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A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
A MIND THAT 
 FOUND ITSELR 
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY 
 
 BY 
 
 CLIFFORD WHITTINGHAM BEERS 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO, 
 
 91 AND 93 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK 
 
 LONDON. BOMBAY AND CALCUTTA 
 
 1908 
 

 Copyright, 1907, hy 
 CLIFFORD WHITTINGHAM BEERS 
 
 All Rights Reserved 
 
 The Plimpton Press Norwood Mass. USA. 
 
TO THE MEMORY OF MY UNCLE 
 
 SAMUEL EDWIN MERWIN 
 
 WHOSE TIMELY GENEROSITY I BELIEVE SAVED MY LIFE, 
 
 AND WHOSE DEATH HAS FOREVER ROBBED 
 
 ME OF A SATISFYING OPPORTUNITY 
 
 TO PROVE MY GRATITUDE 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 A STORY SO strange as to challenge belief must needs be 
 presented in a way especially calculated to inspire con- 
 fidence. Thanks to Professor William James of Harvard 
 University, I am able to cut off incredulity at its source 
 by quoting his opinion. That which has already enlisted the 
 support of one of the most eminent psychologists in America 
 is entitled at least to a respectful hearing from laymen. 
 
 95 Irving St., Cambridge, Mass. 
 July I, 1906. 
 Dear Mr. Beers: 
 
 Having at last "got round" to your MS., I have read it with very 
 great interest and admiration for both its style and its temper. I 
 hope you will finish it and publish it. It is the best written out 
 "case" that I have seen; and you no doubt have put your finger on 
 the weak spots of our treatment of the insane, and suggested the right 
 line of remedy. I have long thought that if I were a milliona ire, with 
 money to leave for public purposes, I should endow "Insanity" 
 exclusively. 
 
 You were doubtless a pretty intolerable character when the maniacal 
 condition came on and you were bossing the imiverse. Not only 
 ordinary "tact," but a genius for diplomacy, must have been needed 
 for avoiding rows with you; but you certainly were wrongly treated 
 
 nevertheless; and the spiteful Assistant M.D. at deserves to 
 
 have his name published. Your report is full of instructiveness for 
 doctors and attendants alike. 
 
 The most striking thing in it to my mind is the sudden conversion of 
 you from a delusional subject to a maniacal one — how the whole delu- 
 sional system disintegrated the moment one pin was drawn out by 
 your proving your brother to be genuine. I never heard of so rapid 
 a change in a mental system. 
 
viii INTRODUCTION 
 
 You speak of re-writing. Don't you do it. You can hardly 
 improve your book. I shall keep the MS. a week longer as I wish to 
 impart it to a friend. 
 
 Smcerely yours, 
 
 Wm. James. 
 
 95 Irving St., Cambridge, Mass. 
 November lo, 1907. 
 Dear Mr. Beers: 
 
 You are welcome to use the letter I wrote to you (on July i, 
 1906) after reading the first part of your MS. in any way your judg- 
 ment prompts, whether as preface, advertisement, or anything else. 
 Reading the rest of it only heightens its importance in my eyes. In 
 style, in temper, in good taste, it is irreproachable. As for contents, 
 it is fit to remain in literature as a classic accoimt "from within" 
 of an insane person's psychology. 
 
 The book ought to go far toward helping along that terribly needed 
 reform, the amelioration of the lot of the insane of our coimtry, for 
 the AiKiliary Society which you propose is feasible (as numerous 
 examples in other fields show), and ought to work important effects 
 on the whole situation. 
 
 You have handled a difficult theme with great skill, and produced 
 a narrative of absorbing interest to scientist as well as layman. It 
 reads like fiction, but it is not fiction; and this I state emphatically, 
 knowing how prone the uninitiated are to doubt the truthfulness of 
 descriptions of abnormal mental processes. 
 
 With best wishes for the success of the book and the plan, both of 
 which, I hope, will prove epoch-making, I remain, 
 
 Sincerely yours, 
 
 Wm. James. 
 Clifford W. Beers, Esq., 
 
 30 Trumbull Street, 
 
 New Haven, Connecticut. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PART I 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Chapters I-XXV i 
 
 PART II 
 Chapters XXVI-XXXI 212 
 
 PART III 
 Chapters XXXII-XXXV 256 
 
 PART IV 
 Chapters XXXVI-XXXIX 291 
 
 Appendices 319-363 
 
THIS BOOK IS WRITTEN BY ONE WHOSE RARE 
 
 EXPERIENCES IMPEL HIM TO PLEAD FOR 
 
 THOSE AFFLICTED THOUSANDS 
 
 LEAST ABLE TO SPEAK 
 
 FOR THEMSELVES 
 
A Mind That Found Itself 
 
 PART I 
 
 This story is derived from as human a document as ever 
 existed; and, because of its uncommon nature, perhaps no 
 one thing contributes so much to its value as its authenticity. 
 It is an autobiography, and more: in part it is a biography; 
 for, in telling the story of my life, I must relate the history of 
 another self — a self which was dominant from my twenty- 
 fourth to my twenty-sixth year. During that period I was 
 unlike what I had been, or what I have been since. The 
 biographical part of my autobiography might be called the 
 history of a mental civil war, which I fought single-handed 
 on a battle-field that lay within the compass of my skull. 
 An Army of Unreason, composed of the cunning and treach- 
 erous thoughts of an unfair foe, attacked my bewildered 
 consciousness with cruel persistency, and would have de- 
 stroyed me, had not a triumphant Reason finally interposed 
 a superior strategy that saved me from my unnatural self. 
 
 I am not telling the story of my life just to write a book. 
 I tell it because it seems my plain duty to do so. A marvel- 
 ous escape from death and a miraculous return to health 
 after an apparently fatal illness are enough to make a man 
 ask himself: For what purpose was my life spared? That 
 question I have asked myself, and this book is, in part, an 
 
a A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 answer. Until some one tells just such a story as mine and 
 tells it sanely, needless abuse of helpless thousands will con- 
 tinue. Great advances toward the intelligent and humane 
 treatment of the insane have no doubt been made — ad- 
 vances so great that the majority of insane patients in this 
 country are now treated with a consideration which amounts 
 to kindness. But a helpless and irresponsible minority, 
 numbering thousands, are still being subjected to abuse as 
 brutal as any ever visited on insane persons during those 
 centuries when the strong took pleasure in torturing the 
 weak. 
 
 That insane persons are still abused is suspected by the 
 public at large; but direct and convincing proof of that fact 
 is seldom presented. I am sure that the proof I now 
 offer will ring true, and will contribute to the correction of 
 many mistaken ideas regarding the insane and their treat- 
 ment, and regarding insanity itself. In the discussion of 
 the crude methods of treatment which now obtain, all abuses 
 which fell under my observation will of necessity be laid bare. 
 A former victim of these methods, I feel at liberty to attack 
 them; and the right to do so is doubly mine as I have a rem- 
 edy to offer, or at least a campaign to propose. If intelli- 
 gently carried on, it will, I feel confident, largely atone for 
 one of the blackest pages in history. As the hostages which. 
 Civilization gives to Progress^ the insane are entitled to the 
 best of treatment. Certainly they are not deserving of the 
 worst. 
 
 The subject which I treat is not alone humanitarian. Its 
 economic importance can hardly be overestimated. The 
 ravages of insanity cost the world millions of dollars and 
 thousands of lives each year. There are not fewer than two 
 hundred thousand insane persons in our asylums, hospitals, 
 sanatoriums, and homes. There are at least one hundred 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 3 
 
 and fifty thousand mental incompetents in Great Britain, 
 and a like number in France, and in Germany. Every civ- 
 ilized country has its burdensome proportion. Nor are these 
 afflicted ones the only sufferers. It is safe to assume that 
 each insane person has at least five relatives and friends in- 
 terested in his welfare. Granting this, there are a million 
 people in this country — one eightieth of the entire population 
 — directly or indirectly affected by this most dreaded dis- 
 ease. And any one of the remaining seventy-nine millions 
 may sooner or later be forced by Fate to join this army of 
 distress. 
 
 In spite of the gravity of these conditions comparatively 
 little is being done to combat the present irresistible advance 
 of insanity. No important phase of life is so generally mis- 
 understood; and no equally important subject is so consist- 
 ently and willingly ignored by all, except the few whose paid 
 duty it is to care for the insane. The only real fight waged 
 against this insidious disease is being carried on in a desul- 
 tory manner by a few unselfish scientists who are devoting 
 their time to investigation, in most instances without such 
 support as they deserve. 
 
 There is every reason to believe that many forms of insan- 
 ity will finally be rendered amenable to treatment. With 
 small-pox conquered; diphtheria doomed; yellow fever con- 
 fined within limits; and tuberculosis partially controlled 
 and not infrequently cured, why should insanity remain for- 
 ever on the list of incurable diseases ? Though some forms 
 of it may continue to baffle the alienist, recognized author- 
 ities predict that most forms will in time prove curable. But 
 the day of its even partial defeat cannot come until system- 
 atic scientific research has first done its work — a work of 
 years. Why should such research, on a scale in keeping 
 with the importance of the problem, be longer delayed ? The 
 
4 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 fight may cost millions, but will not the eventual payment of 
 an inevitable indemnity more than offset the cost? Even if 
 there were no economic advantage to be gained, would not 
 the dividend which will be added directly to the sum of human 
 happiness be a sufficient reward? The people of this age 
 can erect no more enduring monument to themselves than 
 by doing that which will make it possible for posterity to 
 regard the Twentieth Century as the century in which the 
 cause and cure for most forms of mental diseases were dis- 
 covered. 
 
 In presenting this book I have several definite purposes. 
 First : I hope to rob insanity of many of its terrors — at 
 least those which do not rightly belong to it. Most children 
 are afraid of the dark until they learn that its hidden mon- 
 sters are imaginary. But this childish fear is a sublime men- 
 tal process compared with the unreasoning dread of insanity 
 that prevails in the minds of most adults throughout the 
 civilized world. Under certain conditions an insane person 
 is, without doubt, the unhappiest of men, but I shall prove 
 that sometimes he is not less happy — is indeed happier — 
 than a sane person under the most favorable conditions. To 
 a startling degree the unhappiness of the insane is directly 
 due to the perhaps unconscious lack of consideration with 
 which they are treated. This is fortunate; for these external 
 contributory causes can be eliminated; — and no one 
 thing will go so far toward eliminating them as the uni- 
 versal adoption and continued use of the humane and 
 equally scientific principle of Non-Restraint in the treat- 
 ment of insanity. As the reader will come to know: — 
 doing to the insane as the sane would be done by is the 
 essence of Non-Restraint. 
 
 Secondly: Books alone can never produce the desired 
 results. But a society founded and endowed for the sole 
 
A MmD THAT FOUND ITSELF 5 
 
 purpose of solving this stubborn problem can at least raise 
 the standard of treatment to such a level that existing short- 
 comings will be forever done away with. A campaign of 
 education carried out under the auspices of a National Soci- 
 ety should lead to effectual reform, make even petty 
 abuses appear heinous, and thus insure, upon discovery, 
 the correction of all abuses. 
 
 Thirdly: It is my hope that the beneficent rich may be 
 prompted to come to the aid of the States and Nations by 
 supplying funds for the erection and endowment of model 
 institutions wherein mental and nervous diseases, in their 
 incipient and curable stages, may be treated with the max- 
 imum efficiency. With such institutions — hospitals and 
 sanatoriums — in operation, thousands of those who now are 
 committed indiscriminately could be restored to health and 
 society, without having suffered the unfair stigma of legal 
 incompetence; and patients in our State Hospitals could 
 then receive that individual treatment which will insure the 
 recovery of so many of them and, at the same time, enable 
 those who do not recover to lead comfortable, even happy 
 lives. 
 
II 
 
 I WAS born shortly after sunset about thirty years ago. 
 My ancestors, natives of England, settled in this country not 
 long after the Mayflower first sailed into Plymouth Harbor. 
 And the blood of these ancestors, by time and the happy 
 union of a northern man and a southern woman — my 
 parents — has perforce been blended into blood truly Amer- 
 ican. 
 
 The first years of my life were not unlike those of thousands 
 of other American boys. Nothing out of the ordinary 
 occurred. At the usual age, I entered a public Grammar 
 School in New Haven, Connecticut, and was graduated in 
 1 89 1. In the fall of that year I entered the Hillhouse High 
 School of the same city. My school courses were completed 
 with as little trouble as scholastic distinction. I always man- 
 aged to gain promotion, however, when it was due; and, 
 though few of my teachers credited me with real ability, they 
 were always able to detect a certain latent capacity, which 
 they evidently believed would one day develop sufficiently 
 to prevent me from disgracing them. 
 
 Upon entering the High School I had such ambitions as 
 any schoolboy is apt to have. I wished to secure an election 
 to a certain secret society; that gained, I wished to become 
 business manager of a monthly magazine, published by that 
 society. In these ambitions I succeeded. For one of my 
 age I had more than an average love of business. Indeed, 
 I deliberately set about learning to play the guitar well 
 enough to become eligible for membership in the Banjo- 
 
 6 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 7 
 
 Club — and this for no more aesthetic purpose than to 
 place myself in hne for the position of manager. 
 
 In athletics there was but one game, tennis, in which I was 
 actively interested. Its quick give-and-take suited my tem- 
 perament, and so fond was I of it that during one summer I 
 played not fewer than four thousand games. As I had an 
 aptitude for tennis, and devoted more time to it than did any 
 of my schoolmates, it was not surprising that I acquired skill 
 enough to win the school championship during my senior 
 year. But that success was not due entirely to my superior- 
 ity as a player. It was due in part to what I considered un- 
 fair treatment; and the fact well illustrates a certain trait of 
 character which has often stood me in good stead. Among 
 the spectators at the final match of the tournament were 
 several girls. These schoolmates, who lived in my neigh- 
 borhood, had mistaken for snobbishness a certain boyish 
 diffidence for which few people gave me credit. When we 
 passed each other, almost daily, this group of girls and I, 
 our mutual sign of recognition was a look in an opposite 
 direction. Now my opponent was well liked by these same 
 girls and was entitled to their support. Accordingly they 
 applauded his good plays, which was fair. They did not 
 applaud my good plays, which was also fair. But what was 
 not fair was that they should applaud my bad plays. Their 
 doing so roiled my blood, and thanks to those who would 
 have had me lose, I won. 
 
 One more incident of my boyhood days may assist the 
 reader to make my acquaintance. In my early teens I was, 
 for one year, a member of a boy-choir. Barring my voice, 
 I was a good chorister, and, like all good choir-boys, I was 
 distinguished by that seraphic passiveness from which a 
 reaction of some kind is to be expected immediately after a 
 service or rehearsal. On one occasion this reaction in me 
 
8 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 manifested itself in a fist fight with a fellow choir-boy. 
 Though I cannot recall the time when I have not relished 
 verbal encounters, physical encounters had never been to 
 my taste, and I did not seek this fight. My assailant really 
 goaded me into it. If the honors were not mine, at least I 
 must have acquitted myself creditably, for an interested 
 passer-by made a remark which I have never forgotten: 
 "That boy is all right after he gets started," said he. About 
 twelve years later I did get started, and could that passer-by 
 have seen me on any one of several occasions, he would have 
 had the satisfaction of knowing that his was a prophetic eye. 
 
 In June, 1894, 1 received a High School diploma. Shortly 
 afterwards I took my examinations for Yale, and the follow- 
 ing September entered the Sheffield Scientific School. 
 
 The last week of June, 1894, was an important one in my 
 life. An event then occurred which undoubtedly changed 
 my career completely. It was the direct cause of my mental 
 collapse six years later, and of the distressing and, in some 
 instances, strange and delightful experiences on which this 
 book is based. The event was the illness of an older 
 brother, who, late in June, 1894, was stricken with what 
 was thought to be epilepsy. Few diseases can so disorgan- 
 ize a household and distress its members. My brother had 
 enjoyed perfect health up to the time he was stricken; and, 
 as there had never been a suggestion of epilepsy, or any 
 like disease, in either branch of the family, the affliction 
 came as a bolt from a clear sky. Everything possible 
 was done to effect a cure, but without avail. On July 
 4th, 1900, he died at the City Hospital, in Hartford, 
 Connecticut, after a six years' illness, two years of which 
 were spent at home, one year in a trip around the 
 world in a sailing vessel, and most of the remainder on a 
 farm near Hartford. The doctors decided that a tumor at 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 9 
 
 the base of the brain had caused his malady and his death. 
 That tumor was caused probably by a fall which he had 
 suffered some years before, and to which no attention had 
 been paid at the time. 
 
 As I was in college when my brother was first stricken I 
 had more time at my disposal than the other members of 
 the family, and for that reason spent much of it with him. 
 Though his attacks during the first year occurred only at 
 night, it was the fear that they might occur during the day, in 
 public, which affected my nerves from the beginning. 
 
 Now, if a brother who had enjoyed perfect health all his 
 life could be stricken with epilepsy, what was to prevent my 
 being similarly affiicted? This was the thought that soon 
 got possession of my mind. The more I considered it and 
 him, the more nervous I became; and the more nervous, the 
 more convinced that my own breakdown was only a ques- 
 tion of time. Doomed to what I then considered a living 
 death, I thought of epilepsy, I dreamed epilepsy, until thou- 
 sands of times during the six years that this disquieting idea 
 persisted, my overwrought imagination seemed to drag me 
 to the very verge of an attack. Yet at no time during my 
 life have these early fears been realized. 
 
 For the fourteen months succeeding the time my brother 
 was first stricken, I was greatly harassed with fear; but not 
 until later did my nerves really conquer me. I remember 
 distinctly when the break came. It happened in Novem- 
 ber, 1895, during a recitation in German. That hour in the 
 class-room was one of the most disagreeable I ever experi- 
 enced. It seemed as if my nerves had snapped, like so many 
 minute bands of rubber stretched beyond their elastic limit. 
 At this time, and on many subsequent like occasions, the 
 one thought uppermost in my mind, though I gave no out- 
 ward evidence of my great despair, was that my psychic 
 
lO A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 convulsion would become physical. My imagination seemed 
 to tear my body into shreds. Had I had the courage to 
 leave the room, I should have done so; but I sat as if para- 
 lyzed until the class was dismissed. 
 
 That term I did not again attend recitations. Continuing 
 my studies at home I passed satisfactory examinations which 
 enabled me to resume my place in the class-room the follow- 
 ing January. During the remainder of my college years I 
 seldom entered a recitation-room with any other feeling than 
 that of dread, though the absolute assurance that I should 
 not be called upon to recite did mitigate the misery. The 
 professors, who had been told about my state of health and 
 the cause of it, invariably treated me with consideration; 
 but, though I believe they never doubted the genuineness 
 of my excuse, it was no easy matter to keep them convinced 
 for almost two of the three years of my course. My inability 
 to recite was not due usually to any lack of preparation. 
 However well prepared I might be, the moment a professor 
 called upon me to recite, a mingling of a thousand disconcert- 
 ing sensations, and the distinct thought that at last the dread 
 attack was at hand, would suddenly intervene and deprive 
 me of all but the power to say, "Not prepared." Weeks 
 would pass without any other record being placed opposite 
 my name than a zero, or a blank indicating that I had not 
 been called upon at all. Occasionally, however, a profes- 
 sor, in justice to himself and to the other students, would 
 compel me to recite, and at such times I managed to make 
 enough of a recitation to hold my place in the class. 
 
 When I entered Yale I had four definite ambitions: first, 
 to secure an election to a certain secret society; second, to 
 become one of the editors of the Yale Record, an illus- 
 trated humorous bi-weekly; third (granting that I should 
 have succeeded in this latter ambition), to convince my col- 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF II 
 
 leagues that I should have the position of business-mana- 
 ger — an office which I sought, not for the honor, but be- 
 cause I believed it would enable me to earn an amount of 
 money at least equal to the cost of tuition for my three years 
 at Yale; fourth (and this was my chief ambition), to win 
 my diploma within the prescribed time. These four ambi- 
 tions I fortunately achieved. 
 
 A man's college days, collectively, are usually his happi- 
 est. Most of mine were not happy. Yet I look back upon 
 them with great satisfaction, for I feel that I was fortunate 
 enough to absorb some of that intangible but very real ele- 
 ment known as the "Yale spirit." This has helped to keep 
 Hope alive within me during my most discouraged moments, 
 and now makes the accomplishment of my purpose seem 
 easy and sure. 
 
Ill 
 
 On the thirtieth day of June, 1897, I was graduated at 
 Yale. Had I then reahzed that I was a sick man I could and 
 would have taken a rest; but, in a way, I had become ac- 
 customed to the ups and downs of a nervous existence, and, 
 as I could not really afford a rest, six days after my gradua- 
 tion I entered upon the duties of a clerk in the office of the 
 Collector of Taxes in the city of New Haven. I was fortunate 
 in securing such a position at that time, for the hours were 
 comparatively short and the work as congenial as any could 
 have been under the circumstances. I entered the Tax Office 
 with the intention of staying only until such time as I should 
 secure a position in New York. About a. year later I secured 
 the desired position. After remaining in it for eight months 
 (with the firm whose employ I re-entered in 1904), I left it, 
 in order to take a position which seemed to offer a field of 
 endeavor more to my taste. From May, 1899, till the middle 
 of June, 1900, I was a clerk in one of the smaller life insur- 
 ance companies, whose home office was within a stone's 
 throw of what some men consider the center of the universe. 
 To be in the very heart of the financial district of New 
 York appealed strongly to my imagination. As a result of 
 certain mistaken ideals, the making of money was then a 
 passion with me. I foolishly wished to taste the bitter-sweet 
 of power based on wealth. 
 
 For the first eighteen months of my life in New York, my 
 health seemed no worse than it had been during the preceding 
 three years. The old dread still possessed me. I continued 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 13 
 
 to have my more and less nervous days, weeks, and months. 
 In March, 1900, however, there came a change for the worse. 
 At that time I had a severe attack of grip which incapaci- 
 tated me for two weeks. As was to be expected in my case, 
 this illness seriously depleted my vitality, and left me 
 in a frightfully depressed condition — a depression which 
 continued to grow upon me until the final crash came, on 
 June 23d, 1900. The events of that day, seemingly disas- 
 trous as then viewed, but all for the best as the issue proved, 
 forced me along paths traveled by thousands, but compre- 
 hended by few. 
 
 I had continued to perform my clerical duties until June 
 15th. On that day I was compelled to stop, and that at 
 once. I had reached a point where my will had to capitu- 
 late to Unreason — that unscrupulous usurper. My pre- 
 vious five years as a neurasthenic had led me to believe that 
 I had experienced all the disagreeable sensations an over- 
 worked and unstrung nervous system could suffer. But on 
 this day several new and terrifying sensations seized me and 
 rendered me all but helpless. My condition, however, was 
 not apparent even to those who worked with me at the same 
 desk. I remember trying to speak and at times finding my- 
 self unable to give utterance to my thoughts. Though I was 
 able to answer questions, that fact hardly diminished my 
 feeling of apprehension, for a single failure in an attempt to 
 speak will stagger any man, no matter what his state of 
 health. I tried to copy certain records in the day's work, 
 but my hand was too unsteady, and I found it difficult to 
 read the words and figures presented to my tired vision in 
 blurred confusion. 
 
 That afternoon, conscious that some terrible calamity was 
 impending, but not knowing what would be its nature, I 
 performed a very curious act. Certain early literary efforts 
 
14 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 which had failed of publication in the college paper, but 
 which I had jealously cherished for several years, I utterly 
 destroyed. Then, after a hurried arrangement of my affairs, 
 I took an early afternoon train, and soon found myself at 
 home. Home life did not make me better, and, except for 
 three or four short walks, I did not go out of the house at all 
 until June 23d, when I went in a most unusual way. To 
 relatives I said little about my state of health, beyond the 
 general statement that I had never felt worse — a statement 
 which, when made by a neurasthenic, means much but proves 
 little. For five years I had had my ups and downs, and 
 both my relatives and myself had begun to look upon these 
 as things which would probably be corrected in and by time. 
 Had the seriousness of my condition been realized, earlier 
 arrangements would have been made which would have 
 enabled me to take the long rest I needed. I am now glad 
 that no such rest was taken. Had I been restored to health 
 sooner than I was, or under different conditions, I should 
 not have suffered and learned; nor should I have tasted the 
 peculiar joy of a life little known and less understood by 
 mankind at large. 
 
 The day after my home-coming I made up my mind, or 
 that part of it which was still within my control, that the 
 time had come to quit business entirely and take a rest of 
 months. I even arranged with a younger brother to set out 
 at once for some quiet place in the White Mountains, where 
 I hoped to s,teady my shattered nerves. At this time (to 
 say nothing of the constantly recurring thought that I was 
 about to fall into an epileptic attack) I felt as though in a 
 tremor from head to foot. 
 
 This dread to which I so frequently refer was a thing which 
 I seldom, if ever, referred to while it persisted. On more 
 than one occasion I did say to my friends that I would rather 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 15 
 
 die than live an epileptic; yet, if I rightly remember, I never 
 declared the actual fear that I was doomed to bear such an 
 affliction. However, I believe that I said on a few occasions, 
 though without meaning it at the time, that, if necessary, I 
 should kill myself rather than endure what I then thought, 
 but do not now think, the most miserable of lives. Though 
 I held the mad belief that I should suffer epilepsy, I held the 
 sane hope, amounting to belief, that I should escape it. 
 This fact may account, in a measure, for my six years of 
 endurance. 
 
 On the 1 8th of June I felt so much worse that I went 
 to my bed and stayed there until the 23d. During the night 
 of the 1 8th my persistent dread became a false belief 
 — a delusion. What I had long expected I now became 
 convinced had at last occurred. I believed myself to be a 
 confirmed epileptic, and that conviction was stronger than 
 any ever held by a sound intellect. The half-resolve, made 
 before my mind was actually impaired, namely, that I would 
 kill myself rather than live the life I dreaded, now divided 
 my attention with the belief that the stroke had fallen. From 
 that time my one thought was to hasten the end, for I felt 
 that I should lose the chance to die should relatives find 
 me in a seizure of the supposed malady. 
 
 Considering the state of my mind and my inability at that 
 time to appreciate the enormity of such an end as I half con- 
 templated, my suicidal purpose was not entirely selfish. That 
 I had never seriously contemplated suicide is proved by the 
 fact that I had not provided myself with the means of accom- 
 plishing it, despite my habit, which has long been remarked 
 by those intimately acquainted with me, of preparing for 
 unlikely contingencies. So far as I had the control of my 
 faculties, it must be admitted that I deliberated; but, strictly 
 speaking, the rash act which followed cannot correctly be 
 
l6 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 called an attempt at suicide — for, how can a man who is 
 not himself kill himself? 
 
 Soon my disordered brain was busy with schemes for 
 death. I distinctly remember one which included a row on 
 Lake Whitney, near New Haven. This row I intended to 
 take in the most treacherous boat obtainable. Such a craft 
 could be easily upset, and I should so bequeath to relatives 
 and friends a sufficient number of reasonable doubts to rob 
 my death of the usual stigma. I also remember searching 
 for some deadly drug which I hoped to find about the house. 
 But the quantity and quality of what I found was not such 
 as I dared to trust. I then thought of severing my jugular 
 vein, even going so far as to test against my throat the edge 
 of a razor which, after the deadly impulse first asserted itself, 
 I had secreted in a convenient place. I really wished to die, 
 but so uncertain and bloody a method did not appeal to me. 
 Nevertheless, had I felt sure that in my tremulous frenzy I 
 could accomplish the act with skilful dispatch, I should 
 at once have ended my troubles. 
 
 My imaginary attacks were now recurring with distracting 
 frequency, and I was in constant fear of discovery. During 
 these three or four days I slept scarcely at all — even the 
 medicine given to induce sleep having little effect. Though 
 inwardly frenzied, I gave no outward sign of my condition. 
 Most of the time I remained quietly in bed. I spoke but 
 seldom. I had practically, though not entirely, lost the power 
 of speech; and my almost unbroken silence aroused no sus- 
 picions as to the seriousness of my plight. 
 
 By a process of elimination, all suicidal methods but one 
 had at last been put aside. On that one my mind now cen- 
 tered. My room was on the fourth floor of a house — one 
 of a block of five — in which my parents lived. The house 
 stood several feet back from the street. The sills of my win- 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 17 
 
 dows were a little more than thirty feet above the ground. 
 Under one was a flag pavement, extending from the house 
 to the front gate. Under the other was a rectangular coal- 
 hole covered with an iron grating. This was surrounded by 
 flagging over a foot in width; and, connecting it and the 
 pavement proper, was another flag. So that all along 
 the front of the house, stone or iron filled a space at no point 
 less than two feet in width. It required no great amount of 
 calculation to determine how slight the chance of surviving 
 a fall from either of these windows. 
 
 About dawn I arose. Stealthily I approached the window, 
 pushed open the blinds and looked out — and down. Then I 
 closed the blinds as noiselessly as possible and crept back to 
 bed: I had not yet become so desperate that I dared to take 
 the leap. Scarcely had I pulled up the covering when a 
 watchful relative entered my room, drawn thither perhaps 
 by that protecting prescience which love inspires. I thought 
 her words revealed a suspicion that she had heard me at the 
 window, and speechless as I was I had enough speech to 
 deceive her. For, of what account are Truth and Love when 
 Life itself has ceased to seem desirable ? 
 
 The dawn soon hid itself in the brilliancy of a perfect June 
 day. Never had I seen a brighter — to look at; never a 
 darker — to live through, — or a better to die upon. Its 
 very perfection and the songs of the robins, which at that 
 season were plentiful in the neighborhood, served but to 
 increase my despair and make me the more willing to die. 
 As the day wore on my anguish became more intense, but 
 I managed to mislead those about me by uttering a word 
 now and then, and feigning to read a newspaper, which to 
 me, however, appeared an uninteUigible confusion of type. 
 My brain was in a ferment. It felt as if pricked by a million 
 needles at white heat. My whole body felt as though it 
 
l8 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 would be torn apart by the terrific nervous strain under 
 which I labored. 
 
 Shortly after noon, dinner having been served, my mother 
 entered the room and asked me if she should bring me some 
 dessert. I assented. It was not that I cared for the dessert; 
 I had no appetite. I wished to get her out of the room, for 
 I believed myself to be on the verge of another attack. She 
 left at once. I knew that in two or three minutes she would 
 return. The crisis seemed at hand. It was now or never 
 for liberation. She had probably descended one of three 
 flights of stairs when, with the mad desire to dash my brains 
 out on the pavement below, I rushed to that window which 
 was directly over the flag walk. Providence must have 
 guided my movements, for in some otherwise unaccountable 
 way, on the very point of hurling myself out bodily, I chose 
 to drop feet foremost instead. With my fingers I clung for a 
 moment to the sill. Then I let go. In falling my body 
 turned so as to bring my right side toward the building. I 
 struck the ground a little more than two feet from the foun- 
 dation of the house, and at least three to the left of the point 
 from which I started. Missing the stone pavement by not 
 more than three or four inches, I struck on compara- 
 tively soft earth. My position must have been almost 
 upright, for both heels struck the ground squarely. The 
 concussion slightly crushed one heel bone and broke most 
 of the small bones in the arch of each foot, but there 
 was no mutilation of the flesh. As my feet struck the ground 
 my right hand struck hard against the front of the house, 
 and it is probable that these three points of contact divided 
 the force of the shock and prevented my back from being 
 broken. As it was, it narrowly escaped a fracture and, for 
 several weeks afterward, it felt as if powdered glass had 
 been substituted for cartilage between the vertebrae. 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 19 
 
 I did not lose consciousness even for a second, and the 
 demoniacal dread, which had possessed me from June, 
 1894, until this fall to earth just six years later, was dispelled 
 the instant I struck the ground. At no time since that in- 
 stant have I experienced one of my imaginary attacks; nor 
 has my mind even for a moment entertained such an idea. 
 The little demon which had tortured me relentlessly for six 
 years evidently lacked the stamina which I must have had to 
 survive the shock of my suddenly arrested flight through 
 space. That the very delusion which drove me to a death- 
 loving desperation should so suddenly vanish, seems to me 
 to indicate that many a suicide might be averted if the per- 
 son contemplating it could find the proper assistance when 
 such a crisis impends. 
 
IV 
 
 Though I was unquestionably insane before the physical 
 injuries which I sustained, I am inclined to believe that 
 without the injuries my insanity would have manifested itself 
 in a mild and easily curable form. As it was, the mere 
 shock to my spine affected my brain and complicated my 
 case. Within a few hours after my fall my brain was in a 
 seriously disordered condition. 
 
 I have my own perhaps fanciful theory regarding the effect 
 of that concussion. In physics, the fact that a change of 
 molecular structure in a magnetized bar of soft iron will 
 change the character of its magnetism is proved by a very 
 simple and interesting experiment. If a magnet in the shape 
 of a straight bar be held vertically, the top of the magnet being 
 positive and the bottom negative, the positive end may be 
 immediately changed to negative, and the negative to 
 positive, if either be struck a sharp blow with a hammer. 
 The character of the magnetism may be changed as fre- 
 quently as the experimenter wishes by thus striking the two 
 ends alternately. Now if the naturally positive end be left 
 negatively magnetized, and the magnet then be laid aside, 
 it will gradually lose its negative quality and eventually be- 
 come positive as at first. This return of the iron to its 
 normal character is due to an irresistible tendency of the 
 molecules to re-adjust themselves and take their original 
 relative positions. 
 
 The human body, like every physical object, including the 
 earth, is, potentially at least, a magnet. My body as it hung 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 21 
 
 from the window-sill was feebly positive, as it were, at the 
 top. If the molecular structure of a bar of iron can be 
 changed by a slight blow, it seems reasonable to suppose 
 that the molecular structure of the human body, and espe- 
 cially of the nervous system, may be completely altered by 
 such a blow as my body received when my feet struck the 
 ground. As in the case of a magnet left in a state of mag- 
 netism other than its normal, the molecular structure of my 
 body was left to re-adjust itself by the slow process of time. 
 And, after a period of over three years, it finally did become 
 sufficiently positive at the top to enter again the magnetic 
 field of sane, human endeavor. 
 
 It was squarely in front of the dining-room window that 
 I feU, and those at dinner were more startled than I. It 
 took them a second or two to realize what had happened. 
 Then my younger brother rushed out, and with other assist- 
 ance carried me into the house. Naturally that dinner was 
 permanently interrupted. A mattress was placed on the 
 floor of the dining-room and I on that, suffering intensely. 
 I said little, but what I said was significant. "I thought 
 I had epilepsy!" was my first remark; and several 
 times I said, "I wish it was over!" For I believed that my 
 death was only a question of hours. To the doctors, who 
 soon arrived, I said, "My back is broken!" — raising my- 
 self slightly, however, as I said so. 
 
 An ambulance soon arrived, in which I was placed. Be- 
 cause of the nature of my injuries it was necessary that the 
 ambulance proceed slowly. The trip of a mile and a half 
 seemed interminable, but in due time I arrived at Grace 
 Hospital and was placed in a room which soon became a 
 chamber of torture. It was on the second floor; and the 
 
22 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 first object to engage my attention and stir my imagination 
 was a man who appeared outside my window and placed in 
 position several heavy iron bars. These were, of course, 
 for my protection, but at that time no such idea occurred to 
 me. My mind was in a delusional state, ready and eager 
 to adopt any external stimulus as a pretext for its wild in- 
 ventions, and that barred window started a terrible train of 
 delusions which persisted for seven hundred and ninety- eight 
 days. During that period my mind imprisoned both mind 
 and body in a dungeon than which none was ever more secure. 
 Klnowing that those who attempt suicide are usually placed 
 under arrest, I believed myself under legal restraint. I im- 
 agined that at any moment I might be taken to court to face 
 some charge lodged against me by the local police. Every 
 act of those about me seemed to be a part of what, in police 
 parlance, is commonly called, the "Third Degree." The 
 hot poultices placed upon my feet and ankles threw me into 
 a profuse perspiration, and my very active association of 
 mad ideas convinced me that I was being "sweated" — 
 another police term which I had often seen in the newspapers, 
 I inferred that this third-degree sweating process was being 
 inflicted in order to extort some kind of a confession, though 
 what my captors wished me to confess I could not for my life 
 imagine. As I was really in a state of delirium, with high 
 fever, I had an insatiable thirst. The only liquids given me 
 were hot saline solutions. Though there was good reason 
 for administering these, I believed they were designed for no 
 other purpose than to increase my sufferings, as a part of the 
 same inquisitorial process. But had a confession been due 
 I could hardly have made it, for that part of my brain which 
 controls the power of speech was seriously affected, and was 
 soon to be further disabled by my ungovernable thoughts. 
 Only an occasional word did I utter. 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 23 
 
 Certain hallucinations of hearing, or "false voices," added 
 to my torture. Within my range of hearing, but beyond 
 the reach of my understanding, there was a hellish vocal hum. 
 Now and then I would recognize the subdued voice of a 
 former friend ; now and then I would hear the voices of some 
 who I believed were not friends. All these referred to me 
 and uttered what I could not clearly distinguish, but knew 
 must be imprecations. Ghostly rappings on the walls and 
 ceiling of my room punctuated unintelligible mumblings of 
 invisible persecutors. Those were long nights. 
 
 I remember distinctly my delusion of the following day — 
 Sunday. I seemed to be no longer in the hospital. In some 
 mysterious way I had been spirited aboard a huge ocean 
 steamship. I first discovered this when the ship was in mid- 
 ocean. The day was clear, the sea apparently calm, but 
 for all that, the ship was slowly sinking. And it was I, of 
 course, who had brought on what must turn out fatally for 
 all, unless the coast of Europe could be reached before the 
 water in the hold should extinguish the fires. How had this 
 peril overtaken us? Simply enough: During the night I 
 had in some way — a way still unknown to me — opened a 
 port-hole below the water-line; and those in charge of the 
 vessel seemed powerless to close it. Every now and 
 then I could hear parts of the vessel give way under the 
 strain. I could hear the air hiss and whistle spitefully under 
 the resistless impact of the invading waters; I could hear the 
 crashing of timbers as partitions were wrecked; and as 
 the water rushed in at one place I could see, at another, 
 scores of helpless passengers swept overboard into the sea — 
 my unintended victims. I believed that I too might at any 
 moment be swept away. That I was not thrown into the 
 sea by vengeful fellow-passengers was, I thought, due to 
 their desire to keep me alive until, if possible, land should 
 
24 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 be reached, when a more painful death could be inflicted 
 upon me. 
 
 While aboard my phantom-ship I managed in some way 
 to establish an electric railway system; and the trolley cars 
 which passed the hospital were soon running along 
 the deck of my ocean-liner, carrying passengers from the 
 places of peril in the ship's hold to what seemed places of 
 comparative safety at the bow. Every time I heard a car 
 pass the hospital one of mine went clanging along the ship's 
 deck. 
 
 This feverish day-dream is less remarkable than the ex- 
 ternal stimuli which excited it. As I have since ascertained 
 there was, just outside my room, an elevator and near it a 
 speaking tube. Whenever the speaking-tube was used from 
 another part of the building, the summoning whistle con- 
 veyed to my mind the idea of the exhaustion of air in a ship- 
 compartment, and the opening and shutting of the elevator 
 door completed the illusion of a ship fast going to pieces. 
 But the ship my mind was on never reached any shore, nor 
 did she sink. Like a mirage she vanished, and again I found 
 myself safe in my bed at the hospital. "Safe," did I say? 
 Scarcely that, — for deliverance from one impending disaster 
 simply meant immediate precipitation into another. 
 
 My delirium gradually subsided, and four or five days 
 after the 23d the doctors were able to set my broken bones. 
 To my gradually increasing insanity the operation suggested 
 new delusions. Shortly before the adjustment of the plaster 
 casts, my legs, for obvious reasons, were shaved from shin 
 to calf. This unusual tonsorial operation I read for a sign 
 of degradation — associating it with what I had heard of the 
 treatment of murderers and with similar customs in more 
 barbarous lands. It was about this time also that strips of 
 court-plaster, in the form of a cross, were placed on my brow, 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 25 
 
 which had been slightly scratched in my fall, and this I read 
 for a brand of infamy. 
 
 Had my health been good I should at this time have 
 been participating in the Triennial of my class at Yale. In- 
 deed, I was a member of the Triennial Committee and 
 though, when I left New York on June 15th, I had been 
 feeling terribly ill, I had then hoped to brace myself for the 
 anticipated pleasures of the reunion. The class reunions 
 were held on Tuesday, June 26th — three days after my 
 collapse. Those familiar with Yale customs know that 
 the Harvard baseball game is one of the chief events of 
 the commencement season. Headed by brass bands, all the 
 classes whose reunions fall in the same year, march to the 
 Yale Athletic Field to see the game and renew their youth 
 — using up as much vigor in one delirious day as would in- 
 sure a ripe old age if less prodigally expended. These 
 classes with their bands and cheering, accompanied by thou- 
 sands of other vociferating enthusiasts, march through West 
 Chapel Street — the most direct route from the Campus to 
 the Field. It is upon this line of march that Grace Hospital 
 is situated, and I knew that on the day of the game the Yale 
 thousands would pass the scene of my incarceration. 
 
 I have endured so many days of the most exquisite tor- 
 ture that I hesitate to distinguish among them by degrees; 
 each deserves its own unique place, even as a Saint's Day 
 on the calendar of an olden Spanish inquisitor. But, if the 
 palm is to be awarded to any, June 26th, 1900, perhaps has 
 the first claim. 
 
 My state of mind at this time might be pictured thus: 
 The criminal charge of attempted suicide stood against me 
 on June 23d. By the 26th many other and worse charges 
 had accumulated. The public believed me the most des- 
 picable member of my race. The papers were filled with 
 
26 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 accounts of my misdeeds. The thousands of collegians gath- 
 ered in the city, many of whom I knew personally, loathed 
 the very thought that a Yale man should so disgrace his 
 Alma Mater. And when they approached the hospital on 
 their way to the Athletic Field, I concluded that it was their 
 intention to take me from my bed, drag me to the lawn, and 
 there tear me limb from limb. Few incidents during my 
 unhappiest years are more vividly or circumstantially 
 impressed upon my memory. The fear, to be sure, was 
 absurd, but in the lurid lexicon of Unreason there is no such 
 word as "absurd." The college cries which filled the air 
 that afternoon struck more terror to my heart than all 
 the Yale cheers of history have struck to the hearts of van- 
 quished rivals on field or water. 
 
V 
 
 Naturally I was suspicious of all about me, and became 
 more so each day. But not until about a month after my 
 hurt did I refuse to recognize my relatives. While I was at 
 Grace Hospital my father and eldest brother called almost 
 every day to see me, and, though I said little, I still accepted 
 them in their proper characters. I remember well a conver- 
 sation one morning with my father. The words I uttered 
 were few but full of meaning. Shortly before this time my 
 death had been momentarily expected. I still believed that 
 I was surely about to die as a result of my injuries, and I 
 wished in some way to let my father know that, despite my 
 apparently ignominious end, I appreciated all that he had 
 done for me during my life. Few men, I believe, ever had 
 a more painful time in expressing their feelings than I had on 
 that occasion. I had but little control over my mind, and 
 my power of speech was impaired. My father sat beside 
 my bed. Looking up at him, I said, "You have been a 
 good father to me." 
 
 "I have always tried to be," was his characteristic reply. 
 
 After the broken bones had been set, and the first effects 
 of the severe shock I had sustained had worn off, I began to 
 gain strength. About the third week I was able to sit up 
 and was occasionally taken out of doors. But each day, and 
 especially during the hours of the night, my delusions in- 
 creased in force and variety. The world was fast becoming 
 to me a stage on which every human being within the range 
 of my senses seemed to be playing a part, and that a part 
 
 27 
 
28 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 which would lead not only to my destruction (for which I 
 cared little), but also to the ruin of all with whom I had ever 
 come in contact. In the month of July several thunder- 
 storms occurred. To me the thunder was "stage" thunder, 
 the lightning, man-made, and the accompanying rain due 
 to some clever contrivance of my persecutors. There was 
 a chapel connected with the hospital — or at least a room 
 where religious services were held every Sunday. To me 
 the hymns were funeral dirges; and the mumbled prayers, 
 faintly audible, were in behalf of every sufferer in the world 
 but one. 
 
 It was my eldest brother who looked after my care and 
 interests during my entire illness. Toward the end of July, 
 he informed me that I was to be taken home again. 
 I must have given him an incredulous look, for he 
 said, "Don't you think we can take you home? Well, 
 we can and will." Believing myself in the hands of the 
 police I did not see how that was possible. Nor did I have 
 any desire to return. That a man who had disgraced his 
 family should again enter his old home, and expect his rel- 
 atives to treat him as though nothing were changed, was a 
 thought against which my whole nature rebelled; and, when 
 the day came for my return, I fought my brother and the 
 doctor feebly as they lifted me from the bed. But, realizing 
 the uselessness of resistance, I soon submitted, was placed 
 in a carriage, and driven to the house I had left a month 
 earlier. 
 
 For a few hours my mind was easier than it had been. 
 But my new-found ease was soon dispelled by the appear- 
 ance of a nurse — one of several who had attended me at the 
 hospital. Though at home and surrounded by relatives I 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 29 
 
 jumped at the conclusion that I was still under police sur- 
 veillance. At my request my brother had promised not to 
 engage any nurse who had been in attendance at the hos- 
 pital. The difficulty of procuring any other led him to dis- 
 regard my request, which at the time he held simply as a 
 whim. But he did not disregard it entirely, for the nurse 
 selected had merely acted as a substitute on one occasion, and 
 then only for about an hour. That was long enough, though, 
 for my memory to become acquainted with her image. My 
 brother's mistake was grave, for the unintentional breaking 
 of that promise broke the only remaining thread that bound 
 me to the world. And it is now clear to my judgment that 
 the most trifling promise, direct or implied, made under such 
 circumstances, should, if possible, be carried out to the letter. 
 This question I have since discussed with alienists, all of 
 whom agree with me. Suspicion cannot be overcome by 
 being fed upon untruth itself, and suspicion is the condi- 
 tion of most unbalanced minds. I am convinced that the 
 unhappiness of many such would be greatly decreased if, 
 as nearly as possible, they received at the hands of sane 
 persons the treatment accorded sane persons. It should 
 never be taken for granted that a perverted mind cannot 
 detect a perverted moral act. To gain the shattered confi- 
 dence of suspicious insane patients, their treatment should 
 be consistently honest and kind. But let me in all justice 
 and all gratitude emphasize the fact that my brother was 
 not to blame for his error of judgment; and without abating 
 a jot of my conviction that such little subterfuges are injuri- 
 ous to the patient and should be scrupulously avoided — 
 most of all by his relatives, and by the doctors and nurses 
 in charge of him — I must add that, of course, had it not 
 been this incident, almost any other would as surely have 
 precipitated the plunge to chaos of my swaying reason. 
 
30 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 Finding myself still under surveillance, I soon jumped to 
 a second conclusion, namely: that this was no brother of 
 mine at all. He instantly appeared in the light of a sinister 
 double, acting as a detective. After that I refused abso- 
 lutely to speak to him again, and this repudiation I extended 
 to all other relatives, friends, and acquaintances. If the man 
 I had accepted as my brother was spurious, so were aU the 
 rest — such was my deduction. For more than two years I 
 was without relatives or friends, in fact, a man without a 
 world, except that one created by my own mind from the 
 chaos that reigned within it. Having lost aU touch, even with 
 my mother and father whom I had seen, naturally God, 
 whom I had not seen, ceased to exist for me. Thus I was 
 denied the comfort which comes to so many in distress. 
 
 While I was at Grace Hospital it was my sense of hearing 
 which was the most disturbed. Soon after I was placed in 
 my room at home all of my senses became perverted. I 
 still heard the "false voices" — which were doubly false, 
 for Truth no longer existed. The tricks played upon me by 
 my perverted senses of taste, touch, smell, and sight were 
 the source of great mental anguish. None of my food had 
 its usual flavor. This soon led to that common delusion that 
 some of it contained poison — not deadly poison, for I knew 
 that my enemies hated me too much to allow me the boon 
 of death, but poison sufficient to aggravate my discomfort. 
 At breakfast I had cantaloupe, liberally sprinkled with salt. 
 The salt seemed to pucker my mouth, and I believed it to be 
 powdered alum. Usually, with my supper, sliced peaches 
 were served. Though there was sugar on the peaches, salt 
 would have done as well. Salt, sugar, and powdered alum 
 had become the same to me. 
 
 Familiar materials had acquired a different "feel." In the 
 dark, the bed sheets at times seemed like silk. As I had not 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 31 
 
 been born with a golden spoon in my mouth, or other acces- 
 sories of a useless luxury, I believed the detectives had pro- 
 vided these silken sheets for some hostile purpose of their 
 own. What that purpose was I could not divine, and my 
 very inability to arrive at a satisfactory conclusion stimu- 
 lated my brain to the assembling of disturbing thoughts in 
 an almost endless train. Thus does a perverted sense 
 grow by what it feeds on. 
 
 Imaginary breezes struck my face, gentle, but not welcome, 
 most of them from parts of the room where currents of air 
 could not possibly originate. They seemed to come from 
 cracks in the walls and ceiling and annoyed me exceedingly. 
 I thought them in some way related to that Chinese method 
 of torture by which water is allowed to strike the victim's 
 forehead, a drop at a time, until death releases him. 
 
 The old doctrine of brimstone, Hell-fire, and damnation 
 is not so difficult for me to believe as it is for that type of 
 saint who would get to Glory easily, or, at least, substitute 
 for Heaven a sweet and unmerited oblivion. For does not 
 the Devil lurk in one's nasal passages? Stifling fumes of 
 sulphur are as the crisp air of wooded glens compared to 
 the odor of burning human flesh and other pestilential 
 fumes which seemed to assail me. 
 
 My sense of sight was subjected to many weird and un- 
 canny effects. Phantasmagoric visions made their visitations 
 throughout the night, for a time with such regularity that I 
 used to await their coming with a certain restrained curiosity. 
 Although I was not entirely unaware that something was 
 ailing with my mind, I did not accept these visions, or any 
 other abnormal effects of sense, as symptoms of insanity. 
 All these horrors I took for the work of detectives, who sat 
 up nights racking their brains in order to rack and utterly 
 wreck my own with a cruel and unfair "Third Degree." 
 
32 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 Handwriting on the wall has ever struck terror to the 
 hearts of sane men. I remember as one of my most unpleas- 
 ant experiences that I began to see handwriting on the sheets 
 of my bed staring me in the face, and not me alone, but 
 also the spurious relatives who often stood or sat near me. 
 On each fresh sheet placed over me I would soon begin to 
 see words, sentences, and signatures, all in my own hand- 
 writing. Yet I could not decipher any of the words, and 
 this fact dismayed me, for I firmly believed that those who 
 stood about could read them all and found them to be 
 incriminating evidence. 
 
 I imagined that these vision-like effects, with few excep- 
 tions, were produced by a magic-lantern, controlled by 
 some of my myriad persecutors. The lantern was rather a 
 cinematographic contrivance. Moving pictures, often bril- 
 liantly colored, were thrown on the ceiling of my room and 
 sometimes on the sheets of my bed. Human bodies, dis- 
 membered and gory, were one of the most common of these. 
 All this may have been due to the fact that, as a boy, I had 
 fed my imagination on the sensational news of the day as 
 presented in the public press. These papers I had been 
 accustomed to read thoroughly, reading first the worst news 
 and ending with the best — if I had time. Despite the heavy 
 penalty which I now paid for thus loading my mind, I be- 
 lieve this unwise indulgence gave a breadth and variety to 
 my peculiar psychological experience which it otherwise 
 would have lacked. For with an insane ingenuity I managed 
 to connect myself with almost every crime of importance of 
 which I had ever read. 
 
 Dismembered human bodies were not alone my bed-fel- 
 lows at this time. I remember one vision of vivid beauty. 
 Swarms of butterflies and large and gorgeous moths appeared 
 on the sheets. That sight I really enjoyed, knowing that 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 33 
 
 the pretty creatures were not alive; and I wished that the 
 usually unkind operator would continue to minister to my 
 aesthetic taste by feeding it on colors so rich and so faultlessly 
 combined. Another pleasing vision appeared about twi- 
 light several days in succession. I can trace it directly 
 to impressions gained in early childhood. The quaint 
 pictures by Kate Greenaway — little children in attrac- 
 tive dress, playing in old-fashioned gardens — would float 
 through space just outside my windows. The pictures were 
 always accompanied by the gleeful shouts of real children 
 in the neighborhood, who, before being sent to bed by 
 watchful parents, devoted the last hour of the day to play. 
 It was their shouts that stirred my memories of childhood 
 and brought forth these pictures. 
 
 In my chamber of intermittent horrors and momentary 
 delights, uncanny occurrences were frequent. I believed 
 there was some one who at faU of night secreted himself 
 under my bed. That in itself was not peculiar, as sane per- 
 sons, at one time or another, are troubled by that same 
 notion. But my bed-fellow — under the bed — was a 
 detective; and he spent most of his time during the night 
 pressing pieces of ice against my injured heels, to pre- 
 cipitate, as I thought, my overdue confession. 
 
 The piece of ice in the pitcher of water which stood usu- 
 ally on the table clinked against the pitcher's side as its 
 center of gravity shifted through melting. It was many 
 days before I reasoned out the cause of this sound; and until 
 I did I supposed it to be produced by some mechanical 
 device resorted to by the detectives for a purpose. Thus it 
 is that the most trifling occurrence assumes vast significance 
 to an unsound mind afflicted with certain types of delusion. 
 
VI 
 
 After remaining at home for about a month, during which 
 time I showed no improvement mentally, though I did gain 
 physically, I was taken to a private sanatorium. My des- 
 tination was frankly disclosed to me. But my habit of dis- 
 belief had now become confirmed, and I thought myself on 
 the way to a trial in New York City, for some one of the 
 many crimes with which I stood charged. 
 
 My emotions on leaving New Haven were, I imagine, 
 much the same as those of a condemned and penitent crim- 
 inal who looks upon the world for the last time. The day 
 was hot, and, as we drove to the railway station, the blinds 
 on most of the houses in the streets through which we passed 
 were seen to be closed. The reason for this was not then 
 apparent to me. I thought I saw an unbroken line of de- 
 serted houses, and I imagined that their desertion had been 
 deliberately planned as a sign of displeasure on the part of 
 their former occupants. As citizens of New Haven I sup- 
 posed them bitterly ashamed of such a despicable inhabitant 
 as myself. Because of the early hour, the streets were 
 practically deserted. This fact too I interpreted to my own 
 disadvantage ; and, as the carriage crossed the main business 
 thoroughfare, I took what I believed to be my last look at 
 that portion of my native city. 
 
 From the carriage I was carried to the train and placed 
 in the smoking-car in the last seat on the right-hand side. 
 The back of the seat next in front was reversed so that my 
 legs might be placed in a comfortable position, and one of 
 
 34 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 35 
 
 the boards used by card-playing travelers was placed beneath 
 them as a support. With a consistent degree of suspicion 
 I paid particular attention to a blue mark on the face of the 
 railroad ticket held by my custodian. I took it to be a means 
 of identification for use in court, but wherefore, I knew not. 
 That one's memory may perform its function in the grip 
 of Unreason itself is proved by the fact that my memory 
 retains an impression, and an accurate one, of virtually 
 everything that befell me, except when under the influence 
 of an anaesthetic or in the unconscious hours of undisturbed 
 sleep. Important events, trifling conversations, and more 
 trifling thoughts of my own, are now recalled with ease 
 and accuracy; whereas, prior to my illness and up to j 
 August 30th, igo2, when I again got in touch with my 
 own world, mine was an ordinary memory when it was 
 not noticeably poor. At school and in college I stood 
 lowest in those studies in which success depended largely 
 upon this faculty. Psychiatrists inform me that it is not 
 unusual for patients afiiicted as I was to retain accurate 
 impressions of their experiences while ill. To laymen this 
 may seem almost miraculous, yet it is not so; nor is it even I 
 remarkable. Assuming that an insane person's memory is I 
 capable of recording impressions at all, remembrance, for \ 
 one in the torturing grip of delusions of persecution, should 
 be doubly easy. This deduction is in accord with the ac- , 
 cepted psychological law : that the retention of an impression 
 in the memory depends largely upon the intensity of the im- 
 pression itself, and the frequency of its repetition. Fearing 
 to speak lest I should incriminate myself and others, gave 
 to my impressions the requisite intensity, and the daily re- 
 currence of the same general line of thought served to fix all 
 impressions in my then supersensitive memory. 
 
36 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 Shortly before seven in the morning, en route to the sana- 
 torium, the train passed through a manufacturing center. 
 Many workmen were lounging in front of a factory, most of 
 them reading newspapers. I believed these papers con- 
 tained an account of me and my crimes, and I thought every- 
 one along the route knew who I was and what I was, and 
 that I was on that particular train. Few seemed to pay any 
 attention to me, yet this very fact looked to be a part of 
 some well laid plan of the detectives. 
 
 The sanatorium for which I was destined was situated in 
 the country, and when we reached a certain station I was 
 carried from the train to a carriage and driven thither. Just 
 as we alighted from the train I caught sight of a former col- 
 lege acquaintance, whose appearance I thought was designed 
 to let me know that Yale, which I believed I had disgraced, 
 was one of the powers behind my throne of torture. 
 
 Soon after I reached my room in the sanatorium, the 
 supervisor entered. Drawing a table close to the bed he 
 placed upon it a slip of paper which he asked me to sign. I 
 looked upon this as a trick of the detectives to get a 
 specimen of my handwriting. I now know that the signing 
 of the slip is a legal requirement, with which every patient is 
 supposed to comply upon entering such an institution — 
 private in character — unless he has been committed by 
 some court. The exact wording of this " voluntary commit- 
 ment" I do not now recall; but, in substance, it was an 
 agreement to abide by the rules of the institution — what- 
 ever they were — and to submit to such restraint as might 
 be deemed necessary. Had I not felt the weight of the 
 world on my shoulders, I believe my sense of humor would 
 have caused me to laugh outright. For the signing of such 
 an agreement by one so situated was, even to my mind, a 
 farce. After much coaxing I was induced to go so far as to 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 37 
 
 take the pen in my hand. There I hesitated. The super- 
 visor apparently thought I might write with more ease if the 
 paper were placed on a book. And so I might, had he se- 
 lected a book of a different title. One more likely to arouse 
 suspicions in my mind could not have been found in a 
 search of the Congressional Library. I had left New York 
 on June 15 th, and it was now in the direction of that city 
 that my present trip had taken me. I considered this but 
 the first step of my return under the auspices of the Police 
 Department. "Called Back" was the title of the book that 
 stared me in the face. After refusing for a long time I 
 finally weakened and signed the shp ; but I did not place it 
 on the book. To have done that would, in my mind, have 
 been tantamount to giving consent to extradition; and I 
 was in no mood to assist the detectives in their mean 
 work. 
 
 At what cost had I signed that commitment slip? 
 To me it was the act of signing my own death-war- 
 rant. And why should one in my irresponsible con- 
 dition have been forced to undergo so heart-breaking an 
 ordeal ? If I was a mental incompetent — and I was — 
 why go through a senseless formality, meaningless in the 
 eyes of the law which declares an insane person incapable 
 of intelligent and binding action? Under such conditions 
 a patient should not be annoyed, and in some instances tor- 
 tured, by being compelled to attend to the details of his own 
 commitment. As well ask the condemned to adjust the 
 noose. I am not opposed to " voluntary commitments." 
 I simply plead for their confinement to cases in which 
 the patient sufficiently appreciates his condition to be 
 able to make a choice. If he be past that condition let 
 
38 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 the law authorize some relative or friend to look after his 
 commitment and, together with competent doctors, assume 
 the entire responsibility for depriving him of his liberty. 
 Though I have ventured one suggestion regarding com- 
 mitments, I shall not at this time presume to attack the 
 problem involved. Its solution can come only after the 
 ablest members of the medical and legal professions have 
 given it the consideration it deserves. 
 
 During the entire time that my delusions of persecution, 
 as they are called, persisted, I could not but respect the mind 
 which had laid out so comprehensive and devihshly ingenious 
 and, at times, artistic a "Third Degree," as I was called 
 upon to bear. And an innate modesty (more or less fugi- 
 tive since these peculiar experiences) does not forbid my 
 mentioning the fact that I still respect that mind. 
 
 Suffering, such as I endured during the month of August 
 in my own home, continued with gradually lessening force 
 during the eight months I remained in this sanatorium. 
 Nevertheless my suffering during the first four of these eight 
 months was intense. All my senses were still perverted. My 
 sense of sight was the first to right itself — nearly enough, at 
 least, to rob the detectives of their moving pictures. But, be- 
 fore the last fitful film had run through my mind, I beheld 
 one which I shall now describe. I can trace it directly to 
 an impression made on my memory about two years earlier, 
 when I was still sane. 
 
 Shortly after going to New York to live I had explored the 
 Eden Musee. One of the most grewsome of the spectacles 
 which I had seen in its famed Chamber of Horrors was a 
 representation of a gorilla, holding in its arms the gory body 
 of a woman. It was that impression which now revived 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 39 
 
 in my mind. But, by a process strictly in accordance with 
 Darwin's theory, the Eden Musee gorilla had become a man 
 — in appearance, not unlike the beast that had inspired my 
 distorted thought. This man held a bloody dagger which 
 he repeatedly plunged into the woman's breast. The appa- 
 rition did not terrify me at all. In fact I found it interesting, 
 for I looked upon it as a contrivance of the detectives. Its 
 purpose I could not imagine, and it distressed me the less 
 as I reasoned that no additional criminal charges could make 
 my situation worse than it already was. 
 
 For a month or two, "false voices" continued to annoy 
 me. And if there is a hell conducted on the principles of my 
 temporary hell, gossipers will one day wish they had attended 
 strictly to their own business. This is not a confession. I 
 am no gossiper, though I cannot deny that I have occa- 
 sionally gossiped — a little. And this was my punishment : 
 persons in an adjoining room seemed to be repeating with 
 reference to me the very same things which I had said of 
 others on these communicative occasions. I supposed that 
 those whom I had talked about had in some way found me 
 out, and intended now to take their revenge. If aU makers 
 of idle talk could be put through such a corrective course, 
 idle talkers would be abolished from the earth. 
 
 My sense of smell, too, became normal; but my sense 
 of taste was slow in recovering. At each meal, poison was 
 still the pihe de resistance, and it was not surprising that I 
 sometimes dallied one, two, or three hours over a meal, and 
 often ended by not eating it at all. 
 
 There was, however, another reason for my frequent 
 refusal to take food, in my belief that the detectives had 
 resorted to a more subtle method of detection. They now 
 intended by each article of food to suggest a certain idea, 
 and I was expected to recognize the idea thus suggested. 
 
40 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 Conviction or acquittal depended upon my correct interpre- 
 tation of their symbols, and my interpretation was to be 
 signified by my eating, or not eating, the several kinds of 
 food placed before me. To have eaten a burnt crust of 
 bread would have been a confession of arson. Why? 
 Simply because the charred crust suggested fire; and, as 
 bread is the staff of life, would it not be an inevitable 
 deduction that life had been destroyed — destroyed by fire 
 — and that I was the destroyer ? On one day to eat a 
 given article of food meant confession. The next day, or 
 the next meal, a refusal to eat it meant confession. This 
 complication of logic made it doubly difficult for me to 
 keep from incriminating myself and others. 
 
 It can easily be seen that I was between several devils and 
 the deep sea. To eat or not to eat, perplexed me more than 
 the problem conveyed by a few shorter words perplexed a 
 certain prince, who, had he lived a few centuries later (out 
 of a book) might have been forced to enter a kingdom where 
 kings and princes are made and unmade on short notice. 
 Indeed, he might have lost his principality entirely — or, 
 at least, his subjects; for as I later had occasion to observe, 
 the frequency with which a dethroned reason mounts a throne 
 and rules a world is such that self-crowned royalty in asylums 
 for the insane receives but scant homage from the less elated 
 members of the court. 
 
 For several weeks I ate but little. Though the desire for 
 food was not wanting, my mind (that dog-in-the-manger) 
 refused to let me satisfy my hunger. Coaxing by the attend- 
 ants was of little avail; force was usually of less. But the 
 threat that liquid nourishment would be administered 
 through my nostrils sometimes prevailed, for the attribute 
 of shrewdness was not so utterly lost that I could not choose 
 the less of two evils. 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 41 
 
 What I looked upon as a gastronomic ruse of the detec- 
 tives sometimes overcame my fear of eating. Every Sunday 
 ice-cream was served with dinner. At the beginning of the 
 meal a large pyramid of it would be placed before me in a 
 saucer several sizes too small. I believed that it was never 
 to be mine unless I first partook of the more substantial 
 fare. As I dallied over the meal, that delicious pyramid 
 would gradually melt, slowly filling the small saucer, which 
 I knew could not long continue to hold all of its original 
 contents. As this liquefying process advanced I became 
 more indifferent to my eventual fate; and, invariably, before 
 a drop of that precious reward had dripped from the saucer, 
 I had eaten enough of the dinner to prove my title to the 
 seductive dessert. Moreover, during its enjoyment, I no 
 longer cared a whit for charges or convictions of all the 
 crimes on the calendar. This fact is less trifling than it 
 seems; for it proves the value of strategy as opposed to 
 brute and sometimes brutal force, of which I shall presently 
 give some illuminating examples. 
 
VII 
 
 For the first few weeks after my arrival at the sanatorium, 
 I was cared for by two attendants, one by day and one by 
 night. I was still helpless, being unable to put my feet out 
 of bed, much less upon the floor, and it was necessary 
 that I be continually watched, lest an impulse to walk should 
 seize me. After a month or six weeks I grew stronger, and 
 from that time had but one attendant, who was with me all 
 day, and, at night, slept in the same room. 
 
 The earliest possible dismissal of one of my two attendants 
 was expedient for the family purse; for the charges at this, 
 as at all other sanatoriums operated for private gain, are 
 nothing less than extortionate. But such are the deficiencies 
 in the prevailing treatment of the insane that relief in one 
 respect occasions evil in another. No sooner was the num- 
 ber of attendants thus reduced than I was subjected to a 
 detestable form of restraint which amounted to torture. To 
 guard me against myself while my remaining attendant slept, 
 my hands were imprisoned in what is known as a "muff." 
 A "muff," innocent enough to the eyes of those who have 
 never worn one, is in reality a rehc of the Inquisition. It 
 is an instrument of restraint which has been in use for cen- 
 turies among ignorant practitioners, and even in many of 
 our public and private institutions is still in use. Such an 
 incident as I am about to recount cannot occur in a properly 
 conducted institution, and that fact made its occurrence a 
 crime, though perhaps an unintentional one; for good 
 motives bom of professional ignorance are little, if at all, 
 
 42 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 43 
 
 better than deliberate bad intention. The muff I wore was 
 made of canvas, and differed in construction from a muff 
 designed for the hands of fashion only in the inner partition, 
 also of canvas, which separated my hands but allowed 
 them to overlap. At either end was a strap which buckled 
 tightly around the wrist and was locked. 
 
 The assistant physician, when he announced to me that 
 I was to be subjected every night to this restraint, broke the 
 news gently — so gently that I did not then know, nor did I 
 guess for several months, why this thing was done to me. 
 And thus it was that I drew deductions of my own which 
 added not a little to my torture. I have already suggested 
 that an insane person should be treated as sane in all the \ 
 ways that are possible. It is a mistaken delicacy of feeling \ 
 which impels doctors and others in charge to avoid any direct 
 reference to a patient's insanity in the presence of the patient / 
 himself. I believe it would have mitigated my distress to ' 
 have been told in plain English that I was insane and had, 
 because of that condition, attempted suicide. To be sure I 
 should perhaps have regarded those about me as suffering 1 
 under a strange delusion, but I believe that the reason for ' 
 their behavior would have wormed its way into my under- 
 standing months earlier than it did. 
 
 However, the physician in charge was really trying, so far 
 as he knew how, to do a very disagreeable thing as delicately 
 as possible. The gas-jet in my room was situated at a dis- 
 tance, and stronger light was needed to find the keyholes 
 and lock the muff when adjusted. Hence, an attendant 
 was standing by with a lighted candle. Seating himself on 
 the side of the bed the physician said: "You won't try again 
 to do what you did in New Haven, will you?" Now one 
 may have done many things in a city where he has lived for 
 a score of years, and it is not surprising that I failed to catch 
 
44 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 the meaning of the doctor's question. It was only after 
 months of secret puzzling that I at last did discover his refer- 
 ence to my attempted suicide. But now the burning candle 
 in the hands of the attendant, and a certain similarity be- 
 tween the doctor's name and the name of a man once accused 
 of arson, led me to imagine that in some way I had been 
 connected with that crime; and for months I firmly believed 
 I stood charged as an accomplice. 
 
 The putting on of the muff was the most humiliating in- 
 cident of my life. The shaving of my legs and the wearing 
 on my brow of the court-plaster brand of infamy had been 
 humiliating, but those experiences had not overwhelmed my 
 very heart as did this bitter ordeal. I resisted weakly, and, 
 after the muff was adjusted and locked, for the first time 
 since my mental collapse, I wept. And I remember distinctly 
 why I wept. The key that locked the muff imlocked in 
 imagination the door of the home in New Haven which I be- 
 lieved I had disgraced, — and seemed for a time to unlock 
 my heart. Anguish beat my mind into a momentary sanity, 
 and with a wholly sane emotion I keenly felt my imagined 
 disgrace. As is usual under such circumstances my thoughts 
 centered on my mother. Her (and other members of 
 the family) I could plainly see at home in a state of dejection 
 and despair over her imprisoned and heartless son. I wore 
 the muff each night for several weeks, and for the first few 
 nights the unhappy glimpses of a ruined home recurred and 
 increased my suffering. 
 
