VISIT TO WOMAN'S PRISON--INTERVIEW THERE WITH MRS. MAYBRICK--SCENE
IN A LIFER'S CELL; THE HUSBAND WHO NEVER KNEW THOUGHT WIFE MADE
MONEY SEWING--MARGOT'S PLEA THAT FAILED
My husband was Home Secretary when we married, and took a serious
interest in our prison system, which he found far from
satisfactory. He thought that it would be a good thing, before we
were known by sight, to pay a surprise visit to the convict--
prisons and that, if I could see the women convicts and he could
see the men privately, he would be able to examine the conditions
under which they served their sentences better than if we were to
go officially.
I was expecting my baby in about three months when we made this
expedition.
Wormwood Scrubs was the promising, almost Dickens-like name of one
of our convict-prisons and, at that time, took in both men and
women.
The governor scrutinised Henry's fine writing on our permits; he
received us dryly, but without suspicion; and we divided off,
having settled to meet at the front door after an hour and a
half's inspection.
The matron who accompanied me was a powerful, intelligent-looking
woman of hard countenance and short speech. I put a few stupid
questions to her about the prison: how many convicts they had, if
the food was good, etc.
She asked me if I would care to see Mrs. Maybrick, an American
criminal, who had been charged with murder, but sentenced for
manslaughter. This woman had poisoned her husband with mild
insistence by arsenic, but, as he was taking this for his health
at the time of his death, the evidence was conflicting as to where
he stopped and she began. She had the reputation of being a lady
and beautiful; and petitions for her reprieve were sent to us
signed by every kind of person from the United States. I told the
matron I would see her and was shown into her cell, where I found
her sitting on a stool against a bleak desk, at which she was
reading. I noted her fine eyes and common mouth and, apologising,
said:
"I hope you will not mind a stranger coming to enquire how you are
getting on," adding, "Have you any complaints to make of the
prison?"
The matron had left me and, the doors being thick, I felt pretty
sure she could not hear what we were saying.
MRS. MAYBRICK (SHRUGGING HER SHOULDERS): "The butter here is
abominable and we are only given two books--THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
and the Bible--and what do you say to our looking-glasses?"
(POINTING TO A LITTLE GLASS, FOUR INCHES BIG, IN A DEEP THICK
FRAME HANGING ON A PEG). "Do you know why it is so small?"
MARGOT: "No."
MRS. MAYBRICK: "Because the women who want to kill themselves
can't get their heels in to break the glass; if they could they
would cut their throats. The men don't have looking-glasses at
all."
MARGOT: "Do you think they would like to have them?"
MRS. MAYBRICK (SHRUGGING HER SHOULDERS AGAIN AND FINGERING HER
BLUE COTTON BLOUSE): "I don't suppose they care! I'm sure no one
could wish to see themselves with cropped hair and in these
hideous clothes."
MARGOT: "I think that I could get you every kind of book, if you
like reading, and will tell me what you want."
MRS. MAYBRICK (with a sudden laugh and looking at me with a
contemptuous expression which made my heart ache): "Oh, no, you
couldn't! Never mind me! But you might tell them about the
butter."
I did not find Mrs. Maybrick sympathique and shortly after this
rejoined the matron. It was the first time I had seen a prison and
my heart and mind were moved as we went from cell to cell nodding
to the grey occupants.
"Have you any very bad cases?" I asked. "I mean any woman who is
difficult and unhappy?"
MATRON: "Yes, there is one woman here who has been sitting on the
floor for the last three days and, except a little water, I don't
think she has swallowed a mouthful of food since she came in. She
is a violent person and uses foul language. I do not think you had
better see her."
MARGOT: "Thank you, I am not at all afraid. Please take me to her
cell."
MATRON (still reluctant and eyeing my figure): "She may not speak
to you, but if she does it might give you a shock. Do you think
you are wise to go in your present condition?"
MARGOT: "Oh, that's all right, thanks! I am not easily shocked."
When we came to the cell, I took the precaution of telling the
matron she could leave me, as after this visit I should have to
join my husband and I could find my way to the front hall by
myself. She opened the door in silence and let me in.
Crouching on the stone floor, in an animal attitude, I saw a
woman. She did not look up when I went in nor turn when I shut the
door. Her eyebrows almost joined above a square-tipped nose; and
her eyes, shaded by long black lashes, were fixed upon the ground.
Her hair grew well, out of a beautiful forehead, and the red curve
of her mouth gave expression to a wax-like face. I had never seen
a more striking-looking creature.
After my usual apology and a gentle recitative of why I had come,
she turned what little I could see of her face away from me and
whatever I suggested after that was greeted with impenetrable
silence.
At last I said to her:
"It is so difficult for me to stand and talk while you are sitting
on the ground. Won't you get up?"
No answer. At this--being an active woman--I sat down beside her
on the stone floor and took her hand in both of mine. She did not
withdraw it, but lifted her lashes to look at me. I noted the
sullen, exhausted expression in her grey eyes; my heart beat at
the beauty of her face.
"Why don't you speak to me?" I said. "I might, for all you know,
be able to do a great deal for you."
This was greeted by a faint gleam and a prolonged shake of the
head.
MARGOT: "You look very young. What is it you did, that brought you
into this prison,"
My question seemed to surprise her and after a moment's silence
she said:
"Don't you know why I am sentenced?"
