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CHAPTER V.
A LUNATIC BALL.
ONE half of the world believes the other half to be mad ;
and who shall decide which moiety is right, the reputed
lunatics or the supposed sane, since neither
party can be unprejudiced in the matter? At present
the minority believe that it is a mere matter of
numbers, and that if intellect carried the day, and
right were not overborne by might, the position of
parties would be exactly reversed. The dilemma
forced itself strongly on my consciousness for a solution
when I attended the annual ball at Hanwell
Lunatic Asylum. The prevailing opinion inside the
walls was that the majority of madmen lay outside,
and that the most hopelessly insane people in all the
world were the officers immediately concerned in the
management of the establishment itself.
It way a damp, muggy January evening when I
journeyed to this suburban retreat. It rained dismally,
and the wind nearly blew the porter out of his
lodge as he obeyed our summons at the Dantesque
portal of the institution, in passing behind which so
many had literally abandoned hope. I tried to fancy
how it would feel if one were really being consigned
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to that receptacle by interested relatives, as we read
in three-volume novels; but it was no use. I was
one of a merry company on that occasion. The
officials of Hanwell Asylum had been a little shy of
being handed down to fame ; so I adopted the ruse
of getting into Herr Gustav Kuster's corps of fiddlers
for the occasion. However, I must in fairness add
that the committee during the evening withdrew the
taboo they had formerly placed on my writing. I
was free to immortalize them; and my fiddling was
thenceforth a work of supererogation.
High jinks commenced at the early hour of six; and
long before that time we had deposited our instruments
in the Bazaar, as the ball-room is somewhat incongruously
called, and were threading the Daedalean
mazes of the wards. Life in the wards struck me as
being very like living in a passage; but when that
preliminary objection was got over, the long corridors
looked comfortable enough. They were painted in
bright warm colours, and a correspondingly genial
temperature was secured by hot-water pipes running
the entire length. Comfortable rooms opened out
from the wards at frequent intervals, and there was
every form of amusement to beguile the otherwise
irksome leisure of those temporary recluses. Most of
my hermits were smoking - I mean on the male side
- many were reading ; one had a fiddle, and scraped
acquaintance immediately with him ; whilst another
was seated at the door of his snug little bedroom,
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getting up cadenzas on the flute. He was an old
trombone-player in one of the household regiments,
an inmate of Hanwell for thirty years, and a fellow bandsman
with myself for the evening. He looked,
I thought, quite as sane as myself, and played magnificently;
but I was informed by the possibly
prejudiced officials that he had his occasional weaknesses.
A second member of Herr Kuster's band
whom I found in durance was a clarionet-player.
formerly in the band of the Second Life Guards ; and
this poor fellow, who was an excellent musician too,
felt his position acutely. He apologized sotto voce
for sitting down with me in corduroys, as well as for
being an "imbecile." He did not seem to question
the justice of the verdict against him, and had not
become acclimatized to the atmosphere like the old
trombone-player.
That New Year's night - for January was very
young - the wards, especially on the women's side,
were gaily decorated with paper flowers, and all
looked as cheerful and happy as though no shadow
ever fell across the threshold; but, alas, there were
every now and then padded rooms opening out of the
passage; and as this was not a refractory ward, I
asked the meaning of the arrangement, which I had
fancied was an obsolete one. I was told they were
for epileptic patients. In virtue of his official position
as bandmaster, Herr Kuster had a key; and, after
walking serenely into a passage precisely like the
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rest, informed me, with the utmost coolness, that I
was in the refractory ward. I looked around for the
stalwart attendant, who is generally to be seen on
duty, and to my dismay found he was quite at the
other end of an exceedingly long corridor. I do not
know that I am particularly nervous ; but I candidly
confess to an anxiety to get near that worthy official.
We were only three outsiders, and the company
looked mischievous. One gentleman was walking
violently up and down, turning up his coat-sleeves,
as though bent on our instant demolition. Another,
an old grey-bearded man, came up, and fiercely
demanded if I were a Freemason. I was afraid he
might resent my saying I was not, when it happily
occurred to me that the third in our party, an amateur
contra-bassist, was of the craft. I told our old friend
so. He demanded the sign, was satisfied, and, in the
twinkling of an eye, our double-bass friend was
struggling in his fraternal embrace. The warder,
mistaking the character of the hug, hastened to the
rescue, and I was at ease.
We then passed to the ball-room, where my musical
friends were beginning to "tune up," and waiting for
their conductor. The large room was gaily decorated,
and filled with some three or four hundred patients,
arranged Spurgeon-wise : the ladies on one side, and
the gentlemen on the other. There was a somewhat
rakish air about the gathering, due to the fact of the
male portion not being in full dress, but arrayed in
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free-and-easy costume of corduroys and felt boots.
