Troy Marshall Infirmary and Lunatic Asylum, Ida Hill, under the
direction of a board of Governors. This institution was chartered by
the Legislature of the State of New York.
John C. Heartt, President; J. W. Downings, 1st Vice-President; Thos.
Coleman, 2d Vice-President; R. H. Ward, M. D., Secretary; George A.
Stone, Treasurer.
_Governors._--Hon. William Kemp, Mayor. Jonas C. Heartt, John P.
Albertson, John L. Thompson, Alfred Watkins, M. D., J. W. Freman, John
Hitchins, J. W. Downings, S. M. Vail, Lyman Bennett, J. Hobart Warren,
Thomas Coleman, Alfonso Bills, Hanford N. Lockwood, George H. Phillips,
John Sherry, James Thorn, M. D., J. C. Osgood, M. D., Henry B. Whiton,
Charles Eddy, R. H. Ward, M. D., C. W. Tillinghast, E. Thompson Gale,
George A. Stone, C. L. Hubbell, M. D.
_Inspectors._--Calvin Haynes, T. W. Lockwood, H. Warren.
_Committee of Managers._--Alfonso Bills, J. W. Downing, George H.
Phillips, John Sherry, Thomas Coleman.
_Consulting Physicians._--Dr. Alfred Watkins and Dr. James Thorn.
_Attending Physicians, etc._--Drs. Henry B. Whiton, R. H. Ward, C. L.
Hubbell, G. H. Hubbard.
_Attending Physician and Surgeon._--Joseph D. Lomax, Resident Medical
Superintendent; E. J. Fisk, M. D., Medical Assistant.
John Harrison, Steward; Mrs. Harrison, Matron.
* * * * *
_This is one of the popular institutions of the day. Read and shed a
sympathizing tear._
* * * * *
This certifies that I, Moses Swan, of the town of Hoosick and county of
Rensselaer and State of New York, was confined by bars and bolts, in
the above-named institution, from March 29, 1860, to October 13, 1871.
* * * * *
If I am rightly informed, this institution was chartered by the
Legislature of the State of New York for the benefit of unfortunate
persons who are actual lunatics, not for a penitentiary or
prison-house.
If I am rightly informed by Judge R., the law to get a person into this
institution lawfully, against his or her will, two physicians must
examine the patient, and make oath that A. or B. is a lunatic or an
insane person.
Secondly, these affidavits must be presented to the county judge, and
he issues an order to take Mrs. A. or Mrs. B. to the asylum.
Amid all the opposition used to hinder me from this heart-burdened
work, I have firmly resolved, by the grace of Him who delivered me from
this inhumanly governed institution, to set forth and carry through
the press, to the community at large, some of the most prominent
transactions that came under my observation. So help me * * * *
MY CAPTURE AND RIDE TO THE ASYLUM.
Early in the morning of March 29, 1860, a posse of strong men
surrounded my house, rushed into the hallway, and one into my room of
sickness, sorrow and gloom, made no complaint of lawful authority, and
ordered me to arise, saying he was going to send me to the Marshall
Asylum by post-coach. Said I, "You had better send me in a box,"
choosing death rather than go, having been to Brattleborough Asylum
four months previous.
No alternative, up drove the post-coach, in came the long-arm driver,
F. Tarbal, who captured me and hurled me out of door and into the
coach, while daughter clung to me in tears. He seated me by the side of
Wm. Kelly, a State prison culprit, who took me by the arm. Extricating
myself from him, said I, "You had better go back where you came from."
R. Manchester remarked at the time, he don't like Silkworth's man.
No one can imagine the sorrow and anguish that filled my aching heart
at this critical moment--one snatched from the bosom of the wife of
his early choice, and from the embrace of an affectionate and lovely
daughter; and, yea, more than that, I was numbered with transgressors.
And now for the unhappy ride. Snap went the whip, round went the
wheels; and never was man so sad, for I can truly say, no person from
this time saw me smile for ten long years.
