The Knickerbocker, or New-York Monthly Magazine, June 1844

Shaw. (Kicking violently.) Murder! murder! murder!

Rustics. It won’t do no good; we got yer; you may as well come fust as last. You’re crazy as a coot, and wuss now than when we fus see you. Your eyes shows it.

Shaw. I’ll go with you, my friends, but don’t kill me; oh! I beseech you don’t kill me!

Rustics. No, we wont hurt you; only come along to the house. Come along.

Shaw. Take your knuckles out of my throat, please. Aside. Their hallucination is extreme; the symptoms of their disease have taken a form the most vindictive. Yes, my friends, conduct me safe. We shall soon reach the house; then all will be explained.

At this very hour an amusing scene was enacting among the lunatics in the large hall of the asylum. One who professed magnetism was trying his skill upon a subject, to the great entertainment of his fellows. He was making the passes after a singular fashion, upon a docile fellow who sat bolt upright in a chair with a face of the most stolid gravity. Standing at a distance, he would rush up with long strides, make a wavy flourish with his hands over the face of the subject, and retreat as rapidly. Then with eager, swelling eyes, aiming with the fore-finger of each hand, he would run up and point at some phrenological bump upon the cranium. But the patient sat immovable, and was neither to be soothed into slumber, nor coaxed into giving any indication that the organs were excited; as is the case with the well-drilled protegés of your itinerant lecturers.

Nearly all the inmates were witnesses of this scene, except a few who were restricted, and one fair girl who walked in the garden sobbing; and never did tears fall out of more beautiful eyes, or shed over such a sweet face the interest of sorrow. They gushed profusely on the rosebud in her hand; fit emblem of herself; for she had not yet broke into the bloom of womanhood. Where tears flow, despair has been already softened to sorrow, and smiles may yet shine out of the darkness, as the bow of promise bridges only a firmament of cloud. This poor creature, frightened at a disturbance at the gate, fled like a fawn to her own apartment. The professor was lugged in by the head and ears, with unnecessary roughness. Appearances were much against him, as he always had a crazy look. His strange dress and equipments, his unshaven beard, his long hair straggling over his forehead, his long nose and long legs, his much-abused and bunged-up hat, which yawned wide open at the crown and showed the lining, wore the external tokens of a mind ill at ease. Added to this, a sickly smile shed a yellow glare over his features, of which the effect was neither natural nor pleasant; and as the lunatics pressed around, and the clowns still clutched him by the throat, even that passed away, and left an expression of bewilderment and undisguised dismay. At that moment the physician arrived, and glancing at the new subject just brought to the establishment, and concluding that his present wildness would need some coercion at first, requested him to be brought into the nearest apartment. The four formed a singular group. ‘Sit down,’ said the doctor, nodding calmly to the professor, as he prepared to study the case. ‘Ha! ha!’ exclaimed Professor Shaw, dropping into a chair, and striving hard to be amused at his predicament, ‘ha! ha! ha! My dear Sir, ha! ha! yes, I think I may say ha! ha! ha!’—and he laughed so obstreperously as to set the whole company in a roar. ‘This excursion for scientific purposes; near coming to an unpleasant termination; some of your poor fellows, doctor,’ casting a knowing look at the clowns, ‘are strongly possessed they brought me here against my will.’

The doctor smiled.

‘Let me explain all,’ said Mr. Shaw, recovering breath, and speaking with preternatural calmness. ‘Oblige me first by having those men removed. Their presence disturbs me. I pity them from my lowest soul; but they have—it is ridiculous—ha! ha! ha! yes, it is ridiculous—but they have hurt me very much and disturbed my equanimity. You should confine them more strictly, Sir, and not let them go at large to murder strangers by the way-side.’

The doctor smiled.

‘In search of relaxation, during the intervals of a great work which I have in hand, having been made an honorary member of the Tinnecum Association, I came here for the prosecution of scientific purposes, and for the collection of botanical and mineralogical specimens, which I have at present in my breeches pocket.’

Rustics. He! he! he! that’s enough—see his eyes!

Shaw. (Smiling.) Doctor, how long have these subjects been in your institution? Their insanity has not taken a very mild form. Will you oblige me by removing them from the room? Indeed it hurts me to see the immortal mind astray.

The doctor smiled.

Shaw. (Enthusiastically.) As I entered these doors, a most lovely being shot across my path. It was but an instant; a quick light, a momentary flash, and all was gone! But it was enough! I saw her! I never shall forget her. Who is she? That sweet girl has impressed her image on my soul!

Doctor. My friend, be calm.

