Female Convict Life at Woking — II.
This is part two of a three-part article by F.W. Robinson published in September 1889 on life in the Woking Female Convict Prison. The accompany illustrations were by Paul Renouard. (Part One and Part Three are on separate pages.)
To be quite exact in our figures — that is, up to date in the reports — it is highly satisfactory to state that the number of female prisoners within the last ten years has fallen from 1,233 to 488. This, we presume, includes the Fulham Refuge, a small prison for extra-good-conduct women, which has done much good in its day, from which has dated many a rescue, many a better life, but which has now to be closed, by order, there being plenty of room for female convicts elsewhere. As a slight set-off against these welcome statistics, it is necessary to add that the number of fresh sentences in 1888 was 77, in comparison with 62 fresh sentences in 1886 — not a great difference, nor standing even in evidence that the tide has turned the other way now. It is a question of fresh sentences only — the figures in the aggregate speaking eloquently as to the diminution of crime throughout England and Wales.
And it may be as well to assert again that generally speaking the conduct of the female prisoner is infinitely better, on the whole, than it was ten years ago, and that the "breakings-out" are now the exception to the rule. Possibly there are not so many temptations to insubordination, or opportunities, as there were in the early days. For instance, it was customary in old prison times for the female convict to keep her broom in her cell, but this practice has been given up of late years. A woman, it was considered, might do much mischief with the broom if roused to action, and it was too handy a weapon of defence when the male officers were sent for to convey her in her wild fits to the punishment cells, or the old objectionable "dark. " The authorities changed all that, and the broom had to be put outside the door by the prisoner before she was locked up for the night. I believe it was in the days of the Female Convict Prison at Parkhurst that a cat attached to the establishment secured notoriety for itself by regularly going the rounds with the matron whose duty it was to make sure that these brooms were all put outside before, as was then the rule, she closed and locked the prisoner in. The prisoners shut their own doors at Wormwood Scrubbs now, it will be remembered, and pull the indicator bell to denote the fact — a considerable improvement on manners and customs elsewhere. The cat was certainly as well up in the prison regulations as the officer in charge, and would immediately sit down before any cell-door where the broom had not been put out for the night, thus signifying by its sudden full-stop that there was a little mistake that required seeing into and rectifying on the spot.
Refractory convict in padded cell, Woking Female Prison, 1889.
In the punishment-cells our artist has depicted a woman under punishment — a refractory, an incorrigible. The punishment ward consists of a series of cells devoid of some little advantages which the ordinary cell possesses, and at the extremity of the ward is a "solitary," fitted up for any prisoner who should be particularly violent, and disposed to do herself an injury by pitching herself against the walls or floor. The place is lined completely with coir matting, and here in this ugly padded chamber the woman can do pretty well as she likes, and without much hurt or harm to herself. In one instance at Millbank even this precaution was rendered nugatory, a powerful prisoner, one Maria Copes, succeeding in tearing down the whole of the stuffing in the course of the night, and being discovered triumphantly seated in the midst of the ruin she had made the next time the ward officer looked in upon her. This feat has never been attempted successfully at Woking or elsewhere. There is another cell not very frequently used, which stands apart from the wards, and has a little airing-yard of its own in front of it. A door from one of the wards leads into the airing-yard, and beyond is the big "solitary" — very bare, very lonesome, altogether an uncomfortable, spacious cell, with something uncanny in its general aspect. Here is stowed away the female convict who will not keep quiet — whose ravings, or whose ribald songs, or whose profane and violent language would keep a whole ward restless were she in the ordinary cells set apart for punishment. Into this desolate apartment — for it is a stone room rather than a cell — the noisy and violent refractory is bundled, under certain circumstances, and left to her own resources in a place where her screams and oaths can in no wise affect her contemporaries. She has it all to herself; there is no one to hear her save the matron, who at regular intervals looks her up and makes sure that she is all right, and doing about as well as can naturally be expected of a lady with a high pressure of steam on, which she is determined to work off before settling down and expressing, in due course, her contrition for her exceedingly bad behaviour.
