While my inventive operations were in progress, I was chafing under the
unjust and certainly unscientific treatment to which I was being
subjected. 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.
I continued to object to the inadequate portions of food served me. On
Thanksgiving Day (for I had not succeeded in escaping and joining in
the celebration at home) an attendant, in the unaccustomed rôle of a
ministering angel, brought me the usual turkey and cranberry dinner
which, on two days a year, is provided by an intermittently generous
State. Turkey being the _rara avis_ 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 memory which
for months had not responded to so agreeable a stimulus. While
lingering over the delights of this experience 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," I said. "It's the best I've had in
many a day, and I have a right to get as much pleasure out of it as I
can."
"We'll see about that," he replied, and, snatching it away, he 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
outbursts 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. 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 the worst of nuisances.
We gave the doctors and attendants no rest--at least not intentionally.
Whenever the assistant physician appeared, we upbraided him for the
neglect which was then our portion. At one time or another we were
banished to the Bull Pen for these indiscretions. And had there been a
viler place of confinement still, our performances in the Bull Pen
undoubtedly would have brought us to it. At last the doctor hit upon
the expedient of transferring me to a room more remote from my
inspiring, 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 megaphonic Bull Pen, however, continued with irregularity, but
annoying certainty to furnish its quota of noise.
On several occasions I concocted 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 lively
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. This
boast he evidently tucked away in his memory.
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 their continued refusal to give me a drink
when I asked for it. Except at meal time, 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 to drink, 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 returning from one of the dances
which, at intervals during the winter, the management provides for the
nurses and attendants. 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," one of them said.
"Well, you won't get in if I can help it," I replied, as I braced my
iron bedstead against the door.
My defiance and defences gave the attendants the excuse for which they
had said they were waiting; and my success in 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 was a young man of
twenty-seven. Physically he was a fine specimen of manhood; morally he
was deficient--thanks to the dehumanizing effect of several years in
the employ of different institutions whose officials countenanced
improper methods of care and treatment. It was he who now 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 about 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 which I wore at that time. 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 might 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 usually a
premeditated assault is not 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
die 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 recourse 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 Bull Pen by a sympathetic fellow-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
outside my transom.
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.
"Doctor," I said, "I have something to tell you,"--and I glanced
significantly at the attendant. "Last night I had a most unusual
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 put on a knowing look, but said nothing and soon left the room.
His guilty subordinate 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.