letters of a lunatic, or a brief exposition of my university life, during the years 1853-54. by g. j. adler, a. m., professor of german literature in the university of the city of new-york, member of the american oriental, and of the american ethnological societies, &c., &c. spectatum admissi risum teneatis, amici? horat. ars poet. v. 5. [greek: mê ny toi ou chraismê skêptron kai stemma theoio]! iliad i. v. 28. printed for the author. 1854. prefatory note to the public. in a recent publication on german literature, i hinted to the reader my design of giving an account of an event in my personal history, which i alleged to be the cause of an absentment from my proper place of study, and consequently of an injustice to my public. i now proceed to fulfil my promise, by offering to my personal friends, and to such as are interested in matters of academic education and morality, a few of the many letters written by me during the past year. i might have added others, both of an anterior and of a more recent date. the question however was not to write a volume, but simply a brief exposition, of a page or two from my life in connection with a public institution of the metropolis, and thus to bring a matter of private and iniquitous dispute before the forum of the public, after having vainly sought redress in private. my main object was of course to vindicate and defend my character, my professional honor and my most sacred rights as a rational man and as a public educator, against the invasions of narrow-minded and unjust aggressors, whose machinations have for several years been busily at work in subverting what other men have reared before them, in retarding and impeding what the intelligence of our age and country is eager to accelerate and to promote. the much agitated question of university reform and of the liberty of academic instruction, which of late years has engaged the attention of some of the best intellects on both sides of the atlantic, and which within a month past has again occupied the public mind, and even called forth legislative intervention may, however, perhaps likewise receive some additional light from the following pages, which i now submit, not from any motive of vanity, or from the expectation of self-aggrandisement or of histrionic applause; but from a sense of duty to the cause of liberal culture and of sound morality, to which i have devoted many a year of laborious effort and of earnest thought. new-york university, } g. j. a. _june_, 1854. } letter i. new-york university, sept. 10th, 1853. rev. isaac ferris, d. d. dear sir,--i deem it a duty of justice towards myself, as well as to the honor of the institution of which i am an officer and yourself the newly-elected head, to bring to your consideration a few circumstances from the history of our incidental intercourse during the past winter, which at the time of occurrence, struck me with painful surprise, and which i cannot suffer to pass without my most earnest protestations. 1st, during the earlier part of the winter, in passing out of my lecture-room one morning, i met you in the hall of the university with a pale face, asking me in the most uncalled-for and singular manner the strange question:--"_are you my superior?_"--the reply, which i ought to have written on the spot to such an enquiry, i would now make by saying, that such an idea never occurred to me, and that, as i had never seen any thing of your presence in the actual performance of duty in the university at the time of my instruction to the students, such an idea _never could have suggested itself_ to me. the question of superiority or inferiority being, moreover, of a relative nature and one that (in our profession) can only be settled by actual services rendered to the cause of letters and by actual acknowledgements obtained in a proper manner and from competent judges, it would be folly for me or for any one else to attempt to place it on any other ground; and for that reason i never touch it, although i am always ready to acknowledge both moral and intellectual superiority, wherever i become aware of its existence. 2d, on a second occasion, i met you by accident in the hall before my door, when to my equal surprise, you informed me by indefinite murmurs and in the same painful half-way-utterance, "_that i had the chapel_," and "_that i was in the next church_," pointing to dr. hutton's. this cannot possibly be the case, as i am not of your persuasion in matters of religion, and if i am to communicate any instruction in the institution, it must be done in the usual way. 3d, during the horrid disorders within the institution the past winter, i repeatedly heard vociferous declamations in the adjoining room, and at one time the famous words of patrick henry were declaimed by mr. bennet (i think) of the last class: "_give me liberty, or give me death!_" fearfully emphasized, and _your own voice echoed_: "_death you shall have!_" as at that particular time i underwent the crucifixion of college-disorder, at the same time receiving occasional intimations that either in my speculations or in my instruction _i was going too far_, and that on that account it was necessary for me to leave, i cannot possibly be mistaken in supposing, _that both that horrible word of yours_, as well as the frequent scandalous vociferations were intended as an insult for me; (and, _if that is so_, i would most respectfully beg leave to reciprocate the compliment). 4th, at the dinner of the alumni my attention along with that of all the rest of the assembled guests was directed towards you, at the time you rose to speak. while yet standing, you turned towards me with a peculiar expression of countenance (which i beg you to allow me to reciprocate) and in an under-tone (distinctly audible to me) asked the guests of the opposite side of the room (between whom and yourself there appears to have been a collusion): _shall i have to become the step-father of that man?_ and again in the same tone and with the same expression of countenance: "_next year i shall see another man in that man's place!_" the subsequent exchange of salutations _over prof._ martin was ironical on your part, and independently of the rudeness of the act, wholly out of place. no one else present was treated in the same way.--in regard to the last expression, with which you honored me on that occasion, i would say, that by the repetition of the scenes of immorality and disorder of which this building was the theatre (in the most odious sense of that term) during the past year, such an event might be possible, not however without some troublesome resistance on my part and _the prospect of another change_.--in regard to the first question, i will myself take the responsibility of a reply, by frankly informing you, that, although i do not feel the slightest inclination to question the responsible honor of your office, and with due deference to the reputation for moral integrity (of your _scholarship_ i have never seen any proof), which must have secured the same to you, i nevertheless most emphatically decline such paternal supervision--having for many years past been myself of full age, and even won a place _as a man_ among the men and scholars of our land. and this i purpose to maintain, whether i am in the university, or out of it. i must, therefore, beg you _to take back the offensive words at the next dinner as publicly as they were uttered_, or else i shall be obliged to take measures in defence of my honor, which, painful and disagreeable as they would be to me, would nevertheless be a necessary duty of self-protection. as for my peculiar views and position with reference to questions of scholarship and education, i have undergone no change of opinion whatever, nor could i undergo one, unless it were the necessary consequence of a rational conviction; and i shall have my hands full for some years to come, to write out and publish what i have but imperfectly and in a desultory manner indicated in my lectures and conversations; and while i am convinced that in many respects i have (as is usual) been voluntarily and involuntarily misunderstood, i am sure, that in the main i am right, and entitled to a hearing or a reading, whether, as has been intimated to me, i go too far or not.--in regard to the many scandalous interruptions by spectral noises (by day and by night), of which i well remember the chief authors, and in regard to my other persecutions, i am aware, that they can only be the subject of commiseration and of merited contempt, and that under the given circumstances, it would be difficult to obtain redress or justice. i shall, however, procure some legal advice on the subject. allow me, in conclusion, sir, to assure you of the absence of all hostile personal feeling on my part. i have said what my duty imperatively demands, and my silence would have made me a villain, justly liable to perpetual abuse. i am, dear sir, with the most distinguished consideration, yours, &c. g. j. adler. letter ii. new-york university, sept. 12th, 1853. to his honor, the mayor } of the city of new-york.} dear sir,--i deem it my duty as a citizen of new-york, and a member of a literary institution, of which your honor is _ex-officio_ an officer, to apprize you of a fact of my personal history during the past winter, which as it is intimately connected with the maintenance of social order, should not for one moment be passed over by the authorities of the municipal corporation. i have for a number of years past been connected with the university of the city of new-york, first as a resident graduate and lately as the professor of a modern language, and have ever since my connection with the institution resided in the building on washington square, spending most of my time in authorship and instruction in a room, which for several years i have occupied for that purpose. in consequence of some bad feeling towards me on the part of certain enemies of mine, who of late have done all in their power to annoy me, the quiet of my residence has been disturbed in a scandalous manner, by day and at all hours of the night, for weeks and months together, so as to inflict on me the torments of perpetual interruption not only in my work during the day, but of rest during the night, until my health was completely shattered; and in this miserable manner i have lost nearly the whole of last winter without accomplishing any of my purposes with satisfaction or comfort. this outrageous annoyance has been the source of severe loss to me not only in regard to my health, but also in a pecuniary point of view. my salary in the institution being altogether inadequate for my support, i have been engaged for a number of years past in preparing works for publication, and this winter the ruin of my health from the causes already mentioned has also threatened me with the ruin of my income. as this villainous business has proceeded in part from the institution itself, or rather from individuals personally hostile to me and to my purposes, i deem an address to your honor so much the more in place, as i believe it to be officially your duty to interpose your municipal authority in matters of this kind, and to reprimand or punish men for the immorality of so flagrant a disturbance of the peace. as my ears have almost daily been wounded by disorderly noises, not only from students, but (and mostly) from other persons, who ought to blush for such base conduct, i cannot say, that i am unacquainted with the authors of the nuisance, and could easily designate to you at least half a dozen. such cries as "go on! stop!--out of the institution with that man!--kill him!" besides multitudes of vulgar chuckles, screams and other horrid vociferations have been heard by me from well-known voices, until at times i felt as if i could support the vexation no longer. numberless insults in the street and even menaces were constantly thrown out by a low gang, who were evidently hired for the vile purpose, and i have seen things, which i never witnessed before either in europe or america. a certain firm of this city seems to have commenced the nefarious hostilities. i have suffered encroachments on my personal safety to which no american citizen ought for one moment to submit. as i cannot afford, nor feel inclined to lose my time and health any longer, i would respectfully submit to your honor's consideration _my claim to the protection of the laws of the city_ in this respect, to which as an american citizen i am entitled, and the necessity of a sterner maintenance of order by the police of the city. disagreeable and painful as it is for any one to come into hostile collision with fellow-citizens, there are nevertheless cases, in which such enmities may be innocently contracted, and holding mine to be of such a nature, i may confidently expect the ready and effectual interposition of your honor and of the honorable members of the common council, to whom the order and honor of the city must ever be dear, in a matter that seems to me to involve one of the most cherished principles of our republican freedom, viz., the personal safety and peaceable domicile of every member of our community, of every citizen of this vast republic. to sum up my complaints briefly, they are as follows:--1st, personal hostility towards me in the institution itself; 2dly, horrid footsteps, noises and loud conferences under my window by day and by night; 3dly, menacing insults from low people in the street, without the slightest provocation on my part. trusting that your honor may find an early occasion to give me an opportunity for finding my firm conviction true, that the majesty of the law is capable of being upheld by its representatives in the community, and that i may have a different tale to tell respecting the morality of the city and my own sense of personal safety, i am your honor's most respectful and obedient servant. g. j. adler. letter iii.--(answer to no. i.) rev. dr.---dear sir,--understanding that you are a friend of professor adler, of this university, and know his brother, i take the liberty of calling your attention to his present condition.--during the last winter he gave various indications of a disordered mind, and these have become more decided during the past summer. i am distressed to see his haggard look, and have feared unhappy results. he is unfitted for the business of teaching, and his friends would do well to get him another institution, adapted to such, away from study. i think there should be no delay in the matter.--we all esteem dr. adler highly, and would be delighted with his restoration to the full use of his fine intellectual powers. may i solicit your fraternal aid in this case, and please let me hear from you at an early day. i am with great regard, yours, university of the city of } new-york, _sept_. 19th, '53.} (signed) isaac ferris. epilogomena to letter iii. as the above letter was handed to my personal friends for the purpose of conveying the desired intelligence, and sent to me, when the report of my illness and mental derangement was found to be groundless and false, there can be no impropriety or breach of courtesy or justice in its publication. the serious consequences to which it gave rise, the deprivation of my liberty for six entire months, and the suspension of my functions as an academic instructor (though not of my activity as an author, which under the most inauspicious circumstances was still continued) alike demand, that it should be made known in connection with my own communications before and during my imprisonment. a comment or two will exhibit the contents of the doctor's epistle in their proper light. 1st, the dr's. letter is itself a contradiction and an egregious symptom of insanity on his part, which is, moreover, confirmed by his previous conduct from his first entrance into the institution. in comparing the university with the lunatic asylum, i find that the former during the winter of 1852-'53 (i may add, ever since my return from europe in 1850) was a far more disorderly and irrational place than the latter, where the occasional confusion or the perpetual (sane and insane) perversity of men is the lamentable, but natural and necessary (consequently _irresponsible_) result, of an internal physical or intellectual disorder or defect, which is moreover susceptible of classification and of a psychological exposition, while in the former it was "got up" for the particular purpose of subjugation or of expulsion, and where consequently it was the result of _responsible_ perversity and malice, _susceptible of moral reprobation_. 2d, the allegation of my being "unfitted for the business of teaching," and of the propriety of finding me "another institution, adapted to such, away from study," is an absurd and a libelous perversion of the truth, which it is scarcely worth while to refute. from the year 1839, the year of my matriculation at the institution, to the present hour i have had no other profession, except that of having appeared in the additional capacity of an author. even during my undergraduate career i taught successfully the various disciplines of our academic course, with the approbation and to the satisfaction of the faculty, members of which examined and admitted to promotion several of my private scholars, who had been expressly referred to me for tuition in the classics, in mathematics, in philosophy, &c.--of my courses of instruction since my official and regular connection with the institution (which dates from the year 1846) in the language and in the literature which i was more especially appointed to profess, it is not necessary to speak here, the university itself having offered but little inducement and no emolument or honor to the cultivation of the modern languages. in all the professional services, however, which i have had occasion to render to the institution of late years, my qualifications and my efficiency could never have been honestly or honorably questioned. i have prepared my own text-books, which have found their way into most of the literary and educational institutions of this continent to some extent into europe even. one of them was begun at the very time, when "the indications of a disordered mind had become more decided," and was completed with scarcely a day's intermission of my work at the lunatic asylum, where i subsequently improved my leisure (as far as my shattered health would permit) by zealously engaging in some preliminary studies for a history of modern literature.--it is equally needless to expatiate on my extensive acquaintance, direct and indirect, with academic men and methods both in the united states and in europe, where within a few years past i spent an entire year in the pursuit of literary and philosophical studies at two of its most prominent universities.--_to my morality, both private and social, and to my religion, no one but a hyper-puristic religionist or a calvinistic tyrant could possibly object._--the real objection, and the cause of my being unfitted for the business of instruction must therefore be looked for elsewhere. from various indications and from several catastrophes in my personal history, brought about by sectarian jealousy and fanatical intrigue, from certain significant changes in the faculty of the institution, and from innumerable efforts to subject me to a creed, or to the social control of certain religious parties, i should infer that it manifestly and palpably resided in a mistrust of what is vulgarly termed "the soundness of my views" on certain questions, never discussed in respectable literary institutions, and beyond their jurisdiction, or in other words _in a suspicion of heresy_.--i claim, however, in opposition to all these pretensions, which i deem an absurdity, my right (which is _inalienable_ and _imprescriptible_) to my moral and intellectual culture, commenced under the auspices and fostering care of my alma mater herself (during a former administration) and continued and perfected by years of serious and earnest effort in america and europe, since. _i recognize no sectarian guidance or control whatever in any of the independent sciences, cultivated from time immemorial at academic institutions, much less in the science of sciences, the very law and indispensable condition of which is absolute freedom from all external authority or restraint._ the law of intellectual freedom, of which the reader will find a short exposition in the concluding document of this pamphlet (which i have extracted and translated from a distinguished authority on the "philosophy of right") is recognized by the spirit and the letter of the constitution and by the political and social history of the united states, by the revised statutes of the state of new-york, by all the leading universities _of protestant and catholic europe_, and by a number of similar institutions in america, among which stands, "professedly" at least, the university of the city of new-york. the attempts of certain parties in connection with the institution and _ab extra_ to "smother" (to use one of their own cant words) and to crush my independence by gravely endeavoring to _coerce me into an alliance with a questionable religionism, which is abhorrent to my ideas, my habits and my sentiments, and by fomenting internal disorders for the purpose of effecting an exclusion_, are an unconstitutional, an unjust, an iniquitous invasion of my most sacred rights as a man, an american citizen, a scholar and a professor. i repel, therefore, dr. ferris' insinuation as a maliciously astute and as a false one, which of itself declares the dr. _incompetent to decide upon the merits of a real scholar, and utterly unfit for the important trust of presiding over the interests of any other but a sectarian institution of the narrowest description, of the most painfully exclusive moral perversity_. to this i may add, that in consideration of the many and various disciplines, earnestly and steadily cultivated by me for several years past, such as intellectual philosophy, the learned and modern languages, linguistics and the history of literature generally, i could in academic justice _demand the right_ to instruct in any one of the departments for which i was fitted. that such a right exists, and that it is applicable to my case, the reader may learn from sir william hamilton's essays on university education, recently republished in america, to which i refer _passim_. i can therefore confidently challenge not only the chancellor, but, in case of a concurrence in his sentiments, the entire faculty of the university to the following proposition:--in case my capacity to teach or lecture academically is questioned, i propose to take, and i demand one of the following chairs; _where under suitable auspices and with proper and regular provisions for the maintenance of order, i could at once begin_:--1st, the latin language and literature.--2d, the greek ditto, ditto.--3d, moral and intellectual philosophy, either systematically or historically.--4th, history or the general history of literature (of which i have at present a text-book in preparation).--5th, linguistics or the classification of languages, including general grammar.--6th, the history of modern (european) languages and literatures.--7th, the elements of the sanscrit, of which i still have a mss. grammar, compiled by myself for my private use, during the winter of 1851.--i omit mentioning the remaining academic disciplines, for which i have no particular taste, but which i still could teach, and for which i could prepare the text-books, if it were necessary to do so. 3d, the alleged indications of insanity were _utterly unfounded_ at the time they were made. i had recovered my usual health and spirits immediately after the commencement of last year, about the beginning of july '53, when those who had flagrantly disturbed the quiet of my residence in and about the university building had vanished into the country. of the winter of 1852-'53 i only recollect, that subsequently to the dismissal of my class, which i could not in honor consent to hear any longer, i made a fruitless attempt to continue my private studies, and to finish a commentary on a greek drama which i had begun at the commencement of the term, and that the ominous symptoms of _external insanity_ about me soon increased to such an alarming extent, that i was forced to lay aside my pen, unable to endure the outrage and annoyance any longer; that gangs of scandalous ruffians in the shape of boys, girls, men and women, many of whom i knew by their voices, kept up at certain intervals, by day and by night, a nefarious system of mystification and of nuisance from january to the end of june, in the council-room of the institution, in the hall, before my door, in front of my window, and on the parade ground; that in consequence of all this my rest at night was completely broken, until i could only sleep by day; that after a while i was confined to my bed most of the time, and that i frequently did not rise for breakfast till 6 o'clock, p. m.; that it was painful and disgusting for me to be awake, and that all i read for several successive months was "hegel's logic" for two or three hours a day, and that for some time i only eat once a day. in may, i think, i fled to a neighboring state and university, partly with the intention of changing my place of residence.--as a psychologist i was well aware, that sleep was a sovereign preventive, as well as a remedy for all the disorders of the mind, especially for those which might arise from external causes such as those i have just described; i therefore anticipated and _prevented_ the unhappy consequences which the dr. seems to have expected from the outrageous nuisance of his cherished institution, where such scenes of scandal only _date from the time his prospective and his actual entrance on the duties of his office_, and really seem to have been made to order, i know not for whose benefit (certainly not for mine). _during the summer i was_, in consequence of the happy reaction and repose, _unusually gay and regular in my work_. i then wrote an introduction to schiller's maid of orleans, another one to goethe's iphigenia, and a third to tieck's puss in boots, all of which have since been published in my new manual of german literature. i deny, therefore, having ever given any symptoms of insanity whatsoever at any time of the year, while i admit that a renewal of the scandal (which the parties concerned have endeavored to revive since my release this spring, but which i checked by a speedy notice to the police court and to some of my friends), in the autumn might have led to such calamitous results. neither my kant, nor my rauch, nor my hegel, nor any other philosopher or psychologist could for one moment be induced to admit, _that the presence of external causes and tendencies to intellectual derangement were necessarily attended or followed by the malady itself_. this would be an egregious logical fallacy, to which no intelligent physician in or out of the lunatic asylum could for one moment subscribe, without justly incurring the risk of being charged with an inexcusable lack of professional knowledge and experience or what is still worse, with a criminal connivance at an unjust and inquitous conspiracy against the reputation and the life of an american citizen. to the charge of the folly of suffering so long and so severely from so gross a system of disorder which might have speedily been checked by the extra-academic authorities of the city, i can only reply, that the confusion and the consequent embarrassment was so great, that it was impossible for me at the time to come to any decision as to the course to be pursued. the most advisable policy would have been, to have left entirely, and to have directed the correction or the punishment from a distance. the following letters, written from the lunatic asylum (_between which and the university there was a manifest internal harmony, and which was evidently commissioned to complete the work of humiliation and of subjugation_), may serve to elucidate the facts of the case with some additional particulars. to the above mentioned causes of the ruin of my health, i may add, that during the same winter i had an opportunity of witnessing a resurrection of "salem witchcraft," practiced on me by a certain lady, a mother in israel of this city, who was manifestly in connection with the ultra-calvinistic faction of the university, which is the one to which dr. ferris is indebted for his elevation. i moreover discovered in the same connection, one of the two sources, from which the low insults in the street, at certain well-known hours of my walks, in certain places and directions, (to which i made allusion in my letter to the mayor of the city,) had emanated, and i received some additional light on certain events of my personal history, to which i allude in letter no. 5.--a father in israel, a gray-headed sinner in my opinion, likewise informed me _that they had the irish to defend them_.--i venture to assert that few of my countrymen, except perhaps the lowest rabble, would ever lend their aid to such nefarious purposes. from all that i have had occasion to observe of social disorder and discontent in the city for several years past, i am sure that there are men who foment intestine commotions, who shamelessly and openly conspire against the honor and the interests, if not against the property and lives of their fellow-citizens, and whom the state ought to prosecute and punish as offenders against a clearly defined law of the statute-book. my sanity at the time of arrest i can establish:--1st, by the testimony of those who saw me daily, and more especially, by that of a young man, who came to see me frequently, after the reception of dr. ferris' letter, and who in fact brought it from the office. 2dly, by the testimony of a distinguished physician, who about a week before, dressed a slight wound on one of my eye-brows, received from a fall against my sofa in the dark. 3dly, by the fact, that i was quietly and constantly engaged in writing, and in daily communication with the printer, who stereotyped my "hand-book of german literature." _symptoms of unusual excitement, in consequence of such an outrage, are no proof of derangement._ letter iv. bloomingdale asylum, _dec. 26th_, 1853. to----, washington, d. c. dear sir, for several years past, i have repeatedly been on the point of making an effort to resuscitate a slight, but to me no less cherished acquaintance, by giving you some account of my doings and purposes, which, i have sometimes flattered myself, might not be without interest both to yourself and to such of your co-adjutors in washington, as have enlisted with you in the noble cause of extending and diffusing knowledge among men. of the proceedings of your institution i have occasionally informed myself, both from the pamphlets and reports periodically submitted to the public, and more especially from the volumes of regular "transactions," in the archæological and linguistical parts of which, i have taken so much the greater interest, as of late years my own attention has at times been almost exclusively directed to the same field of investigation. it is true, i have as yet neither been able nor willing to give any positive result of my studies. i have hardly done anything more than "to break the ice." this, however, i may safely say to have done, having not only had the best opportunities, (since i saw you last in 1848) of surveying the field in the time-honored centres of intellectual light on the other side of the atlantic, but having also since my return, as a member of several learned associations, had special occasion and incitement to keep alive my interest in these engaging pursuits. and if there be any truth in the ancient adage: [greek: archê hêmisy pantos], i may perhaps even entertain the hope (_non invitá minervâ_) of some future concentration of my somewhat desultory excursions in these regions of light (where ignorance indeed, but ignorance alone, sees only darkness) to some radiant focal point. there are a number of subjects, closely connected with the inquiries, that come under the cognizance of the historico-philosophical section of your institute, which, i see, are agitated anew by the _savants_ of the old world, and which to the resolution of certain problems, relating to the primitive history of this continent, are equally important here, perhaps entitled to our special consideration. recent investigations would seem to show, for example, that our genial and acute du ponceau had by no means said the last word on the subject he has so learnedly reported. several new works on the origin and classification of languages, that have made their appearance in berlin, &c., since the day of humboldt's attempt, would seem to invite to similar efforts on our side, and with special reference to the immensity of our cis-atlantic field, which ought to be [greek: kat' exochên] adopted as our own. having most of these materials at hand, i have sometimes been tempted myself to try, whether by an _exposition of the present state_ of that science, as cultivated by the germans particularly, a new impulsion might not be imparted to it among ourselves. some such purpose has been among the tasks, which i had proposed to myself for the present winter. the sudden suspension of my studies, and the consequent uncertainty of my affairs, however, have so seriously deranged my plans, that now i almost despair of being able to accomplish any of my more immediate and necessary purposes.--you will undoubtedly be surprised to learn, that i have been an inmate of the lunatic asylum, at bloomingdale, for now nearly three months; your surprise will be still greater, when you come to learn, by what sort of machinations i have been brought here. for several years past, i have been made the object of a systematic and invidious persecution, in consequence of which i have been obliged to shift my residence from one place to another, to spend my means in involuntary exile and unnecessary travelling, and altogether to lead a life of a discouraging uncertainty. shortly after my visit to washington, (1848), where i saw you last, i was driven away from new-york, while yet absorbed in the midst of an arduous undertaking, (my large german and english dictionary, which in consequence of my forced removal from the place of printing, i had to finish at an inconvenient distance), under circumstances of the most aggravated insults and abuses, (such as i had never dreamt men capable of,) and about six months after its completion the same miserable clique had already "finished" me in boston and a regular "_hedjra_" to europe was the consequence.[1]--i spent a year in london, paris and berlin, in a miserable struggle to repair my shattered health, (i had a cough, contracted from sheer vexation, while in the clutches of the miserable wretches, who seemed to be determined to vex me out of existence, which clung to me a year and ever and anon returns again,) and what was still more difficult, to forget the loathsome reminiscences of the immediate past by bringing myself in contact with the sanatory influences of the literature and art of the old world; partly with the intention of remaining there. i returned, however, in the hope of finding my difficulties subsided. but the same odious conspiracy, which had even contrived to mar my comfort and happiness in one place on the other side, (in paris, where i spent the greater part of an academic year, at the university and libraries, in various studies,) had, as i found to my surprise, kept up a malevolent espionage over my peregrinations even, and i have since been subjected to a series of vexations and intrigues, which at times made me regret that i had not preferred any lot in a foreign land and among entire strangers to such an ignoble re-establishment at home. a personal attachment of former years was made use of to harass and lacerate my feelings, and an underhanded, venomous persecution, (which the parties, who were the authors, and who were in alliance with certain ecclesiastical tricksters, did not even blush to own), followed me at every step. the scum of new-york in the shape of negroes, irishmen, germans, &c., were hired, in well-organized gangs, to drop mysterious allusions and to offer me other insults in the street, (and thus i was daily forced to see and hear things in new-york, of which i had never dreamt before,) while a body of proselyting religionists were busy in their endeavors to make me a submissive tool of some ecclesiastical party or else to rob me of the last prospect of eating a respectable piece of bread and butter. this odious vice of certain countrymen of yours was in fact the prolific source of all the difficulties i complain of, and it is remotely the cause of my confinement here. [1] the details of this scandalous act of vandalism, which though it nearly cost me my life, i did not even mention in the preface to my large german and english lexicon, finished in the course of the same year, are too diffuse and complicated, to be noticed here. as the leading personages of this drama, however, were the representatives of powerful and influential ecclesiastical organizations, and as shortly before, repeated and desperate proselyting efforts had been made by some of these men, and by their miserable underlings, i cannot possibly be wrong in designating the vile commotion, by which i was swept from my post, _as the venomous explosion of ignoble and of bigoted elements_, which have in fact been the prolific source of all the confusion i complain of now. i distinctly remember the treacherous and inquisitorial anxiousness of a certain (now) president of a prominent university, (with whom i was reading logic,) to become acquainted with german metaphysics, the mysterious meetings of a certain ecclesiastical committee, the efforts of a certain temperance coterie at a certain hotel, and a dozen other despicable conclaves and combinations, whose machinations were too palpable to be mistaken or forgotten. i also know, that a certain philosophy to which i was known to be particularly partial, is looked upon with jealous suspicion by certain superficial and insignificant pretenders to that science, whose ignorance and malice forges weapons of destruction out of the noblest and sublimest conceptions that have ever emanated from the intellect of man. to all these ambitious and noisy enemies of intellectual freedom, _whose littleness asperses, calumniates and levels whatever is gigantic and sublime_, i would here say, once for all, that if they could but rationally comprehend this goethe, this jean paul, this fichte, kant and hegel, whom they regard with so much horror, their _moral regeneration_ would almost be beyond a doubt, and if they could think and write like them, their title to enduring fame would never need an advocate or petty trickster to defend it. in the course of this last year, however, these manoeuvres assumed a still more startling and iniquitous shape than before. hitherto my _domicile_ had been safe and quiet. for, although meddlesome attempts had been made to force certain associations on me and to cut me off from others, i had still been left sufficiently unmolested to accomplish some study without any flagrant interruptions. this last resource of self-defence and happiness was destroyed me at the beginning of last winter. new appointments at the university, (some of them degradations to me, at any rate, employed for _humiliating_ purposes,) and the petty jealousies, nay even animosities, which among men of a certain order of intellect are the natural consequence of such changes, soon introduced disorder into the institution, fostered a spirit of rebellion against me, and before the end of the first term of the present year, my course of instruction was entirely broken up. the difficulty (which in fact was wholly due to a shameless inefficiency of discipline,) was enveloped in a sort of mummery, the sum and substance of which, however, was plainly this: "that if i remained in the institution in the unmolested enjoyment of a peaceful life of study, my independent progress would be an encroachment on certain colleagues of mine;" and this was in fact, thrown out as a hint for me to leave. the rent of my private room in the building had _already been nearly doubled_ by prof. j. ---for the same reason. as the university, however, had contributed but an insignificant item to my support, i neither considered it necessary to remove from the building, which is accessible to all classes of tenants, nor did i make much account of a self-made suspension of my course, although i grieved to think of the means that had been used to superinduce such a necessity. prof. l----, who has always exhibited a pettiness of disposition, altogether unworthy of a man of science, had _openly before my eyes_ played the confidant and supporter of a disorderly student, who on my motion was under college discipline, and the meetings of the faculty were made so disgusting to me, that i could no longer attend to make my reports. new methods of annoyance were devised. the council-room of the institution, next door to mine, was converted into an omnibus for noisy meetings of every description--religious gatherings in the morning--ominous vociferations during recitation time--obstreperous conclaves of students in the afternoon--and violent political town gatherings in the evening. besides all this, the menials of the institution were corrupted into unusual insolence towards me, (among them my special attendant,) and the vexations of this description became so annoying to me, that for some time i had actually to do my own chamber-work. i had almost forgotten to mention certain mysterious _desk_-slammings in the council-room, and equally significant and intimidating _door_-slammings, particularly at a room opposite mine, which communicates (i believe) with a private part of the building, now occupied by a dentist, (that sublime science having also found its way into our college,) at unseasonable hours of the night, sometimes accompanied with various remarks, one of which now occurs to me: "oh, you are not one of us!" (sung in operatic style.) the quiet of my residence was, moreover, destroyed by horrid vociferations at all hours of the night, before my very door, and regularly under my window, and these were made not only by students, (of which there were only a few, _supported in their insubordination_) but by an extra-academic body of men and women, certain zealous religionists and their impenitent coadjutors, evidently the abettors of my in-door enemies, _and by two of my colleagues_. a night or week of such proceedings would be enough to set a man crazy. what must be their effect if they continue for months? and yet expressions like the following were perpetually ringing in my ears:--"go on!" "you _are_ the man!" "you are _not_ the man!" "go on! no, stop!" (by the same voice in the same breath.) "out of the institution with that man!" (by the laurelled valedictorian of last year.), "stand up!" (by prof. c----, close to my door.) "he started with nothing!" (by the same voice in the same place). "pray!" (by ditto.) "you have finished!" "go away!" "thank god, that that man is out of the institution!" (by a lady member of a certain religious fraternity, on terms of intimacy with a certain prominent politician of the neighborhood.) "pursue him, worm that never d-i-e-s!" (theatrically shrieked by the same voice.) "you are a dead man! dead, dead, dead, dead!" (by the voice of a certain popular preacher.) "he is deceived, he is deceived!" (by the spokesman of a body of theological students in front of the neighboring seminary, as i was passing.) and at times even: "die!" "break!" (on the supposition that i was in embarrassed circumstances.) "_whore!_" even was one of the delectable cries! to these i should add the mysterious blowings of noses (both within _sight_ and _hearing_,) frightfully significant coughs, horse-laughs, shouts and other methods of demonstration, such as striking the sidewalk in front of my windows with a cane, usually accompanied with some remark: "i understand that passage so!" for example. a clique in the historical society, (where i had been several times insulted at the meetings,) and several religious coteries and secret organizations were evidently largely concerned in the business. to these noises and sounds corresponded an equally ingenious series of sights, so arranged as to leave no doubt whatever, but that the impressions of my sense of hearing were no delusion, and that there was no mistake about the authors. my spirits and health were completely shattered by the close of winter, and i crawled out a miserable existence, being confined to my bed most of the time, unable to do anything but to read an hour or two a day. the summer season emptied the university and the city, and i was relieved from the pressure. the repose was like a gift from heaven. a stout resolution soon consigned the terrors of the past to a _provisional_ oblivion. i collected myself, recovered my usual composure and bodily strength, made arrangements for two additional text-books to my series, at which after the 1st of july i began to work steadily, in the hope of getting out of my pecuniary difficulty which the recent events of my life had entailed. one of these is now ready for publication and will appear in a short time. after i had fairly recovered the proper balance of mind, i wrote to the mayor of the city, and to dr. ferris, the chancellor of our university. to the former i complained of persecution _ab extra_, which might be stopped by police intervention, of the latter i demanded explanations for personal vexations and insults. besides having connived at, nay participated in the disorders of the institution, and besides having employed the menials of the establishment to enforce a ridiculous submission to an unconstitutional authority, the dr. had in the presence of the alumni of the institution, convened at a banquet in the astor house, openly insulted me by saying; "_shall i have to become the step-father to that man?_" and again: "_next year i shall see another man in that man's place!_" both these expressions were used by the dr. as he stood before the assembled guests, while making a short speech. in uttering them, he looked at me with a supercilious grin, and the question was addressed to the opposite side of the house, between which and the speaker there was a manifest collusion. my letter consisted of a protestation against the scandalous disorders of the institution in general, and a request that the dr. would retract the obnoxious offer of an unacceptable paternity as publicly as it was made, to include also a recantation of the words: "_death you shall have!_" uttered near the door that connects my room with that of the dr's., _in his own voice_ and in connection with a declamation of patrick henry's famous speech, "give me liberty or &c." this letter of mine was answered by spectral demonstrations (not unlike those of ghost-rappers,) in the chancellor's room (next to my private study) between 11 and 12 o'clock on the night after its delivery, and by the insolent behavior of the university scullion, who on the following day after many other impertinences told me: "_you must not speak so to the chancellor, my son!_" no other reply was made, and no further notice taken of my complaint. and yet my deportment towards dr. ferris had never been disrespectful, while his whole course towards me had been singularly provoking and offensive. he seemed to be ignorant of the fact, that i was both an alumnus and an officer of the institution, and that as such i expected to be regarded in the light of a gentleman and of a scholar. by ignoring my protestations the dr. treated me like a freshman, while his goings in and out of the building and his degrading alliance with the menials of the institution, who were the accomplices of the disorder, gave him the character rather of a mechanic's "boss" watching over an apprentice than of a dignified president of a respectable literary institution. i had by that time, (the middle of september last,) almost wholly recovered my health; the horrid recollections of last winter having been supplanted by the amenities of my summer studies in solitude; and i had nearly completed one of the new text-books i had agreed to prepare. a week glided away--and two--the session commenced--i was quietly engaged in my own business, without making any overtures to commence my public duties. in fact, i hesitated about commencing at all. about the first of october, a young man, a nephew of mine, brought me a telegraphic despatch from a distant city, requesting a confirmation or denial of the report there circulated, that i was dangerously ill, unconscious of myself, &c., and in immediate imperative need of friendly aid, being neither mentally nor bodily able to take care of myself. as there was a mistake in the name of the enquirer, i considered the matter a hoax, got up for mischief or the amusement of some inquisitive party, and retorted an abrupt telegraphic: "_none of your business, sir!_" a few days after, i received a letter of complaint from my brother-in-law, of----, stating that the telegraphic enquiry had been made by himself, and with the kindest regard to my comfort; that a letter from dr. ferris to a brother divine of that city had been the cause of the sudden consternation among my relatives there. the dr.'s letter was itself enclosed, having been surrendered to the party for whose benefit it was composed. in this letter the dr. declares me _incompetent for the business of instruction_, alleges, that during the last winter i had given various symptoms of a disordered mind, which during the summer had increased (?!!) to such an extent, as to give serious alarm to the humane feelings of the dr., and in consideration of which, he advises my friends "to take me at once away from study, to some institution adapted to such." on the morning of the receipt of this intelligence (the 5th of oct., i think,) i had just arranged my papers for my day's work, and in the best spirits and in excellent health, (deducting a cough which during the infamies of last winter i had contracted,) was about to begin preparing some copy for the printer. this strange way of answering a just complaint and grave accusations very naturally brought back the recollections of all the contumelies and horrors of last winter, than which the reign of terror has nothing more startling, save perhaps only the guillotine or the inquisition. the patience of job could not have held out any longer. i went at once in search of the dr., and finding him in conversation with prof. loomis, in the lecture room of the latter, asked him whether he had written the letter i held in my hands. his cool reply in the affirmative was itself an insult, made as it was in a manner, which confirmed my previous grounds of offence and the impression, that the dr. would not remember that i was not an undergraduate in search of a step-father, but a gentleman and an officer of the college. impatience and anger could not be restrained, and i told him that _he was a ---and a ----!_ and read his epistle publicly in the recitation-room of one of my colleagues, and in the hall of the university, at the same time inveighing in somewhat violent terms against the disorders of last winter. the result was general amazement.--my conduct may be considered too hasty by many. it is true i might have acted more rationally and calmly. as it is, however, so flagrant an outrage deserved exposition, and the production of _such_ a statement made after _such_ provocations is not only a justifiable act of self-defence, _but a merited punishment of intrigue and falsehood_, _which i shall never have occasion to regret_. few men after such scenes would have stopped short at mere words. from the "_take care!_" of proff. l. ---and j. ----, (who were criminally involved in the conspiracy of '48,) i inferred, that something was coming; indeed, i myself inquired, whether they were going to let such a grave matter rest without notice, as they had done with all my lenient protestations. two days after, on coming home from a walk, i was arrested by two officers of the police, consigned to a low prison for several hours, and without trial, (which was said to be over,) and without any legal counsel, _converted into an insane man by the oath of two physicians_, (one of them quite a young man,) who pretended to found their opinion on an examination of about ten minutes, and since then i have lived among lunatics in the asylum, from which i date this letter. my asseverations and objections before the justice were in vain. dr. ferris and a wall-street broker cosily persuaded the judge in my presence, "to make me comfortable!" i have since finished the volume i had begun, though my absentment from my library obliged me to leave it less perfect than i had intended to make it. for this purpose i was rational enough, it seems. i venture, moreover, to assert, that in all other respects (save only the obstinate affirmation of the _reality_ of the scenes of last winter, which i am absurdly expected to deny,) my conduct _since_ my imprisonment here has been found to be that of a man in the full possession of all his intellectual powers. nor can the physician at the head of this institution conscientiously confirm either the sentence of the judge, or the affidavit of his professional brethren. i look upon it as perjury and a miserable shift to evade the real case of complaint, if any there be. a rational trial before a tribunal, where each side of the question could have been produced, would have been the part of honorable men, conscious of their own rectitude, and of the justice of their cause. but what aggravates these proceedings, is the strange expectation that i should humbly acquiesce in the supposititious incrimination of having been too unsafe to be left at large, of having been really incapable mentally and physically to take care of myself--and the still more singular menace of _swearing me perpetually crazy, and of effecting a permanent abridgment of my liberty_, in case i should attempt to defend myself, either legally or with my pen, against so palpable and serious infraction of the dearest rights of an american citizen. the scenes of last winter, of which i have given you but an imperfect outline, which were got up for the purpose of consolidating the power and preponderance of my adversaries, and of frustrating my efforts to defend my position in my usual way, i. e., by giving positive proof of my ability by actual services to the cause of academic education--_these scenes of scandal and of terror i am expected to call a delusion of my senses, and thus to falsify my personal history_, _accuse my consciousness of mendacity, and literally to aid and abet the iniquity of my aggressors_. the day before my arrest, _i was solicited_ by a number of students to commence my course, which i consented to do by the beginning of the following week, and as this year i had already the proof-sheets of several disquisitions on german literature in my hands, i could have begun publicly and under the most favorable auspices. but it would seem that these gentlemen were determined that i should _not_ begin, and that they adopted this most admirable and effectual method of anticipating my perfectly regular and legitimate movements. indeed, by the enquiry, "_what are you going to do?_" i have already been desired to infer, that an entire abandonment of my profession was expected of me. its exercise had already been rendered as difficult as possible, several members of the council having for several years past virtually superseded me by encouraging two other men on the same spot, which i in all honor was entitled to occupy myself, and which contained hardly room enough for one. what would humboldt, grimm, ampère, burnouf, and some of our other friends on the other side of the water say to such proceedings? i am reduced to penury, when from my public position i might be expected to be independent, i am deprived of the liberty of academic instruction by the terrorism of a narrow-minded clique, while successfully and diligently engaged in adding fresh honor to my post, i am bereft of freedom altogether by men, who owe their power to the fortuitous concurrence of local and sectarian influences, who are utter strangers to the large humanity of liberal culture, and who are too ignorant to decide upon the merits of a man of letters, being themselves destitute of both name and place among those who represent the literary and scientific enlightenment of our age and country. but i have wearied your patience already too long. i should like to have my case properly understood at washington, and you will pardon my having burdened you with so much of the detail. in regard to my future movements i am uncertain. supposing even my liberation to be near at hand, it will be difficult to commence in the midst of winter in the city, where all educational arrangements are made in the autumn. this fact was well known to those who have tied my hands. several educational works i am anxious to complete, one particularly, at which i was interrupted a year ago this month. i am, with great consideration, most respectfully and truly yours, g. j. adler. letter v. bloomingdale asylum, nov. 17th, 1853. my dear sir, in reply to yours of the 12th inst., i can say what i might have said on the first day of my confinement; that neither the chancellor nor any one else at the university can have or ever could have any apprehension whatever of being molested by me in any place or in any manner whatever, _provided they mind their own business_ and cease to give me any further provocation. the chancellor's conduct was pre-eminently odious, and beneath the dignity of his office. his letter, which i still hold in my hands, is as ludicrous as it is false. he is certainly very much mistaken in supposing that by his tiny authority he can so easily crush a scholar and a professor of my reputation and "standing." "proud of my connection with the university and anxious to secure my co-operation," when but a month before he solicited the "fraternal aid" of a distant brother divine in his attempt to ship me out of the city as a sick man, of a distempered mind, concerning whom he was most deeply and devoutly concerned, and (what is still more strange,) of a man whom he pronounces "unfitted for the business of instruction?" this is his own language and this is the whole discovery, the _dénouement_ of the dirty transactions by which i was harassed last winter. i admit that my conduct may be regarded as too hasty. i might have defended myself in a calmer, more dignified and more effectual manner. as it is, however, i shall make no apology and i still think, that a month's imprisonment in the tombs or a severe castigation of a tangible description last winter would have conferred a lasting moral benefit on certain persons in that institution. in making this remark, i by no means intend to throw out any menace, nor would i myself like the office of knout-master-general either to his imperial majesty at st. petersburgh, or to his excellency the governor, or to the president of the united states; but i refer simply to the moral good that would undoubtedly have accrued to the souls of certain students and professors at the university during the last winter from a dose or two of the "good old english discipline." as to the infamous and unearthly noises that worried and distracted me for at least six months, the ruin of my health and the entire suspension of my studies were too grave a result to be easily overlooked or forgotten, and the ignoble and bigoted clique at the bottom of that brutal terrorism have certainly not failed to leave a lasting impression of their power on my mind. no denial or assurance to the contrary will ever invalidate the evidence of my senses. what i saw with my own eyes, and heard with my own ears at the time i complained, is as true as are the phenomena of my present experience. the guillotine alone was wanting to cap the climax of those high-handed proceedings. it was a repetition of the same narrow vandalism which in 1848 exiled me out of the city, and in 1849 made me leave america in disgust. while i therefore disclaim cherishing or ever having cherished the remotest desire to molest the peace or safety of any member of the faculty--the fear of corporal punishment betrays a bad conscience on the part of my adversaries and is a virtual admission of their guilt, or else it is a fiction invented to patch up a hopeless case;--i would at the same time assure all those concerned in this business, that i am not an advocate of nonresistance or of tame submission to such a gross injustice, and that in case of need i can wield a pen to defend my rights before an intelligent public, the opinion of which in matters of this kind, in america particularly, is after all the last and highest instance of appeal. the case is therefore perfectly plain. i deny having ever given any just cause of apprehension to any man in the institution. the very supposition is an absurdity. _they_ are the iniquitous aggressors throughout. they have to endeavored to crush my intellectual independence by carrying the principle of conformity to a ridiculous extent, and by enforcing a submission to which no man of honor without the loss of all his intellectual powers could submit.--i told the chancellor on the spur and in the excitement of the moment what i thought of the falsehoods contained in his epistle and of his previous conduct which, if he is a gentleman, he is bound to justify. he gravely ignored the letter of complaint i had addressed to him a month before, or rather answered it by spectral demonstrations the night after its reception. such mummery and such terrorism, practiced on an officer of a literary institution by a fellow-officer is surely out of place and dr. ferris has not yet learnt (it seems) the meaning of an a. m. and of certain other rights of academic men, (to say nothing of the courtesy customary among men of letters of every age and in all civilized countries), to introduce or suffer such singular proceedings in a respectable institution. as for myself i do not intend to be intimidated in the least, and if my life and health last, i shall find the means of defending both my honor and my position as a gentleman and a scholar. it is all idle to attempt to crush or gag a man by terror. the humbug of the spirit-rappers is no greater than the jugglery of door-and-desk-slamming, of vociferations and mystifications so successfully employed at the university during the whole of last winter. as it regards therefore my alleged insanity on these points, i must confess, that if a _denial_ of the _reality_ of this terrorism by which the university (and certain societies) have carried on their nefarious business of subjugation, be required of me, then i can _never_ become rational again without adding falsehood to cowardice. it smacks too much of the outrage of '48, when i was _compelled_ to admit the most damnable affronts as delusive impressions of my senses and when other men's infernal-pit-iniquity was alleged to be the offspring of my own tobacco-fume! this is subjectivism with a vengeance! it is too big a pill to swallow. it produces rather too great an excess of abdominal convulsions, as the doctors would say. if by my conduct i have incurred any censure or violated any law, or menaced the safety or the life or property of any man in or out of the institution, why in the name of reason and of common sense do not these gentlemen proceed in the regular way, to secure exemption from the fear of danger? could they not have legally coerced me to keep the peace? or could they not (a still more rational course) have requested a committee of the council to meet for the purpose of examining and adjusting a matter of such grave importance? could i not and can i not now expose the hollow misery of the sham, the real nature of which is as plain as the noon-day sun? the course they have adopted is surely derogatory to the moral integrity of the parties concerned, and my stay among lunatics and maniacs is an unpardonable abuse of an excellent institution. the day before my arrest, eight young gentleman volunteered to commence the study of the language which i more especially profess and i had engaged to begin with a public lecture in the monday following. these proceedings rob me now, for this winter at least, of the only advantage, which my connection with the institution affords me, and it is manifest enough that the difficulty was "got up" for the express purpose of anticipating and of frustrating my preparations for the present semestre. it still seems to me, that these gentlemen incriminate themselves in two ways:--1st, by desiring me to remove out of the building, they incur the suspicion of being themselves the authors or abettors of the nuisance i complain of. i would propose to have some one stay with me and to retain and pay for my study as usual. in that event i should have a witness and the detection and punishment of the offenders would exonerate all those who in case of my removal would have part of the criminal credit of molesting the private residence of a professor and a scholar. 2d, the fear of personal injury from the hands of one, who for many years past has been known to be a man of peaceable and unexceptionable behavior and who never attacked or struck any man in his life, appears to have its origin in a consciousness of guilt and to be a virtual admission of it. do they perhaps think their conduct so outrageous, that the meekness of moses could no longer endure it without resentment? i grant that a passionate man would be likely to take a more substantial revenge. i myself however have no inclination to degrade myself in any such way.--my confinement is on a false pretense, and if any made affidavit to my insanity, they most assuredly must have perjured themselves. whatever i did, i have been provoked to do by what i deem a stupidity and _a flagrant invasion of the rights and privileges of an academic instructor, which no language can castigate with adequate severity_. i am most respectfully and truly your obedient servant. d. a. & co., new-york. g. j. a. vi. the law of intellectual freedom. "all property or rather all substantial determinations, which relate to my personal individuality and which enter into the general constitution of my self-consciousness, as for example, my personality proper, my freedom of volition in general, my morality, my religion are _inalienable_ and the right to them is _imprescriptible_." "that that which the mind is _per se_ and by its very definition should also become an actual existence and _pro se_, that consequently it should be a person, capable of holding property, possessed of morality and religion--all this is involved in the idea of the mind itself, which as the _causa sui_, in other words, as a free cause, is a substance, _cujus natura non potest concipi nisi existens_. (spinoza, eth. s. 1. def. 1.)." "this very notion, that it should be what it is _through itself alone_ and as the self-concentration or endless self-retrosusception out of its mere natural and immediate existence contains also the possibility of the opposition between what it is only _per se_ (i. e. substantially) and not _pro se_ (i. e. subjectively, in reality) and _vice versa_ between what is only _pro se_ and not also _per se_ (which in the will is the bad, the vicious);--and hence too the _possibility_ of the _alienation_ of one's personality and of one's substantial existence, whether this alienation be effected implicitly and unconsciously or explicitly and expressly. examples of the alienation of personality are slavery, vassalage, disability to hold property, the unfree possession of the same, &c., &c." "instances of the abalienation of intelligent rationality, of individual and social morality and of religion occur in the beliefs and practices of superstition, in ceding to another the power and the authority of making rules and prescriptions for my actions (as when one allows himself to be made a tool for criminal purposes), or of determining what i am to regard as the law and duty of conscience, religious truth, &c." "the right to such inalienable possessions is imprescriptible, _and the act by which i become seized of my personality and of my substantial being, by which i make myself an accountable, a moral and a religious agent, removes these determinations from the control of all merely external circumstances and relations, which alone could give them the capacity of becoming the property of another_. with this abnegation of the external, _all questions of time and all claims based upon previous consent or acquiescence fall to the ground_. this act of rational self-recovery, whereby i constitute myself an existing idea, a person of legal and moral responsibility, _subverts the previous relation and puts an end to the injustice which i myself and the other party have done to my comprehension and to my reason, by treating and suffering to be treated the endless existence of self-consciousness as an external and an alienable object_."[2] [2] i emphasize this important clause for the particular benefit of those who in my personal history have had the absurd expectation that i should continue to entertain a respectful deference to a certain phase of religionism, which upon a careful and rational examination i found to be worthless and which is repugnant to my taste and better judgment, and of others who with equal absurdity are in the habit of exacting ecclesiastical tests (i will not say religious, for such men show by their very conduct that their enlightenment in matters of the religion of the heart is very imperfect) for academic appointments;--as if the science and the culture of the nineteenth century were still to be the handmaid of the church, as they were in the middle age; _as if philosophy and the liberal arts could ever thrive and flourish in the suffocating atmosphere of the idols of the cave, the idols of the tribe, and the idols of the market-place!_ "this return to myself discloses also the contradiction (the absurdity) of my having ceded to another my legal responsibility, my morality and my religion at a time when i could not yet be said to possess them rationally, and which as soon as i become seized and possessed of them, can essentially be mine alone and can not be said to have any outward existence." "it follows from the very nature of the case, that the slave has an absolute right to make himself free; that if any one has hired himself for any crime, such as robbery, murder, &c. this contract is of itself null and void and that every one is at full liberty to break it." "the same may be said of _all religious submission to a priest, who sets up for my father confessor_ (_step-father_, &c.); for a matter of such purely internal interest must be settled by every man himself and alone. a religiosity, a part of which is deposited in the hands of another is tantamount to none at all; for the spirit is one, and it is he that is required to dwell in the heart of man; the union of the _per_ and _pro se_ must belong to every individual apart." transcriber's notes: passages in italics are indicated by _underscores_. passages in small caps are replaced by either title case or all caps, depending on how the words were used. punctuation was not corrected except for the quotation mark on page 20, and the parenthesis on page 30, as cited below. likewise, inconsistencies in hyphenation have not been corrected. each instance of the oe ligature was replaced with "oe". on page 6, "necessaay" was replaced with "necessary". on page 8, "of" was inserted between "city" and "new york". on page 10, "the" was inserted before "city of". on page 12, "catastrophies" was replaced with "catastrophes", and "pretentions" was replaced with "pretensions". on page 15, "the the" was replaced with "the". on page 16, "hemsy" was replaced with "hêmisy". on page 19, "destoyed" was replaced with "destroyed". on page 20, the quotation mark after "you are a dead man!" was moved to after "dead, dead, dead, dead!", and an extra quotation mark was deleted after "certain popular preacher." on page 24, "aad" was replaced with "and". on page 27, "af" was replaced with "of". on page 30, "all this in involved" was replaced with "all this is involved", and an open parentheses was placed before "i. e. subjectively,". ten years and ten months in lunatic asylums in different states. by moses swan, of hoosick falls, rensselaer county, n. y. hoosick falls: printed for the author. 1874. agents wanted _to canvass for this work. specimen sheets furnished and full information given on application._ [illustration] _sells rapidly. liberal inducements offered._ address moses swan, hoosick falls, n. y. transactions of a single day. but oh! tongue cannot tell or pen describe what i suffered at the hands of the cruel and inhuman male attendant and the equally cruel and barbarous female attendant, whose hearts were calloused and harder than the adamantine rock. but to my story. i was standing alone in the back hall, having just finished washing the breakfast dishes and sweeping the floor (work required of me), when the attendant came through the hall up to me with a pair of handcuffs, which i shall represent by a (see engraving). b represents the leather belt, with a large lock buckle attached to one end. c represents the second strap, same as b. d is the feet straps or bands to bind the feet. e is the muff or great confine for the hands. f is attached to b, d and d, when on a person. as i said, i was standing in the back hall when this male attendant came up to me and ordered me to put on the handcuffs a. i had done nothing to be punished for, and for the _first time_ refused to obey him, saying "i can't, i can't." he immediately struck me with the strap and lock buckle b, again and again, making marks upon my left shoulder which i shall carry to my grave; when at last tired of that, he drew his long arm, pounded me in the face until the blood, running down from my face, stood in pools on the floor. the female attendant, hearing the noise, rushed out of the cross hall with the muff, feet straps and strap c, heretofore spoken of. as she approached us i appealed to her, and kindly asked her to take him away. "oh, no!" she said, much to my dismay, "i have come to help him." the male attendant now stepped back a little with his fist drawn, ready at any moment to strike me again. the female attendant, a large, muscular woman, who could not have weighed less than two hundred pounds, stepped up and buckled the strap around me so tight that i could scarcely breathe, then stepping behind me took off my coat; she next took up my right foot and placed upon my ankle fetter d, after which she fastened another to my left ankle. (see engraving.) she then buckled strap f into b, which was around my body; she next took cuffs a and put them on my wrists; these have each a staple in one end and a button hole in the other sufficient to receive the staple. she next put on the great muff or hand confine e. it is made of heavy leather, and is some eighteen inches in length, and about fifteen inches in circumference; it opens on the front and at each end, and has a staple in the middle at one end, and a button hole on the other; also staples and button holes at both ends, as seen in the engraving. i did not resist, for i knew it would do no good, though i had been terribly beaten. she placed this last jacket upon me, drew all the straps tight, and i had on the whole of the accursed harness. immediately after this the female attendant proceeded to open the doors and lead the way down two flight of stairs to the bath room. the male attendant took me by the arm and hurried me along after her; there we were met by a patient by the name of e. scott. i was there ordered into a bath tub of cold water, compelled to sit down, compelled to lie down, bound as i was hand and foot, and chilled through and through; my feet were pressed hard against the foot of the bath tub and my shoulders against the raised bottom of the tub. the water not being of sufficient depth over the raised part of the bottom to cover my head or keep it under water, the attendant took an old tin wash dish, and dipping the water from between my legs poured the dirty water into my mouth and down my throat, keeping my mouth pried open all the while. i begged for my life; i cried for mercy; they would not desist, but again and again filled the dish and poured it down my throat. i was almost strangled, but not yet content, they both grabbed my legs and raised them from the bottom of the tub, thereby drawing my head and shoulders into the deeper water. then the attendant, by the aid of scott, held my head under water until i was almost strangled. whenever i was almost gone they would raise it a moment for me to revive, and then jam it down again under the water. oh, fiend! can you tell how one feels in the act of drowning, with no one near to pity. but he, who is everywhere present, beholding the evil and the good, delivered me out of their hands, blessed be his holy name forever and forever. amen. it was most unjust; if i was a lunatic it was unjust; if i was not, it was none the less so. strange, that in a free land, in a thickly settled and civilized community, such barbarous and inhuman acts are allowed by those in authority. if we can learn, experience and suffer so much in one short hour, what think you i learned, suffered and experienced in _ten long years_! moses swan. recommendation. _first baptist church of hoosick falls._ greeting--this certifies that brother moses swan is a member in our church in good and regular standing, and has been for forty years, and this is given him as a traveling letter. lewis crandell, _clerk_. hoosick, _september 30, 1873_. preface. i have been prompted by my friends and urged by a sense of duty to write the history of the _ten years_ i spent in _lunatic asylums_, and give it to the public. this i proposed to do as soon as i came out, but i dreaded to expose my family to the scorn and reproach that would be cast upon them by my telling the _whole truth_, and when i did conclude to give it to the public, my feeble health prevented me, for a long time, from doing any thing. i commenced during the last summer to write a full account of _all_ the _terrible acts_ that i experienced, saw and heard during those eventful years of sorrow and affliction, hoping that at some future day i might be able to give it to the public. n. b.--i have prefixed an original engraving to the title page of this little history, descriptive of an act that took place in one of the back halls of the marshall infirmary or lunatic asylum, ida hill, troy, n. y. _this certifies that i was a patient in the above-named institution from march 29, 1860, to october 13, 1870._ there are several reasons why the author offers to the reader and public in the present form, ten years, ten months and thirteen days of his life while he was unjustly held in lunatic asylums in different states; and there are many reasons that prompt him to write upon the _cruel_ treatment he received from beings with unfeeling hearts and cruel hands, and there are good reasons why he has cause to write upon the treatment of other poor creatures which came under his observation who were confined within those walls up to october 13, 1870. i herewith give to the public and reader a true statement of facts relative to some of my former life, and ten years, ten months and thirteen days while held in lunatic asylums by bars and bolts. early in the year of 1859, i found i had overdone and become unable to labor as heretofore. my nervous system had become unstrung; i became somewhat disheartened, and i grew weak in body. my spirits drooped, and i verily thought i should be lost eternally. i became melancholy; the sun, the moon and the stars lost their brilliancy to me, and the sweet music and singing of the birds had lost their charm to me as heretofore; all nature seemed dark and dreary, and, like job, i said "o, that i had not been." things that were appeared as though they were not, and things that were not as though they were. at length i closed my business matters as far as in me lay. during the spring and summer of 1859 i was under medical treatment up to august 29. all seemed unavailing. the 29th of august i was persuaded in part and compelled to go to brattleborough, vt., lunatic asylum to undergo a course of medical treatment. i was brought home by brother b. the last of november, nothing better; staid home through the winter with my little family. although i had staid four months in this so-called vermont cure-all institution, i still crossed the green mountain toward my longed-for home in low spirits and sadness. cheerfulness is natural to the strong and healthy, and despondency and gloom are usually the indirect consequences of some physical ailment. i have been troubled very much from my youth with the dyspepsia, nervousness, and bilious and other ailments. long before i went to brattleborough i was thought by dr. hall to have the consumption, who said my left lung was gone. doctors mistake, as well as ministers and people, and i am glad a mistake is not a sin, neither is insanity. mistakes sometimes arise from the want of knowledge or strength, sometimes from want of watchfulness and care. my great spiritual mistake was this (after having tried to serve the lord from my youth), i verily thought, these many years of sorrow, i should be finally lost. this mistake arose from over-taxing the body, which became weak, drawing the mind down. i believe the mind is the man; so as man thinketh so is he. if he thinks right, he will act right until the mind changes. we are not our own; we are all bought with a price. i can say there is one who sticketh closer than a brother; and, to-day, i can truly say, as did the psalmist, the _lord_ is my shepherd; i shall not want; he maketh me to lie down on green pastures; he restoreth my soul. i stated in the outset there were many reasons why i undertake this great work. my god first and then the people. _reason_ 1. because i owe a duty to him who rules and overrules all things. 2. because i feel it my bounden duty to let the public know that these institutions are robbing some men and women of their liberty, and even of their lives. 3. because the poor we have always with us, and when we will we may do them good. 4. i hope it may have a tendency to stimulate those who have authority, and the public, to examine these places more critically, that they may ameliorate, if possible, the condition of these unfortunate sufferers, by providing them with attendants or nurses with kind hands and charitable hearts. with a hopeful prayer that this little history may serve the cause of truth, by enlightening the minds of those who are inquiring after truth, it is dedicated to the candid public by the author. moses swan, hoosick falls, n. y. ten years and ten months in lunatic asylums in different states, by moses swan, with some remarks upon his life and parentage. chapter i. i, moses swan, was born in the town of hoosick, rensselaer county, new york, march the 4th, 1812. my father was a native of tyngsborough, berkshire county, massachusetts. my mother was born in greenfield, massachusetts, and there lived with her honored parents until my father who being a mechanic, at the age of one and twenty years old, bade his parents good-by and went out into the wide world, like other young men, to seek his fortune, and by the by, as i have often heard him say, he stopped at greenfield, and worked a few months in the fall, and then and there he became for the first time acquainted with abigail clark, who in the course of time became my mother. from greenfield, my father crossed the green mountain, with his pack upon his back, down into north adams, and whilst i am writing, methinks i see him trudging along with his yankee pack upon his back, from adams along to williamstown, and by the old brick college and on, and on he travels between the rugged rocks of pownal, and the little river that winds its way along down to old hoosick. here he finds himself at hoosick four corners, a pilgrim and a stranger in a strange land, doubtless tired, but yet he presses onward a little farther, to the west part of the town, to what is called the cross neighborhood, where he hired his board of captain ebenezer cross; here he set up business, for he was a cooper by trade and a practical farmer; here doubtless he labored with industry and economy, having an eye out for this greenfield abigail. and a kind providence smiled upon him, and he returned to greenfield, in search of abigail clark, and they were married. he was now in his twenty-fourth year. this year he was married to her, who then left her parents' house and came with my father to hoosick; here, by their industry and economy, they soon saved enough to purchase a small farm, about two miles and a half west of hoosick falls, where i was born. i was the third son and the fourth child, one of seven sons and a daughter, which my mother bore to my father. here upon the old south-western hill of hoosick, upon the self-same farm my parents lived and toiled together, until my father fell asleep. i well remember the 27th day of february, 1842, when i stood by my father's dying bedside and smoothed his dying pillow and wiped the cold sweat from his brow, yes, i remember very well of closing his eyes in death. i do not, i can't, i must not wish him back to this lower world of sin and sorrow, of toil and woe, though there be joys in christ for his children, who walk not according to the course of this world. while i am writing the foremost part of my little narrative, it will be remembered, that i am speaking of things far back in the distance, when things of a temporal kind were far inferior to what they now are. fifty years has made great changes and improvements in arts and sciences in this country; true it is of americans as the scripture says, "ye have sought out many inventions." and while writing, my mind is carried back to my boyhood, some fifty years ago, when i, for the first time, took my father's oxen and went to the field to plow, with one of the best of pardon cole's plows. were i to describe this wonderful plow, and we had its picture, we should judge it more appropriate for a comic almanac than for an agricultural show case. it truly was a huge looking thing, the beam or neap as the yankee would call it, was made of wood, and the land-side was wood and the mould-board was wood, and then we had a little wooden paddle to paddle off the dirt off the wooden mould-board at every corner when necessary; and now for the point, it was forged out by a common country blacksmith, one would suppose at the present day it was more fit to iron off a hog's nose than to be used for a plow-share, in short, it was what the yankees call a hog plow. let us compare this with the plows now in use and be thankful for what we have. well may it be said by the inspired writer, "ye have sought out many inventions." we might take most of the minor implements of the farmer, and speak at length of the glorious improvements in farming utensils for the last fifty years. but we will speak of but one more of this class, and that is, the wonderful buggy or mowing machine, sweeping through our meadows, drawn by horses where fathers and sons, fifty years ago, sweat with an iron hook in hand to mow down their fields. what an onward march is our world making in the things that are seen which are but temporal that must decay with their usage. once more, i well remember when i was some ten or eleven years of age, my parents promised me a visit to troy for the first time, and i, like most of other country boys, thought much of going to see the great place; the buildings were so thick i could not see the city, as the saying is. at the time, i had no shoes, and they were difficult to get at that time, for i had first to get the shoemaker's promise and then wait for the fulfillment. i got the promise, and the shoes were to be done the day previous to my going to troy. i went for the shoes at the appointed time, and behold, i had the shoemaker's promise, for they were not done. and this makes me think of an anecdote which took place between a shoemaker and his wife, the wife says, "what made you promise the lad when you knew you could not fulfill," the husband replies, "it is a poor man that cannot make a promise:" there i was disappointed. again we might speak of the many mechanical improvements, such as the housewife's sewing machine, the telegraph, the steam powers and the railways, and many other things of note that we have seen at our town, county and state fairs. but lest i digress too far from the great object i have set forth and have still in view, i will hasten to it. i feel incompetent for the great work i have undertaken. it always was hard work for me to write out my thoughts or speak before my superiors, and many there are whom i esteem better than myself, yet, however good my neighbors may be, they cannot do my duty nor stand in the judgment for me. i remember of asking my dear mother, many years ago, how old i was when she took me by the hand and walked along by the side of the wall, and from thence to the old log-house, where lay a young lady asleep in death. mother informed me that i was then three and a half years old. i speak of this because it was the first person that i saw a corpse, and to show that early impressions upon the tender mind are hard to be eradicated. i have just been speaking of things that transpired in 1816, and, as it is true that one thing leads to another, my mind is called to think of my beloved parents, and the early trainings they gave their children; the beloved words of our saviour is, "train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it." at this early day of my life neither of my parents were joined to the saviour by a public profession; they were eastern people brought up strictly under the presbyterian order. i am very thankful they taught their children to strictly keep the sabbath and read the holy scriptures, for they are the power of god unto salvation to every one that believeth, to the jew first, and also to the gentiles, and the saviour said, "they are they which testify of me." old as i am, never have i heard one of my father's family use a word of profane language, so far as i know, not one intemperate drinker. but we are not a family without faults. in early life i became sensible that i was a sinner; when but ten or twelve years of age the spirit of the lord strove very powerfully with me, and from time to time i grieved its gentle influences from my heart, saying, like felix, "go thy way for this time," promising, that when i had a more convenient season i would seek the salvation of my soul. i often felt sorry that i was not a christian, and many a time the tears would trickle down my cheeks in penitence when but a child. at this early period of my life, country children did not have the advantages they now have, and it was so even with children living in villages. i was a farmer's son, and i now well remember the shoemaker that came from the east, and whipped the cat, as he called it, then i got my year's stock of shoes, consisting of one pair; if these did not last me till the cat-whipper came around again, i had to go barefoot till he came again, or get the promise for another pair of some other shoemaker, and that was about the same as going barefoot. i well remember this day, in the days of my youth, many a time washing my feet in the cold months of autumn, and my mother oiling them with sweet cream, and putting me to bed. many a time have i went to the old district school-house to hear rev. aaron haynes preach, when a boy, and that too barefoot. i also remember of once hearing an old rev. bennet, who came from pownal to our school-house, and preached; the text i do not remember. the prayer he made i cannot reiterate. but i very well remember an anecdote he told, concerning himself, when he was a young man (and methinks he was a little hypocritical at the time). be that as it may, it appears it was in a time of some excitement, and he said he was away from home on a visit among some of his friends; sitting one evening with his friends, it being nearly time to retire to rest, he says to his friends, "shall we have a word of prayer before we retire?" "if you please," was the response. and now for the prayer. it was a premeditated prayer, as he said, and he was not a christian at this time; the prayer he had framed up by his own wisdom and strength, he thought very appropriate and very nice for the occasion; then said he, "i bowed upon my knees to reiterate this nice prayer, and for my life," said he, "i could not recall a single word of it to my mind. i was upon my knees, ashamed, and could not pray my nice prayer. i quickly arose from my knees and ran for bed, leaving my friends to say their own prayers, covering up my head in bed, with shame, to rest for the night." i would here remark, if any there be who are now feeling they need to pray, come to jesus and ask him to give you that faith which works by love and purifies the heart, and he will teach you to pray in spirit and in truth, and you will not be ashamed nor confounded. here one passage of scripture comes to my mind, and it is this: "man know thyself." men are very apt to know their neighbors better in their own estimation than they know themselves. first pull the beam out of thine eye. self-examination and the study of human nature is a great work, i think, if i have the right estimate upon them, having studied myself and others, having the scriptures in my mind more than forty long years, as the scale whereby to discern between right and wrong, truth and error; yet, if the truths of the scriptures are not sent home upon the heart by the divine spirit, they will be like the moon-light upon the cold snow. i feel thankful to-day that my mother, though long dead, taught me in early life to read the scriptures, for they are the power of god unto salvation to every one that believeth. not only good fathers and mothers teach their children to read the word of god, but our divine redeemer says, "search the scriptures, for in them ye think ye have eternal life, and they are they which testify of me." chapter ii. this chapter is dedicated to the most essential things of my life, from my boyhood up to my twenty-first birth-day, march 4, 1833. sabbath morning, may, i feel thankful that i was not left without parents in my childhood like many little children; i also feel grateful that i had a pious mother, a kind and an affectionate father, to advise and instruct me in the ways of truth and righteousness; i am happy to-day because i listened to the sweet counsel of my mother and obeyed the laws of the united head of the god-like pair who have crossed over the river of death. while i am writing, my mind is carried back to my boyhood and my school days, and child-like plays of innocence, when all seemed like a little paradise below; it gladdens my heart to review those pleasant days of my childhood and call to memory many of my associates, and the little plays and prattles we had together in our innocent days. but a long time has intervened between those happy and youthful days, and many joys, many sorrows and afflictions, trials, sufferings and disappointments, and even death, has been the lot of many of the little paradise family. yet there are some who have arrived to man and womanhood, became pious fathers and mothers, and even grandparents, and are now occupying high and important places in the church of christ and community; these have come up through much tribulation, as says the inspired writer. in early life my mother taught me to say, "our father which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done in earth as it is in heaven." and when i came to riper years she taught me to read the holy scriptures, and they were they that were the power of god to my salvation, for in early life they were treasured up in my heart; my mother often encouraged me to read the bible, and particularly on the sabbath; when i was quite a small boy, she told me if i would read the bible through by course she would give me a new one. i consequently commenced with all the eagerness of a saint and continued until i had accomplished the great work, though but a child when i commenced, early impressions made upon the tender mind while it is not clogged with the cares of the world are not easily erased from the mind. although i was once an innocent child and sat in my mother's lap, and clung to her breast, being encircled in her arms for protection and safety, and had not sinned after the similitude of adam's transgression and had been dandled in the lap of paradise, yet i was born under the law and in sin did my mother conceive me. i feel to bless the lord my god and redeemer to-day that my parents taught me in early life to read the scriptures, and in them i found this passage, "as in adam all die, so in christ shall all be made alive." if we are made alive to christ, then we become heirs of god and joint heirs with jesus christ to an inheritance that is incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away, reserved in heaven for us. who will not sell all for such an inheritance. oh, young man, young lady! i ask you in the name of my master, sell all that you have and buy the truth, the pearl of great price, and sell it not. in early life the spirit of the lord strove with me, when but a child the tears of penitence would steal down my cheek in my wakeful moments, and i can say as did paul, "i was _alive_ once without the law, but when the _commandments_ came, sin revived, and _i died_." let us ask the apostle paul what he means by _life_, by the _commandments_, by _death_. paul, do you mean by this death, you was unconscious? oh! now, friends; previous to this death i was persecuting the church under a mistaken notion, and had a conscience void of offense toward god and man. then you mean, paul, by this death, you was unhappy, and your unhappiness was brought about by the coming of the commandments, and by their being set home upon your heart with reviving energy by the holy spirit? again, paul, what do you mean by being alive once without the law? i mean i was without the word of christ that speaketh better things than that of abel. i was living under the jewish dispensation, brought up at the feet of gamaliel, and acting under a mistaken faith. i verily thought i was doing god service when i was persecuting the church. (paul was mistaken.) as my father was a mechanic in early life my mind ran in that direction, and as i was a boy of rather feeble constitution, my parents allowed me many hours to myself. i was a sort of errand-boy and kitchen helper to my mother, as she had seven sons and but one daughter. i acquired a knowledge of my father's trade by working in the shop from time to time, but this did not seem to satisfy my mechanical genius, my mind rather ran to machinery. i made my father's grain cradles and horse rakes before the revolving rake was in use in this country. at one time i made a little trundle-head apple paring machine, and i have often heard remarked, one thing leads to another, and necessity is the mother of invention. as i was the errand-boy i often had to go to the neighbors to borrow fire, as there were no matches in those days. this led me to make a machine of this kind, to produce fire. i cut out a wher from a piece of steel, placed it upon an arbour, gave it a double geer to give it speed, held a flint against it. i then had that which i borrowed and never returned. (fire.) parents often mistake in pointing out the line of business for their children in regard to placing them to trades or professions. it is my opinion, had my father chosen for me the machinists' art, i should not have been a jack of all trades, and workman at none, as the saying is, although i have often regretted that my parents did not give me greater opportunity to improve in the arts and sciences, i have no cause to mourn that they did not train me up in the way a young man should go; for in early life they pointed me to the lamb of god who taketh away the sins of the world; and this they did by precepts and by their example. dear friends, if i have failed somewhat in literature, and in the arts and sciences, for want of opportunity, i shall not have it to say on the day of judgment, on the great day of accounts, that i had no opportunity to make my calling and election sure, no! no! no! he that believeth, and is baptized, shall be saved; but he that believeth not, shall be damned. this is the first doctrine our emmanuel god taught the eleven after his resurrection. there is no ifs nor ands about this doctrine. there is a thus saith the lord for it; and this i believed in my youthful days; although, when moved by the holy spirit, i often said: i am young, time enough yet; and when i think how many there are called away by death under the age of eighteen years, i feel thankful that god spared me till my nineteenth, september, 1831. since i began to write my little history, i have been advised to give it up, by old and young. one young man advised me so to do, that did not know that the lord's prayer was in the new testament; and like many others could not say it correctly. now i do not neglect my duty, as i am traveling through this, to another world, stopping to listen to every dog, and beat off every one that barks at me. enough has been said in the fore part of this little history to prepare every truthful mind to listen with some interest to the religious experience of the author. august 29, 1831. previous to this date the good lord and saviour having often called me by the gentle influences of his gracious spirit, now, upon this 29th day of august, 1831, gave me faith sufficient to encourage me to ask him to be my friend and pardon and forgive my sins. faith is the gift of god, and without it no man can please the lord. faith is brought about to sinful men oftentimes by the moving of the holy spirit which guides into all truth. whether the faith here given me would be considered by the christian world a living faith, the faith that works by love and purifies the heart, it was the turning point to better days. many days previous to the day herein alluded to my mind had been wrought up to the subject of religion and the necessity of an interest in christ; my mind was saddened, my joys had fled and my soul was stirred within me, and i exclaimed, "oh, wretched man that i am, who shall deliver me from the body of this death?" then i cried unto the lord and he heard me. "when thou prayest," is the instruction of our saviour, "enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut thy door [the heart, the mind, the soul, against all but jesus] pray to thy father which seeth in secret, and thy father which seeth in secret shall reward thee openly." there is power in prayer. not only is there power in prayer with a wrestling jacob and a prevailing israel, but our divine redeemer manifested his willingness to save the chief of sinners, by answering the prayer of the penitent thief on the cross, by saying "this day thou shalt be with me in paradise." i did not feel that i had been a thief or a robber, but i felt i was a sinner lost forever without the pardoning grace of god. "ask and ye shall receive, seek and ye shall find," is the encouragement given to every inquiring sinner by the divine redeemer. i felt at this time the necessity of prayer, and that of earnest, humble, contrite prayer. i had been taught to say "our father," but now, for the first time, on the 29th of august, 1831, i retired in secret to pray under the direction of that spirit that guides into all truth. having thus entered the closet i asked the lord to have mercy on me a sinner. this was in the evening of the 29th; i arose from my knees, but oh, the darkness that gathered over my mind; i went to my bed but sleep had departed from me; i often knelt in earnest prayer, day after day i continued knocking at mercy's door, and praying for mercy to him who is the sinner's friend. one evening i went to the kitchen, when under this tried state, and stood by the south window, in sadness. my mother approached me, raised my hat, and kindly says, "moses, what is the matter, have you the cholic?" (knowing i was subject to it) "no, mam," said i, turning and looking out of the window and across the valley. i saw a light (but it was from a neighboring window) and oh how brightly it shone, for it was a dark night and had been for many days to my soul, all my troubles subsided and i retired to rest, unconscious for the night, that it was the lord's work. in the morning i arose, entered my closet, but my prayers were turned to thankful praise to him who had heard my prayers and i trust took my feet from the horrible pit and miry clay; he put a new song into my mouth, even praise to his name. and i could then say "whereas i was once blind now i see, the things i once loved, i now hate, and the things i once hated i now love; behold, all things have become new." the first opportunity presented itself in a religious meeting. i arose and said in so many words, draw near all ye that love the lord and i will tell you what the lord has done for my soul. from this glad hour i continued to entreat and exhort men to be reconciled to god and become the followers of the saviour, and i rejoiced in god, the rock of my salvation; soon after my happy concession i related the dealings of god with my soul, and was received as a subject of christian baptism, and the 18th day of september, 1831, i was baptised by rev. i. keach in the old hoosick river, a few rods above the bridge and falls; two young ladies, by name m. and e. pierce, were immersed at the same time. i believe the wicked may forsake their ways through faith in christ and return unto the lord who will have mercy upon them, and to our god and he will abundantly pardon. i believe it is impossible for an impenitent person to be happy while persisting in sin. i believe the finally impenitent will be turned into hell with all the nations that forget god. the day i was baptized i marched from the water's brink to the old church, erected 1800, received the right hand of church fellowship and it has never been withdrawn from me. from this day i went on my way rejoicing, often exhorting, entreating and trying to persuade my young associates to be reconciled to the saviour. still living with my parents, working on the farm during the summer season and with my father in the shop in the fall, all went on pleasantly; thus i lived at home till i arrived at the age of one and twenty years of age, then i bade my parents, brothers and sister, good morning, and left my little paradise home, and went out into the wide and unfeeling world to gain my bread by the sweat of my brow, and to withstand all the temptations of the devil, and the scoffs and sneers of a wicked and gainsaying world. chapter iii. at the age of twenty-one i went to an adjoining town and (worked for j. bracket, at my trade, making barrels at thirty-six cents each, two was allowed to be a day's work, i often made three; paid one dollar and twenty-five cents per week for board), here i lived and toiled nearly three years; when in my twenty-fourth year, i was married to mary ann slade of hoosick, and finding her just with the key of my safe, i did her intrust. my wife, soon after we were married, joined the church, and in the spring we set up housekeeping in my father's house, and i worked for him at my trade that year, in the spring of 1837, my father gave up the coopering business for a time and i set up the trade for myself in the town of pittstown. (this year i made 1000 flour barrels, sold them to van alstyne & co., at melville.) in the spring of 1838, moved to hoosick near potterhill, bought me a team, employed hands and carried on my business more extensively; by our industry, economy within doors and out, we added a little to our temporal wealth. still holding our place in the church and attending to the ordinances of the lord's house, nothing seemed to mar our peace and future prospects. whilst we were living at this place our pastor visited one day and introduced to me the subject of preaching, and said he thought it was my duty to preach, i told him i had never made up my mind to that effect, but he insisted upon it, saying he would give out an appointment next wednesday evening at brother heart philipses (convert a man against his will, he is the same unbeliever still), i consequently met the appointment, but it was not a self-will duty under the guidance of the holy spirit, and i knew but little better what to do than a thief would in an apothecary shop, i could pray and exhort; i think if i have any spiritual gift it is exhortation and prayer. a few weeks elapsed and i learned the church had granted me license voluntarily without my request or knowledge. now, i felt under obligations to do something, to go forward was a great work, to disobey the man-made call seemed then almost like denying my lord, and thus i labored on; sometimes it seemed i pleased the lord, sometimes men, and sometimes the devil. i was also advised by the preacher to suspend my little flourishing trade and go to study which i did, spending some hundred dollars for learning, which was almost impossible for a man of my constitution to obtain, having used all the money i had in my own hands--i could not get what i had loaned (for it was finally lost), i gave up my study and again went to work to support myself and family. shortly after this my father died, leaving me more cares and difficulties to overcome. afflictions, though they seem severe, often work out a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. i felt keenly the loss of my kind father and more than ever i now appreciated the good advice and the beneficial lessons he taught me in his life-time, for they restrained me from outbreaking sins and have led me to seek an interest in christ which now gave me consolation in this hour of trial and affliction. after the death of my father our family were scattered far and wide, one brother in california, two brothers and a sister in the far west, one gone to his long home to meet our dear parents, while the remaining two and myself are living in our native town. after the death of my father, which took place in february, 1842, and 27th day, i occupied one of my father's farms, until it was sold. while living upon this farm, in 1843, our only daughter and child was born, and soon after i graduated from my high asylum-school and came home, she was married to mr. j. h. tucker, and is now living in the pleasant little village of hoosick falls. i am now living within the sound of the church-going bell in the above-named village, and i can truly say since i have been restored to my family and friends and society, i feel like a bird escaped from the fowler's snare, and i can truly say i have enjoyed life better since my return than in my youthful days. little do men know how to appreciate the blessings a bountiful creator bestows upon them until they are deprived of them. by this time the reader is aware that i have written to a considerable length upon my former life, bringing to mind many important things that may be of use to the young and rising generation, if reduced to practice, especially the one thing needful that mary chose, which shall never be taken from her. may every one that have not as yet chosen christ and the good part, make up their minds without delay; and may those who have faith that works by love and purifies the heart, continue steadfast unto the end, that they may receive a crown of life and enter into the city through the pearly gates and bask in the sunshine and behold the saviour's face forever is the prayer of the author. chapter iv. troy marshall infirmary and lunatic asylum, ida hill, under the direction of a board of governors. this institution was chartered by the legislature of the state of new york. john c. heartt, president; j. w. downings, 1st vice-president; thos. coleman, 2d vice-president; r. h. ward, m. d., secretary; george a. stone, treasurer. _governors._--hon. william kemp, mayor. jonas c. heartt, john p. albertson, john l. thompson, alfred watkins, m. d., j. w. freman, john hitchins, j. w. downings, s. m. vail, lyman bennett, j. hobart warren, thomas coleman, alfonso bills, hanford n. lockwood, george h. phillips, john sherry, james thorn, m. d., j. c. osgood, m. d., henry b. whiton, charles eddy, r. h. ward, m. d., c. w. tillinghast, e. thompson gale, george a. stone, c. l. hubbell, m. d. _inspectors._--calvin haynes, t. w. lockwood, h. warren. _committee of managers._--alfonso bills, j. w. downing, george h. phillips, john sherry, thomas coleman. _consulting physicians._--dr. alfred watkins and dr. james thorn. _attending physicians, etc._--drs. henry b. whiton, r. h. ward, c. l. hubbell, g. h. hubbard. _attending physician and surgeon._--joseph d. lomax, resident medical superintendent; e. j. fisk, m. d., medical assistant. john harrison, steward; mrs. harrison, matron. * * * * * _this is one of the popular institutions of the day. read and shed a sympathizing tear._ * * * * * this certifies that i, moses swan, of the town of hoosick and county of rensselaer and state of new york, was confined by bars and bolts, in the above-named institution, from march 29, 1860, to october 13, 1871. * * * * * if i am rightly informed, this institution was chartered by the legislature of the state of new york for the benefit of unfortunate persons who are actual lunatics, not for a penitentiary or prison-house. if i am rightly informed by judge r., the law to get a person into this institution lawfully, against his or her will, two physicians must examine the patient, and make oath that a. or b. is a lunatic or an insane person. secondly, these affidavits must be presented to the county judge, and he issues an order to take mrs. a. or mrs. b. to the asylum. amid all the opposition used to hinder me from this heart-burdened work, i have firmly resolved, by the grace of him who delivered me from this inhumanly governed institution, to set forth and carry through the press, to the community at large, some of the most prominent transactions that came under my observation. so help me * * * * my capture and ride to the asylum. early in the morning of march 29, 1860, a posse of strong men surrounded my house, rushed into the hallway, and one into my room of sickness, sorrow and gloom, made no complaint of lawful authority, and ordered me to arise, saying he was going to send me to the marshall asylum by post-coach. said i, "you had better send me in a box," choosing death rather than go, having been to brattleborough asylum four months previous. no alternative, up drove the post-coach, in came the long-arm driver, f. tarbal, who captured me and hurled me out of door and into the coach, while daughter clung to me in tears. he seated me by the side of wm. kelly, a state prison culprit, who took me by the arm. extricating myself from him, said i, "you had better go back where you came from." r. manchester remarked at the time, he don't like silkworth's man. no one can imagine the sorrow and anguish that filled my aching heart at this critical moment--one snatched from the bosom of the wife of his early choice, and from the embrace of an affectionate and lovely daughter; and, yea, more than that, i was numbered with transgressors. and now for the unhappy ride. snap went the whip, round went the wheels; and never was man so sad, for i can truly say, no person from this time saw me smile for ten long years. we rode down the hill a few rods and added an extra horse, making a spike team; then drove to a mr. messers, took his wife and little burnt child aboard; drove next to h. wardsworth's; here i tried to elope, but vandenburg crowded me back. the die was cast. on and on we went; halted at pittstown four corners; next, raymertown; here we left the poor pole horse. "how many oats," says the hostler. "four quarts," says tarbal. mail changed now for haynerville, post-office in shoemaker's shop; next we halted at brunswick center to change mail; and next we halted in troy, at the northern hotel, for dinner; but, mind you, i got none; no, not so much as the law allows a prisoner; not so much as a cup of cold water. i very well remember what tarbal said when we started from the northern hotel and the reply i made him. "come, swan," says he, "let's go home." said i, "i have no home," and followed him to the coach, when he immediately started off down street, made a halt at judge robertson's office. says tarbal to me, "get out and stay here in the post-office until i go down to the boat and get a box for mrs. brown." i was told, when a boy, the moon was made of green cheese, but i did not believe it, neither did i believe at the time that judge robertson's office was the post-office, although he is now postmaster, in 1874. here h. rowland talked with the judge about receiving me into the asylum, passing papers to the judge and the judge to a boy to go and have recorded. presently came tarbal and ordered me into the coach, when n. harwood, rowland and myself were aboard, up ida hill and over across the stone bridge, we turned to the right and then drove to the asylum, which is situated between the albia and the hollow road. making a halt at the office door we were met by drs. gregory and mclean. i was ordered to dismount. i soon found myself sitting in the doctor's office in the marshall lunatic asylum. "now," says rowland, "you'll show us around." "yes," was the response from the doctor. after the post-coach and the pittstown band left i was soon ushered into the back hall with many brute, beast-like creatures, to share the fate of poor tray caught in bad company. as i entered this hall the first i noticed was john p. bacon, handcuffed and bound to a stationary chair, on one side of the hall, and on the other, patrick mely, in the same way. there were others that i noticed at the time; john beldon, charles barclay. i mention these men to show, by circumstantial evidence, that i was sensible at the time i entered this institution. (i conversed with john p. bacon the 15th of april, 1874, he was in the upper or incurable house, doing drudgery under attendant william anderson.) soon after i was seated in this hall a man approached me, by the name of smith, whose curly locks hung down his shoulders most beautifully. he said, "i will take your coat and hat." soon after supper was announced, then i found j. smith was the attendant on that hall. although i had had no dinner i could not relish supper in a prison, for a prison i found it to be. bedtime came and i was locked up in a cell three doors from the dead-house, on the left, or east, side of the south hall, the window was darkened by a heavy shutter and the door heavily lined on the inside; here i lay, upon a couch of straw or mattrass, many sleepless nights, listening to the screeches and yells of the inmates; permitted to walk out upon the hall through the daytime with some of the patients whose names i shall now record: some of the main house patients and attendants. march 29th, 1860, to july 3d, 1862: _patients._--john p. bacon, patrick mely, john newbanks, john beldon, william b. gibbs, sidney betts, john smawly, capt. lord, mr. o'donnel (destroyed bible), ebenezer scott, patrick fitzgerald, mr. babcock (has lame foot), james bolin, william lewis, alfred (the painter). william anderson (helper), isabella anderson, helper (hanged herself march 16th, 1873). from march 29th, 1860, to july 3d, 1862, then i was removed to the incurable house: _attendants._--john smith, mr. burr, geo. harrison, charles harrison, one, name unknown, mr. adkins (lunatic barber from brattleborough asylum), drs. mclean and gregory; john harrison, steward, mrs harrison, matron. i am now writing a book for sane minds to read and peruse; and whether you judge the author sane or insane, he prays you may sympathize with the poor unfortunate beings herein mentioned who are still living. some have gone to their long homes; and it is through the mercy of god that i am spared to make manifest things that i have seen and heard in this institution, and labor for the good of the poor. "in a large house are many masters," so says the bible. at the present day lunatic asylums have become very popular; and it is granted by many that this ida hill institution is well cared for, having twenty-six governors, and half as many doctors, to overlook, and a committee to inspect, and supervisors to visit. all this may be true. but where are these duty-bound men? one in the national bank; another in the mayor's office; another in his flour store; another galloping through the city to attend to his own medical practice. all these are troubled about many things--the supervisors have their home cares also. these are governors without. who governs the inmates? but, says one, who governed these patients you have named within? this i can answer readily, though i had to learn it. brattleborough and the marshall institutions were high schools to teach human nature to me. i was on one of the halls of the brattleborough asylum with thirty-seven patients, where blood was often shed; upon this hall was a patient by the name of adkins, here i thought my attendants were lunatics, did not certainly know. but soon after i got into the marshall institution, this same patient, adkins, became attendant over me, i shall call him the brattleborough lunatic barber, for he often ordered me into the shaving room and shaved me, and my lord i was afraid to be shaved by a lunatic barber in a room alone, no alternative, be shaved i must. and when i was taken to the incurable house, alfred and thomas haly, formerly patients, whom i shall speak of in future pages, became my attendants. these men had been self-abused; alfred was a drunkard; the others were something else--they also knew how to abuse others; give such low, degraded men the keys, and a little authority, and their word is law, and they are lord of all. such men govern within. after suffering more than ten years in this institution, i graduated on the 13th day of october, 1870. if any one thinks that i have not got my diploma, please look at the accursed harness in the engraving that i bought in 1873 of mr. hogan of river street, troy, similar to the accursed ones used in the marshall crazy house, to bind poor unfortunate men and women with, and then torture and strangle them. i have read of our saviour casting out devils in kindness, and i have read of the devil being bound in everlasting chains, but it never came into my mind that such barbarous acts were practiced in these institutions, until i saw them with my own eyes and experienced to my sorrow. i am governor of my own house, but if i do not rule it well, i shall be awfully accountable on the day of judgment. and i fear those twenty-six governors, doctors and inspectors, and all who have any thing to do in holding men and women in slavery in this institution will have a dread account to give at the judgment day. march 29, 1860. after i had lodged in this dead-house hell many lonely nights, i made up my mind that i was considered a bad man by all who knew me, yet i was childlike and innocent. i had more than uncommon watch-care, for i greatly feared to do any thing wrong. here i used much discretion and caution, shunning the paths of the inmates, for many of them were as ferocious as lions. at length i was removed from this cell to an opposite room on the same hall, and patrick fitzgerald was locked up in it, after which a john beldon, a man who, it was said, killed his daughter in a passion. by this time i had learned this cell was used for wicked men, and i was numbered with transgressors in the asylum as well as in the post-coach at my door, when we first started. this, in addition to my own spiritual trouble, added greatly to my sorrows and tears. i was obliged to stay upon this hall with these lion-like men through the day-time, though in fear of my dear life. i was the whole time quiet and peaceable, although i groaned under my burden with groans that could not be uttered. since i left the asylum i have often visited it, not because i felt it a sort of a home, neither because i was cured, by a course of medical treatment (for i had no medicine administered to me the first four years). i visited, not because i had any antipathy against the governors of this institution, doctors or inspectors. but i visited out of pure motive, for often the words of the saviour came to mind, "the poor ye have always with you, and when you will you may do them good." on one of my visits to the asylum, i remarked to dr. lomax, "you have got a nice theater, now," said i, "you need one more house, separate from noise, to keep the quiet patients in." although my advice may not be heeded, i suffered much for want of sleep by being disturbed by noisy inmates. i remained upon this dead-house hall most of the time till the war broke out, about that time i was removed to a small hall near the dining-room. i have said but little about the transactions i saw in that dead-house hall; many that pained my heart. among the many was one most trying to see, a person walk up and down the hall like a roaring lion, and leaf after leaf torn from the bible, and destroy it by chewing with his teeth. this bible lay upon a stand at one end of the hall. here was a mixed multitude of many nations, of high and low degree, of different faith and different belief, some mild and gentle, whilst others were lion-like and ferocious as tigers; here the quiet ones had to share the abuses of the ruffians, and the ruffians had to share the abuses of the attendants. i have seen patients that were bound with handcuffs upon this dead-house hall, taken by the throat by attendants, and their breath shut off. i have seen patients called by attendants to their assistance, who would thrash other patients to the floor most cruelly. these transactions, with many others, led me to remark to doctor lomax the necessity of having a house of quietude for quiet patients. had my father, when farming, put all his stock into one fold, such as the horses, the oxen, the swine, the lambs, and all the fowl kind, would not the strong and ferocious trample down and kill the weak and the innocent, as is done in these popular institutions at the present day? i am not recording such barbarous transactions to gratify a disordered mind, but to wake up sensibility and activity in sane minds to the subject of suffering humanity. neither am i setting forth the inward workings of this institution that it may be disannulled by the authority that chartered it, for the purpose of keeping the unfortunate and poor. i am aware that there are many innocent ones who are suffering in these institutions who are proper subjects for a prayer-meeting and not for a penitentiary. there are many received into these lunatic asylums that are more fit for state prison or penitentiaries than places like these, and these are they that cause so much bloodshed, as did haly and mrs. anderson, in my case, being appointed attendants by the government of the asylum. i have stated that about the time the civil war broke out i was placed upon a hall near the dining-room, the patients in this hall were more quiet at times. in the room that i occupied were three single beds, one was occupied by charles barclay a part of the time, at other times while i remained these were occupied by transient comers. at one time there was a patient came into this room bound with belt and handcuffs, locked up with me for a room companion. now i was in a perilous situation, for he was a strong, muscular man, apparently unable to control his thoughts and acts. many nights he would ramble about the room, climbing from bed to bed, and from window to window, while i lay mute in fear; he descended from his ramble to the floor, raised my bed from its foundation, and threw me prostrate on the floor. mr. burr, the attendant, hearing the noise, unlocked the door and hurled him out. how many times i have thought of sweet home and friends once so dear, when locked up in these rooms with these brute-like men. and many has been the time when i have knelt upon my knees in silent prayer in this poorly governed institution and implored mercy and deliverance, and thanks be to him who hears prayers, he delivered me and gave me peace, and brought me on my way home rejoicing. my wife's first visit to the asylum. we met for the first time in prison, as a husband and wife in friendship and love. but my troubles were so great that my love for wife or our cousin who came with her was barely manifest, here i had to learn for the first time how a husband's heart could bleed when visited by a wife, under such adverse circumstances; our first visit was short and i cannot say it was sweet to me, for i dreaded the parting time. behold, it soon came. i followed her to the door, and took the parting hand, turning around, being overcome, i fell prostrate to the floor. mrs. swan remembers this to-day as we talk over our joys and sorrows around our own happy fireside. and i very well remember the question my careworn wife asked the attendant, mr. burr. "what," said she, "is the matter with him?" said the attendant, "he is overcome"--no marvel to me that i was. a word to husbands and wives. few there be, if any, outside of these walls that know the feelings of a husband or a wife, when visited by their friends in these places. i have seen husbands and wives, fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters, take the parting hand in these institutions and some never to meet again below the sun. i have seen young and old die in these places and no friend to smooth their dying pillow or wipe the cold sweat from their brow, or catch their dying words. o, fathers! o, mothers! keep your unfortunate sons and daughters from these places until a reform is brought about. you know but little how patients are treated by attendants and others. i have seen gentlemen and ladies visit this main house and walk through the hall adjoining the dining room, and remark how nice it looked, and so it did, but can such a one imagine how he or she would feel locked up in one of those side rooms as i was with a raving maniac? how mistaken are many who visit this place. once there was a smart appearing genteel looking man walking through this hall who remarked (looking into a side room), "if i was sick i should rather be here than home." thought i, poor deluded man you know but little about this place. in that same room i had lodged, upon the bed was a nice white spread, under the spread, to all appearance, a soft bed, but it was not so, deluded visitor. would you like to be in that room to-day and be treated as one poor man was in the hands of two doctors and their attendant? one says, put the rope here, tie it up there, and a long struggle ensues between the parties, at length he gives a long moan, saying, "i shall have to give up." this patient once had a kind mother and an affectionate father, but where is he now? go visitor, to lunatic asylums as visitor, but until you go as a patient you will know but little about the secret workings of these institutions. fathers and mothers, friends and neighbors, send your sick and unfortunate ones to these places, and you little know how they are treated and dealt with. i have learned to my sorrow how patients are treated, and i would say to one and all, know you are right before you transport any to an earthly hell. since i left the ida hill asylum, in 1871, i have often visited it, going through from center to circumference, being permitted so to do by dr. lomax, who was the resident medical superintendent, and is up to this time, 1874. dr. lomax is the only physician that i formed an intimate acquaintance with while a patient in this institution, and this acquaintance was first formed in the incurable house, and to do dr. l. justice, in my opinion he is a gentleman. i found, in 1871, that he could not only reason, but that he was willing to hear others. after i had thoroughly weighed him in my own mind, i resolved to improve every opportunity of reasoning with him i had, for with him, i had learned, depended my permit to go _home_, and that i very well knew would not be until he thought me sane in body and mind. i often heard patients ask attendants if they could go home, "ask the doctor," was the get-off. a few of my interviews with dr. l. are in future pages. apparently a garden of paradise. when first i entered this house, situated upon ida hill, in 1860, on the west side lay a beautiful garden, inclosed with a gate on either side, east and west, from gate to gate, was the vineyard forming a shady walk, between the house and the garden was a thorny hedge, within this garden were many kinds of trees bearing fruit, and like adam and eve, our first parents, i saw mr. and mrs. john harrison often walking in this asylum garden, in the cool of the day. soon after i entered this house, i found a circular containing the rules and by-laws of this institution, and in it i learned that mr. harrison was steward, and mrs. harrison was matron. i also learned that there was a chapel in the building, and mr. harrison often read a chapter and prayed at the sacred desk, though for ten long years he has not spoken to me, neither had i been into the chapel, and no one had given me an encouraging word, however much i needed it. in 1870, i found a friend, who encouraged my heart, and assisted me to work out my own salvation with fear and trembling. since i left the asylum not a cloud has gathered o'er my mind to darken my hopes in regard to my future happiness and joys in a future state, which for more than ten years was the burden of my heart. like paul, i have suffered, and that too for christ's sake; like paul i have been cruelly beaten, yea, and imprisoned, and my feet made fast in the stocks or straps. and like job i have been delivered into the hands of the devil, all but my life apparently. whatever might have been the great design of the good lord in my case, i can say, with paul, our light afflictions, which are but for a moment, work out for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. i believe the path of the righteous groweth brighter and brighter unto the perfect day, though they may have trials and afflictions to encounter; jesus promised his grace shall be sufficient for them. again and again i have visited the asylum, and when i look for that once beautiful garden it is not there, it is gone, the hedge is removed, the vineyard is rooted up, the beautiful pear tree that was heavily loaded near the window was gone, the currant bush and the strawberry beds all removed. we ask the cause of this great change. who hath sinned, this happy appearing pair or their children, or the twenty-six governors of the institution. we hope for the best, praying that change after change may take place, until lunatic asylums become what they were originally designed for, the benefit of the inmates and their weeping friends, and not for the benefit of slave holders in the first degree. like the garden, we shall all be changed in the twinkling of an eye. the garden converted into shady walks. during my stay in the incurable house from july 3, 1862, to october 13, 1871, the beautiful garden that lay west of the asylum was converted into pleasant walks, with paths and crosswalks overspread with beautiful shade trees of various kinds, and a beautiful croquet lawn, neatly arranged for the diversion of the patients. in 1860 or 1861 i was met at the dining table by wm. b. gibbs, an old acquaintance, who accosted me in the following manner: "how do you do, brother swan, i am glad to see you here." glad, thought i, and happy to see a brother shut up in a lunatic asylum. i was not made glad to see any one who did not try to help me to get home. in the main house i had but few calls from acquaintances. i will record the names of those: my wife, p. stade, pittstown; c. pierce, do; mrs. norman baker, do; mr. sprut, do; john warren, do. home, home sweet home, thought i. this wm. b. gibbs have just come from utica asylum, having been there once and again many years, at this time somewhat ferocious and mischievous, became quiet, and his sister took him home about 1867, with whom he now lives in a low, melancholy state of mind. n. b.