 It was not always as an instrument of restraint that the 
 muff was employed. Frequently it was used as a means of 
 discipline, on account of supposed stubborn disobedience to 
 the attendant. Many times was I roughly overpowered by 
 two attendants who locked my hands and coerced me to 
 do whatever I had refused to do. My arms and hands were 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 45 
 
 my only weapons of defense. My feet were still in plaster 
 casts, and my back had been so severely injured as to neces- 
 sitate my lying flat upon it most of the time. It was so 
 that these unequal fights were fought. And I had not even 
 the satisfaction of tongue-lashing my oppressors for I was 
 practically speechless. 
 
 My attendants, like most others in such institutions, were 
 ill- qualified to understand the operations of my mind, and 
 what they could not understand they would seldom tolerate. 
 Yet they were not entirely to blame. They were simply 
 carrying out to the letter, orders which they had received 
 from_J;he doctors. In fact one of these attendants later 
 became so disgusted with the continued exercise of unfair- 
 ness toward me that he secretly favored me by refraining 
 from force when I refused to do certain things which he 
 knew would annoy and distress me. 
 
 To ask a patient in my condition to take a little medicated 
 sugar seemed reasonable. I concede that; and my refusal 
 was exasperating. Had I been in the place of my keepers, 
 and they in mine, I might have acted no more wisely than 
 they. But, from my point of view, my refusal was justifiable. 
 That innocuous sugar disc to me seemed saturated with the 
 blood of loved ones ; and so much as to touch it was to shed 
 their blood — perhaps on the very scaffold on which I was 
 destined to die. For myself I cared little. I was anxious 
 to die, and eagerly would I have taken the sugar disc had I 
 had any reason to believe that it was deadly poison. The 
 sooner I could die and be forgotten the better for all with 
 whom I had ever come in contact. To continue to live 
 was simply to be the treacherous tool of unscrupulous detec- 
 tives, eager to exterminate my innocent relatives and 
 friends, if so their fame could be made secure in the annals 
 of their craft. 
 
46 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 But the thoughts associated with the taking of the medicine 
 were seldom twice alike. If, before it, something happened 
 to remind me of mother, father, a relative, or a friend, I 
 imagined that compliance would compromise, if not even- 
 tually destroy, that particular person. Who would not 
 resist when meek acceptance would be a confession which 
 would doom his own mother or father to prison, or ignominy, 
 or death ? It was for this that I was reviled, for this, sub- 
 jected to cruel restraint. 
 
 Let those in charge of such institutions, who have a stub- 
 born patient to deal with, remember what I say. In the 
 strict sense of the word there is no such thing as a 
 genuinely stubborn insane person. The stubborn men 
 and women in the world are sane; and the fortunate 
 prevalence of sanity may be approximately estimated by 
 the preponderance of stubbornness in society at large. 
 When one possessed of the blessed means of resolving 
 his own errors continues to cherish an unreasonable be- 
 lief — that is stubbornness. But for a man bereft of reason 
 to adhere to an idea which to him seems absolutely correct 
 and true because he has been deprived of the means of detect- 
 ing his error — that is not stubbornness. It is a symptom 
 of his disease, and merits the indulgence of forbearance, if 
 not genuine sympathy. Certainly the afflicted one deserves 
 no punishment. As well punish with a slap the cheek that 
 is disfigured by the mumps. 
 
 The attendant who was with me most of the time that I 
 remained at the sanatorium was a young man of about my 
 own age. He had never before worked in an institution of 
 that character, though he had acted as a nurse and com- 
 panion in cases where the patient could be treated at home. 
 Him I regarded as a detective, or, rather, as two detectives, 
 one of whom watched me by day, and the other — a perfect 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 47 
 
 double — by night. He was an enemy, and his professed 
 sympathy — which I now know was genuine — only made 
 me hate him the more. As he was ignorant of the methods 
 of treatment in vogue in hospitals for the insane it was several 
 weeks before this exceptional attendant dared put in jeop- 
 ardy his position by presuming to shield me against unwise 
 orders of the doctors. But when at last he awoke to the 
 situation he repeatedly interposed in my behalf. More 
 than once the doctor who was both owner and superintend- 
 ent, threatened to discharge him for alleged ofhciousness. 
 But better judgment usually held the doctor's wrath in 
 check, for he realized that not one attendant in a hundred 
 was so competent. It was indeed contrary to custom (for 
 in this matter attendants are unlike trained nurses in general 
 hospitals) that this attendant should take a lively personal 
 interest in me. Surely it was not the paltry and insulting 
 four and a half dollars a week that induced him to work 
 under such doctors, and in an institution which he de- 
 tested. Such orders as he modified were without exception 
 unfair, and for exercising his superior judgment he deserves 
 no criticism. He was unconsciously an advocate of Non- 
 Restraint, working in an institution where Restraint was 
 tolerated and pretty freely used. Naturally there was 
 friction, for Restraint is as a cinder in the eye of one 
 who appreciates the advantages of humane treatment. 
 
 Not only did my attendant frequently exhibit more wis- 
 dom than the superintendent, but he also obeyed the dictates 
 of a better conscience than that of his nominal superior, the 
 assistant physician, as the following incident will prove. 
 On three occasions this assistant physician treated me with 
 a signal lack of consideration, and in at least one instance 
 he was \acious. When this latter incident occurred I was, 
 both physically and mentally, helpless. My feet were swollen 
 
48 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 and still in plaster bandages. I was all but mute, uttering 
 only an occasional expletive when forced to do things against 
 my will. 
 
 One morning Doctor No-name (he represents a t3^e) en- 
 tered my room. 
 
 "Good-morning! How are you feeling?" he asked. 
 
 No answer. 
 
 "Aren't you feeling well?" 
 
 No answer. 
 
 "Why don't you talk?" said he with irritation. 
 
 Still no answer, except perhaps a contemptuous look such 
 as is so often the essence of eloquence. Suddenly, and with- 
 out the slightest warning, as a petulant child locked in a room 
 for disobedience might treat a pillow, he seized my arm and 
 jerked me from the bed. It was wonderful that the bones of 
 my ankles and feet, not yet thoroughly knitted, were not 
 again broken. And this was the performance of the very 
 man who had locked my hands in the "muff," that I 
 might not injure myself! 
 
 I uttered not a word, — not even the usual automatic 
 expletive. 
 
 "Why don't you talk?" he again asked. 
 
 Though rather slow in replying (it has now been over 
 seven years), I will take pleasure in doing so by sending that 
 doctor a copy of this book — my answer — if he will but 
 send me his address. This physician left the sanatorium 
 about two years after I did. That such a man could con- 
 tinue in so responsible a position, for so long, indicates the 
 little care generally exercised by owners of sanatoriums in 
 the selection of their assistants. 
 
 It is not a pleasant duty to brand any physician for cruelty 
 and incompetence, for the worst that ever lived has un- 
 doubtedly done many good deeds. But here is the type of 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 49 
 
 man that has wrought havoc among the helpless insane — 
 a type which unfortunately is still too often found (only not 
 found soon enough) in our private and public institutions. 
 It therefore seems but fair that the men whose destiny put 
 them in touch with one who has lived to publish his story 
 should at least bear the brunt of illustration. 
 
VIII 
 
 My escape from death when I dropped from the window- 
 is hardly more remarkable than the perfect present condi- 
 tion of my feet and ankles, which were that day so seriously 
 injured. The fact that I am not now a cripple I ascribe to 
 two causes. First : to God — or Providence, or Fate, or luck, 
 if you choose. And second: such earthly praise as may be 
 properly bestowed belongs to the physician who, with con- 
 summate skill, set my broken bones. 
 
 It was at the sanatorium that my ankles were finally re- 
 stored to a semblance of their former utility. They were 
 there subjected to a course of heroic treatment; but as to-day 
 they permit me to walk, run, and dance, as those do who 
 have never been crippled, my hours of torture endured under 
 my first attempts to walk are almost pleasant to recall. 
 About five months from the date of my fall I was allowed, 
 or rather compelled, to place my feet on the floor and at- 
 tempt to walk. They were still swollen, absolutely with- 
 out action, and acutely sensitive to the slightest pressure. 
 From the time my feet were injured, until I again began 
 to talk — two years later — I asked not one question as to 
 the probability of my ever regaining the use of them. The 
 fact was, I never expected to walk naturally again. The 
 doctor's desire to have me walk I believed to be inspired by 
 the detectives, of whom, indeed, I supposed the doctor him- 
 self to be one. Had there been any confession to make I 
 am sure it would have been yielded under the stress of this 
 ultimate torture. The million needle points which, just 
 
 5° 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 51 
 
 prior to my mental collapse, seemed to goad my brain, now 
 centered their unwelcome attention on the soles of my feet. 
 Had the floor been studded with minute stilettoes my suffer- 
 ings could hardly have been more intense. For several weeks 
 assistance was necessary with each attempt to walk, and 
 each attempt was an ordeal. Every drop of blood in my 
 body seemed to find an irresistible attraction at the points 
 of pain. Sweat stood in beads on either foot, wrung from 
 my blood by agony. Believing that it would be only a 
 question of time when I should be tried, condemned, and 
 executed for some one of my countless felonies, I looked 
 upon the attempt to prevent my continuing a cripple for 
 the brief remainder of my days as prompted by anything 
 but benevolence. 
 
 I find no fault with the heroic treatment which necessi- 
 tated the bearing of my weight on my feet at that time; but 
 I do think the superintendent of this sanatorium would have 
 proved himself more himiane had he not peremptorily or- 
 dered my attendant to discontinue the use of a support which, 
 until the plaster bandages were removed, had enabled me 
 to keep my legs in a horizontal position during those hours 
 of the day that I sat in a chair. His order was that I 
 should put my legs down and keep them down, whether it 
 caused me suffering or not. The pain was of course intense 
 when the blood again began to circulate freely through tis- 
 sues long imused to its full pressure, and so evident was 
 my distress that the attendant disregarded the doctor's com- 
 mand.^ He would remove the forbidden support for only a 
 few minutes at a time, gradually lengthening the intervals 
 until at last I was able to do without the support entirely. 
 But, while favoring me, he had to remain on watch to guard 
 
 ' I am here corroborated by the sworn statement of the attendant who has 
 given me an affidavit which covers all incidents in which he played a part. 
 
52 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 against discovery. Each day for several weeks I was forced 
 at first to stagger and finally to walk across the room and 
 back to the bed. The distance was increased as the pain 
 diminished, until I was able to walk without more discomfort 
 than a comparatively pleasant sensation of lameness. For 
 at least two months after I first touched my feet to the floor 
 attendants had to carry me up and down stairs, and for 
 several months longer I went flat-footed. 
 
 Delusions of persecution — which include "delusions of 
 self -reference " — though a source of annoyance while J was 
 in an inactive state, annoyed and distressed me even more 
 when I began to move about and was obliged to associate 
 with other patients. To my mind not only were the doctors 
 and attendants detectives; each patient was a detective and 
 the whole institution was a part of the "Third Degree." 
 Scarcely any remark was made in my presence that I could 
 not twist into a cleverly veiled reference to myseK. In each 
 person I could see a resemblance to persons I had known, or 
 to the principals or victims of the crimes with which I 
 imagined myself charged. I refused to read, for to read 
 veiled charges and fail to assert my innocence was to 
 incriminate both myself and others. But I looked with 
 longing glances upon all printed matter and, as my curiosity 
 was continuafly piqued, this enforced abstinence grew to be 
 well-nigh intolerable. 
 
 It became again highly expedient to the family purse, upon 
 which my illness was so serious a drain, that every possible 
 saving be made. Therefore I was transferred from the main 
 building, where I had a private room and a special attend- 
 ant, to a ward where I was to mingle, imder an aggregate 
 sort of supervision, with fifteen or twenty other patients. 
 Here I had no special attendant by day, though one slept 
 in my room at night. 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 53 
 
 Of this ward I had heard alarming reports — and these 
 from the lips of several attendants. I was therefore greatly 
 disturbed at the proposed change. But, the transfer once 
 accomplished, after a few days I really liked my new quar- 
 ters better than the old. During the entire time I remained 
 at the sanatorium I was more alert mentally than I gave 
 evidence of being. But not until after my removal to this 
 ward where I was left alone for hours every day did I dare 
 to give evidence of my alertness. Here I even went so far 
 on one occasion as to joke with my new attendant. He 
 had been trying to persuade me to take a bath. I refused, 
 mainly because I did not like the looks of the bath-room, 
 which, with its cement floor and central drain, resembled 
 the washing-room of an improved stable. After all else 
 had failed the attendant tried the role of sympathizer. 
 
 "Now I know just how you feel," said he, "I can put 
 myself in your place." 
 
 "Well, if you can, do it and take the bath yourself," said I. 
 
 The remark is brilliant by contrast with the dismal source 
 from which it escaped. "Escaped" is the word, for the 
 fear that I should hasten my trial by exhibiting too great a 
 gain in health, mental or physical, was already upon me; and 
 it controlled much of my conduct during the succeeding 
 months of despondency. 
 
 Having now no special attendant I spent many hours in 
 my room, alone, but not absolutely alone, for somewhere 
 the eye of a detective was evermore upon me. I soon 
 fancied that my case had been transferred from the State 
 to the Federal authorities, and the fear of an all-powerful 
 Secret Service did not tend to ease my laboring imagination. 
 Comparative solitude, however, gave me courage and soon 
 I began to read, regardless of consequences. During the 
 entire period of my depression, every publication seemed to 
 
54 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 have been written and printed for me, and me alone. Books, 
 magazines, and newspapers seemed to be special editions. 
 The fact that I well knew how inordinate would be the cost 
 of such a procedure in no way shook my faith in it. In- 
 ) deed, that I was costing my persecutors fabulous sums of 
 
 - money was a source of secret satisfaction — a psychological 
 phenomenon, perhaps associated with delusions of grandeur 
 which long afterwards asserted themselves. During the earH- 
 est stages of my illness I had lost count of time, and the 
 calendar did not right itself until the day when I largely 
 regained my reason. Meanwhile, the date on each newspaper 
 was, according to my reckoning, two weeks out of the way. 
 This confirmed my belief in the special editions as a part of 
 the "Third Degree." 
 
 Most sane people think that no insane person can reason 
 logically. But this is not so. Upon unreasonable prem- 
 
 ,- ises I made most reasonable deductions, and that at the time 
 when my mind was in its most disturbed condition. Had 
 
 ; the papers which I read on the day which I supposed to be 
 February ist borne a January date, I might not then, for 
 so long a time, have believed in a special edition. Probably 
 I should have inferred that the regular editions had been 
 held back. But the papers I had were dated about two 
 weeks ahead. Now if a sane person on February ist re- 
 ceive a newspaper dated February 14th, he will be fully jus- 
 tified in thinking something wrong, either with the paper or 
 with himself. But the shifted calendar which had planted 
 itself in my mind meant as much to me as the true calendar 
 does to any sane business man. During the seven hundred 
 and ninety-eight days of depression I drew countless incor- 
 rect deductions. But such as they were they were deduc- 
 tions, and the mental process was not other than that which 
 takes place in a well-ordered mind. 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 55 
 
 My gradually increasing vitality, although it increased my 
 fear of trial, impelled me to take new risks. I began to 
 read not only newspapers, but also such books as were placed 
 within my reach. Yet had they not been placed there I should 
 have gone without them, for I would never ask even for 
 what I greatly desired and knew I could have for the asking. 
 
 Whatever love of literature I now have dates from this 
 time, when I was a mental incompetent and confined. Lying 
 on a shelf in my room was a large volume of George Eliot's 
 works. For several days I cast longing glances at the book 
 and finally plucked up the courage to take little nibbles now 
 and then. These were so good that I grew bold and at last 
 began to read the book openly. Its contents at the time 
 made but little impression on my mind, but I enjoyed it. I 
 read also some of Addison's essays ; and had I been fortunate 
 enough to have read these earlier in life I might have been 
 spared the delusion that I could detect in many passages the 
 altering hand of my persecutors. 
 
 The friendly attendant, from whom I was now separated, 
 tried upon all occasions to send his favors after me into my 
 new quarters. At first he came in person to see me, but the 
 superintendent soon forbade that, and also ordered him not 
 to communicate with me in any way. It was this, and other 
 differences naturally arising between such a doctor and such 
 an attendant, that soon brought about the discharge of the 
 latter. But " discharge" is hardly the word, for the attendant 
 had become disgusted with the institution, and had remained 
 so long only because of his interest in me. When he left, he 
 informed the owner that he would soon cause my removal 
 from the institution. This he did. He persuaded my rela- 
 tives to let him care for me in his own home. I left the sana- 
 
56 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 torium in March, 1901, and remained for three months in the 
 home of my former attendant who lived with a grandmother 
 and an aunt in a small town not far from New Haven. 
 
 It is not to be inferred that I entertained any affection for 
 my friendly keeper. I continued to regard him as an enemy; 
 and my life at his home became a monotonous round of 
 displeasures. I took my three meals a day. I would sit 
 listlessly for hours at a time in the house. Daily I went out 
 
 — attended, of course — for short walks about the town. 
 These were not enjoyable. I beheved everybody was 
 famihar with my black record and expected me to be put to 
 death. Indeed, I wondered why passers-by did not revile or 
 even stone me. Once I was sure I heard a little girl call me 
 "Traitor!" That, I believe, was my last "false voice," but 
 it made such an impression that I can even now recall 
 vividly the appearance of that dreadful child. 
 
 During these three months I again refused to read books, 
 though they were within reach, and I returned to newspapers 
 
 — probably because I feared to indicate too much improve- 
 ment and thus hasten my trial. 
 
 My attendant and his relatives were very kind and very 
 patient — for I was still intractable. But their efforts to 
 make me comfortable, so far as they had any effect, made 
 keener my desire for death at my own hands. I shrank 
 from death; — but I preferred to die by my own hand and 
 take the blame for it, rather than to be executed and bring 
 lasting disgrace on my family, friends, and I may add with 
 truth, on Yale. For I reasoned that parents throughout the 
 country would withhold their sons from a university which 
 numbered among its graduates such a despicable being as I. 
 But from any tragic act I was providentially restrained by the 
 very delusion which gave birth to the desire, — in a way which 
 signally appeared on a later and, to me, memorable day. 
 
IX 
 
 I AM in a position not unlike that of a man whose obituary 
 notice has appeared prematurely. Few men have ever had 
 a better opportunity than I to test the quality of their rel- 
 atives' affection, and similarly to test their friends. That 
 my relatives and friends did their duty and did it willingly 
 is naturally a constant source of satisfaction to me. Indeed, 
 I believe that that unbroken record of devotion is one of the 
 factors which have made it possible for me to take up again 
 my duties in the social and business world with a comfort- 
 able feeling of continuity. I can now view my past with as 
 much complacency as does the man whose life has been uni- 
 formly uneventful. 
 
 As I have seen scores of insane persons neglected by their 
 relatives — a neglect which recovered patients resent and 
 often brood upon — my sense of gratitude is the livelier, and 
 especially so because of the difficulty with which friendly in- 
 tercourse with me was maintained during two of the three 
 years I was ill. Relatives and friends frequently called to see 
 me. True, these calls were trying for all concerned. I spoke 
 to none, not even to my mother and father. For, though they 
 all appeared about as they used to appear, I was able to de- 
 tect some slight difference in look or gesture, and this was 
 enough to confirm my belief that they were impersonators, 
 engaged in a conspiracy, not merely to entrap me, but to 
 incriminate those whom they impersonated. It is not 
 strange, then, that I refused to have anything to say to them, 
 or to permit them to come near me. To have kissed the 
 
 57 
 
58 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 woman who was my mother, but whom I believed to be a 
 Federal conspirator, would have been an act of betrayal. 
 These interviews were much harder for my relatives and 
 friends than for me. But even to me they were in the nature 
 of ordeals; and though I suffered less at these particular 
 moments than my callers did, my sum of suffering was greater, 
 for I was constantly anticipating these unwelcome but event- 
 ually beneficial visitations. 
 
 Suppose my relatives and friends had held aloof during 
 this apparently hopeless period, what to-day would be my 
 feelings toward them? Let others answer. For over two 
 years I considered all letters forgeries. Yet the day came 
 when I convinced myself of their genuineness and the gen- 
 uineness of the love of those who sent them. Perhaps some 
 of the persons related to the two hundred thousand victims of 
 insanity in this country to-day will find some comfort in this 
 fact. To be on the safe and humane side let every sane rel- 
 ative and friend of persons so afflicted remember the Golden 
 Rule, which has never been suspended with respect to the 
 insane. Go to see them, with as much of the light of sanity 
 as you possess; treat them sanely, write them sane letters; 
 keep them informed about the home-circle; let not your devo- 
 tion flag, nor accept any repulse. There is a sure reward — 
 sometime — somewhere. 
 
 The consensus of opinion now was that my condition was 
 unlikely ever to improve, and the question of my commit- 
 ment to some institution where incurable cases could be 
 treated came up for decision. While it was being consid- 
 ered my attendant kept assuring me that it would be unnec- 
 essary to commit me to an institution if I would only show 
 some improvement. For that purpose he repeatedly sug- 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 59 
 
 gested that I go to New Haven and spend a day at home. 
 I did finally indicate my willingness to make the trip; and 
 nothing proves more conclusively my dread of a hospital 
 for the insane than my action that day. I did not wish to 
 go to New Haven. I dreaded doing so. To my best knowl- 
 edge and belief I had no home there, nor did I have any 
 relatives or friends who would greet me upon my return. 
 How could they, if still free, even approach me, while I was 
 surrounded by detectives? Then, too, I had a lurking sus- 
 picion that my attendant's offer was made in the belief that 
 I would not dare accept it. By taking him at his word I 
 knew that I should at least have an opportunity to test the 
 truth of many of his statements regarding my old home. Life 
 had become insupportable ; and back of my consent to return 
 was a willingness to beard the detectives in their own den, 
 regardless of consequences. With these and many other 
 reflections I started for the train. The events of the journey 
 which followed are of no moment. We soon reached the 
 New Haven station; and, as I had expected, no relative or 
 friend was there to greet us. This apparent indifference of 
 relatives seemed to support my suspicion that my attendant 
 had not told me the truth; but I found little satisfaction in 
 uncovering his deceit, for the more of a liar I proved him to 
 be, the worse would be my position. We walked to the front 
 of the station and stood there for almost half an hour. The 
 unfortunate but perfectly natural wording of a question 
 caused the delay. 
 
 "Well, shall we go home?" said my attendant. 
 
 How could I say "Yes"? I had no home. I feel sure 
 I should finally have said "No," had he continued to put 
 the question in that form. Consciously or unconsciously, 
 however, he altered it. "Shall we go to 30 Trumbull 
 Street?" That was what I had been waiting for. Cer- 
 
6o A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 tainly I would go to the house designated by that number. 
 I had come to New Haven to see that house; and I had just 
 a faint hope that its appearance and the appearance of its 
 occupants might prove convincing. 
 
 At home my visit came as a complete surprise. I could 
 not believe that my relatives — if they were relatives — had 
 not been informed of my presence in the city, and their 
 words and actions upon my arrival confirmed suspicion and 
 killed the faint hope I had briefly cherished. My hosts were 
 simply the same old persecutors with whom I had already 
 had too much to do. Soon after my arrival dinner was 
 served. I sat at my old place at the table, and secretly 
 admired the skill with which he who asked the blessing 
 imitated the language and the well-remembered intonation 
 of my father's voice. But alas! for the family — I im- 
 agined my relatives banished and languishing in prison, 
 and the old home confiscated by the government! 
 
X 
 
 Though my few hours at home failed to prove that I did 
 not belong in an institution, it served one good purpose. Cer- 
 tain relatives who had objected to my commitment now 
 agreed that there was no alternative, and, accordingly, my 
 eldest brother caused himself to be appointed my conservator. 
 He had long favored taking such action, but other relatives 
 counseled delay. They had been deterred by that inbred 
 dread of seeing a member of the family branded by law as a 
 mental incompetent, and, to a degree, stigmatized by an im- 
 questionably mistaken public opinion. The very thought was 
 repugnant; and a mistaken sense of duty — and perhaps a 
 suggestion of pride — led them to wish me out of such an 
 institution as long as possible. 
 
 Though at the time I dreaded commitment, it was the best 
 possible thing that could befall me; and I wish to emphasize 
 this fact in order that others, situated as my relatives were, 
 may have fewer misgivings. In most instances an insane 
 person is more likely to recover in a reputable institution 
 than he is if kept in touch with the world he knew while 
 sane. To be in the world and not of it is exasperating. The 
 constant friction that is inevitable under such conditions — 
 conditions such as existed for me in the home of my attend- 
 ant — can only aggravate the mental disturbance. Par- 
 ticularly is this true of those laboring under delusions of 
 persecution. Such delusions multiply with the complexity of 
 the life led. It is the even-going routine of institutional life 
 which affords the indispensable quieting effect — provided 
 
 6i 
 
62 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 that routine is well ordered, and not defeated by annoyances 
 imposed by ignorant or indifferent doctors and attendants. 
 
 My commitment occurred on June nth, 1901. The insti- 
 tution to which I was committed is considered one of the 
 best of its kind in the country; and the conditions there are 
 to be found in a greater or less degree in most other such 
 institutions in every State in the Union. For that reason it is 
 not necessary that I name it. I am not writing an expose of 
 the three hospitals in which I was confined. The evils 
 they represent are almost universal, and I do not propose to 
 becloud the main issue, which is the need of a movement 
 to eliminate these evils everywhere. For this reason and, 
 in some instances, for charity's sake, I suppress the names 
 of those who were in authority over me. 
 
 The institution itself was well situated. Though the 
 view was a restricted one, a vast expanse of lawn, surrounded 
 by groups of trees — patches of primeval forest — gave the 
 place an atmosphere which was not without its remedial 
 value. My quarters were comfortable, and, after a little, 
 I adjusted myself to my new environment. A description 
 of the daily routine will, I believe, serve to dispel many mis- 
 taken ideas regarding the life led by the inmates of such 
 institutions. 
 
 Breakfast was served about 7.30 a.m., though the hour 
 varied somewhat according to the season — earlier in sum- 
 mer and later in winter. In the spring, summer, and fall, 
 when the weather was favorable, those able to go out of doors 
 were taken after breakfast for walks within the grounds, or 
 were allowed to roam about the lawn and sit under the trees, 
 where they remained for an hour or two at a time. Dinner 
 was usually served shortly after noon, and then the active 
 patients were again taken out of doors, where they remained 
 an hour or two doing much as they pleased, but under the 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 63 
 
 eyes of attendants. About half -past three they returned to 
 their respective wards, there to remain until the next day — 
 except those who cared to attend the religious service which 
 was held almost every afternoon in an endowed chapel. 
 Few such institutions in this country have religious services 
 every day. But Dr. Theodore B. Hyslop, Superintendent 
 of Bethlem Royal Hospital (London, England), a specialist 
 in neurology and in the treatment of mental diseases, goes 
 so far as to say: "Of all hygienic measures to counteract 
 disturbed sleep, depressed spirits, and all the miserable 
 sequels of a distressed mind I would undoubtedly give the 
 first place to the simple habit of prayer." 
 
 Preachers of the gospel should appreciate this fact, and be 
 oftener seen working among the insane. 
 
 In all institutions those confined in different wards go to 
 bed at different hours. The patients in the best wards re- 
 tire at nine or ten o'clock. Those in the wards where more 
 troublesome cases are treated go to bed usually at seven or 
 eight o'clock. I, while undergoing treatment, have retired 
 at all hours, so that I am in the better position to describe 
 the mysteries of what is, in a way, one of the greatest secret 
 societies in the world. 
 
 I soon became accustomed to the rather agreeable rou- 
 tine, and began to enjoy life as much as a man could with the 
 cloud of death hanging over him, — for I still suffered the 
 constant dread of being removed to court, to prison, and to 
 the gallows or the electric- chair. But my living was hardly 
 life; yet, had I not been burdened with the delusions which 
 held me a prisoner of the police, and kept me a stranger to 
 my old world, I should have been able to enjoy a compara- 
 tively happy existence in spite of all. 
 
 This new feeling of comparative contentment had not 
 been brought about by any decided improvement in health. 
 
64 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 It was due directly and entirely to an environment more 
 nearly in tune with my ill-tuned mind. While surrounded 
 by sane people my mental inferiority had been pain- 
 fully apparent to me, as well as to others. Here a feeling 
 of superiority easily asserted itself, for many of my asso- 
 ciates were, to my mind, vastly inferior to myself. But this 
 stimulus did not affect me at once. For several weeks I 
 believed the institution to be peopled by detectives, feigning 
 insanity. The government was still operating the "Third 
 Degree," only on a grander scale. Nevertheless, I did soon 
 come to the conclusion that the institution was what it pro- 
 fessed to be — still cherishing the idea, however, that cer- 
 tain patients and attaches were detectives, — an idea which 
 persisted until my period of depression came to an end. 
 From June nth, 1901, when I first arrived at this hospital, to 
 August 30th, 1902, when the active and troublesome phase of 
 my illness began, I was treated with consideration by doc- 
 tors and attendants alike. Fortunately, in all hospitals for 
 the insane, patients in a passive condition are pretty likely 
 to receive kind treatment. 
 
 For a while after my arrival I again abandoned my new- 
 found reading habit. But as I became accustomed to my 
 surroundings I grew bolder and resumed my devotion 
 to the newspapers and to such books as were at hand. There 
 was a bookcase in the ward, filled with old numbers of 
 standard English periodicals ; among them : Westminster Re- 
 view, Edinburgh Review, London Quarterly, and Blackwood's. 
 There were also copies of Harper's, Scribner's and The Atlan- 
 tic Monthly, dated a generation or more before my first read- 
 ing days. Indeed, some of the reviews were over fifty years 
 old. But I had to read their heavy contents or go without 
 reading, for I would not yet ask even for a thing I desired. 
 In the room of one of the patients were thirty or forty books 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 65 
 
 belonging to him. Time and again I walked by his door and 
 cast a longing glance at those books, which at first I had not 
 the courage to ask for or to take. But during the summer, 
 about the time I was getting desperate, I finally managed to 
 summon enough courage to take books surreptitiously, and, I 
 confess, it was usually while the owner of these books was at- 
 tending the daily service in the chapel that his Hbrary became 
 a circulating one. 
 
 Though this institution, unlike most institutions, had a 
 library, presented and endowed by a person interested in 
 the work that was being done there, that library, which was 
 kept in an adjoining ward, afforded me no pleasure until I 
 had become sane enough to ask for favors. Later investi- 
 gation has convinced me that the libraries in existence 
 in hospitals for the insane are not made the most of; for it 
 frequently happens that those most desirous of reading are 
 least likely to ask for books. Instead of being kept in 
 one ward books should be distributed and re-distributed 
 throughout the several wards. The slight chance of their 
 being damaged or destroyed is more than offset by the good 
 they may do. 
 
 The contents of the books I read made perhaps more of 
 an impression on my memory than most books make on the 
 minds of normal readers. To assure myself of the fact I 
 have since re-read "The Scarlet Letter," and I recognize 
 it as an old friend. The first part of the story, however, 
 wherein Hawthorne describes his work as a Custom House 
 official and portrays his literary personality, seems to have 
 made scarcely any impression. This I attribute to my utter 
 lack of literary interest at that time in writers and their 
 methods. I then had no desire to write a book, or any 
 thought of ever doing so. Not until the day I regained my 
 reason, were my literary ambitions bom. 
 
 6 
 
66 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 Letters I looked upon with suspicion. I never read them 
 at the time they were received. I would not even open 
 them; but generally, after a week or sometimes a month, I 
 would secretly open and read them — forgeries of the 
 detectives. 
 
 I still refused to speak, and exhibited physical activity 
 only when the patients were taken out of doors. For hours 
 I would sit reading books or papers, or apparently doing 
 nothing. But my mind was in an active state and very 
 sensitive. As the event proved, everything done or said 
 within the range of my senses was making indelible impres- 
 sions, though these at the time were frequently of such a char- 
 acter that I experienced great difficulty in trying to recall 
 incidents which I thought I might find useful at the time of 
 my appearance in court. 
 
 My ankles had not regained anything like their former 
 strength. It hurt to walk. For months I continued to go 
 flat-footed. I could not sustain my weight with heels lifted 
 from the floor. In going down stairs I had to place my 
 insteps on the edge of each step, or go one step at a time, 
 like a child. Believing that the detectives were pampering 
 me into prime condition, as a butcher fattens a beast 
 for slaughter, I deliberately made myself out much weaker 
 than I really was; and not a little of my inactivity was due 
 to a desire to prolong my fairly comfortable existence, by 
 deferring as long as possible the day of trial and conspicuous 
 disgrace. 
 
 But my mode of living was not without its distressing 
 incidents. Whenever the attendants were wanted at the 
 office, an electric bell was rung. During the fourteen months 
 that I remained in this hospital in a depressed condition, 
 the bell in my ward rang several hundred times. Never 
 did it fail to send through me a mild shock of terror, for I 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 67 
 
 imagined that at last the hour had struck for my transporta- 
 tion to the scene of trial. Relatives and friends would be 
 brought to the ward — heralded, of course, by a warning 
 bell — and short interviews would be held in my room, dur- 
 ing which the visitors had to do all the talking. My eldest 
 brother, whom I shall refer to hereafter as my conservator, 
 called often. He seldom failed to use one phrase which 
 annoyed and disturbed me. 
 
 "You are looking better and getting stronger," he would 
 say. "We shall straighten you out yet." 
 
 To be "straightened out," was a phrase which had a cer- 
 tain sinister ambiguity. It might refer to the end of the 
 hangman's rope, or to a fatal electric shock. It would of 
 course be difhcult to avoid all ambiguity of speech in talking 
 to one afflicted with delusions of persecution, but such care 
 as can be exercised would contribute to the patient's peace 
 of mind. 
 
 I preferred to be let alone and the assistant physician in 
 charge of my case, after several ineffectual attempts to en- 
 gage me in conversation, humored my persistent taciturnity. 
 For over a year nothing passed between us further than an 
 occasional conventional salutation. Subsequent events have 
 led me to doubt the wisdom of this policy, and to infer that 
 had my timid confidence once been gained some of my delu- 
 sions might have been imdermined, if not talked to death. 
 As I finally seduced my Unreason into at least a semblance 
 of sanity, by supplying myself with desired proofs as to the 
 genuineness of relatives and friends, is it not reasonable to 
 suppose that similar proofs, cleverly offered by others, might 
 have produced the same result earlier? Among psychi- 
 atrists I find the opinion that it is only at an advanced stage 
 of recuperation that such an expedient would have any 
 chance of success; and that even in the event of success, the 
 
68 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 time so saved would scarcely be worth considering. Never- 
 theless, instead of assuming that delusions must correct 
 themselves — if they are ever to be corrected — physicians 
 (more scrupulously, I think, than they do) might give the 
 patient the benefit of every doubt, and exercise their skill 
 from time to time to ascertain, if nothing more, whether or 
 not he exhibits signs of returning sanity. Of course, I will 
 not presume to combat the question pathologically. I am 
 only submitting for the consideration of psychiatrists an 
 impression gained from the inside. 
 
 For one year no further attention was paid to me than to 
 see that I had three meals a day, the requisite number of 
 baths, and a sufficient amount of exercise. I was, however, 
 occasionally urged by an attendant to write a letter to some 
 relative, but that, of course, I refused to do. As I shall have 
 many hard things to say about attendants in general, I take 
 pleasure in testifying that, so long as I remained in a pas- 
 sive condition, those at this institution were kind, and at 
 times even thoughtful. But so soon as I regained, in a large 
 measure, my reason, and began to talk, diplomatic relations 
 with doctors and attendants became so strained that war 
 promptly ensued. 
 
 It was no doubt upon the gradual but sure improvement 
 in my physical condition that the doctors were relying for 
 my eventual salvation. They were not without some war- 
 rant for this. In a way I had become less suspicious, but 
 my increased confidence was due as much to an increasing 
 indifference to my fate as to an improvement in health. 
 And there were other signs of improved mental vigor. I 
 was still watchful, however, for a chance to end my life, 
 and had I not largely regained my reason as soon as I did, 
 I do not doubt that my choice of evils would have found tragic 
 expression in an overt act. 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 69 
 
 Having convinced myself that most of my associates were 
 really insane, and therefore (as I believed) disqualified as 
 competent witnesses in a court of law, I would occasionally 
 engage in conversation with a few whose evident incompe- 
 tency seemed to make them safe confidants. One, a man 
 who during his life had suffered several nervous break- 
 downs, more like acute nervous prostration than insanity, 
 took a very evident interest in me and persisted in talking to 
 me, often much against my will. His persistent inquisitive- 
 ness seemed to support his own statement that he had for- 
 merly been a successful life-insurance solicitor. He finally 
 gained my confidence to such a degree that months before I 
 finally began to talk to others I permitted myself to con- 
 verse frequently with him — but only when we were so 
 situated as to escape observation. I would talk to him on 
 almost any subject except myself. At length, however, his 
 admirable persistence overcame my reticence. During a 
 conversation held in June, 1902, he abruptly said, "Why 
 you are kept here I cannot understand. Apparently you 
 are as sane as any one. You have never made any but 
 sensible remarks to me." Now for weeks I had been waiting 
 for a chance to tell this man my very thoughts. I had come 
 to believe him a true friend who would not betray me. 
 
 "If I should tell you some things which you apparently 
 don't know, you would understand why I am held here," 
 said I. 
 
 "Well, tell me," he urged. 
 
 "Will you promise not to repeat my statements to any one 
 else?" 
 
 "I promise not to say a word." 
 
 "Well," said I, "you have seen certain persons who have 
 come here, claiming to be relatives of mine." 
 
 "Yes, and they are your relatives, aren't they?" 
 
70 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 "They look like my relatives, but they're not," was 
 my reply. 
 
 My inquisitive friend laughed aloud. "Well," said he, 
 "if you mean that, I shall have to take back what I just 
 said. You are really the craziest person I have ever met, 
 and I have met several." 
 
 "You will think differently some day," said I; for I be- 
 lieved that when my trial should occur he would appreciate 
 the significance of my statement. I did not tell him that I 
 believed these callers to be detectives; nor did I hint that I 
 thought myself in the hands of the police. 
 
 Meanwhile, during July and August, 1902, I redoubled 
 my activity in devising suicidal schemes; for I now thought 
 my physical condition satisfactory to my enemies, and was 
 sure that my trial could not be postponed beyond the next 
 opening of the courts in September. I even went so far as to 
 talk to one of the attendants, a medical student, who, during 
 the summer, worked as an attendant at the hospital. I 
 approached him artfully. First I asked him to procure 
 from the library for me "The Scarlet Letter," "The House of 
 Seven Gables," and other such books; then I talked med- 
 icine and finally asked him to lend me a text-book on anat- 
 omy which I knew he had in his possession. This he did, 
 cautioning me not to let any one know that he had done so. 
 The book once secured, I lost no time in examining that 
 part which described the heart, its functions, and especially 
 its exact location in the body. I had scarcely begun to read 
 when the attendant returned and took the book from 
 me, offering as his reason that, as an attendant, he had no 
 right to give me a medical work. I have often wondered 
 since whether this was an intervention of Providence. 
 
 As is usual in institutions for the insane, all knives, forks, 
 and other articles, which might be used by a patient for 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 71 
 
 an insane purpose, were counted by the attendants after 
 each meal. This I knew, and it had a deterrent effect. I 
 dared not take one. Though I might at any time during 
 the night have hanged myself, that method did not appeal 
 to me, and I kept it in mind only as a last resort. To get 
 possession of some sharp dagger-like instrument which I 
 could plunge into my heart at a moment's notice — this was 
 my consuming desire. With such a weapon I felt that I 
 could, when the crisis came, rob the detectives of their vic- 
 tory. During the summer months an employee spent his 
 entire time driving a large lawn-mower over the grounds. 
 This when not in use was often left outdoors. Upon it was 
 a square wooden box, containing certain necessary tools, 
 among them a sharp, spike-like instrument, used to clean the 
 oil-holes when they had become clogged. This bit of steel 
 was five or six inches long, and was shaped like a pencil. 
 For at least three months prior to the moment of my restored 
 reason I seldom went out of doors that I did not go with the 
 intention of purloining that steel spike. I intended then to 
 keep it in my room against the day of my anticipated trans- 
 fer to jail. 
 
 It was now that my delusions protected me from the very 
 fate they had induced me to court. For had I not believed 
 that the eye of a detective was on me every moment, I could 
 have taken that spike a score of times. Often when it was 
 not in use I walked to the lawn-mower and even laid my 
 hand upon the tool-box. But I dared not open it. My 
 feelings were much like those of Pandora about a certain 
 other box. In my case, however, the box upon which I 
 looked with longing had Hope without, and not within. 
 Instinctively, perhaps, I realized this, for I did not lift 
 the lid. 
 
 One day, as the patients were returning to their wards, I 
 
72 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 saw, lying directly in my path (I could even now point out 
 the spot), the coveted weapon. Never have I seen anything 
 that I more desired. To have stooped and picked it up 
 without detection would have been easy; and had I known, 
 as I know now, that it had been carelessly dropped, nothing 
 could have prevented me from doing so and perhaps using 
 it with fatal effect. But I believed it had been placed there 
 deliberately and as a test, by those who had divined my 
 suicidal purpose. The eye of the imagined detective, which, 
 I am inclined to believe, and like to believe, was the eye of 
 the real God, was upon me; and though I stepped directly 
 over it I did not pick up that thing of death. 
 
 (^ 
 
XI 
 
 When I had decided that my chance for securing the little 
 stiletto-spike was very uncertain, I a^ once busied myself 
 with plans which were designed to bring about my death 
 by drowning. There was in the ward a large bath-tub. Ac- 
 cess to it could be had at any time, except between the hour 
 of nine at night (when the patients were locked in their 
 rooms) and the following morning. How to make it acces- 
 sible in those dark hours was the problem which confronted 
 me. The attendant in charge was supposed to see that 
 each patient was in his room when the door was locked. As 
 it rarely happened that the patients were not in their rooms at 
 the appointed time, the attendants naturally grew careless, and 
 often locked a door without looking in. The "good night" 
 of the attendant, a salutation usually devoid of sentiment, 
 might, or might not, elicit a response, and the absence of a 
 response would not tend to arouse suspicion — especially 
 in a case like mine, for I would sometimes say "good night," 
 but more often not. 
 
 My simple and easy plan was to hide behind a piece of 
 furniture in the corridor and there remain until the attend- 
 ant had locked the doors of the rooms and retired. I 
 had even advanced so far in my plan as to select a con- 
 venient place. This was a nook within twenty feet of my 
 own room. Should the attendant, when about to lock the 
 door, discover my absence, I should, of course, immediately 
 reveal my hiding-place by leaving it; and it would have been 
 an easy matter to convince him that I had done the thing as a 
 
 73 
 
74 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 test of his own vigilance. On the other hand, if I escaped 
 discovery. I should then have nine hours at my disposal 
 with little fear of interruption. True, the night-watch passed 
 through the ward once every hour. But death by drown- 
 ing requires a time no longer than that necessary to boil an 
 egg. I had even calculated how long it would take to fill 
 the tub with water. To make sure of a fatal result, I had 
 secreted a piece of wire which I intended so to use that my 
 head, once imder water, could by no possibility be raised 
 above the surface in the inevitable struggle. 
 
 I have said that I did not desire death; nor did I. Had 
 the supposed detectives been able to convince me that they 
 would keep their word, I would willingly have signed an 
 agreement stipulating on my side that I must live the rest 
 of my life as an inmate of an asylum, and on theirs that I 
 should never undergo a trial for crime. 
 
 Fortunately during these dismal preparations I had not 
 lost interest in other schemes which probably saved my life. 
 In these the fellow-patient who had won my confidence 
 played the role of my ov^^n private detective. That he and 
 I could defeat the combined forces of the Nation hardly 
 seemed probable, but the seeming impossibihty of so doing 
 only lent zest to the undertaking. My friend, who, of course, 
 did not reahze that he was engaged in combat with the Secret 
 Service, was allowed to go where he pleased within the limits 
 of the city where the hospital was situated. Accordingly 
 I determined to enlist his services. It was during July 
 that, at my suggestion, he tried to procure copies of certain 
 New Haven newspapers, of the date of my attempted suicide 
 and the several dates immediately following. My purpose 
 was to learn what motive had been ascribed to my suicidal 
 attempt. I felt sure that they would contain at least hints 
 as to the nature of the criminal charges against me. But this 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 75 
 
 purpose I did not disclose to my friend. In due time he re- 
 ported that no copies for the given dates were to be had. 
 So that quest proved fruitless, and I attributed the failure to 
 the superior strategy of the enemy. 
 
 Meanwhile, my friend had not desisted from his attempt 
 to convince me that my apparent relatives were not spurious ; 
 and one day I said to him: "If my relatives still live in New 
 Haven, their addresses must be in the latest New Haven 
 Directory. Here is a hst containing the names and former 
 addresses of my father, brother, and uncle. These were 
 their addresses in 1900. To-morrow, when you go out, 
 please see whether they appear in the New Haven Directory 
 for 1902, These persons who present themselves to me as 
 relatives pretend to live at these addresses. If they speak 
 the truth, the 1902 Directory will corroborate them. I will 
 then have hope that a letter sent to any one of these ad- 
 dresses will reach relatives, — and surely some attention 
 will be paid to it." 
 
 The next day, which was August 27th, my own good detec- 
 tive went to a local pubHshing house where directories of 
 the several important cities throughout the country may be 
 consulted. Shortly after he went out upon this errand, my 
 conservator appeared. He found me walking about the lawn. 
 At his suggestion we sat down. Bold in the assurance that 
 I could kill myself before the crisis came, I talked with him 
 freely, replying to many of his questions and asking several. 
 My conservator, who had never fully understood that I de- 
 nied his identity, commented with manifest pleasure on my 
 new-found readiness to talk. He would have been less 
 pleased, however, had he been able to read my mind. 
 
 Shortly after my conservator's departure my fellow-patient 
 returned and informed me that the latest New Haven direc- 
 tory contained the names and addresses I had given him. 
 
76 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 This information, though it did not prove that my morn- 
 ing caller was no detective, did convince me that my real 
 brother still lived where he did when I left New Haven, 
 two years earlier. At this time my physical senses were less 
 perverted than they had been previously, and in that fact 
 lay my salvation. Now that my senses no longer lied to me, 
 my returning reason enabled me to construct the ingenious 
 scheme which, I believe, saved my life ; for, had I not largely 
 regained my reason when I did, I am incHned to believe that 
 my distraught mind would have destroyed itself and me, be- 
 fore it could have been restored by the slow process of re- 
 turning health. 
 
 A few hours after my private detective had given me the 
 information I so much desired, I wrote my first letter in 
 twenty-six months. As letters go it is in a class by 
 itself. I dared not ask for ink, so I wrote with a lead pencil. 
 Another fellow-patient in whom I had confidence, at my 
 request, addressed the envelope; but he was not in the secret 
 of its contents. This was an added precaution, for I thought 
 the Secret Service men might have found out that I had a 
 detective of my own and would confiscate any letters ad- 
 dressed by him or me. The next morning, my "detective" 
 mailed the letter. That letter I still have, and I treasure 
 it as any innocent man condemned to death would treasure 
 a pardon or reprieve. It should convince the reader that 
 sometimes an insane man can think and write clearly. An 
 exact copy of this — the most important letter I ever expect 
 to be called upon to write — is here appended : 
 
 T-. ^ August 29, 1902. 
 
 Dear George: 
 
 On last Wednesday morning a person who claimed to be George M. Beers 
 of New Haven, Ct., clerk in the Director's Office of the Shefl&eld Scientific 
 School and a brother of mine, called to see me. 
 
 Perhaps what he said was true, but after the events of the last two years 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 77 
 
 I find myself inclined to doubt the truth of everything that is told me. He 
 said that he would come and see me again sometime next week, and I am 
 sending you this letter in order that you may bring it with you as a passport, 
 provided you are the one who was here on Wednesday. 
 
 If you did not call as stated please say nothing about this letter to any- 
 one, and when your double arrives, I'll tell him what I think of him. Would 
 send other messages, but while things seem as they do at present it is im- 
 possible. Have had some one else address envelope for fear letter might be 
 
 held up on the way. ,^ 
 
 ^ Yours, 
 
 Clifford W. B. 
 
 Though I felt reasonably confident that this message 
 would reach my brother, I was by no means certain. I was 
 sure, however, that, should he receive it, under no circum- 
 stances would he turn it over to any one hostile to myself. 
 When I wrote the words: "Dear George," my feeling was 
 much like that of a child who sends a letter to Santa Claus 
 after his faith in the existence of Santa Claus has been shaken. 
 Like the sceptical child, I felt there was nothing to lose, but 
 everything to gain. "Yours" fully expressed such affection 
 for relatives as I was then capable of, — for the belief that 
 I had disgraced, perhaps destroyed, my family prompted 
 me to forbear to use the family name in the signature. 
 
 The thought that I might soon get in touch with my old 
 world did not excite me. I had not much faith any- 
 way that I was to re-establish former relations, and what 
 little faith I had was almost dissipated on the morning of 
 August 30th, 1902, when a short message, written on a 
 slip of paper, reached me by the hand of an attendant. 
 It informed me that my brother would call that afternoon. 
 I thought it a lie. I felt that any brother of mine would 
 have taken the pains to send a letter in reply to the first I 
 had written him in over two years. The thought that there 
 had not been time for him to do so and that this message 
 must have arrived by telephone did not then occur to me. 
 
78 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 What I believed was that my own letter had been confis- 
 cated. I asked one of the doctors to swear on his honor 
 that it really was my own brother who was coming to see 
 me. He did so swear, and this may have diminished my 
 first doubt somewhat, but not much, for abnormal suspicion 
 robbed all men in my sight of whatever honor they may 
 have had. 
 
 The thirtieth of the month was what might he called a 
 perfect June day in August. In the afternoon, as usual, the 
 patients were taken out of doors, I among them. I wan- 
 dered about the lawn, and cast frequent and expectant 
 glances toward the gate, through which I believed my antici- 
 pated visitor would soon pass. In less than an hour he 
 appeared. I first caught sight of him about three hundred 
 feet away, and, impelled more by curiosity than hope, I 
 advanced to meet him. "I wonder what the lie will be this 
 time," was the gist of my thoughts. 
 
 The person approaching me was indeed the counterpart of 
 my brother as I remembered him. Yet he was no more my 
 brother than he had been at any time during the preceding 
 two years. He was still a detective. Such he was when I 
 shook his hand. As soon as that ceremony was over he 
 drew forth a leather pocket-book. I instantly recognized 
 it as one I myself had carried for several years prior to 
 the time I was taken ill in 1900. It was from this that he 
 took my recent letter. 
 
 "Here's my passport," said he. 
 
 "It's a good thing you brought it," said I coolly, as I 
 glanced at it and again shook his hand — this time the hand 
 of my own brother. 
 
 "Don't you want to read it?" he asked. 
 
 "There is no need of that," was my reply. "I am con- 
 vinced." 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 79 
 
 After my long journey of exploration in the jungle of a 
 tangled imagination, a journey which finally ended in my 
 finding the person for whom I had long searched, my be- 
 havior differed very Httle from that of a great explorer who, 
 after a perilous trip through real jungles, found the man he 
 sought and, coolly, grasping his hand, greeted him with a 
 now historic remark. 
 
 This was the culminating moment of my gradual re-ad- 
 justment. The molecules of my mental magnet had at last 
 turned in the direction of right thinking. In a word, 
 my mind had found itself. That this apparently instanta- 
 neous return to reason was for me an epoch-making event, 
 no one will deny. I may be pardoned, then, if I dwell 
 upon it at length. The dividing line between sanity and in- 
 sanity has ever been a topic for discussion. In my own case 
 I believe that I can safely statejhatjdi^e elapse^ time between 
 a condition of absolute insanity and comparative sanity was 
 scarcely appreciable. This statement squares with the 
 psychological fact that it takes about one tenth of a 
 second for the mind to form a perception. The very instant 
 I caught sight of my letter in the hands of my brother, all 
 was changed. The thousands of false impressions recorded 
 during the seven hundred and ninety-eight days of my de- 
 pressed state seemed at once to correct themselves. Un- 
 truth became Truth. My old world was again mine. •, 
 That gigantic web woven by an indefatigable yet tired 
 imagination, I immediately recognized as a snare of delu- C 
 sions, in which I had all but hopelessly entangled myself. \ 
 That the Gordian loiot of mental torture should be cut 
 and swept away by the mere glance of a willing eye is 
 like a miracle; but not a few insane persons recover their 
 reason — or, more scientifically expressed, reach the culmi- 
 nation of their hitherto invisible process of re-adjustment — 
 
8o A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 in what might be termed a flash of divine enlightenment, 
 though very few have documentary evidence to prove their 
 instantaneous return to Hfe. 
 
 My memory during this phase might be Hkened to a photo- 
 graphic film, seven hundred and ninety-eight days long. 
 Each impression seems to have been made in a negative way 
 and then, in a fraction of a second, miraculously developed 
 and made positive. Of hundreds of impressions made dur- 
 ing that depressed period I had not before been conscious, 
 but from the moment I regained my reason they have stood 
 out vividly. Not only so, but all impressions gathered during 
 earher years have done Hkewise. Since that August 30th, 
 which I regard as my second birthday (my first was on the 
 30th of another month) my mind has exhibited quahties 
 which, prior to that time, were so latent as to be scarcely 
 distinguishable. As a result, I find myself able to do 
 desirable things I never before dreamed of doing — the 
 writing of this book is one of them. 
 
 Yet had I failed to convince myself on August 30th, when 
 my brother came to see me, that he was no spy, I am almost 
 sure that I should have compassed my own destruction within 
 the following ten days, for the next month, I believed, was the 
 fatal one of opening courts. It was death by drowning that 
 impended. And I find it peculiarly appropriate to Hken my 
 salvation itself to a prolonged process of drowning. Thou- 
 sands of minutes of the seven hundred and ninety-eight days 
 — and there were over one milHon of them, during which I 
 had been borne down by intolerably burdensome delusions — 
 were, I imagine, much Hke the last minutes of consciousness 
 experienced by persons who drown. Many who have 
 narrowly escaped this fate can testify to the vividness 
 with which good and bad impressions of their entire life 
 rush through their confused minds, and hold them in a grip 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 8l 
 
 of terror until a kind unconsciousness envelopes them. Such 
 had been many of my moments. But the only unconscious- 
 ness which had deadened my sensibilities during these two 
 despondent years was the semi-unconsciousness of sleep it- 
 self. Though I slept well most of the time, mine was seldom 
 a dreamless sleep. Many of my dreams were, if anything, 
 harder to bear than my delusions of the day, for what little 
 reason I had was absolutely suspended in sleep. Almost 
 every night my brain was at battledore and shuttlecock with 
 weird thoughts. And if not all my dreams were terrifying, 
 this fact seemed to be only because a perverted and perverse 
 Reason, in order that its possessor might not lose the capac- 
 ity for suffering, knew how to keep Hope alive with visions 
 which suppHed the contrast necessary for keen appreciation. 
 ^ No man can be bom again, but I believe I came as near 
 ' it as ever a man did. To leave behind what was in reality a 
 Hell, and, in less than one second, have this good green earth 
 revealed in more glory than most men ever see it in, was a 
 compensating privilege which makes me feel that my suffer- 
 ing was distinctly worth while. This statement will no 
 doubt seem extravagant to those who dread insanity; but 
 those who appreciate what a privilege it is to be placed in a 
 position to do great good, will, I am sure, credit me with 
 sincerity. For have I not before me a field of philanthropy 
 in which to work — a field which, even in this altruistic 
 age, is practically untouched ? 
 
 I have already described the peculiar sensation which 
 assailed me when, in June, 1900, I lost my reason. At that 
 time my brain felt as though pricked by a milHon needles at 
 white heat. On this August 30th, 1902, shortly after regain- 
 ing my reason, I had another most distinct sensation in the 
 brain. It started under my brow and gradually spread until 
 the entire surface was affected. The throes of a dying Rea- 
 7 
 
82 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 son had been torture. The sensations felt as my dead Reason 
 was reborn were delightful. It seemed as though the re- 
 freshing breath of some kind Goddess of Wisdom were being 
 gently blown against the surface of my brain. It was a 
 sensation not unlike that produced by a menthol pencil 
 rubbed ever so gently over a fevered brow. So delicate, so 
 crisp and exhilarating was it that words fail me in my at- 
 tempt to describe it. Doctors have it, in theory at least, 
 that my depressed condition had been caused by a defective 
 circulation of blood in the brain. The elated phase of my 
 illness, which immediately followed, was, on the other hand, 
 due to an over-stimulation of the brain-cells, caused by an 
 intoxicating supply of blood vouchsafed by an abnormally 
 joyous heart. Few, if any experiences, can be more dehghtful 
 than that which followed. If the exaltation produced by 
 some drugs is anything Hke it, I can easily understand how 
 and why certain pernicious habits enslave those who contract 
 them. For me, however, this experience was liberation, 
 not enslavement. 
 
XII 
 
 After two years of silence I found it no easy matter to 
 carry on with my brother a sustained conversation. So weak 
 were my vocal cords from lack of use that every few minutes 
 I must either rest or whisper. And, upon trying, I found 
 myself unable to whistle, notwithstanding the popular belief, 
 drawn from vague memories of small-boyhood, that this art 
 is instinctive. Those who all their lives have talked at 
 will cannot possibly appreciate the enjoyment I found in 
 using my regained power of speech. Reluctantly I returned 
 to the ward; but not until my brother had left for home, 
 laden with so much of my conversation that it took most of 
 his leisure for the next two days to tell the family what I 
 had said in two hours. 
 
 During the first few hours I seemed virtually normal. 
 I had none of the delusions which had previously oppressed 
 me; nor had I yet developed any of the expansive ideas, or 
 delusions of grandeur, which soon began to crowd in upon 
 me. So normal did I appear while talking to my brother 
 that he thought I should be able to return home in a few 
 weeks; and, needless to say, I agreed with him. But the 
 pendulum, as it were, had swung too far. The human 
 brain is too complex a mechanism to admit of any such 
 complete re-adjustment in an instant. It is said to be com- 
 posed of several billion cells; and, that fact granted, it seems 
 safe to say that every day, perhaps every hour, hundreds of 
 thousands of those within my skull were now being brought 
 
 83 
 
84 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 into a state of renewed activity. Comparatively sane and able 
 to recognize the important truths of life, I was yet insane as 
 to many of its practical details. Judgment being King of 
 the Realm of Thought, it was not surprising that my judg- 
 ment faUed often to decide correctly the many questions 
 presented to it by its abnormally communicative subjects. 
 At first I seemed to live a second childhood. I did with 
 delight many things which I had first learned to do as a 
 child — the more so as it had been necessary for me to 
 learn again how to eat and walk, and now how to talk. I 
 had much lost time to make up; and, for a while, my sole 
 ambition seemed to be to utter as many thousand words per 
 diem as possible. My fellow-patients who for fourteen 
 months had seen me walk about in silence — a silence so 
 profound and inexorable that I would seldom heed their 
 friendly salutations — were naturally surprised to see me 
 in my new mood of unrestrained loquacity and irrepres- 
 sible good-humor. In short, I had come into that abnor- 
 mal condition which is known to psychiatrists as " elation." 
 For several weeks I believe I did not sleep more than two 
 or three hours of the twenty-four, each day. Such was my 
 state of elation, however, that all signs of fatigue were en- 
 tirely absent; and the sustained and abnormal mental and 
 physical activity, in which I then indulged, has left on my 
 memory no other than a series of very pleasant impressions. 
 Though based on fancy the delights of madness are real. 
 Few, if any, sane persons would care to test the matter at so 
 great a price; but those familiar with the "Letters of Charles 
 Lamb," must know that Lamb himself, at one time during 
 his early manhood, underwent treatment for mental dis- 
 ease. In a letter to Coleridge, dated June lo, 1796, he says: 
 "At some future time I will amuse you with an account, 
 as full as my memory will permit, of the strange turns my 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 85 
 
 frenzy took. I look back upon it at times with a gloomy kind 
 of envy; for, while it lasted, I had many, many hours of pure 
 happiness. Dream not, Coleridge, of having tasted all the 
 grandeur and wildness of Fancy till you have gone mad! 
 All now seems to me vapid, comparatively so!" 
 
 As for me, the very first night vague and vast humanita- 
 rian projects began joyously to shape themselves in my mind. 
 My garden of thoughts seemed filled with flowers which 
 might properly be likened to the quick-blowing, night-bloom- 
 ing cereus — that Delusion of Grandeur of all flowering plants 
 that thinks itself prodigal enough if it but unmask its beauty 
 to the moon! Few of my bold fancies, however, were of so 
 fugitive and chaste a splendor. 
 
 The religious instinct is found in primitive man. It is 
 not strange, therefore, that at this time the religious side 
 of my nature was the first to display compeUing activity. 
 Whether or not this was due to my rescue from a living death, 
 and my immediate appreciation of God's goodness both to 
 me and to those faithful relatives who had done all the pray- 
 ing during the preceding two years — this I cannot say. 
 But the fact stands out, that, whereas I had, while in the 
 depressed state, attached a sinister significance to every- 
 thing done or said in my presence, I now interpreted the 
 most trifling incidents as messages from God. The day 
 after this transition I attended church. It was the 
 first service in over two years which I had not attended 
 against my will. The reading of a psalm — the 45 th — 
 made a lasting impression upon me, and the interpretation 
 which I placed upon it furnishes the key to my attitude 
 during the first weeks of elation. It seemed to me a direct 
 message from Heaven. 
 
 The minister began: "My heart is inditing a good matter: 
 I speak of the things which I have made touching the King : 
 
86 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 my tongue is the pen of a ready writer." — Whose heart but 
 mine? And the things indited — what were they but the 
 humanitarian projects which had blossomed in my garden 
 of thoughts over night? When, a few days later, I found 
 myself writing very long letters with unwonted facility, I 
 became convinced that my tongue was to prove itself "the 
 pen of a ready writer." Indeed, to these prophetic words 
 I trace the inception of an irresistible desire, of which this 
 book is the first fruit. / 
 
 "Thou art fairer than the children of men: grace is poured 
 into thy lips:" was the verse next read, to which the minister 
 responded, "Therefore God hath blessed thee for ever." — 
 "Surely," thought I, "I. have been selected as the instru- 
 ment wherewith great reforms shall be effected." (All is 
 grist that comes to the mill of a mind in elation, — then even 
 divine encomiums seem not undeserved.) 
 
 "Gird thy sword upon thy thigh, O most mighty, with 
 thy glory and thy majesty," — a command to fight. "And 
 in thy majesty ride prosperously because of truth and meek- 
 ness and righteousness;" repHed the minister. "And thy 
 right hand shall teach thee terrible things," read I. That 
 I could speak the truth, I knew. "Meekness" I could not 
 associate with myself, except that during the preceding 
 two years I had suffered many indignities without open re- 
 sentment. That my right hand with a pen should teach me 
 terrible things — how to fight for reform — I firmly believed. 
 
 " Thine arrows are sharp in the heart of the King's enemies, 
 whereby the people fall under thee," quoth the minister. 
 Yes, my tongue could be as sharp as an arrow, and I should 
 be able to stand up against those who should stand in 
 the way of reform. Again: "Thou lovest righteousness, 
 and hatest wickedness. — Therefore God, thy God, hath 
 anointed thee with the oil of gladness above thy fellows." 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 87 
 
 The first sentence I did not apply to myself; but being then, 
 as I supposed, a man restored to himself, it was easy to feel 
 that I had been anointed with the oil of gladness above my 
 fellows. "Oil of gladness" is, in truth, an apt phrase 
 wherewith to describe "elation." 
 
 The last two verses of the psalm corroborated the mes- 
 sages found in the preceding verses: "I will make thy name 
 to be remembered in all generations:" — thus the minister. 
 "Therefore shall the people praise thee for ever and ever," 
 was the response I read. That spelled immortal fame 
 for me, but only on condition that I should carry to a success- 
 ful conclusion the mission of reform — an obligation placed 
 upon me by God when He restored my reason. 
 
 I know of no better v/ay to convey to the reader my 
 state of mind during these first weeks of elation than to 
 confess — if confession it is — that when I set out upon a 
 career of reform I was impelled to do so by motives in 
 part like those which seem to have possessed Don Quixote 
 when he, madman that he was, set forth, as Cervantes 
 says, with the intention "of righting every kind of wrong, 
 and exposing himself to peril and danger, from which in 
 the issue he would obtain eternal renown and fame." The 
 quoted passage, first read by me while preparing for publi- 
 cation the printed proof of my manuscript, embodies the 
 very idea I had expressed months earher, while writing the 
 paragraph which immediately precedes this one. In liken- 
 ing myself to Cerv^antes' mad hero my purpose is quite 
 other than to push myself within the charmed circle of the 
 chivalrous. What I wish to do is to make plain that one 
 abnormally elated may be swayed irresistibly by his best 
 instincts, and that while under the spell of an exaltation, 
 idealistic in degree, he may not only be willing, but eager 
 to assume risks and endure hardships which under normal 
 
88 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 conditions he would assume reluctantly, if at all. In jus- 
 tice to myself, however, and lest I should do "the cause" 
 an injury, I feel privileged to remark that my plans for 
 reform have never assumed Quixotic, and therefore im- 
 practicable, proportions. At no time have I gone a-tilting 
 at windmills. A pen rather than a lance has been my 
 weapon of offense and defense; for with its point I have 
 felt sure that I should one day prick the civic conscience 
 into a compassionate activity, and thus bring into a neg- 
 lected field earnest men and women who should act as 
 champions for those afflicted thousands least able to fight 
 for themselves. 
 
XIII 
 
 After being without relatives and friends for over two 
 years I naturally lost no time in trying again to get in touch 
 with them; — though I did heed my conservator's request 
 that I first give him two or three days in which to acquaint 
 certain persons with the new turn my affairs had taken. 
 
 During the latter part of that first week I wrote many 
 letters, so many, indeed, that I soon exhausted a liberal 
 supply of stationery. This had been placed at my 
 disposal at the suggestion of my conservator, who had 
 wisely arranged that I should have whatever I wanted, if 
 expedient. It was now at my own suggestion that the super- 
 visor gave me large sheets of manila wrapping paper. These 
 I proceeded to cut into strips a foot wide. One such strip, 
 four feet long, would suffice for a mere billet-doux; but a 
 real letter usually required several such strips pasted to- 
 gether. More than once letters twenty or thirty feet long were 
 written; and on one occasion the accumulation of two or 
 three days of excessive productivity, when spread upon the 
 floor, reached from one end of the corridor to the other — a 
 distance of about one hundred feet. My output per hour 
 was something Hke twelve feet with an average of one hun- 
 dred and fifty words to the foot. Under the pressure of 
 elation one takes pride in doing everything in record time. 
 Despite my speed, however, my letters were not incoherent. 
 They were simply digressive, which was to be expected, as 
 elation befogs one's "goal idea." Though these epistolary 
 monstrosities were launched, few reached their intended 
 
 89 
 
90 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 addressees, for my conservator had wisely ordered that my 
 literary output be sent in bulk to him. This interference 
 was exasperating, but later I reahzed that my brother had 
 done me a great favor when he interposed his judgment 
 between my red-hot mentahty and the cool minds of the 
 work-a-day world. Yet, this interference with what I 
 deemed my rights proved to be the first step in the general 
 overruling of them by tactless attendants and, in particular, 
 by a certain assistant physician. 
 
 All my life I have exhibited more than the average desire 
 to superintend; and when a man is so constituted that he 
 knows — or thinks he knows — what he wants to do at any 
 present or future time, it is quite natural that he should give 
 more advice than he is willing to take. In my elated con- 
 dition I had an excess of questionable executive ability; and 
 in order to decrease this executive pressure I proceeded to 
 assume entire charge of that portion of the hospital in which 
 I happened at the moment to be confined. What I even- 
 tually issued as imperative orders, at first were often pre- 
 sented as suggestions. But my statements were usually 
 requests — my requests, demands; and, if my suggestions 
 were not accorded a respectful hearing, and my demands 
 acted on at once, I invariably substituted vituperative ulti- 
 matums. These were double-edged, and involved me in 
 trouble quite as often as they gained the ends I had in view. 
 
 The assistant physician in charge of my case, realizing 
 that he could not grant all of my requests, unwisely decided 
 to deny most of them. Had he been tactful he could have 
 taken the same stand without arousing my animosity. As 
 it was, he treated me with a contemptuous sort of indiffer- 
 ence which finally developed into spite, and led to much 
 trouble for us both. During the two wild months that 
 followed, the superintendent and the steward could induce 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 91 
 
 me to do almost anything by simply requesting it. If two 
 men out of three could control me easily during such a period 
 of mental excitement, is it not reasonable to suppose that 
 the third man, the assistant physician, could likewise have 
 controlled me had he treated me with due consideration? 
 It was his undisguised superciliousness that gave birth to 
 my contempt for him. In a letter written during my second 
 week of elation, I expressed the opinion that he and I should 
 get along well together. But that was before I had become 
 troublesome enough to try the man's patience. Neverthe- 
 less, it indicates that this doctor could have saved himself 
 hours of time and subsequent worry had he met my friendly 
 advances in the proper spirit. Physicians throughout the 
 country engaged in work among the insane may profitably 
 take this observation to heart, — and ''heart" I use advisedly, 
 for it is the quality of heart rather than the quantity of mind 
 that cures or makes happy the insane. 
 
