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."