--sometimes a person's troubles arise from the abuses of others, and sometimes from self-abuse. could self-abused persons say as did the penitent thief on the cross, all would be well. my treatment in the main house. the first night i was locked up in the inner prison or cell heretofore alluded to, and this was enough to make a rational man crazy. what, said i, a lunatic asylum for my home, a cell for my dining room, a cell for my lodging, and a cell for my closet of prayer. ah, friend, can you imagine how one feels, sick and in prison, friendless and hopeless. the first night said i, no dear wife to smooth down my pillow, and no dear daughter to fan my fainting person, or to give a cup of cold water. ah, what a deplorable situation, if i die i must die alone. main house. in this house i received no maltreatment from attendants (much from patients, gibbs, and others). i remained in this house fifteen months without the opportunity to go out, even to the chapel. not a particle of medicine was administered to me while in this house, not a book did i have to read after o'donnel destroyed the bible. my board and bedding. as to my board in this house, i have no fault to find, in regard to myself i had enough and in good order, a few strawberries and grapes in their season and vegetables occasionally, also on thanksgiving and the holidays some nice meats from the poultry yard, this is customary. after i was taken from the dead-house cell or cell near the dead-house, i was changed from hall to hall and from bed-room to bed-room, and locked in by different attendants, treated roughly by room-mates, not by attendants personally, but inasmuch as they did not care they did it unto me. the bedsteads that i occupied were iron through, the beds were mattrasses; well supplied with suitable clothing; in this house, summer and winter, kept neat and clean (on my part) more so than of many others. remarks. there is a heaven where angels sing, there is an opposite where devils prowl. there is a paradise and there is a world of woe, and although a person be exalted to heaven in point of privilege he may be thrust down to hell. in this apparent paradise, my five pittstown neighbors saw me once, and like the deluded man perhaps made up their minds this was the place for me. be it known that i, moses swann, was never a proper subject for a lunatic asylum (only as a spy or for the sake of others), neither was the devil a christian when he met with the sons of god. whoever complained against me or believed me a proper subject for such a lunatic asylum, was as greatly mistaken as i was in regard to my future happiness; ten years i was conscientiously mistaken, they might have been; our saviour said first pull the beam out of thine own eye then thou canst see more clearly to pull out the mote that is in thy brother's eye. many there are who know their neighbors in their own estimation better than they know their own hearts. my wife's last visit to the main house. in the spring of 1861, my wife visited me; that year the war broke out in the south. as we sat in the dining room i said to her, "there is a war." "o, yes," said she, "and many of the stores are shut in troy." our hearts were too sad to talk much about home and past time, our visit was short, she inquired of me something about my fare, to her i never complained, knew she was too weak to bear my burdens, therefore i made the best of it to her. the separation time drew near, she says to a patient, "let me out" (supposing him to be the attendant or turnkey), "not so" said i, calling george harrison (for he was attendant then), we took the parting hand once more in a lunatic asylum. soon after we took the parting hand at this time, i was removed to the south or dead-house hallway, having been shaved by adkins, the lunatic barber; i was now afraid i should be shaved to death by others. when i returned to this hall i was met by a large, robust, muscular man, his name i did not learn, english by birth. not long after he came into my bed-room with patient gibbs and ordered me to change my own suit for others, i knew not whose, i was very loth to do so, fearing i should never get them again, and so it is as yet, my trunk, overcoat, and all i carried there were retained, although i asked the steward for them when i left the institution in 1871, oct. 13. my removal from the main house to the incurable one. on the morning of the 3d day of july, 1862, the attendant, above described, came into the hall and put an old white hat on my head; taking me by the arm, says, "come, go up to the other house" (meaning the incurable one) "and stay a few weeks." "i don't want to go," said i. he then left me, and soon returned with george harrison, who steps up to me and says, "you must go." the attendant again took me by the arm, and i stepped out door for the first time since i entered the institution. he led me on up the hill. by the way we were met by wm. anderson, who abruptly said, "you have got him then." (at this time anderson was cow-boy and common helper.) on i marched, like a prisoner in the hands of a drunken policeman (for i could smell his whisky breath). presently we came in sight of the old brick small-pox house, which is used as a branch asylum, or incurable house, to stow away poor unfortunate victims like myself. as we came to the south door we were met, not as at endor by the great whore of babylon, but by the great maiden _isabel_ anderson, who bound me, as seen in the engraving. the attendant now asks the magdalene _isabel_, "where shall i put him?" "in the room where there is one man," said she. up one flight of stairs we went, turning to the right. i was locked up with ebenezer scott, who assisted t. haly to strangle me, when bound by isabel. (see engraving.) though the reader may think it strange that i should know isabel, the magdalenish woman, when i entered the incurable house, and know it was the 3d of july, 1862, having had no almanac, yet, it is, nevertheless, true. how i knew it was the third, when i was removed from house to house, because the next day was celebrated as our american independence, i saw the little boys with fire-crackers; i heard the loud cannons roar; i saw the fire-works or sky-rockets ascend high in the air from troy and albany, while looking out of the window in the evening. how i knew isabel--saw her at the main house scouring the oil-cloth in the hall; saw her raking hay in the door-yard; saw her and dr. gregory stand out door looking into my window, when my wife and i were visiting quietly, alone, in a room near the dining room and kitchen; this was in the winter of 1860, the same year i entered the asylum. again. in my opinion, when haly and isabel bound me, she was a magdalenian woman of the cain family, possessed of seven devils, and, although the _troy daily whig_ would not publish for me against such treatment, because they got much gain from the institution on ida hill, still they caused the following to be published in their columns, namely, isabel's suicidal and untimely death, which took place march 16, 1873--hanging to the same balusters whose stairs led to my room in the third story of the incurable house--same stairs she dragged wm. jefferson down. suicide at the marshall infirmary--a female nurse hangs herself to the balusters--the cause a mystery. the inmates of marshall infirmary were greatly shocked on arising yesterday morning to discover that one of the nurses had hanged herself during the night. the facts are as follows: isabel anderson, aged about fifty-four years, first entered the employ of the infirmary as a nurse some eight or ten years ago. she was assigned to take charge of the ward for female insane persons, but when the small-pox was epidemic, her ward was changed, and small-pox patients were put under her charge. at the disappearance of that disease she was again placed in her old position. she had been suffering from some obscure disease since january last, but within the last few days she had greatly improved, and when her husband (who has charge of the male insane ward) left her on saturday night, she appeared to feel better and more cheerful than she had in some time. a little before 1 o'clock, yesterday morning, her husband thought he heard her knock at the door, and consequently went to her room, but found every thing quiet. it is probable that the noise mr. anderson heard proceeded from some one of the insane patients who are more or less noisy all the time. after satisfying himself that every thing was right he returned to his room and went to sleep. on rising about 6 o'clock, he was descending to his wife's room, when he was horrified to see his wife suspended by the neck from the balusters on the third story. he immediately gave the alarm, and with assistance, cut down the body and laid it out in her room. mrs. anderson was a very fleshy woman, weighing over two hundred pounds, and the supposition is that she left her room between 1 and 6 o'clock, taking one of the sheets from her bed, and proceeding to the hallway on the third story, tied one end of it to her neck and the other to the balusters and then dropped over the rail. owing to her great weight it is probable that she died almost immediately. coroner brennan was notified and took charge of the remains, and he will hold an inquest. mrs. anderson will be buried to-morrow. she was a hard working, industrious woman, and by studied economy had saved considerable money and bought three or four houses up-town. her husband was very devoted to her and feels his loss keenly. he cannot give any cause for her suicide, as she had never threatened any thing of the kind nor given any reason to suspect such an intention. it is but justice to say that the persons in charge of the infirmary are entirely blameless in the matter, as mrs. anderson was capable of attending to her duties as usual. we make this remark, as the public are often apt to blame the authorities of a hospital when any such occurrence takes place. dr. lomax, who is at present confined to his room, stated to a _whig_ reporter that the affair was an entire mystery to him. mrs. anderson was one of the most faithful, honest and industrious nurses ever employed in any hospital and had never shown any signs of insanity. her sickness, however, may have caused her mind to be depressed, and perhaps during the night she may have been taken with some acute pains, and jumping out of bed, deliberately committed the act. the above local news is an extract from the _troy daily whig_, monday morning, march 17, 1873. i knew that isabel anderson was turnkey in the incurable house of the marshall asylum more than nine years. i know that isabel anderson was not honest. my wife brought me two flannel shirts, they were marked m. swan, on the bosom, i wore them a few times and they were gone, and they were worn by isabel and haly that winter, and i had to go without all winter. so much for the _troy daily whig_. m. swan at home. isabel's maiden name was miss anderson, dr. lomax told me she was married after i went to the incurable house, in care of haly and others. after mrs. isabel was married to william anderson, he became an attendant over the male patients, and i came under his care; this was about 1866 or 1867. chapter v. judged incurable, july 3, 1861--rooming with ebenezer scott. the first attendant over me in the incurable house was a dutchman called chris, i recognized him as a helper; when i was in the main-house william anderson told me chris and his wife were patients, now attendants; the first shaving day he called me into the hall, sears standing by, who was a patient also, and i was shaved by another lunatic barber, in fear of my life, in a lunatic asylum. i appeal to the committee of managers. would either of you dare be shaved by one of these? (i answer in the negative.) then adopt the golden rule: "do unto others as you would have others do unto you." the incurable house of the marshall institution is situated upon ida hill, between the main house and the pest-house, in an open field, on either end of the house are high hills, making a lonely place. beneath is the hollow road, and on the west beneath, is the great hudson river to be seen, passing between south and west troy. often have i seen, in the time of the war, the great flag hoisted near the arsenal, and heard the loud cannons roar, when locked up a prisoner in this house. incurable house. july 3, 1862. soon after i was in the room with scott, in came chris and ordered me to take off the coat that was given me by the attendant and gibbs in the main house; time passed on, the hour for dinner came, in came chris and his wife with dinner, placing mine upon a small stand and scott's upon his bed, one plate each and a cup of water. here we slept, ate and done all we did do for many weeks, and i declare, it was not a very sweet smelling place for a dining-room, in the month of july. this room was on the second floor, the other rooms were occupied by females. in the adjoining room there were two colored women. the old mrs. jones that chris struck when she came into my room at dinner time, died before i left, the other referred to is maria, who i have often seen there since 1870, if i am not mistaken. after the reign of chris. alfred, who i have described as the painter, was a very intemperate man, english by birth; first saw him in the main house, in 1860-61; did not see him bound there, heard he was, to a stationary chair. i went to the incurable house july 3d, 1862; saw him there, he done some painting in the house. after chris was removed alfred had the key to my room and scott's. scott was a man about twenty-seven or twenty-eight years of age. i soon learned he was a self-abused person and that he knew how to abuse others. i think he was an impenitent, self-condemned madman; he knew enough to work, he knew when he was called to dinner; most of the time sullen and mute. some time in july john p. bacon was brought from the main house to my room and bound to a stationary chair. now we numbered three in this room of perfumery. j. p. bacon was a resident of lansingburgh, some nineteen or twenty years old; had been taken to, and brought from, utica asylum previous to his coming to ida hill asylum. in the fall of 1862 we were moved to the third floor, and i roomed with scott and others in the middle east room nights, being locked in another through the daytime, with many maniacs. upon this third floor i staid until i got my liberty in 1870. walked out a few times. doctors, attendants and patients in the incurable house. during my stay in this house i became acquainted with many different attendants and patients whose names i here record, and shall speak of some of them individually in subsequent pages. names of attendants and doctors in the incurable house. second, dr. lomax and dr. gregory, first. names of male attendants: 1. chris, 2. alfred, sears, patient; unknown, gagged barclay; isabella, when alfred was drunk, thomas haly, ebenezer scott, patient; name unknown, robbed me of tobacco, amos knowles, patient; william anderson was attendant from 1867 to 1871 and is still in 1874. names of female attendants: mrs. isabella anderson, up to march 17, 1873, then hanged; mary wager, august 6th, 1873. conversed with her. names of the male patients in the incurable house. ebenezer scott, john p. bacon, lansingburgh; patrick mealy, o'conner, thomas leonard, dr. klingstine, berlin; sherman s. bristol, troy; charles barclay, from utica asylum; john smalley, son did visit him; mr. walis, wife and sons visit; john h. ham, father and mother visit; n. buel, troy, wife visited; wm. b. gibbs, pittstown; nelson west, pittstown; kirk hull, berlin; wm. lewis, berlin; gen. skyler, west troy; sears, and wm. lawrence, boint; wm. jefferson, troy. female patients in the incurable house. miss jones, colored; mariah, colored; miss petre; aunta (so called), miss lawn, miss byron, one indian woman, one called betsy, catharine morris, bridget hamilton, ann twogood, late from pittstown, 1874. patients in the incurable house averaged from thirty to thirty-seven, say about one-third males. dead removed and live ones brought. reign of alfred. after 1862 i roomed in the east middle room, roomed nights, for a number of years with patients from england, ireland, scotland, germany and america, black and white, of many professions and different beliefs, and truly it was a high school to an observing mind. be it known to the reader it was not a very desirable lodging room, now and then awoke in dead of night by the groans of the dying in an adjoining bed. in this room were from four to five single beds of straw, some two feet apart. at one time for many weeks lay a negro, wm. lawrence, bound to his bed and handcuffed, singing and whistling, although he was bound with an asylum harness such as i am exhibiting around the country in public. i was afraid of my life; he was a wicked, self-abused young man. oh! what a set of school mates, thought i. but to these i made no conversation. i have often seen wm. lawrence compelled to wash dishes with hands bound; one morning haly told me to hold up the darkey's dirty pants so he could step into them. attendant's word was law. i raised them front side toward the darkey in presence of attendant. "go away," says he, supposing me to be green. i willingly left and had no more darkeys to wait upon. scott. after lawrence left this bed, scott was placed in it. although i had never spoken to scott he had once kicked me severely when walking upon the hall peaceably and quiet. again, one night, soon after we were all locked up in this room scott arose from his bed, placed his feet upon the floor, grabbed me by the whiskers with both hands, throwing himself backward upon his bed, held me fast. and i can truly say he is the first person i ever struck, and i could not strike him very hard though in self-defense, for i was very weak, and my antagonist was a strong young madman. at this critical moment the door unlocked and in came alfred, the attendant, saying, "what is the matter?" though i did not practice talking i told the truth. the attendant placed upon scott the asylum harness and hurled him out of the room; after a time he returned with scott wet and nearly fainting, then strapping him to the bed for the night. in this transaction scott learned a lesson by sad experience, that i learned by observation. alfred's reign continued though under isabel magdalene. it must be remembered that in alfred's reign the hall on the second floor, occupied by females, was accessible to the hall above, occupied by male patients, as the stairs were not at the time cased up. one day as i stood looking from the head of the stairs, i saw down at the foot, a female lunatic bound in a straight jacket in a squabble with isabel the magdalene attendant, then quickly passed by alfred, and down to the ward-hall, severely laying hold of the almost helpless lunatic, crushing her to the floor upon her back, then jumping upon her bowels, with both his knees and with all his heft pounced upon her, like a ferocious animal upon his prey. it was a bloody battle, pray, judge ye, how i felt seeing the blood standing in pools on the floor. yea, reader, drop a sympathizing tear for the unfortunate sufferers who are locked in lunatic asylums with such brutal outcasts for attendants. union is strength, this the serpent-like know as well as the righteous. and he who knows all hearts hath said, "though the wicked go hand in hand, they shall not go unpunished." alfred's reign continued. in reviewing and comparing the former transaction with this transaction, committed in the large room on the third floor, used as a lock-up for many patients during the day-time, alfred being the key-master. in this room we done what we could not help doing, and upon my honor it was not one of the finest perfumed rooms. among the many was a german man, much deformed and an object of pity (his name i cannot recall), he would walk about the room, though wearing a part of the asylum harness, discontented, uneasy and to all appearance deluded and insane, acting upon first thought like many, regardless of consequences. one warm day as he was promenading about the room he drew his foot and kicked the chamber-pail from the corner of the room to the center, dumping its contents amongst the crew. in came alfred and isabel, the male and female attendants, down with the poor deluded man, and whilst alfred was placing upon him the remainder of the accursed harness, isabel stood heavily upon his ankles with both feet, holding him in her grasp. and now for the bath-room, down stairs they went with their victim. after a time he was returned to the room wet and weak, placed in a chair with not strength to hold up his head, he soon fell prostrate to the floor with his hands bound; soon after he died and was stretched upon the dead board and carried out. i have now already related two transactions wherein both the male and female attendants were engaged in brutal acts against poor lunatic persons, who should have had the sympathy of all and kind treatment by attendants. by this time the reader sees that these wicked attendants are in league and go hand in hand in crimes of this kind. the devil is the father of the cain family and the father of lies, and almost all of the attendants of lunatic asylums are graduates or pupils in that family, as near as i can judge by their works, "for by their works ye shall know them." alfred still holds the rein of government. i will relate another transaction wherein i, m. swan, was a great sufferer, and lest the reader may think me a trespasser, i will state it was not for what i had done, but for what i could not do. early one morning j. p. bacon, scott, fitzgerald, clingstain and others, six or eight in number, were brought in my room and seated on a bench in a line, then alfred began to clip their hair one by one, giving them the state prison clip, so called. he then says to me, "sit down." i knew most of them to be wicked men, and to sit down with them and receive the mark, i could not, and disobeyed his command by saying, "i can't." i believe the spirit is the moving cause or mainspring of the mind, and the mind is the man, or in other words, "that which suffers or enjoys." reader, can you rise from your seat until your mind is changed? can a mistaken person change his or her ways till the mind is changed? could the blind man whose eyes jesus opened see until there was a cure wrought by the divine redeemer? could saul of tarsus, desist in persecuting the church till his mind was changed, for he said he "verily thought he was doing god service?" and so like paul i labored under the mistaken notion in my weakness, that i should be lost forever, yet i was a firm believer in the truth; i believed others could be saved. i was afraid to do anything wrong, and no person saw me smile during my captivity for more than ten years. but to my story. i said, "i can't," when he told me to sit down to have my hair sheared. the attendant then removed all others from the room, locking me in. presently he returned with patient sears. sears was a great, stout, robust-looking man, having in his hand two of the straps bb, buckled together with a noose made in the same. they both rushed toward me. i backed into the corner, and sears tried to lasso me by throwing the noose or running-knot over my head. in the meantime, i raised my hands, warding off the noose. sears being tired of this, then tried to persuade me to be bound, asking me to put on cuffs a, which i refused. he plead like the devil transformed into an angel of light, saying, "put them on, they won't hurt you," and then tried to encourage me by saying, he had had them on a hundred times. oh, the devil let loose in the person of sears and attendant alfred. this moment a boy came along near the window. attendant raised the window and told him to send up a man from the other house to bind a man (meaning me), and the cowards left, and cowards they were, for the boy, not more than twelve years old, could have floored me at that time in a moment. i watched their return in fear and trembling. presently the two cowards, encouraged by david hicks, a child of the devil isabel, for he often called her mother for the sake of gain. hicks was a strong person, of more than medium size. the three rushed up to me, hicks grabbed me around my body and arms, hurling me to the floor in a moment, placing his heavy knee upon my left side. "oh," said i, "you will break my ribs." "it is of little consequence," says hicks. holding me fast, whilst the two cowards bound me with the accursed harness. the attendant then raised me upon my feet; the three ruffians then kicked me into another room to a chair that was ironed to the floor, when seated, my hands being bound as seen in the engraving; the attendant ran strap b and b between my body and arms, on either side, then below to the rounds of the chair; then drawing strap f, which was fast to my feet, by cuff d and d, strap f was locked to the back round of the chair. in this suffering condition, in pain from my wounded side and ribs, all day long i sit, nothing to eat, not even a cup of cold water. i was much fatigued and faint when the sun set in the west. but, says the reader, as many others have said, who have listened to the rehearsal of this transaction, did the attendant cut your hair off, he did not, he loosed me in the evening, told me he would never bind me again, and he kept his word as to that. remarks. i wore the accursed harness but twice in the asylum, and that too against my will, not as a duty. but now in 1874 i am exhibiting a similar one that i bought of a mr. hogan, as a duty, to let the people know how patients are treated in lunatic asylums. although i have received maltreatment in asylums in new york and vermont states, i am not altogether opposed to these institutions, for there are insane persons who have no homes, yet i protest against maltreatment. we are received as insane, unfortunate beings, use us kind, and the good lord will reward you. will lecture upon this subject, and exhibit the asylum harness, when arrangements are made in proper places. address m. swan, hoosick falls, rensselaer county, n. y. a charge to keep, i have, a god to glorify, a never dying soul to save, and fit it for the skies. to serve the present age, my calling to fulfill, oh, may it all my power engage to do my master's will. although i may not have the gift of a poet, and may not have the gift of prophecy, neither be as good as john the baptist, yet i can truly say, like paul, i have been beaten for christ's sake, when bound in the ida hill lunatic asylum. it is not a pleasant task for me to reveal the faults of others, more particularly those of the dead, yet when i realize how many are robbed of their liberty and lives, my soul is stirred within me, in behalf of poor sufferers in these institutions. if these great sins are the sins of ignorance or neglect on the part of any one of the governors or inspectors, or government, it is not to be winked at. alfred the intemperate attendant's cruelty to john smalley, a patient. j. smalley came to the main house in 1860; removed to the incurable one before the 3d of july, in 1862, where he died about 1864 or '65. he was a man some seventy-five years old, weighing about seventy or eighty pounds. by what i gathered from him he had been an inn-keeper, and had become an intemperate man. alfred, the attendant, gave him liquor for medicine, a share to himself. john smalley lodged in the black or brown floor room; i have often seen him bound to the window bars, from day to day; often seen attendants carry him down stairs for washing; but what was more cruel, i saw alfred pounce upon him while he was lying upon his back in bed, stamping him with both knees upon his bowels. the poor old man had a son come to see him, but what of that, be ye clothed and be ye fed does no more good than the priest's passing look did the man who went from jerusalem down to jericho and fell among thieves. i ask, could not the old man's son have acted the part of the good samaritan, and took the old man to an inn and bound up the wounds that alfred, the attendant, made by his cruel treatment. my wife visiting me in the incurable house with brother b. and nephew. _dr. gregory, in the reign of alfred._ after my wife and brother b. and his son livy had been received for the first time into the incurable house, and seated in the south hall, i was loosed from the large room where i was once bound, and taken to the hall to meet my wife and brother for the first time in this hopeless house. my wife and friends had been told by doctors there was no hope of my being any better, i was incurable. this caused my visits to be few and far between. i was considered a worthless man, and a nuisance. i was asked by my wife if i would like to go home with them, when i answered yes. brother spoke to alfred in regard to my going, who says, "you must ask dr. gregory." we took the parting hand and i remained a sufferer for years to come. treatment of j. h. ham by alfred. j. h. ham had a father and mother who visited him in the back hall. henry was a young man, not twenty years of age. saw him bound day after day with the whole of the asylum harness, fastened to a chair, with gag in his mouth day after day for being noisy. he was often taken to the bath tub and put into cold water so long that his feet were frozen. i saw chilblains he said were caused by so doing. young ham, under this treatment, grew pale and weak, and one leg became almost useless. i saw his father come and take him away. rejoice with those that rejoice, and weep with those that weep. friday morning, _june 18, 1874_. just returned from my daughter; saw her for the first time press her first-born babe to her bosom with a smile. who can know the joys of my daughter's heart this morning but a mother. who knows the feeling of the virgin mary when she brought forth her first-born son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger. who knows her feelings when she gazed upon the cross and saw her son bleeding and dying. who can know that mother's grief when she stood by joseph's tomb inquiring of the angel for her risen lord. who knows the feelings of jesus when he was agonizing in the garden of gethsemane. who knows the feelings of jesus but a jesus, when he hung upon the cross saying, "father, forgive them, they know not what they do." 'tis easy for a mother to love her infant, but to love our enemies is more than all burnt sacrifices. try it. again, who can know the heartrending feelings of the author, when he reviews the ten years of his asylum life, and thinks of the poor he left in bonds, and exclaims, help, lord, for the godly man ceaseth. help me to watch and pray, and on thyself rely, assured if i my trust betray i shall forever die. arm me with zealous care, as in thy sight to live, and oh, thy servant, lord, prepare, a strict account to give. chapter vi. fred the attendant after alfred. fred was a native from england; had a wife with him; lodged in attendants' room, near me; fred abused me shamefully by bathing and washing me in water and human filth; then galled off my wet hair, in spots, with the shears, disfiguring my person for gazers to sneer at; yet, i had feelings for others, as well as for myself. one time he had a victim or patient bound with hand-cuffs, a, seated on the irons of an iron bed-stead, with his feet fastened up to the same, thus sitting till falling backward upon the iron rack, crying and groaning in pain from torture. but, oh, alas! as i have said, they kill some in these institutions. second transaction of fred against his victim. behold the _man_, a _lunatic_, in a lunatic asylum, bound with muff, e, as seen in the engraving. and as i positively saw in the incurable house; fred, with a chair raised above his victim's head, with one round broken; did not see him strike him with the chair, but saw him drag him out of the room by the neck, bound, as described above, with strap, b, noosed around his throat and neck, as a hunter lassoes the wild horse. behold them at the head of the stairs, as i did; fred hurrying through the doorway, and his victim slammed against the door-post, helpless and bound as he was, slamming around the door-post, strangling, in fear of the awful precipice below, down he plunges to the bottom, and like one in deep water, disappeared from my sight for a time. after a time came back fred, the asylum nurse, and the poor strangled man, bound as he was, and wet from head to foot, nature was almost exhausted; he survived a few hours, and gave up the ghost. a few thoughts suggested. is this marshall lunatic asylum a slave depot to hold poor unfortunate men and women, and send them on to eternity without a moment's warning, prepared or not, and no one accountable? money is the root of all evil. and these sins are sins of ignorance, not to be winked at. herod laid hold on john, and bound him and put him in prison for herodias' sake, for naught but telling the truth. and the king sent and beheaded john in the prison. and his head was given to the daughter of herodias, who danced before the king and his guests on his birth-day. is no one accountable for his death? and john's disciples went and told jesus. and i often tell jesus how attendants kill poor lunatics in troy lunatic asylum. and i have been and told governor dix, of new york state, how they bound and pounded me, without cause, and strangled me. i carried the accursed harness into the executive chamber, hoping that governor dix would protest against such treatment; and i still hope. i have exhibited to mayor kemp, of troy city, the accursed harness, and revealed to him the cruel treatment the lunatics undergo in ida hill lunatic asylum by the cain family or their children. i have told the president of the institution how badly i was treated when bound by isabella, hoping to influence the government by setting before them the facts as i saw and realized them. i have lectured privately and publicly with all long suffering upon the subject of asylum life; though it be sown in weakness it may be raised in strength to the good of poor sufferers and redound to the glory of god. attendant after fred, name unknown. this attendant was a carpenter or mechanic of some kind; was a tall, lean, bald-headed, cruel-hearted man. his stay was short; negro lawrence was too strong for him, as i saw them in a tussle; but a child could handle a strong man when harnessed tightly with the asylum harness. a soldier of the last war, after listening to one transaction and seeing the asylum harness, told me how he was tortured when a prisoner in libby prison, bound in chains and almost starved. i have seen so much of human nature i believed him. a fool can lead a horse to water but he cannot make him drink. i have revealed great truths thus far in my history; do not expect to convert the world, but will try to do my duty. transactions in my room. charles barclay was a great sufferer in the hands of this cruel mechanic and attendant, barclay being bound with handcuffs, a, muff, e, and belt b, became somewhat noisy. he had enough to endure to make a sane man crazy. one morning came in this cruel mechanic with a cord tied to a round stick as large as a broom handle, placed it into barclay's mouth then placing the cord back of his neck tied it to the other end of the stick, which was in the poor man's mouth, his hands were bound and he was gagged and left in this suffering condition till dinner time; loosened a little while for dinner and then gagged till supper time, and so on from day to day. reader, did i not have a specific object of prayer before me as a room mate? after the gagging attendant left. another attendant came who gave me the first medicine i had after i entered the institution. the first medicine i received was three sugar-coated pills; must have been in the spring of 1864, it was before i became acquainted with dr. lomax. no unkindness did he manifest to me, only he robbed me of the tobacco my wife brought me on her visit about that time. fall of 1864, visited by mr. and mrs. g. wadsworth and my wife. mr. george wadsworth, his wife and mine, were shown into my room by isabella, when in came the male attendant and isabella made an excuse for showing them to my room. i was lying in bed, in low spirits, weak and discouraged. i asked no questions about friends or home. i knew wadsworth and his wife lotty, although i had not seen them in four years. for a person to be visited in a prison, especially by acquaintances, is not very pleasant and to be left is harder. i was asked by my wife if i knew mrs. wadsworth, who i so much liked to hear sing when at church. the countenances of neighbors were as familiar to me when seen in prison as out. i knew the different kinds of birds although their sweet music had lost its charms to me. i preferred home in preference to that place, and had i had one encouraging word in that direction my heart would have leaped for joy at that time. we took the parting hand. oh, think for a moment, reader, how must a dear wife have felt, when the tears trickled down her cheek, to leave her husband in an incurable asylum; incurable as she had often been told by doctors. at one time, and again a brother j. visited, at other times a brother b., and one time a brother r., from buffalo, visited me, whom i had not seen for many years, and while the tears streamed from both our eyes we separated, perhaps to meet no more on earth. pen cannot describe, i must hasten. i sent to a brother l., living in california, the transaction as seen and described in the engraving, saying i would send him this history, when published. he writes as follows: "it is enough," praying me not to send it, "i cannot bear to read of so much sufferings of a brother." i pray you who cannot read my history and sufferings take the bible and read of paul, beaten and in prison, of job, of our saviour, in the garden, pleading that the cup might pass, and read the story of the cross. thomas haly, incurable house attendant. haly was born of old country parents, and so was isabella, the magdalen woman, who helped him bind me, as seen in the engraving. the morning they bound me, as seen in the picture, i was standing by a window in the short hall, when haly came to me and says, in a harsh voice, "go to the dummy and stand till it is ready." i immediately obeyed, and as i stopped at the place he drew his foot and kicked me severely. i turned around, showing no violence, did not speak to him, don't think i had for days; but he drew his fist and says "don't face me;" i then turned to the dummy and soon raised the breakfast from the kitchen to the third floor. this transaction was the beginning of the second one which took place soon after breakfast with me, as seen in the engraving. i believe these transactions were plotted and agreed upon by the two wicked attendants. the first time my friends came i told them haly and isabella were killing me, but i suppose they thought me to be crazy, though i never heard any one call me crazy until magistrate boynton, of pittstown, addressed me as follows: "you crazy old hypocrite, when are you going back to the asylum?" i hope boynton will become a gentleman. man, know thyself. again, as i was telling another man how haly pounded me with the strap and buckle leaving wounds up to that time, he replied, "may be you needed it." i hope he will be saved by and by through faith in christ yet to be obtained. i saw haly in a fight with patrick fitzgerald; had an iron weight in his hand, and the blood streaming from the patient's brow. patrick was received as a lunatic; thrust into the dead-house cell soon after i was taken out in 1860. i believe a lunatic should be treated as a mischievous little innocent child. i never begged but once. i begged while in that strangling condition for my dear life, and, whilst life remains, i will beg and pray for those i left behind me in lunatic asylums, numbering seven hundred unfortunate ones. my wife, daughter and mrs. alexander's visit. some time after haly and isabel and scott strangled me; i was very weak and short of breath; and at the time my wife and daughter came i was very weak; i told them the cause, and, perhaps, will never recover from that lung and breath straining. be that as it may, god is my helper, and i shall not want. up to the time haly left, and anon, isabel had access to the men's department, and acted as independent as though she was mistress of all. after haly, mr. noals, a patient, acted as attendant; heard isabel say to him, when in a dispute, he had better save his breath to cool his porridge. some of the female patients called isabel mother, and so did david hix when he came in the evening and wanted a female patient to take a walk with him; in dead of night, when the moon shone bright, i have heard hix say, mother! mother! i have brought back your daughter; and the daughter says, mother! mother! there is no danger of walking out with such a fine man as mr. hix. this was the hix that helped to bind me when kicked to the chair and bound to it. after noals. william anderson, attendant, until i left october 13, 1870. soon after william came william b. gibbs went home, and i was placed in the north-east room that gibbs left, where i lodged until i left. in this room i remained at least four years. i was a great sufferer from rheumatism in the stomach, much soreness and often raising blood; faint and weak; away from home and friends. but, says one, did not the attendant care for you? i ask, what can one man do for twelve patients, by night and by day, even if he was well disposed. in this room were from three to six beds, from 1867 to '71, occupied by white and black, old and young. should i attempt to fully describe every transaction that occurred in this room within the four years, a volume as large as this would not contain it. i will give a few names of persons over whom william anderson was attendant in this room. i will relate a few transactions that occurred. myself, ned buel, kirk hull, william jefferson, john p. bacon. i have talked with many country physicians since i left the asylum, and they generally believe that patients in troy asylum are all well cared for. but doctors are mistaken, and the public are deceived, and the poor incurable ones, and others, have to suffer wrongfully. troy lunatic asylum is like a whited sepulchre without, but within is full of dead men's bones; and i say to county doctors, do not recommend such an institution, neither blow for them longer, until a reform is brought about, for you know not who the fire burns in those secret chambers. sufferings of wm. jefferson, a lunatic. after jefferson had been bound in bed all night anderson loosed him and told him to get up. the negro refused; attendant drew the clothes immediately off him, the darkey leaped from the bed, though hands bound with cuffs, aa, and belt, b, grabbing the vessel from under his bed, threw it at the attendant's head, missed his game, hit the door and broke the vessel. attendant drew the door shut and was gone for a time and i trembled in fear, lying in bed. presently came anderson with the magdalen, isabella, and a male bully from the main house entering the room where i was, pounced upon the negro, and, after a long tussle, brought him to the floor, and whilst the two held and bound his feet together with strap, b, the magdalen isabella was pounding his shins with a broom handle and saying, "'tis his shins that want it," another strap, b, being noosed around the one that fastened his legs together, isabella hitched a ginny, or her hands, to the strap and started for the door, dragging the poor lunatic out of my sight by his heels and in all probability down two flights of stairs to the bath-room, as may be judged by what is yet to come. second sufferings of wm. jefferson, the negro. again, one morning as i was lying in bed having just finished my breakfast and placed the heavy coffee bowl on the stand, quickly, jefferson darted across the room, grabbed the bowl and struck me on my head as i was lying in bed, and left, taking a stool went to the next room; did not see him strike wm. mine, mine told me he did. saw mine in the poor-house since. saw anderson bring the stool out of mine's room; inch and a half plank bottom split in two. saw anderson dress mine's wounded head. by this time jefferson was back with me, anderson pulled the self-locking door and i was locked in with the crazy negro. come in doctors, the luny negro will not hurt you, come in doctors, and give me a cup of cold water; you say i am incurable, i say i am faint. come in, doctors, the negro won't hurt you, his luny mind is turned another way; he stands with a drawn mop, this side the door, ready to meet his foes. at this moment came anderson with two main house bully fighters. slam, bang, open came the door and in came the attendant with his two fighters pouncing upon the negro and jammed him down on a bed near where i lay, whilst one, not weighing less than two hundred pounds, grasped both hands in the negro's hair, held him tight to the bed. in the meantime the second one (who had helped bind him previously) pounded him in the face until the blood streamed from his nose and mouth. "now," says anderson, who had strapped his feet together whilst they were pounding him, "let him up," instantly drawing him bodily to the floor. now he lays bleeding on the floor, and now they raise him upon his feet, and place on his hands muff e. the lunatic being bound, hand and foot, was taken out of my sight. after a time i saw him lying on the floor bound as described, with the exception of his feet; wet from head to foot; gasping for breath. come in doctors, the lunatic is cured, he can't hurt you; come in, father, your son won't hurt you; come in, mother, and fan your fainting son; pray, come one and all, make up minds to keep your unfortunate ones from lunatic asylums. kirk hull, of berlin. kirk hull was an orphan boy, some sixteen or seventeen years of age, of a slender constitution; was subject to falling fits,--have seen him have many--falling prostrate on the floor, bruising his head and face till the blood ran down his brow; frothing and bleeding at the mouth, with his hands fastened in muff e. i have seen anderson put the whole of the asylum harness on him, and lay him on his back in bed and bind him to the bedstead on either side, stretching his legs to the foot, and then fast with the feet straps to the foot of the bedstead, lying in such a torturing state night after night, and week after week. he was cured of fits in the marshall lunatic asylum, ida hill, troy; n. b., not by medical skill, but from torture and such maltreatment. the orphan died in the darkness of night, with no one to smooth his dying pillow, or wipe the cold sweat from his brow. lying as i was, within two feet of the orphan's body, sleep departed from my eyes till morning, when in came anderson with the dead board. bacon, noals, anderson and another carried him from my sight. remarks. when i ask the husband to keep his luny wife with him at hoosick falls, he says, "i cannot take care of her." when i pray a sister who has her thousands to keep her foolish sister from ida hill lunatic asylum, she says, "i can't take care of her." (what! not better than kirk was cared for?) chapter vii. john p. bacon, of lansingburgh. bacon is wronged, being held a slave to hard labor. first saw bacon in ida hill lunatic asylum, march 29, 1860, bound to a chair in the hall near the dead-house; heard visitors say to him, "how old are you johnny?" "eighteen," says he. i was removed from the main house to the incurable one july 3, 1862. soon after this he was brought to the same, where he now is, in 1874. john p. bacon's treatment and sufferings by william anderson. after anderson came to the incurable house as attendant, bacon roomed with me most of the time, until i left in 1870, and lodged within three feet of my bed. here i became intimately acquainted with him. in his childhood he had the advantages of the sabbath school; could say the lord's prayer, and repeat many passages of scripture correctly, and, in all probability, was a mild-tempered, well-disposed boy, until he was led away and tempted by the opposite sex, as many of the young and rising generation are before they are aware of the danger. bacon was a great sufferer from self-abuse. behold, what a great fire a little matter kindleth! he became ferocious, uneasy and discontented, unable to govern his mind and person. he was sent to utica asylum; from thence to where he suffered under the hands of william anderson and others in the incurable house of the troy asylum. anderson. anderson is a man about six feet high, well proportioned, of uncommon muscular power. he told me with his own mouth, in 1870, he had been in the troy lunatic asylum sixteen years and had not slept out of the institution one night. (think you he entered as a patient? i do.) he has been kept as attendant and bully fighter many years. he was married to isabella, the magdalen attendant, and when united it seemed as though there was nothing so daring or cruel at times that they could not do. and yet, when my wife came, they seemed so nice and talked so soft it seemed that butter would not melt in their mouths, as the old saying is. the devil says many fine things to bring about his designs and purposes, so do his children. the lord keep me from such a government as the incurable house of the troy lunatic asylum, and all others that i know any thing about. but to my revelation. bacon's sufferings under wm. anderson's cruel hand. as i have stated, bacon lodged within three feet of me, and that for more than three years, bound every night but one, some times one way, and sometimes another, with the asylum harness. bacon was required to work like a slave under a cruel master, at almost all kinds of work, from the wheelbarrow to the dirty work of the chambers, and one winter, night after night and week after week, at a late hour, he came to the room so wet his shirt would have frozen if exposed to frost. what now? anderson puts on his wrists cuffs, aa, and muff, e, then runs strap, b, through staples that are in a and a, locking it around his body, as seen in the engraving, then binds him in bed. later. anderson again. habit a strong power. i have seen bacon at bed-time place on his own wrists cuffs a and a and stand by his bed waiting for anderson to come and put on the remainder of the harness and bind him in bed. again, i have seen anderson many a time whip him upon his naked flesh, with strap b, till his flesh was red as a piece of raw beef, and harnessed and put him to bed as heretofore. but, says one, as did another to me, perhaps he needed whipping. god forbid! no more ought a lunatic to be whipped, or abused, than the fond mother's infant child that creeps to and paddles in the water-pail, carelessly left by her upon her nice carpet. when i last visited the kitchen of the incurable house in 1874 bacon was eating breakfast from off a coal-bin. he is no more luny, but kept as a slave to do drudgery for the benefit of the stockholders of the institution at the expense of tax payers in the county of rensselaer, if i am rightly informed. one of the many sufferings of general schuyler, of west troy. the general was some seventy years of age; a man of wealth; lived an unmarried life; to all appearance a man of bad habits. i think his sins had found him out. he was kept by his respected friends for a long time, at length his guardian paid $10 per week for his board in the troy asylum. he died one night in an adjoining room to mine before i left. i saw him bound at bed-time one night with the accursed harness, and lashed to the bed, his feet being drawn to the foot round and made fast; and as the door was soon to be locked, he exclaims: "mr. anderson! mr. anderson! how long are you going to keep me here?" "all night," says anderson. "water! water!" "can't have any," says anderson; and locks the door, and leaves the general in bonds. isabel's treatment to male and female patients. isabel, the magdalen woman, could not only bind old men and women, but the young and strong. i saw her walk up to a young man by the name of patrick donahue; put on to him the asylum harness. isabel might have been the devil, for aught i know, that donahue was trying to get away from her when he leaped from the window of the third story; as he said when asked why he did so, "_i was trying to get away from the devil_." again i saw this wonderful female come to the men's hall with a skirt in her hand; laid hold of patrick fitzgerald, a young man; stripped off his clothes to his shirt, and put on him a skirt. there was no shame in her; there was no part of a lady in her. treatment of the patient called aunta by isabel. aunta worked in the dining-room through the day. saw isabel put on aunta's night-dress, and that consisted of the asylum harness; then saw isabel go down stairs night after night with her, saying to put her in a crib or lock-up. q. is not this slavery in the first degree? isabel's cruel treatment against miss lawn. i first saw miss lawn in the short hall from the head of the stairs; appeared pleasant and sociable; days passed and i again saw her, but she was much disfigured; she had lost her beautiful head of hair; appeared to be in trouble on that account; talked much about it; months passed on, and i saw her hands bound with the muff, e; not long after saw her with the whole of the harness on, walking in the hall below me, where i first saw her. next, to add to her torture, isabel, the magdalen attendant, fastened her to a window bar in the south hall, where the sun, with all its meridian heat, beamed in upon her. many has been the time since i left the incurable house in 1870, i have visited it merely to ferret out what i could for the benefit of others, taking minutes in my diary. learned of wm. anderson that, in 1873, miss lawn, bridget hamilton, walis and others, to the amount of twenty-two, considered incurable, had been sent to the western part of new york state to a state lunatic asylum. the lord have mercy upon them. the first year i entered the troy asylum, i found in the attendant's room a circular containing the by-laws of the institution. to me, when i read it, there did not appear to be any thing objectionable; the attendants were required to treat their patients kindly. but who knows they do? does these twenty-six governors, under whose direction is this institution? if not, they come short, and will be held amenable at the judgment. an institution is an institution, and a kingdom is a kingdom. and when the righteous are in authority the people rejoice; but when the wicked beareth rule the people mourn. there is a chapel in the main house of the institution where prayer is wont to be made. but what is that to one shut out, more than the passing look of the priests and levites who passed by the wounded man who went from jerusalem down to jericho and fell among thieves; so i fell among thieves on ida hill and was wounded and passed by. i shall now leave this part of my narrative and speak briefly of the vermont state lunatic asylum at brattleborough, and the treatment of a few of the inmates. brattleborough asylum, vt. my ride to brattleborough asylum. in 1843 i visited the vermont asylum, and little did i then think that in 1859 i should have to pass through the iron gate leading from dr. rockwell's office and be shut up with thirty-six lunatics in the third story of that asylum. "be ye also ready, for ye know not what a day brings forth." august 29, 1859, i was partly persuaded by my friends and in part compelled, by others, to go to brattleborough asylum to undergo a course of medical treatment. from this time up to 1870 no person saw a smile on my countenance. in addition to my own spiritual troubles and weakness of body, to be snatched from my home and locked in with such a crew was enough to break one's heart or make many crazy. the day was warm and fine; had a fine shower. after brother b. and myself were seated in the vehicle in came esq. warren who volunteered his services. weak as i was i had no pains or aches until they were brought on by the treatment i received in the asylums. we rode forty miles the first day, the esquire kindly holding a shade over me to keep off the heat of the sun. going through bennington, soon we arrived at the top of the green mountain, where i laid down waiting for refreshment in the fox hotel, in the neighborhood where i preached in the summer of 1841, while attending school at bennington. paul verily thought he was doing god's service when he was persecuting the church; his mind changed. after trying to serve the lord many years i verily thought i should be forever lost, and was unhappy ten years and more. a mistake is no sin, though we suffer by it. but to my story; after we left the hotel we proceeded slowly onward, and when the heavens blackened and the rain descended, we hauled into a barn by the wayside. after the shower we continued our journey onward, and, as is common to nature, the esquire had occasion to leave the wagon; we halted. here, i thought, was a chance to elope and shun the dreaded asylum, but my better judgment forbade it on account of the weakness of my body, and i sat in the wagon. after the esquire returned we made our way onward and arrived in a village some eight or ten miles from brattleborough. here, in the hotel, we staid. supper being over, i was shown to my bed by my guides and the landlord who says "i sleep under this room, if any thing is wanting." two beds in the room, the esquire pushed his against the door. i lay with b., did not sleep sound; was not a strong believer in dreams, but here i saw, in a vision or dream, the bottomless pit, as i thought, while unconscious of all else around me. the unbeliever may argue, there is no place of torment "where the worm dieth not and the fire is not quenched," but christ told his disciples to say, "he that believeth not shall be damned." what i saw in my vision described. here, as i was lying within a few miles of the great and popular institution, vermont asylum, here i saw an awful pit below. naught but the inner side did i see; it was made of fire-brick as it appeared to me, round at the top, broad as the eye could extend, the depth was the same as the breadth at the top, running to a point below. cast one beast into such a pit and where is the bottom for his foot? fill this to the brim and one torments the other. i awoke from my visionary state and the sun was shining through the window from the east. soon i was on my way to that earthly hell, vermont asylum, similar to the troy asylum, that place of torment and slave depot. soon i entered the doctor's office; soon he grabbed my hat with his heavy paw says, "take off your hat"; soon came john white into the doctor's office says, "come," taking me by the arm, and locked me in the third story with thirty-six beast-like men, while tears gushed from my streaming eyes. i shall say but little of my treatment, let it suffice to say, the worst i was used was from attendant white, he kicked me severely when i was a little too slow to suit him when walking out. this i had to do with some two hundred men, bull-dogs and attendants, with clubs in hand. here, i contracted the catarrh and rheumatism by his showering me with cold water in the month of november, night after night. on this hall i became acquainted with atkins, whom i have designated as the lunatic barber. i will name a few others on this hall; atkins, mircells, an old man; a boy called mecheum, joel swain, a mr. reed, john eycleshymer, from pittstown. in this hall i was kept during the four months, lodged in the south-east room with from two to three patients, with thirty-six on the hall through the day. sufferings of mecheum the boy. proverbs. my son, keep my words, and lay up my commandments with thee, that they may keep thee from the strange woman, from the stranger which flattereth with her words. unto you, o men! i call, and my voice is to the sons of man. oh, ye simple, understand wisdom, and ye foolish, be ye of an understanding heart. mecheum came to the asylum after i entered it, roomed with me, was showered in cold water till he became like a skeleton, sat beside me at the table, sometimes refused to eat; attendant pulled his hair at the table to make him eat, and caused a running sore; saw his wound dressed. if mecheum, bacon, scott and other young persons whom i have seen in lunatic asylums, had shunned their seducers, they might have been rejoicing in health, and shunned the fires of an asylum hell. my opportunity to know the secret workings of this institution was limited, only four months stay; not being changed from house to house and room to room as in the troy asylum. i know we had small potatoes and cheap food. asylums are asylums. the young mr. reed. roomed on another hall; knew but little of his treatment, but i know he was showered as severely as mecheum; became pale and poor; could barely walk to his room after pouring four pails of cold water on his head, no alternative, the rattan lay above his head, and he in the hands of his attendant and j. white. joel swain. joel was a young man some twenty-two years of age; he was peaceable and quiet; assisted white to lead a blind man and scrubbing the floor. he once made a wooden false key to our room. i asked if he expected to get out: "yes, some time," said he, "i am going back there some time, if the lord will." the attendant made a mistake, and kept one of my shirts, sending one marked joel swain. swain is not swan, yet a swan may be a little goosey. john eycleshymer, of pittstown. eycleshymer came to the asylum in 1859; think he might justly be classed with those spoken of without the kingdom. his habits were bad, and, no doubt, were the cause of his being in this lunatic hell. for me to undertake to describe this asylum fully would be useless; to say the least it is a monster, and answers to the bottomless pit, i saw in my vision; beneath my window was a pit or yard, with from fifteen to twenty men; some bound; some up, and some down; some with naught but their shirt, and some with none--burnt to the quick by the rays of the sun. in this asylum hell i learn, by hearsay, there were five hundred patients, besides the bull-dog. i suppose the club attendants were reckoned in the number, at least the lunatic barber was, most assuredly. the first night in this asylum i watered my couch with my tears, groaning with groans that could not be uttered; naught but air to encircle in my arms, and no dear wife, thought i, to smooth my pillow. during my four months' stay at brattleborough, my only friend, w. robertson, visited me, and i whispered in his ear and told him they were killing me, and i wanted to go home. on the 29th of november brother b. came, while tears of joy and sorrow were streaming from both my eyes. he asked me if i would like to go home. we were soon seated in the coach, and up we rise the green mountain, and we stopped for the night; and now we are seated in a cutter; and now we are at the fox hotel, again waiting for refreshments; and now the 30th i am at brother b.'s at bed-time; and now at home, sweet home, november, 1859; there is no place like home! in this asylum i was a private patient, my wife and brother paid $2 per week; in troy asylum the county paid $5 per week, if i am rightly informed. if brattleborough institution made $1 per week on my board, what did the stock company of the troy asylum make keeping me and others on shank beef more than nine years in the incurable house. 1. i answer, they wrong tax payers. 2. they wrong the poor. lastly, they wrong themselves. money is the root of all evil, and i fear the prayers of many stockholders connected with lunatic asylums are like the prayers of an aged doctor in vermont, who said to me, in times of health: "i wish there were more sick." said i: "doctor, don't pray for me." troy lunatic asylum incurable house. in this house i lay more than nine years, like persons at home; many a time nigh unto death. in the summer of 1870, i had a long fit of sickness. my wife, my brother b., and brother j. were sent for, and informed i could not live long. during this sickness i was very weak; and, strange as it may seem, it is nevertheless true, my bowels became indisposed, and moved not for thirty-two days. i was under the treatment of dr. lomax. as the cool weather came on, i finally recovered. as i gradually grew strong in body, my mind strengthened. the cloud that hung o'er my mind, during my captivity, gradually disappeared. the sweet singing of the birds was again music to my ears. all nature, which had been shrouded in darkness to me, seemed now to praise the great creator and gladden my heart. after o'donnel destroyed the bible in the main house, familiar passages of scripture seemed to rush upon my mind as though i was reading them. i will give one. rev. chap. ii, verse 17: "he that hath an ear, let him hear what the spirit saith unto the churches. to him that overcometh, will i give to eat of the hidden manna, and will give him a white stone, and in the stone a new name written, which no man knoweth saving he that receiveth it." most of all, this verse seemed to encourage me. my spirits revived, and not a cloud has gathered o'er my mind since. i became talkative, cheerful, and happy. after i had been in the asylum more than ten years, without having an almanac, in 1870, i gave the steward a note with the exact time i entered to a day, saying it would be ten years and six months the 29th of september, and that is to-morrow. i never lost time but once, to my knowledge. i always tried to remember what day of the week the month came in on, then i could say thirty days hath september, and so on, as my mother learnt me when a boy. after i was delivered from the spiritual mistake, and happy, i sought every opportunity to reason with dr. lomax, knowing i must show myself a sane man in his judgment, or stay in the asylum. previous to this, i did not talk with the doctor. i began on scripture reasoning, for here my mind ran from a boy. he is a greek scholar. i asked him if emmanuel was a greek word. i asked some other scripture questions. after a time, he waived the subject, saying he was a doctor; i must ask some clergyman. we had some pleasant interviews, but i perceived he wanted me to do the talking, and that upon pleasing temporal matters, such as telling anecdotes. this i could do, for i was jovial as a hungry pig squealing for his dinner. i mind one. a dutchman, who had spent a fortune by intemperance, after which becoming a good and temperate man, says: "i know more than any dutchman in town." "how is that?" says doctor or haunse, who were standing by. "can't you furstawn, haunse? i have found out that i am a fool." again, a funny joke on the doctor. going into his office: "good morning, doctor," said i. "doctor, do you know where i can get a calve's rennet or a cod-fish to grease my hair?" i asked the doctor how he found me, when i first began to talk with him. he said: "reasonable." brother b. has come for me, this 13th day of october, 1870. "good-bye, doctor; i'm going home--i'm going home." chapter viii. since i left troy lunatic asylum as a patient. more than three years have elapsed since i left the asylum, yet i have often visited it within that time, taking a survey with diary and pen in hand, minuting down names of persons, localities and transactions, to refresh my mind in this direction that i might be better prepared to do justice to my god, the people and myself while wielding the pen in this great and awful disclosure, not forgetful to implore aid from that spirit which guides into all truth. since i left the asylum i have availed myself of books written by different authors who have been shut up in lunatic asylums, whose disclosures correspond with the facts herein set forth in regard to the treatment of patients. rev. h. chase penned out two years and four months of his asylum life spent in utica asylum. i believe it was an oversight in his friends in sending him there. the reverend remarks that he is not aware that anybody in or out of the church looks upon him otherwise than before he went to the institution. i would be glad if i could have as much charity as the reverend. but i have no confidence in the flesh; since i left the asylum my reputation has been encroached upon by the slanderer's tongue, by magistrate, by the foreman in the great mowing machine shop at falls, by grandfathers, behind my back, before children, who have said to me, "grand pa says that you are crazy, and asks when are you going back to the asylum." let those slanderers know we have as much feeling as a toad, and try to become gentlemen. before i went to the asylums as a patient i was totally ignorant of the character and secret workings of these popular institutions. i was also totally ignorant and understood not the different modes and operations practiced in sending patients to insane or lunatic asylums. law, and different modes practiced in sending patients to lunatic asylums. i learned from ex-judge robertson and others the law to send a patient to a lunatic asylum. two physicians examine the patient, pronounce him or her insane, by oath; the county judge being notified to this effect, issues an order and the patient is sent to the smut mill of hell or to a lunatic asylum. it must not be understood that the same mode of operation is practiced in all cases. some patients are supported in the troy institution solely by the county; while others by the patient himself or herself, for instance, as general schuyler, whose guardian paid $10 per week for his board, he died in an adjoining room to me, fared no better than bacon and others (property sold since for $20,000). i entered the brattleborough institution as a private; it was not necessary to consult doctors, judges or jurors; i was a husband; brother b. gave bonds for security; i heard him call for them, and saw the doctor hand them to him before we left; suppose it to have been a wife or a child, it would have been all the same. when brother b. came for me to go home from the troy asylum, october 13, 1870, we met steward harrison. i asked him for my trunk and clothing, but have not as yet obtained it. i shall ask once more. oh! how much i needed my overcoat in the cold fall and winter after i got home, going to and from my shop; i well remember what my wife and daughter said after cordially greeting me, "we don't expect you to do any thing;" thought i, "these feeble women can't support me and themselves with the needle," and i, joking, said to encourage them, "you will see me coming up this hill, with a half barrel of flour on my back" (at the time a pail of water was all i could carry up stairs); sure enough, before january, i surprised my family by sending up the hill a barrel of flour and 160 pounds of pork, besides many other necessaries; these i earned working upon my knees part of the time, and they did not set us back, but came good when i lay sick in january and february, 1872, nigh unto death with inflammation of the lungs; but thanks be to the great giver, in that sickness i had a beloved wife to smooth my pillow, and an affectionate daughter to administer the necessary cordials. * * * * * my daughter writes as follows, before i left the asylum: pittstown, _september 23, 1870_. my dear father,--i received your letter, and was pleased to hear you are better. i will write you a few lines to let you know what we intend to do about having you come home. we are intending to have you come home when dr. lomax says you are well enough and can, and when you come home we will try to make home as pleasant as we can, so try to keep up good courage. please write if you feel able. this from your affectionate daughter, martha a. swan. a word to the people. proverbs 22, 23. buy the truth and sell it not; also wisdom and instruction, and understanding. for a description of my heart-felt sorrow during those ten years of my captivity, read psalm 22. to know my joys and hopes since the cloud passed off, that hung so heavily, long over my mind, read psalm 23. "the lord is my shepherd; i shall not want." "if any one knoweth how to appreciate the blessedness of liberty and good society, i more." "the kingdom of heaven is with men; but without, are dogs and liars, and sorcerers and whoremongers, and he that willeth and maketh a lie." "seek first the kingdom of heaven and its righteousness, and all things shall be added unto you." "the lord god is a sun and a shield, for a day in thy courts is better than a thousand. i had rather be a door-keeper in the house of my god, than to dwell in the tents of wickedness." to prevent any person going to a lunatic asylum as patient wrongfully, i recommend: 1st. that the complainant be required to summon each physician in said town where the defendant lives, these being duly sworn after having examined the accused or defendant in regard to his sanity or insanity. 2d. that this examination be in presence of twelve legal unprejudiced jurors who shall weigh the testimony and decide accordingly in regard to his being a proper subject of a lunatic asylum. 3d. that the defendant or accused, like paul before felix, be permitted to answer for him or herself. -----------------------------------------------------------------------transcriber's notes original spellings and inconsistencies in hyphenation have been retained. minor punctuation errors were corrected on pages 4, 32, 40, 47, 79, 104, 119, and 138. the following apparent typographical errors were corrected. page 23, "to day" changed to "to-day." (i am happy to-day because i listened...) page 24, "encourged" changed to "encouraged." (...my mother often encouraged me to read the bible...) page 52, "belden" changed to "beldon." (... a john beldon, a man who, it was said...) page 67, "conscientiouly" changed to "conscientiously." (...ten years i was conscientiously mistaken...) page 86, "brutual" changed to "brutal." (...were engaged in brutal acts against poor lunatic persons...) page 113, "hoosic" changed to "hoosick." (...keep his luny wife with him at hoosick falls...) page 119, "shirt" changed to "skirt." (...to the men's hall with a skirt in her hand...) page 132, "o'donnell" changed to "o'donnel." (after o'donnel destroyed the bible in the main house...) page 137, "smutmill" changed to "smut mill." (...sent to the smut mill of hell...) [illustration: oliver resents his step-brother's interference.] adrift in the city or _oliver conrad's plucky fight_ by horatio alger, jr. author of "ragged dick" series, "tattered tom" series, "luck and pluck" series the john c. winston co. philadelphia chicago toronto copyright, 1895, by porter & coates. contents. chapter page i. two young enemies, 1 ii. open revolt, 10 iii. the young rivals, 18 iv. mr. kenyon's secret, 28 v. mr. kenyon's resolve, 37 vi. mr. kenyon's change of base, 46 vii. roland's discomfiture, 55 viii. a dangerous letter, 64 ix. oliver's mother, 73 x. the royal lunatic, 82 xi. how the letter was mailed, 92 xii. oliver's journey, 97 xiii. mr. kenyon's plans for oliver, 102 xiv. a store in the bowery, 111 xv. john's courtship, 120 xvi. the conspiracy, 129 xvii. oliver loses his place, 135 xviii. oliver, the outcast, 143 xix. a strange acquaintance, 147 xx. a terrible situation, 156 xxi. roland is surprised, 165 xxii. oliver adopts a new guardian, 175 xxiii. mr. bundy is disappointed, and oliver meets some friends, 184 xxiv. another clue, 193 xxv. making arrangements, 199 xxvi. who rupert jones was, 203 xxvii. a startling telegram, 208 xxviii. old nancy's hut, 213 xxix. dr. fox in pursuit, 222 xxx. how dr. fox was fooled, 231 xxxi. mrs. kenyon finds friends, 240 xxxii. mr. denton of chicago, 249 xxxiii. a midnight attack, 258 xxxiv. denton sees his victims escape, 267 xxxv. on the track, 274 xxxvi. denton is checkmated, 280 xxxvii. denton's little adventure in the cars, 286 xxxviii. the meeting at lincoln park, 296 xxxix. the common enemy, 305 xl. the thunderbolt falls, 314 adrift in the city; or, oliver conrad's plucky fight. chapter i. two young enemies. "oliver, bring me that ball!" said roland kenyon, in a tone of command. the speaker, a boy of sixteen, stood on the lawn before a handsome country mansion. he had a bat in his hand, and had sent the ball far down the street. he was fashionably dressed, and evidently felt himself a personage of no small consequence. the boy he addressed, oliver conrad, was his junior by a year--not so tall, but broader and more thick-set, with a frank, manly face, and an air of independence and self-reliance. he was returning home from school, and carried two books in his hand. oliver was naturally obliging, but there was something he did not like in the other's imperious tone, and his pride was touched. "are you speaking to me?" he demanded quietly. "of course i am. is there any other oliver about?" "when you ask a favor, you had better be polite about it." "bother politeness! go after that ball! do you hear?" exclaimed roland angrily. oliver eyed him calmly. "go for it yourself," he retorted. "i don't intend to run on your errands." "you don't?" exclaimed roland furiously. "didn't i speak plainly enough? i meant what i said." "go after that ball this instant!" shrieked roland, stamping his foot; "or i'll make you!" "suppose you make me do it," said oliver contemptuously, opening the gate, and entering the yard. roland had worked himself into a passion, and this made him reckless of consequences. he threw the bat in his hand at oliver, and if the latter had not dodged quickly it would have seriously injured him. at the same time roland rushed impetuously upon the boy who had offended him by his independence. to say that oliver kept calm under this aggravated attack would be incorrect. his eyes flashed with anger. he threw his books upon the lawn, and put himself in an instant on guard. a moment, and the two boys were engaged in a close struggle. roland was taller, and this gave him an advantage; but oliver was the more sturdy and agile. he clasped roland around the waist, lifted him off his feet, and laid him, after a brief resistance, on the lawn. "you'd better not attack me again!" he said, looking with flushed face at his fallen foe. roland was furious. he sprang to his feet and flung himself upon oliver, but with so little discretion that the latter, by a well-planted blow, immediately felled him to the ground, and, warned by the second attack, planted his knee on roland's breast, thus preventing him from rising. "let me up!" shrieked roland furiously, struggling desperately but ineffectually. "will you let me alone, then?" "no, i won't!" returned roland, who in his anger lost sight of prudence. "then you may lie there till you promise," said oliver composedly. "get up, you bully!" screamed roland. "you are the bully. you attacked me, or i should never have touched you," said oliver. "i'll tell my father," said roland. "tell, if you want to," said oliver, his lip curling. "he'll have you well beaten." "i don't think he will." "so you defy him, then?" "no; i defy nobody. but i mean to defend myself from violence." "what's the matter with you two boys? oliver, what are you doing?" the speaker was mr. kenyon's gardener, john bradford, a sensible man and usually intelligent. oliver often talked with him, and treated him respectfully, as he deserved. roland was foolish enough to look down upon him because he was a poor man and occupied a subordinate position. oliver rose from the ground and let up his adversary. "we have had a little difficulty, mr. bradford," he said. "roland may tell you if he likes." "what is the trouble, roland?" enquired the gardener. "none of your business!" answered roland insolently. "you are very polite," said the gardener. "i don't feel called upon to be polite to my father's hired man," remarked roland unpleasantly. "if he won't answer your question, i will," said oliver. "roland commanded me to run and get his ball, and i didn't choose to do it. he attacked me, and i defended myself. that is all there is about it." "no, it isn't all there is about it," said roland passionately. "you have insulted me, and you are going to be flogged. you may just make up your mind to that." "how have i insulted you?" "you threw me down." "suppose i hadn't. what would have happened to me?" "i would have whipped you if you hadn't taken me by surprise." oliver shrugged his shoulders. apparently roland didn't propose to renew the fight. oliver watched him warily, suspecting a sudden attack, but it was not made. roland turned toward the house, merely discharging this last shaft at his young conqueror: "you'll get it when my father gets home." "your ball is in the road," said the gardener. "it will be lost." "no, it won't. oliver will have to bring it in yet." "i am afraid he means mischief, oliver," said the gardener, turning to our hero as roland slammed the front door upon entering. "i suppose he does," said oliver quietly. "it isn't the first attempt he has made to order me around." "he is a very disagreeable boy," said bradford. "he is the most disagreeable boy i know," said oliver. "i can get along with any of the other boys, except jim cameron, his chosen friend. he's pretty much the same sort of fellow as roland--only, not being rich, he can't put on so many airs." "you talk of roland being rich," said the gardener. "he has no right to be called so." "his father has property, i suppose?" "mr. kenyon was poor enough when he married your mother. all the property he owns came from her." "is that true, mr. bradford?" asked oliver thoughtfully. "yes; didn't you know it?" "i have sometimes thought so." "there is no doubt about it. it excited a good deal of talk--your mother's will." "did she leave all her property to mr. kenyon, john?" "so he says, and he shows a will that has been admitted to probate." oliver was silent for a moment. then he spoke: "if my mother chose to leave all to him, i have not a word to say. she had a right to do as she pleased." "but it seems singular. she loved you as much as any mother loves her son; yet she disinherited you." "i will not complain of anything she did, mr. bradford," said oliver soberly. "suppose she didn't do it, master oliver?" "what do you mean, mr. bradford?" asked the boy, fixing his eyes upon the gardener's face. "i mean that there are some in the village who think there has been foul play--that the will is not genuine." "do you think so, mr. bradford?" "knowing your mother, and her love for you, i believe there's been some fraud practised, and that mr. kenyon is at the bottom of it." "i wish i knew," said oliver. "it isn't the money i care about so much, but i don't like to think that my mother preferred mr. kenyon to me." "wait patiently, oliver; it'll all come out some day." just then roland appeared at the front door and called out, in a tone of triumphant malice: "come right in, oliver; my father wants to see you." oliver and the gardener exchanged glances. then the boy answered: "you may tell your father i am coming," and walked quietly toward the front door. "i've told him all about it," said roland. "are you sure you have told your father all?" "yes, i have." "that's all i want. if you have told him all, he must see that i am not to blame." "you'll find out. he's mad enough." oliver knew enough of his step-father to accept this as probable. "now, for it," he thought, and followed roland into his father's presence. chapter ii. open revolt. benjamin kenyon, the father of roland and oliver's step-father, was a man of fifty or more. he had a high narrow forehead, small eyes, and a scanty supply of coarse black hair rimming a bald crown with a fringe in the shape of a horse-shoe. his expression was crafty and insincere. a tolerable judge of physiognomy would at once pronounce him as a man not to be trusted. he turned upon oliver with a frown, and said harshly: "how dared you assault my son roland!" "it was he who assaulted me, mr. kenyon," answered oliver quietly. "do you deny that you felled him to the earth twice?" "i threw him over twice, if that is what you mean, sir." "if that is what i mean! don't be impertinent, sir." "i have not been--thus far." "do you think i shall allow you to make a brutal assault upon my son, you young reprobate?" "if you call me by that name again i shall refuse to answer you," said oliver with spirit. "do you hear that, father?" interrupted roland, anxious to prejudice his father against his young enemy. "i hear it," said mr. kenyon; "and you may rely upon it that i shall take notice of it, too. so you have no defence to make, then?" this last question was, of course, addressed to oliver. "i will merely state what happened, mr. kenyon. roland had batted his ball far out on the road. he ordered me to go for it, and i refused." "you refused?" "yes, sir." "and why?" "because i am not subject to your son's orders." "it is because you are selfish and disobliging." "no, sir. if roland had asked me, as a favor, to get the ball, i would have done it, being nearer to it than he, but i did not choose to obey his orders." "he has a right to order you about," said mr. kenyon, frowning. "i don't admit it," said oliver. "is he not older than you?" "yes, sir." "then you must obey him?" "i am sorry to differ with you, mr. kenyon, but i cannot see it in that light." "it makes very little difference in what light you see it," sneered mr. kenyon. "i command you to obey him!" roland listened with triumphant malice, and nodded his head with satisfaction. "do you hear that?" he said insolently. oliver eyed him calmly. "yes, i hear it," he said. "then you'd better remember it next time." "where is the ball now?" asked mr. kenyon. "in the street." "oliver, you may go and get it, and bring it to roland." roland laughed--a little low, chuckling laugh that was very exasperating to oliver. our hero's naturally pleasant face assumed a firm and determined expression. he was about to make a declaration of independence. "do you ask me to go for this ball as a favor?" he asked, turning to his step-father. "no," returned the latter harshly. "i command you to do it without question, and at once." "then, sir, much as i regret it, i must refuse to obey you." oliver was pale but firm. mr. kenyon's face, on the contrary, was flushed and angry. "do you defy me?" he roared furiously. "i defy no one, sir, but you require me to do what would put me in the power of your son. if i consented, there would be no end to his attempts to tyrannize over me." "are you aware that i am your natural guardian, sir--that the law delegates to me supreme authority over you, you young reprobate?" demanded mr. kenyon, working himself into an ungovernable passion. oliver did not reply. "speak, i order you!" exclaimed his step-father, stamping his foot. "i did not speak sooner because you called me a young reprobate, sir. i answer now that i will sooner leave your house and go out into the world to shift for myself than allow roland to trample upon me and order me about like a dog." "enough of this! roland, go downstairs and get my cane." "i'll go," said roland, with alacrity. it was a welcome commission. smarting with a sense of his own recent humiliating defeat, nothing could be sweeter than to see his victorious adversary beaten in his own presence. of course he understood that it was for this purpose his father wanted the cane. there was silence in the room while roland was gone. oliver was rapidly making up his mind what he would do. roland ran upstairs with the cane. "here it is, father," he said, extending it to mr. kenyon. "i will give you one more chance, oliver," said his step-father. "you have insulted my son and rebelled against my authority, but i do not want to proceed to violence unless i am absolutely obliged to. i command you once more to go and get roland's ball." "if you command me, sir, i must answer as i did before--i must refuse." roland looked relieved. he feared that oliver would yield, and so escape the beating he was anxious to witness. "aint he impudent!" he ejaculated. "are you going to stand that, father?" "no, i am not," said mr. kenyon grimly. "i will make him repent bitterly his rebellious course. come here, sir--or no," and a smile lighted up his face, "it is more befitting that your punishment should come from the one whom you have insulted. roland, take the cane and give oliver a dozen strokes with it." "you'll back me up, won't you?" asked roland cautiously. "yes, i will back you up. there is nothing to fear." "i guess father and i'll be a match for him," thought the brave roland. he took the cane and advanced toward oliver with it uplifted. "if you touch me it will be at your peril!" said oliver, pale but firm. roland looked at his father, and received a nod of encouragement. he hesitated no longer, but, with a look of triumphant spite, lifted the cane and rushed toward oliver. it did not fall where it was intended, for, with a spring, oliver wrested it from his grasp and threw it out of the window. then, without a word, leaving father and son gazing into each other's faces with mingled wrath and dismay, he left the room. "are you going to allow this, father?" asked roland in a tone of disappointment. "oliver doesn't pay you the least respect." mr. kenyon was not a brave or a resolute man. he was a man capable of petty tyranny, but one to be cowed by manly opposition. it occurred to him that in seeking to break oliver's spirit, he had undertaken a difficult task. so he hardly knew what to say. "shall i run after him?" asked roland. "no," said his father. "i will take a little time to consider what is to be done with him. i'll make him rue this day, you may depend upon it." "i hope you will," said roland. "i don't mind so much about myself," he added artfully, "but i hate to see him treat you so." "i'll break his proud spirit," said mr. kenyon, biting his lip. "i'll find a way, you may depend upon it." chapter iii. the young rivals. when oliver left the house he was uncertain whither to bend his steps. the supper hour was near at hand, but it would hardly be pleasant under the circumstances to meet his step-father and roland at the tea-table. he preferred to go without his evening meal. as he walked slowly along the main street on which his step-father's house was situated, plunged in thought, he was called to himself by a slap on his shoulder. "what are you thinking about, oliver?" was asked, in a cheery voice. "frank dudley!" said our hero, "you're just the boy i want to see." "do i owe you any money?" asked frank, in mock alarm. "not that i know of." "then it's all right. i am glad to meet you, too. where are you going?" "i don't know." "have you had supper?" "no." "then come home with me. you haven't taken supper at our house for a long time." "so i will," responded oliver with alacrity. "i see how it is," said frank. "they were going to send you to bed without your supper, and my invitation brings you unexpected relief." "you are partly right. but for your invitation i should have had no supper." "what is it all about, oliver? what's the matter?" "i'll tell you, frank. mr. kenyon and i have had a quarrel." "i am not surprised at that. i don't admire the man, even if he is your step-father." "oh, you needn't check your feelings on my account. i never could like him." "how did the trouble begin?" "it began with roland. i'll tell you about it," and oliver told what had occurred. frank listened in silence. "i think you did right," he said. "i wouldn't submit to be ordered round by such a popinjay. he's the most disagreeable boy i know, and my sister thinks so, too." "he seems to admire your sister." "she doesn't appreciate his attentions. he's always coming up and wanting to walk with her, though she is cool enough with him." oliver was glad to hear this. to tell the truth, he had a boyish fancy for carrie dudley himself, which was not surprising, for she was the prettiest girl in the village. though he had not supposed she looked favorably upon roland, it was pleasant to be assured of this by the young lady's brother. "poor roland!" he said, smiling. "your sister may give him the heartache." "oh, i guess his heart's pretty tough. but here we are." frank dudley's father was a successful physician. his mother was dead, and her place in the household was supplied by his father's sister, miss pauline dudley, who, though an old maid, had a sunny temperament and kindly disposition. the doctor's house, though not as pretentious as mr. kenyon's, was unusually pleasant and attractive. "aunt pauline," said frank to his aunt, who was sitting on a rocking chair on the front piazza, "i have brought oliver home to supper." "i am very glad to see you, oliver," said miss dudley. "i wish you would come oftener." "thank you, miss dudley; i am always glad to come here. it is so pleasant and social compared with----" he paused, thinking it not in good taste to refer unfavorably to his own home. "i understand," said miss dudley. "you must be lonely at home." "i am," said oliver briefly. "not much company, and that poor," whispered frank. oliver nodded assent. here carrie dudley appeared and cordially welcomed oliver. "carrie seems glad to see you, oliver," said frank; "but you must not feel too much elated. it's only on account of your relationship to roland. she's perfectly infatuated with that boy." like most brothers, frank liked to tease his sister. "roland!" repeated carrie, tossing her head. "i hope i have better taste than to like him." "it's all put on, oliver. you mustn't believe what she says." "didn't i see roland walking with you yesterday?" asked oliver, willing to join in the teasing. "because i couldn't get rid of him," retorted carrie. "he thinks you are over head and ears in love with him," said frank. "i don't believe he thinks anything of the kind. if he does, he is very much mistaken; that is all i can say." "don't tease your sister any more, frank," said oliver. "i don't believe she admires roland any more than i do." "thank you, oliver. i am glad to have you on my side," said the young lady graciously. "i shouldn't mind if i never saw roland kenyon." "stop your quarrelling, young people, and walk in to supper," said miss pauline. "where is your father to-night, frank?" asked oliver, as they ranged themselves round the neat supper table. "he has been sent for to claremont. he won't be back till late, probably. you will please look upon me as the head of the household while he is away." "i will, most learned doctor." the evening meal passed pleasantly. oliver could not help contrasting it with the dull and formal supper he was accustomed to take at home, and his thoughts found utterance. "i wish i had as pleasant a home as you, frank." "you had better come and live with us, oliver." "i should like to." "suppose you propose it to mr. kenyon. i don't believe he prizes your society very much." "nor i. he wouldn't mind being rid of me, but roland would probably object to my coming here." "i didn't think of that." "i should like to have you with us, oliver," said miss pauline. "you would be company for frank, and could help keep him straight." "as if i needed it, aunt pauline! all the same, i should enjoy having oliver here, and so would carrie." "yes, i should," said the young lady unhesitatingly. oliver was well pleased, and expressed his satisfaction. after supper they adjourned to the parlor, and presently carrie sat down to the piano and played and sang some popular songs, frank and oliver joining in the singing. while they were thus engaged a ring was heard at the door-bell. "that's roland, i'll bet a hat," said frank. "it's one of his courting evenings." it proved to be roland. he entered with a stiff bow. "good-evening, miss carrie," he said, a little awkwardly. "good-evening, mr. kenyon," said the young lady distantly. "will you be seated?" "thank you. good-evening, frank." "good-evening. may i introduce you to mr. oliver conrad?" "you here?" said roland, surprised. being near-sighted, he had not before noticed our hero's presence. "i am here," said oliver briefly. "we were singing as you entered, roland," said frank mischievously. "won't you favor us with a melody?" "i don't sing," said roland stiffly. "indeed! oliver is quite a singer." "i was not aware he was so accomplished," said roland, unable to suppress a sneer. "i suppose he doesn't often sing to you." "i shouldn't like to trouble him. i should be very glad to hear you sing, miss carrie." "if frank and oliver will join in. i don't like to sing alone." a song was selected, and the three sang it through. sitting at the other end of the room, roland, who greatly admired carrie, was tormented with jealousy as he saw oliver at her side, winning smiles and attention which he had never been able to win. he could not help wishing that he, too, were able to sing. if oliver had made himself ridiculous, it would have comforted him, but our hero had a strong and musical voice, and acquitted himself very creditably. "it's a pity you don't sing, roland," said frank. "i wouldn't try to sing unless i could sing well," said roland. "is he hitting you or me, oliver?" asked frank. "you sing well," said roland. "then it's you, oliver!" oliver smiled, but took no notice of the remark. roland rose to go a little after nine. he had not enjoyed the evening. it was very unsatisfactory to see the favor with which his enemy was regarded by carrie dudley. he had not the art to conceal his dislike of our hero. "you'd better come home," he said, turning to oliver. "father objects to our being out late." "i know when to come home," said oliver briefly. "you'd better ask leave before you go out to supper again." "if you have no more to say i will bid you good-evening," said oliver quietly. "you see what a pleasant brother i have," said oliver after roland's departure. "it's a good thing to have somebody to look after you," said carrie. "i wish frank had such a guardian and guide." "i shall have, when roland is my brother-in-law," retorted frank. "then you'll have to go without one forever." "girls never say what they mean, oliver." "sometimes they do." meanwhile roland was trudging home in no very good humor. "i'd give fifty dollars to see oliver well thrashed," he muttered. "he is interfering with me in everything." chapter iv. mr. kenyon's secret. while this rivalry was going on between oliver and roland, mr. kenyon, remaining at home, had had a surprise and a disagreeable one. at half-past seven roland left the house. at quarter to eight the door-bell rang, and mr. kenyon was informed that a gentleman wished to see him. he was looking over some business papers and the interruption did not please him. "who is it?" he demanded impatiently. "a gentleman." "so i suppose. what is his name?" "he is a stranger, sir, and he didn't give me his name. he said he wanted to see you partic'lar." "well, you may bring him up," said mr. kenyon, folding up his papers with an air of resignation. he looked up impatiently as the visitor entered, and straightway a look of dismay overspread his countenance. the visitor was a dark-complexioned man of about forty-five, with bushy black whiskers. "dr. fox!" ejaculated mr. kenyon mechanically. the visitor chuckled. "so you know me, mr.---ahem! mr. kenyon. i feared under the circumstances you might have forgotten me." "how came you here?" demanded kenyon abruptly. "a little matter of business brought me to new york, and a matter of curiosity brought me to this place." "how did you trace me to--to brentville?" asked mr. kenyon, with evident uneasiness. "i suppose that means you didn't wish to be traced, eh?" "and suppose i did not?" "i am really sorry to have disturbed you, mr. crandall--i beg pardon, kenyon; but i thought you might like to hear directly from your wife." "for heaven's sake, hush!" exclaimed kenyon, looking round him nervously. he rose, and, walking to the door, shut it, first peering into the hall to see if anyone were listening. dr. fox laughed again. "it's well to be cautious," he said. "i quite approve of it--under the circumstances, mr. kenyon," he proceeded, leering at him with unpleasant familiarity. "you're a deep one! i give you credit for being deeper than i supposed. you've played your cards well, that's a fact." mr. kenyon bit his finger-nails to the quick in his alarm and irritation. he would like to have choked the man who sat before him, if he had dared, and possessed the requisite strength. "you only made one mistake, my dear sir. you shouldn't have tried to deceive me. you should have taken me into your confidence. you might have known i would find out your little game." "dr. fox," said mr. kenyon, frowning, "your tone is very offensive. you will bear in mind that you are addressing a gentleman." "ho! ho!" laughed the visitor. "i really beg pardon," he said, marking the dark look on the face of the other. "no offence is intended. in fact, i was rather expressing my admiration for your sharpness. it was an admirable plan, that of yours." "i don't care for compliments. why have you sought me out?" "a moment's patience, mr. kenyon. i was about to say crandall--force of habit, sir. as i remarked, it was a capital plan to commit your wife to an insane asylum, and then take possession of her property. did you have any difficulty about that, by the way?" "none of your business!" snapped mr. kenyon. "i am naturally a little curious on the subject." "confound your curiosity!" "and so--ho! ho!--you are popularly regarded as a widower? perhaps you have reared a monument in the cemetery to the dear departed? ho! ho!" "this is too much, sir!" exploded kenyon, in wrath. "drop this subject, or i may do you a mischief." "you'd better think twice before you permit your feelings to overmaster you," said the stranger significantly. "that's an ugly secret i possess of yours. what would the good people of brentville say if they knew that your wife, supposed to be dead, is really confined in an insane asylum, while you, without any sanction of law, are living luxuriously on her wealth? i think, mr. kenyon, they would be very apt to lynch you." "you have nothing to complain of, at least. you are well paid for the care of--of the person you mention." "i am paid my regular price--that is all, sir." "is not that enough?" "under the circumstances, it is not." "why not?" "do you need to ask? to begin with, your wife----" "hush!" said kenyon nervously. "call her mrs. crandall." "mrs. crandall, if you will. well, mrs. crandall is as sane as you are." "then she is less trouble." "not at all! she is continually imploring us to release her. it is quite a strain upon our feelings, i do assure you." "your feelings!" repeated kenyon disdainfully. dr. fox laughed. "really," he said, "i am quite affected at times by her urgency." "does she--ever mention me?" asked mr. kenyon slowly. "yes, but it wouldn't flatter you to hear her. she speaks of you as a cruel tyrant, who has separated her from her boy. his name is oliver, isn't it?" "yes." "she mourns for him, and prays to see him once more before she dies." "is her physical health failing?" enquired kenyon, with sudden hopefulness. "no; that is the strangest part of it. she retains her strength. apparently she is determined to husband her strength, and resolved to live on in the hope of some day being restored to her son." mr. kenyon gnawed his nails more viciously than before. it had been his cherished hope that the wife whom he had so cruelly consigned to a living death would succumb beneath the accumulated weight of woe, and relieve him of all future anxiety by dying in reality. the report just received showed that such hopes were fallacious. "well, sir," he commenced, after a brief pause. "i do not wish to prolong this interview. tell me why you have tracked me here? what is it you require?" "the fact is, mr. kenyon,--you'll excuse my dropping the name of crandall,--i want some money." "a month since i paid, through my agent, your last quarterly bill. no more money will be due you till the 1st of december." "i want a thousand dollars," said the visitor quietly. "what!" ejaculated kenyon. "i want a thousand dollars before i leave brentville." "you won't get it from me!" "consider a moment, mr. crandall,--i mean mr. kenyon,--the result of my publishing this secret of yours. i understand that your wife's property, which you wrongfully hold, amounts to a quarter of a million of dollars. if all were known, your step-son oliver and his mother would step into it, and you would be left out in the cold. disagreeable, very! can't you introduce me to oliver?" mr. kenyon's face was a study. he was like a fly in the meshes of a spider, absolutely helpless. "if i give you a check," he said, "will you leave brentville at once?" "first thing to-morrow morning." "can't you go before?" "not conveniently. the next town is five miles away, and i don't like night travel." mr. kenyon opened his desk and hastily dashed off a check. "now," said he, "leave, and don't come back." "you waive ceremony with a vengeance, mr. kenyon," said the visitor, depositing the check in his pocket-book with an air of satisfaction. "permit me to thank you for your liberality." as he was about to leave the room roland dashed in. the two looked at each other curiously. "is this oliver?" asked dr. fox. "no, it is my son roland. good-evening." "i am glad to make the young gentleman's acquaintance. hope he'll inherit his father's virtues, ha, ha!" "who is that, father?" asked roland when the visitor had retired. "a mere acquaintance, roland--a man with whom i have had a little business." "i don't like him." "nor i. but i must bid you good-night, my son. i am tired and need rest." "i wanted to speak to you about oliver." "we will defer that till morning." "good-night, then!" and roland left his father a prey to anxieties which kept him awake for hours. chapter v. mr. kenyon's resolve. mr. kenyon felt that a sword was impending over his head which might at any time fall and destroy him. four years before he had married mrs. conrad, a wealthy widow, whose acquaintance he had made at a saratoga boarding-house. why mrs. conrad should have been willing to sacrifice her independence for such a man is one of the mysteries which i do not pretend to solve. i can only record the fact. oliver was away at the time, or his influence--for he never fancied mr. kenyon--might have turned the scale against the marriage. mr. kenyon professed to be wealthy, but his new wife never was able to learn in what his property consisted or where it was located. shortly after marriage he tried to get the management of his wife's property into his own hands; but she was a cautious woman,--a trait she inherited from scotch ancestry,--and, moreover, she was devotedly attached to her son oliver. she came to know mr. kenyon better after she had assumed his name, and to distrust him more. three months had not passed when she bitterly repented having accepted him; but she had taken a step which she could not retrace. she allowed mr. kenyon a liberal sum for his personal expenses, and gave a home to his son roland, who was allowed every advantage which her own son enjoyed. further than this she was not willing to go, and mr. kenyon was, in consequence, bitterly disappointed. he had supposed his wife to be of a more yielding temperament. so matters went on for three years. then mr. kenyon all at once fancied himself in very poor health, at any rate he so represented. he induced a physician to recommend travelling, and to urge the importance of his wife accompanying him. she fell into the trap, for it proved to be a trap. the boys were left at home, at a boarding school, and mr. and mrs. kenyon set out on their travels. they sailed for cuba, where they remained two months; then they embarked for charleston. in the neighborhood of charleston mr. kenyon was enabled at length to carry out his nefarious design. he made the acquaintance of dr. fox, an unprincipled keeper of a private insane asylum, and left mrs. kenyon in his charge, under the name of mrs. crandall, with the strictest orders that under no circumstances should she be permitted to leave the asylum. three months from the time of his departure he reappeared in brentville, wearing deep mourning--a widower. according to his account, mrs. kenyon had been attacked by a malignant fever, and died in four days. he also produced a will, made by his wife, conveying to him absolutely her property, all and entire. the only reference to her son oliver was couched in these terms: "i commend my dear son oliver to my husband's charge, fully satisfied that he will provide for him in all ways as i would myself, urging him to do all in his power to promote my dear oliver's welfare, and prepare him for a creditable and useful position in the world." but for this clause doubts would have been expressed as to the genuineness of the will. as it was, it was generally supposed to be authentic, but mrs. kenyon was severely criticised for reposing so much confidence in her husband, and leaving oliver wholly dependent upon him. it was a great blow to oliver,--his mother's death,--and the world seemed very lonely to him. besides, he could not fail to notice a great difference in the manner of mr. kenyon and roland toward him. the former laid aside his velvety manner and assumed airs of command. he felt secure in the position he had so wrongfully assumed, and hated oliver all the more because he knew how much he had wronged him. roland, too, was quick to understand the new state of things. he was older than oliver, and tried to exact deference from him on that account. his father had promised to make him his chief heir, and both had a tacit understanding that oliver was to be treated as a poor relation, with no money and no rights except such as they might be graciously pleased to accord. but oliver did not fit well into this rã´le. he was too spirited and too independent to be browbeaten, and did not choose to flatter or fawn upon his step-father though he did bear the purse. the outbreak recorded in the first chapter would have come sooner had oliver been steadily at home. but he had spent some weeks in visiting a cousin out of town, and was thus saved from a conflict with roland. soon after he came home the scene already described took place. thus far things had gone to suit mr. kenyon. but the arrival of dr. fox, and his extortionate demand, with the absolute certainty that it would be followed at frequent intervals by others, was like a clap of thunder in a clear sky. henceforth peril was imminent. at any time his wife might escape from her asylum, and appear on the scene to convict him of conspiracy and falsehood. this would mean ruin. at any time dr. fox, if his exactions were resisted, might reveal the whole plot, and this, again, would be destruction. if not, he might be emboldened, by the possession of a damaging secret, to the most exorbitant demands. these thoughts worried mr. kenyon, and robbed him of sleep. what should he, or could he do? two things seemed desirable--to get rid of oliver, and to leave brentville for some place where neither dr. fox nor his injured wife could seek him out. the more he thought of this way out of the difficulty the better he liked it. there was nothing to bind him to brentville except the possession of a handsome place. but this comprised in value not more than a tenth part of his--that is, his wife's--possessions. why should he not let or, still better, sell it, and at once and forever leave brentville? there were no friendly ties to sunder. he was not popular in the village, and he knew it. he was popularly regarded as an interloper, who had no business with the property of which he had usurped the charge. neither was roland liked, as much on his own account as on his father's, for he strutted about the village, turning up his nose at boys who would have been better off than himself in a worldly point of view but for his father's lucky marriage, and declining to engage in any game in which the first place was not accorded to him. it was very different with oliver. he was born to be popular. though he possessed his share of pride, doubtless, he never showed it in an offensive manner. no poor boy ever felt ill at ease in his company. he was the life and soul of the playground, though he obtained an easy pre-eminence in the schoolroom. "oliver is worth a dozen of roland!" was the common remark. "what a pity he was left dependent on his step-father!" the last remark was often made to oliver himself, but it was a subject which he was not willing to discuss. it seemed to him that he would be reproaching his mother, to find fault with the provision she had made for his future. it did seem to him, however, in his secret heart, that his mother had been misled by too blind a confidence in his step-father. "i wish she had left me only one-quarter of the property, and left it independent of him," he thought more than once. "she couldn't know how disagreeable it would be to me to be dependent upon him." oliver thought this, but he did not say it. the thought came to him again as he walked home from the house of frank dudley, twenty minutes after roland had travelled over the same road. "i wonder whether mr. kenyon will be up," he asked himself, as he rang the bell. "if he is, i suppose i must make up my mind for another volley. how different it was when my poor mother was alive!" the door was opened by maggie, the servant. "has roland come home?" he asked. "yes, mr. oliver; he is in bed by this time." "that's good!" thought oliver. "is mr. kenyon up?" "no, mr. oliver. did you wish to see him?" "oh, no," said oliver, feeling relieved. "i only enquired out of curiosity. you'd better shut up the house, maggie." "i was going to, mr. oliver." oliver took his lamp and went up slowly to bed. his room was just opposite to roland's, which adjoined the apartment occupied by his father. remembering the scene of the previous day, oliver expected it would be renewed when he met his stepfather and roland at breakfast in the morning. such, also, was the expectation of roland. he wanted oliver to be humiliated, and fully anticipated that he would be. what, then, was the surprise of the two boys when mr. kenyon displayed an unusually gracious manner at table! chapter vi. mr. kenyon's change of base. "good-morning, oliver," he said pleasantly, when our hero entered the room. "good-morning, sir," returned oliver in surprise. "we missed you at supper last evening," continued the step-father. "yes, sir; i took supper at dr. dudley's," explained oliver, not quite certain whether this would be considered satisfactory. "dr. dudley is a very worthy man," said mr. kenyon. "his son is about your age, is he not?" "yes, sir." "he has a daughter, also--rather a pretty girl." "i believe roland thinks so," said oliver, glancing at his step-brother. "roland has taste, then," said mr. kenyon. "you two boys mustn't quarrel about the young lady." "i shan't quarrel," said roland stiffly. "there are plenty other girls in this world." "you are a philosopher, i see," said his father. roland felt that this had gone far enough. why should his father talk pleasantly to oliver, who had defied his authority the day before? if this went on, oliver would be encouraged in his insubordination. he felt that it was necessary to revive the subject. "i expect my ball is lost," he said in an aggrieved tone. "what ball?" asked his father. "the ball i batted out into the road yesterday afternoon." "probably someone has picked it up," said mr. kenyon, proceeding to open an egg. roland was provoked at his father's coolness and unconcern. "if oliver had picked it up for me it would not have been lost," he continued, with a scowl at our hero. "if you had picked it up yourself, wouldn't it have answered the same purpose?" roland stared at his father in anger and dismay. could he really mean it? had he been won over to oliver's side? oliver, too, was surprised. he began to entertain a much more favorable opinion of his step-father. "didn't you tell oliver to pick it up yesterday afternoon?" demanded roland, making a charge upon his father. "yes, i believe i did." "well, he didn't do it." "he was wrong, then," said mr. kenyon mildly. "he should have respected my authority." "i'll go and look for it directly breakfast is over," said oliver, quite won over by mr. kenyon's mildness. "it wouldn't be any use," said roland. "i've been looking for it myself this morning, and it isn't there." "of course, it wouldn't stay there all night," said mr. kenyon. "it has, no doubt, been picked up." "aint you going to punish oliver for disobeying you?" burst out the disappointed roland. oliver turned to his step-father with interest to hear his answer. "no, roland. on second thought, i don't think it was his place to go for the ball. you should have gone after it yourself." oliver smiled to himself with secret satisfaction. he had never thought so well of his step-father before. he even felt better disposed toward roland. "why didn't you ask me politely, roland?" he said. "then we should have saved all this trouble." "because i am older than you, and you ought to obey me." "i can't agree with you there," said oliver composedly. "come, boys, i can't allow any quarrelling at the table," said mr. kenyon, but still pleasantly. "i don't see why we can't live together in peace and quietness." "if he will only be like that all the time," thought oliver, "there will be some pleasure in living with him. i am only afraid it won't last. what a difference there is between his manner to-day and yesterday." oliver was destined to be still more astonished when breakfast was over. he had known for some time that roland was better supplied with money than himself. in fact, he had been pinched for the want of a little ready money more than once, and whenever he applied to mr. kenyon, he was either refused or the favor was grudgingly accorded. to-day, as he rose from the table, mr. kenyon asked: "how are you off for pocket-money, oliver?" "i have twenty-five cents in my pocket," said oliver with a smile. "then it is about time for a new supply?" "if you please, sir." mr. kenyon took a five-dollar bill from his pocket, and passed it over to our hero. "thank you, sir," said oliver, with mingled surprise and gratitude. "how much did you give him?" asked roland crossly. "the same that i give you, my son;" and mr. kenyon produced another bill. roland took the bill discontentedly. he was not satisfied to receive no more than oliver. "i think," he said to our hero, "you ought to buy me a new ball out of your money." oliver did not reply, but looked toward mr. kenyon. "i will buy you a new ball myself," he said. "there is no call for oliver to buy one, unless he wants one for his own use." "if you will excuse me, sir," said oliver respectfully, "i will get ready to go to school." "certainly, oliver." roland and his father were left alone. "it seems to me you've taken a great fancy to oliver all at once," said roland. "what makes you think so?" "you take his part against me. didn't you tell him yesterday to go after my ball?" "yes." "to-day you blame me for not going myself. you reward him for his impudence besides by giving him five dollars." mr. kenyon smiled. "so my conduct puzzles you, does it?" he inquired complacently. "yes, it does. i should think oliver was your son instead of me." "have i not treated you as well as oliver?" "i think you ought to treat me better, considering i am your own son," grumbled roland. "i have good reasons for my conduct," said mr. kenyon mysteriously. "what are they?" "you are a boy, and it is not fitting i should tell you everything." "you aint afraid of oliver, are you?" demanded roland bluntly. mr. kenyon smiled pleasantly, showing a set of very white teeth as he did so. "really, that is amusing," he answered. "what on earth should make me afraid of oliver?" "i don't see what other reason you can have for backing down as you have." "listen, roland. there is more than one way of arriving at a result, but there is always one way that is wiser than any other. now it would not be wise for me to treat oliver in such a way as to create unfavorable comment in the village." "what do you care for what people in the village think?" asked roland bluntly. "haven't you got the money?" "yes." "and oliver hasn't a cent?" "he has nothing except what i choose to give him." "good!" said roland with satisfaction. "i hope you don't mean to give him as much as you do me," he added. "not in the end. just at present i may." "i don't see why you should." "then you must be content to take my word for it, and trust to my judgment. in the end you may be assured that i shall look out for your interests, and that you will be far better off than oliver." with this promise roland was measurably satisfied. the thing that troubled him was that oliver seemed to have triumphed over him in their recent little difference. perhaps, could he have fathomed his step-father's secret designs respecting oliver, he would have felt less dissatisfied. mr. kenyon was never more to be dreaded than when he professed to be friendly. chapter vii. roland's discomfiture. on the way to school oliver overtook frank dudley. "well, oliver, how's the weather at home?" asked frank. "cloudy, eh?" "no; it's all clear and serene." frank looked astonished. "didn't mr. kenyon blow you up, then?" he asked. "not a bit of it. he gave me a five-dollar bill without my asking for it." "what's come over him?" asked frank in amazement. "his mind isn't getting affected, is it?" oliver laughed. "not that i know of," he said. "i don't wonder you ask. i never saw such a change come over a man since yesterday. then he wanted roland to flog me. now he is like an indulgent parent." "it's queer, decidedly. i hope, for your sake, it'll hold out." "so do i. roland doesn't seem to fancy it, though. he tried hard to revive the quarrel of yesterday, but without success." "he's an amiable cub, that roland." "do you speak thus of your future brother-in-law?" "carrie would sooner be an old maid a dozen times over than give any encouragement to such a fellow." all of which was pleasant for oliver to hear. mr. kenyon was not through with his surprises. two weeks before, roland had a new suit of clothes. oliver's envy had been a little excited, because he needed new clothes more than his step-brother, but he was too proud to give expression to his dissatisfaction or to ask for a similar favor. on the way home from school, in company with frank dudley, oliver met mr. kenyon. "are you just coming home from school, oliver?" asked his step-father pleasantly. "yes, sir." "i have told mr. crimp, the tailor, to measure you for a new suit of clothes. you may as well call in now and be measured." "thank you, sir," said oliver, in a tone of satisfaction. what boy ever was indifferent to new clothes? "have you selected the cloth, sir?" he asked. "no; you may make the selection yourself. you need not regard the price. it is best to get a good article." mr. kenyon waved his hand, and smiling pleasantly, walked away. "look here, oliver," said frank, "i begin to think you have misrepresented mr. kenyon to me. such a man as that tyrannical! why, he looks as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth." "i don't know what to make of it myself, frank. i never saw such a change in a man, if he'll keep on treating me like this i shall really begin to like him. will you come to the tailor's with me?" "willingly. it'll be the next thing to ordering a suit for myself." the tailor's shop was near by, and the boys entered, with their school-books in their hands. oliver, with his friend's approval, selected a piece of expensive cloth, and was measured for a suit. as they left the shop they fell in with roland, who, cane in hand, was walking leisurely down the main street, cherishing the complacent delusion that he was the object of general admiration. "hallo, frank!" he said, by way of greeting. to oliver he did not vouchsafe a word. frank dudley nodded. "are you out for a walk?" he added. "yes." "have you been into crimp's?" "yes." "been ordering new clothes?" enquired roland, with interest, for he was rather a dandy, and was as much interested in clothes as a lady. "i haven't. oliver has." roland arched his brows in displeasure. "have you ordered a suit of clothes?" he enquired. "i have," answered oliver coldly. "who authorized you to do it?" "it is none of your business," said oliver, justly provoked at the other's impertinence. "it is my father's business," said roland. "i suppose you expect to pay for them." "the bill won't be sent to you, at any rate. you may be assured of that. come on, frank." the two boys walked off, leaving roland in front of the tailor's shop. "i'll go in and see what he's ordered," thought he. "if it's without authority i'll tell my father, and he'll soon put a spoke in his wheel." "good-evening, crimp," said he consequentially. considering the tailor quite beneath him he dispensed with any title. "good-evening," returned the tailor. "oliver has ordered a suit here, hasn't he?" "yes; he just ordered it." "will you show me the cloth he selected?" "if you wish." mr. crimp displayed the cloth. roland was enough of a judge to see that it was high priced. "it's nice cloth. is it expensive?" "it's the best i have in stock." roland frowned. "is it any better than the suit you made me a short time since?" "it is a little dearer." "why didn't you show me this, then? i wanted the best." "because it has come in since." "look here, crimp," said roland, "you'd better wait till you hear from my father before you begin on this suit." "why should i?" "i don't believe he will allow oliver to have such a high-priced suit." mr. crimp had had orders from mr. kenyon that very afternoon to follow oliver's directions implicitly, but he did not choose to say this to roland. the truth was, he was provoked at the liberty the ill-bred boy took in addressing him without a title, and he didn't see fit to enlighten him on this point. "you must excuse me," he said. "oliver has ordered the suit, and i shall not take such a liberty with him as to question his order." "i rather think my father will have something to say about that," said roland. "i presume you expect him to pay your bill." "the bill will be paid; i am not afraid of that. why shouldn't it be?" "you may have to depend on oliver to pay it himself." "well, he has money enough, or ought to have," said the tailor significantly. "his mother left a large property." roland did not like the turn the conversation was taking, and stalked out of the shop. "crimp is getting impudent," he said to himself. "if there was another good tailor in the village i would patronize him." however, roland had one other resource, and this consoled him. "i'll tell my father, and we'll see if he don't put a stop to it," he thought. "oliver will find he can't do just as he likes. i wish crimp would make the suit, and then father refuse to pay for it. it would teach him a lesson." roland selected the supper-table for the revelation of what he supposed to be oliver's unauthorized conduct. "i met oliver coming out of crimp's this afternoon," he commenced. oliver did not appear alarmed at this opening. he continued to eat his toast in silence. as no one said anything, roland continued: "he had just been ordering a new suit of clothes." "did you find any cloth to suit you, oliver?" asked mr. kenyon. "yes, sir, i found a very nice piece." "i should think it was nice. it was the dearest in crimp's stock!" said roland. "how do you know?" asked oliver quickly. "crimp told me so." "then you went in and enquired," said oliver, his lip curling. "yes, i did." "i am glad you selected a good article, oliver," said mr. kenyon quietly. "it will wear longer." roland stared at his father in open-mouthed amazement. he so fully anticipated getting oliver into hot water that his father quite disconcerted him. "his suit is going to be better than mine," he grumbled, in a tone of vexation. "that is your own fault. why didn't you select the same cloth?" asked his father. "it is some new cloth that has just come in." "you can make it up next time," said mr. kenyon; "your suit seems to me to be a very nice one." this was all the satisfaction roland got. the next day he met mr. crimp in the street. "well, does your father object to oliver's order?" he asked with a smile. roland was too provoked to notice what he regarded as an impertinent question. chapter viii. a dangerous letter. there are some men who seem to be utterly destitute of principle. these are the men who in cold blood show themselves guilty of the most appalling crimes if their interest requires it. they are more detestable than those who, a prey to strong passion, are hurried into the commission of acts which in their cooler moments they deeply regret. to the first class belonged mr. kenyon, who, as we have already seen, had committed his wife to the horrible confinement of a mad-house that he might be free to spend her fortune. hitherto he had not injured oliver, though he had made his life uncomfortable; but the time was coming when our hero would be himself in peril. it was because he foresaw that oliver might need to be removed that he began to treat him with unusual indulgence. "should anything happen," he said to himself, "this will disarm suspicion." the time came sooner than he anticipated. action was precipitated by a most unlooked for occurrence, which filled the soul of the guilty husband with terror. one day he stopped at the post-office to enquire for letters. "there is no letter for you, mr. kenyon, but here is one for oliver. will you take it?" mr. kenyon was curious to learn with whom his step-son corresponded, and said: "yes, i will take it." it was put into his hands. no sooner did he scan the handwriting and the postmark than he turned actually livid. it was in the handwriting of his wife, whom all the world supposed to be dead, and it was postmarked charleston. "good heavens! what a narrow escape!" he ejaculated, the perspiration standing in large drops on his brow. "suppose oliver had received this letter, i might have been lynched. i must go home and consider what is to be done. how could dr. fox be so criminally--idiotically careless as to suffer such a letter to leave his establishment?" mr. kenyon hurried home, much perturbed. on the way he met roland, who could not help observing his father's agitation. "what is the matter, father?" he enquired carelessly, for he cared very little for anyone but himself. "i have a sick headache," said his father abruptly. "i am going home to lie down." roland made no further enquiries, and mr. kenyon gained the house without any other encounter. he went up to his own room and locked himself in. then he took out his pocket-knife and cut open the envelope. the letter was as follows: my dear oliver: this letter is from your unhappy mother, who is languishing in a private mad-house, the victim of your step-father's detestable machinations. oh, oliver, how can i reveal to you the hypocrisy and the baseness of that man, whom in an evil hour i accepted as the successor of your dear father. it was not because i loved him, but rather because of his importunity, that i yielded my assent to his proposals. i did not know his character then. i did not know, as i do now, that he only wanted to secure my property. he professed himself to be wealthy, but i have reason to think that in this, as in other things, he deceived me. when we came south he pretended that it was on account of his health, and i unsuspectingly fell into the snare. i need not dwell upon the details of that journey. enough that he lured me here and placed me under the charge of a dr. fox, a fitting tool of his, under the plea that i was insane. i am given to understand that on his return to the north mr. kenyon represented me as dead. such is his art that i do not doubt his story has been believed. perhaps you, my dearest son, have mourned for me as dead. if this be so, my letter will be a revelation. i have been trying for a long time to get an opportunity to write you, but this is the first time i have met with success. i do not yet know if i can get it safely to the mail, but that is my hope. when you receive this letter consult with friends whom you can trust, and be guided by their advice. do what you can to rescue me from this living death. do not arouse the suspicions of mr. kenyon if you can avoid it. he is capable of anything. my dear son, my paper is exhausted, and i dare not write more, at any rate, lest i should be interrupted and detected. heaven bless you and restore you to my longing sight. your loving mother, margaret conrad. mr. kenyon's face darkened, especially when his attention was drawn to the signature. "conrad! so she discards my name!" he muttered. "fortunately the object of this accursed letter will not be attained, nor will oliver have an opportunity of making mischief by showing it to the neighbors." mr. kenyon lighted a candle and deliberately held the dangerous letter in the flame till it was consumed. "there," he said, breathing a sigh of relief, "that peril is over. but suppose she should write another?" again his face wore an expression of nervous apprehension. "i must write to dr. fox at once," he mused, "and warn him to keep close guard over his patient. otherwise i may have to dread an explosion at any time." he threw himself into an easy chair and began to think over the situation. the man was alert and watchful. danger was at hand, and he resolved to head it off at any hazard. meanwhile oliver had occasion to pass the post-office on his way home from school. thinking there might be a letter or paper for his step-father, he entered and made enquiry. "is there anything for us, mr. herman?" he said. "no," said the postmaster, adding jocularly: "isn't one letter a day enough for you?" "i have received no letter," answered oliver, rather surprised. "i gave a letter to mr. kenyon for you this morning." "oh, i haven't been home from school yet," said oliver. "i suppose it is waiting for me there." "very likely. it looked to be in a lady's handwriting," added the postmaster, disposed to banter oliver, who was a favorite with him. "i can't think who can have written it, then," said our hero. at first he thought it might be from an intimate boy friend of about his own age, but the postmaster's remark seemed to render that unlikely. we all like to receive letters, however disinclined we may be to answer them. oliver was no exception in this respect. his desire to see the letter was increased by his being quite unable to conjecture who could have written to him in a feminine handwriting. as soon, therefore, as he reached home, he enquired for mr. kenyon. "he's in his room, mr. oliver," said the servant. "did he leave any letter for me, maggie?" "i didn't hear of any, mr. oliver." "then he's got it upstairs, i suppose." oliver went up the stairs and knocked at mr. kenyon's door. the latter had now recovered his wonted composure, and called out to him to enter. "i heard you had a letter for me, mr. kenyon," said oliver abruptly. again mr. kenyon looked disturbed. he had hoped that oliver would hear nothing of it, and that no enquiry might be made. "who told you i had a letter for you?" "the postmaster." mr. kenyon saw that it was useless to deny it. "yes, i believe there was one," he said carelessly. "where could i have put it?" he began to search his pockets; then he looked into the drawers of his desk. "i don't remember laying it down," he said slowly. "in fact, i don't remember seeing it since i got home. i may have dropped it in the road." "won't you oblige me by looking again, sir?" asked oliver, disappointed. mr. kenyon looked again, but, of course, in vain. "it may turn up," he said at length. "not that it was of any importance. it looked like a circular." "mr. herman told me it was in feminine handwriting," said oliver. "oho! that accounts for your anxiety!" said mr. kenyon, with affected jocularity, "come, i'll look again." but the letter was not found. oliver did not fail to notice something singular in his step-father's manner. "has he suppressed my letter?" he asked himself, as he slowly retired from the room. "what does it all mean?" "he suspects me," muttered mr. kenyon, "he is in my way, and i must get rid of him." chapter ix. oliver's mother. it is time to introduce oliver's mother, who was suffering such cruel imprisonment within the walls of a mad-house. it was by a subterfuge she had first been induced to enter the asylum of dr. fox. her husband had spoken of it as a boarding-school under the charge of an old friend of his. "i think, my dear," he said, as they dismounted at the gate, "that you will be interested to look over the institution, and i know it will afford my friend great pleasure to show it to you." "i dare say i shall find it interesting," she answered, and they entered. dr. fox met them at the door. he had received previous notice of their arrival, and a bargain had been struck between mr. kenyon and the doctor. a meaning look was exchanged between them which mrs. kenyon did not notice. "i have brought my wife to look over your establishment, doctor," said mr. kenyon. "i don't think it is worth looking at," said the doctor, "but i shall be very glad to show it. will you come upstairs?" they were moving up the main staircase when a loud scream was heard from above, proceeding from one of the insane inmates. "what is that?" asked mrs. kenyon, stopping short and turning pale. mr. kenyon bit his lip. he feared that his wife would suspect too soon the character of the institution. but dr. fox was prepared for the question. "it is poor tommy briggs," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "he is in the sick-ward." "but what is the matter with him?" asked mrs. kenyon, shuddering as another wild shriek was borne to her ears. "he has fits," answered the doctor. "ought he to be here, then?" "he has them only at intervals, say once a month. to-morrow he will be all right again." mrs. kenyon accepted this explanation without suspicion. "how old is he?" she asked. "fifteen." "about the age of oliver," she remarked, turning to her husband. "or roland." "what a misfortune it must be to have a boy so afflicted! how i pity his poor mother!" "come up another flight, please," said dr. fox. "we will begin our examination there." they went up to the next story. dr. fox drew a bunch of keys from his pocket, and applying one to the door opened it. "do you keep them locked in?" asked mrs. kenyon, surprised. "this is one of the dormitories," answered the doctor, who never lost his self-possession. "come in, please." it was a large square room. in one corner was a bed, surrounded by curtains. in the opposite corner was another bed--a cot. "sit down one moment, mrs. kenyon," said the doctor. "i want to call a servant." he left the room, and mr. kenyon followed him. the two men regarded each other with a complacent smile. "well, it's done," said the doctor, rubbing his hands. "she walked into the trap without any suspicion or fuss." "you'd better lock the door," said mr. kenyon nervously. the doctor did so. "now," said he, "if you will follow me downstairs we will attend to the business part of the matter." "willingly," said kenyon. the business referred to consisted of the payment of three months' board in advance. "now, dr. fox," said his new patron, "you may rely upon punctual payment of your bills. on your part, i depend on your safe custody of my wife as long as her mind remains unsound." "and that will be a long time, i fancy," said the doctor, laughing. mr. kenyon appreciated the joke, and laughed too. "i must leave you now," he said. "i hope you won't have much trouble with her." "oh, have no anxiety on that