MARGOT: "No; and you need not tell me if you don't want to. How
long are you here for?"
THE WOMAN (in a penetrating voice): "Life!"
MARGOT: "That's impossible; no one is punished for life unless
they commit murder; and even then the sentence is always
shortened."
THE WOMAN: "Shortened in time for what? For your death and burial?
Perhaps you don't know how kind they are to us here! No one is
allowed to die in prison! But by the time your health is gone,
your hair white and your friends are dead, your family do not need
you and all that can be done for you is done by charity. You die
and your eyes are closed by your landlady."
MARGOT: "Tell me what you did."
THE WOMAN: "Only what all you fashionable women do every day ..."
MARGOT: "What?"
THE WOMAN: "I helped those who were in trouble to get rid of their
babies."
MARGOT: "Did you take money for it?"
THE WOMAN: "Sometimes I did it for nothing."
MARGOT: "What sort of women did you help?"
THE WOMAN: "Oh, quite poor women!"
MARGOT: "When you charged them, how much money did you ask for?"
THE WOMAN: "Four or five pounds and often less."
MARGOT: "Was your husband a respectable man and did he know
anything about it?"
THE WOMAN: "My husband was highly respected. He was a stone-mason,
and well to do, and knew nothing at all till I was arrested. ...
He thought I made money sewing."
MARGOT: "Poor man, how tragic!"
After this rather stupid ejaculation of mine, she relapsed into a
frozen silence and I got up off the ground and asked her if she
liked books. No answer. If the food was good? No answer. If her
bed was clean and comfortable? But all my questions were in vain.
At last she broke the silence by saying:
"You said just now that you might be able to help me. There is
only one thing in the world that I want, and you could not help to
get it . ... No one can help me ..."
MARGOT: "Tell me what you want. How can I or any one else help you
while you sit on the ground, neither speaking nor eating? Get up
and I will listen to you; otherwise I shall go away."
After this she got up stiffly and lifted her arms in a stretch
above her head, showing the outline of her fine bust. I said to
her:
"I would like to help you."
THE WOMAN: "I want to see one person and only one. I think of
nothing else and wonder night and day how it could be managed."
MARGOT: "Tell me who it is, this one person, that you think of and
want so much to see."
THE WOMAN: "I want to see Mrs. Asquith."
MARGOT (dumb with surprise): "Why?"
THE WOMAN: "Because she is only just married and will never again
have as much influence over her husband as she has now; and I am
told she is kind ..."
MARGOT (moving towards her): "I am Mrs. Asquith."
At this the woman gave a sort of howl and, shivering, with her
teeth set, flung herself at my feet and clasped my ankles with an
iron clutch. I should have fallen, but, loosening her hold with
great rapidity, she stood up and, facing me, held me by my
shoulders. The door opened and the matron appeared, at which the
woman sprang at her with a tornado of oaths, using strange words
that I had never heard before. I tried to silence her, but in
vain, so I told the matron that she might go and find out if my
husband was ready for me. She did not move and seemed put out by
my request.
"I really think," she said, "that you are extremely foolish
risking anything with this woman.'
THE WOMAN (in a penetrating voice): "You clear out and go to hell
with you! This person is a Christian, and you are not! You are a--
----!"
I put my hand over her mouth and said I would leave her for ever
if she did not stop swearing. She sat down. I turned to the matron
and said:
"You need not fear for me, thank you; we prefer being left alone."
When the matron had shut the door, the woman sprang up and,
hanging it with her back, remained with arms akimbo and her legs
apart, looking at me in defiance. I thought to myself, as I
watched her resolute face and strong, young figure, that, if she
wanted to prevent me getting out of that room alive, she could
easily do so.
THE WOMAN: "You heard what I said, that you would never have as
much influence with your husband as you have now, so just listen.
He's all-powerful and, if he looks into my case, he will see that
I am innocent and ought to be let out. The last Home Secretary was
not married and never took any interest in us poor women."
Hearing the matron tapping at the door and feeling rather anxious
to get out, I said:
"I give you my word of honour that I will make my husband read up
all your case. The matron will give me your name and details, but
I must go now."
THE WOMAN (with a sinister look): "Oh, no, you don't! You stay
here till I give you the details: what does a woman like that care
for a woman like me?" (throwing her thumb over her shoulder
towards the matron behind the door). "What does she know about
life?"
MARGOT: "You must let me open the door and get a pencil and
paper."
THE WOMAN: "The old lady will do it for you while I give you the
details of my case. You have only got to give her your orders.
Does she know who you are?"
MARGOT: "No; and you must not tell her, please. If you will trust
me with your secret, I will trust you with mine; but you must let
me out first if I am to help you."
With a lofty wave of my hand, but without taking one step forward,
I made her move away from the door, which I opened with a feeling
of relief. The matron was in the passage and, while she was
fetching a pencil, the woman, standing in the doorway of her cell,
told me in lowered tones how cruelly unlucky she had been in life;
what worthless, careless girls had passed through her hands; and
how they had died from no fault of hers, but through their own
ignorance. She ended by saying:
"There is no gratitude in this world ..."
When the matron came back, she was much shocked at seeing me kiss
the convict.
I said, "Good-bye," and never saw her again.
My husband looked carefully into her case, but found that she was
a professional abortionist of the most hopeless type.