a - n i \t r» ' i t a t 
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. 33D 'h ]JIT TJNGHAM BEERS A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF AUTHOR'S NOTE 
TO THE 
REVISED EDITION 
The attention of those who may have 
read an earlier edition of “A Mind 
That Found Itself ” is invited to the 
alterations in this revision. Except for 
some rephrasing and the addition of 
several incidents, the narrative stands 
as before. But I have omitted vari- 
ous digressions, amounting to about 
seventy-five pages, which perforce inter- 
rupted the main story. These passages, 
having served their original purpose, 
now properly disappear. 
Interesting letters from eminent 
people and an autobiographical account 
of important work that has grown out 
of the publication of this book, follow 
the conclusion of my story. These sup- 
plementary pages form the basis of a 
second book that I intend some day 
to publish. 
C. W. B. A MIND THAT 
FOUND ITSELF 
*An 
BY 
CLIFFORD WHITTINGHAM BEERS 
11 \ 
GARDEN CITY NEW YORK 
DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY 
1923 COPYRIGHT, I907, I9I7, I92I, AND I923, BY 
CLIFFORD WHITTINGHAM BEERS 
All rights reserved 
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES 
AT 
THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N. Y TO THE MEMORY OF MY UNCLE 
SAMUEL EDWIN MERWIN 
WHOSE TIMELY GENEROSITY I BELIEVE SAVED MY LIFE, 
AND WHOSE DEATH HAS FOREVER ROBBED 
ME OF A SATISFYING OPPORTUNITY 
TO PROVE MY GRATITUDE From a Letter to the Author 
You have handled a difficult theme with great 
skill, and produced a narrative of absorbing 
interest to scientist as well as layman. It 
reads like fiction, but it is not fiction; and this 
I state emphatically, knowing how prone the 
uninitiated are to doubt the truthfulness of 
descriptions of abnormal mental processes. 
William James A Mind That Found Itself 
I 
This story is derived from as human a document as 
ever existed; and, because of its uncommon nature, per- 
haps no one thing contributes so much to its value as its 
authenticity. It is an autobiography, and more: in part 
it is a biography; for, in telling the story of my life, I must 
relate the history of another self—a self which was dom- 
inant from my twenty-fourth to my twenty-sixth year. 
During that period I was unlike what I had been, or 
what I have been since. The biographical part of my 
autobiography might be called the history of a men- 
tal civil war, which I fought single-handed on a battle- 
field that lay within the compass of my skull. An Army 
of Unreason, composed of the cunning and treacherous 
thoughts of an unfair foe, attacked my bewildered con- 
sciousness with cruel persistency, and would have de- 
stroyed me, had not a triumphant Reason finally inter- 
posed a superior strategy that saved me from my un- 
natural self. 
I am not telling the story of my life just to write a book. 
I tell it because it seems my plain duty to do so. A nar- 2 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
row escape from death and a seemingly miraculous re- 
turn to health after an apparently fatal illness are enough 
to make a man ask himself: For what purpose was my 
life spared? That question I have asked myself, and 
this book is, in part, an answer. 
I was born shortly after sunset about thirty years ago. 
My ancestors, natives of England, settled in this country 
not long after the Mayflower first sailed into Plymouth 
Harbor. And the blood of these ancestors, by time and 
the happy union of a Northern man and a Southern 
woman—my parents—has perforce been blended into 
blood truly American. 
The first years of my life were, in most ways, not un- 
like those of other American boys, except as a tendency 
to worry made them so. Though the fact is now 
difficult for me to believe, I was painfully shy. When 
first I put on short trousers, I felt that the eyes of the 
world were on me; and to escape them I hid behind 
convenient pieces of furniture while in the house and, 
so I am told, even sidled close to fences when I walked 
along the street. With my shyness there was a degree 
of self-consciousness which put me at a disadvantage 
in any family or social gathering. I talked little and 
was ill at ease when others spoke to me. 
Like many other sensitive and somewhat introspect- 
ive children, I passed through a brief period of morbid 
righteousness. In a game of “one-old-cat,” the side on 
which I played was defeated. On a piece of scantling A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
3 
which lay in the lot where the contest took place, I 
scratched the score. Afterwards it occurred to me that 
my inscription was perhaps misleading and would make 
my side appear to be the winner. I went back and cor- 
rected the ambiguity. On finding in an old tool chest at 
home a coin or medal, on which there appeared the text, 
“Put away the works of darkness and put on the armour 
of light,” my sense of religious propriety was offended. 
It seemed a sacrilege to use in this way such a high senti- 
ment, so I destroyed the coin. 
I early took upon myself, mentally at least, many of 
the cares and worries of those about me. Whether in 
this I was different from other youngsters who de- 
velop a ludicrous, though pathetic, sense of respon- 
sibility for the universe, I do not know. But in my case 
the most extreme instance occurred during a business 
depression, when the family resources were endangered. 
I began to fear that my father (than whom a more hope- 
ful man never lived) might commit suicide. 
After all, I am not sure that the other side of my nature 
—the natural, healthy, boyish side—did not develop 
equally with these timid and morbid tendencies, which 
are not so very uncommon in childhood. Certainly the 
natural, boyish side was more in evidence on the sur- 
face. I was as good a sport as any of my playfellows 
in such games as appealed to me, and I went a-fishing 
when the chance offered. None of my associates thought 
of me as being shy or morose. But this was because I 
masked my troubles, though quite unconsciously, under 
a camouflage of sarcasm and sallies of wit, or, at least, 4 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
what seemed to pass for wit among my immature ac- 
quaintances. With grown-ups, I was at times inclined to 
be pert, my degree of impudence depending no doubt 
upon how ill at ease I was and how perfectly at ease I 
wished to appear. Because of the constant need for 
appearing happier than I really was, I developed a knack 
for saying things in an amusing, sometimes an epigram- 
matic, way. I recall one remark made long before I could 
possibly have heard of Malthus or have understood his 
theory regarding birth rate and food supply. Ours being 
a large family of limited means and, among the five boys 
of the family, unlimited appetites, we often used the 
cheaper, though equally nutritious, cuts of meat. On 
one occasion when the steak was tougher than usual, I 
epitomized the Malthusian theory by remarking: “I 
believe in fewer children and better beefsteak!” 
One more incident of my boyhood days may assist the 
reader to make my acquaintance. In my early teens I 
was, for one year, a member of a boy choir. Barring 
my voice, I was a good chorister, and, like all good choir- 
boys, I was distinguished by that seraphic passiveness 
from which a reaction of some kind is to be expected im- 
mediately after a service or rehearsal. On one occasion 
this reaction in me manifested itself in a fist fight with 
a fellow choir-boy. Though I cannot recall the time 
when I have not relished verbal encounters, physical en- 
counters had never been to my taste, and I did not seek 
this fight. My assailant really goaded me into it. If 
the honors were not mine, at least I must have acquitted 
myself creditably, for an interested passer-by made a A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
5 
remark which I have never forgotten. “That boy is all 
right after he gets started,” he said. About twelve years 
later I did get started, and could that passer-by have 
seen me on any one of several occasions, he would have 
had the satisfaction of knowing that his was a prophetic 
eye. 
At the usual age, I entered a public grammar school 
in New Haven, Connecticut, where I graduated in 1891. 
In the fall of that year I entered the High School 
of the same city. My school courses were completed 
with as little trouble as scholastic distinction. I 
always managed to gain promotion, however, when it 
was due; and, though few of my teachers credited me 
with real ability, they were always able to detect a 
certain latent capacity, which they evidently believed 
would one day develop sufficiently to prevent me from 
disgracing them. 
Upon entering the High School I had such ambitions 
as any schoolboy is apt to have. I wished to secure an 
election to a given secret society; that gained, I wished 
to become business manager of a monthly magazine 
published by that society. In these ambitions I suc- 
ceeded. For one of my age I had more than an average 
love of business. Indeed, I deliberately set about learn- 
ing to play the guitar well enough to become elig- 
ible for membership in the Banjo Club—and this for 
no more aesthetic purpose than to place myself in line 
for the position of manager, to which I was later elected. 
In athletics there was but one game, tennis, in which 
I was actively interested. Its quick give-and-take 6 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
suited my temperament, ana so fond was I of it that 
during one summer I played not fewer than four thousand 
games. As I had an aptitude for tennis and devoted 
more time to it than did any of my schoolmates, it was 
not surprising that I acquired skill enough to win the 
school championship during my senior year. But that 
success was not due entirely to my superiority as a player. 
It was due in part to what I considered unfair treatment; 
and the fact well illustrates a certain trait of character 
which has often stood me in good stead. Among the 
spectators at the final match of the tournament were 
several girls. These schoolmates, who lived in my 
neighborhood, had mistaken for snobbishness a certain 
boyish diffidence for which few people gave me credit. 
When we passed each other, almost daily, this group of 
girls and I, our mutual sign of recognition was a look in 
an opposite direction. Now my opponent was well 
liked by these same girls and was entitled to their sup- 
port. Accordingly they applauded his good plays, which 
was fair. They did not applaud my good plays, which 
was also fair. But what was not fair was that they 
should applaud my bad plays. Their doing so roiled 
my blood, and thanks to those who would have had me 
lose, I won. 
In June, 1894, I received a high school diploma. 
Shortly afterwards I took my examinations for Yale, and 
the following September entered the Sheffield Scientific 
School, in a non-technical course. 
The last week of June, 1894, was an important one in 
my life. An event then occurred which undoubtedly A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
7 
changed my career completely. It was the direct cause 
of my mental collapse six years later, and of the distress- 
ing and, in some instances, strange and delightful expe- 
riences on which this book is based. The event was the 
illness of an older brother, who, late in June, 1894, was 
stricken with what was thought to be epilepsy. Few dis- 
eases can so disorganize a household and distress its mem- 
bers. My brother had enjoyed perfect health up to the 
time he was stricken; and, as there had never been a sug- 
gestion of epilepsy, or any like disease, in either branch of 
the family, the affliction came as a bolt from a clear sky. 
Everything possible was done to effect a cure, but with- 
out avail. On July 4th, 1900, he died, after a six years’ 
illness, two years of which were spent at home, one year 
in a trip around the world in a sailing vessel, and most 
of the remainder on a farm near Hartford. The doctors 
finally decided that a tumor at the base of the brain 
had caused his malady and his death. 
As I was in college when my brother was first stricken, I 
had more time at my disposal than the other members of 
the family, and for that reason spent much of it with him. 
Though his attacks during the first year occurred only at 
night, the fear that they might occur during the day, in 
public, affected my nerves from the beginning. 
Now, if a brother who had enjoyed perfect health all 
his life could be stricken with epilepsy, what was to pre- 
vent my being similarly afflicted? This was the thought 
that soon got possession of my mind. The more I con- 
sidered it and him, the more nervous I became; and the 
more nervous, the more convinced that my own break- 8 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
down was only a matter of. time. Doomed to what I 
then considered a living death, I thought of epilepsy, I 
dreamed epilepsy, until thousands of times during the 
six years that this disquieting idea persisted, my over- 
wrought imagination seemed to drag me to the very verge 
of an attack. Yet at no time during my life have these 
early fears been realized. 
For the fourteen months succeeding the time my 
brother was first stricken, I was greatly harassed with 
fear; but not until later did my nerves really conquer me. 
I remember distinctly when the break came. It hap- 
pened in November, 1895, during a recitation in German. 
That hour in the class room was one of the most dis- 
agreeable I ever experienced. It seemed as if my 
nerves had snapped, like so many minute bands of rub- 
ber stretched beyond their elastic limit. Had I had 
the courage to leave the room, I should have done so; 
but I sat as if paralyzed until the class was dismissed. 