We rode down the hill a few rods and added an extra horse, making a
spike team; then drove to a Mr. Messers, took his wife and little burnt
child aboard; drove next to H. Wardsworth's; here I tried to elope, but
Vandenburg crowded me back. The die was cast. On and on we went; halted
at Pittstown Four Corners; next, Raymertown; here we left the poor pole
horse. "How many oats," says the hostler. "Four quarts," says Tarbal.
Mail changed now for Haynerville, post-office in shoemaker's shop; next
we halted at Brunswick Center to change mail; and next we halted in
Troy, at the Northern Hotel, for dinner; but, mind you, I got none; no,
not so much as the law allows a prisoner; not so much as a cup of cold
water.
I very well remember what Tarbal said when we started from the Northern
hotel and the reply I made him. "Come, Swan," says he, "let's go home."
Said I, "I have no home," and followed him to the coach, when he
immediately started off down street, made a halt at Judge Robertson's
office. Says Tarbal to me, "get out and stay here in the post-office
until I go down to the boat and get a box for Mrs. Brown." I was told,
when a boy, the moon was made of green cheese, but I did not believe
it, neither did I believe at the time that Judge Robertson's office was
the post-office, although he is now postmaster, in 1874.
Here H. Rowland talked with the judge about receiving me into the
asylum, passing papers to the judge and the judge to a boy to go and
have recorded. Presently came Tarbal and ordered me into the coach,
when N. Harwood, Rowland and myself were aboard, up Ida Hill and over
across the stone bridge, we turned to the right and then drove to the
asylum, which is situated between the Albia and the Hollow road. Making
a halt at the office door we were met by Drs. Gregory and McLean. I was
ordered to dismount. I soon found myself sitting in the doctor's office
in the Marshall Lunatic Asylum. "Now," says Rowland, "you'll show us
around." "Yes," was the response from the doctor.
After the post-coach and the Pittstown band left I was soon ushered
into the back hall with many brute, beast-like creatures, to share the
fate of poor Tray caught in bad company. As I entered this hall the
first I noticed was John P. Bacon, handcuffed and bound to a stationary
chair, on one side of the hall, and on the other, Patrick Mely, in the
same way. There were others that I noticed at the time; John Beldon,
Charles Barclay. I mention these men to show, by circumstantial
evidence, that I was sensible at the time I entered this institution.
(I conversed with John P. Bacon the 15th of April, 1874, he was in
the upper or incurable house, doing drudgery under attendant William
Anderson.) Soon after I was seated in this hall a man approached me,
by the name of Smith, whose curly locks hung down his shoulders most
beautifully. He said, "I will take your coat and hat." Soon after
supper was announced, then I found J. Smith was the attendant on that
hall. Although I had had no dinner I could not relish supper in a
prison, for a prison I found it to be. Bedtime came and I was locked up
in a cell three doors from the dead-house, on the left, or east, side
of the south hall, the window was darkened by a heavy shutter and the
door heavily lined on the inside; here I lay, upon a couch of straw or
mattrass, many sleepless nights, listening to the screeches and yells
of the inmates; permitted to walk out upon the hall through the daytime
with some of the patients whose names I shall now record:
SOME OF THE MAIN HOUSE PATIENTS AND ATTENDANTS.
March 29th, 1860, to July 3d, 1862:
_Patients._--John P. Bacon, Patrick Mely, John Newbanks, John Beldon,
William B. Gibbs, Sidney Betts, John Smawly, Capt. Lord, Mr. O'Donnel
(destroyed Bible), Ebenezer Scott, Patrick Fitzgerald, Mr. Babcock (has
lame foot), James Bolin, William Lewis, Alfred (the painter). William
Anderson (helper), Isabella Anderson, helper (hanged herself March
16th, 1873).
From March 29th, 1860, to July 3d, 1862, then I was removed to the
incurable house:
_Attendants._--John Smith, Mr. Burr, Geo. Harrison, Charles Harrison,
one, name unknown, Mr. Adkins (lunatic barber from Brattleborough
asylum), Drs. McLean and Gregory; John Harrison, steward, Mrs Harrison,
matron.