A woman named Rhoda Powell has been in her time one of the troublesome class of prisoners at Woking — many stories are rife concerning her. She was a woman very quick to take offence. One day, when she had asked to see the Director, or had been forced by previous behaviour to confront him for some serious breach of the rules, she was suddenly surprised by the Director stopping her in the midst of her long and rambling statement to inquire if she could not continue her remarks without scratching herself so vigorously.
What?" ejaculated Rhoda. "What's that you say?"
"What are you scratching at?" asked the curious Director.
That was enough for the outraged feelings of Rhoda Powell. She went back to her cell to brood upon the insult she had received.
"He a gentleman — oh, yes — very much so. What are you scratching at,' indeed? A pretty thing to ask a lady!" Rhoda was heard to mutter from time to time the day after the interview.
In the night-time Rhoda indulged in a break-out — a grand and general smash of everything that was smashable, accompanying her violence by a series of blood-curdling shrieks.
The matron on duty — a young woman new to the service, and very much surprised and alarmed — ran to her cell at once.
"What is it, Powell?"
"What are you scratching at?" shouted Powell back, "that's just what I want to know. What are you scratching at?"
There is a considerable thought as to dress in this prison, and as befits a lady's establishment. Each class has a different style of costume — which is very necessary even for purposes of identification — and there are five classes in all at Woking Prison. There is the probation class, in which women for the first nine months wear a lilac cotton skirt in summer, with a blouse bodice, a square of serge for the shoulders, a checked blue and white apron, small white linen cap with goffered border, and a plain, untrimmed coarse white straw bonnet of what is termed the "cottage shape," and a very hideous shape, to our masculine mind, it appears to be. On Sundays white aprons and neckerchiefs are worn. In winter the lilac dress is replaced by a thick blue serge, with a neckerchief of the same material, and a thick fawn-coloured circular cape is also allowed for the shoulders.
In the second nine months the prisoner is a woman of the third class, and wears in summer a plain blue cotton skirt with stripes, and a square of brown serge for the shoulders. The bonnet and linen cap remain the same in style, or distinguished, as it may be,for want of style, and white aprons and neckerchiefs again smarten up the prisoners on the Sabbath. In winter the third-class women wear brown serge dresses and fawn-coloured capes. In the third nine months a female convict becomes a woman of the second class, and is allowed the distinction of wearing a full blue cotton skirt with white spots, a blouse-bodice of the same material, and a square of green serge for the shoulders. In winter she wears a thick green serge gown, the other details of dress being the same as in the preceding class. In the fourth period of nine months she becomes a woman of the first class, with little, if any distinction from the second, and this remains till she is within nine months of the expiration of the sentence, when — happy time for the female convict, with liberty so close at hand again! — she is dubbed a woman of the Special Class, and is envied very much by those of her sister unfortunates who have long years before them of this dreadful penal servitude. At this time the Special Class woman is allowed a "Princess" robe of dark grey striped flannel, a cap of cross-bar muslin, with goffered border and broad muslin strings, the details of dress being the same as in the other classes. All these little advantages and signs of progress are dependent, of course, upon the good conduct of the prisoners, who are very proud of distinguishing marks and higher grades of service, and do their best, as a rule, to secure them.
Amongst the different kinds of work that have been essayed at Woking Prison, that of mosaic work has been the most ambitious. The experiment has been given up lately as a failure, but it was interesting work to those who were intelligent enough to follow the instructions of a teacher who had been especially engaged for the purpose. It was found that only a few of the prisoners could acquire a requisite degree of proficiency, and as the sentences expired it was difficult to replace the skilled workwomen, and so labour at times was at a standstill.
