PRISON LIFE AND PRISON CHARACTERS.

Otago Witness, Issue 1911, 6 July 1888, Page 30

PRISON LIFE AND PRISON CHARACTERS.

Mr Spencer Blackett has just published " Prison Characters Drawn from Life, with Suggestions for Prison Government," by F. W. Eobinson, from which we extract the following passages : — EFFECTS OF ACTIVE OCCUPATION UPON PRISONERS.

Labour women at all female prisons are the best behaved. Labour that necessitates work of hand, movement of the body, and change from place to place — sheer hard work at the washtub or in the bakehouse, or in any fashion that will keep women from, their brooding fits has a beneficial effect. The refractory female convicts are those employed in sedentary pursuits; coir pickers, bag makers, &c. are generally ill-behaved and quick to take offence. One of the bestbehaved women at Brixton Prison — a badge woman and a labour woman — was one of the class termed dangerou3 when subjected to cellular discipline at Millbank. At Millbank Prison the efforts that the women" made in solitary confinement to procure " something really to do " are worthy of note— anything in the shape of hard work to keep them from brooding on the length of their sentence. It is a great boon at all times and in all prisons to become a labour woman, a messroom woman, a woman to carr) coal, water, pa-iis of coooa, or dinner cans, any occupation in prison life, and however humiliating and unwomanly, that will award to a prisoner the free use of the limbs and the run of the ward. But shut a woman in her cell and give her coir to pick or a mat to make, and if she is not a delicate woman — even if she is at times — the glass will shiver in due course and the woman be heard raving against the officers and herself. The following fact is illustrative of a prisoner's love of "real work": — Some years ago it was remarked that one of the Millbank staff of " cleaners " was always behindhand in the task of scrubbing her allotted portion of the chapel floor ; (hat however energetically she worked— and it was observed that she worked with greater energy than her contemporaries — yet, notwithstanding this, she was the last to depart with her pail from the chapel. The matron, perplexed at this anomaly, watched the woman more intently after a while, and very speedily detected her in the act of tilting the dirty contents of her pail on to that part of the flooring which she had just scrupulously cleaned. "Why, what's that for ?" was the natural inquiry. " Just to spin it out a little longer, miss," answered the woman, with an embarrassed air ; " it's the only bit of real work I get here to do yet. Don't be cross, please," she added, with a wistful look upwards ; " I won't be long about it now."

" LADY " PRISONERS,

"Lady" prison ;rs are, on the whole, a nervous, morbid, mentally diseased class, and afford a strange contrast to the bulk of female convicts. In prison there is no favouritism, and they must do their share of work — of menial labour — with the stronger, coarser women around them. A lady prisoner is exposed also to the vigilant watch of her fellow-convicts, who mistrust the authorities at first, and think that " this one " is to be let off easily, and allowed to have her own way a little; but, strange to assert, when this impression has died off there is among many of the prisoners a large amount of sympathy for the women reduced to their level. They are quick at judging character, these female convicts, I have said ; and, despite the absence of all information afforded them, the lady is detected at once through the disguise of her prison dress. The lady conforms to the rules, and does not attempß to speak to the prisoners ; the first tones of her voice in addressing the matron in charge confirm the suspicions which her face has alreadj suggested. For the first day following the advent of a lady prisoner there is a whispering among the women as to the probable nature of the offence — shrewd guessing at the truth in the first instance, and a rapid acquirement, almost by a miracle, in the second, of the whole facts of the case. Women who have followed her in a few days, or have accompanied her, arrive well posted in the criminal news, and " the case " has partly made a stir in prison before their coming thither. These women are cross-examined siib rosa by the -nost inquisitive as to " what was up in' London " before they were " lagged," and as a rule the story is arrived at. If thoroughly baffled, the guesses at the case are not often wide of the truth, as before remarked.

" INK-BOTTLE SMITII."

Ann Smith, better known as " Ink-bottle Smith," was a life-woman — a woman of about 40 years of age at the time of her incarceration at Brixton. She had received her sentence of perpetual banishment from human life for arson — the firing of the ricks of her employer in a fit of malice against a fancied injurj\ Not a desperate or a repul-sive-looking woman was Ann Smith ; on the contrary, a little, sharp mortal, wit.h a thin, cunning face, and a form that was attenuated in its spareness. Quite a literary character was this woman so far as composition was concerned ; never more content with herself than when she was concocting surreptitious epistles. This hobby, of course, necessitated a consumption of ink, which was abstracted very ingeniously during school hours, or from the matron's rooms, when ink was handy there, and she was on special service. A wild craving for ink was one of Ann Smith's foibles ; she risked her badges for a store of that fluid, and earned in consequence the name of "Ink-bottle Smith," and " Pen-and-ink Smith." She invariably took her thimble to school for the purpose of bringing it back — concealed in her hairgenerally — full to the brim with the coveted fluid. A humorous incident may be related of this strange penchant of Smith. The woman was returning from school with tho rest of the prisoners, looking very grave and thoughtful, but walking with more than her usual haste. She would have dashed into the cell and closed the door behind her had not the suspicious matron on duty followed her loj rapidly. "What's the matter, Smith— are yon not well ?*' was the inquiry. Smith put her hand to her head as though schooling had been too much tor her. "A headache?"' Smith nodded. • "Ah, it's not worth while putting your name down to see