 The literary impulse took such a hold on me that when I 
 first sat down to compose a letter I bluntly refused to stop 
 writing and go to bed when the attendant ordered me to do 
 so. For over one year this man had seen me mute and meek, 
 and the sudden and startling change from passive obedience 
 to uncompromising independence naturally puzzled him. 
 He threatened to drag me to my room, but strangely enough 
 decided not to do so. After half an hour's futile coaxing, 
 during which time an unwonted supply of blood was drawn 
 to his brain, that surprised organ proved its gratitude by giv- 
 ing birth to a timely and sensible idea. With an unaccus- 
 tomed resourcefulness, by cutting off the supply of light at 
 the switch, he put the entire ward in darkness. Secretly I 
 admired the stratagem, but my words on that occasion 
 
92 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 probably conveyed no idea of the approbation that lurked 
 within me. 
 
 I then went to bed, but not to sleep. The ecstasy of ela- 
 tion made each conscious hour one of rapturous happiness, 
 and my memory knows no day of brighter simlight than 
 those nights. The flood gates of thought were wide open. 
 So jealous of each other were the thoughts that they seemed 
 to stumble over one another in their mad rush to present 
 themselves to my re-enthroned ego. 
 
 I naturally craved companionship, but there were not 
 many patients to whom I cared to talk. I did, however, 
 greatly desire to engage the assistant physician in conversa- 
 tion, as he was a man of some education and familiar with 
 the history of my case. It will be recalled that the assistant 
 physician at the sanatorium subjected me to mechanical 
 restraint on the plea of protecting me against myself, and 
 later, with disgusting brutality, assaulted me. The assist- 
 ant physician who now had me in charge acted with a like 
 inconsistency. When my vocal cords were bound as with a 
 chain, by delusions, he had tried to induce me to speak. 
 Now, when I was at last willing to talk, he would scarcely 
 condescend to listen. What seemed to me his studied and 
 ill-disguised avoidance only served to whet my desire to 
 detain him whenever possible. Of course my flow of words 
 was interminable. To listen to all of it would have been 
 unbearable, — and, indeed, physically impossible for a doc- 
 tor with duties to other patients as well as to myself. Yet a 
 physician genuinely interested in his work would, as I 
 continue to think, have been glad to observe my case more 
 closely than this one did — for scientific if not humanitarian 
 reasons. That I do him no injustice I am led to believe 
 by his subsequent conduct. He was content to act as a 
 sort of monitor, to which role he added that of despot 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 93 
 
 when anything arose to interrupt the even tenor of his almost 
 automatic supervision. 
 
 It was about the second week that my investigating and 
 reformatory turn of mind became acute. The ward in 
 which I was confined was well furnished and as home-like 
 as such a place could be, though in justice to my own home 
 I must observe that the resemblance was not great. About 
 the so-called "violent" ward I had far less favorable ideas. 
 Though I had not been subjected to physical abuse dur- 
 ing the first fourteen months of my stay in this institution, 
 I had seen unnecessary and oftentimes brutal force used by 
 the attendants in the restraint of several so-called "violent" 
 patients, who, upon their arrival, had been placed in the ward 
 where I was. I had also heard convincing rumors of rough 
 treatment of irresponsible patients in the violent ward. Of 
 course the rules of the institution forbade such treatment (as 
 the rules of all such institutions invariably do) except on 
 those rare occasions when attendants are obliged to act in 
 self-defense. 
 
 Having a world of energy to dispense I determined to 
 conduct a thorough investigation of the institution. In 
 order that I might have proof that my intended action was 
 deUberate, my first move was to tell one or two feUow-patients 
 that I should soon transgress some rule in such a way as 
 to necessitate my removal to the violent ward. At first I 
 thought of breaking a few panes of glass; but my purpose 
 was accomplished in another way — and, indeed, sooner 
 than I had anticipated. My conservator, in my presence, 
 had told the assistant physician that the doctors could per- 
 mit me to telephone to him whenever they should see fit. It 
 was rather with the wish to test the unfriendly physician^ 
 than to satisfy any desire to speak with my conservator, that 
 one morning I asked permission to call the latter up on the 
 
94 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 telephone. That very morning I had received a letter from 
 him. This the doctor knew, for I showed him the letter — 
 but not its contents. It was on the letter that I based my 
 pretext, though it did not even intimate that my brother 
 wished to speak to me. The doctor, however, had no way 
 of laiowing that my statement was not true. To deny my 
 request was simply one of his ill-advised whims, and his re- 
 fusal was given with customary curtness and contempt. I 
 met his refusal in kind, and presented him with a critique 
 of his character couched in my tersest English. 
 
 Said he, "Unless you stop talking in that way I shall have 
 you transferred to the Fourth Ward." (The Fourth was 
 the "violent" ward.) 
 
 "Put me where you please," was my reply. "I'll put 
 you in the gutter before I get through with you." 
 
 With that the doctor made good his threat, and the at- 
 tendant escorted me to the violent ward — a willing, in 
 fact, eager prisoner. 
 
 The ward in which I was now placed (Saturday, Septem- 
 ber 13th, 1902) was furnished in the plainest manner. The 
 floors were of hard wood and the walls were bare. Except 
 when at meals or out of doors taking their accustomed exer- 
 cise, the patients usually sat together in one large room. In 
 this, only heavy benches were used to sit upon. Such tempt- 
 ing weapons as chairs were deemed inexpedient. It was 
 thought that in the hands of violent patients they might be- 
 come a menace to the attendants and to other patients. In 
 the dining-room, however, wooden chairs of a substantial 
 type were allowed, for patients seldom run amuck at meal 
 time. Nevertheless, one of the chairs in that room soon 
 acquired a history, part of which must be related. 
 
 As my banishment had come about on short notice I had 
 failed to provide myself with many things I could have de- 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 95 
 
 sired. My first request was that I be supplied with station- 
 ery. The attendants, acting no doubt on the doctor's orders, 
 refused to grant my request ; nor would they give me a lead 
 pencil — which, luckily, I did not need, for I happened to 
 be already possessed of one. Despite their refusal I man- 
 aged to get some scraps of paper, on which I was soon busily 
 engaged in writing notes to those in authority. Some of 
 these (as I learned later) were dehvered, but no attention 
 was paid to them. No doctor came near me until evening, 
 when the one who had banished me made his regular round 
 of inspection. When he appeared the interrupted conversa- 
 tion of the morning was resumed — that is, by me, — and 
 in a similar strain. I again asked leave to telephone my 
 conservator. I knew that on Sunday I could not make con- 
 nections, so I asked for permission to telephone on Mon- 
 day. The doctor again refused, and I, of course, told him 
 what I thought of him. 
 
 My imprisonment pleased me. I was where I most wished 
 to be, and I busied myself investigating conditions and re- 
 cording mental notes. As the assistant physician could 
 grant favors to the attendants, and had authority either to 
 retain or discharge them, they did his bidding and continued 
 to refuse most of my requests. In spite of their unfriendly 
 attitude, however, I did manage to persuade the supervisor 
 to dehver a note to the steward. In it I asked him to come 
 at once, as I wished to talk with him. The steward, whom 
 I looked upon as a friend, returned no answer and made no 
 visit. I supposed he, too, had purposely ignored me. As 
 I learned afterwards, both he and the superintendent were 
 absent, else perhaps I should have been treated in a less 
 high-handed manner by the assistant physician. 
 
 The next morning, after a renewal of my request and a 
 repeated refusal, I asked the doctor to send me the "Book 
 
96 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 of Psalms" which I had had in my former room. With this 
 request he complied, believing, perhaps, that some religion 
 would at least do me no harm. I probably read my favorite 
 psalm, the forty- fifth; but most of my time I spent writing 
 on the fly-leaves psalms of my own. And if the value of a 
 psalm is to be measured by the intensity of feeling por- 
 trayed, my compositions of that day rightly belonged beside 
 the writings of David. My psalms were indited to those 
 in authority at the hospital, and later in the day the super- 
 visor — who proved himself a friend on many occasions — 
 took the book to headquarters. 
 
 The assistant physician, who had mistaken my malevolent 
 tongue for a violent mind, had placed me in an exile which 
 precluded my attendance upon the service which was held 
 in the chapel that Sunday afternoon. Time which might 
 better have been spent in church I therefore spent in per- 
 fecting a somewhat ingenious scheme for getting in touch 
 with the steward. That evening when the doctor again ap- 
 peared I approached him in a friendly way and politely 
 repeated my request. He again refused to grant it. With 
 an air of resignation I said, "Well, as it seems useless to 
 argue the point with you, and as the notes sent to others 
 have thus far been ignored, I should like, with your kind 
 permission, to kick a hole in your damned old building and 
 to-morrow present myself to the steward in his ofl&ce." 
 
 "Kick away!" said he with a sneer. He then entered an 
 adjoining ward, where he remained for about ten minutes. 
 
 If you will draw in your mind, or on paper, a letter "L," 
 and let the upright part represent a room forty feet in length, 
 and the horizontal part one of twenty, and if you will then 
 picture me as standing in a doorway at the intersection of 
 these two lines, and the doctor behind another door at the 
 top of the perpendicular, forty feet away, you will have rep- 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 97 
 
 resented graphically the opposing armies just prior to the 
 first real assault in what proved to be a siege of seven weeks. 
 
 The moment the doctor re-entered the ward, as he had to 
 do to return to the office, I disappeared through my door — 
 into the dining-room. I then walked the length of this room 
 and picked up one of the heavy wooden chairs, selected for 
 the purpose in view while the doctor and his tame charges 
 were at church. Using the chair as a battering-ram, without 
 malice — joy being in my heart — I deliberately thrust two 
 of its legs through an upper and a lower pane of a four- 
 paned plate glass window. The only miscalculation I made 
 was in failing to place myself directly in front of that 
 window, and at a proper distance, so that I might have 
 broken every one of the four panes. This was a source of 
 regret to me, and well it might have been so, for I am loath 
 to leave a well thought-out piece of work unfinished. 
 
 The crash of shattered and falling glass startled every one 
 but me. Particularly did it frighten one patient who hap- 
 pened to be in the dining-room at the time. He fled. The 
 doctor and the attendant who were in the next room could 
 not see me, or know what the trouble was; but they lost no 
 time in finding out. Within two or three seconds they ap- 
 peared, in a state of great excitement. Like the proverbial 
 cold-blooded murderer who stands over his victim, weapon 
 in hand, calmly awaiting arrest, I stood my ground, and, 
 with a fair degree of poise, awaited the onrush of doctor and 
 attendant. These soon had me in hand. Each taking an 
 arm they marched me to my room. This consumed not 
 more than half a minute, but the time was not so short as 
 to prevent my delivering myself of one more thumb-nail 
 characterization of the doctor. . My inability to recall that 
 delineation, verbatim, entails no loss on literature, for, I 
 fear, my words approached an unprintable perfection. But 
 
98 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 one remark made as the doctor seized hold of me was apt, 
 though not impromptu. I had framed the sally several 
 hours earlier. "Well, doctor, knowing you to be a truthful 
 man, I just took you at your word," said I. 
 
 Senseless as this act of mine appears it was, like so many 
 acts of the insane, the result of logical thinking. Indeed, 
 logical thinking among the insane is common, rather than 
 rare. But the logical faculty in an insane person is usu- 
 ally of sHght advantage to him, for he reasons either from 
 a false premise, or reasoning correctly he betrays his insane 
 condition when he attempts to apply his logic to a given 
 situation. An illuminating example of an insane appli- 
 cation of sound logic is afforded by the incident I am now 
 discussing. The steward had entire charge of the building 
 and ordered all necessary repairs. It was he whom I de- 
 sired above all others to see, and I reasoned that the break- 
 ing of several dollars' worth of plate glass (for which, 
 later, to my surprise, I had to pay) would compel his atten- 
 tion on grounds of economy, if not those of the friendly 
 interest which I now believed he had abandoned. Early 
 the next morning, as I had hoped, the steward appeared. 
 He approached me in a friendly way (as had been his wont) 
 and I met him in a like manner. Said he, good-naturedly, 
 "I wish you would leave a little bit of the building." 
 
 "I will leave it all, and gladly, if you will pay some atten- 
 tion to my messages," said I. 
 
 "Had I not been out of town," said he, "I would have 
 come to see you sooner." And this honest excuse I believed 
 and accepted. 
 
 I made known to the steward the assistant physician's be- 
 havior in balking my desire to telephone my conservator. 
 He agreed to place the matter before the superintendent, 
 who had that morning returned. As proof of gratitude, 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 99 
 
 I promised to suspend hostilities until I had had a talk 
 with the superintendent. I made it quite plain, however, 
 that should he fail to keep his word, I would further facili- 
 tate the ventilation of the violent ward — not a polite thing 
 to say, but my faith in mankind was not yet wholly re- 
 stored. 
 
XIV 
 
 A FEW hours later, without having witnessed anything of 
 particular significance, except as it befeU myself, I was trans- 
 ferred to my old ward. The superintendent, who had or- 
 dered this rehabihtation, soon appeared, and he and I had a 
 satisfactory talk. He gave me to understand that he him- 
 self would look after my case, as he reaHzed that his assist- 
 ant lacked the requisite tact and judgment to cope with one 
 of my temperament — and with that, my desire to telephone 
 my conservator vanished. 
 
 Now no physician would Hke to have his wings cHpped by 
 an insane patient, even indirectly, and without doubt the 
 man's pride was piqued as his incompetence was thus made 
 patent. Thereafter when he passed through the ward he 
 and I had frequent tilts. Not only did I lose no opportunity 
 to behttle him in the presence of attendants and patients, but 
 I even created such opportunities; so that before long he 
 studiously avoided me whenever possible. But it seldom 
 was possible. My chief amusement consisted in what were 
 really one-sided interviews with him. Occasionally he was 
 so unwise as to stand his ground for several minutes, and 
 his arguments on such occasions served only to keep my tem- 
 per at a vituperative heat. If there were any epithets which 
 I failed to apply to him during the succeeding weeks of my 
 association with him they must have been coined since. I 
 am no candidate for the reputation which attaches to mean 
 tongues; but I wish to give some slight excuse for the hateful 
 way in which this man treated me when I finally fell into 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF loi 
 
 his power. The fact is that the uncanny admixture of san- 
 ity displayed by me, despite my insane condition, was some- 
 thing this doctor could not comprehend. Remarks of mine, 
 therefore, which should have been discounted or ignored, 
 rankled in his breast as the insults of a sane and free man 
 would have done. No doubt a rare degree of tact was what 
 was required for the proper and continued control of a 
 patient of my temperatment. Yet I am sure a judicious 
 granting of requests, or a helpful refusal, would have 
 contributed to an earher recovery and insured a less stormy 
 period of convalesence. For a mind as active as mine to 
 be contented for long was out of the question; yet I know 
 that the blunt and indiscriminate refusal of most of my re- 
 quests prolonged my period of mental excitement ; whereas, 
 fair treatment would have restored me to health, freedom, 
 and society several months earher. The loss of time is of 
 small moment, but the risk of irreparable injury which 
 I was forced to assume is not to be hghtly regarded. That 
 some curable cases of insanity have been made chronic 
 by just such treatment as I was fortunate enough to survive 
 is an indisputable fact, — direct proof whereof can never be 
 offered by these hapless ones, for they are now in their graves 
 — living graves, some of them. 
 
 When my period of depression gave way to one of elation, 
 an ultimate, if temporary recovery at least was assured. 
 What followed was a period of convalescence, and the doc- 
 tors knew that the return of my brain to its normal condition 
 would be only a question of time, — though they could not 
 predict whether normahty would long continue, for cycles 
 of depression and elation tend to recur in a brain that has 
 once been so affected. Surely I was entitled to the sanest 
 of treatment from the very moment the state of comparative 
 sanity manifested itself. Instead, I was soon subjected to 
 
I02 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 treatment so brutal that I might not have survived it had 
 I not been blessed with a strong constitution and a virile 
 hope. 
 
 After my return to my old ward I remained there for a 
 period of three weeks. At that time I was a very self-cen- 
 tered individual. My large and varied assortment of delu- 
 sions of grandeur made everything seem possible. There 
 were few problems I hesitated to attack. With sufficient 
 provocation I even attacked attendants — problems in 
 themselves; but such fights as I subsequently engaged in 
 were fights, either for my own rights or the rights of 
 others. Though for a while I got along fairly well with 
 the attendants and as well as could be expected with the 
 assistant physician, it soon became evident that these men 
 felt that to know me more was to love me less. Owing 
 to their lack of capacity for the work required of them, 
 I was able to cause them endless annoyance. Many 
 times a day I would instruct the attendants what to do 
 and what not to do, and tell them what I should do 
 if my requests, suggestions, or orders were not immedi- 
 ately complied with. For over one year the attendants 
 had seen me in a passive, almost speechless condition, and 
 they were, therefore, unable to understand my unwonted 
 aggressions. The threat that I would chastise them for any 
 disobedience of my orders they looked upon as a huge joke. 
 So it was, until one day I incontinently cracked that joke 
 against the head of one of them. 
 
 It began in this wise: Early in October a man was com- 
 mitted to my ward whose abnormality for the most part con- 
 sisted of an inordinate thirst for hquor. He did not appear 
 to me to be really insane, nor, according to report, had he 
 ever been so, except as thousands of free men are who have 
 poisoned their systems with strong drink. He was over 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 103 
 
 fifty years of age, well educated, traveled, refined and of an 
 artistic temperament. Congenial companions were scarce 
 where I was, and he and I were soon drawn together in 
 friendship. This man had been trapped into the institu- 
 tion by the subterfuge of relatives. As is common in such 
 cases many ''white" Kes had been resorted to in order to 
 save trouble for all concerned, — that is, all except the pa- 
 tient. To be taken vsdthout notice from one's home and 
 by a deceitful, though, under the circumstances, perhaps 
 justifiable strategy, placed in a ward with fifteen other men, 
 aU exhibiting insanity in varying degrees, is as heartbreak- 
 ing an ordeal as one can well imagine. Yet such was this 
 man's experience. A free man one day, he found himself 
 deprived of his liberty the next, and branded with what he 
 at the time considered an unbearable disgrace. In justice 
 to the relatives of this man, however, it is but fair to credit 
 them with good intentions. They simply erred through ig- 
 norance. Like ninety-nine out of a hundred persons so 
 situated, they did not know that it is not only safe, but ad- 
 visable, to tell the afflicted one the truth, and nothing but 
 the truth — after his mental condition has been passed upon 
 by competent authorities and arrangements have been made 
 for his transfer to a public or private hospital. This point 
 I have discussed with physicians who have had placed under 
 their care hundreds of insane persons. Their advice may 
 be summed up as folio V\^s: After the relatives of an insane 
 person, or of a person threatened with insanity, have reached 
 the point where commitment of the patient has become in- 
 evitable, let them act with decision, tact, and honesty. First 
 complete the arrangements for the transfer of the patient 
 to the hospital; then shortly before the transfer is to be made, 
 teU the patient frankly why such action has been taken or 
 tell him earlier, provided he be kept constantly under the 
 
I04 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 care of a nurse — this to guard against any overt act induced 
 by that innate and sometimes overpowering dread of con- 
 finement in a hospital for the insane.^ Emphasize the fact 
 that a mental disorder cannot be treated properly at home, 
 and that the patient will stand a better chance for recovery 
 in an institution than out of one, — which is true. Assure 
 the patient that he will be visited often by relatives and 
 friends, and impress upon him that his every interest will 
 be safeguarded. Then keep such promises to the letter. 
 Experience teaches that a patient who is treated honestly 
 from the beginning usually enters a hospital with compar- 
 atively slight reluctance. Further, he is quick to appreciate 
 the advantages of hospital treatment, — indeed, he frequently 
 appreciates its benefits much sooner than those who effected 
 his commitment. Thus, by a firm, tactful, honest method 
 of procedure, a patient's confidence in his relatives, friends 
 and the hospital authorities is at once established and easily 
 maintained, with incalculable benefit to all; whereas, on the 
 other hand, subterfuge and "white" lies — which are so 
 often black lies, undermine the confidence of the patient, 
 make him unhappy, delay his recovery, and seriously ham- 
 per the hospital officials in their appointed work. 
 
 Mr. Blank (as I shall call him) was completely unnerved. 
 
 ' As laws regarding commitment are not uniform throughout the coun- 
 try, it would be necessary in some States to tell the patient, earlier than is 
 here suggested, of his impending transfer to a hospital. Thus do imper- 
 fect statutes help to make worse a situation already distressing. Another 
 source of trouble is an ignorant handling of the patient, on his way to a hos- 
 pital. Trained attendants should be called in at such a time, as is required 
 by law in some States. A general adoption of this law will put a stop to the 
 humiliating, oftentimes cruel, and invariably unnecessary hand-cuffing and 
 binding of insane persons while being transferred to an institution. It 
 seems fair that nurses rather than ignorant, and perhaps unfeeling, officers 
 of the law, should be placed in charge of a person who need plead guilty to 
 no charge other than that of being in ill-health. 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 105 
 
 As he was a stranger in what I well knew was a strange 
 world I took him under my protecting and commodious 
 wing. I did all I could to cheer him up, and tried to secure 
 for him from the attendants that consideration which I 
 deemed indispensable to his well-being. Patients in his 
 condition had never been forced, when taking their exercise, 
 to walk about the grounds with the other patients. At no 
 time during the preceding fourteen months had I seen a 
 newly-committed patient forced to exercise against his will. 
 One who objected was invariably left in the ward, or his 
 refusal reported to the doctor before further steps were 
 resorted to. No sane person need stretch his imagination 
 in order to reahze how humiliating it would be for this man 
 to walk with a crowd which greatly resembled a "chain- 
 gang." Two by two, guarded by an attendant — usually 
 two attendants — these hostages of misfortune get the only 
 long walks their restricted liberty allows them. After the 
 one or two occasions when this man did walk with the gang 
 I was impressed with the not wholly unreasonable thought 
 that the physical exercise in no way compensated for the 
 mental distress which the sense of humiliation and disgrace 
 caused him to suffer. It was therefore delightfully easy for 
 me to interfere in his behalf; and when he came to my room, 
 wrought up over the prospect of another such humiliation 
 and weeping bitterly, I assured him that he should take his 
 exercise that day when I did. My first move to accomplish 
 the desired result was to approach, in a friendly way, the 
 attendant in charge, and ask him to permit my new friend to 
 walk about the grounds with me when next I went. He 
 said he would do nothing of the kind — that he intended to 
 take this man when he took the others. Said I, " For over 
 a year I have been in this ward and so have you, and I have 
 
io6 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 never yet seen a man in Mr. Blank's condition forced to go 
 out of doors." 
 
 "It makes no difference whether you have or not," said 
 the attendant, "he's going." 
 
 "Will you ask the doctor whether Mr. Blank can or can- 
 not walk about the grounds with my special attendant when 
 I go?" 
 
 "No, I won't. Furthermore, it's none of your business." 
 
 "If you resort to physical force and attempt to take Mr. 
 Blank with the other patients, you'll wish you hadn't," 
 said I, and I walked away. 
 
 At this threat the attendant scornfully laughed. To him 
 it meant nothing. He believed I could fight only with my 
 tongue, and I confess that I myself was in doubt as to my 
 power of fighting otherwise. 
 
 Returning to my room where Mr. Blank was in waiting, 
 I supported his drooping courage and again assured him 
 that he should be spared the dreaded ordeal. I ordered 
 him to go to a certain room at the farther end of the hall and 
 there await developments — so that, should there be a fight, 
 the line of battle might be a long one. He obeyed. In a 
 minute or two the attendant was headed for that room. I 
 followed closely at his heels, still threatening to attack him 
 if he dared so much as lay a finger on my friend. Though 
 I was not then aware of it, I was followed by another pa- 
 tient, a man, who, though insane, had his lucid intervals and 
 always a loyal heart. He seemed to realize that trouble 
 was impending and that very likely I should need help. 
 Once in the room the war of words was renewed, my sensi- 
 tive and unnerved friend standing by and looking anxiously 
 on. 
 
 "I warn you once more," said I, to the attendant, "if you 
 touch Mr. Blank I'll punch you so hard you'll wish you 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 107 
 
 hadn't." The attendant's answer was an immediate at- 
 tempt to eject Mr. Blank from the room by force. Nothing 
 could be more automatic than my action at that time; — 
 indeed, to this day I do not remember performing the act 
 itself. What I remember is the determination to perform 
 it and the subsequent evidence of its having been performed. 
 I remember every part of the encounter except the one in- 
 stant devoted to the execution of my predetermined coup de 
 main. At all events I had already made up my mind to do 
 a certain thing if the attendant did a certain thing. He did 
 the one and I did the other. Almost before he had touched 
 Mr. Blank's person my right fist struck him with great force 
 in, on, or about the left eye. It was then that I became the 
 object of the attendant's attention — but not his undivided 
 attention — for, as he was choking me, my unsuspected ally 
 stepped up and paid the attendant a sincere compliment by 
 likewise choking him. In the scufHe I was forced to the 
 floor. The attendant had a hand upon my throat. My 
 ward-mate had both hands upon the attendant's throat. 
 Thus was formed a chain with a weak, if not a missing, link 
 in the middle. Picture if you wiU an insane man being 
 choked by a supposedly sane man, and he in turn being 
 choked by a temporarily sane insane friend of the assaulted 
 one, and you will have Nemesis more nearly in a nutshell 
 than any mere rhetorician has yet been able to put her. 
 
 That I was well choked is proved by the fact that my 
 throat bore the crescent-shaped mark of my assailant's 
 thumb nail. And I am inclined to believe that my rescuer, 
 who was a very powerful man, made a decided impression 
 on the attendant's throat. Had not the superintendent op- 
 portunely appeared at that moment the attendant might 
 soon have lapsed into unconsciousness, for I am sure my 
 ally would never have released him until he should have 
 
lo8 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 released me. The moment the attendant with his one good 
 eye caught sight of the superintendent the scrimmage ended. 
 This was but natural, for it is an offense against the code 
 of honor generally obtaining among attendants that one 
 should so far forget himseK as to abuse patients in the pres- 
 ence of sane and competent witnesses. 
 
 The choking which I had just received only served to 
 limber my vocal cords. I told the doctor all about the pre- 
 liminary verbal skirmish and the needlessness of the fight. 
 The superintendent had graduated at Yale over fifty years 
 prior to my own graduation, and because of our common 
 interests and his consummate tact we got along well together. 
 But his friendly interest did not keep him from speaking his 
 mind upon occasions, as his words at this time proved. " You 
 don't know how it grieves me to see you — a Yale man — 
 act so like a rowdy," said he. 
 
 "If fighting for the rights of a much older man, unable to 
 protect his own interests, is the act of a rowdy, I'm quite 
 wUling to be thought one," was my reply. 
 
 Need I add that the attendant did not take Mr. Blank 
 for a walk that morning? Nor, so far as I know, was the 
 latter ever forced again to take his exercise against his will. 
 
 I have devoted much space to the foregoing incident be- 
 cause it represents fairly a majority of the assaults now 
 committed in our asylums. Had the attendant possessed 
 and exercised tact, there would have been no needless as- 
 sault committed that day. In my opinion the number of 
 fights or assaults caused by insane patients running amuck 
 is smaller, relatively, than the number of fights that would 
 naturally occur among a given number of schoolboys, full 
 of animal spirits. Nine out of ten of the hundreds of as- 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 109 
 
 saults which occur annually in our hospitals and asylums 
 are the fault of the attendants rather than of their charges. 
 It is therefore evident that the solution of the problem of 
 eliminating brutality centers in the attendants, the majority 
 of whom to-day are deplorably incompetent. In fact the 
 only attendants who are not likely at times to commit out- 
 rages are those who at heart are believers in llHon- 
 Restraint ; " — and that more of them do not use that 
 humane method of treatment is the fault of the doctors 
 in charge. 
 
XV 
 
 The superintendent now realized that I was altogether 
 too energetic a humanitarian to remain in a ward with so 
 many other patients. My actions had a demoralizing effect 
 upon them; so I was forthwith transferred to a private room, 
 one of two situated in a small one-story annex. These new 
 quarters were rather attractive, and not unlike a conven- 
 tional bachelor apartment. 
 
 As there was no one here with whom I could interfere I 
 got along without making any disturbance — that is, so 
 long as I had a certain special attendant, a man suited to my 
 temperament. He who was now placed over me understood 
 human nature and could recognize it even in an insane man. 
 He never resorted to force if argument failed to move me; 
 and trifling transgressions, which would have led to a fight 
 had he behaved hke a typical attendant, he either ignored 
 or privately reported to the doctor. This competent attend- 
 ant, whom I Hked, could and did control me with ease. As 
 it is in the world at large, so in asylums likes and dislikes 
 are usually mutual. Accordingly, for the whole period of 
 my intense excitement there were certain doctors and at- 
 tendants who could control me, and certain other doctors 
 and attendants whose presence threw me into a state border- 
 ing on rage, and frequently into passions which led to dis- 
 tressing results. To place over me those I hked, rather than 
 attempt to make me adjust my unruly personality to those 
 I hated, would have cost attention and perhaps inconven- 
 ience. But would not the reward have been worth the pains ? 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF iii 
 
 And if hospitals exist for the purpose of restoring patients 
 to health, was I not of right entitled to all such benefits ? 
 
 Good attendants seldom stay long at their work, for their 
 rewards are insignificant, if not insulting. Unfortunately 
 for me, my good attendant soon left the institution to accept 
 a more attractive business offer. He left without even a 
 good-by to me. Nothing proves more conclusively how 
 important to me would have been his retention than this 
 abrupt leave-taking which the doctor had evidently ordered, 
 thinking perhaps that the prospect of a change of attendants 
 would excite me. However, I caused no trouble when the 
 substitution was made, though I did dislike the idea of hav- 
 ing placed over me a man with whom I had previously had 
 misunderstandings. He was about my own age and it was by 
 no means so easy to take orders from him as it had been to 
 obey his immediate predecessor who was considerably older 
 than myself. Then, too, this young attendant dishked me 
 because of the many disagreeable things I had said to him 
 while I was confined in a general ward. He weighed about 
 one hundred ninety pounds to my one hundred thirty, and 
 had evidently been delegated to attend me because of his 
 great physical strength. But I am incHned to think that a 
 choice based on mental rather than physical considerations 
 would have been wiser. The superintendent, because of 
 his advanced age and ill health, had been obhged again to 
 place my case in the hands of the assistant physician, and 
 the latter gave this new attendant certain orders. What I 
 was to be permitted to do, and what not, was carefully 
 specified. These orders, many of them unreasonable, were 
 carried out to the letter. For this I cannot justly blame the 
 attendant. The doctor had deprived him of the right to 
 exercise what judgment he had. 
 
 At this period I required but little sleep. I usually spent 
 
112 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 part of the night drawing; for it was in September, 1902, 
 while I was at the height of my wave of self-centered con- 
 fidence, that a friend who came to see me had given me a 
 copy of Life. And as I had already decided in my own 
 mind that I was destined to become a writer of books — or 
 at least of one -book ^^ I, thought I might as well be an artist, 
 too, and illustrate my own productions.. In school I had 
 never Qet^'^ 'for draw^iiTg; nor at college, either, where, at 
 the Yale Art School, I took a compulsory and distasteful 
 course in that subject. But now my awakened artistic im- 
 pulse was irresistible. My first self-imposed lesson was a 
 free-hand copy of the design on the cover of Life, includ- 
 ing the illustration. Considering the circumstances, that 
 first drawing was creditable, though I cannot now prove the 
 assertion; for inconsiderate attendants destroyed it, with 
 many more of my drawings and manuscripts. From the 
 very moment I completed that first drawing, honors were 
 divided between my literary and artistic impulses; and a 
 letter which, in due time, I was impelled to write to the Gov- 
 ernor of the State incorporated art with literature. I wrote 
 and read several hours a day and I spent as many more, 
 drawing. But the assistant physician, instead of making it 
 easy for me to rid myseK of an excess of energy along literary 
 and artistic lines, balked me at every turn, and seemed to 
 deKght in displaying as little interest as possible in my newly 
 awakened ambitions. So that at a time when everything 
 should have been done to calm my abnormally active mind, 
 a studied indifference and failure to protect my interests 
 kept me in a state of constant exasperation. 
 
 But circumstances now arose which brought about the 
 imtimely stifling — I might better say strangulation — of 
 my artistic impulses. The doctors were led — unwisely, I 
 believe, considering their methods and the hospital's equip- 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 113 
 
 ment — to decide that absolute seclusion was the only thing 
 that would ease my over-active brain. In consequence, all 
 writing and drawing materials and all books were taken from 
 me. And from October i8th until the first of the following 
 January, except for one short fortnight, my brain was left 
 again to all but beat itself into an insane condition, either 
 against itself, or the bare walls and floors of the small, barred 
 rooms in which I was next confined — hardly better than 
 cells in a State's prison and in some instances far worse. 
 
 A corn-cob was the determining factor at this crisis. See- 
 ing in myself an embryonic Raphael I had a habit of 
 preserving all kinds of odds and ends as souvenirs of my 
 development. These, I believed, sanctified by my Midas-like 
 touch, would one day be of great value. If the pubHc can 
 tolerate, as it does, thousands of souvenir hunters, surely an 
 inmate of an asylum should be indulged in the whim for 
 collecting such souvenirs as come within his reach. Among 
 the odds and ends which I had gathered were several corn- 
 cobs. These I intended to gild and make useful by attach- 
 ing to them smaU thermometers. If they seemed valuable 
 to me at the time, that fact in itself should have been reason 
 enough for permitting me to retain them. But, on the morn- 
 ing of October i8th, my athletic attendant, finding them, 
 forthwith informed me that he should throw them away. 
 I as promptly informed him that any such action on his 
 part would lead to a fight. And so it did.^ 
 
 1 Though I admit that the impulse to collect souvenirs must be held in 
 check, lest a patient's room become a sort of jimk-shop, I will not admit 
 that the " souvenir habit" can best be cured by a resort to force — and abu- 
 sive language. A tactful appeal to a patient's sense of right and justice will 
 invariably accomplish a better and more lasting result. Witness the case 
 of the attendant whose insane charge had jumped into a deep river with the 
 mad desire to drown himself. "If you don't come back here I'll lose my 
 job!" shouted the attendant in desperation. The prospective suicide heard 
 9 
 
114 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 When this fight began there were two attendants at hand'. 
 I fought them both to a standstill, and told them I should 
 continue to fight until the assistant physician came to the 
 ward. Thereupon, my special attendant, realizing that I 
 meant what I said, held me while the other went for assist- 
 ance. He soon returned, not with the assistant physician, 
 but with a third attendant, and the fight was renewed. The 
 one who had acted as messenger, being of finer fiber than 
 the other two, stood at a safe distance. It was of course 
 against the rules of the institution for an attendant to strike 
 a patient, and, as I was sane enough to report with a fair 
 chance of belief any forbidden blows, each captor had to 
 content himself with holding me by an arm and attempting 
 to choke me into submission. However, I was able to pre- 
 vent them from getting a good grip on my throat, and for 
 almost ten minutes I continued to fight, telling them all the 
 time that I would not desist until a doctor should come. 
 An assistant physician, but not the one in charge of my 
 case, finally appeared. He ordered the attendants to place 
 me in the "violent ward," which adjoined the private apart- 
 ment I was then occupying, and they lost no time in lock- 
 ing me in a small room in that ward. 
 
 This first fight of the day occurred about 8 a.m. — a fact 
 which should be noted, for October i8th, 1902, was about 
 the busiest day of my life. Three fights between simrise 
 and sunset, and two other incidents not less full of action, 
 and one of them full of torture, give that day a distinctive 
 character. 
 
 Friends have said to me: "Well, what is to be done 
 with an insane man when he runs amuck?" The best 
 
 the appeal, swam ashore, was saved, and to-day enjoys health and freedom. 
 The truth of this incident is vouched for by Dr. Adolf Meyer, of New York. 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 115 
 
 answer I can make is: "Do nothing to make him run 
 amuck." 
 
 A man in the condition in which I was during the period 
 of my elation is a spoiled child. If he wants a thing, harm- 
 less to himself and to others, he should have it. A hospital 
 for the insane must answer many of the purposes of a kin- 
 dergarten and, at times, may well be turned into one. The 
 greater initial expenditure entailed in the individual treat- 
 ment of a case would be offset by the more rapid recovery 
 and earlier discharge of the patient. While I was on the 
 rampage, not more than four or five others under the care 
 of the assistant physician required especial attention. But I 
 required it, and, realizing this, I did my best to get it. 
 Certain psychiatrists support me in the opinion that 
 had I had an attendant with the wisdom and ability to 
 humor me and permit me to keep my priceless corn-cobs, 
 the fight in question, and the worse events that followed, 
 would not have occurred — not that day, nor ever, I believe, 
 had I at all times been properly treated by those in charge 
 of me. 
 
 So again I foimd myself in the violent ward — but this 
 time not because of any desire to investigate it. Art and 
 literature being now more engrossing than my plans for re- 
 form, I became, in truth, an unwilling occupant of a room 
 in a ward devoid of even a suggestion of the aesthetic. The 
 room itself was clean, and under other circumstances might 
 have been cheerful. It was twelve feet long, seven feet 
 wide, and twelve high. A cluster of incandescent lights, 
 enclosed in a semi-spherical glass globe, depended from the 
 ceiling. The walls were bare and plainly wainscotted, 
 and one large window, barred without, gave light. At 
 one side of the door was an opening a foot square with a 
 
ii6 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 door of its own which could be opened only from without, 
 and through which food could be passed to a supposedly 
 dangerous patient. Aside from an iron cot bed, screwed 
 to the floor, the room had no furniture. 
 
 The attendant, before locking me in, searched me and took 
 from me several lead pencils; but the stub of one escaped his 
 vigilance. Naturally, to be taken from a handsomely fur- 
 nished apartment and thrust into such a bare and unattrac- 
 tive room as this, caused my already heated blood to 
 approach the boiling point. Consequently, my first thought 
 was to send a note to the physician who regularly had 
 charge of my case, requesting him to visit me as soon as he 
 should arrive — and I have every reason to believe that the 
 note was delivered. Whether or not this was so, a report 
 of the morning's fight and my transfer must have reached 
 him by some one of the several witnesses. While waiting 
 for an answer, I busied myself writing, and as I had no 
 better supply of stationery I wrote on the walls. Begin- 
 ning as high at I could reach I wrote in columns, each about 
 three feet wide. Soon the pencil became dull. But dull 
 pencils are easily sharpened on the whetstone of wit. Stifling 
 acquired traits, I permitted myself to revert momentarily to 
 a primitive expedient. I gnawed the wood quite from the 
 pencil, leaving only the graphite core. With a bit of graphite 
 a hand guided by the unerring insolence of elation may ar- 
 tistically damn aU men and things. That I am inclined to 
 beheve I did; and I question whether Raphael or Michael 
 Angelo — upon whom I then looked as mere predecessors 
 — ever put more feeHng per square foot into their mural 
 masterpieces. 
 
 Every Httle while, as if to punctuate my composition, and 
 in a vain endeavor to get attention, I kicked the door vigor- 
 ously. Knowing the history of my case, the assistant physi- 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 117 
 
 cian when he learned of my transfer should have made a 
 special visit. But this he neglected to do. Not until eleven 
 o'clock, on his regular round of inspection, did he come near 
 me. As a result I was left for three hours to thrash around 
 that room and work myself into a state of desperate rage. I 
 made up my mind to compel attention. A month earlier, 
 shattered glass had enabled me to accompHsh a certain sane 
 purpose. Again this day it served me. The opalescent 
 globe at the ceiHng seemed to be the most vulnerable point 
 for attack. How to reach and smash it was the next ques- 
 tion — and soon answered. Taking off my shoes I threw 
 one with great force at my glass target and succeeded in 
 striking it a destructive blow. 
 
 When attendants' ears become as nicely attuned to the 
 suppliant cries of neglected patients as they now are to the 
 summoning sound of breaking glass, many of the abuses of 
 which I complain will cease forever to be heard of. The 
 attendants charged upon my room. Their entrance was 
 momentarily delayed by the door which stuck fast. I was 
 standing near it, and when it gave way its edge struck me on 
 the forehead with force enough to have fractured my skull 
 had it struck a weaker part. The attendants were unable 
 to see me, and for this hurt no blame attached to them, ex- 
 cept in so far as it was the indirect result of their continued 
 neglect of me. 
 
 Once in the room the two attendants threw me on the bed 
 and choked me so severely that I could feel my eyes start- 
 ing from their sockets. When attendants choke patients 
 they do so in a bungling manner — even those who have 
 conducted the brutal operation often enough to have mas- 
 tered the technique of it. As it was, a clumsy fellow filled 
 his fist with most of the muscles in my neck and then pro- 
 ceeded to manipulate my throat much as one would squeeze 
 
Ii8 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 a sponge. The attendants then put the room in order; re- 
 moved the glass — that is, all except one small and apparently 
 innocent, but as the event proved well-nigh fatal, piece, — 
 took my shoes and again locked me in my room — not for- 
 getting, however, to curse me well for making them work 
 for their living. 
 
 When the assistant physician finally appeared I met him 
 with a blast of invective which, in view of the events which 
 quickly followed, must have blown out whatever spark of 
 kindly feeling toward me he may have ever entertained. I 
 demanded that he permit me to send word to my conserva- 
 tor asking him to come at once and look after my interests, 
 for I was being unfairly treated. I also demanded that he 
 request the superintendent to visit me at once, as I intended 
 to have nothing more to do with assistant physicians or at- 
 tendants who were neglecting and abusing me. He yielded 
 to neither demand. 
 
 The bit of glass, which the attendants had overlooked, 
 was as large as my thumb nail. If I remember rightly it 
 was not a part of the broken globe. It was a piece that had 
 probably been hidden by a former occupant, in a comer of 
 the square opening at the side of the door. At all events, 
 if the pen is the tongue of a ready writer, so may a piece of 
 glass be, under given conditions. As the thought I had in 
 mind seemed an immortal one I decided to etch, rather than 
 write with fugitive graphite. On the topmost panel of the 
 door, which a few minutes before had dealt me so vicious a 
 blow, I scratched a seven-word sentiment — sincere, if not 
 classic: "God bless our Home, which is Hell." 
 
 The violent exercise of the morning had given me a good 
 appetite and I ate my dinner with relish, though with some 
 difficulty, for the choking had lamed my throat. On serving 
 this dinner the attendants again left me to my own devices. 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 119 
 
 The early part of the afternoon I spent in vain endeavors to 
 induce them to take notes to the superintendent and his 
 assistant. They continued to ignore me. By sundown the 
 furious excitement of the morning had given place to what 
 might be called a deliberative excitement, which, if anything, 
 was more effective. It was but a few days earlier that I had 
 discussed my case with the assistant physician and told him 
 all about the suicidal impulse which had been so strong 
 during my entire period of depression. I now reasoned that 
 a seeming attempt at suicide, a "fake" suicide, would frighten 
 the attendants into calling this doctor whose presence I now 
 desired — and desired the more because of his persistent 
 indifference. No man that ever lived loved life more than 
 I did on that day, and my mock tragedy which I successfully 
 played about dusk was, I believe, as good a farce as was ever 
 perpetrated. If I had any one ambition it was to live long 
 enough to regain my freedom and put behind iron bars this 
 doctor and his tools, the attendants. To compel attention 
 — that was my object. 
 
 At that season the sun set by half-past five and supper was 
 usually served about that time. So dark was my room then 
 that objects in it could scarcely be distinguished. About a 
 quarter of an hour before the attendant was due to appear 
 with my evening meal I made my preparations. That the 
 stage setting might be in keeping with the plot, I tore up 
 such papers as I had with me, and also destroyed other ar- 
 ticles in the room — as one might in a frenzy; and to com- 
 plete the illusion of desperation, deliberately broke my watch. 
 I then took off my suspenders, and tying one end to the head 
 of the bedstead made a noose of the other. This I adjusted 
 comfortably about my throat. At the crucial moment I 
 placed my pillow on the floor beside the head of the bed 
 and sat on it — for this was to be an easy death. I then 
 
I20 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 bore just enough weight on the improvised noose to give all a 
 plausible look. And a last life-like (or rather death-like) 
 touch I added by gurgling as in infancy's happy days. 
 
 No schoolboy ever enjoyed a prank more than I enjoyed 
 this one. Soon I heard the step of the attendant, bringing my 
 supper. When he opened the door he had no idea that any- 
 thing unusual was happening within. Coming as he did 
 from a well lighted room into one that was dark it took him 
 several seconds to grasp the situation — and then he failed 
 really to take it in, for he at once supposed me to be in a semi- 
 unconscious condition from strangulation. In a state of 
 great excitement this brute of the morning called to his 
 brute-partner and I was soon released from what was nothing 
 more than an amusing position, though they believed it one 
 of torture. The vile curses with which they had addressed 
 me in the morning were now silenced. They spoke kindly 
 and expressed regret that I should have seen fit to resort to 
 such an act. Their sympathy was as genuine as such men 
 can feel, but a poor kind at best, for it was excited by the 
 thought of what might be the consequences to them of their 
 own neglect. While this unwonted stress of emotion threat- 
 ened the attendants' peace of mind I continued to play my 
 part, pretending to be all but unconscious. 
 
 Shortly after thus rescuing me from a very living death, 
 the attendants picked me up and carried my limp body and 
 laughing soul to an adjoining room, where I was tenderly 
 placed upon a bed. I seemed gradually to revive. 
 
 "What did you do it for?" asked one of the attendants. 
 
 "What's the use of living in a place like this, to be abused 
 as I've been to-day?" I asked. "You and the doctor ignore 
 me and aU my requests. Even a cup of water between meals 
 is denied me, and other requests which you have no right 
 to refuse. Had I killed myself, both of you would have been 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 1 21 
 
 discharged. And if my relatives and friends had ever found 
 out how you had abused and neglected me it is likely you 
 would have been arrested and prosecuted." 
 
 Word had already been sent to the assistant physician. 
 He hurried to the ward, his almost breathless condition 
 showing how my farce had been mistaken for a real tragedy. 
 The moment he entered I abandoned the part I had been 
 playing. 
 
 "Now that I have you three brutes where I want you I'll 
 tell you a few things you don't know," said I. "You prob- 
 ably think I've just tried to kill myself. It was simply a 
 ruse to make you give me some attention. When I make 
 threats and tell you that my one object in life is to live long 
 enough to regain my freedom and lay bare the abuses which 
 abound in hospitals for the insane you simply laugh at me, 
 don't you? But the fact is, that's my ambition, and if you 
 knew anything at all you'd know that abuse won't drive me 
 to suicide. You can continue to abuse me and deprive me 
 of my rights, and keep me in exile from relatives and friends, 
 but the time will come when I '11 make you sweat for all this. 
 I'll put you in prison where you belong. Or if I fail to do 
 that, I can at least bring about your discharge from this in- 
 stitution. What's more, I will." 
 
 The doctor and attendants now took my threats with 
 characteristic nonchalance. Such threats, often enough 
 heard in such places, make Httle or no impression, for 
 they are seldom made good. Most of those subjected to 
 abuse and neglect never regain their freedom; or, if they 
 do, have not an accurate enough memory, or a stout enough 
 heart, to support any inclination they may have to proceed 
 to action. When I made these threats I really wished to 
 put these men in prison. To-day I have no such desire, 
 for were they not victims of the same vicious system of 
 
122 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 treatment to which I was subjected? In every institution 
 conducted on the principles of "Restraint" the very atmos- 
 phere is brutalizing. Place a bludgeon in the hand of any 
 man, with instructions to use it when necessary, and the 
 gentler and more humane methods of persuasion are natu- 
 rally forgotten or deliberately abandoned. 
 
 Throughout my period of elation, especially the first months 
 of it when I was doing the work of several normal men, I 
 required an increased amount of fuel to generate the abnor- 
 mal energy my activity demanded. I had the characteristic 
 voracious appetite, and I now insisted that the attendant give 
 me the supper which he was about to serve when he discov- 
 ered me in the simulated throes of death. At first he re- 
 fused, but finally relented and brought me a cup of tea and 
 some buttered bread. Because of the severe choking 
 administered earlier in the day it was with difficulty that I 
 swallowed any food. I had to eat slowly. The attendant, 
 however, ordered me to hurry and threatened otherwise to 
 take what little supper I had. I told him that I thought he 
 would not — that I was entitled to my supper and intended 
 to eat it with as much comfort as possible. This nettled 
 him, and by a sudden and unexpected move he managed to 
 take from me all but a crust of bread. Even that he tried 
 to snatch. I resisted and the third fight of the day was soon 
 on, — and that within five minutes of the time the doctor 
 had left the ward. At the time I was seated on the bed. 
 The attendant, true to his vicious instincts, grasped my 
 throat and choked me with the full power of a hand accus- 
 tomed to that unmanly work. His partner, in the mean- 
 time, had rendered me helpless by holding me flat on my back 
 while the attacking party choked me into breathless submis- 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 123 
 
 sion. The first fight of the day was caused by a corn-cob; 
 this of the evening by a crust of bread. Insignificant things 
 — but eloquent evidence. In each instance an insane man, 
 conscious of his rights, was assaulted by two sane but un- 
 trained and unfeeling men whose brutal methods were coun- 
 tenanced by a sane physician. 
 
 Were I to close the record of events of that October day 
 with an account of the assault just described, few, if any, 
 would imagine that I had failed to mention all the abuse to 
 which I was that day subjected. The fact is that not the 
 half has been told. As the handling of me within the twenty- 
 four hours typifies the worst, but, nevertheless, the not un- 
 usual treatment of all patients in a Hke condition, I feel 
 constrained to describe minutely the torture which was my 
 portion that night. I would prefer not to deal at such 
 length with so distressing a subject, but to yield to that 
 preference would not be the way of truth. There are 
 abuses to be corrected and they must be laid bare by one 
 with personal and painful knowledge of them. Non-com- 
 batants may with propriety discuss the buzzing of a mos- 
 quito, but the ominous sound of the bullet can best be 
 described by a man who has been on the firing-line. 
 
 After that supper-fight I was left alone in my room for 
 about an hour. Then the assistant physician, the two at- 
 tendants, and a third attendant entered. One of the attend- 
 ants carried a canvas contrivance known as a camisole. A 
 camisole is a type of strait- jacket; and a very convenient 
 type it is for those who resort to such methods of restraint,^ 
 
 * There are several methods of restraint in use, chief among them: 
 "mechanical restraint" and so-called "chemical restraint." The former con- 
 sists in the use of instruments of restraint, namely, strait- jackets or cami- 
 soles, "muffs," straps, "mittens," "restraint" or "strong" sheets, etc., — 
 
124 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 for it enables them to deny the use of strait-jackets at all. 
 A strait- jacket, indeed, is not a camisole, just as electrocu- 
 tion is not hanging. 
 
 When I planned my ruse of the afternoon I knew perfectly 
 ^ well that I should soon find myself in a strait- jacket. The 
 ^> thought rather took my fancy, for I was resolved to know 
 -~ the inner workings of the violent ward ; and as my purpose in 
 ) life was eventually to bring about reform, I bore the more 
 / wilhngly, sometimes even cheerfully, much of the abuse to 
 which I was subjected. But the fact that my transgressions 
 of rules were frequently dehberate in no way excuses those 
 in authority. For in no other respect did my acts — un- 
 questionably those of an insane man — differ from those of 
 other patients, — except, perhaps, that I was able to avoid 
 their repetition and thus escape much of the punishment 
 which falls to the lot of those who know not what they do. 
 If what I am about to relate arouses sympathy, I trust that 
 it will be bestowed upon the irresponsible patients in whose 
 behalf I speak — not wasted on one who no longer needs it. 
 The piece of glass with which I had that morning written 
 the motto already quoted I had appropriated for a purpose. 
 
 all of them instruments of neglect and torture. "Chemical restraint" 
 (sometimes, but improperly, dignified by the term "medical restraint") 
 consists in the unwise use of temporarily paralyzing drugs, — hyoscine being 
 the popular "dose." By the use of such drugs a troublesome patient may 
 be rendered unconscious and kept so for hours at a time. Indeed, very 
 troublesome patients (especially when attendants are scarce) are not infre- 
 quently kept in a stupefied condition for days, or even for weeks, — but only 
 in institutions where the welfare of the patients is lightly regarded. In- 
 vestigators should remember that the less conspicuous "chemical restraint" 
 is oftentimes used as a substitute for the more spectacular and easily 
 detected "mechanical restraint," — and, to the untrained observer, shows 
 only on the drug bill. By its use any unprincipled management may fool 
 the public. Therefore the mere absence of m^echanical instruments of 
 restraint cannot be taken as proof that an institution is conducted on Non- 
 Restraint principles. 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 125 
 
 Knowing that I should soon be put in the uncomfortable, but 
 not necessarily intolerable, embrace of a strait- jacket, my 
 thought was that I might during the night, in some way or 
 other, use this piece of glass to advantage — perhaps cut 
 my way to a hmited freedom. To make sure that I should 
 retain possession of it, I placed it in my mouth and held it 
 snugly against my cheek. Its presence there did not inter- 
 fere with my speech ; nor did it invite visual detection. But 
 had I known as much about camisoles and their adjustment 
 as I learned later, I should have resorted to no such futile 
 expedient. 
 
 A camisole, or, as I prefer to stigmatize it, a strait- jacket, 
 is really a tight-fitting coat of heavy canvas, reaching from 
 neck to waist, constructed, however, on no ordinary pattern. 
 There is not a button on it. The sleeves are closed at the 
 ends, and the jacket, having no opening in front, is adjusted 
 and tightly laced behind. To the end of each blind sleeve 
 is attached a strong cord. The cord on the right sleeve is 
 carried to the left of the body, and the cord on the left sleeve 
 is carried to the right of the body. Both are then drawn 
 tightly behind, thus bringing the arms of the victim into a 
 folded position across his chest. These cords are then 
 securely tied. 
 
 After many nights of torture, this jacket, at my urgent and 
 repeated request, was finally adjusted in such manner that 
 had it been so adjusted at first, I need not have suffered any 
 torture at all. This I knew at the time, for I had not failed 
 to discuss the matter with a patient who on several occasions 
 had been restrained in this same jacket. It is the abuse 
 rather than the use of such instruments of restraint against 
 which I inveigh. Yet it is hardly worth whUe to distinguish 
 between "use" and "abuse," for it is a fact that where the 
 use of mechanical restraint is permitted, abuse is bound to 
 
126 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 follow. The very fact that there are institutions — many 
 of them at this time — where no such restraint is ever re- 
 sorted to, leads me to dwell at length on the experiences of 
 this night; for I would, if I could, strike the final blow 
 which shall drive these instruments of torture from all hos- 
 pitals for the insane. 
 
 Had not the element of personal spite entered into the 
 assistant physician's treatment of me on this occasion, I 
 should now be pleased to give him the benefit of every doubt. 
 But there are no doubts; and for the enlightenment of all 
 men of his type — and the public — I shall point out his 
 errors. The man's personality was apparently dual. His 
 "Jekyll" personality was the one most in evidence, but it 
 was the "Hyde" personality that seemed to control his ac- 
 tions when a crisis arose. It was "Doctor Jekyll" who 
 approached my room that night, accompanied by the attend- 
 ants. The moment he entered my room he became "Mr. 
 Hyde." He was, indeed, no longer a doctor, or the sem- 
 blance of one. His first move was to take the strait- jacket 
 in his own hands and order me to stand. Knowing that 
 those in authority really believed that I had that day at- 
 tempted to kill myself, I found no fault with their wish to 
 put me in restraint ; but I did object to having this done by 
 Jekyll-Hyde. Though a strait-jacket should always be 
 adjusted by the physician in charge, I knew that as a matter 
 of fact the disagreeable duty was invariably delegated to 
 the attendants. Consequently Jekyll-Hyde's eagerness to 
 assume an obligation he usually shirked inspired me with the 
 feeling that his motives were spiteful. For that reason I 
 preferred to entrust myself to the uncertain mercies of a 
 regular attendant; and I said so, but in vain. "If you will 
 keep your mouth shut I'll be able to do this job quicker," 
 said Jekyll-Hyde. 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 127 
 
 "I'll shut my mouth as soon as you get out of this room 
 and not before," said I. Nor did I. My abusive language 
 was, of course, interlarded with the inevitable epithets. Yet 
 these should not have annoyed the doctor at all, and would 
 not, had he judged them fairly. The more I talked the more 
 vindictive he became. He said nothing, but, unhappily for 
 me, he expressed his pent-up feelings in something more 
 effectual than words. After he had laced the jacket, and 
 drawn my arms across my chest so snugly that I could not 
 move them a fraction of an inch, I asked him to loosen the 
 strait-jacket enough to enable me at least to take a full 
 breath. I also requested him to give me a chance to dis- 
 entangle my fingers which had been caught in an unnatural 
 and uncomfortable position. 
 
 "If you will keep still a minute, I will," said Jekyll-Hyde. 
 I obeyed, and willingly too, for I did not care to suffer more 
 than was necessary. Instead of loosening the strait-jacket 
 as agreed, this doctor, now livid with rage, drew the cords, 
 in such a way that I found myself more securely and cruelly \^ 
 held than before. This breach of faith threw me into a 
 frenzy. Though it was because his continued presence 
 served to aggravate my condition that Jekyll-Hyde at last 
 withdrew, it will be observed that he did not do so until he 
 had satisfied an unmanly desire which an apparently lurking 
 hatred had engendered. 'The attendants soon withdrew 
 and locked me up for the night. 
 
 No one incident of my whole life has ever impressed itself 
 more indelibly on my memory. Within one hour's time I ( 
 was suffering pain as intense as any I ever endured, and be- 
 fore the night had passed that pain had become almost 
 unbearable. My right hand was so held that the tip of one 
 of my fingers was all but cut by the nail of another, and soon 
 knife-like pains began to shoot through my right arm as far 
 
128 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 as the shoulder. If there be any so curious as to wish to get 
 a slight idea of my agony, let him bite a finger tip as hard as 
 he can without drawing blood. Let him continue the op- 
 eration for two or three minutes. Then let him multiply 
 that effect, if he can, by two or three hundred. In my 
 case, after four or five hours the excess of pain rendered 
 me partially insensible to it. But for nine hundred min- 
 utes — fifteen consecutive hours — I remained in that 
 strait-jacket; and not until the twelfth hour, about break- 
 fast time the next morning, did an attendant so much as 
 loosen a cord. 
 
 During the first seven or eight hours, excruciating pains 
 racked not only my arms, but most of my body. For the 
 first and only time in my life I had hysterics. And, though 
 I cried and moaned, in fact, screamed so loudly that the 
 attendants must have heard me, little attention was paid to 
 me, — probably because of the strict orders from "Mr. 
 Hyde," after he had again assumed the r61e of "Doctor 
 Jekyll." I even begged the attendants to loosen the jacket 
 enough to ease me a little. This they refused to do, and they 
 seemed to enjoy being in a position to add their consider- 
 able mite to my torture. 
 
 Before midnight I really believed that I should be unable 
 to endure the torture and retain my reason. A peculiar 
 pricking sensation which I now felt in my brain, a sensation 
 exactly like that of June, 1900, led me to believe that I might 
 again be thrown out of touch with the world I had so lately 
 regained. Realizing the awfulness of that fate I redoubled 
 my efforts to effect my rescue. Shortly after midnight I 
 did succeed in gaining the attention of the night-watch. 
 Upon entering my room he found me flat on the floor. I 
 had fallen from the bed and perforce remained absolutely 
 helpless where I lay. I could not so much as lift my head. 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 129 
 
 This, however, was not the fault of the strait-jacket. It 
 was because I could not control the muscles of my neck 
 which that day had been so mauled. I could scarcely swal- 
 low the water the night-watch was good enough to give me. 
 This night-watch was not a bad sort of fellow; yet even he 
 refused to loosen the strait-jacket a fraction of an inch. As 
 he seemed sympathetic, I can attribute his refusal to nothing 
 but strict orders issued by the assistant physician. 
 
 It will be recalled that I placed a piece of glass in my 
 mouth before the strait-jacket was adjusted. At midnight 
 the glass was still there. After the refusal of the night- 
 watch, I said to him: "Then I want you to go to Doctor 
 Jekyll" (I, of course, called him by his right name; but to 
 do so now would be to prove myself as brutal as Mr. Hyde 
 himself). "Tell him to come here at once and loosen this 
 jacket. I can't endure the torture much longer. After 
 fighting two years to regain my reason, I believe I'll lose my 
 mind again. You have always treated me kindly. For 
 God's sake, get the doctor!" 
 
 "I can't leave the main building at this time," said the 
 night-watch. (Jekyll-Hyde lived in a house about one- 
 eighth of a mile distant, but within the hospital grounds.) 
 
 "Will you then take a message to the assistant physician 
 who stays here?" (One of the two assistant physicians 
 had apartments in the main building.) 
 
 "I'll do that," he replied. 
 
 "Tell him how I'm suffering. Ask him to please come 
 here at once and ease this strait- jacket. If he doesn't I'll 
 be as crazy by morning as I ever was. Also tell him I'll 
 kill myself unless he comes, and I can do it, too. I have a 
 piece of glass in this room and I know just what I'll do 
 with it." 
 
 The night-watch was as good as his word. He after- 
 
I30 
 
 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 wards told me that he had delivered my message. The 
 doctor ignored it. He did not come near me that night, 
 nor the next day, nor did Jekyll-Hyde appear until his usual 
 round of inspection about eleven o'clock the next morning. 
 
 "I understand that you have a piece of glass v^hich you 
 threatened to use for a suicidal purpose last night," said he, 
 when he appeared. 
 
 "Yes I have, and it's not your fault or the other doctor's 
 that I am not now dead. Had I gone mad, in my frenzy I 
 might have swallowed that glass." 
 
 "Where is it?" asked the doctor, incredulously. 
 
 As my strait- jacket rendered me armless I presented the 
 glass to Jekyll-Hyde on the tip of a tongue which he had 
 often heard but never before seen. 
 
XVI 
 
 Mine was no suicidal intent. Yet, in my hysterical con- 
 dition it is wonderful that I did not swallow that glass even 
 by accident; and had I happened to become irresponsibly 
 insane — as well I might — it is more than probable that 
 I should have done so by design. The assistant physician 
 who ignored my midnight request may have been influenced 
 by ethical reasons — perhaps by a wish not to interfere with 
 Doctor JekyU's case. If so, ethics of that sort — or the 
 so-called etiquette of the profession — had best be done 
 away with in asylums. And, though I am sure that this-' 
 physician harbored no feeling of ill-wiU toward me, he 
 is, nevertheless, deser\dng of censure because of his almost 
 criminal neglect of a patient who, he well knew, had previously 
 been possessed of suicidal impulses. Indeed, he did not 
 surely know whether my apparent attempt at suicide that 
 evening had been real or simply a ruse. But the general 
 belief was that I had meant to kiU myself. The least this 
 doctor could have done was to take the trouble to investi- 
 gate, judge my condition, and deprive me of the piece of 
 glass I claimed to have — or convince himself that I did not 
 have it. 
 
 Such errors of judgment are, I believe, common. They 
 are due sometimes to sheer laziness, but probably more often 
 to the fact that so many insane patients cry *'Wolfl" But 
 annoyance is no excuse for negligence. If doctors are not 
 willing to do their whole duty and protect aU patients at aU 
 hours they should either resign or be summarily discharged. 
 
 131 
 
132 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 It is to be regretted that so many members of the medical 
 profession seek and accept positions in hospitals for the in- 
 sane, not because of any genuine interest in the work to be 
 done, but simply as a sort of makeshift which will enable 
 them to support themselves until they can engage in the 
 general practice of medicine, or of a certain congenial branch 
 of it. It is these veritable leeches who generally treat pa- 
 tients with the least consideration. They become medical 
 policemen who make their rounds in a perfunctory way and 
 resort to the club or its equivalent upon slight provocation. 
 Though there are without doubt many competent physicians, 
 fine men, who really have taken up their work among the 
 insane without any intention of making it their life-work, 
 these men have immediately appreciated the opportunity 
 for the life of noble unselfishness which lies before them, 
 and, grasping that opportunity, have wrought excellent re- 
 sults — considering the inadequate equipment with which, in 
 most instances, they have been compelled to work. What 
 surprises me is that so many thoroughly efficient physicians 
 have been willing to work year in and year out for salaries 
 which are not so large, by one half, as the income most of 
 them could surely enjoy in general practice. No class of 
 men in the world are more deserving of generous treatment 
 than the competent and considerate men now working among 
 the insane. As for the incompetent, may their incompetence 
 be so conspicuous as to effect their prompt discharge! 
 
 After fifteen interminable hours the strait-jacket was re- 
 moved. Whereas just prior to its putting on I had been in 
 a vigorous enough condition to offer stout resistance when 
 assaulted, now, on coming out of it, I was helpless. When 
 my arms were released from their restricted position the pain 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 133 
 
 was intense. Each and every joint had been racked. I had 
 no control over the fingers of either hand, and could not have 
 dressed myself had I been promised my freedom for doing so. 
 And this, bear in mind, was the effect of a camisole, which 
 form of restraint hospital officials, when called upon to'^ 
 testify, so often describe as being harmless and not very un- i 
 comfortable. -^ 
 
 For more than the following week I suffered as already 
 described, though of course with gradually decreasing 
 intensity as my racked body became accustomed to the 
 unnatural positions it was forced to take. This first experi- 
 ence occurred on the night of October i8th, 1902. I was 
 subjected to the like unfair and unnecessary ordeal each 
 and every night on the following dates : October 19th, 20th, 
 2ist, 22d, 23d, 24th, 25th, 26th, 27th, 28th, 29th, 30th, and 
 31st, as well as the nights of November ist, 2d, 3d, 4th, 
 5th, 6th, and 7th, — twenty-one nights in all, and parts of 
 each of the corresponding twenty-one days. On more than 
 one occasion, indeed, the attendant placed me in the strait- 
 jacket during the day for refusing to obey some sHght wish. 
 This, too, without an explicit order from the doctor in 
 charge, though perhaps he acted under a general order.* 
 
 During most of this restraint I was in the padded cell. A 
 padded cell is a vile hole. The side walls are padded as high 
 as a man can reach, as is also the inside of the door. The 
 worst feature of such cells is the lack of ventilation, which 
 deficiency of course aggravates the general unsanitary con- 
 dition. The cell which I was compelled to occupy was prac- 
 tically without heat. As a result I suffered intensely from 
 
 1 In some States the law requires that a record of the use of mechanical 
 restraint and seclusion be kept by hospital ofi&cials, and that such record 
 shall be open to public inspection. This law is a move in the right direc- 
 tion. Restraint hates Pubhcity. 
 
134 
 
 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 the cold. Frequently it was so cold I could see my breath. 
 And, though my canvas jacket served to protect part of that 
 body which it was at the same time racking, I was seldom 
 comfortably warm. For, once uncovered, my arms being 
 pinioned, I had no way of re-arranging the tangled blankets. 
 What little sleep I managed to get I took lying on a filthy 
 and hard mattress placed on the bare floor. 
 
 Lack of ventilation means vitiated and foul air, and viti- 
 ated and foul air was the last thing one in my conditionTsiiouid' 
 have been permitted to breathe. I was entitled to an ade- 
 quate supply of oxygen, for, being two or three times as 
 active as any normal person, I was burning up a propor- 
 tionately greater amount of tissue. Strangely enough I 
 was able to hold my own while thus subjected to a 
 process of slow poisoning; but I am confident that many 
 a patient, possessed of less stamina, has been seriously 
 affected, if not permanently injured, by confinement in such 
 unsanitary dens. To describe the condition of a padded cell 
 at its worst would violate good taste. As it is likely to be in 
 an unmentionable condition for hours at a time the serious- 
 ness of the situation may be appreciated. The condition of 
 my mattress was such that I objected to its use; and nothing 
 so justifies my objection as the fact that it was actually and 
 immediately heeded. It seems to be the prevailing opinion 
 that "anything is good enough for a crazy man." In my 
 opinion, if the sane suggestions and requests of insane pa- 
 tients were complied with, as my suggestion was on this 
 occasion, hospitals for the insane would become model insti- 
 tutions sooner than they will if the needed changes continue 
 to depend upon indifferent persons in authority. 
 
 It is to be regretted that many hospitals for the insane 
 maintain such cells — either padded or unpadded. Like 
 strait-jackets they can be used to advantage only on the 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 135 
 
 rarest occasions. Therefore they should be abolished. They 
 have abready been abolished by those doctors who are 
 advocates of Non-Restraint — except in a few instances 
 where the authorities have not yet given these intelligent 
 superintendents money enough to provide the added atten- 
 tion and equipment necessary to care properly for a patient 
 during a period of intense excitement.^ 
 
 The man who was superintendent while I was undergoing 
 treatment at this hospital had, during his early incumbency, 
 gained considerable distinction by advocating Non-Restraint. 
 But, during the latter years of his life, for some reason 
 unknown to me, he permitted Restraint to be used — in 
 moderation. Nevertheless, "moderation" means "abuse," as 
 my account surely proves. I attribute this doctor's appar- 
 ent change of attitude to his advanced age, which made it 
 physically impossible for him to give that attention to the 
 individual case which a proper enforcement of Non-Restraint 
 requires. In saying this, however, I do not wish to seem un- 
 grateful to a man, now dead, who did much for me and would 
 have done more had he at the time known of the conduct 
 of his assistant physician. 
 
 The present superintendent of this hospital, a man in the 
 prime of life and a firm believer in Non- Restraint, is placing 
 the institution on a Non-Restraint basis. The vile padded 
 cell, already described, no longer exists, and only once or 
 twice during the past year has a patient been placed in a 
 strait-jacket, and then only by the direct order and in the 
 presence of the superintendent himself. Why use a strait- 
 jacket at all ? Simply because methods of treatment in an 
 
 1 In a hospital provided with modem bathing facilities mechanical re- 
 straint and "seclusion" need never be resorted to; for modem equipment 
 includes the so-called "continuous bath," in which an excited patient may 
 be placed and kept for hours, until his excitability gives way to a fairly 
 normal calm. As a rule, patients enjoy the "continuous bath." 
 
