Aged sixty-nine, admitted March 28th 1822. The derangement of this
miserable old creature proceeds from imaginary remorse, of which she
is the constant and pitiable prey. She imagines that she has committed
murder upon her unborn infant, and wants, of all things, to be hung.
Her story is, that she was with child, that she drank large quantities
of rue tea to procure abortion, and that she thus poisoned her infant,
deserves to be hung, and hung she must be. She says it is only
tantalizing, and trifling with her feelings, to keep her any longer in
this house. “Let me go at once to Newgate,” she will exclaim, “I have
committed murder, and deserve to be hanged. Pray let me go. Keeping me
here is only tormenting me worse. I know I must be hanged, and why not
let me suffer at once?”
For hours successively will she sit silent and sad, brooding over her
ideal misfortunes, and, if roused from her reflections by a question
from any one, she will answer rationally enough upon any other subject.
But this cord of child-murder once touched by another, or her own
recollection, she instantly relapses to her wonted misery, and repeats
her former intreaty: “Oh! let me go to Newgate! I must be hanged! I
know I deserve it, and why will you not let me go?”
In all other respects, she is quiet, regular, and cleanly.