I am now writing a book for sane minds to read and peruse; and whether
you judge the author sane or insane, he prays you may sympathize with
the poor unfortunate beings herein mentioned who are still living. Some
have gone to their long homes; and it is through the mercy of God that
I am spared to make manifest things that I have seen and heard in this
institution, and labor for the good of the poor.
"In a large house are many masters," so says the Bible.
At the present day lunatic asylums have become very popular; and it
is granted by many that this Ida Hill Institution is well cared for,
having twenty-six governors, and half as many doctors, to overlook, and
a committee to inspect, and supervisors to visit. All this may be true.
But where are these duty-bound men? One in the National Bank; another
in the mayor's office; another in his flour store; another galloping
through the city to attend to his own medical practice. All these are
troubled about many things--the supervisors have their home cares also.
These are governors without.
WHO GOVERNS THE INMATES?
But, says one, who governed these patients you have named within? This
I can answer readily, though I had to learn it. Brattleborough and the
Marshall institutions were high schools to teach human nature to me. I
was on one of the halls of the Brattleborough asylum with thirty-seven
patients, where blood was often shed; upon this hall was a patient by
the name of Adkins, here I thought my attendants were lunatics, did not
certainly know. But soon after I got into the Marshall institution,
this same patient, Adkins, became attendant over me, I shall call him
the Brattleborough lunatic barber, for he often ordered me into the
shaving room and shaved me, and my Lord I was afraid to be shaved by
a lunatic barber in a room alone, no alternative, be shaved I must.
And when I was taken to the incurable house, Alfred and Thomas Haly,
formerly patients, whom I shall speak of in future pages, became my
attendants. These men had been self-abused; Alfred was a drunkard; the
others were something else--they also knew how to abuse others; give
such low, degraded men the keys, and a little authority, and their word
is law, and they are lord of all. Such men govern within.
After suffering more than ten years in this institution, I graduated
on the 13th day of October, 1870. If any one thinks that I have not
got my diploma, please look at the accursed harness in the engraving
that I bought in 1873 of Mr. Hogan of River street, Troy, similar
to the accursed ones used in the Marshall Crazy House, to bind poor
unfortunate men and women with, and then torture and strangle them. I
have read of our Saviour casting out devils in kindness, and I have
read of the devil being bound in everlasting chains, but it never
came into my mind that such barbarous acts were practiced in these
institutions, until I saw them with my own eyes and experienced to my
sorrow.
I am governor of my own house, but if I do not rule it well, I shall be
awfully accountable on the day of judgment. And I fear those twenty-six
governors, doctors and inspectors, and all who have any thing to do in
holding men and women in slavery in this institution will have a dread
account to give at the judgment day.
March 29, 1860. After I had lodged in this dead-house hell many lonely
nights, I made up my mind that I was considered a bad man by all who
knew me, yet I was childlike and innocent. I had more than uncommon
watch-care, for I greatly feared to do any thing wrong. Here I used
much discretion and caution, shunning the paths of the inmates, for
many of them were as ferocious as lions. At length I was removed from
this cell to an opposite room on the same hall, and Patrick Fitzgerald
was locked up in it, after which a John Beldon, a man who, it was said,
killed his daughter in a passion. By this time I had learned this cell
was used for wicked men, and I was numbered with transgressors in the
asylum as well as in the post-coach at my door, when we first started.