136 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 institution in which mechanical restraint has been used 
 cannot immediately be changed. Not that the doctors ad- 
 vocating Non-Restraint need time to adjust themselves to 
 the new conditions, but the attendants require both time 
 and training; and changes also (though not great ones) in 
 the equipment of the building are necessary. The principle 
 of Non-Restraint is something which has to be absorbed. 
 It is an atmosphere of kindliness. It is not unliEeThe' 
 esprit de corps of the army — a certain standard to be 
 attained and maintained. When attendants once appreciate 
 the significance and advantages of it they invariably take 
 great pride in proving that they have the faculty for con- 
 trolling patients without resorting to any other force than that 
 of kindliness — one of the greatest and least used of all forces. 
 
 For this period of three weeks — from October 18th until 
 November 8th, 1902, when I left this institution and was 
 transferred to a state hospital for the insane — I was con- 
 tinuously either under lock and key (in the padded cell or 
 some other room) or under the eye of an attendant. Over 
 half the time I was in the snug but cruel embrace of a 
 strait-jacket — about three hundred hours in all. While 
 being subjected to this terrific abuse I was held in an exile 
 as complete as that of a Siberian convict. I was cut off 
 from all direct and all honest indirect communication with 
 my legally appointed conservator, and also with all relatives 
 and friends. I was even cut off from satisfactory com- 
 munication with the superintendent, who was a real friend 
 and one who would not have permitted me to suffer so had 
 he known the truth. To be sure, he knew that I was 
 being subjected to restraint, but he supposed it was such 
 as he himself would have administered under like circum- 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 137 
 
 stances, restraint which, though unpleasant, need not have 
 amounted to torture. Being in exile and deprived more 
 completely of my rights than a justly condemned murderer 
 who had all but forfeited his life, I saw the superintendent 
 but twice, and then for so short a time that I was unable 
 to give him any convincing idea of my plight. These inter- 
 views occurred on two Sundays that fell within my period of 
 exile, for it was on Sunday that the superintendent usually 
 made his weekly round of inspection. What chance had I 
 of successfully advocating my cause while my pulpit was a 
 padded cell, and the congregation — with the exception of 
 the superintendent — the very attaches who had been abus- 
 ing me? At such times my pent-up indignation poured 
 itself forth in such a disconnected way that my protests were" 
 robbed of their right ring of truth. For all that, I was not 
 then, or at any time, incoherent in speech. I was simply 
 voluble and digressive — a natural incident of elation. Such 
 notes as I managed to write on scraps of paper were inva- 
 riably confiscated by the assistant physician. At all events, 
 it was not imtil some months later that the superintendent 
 was informed of my treatment, when, at my request, no less 
 a person than the Governor of the State discussed the sub- 
 ject with him. How I brought about that discussion while 
 still virtually a prisoner will be narrated in due time. And 
 not until several days after I had left this institution and had 
 been placed in another, when for the first time in six weeks I 
 saw my conservator, did he learn of the treatment to which I 
 had been subjected. From his office in New Haven he had 
 on several occasions called up the assistant physician and 
 inquired about my condition. Though the doctor did tell 
 him that I was highly excited and difficult to control he did 
 not even hint that I was being subjected to any unusual re- 
 straint. Dr. Jekyll deceived every one, and — as things 
 
138 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 have turned out — deceived himself; for, had he realized 
 /then that I should one day be able to do what I am now 
 doing, his brutal instincts would surely have been checked 
 by his cowardly ones. 
 
 How helpless, how at the mercy of his keepers, a man who 
 enters an asylum may be, is further illustrated by the conduct 
 of this same doctor. Once, during the third week of my 
 experience in a strait-jacket, I refused to take certain med- 
 icine which the attendant offered me. For some time I had 
 been regularly taking this innocuous concoction without pro- 
 test; but I now decided that as the attendant refused most 
 of my requests I should no longer comply with all of his. He 
 did not argue the point with me. He simply reported my 
 refusal to Doctor Jekyll, A few minutes later Doctor Jekyll 
 — or rather Mr. Hyde — accompanied by three attendants, 
 entered the padded cell. I was robed for the night — in a 
 strait-jacket. Mr. Hyde held in his hand a rubber tube. 
 An attendant stood near with the medicine. For over two 
 years, threats had been made that the "tube" would be re- 
 sorted to if I refused medicine or food. I had begun to 
 look upon it as a myth; but its presence in the hands of an 
 oppressor now convinced me of its reality. I saw that the 
 doctor and his bravos meant business; and, as I had already 
 endured torture enough, I determined to make every conces- 
 sion this time and escape what seemed to be in store for me. 
 
 "What are you going to do with that?" I asked, fixing 
 my eye on the tube. 
 
 "The attendant says you refuse to take your medicine. 
 We are going to make you take it." 
 
 "I'll take your old medicine," was my reply. 
 
 "You have had your chance," said Mr. Hyde. 
 
 "All right," I said. "Put that medicine into me any way 
 you think best. But the time will come when you'll wish 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 139 
 
 you hadn't. When that time does come it won't be easy to 
 prove that you had the right to force a patient to take 
 medicine he had offered to take. I know something about 
 the ethics of your profession. You have no right to do 
 anything to a patient except what's good for him. You 
 know that. All you are trying to do is to punish me, and I 
 give you fair warning I'm going to camp on your trail tiU 
 you are not only discharged from this institution, but ex- 
 pelled from the State Medical Society as well. You are a 
 disgrace to your profession, and that society will attend to 
 your case fast enough when certain members of it, who are 
 friends of mine, hear about this. Furthermore, I shall re- 
 port your conduct to the Governor of the State. He can 
 take some action even if this is not a state institution. Now, 
 damn you, do your worst!" 
 
 Coming from an insane man this was rather straight talk. 
 The doctor was noticeably disconcerted. Had he not feared 
 to lose caste with the attendants who stood by I think he^ 
 would have given me another chance. But he had too much 
 pride and too little manhood to recede from a false position 
 once taken. I no longer resisted, even verbally, for I no 
 longer wanted the doctor to desist. Though I did not an- 
 ticipate the operation with pleasure, I was eager to take 
 the man's measure. He and the attendants knew that I 
 usually kept a trick or two even up the sleeve of a strait- 
 jacket, so they took added precautions. I was fiat on my 
 back, with simply a mattress between me and the floor. One 
 attendant held me. Another stood by with the medicine 
 and with a funnel through which, as soon as Mr. Hyde 
 should insert the tube, the dose was to be poured. The 
 third attendant stood near as a reserve force. Though the 
 insertion of the tube, when skilfully done, need not cause suf- 
 fering, the operation as conducted by Mr. Hyde was painful. 
 
I40 
 
 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 "Try as he would he was unable to insert the tube properly, 
 though in no way did I attempt to balk him. His embar- 
 rassment seemed to rob his hand of whatever cunning it 
 may have possessed. After what seemed ten minutes of 
 bungling, though it was probably not quite five, he gave up 
 the attempt, but not until my nose had begun to bleed. 
 He was plainly chagrined when he and his bravos retired. 
 Intuitively I felt that they would soon return. That they 
 did, armed with a new implement of war. This time the 
 doctor inserted between my teeth a large wooden peg — to 
 keep open a mouth which he usually wished closed. He 
 then forced down my throat a rubber tube. Then the at- 
 tendant adjusted the funnel, and the medicine, or rather 
 liquid — for its medicinal properties were without effect 
 upon me — was poured in. 
 
 This medicine was supposed to be soporific in effect. If 
 I was so greatly in need of sleep, was an hour of intense 
 mental excitement and physical torture likely to induce it? 
 The spite of this man who thus tried to discipline me was 
 evident. Though I am confident that few doctors in charge 
 of the insane act as unprofessionally and unfairly as he did, 
 there are, I believe, men of his type to be found in every 
 State in the Union. And they will continue to prey upon 
 the insane until Non-Restraint becomes the watchword of 
 all. 
 
XVII 
 
 As the scant reports sent to my conservator during these 
 three weeks indicated that I was not improving as he had 
 hoped, he made a special trip to the institution to investigate 
 in person. On his arrival he was met by none other than 
 Doctor Jekyll, who told him that I was in a highly excited 
 condition, which, he intimated, would be aggravated by a 
 personal interview. Now for a man to see his brother in 
 my plight would be a distressing ordeal, and, though my 
 conservator came within two hundred feet of my prison cell, 
 it naturally took but a suggestion to dissuade him from 
 coming nearer. Doctor Jekyll did tell him that it had been 
 found necessary to place me in "restraint" and "seclusion" 
 (the professional euphemisms for "strait-jacket," "padded 
 cell," etc.), but no hint was given that I had been roughly 
 handled. Doctor Jekyll's politic dissuasion was no doubt 
 inspired by the knowledge that if ever I got within speaking 
 distance of my conservator nothing could prevent my 
 giving him a circumstantial account of my sufferings — 
 which account would have been corroborated by the black- 
 ened eye I happened to have at the time. Indeed, in dealing 
 with my conservator, the assistant physician showed a degree 
 of tact which, had it been directed toward myself, would 
 have sufficed to keep me tolerably comfortable. 
 
 My conservator, though temporarily stayed, was not con- 
 vinced. He felt that I was not improving where I was, and 
 he wisely decided that the best course would be to have me 
 transferred to a pubhc institution — the State Hospital. A 
 
 141 
 
142 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 few days later the judge who had originally committed me 
 ordered my transfer. Nothing was said to me about the 
 proposed change until the moment of departure, and then 
 I could scarcely believe my ears. In fact I did not believe 
 my informers; for three weeks of abuse, together with my 
 continued inability to get in touch with my conservator, had 
 so shaken my reason that there was a partial recurrence of 
 old delusions. I imagined myself on the way to the State 
 Prison, a few miles distant; and not until the train had 
 passed the prison station did I believe that I was really on 
 my way to the State Hospital for the Insane.^ 
 
 1 The managements of institutions where the insane are received and 
 treated should, without further delay, adopt the sensible system of nomen- 
 clature now in use in several States in the Union. For instance, in New 
 York, the "State Hospitals for the Insane" are designated as follows: 
 Hudson River State Hospital, Willard State Hospital, Manhattan State 
 Hospital, etc. The word "insane" does not appear in the name or on the 
 stationery of an institution, where it is so likely to offend sensitive inmates 
 and their relatives. The phrase "State Hospital," vdth appropriate words 
 preceding, — preferably a word or words suggesting its location, — is all the 
 designation needed. A general adoption of this suggestion vsdll render 
 obsolete the already archaic but still used names: "Lunatic Asylum," 
 " Insane Asylum," "Insane Hospital" and "Hospital for the Insane." In 
 this book the latter name is repeatedly used, — not from choice, however, 
 but because it is the one in general use at present. The main point is that 
 people should learn to avoid the unnecessary use of words weighted with 
 misconceptions of the past. 
 
XVIII 
 
 The State Hospital for the Insane in which I now found 
 myself, though in many respects above the average of such 
 institutions, is typical. It commands a wide view of a beauti- 
 ful river and valley. This view I was permitted to enjoy — 
 at first. Those in charge of the institution which I had just 
 left did not give my new custodians any detailed account of 
 my case. Their reticence was, I believe, occasioned by 
 chagrin rather than charity. Tamers of wild men have as 
 much pride as tamers of wild animals (but unfortunately 
 less skill) and to admit defeat is a thing not to be thought 
 of. Though private institutions are prone to shift their 
 troublesome cases to state institutions, there is a deplorable 
 lack of sympathy and co-operation between them, which in 
 this instance, however, proved fortunate for me. 
 
 From October i8th until the early afternoon of November 
 8th, at the private institution, I had been classed as a raving 
 maniac. The name I had brought upon myself by experi- 
 mental conduct; the condition had been aggravated and 
 perpetuated by the stupidity of those in authority over me. 
 And it was the same experimental conduct on my part, and 
 stupidity on the part of my new custodians, which gave 
 rise, two weeks later, to a similar situation. On Friday, 
 November 7th, I was in a strait- jacket. On November 9th 
 and loth I was apparently as tractable as any of the twenty- 
 three hundred patients in the State Hospital — convention- 
 ally clothed, mild mannered, and, seemingly, right minded. 
 On the 9th, the day after my arrival, I attended a church 
 
 143 
 
144 
 
 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 service held at the hospital. My behavior was not other 
 than that of the most pious worshiper in the land. The 
 next evening, with most exemplary deportment, I attended 
 one of the dances which are held every fortnight during the 
 winter. Had I been a raving maniac such activities would 
 have led to a disturbance; for maniacs, of necessity, disre- 
 gard the conventions of both pious and polite society. Yet, 
 on either of these days, had I been in the private institution, 
 I should have occupied a cell and worn a strait-jacket. 
 
 The assistant superintendent, who received me upon my 
 arrival, judged me by my behavior. He assigned me to one 
 of two connecting wards — the best in the hospital — where 
 about seventy patients led a fairly agreeable life. Though 
 no ofhcial account of my case had accompanied my transfer, 
 the attendant who had acted as escort and guard had already 
 given an attendant at the State Hospital a brief account of 
 my recent experiences. Yet when this report finally reached 
 the ears of those in authority they wisely decided not to trans- 
 fer me to another ward so long as I caused no trouble where 
 I was. Finding myself at last among friends I lost no time 
 in asking for writing and drawing materials, which had 
 so rudely been taken from me three weeks earlier. My re- 
 quest was promptly granted. The doctors and attendants 
 treated me kindly and I again began to enjoy life. My de- 
 sire to write and draw had not abated. However, I did not 
 devote my entire time to those pursuits, for there were plenty 
 of congenial companions about. I found pleasure in talk- 
 ing — more pleasure by far than others did in listening. In 
 fact I talked incessantly, and soon made known, in a general 
 way, my scheme for reforming asylums, not only in the 
 State, but, of course, throughout the world, for my delu- 
 sional perspective made the earth look small. The attend- 
 ants had to bear the brunt of my loquacity, and they soon 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 145 
 
 grew weary. One of them, wishing to induce silence, ven- 
 tured to remark that I was so crazy I could not possibly 
 keep my mouth shut for even one minute. His challenge 
 aroused my fighting spirit. 
 
 ''I'll show you that I can stop talking for a whole day," 
 said I. He laughed, knowing that of all difficult tasks this 
 which I had imposed upon myself was, for one in my con- 
 dition, least likely of accomplishment. But I was as good 
 as my boast. Until the same hour the next day I refused to 
 speak to any one. I did not even reply to civil questions; 
 and, though my silence was deliberate and good-natured, 
 the assistant physician seemed to consider it of a contuma- 
 cious variety, for he threatened to transfer me to a less 
 desirable ward imless I should again begin to talk. 
 
 That day of self-imposed silence was just about the longest 
 I have ever lived, for I was under a word-pressure sufficient 
 to have filled a book. Any alienist will admit that my per- 
 formance was remarkable, and he will further agree that it 
 was, at least, an indication of a high degree of self-control. 
 Though I have no desire to prove that at this period I was not 
 in an abnormal condition, I do wish to show that I had a 
 degree of self-control that probably would have enabled me 
 to remain in the best ward at this institution had I not been 
 intent — insanely intent, of course, and yet with a high de- 
 gree of deliberation — upon a reformatory investigation. 
 The crest of my wave of elation had been reached early in 
 October. It was now (November) that the curve represent- 
 ing my return to normality should have been continuous 
 and diminishing. Instead, it was kept violently fluctuating 
 — or at least its fluctuations were aggravated — by the im- 
 positions of those in charge of me, induced sometimes, I 
 freely admit, by deliberate and purposeful transgressions of 
 my own. My condition during my first three weeks of exile 
 
146 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 had been, if anything, one of milder excitement than that 
 which had previously obtained during the first seven vi'-eeks 
 of my period of elation. And my condition during the two 
 weeks I now remained in the best ward in the State Hospital 
 was not different from my condition during the preceding 
 three weeks of torture, or the succeeding three weeks of abuse 
 and privation — except in so far as a difference was occa- 
 sioned by the torture and privation itself. 
 
 Though I had all along intended to effect reforms in ex- 
 isting methods of treatment, my intense and reckless desire 
 to investigate "violent wards" did not possess me until I 
 myself had experienced the torture of continued confine- 
 ment in such a ward. It was simple to deduce that if one 
 could suffer as I had while a patient in a private institution, 
 brutality must exist in a state hospital. So it was that I en- 
 tered the State Hospital with a firm resolve to inspect per- 
 sonally every type of ward, good and bad. But I was in no 
 hurry to begin. My recent experience had exhausted me, 
 and I wished to regain strength before subjecting myself to 
 another such ordeal. This desire to recuperate controlled my 
 conduct for a while, but its influence gradually diminished as 
 life became more and more monotonous. I soon found the 
 good ward entirely too polite. I craved excitement — action. 
 And I determined to get it regardless of consequences; 
 though I am free to confess I should not have had the courage 
 to execute my plan had I known what was in store for me. 
 
 About this time my conservator called to see me. Of 
 course I told him all about my cruel experiences at the 
 private institution. My account surprised and distressed 
 him. I also told him that I knew for a fact that similar 
 conditions existed at the State Hospital, as I had heard con- 
 vincing rumors to that effect. He urged me to behave my- 
 self and remain in the ward where I was, which ward, as I 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 147 
 
 admitted, was all that one could desire — provided one had 
 schooled himself to desire that sort of thing. During our 
 talk I told my conservator that I wished to spend Thanks- 
 giving Day at home. He said that that was out of the ques- 
 tion, as I was in too excited a condition. His objection was 
 absolutely fair, but I could not at that time see the jus- 
 tice of it. With intense feeling and the forcefulness of 
 right words I informed him that nothing should prevent 
 my going to New Haven the following week. 
 
 The fact that I was under lock and key and behind what 
 were virtually prison bars in no way gave me a sense of help- 
 lessness. I firmly believed that I should find it easy to 
 effect my escape and reach home for the Thanksgiving Day 
 celebration. And, furthermore, I knew that, should I reach 
 home, I should not be denied my portion of the good things 
 to eat before being returned to the hospital. (After a famine, 
 love of food is hkely to be as strong as love of home.) Being 
 under the spell of an intense desire to investigate the "vio- 
 lent ward," I concluded that the time for action had come. 
 I reasoned, too, that it would be easier and safer to escape 
 from that ward — which was on a level with the ground — 
 than from a ward three stories above it. The next thing I 
 did was to inform the attendants and several of the patients 
 that within a day or two I should do something to cause my 
 removal thither. They of course did not believe that I had 
 any idea of deliberately inviting such a transfer, for the 
 violent ward to an inmate of a hospital for the insane is 
 what a prison is to a sane and free man. My very frank- 
 ness disarmed the attendants. 
 
 On the evening of November 21st I went from room to 
 room collecting all sorts of odds and ends belonging to other 
 patients. These I secreted in my room. I also collected 
 a small library of books, magazines, and newspapers. After 
 
148 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 securing all the booty I dared, I mingled with the other 
 patients until the time came for going to bed. The attend- 
 ants soon locked me in my junk shop and I spent the rest 
 of the night setting it in disorder. My original plan had been 
 to barricade the door during the night, and thus hold the 
 doctors and attendants at bay until those in authority had 
 accepted my ultimatum, which was to include a Thanksgiv- 
 ing visit at home. But before morning I had slightly al- 
 tered my plan. My sleepless night of activity had made me 
 ravenously hungry, and I decided that it would be wiser not 
 only to fill my stomach but to lay by other supplies of food 
 before submitting to a siege. Accordingly I set things to 
 rights and went about my business the next morning as 
 usual. At breakfast I ate enough for two men, and put in 
 my pockets bread enough to last for twenty-four hours at 
 least. Then I returned to my room and at once barricaded 
 the door. My barricade consisted of a wardrobe, several 
 drawers which I had removed from the bureau, and a num- 
 ber of books, — among them " Paradise Lost " and the 
 Bible, which books I placed in position, with conscious 
 satisfaction, as a key-stone. Thus the space between the 
 door and the opposite wall of the room was completely filled. 
 My room-mate, a young fellow in the speechless condition in 
 which I had been during my period of depression, was in 
 the room with me. This was accidental. It was no part of 
 my plan to hold him as a hostage, though I might finally have 
 used him as a pawn in the negotiations had my barricade 
 resisted the impending attack longer than it did. It is a 
 cormnon trick for insane patients to barricade their doors, 
 and such situations when they arise are rightly regarded as 
 serious. The conduct of the patient who has thus isolated 
 himself is, to those in authority, entirely a matter of con- 
 jecture. Though certain types of patients may safely be left 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 149 
 
 in their elected seclusion, one as excited as I was on this 
 occasion, of course, had to be brought to bay. It was not 
 long before the attendants realized that something was 
 wrong. They came to my door and asked me to open it, I 
 refused, and told them that to argue the point would be a 
 waste of time. They tried to force an entrance. Failing in 
 that, they reported to the assistant physician. At first he 
 parleyed with me. I good-naturedly, but emphatically, told 
 him that I could not be talked out of the position I had 
 taken; nor could I be taken out of it until I was ready to 
 surrender, for my barricade was one that would surely hold. 
 I also announced that I had carefully planned my line of 
 action and knew what I was about. I complimented him on 
 his hitherto tactful treatment of me, and grandiloquently — 
 yet sincerely — I thanked him for his many courtesies. I 
 also expressed entire satisfaction with the past conduct of 
 the attendants. In fact, on that part of the institution in 
 which I was then confined I put the stamp of my capricious 
 approval. "But," said I, "I know that there are wards in 
 this hospital where helpless patients are brutally treated; 
 and I intend to put a stop to these abuses at once. Not 
 until the Governor of the State, the judge who committed 
 me, and my conservator come to this door will I open it. 
 When they arrive we '11 see whether or not patients are to be 
 robbed of their rights and abused." 
 
 My speech was made through a screen transom over the 
 door. In print it has a highly sane and connected appear- 
 ance; but my course of action was rightly construed as 
 symptomatic of elation; and the doctor acted wisely in re- 
 fusing to be reassured. For a few minutes he continued 
 his persuasive methods. That he should even imagine that 
 I would basely recede from my high and mighty position, 
 only irritated me the more. 
 
I50 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 "You can stand outside that door all day if you choose," 
 I said. "I won't open it until the three men I have named 
 appear. I have prepared for a siege; and I have enough 
 food in this room to keep me going for a day anyway." 
 
 My ultimatum was in fact couched in more vituperative 
 terms and naturally nettled the doctor. Besides, he was, no 
 doubt, apprehensive for my room-mate, fearing perhaps that 
 I might make his life the price of a refusal to summon the 
 State authorities at my bidding. Realizing at last that no 
 argument would move me, he set about forcing an entrance. 
 First he tried to remove the transom by striking it with a 
 stout stick. I gave blow for blow and the transom remained 
 in place. To this day it shows the marks of the conflict. A 
 carpenter was then sent for, but before he could go about his 
 work one of the attendants managed to open the door enough 
 to thrust in his arm and shove aside my barricade. I did 
 not realize what was being done until it was too late to inter- 
 fere. The door once open, in rushed the doctor and four 
 attendants. Without ceremony I was thrown upon the bed, 
 with two or tliree of the attacking force on top of me. Again 
 I was choked, this time by the assistant physician. Though 
 I am of the opinion that such action on his part was totally 
 uncalled for, especially so because of its demoralizing effect 
 upon the attendants present, I wish to credit him with a de- 
 gree of skill which enabled him to accomplish his purpose 
 without any serious bruising of my throat. The operation 
 was a matter of only a moment. But before it was over I 
 had the good fortune to deal the doctor a stinging blow on 
 the jaw, for which (as he was about my own age and the 
 odds were five to one) I have never felt called upon to 
 apologize. 
 
 Once I was subdued each of the four attendants attached 
 himself to a leg or an arm and, under the direction of the doc- 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 151 
 
 tor, I was carried bodily through two corridors, down two 
 flights of stairs, and to the "violent ward." My dramatic 
 exit startled my fellow patients, for so much action in so 
 short a time is seldom seen in a quiet ward. And few 
 patients placed in the "violent ward" are introduced with so 
 impressive an array of camp-followers as I had that day. 
 
 All this to me was a huge joke, with a good purpose be- 
 hind it. Though excited I was good-natured and, en route 
 to my new quarters, I said to the doctor; "Whether you be- 
 lieve it or not, it's a fact that I'm going to reform these in- 
 stitutions before I'm done. I raised this rumpus to make 
 you transfer me to the violent ward. What I want you to do 
 now is to show me the worst you've got." 
 
 "You needn't worry," said the doctor. "You'll get it." 
 
 He spoke the truth. I did "get it." 
 
XIX 
 
 Ix this countr}' on Decem?jer 31st, 1903, there v»'ere two 
 hundred and twenty-six public and one hundred and two 
 private hospitals for the insane. The majority of these, ex- 
 cept the smallest of the private institutions, must have at 
 least two "violent wards" — one for the men, one for the 
 women. Some of the larger hospitals have several such 
 wards. Therefore, it may safely be assumed that there are, 
 all told, about seven hundred v/ards of this character in 
 which not fev/er than fifteen thousand patients are confined. 
 Of these thousands, many live, as it were, near the very 
 crater of a volcano of trouble; and many of the other 
 patients live on the uncertain slopes of this same volcano 
 — within a zone of constant menace. 
 
 Throughout the countr}^, so-called 'Violent wards" differ 
 considerably. Of the worst of them, I say "so-called" out 
 of deference to the doctors who work among the insane. For 
 you will never hear one of them say "\aolent ward." That 
 term offends their sensibilities. They refer to such wards 
 as "excited wards," "strong wards," "back wards," or 
 "disturbed wards." I wish that I might honestly adopt 
 their "perfumed phrases," but I cannot. A "\dolent ward" 
 is not a place where insane patients violently attack their 
 keepers or fellow-patients, except in the rarest of instances, 
 and then, as a rule, only after they have been goaded into a 
 revengeful madness by unremitting cruelty. In a word, 
 a "violent ward" is too often a ward wherein \iolence is 
 done to helpless patients by ignorant, untrained, and un- 
 
 152 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 153 
 
 sympathetic attendants. However, in justice to a consider- 
 able and increasing number of institutions where patients 
 are uniformly treated with consideration, I wish to state 
 that in these well managed hospitals no ward is deserving 
 of the name "violent ward." But this admission only 
 strengthens my contention that it is the character of the 
 attendants in charge of the troublesome cases, and not the 
 disposition of the patients themselves, which makes a ward 
 a "violent ward." 
 
 Even for a "violent ward" my entrance was spectacular 
 — if not dramatic. The three attendants regularly in charge 
 naturally jumped at the conclusion that, in me, a trouble- 
 some patient had been foisted upon them. They noted my 
 arrival with an unpleasant curiosit}", which in turn aroused 
 my curiosity, for it took but a glance to convince me that my 
 burly keepers were typical attendants of the brute-force type. 
 Acting on the order of the doctor in charge, one of these at- 
 tendants stripped me of my outer garments, and, clad in 
 nothing but underclothes, I was thrust into a cell. Few, 
 if any, state prisons in this country contain worse holes than 
 this cell proved to be. It was one of five, situated in a short 
 corridor adjoining the main ward. It was about six feet wide 
 by ten feet long and of a good height. A heavily screened 
 and barred window admitted light and a negligible quantity 
 of air — for the ventilation scarcely deserved the name. The 
 walls and floor were bare, and there w^as no furniture. A 
 patient confined here must he on the floor with no substitute 
 for a bed but one or two felt druggets. Sleeping under such 
 conditions becomes tolerable after a time, but not until one 
 has become accustomed to King on a surface nearly as hard 
 as stone. Here (as well, indeed, as in other parts of the ward) 
 
154 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 for a period of three weeks I was permitted, yes, forced — 
 to breathe and re-breathe air so vitiated that even when I 
 occupied a larger room, doctors and attendants seldom 
 entered without remarking its quality; — this, too, at a, time 
 when the restoration of my physical and mental health es- 
 pecially demanded pure air and plenty of it. My first meal 
 increased my distaste for my semi-sociological experiment. 
 For over a month I was kept in a half-starved condition. At 
 each meal, to be sure, I was given the usual portion of 
 food served to the other patients, but an average portion 
 of such food is not sufficient to repair the prodigal waste of 
 brain and bodily tissue which is symptomatic of elation. 
 
 Worst of all, it was winter, and these, my fijrst quarters, 
 were without heat. As one's olfactory nerves soon become 
 uncommunicative, the breathing of foul air is not a conscious 
 hardship. To be famished the greater part of the time, on 
 the other hand, is a very conscious hardship. But to be 
 half-frozen, day in and day out for a long period, is exqui- 
 site torture. Of all the suffering I endured, that occasioned 
 by confinement in cold cells seems to have made the most 
 lasting impression. Hunger is a local disturbance, but when 
 one is cold every nerve in the body registers its call for help. 
 Long before reading a certain passage of De Quincey's I had 
 decided that cold could cause greater suffering than hunger; 
 consequently, it was with great satisfaction that I read the 
 following sentences from his "Confessions": "O ancient 
 women, daughters of toil and suffering, among all the hard- 
 ships and bitter inheritances of flesh that ye are called upon to 
 face, not one — not even hunger — seems in my eyes compar- 
 able to that of nightly cold. ... A more killing curse there 
 does not exist for man or woman than the bitter combat be- 
 tween the weariness that prompts sleep and the keen, search- 
 ing cold that forces you from that first access of sleep to start 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 155 
 
 up horror-stricken, and to seek warmth vainly in renewed 
 exercise, though long since fainting under fatigue." 
 
 The hardness of the bed and the coldness of the room were 
 not all that interfered with sleep. The short corridor in 
 which I was placed was known as the "Bull Pen" — a 
 phrase eschewed by the doctors.^ It is so called, I suppose, 
 because it is usually in an uproar — especially during the 
 dark hours of the early morning. Patients in a state of 
 excitement may sleep during the first hours of the night, but 
 seldom all night, and even should one have the capacity to 
 do so, his companions in durance would wake him up with a 
 shout, or a song, or a curse, or the kicking of a door. A 
 noisy and chaotic medley frequently continues without inter- 
 ruption for hours at a time. Noise, unearthly noise, is the 
 poetic license allowed the occupants of these cells. I spent 
 several days and nights in one or another of the cells of the 
 "Bull Pen" and I question whether I averaged more than 
 two or three hours' sleep a night during that time. Seldom do 
 the regular attendants pay any attention to the noise, though 
 even they must at times be disturbed by it. In fact the only 
 person likely to attempt to stop it is the night-watch, who, 
 when he does enter a cell for that purpose, invariably kicks or 
 chokes the noisy patient into a state of temporary quiet. I 
 noted this and scented trouble. 
 
 Drawing and writing materials having been again taken 
 from me, I cast about for some new occupation. As soon 
 
 1 The term "Bull Pen" has many meanings. It is perhaps, more com- 
 monly applied to walled-in or fenced-in enclosures where insane patients 
 may be herded together, and, at a minimum of effort on the part of those in 
 authority, be given deceptive and anything but beneficial tastes of such re- 
 stricted liberty as must, of necessity, fall to the lot of the insane. The more 
 efBcient superintendents of our hospitals for the insane condemn the use of 
 " Bull Pens," and are able to do without them simply by turning the patients 
 loose within a given and generous area and placing attendants on guard to 
 preserve order and prevent escapes. 
 
156 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 as I was transferred to a room with a bed, I found an occu- 
 pation in the problem of warmth. Though I gave repeated 
 expression to the benumbed messages of my tortured nerves, 
 the doctor refused to return my clothes. For a semblance 
 of warmth I was forced to depend upon ordinary undergar- 
 ments and an extraordinary imagination. The heavy felt 
 druggets were about as plastic as blotting paper and I de- 
 rived little comfort from them until I hit upon the idea of 
 rending them into strips. These strips I would weave into a 
 crude Rip Van Winkle sort of suit; and so intricate was the 
 warp and woof thereof that the attendant had to cut me out 
 of it each morning. At first, until I acquired the destruc- 
 tive knack, the tearing of one drugget into strips was a task 
 of four or five hours. But in time I became so proficient 
 that I could completely destroy two, sometimes three, of 
 these six-by-eight druggets in a single night. During the 
 following weeks of my close confinement I destroyed more 
 than twenty of these druggets, each worth about four 
 dollars; — and I confess, I found a peculiar satisfaction in 
 the destruction of property belonging to a State which had 
 deprived me of all my effects — except underclothes. But 
 my destructiveness was due to a variety of causes. It was 
 occasioned primarily by a "pressure of activity," for which 
 the tearing of druggets served as._a-,v^nt. A phrase used by 
 me in a letter written during my first month of elation aptly 
 describes my condition at this time. Said I, in that letter, 
 "I'm as busy as a nest of ants." That my energy should 
 direct itself toward the only destructible objects at hand — 
 the druggets — was not surprising; nor was it surprising 
 that I found a use for the strips, for, as I have already 
 proved, an insane person's acts are often purposeful. 
 Though the habit of tearing druggets was the outgrowth 
 of an «tlTi«sij»l impulse, the habit itself lasted longer than 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 157 
 
 it could have done had I not, for so long a time, been 
 deprived of suitable clothes and been held a prisoner in cold 
 cells. But another motive soon asserted itself. Being de- 
 prived of all the luxuries of life and most of the necessities, 
 my mother-wit, always conspiring with a wild imagination 
 for something to occupy my time, led me at last to invade 
 the field of invention. With appropriate contrariety an 
 unfamiliar and, by me, hitherto almost detested line of in- 
 vestigation now attracted me. Abstruse mathematical 
 problems which had defied solution for centuries began to 
 appear easy. To defy the State and its puny representatives 
 had become mere child's play, so I forthwith decided to 
 overcome no less a force than gravity itself. 
 
 My conquering imagination soon tricked me into believ- 
 ing that I could lift myself by my boot-straps — or rather 
 that I should do so when my laboratory should contain foot- 
 gear that lent itself to the experiment. But what of the 
 strips of felt torn from the druggets? Why, these I used as 
 the straps of my missing boots ; and having no boots to stand 
 in I used my bed as boots. I reasoned that for my scien- 
 tific purpose a man in bed was as favorably situated as 
 a man in boots. Therefore, attaching a sufiicient number 
 of my felt strips to the head and foot of the bed, and, in 
 turn, attaching the free ends to the transom and the 
 window-guard, I found the rest very simple. For, next, 
 I joined these cloth cables in such manner that by pulling 
 downward I effected a re-adjustment of stress and strain, 
 and my bed, with me in it, was soon dangling in space. My 
 sensations at this momentous instant must have been much 
 like those which thrilled Newton when he solved one of 
 the riddles of the universe. Indeed, they must have been 
 more intense, for Newton, knowing, had his doubts; I, not 
 knowing, had no doubts at all. So epoch-making did this 
 
158 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 discovery appear to me that I noted the exact position of the 
 bed so that a wondering posterity might ever afterward 
 view and reverence the exact spot on the earth's sur- 
 face whence one of man's greatest thoughts had winged its 
 way to immortality. 
 
 For weeks I beheved I had uncovered a mechanical prin- 
 ciple which would enable man to defy gravity. And I talked 
 freely and confidently about it. That is, I proclaimed the 
 impending results. The intermediate steps in the solution 
 of my problem I ignored — for good reasons. A blind man 
 may harness a horse. So long as the horse is harnessed one 
 need not know the office of each strap and buckle. Grav- 
 ity was harnessed — that was all. At the proper time I 
 should reveal my secret in detail. Meanwhile I felt sure 
 that another sublime moment of inspiration would intervene 
 and clear the atmosphere, thus rendering flight of the body 
 as easy as a flight of imagination. 
 
XX 
 
 While my inventive operations were in progress I was 
 chafing under a sense of the injustice of the unsanitary and 
 certainly unscientific treatment to which I was being sub- 
 jected. In spite of my close confinement in vile cells, for a 
 period of over three weeks I was denied a bath. I do 
 not regret this deprivation, for the attendants, who at the 
 beginning were unfriendly, might have forced me to bathe in 
 water which had first served for several other patients. 
 Though such an unsanitary and disgusting practice was 
 contrary to rules, it was often indulged in by the lazy 
 brutes who controlled the ward. Investigation has con- 
 vinced me that this evil is widespread. 
 
 I continued to object to the unsatisfactory portions of food 
 served me, and perhaps my objections were intensified by an 
 approaching Thanksgiving. My projected Thanksgiving 
 trip to New Haven had vanished from my mind, and my 
 actual experience on that day was in dismal contrast to 
 what I had originally planned for myself. My attendant, 
 in the unaccustomed guise of a ministering angel, brought 
 me the usual turkey and cranberry dinner which, on two of 
 the three hundred and sixty-five days of each year, is pro- 
 vided by an intermittently generous State. Turkey being 
 the rara avis of the imprisoned, it was but natural that I 
 should desire to gratify a palate long insulted. I wished not 
 only to satisfy my appetite but to impress indelibly a mem- 
 ory which for months had not responded to so agreeable a 
 stimulus. While lingering over the delights of this experi- 
 
 159 
 
l6o A MIND THAT FOXJND ITSELF 
 
 ence I forgot all about the ministering angel. But not for 
 long. He soon returned. Observing that I had scarcely 
 touched my feast he said, "If you don't eat that dinner 
 in a hurry I'll take it from you." 
 
 "I don't see what difference it makes to you whether I 
 eat it in a hurry or take my time about it," said I. "It's 
 the best I've had in many a day, and I have a right to get as 
 paiich pleasure out of it as I can." 
 
 1 "We'll see about that," said he, and, snatching it away, he 
 y stalked out of the room, leaving me to satisfy my hunger on the 
 / memory of vanished luxuries. Thus did a feast become a fast. 
 ^ Under this treatment I soon learned to be more noisy 
 than my neighbors. I was never without a certain humor 
 in contemplating not only my surroundings, but myself; 
 and the demonstrations in which I began to indulge were 
 partly in fun and partly by way of protest. In these I was 
 assisted, and, at times inspired, by a young man in the room 
 next mine. He was about my own age and was enjoying 
 the same phase of exuberance as myself. Not realizing 
 that most of our ward-mates were less mad than we — or 
 than we were supposed to be — we talked and sang at all 
 hours of the night. At the time we believed that the other 
 patients enjoyed the spice which we added to the restricted 
 variety of their lives, but later I learned that a majority of 
 them looked upon us as mere nuisances. 
 
 We gave the doctors and attendants no rest — at least 
 not intentionally. Whenever the assistant physician ap- 
 peared we upbraided him for the neglect which was 
 then our portion. At one time or another we got ourselves 
 banished to the "Bull Pen" for these indiscretions. Had 
 there been a viler place of confinement still, our perform- 
 ances in the "Bull Pen" undoubtedly would have brought 
 us to it. But there was neither justice nor remedial effect 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF i6i 
 
 in such procedure. At last the doctor hit upon the expedient 
 of transferring me to a room more remote from my inspir- 
 ing, and, I may say, conspiring companion. Talking to 
 each other ceased to be the easy pastime it had been; 
 so we gradually lapsed into a comparative silence which 
 must have proved a boon to our ward-mates. The only 
 annoyances to which a number of the patients were now 
 subjected during the night were the disturbing noises which 
 issued with irregularity, but unfortunate certainty, from the 
 "Bull Pen." 
 
 On several occasions I perfected plans to escape, — and not 
 only that but also to liberate others. That I did not make 
 the attempt was the fault — or merit, perhaps — of a certain 
 night-watch, whose timidity, rather than sagacity, impelled 
 him to refuse to unlock my door early one morning, although 
 I gave him a plausible reason for the request. This night- 
 watch, I learned later, admitted that he feared to encounter 
 me single-handed. And on this particular occasion well 
 might he, for, during the night, I had woven a spider-web 
 net, in which I intended to enmesh him. Had I succeeded 
 there would have been a lively hour for him in the violent 
 ward — had I failed there would have been a Hvely hour 
 for me. There were several comparatively sane patients 
 (especially my elated neighbor) whose willing assistance I 
 could have secured. Then the regular attendants could 
 have been held prisoners in their own room, if, indeed, we had 
 not in turn overpowered them and transferred them to the 
 "Bull Pen" where the several victims of their abuse might 
 have given them a deserved dose of their own medicine. 
 This scheme of mine was a prank rather than a plot. I had 
 an inordinate desire to prove that one could escape if he had 
 a mind to do so. Later I boasted to the assistant physician 
 of my unsuccessful attempt to escape. 
 
1 62 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 My punishment for harmless antics of this sort was prompt 
 in coming. The attendants seemed to think their whole 
 duty to their closely confined charges consisted in delivering 
 three meals a day. Between meals he was a rash patient 
 who interfered with their leisure. Now one of my greatest 
 crosses was the attendants' continued refusal to give me a 
 drink when I asked for it. Except at meals, or on those rare 
 occasions when I was permitted to go to the wash-room, I 
 had to get along as best I might with no water, and that too 
 at a time when I was in a fever of excitement. My polite 
 requests were ignored; impolite demands were answered 
 with threats and curses. And this war of requests, demands, 
 threats, and curses continued until the night of the fourth 
 day of my banishment. Then the attendants made good 
 their threats of assault. That they had been trying to goad 
 me into a fighting mood I well knew, and often accused 
 them of their mean purpose. They brazenly admitted that 
 they were simply waiting for a chance to "slug" me, and 
 promised to punish me well as soon as I should give them 
 a slight excuse for doing so. 
 
 On the night of November 25th, 1902, the head attendant 
 and one of his assistants passed my door. They were re- 
 turning from one of the dances which, at intervals during 
 the winter, the management provides for the attaches. 
 While they were within hearing I asked for a drink of water. 
 It was a carefully worded request. But they were in a hurry 
 to get to bed, and refused me with curses. Then I replied 
 in kind. 
 
 "If I come there I'll kill you," said one of the attendants. 
 
 "Well, you won't get in if I can help it," said I, as I braced 
 my iron bedstead against the door. 
 
 My defiance and defences gave the attendants the pre- 
 text for which they had been waiting; and my success in 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 163 
 
 keeping them out for two or three minutes only served to 
 enrage them. By the time they had gained entrance they 
 had become furies. One of the attendants was a young man 
 of twenty-seven. Physically he was a perfect specimen of 
 manhood ; morally he was deficient, — thanks to the de- 
 humanizing eifect of several years in the employ of different 
 States of the Union which countenance improper methods 
 in the care of their insane wards. It was he who attacked 
 me in the dark of my prison room. The head attendant 
 stood by, holding a lantern which shed a dim light. 
 
 The door once open, I offered no further resistance. First 
 I was knocked down. Then for several minutes I was 
 kicked around the room — struck, kneed and choked. My 
 assailant even attempted to grind his heel into my cheek. 
 In this he failed, for I was there protected by a heavy beard. 
 But my shins, elbows, and back were cut by his heavy 
 shoes; and had I not instinctively drawn up my knees to my 
 elbows for the protection of my body I should have been 
 seriously, perhaps fatally, injured. As it was, I was severely 
 cut and bruised. When my strength was nearly gone I 
 feigned unconsciousness. This ruse alone saved me from 
 further punishment, for no premeditated assault is ever 
 ended until the patient is mute and helpless. When they 
 had accomplished their purpose, they left me huddled in a 
 corner to wear out the night as best I might — to live or 
 
 Idie for all they cared. 
 
 ' Strange as it may seem I slept well. But not at once. 
 
 • Within five minutes I was busily engaged writing an account 
 of the assault. A trained war-correspondent could not have 
 pulled himself together in less time. As usual I had re- 
 course to my bit of contraband lead pencil — this time a 
 pencil which had been smuggled to me the very first day of 
 my confinement in the BuU Pen by a sympathetic feUow- 
 
l64 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 patient. When he had pushed under my cell door that little 
 implement of war it had loomed as large in my mind as a 
 battering-ram. Paper I had none; but I had previously 
 found walls to be a fair substitute. I therefore now selected 
 and wrote upon a rectangular spot — about three feet by 
 two — which marked the reflection of a light in the 
 corridor just without my transom. Among my collection 
 of genuine human documents I still have a verbatim copy 
 of my midnight inscription. 
 
 The next morning when the assistant physician appeared 
 he was accompanied as usual by the guilty head-attendant 
 who, on the previous night, had held the lantern during his 
 vicious partner's assault. 
 
 "Doctor," said I, "I have something to tell you," — and 
 I glanced significantly at the attendant. "Last night I had 
 a most imusual experience. I have had many imaginary 
 experiences during the past two years and a half, and it may 
 be that last night's was not real. Perhaps the whole thing 
 was phantasmagoric — like what I used to see during the 
 first months of my illness. Whether it was so or not I shall 
 leave you to judge. It just happens to be my impression 
 that I was brutally assaulted last night. If it was a dream 
 it is the first thing of the kind that ever left visible evidence 
 on my body." 
 
 With that I uncovered to the doctor a score of bruises and 
 lacerations. I knew these would be more impressive than 
 any words of mine. The doctor looked wise, but said 
 nothing and soon left the room. The guilty attendant tried 
 to appear unconcerned, and I really believe he thought me 
 not absolutely sure of the events of the previous night, or at 
 least unaware of his share in them. 
 
 Though the doctor in his own mind knew that I had been 
 abused, he was unable to secure incriminating evidence 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 165 
 
 from the attendants. They of course lied for their mutual 
 protection. They were too wise to deny that they had en- 
 tered my room, but the reasons they gave for entering and 
 their account of what followed were cut from the black cloth 
 with which cowards habitually cloak their shame. Of all 
 the liars in the world, brute attendants are, to my mind, 
 the meanest. They first assault an imprisoned insane man 
 when there are no sane eyes or ears to bear witness. Then, 
 taking advantage of the suspicion with which the statements 
 of the insane are too often regarded, they lie and lie, and 
 corroborate their lies according to the code of dishonor which 
 obtains among them. A fair idea of this code may be gained 
 from one of its rules; namely, that an attendant shall delib- 
 erately turn his back when another attendant is assaulting 
 a patient. By so doing the attendant is of course able to 
 tell the doctor — should he by some rare chance ask — that 
 he saw no patient struck by the accused. By telling these 
 half-truths, attendants are able to retain their positions 
 for months, sometimes years, — but only in institutions where 
 "Restraint" is countenanced. 
 
 The two attendants in my case deserved immediate dis- 
 charge. They could not offer the excuse of self-defense, for 
 they had to unlock the door to get within my reach. In my 
 opinion the doctor was at fault both before and after. Surely, 
 my wounds should have had more weight with him than the 
 palpable lies of those who inflicted them. — 
 
 I soon found that usually a restless or troublesome patient 
 placed in the violent ward is assaulted the very first day. This 
 procedure seems to be a part of the established code of dis- 
 honor. The attendants imagine that the best way to gain 
 control of a patient is to cow him from the first. In fact, 
 these fellows — nearly all of them ignorant and untrained — 
 will tell you that "violent cases" cannot be handled in any 
 
i66 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 other way. And in so saying they are often sincere. I recall 
 the advent of a new attendant, — a young man studying to 
 become a physician. At first he seemed inclined to treat 
 patients kindly, but he soon fell into brutal ways. His 
 change of heart was due partly to the brutalizing envi- 
 ronment, but more directly to the attitude of the three 
 hardened attendants who mistook his consideration for cow- 
 ardice and taunted him for it. Just to prove his metal he 
 began to assault patients, and one day knocked me down 
 simply for refusing to stop my prattle at his command. I 
 did not openly resent his action, for I knew that I should 
 only be unmercifully beaten for my temerity. By this time 
 I had learned the uselessness of physical resistance. For 
 comfort I dwelt upon the thought that I should one day 
 deal a death blow to the whole inhuman system which had 
 dealt so many death blows to the helpless insane. 
 
 I found also that an unnecessary and continued lack of 
 out-door exercise tends to multiply deeds of violence. The 
 attendants are supposed to take the patients for a walk 
 at least once a day, and twice, when the weather permits. 
 Yet the patients in the violent ward (and it is they who most 
 need the exercise) usually get out of doors only when the 
 attendants see fit to take them. For weeks a ward-mate — 
 a man sane enough to enjoy freedom, had he had a home of 
 his own — kept a record of the number of our walks. It 
 showed that we averaged not more than one or two a week 
 for a period of two months. This too in the face of many 
 pleasant days which made the close confinement doubly 
 irksome. The attendants preferred to remain in the ward, 
 playing cards, smoking, and telling their kind of stories. 
 One other fact I observed; namely, that as exercise de- 
 creased the number of assaults invariably increased. The 
 attendants need regular exercise quite as much as the patients 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 167 
 
 and when they fail to employ their energy in this healthful 
 way, they are likely to employ it at the expense of the bodUy 
 comfort of their helpless charges. It was only because 
 of a lax system of supervision that they were able thus to 
 shirk their duty. Daily reports as to the exercising of 
 patients would correct this common evil. 
 
 If lack of exercise produced a need of discipline, on the 
 other hand each disciplinary move served only to inflame 
 us the more. Some wild animals can be clubbed into a sem- 
 blance of obedience, yet it is a treacherous obedience at best, 
 and justly so. And that is the only kind of obedience into 
 which a man can be clubbed. To imagine otherwise of a 
 human being, sane or insane, is the very essence of insanity 
 itself. A temporary leisure may be won for the aggressor, 
 but, in the long run, he will be put to greater inconvenience 
 than he would be by a more humane method. It was repres- 
 sion and wilful frustration which kept me a maniac and 
 made maniacs of others. Whenever I was released from lock 
 and key and permitted to mingle with the so-called violent pa- 
 tients, I was surprised to find that comparatively few were by 
 nature troublesome or noisy. So that I am convinced that 
 hundreds of patients throughout the country are improperly 
 confined in violent wards. This is a serious matter; for, it is 
 relatively as unfair to confine the mildly insane among mad- 
 men as to immure the sane among the insane. A patient, 
 calm in mind and passive in behavior three hundred and sixty 
 days in the year, may, on one of the remaining days, commit 
 some slight transgression, or, more likely, be goaded into 
 one by an attendant — or needlessly led into one by a 
 tactless physician. At once he is banished to the violent 
 ward, there to remain for weeks — perhaps indefinitely. His 
 indiscretion may consist merely in an unmannerly announce- 
 ment to the doctor of how lightly the latter is regarded by 
 
1 68 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 the patient. Such estimates of a doctor's capacity, though 
 insane, are frequently correct, and proportionately galling, 
 and their truth, the subject of them invariably proves by 
 condemning the guilty patient to a term of imprisonment in 
 a ward of chaos. A thoroughly competent physician is 
 seldom vilified; — for, being competent, he is able to win 
 the good-will of his wards, and, should he occasionally be 
 consigned to oblivion by an excited patient, he disregards 
 the matter, knowing full well that the mouth is but the escape- 
 L valve of an abnormally active mind. 
 
XXI 
 
 The self-control which had enabled me to suspend speech 
 for a whole day now stood me in good stead. It enabled 
 me to avert much suffering that would have been my portion 
 had I been like the majority of my ward-mates. Time and 
 again I surrendered when an attendant was about to chas- 
 tise me. But at least a score of patients in this ward were 
 not so well equipped, and these were viciously assaulted again 
 and again by the very men who had so thoroughly initiated 
 me into the mysteries of their black art. 
 
 I set myself up as the observer and the reporter of abuses. 
 My observations convinced me of an anomaly; namely, that 
 the only patients in a hospital for the insane who are not 
 likely to be subjected to abuse are the very ones least in need 
 of care and treatment. The violent, noisy, and troublesome 
 patient is abused because he is violent, noisy, and trouble- 
 some. The patient too weak physically or mentally to 
 attend to his own wants is frequently abused because of that 
 very helplessness which makes it necessary for the attend- 
 ants to wait upon him. And so of the forty men in the vio- 
 lent ward during my fourteen weeks of confinement there, 
 at least twenty were at one time or another viciously beaten 
 by some one of the three attendants, frequently by two at once. 
 
 Like fires and railroad disasters, assaults seem to come 
 in groups. Sometimes days will pass without a single out- 
 break. Then will come a veritable carnival of abuse — 
 due invariably to the attendants' state of mind, not to an 
 unwonted aggressiveness on the part of the patients. The 
 
 169 
 
I70 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 beatings which, by reason of my superior discretion, I escaped 
 scarcely diminished the sum of punishment. I can recall 
 as especially noteworthy ten instances of atrocious abuse. 
 Five patients were chronic victims, beaten frequently as I 
 was on that night when two attendants broke into my room. 
 Three of them, peculiarly irresponsible, suffered with es- 
 pecial regularity, scarcely a day passing without bringing 
 to them its quota of punishment. One of these, almost an 
 idiot, and quite too inarticulate to tell a convincing story 
 even under the most favorable conditions, became so cowed 
 that, whenever an attendant passed, he would circle his 
 oppressor as a whipped cur circles a cruel master. I saw 
 him do so time and again. If his avoidance became too 
 marked the attendant would then and there chastise him for 
 the implied but unconscious insult. 
 
 There was a young man, occupying a cell next to mine in 
 the Bull Pen, who was so far out of his mind as to be abso- 
 lutely irresponsible. His offense was that he could not 
 comprehend and obey. Compared to his abuse, all that I 
 suffered in the Bull Pen was as nothing. Day after day I 
 could hear the blows and kicks as they fell upon his body, 
 and his incoherent cries for mercy were as painful to hear 
 as they are impossible to forget. That he survived and to-day 
 is dragging out an existence in an asylum, is surprising. It 
 is true, I believe, that his form of insanity is considered 
 incurable ; but that is an additional consideration in favor of 
 kind treatment. 
 
 What wonder that this man who was "violent," or who was 
 made violent, would not permit the attendants to dress him ! 
 But he had a half-witted friend, a ward-mate, who could 
 coax him into his clothes during the time when his oppres- 
 sors found him most intractable. STe« an insane man 
 can distinguish between friend and foe. ' .i\. 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 17 1 
 
 Of all the patients known to me, one incoherent and irre- 
 sponsible man of sixty years I saw assaulted with the great- 
 est frequency. This patient was restless and forever 
 talking or shouting, as any man might if oppressed by his 
 delusions. He was profoundly convinced that a certain 
 person had stolen his stomach — an idea inspired perhaps 
 by the remarkable corpulency of the person he accused. His 
 loss he would wofully voice even while eating. Of course, 
 argument to the contrary had no effect; and his monotonous 
 recital of his imaginary troubles made him unpopular with 
 the attendants. They showed him no mercy. Each day 
 — including the hours of the night, when the night-watch 
 took a hand — he was belabored with fists, broom-handles, 
 and frequently with the heavy bunch of keys which attend- 
 ants usually carry on a long chain. He was kicked and 
 choked, and his suffering was aggravated by his almost 
 continuous confinement in the Bull Pen. An exception to 
 the general rule (for such continued abuse often causes 
 death) this man lived a long time — five years. 
 
 Another victim, forty-five years of age, was one who had 
 formerly been a successful man of affairs. His was a force- 
 ful personality, and the traits of his sane days influenced 
 his conduct when he became insane. He was in the expan- 
 sive phase of paresis, a phase distinguished by an exaggerated 
 sense of well-being — for delusions of grandeur are a symp- 
 tom of this form as well as of several other forms of insanity. 
 Paresis, as everyone knows, is incurable. Its victim is 
 doomed — death usually following within three years of 
 the onset of the disease. In this instance, instead of 
 trying to make the patient's last months on earth comfort- 
 able, the attendants subjected him to a course of treatment 
 severe enough to have sent even a sound man to an early 
 grave. I endured privations and severe abuse for one month 
 
172 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 at the State Hospital. This man suffered in all ways worse 
 treatment for many months — until finally he was trans- 
 ferred to a ward where he received kinder treatment. He 
 still lives, — another example of man's endurance, 
 
 I became well acquainted with two jovial and witty Irish- 
 men. They were common laborers. One was a hod-carrier, 
 and a strapping fellow. When he arrived at the institution 
 he was suffering with alcoholic delusional insanity — a cur- 
 able form. He was at once placed in the violent ward, 
 though his "violence" consisted of nothing more than an an- 
 noying sort of irresponsibility. He irritated the attendants 
 by persistently doing certain trivial things after they had 
 been forbidden. For instance, the door to a certain room 
 he would open and re-open, undoubtedly in response to "false 
 voices" which perhaps commanded him to do so. The at- 
 tendants made no allowance for his condition of mind. His 
 repetition of a forbidden act was interpreted as deliberate 
 disobedience. He was physically powerful, and they deter- 
 mined to cow him. Of the master assault by which this was 
 sought to be accomplished I was not an eye-witness. But 
 I was an ear-witness. It was committed behind a closed 
 door; and I heard the dull thuds of the blows, and I heard 
 the cries for mercy until there was no breath left the man with 
 which he could beg even for his life. For days, that wrecked 
 Hercules dragged himself about the ward moaning pitifully. 
 He complained of pain in his side and had difficulty in 
 breathing, which would seem to indicate that some of his 
 ribs had been fractured. This man was often punished, 
 frequently for complaining of the torture already inflicted. 
 But later, when he began to return to the normal, his good- 
 humor and native wit won for him an increasing degree of 
 good treatment. 
 
 The other Irishman's arch offense — a symptom of his 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 173 
 
 disease — was that he gabbled incessantly. He could no 
 more stop talking than he could right his reason on com- 
 mand. Yet his failure to become silent at a word was the 
 signal for punishment. On one occasion an attendant or- 
 dered him to stop talking and take a seat at the further end 
 of the corridor, about forty feet distant. He was doing his 
 best to obey, even running to keep ahead of the attendant at 
 his heels. As they passed the spot where I was sitting, the 
 attendant felled him with a blow behind the ear; and, in 
 falhng, the patient's head barely missed the wall. 
 
 Addressing me, the attendant said, "Did you see that?" 
 
 "Yes," I rephed, "and I'll not forget it." 
 
 "Be sure to report it to the doctor," said he — a remark 
 which showed his contempt, not only for me but for those in 
 authority; and this contempt the latter at least had earned 
 by their leniency and indifference. 
 
 The reader will already have observed that the years of the 
 patient are no protection. The attendant who had so terribly 
 beaten me was particularly flagrant in ignoring the claims 
 of age. On more than one occasion he viciously attacked 
 a man of over fifty, who, because of his affliction (paresis) 
 was virtually a man of seventy. He was a Yankee sailing- 
 master, who, in his prime, could have thrashed his assailant 
 with ease and thrown him into the sea. But now he was 
 helpless and could only submit. However, this man was 
 not utterly abandoned by his old world. His wife called 
 often to see him; and, because of his condition, she was per- 
 mitted to visit him in his room. Once she arrived in the 
 nick of time — a few hours after her husband had been 
 cruelly beaten. Naturally she asked the attendants how he 
 had come by the hurts — the blackened eye and bruised 
 head. True to the code, they lied, and declared that the 
 patient had fallen out of bed, or stumbled against the wall. 
 
174 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 The good wife, perhaps herself a Yankee, was not thus to be 
 fooled ; and her growing belief that her husband had been as- 
 saulted was confirmed by a sight she saw before her visit 
 was ended. Another patient — a Frenchman, who was a 
 target for abuse — was knocked fiat two or three times as 
 he was roughly forced along the corridor by an attendant. 
 I saw this little affair and I saw that the good wife saw it. 
 The next day she called again and took her husband home. 
 And so this distressed woman felt it her duty to assume en- 
 tire charge of her mad and really dangerous husband. The 
 result was that after a few (probably sleepless) nights, she 
 had to return him to the asylum and trust to God rather than 
 the State to protect him. 
 
 Still another victim was a man sixty years of age. He 
 was quite inoffensive, and no patient in the ward seemed 
 to attend more strictly to his own business. Shortly after 
 my transfer from the violent ward this old man was wantonly 
 attacked by an attendant who broke the patient's arm. 
 The attendant (the man who had so viciously assaulted 
 me) was summarily discharged. Unfortunately, however, 
 the relief afforded the insane was slight and brief, for this 
 same brute (as I have since ascertained) soon secured a 
 position in an asylum a thousand miles distant, where, no 
 doubt, he continues to indulge his base proclivities. 
 
 Death by violence in a violent ward is after all not an un- 
 natural death — for a violent ward. The patient of whom 
 I am about to speak was also an old man — over sixty. Both 
 physically and mentally he was a wreck. On being brought 
 to the institution he was at once placed in a cell in the Bull 
 Pen, probably because of his previous history for violence 
 while delirious at his own home. But his violence (if it 
 ever existed) had already spent itself, and had come to be 
 nothing more than an utter incapacity to obey. His offense 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 175 
 
 was that he was too weak to attend to his common wants. 
 The day after this patient's arrival, shortly before noon, 
 he lay stark naked and helpless upon the bed in his cell. 
 This I know, for I went to investigate immediately after a 
 ward-mate had informed me of the vicious way in which 
 the head- attendant had assaulted the sick man. My in- 
 formant was a man whose word regarding an incident of 
 this character I would take as readily as that of any man I 
 know. He came to me, knowing that I had taken upon 
 myself the duty of reporting such abominations. My in- 
 formant feared to take the initiative, for, like many other 
 patients who believe themselves doomed to continued con- 
 finement, he feared to invite abuse at the hands of revengeful 
 attendants. I therefore promised him that I would report 
 the case as soon as I had an opportimity. 
 
 All day long the victim of the attendant's unmanly passion 
 lay in his cell in what seemed to be a semi-conscious con- 
 dition. I took particular pains to observe his condition, for 
 I felt that the assault of the morning might result in death. 
 That night, after the doctor's regular tour of inspection, the 
 patient in question was transferred to a room next my own. 
 The mode of transfer impressed itself upon my memory. 
 Two attendants — one of them was he who had so brutally 
 beaten the patient — placed the man in a sheet and, each 
 taking an end, carried the hammock-like contrivance, with 
 its inert contents, to what proved to be its last resting-place 
 above ground. Though I cannot say that the patient's 
 body slid or struck against the floor as the attendants pro- 
 ceeded, the chances are that men who could assault the help- 
 less would not be likely to guard against that possibility. 
 At least I noted this: the attendants seemed as much con- 
 cerned about their burden as one might about a dog in a 
 sack, weighted and ready for the river. 
 
176 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 That night the patient died. Whether he was murdered 
 none can ever know. But it is my honest opinion that he 
 was. Though he might never have recovered, it is plain 
 that he would have lived days, perhaps months. And, had 
 he been humanely, nay, scientifically, treated, who can say 
 that he might not have been restored to health and home, and 
 to-day be enjoying life as is the man who had perhaps 
 murdered him. 
 
 According to the hospital records this death was not other 
 than a natural death. No autopsy was performed, which 
 fact, in itself, shows that the doctors did not suspect that the 
 patient had been maltreated; for it is customary to perform 
 autopsies when incriminating evidence of abuse is discov- 
 ered. But, had there been an autopsy, revealing guilt, — 
 what then? In all probability, no arrests would have been 
 made, as hospital officials know how difficult it is to secure 
 evidence sufficient to convict. Conceding that it is difficult 
 to secure such ei-idence, I will not admit that rigorous and 
 intelligent action on the part of those in authority would never 
 result in the conviction of attendants guilty of assault or 
 murder; much less will I admit that the neglect of such ac- 
 tion, even if uncertain of success, is ever excusable. Hos- 
 pital officials, public prosecutors, and jurors, should bear in 
 mind that, at trials for such crimes, the word of a patient, 
 sane enough to testify at all, should have greater weight than 
 the word of an attendant whose self-interest or cowardice 
 will so often cause him to perjure himself. Further, those 
 whose duty it is to apprehend and punish criminals should 
 remember that there are to be found in every institution 
 attendants possessed of a high sense of honor. These will 
 not hesitate, under right conditions, to testify against a 
 guilty co-worker. 
 
 It is to an attendant of this type that I shall look for con- 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 177 
 
 vincing corroboration. His is the same story as mine, though 
 told of a different institution. I resort to it here at the cost 
 of digression; for, though I believe my statements alone will 
 convince the average reader, surely the corroborating words 
 of a man always sane will put my story beyond suspicion, and 
 at the same time show that attendants placed under similar 
 brutalizing conditions, the country over, will behave similarly. 
 
 While this book was still in draft, I came, by mere chance, 
 upon a report which appeared in the Courier- Journal of 
 Louisville, Kentucky, of the date, September i8th, 1906. It 
 was written by a young lawyer, a resident of Lexington. 
 This man, during the early summer of 1906, had worked as 
 an attendant in the Eastern Kentucky Asylum for the In- 
 sane, at Lexington. He was impelled to enter the hospital 
 as an attendant by the belief that a knowledge of insanity 
 might prove of value when he should engage in the practice 
 of law. He did not enter the employ of the State with the 
 thought of effecting reform, for the simple reason, as he 
 told me afterwards, that he was totally ignorant of the neces- 
 sity for reform. The evil conditions he discovered shocked 
 him quite as much as his revelations later shocked an igno- 
 rant public. 
 
 There was a homicide connected with this Kentucky affair. 
 The victim was a man thirty-seven years of age. Prior to 
 his collapse he had held a responsible position in a large 
 rolling-mill. Working by day in the exhausting heat of a 
 blast-furnace, and at night nursing a sick wife, he finally 
 lost his reason. He was at once committed to the State 
 Hospital. Had he received the treatment he deserved, prob- 
 ably he would have recovered, for his form of insanity was 
 curable. But punishment, not treatment, was to be his cruel 
 portion. It was administered with such severity that he 
 died. This fact was proved at the trial of the guiltiest at- 
 13 
 
178 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 tendant, who, together with another attendant, was convicted 
 of manslaughter and sent to State's Prison. Had they killed 
 a sane person, I believe they would now be serving Hfe-sen- 
 tences, if, indeed, they had not been justly condemned to 
 death. 
 
 Another instance of this sort of homicide occurred in 
 Vermont. An infirm old man, eighty years of age, was wan- 
 tonly attacked and killed by two attendants within a week of 
 his commitment. He was a French- Canadian whose under- 
 standing of English had been none too good while he was 
 sane. When his skill in a foreign tongue had been further 
 impaired by a clouded understanding, he was of course 
 doubly helpless. Failing to obey the command of an attend- 
 ant with that promptness which conduces to personal safety, 
 he was attacked and struck with such force that several ribs 
 were broken. The shock of it all caused his death. The 
 attendants were indicted for manslaughter, and placed under 
 bonds of eighteen hundred dollars each. When called to 
 trial the more culpable of the two, rather than risk his 
 liberty, forfeited his bond and, as this book goes to press, 
 has not yet been apprehended. The other attendant ap- 
 peared, but, thus far, has not been tried. That men guilty 
 of such brutality should be given an opportunity to purchase 
 their freedom by forfeiting a small bond is simply another of 
 the many injustices legally imposed upon the insane.^ 
 
 The young man who was for a time my neighbor in the 
 violent ward, and my companion in mischief, was also 
 
 ^ Readers of "Hard Cash" may not be familiar with the public corre- 
 spondence into which it drew its author, Charles Reade. His letter of Jan- 
 uary 17th, 1870, in the Pa// Mall Gazette, shows how the ribs of insane patients 
 could be and were broken by brutal keepers with such fiendish skill as even to 
 leave no external evidence on the body of the victim; and that letter shows 
 also how prevalent then were atrocities of the kind I have been describing, 
 and how easy it was for their perpetrators to escape punishment. 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 179 
 
 terribly abused. This man possessed a distinctive and inter- 
 esting personality. To-day, could I enjoy his companion- 
 ship, I should rank him high on my list of those whose 
 companionship I crave. I am sure I do not exaggerate when 
 I say that on ten occasions, within a period of two months, 
 this man was cruelly assaulted — and I do not know how 
 many times he suffered assaults of less severity. After one 
 of these doses of immerited punishment I asked him why he 
 persisted in his petty transgressions when he knew that he 
 thereby invited such body-racking abuse. 
 
 "Oh," said he, laconically, "I need the exercise." 
 To my mind, the man who, with such gracious humor, 
 could refer to what was in reality torture, deserved to live 
 a century. But an unkind fate decreed that he should die 
 young — and by his own hand. Ten months after his com- 
 mitment to the State Hospital he was discharged as improved 
 — but not cured. This is not an unusual procedure; nor 
 was it in his case apparently an unwise one, for the patient 
 seemed fit for freedom. During his first month of regained 
 liberty, this young man hanged himself. No message of 
 excuse did he leave. In my opinion, none was necessary. 
 For aught any man knows, the memories of the abuse, tor- 
 ture, and injustice, which were so long his portion, may have 
 proved to be the last straw which overbalanced the desire to 
 live. The doctors will say, and truthfully, that it was a sui- 
 cidal impulse which drove him to his death. But can they 
 surely deny that that suicidal impulse might never have 
 gained control had he been committed to an institution where 
 not only he, but all other patients would have been treated 
 kindly and scientifically ? Surely, if thousands who contem- 
 plate suicide stop short of it because of some little circum- 
 stance, saved by a narrow margin, is it not equally true that 
 an adverse circumstance may drive a desperate person over 
 the final brink to his death ? 
 
l8o A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 I know of two other instances of young men of about my 
 own age who committed suicide shortly after release from 
 their places of confinement. These two had been inmates 
 of the large private hospital where I had suffered in the strait- 
 jacket. So far as I know neither of them was subjected to 
 abuse while there. But one of them who was confined in the 
 violent ward must have seen patients abused. The other, 
 who I think would have recovered had he been skilfully tided 
 over his despondent period, was not at any time confined in 
 a violent ward. But, if he did not see others roughly han- 
 dled, of course he heard the ever-present rumors of abuse. 
 Such rumors are common topics of conversation in all 
 asylums, and they undoubtedly have a depressing effect 
 upon those who need little to convince them that life is not 
 worth living. When a patient is discharged and enters 
 his old world, is it surprising that sometimes he should 
 choose death rather than take the chance of again enter- 
 ing a place which to him is worse than the grave itseM ? 
 
