Below is a transcript of an inmate's account of time spent at Woogaroo Lunatic Asylum as supplied to Queensland Times by Thomas White, who identifies himself as a shepherd at Cressbrook. The article was published in the Queensland Times on 9th February, The Brisbane Courier on 10th February (it is this edition on which my transcript below is based), The Queenslander on 13th February and Maryborough Chronicle, Wide Bay and Burnett Advertiser on 16th February.
This is part of a series publishing primary source documents relating to Woogaroo from 1865 to 1901. In part it was letters like this that sparked an inquiry into the operation of the Asylum in 1869. Specifically White mentions the letters of ‘De-facto’ and ‘H.K.’ in his correspondence with the paper. Both of these will be published in this blog when I have finished tidying the text.
The Queensland Times commended the White article on page 2 of the paper, I include this commendation from the paper at the beginning.
At the end of this rather long article I have added a response from the local Congregational Minister, William Draper, confirming some of what is said in White's letter.
There were some terms I was unfamiliar with in this text and I highlight these below, in case my readers are equally unfamiliar with them.
‘Yclept’ - means ‘in the name of’. It appears in the phrase ‘I think it was a literary gent, yclept Greenwood, in London’, and I take it to mean the Greenwood was the pseudonym he used.
“Holy-stone the passage” Holy-stone was a soft, brittle sandstone used to scrub decks aboard ships. The probable use of the word ‘holy’ comes from the activity being done on the knees, like prayer. According to Wikipedia, holy-stoning “was part of Queen Victoria's regulations for British-owned Emigration vessels in 1848.”
The cloth Osnaburgh - described in Wikipedia as a flax based course fabric, used for the clothes of slaves in the US. So named for the German town in which it was first made. Probably right to think of it as a light canvas.
Augean Stable - this is a reference to one of the trials of Hercules in Greek mythology. The King Augeas had a stable with 3000 oxen that had not been cleaned in 30 years. So the use of the term here indicates that other voices need to be added to the record to achieve the Herculean task of fixing the way in which the asylum is run.
Commendation from the Queensland Times editors.
We are not aware what progress has yet been made in the investigation already ordered by the Government respecting the establishment at Woogaroo; but we trust the paper signed "THOMAS WHITE," which appears in another column does not come too late. The writer called upon us on the evening of the day on which he was discharged from the asylum, and we were much struck with his intelligence and seeming honesty. His manner was excited, but it appeared to be the excitement of a naturally nervous temperament — not of mental disorder. He appeared extremely anxious to do something to expose what he considered the horrors of the place he had just left — not in any spirit of vindictiveness or for the sake of gaining notoriety, but only in the hope of doing good. It is no doubt impossible to read with certainty the inner thoughts of a man, but, from what we saw and heard — and we listened to him for more than an hour — the conviction was forced upon us that, although he might perhaps be a little hasty in coming to some of his conclusions, and, in his eagerness to convince, be tempted to exaggerate in some particulars, still his story as a whole was that of an honest humane man sincerely sympathising with his unhappy fellow-creatures, and wishing to deliver them from the cruelties under which he considered they were suffering. The letter, to a great extent, speaks for itself. To say nothing of the ability displayed by the writer, there is an air of candour, an earnestness, and a simplicity about it that are irresistible. Though a shepherd, THOMAS WHITE is evidently one of Nature's gentle-men, and, in a private note to us, he shows that he possesses that modesty which is one of the distinguishing features of the order. He expresses doubts as to whether his communication will be considered worth publishing. "I have written," he says, "at great disadvantage. I have no spectacles to write at night, and, writing in the day time under trees, I have got to make starts now and again after my sheep, which just plays the deuce with composition. I have been forced to, as it were, work backwards round a corner to revert to some passage left incomplete. I have done the best I could, but I am not vain enough now to make sure that you will accept it for publication. I would thank you, if it is not unusual, if you do not publish it, to hand it over to Dr. CHALLINOR to be laid before any commission that may be appointed. I am not such a gowk as to ask you to publish as a favour to me, but I hope you will think with me that it is for the public good." We think it possible that it may be so, and therefore insert it, feeling sure, moreover, that it will not be found tire-some reading. The writer further says —" I thought it the duty of any man that had been in Woogaroo to make the management known. It is only ex-patients that can do so: an enquiry is of no use unless they are the persons examined. Their shame to own being there has kept it as it is." It is easy to see that there may be a very great deal in these last words. We know how it happens that a certain class of unfortunates, all over the world, are robbed (and perhaps murdered) with impunity by a particular class of quacks. They calculate on the "shame " of their victims. The managers of a Lunatic Asylum might act on the same principle. If the hundredth part of what THOMAS WHITE says is true-and we believe it is — then the committal to Woogaroo "for medical treatment" is certainly the most absurd farce out. Medical treatment means, we suppose, curative treatment; and, according to universal testimony, if scrubbed floors and whitewashed walls are the best cure for diseased minds, they have enough of it at our Asylum. There may be more than this however: we hope there is.
EIGHT WEEKS IN WOOGAROO.
(by an ex-patient.)
The following painfully interesting narrative of an eight weeks confinement in the place at Woogaroo, misnamed an "asylum," is published in yesterday's Queensland Times. It bears the stamp of truth, and its perusal will create a feeling in the public mind that will not be satisfied with any half-and-half measures, either in the way of investigation of past transactions and the present condition of the place, or in regard to the system of treatment to be carried into effect there in the future. The institution is now in Mr. Hodgson's department, and we trust that he will not suffer himself to be trammelled by the action taken in the matter by his predecessor in office, if he thinks that action was not as thorough and rigorous as the circumstances of the case seem to demand :—
I think it was a literary gent, yclept Greenwood, in London, that spent a night in disguise as a casual in the casual ward of one of the workhouses on purpose to find matter for a sensational article in the papers.
I wish he were out here, he might with very little trouble get admission to Woogaroo, gratify his own peculiar taste, and make the public acquainted with all the mystery of that establishment.
There is about, I think, 140 or more patients there, and several of them are quite as sane as the general run of working men. I do think it is not quite right that two doctors should have the power to confine a man for his natural life although his intellect may not be quite so clear as theirs.
No man gets sent to Woogaroo if he is behaving properly, but let a man have a touch of delirium tremens ever so slight, and a doctor swears that he thinks it necessary that he should be sent to gaol for medical treatment. Now let me show the public, through your columns, what this medical treatment is.
I had earned a heavy check out north; I spent it before I reached Rockhampton, and from the bench in that town got sent to Woogaroo.
