The remedy for having been shut up in an asylum, as a nuisance, is an action for false imprisonment. Thank you. Going to law in England is neither more or less than an amusement for a rich man, who may like to have all his corns hurt, or for a ‘company,’ who are cornless. You must be prepared to submit to many varieties of insult, with contempt of court if you resent them. I have been a lawyer myself, and of the value of the Law’s methods, cross-examination included, as a guide to truth and as a means to justice, I hold my own opinion. I did consult a solicitor, with a view to an action; but from him learned that the first step required of me would be to prove exactly how the thing was done, and exactly who did it, when the whole essence of the wrong was that I was too weak from a common illness to know of what was being done. (If I had been well and strong, I should at least have tried to knock everybody down.) If I made a mistake, I should be ‘nonsuited,’ or otherwise time-honouredly swindled of my rights: so being sane and having been a lawyer, I let it alone; and was fain to console myself as best I might with Bumble’s forcible apothegm—never so forcible as in this case—‘The law’s a hass.’
The whole confusion worse confounded, which surrounds everything concerning the most palpable, if the most terrible, form of human sickness, had its origin, probably, in the anxiety of kind-hearted people to evade the law of capital punishment on any pretext whatsoever. They called people ‘mad’ to save them from being hung, when they knew them to be nothing of the kind. Many a sound conscience has been driven into evasion or falsehood as a lesser sin, or a nobler right, than ‘abiding’ evil laws. This particular form of evasion having been established for good, the Law was prompt enough to take advantage of it for ill, to introduce fresh wrong. For the rest, let my story speak for itself. I have not concealed in any way the extent of the nervous illness into which I fell, aggravated tenfold by this unutterable cruelty. I repeat that it is the most cruel thing that can be done to a nervous sufferer: and it is, or may be, done every day by the Law, which scarcely knows, I think, a wrong it does not favour. This is like finding a man on the brink of a precipice, and, instead of holding him back, giving him a friendly push, with a ‘Go over and be damned to you!’ The Law will not move in the matter; but for her own honour Medicine may; and I am glad to see that the ‘Lancet’ has taken the cancer well in hand. I believe that the knell of private asylums will soon be knolled. As soon as we find a Home Secretary honest and brave enough to take the question unflinchingly up, the whole tissue of humbug and deceit will melt like wax in the fire. Amen. For it is time.
He brought me also out of the horrible pit, out of the mire and clay: and set my feet upon the rock, and ordered my goings.—Ps. xl. 2.
LONDON: PRINTED BY
SPOTTISWOOD AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE
AND PARLIAMENT STREET
Footnote:
[1] This episode is slightly corrected from the account as published in the newspaper in which it first appeared. I had understood that the partnership was between the asylum-proprietor and one of the doctors, in which I was wrong. The correction reads to me like Midshipman Easy’s famous apology.