 If I were to recount each instance of cruelty (major and 
 petty) which I can recall, my chapter on abuse would soon 
 become a book of itself. And, if it were possible to put in 
 book form the stories of the lives of persons who have suffered 
 experiences such as mine, I firmly believe it would take sev- 
 eral thousand feet of shelving in a Congressional Library to 
 hold this record of Man's inhumanity to Man. Fortunately 
 no such collection of woe ever can be gathered. Read the 
 few stories of this nature that exist, magnify the impression 
 gained, and an approximation may be reached. Without 
 question, during the past century hundreds of insane men 
 and women have been murdered by their keepers. And 
 many of these murders were as deliberate as any ever com- 
 mitted, for attendants frequently hate unto death certain 
 of their troublesome charges. 
 
XXII 
 
 The so-called "seclusion" vouchsafed to me I have de- 
 scribed. If it is true that I stood in need of seclusion at all, 
 I should have had a bed in a room designed especially for 
 the treatment of such a case as mine. That room should 
 have been perfectly ventilated, and competent nurses should 
 have been in practically constant attendance. My every 
 reasonable wish (and unreasonable whim, if harmless) 
 should have been granted. I should have had nourishing 
 food at proper intervals ; and I should have received nothing 
 but that kindly treatment which can do more toward the 
 restoration of mental health than all the medicine in the 
 world. 
 
 Patients are weighed at stated intervals. Shortly after 
 entering the State Hospital I weighed about one hundred 
 thirty pounds, and that must have been about my weight when 
 transferred to the "violent ward." Ten days later, at the 
 regular monthly weighing, I weighed only one hundred fif- 
 teen pounds. Though loss of weight is a symptom of ela- 
 tion, I cannot but believe that my rapid decrease was due 
 mainly to deprivation and abuse. 
 
 Before my banishment to the violent ward, the doctor in 
 charge of my case had granted me many favors; but during 
 the first ten days of my "seclusion" my sense of gratitude 
 was dulled by the indignities and the terrific punishment 
 to which I was subjected. Is it strange, then, that I had 
 no respect for authority personified by a man who, hold- 
 ing me in the vilest of exiles, apparently countenanced the 
 
 i8i 
 
1 82 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 brutal practices of men dependent upon him for their con- 
 tinued employment? I refused to be a martyr. Rebellion 
 was my watchword. The only difference between the 
 doctor's opinion of me and mine of him was that he could 
 refuse utterance to his thoughts. Yes — there was another 
 difference. Mine could be expressed only in words — 
 his in grim acts. 
 
 I repeatedly made demands for those privileges to which 
 I knew I was entitled. When he saw fit to grant them 
 I gave him perfunctory thanks. When he refused — as he 
 usually did — I at once poured upon his head the vials 
 of my wrath. Patients with less stamina than I had in- 
 variably submit with meekness; and none so aroused my 
 sympathy as those whose submission was due to the con- 
 sciousness that they had no relatives or friends to support 
 them in a fight for their rights. These, disheartened, usually 
 bear their burdens with a fortitude which under other con- 
 ditions would be sublime. 
 
 On behalf of these, with my usual piece of smuggled lead 
 pencil, I soon began to indite and submit to the officers of 
 the institution letters in which I described the cruel prac- 
 tices which came under my notice. My reports were per- 
 functorily accepted and at once forgotten or ignored. Yet 
 these letters, so far as they related to overt acts witnessed, 
 were lucid and should have been convincing. Furthermore, 
 my allegations were frequently corroborated by marks on the 
 bodies of the patients. My usual custom was to write an 
 account of each assault and hand it to the doctor in authority. 
 Frequently I would submit these reports to the attendants 
 with instructions first to read and then deliver them to the 
 superintendent or the assistant physician. The men whose 
 cruelty I thus laid bare read my complaints with evident but 
 perverted pleasure. They would laugh and joke about my 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 183 
 
 ineffectual attempts to bring about their discharge. And 
 their derision seemed justified; for my almost daily reports 
 were without effect. 
 
 My very independence and my impulse to defend others 
 gave promise of approaching sanity. Yet it was because of 
 this disturbing audacity that I so long failed of a transfer 
 to a better ward. One day I would be on the friendliest 
 terms with the doctor, the next day I would upbraid him 
 for some denial of my rights, — or, as frequently happened, 
 for not interposing in behalf of the rights of others. It was 
 after one of these wrangles that I was placed in a cold 
 cell in the Bull Pen at eleven o'clock one morning. StiU 
 without shoes and with no more covering than underclothes, 
 I was forced to stand, sit, or lie upon a bare floor as hard 
 and cold as the pavement outside. Not until sundown was 
 I provided even with a drugget, and this did little good, for 
 already I had become thoroughly chilled. In consequence, 
 I contracted a severe cold which added greatly to my discom- 
 fort, and might have led to serious results had I been of less 
 sturdy fiber. 
 
 This day was the thirteenth of December and the twenty- 
 second of my exile. I remember it distinctly for it was the 
 seventy-seventh birthday of my father, to whom I wished 
 to write a congratulatory letter. This had been my custom 
 for years when absent from home on that anniversary. And 
 well do I remember when, and under what conditions, I 
 asked the doctor for permission. It was night. I was flat on 
 my drugget-bed. My cell was lighted only by the feeble rays 
 of a lantern held by an attendant to the doctor on this his 
 regular visit. At first I couched my request in polite lan- 
 guage. The doctor merely refused to grant it. I then put 
 forth my plea in a way calculated to arouse sympathy. He 
 remained unmoved. I then pointed out that he was defying 
 
1 84 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 the law of the State which provided that a patient should 
 have stationery — a statute, the spirit of which at least 
 meant that he should be permitted to communicate with his 
 conservator.^ But my arguments were of no avail. The 
 doctor had set himself up as despot, and despot he remained. 
 It was now three weeks since I had been permitted to write 
 or send a letter to any relative or friend. Why? Because 
 I would persist in telling the truth about my treatment and 
 condition. Naturally the management did not desire such 
 information to be spread. Contrary to my custom, there- 
 fore, I made my final demand in the form of a concession. 
 I promised that I would write only a conventional note of 
 congratulation, making no mention whatever of my plight. 
 It was a fair offer; but to accept it would have been an im- 
 plied admission that there was something to conceal, and for 
 this, if for no other reason, it was refused. 
 
 Such treatment was not only unfair, it was unsound 
 from a scientific point of view. I was fighting for my life 
 and my reason; and the doctor apparently was putting 
 other obstacles in my way than those which were unavoid- 
 able. Surely I was actuated by a sane impulse — the desire 
 to write to my father on his birthday. And, as sanity itself 
 simply consists in sane impulses, was it not the duty of that 
 doctor, rather than to stifle such impulses as they appeared, 
 to sustain and strengthen them, and, if possible, encourage 
 them to become preponderant? Instead, day after day, I 
 was repressed in a manner which probably would have driven 
 
 1 See General Statutes of Connecticut § 2764. Patient may communi- 
 cate WITH FRIENDS IN WRITING. All persons detained as insane shall 
 at all times be furnished with materials for communicating under seal 
 with any proper person without the asylum, and such communications 
 shall be stamped and mailed daily. Should the patient desire it, all 
 rational communications shall be written at his dictation and duly mailed 
 to any relative or person named by the patient. 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 185 
 
 many a sane man into a state of madness and violence. Yet 
 that doctor, forgetful or ignorant of the fact that my behavior 
 was the direct result of the indignities which he and his under- 
 lings were continually heaping upon me, would frequently 
 exhort me to play the gentleman. Are mild manners and 
 sweet submission usually the product of such treatment? 
 Deprived of my clothes, of sufficient food, of warmth, of all 
 sane companionship, of my liberty and even of those residu- 
 ary rights which belong to a madman, I told the doctors that 
 so long as they should continue to treat me as the vilest of 
 criminals, I should do my best to complete the illusion. 
 
 The burden of proving my sanity was placed upon me. I 
 was told that so soon as I became polite and meek and lowly 
 I should find myself in possession of my clothes and of cer- 
 tain privileges. In every instance I must earn my reward 
 before being entrusted with it. If this principle had been 
 applied in a rational way, if, for instance, instead of demand- 
 ing of me all the negative virtues in the catalogue of spineless 
 saints, the doctor had given me my clothes on the condition 
 that they would be taken from me again if I so much as re- 
 moved a button, — such a course would have been produc- 
 tive of good results. Thus I might have had my clothes 
 three weeks earlier than I did, and so been spared much suf- 
 fering from the cold. 
 
 I clamored daily for a lead pencil; but for seven weeks 
 no doctor, attendant, or other attache gave me one. Now a 
 lead pencil represents the margin of happiness for hundreds of 
 the insane, while a plug of tobacco represents the margin of 
 happiness for thousands of others. To be sure, by reason 
 of my somewhat exceptional persistence and ingenuity, I 
 managed to be always in possession of some substitute for 
 a pencil, surreptitiously obtained, — a fact which no doubt 
 had something to do with the doctor's indifference to my 
 
l86 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 request. But my inability to secure a pencil in a legitimate 
 way was a needless source of annoyance to me, and many 
 of my verbal indiscretions were directly inspired by the 
 doctor's continued refusal to give me what I well knew 
 belonged to me by right. Hospital officials will often 
 justify such a petty deprivation because of an alleged 
 proneness on the part of the patients to scribble on the 
 walls. But only in exceptional cases does this mischievous 
 tendency exist. During my confinement I saw little such 
 vandalism, and most of that was caused by a dearth of paper 
 on which to write; and I have since found that in hospitals 
 where privileges of this sort are freely and promptly granted, 
 there is a disposition on the part of patients to show their 
 appreciation by respecting the wishes of their benefactors. 
 A doctor who has gained the good-will of a patient can, by 
 speaking kindly to him, deter him from worse transgressions 
 than scribbling on the walls. But let us admit that a few 
 patients will transgress. Must the many suffer because of 
 the irresponsibility of the few? And what real harm is 
 done by the few? Surely the instinct to so mark a bare 
 surface is bom of sanity itself. Why else do under- 
 graduates sally forth every now and then with a pot of 
 paint — to earn a fleeting immortality among barbarians 
 of their own ilk? Inasmuch as Nature herself is everlast- 
 ingly carving the earth's surface, it is not strange that man, 
 sane and insane, attempts in his feeble way to imitate her. 
 It was an assistant physician, other than the one regularly 
 in charge of my case, who at last relented and presented me 
 with a good lead pencil. By so doing he placed himself 
 high on my list of benefactors ; for that stick of wood — 
 magnified by my lively appreciation — became as the very 
 axis of the earth. 
 
XXIII 
 
 It was a few days before Christmas that my most galling 
 deprivation was at last removed. That is, my clothes were 
 restored. These I treated with great respect. Not so much 
 as a thread did I destroy. Clothes have a sobering and civil- 
 izing effect, and from the very moment I was again provided 
 with presentable outer garments my conduct rapidly im- 
 proved. One of the doctors with whom I had been on such 
 variable terms of friendship and enmity even took me for a 
 sleigh-ride. With this improvement came other privileges 
 or, rather, the granting of my rights. Late in December I 
 was permitted to write and send letters to my conservator. 
 Now that I was no longer being treated cruelly the doctor 
 in charge was willing that I should communicate directly 
 with my brother. Though some of my blood-curdling 
 letters were confiscated, a few, detailing my experiences, were 
 forwarded. The account of my sufferings naturally dis- 
 tressed my conservator, but, as he said when he next 
 visited me: "What could I have done to help you? If the 
 men in this State whose business it is to care for the insane 
 cannot manage you, I am at a loss to know what to do." 
 True, he could have done little or nothing, for he did not 
 then know the ins and outs of the baffling game into which 
 the ties of blood had drawn him. 
 
 About the middle of January the doctor in charge of my 
 case went for a two week's vacation. During his absence 
 another member of the staff took charge of the violent ward. 
 A man of wider experience and more liberal ideas than his 
 
 187 
 
1 88 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 predecessor, he at once granted me several real privileges. 
 One day he permitted me to pay a brief visit to the best ward 
 — the ward from which I had been transferred two months 
 
 \ earlier. I thus was able again to mingle with fairly sane 
 jmen, and though I enjoyed this privilege upon but one 
 
 / occasion, and then only for a few hours, the knowledge 
 
 I that I could have such privileges for the asking was a 
 
 \ source of intense satisfaction. 
 
 Altogether the last six weeks of the fourteen during which 
 I was confined in the violent ward were comfortable and rel- 
 atively happy. I was no longer subjected to physical abuse, 
 though this exemption was largely due to my own skill in 
 avoiding trouble. I was no longer cold and hungry. I was 
 allowed a fair amount of out- door exercise which, after my 
 close confinement, proved to be a delightful sort of shock. 
 But, above all, I was again given an adequate supply of 
 writing and drawing materials, which became as tinder under 
 the focused rays of my artistic eagerness. My mechanical 
 investigations were gradually set aside and art and literature 
 again held sway. Except when out of doors taking my 
 apportioned exercise, I remained in my room reading, writing 
 or drawing. This room of mine soon became a Mecca for 
 the most irrepressible and loquacious characters in the ward. 
 These self- elected companions at first interfered with my 
 work. But I soon schooled myself to shut my ears to their 
 incoherent prattle. Occasionally, some uninvited visitor 
 would become obstreperous — perhaps because of my lordly 
 order that he leave the room. At such times, however, I 
 tested my theory that insane patients in anger can be con- 
 trolled by tact. The result was that I invariably induced 
 them to obey. Often did they threaten to throttle me; but 
 I ignored the threats, and they were never carried out. Nor 
 was I afraid that they would be. Had I been a typical 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 189 
 
 attendant, I should have accepted them as challenges, with 
 the usual brutal consequences. 
 
 The drawings I produced at this time were crude. For 
 the most part they consisted of copies of illustrations which 
 I had cut from magazines that had miraculously found their 
 way into the violent ward. The heads of men and women 
 interested me most, for I had decided to take up por- 
 traiture. At first I was content to draw in black and 
 white, but I soon procured some colors and from that time 
 on I devoted my attention to mastering pastel. With it I 
 evolved a method which produced an unusual but not an 
 unpleasing effect. I doubt if a graduate of a recognized 
 School of Art would dare to discover the secret of my 
 method. Therefore I shall give up the key to my mystery so 
 that he who runs may take or leave it. On paper with a 
 rough surface (such as draughtsmen commonly use) first 
 draw an outline, using a hard pencil. Then rub in pastel 
 of the desired color. With the tip of the finger this 
 can be properly distributed; and the slight indentations 
 on the surface of the paper, caused by the hard pencil, 
 will immediately appear as light lines. These lines pro- 
 duce a peculiar and striking effect. Though this method 
 would be of no value in many drawings, in a drawing 
 in which there is a wealth of hair to be represented it 
 is very serviceable. With my compliments, this method 
 (so far as I know, my own) I bequeath to posterity, and 
 to such living artists as dare to risk their reputation by 
 adopting it. 
 
 In the world of letters I had made little progress. My 
 compositions were for the most part epistles — addressed to 
 relatives and friends, and to those in authority at the hospital. 
 Frequently the letters addressed to the doctors were sent 
 in sets of three — this to save time, for I was very busy. The 
 
190 
 
 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 first letter of such a series would contain my request, couched 
 in friendly and polite terms. To this I would add a post- 
 script, worded about as follows: "If, after reading this letter, 
 you feel inclined to refuse my request, please read letter num- 
 ber two." Letter number two would be severely formal — 
 a business-like repetition of the request made in letter num- 
 ber one. Again a postscript would advise the reader to 
 consult letter number three, if the reading of number two 
 had failed to move him. Letter nimiber three was invariably 
 a brief philippic in which I would consign the unacconmio- 
 dating doctor to oblivion. 
 
 In this way I expended part of my prodigious supply of 
 feeling. But I had also another way of reducing my crea- 
 tive pressure. Occasionally, from sheer excess of emotion, 
 I would burst into verse — of a quality not to be doubted. 
 Of that quality the reader shall judge, for I am going to 
 quote a "creation" written under circumstances which, to 
 say the least, were adverse. Before writing these lines I 
 had never attempted verse in my life — barring intentionally 
 inane doggerel. And, as I now judge these lines, it is prob- 
 ably true that even yet I have never written a poem. Never- 
 theless, my involuntary, almost automatic outburst is at 
 least suggestive of the fervor that was in me. These four- 
 teen lines were written within thirty minutes of the time I 
 first conceived the idea; and I present them substantially 
 as they first took form. From a psychological standpoint, 
 at least, they are not without interest. 
 
 LIGHT 
 
 Man's darkest hour is the hour before he's bom, 
 
 Another is the hour just before the Dawn; 
 
 From Darkness unto Life and Light he leaps, 
 
 To Life but once, — to Light as oft as God wills he should. 
 
 'Tis God's own secret, why 
 
 Some live long, and others early die; 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 191 
 
 For Life depends on Light, and Light on God, 
 Who hath given to Man the perfect knowledge 
 That Grim Despair and Sorrow end in Light 
 And Life everlasting, in realms 
 Where darkest Darkness becomes Light; 
 But not the Light Man knows, 
 Which only is Light 
 Because God told Man so. 
 
 These verses, which breathe religion, were written in an 
 atmosphere where rehgion was almost extinct. With the 
 cm-ses of madmen ringing in my ears, some subconscious 
 part of me forced me to write at its dictation. I was far 
 from being in a pious frame of mind myself, and the quality 
 of my thought surprised me then — as it does now. Per- 
 haps for a moment some ancestor (I have two who went 
 as missionaries to the Sandwich Islands early in the last cen- 
 tury) controlled my thoughts. At any rate I like to think 
 so, for I should object to being held entirely responsible for 
 a poem the technical imperfections of which are scarcely 
 atoned for by the elevation of the theme. 
 
 Though I respected my clothes, I did not at once cease to 
 tear such material as would serve me in my scientific inves- 
 tigations. Gravity being conquered, it was inevitable that 
 I should devote some of my time to the invention of a flying- 
 machine. This was soon perfected — in my mind; and all 
 I needed, that I might test the device, was my liberty. As 
 usual I was unable to explain how I should produce the re- 
 sult which I so confidently foretold. But I was secure in 
 the belief that I should, ere long, fly to St. Louis and claim 
 and receive the one hundred thousand dollar reward offered 
 by the Commission of the Louisiana Purchase Exposition for 
 the most efficient airship there to be exhibited. The mo- 
 
192 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 ment that thought winged its way through my mind, I had 
 not only a flying-machine, but a fortune in the bank. Being 
 where I could not dissipate my riches I became a lavish verbal 
 spender. I was in a mood to buy anything, and I whiled 
 away many an hour planning what I should do with my 
 fortune. The St. Louis prize was a paltry trifle. I reasoned 
 (if my magnificent mental processes may be dignified as 
 reasoning) that the man who could harness gravity had at 
 his beck and call the world and all that therein is. This 
 sudden accession of wealth made my vast humanitarian 
 projects seem only the more feasible. What could be more 
 delightful, thought I, than the furnishing and financing of 
 ideas of a magnitude such as would stagger humanity. My 
 condition was one of ecstatic suspense. Give me my liberty 
 and I would show a sleepy old world what could be done to 
 improve conditions, not only among the insane, but along 
 every line of beneficent endeavor. 
 
 The city of my birth was to be made a garden-spot. All 
 defiling, smoke-begriming factories were to be banished to 
 an innocuous distance. Churches were to give way to cathe- 
 drals; the city itself was to become a paradise of mansions. 
 Yale University was to be transformed into the most mag- 
 nificent — yet efficient — seat of learning in the world. For 
 once, college professors were to be paid adequate salaries, 
 and alluring provision for their declining years was to be 
 made. New Haven should become a very hot-bed of cul- 
 ture. Art galleries, libraries, museums, and theaters of a 
 dream-like splendor were to rise whenever and wherever I 
 should will. Why absurd? Was it not I who would 
 defray the cost? The famous buildings of the Old World 
 were to be reproduced, if, indeed, the originals could not be 
 purchased, brought to this country, and re-erected. Not 
 far from New Haven there is a sandy plain, once the bed 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 193 
 
 of the Connecticut River, but now a kind of miniature 
 desert. I often smile as I pass it on the train; for it was 
 here, for the edification of those who might never be able to 
 visit the Valley of the Nile, that I planned to erect a pyramid 
 that should out- Cheops the original. My harnessed grav- 
 ity, I believed, would not only enable me to overcome 
 existing mechanical difficulties, but it would make the 
 quarrying of immense monoliths as easy as the slicing 
 of bread. 
 
 After aU, delusions of grandeur are the most entertaining 
 of toys. The assortment which my imagination provided 
 was a comprehensive one. I had tossed aside the blocks 
 of childhood days. Instead of laboriously piling small 
 squares of wood one upon another, in an endeavor to 
 build the tiny semblance of a house, I now, in this second 
 childhood of mine, projected against thin air phantom 
 edifices, planned and completed in the twinkling of an eye. 
 To be sure such houses of cards almost immediately su- 
 perseded each other, but the vanishing of one could not 
 disturb a mind which had ever another interesting 
 bauble to take its place. And therein lies part of the secret 
 of the happiness peculiar to that stage of elation which is 
 distinguished by delusions of grandeur, — always provided 
 the afflicted one be not subjected to privation and abuse. 
 The sane man who can prove that he is rich in material 
 wealth is not nearly so happy as his unfortunate brother 
 whose delusions trick him into believing himself a modern 
 Croesus. A wealth of Midas-like delusions is no burden. 
 Such a fortune, though a misfortune in itself, bathes the 
 world in a golden glow. No clouds obscure the vision. 
 Optimism reigns supreme. "Failure" and "impossible" are 
 as words from an unknown tongue. And the unique satis- 
 faction about a fortune of this fugitive type is that its loss 
 14 
 
194 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 occasions no regret. One by one the phantom ships of treas- 
 ure sail away for parts unknown; untU when the last 
 has become but a speck on the mental horizon, the observer 
 makes the happy discovery that his pirate fleet has left 
 behind it a priceless wake of Reason! 
 
XXIV 
 
 Early in March, 1903, having lived in a "violent 
 ward" for nearly four months, I was transferred to another 
 — a ward quite as orderly as the best in the institution, 
 though less attractively furnished. Here also I had a room 
 to myself: in this instance, however, the room had not only 
 a bed, but a chair and a wardrobe. With this elaborate 
 equipment I was soon able to convert my room into a ver- 
 itable studio. Whereas in the violent ward it had been 
 necessary for me to hide my writing and drawing materials 
 to prevent their loss, in my new abode I was able to conduct 
 my literary and artistic operations without the annoyances 
 which had been inevitable during the preceding months. 
 
 Soon after my transfer to this ward I was permitted to go 
 out of doors and walk to the business section of the city — two 
 miles distant. But on these walks I was always accom- 
 panied by an attendant. To one who has never surrendered 
 any part of his liberty such surveillance would no doubt seem 
 irksome; yet, to me, after being so closely confined, the 
 ever-present attendant seemed a companion rather than a 
 guard. These excursions into the sane and free world were 
 not only a great pleasure, they were almost a tonic. To 
 rub elbows with normal men tends to restore the mental 
 poise of one whose recovery is imminent. The casual passer- 
 by, as a rule, does not distinguish patient from attendant, 
 if, indeed, the identity of either is suspected. And the 
 knowledge of this fact gives the patient a feeling of security 
 which hastens a return of that self-confidence so essential 
 
 195 
 
196 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 to the success of one about to re-enter a world from which 
 he has long been cut off. 
 
 It is to be regretted that those in authority at a state hos- 
 pital are unable to send many patients on such little excur- 
 sions as I have just mentioned. I know that the doctors would 
 be glad to grant such privileges more freely if a sufficient 
 number of attendants were available for the purpose. Few 
 institutions are provided with an adequate force of attend- 
 ants. Yet the States could well afford to employ men 
 and women for no other purpose than that of acting as 
 escort and guard for those patients whose recovery is only a 
 question of time. Such treatment would surely shorten 
 the period of convalescence, and the earher discharge of the 
 patient would offset the increased cost of treatment; for 
 "it is an accepted postulate by speciahsts who have 
 examined the question that every recovery from mental 
 disease, no matter what the cost of obtaining it, is a saving 
 to the State." ^ In every community, I believe, there are men 
 and women who would be glad of the opportunity to perform 
 such service — for a few hours each day. One of these per- 
 sons could be called in whenever a regular attendant could 
 not be spared for the purpose. Especially would this scheme 
 prove feasible in those institutions (and there are many 
 such) situated near a college or university. The students 
 would thus be able to make appreciable additions to their 
 income during their term of study and, far above the 
 financial gains, they would develop a richness of char- 
 acter which must come to him who helps to lift a burden 
 from the sorely afflicted. 
 
 My first trips to the city were made primarily for the pur- 
 pose of supplying myself with writing and drawing materials. 
 
 *See Dr. J. Montgomery Mosher's Fourth Annual Report of Pavilion 
 F, Department for Mental Diseases at Albany Hospital (Albany, N. Y.). 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 197 
 
 While enjoying these welcome tastes of liberty, on more than 
 one occasion I surreptitiously mailed certain letters which 
 I did not dare entrust to the doctor. Under ordinary cir- 
 cumstances such an act on the part of one enjoying a special 
 privilege would be dishonorable. But the circumstances 
 that then obtained were not ordinary. I was simply pro- 
 tecting myself against what I believed to be unjust and 
 illegal confiscation of letters. 
 
 I therefore need not dilate on the reasons which made 
 it necessary for me to smuggle, as it were, to the Governor 
 of the State of which I was a ward, a letter of complaint and 
 instruction. This letter was written shortly after my trans- 
 fer from the violent ward. The abuses of that ward were 
 still fresh in my mind, and the memory of distressing 
 scenes was kept vivid by reports reaching me from friends 
 who were still confined there. These private detectives of 
 mine I talked with at the evening entertainments, or at 
 church. From them I learned that brutality had become 
 more common, if anything, since I had left the ward. Real- 
 izing that my crusade against the physical abuse of patients 
 thus far had proved of no effect, I determined to go over 
 the heads of the doctors and appeal to the ex-officio head 
 of the institution, the Governor of the State. 
 
 On March 12 th, 1903, I wrote a letter which so 
 disturbed the Governor that he immediately set about an 
 informal investigation of some of my charges. Despite its 
 prolixity, its unconventional form and what, under other cir- 
 cumstances, would be stigmatized as almost diabolic impu- 
 dence and familiarity, my letter, as he said months later 
 when I conferred with him, "rang true." The writing of it 
 was an easy matter; in fact, so easy, because of the pressure 
 of truth under which I was laboring at the time, that it em- 
 bodied a compelling spontaneity. 
 
198 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 The mailing of it was not so easy. I knew that the only 
 sure way of getting my thoughts before the Governor was 
 to do my own mailing. Naturally no doctor could be trusted 
 to send an indictment against himself and his colleagues to 
 the one man in the State who had the power to institute such 
 an investigation as might make it necessary for all to seek 
 employment elsewhere. In my frame of mind, to wish to 
 mail my letter was to know how to accomplish the wish. 
 The letter was in reality a booklet. I had thoughtfully used 
 waterproof India drawing ink in writing it, in order, per- 
 haps, that a remote posterity might not be deprived of the 
 document. The booklet consisted of thirty-two, eight-by- 
 ten-inch pages of heavy white drawing paper. These I had 
 bound together by sewing. In planning the form of my 
 letter I had forgotten to consider the slot of a letter-box of 
 average size. Therefore I had to hit upon some peculiar 
 method of getting my letter into the custody of the gov- 
 ernment. My expedient was simple. There was in the 
 town a certain bookstore where I traded. At my request 
 the doctor gave me permission to go to that store for supplies. 
 I was of course accompanied by an attendant, who little 
 suspected what was under my vest. To conceal and carry 
 my letter in that place had been easy; but to get rid of it 
 after reaching the bookstore was another matter. Watch- 
 ing my opportunity, I slipped the missive between the 
 leaves of a copy of the Saturday Evening Post. This I did, 
 believing that some purchaser would soon discover the letter 
 and mail it. In fact, so fearful was I of detection, that, to 
 guard against its discovery before I should be safely away 
 from the shop, I placed it nearer the bottom than the top 
 of the pile. 
 
 That the letter which I thus successfully started on its 
 errand finally reached the Governor was not surprising. On 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 199 
 
 the back of the wrapper I had endorsed the following 
 words : 
 
 "Mr. Postmaster: This package is unsealed. Neverthe- 
 less it is first-class matter. Everything I write is necessa- 
 rily first class. I have affixed two two-cent stamps. If extra 
 postage is needed you will do the Governor a favor if you 
 will put the extra postage on. Or affix "due" stamps, and 
 let the Governor pay his own bills, as he can well afford to. 
 If you want to know who I am, just ask his Excellency, and 
 oblige, Yours truly, 
 
 ?" 
 
 Flanking this notice, I had arrayed other forceful senti- 
 ments, as follows — taken from statutes which I had framed 
 for the occasion: 
 
 "Any person finding letter or package — duly stamped 
 and addressed — must mail same as said letter or package 
 is really in hands of the Government the moment the stamp 
 is affixed." 
 
 And again, 
 
 "Failure to comply with Federal Statute which forbids 
 any one except addressee to open a letter — renders one 
 liable to imprisonment in State Prison," 
 
 One of the owners of the store in which I left this letter 
 found and mailed it. From him, I afterwards learned that 
 my unique instructions had piqued his curiosity, as well as 
 compelled my wished-for action. Assuming that the reader's 
 curiosity may likewise have been piqued, I shall quote cer- 
 tain passages from this four thousand word epistle of pro- 
 test. The opening sentence read as follows : " If you have had 
 the courage to read the above (referring to an unconventional 
 heading) I hope you will read on to the end of this epistle 
 — thereby displaying real Christian fortitude and learning a 
 few facts which I think should be brought to your attention." 
 
200 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 I then introduced myself, touching upon my ancestry, and 
 proceeded as follows: "I take pleasure in informing you 
 that I am in the Crazy Business and am holding my job 
 down with ease and a fair degree of grace. Being in the 
 Crazy Business, I understand certain phases of the business 
 about which you know nothing." (Apparently this was 
 meant to imply that the Governor himself was not "crazy.") 
 "You as Governor are at present 'head devil' in this 'hell,' 
 though I know you are unconsciously acting as 'His 
 Majesty's' ist Lieutenant." 
 
 I then launched into my arraignment of the treatment of 
 the insane. The method, I declared, was "wrong from 
 start to finish. The abuses existing here exist in every 
 other institution of the kind in the country. They are all 
 alike — though some of them are of course worse than others. 
 Hell is hell the world over, and I might also add that hell 
 is only a great big bunch of disagreeable details anyway. 
 That's all an Insane Asylum is. If you don't believe it, 
 just go crazy and take up your abode here. In writing this 
 letter I am laboring under no mental excitement. I am no 
 longer subjected to the abuses about which I complain. I 
 am well and happy. In fact I never was so happy as I am 
 now. Whether I am in perfect mental health or not, I shall 
 leave for you to decide. If I am insane to-day I hope I may 
 never recover my Reason." 
 
 My arraig^ment began with the private institution where 
 I had been strait-jacketed. I referred to my oppressor 
 
 as "Dr. M.D. (Mentally Deranged)." Then followed 
 
 an account of my strait- jacket experience; then an account 
 of abuses at the State Hospital. I described in detail the 
 most brutal assault that fell to my lot. In simiming up I 
 said, "The attendants claimed next day that I had called 
 them certain names. Maybe I did — though I don't be- 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 201 
 
 lieve I did at all. What of it? This is no young ladies' 
 boarding school. Should a man be nearly killed because he 
 swears at attendants who swear like pirates? I have seen 
 at least fifteen men, many of them mental and physical 
 wrecks, assaulted just as brutally as I was, and usually with- 
 out a cause. I know that men's lives have been shortened 
 by these brutal assaults. And that is only a polite way of 
 saying that murder has been committed here." Turning 
 next to the matter of the women's wards I said: "A patient 
 in this ward, — a man in his right mind, who leaves here on 
 Tuesday next — told me that a woman patient told him that 
 she had seen many a helpless woman dragged along the floor 
 by her hair, and had also seen them choked by attendants 
 who used a wet towel as a sort of garrote.^ I have been 
 through the mill and believe every word of the abuse. You 
 will perhaps doubt it, as it seems impossible. Bear in mind, 
 though, that everything bad and disagreeable is possible in 
 an Insane Asylum." 
 
 I must pause to call the reader's attention to the degree 
 of fair-mindedness displayed in the foregoing. Facts I 
 stated as facts, but I was wise enough to qualify a state- 
 ment incapable of proof. An extravagant imagination does 
 not necessarily supersede and suspend judgment. 
 
 When I came to the matter of the "Bull Pen" I wasted 
 no words: "The Bull Pen," I wrote, "is a pocket edition of 
 the New York Stock Exchange during a panic." 
 
 I next pointed out the difficulties a patient must over- 
 come in mailing letters: "It is impossible for any one to 
 send a letter to you via the office. The letter would be con- 
 
 1 According to the testimony given before the Congressional Committee 
 which, in the early summer of 1906, investigated the Government Hospital 
 for the Insane at Washington, D. C, untrained attendants seem prone to 
 resort to the use of a wet towel as a sort of garrote. 
 
202 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 signed to the waste-basket — unless it was a particularly 
 crazy letter — in which case it might reach you, as you would 
 then pay no attention to it. But a sane letter, and a true 
 letter, telling about the abuses which exist here would stand 
 no show of being mailed. The way in which mail is tam- 
 pered with by the medical staff is contemptible." 
 
 I then described my stratagem in mailing my letter to the 
 Governor. Discovering that I had left a page of my episto- 
 lary booklet blank, I drew upon it a copy of Rembrandt's 
 Anatomy Lesson, and under it wrote: "This page was 
 skipped by mistake. Had to fight fifty-three days to get 
 writing-paper and I hate to waste any space — hence the 
 masterpiece, — drawn in five minutes. Never drew a line 
 till September 26 (last) and never took lessons in my life. 
 I think you will readily believe my statement." I ask the 
 reader to notice here the humorous insight into my artistic 
 limitations which I displayed, despite my delusional state 
 of mind. Continuing in the same half-deluded, half-banter- 
 ing vein, I said: "I intend to immortalize all members of 
 medical staff of State Hospital for Insane — when I illus- 
 trate my Inferno, which, when written, will make Dante's 
 Divine Comedy look like a French Farce." 
 
 I then outlined my plans for reform: "Whether my sug- 
 gestions meet with approval or not," I wrote, "will not affect 
 the result — though opposition on your part would perhaps 
 delay reforms. I have decided to devote the next few years 
 of my life to correcting abuses now in existence in every 
 asylum in this country. I know how these abuses can be 
 corrected and I intend — later on, when I understand the 
 subject better — to draw up a Bill of Rights for the Insane. 
 Every State in the Union will pass it, because it will be 
 founded on the Golden Rule. I am desirous of having the 
 co-operation of the Governor of Connecticut, but if my plans 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 203 
 
 do not appeal to him I shall deal directly with his only supe- 
 rior, the President of the United States. When Theodore 
 Roosevelt hears my story his blood will boil. I would write 
 to him now, but I am afraid he would jump in and correct 
 abuses too quickly. And by doing it too quickly too little 
 good would be accomplished." The reader wiU here per- 
 haps infer ( and rightly) that my fear of hasty executive 
 action was really bom of a desire to have a hand in the 
 crusade, and I knew that this would be impossible until I 
 should have regained my freedom. 
 
 Waxing crafty, yet, as I believed, writing truth, I con- 
 tinued: "I need money badly, and if I cared to, I could 
 sell my information and services to the New York World or 
 New York Journal for a large amount. But I do not intend to 
 advertise Connecticut as a Hell-hole of Iniquity, Insanity, 
 and Injustice. If the facts appeared in the public press at 
 this time, Connecticut would lose caste with her sister States. 
 And they would profit by Connecticut's disgrace and cor- 
 rect the abuses before they could be put on the rack. As 
 these conditions prevail throughout the country, there is no 
 reason why Connecticut should get all the abuse and criti- 
 cism which would follow any such revelation of disgusting 
 abuse; such inhuman treatment of human wrecks. If pub- 
 licity is necessary to force you to act — and I am sure it will 
 not be necessary — I shaU apply for a writ of habeas corpus, 
 and, in proving my sanity to a jury, I shall incidentally 
 prove your own incompetence. Permitting such a whirl- 
 wind reformer to drag Connecticut's disgrace into open 
 court would prove your incompetence." 
 
 For several obvious reasons it is well that I did not at that 
 time attempt to convince a jury that I was mentally sound. 
 The mere outlining of my ambitious scheme for reform would 
 have caused my immediate return to the asylum. For all 
 
204 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 that, the scheme itself, stripped of its insane trappings, was 
 then, as it is to-day, absolutely feasible and sane; and, in 
 this assertion, I am supported by the opinions of certain 
 alienists who have read my story. According to these 
 authorities, my consistent and persistent desire to effect re- 
 forms, taken by itself, was not characteristic of any form of 
 mental disorder. It was a sane idea; but, taking hold of 
 me, as it did, while my imagination was at white heat, I was 
 impelled to attack my problem with compromising energy 
 and, for a time, in a manner so unconvincing as to obscure 
 the essential sanity of my cherished purpose. 
 
 I closed my letter as foUows: "No doubt you will con- 
 sider certain parts of this letter rather 'fresh.' I apologize 
 for any such passages now, but, as I have an Insane License, 
 I do not hesitate to say what I think. What's the use when 
 one is caged like a criminal?" 
 
 "P. S. This letter is a confidential one — and is to be 
 returned to the writer upon demand." 
 
 The letter was eventually forwarded to my conservator 
 and is now in my possession. 
 
 As a result of my protest the Governor immediately 
 interrogated the superintendent of the institution where 
 " Jekyll-Hyde" had tortured me. Until he laid before the 
 superintendent my charges against his assistant, the doctor in 
 authority had not even suspected that I had been tortured. 
 This superintendent took pride in his institution. He was 
 sensitive to criticism and it was natural that he should 
 strive to palliate the offense of his subordinate. He said 
 that I was a most troublesome patient, which was, indeed, 
 the truth; for I had always a way of my own for doing 
 the things that worried those in charge of me. In a word, 
 I brought to bear upon the situation what I have previously 
 referred to as "an uncanny admixture of sanity." 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 205 
 
 The Governor did not meet the assistant physician who 
 had maltreated me. The reprimand, if there was to be any, 
 was left to the superintendent to administer. 
 
 In my letter to the Governor I had laid more stress upon the 
 abuses to which I had been subjected at this private institu- 
 tion than I had upon conditions at the State Hospital. This 
 may have had some effect on the action he took, or rather 
 failed to take. At any rate, as to the State Hospital, no 
 action was taken. Not even a word of warning was sent to 
 the officials, as I know, for before leaving the institution 
 I asked the doctors. It seems to me that the Governor 
 was derelict in his duty. If my letter was convincing 
 enough to induce him to inquire into a private institution, 
 surely he should have been equally willing to investigate 
 charges affecting the institution of which he was the nominal 
 head. The least that he could have done would have been 
 to convince himself that my charges were untrue. 
 
 Governors, for selfish or political reasons, are only too 
 willing to avoid the inevitable political scandal which follows 
 nine out of ten investigations of institutions politically organ- 
 ized. Instead of humanely considering the just claims of 
 the State's unfortunates, men in such positions of power too 
 often turn a deaf ear to the cries of the helpless. It is trite 
 to observe that the average politician (and most governors 
 are such) mistakenly thinks he must have one deaf ear 
 which he may interpose between himself and the call of 
 duty, while his supposedly "good" ear is reserved for the 
 bad advice of better politicians than himself. 
 
 I am far from saying that the Governor in question delib- 
 erately suppressed an investigation which his conscience 
 dictated. I have good reason to believe that he thought an 
 investigation would produce no results of value. He knew 
 that, on the whole, the State Hospital was fairly well managed 
 
2o6 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 — or at least better managed than similar institutions in many 
 other States. Further, he knew that the doctors in charge 
 were reputable men, and that, if they could not correct 
 abuses, a new medical staff would not be likely to do so 
 either. Considering the deplorable yet excusable ignorance 
 that prevails in reference to the treatment of insanity and 
 the proper management of institutions for the insane, the 
 action of the Governor was logical and, without doubt, 
 honest. In fact, I question whether one Governor in ten 
 in this country to-day has ever heard the word "Non-Re- 
 straint," — much less understands that a thorough enforcement 
 of its principles will eliminate a majority of existing abuses. 
 
 Though my letter did not bring about an investigation it 
 was not altogether without fruit. Naturally, it was with 
 considerable satisfaction that I informed the doctors that I 
 had outwitted them in their endeavor to keep me in exile; 
 and it was with even greater satisfaction that I now saw those 
 in authority make a determined, if temporary, effort to pro- 
 tect helpless patients against the cruelty of attendants. The 
 moment the doctors were convinced that I had gone over 
 their heads and had sent a characteristic letter of protest to 
 the Governor of the State, that moment they began to pro- 
 tect themselves with an energy born of a realization of their 
 former shortcomings. Whether or not the management in 
 question will admit that their unwonted activity was due to 
 my coup, the fact remains that the summary discharge of 
 several attendants accused and proved guilty of brutality 
 immediately followed, and, for a while, put a stop to wanton 
 assaults against which, for a period of four months, I had 
 protested in vain. This I know, for certain inmates of the 
 violent ward told me that comparative peace reigned about 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 207 
 
 this time. That attendants can be scared into humanity, is 
 proved by a remark made to me by one the very day he had 
 been discharged for choking a patient into an insensibihty so 
 profound that it had been necessary to call a physician to 
 restore him. Said this brute: "It seems to me they're get- 
 ting pretty damned strict these days, discharging an attendant 
 for simply choking a patient." This discharged and guilty 
 attendant immediately secured a position in another hospital 
 of the same character in a city not twenty miles distant. 
 
XXV 
 
 My failure to force the Governor to investigate conditions 
 at the State Hospital convinced me that I coiild not hope to 
 prosecute my reforms until I should have regained my lib- 
 erty and re-established myself in my old world. I there- 
 fore quitted the role of reformer-militant; and, but for an 
 occasional outburst of righteous indignation at some fla- 
 grant abuse which obtruded itself upon my notice, my 
 demeanor was that of one quite content with his lot in life. 
 
 I was indeed content — I was happy. Knowing that I 
 should soon regain my freedom, I foimd it easy to forgive 
 — taking great pains not to forget — any injustice which had 
 been done me. Liberty is sweet, even to one whose appreci- 
 ation of it has never been augmented by its temporary loss. 
 The pleasurable emotions which my impending liberation 
 aroused within me served to soften my speech and render 
 me more tractable. This change the assistant physician was 
 not slow to note, though he was rather slow in placing in 
 me that degree of confidence which I felt that I deserved. 
 So justifiable, however, was his suspicion that even at the 
 time I forgave him for it. I had on so many prior occasions 
 "played possum" that the doctor naturally attributed complex 
 and imfathomable motives to my most innocent acts. For a 
 long time he entertained the idea that I was trying to capture 
 his confidence, win the privilege of an unlimited parole, and 
 so effect my escape from the institution. He had doubt- 
 less not forgotten the several plans of escape which I had 
 toyed with and bragged about while in the violent ward. 
 
 208 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 209 
 
 Though I was granted considerable liberty during the 
 months of April, May, and June, 1903, not until July did I 
 enjoy a so-called "unlimited parole" which enabled me to 
 walk about the neighboring city unattended. My privi- 
 leges were granted so gradually that these first tastes of re- 
 gained freedom, though delightful, were not so thrilling as 
 one might imagine. I took everything as a matter of course, 
 and, except when I deliberately analyzed my feelings, was 
 scarcely conscious of my former deprivations. 
 
 This power to forget the past — or recall it only at will — 
 has contributed much to my happiness. A majority of 
 those who have suffered experiences such as mine are prone 
 to brood upon them, and I cannot but attribute my happy 
 immunity from unpleasant memories to the fact that I 
 have viewed my own case much as a physician might 
 view that of a patient. My past is a thing apart. I can 
 examine this or that phase of it in the clarifying and 
 comforting light of reason. I can, as it were, hold my past 
 in my hand and analyze its complex and bewildering collec- 
 tion of thoughts under a memory rendered microscopic. 
 And I am further comforted by the belief that I have a dis- 
 tinct mission in life — a chance for usefulness which might 
 never have been mine had I enjoyed unbroken health. 
 
 The last few months of my life in the hospital were much 
 alike, save that each succeeding one brought with it an 
 increased degree of liberty. My hours now passed pleas- 
 antly. Time did not drag, for I was engaged upon some 
 matter, every minute. I would draw, read, write, and talk. 
 If any feeling was dominant it was my feeling for art; and, 
 had I then been forced to choose irrevocably a life-work, I 
 should have decided in favor of the study of art. I read 
 with avidity books on that subject. In fact, I have never 
 read any books with greater interest than these, which, to- 
 
210 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 day, interest me scarcely at all. For, strange as it may seem, 
 the moment I again found myself in the world of business 
 my desire to become an artist died almost as suddenly as it 
 had been born. Though my artistic ambition was clearly 
 an outgrowth of my abnormal condition, and languished 
 when normality asserted itself, I am inclined to believe I 
 should even now take a lively interest in the study of art if 
 I were so situated as to be deprived of a free choice of my 
 mode of life. The use of words now enthralls me because 
 it is eminently suited to my purposes; and its mere utility 
 is re-enforced by a perhaps instinctive though long-latent 
 desire for expression. 
 
 During the summer of 1903, friends and relatives often 
 called to see me. The talks we had were of great and last- 
 ing benefit to me. Though I had rid myself of my more 
 extravagant and impossible delusions of grandeur — flying 
 machines and the like — I still discussed with intense ear- 
 nestness other schemes, which, though allied to delusions 
 of grandeur, were, in truth, still more closely allied to san- 
 ity itself. My talk was of that high but perhaps suspi- 
 cious type in which Imagination overrules Common Sense. 
 Lingering delusions, as it were, made great projects seem 
 easy. That they were at least feasible under certain condi- 
 tions my mentors admitted. Only I was in an insane hurry 
 to produce results. Work that I now understand cannot 
 be accomplished in less than five or ten years, if, indeed, in 
 a life -time, I then believed could be accomplished in a 
 year or two, and by me single-handed. Had I had none 
 but insane persons to talk with I might have continued to 
 cherish a distorted perspective. As it was, the unanimity 
 of sane opinions helped me to correct my views; and I am 
 confident that each talk with relatives and friends hastened 
 my return to normality. 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 211 
 
 Though I was not discharged from the State Hospital until 
 September loth, 1903, during the preceding month I visited 
 my home several times, once for three days. These trips 
 were not only interesting but steadying in their effect. I 
 willingly returned to the hospital for the remaining days of 
 my confinement. Though several friends expressed sur- 
 prise at this willingness to enter again an institution where 
 I had experienced so many hardships, to me my temporary 
 return was not in the least irksome. As I had penetrated 
 and conquered the mysteries of that dark side of life, it no 
 longer held any terrors for me. Nor does it to this day. I 
 can contemplate the future with a greater degree of com- 
 placency than can those whose lot in life has been uniformly 
 fortunate. In fact, I said at that time that, should my con- 
 dition ever demand it, I would again enter a hospital for the 
 insane, quite as willingly as the average person now enters 
 a general hospital for the treatment of a bodily ailment. 
 
 It was in this complacent and confident mood, and with- 
 out any sharp line of transition, that I again began life in 
 my old world of companionship and of business. 
 
PART II 
 
 XXVI 
 
 After again becoming a free man, my mind would not 
 abandon the miserable ones whom I had left behind. I 
 thought with horror that my reason had been threatened 
 and baffled at every turn. Without malice toward those 
 who had had me in charge, I yet looked with contempt 
 upon the system by which I had been treated. 
 
 The word "hospital" should be one of the most comfort- 
 ing in the language. Yet I know that probably in every 
 State in the Union men and women on the verge of collapse 
 have killed themselves to escape commitment — and 
 others, having survived confinement, have deliberately 
 chosen death rather than re-commitment. As a patient, in 
 my hearing, once remarked: "I'd rather be hung than kiUed 
 an inch at a time." This thought was more forcefully ex- 
 pressed by an ex-patient whose case was brought to my at- 
 tention by the Kentucky lawyer-attendant already referred 
 to. He had been temporarily cured, but seemed threatened 
 with a return of his malady. Divining the secret purpose of 
 his relatives to return him to an asylum, where he had for- 
 merly been terribly abused, he shot himself through the heart. 
 A message left by this victim of public indifference, or (shall 
 I say?) ignorance, read as follows: 
 
 "I'd rather die than go back there." 
 
 Only within about twenty years has the public taken 
 kindly even to "general" hospitals, and only within the 
 last decade have hospitals for the insane begun to lose their 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 213 
 
 forbidding suggestiveness. Even to-day they are almost uni- 
 versally regarded with dread. Why? Partly because of 
 man's instinctive dread of insanity itself; but quite as much, 
 I think, because of the terrifying air of mystery which 
 for generations has enshrouded these institutions. This 
 air of mystery, fostered by the secretive conduct of our 
 asylums, has been perpetuated and, indeed, in a large de- 
 gree, created, by rumors and occasional proof of abuses 
 appearing now and then in the public print. Thus it 
 is that the shortcomings of the State itself often force a 
 desperately despondent man to take that life which it is the 
 duty of the State to protect. For these avoidable suicides 
 we cannot, however, wholly blame the present manage- 
 ments of our existing hospitals. They are partly the re- 
 sult of that dread of insanity and asylums which has been 
 bequeathed to us by past centuries — a dread that will 
 continue to force men to a self-inflicted death until a univer- 
 sal confidence in such hospitals, and a rational view of 
 insanity itself, shall obtain. 
 
XXVII 
 
 I HAVE authority for the statement that there is no specific 
 for insanity or for any phase or type thereof. For the most 
 part, all that any system of treatment can hope to do is to 
 give nature a chance to right itself by surrounding the pa- 
 tient with the best possible conditions. Yet, in most 
 instances, this is precisely what is not done. 
 
 What then are some of the causes for this state of things, 
 and what are some of the remedies ? Of improved sanitary 
 equipment I shall speak later. Here let me speak at length 
 only of food and of dining facilities. 
 
 During the past century the insane, as a class, have per- 
 haps been the poorest fed. Not many generations ago it 
 was universally the custom to feed them on veritable husks, 
 scarce fit for swine. In some communities to-day they have 
 to be content with the coarsest food, frequently of such qual- 
 ity that a sane person would refuse to eat it. Attendants, 
 whose fare is little, if any better, can testify to this fact. Indeed 
 they do occasionally testify forcefully by threatening to stop 
 work unless the management improve the quality of their 
 rations. Such protests are usually effective. But what can 
 patients do to emphasize their protest? Nothing, except 
 to stop eating — a course which many of them take from 
 time to time, until the instinct of self-preservation overcomes 
 their eminently sane disgust. 
 
 Though there are to-day in this country comparatively 
 few institutions where patients and attendants are fed as 
 well as they deserve, it is my opinion that the several man- 
 
 214 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 215 
 
 agements are entitled to considerable credit for the great 
 improvement that has been made in this particular depart- 
 ment during the past score of years. In many institutions 
 an honest attempt is being made to provide nothing but 
 wholesome food. Unfortunately it is equally true that in 
 some institutions dishonest officials consider the happiness 
 of their charges of so little moment that for a few mean dol- 
 lars they will barter it away according to the rules of that 
 discredited political game, "Graft." Whenever and wher- 
 ever the members of a medical or executive staff of a hospital 
 for the insane are dependent upon a political party or polit- 
 ical "boss" for their continuance in office, you will be apt 
 to find in operation a pernicious system of perquisites which 
 can be wrung from the State's appropriations only at the 
 expense of the inmates of the hospitals. This " graft, " which 
 first strikes at the consciences of the men in authority, at one 
 and the same time strikes the inmates in that most vulnerable 
 spot — the stomach. Each and every state-appropriated 
 dollar that is diverted by a dishonest manager or manage- 
 ment means just so much less comfort for the inmates, who 
 already suffer unnecessary hardships because of inadequate 
 appropriations. The quality and quantity of food provided 
 is sure to be adversely affected. Usually it is the purchasing 
 of supplies which affords the only sure opportunity for 
 "graft," and as a major part of the appropriations must be 
 spent for food, dishonesty, where it. exists, affects vitally the 
 well-being of the patients. To the mind of every right- 
 thinking person, the political "grafter," who will wring 
 his mean gains from the very blood of the most unfortunate, 
 is a man deserving of discovery and its consequent disgrace 
 and punishment. I predict that honest legislative investiga- 
 tions will uncover many miserable specimens of humanity 
 who for years have fattened by the emaciation of misery itself. 
 
2i6 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 In arguing for a right quantity and quality of food I do 
 not mean that a State should be expected to provide a great 
 variety. At this stage of hospital development that is of 
 course impossible. But at least an illusion of variety might 
 be created if the menus were not decided upon months in 
 advance. To know that certain articles of food will appear 
 on a certain day of the week, each week, each month, is to 
 rob a patient of that element of surprise which in itself 
 serves as an appetizer. 
 
 During the first six months of my confinement at the State 
 Hospital, though I finally grew tired of the food provided 
 and had difficulty in swallowing enough of it to satisfy 
 hunger, the most serious fault I had to find with it was with 
 respect to its quantity. Not until I was admitted to the 
 common dining-room of the ward was I able to satisfy my 
 hunger. Then, for nearly a month — this after two months 
 of eating in comparative solitude — I ate two, sometimes 
 three, of the regular portions at each meal. This was not 
 gluttony — lack of variety, if nothing else, protected me 
 against sinful indulgence. It was occasioned by an instinc- 
 tive desire to repair the damage done during my period of 
 "seclusion." That my loss in weight already referred to was 
 occasioned more by privation than by my state of mind, or 
 the abuse to which I was subjected, is borne out by an earlier 
 experience; for during my strait- jacket ordeal at the private 
 hospital I was given nourishing food at frequent intervals 
 and I left the padded cell weighing nearly as much as the 
 day I first entered it. 
 
 A majority of patients to-day are fed in small dining-rooms 
 connected with the ward in which they happen to be con- 
 fined. The food is sent from the main kitchen to these 
 centers of distribution and there apportioned and served by 
 attendants. The attendants are supposed to allow the 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 217 
 
 patients a sufficient time to eat their meal, but it frequently 
 happens that certain ones have not finished eating when the 
 attendant in charge says: "All up!" In a violent ward, and 
 sometimes in others, any patient who fails to obey that com- 
 mand invites abuse. More than once have I seen a patient 
 forced to leave a half- eaten meal and quit the room — or 
 perhaps be forcibly ejected; and I myself have often pru- 
 dently stowed away in a hurry an adequate amount of food 
 within an uncertain and arbitrarily limited time. One of 
 the most revolting and least justifiable assaults I ever wit- 
 nessed occurred in the dining-room of the violent ward at 
 the State Hospital. When the patient had been kicked and 
 choked into a state bordering on insensibility the attendants 
 calmly, but breathlessly, returned to their own meal. I shud- 
 der when I think of the punishment that would have been 
 mine had circumstances forced me to enter a violent ward 
 during that stage of my illness which was characterized by a 
 continued refusal to eat what was placed before me — ex- 
 cept when my inscrutable impulses directed otherwise. It is 
 my conviction that this book would never have been written 
 had not a "timely generosity" kept me from such abuse 
 while mute and crippled. 
 
 But in a hospital which has that modern improvement 
 known as an associate dining-hall, such abuses as I have 
 described cannot affect a majority of the patients. The 
 State Hospital in which I was confined, now has as good a 
 dining-hall of this type as any in the country; and its out- 
 lying groups of buildings have smaller ones. This associate 
 or "congregate" dining-hall was first used about three months 
 before I was discharged; consequently I am in a position to 
 contrast its advantages with the shortcomings of the ward 
 dining-rooms. The associate hall in question had a seating 
 capacity of twelve hundred. This fact in itself is perhaps 
 
2l8 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 surprising, for most people picture an asylum for the insane 
 as a place of great disorder, if not riot. Yet day after day, 
 twelve hundred insane men and women here gather and 
 partake of the indifferent, though wholesome and life-sus- 
 taining, food provided by the State. And this, too, with 
 relatively less disorder than will be found among an equal 
 number of undergraduates at any of our great universities 
 where similar dining-halls are in operation. 
 
 In an associate dining-room, under the eyes of one or more 
 of the assistant physicians, the solicitous consideration for 
 his charges on the part of the brutal type of attendant is 
 positively refreshing, even if inspired by the motive of self- 
 interest. Aside from the personal safety of the patient 
 which thus results, there are many other advantages. The 
 patient is sure to get a sufficient amount of food and an ample 
 allowance of time in which to eat it. Usually an hour is 
 allowed for each meal — that time including the walking 
 to and from the dining-hall. In this way the inmates are 
 able to while away three hours of the long day. At noon 
 and night an orchestra enlivens the meal. That this music 
 has much to do with the good order that obtains is an ad- 
 mitted fact, for it has been proved that music is an excel- 
 lent medicine for the mentally disturbed. It is to be 
 regretted that the associate dining-hall does not utterly 
 eliminate the abuses which exist in so many wards. Un- 
 fortunately only those able to take some care of themselves 
 are permitted to enjoy its advantages. Those most in need 
 of protection are still left to the uncertain ministrations of 
 unwatched attendants. 
 
XXVIII 
 
 Worse than the negligent treatment of the body is a vexa- 
 tious treatment, of the mind itself. I have already made it 
 clear that unjustifiable interference with the mail-matter of 
 the patient is a common practice. This may be aptly desig- 
 nated as the major petty abuse of that multitude of petty 
 abuses which help to make the lot of the insane so hard. 
 
 Next to the instinctive desire for freedom, which naturally 
 inspires almost every inmate of an asylum, perhaps the 
 commonest desire is to be allowed to write and receive letters 
 as he had been accustomed to do before his commitment. 
 This gives rise to the universal bone of contention on which 
 doctors and patients chew — yes, and over which they growl 
 and snarl. Every day in the year, year in and year out, in 
 the majority of such institutions, this battle is waged. The 
 patients chafe under censorship, let alone confiscation. 
 
 In the main they are right. It is without question unjust, 
 as it is, indeed, illegal, that a patient should be denied the 
 privilege of communicating, almost at will, with at least his 
 legally appointed conservator. Yet doctors of the despot 
 type do censor and frequently destroy letters, — except in 
 those rare instances when a patient writes a string of silly 
 nothings, or speaks in complimentary terms of the institu- 
 tion and its management. But missives of the latter sort 
 are naturally rare — and will continue to be so until the sev- 
 eral managements begin to inspire encomiums by deserving 
 them. The elimination of this one abuse would go far to 
 eliminate others which grow out of it. On the other 
 
 219 
 
220 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 hand, when the physical and allied abuses shall have been 
 done away with, there will be less temptation to interfere 
 with patients' correspondence; for, the moment patients are 
 universally treated with consideration they will be pretty 
 likely to declare that fact in their letters. Then, not only 
 will the doctors in authority not censor and wantonly destroy 
 these letters — they will exert themselves to keep patients in 
 close and honest touch with their relatives and friends. 
 
 I, perhaps, feel more strongly on this subject than on 
 almost any other. I know what it is to be kept in an exile so 
 complete that I could not send a message of any sort to my 
 legally appointed conservator — my own brother; and that, 
 too, at a time when I greatly desired to ask him for assist- 
 ance in my fight against abuse and positive danger. This 
 situation occurred first at the private hospital where I was 
 strait- jacketed for three weeks. Within a month of its first 
 occurrence it occurred again at the State Hospital. Indeed, 
 so long as I wrote letters at these two institutions, except for 
 a short initial period at each, I never felt sure that my let- 
 ters were not being held or destroyed by the doctors in 
 authority, — and with reason. My letters were on several 
 occasions confiscated — letters, too, which there was no 
 excuse for so treating, except that they contained nothing 
 but the truth. Though many of my letters were finally 
 forwarded to my conservator, in a few conspicuous instances 
 they were destroyed without the knowledge of either my 
 conservator or myself. I have already described how an 
 assistant physician arbitrarily denied my request that I be 
 permitted to send a birthday letter to my father, thereby not 
 merely exceeding his authority and ignoring decency, but, 
 consciously or unconsciously, stifling a sane impulse. That 
 this should occur while I was confined in the Bull Pen was 
 not so surprising. But, about four months later, while I 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 221 
 
 was an inmate of one of the best wards, a similar though 
 less open interference occurred. At this time I was so 
 nearly normal that my discharge was but a question of a few 
 months. Anticipating my return to my old world I decided 
 to begin the re-establishment of old relations. Accordingly, 
 my brother, at my suggestion, informed certain friends that 
 I should be pleased to receive letters from them. They soon 
 wrote. In the meantime the doctor had been instructed to 
 deliver to me any and all letters that might arrive. He did 
 so for a time, and that without censoring. As was to be ex- 
 pected, after nearly three practically letterless years, I found 
 rare delight in replying to my re-awakened correspondents. 
 Yet some of these letters, written for the deliberate purpose 
 of re-establishing myself in the sane world, were destroyed by 
 the doctor in authority. At the time, not one word did he 
 say to me about the matter. I had handed him for maihng 
 certain letters, unsealed. He did not mail them, nor did he 
 forward them to my conservator as he should have done, 
 and had earlier agreed to do with all letters which he 
 could not see his way clear to approve. It was fully a 
 month before I learned that my friends had not received my 
 replies to their letters. Then I accused the doctor of de- 
 stroying them, and he, with belated frankness, admitted that 
 he had done so. He offered no better excuse for his action 
 than the mere statement that he did not approve of the sen- 
 timents I had expressed. Another flagrant and typical in- 
 stance of such interference was that of a letter addressed to 
 me in reply to one which I had mailed surreptitiously. The 
 person to whom I wrote, a friend of years' standing, later 
 informed me that he had sent the reply. I never received 
 it. Neither did my conservator. Were it not that I feel 
 absolutely sure that the letter in question was received at 
 the hospital and destroyed, I should not now raise this point. 
 
222 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 But such a point, if raised at all, must of course be made 
 without that direct proof which can come only from the 
 man guilty of an act which in the sane world is regarded as 
 odious and criminal. If a crime in the sane world, surely 
 it is doubly a crime when its commission injures a person 
 already stripped of most of his privileges by the laws of 
 the State. 
 
 My experience in this respect was not exceptional. I 
 know in my own heart that during the past year thousands 
 of the inmates of our asylums have been subjected to like 
 unjust treatment, and during the past century, tens of thou- 
 sands. At this very moment many patients quite 
 capable of writing fairly lucid, even sane, letters, are, for 
 any one of a number of reasons, kept out of touch 
 with relatives and friends. These sjonpathizers would 
 gladly keep in closer touch with the afflicted ones, if they 
 were advised to do so by the hospital authorities. But, 
 instead of encouraging such beneficial intercourse, doctors, 
 with few exceptions, at least tacitly discourage it. Occa- 
 sionally those in authority frankly advise against it. When 
 such advice is given the doctors explain at plausible length 
 that the receiving and reading of messages from home tends 
 I to excite the patient — especially when the patient first enters 
 I an institution. To my mind this procedure is wrong. It 
 is, indeed, worse than an error of judgment. It is a posi- 
 tive cruelty. The patient when committed has enough to 
 contend against without being forced to fight for his life and 
 liberty imsupported by messages from those he loves — or, 
 for that matter, even temporarily hates. The first weeks of 
 exile are the ones which determine the patient's attitude 
 toward his new and distressing environment. If to a pa- 
 tient's sense of loneliness there be added the suspicion or 
 belief that his relatives and friends have forsaken him, does 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 223 
 
 it not stand to reason that his recovery will be retarded, if, 
 indeed, the consequent dejection does not forever render 
 recovery impossible? 
 
 I do not exaggerate when I say that this interference with 
 a privilege which is part of the birthright of every American 
 citizen causes more anguish among the insane than physical 
 abuse. One can suffer an incredible amount of physical 
 abuse, and forget and forgive. But the opening and illegal 
 confiscating of letters is nothing short of dishonorable in 
 the eyes of men and women brought up to respect the 
 sealed messages of others. The moment a patient proves 
 to himself — and the proof is seldom wanting — that his 
 mail is being tampered with, that moment he loses all confi- 
 dence in the doctors. As insanity itself in a majority of 
 cases is characterized by an inordinate suspicion of others, 
 is it sensible or scientific for a management to forever under- 
 mine the very grounds of belief that must be established if a 
 recovery is to be hastened, or ever secured ? 
 
 I will admit that there may be an occasional instance 
 where messages from home might prove detrimental, but 
 such cases are so rare as to justify my contention that every 
 patient, from the moment of commitment, should be allowed 
 a high degree of liberty in the matter of correspondence. 
 His letters, both incoming and outgoing, should not be sub- 
 jected to the scrutiny of officials whose burdensome duties 
 so often render impossible anything like a fair inspection of 
 the patients' mail. Indeed, the only type of physician that 
 deserves to be invested with powers of censorship is that, I 
 regret to say, rare type of man who is so interested in his 
 work that he desires to read letters for the purpose of judg- 
 ing, with scientific precision, a patient's state of mind at a 
 given time. Without question, written thoughts furnish an 
 invaluable basis for diagnosis, and to deprive a high-minded 
 
224 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 psychiatrist of the privilege of scientific scrutiny of mail- 
 matter — which term I use in contradistinction to scrutiny 
 of the more common, self-protecting sort condemned — 
 would no doubt work an injustice to all concerned. Never- 
 theless, in view of the fact that comparatively few physicians 
 working among the insane seem able to censor mail in the 
 right rather than the wrong spirit, I feel safe in recommend- 
 ing that a letter written by a patient should be sent without 
 censoring, or not be sent at all. Inasmuch as a psychia- 
 trist genuinely interested in the welfare of a given patient 
 will, perforce, be on the best of terms with his conservator, 
 and, in most instances, with the patient himself, it will be an 
 easy matter for him to secure copies of a patient's letters — 
 or the originals — simply by stating his reasons to the con- 
 servator and asking for what he wants. In this way, free- 
 dom of communication with the outside world may be main- 
 tained and the interests of the patient — and physician — 
 conserved. In contending that letters written by a patient 
 should be forwarded unopened, unread, I do not mean that 
 the inmate of an asylum should be permitted to write to any 
 and all persons. For his own protection, and the protection 
 of the pubhc, he should be allowed to write only to those des- 
 ignated by the persons who effect his commitment, provided 
 the list contain at least one other name besides that of his 
 appointed conservator. This second person should be one 
 who is interested in the welfare of the patient, for it fre- 
 quently happens that the legally appointed conservator is 
 derelict in his duty. A committed person should be per- 
 mitted to write at will to his conservator, and to the one 
 other person selected by himself — or selected for him, 
 should he himself express no choice. In addition to these 
 two persons, as many other relatives and friends should be 
 placed on the list as the conservator may see fit to designate. 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 225 
 
 Such an arrangement would relieve the doctors both of work 
 and of responsibility. Instead of censoring every letter, as 
 they now feel called upon to do, they would need only to 
 satisfy themselves that a patient's letter was addressed to 
 some one of his authorized correspondents.^ 
 
 An objection which the doctors have in the past enter- 
 tained toward this suggestion is that the patient will perhaps 
 use improper language in his letters. It cannot be denied 
 that in every such hospital there are always a few patients 
 whose condition of mind will impel them to write with a 
 brutal frankness likely to offend the taste of the fastidious. 
 The fact is, however, that there are no patients at any time 
 in any hospital whose letters will seriously offend the sensi- 
 bilities of the two or three selected representatives whose 
 bounden duty it is to share the afflicted one's burden. 
 Surely a patient's letters need not distress his relatives and 
 friends more than his unwilling silence. Further, let such 
 relatives and friends ask themselves whether they would 
 rather be obliged to read or, alas! to write such letters. 
 
 Those patients whose mental disease is of a form charac- 
 terized by prevarication — a kind not common — will soon 
 prove the fact in their letters. After that fact has been 
 proved the recipients of the letters will be able to judge their 
 contents and act accordingly. Such lies can do no one harm, 
 and the mere telling of them may, perhaps, do the patient 
 good. It seems to be an almost universal belief that the 
 statements of insane persons are to be regarded with a de- 
 gree of suspicion that amounts to disbelief. On this point 
 
 1 In some States the law provides that a patient may write to designated 
 State officials and that such letters shall be forwarded, uncensored. As far 
 as it goes it is a good law. But how far does it go ? Would it not be better to 
 put and keep the patient in close and honest touch with relatives and friends 
 by adopting some such plan as I have ventured to suggest ? Blood is thicker 
 and warmer than the chilly waters of impersonal officialism. 
 16 
 
 1 • 
 
226 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 I feel qualified to speak. Aside from delusions (which have 
 nothing to do with the question) there is, I am sure, not a 
 less degree of truth spoken among a given number of insane 
 persons than among a like number of sane persons indis- 
 criminately selected. The insane, as a class, are the most 
 outspoken speakers of the truth to be found anywhere, in that 
 respect rivaling the proverbial child. Freed from the restrain- 
 ing conventions of polite society, if they have an opinion to 
 offer they rid themselves of it without reserve. And it is this 
 very freedom of expression (aside from delusions) which, in 
 my opinion, puts the statement of the average insane person 
 on a par with the reserved, self-interested, and frequently 
 biased statements of the average sane member of society at 
 large. I argue with one thought in mind: that the inmates 
 of an asylum are, on the whole, as well qualified to teU the 
 truth regarding its abuses as the inhabitants of the sane 
 world are to describe abuses in their respective spheres of 
 activity. 
 