score," said the doctor nonchalantly. "i am used to such cases; i know how to manage." the two men shook hands, and mr. kenyon left the asylum a free man. "so far, well," he said, when he was in the open air. "at last--at last, i am rich! and i mean to enjoy my wealth!" mrs. kenyon remained in the seat assigned her for two or three minutes. then she began to wonder why her husband and the doctor did not return. "it's strange they leave me here so long," she said to herself. then she rose and went to the door. she tried to open it, but it resisted her efforts. "what does this mean?" she asked herself, bewildered. she turned, and was startled by seeing a tall woman, in a long calico robe, in the act of emerging from the curtained bed. the woman had long hair, which, unconfined, descended over her shoulders. her features wore a strange look, which startled and alarmed mrs. kenyon. "how did you get into my room?" asked the woman sharply. "is this your room?" asked mrs. kenyon, unable to remove her eyes from the strange apparition. "yes, it is my audience chamber," was the reply. "why are you here?" "i hardly know," said mrs. kenyon hurriedly. "i think there must be some mistake. i would go out if i could, but the door is locked." "they always lock it," said the other composedly. "do you live here?" asked mrs. kenyon nervously. "oh, yes, i have lived here for five hundred years, more or less." "what!" exclaimed mrs. kenyon, terror-stricken. "i said more or less," repeated the woman sharply. "how can i tell within fifty years? do you know who i am?" "no." "you have often heard of me," said the other complacently. "the whole world has heard about me. i am queen cleopatra." mrs. kenyon knew where she was now. she realized it with a heart full of horror. but what could it mean? could mr. kenyon have left her there intentionally? in spite of all she had learned about it she could hardly credit it. "what place is this, tell me?" she implored. "i'll tell you," said the woman, "but you mustn't tell," she added, with a look of cunning. "i've found it all out. it's a place where they send crazy people." "good heaven!" "they are all crazy here--all but me," continued cleopatra, to call her by the name she assumed. "i am only here for my health," she continued. "that's what the doctor tells me, though why they should keep me so long i cannot understand. sometimes i suspect----" "in heaven's name, what?" the woman advanced toward mrs. kenyon, who shrank from her instinctively, and whispered: "they want to separate me and mark antony," she said. "i am convinced of it, though whether it's cã¦sar or my ministers who have done it i can't tell. what do you think?" she demanded, fixing her eyes searchingly upon mrs. kenyon. "i don't know," answered mrs. kenyon, shrinking away from her. "you needn't be afraid of me," said cleopatra, observing the movement. "i am not crazy, you know. i am perfectly harmless. are you crazy?" "heaven forbid!" exclaimed mrs. kenyon with a shudder. "they all say so," said cleopatra shrewdly, "but they are all crazy except me. do you hear that?" there was another wild shriek, proceeding from a room on the same floor. "who is it?" asked mrs. kenyon, in alarm. "it's crazy nancy," answered cleopatra. "she thinks she's the wife of henry viii., and she is always afraid he will have her executed. it's queer what fancies these people have," added cleopatra, laughing. "how unconscious she is of her infirmity!" thought mrs. kenyon. "i hope she's never violent." "is there a bell here?" she asked. "what for?" "i wish to ring for the doctor and my husband." "ho! ho! do you think they would notice your ringing?" "do you think they mean to leave me here?" asked mrs. kenyon, with a gasp of horror. "to be sure they do. the doctor told me this morning he was going to give me a nice, agreeable room-mate." the full horror of her situation was revealed to the unfortunate woman, and she sank upon the floor in a swoon. chapter x. the royal lunatic. when mrs. kenyon recovered from her swoon, she saw dr. fox bending over her. "you are recovering," he said. "you mustn't give way like this, my good madam." it all came back to her--her desertion, and the terrible imprisonment which awaited her. "where is my husband--where is mr. kenyon?" she demanded imperatively. dr. fox shrugged his shoulders. "i wish you to send him here at once, or to take me to him." "quite impossible, my dear madam. he has gone." "mr. kenyon gone, and left me here!" "it is for your own good, my dear madam. i hope soon to restore you to him." it was as she expected, and the first shock being over, she took the announcement calmly. but her soul was stirred with anger and resentment, for she was a woman of spirit. "this is all a base plot," she said scornfully. "has mr. kenyon--have you--the assurance to assert that my mind is disordered?" "unhappily there is no doubt of it," said the doctor, in a tone of affected regret. "your present excitement shows it." "my excitement! who would not be excited at being entrapped in such a way? but i quite comprehend mr. kenyon's motives. how much does he pay you for your share in this conspiracy?" "he pays your board on my usual terms," said dr. fox composedly. "i have agreed to do my best to cure you of your unhappy malady, but i can do little while you suffer yourself to become so excited." his tone was significant, and contained a menace, but for this mrs. kenyon cared little. she had been blind, but she was clear-sighted now. she felt that it was her husband's object to keep her in perpetual imprisonment. thus only could his ends be attained. she was silent for a moment. she perceived that craft must be met with craft, and that it was best to control her excitement. she would speak her mind, however, to avoid being misunderstood. "i will not judge you, dr. fox," she said. "possibly mr. kenyon may have deceived you for his own purposes. if you are really skilled in mental diseases you will soon perceive that i am as sane as you are yourself." "when i make that discovery i will send you back to your husband," said the doctor with oily suavity. "i shall never return to my husband," said mrs. kenyon coldly. "i only ask to be released. i hope your promise is made in good faith." "certainly it is; but, my dear madam, let me beg you to lay aside this prejudice against your husband, who sincerely regrets the necessity of your temporary seclusion from the world." mrs. kenyon smiled bitterly. "i understand mr. kenyon probably better than you do," she said. "we won't discuss him now. but if i am to remain here, even for a short time, i have a favor to ask." "you may ask it, certainly," said the doctor, who did not, however, couple with the permission any promise to grant the request. "or, rather, i have two requests to make," said mrs. kenyon. "name them." "the first is, to be supplied with pens, ink, and paper, that i may communicate with my friends." "meaning your husband?" "he is not my friend, but i shall address one letter to him." "very well. you shall have what you require. you can hand the letters to me, and i will have them posted." "you will not read them?" "it is our usual rule to read all letters written from this establishment, but in your case we will waive the rule, and allow them to go unread. what is your second request?" "i should like a room alone," said mrs. kenyon, glancing at cleopatra, who was sitting on the side of the bed listening to the conversation. "i am sorry that i can't grant that request," said the doctor. "the fact is, my establishment is too full to give anyone a single room." "but you won't keep me in the same room with a----" "what do you call me?" interrupted cleopatra angrily. "do you mean to say i am crazy? you ought to feel proud of having the queen of egypt for a room-mate. i will make you the mistress of the robes." all this was ludicrous enough, considering the shabby attire of the self-styled queen, but mrs. kenyon did not feel in a laughing humor. she did not reply, but glanced meaningly at the door. "i am sure you will like cleopatra," he said, adding, with a wink unobserved by the egyptian sovereign, "she is the only sane person in my establishment." cleopatra nodded in a tone of satisfaction. "you hear what he says?" she said, turning to mrs. kenyon. the latter saw that it was not wise to provoke one who would probably be her room-mate. "i don't object to her," she said; "but to anyone. give me any room, however small, so that i occupy it alone." "impossible, my dear madam," said her keeper decisively. "i can assure you that cleopatra, though confined here for political reasons," here he bowed to the royal lunatic, "never gives any trouble, but is quite calm and patient." "thank you, doctor," said cleopatra. "you understand me. did you forward my last letter to mark antony?" "yes, your majesty. i have no doubt he will answer it as soon as his duties in the field will permit." "where is he now?" "i think he is heading an expedition somewhere in asia minor." "very well," nodded cleopatra. "as soon as a letter comes, send it to me." "at once," said the doctor. "you must look after this lady, and cheer her up." "yes, i will. what is your name?" "my name used to be conrad. you may call me that." she shrank from wearing the name of the man who had confined her in this terrible asylum. "that isn't classical. i will call you claudia--may i?" "you may call me anything you like," said mrs. kenyon wearily. "when will you send me the paper and ink?" she asked. "they shall be sent up at once." ten minutes later, writing materials were brought. anxious to do something which might lead to her release, she sat down and wrote letters to two gentlemen of influence with whom she was acquainted, giving the details of the plot which had been so successfully carried out against her liberty. cleopatra watched her curiously. presently she said: "will you let me have a sheet of your paper? i wish to write a letter to mark antony." "certainly," said mrs. kenyon, regarding her with pity and sympathy. the other seated herself and wrote rapidly, in an elegant feminine hand, which surprised mrs. kenyon. she did not know that the poor lady had once been classical teacher in a prominent female seminary, and that it was a disappointment in love which had alienated her mind and reduced her to her present condition. "shall i read you the letter?" she enquired. "if you like." it was a very well written appeal to her imaginary correspondent to hasten to her and restore her to her throne. "i thought," said mrs. kenyon cautiously, "that mark antony died many centuries ago." "quite a mistake, i assure you. who could have told you such nonsense, claudia?" demanded cleopatra sharply. "you are quite sure, then?" "of course. you will begin to say next that cleopatra is dead." "i thought so." "that is because i have remained here so long in concealment. the world supposes me dead, but the time will come when people will learn their mistake. have you finished your letters?" "yes." "when they send us our supper you can send them to the doctor." "will he be sure to post them?" asked mrs. kenyon, with a natural suspicion. "of course. doesn't he always send my letters to mark antony?" this was not as satisfactory as it might have been. "have you ever received any answers?" asked mrs. kenyon. "here is a letter from mark antony," said cleopatra, taking a dirty and crumpled note from her pocket. "read it, claudia." this was the note: fair cleopatra: i have read your letter, my heart's sovereign, and i kiss the hand that wrote it. i am driving the enemy before me, and hope soon to kneel before you, crowned with laurels. be patient, and soon expect your captive, mark antony. "is it not a beautiful letter?" asked cleopatra proudly. "yes," said mrs. kenyon, feeling it best to humor her delusion. chapter xi. how the letter was mailed. several months passed, and mrs. kenyon remained in confinement. she was not badly treated, except in being vigilantly guarded, and prevented from making her escape. dr. fox always treated her with suavity, but she felt that though covered with velvet his hand was of iron, and that there was little to hope for from him. he never made any objection to her writing letters, but always insisted on their being handed to him. it was not long before she began seriously to doubt whether the letters thus committed to him were really mailed, since no answers came. one day she asked him abruptly: "why is it, dr. fox, that i get no answers to my letters?" "i suppose," he answered, "that your friends are afraid you may be excited, and your recovery retarded, by hearing from them." "has my--has mr. kenyon reported that i am insane?" "undoubtedly." "false and treacherous!" she exclaimed bitterly. "why was i ever mad enough to marry him?" dr. fox shrugged his shoulders. "really," he said, "i couldn't pretend to explain your motives, my dear madam. women are enigmas." "are my letters regularly mailed, dr. fox?" asked mrs. kenyon searchingly. "how can you ask such a question? do you not commit them to me?" "so does cleopatra," said mrs. kenyon, who had fallen into the habit of addressing her room-mate by the name she assumed. "do you forward her letters to mark antony?" "does she doubt it?" asked the doctor, bowing to the mad queen. "no, doctor," replied cleopatra promptly. "i have the utmost faith in your loyalty, and it shall be rewarded. i have long intended to make you lord high baron of the nile. let this be the emblem." in a dignified manner cleopatra advanced toward dr. fox, and passed a bit of faded ribbon through his button-hole. "thanks, your majesty," said the doctor. "your confidence is not misplaced. i will keep this among my chief treasures." cleopatra looked pleased, and mrs. kenyon impatient and disgusted. "he deceives me as he does her, without doubt. it is useless to question him further." from this time she sedulously watched for an opportunity to write a letter and commit it to other hands than the doctor's. but, that he might not suspect her design, she also wrote regularly, and placed the letters in his hands. one day the opportunity came. a young man, related to cleopatra, visited the institution. he understood very well the character of his aunt's aberration, but was surprised to be told that the quiet lady who bore her company was also crazy. "what is the nature of her malady?" he enquired of the doctor. "is she ever violent?" "oh, no." "she seems rational enough." "so she is on all points except one." "what is that?" "she thinks her husband has confined her here in order to enjoy her property. in point of fact she has no property and no husband." "that is curious. why, then, does she require to be confined?" "probably she will soon be released. she has improved very much since she came here." "i am glad my aunt has so quiet a companion." "yes, they harmonize very well. they have never disagreed." during one of mr. arthur holman's visits mrs. kenyon managed to slip into his hands a sealed letter. "will you have the kindness," she asked quickly, "to put this into the post-office without informing the doctor?" "i will," he answered readily. "poor woman!" he thought to himself. "it will gratify her, and her letter will do no harm." "i shall have to be indebted to your kindness for a postage-stamp," she said. "i cannot obtain them here." "oh, don't mention it," he said. "you will be sure not to mention this to the doctor?" said mrs. kenyon earnestly. "on my honor as a gentleman." "i believe you," she said quietly. this was the letter, directed to oliver, which found its way into the hands of mr. kenyon, and occasioned him so much uneasiness. chapter xii. oliver's journey. the more oliver thought about it, the stranger it seemed to him that the letter intended for him should have been lost. in spite of mr. kenyon's plausible explanations, he felt that it had been suppressed. but why? he could conceive of no motive for the deed. he had no secret correspondent, nor had he any secret to conceal. he was quite at sea in his conjectures. he could not help showing by his manner the suspicion he entertained. mr. kenyon did not appear to notice it, but it was far from escaping his attention. he knew something about character reading, and he saw that oliver was very determined, and, once aroused, would make trouble. "there is only one way," he muttered, as he furtively regarded the grave look on the boyish face of his step-son. "there is only one way, and i must try it!" he felt that there was daily peril. any day another letter might arrive at the post-office, and it might fall this time into oliver's hands. true, he had received a letter from dr. fox, in which he expressed his inability to discover how the letter had been mailed without his knowledge, but assuring mr. kenyon that it should not happen again. "i shall not hereafter allow your wife the use of writing materials," he said. "this will remove all danger." still mr. kenyon felt unsettled and ill at ease. in spite of all dr. fox's precautions, a letter might be written, and this would be most disastrous to him. "oliver," said mr. kenyon one evening, "i have to go to new york on business to-morrow; would you like to go with me?" "yes, sir," said oliver promptly. to a country boy, who had not been in new york more than half a dozen times in the course of his life, such a trip promised great enjoyment, even where the company was uncongenial. "we shall probably remain over night," said his step-father. "i don't think i can get through all my business in one day." "all the better, sir," said oliver. "i never stopped over night in new york." "then you will enjoy it. if i have a chance i will take you to the theatre." "thank you, sir," said oliver, forgetting for the moment his prejudice against his step-father. "is roland going?" he asked. "no," answered mr. kenyon. oliver stared in surprise. it seemed strange to him that he should be offered an enjoyment of which roland was deprived. "i can't undertake to manage two boys at a time," said mr. kenyon decisively. "roland will have to wait till the next time." "that's queer," thought oliver, but he did not dwell too much on the thought. he was too well satisfied with having been the favored one, for this time at least. roland was not present when his father made this proposal, but he soon heard of it. his dissatisfaction may well be imagined. what! was he, mr. kenyon's own son, to be passed over in favor of oliver? he became alarmed. was he losing his old place, and was oliver going to supplant him? to his mind oliver had of late been treated altogether too well, and he did not like it. he rushed into his father's presence, his cheeks pale with anger. "what is this i hear?" he burst out. "are you going to take oliver to new york, and leave me at home?" "yes, roland, but----" "then it's a mean shame. anyone would think he was your son, and not i." "you don't understand, roland. i have an object in view." "what is it?" asked roland, his curiosity overcoming his anger. "it will be better for you in the end, roland. you don't like oliver, do you?" "no. i hate him." "you wouldn't mind if he didn't come back, would you?" "is that what you mean, father?" asked roland, pricking up his ears. "yes. i am going to place him in a cheap boarding-school where he will be ruled with a rod of iron. of course oliver doesn't understand that. he thinks only that he is going to take a little trip to new york. your presence would interfere with my plans, don't you see?" "that's good," chuckled roland with malicious merriment. "do they flog at the school he's going to?" "with great severity." "ho! ho! he'll get more than he bargains for. i don't mind staying at home now, father." "hope you'll have a good time, oliver," said roland, with a chuckle, when oliver and his father were on the point of starting. "how lonely i'll feel without you!" oliver thought it rather strange that roland should acquiesce so readily in the plan which left him at home, but it soon passed away from his mind. chapter xiii. mr. kenyon's plans for oliver. soon after they were seated in the cars, bound for new york, mr. kenyon remarked: "perhaps you are surprised, oliver, that i take you with me instead of roland." oliver admitted that he was surprised. "the fact is," said mr. kenyon candidly, "i don't think roland treats you as well as he should." oliver was more and more surprised. "i don't complain of roland," he said. "i don't think he likes me, but perhaps that is not his fault. we are quite different." "still he might treat you well." "don't think of that, mr. kenyon; roland has never done me any serious harm, and if he proposed to do it, i am able to take care of myself." oliver did not say this in an offensive tone, but with manly independence. "you are quite magnanimous," said mr. kenyon. "i am just beginning to appreciate you. i own that i used to have a prejudice against you, and it is possible i may have treated you harshly; but i have learned to know you better. i find you a straightforward, manly young fellow." "thank you, sir," said oliver, very much astonished. "i am afraid you do me more than justice. i hope to retain your good opinion." "i have no doubt you will," said mr. kenyon, in a quiet and paternal tone. "you have probably noticed that my manner toward you has changed of late?" "yes, sir, i have noticed the change, and been glad to see it." "of course, of course. now, i have got something to tell you." oliver naturally felt curious. "i want to tell you why i have brought you to new york to-day. you probably thought it was merely for a pleasant excursion." "yes, sir." "i have another object in view. noticing as i have the dislike--well, the incompatibility between you and roland, i have thought it best to make separate arrangements for you." now oliver was strangely interested. what plan had mr. kenyon formed for him? "i intend you to remain in the city. how does that suit you?" there are not many boys of oliver's age to whom such a prospect would not be pleasing. he answered promptly: "i should like it very much." "no doubt roland will envy you," said mr. kenyon. "i am sure he would prefer the city to our quiet little country village. but i cannot make up my mind to part with him. he is my own son, and though i endeavor to treat you both alike, of course that makes some difference," said mr. kenyon, in rather an apologetic tone. "of course it does," said oliver, who did not feel in the least sensitive about his step-father's superior affection for roland. "where am i to live in the city?" he asked next. "there are two courses open to you," said mr. kenyon. "you might either go to some school in the city or enter some place of business. which would you prefer?" had oliver been an enthusiastic student, he would have decided in favor of school. he was a good scholar for his age, but, like all boys, he fancied a change. it seemed to him that he would like to obtain a business position, and he said so. his step-father anticipated this, and wished it. had oliver decided otherwise, he would have exerted his influence to have him change his plan. "perhaps you are right," said mr. kenyon meditatively. "a bright, smart boy like you, is, of course, anxious to get to work and do something for himself. besides, business men tell me that it is always best to begin young. how old are you?" "almost sixteen," answered oliver. "i was only fourteen when i commenced business. yes, i think you are right." "is it easy to get a position in the city?" asked oliver, getting interested. "not unless you have influence; but i think i have influence enough to secure you one." "thank you, sir." "in fact, i know of a party who is in want of a boy--an old acquaintance of mine. he will take you to oblige me." "what business is he in?" "he has a gentlemen's furnishing store," answered mr. kenyon. "do you think that business is as good as some other kinds?" said oliver dubiously. "it is a capital business," said his step-father emphatically. "pays splendid profits." "who is the gentleman you refer to?" enquired oliver, with natural interest. "well, to be frank with you, it is a nephew of my own. i set him up in business three years ago, and he has paid back every cent of my loan with interest out of the profits of his business. i can assure you it is a paying business." "i would judge so, from what you say," returned oliver thoughtfully. somehow he felt disappointed to learn that the employer proposed to him should be a relation of his step-father. this, however, was not an objection he could very well express. "suppose i should not like business," he suggested, "could i give it up and go to school?" "certainly," answered mr. kenyon. "bear in mind, oliver, that i exercise no compulsion over you. i think you are old enough now to be judge of your own affairs." "thank you, sir." the conversation which we have reported took some time. after it was over mr. kenyon devoted his attention to the morning papers, and oliver was sufficiently amused looking out of the window and examining his fellow-passengers. presently they reached the city. leaving the cars, they got into a horse-car, for distances are great in new york. oliver looked out of the car windows with a lively sense of satisfaction. how much gayer and more agreeable it would be, he thought, to be in business in a great city like new york than to live in a quiet little country village where nothing was going on. this was a natural feeling, but there was another side to the question which oliver did not consider. how many families in the great, gay city are compelled to live in miserable tenements, amid noise and vicious surroundings, who, on the same income, could live comfortably and independently in the country, breathing god's pure air, and with nothing to repel or disgust them? "new york is rather a lively place, oliver," said mr. kenyon, who read his young companion's thoughts. "i think you will like to live here." "i am sure i shall," said oliver eagerly. "i should think you would prefer it yourself, mr. kenyon." "perhaps i may remove here some day, oliver. i own that i have thought of it. roland would like it better, i am sure." "yes, sir, i think he would." "where is the store you spoke of, mr. kenyon?" he queried, after a pause. "are we going there now?" "yes; we will go there in the first place. we may as well get matters settled as soon as possible. of course, you won't have to go to work immediately. you can take a little time to see the city--say till next monday." "thank, you, sir. i should prefer that." "we get out here," said mr. kenyon after a while. they were on the third avenue line of cars, and it was to a shop on the bowery that mr. kenyon directed his steps. it was by no means a large shop, but the windows were full of articles, labelled with cheap prices, and some even were displayed on the sidewalk. this is a very common practice with shops on the bowery and third avenue, as visitors to new york need not be reminded. on a sign-board over the door the name of the proprietor was conspicuously displayed thus: ezekiel bond, cheap furnishing store. "this is the place, oliver," said mr. kenyon. "ezekiel bond is my nephew." "it seems rather small," commented oliver, feeling a little disappointed. "you mustn't judge of the amount of business done by the size of the shop. my nephew's plan is to avoid a large rent, and to replenish his stock frequently. he is a very shrewd and successful man of business. he understands how to manage. the great thing is to make money, oliver, and ezekiel knows how to do it. there are many men with large stores, heavy stocks, and great expenses who scarcely make both ends meet. now, my nephew cleared ten thousand dollars last year. what do you say to that?" "i shouldn't think it possible to have such a large trade in such a small place," answered oliver, surprised. "it is a fact, though. that's a nice income to look forward to, eh, oliver?" "yes, sir." while this was going on they were standing in front of the window. "now," said mr. kenyon, "come in and i will introduce you to my nephew." chapter xiv. a store in the bowery. the store was crowded with a miscellaneous collection of cheap articles. that such a business should yield such large profits struck oliver with surprise, but he reflected that it was possible, and that he was not qualified to judge of the extent of trade in a city store. a tall man, pock-marked, and with reddish hair, stood behind the counter, and, with the exception of a young clerk of nineteen, appeared to be the only salesman. this was ezekiel bond. "how are you, ezekiel?" said mr. kenyon affably, advancing to the counter. "pretty well, thank you, uncle," said the other, twisting his features into the semblance of a smile. "when did you come into town?" "this morning only." "that isn't roland, is it?" "oh, no; it is my step-son, oliver conrad. oliver, this is my nephew, ezekiel bond." "glad to see you, mr. conrad," said ezekiel, putting out his hand as if he were a pump-handle. "do you like new york?" "i haven't seen much of it yet. i think i shall." "ezekiel," said mr. kenyon, "can i see you a few minutes in private?" "oh, certainly. we'll go into the back room. will mr. conrad come, too?" "no; he can remain with your clerk while we converse." "john, take care of mr. conrad," said ezekiel. "all right, sir." john meadows was a bowery boy, and better adapted for the store he was in than for one in a more fashionable thoroughfare. "the boss wants me to entertain you," he remarked, when they were alone. "how shall i do it?" "don't trouble yourself," said oliver, smiling. "i'd offer you a cigarette, only the boss don't allow smoking in the store." "i don't smoke," said oliver. "you don't! where was you brung up?" asked john. "in the country." "oh, that accounts for it. mean ter say you've never puffed a weed?" "i never have." "then you don't know what 'tis to enjoy yourself. who's that man you came in with?" "my step-father." "i've seen him here before. he's related to my boss. i don't think any more of him for that." "why not?" asked oliver, rather amused. "don't you like mr. bond?" "come here," said john. oliver approached the counter, and leaning over, john whispered mysteriously: "he's a file!" "a what?" "a file, and an awful rasping one at that. he's as mean as dirt." "i am sorry to hear that, for mr. kenyon wants me to begin business in this store." john whistled. "that's a go," he said. "are you going to do it?" "i suppose i shall try it. if i don't like it i can give it up at any time." "then i wish i was you. i don't like it, but i can't give it up, or i might have to live on nothing a week. i don't see what the boss wants an extra hand for. there aint enough trade to keep us busy." "mr. kenyon tells me mr. bond has made money." "well, i am glad to hear it. the boss is always a-complainin' that trade is dull, and he must cut me down. if he does i'll sink into a hungry grave, that's all." "how much do you get?" asked oliver, amused by his companion's tone. "eight dollars a week; and what's that to support a gentleman on? i tell you what, i haven't had a new necktie for three months." "that is hard." "hard! i should say it was hard. look at them shoes!" and john, bounding over the counter, displayed a foot which had successfully struggled out of its encasement on one side. "isn't it disgraceful that a gentleman should have to wear such foot-cases as them?" "won't mr. bond pay you more?" asked oliver. "i guess not. i asked him last week, and he lectured me on the dulness of trade. then he went on for to show that eight dollars was a fortune, and i'd orter keep my carriage on it. he's a regular old file, he is." "from what you say, i don't think i shall get very high pay," said oliver. "it's different with you. you're a relation. you'll be took care of." "i'm not related to mr. bond," said oliver, sensible of a feeling of repugnance. "if it depends on that, i shall expect no favors." "you'll get 'em, all the same. his uncle's your step-father." "where do you live?" "oh, i've got a room round on bleecker street. it's about big enough for a good-sized cat to live in. i have to double myself up nights so as not to overflow into the entry." "why don't you get a better room?" "why don't i live on fifth avenue, and set up my carriage? 'cause it can't be done on eight dollars a week. i have to live accordin' to my income." "that's where you are right. how much do you have to pay for your room?" "a dollar and a half a week." "i don't ask from curiosity. i suppose i shall have to get a place somewhere." "when you get ready, come to me. i'll find you a place." here an old lady entered--an old lady from the country evidently, in a bombazine dress and a bonnet which might have been in fashion twenty years before. she was short-sighted, and peered inquisitively at oliver and john. "which of you youngsters keeps this store?" she enquired. "i am the gentleman, ma'am," said john, with a flourish. "oh, you be! well, i'm from the country." "never should have thought it, ma'am. you look like an uptown lady i know--mrs. general buster." "you don't say," returned the old lady, evidently feeling complimented. "i'm mrs. deacon grimes of pottsville." "is the deacon well?" asked john, with a ludicrous assumption of interest. "he's pooty smart," answered mrs. grimes, "though he's troubled sometimes with a pain in the back." "so am i," said john; "but i know what to do for it." "what do you do?" "have somebody rub me down with a brick-bat." "the deacon wouldn't allow no one to do that," said the old lady, accepting the remedy in good faith. "can i sell you a silk necktie this morning, ma'am?" asked john. "no; i want some handkerchers for the deacon; red silk ones he wants." "we haven't any of that kind. here's some nice cotton ones, a good deal cheaper." "will they wash?" asked mrs. grimes cautiously. "of course they will. we import 'em ourselves." "well, i don't know. if you'll sell 'em real cheap i'll take two." then ensued a discussion of the price, which oliver found very amusing. finally the old lady took two handkerchiefs and retired. "is that the way you do business?" asked oliver. "yes. we have all sorts of customers, and have to please 'em all. the old woman wanted to know if they would wash. the color'll all wash out in one washing." "i am afraid you cheated her, then." "what's the odds? she wasn't willing to pay for a good article." "i don't believe i can do business that way," thought oliver. just then mr. kenyon returned with ezekiel bond from the back room in which they had been conferring. "it's all settled, oliver," he said. "mr. bond has agreed to take you, and you are to begin work next monday morning." oliver bowed. the place did not seem quite so desirable to him now. "i will be on hand," he answered. when mr. kenyon and he had left the store, the former said: "every saturday evening mr. bond will hand you twelve dollars, out of which you will be expected to defray all your expenses." "the other clerk told me he only got eight." "part of this sum comes from me. i don't want you to be pinched. you have been brought up differently from him. i hope you'll like my nephew." "i hope i shall," said oliver, but his tone implied doubt. chapter xv. john's courtship. oliver didn't go back to his native village. mr. kenyon sent on his trunk, and thus obviated the necessity. our hero took up his quarters at a cheap hotel until, with the help of john meadows, he obtained a room in st. mark's place. the room was a large square one, tolerably well furnished. the price asked was four dollars a week. "that is rather more than i ought to pay just for a room," said oliver. "i'll tell you how you can get it cheaper," said john meadows. "how?" "take me for your room-mate. i'll pay a dollar and a half toward the rent." oliver hesitated, but finally decided to accept john's offer. though his fellow-clerk was not altogether to his taste, it would prevent his feeling lonely, and he had no other acquaintances to select from. "all right," he said. "is it a bargain?" said john, delighted. "i'll give my bleecker street landlady notice right off. why, i shall feel like a prince here!" "then this is better than your room?" "you bet! that's only big enough for a middling sized cat, while this----" "is big enough for two large ones," said oliver, smiling. "yes, and a whole litter of kittens into the bargain. we'll have a jolly time together." "i hope so." "of course," said john seriously, "when i get married that'll terminate the contract." "do you think of getting married soon?" asked oliver, surprised and amused. "i'll tell you about it," said john, with the utmost gravity. "last month i had my fortune told." "well?" "it was told by mme. catalina, the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter; so, of course, she wasn't a humbug." "does that make any difference--being the seventh daughter?" "of course it does. well, she told me that i should marry a rich widow, and ever after live in luxury," said john, evidently elated by his prospects. "did you believe her?" "of course i did. she told things that i knew to be true about the past, and that convinced me she could foretell the future." "such as what?" "she told me i had lately had a letter from a person who was interested in me. so i had. i got a letter from charlie cameron only a week before. me and charlie went to school together, so, of course, he feels interested in me." "what else?" "she said a girl with black eyes was in love with me." "is that true?" john nodded complacently. "who is it?" "i don't know her name, but i've met her two or three times on the street, and she always looked at me and smiled." "struck with your looks, i suppose," suggested oliver. john stroked an incipient mustache and stole a look into the glass. "looks like it," he said. "if she were only a rich widow you wouldn't mind cultivating her acquaintance?" "i wish she were," said john thoughtfully. "you haven't any widow in view, have you?" "yes, i have," said john, rather to oliver's surprise. "who is it?" "her husband used to keep a lager-beer saloon on bleecker street, and now the widow carries it on. i've enquired about, and i hear she's worth ten thousand dollars. would you like to see her?" "very much," answered oliver, whose curiosity was excited. "come along, then. we'll drop in and get a couple of glasses of something." following his guide, or rather side by side, oliver walked round to the saloon. "does she know you admire her?" enquired oliver. "i don't," said john. "i admire her money." "would you be willing to sell yourself?" "for ten thousand dollars? i guess i would. that's the easiest way of getting rich. it would take me two hundred years, at eight dollars a week, to make such a fortune." they entered the saloon. behind the counter stood a woman of thirty-five, weighing upward of two hundred pounds. she looked good-natured, but the idea of a marriage between her and john meadows, a youth of nineteen, seemed too ridiculous. "what will you have?" she asked, in a teutonic accent. "sarsaparilla and lager!" answered john. frau winterhammer filled two mugs in the most business-like manner. she evidently had no idea that john was an admirer. in the same business-like manner she received the money he laid on the counter. john smacked his lips in affected delight. "it is very good," he said. "your lager is always good, mrs. winterhammer." "so!" replied the good woman. "that's so!" repeated john. "then perhaps you comes again," said the frau, with an eye to business. "oh, yes; i'll be sure to come again," said john, with a tender significance which was quite lost upon the matter-of-fact lady. "and you bring your friends, too," she suggested. "yes; i will bring my friends." "dat is good," said mrs. winterhammer, in a satisfied tone. having no excuse for stopping longer the two friends went out. "what do you think of her, oliver?" asked john. "there's a good deal of her," answered oliver, using a non-committal phrase. "yes, she's rather plump," said john. "i don't like a skeleton, for my part." "she doesn't look much like one." "she's good-looking; don't you think so?" enquired john, looking anxiously in his companion's face. "she looks pleasant; but, john, she's a good deal older than you." "she's about thirty." "nearer forty." "oh, no, she isn't. and she's worth ten thousand dollars! think, oliver, how nice it would be to be worth ten thousand dollars! i wouldn't clerk it for old bond any more, i can tell you that." "would you keep the saloon?" "no, i'd let her keep that and i'd set up in something else. we'd double the money in a short time and then i'd retire and go to europe." "that's all very well, john; but suppose she won't have you?" john smiled--a self-satisfied smile. "she wouldn't reject a stylish young fellow like me--do you think she would? she'd feel flattered to get such a young husband." "perhaps she would," said oliver, who thought john under a strange hallucination. "you must invite me to the wedding whenever it comes off, john." "you shall be my groomsman," answered john confidently. a week later john said to oliver after supper: "oliver, i'm goin' to do it." "to do what?" "i'm goin' to propose to the widder to-night." "so soon!" "yes; i'm tired of workin' for old bond; i want to go in for myself." "well, john, i wish you good luck, but i shall be sorry to lose you for a room-mate." "lend me a necktie, won't you, oliver? i want to take her eye, you know." so oliver lent his most showy necktie to his room-mate, and john departed on his important mission. about half an hour later john rushed into the room in a violent state of excitement, his collar and bosom looking as if they had been soaked in dirty water, and sank into a chair. "what's the matter?" asked oliver. "i've cast her off!" answered john in a hollow voice. "she is a faithless deceiver." "tell me all about it, jack." john told his story. he went to the saloon, ordered a glass of lager, and after drinking it asked the momentous question. frau winterhammer seemed surprised, said "so!" and then called "fritz!" a stout fellow in shirt-sleeves came out of a rear room, and the widow said something to him in german. then he seized john's arms, and the widow deliberately threw the contents of a pitcher of lager in his face and bosom. then both laughed rudely, and john was released. "what shall you do about it, john?" asked oliver, with difficulty refraining from laughing. "i have cast her off!" he said gloomily, "i will never enter the saloon again." "i wouldn't," said oliver. oliver would have felt less like laughing had he known that at that very moment ezekiel bond, prompted by mr. kenyon, was conspiring to get him into trouble. chapter xvi. the conspiracy. oliver did not find his work in the store very laborious. during some parts of the day there was little custom, and therefore little to do. at such times he found john meadows, though not a refined, at any rate an amusing companion. with his friendly help he soon got a general idea of the stock and the prices. he found that the former was generally of an inferior quality, and the customers belonged to the poorer classes. obtaining a general idea of the receipts, he began to doubt mr. kenyon's assurance of the profits of the business. he intimated as much to his fellow-clerk. "the old man sold you," he said. "bond doesn't take in more than twenty thousand dollars a year, and there isn't more than a tenth profit." "you are sure of that, john?" "yes." "then mr. kenyon has deceived me. i wonder what for." "does he love you very much?" "who?" "old kenyon." "not enough to hurt him," said oliver, with a smile. "then he wanted to get rid of you, and made you think this was a splendid opening." "i don't know but you are right," returned oliver thoughtfully. "he seemed very kind, though." "he's an old fox. i knew it as soon as i set eyes on him." "i didn't enjoy myself much at home. i would just as soon be here. i don't like this store particularly, but i like new york." "lots goin' on here all the time. don't you want to go out in a torchlight procession to-night? i can get you the chance." "no, i think not." "i like it. i've been out ever so many times. sometimes i'm a democrat and sometimes i'm a republican. it makes no difference to me so long as i have fun." three weeks passed without developing anything to affect our hero's fortunes. about this time ezekiel bond received the following note from his uncle: i think you may as well carry out, without any further delay, the plan on which you agreed when oliver entered your employment. i consider it desirable that he should be got rid of at once. as soon as anything happens, apprise me by letter. b. kenyon. ezekiel bond shrugged his shoulders when he received this letter. "i can't quite understand what uncle benjamin is driving at," he said to himself. "he's got the property, and i can't see how the boy stands in the way. however, i am under obligations to him, and must carry out his wishes." ten minutes later he entered the store from the back room, and said to oliver: "have you any objection to going out for me?" "no, sir," answered oliver with alacrity. he was glad to escape for a time from the confinement of the store and breathe the outside air. john meadows would have rebelled against being employed as an errand boy, but oliver had no such pride. "here is a sealed letter which i wish carried to the address marked on it. be careful of it for it contains a twenty-dollar bill. look out for pick-pockets." "yes, sir." oliver put the letter in his coat pocket, put on his hat, and went out into the street. the distance was about a mile, but as trade was dull at that hour, he decided to walk, knowing that he could easily be spared from the store. the note was addressed to a tailor who had been making a business coat for mr. bond. oliver entered the tailor's shop and inquired for james norcross, the head of the establishment. an elderly man said: "that is my name," and opened the letter. he read it, and then turned to oliver. "where is the money!" he demanded. "what money?" asked oliver, surprised. "your employer writes me that he encloses twenty dollars--the amount due me--and wishes me to send back a receipt by you." "well, sir?" "there is no money in the letter," said the tailor, looking sharply at oliver. "i don't understand it at all, sir," said oliver, disturbed. "has the letter gone out of your possession?" "no, sir. i put it in my pocket and it has remained there." "how, then, could the money be lost?" "i think mr. bond may have neglected to put it in. shall i go back and ask him about it?" again mr. norcross looked in oliver's face. certainly there was no guilt expressed there, only concerned surprise. "perhaps you had better," he said. "you saw me open the letter?" "yes, sir." "then you can bear witness that there was nothing in it. report this to mr. bond, and ask him to send me up the money to-morrow at latest, as i need it to help meet a note." "i will, sir. i am sorry there has been any mistake about it." "mr. bond must certainly have forgotten to put in the bill. i presume he has found out his mistake by this time," thought oliver. he had no suspicion that there was no mistake at all--that it was a conspiracy against his own reputation, instigated by mr. kenyon, and artfully carried out by ezekiel bond. chapter xvii. oliver loses his place. oliver re-entered the store and went up to mr. bond, who was standing behind the counter awaiting his return. "have you brought back the receipt?" asked his employer, before he had a chance to speak. "no, sir." "why not?" demanded bond, frowning. "there was some mistake, mr. bond. the letter you gave me contained no money." "contained no money! what do you mean?" exclaimed the storekeeper. oliver briefly related the circumstances, repeating that the letter contained no money. "do you mean to tell me such an unblushing falsehood," demanded ezekiel bond, "expecting me to believe it?" "mr. bond," said oliver, with dignity, "it is just as i say. there was no money in the letter." "silence!" roared bond, working himself up into a premeditated excitement. "i tell you i put the money in myself. i think i ought to know whether there was any money in it." "it is very strange, sir. i saw mr. norcross open the letter. if he had taken any bill out, i should have seen it." "i presume you would," sneered bond. "i dare say he did find the letter empty." oliver looked puzzled. he was not yet prepared for an accusation. he attributed mr. bond's anger to his annoyance at the loss of twenty dollars. he kept silent, but waited to hear what else his employer had to say. "i can understand this strange matter," continued ezekiel, with another sneer. "i am not altogether a fool, and i can tell you why no bill was found." "why, sir?" "because you opened the letter and took the money out before you reached the tailor's." he was about to say more, but oliver interrupted him by an indignant denial. "that's a lie, sir!" he said hotly. "i don't care who says it." "do you mean to tell me i lie?" exclaimed ezekiel bond, purple with rage. "if you charge me with stealing the money, i do!" said oliver, his face flaming with just indignation. "you hear that, john meadows?" said ezekiel, turning to his other clerk. "did you ever hear such impudence?" john meadows was not a coward nor a sneak, and he had not the slightest belief in oliver's guilt. to his credit, he dared manfully to avow it. "mr. bond," he answered, "i don't believe oliver would do such a thing. i know him well, and i've always found him right side up with care." "thank you, john," said oliver gratefully. "i am glad there is one who believes i am not a thief." "you don't believe he is guilty because you are honest yourself, john," said mr. bond, willing to gain over his older clerk by a little flattery. "but how can it be otherwise? i put the money very carefully in the envelope. oliver put it in his pocket, and when he hands the letter to mr. norcross it is empty." "are you sure you put the money in, sir?" asked john. "am i sure the sun rose this morning?" retorted mr. bond. "of course, i am certain; and i am morally certain that oliver took the money. hark, you! i will give you one chance to redeem yourself," he continued, addressing our hero. "give me back the money and i will forgive you this time." "mr. bond," said oliver indignantly, "you insult me by speaking in that way! once for all, i tell you that i don't know anything about the money, and no one who knows me will believe your charge. you may search me if you want to." "it would do no great good," said bond sarcastically. "you have had plenty of chances to dispose of the money. you could easily pass it over to some confederate." "mr. bond," said oliver, "i see that you are determined to have people believe me guilty. i think i understand what it all means. it is a conspiracy to destroy my reputation. you know there was no money in the letter you sent by me." "say that again, you young rascal, and i will give you a flogging!" shouted ezekiel bond, now really angry, for he was conscious that oliver spoke the truth, and the truth is very distasteful sometimes. "i don't think you will," retorted our hero undauntedly; "there are policemen in the city, and i should give you in charge." "you would, would you? i have a great mind to have you arrested for theft." "do, if you like. i am willing to have the matter investigated." it was evident that in attempting to frighten oliver mr. bond had undertaken a difficult job. he would really have liked to give oliver in charge, but he knew very well that he could prove nothing against him. besides, he would be exceeding the instructions which mr. kenyon had given him, and this he did not venture to do. there was, however, one way of revenge open to him, and this was in strict accordance with his orders. "i will spare you the disgrace of arrest," he said, "not for your own sake, but for the sake of my esteemed uncle, who will be deeply grieved when he hears of this occurrence. but i cannot consent any longer to retain you in my employment. i will not ask my faithful clerk, john meadows, to associate with a thief." "i don't care to remain in your employment, mr. bond. i would not consent to, until you retracted your false charge. as to you, john," he continued, turning to john meadows, with a smile, "i hope you are not afraid to associate with me." "i guess 'twon't hurt me much," said john courageously. "i think mr. bond has made a great mistake in suspecting you." "you judge him by yourself," said mr. bond, who chose not to fall out with john. "you may do as you please, but i can no longer employ a suspicious character." "good-morning, mr. bond," said oliver proudly. "i will lose no time in relieving you of my presence. john, i will see you to-night." "one word more," said his employer. "i shall deem it my duty to acquaint my uncle with my reasons for dismissing you. i know it will grieve him deeply." "i think he will manage to live through it," said oliver sarcastically. "i shall also send him an account of the occurrence, and he may believe whichever of us he pleases." oliver took his hat and left the store. "i fear he is a hardened young rascal, john," bond remarked to his remaining clerk, with a hypocritical sigh. "my uncle warned me that i might have trouble with him, when he first placed him here." "i never saw anything bad in him, mr. bond," said john. "i am sorry he is gone." "he has deceived you, and i am not surprised. he is very artful--exceedingly artful!" repeated ezekiel, emphasizing the adverb by prolonging its pronunciation. "i don't mind the loss of the money so much as i do losing my confidence in him. so young, and such a reprobate! it is sad--sad!" "he does it well," thought john. "what a precious old file he is, to be sure! i don't believe old kenyon is any better, either. they come of the same stock, and it's a bad one." before the store closed for the day, ezekiel said: "shall you see oliver to-night?" "i expect to, sir." "then i will trouble you to give him this money--six dollars. i owe him for half a week, and it was at that rate my uncle requested me to pay him. twelve dollars a week! why, he might have grown rich on that, if he had remained honest." "i wish you would give me the same chance, mr. bond," said john. "i can't rub along very well on eight." "don't ask me now, just after i have been robbed of twenty dollars. i can't afford it." "i wish i could get another place," thought john. "i should like to work for a man i could respect, even if he didn't pay me any more." chapter xviii. oliver, the outcast. without much hope of obtaining sympathy or credence, oliver wrote to his step-father an account of the charge which mr. bond had brought against him, and denied in the most positive terms its truth. "there," he said to himself as he posted the letter, "that is all i can do. mr. kenyon must now decide which he will believe." until he should hear from his step-father he decided not to form any plans for the future. one thing he was decided upon, not to return home. since his mother's death (for he supposed her dead) it was no home for him. he had been in the city long enough to become fond of city life, and he meant to remain there. if mr. kenyon chose to assist him to procure another situation, he would accept his proffered aid, otherwise he would try to earn his own living. two days later he received a letter, which he at once perceived to be in his step-father's handwriting. he tore it open eagerly and began to read. his lip curled with scorn before he had read far. these were the material portions of the letter: the same mail brought me letters from you and mr. bond. i need not say how grieved i am to hear that you have subjected yourself to a criminal charge. the circumstances leave no doubt of your guilt. unhappy boy! how, with the liberal allowance you received, could you stoop to so mean, so dishonorable a theft? my nephew writes me that with brazen effrontery you denied your guilt, though it was self-evident, and treated his remonstrances with the most outrageous insolence. it is well, indeed, that your poor mother did not live to see this day. "how dare he refer to my mother!" exclaimed oliver indignantly, when he came to this passage. he went on with the letter: i didn't expect that my well-meant and earnest effort to start you on a business career would terminate in this way. i confess i am puzzled to know what to do with you. i cannot take you home, for i do not wish roland corrupted by your example. here oliver's lip curled again with scorn. nor can i recommend you to another place. knowing you to be dishonest, i should feel that i was doing wrong to give you a good character. i will not tell your old acquaintances here of your sad wickedness. i have too much consideration for you. i have only told roland, hoping that it may be a warning to him, though i am thankful that he at least is incapable of theft. after anxious consideration, i have decided that you have forfeited all claim to any further help from me. i cast you off, and shall leave you henceforth to shift for yourself. you cannot justly complain, for you must be sensible that you have brought this upon yourself. i intended, sooner or later, to buy an interest for you in my nephew's business,--that is, if you behaved properly,--but all this is at an end now. i enclose twenty dollars to help you along until you can get something to do. i advise you to enlist on some ship as cabin-boy. there you will be out of reach of temptation, and may, in time, lead a useful, though humble career. i need not say with how much grief i write these words. it pains me to cast you off, but i cannot own any connection with a thief. roland is also grieved by the news. hoping that you may live to see the error of your ways, i subscribe myself, benjamin kenyon. oliver read this letter with indignation and amazement. was it possible that mr. kenyon, while in the possession of a large property left him by his mother, could thus coolly cast him off, and leave him to support himself? he wrote the following reply: mr. kenyon: i have received your harsh and unjust letter. i am innocent, and you know it. of the large property which my mother left, you send me twenty dollars, and keep the remainder. i shall keep and use the money, for it is justly mine. sometime you will repent defrauding an orphan. i don't think i shall starve, but i shall not soon forget your treachery. some day--i don't know when--i will punish you for it. oliver conrad. chapter xix. a strange acquaintance. mr. kenyon shrugged his shoulders, and smiled, when he read oliver's letter. "so the young cub is showing his claws, is he?" he said to himself. "i fancy he will find it harder to punish me than he supposes. where will he get the power? money is power, and i have the money." "yes," he continued, his sallow face lighting up with exultation, "i have played boldly for it, and it is mine! who shall dispute my claim? my wife is in a mad-house, and likely to remain there, and now oliver is disposed of. i wish he would go to sea, and never be heard of again. but at any rate i am pretty safe so far as he is concerned." oliver did not expect to terrify mr. kenyon with his threats. he, too, felt his present want of power; but he was young, and he could wait. indeed, the question of punishing his step-father was not the one that first demanded his attention. he had but twenty dollars in the world, and no expectations. he must find work of some kind, and that soon. now, unluckily for oliver, the times were hard. there were thousands out of employment, and fifty applications where there was one vacancy. day after day he answered advertisements without effect. only once he had a favorable answer. this was in a great dry-goods house. "yes," said the superintendent, who was pleased with his appearance and manners, "we will take you, if you like to come." oliver brightened up. his sky seemed to be clearing. "perhaps you will object to the pay we give," said the superintendent. "i don't expect much," said our hero, who thought he would accept for the present, if he were only offered six dollars. "we will pay you two dollars a week for the first six months." "two dollars a week!" exclaimed oliver in dismay. "for the first six months. then we will raise you to four if you do well." "then i can't come," said oliver despondently. "i shall have to live on my salary, and i couldn't possibly live on two dollars a week." "i am sorry," said the superintendent; "but as we can get plenty of boys for two dollars, we cannot break our rule." oliver went out, rather indignant. "no wonder boys are tempted to steal," he thought, "when employers are so mean." it was getting rather serious for him. his money had been dwindling daily. "john," he said to his room-mate one evening, "i must give up this room at the end of the week." "are you out of funds?" "i have but fifty cents left in the world." "i can't keep the room alone. when is our week up?" "to-morrow evening." "i will take my old room. i know it is still vacant. what will you do?" "i don't know. i haven't money enough to take any room." "i wish i had some money to lend you; i'd do it in a minute," said john heartily. "i know you would, john, but you have hard work scraping along yourself." "i'll tell you what i can do. come to my little room, and we'll take turns sleeping in the bed. it is only eighteen inches wide, or we could both occupy it at a time." "i'll come round and sleep on the floor, john. i won't deprive you of your bed. i wish i knew what to do." "perhaps mr. bond would take you back." "no, he wouldn't. i am convinced that there was a conspiracy to get rid of me. i might try my hand at selling papers." "you are too much of a gentleman to go into the street with the ragged street boys." "my gentility won't supply me with board and lodging. i mustn't think of that." "something may turn up for you to-morrow, oliver." "it won't do to depend on that. if i can turn up something, that will be more to the purpose. however, this is our last night in this room, and i won't worry myself into a sleepless night. i will get my money's worth out of the bed." oliver was not given to dismal forebodings or to anticipating trouble, though he certainly might have been excused for feeling depressed under present circumstances. he slept soundly, and went out in the morning, active and alert. he took a cheap breakfast--a cup of coffee and some tea-biscuit--for ten cents. he rose from the table with an appetite, but he didn't dare to spend more money. as it was, he had but forty cents left. about one o'clock, after applying at several stores for employment, but ineffectually, he found himself standing at the corner of fifth avenue and fourteenth street. a tall gentleman, with a dignified air, probably seventy years of age, accosted him as he stood there. "my young friend," he said, "will you dine with me?" oliver looked at him in astonishment to see if he was in earnest. "i do not wish to dine alone," said the other. "be my guest unless you have dined." "no, sir, i have not dined; but i am a stranger to you." "very true; we shall get acquainted before dinner is over." "then i will accept your invitation with pleasure, sir. it is the more acceptable because i am out of a situation and have very little money." "you are well dressed." "very true, sir. my dress is deceptive, however." "all that is irrelevant. come, if you please." so oliver followed his new acquaintance to delmonico's restaurant. they selected a small table, and a waiter approached to receive orders. "i hope you are hungry," said the old gentleman. "pray do justice to my invitation." oliver smiled. "i can easily do that, sir," he said. "i made but a light breakfast." "so much the better. what kind of soup will you have?" oliver selected turtle soup, which was speedily brought. it is unnecessary to enter into an elaborate description of the dinner. it is enough that oliver redeemed his promise, and ate heartily; his new acquaintance regarding him with approval. "will you have some wine?" he asked. "no, sir," replied oliver. "you had better try some champagne." "no, thank you." "at least you will take some coffee?" "thank you, sir." the coffee was brought, and at length the dinner was over. "thank you, sir," said oliver, preparing to leave his hospitable entertainer. "you have been very kind. i will bid you good-day." "no, no, come home with me. i want to have a talk with you." oliver reflected that his new acquaintance, who had been so mysteriously kind, might be disposed to furnish him with some employment, and thought it best to accept the invitation, especially as his time was of little value. twenty minutes' walk brought them to the door of a fine brown-stone house on a street leading out of fifth avenue. the old gentleman took out a latch-key, opened the front door, and signed to oliver to follow him upstairs. he paused before a front room on the third floor. both entered. the room was in part an ordinary bed-chamber, but not wholly. in one corner was a rosewood case containing a number of steel instruments. the old gentleman's face lighted up with strange triumph, and he locked the door. oliver thought it singular, but suspected no harm. "now, my young friend," said the old man, "i will tell you why i brought you here." "if you please, sir." "i am a physician, and am in search of a hidden principle of nature, which i am satisfied can only be arrived at by vivisection." "by what, sir?" exclaimed oliver, whom the feverish, excited air of the old man began to startle. "i propose to cut you up," said the old man composedly, selecting an ugly looking instrument, "and watch carefully the----" "are you mad, sir?" exclaimed oliver, aghast. "do you wish to murder me?" "you will die in behalf of science," said the old doctor calmly. "your death, through my observations, will be a blessing to the race. be good enough to take off your coat." oliver was horror-struck. the door was locked, and the old man stood between him and escape. it was evident that he was in the power of a maniac. "is my life to end thus?" he asked himself, in affright. chapter xx. a terrible situation. "be good enough to remove your coat," said the old man with a politeness hardly consistent with his fearful purpose. "sir," said oliver, hoping that he might be accessible to reason, "you have no right to experiment upon me without my permission." "i should prefer your permission," said the old doctor. "i can't give it," said oliver hastily. "my young friend," said the old man, with an air of superior wisdom, "you do not appreciate the important part you are invited to take in the progress of scientific discovery. you will lose your life, to be sure, but what is a single life to the discovery of a great truth! your name will live for ages in connection with the great principle which i shall have the honor of discovering." "i would rather live myself," said oliver bluntly. "science may be all very well, but i prefer that somebody else should have the privilege of dying to promote it." "they all say so," said the old man musingly. "no one has the noble courage to sacrifice himself for the truth." "i shouldn't think they would," retorted oliver. "why don't you experiment on yourself?" "i would willingly, but there are two impediments. i cannot at once be operator and subject. besides, i am too old. my natural force is abated, while you are young, strong, and vigorous. oh, yes," and he looked gloatingly at our hero, "you will be a capital subject." "look here," said oliver desperately, "i tell you i won't be a subject." "then i must proceed without your permission," said the old doctor calmly. "i have already waited too long. i cannot let this opportunity slip." "if you kill me you will be hanged!" exclaimed oliver, the perspiration starting from every pore. "i will submit cheerfully to an ignominious death, if time is only given me to complete and announce my discovery," said the old man composedly. evidently he was in earnest. poor oliver did not know what to do. he determined, however, to keep the old man in conversation as long as possible, hoping that help might yet arrive, and the struggle--for he meant to fight for his life--be avoided. "did you have this in view when you invited me to dine with you?" he asked. "surely i did." "why did you select me rather than someone else?" "because you are so young and vigorous. you are in the full flush of health." now this is a very pleasant assurance in ordinary cases, but under the circumstances oliver did not enjoy the compliment. a thought struck him. "you are mistaken," he said. "i am not as well as i look. i have--heart disease." "i can hardly believe it," said the old man. "heart disease does not go with such a physique." "i've got it," said oliver. "if you want a perfectly healthy subject, you must apply to someone else." "i will test it," said the old man, approaching. "if you really are subject to disease of the heart, you will not answer my purpose." "put down that knife, then," said oliver. the doctor put it down. oliver shuddered while the relentless devotee of science placed his hand over his heart, and waited anxiously his decision. it came. "you are mistaken, my young friend," he said. "the movement of your heart is slightly accelerated, but it is in a perfectly healthy state." "i don't believe you can tell," said oliver desperately, "just by holding your hand over it a minute." "science is unerring, my young friend," said the old man calmly. "but we waste time. take off your coat and prepare yourself for the operation." the crisis had come, the old man approached with his dangerous weapon. at this supreme moment oliver espied a bell-knob. he sprang to it, and rang a peal that echoed through the house, and was distinctly heard even in the chamber where they were standing. "what did you do that for?" demanded the old man angrily. "i am not going to stay here to be murdered!" exclaimed oliver. "i give you warning that i will resist you with all my strength." "you would foil me, would you?" exclaimed the maniac, now thoroughly excited. "it must not be." oliver hurriedly put a chair between himself and the old man. at that moment steps were heard on the staircase, and someone tried the door. "help!" shouted oliver, encouraged by what he heard. "what is the matter?" demanded a voice outside. "father, what are you doing?" the old man looked disgusted and mortified. "go away!" he said querulously. "who is there with you?" "no one." "it's a lie!" said oliver, in a loud voice. "i am a boy who has been lured in here by this old man, who wants to murder me." "open the door at once, father," said the voice outside sternly. the old man was apparently overawed and afraid to refuse. he advanced sullenly and turned the key. the door was at once opened from outside. a man in middle life entered. he took in the situation at a glance. "you are at your tricks again, sir," he said sternly to the old man. "put down that knife." the old man obeyed. "don't be harsh, samuel," he said, in an apologetic tone. "you know that i am working in the interests of science." "don't try to impose on me with such nonsense. what were you going to do with that boy?" "i wished to experiment upon him." "you were going to murder him, and the law would have exacted the penalty had i not interfered." "i would have submitted, if i could have only demonstrated the great principle which----" "the great humbug! promise me that you will never again attempt any such folly, or i shall be compelled to send you back to the hospital." "don't send me there, samuel!" said the old man, shuddering. "then take care you do not make it necessary. young man, come with me." it may be imagined that oliver gladly accepted the invitation. he followed his guide downstairs, and into the parlor, which was very handsomely furnished. "what is your name?" enquired the other. "oliver conrad." "how came you with my father?" oliver told the story briefly. "i am very much mortified at the imposition that has been practised upon you, and alarmed at the thought of what might have happened but for my accidental presence at home. of course you can see for yourself that my father is insane." "yes, sir, i can see it now; but i did not suspect it when we first met." "i suppose not. in fact, he is not generally insane. he is rather a monomaniac." "it seems a dangerous kind of monomania." "you are right; it is. unless i can control him at home, i must send him back to the hospital. he has been an eminent physician, and until two years ago was in active practice. his delusion is connected with his profession, and is therefore less likely to be cured. i am surprised that you accepted a stranger's invitation to dine." "i will tell you frankly, sir," said oliver, "that i am out of employment, and have but forty cents in the world. you could hardly expect me to decline a dinner at delmonico's under the circumstances." "to be sure," said the other thoughtfully. "wait here one minute, please." he left the room, but returned in less than five minutes. he handed a sealed envelope to oliver. "i owe you some reparation for the danger to which you have been exposed. accept the enclosure, and do me the favor not to mention the events of to-day." oliver thanked him and made the promise requested. when he was in the street he opened the envelope. to his amazement, it proved to contain one hundred dollars in bills! "shall i take this!" he asked himself. necessity answered for him. "it is a strange way of earning money," he thought. "i shouldn't like to go through it again. on the whole, however, this is a lucky day. i have had a dinner at delmonico's, and i have money enough to last me ten weeks at least." chapter xxi. roland is surprised. oliver was walking along broadway in very good spirits, as he well might, after such an extraordinary piece of good fortune, when all at once he became sensible that his step-brother, roland, was approaching him. his first impulse was to avoid the meeting by crossing the street; but, after all, why should he avoid roland? he had done nothing to be ashamed of. certainly, roland was not his friend, but he had been his companion so long that there was something homelike in his face. roland recognized him at the instant of meeting. "oliver!" he exclaimed in surprise. "how are you, roland?" said oliver composedly. roland colored and looked embarrassed. "are you still in the city?" he asked. "you see i am." "my father told me you were going to sea." "he advised me to go to sea, but i have not followed his advice." "i should think you would." "why should you think i would? do you think of going to sea?" "of course not." "then why should i?" "it must be rather awkward for you to stay in new york. are you not afraid of being arrested?" "arrested!" repeated oliver haughtily. "what do you mean?" "you know well enough what i mean. on account of the money you stole from my cousin." "say that again and i will knock you over!" "you wouldn't dare to--in the public street!" said roland, startled. "don't depend on that. if you insult me, i will." "i was only repeating what my father told me." "your father chose to tell you a lie," said oliver contemptuously. "didn't you lose your place? tell me that." "i did lose my place, or rather left it of my own accord." "wasn't there a reason for it?" insisted roland triumphantly. "there was a charge trumped up against me," said oliver--"a false charge. probably your father and your cousin were at the bottom of it. but that isn't what i care to talk about. is there anything new in brentville?" "carrie dudley is very well," said roland significantly. "i am glad to hear it." "i called there last evening. i had a splendid time," said roland. if roland expected to excite oliver's jealousy, he was not likely to succeed. our hero knew too well carrie dudley's real opinion of his step-brother to feel the least fear on the subject. "i should like to see frank and carrie," said oliver quietly. "they are the only persons i regret in brentville." "no love lost between us," returned roland at once, applying the remark to himself. "probably not," said oliver, with a smile. "have you got another place?" enquired roland curiously. "not yet." "i suppose you will find it hard, as you can't bring any recommendation." "i wouldn't accept one from mr. bond," said oliver haughtily. "how do you get along then?" "pretty well, thank you." "i mean, how do you pay your expenses?" persisted roland. "you have no income, you know." "i ought to have," blazed out oliver indignantly. "my mother left a hundred thousand dollars, which you and your father have coolly appropriated." "my father has no money that is not his own," retorted roland, "and that is more than----" "stop there, roland, or i may forget myself," interrupted oliver sternly. there was a menace in his tone which startled roland, and he thought it best not to complete his sentence. "i must be going," said roland. "have you dined?" he asked the question chiefly out of curiosity. "i dined at delmonico's," replied oliver, in a matter-of-fact tone, enjoying roland's amazement. "you did!" exclaimed roland, well aware how expensive delmonico's famous restaurant is. "yes; i had a capital dinner." "i don't believe it. you are joking," said roland incredulously. "what makes you say that?" "you can't afford to dine at such a place, a boy in your position. i don't believe you have five dollars in the world." now was the time for oliver to confound his incredulous enemy. he took out the roll of bills he had recently received and displayed it to roland, letting him see five, ten, and twenty-dollar bills. "i am not quite reduced to beggary, as you see," he said. "how did you get all that money?" gasped roland. "i don't choose to tell you. i will only say this, that i have made more money since i left mr. bond's than i made while i was in his employment--three times over." "you have?" ejaculated roland, who was beginning to feel some respect for the boy who could make so much money, even though he disliked him. "i thought you hadn't got a place," he said, after a moment's thought. "no more i have," replied oliver. "i am my own employer." "in business for yourself, hey?" oliver nodded. "well, good-morning. i'll tell frank dudley i have seen you." "i wish you would." he looked after oliver, as he walked away, with the same feeling of wonder. "how can a boy earn so much money?" he thought. "oliver must be smart. i thought he'd be a beggar by this time." in his secret heart roland had never credited the charge of theft brought against oliver. he didn't like him, and was ready enough to join in the charge of dishonesty fabricated by his father and mr. bond, but really he knew oliver too well to believe it. otherwise he might have suspected that oliver's supply of money was dishonestly obtained. he concluded that his step-brother must be doing some business of a very profitable character. with a hundred dollars in his pocket, oliver felt justified in re-engaging the room he had in the morning resolved to leave. he managed to see john meadows at the time of his leaving the store, and enquired if he had yet hired his old room. "no," said john, "i am just going round there. will you go with me?" "it won't be necessary," said oliver. "we had better remain where we are." john stared. "but how will we pay the rent?" he asked. "you have nothing." "haven't i? i made a hundred dollars to-day." john whistled. "come, now, you're gassin'," he said. "does that look like gassing?" said oliver, displaying a roll of bills. "good gracious! where did you get it!" oliver smiled. "i thought you would be surprised," he answered. "i'll tell you the story when we get home," he said. "now let us go and tell our landlady we have changed our minds and will keep the room." "i'm glad we can," said john meadows. "i felt bad about going back to my old room, and i felt anxious about you, too." "i think i shall get along," said oliver hopefully. "perhaps there is more money to be made where you made your money to-day." "i think not. at any rate, i don't care to earn any more the same way." the same evening oliver strayed into a prominent hotel on broadway. he was alone, his room-mate having retired early on account of fatigue. in the smoking-room he saw, sitting by himself, a tall, bronzed, rather roughly dressed man, evidently not a dweller in cities, but having all the outward marks of a frontiersman. something in oliver attracted this man's attention, and led him to address our hero. "young man," he said, "do you live in new york?" "yes, sir." "then, perhaps you can recommend me to a quiet house where i can obtain a lodging. i aint used to fine hotels; they don't suit me." "i can recommend the house where i am living," said oliver. "it is quiet and comfortable, but not stylish." "style aint for me," said the stranger. "if it's where you live, i'll like it better. i like your looks and would like to get acquainted with you." "then," said oliver, "i'll call here to-morrow morning and accompany you to the house. it would be too late to-night to make a change." "that will do," said the stranger. "i will be here at nine o'clock. if you don't see me enquire for nicholas bundy." chapter xxii. oliver adopts a new guardian. mrs. hill, oliver's landlady, was glad to obtain another lodger. she had a vacant square room which she was willing to let for five dollars a week. oliver reported this to nicholas bundy at the hotel the next morning. "if the price is too high," he added, with an involuntary glance at the stranger's shabby appearance, "perhaps mrs. hill will take less." "i am willing to pay five dollars," said nicholas promptly. "if you recommend it i have no doubt it will suit me." when mr. bundy presented himself to the landlady, she, too,--for necessity had made her sharp-sighted and experience had made her suspicious,--evidently felt the same distrust as to his pecuniary status. "would you mind paying weekly in advance?" she asked doubtfully. a smile lighted up his rough features. "no, ma'am," he said; "that'll suit me just as well." he drew out a large pouch, which appeared to be full of gold pieces, and drew therefrom an eagle. "that'll pay for two weeks," he said, as he placed the coin in her hand. the display of so much gold and his willingness to pay for his room two weeks in advance at once increased the lady's respect for him. "i shall try to make your room comfortable for you," she said. "there's a sofa i can put in, and i've got an extra rocking-chair." the stranger smiled. "i'm afraid you'll spoil me," he said. "i'm used to roughing it, but you may put 'em in. when my young friend here comes to see me, he can sit on either." a shabby-looking trunk and a heavy wooden box were deposited in the room before sunset. "now i'm at home," said nicholas bundy, with satisfaction. "you'll come and see me often, won't you, oliver?" he had already begun to call our hero by his christian name, and evidently felt quite an interest in him. "i can promise that," said oliver, "for i am a gentleman of leisure just now." "how is that?" asked bundy quickly. "i have lost my situation, and have all my time at my own disposal." "how do you pay your way, then?" enquired nicholas. "i have money enough on hand to last me about ten weeks, or, with rigid economy, even longer. before that time passes, i hope to get another situation." "how much does it cost you to live?" "about ten dollars a week." "suppose i employ you for about a week," proposed bundy. "is it any work i am fit for?" asked oliver. "if so, i say yes, and thank you." "it is something you can do. you must know that it is twenty years since i have set foot in new york, and it's grown beyond my knowledge. i want to go about and see for myself what changes have taken place in it. will you go with me?" "yes, mr. bundy, i will go with you, and charge nothing for it." "that won't do," said the stranger. "i shall insist on paying you ten dollars a week." "but it seems like robbing you." "don't you trouble yourself about that. you think i am poor, perhaps?" "you don't look as if you were rich," said oliver, hesitating. "no, i suppose not," said mr. bundy slowly. "i don't look it, but i am worth fifty thousand dollars--in fact, more." oliver looked surprised. "you wonder that i am so rough-looking--that i don't wear fine clothes, and sport a gold watch and chain. it aint in my way, boy. i've been used to roughing it so long that it wouldn't come nat'ral for me to change--that's all." "i am glad you are so well off, mr. bundy," said oliver heartily. "thank you, boy. it's well off in a way, i suppose, but it takes more than money to make a man well off." "i suppose it does," assented oliver, but he privately thought that a man with so much money was "well off" after all. "suppose, after twenty years' absence, you came back to your old home and found not a friend left,--that you were alone in the world, and had no one to take the least interest in you,--is that being well off?" "that is very nearly my own situation," said oliver. "i have a step-father, but he has cast me off." "did you care for him?" "he never gave me cause to." "then you don't miss him?" "he has all my mother's property,--property that should be mine,--and he cast me off with twenty dollars." "he must be a mean skunk," said mr. bundy indignantly. "tell me more about it." upon this oliver told his story. mr. bundy listened with sympathizing interest. at one point he smote the table with his hard fist and exclaimed: "the rhinoceros! i'd like to hammer him with my fist!" "i should pity him if you did, mr. bundy," said oliver smiling. when the story was ended nicholas took the boy's hand in his, while his rough features worked with friendly emotion. "you've been treated bad, oliver," he said, "but don't mind it, boy. nicholas bundy'll be your friend. he won't see you want. you shan't suffer as long as i have an ounce of gold." "thank you, mr. bundy," said oliver gratefully. "i may need your help, but, remember, i have no claim on you." "you have as much claim as anyone. look upon me as your guardian, and don't be anxious about the future. i, too, have been wrongly used, and some day i'll tell you the story." two days later, as they sat on the deck of a staten island steamer, nicholas bundy told oliver his story. "twenty years ago," he said, "i was a clerk in a store in new york. i was a spruce young man then--you wouldn't think it, but i was. i was earning a moderate salary, and spending it nearly all as i went along. about this time i fell in love with a young girl of sweet face and lovely disposition, and she returned my love. i've been battered about since, and the years have used me hard, but i wasn't so then. well, i had a fellow-clerk, by name jones,--rupert jones,--who took a fancy to the same girl. but he found she liked me better, and would say nothing to him, and he plotted my ruin. he was an artful, scheming villain, but i didn't know it then. i thought him to be my friend. that made it the easier for him to succeed in his fiendish plot. i needn't dwell upon details, but there was a sum of money missing by our employers, and through this man's ingenuity it was made to appear that i took it. it was charged upon me, and my denial was disbelieved. my employers were merciful men, and they wouldn't have me arrested. but i was dismissed in disgrace, and i learned too late that he did it. i charged him with it, and he laughed in my face. 'addie won't marry you now!' he said. then i knew his motive. i am glad to say he made nothing by it. i resigned all claim to my betrothed, but though she consented to this, she spurned him. "well, my career in new york was ended. i had a little money, and, after selling my watch, i secured a cheap passage to california. i made my way direct to the mines, and at once began work. i had varying luck. at times i prospered; at times i suffered privation. i made my home away from the coast in the interior. at last, after twenty years, i found myself rich. then i became restless. i turned my money into gold and sailed for new york. here i am, and i have just one purpose in view--to find my old enemy and to punish him if i get the chance." "i can't blame you," said oliver. "he spoiled your life." "yes, he robbed me of my dearest hopes. i have suffered for his sin, for i have no doubt he took the money himself." "do you know where he is now?" "no; he may be in this city. if he is, i will find him. this is the great object of my life, and you must help me in it." "i?" "yes. i will take care of you. you shall not want for anything. in return, you can be my companion, my assistant, and my friend. is it a bargain?" "yes," said oliver impulsively. "so be it, then. if you ever get tired of your engagement i will release you from it; but i don't think you will." "do you know, or have you any idea, where this man is--this rupert jones?" "i have heard that such a man is living on staten island. i saw his name in the new york directory. that is why i wished to come here to-day." "we are at the first landing," said oliver. "shall we land?" "yes." the two passed over the gang-plank upon the pier, and the boat went on its way to the second landing. chapter xxiii. mr. bundy is disappointed, and oliver meets some friends. the village lay farther up on the hill. oliver and his companion followed the road, looking about them enquiringly. "suppose you find this man, what will you do?" asked oliver curiously. he had an idea that nicholas bundy might pull out a revolver and lay his old enemy dead at his feet. this, in a law-abiding community, might entail uncomfortable consequences, and he might be deprived of his new friend almost as soon as the friendship had begun. "i will punish him," said nicholas, his brow contracting into a frown. "you won't shoot him?" "no. i shall bide my time, and consider how best to ruin him. if he is rich, i will strip him of his wealth; if he is respected and honored, i will bring a stain upon his name. i will do for him what he has done for me." the provincialisms which at times disfigured his speech were dropped as he spoke of his enemy, and his face grew hard and his expression unrelenting. "how he must hate this man!" thought oliver. they stepped into a grocery store on the way, and here mr. bundy enquired for rupert jones. "do you know any such man?" he asked. "oh, yes; he trades here." nicholas bundy's face lighted up with joy. "is he a friend of yours?" "no," he replied hastily. "but i want to see him; that is, if he is the man i mean. will you describe him?" the grocer paused, and then said: "well, he is about thirty-five years old, and----" "only thirty-five?" repeated nicholas in deep disappointment. "i don't think he can be any more. he has a young wife." "is he tall or short?" "quite tall." "then it is not the man i mean," said bundy. "oliver, come." as they left the store he said: "i thought it was too good news to be true. i must search for him longer; but i have nothing else to do. there are many joneses in the world." "yes, but rupert jones is not a common name," said oliver. "you say right, boy, rupert is not a common name. that is what encourages me. well, shall we go back?" "i think as we are over here we may as well stay a while," said oliver. "the day is pleasant and we can look upon it as an excursion." "just as you say, oliver. there is no more to be done to-day. have you never been here before?" "no." "i used to come over when i was a clerk. i often engaged a boat at the battery and rowed down here myself." "that must have been pleasant." "if you like rowing we can go back to the ferry pier and engage a boat for an hour." "i should like that very much." "i shall like it also. it is long since i did anything at rowing." they engaged a stout row-boat, and rowed out half a mile from shore. oliver knew something about rowing, as there was a pond in his native village, where he had obtained some practice, generally with frank dudley. what was his surprise when bending over the oar to hear his name called. looking up, he recognized frank and carrie dudley and their father. "why, it's oliver!" exclaimed frank joyfully. "where have you come from, oliver?" "from the shore." "i mean, how do you happen to be here?" "only an excursion, frank. what brings you here? and carrie, too. i hope you are well, carrie." "all the better for meeting you, oliver," said carrie, smiling and blushing. "i have been missing you very much." oliver was pleased to hear this. what boy would not be pleased to hear such a confession from the lips of a pretty girl? "i thought roland would make up for my absence," he said slyly. "he told me when we met the other day what pleasant calls he had at your house." "the pleasure is all on his side, then," said carrie, tossing her head. "i hate the sight of him." "poor roland! he is to be pitied!" "you needn't pity him, oliver," said frank. "he loses no opportunity of trying to set us against you. but he hasn't succeeded yet." "and he won't!" chimed in carrie, with emphasis. this conversation scarcely occupied a minute, though it may seem longer. meanwhile dr. dudley and nicholas bundy were left out of the conversation. oliver remembered this, and introduced them. "dr. dudley," he said, "permit me to introduce my friend, mr. bundy." "i am glad to make the acquaintance of any friend of yours, oliver. we are just going in. won't you and mr. bundy join us at dinner in the hotel?" nicholas bundy did not in general take kindly to new friends, but he saw that oliver wished the invitation to be accepted, and he assented with a good grace. the boat was turned, and they were soon on land again. "who is this man, oliver?" asked frank in a low tone. "he is a new acquaintance, but he has been very kind to me, and i have needed friends." "is it true that your step-father has cast you off? roland has been spreading that report." "it is true enough." "what an outrage!" exclaimed frank indignantly. "but, at least, he makes you an allowance out of your mother's property?" "he sent me twenty dollars, and let me understand that i was to expect no more of him." "what an old rascal!" "i hate him!" said carrie. "i would like to pull his hair." "that's a regular girl's wish," said frank, laughing. "perhaps you can make it do by pulling roland's, sis." "i will, when he next says anything against oliver." "look here, oliver," said frank, lowering his voice, "if you are in want of money, i've got five dollars at home that i can let you have as well as not. i'll send it in a letter." "i've got three dollars, oliver," said carrie eagerly. "you'll take that, too, won't you?" oliver was moved by these offers. "you are true friends, both of you," he said; "but i have been lucky, and i shall not need to accept your kindness just yet. i have nearly a hundred dollars in my pocket-book, and mr. bundy is paying me ten dollars a week for going around with him. but, though i don't need it, i thank you all the same." "he looks rough," said carrie, stealing a look at the tall, slouching figure walking beside her father; "but if he is kind, i shall like him." "he has done more than i have yet told you. he has promised to provide for me as long as i will stay with him." "he's a good man," said carrie impulsively. "i'm going to thank him." she went up to nicholas bundy and took his rough hand in hers. "mr. bundy," she said, "oliver tells me you have been very kind to him. i want to thank you for it." "my little lady," said nicholas, surprised and pleased, "if i'd been kind, that would pay me; but i've only been kind to myself. i'm alone in the world. i've got no wife nor child, nor a single relation, but i've got enough to keep two on, and as long as oliver will stay with me he shall want for nothing. he's company to me, and that's what i need." "i wish you were his step-father instead of mr. kenyon." "what sort of a man is mr. kenyon?" asked nicholas of dr. dudley. "he is a very unprincipled schemer, in my opinion," was the reply. "he has managed to defraud oliver of his mother's property and cast him penniless on the world." "he is a scoundrel, no doubt; but i am not sorry for what he has done," replied mr. bundy. "but for him i should be a solitary man. now i have a young friend to keep me company. let the boy's inheritance go? i will provide for him!" they dined together, and then dr. dudley and his family were obliged to return. "shall i give your love to roland?" asked frank. "i think you had better keep it yourself, frank," and oliver pressed his hand warmly. "you needn't tell roland that i am prospering, nor his father, either. i prefer, at present, that they should not know it." they parted, with mutual promises to write at regular intervals. chapter xxiv. another clue. nicholas bundy was disappointed by his first failure, but by no means discouraged. "there are many joneses in the world," he said, "but rupert is an uncommon name. i didn't think there'd be more than one with that handle to his name. if he's alive i'll find him." "why don't you enquire of somebody that knew him?" asked oliver. "the thing is to find such a one," said bundy. "there's been many changes in twenty years." "don't you know of some tradesman that he used to patronize, mr. bundy?" "the very thing!" exclaimed the miner, for so i shall sometimes designate mr. bundy. "there's one man that may tell me about him." "who is that?" "he kept a drinking-place down near fulton ferry. he may be living yet. i'll go and see him." so one morning nicholas bundy, accompanied by oliver, took the third avenue cars and went downtown. they got out near the astor house, and made their way to the old place, which bundy remembered well. to his great joy he found it--a little shabbier, a little dirtier, but in other respects the same. they entered. behind the bar stood a man of nearly sixty, whose bloated figure and dull red face indicated that he appreciated what he sold to others. "what will you have, gentlemen?" he asked briskly. nicholas bundy surveyed his countenance attentively. "are you jacob spratt?" he asked. "yes," answered the bartender. "do you know me?" "i knew you twenty years ago," answered the miner. "i don't remember you." "you once knew me well." "i have seen many faces in my time. i can't remember so many years back." "do you recall the name of nicholas bundy?" "ay, that i do. you used to come here with a man named jones." "yes--rupert jones. can you tell me where he is now?" jacob shook his head. "he left new york not long after you did," he answered. "he went to chicago." "are you sure of that?" "yes, and i'll tell you why. he came here one evening and says: 'jacob, i'm going away. you won't see me for a long time--i'm going to chicago.'" "did he tell you why he was going there?" "he said he was going there as an agent for a new york house--that he had a good chance." "you have never seen him since?" "no," said jacob. then he added meditatively: "once i thought i saw him. there was a man i met in the street looking as like him as two peas, makin' allowance for the years he was older. i went up to him and called him by name, but he colored up and looked annoyed, and told me i was quite mistaken; that his name wasn't jones, but something else--i don't remember what now. of course i axed his pardon and walked on, but he was the very picture of rupert jones." "then you feel sure that he went to chicago?" "yes, he told me so, and that was the last time i saw him. if he had stayed in the city he would have kept on comin' to my place, or i should have met him somewhere." nicholas bundy thanked the old man for his information, and ordered glasses of lemonade for himself and oliver. "won't you have something stronger, mr. bundy?" asked the barkeeper insinuatingly. bundy shook his head. "i've given up liquor," he said. "i'm better off without it, and so will the boy be. what do you say, oliver?" "i agree with you, sir," said oliver promptly. "lucky for me all don't think so," said spratt. "it 'ould ruin my business." when they left the bar-room nicholas bundy turned to his young companion. "oliver," he said, "will you go with me to chicago?" "i shall be glad to go," said oliver promptly. "then we will start in two or three days, as soon as i have made some business arrangements." "mr. bundy," said oliver honestly, "it will cost you considerable to pay my expenses. i should like very much to go, but do you think it will pay you to take me?" "you're considerate, boy, but don't trouble yourself about that. you are company to me, and i'm willing to pay your expenses for that, let alone the help you may give me." "thank you, mr. bundy. then i will say no more. what day do you think you will start?" "to-day is tuesday. we will start on saturday. can you be ready?" oliver laughed. "there won't be much getting ready for me," he said. "all my business arrangements can be made in half an hour." bundy smiled. our hero's good spirits seemed to enliven his own. he was not only getting used to oliver's company, but sincerely attached to him. chapter xxv. making arrangements. nicholas bundy went downtown the next morning. contrary to his usual custom, he did not invite oliver to accompany him. "perhaps you have some places to visit," he said. "if so, take the day to yourself. i shall not need you." he proceeded to the office of a well-known broker in the vicinity of wall street, and, entering, looked around him. his rusty appearance did not promise a profitable customer, and he had to wait some time before any attention was paid him. finally a young clerk came to him and enquired carelessly: "can we do anything for you this morning?" "are you one of the proprietors?" asked nicholas. "no," answered the young man, smiling. "i should like to see your employer, then." "i can attend to any little commission you may have," said the young man pertly. "who told you my commission was a little one, young man?" "it seems large to him, i suppose," thought the clerk, again smiling. "if it's only a few hundred dollars----" he commenced. "i want to consult your employer about the investment of fifty thousand dollars in gold," said nicholas deliberately. "oh, i beg your pardon, sir," said the young man, his manner entirely altered. "i will speak to mr. hamlin at once." though the broker was engaged with another person he waited upon nicholas without delay, inviting him to take a seat in his private office. "are you desirous of obtaining large interest, mr. bundy?" he asked. "no, sir; i want something solid, that won't fly away. i've worked for my money and don't want to lose it." "precisely. then i can recommend you nothing better than government bonds. they pay a fair interest and the security is unquestionable." "government bonds will suit me," said the miner. "you may buy them." the purchase was made and nicholas enquired: "what shall i do with them? i don't want to carry them around with me. is there any place of safety where i can leave them while i am absent on a journey?" "yes, sir; you want to place them with a safe deposit company. i will give you a note to one that i can recommend." this advice seemed good to mr. bundy. he presented himself at the office of the company and deposited the bonds, receiving a suitable certificate. "one thing more," he said to himself, "and my arrangements will be made." he visited the office of a lawyer and dictated his will. it was very brief, scarcely ten lines in length. this also he deposited with the safe deposit company. "oliver," he said, in the evening, "i've got through my business sooner than i expected. can you start to-morrow?" "yes, sir." "then we'll go. we'll pay our landlady to the end of the month, so that she can't complain. one thing more, oliver, i want to tell you. i've left the bulk of my property, in bonds, and my will with the safe deposit company, no.---broadway. if anything happens to me you are to go there and call for the will. whatever there is in it i want you to see carried out." "all right, sir." the next day they started for chicago. chapter xxvi. who rupert jones was. just before leaving new york oliver wrote a letter to frank dudley, announcing the plan he had in view. my new guardian, mr. bundy, goes to chicago on business [he wrote] and i am to go with him. i don't know how long we shall be away. i shall be well provided for, and expect to have a good time. i may write you from the west. remember me to carrie, and believe me to be your affectionate friend, oliver conrad. "so oliver is going to chicago," said frank dudley to roland kenyon, on the afternoon of the same day. roland looked surprised. "how do you know?" he asked. frank showed him the passage quoted above. "he doesn't send his love to you," said frank mischievously. "i don't care for his love," returned roland, tossing his head. "i'm glad he is going to a distance." "why?" "so he needn't disgrace the family." "are you really afraid of that?" asked frank, in rather a sarcastic tone. "yes; he's a bad fellow, and you'll find it out sooner or later." "i don't agree with you; i think oliver a fine, manly fellow." "oh, i know you have always stuck up for him!" said roland, annoyed. "you are deceived--that is all." "carrie is deceived, too, then," said frank, knowing that this would tease roland. "she has just as high an opinion of oliver as i have." "she'll find him out sometime," said roland, and walked moodily away. reaching home, he told his father the news. "oliver gone to chicago!" repeated mr. kenyon, with evident pleasure. "i am glad of it. i hope he'll never come back to annoy us." "i hope so, too." "but i am afraid he will get out of money and write for help." "he's found some flat who has taken a fancy to him, and is paying his expenses. very likely he'll get tired of him, though." "who is it?" asked mr. kenyon, with some curiosity. "it's a rough sort of a man. frank dudley met him one day at staten island. an old miner from california, i believe, named bundy." "what!" exclaimed his father hastily and in visible agitation. "what is the man's name?" "bundy." "what is his first name?" "nicholas, i believe." "is it possible?" exclaimed mr. kenyon, moved in some unaccountable manner. "how strange the boy should have fallen in with him!" "why, do you know him, father?" asked roland, whose turn it was now to be surprised. "i have heard of him," answered mr. kenyon, in an embarrassed voice; "not lately--years ago." "what sort of a man is he?" asked roland, who was endowed with a full share of curiosity. "his character was bad," answered his father briefly. "he was discharged from his place for dishonesty. i knew very little of him." "then he's good company for oliver," said roland, shrugging his shoulders. "they are well matched. i'll tell frank dudley what sort of a guardian his dear friend has chosen." "i desire you will do nothing of the kind," said his father hastily. "why not?" asked roland, in surprise. "i don't care to have it known that i ever heard of the man. frank dudley might write to oliver what i have said, and then it would get to the ears of this man bundy. i have nothing against him, remember. in fact i am grateful to him for taking the boy off my hands. if we are wise, we shall say nothing to separate them." "i see," said roland. "i guess you're right, father. i'd like to tell frank, but i won't." * * * * * "how strange things turn out in this world!" said kenyon to himself, when roland had left him. "of all men in the world oliver has drifted into the care of the man who hates me most. it is fortunate that i have changed my name. he will never suspect that the step-father of the boy he is befriending is the man he once knew as--rupert jones." chapter xxvii. a startling telegram. meanwhile, in her southern prison-house, mrs. kenyon languished in hopeless captivity. there was only one thing to add to her unhappiness, and that was supplied by the cruel ingenuity of her unprincipled husband. tell her [wrote mr. kenyon to dr. fox] that her son oliver is dead. he has just died of typhoid fever, after a week's illness. we did all we could to save him, but the disease obtained too great headway to be resisted, and he finally succumbed to it. "if she's not insane already that may make her so," he said to himself cunningly. "i shall not tell even dr. fox that the story is false. if he believes it he will be the more likely to persuade her of it." dr. fox did believe it. had it been an invention he supposed mr. kenyon would have taken him into his confidence. so he made haste to impart the news to his patient. essentially a coarse-minded man, he was not withheld, as many would have been, by a feeling of pity or consideration, but imparted it abruptly. "i've got bad news for you, mrs. kenyon," he said, entering the room where she was confined. "what is it?" she asked quickly. "your son oliver is dead!" she uttered one cry of deep suffering, then fixed her eyes upon the doctor's face. "you say this to torment me," she said. "it is not true." "on my honor, it is true," he answered; and he believed what he said. "when did you learn it? tell me all you know, in heaven's name! would you drive me mad?" dr. fox shrugged his shoulders. "i only got the letter this morning," he said. "it was from mr. kenyon." "may i see the letter?" reflecting that it contained nothing of a private nature, dr. fox consented, and put the letter into her hands. it carried conviction to the grief-stricken woman. "i have nothing to live for now," she said mournfully. "my poor oliver! so young to die!" "who's dead?" enquired cleopatra, advancing to where they stood. "my boy oliver." "is that all? i thought it might be mark antony. dr. fox, have you received a letter from antony lately?" "no, your majesty. if i had i would immediately have informed you." the effect of this news was, for a time, to plunge mrs. kenyon into a fit of despondency. freedom no longer had for her the old attractions. what was life to her now that her boy was dead? mr. kenyon heard with pleasure of the effect produced by his cruel message. "why don't she die, or grow mad?" he said to himself. "i shall never feel safe while she is still alive. what would the world say if it should discover that my wife is not dead, but confined in a mad-house?" still, he felt moderately secure. all his plans thus far had succeeded. he had won the hand of a wealthy widow, he had put her out of the way; he had cast off her son, appropriated her property, and there seemed to lie before him years of luxury and self-indulgence. in the midst of this pleasant day-dream there came a rude awakening. one day, as he was sitting in dressing-gown and slippers, complacently scanning a schedule of bonds and bank shares, a servant entered. "please, sir; here's a telegram. will you sign the book? the boy is waiting." he took the book and signed it calmly. he was expecting a telegram from his broker, and this was doubtless the message looked for. he tore open the envelope and read: your wife has escaped. we have no clue yet to her whereabouts. fox. he turned actually livid. "what's the matter, sir?" asked the servant, alarmed by his appearance. "is it bad news?" he had his wits about him, and realized the importance of assigning a reason for his emotion. "yes, betty, i have lost five thousand dollars!" "shure the master must care a sight about his money!" thought betty. "he looked just like a ghost." mr. kenyon sent a message to dr. fox, exhorting him to spare no pains to capture the fugitive. not content with this, he followed the telegram, taking the next train southward. chapter xxviii. old nancy's hut. mrs. kenyon's depression and apparent submission to her fate had relaxed the vigilance of her keepers. still, it is doubtful if she would have escaped but for the help of her insane room-mate. late one evening cleopatra, with a cunning expression, showed her a key. "do you know what this is?" she asked. "it is a key." "it is the key of this door." "how did you get it?" upon this point the queen would give no information. but she lowered her voice and whispered: "mark antony is waiting for me outside. he is going to carry me away." it was useless to question her delusion, and mrs. kenyon contented herself with asking: "do you mean to leave this house?" "yes," said cleopatra. "antony expects me. will you go with me? i will make you one of my maids of honor." "do you think we can get out?" asked mrs. kenyon dubiously. "the outer door is locked." "i know where to find the key. time presses. will you go?" believing in the death of her son, mrs. kenyon had supposed herself indifferent to liberty, but now that the hope of escape was presented a wild desire to throw off the shackles of confinement came to her. what her future life might be she did not care to ask; but once to breathe the free air, a free woman, excited and exhilarated her. "yes; i will go," she said quickly. "come!" the two women dressed themselves hurriedly, softly they opened the door of their room, went downstairs, and from under the mat in the unlighted hall cleopatra stooped down and drew out the key of the outer door. "see!" she said exultantly. "quick! open the door!" exclaimed mrs. kenyon nervously. the key turned in the lock with a grating sound which she feared might lead to discovery, but fortunately it did not. a moment and they stood on the outside of their prison-house. now mrs. kenyon assumed the lead. "come," she said. "do you know where to find mark antony?" asked cleopatra. "yes; follow me." they did not venture to take the highway. the chances of discovery were too great. neither knew much about the country, but mrs. kenyon remembered that a colored woman, sometimes employed at the asylum, lived in a lonely hut a mile back from the road. this woman--old nancy--she had specially employed by permission of dr. fox, and to her hut she resolved to go. cleopatra, no longer self-reliant, followed her confidingly. just on the verge of a wood, with no other dwelling near at hand, dwelt the old black woman. it was a rude cabin, dark and unpainted. cleopatra looked doubtfully at it. "where are you going?" she asked, standing still. "antony is not here." it was not a time to reason, nor was the assumed queen a person to reason with. there was no choice but to be positive and peremptory. "no," she answered, "antony is not here, but here he will meet you. it is a poor place, but his enemies lie in wait for him, and he wishes to see you in secret." this explanation suited cleopatra's humor. she nodded her head in a satisfied way and said: "i know it. augustus would murder my antony if he could." "then you must not expose him to danger. come with me." mrs. kenyon advanced, not without some misgivings, since nancy was unaware of her visit. she could hear the old woman snoring, and was compelled to knock loudly. at last old nancy heard, and awoke in a great fright. "who's there?" she called out, in a quavering voice. "it's i, nancy. it's mrs. kenyon." this only seemed to alarm the old woman the more. she was superstitious, like most of her race, and straightway fancied that it was some evil spirit who had assumed mrs. kenyon's voice. "go away, you debbil!" she answered, in tremulous accents. "i know you. you's an evil sperrit. go away, and leave old nancy alone." had her situation been less critical, mrs. kenyon would have been amused at the old woman's alarm, but in the dead of night, a fugitive from the confinement of a mad-house, she was in no mood for amusement. "don't be frightened, nancy," she said, "i have escaped from the asylum with cleopatra, and we want you to hide us for to-night. i will give you ten dollars if you will open your door and help us." now, avarice was a besetting weakness in old nancy's character, and though mrs. kenyon did not know it, she had unwittingly made the right appeal to the old woman. ten dollars was an immense sum to nancy, who counted her savings by the smallest sums. she drew back the bolt, and opened her door, not wholly without fear that her first suspicions might be correct, and her nocturnal visitors turn out to be emissaries of satan. "are you sure you aint bad sperrits?" she asked, through a narrow crevice. "don't be foolish, nancy. you know me well enough, and cleopatra, too. open the door wider, and let us in." reassured in a degree by the testimony of her eyes, nancy complied and the two entered. "laws, missus, it's you shure nuff," she said, "and clopatry, too." (this was as near as she ever got to the name of the royal egyptian.) "who'd a thought to see you this time o' night?" "we've run away, nancy. you won't let dr. fox know?" "i reckon not, missus. he's a drefful mean man, the old doctor is. i won't give you up to him nohow." luckily for mrs. kenyon old nancy had some months before had a quarrel with dr. fox about some money matter in which she felt he had cheated her. so she was glad of this opportunity to do him an ill turn. "is antony here, nancy?" asked cleopatra, looking about her with an air of expectation. nancy was about to reply in the negative, when she caught a significant look from mrs. kenyon, and altered her intended answer. "he aint here yet, missus, but i expect him in the morning sure." "likely he's her man," thought nancy, who was entirely unacquainted with that episode in roman history in which cleopatra figured. "likely he's her man, though she do look old to have one." the cabin consisted of one room on the ground floor, but overhead was a loft covered with straw, and used partly as a lumber-room by the old woman. a pallet filled with straw lay in one corner of the lower room, this being old nancy's bed, from which she had hastily risen when she heard the knocking at the outer door. "lie down there, honeys," she said with generous hospitality, proposing to resign her own bed to her unexpected guests. but the position was too exposed for mrs. kenyon. looking up she espied the loft and said: "no, nancy, we would rather go up there. then if dr. fox comes for us he won't discover us." to this arrangement both nancy and cleopatra assented, and a rude ladder was brought into requisition. when they had reached the loft cleopatra looked around her with discontent. "am i to lie here?" she asked. "yes; we will lie down together." "but this is no fit couch for a great queen," she complained. "what will mark antony--what will my courtiers say?" "they will praise you for sacrificing your royal state for your lover," answered mrs. kenyon, who was quick-witted, and readily understood the warped mind she had to deal with. "then i will be content," said cleopatra, evidently pleased with the suggestion, "if you think antony will approve." "there is no doubt of it. he will love you better than ever." cleopatra reclined upon the straw, and was soon in a profound slumber. mrs. kenyon was longer awake. she was anxious and troubled, but at length she, too, yielded to sleep. she awoke to find old nancy bending over her. "don't be frightened, honey," she said; "but the old doctor is ridin' straight to the door. don't you move or say a word, and i'll send him off as wise as he came." nancy had scarcely got downstairs and drawn the ladder after her, when the smart tap of a riding-whip was heard on the outer door. mrs. kenyon trembled in anxious suspense. chapter xxix. dr. fox in pursuit. opening the outer door, old nancy counterfeited great surprise at seeing dr. fox mounted on horseback, waiting impatiently to have his summons answered. "lor' bress us!" she exclaimed, holding up both hands, "what bring you on here so airly, massa fox?" "nancy, have you seen anything of mrs. kenyon and cleopatra?" asked the doctor abruptly. "how should i see them?" asked nancy. "i haven't been to the 'sylum sence las' week." "they have run away," explained dr. fox. "run away! good lor'! what they gone and run away for?" "out of pure cussedness, i expect," returned the doctor in a tone of disgust. "then you haven't seen them?