Alias Grace (5 page)

The inmates here are pretty evenly divided as to sex; as to symptoms, there is a great variety.

Religious fanaticism I find to be fully as prolific an exciting cause of insanity as intemperance —

but I am inclined to believe that neither religion nor intemperance will induce insanity in a truly
sound mind — I think there is always a predisposing cause which renders the individual liable to
the malady, when exposed to any disturbing agency, whether mental or physical.

However, for information regarding the chief object of your enquiry, I regret that you must seek
elsewhere. The female prisoner, Grace Marks, whose crime was murder, was returned to the
Penitentiary at Kingston in August of 1853, after a stay of fifteen months. As I myself was
appointed only some three weeks prior to her departure, I had little chance of making a thorough
study of her case. I have therefore referred your letter to Dr. Samuel Bannerling, who attended
her under my predecessor. As to the degree of insanity by which she was primarily affected, I am
unable to speak. It was my impression that for a considerable time past she had been sufficiently
sane to warrant her removal from the Asylum. I strongly recommended that in her discipline,
gentle treatment should be adopted; and I believe she presently spends a part of each day as a
servant in the Governor’s family. She had, towards the latter end of her stay, conducted herself
with much propriety; whilst by her industry and general kindness towards the patients, she was
found a profitable and useful inmate of the house. She suffers occasionally under nervous
excitement, and a painful overaction of the heart.

One of the chief problems facing the superintendent of a publicly funded institution such as this, is
the tendency on the part of prison authorities to refer to us many troublesome criminals, among
them atrocious murderers, burglars and thieves, who do not belong among the innocent and
uncontaminated insane, simply to have them out of the prison. It is impossible that a building
constructed with a proper reference to the comfort and the recovery of the insane, can be a place
of confinement for criminal lunatics; and certainly much less so for criminal impostors; and I am
strongly inclined to suspect that the latter class are more numerous than may generally be
supposed. Besides the evil consequences inevitably resulting to the patients from the commingling
of innocent with criminal lunatics, there is reason to apprehend a deteriorating influence on the
tempers and habits of the Keepers and Officers of the Asylum, unfitting them for the humane and
proper treatment of the former.

But as you propose to establish a private institution, you will, I trust, incur fewer difficulties of this
nature, and will suffer less from the irritating political interference that frequently prevents their
rectification; and in this, as in general matters, I wish you every success in your endeavours.

Enterprises such as yours are unfortunately much required at present, both in our own country
and in yours, as, due to the increased anxieties of modern life and the consequent stresses upon
the nerves, the rate of construction can scarcely keep pace with the numbers of applicants; and I
beg to proffer any small assistance, which it may lie within my power to bestow.

Yours very truly,

Joseph Workman, M.D.

From Mrs. William P. Jordan, Laburnum House, Loomisville, Massachusetts, The United States of
America; to Dr. Simon Jordan, care of Major C.D. Humphrey, Lower Union Street, Kingston,
Canada West.

April 29th, 1859.

My Dearest Son:

Your long-awaited note containing your present address and the instructions for the Rheumatism
Salve arrived today. It was a joy to see your dear handwriting again, even so little of it, and it is
good of you to take an interest in your poor Mother’s failing constitution.

I take this opportunity to write you a few lines, while enclosing the letter which arrived here for
you the day after your departure. Your recent visit to us was all too brief — when may we expect
to see you among your family and friends once more? So much travelling cannot be salutary,
either for your peace of mind, or for your health. I long for the day when you choose to settle
down among us, and to establish yourself properly, in a manner fitting to you.

I could not help but observe, that the enclosed letter is from the Lunatic Asylum in Toronto. I
suppose you intend to visit it, although surely you must have seen every such establishment in the
world by now and cannot possibly benefit from seeing another. Your description of those in
France and England, and even of the one in Switzerland, which is so much cleaner, filled me with
horror. We must all pray to have our sanity preserved; but I have grave doubts concerning your
future prospects, should your proposed course of action be pursued. You must forgive me for
saying, dear Son, that I have never been able to understand the interest you take in such things.

No one in the Family has ever concerned himself with Lunatics before, although your
Grandfather was a Quaker clergyman. It is commendable to wish to relieve human suffering, but
surely the insane, like idiots and cripples, owe their state to Almighty Providence, and one should
not attempt to reverse decisions which are certainly just, although inscrutable to us.

In addition, I cannot believe a private Asylum could possibly be made to pay, as the relatives of
Lunatics are notoriously neglectful once the afflicted person has been put away, and wish to hear
or see nothing more of them; and this neglect extends to the settlement of their bills; and then
there is the cost of food and fuel, and of the persons who must be put in charge of them. There are
so many considerations to attend to, and surely the daily consorting with the insane would be far
from conductive to a tranquil existence. You must think too of your future wife and children, who
ought not to be placed in such close proximity to a pack of dangerous madmen.

I know it is not my place to determine your path in life, but I strongly urge that a manufactury
would be far preferable, and although the textile mills are not what they were, due to the
mismanagement of the politicians, who abuse the public trust unmercifully and become worse
with every passing year; yet there are many other opportunities at present, and some men have
done very well at them, as you hear of new fortunes being made every day; and I am sure you
have as much energy and sagacity as they. There is talk of a new Sewing Machine for use in the
home, which would do exceedingly well if it might be cheaply produced; for every woman would
wish to own such an item, which would save many hours of monotonous toil and unceasing
drudgery, and would also be of great assistance to the poor seam-stresses. Could you not invest
the small inheritance remaining to you after the sale of your poor Father’s business, in some such
admirable but dependable venture? I am certain that a Sewing Machine would relieve as much
human suffering as a hundred Lunatic Asylums, and possibly a good deal more.