 As conditions now are, hundreds of these true accounts 
 of abuse are each year confiscated by those, directly of in- 
 directly, guilty of it. And much that makes the fives of the 
 inmates so miserable has continued so long because of the 
 ease with which a careless, if not criminal, management may 
 cover its tracks. A due observance of the Hberty of corre- 
 spondence would go far to destroy this unjust immunity. 
 Physicians to-day often declare that their one thought in 
 controUing the correspondence of an insane charge is that 
 he may thus be kept in a calm and peaceful state of mind. 
 But their real motive is likely to be nothing more than a sel- 
 fish — if not cowardly — desire to protect themselves 
 against well merited criticism by the pubfic. Oftentimes 
 this self-protecting attitude of the medical staff may be traced 
 to the known but not openly expressed wish of a timid Board 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 227 
 
 of Trustees, or to the wish of supposedly influential poli- 
 ticians, who perhaps ask no more of the management of an 
 institution than that it shall so conduct affairs as to avoid 
 "investigations" or so-called "hospital scandals." Thus 
 the sick insane are made to suffer, for no better reason, 
 apparently, than that certain sane persons in positions of 
 responsibihty may escape annoyance. 
 
 What will put an end to this disgraceful state of affairs? 
 Many elaborate statutes would seem, on their face, to pro- 
 tect patients against every imaginable abuse. Yet they fail, 
 and will continue to fail, until there is a militant public sen- 
 timent of sufficient strength to coerce the several hospital 
 managements into a vigilant and considerate activity. The 
 lasting correction of evils lies with the public, therefore it 
 behooves each individual to contribute his word or deed to 
 the total effect. 
 
XXIX 
 
 The central problem in the care of the insane is the 
 elimination of actual physical abuse. What I have nar- 
 rated from my own experience and from the experiences 
 of others makes clear enough the nature of the average 
 attendant. Under a bad regime their baser natures grad- 
 ually gain the mastery. Surprising as it may seem, many 
 an assault is due in the last analysis to a wanton desire to 
 satisfy what amounts to a craving for human blood. This 
 fact is well illustrated in the remark of an attendant, in the 
 Kentucky institution already referred to, who said, "When 
 I came here if any one had told me that I would be guilty 
 of striking a patient I would have called him crazy himself, 
 but now I take delight in punching hell out of them." 
 
 What is responsible for the development of the brutal 
 attendant and his continued existence? 
 
 In the first place, not only do locks and bars protect men 
 mean enough to abuse the helpless, the sense of security 
 itself really inspires them to wicked deeds. And this feeling 
 of security is strengthened by the knowledge that chance 
 witnesses can but rarely testify convincingly in a court of 
 law. Being removed from the restraining influence of sane 
 eyes, the attendant does not fear to abuse, or (the vicious 
 type) even sometimes to kill a patient. At the worst he sees no 
 greater penalty in store for him than the loss of his position. 
 The chance of arrest and trial is so remote as to escape 
 consideration; and a trial has few terrors for such attend- 
 ants as are arrested, for acquittal is almost certain. In- 
 
 228 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 229 
 
 deed, on those rare occasions when attendants happen to be 
 indicted for murder or manslaughter, the public generally 
 gives them the benefit of the doubt, assuming that their work 
 is highly dangerous, and arguing that the occasional sacrifice 
 of the life of an insane patient is unavoidable, therefore jus- 
 tifiable. In this the public is in error, for, though the work 
 in question may be, and at times is, harassing, it is, by no 
 means, peculiarly hazardous. The number of unprovoked 
 attacks made upon attendants by insane patients is, in fact, 
 small, and would become almost negligible were all patients 
 treated kindly from the moment of commitment. 
 
 But can we put all the blame on attendants for assaulting 
 patients when the management shows no aggressive disposi- 
 tion to protect the latter? Such indifference is far more 
 reprehensible than the cowardly conduct of ill-paid men, the 
 majority of whom have had few advantages of education. 
 The professional thug-attendant who, when a fellow-attend- 
 ant is assaulting a patient, deliberately turns his back so 
 that he may say, if ever questioned, that he saw no assault, 
 is, in my opinion, less deserving of censure than those doc- 
 tors who, knowing that brutality is common in their institu- 
 tion, weakly resign themselves to what they call "conditions." 
 
 Much of the suffering among the insane to-day is, in my 
 opinion, due to the giving of too much authority to assistant 
 physicians. Many of them, especially the young and inex- 
 perienced, are not to be trusted implicitly. Or, if they are 
 to be given almost absolute authority over the patients in 
 wards assigned to their care, let the superintendent exercise 
 his authority to set aside any order which he may deem in- 
 expedient or unjust. All superintendents have such author- 
 ity. What I wish to emphasize is that they too often fail to 
 exercise it. As a result of their laxness, or timidity — a 
 timidity perhaps inspired by a misconception of the ethics 
 
230 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 of their profession — the helpless patient is permitted un- 
 necessarily to suffer; and, I regret to record, frequently is 
 this suffering of the patient due to what seems a selfish de- 
 sire of the superintendent to preserve peace in his official 
 family — the medical staff. OfiScial peace at such a price 
 amounts to crime.^ 
 
 But quite as culpable as lax discipline is the selfish desire 
 on the part of doctors in authority to escape annoying inves- 
 tigations. When it does happen that they cannot avoid 
 reporting felonious assaults or suspected m^urders to the 
 proper authorities, their action, I regret to say, is too often in 
 mere self-defense, and not from a righteous desire to protect 
 their patients. Knowing that the battered and mutilated 
 condition of the corpse, or a living victim of abuse, for that 
 matter, will arouse suspicion on the part of the relatives of 
 the victim, those in authority sometimes take the initiative 
 in order to "save their face." In making this assertion I am 
 well within the bounds of charity and truth, and the conduct 
 of this type of doctor at the subsequent trial invariably is 
 such as to support my contention. This behavior is quite 
 human; for, let it be borne in mind that almost every honest 
 investigation into these suspicious deaths reveals a greater 
 or less degree — sometimes a criminal degree — of neglect 
 on the part of the doctors themselves. If cornered at last 
 by an aroused public opinion they are too ready to shift the 
 responsibility upon the ignorant and untrained attendants 
 
 ^ Of course there is much to be said in favor of giving a high degree 
 of authority to an assistant physician, — provided his commanding officer, 
 the superintendent, be a man whose own standard of efficiency is so high 
 that he will, perforce, support his co-workers in their eiTorts to produce the 
 best results. Thus a young physician, instead of having, at the very begin- 
 ing of his career, all ambition and initiative ground out of him by that 
 sodden and fatal sort of hospital routine into which he is so often forced to 
 sink, will have an opportunity to develop into a man of capacity and in- 
 creased usefulness. 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 231 
 
 whose brutality is but the reflex of the doctors' indifference, 
 neglect, or cowardice. But this is the last resort. Usually 
 they will first equivocate to the verge of deliberate false- 
 hood. They will outrun the public by giving the benefit of 
 all doubts to the attendants. Not to do so would in many 
 cases cause the accused to turn on them and reveal condi- 
 tions they would prefer to hide. Human nature, like Nature 
 herself, is influenced by immutable laws. Self-interest is apt 
 to kill one's higher feelings. To fight the fight of the op- 
 pressed, the outraged, the dead, too frequently forces one to 
 abandon a chosen career. Therefore, the still voice of a 
 timid conscience whispers (in a perverted sense): "Let the 
 dead bury their dead." 
 
 I cannot lay too much stress on this absolute fact: that ^^ 
 hospital managements deliberately, wilfully, and selfishly 
 suppress evidence which, if presented to the proper author- 
 ities, would lead to the conviction of guilty attendants, and 
 eventually to their almost complete elimination from asylums. / 
 Several instances of such suppression have come to my^ 
 attention since my discharge, two of which I shall now cite. 
 During the summer of 1907, a Committee of Investigation 
 appointed by the Legislature of the State of New Jersey, un- 
 covered, several months after the commission of the crime, 
 the suppressed evidence of the murder of a patient by at- 
 tendants at the Trenton State Hospital. On the witness- 
 stand the hospital official in authority admitted that the 
 attendants had killed the patient and that their only punish- 
 ment had been their prompt discharge as employees. He 
 further admitted that the "scandal" had been deliberately 
 suppressed, and that no evidence or report of the crime had 
 been submitted to the proper authorities as is, of course, 
 required by law. So skilfully was this crime concealed that 
 even the wife of the victim was unable to learn the cause of 
 
232 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 her husband's death until the investigators laid bare the facts. 
 And this same Committee of Investigation uncovered an- 
 other alleged and, to my mind, proved murder in another 
 State Hospital for the Insane — at Morris Plains, New Jer- 
 sey. Here, again, the "scandal" (a hospital euphemism for 
 "murder" and lesser crimes) was "hushed-up" or "white- 
 washed." When it was finally dragged into the light of 
 day, what happened? Those in authority, making char- 
 acteristic use of the ignorance of the pubHc regarding such 
 matters, brazenly, I think, denied in sweeping terms, and 
 under oath, the incriminating evidence of supposedly cred- 
 ible witnesses. If an investigation in New Jersey can re- 
 veal two unreported murders that occurred within a year in 
 two State Hospitals, how many such crimes would be un- 
 earthed should the two hundred and twenty-six public and 
 one hundred and two private hospitals for the insane in this 
 country be honestly investigated ? The probable figure is too 
 appalling to print. 
 
 Hospital" managements (not only the doctors, but the 
 trustees as well) are too often cowardly bodies of men. They 
 shun publicity, and thereby sacrifice the well-being of their 
 unfortunate charges. If they would act promptly and rig- 
 orously when abuse is even suspected, they would need have 
 no fear that the public would not support them. But, so 
 long as they continue to suppress facts which no good citizen 
 in the sane world would dare or wish to suppress, just so 
 long will they stand in danger of being dragged into a com- 
 promising prominence by those reformers who, from time 
 to time, Hke Dorothea Lynde Dix, succeed in penetrating 
 the mysteries of their exclusive society. Nor can they surely 
 tell when and where the lightning of accusation will strike. 
 And if, instead of sporadic lightning, the steady glow of 
 enlightenment shall obtain, present incompetent servants of 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 233 
 
 the public will correct their costly faults, or be forced to seek 
 employment in other fields where their innate deficiencies 
 will interfere with no one's happiness but their own. 
 
 For bringing the facts to light the method of procedure 
 would be simple. Let each Governor, or each State Legis- 
 lature, appoint an irreproachable Committee of Investigation. 
 Give that Commission as much power both to investigate 
 and to recommend legislation as was given to the "Arm- 
 strong Committee" of the State of New York, which, in the 
 year 1905, so effectively investigated the Life Insurance 
 Companies. There should be no taint of politics in such a 
 Commission. Common decency and the Golden Rule 
 should conspire in its appointment and in its work. 
 
 There should be a country-wide clean-up. Not only 
 should existing evils be brought to light; but any abuses 
 found to have existed during the two or three years preced- 
 ing an investigation should be revealed and pubhshed to the 
 world. And the inmates must have a fair hearing — a 
 thing they have seldom enjoyed. I do not advocate hostile 
 investigations. Nevertheless, the whole truth should be 
 obtained regardless of whom it hits or hurts. The spirit 
 of improvement, not prosecution, should control. Though 
 hospital officials, and others able to throw light on the situa- 
 tion, should be subjected to rigorous examination, under 
 oath, investigators should strive to bring out and empha- 
 size facts which will lead to a permanent improvement of 
 conditions, rather than to give undue prominence to the more 
 spectacular evidence of abuses. Inquiry into the condition 
 of the patients themselves should be the prime consideration. 
 This line of investigation will inevitably lead to the uncov- 
 ering — where they exist — of the lesser evils of careless, 
 
234 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 extravagant, or, in some instances, dishonest management of 
 funds. 
 
 Inasmuch as hospitals for the insane are the closest of 
 "close corporations," it is essential that the investigators 
 and the hospital officials (including Trustees or Managers) 
 should meet with an honest desire to improve conditions 
 permanently. They should not meet, as they have done so 
 often in the past, with the selfish desire to "white- wash" and 
 thus fool the pubHc into beheving conditions better than they 
 are. Such reports of investigations as I have read support 
 my contention that members of the medical staff of a hos- 
 pital for the insane are prone to offer excuses, rather than 
 give reasons for such abuses as are disclosed by the examin- 
 ing authority. And these excuses are usually so plausible 
 as to defeat, in many instances, the purposes of an investi- 
 gation. For generations, doctors working among the insane 
 have had to hide facts, until, finally, convincing evasion 
 of fact has become with them an unconscious art. I do 
 not mean to say that the officials in question deliberately 
 and habitually lie in order to deceive the pubUc. But I 
 do say that, having for years been forced by apathetic repre- 
 sentatives of the public to work with crude equipment and 
 inadequate support, these men have fallen into the weak 
 habit of looking at problems of hospital administration from 
 a disheartened and apologetic point of view. Given a wrong 
 point of view, the rest has been very simple, for so few lay- 
 men know what earnest and unremitting effort might ac- 
 complish in this field that the plausible and veiled excuses 
 of hospital officials are commonly accepted as coin of full 
 weight. 
 
 Fortunately the securing of the whole truth does not de- 
 pend upon skilful apologists — or upon those whose standard 
 of truth has been lowered by years of enforced shoulder- 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 235 
 
 ing of the public's shortcomings. In every improperly con- 
 ducted institution there will be found a few attendants, both 
 men and women, who at heart loathe the conditions under 
 which they are compelled to get their livelihood. These 
 would welcome an opportunity to tell the truth and help 
 correct the evils which so offend their better natures. The 
 only incentive they need is a knowledge that the public will 
 support them in a course which, if pursued independently, 
 would probably be met with incredulity, and could result 
 only in their discharge. It is mainly on such a nucleus of 
 witnesses that I rest my complete confidence in the efficacy 
 of any honestly conducted investigation — provided the 
 testimony adduced be given the publicity it deserves. 
 
 Though hospital officials will say, with tiuth, that pub- 
 lic investigations — impending or in progress — seriously 
 interfere with the routine work of the medical staff, and 
 bring distress to relatives of the inmates by arousing, in 
 many instances, unwarranted fears, these considerations, to 
 my mind, are of no moment compared to the advantages 
 that will be gained by treating a disgrace of heroic propor- 
 tions with a remedy equally heroic. In order to effect last- 
 ing reforms this whole subject must first be brought home to 
 the people. And nothing short of the public investigation 
 of enjery institution where the insane are confined can bring 
 about the desired result. The interest of the people in a 
 given territory can be effectively roused in one way only, and 
 that is by investigating the particular hospitals wherein the 
 insane of a given community are confined. In this way, 
 provided every hospital for the insane, not forgetting the 
 private ones, be investigated, interest would be aroused 
 throughout the country, for few communities are without 
 afflicted representation in the institutions under discussion. 
 One word more. Investigators should begin and conclude 
 
236 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 their labors with dispatch. Let the whole distressing situa- 
 tion be cleared up within a few months after the anticipated 
 country-wide agitation shall be begun. Te let matters drag 
 would be an injustice to all concerned, — especially to the 
 patients themselves. 
 
 In conspicuous instances the investigations will reveal a 
 satisfactory state of affairs. Fortunately there are a num- 
 ber of institutions managed by men both honorable and 
 capable. Such managements have nothing to fear. In 
 fact, they will only receive that credit which of right should 
 redound to those who, in the midst of unfavorable conditions, 
 and in spite of a dormant public, have so nobly discharged 
 their duty to the least safeguarded of the world's unfortunates. 
 
 With the complete record of past and present conditions 
 before the public, those responsible for the evils exposed 
 should be offered one more chance of service. This chari- 
 table attitude should be adhered to, except in those instances 
 where officials under examination stubbornly refuse to co-op- 
 erate with a committee of investigation, — or where doctors 
 or attendants have been proved guilty of an offense that 
 cannot, in justice to the patients and to the public, be for- 
 given. But, even in such cases as the latter, charity should 
 prevail; and, in view of the fact that these guilty men are, in 
 a way, victims of a vicious system, they should be simply 
 discharged, rather than branded forever as criminals. 
 
 No doubt many persons, particularly politicians who 
 consider the success of their respective parties of more con- 
 sequence than the comfort and happiness of a constituency 
 bereft of reason and the right to vote, will feel that it would 
 be a waste of time to lay bare a distressing, perhaps disgust- 
 ing, account of brutalities covering a period that has passed. 
 If my insight into a situation of this kind is worth anything, 
 the public will do well to weigh my words before listening 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 237 
 
 to the biased opinions of those who fear the truth. An 
 investigation covering a short period would be an injustice 
 either to the inmates of an institution or to its management, 
 or, indeed, to both. A guihy management, anticipating an 
 investigation, could and would temporarily correct all discov- 
 erable abuses. This very thing has often happened, and 
 always will happen so long as the instinct of self-preservation 
 persists. Doctors who voluntarily have never lifted a finger 
 to protect their patients against abuse sit up nights to cor- 
 rect abuses the moment an investigation becomes imminent 
 — thus proving how easily their vigilance could be perma- 
 nently maintained. 
 
 I shall cite a case in point. I have already made brief 
 mention of a stroke of reform brought about in Kentucky 
 through the efforts of an ex-attendant. It was during the 
 month of September, 1906, that I happened to be traveling in 
 that State. As already mentioned I chanced to pick up a copy 
 of the Louisville Courier- Journal, in which I saw a heading 
 that caught my eye and soon gripped my heart. It read as 
 follows: "SAYS PATIENT WAS KILLED — Charge 
 Publicly Made By Ex- Attendant." This "ex-attendant," 
 whom I now number among my friends, was over six feet in 
 height and proportionately powerful. Because of his great 
 strength, upon entering the hospital he was at once assigned 
 to a so-called "back ward." He demurred at his assignment, 
 preferring to work in a ward where the patients were com- 
 paratively happy. But the doctors made their orders peremp- 
 tory — much to their later regret. For, in the course of 
 his work, this full-blooded man saw sights which so out- 
 raged his manhood that he protested vehemently to the 
 authorities. His protest went unheeded so long as he re- 
 mained in the employ of the State. At last, when a helpless 
 patient had been killed by his brutal co-workers, he resigned 
 
238 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 and forced the management to take heed by bringing the 
 matter before the Governor of Kentucky who ordered an 
 investigation. Then, of course, abuses which might incrimi- 
 nate were virtually corrected in a night. Brutality ceased. 
 Attendants who, on many occasions, had bathed in a single 
 tubful of water as many as fifty men, some of whom had 
 pestilential sores on their bodies, immediately adopted a 
 more sanitary method; and whereas, under the old method, 
 the inmates of an entire ward had been run through a mass 
 of cumulative filth within two or three hours, under the en- 
 forced sanitary reform it took a like corps of attendants — 
 if not the same men — the better part of two days to com- 
 plete their task.^ Does not this wonderful change in 
 methods (if not change of heart) prove how efficacious 
 an aroused and outraged public opinion can really be? 
 I say, then, it behooves the public to assume part of the 
 burden of the afilicted and oppressed insane by compelling 
 the several managements to work as well every day in 
 the year as they do when an investigation impends or is 
 in progress. 
 
 One might attempt to justify the retention of an at- 
 tendant of known brutality by saying cavalierly that one 
 vicious attendant is as good as another. This is quite 
 true, but it does not excuse the employment of any vicious 
 attendants. Nor can a valid excuse for so doing be devised. 
 Acceptable if not model attendants can be found if deter- 
 
 1 These statements regarding improper methods of bathing — an almost 
 universal abuse in hospitals for the insane — are based on an affidavit given 
 me by the "ex-attendant" who instigated the Kentucky investigation. 
 Though the aforementioned abuse is vi'idespread, its remedy is within easy 
 reach. Let hospital managements abolish stationary tubs entirely and 
 install in their stead modem shower baths and the like. However, any law 
 or rule governing this matter should not be so strict as to prevent the use of 
 a tub in the giving of the so-called " continuous bath" to excited patients. 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 239 
 
 mined efforts are made. Weakly taking for granted that 
 the riff-raff which drifts from one hospital to another must 
 be accepted, the doctors seldom think of actively searching 
 for good material. Yet, in my opinion, this is one of their 
 prime duties. No other detail of management is more im- 
 portant. The difficulty is not insurmoimtable. There are 
 not a few superintendents who have little trouble in secur- 
 ing an adequate number of fairly competent attendants, but 
 these are usually the heads of institutions conducted on 
 Non-Restraint principles. This fact is not surprising. The 
 better element among those who seek employment as attend- 
 ants, naturally look for it where the patients are treated with 
 the most consideration; for there the lot of the attendants 
 is not only bearable, but, oftentimes, a happy one. 
 
 Brutal attendants are arrant cowards. They would fear 
 to lose their positions more than do most classes of workers, 
 if they were made to realize that the slightest infraction of 
 the rules will insure immediate dismissal. The trouble to- 
 day is that superintendents, generally, do not enforce rules 
 to the point of dismissal. Thus do those in authority lose a 
 sure opportunity to frighten brutal men into at least a sem- 
 blance of merciful behavior- Why employ brutal men at 
 all? the reader may wonder. As well ask: why employ 
 dishonest men as clerks and officers in banks. Evil forces 
 must ever be reckoned with; therefore it is incumbent on 
 those in authority to adopt a proper system of espionage, 
 the enforcement of which will reduce evils to a minimum. 
 There is scarcely a department of the Federal Government 
 where just such a system is not now in operation. In busi- 
 ness too — especially its more highly developed branches — 
 "supervision" is a watchword. Surely, if the sane find it 
 necessary to watch those whose work is carried on under the 
 eyes of the sane, and in the sane world, is it ,not more neces- 
 
240 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 sary to watch those thousands whose work is done behind 
 the locked doors of asylums? The first step in the enforce- 
 ment of such a system would be a thorough understanding 
 between the superintendent and attendants at the time the 
 latter enter upon their duties. Instead of turning a new 
 attendant over to the old attendants for training, as is so 
 often done, those in authority should themselves assume 
 the task of instruction. To be sure, a majority of our super- 
 intendents to-day give words of advice to the newly-hired, 
 but seldom do these preliminary admonitions carry weight. 
 Those in authority should impress upon the mind of the 
 novice the fact that his is a responsible position, and that 
 he must discharge his duties humanely, or submit to sum- 
 mary dismissal; and especially should male attendants be 
 so instructed, for few men are wilHng to take the course of 
 training which some of our hospitals now offer. Further- 
 more, attendants — new and old — should be frankly in- 
 formed that, from time to time, under the estabhshed system 
 of espionage, personal representatives of the management 
 (spies, if you like) will find their way into the several wards. 
 These detectives may pose either as attendants or as patients 
 and report to the superintendent. A consciousness of the 
 presence of sane eyes will prove salutary. 
 
 Who then will watch the superintendent who watches his 
 subordinates? A fair question. Let the public watch and 
 assist him through the instrumentality of a society, organized, 
 of course, for the friendly purpose of co-operation and not 
 with any avowed hostility toward hospital managements. No 
 efiicient superintendent ever resents a close or even continued 
 inspection of his institution. And no competent assistant 
 physician or capable attendant would resent an espionage 
 which is designed for the protection of the helpless. Such 
 continued supervision, by eliminating the inefficient, would 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 241 
 
 work to the advantage of the efficient men holding these 
 positions, and would in a comparatively short time raise the 
 standard of treatment to a humane level. 
 
 If, also, attendants were made to realize that a dishonor- 
 able discharge from one institution would forever bar them 
 from all others, they would soon learn their lesson. A man 
 about to be entrusted with the valuables of others is seldom 
 employed by a commercial institution without a satisfactory 
 certificate of character. Can we tolerate less care in the 
 employing of men and women to whom such a valuable as 
 a human soul is to be entrusted? Yet in a majority of our 
 institutions to-day little care is exercised in the selection of 
 help. Indeed, hospitals for the insane seldom have a full 
 complement of attendants, and a random applicant stands 
 an excellent chance of employment. Hundreds of these 
 "unknowns" are now lording it over insane patients. 
 
 It is true that so-called black-lists are kept by groups of 
 hospitals in different sections of the country; yet these 
 prove of little avail, inasmuch as an attendant discharged, 
 say, by an institution in New England, can go immediately 
 to another section — the Middle States, for instance — and 
 usually secure a position. Indeed, by applying for a posi- 
 tion under a false name and telling the requisite number of 
 lies to complete the illusion of a new identity, these dis- 
 charged attendants often secure positions in hospitals which 
 maintain for their mutual protection one of these relatively 
 ineffective black-lists. I know of instances of such failure on 
 the part of the existing system. A National Society, at 
 comparatively small expense, could establish and operate 
 a country-wide black-list which would effectually eliminate 
 undesirable workers from among the ranks of hospital 
 employees. 
 
 As a preliminary measure — and added protection — I 
 17 
 
242 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 advocate a universal statute making it at least a misdemeanor 
 for any man or woman, dishonorably discharged from one 
 such institution, to accept a position in another; and like- 
 wise a misdemeanor for any doctor in authority in a state or 
 private hospital to employ as an attendant any man or woman 
 whose references do not indicate a good record and some fit- 
 ness for the work. A sworn statement on these points from 
 each attendant, when engaged (together with his thumb-print, 
 as a means of identification), would protect the doctors, and 
 this statement, if untrue, would serve as a basis for crim- 
 inal prosecution. The moral effect of such a statute would 
 be such as to render its enforcement seldom necessary. Bru- 
 tal and dishonest attendants would thus be forced into other 
 lines of work, in which they might perhaps become useful 
 members of society, or, at least, no longer a menace to soci- 
 ety's defenceless portion. 
 
 We must admit that the problem of securing efi&ciency 
 among attendants is not an easy one. To make it easier 
 several improvements must be made in the lot of the attend- 
 ants themselves. For one thing, the niggardly salaries now 
 offered make it extremely difficult for a management to secure 
 or keep the right type. Competent men and women can 
 earn two or three times as much in other and more con- 
 genial lines of endeavor. The average scale of wages for 
 attendants in hospitals for the insane ranges from sixteen 
 to twenty-four dollars a month, with room and board. 
 Women usually receive sixteen or eighteen dollars at the be- 
 ginning; men from eighteen to twenty, though the rates vary 
 throughout the coimtry. There is a slight margin, too, for an 
 increase in salary, but even the exceptionally able attendants 
 seldom receive more than thirty dollars a month. This 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 243 
 
 bespeaks a false, a vicious economy. Not that the average 
 attendant deserves a cent more than he receives; but would it 
 not be wiser, more humane, and, in the end, cheaper, to offer 
 inducements calculated to attract to this neglected field of 
 service a higher type of character ? — nay, and keep him 
 there, for nothing is more demoralizing than the constant 
 changing that goes on in the ranks of the present attendants. 
 To offer a wage of, say, forty, with a maximum of fifty 
 dollars a month, including board and room, would, no 
 doubt, be a move in the right direction. 
 
 However, such a merely pecuniary inducement would 
 nor, of itself, accomplish the purpose. Indeed, alone, it 
 might defeat the purpose. For, after discussing this prob- 
 lem with doctors who have employed attendants, I am 
 brought to the conclusion that increased wages, unaccom- 
 panied by increased and deserved privileges, and more whole- 
 some and refined surroundings, would probably appeal only 
 to burly workers in rougher fields. Wages high enough to 
 attract a more refined type are, at the present stage of 
 hospital development, out of the question; whereas privileges 
 and refining influences might even now be brought to bear 
 with excellent effect. Model dormitories, and separate cot- 
 tages for married employees, instead of mere sleeping places, 
 shorter and less exhausting hours, and proper places in 
 which the extra leisure could be enjoyed — a library, billiard 
 room, etc., — these would go farther than money toward the 
 great task of refinement. It is unfair to keep an attendant 
 on duty twelve or fifteen hours a day (these are now the 
 common working hours) and for the balance of his time con- 
 fine him to his ward under restrictions nearly as irksome as 
 those to which the patients themselves must perforce submit. 
 A few States, notably New York and Massachusetts, have 
 granted appropriations for the creation of such conditions 
 
244 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 as I am describing. If these appropriations were enlarged, 
 and if other States followed the same policy, it is safe to pre- 
 dict that thousands of refined men and women would enter 
 this field who are now debarred. And once in the work they 
 should be offered the same chances for advancement as are 
 offered to employees in any well conducted commercial es- 
 tablishment. Such a policy, carried to its logical conclusion, 
 would include also a system of pensions for those attendants 
 who should devote the better part of their lives to this noble 
 service. 
 
 Still another effective means of eliminating brutality by 
 the introduction of refining influences would consist in the 
 wider employment of women nurses in men's wards. To 
 the uninitiated this suggestion will no doubt seem ill-advised; 
 yet, at this moment, there are in this country — and abroad, 
 as well, — some hospitals for the insane where women nurses, 
 assisted, of course, by orderlies, as are nurses in general 
 hospitals, are managing men's wards with gratifying suc- 
 cess.* What is needed is a general adoption of this humane 
 practice. Not all classes of male patients can safely or 
 advantageously be placed in charge of women nurses; but 
 other classes — the more intelligent and less disturbed — 
 comprising thousands, can, if anything, be managed better 
 by women of capacity than by men of any sort. The supe- 
 rior tact and quicker sympathy of women — God-given qual- 
 ities — work wonders among insane men quite as readily as 
 in the sane world. It cannot be denied that under the pres- 
 ent regime women nurses in charge of troublesome women 
 patients have not been entirely free from charges of cruelty; 
 indeed, the contrary has been proved, as the results of inves- 
 tigations show — but they are far less subject to this charge 
 
 * See article on this subject by Dr. Charles P. Bancroft, in American 
 Journal of Insanity, Vol. LXIII, No. 2, October, 1906. 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 245 
 
 than men attendants. According to those superintendents 
 who have successfully placed women nurses in charge of 
 men's wards, thousands of male patients who now suffer at 
 the hands of unfeeling and incompetent male attendants 
 could be brought under remedial and uplifting influences 
 simply by having women placed over them in positions of 
 authority. And the salutary influence of women in wards 
 where they are available would have a tendency, as ex- 
 perience has demonstrated, to spread throughout all other 
 wards where their immediate presence is impracticable or 
 unsafe. It would therefore seem desirable to substitute 
 female for male nurses wherever possible. 
 
 Such a course, too, would further simplify the problem of 
 securing an adequate number of attendants. The services 
 of women are easier to secure, and women readily take up 
 nursing as a profession — as a life-work; whereas men natu- 
 rally look upon such work simply as a means of providing a 
 livelihood until they can secure work more to their liking. 
 
 There are in this country about twenty thousand men and 
 women working as attendants in our asylums and hospitals 
 for the insane. Of this number several thousand are, with- 
 out doubt, individuals of refinement. Now, if a few thou- 
 sand persons of refinement can work under such conditions 
 as obtain so generally to-day in our hospitals and asylums, 
 is it not reasonable to suppose that improved conditions 
 would eventually attract a full complement of workers of 
 the same type? Strange as it may seem, many attendants 
 now so employed, enjoy their work and would not of their 
 own choice relinquish it. And I make bold to appeal to 
 those grinding thousands now eking out a livelihood in work 
 apparently more attractive, but, in truth, less endurable, to 
 seek improved conditions and increased usefulness in those 
 hospitals where the application of the Golden Rule to insan- 
 
246 • A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 ity is now possible. In such places a feeling of security and 
 interest soon overcomes the instinctive timidity or repugnance 
 felt by many when, in the capacity of attendants, they 
 first come in contact with the insane. Such contact, bar- 
 ring exceptional cases influenced by a too impressionable 
 temperament on the part of the nurse, renders one, as it were, 
 immune. It would surprise (perhaps annoy) many sane 
 persons, were they to realize how slightly many of the inmates 
 of asylums differ from their more fortunate brothers at large. 
 Yet among those who have been brought into close contact 
 with the insane this is a trite observation; and it is the key to 
 the problem which causes so many to wonder how and why 
 it is that men and women, at liberty to choose their voca- 
 tions, deliberately cast their lot with that portion of 
 humanity which the average person seems so willing to 
 shun. 
 
XXX 
 
 But the problem of attendants is not the only pressing 
 one. Any alienist will agree, that the cure of the insane 
 depends upon their care, and that to this end a proper 
 classification is necessary. This can be accomplished only 
 when the curable cases can be given individual attention. 
 The manifestations of insanity vary with the original tem- 
 peraments of those afflicted. Collective treatment is now 
 the rule; but not until individual treatment prevails will 
 the ratio of recoveries begin to move toward that inspiring 
 figure which due progress in the care of the insane must even- 
 tually show. For the moment each patient receives the care 
 which is his rightful portion, all abuses complained of will 
 be doomed. Such care will kill cruelty at its source. 
 
 In the general hospital there are wards set apart for the 
 treatment of certain diseases. Does any one believe that 
 twenty patients, ill with typhoid fever, should, for an indefi- 
 nite period, be given the same kind of medicine and the same 
 kind of food at the same hour each day? Such treatment 
 would result in the death of many who, with individual 
 treatment, would recover. Yet, in a single ward in a hos- 
 pital for the insane, twenty, thirty, forty, sometimes sixty, 
 sometimes more than sixty patients, each in a different state 
 of physical and mental health, are forced to submit to a uni- 
 form mode of living which, in a majority of cases, is not 
 at all conducive to their well-being. In many instances 
 this machme-like existence has been the death of patients 
 who might have been restored to health had they been given 
 exercise and diversion, and food of a quality and variety 
 
 247 
 
248 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 calculated to tempt their jaded appetites.^ It is trite to ob- 
 serve that mental health depends largely upon bodily health. 
 Since this is so, hospital managements might think less of 
 administering drugs, and what amounts to punishment, and 
 more about providing a suitable diet, exercise, and proper 
 application of what mind remains, for those whose condition 
 so clearly demands these requisites of intelligent treatment. 
 The total cost would be less. Instead of feeding and caring 
 for, year in and year out, the once curable cases become 
 chronic, the State might better spend more money for a 
 shorter period, restore the sick to health, and convert a 
 burden into a joy. 
 
 There are doctors in our State Hospitals who will tell you 
 that to treat certain cases on their merits will demoralize 
 those patients whose condition is such that individual treat- 
 ment seems unnecessary or hopeless. As most asylums are 
 now conducted, the individual treatment of the few might 
 arouse a feeling of discontent among those denied special 
 privileges. But would any such demoralization ensue if each 
 patient was treated with that consideration he so richly 
 deserves ? I know that it would not. When one patient sees 
 a fellow-patient allowed more liberty, or perhaps granted a 
 more inviting diet than himself, it is not so much a feeling of 
 jealousy or envy that seizes him — in his heart he is glad that 
 some one of his kind is given pleasure. What he rebels 
 against is the fact that he himself is denied, not special priv- 
 ileges, but those ordinary benefits which in any hospital 
 deserving of the name would be his without the asking. 
 
 1 As chances of recovery never cease to exist, and as statistics show that 
 twenty out of each hundred who recover, do so after one or more years of 
 confinement, the standard of care for even the so-called chronic cases can 
 never be lowered without robbing some patients of their rightful chance of 
 rescue. Apparently hopeless cases which recover after ten, fifteen, or twenty 
 years of absolute insanity are by no means rare, as can be proved by a 
 study of hospital records. 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 249 
 
 Another objection which the management of a state hos- 
 pital sometimes makes to the plea for individual treatment 
 is that under the law one patient is as deserving as another, 
 and that the granting of privileges, favors, etc., to the com- 
 paratively few curable cases cannot be accomplished with- 
 out working an injustice to the many whose condition does 
 not demand exceptional care. The glib way in which those 
 in authority in a state hospital prate about justice would 
 bring a smile to the face of the shy goddess who perhaps pre- 
 sides over that virtue. These expounders of Equal Rights 
 for All will refuse to alter a general and mechanical course 
 of treatment which is admittedly crude and unproductive of 
 good results ; yet these very men seem willing to discriminate 
 between patients so long as the discrimination leads not to 
 exceptional privileges but to exceptional privations. 
 
 Though those in authority are deserving of considerable 
 criticism there are many reasons why they should be treated 
 with all charity. If we are to demand that doctors treat each 
 patient as though he were the only one in the world, we 
 must, through the several State Legislatures, provide funds 
 for the proper equipment and manning of our institutions. 
 To-day there are few institutions where the doctors in charge 
 have not under their care a greater number of patients than 
 can be properly treated. Nor are there many institutions 
 regularly provided with an adequate corps of attendants. 
 Indeed, if the United States Government were to send into 
 an engagement a battleship as poorly manned as are our 
 asylums, the people would rise in their indignation and de- 
 mand that the honor of the Nation be given into other keep- 
 ing. To my, perhaps prejudiced, mind, the honor of this 
 Nation is open to attack so long as the States force, or 
 permit, great institutions to proceed in their work with de- 
 fective equipment or an inadequate complement of workers. 
 
XXXI 
 
 But more fundamental than espionage, and more funda- 
 mental than individual as opposed to collective treatment, 
 is the need of a changed spiritual attitude toward the insane. 
 They are still human : they love and hate, and have a sense 
 of humor. The worst are usually responsive to kindness. 
 In not a few cases their gratitude is livelier than that of nor- 
 mal men and women. Any person who has worked among 
 the insane, and done his duty by them, can testify to cases 
 in point, and even casual observers have noted the fact that 
 the insane are oftentimes appreciative. Consider the ex- 
 perience of Thackeray, as related by himself in "Vanity 
 Fair" (Chapter LVII). "I recollect," he writes, "seeing, 
 years ago, at the prison for idiots and madmen, at Bic^tre, 
 near Paris, a poor wretch bent down under the bondage of 
 his imprisonment and his personal infirmity, to whom one 
 of our party gave a halfpennyworth of snuff in a cornet or 
 'screw' of paper. The kindness was too much for the poor 
 epileptic creature. He cried in an anguish of delight and 
 gratitude; if anybody gave you and me a thousand a year, 
 or saved our lives, we could not be so affected." 
 
 A striking exhibition of fine feeling on the part of an in- 
 mate of an asylum was brought to my attention by an assist- 
 ant physician whom I met while inspecting a certain State 
 Hospital in Massachusetts. It seems that the patient in 
 question — a woman — while at her worst had caused an 
 endless amount of annoyance by indulging in mischievous 
 
 250 
 
A MmD THAT FOUND ITSELF 251 
 
 acts which seemed to verge on the malicious. Judged by 
 her conduct at that time no observer would have credited 
 her with the exquisite sensibility she so signally displayed 
 when she had become convalescent and was granted a 
 parole which permitted her to walk at will about the 
 hospital grounds. After one of these walks, taken in 
 the early spring, she rushed up to my informant and, with 
 childlike simplicity, told him of the thrill of delight she 
 had experienced in discovering the first flower of the year 
 in full bloom — a dandelion, which, with characteristic 
 audacity, had risked its life by braving the elements of an 
 uncertain season. 
 
 "Did you pick it?" asked the doctor. 
 
 "I stooped to do so," said the patient; ''then I thought 
 of the pleasure the sight of it had given me — so I left it, 
 hoping that some one else would discover it and enjoy its 
 beauty as I did." 
 
 Thus it was that a woman, while still insane, unconsciously 
 exhibited perhaps finer feeling than did Ruskin, Tennyson, 
 and Patmore, on an occasion the occurrence of which is 
 vouched for by Mr. Julian Hawthorne. These three masters, 
 out for a walk one chilly afternoon in late autumn, discovered 
 a belated violet bravely putting forth from the shelter of a 
 mossy stone. Not until these worthies had got down on all 
 fours and done ceremonious homage to the flower, did they 
 resume their walk. Suddenly Ruskin halted, and, planting 
 his cane in the ground, exclaimed, "I don't believe, Alfred, 
 — Coventry, I don't believe that there are in all England 
 three men besides ourselves who, after finding a violet at 
 this time of year, would have had forbearance and fine feel- 
 ing enough to refrain from plucking it." 
 
 The reader may judge whether the imconscious display 
 of feeling by the inmate of an asylum was not finer than 
 
252 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 the self-conscious raptures of these three wise men and 
 sane. 
 
 Is it not then an atrocious anomaly that the treatment 
 often meted out to an insane person is the very treatment 
 which would deprive a sane person of his normal capacity ? w^ 
 "The victim must right his reason in an atmosphere of un- 
 reason. He must check his own delusions with the delu- 
 sions of others as mad as himself; and he must submit to a 
 variety of abuses as cruel as they are unnecessary. That 
 so many insane persons recover their reason under ad- 
 verse conditions is pretty good proof that insanity, though 
 prevalent, can never become preponderant. Miners who 
 penetrate the mountain fastnesses frequently become men- 
 tally unbalanced as a result of prolonged loneliness; and 
 their knowledge that they imperil their reason by living 
 in solitude, and their willingness to take the risk, are 
 qualifications for the work. But one and all they hasten 
 to return to civilization the moment they find themselves 
 beginning to be slightly affected with hallucinations. Delay 
 means death. Contact with sane people, if not tooj^g 
 delayed, means an almost immediate restoration to npr- 
 nmlity. This iT an illuminating fact. For, n contact 
 with the sane world can restore the threatened reason of 
 these miners, why cannot the minds of the inmates of 
 our asylums be at least strengthened by contact with 
 sound minds? Inasmuch as insane patients cannot be 
 set free, it is the duty of those in authority to treat them 
 with as great a degree of sane consideration as possible. 
 Instead of discouraging and abusing those curable patients 
 who exhibit flashes of sanity, why not, on the contrary, 
 single them out and encourage them in the direction of right 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 253 
 
 thinking ? In my own case I know that my degree of sanity 
 varied with the sanity of the treatment accorded me. I can 
 recall one wholesome interview which I had with my con- 
 servator and a friend. It eliminated more insane notions 
 from my mind than all the hours of talk I had previously 
 had with doctors and attendants. These two men — my con- 
 servator and my friend — in a spirit of tolerance and friend- 
 liness pointed out the impracticability of some of my wild 
 schemes, and their arguments were so convincing that I soon 
 accepted them and saw the absurdity of my own delusions. 
 Such arguments would of course be without effect at certain 
 stages, but, during a period which seems to point toward nor- 
 mality, friendly advice will without question hasten recovery. 
 Not a few of the inmates of our asylums, if they enjoyed 
 this individual and humane treatment, directed primarily 
 toward their own interests, might to-day be set free. And 
 many others not quite fit for absolute freedom might well be 
 set free on parole. I firmly believe that the public should be 
 protected against the insane, and the insane against them- 
 selves; but I see no reason why society, which so little heeds 
 its most unfortunate portion, is deserving of an excessive de- 
 gree of protection at the expense of recovered patients who 
 have already endured unnecessary suffering because of the 
 public's neglect. Society would not be likely to suffer any 
 more than it suffers already because of the continued free- 
 dom of hundreds of so-called "queer" people who would 
 have a poor chance of ever regaining their freedom were 
 they once legally deprived of it. I do not mean to say that 
 any considerable number of the present inmates of our asy- 
 lums and hospitals have been illegally committed, or that they 
 are wittingly held longer than seems necessary. But innocent 
 men have been condemned and hanged, and it stands to 
 reason that an undeterminable number of persons out of the 
 
,254 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 two hundred thousand mental incompetents in this country, 
 have been unjustly and, in some cases, maliciously branded as 
 insane when they did not deserve that infliction. So long 
 as the human equation enters into the problem, such errors 
 — or crimes — cannot possibly be completely guarded against. 
 That the unwarranted commitment of a person to a hos- 
 pital for the insane is a tragic miscarriage of justice, all will 
 admit. It therefore follows that the holding of a patient for 
 an unwarranted length of time after commitment is also an 
 injustice — likewise tragic. Yet many patients are deprived 
 of their liberty longer than necessary. This fact, however, 
 is seldom the fault of the doctors in charge of them, except, 
 perhaps, in private, run-for-gain institutions. As a rule 
 public hospital officials are more than willing to discharge 
 any patient fit for freedom — if for no other reason, to re- 
 lieve the overcrowded condition which obtains in a majority 
 of public institutions. It is the indifference — or even hos- 
 tility — of a patient's relatives which most often forces an 
 asylum management to hold him for weeks or months — 
 sometimes years — after he has demonstrated his fitness for, 
 at least, a large degree of freedom. Rather than force a 
 J patient out into a world which, at best, is cold, the doctors 
 ^~ will detain him until he is truly able to shift for himself. Rel- 
 atives, who are contributing to their own selfish comfort by 
 leaving the care of their unfortunates to the State, should 
 pause and try to view Hfe from behind asylum bars. 
 
 So much for those luckless patients whose relatives or 
 friends fail to do their whole duty by them. But what of 
 those inmates — and there are hundreds of them discharged 
 each year in this country — what of those who have no rel- 
 atives or friends at all, either to help or to hinder them when 
 their liberation is about to occur? In behalf of this class I 
 wish to call attention to a work, only recently inaugurated in 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 255 
 
 this country, though long since practiced abroad, which is 
 deserving of support and of general adoption. I refer to 
 the "After Care of the Insane." Thanks to the initiative 
 of Miss Louisa Lee Schuyler of New York, the State Char- 
 ities Aid Association of that city has brought to a working 
 perfection several so-called " Afto;_Care_Committees.'' These 
 are composed of earnest men and women who lend assist- 
 ance to needy and friendless patients about to re-enter the 
 sane world. Four hospitals in New York State are now 
 provided with the co-operation of such committees, and be- 
 fore a great while presumably every hospital for the insane 
 in that State will be likewise provided. No institution of 
 the character discussed should be without this provision, for 
 it is just such outside assistance that is required, if all pa- 
 tients deserving of discharge are to secure their freedom the 
 moment they are ready for it. 
 
 Realizing that my detailed account of abuses may disturb 
 relatives and friends of the inmates of our hospitals for the 
 insane, I feel it my duty to express again my belief that most 
 insane persons are better off in an institution than out of one. 
 Only a comparatively small, though undeterminable, pro- 
 portion of the two hundred thousand inmates of our hospitals, 
 asylums and sanatoriums are subjected to the worst of the 
 abuses laid bare and discussed in this book. This is at least 
 reassuring; for investigation and reform must soon remedy the 
 evils complained of; and country- wide investigation, if it does 
 nothing else, will protect insane patients against abuse as they 
 never before have been protected. Then, before the wave 
 of reform shall have lost its force, a National Society can take 
 hold and help, or, if necessary, force all hospital manage- 
 ments to maintain the highest attainable standard. Abuse 
 and injustice will then become as myths; — and, at last, 
 the insane will come into their own. 
 
PART III 
 
 XXXII 
 
 Such convictions as the foregoing — or some of them, and 
 the germs of the rest — I carried with me into the world. 
 
 For the first month of regained freedom I remained at 
 home. These weeks were interesting. Scarcely a day 
 passed that I did not meet several former friends and 
 acquaintances who greeted me as one risen from the dead. 
 And well they might, for my three-year trip among the 
 worlds — rather than around the world — was suggestive 
 of complete separation from the every-day life of the multi- 
 tude. One profound impression which I received at this 
 time was of the uniform delicacy of feeling exhibited by my 
 well-wishers. In no instance that I can recall was a direct 
 reference made to the nature of my recent illness, until I had 
 first made some remark which indicated that I was not 
 averse to discussing it. There was an evident effort on the 
 part of friends and acquaintances to avoid a subject which 
 they naturally supposed I wished to forget. Knowing that 
 their studied avoidance of a delicate subject was inspired by 
 a thoughtful consideration, rather than a lack of interest, I 
 invariably forced the conversation along a line calculated to 
 satisfy a suppressed but perfectly proper curiosity which I 
 seldom failed to detect. My decision to stand on my past 
 and look the future in the face has, I believe, contributed 
 much to my own happiness, and, more than anything else, 
 enabled my friends to view my past as I myself do. By 
 frankly referring to my experiences I put my friends and 
 
 256 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 257 
 
 acquaintances at ease, and at a stroke rid them of that 
 constraint which one must feel in the presence of a person 
 constantly in danger of being hurt by a chance reference to 
 an unhappy experience. 
 
 I have said much about the obligation of the sane in refer- 
 ence to easing the burdens of those committed to our asylums. 
 I might say almost as much about the attitude of the public 
 toward those who survive such a period of exile, restored, 
 but branded with a suspicion which only time can efface. 
 Though an ex-inmate of an asylum receives personal con- 
 sideration, he finds it unduly difficult to obtain employment. 
 No fair-minded man can find fault with this condition of 
 affairs, for an inbred horror of insanity breeds distrust of one 
 who has been insane. Nevertheless, this attitude is a mis- 
 taken one. Perhaps one reason for this lack of confidence 
 in an ex-inmate is to be found in the lack of confidence which 
 such a person often feels in himself. Confidence begets 
 confidence, and those men and women who survive mental 
 illness should attack their problem as though their absence 
 had been occasioned by any one of the many circumstances 
 which may interrupt the career of a person whose mind has 
 never been other than sound. I can testify to the efficacy 
 of this course, for it is the one I pursued. And I think that 
 I have thus far met with as great a degree of success as I 
 might reasonably have expected to attain had my career 
 never been all but fatally interrupted. 
 
 Discharged from the asylum in September, 1903, late in 
 October of that same year I went to New York. Primarily 
 my purpose was to study art. I even went so far as to 
 gather information regarding the several schools; and, had 
 not my artistic ambition taken wing, I might have worked 
 for recognition in a field where so many strive in vain. But 
 my business instinct, revivified by the commercially sur- 
 18 
 
258 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 charged atmosphere of New York, soon gained sway, and, 
 within three months I had secured a position with the same 
 firm for which I had worked when I first went to New York 
 — six years earlier. It was by the merest chance that 
 I made this most fortunate connection, which has continued 
 ever since. By no stretch of my rather elastic imagination 
 can I even now picture a situation that would, at one and 
 the same time, have so perfectly afforded a means of liveli- 
 hood, leisure in which to indulge my longing to write, and 
 an opportunity to further my humanitarian projects. 
 
 Though persons discharged from our asylums are usually 
 able to secure, without much difficulty, work as unskilled 
 laborers, or positions where the responsibility is slight, it is 
 often next to impossible for them to secure positions of trust. 
 That I did secure such a position naturally arouses within me 
 a lively sense of gratitude toward the members of that firm 
 which helped me to lift myself over as rough a spot on life's 
 road as one may expect to fall upon. And what pleases me 
 to-day, and pleased me then, is that the two men who com- 
 prise the firm in question did not employ me solely because 
 of a desire to help me when I so much needed help. Knowing 
 my past, they yet engaged my services because they thought 
 they saw in me certain qualifications for the proposed work. 
 During the negotiations which led to the engagement I was 
 in no suppliant mood. If anything, I was quite the reverse ; 
 and, as I have since learned, I imposed terms with an assur- 
 ance so sublime that any less degree of audacity would have 
 put an end to the negotiations then and there. But the man 
 with whom I was dealing was not only broad-minded, he 
 was sagacious. He recognized immediately such an ability 
 to take care of myself as argued an ability to protect the in- 
 terests of the firm in the particular line of work he had in 
 mind. But this alone would not have induced the average 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 259 
 
 business man to employ me under the circumstances. It 
 was the common-sense view of insanity on the part of my em- 
 ployer which determined the issue. This view which is, 
 indeed, exceptional to-day, will one day (within a few genera- 
 tions, I beheve) be too commonplace to deserve special men- 
 tion. As this man tersely expressed it: "When an employee 
 is ill, he's ill, and it makes no difference to me whether he 
 goes to a general hospital or an asylimi. Should you ever 
 find yourself in need of treatment or rest I want you to feel 
 that you can take it when and where you please, and work for 
 us when you are able." When a majority of men attain to 
 this advanced view, insanity will take its proper place with 
 other ills which flesh is heir to. Of course, I do not deny 
 that one employing an ex-inmate of an asylum must care- 
 fully judge his capacity and assign him to work for which 
 he is fitted. 
 
 Strangely enough, that "missionary spirit" (if you will) 
 which now impels me to try to spread the principles of Non- 
 Restraint has been nurtured and strengthened by the daily 
 discharge of those business obligations which (if I may be 
 pardoned) I shall now briefly describe. What my employers 
 asked me to do was to introduce over a large territory a cer- 
 tain business principle, which, if universally adopted, would 
 revolutionize a great industry. For three years I have gone 
 from State to State — from Maine to New Mexico — pre- 
 senting and explaining a special form of contract under 
 which, for an agreed amoimt and without "extras," certain 
 types of buildings may be erected, from plans to completion, 
 and delivered to the purchaser, ready for occupancy. The 
 purchaser, or owner, deals directly with but one firm, which 
 acts as owner pro tern, and guarantees a satisfactory result. 
 Those who have erected buildings under the usual method, 
 namely, that of placing the entire operation in the hands of 
 
26o A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 an architect, who in turn, in the name of the owner, lets 
 out the work to several contractors for competitive bidding, 
 will at once grasp the significance of this revolutionizing 
 method. 
 
 The presentation of so unique a contract requires a degree 
 of persuasiveness and audacity. Though I have not met 
 with an unusual degree of success, I have secured a sufficient 
 nimiber of contracts to warrant my being kept on the Hst 
 of employees of the firm which had the courage to send me 
 abroad in the land as its representative. My business mis- 
 sionary work has been done among bankers in three hundred 
 cities and towns. Contact with two or three thousand such 
 men in the North, East, South, and Southwest has, in every 
 way, been beneficial to me. Not only have I talked with 
 them. I have talked "at" them, endeavoring to convert them 
 from an old and imsatisfactory method to a new and prac- 
 tical one. Many a time have I smiled inwardly when I 
 found myself thus addressing a Board of Directors, or 
 Building Committee, about to let a contract for a new 
 building or the remodeling of an old banking room. 
 For, at such times my memory invariably presents two 
 pictures of similar (but how different !) scenes — one, that 
 of my appearance before a clinic of Yale medical stu- 
 dents, held at the State Hospital while I was possessed of 
 a remarkably complete collection of delusions of grandeur 
 which I willingly, yes, eagerly, laid on the Altar of Science. 
 The other, that in which I appeared before the Medical Staff 
 at the same hospital, prior to my discharge. These 
 two occasions marked my first attempts at speech-making. 
 My next talk of sufficient length to be called a speech was 
 delivered before a Board of Directors. After listening to me 
 they signed a contract for a sixty-thousand-dollar building. 
 Aside from the preliminary nerve-racking hiatus which invari- 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 261 
 
 ably precedes a speech, I found it easy to monopolize the 
 attention of my listeners. It would seem, therefore, that the 
 training I received in an institution not commonly classed as 
 one of learning proved to be of decided utility. 
 
 Dealing almost exclusively with bankers — those hard- 
 worked men of seemingly easy hours — I have enjoyed al- 
 most as much leisure for reading and trying to learn how to 
 write as I should have enjoyed had I had an assured income 
 that would have enabled me to devote my entire time to 
 these pursuits. And so congenial has my work proved, and 
 so many places of interest have I visited, that I might rather 
 be classed as a "commercial tourist" than as a commercial 
 traveler. To view almost all of the natural wonders and 
 places of historic interest east of the Mississippi — and many 
 west of it; to meet and know representative men and 
 women; to enjoy an almost uninterrupted leisure, and, at 
 the same time, earn a livelihood — these advantages bear me 
 out in the feeling that in securing the position I did, at the 
 time I did, I enjoyed one of those rare compensations which 
 Fate sometimes bestows upon those who survive unusual 
 adversity. 
 
XXXIII 
 
 When I regained my liberty (September, 1903) I real- 
 ized that I could not successfully advocate reforms in hos- 
 pital management until I had first proved to relatives and 
 friends my ability to earn a living. And I knew that, after 
 securing a position in the business world, I must first satisfy 
 my employers before I could hope to persuade others to join 
 me in prosecuting the reforms I had at heart. Consequently 
 during the first year of my renewed business activity (the 
 year 1904) I held my humanitarian project in abeyance and 
 gave all my executive energy to my business duties. During 
 the first half of that year I gave but little time to reading and 
 writing, and none at all to drawing. In a tentative way, 
 however, I did occasionally discuss my project with intimate 
 friends; but I spoke of its consummation as a thing of the 
 uncertain future. At that time, though confident of accom- 
 plishing my set purpose, I believed I should be fortunate if 
 my projected book were published before my fortieth year. 
 That I am able to publish it eight years earlier is due to one 
 of those unlooked for combination of circumstances which 
 sometimes causes a hurried change of plans. 
 
 The events of November and December 1904, and Jan- 
 uary, 1905, must be mentioned, and then I shall have told 
 the reader about most of my personal fortunes. Late in the 
 fall of 1904, a slight illness detained me for two weeks, 
 in a city several hundred miles from home. The illness itself 
 amounted to little, and, so far as I know, had no direct bear- 
 ing on later results, except that in giving me an enforced vaca- 
 
 262 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 263 
 
 tion it aflForded me an opportunity to read several of the 
 world's great books — books which people are prone to 
 reserve until a period of leisure reminds them of their for- 
 mer neglect. 
 
 One of these was "Les Miserables." It made so deep an 
 impression on me that I am inclined to believe it started a 
 train of thought which gradually grew into a purpose so all- 
 absorbing that I might have been overwhelmed by it, had 
 not my over-active imagination been brought to bay by 
 another's conmion sense. Hugo's plea for suffering Human- 
 ity — for the world's miserable — struck a responsive chord 
 within me. Not only did it revive my latent desire to help 
 the afflicted; it did more. It aroused a consuming desire 
 to emulate Hugo himself, by writing a book which should 
 arouse sympathy for and interest in that class of unfortu- 
 nates in whose behalf I felt it my peculiar right and duty to 
 speak. I question whether any one ever read "Les Mis^- 
 erables" with intenser interest or feeling. I read the entire 
 work within a few days. By day I read the story imtil my 
 head ached; by night I dreamed of it. Then and there I 
 resolved that I should lose no time in the beginning of my 
 own work. 
 
 To resolve to write a book is one thing; to write it — 
 fortunately for the public — is quite another. Though I 
 wrote letters with ease, I soon discovered that I knew 
 nothing of the vigils or methods of writing a book. Even 
 then I did not attempt to predict just when I should begin to 
 commit my story to paper. But, a month later, a member 
 of the firm made a remark which acted as a sudden spur. 
 One day, while discussing the business situation with me, he 
 informed me that my work had convinced him that he had 
 made no mistake in engaging me when he did. Naturally I 
 was pleased. I had vindicated sooner than I had hoped his 
 
264 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 judgment in selecting me for a unique work. Aside from 
 appreciating and remembering his compliment, at the time 
 I paid no more attention to it. Not until two weeks later 
 did the force of his remark exert any peculiar influence on 
 my plans. During those weeks it apparently penetrated 
 to some subconscious part of me — a part which, on prior 
 occasions, had assumed such authority as to dominate my 
 whole being. But, in this instance, the part that became 
 dominant did not exert an imruly or even unwelcome influ- 
 ence. Full of interest in my business affairs one week, the 
 next I not only had no interest in them, but I had begun even 
 to dislike them. From a matter-of-fact man of business I 
 was transformed into a man whose one thought was the 
 amelioration of suffering among the afflicted insane. Travel- 
 ing on this high plane of ideal humanitarianism I could get 
 none but a distorted and dissatisfying view of the life I must 
 lead if I should continue to devote my time to the compara- 
 tively deadening routine of commercial affairs. Thus it 
 was inevitable that I should focus my attention on my human- 
 itarian project. During the last week of December I sought 
 ammunition by making a visit to the two institutions where 
 I had once been confined as an incompetent. I went there 
 to discuss certain phases of the subject of reform with the 
 doctors in authority. I was politely received and listened 
 to with a degree of deference which was, indeed, satisfying. 
 Though I realized that I was rather intense on the subject 
 of reform I did not have that clear insight into my state of 
 mind which the doctors had. Indeed, I believe that only 
 those expert in the detection of symptoms of a slightly 
 disturbed mental condition could possibly have observed 
 anything abnormal about me at that time. Only when I dis- 
 cussed my fond project of reform did I betray an abnormal 
 stress of feeling. I could talk as convincingly about business 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 265 
 
 as I had at any time in my life; for, even at the height of 
 this "wave of enthusiasm," I dealt at length with a certain 
 banker who finally placed with my employers a large con- 
 tract. 
 After conferring with the doctors, or rather — as it proved 
 
 — exhibiting myself to them, I returned to New Haven and 
 discussed my project with the president of Yale University. 
 He listened patiently — he could scarcely do otherwise — 
 and did me the great favor of interposing his judgment at a 
 time when I might have made a false move. I told him that 
 I intended to visit Washington at once, and enlist the aid of 
 the President; also that of the Secretary of State, Hon. John 
 Hay, who was then alive. Dr. Hadley tactfully dissuaded me. 
 He advised me not to approach these two gentlemen until I 
 had more thoroughly crystallized my ideas and committed 
 them to paper. His wise suggestion I had the wisdom to 
 adopt. 
 
 The next day I went to New York, and on January ist, 1905, 
 I began to write. Within two days I had written about fif- 
 teen thousand words — for the most part on the subject of 
 reforms and how to effect them. By way of mental diver- 
 sion I wrote personal letters to intimate friends. One of 
 these produced a result unlooked for. It was so well writ- 
 ten that its recipient jumped at the conclusion that I had 
 again lost my poise. There were about it compromising ear- 
 marks which he recognized, I intimated that I was about to 
 approach a certain man of wealth and influence in New York, 
 with a view to securing some action that would lead to reform. 
 That was enough. My friend showed the letter to my brother 
 
 — the one who had acted as my conservator. Upon reading it 
 he knew at once that I was in an excited mental condition. 
 But he could not very well judge the degree of the excite- 
 ment; for when I had last talked with him — a week earlier 
 
266 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 — I had not discussed my large plans. Business affairs 
 and my hope for business advancement had then alone 
 interested me. 
 
 I talked with President Hadley on Friday; Saturday I 
 went to New York; Sunday and Monday I spent at the 
 Yale Club, writing; Tuesday, this tell-tale letter fell under 
 the prescient eye of my brother. That day, Tuesday, he at 
 once got in touch with me by telephone. We briefly dis- 
 cussed the situation. He did not intimate that he believed 
 me to be in elation. He simply urged me not to attempt to 
 interest any one in my project until I had first returned to 
 New Haven and discussed it with him. Now I had already 
 gone so far as to invite the members of the firm to dine with 
 me that very night at the Yale Club, for the purpose of in- 
 forming them of my plans. This I did, beHeving it to be only 
 fair that they should know what I intended to do, so that 
 they might dispense with my services should they feel that 
 my plans would in any way impair my usefulness as an 
 employee. Of this dinner engagement, therefore, I told my 
 brother. But, so insistently did he urge me to defer any 
 such conference as I proposed until I had talked with him 
 that, although it was too late to break the dinner engage- 
 ment, I agreed to avoid, if possible, all reference to my 
 project. With that qualified but well-meant promise, and 
 the promise to return home the next day, our telephone 
 conference ended. 
 
 That night my guests honored me as agreed. For an 
 hour or two we discussed business conditions and affairs in 
 general. Then, one of them referred pointedly to my im- 
 plied promise to unburden myself on a certain subject, the 
 nature of which he did not, at the time, know. I immediately 
 decided that it would be best to "take the bull by the horns," 
 submit my plans, and, if necessary, sever my connection 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 267 
 
 with the firm, should its members force me to choose (as I 
 put it) between themselves and Humanity. I then pro- 
 ceeded to unfold my scheme; and, though I may have ex- 
 hibited a decided intensity of feeling during my discourse, 
 at no time, I believe, did I overstep the bounds of what 
 appeared to be sane enthusiasm. My employers agreed that 
 my purpose was commendable, — that, no doubt I could and 
 would eventually be able to do much for those I had left be- 
 hind in a durance I so well knew to be vile. Their one warn- 
 ing was that I seemed in too great a hurry. They called 
 my attention to the fact that I had not been long enough 
 re-established in business to approach successfully and per- 
 suade men of wealth and influence to take hold of my pro- 
 ject. And one of my guests very aptly observed that I could 
 not afford to be a philanthropist, which objection I met by 
 saying that all I intended to do was to supply ideas for those 
 able to apply them. The conference ended satisfactorily. 
 My employers disclaimed any personal objection to my pro- 
 ceeding with my project if I would, and yet remaining in 
 their employ. They simply urged me to "go slow." "Wait 
 until you're forty," said one. I then thought that I might 
 do so. And perhaps I should have waited so long had not 
 the next two days put me on the right road to an earlier 
 inauguration of my cherished plans. 
 
 The next day, January 4th, true to my word, I went home. 
 That night I had a long talk with my brother. I did not 
 suspect that a man like myself, capable of dealing with 
 bankers and talking for several consecutive hours with his 
 employers without arousing their suspicion as to his mental 
 integrity, was to be suspected by his own relatives. Nor, 
 indeed, with the exception of my brother who had read my 
 suspiciously excellent letter, were any of my relatives dis- 
 turbed, — and he did nothing to disabuse my assurance. 
 
268 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 After our night conference he left for his own home, 
 casually mentioning that he would talk with me again the 
 next morning. That pleased me, for I was in a talkative 
 mood and craved an interested listener. 
 
 When my brother returned the next morning I willingly 
 accepted his invitation to go with him to his office where 
 we could talk without fear of interruption. Arrived there, 
 I calmly sat down and prepared to prove my whole case. I 
 had scarcely ''opened fire" when in walked a stranger — a 
 strapping fellow, to whom my brother immediately intro- 
 duced me. I instinctively felt that it was by no mere 
 chance that this third party had so suddenly appeared. 
 My eye at once lighted on the dark blue trousers worn by 
 the otherwise conventionally dressed stranger. That was 
 enough. The situation became so clear that the explana- 
 tions which followed were superfluous. In a word, I was 
 under arrest, or in imminent danger of being arrested. To 
 say that I was not in the least disconcerted would scarcely 
 be true, for I had not divined my brother's clever purpose 
 in luring me to his office. But I can say, with truth, that I 
 was the coolest person in the room. I knew what I should 
 do next, but my brother and the officer of the law could only 
 guess. The fact is I did nothing. I calmly remained seated, 
 awaiting the verdict which I well knew my brother, with 
 characteristic decision, had prepared. With considerable 
 effort — for the situation, he has since told me, was the most 
 trying one of his life — he informed me that on the preceding 
 day he had talked with the doctors to whom I had so thought- 
 fully exhibited myself a week earlier. All agreed that 
 I was in a state of elation which might or might not 
 become more pronounced. They had advised that I be 
 persuaded to submit voluntarily to restraint and treatment, 
 or that I be forcibly committed. On this advice my brother 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 269 
 
 had proceeded to act. And it was well so; for, though I 
 appreciated the fact that I was by no means in a normal state 
 of mind, I had not a clear enough insight into my condition 
 to realize that treatment under a certain amount of restraint 
 was what I needed — and that continued freedom might 
 further inflame an imagination already overwrought. 
 
 A few simple statements by my brother convinced me that 
 it was for my own good and the peace of mind of my rela- 
 tives that I should temporarily surrender my freedom. This 
 I agreed to do. Perhaps the presence of two hundred pounds 
 of brawn and muscle, representing the law, lent persuasive- 
 ness to my brother's words. In fact, I did assent the more 
 readily because I admired the thorough, sane, fair, almost 
 artistic manner in which my brother had brought me to bay. 
 I am inclined to believe that, had I suspected that a re- com- 
 mitment was imminent, I should have fled to a neighboring 
 State during the preceding night. The reader should not, 
 however, imagine that I was treated with any unnecessary 
 severity. The right thing in the right way was done at the 
 right time. Though up to this moment I had been the sub- 
 ject of strategy, not for one moment thereafter, in any par- 
 ticular, was I deceived. I was frankly told that several 
 doctors had pronounced me elated, and that for my own 
 good I must submit to treatment. I was allowed to choose 
 between a Probate Court commitment which would have 
 "admitted me" (humorous phrase) to the State Hos- 
 pital, or a "voluntary commitment" (somewhat humor- 
 ous phrase) which would enable me to enter the large 
 private hospital where I had previously passed from de- 
 pression to elation, and had later suffered tortures. I 
 naturally chose the more desirable of the two disguised 
 blessings, and agreed to start at once for the private hospital. 
 It was not that I feared again to enter the State Hospital, — 
 
270 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 I wished to avoid the publicity which necessarily would have 
 attended my commitment to that institution. Then, too, 
 there were certain privileges which I knew I could not 
 enjoy at the State Hospital, where doctors fear or refuse to 
 treat each case on its own merits. Having re-established 
 myself in society and business I did not wish to forfeit that 
 advantage; and as the doctors believed that my period of 
 elation would be short, it would have been sheer folly to 
 advertise the fact that my mental integrity had again fallen 
 under suspicion. 
 
 But before starting for the asylum I imposed certain con- 
 ditions. One was that the man with authoritative trousers 
 should walk behind us at such a distance that no friend or 
 acquaintance who might see us would divine that I was 
 imder guard; the other was that the doctors at the institu- 
 tion should agree to grant my every request, no matter how 
 trivial, so long as it could in no way work to my own injury. 
 My privileges were to include that of reading and writing 
 to my heart's content, and the procuring of such books and 
 supplies as my fancy might dictate. All this was agreed to. 
 In return I agreed to submit to the surveillance of an attend- 
 ant when I went about the city. This I knew would con- 
 tribute to the peace of mind of my relatives, who naturally 
 could not rid themselves of the fear that one so nearly sane 
 as myself might take it into his head to leave the State and 
 resist further attempts at incarceration. As I felt that I 
 could easily elude my keeper, should I care to escape, his 
 presence also contributed to my peace of mind, for I argued 
 that the ability to outwit my guard would atone for the 
 offense itself. 
 
 I then started for the hospital; and I went with a willing- 
 ness surprising even to myself. A cheerful philosophy en- 
 abled me to turn an apparently disagreeable situation into 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 271 
 
 one that was positively pleasing to me. I convinced myself 
 that I could extract more real enjoyment from life during 
 the ensuing weeks within the walls of a "retreat" than I 
 could in the world outside. My one desire was to write, 
 write, write. My fingers itched for a pen. My desire to 
 write was, I imagine, as irresistible as the desire of a drunk- 
 ard for his dram. And the act of writing resulted in an 
 intoxicating pleasure composed of a mingling of emotions 
 that defies analysis. 
 