Long enough before the steamer reached Maryborough, I was as well as ever I was in my life, both mentally and physically. I thought of asking the visiting doctor at Brisbane Gaol to release me, but I was told it was no use as my warrant was addressed to the surgeon-superintendent at Woogaroo. When I got there I had a large bundle with me, consisting of new white blankets, flannels, and shirts, necessary for a bushman's wear; combs, ration bags, turkey-stone, and a great many little things of no intrinsic value, but still things that a man looking for employment cannot well do without. A very genteel looking young man received me at the wharf (there were four of us there from Rockhampton). I took him from his appearance, to be clerk to the establishment, but to my surprise he was chief warder, although his appearance would tell that he could have had no experience in keeping a large body of men in close quarters as clean as they ought to be. Such a duty requires an old soldier — man of-war's man, or even convict men. (Some of them that are alive have reclaimed their character. ) At all events, it wants a man for chief warder that has had some experience with large bodies of men.
On my arrival I was searched, and everything taken away. We were all four then shown into a large yard, where there was, I think, about seventy or eighty men in different stages of madness, the door shut behind us, and there is no place on this earth where Dante's inscription over the gates of a place unmentionable would be more appropriate. Some are singing, some praying, many rushing up to see the new arrivals.
We are received into the yard by two warders, and shown up to the further end, where stand three washing tubs half full of dirty water, and a number of lunatics washing their feet; the day has been hot, the yard is muddy, and they are nearly all without boots. One warder has some clean shirts and trousers on his arm; he orders us to strip and get into the tub; I object, as the water is filthy; this warder in a more decided tone orders me to strip, and two powerful lunatics (who are evidently there to assist the warders) seize one of my companions and begin to undress him. Well, I strip, get into the dirty water, make a show of washing myself, and out again, and dress in the clothing given me as soon as possible. These three tubs are all the convenience that those in this yard have for washing their persons; fresh water is put in once a day. I expected to be called out during the evening and my sanity tested by an examination of some sort that might probably end in my discharge, but I learned afterwards that men came there as sane as me, and the release they got was their coffin. That night I was put to sleep in a room with fifteen or sixteen more lunatics, but sleep was out of the question.
Men that are slightly affected with delirium tremens, or any other delusion they may be labouring under, are put into Woogaroo as it is now, and their madness is confirmed; those are the men that refuse to eat, and die off.
On the following morning I was put in another yard where the men appeared more rational. I entered into conversation with many of them — one a Mr. C, a painter, told me that he had been there ten months; he said he had been slightly affected with sunstroke, that he had been in about a week, but the doctor refused to let him go, that he had no hope, and expected to die there. Many of them appeared to me quite sane, some had been there three years, some two, some eighteen months, and so on, they laughed at me when I said I expected to be released that day, and said I would be lucky if I was released with life.
I anxiously waited for the doctor's visit; but when he came he walked through the yard, taking no more notice of me than anybody else. I stepped up to him and told him respectfully that I had been only slightly affected with delirium tremens, which effect was now quite removed, and hoped that he would not think it necessary to keep me. His answer was, "Delirium tremens! Ah, delirium tremens! We have quite enough of that here." From that day he never spoke to me, though I applied persistently for my release every time I saw him, he would not condescend to answer me even with a monosyllable. At the end of three weeks he told me if I had a friend or employer that would make application for my release he would let me go. I told him I had no friends, and all my late employers were far north, and could not be expected to take any trouble about me. I had formerly (some years since) lived on the Downs, but the persons that used to be my employers there had all left the colony except one. He persuaded me to write to him, and if he would employ me I should be released. I wrote to his brother, because he resided near and could see me at once, to judge for himself regarding my sanity, but if he got the letter I heard no more of it.
When conversing with me on this occasion he asked some questions regarding my antecedents. I mentioned several ways that I had been employed in the colonies at one time and another, but he appeared not to credit me; he turned round and left me abruptly. The Mr. C. — the patient I have before alluded to — overheard the conversation, as he was immediately outside the window where the doctor stood with me. Mr. C. says, " Why, you have ruined yourself; you will be kept here like me." "How is that?" "Why he takes all you have said about antecedents as a delusion."And I think Mr. C. was right, for from that day the doctor never spoke to me, though I troubled him every time I saw him. But relief was coming. (Oh! the glorious press! All the good it does is never known, because is its principal good is in preventing evil and injustice, and this passive prevention is never placed on record.)
That lion, the press, began to growl about Woogaroo. The first article, I think, appeared on the 24th November, refusing to insert "Justice's" letter because it was not authenticated, but, if that letter were true, admitting the necessity for inquiry.
On Thursday, the 26th November, I had not to wait for the doctor's usual visit. I was called out of the prison early in the morning and shown into his office, and this gentleman, who for seven weeks would not deign to answer me by one single word, told me to take a seat, and conversed with me in a friendly and affable style. (Oh, the glorious press!). He told me he would send for my discharge, said that he really thought I had no business to be sent there, but that it must take him some time to judge my case. I said that I thought he had me quite long enough to test my sanity, but release was better late than never. He said he had to send to Brisbane for my discharge, which would be up in a few days. On the 4th day of December I was discharged; also another patient who had been quite sane all the time I was there. This man was employed as cook, and had been so for some time, although the establishment is allowed a free salaried cook; however, this patient was kept at the prison in that capacity.
On leaving I wanted my swag returned, but was told my good blankets were used up in the asylum. This was false : my blankets were white. I was employed every morning in assisting to fold neatly the bedding, and there were no blankets like mine in use in the building. My turkey-stone I had seen used by a warder sharpening razors; my combs I had seen in a small cell-like place, where there were four wash hand basins and four ewers, and where a favored few were allowed to wash themselves; my Crimean shirts and flannels I saw on the backs of other patients — good working men that were bidable to the chief warder. However, I had been cautioned by a patient that I thought sane to say nothing if I got none of my swag, as he had been there nearly three years, and had known two patients sent back when going out, as they were pronounced abusive, worse in their mind, and unfit to go.
One of them had no friend, and died there, the wife of the other lived in Brisbane, and her husband not coming, she came after him, and succeeded in getting him out. I do not vouch for the truth of this; it is told me, and I think it likely.
I got a pair of indifferent grey blankets, such as a bushman would be ashamed to carry if he could help it. Well — thanks to the press — I was discharged. I saw in that day's Courier, a letter of Mr Draper's, on Woogaroo; I saw " De Facto' s " letter, and in a former paper, the letter of "H. K." "De Facto" says "H. K." knows very little about what he writes. Perhaps so, but I think "H. K. " and I both know about the place a great deal more than we ever wished. Had it been God's will, I think we would both have been satisfied if we had known nothing about it.
Of course there is no comparison between the knowledge on the subject of "De Facto" and "H. K." "H. K." is an educated, sensitive gentleman who was there involuntarily; "De Facto" received a good salary from the place as a warder. If he was privy to the neglect he speaks of, causing the death of so many, why not make it known, or conscientiously give up his situation long ago?