This, in addition to my own spiritual trouble, added greatly to my
sorrows and tears. I was obliged to stay upon this hall with these
lion-like men through the day-time, though in fear of my dear life. I
was the whole time quiet and peaceable, although I groaned under my
burden with groans that could not be uttered. Since I left the asylum I
have often visited it, not because I felt it a sort of a home, neither
because I was cured, by a course of medical treatment (for I had no
medicine administered to me the first four years). I visited, not
because I had any antipathy against the governors of this institution,
doctors or inspectors. But I visited out of pure motive, for often the
words of the Saviour came to mind, "The poor ye have always with you,
and when you will you may do them good." On one of my visits to the
asylum, I remarked to Dr. Lomax, "You have got a nice theater, now,"
said I, "you need one more house, separate from noise, to keep the
quiet patients in." Although my advice may not be heeded, I suffered
much for want of sleep by being disturbed by noisy inmates. I remained
upon this dead-house hall most of the time till the war broke out,
about that time I was removed to a small hall near the dining-room. I
have said but little about the transactions I saw in that dead-house
hall; many that pained my heart. Among the many was one most trying to
see, a person walk up and down the hall like a roaring lion, and leaf
after leaf torn from the Bible, and destroy it by chewing with his
teeth. This Bible lay upon a stand at one end of the hall. Here was a
mixed multitude of many nations, of high and low degree, of different
faith and different belief, some mild and gentle, whilst others were
lion-like and ferocious as tigers; here the quiet ones had to share
the abuses of the ruffians, and the ruffians had to share the abuses
of the attendants. I have seen patients that were bound with handcuffs
upon this dead-house hall, taken by the throat by attendants, and their
breath shut off. I have seen patients called by attendants to their
assistance, who would thrash other patients to the floor most cruelly.
These transactions, with many others, led me to remark to Doctor Lomax
the necessity of having a house of quietude for quiet patients.
Had my father, when farming, put all his stock into one fold, such as
the horses, the oxen, the swine, the lambs, and all the fowl kind,
would not the strong and ferocious trample down and kill the weak and
the innocent, as is done in these popular institutions at the present
day? I am not recording such barbarous transactions to gratify a
disordered mind, but to wake up sensibility and activity in sane minds
to the subject of suffering humanity.
Neither am I setting forth the inward workings of this institution
that it may be disannulled by the authority that chartered it, for
the purpose of keeping the unfortunate and poor. I am aware that there
are many innocent ones who are suffering in these institutions who are
proper subjects for a prayer-meeting and not for a penitentiary. There
are many received into these lunatic asylums that are more fit for
State prison or penitentiaries than places like these, and these are
they that cause so much bloodshed, as did Haly and Mrs. Anderson, in my
case, being appointed attendants by the government of the asylum.
I have stated that about the time the civil war broke out I was placed
upon a hall near the dining-room, the patients in this hall were more
quiet at times. In the room that I occupied were three single beds,
one was occupied by Charles Barclay a part of the time, at other times
while I remained these were occupied by transient comers. At one time
there was a patient came into this room bound with belt and handcuffs,
locked up with me for a room companion. Now I was in a perilous
situation, for he was a strong, muscular man, apparently unable to
control his thoughts and acts. Many nights he would ramble about the
room, climbing from bed to bed, and from window to window, while I lay
mute in fear; he descended from his ramble to the floor, raised my bed
from its foundation, and threw me prostrate on the floor. Mr. Burr, the
attendant, hearing the noise, unlocked the door and hurled him out.
How many times I have thought of sweet home and friends once so dear,
when locked up in these rooms with these brute-like men. And many has
been the time when I have knelt upon my knees in silent prayer in this
poorly governed institution and implored mercy and deliverance, and
thanks be to Him who hears prayers, He delivered me and gave me peace,
and brought me on my way home rejoicing.
MY WIFE'S FIRST VISIT TO THE ASYLUM.
We met for the first time in prison, as a husband and wife in
friendship and love. But my troubles were so great that my love for
wife or our cousin who came with her was barely manifest, here I had
to learn for the first time how a husband's heart could bleed when
visited by a wife, under such adverse circumstances; our first visit
was short and I cannot say it was sweet to me, for I dreaded the
parting time. Behold, it soon came. I followed her to the door, and
took the parting hand, turning around, being overcome, I fell prostrate
to the floor. Mrs. Swan remembers this to-day as we talk over our joys
and sorrows around our own happy fireside. And I very well remember the
question my careworn wife asked the attendant, Mr. Burr. "What," said
she, "is the matter with him?" Said the attendant, "he is overcome"--no
marvel to me that I was.
A WORD TO HUSBANDS AND WIVES.
