was received as a companion into the kitchen. Soon she engaged in trivial employments. After a fortnight,' said the old man, I knocked off the chains and made her a free woman.' She is at times excited, but not violently; they are careful of her diet, they keep her very clean; she calls them father and mother. Go there now, and you will find her clothed,' and though not perfectly in her 'right mind,' so far restored as to be a safe and comfortable inmate.'

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"GROTON.

A few rods removed from the poorhouse is a wooden building upon the roadside, constructed of heavy board and plank. . . . There is no window, save an opening half the size of the sash, and closed by a board shutter; in one corner is some brickwork surrounding an iron stove, which in cold weather serves for warming the room. The occupant of this dreary abode is a young man, who has been declared incurably insane. He can move a measured distance in his prison; that is, so far as a strong, heavy chain depending from an iron collar which invests his neck permits. In fine weather, - and it was pleasant when I was there in June last, the door is thrown open, at once giving admission to light and air, and affording some little variety to the solitary, in watching the passers-by. But that portion of the year which allows of open doors is not the chiefest part; and it may be conceived, without draughting much on the imagination, what is the condition of one who for days and weeks and months sits in darkness and alone, without employment, without object."

This unhappy being in Groton, with the chain round his neck, is alluded to again in the following conversation between Miss Dix and the keeper of the almshouse in Fitchburg:

"Why [she there asked, speaking of a poor lunatic] cannot you take this man abroad to work on the farm? He is harmless; air and exercise will help to recover him." "I have been talking with our overseers, [was the answer]

"and I've proposed getting from the blacksmith an iron collar and chain; then I can have him out by the house." "An iron collar and chain!" "Yes. I had a cousin up in Vermont, crazy as a wildcat, and I got a collar made for him, and he liked it." "Liked it! How did he manifest his pleasure?" Why, he left off trying to run away. I kept the almshouse in Groton. There was a man there from the hospital. I built an outhouse for him, and the blacksmith made him an iron collar and chain, so we had him fast, and the overseers approved it."

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"SHELBURNE. I had heard, before visiting this place, of the bad condition of a lunatic pauper. I desired to see him, and, after some difficulties raised and set aside, was conducted into the yard, where was a small building of rough boards imperfectly joined. All was still, save now and then a low groan. The person who conducted me tried, with a stick, to rouse the inmate; I entreated her to desist; the twilight of the place making it difficult to discern anything within the cage; there at last I saw a human being, partially extended, cast upon his back amidst a mass of filth, the sole furnishing, whether for comfort or necessity, which the place afforded; there he lay, ghastly, with upturned, glazed eyes and fixed gaze, heavy breathings, interrupted only by faint groans, which seemed symptomatic of an approaching termination of his sufferings. Not so thought the mistress. He has all sorts of ways; he'll soon rouse up and be noisy enough; he 'll scream and beat about the place like any wild beast, half the time.' 'And cannot you make him more comfortable? Can he not have some clean, dry place and a fire?' 'As for clean, it will do no good; he's cleaned out now and then; but what's the use for such a creature? His own brother tried him once, but got sick enough of the bargain.' 'But a fire; there is space even here for a small box stove.' 'If he had a fire he 'd only pull off his clothes, so it's no use.' I made no impression; it was plain that to keep him securely confined from

6

escape was the chief object. 'How do you give him his food? I see no means of introducing anything here.' 'Oh!' pointing to the floor, one of the bars is cut shorter there; we push it through there.' 'There? Impossible! you cannot do that; you would not treat your lowest dumb animals with that disregard to decency!' 'As for what he eats or where he eats, it makes no difference to him; he'd as soon swallow one thing as another.'"

"NEWTON.

...

Opening into this room only was the second, which was occupied by a woman, not old, and furiously mad. It contained a wooden bunk filled with filthy straw, the room itself a counterpart to the lodging-place. Inexpressibly disgusting and loathsome was all; but the inmate herself was even more horribly repelling. She rushed out, as far as the chains would allow, almost in a state of nudity, exposed to a dozen persons, and vociferating at the top of her voice; pouring forth such a flood of indecent language as might corrupt even Newgate. I entreated the man, who was still there, to go out and close the door. He refused; that was not his place! Sick, horror-struck, and almost incapable of retreating, I gained the outward air."

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"Of the dangers and mischiefs sometimes following the location of insane persons in our almshouses I will record but one more example. In Worcester has for several years resided a young woman, a lunatic pauper, of decent life and respectable family. I have seen her as she usually ap peared, listless and silent, almost or quite sunk into a state of dementia, sitting one amidst the family, but not of them.' A few weeks since, revisiting that almshouse, judge my horror and amazement to see her negligently bearing in her arms a young infant, of which I was told she was the unconscious parent! Who was the father none could or would declare. Disqualified for the performance of maternal cares and duties, regarding the helpless little creature with a perplexed or indifferent gaze, she sat a silent, but oh, how eloquent, a pleader for the protection of others of her neglected and outraged sex! Details of that black

story would not strengthen the cause; needs it a weightier plea than the sight of that forlorn creature and her wailing nfant? Poor little child, more than orphan from birth, in this unfriendly world, a demented mother, a father on whom the sun might blush or refuse to shine!"

Such are brief selections from some of the extreme instances of misery and barbarity to which Dorothea L. Dix now called public attention through her Memorial to the Legislature of Massachusetts. Perhaps even more pitiful was the situation of the long catalogue of those whose reason, less wholly overthrown, left them (like the poor young woman to whom Charles Sumner so pathetically alludes) more sensible of their forlorn condition. The Memorial concluded with an impassioned appeal for adequate asylum provision against the continuance any longer of so foul a blot on the fair fame of the Commonwealth :

"Men of Massachusetts, I beg, I implore, I demand, pity and protection for these of my suffering, outraged sex. Fathers, husbands, brothers, I would supplicate you for this boon but what do I say? I dishonor you, divest you at once of Christianity and humanity, does this appeal imply distrust. . . . Here you will put away the cold, calculating spirit of selfishness and self-seeking, lay off the armor of local strife and political opposition; here and now, for once, forgetful of the earthly and perishable, come up to these halls and consecrate them with one heart and one mind to works of righteousness and just judgment. . . . Gentlemen, I commit to you this sacred cause. Your action upon this subject will affect the present and future condition of hundreds and thousands. In this legislation, as in all hings, may you exercise that wisdom which is the breath of the power of God. Respectfully submitted.

"85 MT. VERNON STREET, BOSTON,

...

"D. L. DIX.

CHAPTER IX.

SUCCESS OF THE FIRST MEMORIAL.

INEVITABLY a Memorial such as that now described struck and exploded like a bombshell. It was carrying the war into Africa. It was the arraignment not of a local evil here and there, but of the state of things prevailing more or less in every township throughout the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. "Incredible! incredible!" was the first natural outcry of humane people. "Sensational and slanderous lies!" was the swift and fiery rejoinder of selectmen, almshouse keepers, and private citizens in arms for the credit of their towns. Everywhere the newspapers bristled with articles. angry 66 "There are some," this was the tone too often adopted, “and Miss Dix may be one of them, who are always on tiptoe, looking forward for something more marvelous than is to be discovered in real life; and because the things themselves will not come up to this pitch of the imagination, the imagination is brought down to them, and has a world of its own creating."

All in vain had the memorialist sought to make it plain that it was a system, and not individuals, she arraigned, and that to put the pauper insane under the practically uncontrolled authority of ignorant and passionate persons, not only destitute of due knowledge, but destitute of any fit appliances for the treatment of the most terrible of human visitations, was