--they haven't passed this way?" "not as i knows on. they wouldn't come to old nancy. she couldn't help 'em." "i was hoping you might have seen them," said dr. fox, disappointed. "i don't know where to look for them." "how did they get away?" asked nancy, fixing her round, bead-like eyes on the doctor, with an appearance of curiosity. "i can't stop to talk," said dr. fox impatiently. "i must search for them, though i don't know where." "i hope you'll find 'em, massa fox," said nancy, rolling her eyes. a sudden idea struck dr. fox. for a small sum he could enlist nancy on his side, he thought. "look here, nancy," he said, "these foolish woman may yet come this way. if they do, let me know in some way, so that i can catch them, and i'll give you--let me see--i'll give you five silver dollars." "will you really, massa fox?" exclaimed nancy, in affected delight. "oh, golly, how rich i'll be!" "of course you don't get it unless you earn it, nancy." "oh, i'll work for it; i will, sure, massa fox." "if they come here, manage to lock them up in your cabin, and then come to me." "you may 'pend on me, massa doctor. oh, yes, you may 'pend on me." "that secures her co-operation," thought the deluded doctor. "five dollars is a fortune to her." he would not have felt quite so confident if he had heard nancy's soliloquy after his departure. "mean old hunks!" she exclaimed. "so he thinks he's gwine to buy old nancy for five dollars! he's mighty mistaken, i reckon, i won't give up the poor darlings for no such money." no doubt the ten dollars she had received from mrs. kenyon had its effect; but, to do old nancy justice, she had a good heart, and, fond as she was of money, would not have sold the secret of those who put confidence in her, even if there had been no money paid her for keeping it. mrs. kenyon, hidden in the loft, heard the conversation with anxiety, lest nancy should yield to the temptation and betray her place of concealment. when the colloquy was over, and dr. fox had ridden away, she felt relieved. "thank you, nancy," she said gratefully, peering over the edge. "you are indeed a good friend to me." "i sent massa fox off with a flea in his ear," said nancy, her portly form shaken by a broad laugh. "i shall not forget your kindness, nancy." "is clopatry awake?" asked nancy. "yes," said a smothered voice from the straw. "is antony come?" "aint seen no gemman of that name, miss clopatry." "i hope he hasn't forgotten his appointment," said the queen anxiously. "what does he look like, in case i see him, miss clopatry?" "he looks like a prince," said cleopatra. "he has an air of command. he's a general, you know." "you couldn't tell me what color hair he's got!" said the practical nancy. "i don't know much about princes." cleopatra looked perplexed. she had never thought particularly about the personal appearance of her hero. "i expect it's black," she said; "but he'll ask for me. you'll know him by that." "all right, miss clopatry. if i see him, i'll send him right along. now, what'll you have for breakfast?" "anything you have, nancy. we don't want to put you to too much trouble." "oh, lor', mis' kenyon, you needn't be afeared. what do you say, now, to some eggs and hoe-cake?" "i would like some," said cleopatra, brightening up. "can i come down, nancy?" "just as you please, miss clopatry." "i think we may venture," said mrs. kenyon. "dr. fox will not be likely to come back at present." the two ladies went down the ladder rather awkwardly, not being used to such a staircase. in fact, cleopatra lost her footing, and fell in a very unqueenly attitude on the earthen floor. she was picked up, however, without having sustained any serious injury. after breakfast mrs. kenyon held a consultation with nancy as to the course she had better pursue. "better stay here till night, mis' kenyon," advised the old woman, "and then i'll take you through the woods to scranton, where the railroad is. ef you go now, the doctor'll come cross you and take you back." "where do the cars go, nancy? to charleston?" "no, miss kenyon. they go down souf to georgia." until then mrs. kenyon had had no fixed plan, except it had occurred to her that it would be best to go to charleston. but a moment's reflection satisfied her that she would be more likely to be sought after there than farther south. dr. fox would hardly think of following her to georgia. "that plan will suit me, nancy," she said, after a short pause. "i don't much care where i go, as long as i increase the distance between me and that horrible mad-house." "will clopatry go with you?" asked nancy, indicating the queen with a jerk of her finger. "i will ask her." the plan was broached to cleopatra, but it met with unexpected opposition. "i can't go away from antony," she said. "he is to meet me here. you said he was." this was true, and it was found impossible to remove the impression from her mind. mrs. kenyon looked at nancy in perplexity. "what shall we do?" she asked. "let her stay," said nancy. "you can go with me. you aint goin' to be caught so easy if you are alone." mrs. kenyon realized the force of this consideration. cleopatra was really insane, and her insanity could hardly be concealed from those whom they might encounter in their flight. dr. fox would, of course, post notices of their escape, and cleopatra's appearance and remarks would, in all probability, make the success of their plans very dubious. "you are right, nancy," said mrs. kenyon; "but it seems selfish to go away and leave cleopatra here." "the doctor didn't treat her bad, did he?" asked nancy in a whisper. "no." "then it won't do her any harm if she does get took back. it's different with you. jest let her stay here as long as she wants to. when she finds her man don't come, she'll go back likely herself." this was finally agreed to. during the day there were no more visitors, much to the relief of mrs. kenyon. at nightfall old nancy and mrs. kenyon set out on their journey. the latter was disguised in an old gown belonging to her hostess, her gown stuffed out to like ample proportions, while a huge bonnet, also belonging to nancy, effectually concealed her face. "you look like my sister, mis' kenyon," she said. "lor', i'd never know you!" "i'll pass for your sister, nancy, if any enquiry is made." nancy nodded acquiescence. "that'll do," she said, in a satisfied tone. "now, bid good-by to miss clopatry, and we'll go." cleopatra was quite willing to be left. she was quite persuaded that antony would come for her during the evening, and urged mrs. kenyon to hurry him in case they met him. for two miles nancy and her companion travelled through the woods, until they came to the bank of a river. "we must go 'cross here, mis' kenyon," she said. "there is a boat just here. get in and i'll row you across." mrs. kenyon got into the boat, and nancy was about to put off, when a horseman rode up rapidly. "halt, there!" he shouted. "who have you got with you, nancy?" mrs. kenyon's heart stood still with sickening fear, for the voice was that of dr. fox. chapter xxx. how dr. fox was fooled. nancy was not likely to turn pale, even if she had been frightened. really, however, she was not frightened, having considerable nerve. "is that you, massa fox?" she replied composedly, pushing the boat off at the same time. "where did you come from?" "who have you got with you?" demanded the doctor, in a peremptory tone. "lor', doctor, what's the matter? it's my sister chloe from 'cross the river. she cum over to see me yes'day, and i'm agwine to take her home." dr. fox surveyed the pretended sister critically, and was inclined to believe the story. the dress, the stuffed form, and general appearance certainly resembled nancy. but he was not satisfied. "are you sure that you haven't got one of my runaways in the boat with you?" he asked suspiciously. nancy's fat sides shook with laughter. "one of them crazy critters!" she exclaimed. "chloe, he thinks you're a crazy critter run away from his 'sylum. won't dinah laugh when you tell her!" mrs. kenyon possessed an admirable talent for mimicry, though she had not exercised it much of late years. now, however, the occasion seemed to call for an effort in that direction, and she did not hesitate. she burst into a laugh, rich and hearty, so like nancy's that the latter was almost startled, as if she heard the echo of her own amusement. no one who heard it would have doubted that it was the laugh of a negro woman. the laugh convinced dr. fox. he no longer entertained any doubt that it was really nancy's sister. "it's all right, nancy," he said apologetically. "i see i am mistaken. if you see either of the runaways let me know," and he turned his horse from the bank. not a word passed between nancy and her passenger till they had got beyond earshot of the pursuer. then nancy began: "you did dat well, mis' kenyon. ef i hadn't knowed i'd have thought it was ole chloe herself. where did you learn dat laugh?" "i think i might make a pretty good actress, nancy," said mrs. kenyon, smiling. "i knew something must be done as dr. fox's suspicions were aroused. but i didn't dare to speak. i was not so sure of my voice." "lor', how we fooled massa fox!" exclaimed nancy, bursting once more into a rollicking laugh. "so we did," said mrs. kenyon, echoing the laugh as before. "you almost frighten me, mis' kenyon," said nancy. "i didn't think no one but a nigger could laugh like dat. are you sure you aint black blood?" "i think not, nancy," said mrs. kenyon. "i don't look like it, do i?" "no, mis' kenyon; you're as white as a lily; but i can't understand dat laugh nohow." presently they reached the other shore, and nancy securely fastened the boat. "how far is it to the depot, nancy?" asked the runaway. "only 'bout a mile, mis' kenyon. are you tired?" "oh, no; and if i were, i wouldn't mind, so long as i am escaping from that horrible asylum. i can't help thinking of that poor cleopatra. i wish she might be as fortunate as i, but i am afraid she will be taken back." "she an' you's different, mis' kenyon. she's crazy, an' you aint." "then you think i can be trusted out of the doctor's hands?" "how came you there, anyway, mis' kenyon?" asked nancy curiously. "it is too long a story to tell, nancy. it is enough to say that i was put there by a cruel enemy, and that since i have been confined i have met with a great loss." "did you lose your money, mis' kenyon?" asked nancy sympathetically. "it was worse than that, nancy. my only boy is dead." "dat's awful; but brace up, mis' kenyon. de lor' don't let it blow so hard on de sheep dat's lost his fleece." "i feel that i have very little to live for, nancy," continued mrs. kenyon, in a tone of depression. "don't you take it so much to heart, mis' kenyon. i've had three chil'en myself, an' i don't know where they is." "how does that happen, nancy?" "when we was all slaves dey was sold away from me, down in alabama, i reckon, and i never expec' to see any of 'em ag'in." "that is very hard, nancy," said mrs. kenyon, roused to sympathy. "so it is, mis' kenyon," said nancy, wiping her eyes; "but i hope to see 'em in a better land." then nancy, pausing in her rowing, began to sing in an untrained but rich voice a rude plantation hymn: "we'se all a-goin', we'se all a-goin', we'se all a-goin', to de promised land. "we shall see our faders. we shall see our moders, we shall see our chil'en, dead an' gone before us, in de promised land. "don't you cry, poor sinner, don't you cry, poor sinner, we'se all a-goin to de promised land." "it makes me feel better to sing them words, mis' kenyon," said nancy; "for it's all true. de lord will care for us in de promised land." "i am glad you have so much faith, nancy," said her companion. "your words cheer me, in spite of myself. for the first time, i begin to hope." "dat's right, mis' kenyon," said nancy, heartily. "dat's de way to talk." they were walking while this conversation took place, and soon they reached the station--a small rude hut, or little better. a man with a flag stood in front of it, while a gentleman and lady were standing just in the door-way. mrs. kenyon had on the way disencumbered herself of the gown and other disguises which she had worn in the boat, and appeared a quiet, lady-like figure, who might readily be taken for a southern matron, with a colored attendant. "when will the next train start, sir?" she asked, addressing the flagman. "in five or ten minutes." "going south?" "yes, ma'am." "can i get a ticket of you?" "the ticket agent is away. you will have to buy one on board the train." "very well, sir." they went into the small depot and waited till the train arrived. then mrs. kenyon bade a hurried good-by to nancy, pressed another piece of gold into her not unwilling hand, and was quickly on her way. as the train started she breathed a sigh of relief. "at last i feel that i am free!" she said to herself. "but where am i going and what is to be my future life?" they were questions which she could not answer. the future must decide. nancy bent her steps toward her humble home, congratulating herself on the success with which their mutual plans had been carried out. "i wonder how miss clopatry is gettin' along," she reflected. we can answer that question. dr. fox, on his way back, thought he would again visit nancy's cottage. the two refugees might possibly be in the neighborhood, although he no longer suspected nancy's connivance with them. he was destined to be gratified and at the same time disappointed. as he approached the house he caught sight of cleopatra looking out of the window. "is that you, antony?" she called. dr. fox's face lighted up with satisfaction. "there they are! i've got them!" he exclaimed, and quickened his horse's pace. "open the door, cleopatra!" he ordered. she meekly obeyed. he peered round for her companion, but saw no one else. "where is antony?" asked cleopatra. "where is mrs. kenyon?" he demanded sternly. "gone away with nancy," answered cleopatra simply. dr. fox swore fearfully. "then it was she!" he exclaimed, "after all; and i have been preciously fooled. i'd like to wring nancy's neck!" "where is antony?" asked cleopatra anxiously. "he is at the asylum, waiting to see you," said the doctor. "come with me, and don't keep him waiting!" that was enough. poor cleopatra put on her bonnet at once, and went back with the doctor, only to weep unavailing tears over the disappointment that awaited her. "i'd rather it was the other one," muttered dr. fox. "who would have thought she was so cunning? where did she get that laugh? i'd swear it was a nigger!" for three months nancy was not allowed any work from the asylum, but she contented herself with the fifteen dollars in gold which mrs. kenyon had given her. chapter xxxi. mrs. kenyon finds friends. mrs. kenyon thought it best to put two hundred miles between herself and dr. fox. she left the cars the next morning at a town of about three thousand inhabitants, which we will call crawford. "is there a hotel here?" she enquired of the depot-master. "yes, ma'am." "is it far off?" "about three-quarters of a mile up in the village." "can i get a carriage to convey me there?" "certainly, ma'am," answered the depot-master briskly. my son drives the depot carriage. there it is, near the platform. "peter!" he called. "here's a lady to go to the hotel. have you a check for your trunk, ma'am?" mrs. kenyon was rather embarrassed. she had no luggage except a small bundle which she carried in her hand, and this, she feared, might look suspicious. she had a trunk of clothing at the asylum, but of course it was out of the question to send for this. "my luggage has been delayed," she said; "it will be sent me." "very well, ma'am." mrs. kenyon got into the carriage and was soon landed at the hotel. it might be called rather a boarding-house than a hotel, as it could hardly accommodate more than a dozen guests. it was by no means stylish, but looked tolerably comfortable. in mrs. kenyon's state of mind she was not likely to care much for luxury, and she said to herself wearily: "this will do as well as any other place." she enquired the terms of board, and found them very reasonable. this was a relief, for she had but two hundred dollars with her, and a part of this must be expended for the replenishing of her wardrobe. this she attended to at once, and, though she studied economy, it consumed about one-half of her scanty supply. four weeks passed. mrs. kenyon found time hanging heavily upon her hands. she appeared to have no object left in life. her boy was dead, or at least she supposed so. she had a husband, but he had proved himself her bitterest foe. she had abstained from making acquaintances, because acquaintances are apt to be curious, and she did not wish to talk of the past. there was one exception, however. one afternoon when out walking, a pretty little girl, perhaps four years of age, ran up to her, crying: "take me to mamma. i'm so frightened!" she was always fond of children, and her heart opened to the little girl. "what is the matter, my dear?" she asked soothingly. "i've lost my mamma," sobbed the little girl. "how did it happen, my child?" "i went out with nurse, and i can't find her." by enquiry mrs. kenyon ascertained that the little girl had run after some flowers, while the careless nurse, not observing her absence, had gone on, and so lost her. "what is your name, my little dear?" she asked. "florette." "and what is your mamma's name?" "her name is mamma," answered the child, rather surprised. "don't you know my mamma?" then it occurred to mrs. kenyon that the child was the daughter of a mrs. graham, a northern visitor, who was spending some weeks with a family of relatives in the village. she had seen the little girl before, and even recalled the house where her mother was staying. "don't cry, florette," she said. "i know where mamma lives. we will go and find mamma." the little girl put her hand confidingly in that of her new friend, and they walked together, chatting pleasantly, till suddenly florette, espying the house, clapped her tiny hands, and exclaimed joyfully: "there's our house. there's where mamma lives." mrs. graham met them at the door. not having heard of the little girl's loss, she was surprised to see her returning in the care of a stranger. "mrs. graham," said mrs. kenyon, "i am glad to be the means of restoring your little girl to you." "but where is susan--where is the nurse?" asked mrs. graham, bewildered. "i lost her," said little florette. "i found the little girl crying," continued mrs. kenyon, "and fortunately learned where you were staying. she was very anxious to find her mamma." "i am very much indebted to you," said mrs. graham warmly. "let me know who has been so kind to my little girl." "my name is conrad, and i am boarding at the hotel," answered mrs. kenyon. she had resumed the name of her first husband, not being willing to acknowledge the tie that bound her to a man that she had reason to detest. mrs. graham pressed her so strongly to enter the house that she at length yielded. in truth she was longing for human sympathy and companionship. always fond of children, the little girl attracted her, and for her sake she wished to make acquaintance with the mother. this was the beginning of friendship between them. afterward mrs. kenyon, or conrad, as we may now call her, called, and, assuming the nurse's place, took florette to walk. she exerted herself to amuse the child, and was repaid by her attachment. "i wish you'd come and be my nurse," she said one day. "i hope you will excuse florette," said mrs. graham apologetically. "she is attached to you, and is too young to know of social distinctions." "i am very much pleased to think that she cares for me," said mrs. conrad, looking the pleasure she felt. "do you really like me, then, florette?" the answer was a caress, which was very grateful to the lonely woman. "it does me good," she said to mrs. graham. "i am quite alone in the world, and treasure more than you can imagine your little girl's affection." "i am sure she has suffered," thought mrs. graham, who was of a kindly, sympathetic nature. "how unhappy i should be if i, too, were alone in the world!" mr. graham was a merchant in chicago, where business detained him and prevented his joining his wife. she was only to stay a few weeks, and the time had nearly expired when little florette was taken sick with a contagious disease. the mercenary nurse fled. mrs. graham's relations, also concerned for their safety, left the sorrow-stricken mother alone in the house, going to a neighboring town to remain till the danger was over. human nature was unlovely in some of its phases, as mrs. graham was to find out. but she was not without a friend in the hour of her need. mrs. conrad presented herself, and said: "i have heard of florette's sickness, and i have come to help you." "but do you know the danger?" asked the poor mother. "do you know that her disease is contagious, and that you run the risk of taking it?" "i know all, but life is not very precious to me. i love your little daughter, and i am willing to risk my life for her." mrs. graham made no further opposition. in truth, she was glad and encouraged to find a friend who was willing to help her--more especially one whom the little girl loved nearly as much as herself. so these two faithful women watched by day and by night at the bedside of little florette, relieving each other when nature's demand for rest became imperative, and the result was that florette was saved. the crisis was safely past, and neither contracted the disease. when florette was well enough, mrs. graham prepared to set out for her northern home. "how lonely i shall feel without you," exclaimed mrs. conrad, with a sigh. "then come with us," said mrs. graham. "florette loves you, and after what has passed i look upon you as a sister. i have a pleasant home in chicago, and wish you to share it." "but i am a stranger to you, mrs. graham. how do you know that i am worthy?" "the woman who has nursed my child back from death is worthy of all honor in my household." "but your husband?" "he knows of you through me, and we both invite you." mrs. conrad made no further opposition. she had found friends. now she had something to live for. by a strange coincidence, she and oliver reached chicago the same day. chapter xxxii. mr. denton of chicago. in due time, nicholas bundy and oliver arrived at chicago. they took up their residence at a small hotel, and mr. bundy prepared to search for some trace of rupert jones. he couldn't find the name in the directory, but after diligent search ascertained that such a man had been in business in chicago ten years before. where he went or what became of him could not immediately be learned. time was required, and it became necessary to prolong their stay in the city. mr. bundy did not care to make acquaintances. with oliver he was not lonely. but one evening, while sitting in the public room, a stranger entered into conversation with him. "my dear sir," he said to mr. bundy, "i perceive that you smoke. won't you oblige me by accepting one of my cigars? i flatter myself that you will find it superior to the one you are smoking." if there was one thing that nicholas bundy enjoyed it was a good cigar. "thank you, sir," he said. "you are very obliging." "oh, don't mention it," said the other. "the fact is i am rather an enthusiast on the subject of cigars. i would like your opinion of this one." nicholas took the proffered cigar and lighted it. he was sufficient of a judge to see that it was really superior, and his manner became almost genial toward the stranger who had procured him this pleasure. "it is capital," he said. "where can i get more like it?" "oh, i'll undertake that," said the other. "how many would you like?" "a hundred to begin with." "you shall have them. by the way, do you remain long in the city?" "i can't tell. it depends upon my business." "why do you stay at a hotel? you would find a boarding-house more comfortable and cheaper." "do you know of a good one?" "i can recommend the one where i am myself living. there is a chamber next to my own that is vacant, if you would like to look at it." the proposal struck nicholas favorably and he agreed to accompany his new acquaintance the next morning to look at it. the house was one of fair appearance, with a tolerably good location. the chamber referred to by denton (this was the stranger's name) was superior to the room in the hotel, while the terms were more reasonable. "what do you say, oliver?" asked mr. bundy. "shall we remove here?" "just as you like, sir. it seems a very pleasant room." the landlady was seen, and the arrangement was made for an immediate removal. she was a woman of middle age, bland in her manners, but there was something shifty and evasive in her eyes not calculated to inspire confidence. neither nicholas nor oliver thought much of this at the time, though it occurred to them afterward. "you'll find her a good landlady," said denton, who seemed pleased at the success of the negotiations. "i have been here over a year, and i have never had anything to complain of. the table is excellent." "i am not likely to find fault with it," said nicholas. "i've roughed it a good deal in my time, and i aint much used to luxury. if i get a comfortable bed, and good plain victuals, it's enough for me." "so you've been a rolling stone, mr. bundy," said the stranger enquiringly. "yes, i have wandered about the world more or less." "they say 'a rolling stone gathers no moss,'" continued mr. denton. "i hope you have gathered enough to retire upon." "i have got enough to see me through," said nicholas quietly. "so have i," said denton. "queer coincidence, isn't it? when i was fifteen years old i hadn't a cent, and being without shoes i had to go barefoot. now i've got enough to see me through. do you see that ring?" displaying at the same time a ring with an immense colorless stone. "it's worth a cool thousand,--genuine diamond, in fact,--and i am able to wear it. whenever i get hard up--though there's no fear of that--i have that to fall back upon." nicholas examined the ring briefly. "i never took a fancy to such things," he said quietly. "i'd as soon have a piece of glass, as far as looks go." "you're right," said denton. "but i have a weakness for diamonds. they are a good investment, too. this ring is worth two hundred dollars more than i gave for it." "is it?" asked nicholas. "well, all have their tastes. i'd rather have what the ring cost in gold or government bonds." denton laughed. "i see you are a plain man with plain tastes," he said. "well, it takes all sorts of men to make a world, and i don't mind confessing that i like show." the same day they moved into the boarding-house. it was arranged that oliver, as before, should occupy the same room with his new guardian, and for his use a small extra bed was put in. "we are next-door neighbors," said denton, "i hope you won't find me an unpleasant neighbor. the fact is, i sleep like a top all night. never know anything from the minute i lie down till it's time to get up. are you gentlemen good sleepers?" "i sleep well," said nicholas. "it's with me very much as it is with you." "of course you sleep well, my young friend," said the new acquaintance to oliver. "boys of your age ought not to wake up during the night." "i believe i am a pretty good sleeper," said oliver. "why is he so particular about enquiring whether we sleep well?" thought our hero. he was not particularly inclined to suspicion, but somehow he had never liked mr. denton. the man's manner was hearty and cordial, but there was a sly, searching, crafty look which oliver had occasionally detected, which set him to thinking. not so with nicholas. he had seen much of men's treachery, he had suffered much from it also, but at heart he was disposed to judge favorably of his fellow-men, except where he had special reason to know that they were unreliable. "our neighbor seems very obliging," he said to oliver, after denton had left the room. "yes, sir," answered oliver. "i wonder why i don't like him." "don't like him!" repeated. nicholas in surprise. "no. i can't seem to trust him." "he appears pleasant enough," said mr. bundy. "a little vain, perhaps, or he wouldn't wear a thousand dollars on his finger. there wouldn't be many diamonds sold if all were like me." "i wonder what his business is?" "he has never told me. from what he says he probably lives upon his means." oliver did not continue the conversation. very likely his distrust was undeserved by the man who inspired it, and he did not feel justified in trying to prejudice mr. bundy against him. finding nicholas was tired in the evening, oliver went out after supper by himself. he was naturally drawn to the more brilliantly lighted streets, which, even at ten o'clock in the evening, were gay with foot passengers. sauntering along, he found himself walking behind two gentlemen, and could not avoid hearing their conversation. "do you see that man in front of us?" asked one. "the one with the diamond ring?" for the stone sparkled in the light. "yes; he is the one i mean." "what of him?" "he is one of the most notorious gamblers and confidence men in chicago." "indeed! what is his name?" "he has several--denton, forbes, cranmer, and half a dozen others." naturally oliver's curiosity was excited by what he heard. passing the speakers, he scanned the man of whom they had been conversing. it was denton--the man who had been so friendly to nicholas bundy and himself. "i was right in distrusting him," he thought. "he is a dangerous man. now, what shall i do?" oliver decided not to tell mr. bundy immediately of what he had heard; but, for his own part, he decided to watch carefully, lest denton might attempt in any way to injure them. chapter xxxiii. a midnight attack. oliver and his guardian retired about ten o'clock. mr. bundy was not long in going to sleep. unlike oliver, he had no care or anxiety on his mind. as we have said, he was not a man to harbor suspicion. with our hero it was different. he knew the real character of denton, and could not help fancying that he must have some personal object in bringing them to this house, and installing them in a room adjoining his own. oliver carefully locked the door, leaving the key in the lock. there was but one door, and this led into the hall. "now," thought our hero, "denton can't get in except through the keyhole." this ought to have quieted him for the night, but it did not. an indefinable suspicion, which he could not explain, made him uneasy. it was this, probably, that prompted him to go to the closet in which he knew that nicholas bundy kept a pistol. at times he placed the pistol under his pillow, but he had not done so to-night, considering it quite unnecessary in a quiet boarding-house. "i don't suppose there's any need of it," thought oliver; "but i'll take it and put it under my own pillow." nicholas bundy was already asleep. he was a sound sleeper and did not observe what oliver was doing, otherwise he would have asked an explanation. this might have been hard to give, except the chance knowledge he had gained of denton's character. an hour passed and still oliver remained awake. at about this time he heard a noise in the adjoining room as of someone moving about. "it is denton come home," he said to himself. presently the noise ceased, and oliver concluded that his disreputable neighbor had gone to bed. he began to be rather ashamed of his suspicions. "of course he can't get in here, since there is but one door, and that locked," he reflected. "it is foolish for me to lie awake all night. i may as well imitate mr. bundy's example and go to sleep." oliver was himself fatigued, having been about the streets all day, and now that his anxiety was relieved he, too, soon fell into a slumber. but his sleep was neither deep nor refreshing; it was troubled by dreams, or rather by one dream, in which denton figured. it was this, perhaps, that broke the bonds of sleep. at any rate, he found himself almost in an instant broad awake, with his eyes resting on a figure, clearly seen in the moonlight, standing beside nicholas bundy's bed examining the pockets of his coat and pantaloons, which rested on a chair close beside. immediately all his senses were on the alert. in one swift glance he saw all. the figure was that of denton, and an opening in the panel between the two rooms showed how he had got in. it was clear that this was a decoy house, especially intended to admit of such nefarious deeds. denton's back was turned to oliver, and he was quite unaware, therefore, that the boy had awakened. bundy lay before him in profound sleep, and from a careless glance he had concluded that the boy also was asleep. "now," thought oliver, "what shall i do? shall i shoot at once?" this course was repugnant to him. he had a horror of shedding blood unless it were absolutely necessary, but at the same time he was bold and resolute, and by no means willing to lie quietly and see his guardian robbed. it was certainly a critical moment, and required some courage to face and defy a midnight robber, who might himself be armed. but oliver was plucky, and didn't shrink. in a clear, distinct voice he asked: "what are you doing there?" denton wheeled round and saw oliver sitting up in bed. he had a black mask over his eyes, and thought he was not recognized. "confusion!" oliver heard him mutter, under his breath. "cover up your head, boy, and don't interfere with me, or i'll murder you!" he said in a low, stern voice. "i want to know what you are doing?" demanded our hero, undaunted. "none of your business. do as i tell you!" answered denton, in a menacing tone. "it is my business," said oliver firmly. "you have no business here, mr. denton. go back into your own room." denton started, and was visibly annoyed to find that he was recognized after all. "denton is not my name," he said. "you mistake me for somebody else." "denton is the name by which we know you," said oliver. "whether it is your real name or not i don't know or care. i know you have no business here, and you must leave instantly." denton laughed, a low, mocking laugh. "you crow well, my young bantam," he said; "but you're a fool, or you would know that i am not a man to be trifled with. cover up your head, and in five minutes you may uncover it again, and i will do you no harm." "no, but you'll rob mr. bundy, and i don't intend you shall do it." "you don't!" exclaimed the ruffian, in a tone of suppressed passion. "come, i must teach you a lesson!" he sprang toward oliver's bed, with the evident intention of doing him an injury, but our hero was prompt and prepared for the attack which he anticipated. he seized the pistol and presented it full at the approaching burglar, and said coolly: "don't be in a hurry, mr. denton. this pistol is loaded, and if you touch me i will shoot." denton stopped short, with a feeling bordering on dismay. it was a resistance he had not anticipated. indeed, he was so far from expecting any interference with his designs that he had come unprovided with any weapon himself. "the boy's fooling me!" it occurred to him. "i don't believe the pistol is loaded. i'll find out. you must be a fool to think i am afraid of an empty pistol," he said, looking searchingly at the boy's face. "you will find out whether it is loaded or not," said oliver coolly; "but i wouldn't advise you to try. just go through the same door you came in at, and i won't shoot." if it had been a man, denton would have seen that there was no further chance for him to carry out his design; but it angered him to give in to a boy. he felt that it was disgraceful to a man, whose strength could outmatch oliver twice over. besides, he had felt bundy's pocket-book, and he hated to leave the room without it. "i'll bribe the boy," he thought. "look here, boy," said he; "put down that weapon of yours. i want to speak to you." "go ahead!" said oliver. "you haven't laid down your pistol." "and i don't intend to," said oliver firmly. "i am not in the habit of entertaining company in my chamber at midnight, and i prefer to be on my guard." denton was enraged at the boy's coolness, but he dissembled the feeling. "oh, well," he said carelessly, "do as you please. now, i've got a proposal to make to you." "go ahead." "i'm very hard up, and i want money." "so i supposed." "the man you're with has plenty of it." "how do you know?" "confound you, why do you interrupt me? you know it as well as i. now, i want some of that money." "that is what you came in for." "yes, that is what i came in for. now, i'll tell you what i will do. i will take the money out of the pocketbook, and give you half, if you won't interfere. you can tell the old man that a burglar took the whole, and he'll believe you fast enough. so you see you will profit by it as well as i." "you don't know me, mr. denton," said oliver. "i am not a thief, and if i were i wouldn't rob the man that has been kind to me. i've heard all i want to, and you have stayed in this room long enough. if you don't disappear through that panel before i count three, i'll shoot you." with a muttered execration, denton obeyed, and once more oliver found himself alone. he got up and looked at his watch. it indicated a quarter to one. what should he do? the night was less than half-spent, and denton might attempt another entrance. "there is no help for it," thought oliver. "i must remain awake the rest of the night." chapter xxxiv. denton sees his intended victims escape. oliver was rejoiced to see the sunshine entering the window. he felt that his long vigil was over, and the danger was passed. he saw bundy's eyes open, and he spoke to him. "are you awake, mr. bundy?" "yes, oliver; i have slept well, though this is a new place." "i have not slept since midnight," said our hero. "why not? are you sick?" asked bundy anxiously. "no, i was afraid to sleep." then, in a few words, oliver sketched the events of the night, and added what he had heard about denton's character. "the skunk!" exclaimed bundy indignantly. "but why didn't you wake me up, oliver?" "i would, if there had been any need of it. i was able to manage him alone." "you're a brave boy, oliver," said bundy admiringly. "not many boys would have shown your pluck." "i don't know about that, mr. bundy," said oliver modestly. "you must remember that i had a pistol in my hand and had no need to be afraid." "it needed a brave heart and steady hand for all that. but now you must get some sleep. i am awake and there is no danger. if that skunk tries to get in he'll get a warm reception." oliver was glad to feel at liberty to sleep. he closed his eyes and did not open them again till nine o'clock. when he opened his eyes he saw bundy, already dressed, sitting in a chair beside the window. "hallo! it's late," he exclaimed; "isn't it, mr. bundy?" "nine o'clock." "haven't you had your breakfast?" "no; i am waiting for you." "why didn't you wake me up before? i don't like to keep you waiting." "my boy," said bundy in an affectionate tone, "it is the least i can do when you lay awake for me all night. i shall not soon forget your friendly devotion." "you mustn't flatter me, mr. bundy," said oliver. "you may make me vain." "i'll take the risk." "have you been out?" "yes; i went out to get a paper, and i have seen our landlady. i gave her warning--told her i should leave to-day." "what did she say?" "she seemed surprised and wanted to know my reasons. i told her that i wasn't used to midnight interruptions. she colored, but did not ask any explanation. i paid her, and we will move to-day back to our old quarters. now, when you are dressed, we will go and get some breakfast." "suppose we meet denton?" "he will keep out of our way. if he don't, i may take him by the collar and shake him out of his boots." "i guess you could do it, mr. bundy," said oliver, surveying the wiry, muscular form of his companion. "i should not be afraid to try," said nicholas, with a grim smile. after breakfast they arranged to remove their trunks back to their old quarters. "our stay here has been short, but it has been long enough," said nicholas. "next time we will put less confidence in fair words and a smooth tongue." they did not meet denton, but that gentleman was quite aware of their movements. from the window of his chamber he saw oliver and his guardian depart, and later he saw their luggage carried away. "so they've given me the slip, have they?" he soliloquized. "well, that doesn't end it. the old man is worth plucking, and the boy i am paid to watch. confound the young bantam! i will see that he don't crow so loud the next time we meet. but why does kenyon take such an interest in him? that's what i don't understand." denton took from his pocket a letter signed "benjamin kenyon," and read carefully the following passage: when you find the boy--and i think you cannot fail with the full description of himself and his companion which i send you--watch his movements. note especially whether he appears to have any communication with a woman who may claim to be his mother. probably they will not meet, but it is possible that they may. if so, it is important that i should be apprised at once, i will send you further instructions hereafter. denton folded the letter, and gave himself up to reflection. "why don't he take me into his confidence? why don't he tell me just what he wants, just what this woman and this boy are to him? i suppose i have made a mistake in showing my hand so soon, and incorporating a little scheme of my own with my principal's. but i was so very hard up i couldn't resist the temptation of trying to obtain a forced loan from the old man. if that cursed boy hadn't been awake i should have succeeded, and could then have given my attention to kenyon's instructions. i wonder, by the way, why he calls himself kenyon. when i knew him he was rupert jones, and he didn't particularly honor the name, either. well, time will make things clearer. now i must keep my clue, and ascertain where my frightened birds are flitting to." he went downstairs just as the expressman was leaving the house, and carelessly enquired where he was carrying the luggage. suspecting no harm, the expressman answered his question, and denton thanked him with a smile. "so far, so good," he thought. "that will save me some trouble." * * * * * the explanation of mr. kenyon's letter is briefly this. his visit south had done no good. he had had an interview with dr. fox, in which he had so severely censured the doctor that the latter finally became angry and defiant, and intimated that if pushed to extremity he would turn against kenyon, and make public the conspiracy in which he had joined, together with kenyon's motive in imprisoning his wife. this threat had the effect of cooling mr. kenyon's excitement, and a reconciliation was patched up. an attempt was made to trace mrs. kenyon through old nancy, but the faithful old colored woman was proof alike against threats, entreaties, and bribes, and steadily refused to give any information as to the plans of the refugee. indeed, she would have found it difficult to give any information of value, having heard nothing of mrs. kenyon since they parted at the railroad station. nancy would have been as much surprised as anyone to hear of the subsequent escape of her guest to chicago. mr. kenyon's greatest fear was lest oliver and his mother should meet. he knew the boy's resolute bravery, and feared the effects of his just resentment when he learned the facts of his mother's ill-treatment at the hands of his step-father. these considerations led to his opening communication with denton, whom he had known years before, when he was rupert jones. chapter xxxv. on the track. one day nicholas bundy entered the apartment occupied jointly by himself and oliver, his face wearing an expression of satisfaction. oliver looked up from the book he was engaged in reading. "i've found a clue, oliver," he exclaimed. "a clue to what, mr. bundy?" "to rupert jones. i have ascertained that when he left chicago he settled down at the town of kelso, about seventy-five miles from chicago, in indiana." "what do you propose to do?" "to go there at once. pack up your carpet-bag, and we will take the afternoon train." "all right, mr. bundy." oliver was by no means averse to a journey. he had a youthful love of adventure that delighted in new scenes and new experiences. at two o'clock they were at the depot, and bought tickets for kelso. they did not observe that they were watched narrowly by a red-headed man, whose eyes were concealed by a pair of green glasses. neither did they notice that he too purchased a ticket for kelso. this man was denton, who had so skilfully disguised himself with a red wig and the glasses that oliver, though his eyes casually fell upon him, never dreamed who he was. denton bought a paper and seated himself just behind oliver and his guardian, so that he might, under cover of the paper, listen to their conversation. "what business can they have at kelso?" he soliloquized. then partially answering his own question, "rupert jones once lived there, and their visit must have some connection with him. there's something behind all this that i don't understand myself. perhaps i shall find out. jones was always crafty, and, as far as he could, kept his own counsel." denton did not glean much information from the conversation between oliver and bundy. the latter, though he had no suspicion of being watched, did not care to converse on private matters in a public place. he was a man of prudence and kept his tongue under control. i have said that the three passengers bought tickets to kelso. kelso, however, was not on the road, and a stage for that place connected with the station at conway. through tickets, however, had been purchased, including stage tickets. it was about half-past five when the cars halted at conway. there was a small depot, and a covered wagon stood beside the platform. oliver, bundy, and denton alighted. "any passengers for kelso?" asked the driver of the wagon. "here are two," said oliver, pointing to bundy. "anyone else?" denton came forward, and in a low voice intimated that he was going to kelso. these three proved to be the only passengers. now, for the first time, oliver and his guardian looked with some curiosity at their fellow-traveller. "he's a queer-looking customer," thought oliver. bundy thought, "perhaps he lives at kelso, and can tell us something about it. i may obtain the information i want on the way there. i'll speak to him." "it's a pity we couldn't go all the way by cars," he said. "yes," said denton briefly. "do you know if our ride is a long one?" "six miles," answered denton, who had enquired. "may i ask if you live in kelso?" "no, sir," answered denton. "perhaps you can tell me if there is a hotel there?" "i don't know." by this time the stranger's evident disinclination to talk had attracted oliver's attention. he looked inquisitively at the man with green glasses. "there's something about that man's voice that sounds familiar," he said to himself. "where can i have seen him before?" still, the red wig and the glasses put him off the scent. denton grew uneasy under the boy's fixed gaze. "does he suspect me!" he thought. "it wouldn't do for me to speak again." when bundy asked another question, he said: "i hope you'll excuse me, sir, but i have a severe headache, and find it difficult to converse." "oh, certainly," apologized bundy. denton leaned his head against the back of the carriage in support of his assertion. the road was a bad one, jolting the vehicle without mercy. to oliver it was fun, but denton evidently did not relish it. at last one jolt came, nearly overturning the conveyance. it dislodged the green spectacles from denton's nose, and for a moment his eyes were exposed. he replaced them hurriedly, but not in time. oliver's sharp eyes detected him. "it's denton!" he exclaimed internally, but he controlled his surprise so far as not to say a word. "he is on our track," thought our hero. "what can be his purpose?" chapter xxxvi. denton is checkmated. oliver wished to communicate his discovery to bundy, but denton's presence interfered. his guardian was not an observant man, and thus far suspected nothing. before oliver obtained any opportunity the stage reached its destination. kelso was a village of moderate size. a small hotel provided accommodation for passing travellers. here the three stage passengers descended and sought accommodation. the house was almost empty, and no difficulty was experienced. denton registered his name as felix graham, from milwaukee. he registered first, and for a special reason, that the false name might divert suspicion, if any was entertained. "do you know our fellow-passenger, mr. bundy?" asked oliver, when they were in the room assigned them, preparing for supper. bundy looked surprised. "i only know that he is from milwaukee," he answered. oliver laughed. "my eyes are sharper than yours, mr. bundy," he said. "he is our old acquaintance, denton, who tried to rob you in chicago." nicholas bundy was amazed. "how do you know?" he asked. "surely it cannot be. denton had black hair." "and this man wears a red wig," said oliver. "are you sure of this?" asked nicholas thoughtfully. "i am certain." "when did you recognize him?" "in the stage, when his glasses came off." "what does this mean?" said bundy, half to himself. "it means that he is on our track," said oliver coolly. "but why? what object can he have?" "you have asked me too much. ask me some other conundrum." "can he hope to rob me again? it must be that." "we will see that he don't." "possibly he has some other object in view. i should like to know." "i'll tell you how to do it, mr. bundy. will you authorize me to manage?" "yes, oliver." "then i will take pains to mention in his presence before the landlord that we are going back to chicago in the morning, and wish to engage seats in the stage. if he is following us he will do the same." "a good idea, oliver." after supper denton took out a cigar, and began to smoke in the office of the inn. oliver enquired of the landlord: "when does the stage start in the morning?" "at eight o'clock." "can i engage two seats in it?" "yes, sir. your stay is short." "true, but our business takes little time to transact. let us have breakfast in time." denton listened, but made no movement. the next morning when the stage drew up before the door, not only oliver and bundy, but denton also, were standing on the piazza, with their carpet-bags, ready to depart. all got into the stage, and it set out. it had hardly proceeded half a mile when, by previous arrangement, bundy said suddenly: "oliver, i believe we must go back. there is one thing i quite forgot to attend to in kelso." "all right!" said oliver. "it makes no difference to me." the driver was signalled, and oliver and bundy got out. oliver glanced at denton. he looked terribly amazed, and seemed undecided whether to get out also. "good-morning, mr. graham," said oliver, with a great show of politeness. "i am sorry you will have a lonely ride." "good-by," muttered denton, and the stage rolled on. "he wanted to get out and follow us back," said oliver, "but he couldn't think of any excuse." "we have got rid of him," said bundy; "and now i must attend to the business that brought me here." on his return to the hotel he interviewed the landlord, and asked if he ever heard of a man named rupert jones. "i should think so," answered the landlord. "he cheated me out of a hundred dollars." "he did? how?" "by a forged check upon the bank of conway. i wish i could get hold of him!" he ended. nicholas bundy's eyes sparkled. "what could you do in that case?" he enquired. "what could i do? i could send him to state prison." "then you have preserved the forged check?" "yes, i have taken care of that." "mr. ferguson," said nicholas, "will you sell me that check for a hundred and fifty dollars?" "will you give it?" asked the landlord eagerly. "i will." "what is your object? is this man a friend of yours?" "no; he's my enemy. i want to get him into my power!" "then you shall have it for a hundred, and i hope you may catch him." in five minutes the change was effected. one object more nicholas had in view. he tried to ascertain what had become of rupert jones, but in this he was unsuccessful. no one in kelso had seen or heard of him for years. chapter xxxvii. denton's little adventure in the cars. when denton, to his infinite disgust, saw his scheme foiled by the return of oliver and bundy to the inn at kelso, he was strongly tempted to go back also. but prudence withheld him. it was by no means certain that he had been recognized. very probably bundy really went back on account of some slight matter which he had forgotten. denton was of opinion that his visit to kelso was not connected with the interest of his employer. therefore he decided to return to chicago and await the reappearance of oliver and bundy. undoubtedly they would return to the same hotel where they had been stopping. by the time he took his seat in the car he was in quite a philosophical frame of mind, and reconciled to the turn that events had taken. it would have been well for mr. denton if he had become involved in no new adventures, but his lucky star was not in the ascendant. he took a seat beside a stout, red-haired, coarse-featured man, with a mottled complexion, who might have been a butcher or a returned miner, but would hardly be taken for a "gentleman and a scholar." yet there was something about this man that charmed and fascinated denton. not to keep the reader in suspense, it was an enormous diamond breastpin which he wore conspicuously in his shirt-front. denton knew something about diamonds, and to his practised eyes it seemed that the pin was worth at least five thousand dollars. he only ventured to glance furtively at it, lest he should excite suspicion. the stout man proved to be sociable. "fine mornin'," he remarked. "it is, indeed," said denton, who had no objection to cultivating the acquaintance of the possessor of such a gem. "pleasant for travelling." "yes, so 'tis. speakin' of travelling i've travelled some in my time." "indeed," commented denton. "yes, i've just come from californy." "been at the mines?" "well, not exactly. when i fust went out i mined a little, but it didn't pay; so i set up a liquor saloon in the minin' deestrict, an' that paid." "i suppose it did." "of course it did. you see, them fellers got dry mighty easy, and they'd pay anything for a drink. when they hadn't silver, i took gold-dust, an' that way i got paid better." "you must have made money," said denton, getting more and more interested. "you bet i did. why, they used to call me the rich red-head. hallo! why, you're a red-head, too!" denton was about to disclaim the imputation, when he chanced to think of his red wig, and answered, with a smile: "queer, isn't it, that two red-heads should come together?" "your hair's redder than mine," said the stout man with a critical glance. "perhaps it is," said denton, who was not sensitive, since the hair belonged to a wig. "so you became rich?" "i went to california without fifty dollars in my pocket," said the other complacently. "now i can afford to wear this," and he pointed to the diamond. "dear me! why, what a splendid diamond!" exclaimed denton, as if he saw it for the first time. "it's a smasher, isn't it!" said the stout man proudly. "may i ask where you got it?" "i bought it of a poor cuss that drunk hisself to death. gave a thousand dollars for it!" "why, it must be worth more!" said denton almost involuntarily. "of course 'tis. it's worth three thousand easy." and two thousand on top of that, thought denton. he doesn't know the value of it. "how long have you had it?" he enquired. "risin' six months." "it's a beautiful thing," said denton. "are you going to stop in chicago, may i ask?" "maybe i'll stop a day, but i guess not. i live in vermont--that is, i was raised there. i'm goin' back to astonish the natives. when i left there i was a poor man, without money or credit. then nobody noticed me. i guess they will now," and he slapped his pockets significantly. "money makes the man," said denton philosophically. "so it does, so it does!" answered the stranger. then, with a loud laugh at his own wit, he added: "and man makes the money, too, i guess. ho, ho!" denton laughed as if he thought the joke a capital one. "by george, i never said a better thing!" said the stout man, apparently amazed at his own wit. "didn't you? then i pity you," thought denton. but he only said: "it's a good joke." "so 'tis, so 'tis. do you live in chicago?" "yes; i reside there for the present." "in business, eh?" "no, i have retired from business. i am living on my income," answered denton with unblushing effrontery. "got money, hey?" said the stout man respectfully. "i have some," answered denton modestly. "i am not as rich as you, of course. i can't afford to wear a breastpin worth thousands of dollars." "kinder gorgeous, aint it?" said the other complacently. "i like to make a show, i do. that's me. i like to have folks say, 'he's worth money.'" "only natural," said denton. "what a consummate ass!" he muttered to himself. there was a little more conversation, and then the stout man gaped and looked sleepy. "i didn't sleep much last night," he said. "i guess i'll get a nap if i can." "you'd better," said denton, an eager hope rising in his breast. "a man can't do without sleep." "of course he can't. you jest wake me up when we get to the depot." "have no trouble about that," said denton quickly. "i'll be sure to let you know." in less than five minutes the stranger was breathing heavily, his head thrown back and his eyes closed beneath the red handkerchief that covered his face. denton looked at him with glittering eyes. "if i only had that diamond," he said to himself, "my fortune would be made. i'd realize on it and go to europe till all was blown over." everything seemed favorable to his purpose. first, he was in disguise. he would not easily be identified as the thief by anyone who noticed his present appearance, since he would, as soon as he reached chicago, lay aside the glasses and the wig together. again, the man was asleep and off his guard. true, it was open day, and there were twenty other passengers in the car at the very least. but denton had experience. he had begun life as a pickpocket, though later he saw fit to direct his attention to gambling and other arts as, on the whole, a safer and more lucrative business. denton riveted his eyes covetously on the captivating diamond. his fingers itched to get hold of it. was it safe? a deep snore from the stout man seemed to answer him. "what a fool he is to leave such a jewel in open sight!" thought denton. "he deserves to lose it." an adroit movement, quick as a flash, and the pin was in his possession. he timed the movement just as the cars reached a way station, and he instantly rose, with the intention of leaving the car. but he reckoned without his host. as he rose to his feet his companion dashed the handkerchief from his face, rose also, and clutched him by the arm. "not so fast, mr. denton," he said, in a tone different from his former one. "you've made a little mistake." "let go, then!" said denton. "i am going to get out." "no, you are not. you are going back to chicago as my prisoner." "who are you?" demanded denton, startled. the red-headed man laughed. "i am pierce, the detective," he said. "we have long wanted to get hold of you, and i have succeeded at last, thanks to the diamond pin. by the way, the diamond is false--a capital imitation, but not worth over ten dollars. you may as well give it up." "is this true?" asked denton, his face showing his mortification. "you can rely upon it." "i'll buy it of you. i'll give you twenty dollars for it." "too late, my man. you must go back with me as a prisoner. suppose we take off our wigs. my hair is no more red than yours." he removed his wig, and now, in spite of his skin, which had been stained, denton recognized in him a well-known detective, whose name was a terror to evil-doers. "it's all up, i suppose," he said bitterly. "i don't mind the arrest so much as the being fooled and duped." "it's diamond cut diamond--ha! ha!" said the detective--"or, we'll say, red-head _versus_ red-head." when denton reached chicago he became a guest of the city--an honor he would have been glad to decline. chapter xxxviii. the meeting at lincoln park. for weeks oliver and his mother had lived in the same city, yet never met. each believed the other to be dead; each had mourned for the other. no subtle instinct led either to doubt the truth of the sad reports which, for base ends, mr. kenyon had caused to be circulated. but for her unhappy domestic troubles, mrs. conrad (for she had assumed the name of her first husband) was happily situated. mrs. graham was bound to her by the devoted care which she had taken of the little florette. indeed, the bereaved woman had come to love the little girl almost as if she were her own, and had voluntarily assumed the constant care of her, though regarded as a guest in the house. mr. graham was very wealthy, and his house, situated on the boulevard, was as attractive as elegance and taste, unhampered by a regard for expense, could make it. a spacious, well-appointed chamber was assigned to mrs. conrad, and she lived in a style superior to which she had been accustomed. surely it was a fortunate haven into which her storm-tossed bark had drifted. if happiness could be secured by comfort or luxury, then she would have been happy. but neither comfort nor luxury can satisfy the heart, and it was the heart which, in her case, had suffered a severe wound. one day, as mrs. graham and mrs. conrad sat together, the little florette in the arms of the latter, mrs. graham said: "i am afraid you let that child burden you, mrs. conrad. she never gives you a moment to yourself." mrs. conrad smiled sadly. "i don't wish to have a moment to myself. when i am alone, and with nothing to occupy me, i give myself up to sad thoughts of the happiness i once enjoyed." "i understand," said mrs. graham gently, for she was familiar with mrs. conrad's story. "i can understand what it must be to lose a cherished son." "if he had only been spared to me i believe i could bear without a murmur the loss of fortune, and live contentedly in the deepest poverty." "no doubt; but would that be necessary? certainly your husband has no claim to the fortune, which he withholds from you." "i suppose not." "if you should make the effort you could doubtless get it back." "probably i could." "you had better let me ask mr. graham to select a reliable lawyer whom you could consult with reference to it." mrs. conrad shook her head. "let him have it," she said. "i care nothing for money. as long as you, my dear friend, are content to give me a home i am happier here than i could be with him." "my dear mrs. conrad, it would indeed grieve me if anything should take you from us, even if to your own advantage. you see how selfish i am? but i can't bear to think that that brutal husband of yours is enjoying your money, and thus reaping the benefit of his bad deeds." "sometimes i feel so," mrs. conrad admitted. "if oliver were alive i should feel more like asserting my rights, but now all ambition has left me. if i should institute proceedings i should be compelled to return to new york, where everything would remind me of my sad loss. no, my dear friend, your advice is no doubt meant for the best, but i prefer to leave mr. kenyon in ignorance of my whereabouts and to keep away from his vicinity. you don't want me to go away, florette, do you?" "don't doe away," pleaded the little girl, putting her arms round mrs. conrad's neck. "you little darling!" said mrs. conrad, returning the embrace. "i have something to live for while you love me." "i love you so much," said the child. "i don't know but what i shall become jealous," said mrs. graham playfully. "go and tell your mamma that you love her best," said mrs. conrad. she felt that a mother's claim was first, beyond all others. nothing would have induced her to come between florette and the affection which she owed to her mother. little florette ran to her mother and climbed in her lap. "i love you best, mamma," she said, "but i love my other mamma, too." "and quite right, my dear child," said mrs. graham, with a bright smile. "it was but in jest, mrs. conrad. no mother who deserves her child's love need fear rivalry. florette's heart is large enough and warm enough to love us both." mrs. conrad rejoiced in the liberty to love florette and to be loved by her, and if ever she forgot her special cause of sorrow it was when she had the little girl in her arms. "i have a favor to ask of you, mrs. conrad," said mrs. graham, a little later. "it is granted already." "this afternoon i want to pay some calls. will you be willing to go out with florette?" "most certainly. i shall be glad to do so." "i am sorry i cannot place the carriage at your disposal, as i should like to use it myself." "oh, we can manage without it. can't we, florette?" "let us yide in the horse-cars," said the little girl. "i like to yide in the cars better than in mamma's carriage." "it shall be as you like, florette," said mrs. conrad. florette clapped her little hands. accustomed to ride in the carriage, it was a change and variety to her to ride in the more democratic conveyance, the people's carriage. mrs. conrad, intent on amusing her little charge, decided to take her to lincoln park, in the northern division of the city. this is a beautiful pleasure-ground, comprising over two hundred acres, with fine trees, miniature lakes and streams, and is a favorite resort for children and their guardians, especially on saturday afternoons, when there are open-air concerts. it was a bright, sunny day, and even mrs. conrad felt her spirits enlivened as she descended from the cars, and, entering the park, mingled with the gay throngs who were giving themselves up to enjoyment. little florette wanted to go to the lake, and her companion yielded to her request. it was early autumn. the trees had lost none of their full, rich foliage, and the lawns were covered with soft verdure. little florette laughed and clapped her hands with childish hilarity. mrs. conrad sat down on the grass, while florette ran hither and thither as caprice dictated. "don't go far away, florette," said mrs. conrad. "no, i won't," said the child. but a child's promises are soon forgotten. she ran to the lake, and while standing on the brink managed to tumble in. it was not deep, yet for a little child there was danger. florette screamed, and mrs. conrad, hearing her cry, sprang to her feet in dismay. but florette found a helper. oliver had strayed out to lincoln park like the rest in search of enjoyment, and was standing close at hand when the little girl fell into the lake. it was the work of an instant to plunge in and rescue the little girl. then he looked about to find out to whom he should yield her up. his eyes fell upon mrs. conrad hastening to her young charge. as yet she had not noticed oliver. she only saw florette. oliver's heart gave a great bound. could it be his mother--his mother whom he believed dead--or was it only a wonderful resemblance? "mother!" he exclaimed, almost involuntarily. at that word mrs. conrad turned her eyes upon him. she, too, was amazed, and something of awe crept over her as she looked upon one whom she thought a tenant of the tomb. "oliver!" she said wistfully, and in an instant he was folded in her arms. "then it is you, mother, and you are not dead!" exclaimed oliver joyfully, kissing her. "did you think me dead, then? mr. kenyon wrote me that you were dead." "mr. kenyon is a scoundrel, mother; but i can forgive him--i can forgive everybody, since you are alive." "god is indeed good to me. i will never murmur again," ejaculated mrs. conrad, with heartfelt gratitude. "but, mother, i don't understand. how came you here--in chicago?" "come home with me, oliver, and you shall hear. my little florette's clothes are wet, and i must take her home immediately." a cab was hired, for delay might be dangerous. on the way mrs. conrad and oliver exchanged confidences. oliver's anger was deeply stirred by the story of his mother's incarceration in a mad-house. "i take back what i said. i won't forgive mr. kenyon after that!" he said. "he shall bitterly repent what he has done!" chapter xxxix. the common enemy. mrs. graham heartily sympathized in the joy of the mother and son, who, parted by death, as each supposed, had come together so strangely. "you look ten years younger, mrs. conrad," she declared. "i never saw such a transformation." "it is joy that has done it, my dear friend. i was as one without hope or object in life. now i have both." "your husband has your fortune yet." "i care not for that. oliver is more to me than money." "thank you, mother," said oliver; "but we must be practical, too. i have learned that money is a good thing to have. mr. kenyon has been led to wrong us, and make us unhappy, by his greed for money. we will punish him by depriving him of it." "i quite agree with you, oliver," said mr. graham, who was present. "your step-father should be punished in the way he will feel it the most." "what course would you advise me to pursue, mr. graham?" asked oliver. "i am not prepared with an immediate answer. we will speak of it to-morrow." learning how much kindness oliver had received from nicholas bundy, mrs. conrad invited him to bring his friend with him in the evening, and the invitation was cordially seconded by mr. graham. nicholas was overjoyed to hear of the good fortune of oliver, but hesitated at first to accept the invitation. "i'm a rough backwoodsman, oliver," he said. "in my early life i was not so much a stranger to society, but now i shan't know how to behave." "you underrate yourself, mr. bundy," said oliver. "i can promise you won't feel awkward in my mother's society, and mrs. graham is very much like her." nicholas looked doubtful. "you judge me by yourself, my boy," he answered. "boys adapt themselves to ladies' society easy, but i'm an old crooked stick that don't lay straight with the rest of the pile." "i don't care what you are, mr. bundy," said oliver, with playful imperiousness; "my mother wants to see you, and come you must!" nicholas bundy laughed. "well, oliver," he said, "things seem turned round, and you have become my guardian. well, if it must be, it must, but i'm afraid you'll be ashamed of me." "if i am, mr. bundy, set me down as a conceited puppy," said oliver warmly. "haven't you been my kind and constant friend?" nicholas looked pleased at oliver's warm-hearted persistence. "i'll go, oliver," he said. "come to think of it, i should like to see your mother." when nicholas and oliver entered the elegant graham mansion, the former looked a little uneasy, but his countenance lighted up when mrs. conrad, her face genial with smiles, thanked him warmly for his kindness to her boy. "i couldn't help it, ma'am," he said. "i've got nobody to care for except him, and i hope you'll let me look after him a little still." "i shall never wish to come between you, mr. bundy. i am glad that he has found in you a kind and faithful friend. his step-father, as you know, has been his worst enemy and mine. i hoped he would prove a kind and faithful guardian to my boy, but i have been bitterly disappointed." "he's a regular scamp, as far as i can learn," said nicholas bluntly. "you haven't got a picture of him, have you? i should like to know how the villain looks." "i have," said oliver. "this morning, in looking over my carpet-bag, i found an inner pocket, in which was a photograph of mr. kenyon. i believe roland once used the bag, and in that way probably it got in." "have you the picture here?" asked mr. bundy. "here it is," answered oliver, drawing it from his pocket. nicholas took it, and as he examined it his face wore a look of amazement. "who did you say this was?" he asked. "mr. kenyon." "your step-father?" "yes." "it is very singular," he remarked, in an undertone, his face still wearing the same look of wonder. "what is very singular, mr. bundy?" oliver asked curiously. "i'll tell you," answered nicholas bundy slowly. "this picture, which you say is the picture of your step-father, is the picture of rupert jones, my early enemy." both oliver and his mother uttered exclamations of surprise. "can this be true, mr. bundy?" "there is no doubt about it, ma'am. it is a face i can never forget. there is the same foxy look about the eyes--the same treacherous smile. i should know that face anywhere, and i would swear to it in any court in the united states." "but the name! my step-father's name is kenyon." "names are easily changed, oliver, my boy. the man's real name is rupert jones. i don't care what he calls himself now. he's misused us all. he's been my worst enemy, as well as yours, ma'am, and yours, oliver. now, i move we both join forces and punish him." "there's my hand, mr. bundy," said oliver. "he's your husband, ma'am," said nicholas, "what do you say?" "i was mad to marry him; i will never live with him again. i am out of patience with myself when i think that through my means i have brought misfortune upon my son." "i don't look upon it just that way, ma'am," said bundy. "but for that, i might never have met oliver or you, and that would have been a great misfortune. he's played a desperate game, but we've got the trump cards in our hand, and we'll take his tricks." "i fear that he may harm you," said mrs. conrad. "he is a bad man." "that is true enough, but i think i shall prove a match for him. i've got a little document in my pocket which i think will check-mate him." "what is that?" "a note which he has forged. i picked it up at kelso." the next day a consultation was held, and it was decided that oliver and his mother and mr. bundy should go on to new york at once, and that hostilities should be initiated against mr. kenyon. during the day a note was received from the city prison, to this effect: i have a secret of importance to your young friend, to divulge. come and see me. denton. "shall you go, mr. bundy?" asked oliver. "certainly. it is worth while to strengthen our evidence as much as possible." "may i go with you?" "i wish you would. you are the most interested, and it is proper that you should be present." there was no opposition made on the part of the authorities, and oliver and mr. bundy were introduced into the presence of the prisoner. denton smiled. "you see i'm hauled up for moral repairs," he said coolly. "well, it's my luck." "did you have a pleasant return from kelso, mr. denton?" asked oliver. "so you recognized me?" "yes, in spite of your red wig!" "someone else recognized me, too--a detective. that is why i am here. but let us proceed to business." "go on." "i can give you information of importance touching this boy's step-father." "perhaps we know it already." "it is hardly likely. his name is not kenyon. i can tell you his real name." "it is rupert jones," said bundy. "where the deuce did you learn that?" asked denton, astonished. "i recognized his picture. is that all you have to tell us?" "no. i have been in his employ. as his agent, i dogged you." "prove that to us, and we will give you a hundred dollars." "make it a hundred and fifty." "done!" denton placed in the hands of nicholas bundy his letters of instruction from mr. kenyon. "they will help our case," said nicholas. "i think we shall be able to bring our common enemy to terms." chapter xl. the thunderbolt falls. mr. kenyon returned from the south baffled in his enquiries about his wife. henceforth his life was one unceasing anxiety. he had pretended that his wife was dead, and she might at any time return alive to the village. this would place him in a very disagreeable position. he might, indeed, say that she was insane, and that he had been compelled to place her in an asylum. but everybody would ask: "why did you not say this before? why report that your wife was dead?" and he would be unprepared with an answer. indeed, he feared that the discovery of his conduct would make him legally liable to an unpleasant extent. we already know that he had employed denton to dog the steps of oliver and bundy. all at once denton ceased to communicate with him. for five days not a word had come to him from chicago. he naturally felt disturbed. "what has got into denton? why doesn't he write to me? can he have betrayed me?" this is what he said to himself one morning as he sat at his desk in the house which had once been his wife's. "if i could only sell this place even at a sacrifice, i would go to europe, taking roland with me," he muttered. "even as it is, perhaps it will be as well." mr. kenyon looked at the morning paper, searching for the advertisement of the cunard line. "a steamer sails on saturday," he read, "and it is now tuesday. i will go to the city to-morrow and engage passage. in europe i shall be safe. then if my wife turns up i need not fear her." at this point a servant--one recently engaged--came to the door of his room and informed him that a gentleman wished to see him. "do you know who it is?" he enquired. "no, sir. i never saw him before." "bring him up, then; or, stay--is he in the parlor?" "yes, sir." "i will see him there." mr. kenyon came downstairs quite unprepared for the visitor who awaited him. he started back when his glance fell on oliver. "why do you come here?" he demanded with a frown. "that is a strange question to ask, mr. kenyon. this is the house where i was born. it was built by my father. it ought to be mine." "indeed!" answered kenyon, with a sneer. "you know it as well as i do, sir." "i know that the place is mine, and that you are an intruder." "upon what do you rest your claim, mr. kenyon?" asked our hero. "upon your mother's will, as you know very well." "i don't believe that my mother would make a will depriving me of my rightful inheritance." "i care very little what you believe. the will has been admitted to probate and is in force. i don't think it will do you any good to dispute it." "where did my mother die, mr. kenyon?" demanded oliver, looking fixedly at his step-father. "can he have met his mother?" thought kenyon, momentarily disturbed. but he inwardly decided in the negative. of course they might meet some day, but then he would be in europe and out of harm's reach. "you know very well where she died." "do you object to tell me?" "i object to answering foolish questions. what is your motive in reviving this melancholy subject?" "i want to ask you to have my mother's remains brought to this town and laid beside the body of my father in our family tomb." "he is still in the dark!" thought mr. kenyon. "impossible!" he answered. "that's true enough," thought oliver. "have you any other business?" asked his step-father. "i wish you to give me a fair portion of the property which my mother left." mr. kenyon smiled disagreeably. he felt his power. "really, your request is very modest," he answered, "but it can't be complied with." "mr. kenyon, do you think it right to deprive me of all share in my father's property?" "you have forfeited it by your misconduct," said his step-father decisively. just then the door opened, and roland entered. "has he come back?" he demanded disagreeably. "he has favored us with a call, roland," said mr. kenyon. "he thought we might be glad to see him." "i wonder he has the face to show himself in this house," said roland. "why?" asked oliver. "oh, you know why well enough. you are a common thief." "roland kenyon, you will see the time when you will regret that insult, and that very soon," said oliver, with honest indignation. "oh, shall i? i'm not afraid of you," retorted roland. "i permit no threats here," said mr. kenyon angrily. "he is safe for the present," said oliver. "thank you for nothing," said roland. "father, how long are you going to let him stay in the house?" "that is not for your father to say, roland," said oliver coolly. "what do you mean, you young reprobate?" demanded the step-father angrily. "if you have come here to make a disturbance, you have come to the wrong place, and selected the wrong man. will you oblige me by leaving the house?" oliver sat near the window. he saw, though neither of the others did, that a carriage stood at the gate, and that nicholas bundy and a new york lawyer were descending from it. the time had now come for a change of tone. "mr. kenyon," he said, "my answer is briefly that this house is not yours. i have a better right here than you." "this insolence is a little too much!" exclaimed his step-father, pale with passion. "leave this house instantly or i will have you put out!" before there could be an answer the bell rang. mr. kenyon put a restraint on himself. "go out at once," he said, "i have other visitors who require my attention." the door opened, and the lawyer and mr. bundy were admitted. to mr. kenyon's surprise both nodded to oliver. it was revealed to him that they were his friends. "gentlemen," he said, with less courtesy than he would otherwise have shown, "i do not know you. i am occupied, and cannot spare you any time this morning." "we cannot excuse you, mr. kenyon," said nicholas bundy. "we come here as the friends of this boy, your step-son. my companion is mr. brief, a lawyer, and my name is bundy--nicholas bundy." mr. kenyon winced at this name. "i don't understand you," he said. "we have no business together. i must request you to excuse me." "plain words are best," said the lawyer. "mr. kenyon, i am authorized to demand your instant relinquishment of the property and estates of the late mr. conrad." "in whose favor?" asked mr. kenyon, whose manner betrayed agitation. "in favor of oliver conrad and his mother." "his mother is dead!" said kenyon nervously; "and by her will the property is mine." "the will is a forgery." "take care what you say, sir. i require you to prove it." "i shall prove it by mrs. conrad herself." as he spoke, mrs. conrad, who had been in the carriage, entered the room. she never spoke to her husband, but sat down quietly, while roland stared at her, open-mouthed, as at one from the grave. "father," he exclaimed, "didn't you tell me she was dead?" "she never died, but was incarcerated by your father in an insane asylum, while he forged a will bequeathing him the property," said the lawyer. "well, mr. kenyon, what have you to say?" "gentlemen, the game is up," said kenyon sullenly. "i played for high stakes, and have lost. that's all." "you have placed yourself in the power of the wife you have wronged. you could be indicted for forgery and conspiracy. do you admit that?" "i suppose i must." "what have you to say why we should not so proceed?" "spare me, and i will go away and trouble you no more." "first, you must render an account of the property in your possession, and make an absolute surrender of it all." "would you leave me a beggar?" asked kenyon, in a tone of anguish. "if so, we should only treat you as you treated your step-son. but my client is merciful. she is willing to allow you and your son an annuity of five hundred dollars each, on condition that you leave this neighborhood and do not return to it." "it is small, but i accept," said mr. kenyon sullenly. "for your own good, i advise you to go to-day, before your treatment of your wife becomes known in the village," said mr. brief. "call at my office in the city, and business arrangements can be made there." "i am willing," said kenyon. "wait a minute, kenyon," said nicholas bundy, "i've got a word of advice. don't go to kelso, in indiana." "why not?" asked kenyon mechanically. "because you look so much like a certain rupert jones, who once flourished and forged there, that there might be trouble. i used to know rupert jones myself, and he did me an injury. you remember that. i have wanted to be revenged for years, but i am satisfied now. once you were up and i was down. now it's the other way. i am rich, and when i die, that boy"--pointing to oliver--"is my heir." roland looked as if a thunderbolt had fallen. he had never been aware of his father's perfidy before. he had himself acted meanly, but at that moment oliver pitied him. "roland," said he, "i once thought i should enjoy this moment, but i don't. i wish you good luck. will you take my hand?" roland's thin lips compressed. he hesitated, but hate prevailed. "no," he answered. "i won't take your hand. i hate you!" "i am sorry for it," said oliver. "i am glad you won't be unprovided for, and won't suffer. if ever you feel differently, come to me." mr. kenyon and roland left the house together, and took the first train for the city. they called at the office of mr. brief, and the final arrangements were concluded. oliver and his mother came back to their own, and nicholas bundy came to live with them. oliver concluded his preparations for college, where in due time he graduated. three years later mr. kenyon died, by a strange coincidence, in an insane asylum. then roland, chastened by suffering and privation, for his father had squandered their joint allowance on drink, and many times he had fasted for twenty-four hours together, came back to his old home, and sought a reconciliation with those he had once hated. he was generously received, a mercantile position was found for him, his old allowance was doubled, and he grew to like oliver as much as he had once detested him. if mrs. conrad is ever married again it will be to mr. bundy, who is her devoted admirer. oliver has decided to become a lawyer. if he carries out his purpose, he will always be ready to champion the cause of the poor and the oppressed. he is engaged to carrie dudley, and the wedding will take place immediately after he is admitted to the bar. the clouds are dispersed, and henceforth, we may hope, his pathway will be lighted by sunshine to the end. horatio alger, jr. the enormous sales of the books of horatio alger, jr., show the greatness of his popularity among the boys, and prove that he is one of their most favored writers. i am told that more than half a million copies altogether have been sold, and that all the large circulating libraries in the country have several complete sets, of which only two or three volumes are ever on the shelves at one time. if this is true, what thousands and thousands of boys have read and are reading mr. alger's books! his peculiar style of stories, often imitated but never equaled, have taken a hold upon the young people, and, despite their similarity, are eagerly read as soon as they appear. mr. alger became famous with the publication of that undying book, "ragged dick, or street life in new york." it was his first book for young people, and its success was so great that he immediately devoted himself to that kind of writing. it was a new and fertile field for a writer then, and mr. alger's treatment of it at once caught the fancy of the boys. "ragged dick" first appeared in 1868, and ever since then it has been selling steadily, until now it is estimated that about 200,000 copies of the series have been sold. --"pleasant hours for boys and girls." a writer for boys should have an abundant sympathy with them. he should be able to enter into their plans, hopes, and aspirations. he should learn to look upon life as they do. boys object to be written down to. a boy's heart opens to the man or writer who understands him. --from "writing stories for boys," by horatio alger, jr. ragged dick series. 6 vols. by horatio alger, jr. $6.00 ragged dick. fame and fortune. mark the match boy. rough and ready. ben the luggage boy. rufus and rose. tattered tom series--first series. 4 vols. by horatio alger, jr. $4.00 tattered tom. paul the peddler. phil the fiddler. slow and sure. tattered tom series--second series. 4 vols. $4.00 julius. the young outlaw. sam's chance. the telegraph boy. campaign series. 3 vols. by horatio alger, jr. $3.00 frank's campaign. paul prescott's charge. charlie codman's cruise. luck and pluck series--first series. 4 vols. by horatio alger, jr. $4.00 luck and pluck. sink or swim. strong and steady. strive and succeed. luck and pluck series--second series. 4 vols. $4.00 try and trust. bound to rise. risen from the ranks. herbert carter's legacy. brave and bold series. 4 vols. by horatio alger, jr. $4.00 brave and bold. jack's ward. shifting for himself. wait and hope. victory series. 3 vols. by horatio alger, jr. $3.00 only an irish boy. victor vane, or the young secretary. adrift in the city. frank and fearless series. 3 vols. by horatio alger, jr. $3.00 frank hunter's peril. the young salesman. frank and fearless. good fortune library. 3 vols. by horatio alger, jr. $3.00 walter sherwood's probation. the young bank messenger. a boy's fortune. how to rise library. 3 vols. by horatio alger, jr. $3.00 jed, the poorhouse boy. lester's luck. rupert's ambition. complete catalog of best books for boys and girls mailed on application to the publishers the john c. winston co., philadelphia the john c. winston co.'s popular juveniles. j. t. trowbridge. neither as a writer does he stand apart from the great currents of life and select some exceptional phase or odd combination of circumstances. he stands on the common level and appeals to the universal heart, and all that he suggests or achieves is on the plane and in the line of march of the great body of humanity. the jack hazard series of stories, published in the late _our young folks_, and continued in the first volume of _st. nicholas_, under the title of "fast friends," is no doubt destined to hold a high place in this class of literature. the delight of the boys in them (and of their seniors, too) is well founded. they go to the right spot every time. trowbridge knows the heart of a boy like a book, and the heart of a man, too, and he has laid them both open in these books in a most successful manner. apart from the qualities that render the series so attractive to all young readers, they have great value on account of their portraitures of american country life and character. the drawing is wonderfully accurate, and as spirited as it is true. the constable, sellick, is an original character, and as minor figures where will we find anything better than miss wansey, and mr. p. pipkin, esq. the picture of mr. dink's school, too, is capital, and where else in fiction is there a better nick-name than that the boys gave to poor little stephen treadwell, "step hen," as he himself pronounced his name in an unfortunate moment when he saw it in print for the first time in his lesson in school. on the whole, these books are very satisfactory, and afford the critical reader the rare pleasure of the works that are just adequate, that easily fulfill themselves and accomplish all they set out to do.--_scribner's monthly._ jack hazard series. 6 vols. by j. t. trowbridge $7.25 jack hazard and his fortunes. the young surveyor. fast friends. doing his best. a chance for himself. lawrence's adventures. charles asbury stephens. this author wrote his "camping out series" at the very height of his mental and physical powers. "we do not wonder at the popularity of these books; there is a freshness and variety about them, and an enthusiasm in the description of sport and adventure, which even the older folk can hardly fail to share."--_worcester spy._ "the author of the camping out series is entitled to rank as decidedly at the head of what may be called boys' literature."--_buffalo courier._ camping out series. by c. a. stephens. all books in this series are 12mo. with eight full page illustrations. cloth, extra, 75 cents. camping out. as recorded by "kit." "this book is bright, breezy, wholesome, instructive, and stands above the ordinary boys' books of the day by a whole head and shoulders."--_the christian register_, boston. left on labrador; or, the cruise of the schooner yacht "curlew." as recorded by "wash." "the perils of the voyagers, the narrow escapes, their strange expedients, and the fun and jollity when danger had passed, will make boys even unconscious of hunger."--_new bedford mercury._ off to the geysers; or the young yachters in iceland. as recorded by "wade." "it is difficult to believe that wade and read and kit and wash were not live boys, sailing up hudson straits, and reigning temporarily over an esquimaux tribe."--_the independent_, new york. lynx hunting: from notes by the author of "camping out." "of _first quality_ as a boys' book, and fit to take its place beside the best."--_richmond enquirer._ fox hunting. as recorded by "read." "the most spirited and entertaining book that has as yet appeared. it overflows with incident, and is characterized by dash and brilliancy throughout."--_boston gazette._ on the amazon; or, the cruise of the "rambler." as recorded by "wash." "gives vivid pictures of brazilian adventure and scenery."--_buffalo courier._ the renowned standard juveniles by edward s. ellis edward s. ellis is regarded as the later day cooper. his books will always be read for the accurate pen pictures of pioneer life they portray. list of titles deerfoot series hunters of the ozark. the last war trail. camp in the mountains. log cabin series lost trail. footprints in the forest. camp fire and wigwam. boy pioneer series ned in the block-house. ned on the river. ned in the woods. the northwest series two boys in wyoming. cowmen and rustlers. a strange craft and its wonderful voyage. boone and kenton series shod with silence. in the days of the pioneers. phantom of the river. war chief series red eagle. blazing arrow. iron heart, war chief of the iroquois. the new deerfoot series deerfoot in the forest. deerfoot on the prairie. deerfoot in the mountains. true grit series jim and joe. dorsey, the young inventor. secret of coffin island. great american series teddy and towser; or, early days in california. up the forked river. colonial series an american king. the cromwell of virginia. the last emperor of the old dominion. foreign adventure series lost in the forbidden land. river and jungle. the hunt of the white elephant. paddle your own canoe series the forest messengers. the mountain star. queen of the clouds. arizona series off the reservation; or, caught in an apache raid. trailing geronimo; or, campaigning with crook. the round-up; or, geronimo's last raid. other titles in preparation price $1.00 per volume sold separately and in set complete catalogue of famous alger books, celebrated castlemon books and renowned ellis books mailed on application. the john c. winston co. philadelphia, pa. transcriber's notes italics are denoted by _underscore_. minor punctuation errors corrected: added several periods, removed extraneous quotes. occasional inconsistency in hyphenation has been retained. a few instances of exclamation points at the end of questions have been retained. p41: "immiment" corrected to "imminent" p93: "loyality" corrected to "loyalty" p187: added "you": "i hope you are well, carrie" p214: duplicated word removed 'was' p254: "gnardian" replaced with "guardian" p285: "power?": corrected to "power!" p289: "gave a thousand dollars for it?" corrected to "gave a thousand dollars for it!" p289: speech marks removed from "and two thousand..." and "he doesn't know....", retained around "how long have you had it?" generously made available by the internet archive.) on the state of lunacy and the legal provision for the insane, with observations on the construction and organization of asylums. by john t. arlidge, m.b., a.b. (lond.), licentiate of the royal college of physicians; associate of king's college, london; physician to the west of london hospital; formerly medical superintendent of st. luke's hospital, and physician to the surrey dispensary, etc. london: john churchill, new burlington street. 1859. printed by taylor and francis, red lion court, fleet street. to the right honourable the earl of shaftesbury, chairman of the commission of lunacy, whose long-continued and untiring efforts in behalf of the insane have earned for him the highest esteem and admiration of all who feel interested in the welfare of that class of the afflicted, this treatise is, by permission, respectfully dedicated by his lordship's most obedient humble servant, the author. preface. the writer of a book is usually expected to show cause for its production,--a custom which, however commendable as a sort of homage to his readers for challenging their attention to his lucubrations, must often put the ingenuity of an author to the test. indeed the writer of this present treatise would feel some embarrassment in accounting for its production, did he not entertain the conviction that he has, in however imperfect a manner, supplied a work on several important subjects which have never before been so placed before the public, and which, moreover, occupy just now a most prominent position among the topics of the day. in the last parliament, up to the period of its dissolution, a special committee of the house of commons was engaged in examining into the condition of lunatics and the laws of lunacy; and the present government has re-appointed the committee, in order to resume the inquiry preparatory to the introduction of new enactments into the legislature. the subjects treated of in the following pages relate to the same matters which have engaged the attention of parliament, and elicited the special inquiry mentioned, viz. the present state of lunacy and of the legal provision for the insane with reference to their future wants. in order to a better appreciation of the existing provision for the insane, and of its defects, the author has introduced certain preliminary chapters on the number of the insane, on the increase of insanity, on the inadequacy of the existing public provision for the insane, and on the curability of insanity. in reviewing the character and extent of the provisions for the insane, the course adopted has been to regard them in reference to their effects on recovery, and to discover the conditions inimical to it, whether without or within asylums. hence the evils of private treatment and of workhouse detention of lunatics, particularly of the latter, have largely claimed attention. the condition of pauper lunatics boarded with their friends or with strangers demanded special notice, as did the long-complained-of evils of sending unfit cases to the county asylums, often to the exclusion of recent and curable ones, which might by proper treatment be restored to health and society. turning to the consideration of our public asylums, considered as curative institutions, the disposition to extend them to an unmanageable size, and to substitute routine for treatment, has called for animadversion, as an error pregnant with numerous evils to their afflicted inmates. another error pointed out is that of appointing too small a medical staff to asylums; and in proving this, as well as in estimating the proper size of asylums, the experience and opinions of both english and foreign physicians are copiously referred to. the future provision for the insane forms an important chapter, which, in order to consider the several schemes proposed, is divided into several sections, viz. concerning the propriety of building separate asylums for recent and for chronic cases--of constructing distinct sections--of distributing certain patients in cottage homes--of erecting separate institutions for epileptics and for idiots. the registration of lunatics has appeared to the author's mind of so great necessity and value that he has devoted several pages to unfold his views and to meet probable objections; and, in order to render the plan effectual, he has propounded as a complementary scheme the appointment of district medical officers, and entered into detail respecting the duties to be imposed upon them. viewing the commission of lunacy as the pivot upon which any system of supervising and protecting all classes of lunatics must turn, it became necessary to examine into the capability of the present board for its duties; and the result of that examination is, that this board is inadequate to the effectual performance of the duties at present allotted to it, and that it would be rendered still more so by the adoption of any scheme for a thoroughly complete inspection and guardianship of all lunatics. this conclusion suggests the proposition to enlarge the commission, chiefly or wholly, by the appointment of assistant commissioners, charged particularly with the duties of inspectors. the concluding chapter, on asylum construction, may be considered supplementary. its chief intent is to develope a principle generally ignored, although (unless the arguments in support of it fail) one of great importance if asylums are to serve, not as simple refuges for lunatics, but as instruments for treating them. this _résumé_ of the heads of subjects discussed in the ensuing pages will, on the one hand, show that the present is not to be reckoned as a medical treatise, but as one addressed to all who are interested either in the legislation for lunatics or in their well-being and treatment; and, on the other, make good, it is trusted, the assertion that it occupies an untrodden field in the literature of insanity, and that its matter is good, even should its manner be thought not so. assuming the publication of the book to be justifiable, it only remains for the author to add that he has not undertaken its composition without bringing to the task thirteen years' study and practical experience among the insane, treated in private houses, in licensed houses, and in public asylums, together with the fruits of observation gathered from the visitation of most of the principal asylums of france, germany, and italy. in conclusion, he hopes that this small volume may in some measure contribute towards the amelioration of the condition of the insane, who have such especial claims on public sympathy and aid. j. t. a. kensington, july 1859. contents. preliminary observations. importance of an inquiry relative to the number of the insane, and the legal provision for them, 1. chap. i.--of the number of the insane. official returns imperfect, 3.--divergence of returns of lunacy commissioners and of poor-law board, 4.--unreported 'private' lunatics, 5.--criminal lunatics in prisons, 6.--inadequate estimate of the number of the insane, 7.--illustration of the difficulty of discovering the true statistics of lunacy, 7.--number of pauper lunatics in workhouses, 9.--paupers not enumerated in official returns, 9.--estimate of the total number of the insane on 1st of january 1859, 10.--causes of apparent increase, 10. chap. ii.--on the increase of insanity. materials for calculation unsatisfactory, 11.--rate of accumulation of the insane in asylums, 12.--estimate of increase made by the commissioners, 12.--table of number of lunatic paupers in workhouses, 13.--calculation of their rate of increase, 14.--increase of pauper lunatics not in workhouses or asylums, 14.--total increase and accumulation of lunatics, 15.--positive increase of insanity by new cases, 15.--table of admissions in four years, 16.--total number of new cases added yearly, 17.--expenditure on account of the pauper insane, 18.--proportion of the insane to the population, 18.--cause of accumulation of the insane, 19.--suggestions for obtaining improved statistics of pauper lunatics, 19. chap. iii.--state of the present provision for the insane in asylums.--its inadequacy. commissioners' calculation of asylum accommodation wanted, 20.--their conclusion that the present provision is inadequate, 22.--on the accuracy of the commissioners' conclusions, 22.--pauper lunatics accommodated in workhouses, and boarded out, 23.--their unsatisfactory condition, 23.--colony of insane at gheel, in belgium, 24.--character of lunatics in workhouses, 25.--unfit cases of insanity in workhouses, 25.--commissioners' estimate that one-half of lunatic inmates of workhouses are improperly detained, 26.--estimate of asylum accommodation required, 26. chap. iv.--on the curability of insanity. insanity a very curable disorder, 27.--experience of american physicians, 27.--exceptional circumstances in american asylums, 28.--experience of st. luke's hospital, london, 28.--experience of the derby county asylum, 30.--advantages of early treatment, 30. chap. v.--on the causes diminishing the curability of insanity, and involving the multiplication of chronic a. _causes external to asylums._ § _detention of patients in their own homes._ absence of all curative influences at home, 32.--causes of delay in submitting patients to treatment, 33.--impediments to transmission to county asylums, 34.--evils of pauper test in public asylums, 34.--characters of continental asylums, 35.--practice followed in america, 36.--scheme of assessment of means of those applying for admission to public asylums, 36.--failure of the pauper test to protect the rate-payers, 37.--its demoralizing and degrading effects, 38.--suggestion as to conditions and mode of admission into county asylums, 38.--act in force to recover the costs of maintenance objectionable and inefficient, 39. § _detention of patients in workhouses._ detention practised on economical considerations, 40.--examination of the value of such considerations, 41.--estimated cost in asylums and in workhouses includes different items in the two, 41.--illustration from the devon asylum report, 42.--children constitute above two-thirds of workhouse inmates, 42.--material effect of this on the cost of maintenance, 42.--inmates of asylums almost all adult, 42.--fluctuations among inmates of workhouses greater than in asylums, 43.--mode of estimating the rate per head of cost in workhouses, 43.--population of workhouses, sane and insane mixed, 44;--that of asylums of insane especially, 44.--those insane who involve increased cost rejected from workhouses, 44.--remarks on this point by dr. bucknill, 44.--economy of workhouses for the insane doubtful, 45.--cost of asylums contrasted with that of workhouses, 46.--system of asylum structure hitherto adopted unnecessarily expensive, 47.--workhouses and asylums not fairly comparable as to cost, 47.--plan to diminish cost of asylums one-half, 48.--chronic lunatics can be provided with asylum accommodation at a rate not exceeding that for workhouses, 48.--internal cost of asylums and workhouses compared, 49.--mistaken policy of constructing lunatic wards, 50.--unfitness of workhouses for insane patients, 51, 75.--evils attending presence of lunatics in workhouses, 52.--american experience in the matter, 52.--workhouses unfit by structure and organization, 52, 75.--workhouse detention especially prejudicial to recent cases, 53, 81.--deficiency of medical care and of nursing in workhouses, 54, 78.--the dietary of workhouses insufficient for lunatics, 54, 77.--injurious effects of workhouse wards upon lunatics, 56, 77.--lunacy commissioners' remarks thereon, 56.--dr. bucknill's remarks on the same subject, 57.--characters of the lunatic inmates of workhouses, 58.--the majority of them imbecile and idiotic, 58.--proportion especially claiming asylum care, 59.--epileptics and paralytics unfit inmates of workhouses, 59.--old demented cases badly provided for in workhouses, 59.--imbecile patients are, as a rule, unfit inmates, 60.--idiots improperly detained in workhouses, 61.--none but a few imbeciles permissible in workhouses, 61.--on the class of supposed 'harmless' lunatics, 61.--remarks by dr. bucknill on this class, 62.--experience of the surrey magistrates on transferring 'harmless' patients to workhouses, 63.--degradation of the patients' condition in workhouses, 64.--legality of workhouse detention examined, 65.--remarks on this subject by the lunacy commissioners, 66.--clauses of the lunacy asylums act bearing on the subject, 66.--defects of the law in protecting the pauper insane, 68.--remarks of the lunacy commissioners on the anomalies of the law, 68.--objections to the powers conferred upon parochial officers, 68.--the law obscure, and open to evasion, 69.--duties of the parish medical officers ill-defined, 69.--proposal of a district medical officer, 70.--contravention of the law by boards of guardians, 71, 81.--the further construction of lunatic wards should be stopped, 72.--necessity for the supervision of the lunacy commissioners over workhouses, 72.--several amendments of the lunacy laws suggested, 73.--proposed regulations for supervision of workhouses containing lunatics, 73, 82.--lunatics in workhouses should be under certificates, 73.--proposal to increase powers of lunacy commissioners over workhouses, 74.--on the supplement to the 'twelfth report' (1859) 'of the commissioners in lunacy,' on workhouses, 74.--abstract of its contents:--unfitness of workhouses for lunatics, 75.--workhouses in large towns most objectionable, 76.--lunatic wards more objectionable than the intermixture of the insane with the other inmates, 76.--miserable state of the insane in lunatic wards, 76, 79.--no efficient visitation of workhouse lunatics, 77.--insufficiency of the dietary for insane inmates, 77.--medical treatment and nursing most defective, 78.--fearful abuse of mechanical restraint in workhouses, 78.--wretched neglect and want in the internal arrangements for lunatics in workhouses, 79.--abuse of seclusion in workhouses, 80.--varieties of mechanical restraint employed, 80.--absence of all means for exercise and occupation, 80.--lunatics in workhouses committed to gaol, 80.--neglect and contravention of the law by parish officers, 81.--amendments in the law suggested by the lunacy commissioners, 81.--proposal to erect asylums for chronic cases, 82, 126.--visiting justices of asylums to supervise workhouse lunatic inmates, 73, 82. § _pauper lunatics living with relatives or strangers._ number of such lunatics, 83.--neglect of their condition, 83.--question of insanity should be left to the district medical officer, 84, 175.--this officer should visit and report on their condition, 85, 87.--indications of the unsatisfactory state of this class of pauper lunatics, 85.--evidence from dr. hitchman's reports, 85.--wretched state of 'single' pauper patients in scotland, 87.--neglect of poor-law medical officers towards such patients, 87.--objections to boarding pauper lunatics with strangers, 88.--district medical officer to select their residence, 89, 146.--advantage of keeping them in lodgings near asylums, 89, 146.--distribution of lunatics in cottage homes, 90, 145.--notice of the colony of insane at gheel, 90, 145. § _unfit cases sent to asylums.--improper treatment prior to admission._ recklessness and cruelty in transmitting patients, 91.--non-lunatic cases sent to asylums, 91.--cases of very aged persons sent, 92.--previous horrible neglect of patients, and their moribund state on admission, 93.--extracts from reports of asylum superintendents illustrative of the facts, 91-96.--transfer of lunatics to asylums must be committed to some competent and independent officer, 97.--want of instruction for medical men in insanity, 97;--errors committed owing to the want of it, 98.--neglect of psychological medicine in medical education, 98.--law regulating transfer of weak cases to asylums, 99.--an amendment of the law requisite, 99. chap. vi.--causes operating within asylums to diminish the curability of insanity, and involving a multiplication of chronic lunatics. § _magisterial interference_ and § _excessive size of asylums_. defective medical staff in large asylums, 102.--efficient treatment impossible, 102, 121.--degeneration of management into routine, 103.--exclusive estimation of so-called 'moral treatment,' 103.--a very large asylum especially prejudicial to recent cases, 104.--delegation of medical duties to attendants, 105.--evils of absence of medical supervision over individual patients, 105.--evils of large asylums upon character of attendants, 106.--routine character of medical visits, 107, 143.--necessity of medical supervision being complete, 107, 115, 121.--distinction of asylum attendants into two classes--attendants proper, or nurses, and cleaners, 108.--objections advanced by the lunacy commissioners to large lunatic asylums, 109.--the erection of large asylums supposed to be economical, 110.--the supposition fallacious, 110.--commissioners' remarks on these topics, 111.--rate of maintenance higher in the largest asylums, 112.--inadequate remuneration of medical superintendents, 113.--lord shaftesbury's advocacy of improved salaries, 113. § _limit to be fixed to the size of asylums._ proper number to be accommodated in an asylum, 114, 137, _et seq._--estimate of american physicians, 115.--estimate of french and german physicians, 116.--peculiar organization of german asylums, 117, 141. § _increase of the medical staff of asylums._ opinions of foreign physicians on the subject, 118.--estimate of the medical staff requisite, 118.--erroneous views prevalent in some asylums, 119.--illustration furnished by the middlesex asylums, 119.--jacobi's views of asylum organization, 121.--advantages of unity in the organization of asylums, 122.--appointment of a chief physician, paramount in authority, 122.--circumstances affecting the selection of asylum superintendents, 123. chap. vii.--on the future provision for the insane. rapid extension in the demand for accommodation, 125.--illustrated by reference to the middlesex asylums, 125. § _separate asylums for the more recent and for chronic cases._ objections to such separate establishments, 126.--examination of the value of these objections, 127.--cases to be transferred from one institution to the other, how determined, 128.--mixture of recent with chronic cases undesirable, 128, 130.--examination of the present relative position of acute and chronic cases, 129.--separate treatment of recent cases desirable, 131.--influence of distance on the utility of an asylum as a place of treatment, 131.--borough asylums, 131.--many chronic cases removable from asylums, 132.--less expensive buildings needed for chronic cases, 132.--views of the lunacy commissioners on these points, 132.--evidence of lord shaftesbury, 134.--french system of dividing asylums into 'quarters,' 135.--permissive power of lunacy act to build distinct asylums for chronic cases, 135.--on the powers of the home secretary to control asylum construction, 136.--amendment of present act proposed, 136.--on mixed asylums, for recent and chronic cases together, 137.--conditions under which distinct institutions are desirable, 138.--advantages of an hospital for recent cases, 138.--number of inmates proper in such an hospital, 139.--regulations required in it, 139.--organization of asylums for chronic cases, 140.--union of counties for the purpose of constructing joint asylums, 140. § _construction of distinct sections to asylums._ german system of 'relative connexion' of asylums for recent and chronic cases, 141.--proposition of lunacy commissioners to place industrial classes of patients in distinct wards, 142.--advantages of separate sections, 143.--objections to a purely 'industrial classification' of patients, 144. § _distribution of the chronic insane in cottage homes._ subdivision of asylums for chronic cases, 145.--illustration of cottage provision for the insane at gheel, 145.--the system at gheel impracticable as a whole, 146.--the 'cottage system' deserving of trial under proper restrictions, 146.--suggestions as to the arrangements required, 146.--'cottage system' supplementary to asylums, 147.--economy of 'cottage system,' 147. § _separate provision for epileptics and idiots._ epileptics need separate provision, 148.--idiots not fit inmates of lunatic asylums, 148.--idiots require special asylum provision, 149.--removal of idiots from workhouses, 150. chap. viii.--registration of lunatics. necessity of registering the insane, 150.--large number of insane at present unprotected, 151.--legal advantages of registration, 151.--desirability of correct statistics of insanity, 152.--lord shaftesbury's evidence on this point, 152.--registration as a means of discovering the existence and condition of lunatics, 152.--registration would promote early treatment, 153.--should be accompanied by visitation, 153.--enactment necessary to regulate the sending of lunatics abroad, 153.--practice pursued in sardinia, 154.--suggestions offered, 155.--all patients removed uncured from asylums ought to have the place of their removal reported, 155.--objections raised to registration, 156.--their validity examined, 156.--principle of a compulsory registration and visitation of all lunatics recognized in belgium, 158.--english enactments respecting 'single' patients, 159.--their failure, 159.--lunatics secluded under the name of 'nervous' patients, 160.--lord shaftesbury's observations on defects in the lunacy laws respecting 'single' cases, 161.--clauses to act, proposed by his lordship, to deal with 'nervous' patients, 161.--clauses open to some objections, 162.--lord shaftesbury's proposal to report every 'nervous' patient, 163.--compulsory powers of lunacy act defective, 164.--suggestions made, 164.--proposition to report all lunatics to a district medical officer, who should visit, 165.--additional certificate granted by this officer, 165.--lunatics well protected, 165.--modification of present form of certificates of insanity, 166.--objections to two forms of certificates, 166.--determination of the nature of certificate to be given, 167.--clause in scotch asylums act respecting 'single' cases, 167.--need of mitigated certificates and of intermediate asylums for certain cases of mental disturbance, 168. chap. ix.--appointment of district medical officers. district physicians appointed in italy and germany, 169.--recognition of principle of appointing district officers in england, in the instance of sanitary medical officers, 169.--district medical officers need to be independent, 170.--extent of districts, 170.--such officers to register and visit reported cases of lunacy, 170.--their reports of cases valuable, 171.--idiots also should be registered, 171.--district officer might sign order for admission to an asylum, 171.--better qualified for the duty than magistrates, 171, 175.--illustrations from evidence of lord shaftesbury and mr. gaskell, 172.--suggestions respecting signature of orders, 172.--objections to clergymen signing orders, 173.--magistrate's order not required for private patients, 174.--remarks on proposition of commissioners to leave selection of cases in workhouses for asylum treatment to the union medical officer, 175.--district officer best qualified for this duty, 175.--additional protection afforded to lunatics by the appointment of district medical officers, 175.--district officer to inspect lunatics in workhouses, 176.--regulations for his guidance, 176.--lunatics in workhouses should be under certificate, 176.--medical officer best judge of the wants of cases, 177.--no removal of lunatics from workhouses without supervision, 177.--committee of visiting magistrates for workhouses, 178.--principles of action of the lunacy commission, 178.--commissioners' recommendation of visiting committees, 179.--workhouses licensed to receive lunatics, 179.--lunatics in workhouses reported by district officer, 180.--visitation of pauper lunatics by parish authorities, 180.--no such visitation of county lunatics, 180.--desirability that county lunatics should have a visitor, 181.--determination of question of lunatics chargeable best left to district officer, 181.--duties of district officer with outdoor pauper lunatics, 182.--need of inspection of singly-placed lunatics, 182.--cost of such inspection, 183.--district officer to visit single cases in lodgings, &c., 183.--to visit private asylums as the physician, joined in inspection with the magistrates, 183.--position and remuneration of district officers, 184.--such officers to be met with, 184.--district officers engaged in medico-legal inquiries, 185.--such a class of officers much needed, 185.--neglect of organization in state medical matters, 186.--a proper organization not necessarily costly, 186. chap. x.--on the lunacy commission. centralization dreaded as an evil, 187.--importance of a central and independent body to the interests of the insane, 188, 192.--want of power in the hands of commissioners, 188.--reasons for a central board, 189.--more frequent visitation of asylums desired, 190.--value of commissioners' opinion on lunatic cases, 190.--inquiries of commissioners respecting the payment for patients, 190.--divided authority of commissioners and magistrates in the case of private asylums, 191.--anomaly of this state of things, 191.--lunacy commissioners too few, 192.--magistrates not effectual as asylum visitors, 193.--jurisdiction of the commission should be the same throughout the country, 193.--licensing powers of magistrates, 194.--duties of office of masters in lunacy, 194.--commissioners should visit all lunatics, whether chancery or not, 195.--proposed division of lunacy commission, 195, 198.--advantages of the division proposed, 196.--reasons for increasing commission, 196.--want of commissioners' supervision of lunatics in gaols, 197.--inadequacy of the present number of commissioners, 197.--appointment of assistant commissioners, 198. chap. xi.--of some principles in the construction of public lunatic asylums. principles of construction in general use, 199.--authorities on asylum construction, 200.--examination of the 'ward system,' 200.--sketch of the conditions of life in a 'ward,' 201.--disadvantages of the arrangements, 201.--the arrangements of a ward vary widely from those of ordinary life, 202.--day and night accommodation should be quite separate, 203.--advantages of this plan, 204.--salubrity, warming, and ventilation promoted, 205.--economy resulting therefrom, 205.--means of communication facilitated, 206.--supervision facilitated, 207.--classification improved, 207.--domestic arrangements facilitated, 208.--management facilitated, 209.--a smaller staff of attendants required, 210.--the cost of construction diminished, 210.--objections to a third story removed, 211. the state oe lunacy, and the legal provision for the insane. preliminary observations. the number of the insane, and the legal provision requisite for their protection, care, and treatment, are subjects which will always recommend themselves to public attention and demand the interest alike of the political economist, the legislator, and the physician. to the first, the great questions of the prevalence of insanity in the community, its increase or decrease, its hereditary character, and others of the same kind, possess importance in relation to the general prosperity and advance of the nation; to the second devolves the duty of devising measures to secure the protection both of the public and the lunatic, with due regard to the personal liberty, and the proper care and treatment, of the latter; to the last belongs the practical application of many of the provisions of the law, besides the exercise of professional skill in the management and treatment of the insane. moreover it will not be denied that, owing to the intimate manner in which he is concerned with all that relates to the lunatic, with all the details of the laws regulating his custody and general treatment, as well as with the institutions in which he is detained, with the features of his malady, and with all his wants, the physician devoted to the care of the insane is well qualified to offer suggestions and recommendations to the legislator. hence the present pages, in which the aim is to examine the present state of lunacy; the advantages to be gained by early treatment; and the adequacy of the existing legal provision for the insane; and to offer some suggestions for improving the condition, and for amending the laws relating to the care and treatment, of this afflicted class of our fellow-creatures. the whole subject of the efficiency of the lunacy laws and of their administration, occupies just now a prominent place in public attention, owing to the rapid multiplication of county asylums and the constantly augmenting charges entailed by them; to the prevalent impression that insanity is rapidly increasing; to recent agitation in our law courts respecting the legal responsibility of the insane and the conditions under which they should be subjected to confinement, and still more to the proposed legislation on the matter during the present session of parliament. it would be a great desideratum could the lunacy laws be consolidated, and an arrest take place in the almost annual additions and amendments made to them by parliament; but, perhaps, this is next to impracticable, owing to the attempts at any systematic, effectual, and satisfactory legislation for the insane, being really of very recent date, and on that account subject to revisions enforced by experience of its defects and errors. however, the present time appears singularly suited to make the attempt at consolidation, so far as practicable, inasmuch as the appointment of a special committee of the house of commons on the lunacy laws, furnishes the means for a complete investigation into existing defects, and for receiving information and suggestions from those practically acquainted with the requirements of the insane, and with the operations of existing enactments. to fulfil the objects taken in hand, and, in the first place, to sketch the present state of lunacy in this country, it will be necessary to investigate the number of the insane, and the annual rate of their increase; then to examine the extent of the present provision for them in asylums and of probable future wants. this done, after a brief essay on the curability of insanity, as a means of judging what may be done to mitigate the evil, we shall review the present provision for lunatics, point out its defects, and suggest various remedial measures, calculated in our opinion to improve the condition of the insane, diminish the evil of the accumulation of chronic cases, and render asylums more serviceable and efficient. in carrying out our design, we shall be found in some measure occupying ground already taken up by the commissioners in lunacy, and by some able essayists in the medical journals. we do not regret this, although it may deprive us somewhat of the merit of originality of conception and elucidation, as it will strengthen our positions and enhance the value of our remarks. fortunately, too, we coincide generally with the opinions from time to time put forth by the lunacy commissioners, to whom so great merit is due for their labours in the interests of the insane, and for the character and position our county asylums enjoy in the estimation of our own people and of foreign nations. to attempt the character of a reformer when the affairs of lunacy and lunatic asylums are in such good hands may be deemed somewhat ambitious; yet as sometimes an ordinary looker-on may catch sight of a matter which has eluded the diligent observer, and, as the views and suggestions advanced are the result of mature and independent thought, aided by experience of considerable length, and very varied, the undertaking may, we trust, be received with favour. at all events, we flatter ourselves that the representation of the state of lunacy in england and wales; the estimate of its increase and of the provision made for it; the evils of workhouses as primary or permanent receptacles for the insane; the ill consequences of large asylums, and some of the legal amendments proposed, are in themselves subjects calculated to enlist the attention of all interested in the general welfare of our lunatic population, and in the administration of the laws and institutions designed whether for its protection or for its care and treatment. chap. i.--of the number of the insane. this inquiry must be preliminary to any consideration of the provision made or to be made for the insane. in carrying it out, we have chiefly to rely upon the annual reports of the commissioners in lunacy along with, so far as pauper lunatics are concerned, those of the poor-law board. however, these reports do not furnish us with complete statistics, and the total number of our insane population can be only approximately ascertained. the lunacy commission is principally occupied with those confined in public asylums and hospitals, and in licensed houses, and publishes only occasional imperfect returns of patients detained in workhouses or singly in private dwellings. on the other hand, the poor-law board charges itself simply with the enumeration of pauper lunatics supported out of poor-rates, whether in asylums or workhouses, or living with friends or elsewhere. hence the returns of neither of these public boards represent the whole case; and hence, too, the chief apparent discrepancies which occur when those returns are compared. to show this, we may copy the tables presented in appendix h of the report of the commissioners in lunacy for 1857, p. 81. "increase of lunatics of all classes during the last five years, according to commissioners' reports 3932 1852 1857 paupers 12,982 16,657 private patients 4,430 4,687 ----- ----- 17,412 21,344 "according to returns published by poor law board during same period 6535 1852 1857 county and borough asylums 9,412 13,488 licensed houses 2,584 1,908 workhouses 5,055 6,800 with friends or elsewhere 4,107 5,497 ----- ----- 21,158 27,693." this very considerable difference of 2603 patients between the two estimates is mainly due--as reference to the summary (at p. 53) proves--to the omission, on the part of the lunacy commissioners, of those resident in workhouses and "with friends, or elsewhere," reckoned in the table of the poor-law board. this explanation, however, is only partial, for, after allowing for it, the two estimates are found to diverge very considerably. thus, on adding the numbers in the categories last named, viz. 5055 + 4107 = 9162, in 1852,--and 6800 + 5497 = 12,297, in 1857 to the total given by the commissioners in each of those years, viz. to 17,412 and 21,344, respectively, we obtain a total of 26,574 in 1852, and one of 33,641 in 1857; a variation of 5416 in the former, and of 5948 in the latter year, from the results given in the table presented by the poor-law board. much of this wide difference is explicable by the board last mentioned not having reckoned the private patients, who amounted in 1852 to 4430, and in 1857 to 4687. still, after all attempts to balance the two accounts, there is a difference unaccounted for, of 986 in 1852, and of 1261 in 1857. no clue is given in the official documents to the cause of this discrepancy, and we are left in doubt which estimate of our lunatic population is the more correct. the excess occurs in the commissioners' returns; for on adding together, in each year in question, the numbers reported by the poor-law board, as detained in county and borough asylums and in licensed houses, we find that the totals respectively are less than the whole number of paupers as calculated by the lunacy commissioners, by the precise difference we have made out, viz. 986 in 1852 and 1261 in 1857. of the two returns before us, we accept that of the lunacy commission, viz. that there were, including those in workhouses, and with friends or elsewhere, 26,574 reported lunatics in 1852, and 33,641 in 1857; and account for this larger total by the fact that the poor-law board returns apply only to unions and omit the lunacy statistics of many single parishes, under local acts, and some rural parishes under 'gilbert's act,'--containing in them together above a million and a half people more than are found in unions. moreover, the poor-law board returns do not include county and borough patients. looking to these facts, the excess of 986 in 1852, and of 1261 in 1857, over and above the totals quoted from the summary of the poor-law board, is not surprising; indeed, taking the average usually allowed of one lunatic in every 700, the number in one million and a half would be above 2000; that is, more than half as many again as 1261; a result, which would indicate the commissioners' total to be within the truth. we have just used the term 'reported lunatics,' for, besides those under certificates and those returned as chargeable to parishes, comprised in the foregoing numbers, there are very many of whom no public board has cognizance. most such are private patients supported by their own means, disposed singly in the residences of private persons, throughout the length and breadth of the country, and, with few exceptions, without the supervision, in reference to their accommodation and treatment, of any public officer. the lunacy commissioners justly deplore this state of things; lament their inability, under existing acts, to remedy it, and confess that not a tithe of such patients is reported to them, according to the intention of the law (16 & 17 vict. cap. 96. sect. xvi.). it would appear that less than 200 such cases are known to them; and it would not be an extravagant or unwarrantable estimate to calculate their whole number at about half that of the inmates of licensed houses, viz. at 2000. this number would comprise those found lunatic by inquisition, not enumerated in the commissioners' summary, although under the inspection of the "medical visitors of lunatics." according to the returns moved for by mr. tite "of the total number of lunatics in respect of whom commissions in lunacy are now in force," there were, on the 27th july, 1858, 602 such lunatics, and 295 of them were, according to the commissioners' tables, detained in asylums or licensed houses, leaving 347 not reckoned upon. in addition to this class of the insane there is an unascertained small number of persons of unsound mind in the horde of vagrant paupers, alluded to occasionally in the lunacy commissioners' reports. the number of criminal lunatics in asylums is noted in the returns, but that of those in jails is not reckoned. although this is comparatively small, owing to the usual custom of transferring prisoners, when insane, to asylums, yet, at any one period, a proportion sufficient to figure in a calculation of the whole insane population of the country will always be found. nay more, besides such scattered instances in county prisons, there is a very appreciable number in the government jails and reformatories, as appears from the returns presented to parliament (reports of the directors of convict prisons, 1858.) the prisons included in these reports are:--pentonville, millbank, portland, portsmouth, dartmoor, parkhurst, chatham, brixton, fulham refuge, and lewes. in the course of 1857, 216 persons of unsound mind were confined, some for a longer or shorter period, others for the whole of the year, in one or other of those prisons. making allowance for those of the 216 who by removal from one prison to another (a transfer apparently of common occurrence, the rationale of which we should find it difficult to explain), might be reckoned twice, it may be safely stated that at least 150 were in the prison-infirmaries in question the whole year. in fact, the infirmary of dartmoor prison has wards specially appropriated to insane patients, and actually constitutes a criminal asylum of no insignificant magnitude. for instance, the report tells us that on the 1st of january, 1857, there remained in that prison 102 cases; that 41 were received during the year; 37 discharged (where, or how, we are not told, except of 3, who were sent to bethlem hospital); and 106 remained on the 1st of january 1858. it is also worth noting that in this dartmoor prison infirmary, 38 epileptics remained on january 1st, 1857; 22 were admitted, 13 discharged, and 47 remained on january 1st, 1858. the total of epileptics coming under notice in the infirmaries of the several prisons in question, in the course of 1857, amounted to 135. the remarks on some of these cases of epilepsy by the medical officers, are sufficient to show that the convulsive malady has seriously affected the mental health, and that they might rightly be placed in the category of the insane. however, having no wish to enhance the proportion of the subjects for lunatic asylums, we will deal only with those enumerated as mentally disordered. these amounted, according to the preceding calculations, in the government prisons, to 150, and it would seem no exaggerated estimate to assert that an equal number may be found in the various other prisons and reformatories throughout the country. to put the matter in another form, 300 lunatics are to be found in english prisons at any date that a census may be taken. consequently this sum of 300 must be added in calculating the total of insane persons in this kingdom. to establish still further the proposition with which we set out, that our public statistics of insanity are incomplete, the history of every county asylum might be adduced: for, notwithstanding very considerable pains have been taken, on the proposition to build a new asylum, to ascertain the probable number of claimants, and a wide margin over and above that estimate has been allowed in fixing on the extent of accommodation provided, yet no sooner has the institution got into operation, than its doors have been besieged by unheard-of applicants for admission, and within one-half or one-third of the estimated time, its wards have been filled and an extension rendered imperative. such is a _résumé_ of the general history of english county asylums, attested in the strongest manner by that of the middlesex, the lancashire, and the montgomery asylums; and confirmatory of the fact of the augmentation of insanity in the country at a rate exceeding, more or less, that collected from county returns and public statistics. it is, moreover, to be observed, that the official statistics represent the total of lunatics existing on one particular day, usually the first of january, in each year, and take no account of those many who are admitted and discharged within the year, and who rightly should be reckoned in an estimate of the total number of the insane belonging to that period. the average daily number resident in asylums would be a more correct representation of their insane population than the total taken on any one day, although it would fail to show the lunacy of the year. lastly, to illustrate the point discussed, to indicate how imperfect our present estimate of the prevalence of insanity most probably is, and to show the difficulties and defects of any ordinary census, we may appeal to the experience of the special commission charged by the legislature of massachusetts to examine the statistics of lunacy and the condition of asylums in that state, as recorded in their report, published in 1855. "in 1848" (they write, p. 18), "a committee of the legislature, appointed to 'consider the whole subject connected with insanity within the commonwealth,' ascertained and reported the number of insane in this state to be 1512, of whom 291 were able to furnish the means of their own support, and 1156 were unable to do so, and the pecuniary condition of 65 was not ascertained. "in making that survey in 1848, the commissioners addressed their letters of inquiry 'to the municipal authorities of every city and town in the commonwealth.' "these public officers had direct means of knowing the number and condition of the pauper insane, and probably this part of the report was complete; but they had no other facilities of knowing the condition of those lunatics who were in private families, and supported by their own property or by their friends, than other men not in office, and could only speak of those who were within their circle of personal acquaintance. consequently the report included only a part of the independent insane who were then actually in, or belonged to, the state." "in 1850 (p. 11), the marshals, the agents of the national government who were appointed to take the census, visited every family; and, among other items of information, they asked for the insane and idiots in the household. "by this personal and official inquiry, made of some responsible member of every family, the marshals obtained the account of only 1680 insane persons and 791 idiots, which is but little more than two-thirds of the number ascertained by this commission. "making all due allowance for the increase of population, and consequently of the insane and idiots, these figures undoubtedly show far less than the real amount of lunacy and idiotcy at that time, and render it extremely probable that many concealed the facts that the law required them to state to the marshals." thus the marshals discovered the number of insane to be in 1850 nearly double that returned in 1848, and from their apparently searching inquiry, it might have been presumed that they had made a near approximation to the truth in the figures they published. however, the most pains-taking and varied investigations of the special commissioners in 1854, prove the marshals to have much underrated the number, for the result arrived at was, that in the autumn of the year just named, there were 3719 lunatics, of whom 1087 were idiots, in the state of massachusetts. the partial explanation of the divergence in numbers, viz.:--"that it is probable that many of the families refused or neglected to report to the marshals the insane and idiots who were in their households,"--is of itself an indication of one of the impediments to a correct enumeration of the insane members of a community, even when such is attempted under favourable circumstances. it is one likewise which, however operative in the united states, where the public asylums are open to, and resorted to by, all classes of the community, must be still more so in this country, where family pride endeavours in every way to ignore and keep secret the mental affliction of a member, as though it were a plague spot. besides this, in no english census yet taken, has the enumeration of the insane constituted a special subject of inquiry. this illustration from american experience, coupled with the considerations previously advanced, suffice to demonstrate that the published statistics of insanity in england and wales are incomplete and erroneous, and that the machinery hitherto employed for collecting them has been imperfect. the corollary to this conclusion is, that the number of lunatics mentioned in the public official papers is much below the real one. however, the facts and figures in hand justify the attempt to fix a number which may be taken to represent _approximatively_ the total insane population of this kingdom. in their last report (1858), the english commissioners in lunacy state that, on january 1st, 1858, there were confined in asylums, hospitals, and licensed houses, 17,572 pauper, and 4738 private patients, exhibiting an increase of 915 pauper and of 51 private cases upon the returns of the year preceding. pauper lunatics in workhouses are stated (10th annual report of the poor law board, 1858) to have numbered 6947, and those receiving out-door relief 12,756; making a total of 20,703. by the kindness of mr. purdy, the head of the statistical department of the poor-law office, we are enabled to explain that it is the custom of the office to reckon pauper lunatics in asylums and licensed houses among those receiving out-door relief; consequently the sum of 12,756 comprises both those patients provided for as just specified, and others boarded with their friends or elsewhere. we, however, learn further, from the same excellent authority, that, owing to the imperfection of the periodical returns, only a comparatively small portion of the pauper insane confined in asylums and licensed houses is included in that total. indeed, the fact of its being very much smaller than that of the lunatics in asylums and licensed houses, clearly enough shows that the latter are not reckoned in it except partially. considering that the poor law board obtain no record of the pauper insanity in one million and a half of the population of england and wales, nor of the number of insane belonging to counties and boroughs,--for this reason, that their cost of maintenance is not directly defrayed out of the poor-rates, there must necessarily be a much greater number in workhouses at large than the 6947 mentioned, and no inconsiderable proportion of poor lunatics dispersed abroad in the country not enumerated in the 5500 counted as existing in january 1st, 1857. on these grounds, we assume 8000 as an approximative figure to represent the total of insane poor not under confinement in asylums and workhouses, believing fully that it will be found, on the publication of the returns for this year (1859), within the mark. private patients not in asylums, or licensed houses, often confined without certificates, and the majority unknown to the lunacy commissioners, we have put down, at a moderate estimate, at 2000. the present state of the law does not enable the commissioners or others to discover these, often, we fear, neglected patients: and, on the other hand, the operation of the laws regulating asylums, and the feeling evoked by certain public trials of individuals confined in licensed houses, have, together, combined to render them more numerous, by inducing friends to keep them at home, to send them abroad to continental institutions, or to place them under the care of private persons or attendants in lodgings. this completes our enumeration; and the figures stand thus, on the 1st of january, 1858:- _pauper._ _private._ _total._ in asylums and licensed houses 17,572 4,738 22,310 in workhouses 6,947 ... 6,947 with friends, or elsewhere 8,000 2,000 10,000 in prisons, vagrants, &c. 300 ... 300 ------ ------ ------ 32,819 6,738 39,557 to extend the estimate to the commencement of the present year (1859), we require to add the gross increase of lunatics during 1858 to the total just arrived at: 39,557. what this increase may be cannot be decisively stated; but to anticipate the estimate of it, which we shall presently arrive at, viz. 1600 per annum, the result is, that _on the 1st of january_ 1859 there were in england and wales, in round numbers, 41,000 persons of unsound mind, or, to employ the legal phraseology, lunatics and idiots. it perhaps should be explained, and more particularly with reference to those detained in workhouses or supported by their parishes at their own houses, that besides idiots, or those congenitally deficient, a very large proportion of them is composed of weak and imbecile folk, who would, in olden times, have been considered and called "fools," and not lunatics, and been let mix with their fellow-men, serve as their sport or their dupes, and exhibit their hatred and revenge by malicious mischief and fiendish cruelty. but, thanks to modern civilization and benevolence, these poor creatures are rightly looked upon as proper objects for the supervision, tending and kindness of those whom providence has favoured with a higher degree of intelligence. this act of philanthropy, effected at a great cost, elevates at the same time, very materially, the ratio of insane persons to the population, and thereby gives cause of alarm at the prevalence of mental disorder, and makes our sanitary statistics contrast unfavourably with those of foreign lands, where the same class of the sick poor has not been so diligently sought out and brought together with a view to their moral and material well-being. chap. ii.