That term I did not again attend recitations. Con- 
tinuing my studies at home, I passed satisfactory ex- 
aminations, which enabled me to resume my place in the 
class room the following January. During the remain- 
der of my college years I seldom entered a recitation 
room with any other feeling than that of dread, though 
the absolute assurance that I should not be called upon 
to recite did somewhat relieve my anxiety in some 
classes. The professors, whom I had told about my 
state of health and the cause of it, invariably treated 
me with consideration; but, though I believe they 
never doubted the genuineness of my excuse, it was A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
9 
no easy matter to keep them convinced for almost two- 
thirds of my college course. My inability to recite 
was not due usually to any lack of preparation. How- 
ever well prepared I might be, the moment I was 
called upon, a mingling of a thousand disconcerting 
sensations, and the distinct thought that at last the 
dread attack was at hand, would suddenly intervene 
and deprive me of all but the power to say, “Not 
prepared.” Weeks would pass without any other 
record being placed opposite my name than a zero, 
or a blank indicating that I had not been called 
upon at all. Occasionally, however, a professor, in 
justice to himself and to the other students, would in- 
sist that I recite, and at such times I managed to make 
enough of a recitation to hold my place in the class. 
When I entered Yale, I had four definite ambitions: 
first, to secure an election to a coveted secret society; 
second, to become one of the editors of the Yale Record, 
an illustrated humorous bi-weekly; third (granting that 
I should succeed in this latter ambition), to convince 
my associates that I should have the position of busi- 
ness manager—an office which I sought, not for the 
honor, but because I believed it would enable me to 
earn an amount of money at least equal to the cost of 
tuition for my years at Yale; fourth (and this was my 
chief ambition), to win my diploma within the pre- 
scribed time. These four ambitions I fortunately 
achieved. 
A man’s college days, collectively, are usually his 
happiest. Most of mine were not happy. Yet I look 10 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
back upon them with great satisfaction, for I feel that I 
was fortunate enough to absorb some of that intangible, 
but very real, element known as the “Yale spirit.” This 
has helped to keep Hope alive within me during my most 
discouraged moments, and has ever since made the ac- 
complishment of my purposes seem easy and sure. II 
On the thirtieth day of June, 1897, I graduated at 
Yale. Had I then realized that I was a sick man, I could 
and would have taken a rest. But, in a way, I had be- 
come accustomed to the ups and downs of a nervous 
existence, and, as I could not really afford a rest, six days 
after my graduation I entered upon the duties of a clerk 
in the office of the Collector of Taxes in the city of New 
Haven. I was fortunate in securing such a position at 
that time, for the hours were comparatively short and 
the work as congenial as any could have been under the 
circumstances. I entered the Tax Office with the in- 
tention of staying only until such time as I might secure 
a position in New York. About a year later I secured 
the desired position. After remaining in it for eight 
months I left it, in order to take a position which seemed 
to offer a field of endeavor more to my taste. From May, 
1899, till the middle of June, 1900,1 was a clerk in one of 
the smaller life-insurance companies, whose home office 
was within a stone’s throw of what some men consider 
the center of the universe. To be in the very heart of 
the financial district of New York appealed strongly to 
my imagination. As a result of the contagious ideals of 
Wall Street, tjie making of money was then a passion 
with me. I wished to taste the bitter-sweet of power 
based on wealth. 
11 12 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
For the first eighteen months of my life in New York, 
my health seemed no worse than it had been during the 
preceding three years. But the old dread still possessed 
me. I continued to have my more and less nervous 
days, weeks, and months. In March, 1900, however, 
there came a change for the worse. At that time I had a 
severe attack of grippe which incapacitated me for two 
weeks. As was to be expected in my case, this illness 
seriously depleted my vitality, and left me in a frightfully 
depressed condition—a depression which continued to 
grow upon me until the final crash came, on June 23rd, 
1900. The events of that day, seemingly disastrous as 
then viewed, but evidently all for the best as the issue 
proved, forced me along paths traveled by thousands, 
but comprehended by few. 
I had continued to perform my clerical duties until 
June 15 th. On that day I was compelled to stop, and 
that at once. I had reached a point where my will 
had to capitulate to Unreason —that unscrupulous 
usurper. My previous five years as a neurasthenic 
had led me to believe that I had experienced all the 
disagreeable sensations an overworked and unstrung 
nervous system could suffer. But on this day several 
new and terrifying sensations seized me and rendered 
me all but helpless. My condition, however, was not 
apparent even to those who worked with me at the 
same desk. I remember trying to speak and at times 
finding myself unable to give utterance to my thoughts. 
Though I was able to answer questions, that fact 
hardly diminished my feeling of apprehension, for a A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
13 
single failure in an attempt to speak will stagger any 
man, no matter what his state of health. I tried to 
copy certain records in the day’s work, but my hand 
was too unsteady, and I found it difficult to read 
the words and figures presented to my tired vision in 
blurred confusion. 
That afternoon, conscious that some terrible calamity 
was impending, but not knowing what would be its na- 
ture, I performed a very curious act. Certain early 
literary efforts which had failed of publication in the col- 
lege paper, but which I had jealously cherished for several 
years, I utterly destroyed. Then, after a hurried ar- 
rangement of my affairs, I took an early afternoon train, 
and was soon in New Haven. Home life did not make 
me better, and, except for three or four short walks, I 
did not go out of the house at all until June 23d, when I 
went in a most unusual way. To relatives I said little 
about my state of health, beyond the general statement 
that I had never felt worse—a statement which, when 
made by a neurasthenic, means much, but proves little. 
For five years I had had my ups and downs, and both my 
relatives and myself had begun to look upon these as 
things which would probably be corrected in and by 
time. 
The day after my home-coming I made up my mind, or 
that part of it which was still within my control, that the 
time had come to quit business entirely and take a rest of 
months. I even arranged with a younger brother to set 
out at once for some quiet place in the White Mountains, 
where I hoped to steady my shattered nerves. At this 14 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
time I felt as though in a tremor from head to foot, and 
the thought that I was about to have an epileptic at- 
tack constantly recurred. On more than one occasion 
I said to friends that I would rather die than live an 
epileptic; yet, if I rightly remember, I never declared 
the actual fear that I was doomed to bear such an 
affliction. Though I held the mad belief that I should 
suffer epilepsy, I held the sane hope, amounting to 
belief, that I should escape it. This fact may account, 
in a measure, for my six years of endurance. 
On the 18th of June I felt so much worse that I went 
to my bed and stayed there until the 23d. During the 
night of the 18th my persistent dread became a false 
belief—a delusion. What I had long expected I now be- 
came convinced had at last occurred. I believed my- 
self to be a confirmed epileptic, and that conviction was 
stronger than any ever held by a sound intellect. The 
half-resolve, made before my mind was actually im- 
paired, namely, that I would kill myself rather than live 
the life I dreaded, now divided my attention with the 
belief that the stroke had fallen. From that time my one 
thought was to hasten the end, for I felt that I should 
lose the chance to die should relatives find me in an 
attack of epilepsy. 
Considering the state of my mind and my inability at 
that time to appreciate the enormity of such an end as I 
half contemplated, my suicidal purpose was not entirely 
selfish. That I had never seriously contemplated sui- 
cide is proved by the fact that I had not provided myself 
with the means of accomplishing it, despite my habit, A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
15 
which has long been remarked by my friends, of pre- 
paring even for unlikely contingencies. So far as I had 
the control of my faculties, it must be admitted that I 
deliberated; but, strictly speaking, the rash act which 
followed cannot correctly be called an attempt at suicide 
—for how can a man who is not himself kill himself? 
Soon my disordered brain was busy with schemes for 
death. I distinctly remember one which included a 
row on Lake Whitney, near New Haven. This I in- 
tended to take in the most unstable boat obtainable. 
Such a craft could be easily upset, and I should so be- 
queath to relatives and friends a sufficient number of 
reasonable doubts to rob my death of the usual stigma. 
I also remember searching for some deadly drug which I 
hoped to find about the house. But the quantity and 
quality of what I found were not such as I dared to trust. 
I then thought of severing my jugular vein, even going so 
far as to test against my throat the edge of a razor which, 
after the deadly impulse first asserted itself, I had se- 
creted in a convenient place. I really wished to die, but 
so uncertain and ghastly a method did not appeal to me. 
Nevertheless, had I felt sure that in my tremulous frenzy 
I could accomplish the act with skilful dispatch, I should 
at once have ended my troubles. 
My imaginary attacks were now recurring with dis- 
tracting frequency, and I was in constant fear of dis- 
covery. During these three or four days I slept scarcely 
at all — even the medicine given to induce sleep having 
little effect. Though inwardly frenzied, I gave no out- 
ward sign of my condition. Most of the time I remained 16 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
quietly in bed. I spoke but seldom. I had practically, 
though not entirely, lost the power of speech; but my 
almost unbroken silence aroused no suspicions as to the 
seriousness of my condition. 
By a process of elimination, all suicidal methods but 
one had at last been put aside. On that one my mind 
now centred. My room was on the fourth floor of the 
house—one of a block of five—in which my parents 
lived. The house stood several feet back from the street. 
The sills of my windows were a little more than thirty 
feet above the ground. Under one was a flag pavement, 
extending from the house to the front gate. Under the 
other was a rectangular coal-hole covered with an iron 
grating. This was surrounded by flagging over a foot in 
width; and connecting it and the pavement proper was 
another flag. So that all along the front of the house, 
stone or iron filled a space at no point less than two feet 
in width. It required little calculation to determine how 
slight the chance of surviving a fall from either of those 
windows. 
About dawn I arose. Stealthily I approached a win- 
dow, pushed open the blinds, and looked out—and down. 
Then I closed the blinds as noiselessly as possible and 
crept back to bed: I had not yet become so irresponsible 
that I dared to take the leap. Scarcely had I pulled up 
the covering when a watchful relative entered my room, 
drawn thither perhaps by that protecting prescience 
which love inspires. I thought her words revealed a 
suspicion that she had heard me at the window, but 
speechless as I was I had enough speech to deceive her. A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
17 
For of what account are Truth and Love when Life 
itself has ceased to seem desirable? 
The dawn soon hid itself in the brilliancy of a perfect 
June day. Never had I seen a brighter—to look at; 
never a darker—to live through—or a better to die upon. 
Its very perfection and the songs of the robins, which at 
that season were plentiful in the neighborhood, served 
but to increase my despair and make me the more will- 
ing to die. As the day wore on, my anguish became 
more intense, but I managed to mislead those about me 
by uttering a word now and then, and feigning to read a 
newspaper, which to me, however, appeared an unintel- 
ligible jumble of type. My brain was in a ferment. It 
felt as if pricked by a million needles at white heat. My 
whole body felt as though it would be torn apart by the 
terrific nervous strain under which I labored. 
Shortly after noon, dinner having been served, my 
mother entered the room and asked me if she should bring 
me some dessert. I assented. It was not that I cared 
for the dessert; I had no appetite. I wished to get her 
out of the room, for I believed myself to be on the verge 
of another attack. She left at once. I knew that in 
two or three minutes she would return. The crisis 
seemed at hand. It was now or never for liberation. 
She had probably descended one of three flights of stairs 
when, with the mad desire to dash my brains out on 
the pavement below, I rushed to that window which 
was directly over the flag walk. Providence must have 
guided my movements, for in some otherwise unac- 
countable way, on the very point of hurling myself 18 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
out bodily, I chose to drop feet foremost instead. 
With my fingers I clung for a moment to the sill. 
Then I let go. In falling my body turned so as to 
bring my right side toward the building. I struck 
the ground a little more than two feet from the 
foundation of the house, and at least three to the left of 
the point from which I started. Missing the stone pave- 
ment by not more than three or four inches, I struck on 
comparatively soft earth. My position must have been 
almost upright, for both heels struck the ground squarely. 
The concussion slightly crushed one heel bone and 
broke most of the small bones in the arch of each foot, 
but there was no mutilation of the flesh. As my feet 
struck the ground my right hand struck hard against 
the front of the house, and it is probable that these 
three points of contact, dividing the force of the shock, 
prevented my back from being broken. As it was, it 
narrowly escaped a fracture and, for several weeks 
afterward, it felt as if powdered glass had been substi- 
tuted for cartilage between the vertebras. 
I did not lose consciousness even for a second, and the 
demoniacal dread, which had possessed me from June, 
1894, until this fall to earth just six years later, was 
dispelled the instant I struck the ground. At no time 
since have I experienced one of my imaginary at- 
tacks; nor has my mind even for a moment entertained 
such an idea. The little demon which had tortured me 
relentlessly for so many years evidently lacked the 
stamina which I must have had to survive the shock of 
my suddenly arrested flight through space. That the A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
19 
very delusion which drove me to a death-loving despera- 
tion should so suddenly vanish would seem to indicate 
that many a suicide might be averted if the person con- 
templating it could find the proper assistance when 
such a crisis impends. Ill 
It was squarely in frontof the dining-room window that 
I fell, and those at dinner were, of course, startled. It 
took them a second or two to realize what had happened. 