The frequent warders in their dark blue uniforms lent
quite a military air to the scene; and on the ladies'
side the costumes were more picturesque ; some little
latitude was given to feminine taste, and the result was
that a large portion of the patients were gorgeous in
pink gowns. One old lady, who claimed to be a scion
of royalty, had a resplendent mob-cap ; but the belles
of the ball-room were decidedly to be found among
the female attendants, who were bright, fresh-looking
young women, in a neat, black uniform, with perky
little caps, and bunches of keys hanging at their
side like the rosary of a soeur de charité, or the
chatelaines with which young ladies love to adorn
themselves at present. Files of patients kept
streaming into the already crowded room, and
one gentleman, reversing the order assigned to
him by nature, walked gravely in on the palms of
his hands, with his legs elevated in air. He had been
a clown at a theatre, and still retained some of the
proclivities of the boards. A wizen-faced man, who
seemed to have no name beyond the conventional one
of "Billy," strutted in with huge paper collars, like
the corner mail in a nigger troupe, and a tin decoration
on his breast the size of a cheeseplate. He was
insensible to the charms of Terpsichore, except in the
shape of an occasional pas seul, and laboured under
the idea that his mission was to conduct the band,
which he occasionally did, to the discomfiture of Herr
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Kuster, and the total destruction of gravity on the
part of the executants, so that Billy had to be displaced.
It was quite curious to notice the effect of
the music on some of the quieter patients. One or
two, whose countenances really seemed to justify their
incarceration, absolutely hugged the foot of my music-stand,
and would not allow me to hold my instrument
for a moment when I was not playing on it, so
anxious were they to express their admiration of me
as an artist. " I used to play that instrument afore
I come here," said a patient, with a squeaky voice,
who for eleven years has laboured under the idea that
his mother is coming to see him on the morrow;
indeed, most of the little group around the platform
looked upon their temporary sojourn at Hanwell as
the only impediment to a bright career in the musical
world.
Proceedings commenced with the Caledonians, and
it was marvellous to notice the order, not to say grace
and refinement with which these pauper lunatics went
through their parts in the "mazy." The rosy-faced
attendants formed partners for the men, and I saw a
herculean warder gallantly leading along the stout old
lady in the mob-cap. The larger number of the
patients of course were paired with their fellow-prisoners,
and at the top of the room the officials
danced with some of the swells. Yes, there were
swells here, ball-room coxcombs in fustian and felt.
One in particular was pointed out to me as an
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University graduate of high family, and on my inquiring
how such a man became an inmate of a pauper
asylum the offcial said, " You see, sir, when the mind
goes the income often goes too, and the people become
virtually paupers." Insanity is a great leveller, true ;
but I could not help picturing that man's lucid
intervals, and wondering whether his friends might
not do better for him. But there he is, pirouetting
away with the pretty female organist, the chaplain
standing by and smiling approval, and the young
doctors doing the polite to a few invited guests, but
not disdaining, every now and then, to take a turn
with a patient. Quadrilles and Lancers follow, but
no "round dances." A popular prejudice on the part
of the majority sets down such dances as too exciting
for the sensitive dancers. The graduate is excessively
irate at this, and rates the band soundly for not playing
a valse. Galops are played, but not danced; a
complicated movement termed a " Circassian circle"
being substituted in their place. " Three hours of
square dances are really too absurd," said the graduate
to an innocent second fiddle.
In the centre of the room all was gravity and
decorum, but the merriest dances went on in corners.
An Irish quadrille was played, and an unmistakable
Paddy regaled himself with a most beautiful jig. He
got on by himself for a figure or two, when, remembering,
no doubt, that "happiness was born a
twin," he dived into the throng, selected a white-[-45-]headed old friend of some sixty years, and impressed
him with the idea of a pas de deux. There they kept
it up in a corner for the whole of the quadrille,
twirling imaginary shillelaghs, and encouraging one
another with that expressive Irish interjection which
it is so impossible to put down on paper. For an
hour all went merry as the proverbial marriage bell,
and then there was an adjournment of the male
portion of the company to supper. The ladies remained
in the Bazaar and discussed oranges, with an
occasional dance to the pianoforte, as the band retired
for refreshment too, in one of the attendants' rooms.
I followed the company to their supper room, as I
had come to see, not to eat. About four hundred sat
down in a large apartment, and there were, besides,
sundry snug supper-parties in smaller rooms. Each
guest partook of an excellent repast of meat and
vegetables, with a sufficiency of beer and pipes to
follow. The chaplain said a short grace before
supper, and a patient, who must have been a retired
Methodist preacher, improved upon the brief benediction
by a long rambling "asking of a blessing,"
to which nobody paid any attention. Then I passed
up and down the long rows with a courteous official,
who gave me little snatches of the history of some of
the patients. Here was an actor of some note in
his day ; there a barrister ; here again a clergyman ;
here a tradesman recently "gone," " all through the
strikes, sir," he added. The shadow - that most
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in every one of these cases. Being as they are
they could not be in a better place. They have the
best advice they could get even were they - as some
of them claim to be - princes. If they can be cured,
here is the best chance. If not - well, there were
the little dead-house and the quiet cemetery lying
out in the moonlight, and waiting for them when, as
poor maddened Edgar Allen Poe wrote, the " fever
called living," should be "over at last." But who
talks of dying on this one night in all the year when
even that old freemason in the refractory ward war
forgetting, after his own peculiar fashion, the cruel
injustice that kept him out of his twelve thousand a
year and title? Universal merriment is the rule tonight.
