CHAPTER VII
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.