Then my younger brother rushed out, and with others 
carried me into the house. Naturally that dinner was 
permanently interrupted. A mattress was placed on 
the floor of the dining room and I on that, suffering in- 
tensely. I said little, but what I said was significant. 
“I thought I had epilepsy!” was my first remark; and 
several times I said, “I wish it was over!” For I 
believed that my death was only a question of hours. 
To the doctors, who soon arrived, I said, “My back is 
broken!”—raising myself slightly, however, as I said so. 
An ambulance was summoned and I was placed in 
it. Because of the nature of my injuries it had to 
proceed slowly. The trip of a mile and a half seemed 
interminable, but finally I arrived at Grace Hospital 
and was placed in a room which soon became a chamber 
of torture. It was on the second floor; and the first 
object to engage my attention and stir my imagination 
was a man who appeared outside my window and placed 
in position several heavy iron bars. These were, it 
seems, thought necessary for my protection, but at that 
time no such idea occurred to me. My mind was in 
a delusional state, ready and eager to seize upon any 
external stimulus as a pretext for its wild inventions, 
20 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
21 
and that barred window started a terrible train of de- 
lusions which persisted for seven hundred and ninety- 
eight days. During that period my mind imprisoned 
both mind and body in a dungeon than which none was 
ever more secure. 
Knowing that those who attempt suicide are usually 
placed under arrest, I believed myself under legal re- 
straint. I imagined that at any moment I might be 
taken to court to face some charge lodged against me by 
the local police. Every act of those about me seemed to 
be a part of what, in police parlance, is commonly called 
the “ Third Degree.” The hot poultices placed upon my 
feet and ankles threw me into a profuse perspiration, 
and my very active association of mad ideas convinced 
me that I was being “sweated”—another police term 
which I had often seen in the newspapers. I inferred 
that this third-degree sweating process was being in- 
flicted in order to extort some kind of a confession, 
though what my captors wished me to confess I could 
not for my life imagine. As I was really in a state of de- 
lirium, with high fever, I had an insatiable thirst. The 
only liquids given me were hot saline solutions. Though 
there was good reason for administering these, I believed 
they were designed for no other purpose than to increase 
my sufferings, as part of the same inquisitorial process. 
But had a confession been due, I could hardly have made 
it, for that part of my brain which controls the power of 
speech was seriously affected, and was soon to be further 
disabled by my ungovernable thoughts. Only an oc- 
casional word did I utter. 22 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
Certain hallucinations of hearing, or “false voices,” 
added to my torture. Within my range of hearing, but 
beyond the reach of my understanding, there was a hell- 
ish vocal hum. Now and then I would recognize the 
subdued voice of a friend; now and then I would hear the 
voices of some I believed were not friends. All these re- 
ferred to me and uttered what I could not clearly dis- 
tinguish, but knew must be imprecations. Ghostly 
rappings on the walls and ceiling of my room punc- 
tuated unintelligible mumblings of invisible persecu- 
tors. 
I remember distinctly my delusion of the following 
day—Sunday. I seemed to be no longer in the hospital. 
In some mysterious way I had been spirited aboard a 
huge ocean liner. I first discovered this when the ship 
was in mid-ocean. The day was clear, the sea apparently 
calm, but for all that the ship was slowly sinking. And 
it was I, of course, who had created the situation which 
must turn out fatally for all, unless the coast of Europe 
could be reached before the water in the hold should ex- 
tinguish the fires. How had this peril overtaken us? 
Simply enough: During the night I had in some way—a 
way still unknown to me—opened a porthole below the 
water-line; and those in charge of the vessel seemed pow- 
erless to close it. Every now and then I could hear parts 
of the ship give way under the strain. I could hear the 
air hiss and whistle spitefully under the resistless impact 
of the invading waters; I could hear the crashing of tim- 
bers as partitions were wrecked; and as the water rushed 
in at one place I could see, at another, scores of helpless A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
23 
passengers swept overboard into the sea—my unintended 
victims. I believed that I, too, might at any moment be 
swept away. That I was not thrown into the sea by 
vengeful fellow-passengers was, I thought, due to their 
desire to keep me alive until, if possible, land should 
be reached, when a more painful death could be inflicted 
upon me. 
While aboard my phantom ship I managed in some 
way to establish an electric railway system; and the trol- 
ley cars which passed the hospital were soon running 
along the deck of my ocean liner, carrying passengers 
from the places of peril to what seemed places of com- 
parative safety at the bow. Every time I heard a car 
pass the hospital, one of mine went clanging along the 
ship’s deck. 
My feverish imaginings were no less remarkable than 
the external stimuli which excited them. As I have 
since ascertained, there were just outside my room an 
elevator and near it a speaking-tube. Whenever the 
speaking-tube was used from another part of the build- 
ing, the summoning whistle conveyed to my mind the 
idea of the exhaustion of air in a ship-compartment, and 
the opening and shutting of the elevator door completed 
the illusion of a ship fast going to pieces. But the ship 
my mind was on never reached any shore, nor did she 
sink. Like a mirage she vanished, and again I found 
myself safe in my bed at the hospital. “ Safe,” did I say? 
Scarcely that—for deliverance from one impending dis- 
aster simply meant immediate precipitation into another. 
My delirium gradually subsided, and four or five days 24 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
after the 23d the doctors were able to set my broken 
bones. The operation suggested new delusions. Shortly 
before the adjustment of the plaster casts, my legs, for 
obvious reasons, were shaved from shin to calf. This 
unusual tonsorial operation I read for a sign of degrada- 
tion—associating it with what I had heard of the treat- 
ment of murderers and with similar customs in bar- 
barous countries. It was about this time also that strips 
of court-plaster, in the form of a cross, were placed on 
my forehead, which had been slightly scratched in my 
fall, and this, of course, I interpreted as a brand of 
infamy. 
Had my health been good, I should at this time have 
been participating in the Triennial of my class at Yale. 
Indeed, I was a member of the Triennial Committee and 
though, when I left New York on June 15th, I had been 
feeling terribly ill, I had then hoped to take part in the 
celebration. The class reunions were held on Tuesday, 
June 26th—three days after my collapse. Those familiar 
with Yale customs know that the Harvard baseball 
game is one of the chief events of the commencement 
season. Headed by brass bands, all the classes whose 
reunions fall in the same year march to the Yale Athletic 
Field to see the game and renew their youth—using up as 
much vigor in one delirious day as would insure a ripe 
old age if less prodigally expended. These classes, with 
their bands and cheering, accompanied by thousands of 
other vociferating enthusiasts, march through West 
Chapel Street—the most direct route from the Campus to 
the Field. It is upon this line of march that Grace Hos- A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
25 
pital is situated, and I knew that on the day of the game 
the Yale thousands would pass the scene of my incarcer- 
ation. 
I have endured so many days of the most exquisite tor- 
ture that I hesitate to distinguish among them by 
degrees; each deserves its own unique place, even as a 
Saint’s Day in the calendar of an olden Spanish inquis- 
itor. But, if the palm is to be awarded to any, June 26th, 
1900, perhaps has the first claim. 
My state of mind at that time might be pictured thus: 
The criminal charge of attempted suicide stood against 
me on June 23rd. By the 26th many other and worse 
charges had accumulated. The public believed me the 
most despicable member of my race. The papers were 
filled with accounts of my misdeeds. The thousands of 
collegians gathered in the city, many of whom I knew 
personally, loathed the very thought that a Yale man 
should so disgrace his Alma Mater. And when they ap- 
proached the hospital on their way to the Athletic Field, 
I concluded that it was their intention to take me from 
my bed, drag me to the lawn, and there tear me limb from 
limb. Few incidents during my unhappiest years are 
more vividly or circumstantially impressed upon my 
memory. The fear, to be sure, was absurd, but in the 
lurid lexicon of Unreason there is no such word as “ab- 
surd.” Believing, as I did, that I had dishonored Yale 
and forfeited the privilege of being numbered among her 
sons, it was not surprising that the college cheers which 
filled the air that afternoon, and in which only a few days 
earlier I had hoped to join, struck terror to my heart. IV 
Naturally I was suspicious of all about me, and be- 
came more so each day. But not until about a month 
later did I refuse to recognize my relatives. While I was 
at Grace Hospital, my father and eldest brother called al- 
most every day to see me, and, though I said little, I still 
accepted them in their proper characters. I remember 
well a conversation one morning with my father. The 
words I uttered were few, but full of meaning. Shortly 
before this time my death had been momentarily ex- 
pected. I still believed that I was surely about to die as 
a result of my injuries, and I wished in some way to let 
my father know that, despite my apparently ignomin- 
ious end, I appreciated all that he had done for me dur- 
ing my life. Few men, I believe, ever had a more painful 
time in expressing their feelings than I had on that oc- 
casion. I had but little control over my mind, and my 
power of speech was impaired. My father sat beside 
my bed. Looking up at him, I said, “You have been a 
good father to me.” 
“I have always tried to be,” was his characteristic 
reply. 
After the broken bones had been set, and the first 
effects of the severe shock I had sustained had worn off, 
I began to gain strength. About the third week I was 
able to sit up and was occasionally taken out of doors. 
26 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
27 
But each day, and especially during the hours of the 
night, my delusions increased in force and variety. The 
world was fast becoming to me a stage on which every 
human being within the range of my senses seemed to be 
playing a part, and that a part which would lead not only 
to my destruction (for which I cared little), but also to 
the ruin of all with whom I had ever come in contact. In 
the month of July several thunder-storms occurred. To 
me the thunder was “stage” thunder, the lightning man- 
made, and the accompanying rain due to some clever con- 
trivance of my persecutors. There was a chapel connected 
with the hospital—or at least a room where religious 
services were held every Sunday. To me the hymns were 
funeral dirges; and the mumbled prayers, faintly audible, 
were in behalf of every sufferer in the world but one. 
It was my eldest brother who looked after my care and 
interests during my entire illness. Toward the end of 
July, he informed me that I was to be taken home again. 
I must have given him an incredulous look, for he 
said, “Don’t you think we can take you home? Well, 
we can and will.” Believing myself in the hands of the 
police, I did not see how that was possible. Nor did I have 
any desire to return. That a man who had disgraced his 
family should again enter his old home and expect his 
relatives to treat him as though nothing were changed, 
was a thought against which my soul rebelled; and, 
when the day came for my return, I fought my brother 
and the doctor feebly as they lifted me from the bed. 
But I soon submitted, was placed in a carriage, and 
driven to the house I had left a month earlier. 28 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
For a few hours my mind was calmer than it had been. 
But my new-found ease was soon dispelled by the ap- 
pearance of a nurse—one of several who had attended me 
at the hospital. Though at home and surrounded by 
relatives, I jumped to the conclusion that I was still 
under police surveillance. At my request my brother 
had promised not to engage any nurse who had been 
in attendance at the hospital. The difficulty of pro- 
curing any other led him to disregard my request, 
which at the time he held simply as a whim. But he 
did not disregard it entirely, for the nurse selected 
had merely acted as a substitute on one occasion, and 
then only for about an hour. That was long enough, 
though, for my memory to record her image. 
Finding myself still under surveillance, I soon jumped 
to a second conclusion, namely, that this was no brother 
of mine at all. He instantly appeared in the light of a 
sinister double, acting as a detective. After that I refused 
absolutely to speak to him again, and this repudiation I 
extended to all other relatives, friends and acquaint- 
ances. If the man I had accepted as my brother was spu- 
rious, so was everybody—that was my deduction. For 
more than two years I was without relatives or friends, 
in fact, without a world, except that one created by my 
own mind from the chaos that reigned within it. 
While I was at Grace Hospital, it was my sense of hear- 
ing which was the most disturbed. But soon after I was 
placed in my room at home, all of my senses became per- 
verted. I still heard the “false voices”—which were 
doubly false, for Truth no longer existed. The tricks A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
29 
played upon me by my senses of taste, touch, smell, 
and sight were the source of great mental anguish. 