However, I think the truth so stated — that it proves itself — is sufficient, and little as I may know, or little notice as will be taken of ex-patients, I will show the management of this place truly and without any vindictive prejudice. I do not think the surgeon-superintendent's choice would have been much better had he appointed either me or "De Facto" chief warder.
I write under the shade of a tree, with a flock of sheep in front of me. I envy no man his office, but I will try and show, let who will suffer, that the place — Woogaroo — is not what either the Government or the public think it is, or ought to be, and this solely for the benefit of the poor wretches there confined. Any person that has been in Woogaroo is naturally delicate in owning it through the press. But the interior of Woogaroo will never be known without it(sic) is known from ex-patients or ex-warders; those that at present live by the institution are sure to laud it to highest pitch. I know men who have been there for a time — intellectual men — that are able to write on that or any other subject, but delicacy keeps them silent; it might also injure them in their occupation, for the stigma of being once mad is no trifle. There is a Mr. B., a well paid clerk in the Civil Service; a Mr. C., a solicitor, a Mr. C., a painter, a Mr. W., a digger at Gympie, a Mr. R., a person who was once in the Civil Service of the Government in India as an engineer; this last was eighteen months in Woogaroo, and by all accounts would have died there had his brother not come and procured his release. A warder has told me that he was not insane, had no business to be there so long; only that on one occasion, when the doctor refused to speak to him in reply to a question put, he (the patient) called him a d—d old quack; that is stated as the reason of his long detention. Now is the time for all those gentlemen, and others, to say their say. Surely gratitude to the man who, in the hands of God, was the means of restoring their senses will make them brave the stigma of publicity.
A certain member of Parliament visited Woogaroo one day while I was there; in his presence I renewed my application for discharge. Without knowing anything of my antecedents or nature of my affliction, if any, he told me I ought to think myself well of, and thankful to a humane Government that provided so well for me. Now, this same member of Parliament means moving in the House something respecting the Polynesians, and has advertised through the press for those that can state anything on that delicate matter to send him their address. Any member that will move for an inquiry into the management of Woogaroo let him give notice to ex-patients and he may get at the truth. But while this member was on his visit to Woogaroo he might have seen one Polynesian there a prisoner for his life that is not insane nor committed any offence. The poor follow is only subject to severe convulsive fits, consequently an incumbrance to an employer, so that he is well off his owner's hands. He would need to break through some statute to get him into gaol; then the period would be definite — he would get out — and the incumbrance would return to his master; but in Woogaroo he is safe not to trouble anybody — his stay there is indefinite; indeed I do not see how the surgeon-superintendent could certify to his sanity when he can hold no converse with him.
There are numbers of Chinamen, Germans, and others that cannot speak English; the doctor cannot converse with them; and what can he know of their sanity or insanity? How it ever was proved that they are insane to send them there beats me. However, that is proved, seemingly, and no fear of anyone wanting to prove otherwise, unless there is a most searching investigation.
If I had had the means of present maintenance on leaving Woogaroo, I certainly should have seen Mr. Brookes about the Polynesian I have mentioned. Woogaroo is not, properly speaking, a lunatic asylum; it is what the Rev. Mr. Draper calls it, a gaol, and its inmates close prisoners without relaxation; and worse than any gaol, for it is outside the rule of the sheriff. There is nothing to be hoped for from judges or jury the sentence is life; for if your mind is not so affected as to justify your detention, time — a hopeless time spent there — is sure to make it so. All depends upon the will or caprice of one man; and it is utterly impossible for one man to attend to so many mentally and physi-cally. There are many confined there that in common humanity never should have been. There are two decrepit old men there from Dunwich, whose only offence is insolence to the well-paid officers there. There is one little Asiatic imported here by a rich Burnett squatter, who was as insane the day he landed as he is now; still, he has shepherded and been a good shepherd for nearly twenty years. He never drank anything, and I think the money he saved in that time * * *. I also think there is a case or two similar to the case of the man Melville, whose case caused a rigid inquiry some few years ago respecting the management of Tarban Creek.
A philanthropic visitor may visit Woogaroo and see the patients cricketing, and see the walls and passages and rooms very clean, and at this surface glimpse pronounce everything admirable. Mind not the lunatic cricketers; they are only fielding to assist in the manual exercise of agile warder cricketers, to relieve the monotony of their lives as mad-house keepers.
Come with me inside. The doors are opened at sunrise, and the patients counted out into the yards used for their recreation (!). A number of them, when the muster is concluded, go in again to fold up bedding, mop out rooms, and holy-stone passages; all the others walk the yard, which is about twelve feet high, of sawn boards.
About three mornings in the week the chief warder comes into the yard with a large black jug full of salts and senna; every patient is forced to drink a pint pot full of this mixture; no remonstrance respecting the state of his internals will exempt him. I have seen patients thrown on their backs, and foolish attempts made to force the mess down their throats; though a man ought to know that nothing can be got into the stomach by that means, but if they do not get it inside they get it out, and over their clothing.
The building consists of two flats — eight rooms on each flat. All the top flat is used as bed-rooms, and some of the rooms on the lower floor. The largest rooms above and below are the four rooms in the four corners of the building; those eight rooms are about twenty-five feet by thirty. The four upper rooms on the lower floor are used as mess-rooms for the patients, and one smaller one as a mess-room for warders, who are supposed to live on the same ration and same preparing as the patients, but that is fiction.
I think it is about half-past 7 they go into breakfast. For the whole of the men in the refractory yard there is only one mess-room. Breakfast consists of hominy, bread, about six ounces, and what is called tea, but very often tastes of neither tea nor sugar — the bread is indifferent, and always very stale — the hominy is not clean; you can always see a something in it, the remains of what was cooked in the copper on the previous day. Some days (two in the week) it is for dinner meat hashed with potatoes. The remains of this hash can always be found through the hominy on the succeeding morning. But the chief warder pays more attention to the cleanliness of walls and passages — visitors see them — than he does to the cook-house coppers — but while I was there the cooks were lunatics, and so not accountable. We are locked up every meal. After breakfast all hands are let out again, and pace the yard till dinner time (some help to clean the rooms and passages). In the hottest days in the year they pace the yard without shade — they cannot get inside, for the rooms are being mopped out, and that work is never completed till about 10 o'clock. In the refractory yard there is a shade in the centre, but it is no size — it and their mess-room is not sufficient to shelter the number of men from either rain or sun.