Of course you have always been an idealist, and filled with optimistic dreams; but reality must at
some time obtrude, and you are now turned thirty.

I say these things, not from any wish to meddle or interfere, but out of a Mother’s anxious care
for the future of her only and beloved Son. I do so hope to see you well-established before I die —

it would have been your dear Father’s wish, as well — you know I live only for your welfare.

My health took a turn for the worse after your departure — your presence always has an
improving effect upon my spirits. I was coughing so much yesterday that my faithful Maureen
could scarcely get me up the stairs — she is almost as old and feeble as I am, and we must have
looked like two old witches hobbling up a hill. Despite the concoctions I am dosed with several
times a day, brewed by my good Samantha in the kitchen — which taste as vile as all medicines
ought to, and which she swears cured her own Mother — I continue much the same; although I
was well enough today to receive as usual in the parlour. I had several visitors, who had heard of
my indisposition, among them Mrs. Henry Cartwright, who has a good heart although not always
a very polished manner, as is often the case with those whose fortunes have been of recent
acquisition; but that will come in time. Accompanying her was her daughter Faith, whom you will
recall as an awkward girl of thirteen, but who is now grown up and recently returned from
Boston, where she was staying with her Aunt, to broaden her education. She has turned out a
charming young woman, everything one might wish for, and displayed a courtesy and gentle
kindness many would admire, and which is worth so much more than flamboyant good looks.

They brought with them a basket of delicacies — I am thoroughly spoiled by dear Mrs. Cartwright

— for which I expressed much gratitude, although I could barely taste anything, as I have no
appetite at present.

It is a sad thing to be an invalid, and I pray every night that you may be spared, and will take care
not to overtire yourself with too much study and nervous strain, and with staying up all night by
lamplight, ruining your eyes and puzzling your brain to pieces, and to wear wool next the skin
until the warm weather is fully here. Our first lettuces have appeared, and the apple tree is
budded; I suppose where you are it is still covered with snow. I do not think that Kingston, being
so far north and on the lakeshore, can be at all good for the lungs, as it must be very chill and
damp. Are your rooms well-heated? I do hope you are eating strengthening food, and that they
have a good butcher there.

I send you all my love, dear Son, and Maureen and Samantha beg to be remembered to you; and
all of us await the news, which we hope will come very soon, of your next Visit to us, until which I
remain as always,

Your very loving,

Mother.

From Dr. Simon Jordan, care of Major C. D. Humphrey, Lower Union Street, Kingston, Canada
West; to Dr. Edward Murchie, Dorchester, Massachusetts, The United States of America.

May 1st, 1859.

My dear Edward:

I was sorry not to have been able to make a visit to Dorchester, to see how you are getting on,
now that you have hung your shingle up, and have been busy ministering to the local halt and the
blind, while I have been gypsying about Europe, seeking how to cast out devils; which, between
us, I have not learned the secret of as yet; but as you may suppose, the time between my arrival at
Loomisville, and my departure from it, was much taken up with preparations, and the afternoons
were perforce consecrated to my mother. But upon my return, we must arrange to meet, and to
lift a glass or two together “for auld lang syne”; and to talk over past adventures, and current
prospects.

After a moderately smooth journey across the Lake, I have arrived safely at my destination. I
have not yet met my correspondent and, as it were, employer, the Reverend Verringer, as he is
away on a visit to Toronto, and so I still have that pleasure to anticipate; although if his letters to
me are any indication, he suffers like many clergymen from a punishable lack of wit and a desire
to treat us all as straying sheep, of which he is to be the shepherd. However, it is to him — and to
the good Dr. Binswanger, who proposed me to him as the best man for the purpose on the western
side of the Atlantic — for the price, which is not high, the Methodists being notoriously frugal —

that I owe this splendid opportunity; an opportunity which I hope to be able to exploit in the
interests of the advancement of knowledge, the mind and its workings being still, despite
considerable progress, a
terra incognita.

As to my situation — Kingston is not a very prepossessing town, as it was burned to the ground
some two decades ago and has been rebuilt with charmless dispatch. The new buildings are of
stone or brick, which will, one hopes, make them less prone to conflagrations. The Penitentiary
itself is in the style of a Greek temple, and they are very proud of it here; though which pagan god
is intended to be worshipped therein, I have yet to discover.

I have secured rooms in the residence of a Major C. D. Humphrey, which although not luxurious,
will be commodious enough for my purposes. I fear however that my landlord is a dipsomaniac;
on the two occasions upon which I have encountered him, he was having difficulty putting on his
gloves, or else taking them off, he seemed uncertain which; and gave me a red-eyed glare, as if to
demand what the Devil I was doing in his house. I predict that he will end as an inhabitant of the
private Asylum I still dream of establishing; although I must curb my propensity to view each new
acquaintance as a future paying inmate. It is remarkable how frequently military men, when
retired on half-pay, go to the bad; it is as if, having become habituated to strong excitements and
violent emotions, they must duplicate them in civilian life. However, my arrangements were made,
not with the Major — who would doubtless not have been able to recall having made them — but
with his long-suffering wife.