None of my food had its usual flavor. This soon led to 
that common delusion that some of it contained poison— 
not deadly poison, for I knew that my enemies hated me 
too much to allow me the boon of death, but poison suf- 
ficient to aggravate my discomfort. At breakfast I had 
cantaloupe, liberally sprinkled with salt. The salt 
seemed to pucker my mouth, and I believed it to be 
powdered alum. Usually, with my supper, sliced peaches 
were served. Though there was sugar on the peaches, 
salt would have done as well. Salt, sugar, and powdered 
alum had become the same to me. 
Familiar materials had acquired a different “ feel.’ In 
the dark, the bed sheets at times seemed like silk. As I 
had not been born with a golden spoon in my mouth, or 
other accessories of a useless luxury, I believed the de- 
tectives had provided these silken sheets for some hostile 
purpose of their own. What that purpose was I could 
not divine, and my very inability to arrive at a satis- 
factory conclusion stimulated my brain to the assembling 
of disturbing thoughts in an almost endless train. 
Imaginary breezes struck my face, gentle, but not 
welcome, most of them from parts of the room where 
currents of air could not possibly originate. They 
seemed to come from cracks in the walls and ceiling and 
annoyed me exceedingly. I thought them in some way 
related to that ancient method of torture by which 
water is allowed to strike the victim’s forehead, a drop 
at a time, until death releases him. For a while my 30 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
sense of smell added to my troubles. The odor of burn- 
ing human flesh and other pestilential fumes seemed 
to assail me. 
My sense of sight was subjected to many weird and un- 
canny effects. Phantasmagoric visions made their visi- 
tations throughout the night, for a time with such regular- 
ity that I used to await their coming with a certain 
restrained curiosity. I was not entirely unaware that 
something was ailing with my mind. Yet these illusions 
of sight I took for the work of detectives, who sat up 
nights racking their brains in order to rack and utterly 
wreck my own with a cruel and unfair Third Degree. 
Handwriting on the wall has ever struck terror to the 
hearts of even sane men. I remember as one of my most 
unpleasant experiences that I began to see handwriting on 
the sheets of my bed staring me in the face, and not me 
alone, but also the spurious relatives who often stood or 
sat near me. On each fresh sheet placed over me I would 
soon begin to see words, sentences, and signatures, all in 
my own handwriting. Yet I could not decipher any of 
the words, and this fact dismayed me, for I firmly be- 
lieved that those who stood about could read them all 
and found them to be incriminating evidence. 
I imagined that these visionlike effects, with few ex- 
ceptions, were produced by a magic lantern controlled by 
some of my myriad persecutors. The lantern was rather 
a cinematographic contrivance. Moving pictures, often 
brilliantly colored, were thrown on the ceiling of my 
room and sometimes on the sheets of my bed. Human 
bodies, dismembered and gory, were one of the most A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
31 
common of these. All this may have been due to the 
fact that, as a boy, I had fed my imagination on the 
sensational news of the day as presented in the public 
press. Despite the heavy penalty which I now paid 
for thus loading my mind, I believe this unwise indulg- 
ence gave a breadth and variety to my peculiar psycho- 
logical experience which it otherwise would have lacked. 
For with an insane ingenuity I managed to connect 
myself with almost every crime of importance of which 
I had ever read. 
Dismembered human bodies were not alone my bed- 
fellows at this time. I remember one vision of vivid 
beauty. Swarms of butterflies and large and gorgeous 
moths appeared on the sheets. I wished that the usu- 
ally unkind operator would continue to show these 
pretty creatures. Another pleasing vision appeared 
about twilight several days in succession. I can trace 
it directly to impressions gained in early childhood. The 
quaint pictures by Kate Greenaway—little children in 
attractive dress, playing in old-fashioned gardens— 
would float through space just outside my windows. 
The pictures were always accompanied by the gleeful 
shouts of real children in the neighborhood, who, before 
being sent to bed by watchful parents, devoted the last 
hour of the day to play. It doubtless was their shouts 
that stirred my memories of childhood and brought forth 
these pictures. 
In my chamber of intermittent horrors and moment- 
ary delights, uncanny occurrences were frequent. I be- 
lieved there was some one who at fall of night secreted 32 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
himself under my bed. That in itself was not peculiar, as 
sane persons at one time or another are troubled by that 
same notion. But my bed-fellow—under the bed—was 
a detective; and he spent most of his time during the 
night pressing pieces of ice against my injured heels, to 
precipitate, as I thought, my overdue confession. 
The piece of ice in the pitcher of water which usually 
stood on the table sometimes clinked against the 
pitcher’s side as its center of gravity shifted through 
melting. It was many days before I reasoned out the 
cause of this sound; and until I did I supposed it was 
produced by some mechanical device resorted to by the 
detectives for a purpose. Thus the most trifling occur- 
rence assumed for me vast significance. V 
After remaining at home for about a month, during 
which time I showed no improvement mentally, though 
I did gain physically, I was taken to a private sanator- 
ium. My destination was frankly disclosed to me. But 
my habit of disbelief had now become fixed, and I thought 
myself on the way to a trial in New York City, for some 
one of the many crimes with which I stood charged. 
My emotions on leaving New Haven were, I imagine, 
much the same as those of a condemned but penitent 
criminal who looks upon the world for the last time. The 
day was hot, and, as we drove to the railway station, the 
blinds on most of the houses in the streets through which 
we passed were seen to be closed. The reason for this 
was not then apparent to me. I thought I saw an un- 
broken line of deserted houses, and I imagined that their 
desertion had been deliberately planned as a sign of dis- 
pleasure on the part of their former occupants. As 
citizens of New Haven, I supposed them bitterly ashamed 
of such a despicable townsman as myself. Because of the 
early hour, the streets were practically deserted. This 
fact, too, I interpreted to my own disadvantage. As 
the carriage crossed the main business thoroughfare, I 
took what I believed to be my last look at that part of 
my native city. 
From the carriage I was carried to the train and placed 
in the smoking car in the last seat on the right-hand side. 
33 34 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
The back of the seat next in front was reversed so that my 
legs might be placed in a comfortable position, and one of 
the boards used by card-playing travelers was placed be- 
neath them as a support. With a consistent degree of 
suspicion I paid particular attention to a blue mark on 
the face of the railroad ticket held by my custodian. I 
took it to be a means of identification for use in court. 
That one’s memory may perform its function in the 
grip of Unreason itself is proved by the fact that my mem- 
ory retains an impression, and an accurate one, of virtu- 
ally everything that befell me, except when under the 
influence of an anaesthetic or in the unconscious hours of 
undisturbed sleep. Important events, trifling conver- 
sations, and more trifling thoughts of my own are now 
recalled with ease and accuracy; whereas, prior to my ill- 
ness and until a strange experience to be recorded 
later, mine was an ordinary memory when it was not 
noticeably poor. At school and in college I stood 
lowest in those studies in which success depended 
largely upon this faculty. Psychiatrists inform me that 
it is not unusual for those suffering as I did to retain 
accurate impressions of their experiences while ill. To 
laymen this may seem almost miraculous, yet it is not 
so; nor is it even remarkable. Assuming that an insane 
person’s memory is capable of recording impressions at all, 
remembrance for one in the torturing grip of delusions of 
persecution should be doubly easy. This deduction is 
in accord with the accepted psychological law that the 
retention of an impression in the memory depends largely 
upon the intensity of the impression itself, and the fre- A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
35 
quency of its repetition. Fear to speak, lest I should 
incriminate myself and others, gave to my impressions 
the requisite intensity, and the daily recurrence of the 
same general line of thought served to fix all impressions 
in my then supersensitive memory. 
Shortly before seven in the morning, on the way to the 
sanatorium, the train passed through a manufacturing 
center. Many workmen were lounging in front of a fac- 
tory, most of them reading newspapers. I believed these 
papers contained an account of me and my crimes, and I 
thought everyone along the route knew who I was and 
what I was, and that I was on that train. Few seemed to 
pay any attention to me, yet this very fact looked to be 
a part of some well-laid plan of the detectives. 
The sanatorium to which I was going was in the 
country. When a certain station was reached, I was 
carried from the train to a carriage. At that moment I 
caught sight of a former college acquaintance, whose 
appearance I thought was designed to let me know that 
Yale, which I believed I had disgraced, was one of the 
powers behind my throne of torture. 
Soon after I reached my room in the sanatorium, the 
supervisor entered. Drawing a table close to the bed, he 
placed upon it a slip of paper which he asked me to sign. 
I looked upon this as a trick of the detectives to get a 
specimen of my handwriting. I now know that the sign- 
ing of the slip is a legal requirement, with which every 
patient is supposed to comply upon entering such an insti- 
tution—private in character—unless he has been com- 
mitted by some court. The exact wording of this 36 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
“voluntary commitment” I do not now recall; but, it 
was, in substance, an agreement to abide by the rules of 
the institution—whatever they were—and to submit to 
such restraint as might be deemed necessary. Had I not 
felt the weight of the world on my shoulders, I believe my 
sense of humor would have caused me to laugh outright; 
for the signing of such an agreement by one so situated 
was, even to my mind, a farce. After much coaxing I 
was induced to go so far as to take the pen in my hand. 
There I again hesitated. The supervisor apparently 
thought I might write with more ease if the paper were 
placed on a book. And so I might, had he selected a book 
of a different title. One more likely to arouse suspicions 
in my mind could not have been found in a search of the 
Congressional Library. I had left New York on June 
15th, and it was in the direction of that city that my 
present trip had taken me. I considered this but the 
first step of my return under the auspices of its Police 
Department. “Called Back” was the title of the book 
that stared me in the face. After refusing for a long 
time I finally weakened and signed the slip; but I did not 
place it on the book. To have done that would, in my 
mind, have been tantamount to giving consent to ex- 
tradition; and I was in no mood to assist the detectives in 
their mean work. At what cost had I signed that com- 
mitment slip? To me it was the act of signing my own 
death-warrant. VI 
During the entire time that my delusions of persecu- 
tion, as they are called, persisted, I could not but respect 
the mind that had laid out so comprehensive and devil- 
ishly ingenious and, times, artistic a Third Degree 
as I was called upon to bear. And an innate modesty 
(more or less fugitive since these peculiar experiences) 
does not forbid my mentioning the fact that I still re- 
spect that mind. 
Suffering such as I endured during the month of 
August in my own home continued with gradually 
diminishing force during the eight months I remained in 
this sanatorium. Nevertheless my sufferings during the 
first four of these eight months was intense. All my 
senses were still perverted. My sense of sight was the 
first to right itself—nearly enough, at least, to rob the 
detectives of their moving pictures. But before the last 
fitful film had run through my mind, I beheld one which 
I shall now describe. I can trace it directly to an im- 
pression made on my memory about two years earlier, 
before my breakdown. 
Shortly after going to New York to live, I had explored 
the Eden Musee. One of the most gruesome of the 
spectacles which I had seen in its famed Chamber of 
Horrors was a representation of a gorilla, holding in its 
arms the gory body of a woman. It was that impression 
37 38 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
which now revived in my mind. But by a process 
strictly in accordance with Darwin’s theory, the Eden 
Musee gorilla had become a man—in appearance not 
unlike the beast that had inspired my distorted thought. 
This man held a bloody dagger which he repeatedly 
plunged into the woman’s breast. The apparition did 
not terrify me at all. In fact I found it interesting, for I 
looked upon it as a contrivance of the detectives. Its 
purpose I could not divine, but this fact did not trouble 
me, as I reasoned that no additional criminal charges 
could make my situation worse than it already was. 
For a month or two, “false voices” continued to annoy 
me. And if there is a hell conducted on the principles of 
my temporary hell, gossippers will one day wish they had 
attended strictly to their own business. This is not a 
confession. I am no gossipper, though I cannot deny that 
I have occasionally gossipped—a little. And this was my 
punishment: persons in an adjoining room seemed to be 
repeating the very same things which I had said of 
others on these communicative occasions. I supposed 
that those whom I had talked about had in some way 
found me out, and intended now to take their revenge. 
My sense of smell, too, became normal; but my sense 
of taste was slow in recovering. At each meal, poison 
was still the piece de resistance, and it was not surprising 
that I sometimes dallied one, two, or three hours over a 
meal, and often ended by not eating it at all. 