For ablutions there are three tubs in one yard, and one in the other (the usual síze of washing tubs), and the water changed about once a day, about a yard and a-half of Osnaburgh hangs against the wall for a towel for the use of the whole of the men. From the day I went in to the day I came out the towel was never washed, except in the usual tub by some patient more cleanly disposed than the rest. The men promenade the yard, or get such shelter from the sun as the twelve foot fence gives; and in the refractory yard, very few of them have either boots or hats. Perhaps that is no one's fault, it is just possible they will not wear them, but I do not know; at all events, all the late arrivals, men whose first summer it is there, have the skin burned off their feet from where the trousers touch the instep down to the toes by the heat of the sun's rays. After the rooms and passages are cleaned they can go inside and walk in the room, but there is no reading, not a book to be got without repeated appeals to the chief warder, and if you do get one it is some petty thing — there is nothing to occupy the mind. There are two chequer-boards but no men, they make men with brass and wood buttons; there is some old dirty cards but not sufficient in the whole to make a pack. I have seen the chief warder of an evening bring in a clean pack, and with another warder make up a whist party, but as soon as he is sufficiently amused he lays them up again and takes them away in his pocket.
The men walk the yard and rooms till dinner-time, when they are again locked up, and to two of the rooms the meat and potatoes are brought on plates, in the other two rooms the joint comes in, and a warder stands and carves it and serves it out. In those two rooms the patients are allowed blunt knives and forks. Each patient I think got quite enough food. In the evening they get tea and a piece of bread same size as in the morning. The potatoes that are issued at dinner-time are not good, they are scarcely eatable, except on the days that they are hashed with the meat. I have assisted in bringing potatoes from the wharf when landed from the steamer, I have seen bags opened, and the quality appeared far better than ever I saw come to the table. Are they picked after they are received? The contractor may not be so much to blame after all. I was a week in Brisbane gaol on my way to Woogaroo. Let me show how much better a man would be there. The bread was of the best quality, tea very fair (far superior to Woogaroo) meat not in such abundance, but positively cleanly cooked, the hominy, each man's share taken in a small dish by itself from the cook-house. Now in Woogaroo all the hominy for one room came in on one dish, and it was not very nice to see a number of lunatics all employed at one time in baling it out with their spoons into smaller plates or dishes which they had in their hands. In Brisbane gaol a man can stretch himself in a bath about seven foot long and two and a half deep, and turn a cock and let the water run and luxuriate there as long as he likes, and at any time of the day he pleases, while in Woogaroo there is only the dirty washing tub in which I have seen. In every cell in Brisbane Gaol there is plenty of literature (I don't know how obtained), All the Year Round, Household Words, Leisure Hour, and other periodicals, and plenty of all sorts of reading. ln Woogaroo there is no reading, except a book on Sunday that you might have had on the previous Sunday. Then such is the order about it that you must not put it out of your hand till you return it to the chief warder. In Brisbane Gaol if a man's own mind will let him sleep he may — he has the cell to himself, but in Woogaroo lunatics are packed as close as they can be in the room, and many of them talk and walk all night. This is just a slight contrast between the treatment of the criminal and the man who has committed no crime.
When I went there, in the beginning of October, the candles were lit for about half-an-hour in the rooms at night, but as the latter end of November wore on we used to be locked up in the bedrooms as soon as the sun went down. All the rooms in the building have got heavy iron bars, one inch in diameter, in the windows, so close that you can barely pass your hand between them; all your clothing is branded with the Crown, and the letters L. A. on leaving. I had a flannel with me so branded; I could not afford to throw it away, so I made up my mind to put an M. before the L. A., and tell any impertinent person that asked any questions that I was a member of the Legislative Assembly on my way to the interior to procure practical knowledge, so as to be able to speak from personal experience on the Squatters' Relief Bill about to be introduced. (Pray don't think me mad if I pass a joke.)
Those patients that do not sleep never got an opiate, though such a thing might do them good. One young man in the room I slept in never had his boots off (except when washing his whole person and changing his clothes once a week) all the time I was there. This young man came out a cabin passenger, I think, in the Australian. He is evidently well educated; his friends live at Spalding, in Lincolnshire, Eng-land; his name is Totham; he has not slept two consecutive hours since he has been there, if all the time was spent as during the seven weeks he was in the room with me. Now what does medical aid do for this man? give him salts and senna. One day in Woogaroo is much the same as another.
But come with me to the hospital where the men die. Well, the place used as an hospital is three cells that have had the two partitions knocked out, making three into one room, which in the clear is about 20 feet by 10. The walls are 12 feet high — the wall-plates being just the height of the fence that goes round the yard.
Its wall is about 10 or 12 feet from the end of the main building, so that the large building quite overhangs it. On the other side of it there is a hearily-topped tree, so that, between the tree and the building, a breath of air never reaches it. Its ventilation is by spaces over the doors (it has a door at side and end), but these spaces are so thickly studded with iron bars that the wind can scarcely pass between them. Such a place for an hospital! (But in the refractory yard there are three cells with a bundle of straw in each; they have a refractory patient in each of them nightly, and they are alongside the water-closet, and abutting over the cesspool.) I never saw less than three, nor more than five, patients at a time in this hospital, and they evidently came there to die; I never saw one leave it, except in his coffin. While I was in Woogaroo the rate of deaths was about one out of three per annum, or one a week out of less than 150. The beds in this place are on two boards nailed together, with a cross-piece that raises them about two inches from the floor (it is such boards that are used for beds all through the place, except in one room where there are a favored few on good iron bedsteads), so that those poor fellows' beds are about on a level with their foot, and they at last get so weak that they cannot get up or down without more exertion than they are able to use. In trying to get down to recline they often go heavily on their faces on the hard boards. They have no attendant or assistant day or night; they are locked up at night, the same as the others. There are bed-steads in the prison, if they were supplied with them, that they might sit down first and recline back gradually.
At sunrise the hospital door is opened the same as the others; and sometimes there is a dead one to carry out, which is done by lifting the boards he lies on, and carrying them all out to the yard. When the door is opened the stench is horrible, and a view of inside is just disgusting. Two healthy, strong lunatics, whose olfactory nerves are not very sensitive, assist the warder in getting all outside — ("assist " is wrong, the warder only directs). The living beings that once were men are stript of their clothes (they all lie with their clothes on, they are unable to dress and undress, and they get no help), one of the washing tubs alluded to is at the cell door with water in it, they are lifted up in the arms of one of the warder's assistants and squeezed into the tub, where they are rubbed down roughly with a piece of old coarse blanket. The floor of their room is being washed at the same time, and I have seen the mop used for that purpose used also on the body of the patient. It mattered not how filthy the first man may be, the same water must wash them all. They then are dressed in clean trousers and clean shirts, and lie about in the sun till their room is dry. They evidently are too much exposed to the sun; I saw many of their dead bodies, and every place exposed to the sun was raw or blistered. I saw the body of the man Paten, " De Facto" mentions as having been buried rather hastily : his body was one mass of blotches from sun-burns. A warder called me to look at him, to give my opinion whether he was dead enough to put in the coffin or no. His body was quite flexible — every joint lax and pliable. He had a piece of an old shirt over his face; I was about to remove it to assist me in forming my opinion, but it just occurred to me that my own hand was yet in the lion's mouth, and that it would be safer not to meddle, so I left the scene and declined expressing an opinion. One man persisted that he saw his foot move just before he was put in the coffin, but he was a lunatic. I think the surgeon-superintendent would be the proper person to look at the body, but he never does so — this I say positively. As soon as the patient is dead, two patients are sent with a warder to dig the grave, four more go over to the township with a warder for a coffin, the body is placed in it and buried as quickly as possible in unconsecrated ground. The doctor hears of it next day, or by that night's report, from the chief warder. (I think this grave-digging, and coffin-carrying, and disposing of the dead, is not the right sort of work for patients in a lunatic asylum). Every one I saw coffined were blistered with the sun, and bruised on the face from falls in getting up and down on the mattress. Always for about 24 hours before these men die I believe them to be quite sane, only desponding; yet they see no clergy-man or good layman that could and would cheer their drooping spirits. I am no admirer of cant, but it looks rather queer to a man in a religious community to see his fellow-man die and be buried like a beast, and that in a charitable institution within fifteen miles of our capital — almost within hearing of our assembled law-makers — and that such has continued for five years.
