ABSTRACT
IN its original conception Pentonville was a silent world, almost with submarine qualities in that there was activity without sound; changes in the external world, like light and darkness, were scarcely perceptible to those imprisoned in its depths. But it was probably true then as it is now that just as each man lies in his own personal prison, so too each man maintains an internalized picture of the world outside. For whatever parallels may have been drawn between the prisoner and the monk, the fact that the prisoner has not voluntarily accepted his incarceration means that neither 'other-worldliness' nor any other effective substitute exists to replace his essentially 'secular' involvement with the world outside. 1