--on the increase of insanity. the only data at hand to calculate the gross increase of the insane in this country, year by year, or over a series of years, are those contained in the official reports of the commissioners in lunacy and of the poor-law board. these, as we have just shown in the preceding chapter, are incomplete as records of the state of lunacy, since they take no notice of numerous patients not in recognized asylums. moreover, the annual summary of the returns made by the commissioners of insane patients confined in asylums and licensed houses, represents a compound quantity, made up of the increment by accumulation in past years, and of the fresh cases admitted in any particular year, and remaining at its close. the same is true of the figures supplied by the poor-law board. now, though these summaries are useful to show the rate of accumulation of the insane in the various receptacles for them, annually or over any fixed period, they do not tell us how many persons are attacked by madness in any year, or other space of time; or, in other words, they do not inform us whether there is an actual increase, or a decrease in the annual number of persons becoming insane. this question of the simple increase or decrease of insanity cannot be correctly answered. it is elucidated in some measure, so far as licensed institutions for the insane are concerned, by the tables of admission for different years furnished by the reports of the lunacy commissioners; and it may be assumed to be partially answered by the returns of the number of lunatics in workhouses published by the poor-law board, after an allowance made for the diminution caused by deaths which have taken place in the twelvemonth; but no means whatever exist of discovering the number of persons annually attacked with mental disorder, who do not fall under the cognizance of the public boards. with the materials in hand, let us in the first place examine the results which follow from a comparison of the lunacy statistics of the commissioners, instituted at intervals of more or fewer years. by this course we shall attain, not indeed an estimate of the progressive increase of our insane population, but a valuable comparative return of the number of those enjoying the advantages of asylum care and management in different years. the summary presented in each annual report shows that there were in _males._ _females._ _total._ 1843--private patients 1,989 1,801 = 3,790 } pauper patients 3,532 3,950 = 7,482 } = 11,272 1853--private patients 2,331 2,099 = 4,430 } pauper patients 5,916 7,066 = 12,982 } = 17,412 1858--private patients 2,508 2,230 = 4,738 } pauper patients 7,985 9,587 = 17,572 } = 22,310 from these tables it therefore appears that the accumulation of insane persons in asylums in the ten years between 1843 and 1853, equalled 6140; and in the five years between 1853 and 1858, 4898; or progressed at the rate of 614 per annum in the ten years, and of 979·6 (or in round numbers 980) per annum in the five years under review, or upwards of 50 per cent. faster in the latter space of time. in their twelfth report (1858) the commissioners in lunacy attempt to calculate the probable demands for asylum accommodation on the 1st of january 1860, from the increased number of lunatics in the space of one year, from january 1st, 1857, to january 1st, 1858, amounting to 915. but as we have pointed out in a paper in the "journal of mental science" (vol. v. 1859, p. 249), the conclusion drawn from such data must be fallacious. for instance, a calculation on the result of one year's statistics is evidently worth little. there are many causes at work in asylums which materially affect the relative number of admissions and discharges, and consequently produce an inequality in the rate of increase viewed year by year. moreover, where the same plan of calculation has been adopted in determining what asylum accommodation was necessary, experience has soon exhibited the fallacy, and both the admissions and the demands for admission have far exceeded the total reckoned upon. to arrive at a nearer approximation to the truth, the augmentation in the number of lunatics ought to be noted for a space of several years; and to make the deduction more satisfactory, the increase of the general population, the conditions of the period affecting the material prosperity of the people, and its political aspects; and, lastly, the mere circumstance of the opening of new asylums,--a circumstance always followed by an unexpected influx of patients, need be taken into account. in the preceding considerations only the returns of lunatics in asylums, hospitals, and licensed houses are discussed; but, as we have seen, there is an almost equally large number detained in workhouses, or boarded with their relatives, or other persons, at the expense of their parishes, whose increase or decrease is a matter of kindred importance. on reviewing the returns of their numbers at periods when they have been taken cognizance of by the lunacy commission, we find that there were in workhouses and elsewhere, together, in 1843 9,339 _in workhouses._ _with friends and elsewhere._ 1847 4,490 3,465 = 7,955 1857 6,800 5,497 = 12,297 exhibiting an increase of 4342 in the ten years between 1847 and 1857, and a decrease in the four between 1843 and 1847 of 1384, owing, doubtless, to the opening of new asylums during that space of time. the returns of the two classes of pauper lunatics together being both so infrequently made, and, as before shown (p. 8), open to criticism on account of their incompleteness, we shall attempt to arrive at a more correct estimate of increase than that just made. in the first place, with respect to union workhouses, the summary of indoor paupers, published by the poor law commission (10th report, p. 196), affords the necessary data. according to this tabular statement, we find, that, there were on the 1st of january in each of the ensuing years the following numbers of pauper lunatics:- 1847 4,490 1849 4,842 1850 4,659 1851 5,029 1852 4,744 1853 4,954 1854 5,459 1855 5,960 1856 6,480 1857 6,488 1858 6,947 these columns show, that since 1847 the minimum number of insane, at a corresponding date in each year, occurred in 1850. once indeed since, but at a different period of the year, viz. on july 1st, 1851, the number fell to 4574, or 75 less than at the date before named. two or three years excepted, the increment has been progressive; at one time, indeed, much more rapidly so than at another. the fluctuations observable are, in the first place, due to the opening of new, or the repletion of existing, asylum accommodation; and in a lesser degree, to the rise or fall of pauperism in the community at large, or to an increased mortality at times, as, for example, in 1849, when cholera prevailed--an event which in part, at least, explains the smaller figure of insane inmates in 1850. but whatever the fluctuations observable year by year may be, there is a most distinct increase in the space of any five or ten years selected from the list, suggestive of the unwelcome fact that, notwithstanding the very large augmentation of asylum accommodation and the reduction of numbers by death, the rate of accumulation has proceeded in a ratio exceeding both those causes of decrease of workhouse inmates combined. thus, to take the decennial period between 1847 and 1857, we discover an increase of just 2000, or an average annual one of 200; and, what is remarkable, as large a total increase, within a few units, is met with in the quinquennial period between 1853 and 1858, and consequently the yearly average on the decennial period is doubled; viz. 400 instead of 200. this doubling of the average in the last five years would be a more serious fact, were it not that in 1853 the number of workhouse inmates had been reduced upon 1851, and had only slightly advanced above that of 1849. rejecting the maximum rate of accumulation, we will calculate the average of the last three years cited, from 1855 to 1858, a period during which there has been no notable cause of fluctuation, and no such increase of population as materially to affect the result, and for these reasons better suited to the purpose. in this space of time the increment equalled 987, or an average of 329 per annum; which may fairly be considered to represent the rate of accumulation of lunatics in union workhouses at the present time. the absence of returns of lunatics in the workhouses of parishes under local acts, is an obstacle to a precise computation of them; however, on the assumption that the proportion of lunatics in those workhouses to the population (1,500,000) of the parishes they belong to, is equal to that of those in union workhouses to the estimated population (18,075,000) of the unions, and that the average increase is proportionate in the two cases, this increase should equal 1/12th of 329, or somewhat more than 27, per annum; making the total average rate of accumulation in workhouses at large 356 annually. unfortunately, no separate record is regularly kept of those poor insane persons who are boarded with friends or others, and their number has been only twice published, viz. in 1847 and 1857, when, as seen in a preceding page, it was, respectively, 3465 and 5497. these two sums exhibit an increase of 2032 to have accrued in the ten years included between those dates, or an average one of 203 per annum. we have, above, calculated the average annual increase on those in union workhouses and those with friends, at 434 annually; and consequently that of the latter being 203, the yearly increase of the former stands, according to the returns employed, at 231. however, we have proved that the average increase, in union workhouses, has reached in the last three years the amount of 329, and in workhouses at large 356, which, added to 203, produces 559, or in round numbers, 560, as the sum-total of accumulation of pauper lunatics not in asylums, hospitals, or licensed houses. adding the annual rate of increase of the insane in asylums, viz. 980, to that among paupers, unprovided with asylum accommodation, 560, we obtain the total accumulation per annum of 1540 lunatics reported to the public boards. to this sum there should rightly be added the accumulative increase among insane persons not known to those boards, and which, in the absence of any means to ascertain its amount, may be not extravagantly conceived to raise the total to 1600. we come now to the second part of our present task, viz. to discover the comparative number of new cases in several past years, so as to obtain an answer to the question,--has there been an increase of the annual number of persons attacked with lunacy during that period? for previous figures leave no doubt there is an augmented ratio of insane persons in the population of the country. at the outset of this inquiry an insuperable difficulty to a correct registration of the number arises from the circumstance that, during any term of years we may select, the accommodation for the insane has never, even for one year, been fixed, but has been progressively increased by the erection of new, and the enlargement of old asylums. this occurrence, necessarily, very materially affects the returns made by the commissioners of the number of admissions into asylums and licensed houses. even if the comparison of the annual admissions into any one county asylum only, were of value to our purpose, the same difficulty would ensue by reason of the enlargement of the institution from time to time, and of the circumstance that, as it progressively filled with chronic cases, the number of admissions will have grown smaller. likewise, the farther that the inquiry is extended back, the more considerable will this difficulty in the desired computation be. in short, it may be stated generally, that the proportion of admissions will vary almost directly according to the accommodation afforded by asylums, and the inducements offered to obtain it. on the other hand, the consequences of the variations in asylum accommodation upon the total of admissions are to a certain extent compensated for by the fluctuations they produce upon the number of lunatics not provided for in asylums; for this reason, that where a county asylum opens for the reception of patients, the majority of these are withdrawn from licensed houses and workhouses, and thereby a reduction is effected in the number of inmates of those establishments. after the above considerations, it is clear that an estimate of the number of insane persons in any year, as gathered from the statistics of those brought under treatment in asylums or elsewhere, can be only an approach to the truth. still it is worth while to see what results follow from an examination of the returns of admissions, as collected by the commissioners in lunacy. it would be of no service to extend the inquiry far backward in time, on account of the rapidity with which asylum accommodation has been enlarged; we will therefore compare the admissions over the space of four years, viz. 1854, 1855, 1856, and 1857, during which the changes in asylums have been less considerable. _table of admissions._ 1854--county and borough asylums 4,620 hospitals 868 licensed houses 2,161 ---- total 7,649 ---- 1855--county and borough asylums 4,342 hospitals 828 licensed houses 2,196 ---- total 7,366 ---- 1856--county and borough asylums 4,538 hospitals 777 licensed houses 2,091 ---- total 7,406 ---- 1857--county and borough asylums 4,781 hospitals 790 licensed houses 2,324 ---- total 7,895 ----there is a remarkable degree of uniformity in the sum of admissions in each of these four years; and if each several sum could be taken to represent the accession of new cases of insanity in the course of the year, there would appear no actual progressive increase of the disease in the community during the four years considered. the average of the admissions for that period is 7579; those therefore of 1854 and 1857 are in excess, and those of 1855 and 1856 are within it. the widest difference is observed in 1857, when a sudden rise takes place, which, by the way, is not explicable by the greater provision of asylum accommodation in that year than in the three preceding. yet this increase is not so striking when viewed in relation to the totals of other years; for it exceeds the average only by 316, a sum little greater than that expressing the decrease of 1855 upon the total of 1854. it is difficult to decide what value should be assigned to these results, deducible from a comparison of the yearly admissions, in determining the question of the increase of insanity, viewed simply as that of the comparative number attacked year by year,--it would, however, seem a not unreasonable deduction from them, that the proportion of persons attacked by mental disorder advances annually at a rate little above what the progressive increase of population is sufficient to explain. if this be so, the increase by accumulation of chronic and incurable cases becomes so much the more remarkable, and an investigation of the circumstances promoting, and of those tending to lessen, that accumulation, so much the more important. there are, as heretofore remarked, very many insane persons who are not sent to asylums or private houses, at least to those in this country, and whose relative number yearly it is impossible, in the absence of all specific information, to compute. although the agitation of the public mind respecting private asylums, and the facility and economy of removing insane persons abroad, may have latterly multiplied the number of such unregistered patients, yet there is no reason to assume that their yearly positive increase is other than very small. the pauper lunatics living in workhouses have as yet been omitted from the present inquiry. their yearly number is affected not only by the introduction of fresh cases, but also by removals to asylums and by deaths; or, in other words, it is a compound quantity of new inmates received and of the accumulation of old. however, the returns above quoted (p. 13) show that between 1855 and 1858 there was an increase of almost exactly 1000, or, as before calculated, an average of 329 annually. the poor law board report unfortunately gives no returns of the annual admissions; hence we do not possess the means of discovering what proportion of the growing increase observed is due year by year to the accession of fresh inmates. the advancing growth in numbers of those pauper insane receiving out-door relief is not clearly discoverable: from the few data in possession, as before quoted (p. 14), about 200 are annually added. it appears pretty clearly, then, that there are at least 1600 reported lunatics added to the insane population of the country yearly, and of this increase only 60, or 1 in 26·66, are supported out of their own resources in asylums; the remainder, with some few exceptions, falling upon the rates for their entire maintenance. it would therefore be difficult to exaggerate the importance of the question of the provision for the insane poor in this country, both to the political economist and to the legislator. there are certainly more than 1300 persons yearly so affected in mind as to be unfit or unable to take care of themselves, and to obtain their own livelihood, and who, under this distressing infliction of providence, demand the care and charity of their neighbours, and the succour of the state, properly to protect and provide for them. to perform this duty at the least cost, compatible with justice to these afflicted individuals, involves a tax upon the community of which few persons have any adequate conception. supposing, by way of illustration, that the number mentioned required the accommodation of an asylum, the cost of providing it, according to the system hitherto in vogue, would nearly equal that incurred in the establishment and maintenance of the middlesex county asylum at colney hatch, or a sum of £300,000 for land, buildings, and fittings (equal, at 5 per cent. to a yearly rental of £15,000), and an annual charge of £30,000 for maintenance. the example of colney hatch, chosen for illustration, is a very fair one, and the figures used in round numbers are actually within the average expenditure in and for the establishment of county asylums in this country, as may be seen on reference to appendix d. (commissioners' report, 1854), and to the table of asylums in course of erection, printed at p. 2 of their twelfth report (1858). on applying these results to the total number of pauper lunatics in asylums, which, according to the return on the 1st of january 1858, amounted to 15,000, the sum of £4,500,000 (not including interest) will have been expended in providing them accommodation, and an annual charge incurred of £450,000 for their care and maintenance. all this, too, is independent of the cost on account of those maintained in licensed houses, in workhouses, and in lodgings with friends or others, the amount of which we do not possess sufficient information to determine. the commissioners in lunacy, in their elaborate report in 1844, took the population of england and wales at 16,480,082, and reckoned on the existence of 20,893 lunatics on the 1st january of that year, of whom 16,542 were paupers. the latter, they calculated, stood in the proportion of 1 to 1000 in the population, or, more correctly, 1 in 997; and the total lunatics as 1 to 790. on the 1st of january 1857, they found the pauper lunatics to be in the proportion of 1 in 701; whilst pauper and private together equalled 1 in 600, to the estimated population, 19,408,364. adopting the figures arrived at in the preceding discussion, viz. that there are 41,000 insane persons in this country, and assuming the population on the 1st of january, 1859, to have been 19,800,000, the proportion of the insane would be as high as 1 in 483 persons. this much-enlarged ratio of insanity to the population admits of several explanations, without a resort to the belief that the disease is actually and fearfully on the increase. as before said, we regard the accumulation of chronic and incurable lunatics to be the chief element in raising the total number, and this accumulation is favoured by all causes operating against the cure of insanity; by the increased attention to the disease, and by all those conditions improving the value of life of the insane, supplied, at the present day, in accordance with the improved views respecting their wants, and the necessity of placing them under conditions favourable for their health, care and protection. on the operation of these causes, favouring the multiplication of insane persons in the community, we shall, however, not at present further enter, but proceed to inquire how far the existing provision for the insane is adequate to their requirements. before entering on this inquiry, a few words are wanting to convey a suggestion or two respecting the collection of the statistics of pauper lunatics. it is most desirable we should be able to discover, from the official returns of the public boards, with precision, what number of insane persons is wholly or partially chargeable to the poor rates, what to borough, and what to county rates. the returns of the poor-law office ought not to be marred by the omission of the statistics of parishes, which by local or special acts escape the direct jurisdiction of the board. if the central board be denied a direct interference in their parochial administration, it ought to be informed of the number of their chargeable poor, including lunatics. it is equally unsatisfactory, that the pauper registry kept by the poor-law board is not rendered complete by the record of all those chargeable to counties and boroughs, as this could be so readily done by the clerks of county and borough magistrates. an amendment, too, is desirable in the practice of the poor-law office of reckoning together in their tables pauper lunatics in asylums among the recipients of out-door relief with those boarded with their friends or elsewhere, whence it is impossible to gather the proportion of such class. this technicality of considering workhouse inmates as the only recipients of _in-door_ relief, to the exclusion of asylum patients who are in reality receiving it in an equal degree, although in another building than the workhouse, is an official peculiarity we can neither explain nor approve; and it appears to us most desirable that lunatic paupers in asylums should be arranged in a distinct column, and that the same should be done with those living with their friends or others. by the adoption of this plan the questions of the number of the pauper insane, of their increase and decrease, whether in asylums or elsewhere, and of the adequacy of accommodation for them, could be ascertained by a glance at the tables. we would likewise desire to see those paupers belonging to parishes not in union and under local acts, and those chargeable to counties and boroughs, tabulated in a similar manner. a practical suggestion, connected with the statistics of insanity, we owe to mr. purdy, viz. that section 64 of the "lunatic asylums' act, 1853" (16 & 17 vict. cap. 97) should be amended by the insertion of a few words requiring the clerks of unions to make the returns of the number of chargeable lunatics on a specified day, as on the first of january in each year. this practice was formerly enjoined, and probably its omission from the act now in force was accidental. the present enactment requires that the clerks of unions "shall, on the first day of january in every year, or as soon after as may be, make out and sign a true and faithful list of all lunatics chargeable to the union or parish;" and the only alteration required is the addition of two or three words at the end of this paragraph, such as:--'on the first day of january of that year.' the want of a fixed date of this kind, mr. purdy says, imposes great trouble in getting the clerks to make their returns with reference to the same day in the several unions and parishes. chap. iii.--state of the present provision for the insane in asylums.--its inadequacy. in their report for 1857, the commissioners in lunacy have presented us with a memorandum of the present accommodation afforded in county asylums, and of that in course of being supplied, and have attempted further a calculation of the probable requirements on the 1st of january 1860. the former may be accepted as nearly correct, but the latter affords, as before noticed, a rough, and not sufficiently accurate, estimate. their statement is, that on the 1st of january, 1858, 16,231 beds were provided in public asylums; that, by the projected enlargement of existing institutions, 2481 others would be obtained, and, by the completion of eight asylums in course of erection, there would be added 2336 more--a total of 4817, on or before january 1860. of the increase in additional buildings, 1000 beds, or thereabouts, would not be ready at so early a date as that named; and in calculating existing provision, need be deducted from the total of 2,336; consequently the accommodation in county asylums would, according to the commissioners, in this year, 1859, reach 20,000, and in 1860, 21,048. the county asylum accommodation on january 1st, 1858, expressed by the sum of 16,231, exceeded the total of pauper lunatics returned as actually partaking its advantages at that date, viz. 14,931, by the large number of 1300; showing a surplus to that amount, including beds, in infirmary wards. what may be the precise number of the last, or, in other words, of those generally inapplicable to ordinary cases, labouring under no particular bodily infirmity, we cannot tell, but we feel sure that 1000 of them would be available; in fact, the whole number by classification might be rendered so. be this so or not, the commissioners have omitted any reference to this present available accommodation, in calculating what may be necessary in 1860. on the other hand, they have rather over-estimated the future provision in asylums, by adding together that in the beds., herts., and hunts. asylum now in use, viz. 326, with that to be secured in the new one, viz. 504, instead of counting on the difference only, 178, as representing the actual increase obtained,--for the intention is to disuse the old establishment as a county institution. to proceed. the commissioners calculate on an addition of 4817 beds to the number provided in january 1858 (according to our correction, in round numbers, 4500), and proceed to say, that "if to this estimate ... we apply the ratio of increase in the numbers requiring accommodation observable during the last year, some conclusion may be formed as to the period for which these additional beds are likely to be found sufficient to meet the constantly increasing wants of the country, and how far they will tend towards the object we have sought most anxiously to promote ever since the establishment of this commission, namely, the ultimate closing of licensed houses for pauper lunatics. on the 1st of january, 1857, the number of pauper lunatics in county and borough asylums, hospitals, and licensed houses, amounted to 16,657. on the 1st of january, 1858, this number had increased to 17,572, showing an increase during the year of 915 patients; and of the total number 2467 were confined in the various metropolitan and provincial licensed houses. "assuming, then, that during the next two years the progressive increase in the number of pauper lunatics will be at least equal to that of the year 1857, it follows, that on the 1st of january, 1860, accommodation for 1830 additional patients will be required; and if to this number be added the 2467 patients who are now confined in licensed houses, there will remain, to meet the wants of the ensuing year, only 520 vacant beds. it is obvious, therefore, that if licensed houses are to be closed for the reception of pauper lunatics, some scheme of a far more comprehensive nature must be adopted in order to provide public accommodation for the pauper lunatics of this country." this conclusion must indeed be most unwelcome and discouraging to the rate-payers, and to the magistracy, in whose hands the government reposes the duty of providing for the due care of pauper lunatics in county asylums. to the latter it must be most dispiriting, when we reflect on the zeal and liberality which have generally marked their attempts to secure, not merely the necessary accommodation, but that of the best sort, for the insane poor of their several counties. it is, indeed, an astounding statement for the tax-payer to hear, that, after the expenditure of one or two millions sterling to secure the pauper lunatics of this country the necessary protection, care, and treatment, and the annual burden for maintenance, that a far more comprehensive scheme is demanded. no wonder that the increase of insanity is viewed as so rapid and alarming; no wonder that every presumed plan of saving expense by keeping patients out of asylums should be readily resorted to. the value of the conclusion, and of the facts whereon it rests, certainly merit careful examination; and after the investigation made as to the number of the insane, and their rate of increase and accumulation, such an examination can be more readily accomplished. to revert to the figures put forward by the commissioners, of the number of beds existing in asylums on the 1st of january, 1858, and of that to be furnished by 1860. they reckoned on 16,231 beds at the former date, and on the addition of 4817 by the year 1860, or a total of 21,048. we have, however, shown, that in january 1858 there were 1300 vacant beds, and that there was an over-estimate of the future increase by about 300, leaving, without reckoning the number in progress, 1000 to meet coming claims. this sum being therefore added, gives a total of 22,048 to supply the wants of the pauper insane between the 1st of january, 1858, and the completion of the new asylums in 1860. using the average increase adopted by the commissioners, viz. 915 per annum, there would be at the commencement of the year 1860, 1830 applicants for admission, to be added to the 2467 confined in licensed houses, whom the lunacy commissioners are so anxious to transfer to county institutions, making in all 4297. but according to our corrected valuation, there would be in the course of 1860, room for 5817 patients, that is, a surplus accommodation for 1520. it must be admitted as incorrect on the part of the commissioners, in the report just quoted, to calculate on the whole number of beds obtained by new buildings, as available in january 1860, when, in all probability, 1000 of them will not be ready much before the close of the year; still, after making allowance for the increased number of claimants accruing between that date and the opening of the new asylums, there would, according to the data used, remain vacancies for some thousand or more, instead of the 520 reckoned upon by the commissioners. our review, therefore, is thus far favourable, and suggestive of the possibility of a breathing time before the necessity of a scheme of a "far more comprehensive nature" need be adopted. but, alas! the inquiries previously gone into concerning the number and increase of the insane render any such hope fallacious, and prove that the commissioners have very much underestimated the number to be duly lodged and cared for in asylums; unless indeed, after having secured the transfer of those now in licensed houses to county asylums, they should consider their exertions on behalf of the unfortunate victims of mental disorder among the poor brought to a close. such an idea, however, is, we are persuaded, not entertained by those gentlemen, who have, on the contrary, in their reports frequently advocated the provision of asylums for all the pauper insane with few exceptions, and distinctly set forth the objections to their detention in workhouses. in fact, every well-wisher for the lunatic poor, is desirous to see workhouses disused as receptacles for them, and it naturally appears more important to transfer some of their inmates to proper asylums than to dislodge those detained in licensed houses, where, most certainly, the means of treatment and management available are superior to those existing in workhouse wards. but our efforts on behalf of the insane poor must not cease even when those in workhouses are better cared for, since there then remains that multitude of poor mentally disordered patients scattered among the cottagers of the country, indifferently lodged, and not improbably, indifferently treated, sustained on a mere pittance unwillingly doled out by poor-law guardians, and under no effectual supervision, either by the parish medical officers or by the members of the lunacy board. some provision surely is necessary for this class of the insane; some effectual watching over their welfare desirable; for the quarterly visits required by law (16 & 17 vict. cap. 97, sect. 66) to be made to them by the overworked and underpaid union medical officers cannot be deemed a sufficient supervision of their wants and treatment. these visits, for which the noble honorarium of 2_s._ 6_d._ is to be paid, whatever the distance the medical officer may have to travel,--are intended by the clause of the act to qualify the visitor to certify "whether such lunatics are or are not properly taken care of, and may or may not properly remain out of an asylum;" but practically nothing further is attained by them than a certificate that the pauper lunatic still exists as a burden upon the parish funds; and even this much, as the commissioners in lunacy testify, is not regularly and satisfactorily obtained. a proper inquiry into the condition of the patient, the circumstances surrounding him, the mode of management adopted, and into the means in use to employ or to amuse him, cannot be expected from a parish medical officer at the remuneration offered, engaged as he is in arduous duties; and, more frequently than not, little acquainted with the features of mental disease, or with the plans for its treatment, alleviation, or management. even in the village of gheel in belgium, which has for centuries served as a receptacle for the insane, where there is a well-established system of supervision by a physician and assistants, and where the villagers are trained in their management, those visitors who have more closely looked into its organization and working, have remarked numerous shortcomings and irregularities. but compared with the plan of distributing poor demented patients and idiots, as pursued in this country, in the homes of our poorer classes and peasantry, unused to deal with them, too often regarding them as the subjects of force rather than of persuasion and kindness, and under merely nominal medical oversight four times a year, gheel is literally "a paradise of fools." indeed a similar plan might with great advantage be adopted, particularly in the immediate vicinity of our large county asylums. but to return to the particular subject in question, viz. the proportion of insane poor in workhouses and elsewhere who should rightly find accommodation in asylums, a class of lunatics, as said before, not taken into account by the commissioners in their estimate of future requirements. we let pass the inquiry, what should be done for the 8000 poor imbecile and idiotic paupers boarded in the homes of relatives or others, and confine our observations to the 7947 inmates of workhouses. now, although we entertain a strong conviction of the evils of workhouses as receptacles for the insane, with very few exceptions,--a conviction we shall presently show good grounds for, yet, instead of employing our own estimate, we shall endeavour to arrive at that formed by the lunacy commissioners, of the proportion of lunatics living in them, for whom asylum accommodation should be provided. the principal and special report on workhouses, in relation to their insane inmates, was published in 1847, and in it the commissioners observe (p. 274), that they believe they "are warranted in stating, as the result of their experience, that of the entire number of lunatics in workhouses,--two-thirds at the least--are persons in whom, as the mental unsoundness or deficiency is a congenital defect, the malady is not susceptible of cure, in the proper sense of the expression, and whose removal to a curative lunatic asylum, except as a means of relieving the workhouse from dangerous or offensive inmates, can be attended with little or no benefit. a considerable portion of this numerous class, not less perhaps than a fourth of the whole, are subject to gusts of passion and violence, or are addicted to disgusting propensities, which render them unfit to remain in the workhouse.... but although persons of this description are seldom fit objects for a curative asylum, they are in general capable of being greatly improved, both intellectually and morally, by a judicious system of training and instruction; their dormant or imperfect faculties may be stimulated and developed; they may be gradually weaned from their disgusting propensities; habits of decency, subordination, and self-command may be inculcated, and their whole character as social beings may be essentially ameliorated." in their ninth report (1855), speaking of those classed in the workhouse in-door relief lists, under the head of lunatics or idiots, they observe:--"these terms, which are themselves vague and comprehensive, are often applied with little discrimination, and in practice are made to include every intermediate degree of mental unsoundness, from imbecility on the one hand, to absolute lunacy or idiotcy on the other; and, in point of fact, a very large proportion of the paupers so classed in workhouses, especially in the rural districts, and perhaps four-fifths of the whole, are persons who may be correctly described as harmless imbeciles, whose mental deficiency is chronic or congenital, and who, if kept under a slight degree of supervision, are capable of useful and regular occupation. in the remainder, the infirmity of mind is for the most part combined with and consequent upon epilepsy or paralysis, or is merely the fatuity of superannuation and old age; and comparatively few come within the description of lunatics or idiots, as the terms are popularly understood." lastly, in the eleventh report (1857), the class of pauper insane, whose detention in workhouses is allowable, is indicated in the following paragraph:--"they (workhouses) are no longer restricted to such pauper lunatics as requiring little more than the ordinary accommodation, and being capable of associating with the other inmates, no very grave objection rests against their receiving.... but these are now unhappily the exceptional cases." these extracts are certainly not precise enough to enable us to state, except very approximatively, what may be the estimate of the lunacy commissioners of the numbers who should be rightly placed in asylums. that first quoted appears to set aside one-third as proper inmates of a curative asylum, and amenable to treatment; and then to describe a fourth of the remaining two-thirds, that is, one-sixth, as proper objects of asylum care. on adding these quantities, viz. one-third to one-sixth, we get as the result, one-half as the proportion of workhouse insane considered to be fit subjects for asylums. the second quotation by itself is of little use to our purpose, except in conjunction with the third one and with the context, as printed in the report from which it is taken, relative to the general question of the evils of workhouses as receptacles for the insane. so examined in connection, the published statements and opinions of the commission, lead to the conclusion that the great majority of the insane in workhouses should rightly enjoy the advantages of the supervision, general management, nursing, and dietary of asylums. however, to escape the possible charge of attempting to magnify the deficiency of asylum accommodation, we will, for the time, assume that only one-half of the lunatic inmates of workhouses require asylum treatment; even then we had some 4000 to be provided with it at the beginning of 1858, and should have at the least 4500 by january 1860. having now reduced the estimate of the demands for asylum care to figures, it is practicable to calculate how far those demands can be met by the existing provision in asylums and what may be its deficiency. on the one side, there will be, at the most moderate computation, made as far as possible from data furnished by the reports of the lunacy commissioners, 4500 inmates of workhouses, who should, on or before january 1st, 1860, obtain asylum care and treatment. on the other, there will be, as above shown, about 1000 beds unoccupied at the date mentioned, after accommodation is afforded to the pauper residents in licensed houses, and to the number of insane resulting from accumulation and increase in the course of two years from january 1858. the consequence is, that in january 1860, there will remain some 3500 pauper lunatics unprovided for in proper asylums. in the course of the preceding arguments, we have kept as closely as possible to data furnished by the lunacy commissioners' reports, and withal have made out, satisfactorily we trust, that the provision supplied by existing asylums and by those now in progress of erection, is inadequate to the requirements of the insane population of this country. the idea of its inadequacy would be very greatly enhanced by the employment of the statistical conclusions we have arrived at respecting the number of the insane and their rate of accumulation, and by the reception of the views we entertain against their detention, with comparatively few exceptions, in other receptacles than those specially constructed and organized for their care and treatment. the truth of our opinions we shall endeavour to establish in subsequent pages; and respecting the rate of accumulation of pauper cases, we feel confident that 1800 per annum is within the truth. to meet this increase, both the asylums in existence and those in course of erection are undoubtedly inadequate, and, as the necessary result, workhouse pauper inmates must continue to multiply. if the opinion were accepted that public asylum accommodation should be provided for all the pauper poor, not many more than one-half are at present found to be in possession of it, that is, 17,000 of the 33,000 in the country. hence it would be required, to more than double the present provision in asylums for pauper lunatics, to give room for all and to meet the rapid annual rate of accumulation. chap. iv.--on the curability of insanity. an inquiry into the curability of insanity forms a natural pendent to that concerning the provision required for the insane, and is at the same time a fitting prelude to an investigation of the insufficiency and defects of the present organization of asylums: for it is important to satisfy ourselves as to what extent we may hope to serve the insane, by placing them under the most advantageous circumstances for treatment, before incurring the large expenditure for securing them. now it may be most confidently stated that insanity is a very curable disorder, if only it be brought early under treatment. american physicians go so far as to assert, that it is curable in the proportion of 90 per cent., and appeal to their asylum statistics to establish the assertion. the lunacy commission of the state of massachusetts (_op. cit._ p. 69) thus write:--"in recent cases the recoveries amount to the proportion of 75 to 90 per cent. of all that are submitted to the restorative process. yet it is an equally well-established fact, that these disorders of the brain tend to fix themselves permanently in the organization, and that they become more and more difficult to be removed with the lapse of time. although three-fourths to nine-tenths may be healed if taken within a year after the first manifestation of the disorder, yet if this measure be delayed another year, and the diseases are from one to two years' standing, the cures would probably be less than one-half of that proportion, even with the same restorative means; another and a third year added to the disease diminishes the prospect of cure, and in a still greater ratio than the second; and a fourth still more. the fifth reduces it so low, as to seem to be nothing." dr. kirkbride, physician to the pennsylvania hospital for the insane, in his book "on the construction and organization of hospitals for the insane," says (p. 2):--"of recent cases of insanity, properly treated, between 80 and 90 per cent. recover. of those neglected or improperly managed, very few get well." this is certainly a very flattering estimate, and, inasmuch as it is founded on experience, cannot fairly be questioned. however, before comparing it with the results arrived at in this country, there are some circumstances which call for remark. in the first place, american public asylums are not branded with the appellation 'pauper,' they are called 'state asylums,' and every facility is offered for the admission of cases, and particularly of recent ones, whatever their previous civil condition. again, there is not in the united states the feeling of false pride, of imaginary family dishonour or discredit, to the same extent which is observed in this country, when it pleases providence to visit a relative with mental derangement,--to oppose the transmission to a place of treatment. from these two causes it happens that in america the insane ordinarily receive earlier attention than in this country. lastly, the united states' institutions, by being more accessible, admit a certain proportion of cases of temporary delirium, the consequence of the abuse of alcoholic drinks, of overwrought brain and general excitement,--causes more active in that comparatively new, changing, and rapidly-developing country than in ours. but such cases, which for the most part get well, do not find their way into the asylums of this kingdom. such are some of the circumstances influencing favourably the ratio of cures in america, which need be remembered when comparing it with that which is attained in our own land. the proportion of recoveries above stated, is calculated upon cases of less than a year's duration. let us see what can be effected in england under conditions as similar as practicable, though not equally advantageous. the most satisfactory results we can point to are those obtained at st. luke's hospital, london, where the cures have averaged 62 per cent. upon the admissions during the last ten years. at this and likewise at bethlehem hospital, the rules require that the disorder be not of more than one year's duration at the time of application for admission, and that it be not complicated with epilepsy or paralysis, maladies which so seriously affect its curability. such are the conditions favourable to a high rate of recoveries enforced by rule. on the other hand, there are at st. luke's not a few circumstances in operation prejudicial to the largest amount of success possible. its locality is objectionable, its general construction unfavourable, its grounds for exercise and amusement very deficient, and the means of employment few. but apart from these disadvantages, so prejudicial to its utility and efficiency, there are other causes to explain its ratio of success being less than that estimated by our american brethren to be practicable. though the rule excludes patients the benefit of the hospital if their disease be of more than a year's duration, yet from the great difficulties attending in many cases the inquiry respecting the first appearance of the insanity; its sometimes insidious approach; the defect of observation, or the ignorance, and sometimes the misrepresentations of friends, resorted to in order to ensure success in their application to the charity, older cases gain admission. again, of those admitted in any year, there are always several whose disorder is known to be of nine, ten, or eleven months' duration, and at least a fourth in whom it is of six months' date and upwards. further, although the rules exclude epileptics and paralytics, yet at times the history of fits is withheld by the patients' friends, or the fits are conceived to be of a different character, or the paralysis is so little developed as not to be very recognizable; and as in all ambiguous cases,--whether it be the duration or the complication of the mental disorder which is in doubt, the committee of the hospital give the benefit of the doubt to the patient,--the consequence is, that several such unfavourable cases are received annually. on referring to the statistical tables of the institution, these "unfit" admissions are found to amount to 10 per cent. we have thought these details desirable, on the one hand, to account for the difference in the ratio of cures attained in st. luke's compared with that fixed by american writers; and on the other, to show that though the rate of recoveries at that london hospital is highly gratifying, it might be rendered yet more so if certain impediments to success were removed, and that similar benefits could be realized elsewhere if due provision were made for the early and efficient treatment of the malady. were we at all singular in the assertion of the curability of insanity, we should endeavour to establish it by an appeal to the statistics of recoveries among recent cases in the different english asylums; but instead of advancing a novel opinion, we are only bearing witness to a well-recognized fact substantiated by general experience. this being so, it would be fruitless to occupy time in quoting many illustrations from asylum reports: one will answer our purpose. at the derby county asylum, under the charge of dr. hitchman, a high rate of cures has been reached. in the third report that able physician writes (p. 5),--"it cannot be too often repeated, that the date of the patient's illness at the time of admission is the chief circumstance which determines whether four patients in a hundred, or seventy patients in a hundred, shall be discharged cured. of the 151 cases which have been admitted into the asylum during the past year, eleven only have been received within a week of the onset of their malady; of these eleven, ten have been discharged cured,--the other has been but a short time under treatment." in his sixth report (1857, p. 22), the same gentleman observes,--"the cures during the past year have reached 60 per cent. upon the admissions; but the most gratifying fact has been, that of twenty patients, unafflicted with general paralysis, who were admitted within one month of the primary attack of their maladies, sixteen have left the asylum cured,--three are convalescent, and will probably be discharged at the next meeting of the committee, and the other one was in the last stage of pulmonary consumption when she came to the asylum, and died in three weeks after her admission." after this review of what may be effected in restoring the subjects of mental disorder to reason and society, to their homes and occupations, by means of early treatment, it is discouraging to turn to the average result of recoveries on admissions obtained in our county asylums at large. this average may be taken at 35 per cent., and therefore there will remain of every 100 patients admitted, sixty-five, or, after deducting 10 per cent. of deaths, fifty-five at the end of the year. this number, fifty-five, might fairly be taken to represent the annual per centage of accumulation of the insane in asylums, were the data employed sufficient and satisfactory. but so far as we have yet examined the point, this proportion is larger than a calculation made over a series of years, and may be approximatively stated at 35 per cent. on the admissions. how great would be the gain, alike to the poor lunatic and to those chargeable with his maintenance, could this rapid rate of accumulation be diminished, by raising that of recoveries, or, what is tantamount to it, by securing to the insane prompt and efficient care and treatment! how does it happen that this desideratum is not accomplished by the asylums in existence? what are the impediments to success discoverable in their organization and management, or in the history of their inmates prior to admission? and what can be done to remedy discovered defects, and to secure the insane the best chances of recovery? such are some of the questions to be next discussed. chap. v.--on the causes diminishing the curability of insanity, and involving the multiplication of chronic lunatics. in the preliminary chapters on the number and increase of the insane in this country, we limited ourselves to determine what that number and that increase were, and entered into no disquisition respecting the causes which have operated in filling our asylums with so many thousands of chronic and almost necessarily incurable patients. nor shall we now attempt an investigation of them generally, for this has been well done by others, and particularly by the lunacy commissioners in their ninth report, 1855; but shall restrict ourselves to intimate that the increase of our lunatic population, mainly by accumulation, is due to neglect in past years; to the alteration of the laws requiring the erection of county asylums for pauper lunatics generally; to the collection and discovery of cases aforetime unthought of and unknown; to the extension of the knowledge of the characters and requirements of the insane both among professional men and the public; and, lastly, to the advantages themselves of asylum accommodation which tend to prolong the lives of the inmates. such are among the principal causes of the astounding increase in the number of the insane of late years, relatively to the population of the country, some of which fortunately will in course of time be less productive. those, however, which we now desire to investigate, are such as directly affect the curability of insanity, either by depriving its victims of early and efficient treatment, or by lessening the efficiency and usefulness of the public asylums. the history of an insane patient is clearly divisible into three portions: 1st, that before admission into an asylum; 2nd, that of his residence in an asylum; and 3rd, of that after his discharge from it. the last division we have at present nothing to do with; and with reference to the causes influencing his curability, these group themselves under two heads parallel to the first two divisions of the patient's history; viz. 1, those in operation external to, and 2, those prevailing in, asylums. a. _causes external to asylums._ the chief cause belonging to this first class is that of delay in submitting recent cases to asylum care and treatment. this delay, as we have sufficiently proved, operates most seriously by diminishing the curability of insanity, and thereby favours the accumulation of chronic lunatics. it takes place in consequence either of the desire of friends to keep their invalid relatives at their homes; or of the economical notions of poor-law officers, who, to avoid the greater cost of asylums, detain pauper lunatics in workhouses. other causes of incurability and of the accumulation of incurables are found in injudicious management and treatment before admission, and in the transmission of unfit cases to asylums. to discuss the several points suggested in these considerations will require this chapter to be subdivided; and first we may treat of the detention of patients in their own homes. § _detention of patients in their own homes._ although the immense importance of early treatment to recent cases of insanity is a truth so well established and so often advocated, yet the public generally fail to appreciate it, and from unfortunate notions of family discredit, from false pride and wounded vanity, delay submitting their afflicted relatives to efficient treatment. unless the disorder manifest itself by such maniacal symptoms that no one can be blind to its real character, the wealthier classes especially will shut their eyes to the fact they are so unwilling to recognize, and call the mental aberration nervousness or eccentricity; and as they are unwilling to acknowledge the disorder, so are they equally indisposed to subject it to the most effectual treatment, by removing the patient from home, and the exciting influence of friends and surrounding circumstances in general, to a properly organized and managed asylum. usually a patient with sufficient resources at command, is kept at home as long as possible, at great cost and trouble; and if he be too much for the control of his relatives and servants, attendants are hired from some licensed house to manage him; the only notion prevailing in the minds of his friends being that means are needed to subdue his excitement and to overcome his violence. there are, in fact, no curative agencies at work around him, but on the contrary, more or fewer conditions calculated to exalt his furor, to agitate and disquiet his mind, and to aggravate his malady. the master of the house finds himself checked in his will; disobeyed by his servants; an object of curiosity, it may be, of wonder and alarm; and sadly curtailed in his liberty of action. the strange attendants forced upon him are to be yielded to only under passionate protests, and probably after a struggle. in all ways the mental disorder is kept up if not aggravated, and every day the chances of recovery are diminished. perhaps matters may grow too bad for continued residence at home, or the malady have lasted so long, that the broken-up state of family and household can no longer be tolerated, and a transfer from home is necessitated. yet even then removal to an asylum,--the only step which can hold out a fair prospect of recovery, is either rejected as quite out of the question, or submitted to usually after still longer delay,--a "trial" being made of a lodging with a medical man or other person, probably with an asylum attendant. by this plan certainly the patient is saved from the presence and excitement of his family, and placed under altered conditions, calculated to exercise in some respects a salutary influence on his mind; still many others are wanting, and no guarantee is attainable of the manner in which he is treated; for as a single patient, and as is usually the case, restrained without certificates, he is almost invariably unknown to the commissioners, and virtually unprotected, even though a medical man be paid to attend him occasionally. at last, however, except for a few, the transfer to the asylum generally becomes inevitable, and too often too late to restore the disordered reason; and years of unavailing regret fail to atone for time and opportunity lost. the same unwillingness to subject their insane friends to asylum care and treatment pervades, moreover, the less wealthy classes, and even the poorer grades of the middle class of society. madness, to their conceptions likewise, brings with it a stigma on the family, and its occurrence must, it is felt, be kept a secret. hence an asylum is viewed as an evil to be staved off as long as possible, and only resorted to when all other plans, or else the pecuniary means, are exhausted. if it be the father of the family who is attacked, the hope is, that in a few days or weeks he may resume his business or return to his office, as he might after ordinary bodily illness, without such loss of time as shall endanger his situation and prospects, and without the blemish of a report that he has been the inmate of a madhouse. if it be the wife, the hope is similar, that she will shortly be restored to her place and duties in her family. should progress be less evident than desired, a change away from home will probably be suggested by the medical attendant, and at much expense and trouble carried out. but too frequently, alas! the hopes are blighted and the poor sufferer is at length removed with diminished chance of cure to an asylum. for the poorer members of the middle class, and for many moving in a somewhat higher circle of society, whom the accession of mental disorder impoverishes and cuts off from independence, there are, it is most deeply to be regretted, few opportunities of obtaining proper asylum care and treatment. in very many instances, the charges of even the cheapest private asylum can be borne for only a limited period, and thus far, at the cost of great personal sacrifices and self-denial. sooner or later no refuge remains except the county asylum, where, it may be, from the duration of his disorder, the patient may linger out the remainder of his days. how happy for such a one is it--a person unacquainted with the system of english county asylums, might remark--that such an excellent retreat is afforded! to this it may be replied, that the public asylum ought not to be the _dernier ressort_ of those too poor to secure the best treatment and care in a well-found private establishment, and yet too respectable to be classed and dealt with as paupers entirely and necessarily dependent on the poor's rate. yet so it is under the operation of the existing law and parochial usages, there is no intermediate position, and to reap the benefits of the public asylum, the patient must be classed with paupers and treated as one. his admission into it is rendered as difficult, annoying, and degrading as it can be. his friends, worn out and impoverished in their charitable endeavours to sustain him in his independent position as a private patient, are obliged to plead their poverty, and to sue as paupers the parish officials for the requisite order to admit their afflicted relative to the benefits of the public asylum as a pauper lunatic. in short, they have to pauperize him; to announce to the world their own poverty, and to succumb to a proceeding which robs them of their feelings of self-respect and independence, and by which they lose caste in the eyes of their neighbours. as for the patient himself, unless the nature and duration of his malady have sufficiently dulled his perception and sensibilities, the consciousness of his position as a registered pauper cannot fail to be prejudicial to his recovery; opposed to the beneficial influences a well-regulated asylum is calculated to exert, and to that mental calm and repose which the physician is anxious to procure. in the class of cases just sketched, we have presumed on the ability of the friends to incur the cost of private treatment for a longer or shorter period; but many are the persons among the middle classes, who if overtaken by such a dire malady as insanity, are almost at once reduced to the condition of paupers and compelled to be placed in the same category with them. as with the class last spoken of, so with this one, the law inflicts a like injury and social degradation, and at the same time operates in impeding their access to proper treatment. no one surely, who considers the question, and reflects on the necessary consequences of the present legal requirement that, for a lunatic to enjoy the advantages of a public asylum, towards which he may have for years contributed, he must be formally declared chargeable to the rates as a pauper,--can deny the conclusion that it is a provision which must entail a social degradation upon the lunatic and his family, and act as a great impediment to the transmission of numerous recent cases to the county asylum for early treatment. it will be urged as an apology for it, that the test of pauperism rests on a right basis; that it is contrived to save the rate-payer from the charge of those occupying a sphere above the labouring classes, who fall, as a matter of course, upon the parochial funds whenever work fails or illness overtakes them. it is, in two words, a presumed economical scheme. however, like many other such, it is productive of extravagance and loss, and is practically inoperative as a barrier to the practice of imposition. if it contributes to check the admission of cases at their outbreak into asylums, as no one will doubt it does, it is productive of chronic insanity and of permanent pauperism; and, therefore, besides the individual injury inflicted, entails a charge upon the rates for the remaining term of life of so many incurable lunatics. if, on the contrary, our public asylums were not branded by the appellation "pauper;" if access to them were facilitated and the pauperizing clause repealed, many unfortunate insane of the middle class in question, would be transmitted to them for treatment; the public asylum would not be regarded with the same misgivings and as an evil to be avoided, but it would progressively acquire the character of an hospital, and ought ultimately to be regarded as a place of cure, equivalent in character to a general hospital, and as entailing no disgrace or discredit on its occupant. the commissioners in lunacy, in their ninth report (1855, p. 35), refer to the admissions into county asylums, of patients from the less rich classes of society reduced to poverty by the occurrence of the mental malady, and hint at their influence in swelling the number of the chronic insane, owing to their transfer not taking place until after the failure of their means and the persistence of their disorder for a more or less considerable period. this very statement is an illustration in point; for the circumstance deplored is the result of the indisposition on the part of individuals to reduce their afflicted relatives to the level of paupers by the preliminaries to, and by the act of, placing them in an asylum blazoned to the world as the receptacle for paupers only; an act, whereby, moreover, they advertise to all their own poverty, and their need to ask parish aid for the support of their poor lunatic kindred. on the continent of europe and in the united states of america we obtain ample evidence that the plan of pauperizing patients in order to render them admissible to public asylums, is by no means necessary. most continental asylums are of a mixed character, receiving both paying and non-paying inmates, and care is taken to investigate the means of every applicant for admission, and those of his friends chargeable by law with his maintenance. those who are paid for are called "pensioners" or boarders, and are divided into classes according to the sum paid, a particular section of the asylum being assigned to each class. besides those pensioners who pay for their entire maintenance, there are others whose means are inadequate to meet the entire cost, and who are assessed to pay a larger or smaller share of it. lowest in the scale of inmates are those who are entirely chargeable to the departmental or provincial revenue, being devoid of any direct or indirect means of support. probably the machinery of assessment in the continental states might not accord with english notions and be too inquisitorial for adoption _in toto_; but at all events, on throwing open public asylums for the reception of all lunatics who may apply for it, without the brand of pauperism being inflicted upon them, some scheme of fairly estimating the amount they ought to contribute to their maintenance should be devised. for the richer classes a plan of inquisition into their resources is provided, and there seems no insuperable difficulty in contriving some machinery whereby those less endowed with worldly goods might, at an almost nominal expense, have their means duly examined and apportioned to their own support and that of their families. overseers and relieving officers are certainly not the persons to be entrusted with any such scheme, nor would we advocate a jury, for in such inquiries few should share; but would suggest it as probably practicable that the amount of payment might be adjudged by two or three of the committee of visitors of the asylum with the clerk of the guardians of the union or parish to which the lunatic belonged. in the united states of america, every tax-payer and holder of property is entitled as a tax-payer, when insane, to admission into the asylum of the state of which he is a citizen. he is considered as a contributor to the erection and support of the institution, and as having therefore a claim upon its aid if disease overtake him. the cost of his maintenance is borne by the township or county to which he belongs, and the question of his means to contribute towards it is determined by the county judge and a jury. most of the asylums of the republic also receive boarders at fixed terms, varying according to the accommodation desired; hence there are very few private asylums in the states. in the state of new york there is a special legal provision intended to encourage the early removal of recent cases to the asylum; whereby persons not paupers, whose malady is of less than one year's duration, are admitted without payment, upon the order of a county judge, granted to an application made to him, setting forth the recent origin of the attack and the limited resources of the patient. such patients are retained two years, at the end of which time they are discharged, their friends being held responsible for the removal. their cost in the asylum is defrayed by the county or parish to which they belong. we have said above, that the requirement of the declaration of pauperism is ineffectual in guarding the interests of the rate-payer against the cost of improper applicants. indeed, the proceeding adopted to carry it out is both absurd and useless, besides being, as just pointed out, mischievous in its effects. in the interpretation clause of "the lunatic asylums' act, 1853," it is ordered that a "pauper shall mean every person maintained wholly or in part by, or chargeable to, any parish, union, or county." hence when insanity overtakes an unfortunate person who is not maintained by a parish or union, it is required that he be made chargeable to one, or, as we have briefly expressed the fact, that he be pauperized. to effect this object, the rule is, that the patient shall reside at least a day and a night in a workhouse. this proceeding, we repeat, carries absurdity on the face of it. either it may be a mere farce privately enacted between the parish officers and the friends of the patient, to the complete frustration of the law so far as the protection of the rate-payers is contemplated; or, it may be made to inflict much pain and annoyance on the applicants by the official obstructiveness, impertinent curiosity, obtuseness, and possible ill-feeling of the parish functionaries in whose hands the law has practically entrusted the principal administration of the details regulating the access to our public asylums. it is no secret among the superintendents of county asylums, that by private arrangements with the overseers or guardians of parishes, cases gain admission contrary to the letter and spirit of the law, and to the exclusion of those who have legally a prior and superior claim. we have, indeed, the evidence of the lunacy commissioners, to substantiate this assertion. in their ninth report (1855, p. 34) they observe,--"in some districts a practice has sprung up, by which persons, who have never been themselves in receipt of parochial relief, and who are not unfrequently tradesmen, or thriving artisans, have been permitted to place lunatic relations in the county asylums, as pauper patients, under an arrangement with the guardians for afterwards reimbursing to the parish the whole, or part, of the charge for their maintenance. this course of proceeding is stated to prevail to a considerable extent in the asylums of the metropolitan counties, and its effect in occupying with patients, not strictly or originally of the pauper class, the space and accommodations which were designed for others who more properly belong to it, has more than once been made the subject of complaint." desiring, as we do, to see our county asylums thrown open to the insane generally, by the abolition of the pauper qualification, it is rather a subject of congratulation that cases of the class referred to do obtain admission into them, even when contrary to the letter of the law. but we advance the quotation and assertion above to show, that the pauperizing provision of the act is ineffective in the attainment of its object; and to remark, that the opportunities at connivance it offers to parochial officials, must exercise a demoralizing influence and be subversive of good government. if private arrangements can be made between the applicants for an assumed favour, and parish officers, who will undertake to say that there shall not be bribery and corruption? sufficient, we trust, has been said to demonstrate the evils of the present system of pauperizing patients to qualify them for admission into county asylums, and the desirability of opening those institutions to all lunatics of the middle classes whose means are limited, and whose social position as independent citizens is jeopardized by the existence of their malady. this class of persons, as before said, calls especially for commiseration and aid; being so placed, on the one hand, that their limited means must soon fail to afford them the succour of a private asylum; and on the other, with the door of the public institution closed against them, except at the penalty of pauperism and social degradation. what we would desire is, that every recent case of insanity should at once obtain admission into the public asylum of the county or borough, if furnished with the necessary medical certificates and with an order from a justice who has either seen the patient or received satisfactory evidence as to his condition (see remarks on duties of district medical officers), and obtained from the relatives an undertaking to submit to the assessment made by a commission as above proposed, or constituted in any other manner thought better; or the speedy admission of recent cases might otherwise be secured by prescribing their attendance and that of their friends before the weekly committee of the visitors of the asylum, by whom the order for reception might be signed on the requisite medical certificates being produced, and the examination for the assessment of the patient's resources formally made, with the assistance possibly of some representative of the parish interests,--such for instance as the clerk to the board of guardians. in the county courts the judges are daily in the habit of ordering periodical payments to be made in discharge of debts upon evidence offered to them of the earnings or trade returns of the debtor; and there seems no _a priori_ reason against the investigation of the resources of a person whose friends apply for his admission into a county asylum. it is for them to show cause why the parish or county should assume the whole or the partial cost of the patient's maintenance, and this can be done before the committee of the asylum or any private board of inquiry with little annoyance or publicity. rather than raise an obstacle to the admission of the unfortunate sufferer, it would be better to receive him at once and to settle pecuniary matters afterwards. we must here content ourselves with this general indication of the machinery available for apportioning the amount of payment to be made on account of their maintenance by persons not paupers, or for determining their claim upon the asylum funds. yet we cannot omit the opportunity to remark that the proceedings as ordered by the existing statute with a similar object are incomplete and unsatisfactory. these proceedings are set forth in _sects._ xciv. and civ. (16 & 17 vict. cap. 97). the one section of the act is a twin brother to the other, and it might be imagined by one not "learned in the law," that one of the two sections might with little alteration suffice. be this as it may, it is enacted that if it appear to two justices (_sect._ xciv.) by whose order a patient has been sent to an asylum, or (_sect._ civ.) "to any justice or justices by this act authorized to make any order for the payment of money for the maintenance of any lunatic, that such lunatic" has property or income available to reimburse the cost of his maintenance in the asylum, such justices (_sect._ xciv.) shall apply to the nearest known relative or friend for payment, and if their notice be unattended to for one month, they may authorize a relieving officer or overseer to seize the goods, &c. of the patient, whether in the hands of a trustee or not, to the amount set forth in their order. _sect._ civ. makes no provision for applying to relatives or friends in the first instance, but empowers the justice or justices to proceed in a similar way to that prescribed by _sect._ xciv., to repay the patient's cost; with the additional proviso that, besides the relieving officer or overseer, "the treasurer or some other officer of the county to which such lunatic is chargeable, or in which any property of the lunatic may be, or an officer of the asylum in which such lunatic may be," may proceed to recover the amount charged against him. concerning these legal provisions, we may observe, that the state of the lunatic's pecuniary condition is left to accidental discovery. the justices signing the order of admission (_sect._ xciv.) have no authority given them to institute inquiries, although they may learn by report that the patient for whom admission is solicited is not destitute of the means of maintenance. nor are the justices who make the order for payment (_sect._ civ.) in any better position for ascertaining facts. there is, in short, no authorized and regular process for investigating the chargeability of those who are not actually in the receipt of parochial relief on or before application for their admission into the county asylum, or who must necessarily be chargeable by their social position when illness befalls them. again, according to the literal reading of the sections in question, no partial charge for maintenance can be proposed; no proportion of the cost can be assessed, where the patient's resources are unequal to meet the whole. lastly, the summary process of seizing the goods or property of any sort, entrusted to those who are most probably the informers of the justices, namely overseers and relieving officers; and, by _sect._ civ., carried out without any preliminary notice or application, and without any investigation of the truth of the reports which may reach the justices, is certainly a proceeding contrary to the ordinary notions of equity and justice. § _detention of patients in workhouses._ in the case of the insane poor, whose condition, circumstances, and social position have been such that whenever any misfortune, want of work, or sickness has overtaken them, the workhouse affords a ready refuge, the requirement of pauperization to qualify for admission to the county asylum is in itself no hardship and no obstacle to their transmission to it. probably the prevailing tactics of parish officers may at times contribute to delay the application for relief, but the great obstacle to bringing insane paupers under early and satisfactory treatment in the authorized receptacle for them--the county asylum, is the prevalence of an economical theory respecting the much greater cheapness of workhouse compared with asylum detention. the practical result of this theory is, that generally where a pauper lunatic can by any means be managed in a workhouse, he is detained there. if troublesome, annoying, and expensive, he is referred to the county asylum; this is the leading test for the removal; the consideration of the recent or chronic character of his malady is taken little or no account of. in fresh cases the flattering hope is that the patients will soon recover, and that the presumed greater cost of asylum care can be saved; in old ones the feeling is that they are sufficiently cared for, if treated like the other pauper inmates, just that amount of precaution being attempted which may probably save a public scandal or calamity. to the prevalence of these economical notions and practice may be attributed the large number of lunatics detained in workhouses (nearly 8000), and the equally large one living with their friends or others. now it is very desirable to inquire whether these theories of the superior economy of workhouses compared with asylums as receptacles for the insane, are true and founded on facts. this question is in itself twofold, and leaves for investigation, first, that of the mere saving in money on account of maintenance and curative appliances; and secondly, that of the comparative fitness or unfitness, the advantages or disadvantages, the profit or loss, of the two kinds of institutions in relation to the welfare, the cure, and the relief of the poor patients placed in them. these questions press for solution in connexion with the subject of the accumulation of lunatics and the means to be adopted for its arrest, or, what is equivalent to this, for promoting the curability of the insane. on making a comparative estimate of charges, it is essential to know whether the same elements of expenditure are included in the two cases; if the calculated cost per head for maintenance in workhouses and asylums respectively comprises the same items, and generally, if the conditions and circumstances so far as they affect their charges are rightly comparable. an examination we are confident, will prove that in no one of these respects are they so. in the first place, the rate of maintenance in an asylum is calculated on the whole cost of board, clothing, bedding, linen, furniture, salaries, and incidental expenditure; that is, on the total disbursements of the establishment, exclusive only of the expenditure for building and repairs, which is charged to the county. on the contrary, the "in-maintenance" in workhouses comprises only the cost of food, clothing, and necessaries supplied to the inmates (see poor-law board tenth report, p. 144). the other important items reckoned on in fixing the rate of cost per head in asylums are charged to the "establishment" account of the workhouse, and are omitted in the calculation of the rate of maintenance. reference to the tables given in the poor-law board returns (tenth report, p. 61, sub-column _e_ and a portion of _f_) will prove that the expenditure on account of those other items must be nearly or quite equal to that comprehended under the head of "in-maintenance" cost. we have no means at hand to calculate with sufficient precision what sum should be added to the "in-maintenance" cost of paupers per head in workhouses, but it is quite clear that the figures usually employed to represent it, cannot be rightly compared with those exhibiting the weekly charge of lunatics in asylums. at the very least half as much again must be added to a workhouse estimate before placing it in contrast with asylum cost. since the preceding remarks were written, dr. bucknill has favoured us with the thirteenth report of the devon asylum, in which he has discussed this same question and illustrated it by a special instance. to arrive at the actual cost of an adult sane pauper in a union-house, he gathered "the following particulars relative to the house of the st. thomas union in which this asylum is placed; a union, the population of which is 49,000, and which has the reputation of being one of the best managed in the kingdom. the cost of the maintenance of paupers in this union-house is 2_s._ 6_d._ per head, per week, namely, 2_s._ 2_d._ for food and 4_d._ for clothing. the establishment charges are 1_s._ 0-1/2_d._ per head, per week, making a total of 3_s._ 6-1/2_d._ for each inmate. the total number of pauper inmates during the twelfth week of the present quarter was 246; and of these 116 were infants and children, and 130 youths above sixteen and adults. a gentleman intimately acquainted with these accounts, some time since calculated for me that each adult pauper in the st. thomas's union-house cost 5_s._ a week. now the average cost of all patients in the devon asylum at the present time is 7_s._ 7_d._, but of this at least 2_s._ must be set down to the extra wages, diet, and other expenses needful in the treatment of the sick, and of violent and acute cases, leaving the cost of the great body of chronic patients at not more than 5_s._ 7_d._ a week. now if a sane adult pauper in a union-house costs even 4_s._ 6_d._ a week, is it probable that an insane one would cost less than 5_s._ 7_d._? for either extra cost must be incurred in his care, or he must disturb the discipline of the establishment, and every such disturbance is a source of expense." this quotation is really a reiteration of dr. bucknill's conclusions as advanced in 1857, in an excellent paper in the 'asylum journal' (vol. iv. p. 460), and as a pendent to it the following extract from this paper is appropriate; viz. "that the cost of a chronic lunatic properly cared for, and supplied with a good dietary, in a county asylum, is not greater than that of a chronic lunatic supplied with a coarse and scanty dietary, and detained in neglect and wretchedness as the inmate of a union workhouse." another most important circumstance to be borne in mind when the cost of workhouses and asylums is contrasted, is that in the former establishments more than two-thirds of the inmates are children. thus the recipients of in-door relief on the 1st of january, 1858, consisted, according to the poor-law returns, of 74,141 adults, and 50,836 children under sixteen years of age. now as the rate of maintenance is calculated on the whole population of a workhouse, adults and children together, it necessarily follows that it falls much within that of asylums, in which almost the whole population is adult. this very material difference in the character of the inmates of the two institutions may fairly be valued as equivalent to a diminution of one-fourth of the expense of maintenance in favour of workhouses; and without some such allowance, the comparison of the cost per head in asylums and union-houses respectively is neither fair nor correct. again, there is another difference between asylums and workhouses, which tells in favour of the latter in an economical point of view, whilst it proves that the expenditure of the two is not rightly comparable without making due allowance for it along with the foregoing considerations. this difference subsists in the character of the two institutions respectively; namely, that in the asylum the movements of the population are slight, whereas in the workhouse they are very considerable by the constant ingress and egress of paupers; driven to it by some passing misfortune or sickness, it may be for a week or two only or even less, and discharging themselves so soon as the temporary evil ceases to operate or the disorder is overcome: for the poor generally, except the old and decrepit who cannot help themselves, both dread a lodging in the workhouse, and escape from it as soon as possible; in fact, even when they have no roof of their own to shelter them, they will often use the union accommodation only partially, leaving it often by day and returning to it by night. all this implies a large fluctuation of inmates frequently only partially relieved, whether in the way of board or clothing; and consequently when the average cost per head of in-door paupers is struck, it appears in a greater or less degree lower than it would have done had the same constancy in numbers and in the duration and extent of the relief afforded prevailed as it does in asylums. the effect of the fluctuations in population in union-houses ought, we understand, to be slight, if the "orders in council" laid down to guide parochial authorities in the calculation of the cost of their paupers, were adhered to; viz. that for all those belonging to any one parish in union, who may have received in-door relief during the year or for any less period of time, an equivalent should be found representing the number who have been inmates throughout the year; or the total extent of relief be expressed by estimating it to be equal to the support of one hypothetical individual for any number of years equivalent to the sum of the portions of time the entire number of the paupers of the particular parish received the benefits of the establishment. we do not feel sure that these plans of calculating the cost per head are faithfully and fully executed; the rough method of doing so, viz. by taking the whole cost of "in-maintenance" at the end of the year and dividing it by the number of its recipients, and assuming the quotient to represent the expenditure for each. whether this be the case or not, these daily changes among its inmates, the frequent absence of many for a great part of the day and the like, are to be enumerated among the circumstances which tend to keep down expenditure of workhouses; and which are not found in asylums. there is yet another feature about workhouses which distinguishes them from asylums, and is of considerable moment in the question of the comparative cost of maintenance in the two: this is, the circumstance of the population of workhouses being of a mixed character, of which the insane constitute merely a small section; while, on the contrary, that of asylums is entirely special, and each of its members to be considered a patient or invalid demanding particular care and special appliances. therefore, _a priori_, no comparison as to their expenditure can justly be drawn between two institutions so dissimilar. yet even this extent of dissimilarity between them is not all that exists; for the union-house is so constituted by law as to serve as a test of poverty; to offer no inducements to pauperism, and to curtail the cost of maintenance as far as possible. it has properly no organization for the detention, supervision, moral treatment and control, nor for the nursing or medical care of the insane; and when its establishment is attempted it is a step at variance with its primary intention, and involves an extra expenditure. consequently, before overseers or guardians can with any propriety contrast the workhouse charges of maintenance with those of asylums, it is their business to estimate what an adult pauper lunatic costs them per week, instead of, as usual, quoting the cost per head calculated on the whole of the inmates, old and young, sane and insane. once more, even after a fair estimate of the cost of an adult insane inmate of a workhouse is obtained, there is still another differential circumstance favourable to a less rate than can be anticipated in asylums; for this reason:--that in the former institutions the practice is to reject all violent cases, the major portion of recent ones, and, generally, all those who give particular annoyance and trouble; whilst the latter is, as it rightly should be, regarded as the fitting receptacle for all such patients;--that is, in other words, those classes of patients which entail the greatest expense are got rid of by the workhouses and undertaken by the asylums. dr. bucknill has well expressed the same circumstances we have reviewed, in the following paragraph (report, devon asylum, 1858, p. 13):--"in estimating the cost of lunatic paupers in asylums, the important consideration must not be omitted, that the charge made for the care and maintenance of lunatics in county asylums is averaged upon those whose actual cost is much greater, and those whose actual cost is less than the mean; so that it would be unfair for the overseers of a parish to say of any single patient that he could be maintained for a smaller sum than that charged, when the probability is that there are or have been patients in the asylum from the same parish, whose actual cost to the asylum has been much greater than that charged to the parish. i have shown, that the actual cost of chronic patients in an asylum exceeds that of adult paupers in union-houses to a much smaller extent than has been stated: but if all patients of this description were removed from the asylum, the inevitable result must be that the average cost of those who remained would be augmented, so that the pecuniary result to the parishes in the county would be much the same. the actual cost of an individual patient, if all things are taken into calculation, is often three or four times greater than the average. leaving out of consideration the welfare of the patients, it would be obviously unfair to the community, that a parish having four patients in the asylum, the actual cost of two of whom was 12_s._ a week, and of the other two only 4_s._ a week, should be allowed to remove the two who cost the smaller sum, and be still permitted to leave the other two at the average charge of 8_s._" the conclusion of the whole matter is, that _cæteris paribus_, _i. e._ supposing workhouses to be equally fitting receptacles for the insane as asylums, the differential cost of the two can only be estimated when it is ascertained that the items of maintenance are alike in the two, and after that an allowance is made for the different characters of their population and of their original purpose; that is, in the instance of workhouses, for the very large number of juvenile paupers; for the great fluctuations in the residents; for the mixed character of their inmates, of sane and insane together, and the small proportion of insane, and for the exclusion of the most expensive classes of such patients. let these matters be fairly estimated, and we doubt much if, even _primâ facie_, it can be shown that the workhouse detention of pauper lunatics is more economical than that of properly constructed and organized asylums. should we even be so far successful as to make poor-law guardians and overseers perceive that the common rough-and-ready mode of settling the question of relative cost in asylums and workhouses, by contrasting the calculated rate per head for in-door relief with that for asylum care, is not satisfactory; we cannot cherish the flattering hope that they will be brought to perceive that, simply in an economical point of view, no saving at all is gained by the detention of the insane in workhouses. those poor-law officials generally are so accustomed to haggle about fractional parts of a penny in voting relief, to look at an outlay of money only with reference to the moment, forgetful of future retribution for false economy, and to handle the figures representing in their estimate the economical superiority of the workhouse for the insane, when they desire to silence an opponent;--that the task of proving to them that their theory and practice are wrong, is equivalent to the infelicitous endeavour to convince men against their will. still, however unpromising our attempt may appear, it is not right to yield whilst any legitimate arguments are at hand; and our repertory of them, even of those suited to a contest concerning the pounds, shillings, and pence of the matter, is not quite exhausted; for we are prepared to prove, that asylum accommodation can be furnished to the lunatic poor at an outlay little or not at all exceeding that for workhouses. now this point to be argued, the cost of asylum construction, is not, like the foregoing considerations, chiefly the affair of poor-law guardians and overseers, but concerns more particularly the county magistrates, inasmuch as it is defrayed out of the county instead of the poor rate. but although this is the case, there is no doubt that the very great expense of existing asylums has acted as an impediment to the construction of others, and has seemed to justify, to a certain extent, the improper detention of many insane persons in workhouses: for, on one side, asylums are found to have cost for their construction and fittings, £150, £200, and upwards per head, whilst on the other, workhouses are built at the small outlay, on an average, of eighty-six such establishments, of £22 per head. the "return" made to the house of commons, june 15, 1857, "of the cost of building workhouses in england and wales, erected since 1840," shows indeed a very wide variation of cost in different places, from £13 per head for the congleton union house; £14 for the erpingham; £16 for the stockton and tenterden, to £47 for the kensington; £50 for the dulverton; £59 for the city of london; £60 for st. margaret westminster; and £113 for the paddington. this enormous difference of expenditure on workhouse lodging,--for, unlike asylum costs, it does not include fittings, extending from £13 to £113 per inmate,--is really inexplicable, after allowing for the varying ideas of parish authorities as to what a workhouse should be, and for the slight differences in the cost of building materials and labour in some parts of the country than in others. either some workhouses must be most miserable and defective habitations even for paupers, or others must be very extravagant and needlessly expensive in their structure. there is this much to be said in explanation of the contrast of cost in different workhouses, that in those belonging to large town populations, infirmary accommodation becomes an item of importance and involves increased expenditure, whilst in those situated in agricultural districts, this element of expense is almost wanting. moreover it is in town workhouses generally that lunatic inmates are found, who, if not in the infirmary, are lodged in special wards, often so constructed as to meet their peculiar wants, and therefore more costly than the rest of the institution occupied by the ordinary pauper inmates. this is the same with saying that where workhouses are used as receptacles for the insane, it greatly enhances the cost of their construction. it will be evident to every thinking person that the costs of asylum and of workhouse construction are not fairly comparable. the asylum is a special building; an instrument of treatment; peculiarly arranged for an invalid population, affording facilities for classification, recreation, and amusements; and fitted with costly expedients for warming and ventilation; whereas the workhouse is essentially a refuge for the destitute, necessarily made not too inviting in its accommodation and internal arrangements; suited to preserve the life of sound inmates who need little more than the shelter of a roof and the rude conveniences the majority of them have been accustomed to. now these very characteristics of workhouses are among the best arguments against the detention of lunatics within these buildings; but of these hereafter. there is doubtless a permissible pride in the ability to point to a well-built asylum, commanding attention by its dimensions and architectural merits, and we would be the last to decry the beauties and benefits of architecture, and know too, that an ugly exterior may cost as much or more than a meritorious one; yet we must confess to misgivings that there has been an unnecessary and wasteful expenditure in this direction. nevertheless it is with asylums as with railways, the present race of directors are reaping instruction from the extravagances and errors its predecessors fell into. the change of opinion among all classes respecting the character and wants of the insane and their mode of treatment, is of itself so great, that many of the structural adaptations and general dispositions formerly made at great cost, are felt to be no longer necessary, and the very correct and happy persuasion daily gains ground, that the less the insane are dealt with as prisoners, and treated with apprehension and mistrust, the more may their accommodation be assimilated to that of people in general, and secured at a diminished outlay. all this suggests the possibility of constructing asylums at a much less cost than formerly, and of thereby lessening the force of one of the best pleas for using workhouses as receptacles for the insane. the possibility of so doing has been proved both theoretically and practically. in an essay 'on the construction of public asylums,' published in the "asylum journal" for january 1858 (vol. iv. p. 188), we advocated the separation of the dayfrom the night-accommodation of patients, and the abolition of the system of corridors with dayand sleeping-rooms, or, as we briefly termed it, "the ward-system," and showed that by so doing a third of the cost of construction might be saved, whilst the management of the institution would be facilitated, and the position of the patients improved. by a careful estimate, made by a professional architect, with the aid of the necessary drawings, for a building of considerable architectural pretension, it was calculated that most satisfactory, cheerful, and eligible accommodation could be secured, including farm-buildings, and fittings for warming, ventilation, drainage, gas, &c., at the rate of £90 per head for patients of all classes, or at one-half of the ordinary cost. experience has shown that chronic lunatics, at least, can be accommodated in an asylum at a lower rate, in fact, at little more than half the expense that we calculated upon. like other county asylums, the devon became filled with patients; still they came, and after attempts to cram more into the original edifice, by slight alterations, and by adding rooms here and there, it was at length found necessary to make a considerable enlargement. instead of adding floors or wings to the old building, which would have called for a repetition of the same original expensive construction of walls, and of rooms and corridors, the committee, with the advice of their excellent physician, wisely determined to construct a detached building on a new plan, which promised every necessary convenience and security with wonderful cheapness; and, for once in a way, an architect's cheap estimate was not exceeded. instead of £200 or £250 per head, as of old, accommodation was supplied at the rate of £38: 10_s._ per patient, including fittings for all the rooms and a kitchen:--a marvel, certainly, in asylum construction, and one which should have the effect of reviving the hopes and wishes of justices, once at least so laudably entertained, to provide in county asylums for _all_ pauper lunatics of the county. it is only fair to remark, that, as dr. bucknill informs us (asylum journal, 1858, p. 323), this new section of the devon asylum is dependent on the old institution for the residences of officers, for chapel, dispensary, store-rooms, &c. "it is difficult," writes dr. bucknill, "to estimate the proportion which these needful adjuncts to the wards of a complete asylum bear to the expense of the old building; they can scarcely, however, be estimated at so high a figure as one-eighth of the whole." but, as a set-off against the increased cost per patient involved in supplying the necessary offices described by dr. bucknill, we may mention that there are twenty single sleeping-rooms provided in the building, and that a greater cost was thereby entailed, than many would think called for, where only chronic, and generally calm patients, were to be lodged. these illustrations of what may be done in the way of obtaining good asylum accommodation for pauper lunatics at no greater rate, we are persuaded, than that incurred in attempting to provide properly for them in workhouses, furnish a most valid reason for discontinuing their detention in the latter, and the more so, if, as can be demonstrated, they are unfit receptacles for them. the possibility of constructing cheap asylums being thus far proved, the question might be put, whether the internal cost of such institutions could not be lessened? we fear that there is not much room for reform in this matter, if the patients in asylums are rightly and justly treated, and the officers and attendants fairly remunerated. in producing power, an asylum exceeds a workhouse, and therein derives an advantage in diminishing expenditure and the cost of maintenance. on the other hand, the expenditure of a workhouse is much less in salaries, particularly in those given to its medical officer and servants, a form of economy which will never repay, and, we trust, will never be tried in asylums. warming, ventilation, and lighting are less thought of, little attempted, and therefore less expensive items in workhouse than in asylum accounts. with respect to diet and clothing, workhouses ought to exhibit a considerable saving; but this saving is rather apparent than real, and certainly in the wrong direction; for lunatics of all sorts require a liberal dietary, warm clothing, and, from their habits frequently, more changes than the ordinary pauper inmates; yet these are provisions, which, except there is actual sickness or marked infirmity, the insane living in a workhouse do not enjoy; for they fare like the other inmates, are clothed the same, and are tended or watched over by other paupers; the saving, therefore, is at the cost of their material comfort and well-being. excepting, therefore, the gain to be got by the labours of the patients, there is no set-off in favour of asylum charges; in short, in other respects none can be obtained without inflicting injury and injustice. on the other hand, workhouse expenditure need be raised if the requisite medical and general treatment, nursing, dietary, employment, and recreation are to be afforded; which is the same as saying, that workhouses, if receptacles for the insane at all, should be assimilated to asylums,--a principle, which, if admitted and acted upon, overturns at once the only argument for their use as such, viz. its economy. the perception on the part of parochial authorities, that something more than the common lodging and attendance of the workhouse is called for by the insane inmates, has led to the construction of "lunatic wards" for their special accommodation, a scheme which may be characterized as an extravagant mistake, whether viewed in reference to economical principles or the welfare of the patients. if structurally adapted to their object, they must cost as much as a suitable asylum need; and if properly supervised and managed, if a sufficient dietary be allowed, and a proper staff of attendants hired, no conceivable economical advantage over an asylum can accrue. on the contrary, as dr. bucknill has remarked (asylum journal, vol. iv. p. 460), any such attempts at an efficient management of the insane in small and scattered asylums attached to union workhouses, will necessarily increase their rate of maintenance above that charged in a large central establishment, endowed with a more complete organization and with peculiar resources for their management. dr. bucknill returns to the discussion of this point in his just published report (rep. devon asylum, 1858, p. 11). he puts the question, "would a number of small asylums, under the denomination of lunatic wards, be more economical than one central asylum?" and, thus proceeds to reply to it:--"the great probability is that they would not be; 1st, on account of the larger proportion of officials they would require; 2nd, on account of the derangement they would occasion to the severe economy which is required by the aim and purpose of union-houses as tests of destitution. where lunatics do exist in union-houses in consequence of the want of accommodation in the county asylum, the commissioners in lunacy insist upon the provision of what they consider things essential to the proper care of insane persons wherever they be placed. the following are the requirements which they insisted upon as _essential_ in the liverpool workhouse:--a sufficient staff of responsible paid nurses and attendants; a fixed liberal dietary sanctioned by the medical superintendent of the asylum; good and warm clothing and bedding; the rooms rendered much more cheerful and better furnished; the flagged court-yards enlarged and planted as gardens; the patients frequently sent to walk in the country under proper care; regular daily medical visitation; and the use of the official books kept according to law in asylums. if the direct cost of such essentials be computed with the indirect cost of their influence upon the proper union-house arrangements, it will require no argument to prove that workhouse lunatic wards so conducted would effect no saving to the ratepayers. the measures needed to provide in the union-house kitchen a liberal dietary for the lunatic wards and a restricted one for the sane remainder, to control the staff of paid attendants, to arrange frequent walks into the country for part of the community, while the other part was kept strictly within the walls;--these would be inevitable sources of disturbance to the proper union-house discipline, which would entail an amount of eventual expenditure not easily calculated." if, on economical grounds, the system of lunatic wards has no evident merit, none certainly can be claimed for it on the score of its adaptation to their wants and welfare. indeed, the argument for workhouse accommodation, on the plea of economy, loses all its weight when the well-being of the insane is balanced against it. for, if there be any value in the universally accepted opinions of enlightened men, of all countries in europe, of the requirements of the insane, of the desirability for them of a cheerful site, of ample space for out-door exercise, occupation and amusement, of in-door arrangements to while away the monotony of their confinement and cheer the mind, of good air, food and regimen, of careful watching and kind nursing, of active and constant medical supervision and control, or to sum up all in two words, of efficient medical and moral treatment,--then assuredly the wards of a workhouse do not furnish a fitting abode for them. the unfitness of workhouses for the detention of the insane, and the evils attendant upon it, have been repeatedly pointed out by the commissioners in lunacy in their annual reports, and by several able writers. we were also glad to see from the report of his speech, on introducing the lunatic poor (ireland) bill into the house of commons, that lord naas is strongly opposed to the detention of the insane in workhouses, and therein agrees with the irish special lunacy commissioners (1858, p. 18), who have placed their opinion on record in these words:--"it appears to us that there can be no more unsuitable place for the detention of insane persons than the ordinary lunatic wards of the union workhouses." this is pretty nearly the same language as that used by the english commissioners in 1844, viz. "we think that the detention in workhouses of not only dangerous lunatics, but of all lunatics and idiots whatever, is highly objectionable." to make good these general statements, we will, at the risk of some repetition, enter into a few particulars. on the one hand, the presence of lunatics in a workhouse is a source of annoyance, difficulty, and anxiety to the official staff and to the inmates, and withal of increased expense to the establishment. if some of them may be allowed to mix with the ordinary inmates, there are others who cannot, and whose individual liberty and comfort must be curtailed for the sake of the general order and management, and of the security and comfort of the rest. some very pertinent observations occur in the report of the massachusetts lunacy commission (_op. cit._ p. 166), on the mixing of the sane and insane together in the state almshouses, which correspond to our union workhouses. they report that the superintendents "were unanimous in their convictions that the mingling of the insane with the sane in these houses operated badly, not only for both parties, but for the administration of the whole institution." further on, the commissioners observe (p. 168), "by this mingling the sane and insane together, both parties are more disturbed and uncontrollable, and need more watchfulness and interference on the part of the superintendent and other officers.... it has a reciprocal evil effect in the management of both classes of inmates. the evil is not limited to breaches of order; for there is no security against violence from the attrition of the indiscreet and uneasy paupers with the excitable and irresponsible lunatics and idiots. most of the demented insane, and many idiots, have eccentricities; they are easily excited and disturbed; and nothing is more common than for inmates to tease, provoke, and annoy them, in view of gratifying their sportive feelings and propensities, by which they often become excited and enraged to a degree to require confinement to ensure the safety of life.... the mingling of the state paupers, sane and insane, makes the whole more difficult and expensive to manage. it costs more labour, watchfulness, and anxiety to take care of them together than it would to take care of them separately." these sketches from america may be matched in our own country; and they truthfully represent the reciprocal disadvantages of mixing the sane and insane together in the same establishment. even supposing the presence of insane in workhouses involved, on the one hand, no disadvantages to the institutions, or to the sane inmates; yet on the other, the evils to the lunatic inhabitants would be condemnatory of it; for the insane necessarily suffer in proportion as the workhouse accommodation differs from that of asylums; or, inversely, as the economical arrangements and management of a workhouse approach those of an asylum. they suffer from many deficiencies and defects in locality and organization, in medical supervision and proper nursing and watching, in moral discipline, and in the means of classification, recreation, and employment. workhouses are commonly town institutions; their locality often objectionable; their structure indifferent and dull; their site and their courts for exercise confined and small, and their means of recreation and of occupation, especially out of doors, very limited. petty officers of unions so often figure before the world, and have been so admirably portrayed by dickens and other delineators of character, on account of their peculiarities of manner and practice, that no sketch from us is needed to exhibit their unfitness as guardians and attendants upon the insane. as to workhouse nurses, little certainly can be expected from them, seeing that they are only pauper inmates pressed into the service; if aged, feeble and inefficient; if young, not unlikely depraved or weak-minded; always ignorant, and it may be often cruel; without remuneration or training, and chosen with little or no regard to their qualifications and fitness. however satisfactory the structure of the ward and its supervision might be rendered, its connexion with a union workhouse will be disadvantageous to the good government and order of the establishment, as above noticed, and detrimental to the welfare of the insane confined in it. thus it must be remembered that very many of the lunatic inmates have been reduced to seek parochial aid solely on account of the distressing affliction which has overtaken them; before its occurrence, they may have occupied an honourable and respectable position in society, and, consequently, where consciousness is not too much blunted, their position among paupers--too often the subjects of moral degradation--must chafe and pain the disordered mind and frustrate more or less all attempts at its restoration. to many patients, therefore, the detention in a workhouse is a punishment superadded to the many miseries their mental disorder inflicts upon them; and consequently, when viewed only in this light, ought not to be tolerated. of all cases of lunacy, the wards of a workhouse are least adapted to recent ones, for they are deficient of satisfactory means of treatment, whether medical or moral, and the only result of detention in them to be anticipated, must be to render the malady chronic and incurable. yet although every asylum superintendent has reported against the folly and injury of the proceeding, and notwithstanding the distinct and strong condemnation of it by the commissioners in lunacy, the latter, in their report for 1857, have to lament an increasing disposition, on the part of union officers, to receive and keep recent cases in workhouses. moral treatment we hold to be impossible in an establishment where there are no opportunities of classification, no proper supervision and attendance, and no means for the amusement and employment of the mind; but where, on the contrary, the place and organization are directly opposed to it, and the prospects of medical treatment are scarcely less unfavourable. an underpaid and overworked medical officer, in his hasty visits through the wards of the workhouse daily, or perhaps only three or four times a week, very frequently without any actual experience among the insane, cannot be expected to give any special attention to the pauper lunatics, who are mostly regarded as a nuisance in the establishment, to be meddled with as little as possible, and of whose condition only unskilled, possibly old and unfeeling pauper nurses, can give any account. indeed, unless reported to be sick, it scarcely falls into the routine of the union medical officer regularly to examine into the state and condition of the pauper lunatics. these remarks are confirmed by the statement of the lunacy commissioners, in their 'further report,' 1847 (p. 276), that pauper inmates, "in their character of lunatics merely, are rarely the objects of any special medical attention and care," and that it "was never found (except perhaps in a few cases) that the medical officer had taken upon himself to apply remedies specially directed to the alleviation or cure of the mental disorder. nor was this indeed to be expected, as the workhouse never can be a proper place for the systematic treatment of insanity." it would unnecessarily extend the subject to examine each point of management and organization affecting the well-being of the insane in detail, in order to show how unsuitable in all respects a workhouse must be for their detention; yet it may be worth while to direct attention to one or two other matters. except when some bodily ailment is apparent, the lunatic fare like the ordinary inmates; that is, they are as cheaply fed as possible, without regard to their condition as sufferers from disease, which, because mental, obtains no special consideration. it is in the power of the medical officer, on his visits, to order extra diet if he observes any reason in the general health to call for it; but the dependent position of this gentleman upon the parish authorities, and his knowledge that extra diet and its extra cost will bring down upon him the charge of extravagance and render his tenure of office precarious, are conditions antagonistic to his better sentiments concerning the advantages of superior nutriment to his insane patients. moreover, the cost of food is a principal item in that of the general maintenance of paupers, and one wherein the guardians of the poor believe they reap so great an economical advantage over asylums. but this very gain, so esteemed by poor-law guardians, is scouted as a mistake and proved an extravagance, _i. e._ if the life and well-being of the poor lunatics are considered, by the able superintendents of county asylums. dr. bucknill has well argued this matter in a paper "on the custody of the insane poor" (asylum journal, vol. iv. p. 460), and in the course of his remarks says,--"the insane cannot live on a low diet; and while they continue to exist, their lives are rendered wretched by it, owing to the irritability which accompanies mental disease. the assimilating functions in chronic insanity are sluggish and imperfect, and a dietary upon which sane people would retain good health, becomes in them the fruitful source of dysentery and other forms of fatal disease." in his just published report, already quoted, the same excellent physician remarks (p. 9),--"a good diet is essential to the tranquil condition of many idiots and chronic lunatics, and is, without doubt, a principal reason why idiots are easily manageable in this asylum, who have been found to be unmanageable in union houses. the royal commission which has recently reported on the lunatic asylums in ireland states this fact broadly, that 'the ordinary workhouse dietary is unsuited and insufficient for any class of the insane.' it is therefore my opinion, founded upon the above considerations, that neither the lunatics nor the idiots in the list presented are likely to retain their present state of tranquillity, and to be harmless to themselves and others, if they are placed in union houses, unless they are provided with those means which are found by experience to ensure the tranquillity of the chronic insane, and especially with a sufficient number of trustworthy attendants, and with a dietary adapted to their state of health. i have thought it desirable to ascertain the practice of charitable institutions especially devoted to the training of idiots, and i find that a fuller dietary is used in them than in this asylum." until a recent date, it was the custom in workhouses, with few exceptions, to allow most of their insane inmates to mingle with the ordinary pauper inmates of the same age and sex, and in general to be very much on the same footing with them "in everything that regards diet, occupation, clothing, bedding, and other personal accommodation" (report, 1847, p. 276). this mingling of the sane and insane, having been found subversive of good order and management, gave rise first to the plan of placing most of the latter class in particular wards, many of them in the infirmary, and, subsequently, owing to the advance of public opinion respecting the wants of the insane, to the construction, in many unions, of special lunatic wards, emulating more or less the character and purposes of asylums. the false economy of this plan has been already exposed; and although the lunacy commissioners have always set their faces against lunatic wards, yet their construction has of late been so rapid as to call forth a more energetic denunciation of it:--"impressed strongly (the commissioners write, report, 1857, p. 17) with a sense of their many evils, it became our duty, during the past year, to address the poor-law board against the expediency of affording any encouragement or sanction to the further construction, in connexion with union workhouses, of lunatic wards." the evils of lunatic wards, alluded to in the last-quoted paragraph, are thus enlarged upon in another page of the same report (p. 15):--"it is obvious that the state of the workhouses, as receptacles for the insane, is becoming daily a subject of greater importance. they are no longer restricted to such pauper lunatics as,--requiring little more than the ordinary accommodation, and being capable of associating with the other inmates,--no very grave objection rests against their receiving. indeed it will often happen that residence in a workhouse, under such conditions, is beneficial to patients of this last-mentioned class; by the inducements offered, from the example of those around them, to engage in ordinary domestic duties and occupations, and so to acquire gradually the habit of restraining and correcting themselves. but these are now unhappily the exceptional cases. many of the larger workhouses, having lunatic wards containing from 40 to 120 inmates, are becoming practically lunatic asylums in everything but the attendance and appliances which ensure the proper treatment, and above all, in the supervision which forms the principal safeguard of patients detained in asylums regularly constituted. "the result is, that detention in workhouses not only deteriorates the more harmless and imbecile cases to which originally they are not unsuited, but has the tendency to render chronic and permanent such as might have yielded to early care. the one class, no longer associating with the other inmates, but congregated in separate wards, rapidly degenerate into a condition requiring all the attendance and treatment to be obtained only in a well-regulated asylum; and the others, presenting originally every chance of recovery, but finding none of its appliances or means, rapidly sink into that almost hopeless state which leaves them generally for life a burthen on their parishes. nor can a remedy be suggested so long as this workhouse system continues. the attendants for the most part are pauper inmates, totally unfitted for the charge imposed upon them. the wards are gloomy, and unprovided with any means for occupation, exercise, or amusement; and the diet, essential above all else to the unhappy objects of mental disease, rarely in any cases exceeds that allowed for the healthy and able-bodied inmates." the subject had previously received their attention, and is thus referred to in their ninth report (p. 38):--"they are very rarely provided with any suitable occupation or amusement for the inmates. the means of healthful exercise and labour out of doors are generally entirely wanting, and the attendants (who are commonly themselves paupers) are either gratuitous, or so badly organized and so poorly requited, that no reliance can be placed on the efficiency of their services. in short, the wards become in fact places for the reception and detention of lunatics, without possessing any of the safeguards and appliances which a well-constructed and well-managed lunatic asylum affords. your lordship, therefore, will not be surprised to learn that while we have used our best endeavours to remedy their obvious defects and to ameliorate as far as possible the condition of their inmates, we have from the first uniformly abstained from giving any official sanction or encouragement to their construction." they further make this general observation:--"so far as the lunatic and idiotic inmates are concerned, the condition of the workhouses which have separate wards expressly appropriated to the use of that class, is generally inferior to that of the smaller workhouses, and in some instances extremely unsatisfactory." dr. bucknill, whose excellent remarks on lunatic wards in their economical aspect we have already quoted, has very ably canvassed the question of their fitness as receptacles for the insane, and, in a paper in the 'asylum journal' (vol. iii. p. 497), thus treats on it:--"it is deserving of consideration, whether the introduction of liberally-conducted lunatic wards into a union workhouse would not interfere with the working of the latter in its legitimate scope and object. a workhouse is the test of destitution. to preserve its social utility, its economy must always be conducted on a parsimonious scale. no luxuries must be permitted within its sombre walls; even the comforts and conveniences of life must be maintained in it below the average of those attainable by the industry of the labouring poor. how can a liberally-conducted lunatic ward be engrafted upon such a system? it would leaven the whole lump with the taint of liberality, and the so-called pauper bastile would, in the eyes of the unthrifty and indolent poor, be deprived of the reputation which drives them from its portals." there is a general concurrence among all persons competent to form any opinion on the matter, that workhouses are most unfit places for the reception of recent cases of insanity. on the other hand, there is a prevalent belief that there is a certain class of the insane, considered "harmless," for whom such abodes are not unsuitable. the lunacy commissioners, in the extract from the eleventh report above quoted, partake in this opinion: let us therefore endeavour to ascertain, as precisely as we can, the class of patients intended, and the proportion they bear to the usual lunatic inmates of union workhouses. in their 'further report' for 1847, the commissioners enter into a particular examination of the characters of the lunatics found in workhouses, and class them under three heads (p. 257):--1st, those who, from birth, or from an early period of life, have exhibited a marked deficiency of intellect as compared with the ordinary measure of understanding among persons of the same age and station; 2ndly, those who are demented or fatuous; that is to say, those whose faculties, not originally defective, have been subsequently lost, or become greatly impaired through the effects of age, accident, or disease; and 3rdly, those who are deranged or disordered in mind, in other words, labouring under positive mental derangement, or, as it is popularly termed, "insanity." those in whom epilepsy or paralysis is complicated with unsoundness of mind, although their case requires a separate consideration, do not in strictness constitute a fourth class, but may properly be referred, according to the character of their malady and its effects upon their mental condition, to one or other of these three classes. further on in the report, after remarking on the difficulties besetting their inquiry, they write (p. 274):-"we believe, however, we are warranted in stating, as the result of our experience thus far, that of the entire number of lunatics in workhouses, whom we have computed at 6020 or thereabouts, two-thirds at the least, or upwards of 4000, would be properly placed in the first of the three classes in the foregoing arrangement; or, in other words, are persons in whom, as the mental unsoundness or deficiency is a congenital defect, the malady is not susceptible of cure, in the proper sense of the expression; and whose removal to a curative lunatic asylum, except as a means of relieving the workhouse from dangerous or offensive inmates, can be attended with little or no benefit. "a considerable portion of this numerous class, not less, perhaps, than a fourth of the whole, are subject to gusts of passion and violence, or are addicted to disgusting propensities, which render them unfit to remain in the workhouse; and it is the common practice, when accommodation can be procured, to effect the removal of such persons to a lunatic asylum, where their vicious propensities are kept under control, and where, if they cannot be corrected, they at least cease to be offensive or dangerous. but although persons of this description are seldom fit objects for a curative asylum, they are in general capable of being greatly improved, both intellectually and morally, by a judicious system of training and instruction; their dormant or imperfect faculties may be stimulated and developed; they may be gradually weaned from their disgusting propensities; habits of decency, subordination, and self-command may be inculcated, and their whole character as social beings may be essentially ameliorated." the conclusion to be deduced from these extracts is, that one-fourth or two-thirds, that is, one-sixth of the whole number of occupants in workhouses of unsound mind, found in 1846, were unfit for those receptacles, and demanded the provision of institutions in which a moral discipline could be carried out, and their whole condition, as social beings, ameliorated and elevated. a further examination of the data supplied in the same report will establish the conviction that, besides the proportion just arrived at, requiring removal to fitting asylums, there is another one equally large demanding the same provision. in this number are certainly to be placed all those of the third class "labouring under positive mental derangement," and who, although reported as "comparatively few" in 1846, have subsequently been largely multiplied, according to the evidence of the 'eleventh report' (_ante_, p. 56). those, again, "in whom epilepsy or paralysis is complicated with unsoundness of mind," are not suitable inmates for workhouse wards. no form of madness is more terrible than the furor attendant on epileptic fits; none more dangerous; and, even should the convulsive affection have so seriously damaged the nervous centres that no violence need be dreaded, yet the peril of the fits to the patient himself, and their painful features, render him an unfit inmate of any other than an establishment provided with proper appliances and proper attendants. as to the paralytic insane, none call for more commiseration, or more careful tending and nursing--conditions not commonly to be found in workhouses. the commissioners in lunacy have not omitted the consideration of workhouses as receptacles for epileptics and paralytics, and have arrived at the following conclusions:--after treating, in the first place, of epileptics whose fits are slight and infrequent, and the mental disturbance mild and of short duration, they observe that, as such persons "always require a certain amount of supervision, and as they are quite incompetent, when the fits are upon them, to take care of themselves, and generally become violent and dangerous, it would seem that the workhouse can seldom be a suitable place for their reception, and that their treatment and care would be more properly provided for in a chronic hospital especially appropriated to the purpose." concerning paralytics, they state that they are far less numerous than epileptics, and being for the most part helpless and bedridden, are treated as sick patients in the infirmary of the workhouse. their opinion is, however, that a chronic hospital would be a more appropriate receptacle for them,--a conclusion in which all must coincide, who know how much can be done to prolong and render more tolerable their frail and painful existence, by good diet and by assiduous and gentle nursing,--by such means, in short, as are not to be looked for in establishments where rigid economy must be enforced, and pauper life weighed against its cost. to turn now to the second class of workhouse lunatic inmates, the demented from age, accident, or disease: these, we do not hesitate to say, are not suitably accommodated in workhouses, for, like the paralytic, they require careful supervision, good diet and kind nursing; they are full-grown children, unable to help or protect themselves, to control their habits and tendencies; often feeble and tottering, irritable and foolish, and, without the protection and kindness of others, the helpless subjects of many ills. for such, the whole organization of the workhouse is unsuited; even the infirmary is not a fitting refuge; for, on the one hand, they are an annoyance to the other inmates, and, on the other, pauper nurses--whose office is often thrust upon them without regard to their fitness for it,--are not fitting guardians for them. in fine, where age, accident or disease has so deteriorated the mental faculties, we have a complication of physical and mental injury to disqualify the patient from partaking with his fellow-paupers in the common accommodation, diet, and nursing. in the reverse order which we have pursued, the first class of congenital, imbecile, and idiotic inmates comes to be considered last. this happens by the method of exclusion adopted in the argument; for the second and third classes have been set aside as proper inmates of some other institution than a workhouse, and it now remains to inquire, who among the representatives of the first class are not improperly detained in workhouses. this class includes, as already seen, some two-thirds of the whole number of inmates mentally disordered; and among whom, we presume, are to be found those individuals who may, in the commissioners' opinion, mix advantageously with the general residents of the establishment. the number of the last cannot, we believe, be otherwise than very small; for the very supposition that there is imbecility of mind, is a reason of greater or less force, according to circumstances, for not exposing them to the contact of an indiscriminate group of individuals, more especially of that sort to be generally found in workhouses. the evils of mingling the sane and insane in such establishments have already been insisted upon; and besides these, such imbecile patients as are under review, lack in workhouses those means of employment and diversion which modern philanthropy has suggested to ameliorate and elevate their physical and moral condition. lastly, if the remaining members of this class be considered, in whom the imbecility amounts to idiocy, the propriety of removing them from the workhouse will be questioned by few. indeed, will any one now-a-days advocate the "_laissez faire_" system in the case of idiots? experience has demonstrated that they are improveable, mentally, morally, and physically; and if so, it is the duty of a christian community to provide the means and opportunities for effecting such improvement. it cannot be contended that the workhouse furnishes them; on the contrary, it is thoroughly defective and objectionable by its character and arrangements, and, as the commissioners report, (_op. cit._ p. 259) a very unfit abode for idiots. on looking over the foregoing review of the several classes of lunatic inmates of workhouses distinguished by the commissioners in lunacy, the opinion to be collected clearly is, that only a very few partially imbecile individuals among them are admissible into workhouses, if their bodily health, their mental condition, their due supervision and their needful comforts and conveniences are to be duly attended to and provided for. in accordance with the views we entertain, as presently developed, of the advantages of instituting asylums for confirmed chronic, quiet, and imbecile patients, we should permit, if any at all, only such imbecile individuals as residents in workhouses, who could pass muster among the rest, without annoyance, prejudice or discomfort to themselves or others, and be employed in the routine occupations of the establishment. so much is heard among poor-law guardians and magistrates about a class of "harmless patients" suitably disposed of in workhouses and rightly removeable from asylums, that a few remarks are called for concerning them. to the eye of a casual visitor of an asylum, there does certainly appear a large number of patients, so quiet, so orderly, so useful and industrious, that, although there is something evidently wrong about their heads, yet the question crosses the mind, whether asylum detention is called for in their case. the doubt is not entertained by the experienced observer, for he knows well that the quiet, order, and industry observable are the results of a well-organized system of management and control; and that if this fails, the goodly results quickly vanish to be replaced by the bitter fruits generated by disordered minds. the "harmless" patient of the asylum ward becomes out of it a mischievous, disorderly, and probably dangerous lunatic. in fact, the tranquillity of many asylum inmates is subject to rude shocks and disturbances, even under the care and discipline of the institution; and the inoffensive-looking patient of to-day may, by his changed condition, be a source of anxiety, and a subject for all the special appliances it possesses, to-morrow. any asylum superintendent would be embarrassed to select a score of patients from several hundred under his care whom he could deliberately pronounce to be literally "harmless" if transferred to the workhouse. he might be well able to certify that for months or years they have gone on quietly and well under the surrounding influences and arrangements of the asylum, but he could not guarantee that this tranquillity should be undisturbed by the change to the wards of the workhouse; that untrained attendants and undesirable associates should not rekindle the latent tendency to injure and destroy; that defective organization and the absence of regular and regulated means of employment and recreation should not revive habits of idleness and disorder; or that a less ample dietary, less watchfulness and less attention to the physical health, should not aggravate the mental condition and engender those disgusting habits, which a good diet and assiduous watching are known to be the best expedients to remedy. dr. bucknill has some very cogent remarks on this subject in his last report of the devon asylum (p. 6). "the term 'harmless patients,' or in the words of the statute, those 'not dangerous to themselves or others' (he writes), i believe to be inapplicable to any insane person who is not helpless from bodily infirmity or total loss of mind: it can only with propriety be used as a relative term, meaning that the patient is not so dangerous as others are, or that he is not known to be refractory or suicidal. it should not be forgotten, that the great majority of homicides and suicides, committed by insane persons, have been committed by those who had previously been considered harmless; and this is readily explained by the fact, that those known to be dangerous or suicidal are usually guarded in such a manner as to prevent the indulgence of their propensities; whilst the so-called harmless lunatic or idiot has often been left without the care which all lunatics require, until some mental change has taken place, or some unusual source of irritation has been experienced, causing a sudden and lamentable event. in an asylum such patients may truly be described as not dangerous to themselves or others, because they are constantly seen by medical men experienced in observing the first symptoms of mental change or excitement, and in allaying them by appropriate remedies; they are also placed under the constant watchfulness and care of skilful attendants, and they are removed from many causes of irritation and annoyance to which they would be exposed if at large, in villages or union houses. "it not unfrequently happens that idiots who have lived for many years in union houses, and have always been considered harmless and docile, under the influence of some sudden excitement, commit a serious overt act, and are then sent to an asylum. one of the most placid and harmless patients in this asylum, who is habitually entrusted with working tools, is a criminal lunatic, of weak intellect, who committed a homicide on a boy, who teased him while he was breaking stones on the road. if this is the case with those suffering only from mental deficiency, it is evidently more likely to occur in those suffering from any form of mental disease, which is often liable to change its character, and to pass from the form of depression to one of excitement. for these reasons i am convinced that all lunatics, and many strong idiots, can only be considered as 'not dangerous to themselves or others,' when they are placed under that amount of superintendence and care which it has been found most desirable and economical to provide for them in centralized establishments for the purpose. "for the above reasons, i am unable to express the opinion that any insane patients who are not helpless from bodily infirmity or total loss of mind are _unconditionally_ harmless to themselves and others. i have, however, made out a list of sixty patients who are incurable, and who are likely, _under proper care_, to be harmless to themselves and others. "of the patients in this list who are lunatic, only nine have sufficient bodily strength to be engaged in industrial pursuits. the remaining twenty-three are so far incapacitated by the infirmities of old age, or by bodily disease, or by loss of mental power, that they are unable to be employed, and require careful nursing and frequent medical attendance. the patients who have sufficient bodily strength to be employed, are also with the least degree of certainty to be pronounced harmless to themselves and others. as the result of long training, they willingly and quietly discharge certain routine employments under proper watch; but it is probable, that if removed from their present position, any attempts made to employ them by persons unaccustomed to the peculiarities of the insane, will be the occasion of mental excitement and danger. "the twenty-eight idiots have, with few exceptions, been sent to the asylum from union houses, where it has been found undesirable to detain them, on account either of their violent conduct, or of their dirty habits, or some other peculiarity connected with their state of mental deficiency; habits of noise or indecency for instance." probably the following extract from the report of the committee of the surrey asylum (1856) may have more weight with some minds than any of the arguments and illustrations previously adduced, to prove that the detention of presumed "harmless patients" in workhouses will not answer. the declaration against the plan on the part of the surrey magistrates is the more important, because they put it into practice with the persuasion that it would work well. but to let them speak for themselves, they write,--"the committee adverted at considerable length in their last annual report to the circumstance of the asylum being frequently unequal to the requirements of the county, and of their intention to attempt to remedy the defect by discharging all those patients, who, being harmless and inoffensive, it was considered might be properly taken care of in their respective union houses. "the plan has been tried, and has not been successful. patients who, under the liberal and gentle treatment they experience in the asylum, are quiet and tractable, are not necessarily so under the stricter regulations of a workhouse; indeed, so far as the experiment has been tried, the reverse has been found to be the case; most of the patients so discharged having been shortly afterwards returned to the asylum, or placed in some other institution for the insane, in consequence of their having become, with the inmates of the workhouse, 'a mutual annoyance to each other.' any arrangement, short of an entire separation from the other inmates of the workhouse, will be found to be inefficient." this is the same as saying that if lunatics are to reside in workhouses, a special asylum must be instituted in the establishment for their care, and the comfort and safety of the other inmates. if the well-being of the insane were the only question to be settled, no difficulty would attend the solution, for experience has most clearly evidenced the vast advantages of asylums over workhouses as receptacles for insane patients, whatever the form or degree of their malady. dr. bucknill has some very forcible remarks in his paper on "the custody of the insane poor" (asylum journal, vol. iv. p. 460), with illustrative cases; and in his report last quoted, reverts to this subject of the relative advantages of asylums and workhouses; but we forbear to quote, if only from fear of being thought to enlarge unduly upon a question which has been decided long ago by the observation and experience of all those concerned in the management of the pauper insane; viz. that whatever the type and degree of mental disorder and of fatuity, its sufferers become improved in properly managed asylums, as intellectual, moral, and social beings upon removal from workhouses; and by a reverse transfer, are deteriorated in mind, and rendered more troublesome and more costly. to the workhouse the lunatic ward is an excrescence, and its inmates an annoyance: in its organization, there is an absence or deficiency of almost all those means conducive to remedy or remove the mental infirmity, and the very want of which contributes as much as positive neglect and maltreatment to render the patient's condition worse, by lowering his mental and moral character. but such deterioration or degradation is not an isolated evil, or the mere negation of a better state; for it acts as a positive energy in developing moral evil, and brings in its train perverseness, destructiveness, loss of natural decency in habits, conversation and conduct, and many other ills which render their subjects painfully humiliating as human beings, and a source of trouble, annoyance, and expense to