There was, however, another reason for my frequent 
refusal to take food, in my belief that the detectives had 
resorted to a more subtle method of detection. They now A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
39 
intended by each article of food to suggest a certain idea,' 
and I was expected to recognize the idea thus suggested. 
Conviction or acquittal depended upon my correct inter- 
pretation of their symbols, and my interpretation was to 
be signified by my eating, or not eating, the several kiiids 
of food placed before me. To have eaten a burnt crust of 
bread would have been a confession of arson. Why? 
Simply because the charred crust suggested fire; and, as 
bread is the staff of life, would it not be an inevitable 
deduction that life had been destroyed—destroyed by fire 
—and that I was the destroyer? On one day to eat a 
given article of food meant confession. The next day, or 
the next meal, a refusal to eat it meant confession. This 
complication of logic made it doubly difficult for me to 
keep from incriminating myself and others. 
It can easily be seen that I was between several devils 
and the deep sea. To eat or not to eat perplexed me 
more than the problem conveyed by a few shorter words 
perplexed a certain prince, who, had he lived a few centu- 
ries later (out of a book), might have been forced to enter 
a kingdom where kings and princes are made and unmade 
on short notice. Indeed, he might have lost his princi- 
pality entirely—or, at least, his subjects; for, as I later 
had occasion to observe, the frequency with which a de- 
throned reason mounts a throne and rules a world is such 
that self-crowned royalty receives but scant homage from 
the less elated members of the court. 
For several weeks I ate but little. Though the desire 
for food was not wanting, my mind (that dog-in-the- 
manger) refused to let me satisfy my hunger. Coaxing 40 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
by the attendants was of little avail; force was usually of 
less. But the threat that liquid nourishment would be 
administered through my nostrils sometimes prevailed, 
for the attribute of shrewdness was not so utterly lost 
that I could not choose the less of two evils. 
What I looked upon as a gastronomic ruse of the detect- 
ives sometimes overcame my fear of eating. Every Sun- 
day ice cream was served with dinner. At the beginning 
of the meal a large pyramid of it would be placed before 
me in a saucer several sizes too small. I believed that it 
was never to be mine unless I first partook of the more 
substantial fare. As I dallied over the meal, that de- 
licious pyramid would gradually melt, slowly filling the 
small saucer, which I knew could not long continue to 
hold all of its original contents. As the melting of the 
ice cream progressed, I became more indifferent to my 
eventual fate; and, invariably, before a drop of that pre- 
cious reward had dripped from the saucer, I had eaten 
enough of the dinner to prove my title to the seductive 
dessert. Moreover, during its enjoyment, I no longer 
cared a whit for charges or convictions of all the crimes 
in the calendar. This fact is less trifling than it seems; 
for it proves the value of strategy as opposed to brute and 
sometimes brutal force, of which I shall presently give 
some illuminating examples. VII 
Choice of a sanatorium by people of limited means is, 
unfortunately, very restricted. Though my relatives be- 
lieved the one in which I was placed was at least fairly 
well conducted, events proved otherwise. From a mod- 
est beginning made not many years previously, it had 
enjoyed a mushroom growth. About two hundred and 
fifty patients were harbored in a dozen or more small 
frame buildings, suggestive of a mill settlement. Out- 
side the limits of a city and in a state where there was lax 
official supervision, owing in part to faulty laws, the 
owner of this little settlement of woe had erected a nest 
of veritable fire-traps in which helpless sick people were 
forced to risk their lives. This was a necessary procedure 
if the owner was to grind out an exorbitant income on 
his investment. 
The same spirit of economy and commercialism per- 
vaded the entire institution. Its worst manifestation 
was in the employment of the meanest type of attendant 
—men willing to work for the paltry wage of eighteen dol- 
lars a month. Very seldom did competent attendants 
consent to work there, and then usually because of a 
scarcity of profitable employment elsewhere. Provi- 
dentially for me, such an attendant came upon the 
scene. This young man, so long as he remained in the 
good graces of the owner-superintendent, was admit- 
41 42 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
tedly one of the best attendants he had ever had. 
Yet aside from a five-dollar bill which a relative had 
sent me at Christmas and which I had refused to accept 
because of my belief that it, like my relatives, was coun- 
terfeit—aside from that bill, which was turned over to 
the attendant by my brother, he received no additional 
pecuniary rewards. His chief reward lay in his con- 
sciousness of the fact that he was protecting me against 
injustices which surely would have been visited upon me 
had he quitted his position and left me to the mercies of 
the owner and his ignorant assistants. To-day, with 
deep appreciation, I contrast the treatment I received 
at his hands with that which I suffered during the three 
weeks preceding his appearance on the scene. During 
that period, no fewer than seven attendants contrib- 
uted to my misery. Though some of them were perhaps 
decent enough fellows outside a sickroom, not one had 
the right to minister to a patient in my condition. 
The two who were first put in charge of me did not 
strike me with their fists or even threaten to do so; but 
their unconscious lack of consideration for my comfort 
and peace of mind was torture. They were typical 
eighteen-dollar-a-month attendants. Another of the 
same sort, on one occasion, cursed me with a degree of 
brutality which I prefer not to recall, much less record. 
And a few days later the climax was appropriately 
capped when still another attendant perpetrated an 
outrage which a sane man would have resented to the 
point of homicide. He was a man of the coarsest type. 
His hands would have done credit to a longshoreman— A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
43 
fingers knotted and nearly twice the normal size. Be- 
cause I refused to obey a peremptory command, and this 
at a time when I habitually refused even on pain of imag- 
ined torture to obey or to speak, this brute not only cursed 
me with abandon, he deliberately spat upon me. I was 
a mental incompetent, but like many others in a similar 
position I was both by antecedents and by training a 
gentleman. Vitriol could not have seared my flesh more 
deeply than the venom of this human viper stung my 
soul! Yet, as I was rendered speechless by delusions, I 
could offer not so much as a word of protest. I trust that 
it is not now too late, however, to protest in behalf of 
the thousands of outraged patients in private and state 
hospitals whose mute submission to such indignities has 
never been recorded. 
Of the readiness of an unscrupulous owner to employ 
inferior attendants, I shall offer a striking illustration. 
The capable attendant who acted as my protector at this 
sanatorium has given me an affidavit embodying certain 
facts which, of course, I could not have known at the time 
of their occurrence. The gist of this sworn statement is as 
follows: One day a man—seemingly a tramp—approached 
the main building of the sanatorium and inquired for 
the owner. He soon found him, talked with him a few 
minutes, and an hour or so later he was sitting at the bed- 
side of an old and infirm man. This aged patient had 
recently been committed to the institution by relatives 
who had labored under the common delusion that the 
payment of a considerable sum of money each week would 
insure kindly treatment. When this tramp-attendant 44 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
first appeared, all his visible worldly possessions were 
contained in a small bundle which he carried under his 
arm. So filthy were his person and his clothes that he re- 
ceived a compulsory bath and another suit before being 
assigned to duty. He then began to earn his four dollars 
and fifty cents a week by sitting several hours a day in 
the room with the aged man, sick unto death. My in- 
formant soon engaged him in conversation. What did 
he learn? First, that the uncouth stranger had never 
before so much as crossed the threshold of a hospital. 
His last job had been as a member of a section-gang on a 
railroad. From the roadbed of a railway to the bedside 
of a man about to die was indeed a change which might 
have taxed the adaptabib'ty of a more versatile being. 
But coarse as he was, this unkempt novice did not abuse 
his charge—except in so far as his inability to interpret 
or anticipate wants contributed to the sick man’s dis- 
tress. My own attendant, realizing that the patient 
was suffering for the want of skilled attention, spent a 
part of his time in this unhappy room, which was but 
across the hall from my own. The end soon came. 
My attendant, who had had training as a nurse, 
detected the unmistakable signs of impending death. He 
forthwith informed the owner of the sanatorium that the 
patient was in a dying condition, and urged him (a doc- 
tor) to go at once to the bedside. The doctor refused to 
comply with the request on the plea that he was at the 
time “ too busy.” When at last he did visit the room, the 
patient was dead. Then came the supervisor, who took 
charge of the body. As it was being carried from the A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
45 
room the supervisor, the “handy man” of the owner, 
said: “There goes the best paying patient the institution 
had; the doctor” (meaning the owner) “was getting 
eighty-five dollars a week out of him.” Of this sum not 
more than twenty dollars at most, at the time this hap- 
pened, could be considered as “cost of maintenance.” 
The remaining sixty-five dollars went into the pocket of 
the owner. Had the man lived for one year, the owner 
might have pocketed (so far as this one case was con- 
cerned) the neat but wicked profit of thirty-three hun- 
dred and eighty dollars. And what would the patient 
have received? The same privilege of living in neglect 
and dying neglected. VIII 
For the first few weeks after my arrival at the sanator- 
ium, I was cared for by two attendants, one by day and 
one by night. I was still helpless, being unable to put my 
feet out of bed, much less upon the floor, and it was 
necessary that I be continually watched lest an impulse 
to walk should seize me. After a month or six weeks, 
however, I grew stronger, and from that time only one 
person was assigned to care for me. He was with me 
all day, and slept at night in the same room. 
The earliest possible dismissal of one of my two attend- 
ants was expedient for the family purse; but such are the 
deficiencies in the prevailing treatment of the insane that 
relief in one direction often occasions evil in another. 
No sooner was the expense thus reduced than I was 
subjected to a detestable form of restraint which 
amounted to torture. To guard me at night while 
the remaining attendant slept, my hands were impris- 
oned in what is known as a “muff.” A muff, inno- 
cent enough to the eyes of those who have never worn 
one, is in reality a relic of the Inquisition. It is an 
instrument of restraint which has been in use for cen- 
turies and even in many of our public and private institu- 
tions is still in use. The muff I wore was made of can- 
vas, and differed in construction from a muff designed 
for the hands of fashion only in the inner partition, also 
of canvas, which separated my hands, but allowed them 
46 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
47 
to overlap. At either end was a strap which buckled 
tightly around the wrist and was locked. 
The assistant physician, when he announced to me 
that I was to be subjected at night to this restraint, broke 
the news gently—so gently that I did not then know, 
nor did I guess for several months, why this thing was 
done to me. And thus it was that I drew deductions of 
my own which added not a little to my torture. 
The gas jet in my room was situated at a distance, and 
stronger light was needed to find the keyholes and lock 
the muff when adjusted. Hence, an attendant was 
standing by with a lighted candle. Seating himself on 
the side of the bed, the physician said: “You won’t try 
again to do what you did in New Haven, will you?” 
Now one may have done many things in a city where he 
has lived for a score of years, and it is not surprising that 
I failed to catch the meaning of the doctor’s question. It 
was only after months of secret puzzling that I at last did 
discover his reference to my attempted suicide. But 
now the burning candle in the hands of the attendant, 
and a certain similarity between the doctor’s name 
and the name of a man whose trial for arson I once 
attended out of idle curiosity, led me to imagine that in 
some way I had been connected with that crime. For 
months I firmly believed I stood charged as an ac- 
complice. 
The putting on of the muff was the most humiliating 
incident of my life. The shaving of my legs and the 
wearing of the court-plaster brand of infamy had 
been humiliating, but those experiences had not over- 48 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
whelmed my very heart as did this bitter ordeal. I 
resisted weakly, and, after the muff was adjusted and 
locked, for the first time since my mental collapse I 
wept. And I remember distinctly why I wept. The 
key that locked the muff unlocked in imagination the 
door of the home in New Haven which I believed I had 
disgraced—and seemed for a time to unlock my heart. 
Anguish beat my mind into a momentary sanity, and 
with a wholly sane emotion I keenly felt my imagined 
disgrace. My thoughts centred on my mother. Her 
(and other members of the family) I could plainly see at 
home in a state of dejection and despair over her im- 
prisoned and heartless son. I wore the muff each night 
for several weeks, and for the first few nights the unhappy 
glimpses of a ruined home recurred and increased my 
sufferings. 
It was not always as an instrument of restraint that the 
muff was employed. Frequently it was used as a means 
of discipline on account of supposed stubborn disobedi- 
ence. Many times was I roughly overpowered by two 
attendants who locked my hands and coerced me to 
do whatever I had refused to do. My arms and hands 
were my only weapons of defence. My feet were still 
in plaster casts, and my back had been so severely 
injured as to necessitate my lying flat upon it most of 
the time. It was thus that these unequal fights were 
fought. And I had not even the satisfaction of 
tongue-lashing my oppressors, for I was practically 
speechless. 