Few there be, if any, outside of these walls that know the feelings of
a husband or a wife, when visited by their friends in these places.
I have seen husbands and wives, fathers and mothers, brothers and
sisters, take the parting hand in these institutions and some never
to meet again below the sun. I have seen young and old die in these
places and no friend to smooth their dying pillow or wipe the cold
sweat from their brow, or catch their dying words. O, Fathers! O,
Mothers! keep your unfortunate sons and daughters from these places
until a reform is brought about. You know but little how patients are
treated by attendants and others. I have seen gentlemen and ladies
visit this main house and walk through the hall adjoining the dining
room, and remark how nice it looked, and so it did, but can such a one
imagine how he or she would feel locked up in one of those side rooms
as I was with a raving maniac? How mistaken are many who visit this
place. Once there was a smart appearing genteel looking man walking
through this hall who remarked (looking into a side room), "if I was
sick I should rather be here than home." Thought I, poor deluded
man you know but little about this place. In that same room I had
lodged, upon the bed was a nice white spread, under the spread, to all
appearance, a soft bed, but it was not so, deluded visitor. Would you
like to be in that room to-day and be treated as one poor man was in
the hands of two doctors and their attendant? One says, put the rope
here, tie it up there, and a long struggle ensues between the parties,
at length he gives a long moan, saying, "I shall have to give up."
This patient once had a kind mother and an affectionate father, but
where is he now? Go visitor, to lunatic asylums as visitor, but until
you go as a patient you will know but little about the secret workings
of these institutions. Fathers and mothers, friends and neighbors,
send your sick and unfortunate ones to these places, and you little
know how they are treated and dealt with. I have learned to my sorrow
how patients are treated, and I would say to one and all, know you are
right before you transport any to an earthly hell.
Since I left the Ida Hill asylum, in 1871, I have often visited it,
going through from center to circumference, being permitted so to do
by Dr. Lomax, who was the resident medical superintendent, and is up
to this time, 1874. Dr. Lomax is the only physician that I formed an
intimate acquaintance with while a patient in this institution, and
this acquaintance was first formed in the incurable house, and to do
Dr. L. justice, in my opinion he is a gentleman. I found, in 1871, that
he could not only reason, but that he was willing to hear others. After
I had thoroughly weighed him in my own mind, I resolved to improve
every opportunity of reasoning with him I had, for with him, I had
learned, depended my permit to go _home_, and that I very well knew
would not be until he thought me sane in body and mind. I often heard
patients ask attendants if they could go home, "Ask the Doctor," was
the get-off.
A few of my interviews with Dr. L. are in future pages.
APPARENTLY A GARDEN OF PARADISE.
When first I entered this house, situated upon Ida Hill, in 1860, on
the west side lay a beautiful garden, inclosed with a gate on either
side, east and west, from gate to gate, was the vineyard forming a
shady walk, between the house and the garden was a thorny hedge,
within this garden were many kinds of trees bearing fruit, and like
Adam and Eve, our first parents, I saw Mr. and Mrs. John Harrison often
walking in this asylum garden, in the cool of the day. Soon after
I entered this house, I found a circular containing the rules and
by-laws of this institution, and in it I learned that Mr. Harrison was
steward, and Mrs. Harrison was matron. I also learned that there was
a chapel in the building, and Mr. Harrison often read a chapter and
prayed at the sacred desk, though for ten long years he has not spoken
to me, neither had I been into the chapel, and no one had given me an
encouraging word, however much I needed it. In 1870, I found a friend,
who encouraged my heart, and assisted me to work out my own salvation
with fear and trembling.
Since I left the asylum not a cloud has gathered o'er my mind to darken
my hopes in regard to my future happiness and joys in a future state,
which for more than ten years was the burden of my heart.
Like Paul, I have suffered, and that too for Christ's sake; like Paul
I have been cruelly beaten, yea, and imprisoned, and my feet made fast
in the stocks or straps. And like Job I have been delivered into the
hands of the devil, all but my life apparently.