all those concerned with them. in a previous page we have sought to determine what was the proportion of lunatic inmates found by the lunacy commissioners in workhouses considered to be not improperly detained in them, and have estimated it at one-half of the whole number. the foregoing examination, however, of the adaptation of workhouses for the several classes of lunatics distinguishable, leads to the conviction that a very much less proportion than one-half ought to be found in those establishments. for our own part, we would wish to see the proportion reduced by the exclusion of most of its component members, reckoned as "harmless" patients; a reduction which would well nigh make the proportion vanish altogether. what is to be done with the lunatics removed from workhouses, is a question to be presently investigated. but before proceeding further, some consideration of the legal bearings of workhouse detention of lunatics is wanting, for it has been advanced by some writers that such detention is illegal. now, in the first place, it must be admitted that a workhouse is not by law, nor in its intent and purpose, a place of imprisonment or detention. its inmates are free to discharge themselves, and to leave it at will when they no longer stand in need of its shelter and maintenance. whilst in it, they are subject to the general rules of workhouse-government, and to a superior authority, empowered, if not by statute, yet by orders of the poor-law board, or by bye-laws of the guardians, to exercise discipline by the enforcement of penalties involving a certain measure of punishment. temporary seclusion in a room may be countenanced, although not positively permitted by law; but prolonged confinement, the deprivation of liberty, and a persistent denial of free egress from the house, are proceedings opposed to the true principles of english law. yet it may be that a plea for their detention might be sustained in the case of sick or invalid patients (with whom the insane would be numbered) under certificate of the parochial medical officer, provided no friend came forward to guarantee their proper care, or that they could not show satisfactorily the means of obtaining it; for, of such cases, the workhouse authorities may be considered the rightful and responsible guardians, required in the absence of friends to undertake their charge and maintenance. upon such grounds, probably, cause might be shown for the detention of the greater part of workhouse lunatic inmates, although there is no act of parliament explicitly to sanction it. should such a plea be admitted, the notion, entertained by dr. bucknill, that an action would lie for false imprisonment against the master and guardians of the workhouse, would be found erroneous. the lunacy commissioners presented some remarks on this question, indicating a similar view to that just advanced in their 'further report,' 1847. for instance (p. 287, _op. cit._), they observed:-"how far a system of this kind, which virtually places in the hands of the masters, many of whom are ignorant, and some of whom maybe capricious and tyrannical, an almost absolute control over the personal liberty of so many of their fellow men, is either warranted by law, or can be wholesome in itself, are questions which seem open to considerable doubt. probably if the legality of the detention came to be contested before a judicial tribunal in any individual case, the same considerations of necessity or expediency which originally led to the practice, might be held to justify the particular act, provided it were shown that the party complaining of illegal detention could not be safely trusted at large, and that his detention, therefore, though compulsory, instead of being a grievance, was really for his benefit as well as that of the community." again, in the second place, the law, without direct legislation to that effect, yet admits,--by the provisions it makes for pauper lunatics not in asylums or licensed houses, and by the distinction it establishes between persons proper to be sent to an asylum, and lunatics generally so-called,--that insane patients may be detained elsewhere than in asylums. for instance, by _sect._ lxvi. 16 & 17 vict. cap. 97, 1853, provision is made for a quarterly visit by the union or parish medical officer to any pauper lunatic _not being_ in a workhouse, asylum, registered hospital, or licensed house, in order that he may ascertain how the lunatic is treated, and whether he "may or may not properly remain out of an asylum." so likewise by _sect._ lxiv. of the same act, the clerk or overseers are required to "make out and sign a true and faithful list of all lunatics chargeable to the union or parish in the form in schedule (d)." this form is tabular, and presents five columns, under the heading of "where maintained," of which three are intended for the registry of the numbers not confined in asylums, hospitals, and licensed houses, but who are (1) in workhouses, (2) in lodgings, or boarding out, or (3) residing with relatives. further, the law distinguishes, by implication, a class of lunatics as specially standing in need of asylum care, and as distinct from others. by the poor-law amendment act (4 & 5 will. iv. cap. 76. sect. 45), it is ordered that nothing in that act "shall authorize the detention in any workhouse of any dangerous lunatic, insane person, or idiot for any longer period than fourteen days; and every person wilfully detaining in any workhouse any such lunatic, insane person, or idiot for more than fourteen days, shall be deemed guilty of a misdemeanour." this section is still in force, is constantly acted upon by the poor-law board, and is legally so read as if the word 'dangerous' were repeated before the three divisions of mentally-disordered persons referred to, viz. lunatics, insane persons, and idiots. so, likewise, by _sect._ lxvii. (16 & 17 vict. cap. 97)--the "lunatic asylums' act, 1853," now in operation,--the transmission of an insane individual to an asylum is contingent on the declaration that he is "a lunatic and a _proper person to be sent to an asylum_." moreover, by _sect._ lxxix. of the same act, it is competent to any three visitors of an asylum, or to any two in conjunction with the medical officer of the asylum, to discharge on trial for a specified time "any person detained in such asylum, whether such person be recovered or not;" and by the following section (lxxx.) it is ordered, that, upon receipt of the notice of such discharge, "the overseers or relieving officers respectively shall cause such lunatic to be forthwith _removed to_ their parish, or to the _workhouse of the union_." by the 79th section it is further provided, that "in case any person so allowed to be absent on trial for any period do not return at the expiration of such period, and a medical certificate as to his state of mind, certifying that his detention in an asylum is no longer necessary, be not sent to the visitors, he may, at any time, within fourteen days after the expiration of such period, be retaken, as herein provided in the case of an escape." on the other hand, simple removal from an asylum is by the 77th section, curiously enough interdicted except to another asylum, a registered hospital, or a licensed house. this intent, too, of the section is not changed by the amendment, _sect._ viii. 18 & 19 vict. cap. 105. lastly, no other place than an asylum, registered hospital, or licensed house, is constituted lawful by _sect._ lxxii. for the reception of any person found lunatic and under "order by a justice or justices, or by a clergyman and overseer or relieving officer, to be dealt with as such." but this section has to be read in connexion with preceding ones, for instance, with _sect._ lvii., by which it is laid down that the justices or other legal authority must satisfy themselves not only that the individual is a lunatic, but also that he is "a proper person to be sent to an asylum." these quotations indicate the state of the law respecting the detention of lunatics elsewhere than in asylums. this state cannot be held to be satisfactory: it evidently allows the detention of lunatics in workhouses, while at the same time it affords them little protection against false imprisonment, and makes no arrangement for their due supervision and care, except by means of the visits of the lunacy commissioners, which are only made from time to time, not oftener than once a year, and rarely so often. the alleged lunatics are for the most part placed and kept in confinement without any legal document to sanction the proceeding; without a certificate of their mental alienation, and without an order from a magistrate. within the workhouse, they are, unless infirm or sick, treated like ordinary paupers, save in the deprivation of their liberty of exit; they may be mechanically restrained, or placed in close seclusion by the order of the master, who is likely enough to appreciate the sterner means of discipline and repression, but not the moral treatment as pursued in asylums; and, lastly, they live deprived of all those medical and general measures of amelioration and recovery as here before sketched. an extract from the 'further report' of the commissioners in lunacy will form a fitting appendix to the observations just made. it occurs at p. 287 (_op. cit._), and stands thus:-"it certainly appears to be a great anomaly, that while the law, in its anxiety to guard the liberty of the subject, insists that no persons who are insane--not even dangerous pauper lunatics--shall be placed or kept in confinement in a lunatic asylum without orders and medical certificates in a certain form, it should at the same time be permitted to the master of a workhouse forcibly to detain in the house, and thus to deprive of personal liberty, any inmate whom, upon his own sole judgment and responsibility, he may pronounce to be a person of unsound mind, and therefore unfit to be at large." it is unsatisfactory that the law recognizes the distinction between dangerous and other lunatics, designated as "harmless;" for we have pointed out that no such rigid separation can be made; that it is with very few exceptions impracticable to say with certainty what patients are harmless and what not, inasmuch as their state is chiefly determined by surrounding conditions, by the presence or absence of moral control and treatment. it is likewise to be regretted that so much is left to the discretion of relieving officers and overseers, in the determination of the lunatics "proper to be sent to an asylum;" for those parish functionaries nearly always display a proclivity, where relief is to be afforded, to any plan which at first sight promises to be the most cheap; and hence it is, as remarked in previous pages, they think to serve the rate-payers best by keeping, if practicable, the insane in workhouses. the expediency of asylum treatment for those who claim it, is surely not a question to be determined by such officers. yet the wording of the act (_sect._ lxvii.), that, if they have notice from the parish medical officer of any pauper who "is, or is deemed to be a lunatic, and a proper person to be sent to an asylum," or if they in any other manner gain knowledge of a pauper "who is, or is deemed to be a lunatic, and a proper person to be sent to an asylum, they shall within three days" give notice thereof to a magistrate,--seems to put the solution of the question pretty much in their hands. although when they receive a notice of a pauper lunatic from the union medical officer, they would appear by _sect._ lxx. to be bound to apprise a justice of the matter, yet, in the absence of such a notice, an equal power in determining on the case is lodged in their hands as in those of the medical officer, by the phrase "is, or is deemed to be a lunatic, and a proper person to be sent to an asylum;" for this clause respecting the fitness of the case, reads with the parts of the sentence as though it stood thus in full--'is a lunatic and a proper person to be sent to an asylum, or is deemed a lunatic and a proper person to be sent to an asylum;' and there is nothing in _sect._ lxx. to enforce, under these circumstances, a notice being sent to a justice. it is, indeed, evidently left to the discretion of the overseer or relieving officer to report a case of lunacy falling within his own knowledge to a justice, for he is empowered to assume the function of deciding whether it is or is not a proper one for an asylum. moreover, we cannot refrain from thinking that a parochial medical officer is not always sufficiently independent, as a paid _employé_, to certify to the propriety of asylum care so often as he might do, where the guardians or other directors of parish affairs are imbued with rigid notions of economy, and hold the asylum cost for paupers in righteous abhorrence. in fine, were this enactment for reporting pauper lunatics to county and borough justices, in order to obtain a legal sanction for their detention, sufficiently clear and rigidly enforced, there would not be so many lunatics in workhouses, and none of those very unfit ones animadverted upon by the commissioners in lunacy (see p. 25, and 11th rep. c. l. 1857). the first clause of _sect._ lxvii. is ambiguous; for though it is evidently intended primarily to make the union medical officer the vehicle of communicating the knowledge of the existence of pauper lunatics in his parish, yet it is neither made his business to inquire after such persons, nor when he knows of their existence, to visit and ascertain their condition. it is left open for him to act upon a report that such a pauper "is deemed to be a lunatic, and a proper person to be sent to an asylum," without seeing the individual; but generally he will officially hear first of such patients through the channel of the relieving officer, by receiving an order to visit them. indeed, the relieving officer is legally the first person to be informed of a pauper requiring medical or other relief; and, as we have seen, it is competent for him to decide on the question of asylum transmission or not for any case coming directly to his knowledge. hence, in the exercise of his wisdom, he may order the lunatic forthwith into the union-house, and call upon the medical officer there to visit him. the consignment of the lunatic to the workhouse being now an accomplished fact, it becomes a hazardous enterprise, and a gratuitous task on the part of the medical officer (for no remuneration is offered for his report), to give the relieving officer or overseer a written notice that the poor patient should rightly be sent to the asylum, when he knows that those parish authorities have made up their minds that it is not a proper case to be sent there. in fact, the law makes no demand of a notice from the medical officer of the union necessary where the knowledge of a lunatic pauper first reaches the relieving officer or overseer, or where the patient is already in the workhouse; and no report will be sought from him under such circumstances, unless the parochial authorities decide that they will not take charge of the case in the workhouse. the object of the 67th and five following sections is evidently to promote the discovery of pauper lunatics, and to ensure the early transmission of all those amenable to treatment to county asylums; but these advantages are not attained, the legal machinery being defective. to fulfil the intention, it should be made imperative on the part of the relatives or friends to make known the occurrence of a case of lunacy at its first appearance to a duly-appointed medical man, who should visit and register it, and, with the concurrence of a magistrate, order detention in a properly-constituted asylum. such a medical officer would have a district assigned to him; of his duties at large we shall have occasion hereafter to speak; to allude further to them in this place will cause us to diverge too widely from the subject under consideration. the 67th section of the "lunatic asylums' act," which has above been submitted to criticism, we find referred to in the lunacy commissioners' eleventh report, wherein it is spoken of as disregarded by parochial authorities; its ambiguity and the loophole to a contravention of its meaning being, however, unnoticed. the reference occurs in the following passage (_op. cit._ p. 16), which censures a practice we have already animadverted upon:-"and here we take occasion to remark, that if the law were more strictly carried out in one particular, the same temptation to a mistaken and ill-judged economy would not so frequently present itself to boards of guardians; nor could it so often occur to them as an advantage, that they should themselves manage their insane poor by the resources at their own disposal. a custom prevails, very generally, of sending all pauper lunatics to the workhouses in the first instance, instead of at once procuring an order for their transmission to an asylum; and nothing has more contributed to the many recent and acute cases improperly so detained. the practice, it is hardly necessary to say, is in direct contravention of the law applicable to insane paupers. assuming that they come ordinarily at first under the care of the district parish surgeon, he is bound to give notice (under the 67th section of the lunatic asylums' act) to the relieving officer, by whom communication is to be made to the magistrate, upon whose order they are to be conveyed to an asylum; but in effect these provisions are disregarded altogether. and thus it follows, that the patient, if found to be manageable in the workhouse, is permanently detained there; or even should he ultimately find his way to an asylum, it is not until so much valuable time has been lost that his chances of cure are infinitely lessened. for, although it is our invariable habit, on the occasion of visiting workhouses, to recommend the removal to asylums of all whom we consider as curable, or exposed to treatment unsuited to their state, we find nothing so difficult as the enforcement of such recommendations; and for the most part the report of the medical officer of the union, to the effect that the patient is 'harmless,' is suffered to outweigh any opinion we can offer." in this quotation, therefore, we have an official proof that the defective and ambiguous legislation above commented upon is practically not without its mischievous fruits to the well-being of the insane poor. to amend it, some such scheme as we have sketched is called for to secure the reporting of lunatics, their examination and registration, and the legal sanction to their detention for the purposes of their own safety and that of others, and of their treatment; and were it not that at the present moment asylum accommodation cannot be afforded to all the pauper lunatics of the kingdom, their confinement in workhouses ought to be at once rendered illegal. convinced as we are, that asylums for the insane could be erected, fitted, organized, and maintained at a cost which would leave no pecuniary advantage economically on the side of workhouses; and that, even were the primary expenditure of the latter considerably less, they would in the long run be more expensive on account of their unfitness for lunatic patients, whatever the type of their malady, the injuries they entail on the well-being of all, and the chronic insanity they produce and foster,--it is with much reluctance we are forced to endorse the statement made by the commissioners in lunacy, in their 11th report (p. 17), that workhouse "lunatic wards will have to be continued for some time longer," until, we may add, a more comprehensive, and withal a modified scheme be brought into operation, to cherish, to succour, and to cure those suffering under the double evil of poverty and insanity. though a remedy to meet the whole case must unfortunately be delayed, yet the lunacy commissioners nevertheless need continue energetically to discourage the plan of building special lunatic wards to workhouses, as one, according to their own showing, indeed, fraught with very many evils to their inmates. such erections ought, in fact, to be rendered illegal; the money spent on them would secure proper accommodation in connexion with a duly organized and managed asylum, as demonstrated in previous pages (p. 48), for all those classes of pauper lunatics, which, under any sort of plea or pretence, can be detained in workhouses. lastly, we must look to the commissioners to maintain an active supervision over workhouse inmates,--to hold, at least, an annual "jail delivery" of every union-house, to order the immediate transfer of evidently improper inmates, and to remove others, so to speak, for trial. the "leading principles," as laid down by the commissioners in 1847 (report, p. 269), and to which, in subsequent reports, they state their continued adhesion, are as good as the present state of lunacy and lunatic asylums permit to be enforced; but they can be enforced only by the commissioners themselves, or others possessing equal authority; for workhouse officials will interpret them through the medium of their own coloured vision; and if magistrates were entrusted with the task, we have no confidence that it would be efficiently performed by them as inexperienced, non-medical men, with whom economical considerations will hold the first place. the principles referred to are expressed in the following paragraph:-"we have invariably maintained that the permanent detention in a workhouse of any person of unsound mind, whether apparently dangerous or not, whose case is of recent origin, or otherwise presents any hope of cure through the timely application of judicious treatment, or who is noisy, violent, and unmanageable, or filthy and disgusting in his habits, and must therefore be a nuisance to the other inmates, is an act of cruelty and injustice, as well as of great impolicy; and we have on all occasions endeavoured, so far as our authority extends, to procure the speedy removal of persons of that description to a lunatic asylum." the following practical suggestions, calculated to improve the condition of the insane poor, are deducible from the foregoing remarks on workhouses considered as receptacles for lunatics. 1. the county asylums should afford aid to all insane persons unable to procure proper care and treatment in private asylums; and 2, such patients should be directly transmitted to them; the circumstance of their entire or partial liability to the poor-rates being, if necessary, subsequently investigated. 3. as a corollary to the last suggestion, the primary removal of patients to a workhouse should, save in very exceptional cases, such as of distance from the asylum and unmanageable violence at home, be rendered illegal; or, what is nearly tantamount to it, for the future no alleged lunatic should be suffered to become an inmate of a workhouse, except with the written authority of the district medical officer or inspector proposed to be appointed. 4. without the sanction of this officer, likewise, no lunatic should be permitted to be discharged or removed from a workhouse. this is necessary for the patient's protection, for securing him against confinement in any house or lodging under disadvantages to his moral and physical well-being, to check improper discharges, and to protect the asylum against the transfer to it of unfit cases, a circumstance which will presently be shown to be of frequent occurrence. 5. no person should be detained as a lunatic or idiot, or as a person of unsound mind in a workhouse, except under a similar order as that required in the case of asylum detention, and a medical certificate to the fact of his insanity. 6. if workhouses need be used, whether as temporary or as permanent receptacles for the insane, they should be directly sanctioned by law, placed under proper regulations, and under effective supervision, not only of the lunacy commissioners, but also of a committee of visitors, and of the district medical officer, whose duty it would be to watch over the welfare of the insane inmates, their treatment, diet, occupation, and amusement. the visitors should be other than guardians or overseers of the poor of the union or parish in which the workhouse is situated, although every union should be represented on the committee; and they might be selected from the magistrates, and from the respectable classes among the rate-payers. if the county were large, it might be advantageously divided into districts, a committee of visitors of workhouses being appointed in each district. 7. every workhouse containing lunatics should be licensed as a place of detention for them by the committee of visitors, who should have authority to revoke the license. this power of revoking the license should be also vested in the commissioners in lunacy. 8. every such workhouse, and the number of its insane inmates, should be reported to the lunacy commissioners. according to our scheme, the district medical officer would do this, as well as report generally to the lunacy board, the condition and circumstances both of the workhouse and of its insane inmates. 9. for the future, the erection or the appropriation of distinct lunatic wards to workhouses should be interdicted by law. by the preceding suggestions reforms are, indeed, proposed to render confinement in workhouses legal; to make it more satisfactory; to provide for effectual supervision, and in general to assimilate the wards of union-houses more closely to those of asylums. yet all this is done only on the ground of the necessity for some legislation on these matters, and more particularly under the pressing circumstances of the time. the present state of lunacy compels acquiescence in the lunacy commissioners' statement, that workhouse-wards must for some time longer be used for the detention of insane paupers; and this fact alone supplies an apology for making suggestions to improve them. moreover, apart from it, the workhouse will at times necessarily be the temporary refuge for some few cases, and may be occupied as a permanent dwelling by those rare instances of imbecility of mind which can be allowed to intermingle with the other inmates, and be usefully occupied; and for these reasons it need be rendered both a legal and not unsuitable abode. at the same time, it is most desirable that the lunacy commissioners should be able not only to discourage, but also to veto the construction of lunatic-wards for the future, on the grounds already so largely pointed out; and for this reason, moreover, that where such wards exist, they are thought good enough for their poor inmates, and are looked upon as asylums over which the county institution has little preference. the existence, therefore, of any specially erected or adapted ward, may always be urged against the proposition for further expenditure in providing for pauper lunatics elsewhere in suitable asylums;--a plea, which should consequently be set aside by overturning the foundation whereon it rests. since the preceding observations on the detention of pauper lunatics in workhouses were in print, a most important supplementary report on the subject has been put forth by the commissioners in lunacy (supplement to the twelfth report; ordered to be printed 15th of april, 1859). we have read this report with pleasure, so far as it confirms the views we have taken, but with surprise and pain at the details it unfolds of practices the most revolting to our better feelings, and, in general, of a state of things discreditable to a civilized and christian country. by being confirmatory of the opinions and statements advanced by us, it may be said to give an official sanction to them; and as it is one of the most important documents ever issued by the board, we shall attempt an analysis of its contents. in the first place, the commissioners resort to some recent corrected returns of the poor-law board, and discover that the number of pauper lunatics in workhouses was, on the 1st of january, 1858, 7555, _i. e._ upwards of 500 above that returned in the tenth report of the same board, and referred to in the foregoing pages; and on the 1st of july in that same year it amounted to 7666. they then proceed to describe the "character and forms of insanity most prevalent in workhouses," and show that their insane inmates all require protection and control; that "some, reduced to poverty by their disease, are of superior habits to those of ordinary paupers, and require better accommodation than a workhouse affords. many are weak in body, and require better diet. many require better nursing, better clothing, and better bedding; almost all (and particularly those who are excitable) require more healthful exercise, and, with rare exceptions, all require more tender care and more vigilant superintendence than is given to them in any workhouse whatsoever." on turning to the "design and construction of union buildings," they rightly point out that the stringent conditions to ensure economy, and to check imposition and abuse, the "reduced diet, task labour, confinement within the narrow limits of the workhouse premises," the plan of separating the inmates into classes, the scanty means of out-door exercise, &c., are inimical to the well-being of the insane residents. in the "modes of workhouse direction and administration" there is great unfitness. the rules under which the officers act "are mainly devised to check disorderly conduct in ordinary paupers; and it is needless to say with how much impropriety they are extended to the insane. any increase of excitement, or outbreak of violence, occurring in the cases of such patients, instead of being regarded as a manifestation of diseased action requiring medical or soothing treatment, has subjected the individual to punishment, and in several instances led to his imprisonment in a jail. in addition to these hardships, the lunatic patient is for the most part precluded from leaving the workhouse at his own will. in effect he becomes a prisoner there for life, incapable of asserting his rights, often of signifying his wants, yet amenable to as much punishment as if he were perfectly sane, and a willing offender against the laws or regulations of the place. nor, as will hereafter be seen, is his lot much bettered in the particular cases where it is found convenient to the authorities to relax those restrictions, and give him the power at will to discharge himself." rural workhouses of small size are generally preferable abodes for the insane than those of larger dimensions, since their "arrangements have a more homely and domestic character, and there are more means of occupation and of free exercise in the open air;" and where their imbecile inmates can be associated with the ordinary paupers, and regularly employed, their condition is not unfavourable; "but these form only the exceptions." workhouses in the metropolis and in large towns generally, are for the most part "of great size, old, badly constructed, and placed in the midst of dense populations. the weak-minded and insane inmates are here generally crowded into rooms of insufficient size, sometimes in an attic or basement, which are nevertheless made to serve both for day and sleeping accommodation. they have no opportunity of taking exercise; and, from the want of space and means of separation, are sometimes associated with the worst characters, are subjected unnecessarily to seclusion and mechanical restraint, and are deprived of many of the requisites essential to their well-being." "of the 655 workhouses in england and wales, somewhat more than a tenth part are provided with separate lunatic and idiot wards." the "objections to intermixture of inmates" are briefly stated. "there is no mode of complying with suggestions for" the peculiar benefit of insane inmates, "without disturbing the general economy of the house,--a fact which shows how important it is that no lunatic or idiot should be retained for whom any special arrangements are necessary." separate lunatic wards are declared to be more objectionable than the intermixture of the pauper inmates. only occasionally are such wards found at all tolerable; and even then, the constant medical supervision, proper attendants and nursing, sufficient diet, exercise, occupation, and other needful provisions, are deficient. the majority are thus sketched:--"in some of the wards attached to the old workhouses the rooms are crowded, the ventilation imperfect, the yards small and surrounded by high walls; and in the majority of instances the bed-rooms are used also as day-rooms. in these rooms the patients are indiscriminately mixed together; and there is no opportunity for classification. there is no separation where the association is injurious; and no association where such would be beneficial. in fact, patients of all varieties of character,--the weak, the infirm, the quiet, the agitated, the violent and vociferous, the dirty and epileptic,--are all mingled together, and the excitement or noise of one or more injures and disturbs the others. the restless are often confined to bed to prevent annoyance to the other patients, and the infirm are thus disposed of for the want of suitable seats. their condition when visited in the daytime is obviously bad, and at night must be infinitely worse. even in workhouses where the wards are so constructed as to provide day-rooms, these are often gloomy, much too small in size, and destitute of ordinary comforts; while the furniture is so poor and insufficient, that in some instances, there being no tables whatever, the patients are compelled to take their meals upon their knees. other cases to be hereafter mentioned will indeed show that it is reserved for lunatic wards of this description, and now happily for them only, to continue to exhibit some portion of that disregard of humanity and decency, which at one time was a prevailing characteristic in the treatment of insanity." not only, again, are there no sufficiently responsible authorities in the house, and no qualified responsible attendants, but also no records of restraint, of seclusion, of accident, or injury, or of medical or other treatment. "above all, there is no efficient and authoritative official visitation. the visiting justices never inspect the lunatic wards in workhouses, and our own visits are almost useless, except as enabling us to detect the evil that exists at the time of our visit, and which, after all, we have no power to remove." the "results of neglect in deteriorating the condition of patients" of all classes are ably portrayed. in the absence of attentive and experienced persons to watch and to supply their wants, many of the insane suffer unheeded and without complaint, to the prejudice of their mental and bodily state; or become inattentive to natural wants, and prone to violence and mischief. "in a very recent case of semi-starvation at the bath union, when the frauds and thefts of some of the attendants had, for a considerable time, systematically deprived the patients of a full half of their ordinary allowance of food, the only complaint made was by the wan and wasted looks of the inmates." in the two next sections the commissioners insist that the duty of distinguishing the cases in workhouses to be classified as "lunatics, insane persons and idiots," should be performed by the medical man independently of the master; and that, without examination and sanction from that officer, no person of weak mind should be discharged, or allowed to discharge himself. very ample cause for this latter proposition is shown in the illustrations appended, particularly in the case of imbecile females, who not unfrequently become, when at large, the prey to the vicious, further burden the parish by their illegitimate offspring, and often by an idiotic race. "the diet necessary for the insane" is required to be more liberal than for other inmates; yet the commissioners have "in very numerous instances" animadverted upon its inadequacy, both in quantity and quality, but without result, except "in very few instances:" for, notwithstanding that "the medical officer of a union has full power" (by the consolidated order 207, art. no. 4) "to give directions, and make suggestions as to the diet, classification and treatment of the sick paupers, and paupers of unsound mind," yet, we are sorry to learn, that "the power thus given, although backed by our constant recommendations, is rarely exercised by the medical officer." this circumstance is so far confirmatory of a view we have above taken, that the medical officer of a parish or union is neither sufficiently independent, as the paid _employé_ of the guardians, to carry out measures that may be necessary for the alleviation of the condition of lunatics in workhouses, where such means involve increased cost (we regret to entertain the notion); nor always sufficiently acquainted with the wants of the insane. considering the disadvantages of workhouses as receptacles for them, the general statement follows naturally, that as a class of workhouse inmates, the lunatics "are manifestly lower in health and condition than the same class in asylums. hence," add the commissioners, "the patients' bodily health and mental state decline upon removal from asylums to workhouses--an effect chiefly due to the inferior diet." there are great "variations in workhouse dietaries,"--from one spare meat dinner in the week to a meat dinner daily. this latter provision is furnished "in a very small number of houses." these dietaries are indeed much inferior to those considered necessary for criminals in jails; a fact that affords a sad comment on english consistency, which is thus found dealing with more favour and consideration towards those who have transgressed the laws of their country, than to those whose only crime is poverty, or poverty complicated with disease or infirmity. medical treatment would, in truth, seem to be not legally provided at all for lunatics in workhouses: no clause makes a visit of the union medical officer to the lunatic-ward of a workhouse imperative. as examples of the slight esteem in which medical supervision is held, the leicester and the winchcombe houses are quoted. in the former, the visits of the medical officer were only made quarterly; in the latter, by stipulation three times a week, but in practice very irregularly. attendance and nursing are, as might be expected, on a par with medical treatment. even imbeciles have been found exercising the functions of nurses, and, generally speaking, the selection of attendants is made from old and feeble people, having no experience, no aptness for the duties, no particular qualities of intellect or temper to recommend them, and receiving such a mere pretence, if any at all, in the way of remuneration for their trouble, that no painstaking efforts can be looked for from them. "yet to such individuals, strait waistcoats, straps, shackles, and other means of restraining the person are not unfrequently entrusted; and they are, moreover, possessed of the power of thwarting and punishing at all times, for any acts of annoyance or irregular conduct, which, although arising from disease, are nevertheless often sufficient to provoke punishment from an impatient and irresponsible nurse." the interior accommodation, fittings, and furniture are, if not abominably bad, excessively defective: and on reaching this part of the report, where the details of internal fittings and management come under review, the impression derivable from its perusal is akin to that gathered from the revelations of madhouses made by the parliamentary committees of 1814 and 1815. the sketch of the evils suffered by lunatics in workhouses, which we have ourselves attempted in past pages, tells a flattering tale compared with the realities unfolded to us by the commissioners, and adds a tenfold force to the arguments against the detention of lunatics in such places. to continue the practice would be to perpetuate a blot upon the internal polity, the philanthropy and the christianity of the country. let those who would know the whole case refer to the report in question; it is sufficient for our purpose to attempt a mere outline of its revelations. patients are frequently kept in bed because there are no suitable seats for them; a tub at times answers the double purpose of a urinal and a wash-basin; a privy is partitioned off in a small dormitory; baths are almost unknown; a trough or sink common to all supplies the want of basins for washing, and an outhouse or the open air furnishes the appropriate place for personal ablutions. clothing, again, is often ragged and insufficient; in an unwarmed dormitory, a single blanket, or only a coverlet, is all the covering afforded by night; loose straw in a trough bedstead usually constitutes the bed for wet and dirty patients to nestle in; and whether the bed be straw or not, the practice of using it night after night, when "filthy with dirt, and often rotting from frequent wetting, has been many times animadverted upon." in some workhouses two male patients are constantly placed in the same bed; nor is the character of the bedfellows much heeded; for a sane and insane, two idiots, one clean and one dirty, and even two dirty inmates, have been found associated together in the same bed, occasionally in a state of complete nudity. further, the want of exercise and employment, the absence of supervision and control, and the entrusting of means of coercion to irresponsible and unfit attendants, lead to the most shocking abuse of restraint, and to cruel seclusion. "the requirement occasionally made by the visiting commissioner, that the master shall make a written record of such proceedings, is utterly neglected. the dark, strong cells, constructed for the solitary confinement of refractory paupers, are used for the punishment of the insane, merely to prevent trouble; quiet helpless creatures, from whom no violence could be apprehended, are kept in bed during the daytime, or coerced; and even the dead-house has been made to serve the purpose of a seclusion-room." "the examples of restraint practised," as adduced in the report, recall to mind all those barbarities which civilized men of the present day are in the habit of congratulating themselves as matters of the past, and the subject of history. the catalogue of appliances for restraint reappears once more on the scene; and we read of straps, leather muffs, leg-locks, hobbles, chains and staples, strait-jackets, and other necessary paraphernalia, as of yore, worn for days, or weeks, or months. excellent matter, indeed, in all this, to garnish a discourse on the advancement of civilization, on the prevalence of improved notions respecting the treatment of the insane, or on some similar topic addressed to the vanity of the present generation! but the chapter does not end here. "it would be difficult to select places so entirely unfit for the purpose of exercise, or so prejudicial to the mental or bodily state of the person confined," as the yards or spaces set apart for it; and yet "of all the miseries undergone by this afflicted class, under the manifold disadvantages before described, and of all the various sources of irritation and discomfort to which we have shown that they are exposed, there is probably none which has a worse effect than the exclusion from all possibility of healthy movement. nothing more powerfully operates to promote tranquillity than the habit of extensive exercise; and in its absence, the patients often become excited, and commit acts of violence more or less grave, exposing them at once to restraint or seclusion, and not unfrequently to punishment. in not a few instances the outbreak has been looked upon as an offence or breach of discipline, and as the act of a responsible person; and the patient has been taken before a magistrate and committed to prison. "a very grave injustice, it is hardly necessary to add, is thus committed, in punishing by imprisonment individuals who are recognized and officially returned as being of unsound mind. these persons in no respect differ from the class of the insane usually met with in asylums, and are equally entitled to the same protection, and the same exemption from punishment. instead of such protection, however, the patient is exposed to double injury:--first, he is subjected to various sources of irritation while confined in the workhouse, directly occasioning excitement; and, secondly, the mental disturbance resulting therefrom is regarded as a crime, and is punished by imprisonment." the commissioners in lunacy next direct attention to the principal cause of the evils described, which they discover in the neglect and evasion of the duties imposed by the law on the officers of parishes and unions, in the interests of the pauper insane. thus, as remarked in previous pages,--"instead of causing the patient to be dealt with as directed by the 67th and 68th sections of the lunatic asylums' act, 1853, and immediate steps to be taken for his direct removal to the asylum, workhouses have been to a great extent made use of primarily as places for the reception, and (in many instances) for the detention of recent cases of insanity. "the workhouse is thus illegally made to supply the place of a lunatic establishment, and the asylum, with its attendant comforts and means of cure, which the law has provided for the insane poor, is altogether disregarded; or it comes into operation only when the patient, by long neglect, has become almost hopelessly incurable. we should remark that this occurs most frequently in the larger workhouses, and in those having insane wards." ... "how totally unfit even workhouses having insane wards are for the proper treatment of recent curable cases, we have endeavoured to exhibit in some detail. nevertheless, the practice of making use of them for all classes of insane patients is rapidly increasing, and our efforts to check it have proved hitherto quite ineffectual." after further adverting to the influence of the neglect of the laws in increasing pauper lunacy, they very briefly discuss the comparative cost of lunatics in workhouses and in asylums, but their examination adds nothing to what we have much more fully put forward on this subject. their "conclusion" contains some valuable suggestions, more or less identical with those we have ourselves independently advanced, and which may be briefly summed up as follows:-"to remedy many of the evils adverted to would, in our opinion, be impracticable, so long as insane patients are detained in workhouses, whether mixed with other inmates or placed in distinct wards. "the construction and management of workhouses present insurmountable obstacles to the proper treatment of the disease of insanity; and therefore the removal of the majority of the patients, and the adoption of stringent measures to prevent the admission of others, have become absolutely necessary." the notions of parish authorities of the very great comparative economy of workhouses over asylums rest, say the commissioners, on a false basis; and to place the question fairly before them, "it is essential that the mode of keeping the accounts should be assimilated in each, and that in the asylum only food and clothing should be charged to the parishes, and all other expenses to the county. in such case, we believe it would be found that the charges in each would be brought so nearly to a level, that there would exist little or no inducement on the plea of economy to tempt the guardians to keep their insane patients in workhouses, instead of sending them at once to a county asylum." to provide proper accommodation for the insane poor in workhouses, inasmuch as many asylums are on "so large a scale as not to admit of the necessary extension, whilst some are of a size much beyond that which is compatible with their efficient working," the commissioners propose "the erection of inexpensive buildings, adapted for the residence of idiotic, chronic, and harmless patients, in direct connexion with, or at a convenient distance from, the existing institutions. these auxiliary asylums, which should be under the management of the present visiting justices, would be intermediate between union workhouses and the principal curative asylums. the cost of building need not, in general, much exceed one-half of that incurred in the erection of ordinary asylums; and the establishment of officers and attendants would be upon a smaller and more economical scale than those required in the principal asylums." "whether or not such additional institutions as we recommend be provided, we think it essential that visiting justices of asylums should be invested with full power, by themselves or their medical officers, to visit workhouses, and to order the removal of insane inmates therefrom to asylums at their discretion. they should also be empowered, upon the report of the commissioners, to order the removal into the asylum of pauper patients boarded with strangers." "and in the event of our obtaining your lordship's approval of such suggestions for legislative enactment, we would further recommend that it should include the following provisions:-"no lunatic, or alleged lunatic, to be received into or detained in a workhouse, unless he shall have been duly taken before a justice or officiating clergyman, and adjudged by him as not proper to be sent to an asylum. "in any case, however, wherein an order for a lunatic's reception into an asylum shall be made by a justice or officiating clergyman, it shall be competent to him, if, for special reasons to be set forth in his order, he shall deem it expedient, to direct that such lunatic be taken, _pro tempore_, to the workhouse, and there detained for such limited period, not exceeding two clear days, as may be necessary, pending arrangements for his removal to the asylum. "a list of all inmates of unsound mind to be kept by the medical officer of a workhouse, and left accessible to the visiting commissioners. "the medical officer to specify, in such list, the forms of mental disorder, and to indicate the patients whom he may deem curable, or otherwise likely to benefit by, or in other respects proper for, removal to an asylum. "the visiting commissioner, and the poor-law inspector, to be empowered to order and direct the relieving officer to take any insane inmate before a justice, under the provisions of the 67th section of the lunatic asylums' act, 1853. "in all cases of inmates of unsound mind temporarily detained in workhouses, the medical officer to be invested with full powers as respects classification, diet, employment, and medical and moral treatment, and otherwise." of some of these suggestions we shall take a future opportunity to speak, and at present pass from the consideration of the state and wants of lunatics in workhouses to notice, briefly, the condition of those living with their friends or elsewhere. § _pauper lunatics living with their relatives or with strangers._ in the previous chapter "on the state of the present provision for the insane," some remarks have been made on the class of lunatic poor living with their relatives or strangers, calculated to arrest attention to their numbers and their neglected position. the commissioners in lunacy have as a rule, and in the absence of particular information, calculated that they are about equal in number to those resident in workhouses. considering the imperfect nature of the statistical records of them, and the fact that they escape official observation and inquiry to a much greater extent than even the lunatic inmates of workhouses, we have assumed them to be more numerous, and that there are 8000 so distributed in the homes of our industrial classes. of these 8000, more or less, poor persons, dependent, on account of distinct imbecility or idiocy, upon others for protection and support, no one outside their abodes, it may be generally said, thoroughly knows their condition, although a partial knowledge may be possessed by the parochial authorities of the union or parish to which they are chargeable. to these authorities, however, they possess no interest; they are regarded as burdens upon the public purse, to be arranged for on the cheapest terms. the only person at all responsible for their condition is the parish medical officer, who is required by sect. 66 (16 & 17 vic. cap. 97) to visit them quarterly, and to certify "whether such lunatics are or are not properly taken care of, and may or may not remain out of an asylum." in the first place, the matter of deciding what pauper reported as insane, imbecile, or idiotic is actually so, is not by law given to any parochial officer; hence it frequently happens that differences of opinion and divisions arise between the medical officer on the one hand, and the poor-law guardians on the other, as to the chargeability of this and that pauper to the parish as insane; and the decision acquires intensified importance from the fact that one half-crown per quarter is at stake on each pauper chattle in dispute; for if the medical man gain the day, just that sum has to be squeezed out of the rate-payers to compensate him for his quarterly call upon the admitted lunatic. we leave the reader to imagine the battlings of the vestrymen on the knotty point; sane or not insane, that is the question, the solution of which must cause the consumption of much time and breath yearly to many an honourable board of guardians, to animated discussions, bold definitions and fine-drawn distinctions, lost to the _profanum vulgus_ enjoying no seat in the conclave. here, then, appears a duty which, in our opinion, should be performed by a duly appointed officer, such as a district medical inspector or examiner; for we would deprive the guardians of the poor of all voice in deciding on the sanity or insanity of any individual. the law might with equal or with greater propriety leave the decision of the success or non-success of the operation of vaccination to a vestry, as that of the question under remark. further, since many might argue, that to leave the determination of the question to an officer like the parish medical man, directly interested in settling it in one way, and who might saddle the parish with an annual charge for every poor person in it who did not come up to his standard of mental strength, would be unfair to the rate-payers; an independent opinion, given by an officer in no way interested in the decision of the point at issue, would seem to afford the very best means of settling the point, and a sufficient guarantee against any supposable irregularities. we would suggest, therefore, that the district inspector should visit every poor person wholly or partially chargeable, or proposed to be made chargeable to any parish, as being of unsound mind, and make a return to the parochial authorities and to the poor-law board, and that the certificate of this officer should be held to be a sufficient proof of the insanity of the individual. but the duties of this officer, in relation to the lunatic poor under consideration, would not stop here. in his visit we would require him to investigate more narrowly than a union medical officer can be expected to do at the remuneration offered, and amid his many other arduous engagements,--into the condition and the circumstances by which the poor patient is surrounded, to report thereon to the lunacy board and to the proper union officials, and in general to state, in the words of the act, whether he is or is not properly taken care of, and is or is not a fit subject for asylum care. the officer we propose, would approach the inquiry independently of the parish authorities, and indifferent to their censure, having no position and no pay to lose by his decision; whilst as an experienced physician, understanding the varying features of mental disorder, and the conditions necessary to its amelioration or cure, his opinions would claim greater respect. inasmuch as it is impossible, owing to their small number, for the lunacy commissioners, without totally neglecting their other duties, to make themselves acquainted with the condition of these pauper lunatics, scattered here and there over the country, in cottages and lodgings, we really possess, as before said, under the existing system, no information worth having, what that condition really is. judging from the state in which workhouse lunatic inmates are found, the impression is unavoidable, that the pauper lunatics under notice must be in a worse one, since there is not only no sort of supervision over them equivalent to that provided in workhouses, but also the sums allowed towards their maintenance are most scanty, and, where they are lodged with strangers, no care and no sustenance beyond what is felt to be actually paid for, can be presumed to be given. now and then a glimpse of the actual state of things is casually afforded by the report of a county asylum; and such are the glimpses we have got through this medium, that, except to arouse public attention by their recital, in order to bring about a reform, it were well, for the sake of the reputation of the country, that the revelations were unrecorded. asylum superintendents could, indeed, more frequently raise the veil upon scenes of wretchedness and cruelty undergone by our lunatic poor in the habitations where parish officials place or keep them; but they generally forbear to do so in their reports, although enough is shown by the description of the state in which patients are admitted into the asylums, and of the length of time that has been suffered to elapse since the commencement of their sad malady. dr. hitchman, in the reports of the derby county asylum, has more than once referred to the state of patients on admission from their homes or lodgings. thus, in 1853, he narrates the case of a poor woman who had been demented for five years, and "kept at home until she fell into the fire and became extensively and severely burnt;" and not till after this accident was she taken to the asylum. a little way further on, in the same report, he observes,--"those only who have lived in public asylums know the misery, the wretchedness, and the wrong which are constantly inflicted upon lunatics in obscure places, even by their relatives and 'friends,' and which cease only with the life of the patient, unless he be conveyed to a well-conducted institution. it is, moreover, a remarkable phenomenon, that many individuals who perpetrate these enormities upon their kith and kin, who have habitually fastened them with cords, who have deprived them of a proper supply of clothing or of food, who have, in short, rendered them permanent cripples in body, as well as hopeless idiots in mind, have done so without malice, as a general rule, without passion, by slow degrees, and with no conception whatever of the present suffering or ultimate mischief effected by their proceedings. they affect no secrecy among their neighbours while these things are going on. familiarity to the spectacle blinds their perceptions and blunts their feelings.... others there are, who, from penurious and selfish motives, inflict much wrong upon the lunatic. of such a kind appears the following:--'t. g., removed from the custody of his relatives by the order of the magistrates. has been insane thirty-eight years, under the management of his relatives, who have generally had him confined in an out-building.' 'he is stated to have been unclothed for many years. when brought into the asylum he was naked, except that around his pelvis were the remains of an article of dress; his hands were tightly bound to each other by ligatures passing around the wrists. when in the cart he was covered with a blanket, but this fell from him during his struggles on being removed. he roared hideously as he was being conveyed to the wards. he is a person of lofty stature and great size. his head and neck are very large; one side of his forehead is greatly disfigured by scars, and he has lost an eye. his ears have been deprived of their normal shape, and their lobes much thickened by the deposition of fibrine or other matter. his lips are large and pouting. his beard has been long unshaven, but has been recently cut with a pair of scissors. the bones and muscles of his arms are of great size; his lower extremities are red, swollen, and 'pit,' under pressure; one of his toes is deprived of its nail, and the whole foot appears to have suffered from the effects of cold. he walks with a stooping gait, and appears unable to retain the erect posture without support. he resists powerfully all attempts to clothe him, and appears to be entirely ignorant of the use of a bedstead. he whines after the manner of a dog that has lost its home. he dreads all who approach him; on being taken from his room in the evening, he hurried back to it with all the haste he could, and on all occasions he shrinks from observation. he is lost to every sense of decency; nakedness is congenial to him, but he will sometimes coil himself in a blanket for the sake of its warmth. he is guided by the lowest instincts only, and his whole appearance and manner, his fears, his whines, his peculiar skulking from observation, his bent gait, his straight hair, large lips, and gigantic fore-arm painfully remind one of the more sluggish of the anthropoid apes, and tell but too plainly to what sad depths the human being can sink under the combined influence of neglect and disease.'" the same excellent physician reverts to these cases in his fourth report (1855), and laments the sad condition of health, and the horrible state of neglect of many patients on their admission. he says, "one or two patients had been confined by manacles in their own cottages until rescued by charitable interference, and were brought to the asylum with their wrists and ankles excoriated by the ligatures deemed necessary for their proper control." one such case had been confined twenty-five years in his cottage-home. these illustrations will suffice for our purpose. they indicate the existence of abuses and wrongs here in england, too similar, alas! to those the special lunacy commission of scotland brought to light by their well-known inquiry in 1855 (report, edinburgh, 1857), and such as the general description in their report, and the particulars in appendix k, too amply demonstrate. it is referred to as "the wretched state" of single patients living with their friends or others, and well merits the designation. they found these poor afflicted beings generally in a state of moral and physical degradation, ill-fed, ill-treated, ill-clothed, miserably lodged, shockingly dirty, abused, restrained by all sorts of mechanical contrivances of the coarser kind, or left to wander unheeded and uncared for; whilst among the imbecile or fatuous women, many were the instances where they had become the mothers of an illegitimate and often idiotic offspring. judging from the specimens before us, we repeat, we have great misgivings lest a similar searching inquiry into the condition of pauper lunatics in england distributed in the homes of our cottagers and labouring classes, should reveal a state of things no less disgraceful to a civilized country. to recall a conviction before expressed, additional legislative provision is demanded for this class of pauper insane. the quarterly visit of the hard-worked and underpaid union medical officer or of his assistant, affords no sufficient guarantee, even when regularly made, that they are duly taken care of, and not improperly deprived of the advantages of asylum treatment. but if we accept official statements, these visits are irregularly made and much neglected, and the reports of them far from properly attended to. in the report of the hants asylum for 1856, the committee took occasion to remark on the extended neglect and the inefficiency of these legal visits and reports; and though the commissioners in lunacy admit that of late matters have improved, yet they say that they are far from satisfactory. from these and other considerations adverted to, we have suggested that the inspection of the lunatic poor in question should be specially undertaken by the district medical officer, and that a report on them should after each visit be made to the lunacy commission, and, with advantage, also to the poor-law board. this officer should be informed of every pauper or other lunatic living with friends or others, and should investigate, as said above, all the circumstances surrounding him, and decide whether or not a transference to an asylum would be for the better. it would consequently be for him to select and recommend the removal to an asylum of all such patients as afforded a prospect of recovery; and since good food and proper nursing improve not only the body, but also the mind and the moral feelings, and promote the lasting relief of the mental disorder,--it should also devolve upon him to signify the extent and mode of out-door relief to be afforded. defective and faulty nutrition concurs powerfully to produce insanity, and, when it is induced, to make it permanent; the best policy must therefore be to nourish pauper lunatics sufficiently;--a policy, which we see, however, under existing circumstances, no prospect of being acted upon by the guardians of the poor. the allowance made to out-door lunatic paupers differs much; for it may be intended to supply almost all the moderate wants of the recipient, or only a small part of them. it is always, however, very limited, and less than the calculated cost of in-door paupers per head, and can never suffice to procure the poor patient adequate nourishment and suitable attendance and clothing. its amount, moreover, is regulated by no definite principles, but is left very much to the caprice of the relieving officers, and to the liberal or the opposite sentiments in the ascendant among the parochial guardians. it is contributed as a grant in aid to the relatives of the patient, and to those not related as a compensation for the outlay and trouble incurred on his account. the former are naturally liable to the maintenance of their lunatic kinsman, and no sufficient objection obtains to his being detained among them, provided his condition is not prejudiced by his exclusion from an asylum, and is duly watched over by competent medical officers, and that those relatives are able to afford him proper control, food and clothing, with or without parochial assistance. but the case is different in respect of those not related to the patient, who as strangers can have little interest in him; but who, on the contrary, have to make his detention serve their own purposes so far as possible, and cannot be expected to do or supply more than they are paid for. now, as the weekly allowance from the parish is to be by rule kept as low as it can be, the lowest offers possess the highest recommendation for acceptance, and the comforts and well-being of the poor imbecile or idiotic people are almost necessarily sacrificed at the shrine of economy. the whole system, therefore, of boarding pauper lunatics in the homes of the poor unconnected with them by blood, as now pursued without restrictions or method, appears fraught with injury to those helpless beings. what sort of attention, food, and lodging can be expected for some 3 or 4 shillings a week? what sort of supervision and control can be looked for from a poor, illiterate labourer or artisan? even a patient's own relatives may and do grudge the cost and the trouble he puts them to, or they may be very imperfectly able to furnish in their cottage-home the means needed to ensure his protection and the conveniences and comforts of others, and be ill-adapted by character and education to act as his directors and guardians. but these difficulties and defects are augmented manifold when the patient becomes a dweller among strangers. only under very peculiar circumstances indeed would we tolerate the boarding of pauper lunatics with strangers; when, for instance, their comforts and safety are hedged round by legal provisions sufficiently ample, and by systematized arrangements to secure them. these ends are to be attained by taking the selection of the abode and the pecuniary details from the hands of parochial officers, and by entrusting them to some competent medical man, who should be responsible that the patients are properly cared for and treated. it should be for him to select the residence, and in so doing to seek out those who by character and condition are best fitted for the charge. if the law were so amended that asylum relief should be afforded to all on the appearance of their malady, the majority of those to be provided for in lodgings would come from the class of chronic, imbecile patients, accounted harmless, whose discharge from the asylum under proper surveillance might be recommended. hence it would render the scheme more perfect and satisfactory, to retain these chronic lunatics in homes within a moderate distance of the county asylum they were previously placed in, so that they might be under the supervision of the medical staff of that institution, and that the propriety of their prolonged absence from it, or of their return to it, might be therefore determinable by those best qualified to judge from past experience of their case. yet, in all probability, this restriction as to the district for receiving patients as boarders, would not always be practicable; and frequently, where the insane poor had near relatives capable and willing to receive them under their care, though at a distance from the asylum, it would not be desirable to sacrifice the advantages of the guardianship of friends to those obtainable by vicinity to the asylum; and, from these or other causes, many poor insane people would be found distributed here and there throughout a county under the charge of cottagers and others. in their cases we would make the district medical inspector the special protector and guardian of their interests and well-being provided by law, and require him to visit them at least twice a quarter, report on their condition, and on the fitness or unfitness of the persons boarding them. in all cases, he should as a preliminary proceeding inquire into the accommodation and general circumstances of the persons proposing to receive an individual of unsound mind into their family, and should reject the application of those who are unable to afford suitable conveniences and adequate management. could a properly-organized system of supervision and control be established, the disposal of poor insane persons in the homes of the industrious classes would not be open to the objections it is at present, when no adequate legal provision to ensure their inspection and welfare is in existence. indeed, it would be an improvement and blessing to many of the chronic lunatics in our great asylums, could they so far be set at liberty, and have their original independence restored to them by a distribution in the cottage-homes of our country, where, under sufficient control, they could exercise useful employments, and relieve the rates of part of their cost. we have used the term 'cottage-homes' advisedly, because it is evident, that, except in very small towns, a town-residence would be most unsuitable. the example of the great colony of insane persons at gheel, in belgium, has suggested this plan of boarding lunatics in the homes of the working classes, chiefly of agriculturists, to the minds of many english philanthropists desirous to ameliorate the condition of our pauper insane, and to lessen the large costs of asylum provision. the only attempt, however, as far as we are aware, partaking at all of the conditions calculated to render such a scheme satisfactory and successful, hitherto made, is that on a small scale at the devon asylum under the direction of dr. bucknill, and we are happy to find from this gentleman's report that the arrangement has hitherto worked well. we shall return to this subject in a subsequent section,--"on the distribution of the chronic insane in cottage-homes." § _transmission of unfit cases to asylums--improper treatment prior to admission._ in preceding pages it has been remarked that the transfer of lunatics to asylums is regulated not by the nature of their case, and its amenability to treatment or amelioration, but by the circumstance of their being refractory and troublesome, annoying by their habits, or so infirm and sick as to require attentive nursing; or, in general, in such a state that their residence involves an increased and unworkhouse-like cost. the question of the recency of the attack is treated as of far less moment; for if the poor sufferer have what are called harmless delusions, or if he is only so melancholic that suicide is not constantly apprehended, then under these and such similar conditions, the economical theory of the establishment commonly preponderates over every consideration of the desirability of treatment in the presumedly expensive asylum, and the patient is retained. in course of time his malady becomes chronic, and in all probability incurable, and his condition so deteriorated in all respects by the absence of proper measures for his mental and moral treatment, that sooner or later his physical health gives way, or his habits grow inconveniently annoying and troublesome, and then it is that workhouse officials discover that the county asylum is his suitable abode. by this system of 'clearance' the workhouses are relieved of their most burdensome and costly inmates, who fall to the charge of asylums, in which their presence necessarily keeps down the rate of recoveries, multiplies the proportion of chronic lunatics, and increases the expenses and the rate of mortality. the medical superintendents of our asylums bear witness to the recklessness, and to the cruelty, at times, which often mark the doings of workhouse authorities when they wish to rid themselves of the cost and trouble of any of the lunatic poor in their keeping. the illustrations at hand, obtained from county asylum reports, are so numerous, that we must content ourselves with a selection of a few of the more striking. dr. boyd, the distinguished physician of the somerset county asylum, makes the following statement in his sixth report (1853):--"several aged persons, and many others in a feeble state, have been admitted during the year, so that the mortality, although less than in the preceding year, has still been considerable. for example, two cases have been recently admitted: one that of a man with dropsy, and broken down in constitution, who is reported to have been given to excess in drinking ardent spirits, and to have been subject to epileptic fits; he was disappointed at not being admitted into a general hospital, became violent, and was sent as a patient here; he has been free from fits since his admission, is rational, but apparently in the last stage of bodily disease. the other case is that of a woman about seventy, paralysed, and unable to sit up in the arm-chair without support. she was troublesome in the union workhouse, and was reported _as dangerous_, and so was sent to the asylum. there have been four males with paralysis recently sent in from being dirty in their habits.... one female was improperly sent with _delirium_ attending on _fever_: she died a fortnight after admission." in his ninth report, this same superintendent says,--"some are sent to the asylum in a state of paralysis, some are aged and in a state of fatuity, and others when they become troublesome, or are in a diseased and feeble state of bodily health, and require more nurse-tending than they receive in the workhouses.... under the existing arrangements, lunatic asylums are gradually losing their proper character of hospitals for the recovery of the insane, and sinking down to be mere auxiliaries to workhouses." out of eighty admissions at the worcester county asylum, fourteen were between sixty and eighty years of age, and for the most part "the subjects of organic disease of the brain, lungs, and heart, or suffered from long-continued mental disease, or from the superannuation of old age, and deficient nutrition of the brain and nervous centres. four of them died during the year.... during the early part of the year some correspondence was entered into with several unions, from which patients had been sent in a dying or exhausted state; and the impropriety of such proceeding was pointed out by your committee.... it is not supposed that those unfortunate cases are wilfully detained with improper intentions at their homes or elsewhere, but from ignorance; and from want of the necessary appliances, and the assistance of those accustomed to the insane, proper measures cannot be adopted for their care and recovery," and various injuries are inflicted. the experienced superintendent of the beds., herts., and hunts. asylum reports, in 1856, that of 111, as many as twelve died within three months of their being admitted; five did not survive a fortnight. "one male, an epileptic seventy-nine years of age, and having been bedridden for years from contracted limbs, and nearly exhausted from the journey, died on the twelfth day. a female, aged sixty-eight, with disease of the heart, died on the fourth day from exhaustion, having been some time without rest, and having refused her food previous to admission. a female in the last stage of pulmonary consumption, lived but seventeen days; and one very distressing case of a female ... was brought to the asylum, who, worn out from constant excitement, and having a large wound on the leg, with ulcerations from ligatures on the wrists and ankles, sank on the fourteenth day. the two last-mentioned patients were reported to have refused food for nearly a week, but took every kind of nourishment offered to them from the moment they were in the asylum." the report of the suffolk county asylum records the admission of ten poor persons in 1852 "nearly seventy years of age, nine over seventy, three over eighty; sixteen in a state of bodily exhaustion; nine either idiots from birth, or imbeciles for a very long period; one child with well-known disease of the heart, and a woman, a cripple, scrofulous, blind and deaf." "what," asks dr. kirkman, the venerable superintendent, "can be done more than good nursing to support a peevish mind in a patient eighty-four, admitted only a few days ago?" he adds, "to give other instances, one man was received some time back on a very qualified certificate, and upon whose case a qualified certificate only could be given; and another (somewhat experimentally) with the notice that his mania, if such it were, existed only in the want of a slight resistance to a wayward will; and another, a girl of sixteen, subsequently found not to be insane, but suffering from aggravated cataleptic hysteria, supposed to have been caused by fright, having spinal disease, and deformed throughout the body." dr. hitchman, whose reports we have found so valuable in former sections of this work, has repeatedly called attention to the subject now under notice. in 1853 he writes:--"it is with feelings of deepest sorrow that your physician is compelled to state, that patients continue to be sent to the asylum in very advanced stages of bodily and mental disease.... so long as no violent or overt act has been perpetrated; so long as the sufferer can be 'managed' in the privacy of his miserable home, or by the 'cheap' resources of a workhouse, he is often detained from the lunatic hospital. disease, aggravated by neglect, continues its direful course, the 'harmless' lunatic becomes very dirty in his habits, or very violent in his conduct, windows are broken, clothes are torn, persons are injured, and the strap, the strait-waistcoat, and the chain are brought into service to control for a time the ravings and the mischief of the patient. steps are now taken for his removal--bound, bruised, dirty, and paralysed, the poor creature is taken to an asylum. one glance is sufficient to reveal to the experienced eye that _cure_ is hopeless; that while every resource of the institution will be needed to sustain the exhausted energies of the patient--to preserve him from the sufferings consequent upon the loss of his self-control over the excretions of his body, yet for two or three years he may survive to swell the list of incurables--to diminish the per-centage of cures--to crowd the hospital, and, worse than all, to perpetuate this popular belief, and to encourage the pernicious practice, which are now leading to the moral death and social extinction of hundreds of our fellow-creatures." speaking of the admissions in 1854, he says:--"several were in advanced stages of bodily disease; thus, i. c. expired in eight hours after his arrival at this hospital. he was removed from the vehicle in which he was brought to his bed, where he remained tranquil until the moment of his decease. the state of great prostration in which he was brought, forbade the employment of the usual washing-bath; nor was he subjected to the fatigue of being shaved (of which he stood in much need) in consequence of his exhaustion. f. g., aged 76 years, admitted with the marks of restraint round her wrists, survived eighteen days--only by the administration of wine and warmth. s. c., brought bound by straps and a strait-waistcoat in the afternoon of the 18th, was so convulsed and epileptic, that she died on the morning of the 20th, having scarcely spoken during the time she was in the asylum. others were in advanced stages of dropsy, phthisis, and general paralysis, and, although in a hopeless condition, lived on for several weeks under the fostering care of the institution. one poor girl, admitted from lincolnshire, in a perfectly helpless condition (the delirium of fever having been mistaken for the ravings of insanity), was conveyed from the vehicle to a water-bed, where she has remained in a state of great suffering for upwards of twelve weeks, and is never likely again to recover the use of her limbs." the experience of the kent asylum is similar. the age of eleven persons admitted in 1853 averaged 64, and twelve were from 72 to 75. "in many of these the malady was simply decay of mind, or was due to apoplectic seizures, and attended by palsy." in the report for 1857-1858, dr. huxley goes more at large into the question of unfitness for asylum admission, and the vigour and clearness of his remarks induces us to quote them at length. he observes:--"it seems difficult to understand on what principle patients are sometimes sent. one man, for an intemperate threat uttered under considerable provocation, is hastened off to the asylum. he can then only be deemed insane in a constructive sense, and in reliance on the undoubted good faith of the whole proceedings for his removal. he is seen to be sane; he remains so, and merely awaits the next discharging-day. in the interval he has had time to reflect on the danger of uncontrolled speech; but perhaps he and his family ought not to have incurred the reproach (as it is held) of insanity in the blood. perhaps, also, he ought not to have swelled the list of persons insane, adding his mite to the evidence which supports the general belief in an actual increase of disorders of the mind. "again, the facility with which a drunken prostitute finds admission and re-admission is astonishing. the delirium, rather than insanity proper, produced by excessive drinking, has, indeed, some alarming modes of expression; but it is a different thing from true mental derangement, and is transient, the patient being generally nearly all right again on arrival. i confess to a feeling which grudges to such patients the benefits of an asylum and association with the inmates who are truly unfortunate. their detention is wholly unsatisfactory; it leads to nothing. long or short, it proves no warning against a return to former bad courses; whilst the presence of people (i do not call them patients) of this sort seriously injures the interior comfort of the wards. ought such cases to swell the returns of lunacy? then, in estimating the supposed growth of insanity among the people, let the fact be remembered, that here is one contributing element, which was not represented until of late years. once again, the extent to which strongly-marked senility is now made the reason for admission to the asylum is, i think, unprecedented. to grow childish, wilful, and intractable; to lose memory, and forget the good habits of a life; to take no note of times and seasons; to wake by night and be restless, and to become generally incapable, are the rule rather than the exception at the close of an extended life. i do not think these natural ills ought to be the cause so frequently as they are found to be, for sending the subjects of them to an asylum. workhouses may not contain the little special accommodation needful for such cases; but it would not be a good argument to hold, that because they _do_ not, the asylum must be the proper receptacle. "poverty is, truly, the great evil; it has no friends able to help. persons in middle society do not put away their aged relatives because of their infirmities, and i think it was not always the custom for worn-out paupers to be sent to the asylum. may not this practice be justly regarded as an abuse of the asylum? it is one more of the ways in which, at this day, the apparent increase of insanity is sustained. it is not a real increase, since the aged have ever been subject to this sort of unsoundness. "decayed persons, once placed in an asylum, are ever after held to have been rightfully deemed insane. if any of their descendants, therefore, become mentally afflicted, the hereditary taint is straightway accounted to them. this is, indeed, to show cause why all the world should be mad! i hold it to be wrong to send persons to an asylum merely on account of second childhood, and a wrong operating to general disparagement. in the first place, the practice is only an indirect consequence of poverty; next, it helps improperly to force asylums to a size inconsistent with their best management; and thirdly, it is one amongst other apparent, but not real grounds, for that increase of mental disorder, which is apprehended with such general alarm. "we received at least twelve persons, who, in my judgment, needed not, and therefore ought not to have been sent, viz. seven aged, being of 70, 74, 76, 78, 79, 80, and 82 years; three children, of 6, 8, and 10 years; and two adults. one of the children was not insane, but suffering from chorea (st. vitus's dance) affecting the whole body. this disorder had, apparently, been mistaken for mania." we will close these quotations by one from dr. bucknill's report for 1854:-"there can be little doubt that those asylums, the admission into which is restricted by legal formalities alone, are not unfrequently made use of as hospitals for the treatment of bodily disease and for the care of the bodily infirm. to such asylums patients are sent suffering from serious and troublesome bodily diseases, whose mental condition would never have been considered a sufficient cause for removal had it existed alone. the number of patients has not been small, who, from time to time, have been admitted into the devon asylum with serious disease of the several organs of the body, and with no greater amount of mental disturbance than is the frequent result of such disease. "patients have been admitted suffering from heart disease, aneurism, and cancer, with scarcely a greater amount of melancholy than might be expected to take place in many sane persons at the near and certain prospect of death. some have been received in the last stages of consumption, with that amount only of cerebral excitement so common in this disorder; others have been received in the delirium or the stupor of typhus; while in several cases the mental condition was totally unknown after admission, and must have been unknown before, since the advanced condition of bodily disease prevented speech, and the expression of intelligence or emotion, either normal or morbid. "these observations are made in no spirit of complaint. the capabilities of these institutions to treat all ailments of mind or body are indeed felt to be a source of satisfaction and pride. it ought, however, to be known, that this county asylum is, to some extent, made use of as a public infirmary, and that the result of such employment must be expected in an obituary somewhat lengthened, if not also in a list of cures somewhat abbreviated." sufficient proofs are surely furnished in the above extracts, selected from many similar ones, to establish the general statements advanced at the beginning of the present subject, viz. that both recklessness and cruelty not unfrequently mark the proceedings of workhouse officials in their transmission of patients to the county asylums. they, moreover, supply facts to prove that the neglect in transferring proper cases for asylum treatment, and the inexcusable folly of sending to asylums the victims of second childishness, the imbecile paralytics, the peevish and perverse sufferers from chronic organic disease, such as poor consumptives, whose days are measured by the shortest span, tend to promote the accumulation of incurable inmates, to raise the mortality, and to increase the expenditure of these institutions. in fact, the annual returns of county asylum experience demonstrate that the transmission to asylums is regulated by no rule, and is attended by great abuses. the practical lesson deducible from this is, that the matter must be placed in other hands, and guided according to some rational principles. the insane poor must no longer be left to pine in neglect and misery in their own homes, until their friends tire of the trouble of them, or some casual circumstance class them, in a relieving officer's opinion, as proper candidates for an asylum; nor must their presence in the workhouse be, for the future, regulated by the mere circumstance of the care, attention and expense they involve, in the estimation of workhouse governors. there need be some specially appointed officer, whose business it should be to know both the existence of every insane person in his district and his condition and treatment, and to report those who require the care of a curative asylum, those who only need the nursing and supervision of a chronic one, and those who can be duly and efficiently tended and cherished in the homes of their families. by the exertions of such an officer, we should no longer read of the removal of dying patients, only to die in the asylums; or of the victims of neglect and wretchedness detained in workhouses or their homes, until the advance of their mental malady, the complication of organic disease, or some casualty, has rendered them hopelessly incurable, and burdensome in cost,--a cause of a decreased rate of cures and of an augmentation of deaths in the asylum. but there is yet another lesson to be learned from the foregoing extracts, confirmatory of our own experience, which we might well wish to ignore, viz. the want of knowledge, both of the characters of insanity and of the treatment it demands, among our professional brethren. undoubtedly a vast stride has been made of late years in diffusing correct views of insanity and its treatment, yet much remains to be done; and it is humiliating to read of cases of delirium from fever, or from organic disease, affecting other organs than the brain; of patients afflicted with chorea; of others delirious from exhaustion or from alcoholic drinks, sent to asylums as cases of insanity. for it is to be remembered, that a medical certificate is a necessary preliminary to the entrance of every person into an asylum; and where the nature of the cases indicates no flagrant error of diagnosis, it at all events exhibits a carelessness or recklessness of the medical man, or his want of moral courage and of official independence, where, for example, he acts as the agent in sending to asylums the aged imbecile of fourscore years, or the poor restless, irritable victim of consumption or other fatal organic bodily disease. moreover, it speaks ill of union medical officers, who are entrusted with the supervision, medical care and treatment, and with the dietary of the lunatic poor, to read of the neglected and wretched state in which they are too often found, both in workhouses and in their own homes, and of the condition in which they sometimes are when received into asylums. the bonds and bands, the physical exhaustion from want of food, are matters rightly placed, in a greater or less measure, in their hands. the treatment by cupping, leeches, general bleeding, blistering and purging, and by other depressing means, lies wholly at their door; and such treatment, we regret to say, is still, by some medical practitioners, deemed proper, although experience has for years shown that madness is a disease of debility, and that to use debilitating means is the most direct way to render it incurable. there is yet another indication of the deficiency of information among medical men in general, often noticed by asylum physicians, viz. their inability to recognize the peculiar form of paralysis attended with disordered mind, known as "general paralysis." where, as at st. luke's hospital, at bethlem, and at hanwell, under the recent regulation for promoting the early treatment of recent cases, the existence of general paralysis disqualifies an applicant from admission, the rejection of patients, on the ground of its presence, often gives rise to disappointment and to irritation on the part of the medical men signing the certificates, who will stoutly deny the justice of the exclusion, because they see no such loss of motion or sensation as they do in hemiplegia or paraplegia, or those forms of palsy to which they are accustomed to restrict the appellation. this defective knowledge of insanity and its treatment ought not to be found, were medical instruction complete. but whilst the medical curricula make no requirement of instruction in mental disease necessary to medical qualifications, they are expanded so as to comprehend almost every branch of human knowledge, under the heads of 'preliminary education' and of 'collateral sciences,' and yet ignore psychological medicine, as though human beings were without minds, or, at least, without minds subject to disorder. the consequence is, as facts above illustrate, medical men enter into practice with no conception of the varied phenomena of mental disorder; unable to diagnose it; unfit to treat it, and glad to keep out of the way of its sufferers. some, as before intimated, associate it, in their views, with inflammatory or congestive disease, and treat it accordingly, by blood-letting and the other parts of the so-called antiphlogistic regimen, to the speedy destruction of the patient, by increased maniacal excitement and concurrent exhaustion, or to his extreme detriment in relation to his prospects of recovery. let us hope that this state of things may ere long be entirely amended, and that medical practitioners may be required to understand disorders of the mind as perfectly as those of the lungs. before quitting the subject of this section, a brief comment on the state of the law regulating the transference of weak cases to asylums will not be misplaced. according to _sect._ lxvii. 16 & 17 vict. cap. 97, providing for the examination of alleged lunatics prior to removal to an asylum, it is enacted, "that in case any pauper deemed to be lunatic, cannot, on account of his health or other cause, be conveniently taken before a justice, such pauper may be examined at his own abode;" and that, if found lunatic, he shall be conveyed to an "asylum, hospital, or house...; provided also, that if the physician, surgeon, or apothecary by whom any such pauper shall be examined shall certify in writing that he is not in a fit state to be removed, his removal shall be suspended until the same or some other physician, surgeon, or apothecary shall certify in writing that he is fit to be removed; and every such physician, surgeon, and apothecary is required to give such last-mentioned certificate as soon as in his judgment it ought to be given." a similar provision is made in the case of "lunatics wandering at large, not being properly taken care of, or being cruelly treated" or neglected by their relatives, by the section next following (_sect._ lxviii). further, by _sect._ lxxvii., empowering the visitors of asylums to remove patients, it is provided "that no person shall be removed under any such order without a medical certificate signed by the medical officer of the asylum, or the medical practitioner, or one of the medical practitioners, keeping, residing in, or visiting the hospital, or licensed house, from which such person is ordered to be removed, certifying that he is in a fit condition of bodily health to be removed in pursuance of such order." from the clauses above quoted, it is evidently the intent of the law to shield the unfortunate sufferers from mental disease, where prostrated by exhaustion or by organic lesions, against hasty and injudicious removal detrimental to their condition, or dangerous to life; yet, as already seen, these provisions are inoperative in preventing the evil. those, indeed, regulating the transfer or removal of patients to or from an asylum are to a certain extent obligatory, and are probably attended to; but it is not so with those designed to protect lunatics from injurious removals under the direction of parochial authorities, as enacted by _sect._ lxvii. for by this section it is left to the discretion of the medical practitioner called in, to examine the patient, and to certify, in writing, to his unfitness for removal; but much too commonly, according to the testimony of every asylum superintendent, the humane intentions of the law are neglected. this 67th section need, therefore, to be assimilated to the 77th, so far as to make it imperative on the part of the medical man who examines the patient, to certify "that he is in a fit state of bodily health to be removed." this is but a slight amendment, but it might save many a poor creature in a totally broken-down, exhausted, or moribund state, from being carried to an asylum far away, only to pine away and die. it is hard to write against the members of one's own profession, but the details put forth by asylum physicians of the manner in which patients are conveyed to the public institutions, and of the state in which they are received, demand, on the score of humanity, a condemnation of the indifference and negligence which sometimes mark the performance of duties rightly chargeable to parochial medical officers. partial excuses for these officers may be found in abundance, on account of their usual wretched remuneration, and the too dependent position they occupy in reference to the parish boards appointing them; but no sufficient explanation appears for their withholding a certificate allowed by law, which might prevent the removal of a patient delirious with fever, of one perishing from heart disease or consumption, or of one dying from the exhaustion of cerebral excitement and defective nutrition. chap. vi.--causes diminishing the curability of insanity, and involving the multiplication of chronic lunatics. other causes than those already examined are in existence, sending to diminish the curability and to multiply the permanent sufferers of insanity, to be found unfortunately in the character and constitution of the very establishments constructed to afford requisite care and treatment for our pauper lunatics. according to the division of our subject (p. 31), these causes belong to the second head; or are-b. _causes in operation within asylums._ § _magisterial interference. excessive size of asylums. insufficient medical supervision._ there are in too many asylums grave errors of construction, government, and management, which detract from their utility, and damage the interests of both superintendents and patients. in several there is too much magisterial meddling, subversive of that unity of action and management which should prevail in an asylum, as it must do in a ship, and prejudicial to the position and authority of the superintendents, by diminishing their responsibility, their self-respect and independence, and their importance in the estimation of those under their direction. the visiting justices of an asylum mistake their office when they descend from matters of general administration and supervision to those of superintendence and internal management. when they exchange their legal position as occasional visitors of the wards for that of weekly or more frequent inspectors; when they directly occupy themselves with the details of the establishment, with the circumstances affecting the patients, with their occupations and amusements, irrespective of the medical officer; when they suffer themselves to be appealed to, and to act as referees in matters of internal discipline; when they assume to themselves the hiring and discharging of attendants; and when, without taking counsel with the medical superintendent, they determine on alterations and additions to their asylum,--they are most certainly pursuing a policy calculated to disturb and destroy the government and the successful operation of the establishment. a meddling policy is in all ways mischievous and bad; it irritates honourable minds, and deters them in their praiseworthy and noble endeavours to merit approval and reward; whilst it at the same time acts as an incentive to apathy, indolence, and neglect: for freedom and independence of action, a feeling of trust reposed, and of merit appreciated, are necessary to the cheerful, energetic and efficient performance of duties. so soon as the zeal of any man of ordinary moral sensibility is doubted, so soon as his competency for his office is so far questioned by the activity and interference of others in his particular field of labour, so soon is a check given to his best endeavours in the discharge of his duties, his interest in them abates, and a blow is inflicted upon his feelings and self-respect. in short, it cannot be disputed, that if an asylum have a duly qualified and trustworthy superintendent, the less a committee of visitors interferes with its internal organization and the direction of its details, the more advantageous is it for the well-being of the institution. again, many asylums have grown to such a magnitude, that their general management is unwieldy, and their due medical and moral care and supervision an impossibility. they have grown into lunatic colonies of eight or nine hundred, or even of a thousand or more inhabitants, comfortably lodged and clothed, fed by a not illiberal commissariat, watched and waited on by well-paid attendants, disciplined and drilled to a well-ordered routine, gratified by entertainments, and employed where practicable, and, on the whole, considered as paupers, very well off; but in the character of patients, labouring under a malady very amenable to treatment, if not too long neglected, far from receiving due consideration and care. although the aggregation of large numbers of diseased persons, and of lunatics among others, is to be deprecated on various grounds, hygienic and others, yet the objections might be felt as of less weight, contrasted with the presumed economical and administrative advantages accruing from the proceeding, were the medical staff proportionately augmented, and the mental malady of the inmates of a chronic and generally incurable character. but, in the instance of the monster asylums referred to, neither is the medical staff at all proportionate to the number of patients, nor are their inmates exclusively chronic lunatics. the medical officer is charged with the care and supervision of some three, four, or five hundred insane people, among whom are cases of recent attack, and of bodily disease of every degree of severity, and to whom a considerable accession of fresh cases is annually made; and to his duties as physician are added more or fewer details of administration, and all those of the internal management of the institution, which bear upon the moral treatment of its inmates, and are necessary even to an attempt at its harmonious and successful working. now, little reflection is needed to beget the conviction, that a medical man thus surcharged with duties cannot efficiently perform them; and the greater will his insufficiency be, the larger the number of admissions, and of recent or other cases demanding medical treatment. he may contrive, indeed, to keep his asylum in good order, to secure cleanliness and general quiet, to provide an ample general dietary, and such like, but he will be unable to do all that he ought to do for the cure and relief of the patients entrusted to him as a physician. to treat insane people aright, they must be treated as individuals, and not _en masse_; they must be individually known, studied, and attended to both morally and medically. if recent insanity is to be treated, each case must be closely watched in all its psychical and physical manifestations, and its treatment be varied according to its changing conditions. can a medical man, surrounded by several hundred insane patients, single-handed, fulfil his medical duties to them effectively, even had he no other duties to perform, and were relieved from the general direction of the asylum? can he exercise a vigilant and efficient superintendence over the inmates? can he watch and personally inform himself of their mental, moral and bodily condition, prescribe their appropriate treatment, diagnose disease and detect its many variations; secure the due administration of medicines and of external appliances; order the necessary food and regimen; feed those who would starve themselves; attend to casualties and to sanitary arrangements; judiciously arrange the classification, the employments and recreations; keep the history of cases, make and record autopsies, and watch the carrying out of his wishes by the attendants? can, we repeat, an asylum superintendent properly perform these, and those many other minor duties of his office, conceivable to all those who experimentally understand the matter, though not readily conveyed by description? can any person perform these duties, if they were separable, without injury to the working of the institution, from the many details of general management which the position of superintendent has attached to it? can he be justly held accountable, if the huge and complex machine goes wrong in any part? can he feel sure that his patients are well looked after, attended to according to his wishes, and kindly treated? can he do justice, lastly, as a physician, to any one afflicted patient, whose restoration to health and to society depends on the efficient exercise of his medical skill, and do this without neglecting other patients and other duties? to these questions, surely, every thinking, reasoning man will reply in the negative. the consequence is, that asylum superintendents, who thus find themselves overburdened with multifarious and onerous duties, and feel the hopelessness of a personal and efficient discharge of all of them, are driven to a system of routine and general discipline, as the only one whereby the huge machine in their charge can work, and look upon recoveries as casual successes or undesigned coincidences (_see further_, p. 119). the inadequacy of the medical staff of most asylums is a consequence, in part, of the conduct of superintendents themselves, and in part of the notions of economy, and of the little value in which medical aid is held by visiting justices in general. the contrast of a well-ordered asylum at the present day, with the prison houses, the ill-usage and neglect of the unhappy insane at a period so little removed from it, has produced so striking an effect on mankind at large, that public attention is attracted and riveted to those measures whereby the change has been brought about; in other words, to the moral means of treatment,--to the liberty granted, the comforts of life secured, the amusements contrived, and the useful employment promoted,--all which can, to a greater or less extent, be carried out equally by an unprofessional as by a professional man. it is therefore not so surprising that the importance of a medical attendant is little appreciated, and that the value of medical treatment is little heeded. there has, in fact, been a revulsion of popular feeling in favour of the moral treatment and employment of the insane; and, as a popular sentiment never wants advocates, so it has been with the one in question; and by the laudation by physicians of the so-called moral means of treatment, and the oblivion into which medical aid has been allowed to fall, magistrates, like other mortals, have had their convictions strengthened, that medical superintendents, considered in their professional capacity, are rather ornamental than essential members of an asylum staff; very well in their way in cases of casual sickness or injury, useful to legalize the exit of the inmates from the world, and not bad scape-goats in misadventures and unpleasant investigations into the management, and in general not worse administrators, under the safeguard of their own magisterial oversight, than would be members of most other occupations and professions. as before remarked, the magnitude of an asylum, and the paucity of its medical officers, are matters of much more serious import where recent cases of insanity are under treatment. in a colossal refuge for the insane, a patient may be said to lose his individuality, and to become a member of a machine so put together as to move with precise regularity and invariable routine;--a triumph of skill adapted to show how such unpromising materials as crazy men and women may be drilled into order and guided by rule, but not an apparatus calculated to restore their pristine condition and their independent self-governing existence. in all cases admitting of recovery, or of material amelioration, a gigantic asylum is a gigantic evil, and, figuratively speaking, a manufactory of chronic insanity. the medical attendant, as said before, is so distracted by multitudinous duties, that the sufferer from the acute attack can claim little more attention than his chronic neighbour, except at the sacrifice of other duties. no frequent watching several times a day, and no special interest in the individual case, can be looked for. there is such a thing as a facility in observing and dealing with the phenomena of acute mental disorder, acquired by experience; but it would be well nigh unjust to expect it in a medical officer, in whose field of observation a case of recent attack is the exception, and chronic insanity the rule, among the hundreds around. the practical result of this state of things is, that the recently attacked patient almost inevitably obtains less attention than he needs from the physician, who, from lack of sufficient personal observation, must trust to the reports of others, to the diligence, skill and fidelity of his attendants, and who, in fine, is compelled to repose work in others' hands which should rightly fall into his own. this being the case, the character of the attendants for experience, knowledge, tact and honesty acquires importance directly proportionate to the size of asylums, and the degree of inability of the medical superintendents to perform his duties personally. now, though we need testify to the excellent qualities of some asylum attendants, yet, notwithstanding any admissions of this sort, it is a serious question how far such agents should be employed to supply the defects and omissions of proper medical supervision and treatment. the class of society from which they are usually derived; their common antecedents, as persons unsuccessful or dissatisfied with their previous calling, or otherwise tempted by the higher wages obtainable in asylums, are circumstances not calculated to prepossess the feelings in favour of their employment in that sort of attendance on the insane alluded to. they have no preliminary instruction or training, but have to learn their duties in the exercise of them. many are their failures, many their faults, and often are they very inefficient, as the records of every asylum testify; yet, on the whole, considering their antecedents, and the nature of the duties imposed upon them, their success is remarkable. however, whatever their character as a body, as individuals they require the direct and ever-active oversight and control of the superintendent. the institution of head-attendants is a great relief to the labour of the latter, but rightly affords him no opportunity to relax his own inspection and watchfulness. in a large asylum there must be general routine: it can be conducted only by routine; and the attendants are the immediate agents in carrying it out. their duties necessarily partake largely of a household character; they are engaged in cleaning and polishing, in bed-making and dressing, in fetching and carrying, and in serving meals. but along with these they are entrusted with certain parts of the 'moral treatment' of the patients,--in enforcing the regulations as to exercise, employment, amusement, the distribution of meals, and the general cleanliness and order both of the wards and their inmates; and in the exercise of these functions acquire much knowledge respecting the character and habits of those under their care. yet withal, they are not fit and efficient persons to have medical duties delegated to them. they are not qualified to observe and record the symptoms of disease, to note its changes, nor, except under close surveillance, to apply remedies externally or internally. such is the onset or the serious march of bodily sickness not unfrequently, that even the experienced medical observer is prone to overlook it. this is true where disease attacks those sound in mind, and able to express their sufferings, and to lend the aid of their intelligence towards the discovery of the nature and seat of their malady; but the danger of oversight is increased tenfold when the insane are the subjects of bodily lesion. where the mind is enfeebled and sensibility blunted, and where melancholy broods heavily over its victim, disease is to be discovered only by a watchful and experienced practitioner of medicine; for the unfortunate patient will make no complaint, and the fatal malady may evince itself to the ordinary uninstructed observer by no sufficient symptom to awaken attention; and even where the mind is not imbecile, nor weighed down by its fears and profound apathy, yet the features of its disorder will interfere, in most instances, with the appreciation and interpretation of the symptoms which may reach the knowledge of those about the sufferer, and thereby mask the disease from the non-professional looker-on, and render its diagnosis even difficult to the medical examiner. with respect to the female attendants of asylums, it may also be observed, that they are frequently young women without experience in disease, and rarely qualified as nurses conversant with certain medical matters; and, from our own observation, they are found to be often backward and shy in reporting particulars respecting the female patients, and badly qualified in administering to their wants when sick. moreover, equally with the male attendants, there is, by their education and training, no security for a well-governed temper, for long suffering, patience and sympathy. indeed, the wages given in most asylums are not sufficient to induce a higher class of young women to accept the onerous and often painful and disagreeable duties of attendants on the insane, than that which furnishes housemaids and kitchenmaids to respectable families. if, therefore, their origin be only looked to, it would be contrary to experience to expect from the nurses of asylums, as a body, the possession of high moral principle and sensibility, of correct notions of duty, and of a hearty interest in their duties. we make these remarks, with no intention to censure the whole race of asylum nurses, among whom are many meritorious women; but merely to enforce the opinion that something may be done to improve their character and condition, and that, as a class, they are not rightly chargeable with duties of the kind and to the extent we are engaged in pointing out. on the contrary, their history, position, and education conspire to make them servants in tone and character, unfit often to exercise the discipline and authority entrusted to them; whilst the general duties connected with the cleanliness and order of their wards and rooms, and the observation of the universal routine of the asylum, contribute to the same effect, and the more so in large establishments, where the almost constant supervision of the superintendent is wanting, where individual interest in patients is all but dead, and where their number renders the inmates mere automatons, acted on in this or that fashion according to the rules governing the great machine. from the necessity of the case, the medical superintendent of a colossal asylum is compelled mainly to trust to the observation of his attendants to discover disease, and to report mishaps. he has his mile or upwards of wards and offices to perambulate daily, and, to keep up some connexion with their four or five hundred inmates, must adopt some general plan. for instance, he refers to the attendant of each ward he enters, demands from him if he has anything to report, wends his way through the apartment, looks right and left, remarks if the floor and rooms are duly swept and garnished; now and then inspects the bed and bedding, bids good morning to more or fewer of the patients who may be present, and unless brown or jones has something to report of any one of them, bids good day to all, to recommence the same operation in the next ward. now brown or jones might have had something to report had they medical eyes, and information to detect the first symptoms of disease in one of their patients; but as they have not, the disorder has a fair opportunity to steal a march upon the doctor, and possibly to take such firm possession of its victim before this or that attendant is persuaded something is going wrong, that the doctor only commences his professional operations against it in time to render his certificate of death satisfactory, and the result explicable without a coroner's inquest. we do not blame the medical men for not doing more, but we deprecate the system which places it out of their power to do so. no one can gainsay the possibility, nay, the actual occurrence, of avoidable deaths in the large asylums we condemn; and those who know the working of such institutions, know also that the duties are performed much after the sketch delineated, and could be got through in no greatly improved fashion. but it must not be supposed, that it is only when disease exists or has to be discovered, that the delegation of the principal part of the supervision of patients to ordinary asylum attendants operates injuriously to their well-being; far from it, for many are the cases which require the presence of a more instructed and more sympathizing mind; of a person to appreciate their moral and mental condition; to overrule by his official position disorderly manifestations, to pacify the excitable, to encourage and cheer the melancholy; to espy and anticipate the wants of all; to hear the complaints of some, and to be the confidant of others; to mark the mental changes of individuals, and to adapt surrounding circumstances, their occupations and amusements accordingly. to give such superintendence, or, in other words, to apply such moral and mental treatment, the medical officer is the only fitting person; from him the patients will and do naturally look for it. let any one follow a medical superintendent in his ordinary visits through the wards; and he will observe how ardently the visit is anticipated by many; how numerous are the little troubles and ailments they wish to disclose to the physician, and only to him; how often he can arrest excitement and calm irritation, only aggravated by the interposition of attendants; how often he can recognize mental and bodily symptoms demanding attention, and, in general, how largely he can supply those minutiæ of treatment, insignificant as they appear, and unthought of as they are by others, whose moral feelings, whose intellectual acumen, whose education and manners, and whose position are deficient to conceive them, and insufficient to put them in force. there is no question, it must be granted, but that whatever medical supervision may be supplied, yet that the carrying out of most of the details of management must always devolve upon the attendants; it becomes, therefore, a matter of paramount importance to render that class of asylum functionaries as efficient as possible. they need be encouraged by good wages and good treatment; and, what is of great moment, these should be sufficiently good, to induce persons of a better class than that which usually furnishes attendants, to accept such posts. this idea will probably be scouted by the stickler to "a due regard for economy," at first sight; but we think his economical penchant might be gratified by the plan of carrying out more fully in the wards the distinction of attendants upon the insane and of household servants. for is it not practicable to import the system adopted in the large london hospitals, where the office of 'sisters,' to nurse the patients, is separated from that of under-nurse, to whom the cleanliness of the wards is committed? if so, the immediate attendants on the insane might receive higher wages without increasing the general expenditure of the asylum; for those concerned in the cleaning of the wards would only earn the wages of common household servants. we throw out this suggestion, in passing, for the nature of our treatise forbids our enlarging upon such matters of asylum organization; otherwise, much might be written respecting the duties and the remuneration of attendants, and the advantages of pensions for them after a certain term of faithful service. to conclude this topic, we may remark that it would be easy, did the subject stand in need of proof, to multiply illustrations, showing that, to transfer the work of medical and moral supervision to attendants, in any similar extent and measure to that which must of necessity prevail in the excessively large asylums which county magistrates rear in opposition to the decided opinion of those best able to judge, is to frustrate the object of those institutions as curative asylums, and to detract from their advantages as refuges for the incurable. the evils of overgrown asylums have not, as might be expected, escaped the observation and reprobation of the commissioners in lunacy, who have referred to them in several of their annual reports, but more at large in that of 1857, wherein they detail their contest with the middlesex magistrates respecting the further enlargement of the enormous asylums of hanwell and colney hatch, and their strange defeat, the magistrates having contrived to influence the home secretary in opposition to the decided opinion of the commissioners, though seconded by experience, by the general assent of all asylum physicians, and by their position as the referees appointed by the state in all matters touching the erection and management of asylums. with this acquiescence in the erroneous scheme of a county magistracy in opposition to a government commission, we have at present no immediate concern, and may content ourselves with reporting it as an anomalous proceeding which ought never to have occurred: but to revert to the sentiments of the commissioners, they are expressed in the following quotation from the report mentioned. "it has always been the opinion of this board that asylums beyond a certain size are objectionable: they forfeit the advantage which nothing can replace, whether in general management or the treatment of disease, of individual and responsible supervision. to the cure or alleviation of insanity, few aids are so important as those which may be derived from vigilant observation of individual peculiarities; but where the patients assembled are so numerous that no medical officer can bring them within the range of his personal examination and judgment, such opportunities are altogether lost, and amid the workings of a great machine, the physician as well as the patient loses his individuality. when to this also is added, what experience has of late years shown, that the absence of a single and undivided responsibility is equally injurious to the general management, and that the rate of maintenance for patients in the larger buildings has a tendency to run higher than in buildings of a smaller size, it would seem as if the only tenable plea for erecting them ought to be abandoned. to the patients, undoubtedly, they bring no corresponding benefit. the more extended they are, the more abridged become their means of cure; and this, which should be the first object of an asylum, and by which alone any check can be given to the present gradual and steady increase in the number of pauper lunatics requiring accommodation, is unhappily no longer the leading characteristic of colney hatch or of hanwell." as may be supposed, the disposition to build huge asylums is due to the same cause as that of the detention of insane persons in workhouses, viz. to the plea of economy; a plea, which we believe to be about as fallacious in the one case as in the other. the economy is supposed to arise from the saving in commissariat matters and in the governing staff; and it is no doubt proportionately cheaper to provision 1000 persons than 500, other things being the same. but, on the one hand, very competent persons assert that the cost of officers and servants for a population of 1000 insane is more than double that for one of half that amount, when proportionately compared. the multiplication of inferior officers beyond a certain point entails that of superior ones in a higher ratio to overlook them; there is not the same amount of productive labour considering the number employed. the capability of the superintendent to supervise his attendants and the patients stops at a certain point, and he need call to his aid a head attendant at superior wages, and so add an extra person to the staff; if the extent of his charge is farther increased by additional patients and their necessary attendants, then an officer of a higher grade is called for, and other overlookers of attendants and of the _régime_ of the house. but figures showing the relative costs presently appealed to will do more to convince the reader of the fact under notice than any 'aids to reflection' we can supply. there can be no question, that to build asylums for the insane above a certain size is a fallacy when viewed even in an economical aspect; but when regarded in relation to its ulterior consequences, the plan is not only erroneous, but reprehensible. were it really the case that a pecuniary saving resulted from the aggregation of large masses of mentally disordered folk, according to the figures in the ledger of the institution, yet no positive gain could be boasted of until it was proved that every case was placed in the most favourable conditions for recovery. can it be pretended that the very extensive asylums of this country, with their present corps of medical officers, furnish such conditions? certainly not, if there be any truth in the account we have published of their evils and defects. and if those conditions are not supplied, the primary object of these institutions, _i. e._ the cure of the insane, is frustrated, and chronic lunacy increased. where, then, is the economy, if patients, failing to receive the means of recovery, by reason of the constitution of the asylum on so large a scale, fall into chronic disease, and become permanent burdens on its funds? where is the economy of a system, which, by standing in the way of efficient treatment, reduces the proportion per cent. of recoveries to twenty or thirty, when under different arrangements that proportion may equal 60 per cent. or upwards? it will be a happy day for the insane, and for the contributors to their maintenance, when visiting justices arrive at the conviction, that they have not done all they can on behalf of the poor disordered people under their guardianship, when they have provided good lodging, board and clothing for them, and such a system of routine and discipline as to check the manifestation of their mental vagaries; and that it is not enough for a recent case, to introduce it into an asylum and the companionship of lunatics, with practically no positive provision for its medical treatment. it will be well, too, for the insane, when the truth becomes more generally assented to, that their malady is no mythical, spiritual alteration, but the consequence of a material lesion of the brain, the marvellous instrument, the subject and servant of the immortal soul, which can by its divine essence know no disorder. this is perhaps, strictly speaking, a digression from the subject; yet erroneous ideas are the parents of erroneous practices, and those we have hinted at form no exception to the rule. but, to return, we have some excellent illustrative remarks on the fallacy of the belief in the economy of very large asylums, contained both in the report of the american and of the english lunacy commissioners. the former thus write in their report (_op. cit._ p. 136):-"the policy which has built large establishments for the insane is a questionable one as applied to economy. after having built a house sufficiently large, and gathered a sufficient number of patients for their proper classification and for the employment of a competent corps of officers and attendants, and allowing each to receive just as much attention as his case requires, and providing no more, any increase of numbers will either crowd the house, or create the necessity of building more rooms; and their management must be either at the cost of that attention which is due to others, or must create the necessity of employing more persons to superintend and to watch them. "if the house be crowded beyond the appropriate numbers, or if the needful attention and the healing influences due to each individual are diminished, the restorative process is retarded, and the recovery is rendered more doubtful; and if additional provision, both of accommodations and professional and subsidiary attendance, is made to meet the increase of patients beyond the best standard, it would cost at least as much per head as for the original number. dr. kirkbride thinks it would cost more, and that the actual recoveries of the curable, and the comfortable guardianship of the incurable, are not so easily attained in large hospitals as in such as come within the description herein proposed. 'it might be supposed that institutions for a much larger number of patients than has been recommended could be supported at a less relative cost; but this is not found to be the case. there is always more difficulty in superintending details in a very large hospital; there are more sources of waste and loss; improvements are apt to be relatively more costly; and, without great care on the part of the officers, the patients will be less comfortable.' "besides the increased cost of maintaining and the diminished efficiency of a large establishment, there is the strong objection of distance and difficulty of access, which must limit the usefulness of a large hospital in the country, and prevent its diffusing its benefits equally over any considerable extent of territory to whose people it may open its doors." having pointed out the evils of large asylums to their inmates, the english commissioners, in their eleventh report (p. 11), remark, "that the rate of maintenance for patients in the larger buildings has a tendency to run higher than in buildings of a smaller size," ... and that it therefore "would seem as if the only tenable plea for erecting them ought to be abandoned." to substantiate this assertion, they appeal to the table of weekly charges of the several county asylums, set forth in the appendix c.c. of the same report, which certainly shows that the cost per head is at its maximum in those which receive the largest number of patients. this being so, surely no one can withhold assent to the just conclusion of the commissioners, that the system of erecting asylums above certain dimensions ought to be abandoned, inasmuch as the only plea that can be urged in its behalf, that, namely, of its economy,--a bad plea, by the way, if the real interests of patients and ratepayers are concerned,--is founded in error. one more topic needs a few words, viz. the very inadequate remuneration of the medical superintendents in some asylums,--a circumstance, confirmatory of the small value assigned by their committees of visitors to professional qualifications. the worst instances of underpayment are, in fact, met with in those very asylums where the number of inmates attains its maximum, and the medical provision for their care is at its minimum; where the administrative power of the medical men is the most limited and most interfered with, and their ability to discharge their duties conscientiously and efficiently, utterly crippled by the multitude of claimants upon their attention surrounding them; and where, in fine, they are merely accessory officials, useful in cases of sickness and accident. it must, indeed, be gratifying to the advocates of the rights of women to know, that in one asylum, at least, female labour is rated as equal to male professional labour; that the matron is as well paid as the medical officers, and more valued in the estimation of the committee of visitors. but, however this circumstance may be viewed by the partisans of the interests of the fair sex, we venture to believe that to most people it will appear a gross anomaly. for our own part, we consider also that it would be to the interests both of patients and rate-payers to elevate the position of the medical superintendents of asylums, and to pay them liberally. as this section of our work is passing through the press, we have got the report, just printed, "from the select committee on lunatics," and are most happy in being able to extract from its pages a very decided opinion expressed by the earl of shaftesbury respecting the scanty salaries of medical superintendents. his lordship, in reply to the question (765), "have you any other remedies to apply to county asylums?" said,--"i do not know whether it is a matter that could be introduced into the bill, but i think the attention of the public should be very much drawn to the state of the medical superintendents in these asylums. it is perfectly clear, that to the greater proportion of the medical superintendents in these asylums, very much larger salaries should be given; and unless you do that, you cannot possibly secure the very best service.... the great object must be to raise the status and character of the superintendents to the highest possible point." in the course of further examination on this subject, his lordship repeats and adds to the opinion just recorded. for instance, he remarks,--"one of the great defects of the present system is, that the salaries of the medical officers are much too low for the service they perform. i think that the county ought to secure the very best talent and responsibility that can be found, and they ought to raise their salaries higher. i believe in some of the asylums the salaries are higher, but i hardly know one where the salary is adequate to the work done.... i cannot think that any superintendent ought to receive much less than from £500 to £600 a year, besides a house and allowances." in this matter, we hope the liberal views of the noble chairman of the lunacy commission will sooner or later be reciprocated by the visitors of asylums; in the mean time, the thanks of the medical profession are heartily due to his lordship for his able advocacy of its just claims. § _limit to be fixed to the size of asylums._ one remedy against extending the evil consequences of large asylums, is to restrict the size of future buildings within certain limits. we do not hope to persuade the advocates of gigantic asylums, by any representation we can offer of their ill-effects to the patients and their false economy, to abandon their notions; but we do hope that there will be a parliamentary interdiction to their perpetuation, or that the commissioners in lunacy will have sufficient authority lodged in their hands to limit the size of future asylums. although all persons conversant with the treatment and requirements of the insane concur in condemning such huge asylums as hanwell and colney hatch, yet there is some difference in opinion, of no very great extent indeed, among them with regard to the number of patients who should be assigned to the care of a single superintendent. moreover, the number who may be treated in the same building and by one physician, will differ according to the nature of the cases--whether all acute, or all chronic, or mixed, acute and chronic together. in this country all the asylums are of a mixed character, but, excepting two or three hospitals for the insane, contain a large preponderance of chronic cases. they are, moreover, all spoken of by the lunacy commissioners as curative asylums. let us now examine the opinions of some of the best authorities upon the subject, so that a tolerably accurate judgment may be formed of the limits within which the size of asylums should be restricted. in 1844, the metropolitan commissioners in lunacy laid it down as a rule that "no asylum for curable lunatics should contain more than 250 patients, and 200 is, perhaps, as large a number as can be managed with the most benefit to themselves and the public in one establishment."--report, 1844, p. 23. the present commissioners have expressed similar views, which also were clearly stated before the special committee of the house of commons this year, by the noble chairman, the earl of shaftesbury. if we look to american opinion, we find (rep. commiss. massachus. 