No. 2.THE LUNATIC ASYLUM.
No. 2.
THE LUNATIC ASYLUM.
Staunton, Va., June, 1859.
Thesun was hanging low in the west, when we stood at the gateway of the Staunton Lunatic Asylum. His rays were gilding with a golden lustre the hoary summits of the Blue Ridge, as they printed their bold outlines on the cloudless evening sky; and as a few beams fell here and there on the graveled walks, the flower-crowned terraces, and verdant shrubbery of the beautiful greensward which stretches forth in front of the Asylum, we could but thank an ever-gracious and ever-good Providence, for His inestimable gift to mankind—the bright, sparkling, joyous sunshine.
A moment’s glance at the general appearance of the buildings convinces the beholder that they are not as beautiful nor as commanding as those of the Blind Institute; though much taste is displayed in the arrangement of the walks, and selection of many and choice specimens of rare and beauteous flowers and shrubbery. You enter the main building, after ascending a flight of granite steps, through a portico of Ionic architecture, supported by four graceful pillars. The first apartment which we enter is thechapel. On either side of the pulpit are painted in beautiful gilt letters, the Ten Commandments; in the opposite end of the room stands a large and handsome organ; the dome and walls are beautifully frescoed. The pulpit is occupied every Sabbath evening by some one of the ministers of the various evangelical denominations worshipping in Staunton. All these bespeak that these poor demented creatures are not forgotten on the Sabbath; and even where a few sparks of intellect linger amid the ashes of minds once proud and noble, it is interesting to see how those sparks are kindled anew by the light of religion.
After wending our way through various other portions of the buildings, and stopping here andthere to bestow a hasty glance at one and another rare specimen of curiously carved workmanship, by some lunatic genius, we find ourselves gazing through iron bars at a scene which would cause the most unfeeling heart to shudder with horror. There are grouped together, in the narrow confines of four tall brick walls, not less than a hundred patients in the very worst stages of lunacy. It seems that the darkest cavern in the regions of Despair could present no more heart-rending picture.
The wild glare of the piercing eye, the dishevelled locks; the meaningless gibberish; the incoherent babbling; the fiendish ravings that rent the silent air, together with numberless other acts which constitute the sum of a poor maniac’s life, have left an impression on our mind that will go with us to our grave.
How true are the words of the poet—
“Oh, what a noble mind is here o’erthrown!The courtier’s, soldier’s, scholar’s eye, tongue, sword;The glass of fashion, and the mould of form,The observed of all observers, quite, quite down.”
“Oh, what a noble mind is here o’erthrown!The courtier’s, soldier’s, scholar’s eye, tongue, sword;The glass of fashion, and the mould of form,The observed of all observers, quite, quite down.”
“Oh, what a noble mind is here o’erthrown!The courtier’s, soldier’s, scholar’s eye, tongue, sword;The glass of fashion, and the mould of form,The observed of all observers, quite, quite down.”
“Oh, what a noble mind is here o’erthrown!
The courtier’s, soldier’s, scholar’s eye, tongue, sword;
The glass of fashion, and the mould of form,
The observed of all observers, quite, quite down.”
We willingly leave such scenes, and turn our ready steps to an observatory which crowns the main building, and commands one of the loveliest views we ever witnessed.
Let us forget the painful sights we have just beheld, and drink in the resplendent beauty of nature as she stands robed in the crimson folds of evening—
“For the west yet glimmers with some streaks of day.”
“For the west yet glimmers with some streaks of day.”
“For the west yet glimmers with some streaks of day.”
“For the west yet glimmers with some streaks of day.”
Beneath us are the various buildings of the Asylum, glittering, like burnished gold, in the rays of the setting sun. To the north rise the graceful proportions of the Blind Institute, nestled in its grove of wide-spreading oaks; to the west are seen the heaven-pointing spires and beautiful residences of Staunton; to the east is the graveyard of the asylum, with its plain, upright marble slabs, marking the spot where slumber the remains of many a friendless maniac; to the south is one wide-extended view of sloping hills, smiling valleys, sunlit streams and snow-white cottages, dotted over the scenelikestars in the blue canopy of heaven.
Who can look upon such a prospect and not feel his thoughts turn from nature to nature’s God?
“All things are calm and fair and passive; earthLooks as if lulled upon an angel’s lap,Into a breathless, dewy slumber: so stillThat we can only say of things, they be.”—Festus.
“All things are calm and fair and passive; earthLooks as if lulled upon an angel’s lap,Into a breathless, dewy slumber: so stillThat we can only say of things, they be.”—Festus.
“All things are calm and fair and passive; earthLooks as if lulled upon an angel’s lap,Into a breathless, dewy slumber: so stillThat we can only say of things, they be.”—Festus.
“All things are calm and fair and passive; earth
Looks as if lulled upon an angel’s lap,
Into a breathless, dewy slumber: so still
That we can only say of things, they be.”—Festus.
The gathering darkness reminds us that we have trespassed too long on the kindness of the gentleman who has so cheerfully shown us through the many apartments of this truly noble institution, whose object is to ameliorate the condition of the suffering maniac.
We bid her, her directors and her officers “God-speed” in their noble enterprise, and earnestly pray that they may continue “blessing and being blessed” until the light of reason shall be shed abroad in the darkened intellect of every lunatic in our land.
There are many other points which we might mention; but they are of such a nature as only to sicken the heart, and we pass them by in silence, simply remarking that if there be one crowning blessing for which our hearts should ever be outgushing in grateful thanks to our Heavenly Father, it isREASON.
Philip Barrett.