Whatever might have been the great design of the good Lord in my
case, I can say, with Paul, our light afflictions, which are but for
a moment, work out for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of
glory.
I believe the path of the righteous groweth brighter and brighter
unto the perfect day, though they may have trials and afflictions to
encounter; Jesus promised his grace shall be sufficient for them.
Again and again I have visited the asylum, and when I look for that
once beautiful garden it is not there, it is gone, the hedge is
removed, the vineyard is rooted up, the beautiful pear tree that was
heavily loaded near the window was gone, the currant bush and the
strawberry beds all removed. We ask the cause of this great change.
Who hath sinned, this happy appearing pair or their children, or the
twenty-six governors of the institution. We hope for the best, praying
that change after change may take place, until lunatic asylums become
what they were originally designed for, the benefit of the inmates and
their weeping friends, and not for the benefit of slave holders in the
first degree.
Like the garden, we shall all be changed in the twinkling of an eye.
THE GARDEN CONVERTED INTO SHADY WALKS.
During my stay in the incurable house from July 3, 1862, to October 13,
1871, the beautiful garden that lay west of the asylum was converted
into pleasant walks, with paths and crosswalks overspread with
beautiful shade trees of various kinds, and a beautiful croquet lawn,
neatly arranged for the diversion of the patients.
In 1860 or 1861 I was met at the dining table by Wm. B. Gibbs, an old
acquaintance, who accosted me in the following manner: "How do you do,
Brother Swan, I am glad to see you here." Glad, thought I, and happy to
see a brother shut up in a lunatic asylum. I was not made glad to see
any one who did not try to help me to get home. In the main house I had
but few calls from acquaintances. I will record the names of those: My
wife, P. Stade, Pittstown; C. Pierce, do; Mrs. Norman Baker, do; Mr.
Sprut, do; John Warren, do. Home, home sweet home, thought I.
This Wm. B. Gibbs have just come from Utica Asylum, having been
there once and again many years, at this time somewhat ferocious and
mischievous, became quiet, and his sister took him home about 1867,
with whom he now lives in a low, melancholy state of mind.
N. B.--Sometimes a person's troubles arise from the abuses of others,
and sometimes from self-abuse. Could self-abused persons say as did the
penitent thief on the cross, all would be well.
MY TREATMENT IN THE MAIN HOUSE.
The first night I was locked up in the inner prison or cell heretofore
alluded to, and this was enough to make a rational man crazy. What,
said I, a lunatic asylum for my home, a cell for my dining room, a cell
for my lodging, and a cell for my closet of prayer. Ah, friend, can you
imagine how one feels, sick and in prison, friendless and hopeless.
The first night said I, no dear wife to smooth down my pillow, and
no dear daughter to fan my fainting person, or to give a cup of cold
water. Ah, what a deplorable situation, if I die I must die alone.
Main House. In this house I received no maltreatment from attendants
(much from patients, Gibbs, and others). I remained in this house
fifteen months without the opportunity to go out, even to the chapel.
Not a particle of medicine was administered to me while in this house,
not a book did I have to read after O'Donnel destroyed the Bible.
MY BOARD AND BEDDING.
As to my board in this house, I have no fault to find, in regard to
myself I had enough and in good order, a few strawberries and grapes
in their season and vegetables occasionally, also on thanksgiving and
the holidays some nice meats from the poultry yard, this is customary.
After I was taken from the dead-house cell or cell near the dead-house,
I was changed from hall to hall and from bed-room to bed-room, and
locked in by different attendants, treated roughly by room-mates, not
by attendants personally, but inasmuch as they did not care they did
it unto me. The bedsteads that I occupied were iron through, the beds
were mattrasses; well supplied with suitable clothing; in this house,
summer and winter, kept neat and clean (on my part) more so than of
many others.
REMARKS.