I don't know that those dying men got anything different from the other patients. I just see their mess brought to them the same as it is to others. Although I have seen what appears to be a milk contractor visit the place daily with two large cans of milk, I never saw one spoon-ful come in the prison in tea or any other way; the sick may get some, but I never saw it. The man has two large cans, and there are not many sick. I saw molasses issued two mornings in the week, a table-spoonful to each patient — literally a table-spoonful, and so measured, what adhered to the spoon you lose; as it was, it made me think of Mrs. Squeers, the Yorkshire schoolmaster's wife. Had there been sulphur in it I would have thought it a part of the medi-cal treatment; it is very good for the hominy, but, dispensed in such quantity, it must be a curious item in the contracts. I have seen beef tea brought them about 11 o'clock in the day. but they never take it. I tasted it one day, but it was not to my liking; it was beef tea prepared by a lunatic cook for a lunatic.
The doctor visits these patients once a day when he visits the others, though while I was there I was ten days consecutively and never saw him. Other men that have been there for a long period say they have been three weeks at a time without seeing him (I don't vouch for this), all that I say I know personally, and am ready to swear to if need be. When he comes he walks through the yard taking a look at everyone, but any one that speaks gets no answer. I have said there are some of the men foreigners that he cannot converse with, but there are numbers there that can talk good English, that he has not spoken to for years, what can he then know of their state of mind; the warder that is shut up with them all day knows far more about the state of each patient than he does. I think he is too much guided in his retaining or releasing by the chief warder's report; these reports, if filed, might, when produced before a court of inquiry, throw some light on the system used of judging the state of men's minds. He (the doctor) is accompanied one day in each week by another gentleman, evidently a Govern-ment official, from the regularity of his visits. Some of the old patients say that he is the visiting magistrate; what on earth can be his business there? If it be to see that the place is clean, the chief warder will take care of that; if it is to hear if there is any complaint, that is just absurd; how could he entertain a complaint from a lunatic? However, he walks the yard on the day of his visit with the doctor, and on that day, I suppose on account of his presence, the applications of patients for release are more than on other days. Well, the patients come up, the two gentlemen open out, forming as it were, with the patient, a triangle, of which each one is an apex. The man says what he has got to say; the magistrate looks towards the doctor with an inquiring glance; the doctor replies with a glance and shrug of the shoulder; the doctor's glance may mean, "Oh, dangerous," or, "Poor fellow, lucid interval," or that still more com-prehensive exclamation, " Pooh, bosh;" they fall in together again, and leave the poor applicant without a word. What a mockery! It is the like of this that breaks down minds hope-lessly. " Hope deferred maketh the heart sink;" hope deferred, also, completely ruins the mind. When a man is confined and expects justice, and every application is treated with contempt, it must drive him mad.
A doctor in the police courts will swear that a man wants confining for medical aid; he is confined close enough — so close that he cannot send a message out to a friend. In Woogaroo one day I presumed to send a message out by a genteel young lad that called there to see a friend. Although my message was to a magis-trate, and simply respecting my enlargement, he was cautioned not to take it. I was keeping score for the lunatic cricketers that day. I tore a bit of the paper on which I kept the score, wrote my name on it for fear this young gentleman should forget it, told him to give it to the magistrate and ask him to come and see me and get me out. The chief warder sent a warder after the lad to take the bit of paper (he had seen me give it him) from him. I grumbled at this, and said, " lf I was in gaol as a felon I would be allowed to send a message to a magistrate." I was told to hold my tongue — not to be impertinent, and some hints given about the refractory yard.
Men are not placed in the best yard or in the most comfortable mess-rooms by the state of their minds; such matters are regulated by the state of the chief warder's mind. It is he who exercises all the power of classing the in-mates, giving what quantity of tobacco he pleases; his power in all things is undisputed. I have known him to put a man in the refrac-tory yard for refusing to clean the brass padlocks. I have known him remove another because he refused to clean windows. He comes into the yard each day before the doctor comes and cautions the unfortunate patients (such as me) from annoying the doctor by useless applications. He has his pockets full of small bits of tobacco, and gives it to you according to his pleasure. I do think, from his style of conversation with men, that it is his wish and intention — ay, and whole study — to prove them mad if they ever are so sane. The pains taken by him to prevent messages going out is surprising. The moment your discharge comes you are hurried out, even force used to prevent you speaking to anybody; but we are out now, and the press is moving in the matter.
I have shown you that a man is confined close enough, according to the doctor's request that sends him there; but what is the medical aid? What is the practice? Homœopathy? lf so, the doses are so infinitesimally small that they are not perceptible. It may be allopathy, from the liberal use of salts and senna. Sympathy, I am sure it is not, as a kind or sympathetic word I never heard addressed to myself or any one else during my stay in Woogaroo.
If there is any change in the treatment of lunatics, there also ought to be some restraint on doctors sending men so readily to Woogaroo. A conscientious magistrate can tell a man that is not right as well a professor of anatomy could. Let the magistrate give him a month, that he may hope at the month's end, and at the end of that time another month, if he is not fit to go at large; but do not consign him to the tender mercy of any one man, be he ever so just, to be kept as long as he pleases — particularly as he is not accountable to any earthly tribunal for any injustice that he may do. The only power over the surgeon-superintendent at Woogaroo is the Colonial Secretary; he is non-professional, and cannot interfere with the professional discharge of duties.
Though I, after eight weeks patience as a patient, did not see how the professional part of the duty was to be exercised; Mr. Sneyd's duty, while I was in Brisbane Gaol, was just as professional as anything I saw in Woogaroo.
Against the warders generally I have little to say. A warder shut up with such a mob must be able to take his own part, and prompt enough to do so. Individual acts of assault or battery I do not speak of, as anything I witnessed was very trifling and very likely necessary; it is the general management that wants altering.