1855, p. 135) that "it is the unanimous opinion of the american association of medical superintendents of insane asylums that not more than 250 patients should be gathered into one establishment, and that 200 is a better number. when this matter was discussed, there was no dissent as to the maximum; yet those who had the charge of the largest hospitals, and knew the disadvantages of large numbers, thought that a lower number should be adopted. "taking the average of the patients that now present themselves in massachusetts, of whom 80 per cent. are supposed to be curable, and need active treatment, and 82 per cent. incurable, and require principally general management and soothing custodial guardianship, and having 'due regard to the comfort and improvement of the patients,' this limit of 250 should not be exceeded. "the principal physician is the responsible manager of every case, and should therefore be personally acquainted with the character and condition of his patients, the peculiarities of the diseased mind, as manifested in each one, and the sources of trouble and depression, or exaltation and perversity. this knowledge is necessary, in order that he should be able to adapt his means of medical or of moral influence with the best hope of success." dr. kirkbride, in his special treatise on the construction and organization of asylums, thus expresses his views (p. 10):--"whatever differences of opinion may have formerly existed on this point (the size of the institution), i believe there are none at present. all the best authorities agree that the number of insane confined in one hospital, should not exceed 250, and it is very important that at no time should a larger number be admitted than the building is calculated to accommodate comfortably, as a crowded institution cannot fail to exercise an unfavourable influence on the welfare of its patients. the precise number that may be properly taken care of in a single institution, will vary somewhat, according to the ratio of acute cases received, and of course to the amount of personal attention required from the chief medical officer. in state institutions, when full, at least one half of all the cases will commonly be of a chronic character, and require little medical treatment. even when thus proportioned, 250 will be found to be as many as the medical superintendent can visit properly every day, in addition to the performance of his other duties. when the proportion of acute or recent cases is likely to be much greater than that just referred to, the number of patients should be proportionately reduced, and 200 will then be found to be a preferable maximum. while no more patients should be received into any hospital than can be visited daily by the chief medical officer, it is desirable that the number should be sufficiently large to give an agreeable company to each class, and to permit a variety of occupations and amusements that would prove too costly for a small institution, unless filled with patients paying a very high rate of board, or possessed of some permanent endowment. it might be supposed that institutions for a much larger number of patients than has been recommended, could be supported at a less relative cost; but this is not found to be the case. there is always more difficulty in superintending details in a very large hospital--there are more sources of waste and loss; improvements are apt to be relatively more costly; and without great care on the part of the officers, the patients will be less comfortable. "whenever an existing state institution built for 250 patients, contains that number, and does not meet the wants of the community, instead of crowding it, and thereby rendering all its inmates uncomfortable, or materially enlarging its capacity by putting up additional buildings, it will be found much better at once to erect an entirely new institution in another section of the state; for under any circumstances, the transfer of acute cases from a great distance, is an evil of serious magnitude, and constantly deplored by those who have the care of the insane." french authorities take the same views. m. ferrus, who wrote so long back as 1834, and is now one of the inspectors of asylums in france, says, in his book, 'des aliénés,' that an asylum for the treatment of mental disorder ought not to contain above 150, or at most 250 patients; but that one having a mixed population of cases requiring treatment of incurables and idiots, may receive 400 or even 500 such inmates, provided the physician is afforded sufficient medical assistance. however, his brother inspector, m. parchappe, whose able work, 'des principes à suivre dans la fondation et la construction des asiles d'aliénés' (published so recently as 1853), forms the most valuable treatise on those subjects, does not approve so large a number of inmates to be collected in an asylum as m. ferrus would sanction. he writes:--"after taking every consideration into account, i think the minimum of patients ought to be fixed at 200, and the maximum at 400. below 200, the economical advantages decline rapidly without a compensatory benefit; above 400, although the economical advantages augment, it is at the detriment of the utility of the institution in its medical character." m. guislain, the eminent belgian physician, in his grand work on insanity, remarks (vol. iii. p. 347), "it would be absurd to attempt to bring together in the same place a very large population; it would tend to foster an injurious degree of excitement; would render the management difficult or impossible; would destroy the unity of plan, and neutralize all scientific effort. the maximum ought not to exceed 300 or 350 insane persons. this limit cannot be exceeded without injury to the well-being of the inmates; but unfortunately this has been but too often disregarded, under the plea of certain views of organization or of economy." jacobi placed the maximum of asylum population at 200 (ueber die anlegung und errichtung von irren-heil-anstalten, p. 24); roller expressed his opinion (grundsätze für errichtung neuer irren-anstalten, p. 84) that one instituted for the treatment of cases (heil-anstalt) should not at the most receive above 200; but that an asylum for chronic cases (pflege-anstalt), connected with the other, may admit from 250 to 300, making a total population, under the same general direction, of 450 or 500; and damerow (ueber die relative verbindung der irren-heil-und pflege-anstalten) unites in the same opinion. it would be useless to multiply quotations; for, in short, there is complete unanimity among all those concerned in the direction of asylums, that such institutions, when of large size, are prejudicial to their inmates and withal not economical. there is likewise a very near coincidence of opinion perceptible with reference to the question of the number of patients which ought to be placed in the same building. supposing the asylum to be specially devoted to the reception of recent cases, it is agreed that it ought to accommodate not more than 200, and that the smaller number of 150 inmates would be preferable. if a receptacle for both acute and chronic mental disease, some would limit the population to 250, whilst others would extend it to 400, provided the medical officers were increased in proportion. the example of the german asylums under the direction of damerow and roller is peculiar; for the curable and chronic cases are not mixed, but placed separately in two sections or two institutions under a general medical direction within the same area. this is the system of 'relative connexion' of the "heil-anstalt,"--institution for treatment, or the hospital, and the "pflege-anstalt," the 'nursing' institution, or the asylum; to the former they would allot 200, and to the latter 300 as a maximum, making a total of 500 inmates under the same physician in chief and the same general administration, but each division separately served by its own staff and specially organized. § _increase of the medical staff of asylums._ in the next place, the medical staff of an asylum should be large enough to secure daily medical observation and attendance for each individual patient, along with a complete supervision of his moral condition, his amusements and employment. we have said that this provision is deficient in many english asylums, a statement amply confirmed by the opinions of others. dr. kirkbride (_op. cit._ p. 44) lays it down as a rule, that "where there are 250 patients, especially if there is a large proportion of recent cases, besides the chief physician, two assistant physicians will be required, one of whom should perform the duties of apothecary. in some institutions, one assistant physician and an apothecary will be sufficient. if the full time of two assistant physicians, however, is taken up by their other duties among the patients, an apothecary may still be usefully employed in addition; and to him, other duties among the male patients may with propriety be assigned." french writers coincide in these views. m. parchappe assigns to an asylum containing 200 to 250 patients, a physician with an assistant, besides a dispenser; to one having 300 to 360 inmates, a physician, two assistants and a dispenser, besides a director to superintend the general administration, who in some institutions is also a medical man. in germany, and generally in italy, the medical staff is still larger in proportion to the number of patients. jacobi apportions to an asylum for 150 or 200 lunatics, a chief physician, a second, and an assistant, besides the dispenser. roller coincides with this, and the asylum at illenau under his superintendence, consisting of two divisions, one for recent, the other for chronic cases, and containing in all 414 patients, has three physicians besides two assistants or 'internes.' so at leubus, in silesia, there are three physicians, although the inmates are only 150 in number; and the rule is, in other german asylums, containing 100 inmates, to have two physicians, besides one or two internes and a dispenser (pharmacien). allowing the opinions and practice of the eminent men quoted, and which in truth are shared in by every asylum superintendent, their due weight, it would seem no extravagant arrangement to allot to an asylum accommodating from 150 to 200 patients (recent and chronic cases together), a physician superintendent and an assistant; and a similar medical staff to an institution for 300 or 350 inmates, all in a state of confirmed chronic insanity, imbecility, and dementia. if the population in an asylum for chronic cases is further augmented to 450 or 600,--the latter number we hold to represent the maximum which can economically and with a just regard to efficient government and supervision and to the interests of the patients, be brought together in one establishment,--the medical superintendent will require the aid of two assistants and a dispenser. such aggregations as of 1000 to 2000 insane people are unwieldy and unmanageable with the best appointed medical staff, unless this be so numerous as utterly to invalidate the plea of economy, the only one, fallacious as it is, that can be produced by the advocates for their existence. and not only are they unmanageable, but also hygienically wrong; for it is a well-recognized fact, that the accumulation of large numbers of human beings in one place, tends to engender endemic disease, uniformly deteriorates the health, and favours the onset, progress, and fatality of all disorders. the history of large asylums bears testimony to the truth of this; for cholera has scourged more than one most severely, and dysentery and chronic or obstinate diarrhoea are pretty constant visitants in their wards. the contrast between the opinions and practice of the distinguished men referred to and those of some committees of visitors respecting the value of medical attendance on the insane, the nature of the duties to be performed, and the amount of labour the superintendent of an asylum may accomplish, is most remarkable. what those of the former are, is stated already; what those held by the latter are, we have an illustration in the administration of the colney hatch and of the hanwell asylums. in the latter establishment we find two medical men appointed to superintend 1020 insane inmates, besides nearly 200 persons employed about it. true, we are informed by the committee, that the superintendent of the female department, who has the larger number, some 600, under his charge, is _assisted_ by the _matron_; and we are sure he must be thankful for any assistance rendered him; yet it is the first time that we have been called upon to recognize a matron as an assistant medical officer. however, we must accept it as a fact,--gratefully we cannot,--but with a protest against placing a subordinate officer on such an independent footing, against entrusting her with duties incompatible with her education and position, and with the relations which should subsist between her and the superintendent, and against making her his equal in the remuneration for her services. did occasion offer, we might ponder over this new development of the matronly office; inquire respecting the medical qualifications demanded, and the manner in which the hanwell committee have ascertained them; and meditate at length on the notions which govern the visiting justices in organizing and directing an asylum; but for the present, we will, for further example's sake, note some of their opinions and doings in the management of the sister 'refuge for lunatics' at colney hatch. we shall, for this purpose, appeal to the report for 1856, and to make the quotations used intelligible, will premise, that the steward, at that date, had turned architect, and produced a plan for the extensive enlargement of the asylum as proposed by the magistrates; and that, very naturally, when writing about it, he was intent to prove that his plan was the best, the cheapest and the most convenient even to the medical superintendents who would be called upon to officiate in it when completed. this much being premised, we will quote the steward's own words. "i must also remind the committee," he observes, "that some three years since it was with them a matter of serious deliberation, whether it was advisable that the male and female departments should be placed under the care of one medical superintendent, and, in fact, whether _one medical officer_ should have the _supervision and direction of 1250 inmates_, and an extended range of building; or whether the two departments should continue, as they are at present, separate and distinct." what an excellent insight does this revelation of the cogitations of the committee-room of the middlesex magistrates afford us of the sentiments these gentlemen entertain of the requirement and value of medical skill in an asylum; of the capacity, bodily and mental, of a superintendent for work! but, without waiting to fill up a sketch of the wondrous virtues and faculties which the superintendent of the 1250 insane patients need to possess in order to know all, supervise them, direct them, and attend to the multitudinous duties of his office as a physician and director, we will by a further extract gather clearer notions of the extent of the work thought to be not too much for him. the gist of the ensuing paragraph is, that the steward strives to prove that by adding a new story here and there, besides spurs from the previous building, he will increase greatly the accommodation without much augmenting the ambulatory labours of the medical officer. and alluding to one, the male division of the establishment, he proceeds to argue, that "if it is considered feasible for one person to superintend 1250 patients of both sexes in a _building extending_ from one extreme to the other, _nearly two-thirds of a mile_, would it not be equally feasible to superintend 840 patients in a building one half the extent [here mr. steward forgets to count the number of furlongs added by his proposed new wards], provided they are conveniently and safely located, although these patients are all males?" to this we may be allowed to subjoin some remarks we penned in a critique published in the 'asylum journal' (vol. ii. p. 271) for 1856, and in which many of the observations contained in the present work were briefly sketched. "who, we ask, can dispute the feasibility of a medical or of any other man superintending 840, 1250, or two or three thousand patients, collected in an asylum or in a town, in the capacity of a director or governor, if subordinate agents in sufficient number are allowed him? but we think the question in relation to asylums is not, how we can govern our insane population most easily and at the least possible cost, but by what means can we succeed in curing the largest number of cases of insanity as they arise, and thus permanently keep down expenditure and save the rates. these results are certainly not to be attained by persevering in the old scheme of congregating lunatics by tens of hundreds, but by making suitable provision for the immediate treatment of the pauper insane in asylums properly organized for it, and under the direction of a sufficient medical staff." how totally different, too, are the views of jacobi to those of the middlesex magistrates concerning the office of superintendent, and the extent of work of which he is capable! in his treatise on asylum construction (tuke's translation, p. 23), he presents the following sensible remarks:--"it is not that i should consider a more numerous family (than 200) incompatible with the right management of the farming and household economy, nor with the domestic care of the patients; both these might perhaps be organized in an establishment containing a number equal to the largest just named (four or six hundred), in such a manner as to leave nothing to be desired; but it is in regard to the higher government of the establishment, and the treatment of the patients as such, in its widest signification, which must rest upon the shoulders of a single individual,--the director of the establishment,--that i am convinced the number of patients should not exceed two hundred. for when it is considered that the duties of the governor embrace the control of all the economical and domestic arrangements, as well as of the whole body of officers and servants; that he must devote a great share of his time to the writing, correspondence, and consultations connected with his office; that as first physician, he is entrusted with the personal charge and medical treatment of every individual committed to his care; that he must daily and hourly determine, not only the general outlines, but the particular details of the best means for promoting the interests of the collective community, as well as of every separate person composing it; and that, besides all this, he is responsible to science for the results of his medical observations in the establishment over which he presides; nor less so for the promotion of his own advancement as a man and a philosopher;--it will be readily granted, that the given maximum of two hundred patients for a single establishment ought never to be exceeded. indeed, a man of even extraordinary abilities would find himself unequal to the task of discharging these duties, in an establishment containing two hundred patients, were he not supported by such assistance as will hereafter be described; and were there not a great number amongst even this multitude of patients requiring not constant, or at least, a less degree of medical attention." many writers on asylum organization, particularly those of the continent, insist very strongly on so far limiting the size of asylums for the insane, that they may be superintended by one chief medical officer, aided indeed by assistants, but without colleagues of coordinate powers. the venerable jacobi took this view, and desired that the director of an asylum should be the prime authority in all its details of management, and insisted that the institution should not by its size overmatch his powers to superintend it and its inmates as individuals. thus, after reviewing the nature of the duties devolving on the chief physician, he observes (p. 192, tuke's translation), "it follows as a necessary consequence that one man must be placed at the head of the establishment," ... and that "his mind must pervade the whole establishment." likewise m. parchappe joins in the same opinion; and after speaking (des principes, p. 43) of the impossibility of proper medical supervision in a very large asylum, observes, "that to divide the medical direction among two or more physicians is extremely detrimental to the superiority which the medical superintendent ought to hold in the general administration of asylums, and to that unity of purpose and opinions required in the interests of the patients." without citing other foreign writers to substantiate the view under consideration, we may call attention to the fact, that the lunacy commissioners, who have always so stoutly advocated the position of the medical officer as the superintendent of an asylum, likewise appear to accept the same principle; for in their eleventh report (p. 11), they remark, that besides the direct injury inflicted upon patients when congregated in excessive numbers in the same institution, "experience has of late years shown, that the absence of a single and undivided responsibility is equally injurious to the general management." lastly, the committee of visitors of the surrey county asylum appear,--judging from their recent appointment of a chief physician to their institution, paramount to the medical officers of the divisions, and invested with full powers as director,--to have arrived at the just conviction that there must be unity and uniformity in the management of an institution. however, we regret to say that this conviction is unaccompanied by that other which jacobi and parchappe would associate with it, viz. that the size of the asylum should be no larger than will admit of the chief physician acquainting himself with every case individually, and treating it accordingly. whilst, indeed, by their proceeding, they constitute the chief physician a governor of a large establishment, and the director of the household and of its economy, they at the same time deprive him of his professional character by removing the opportunities of exhibiting it beyond his reach, both by the relations they place him in to the other medical officers, and by the enormous aggregation of patients they surround him with. few objections, we presume, are to be found to the principle of having a chief medical officer paramount to all others engaged in the work of an asylum; and although, considered as a _medical superintendent_, his professional qualities are not in much requisition in so large an institution as the surrey county asylum, yet we regard such an appointment as most desirable, and as preferable to the system of dividing the management between two medical officers, as pursued in the middlesex county asylums. indeed, the value of the principle of concentrating power in the hands of a chief officer, under the name of governor, or of some equivalent term, is recognized by its adoption in large institutions of every sort in the country. such enormous asylums as those referred to, partake rather of the nature of industrial than of medical establishments. their primary object is to utilize the population as far as practicable, and this end can be attained in a large majority of the inmates; consequently an able director is of more consequence than a skilful physician; for the latter is needed by a very small minority, by such a section, in fact, as is represented by the inmates of a workhouse infirmary only compared with its entire population. therefore, since the enormous asylums in existence are not to be got rid of, it is desirable to give them an organization as perfect as practicable; and it is under this aspect that we approve the plan of the surrey magistrates in appointing a director paramount to every other officer. the approval of this proceeding, however, does not minish aught from our objections to such enormous institutions, considered as curative asylums for the insane. as a refuge for chronic lunatics, an asylum so organized and superintended as is the surrey, may subserve a useful purpose; but we hold it to be an unsuitable place for recent cases demanding treatment as individuals suffering from a curable disease, and requiring the exercise of the skill and experience of a _medical_ man _specially_ directed to it. while the system of congregating so many hundreds of lunatics in one establishment, and the magisterial principle of providing for the care and maintenance and of non-intervention in the individual treatment of the insane prevail, no objection can be taken to the practice of committees of visitors in according the first merit when candidates come forward for the office of medical superintendent of an asylum, to qualifications for the routine government of large masses, for the allotment of labour, for the regulation of the domestic economy of a house, for the profitable management of the farm; in short, for qualities desirable in a governor of a reformatory-school or prison. indeed, they are right in so doing, when they wish to have a well-disciplined and profitably worked asylum; and when their institution attains the dignity of a lunatic colony, it is the best course they can adopt, for medical qualifications in such an establishment sink into insignificance amidst the varied details of general administration, which fall to the lot of the superintendent. but the case would be materially changed were the primary object of an asylum the successful treatment of its inmates, and were its dimensions within the limit to afford its superintendent the opportunity to know all, and to treat all its patients as individuals to be benefited by his professional skill. in selecting the physician of such an asylum, the administrative and agricultural qualifications he might possess, though far from being unnecessary or unimportant, should occupy a secondary place in the estimation of committees of visitors; and the primary requirement should be the possession of properly certified medical skill, of experience in the nature and treatment of insanity, in the wants and management of the insane, and of asylums for them; of evident interest and zeal in his work, and of those intellectual and moral endowments adapted to minister to the mind diseased, to rule by kindness and forbearance, and at the same time with the firmness of authority. chap. vii.--on the future provision for the insane. the only apology permissible for detaining lunatics in workhouses, is that there is no asylum accommodation for them to be had; and the only one attempted on behalf of the construction of colossal asylums is, that the demands for admission and the existing numbers are so many, and the majority of cases chronic and incurable, that the most economical means of providing for them must be adopted, which means are (so it is supposed) found in aggregating masses under one direction and one commissariat. now, whilst we have, on the one hand, contended that workhouses should be as soon as possible disused as receptacles for the insane, we have, on the other hand, endeavoured to prove that very large asylums are neither economical nor desirable, especially if the cure of lunatics, and not their custody only, is contemplated by their erection. indeed the attempt to keep pace in providing accommodation for the insane poor with their multiplication by accumulation and positive increase or fresh additions, has failed, according to the mode in which the attempt has hitherto been made. new asylums have been built and old ones enlarged throughout the country, and between 1843 and the end of 1857, the accommodation in them had been increased threefold; whilst, at the same time, pauper lunatics had so multiplied, that their number in licensed houses remained almost the same, and the inmates of workhouses and chargeable imbeciles and idiots residing with their friends or with strangers, had very largely increased. the history of pauper lunacy in middlesex furnishes one of the most striking commentaries upon the system pursued to provide for its accumulation, and on its failure. "when (we quote the 11th report of the commissioners in lunacy, 1857, p. 12), in 1831, hanwell was built for 500 patients, it was supposed to be large enough to meet all the wants of the county. but, two years later, it was full; after another two years, it was reported to contain 100 patients more than it had been built for; after another two years, it had to be enlarged for 300 more; and at this time (colney hatch having been meanwhile constructed for the reception of 1200 lunatic paupers belonging to the same county) hanwell contains upwards of 1000 patients. colney hatch was opened in 1851; within a period of less than five years, it became necessary to appeal to the rate-payers for further accommodation; and the latest returns show that, at the close of 1856, there were more than 1100 pauper lunatics belonging to the county unprovided for in either of its asylums." at this conjuncture the commissioners proposed a third asylum, so that they might, "by a fresh classification and redistribution of the patients, not only deal with existing evils universally admitted, but guard against a recurrence of evils exactly similar, by restoring to both asylums their proper functions of treatment and care." however, instead of adopting this wise policy, the committee of visitors insisted on following out their old scheme of adding to the existing asylums, in the vain hope of meeting the requirements of the county; and have proceeded to increase the accommodation of hanwell to upwards of 1600, and that of colney hatch asylum to nearly 2100 beds. yet let them be assured they have taken a very false step, and that though they heap story on story and add wing to wing, they will be unable to keep pace with the demands of the pauper lunatics of the county; nor will they succeed in the attempt, until they make the curative treatment of the insane the first principle in their official attempts to put into execution those lunacy laws confided to their administration by the legislature. perceiving that this scheme of adding to asylums until they grow into small towns defeats the object of such institutions as places of treatment and cure, and that it will continue to fail, as it has hitherto failed, to supply the demands for accommodation, the commissioners remarked in their last (12th) report, that "a scheme of a far more comprehensive nature" is called for to meet increasing events. they have not hinted in that report at any scheme, but we may gather from other similar documents, especially from that of 1857, that one important plan they have in view is to remove a large number of chronic, imbecile and idiotic patients from the existing, expensively built and organized asylums, and to place them in others erected, adapted and organized for their reception at a much less cost. by this means they count both on rendering the asylums generally, now in existence, available as curative institutions for the reception of new cases as they arise, and on arresting the tendency and the need to erect such enormous edifices as do discredit to the good sense of the magistrates of the counties possessing them. we agree with the commissioners in the general features of the plan advanced, and indeed, in our notice of the reports of the middlesex county asylums, in 1856 (asylum journal, vol. ii. p. 354 _et seq._), advocated the establishment in that county of a third asylum especially for the treatment of the recent cases as they occurred. now the adoption of any such plan implies the recognition of a principle which has been very much discussed, viz. that of separating one portion of a number of insane people from another, as less curable or incurable. however, the commissioners in lunacy avoid discussion, and treat the matter in its practical bearings; still a brief critical examination of it will not be here misplaced. § _separate asylums for the more recent and for chronic cases._ the proposition of placing recent and chronic cases of lunacy in distinct establishments is often so put as to beg the question. it is asked if any one can undertake to say categorically that any case of insanity is incurable, and thereupon to transfer it to an asylum for incurables? to the question thus put every humane person will reply in the negative; he will start at the idea of consigning an afflicted creature, conscious of his fate, to an abode, which, like dante's inferno, bears over its portal the sentence, "abandon hope all ye who enter here." but a solution thus extorted is in no way a reply to the question of the expediency or inexpediency of making a distinction in place and arrangement for the treatment of recent and of chronic cases of lunacy severally; for this is a matter of classification, and one particularly and necessarily called for, where the insane are aggregated in large numbers, and the conditions of treatment required for the great mass of chronic cases are insufficient for the well-being of the acute. the real practical questions are,--1, cannot the subjects of recent insanity be separated advantageously, and with a view to their more effectual and successful treatment, from a majority of the sufferers from chronic insanity, imbecility and fatuity, and particularly so where the total number of the asylum inmates exceeds the powers of the medical officer to study and treat them as individuals? and, 2, does not the separation of the very chronic, and according to all probability, the incurable, afford the opportunity to provide suitably for the care of that vast multitude of poor lunatics, at present denied asylum accommodation; and to effect this at such an expenditure, as renders it practicable to do so, and thereby to meet the present and future requirements of the insane? several eminent psychologists have taken up the question of separating recent and probably curable cases from others found in asylums, in an abstract point of view, as if it were equivalent to forming an absolute decision on the grand question of the curability or incurability of the patients dealt with; and, as a matter of course, their adverse view of the subject has found numerous abettors. the subject is, however, well deserving of examination _de novo_, in the present juncture, when some decided scheme must be agreed to for the future provision of the insane, and for repairing the consequences of past errors. in the first place, let us ask, are the harrowing descriptions of the deep depression and despair felt by patients on their removal after one or two or more years' residence in a curative asylum to another occupied by chronic cases, true and sketched from nature? we think not. writers have rather portrayed the sensations they would themselves, in the possession of full consciousness and of high sensibility, experience by a transfer to an institution as hopelessly mad, and have overlooked both the state of mental abasement and blunted sensibility which chronic insanity induces in so many of its victims, and still more the fact that no such absolute and universal separation of acute and chronic, as they picture to their minds, is intended. indeed, we believe that, even among patients who retain the consciousness and the powers of reflection to appreciate the transfer, no such lively despair as authors depict is felt. in the course of our experience at st. luke's hospital, we have seen many patients discharged 'uncured' after the year's treatment in that institution, and transferred to an asylum, without noting the painful and prejudicial effects on their mental condition supposed. disappointment too is felt by patients rather at discovering that on their discharge from one asylum they are to be transferred to another, instead of being set at liberty and returned to their homes; for few of the insane recognize their malady, and they will think much less about the character of the asylum they are in, than their confinement and restricted liberty. again, it is not at all necessary to contrast the two institutions, by calling the one an asylum for curables, and the other an asylum for incurables; indeed, such a class as incurables should never be heard of, for we are not called upon to define it. the two asylums might be spoken of as respectively intended for acute and for chronic cases; or the one as an hospital, the other as an asylum for the insane; or better still, perhaps, the one as the primary (for primary treatment), and the other as the secondary institution. the removal, and the date at which it should take place, should be left to the discrimination of the medical officer. no period need be fixed at which treatment in the primary institution should be given up; the nature, the prospects, and the requirements of a case must determine when treatment therein should be replaced by treatment in the secondary asylum. moreover, no barrier should be opposed to a reversed transfer; a trial in another institution is often beneficial, and it would be an advantage to have the opportunity of making it. in the removal from the hospital to the asylum there would be no declaration that the patient was incurable, but only that his case was such as not longer to require the special appliances of the former, although it still needed the supervision of an asylum, and a perseverance in a course of treatment and nursing fully and particularly supplied by the resources of the latter. the determination of the cases proper for the secondary asylum lodged in the physician's hands would always enable him to retain those in the primary one, whose state, though chronic, would in his opinion be injuriously affected by a transfer, and any such others besides whose presence in the wards he might deem an advantage in the management. we mention the latter, because the opponents to separation insist on the benefits to an asylum accruing from the admixture of recent and chronic cases. and although we are not prepared to deny an opinion held by so many eminent men, yet we are on the other side not at all persuaded that the presence of old inmates is of any such real advantage, as supposed, to newly-introduced ones. we can assert, from experience, that recent cases can be very satisfactorily treated without the company of old ones; and we must, moreover, confess to certain misgivings that the actual presence of a long-standing case, often eloquent on the injustice of his detention, a job's comforter to the new-comer, by his remarks on the severity of his disorder, with the assertion added, that there was nothing the matter with the speaker's self when he came into the house; full of gossip about all the mishaps of the place, and often exercising an annoying superiority and authority assumed on account of his position as one of the oldest inhabitants. to the statement of the value of their service in aiding the attendants and in watching their neighbours, we rejoin, there should be attendants enough to perform the duties of supervision; that many recent are equally serviceable as chronic cases, and stand in need of being encouraged by the attendants in taking part in those many minor details which characterize life in the wards of an asylum. however this question of the utility of mixing chronic and recent patients together may be solved, we do not contemplate the existence of a primary asylum without the presence of more or fewer chronic cases, retained in it for the best medical and moral reasons. likewise, on the other hand, the secondary asylum will not so exclusively be the abode of incurables. the lapse of time in a case of insanity most potently affects its chances of recovery, but it is not an invariable obstacle to it; for experience decidedly demonstrates that recovery may take place years after every hope of it has passed away, and that patients rally from their affliction, not after four or five years only, but even after ten and twenty; consequently, among the large number of chronic patients under treatment, there would doubtless be every year some restored to reason and to liberty; and the dreaded foreboding of perpetual confinement and hopeless incurability could not take possession of the minds even of those whose perceptions rendered them conscious of their condition and position. to arrive at a correct judgment on this matter, let us look into it from another point of view, and compare the condition of a lunatic in the proposed chronic asylum with that of one in a large county asylum, conducted according to the prevailing system. look to the fact, that in some of the existing large curative (?) asylums, not more than from 7 to 12 per cent. of their six or eight hundred, or one thousand inmates, are deemed curable, and say in what respect a patient introduced into an establishment of the sort, surrounded on every side by crowds of chronic lunatics, enjoys any superiority over one transmitted to a secondary asylum of the description we contemplate. call such an institution what we may, announce it as a curative asylum, or as an hospital for curables, it matters not; to a fresh-comer it has all the drawbacks of a chronic asylum; for if he be alive to his condition, and can reflect on the position and circumstances in which he is placed, he may well find grounds for discouragement and despair on looking round the gigantic building, overflowing with the victims of chronic insanity, many of appearance, habits, and manners, repugnant to the higher and better feelings of any thinking, reflecting mortal; who count their residence there by years and even tens of years, with no prospect of release, and who, it may be in his imagination, are not, or have never been, so afflicted as himself. can such a spectacle be otherwise than injurious to a recent case, sufficiently well to perceive it on admission, or coming to appreciate it during convalescence? and must not the recognition of his position by the patient be most painful and discouraging as one of a multitude, eliciting personally, except perhaps for the few first days, no more attention than the most crazy old inmate near him; submitted to the same daily routine, and having no superior with sufficient time on hand to hear at large his tale of woe, to soothe his irritated spirit, or to encourage him in his contest with his delusions and fears? if the case of the new-comer be chronic, the conditions he finds himself placed in are sufficiently distressing and annoying; but if it be recent and curable, they are damaging to his chance of recovery. the comparison just drawn tells in favour of the system of separation. recent cases would not, in the primary institution or hospital, find themselves an insignificant few surrounded by a host of chronic patients, and they would accordingly escape the evils of such a position; on the contrary, they would be placed under the most favourable conditions for recovery, be individually and efficiently attended to, and encouraged by the many convalescents around them to hope and strive after their own restoration to health and liberty. the sketch presented of the evils of the companionship of long-disordered inmates with new-comers, especially when those are melancholic, is not an imaginary one, but drawn from experience. often will a desponding patient observe, 'i shall become like such or such moping, demented lunatic'; and superintendents, if they would, might often record the ill-effects of example of older inmates upon those newly admitted. attempts by means of classification somewhat mitigate, where made, the evils of large asylums for recent cases, by keeping these to a certain measure apart from most of the other lunatics; but nothing can do away with the injurious impression on a mind sufficiently awake to receive it (on such a one, in short, as the question of the place of treatment can alone concern),--of being one member of many hundreds who have for years and years known no other residence than the huge house of detention they are in: and there is no compensation to be had for the loss of those special appliances, and that individual treatment, which only a properly-organized hospital can supply. the last clause suggests another important argument for the treatment of recent cases in a distinct establishment or in separate sections. it is, that they require a peculiar provision made for them, involving greater expense, a more complete medical staff, a physician accustomed to their supervision and management, unfettered by that host of general duties which the presence of a multitude of chronic patients entails, and a staff of attendants disciplined to their care, and possessing many of the qualifications of nurses. moreover, the building itself for this class of patients need be more expensively constructed and fitted than one for chronic inmates. there is yet another reason against largely extending the size of a county asylum, and in favour of building, in the place of so doing, a distinct structure. this reason is to be found in the influence of distance as an obstacle to the transmission of the insane to an asylum for treatment, and to the visits of their friends to them during their confinement. the lunacy commissioners of the state of massachusetts particularly remarked the operation of distance in debarring insane patients from treatment, and illustrated it by a table showing the numbers received from different places within the district it served, and in relation to their population, into the asylum. likewise in this country, where the distance of the asylum is considerable, it is a reason for delay on the part of the parochial officers, who wish to avoid incurring the expense of removing the case, if they can in any way manage it in the workhouse. but the evil of remoteness operates more frequently, and with much cruelty, against the visits of poor persons to see their afflicted relatives in asylums. many can neither undertake the cost, nor spare the time required for the journey, notwithstanding the modern facilities of travelling. the same evil is likewise an impediment to the visits of parochial officers, who rightly possess a sort of legal guardianship over their lunatic poor in asylums. lord shaftesbury, in his evidence before the select committee, 1859, very properly dwelt upon the advantages of visits from their friends to lunatics in asylums, and even proposed to make their visits compulsory by act of parliament. the commissioners in lunacy also, in their twelfth report (1858), gave examples of the distress not unfrequently attending on the separation of the patient in an asylum at a long distance from his friends. such distress operates to the disadvantage of the patient, and increases the sorrow of his relatives. admitting there are advantages attending the multiplication of asylums instead of aggregating lunatics in very large ones, it would appear the correct policy for boroughs to build asylums for the refuge of their own insane; or, where small, to unite with other boroughs in the county for the same purpose, in place of contributing to the county-establishment, and inducing the magistrates to extend its size injuriously. in a case such as that of middlesex, where the county asylums have attained such an unwieldy size as to be past acting as curative institutions, it would seem no improper extension of the law to make it imperative upon the large metropolitan boroughs to build apart for their own pauper lunatics. of this we are persuaded, that it would soon be found to the profit of the boroughs to undertake to provide for their own pauper insane. we regret that, in advocating the separation of chronic from recent cases, we place ourselves in antagonism to many distinguished men who have devoted themselves to the care of the insane, and among others to our former teacher and respected friend dr. conolly, from whose clinical visits and lectures at the hanwell asylum, many years ago, we derived our first lessons, in the management and treatment of the insane. but although regretting some divergence of opinion on this point, we are confident of his readiness to subscribe to that maxim of a liberal philosophy, expressed by the latin poet, "_nullius addictus jurare in verba magistri_." to return from this digression: there are two propositions to be established, viz.--1. that there are many cases of chronic mental disorder to be found in every county asylum, which encumber it, to the prejudice and exclusion of recent cases, and which could, without mental pain or damage, or any tangible disadvantage, be removed from the institution considered as a curative one. 2. that less elaborate structural adaptations, and a less expensive organization, would suffice for the proper care and treatment of a large number of chronic cases. let it be understood, however, that neither in past nor future remarks is it our intention to argue against the existence of mixed asylums altogether,--for by careful classification in a moderately-sized establishment, a zealous physician, properly assisted, may contrive to do his duty, both towards the comparatively few acute, and the many chronic cases under his charge; but against the pretence of admitting recent patients for curative treatment in monster institutions filled with chronic cases, where individual daily recognition is all but impracticable, efficient medical supervision unattainable, and proper medical and moral treatment impossible. deferring for the present the inquiry, under what conditions of the insane population of a county should distinct asylums be constructed, let us see what are the views of the lunacy board bearing upon the two propositions put forth, and examine further into the means of providing for the future wants of the insane. so long since as 1844, the then metropolitan commissioners in lunacy advised the institution of distinct asylums for the more chronic cases of insanity (report, p. 92), and thus expressed themselves:--"it seems absolutely necessary that distinct places of refuge should be provided for lunatic patients who have become incurable. the great expenses of a lunatic hospital are unnecessary for incurable patients: the medical staff, the number of attendants, the minute classification, and the other requisites of a hospital for the cure of disease, are not required to the same extent. an establishment, therefore, upon a much less expensive scale would be sufficient." an exception might be taken to the wording of this paragraph, as assumptive of incurability being an absolute condition, and as countenancing the scheme of a refuge distinctly provided for incurables; both of them ideas repugnant to the humane mind, instructed by experience, that insanity, at almost any lapse of time, and under most forms, is not to be pronounced absolutely incurable, or beyond the hope of cure. the scope of the argument adduced can, however, not be objected to, for it will be generally admitted that less expensive institutions are needed for very chronic cases in general, and that it is an important object to clear the present curative asylums of such cases, so as to facilitate the admission and the early treatment of recent patients. the present lunacy board, in their tenth report, 1856, repeated these views, and pointed out the importance of erecting detached buildings in connexion with the offices used for the different occupations pursued in the establishment, instead of adding new stories, or new wings, to the main building. in the report for the following year (1857), the commissioners returned to the subject, in connexion with the proposed enlargement of the middlesex county asylums; and, having remarked on the rapid accumulation and crowding of those refuges with chronic cases, so soon after that at colney hatch was opened, thus write (p. 13):--"manifestly the remedy now was, not to exaggerate the mistake already committed, by additions on the same costly scale for purposes to which they would be as inappropriate; but, by a fresh classification and redistribution of the patients, not only to deal with existing evils, universally admitted, but to guard against a recurrence of evils exactly similar, by restoring to both asylums their proper functions of treatment and care. it had become not more matter of justice to the lunatics themselves, than of consideration for the rate-payers, to urge, that the additional accommodation required being for classes of patients, as to whom, for the most part, small hope of cure remained, might be supplied in an asylum much better suited to them, and of a far less costly character." at a subsequent page (p. 23), they recur to the theme. after pointing out that the plan of placing chronic, and presumed harmless patients taken out of asylums, in workhouses and "in their private homes," had signally failed, they observe:--"we are, therefore, brought back to the conclusion already stated ..., to which we find all reasoning upon the subject necessarily converge, and which we desire to impress as strongly as possible upon every one to whom the care of the insane is committed, that a new, and less costly kind of provision is now very generally required for large classes of pauper lunatics, to whom the existing expensive structures are unsuited. "our last report directed attention to the fact, that in providing, not merely for the harmless and demented, but for the more orderly and convalescing, the most suitable was also the least expensive mode; that they might satisfactorily be placed in buildings more simple in character, and far more economically constructed; and that therefore it was advisable, wherever the necessity for enlarging one of the existing asylums presented itself, that the question should be considered in reference to these two kinds of patients. and whether the mode adopted may be, for the convalescing, by simple and cheerful apartments detached from the main building, and with opportunity for association with the officials engaged in industrial pursuits; or, for harmless and chronic cases, by auxiliary rooms near the out-buildings, of plain or ordinary structure, without wide corridors or extensive airing-court walls, and simply warmed and ventilated; it is, we think, become manifest that some such changes of structure must be substituted for the system now pursued, if it be desired to retain the present buildings in their efficiency, and to justify the outlay upon them by their continued employment as really curative establishments. in this way only, as it seems to us, can justice be done to the rate-payer as well as to the pauper." lastly, in their supplementary report on lunatics in workhouses (1859), they repeat their recommendations to erect distinct inexpensive buildings for chronic cases. the paragraph containing their suggestion has already been quoted (p. 82), and need not be repeated here. the noble chairman of the lunacy board, according to his valuable evidence given before the special committee of lunatics, just printed, appears to have been an early and constant advocate for constructing distinct receptacles for chronic and acute cases. in reply to query, no. 664, his lordship has more particularly enlarged upon the utility of the plan, and referred to the distinct proposition of the board in 1845, that it should be carried out by the committees of asylums. the scheme of separately providing for many chronic lunatics has also received the valued support of dr. boyd (seventh report, somerset asylum, p. 10), who appears to contemplate the erection of the proposed building contiguous to the existing asylum, so as to make use of the patients' labour "in preparing stone and lime, and in doing all the heavy part of the work," and to unite the two establishments under a common administration and commissariat, as a plan attended with considerable economical advantages. we do not deem it necessary to quote other authorities at large, in support of the system advocated; otherwise we might adduce many continental writers, especially among the germans. it is fair to add, however, that in france generally "mixed asylums" are the rule, and that a few of these contain five or six hundred inmates, but none, we are happy to say, have acquired the prodigious dimensions of several of our english asylums. moreover, the french system is to erect a number of detached buildings, or sections within the general area of the establishment, adapted to the different classes of the insane, according to the character of their disease, or to their condition as pensioners or paupers. we cannot here discuss the advantages or disadvantages of this plan, but it certainly obviates some of the evils of aggregation evidenced in english asylums, consisting of one continuous structure. it has just been said, that in no french asylum are so many lunatics congregated as in some english institutions; yet it is true, that the great parisian hospices contain similar numbers; for instance, la salpêtrière holds as many as 1300; but in this case the arrangement is such, that each of the five sections it is divided into, constitutes practically a distinct hospital for the insane, structurally separated, or quite detached; with subordinate quarters or sections, to provide for a proper classification of the inmates, and having its own grounds for exercise, &c., and its own medical staff. thus, to the 1300 patients there are five physicians, having equal power and privileges, each one the head of his own section. we would not in any way adduce this extensive parisian hospice as an example to follow, either in structure or organization; and have alluded to it in so many words only to show, that though equally large in its population, it is comparable in no other respect to the huge receptacles for the insane to be found in this country. of the prevailing system in germany we shall presently find occasion to speak. lastly, the 8th & 9th vict. cap. 126, gave express powers to provide for the chronic insane in distinct establishments; in order, according to the marginal abstract to sect. xxvii., "to prevent exclusion from asylums of curable lunatics; separate provision to be made for chronic lunatics." the chronic asylums were again referred to in sect. xlii. and in sect. lvi., which conferred the necessary powers on the visitors to remove the patients from one asylum to another. it is not worth while to repeat the clauses referred to, since the act was repealed by the 16th & 17th vict. cap. 97, and no re-enactment of them took place. nevertheless, it is to be observed, that the last quoted act contemplated the provision of asylum accommodation for the whole of the lunatics of each county, and with this object, by sect. xxx., empowered the justices, at any general or quarter sessions, to cause, or to direct the committee of visitors of the county asylum to erect an additional asylum, or to enlarge the existing building, to supply the requisite accommodation; and further, put it into the power of a secretary of state, "upon the report of the commissioners in lunacy," to call upon the magistrates of any county or borough to do the same. this enactment may be enforced by the lunacy board so far as the secretary of state can prevail with a body of magistrates to accede to it, "in such manner as the said secretary of state may see fit, and direct." but this high official has no direct power to compel a committee of visitors under any sort of penalty. "it shall be lawful for such secretary of state," says the clause, "to require" such additional asylum alteration or enlargement; but the history of the contest between that public officer and the middlesex 'committee of visitors' appears to prove that his requisition may be neglected and set aside. "he found" (as lord shaftesbury tells us in his evidence, rep. select comm., query, no. 799), "that the passive resistance offered was beyond his power." we coincide with his lordship, that this ought never to have happened, and think, that the secretary of state, acting under the representations and advice of the lunacy commissioners, ought to be armed with full powers to enforce the provision for pauper lunatics in asylums being rendered equal to the demand for it, according to some plan agreed to by them, in every county, in harmony with the true intent and purpose of the act now in force. in order to facilitate the carrying out of this design, and to limit the scope for the passive resistance and attempted delay of some county magistrates, the re-enactment of the sections of the 8th & 9th vict. sect. 126, as quoted, appears desirable, viz. to sanction and promote the erection of distinct retreats for chronic cases. we are, indeed, glad to find, that in this recommendation we are also in accord with the noble lord at the head of the lunacy commission. looking at the matter in a general point of view, therefore, we appear to find, in the plan of separating the more chronic and most unpromising cases of lunacy from the recent and hopeful, so as to leave these in smaller numbers for the purpose of more direct and effectual treatment, one mode of improving and extending the future provision of the insane. however, to elucidate the scheme, we need go into further detail, so as to define more particularly the classes to be separately accommodated, and the extent to which the separation should be carried. the grand distinction, above employed, in discussing the question of separation, has been that of recent and chronic cases, and it has been sought to ignore that of curable and incurable, as not only undesirable, but actually mischievous. by recent cases, we understand all those where the malady is of less than one year's duration, which form a class that demands the more active and constant attention and treatment of the physician, more purely medical care, more consideration and watching from the attendants, ampler measures for moral treatment, and for exercising salutary impressions on the mind; and withal, special arrangements and fittings in the asylum building itself. all these particular conditions for treatment and management are not to be obtained by recent cases of insanity, as we have insisted on throughout this chapter, in asylums which have grown beyond the size which a chief medical officer can personally supervise in all its details, and, so to speak, animate the whole machine. if this be admitted, and if the cure of the insane be treated as the primary and essential object of asylum detention, then surely the necessity of special provision for recent cases will be recognized. in moderately sized asylums acute and chronic cases may be, as said before, received and treated together; for instance, in such as accommodate from 250 to 450 patients, provided that the physician-superintendent is properly assisted, for the proportion returned "as deemed curable" in the english county asylums,--a proportion which represents pretty nearly that of the recent cases, rarely exceeding 10 or 12 per cent.; consequently, the 40 or 50 demanding special supervision and medical care may be undertaken by the superintendent, if he be sufficiently assisted in the management of the chronic cases and in the carrying out of the general details of the establishment. on the other hand, a small, and perfectly distinct asylum for 40 or 50 patients could not be established or conducted so advantageously, and still less so economically; a circumstance, which will always avail to perpetuate the system of mixed asylums for acute and chronic cases together. nevertheless, it must be borne in mind, that the 40 or 50 patients in the population of 300 or 400, do not constitute the whole number of recently attacked cases which may be admitted for treatment, but, so to say, the residue at a particular date; for instance, the first day of the year. moreover, if the improvements in the law, and in its administration, suggested, are carried out, and the admission of patients immediately on the occurrence of their malady be facilitated, then, as a matter of course, the proportion of those "deemed curable" would be immensely increased; so much so, that it would be a very moderate estimate to reckon on 100 recent, to every 500 chronic cases; or, what is equivalent to this statement, the plan of placing patients under immediate treatment would cause the progressive decrease of chronic cases, and raise the standard of the asylum as a curative institution; a happy result, which, whilst it would necessitate a more complete medical staff, would at the same time well repay its cost. passing now to asylums which exceed the limits assigned as falling within the compass of the abilities of any physician to superintend effectually for the greatest benefit to its inmates, we hold the opinion, that where these amount to 600 or 900, the most just and humane, and in the end the most economical policy, is, to divide the establishment. yet even here, according to the present system regulating admissions, and the natural consequence of this, the small per-centage of acute cases under care at any one time, viz. from about 7 to 10 per cent. in the whole population, would perhaps be held to furnish too small a number to justify the cost of erection and maintenance of a wholly distinct hospital for their treatment. still we are confident that, if in any county where the pauper lunatics in asylums attained the number mentioned, a distinct institution for the reception of recently afflicted persons were erected, and the admission of such patients were promoted, if that institution were free as a public one for the insane other than paupers, such as those from among the middle classes, unable to meet the costs of a proper private asylum--it would secure to itself the number of patients needed to warrant its establishment as a distinct institution, succeed even as an economical arrangement, and confer an immense boon both on pauper lunatics and their more unfortunate fellows in affliction, who are too rich for the "pauper," and too poor for the "private" asylum. lastly, we come to the consideration of those overgrown establishments where from 1000 to 2000 lunatics are congregated under one roof. such monstrosities ought never to have been constructed; they are nevertheless looked upon by their promoters with admiration, and spoken of with pride, though there is nothing in them to admire besides their magnitude and pseudo-military discipline, and no more in them to be proud of as county institutions than in enormous prisons; for as the latter indicate the neglected morality of the county, so do the vauntedly large asylums prove the neglected treatment of insanity. however, as the erection of these unmanageable structures is an accomplished fact, nothing is left than to deplore the fatal mistake; to take care that it is not repeated in other instances, and to insist on the construction of distinct hospitals for recent cases. the very existence of such an hospital would invite resort to it, and bring within its agency many cases which do not find their way into the existing institutions until, most probably, all hope of cure is well nigh gone. moreover, just as mentioned above in reference to a proposed county hospital for lunatics, the law should intervene to secure the early transmission of all cases for treatment, and admission be granted to others besides paupers, under certain stipulations, by the payment of more or less of their cost. in counties with a population of lunatics of the extent named, the difficulty of placing the chronic and recent cases of insanity in separate asylums vanishes; for the latter will always be forthcoming in sufficient number to justify a distinct institution for their treatment both on medical and economical grounds; and the former, we apprehend, will always be found numerous enough to occupy the accommodation provided. as refuges for old cases, the evils of the existing gigantic establishments would happily be mitigated, although not removed, by appropriating them solely to the use of long-standing cases of lunacy. where the construction of a distinct hospital for recent cases of lunacy is decided on as necessary, it should certainly accommodate not more than 300. all patients should be admitted whose disease is of less than one year's duration; but this limitation should not be so absolute as to prevent the physician to admit, after the lapse of a longer period, any cases which might appear to him amenable to successful treatment;--a point in prognosis, taught, and only taught, by experience in dealing with recent insanity. although the great majority of the insane who recover, do so within the first year of their attack, yet statistics show that about 10 per cent. are restored in the course of the second year of treatment; it would therefore seem that two years would constitute a fair and sufficient period for the duration of residence in the primary asylum. here again the knowledge and experience of the physicians must be allowed scope, both to discharge certain cases within the period named, and to retain others beyond it. we should not consider it expedient to reject all cases of epilepsy and general paralysis forthwith upon their application, although insanity so complicated is generally very hopeless; for an asylum with special appliances for treatment would at least be desirable to the victims of those sad maladies in their early stages. it is unnecessary to define the classes of lunatics who would occupy the secondary asylums. as said before, we do not contemplate these institutions as mere places of refuge; we do not consider the attempt and the hope of cure relinquished in their wards, but that the means of treatment are diligently persevered with. we would have them to be neither hopeless retreats for patients, nor institutions calculated to encourage supineness or apathy on the part of their medical officers. indeed a slender objection we have met with against the separation of the recent from chronic patients, involves a slur upon the medical profession in supposing a lack of interest and energy as incumbent upon the superintendent of an asylum for chronic lunatics;--a supposition, which reflects unfairly upon, and is untrue with respect to many superintendents of asylums actually in existence. are not interest and zeal, we may ask, exercised for the benefit of those deemed incurable; are they not exercised on account of idiots even, for whom their absence might be esteemed not surprising? if cure is not attainable, the physician to the insane, unless unfit for his calling, seeks and finds his reward in ameliorating their condition; in elevating their mental and moral, and in improving their physical being. in those counties in which the number of the insane and the prevalence of insanity are not sufficiently extended as to justify the institution of a distinct curative asylum, the plan of the union of counties, as followed for the provision of the ordinary asylums, suggests itself to the mind. practically, however, we believe, it is a plan which would not answer, since it would render arrangements between counties in possession of asylums difficult, and their accounts complicated. the only way in which it could be made feasible would be by the levying of a general rate throughout the country for the maintenance of lunatics, and by dividing the country into districts, as is the practice in scotland and ireland, apportioned in size to the population, to each of which an asylum for chronic, and one for recent cases of insanity, might be assigned. such a scheme of a general rate, however, we do not expect to see realized, although many arguments are adducible in support of it. sir charles wood, when chancellor of the exchequer, made the proposition to contribute on behalf of the maintenance of asylums a portion of the proceeds of the general taxation of the country; but the scheme met with little favour, and was dropped. the principal objections advanced against it were, that it was wrong in principle, a novel and uncalled for attempt to interfere with local government, and no more to be justified than would be a contribution from the revenue of the country towards providing for the relief of any other form of disease. respecting the last objection, it is worth noting, that district dispensaries throughout ireland are partially supported by parliamentary grants; surely, therefore, if the principle of subsidizing hospitals or dispensaries is admitted in one part of the united kingdom, there can be nothing unreasonable in a proposition to extend it to another. where to provide for the lunatic population of a county considerably exceeds the legitimate dimensions of a single asylum, and yet the proportion of recent cases is too small to warrant the construction of a distinct institution for them, we have proposed the establishment of two asylums, each of a mixed character. under such circumstances, and likewise where a single asylum threatens to outgrow a manageable size, there are certain very advantageous arrangements to be made, adapted to secure much more efficient treatment, particularly of recent cases, than is usually provided under the present system of aggregating all under one roof to be subjected to one course of routine and discipline. these arrangements are effected by the § _construction of distinct sections to asylums._ the french system of asylum construction, as before noticed, is to divide the building into several, more or less, sometimes quite distinct sections, having a general administration and offices in common. the number of sections and the character of their residents is a matter of medical classification, and in each one there is a mixture of acute and chronic cases, just as in our asylum wards; the combination being regulated by the similarity in the phases of their malady, as, for instance, if refractory; if epileptic; if clean and orderly; or demented, paralytic and dirty. in germany, on the contrary, although this same medical classification is carried out, there is a primary separation of the insane of the province or state into acute and chronic. but in the mode of providing for the treatment of the two classes apart, two plans are pursued, one termed that of "absolute separation," and the other of "relative connexion" (relativ verbindung); the former consists in placing recent and chronic cases in buildings completely detached; each one having its own staff, organization and management; the latter, whilst keeping the chronic and recent cases apart, possesses a common medical and general administration in a building composed of two principal sections, either forming parts of the same structure (as at illenau, in baden), or detached, but within the same area (as at halle, in saxon prussia). damerow is the most able advocate of the system of relative connexion, on which he has largely written, and it is one which appears to be gaining ground in germany. now, except in the case of the overgrown middlesex asylums, where the lunacy commissioners distinctly recommended a third asylum to be erected, the plans propounded by that board for affording additional accommodation in institutions already large enough, are in principle much that of the "relative connexion" system as proposed by the germans. the reports above quoted, in connexion with the question of separating recent from chronic cases, show generally what the plans of the commissioners are. they would erect "detached day-rooms and associated dormitories near the wash-houses on the women's side, and the workshops and farm-buildings on the men's side." (10th report, 1856, p. 27.) to prove the advantages of the plan, they go on to say, "in making our visitations to the larger county asylums, we have repeatedly observed that a considerable portion of time is occupied by the servants, who have charge of the wash-house and workshop department, in merely collecting the patients in the wards, and in conducting them to and from their respective places of employment. in one asylum, we ascertained by minute inquiries that not less than one hour and a half was thus every day wasted by the servants, and was passed unprofitably and unpleasantly by the patients themselves. "in addition to the saving of cost and time obtained by adopting the plan we now recommend, we have the best reason for believing that the patients derived a direct benefit, in many ways, from residing in cheerful airy apartments detached from the main building, and associated with officials engaged in conducting industrial pursuits. a consciousness that he is useful, and thought worthy of confidence, is necessarily induced in the mind of every patient, by removal from the ordinary wards, where certain restrictions are enforced, into a department where he enjoys a comparative degree of freedom; and this necessarily promotes self-respect and self-control, and proves highly salutary in forwarding the patient's restoration. as a means of treatment, we consider this species of separate residence of the utmost importance, constituting in fact a probationary system for patients who are convalescing; giving them greater liberty of action, extended exercise, with facilities for occupation; and thus generating self-confidence, and becoming not only excellent tests of the sanity of the patient, but operating powerfully to promote a satisfactory cure. "the want of such an intermediate place of residence is always much felt; and it often happens, that a patient just recovered from an attack of insanity, and sent into the world direct from a large asylum, is found so unprepared to meet the trials he has to undergo, by any previous use of his mental faculties, that he soon relapses, and is under the necessity of being again returned within its walls." (p. 27, rep. 1856.) the proposition of the commissioners has been carried out to a certain extent in several large asylums; for instance, at the leicester, the wakefield, and the devon. at the last it has been most fully developed in the construction of a detached building for 100 patients; respecting the excellence and cheapness of which, we have spoken in a previous page (p. 48). the views of the commissioners will meet with general approval. the prevalent system in france of breaking up an asylum into sections, more or less detached, we hold as preferable to the close aggregation of wards under one roof, with continuous corridors, seen in the majority of english asylums. the correct principle to be pursued in an asylum is, to assimilate its character and arrangements as far as possible to those of the homes of the classes of persons detained in them. can this be effected in a large building constructed as much unlike ordinary houses as it well can be; recalling in its general character that of an extensive factory, workhouse, or barrack, of somewhat more ornate architecture indeed, and with better "belongings" within and without, where the patients live by day in long corridors, and sleep by night in boxes opening out of the same, and where perhaps they are mustered and marched in great force into a great hall to eat their meals? certainly all this is not home-like, however excellent to the lovers of routine or the admirers of military discipline. but the separation into sections greatly lessens this objectionable state of things; the population becomes thereby divided, so to speak, into families, overlooked and controllable as such. the advantage of transferring an improving patient from one ward to another is considerable; but it would be much more so, if the transfer were from one section to another; for the construction of separate sections admits of the architectural arrangements, the fittings, &c., being varied to a much greater extent than they can be in the case of wards, forming mere apartments of one large building, constructed, as it must be, on a nearly uniform plan. from the same grounds likewise follow the economical advantages of distinct sections; for the more expensive building arrangements required for acute cases need not be repeated in the section for quiet, orderly, chronic, or for convalescent patients, where accommodation may be beneficially made to accord as nearly as possible with that of their cottage homes. if detached sections were adopted, the elaborate, complicated and costly systems of warming and ventilation would not be needed; there would be less to cherish the feeling of imprisonment; and, lastly, to recal the valuable observation of the commissioners before quoted (p. 142), this species of separate residence would be a means of treatment "of the utmost importance, constituting in fact a probationary system," and a most excellent addition to the means of 'moral treatment' now in operation. there is one subsidiary recommendation made by the lunacy commissioners, which we cannot so freely subscribe to, that, viz. of classifying the patients in sections according to their occupations. those of the same trade or employment must, as a matter of course, be associated together, during the hours of labour; but at the expiration of those hours we would wish to see that association broken up. the congregation of the same mentally disordered persons always together is not desirable; the insane are selfish enough--absorbed in self, from the effects of their malady; and it should always be a point in treatment, to disturb this condition, to arouse the attention to others, and to other things; an effort which would be the more difficult in a small knot of people always accustomed to meet together, knowing each other's ways and whims, and each thinking the other mad, though not himself. again, if the workers are entirely separated from the drones in the hive, the latter are likely to remain drones still: they lose the benefit of example, which operates, as among children, so strongly with the insane. to apply these observations to one class of workers, for example, to the laundresses: it seems to us scarcely merciful to keep these poor patients to the wash-tub all day; at the close of their labour to turn them into an adjoining room, and at night consign them to sleep over it. instead of being thus scarcely allowed to escape the sphere and atmosphere of their toil, they should have their condition varied as far as possible, be brought into new scenes, mixed with others who have been otherwise engaged, and made to feel themselves patients in an asylum, and not washer-women. is it, in short, not a radical error in the direction of an asylum, to place the inmates in such a position and under such circumstances, as to make them feel themselves workmen under compulsion, regularly employed, dealt with only as labourers and artisans, by being kept all day in their workshops, and in the evening and night brought together, because they are workers, and unlike the other residents of the asylum, who will in their opinion come to be regarded, as unlike themselves,--as the fitting occupants, and the only patients? treated apart in the manner under notice, there would be nothing in the position or circumstances around the industrious inmate to suggest to him that he was a patient, except in name, as called so by the officials. we are, therefore, opposed to this _industrial system_ of classification, and regard medical classification as the only proper one. the division into quarters or sections is a plan more applicable to an asylum for chronic than to one for acute cases. in the latter, patients are to be treated specially and individually; and as sufferers from acute disease must be classified medically rather than with reference to any matters of management, occupation, and discipline, and are on the whole less conformable to general orders and plans: yet certain principal sections are wanted in them; as, for example, for the refractory and violent, for the quiet and orderly, and the convalescent. to some of the last named, a separate section, of a home-like character, regulated less as an asylum than as a family residence, and where the highest amount of liberty compatible with safety and order is the rule, would afford a most valuable means of treatment. § _distribution of the chronic insane in cottage homes._ the subdivision of an asylum for chronic cases could be carried very far. not only might sections be appropriated specially to idiots, to epileptics, to imbeciles, and to the very aged and infirm in an infirmary, but also to several classes of the chronic insane not falling under either of those categories, distinguishable by the greater or less amount of trust to be reposed in them, by their dispositions and tendencies, and by their industrious and moral habits. however, there must be at some point a limit to the utility of subdividing an establishment necessitated by the requirements of its administration and of an effective and easy supervision; and as yet, in this country, the system of aggregation prevails most largely over that of segregation. english asylums have, some of them, detached wards and a few farm-buildings, affording lodging to patients engaged in industrial pursuits; but the plan of segregating their residents has not been pushed farther, except to a small extent by dr. bucknill, who has placed some selected pauper lunatics in the homes of cottagers living in the vicinity of the county asylum; for we cannot call the boarding out of the imbecile poor--scattered, as it were, broad-cast over the country, disposed of in cottages, according to the notions of the inferior parochial officers, and watched over only nominally,--a system of providing for them. if system at all, it is merely one for putting them out of the way, of escaping responsibility, and of hiding them from observation. the colony of insane at gheel, in belgium, is the only one where the segregation of the insane has been systematically carried out. it presents most of the elements of success in its constitution and government. it has an organized medical staff; it is a naturally secluded locality; its sane inhabitants have been for ages accustomed to act as the guardians and nurses of the insane, and to receive them as boarders into their families. yet, notwithstanding the eulogiums of many visitors to this village, others who have more minutely examined into it have detected many irregularities, and pointed out weighty objections against its management. the questions may be fairly put,--are the irregularities inevitable? are the objections inseparable from the system? to discuss these points in detail would carry us far beyond the limits we must observe; but we may express our belief in the value of the system, considered as such, although we do not see how or where it can be applied to a similar extent as found at gheel. the irregularities which have been remarked are remediable, and the objections generally removeable. it is a defect at gheel, that there is no central establishment of the character of an asylum and infirmary, and it is a mistake to undertake the charge of recent and violent cases, and of epileptics for the most part, and likewise of paralytics, in cottages under cottagers' supervision only. other classes of patients might be pointed out as unfit residents in peasants' families. the system, in short, is pushed to an extreme in this place; but this error does not invalidate it as a system. objectionable cases for the cottage home could be collected in a central establishment, and there would be plenty left to partake of the "air libre et la vie de famille," which a recent physician of the colony of gheel, m. parigot, commended in his _brochure_ addressed to the consideration of the friends of the insane. many who have become acquainted with the system pursued at gheel have been enraptured by its many apparent advantages, the liberty it affords, and the great cheapness of its management, and have wished to import it as a whole into this country. such a scheme we regard as both impracticable and undesirable; yet we at the same time believe something may be attempted in the same direction most beneficially (see p. 89). the attempt should first be made in connexion with some of our county asylums of a moderate size. a similar secluded district as that of the commune of gheel is, thanks to providence, not to be found perhaps in england; but this is of no such primary importance: a moderate distance from considerable towns, or from large villages, is all that is strictly requisite, and several asylums are so situated. the difficulty of place being encountered, a more serious one appears, viz. that of finding suitable cottagers to undertake the charge of patients. at first, a suitable class could not be reckoned on; but, according to the laws of supply and demand, it would only require time to form such a class. sufficient inducements only are wanting, and probably those supplied would be found so. it is an advantage to a cottager to have a constant lodger, to receive a certain weekly payment; and it would constitute a greater one to have as an inmate one who could assist in certain labours of the house and garden. we might hope to see old attendants of the asylum settled around, after retirement from their employment, with a pension; and to the care of such two or three, or even more, selected patients might be entrusted. if the land belonging to the asylum were of sufficient extent, the patients boarding around might still be employed upon it; or, if they were artisans, they might daily resort to its workshops, its bakehouse or brewhouse, just as the ordinary peasant labourer goes to and fro to his place of employment. the asylum would thus still reap the benefit of the patients' labour, and this arrangement, we believe, would work better than one providing for their employment with strangers at a distance from the institution. by limiting the area inhabited by patients in lodgings to that immediately surrounding the asylum, a satisfactory supervision could be exercised by the authorities; and on the occurrence of illness, or a change in the mental condition, a transfer to the asylum could be speedily accomplished. again, by keeping the insane within a moderate range of the asylum, and by retaining them as labourers on its grounds, the advantages of a central general administration would be found in the provision and distribution of food and clothing. in previous pages we have advocated, under certain conditions, the erection of distinct asylums for chronic cases of insanity; to this plan the system just developed, of boarding out a certain number in cottages, must be held as supplementary. a chronic, or a moderate, manageable-sized, mixed asylum must form the nucleus of the 'cottage system' of providing for the insane. the cases must be selected from the asylum-residents, and the selection be left with the medical superintendent. the persons receiving patients must be held responsible to the superintendent, and to the members of the lunacy board, for their proper care and management, and they must enter into some sort of covenant with the visitors of the asylum. to carry out the scheme under notice, many matters of detail are required, but these it would be out of place here to enter upon. there is this evident general and economical advantage about this 'cottage system,' that it would obviate the necessity of constructing large asylums for chronic lunatics at an inevitably heavy outlay, and also of instituting so large a staff of officers and servants as is called for to govern and conduct an expensive special establishment. in country districts, agricultural labourers and other small householders might be found willing to board, lodge, and look after patients for 7 or 8 shillings per week each; or, according to the plan we prefer, the asylum would provide board, and receive the benefit of the patients' labour, and only some small sum would be payable for his lodging and care. having only in view at the time the amelioration of the present condition of the insane boarded out with friends or strangers, we have proposed in a preceding page (p. 87), their frequent supervision, and the arrangements necessary to their welfare, being entrusted to a distinct medical officer under the central control of the lunacy board. this plan would still hold good with reference to all those lunatics not living within the fixed radius around the asylum; within which the superintendent would be the directing authority, the supervisor and protector. moreover, as we have remarked (p. 89), residence with their immediate relatives would be frequently preferable to their severance from them in order to be brought within the sphere of the asylum; and such patients would derive benefit from the inspection proposed. § _separate provision for epileptics and idiots._ the extent to which the separation of epileptics and idiots, but more particularly of the former, from other classes of mentally disordered persons should be carried, is a matter much discussed. the rule is to have epileptic wards in large asylums, although there are some epileptics in whom violence and dementia are such prominent features, as to justify their position severally with the refractory or with the demented. however, the painful features of their malady, the special provisions needed in the apartments occupied by epileptics, and the precautionary measures to be observed in their clothing and food, the ill effects of the sight of their paroxysms upon others, and other reasons well known to medical men, constitute sufficient grounds for the ordinary practice pursued of keeping epileptic lunatics generally in particular wards. this plan answers well in moderately-sized asylums; where their number is considerable, as in large establishments, we should prefer their location in a distinct section; and if the county possessed one asylum for recent, and another for chronic cases, the majority of the epileptics should be residents in a section of the latter. of the great value of separate provision for idiots we think there can be no doubt. indeed, the association of idiots with lunatics is an accident of legal origin rather than a proceeding dictated by science and medicine. the law places together idiots and lunatics under similar protection, and treats them as nearly in the same position socially. hence it has come to pass that their legal claim to care and protection has brought them within the walls of the county asylums. their presence there, however, we regard as a mistake prejudicial to their own welfare and an onus upon the asylum authorities. of old, all that was considered necessary for idiots, was to provide food and lodging for them, and to keep them out of harm's way. but, thanks to modern philanthropy, the prospects of the idiot are much improved; the amelioration of his condition is attempted; his moral, mental and physical powers are found to be improveable, and it is sought to elevate his status as a social being, and to foster his capacity for amusement and for useful employment. contrasted with previous neglect, the care and management afforded in an asylum render the poor idiots an infinite service; yet withal a lunatic asylum is not the proper abode for them. within its walls they are unfit associates for the rest of the inmates, and it is therefore felt to be necessary to place them in a special ward. too frequently this ward is in the worst placed and most forgotten section of the building, sometimes with little open space about it, and devoid of those conditions calculated to evolve the little cerebral power possessed. whatever their claims upon the attention of the medical superintendent, and however zealous he may be to discharge all his duties, yet amidst the multifarious occupations pressing upon him, and specially occupied as he is in treating insanity, that officer finds himself unable to do more than watch over the health of the idiotic inmates, and attend to the improvement of their habits: he is not in a position, and has not the opportunities to superintend the education of idiots; and we are certain that every asylum-physician would rejoice, both for his own sake and for the interests of the idiots themselves, to see them removed to a special institution, or to a section of the asylum specially organized for their care. not only are idiots in the way in a lunatic asylum, and their ward an excrescence upon it, but the organization and arrangements are not adapted for them. idiots require a schoolmaster as much as a doctor; the latter can see that all those means are provided for them to improve their habits and their physical condition; but it must devolve on a patient instructor to operate more immediately upon the relic of mental power which is accorded to them. the sooner they are brought under the teacher's care the better: experience shows that much more may be effected with idiots during their childhood than when they have arrived at a more mature age, and the developmental changes in the brain have so far ceased, that an increased production of nervous power can be scarcely looked for. this is a theme we cannot further enter upon; and to conclude this section, we may remark, that the number of idiots is so large as to justify the erection of several distinct institutions for their care and improvement. several counties might unite in the establishment of an idiot asylum, the parishes being charged for the number belonging to them in it; an arrangement, which would no more complicate parochial accounts, than where one charge has to be met (as often is the case at present) for the maintenance of a certain number of lunatics in the county asylum; a second for that of another portion in a licensed house; and a third for some others in the workhouse wards. there is another matter worth noting. the county asylums for the most part being filled to the exclusion of recent cases of insanity, and the condition of idiots being held in still less importance than that of the insane by workhouse authorities, it is not to be wondered at that, on the one hand, the admission of idiots into asylums is not promoted, and that, on the other, so many idiotic paupers are found in workhouses. to provide, therefore, cheaply for idiots in distinct institutions, and to facilitate and enforce their transfer to them, will be a means of ridding union-houses of a portion of their inmates, for which they are so entirely unfitted. to the genuine philanthropist and the truly humane, no hesitation would arise as to securing every necessary provision, and the best means for ameliorating the fate of any sufferers, and particularly that of the poor helpless idiots. but to the majority of mankind the question of cost is preliminary to the exercise of philanthropy; and some perhaps think it enough to feed and clothe, to watch and keep clean the miserable drivelling idiot, since all the money that could be spent upon one would only produce after all a poor, weak-minded creature, of little or no service in the world. this argument cannot be gain-said, though it must be condemned by every christian animated by the leading principle of his religion, that of "love." to the sticklers for economy, the proposition may be propounded for consideration, whether, on the adoption of the plan of erecting distinct asylums for the chronic insane, the idiots could be less expensively provided for in a section or "quarter" of such an asylum, properly furnished with the means of improving their condition, than in an establishment reared specially for the purpose? we content ourselves with putting the question. chap. viii.--registration of lunatics. we are fain to look upon a complete registration as a remedy to many admitted evils affecting the welfare of lunatics, and we may add, of idiots also. lunacy may be regarded as a form of "civil death;" it deprives its sufferer of his rights as a citizen; subjects him to the loss or restriction of liberty; disqualifies him from many civil privileges, and invalidates his powers of dealing with property and of executing legal documents. yet not unfrequently are lunatics, particularly among the more wealthy classes, placed under the penalties of their condition without the knowledge and authority of the officers of the state, by whom alone can such penalties be legally enforced. an individual, we say, is often deprived of his liberty and of the control over his affairs, at the hands of relatives or friends, and often indeed transferred to the house of a stranger, and there subjected to surveillance and repression; and all this done against his will, and, what is more, against the principles of english law and english freedom. elaborate provision is made and still further attempted to prevent the unnecessary detention of persons in asylums, whose cases have been regularly reported to the public authorities; but no steps have as yet been taken to discover unreported cases of alleged lunacy or private cases treated singly; no enactment contrived to bring within the knowledge of any government-board the number of persons, year by year attacked with insanity, and thereby, for a longer or shorter period, disqualified from the exercise of their civil rights. to our mind, this state of things proves a grievous defect in the law of lunacy. every person has an inherent right to the protection of the law; yet practically, if insane, he does not at all, as a matter of course, obtain it: his malady and position may very probably be unknown, and he may be helpless, or otherwise debarred from making it known. were a machinery contrived to report it to legally constituted authorities, the sufferer would have the satisfaction of feeling that he was dealt with according to law in the process of the treatment he was subjected to. were each case of lunacy systematically registered, it would, we believe, frequently save legal contests. documents dealing with property are often matters of litigation, on the plea of the insanity of the person executing them, and enormous costs are incurred on the one side to substantiate, and on the other to overthrow the plea. evidence collateral and direct is hunted up, probably years after the date of the alleged state of insanity; and often enough it comes out, or is decided by the jury, that the individual was once insane, or was so at the date of executing the document in dispute. now, in such a case, had the insanity which has been so laboriously, tediously and expensively established as having occurred, been registered in a public office at the time of its occurrence, how great would have been the gain to the feelings, the interests, and the convenience of every person concerned in the suit! if the document had been executed during the period the individual was registered as of unsound mind, the production of the register alone would have availed in proof of its invalidity. the whole litigation, indeed, might have been prevented by a search of the register before the action was begun. in the introductory chapters on the statistics of insanity, we have remarked on the very incomplete records of the prevalence of the disease, and on the consequent impossibility of discovering the actual number of the insane, and of determining the question of their increase in the community. yet it will be granted that such statistics are of great importance in a civilized country, and have bearings upon several questions in social economy. the earl of shaftesbury, in his valuable evidence before the 'select committee on lunatics' (1859), observes, in answer to query 263, "i think it would be very desirable if we could have proper statistics upon insanity drawn up and put upon a good footing. it would require great trouble and expense; but i think it would be worth the trouble and expense, if it could be put in the hands of some competent persons; and i have no doubt that some remarkable results would be brought out." every one, who knows how defective are the existing statistics of the disease, will cheerfully second his lordship's wish. this, however, does not go so far as our own; for lord shaftesbury appears, as far as we can judge from his words, solicitous only to take a sort of census of the insane and to deduce from it certain facts; whereas we desire not only an accurate census at present, but also a well-arranged scheme for keeping up the correctness of the statistics of the insane for the future, by making every instance of insanity returnable to the lunacy board. our desire, in short, is to bring every lunatic in the kingdom within the cognizance of the commissioners in lunacy, either directly or by some recognized agent acting in their place, so that protection and proper care may be assured to every such afflicted individual. a necessary supplementary provision to placing a name on the register would be required for removing it on certified recovery; the return of which should be made through the same channels as the report of the attack. should the registration proposed be enforced by law,--as it must be to render it at all perfect, under a penalty,--it would afford a remedy against the wide-spread plan of placing lunatics where they are unheard of, and unknown to all except those concerned in their detention. it would make the commissioners acquainted with all those very numerous patients who often drag on a painful and neglected existence in lodgings, under the control of persons of all sorts, with many of whom, it is to be apprehended, the gain to be got by their detention is the ruling motive in their actions. another advantage obtainable by a system of registration, so conducted as to ensure the reporting of cases immediately, or almost so, on their occurrence, is, that it would prepare the way for early treatment, more particularly so perhaps in the case of pauper lunatics. in the instance of the last-named class of insane, the law might render their removal to an asylum imperative, on the report of the onset of their disorder, by refusing their friends the attendance of the parochial medical officer on the patient at home as well as parochial relief, and by holding them responsible on the ground of culpable neglect for anything untoward that may happen to the patient or others. we anticipate that such an arbitrary interference of the law would be but very seldom required, for the poor mostly would be only too happy to rid themselves of a troublesome and useless member of the family. moreover, in the case of those raised above poverty and competent to provide for their insane relatives, it would be no undue stretch of legal authority to require them to satisfy some duly appointed and experienced officer, that the provisions contemplated or furnished by them for the patient were of a satisfactory character and calculated to favour recovery. the existing law, indeed, goes so far as to interfere with the friends of a lunatic and to deprive them of his care, if there be evidence to show that he is cruelly treated or neglected. it moreover imposes upon the friends all costs incurred on behalf of the patient. the section cited is _sect._ lxviii. 16 and 17 vict. cap. 97, and the suggestion we offer is but an amendment of this, so far as to require the friends of every insane person not placed in a licensed house or asylum, to show that such lunatic is properly treated and taken care of. the registration must be accompanied by visitation. the appointed medical registrar must be a witness to the fact he is called upon to register; and a case once registered should be visited at least once in three months, until recovery or death takes place, when in either case the return of the patient as a lunatic would be cancelled under a certificate to the fact supplied by the registrar. these remarks apply specially where patients are placed out singly. this plan of registration, coupled with that of visitation, would not only give security that the patient was properly treated, but would also prevent secret removals to lodgings or other uncertified receptacles for lunatics, or to a foreign country. with reference to the last-named proceeding, there ought assuredly to be some stringent legal provisions, if not to prevent it entirely, at least to place it under great restrictions. the lunacy law in its intent and administration is both stringent and minute where it deals with asylum provision for the insane in this country; but it is impotent if the friends of a lunatic choose to send him out of the country. the act cuts him off from all protection of the laws he was born under and has never forfeited. certainly it must be granted, that in every civilized country of the world lunacy laws are enacted for the protection of the insane; yet even where those laws are good, we know of no realm, and we believe there is none, where the interests of the insane are so well watched over and so adequately provided for, as in our own. this opinion we assert as the result of personal observation in most of the countries of europe, and the perusal of the reports on the state of the insane in those countries. where english lunatics are transferred to foreign public asylums--and there are many sent to such, particularly to those in france--there is often very excellent treatment and moderate state supervision; but it must be borne in mind, that the poor patients are thrust among strangers by nation, by habits, and by laws; there is no security against their being placed among the lowest classes of pensioners, who are less tenderly dealt with than our asylum paupers; and they are besides entirely at the mercy of their relatives or friends, who may as far as possible ignore their existence, prey upon their substance at home, and allow only some pittance for their maintenance in the foreign land. we are persuaded that the allusion to this defect in the laws of lunacy is sufficient to extort attention to it, and obtain its redress. the project of the law of lunacy for sardinia, which we translated for the pages of the 'journal of psychological medicine' (vol. x. p. 818), contained the two following clauses:--"art. 21. it shall be incumbent on all individuals who shall place an insane person in a foreign asylum, to present, every thirty days, to the minister of the interior a precise report of the physical and mental condition of the patient, prepared by the physician of the asylum. art. 22. it shall be in the power of the minister of the interior, by previous concert with his colleague for foreign affairs, to cause any patient confined in a foreign asylum to be brought back to his own country, provided that this can be done without injury to the patient, and that he can be readily provided for in his own family, and is in possession of sufficient pecuniary means for his maintenance." some such clauses need be added to any new act of parliament for the care and treatment of lunatics in this kingdom. the commissioners in lunacy would be the right persons to move first in the matter by calling upon friends for information respecting their lunatic relatives abroad; and the foreign minister, acting upon their recommendation, would, we presume, be the proper official to arrange with the authorities abroad for the transfer of the patient to his own country. it may not be possible so to limit individual liberty as to interdict the removal of lunatics from their native country; but it is undoubtedly consonant with english law, and a matter of justice to the poor lunatic, when so dealt with by his friends as a commodity to barter about, that the legal protection due to him in his own land should be so far extended to him in a foreign state, that some public authority should be satisfied that he is duly cared for, and treated in the asylum he occupies, and has that allowance set aside for his maintenance, which his pecuniary means will justify. likewise, it would be no illegal stretch of power to call upon the friends of a lunatic, whose condition abroad was unsatisfactory, to bring him back to his native country; or, in case of their refusing to do so, to have the order carried out by others, and its costs levied upon the recusant friends. after all, however, before any such law could be effectual, the opportunities of ascertaining the existence of lunatics must be gained by the adoption of the system of registration; for, otherwise, the commissioners could derive no knowledge of the cases sent abroad, even of such as might have at one time been under their jurisdiction in licensed asylums. this remark leads us to notice another default in the lunacy code, viz. that of not enforcing a return in the case of all patients removed from asylums uncured, of the place to which they are removed. at present it is possible for the friends of a lunatic in an asylum or licensed house, to order his discharge, and to remove him where they please, to some spot unknown, if they so choose, to any but themselves. the superintendents of the asylums make a return to the lunacy commissioners that such a patient has been discharged by order of the relative or friend who authorized his admission, and that he has gone out uncured or relieved, but no information is required of the place and manner in which the lunatic is to be disposed of for the future. this circumstance is true of all cases of lunacy not found so by inquisition; that is, all except those put under the jurisdiction of the lord chancellor, or of his representatives in lunacy affairs, the masters in lunacy. for these so-called 'chancery lunatics' the sanction of the masters is required, both to the removal, to the locality, and to the persons proposed for the patient's reception. similar protection should be extended to all insane persons. the power of removal cannot be taken out of the hands of a lunatic's immediate relatives, but it may be hedged about by the restriction, that the removal of an uncured patient shall be reported to the commissioners in lunacy, who shall, after acquainting themselves with the place, the persons, and the provisions intended for the welfare of the patient, have the power to permit or to refuse it. the registration of all lunatics, particularly on the accession of their malady, is exposed to certain objections, none of which, however, are, in our opinion, of sufficient weight to militate against the plan. one great impediment to its adoption, among most persons above the condition of paupers, and in some degree among the poor also, is the desire of secrecy on the part of friends, who endeavour in every way to restrict the knowledge of their relative's mental disorder to the circle of his own family, and, if possible, to ignore its being actual insanity. on the one hand, the insanity is treated as if it brought discredit on all related to the afflicted person; and on the other, relations dread its recognition by any public authority, and set themselves in array against any inquiry which seems to trench on their private affairs. the self-same feelings and prejudices, as before shown (p. 32), operate against the early and successful treatment of private patients; and as obstacles to registration they are equally to be regretted. the attempt to keep secret an attack of insanity is virtually impracticable; and though it is, in truth, a dire misfortune to both patient and family, yet is an attack of mental disorder a less discredit than one of gout, which our forefathers, in their folly, courted as a pledge of good manners and good breeding. the mischief of these notions, however, is, that they operate inimically to the interests of the patient: they stand in the way of early and appropriate treatment, and thereby tend to prolong the malady, or to render it inveterate. could the friends bring themselves boldly to face the whole truth, and admit the fact that their relative was insane, and were they encouraged by their medical man to take this true view of the matter, and to act upon it, by submitting the patient to the necessary treatment, they would very often escape the evil of exposure they dread, and soon have their relative restored to them again, instead of having, by various subterfuges, to hide his condition, and to account for his long disappearance from society and from home. besides, the hollowness of the pretences or excuses for absence must some day be found out, when the impression upon acquaintances will be the more profound, and the self-respect of the relatives suffer the wound inflicted by the exposure of the vain deception they have essayed to practise. again, the recording of the occurrence of insanity in a member of a family, which we hold to be as important to the patient and his friends as to the state, need not be regarded as an inquisitorial proceeding. it can be effected with every attention to secrecy;--the registrar would be sworn to secrecy, and the register in the central office would be a sealed book, except under certain conditions authorized by the courts of law. there is no public declaration of the fact of the insanity involved by its being recorded in the books of an office under the security of its functionaries. allowing that family prejudices and pride were of more moment than we are willing to admit, yet they should not suspend the enforcement of registration; for it must be remembered that the insane stand in a different class to patients suffering from any bodily infirmity. they forfeit by their malady the power to act in their own affairs; or their actions, if their mental disorder has been as far as possible concealed, are at any time during their life or after their death, liable to be called in question on the plea of insanity. it is undoubtedly, then, the province of the law to interpose on their behalf for the interests both of themselves and of others. the law is remiss if it permit a mentally unsound person to act on his own behalf, or others to act for him, without its sanction; and is it, we ask, consonant with english jurisprudence to detain a man against his will, in other words, to imprison him, even in his own house, and under the authority of his own immediate relatives? as soon as insanity has declared itself, so soon, we maintain, should both the person and the property of the sufferer come under the protection of the law; and this protection ought to be promptly and cheaply afforded. interference with a mentally disordered individual had better be premature than be delayed until by some actions his interests, his property, or his condition suffer. it is better for him to be found a lunatic, or, to avoid a painful and objectionable term, be adjudged to be unable properly to take care of himself and his affairs, and to be deprived for a time of liberty of action,--than that he should be treated as a sound man, and be suffered to damage his own prospects and property, and to expose himself or family to future litigation on account of his actions. when a violent or sudden death, or a suicide occurs, be it in whatever class of society it may, there is no escaping the requirement of the law, however painful be the circumstances the inquiry evokes; the coroner must hold an inquest, and the whole matter be publicly investigated before a jury. family pride and prejudice, however much they may be offended, are not allowed to stay the inquiry. why should they then be suffered to stand in the way of a simple recognition, made not through the intervention of a public court, but as secretly as possible, of a disorder, which places the sufferer in a state of social and civil death, and perhaps more seriously deranges his pecuniary affairs than even natural death itself? to repeat, the law is bound to watch over the interests of the insane, by seeing that they are properly provided for, whether in their own houses or elsewhere. no difference of opinion will occur to the proposition where the insane are placed with those who are directly or indirectly advantaged by their detention. to meet the case of such, indeed, an attempt to secure a legal recognition and protection has been made by 16 and 17 vict. cap. 96. but the same unanimity will be wanting when it is proposed to demand a return, and to sanction the supervision by public functionaries, of patients residing in their own homes: and although we have endeavoured to show good reasons why such a requirement should be made,--and the arguments could be enforced by illustrations proving that, both among rich and poor, insane persons are not satisfactorily, nay more, not even kindly treated by their own relatives,--yet lord shaftesbury stated it to be his persuasion (evid. of com. p. 35) that public opinion is not ripe to introduce a new power to enter domestic establishments. nevertheless, if public opinion be not ripe for such an innovation, "it would seem (to employ sir erskine perry's query, no. 304, as an affirmation) that whenever a person is put under surveillance, it is not too much for the legislature to require information of that fact;" that is to say, if "domestic rights" must yet for a time be allowed to hide domestic wrongs to the helpless victims of mental disease, by denying them the protection of the law they live under, they should not avail against their being reported or registered. however, in the case of those who are obliged to seek for parochial aid, the domestic impediments to the institution of a public officer to inspect the condition of their lunatic relatives, could not be suffered to operate. now the principle of requiring a compulsory return and visitation of all insane persons confined in their own homes or in lodgings, is not new. the belgian lunacy commissioners recommended in their report on the amelioration of the lunacy laws, in 1842, that no person should be confined in his own home, excepting after an examination by two physicians, and a certificate from them of the necessity of the restraint upon his liberty. the certificate was to be handed to the "juge de paix," who might order other visits; and if dissatisfied with the arrangements for the care and treatment of the patient, might require others to be entered into. the family medical man was likewise charged, under a penalty for non-performance, to send in a quarterly report of the state and condition of the patient. with the same object in view of obviating abuses in the domiciliary treatment of the insane, m. bonacossa, the chief physician of the turin asylum, proposed the following clause to the sardinian lunacy code:--"that, as patients are often kept in confinement in their own homes or in the houses of private persons to their detriment, it shall be made imperative on all individuals retaining an insane person in their house, to report the fact to the syndic of the commune, or to the intendant of the province." the british legislature has taken some steps in the same direction, but the fear of encroachment upon individual liberty has conspired to render its comparatively feeble attempts to provide for the due protection of single patients nugatory. by the act of 1829, every medical man who had been in charge of a private patient for eleven months was required to send the name of the patient, under a sealed cover, to the lunacy commission; but this document could only be opened upon application to the lord chancellor. moreover, the fixing of the period of eleven months led to the transfer of the poor lunatics from one person to another within that period, so as to render the requirement of notice of his existence and detention null and void. by the 8 and 9 vict. cap. 100, this enactment was repealed, and by _sect._ xc. it was ordered that no person, except one who derived "no profit from the charge, or a committee appointed by the lord chancellor," should receive a lunatic into his house, to board or lodge, without the legal order and medical certificates, as required for admission into a registered house or asylum; and that within seven days after the reception of a lunatic, the person receiving him should transmit to the commissioners copies of the order and medical certificates, together with a notice of the situation of the house, and the name both of the occupier and of the person taking charge of the patient. it further ordered that every such patient should be visited at least once in every two weeks, by a duly qualified medical man, who should also enter a statement after each visit of the state of the patient's health, both bodily and mental, and of the condition of the house. with a view to secrecy, the same act ordained (_sect._ lxxxix.) the institution of a private committee of three of the lunacy commissioners,--to whom alone the register (_sect._ xci.) of such patients was to be submitted for inspection,--who should visit those registered single lunatics, report upon them in a private book (_sect._ xcii.), and, if desirable, send this report to the lord chancellor, who could order the removal of the patient elsewhere (_sect._ xciii.), if his state was proved to be unsatisfactory. this legal apparatus completely failed to attain the desired object: it was left open for the person receiving the patient to consider him a lunatic or not, and to report him or not at discretion; for no penalty hung over his head for disobedience to the act. so, again, the three members of the "private committee" could neither derive official knowledge of the single patients they ought to visit, nor find time or opportunity to carry out the visitation of those reported to them, living as they did scattered throughout the country. the last-named act, having thus failed in its objects, was much varied by that of 1853 (16 and 17 vict. cap. 96), the last enacted, which was less ambitious in its endeavours to deal with the single private lunatics. by this act the private committee was abolished, and any member of the lunacy commission was empowered to visit those single cases reported to the board; at least one visit a year being required. but the provisions under this act are very ineffectual, both for the discovery and for the protection of the patients. the commissioners are directed to visit those only who are placed under certificate and known to them; and although every person taking charge of a lunatic or an alleged lunatic is required (by _sect._ viii.), before receiving the patient, to be furnished with the usual order and medical certificates, and (by _sect._ xvi.) to make an annual report of his mental and bodily condition to the commissioners during his residence in his house, yet there are, in the first place, no means provided for discovering the existence of the lunatic unless the person receiving him choose to report it; and again, the requirement as to the certificates and order may be complied with, but no copy be sent to the commissioners; and lastly, it is left to the will and pleasure, or to the honesty of the individual receiving the case, whether it is to be considered as one of lunacy or not. it is needless to attempt to prove that a law so loosely framed must be inoperative. no person who has given a thought to the subject but knows that there are many hundred, nay, in all probability some two thousand--as we have surmised in our estimate (p. 5), single private (not pauper) patients in england: yet, as lord shaftesbury acquaints us in his evidence (committee on lunatics, p. 34), only 124 such patients are known to the lunacy board. some few of the many others may be under certificates, though unreported; still the great majority are, there is no doubt, detained without attention to any legal formalities or legal sanction, and for the most part treated as "nervous patients," and as therefore not amenable to the commissioners in lunacy. the existence of the lunacy is thus disguised under the term of 'nervousness,' and the patients robbed of the protection which the law has rightly intended, and yet signally failed to afford. the noble chairman of the lunacy commission, in the course of his able evidence before the "committee on lunatics" (1859), has given some admirable suggestions for the amendment of the law in order to bring the so-called "nervous patients" under the cognizance of the commission, and to obtain a more complete knowledge of the number and position of the many lunatics detained in private houses. according to the existing law (evid. comm. p. 33), it is only, says lord shaftesbury, "where a patient is put out to board with some person who is benefited by the circumstance that the commissioners can, upon application to the chancellor, obtain access to a house where they have reasonable ground to believe there is a patient restrained, and who ought to be under certificate. but not only, in the first place, is it difficult to ascertain where such patients are, but it is also difficult afterwards, as we must have good testimony to induce the chancellor to give us a right to enter a private house, and make an examination accordingly." in reply to queries 303, 304, 315, 318, 320 and 325, his lordship insists on the necessity of the law interposing to compel persons who receive any patients whatever for profit, whether styled nervous or epileptic patients, to give notice of their reception to the commissioners in lunacy, who should have the power to visit and ascertain their state of mind, and determine whether they should or should not be put under certificate as lunatic. if they were found to be only 'nervous' persons, the commissioners would have nothing to do with them. to give these suggestions a legal force, his lordship produced the following clauses as additions to the lunacy act (evid. comm. query 432, p. 43):-"whereas many persons suffer from nervous disorders and other mental affections of a nature and to an extent to incapacitate them from the due management of themselves and their affairs, but not to render them proper persons to be taken charge of, and detained under care and treatment as insane; and whereas such persons are frequently conscious of their mental infirmity, and desirous of submitting themselves to medical care and supervision, and it is expedient to legalize and facilitate voluntary arrangements for that object, so far as may be compatible with the free agency of the persons so affected, be it enacted, as follows:-"subject to the provisions hereinafter contained, it shall be lawful for any duly-qualified medical practitioner or other person, by his direction, to receive and entertain as a boarder or patient any person suffering from a nervous disorder, or other mental affection requiring medical care and supervision, but not such as to justify his being taken charge of and detained as a person of unsound mind. no person shall be received without the written request in the form, schedule --., to this act, of a relative or friend who derives no profit from the arrangement, and his own consent, in writing, in the form in the same schedule, the signatures to which request and consent respectively shall be witnessed by some inhabitant householder. "the person receiving such patient shall, within two days after his reception, give notice thereof to the commissioners in lunacy, and shall at the same time transmit to the commissioners a copy of the request and consent aforesaid. it shall be lawful for one or more commissioners, at any time after the receipt of such notice aforesaid, and from time to time, to visit and examine such patient, with a view to ascertain his mental state and freedom of action; and the visiting commissioner or commissioners shall report to the board the result of their examination and inquiries. no such patient shall be received into a licensed house." lord shaftesbury proceeds to say that by this plan "every person, professional or not, who receives a patient into his house, or attends a patient in such circumstances, should notify it to the commissioners; but we should not require them to notify it until after three months should have elapsed, because a patient might be suffering from brain fever, or a temporary disorder; but i would say that any person accepting or attending a patient in these circumstances should notify it to the commissioners, after three months shall have elapsed from the beginning of the treatment." in the after part of his evidence (query 921, p. 100), his lordship desired to supply an omission in the preceding clause, viz. to make it compulsory on a medical man attending a nervous patient, and not only the person receiving one, to communicate the fact to the commissioners, so that they might go and see him, and form their own judgment whether he should or should not be placed under certificate. there is much that is excellent in the clauses suggested, yet some improvement is needed in their wording. thus it is provided that a medical practitioner, or a person under his direction, may receive a 'nervous' patient, and the subsequent provisions are made in accordance with this principle, as though only medical men could receive such patients, or that they alone were amenable to the laws regulating their detention. sir erskine perry detected this oversight (query 434), and lord shaftesbury admitted the want of sufficient technicality in the drawing up of the clause. again, we do not conceive there is adequate reason for postponing the report of a case until three months after the commencement of the treatment; a delay, not imposed, indeed, under the clause as propounded, but implied in his lordship's subsequent remarks. to refer to the class of patients mentioned as properly exempt from a return to the lunacy commission until after three months have elapsed:--a case of so-called 'brain fever' is not likely to be sent from home to board with a medical man or other person during the existence of the acute malady commonly known under that term. on the other hand, genuine cases of acute mania get called by the same name, and such certainly ought to be reported to the commissioners before the expiration of three months. besides, the delay to notify 'temporary disorder' for so long a time is likely to be injurious and to defeat the object of the clause. delirium or mental aberration lasting for three months is something more than a symptom of any one commonly recognized bodily disease, and rightly deserves the designation of madness; and, if this be the case, it also claims the supervision of the commissioners or other duly appointed officers over its management, particularly when this is undertaken, with the object of profit to the person treating it. moreover, the delay proposed involves an idea not flattering to the discernment and the powers of diagnosis of the members of the medical profession; for its intent, we take it, is solely to prevent giving unnecessary trouble and distress to all concerned, in having to send a notification of the disorder, while yet unconfirmed, to the commissioners: an annoyance which ought never to happen; for every medical man should be able to distinguish the delirium of fever, of drinking, or of other corporeal conditions it is sometimes linked with, from insanity; and it would be very discreditable to the medical skill of any one not to find out the true nature of the case long before the expiration of three months. further, for the sake of promoting early and efficient treatment, the notification of disorder, whether called 'nervous' or mental, should be given before the end of three months. the change from home to board with a medical man may be all that is desired for a 'nervous' patient; but if it be a case of recent insanity, something more than solitary treatment at home or in a private lodging is essential. the evils of the last-named plan are largely illustrated in the evidence of lord shaftesbury himself, and of other witnesses before the select committee. it is consequently desirable to have cases, under what designation soever they are received, reported before the close of three months, so that the commissioners may see them and determine whether or not the conditions under which they are placed are conducive to their well-being and recovery, and may give their recommendations accordingly. the proposition appended by the noble earl, to the effect that every medical man attending a 'nervous' patient should communicate the fact to the lunacy commissioners, is most important, and in its scope approaches that of enforcing a registration, as advocated by ourselves: for we presume that his lordship would desire the paragraph to be so worded, that the notice should be demanded from the medical attendant, as well in the case of a lunatic or alleged lunatic as in that of a so-called 'nervous' patient. a similar defect attaches to the clauses proposed as to those actually in force under existing acts; that is to say, the want of means of enforcing them. by the act 8th and 9th vict. cap. 100, _sect._ xlv., it is made a misdemeanour to receive or detain a person in a house without a legal order and medical certificates; and by _sect._ xliv. it is declared a misdemeanour to receive two or more lunatics into any unlicensed house. these clauses are, however, valueless in preventing the abuses they aim at checking; for, as so often said before, alleged and undoubted lunatics are perpetually received by persons into their private houses as 'nervous' patients, mostly without certificates, or, if under certificates, unreported to the commissioners. no solid argument is conceivable, why a person having two lunatics under charge should be liable to punishment for a misdemeanour, whilst another may detain one with impunity. the penalty should be similar in each case. the same legal infliction, too, should, we think, be visited alike upon the friends putting away a relative under private care and upon the individual receiving him. it might also be rendered competent for any relative or friend to call upon those concerned in secluding, or in removing the patient from home under restraint, to show cause for so doing; and the production of the medical certificates and of a copy of the notification sent to the commissioners, with or without a certificate from such an officer as we propose as a district medical inspector, should serve to stay proceedings. the detention or the seclusion of a person, whether at home or elsewhere, contrary to his will, and at the sacrifice of his individual liberties and civil rights, appears to us tantamount to false imprisonment, and an act opposed to the principles of english liberty, whether it be perpetrated by relatives or strangers, if done without the knowledge and sanction of the law and of its administrators. but whatever amendments be introduced, we hold them to be secondary to a complete system of registration of lunatics and 'nervous' patients rendered compulsory upon the medical men attending them, or taking them under their charge, and likewise upon the relatives, or, in the case of paupers, upon the relieving officers or overseers of their parish. the family medical attendant appears the most fitting person to make a return of the sort: his professional knowledge must be called in to testify to, or to decide on, the nature of the disease, and the fact can be best communicated by him in his medical capacity. the lunacy commissioners of massachusetts had recourse to the physicians living in every town and village of the state; and it was only by so doing that they were enabled to arrive at an accurate knowledge of the number of the insane, and to correct the statistics gathered through other channels, which might, at first sight, have appeared ample to their discovery. further, as already noted, we advocate another step in conjunction with registration; for we would convey the notification of the existence of the alleged insane or nervous patient primarily to the district medical officer, and then call upon this gentleman to visit the patient, with every deference to family sensitiveness and necessary privacy, in order that he may make a report on the nature and character of the malady, and the conditions surrounding the patient, to the commissioners in lunacy. the immediate visitation of a reported case by such a skilled officer would be of advantage to the patient, to his friends, and to the commissioners. without overruling or controlling the medical attendant or others, his advice on the wants of the case would be useful, and he could fulfil one purpose proposed to be effected by a visit from the commissioners, viz. that of signifying whether the patient should be placed under certificates or not; his opinion being subject to revision by the visiting commissioners, should the nature of his report appear to them to call for their personal examination of the case. if, again, medical certificates were required, these might be countersigned by the district officer in question, after a separate examination, and an additional protection be thus applied against illegality in the legal documents required to sanction the patient's restriction or detention. this plan would likewise afford a check to the transmission to the lunacy board of those insufficient certificates which at the present time involve such frequent trouble. but, although the district officer's signature or certificate might by its presence be held to increase the validity of the evidence for a patient's insanity, yet its absence, where his opinion differed from that of the medical men called in to sign the legal certificates, should not operate as a bar to dealing with the alleged lunatic as such, until an examination by one of the board of commissioners could be had; and therefore the registrar should be bound to transmit the order and certificates, when properly filled up, accompanied by his own report of the case. supposing these provisions just sketched to be carried out, and that an individual is found lunatic by his immediate medical attendants, by the official registrar, a perfectly disinterested person, and, sooner or later by the commissioners, there certainly appears no reason why the lunatic himself, or any officious friend or sharp lawyer in search of business, should be able to challenge by legal proceedings a decision so cautiously arrived at by so many competent persons. the determination of a trial by jury we hold to be less satisfactory, and less likely to be in accordance with fact; so easy is it in some instances for a clever counsel to frighten witnesses, to get fallacious evidence, and to represent his client's cause, and appeal to the passions of the jurors of very miscellaneous mental calibre, often with more feeling than judgment, and generally to use all those arts which are thought legitimate by the practitioners of the law to win a verdict. there is one subject well deserving notice; one which acts as a stumbling-block to the treatment of mentally disordered persons, and will also do so, more or less, to registration; viz. the present legal necessity of placing all in the category of lunatics. the practical questions are, whether this proceeding is necessary, and if not, whether the present form of the order and medical certificates cannot be so modified, as to lessen the objections of friends to place their suffering relatives under the protection of the law and its officers; we should add, to remove the objections of patients themselves; for it is irritating to the minds of certain classes of the insane to know that they are accounted lunatics by law equally with the most degraded victims of mental disorder with whom they may find themselves associated; and it offers an impediment at times, as those conversant with the management of asylums know, to patients voluntarily submitting themselves to treatment. the adoption of two forms of certificate, one for persons found to be of unsound mind, and the other for the class of 'nervous' patients, would undoubtedly involve some disadvantages. it would be the aim of all those in a position to influence opinion, to obtain the registration of their insane friends under the ambiguous appellation of 'nervous' patients; and this could be met only by placing it in the power of an officer attached to the lunacy commission to make the decision, after an examination of the patient, respecting the nature of the certificate required. perhaps the examination to be made by a commissioner, according to the scheme propounded by lord shaftesbury (p. 161), is intended, though not said to be so, to serve the purpose referred to; otherwise it would be a defect in his lordship's plan, that no person is empowered to discriminate the individuals he would legislate for as 'nervous' patients not properly the subjects for asylum treatment, from those mentally disordered persons who are so. although the introduction of a modified or mitigated form of certificate of mental unsoundness, besides the one now in use, may be open to the objection mentioned, and to others conceivable, yet it would, on the other hand, possess certain advantages, and would, among others, be certainly an improvement upon the present state of things, by promoting the registration of numerous cases now unknown to the administrators of the lunacy laws. it would be impossible to draw the line rigidly between really insane persons and those suffering from temporary delirium, or 'nervousness.' no ready cut and dried definitions of insanity would serve the purpose, and the discrimination of cases in order to their return as 'lunatic,' or as 'nervous,' must within certain limits rest upon definitions imposed by law, and beyond these to common sense and professional experience. with such criteria to guide, no sufferers from the delirium of fever, of alcoholism, or other kindred morbid state, and no eccentric personages whose peculiarities are not necessarily injurious to themselves, to others, or to their property, should be brought within the operation of the laws contrived to protect positive mental disorder. they would not occupy the same legal position as those classes proposed to be under one or other form of certificate; for, in our humble opinion, all those under certificate, whether as insane or as 'nervous' patients, should be under like legal disabilities in the management of themselves and their affairs, and partake of equal legal protection. in the preamble to the clauses suggested by lord shaftesbury, the nervous disorder or other mental affection is very properly supposed to be of a nature and extent to incapacitate the sufferers from the due management of themselves and their affairs; that is, that they are to be rightly placed under similar civil disabilities with the insane;--a position, which could, moreover, not be relaxed even in favour of those voluntarily placing themselves under treatment, without giving rise to much legal perplexity and quibbling. but this last-named result we have some apprehension might ensue, if the next sentence of the clause to those quoted were retained: forasmuch as, farther to define the class of persons to be legislated for, this sentence requires that their disorder shall not render them proper persons to be taken charge of and detained under care and treatment as insane; a condition, which seems to exclude them from the catalogue of insane persons in the eye of the law, and therefore to relieve them from the legal disabilities attaching to lunatics; but, perhaps, it is from ignorance of law that we cannot conceive how it is proposed to provide for the care and official supervision of persons alleged to be incapacitated from the management of themselves and their affairs, and at the same time to pronounce them unfit to be dealt with as insane. the scotch asylums act (1857) contains a clause (41st) to authorize the detention of persons labouring under mental aberration, in its earlier stages, in private houses, under a form of certificate set forth in schedule g, wherein the medical man certifies that the individual in question is suffering from some form of mental disorder, not as yet confirmed, and that it is expedient to remove him from his home for temporary residence in a private house (not an asylum), with a view to his recovery. this plan of disposing of a patient is permitted to continue for six months only. by some such scheme as this, it seems possible to bring the sufferers from disordered mental power within the cognizance of the public authorities appointed to watch over their interests, and at the same time to rescue them from being classed with the inmates of lunatic asylums, and from the frequently painful impression, in their own minds, that they are publicly considered to be lunatics. to avoid disputes and litigation, however, such patients should, even when under that amount of surveillance intimated, be debarred from executing any acts in reference to property, which might be subsequently called into question on the plea of their insanity. according to the present state of the law, there is no intermediate position for a person suffering from any form of cerebral agitation or of mental disturbance; he must be declared by certificate a lunatic, or his insanity must be called 'nervousness.' under the latter designation of his malady, he cannot receive treatment in an asylum or licensed house; and yet, all his acts in behalf of his own affairs, that is, where his friends do not arbitrarily assume the power to act for him, may at any future time be disputed as those of a lunatic. yet, as noticed more than once before, all the probable disadvantages of this anomalous position are risked in very many cases, and the best chances of recovery thrown away, because the friends (and the patient too very often) are unwilling to have him certified as a lunatic. an alteration, therefore, of the law seems much required in this matter. the earl of shaftesbury has met this want partially by the clause he has proposed in favour of 'nervous' patients, and his lordship, in a preceding portion of his evidence (queries 191-192), expressed himself in favour of mitigating the wording of the medical certificates required. we have also heard dr. forbes winslow express sentiments to a similar effect, that the law ought to recognise the legality of placing certain patients suffering from some varieties of mental disturbance under treatment in licensed houses, and especially those who will voluntarily submit themselves to it, without insisting on their being certified as lunatics. this is not an improper place in our remarks to direct attention to the proposition to legalize the establishment of intermediate institutions, of a character standing midway, so to speak, between the self-control and liberty of home and the discipline of the licensed asylum or house, to afford accommodation and treatment for those who would be claimants for them under the mitigated certificates above considered. such institutions would be very valuable to the so-called 'nervous patients,' and to the wretched victims of 'dipsomania'--the furor for intoxicating drinks; for there are many advantages attending the treatment of these, as of insane patients, in well-ordered and specially arranged establishments, over those which can be afforded in private houses. it may likewise be added, that the facilities of supervision by the appointed public functionaries are augmented, and greater security given to the patients when so associated in suitable establishments. we add this because, although the certificates are mitigated in their case, and they are not accounted lunatics, yet we regard that degree of visitation by the commissioners, indicated by lord shaftesbury, to be in every way desirable. it is not within the compass of this work to enter into the details for establishing and organizing these retreats: they have been discussed by several physicians, and more particularly in scotland, where, it would seem, examples of drunken mania are more common than in england. chap. ix.