PRISON-VISITING
BY ONE WHO DOES IT.
FOR men who are prepared to give up a certain amount of time to social service among a specially unfor- tunate class there exists an outlet that is both interesting and uncrowded. It is to act as " unofficial visitor " to one of the metropolitan prisons.
The.demand for " unofficial visitors " (so called because they exercise no administrative functions) exceeds the supply, and volunteers are greatly in request. Such ,'ppointments, however, are not to be had merely for the asking. Before an applicant is put on the list, the Prison Commissioners at the Home Office have to be satisfied that he is a fit and suitable person. Inquiries and pre- cautions are necessary, since a great deal of trust is imposed in him. Thus, he enters and leaves the prison to which he is accredited at will, and can talk to any inmate he pleases, and goes his rounds unaccompanied by a warder. The reason for this last .privilege is obvious. First of all, the warders cannot spare the time to follow him from one part of the building to another ; and, secondly, no degree of confidence could be set up ' between a prisoner and a " visitor " if the interview were carried out under the eye of authority.
An important qualification on the part of an " un- official visitor " is cheerfulness. A prison, at the best, is a depressing place ; hence, a woebegone or melancholy demeanour does more harm than good ; and- visits from such individuals become " visitations."
" We don't much care about having Mr. — to see us," said a burglar to me the other day. " He always looks so blooming miserable." Tact is requisite. There is no occasion to ask a man what he is " in " for, or when he is going • " out." Full particulars are recorded on a card outside each occupant's cell door, and the " visitor " who knows his business will prime himself with them beforehand. Of course, if a prisoner wants to discuss Chace matters, he will do so. As a general rule, however, a man much prefers to talk of his wife and children, of his prospects of employment, or of the work he is doing at the moment. Since nearly all the youngish men per- formed some military service during the War, this' is a ready and safe subject for discussion. In a certain large prison which I visit every week I have come across several whom r last saw in France. Some of them held commissions.
Another subject that is always a suitable one for a elsat is the library book that a man is reading. Under the regulations there is an allowance of three a week. One of these is officially classified as " educational," but the other two may be novels or bound volumes of a magazine. Reading. is a great solace, and does much to prevent a man brooding during the long and lonely hours he passes behind the locked door of his cell.
The work of prison-visiting must be systematic and properly divided up. When this precaution is not observed- there is apt to be a certain amount of over- lapping. The result is, some people get more attention than they want, and others do not get enough. As a matter of fact, the average prison population rather re- sembles that of the outer world. Thus, it has its " stars " whom everybody wants to see, and it also has its unin- teresting figures whom everybody wants to avoid. In the former category are ex-bank managers, fraudulent financiers, and people who occupied considerable posi- tions before their downfall ; at the other end of- the scale are mere burglars and pickpockets. To' guard against the possibility of some prisoners being neglected, the usual plan is for the governor or chaplain to allot a separate wing to each " unofficial visitor " on the list. Even then, however, some men may be omitted owing to their number. Thus, at the prison to which I happen to be accredited, there are only twenty " visitors " for an average of a thousand 'occupants of the cells.
An " unofficial visitor " has no very definite functions. He makes his own work, and is given a free hand. Of course, he must not interfere with matters of discipline or routine, or infringe on the duties of the governor or doctor or chaplain, or transgress the regulations in any way. He is really a sort of connecting-link between the inside world of bolts and bars and the outside world of liberty. Where, perhaps, he can be of most service is in helping a man to get employment on release. Once a week the committee of the local branch of the Discharged Prisoners' Aid Society holds a meeting in the prison, and all who are due for early release have their cases examined. The " visitors " submit their reports, and the men themselves are marched in and interviewed. Of course, some cases are practically hopeless. Still, an encouraging propor- tion of the applicants for help make good, if given a chance. Others have a job to which they can return, and merely require a railway ticket, or tools and clothes. Sometimes, also, it is possible to send a man to Australia or Canada, with the prospect of his developing into a useful citizen there.
The right sort of " unofficial visitor " exercises a con siderable power for good. He can do much towards lifting a man out of a slough of despondency, and showing him that the accident of being in prison is not necessarily a fatal one. His sympathy and counsel are valued, and often work wonders in cases where discipline and routine have very small effect. The knowledge that he has no voice in the administration of the establishment disarms the covert suspicion that prisoners more or less instinctively feel towards officials. This covert sus- picion, by the way, is quite unfounded. Of late years things have altered, and very much for the better. There is no barking or blustering among the warders ; and governors and doctors and chaplains all have a cheery word for their charges. The usual practice,- too, is to address a man by his name, and not by a number. A small thing, perhaps. Still; it helps to build up self- respect.
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