My attendants, like most others in such institutions,. A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
49 
were incapable of understanding the operations of my 
mind, and what they could not understand they would 
seldom tolerate. Yet they were not entirely to blame. 
They were simply carrying out to the letter orders re- 
ceived from the doctors. 
To ask a patient in my condition to take a little medi- 
cated sugar seemed reasonable. But from my point of 
view my refusal was justifiable. That innocuous sugar 
disc to me seemed saturated with the blood of loved ones; 
and so much as to touch it was to shed their blood—per- 
haps on the very scaffold on which I was destined to die. 
For myself I cared little. I was anxious to die, and 
eagerly would I have taken the sugar disc had I had any 
reason to believe that it was deadly poison. The sooner 
I could die and be forgotten, the better for all with 
whom I had ever come in contact. To continue to live 
was simply to be the treacherous tool of unscrupulous 
detectives, eager to exterminate my innocent relatives 
and friends, if so their fame could be made secure in 
the annals of their craft. 
But the thoughts associated with the taking of the 
medicine were seldom twice alike. If before taking it 
something happened to remind me of mother, father, 
some other relative, or a friend, I imagined that compli- 
ance would compromise, if not eventually destroy, that 
particular person. Who would not resist when meek 
acceptance would be a confession which would doom his 
own mother or father to prison, or ignominy, or death? 
It was for this that I was reviled, for this, subjected to 
cruel restraint. A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
50 
They thought I was stubborn. In the strict sense of 
the word there is no such thing as a stubborn insane 
person. The truly stubborn men and women in the 
world are sane; and the fortunate prevalence of sanity 
may be approximately estimated by the preponderance 
of stubbornness in society at large. When one possessed 
of the power of recognizing his own errors continues to 
hold an unreasonable belief—that is stubbornness. 
But for a man bereft of reason to adhere to an idea which 
to him seems absolutely correct and true because he 
has been deprived of the means of detecting his error— 
that is not stubbornness. It is a symptom of his disease, 
and merits the indulgence of forbearance, if not genuine 
sympathy. Certainly the afflicted one deserves no 
punishment. As well punish with a blow the cheek that 
is disfigured by the mumps. 
The attendant who was with me most of the time while 
I remained at the sanatorium was the kindly one already 
mentioned. Him I regarded, however, as a detective, 
or, rather, as two detectives, one of whom watched me 
by day, and the other—a perfect double—by night. He 
was an enemy, and his professed sympathy—which I 
now know was genuine—only made me hate him the 
more. As he was ignorant of the methods of treatment 
in vogue in hospitals for the insane, it was several weeks 
before he dared put in jeopardy his position by pre- 
suming to shield me against unwise orders of the 
doctors. But when at last he awoke to the situation, 
he repeatedly intervened in my behalf. More than 
once the doctor who was both owner and superintend- A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
51 
ent threatened to discharge him for alleged officiousness. 
But better judgment usually held the doctor’s wrath 
in check, for he realized that not one attendant in a 
hundred was so competent. 
Not only did the friendly attendant frequently ex- 
hibit more wisdom than the superintendent, but he also 
obeyed the dictates of a better conscience than that of 
his nominal superior, the assistant physician. On three 
occasions this man treated me with a signal lack of 
consideration, and in at least one instance he was vi- 
cious. When this latter incident occurred, I was both 
physically and mentally helpless. My feet were swollen 
and still in plaster bandages. I was all but mute, utter- 
ing only an occasional expletive when forced to perform 
acts against my will. 
One morning Doctor No-name (he represents a type) 
entered my room. 
“Good morning! How are you feeling?” he asked. 
No answer. 
“Aren’t you feeling well?” 
No answer. 
“Why don’t you talk?” he asked with irritation. 
Still no answer, except perhaps a contemptuous look 
such as is so often the essence of eloquence. Suddenly, 
and without the slightest warning, as a petulant child 
locked in a room for disobedience might treat a pillow, 
he seized me by an arm and jerked me from the bed. 
It was fortunate that the bones of my ankles and feet, 
not yet thoroughly knitted, were not again injured. 
And this was the performance of the very man who had A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
52 
locked my hands in the muff, that I might not injure 
myself! 
“Why don’t you talk?” he again asked. 
Though rather slow in replying, I will take pleasure 
in doing so by sending that doctor a copy of this book 
—my answer—if he will but send me his address. 
It is not a pleasant duty to brand any physician for 
cruelty and incompetence, for the worst that ever lived 
has undoubtedly done many good deeds. But here is 
the type of man that has wrought havoc among the 
helpless insane. And the owner represented a type that 
has too long profited through the misfortunes of others. 
“Pay the price or put your relative in a public institu- 
tion!” is the burden of his discordant song before com- 
mitment. “Pay or get out!” is his jarring refrain when 
satisfied that the family’s resources are exhausted. I 
later learned that this grasping owner had bragged of 
making a profit of $98,000 in a single year. About 
twenty years later he left an estate of approximately 
$1,500,000. Some of the money, however, wrung from 
patients and their relatives in the past may yet benefit 
similar sufferers in the future, for, under the will of the 
owner, several hundred thousand dollars will eventu- 
ally be available as an endowment for the institution. IX 
It was at the sanatorium that my ankles were finally 
restored to a semblance of their former utility. They 
were there subjected to a course of heroic treatment; 
but as to-day they permit me to walk, run, dance, and 
play tennis and golf, as do those who have never 
been crippled, my hours of torture endured under 
my first attempts to walk are almost pleasant to recall. 
About five months from the date of my injury I was 
allowed, or rather compelled, to place my feet on the 
floor and attempt to walk. My ankles were still swollen, 
absolutely without action, and acutely sensitive to the 
slightest pressure. From the time they were hurt 
until I again began to talk—two years later—I asked 
not one question as to the probability of my ever regain- 
ing the use of them. The fact was, I never expected to 
walk naturally again. The desire of the doctors to have 
me walk I believed to be inspired by the detectives, of 
whom, indeed, I supposed the doctor himself to be 
one. Had there been any confession to make, I am sure 
it would have been yielded under the stress of this ulti- 
mate torture. The million needle points which, just 
prior to my mental collapse, seemed to goad my brain, 
now centred their unwelcome attention on the soles of 
my feet. Had the floor been studded with minute 
stilettos my sufferings could hardly have been more 
53 54 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
intense. For several weeks assistance was necessary 
with each attempt to walk, and each attempt was an 
ordeal. Sweat stood in beads on either foot, wrung from 
my blood by agony. Believing that it would be only 
a question of time when I should be tried, condemned, 
and executed for some one of my countless felonies, 
I thought that the attempt to prevent my continuing 
a cripple for the brief remainder of my days was 
prompted by anything but benevolence. 
The superintendent would have proved himself more 
humane had he not peremptorily ordered my attendant 
to discontinue the use of a support which, until the 
plaster bandages were removed, had enabled me to keep 
my legs in a horizontal position when I sat up. His 
order was that I should put my legs down and keep 
them down, whether it hurt or not. The pain was of 
course intense when the blood again began to circulate 
freely through tissues long unused to its full pressure, and 
so evident was my distress that the attendant ignored 
the doctor’s command and secretly favored me. He 
would remove the forbidden support for only a few 
minutes at a time, gradually lengthening the intervals 
until at last I was able to do without the support 
entirely. Before long and each day for several weeks 
I was forced at first to stagger and finally to walk 
across the room and back to the bed. The distance 
was increased as the pain diminished, until I was able 
to walk without more discomfort than a comparatively 
pleasant sensation of lameness. For at least two months 
after my feet first touched the floor I had to be carried A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
55 
up and downstairs, and for several months longer I went 
flat-footed. 
Delusions of persecution—which include “delusions 
of self-ref erence ”—though a source of annoyance while 
I was in an inactive state, annoyed and distressed me 
even more when I began to move about and was obliged 
to associate with other patients. To my mind, not 
only were the doctors and attendants detectives; each 
patient was a detective and the whole institution was a 
part of the Third Degree. Scarcely any remark was 
made in my presence that I could not twist into a 
cleverly veiled reference to myself. In each person 
I could see a resemblance to persons I had known, or to 
the principals or victims of the crimes with which I 
imagined myself charged. I refused to read; for to 
read veiled charges and fail to assert my innocence was 
to incriminate both myself and others. But I looked 
with longing glances upon all printed matter and, as 
my curiosity was continually piqued, this enforced 
abstinence grew to be well-nigh intolerable. 
It became again necessary to the family purse that 
every possible saving be made. Accordingly, I was trans- 
ferred from the main building, where I had a private 
room and a special attendant, to a ward where I was to 
mingle, under an aggregate sort of supervision, with 
fifteen or twenty other patients. Here I had no special 
attendant by day, though one slept in my room at night. 
Of this ward I had heard alarming reports—and these 
from the lips of several attendants. I was, therefore, 
greatly disturbed at the proposed change. But, the 56 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
transfer once accomplished, after a few days I really 
liked my new quarters better than the old. During the 
entire time I remained at the sanatorium I was more 
alert mentally than I gave evidence of being. But not 
until after my removal to this ward, where I was left 
alone for hours every day, did I dare to show my alert- 
ness. Here I even went so far on one occasion as to joke 
with the attendant in charge. He had been trying to 
persuade me to take a bath. I refused, mainly because 
I did not like the looks of the bath room, which, with its 
cement floor and central drain, resembled the room in 
which vehicles are washed in a modern stable. After 
all else had failed, the attendant tried the role of sym- 
pathizer. 
“Now I know just how you feel,” he said, “I can put 
myself in your place.” 
“Well, if you can, do it and take the bath yourself,” 
was my retort. 
The remark is brilliant by contrast with the dismal 
source from which it escaped. “Escaped” is the word; 
for the fear that I should hasten my trial by exhibiting 
too great a gain in health, mental or physical, was already 
upon me; and it controlled much of my conduct during 
the succeeding months of depression. 
Having now no special attendant, I spent many hours 
in my room, alone, but not absolutely alone, for some- 
where the eye of a detective was evermore upon me. 
Comparative solitude, however, gave me courage; and 
soon I began to read, regardless of consequences. 
During the entire period of my depression, every publi- A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
57 
cation seemed to have been written and printed for me, 
and me alone. Books, magazines, and newspapers seemed 
to be special editions. The fact that I well knew how 
inordinate would be the cost of such a procedure in no 
way shook my belief in it. Indeed, that I was costing 
my persecutors fabulous amounts of money was a source 
of secret satisfaction. My belief in special editions of 
newspapers was strengthened by items which seemed 
too trivial to warrant publication in any except editions 
issued for a special purpose. I recall a seemingly absurd 
advertisement, in which the phrase, “ Green Bluefish,” 
appeared. At the time I did not know that “ green ” 
was a term used to denote “ fresh ” or “ unsalted.” 
During the earliest stages of my illness I had lost count 
of time, and the calendar did not right itself until the 
day when I largely regained my reason. Meanwhile, 
the date on each newspaper was, according to my 
reckoning, two weeks out of the way. This confirmed 
my belief in the special editions as a part of the Third 
Degree. 
Most sane people think that no insane person can rea- 
son logically. But this is not so. Upon unreasonable 
premises I made most reasonable deductions, and that at 
the time when my mind was in its most disturbed condi- 
tion. Had the newspapers which I read on the day which 
I supposed to be February ist borne a January date, I 
might not then, for so long a time, have believed in spe- 
cial editions. Probably I should have inferred that the 
regular editions had been held back. But the newspapers 
I had were dated about two weeks ahead. Now if a sane 58 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
person on February ist receives a newspaper dated 
February 14th, he will be fully justified in thinking some- 
thing wrong, either with the publication or with himself. 
But the shifted calendar which had planted itself in my 
mind meant as much to me as the true calendar does to 
any sane business man. During the seven hundred and 
ninety-eight days of depression I drew countless incor- 
rect deductions. But, such as they were, they were de- 
ductions, and essentially the mental process was not 
other than that which takes place in a well-ordered mind. 
