At last Brown falls into a doze but is speedily awakened by a patrolling officer who awakens the prisoners at 12:30 and 4:30 A. M. but refuses his request to renew the water spilled by the sick prisoner because it is “’gainst the rules.”
At 6 A. M. on Sunday, Tom Brown is released from his punishment, convinced that the “System” is illogical, antiquated, barbarous, cruel and destructive to the character of prisoners and officers alike. He is exhausted, body and soul; but he finds strength to make a chapel address to the prisoners, which must have been memorable. The prisoners are tremendously impressed by the fact that this man of education, culture and wealth has voluntarily endured for six days the same treatment as themselves, in the endeavor to understand their situation and, if possible, to improve it; they recognize that the cell, the march, the shock and the dungeon affect the man of culture and refinement more keenly than the ordinary prisoner; but the thing which affects them most profoundly is the vicarious character of his act. They would almost apply to it the words of the prophet Isaiah: “Surely he hath borne our griefs and carried our sorrows.”
Mr. Osborne is not content to discover and reveal the vices of the prison system but he seeks a practical remedy. To this end he has taken counsel, not only with the prison authorities and students of penological science, but also with the prisoners who live under the system and, some of whom, are keenly alive to its destructive influence. A prisoner in the shops gave him the basic idea. He says:
“For some years I have felt that the principles of self-government might possibly be the key to the solution of the prison problem; but as yet I have not been able to see clearly how to begin its application. There have seemed to be almost insuperable difficulties. In this connection Jack” (Jack Murphy, a prisoner) “made a suggestion which supplies a most important link in the chain.
“In discussing the various aspects of prison life we reached the subject of the long and dreary Sundays. Jack agrees with all those with whom I have talked that the long stretch in the cells, from the conclusion of the chapel service, between ten-thirty and eleven o’clock Sunday morning until seven Monday morning—over twenty hours, is a fearful strain both physical and mental upon the prisoners.
“‘Well, Jack,’ I say, ‘from what I have heard Superintendent Riley say, I feel sure he would like to give the men some sort of exercise or recreation on Sunday afternoons; but how could it be managed! You can’t ask the officers to give up their day off, and you don’t think the men could be trusted by themselves, do you!’
“‘Why not?’ says Jack.
“I look at him enquiringly.
“‘Why, look here, Tom. I know this place through and through. I know these men; I’ve studied ’em for years. And I tell you that the big majority of these fellows in here will be square with you if you give ’em a chance. The trouble is they don’t treat us on the level. I could tell you all sorts of frame-ups they give us. Now if you trust a man, he will try and do what’s right; sure he will. That is, most men will. Of course, there are a few that won’t. There are some dirty curs—degenerates—that will make trouble, but there ain’t so very many of those. Look at that road work! Haven’t the men done fine! How many prisoners have you out on the roads! About 130; and you ain’t had a single runaway yet. And if there should be any runaways you can just bet we’d show ’em what we think about it.’
“‘Do you really think, Jack, that the Superintendent and the Warden could trust you fellows out in the yard on Sunday afternoons in summer!’