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, magistrates, authors, philanthropists and others 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 most varied and sometimes startling opinions. 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 gentleman 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 prison 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 inmates lived like pampered gourmets, and that he no longer marveled there were so many criminals when they were fed on such luxuries.
The “Homelike” Cell
On another occasion a benevolent-looking 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 sympathy. A visitor, who I have no doubt intended to be sympathetic, noticing the letter “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.