My gradually increasing vitality, although it increased 
my fear of trial, impelled me to take new risks. I began 
to read not only newspapers, but also such books as were 
placed within my reach. Yet had they not been placed 
there, I should have gone without them, for I would 
never ask even for what I greatly desired and knew 1 
could have for the asking. 
Whatever love of literature I now have dates from 
this time, when I was a mental incompetent and confined 
in an institution. Lying on a shelf in my room was a 
book by George Eliot. For several days I cast longing 
glances at it and finally plucked up the courage to 
take little nibbles now and then. These were so good 
that I grew bold and at last began openly to read 
the book. Its contents at the time made but little im- 
pression on my mind, but I enjoyed it. I read also some 
of Addison’s essays; and had I been fortunate enough to 
have made myself familiar with these earlier in life, I 
might have been spared the delusion that I could detect, 
in many passages, the altering hand of my persecutors. A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
59 
The friendly attendant, from whom I was now sepa- 
rated, tried to send his favors after me into my new 
quarters. At first he came in person to see me, but 
the superintendent soon forbade that, and also ordered 
him not to communicate with me in any way. It was 
this disagreement, and others naturally arising between 
such a doctor and such an attendant, that soon brought 
about the discharge of the latter. But “discharge” is 
hardly the word, for he had become disgusted with the 
institution, and had remained so long only because 
of his interest in me. Upon leaving, he informed the 
owner that he would soon cause my removal from the in- 
stitution. This he did. I left the sanatorium in March, 
1901, and remained for three months in the home of this 
kindly fellow, who lived with a grandmother and an 
aunt in Wallingford, a town not far from New Haven. 
It is not to be inferred that I entertained any affection 
for my friendly keeper. I continued to regard him as 
an enemy; and my life at his home became a monotonous 
round of displeasure. I took my three meals a day. I 
would sit listlessly for hours at a time in the house. 
Daily I went out—accompanied, of course—for short 
walks about the town. These were not enjoyable. I be- 
lieved everybody was familiar with my black record and 
expected me to be put to death. Indeed, I wondered 
why passers-by did not revile or even stone me. Once 
I was sure I heard a little girl call me “ Traitor! ” That, 
I believe, was my last “false voice,” but it made such an 
impression that I can even now recall vividly the appear- 
ance of that dreadful child. It was not surprising that 60 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
a piece of rope, old and frayed, which someone had 
carelessly thrown on a hedge by a cemetery that I 
sometimes passed, had for me great significance. 
During these three months I again refused to read 
books, though within my reach, but I sometimes read 
newspapers. Still I would not speak, except under 
some unusual stress of emotion. The only time I took 
the initiative in this regard while living in the home 
of my attendant was on a bitterly cold and snowy day 
when I had the temerity to tell him that the wind had 
blown the blanket from a horse that had been standing 
for a long time in front of the house. The owner had 
come inside to transact some business with my attend- 
ant’s relatives. In appearance he reminded me of the 
uncle to whom this book is dedicated. I imagined the 
mysterious caller was impersonating him and, by one of 
my curious mental processes, I deduced that it was 
incumbent on me to do for the dumb beast outside 
what I knew my uncle would have done had he been 
aware of its plight. My reputation for decency of feel- 
ing I believed to be gone forever; but I could not bear, 
in this situation, to be unworthy of my uncle, who, 
among those who knew him, was famous for his kind- 
liness and humanity. 
My attendant and his relatives were very kind and 
very patient, for I was still intractable. But their 
efforts to make me comfortable, so far as they had 
any effect, made keener my desire to kill myself. I 
shrank from death; but I preferred to die by my 
own hand and take the blame for it, rather than to A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
61 
be executed and bring lasting disgrace on my family, 
friends, and, I may add with truth, on Yale. For I 
reasoned that parents throughout the country would 
withhold their sons from a university which numbered 
among its graduates such a despicable being. But 
from any tragic act I was providentially restrained by 
the very delusion which gave birth to the desire—in a 
way which signally appeared on a later and, to me, a 
memorable day. X 
I am in a position not unlike that of a man whose 
obituary notice has appeared prematurely. Few have 
ever had a better opportunity than I to test the affection 
of their relatives and friends. That mine did their 
duty and did it willingly is naturally a constant source 
of satisfaction to me. Indeed, I believe that this 
unbroken record of devotion is one of the factors which 
eventually made it possible for me to take up again my 
duties in the social and business world, with a comfort- 
able feeling of continuity. I can, indeed, now view my 
past in as matter-of-fact a way as do those whose lives 
have been uniformly uneventful. 
As I have seen scores of patients neglected by their 
relatives—a neglect which they resent and often brood 
upon—my sense of gratitude is the livelier, and especially 
so because of the difficulty with which friendly inter- 
course with me was maintained during two of the 
three years I was ill. Relatives and friends frequently 
called to see me. True, these calls were trying for all 
concerned. I spoke to none, not even to my mother 
and father. For, though they all appeared about as 
they used to do, I was able to detect some slight difference 
in look or gesture or intonation of voice, and this was 
enough to confirm my belief that they were imperson- 
62 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
63 
ators, engaged in a conspiracy, not merely to entrap 
me, but to incriminate those whom they impersonated. 
It is not strange, then, that I refused to say anything 
to them, or to permit them to come near me. To 
have kissed the woman who was my mother, but whom 
I believed to be a federal conspirator, would have been 
an act of betrayal. These interviews were much harder 
for my relatives and friends than for me. But even 
for me they were ordeals; and though I suffered less at 
these moments than my callers, my sum of suffering 
was greater, for I was constantly anticipating these 
unwelcome, but eventually beneficial, visitations. 
Suppose my relatives and friends had held aloof during 
this apparently hopeless period, what to-day would be 
my feelings toward them? Let others answer. For 
over two years I considered all letters forgeries. Yet 
the day came when I convinced myself of their genuine- 
ness and the genuineness of the love of those who sent 
them. Perhaps persons who have relatives among the 
more than a quarter of a million patients in institu- 
tions in this country to-day will find some comfort in 
this fact. To be on the safe and humane side, let every 
relative and friend of persons so afflicted remember the 
Golden Rule, which has never been suspended with 
respect to the insane. Go to see them, treat them 
sanely, write to them, keep them informed about the 
home circle; let not your devotion flag, nor accept 
any repulse. 
The consensus now was that my condition was un- 
likely ever to improve, and the question of my commit- 64 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
ment to some institution where incurable cases could be 
cared for came up for decision. While it was being con- 
sidered, my attendant kept assuring me that it would be 
unnecessary to commit me to an institution if I would 
but show some improvement. So he repeatedly sug- 
gested that I go to New Haven and spend a day at 
home. At this time, it will be recalled, I was all but 
mute, so, being unable to beguile me into speech, the 
attendant one morning laid out for my use a more fash- 
ionable shirt than I usually wore, telling me to put it on 
if I wished to make the visit. That day it took me an 
unusually long time to dress, but in the end I put on the 
designated garment. Thus did one part of my brain 
outwit another. 
I simply chose the less of two evils. The greater 
was to find myself again committed to an institution. 
Nothing else would have induced me to go to New 
Haven. I did not wish to go. To my best knowledge 
and belief, I had no home there, nor did I have any 
relatives or friends who would greet me upon my 
return. How could they, if still free, even approach 
me while I was surrounded by detectives? Then, too, 
I had a lurking suspicion that my attendant’s offer was 
made in the belief that I would not dare accept it. By 
taking him at his word, I knew that I should at least have 
an opportunity to test the truth of many of his state- 
ments regarding my old home. Life had become insup- 
portable; and back of my consent to make this experi- 
mental visit was a willingness to beard the detectives in 
their own den, regardless of consequences. With these A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
65 
and many other reflections I started for the train. The 
events of the journey which followed are of no moment. 
We soon reached the New Haven station; and, as I had 
expected, no relative or friend was there to greet us. 
This apparent indifference seemed to support my suspi- 
cion that my attendant had not told me the truth; but 
I found little satisfaction in uncovering his deceit, for 
the more of a liar I proved him to be, the worse would 
be my plight. We walked to the front of the station 
and stood there for almost half an hour. The unfortu- 
nate, but perfectly natural, wording of a question caused 
the delay. 
“Well, shall we go home?” my attendant said. 
How could I say, “Yes”? I had no home. I feel sure 
I should finally have said, “No,” had he continued to put 
the question in that form. Consciously or unconsciously, 
however, he altered it. “Shall we go to 30 Trumbull 
Street? ” That was what I had been waiting for. Cer- 
tainly I would go to the house designated by that num- 
ber. I had come to New Haven to see that house; and 
I had just a faint hope that its appearance and the 
appearance of its occupants might prove convincing. 
At home my visit came as a complete surprise. I could 
not believe that my relatives—if they were relatives—had 
not been informed of my presence in the city, and their 
words and actions upon my arrival confirmed my suspicion 
and extinguished the faint hope I had briefly cherished. 
My hosts were simply the same old persecutors with 
whom I had already had too much to do. Soon after my 
arrival, dinner was served. I sat at my old place at the 66 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
table, and secretly admired the skill with which he who 
asked the blessing imitated the language and the well- 
remembered intonation of my father’s voice. But alas 
for the family!—I imagined my relatives banished and 
languishing in prison, and the old home confiscated by 
the government! XI 
Though my few hours at home failed to prove that I 
did not belong in an institution, it served one good 
purpose. Certain relatives who had objected to my 
commitment now agreed that there was no alternative, 
and, accordingly, my eldest brother caused himself to be 
appointed my conservator. He had long favored tak- 
ing such action, but other relatives had counseled delay. 
They had been deterred by that inbred dread of seeing a 
member of the family branded by law as a mental 
incompetent, and, to a degree, stigmatized by the pre- 
vailing unwarranted attitude of the public toward 
mental illness and the institutions in which mental cases 
are treated. The very thought was repellent; and a 
mistaken sense of duty—and perhaps a suggestion of 
pride—led them to wish me out of such an institution as 
long as possible. 
Though at the time I dreaded commitment, it was the 
best possible thing that could befall me. To be, as I 
was, in the world but not of it, was exasperating. The 
constant friction that is inevitable under such conditions 
—conditions such as existed for me in the home of my 
attendant—can only aggravate the mental disturbance. 
Especially is this true of those laboring under delusions 
of persecution. Such delusions multiply with the com- 
plexity of the life led. It is the even-going routine of 
67 68 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
institutional life which affords the indispensable quieting 
effect—provided that routine is well ordered, and not 
defeated by annoyances imposed by ignorant or indif- 
ferent doctors and attendants. 
My commitment occurred on June nth, 1901. The 
institution to which I was committed was a chartered, 
private institution, but not run for personal profit. It 
was considered one of the best of its kind in the country 
and was pleasantly situated. Though the view was a 
restricted one, a vast expanse of lawn, surrounded by 
groups of trees, like patches of primeval forest, gave the 
place an atmosphere which was not without its remedial 
effect. My quarters were comfortable, and after a 
little time I adjusted myself to my new environment. 
Breakfast was served about half-past seven, though 
the hour varied somewhat according to the season—ear- 
lier in summer and later in winter. In the spring, sum- 
mer, and autumn, when the weather was favorable, those 
able to go out of doors were taken after breakfast for 
walks within the grounds, or were allowed to roam about 
the lawn and sit under the trees, where they remained for 
an hour or two at a time. Dinner was usually served 
shortly after noon, and then the active patients were 
again taken out of doors, where they remained an hour or 
two doing much as they pleased, but under watchful eyes. 
About half-past three they returned to their respective 
wards, there to remain until the next day—except those 
who cared to attend the religious service which was held 
almost every afternoon in an endowed chapel. 
In all institutions those confined in different kinds of A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
69 
wards go to bed at different hours. The patients in the 
best wards retire at nine or ten o’clock. Those in the 
wards where more troublesome cases are treated go to 
bed usually at seven or eight o’clock. I, while under- 
going treatment, have retired at all hours, so that I am 
in the better position to describe the mysteries of what is, 
in a way, one of the greatest secret societies in the world. 
I soon became accustomed to the rather agreeable 
routine, and had I not been burdened with the delusions 
which held me a prisoner of the police, and kept me a 
stranger to my old world, I should have been able to 
enjoy a comparatively happy existence in spite of all. 