But there are admirable specimens of this work to be seen in the prison, and if we recollect aright the elegant floor of the extensive chapel at Wormwood Scrubs, now in rapid course of completion, is the production of the late mosaic workers at Woking. Another difficulty also presented itself to the official mind, and a serious difficulty it became. It was found that a woman who had been taught this trade had no opportunity, or scarcely any opportunity, of earning a livelihood afterwards in the world, mosaic workers being few, and old, regular hands preferred.
Convicts at work in the laundry, Woking Female Prison, 1889.
One variation of prison work was for a while carried out at the shrewd suggestion of the present Governor, that of asphalting the various airing-grounds under a trained instructor. The women took readily to this novelty — it was life in the open, too — and the gravel-walks and loose stones of the various yards had been a little trying to tender feet. The result is a complete success; the visitor finds every open space well asphalted in Woking Prison now.
The twine-making is an animated and interesting scene; the process has not been in use very long, but the result is perfectly satisfactory. The women like the employment — they are to an extent in association, although there is no conversation allowed during working hours if it can be prevented — and they are of the better class of prisoners. The string is well made, and enormous quantities are taken by the Post Office and other Government offices. Indeed, the supply is not equal to the demand. The process is carried on in a large room, plenty of space being required for this particular class of prison labour.
At certain periods the stronger portion of the female convicts are exercised at the fire-engine, which is worked with considerable skill and vigour. It is always a busy and old scene to witness, and M. Renouard has given a very vigorous picture of it in the present pages. A few years ago there was no end to the pumping manoeuvres of the Woking women, the water-supply of the prison being obtained from a deep well beyond the walls, at the bottom of what is still termed "Pump House Hill." The women, under the superintendence of their officers, left the prison in gangs at stated hours, and took it in turns, of a few minutes each, to pump up all the water required by the great prison. This practice has been wholly done away with, the water having been declared by analysts to be a trifle too ferruginous, and the water is now laid on from the Clandon works, at some little distance away, at the moderate scale of tenpence per thousand gallons. The quality of the cocoa and tea has greatly improved since this fresh supply of water, and much that was considered indifferent in the stores has been since traced to the iron in the water Pump-House Hill way.
Fire pump drill, Woking Female Prison, 1889.
A great deal of hot water is used in heating the prison, it may be added, from a circulating boiler, and the temperature is well kept up throughout. There are only open fires, so far as we can recollect, in the infirmary quarters. And yet some of the rooms take a deal of warming, the association-room, for instance, being ninety-eight feet in length, with a breadth of twenty-two feet six. The penal-ward prisoners are equally well cared for as regards warmth, and, indeed, everything that can tend to the health of the convicts, without in any way suggesting "ease and elegance," is a matter for the most careful consideration. One is inclined to wish that as much attention was devoted to our workhouses, which will not always bear favourable comparison with the Government prisons, and this may be said to our grave national discredit. "The poor we have always with us," and we must not show too much consideration for them, is about the sum total of general instructions given to relieving officers and workhouse officials. The public is more curious concerning its prisoners than its paupers — it is to be hoped the County Council will change all this in good time. It is a painful fact that the ordinary female convict considers herself above the woman in the Union. "Look at these shawls," was said once by an indignant prisoner upon a new style of shawl being introduced into the service, "do they take us for those poor workhouse wretches, I should like to know!" Prison may even have its comforts for some of these misguided victims, for they return again and again to its shelter or its shadow, and there are times when a decided reluctance to quit the premises has been evinced — generally by the elder prisoners — the poor prisoners who are past work and have nowhere to go, who do not, in the darkness lying ahead of them, quite see which is the way. A story is told, we are not quite sure that it is of this prison, of an old woman who, some years since, begged very hard to remain in penal servitude; she had served out her time, but she was very comfortable and would rather not change her mode of life, if the superintendent did not object. She had no funds, she had no means of subsistence, she did not know what was to become of her at all, and if she might be allowed to remain over her time, she should be exceedingly obliged to everybody. Her gratuity money — amounting only to fifteen shillings — she respectfully declined to receive, after the offer of a longer stay had been declined, and she stoutly refused to dress herself in ordinary apparel prior to being seen off the premises. She was removed almost by force, and taken away to her own country-quarters, where she was presented, not quite as "a boon and a blessing," to the parochial authorities, who declined, very firmly, to have anything to do with her. She was left, it is said, on the steps of the workhouse, for the parish to make the best of the case that it could, but the old woman shortly took the matter into her own hands by deliberately committing a theft of some oranges from a shop door, and thus summarily settling the question, by the simple expedient of a fresh offence.