Six or seven gentlemen are on their legs at
once making speeches, which are listened to about as
respectfully as the "toast of the evening" at a public
dinner. As many more are singing inharmoniously
different songs ; the fun is getting fast and furious,
perhaps a little too fast and furious, when a readjournment
to the ball-room is proposed, and readily
acceded to, one hoary-headed old flirt remarking to
me as he went by, that he was going to look for his
sweetheart.
A long series of square dances followed, the graduate
waxing more and more fierce at each disappointment
in his anticipated valse, and Billy giving
out every change in the programme like a parish
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clerk, which functionary he resembled in many,
respects. It was universally agreed that this was the
best party that had ever been held in the asylum,
just as the last baby is always the finest in the
family. Certainly the guests all enjoyed themselves.
The stalwart attendants danced more than ever with
a will, the rosy attendants were rosier and nattier
than before, if possible. The mob-cap went whizzing
about on the regal head of its owner down the middle
of tremendous country dances, hands across, set to
partners, and then down again as though it had never
tasted the anxieties of a throne, or learnt by bitter
experience the sorrows of exile. Even the academical
gentleman relaxed to the fair organist, though he
stuck up his hair stiffer than ever, and stamped his
felt boots again as he passed the unoffending double-bass
with curses both loud and deep on the subject
of square dances. At length came the inevitable
"God Save the Queen," which was played in one key
by the orchestra, and sung in a great many different
ones by the guests. It is no disrespect to Her Majesty
to say that the National Anthem was received
with anything but satisfaction. It was the signal
that the "jinks" were over, and that was quite enough
to make it unpopular. However, they sang lustily
and with a good courage, all except the old woman
in the mob-cap, who sat with a complacent smile as
much as to say, "This is as it should be, I appreciate
the honour done to my royal brothers and sisters."
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This is the bright side of the picture ; but it had its
sombre tints also. There were those in all the wards
who stood aloof from the merriment, and would have
none of the jinks. Lean-visaged men walked moodily
up and down the like caged wild beasts.
Their lucid interval was upon them, and they fretted
at the irksome restraint and degrading companionship.
It was a strange thought; but I fancied they
must have longed for their mad fit as the drunkard
longs for the intoxicating draught, or the opium-eater
for his delicious narcotic to drown the idea of
the present. There were those in the ball-room itself
who, if you approached them with the proffered pinch
of snuff, drove you from them with curses. One fine,
intellectual man, sat by the window all the evening,
writing rhapsodies of the most extraordinary character,
and fancying himself a poet. Another wrapped
round a thin piece of lath with paper, and superscribed
it with some strange hieroglyphics, begging
me to deliver it. All made arrangements for their
speedy departure from Hanwell, though many in
that heart-sick tone which spoke of long-deferred
hope - hope never perhaps to be realized. Most
painful sight of all, there was one little girl there,
a child of eleven or twelve years - a child in a
lunatic asylum! Think of that, parents, when you
listen to the engaging nonsense of your little ones - think
of the child in Hanwell wards! Remember
how narrow a line separates innocence from idiocy;
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so narrow a line that the words were once synonymous!
Then there was the infirmary full of occupants on
that merry New Year's night. Yonder poor patient
being wheeled in a chair to bed will not trouble his
attendant long. There is another being lifted on his
pallet-bed, and having a cup of cooling drink applied
to his parched lips by the great loving hands of a
warder who tends him as gently as a woman. It
seemed almost a cruel kindness to be trying to keep
that poor body and soul together.
Another hour, rapidly passed in the liberal hospitality
of this great institution, and silence had fallen
on its congregated thousands. It is a small town in
itself, and to a large extent self-dependent and self-governed.
It bakes and brews, and makes its gas;
and there is no need of a Licensing Bill to keep its
inhabitants sober and steady. The method of doing
that has been discovered in nature's own law of kindness.
Instead of being chained and treated as wild
beasts, the lunatics are treated as unfortunate men
and women, and every effort is made to ameliorate,
both physically and morally, their sad condition.
Hence the bright wards, the buxom attendants, the
frequent jinks. Even the chapel-service has been
brightened up for their behoof.
This was what I saw by entering as an amateur
fiddler Herr Kuster's band at Hanwell Asylum; and
as I ran to catch the last up-train - which I did as
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the saying is by the skin of my teeth - I felt that I
was a wiser, though it may be a sadder man, for my
evening's experiences at the Lunatic Ball.
One question would keep recurring to my mind.
It has been said that if you stop your ears in a ballroom,
and then look at the people - reputed sane - skipping
about in the new valse or the last galop,
you will imagine they must be all lunatics. I did
not stop my ears that night, but I opened my eyes
and saw hundreds of my fellow-creatures, all with
some strange delusions, many with ferocious and
vicious propensities, yet all kept in order by a few
warders, a handful of girls, and all behaving as decorously
as in a real ball-room. And the question
which would haunt me all the way home was, which
are the sane people, and which the lunatics ?