University of Virginia Library

1. I.
MR. JERVEY'S PART OF THE STORY.

“I AM one of the keepers at the Asylum, you know.

“The Asylum stands on a hill; not much of a
hill, either, but just a pretty elevation of ground, with a
noble lawn sloping down to the river-bank, from which it
is separated by a high board fence. None of your commonplace
fences, understand, such as seem often to have
no other use than just to spoil a landscape. You would
say that, as a general thing, a fence like that about an
estate must be designed for keeping people out. This,
though, was meant to keep people in. The people, in
our case, are the inmates of the Asylum.” And Mr. Jervey
touched his forehead significantly.

“There was a wicket in the fence, that opened into a
boat-house, that opened at the other end on to the water.
There the doctor kept his boat, in which we gave the
patients many a fine row and sail. For he was one of
your right-down sensible, kind-hearted doctors; none of
your — Well, I won't draw comparisons, for fear I may be
considered wanting in respect toward his very worthy successor.

“He — I mean the old doctor — believed in the wholesome
influence of kindness and change of scene and mild
recreation on his patients. So he was always thinking of

little things that would cheer and amuse them. Saturday
nights, and occasionally at other times, the boat-house was
turned into a bathing-house for a certain class of patients.
Of course it was only a certain class that could be trusted
either to go on or into the water. `It always has
a good effect to trust those that can be trusted,' says
the doctor. Then, you know, the boat and the bath, and
all such things, worked well, held out as rewards for
good behavior.

“One Sunday morning, a new patient we had just got in
complained to me that he had been promised a swim in
the river, but that nothing had been said to him when the
others went in the night before. He was so very anxious
for his bath that morning, that I thought 't would do no
harm to lay his case before the doctor.

“`What do you think of him, Jervey?' says the doctor.

“`Very quiet, very gentlemanly,' says I.

“`Bring him to me,' says the doctor.

“So I went and brought Mr. Hillbright, — for that was
the man's name, — and introduced him with the little formality
usually pleasing to that kind of people.

“`Mr. Hillbright, Doctor,' says I.

“`Ah! good morning, Mr. Hillbright,' says the doctor.
`How are you this morning?'

“`Very well indeed, Doctor, I thank you kindly,' says
the patient. He was a man of about five-and-forty, well
dressed, and very gentlemanly, as I have said; belonged to
a good family; rather fleshy; a little bald on the top of
his head; but with nothing very peculiar in his appearance
except a quick way of speaking, and a quick way of dropping
his eyes before you every now and then. `Very well
indeed, Doctor,' says he; `only the sins of the world weigh
upon me very heavily, as you are aware.' And in the most
solemn manner he bowed that bald-topped head of his until

the doctor, where he sat, could have reached up and written
his name on it.

“`O yes, I know,' says the doctor. `They weigh upon
me too. But we shall get rid of the burden in good time,
— all in good time, Mr. Hillbright.'

“That was the doctor's style of managing patients of
this sort. It did no good to contradict them, he said, but
if you could convince one that his case was n't peculiar,
that others had had similar troubles and been cured of
'em, that was the first step toward bringing him around
to his right senses. So, if one complained that he had a
devil, the doctor would very likely relate to him in confidence
how he had had a much bigger devil, and how he
had got rid of him. `I 'm in hell! I 'm in hell, Doctor!'
says a woman to him. `I don't doubt it; a great many
people are,' says the doctor; `I have been there myself.'
And that would usually throw cold water on the fire sooner
than anything.

“Hillbright was quite taken aback by the doctor's candid
admission and expression of sympathy; for I suppose he
had never been treated with anything but contradiction
and argument till he came to us. But he rallied in a
minute and said, glib as a parrot, `I have taken the
sins of the world,' says he, `and I must bear them till
I am permited to preach and convert the world. Meanwhile
the world hates me, and all I can do for my relief
is to go down into the river and be baptized. I
need n't explain to a philosopher like you,' says he, bowing
again to the doctor, `that some of the sins will wash
off.'

“The doctor approved of the idea, and said: `Jervey,'
says he, `always have a bath-tub at Mr. Hillbright's disposal.'

“`A bath-tub?' says Hillbright, with a sort of sorrowful

amazement; `the sins of the world in a bath-tub? The
ocean would n't hold them!'

“`Jervey,' says the doctor, `give the sins of the world
a good plunge into the river this morning.'

“So I took the key of the boat-house and went down
with my man to the shore.

“He had n't been long in the water when he made an
awful discovery. The sins would n't wash off! He must
have soap, and there was only one sort that would serve
his purpose. He said I would find a cake of it on the little
table in his room, and begged me to go and get it.

“I did n't like to lose sight of him; but the doctor had
told me always to humor his patients in trifling matters
which they considered important. `For even if we can't
cure 'em,' says he, `we can at least make 'em comfortable';
and going for a cake of soap was so little trouble, and besides,
as I said, Hillbright was such a quiet, respectable,
gentlemanly person, I thought him safe, especially if I
kept possession of his clothes. They were in the boat-house
locker, where I always kept the clothes of the bathers;
so I just turned the key on 'em and went for the
soap, leaving Mr. Hillbright to give the sins of the world a
good soaking till I came back.

“I had a pretty good hunt, finding nothing on his table
but a small pocket Bible, about the size and shape of the
thing I expected to find, but not the thing itself. It occurred
to me in a minute, though, that this was really
what the man wanted; for where else was the kind of
soap that would wash away the sins of the world? I
grinned a little at my own previous simplicity, but determined
that nobody else should have a chance to grin at
it, least of all my man in the water; so I took the Bible,
and says I to myself, `I 'll hand it to him as if it was
actually a cake of soap, and I had understood his subtle

meaning from the first; and then see what he will do
with it.'

“I unlocked the little door in the fence, and entered the
boat-house, and was immediately struck by an odd look it
had, as if something strange had taken place in my absence.
The boat — yes, that was it — the boat was gone! I ran
along the narrow side of the platform to the door opening
on the river, and looked out, — about as anxiously as I
ever looked out of a door in my life: there was the river,
running smoothly, and looking as innocent of the sins of
the world, and the morning was looking as still and lovely,
as any river or any Sunday morning that ever you saw.
But there was no boat and no Hillbright to be seen;
boat, Hillbright, sins of the world, all had disappeared
together.

“I ran back to the locker, and found the man's clothes
all right. My respectable, gentlemanly patient had
launched himself into society in a surprising state of
nature, — a thing I had n't for a moment believed him
capable of doing, he was always so very distant, I may
say formal, in his deportment. What with his mystical
cake of soap, and his running away as soon as I was out
of sight, I own he had fooled me most completely.

“Now, I lay it down as a general principle that nobody
likes to be taken in, even by a man in his senses. Still
less do you fancy that sort of humiliation from a man out
of his senses. Then put the case of a person in my position,
— a keeper, supposed to have more experience and
wit in dealing with the insane than you outsiders can have,
— and you perceive how very crushing a circumstance it
must have been to me.

“I ran like a deer down the river-bank, till I came to
the bend, around which I felt sure of getting a sight of the
boat. I was right there; I found the boat, but it was

adrift, and going down with the current, without anybody
aboard. There was no Hillbright to be seen, afloat or
ashore, and it was n't possible to tell which way he had
gone, for the high fence had concealed his movements, and
then the river-banks below were fringed with trees and
bushes on both sides. So all I could do was to hurry back
to the house, give the alarm, and get all hands out on the
hunt for him, that fine Sunday morning.”

Thus far our friend Jervey.