This young man had been under the influence of mental derangement a
few years before he became a prisoner, and he had not yet so far
recovered but that his mind was often very much depressed, and his
ideas confused; and this induced an unhealthy and debilitated state of
body. During one of these frequent seasons of disease, a phial of
_nitric acid_ was given him by the doctor, of which he was directed to
take a few drops in half a tumbler of water twice a day. This
prescription he followed a few days; and then one morning, in a fit of
delirium, he took all that remained in an equal quantity of water at
once. The effect was immediate; he was senseless, and stiffened with
convulsions, and in this condition was conveyed to the hospital,
where he endured for several weeks as much bodily pain as human nature
can suffer.
For three or four weeks he was perfectly senseless to all appearance;
he breathed, but almost imperceptibly; he could neither see nor hear;
and the only indications of life were his feeble pulse and his feebler
breath. While he lay in this condition, he was so shamefully
neglected, that _certain living creatures_ began to inhabit his eyes!
His clothes were not changed, his face was not washed, and all that
was done for him was to administer the medicine prescribed and pour a
little gruel into his mouth. No one supposed it possible for him to
live, and he was left, in utter neglect, to die. His rash act was the
theme of unfeeling and inhuman sport; and it was said that, as he
wanted to die, it was a pity that he should not have his wish.
After a few weeks, however, contrary to all expectations, he began to
give evidence of returning life. His head began to move, and it became
apparent that he could hear; but he could not speak louder than the
lowest whisper, and he could see nothing distinctly. At this time his
iron-hearted keeper, in the luxury of his unearthly feelings, would
move the candle before his eyes in order to draw his attention, and
when he seemed not to notice it, he would thrust it close up to his
face until he burned off all his eye brows.
By slow degrees he so far regained his health as to be able to walk
about and perform some labor, though his voice was nothing but an
audible whisper, and his eye-sight would not, with the best glass,
enable him to read.
When he returned to his work, I had an opportunity of conversing with
him, and I learned from his own lips the cause of his attempt at
suicide, and his bodily feelings under the effect of the medicine he
so rashly took. He said that life had lost all its charms to him; he
had lost the confidence and respect of mankind, and nothing awaited
him but ignominy, and the keen rebuke of a guilty conscience, which he
was unable to bear. He dreaded to die, but he dreaded _more_ to live.
He had thought on the crime of suicide; he had thought also on the
crimes of which he had _already_ been guilty; and his conclusion was
that the door of mercy was closed against him. "A guilty conscience!
despair of the mercy of heaven! these," said he, "kept me in awful
dread of the pains of eternal death; and convinced that this _dread_
of hell was _worse_ than the suffering dreaded, I resolved to know the
_worst_, and hang no longer on the rack of anticipated destruction."
After taking the acid, he said that he had no distinct recollection of
any thing till he began to recover. Then it seemed as if he was
awaking from a long and dreadful sleep, and the only impression that
he brought up with him, in respect to his sufferings, was, that his
breast had been a sea of fire, rolling to and fro, as if vexed by a
tremendous tempest. Under this sea of fire, he was fixed in motionless
agony, and it was not until the last flaming billow had rolled over
him, that he could move or know whether he was living or dead.
The last time I had an opportunity of conversing with him, he told me
that his views in respect to the mercy of God, were changed. "I now
believe," said he, "that my Maker will have mercy on me, sinful as I
am, and I mean to love him, and serve him, and '_wait_ all the days of
my appointed time till my change come.'" And I was delighted to hear
him speak, in the simplicity of his soul, of that great goodness of
which he was the living and speaking monument; and to observe how
scrupulously conscientious he was in all his words and actions. What
his future life has been I know not, but I well remember his pleasing
change of mind, and I could not help believing that it was the
_goodness_ of God that led him to repentance.
How awfully certain is it that "the way of the transgressor is hard!"
_This_ poor sufferer found it so; and as no iniquity can go
unpunished, there must be a dreadful retribution for the man, who, not
only shut up his bowels of compassion from him, in the day of his
afflictions, but sported, like a demon, with his dreadful condition.
This prostrate sufferer had never injured his keeper, but was entitled
to his kindness, and there is no excuse for that neglect and cruel
torture, which he received at his hand. The laws of God and man, the
laws of humanity, and even the laws of the prison, which demand for
every prisoner, kindness, and for the sick, the best and most
affectionate attention, were wantonly outraged by such conduct, which
must in the estimation of every feeling heart, fix a lasting stain,
not only on the guilty author of it, but on his _superiors_ who
suffered such iniquity to pass in silent approbation.