Wilmington journal. [volume] (Wilmington, N.C.) 1844-1895, 1851-01-31
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Ihe following narrative, with scarcely an alter
aton, is true The particulars thrilling as they are
were taken from: the mouth Of the unfortunate crea
ture during one of the lucid intervals between hi
nevis OF madness. while confined in the mad hous,
OF r., England, and may be remembered as be
ing noticed by the journals of the time: the note
were lad aside, but not forgotten and the author
bnt waited an oppe runty place them in this man
ner before the readers of this sheet-LterarY Amer
can. a....l
:" And here" said the keeper as he came to No
Is, from whence came low moaning, 'here we have
strange prisoner, from whom you may gather a
,ale worthy ofnote and surprising any you have ia
ken II we can but find him quiet, he is at times
strange story is his, and he is one of the most say
age and raging prisoners we have at times'
80 saying, he unlocked the door, after having
looked through the crate, and we entered-crouch-
ed down upon his iron and immovable stool in the
corner. with his face buried in his hands his hair
long, black and matted, his dress fantastical and
strangebeng but the attire torn in various places
OF n ring mlm1c-Was a man, who moved not at our
entrance; he was like all we have SEEM chained by
the wrists to the floor, rendering it impossible for
MN TO move more than was required in sitting or
lying upon the coarse bed beside him. Nothing es-
capped him except low moaning, which, at times
he sent forth, and shaking his head buried it still
deeper in his hands. The keeper said in this man
ner he had passed whole days, andthen he was more
peaceable and less violent.
Touching him with the end of the stick he held in
his hand, he said" Look up" And the miserable
creature turned up his haggard face to our view
why do you come here again. said he, sadly
to make q show of me You tell me- and those
who come to me that am mad do YOU not fear
me ay, strong man do you not fear me- weak crea-
ture that am yes and so you chain my arms and
hands and feet, so that cannot lift them up, but
look ye, there is one thing you cannot chan-one
thing you cannot manacle, and if you could would
bear all the chains that could be heaped upon me
my memory! Chain that keep that dread form
from before me-let it not haunt me night and day
let me not hear that voice that rings forever in
my ear; and you may chain and load me down, and
will thank you for it.' And he dropped his head
and buried his face once more in his hands
. He has not been rational for many dav;
SAID the keeper: for which am truly thankful for
he IS like lion when the fits him. and'-
Ha ha ha T. shouted the mailman risno. and
finging his arms as his manacles allowed" ha! ha!
ha am with you once again. Come is all ready
Who goes first? Why do you stare so wildly at me?
Come, am merry. and shall make them laugh out
to-nigh! ha! ha! ha and his pale face was lit up
with wild demoniacal expression. Soon he spoke
again:
Where's Mary not come yet Strange-it is
tme-long past time, and she knew we'll she should
be here earl y. Why gaze at me she is not-no
no. nothing has happened-tell me, is she safe, is my
dear child safe Oh God remember, Mary is dead
dead Ha ha ha y And with loud shrieks,
he dashed his hand to his forehead.
He sat down again upon his low iron STOOL deiec-
tedly and spoke not then looking up again, he gazed
round and upon the keeper and myself who stood
by the door beyond his reach.
Come nearer to me- said he, reckoning: come
near not you no not you, fear you," and he shud-
dered as the keeper stepped towards him. fear
you, for your eyes strike terror to nv heart and
that, and the form of my child before me ever. I
dread. Come, and will tell you of my child--my
little Mary, my own pet child, I'll tell you how she
HE'D"
Not daring to trust myself within his reach. 7
StopDoQ IS n hot bo I
not reach me- he bent forward, placed his hand up
IN his head, and, with sudden tremor and wildly
5laring eyes. he began
"Once know not when, but could count by
lays knew the night. could tell the bright sun and
The clear moon and stars but now all are the
same to me-days know none, and light fingers a.
FOUND me ever; well, long, long ago. ere came toll
his dull gloomy place, was out among men drank
lte, cried, laughed, like aye and that
lily for l was jester in the ring made the crowd
he heartless rabble, laugh and shout, and raised
merry noise, matter if my heart was sick or CAV
put was glad sometimes to see the long tiers, the
closely packed boxes and the stalls each one with
smiles, to hear the loud laugh and merry words and
know that the cause Of it ALTO hear the loud
hurrahs, to see them wave their hats and handker-
chiefs, when, with shrill whoop dumped into the
ring. That would cheer me sometimes when nv
heart belied the laugh upon my face, the lest to
which my tongue gave utterance.
We'll, years went on, until nv wife nv own
beloved Mary, died she whom loved so fondlv and
truly, laid to sleep in the cold damp earth no one
could have thought that |, the jester the clown the
one who then laughed, could weep! But, oh ! how
many hours have passed beside that lonely grave
my Mary she loved me as few women love she had
trod on the same rough road walked beside me in |
my troubles and sorrows, sharing what enjoyed or
without murmur; and when knew she |
was dead, it seemed if my time on earth was over
and the same grave which was dug for her should
take me in also. But she had left me one whom 7 |
must watch with anxiousncss and love, if possible,
more than heretofore--my little daughter the i'm |
age OF her mother my own little pet Mary.
struggled with the deep, the bitter curse of
poverty. Could | have gained livelihood by toll |
ncessant hardship and endurance, elsewhere, gladly
would have rushed to it, and blessed heaven for its
kindness. But no; poor, broken down. miserable |
wretched man--no profession, no business save the
one followed was still forced to drag the arena
where my wants allowed but very short, scanty
respite upon my wife's death.
But what cared the crowd The clown should |
not be sad no. impossible for the ring-iester to
weep, it was thing unheard of, and would raise |
louder laugh than any of my liveiest sallies. And
so with q heart overburdened, sick and faint | was
forced to laugh and make merry.
oh, what pleasure and Joy to me was little
Mary how her sweet artless smiles lit up the gloom
within my breast-how her merry laugh made me
feel young and happy for the time, and with what
fondness, strange, ay, mad devotion, did hang up
on every word every look of hers She grew and
was beautiful indeed.
g How many hours when the toll of my profession |
was for the night did sit beside her little cot |
and gazed upon her she lay sleeping before me!
often, very often, with smile playing upon her love-
ly face, telling that her dreams sweet and pleas
ant and making me even smile myself as looked |
upon her, and wish that was young, and innocent,
as pure as she.
''And then what horrid, horrd thoughts came