Part 75 (2/2)

on the double transaction. Now Alfred had already observed that many of the patients looked madder than they were--thanks to short trousers and petticoats, holey gloves, ear-cutting s.h.i.+rt-collars, frilled bosoms, shoes made for and declined by the very infantry: coats short in the waist and long in the sleeves, coalscuttle bonnets, and grand-maternal caps. So he made his toilet with care, and put his best hat on to hide his shaven crown. He then kept his door ajar, and waited for a chance of speaking to the justices. One soon came: a portly old gentleman, with a rubicund face and honest eye, walked slowly along the corridor, looking as wise as he could, cringed on by Cooper and Dr. Bailey; the latter had arrived post haste, and Baker had been sent for. Alfred came out, touched his hat respectfully, and begged a private interview with the magistrate. The old gentleman bowed politely, for Alfred's dress, address, and countenance, left no suspicion of insanity possible in an unprejudiced mind.

But the doctor whispered in his ear, ”Take care, sir. Dangerous!”

Now this is one of the most effective of the formulae in a private asylum. How can an inexperienced stranger know for certain that such a statement is a falsehood? And even the just do not love justice--_to others_--quite so well as they love their own skins. So Squire Tollett very naturally declined a private interview with Alfred; and even drew back a step, and felt uneasy at being so near him. Alfred implored him not to be imposed upon. ”An honest man does not whisper,” said he. ”Do not let him poison your mind against me; on my honour, I am as sane as you are, and he knows it. Pray, pray use your own eyes and ears, sir, and give yourself a chance of discovering the truth in this stronghold of lies.”

”Don't excite yourself, Mr. Hardie,” put in the doctor parentally.

(Formula.)

”Don't you interrupt me, doctor; I am as calm as you are. Calmer; for, see, you are pale at this moment; that is with fear that your wickedness in detaining a sane man here is going to be exposed. Oh, sir,” said he, turning to the justice, ”fear no violence from me, not even angry words; my misery is too deep for irritation, or excitement. I am an Oxford man, sir, a prize man, an Ireland scholar. But, unfortunately for me, my mother left me ten thousand pounds, and a heart. I love a lady whose name I will not pollute by mentioning it in this den of thieves. My father is the well-known banker, bankrupt, and cheat, of Barkington. He has wasted his own money, and now covets his neighbour's and his son's.

He had me entrapped here on my wedding-day, to get hold of my money, and rob me of her I love. I appeal to you, sir, to discharge me, or, if you have not so much confidence in your own judgment as to do that, then I demand a commission of lunacy, and a public inquiry.”

Dr. Bailey said, ”That would be a most undesirable exposure, both to yourself and your friends.” (Formula.)

”It is only the guilty who fear the light, sir,” was the prompt reply.

Mr. Tollett said he thought the patient had a legal right to a commission of lunacy if there was property, and he took note of the application. He then asked Alfred if he had any complaint to make of the food, the beds, or the attendants.

”Sir,” said Alfred, ”I leave those complaints to the insane ones: with me the gigantic wrong drives out the petty worries. I cannot feel my stings for my deep wound.”

”Oh, then, you admit you are not treated _unkindly_ here?”

”I admit nothing of the kind, sir. I merely decline to enc.u.mber your memory with petty injuries, when you are good enough to inquire into a monstrous one.”

”Now that is very sensible and considerate,” said Mr. Tollett. ”I will see you, sir, again before we leave.”

With this promise Alfred was obliged to be content. He retired respectfully, and the justice said, ”He seems as sane as I am.” The doctor smiled. The justice observed it, and not aware that this smile was a formula, as much so as a prizefighter's or a ballet-dancer's, began to doubt a little: He reflected a moment, then asked who had signed the certificates.

”Dr. Wycherley for one.”

”Dr. Wycherley? that is a great authority.”

”One of the greatest in the country, sir.”

”Oh, then one would think he must be more or less deranged.”

”Dangerously so at times. But in his lucid intervals you never saw a more quiet gentlemanly creature.” (Formula.)

”How sad!”

”Very. He is my most interesting patient (formula), though terribly violent at times. Would you like to see the medical journal about him?”

”Yes; by-and-bye.”

The inspection then continued: the inspector admired the clean sheets that covered the beds, all of them dirty, some filthy: and asked the more reasonable patients to speak freely and say if they had any complaint to make. This question being, with the usual sagacity of public inspectors, put in the presence of Cooper and the doctor, who stuck to Tollett like wax, the mad people all declared they were very kindly treated. The reason they were so unanimous was this: they knew by experience that, if they told the truth, the justices could not at once remedy their discomforts, whereas the keepers, the very moment the justices left the house, would knock them down, beat them, shake them, strait-jacket them, and starve them: and the doctor, less merciful, would doctor them. So they shook in their shoes, and vowed they were very comfortable in Silverton Grove.

Thus, in later days, certain Commissioners of Lunacy inspecting Accomb House, extracted nothing from Mrs. Turner, but that she was happy and comfortable under the benignant sway of Metcalf the mild--there present.

It was only by a miracle the public learned the truth, and miracles are rare.

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