Shaw. Oh, my dear Sir! understand me. I am calm, I am calm.

Doctor. Perhaps you will be so kind as to inform me where your friends reside, and when you left them upon this journey.

‘My friends!’ exclaimed the professor, with a bitter sneer; ‘who are my friends? Where have I found any whose friendship was other than a name? My books, my cabinet, my studies, the great work on which I am now laboring—these are my friends; it is only through these that I shall be raised to fame. Sic itur ad astra.’

Doctor. I am satisfied that we had better secure–

Shaw. Do you want any assistance, Sir? I will willingly help you to get these poor fellows to their rooms.

Rustics. He’s the cunningest we ever seen.

Doctor. Yes, he would deceive any one. Wait a minute my men.

Shaw. If you don’t need me I’ll bid you good day; I can’t stay any longer.

Doctor. Oh no, we can’t let you go, in common humanity, till we have communicated with your friends.

Professor Shaw, in the utmost alarm, attempted to plunge out of the room. He was laid violent hands on by all three; his indignation boiled over; he struggled most desperately, knocked down the doctor, and attempted to jump out of the window, but in the end was overcome, a straight-jacket put on him, the stones were taken out of his pocket, he was conducted to a separate apartment, and as the shades of night fell around him, he almost doubted himself whether he was in his sound mind. His wits seemed to be indeed scattered. In vain he tried to collect them, and to realize his present position, which was the most false and unfortunate one in which he had ever been placed. He charged the Devil with conspiracy. He had already sneered at the suggestion of having friends; how should he be the victim and laughter of his enemies! He imagined them holding their gaunt sides and shaking with a spectre-like malignity. Then he thought of the fair girl whom he had seen in the garden shedding tears on roses, and strove to weave a chaplet of verse which should be more unfading than flowers. What a strange destiny was his! The victim of untoward accidents, persecuted by some evil spirit, and leading an aimless, desultory life, which he yet feared would lead on to lunacy. What should he do in the present instance? Be patient? Yes, he would be calm, forgiving, philosophical as ever. Footsteps are approaching; the door of his cell opens; perhaps it is already the token of his release. Yes, one of his own townsmen enters. Alas! he owed the professor a grudge, and assured the doctor that he was cracked, and begged him to hold on to him by all means; he would go and inform his friends. ‘Ha! ha! ha!’ exclaimed Shaw, as the door closed; ‘there it is again; in luck as usual; ha! ha! ha!—ha! ha! ha!’

As it grew dark, and he lay on his pallet, a crowd of thoughts and imaginations pursued him through a long sleep, and when he opened his eyes to the morning light, he gazed around the strange place with astonishment, and tried in vain to persuade himself that his present position was not a dream.

In three days he was released from limbo; retracing his steps, with all the bugs and specimens which he had collected. And, for those who feel an interest in Professor Shaw, it may be agreeable to know, that in his wanderings, having discovered in a green lane, on the margin of a duck-pond, a district school in want of a pedagogue, he forthwith assumed the birch, and may be now seen at almost any hour of the day, in the midst of his noisy populace, commanding silence, or dusting them on their least honorable parts. ‘Tough, are you? I’ll see if I can find a tender spot. Come, no bawling, or I’ll flog you till you stop. Thomas Jones, take your book, and stick your nose in the c-o-rner. First division may go out. First class in geography–’

    F. W. S.

STANZAS

TO THE SPIRITS OF MY THREE DEPARTED SISTERS

WRITTEN AT MID-WINTER

Sweet sisters! ye have passed away,
In solemn silence one by one,
And left a brother here to stray,
In doubt and darkness—and alone!
For like three lamps of holy flame,
Ye shone upon my weary way,
Till a chill breath from heaven came,
And quenched for aye the kindly ray.

Where are ye now?—where are ye now?
Those loving hearts and spirits, where!
O’er three new graves in grief I bow,
But ye are gone—ye are not there!
The winds that sigh while wandering by,
Curl the bright snow in many a wreath,
And sing in mournful melody,
O’er the cold dust that sleeps beneath.

The birds that sang when ye were here,
Are singing in another clime;
Have left the hedge and forest sere,
And gone where all is summer-time.
The frail bright flowers that bloom’d around,
When ye were blooming bright as they,
Lie crushed and withered on the ground,
Their fragrance heavenward passed away.

And ye are gone where genial skies
And radiant suns eternal shine,
Where peaceful songs forever rise,
From saintly tongues and lips divine.
And like the flowers whose sweet perfume
Has left the soil and risen above,
Has risen from your silent tomb
The holy fragrance of your love.