Within Prison Walls / being a narrative during a week of voluntary confinement in the state prison at Auburn, New York

by Thomas Mott Osborne

In other words, the vital point of this matter, as in all others connected with the Prison Problem, is this: After all has been said and done, what manner of men are these prisoners? Are they specimens of “the criminal” we have had pictured to us in so many works on “Penology”? Or are they simply men from the same stock as the rest of us—some of them degenerate, some mentally ill balanced, some slaves to evil habits, diseased, sinful, or simply unfortunate—whatever you like—but still men? I think these letters may help others to an answer as they have helped me.

A few days after the memorable Sunday on which I left prison, Warden Rattigan found a paper placed upon his desk. It came from the slight, pale man with whom I had talked in July, the man who struck me as being such a cynic—so discouraged and discouraging, the one with whom I had not shaken hands upon leaving, because—Heaven forgive me—I thought he had no interest or confidence in me or my experiment.

It seems, according to the Warden, that this man (his name is Richards) had at first been very sceptical concerning my visit; but he had, as will appear, watched me very carefully; and, after having changed his own point of view, was much irritated by certain sarcastic editorials in the newspapers. So he applied to the Warden for permission to write a letter on the subject to one of the great New York dailies.

When the Warden showed the letter to me I advised against its publication—as I cared for no personal vindication. But I treasured the letter, and Richards and I have since become the warmest of friends. Here is what he wrote to the Warden:

I think that in justice to the prisoners in this institution that objection should be taken to some of the editorials which are being printed about Mr. Osborne’s experience as a voluntary prisoner in Auburn prison. I for one desire to protest and take exception against some of the editorials which appear in the papers—especially in the New York A—— and S——.

I have only used my privilege of letter writing on one occasion during my nearly two years’ incarceration here, and I wish that I could be allowed to write to one of these papers a letter setting forth my exceptions in the following strain, and I want to assure you that I mean every word of what I have written.

The following is his draft of the proposed letter to the New York paper.

I am one of those whom society calls a confirmed criminal. I have had the misfortune to be unable to resist temptation on several occasions, with the result that I carry upon my left sleeve the red disc of shame. But I want to say to you, and to the rest of the world, that although society looks upon me as a creature unworthy of sympathy, as one whose life has been a waste, as one not fit to associate with the people at large, yet I still have left within me a little spark of gratitude.

I have watched with careful eye and keen interest this self-imposed imprisonment. My cell was very close to Tom Brown’s, and at night I could look straight from my cell into the window opposite and see there reflected the cell of Tom Brown, No. 15 on the second tier, and its occupant. I know that everything he went through was real. I know that there was no fake about his imprisonment. And I know this, that he went through a great deal more hardship and mental torture as a voluntary prisoner than he would had he been regularly committed to the prison. With his education and knowledge he would have been put to work in a clerical capacity, instead of making baskets, and his labor would not have been so hard. His incarceration in the cooler was real. I know this for a positive fact. I heard him coming from the cooler early Sunday morning in his stocking feet, so as not to wake up his fellow prisoners.

The editorial in the A— is unjust. It speaks of Jack London and others writing about prison conditions. It says that the convicts in the penitentiary “cannot get out,” and that “they are locked in at night.” Granted that all this is what you want to ridicule it to be, the man that wrote this editorial would be accused of being inhuman if he were to put his dog through what Mr. Osborne went through during his week of imprisonment.