The surgeon-superintendent has a great objection to men going out, except on the application of a friend or relative. This is bad. Many of the working men have neither friends nor relatives in the colony. There is not much sympathy between the employer and employée, at all events not sufficient to induce the employer to go to a madhouse for a man because he is an old servant, when he can get as good a one at his station without the Woogaroo stigma. I will show in two cases the effect of an adher-ance to this system. The Mr. C., the patient that I have before mentioned, had a gentleman from Ipswich (who had heard of his detention) come to see him. Well, this gentleman procured his release; the surgeon-superintendent told him when it came from the Colonial Secretary's office, but that he could not let him out until his friend called for him. The gentleman had business of his own to attend to, and was unable to call for three weeks; at length he came and Mr. C. was released. It was through this detaining for friends that the poor lad Fahy died — the Fahy that "De Facto" mentions in his letter. This poor young man left some mournful memoranda behind him. On a shelf in one of the mess-rooms there are a number of parts of books useless for amusement, they consist of mathematical works and other subjects that are not amusing, therefore they are seldom handled; two fiddles and bows, the fiddles have no strings or bridges, hang beside the books, but from the conspicuous position of the whole they may have an effect in making visitors think that there is both literary and musical recreation. Well, on the blank leaves and margins of those useless books Fahy has left a sorrowful shred of autobiography. He was dead before my arrival there, and all I know of him I know from the memoranda. He came out to the colony under the auspices of a gentleman on the Downs, where he was employed some time after his arrival. He then got a situation in the Civil Service in Brisbane; he was then removed to the Customs at Rockhampton, from which place he came to Woogaroo; from Woogaroo, after a time, he absconded, and was sent back from Brisbane. On coming back, he was searched and deprived of an "Agnus Dei," a religious relic that he esteemed; the loss of it affected him greatly; he was superstitious, and thought all hope on earth gone. Then there is a more cheerful interval, where he says that the doctor has promised his release, and he only waits for his friend to take him out. Again, there is more desponding with hope delayed. The friend is a Crown Minister — time fully occupied for the public — till at last the poor lad (as his fellow-patients tell me) dropped dead in the yard. His memoranda appear the production of a desponding, heart-broken, but not insane young man. Such power in the hands of one man, whose every act shows indifference to the confinement or liberation of his fellow-man.
Let me show a suppositious case. On my way from Rockhampton to Brisbane there were two gentlemen on board the steamer who condescended to enter into conversation with me; they were the Rev. Mr. M'Gavin and Mr. Stockwell (judge's associate); they had an opportunity of judging of my sanity, and I don't believe either of them would say I was insane. Consequently, what I considered my unjust confinement at Woogaroo irritated me considerably.
Well, one evening the place was visited by a Wesleyan clergyman and a managing clerk in a mercantile firm. From the surgeon-superintendent refusing to speak to me, I made it my business to always speak to him when any gentleman accompanied him. On this occasion I renewed my appeal for release. The clerk mentioned prevented the doctor speaking, had he been so disposed, by speaking for him. He says, with the most patronising air, "Oh, my poor man, make your mind easy; Doctor C. will take good care of you." I turned sharply round on him and said that I required neither his care nor Doctor C's; that was the very thing I was anxious to be rid of. He smiled in my face, I daresay thinking I was mad.
My fingers tingled to blacken his eyes. Had I done so, I would, as regards the future, have stood in the same category as Mr. Bowerman does now, only that he will have in his case the learning and merciful consideration of a judge — the verdict of his peers — and the public will know all about it to form their opinions. In my case I would have had the humane consideration of the surgeon-superintendent, whose fiat is like the laws of the Medes and Persians, conclusive and unquestioned; and in my case also the public would have known nothing of the matter. However, I restrained myself. I mention it to show the power possessed by one man; and I would say to visitors, if they visit with any feeling different to that with which they would visit Foley's menagerie, let them look for some poor fellow that is wrongfully detained, and use their influence with the doctor to get him his release; then their visit may do some good.
I think in future, when doctors swear to certificates to procure a magistrate's warrant to send insane men to prison, they should simply swear that they think the man insane, and that it is good that he should be confined till God is pleased to restore his senses. The addition to the oath about medical attendance is all fiction; a man will get a dose of salts or see a medical man when he requires it in any gaol. Well, he will get no more in Woogaroo. This addition to the oath goes through the land in police reports to the press, misleading the public, who think the man is to be treated to some special course of medical treatment required by his affliction. It is not so. He is first yarded like a bullock and as much dead to all outside as if he were really a wild beast; and the man that has very little the matter with him — only slightly affected by drink — is treated exactly the same in all senses as the roaring, outrageous, dangerous madman; food the same, sleeping in same room, same course of medicine — medical officer holds out no hope to him, and he soon becomes the same in mind. These are the men that die off.
Assertions as to the number that ever see the outside of the prison after they once get in are useless, as there are statistics on that point. If the public think Woogaroo more comfortable for an insane patient than Brisbane Gaol it is a gross delusion, a delusion that only ex-patients can dispel. All patients coming from the north by water have some time in the gaol, so that they can make a comparison.
And now, expatients, if there is an Augean stable to cleanse do not leave "De Facto," " H. K." (I have not seen a paper since the 6th ultimo, and don't know if any one else has written on this matter), or your humble servant, to play the unaided Hercules. Assist by your truthfully recorded experience to turn on the current of public opinion, so that if an inquiry is instituted the enquirers may get the truth. Surely since the establishment of Woogaroo there has been some cured, and so well treated that they are ready to express their gratitude; if there are none such it is a very bad sign.
The Surgeon-superintendent is no doubt gentleman. If I know anything of "Lavater" (and I think I do) his physiognomy indicates the hospitable, affable, liberal host; the learned, polished, and courteous guest; the urbane, considerate, and obliging neighbour; all that man might wish his fellow-man to be; but can he "minister to the mind diseased?" Does he so minister when he meets with such a mind in forma pauperis?" I say emphatically, "NO." I am competent to give an opinion. My opinion is founded on sorrowful experience; if given with candor and truth, it should have more weight on this matter than the opinion of fifty of his gentlemen confréres in their daily associations. The day before I left Woogaroo the surgeon-superintendent remarked to me that he supposed, when I got out, I would be like all the rest, maligning the institution. I said it was a bad sign if all that were released maligned it; that if I felt it my duty to say anything it should not be anonymous; and thus I redeem that pledge .
THOMAS WHITE,
A Shepherd at Cressbrook.
Response from Rev. William Draper
THOMAS WHITE'S LETTER.
