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Memorial To The Legislature of Massachusetts

From: The History of Mental Retardation, Collected Papers
Creator: Dorothea L. Dix (author)
Date: 1843
Publisher: University Park Press
Source: Available at selected libraries

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Fitchburg. In November visited the almshouse: inquired the number of insane. Was answered, several, but two in close confinement, one idiotic subject. Saw an insane woman in a dreary, neglected apartment, unemployed and alone. Idleness and solitude weaken, it is said, the sane mind; much more must it hasten the downfall of that which is already trembling at the foundations. From this apartment I was conducted to an outbuilding, a portion of which was enclosed, so as to unite shelter, confinement, and solitude. The first space was a sort of entry, in which was a window; beyond, a close partition with doors indicated where was the insane man I had wished to see. He had been returned from the hospital as incurable. I asked if he was violent or dangerous. "No." "Is he clothed?" "Yes." "Why keep him shut in this close confinement?" "Oh, my husband is afraid he'll run away; then the overseers won't like it. He'll get to Worcester, and then the town will have money to pay." "He must come out; I wish to see him." The opened door disclosed a squalid place, dark, and furnished with straw. The crazy man raised himself slowly from the floor upon which he was couched, and with unsteady steps came toward me. His look was feeble and sad, but calm and gentle.

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"Give me those books, oh, give me those books," and with trembling eagerness he reached for some books I had carried in my hand. "Do give them to me, I want them," said he with kindling earnestness. "You could not use them, friend; you cannot see them." "Oh, give them to me, do"; and he raised his hand and bent a little forward, lowering his voice, "I'll pick a little hole in the plank and let in some of God's light."

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The master came round. "Why cannot you take this man abroad to work on the farm? He is harmless. Air and exercise will help to recover him." The answer was in substance the same as that first given; but he added, "I've been talking with our overseers, and I 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 at Groton. There was a man there from the hospital. I built an out-house for him, and the blacksmith made him an iron collar and chain, so we had him fast, and the overseers approved it, and I here interrupted him. "I have seen that poor creature at Groton in his doubly iron bondage, and you must allow me to say that, as I understand you remain but one year in the same place, and you may find insane subjects in all, I am confident, if overseers permit such a multiplication of collars and chains, the public will not long sanction such barbarities; but, if you had at Groton any argument for this measure in the violent state of the unfortunate subject, how can you justify such treatment of a person quiet and not dangerous, as is this poor man? I beg you to forbear the chains, and treat him as you yourself would like to be treated in like fallen circumstances."

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Bolton. Late in December, 1842; thermometer 4 degrees above zero; visited the almshouse; neat and comfortable establishment, two insane women, one in the house associated with the family, the other "out of doors." The day following was expected a young man from Worcester Hospital, incurably insane. Fears were expressed of finding him "dreadful hard to manage." I asked to see the subject who was "out of doors"; and, following the mistress of the house through the deep snow, shuddering and benumbed by the piercing cold, several hundred yards, we came in rear of the barn to a small building, which might have afforded a degree of comfortable shelter, but it did not. About two-thirds of the interior was filled with wood and peat. The other third was divided into two parts; one about six feet square contained a cylinder stove, in which was no fire, the rusty pipe seeming to threaten, in its decay, either suffocation by smoke, which by and by we nearly realized, or conflagration of the building, together with destruction of its poor crazy inmate. My companion uttered an exclamation at finding no fire, and busied herself to light one; while I explored, as the deficient light permitted, the cage which occupied the undescribed portion of the building. "Oh, I'm so cold, so cold," was uttered in plaintive tones by a woman within the cage; "oh, so cold, so cold!" And well might she be cold. The stout, hardy driver of the sleigh had declared 'twas too hard for a man to stand the wind and snow that day, yet here was a woman caged and imprisoned without fire or clothes, not naked, indeed, for one thin cotton garment partly covered her, and part of a blanket was gathered about the shoulders. There she stood, shivering in that dreary place; the gray locks falling in disorder about the face gave a wild expression to the pallid features. Untended and comfortless, she might call aloud, none could hear. She might die, and there be none to close the eye. But death would have been a blessing here. "Well, you shall have a fire, Axey. I've been so busy getting ready for the funeral!" One of the paupers lay dead. "Oh, I want some clothes," rejoined the lunatic; "I'm so cold." "Well, Axey, you shall have some as soon as the children come from school; I've had so much to do." "I want to go out, do let me out!" "Yes, as soon as I get time," answered the respondent. "Why do you keep her here?" I asked. "She appears harmless and quiet." "Well, I mean to take her up to the house pretty soon. The people that used to have care here kept her shut up all the year; but it is cold here, and we take her to the house in hard weather. The only danger is her running away. I've been meaning to this good while." The poor creature listened eagerly: "Oh, I won't run away. Do take me out!" "Well, I will in a few days." Now the smoke from the kindling fire became so dense that a new anxiety struck the captive. "Oh, I shall smother, I'm afraid. Don't fill that up, I'm afraid." Pretty soon I moved to go away. "Stop, did you walk?" "No." "Did you ride?" "Yes." "Do take me with you, do, I'm so cold. Do you know my sisters? They live in this town. I want to see them so much. Do let me go"; and, silvering with eagerness to get out, as with the biting cold, she rapidly tried the bars of the cage.

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