 That I should so calmly, almost eagerly, enter where 
 devils might fear to tread, may surprise the reader who 
 already has been informed of the cruel treatment I had for- 
 merly received there. I feared nothing for I knew all. Hav- 
 ing seen the worst, I knew how to avoid the pitfalls into 
 which, during my first confinement, I had fallen or delib- 
 erately walked. I was confident that I should suffer no 
 abuse or injustice so long as the doctors in charge should live 
 up to their agreement and treat me as a gentleman. This 
 they did, and my quick recovery and subsequent discharge 
 may be attributed mainly to this cause. The assistant 
 physicians who had come in contact with me during my first 
 experience in this hospital were no longer in charge. They 
 had resigned some months earher — shortly after the death 
 of the former superintendent. Thus it was that I started 
 with a clean record, free from those prejudices which so 
 often bias the judgment of a doctor who has treated a 
 patient at his worst. 
 
XXXIV 
 
 On more than one occasion my chameleon-like tempera- 
 ment has enabled me to adjust myself to new conditions, 
 but never has it served me better than it did at the time 
 of which I write. A free man on New Year's Day, enjoying 
 the pleasures of a congenial club-life, four days later I found 
 myself again under the lock and key of an asylum for the 
 insane. Never had I enjoyed life in New York more than 
 during those first days of that new year. To suffer so rude 
 a change was, indeed, enough to inspire a feeling of discon- 
 tent, if not despair; yet, aside from the momentary initial 
 shock, my contentment was in no degree diminished. I 
 can say with truth that I was as complacent the very moment 
 I re-crossed the threshold of that "retreat" as I had been 
 when crossing and recrossing at will the threshold of my club. 
 
 Of everything I thought and did during the interesting 
 weeks which followed I have a complete record. The mo- 
 ment I accepted the inevitable, I determined to spend my 
 time to good advantage. Knowing from experience that I 
 must observe my own case, if I was to have any record of 
 it, I provided myself in advance with note-books. In these, 
 from day to day, I recorded, I might almost say, my 
 every action, and every thought and fancy. The sane part 
 of me, which fortunately was dominant, subjected its tem- 
 porarily insane and unruly part to a sort of scientific scru- 
 tiny and surveillance. From morning till night I dogged 
 the steps of my restless body and my more restless imagina- 
 tion. I observed the physical and mental symptoms which 
 
 272 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 273 
 
 I knew were characteristic of elation. An exquisite light- 
 heartedness, a slight ringing in the ears, the varying dilation 
 of the pupils of the eyes, my pulse, my weight, my appetite 
 — all these I observed and recorded with a care that would 
 have put to blush a majority of the doctors now working 
 among the insane. 
 
 But this record of symptoms, though minute, is vague 
 compared to my reckless analysis of my emotions. With a 
 lack of reserve characteristic of my sublime mood, I described 
 the joy of living, which, for the most part, then consisted of 
 the joy of writing. And, even now, as I re-read my record, 
 I feel that I cannot overstate the pleasure I found in sur- 
 rendering myself completely to that controlling impulse. 
 The excellence of my composition seemed to me beyond crit- 
 icism. And as, to one in a state of elation, things are pretty 
 much as they seem, I was able to experience the subtle de- 
 lights which, I fancy, thrill the soul of a master. During 
 this month of elation I wrote words enough to fill a book 
 nearly as large as this one. Having found that each filling 
 of my fountain pen was sufficient for the writing of about 
 twenty-eight hundred words, I kept a record of the number 
 of times I filled it. This minute calculation I carried to an 
 extreme. If I wrote for fifty-nine minutes, and then read for 
 seventeen, that fact I recorded. Thus, in my diary and out 
 of it, I wrote and wrote, until the tips of my thumb and 
 forefinger grew numb. As this numbness increased, and 
 general weariness of the hand set in, there came a gradual 
 flagging of my creative impulse, until a very sane unproductiv- 
 ity supervened. Thus I had and have now a safe mental 
 barometer and can judge my degree of normality — for no 
 one is absolutely normal — by the intensity of my desire to 
 write. This is fortunate-; for surely he who can detect 
 an abnormal impulse in so innocent a manner, and correct 
 19 
 
274 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 it when discovered, simply by writing it to sleep, is not likely 
 to experience more trouble in this world than he whose in- 
 evitable ills present themselves in more conventional and 
 usually painful ways. 
 
 The reader may well wonder in what my so-called insan- 
 ity at this time consisted. Had I any of those impracticable 
 delusions which had characterized my former period of 
 elation? No, not one — unless an unreasonable haste to 
 achieve my ambitions may be counted a delusion. My at- 
 tention simply focused itself on my project. All other 
 considerations seemed of little moment. My interest in 
 business waned to the vanishing point. Yet, one thing 
 should be noted : I did deliberately devote many hours to the 
 consideration of business affairs. ReaHzing that one way 
 to overcome an absorbing impulse is to divide the attention, 
 I wrote a brief of the arguments I had so often presented to 
 bankers. In this way I was able to convince the doctors 
 that my intense interest in literature and reform would soon 
 spend itself. » 
 
 A consuming desire to effect reforms had been the deter- 
 mining factor when I calmly weighed the situation with a 
 view to making the best possible use of my impulse to write. 
 The events of the immediate past had convinced me that I 
 could not hope to interest men of wealth and influence in 
 my humanitarian project until I had some definite plan to 
 submit for their leisurely consideration. Further, I had 
 discovered that an attempt to approach these men directly 
 disturbed my relatives and friends who had not yet learned 
 to dissociate present intentions from past performances. I 
 had, therefore, determined to drill myself in the art of com- 
 position to the end that I might write a story of my life 
 which would merit publication. I felt that such a book, 
 once written, would do its own work, regardless of my subse- 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 275 
 
 quent fortunes. Other books had spoken even from the 
 grave; why should not my book so speak — if necessary? 
 
 With this thought in mind I began not only to read and 
 write, but to test my impulse in order that I might discover 
 if it were a genuine part of my being, an abnormal impulse, 
 or a mere whim. I reasoned that to compare my own feel- 
 ings toward and for literature, and my emotions experi- 
 enced in the heat of composition, with the recorded feelings 
 of successful men of letters, would give me a clue to the truth 
 on this question. At this time I read several books of a 
 nature that would have served as a basis for my deductions, 
 but only one of them did I have time to analyze and note in 
 my diary. That one was "Wit and Wisdom of the Earl of 
 Beaconsfield." The following passages from the pen of 
 Disraeli I transcribed in my diary with occasional comments. 
 
 "Remember who you are, and also that it is your duty to 
 excel. Providence has given you a great lot. Think ever 
 that you are born to perform great duties." This I inter- 
 preted in much the same spirit that I had interpreted the 
 forty-fifth Psalm on a prior occasion. 
 
 "It was that noble ambition, the highest and best, that 
 must be born in the heart, and organized in the brain, which 
 will not let a man be content unless his intellectual power is 
 recognized by his race, and desires that it should contribute 
 to their welfare." 
 
 "Authors — the creators of opinion." 
 
 "What appear to be calamities are often the sources of 
 fortune." 
 
 " Change is inevitable in a progressive country. Change 
 is constant." ("Then why," was my recorded comment, 
 " cannot the changes I propose to bring about, be brought 
 about ? " 
 
 " The author is, as we must ever remember, of peculiar 
 
276 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 organization. He is a being born with a predisposition 
 which with him is irresistible, the bent of which he cannot 
 in any way avoid, whether it directs him to the abstruse 
 researches of erudition or induces him to mount into the 
 fervid and turbulent atmosphere of imagination," "This," 
 I wrote (and I wrote it the day after arriving at the hospital) 
 "is a fair diagnosis of my case as it stands to-day, assuming, 
 of course, that an author is one who loves to write, and can 
 write with ease, even though what he says may have no lit- 
 erary value. My past proves that my organization is a pecul- 
 iar one. I have for years (two and a half) had a desire to 
 achieve success along literary lines. I believe that, feeling 
 as I do to-day, nothing can prevent my writing. If I had 
 to make a choice at once between a sure success in the busi- 
 ness career ahead of me, and doubtful success in the field of 
 literature I would willingly, yes confidently, choose the latter. 
 I have read many a time about successful writers who learned 
 how to write, and by dint of hard work ground out their 
 ideas. If these men could succeed, why should not a man 
 who is in danger of being ground up by an excess of ideas and 
 imagination succeed, when he seems able to put those ideas 
 into fairly intelligible English ? He should and will succeed." 
 Therefore, without delay, I began the course of experi- 
 ment and practice which culminated within a few months 
 in the first draft of my story. Wise enough to realize 
 the advantages of a situation free from the annoying 
 interruptions of the work-a-day world, I enjoyed a degree 
 of liberty seldom enjoyed by those in possession of complete 
 legal liberty and its attendant obligations. When I wished 
 to read, write, talk, walk, sleep, or eat, I did the thing I 
 wished. I went to the theater when the spirit moved me to 
 do so, accompanied, of course, by an attendant, who, on 
 such occasions, played the role of chum. 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 277 
 
 Friends called to see me, and at their own, or my 
 suggestion, I was invited for dinner outside the walls of my 
 "cloister." At one of these dinners an incident occurred 
 which throws a clear light on my condition at the time. The 
 friend, whose willing prisoner I was, had invited a common 
 friend to join the party. The latter had not heard of my 
 re-commitment. At my suggestion, he who shared my 
 secret had agreed not to refer to my situation unless I first 
 broached the subject. There was nothing strange in the 
 fact that we three should meet. Just such impromptu cel- 
 ebrations had before occurred among us. We dined, and, 
 as friends will, indulged in that exchange of thoughts which 
 bespeaks intimacy. After hours of delectable communion I 
 so shaped the conversation that a consideration of my 
 past experiences and the possibility of their recurrence fol- 
 lowed. The uninformed friend derided the idea. 
 
 "Then, if I were to tell you," said I, "that I am at this 
 moment supposedly insane — at least not normal — and 
 that when I leave you to-night I shall go direct to the very 
 hospital where I was formerly confined, there to remain until 
 the doctors pronounce me fit for freedom, what should you 
 say?" 
 
 "I should say that you are a choice sort of liar," he re- 
 torted. 
 
 This genial insult I swallowed with gratification. It was, 
 in truth, a timely and encouraging compliment, the force of 
 which its giver failed to appreciate until my host had corrob- 
 orated my statements. 
 
 If I could so favorably impress an intimate friend at a 
 time when I was elated, it is not surprising that I should 
 subsequently hold an interview with a comparative stranger 
 — the cashier of a local bank — without betraying my con- 
 dition. As business interviews go, this was in a class by 
 
278 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 itself. While my attendant stood guard at the door, 1, a 
 registered inmate of an asylum, entered the banking room 
 and talked with a level-headed banker. And that inter- 
 view was not without effect in subsequent negotiations 
 which led to the closing of a contract amounting to one 
 hundred and fifty thousand dollars. 
 
 The very day I re-entered the hospital I stopped on the 
 way at a local hotel and prociu"ed some of the hostelry's 
 stationery. By using this in the writing of personal and 
 business letters I managed to conceal my condition and my 
 whereabouts from all except near relatives, and a few inti- 
 mate friends who shared the secret. I quite enjoyed lead- 
 ing this legitimate double-life. The situation appealed (not 
 in vain) to my sense of humor. Many a sly laugh did I in- 
 dulge in when I closed a letter with such ambiguous phrases 
 as the following: "Matters of importance necessitate my re- 
 maining where I am for an indefinite period." . . . "A 
 situation has recently arisen which will delay my intended 
 trip South. As soon as I have closed a certain contract 
 [having in mind my contract to re-establish my sanity] I shall 
 again take to the road." ... To this day few friends or 
 acquaintances know that I was in semi-exile during the 
 month of January, 1905. My desire to suppress the fact 
 was not due, as already intimated, to any sensitiveness regard- 
 ing the subject of insanity. What afterwards justified my 
 course was that on regaining my freedom I was able, with- 
 out embarrassment, again to take up my work. Within a 
 month of my voluntary commitment, that is, in February, 
 I started on business for the Central West and South where I 
 remained until the following July. During those months 
 I felt perfectly well, and have remained in excellent health 
 ever since. 
 
 This second and last hospital experience was most for- 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 279 
 
 tunate. It came at a time and in a manner to furnish me 
 with strong arguments wherewith to support my con- 
 tention that madmen are too often man-made, and that 
 he who is potentially a madman may keep a saving grip on 
 his own reason if he be fortunate enough to receive that 
 kindly and intelligent treatment to which one on the brink 
 of chaos is of right entitled. Though during this second 
 period of elation I was never in a mood so reckless as that 
 which obtained immediately after my recovery from depres- 
 sion in August, 1902, I was at least so excitable that, had 
 those in authority attempted to impose upon me, I should 
 have thrown discretion to the winds. To them, indeed, I 
 frankly reiterated a terse dictum which I had coined during 
 my first period of elation. " Just press the button of Injus- 
 tice," said I, "and I'll do the rest!" This I meant, for 
 fear of punishment does not restrain a man in the dare- 
 devil grip of elation. 
 
 What fostered my self-control was a sense of gratitude. 
 The doctors and attendants treated me as a gentleman. 
 Therefore it was not difficult to prove myself one. But, had 
 they for one moment treated me as a criminal, or a dumb 
 brute, I should have resented their action as vigorously as I 
 had the action of their predecessors upon prior occasions. 
 Instead of regaining my normal poise and securing a com- 
 plete freedom within a month, in all probability I should 
 have gone from bad to worse, lashing myself into a justifiable 
 fury that undoubtedly would have necessitated my being 
 confined for perhaps an indefinite period. Fortunately, 
 my case was treated on its merits. I was given individual 
 treatment. My every whim was at least considered with 
 a politeness which enabled me to accept a denial with 
 a highly sane equanimity. Aside from mild tonics I 
 took no other medicine than that most beneficial sort which 
 
28o A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 inheres in kindness. The feeling that, though a prisoner, I 
 could still command obligations from others, led me to rec- 
 ognize my own reciprocal obligations, and was a constant 
 source of delight. The doctors, by proving their title to that 
 confidence which I tentatively gave them upon re-entering 
 the institution, had no difficulty in convincing me that a 
 temporary curtailment of privileges was for my own good. 
 They all evinced a consistent desire to trust me. In return 
 I trusted them. Nothing so well illustrates my proper 
 treatment, day in and day out, as the fact that I cannot now 
 recall a single denial of a request. Though not a few of my 
 requests were denied, my confidence, at the time, that the 
 denials were fair, has obscured the remembrance of them. 
 My case was a mild one; but I should have fought my way 
 again to freedom had I been met with that curt unreasonable- 
 ness which characterized the attitude of the doctor who had 
 charge of me during my first period of confinement in 
 this hospital. Doctors and attendants who think it a thank- 
 less task to attempt to gain the confidence and good- will of 
 a patient at the beginning of his confinement will do well to 
 ponder the contrast afforded by my actions during my first 
 and my last period of elation; and especially should they 
 remember that psychiatrists of wide experience and the 
 highest standing afi&rm that an elated or maniacal condition 
 is inevitably aggravated by unsound and tactless treatment. 
 Indeed, one authority with whom I discussed this point 
 went so far as to say that whether an elated patient shall 
 become a madman — and potential enemy — or a fairly 
 obedient and interesting friend depends, in a majority of 
 cases, upon the capacity and attitude of the persons in 
 charge of him. This significant fact granted, are not the 
 hospital authorities largely responsible for the perpetuation 
 of the dread of institutions wherein the insane are confined, 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 281 
 
 and will not this dread be kept alive until the thousands of 
 recoverable cases treated each year are so intelligently 
 cared for that, upon discharge, "ex-inmates" may sgeak 
 well, rather than ill, of an institution and the men li^ 
 authority ? 
 
XXXV 
 
 On leaving the hospital and resuming my travels, I felt 
 sure that any one of several magazines or newspapers would 
 willingly have had me conduct my campaign under its ner- 
 vously commercial auspices; but a flash-in- the-pan method 
 did not appeal to me. Those noxious growths, Incompe- 
 tence, Abuse, and Injustice, had not only to be cut down, but 
 rooted out. Therefore, I climg to my determination to write 
 a book — an instrument of attack which, if it cuts and tears 
 at all, does so as long as the need exists. Inasmuch as I 
 knew that I still had to learn how to write I approached my 
 task with deliberation. I planned to do two things: first, 
 to crystallize my thoughts by discussion — telling the story 
 of my life whenever, in my travels, I should meet any person 
 who inspired my confidence; second, while the subject- 
 matter of my book was shaping itself in my mind, to drill my- 
 self by carrying out a letter-writing campaign. Both these 
 things I did — as certain indulgent friends who bore the 
 brunt of my spoken and written discourse can certify. I 
 feared the less to be dubbed a bore, and I hesitated the less 
 perhaps to impose upon good nature, because of my firm 
 conviction that one in a position to help the many was him- 
 self entitled to the help of the few. 
 
 I wrote scores of letters of great length. I cared little if 
 some of my friends should conclude that I had been born a 
 century too late; for, without them as confidants, I must 
 write with no more inspiring object in view than the waste- 
 basket. Indeed,, I found it difficult to compose without 
 
 282 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 283 
 
 keeping before me the image of a friend. Having stipulated 
 that every letter should be returned upon demand, I wrote 
 without reserve — my imagination had free rein. I wrote 
 as I thought, and I thought as I pleased. The result 
 was that within six months I found myself writing with 
 a facility which hitherto had obtained only during ela- 
 tion. At first I was suspicious of this new-found and appar- 
 ently permanent ease of expression — so suspicious that 1 
 set about diagnosing my physical symptoms. My self- 
 examination convinced me that I was, in fact, quite normal. 
 I had no irresistible desire to write, nor was there any 
 suggestion of that exalting light-heartedness which character- 
 izes elation. Further, after a prolonged period of composi- 
 tion, I experienced a comforting sense of exhaustion which 
 I had not known while elated. I therefore concluded — 
 and rightly — that my unwonted facility was the product 
 of practice. At last I found myself able to conceive an idea 
 and immediately transfer it to paper. 
 
 In July, 1905, I came to the conclusion that the time for 
 beginning my book was at hand. Nevertheless, I found it 
 difficult to set a definite date. About this time I so arranged 
 my itinerary that I was able to enjoy two summer — though 
 stormy — nights and a day at the Summit House on Mount 
 Washington. What better, thought I, than to begin my 
 book on a plane so high as to be appropriate to this noble 
 summit? I therefore began to compose a dedication. "To 
 Humanity" was as far as I got. There the Muse forsook 
 me. 
 
 But, returning to earth and going about my business, I 
 soon again found myself in the midst of inspiring natural 
 surroundings — the Berkshire Hills. At this juncture Man 
 came to the assistance of Nature, and perhaps with an un- 
 consciousness equal to her own. It was a chance remark 
 
284 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 made by an eminent man that aroused my subconscious 
 literary personality to irresistible action. I had long wished 
 to discuss my project with a man of deserved reputation, 
 and if his reputation were international, so much the better. 
 I desired the unbiased opinion of a judicial mind. 
 Opportunely, I learned that the Hon. Joseph H. Choate 
 was then at his summer residence at Stockbridge, Massachu- 
 setts. Now, I need offer no proof that Mr. Choate, like 
 some eighty odd millions of others, had never heard of me. 
 Neither had I a letter of introduction. But the exigencies 
 of the occasion demanded that I conjure up one. Wishing 
 can do much, for a burning desire can only be quenched by 
 performance. The result was, I wrote my own letter of 
 introduction and sent it: 
 
 Red Lion Inn, 
 
 Stockbridge, Mass. 
 August 18, 1906. 
 Hon. Joseph H. Choate, 
 
 Stockbridge, Massachusetts. 
 Dear Sir: — 
 
 Though I might present myself at your door, armed with one of society's 
 unfair skeleton-keys — a letter of introduction — I prefer to approach you 
 as I now do: simply as a young man who honestly feels entitled to at least 
 five minutes of your time, and as many minutes more as you care to grant 
 because of your interest in the subject to be discussed. 
 
 I look to you at this time for your opinion as to the value of some ideas 
 of mine, and the feasibility of certain schemes based on them. 
 
 A few months ago I talked with President Hadley of Yale, and briefly cut- 
 lined my plans. He admitted that many of them seemed feasible and would, 
 if carried out, add much to the svim-total of human happiness. His only 
 criticism was that they were "too comprehensive." 
 
 Not until I have staggered an imagination of the highest type will I ad- 
 mit that I am trying to do too much. Shoiold you refuse to see me, believe 
 me, when I tell you that you will still be, as you are at this moment, the un- 
 conscious possessor of my sincere respect. 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 285 
 
 Business engagements necessitate my leaving here early on Monday next. 
 Should you care to communicate with me, word sent in care of this hotel 
 will reach me promptly. 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 Cliffoiu) W. Beers. 
 
 Within an hour I had received the following reply: 
 
 Stockbridge, Mass., 
 
 Friday evening. 
 Clifford W. Beers, Esq., 
 Dear Sir: — 
 
 Your note of to-day rec'd. I will see you here for a few minutes to-mor- 
 row morning at ten o'clock. 
 
 Yours truly, 
 
 Joseph H. Choate. 
 
 The next morning at ten o'clock, the door, whose lock I 
 had picked with a pen, opened before me and I was ushered 
 into the presence of Mr. Choate. He was graciousness 
 itself — but pointed significantly at a heap of unanswered 
 correspondence lying before him. I took the hint and within 
 ten minutes briefly outlined my purpose. After pronouncing 
 my project a "commendable one," Mr. Choate offered the 
 suggestion that produced results. Said he: "If you wiU 
 submit your ideas in writing I shall be glad to read your 
 manuscript and assist you in any way I can. To fully con- 
 sider your scheme would require several hours, and busy men 
 cannot very well give you so much time. What they can 
 do is to read your manuscript during their leisure moments." 
 
 Thus it was that Mr. Choate, by granting the inter- 
 view, contributed to an earlier fruition of my plans. One week 
 later I began the composition of this book. My action was 
 
286 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 unpremeditated, as my quitting Boston for less attractive 
 Worcester proves. That very day, finding myself with a 
 day and a half of leisure before me, I decided to tempt the 
 Muse and compel myself to prove that my pen was, in truth, 
 "the tongue of a ready writer." A stranger in the city, I 
 went to a school of stenography and there secured the ser- 
 vices of a young man who, though inexperienced in his art, 
 was more skilled in catching thoughts as they took wing than 
 I was in the art of setting them free. Except in the writing 
 of one or two conventional business letters, never before 
 had I dictated to a stenographer. After I had startled him 
 into an attentive mood by briefly outlining my past career 
 and present purpose, I worked without any definite plan or 
 brief, or reference to data. My narrative was therefore 
 digressive and only roughly chronological. But it served 
 to get my material before my own eyes for future shaping. 
 At this task I hammered away three or four hours a day for 
 a period of five weeks. 
 
 It so happened that Mr. Choate arrived at the same hotel 
 on the same day with myself, so that some of the toil he had 
 inspired went on in his proximity, if not in his presence; 
 but I studiously kept out of his sight, lest he think me a 
 "crank" on the subject of reform, bent on persecuting his 
 leisure. 
 
 As the work progressed my facility increased — in fact, I 
 soon called in an additional stenographer to help in the snar- 
 ing of my flying thoughts. This excessive productivity caused 
 me to pause and again to diagnose my condition. I could 
 not fail now to recognize in myself symptoms hardly dis- 
 tinguishable from those which had obtained eight months 
 earlier when it had been deemed expedient temporarily to 
 restrict my freedom. But I had grown wise in adversity. 
 Rather than interrupt my manuscript short of completion I 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 287 
 
 decided to avail myself of a vacation that v^as due, and re- 
 main without the borders of my native State — this, so that 
 well-meaning but perhaps over-zealous relatives might be 
 spared unnecessary anxiety, and I myself be spared pos- 
 sible unwarranted restrictions. I was by no means certain 
 as to the degree of mental excitement that would result from 
 such continuous mental application; nor did I much care, so 
 long as I accomplished my task. However, as I knew that 
 "possession is nine points of the law," I decided to main- 
 tain my advantage by remaining in my literary fortress. And 
 my resolve was further strengthened by certain cherished 
 sentiments expressed by John Stuart Mill in his essay "On 
 Liberty," — an essay which I have read and re-read with 
 an interest born of experience. 
 
 At last the draft was completed. After a timely remit- 
 tance (for, in strict accordance with the traditions of the craft, 
 I had exhausted my financial resources) I started for home 
 — with a sigh of relief. For months I had been under the 
 burden of a conscious obligation. My memory, stored with 
 information which, if rightly used, could, I believed, brighten 
 unhappy lives, was to me as a basket of eggs which it was my 
 duty to balance on a head whose poise was none too certain. 
 One by one, during the preceding five weeks, I had gently 
 lifted each thought from its resting-place, until my worri- 
 some burden had been so shifted as to admit of its being 
 imposed upon the public conscience. 
 
 After I had lived over again the trials and the tortures 
 of my unhappiest years — which was of course necessary in 
 plowing and harrowing a memory, happily retentive — the 
 completion of the draft left me exhausted. But after a trip 
 to New York, whither I went to convince my employers 
 that I should be granted a further leave-of-absence, I re- 
 sumed work. The ground for this added favor was that my 
 
288 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 manuscript was too crude to submit to any but intimate ac- 
 quaintances. Knowing perhaps that a business man with 
 a literary bee buzzing in his ear is, for the time, no business 
 man at all, my employers readily agreed that I should do as 
 I pleased during the month of October. They also believed 
 me entitled to the favor, recognizing the force of my belief 
 that I had a high obligation to discharge. 
 
 It was under the family roof-tree that I now set up my 
 literary shop. Nine months earlier an unwonted interest 
 in literature and reform had sent me to an asylum. That I 
 should now in my own home be able to work out my destiny 
 without unduly disturbing the peace of mind of relatives was 
 a considerable satisfaction. In the very room where, during 
 June, 1900, my reason had forsaken me, I re-dictated my 
 account of that reason's experiences. It was concerning this 
 draft that I received a good while afterward the first of the 
 two letters from Professor William James of Harvard Uni- 
 versity, which appear in the Introduction to this book. 
 
 My lea ve-of- absence ended, I resimied my travels eagerly; 
 for I wished to cool my brain by daily contact with the more 
 prosaic minds of men of business. I went South. For a 
 time I banished all thoughts of my book and project. But 
 after some months of this change of occupation, which I 
 thoroughly enjoyed, I found leisure in the course of wide 
 travels to take up the work of revision. My hours of leisure 
 I devoted more, however, to reading than to writing. The 
 "excess baggage" which at times I had to pay, was occa- 
 sioned by what I irreverently called "several pounds of rhet- 
 oric." For, though Professor James had paid me the 
 compliment of advising me not to re-write my story, I fear 
 his advice must have been prompted by a doubt as to my 
 ability to improve my composition, rather than the convic- 
 tion that my crude draft was an excellent performance. 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 289 
 
 That draft I submitted to all sorts and conditions of 
 minds (in accordance with Mill's dictum: that only in that 
 way can the truth be obtained). And it is at this point in 
 my narrative, rather than in the dusty corners of the usual 
 preface, that I wish to express my obligation to one critic 
 and helper — my former school-fellow, Mr. Herbert Wescott 
 Fisher. It was he who led me to see my need of technical 
 training, neglected in earlier years. To be exact, however, 
 I must confess that I read rather than studied rhetoric. 
 Close application to its rules served only to discourage me, 
 so I but lazily skimmed these worthy works. But my re- 
 discovered friend did more than direct me to sources. He 
 proved to be the kindly mean, between the two extremes 
 of stranger and intimate. I was a prophet not without honor 
 in his eyes. Upon my embarrassing wealth of material he 
 brought to bear his practical knowledge of the workmanship 
 of writing. My debt to him, in which the reader is a 
 sharer, is almost beyond repayment. Scarcely a paragraph 
 in this book is not the better for his direct touch. And 
 my own drafting of the later parts has been so improved 
 by the practice I have received under his scrupulous direction 
 that he has had little fault to find with them. 
 
 Nothing would please me more than to express specifically 
 my indebtedness to many others who have assisted me in the 
 preparation of my work. But, aside from calling attention 
 to the fact that the managements of the two hospitals so 
 fully discussed have exhibited rare magnanimity (even going 
 so far as to write letters which have helped me in my work), 
 and, further, acknowledging anonymously (the list is too long 
 for explicit mention) the invaluable advice given me by scien- 
 tists who have made my work authoritative, I must be content 
 to indite an all-embracing acknowledgment. Therefore, and 
 with distinct pleasure, I hereby emphasize the fact that the 
 
290 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 active encouragement of casual but trusted acquaintances, 
 the inspiring indifference of unconvinced intimates, and the 
 kindly scepticism of indulgent relatives, who, perforce, could 
 do naught but obey an immutable law of blood-related 
 minds, — all these influences conspired to render more sure 
 the accomplishment of my heart's desire. 
 
 And now the reader nears the end of my life-story. 
 But, before closing this intimate part of my plea for justice 
 long-delayed, I feel that it is my privilege, as it is my duty, 
 to impress upon the reader that he has, unconsciously per- 
 haps, assumed part of the burden which in the very telling 
 of my story I have shifted to the shoulders of the many. 
 If the reader does not now feel that he would like to do 
 something to help those imfortunates for whom I speak, 
 then either I have failed to present my story convincingly, 
 or the reader's love of fair play and his moral nature are 
 of a false kind. 
 
PART IV 
 
 XXXVI 
 
 One in telling such a story as mine owes it to the public 
 to offer a feasible remedy for the evils disclosed. Especially 
 is he under obligation to the relatives and friends of the 
 insane, for a description of heart-rending conditions, offered 
 without hope of correction, cannot but be painful to those 
 most vitally interested in the problem. My obligation in 
 mind, I have spared no effort to make this book authoritative. 
 Alienists, psychologists, neurologists, pathologists, hospital 
 officials, practical sociologists and organizers have been con- 
 sulted. Indeed, as many as fifty persons, representing the 
 more important activities of life, have read my work — in 
 part or entirety — while it was in manuscript or the form of 
 printed proof; and a goodly number of this small army of 
 critics and advisers have found such delight in using the 
 blue pencil of correction that I may now present my book and 
 project with a sense of security which can come only to one 
 whose work has been tried by fire — in private. To these 
 unnamed critics my debt (and the reader's, I believe) is 
 very great. 
 
 By this time two paramount questions have no doubt arisen 
 in the mind of the reader: First, is there in the problem of 
 managing and treating the insane an inherent difficulty which 
 will forever prevent the correction of such abuses and defi- 
 ciencies as have been discussed in this book ? Second, if not, 
 how may the individual assume part of the burden which in 
 the telling of my story has been shifted to the shoulders of 
 the many? 
 
 291 
 
292 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 An emphatic answer to the first question may be given. 
 No inherent difficulty stands in the way of the universal cor- 
 rection of all abuses and deficiencies of treatment complained 
 of in this book — unless it be the inherent apathy of a pub- 
 lic which for centuries has failed to do its duty by the insane. 
 Proof of the soundness of this conclusion may be found in the 
 fact that at this moment an encouraging number of our 
 hospitals for the insane are so ably managed that abuses, 
 common in the poorly managed ones, rarely occur in institu- 
 tions of the approved class. Freedom from the supposedly 
 inevitable evils complained of may usually be traced and 
 rightly attributed to the character and capacity of the man 
 at the head of a given hospital. A high-minded, efficient 
 superintendent, regardless of the apathy of the public, the 
 costly economy of ill-informed legislators, or inadequate, 
 even crude, material equipment of the hospital itself, may 
 so conduct his institution as to protect his insane wards 
 against physical abuse, indignities, and what, in so many 
 cases, amounts to criminal neglect of patients scarcely able 
 to help themselves. 
 
 Surely the situation is by no means hopeless, so long as a 
 superintendent of the right type can (almost single-handed) 
 overcome a sufficient number of the inevitable difficulties 
 to raise the standard of treatment in his institution to a 
 humane level. For, if the efficient few, working under such 
 unfavorable conditions as obtain generally to-day, can con- 
 vert their respective hospitals into the semblance of model 
 ones, how absurd to contend that there can be found among 
 the more than one hundred thousand physicians in this 
 country, fewer than four hundred men capable of assuming 
 the responsibilities of a superintendency ? When intelligent 
 and non-political care in the selection of superintendents 
 shall be rigorously and universally exercised, then, threats, 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 293 
 
 curses, camisoles, muffs, straps, unwarranted seclusion, il- 
 legal exile and physical abuse in general will take their be- 
 lated place in history along with the horrors of the Dark Ages. 
 
 For bringing about the reforms which, of necessity, must 
 precede any such correction of century-old abuses, the in- 
 terest of every right-thinking person in this country must be 
 enlisted. Few, indeed, are endowed with great riches. Few 
 are able to convert their best impulses into an acceptable 
 medium of exchange. But every man and woman can lend 
 a hand, or at least speak a word. Our subject has for gen- 
 erations been neglected. It is the discussion of it that will 
 create and mold PubKc Opinion, and Public Opinion, vig- 
 orously expressed, will, more than any other factor, tend to 
 correct the evils I have denounced. Has my story utterly 
 failed of its purpose? If it has stirred your sympathy it is 
 your duty to give expression to this aroused interest, not to 
 me, but to everybody within your sphere of influence. Con- 
 tinual and sincere expression will wear away that rock of 
 indifference against which the distressed souls and abused 
 bodies of the insane have been bruised for centuries. Has 
 my story — not as the story of my life, but as representing 
 the experiences of thousands of others still living and of 
 thousands whose terrible secrets died with them — has this 
 story, I say, aroused within you the healthy desire to con- 
 tribute at least your influence to the corrective and over- 
 whelming force of Public Opinion? If so, your duty is 
 plain. 
 
 Individual assistance may be given in an easy way. 
 Let each convinced reader of this book be prepared to send 
 his name and address to whatever "Society," "Associa- 
 tion" or "Committee," may be organized when the neces- 
 sity for its existence has been brought home to the public. 
 These names, in the aggregate, will form a mighty petition, 
 
294 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 the force of which no Federal or State official — or Com- 
 mittee of Investigation, will care or dare to ignore. Thus, 
 for the first time in history, legislators throughout the land 
 will have impressed upon them the fact that the pubHc 
 desires hospital managements to have support — such sup- 
 port as will enable them to discharge their obligations 
 to the public — and discharge them in a manner that will 
 bring credit, not disgrace, to a nation distinguished for its 
 love of fair play. 
 
 If the individual may be enlisted in the work of reform, so 
 may the Federal Government. I trust that in this I do not 
 fall into the delusional fad which now seems to prevail of 
 turning to Washington as the panacea for all the States' 
 shortcomings. But, the principal business and justifica- 
 tion of government is the protection of the weak against 
 the strong, and, naturally, there are some things which the 
 Federal Government can do better than any other agency. 
 Everyone knows that through its Department of Agriculture 
 this Nation each year expends many thousands of dollars in 
 economically sound endeavors to exterminate the parasites 
 which prey upon valuable plant and animal life. To anni- 
 hilate the gypsy-moth in Massachusetts and the cattle- 
 destroying tick in Texas, fortunes have been spent. All 
 crops, except the crop upon which prosperity itself depends 
 — the brain crop — have received, or are about to receive, 
 their due protection at the hands of the Government. Yet 
 generation after generation the health of men's minds has 
 been neglected. 
 
 An effective beginning might be made if the Government 
 would establish a Federal Commission for the adequate 
 statistical investigation of insanity.* Such a Commission, 
 
 * See Appendix III for quotations from a report issued (July, 1906) by 
 the Department of Commerce and Labor under the heading: "Insane and 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 295 
 
 supported by governmental prestige and having at its dis- 
 posal the wonderful machinery of the Census Bureau, could 
 secure information which would be denied any private 
 agency. And later, similar Commissions representing the 
 nations of the world could form an International Commis- 
 sion which should become a clearing-house for the world's 
 best thought on the subject of insanity, its cause, cure, and 
 eventual defeat as a common foe to mankind. 
 
 A permanent agency for reform and education in the 
 field of nervous and mental diseases is one of the great 
 needs of the day. Such an agency — whatever its form — 
 could do in its own field what the National Society for the 
 Prevention and Cure of Tuberculosis has done, and is 
 doing, in its sphere of activity. Though the improve- 
 ment of conditions among those actually insane and con- 
 fined should ever be an important factor in shaping the 
 poHcy of such an organization, its most important work 
 would be the waging of an educative war against the pre- 
 vailing ignorance regarding insanity. This, to cure the 
 disease by preventing it, is the only effective cure known. 
 The watchword of such an organization might well be the 
 significant phrase: Mental Hygiene. Its purpose: the 
 spreading of a common-sense gospel of right thinking in 
 order to bring about right living, knowledge of which is 
 needed by the public at large if the population of our 
 asylums is to be controlled and eventually decreased. A 
 campaign of education, rigorously carried on, would, in time. 
 
 Feeble-minded in Hospitals and Institutions, 1904." The compiler of 
 this report complains of the inadequate data on which he had to base his 
 conclusions. 
 
296 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 lead to the rescue of thousands who, if left in ignorance, 
 must, of necessity, drift into a state of actual and perhaps 
 incurable insanity. Editors, ministers, educators, philan- 
 thropists, and members of the medical profession, as well, 
 could do much to further such a work of enlightenment. 
 
 Having promised the reader a "remedy," I dare to offer 
 a definite recommendation, based on the advice of interested 
 supporters who, for years, have been actively engaged in 
 successful works of reform and education. I suggest that a 
 "National Committee" (modeled after the very efficient 
 "National Child Labor Committee") shall, without delay, 
 be brought to a working perfection. Such a "Committee" 
 could co-operate with Federal, State, and local agencies — 
 and do so in such a manner that representative men and 
 women in each State may, when it takes shape, control the 
 movement in their respective communities. 
 
 The ramifications of the proposed organization would 
 be so numerous as not to admit of detailed description 
 here. Suffice it to say that the "National Committee for 
 Mental Hygiene" (I present the name for consideration) 
 would be equally the friend of the physician and the patient ; 
 also the friend of a patient's relatives, to whom, when bur- 
 dened with an actual or impending affliction, it would be- 
 come an unfailing source of information, advice, and com- 
 fort. In a word, it would be a friend to Humanity, for no 
 man knows when he himself may have to look to it for 
 assistance. 
 
 ■ff 
 
XXXVII 
 
 The history of the development of Non-Restraint is in- 
 tensely interesting, but too long a story to admit of its incor- 
 poration in this book. However, the reader may gain a 
 comprehensive idea of the inception of this humane principle, 
 its scientific value and practicability, if he will but turn to 
 Appendix I and read the opinion of an earnest believer 
 in Non-Restraint, Dr. Charles W. Page, Superintendent of 
 the Danvers State Hospital for the Insane, at Hathorne, 
 Massachusetts. An active superintendent of wide experi- 
 ence, he testifies that since dehberately introducing Non- 
 Restraint, "I have been responsible for the custody and 
 treatment of more than six thousand insane persons, not 
 one of whom was restrained with mechanical appliances by 
 my orders or within my knowledge." How, then, can any 
 superintendents, worthy of support, continue to use apolo- 
 getically that cruel method which they dare not freely 
 advocate? The mere fact that their attitude is apologetic 
 proves that these unprogressive men (to use a mild term) can 
 be converted, provided Public Opinion will do its right 
 work. 
 
 Though the universal adoption and continued use of Non- 
 Restraint will contribute to the well-being, even happiness, 
 of the inmates of our hospitals, its use alone cannot materially 
 decrease the total number of insane persons, except in so far 
 as the resulting recoveries will more than offset the average 
 greater number of years a patient is Ukely to live in an insti- 
 tution where he is treated kindly and scientifically from 
 
 297 
 
/ 
 
 298 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 the moment of commitment. Of course, if, in a supposedly 
 humane age, it is the poUcy of the pubHc to treat the unfor- 
 tunate insane harshly, even brutally, with the hope of killing 
 some and cutting short the lives of others, destined to live 
 long under favorable conditions, Restraint is the method of 
 treatment to use, and the more cruel and repressive it is, the 
 easier will it be for some cold-blooded calculator to prove 
 that by its means, money has been saved the State. But 
 it will be at the cost of killing many patients who might 
 recover; and, further, such an accountant in arriving at 
 his heartless result would certainly have to disregard the 
 economically sound law that it is cheaper for the State 
 to spend any amount of money for the prevention and 
 cure of insanity than it is to neglect those threatened or 
 afflicted with it. 
 
 It is evident, therefore, that insanity, if it is ever to be con- 
 quered, must be attacked along lines not commonly followed 
 to-day. As to the method of attack to adopt there can be no 
 argument, for the masters of medical education in every 
 country on the continent of Europe have proved the prac- 
 ticability and value of the plan in question. What is needed 
 in order to reach the root of the problem of insanity is the 
 establishing of so-called Psychiatric or Psychopathic Hos- 
 pitals in connection with our Medical Schools, — hospitals 
 wherein nervous and mental diseases may be treated in the 
 most scientific manner, not only for the benefit of the 
 patients, but also for the benefit of physicians and stu- 
 dents. What a leap forward in humanitarian endeavor 
 it would be if each university, so situated and organ- 
 ized as to warrant it, should have under its everlasting 
 protection a modem Psychopathic Hospital! (Have not 
 seats of learning outlasted seats of government?) And 
 what could be more appropriate than the restoration 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 299 
 
 of lost reasons under the hospitable protection of the very 
 institutions wherein reason itself is trained to do its right 
 work ? Thus will it become possible to instruct the medical 
 profession generally in psychiatry or psychopathology — a 
 branch of medicine about which thousands of physicians 
 know little, — or, in many instances, nothing at all. In 
 addition, numberless persons threatened with mental col- 
 lapse, or actually insane, will then receive the benefit of 
 prompt and scientific treatment at a time when the mental 
 life of the afflicted one hangs in the balance. Further, 
 Psychopathic Hospitals will enable scientists to study insan- 
 ity; and such institutions, by setting a high standard, will 
 soon raise the standard of treatment throughout the country. 
 
 The necessity for such modem hospitals may be appre- 
 ciated when an accredited authority in this country on 
 matters pertaining to medical education (Dr. William H. 
 Welch of Johns Hopkins University) can say, as he did to 
 the writer of this book: ''The most urgent need in medical 
 education in America, to-day, is the need of Psychiatric 
 Clinics (Psychopathic Hospitals) where medical students, 
 and physicians as well, may benefit by instruction in psy- 
 chiatry, and where scientific research into the cause and cure 
 of insanity may be carried on unceasingly." 
 
 When the fact is considered that each university in Ger- 
 many, France, Italy, Switzerland, Austria, Russia, Norway, 
 Sweden, Denmark, Holland, Belgium, Brazil, Argentine 
 Republic and Japan, at the pesent time, has a psychiatric 
 clinic under its own control, and that no physician in most 
 of these countries may practice medicine until he has passed 
 a satisfactory examination in psychiatry, the disgraceful 
 state of affairs existing in this, the richest nation in the world, 
 may be the more readily appreciated. In Germany a 
 system of state-supported sanatoriums has long been in 
 
300 
 
 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 successful operation. These institutions, however, are not 
 open to those afflicted with a developed mental disease. 
 They are designed for the exclusive use of those threatened 
 with mental collapse. The Germans engage in the rescu- 
 ing of those threatened with insanity because they have 
 been wise enough to realize that it is cheaper to help the 
 individual back to health than to let him break down com- 
 pletely and live, perhaps for years, a burden on the State. 
 In the hght of such embarrassing facts, it is indeed 
 high time that the United States of America should 
 prove itself the vauntedly progressive nation it is sup- 
 posed to be, by taking hold of the neglected problem 
 of insanity, and, through its several State Legislatures, 
 bringing into existence Psychopathic Hospitals of the type 
 described in the interesting U. S. Consular Report on 
 the Munich Clinic, quoted in full in Appendix II. That 
 the movement toward the erection of such model hos- 
 pitals is already under way is a fact, and those who know the 
 field predict that within five years a majority of the States 
 will be operating institutions of the desired type, and that 
 within a decade no State will be without at least one Psycho- 
 pathic Hospital of its own.^ Thus far, Michigan is the only 
 State in the Union to erect a modern Psychopathic Hos- 
 pital. New York, however, has taken steps toward the 
 erection of one, a well-meant though totally inadequate 
 appropriation having been voted for the purpose.^ 
 
 1 In the year 1906, at a cost of about $75,000, a hospital of this type was 
 brought under the control of the University Hospital at Ann Arbor, Michi- 
 gan. Because of the close relations existing between the State authorities 
 and those of the University (of Michigan), this new institution, though 
 virtually a part of the University, is at the same time a part of the system 
 of State Hospitals. 
 
 ^If this State will appropriate, say, Si, 000,000 instead of the com- 
 paratively paltry $300,000 already voted, New York City will have 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 301 
 
 As the location of this particular type of hospital is of 
 vital importance, I shall here venture to emphasize an 
 underlying principle which cannot be safely ignored when 
 the selection of a site for such an institution comes up 
 for decision. After discussing this subject with alienists, 
 superintendents and assistant physicians of hospitals for 
 the insane, and with certain recognized authorities on 
 the needs of the insane, I am led to the sure conclusion 
 that Psychopathic Hospitals erected at the expense of the State 
 should be made a part of the existing hospital system. No 
 State Hospital can hope to fulfil its functions properly until 
 it has under its control, and within easy reach — that is, 
 within the hospital confines — a separate building erected 
 for the purpose of treating acute cases of insanity, either 
 newly-admitted ones, or so-called chronic cases during 
 recurrent, acute periods of depression or excitement. Pa- 
 tients of the latter class are numerous in our large hospitals, 
 and when a management, because of inadequate equipment, 
 has to treat such cases in the wards with patients less dis- 
 turbed, a great injustice is done not only to the "acute cases" 
 but to all other patients who are forced to live in the same 
 ward with them. Failure on the part of those in authority 
 to provide each State Hospital for the Insane with a Psycho- 
 pathic Hospital or PaviHon (by which is meant a separate 
 building, or group of small buildings) will bring about 
 a result which it is painful even to contemplate ; for the mo- 
 ment the Psychopathic Hospital is set apart as a favored type 
 of institution, that moment will the State Hospitals or asy- 
 lums, so-called, sink — in the estimation of the public — to 
 a level far below the level of the worst managed asylum 
 at present in existence. To adopt a policy which would 
 
 what it so richly deserves — a modern hospital as good as the one at 
 Munich. 
 
302 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 widen the already great gulf that exists between gen- 
 eral hospitals and asylums would undo in a day the work 
 of a century. I have criticised with a considerable, yet mer- 
 ited, severity, our State Hospitals for the Insane; neverthe- 
 less, these two hundred and odd hospitals, erected at a cost 
 to the Nation of over one hundred milHons of dollars, con- 
 stitute the nucleus of what will, in time, — if rightly man- 
 aged — become the most perfect hospital system in the world. 
 Continue to force the several managements to minister to 
 the insane with hospitals which lack that most essential 
 remedial feature, the Psychopathic Pavilion, and the dread 
 of insanity and asylums which of late years (I am thankful 
 to be able to record) has grown noticeably and hope- 
 fully weaker, will not only be perpetuated — it will be 
 cruelly and needlessly intensified ! But let the many States 
 in the Union which shall erect Psychopathic Hospitals 
 during the ensuing decade make a beginning by adding to 
 our existing asylums adequate treatment divisions, and the 
 present dread of insanity, and the dread of asylums, will, in 
 a relatively short time, be reduced to an intelligent minimum. 
 Then ordinary asylums, instead of continuing to rank as 
 mere prison-houses, will rise to the level of the best of our 
 general hospitals, and eventually they will become a source 
 of justifiable pride to the Nation. 
 
 I would not have it thought that I favor the building of 
 Psychopathic Hospitals only where they may be brought 
 under the control of a state hospital already established. 
 My advice in that connection had to do only with appropri- 
 ations that shall be made during the next few years by State 
 Legislatures. When it comes to philanthropic work that 
 may be done by individuals of vast wealth, or by bodies of 
 public-spirited men and women for the benefit of their re- 
 spective communities, the suggestion I have to make is quite 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 303 
 
 different. At first, money secured from private sources 
 should go toward the building and endowing of Psycho- 
 pathic Hospitals, which preferably may be brought under 
 the control of those universities which have medical de- 
 partments. 
 
 Cities where there are universities, and the larger and 
 wealthier cities throughout the country, will before long have 
 such institutions; but the smaller cities — even some having 
 from one hundred to three hundred thousand inhabitants — 
 will be unable to secure or maintain independent Psycho- 
 pathic Hospitals. As each community owes it to itself to 
 make provision for the prompt treatment of cases of incipient 
 insanity, and thus spare the individual the ordeal of commit- 
 ment as an incompetent, it is fortunate that relief is at 
 hand for such cities as cannot maintain a modem Psycho- 
 pathic Hospital. Here the so-called General Hospital may 
 be put to full use. Separate buildings, or pavilions, may 
 be erected and maintained at comparatively slight cost, as 
 has already been proved by the success of the Psychopathic 
 Hospital at Ann Arbor, Michigan. That is to say, for con- 
 siderably less than $100,000 an efficient department of Men- 
 tal and Nervous diseases may be organized and brought 
 under the control of any well managed General Hos- 
 pital. Though there is but one General Hospital in the 
 country where this problem has been worked out, the results 
 of what five years ago was an experiment have justified the 
 rather startling venture made by the pioneer in this impor- 
 tant work.^ Dr. J. Montgomery Mosher, Speciahst in Ner- 
 vous and Mental Diseases at the Albany Hospital, Albany, 
 
 ' At Bellevue Hospital (New York City) cases of insanity are received and 
 held pending examination and transfer. As few patients remain longer 
 than five days in this Psychopathic Ward, the ward becomes little more than 
 a clearing-house for trouble — not an agency for cure. 
 
304 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 N. Y., is the man who has had the courage and good sense 
 to go ahead and prove that a General Hospital should and 
 can receive and treat mental diseases as successfully as the 
 diseases which are now treated without question in such 
 institutions. In Pavilion F, at the Albany Hospital, remark- 
 able results have been obtained during the five years it has 
 been in operation. This is proved by a passage from an 
 address by Dr. Mosher delivered before the 34th National 
 Conference of Charities and Corrections at Minneapolis, 
 Minnesota, June i8th, 1907. He says: 
 
 "From February i8th, 1902, the day of the first admission, 
 to February 28th, 1907, one thousand thirty patients have en- 
 tered the building (Pavilion F). Of these five hundred and 
 ninety-six have returned to their homes recovered and im- 
 proved ; three hundred and sixteen have remained stationary, 
 and eighty-six have died. Two hundred and forty-five 
 have been transferred to institutions for the insane; of these, 
 one hundred and twenty-six were sent to Pavilion F for 
 detention during the legal proceedings, and one hundred and 
 eighteen were committed after a period of observation. It 
 thus appears that nine hundred and five patients have been 
 under treatment without legal process, one hundred and 
 eighteen of whom it became necessary to commit later to 
 institutions for the insane. 
 
 "If this special provision for the treatment of the mentally 
 deranged had not been made in the Albany Hospital, then 
 these nine hundred and eight patients would either have had 
 to be improperly treated at home, or would have been com- 
 mitted after a probably harmful development of the disease. 
 It is impossible to judge how many have been saved from an 
 unnecessary commitment," 
 
 I urge the reader to turn to Appendix IV where he 
 will find Dr. Mosher's address in full. It will prove that 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 305 
 
 General Hospitals throughout the country should begin 
 to receive and treat nervous and mental diseases as is 
 now being done with success at the General Hospital at 
 Albany. 
 
XXXVIII 
 
 Given Psychopathic Hospitals and "Mental Wards" or 
 "Pavilions" at our General Hospitals, there still remains 
 another type of institution to be added if patients with a 
 chance for recovery are to receive the treatment they deserve. 
 Statistics show that twenty per cent of those who recover 
 from an attack of insanity recover after having been con- 
 fined in a hospital or asylum for a year or more. Obviously, 
 recoverable cases cannot remain for that length of time in a 
 Psychopathic Hospital or in a "Mental Ward" in a General 
 Hospital. The hospital or "Pavilion" with a Hmited num- 
 ber of beds (and it will be many years before there are a 
 sufficient number of Psychopathic Hospitals to supply the 
 demand for accommodations) must, of necessity, keep its 
 population moving if the acute cases occurring every day 
 are to be received and given treatment at a time when the 
 lives — mental lives, at least — of the afilicted ones hang in 
 the balance. To make room for new cases, the hopeful 
 and convalescent cases must be transferred to the homes of 
 the patients — there to disorganize and distress the house- 
 holds; or they must be transferred to an asylum; or, provided 
 the expense can be borne, transferred to a private hospital 
 or sanatorium. This state of affairs lays bare a fault which 
 should be corrected without delay. It is evident, therefore, 
 that an intermediate type of institution state-supported, 
 co-operatively managed, or endowed, should be brought 
 into the field. 
 
 Here the model sanatorium — a place of considerable 
 
 306 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 307 
 
 freedom — should intervene. In time the several States 
 (following the enhghtened example of Germany) will 
 no doubt erect such institutions, but so much remains 
 to be done by the States in the way of improving existing 
 State Hospitals and asylums that the immediate creation of 
 these indispensable adjuncts to a perfect hospital system 
 must be undertaken by public- spirited citizens, possessed of 
 wealth and the impulse to spend it for the good of those 
 less fortunate. If one man, Mr. D. O. Mills of New 
 York, may erect and operate, at a fair return on his in- 
 vestment, hotels which provide self-respecting poor with 
 wholesome surroundings and good food, and still charge 
 only nominal rates for the accommodations, why may 
 not philanthropy and business be likewise combined for 
 the benefit of those threatened with nervous or mental 
 collapse ? This class would include those who, after treat- 
 ment in a Psychopathic Hospital, must continue treatment 
 of some kind for the few months which will elapse be- 
 fore they are again in condition to engage in gainful 
 occupation. In suggesting that the "Mills Hotel Plan" 
 be applied to the sanatorium field, I think I am on safe 
 ground; and I trust that individuals of wealth will turn 
 their attention to a field so rich in possibilities that it may be 
 worked at a profit that can be measured not only in money, 
 but in service to mankind. 
 
 Perhaps, if I give an added chapter of my experiences, 
 those in a position to correct a great evil will be the more 
 ready to undertake the work. 
 
XXXIX 
 
 The particular evil I have referred to at the end of the 
 preceding chapter is the heartless way in which many owners 
 of private hospitals and sanatoriums take advantage of 
 people in distress. Knowing that the relatives of an 
 insane person will seldom place him in a public insti- 
 tution until their resources are completely exhausted, these 
 owners proceed to drive almost as sharp a bargain as they 
 would were they trading horses with a known trickster. 
 The desire to succor distressed relatives is an emotion 
 scarcely known to this type of man. CommerciaHsm, not 
 philanthropy, is his passion. "Pay the price or place 
 your relative in a public institution!" is the burden of his 
 discordant song before commitment. "Pay, or get out!" is 
 his jarring refrain when satisfied that he has exhausted the 
 family resources. 
 
 Though I am well within my rights in criticising the qual- 
 ity of heart exhibited by typical owners of such institutions 
 as are run for personal gain, it is only fair to point out that 
 this hardness of heart of the individual is but a chip off the 
 stumbHng-block of pubHc apathy. So long as the public 
 refuses or neglects to establish hospitals where the insane 
 may receive the best of treatment at minimum cost, is it 
 reasonable to expect individuals to invest fortunes in a re- 
 sponsible and irksome work unless they see the chance to 
 extort an unfair return? Assuredly not. In fact, these 
 owners, by much and continued thought, have tricked them- 
 selves into the belief that they are indeed public benefactors 
 
 308 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 309 
 
 — wherein they are not entirely wrong, for they have, in a 
 measure, filled the gap that exists in our hospital system of 
 to-day. 
 
 Do you imagine that I speak with undue severity ? Let 
 me then refer to certain hitherto unrecorded incidents in my 
 own life. They occurred while I was an inmate of a private 
 sanatorium of the type condemned. The institution in 
 question, though by no means deserving of rank among the 
 best, is one of the largest of its kind in this country. From 
 a modest beginning, made not many years ago, it has en- 
 joyed a mushroom growth, and to-day harbors about two 
 hundred and fifty unfortunates. Its material equipment is 
 cheap. It is composed of a dozen or more small frame build- 
 ings, suggestive of a mill settlement. Outside the limits of 
 a city, and in a State where there is no ofiicial supervision 
 worth mentioning, the owner of this little settlement of woe 
 has erected a nest of veritable fire-traps. Within these the 
 most helpless of all mankind are forced to risk lives which 
 may, or may not, again be of real value. This is a dangerous 
 economy, but it is of course necessary if the owner is surely 
 to grind out an exorbitant interest on his investment. 
 
 The same spirit of economy pervades the entire institu- 
 tion. Its worst manifestation is in the employment of 
 the meanest type of attendant. In a State Hospital for the 
 Insane there is perhaps some slight excuse for limiting the 
 remuneration of attendants, for there the appropriation for 
 maintenance per week is limited usually to three or four 
 dollars for each of the patients. But, in private sana- 
 toriums, where the average minimum charge per week is, 
 as a rule, twenty or twenty-five dollars, and where many 
 patients pay forty or fifty dollars or more, there is no excuse 
 for an economy so pernicious. The owner of such a gold 
 mine cannot honestly plead that a lack of funds forces 
 
3IO A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 him to employ attendants who are willing to work for a 
 paltry eighteen dollars a month — $4.50 per week — a wage 
 which kitchen servants frequently refuse to accept. Occasion- 
 ally a competent attendant consents to work here when there 
 is a scarcity of profitable employment elsewhere. Witness 
 the young man who, shortly after my arrival at this private 
 institution, providentially (for me) sought and secured a 
 position. He received only eighteen dollars a month at the 
 beginning; the sixth and last month of his employment there 
 he received the same meager wage. This man, so long as 
 he remained in the good graces of the owner-superintendent, 
 was admittedly one of the best attendants he had ever had. 
 Yet aside from a five-dollar bill which a relative had sent me 
 at Christmas and which I had refused to accept because of 
 my belief that it, as well as my relatives, was counterfeit — 
 aside from that, this competent attendant and charitable 
 friend received no additional rewards. His chief reward lay in 
 his consciousness of the fact that he was protecting me against 
 injustices which surely would have been visited upon me had 
 he quitted his position and left me to the mercies of the owner 
 and his ignorant assistants. To-day, with deep apprecia- 
 tion, I often contrast the treatment I received at his hands 
 with that which I suffered during the three weeks preceding 
 his appearance on the scene. During that period, not fewer 
 than seven attendants contributed to my misery. Though 
 some of them were perhaps decent enough fellows outside 
 a sick-room, not one had more right to minister to a man 
 in my condition than has a butcher to perform delicate 
 operations in surgery. 
 
 The two who first attended me did not strike me with 
 their fists or even threaten to do so; but their unconscious 
 lack of consideration for my comfort and peace of mind 
 was torture. They were typical eighteen-doUar-a-month at- 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 311 
 
 tendants. Another attendant of the same sort, on one occa- 
 sion, cursed me with a degree of brutaUty which I prefer not 
 to recall, much less record. And a few days later the climax 
 was appropriately capped when still another eighteen-doUar- 
 a-month attendant perpetrated an outrage which a sane 
 man would have resented to the point of homicide. He was 
 a man of the coarsest type. His hands would have done 
 credit to a longshoreman — fingers knotted and nearly twice 
 the normal size. Because I refused to obey a peremptory 
 command, and this at a time when I habitually refused on 
 pain even of imagined torture to obey or to speak, this brute 
 not only cursed me with abandon, he deliberately spat upon 
 me. I was a mental incompetent, but like many others in 
 a similar position, I was, both by antecedents and by train- 
 ing, a gentleman. Vitriol could not have seared my flesh 
 more deeply than the venom of this human viper stung my 
 soul! Yet, as I was rendered speechless by delusions, I could 
 offer not so much as a word of protest. I trust that it is not 
 now too late, however, to protest in behalf of the thousands 
 of outraged patients in private and State hospitals whose 
 mute submission to such indignities has never been recorded. 
 
 If the owner-superintendent of this particular sanatorium 
 were brought to book for such offenses, what excuse would 
 he offer? A hundred to one he would enter the evasive 
 plea that such outrages were committed not only without 
 his consent but without his suspicion. That he did not 
 expressly countenance such practices I concede. As to his 
 not suspecting that ignorant, untrained, ill-paid attendants 
 do continually outrage the finer feelings of patients, I im- 
 peach the truth and the sincerity of such a denial. These 
 owners know what must be the natural consequences of their 
 niggardly policy. 
 
 Of their readiness to employ inferior attendants, I shall 
 
312 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 offer a striking illustration. The attendant who acted as 
 my protector at this sanatorium has given me an affidavit 
 embodying certain facts which, of course, I could not have 
 known at the time of their occurrence. The gist of this 
 sworn statement is as follows : One day a man — seemingly 
 a tramp — approached the main building at the sanatorium 
 and inquired for the owner. He soon found him, talked 
 with him a few minutes, and an hour or so later he was sit- 
 ting at the bedside of an old and infirm man. This aged 
 patient had recently been committed to the institution by 
 relatives who had labored under the common delusion that 
 the payment of a considerable sum of money each week 
 would insure kindly treatment. When this tramp-attend- 
 ant first appeared, all his visible worldly possessions were 
 contained in a small bundle which he carried under his arm. 
 So filthy were his person and his clothes that he received a 
 compulsory bath and another suit before being assigned 
 to duty. He then began to earn his four dollars and fifty 
 cents a week by sitting several hours a day in the room with 
 the aged man, sick unto death. My informant soon en- 
 gaged him in conversation. What facts did he elicit ? First, 
 that the uncouth stranger never before had worked as an 
 attendant, nor had he ever so much as crossed the threshold 
 of a hospital. His last job had been as a member of a 
 section-gang on a railroad. From the roadbed of a railway 
 to the bedside of a man about to die was indeed a change 
 which might have taxed the adaptabihty of a more versatile 
 being. But as coarse as he was, this unkempt novice did 
 not abuse his charge, — except in so far as his inability to 
 interpret or anticipate the wants of the patient contrib- 
 uted to that afflicted one's distress. My own attend- 
 ant, realizing that the patient in question was suffering most 
 of all for the want of those innumerable attentions which a 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 313 
 
 trained nurse cannot fail to bestow, spent a part of his time 
 in this unhappy room, which was but across the hall from 
 my own. The end soon came. My attendant, whose ex- 
 perience had been a wide one, detected the unmistakable 
 signs of impending death. He forthwith informed the 
 owner of the sanatorium that Mr. was in a dying con- 
 dition, and urged him (a doctor) to repair at once to the bed- 
 side of the patient. The doctor refused to comply with the 
 request on the plea that he was, at the time, "too busy." 
 When at last he did visit the room the patient was dead. 
 Then came the supervisor who took charge of the body. 
 As it was being carried from the room this "handyman" of 
 the owner's said: "There goes the best paying patient the 
 institution had; the doctor" (meaning the owner) "was 
 getting eighty-five dollars a week out of him." Of this 
 sum not more than twenty dollars at most could be con- 
 sidered as "cost of maintenance." The remaining sixty-five 
 dollars went into the pocket of the owner. Had the man 
 lived for one year the owner might have pocketed as a profit 
 (so far as this one case was concerned) the neat but wicked 
 sum of thirty-three hundred and eighty dollars. And what 
 would the patient have received? The same privilege of 
 living in neglect and dying neglected. 
 
 To this day the relatives of the victim of this outrageous 
 neglect do not know of the injustice that was done them. 
 They believed that eighty-five dollars a week would in- 
 sure the best of attention, — and so it would have done 
 had the trusted owner been deserving of the confidence 
 placed in him.^ From a reliable source I learn that the 
 
 * Other instances of abuses existing in private hospitals for the in- 
 sane will be found in Appendix V, where a brief report appears, written 
 by M. Allen Starr, M.D., Professor of Nervous and Mental Diseases at 
 Columbia University. 
 
314 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 owner of the run-for-gain sanatorium discussed, brags that 
 his profit during a recent year amounted to $98,000. My 
 informant, a man conversant with the question at issue, 
 figures that a profit of six dollars a week from each pa- 
 tient would have enabled this acquisitive owner to make 
 the $98,000 he professes to have made. But let us cut 
 the reported brag in two, just to be on the safe side. 
 Does any one believe that an inefiicient owner of a sana- 
 torium deserves to receive a yearly profit equal to the 
 salary of the President of the United States? 
 
 As to my own experience at this institution : during the first 
 weeks of it, my relatives were obliged to pay forty dollars a 
 week for my care. Under the circumstances it was not an un- 
 reasonable figure — for, both by day and night, I required 
 an attendant; nor do I even affirm that the eighty-five 
 dollars a week, wrung from the rich man, was in itself 
 exorbitant. But is it right for the owner of a sanatorium 
 to demand and accept either forty or eighty-five dollars a 
 week, and then permit the helpless patient to be subjected 
 to indignities and neglect? I know of a sanatorium where 
 the owner refuses to take any patient who cannot afford to 
 pay one hundred dollars a week. He caters to the wealthy, 
 and secures a sufficient number of patients to fill his hospital. 
 I respect that man. He deserves success, for he gives each 
 patient better care than he could possibly get in the most 
 self-sacrificing household. To expect him to reduce his 
 rates would be as unreasonable as to expect the owner of 
 real estate, simply because a church or hospital is to be 
 erected thereon, to sell it below the market price. The law 
 of supply and demand (together with a culpable lack of 
 State supervision) regulates the rates now charged by owners 
 of sanatoriums. Therefore the lowering of rates to a fair 
 figure can be brought about only when Psychopathic Hos- 
 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 315 
 
 pitals and co-operative, or endowed, sanatoriums shall 
 have entered the field of competition. That such institu- 
 tions will reduce the prevailing exorbitant charges, and 
 force the existing type of owner to treat his patients and 
 their relatives fairly, is at least indicated, if not proved, by 
 the fact that the Psychopathic Hospital at Munich, Ger- 
 many, — the finest of its kind in the world — charges for 
 the most scientific treatment known, not more than $16.66 
 a week, and as low as $9.52; with a minimum of $4.97 per 
 week for patients unable to pay more. And as stated in 
 the Consular Report (Appendix II) "the treatment and 
 medical services are precisely the same to all, according to 
 condition and necessities." 
 
 Not so, however, in a majority of private institutions. 
 The quality of the food, for instance, is Hkely to vary with 
 the fee paid. The poorer patients are, in a way, the buz- 
 zards of the flock. The coarsest cuts are their accustomed 
 portion. To this the attendants themselves can testify, 
 for they are often forced to eat veritable husks — the crumbs 
 which fall from the owner's table. In my opinion the 
 food served at the State Hospital was far better than that 
 served to many patients at this run-for-profit sanatorium: 
 and the food served at the large private hospital, conducted 
 not for personal profit, was, on the whole, as good as any 
 man might need or desire. 
 
 This comparison is illuminating. The owner of a pri- 
 vate sanatorium is but human, and it is extremely difiicult 
 for him to see any advantage in supplying food of quality 
 or variety, when, by so doing, his profit will be decreased by 
 thousands of dollars during a single year. The manage- 
 ment of an incorporated and endowed institution, whose 
 only possible profit is to be found in their agreed salaries, 
 would not be hkely to impose in this way upon their insane 
 
3i6 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 charges and patrons. No corrupting desire for gain would 
 influence them. It is highly desirable, therefore, that all 
 private hospitals for the insane should at once be brought 
 under rigorous State supervision, requiring that such insti- 
 tutions be duly incorporated under laws which will protect 
 patients against abuse and patrons against extortion, — at 
 the same time permitting a trustworthy owner to make a 
 fair profit on his investment. Or, better still — and even- 
 tually I hope to behold it — let there be no hospitals at all 
 run for private gain. I do not advocate a hasty change. 
 It will be years before there are in operation a sufiicient 
 number of Psychopathic Hospitals, "mental wards" in 
 General Hospitals, and co-operative sanatoriums to render 
 useless the existing type of run-for-gain institutions. In the 
 meantime PubHc Opinion, through proper channels, should 
 so far as possible force owners of private hospitals to re- 
 duce their charges to a fair figure and, at the same time, 
 treat all patients with consideration and honesty. 
 
^ 
 
 CONCLUSION 
 
 The field is before us! The disgrace of the facts (of 
 which I have related but a few) still cries to Heaven. 
 Though the days of dungeons, manacles, shackles, ropes, 
 straps, and chains have, in the main, passed, it should 
 yet be borne in mind that our great hospitals, with their 
 beautiful grounds, are too often but cloaks wherewith 
 a well-intentioned but blind civilization still covers a 
 hideous nakedness. This cruel and deceptive cloak must 
 be torn off. Let these mysteries be converted into open 
 Truth and Fairness. That the pubHc has long been de- 
 ceived by appearances is not surprising. For, even I, in 
 walking casually through the wards of such a hospital, find 
 it weU-nigh impossible to reahze that many of the inmates 
 are subjected to even mild abuse. Even I, who have suf- 
 fered the most exquisite torture from "muffs" and strait- 
 jackets (camisoles), have, in my several tours of inspection at 
 State Hospitals, looked upon a patient so bound with a feel- 
 ing rather akin to curiosity than sympathy. So innocent do 
 these instruments of restraint appear when one views a 
 victim for the few moments it takes to pass him by, it is 
 little wonder that a glib-tongued apologist of "Restraint" 
 may easily convince one that the bound patient is, in 
 fact, better so. Nevertheless, he is not better so. The few 
 seconds that the observer beholds him are but an infinitesi- 
 mal fraction of the long hours, days or weeks, that he must 
 endure the embrace of what soon becomes an engine of 
 torture. There is but one remedy for the evils attending 
 
 317 
 
3i8 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
 
 the mechanical restraint of the insane. At once and for- 
 ever abandon the vicious and crude principle which makes 
 its use possible. 
 
