The question now arises—“What would you have done to remedy the evil of putting men and women in the asylum that should never go there?” My answer is, that I would so change the laws that two inexperienced quack doctors could not govern the destinies of the people of a whole county. I would first require that those men who are to decide on the fate of their neighbors should be men of experience and discretion, and that there should be at least five of them in a county, chosen by the people for that purpose; I would also require that the patient be brought before a jury of twelve men, who shall decide the matter after the five doctors have examined the patient and given their opinions.
I would require that those five doctors should make themselves acquainted with asylum life; I speak now of State asylums, not private ones. I would have them know how patients are treated, as to medicine, diet, &c. For how can a jury or doctors recommend and decide that the asylum is the proper place for the patient, when they know nothing of its character, only that it is called a State Lunatic Asylum?
I would annihilate that argument so often used to induce the ignorant and the innocent to become willing to go to that den of death! The argument is, that many great and noted men have been inmates of the asylum, such as Gerrit Smith, Esquire W., General B. and Judge C. This was the argument used on me while on my way to the prison. I would go still further. I would require that the managers of such an institution should not leave to one man the destinies of so many hundreds of souls; that they should be required to see for themselves all the internal workings of the institution, that its evils may not become chronic and incurable. I would also require that patients be treated as men and women, and not as dumb beasts, in the manner of doctoring them; that the doctors should conform to the same rules that they would out of the institution in doctoring free agents. That is to say, that, when a patient is cured of a certain disease for which medicine is given, the medicine so given shall be taken off or stopped, and not continued for weeks and months after the end is gained for which the medicine is given. To illustrate what I mean: The doctor orders a certain kind of medicine to a patient; it is a strong tonic, for instance, to give strength and an appetite; the patient takes it three times a day for three months; at the end of three months the patient finds himself well, with a strong appetite, and works hard every day. The patient now says to the doctor, that he feels well, has a good appetite, and thinks the medicine had better be taken off, as it begins to act too heavily upon the system. The doctor replies, “that the medicine must not be taken off; that he must take it as long as he lives, and ask no questions.” Would any one, out of such an institution, employ such a physician? Now we all know that anywhere but in a lunatic asylum, medicine is not given except in cases of necessity, and when the object is gained for which the medicine is given, the medicine is taken off or withheld. Is this so in the asylum? Every man in that institution, who is sane enough to know the current events of the asylum, knows this is not so. I am a witness, with hundreds besides me, that medicine once ordered will be continued three times a day for two years, without interruption, and no questions asked the patient by the doctors about the effect of that medicine. I know it was so in my case, and no argument or remonstrance could induce the doctor to even change the medicine. I shall have occasion to say more on this subject in another place. I would have this matter regulated.
I have not a doubt, that if all these matters were fully and rightly investigated and controlled, a much smaller number would be sent to the asylum, and those who were sent would have less reason to complain. I do not mean that that institution or any other could be so conducted that none would complain of ill treatment; this perhaps would be impossible; but it could be so conducted that there would be far less suffering there than now exists.
[CHAPTER III.]
I will now return to the narrative of my two years in the asylum. I never can forget my feelings when I got out of the carriage and walked up the stone steps and into the centre of that mammoth building. The very thought that I was brought to a lunatic asylum, as a patient, was sufficient to take all the man out of me. I glanced my eyes around upon the massive walls, and high ceilings, and sat down. The doctor came, and my case was introduced to him by my attendant; a very few words passed between the doctor and me; I begged to not be left; I knew not what was before me; I had not formed the least idea of the construction of the building, nor of the manner in which patients were managed.
My attendant, Mr. Harvey, gave me over into the hands of Dr. Gray, the superintendent of the asylum, and seemed to be in haste to get out of my sight; at least it seemed so to me. I asked him how long he was going to leave me here; he replied “perhaps about two months; when your folks get settled they will send for you.” But instead of coming to take me away in two months, it was ten months before I heard one word from any person I had ever known before I went to that place, though I often enquired. I finally came to the conclusion that my wife must be dead, or I should have heard from her.
The first intimation I received concerning any of my family, was a visit from my daughter from Illinois, ten months after I entered the institution; this to me was as a visit from an angel from Heaven.