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Astounding Disclosures! Three Years In A Mad House

Creator: Isaac H. Hunt (author)
Date: 1851
Publisher: Isaac H. Hunt
Source: Patricia Deegan Collection
Figures From This Artifact: Figure 2  Figure 3

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CHAPTER III.

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As I closed the last chapter, so was affairs with me; torture by day and night. About this time my son called on me. I saw him, but did not see him go away. Strange, wild, fearful fancies racked my mind, in regard to him and his fate. I heard a scream and supposed it to be his voice; I supposed he had been put into the shower box and showered. In my bewildered state of mind, I was sure that it was his voice which uttered a terrible scream. I supposed that, a day or two after this, they put him into the furnace, and cooked his flesh, and put it upon the table for me to eat. These things gave me great anguish, and I mentioned them to Babcock. He made this atrocious reply: "Well, let the devil kill his own meat, then he can't find fault with his butcher." It was then winter; snow and cold sleets were upon the earth. I was ordered out into the snowy yard to split and saw wood, and into the attic to pump water, and attend to the various menial occupations best calculated to worry and annoy me. I refused on several occasions, when Babcock carried or dragged me into the yard or attic, and forced me to work as he directed. It was terrible, but there was no appeal, it was inhuman, but who could object? They were my masters, and I their easy slave -- their crushed victim.

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One night an awful noise arose to my ear. It was the loud cracking and snapping so peculiarly described and attributed to the rack of the Inquisition. Instantly, it occurred to me, that they were breaking my brother upon the wheel, after the manner of the bloody fiends of the Bastile -sic- and Inquisition. I heard the crack and crash -- the very dogs howled and barked --and thus I was wrought up into a state of horror that no pen can describe, no tongue give utterance to. All of these delusions, as they termed them, were actually got up in some form or other, for the express purpose of working upon my imagination, and make me think they were realities, by these inhuman monsters, into whose hands I had fallen. After having instilled into my mind that my son had been destroyed, they again contrived to make me think that he was still alive, and was destined for another fate, equally horrid. One day I saw some one pass a box into the middle gallery which was the first floor below me; the box was perforated with innumerable holes, and was as I supposed, for some purpose of torture. It was very apparent to my distracted mind, that it was to enclose the body of my son. The box was carried into the gallery upon the shoulder of a man. Again, I was set wild. I heard a loud, angry voice, say: "Get into the box; come, get in quick!" and then followed a stifled scream of horror, and the terrible sound of the hammer in nailing on the lid of the box. Was not the suspense and anguish horrifying and terrible to bear? believing, as I did, that my son was about to be or already was a victim to the inquisitors of this den of crime and inhumanity. Can a man endure such scenes and not become a maniac, however sound his mind may have once been. With these delusions, for they were all delusions did the wretches, officiating in the Hospital, torture me, as realities, -- and hence they are more than entitled to the scourge of justice and the utter condemnation of the people at large. Parson Tappan came one Sabbath evening to preach at the Institution. I saw him, but did not see him leave. And then again, they instilled it into my mind, that they had murdered him, and served up his flesh as food for me for, by their acts they led me to believe that the Hospital was a Roman Catholic inquisition for the destruction of all Protestants, and hence the fate of Parson Tappan. The thought shot a thrill of awe to my very soul. I for-swore meat, and ate none for nearly three months, but the horrid idea haunted me day and night. There were two nights during these scenes, when the gallery was filled with smoke almost to suffocation, and they induced me to believe that they were burning the bodies of my family connections. At that time I actually thought it was really so. I know not what produced the smoke, but have no doubt but what it was some animal substance, -- such as grease, with, perhaps, some other substances, which was put into the furnace with the design to induce me to think that it proceeded from those causes which were instilled into my mind. Because I raised my window in the night to obtain fresh air, during the smoke, they put a screw over the top of the sash, so that I could not raise it but about two inches, and thus it remained four or five months, until the weather became quite warm, before they took it out. Can any one conceive of anything more horrible or distressing to the bewildered imagination of a man than such scenes as these? I feel no hesitation in saying -- yea, I have proved, that they did all they could, and left not a stone unturned to keep me in terror, drive me mad, torture and, rack my shattered brain and body! -- There is another case in point, a proof on piles of proof, that their purpose was as bold as dire, as heartless as cunning, and cruel beyond all recorded atrocities. Parson Judd visited the Hospital and preached to the inmates. I supposed he had heard my case, knew my fears and thoughts; yes, he selected, of all other subjects or texts for a sermon, the very one best calculated to convince me of the truth of my fears, the death and destruction of my son. Here is the text:

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