A native of Castlebar, in Ireland, aged about forty-seven years,
appears to have been admitted to this Institution on the 6th of August
1818, but was formerly in Old Bethlem Hospital; for some time at a
mad-house at Hoxton; and has been confined altogether about twelve
years.
This ferocious maniac, from the first period of his confinement, has
uniformly evinced a character of desperation, vengeance, and sanguinary
cruelty, scarcely conceivable even under the deplorable frenzy by which
he is afflicted; and more characteristic of a tiger than a human being,
even deprived of the rational faculties.
Indeed his history, previously to his confirmed insanity, has been
marked by a disposition naturally fierce and cruel; and it is not
improbable that the intolerable stings of a tortured conscience,
reflecting on the sanguinary deeds in which he had been an active
accomplice, formed the source of that frenzy, which neither length of
years, the natural abatement of passion, coercion, or mild treatment,
have been able to mitigate in the slightest degree.
This wretched man was a ringleader of the mutinous and murderous crew
of His Majesty’s frigate the Hermione, commanded by Captain Pigott,
who with his officers were massacred by that crew, in the year 1797.
This lamentable catastrophe took place in the West Indies, on the 22d
September, when Captain Pigott and all his officers (excepting the
surgeon and master’s mate), with most part of the marines on board,
were murdered. One of the principal mutineers was Captain Pigott’s own
coxswain, who had sailed with him for four years; and this fellow found
his way into the captain’s cabin when he was asleep, and cut off his
head, while his accomplices were at their bloody work in other parts of
the ship. The miscreants afterwards carried the frigate into Laguira,
and sold her to the Spanish Governor. In the course of the war, much
the greater number of the mutineers were taken on board of other ships,
and suffered the punishment justly due to their crimes.
Walsh, the maniac, however, escaped that fate, and from the stories
elicited from him, at intervals more lucid and less furious, it appears
that he had been afterwards both in the British Navy and Army, and
deserted several times from each. By his own account, he has murdered
with his own hand _nine_ or _ten_ persons. He acknowledges to have
been a ringleader in the mutiny on board the Hermione: and being asked
his motives, he says the treatment by his officers was so tyrannical,
that he and his shipmates could stand it no longer. The project was
first started by a butcher on board, who belonged to the forecastle:
this man came and consulted with Walsh and a few others, who agreed
on the horrible project; and one day the parties rushed from between
decks, seized the ship, effected the massacre, carried the frigate into
Laguira, sold her, and divided the purchase-money amongst them. After
he had spent his share of the money he rambled about the colony; and
when all was gone, he contrived to find his way to England, where he
enlisted in a regiment of dragoons. He deserted from that, and enlisted
in the 42d Highland regiment, and was with that corps under Sir Ralph
Abercrombie in Egypt. He deserted again from that regiment, and entered
as a seaman on board one of His Majesty’s ships, from which he was
afterwards drafted on board the Victory, and was close to the immortal
Nelson when he fell in the fight off Trafalgar.
From the first time of his confinement in Bethlem Hospital, it has been
found necessary to keep him always strongly ironed; notwithstanding
which, he found means to kill two persons in Bethlem and Hoxton,
before he was removed to this establishment. For a long time after
his admission here he conducted himself pretty calmly, and was under
no very great restraint, until the month of April 1820. About that
time the Commissioners of the Roads had given to the governors of the
hospital a large quantity of road-drift, for the purpose of raising the
lower part of the airing-ground, which was low and damp. Amongst this
rubbish were unfortunately brought in the blade of an old knife and one
half of an old pair of scissors. These were discovered by Walsh; and
he carefully concealed them until he found private opportunities of
grinding the knife to a sharp edge and point, like the killing-knife
of a hog-butcher; and watching a treacherous opportunity, when no one
could have the slightest suspicion of his purpose, on Sunday, the 30th
of April 1820, he sprung with fury upon a sickly patient named Dennis
Leonard, while sitting down, and before he was observed or could be
prevented, he inflicted upon the poor man twelve or fourteen wounds,
many of which were mortal. The poor victim was carried into the house,
but expired almost immediately.
A coroner’s inquest was held on the body, who returned a verdict of
wilful murder against Walsh; but agreed to add that he was in a state
of frantic derangement when he committed the act. He was, however,
taken to Guilford in Surry, on the 4th of August following, to be tried
at the Assizes for the murder; but the Grand Jury of the county, on
inquiring into the circumstances, ignored the bill, and the maniac
was sent back to this hospital. This fatal occurrence was the first
burst of his ferocity since he was admitted here, and he has been
under constant restraint ever since. He is naturally a man of powerful
strength, which is greatly increased by the paroxysms of his frenzy.