There is a heaven where angels sing, there is an opposite where devils
prowl. There is a paradise and there is a world of woe, and although
a person be exalted to heaven in point of privilege he may be thrust
down to hell. In this apparent paradise, my five Pittstown neighbors
saw me once, and like the deluded man perhaps made up their minds this
was the place for me. Be it known that I, Moses Swann, was never a
proper subject for a lunatic asylum (only as a spy or for the sake of
others), neither was the devil a christian when he met with the sons
of God. Whoever complained against me or believed me a proper subject
for such a lunatic asylum, was as greatly mistaken as I was in regard
to my future happiness; ten years I was conscientiously mistaken, they
might have been; our Saviour said first pull the beam out of thine own
eye then thou canst see more clearly to pull out the mote that is in
thy brother's eye. Many there are who know their neighbors in their own
estimation better than they know their own hearts.
MY WIFE'S LAST VISIT TO THE MAIN HOUSE.
In the spring of 1861, my wife visited me; that year the war broke out
in the south. As we sat in the dining room I said to her, "there is a
war." "O, yes," said she, "and many of the stores are shut in Troy."
Our hearts were too sad to talk much about home and past time, our
visit was short, she inquired of me something about my fare, to her I
never complained, knew she was too weak to bear my burdens, therefore
I made the best of it to her.
The separation time drew near, she says to a patient, "let me out"
(supposing him to be the attendant or turnkey), "not so" said I,
calling George Harrison (for he was attendant then), we took the
parting hand once more in a lunatic asylum.
Soon after we took the parting hand at this time, I was removed to the
south or dead-house hallway, having been shaved by Adkins, the lunatic
barber; I was now afraid I should be shaved to death by others. When I
returned to this hall I was met by a large, robust, muscular man, his
name I did not learn, English by birth. Not long after he came into my
bed-room with patient Gibbs and ordered me to change my own suit for
others, I knew not whose, I was very loth to do so, fearing I should
never get them again, and so it is as yet, my trunk, overcoat, and all
I carried there were retained, although I asked the steward for them
when I left the institution in 1871, Oct. 13.
MY REMOVAL FROM THE MAIN HOUSE TO THE INCURABLE ONE.
On the morning of the 3d day of July, 1862, the attendant, above
described, came into the hall and put an old white hat on my head;
taking me by the arm, says, "Come, go up to the other house" (meaning
the incurable one) "and stay a few weeks." "I don't want to go," said
I. He then left me, and soon returned with George Harrison, who steps
up to me and says, "You must go." The attendant again took me by the
arm, and I stepped out door for the first time since I entered the
institution. He led me on up the hill. By the way we were met by Wm.
Anderson, who abruptly said, "You have got him then." (At this time
Anderson was cow-boy and common helper.) On I marched, like a prisoner
in the hands of a drunken policeman (for I could smell his whisky
breath). Presently we came in sight of the old brick small-pox house,
which is used as a branch asylum, or incurable house, to stow away poor
unfortunate victims like myself. As we came to the south door we were
met, not as at Endor by the great whore of Babylon, but by the great
maiden _Isabel_ Anderson, who bound me, as seen in the engraving.
The attendant now asks the Magdalene _Isabel_, "Where shall I put him?"
"In the room where there is one man," said she. Up one flight of stairs
we went, turning to the right. I was locked up with Ebenezer Scott, who
assisted T. Haly to strangle me, when bound by Isabel. (See engraving.)
Though the reader may think it strange that I should know Isabel, the
Magdalenish woman, when I entered the incurable house, and know it was
the 3d of July, 1862, having had no almanac, yet, it is, nevertheless,
true. How I knew it was the third, when I was removed from house
to house, because the next day was celebrated as our American
Independence, I saw the little boys with fire-crackers; I heard the
loud cannons roar; I saw the fire-works or sky-rockets ascend high in
the air from Troy and Albany, while looking out of the window in the
evening. How I knew Isabel--saw her at the main house scouring the
oil-cloth in the hall; saw her raking hay in the door-yard; saw her
and Dr. Gregory stand out door looking into my window, when my wife
and I were visiting quietly, alone, in a room near the dining room and
kitchen; this was in the winter of 1860, the same year I entered the
asylum.
