Scene X.—
Corridor in a Mad-House.
Wife of the Mad-House Doctor
(
with a bunch
of keys, followed by Orval).
No, I think not, Sir. They tell me there is no
hope of the lady's recovery. Poor thing! I am
grieved that my husband is not here. It would
have given him the greatest satisfaction to have the
honour of waiting on your worship. He could
have explained to you, better than I, the nature of
this malady. Interesting case. My husband, Sir,
has been very successful in the treatment of this
kind of insanity. He has given much study to the
subject. Perhaps you have read his book upon the
Brain? 'Tis much admired. But the worst cases—
cases like this, I fear, are quite incurable. Quite.
This way, if you please, Sir. You won't mind the
noise? There is no danger. 'Tis only Howling
Tom. A violent case, very. But we keep him
chained. The lady, poor dear, is quiet enough.
Pray, Sir, observe the view from that window. The
finest in this part of the country. Indeed, we are
very healthily situated. But the establishment is
large, Sir. Large, dear me, and costs a deal to keep
up. And so little encouragement! One year we
accommodated no less than four hundred lunatics, and
not a sixpence from Government. Some of them
paupers, too. For the Parish obliges us to receive
them. But that sort of patients seldom lives long.
Which is the Lord's mercy. To be sure, one makes
something, when the season is good, by the gardens
and orchards. Our pears are especially successful.
Some of our patients are vastly fond of gardening,
Sir. And we occupy them that way. Only the
milder sort, of course. Bless your heart, there's a
young man here that is a smart hand at pruning wall
fruit. Yet for all that, he will swear you by St
Christopher that he is a king's bastard. But there's
no harm in him. Pray, Sir, is it true that the lady's
husband ran away in the night with another gentleman's
lady? Well, I dare say, if the lady had been
married as long as I—and that's full thirty years;
thirty years, Sir, come next Lady-day—she would
not have taken it so mightily to heart. In truth, she
looks but a child. This is a strange world. Is it not,
Sir? The gallery to the right, if you please. We
have been thin, very thin, this year. But perhaps we
shall do better by and by. Let us all hope for the
best. That's what I say, Sir. And the Lord be
bountiful to them that deserve it. Now, Sir. This
way.
(
Exeunt.)
