This man was a harmless lunatic. He never offered the least violence
to any one, and was as unfit a subject of punishment as is commonly
found. He did not, as might have been expected of any one in his
situation, attend very closely to his work, and what he _did_ do, was
not very _well_ done. By this he came under the letter of that common
law which makes no allowance for bodily or mental imperfections, and
was introduced to the solitary cell. He now found a home, and he soon
became perfectly acclimated, and seemed not to care whether he was in
the cell or out of it. When it was found that he was contented in that
place, he was let out, and doomed to wear a block and chain; and
between these two modes of suffering, he was kept in constant
vibration. There was no feeling in the hearts of his punishers. What
though God had set his mark on him in the ruin of his mind, and thus
by his own signet commended him to the sympathy and protection of his
fellow-men? What though no being on earth could give him a moment's
penal suffering without trampling on all the principles of right, and
propriety, and law, and insulting the majesty of Heaven in the abuse
of its subjects? They had the _power_, and they gloried in its
unfeeling and most outrageous abuse.
As an evidence of the manner in which this poor lunatic was used, I
will relate an illustrative circumstance.
He was lying one day on the ground, with his huge block and chain by
his side. The keeper went to him and said, "Chamberlain, you must go
into the solitary cell." "I must?" said he; "let me see. I have been
out--_one_--_two_--_three days_--yes, it is time; I have not been out
so long before this great while."
I would not dwell on these gloomy sketches--I could not prevail on
myself to torture the public mind by the recital of such abusive,
inhuman, and infamous acts, did I not hope, by this means, to do
something that may ultimately effect a _cure_ for these evils. This is
to be done _only_ by holding up the evils, in all their dimensions and
enormity, to the eye of the public; and painful as is the task, I hope
God will give me strength to support it, and to go on untiring, till
the object is accomplished. These representations of human misery
ought to elicit human sympathy, and inspire human effort for their
removal. I know the things that I write; I have tasted the wormwood
and the gall; and though my heart sickens at the remembrance of these
things, still I have put my hand to the plough, and I will not look
back.