He had put on him at first a pair of handcuffs of extraordinary
strength, made purposely for himself, which he broke in a very short
time. The keeper then put on him, by order, two pairs of the common
handcuffs; but these, within two hours afterwards, he smashed into a
hundred pieces. It was then found necessary to contrive other means
for his restriction, consisting of an iron cincture that surrounds
his waist, with strong handcuffs attached to it, sufficient to check
his powers of manual mischief, but with liberty enough for all his
requisite occasions of food, drink, taking snuff, &c. &c. Such are the
means for his restraint by day: not painful to him, but merely for
the safety of others. At night it is found necessary to fasten him by
one hand and leg to his bedstead, with strong locks and chains. He is
never permitted to associate with any other of the patients. He goes
out alone into the airing-ground every morning until breakfast-time;
in summer from six o’clock to eight, and in winter from seven to half
after eight; afterwards he is kept alone in the dining-room from
morning until bed-time; excepting only when the other patients are
there at meal-times, when he is locked up in his own room; the door
of which, as well as that of the dining-room, are made of remarkable
strength, with double bolts, and perfectly secure: for he would break
through the common bed-room doors instantly.
But bloodshed and massacre are the constant topics of his frenzied
discourse, and seem to afford him high gratification and delight.
After the murder of poor Leonard, he used to declare repeatedly, “that
he was better pleased at what he had done, than if he had all the
riches of India, for that it made his mind happy and contented.” His
vengeance against the poor victim was excited by some dispute about
religion. Leonard, he said, had spoken profanely of the Almighty and
the Virgin Mary (in a language not to be repeated). This was the cause
of his anger, and he had waited for an opportunity of punishment until
the fatal day in which it was accomplished. He rejoiced at what he had
done. He told the Coroner’s Jury, that if he could obtain the king’s
crown, and all the riches of the universe, he would not forego the
pleasure of killing him, for all would be nothing to the ease of mind
he felt in putting him out of the way.
Yet he has sometimes said, but evidently in dissimulation, “that he was
sorry for killing the poor lad;” hoping by his pretended contrition to
obtain some snuff, of which he is passionately fond.
But his propensity to mischief, malice, and personal abuse, are as
incessant as his taste for bloodshed and slaughter. He has contrived,
notwithstanding his restriction of hands and feet, to break above
seventy panes of glass, within the last two years, in the dining-room
windows, although guarded on the inside by a strong iron wire
lattice-work. This amusement he contrived to effect by standing on a
form placed at some distance from the windows, and taking the bowl of
his wooden spoon in his mouth, he poked the handle through the meshes
of the wire-work, and thus broke the pane. This has caused, for some
time past, the seats to be still further removed from the windows.
He is continually venting blasphemous imprecations, and the grossest
abuse against his fellow-patients, whose names he knows, or adapts
others to them. “Stinking Lloyd,” “rascally Jack Hallwood,” “thieving
old Coates,” “lousy Jenkins,” “sneaking Pocock,” “damned Welch,”
“black Dams,” and a poor Greek, whom he calls “a lousy Spaniard.”
Even his very dreams, when he sleeps, are occupied with scenes of
fury and vengeance; and he takes delight in detailing them the next
morning. When he dreams of having murdered any, and sometimes all of
the patients above named, he wakes quite pleased, and details the scene
with much satisfaction; and the manner in which he has gratified his
vengeance, and what fine fun he had in seeing them die. He thought he
had a sword, with which he first cut all their throats, and then walked
round them to see which should live longest; that when they were all
dead, or nearly so, he split their skulls, and then transposed the
brains from Hallwood’s head into that of Lloyd; Lloyd’s into Coates’s;
his to Jenkins’s; his again into the Spaniard’s, and his again to Hugh
Dams’s. He then ripped up their bellies, and changed their entrails in
like manner; and then he hung and burned them all: but the only thing
that grieved him was to hear them all talking in the gallery next
morning. He stamps and raves most of the day, and nearly all night,
with a piece of blanket crammed into his mouth, gnawing and tearing
their souls out, as he imagines and terms it. He picks up pieces of
glass, old nails, bones, and spoons which he grinds to a point, stones
of a convenient size for flinging, and indeed every thing that is
likely to enable him to do mischief, to which he is always inclined if
he has an opportunity.
He stamps on the ground like a cart-horse, which has rendered his feet
almost as hard as hooves, and gladdens himself with the idea that he
is trampling some of the persons before-mentioned under his feet. He
will at times turn with the wildest ferocity to some particular spot,
where he pictures to his disordered fancy some of those objects of
his vengeance prostrate, and then jumps and stamps with the wildest
rage, exclaiming, “die you rascals, die and be damned!” “hang him
up!” “jump his soul out!” “ha, you vagabond, die!” with numberless
other expressions of rage and revenge: and this fit over, he comes
away, seemingly quite pleased, and sings and whistles, elated beyond
description, until he conjures up another imaginary group, on whom he
repeats in fancy the same operations. Every voice he hears he supposes
to be that of some one abusing him, and even the ducks in the pond he
has charged with calling him abusive names, and abuses them in his
turn, in furious terms, and tells the steward, with an oath, that if
he could get at them he would tear out their windpipes. He swears and
blasphemes most shockingly, talks most impiously, and uses the most
indecent language: but any topic of murder or bloodshed is his chief
delight. He is a strong, hardy fellow: his aspect wild, brutal, and
terrific beyond description. He presents a hideous and appalling
specimen of the human savage deprived of reason, and exposed to all
the hurricanes of unbridled passions and the delusions of a bewildered
fancy.