Happily, in this little world which, in spite of its limitations, manufactures and supplies for itself most of the necessaries of life, all are not ready to make capital out of their infirmity. The master-carpenter lamented the loss of a former diligent pupil, who had been worth one pound a week to the institution, and he showed with pride the doors and panels of another, who he said might now earn his own living anywhere. This clever young carpenter had been at Earlswood for three years, and in the workshop for two. He bore a high character, and was so attached to the asylum that, when he was at home for a summer holiday, he came back for a day. Yet before his admission his relations had been unable to manage him.
The master-tailor called one of his "best boys" to show the waistcoat he was making. A good-looking middle-aged man descended with alacrity from the table—where, in the time-honoured custom of his trade, he worked in an attitude calculated to cause persons of other callings violent cramp in the legs—and shook hands all round with great warmth and friendliness. Directly he had displayed a piece of work, in which his instructor took pardonable pride, he returned with renewed diligence to his needle and thread. This man's interest in tailoring is so keen that when he, in his turn, does duty in the kitchen, he returns to his cloth and his favourite attitude for every available moment. Seated together with the first-class workmen are others, smiling over their attempts to learn stitching or to make button-holes. They may possibly never get beyond samplers, but time will show.
In the shoemakers' shop similar degrees of skill and industry were manifest. One man held in his hand a finished boot that he had made from the beginning, whilst others could only be trusted to black and polish. So it was with the rest of the twenty-five trades and callings in which last year 198 men and boys were employed, each according to his several ability. Perhaps the highest attainments are seen in the printing department—the only one that undertakes outside work. Besides the necessary printing for Earlswood and the London office, 232 private orders were sent out last year, and a profit was made of £150. On the occasion of my visit, a young compositor was not quite ready to show his proof to the doctor, who inquired what he was doing. He had just set up the programme for a patients' party, and had made it conclude with "Musicle Chairs"; he wanted to correct the spelling before it was inspected.
One elderly man, deaf, with an impediment in his speech and afflicted in mind, had his own workshop. All around him were evidences of his artistic skill. He looked tenderly at his own drawings, but the objects of his special admiration were the various magnifiers and reflectors he had designed and made to help him in fine carving. H.R.H. the Prince of Wales, who is interested in Earlswood, has lately presented him with some elephant tusks. It was a pleasure to this artist to display the lightness of an ivory landscape brooch. A piece of tortoise-shell at the back, with a judicious arrangement of the golden and dark blotches, made it a transparency. When held up on one side to the light, it was a sunny scene; whilst on the other it was dark, with a full moon.
A CORNER OF THE KITCHEN.
In spite of gentle manners and artistic skill, this man would probably be unable to live or turn his talents to account outside an asylum. He belongs to a class who for practical purposes never outgrow mental childhood. Years roll by. Time brings them grey hairs and other signs of his flight, but never carries them beyond the need of fatherly care. Many with far less intelligence seem to realise this.
It is pathetic to hear in some wards the cry of "Mother!" and see a smile of fancied recognition when a stranger appears. One middle-aged woman who called out "Mamma, mamma!" had some information, cheerful but incoherent, to impart. Then the name of "George" suddenly arrested her flow of trivialities, and her face puckered into a grotesque expression of distress. She raised her hand and pointed upward, saying, "George up there." The sorrowful remembrance was, however, transient; the next instant she was all smiles. The eddy on the surface of her smooth life soon caught the sunshine, but its presence was sufficient to call out fresh compassion for the poor souls whose wits may have been lost under a weight of trouble heavier than they could bear.
The sad pages in the life-history of some of the most helpless are, however, blotted out of their memory, or only dimly recalled by a fragmentary remark. The sound of laughter in the recreation-room, sitting-rooms, and playground is almost constant. If it shows the vacant mind, it also bespeaks content. Pleasure and enjoyment are circumscribed, but so also is the capacity for suffering in mind and body. The patients have almost as little temptation to anxious thought for the morrow as the ravens or lilies.