To the Editor of the Queensland Times. Sir,— Allow me a small space for an explanation. I, too, saw Thomas White, and for as long a space as yourself, and heard viva voce the main part of his long letter. Thomas White's great grievance, upon which he has scarcely dilated, is based upon the treatment he received before he arrived at Woogaroo. I believe that he ought not to have been in the asylum at all. The iniquity in his case is the system which allows the police to take a man into custody then goads him on to violent conduct, then procures two medical men to see him in his passion, and finally swears away his liberty before a police magistrate. It is monstrous that a policeman in some out-of-the-way hamlet should have the power to handcuff a drunken man, and when he has got him chained to torment him into insanity, or that which ignorance construes to be insanity, and after this to consign the poor creature, by the aid of magisterial power, to a long and wearisome journey, the end of which is a night's lodging in a public gaol, on the morrow to be removed to a lunatic asylum. Thomas White, I have little doubt, was sufficiently sobered by the time he arrived in Brisbane, and so he would have been had the police left him alone in Rockhampton, but the public must be told, in order to understand the case, that the magistrates' warrant is directed to no other than the surgeon-superintendent at Woogaroo. The poor patient must be conveyed to this destination. He may be brought from Clermont, but though he may be as sane as possible before half his compulsory journey is completed, on he must go to become an inmate of Woogaroo Asylum.
How the public have borne with this is a mystery. There is a sad necessity for a colonial public league to initiate and steadily to watch over measures relating to the public weal. Then the patient on his discharge must find his way back as best he can. I say it is a monstrous iniquity, against which every one ought to protest. Thomas White, as a stranger, mark, is de-livered at the asylum. Who is to know what his peculiarities are? From my personal observation, I should judge that, if he was lunatic at all, he would be one difficult to control. His own repeated statements —that he was tempted to resort to physical force — aptly describes the man. I should think that a blow from such an arm as his would go very far to illustrate the Latin proverb, "Fortitur in res."* I pity the man, and believe that his sorrows are very real; but I think he errs in one view of the case. The warrant which incarcerated him was Mr. Wiseman's.; Dr. Cannan was bound to obey it. Had he discharged White without testing the case, he must have been liable for any results which might have followed. Thomas White was however discharged, and the law allowed him to be turned out into the road, 400 miles from the place from which he was committed as a criminal, because he was insane, without food, without a friend, without shelter, a miserable outcast. And this is professedly a free colony! I respect the police system as an institution, but I strongly suspect that the liberty of the subject is frequently at stake when it is at the mercy of a single policeman in some far-off station. Woe to the man who dares to offend this dignity: he is the sole representative of power, and he frequently uses it.
There is still one thing more upon which I must add a few words. Thomas White's case is only an additional proof of the necessity of classification. Had be been put into a ward with cases of a slight temporary character, I have no doubt that he would have been released very soon. The presence of a lot of mad people made him feel most intensely. The asylum at Woogaroo is destitute of the most common accessories for the purpose of privately watching and judging the results of treatment. There is but little chance for a patient, who may be temporally insane, if he looks for repose and quiet unless the Government shows simple justice towards poor suffering humanity, and provides an asylum for the treatment of the insane.
Yours truly,
WILLIAM DRAPER.
White's response to Draper's Letter of 23rd January.
To the Editor of the Queensland Times.
Sir, — After the large space already allowed me in last Tuesday's issue, I should have nothing more to say of Woogaroo, except that a Queenslander news paper, 23rd January, has this day accidentally reached me — (it is the latest paper I have seen since 6th December) — in which there is a letter headed "Lunatic Asylum," and signed by the Rev. Mr. Draper, Goodna. In that letter there are a few pas-sages on which I would like to make some remark. I am sure the rev. gentleman has the purest and most disinterested motives in his remarks. (If an interest in the subject guides him it is with the charitable motive of ameliorating the condition of the patients.) In he first paragraph of that letter he mentions the testimonials of clergymen of all denominations of statesmen, of magistrates, and others, already procured, in their own handwriting, in favour of the present management, and quotes two of these, " Pleased and gratified with all I saw." "Everything satisfactory" — and so on. When a youth in Britain I have visited historical places, such as the cottage where Robert Burns was born, the Crown-room in Edinburgh castle, containing at that time, and perhaps now, the Scottish Royal insignia or regalia, I have been presented with a large book and requested to leave my name; but I did not think that such a practice was in vogue at Woogaroo, for any visitor of any class, after his inspection was finished, to tender unsolicited his testimonial would be the very extreme of pompous vanity. Such testimonials can only refer to the outward appearance of everything — clean passages, bright brass padlocks, and so on. There might be some slight excuse for tendering each testimonials to a warder or other subordinate, but I should imagine the surgeon-superintendent would think their tender an insult. They (the visitors) can know simply nothing from their short visit of the internal economy of the place, nor of the course of medicine in application. The rev. gentleman says in the second paragraph that he noted Dr. C.'s reception, that he was jocular with some, sympathising with others, and perfectly "reckoning up" not a few. I can only say that the surgeon-superintendent has altered his style of visiting since my residence there. The chief warder in my time did all the "reckoning up" prior to the Doctor's visit; the Doctor seldom spoke, and if spoken to in-variably refused to answer. A gentleman there has written him very humble letters requesting his consideration of his case; the receipt of such letters has not been acknowledged either by word or look. In the Rev. Mr. D.'s letter, the tenth paragraph commences by saying, " If Dr. Cannan is competent," and then adds, in a parenthesis, "that there can be no doubt of that, after one has inspected Woogaroo." I most respectfully beg leave to differ with the reverend gentleman; there are serious doubts of his competence. After a residence under his care of eight weeks, and, in the cases of other persons, of eight months, and others ten and twelve months, these are the persons to express an opinion — they have had time to form it. I beg leave to inform the Rev. Mr. D. that there are a few gentlemen now residing within a radius of fifty miles of Woogaroo who have been unfortunate enough to be there as patients. Of course there have been doubts (temporarily) as to their sanity, but as regards their honour, integrity, or truthfulness there never has been any doubt, nor will there be on this subject when disposed to speak. These men's experience enables them to form opinions which are entitled to more weight than any which the Rev. Mr. Draper may have formed during a cursory visit. I have seen in London papers and periodicals grateful effusions from overflowing hearts laudatory of the management of Bethlehem Hospital and other institutions for the insane in that city. Now, would not one such grateful effusion from an ex-patient of Woogaroo be more gratifying to the surgeon-superintendent, and more satisfactory to the public (who pay five thousand a year for the support of the pace), than a whole dray-load of testimonials such as I have alluded to in the commencement of this letter? The present Doctor has had the sole management of Woogaroo since it was first inhabited. Can it be possible that out of all the people benefitted there there are none to express their gratitude? What an ungrateful lot; not worthy medical care and attention. In my writing I have not alluded to the female asylum, as I knew nothing of it; still I have heard some strange tales about it — tales that appeared so improbable that I thought my informant wanted to work upon my credulity for some ulterior purpose. These reports appeared so incredible that I cannot repeat them, but " De Facto " seems to be well up in all pertaining to Woogaroo. I must mention one that surprised me more than the rest — that was the account I received of the death of a German woman in one of the badly ventilated cells ten feet by twelve: but as my informant told me, in addition, that her husband was a small farmer near Ipswich, that he came and followed her to the grave — hearing that she had a husband so near, who could have had any neglect of her case inquired into, made me doubt the whole. Still a commission of enquiry might ask the particulars; the death of a German woman will be known by the books, to furnish data to proceed on. I now most respectfully invite "De Facto" to make the public acquainted with the facts that he says are in his possession proving neglect Now, Mr. Editor, if you will please give this letter place, I promise that I will trouble you no more I leave the rest of the matter to abler men, and men who have had far more experience in Woogaroo from the length of time of their detention. If I had seen any anxiety on the part of the management to restore any of the unfortunate patients to society, my Woogaroo experience would then have been confined to my own breast. I am, &c.,
THOMAS WHITE.
