A YOUTH.
From some cause unknown to me, the subject of this sketch had been deranged some time before he was sent to prison, and the effect produced on his mind was still visible in his looks and manners. Naturally, he possessed bright and interesting traits of mind, and a very amiable and engaging temper; but when reason abandoned him, he became sullen, and if crossed in his wishes, was furious and untameable.
Not long after his commitment, the frequent vexations he had to meet with, and the unsympathizing temperament of his keepers, drove him to distraction. In this situation he was a fine object for the relentless severity of those, who should have treated him with the most humane and tender regard. None but the most thoroughly hardened, could have tortured a poor friendless and phrensied mortal, as he was tortured by his guard and keepers.
In the first place, he was punished because he did not perform his appointed labor, which, it was evident, was more than he could have accomplished, if he had been in his right mind. This threw him into the most raging phrensy, and inspired the genius of cruelty with new life and energy.
To confine him, an iron jacket was provided, which kept his arms close to his body; and a new invention of iron, heavy and rough, brought his hands together, and confined them across his breast. This needless and inhuman contrivance wore the flesh from his hands and wrists, and kept them constantly bleeding. Thus bound in iron, worse than fancy paints the victims of Satanic sport in the world of wo, he was confined in a small cell, to groan out his misery in doleful cries, or sit in silent meditation on the mercy of man to man.
I cannot think of this ruined lad without growing chill with horror. I hear now his phrensied shrieks! His unearthly murmurings are still falling with deathly emphasis on my soul!—O! my God! of what is the heart of man composed! Days, weeks, and months, he filled that dungeon with vocal misery; and yet no angel mercy drew near him to comfort or to pity; but the tiger looks of heartless man were his only sunshine, and frowns were his only music!
In this work of torture, one of the keepers gave himself an infernal distinction over the rest. Not satisfied with contemplating in this youth, the double ruin of body and mind, with a passion for torture which I hope has returned to the breast of him whom alone it might not disgrace, he used to beat him with his sword and his fist, and allow him only a famishing morsel of food. So unmercifully did he abuse this poor maniac, that he was mistaken by him for the devil—if indeed, it was a mistake—and declared to be the terror of his waking, and the odious spectre of his sleeping hours.