the doctor for, that, is it ? " . Smith shook her head, and gave vent to a murmuring noise that was supposed to be expressive of dissent. '" Then why don't you say so, Smith 1 You're not too ill to speak ? " Smith groaned, and looked dismally at her matron, who was scarcely able to preserve the dignity of office., upon detecting a small black rimlet oozing from one corner of the prisoner's lips and meandering down her chin." Smith, dleprived of her thimble had brought the ink away in her mouth 1 A SAMPLE OF "THE CRIMINAL CLASSES."

Margaret Crofts is introduced as a fair sample of a large body of female prisoners — a representative of the " criminal classes," concerning which so many elaborate treaties have been written, Margaret was a woman who had been many times in prison, and to whom prison was as much home . as the dens ' from which she was constantly taken. She received sentence after sentence, accumulating inforce, despite her change of name and sturdy denial of her antecedents, until five years' penal servitude became the order of the day. She was about eight-and- twenty years of age when she appeared first at Milbank Prison; a gaunt, stolid-looking- woman, with high cheek-bone?, a massive jaw, and that peculiar dent across tho bridge of the nose which I have said is almost the stamp indicative of the female convict in general — a dent that has driven in the 1 eyes, as well as destroyed the bridge, and so gives the brows undue prominence. Not one word of instruction had the woman received in the whole course of her career beyond the prison, and not one word of instruction was it possible to convey to her within. Learn her letters, she could not; to comprehend the necessity of learning was equally difficult. Margaret Crofts had no comprehension for anything but evil ; it was as though her sense of good had been stifled in her birth, leaving more room for the evil passions to develop. The chaplain might talk to her, the Scripture-reader might pay her constant visits, not a muscle of the face betrayed any animation, not a glimmering of comprehension gave a different aspect to her features. She was only aware that she had been unlucky enough to be locked up for five years. Her mother was a thief, and her grandmother had taught her mother how to get her own living, just as she had been taught herself. Crofts, with plenty to eat, was satisfied with her position and took her " durance vile " with consummate philosophy. They had not acted quite right in giving her five years, and it was evident that the judge had had a spite against her ; but tho five years once before her, it was part of her plan to make the best of them.

PRISON PRIDE.

As there exists in good society a pride that stands very far removed from vanity, so in the midst of the bad society to which the reader has been introduced, lingers a pride which, in its strange phases of development, is worth alluding to. The arts of colouring the cheeks from shreds of cloth ; of compounding pomatum from candle grease and dinner fat ; altering the dress to fashionable lengths ; of arranging the hair after a new style ; and of extemporising a looking-glass, &c, have been already detailed; but there are other phases of prison pride — one, not the least startling— a pride in the length of the sentence. A long-timed woman, or a "lifer," asserts some airs of superiority over the rest very often, and that superiority is allowed by tho prisoners, who evince quite a respect for the unfortunate, providing too much boasting does not ensue in consequence. It is worthy of remark that rnurdresses invariably look down upon common thieves, and treat them with considerable haiiteur. A grim, heart-chilling pride this ; but none the less pride, demonstrating itself at all times, and asserting its predominance. A comparison having been made on one occasion between the conduct of a thief and that of a woman serving her time for a gross case of childraurder, the latter started up indignantly. "Do you compare that wretch to me — that low thief," she cried, with hands clenched and eyes flashing at the speaker. Another form of pride was shown very characterist-i-cally upen one occasion, when a new kiud of shawl was distributed amongst the women for winter wear — a rough thick shawl, warm and comfortable enough, but certainly possessing but little claim to elegance of style. The women received their shawls, critically inspected them, held them to the light, held them at a distance, shook their heads over the material. " Hanged if they ain't workus shawls !" exclaimed one woman at last. " Just the things the poor workus critters walk about in." Every prisoner is above the workhouse of course ; almost every prisoner would prefer the jail to that mismanaged institution. The workhourse is the lowest depth to the criminal mind.