Sheep Station, Cressbrook, February 12.
White's Response to Draper's Letter of 20th Feb.
To the Editor of the Queensland Times.
MR. EDITOR, — Be kind enough to allow me space to refer to some remarks in the Rev. Mr. Draper's letter in your issue of the 20th. Mr. D. says my great grievance is based upon the treatment I received before I arrived at Woogaroo; if so, it is not the part of the grievance of which I now complain — that is a grievance that cannot be redressed as the law now is. Two doctors are at liberty to make oath to their opinion, and such oath is binding upon the justice who must act upon it, so that Woogaroo is inevitable in every case where the medical faculty so decide; and after the magistrates warrant is signed, the constable must execute it, and use all his power for the man's detention. But as a conscientious magistrate must know as well as a doctor the man that wants restraining, it is to be hoped this power of the faculty may in future be modified. A doctor may speak more learnedly about the brain, if on view before him, but while the man holds his own brain with the scull [sic] intact, I think the opinion of the magistrates quite as good as the doctors.
Now all these men on whom the doctors give an unfavourable opinion are sent to Woogaroo: they are there from Cleveland Bay, Clermont, and I think nearly every town in the colony is represented in Woogaroo by some poor fellow. There is at least one, and may be more, whom the notorious Griffin's signature has made it legal to detain. Formerly all these men used to be detained in the gaol, and the change to Woogaroo for them was bad in the extreme.
I have stated in my narrative (appearing on the 9th) how the sick are treated at Woogaroo, and to that statement I defy contradiction. See the contrast. I saw a sick man in Brisbane gaol; he was confined to his bed with dropsy in a spacious well-ventilated room, a good bedstead, and bed furni-ture, including clean sheets, a healthy man in constant attendance on him, with a light burning all night, and the attendance of a medical man daily. But this man was not insane; he, poor fellow, was simply a twice or thrice convicted forger who had sense enough to appreciate the comforts with which he was surrounded. It appears to be considered foolish in Woogaroo to waste kindness or common humanity on weak in-tellects; they of course can not appreciate it.
The men who come to Woogaroo from the far north get their best medical treatment from the bracing sea-breeze on the passage. This passage may completely restore them; but their incarceration in Woogaroo with mad associations make them ill again. If men are in their right senses they come, if not cheerfully at least hopefully, on their journey, think-ing that their arrival at Woogaroo will be their release; but in this the poor fellows are terribly taken in. If, instead of being immediately locked up in the most refractory yard and pressed into a tub of dirty water, they were received by the medical officer and their minds tested separately by conversation, some of them might be immediately discharged and any severer strain on the mind be prevented — I mean the strain caused by their associating with madmen. If it is necessary to detain them, they should be stripped and subjected to a medical examination — physically. I can relate one instance of gross neglect of this course; but, as I have to appear at Woogaroo on Wednesday next, I will relate that case to the commissioners.
Mr. D. says I take a wrong view of my case, as the warrant incarcerating me was Mr. Wiseman's. I differ with the rev. gentleman. The statement of the doctors at Rockhampton left Mr. Wiseman no choice: I must go to Woogaroo. On my arrival there every-thing concerning me was at the control of the surgeon-superintendent. He had unquestioned power to detain or release as he pleased. Mr. D. says, had he discharged me without testing my case he must have been liable for any results that might have followed. I know not what would be the consequence of this liability, but I do know that Dr. C. is very chary of incurring it. What time is necessary to test a man's sanity? Is it not possible to injure the man fatally by extreme exaction? If Dr. C. discharges a man, and he then commits any outrage, of coarse the public know all about it, and Dr. C. will get the blame; but if his test is too tediously severe, and the man's mind gives way under it, Dr. C gets no blame, the public know nothing of it; it all rests between the poor man and Dr. C. Now, who shall say that some of the raving madmen that are there now have not been made so by that test? When a man bursts out as a raving lunatic, after bearing the test some months, methinks I can almost imagine the Dr.'s self-gratulation — " Dear me, the poor fellow is worse — hopelessly mad — and I was thinking of releasing him; it is well I did not let him go." How many die under the severity of the test, who will say? The dead are silent, and the raving lunatic is not to be heeded? Is there no medical man that knows enough of insanity to receive and dispose of men without this very severe test? I stood this test eight weeks; had it not been for the press I might have been subject to it yet. One Mr. C. stood it twelve months, and might have been forced to stand it till he succumbed, had it not been for the merciful interference of the Ipswich gentleman I have alluded to. Another Mr. C. stood this test five months. Well, how many are dead or raving mad in consequence of the unnecessary severity of this test? Woogaroo has been a mysterious dark place since it was first in-habited, but the light is just beginning to penetrate.
The Rev. Mr. D. speaks of the inaptness of the building for the purposes of classification. The Minister of Works cannot know the requirements of Woogaroo without they are represented to him. Who is the proper person to make such representation ? Has it been made? I think the same pressure that got a large stone building erected from foundation-stone to ridge-pole for the female patients, could have got the necessary improvements and additions in the old building occupied by the male patients. But the new building could be carried on and completed without the discipline or management being subject to the scrutiny of the mechanics em-ployed; but in improving the present male asylum its management would be laid bare to the workmen; each intelligent mechanic so employed could play "Asmodeus" without the aid of "two sticks." Woogaroo would not stand such a test one week.
Now, Mr. Editor, I did say in my last letter that I would trouble you no more on this subject, but since then I have received a summons to appear at Woogaroo next Wednesday.
I trust no person will think me so utterly hopeless as to wish for the notoriety acquired by drunkenness and temporary insanity; I saw the place as a sane man, I saw it wanted exposing; I saw other men shrink from making the exposure on account of their connnections — I have got no connections nor no status that I can be degraded from; my aspirations are no higher than shepherding or shearing; my motive is solely to try to make the place what it ought to be. THOMAS WHITE, Sheep-station, Cressbrook, Feb. 27, 1869.