Such an instance of love of, prison, or force of habit, has, we are told its parallel case in the old Millbank days, when a male prisoner on the day of his release deliberately tore up two suits of clothes provided for him, and was found sitting stark naked, with a little black bag — made from his neckerchief, and containing his gratuity-money — suspended round his neck. He refused to leave the prison, and was eventually dressed by force and hustled from the gates into the presence of the first policeman outside, who was instructed to keep an eye upon him. Whether this gentleman returned to penal servitude or not, we have had no means of ascertaining.
Prison is not always a deterrent to the old penal servitude hand, or the faces of the past offenders would not crop up so frequently. "We shall see them again, most of them," was a Wormwood Scrubs warder's prophecy to us; but as the old faces die out by degrees, the new ones do not come in the same proportion, and there are signs of better times all round. The female prisoner has always been the hardest to train, or to control, but there is fifty per cent. less of female convicts now, thank Heaven! and the improvement, moral and material, continues. It is a doubtful point whether this extensive female prison at Woking will be always required — whether it will not go the way of the male department across the road, and become one of the prisons of the past. Military authorities, it is rumoured, have their eyes upon the site, and there will be room for all the female convicts at Wormwood Scrubs when the new block is completed there.
Woking will not have had a long existence as a penal-settlement should this change occur, but it has had a memorable time of it notwithstanding, and has held in confinement many famous, or infamous, criminals. The stories of its prison-house are many, but space forbids our further reference to them. The discipline has always been well maintained, and the prison is a model of care and cleanliness throughout. Order is heaven's first law here.
As regards the discipline in this Female Prison, one is reminded of Mary Carpenter's words as to the management of our convicts. Under the vigorous régime of Dr. Clark, and the careful supervision of Miss Hutchinson, the Deputy Superintendent, there appears to be carried out in its entirety here that wise, firm discipline "which is too strong to tempt to infringements of its regulations, and too benevolent in the spirit of its administration to provoke antagonism." This, Mary Carpenter says, "is essential to any improvement, and to the simple establishment of a spirit of obedience," and in the Female Convict Prison at Woking surely the improvements are many since the old Millbank and Brixton times, and that "the spirit of obedience" is manifest in the midst of these prisoners of the latter days one reads by the signs of brighter faces at their work, and by the doors, open wide, of the empty punishment-cells.
The visitors' book contains some celebrated names of philanthropists and philosophers — men and women of words and of deeds, wise heads and crowned heads. One name — a woman's — boldly and clearly written in the book, tells of life's vicissitudes, and of the changes that may come to each of us in turn — "Eugenie," once Empress of the French. We inscribe our name, with that diffidence which is natural to us, in this imposing book, of visitors, and then take our leave of the courteous Governor, who has been our guide, philosopher, and friend through the tortuous mazes of this penal settlement. Worthy Mr. Ledger — warder of long and faithful service here — sees us out of the front gate with a cheery "good afternoon;" the "'bus that passes the shop" rattles up to the prison quarters with the conductor blowing his horn with unseasonable hilarity, we are packed in its cupboard-like interior with some difficulty, and are borne and bumped away to Woking. Railway Station in company with a small family of noisy and laughing children and two master market-gardeners who have been buying rhododendrons at the great nurseries further on, and are eloquent as to the quality of their "stuff." We feel out of prison ourselves at last, and part and parcel of the busy world again.
Links
Except where indicated, this page () © Peter Higginbotham. Contents may not be reproduced without permission.