 The question is : will the reader help to bring about im- 
 proved conditions? If so, let him take his stand as an 
 advocate of Non-Restraint. So will he befriend those un- 
 fortunates whose one great need may best be epitomized in 
 these words — the words of a man who for a score of years 
 worked among the insane in the capacity of assistant 
 physician, and later as superintendent of a state hospital. 
 His simple though vital remark to me was: "After all, 
 what the insane most need is a friend!'^ 
 
 These words, so spoken, came with a certain startling 
 freshness. And yet it was the subhme and healing power 
 of this same love which received its most signal demonstra- 
 tion two thousand years ago at the hands of one who restored 
 to reason and his home that man of Scripture "who had his 
 dwelling among the tombs ; and no man could bind him, no, 
 not with chains : Because that he had been often bound with 
 fetters and chains, and the chains had been plucked asunder 
 by him, and the fetters broken in pieces : neither could any 
 man tame him. And always, night and day, he was in 
 the mountains, and in the tombs, crying, and cutting him- 
 self with stones. But when he saw Jesus afar off, he ran 
 and worshipped him. And cried with a loud voice, and 
 said, What have I to do with thee, Jesus, thou Son of the 
 Most High God ? I adjure thee by God, that thou torment 
 me not." 
 
 For twenty centuries the cry of the insane has been and 
 to-day is: "Torment me not! Torment me not!" 
 
APPENDICES 
 
APPENDIX I 
 
 Mechanical Restraint and Seclusion of Insane 
 Persons 
 
 by charles w. page, m.d. 
 
 Read at State Board of Insanity Conference, State House, Boston, 
 Massachusetts, May 17, 1904. 
 
 Whele a certain proportion of the human family must 
 have suffered from mental disorders for ages past, it is only 
 about one hundred years since the propriety of controlling 
 insane persons by the aid of manacles, shackles, chains, 
 ropes, straps, etc., was especially called into question. At 
 this stage of the world's progress, it is difficult for one to 
 comprehend those former-day doctrines of philosophy, 
 religion and ethics which overpowered or distorted human 
 sensibilities to such a degree that compassion for the afflicted 
 insane had little, if any weight in deciding what measures 
 should be employed in their treatment; while a vague mys- 
 terious horror, or fear of the disease, readily suggested to 
 friends or custodians barbarous antagonism to its manifes- 
 tations. During the political and social upheaval of the 
 French Revolution, but quite aside from any design on the 
 part of the revolutionary actors, that great moral genius, 
 Philippe Pinel, was appointed superintendent of the Bicetre, 
 the great Paris asylum for incurable insane men. When 
 Pinel entered the asylum with M. Couthon, a member of the 
 Commune, they were greeted, it is said, "by the yells and 
 exclamations of three hundred maniacs, who mingled the 
 clanking of their chains with the uproar of their voices." 
 22 321 
 
322 APPENDIX I 
 
 This horrible condition of things had existed indefinitely 
 without a recorded protest from political officials, church 
 authorities, or friendly philanthropists. Public opinion had 
 come to regard such conditions as inevitable, and yet we aU 
 know to-day that the shocking features of that gloomy Paris 
 prison asylum were due entirely to ignorance, and "man's 
 inhumanity to man." Pinel alone held such an opinion at 
 that time, and when he requested permission of the govern- 
 ment to do away with "the chains, iron cages and brutal 
 keepers" he was generally regarded as a reckless visionary, 
 almost an insane man himself. Nevertheless, he removed 
 the chains from some fifty men at once, and the others sub- 
 sequently, without a resulting accident or untoward event. 
 Owing, no doubt, in part to unsettled political conditions 
 in France at that time, this epoch-marking, dramatic inci- 
 dent in the world's progress of humanity was not widely 
 known or duly appreciated until after many years had 
 elapsed. Meantime an English Quaker, William Tuke, 
 becoming sorely distressed with the depleting and repressive 
 methods to which the insane in the government asylums of 
 Great Britain were subjected, founded at York, England, 
 and at his own expense, a hospital for the insane where 
 lunatics would be treated as sick people, and where gentle- 
 ness and patience would, under all conditions, be exercised 
 towards them. 
 
 This humane innovation in lunatic asylum practice 
 attracted considerable attention in England, and, although 
 his "Retreat" was conducted without ostentation, but in 
 the simple, quiet methods which characterized Quakerism, 
 it aroused intense hostility, and its methods were denoimced 
 and vilified, especially by those interested in the manage- 
 ment of English asylums in which insane inmates continued 
 to be treated according to the rigorous code of the conserv- 
 
APPENDIX I 323 
 
 ative British authorities. Chains, straps, strait-jackets, 
 threats, force, coercion, held sway in practically all public 
 asylums, while the York Retreat continued its gentle and 
 most successful Non- Restraint ministrations to the insane. 
 No doubt theories and methods in many English asylums 
 were in time somewhat modified by the influence of the 
 York Retreat, but nowhere else were the efficient, advanced, 
 Quaker principles adopted as the prevailing moral tone and 
 force of an English institution prior to 1838, when at the 
 Lincoln Asylum, Dr. Gardiner Hill, seconded by Dr. Charles- 
 worth, endeavored to absolutely abolish mechanical re- 
 straint. But their convictions were regarded as too radical 
 by the authorities above them, and, as a consequence, they 
 lost their situations as asylum ofl&cers. Yet the time for 
 a revolution in lunatic hospital management was ripe and 
 the requisite man, with masterful endowments, was at hand. 
 In the following year, 1839, Dr. John ConoUy, without 
 previous experience in such work, assumed control of the 
 lunatic asylum at Hanwell, containing over eight hundred 
 patients. For some years previously this asylum had been 
 managed upon lines which were conspicuously mild for 
 those days. In fact, "it was deservedly considered one of 
 the best managed asylmns in England," and yet Dr. Conolly 
 found there forty patients subjected to mechanical restraint, 
 and, designed for such uses, about six hundred instruments, 
 of one kind and another, half being leg locks and handcuffs, 
 with forty coercion chairs. All these he collected in one 
 room which was called the museum, and from that time no 
 patient in Hanwell was subjected to mechanical restraint. 
 In 1844 Dr. Conolly wrote as follows: "After five years' 
 experience I have no hesitation in recording my opinion 
 that with a well constituted governing body, animated by 
 philanthropy, directed by intelligence and acting by means 
 
324 APPENDIX I 
 
 of proper ofl&cers, there is no asylum in the world in which 
 all mechanical restraint may not be abolished, not only with 
 safety, but with incalculable advantage." Dr. Conolly 
 abolished mechanical restraint, not simply because it was 
 an inheritance from the prison regime to which the insane 
 were formerly subjected, but more especially because it was 
 the material embodiment of all prison policy — coercion. 
 As an English authority has stated it, "what he sought was 
 not only to abolish the tangible instruments of restraint, 
 but to substitute the power of a superior mind, guided by 
 unvarying kindness. He showed by reasoning, he proved 
 by trial, and he enforced by all the high courage of his im- 
 varying patience and his tender heart, the great principle 
 that the insane are best governed by a law of kindness and 
 that all coercion applied to them is not only unnecessary, 
 but hurtful. The credit of first suggesting Non-Restraint 
 does not belong to Conolly, but it has been well said the 
 credit of originality is often due, not so much to the man 
 who first suggests a thing as to him who suggests it in such 
 a manner as to display its value; or, not so much to him 
 who sets an example worthy of imitation as to him whose 
 example compels imitation by its worth. What Conolly 
 did was not merely to abolish restraint and torture within 
 the sphere of his personal control, but to render their con- 
 tinuance impossible within the limits of civilization. Under 
 the influence of his example the fetters fell from the limbs 
 of the lunatic in all English asylums. By example and 
 precept, by tongue and pen, he labored without ceasing, 
 in defence of the great principles involved, and he had the 
 satisfaction of ultimately seeing the practice founded upon 
 them, more or less closely copied in every asylum in England, 
 and in many others located in various parts of Europe. He 
 found the lunatic an object of dread and suspicious horror; 
 
APPENDIX I 325 
 
 he left him an object of commiseration and kindness. He 
 found insanity regarded as a disease of the mind, he left it 
 recognized as a disease of the body. He found a madhouse 
 a prison, and a place of torture without mercy; he left it a 
 hospital for many and an asylum in fact, as well as in name, 
 for all inmates." 
 
 This great work, immeasurable in its continued and 
 ultimate effects, was accomplished only as the result of the 
 most painstaking personal application to detail in his own 
 wards and a long continued battle for mercy and justice. 
 Opposition to his theory and practice, some of it honest 
 doubting, but much of it ignorant and bitter prejudice, 
 sprang up and attacked him from all quarters. He met it 
 first from his own country, from English asylum officials, 
 and later from Continental critics. He met all opponents 
 in the true Quaker spirit and his intelligence, his courage, 
 and his sincerity triumphed, as such qualities always will, 
 over error and ignorant prejudices. When his detractors 
 could no longer maintain the commonly believed error that 
 for mechanical restraint some substitute treatment no 
 better, perhaps more reprehensible, was adopted, the asser- 
 tion that Dr. ConoUy's patients were of a different, a milder 
 type than those to be found in other asylums, was advanced. 
 First, in Great Britain it was claimed that the Hanwell 
 patients were a specially effeminate lot. Then when Non- 
 Restraint became the general working policy of English 
 asylums. Continental faultfinders asserted that English 
 people were a more docile race than native Frenchmen or 
 Germans. The same untenable assumption is often heard 
 to this day in extenuation for the continual use of mechanical 
 restraint in certain hospitals. It will be seriously stated 
 that the original character of hospital populations varies 
 from the mild to the aggressive in different sections of a 
 
326 APPENDIX I 
 
 given country, or state, and possibly in contiguous districts, 
 even. At Danvers mechanical restraint was abolished 
 about four years earlier in the women's than in the men's 
 wards, not because women patients are less difi&cult to man- 
 age, but for the reasons that an arbitrary position on this 
 question was not assumed by the superintendent at first, 
 and because the assistant physicians and supervisors in the 
 women's department were especially responsive to sugges- 
 tions in this direction. Eventually, when Non-Restraint 
 had permeated the whole hospital, and when the chief 
 assistant who had been gradually convinced of the feasibility 
 of Non-Restraint against his preconceived but honest con- 
 victions, remarked in answer to some statement of fact, 
 which was made one day, "Oh, it's a comparatively easy 
 matter to avoid mechanical restraint now because we don't 
 have the cases that require it as we formerly did." Then and 
 there, the superintendent took occasion to point out that he 
 had discovered exactly what every man brought into intimate 
 association with Non-Restraint had discovered; namely, 
 that Non-Restraint once established in an institution, con- 
 ditions which formerly suggested its use rarely if ever occur; 
 that, as institution after institution had been placed on the 
 Non-Restraint basis, there had been a continuous, successive 
 re-discovery of the same altered internal conditions, from 
 the days of Conolly to the present time, a period of some 
 fifty years. Such being the fact it must be admitted that 
 this less fractious, less turbulent condition of the insane in 
 the wards of the hospitals was always the outcome of Non- 
 Restraint and never the forerunner. 
 
 This discloses the real solution of the controversy. Where 
 restraint is permitted the general spirit of the management 
 breathes coercion; antagonism, enforced submission. When 
 Non-Restraint is the undeviating rule, tact, persuasion, and 
 
APPENDIX I Z^l 
 
 sympathy soften and mellow every act towards the inmates. 
 The employment of mechanical restraint gives the attendants 
 a wrong sense of their personal power over patients, such a 
 physical advantage that they instinctively inchne to self- 
 assertion; to issue peremptory commands; to use ill-con- 
 sidered, irritating speech; to give curt answers; to make 
 threats; in short, to attempt to intimidate aU but the most 
 quiet patients. " Do thus, or so, or you will be sent to the 
 back wards, you will be secluded, or you will be put in a 
 strait- jacket," is the natural style of speech adopted by 
 attendants when threats and penalties are at their command. 
 Having thus threatened a penalty, the average uninstructed 
 attendant concludes that proper hospital discipline demands 
 its infliction unless the excited, frightened patient meekly 
 capitulates, a result one could hardly expect with a sane 
 person, much less with a deranged, apprehensive lunatic. 
 Even well meaning attendants naturally fall into such errors 
 unless carefully drilled and faithfully watched. Fresh re- 
 cruits are constantly entering the nursing service, and only 
 by individual work with them can the highest ideals of a 
 qualified nurse be instilled into their minds. 
 
 I cannot imderstand how the superintendent of an insane 
 asylum can satisfactorily regulate the use of mechanical 
 restraint if he permits its use. He may reserve to himself 
 the decision as to whether or not it shall be used in each 
 case. But the chances are that he only learns of the final 
 links in the long chain of circumstances which connect the 
 special overt acts of the patient with some affair, trivial it 
 may be, that originated the trouble, and which, by inju- 
 dicious treatment from the attendants, ultimately assumed 
 serious phases. Under such conditions the supervising 
 medical officer, when he authorizes the use of restraining 
 apparatus, simply endorses the judgment of the attendants. 
 
328 APPENDIX I 
 
 Let it be understood that restraint can be used only in ex- 
 ceptional cases, and exceptional cases will be brought to his 
 attention too frequently. 
 
 An eminent English authority has recorded his convic- 
 tions that "there can be no real compromise between the 
 frequent use of mechanical restraint and its entire abolition. 
 One system or the other must predominate in every asylum." 
 In managing the insane the first impulse of the attendant 
 is to assume authority or superiority, and give commands 
 or orders, often with a penalty for disobedience expressed 
 or implied. When the Non- Restraint principle is adopted, 
 attendants are imder no temptation to utter such threats. 
 Thus, they are dispossessed in advance of that which, in the 
 great majority of cases, occasions troublesome friction 
 between themselves and the patient. When driving patients 
 is out of the question, attendants must induce or lead them. 
 They must exercise the art of persuasion, of pleasing, of 
 soothing. Thus fears will be allayed, confidence will be 
 gained, and a relation of helpfulness and friendship be 
 established. In such arts the capacity of the individual 
 nurse varies; but all who approach patients in the right 
 spirit, with the desire to befriend which qualifies attitude, 
 tone of voice, choice of words, expression of the eye and use 
 of the hands, can demonstrate the power of a kindly dis- 
 posed, orderly mind over a disordered intellect. No doubt 
 there are insane patients who would suffer no personal 
 injury, mental or physical, by the application of restraining 
 apparatus. Indeed, I am willing to concede that cases may 
 arise where, could their management be absolutely dis- 
 sociated in its influence from aU others, mechanical restraint 
 might be the most expedient treatment. But, in an institu- 
 tion for the insane, it should be only the last resort, since 
 so much for the general good of the inmates depends upon 
 
APPENDIX I 329 
 
 the nursing morale of the hospital, and the demoralizing 
 ill effects of exceptions to the Non-Restraint rule are so 
 pernicious and wide reaching, that officials or nurses should 
 use mechanical restraint only when satisfied beyond ques- 
 tion that its use or neglect would determine the life or death 
 of the patient. 
 
 Perhaps I speak with assurance, but I worked out this 
 problem at Danvers, where mechanical restraint was abol- 
 ished deliberately. As has been stated, its use was dis- 
 continued in the female wards four or five years before it 
 was whoUy given up in the male department. The annual 
 report of the Danvers Insane Hospital for 1897 contains 
 comments upon this subject. To quote: "I am aware that 
 many persons regard Non-Restraint in lunatic hospitals as a 
 fad of enthusiasts. I often hear this subject discussed in 
 such terms, or dismissed with such indifference, that I infer 
 comparatively few physicians even view this question from 
 our standpoint, and therefore deem it proper to explain why 
 mechanical restraint is abolished at Danvers. Mechanical 
 restraint may be, and certainly is, used occasionally upon 
 patients in general hospitals with no injurious consequences; 
 but conditions in general hospitals and lunatic hospitals 
 are so dissimilar, this fact proves little. I formerly per- 
 mitted the use of restraining apparatus upon patients, en- 
 deavoring to limit its use to rare and exceptional cases. 
 While working under this policy, I not only found it difficult 
 to decide upon cases, and to convince the nurses that restraint 
 was seldom necessary, but every exception in favor of me- 
 chanical restraint seemed to weaken the courage and resolu- 
 tion of the nurses, as well as to diminish my influence and 
 control over them. Then, too, as long as nurses imderstood 
 that straps and jackets could be employed as final measures, 
 they not only relinquished mild efforts too quickly, but were 
 
33© APPENDIX I 
 
 inclined to assume a dictatorial, oppressive manner towards 
 patients upon slight occasions; and this spirit of coercion 
 as evinced by the nurse in his or her attitude towards the 
 patient was, according to my observation, the starting-point 
 of the trouble with refractory patients in the great majority 
 of cases. 
 
 *'Now that mechanical restraint is discarded, the nurses 
 understand that they will be regarded as incompetent unless 
 they can manage the patients in their charge without resort 
 to violent measures, seclusion and restraint. Intelligent 
 nurses do not complain of such restrictions. They appear 
 ambitious to demonstrate that a trained nurse can manage 
 the insane without the fetters and instruments which are 
 relied upon in such cases by the unprofessional keeper. 
 Certainly, the Non-Restraint rule has advanced a kindly, 
 humane spirit in our wards as no other measures could have 
 done. Nurses have no temptation or power to control 
 patients by threats of punishment. Under such conditions, 
 whatever native tact, art, and persuasive powers the nurse 
 may possess are rapidly developed; and, as a result, more 
 sympathetic, friendly relations are early established between 
 nurse and patient, and the common annoyances and irrita- 
 tions formerly experienced by both parties are largely avoided. 
 The beneficial effects thus ensuing, when considered in the 
 aggregate, are of such magnitude, I am resolved that the 
 Non-Restraint rule shall not be broken except as a last 
 resort, as a life-saving measure." 
 
 Since that time, I have been responsible for the custody 
 and treatment of more than six thousand insane persons, 
 not one of whom was restrained with mechanical appliances 
 by my orders or within my knowledge. Because a former 
 superintendent purchased restraining apparatus and ex- 
 perimented with it upon not more than two patients and for 
 
 J 
 
APPENDIX I 331 
 
 a period not exceeding one week, according to reports, the 
 makers of such apparatus continue to circulate a statement 
 that the Dan vers Asylum is one of their patrons, I have 
 seen patients who in their quiet moments requested that, 
 in their recurring attacks of excitement, a strait-jacket 
 might be applied. But, in such cases, I have found there 
 existed a morbid, hysterical element, which, when properly 
 treated, did not develop the frenzied periods the patient had 
 come to expect and dread. I have dealt with trying subjects. 
 A native of West India was once transferred to Danvers 
 from another state institution, because, if the nurse who 
 conducted the transfer knew the facts and stated them, 
 "they could not manage her." "But you have had her in 
 restraint," I said. "Oh, yes," the nurse rephed, "she has 
 been let out of restraint only two hours a day." This 
 patient was destructive, suicidal, and vicious. She re- 
 mained in the Danvers hospital three years and nine months, 
 and was never restrained there by the aid of mechanical 
 appliances. In time, she greatly improved; she took her 
 meals for a considerable period in our congregate dining 
 room, and for a time before leaving was granted limited 
 parole of the grounds. I confess that the case of this patient, 
 who was epileptic, therefore hopeless as far as recovery was 
 concerned, was a severe tax upon the mental and physical 
 conditions of both officers and nurses, greater, perhaps, 
 than the results to this single individual warranted. But 
 the Non-Restraint principle, the animus of an ideal hospital 
 regime was at stake, and its preservation was, in my opinion, 
 worth all it cost. Besides, I regard the self-sacrificing care, 
 the sympathy and the patience exercised by the nurses who 
 accomplished such excellent results in this case, as examples 
 of moral heroism, quite as creditable as many that have 
 received public approbation and medals of honor; and who 
 
332 APPENDIX I 
 
 will put a price on moral heroism? Besides, what official 
 or nurse, imbued with proper pride in his or her profession, 
 is willing to admit that science, training, and skill have no 
 methods with the insane superior to those instinctively sug- 
 gested to the mind of an inexperienced, imeducated layman ? 
 Too much emphasis cannot be put in the assertion that it is 
 less the machinery employed in mechanical restraint than 
 the spirit of coercion, which its employment fosters, that 
 should be abolished from an insane hospital. 
 
 A prominent general practitioner of medicine once re- 
 marked to me, "This talk about Non-Restraint is all rot; we 
 use it at times in our general hospital." This gentleman did 
 not appreciate that the relationship existing between patient 
 and nurse in the general hospital differs widely from that 
 necessarily established in the insane hospital. He did not 
 take into account the fact that, in the general hospital, 
 where every act of the nurse is imder the constant watch 
 of rational observers, the use of restraint is safe-guarded as 
 it cannot be in the insane hospital wards. Nor did he com- 
 prehend this important distinction, that in the general 
 hospital, the chief end to accomplish by restraint is the 
 control of the patient; while in the insane hospital, the 
 prime requisite for the highest success in management is 
 the intelligent self-control of the nurse. 
 
 The argument against mechanical restraint applies in 
 large measure to seclusion of the insane. While seclusion 
 is, in some degree, less demoralizing in its effects or its in- 
 fluence upon the nursing staff of an institution, only in rare 
 and exceptional cases, can its employment be remedial or 
 beneficial. If, as ConoUy said, "Restraint is Neglect," 
 it is doubly true that seclusion is neglect. If used, it should 
 never be prolonged. As a rule, thirty minutes' seclusion 
 is worth, as a corrective measure, more than twenty-four 
 
APPENDIX I 333 
 
 hours of the same treatment. Next to execution, solitary 
 confinement is the severest doom that legal tribunals can 
 pronounce upon hardened criminals. Solitary confinement 
 is universally considered to be painfully trying to a sane 
 mind. How can it be improving to a deranged man, shut 
 away from associations with human beings, incapable of 
 comprehending the logic of his position, consumed by de- 
 lusions or burning with revengeful indignation towards the 
 authors of his imaginary wrongs ? 
 
 Can all the insane be managed without restraint or seclu- 
 sion? Conolly always said " Yes " to that question. When, 
 after consulting with him, superintendents of other institu- 
 tions remarked that they would return home and try Non- 
 Restraint in their asylums, he would coolly reply, *'You 
 will succeed if you are in earnest." Some Continental 
 hospital officials were well-nigh exasperated by Conolly's 
 calm, significant, qualified prediction, "You will succeed if 
 you are in earnest." He had been in earnest. In order to 
 attain his ends at Hanwell, he had devoted a surprising 
 amount of personal attention to each trying, difficult patient, 
 visiting such both by day and night, watching the conduct 
 of attendants towards such cases with unceasing vigilance. 
 Superintendents who hope to accomplish results which 
 made his name famous as a philanthropic physician and skil- 
 ful asylum manager must imitate the example of Conolly to 
 the extent, at least, of giving considerable personal attention 
 to those patients whose conduct taxes the patience and wits 
 of the nurses. The successful management of the turbulent 
 insane without restraining apparatus cannot be accomplished 
 by simply forbidding its employment. 
 
 Rules to meet the exigency of every possible situation 
 cannot be formulated in advance, since the various patients 
 will present such dissimilar, unexpected and individual 
 
334 APPENDIX I 
 
 features of difficulty. Therefore, the hospital rule maker, 
 the commanding official, must intimately share with the 
 nurses the labor and responsibility which trying cases force 
 upon the management. I believe it is an important part 
 of the system of instruction that each instance of friction 
 between nurse and patient receive consideration from the 
 superintendent, and, if thought best, that the involved nurse 
 be commended when she acted judiciously, or be admonished 
 when evidently failing to exercise due art as a trained nurse. 
 When the position of the nurse was faulty, the better way 
 should be pointed out. Such methods teach, and the 
 physician who adopts them is soon able to identify those 
 nurses who have special aptitude for their work, and can 
 select for the difficult posts those best qualified for the 
 trying duties. Nurses who possess self-poise, capacity for 
 tact, and power to rapidly conceive expedients will naturall}^ 
 succeed. I have seen slender, light-weight girls manage 
 the hardest wards quite as well as those of large stature. 
 As an aid towards the development of such nurses at Danvers, 
 each ward is supplied with special report slips to be used 
 according to directions printed on each slip; viz., "When a 
 patient escapes; attempts to escape; receives an injury, 
 accidentally or otherwise ; has to be handled with force, or 
 is secluded; the attendant engaged in the affair, or the one 
 in charge of the patient at the time, must send a written 
 report to the medical officer in charge of the ward in which 
 the patient belongs, who will countersign the same and for- 
 ward it to the office of the superintendent." At a con- 
 venient time, the patients thus reported are visited by the 
 superintendent with the slip in hand, when such personal 
 investigation and instructions as may seem necessary can 
 be given. 
 
 Being in earnest is the solution of the Non-Restraint ques- 
 
APPENDIX I 335 
 
 tion. The ruling authority over and above the nursing staff 
 must be in earnest; and this signifies clear insight as to 
 the evil done and its remedy; certainty as to what can 
 be done with the insane by virtue of patience, sympathy 
 and tact; with determination, watchfulness, faith and en-' 
 thusiasm. 
 
APPENDIX II 
 
 A PAMPHLET issued by the Department of Commerce 
 and Labor, May 22, 1905, under the head "Daily Con- 
 sular Report, No. 2264," contains an article by Hon. Frank 
 H. Mason, then Consul- General at Berlin, Germany. It 
 is entitled "Modern Hospital for the Insane," and reads as 
 follows : 
 
 "Among the valuable lessons which most other nations 
 can advantageously learn from the experience and practice 
 of Germany is the scientific treatment of insanity in its 
 incipient stages as a physical and possibly curable disease. 
 
 "Notwithstanding the rapid and deplorable increase of 
 mental diseases which has followed the stress and strain 
 of modern business and social life, it must be admitted that 
 in the United States, and even in Great Britain, govern- 
 mental beneficence has not progressed beyond the eleemosy- 
 nary function of providing asylums in which the more or less 
 hopelessly incurable victims of insanity, who have become 
 a burden and menace to their friends, can drag out in safety 
 and physical comfort the remnants of their stricken lives. 
 If here and there a private clinic has made a hopeful begin- 
 ning with the pathological treatment of mental diseases, 
 it has been due to individual initiative, and the ministra- 
 tions of such institutions are restricted mainly to patients 
 of the well-to-do class, leaving the great majority of poor 
 unfortunates to drift on to a stage of mental alienation in 
 which they become dangerous to themselves and to those 
 
 336 
 
APPENDIX II ZZ1 
 
 about them, and therefore entitled to the attention and 
 support of the State. Germany has taken a long and im- 
 portant step beyond this, and to give a simple statement of 
 the means employed and some of the results attained is the 
 motive and purpose of the present report. 
 
 "There are in this country twenty- two psychiatrical 
 clinics or hospitals for the treatment of mental diseases. 
 Most advanced and worthy of study are those located at 
 Kiel, Giessen, Strassburg, Berlin, and, latest and most im- 
 portant of all, the new clinic at Munich, which, in all that 
 relates to perfection of equipment and arrangement as well 
 as to the scientific enlightenment of methods employed, 
 stands undoubtedly at the head of all institutions of its class 
 in this or any other country. 
 
 "In his forthcoming treatise on the treatment of mental 
 disease Dr. Stewart Paton of Johns Hopkins University, 
 to whose suggestion and kind assistance this report is prima- 
 rily due, states the essential conditions and requirements of 
 a modern hospital for the insane as follows : 
 
 "i. Ease of access. The institution should be near to 
 or within the limits of a city. 
 
 "2. A limited capacity, in order that every individual 
 may be made the subject of special study. 
 
 "3. Perfect construction, equipment, and organization, 
 in order that a thorough and energetic treatment can be 
 undertaken for all patients for whom there is hope of re- 
 covery. 
 
 "4. A relatively large staff of physicians and nurses. 
 
 "5. Ample provision not only for the teaching of students, 
 but also for the prosecution of post-graduate investigations 
 and research in clinical psychiatry, psychopathology, and in 
 anatomy and pathology of the nervous system. 
 
 "6. The ready admission of patients and their prompt 
 23 
 
338 APPENDIX II 
 
 transference, when necessary, to other more appropriate 
 institutions and provisions for outdoor and voluntary pa- 
 tients.^ 
 
 "The Psychiatrical Clinic at Munich fulfils, to a degree 
 probably not elsewhere attained, all these requirements and 
 conditions. It was built by the city of Munich at a cost of 
 $500,000. It is conveniently located and accessible; it is in 
 close touch with the medical department of a leading uni- 
 versity; and it has for its field of usefulness a city of 580,000 
 peoples ..' It has accommodations for iio bed patients of both 
 sexes, besides a large dispensary on the ground floor for the 
 treatment of voluntary patients who come in at stated periods, 
 but live otherwise at home. Although opened only a few 
 months ago, the clinic will have treated not less than 2,000 
 patients before the close of its first year. 
 
 "The edifice . . . was completed last year, and includes 
 the central or administration building, with two wings, which 
 form the front and sides of an open court or garden. In 
 the central structure are located laboratories for pathologi- 
 cal, chemical, and psychological studies, a fine medical 
 library, rooms for the reception and examination of patients, 
 and the private rooms of the director. The apparatus and 
 facilities for every form of research connected with any 
 question relating to preventing, detecting, and curing in- 
 sanity are as elaborate and perfect as experience and up-to- 
 date science can suggest. 
 
 "Among various special features are bathrooms, arranged 
 with tubs in which the water can be maintained indefinitely 
 at a given temperature, and in which excited patients may 
 be kept without restraint for hours, to splash at will or even 
 
 * For detailed description of a modem Psychopathic Hospital see 
 "Psychiatry" (Chapter VI), by Stewart Paton, M.D., published 1905, by 
 J. B. Lippincott Company. 
 
APPENDIX II 339 
 
 to sleep, using rubber air cushions as pillows — a soothing 
 and highly efficacious form of treatment at certain stages of 
 mental disease. A small iron door in the wall opens into an 
 oven, in which hot towels are always within reach, to be used 
 in rubbing down the patient on leaving the bath. 
 
 "A ward of the ordinary size contains space for from five 
 to ten beds and has among its equipment a small electric 
 cooking stove for heating water or milk, preparing eggs, 
 toast, and other food, a movable bathtub on casters, and 
 electric lights that can be so controlled as to give any desired 
 degree of illumination. 
 
 "The lecture room has accommodations for two hundred 
 and forty students, and is lighted by incandescent electric 
 lamps so placed as to project the light upward against a 
 white ceiling, so as to give a clear, but mild, diffused light, 
 strong enough for every purpose, but without glare. If, 
 during a day lecture the professor wishes to use kinetoscope 
 or magic lantern illustrations he touches a button, and black 
 shades running in grooves at each window, drop and make 
 the interior dark. Another knob is touched and the kineto- 
 scope or lantern picture is thrown upon the screen and the 
 lecture proceeds without a moment's interruption. 
 
 "The hospital is not free. Patients are divided accord- 
 ing to their means into three classes, but the treatment and 
 medical services are precisely the same to all, according to 
 their condition and necessities. Patients of the first, second, 
 and third classes pay respectively $2.38, $1.36, and 71 cents 
 per day, everything included. Absolutely no restraint is 
 used. All the wards are perfectly warmed, ventilated, and 
 lighted; the walls are of bright, cheerful colors and hung 
 with cheap but good pictures that appeal to a correct artistic 
 taste. In the comer of each occupied ward is a seat for a 
 nurse at a table provided with an electric light so arranged 
 
340 APPENDIX II 
 
 that she may read without disturbing the patients. In the 
 wall are three small niches, each covered with a locked iron 
 panel or door, to which the nurse has the key. By unlocking 
 one of these doors electric light is turned on throughout the 
 ward, either suddenly or gradually, as may be desired. 
 Opening the second door calls the director or house physi- 
 cian, and the third is a time recorder, by opening which at 
 brief stated intervals the nurse records on a dial in the 
 director's office the fact that he or she has been awake and 
 in constant attendance. 
 
 "The medical staff of the Munich Psychiatrical Clinic 
 includes as director Prof. Dr. Emil Kraepelin, one of the 
 foremost German specialists in mental diseases; First Assist- 
 ant Physician Doctor Gaupp, and Doctor Altzheimer, 
 assistant physician and director of the laboratory. These 
 and two other assistant physicians are paid; the others are 
 young physicians who receive for their services free board 
 and lodging, but no other compensation. The educational 
 advantages offered by the clinic form one of its most valuable 
 assets. These include oral and clinical instruction not only 
 to medical students, but to practicing physicians who wish 
 to become competent practitioners or specialists in mental 
 diseases, and to lawyers who seek to specially qualify them- 
 selves for practice in the large and unfortunately growing 
 class of cases that involve questions of mental responsibility. 
 The clinic also serves as a tribunal of highest authority to de- 
 termine the condition of patients who are involved by charges 
 or litigation which hinge on the fact or degree of mental ab- 
 erration. Such a patient is kept under expert observation 
 and subjected to tests that finally give a definite diagnosis of 
 his condition, which is no longer left to be decided by the 
 academic "opinion of a medical expert, caught by the artful 
 hypothetical questions of a shrewd opposing attorney. 
 
APPENDIX II 341 
 
 "Thus constructed, equipped and administered the 
 modern psychiatrical clinic in Germany meets and fulfils 
 two fundamental needs that exist in greater or less degree 
 in every city or large town in the United States, namely, 
 that of better facilities for the skilful treatment, care, and 
 possible cure of cases of incipient and acute insanity; and, 
 secondly, adequate provision for instruction in treatment 
 and in the investigation of practical problems upon the solu- 
 tion of which must depend the arrest of increasing insanity 
 among the people of the State. Its inestimable service to 
 the community is that it provides for saving an indefinite 
 but considerable percentage of the victims of incipient 
 mental disease, and restores them to lives of usefulness, 
 instead of leaving them to degenerate into a menace to 
 society and a burden to the State. It provides the most 
 consummate examination and treatment at a stage of the 
 disease when there is the most chance of averting or arrest- 
 ing an attack of real insanity. It detects and takes timely 
 charge of the smaller but important class of patients who, 
 without the knowledge of their friends, are on the border 
 line of insanity, and liable at any time to become suddenly 
 dangerous to themselves or others. 
 
 "Its beneficent fimction is the prompt application of every 
 known resource of detection and prevention to the whole 
 insidious group of mental diseases which have become a 
 penalty of the intense, over-wrought life of modern society, 
 or are induced by poverty, self-indulgence, or inherited 
 tendencies. Public benevolence and private philanthropy 
 can fulfil no higher or more valuable purpose than to bring 
 the ultimate resources of science to the support of a cause 
 like this. 
 
 "Frank H. Mason, Consul-General." 
 Berlin, Germany, April 8, 1905. 
 
APPENDIX III 
 
 In a report issued July, 1906, by the Department of 
 Commerce and Labor, under the heading: "Insane and 
 Feeble-minded in Hospitals and Institutions 1904," the 
 following illuminating facts appear : 
 
 "On June i, 1890, there were in the United States 74,028 
 insane patients distributed among 162 hospitals, of which 
 119 were public (maintained, as shown elsewhere in the 
 report, at an annual expense of $10,595,567), and 43 private 
 institutions. On December 31, 1903 (less than fourteen 
 years later) there were in the United States 150,151 insane 
 patients distributed among 328 hospitals, of which 226 were 
 public (maintained, as shown elsewhere in the report, at an 
 annual expense of $21,327,228.41) and 102 private institu- 
 tions." This "increase of more than 100 per cent in the 
 number of insane in hospitals, being accompanied by a 
 corresponding increase in the number of institutions in- 
 volved. . . . According to the best information available 
 only 20 of the present state hospitals for the insane in the 
 United States were established prior to 1850. ... To this 
 number 17 hospitals were added in the decade 1850 to 1859; 
 18, in the decade i860 to 1869; 26, in the decade 1870 to 
 1879; and 33, in the decade 1880 to 1889. During the last 
 decade the growth of private asylums for the insane has also 
 been very marked. The number given in this report is 
 more than double that returned in 1890. . . . That this 
 movement toward hospitals for the insane has probably not 
 reached its height may be inferred from the fact that com- 
 
 342 
 
APPENDIX III 343 
 
 mitments were relatively more frequent in the years com- 
 prised in the second half of the period 1890 to 1903 than in 
 those included in the first half." The government compiler 
 then admits that the ratio of actual increase for the whole 
 country is not in reality as much as 100 per cent — but 
 notice what follows: "While it is probable that relatively a 
 much smaller number of insane escape institutional restraint 
 than some twenty years ago — otherwise the accumulation 
 in hospitals would be inexplicable — it is indisputable that 
 even at the present time there are thousands who, although 
 recognizable as insane, have not been placed in the care 
 of hospitals or other institutions for that class. To offer 
 any estimate of the probable number of insane that would 
 have been disclosed by an investigation which included 
 those not in institutions in addition to those in hospitals on 
 December 31, 1903, would be a mere guess. But it is cer- 
 tainly within the truth to say that there were as many on 
 that date as were found outside of hospitals in 1890, or some 
 30,000. In 1903 the number of insane in hospitals per 
 100,000 of population exceeded by 16.2 the ratio of all in- 
 sane to population in 1890. ... At the end of the decade 
 1880 to 1890, the number of insane in hospitals had increased 
 from 40,942 to 74,028 or 33,086, and the number of insane 
 per 100,000 of population had risen from 81.6 to 118.2, or 
 36.6. In 1903, thirteen years later, the number of insane 
 in hospitals had further increased by 76,123 patients, or 
 more than the number found in 1890, and the number per 
 100,000 of population had increased by 68. These figures 
 are, of course, for the most part merely illustrative of the 
 larger utilization of hospitals for the treatment of the insane, 
 and not direct proof of a corresponding increase of insanity. 
 ... If the enumeration of 1903 had been made to include 
 the insane outside of the hospital population it is evident 
 
344 APPENDIX III 
 
 that larger ratios than those for 1890 would probably have 
 been shown for each state and territory. But even without 
 the inclusion of this class, a comparison of the ratio of insane 
 in hospitals in 1903 with the ratio of total insane counted in 
 1890 shows that relatively the insane in the United States 
 have increased faster than the population. This conclusion 
 is further substantiated by comparing the returns for 1903 
 with those for 1880. The completeness of the census of 
 1880 has not been questioned, so far as the enumeration of 
 the institutional population is concerned, and it was far 
 more thorough than that of 1890 in regard to the insane 
 outside of institutions, owing to the active participation of 
 physicians in making returns of this class. A comparison 
 of the ratios of insane in hospitals on December 31, 1903, 
 with the ratios of total insane both in and outside of hospitals 
 in 1880, shows that there was an increase in the ratio not only 
 for the United States, but for 31 out of the 47 states and 
 territories included in the census of 1880; and that the in- 
 crease in ratios was much larger in most of these 31 states 
 than in the country as a whole. . . . From whatever point 
 the matter is viewed the census returns since 1880 permit 
 but one conclusion, namely that the rate of increase is greater 
 for the insane in the United States than it is for the general 
 population. It is impossible, however, to determine the 
 difference between these rates until provision is made for 
 an enumeration of the insane, no matter whether found in 
 or outside of institutions. Although the hospital returns 
 tell a one-sided story, they invariably point to an increase 
 in the prevalence of insanity. . . . Although it seems im- 
 possible to determine definitely whether insanity is increas- 
 ing or not from the percentage of admissions and discharges, 
 deaths and transfers for a single year, the niunerical excess 
 of admissions over discharges, deaths and transfers during 
 
APPENDIX III 345 
 
 1904, when compared with the increase in number of insane 
 in hospitals during the past thirteen years, indicates that the 
 accumulation of insane in hospitals is probably progressing, 
 at least as rapidly as ever before." 
 
APPENDIX IV 
 
 Pavilion F, A Department for Mental Diseases of 
 THE Albany Hospital. Delivered before the 
 Thirty-fourth National Conference of Charities 
 AND Correction, at Minneapolis, Minn., June i8, 
 1907. 
 
 BY J. MONTGOMERY MOSHER, M.D. 
 
 Attending Specialist in Mental Diseases, Albany Hospital, Albany, N.Y. 
 [Reprinted from the Proceedings.] 
 
 On the sixth of December, 1899, seven physicians of 
 Albany, New York, petitioned the board of supervisors of 
 the county to erect a "building for the temporary care 
 of insane patients," directing attention to the fact that "the 
 process of commitment to a hospital for the insane is com- 
 plicated and often requires several days, during which time 
 the patient may be protected by his friends as best they can, 
 or, in event of active manifestations of insanity, endanger- 
 ing himself or others, be placed in the jail." The petition 
 was favorably considered and a law was enacted appropriat- 
 ing eighteen thousand dollars "for the construction and 
 furnishing of a reception pavilion in connection with the 
 Albany Hospital, for the detention and care of persons 
 afflicted with nervous and mental disorders." The Albany 
 Hospital is a private corporation, under the administration 
 of a board of governors, elected annually by subscribers, 
 built on land granted by the city, and providing wards for 
 the care of both private and public patients. The erection 
 
 346 
 
APPENDIX IV 347 
 
 of the so-called "Reception Pavilion" was contingent upon 
 "a contract between the Albany Hospital and the County 
 of Albany, that the said hospital will maintain and manage 
 the said pavilion, and will agree to receive and accept for 
 detention or treatment in said pavilion, all public patients 
 from this county or any of the cities or towns thereof, upon 
 the same terms as public patients are received and cared for 
 from the various towns of this county, at such hospital." 
 
 The conditions leading to this action were particularly 
 painful. The insane of the State of New York are main- 
 tained by a State law. The State is divided into hospital 
 districts, Albany being in the district of the Hudson River 
 State Hospital at Poughkeepsie, distant seventy-five miles. 
 There was no opportunity for the treatment of a case of in- 
 sanity other than by a commitment to this hospital. The 
 commitment is a complicated legal process, consisting of a 
 petition by any person with whom the patient may reside, 
 by the nearest available relative or by a proper public official, 
 annexed to the certificate by two qualified physicians, of an 
 examination to have been made jointly within ten days 
 before the granting of an order, and to contain a statement 
 of "the facts and circumstances upon which the judgment 
 of the physicians is based, and show that the condition of 
 the person is such as to require care and treatment in an 
 institution for the care, custody and treatment of the in- 
 sane." The petition and certificate, properly verified, con- 
 stitute the application, notice of which "shall be served 
 personally, at least one day before making such applica- 
 tion, upon the person alleged to be insane." If the judge 
 to whom such application is made is "satisfied that the 
 alleged insane person is insane," he may "issue an order 
 for the commitment of such person," or he may, "in his 
 discretion, require other proofs." 
 
348 APPENDIX IV 
 
 A later amendment to this law provides for "emergency 
 cases," who need "immediate care and treatment," or who 
 are "dangerously insane," and may be received in an insti- 
 tution upon the certificate of lunacy and petition for five 
 days pending the judicial order. 
 
 In brief, a patient who is suffering from disease of the 
 mind, the most threatening calamity of life, must be so far 
 advanced in the disease and so disordered in action or in 
 speech as to satisfy a lay tribunal of the necessity or justi- 
 fication of the forcible deprivation of his liberty, must be told 
 that he is "insane," must be "adjudged insane," and "com- 
 mitted" by a court to an institution for the insane, before 
 he can receive the treatment best adapted to the restoration 
 of his health. 
 
 In so far as the "Insanity Law" of New York relates to 
 the care, custody or protection of the insane, it is definite 
 and effective ; but as an obstacle to the prompt early 
 treatment of mental disease, it must be regarded as a 
 medical barbarism. This discrimination against the mental 
 patient places him in a different Hght than the sufferer from 
 a physical ailment, although the pathological processes are 
 more delicate and intricate and demand the most painstaking 
 consideration. It is impossible to conceive of a patient with 
 pneumonia or a broken leg applying to a court of law for 
 medical or surgical care, but such is the necessity of a mental 
 case. 
 
 The man who has overtaxed his nervous system suffers 
 first from insomnia. Insomnia is a manifestation of irri- 
 tability, which is the earliest expression of exhaustion. It 
 indicates that the excessive momentum of the work of the 
 day is carried into the night, and that normal relaxation and 
 recuperation do not follow. The train of thought is beyond 
 voluntary control, and this automatic mental activity soon con- 
 
APPENDIX IV 349 
 
 tinues throughout the day and night. The patient states that 
 his thoughts are "running away with him." He is also con- 
 scious of inabiUty to concentrate his attention, which, as a 
 layman, he usually describes as loss of memory. This 
 mental unrest early becomes a source of anxiety, and the 
 attempt is unfortunately made to obtain relief by sedatives; 
 the overshadowing symptom of irritabihty is treated and 
 the underlying pathological state of exhaustion ignored. 
 The result is disaster. The use of debihtating drugs upon 
 an already depleted organism intensifies the condition, 
 interferes with function, obstructs the secretions, prevents 
 metabolism, and the products of decomposition accumulate 
 as poisons, to add their damaging effects. Strange thoughts 
 and fancies fill the mind of the patient, of the extraordinary 
 character of which he is partially or at times fully con- 
 scious, and of which he is willing to accept an explanation. 
 This is the point of progress of the ailment which has been 
 described as the ** borderland of insanity." It is the true 
 psychological moment at which a misstep may precipitate 
 disaster, and proper treatment may avert a long and dan- 
 gerous illness. The family look upon the patient with 
 apprehension and with awe. The actions, manner and 
 characteristics of one dearly beloved are changing and his 
 companions are not educated to the interpretation or man- 
 agement of the altered personality. Evasion, indirection, 
 deception, falsehood, contradiction, chiding and even vio- 
 lence, bewilder the patient, intensify his irritabihty and con- 
 firm his doubts, when the simple truth, a frank revelation 
 to him of the morbid origin of his fancies — the only source 
 of mental rehef — is almost never spoken. They appreciate 
 the mental disorder, its threatening aspect and possibilities, 
 but stand in awe of the formidable judicial declaration of 
 insanity. The opprobrium attached to a confession of 
 
350 APPENDIX IV 
 
 mental obliquity weighs more heavily than the desire for 
 relief. Delay and mismanagement follow imtil the patient, 
 dehrious and desperate, has committed some oflfence against 
 the law, or has become flagrantly incompetent, when, often 
 too late, he is placed in the hands of physicians who under- 
 stand his condition and are trained in the use of therapeutic 
 measures for reUef. 
 
 The shock of it all is frightful. In this age of ideals and 
 stress, many who strive for the highest rewards of cultivation 
 of the nervous system, the attainment of a lofty ambition, 
 suffer moments of fatigue and depression, the penalty of 
 overwork. The impending calamity, in which individuaUty 
 is felt to be sHpping away and merging into incompetency 
 and lunacy, is apprehended and feared. Relief is sought, 
 too often in vain, for men and measures are not provided. 
 Here lies the opportunity of individual prophylaxis, and here, 
 between the home and the asylum, the general hospital 
 may ihtervene. 
 
 Fortunately for the proposed project, conditions at the 
 Albany hospital were peculiarly favorable. A new institu- 
 tion had been constructed, consisting of a series of buildings 
 on either side of a central corridor or axis, providing wards 
 for pubHc and private patients, an operating theater, 
 nurses' house and administration. The paviHon for mental 
 cases was placed in the rear of the nurses' house, distant 
 from the general wards, and from the pubUcity of the 
 central corridor. 
 
 The floor plan was designed with an eye to the needs of 
 aU classes of patients. It was anticipated that both tur- 
 bulent and quiet cases would be received, and that the 
 comfort of each must be promoted. There were two depart- 
 ments, separated by a heavy partition wall and double doors, 
 in the rear of which were two guarded rooms, where noise 
 
APPENDIX IV 351 
 
 might be confined. At the end of the first year it was found 
 that this provision was inadequate and the rear section was 
 enlarged to provide ten rooms, with a day room or sitting 
 room on each floor. Six of these rooms were approached by 
 a communicating cross hall, so that the disturbed patients 
 are removed from the general ward. This plan serves the 
 double purpose of adequate provision for the excited patient 
 and protection for others. Shouting, rattling of doors and 
 windows, striking the walls, are manifestations of mental 
 disorder just as elevation of temperature is a symptom of 
 fever, and mental disorder, as fever, is often self-limiting. 
 The patient should be placed under proper conditions and 
 carried inteUigently through the attack. Excretion of waste 
 products is to be promoted, the state of nutrition improved, 
 and normal functional activity of the organism restored. 
 These are medical problems of transcendent importance 
 and direct the attention and the therapeutic efforts to the 
 patient himself. Methods sought to be justified under 
 the vicious plea of expediency are anticipated, and forcible 
 suppression of symptoms is avoided unless for his good. 
 Harmful sedatives and other coercive measures for pre- 
 venting disturbance are too often used, to the detriment of 
 the patient and for the benefit of others. 
 
 The first consideration is consequently architectural, and 
 Pavilion F has been so constructed as to afford means of 
 isolation and, at the same time, proper personal attendance. 
 Much of its best work has been accomplished in the treat- 
 ment of acute cases of a very active character; and such 
 cases, when properly managed, afford the quickest and most 
 satisfactory recoveries, and have a legitimate claim upon 
 the general hospital. 
 
 The administration of Pavilion F is based upon that of 
 the other departments, except that the attending physician 
 
352 APPENDIX IV 
 
 has continuous service and is held to strict accountability 
 to the governors of the hospital. He visits at least once a 
 day, and exercises supervision and medical power. For a 
 few months after its opening the pavilion received patients 
 in the care of other physicians, but this was soon found to 
 threaten disturbance, discord, and even danger, from both 
 medical and legal points of view, and concentration of re- 
 sponsibility was inevitable. The physicians of the com- 
 munity have generally co-operated with the hospital, and 
 have assisted in the management of critical cases, realizing 
 the greater difficulties experienced before the creation of 
 this department, and the deHcate questions involved. 
 
 The attending physician is assisted by two internes on 
 the medical service, whose duties are the taking of histories 
 and examination of the patients under his direction. The 
 greatest instrument for good, however, is the nursing care. 
 
 Some ninety nurses are under training in the hospital. 
 The course is of three years and includes every department. 
 In PaviHon F at least ten weeks are required, on day and 
 night duty on the men's and women's wards. The pupil 
 nurses are directed and supervised by the head nurse, who 
 is a woman of experience in mental work, co-operates with 
 the training school, is a part of it, and is an assistant to the 
 superintendent of nurses. 
 
 The standard of nursing is that established by the hospi- 
 tal, and this in turn reflects the requirements of the most 
 exacting patronage of the community. The service given 
 by the nurses in the mental department has proved the 
 most substantial factor in establishing its high ideals. Nor 
 is the pavilion under an excess of obligation, as educational 
 elements are supplied which count largely in the equipment 
 of the nurse for the work in general medicine and surgery. 
 Clinical instruction is also given to the students of the 
 
APPENDIX IV 353 
 
 Albany Medical College, who attend a weekly bedside 
 course during the college year. 
 
 At the end of five years this experiment in the therapeutics 
 of mental medicine is thought worthy of a report to the 
 National Conference of Charities and Correction. Facts 
 and experience have accumulated to justify a statement as 
 to whether an actual advance has been made in the most 
 diflficult and least understood department of practice; or 
 whether, as is unfortunately too often the case in medicine, 
 as well as in dress, a fashion has been introduced to 
 indulge a passing fancy. 
 
 From February i8, 1902, the day of the first admission, 
 to February 28, 1907, one thousand and thirty-one patients 
 have entered this building. Of these five hundred and 
 ninety-six have returned to their homes recovered or im- 
 proved, three hundred and sixteen have remained stationary, 
 and eighty-six have died. Two hundred and forty-five have 
 been transferred to institutions for the insane; of these one 
 hundred and twenty-six were sent to Pavilion F for deten- 
 tion during the legal proceedings, and one hundred and 
 eighteen were committed after a period of observation. It 
 thus appears that nine hundred and five patients have been 
 under treatment without legal process, one hundred and 
 eighteen of whom it became necessary to commit later to 
 institutions for the insane. 
 
 If this special provision for the treatment of the mentally 
 deranged had not been made in the Albany Hospital, then 
 these nine hundred and five patients would either have 
 had to be improperly treated at home, or would have been 
 committed after a probably harmful development of the 
 disease. It is impossible to judge how many have been 
 saved from an unnecessary commitment. 
 
 A glance at the table shows that every form of mental 
 24 
 
354 APPENDIX IV 
 
 alienation or defect has been represented. With reference 
 to personal mental responsibility patients may be divided 
 into three groups; first, those who know what they are 
 doing, and enter the hospital for treatment; second, those 
 who do not know what they are doing, and are brought to 
 the hospital; third, those who know what they are doing, 
 and decline to enter or remain in an institution. 
 
 In the first group are cases of neurasthenia, hysteria, 
 hypochondria, melancholia, mania, light grades of dementia, 
 some forms of drug addiction and alcoholism, and physical 
 diseases with incidental mental symptoms. These patients 
 are capable of making their wants known, of protecting 
 themselves against injustice or neglect, and of enforcing any 
 obligation of care or treatment assumed by the physician or 
 hospital. 
 
 The second group includes, primarily, cases of delirium 
 or stupor, and secondly, cases of feeble-mindedness, either 
 native, as in idiocy or imbecility, or acquired, as in advanced 
 dementia, the late stages of paresis, and old age. Delirium 
 and stupor are mental states due to acute and profound 
 changes in physical conditions, the pathological substratum 
 of which is exhaustion and toxemia. The cases are critical 
 and often fatal. They can rarely be treated at home, should 
 not be committed to an institution for the insane, and require 
 prompt and energetic measures, such as a general hospital 
 may give. The question of improper motive or unauthorized 
 interference is no more pertinent than when a patient uncon- 
 scious from the uremia of Bright's disease is plunged un- 
 ceremoniously into a bath. The mental enfeeblement of 
 advanced dementia, paresis, and old age, gives opportunity 
 to designing persons, and care should be exercised by 
 the custodians of these helpless patients to protect them 
 from injustice. When property interests are involved it 
 
APPENDIX IV 355 
 
 is wise that legal cognizance be taken of their incom- 
 petency. 
 
 In the third group are cases of early paresis and of delu- 
 sional insanity. The experience of Pavilion F has shown 
 that the confines of a small building are too limited for the 
 characteristic restlessness and magniloquence of paresis. 
 Delusional insanity is always a most troublesome condition. 
 Any form of opposition, detention, or restriction is resented, 
 and indeed the determination of the delusion may be diffi- 
 cult, particularly when marital infideHty or domestic infelicity 
 is the basis of the disturbance. Husbands with quarrelsome 
 wives, wives with intemperate husbands, children with 
 degenerate parents, parents with disobedient children, occa- 
 sionally look to the hospital for rehef. Inasmuch as the 
 management of such patients involves the question of custody 
 rather than treatment, and restrictive measures are appro- 
 priately decided by the courts, the hospital refrains from 
 engaging in these disputes. 
 
 It should not be forgotten that insanity is disease, and that 
 the determination by a court of the treatment of disease is 
 illogical. A few patients in incipient stages, less than 
 twenty-five per cent, and probably not more than ten per 
 cent, fail to recognize the morbid origin of their abnormal 
 thought and action, and decline the remedy. They become 
 a menace to themselves or others, and are subject to legal 
 measures because they are unsafe, violate law and order, and 
 render themselves Kable to restraint. They constitute one 
 class for whom supervision is necessary. Another group of 
 patients are those who do not recover and need the good 
 offices of the court, not however for the safety of their neigh- 
 bors, but because they are left, after the active disease has 
 subsided, with a mental scar, a defect in intelhgence, and 
 are incompetent to carry on independently the duties of life. 
 
356 APPENDIX IV 
 
 to mingle in society, or to support or protect themselves in 
 the struggle for existence. They are the demented, or ment- 
 ally enfeebled, comprising the bulk of the State hospital 
 population, a rapidly increasing number who are a helpless 
 burden. It is right that provision for them be under the 
 jurisdiction of the State, in the interest of both the State and 
 its beneficiaries. 
 
 There is thus a clearly defined line between patients need- 
 ing treatment and those subject to custodial care. For the 
 former the intervention of the court is unnecessary except in 
 rare cases, and then when an infraction has occurred or is 
 threatened; for the latter every technical requirement 
 should be observed. It is not intended to urge that the laws 
 should be ignored, or that an individual who resists treat- 
 ment should be made forcibly to accept it, without opportu- 
 nity for adjudication; but it is most imperative that patients 
 who are wilhng or anxious to receive medical treatment 
 should have it, and should have free access to institutions 
 conducted upon such a basis that they may voluntarily and 
 with confidence seek admission. The fault is not with the 
 statute, but with conditions which make harmful its 
 appHcation. 
 
 In the enlistment of the general hospital in this service 
 certain requirements are to be observed. The institution 
 should be of high standing and command the respect of the 
 community. The department for mental diseases should be 
 estabhshed upon the standard of excellence prevaiHng 
 throughout. It should be somewhat removed from the 
 other wards that the distressing incidents of acute bodily 
 sickness, particularly the critical events of surgical service, 
 should not create or intensify apprehension and suspicion. 
 The wards differ in design from general hospital wards, and '• 
 should be more attractively equipped. Tastefully furnished 
 
APPENDIX IV 
 
 357 
 
 sitting rooms, with books, games and magazines for diver- 
 sion, may be provided. The custodial feature should be 
 reduced to a minimum, and intelligent visitation should be 
 encouraged that the patient may always have the assur- 
 ance that an appeal to his friends may be made. 
 
 It is of first importance that the attitude of oflficers and 
 nurses should be one of service upon the patient, and never 
 one of dictation or assumption of superiority or command. 
 When the doors swing easily both ways there need be little 
 anxiety. Finally, in critical cases, there is no substitute for 
 the unremitting personal attendance of skilful and sympa- 
 thetic nurses. 
 
 The function of a general hospital is the treatment of 
 acute disease. The question is now presented whether 
 there should be any limitation of this duty; that is, whether 
 certain forms of disease should be denied admission. For 
 large cities with numerous hospitals it may be expedient to 
 specialize, and to designate different acute diseases to dif- 
 ferent hospitals. In smaller cities, of population varying 
 from fifty thousand to two hundred thousand, the two or 
 three good hospitals represent the purpose of the members 
 of the community to secure for themselves proper treatment 
 when sick or injured. The contribution of each individual, 
 whether through private or public channels, is his measure 
 of protection for himself or for some one near and dear. 
 If the calamity which sends him to this institution is mental 
 in character, he might demand, and he would be justified 
 in demanding, that he be not spumed, when his neighbor 
 with a surgical lesion or an infectious disease has at his dis- 
 posal every means known to science for the restoration of 
 his health. 
 
 It is not to be expected that the work of a hospital for the 
 insane can be done in a general hospital. Nor can the 
 
358 
 
 APPENDIX IV 
 
 work of a general hospital be done in a hospital for the in- 
 sane. But there are many forms of mental disorder having 
 the character of an acute illness, and there are many forms 
 of actue physical disease with disturbance of mental function, 
 for which the general hospital should provide. Otherwise, 
 it is not a general hospital. 
 
 Table — Showing the Forms of Disease and the Results op 
 
 Treatment from the Opening of Pavilion F, February 
 
 18, 1902, TO February 28, 1907 
 
 Fonn of Disease 
 
 Recov- 
 ered 
 
 Im- 
 proved 
 
 Unim- 
 proved 
 
 Died 
 
 Remain- 
 ing 
 
 Total 
 
 "3 
 ,0 
 
 
 M 
 
 W 
 
 M 
 
 W 
 
 M 
 
 W 
 
 M 
 
 W 
 
 M 
 
 w 
 
 M 
 
 W 
 
 H 
 
 
 20 
 
 5 
 
 17 
 
 3 
 
 I 
 
 109 
 19 
 
 S 
 
 I 
 
 20 
 
 2 
 
 17 
 6 
 
 2 
 
 "& 
 5 
 3 
 2 
 
 7 
 4 
 18 
 II 
 
 7 
 
 3 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 11 
 
 12 
 
 15 
 
 60 
 
 S 
 
 7 
 
 6 
 49 
 13 
 
 2 
 10 
 
 3 
 
 "16 
 
 7 
 S 
 3 
 4 
 
 I 
 
 2 
 
 20 
 
 12 
 
 II 
 
 5 
 
 16 
 
 20 
 
 39 
 
 8 
 
 2 
 
 6 
 
 S 
 2 
 44 
 IS 
 4 
 4 
 18 
 
 40 
 
 7 
 
 2 
 3 
 
 7 
 3 
 
 I 
 
 3 
 12 
 
 13 
 
 I 
 
 7 
 2 
 
 "s 
 
 2 
 2 
 
 I 
 I 
 2 
 
 2 
 4 
 
 I 
 
 1 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 3 
 2 
 
 36 
 
 15 
 
 57 
 
 27 
 
 19 
 
 8 
 
 17 
 
 26 
 
 62 
 
 20 
 
 139 
 
 89 
 
 II 
 
 1 
 
 3 
 
 I 
 
 14 
 
 22 
 
 2 
 
 I 
 
 40 
 
 12 
 
 114 
 
 35 
 
 8 
 
 14 
 
 22 
 
 '67 
 16 
 15 
 10 
 12 
 2 
 
 2 
 
 2 
 
 12 
 
 9 
 
 2 
 
 I 
 I 
 
 7 
 
 3 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 I 
 
 2 
 
 1 
 
 5 
 417 
 
 76 
 27 
 
 Confusional insanity . . 
 
 
 62 
 
 Primary dementia 
 
 Recurrent insanity 
 
 Chronic delusional insanity . 
 
 General paralysis 
 
 Terminal dementia 
 
 Imbecility and Idiocy 
 
 Acute alcoholic delirium. . . 
 
 27 
 22 
 
 39 
 
 26 
 129 
 
 36 
 154 
 
 99 
 
 
 Ptomaine poisoning 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 3 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 8 
 17 
 
 I 
 S 
 8 
 
 I 
 
 "6 
 2 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 7 
 
 3 
 
 
 
 Tfi 
 
 
 3 
 
 I 
 I 
 
 I 
 I 
 
 34 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 
 
 3 
 
 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Hypochondriasis 
 
 
 S 
 2 
 7 
 2 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 2 
 
 
 8 
 
 2 
 14 
 
 2 
 
 2 
 
 8 
 
 Organic brain disease 
 
 
 
 
 
 2 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 
 
 
 21 
 2 
 
 
 
 
 
 2 
 
 
 
 
 2 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 I 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 I 
 3 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 2 
 
 I 
 
 7 
 
 614 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 I 
 1 
 
 I 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 2 
 
 
 3 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 1 
 .2 
 
 2 
 
 Pernicious anemia 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 2 
 
 I 
 
 Fracture of skull . . _. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 2 
 
 I 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Totals 
 
 i8s 
 
 69 
 
 197 
 
 145 
 
 160 
 
 156 
 
 S3 
 
 33 
 
 12 
 
 9 
 
 
 
 
APPENDIX V 
 
 Verbatim quotation from the 14th Annual Report (October i, 
 1 90 1 — September 30, 1902) State Commission in 
 Lunacy of the State of Neiv York, including a report on 
 abuses in private, run-for-gain sanatoriums, written by 
 M. Allen Starr, M.D. — Professor of Nervous and 
 Mental Diseases at Columbia University. 
 
 The Private Licenses Retreat System 
 
 The number of private licensed institutions for the in- 
 sane is now twenty-three. No new licenses have been 
 granted during the year. It is not desirable that the num- 
 ber should be increased; on the contrary, a decrease would 
 be welcomed. 
 
 The Commission feels that there should be a more ade- 
 quate system of visitation of these private retreats. An 
 inspection twice a year by the medical member of the Com- 
 mission is not sufficient. While most of them are admirably 
 conducted, there are some which do not reach the standard 
 of the state hospitals in point of sanitary conditions and 
 means of care and treatment of patients. In some of them 
 patients are at times isolated for unconscionable periods 
 and restraint with muffs and camisoles is employed to an 
 unreasonable degree. In certain of them bathing facilities 
 are insufficient and protection from fire inadequate. In 
 some the proportion of attendants is too small, and even in 
 some of the best of them the quality of the nursing leaves 
 much to be desired. The following letter by Dr. M. Allen 
 
 359 
 
360 APPENDIX V 
 
 Starr to the "Medical Record" is presented as an evidence 
 of the low standard of nursing existing in some of the private 
 institutions: 
 
 Nursing in Private Insane Asylums 
 
 To the Editor of the Medical Record: 
 
 Sir: — The first steps towards the correction of any abuse 
 or evil are publicity of the facts and the awakening of public 
 interest; after this the pressure of public opinion is sufl&cient 
 to bring about a reform. 
 
 I desire to call the attention of the medical public, through 
 your columns, to an abuse which should surely be remedied. 
 I refer to the lack of proper nursing and care of patients in 
 private lunatic asylums in the vicinity. First as to the 
 facts : 
 
 Case I. — A lady of wealth and refinement, who became 
 insane in Germany, was brought home by her family, at- 
 tended by skilled nurses, and, for a time, was kept in her 
 home. She was then sent to Asylum A, where she remained 
 for three years. During this time her nurses and companions 
 were women obtained from the Young Women's Christian 
 Association of this city at a cost of twenty dollars per month 
 — decent persons, but wholly untrained in the care of 
 lunatics, and incapable of giving the mental direction and 
 help which a good trained nurse can give. Subsequently, 
 on her removal to her home and on being put in charge of 
 two skilful nurses, a marked improvement occurred up to 
 the time of her death, which took place from an intercurrent 
 disease. She was charged $100 a week at the asylum, 
 though the food was that of a ten-dollar boarding house. 
 
 Case IL — A young lady, who became acutely maniacal, 
 was sent to Asylum B for care. Her nurses were dismissed 
 
APPENDIX V 361 
 
 and she was placed in charge of an Irish servant and a young 
 French woman, who had failed as a teacher and was willing 
 to take a place as nurse. Neither of them had experience, 
 and the days were passed in constant struggles between them 
 and the patient. For months this condition went on, though 
 the family were anxious to have extra nurses and were ready 
 to pay for them. They were charged seventy-five dollars 
 per week. The patient had to be fed on milk and eggs only. 
 
 Case III. — A lady suffering from chronic mania has 
 been ten years in one institution, Asylum C. She is happy 
 and able to be diverted. By accident I discovered that she 
 was regularly locked into her room by her companion at 
 8 p. M., the door into this companion's room being thus 
 closed till 8 A. M., while she was often absent. Considerable 
 extra expense to the family was incurred, because the attend- 
 ant had a large adjacent communicating room. 
 
 Case IV. — A lady suffering from melancholia had been 
 well cared for by two trained nurses and was improving, 
 when it was thought best to send her to Asylum D. On her 
 admission her nurses were discharged, as the physician "pre- 
 ferred his own nurses." Two weeks later I found her locked 
 in a room with a good-natured, ignorant Irish girl, who in- 
 formed me that she had come to the asylum within a week 
 and had never done any nursing before. As proper com- 
 panionship is essential to recovery in melancholia, I remon- 
 strated with the physician, but no attention being paid to the 
 protest, I removed her, and at home, under proper care, she 
 recovered. 
 
 Case V. — A gentleman of means and high mental ability, 
 who had an attack of mild melancholia, was sent to Asylum E. 
 He has had a most faithful male nurse, intelligent, sober, and 
 capable of managing him perfectly. Three days after his 
 admission to the asylum this man was unexpectedly dis- 
 
362 APPENDIX V 
 
 charged at night, and the patient was put in the care of a 
 rough, dirty Swede, who had been hired that very day, and 
 had never before acted as a nurse in an asylum. To my 
 protest the physician rephed that he "could trust only his 
 own trained nurses — others were liable to drink and dis- 
 obey orders." Two weeks later my patient was found com- 
 pletely terrorized by this man and complained bitterly of his 
 treatment and lack of companionship. He saw the doctor 
 for fifteen minutes daily, but was with the attendant all the 
 time. The man's habits were filthy, and he was better fitted 
 for a stableman than for a nurse. The patient offered to 
 pay for the services of his former nurse, and to pay his 
 board in addition to the fifty dollars per week which he paid 
 for his single room. This proposition was declined. Hence 
 I removed him to another institution, where he is being 
 properly nursed, and is recovering rapidly. 
 
 Here are five cases in five different private asylums near 
 New York, all of which have a good reputation. In all the 
 same abuse exists — unintelligent care is the rule. In all 
 these places the doctor in charge sees the patient once a day 
 or every other day, as all have offices in New York. In all 
 the food is plain but wholesome, and served unattractively 
 and, usually, cold. In all prices from $50 to $100 a week 
 are charged. Double the charge would have been cheer- 
 fully paid for skilful attendants in every case mentioned. 
 
 Secondly, as to the remedy: 
 
 It is well known that at Bloomingdale Asylum there is a 
 good training school for nurses, from which graduates come 
 out every year competent to take care of cases of mental 
 disease. If it became imperative upon these asylum physi- 
 cians to employ trained nurses of good capacity, they could 
 be found and supplied. But since there is no demand made, 
 excepting by patients whose statements are not accepted, 
 
APPENDIX V 363 
 
 or by relatives whose protests are disregarded, the present 
 evils continue. Many physicians wash their hands of a 
 patient as soon as he is consigned to an asylum, and if they 
 do visit him, it is soon made clear that such visits are re- 
 garded as an interference by the doctor in charge. It seems 
 evident, therefore, that pubHc opinion should be aroused 
 in this matter, and I hope this statement of facts of my per- 
 sonal knowledge may awaken such a demand for the reform 
 of these abuses that good may come of this protest against 
 an existing condition. 
 
 Yours respectfully, 
 
 M. Allen Starr, M.D. 
 
COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES 
 
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