--appointment of district medical officers. throughout the preceding portion of this book we have pointed out numerous instances wherein the legal provision for the insane fails in its object from the want of duly-appointed agents, possessing both special experience and an independence of local and parochial authorities; and we have many times referred to a district medical officer, inspector or examiner, as a public functionary much needed in any systematic scheme to secure the necessary supervision and protection of the insane, particularly of such as are paupers. we will now endeavour to specify somewhat more precisely the position and duties of that proposed officer; but, before doing so, we may state that the appointment of district medical officers is not without a parallel in most of the continental states. in italy there are provincial physicians, and in germany kreis-artzte, or district-physicians, who exercise supervision over the insane within their circle, besides acting in all public medico-legal and sanitary questions. in our humble opinion, the institution of a similar class of officers would be an immense improvement in our public medical and social system. the want of public medical officers to watch over the health and the general sanitary conditions of our large towns has been recognised and provided for; although the machinery for supplying it is much less perfect than could be wished: for to entrust the sanitary oversight and regulation of populous districts to medical men engaged in large general practice, often holding union medical appointments, and rarely independent of parish authorities, is not a plan the best calculated to secure the effectual performance of the duties imposed; for, as a natural result, those duties must rank next after the private practice of the medical officer, and constitute an extraneous employment. in the establishment of a class of district medical officers,--chiefly for the examination, supervision and registration of all lunatics or alleged lunatics and 'nervous' patients not in asylums, but placed, or proposed to be placed, under surveillance, accompanied with deprivation of their ordinary civil and social rights,--we would protest against the commission of such an error in selecting them, as has, in our opinion, occurred in the appointment of sanitary medical officers generally: for the performance of the duties which would devolve on the district medical officer, it would indeed be essential that he should be perfectly independent of local authorities, that he should not hold his appointment subject to them, and that his position among his professional brethren should be such as to disarm all sentiments of rivalry or jealousy among those with whom his official duties would bring him in contact. what should be his position and character will, however, be better estimated after the objects of his appointment are known. the extent of the district assigned to this official would necessarily vary according to the density of population; so that some counties would constitute a single district, and others be divided into several. in the instance of a county so small as rutland, the services of a separate district medical officer would hardly be required, and the county might be advantageously connected with an adjoining one. one principal purpose of his office would be to receive notice of every case of insanity, of idiocy, or of 'nervousness' (as provided for by lord shaftesbury's proposal), and to register it; the notice to be sent to him by the medical attendant upon the patient. upon receiving such notice, he should forthwith, except under certain contingences hereafter indicated, visit the case, and determine whether it should be rightly placed under certificates as one of lunacy, or as one of 'nervous' disorder, amenable to treatment without the seclusion of an asylum; and should transmit the result of his examination and the report of the case to the lunacy board. it might supply an additional protection to the lunatic, and be satisfactory otherwise, if the signature of this officer were required to the original certificates (see p. 165) before their transmission to the central office in london. the return made by the district medical officer to the commissioners in lunacy would be of much service to them in determining their future course with reference to the visitation of the patient (in carrying out lord shaftesbury's proposal, p. 161), supposing him to be detained at home, or in lodgings with strangers, instead of being transferred to an asylum or licensed house. so again, if the patient were removed to an asylum, he would furnish a report of his history and condition to the physician or proprietor, and thereby render a valuable service, particularly in the case of paupers, of whom next to nothing can frequently be learnt from the relieving officers who superintend their removal to the county asylum. the want of a medical report of cases on admission is, in fact, much felt and deplored by medical superintendents; and, since it is proposed that the district officer should visit the patient at his own home, or, in exceptional cases, elsewhere, and inquire into his mental and bodily state, and into the history of his disorder, before his removal to the asylum, and as soon as possible after the onset of the attack, he would be well-qualified to render a full account of his case. we have spoken of a notice of idiots within his district being sent to the district inspector, and of his duty to register them. this matter we regard as certainly calling for attention, for, as remarked in a previous page (p. 149), idiots need be submitted to appropriate educational and medical means at an early age to derive the full benefits of those measures; and among the poor, they certainly should not be left uncared for and unnurtured in the indifferent and needy homes of their friends, until, probably, their condition is almost past amelioration. again, with reference to the transmission of pauper lunatics to county asylums, we are disposed to recommend that the order for it be signed by the district medical officer, without recourse to a justice, in those cases where he can visit them, and in comparison of which indeed others ought to be exceptional. where, for instance, by reason of the remoteness of the patient's home, or of the workhouse or other building wherein he is temporarily detained, the district medical officer's visit could not be specially made except at great cost, the removal of the patient to the asylum might be carried out under the order of a magistrate, and the examination made by the district officer, as soon after his reception as possible; or better, at his own residence, which ought to be in a town not far from the county asylum. we advocate the delegation of the authority to the district officer to make an order in lieu of a justice, on the production of the legal medical certificate required, because we consider him much better qualified to administer that portion of the lunacy law, particularly as that law at present stands, which puts it in the power of a justice to impede the transmission of a lunatic for treatment, if, in his opinion, the patient's malady do not require asylum care: and it is a fact, that the clause permitting a justice this influence over a patient's future condition is often exercised; at times, contrary to the decided advice of medical men, and to the detriment of the poor patient. lord shaftesbury refers to such an occurrence in his evidence (_op. cit._, query 846). having in view private patients especially, his lordship remarks that nothing could be worse than to take them before a magistrate: "there would be a degree of publicity about it that would be most painful ..., and to have the matter determined by him whether the patient should or should not be put under medical treatment. in ninety-nine cases out of one hundred, the magistrate knows little or nothing about the matter. a case occurred the other day of a poor man who was taken before a magistrate, and he refused to certify, because the man was not in an infuriated state. 'a quiet person like him,' he said, 'ought not to be put into an asylum; take him back.' he was in a low, desponding state, and if he had been sent to a curative asylum, he might have been cured and restored to society." mr. gaskell also adds his evidence to that of the noble chairman of the board, in reply to query 1385 (_op. cit._ p. 133) put by sir george grey:--"is the magistrate to be quite satisfied on the evidence that the pauper is a proper person to be taken charge of in the county asylum?" mr. gaskell replies, "yes, as i said, on the medical gentleman giving a certificate. then it is his duty to make an order, and if he is not satisfied by his own examination, or the medical evidence is not sufficient to justify the order, he declines. i am sorry to say that they frequently do." it is also to be remembered that the existing law allows the justice's order to be dispensed with, if it cannot be readily obtained, or if the patient cannot be conveniently taken before him, and admits as a substitute an order signed by an officiating clergyman and an overseer or a relieving officer, upon the production of a medical certificate. moreover, by the interpretation clause, the chaplain of a workhouse is to be deemed an officiating clergyman within the meaning of the act. now, these conditions seem to us to frustrate the undoubted intent of the law in requiring a magistrate's order, viz. to guard against the unnecessary detention of an alleged lunatic; for they place the liberty of the pauper entirely in the hands of parish officers and paid servants, who will naturally act in concert; and it is conceivable that workhouse authorities might be anxious to get rid of a refractory pauper, and could together with the relieving officer influence in a certain degree the opinions and sentiments of the salaried chaplain and medical officer, in order to sanction his removal to the county asylum. we have, indeed, in previous pages (p. 91, _et seq._), shown that unfit and occasionally non-lunatic patients are sent to asylums; but, even did such an event never happen, we should still hold that the protection to the alleged lunatic intended by the requirement of an order signed by the officials designated, is very little worth, and would be advantageously replaced by the order of a district medical officer appointed and authorized by the scheme we propose. it is also worthy of note, that patients sent to asylums under the order of the chaplain and relieving officer feel themselves sometimes much aggrieved that no magistrate or other independent authority has had a voice in the matter. they regard the relieving officer or the overseer, as the case may be, to be directly interested in their committal to the asylum, and only look upon the chaplain of the union as a paid officer, almost bound to append his signature to any document matured at the board of guardians, when called upon to do so. moreover, they can recognise in him, in his professional capacity as a clergyman, no especial qualifications for deciding on the question whether they are proper persons to be confined on the ground of their insanity. this remark, too, extends to every other clergyman called upon to act in the matter. nay, more, there is another more potent objection at times to a clergyman signing the order; viz. when the patient is of a different faith, or when perhaps animated by strong prejudices against the clergy of the english church, and when, consequently, it is possible for him to imagine himself the victim of religious persecution or of intolerance. even lord shaftesbury, who is so identified with the interests of religion and of its ministers, manifests no disposition to entrust to the clergy the interests of the insane. in reply to the query (no. 838, evid. com.), whether he would desire ministers of religion to pronounce on the fitness or unfitness of persons for confinement as of unsound mind, he replies, "i should have more distrust of the religious gentleman than i should have of the medical man; and i say that with the deepest respect for the ministers of religion. the difficulty of it would be incalculable, if you were to throw the duty on the parochial clergy in the neighbourhood, who are already overburdened." in truth, there is no more reason for assigning to the clergy the determination of the question of sanity or insanity of an alleged lunatic, than for entrusting it to any other respectable and educated class of society. we have seen that magistrates sometimes exercise their privilege of deciding the question in an arbitrary and injudicious manner, and it is permissible to suppose the clergy not to be always in the right in exercising the same function. indeed, we have at least one instance on record that they are not, in the supplement to the twelfth report of the commissioners in lunacy; viz. in the case of an epileptic woman, subject to paroxysms of dangerous violence and destructiveness,--such as are common to the epileptic insane in asylums, and reported by the master of the workhouse "as unsafe to be associated with the other inmates. for these offences she had been subjected to low diet, restraint, and seclusion, and on three occasions had been sent to prison. the medical officer of the workhouse considered her of unsound mind, not fit to be retained in the workhouse, and improperly treated by being sent to prison. in march 1856, and february 1857, he had given certificates to this effect, and steps were taken to remove her to the asylum. when taken on those occasions, however, before the vicar of the parish, he refused to sign the order, and she was consequently treated as refractory, and sent to prison." taking the foregoing remarks into consideration, the only circumstances under which we would call upon an officiating clergyman, not being the chaplain of the union, to make the order, would be where no magistrate resided in the neighbourhood, and where, from the remoteness of the locality, the district medical examiner could scarcely be expected to visit the individual case,--an event that would be of rare occurrence in this country. there are indeed cases, such as of acute mania, where the justification of the confinement of a lunatic, by the order of a magistrate or clergyman, is a mere formality, and might be altogether dispensed with, and all legal protection guaranteed by the medical certificate, and an order signed by a parish officer to authorize the asylum authorities to receive the patient at the charge of the parish sending him. but if this were objected to, then assuredly the examination of the lunatic immediately upon or just before his admission into the asylum by the district medical officer, would supply every desideratum in the interests of the patient, and such an examination would, according to our scheme, be always made at this stage of the patient's history. lastly, let it be remembered that a magistrate's order is not required for the admission of a private patient into an asylum or licensed house. a relative or friend may sign the order and statement, and the alleged lunatic is thought to be sufficiently protected by the two medical certificates. now, were a magistrate's or a clergyman's order any real security against the commission of a wrong to an individual, it would be much more necessary in the instance of private patients possessing property, and whose confinement might serve the interests of others, than in the case of paupers, for whose confinement in an asylum no inducement, but rather the contrary feeling, exists. in fact, the confirmation given to the propriety of placing a pauper lunatic in an asylum by the district medical officer, as proposed, might be considered supererogatory, considering that a certificate is required from the superintendent of the asylum shortly after admission, had it no other purpose in view. according to the proposition advanced by us, an experienced opinion by an independent authority would be obtained in lieu of one formed by an inexperienced magistrate (who would generally prefer escaping an interview with a madman, mostly act upon the medical opinion set forth, or if not, be very likely to make a blunder in the case), or of one certified by two inexperienced, paid, and therefore not sufficiently independent, workhouse functionaries. the clause proposed by the commissioners (supp. rep. 1859, p. 37), "that the medical officer of the workhouse shall specify, in the list of lunatic inmates kept by him, the forms of mental disorder, and indicate the patients whom he may deem curable, or otherwise likely to benefit by, or be in other respects proper for, removal to an asylum," is virtually unobjectionable; but, with due submission, we would advocate that, whether with or without this list and those expressions of opinion, the district medical officer's report should be considered the more important document whereon to act. the evidence given before the late committee of the house of commons (1859) shows that we must not expect much book-keeping or reporting from the parochial medical officers, and that many misconceptions and erroneous views prevail, and will damage results collected from them. the union medical officer will necessarily have his own opinions respecting the nature and prospects of the lunatics under his observation, and no great objection can be taken to his recording them, if thought worth while: yet they would be sure to be given, even without any legal requisition; and might often help, when privately expressed, the district examiner in his inquiries; and it would, besides, be better to avoid the chances of collision between the written opinions of two officers who should work together harmoniously. also, in the instance of private patients to be placed in an asylum, licensed house, or elsewhere with strangers, we look upon the visitation and examination of such a medical officer as we suggest as a valuable additional protection and security to them. he would constitute an authority in no way interested in the detention, and, by the nature of his office, bring to bear upon any doubtful cases an unusual amount of special knowledge and experience. we cannot help thinking that such a functionary would be much more efficient and useful than a magistrate (to whom some have proposed an appeal), as a referee to determine on the expediency of placing a person under certificate as of unsound mind. another class of duties to devolve on a district medical officer comprises those required to watch over the interests and welfare of pauper lunatics sent to, or resident in, workhouses. at p. 73, we have advanced the proposition, that, in future, no alleged lunatics should be removed to a workhouse, except as a temporary expedient under particular conditions, such as of long distance from the asylum or unmanageable violence at home; and that in all cases a certificate to authorize any length of detention in a workhouse should emanate from the district medical officer. the object of this proposal is to prevent the introduction of new, and particularly of acute cases of insanity, into workhouses; for, as we have shown in the section 'on the detention of patients in workhouses' (p. 40, _et seq._), the tendency is, when they are once received, to keep them there. according to our scheme, the district officer would receive notice of all fresh cases from the medical practitioner in attendance upon them, and, in general, visit them at their homes before removal to the workhouse or elsewhere. with respect to the actual inmates of the workhouse, it would be equally his duty to ascertain their mental and bodily state, to suggest measures to ameliorate their condition, and to report on those whom he might consider fit for removal either to the county asylum or to lodgings out of the union-house. he would make his report both to the committee of visitors of the workhouse, hereafter spoken of, and to the lunacy commissioners. it should devolve primarily upon the committee to act upon the reports, or, on their omission so to do, the commissioners in lunacy, either with or without a special examination made by one or more of their number, should be empowered to enforce those changes which might in their opinion be absolutely necessary. again, by suggestion 5 (p. 73), we provide that no person shall be detained as a lunatic or idiot, or as a person of unsound or weak mind, except under an order and a medical certificate to the existence of mental derangement, just such as is needed to legalize confinement in an asylum. the order would best come from the district medical examiner, whilst the certificate would, as usual, be signed by the union medical officer. now, by one of the propositions contained in the supplementary report of the commissioners in lunacy (1859, p. 37), it is sought to render a similar protection by another expedient; viz. that the alleged lunatic "shall be taken before a justice or officiating clergyman, and adjudged by him as not proper to be sent to an asylum." by the next paragraph, it is further proposed that, "in any case wherein an order for a lunatic's reception into an asylum shall be made by a justice or officiating clergyman, it shall be competent for him, if, for special reasons, to be set forth in his order, he shall deem it expedient, to direct that such lunatic be taken, _pro tempore_, to the workhouse, and there detained for such limited period, not exceeding two clear days, as may be necessary, pending arrangements for his removal to the asylum." now, with all becoming deference to the position and experience of the commissioners, we must confess to a predilection for our own plan, which, indeed, was drawn out before the appearance of the supplemental report. this preference we entertain for the reasons shown when speaking of the relative qualifications of magistrates and clergymen to make the order for admission into asylums; viz. that on the one hand there are no à priori grounds for supposing their discrimination of insanity, and of its wants and requisite treatment, to be better than that of other people; that some direct objections attach to clergymen, and that experience proves that neither justices nor clergymen have hitherto so performed the duty as to afford any inducement to increase its extent; and, on the other, that in the district medical officer we have an independent and skilled person to accomplish the work. nevertheless the suggestion offered by the commissioners is a great improvement upon the practice in vogue, which leaves the determination of the place and means of treatment, and of the capability of a patient to be discharged or removed, to the parish authorities. on this matter we have commented in previous pages, and illustrated at large in the history of the condition of the insane in workhouses, or boarded with their friends outside. by suggestion 4 (p. 73), we propose that no lunatic or other person of unsound mind in a workhouse should be allowed to be discharged or removed without the sanction of the district medical officer. this proposition we regard as of great importance; for we have seen (p. 90, _et seq._) with what recklessness, contempt of common sense, and cruelty, poor lunatics are removed from workhouses to asylums under the operation of existing arrangements. again, some directing, experienced and independent authority is needed (p. 89) to overrule the removal of imbecile and other inmates to the houses of their relatives or of strangers; to indicate the cases to be sent, and to examine the accommodation, and ascertain the character and fitness of the persons offering to receive them. these functions also we would delegate to the district medical officer. once more, imbecile, partially idiotic, and occasionally patients more rightly called lunatic, are sent away, or allowed to discharge themselves from, the workhouse, with the sanction of the authorities of the house and of the guardians. the terrible evils of this proceeding are alluded to at p. 77, and more fully entered into in the commissioners' supplementary report (1859), and in the evidence before the committee on lunatics (1859, queries 1594-1596). the district medical officer would here again come into requisition, and, under a distinct enactment of the law, resist the discharge, unless satisfied that the relatives of the disordered or imbecile paupers, particularly when females, could afford proper supervision and accommodation, and exercise due control over them. the sixth suggestion we have made (p. 73) contemplates the visitation of lunatics in workhouses, not only by the lunacy commissioners, as heretofore, but also by a committee of magistrates, and the district medical officer. the powers committed to the lunacy commissioners by existing acts to inspect workhouses are very inadequate and unsatisfactory; for, as the commissioners observe, they can make recommendations, but have no authority to enforce attention to them, and the only course open to them is, to get their views represented through the medium of the poor law board; and, although this board co-operates most readily in their recommendations, yet it has no positive power to enforce them. the result is, the commissioners find that the circuitous and troublesome proceeding to which they are restricted renders their endeavours in behalf of workhouse lunatics almost nugatory. to rectify this objectionable state of things, the first principle to be recognised is, that the lunacy board shall be charged with the custody of all lunatics, whose interests it shall watch over and have the necessary power to promote, however and wherever they may be found. it should not have to exercise its authority, to enforce its orders and regulations, through the medium or by the agency of any other board. no competing authority should exist. all lunatics should be reported to the commissioners; all should be subject to their visitation, or to that of any assistants appointed under them; and the power of release should be lodged in their hands in respect of all classes of patients when they see reason to exercise it. in the instance of pauper lunatics in workhouses, they should be able to interpose in their behalf, to require every necessary precaution to be taken for their security, and due accommodation and treatment provided. the district medical officer would be their local representative; would make frequent inspections, and report to them and act under their direction. he would indeed be responsible to them in all duties connected with the interests of the insane. we have (p. 73) proposed a committee of visitors of workhouses, for each county or for each division of the county, selected from the magistrates and from the respectable classes of ratepayers, not being guardians or overseers, although chosen with a view to represent parochial interests. this committee should visit, at least once a quarter, every workhouse containing a person of unsound mind or an idiot, in the district under its jurisdiction; and it would be desirable that the district medical inspector should visit in company with the committee, besides making other visits by himself at other times. we are happy to find that this suggestion tallies in general with one made by the commissioners in lunacy in their recent supplementary report, as well as with the views of dr. bucknill. but we conceive it rather a defect in the commissioners' scheme that they propose that "the visiting commissioner and the poor law inspector be empowered to order and direct the relieving officer to take any insane inmate before a justice, under the provision of the 67th section of the lunatic asylums act, 1853." for, according to the principle enunciated in the last page, the lunacy commissioners, as the special guardians of the insane, should alone be concerned in the direct administration of the laws of lunacy, and on this ground we object to the power proposed to be conferred on the poor law inspectors; and we take a further objection to their being called upon to form an opinion respecting the lunatics who require asylum treatment, and those who do not. there is truly no impediment, in the abstract, to their forming an opinion; yet, on the other hand, we would not have them to act upon it, but desire them to report the circumstances falling under their notice to the lunacy commissioners, who would thereupon examine into them, and decide on the steps to be taken. by the plan, however, which we have drawn out, and by the functions proposed to be entrusted to the district medical officer, the whole clause last discussed would be rendered superfluous. the seventh suggestion (p. 73) submitted to consideration is, that every workhouse containing lunatics should, under certain necessary regulations, be licensed as a place of detention for them, by the committees of visitors of workhouses when situated in the provinces, and by the lunacy commissioners when in the metropolitan district, and that the licence should be revoked by the committees, after reference to the lunacy board, in the case of workhouses licensed by them, and by the commissioners solely in the instance of any workhouse whatever. this plan confers the requisite power on the commissioners to control the accommodation and management of workhouse wards for lunatics, and resembles the one pursued at present with regard to asylums. it would likewise permit them to order the closure of lunatic wards, and the removal of all lunatics from a workhouse, when they were persuaded that proper asylum or other accommodation was available for the insane inmates. whatever course they adopted, or whatever decision they arrived at on such matters, they would be chiefly guided by the results of the inspection and the reports thereon made by the district medical officer, and further established by their own visitation. the present number of commissioners is far too small for them to visit each workhouse even once a year; and, if our views respecting the necessity of a complete examination of every one of such institutions, at least four times a year, be correct, it would still be impossible to get this work done by them, even though their number was trebled; therefore, as just said, the inspection made by the district medical officer would afford the chief materials for their guidance in dealing with workhouse lunatics, and save them an immense amount of labour. our eighth suggestion (p. 73) is to the effect that all lunatics in workhouses should be reported to the lunacy commissioners, and that this should be done by the district medical officer (p. 97). the number, age, sex, form and duration of malady, previous condition in life and occupation, and all particulars touching the mental and bodily condition of the patients, would be thus duly registered. the advantages of such a system of reporting are obvious, and, as this branch of the district officer's work has partially come under notice before, it need not be enlarged upon here. the law provides for the occasional visitation of pauper lunatics in asylums chargeable to parishes, by a certain number of the officers, and among them the medical officer of the parish to which, as paupers, they are chargeable; and something, by way of remuneration for their trouble, is allowed out of the funds of the union or parish. this arrangement keeps up a connexion between a parish and the lunatics chargeable to it in the county asylum, which in various respects is desirable, and probably satisfactory to the ratepayers. but the lunatic inmates of an asylum chargeable to the county do not receive the benefit of any such wise provision: when once in the asylum, they find none interested in their condition save the staff of the asylum, its visitors, and the commissioners. the last-named, in their annual visit, can have no time to consider them apart,--not even to discover and distinguish them from the rest. very many of them are foreigners, and their condition is consequently more deserving commiseration, as being, most likely, without friends, to interest themselves in their behalf. if the inquiry were made of the superintendents of county asylums, we believe it would be found that the omission of the law in providing for the more immediate watching of these poor lunatics is attended with disadvantages and injuries to them. to supply this want, we are disposed to recommend the district medical inspector as their special visitor; for he would be identified, on the one hand, with the county in which his duties lie, and, on the other, with the lunacy board, in such a manner as to be able to lay before it, in the readiest and best manner, any circumstances respecting these county pauper lunatics which it might seem desirable to report, and, when they were foreigners, to bring about a communication with the foreign office, and secure their removal to their own country. the visitation of these lunatics would rightly entitle the district officer to remuneration, which might be the same as that now paid per head for the visitation of out-door pauper lunatics, viz. half-a-crown per quarter. this amount would be payable by the county to which the patients were chargeable, and would add to the fund applicable for the general purposes of the lunacy board. the supplementary report of the lunacy commissioners (1859, p. 13-14) contains some observations relative to the decision, in the instance of workhouse inmates, of the question who among them are to be reckoned as "lunatics, insane persons, and idiots" on the parish books? it is at present a task left to the guardians, the master, or to the parish medical officer; but the commissioners rightly recommend that it should be entrusted to the last-named officer. however, we should prefer to see the duty delegated to the district medical inspector, as better qualified, in general, by experience, and, what would be of more importance, as being independent of parochial functionaries: for the duty is a delicate and responsible one; and, the disposition of guardians being economical where money is to be expended on the poor, they always desire to escape the heavier charge entailed by lunatics, and, where they can manage it, are pleased to witness the discharge of imbecile paupers, and of others more correctly called insane, whom they may choose for the time to consider as sane enough to be at large. the difficulties besetting this question of determining what paupers are to be considered insane, and what not, is remarked upon by the scotch lunacy commissioners in their recently-published first report (1859), and was referred to in the english commissioners' report for 1847 (p. 239 & p. 257). the enormous evils attending the present loose mode of deciding the question are sketched in the supplementary report quoted, and in previous pages of this book. we now come to the duties of the district medical officer in reference to the pauper insane not in workhouses or asylums, but boarded with relatives or strangers: as, however, we have, treated of them at some length in the section on the condition of those lunatics (p. 83, _et seq._), we will refer the reader back to that portion of the book. suffice it here to say, that the district medical officer is very much needed as an independent and competent functionary to supervise and regulate the state and circumstances of this class of poor patients. he should visit every poor person wholly or partially chargeable, or proposed to be made chargeable, to the parish, as being of unsound mind (p. 84), and make a quarterly return to the parochial authorities and to the lunacy board (p. 87). he should also take in hand the selection of the residence and the examination into the circumstances surrounding the patient (p. 89). if the scheme of boarding the pauper insane in the vicinity of the county asylums, in cottage-homes (see p. 90, and p. 145), were carried out, the extent of the duties of the district inspector would be much curtailed, inasmuch as a majority of such lunatics would fall within the sphere of the asylum superintendents in all matters of supervision. the subsequent publication of the "evidence before the select committee on lunatics," 1859, enables us to refer the reader to other illustrations of much weight, to show the pressing demand for an efficient inspection of single cases, and for securing satisfactory returns of their condition, particularly when paupers. the necessity for inspection is proved by lord shaftesbury's exposure of the wretched state of single patients (at p. 33, _et seq._), and the want of returns by the evidence of mr. gaskell (p. 134, _et seq._). the passages bearing on these points are too long for quotation at this part of our work, and are very accessible (blue book above-mentioned) to every reader desirous of seeing other evidence than that adduced in preceding pages. the appointment of the district medical officer would have this further benefit with reference to out-door pauper lunatics, that it would set aside discussions respecting the persons who should receive relief as such; a circumstance, upon which turns, as noticed before (p. 84), the question of the quarterly payment of two shillings and sixpence for each lunatic visited. the district officer would possess an entire independence of parish officials, and could not be suspected of any interested motive in making his decision. in undertaking the inspection of this class of pauper lunatics, he would certainly displace the parish medical officers, and the small fee payable to these last would fall into the treasury of the lunacy board; yet the loss to an individual union medical officer would be scarcely appreciable; for the number of lunatics boarded out in any one parish or portion of a parish coming under his care, would, in every case, be very small; whilst, on the other hand, the sum in the aggregate paid into the hands of the commissioners, on account of all such patients in the kingdom, would,--supposing, for example, our estimate of 8000 to be tolerably correct,--form a not inconsiderable sum; taking the number mentioned, it would amount to £4000 per annum,--a useful contribution to the fund for meeting the expenses of district medical inspectors, and sufficient to pay the salary of eight such officers. but the fee might be doubled without being burdensome to any parish. although the commissioners in lunacy might occasionally visit private lunatics in their own homes, and more especially those boarded with strangers, yet it would be impossible for them, even if their number were doubled, to exercise that degree of supervision which is called for. this would particularly be the case, were the system of registration, or of reporting all persons under restraint on account of mental disorder or mental weakness, carried out; and the only plan that appears for securing the desired inspection of their condition, and of the circumstances and propriety of their detention, is that of imposing the duty upon the district medical officer. we have already suggested that this officer should see all such cases when first registered; by so doing, he would be brought into contact with the patients and their families, and would, as a county physician, also constitute a less objectionable inspector than even the commissioners themselves in their character as strangers and as members of a public board. the medical inspector's visit should be made at least four times a year, and a moderate fee be paid on account of it to the general fund of the lunacy board. if it were only half-a-guinea per quarter for each patient, it would produce a considerable sum available for the purposes of the commission. there is yet one other duty we would delegate to the district medical officer, viz. that of visiting the private asylums not in the metropolitan district, in company with the committee of visiting justices, who, according to the requirement of the present law, must join with themselves a physician, in making their statutory visits. we conceive that the assistance of such a physician as we would wish appointed in the capacity of district medical officer, would render the magisterial visits more satisfactory, and establish a desirable connexion between the visiting justices and the lunacy board. we do hear, at times, of a species of rivalry or of opposition between the visitors of private asylums and the commissioners, to the detriment of proprietors. if such an evil prevails, one means of checking it would, we believe, be found in the position and authority of the district medical officer when called on, as suggested, to act as the visiting physician with the magistracy as well as the local representative of the commissioners in lunacy. on reviewing the duties to be undertaken by a district medical officer, the propriety of the remarks with which we began this chapter will appear:--viz. that he should occupy as independent a position as possible; that, as a medical man, he should be free from all sentiments of rivalry, and therefore not be engaged in practice,--or at least not in general practice. it would be much better that he should not practise at all on his own account, but should be so remunerated that he might devote all his time and attention to the duties of his office. he should receive a fixed annual stipend, and not be dependent on fees. by this course, he could not be accused of having any interest in the seclusion of the insane under his supervision. so, again, in order to confer on him the necessary independence in the discharge of his duties, his appointment should be made by the lunacy board with the concurrence of the home secretary or of the lord chancellor,--not by the magistrates, nor by any parochial authorities. it should also be a permanent appointment, held during good behaviour, and revocable by the commissioners only, after an investigation of any charges of misconduct, and upon conviction. the acquisition of the services of suitable and competent medical men might be started as a difficulty in carrying out our scheme; yet it is really of so little moment that it scarcely needs discussion. the development of the country perpetually opens up new offices and creates a demand for fitting men to fill them; but, by the law of political economy, that where there is a demand there will be a supply, individuals rapidly come forward who are adapted, or soon become adapted, to the new class of duties. and so it would be on instituting the post of district medical officer in each county or division of a county; for it is to be remembered that the rapid extension of asylums has raised up a class of medical practitioners specially conversant with the insane; so that, when a vacancy occurs in any one such institution, qualified candidates spring up by the dozen, and the difficulty is, not to find a suitable man, but to decide which of many very suitable applicants is the most so. moreover, the anxiety, the mental wear and tear, and the greater or less seclusion of an asylum superintendent's life, are such, that his retirement after some fifteen or twenty years' service is most desirable, although his age itself may not be so far advanced but that many years of active usefulness are before him: to many such a retired superintendent, the post of district medical inspector, even at a very moderate salary, would be acceptable, whilst its duties would be most competently performed by him. our business has been to point out wherein a necessity appears for the appointment of a district medical officer in the interests of the insane, and to indicate, in general, the duties which would devolve upon him in regard to them; but we may be allowed to hint at another set of duties which, we are of opinion, might most advantageously be allotted to him, and afford an additional argument in favour of creating him a public servant, so paid as legitimately to demand his withdrawal from private medical practice. the duties we mean are in connexion with medico-legal investigations in cases of sudden and of violent death, of criminal injuries, and of alleged lunacy; duties, by the way, which are exercised by the district or provincial physicians in continental states. we should, by such an arrangement, obtain the services of a medical man expert in all those inquiries and trials which come before the coroner's court and the higher courts of law; we should obtain a skilled and experienced physician, occupying a position perfectly independent of either side, in any trial or investigation where a medical opinion or the result of medical observation was called for. medical witnesses, in a legal inquiry, are not unfrequently blamed, and still oftener criticized, and perhaps unfairly so, by their professional brethren, respecting the manner in which they may have made an autopsy, or conducted the examination in other ways, touching the cause of death, or an act of criminal violence; and they are always exposed to the rivalry of their neighbours; and wishes that some skilled individual had been sent for in their stead to conduct the investigation, find their way into the public papers. again, it should be remembered that a medico-legal inquiry is an exceptional event in the practice of most medical men: they bring to it no particular experience, and generally they would much prefer to escape such investigations altogether, as they seriously interfere with their ordinary avocations, and obtain for them no adequate remuneration. yet withal, the plan proposed would far from entirely prevent their being engaged in the subjects comprehended in the term 'medical jurisprudence,' or deprive them of fees. as the actual practitioners of the country and always near at hand, they would be the first sent for in any case, the history or termination of which might involve a judicial inquiry; whilst, on the other hand, the district medical officer would have to be summoned and would act in the case only as the representative of the public interests and of the public security. lastly, the district medical officer in the discharge of his duties would not render the services of special medical jurists unnecessary; the chemist, for instance, would be as important in his special calling as he is at the present time, wherever death by poisoning was suspected. it would be beside our purpose in this treatise to enlarge upon the medico-legal duties which would devolve on the district medical officer in the position in which we would place him, or on the benefits that would accrue from his labour to public justice, and to the interests of the state. reflection upon the plan will, we believe, convince any reader, who knows how matters now are, that it would lead to an immense improvement. it appears to be a feature of our countrymen, both in public and private affairs, that they will avoid, as long as possible, recourse to a system or to a plan of organization; they seem to prefer letting matters go on as long as they will in their own way, and only awake to a consciousness that something is wanting when errors and grievances have reached their culminating point, and a continuation in the old course becomes practically impossible. then, when the evil has attained gigantic dimensions, when much injury has been inflicted, and an enormous waste in time and money has occurred, committees of inquiry and special commissioners are hastily appointed, a sort of revelry indulged in the revelations of past misadventures and past folly and neglect; and some scheme is seen to be imperatively necessary, the costliness of which must be endured; and, perhaps, the conviction all at once arises, that the cost of the needed plan of organization, which can be estimated, is in fact much less than what has been submitted to, without attempting an estimate, for a long time before. we lag behind most countries on the continent in our state medical organization; our individual instruments are better, yet they are not co-ordinated in any general system. we trust that this has been in some measure shown in the preceding pages, and that it has been made out, that if the insane, and more particularly those in private houses and those who are paupers, are to be efficiently looked after, and their protection from injuries and their proper care and treatment secured, some such scheme as we have indicated is now called for. surely evils have sufficiently culminated, when at least one-half of the insane inhabitants of this country have either no direct legal protection, are unknown to the publicly-appointed authorities under whose care they ought to be, or are so situated that their protection and their interests are most inadequately provided for. did not a necessity for an improved and extended organization on behalf of the interests of the insane exist, the plea of its cost would probably defeat an attempt to establish it, notwithstanding the plainest proofs of its contingent advantages, and of the fact that sooner or later its adoption would be imperative. but, looking at the question merely with reference to the cost entailed, we believe, that this would not be considerable, and that, as a new burden, it would indeed be very small: for, as we have pointed out, there are certain moneys now paid under acts of parliament, which would, by the organization advocated, become available towards defraying its expenses. for instance, the fee of ten shillings per annum, payable for the quarterly visits to every pauper lunatic not in asylums, would revert to the district officers; as likewise would the fee payable to the physician called upon by the visitors to the licensed houses in every county. we have also proposed a fee to be paid for a quarterly visit to all county patients in lunatic asylums, and to all private patients provided for singly, and are of opinion that a payment should be made for each lunatic or 'nervous' patient, when registered as such, whether pauper or not; the sum, in the case of a pauper, however, of a smaller amount than that for a private lunatic. considering the character and extent of the supervision and attention proposed to be rendered, and the numerous advantages, direct and indirect, which would necessarily accrue from the establishment of the organization suggested, there are certainly good grounds for enforcing payment for services rendered, so as to make the whole scheme nearly, or quite, self-supporting. to repeat one observation before concluding this chapter,--it should be so ordered, that all moneys levied on account of the visits of district medical officers, and of registration, should be paid to the credit of the lunacy board, through the medium of which those officers would receive their salaries. chap. x.--on the lunacy commission. we put forward our remarks upon this subject with all becoming deference; yet it was impossible to take a review of the state of lunacy and of the legal provision for the insane without referring to it. indeed, in previous pages several observations have fallen respecting the duties and position of the commission of lunacy, and the operation and powers of this board have also formed the topic of many remarks and discussions in other books, as well as in journals, and elsewhere. there appears to be in the english character such an aversion to centralization as to constitute a real impediment to systematic government. various questions in social science are allowed, as it were, to work out their own solution, and are not aided and guided towards a correct one by an attempt at system or organization. confusion, errors, and miseries must prevail for a time, until by general consent an endeavour to allay them is agreed upon, and a long-procrastinated scheme of direction and control is submitted to, and slowly recognized as a long-deferred good. such is the history of the care and treatment of the insane. after ages of neglect, evils had so accumulated and so loudly cried for redress, that some plan of conveying relief became imperative; and it is only within our own era, that the first systematic attempt at legislation for the insane was inaugurated. from time to time experience has shown the existence of defects, and almost every parliament has been called upon to amend or to repeal old measures, and to enact new ones, to improve and extend the legal organization for the care and treatment of lunatics and of their property. one most important part of this organization was the establishment of the lunacy commission, which has given cohesion and efficacy to the whole. to the energy and activity of this board are mainly due the immense improvements in the treatment of the insane which characterize the present time, and contrast so forcibly with the state of things that prevailed before this central authority was called into power. the official visitation by its members of all the asylums of the country has imparted a beneficial impulse to every superintendent; the commissioners have gone from place to place, uprooting local prejudices, overturning false impressions, and transplanting the results of their wide experience and observation on the construction and organization of asylums, and on the treatment of the insane, by means of their written and unwritten recommendations, and by their official reports, which form the depositories of each year's experience. an attempt to show the manifold advantages of this central board would be here out of place; but we may, for example's sake, adduce the recent investigation into the condition of lunatics in workhouses, as one of many excellent illustrations of the benefits derived from an independent central authority. but, whilst illustrating how much and how long the supervision of independent visitors has been, and, in fact, still is needed over lunatics in those receptacles, it also proves that the existing staff is inadequate to fulfil the task. we have, indeed, suggested the appointment of a class of district medical officers who would relieve the commissioners from the greatest part of the labour of inspecting workhouse lunatic wards, but we would not thereby entirely absolve them from this duty. an annual visit from one commissioner to each union-house containing more than a given number of lunatics would not be too much; and, to make this visit effectual, the commissioner should be armed with such plenary powers as to make his recommendations all but equivalent to commands, though subject to appeal. at present the lunacy commissioners are practically powerless; the law orders their visits to be made, and sanctions their recommendations, but gives neither to them nor to the officers of the poor law board the power to insist on their advice being attended to if no reasonable grounds to the contrary can be shown. in this matter, therefore, a reform of the law is called for. the court of appeal from the views of the commissioners might be formed of a certain number of the members of the poor law board and of the lunacy commission, combined for the purpose when occasion required. the proposition has been made (p. 179) to institute a committee of visitors of workhouses, chiefly selected from the county magistracy; and it is one that will no doubt be generally approved. but to the further proposition, that the supervision of workhouse lunatics should be entirely entrusted to these committees, and that the commissioners in lunacy should not be at all concerned in it, we do not agree; for, in the first place, we wish to see the lunacy commissioners directly interested in every lunatic in the kingdom, and acquainted with each one by their own inspection or by that of special officers acting immediately under their authority; and, in the second place, we desire to retain the visitation of the members of the commission in the capacity of independent and experienced inspectors. the advantages of an independent body of visitors, as stated in the commissioners' 'further report,' 1847 (p. 93), chiefly with reference to asylums (see p. 192), have much the same force when applied to the visitors of workhouses,--that is, if the insane in these latter receptacles are to be placed on an equality, as far as regards public protection and supervision, with their more fortunate brethren in affliction detained in asylums. but, besides the arguments based on the advantages accruing from an independent and experienced body of visitors, there is yet another to be gathered from the past history of workhouses and their official managers: for among the members of boards of guardians, to whom the interests of the poor in workhouses are confided, are to be found, in a large number of parishes, magistrates holding the position of ordinary or of honorary guardians; and, notwithstanding this infusion of the magisterial element, we find that almost incredible catalogue of miseries revealed to us by the lunacy commissioners to be endured by the greater number of lunatics in workhouses. in fact, to assign the entire supervision of workhouse lunatic inmates to a committee of visiting justices is merely to transfer the task to another body of visitors, who have little further recommendations for the office than the boards of guardians as at present constituted. from these and other considerations, we advocate not only the visitation of lunatics in workhouses by the district medical officers proposed, but also, at longer intervals, by one or more of the commissioners or of their assistants; and, if this idea is to be realized, an increase of the commission will be necessary, at least until union-houses are evacuated of their insane inmates. the beneficial results flowing from the visitation of asylums by the lunacy commissioners is a matter of general assent; and the opinion is probably as widely shared, that this visitation should be rendered more frequent. a greater frequency of visits would allay many public suspicions and prejudices regarding private asylums, and would, we believe, be cheerfully acquiesced in by asylum proprietors, who usually desire to meet with the countenance and encouragement of the commissioners in those arrangements which they contrive for the benefit of their patients. the proceeding in question would, likewise, furnish the commissioners with opportunities for that more thorough and repeated examination of cases, particularly of those which are not unlikely to become the subject of judicial inquiries. the ability to do this might, indeed, often save painful and troublesome law processes; for, surely, the careful and repeated examinations of the commissioners, skilled in such inquiries, when terminating in the conclusion that the patient is of unsound mind, and rightly secluded, should be accounted a sufficient justification of the confinement, and save both the sufferer and his friends from a public investigation of the case. the decision of the lunacy commissioners, we are of opinion, should be held equivalent to that of a public court, and should not be set aside except upon appeal to a higher court, and on evidence being shown that there are good reasons for supposing the original decision to be in some measure faulty. is not, it may be asked, the verdict of a competent, unprejudiced body of gentlemen, skilled in investigating lunacy cases, of more value than that of a number of perhaps indifferently-instructed men, of no experience in such matters, under the influence of powerful appeals to their feelings by ingenious counsel, and confounded by the multiplicity and diversity of evidence of numerous witnesses, scared or ensnared by cross-examination in its enunciation? again, the more frequent visitation of the insane by the commissioners would be productive of the further benefit of obviating the imputation that patients are improperly detained after recovery; and it would also, in some cases, be salutary to the minds of patients, fretting under the impression of their unnecessary seclusion; for the inmates of asylums naturally look to the commissioners for release, anticipate their visits with hope, and regret the long interval of two, three, or more months, before they can obtain a chance of making their wants known, particularly since they are conscious how many affairs are to be transacted during the visit, and that only one or two of their number can expect to obtain special consideration. there is, moreover, a new set of duties the commissioners propose to charge themselves with, involved in the clause of the bill introduced in the last session of parliament (clause 26), requiring information to be given them of the payment made for patients in asylums, in order to their being able to satisfy themselves that the accommodation provided is equivalent to the charges paid. this task will necessarily entail increased labour on the commission, and lead, not only to inquiries touching the provision made for the care and comfort of the patients within the asylum, but also to others concerning the means in the possession of their friends, and the fair proportion which ought to be alloted for their use. in short, we cannot help thinking that the duties proposed will frequently lead the commissioners to take the initiative in a course of inquiries respecting the property of lunatics available for their maintenance. according to present arrangements, although every asylum in the country is under the jurisdiction of the commissioners in lunacy, yet, beyond the metropolitan district, their jurisdiction is divided, and the county magistrates share in it. indeed, provincial asylums are placed especially under the jurisdiction of the magistrates, by whom the plans of licensed houses are approved, licences granted or revoked, and four visitations made in the course of each year; whilst the commissioners, although they can, by appeal to the chancellor, revoke licences in the provinces, are not concerned in granting them, and make only two visits yearly to each licensed house beyond the metropolitan district. this variety in the extent of the jurisdiction of the lunacy board in town and country, is, to our mind, anomalous, and without any practical advantage. if the magisterial authority is valuable in the regulation of asylums at one portion of the country, it must be equally so at another; the 'non-professional element' (evid. com., query 126), if of importance in the country, must be equally so in the neighbourhood of the metropolis. we do not argue against the introduction of magisterial visitation of asylums, but against the anomaly of requiring it in the country and not in town, and against treating provincial asylums as not equally in need of the supervision of the central board with the metropolitan. we perceive a distinction made, but cannot recognize a difference. there is a single jurisdiction in the instance of one set of asylums, and a divided one in that of another; and yet the circumstances are alike in the two. the real explanation of this anomaly in the public supervision and control of asylums, is, we believe, to be found in the fact of the inadequacy of the lunacy commission to undertake the entire work. the superiority of the commissioners, as more efficient, experienced, and independent visitors, will be generally admitted; but they are too few in number to carry out the same inspection of all the private asylums in the country, as they do of those in the metropolitan district. the commissioners are free from local prejudices, unmixed in county politics, and constitute a permanent, unfluctuating board of inspection and reference; whereas county and borough magistrates owe their appointment usually to political considerations and influence: politics are a subject of bitter warfare among them in most counties; local and personal prejudices and dislikes are more prone to affect them as local men; and, withal, the committees of visiting justices are liable to perpetual change, and, out of the entire number elected on a committee, the actual work is undertaken only by a few, who therefore wield all the legal powers entrusted to the whole body. a passage from the 'further report' of the lunacy commissioners (1847) recently referred to (p. 189) may be serviceably quoted in this place. speaking of the extracts selected by them for publication in the report, "to show that occasions are continually arising, where the intervention of authority is beneficial," the commissioners proceed to remark that "the defects adverted to in the extracts may sometimes appear to be not very important; but they are considerable in point of number, and, taken altogether, the aggregate amount of benefit derived by the patients from their amendment, and from the amendment of many other defects only verbally noticed by the commissioners, has been very great. it is most desirable that no defect, however small, which can interfere with the comfort of the patient, should at any time escape remark. a careful and frequent scrutiny has been found to contribute more than anything else to ensure cleanliness and comfort in lunatic establishments, and good treatment to the insane. these facts will tend to show how advantageous, and indeed how necessary, is the frequent visitation of all asylums. it is indispensable that powers of supervision should exist in every case; that they should be vested in persons totally unconnected with the establishment; and that the visitations should not be limited in point of number, and should be uncertain in point of time: for it is most important to the patients that every proprietor and superintendent should always be kept in expectation of a visit, and should thus be compelled to maintain his establishment and its inmates in such a state of cleanliness and comfort as to exempt him from the probability of censure. we are satisfied, from our experience, that, if the power of visitation were withdrawn, all or most of the abuses that the parliamentary investigations of 1815, 1816, and 1827 brought to light, would speedily revive, and that the condition of the lunatic would be again rendered as miserable as heretofore." we have in past pages referred to magisterial authority in relation with the pauper insane, as frequently exercised prejudicially, and with reference to asylum construction and organization, as sometimes placed in antagonism to acknowledged principles and universal practice, much to the injury of the afflicted inmates. its operation is not more satisfactory when extended to the duties of inspection. we have heard complaints made that magistrates sometimes act very arbitrarily in their capacity of visitors to asylums, and that it is not uncommon for them, instead of acting in concert with the commissioners in lunacy, to place themselves in opposition to their views. in fact, the annual reports of the commissioners testify to the not unfrequent want of harmony between the visiting magistrates and the commissioners in lunacy; and the very facts, that the latter have to make special yearly reports to the lord chancellor on the neglect or unfitness of certain private houses, and that they have sometimes to apply to him to revoke licences, demonstrate that the magisterial authorities are at times backward and negligent in their duties. indeed, the impression to be gathered from the annual reports of the commission is, that almost the only efficient supervision and control of provincial asylums are exercised by the lunacy commissioners. the publication of the evidence before the select committee (1859) adds fresh proofs that magistrates make but indifferent visitors of asylums, and but imperfectly protect the interests of the insane; and that an extension of the jurisdiction and of the inspection by the lunacy commissioners is much needed. we would refer for particulars to queries and answers numbered from 2582 to 2605, and from 2788 to 2789. we have commented in previous pages on the manner in which the visiting justices of public asylums perform their duties, and need not repeat the statements already made; yet we may here remark that the visitation of the wards of county asylums is often so very carelessly made, that it has little or no value, and that it is frequently difficult to get the quorum of two justices to make it, the majority objecting on personal and other grounds. from the foregoing considerations we would advocate the extension of the commissioners' jurisdiction, and its assimilation to that in force within the metropolitan district. to extend it merely to thirty miles around the metropolis, as some have proposed, would be only to increase the anomaly complained of. the lunatics, and those in whose charge they live, in every district in england, should be under one uniform jurisdiction, with the authority and protection of one set of public officers and one code of rules. if magisterial supervision have a real value, let it be superadded to a complete scheme of inspection and control exercised by the lunacy commissioners; and if it exist anywhere, let no district be exempt from it; for the existence of any such exemption furnishes a standing argument against the value attributed to its presence. for instance, it may be fairly asked,--are the metropolitan licensed houses any the worse for the absence of magisterial authority, or, otherwise, are the provincial any better for its presence? according to lord shaftesbury's evidence,--and his lordship is favourable to the authority of the justices being perpetuated,--the system of licensing provincial houses is sometimes loosely conducted; the house is only known to the licensing magistrates by the plan presented, and its internal arrangements must be virtually unknown, inasmuch as no inspection is made of the premises. this furnishes an argument for handing over the licensing power to the commissioners in lunacy, who exercise this portion of their duties with the greatest care and after the most minute examination. but, besides this, the position of a magistrate does not afford in itself any guarantee of capacity for estimating what the requirements of the insane ought to be, or of judging of the fitness of a house for their reception. the act of licensing should certainly be conducted upon one uniform system and set of regulations; and the revocation of licences should likewise be in the hands of one body. no division of opinion should arise between a public board and a committee of justices respecting the circumstances which should regulate the granting or the refusing, the continuation or the revocation of a licence. a divided, and therefore jarring jurisdiction, cannot be beneficial; and the arguments for the introduction of the magisterial element depend on the popular plea for the liberty of local government,--a liberty, which too often tends to the annihilation of all effectual administration. if our views are correct, and if the jurisdiction of the commissioners in lunacy ought to be increased, then, as a result, the number of commissioners must also be augmented. in the need of this increase, very many, indeed the large majority of persons acquainted with the legal provisions made for the care and treatment of lunatics, concur; and reasons for it will still further appear upon a review of the other functions assigned to the commissioners, and of those with which we would charge them. by existing arrangements there are two state authorities concerned with lunatics, one particularly charged with their persons, whether rich or poor,--the lunacy commission;--the other with their estates, and therefore, with those only who have more or less property,--the office of the masters in lunacy. here, then, is another instance of divided jurisdiction, although it is one wherein there are no cross-purposes, the distinction of powers and duties being accurately defined in most respects. perhaps the separation of the two authorities is too distinct and too wide, and a united jurisdiction might work better; but on this point we forbear to speak, not having the knowledge of the laws of property and of their administration necessary to guide us to a correct conclusion. yet we may thus far express an opinion, that the visitation of lunatics, whether found so by inquisition or not, should devolve on the members of the lunacy commission. we can perceive no reason for having distinct medical visitors to chancery lunatics; as it is, a large number of such lunatics is found in asylums and licensed houses, and comes therefore under the inspection of the commissioners. thus, according to the returns moved for by mr. tite (1859), it appears there are 602 lunatics, in respect of whom a commission of lunacy is in force, and of these, 300 are inmates of asylums; therefore one-half of the entire number of such lunatics is regularly inspected by the lunacy commissioners, and the visits of the "medical visitors of lunatics" are nothing else than formal; we would therefore suggest that two assistant commissioners should be added to the lunacy board, who should receive the salaries now payable to the chancery lunatics' medical visitors, be disallowed practice, and be entirely engaged as medical inspectors under the direction of the board; or that, in other words, the moneys derived from the lunacy masters' office should be paid over to the commission for its general purposes, upon its undertaking to provide for the efficient protection and visitation of all lunatics, so found on inquisition. the plan of bringing all lunatics and all so-called 'nervous' patients, whether placed out singly or detained in asylums of any sort under the cognizance and care of the commission, as enlarged upon in previous pages, would materially augment the labours of the central office; and, in our humble opinion, a greater division of labour than has hitherto marked the proceedings of the commission would greatly facilitate the work to be done. at present, the members of the commission perform a threefold function; viz. of inspectors, reporters, and judges. the task of inspecting asylums and their insane inmates, of ascertaining the treatment pursued and examining the hygienic measures provided, is peculiarly one falling within the province of medical men, and should be chiefly performed by medical commissioners. on the other hand, the business of the board, in its corporate capacity, is only indirectly and partially medical. lord shaftesbury, indeed, goes so far as to say (query 14, evid. com.) "that the business transacted at the board is entirely civil in ninety-nine cases out of one hundred. a purely medical case does not come before us once in twenty boards." these considerations certainly appear to indicate a natural and necessary division of the board into a deliberative central body, sitting _en permanence_, once, twice, or oftener in the week, if necessary, and a corps of visitors and reporters to examine the state of asylums and the insane throughout the country. this division of the commission would obviate the chief objection to an increase of the number of members; viz. that a larger number of commissioners than at present would render the board unwieldy, and rather impede than facilitate its business as a deliberative assembly. we entertain, moreover, the opinion that it would be more satisfactory to those who sought instructions, or whose affairs or conduct were in any way the subject of investigation, to have to deal with such a permanent deliberative or judicial body as proposed, than with one combining, like the members of the present board, the various functions of inspectors, reporters, and judges; a condition, whereby any question agitated must, to a certain extent, be prejudged by the official reports of the very same persons called upon to examine it. again, if this proposed division of the lunacy board took place, it would furnish a better justification for increasing certain of its powers, as these would be wielded by a permanent deliberative body, instead of, as at present, by a commission exercising mingled functions. the value of the board would be increased as a court of reference in all matters, such as the construction and the size of asylums, where the authority of the state, by duly ordered channels, is called for to overrule the decisions of local administrative bodies. lastly, this arrangement would facilitate the amalgamation, proposed by some persons, of the office of the masters with the commission in lunacy; or it would, at least, render the co-operation and combined action of the two offices more simple and easy. there are other reasons for an increase of the staff of the lunacy commission, following from the amount of work which, by any revision of existing statutes, must fall within the compass of its operations. for instance, we regard the suggestion that we have made, that no uncured lunatic or 'nervous' patient should be removed from an asylum or other establishment, without the sanction of the commissioners and their approval of the place and conditions to which the removal is intended,--as very important for the protection of the insane. to carry out this duty will involve a certain amount of labour, particularly as it would often require some member of the commission to examine the patient and the locality in which it is proposed to place him, and to report on the expediency of his removal. often, perhaps, this business might be entrusted to the district medical officer, particularly in the country. on the other hand, in the metropolitan district, the work of district medical officers might be advantageously performed,--at least in all that concerns the insane,--by a couple of the assistant commissioners hereafter spoken of, in addition to their other duties elsewhere. another piece of evidence, to our apprehension, that the present commission is inadequate to the multifarious duties imposed upon it, is, that the commissioners have never hitherto effectually inspected gaols, nor succeeded in getting imbecile and lunatic criminals reported to them with the least approach to accuracy. the inspection of workhouses proved that it did not suffice to receive the reports of workhouse officials respecting the existence and number of insane inmates, but that, to ascertain these facts, personal examination by the commissioners was necessary; and there is no satisfactory reason for supposing the discrimination of insane prisoners to be much better effected than that of workhouse lunatics, in the many prisons distributed over the country. it comes out, in the course of the evidence before the select committee, 1859, that the commissioners know little about the insane inmates of gaols, and that reports of the presence of such inmates are but rarely supplied them. the law requires the commissioners to visit gaols where any lunatics are reported to them to exist; but the duty of reporting is made the business of no particular individual, and therefore, as a natural consequence, no one attends to it. in the evidence referred to, the case of ten alleged lunatics, committed to york castle and imprisoned there for a series of years, as criminals acquitted on the ground of insanity, elicited much attention, and lord shaftesbury alluded to the interference of the lunacy commission on behalf of several lunatics in different prisons. the fact we have brought to light from one government report, as stated at p. 6 of this treatise, is of much moment in discussing the present subject; viz. that there were as many as 216 persons of unsound mind in the ten convict prisons under the immediate control of the government, in the course of one year, and that of these the dartmoor prison wards contained as many as 106 such inmates. there is no allusion, in the commissioners' reports or in the printed evidence of the select committee, to show that these insane prisoners were visited by, or known to, any members of the lunacy board. but, besides these insane inmates thus distinctly made known to us to exist in so few prisons, there must be many more detained in the numerous houses of detention throughout the kingdom. these facts render it an obvious duty on the part of the commission of lunacy to ascertaining the number and condition of this unhappy class of lunatics, and to order suitable provision to be made for them. there is a disposition on the part of some visitors of gaols to erect, or set apart, special wards for lunatic prisoners; a system to be much more deprecated than even the establishment of lunatic wards in connexion with workhouses, and one which will require the active interposition of the lunacy board to discourage and arrest. it were easy to take up the duties of the commissioners in lunacy in detail, and to show that they cannot be efficiently performed by the existing staff; but the fact will be patent to any attentive reader of this chapter and of the foregoing dissertations on the provisions necessary for the care and supervision of lunatics in general. the scheme which we have, with all due deference to established authorities, sketched in outline, to increase the jurisdiction and usefulness of the lunacy commission, provides for a division of its staff; in the first place, by altering to a greater or less extent the character and position of the present board, so as to constitute it a fixed central commission or council, chiefly charged with adjudging and determining questions put before it; with superintending the public arrangements for the interests of the insane generally, and with providing for the good and regular management, organization, and construction of lunatic asylums; and in the next place, by instituting, in connexion with this head deliberative body (which need not, by the way, consist of so many members as the present commission), a corps of assistant commissioners, specially charged with the duties of visitation, inspection, and reporting, and with the carrying out of the resolutions determined on by the deliberative council. at the same time, the power of visiting and reporting might still be left with some commissioners under certain circumstances, as well as in making special investigations, and in examining matters of dispute raised upon the reports of the assistants. though differing from so high an authority as the noble chairman of the lunacy board, we must say that we cannot conceive of it as at all a necessary consequence, that, if the work of visitation to asylums and lunatics is performed by a class of inspectors or assistant commissioners, and not by the present members of the commission, it must be indifferently done, and prove a source of dissatisfaction:--that is, we have no such apprehensions, provided always that proper men are appointed, and that their official status is made what it ought to be, both in remuneration and in independence of position. nor can we agree to the giving up of the proposed plan on the score of its expense. if the whole of the lunatic and 'nervous' people suffering confinement in this country are to be brought within the knowledge and under the supervision of the lunacy commissioners, if the enlarged provisions of the law necessary for their proper care and treatment,--and even those only among them proposed by the commissioners themselves are to be carried into effect,--the commission must be increased. and, instead of adding new commissioners on the same footing and salary as the existing ones, we believe the public would be better served by the appointment of assistant commissioners with the duties we have proposed,--two of whom could be remunerated at the same outlay as one full commissioner. moreover, we have proposed that the sum payable out of the masters' office to medical visitors be devoted to the purposes of the commission; and, if our notion of a central deliberative body were accepted, one legal and one medical member of the present commission could well be spared to undertake more especially the duties of visiting commissioners. lastly, if the jurisdiction and powers of the commission were extended to all lunatics living singly and to so-called 'nervous patients,' a considerable addition to the treasury would be obtained, even by a small tax, or per-centage on income. probably six assistant commissioners, constantly employed in the work of inspection, with the aid of two visiting chief commissioners from the present board, would suffice for the discharge of the duties to be entrusted to them. if so, the cost of six such additional officers would be very trifling, covered as it would be by increased funds passing into the hands of the central office in the administration of the improved legislation. if precedent be a recommendation to a plan, it can be found in favour of appointing assistant commissioners in the example of the scotch lunacy commission, and in the constitution of the poor law board, which has a distinct class of officers known as inspectors. in fact, every other government board or commission, except that of lunacy, has a staff of assistants or of inspectors. chap. xi.--on some principles in the construction of public lunatic asylums. in the preceding pages of this book we have had occasion to discuss many important points respecting the organization of public asylums; and, as we entertain some views at variance with the prevalent system of asylum construction, a supplementary chapter to elucidate them cannot be misplaced. the substance of the following remarks formed the subject of a chapter on asylum construction published by us in the 'asylum journal' (vol. iv. 1858, p. 188) above a year since, and, as we then remarked, the principles put forward had been adopted by us some five or six years previously, and were strengthened and confirmed by the extended observations we had personally made more recently on the plans and organization of most of the principal asylums of france, germany, and italy. all the public asylums of this country are, with slight variations, constructed after one model, in which a corridor, having sleeping-rooms along one side, and one or more day-rooms at one end,--or a recess (a sort of dilatation or offset of the corridor at one spot), in lieu of a room, constituting a section or apartment fitted for constant occupation, day and night, forms--to use the term in vogue--a 'ward.' an asylum consists of a larger or smaller number of these wards, united together on the same level, and also superposed in one, two, three, and occasionally four stories. there are, indeed, variations observed in different asylums, consisting chiefly in the manner in which the wards are juxtaposed and disposed in reference to the block and ground plans, or in the introduction of accessory rooms, sometimes on the opposite side of the corridor to the general row of small chambers, to be used as dormitories or otherwise; but these variations do not involve a departure from the principle of construction adopted. those who have perambulated the corridors of monastic establishments will recognize in the 'ward-system' a repetition of the same general arrangements,--a similarity doubtless due in part to the fact of ancient monasteries having been often appropriated to the residence of the insane, and in part to the old notions of treatment required by the insane, as ferocious individuals, to be shut apart from their fellow-men. whilst the ideas of treatment just alluded to prevailed, there was good reason for building corridors and rows of single rooms or cells; but, since they have been exploded, and a humane system of treating the insane established in their place, the perpetuation of the 'ward-system' has been an anomaly and a disastrous mistake. the explanation of the error is to be found in the facts,--that medical men in england, engaged in the care of the insane, have contented themselves with suggesting modifications of the prevailing system,--than which indeed they found no other models in their own country; and that the usual course has been, to seek plans from architects, who, having no personal acquaintance with the requirements of the insane, and the necessary arrangements of asylums, have been compelled to become copyists of the generally-approved principle of construction, which they have only ventured to depart from in non-essential details, and in matters of style and ornamentation. the literature of asylum architecture in this country evidences the little attention which has been paid to the subject. the only indigenous work on asylum-building--for the few pages on construction in tuke's introduction to his translation of jacobi's book, and the still fewer pages in dr. brown's book on asylums, published above twenty years ago, do not assume the character of treatises--is the small one by dr. conolly, and even this is actually more occupied by a description of internal arrangements in connexion with the management of lunatics, than by an examination of the principles and plans of construction. this bald state of english literature on the subject of construction contrasts strongly with the numerous publications produced on the continent, and chiefly by asylum physicians, the best-qualified judges of what an asylum ought to be in structure and arrangements. however, to resume the consideration of the 'ward-system' as it exists, let us briefly examine it in its relations to the wants and the treatment of the insane. every day adds conviction to the impression, that the less the insane are treated as exceptional beings, the better is it both for their interests and for those who superintend them. in other words, the grand object to be kept in view when providing for the accommodation of the insane, is to assimilate their condition and the circumstances surrounding them as closely as possible to those of ordinary life. now, though it is clearly impracticable to repeat all the conditions of existence prevailing in the homes of the poorer middle and pauper classes of society who constitute the inmates of our public asylums, when these persons are brought together to form a large community for their better treatment and management, yet we may say of the 'ward-system,' that it is about as wide a departure from those conditions as can well be conceived. it is an inversion of those social and domestic arrangements under which english people habitually live. the new-comer into the asylum is ushered into a long passage or corridor, with a series of small doors on one side, and a row of peculiarly-constructed windows on the other; he finds himself mingled with a number of eccentric beings, pacing singly up and down the corridor, or perhaps collected in unsocial groups in a room opening out of it, or in a nondescript sort of space formed by a bulging-out of its wall at one spot, duly lighted, and furnished with tables, benches, and chairs, but withal not a room within the meaning of the term, and in the patient's apprehension. presently, he will be introduced through one of the many little doors around him into his single sleeping-room, or will find himself lodged in a dormitory with several others, and by degrees will learn that another little door admits him to a lavatory, another to a bath, another to a scullery or store-closet, another to a water-closet (with which probably he has never been before in such close relation), another to a _sanctum sanctorum_--the attendant's room, within which he must not enter. within this curiously constructed and arranged place he will discover his lot to be cast for all the purposes of life, excepting when out-door exercise or employment in a workroom calls him away: within it he will have to take his meals, to find his private occupation or amusement, or join in intercourse with his fellow-inmates, to take indoor exercise, and seek repose in sleep; he will breathe the same air, occupy the same space, and be surrounded by the same objects, night and day. this sketch may suffice to illustrate the relations of a ward as a place of abode for patients, and to exhibit how widely different are all the arrangements from those they have been accustomed to. let us now notice briefly the relations of the ward-system to the treatment required for insane inmates. the monotonous existence is unfavourable: the same apartment and objects night and day, and the same arrangements and routine, necessitated by living in a ward, are not conducive to the relief of the disordered mind. where access to the sleeping-rooms is permitted by day, the torpid and indolent, the melancholic, the morose and the mischievous, will find occasion and inducement to indulge in their several humours; opportunity is afforded them to elude the eye of the attendants, to indulge in reverie, and to cherish their morbid sentiments. when the rules of the institution forbid resort to their rooms by day, the idea of being hardly dealt with by the refusal will probably arise in their minds, since the inducement to use them is suggested by their contiguity; the doors, close at hand, will ever create the desire to indulge in the withheld gratification of entering them. how many insane are animated with a desire to lounge, to mope unseen, and to lie in bed, needs not to be told to those conversant with their peculiarities; and, surely, the removal of the temptation to indulge would be a boon both to physician and patients. again, the corridor and its suite of rooms present obstacles to ventilation and warming, and, as the former in general serves, besides the purpose of a covered promenade, that of a passage of communication between adjoining wards, it is less fitted for the general purposes of daily life, and the passage to and fro of persons through it is a source of disturbance to its occupants, and often objectionable to the passer-by. as a place of indoor exercise, the corridor has little real value, especially when considered in relation to the other objects it has to serve. those who desire to sit still, to read, to amuse or to employ themselves, feel it an annoyance to have one or more individuals walking up and down, and often disposed to vagaries of various sorts; few of the whole number care for perambulating it if they can get out of doors for exercise (and there are not many days when they cannot), and, as far as concerns the health of those few who use the corridor for exercise, it would be better to encourage them to walk in the grounds, than, by having such a space within doors, to induce their remaining there. when casual sickness or temporary indisposition overtakes a patient, and a removal to the infirmary ward is not needed, though repose is required, it is a great disadvantage to have an exercising corridor in such immediate contiguity with the bedroom, and to have the room open into the corridor; for it is an arrangement more or less destructive of quiet, and exposes the poor sufferer to the intrusion of the other inmates of the ward, unless the room-door be locked,--a proceeding rarely advisable under the circumstances supposed. the introduction of the plan of building an open recess in a corridor as a sitting apartment instead of an ordinary room was a consequence of the difficulties experienced in exercising an efficient supervision of the inmates when dispersed, some in the corridor, and others in the day or dining rooms. yet, although the plan in question partially removes these difficulties, no one could wish to exchange the advantages in comfort and appearance of a sitting-room with the greater approximation it affords to the ordinary structure of a house, for a recess in a corridor, if effectual supervision could in any other way be attained. but the plan of a corridor with an offset in lieu of a room does not secure a completely effective oversight, control, and regulation of the occupants, since it presents many opportunities, in its large space, and by the disposition of its parts, for those to mope who may be so disposed, and for the disorderly to annoy their neighbours, without arresting the attention of the one or two attendants. in the construction and arrangements of a ward, it is necessary to provide for all the wants of the inmates both by day and night, to supply the fittings and furniture needed by the little community inhabiting it; and all such arrangements and conveniences have consequently to be repeated in every one of the many wards found in the asylum, at a very large cost. again, by the ward-system, the patients are lodged on each floor of the building, and therefore the service of the asylum becomes more difficult, just in proportion to the number of stories above the ground-floor, or the basement, where the kitchen and other general offices are situated. it is chiefly to obviate this difficulty that the elevation of our public asylums has been limited to two stories, and a greater expenditure thereby incurred for their extension over a larger area. (see p. 212.) from whatever point of view the ward-system may be regarded, there is in it, to our view, an absence of all those domestic and social arrangements and provisions which give a charm to the homes of english people. the peculiar combination of day and night accommodation is without analogy in any house; whilst the sitting, working, or reading, and, occasionally, the taking of meals, in a corridor, a place used also for exercise, and for the passage of persons from one part of the asylum to another, represent conditions of life without parallel among the domestic arrangements of any classes of the community. the principle of construction we contend for is, the separation, as far as practicable, of the day from the night accommodation. instead of building wards fitted for the constant habitation of their inmates, we propose to construct a series of sitting or day rooms on the ground-floor, and to devote the stories above entirely to bedroom accommodation. not that we would have none to sleep on the ground-floor, for we recognise the utility of supplying accommodation there, both by night and day, for certain classes of patients, such, for instance, as the aged and infirm, who can with difficulty mount or descend stairs; the paralytics; some epileptics, and others of dirty habits, and the most refractory and noisy patients. the last-named are, in our opinion, best lodged in a detached wing, particularly during their paroxysms of noise and fury, according to the plan adopted in several french asylums. and we may, by the way, remark, that if such patients were so disposed of, one reason assigned for internal corridors as places requisite for indoor exercise, would be set aside, inasmuch as these are supposed practically to be most useful to that class of asylum inmates. in our paper on construction in the 'asylum journal,' before referred to, we illustrated (_op. cit._ p. 194) our views by reference to a rough outline of a part of a plan for a public asylum we had some years before designed; but it seems unnecessary to reproduce that special plan here, since, if the principle advocated be accepted, it becomes a mere matter of detail to arrange the disposition, the relative dimensions, and such like particulars, whether of the day-rooms below or of the chambers above. there is this much, however, worth noting, that, by the construction of adjoining capacious sitting-rooms, it is easy so to order it, that any two, or even three, may, by means of folding-doors, be thrown into one, and a suite of rooms obtained suited for public occasions, for dancing, for lectures, or theatricals. so again, even in the case of those who may be placed together in the same section of the establishment, and who join at meals, the construction of two or more contiguous sitting-rooms affords an opportunity for a more careful classification, in consideration of their different tastes, and of their capability for association, for employment, or for amusement. however, without delaying to point out the advantages accruing in minor details of internal arrangements when the principle is carried out, let us briefly examine its merits abstractedly, and in relation to the system in vogue. 1. it assimilates the condition of the patients to that of ordinary life, as far as can be done in a public institution. they are brought together by day into a series of sitting-rooms adapted to the particular class inhabiting them, and varied in fittings and furniture according to the particular use to which they are applied,--as, for instance, for taking meals, or for the lighter sorts of work, indoor amusements, and reading. for the sections, indeed, inhabited by the more refractory and the epileptic, a single day-room would suffice. when thus brought together in rooms, instead of being distributed along a corridor and its divergent apartments, association between the several patients can be more readily promoted; and this is a matter worth promoting, for the insane are morbidly selfish and exclusive. likewise, it becomes more easy for the attendants to direct and watch them in their amusements or occupations, and to give special attention or encouragement to some one or more of their number without overlooking the rest. besides this, rooms admit of being arranged and furnished as such apartments should be; whilst, whatever money may be laid out in furnishing and ornamenting corridors, they can never be rendered like any sort of apartment to be met with in the homes of english people. the separation of the sleeping-rooms from the day accommodation also has the similar advantage of meeting the wishes and habits of our countrymen, who always strive to secure themselves a sitting and a bed room apart: and, altogether, it may be said, that in a suite of day-rooms disposed after the plan advocated, and in the perfectly separated bedroom accommodation, there is, to use a peculiarly english word, a _comfort_ completely unattainable by the ward-system, however thoroughly developed. 2. greater salubrity and greater facilities for warming and ventilation are secured. it will be universally conceded that sleeping-rooms are more healthy when placed above the ground-floor, so as to escape the constant humidity and exhalations from the earth, particularly at night. the system suggested secures this greater salubrity for the majority of the population, who occupy the upper floors during the night; those only being excepted, whom, for some sufficient reason, it is desirable not to move up and down stairs, or not to lodge at night in the immediate vicinity of the rest of the patients. again, the separation of the apartments for use by day from those occupied at night favours the health of the establishment by rendering ventilation more easy and complete. in a ward occupied all day and all night, the air is subject to perpetual vitiation, and, whilst patients are present, it is, especially in bad weather, difficult or quite unadvisable to attempt thorough ventilation by the natural means of opening windows and doors,--a means which we believe to be preferable to all the schemes of artificial ventilation of all the ingenious engineers who have attempted to make the currents of air and the law of diffusion of gases obedient to their behests. but "the wind bloweth where it listeth," and all the traps set to catch the foul exhalations, and all the jets of prepared fresh air sent in from other quarters, will not serve their bidding: the airy currents will disport themselves pretty much as they please, and intermingle in spite of the solicitations of opposing flues to draw them different ways. but if, on our plan, the apartments for day use are kept completely distinct from those used by night, each set being emptied alternately, a most thorough renewal of air may be obtained by every aperture communicating with the external atmosphere. the actual construction of a ward creates an impediment to the perfect ventilation of all its apartments. there is a wide corridor, and along one side a series of small chambers, the windows of which are necessarily small, and sometimes high up; the windows, too, both in rooms and corridor, must be peculiarly constructed, and the openings in them for ventilation small. although it is easy in this arrangement to get a free circulation of air along the corridor, it is not so to obtain it for each room opening out of it. by the scheme of construction we propose, these difficulties are mostly removed. the day-rooms on the ground-floor need no corridor alongside, and, as a single series or line of apartments, are permeated by a current of air traversing them from side to side. but if, for the convenience of the service of the house, some passage were thought necessary, it would be external to the rooms, and in designing the asylum it should be an object to prevent such corridors of communication interfering with the introduction of windows on the opposite sides of each sitting-room. on the bedroom-floor above, a corridor, where necessary, would not be a wide space for exercise, such as is required for a ward, but merely a passage, giving access from one part of the building to another. so, with respect to the windows, except those in the single bedrooms, it would be perfectly compatible with security to construct them much after the usual style adopted in ordinary houses, and thereby allow large openings for the free circulation of air. further, when the patients inhabit ordinarily-constructed sitting-rooms, the warming of these may be effected by the common open fires, which are dear to the sight and feelings of every englishman, and impart a cheerful and home-like character. likewise, there would be no need of keeping the whole building constantly heated at an enormous expense; for only one half of it would be occupied at a time, nor would those most costly and complicated systems of heating be at all required. the saving in large public asylums would be something very large in this one item,--that of fuel to burn, without counting the expenditure which is generally incurred for the heating apparatus, flues, furnaces, and shafts. as with the warming, so with the lighting of an institution constructed on our model,--only one-half would require illumination at the same time, and much gas-fitting would be saved by the diminution of the number of small apartments, repeated, after the prevailing model, in every ward, and requiring to be lighted. 3. access to the airing courts, offices, workshops, &c., becomes easier to all the inmates. according to the established system of construction, the half, or upwards, of the patients have to descend from the wards on the upper floors for exercise or for work, and to ascend again to them for their meals, or to retire to rest. this ascent and descent of stairs may have to be repeated several times daily; and it must be remembered that it cannot take place without the risk of various inconveniences and dangers necessarily dependent on stairs, and that it must frequently entail trouble and anxiety upon the attendants, particularly in mischievous and in feeble cases. the plan advocated obviates all these evils, so far as practicable. the patients would have to go up and down stairs only once a-day, and the attendants, therefore, escape much of the constantly occurring trouble of helping the feeble, or of inducing the unwilling to undertake the repeated ascent and descent,--a task ever likely to be neglected, and to lead to patients being deprived, to a greater or less extent, of out-door exercise and amusement. 4. it facilitates supervision. supervision, both by the medical officers and by the attendants, becomes much more easy and effectual when the patients are collected in rooms, affording them no corners or hiding-places for moping and indulging in their mental vagaries, their selfishness and moroseness. when the medical officer enters the day-room, all the inmates come at once under his observation, and this affords him the best opportunity of noting their cases, and of discovering their condition and progress. by the attendants similar advantages are to be gained; the patients will be more immediately and constantly under their eye than when distributed in a corridor and connected rooms; their requirements will be sooner perceived, and more readily supplied; their peculiarities better detected and provided against; their insane tendencies more easily controlled and directed; whilst, at the same time, the degree and mode of association will call forth feelings of interest and attachment between the two. just as supervision becomes more easy by day, so does watching by night; for almost the whole staff of attendants would sleep on the same floor with the patients, and thereby a more immediate communication between them be established, and a salutary check on the conduct of the latter, from the knowledge of the attendants being close at hand, more fully attained. perhaps these advantages will appear more clear when it is understood that the subdivision of the bed-room floor into several distinct wards, cut off from each other by doors, stair-landings, &c., would not be at all necessary on the principle of construction recommended. the comparatively few noisy patients in a well-regulated asylum would occupy the sleeping-rooms of the ground-floor wings, if not placed in a distinct section; and therefore, the inhabitants of the floor above being all quiet patients, no partitions need separate their section of the building into distinct portions or wards, and act as impediments to the freedom of communication and ventilation. this matter of the partitions needed is, however, a point of detail, which would have to be determined pretty much by the general design adopted. 5. classification is more perfect. owing to the sleeping apartments being quite distinct from those occupied by day, the rule usually observed in a ward, as a matter of necessary convenience, of keeping the same group of occupants in it both night and day, need not at all be followed. on retiring from their sitting-rooms, where they have been placed according to the principles of classification pursued, the day association would be broken up, and their distribution in the sleeping-rooms might be regulated according to their peculiar requirements at night. this valuable idea, of arranging patients differently by day and by night, was put forward by dr. sankey, of hanwell ('asylum journal,' vol. ii. 1856, p. 473), in the following paragraph:--"whatever the basis of the classification, it will not hold good throughout the twenty-four hours: why, therefore, should it be attempted to make it do so? at night the classification should be based on the requirement of the patient during the night; and during the day, the patient should be placed where he can be best attended during the day." let us add, that the more perfectly dr. sankey's principle could be carried out, the more easy would supervision be rendered. since mechanical restraint has been set aside, seclusion in a specially-constructed chamber, or in the patient's own room, has in some measure taken its place, and been frequently abused; for it is more difficult to control the employment of seclusion than of instrumental restraint, and in a ward there is almost a temptation to employ it where a patient is inconveniently troublesome to the attendant; the single room is close at hand, and it is a simple matter to thrust the patient into it, and an easy one to release him if the footstep of the superintendent is heard approaching. the plan of construction we would substitute for the ward-system would almost of itself cure the evil alluded to. furthermore, since sitting-rooms and other apartments to meet the exigencies of daily use are excluded from the upper floors, it would become easier for the architect to dispose the single rooms and dormitories, and more especially the attendants' rooms, with a view to the most effectual supervision. we may, in fine, state under the two last heads, generally, that access to the patients, their quiet and comfort, their watching and tending and their classification will be more readily and also more efficiently secured by the arrangement pointed out, than by the system of construction hitherto pursued in this country. 6. domestic arrangements will be facilitated in various ways.--the patients, in the first place, will be less disturbed by the necessary operations of cleaning, which every superintendent knows are apt to be a source of irritation and annoyance, both to patients and attendants. the ground-floor may be prepared for the day's use before the patients leave their bedrooms; and in the same way the latter may be cleaned during the occupation of the ground-floor. by the present constitution of a ward for use both night and day, considerable inconvenience, and many irregularities in management constantly result. the cleaning has to be hurried over, or to be done at awkward hours, to avoid alike the interruption of patients, or the being interrupted by them; and, at the best, it will from time to time happen that patients are excluded from their day or their bedrooms, or from the corridors, during the operation. another advantage will accrue from the system proposed. the amount of cleaning will be much diminished, for the two floors will be used only alternately, and not only the wear and tear of the entire building, but also the exposure to dirt will be greatly lessened; above all, the small extent of corridor will make an immense difference in the labour of the attendants in cleaning, compared with that which now falls to their lot. again, the drying of floors after they have been washed is always a difficulty, particularly in winter, and is the more felt in the case of the bedrooms, which have, when single-bedded or small, but a slight current of air through them, and consequently dry slowly. this difficulty is augmented, when, as it often happens, it is necessary for them to be kept locked, to prevent the intrusion of their occupants or of others. the ill effects of frequently wetted floors in apartments constantly occupied, and therefore dried during occupation, have been fully recognized and admitted by hospital surgeons, and have impressed some so strongly, that, to escape them, they have substituted dry rubbing and polished floors to avoid the pail and scrubbing-brush. by the arrangements submitted, however, this difficulty in washing the floors is removed, since there is no constant occupancy of the rooms, and therefore ample time for drying permitted. further, by the plan in question, the distribution of food, of medicine, and of stores, becomes more easy and rapid; the collection, and the serving of the patients at meals, are greatly simplified and expedited. a regularity of management in many minor details will likewise be promoted. as the majority of the patients are quite removed from proximity to their sleeping-rooms, the temptation and inducement to indulge in bed by day, or before the appointed hour at night, will be removed, as will also the irregularity frequently seen in wards some time before the hour of bed, of patients prematurely stowed away in their beds, and of others disrobing, whilst the remainder of the population is indulging in its amusements, its gossips, or in the 'quiet pipe,' before turning in. 7. management facilitated.--our own experience convinces us that there is no plan so effectual for keeping otherwise restless and refractory patients in order as that of bringing them together into a room, under the immediate influence and control of an attendant, who will do his best to divert or employ them. we are, let it be understood, only now speaking of their management when necessarily in-doors; for, where there is no impediment to it, there is nothing so salutary to such patients as out-door exercise, amusement, and employment. on the contrary, to turn refractory patients loose into a large corridor, we hold to be generally objectionable. its dimensions suggest movement; the patient will walk fast, run, jump, or dance about, and will, under the spur of his activity, meddle with others, or with furniture, and the like; and if an attendant follow or interfere, irritation will often ensue. but in a room with an attendant at hand, there are neither the same inducements nor similar opportunities for such irregularities. some would say, such a patient is well placed in a corridor, for he there works off his superabundant activity. but we cannot subscribe to this doctrine; for we believe the undue activity may be first called forth by his being placed in a corridor; and that it is besides rare that a patient, particularly if his attack be recent, has any actual strength to waste in such constant abnormal activity as the existence of a space to exercise it in encourages. and, lastly, it is better to restrict the exhibition of such perverted movement to the exercising grounds, or better still to divert it to some useful purpose by occupation; for in a ward such exhibitions are contagious. these remarks bear upon the question of the purpose and utility of corridors as places for exercise, concerning which we have previously expressed ourselves as having a poor opinion, and have throughout treated corridors mainly as passages or means of communication. 8. a less staff of attendants required.--if the foregoing propositions, relative to the advantages of the system propounded, be admitted, the corollary, that a less staff of attendants will suffice, must likewise be granted, and needs not a separate demonstration. there is this much, however, to be said, that the proposition made in a former page to distinguish attendants upon the insane from the cleaners or those more immediately concerned in the domestic work of the house, would be an easier matter when the construction followed the principles recommended. the attendants upon the occupants of the sitting-rooms need be but few, for their attention would not be distracted from their patients by domestic details; for the cleaners would prepare the apartments ready for occupation, would be engaged in fetching and carrying meals, fuel, and other things necessary for use, and the attendants would thereby be deprived of numerous excuses for absence from their rooms, and for irregularities occurring during their occupation with household duties. 9. the actual cost of construction of an asylum on the plan set forth would be greatly diminished.--it has just been shown that the proposed plan will ensure a more ready and economical management; and if structural details could be here entered upon, in connexion with an estimate of costs for work and materials, it could without difficulty be proved, that the cost of accommodation per head, for the patients, would fall much under that entailed by the plan of building generally followed. the professional architect who assisted us made a most careful estimate of the cost of carrying out the particular plan we prepared (designed to accommodate 220 patients), and calculated that every expense of construction, including drainage of the site, gas apparatus, farm-buildings, &c., would be covered by £19,000, _i. e._ at the rate of less than £90 (£87) per head. that a considerable saving must attend the system propounded will be evident from the fact, that, instead of a corridor, on the first floor, at least twelve feet wide, as constructed on the prevailing plan, one of six feet, or less, simply as a passage for communication, is all that is required, and thus a saving of about that number of feet in the thickness or depth of the building, in each story above the ground-floor, is at once gained. a similar, though smaller, economical advantage is likewise obtained on the ground-floor, for the corridor there need be nothing more than an external appendage, and of little cost to construct. a further saving would attend the construction of an asylum on the plan set forth, both from the concentration of the several parts for night and day use respectively, and generally from the rejection of the ward-system. the construction of almost all the sleeping accommodation on one floor would render many provisions for safety and convenience unnecessary,--for instance, in the construction of the windows. so the substitution of what may be termed divisions, or quarters in lieu of wards, would do away with the necessity of many arrangements requisite for apartments, when intended for use, both by night and day. as constructed commonly, each ward is a complete residence in itself, replete with all the requisites for every-day life, except indeed in the cooking department; and the consequence is, there is a great repetition throughout the institution of similar conveniences and appurtenances. indeed, in the plan we designed, the influence of example or general usage led us to introduce many repetitions of several accessory apartments, which were, in fact, uncalled for, and added much to the estimate. for instance, we assigned a bath-room to each division, although we consider that a room, well-placed, to contain several baths (_i. e._ in french phrase, a 'salle des bains'), would more conveniently serve the purpose of the whole ground-floor inmates, and be much cheaper to construct and to supply. yet, if this notion of a 'bath-house' be unacceptable to english asylum superintendents, a smaller number of bath-rooms than was either provided in the particular plan alluded to, or is usually apportioned to asylums, would assuredly suffice. the same may be said of the lavatories, sculleries, and store-rooms. 10. the plan removes most of the objections to the erection of a second-floor or third-story. these objections generally owe their force to the difficulty of assuring the inmates of a third-story their due amount of attention, and their fair share of out-door exercise, and of much indoor amusement, without entailing such trouble upon all parties concerned, that a frequent dereliction or negligence of duty is almost a necessary consequence. dr. bucknill ('asylum journal,' vol. iii., 1857, p. 387, _et seq._) has well argued against the erection of a third-story, on economical grounds; and remarks that "practically, in asylums built with a multiplicity of stories, the patients who live aloft, are, to a considerable extent, removed from the enjoyment of air and exercise, and the care and sympathy of their fellow-men. they are less visited by the asylum officers, and they less frequently and fully enjoy the blessings of out-door recreation and exercise. those below will have many a half-hour's run from which they are debarred; the half-hours of sunshine on rainy days, the half-hours following meals, and many of the scraps of time, which are idly, but not uselessly spent, in breathing the fresh air." the foregoing considerations are certainly sufficient to condemn the appropriation of a third story for the day and night uses of patients, according to the 'ward-system' in operation; but they have no weight when the floor is occupied only for sleeping. we must confess we cannot appreciate the chief objection of dr. bucknill (_op. cit._ pp. 388, 389,) to the use of a third floor for sleeping-rooms only, for we do not see the reason why "the use of a whole story for sleeping-rooms renders the single-room arrangement exceedingly inconvenient;" for surely, on the common plan of construction, a row of single rooms might extend the whole length of a third floor on one side of a corridor, equally well as on the floors beneath. without desiring to enter on the question of the relative merits of single-room and of dormitory accommodation, to examine which is the special object of the paper quoted, we may remark, that the addition of a third story, when the plan we have advocated is carried out, obviates the generally admitted objections to such a proceeding. the same arrangement of apartments may obtain in it as on the bedroom-floor below, and the proportion of single rooms to dormitories, viz. one-third of the whole sleeping accommodation to the former, insisted upon by dr. bucknill, can be readily supplied. attention would only be required to allow in the plan sufficient day-room space on the ground-floor,--a requirement to be met without difficulty. the existence of a third story is no necessary feature to an asylum constructed on the principle discussed, and we have adverted to it for the sole purpose of showing that the ordinary objections to it are invalid, when the arrangement and purposes of its accommodation are rendered conformable to the general principles of construction advocated in this chapter. a hint from dr. bucknill's excellent remarks on the advantage of being able to utilize spare half-hours must not be lost. two flights of stairs, he well states, constitute a great obstacle to a frequent and ready access to the open air, and we are sure he would allow even one to be a considerable impediment to it; and, consequently, that an asylum with no stairs interposing between the patients and their pleasure-grounds would possess the advantage of facilitating their enjoyment of them. these remarks on the advantages of the principle of construction we advise for adoption would admit of extension, but sufficient has been advanced, we trust, to make good our views. we have taken in hand to write a chapter on some principles in the construction of public asylums, but we must stop at the point we have now reached; for it would grow into a treatise, did we attempt to examine the many principles propounded, and entirely surpass the end and aim of this present work. the end. printed by taylor and francis, red lion court, fleet street. 