Again. In my opinion, when Haly and Isabel bound me, she was a
Magdalenian woman of the Cain family, possessed of seven devils, and,
although the _Troy Daily Whig_ would not publish for me against such
treatment, because they got much gain from the institution on Ida Hill,
still they caused the following to be published in their columns,
namely, Isabel's suicidal and untimely death, which took place March
16, 1873--hanging to the same balusters whose stairs led to my room in
the third story of the incurable house--same stairs she dragged Wm.
Jefferson down.
SUICIDE AT THE MARSHALL INFIRMARY--A FEMALE NURSE HANGS HERSELF TO THE
BALUSTERS--THE CAUSE A MYSTERY.
The inmates of Marshall Infirmary were greatly shocked on arising
yesterday morning to discover that one of the nurses had hanged herself
during the night. The facts are as follows:
Isabel Anderson, aged about fifty-four years, first entered the
employ of the infirmary as a nurse some eight or ten years ago. She
was assigned to take charge of the ward for female insane persons,
but when the small-pox was epidemic, her ward was changed, and
small-pox patients were put under her charge. At the disappearance of
that disease she was again placed in her old position. She had been
suffering from some obscure disease since January last, but within
the last few days she had greatly improved, and when her husband (who
has charge of the male insane ward) left her on Saturday night, she
appeared to feel better and more cheerful than she had in some time.
A little before 1 o'clock, yesterday morning, her husband thought he
heard her knock at the door, and consequently went to her room, but
found every thing quiet. It is probable that the noise Mr. Anderson
heard proceeded from some one of the insane patients who are more or
less noisy all the time. After satisfying himself that every thing was
right he returned to his room and went to sleep. On rising about 6
o'clock, he was descending to his wife's room, when he was horrified
to see his wife suspended by the neck from the balusters on the third
story. He immediately gave the alarm, and with assistance, cut down
the body and laid it out in her room. Mrs. Anderson was a very fleshy
woman, weighing over two hundred pounds, and the supposition is that
she left her room between 1 and 6 o'clock, taking one of the sheets
from her bed, and proceeding to the hallway on the third story, tied
one end of it to her neck and the other to the balusters and then
dropped over the rail. Owing to her great weight it is probable that
she died almost immediately. Coroner Brennan was notified and took
charge of the remains, and he will hold an inquest.
Mrs. Anderson will be buried to-morrow. She was a hard working,
industrious woman, and by studied economy had saved considerable money
and bought three or four houses up-town. Her husband was very devoted
to her and feels his loss keenly. He cannot give any cause for her
suicide, as she had never threatened any thing of the kind nor given
any reason to suspect such an intention. It is but justice to say
that the persons in charge of the infirmary are entirely blameless in
the matter, as Mrs. Anderson was capable of attending to her duties
as usual. We make this remark, as the public are often apt to blame
the authorities of a hospital when any such occurrence takes place.
Dr. Lomax, who is at present confined to his room, stated to a _Whig_
reporter that the affair was an entire mystery to him. Mrs. Anderson
was one of the most faithful, honest and industrious nurses ever
employed in any hospital and had never shown any signs of insanity.
Her sickness, however, may have caused her mind to be depressed, and
perhaps during the night she may have been taken with some acute pains,
and jumping out of bed, deliberately committed the act.
The above local news is an extract from the _Troy Daily Whig_, Monday
morning, March 17, 1873.
I knew that Isabel Anderson was turnkey in the incurable house of the
Marshall asylum more than nine years.
I know that Isabel Anderson was not honest. My wife brought me two
flannel shirts, they were marked M. Swan, on the bosom, I wore them
a few times and they were gone, and they were worn by Isabel and Haly
that winter, and I had to go without all winter.
So much for the _Troy Daily Whig_.
M. Swan at home.
Isabel's maiden name was Miss Anderson, Dr. Lomax told me she was
married after I went to the incurable house, in care of Haly and
others. After Mrs. Isabel was married to William Anderson, he became an
attendant over the male patients, and I came under his care; this was
about 1866 or 1867.