This new feeling of comparative contentment had 
not been brought about by any marked improvement 
in health. It was due directly and entirely to an 
environment more nearly in tune with my ill-tuned 
mind. While surrounded by sane people my mental 
inferiority had been painfully apparent to me, as well 
as to others. Here a feeling of superiority easily asserted 
itself, for many of my associates were, to my mind, 
vastly inferior to myself. But this stimulus did not 
affect me at once. For several weeks I believed the 
institution to be peopled by detectives, feigning insanity. 
The government was still operating the Third Degree, 
only on a grander scale. Nevertheless, I did soon 
come to the conclusion that the institution was what it 
purported to be—still cherishing the idea, however, that 
certain patients and attaches were detectives. 
For a while after my arrival I again abandoned my 
new-found reading habit. But as I became accustomed A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
70 
to my surroundings I grew bolder and resumed the 
reading of newspapers and such books as were at hand. 
There was a bookcase in the ward, filled with old numbers 
of standard English periodicals; among them: West- 
minster Review, Edinburgh Review, London Quarterly, 
and Blackwood’s. There were also copies of Harper’s 
and The Atlantic Monthly, dated a generation or more 
before my first reading days. Indeed, some of the re- 
views were over fifty years old. But I had to read 
their heavy contents or go without reading, for I would 
not yet ask even for a thing I ardently desired. In 
the room of one of the patients were thirty or forty 
books belonging to him. Time and again I walked by 
his door and cast longing glances at those books, 
which at first I had not the courage to ask for or to take. 
But during the summer, about the time I was getting 
desperate, I finally managed to summon enough courage 
to take them surreptitiously. It was usually while the 
owner of these books was attending the daily service in 
the chapel that his library became a circulating one. 
The contents of the books I read made perhaps a 
deeper impression on my memory than most books make 
on the minds of normal readers. To assure myself of 
the fact, I have since reread “The Scarlet Letter,” and 
I recognize it as an old friend. The first part of the 
story, however, wherein Hawthorne describes his work 
as a Custom House official and portrays his literary 
personality, seems to have made scarcely any impres- 
sion. This I attribute to my utter lack of interest 
at that time in writers and their methods. I then A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
71 
had no desire to write a book, nor any thought of ever 
doing so. 
Letters I looked upon with suspicion. I never read 
them at the time they were received. I would not even 
open them; but generally, after a week or sometimes a 
month, I would secretly open and read them—forgeries of 
the detectives. 
I still refused to speak, and exhibited physical activity 
only when the patients were taken out of doors. For 
hours I would sit reading books or newspapers, or appar- 
ently doing nothing. But my mind was in an active 
state and very sensitive. As the event proved, almost 
everything done or said within the range of my senses 
was making indelible impressions, though these at the 
time were frequently of such a character that I experi- 
enced great difficulty in trying to recall incidents which 
I thought I might find useful at the time of my appear- 
ance in court. 
My ankles had not regained anything like their former 
strength. It hurt to walk. For months I continued to 
go flat-footed. I could not sustain my weight with heels 
lifted from the floor. In going downstairs I had to 
place my insteps on the edge of each step, or go one step 
at a time, like a child. Believing that the detectives 
were pampering me into prime condition, as a butcher 
fattens a beast for slaughter, I deliberately made myself 
out much weaker than I really was; and not a little of my 
inactivity was due to a desire to prolong my fairly com- 
fortable existence, by deferring as long as possible the 
day of trial and conspicuous disgrace. 72 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
But each day still had its distressing incidents. 
Whenever the attendants were wanted at the office, 
an electric bell was rung. During the fourteen months 
that I remained in this hospital in a depressed con- 
dition, the bell in my ward rang several hundred 
times. Never did it fail to send through me a mild 
shock of terror, for I imagined that at last the hour had 
struck for my transportation to the scene of trial. 
Relatives and friends would be brought to the ward— 
heralded, of course, by a warning bell—and short inter- 
views would be held in my room, during which the 
visitors had to do all the talking. My eldest brother, 
whom I shall refer to hereafter as my conservator, called 
often. He seldom failed to use one phrase which 
worried me. 
“You are looking better and getting stronger,” he 
would say. “We shall straighten you out yet.” 
To be “straightened out” was an ambiguous phrase 
which might refer to the end of the hangman’s rope or 
to a fatal electric shock. 
I preferred to be let alone, and the assistant physician 
in charge of my case, after several ineffectual attempts to 
engage me in conversation, humored my persistent taci- 
turnity. For more than a year his only remarks to me 
were occasional conventional salutations. Subsequent 
events have led me to doubt the wisdom of his policy. 
For one year no further attention was paid to me than 
to see that I had three meals a day, the requisite number 
of baths, and a sufficient amount of exercise. I was, 
however, occasionally urged by an attendant to write a A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
73 
letter to some relative, but that, of course, I refused to 
do. As I shall have many hard things to say about 
attendants in general, I take pleasure in testifying that, 
so long as I remained in a passive condition, those at this 
institution were kind, and at times even thoughtful. 
But there came a time when diplomatic relations with 
doctors and attendants became so strained that war 
promptly ensued. 
It was no doubt upon the gradual, but sure improve- 
ment in my physical condition that the doctors were 
relying for my eventual return to normality. They 
were not without some warrant for this. In a way I had 
become less suspicious, but my increased confidence was 
due as much to an increasing indifference to my fate as to 
an improvement in health And there were other signs 
of improved mental vigor. I was still watchful, how- 
ever, for a chance to end my life, and, but for a series 
of fortunate circumstances, I do not doubt that my 
choice of evils would have found tragic expression in an 
overt act. 
Having convinced myself that most of my associates 
were really insane, and therefore (as I believed) dis- 
qualified as competent witnesses in a court of law, I 
would occasionally engage in conversation with a few 
whose evident incompetency seemed to make them safe 
confidants. One, a man who during his life had more 
than once been committed to an institution, took a very 
evident interest in me and persisted in talking to me, 
often much against my will. His persistent inquisitive- 
ness seemed to support his own statement that he had 74 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
formerly been a successful life-insurance agent. He 
finally gained my confidence to such a degree that 
months before I finally began to talk to others I permitted 
myself to converse frequently with him—but only when 
we were so situated as to escape observation. I would 
talk to him on almost any subject, but would not speak 
about myself. At length, however, his admirable per- 
sistence overcame my reticence. During a conversation 
held in June, 1902, he abruptly said, “ Why you are kept 
here I cannot understand. Apparently you are as sane 
as anyone. You have never made any but sensible 
remarks to me.” Now for weeks I had been waiting for 
a chance to tell this man my very thoughts. I had come 
to believe him a true friend who would not betray me. 
“If I should tell you some things which you apparently 
don’t know, you would understand why I am held here,” 
I said. 
“Well, tell me,” he urged. 
“Will you promise not to repeat my statements to any 
one else? ” 
“I promise not to say a word.” 
“Well,” I remarked, “you have seen certain persons 
who have come here, professing to be relatives of mine.” 
“Yes, and they are your relatives, aren’t they?” 
“They look like my relatives, but they’re not,” was 
my reply. 
My inquisitive friend burst into laughter and said, 
“Well, if you mean that, I shall have to take back what 
I just said. You are really the craziest person I have 
ever met, and I have met several.” A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
75 
“You will think differently some day/’ I replied; for I 
believed that when my trial should occur, he would ap- 
preciate the significance of my remark. I did not tell 
him that I believed these callers to be detectives; nor did 
I hint that I thought myself in the hands of the 
police. 
Meanwhile, during July and August, 1902,1 redoubled 
my activity in devising suicidal schemes; for I now 
thought my physical condition satisfactory to my ene- 
mies, and was sure that my trial could not be post- 
poned beyond the next opening of the courts in Septem- 
ber. I even went so far as to talk to one of the attend- 
ants, a medical student, who during the summer worked 
as an attendant at the hospital. I approached him 
artfully. First I asked him to procure from the library 
for me “The Scarlet Letter,” “The House of the Seven 
Gables,” and other books; then I talked medicine and 
finally asked him to lend me a textbook on anatomy 
which I knew he had in his possession. This he did, 
cautioning me not to let anyone know that he had 
done so. The book once secured, I lost no time in 
examining that part which described the heart, its 
functions, and especially its exact position in the body. 
I had scarcely begun to read when the young man re- 
turned and took the book from me, giving as his reason 
that an attendant had no right to let a patient read a 
medical work. Maybe his change of heart was provi- 
dential. 
As is usual in these institutions, all knives, forks, and 
other articles that might be used by a patient for 76 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
a dangerous purpose were counted by the attendants 
after each meal. This I knew, and the knowledge had a 
deterrent effect. I dared not take one. Though I might 
at any time during the night have hanged myself, that 
method did not appeal to me, and I kept it in mind only 
as a last resort. To get possession of some sharp dagger- 
like instrument which I could plunge into my heart at a 
moment’s notice—this was my consuming desire. With 
such a weapon I felt that I could, when the crisis came, 
rob the detectives of their victory. During the summer 
months an employe spent his entire time mowing the 
lawn with a large horse-drawn machine. This, when 
not in use, was often left outdoors. Upon it was a square 
wooden box, containing certain necessary tools, among 
them a sharp, spike-like instrument, used to clean the 
oil-holes when they became clogged. This bit of 
steel was five or six inches long, and was shaped like a 
pencil. For at least three months, I seldom went out 
of doors that I did not go with the intention of purloin- 
ing that steel spike. I intended then to keep it in my 
room against the day of my anticipated transfer to jail. 
It was now that my delusions protected me from the 
very fate they had induced me to court. For had I not 
believed that the eye of a detective was on me every 
moment, I could have taken that spike a score of times. 
Often, when it was not in use, I walked to the lawn- 
mower and even laid my hand upon the tool-box. But 
I dared not open it. My feelings were much like those 
of Pandora about a certain other box. In my case, 
however, the box upon which I looked with longing A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
77 
had Hope without, and not within. Instinctively, 
perhaps, I realized this, for I did not lift the lid. 
One day, as the patients were returning to their wards, 
I saw, lying directly in my path (I could even now point 
out the spot), the coveted weapon. Never have I seen 
anything that I wanted more. To have stooped and 
picked it up without detection would have been easy; 
and had I known, as I know now, that it had been 
carelessly dropped there, nothing could have prevented 
me from doing so and perhaps using it with fatal effect. 
But I believed it had been placed there deliberately and 
as a test, by those who had divined my suicidal purpose. 
The eye of the imagined detective, which, I am inclined 
to believe, and like to believe, was the eye of the real 
God, was upon me; and though I stepped directly over 
it, I did not pick up that thing of death. XII 
When I had decided that my chance for securing the 
little stiletto spike was very uncertain, I at once busied 
myself with plans which were designed to bring about my 
death by drowning. There was in the ward a large 
bath tub. Access to it could be had at any time, except 
from the hour of nine (when the patients were locked 
in their rooms for the night) until the following morn- 
ing. How to reach it during the night was the prob- 
lem which confronted me. The attendant in charge 
was supposed to see that each patient was in his room 
before his door was locked. As it rarely happened that 
the patients were not in their rooms at the appointed 
time, the attendants naturally grew careless, and often 
locked a door without looking in. “Good night”—a 
salutation usually devoid of sentiment—might, or might 
not, elicit a response, and the absence of a response 
would not tend to arouse suspicion—especially in a case 
like mine, for I would sometimes say “good night,” but 
more often not. 
My simple and easy plan was to hide behind a piece of 
furniture in the corridor and there remain until the 
attendant had locked the doors of the rooms and gone 
to bed. I had even advanced so far in my plan 
as to select a convenient nook within twenty feet 
of my own room. Should the attendant, when about 
78 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
79 
to lock the door, discover my absence, I should, 
of course, immediately reveal my hiding-place by leav- 
ing it; and it would have been an easy matter to 
convince him that I had done the thing as a test of his 
own vigilance. On the other hand, if I escaped dis- 
covery, I should then have nine hours at my disposal 
with little fear of interruption. True, the night watch 
passed through the ward once every hour. But death 
by drowning requires a time no longer than that neces- 
sary to boil an egg. I had even calculated how long it 
would take to fill the tub with water. To make sure of 
a fatal result, I had secreted a piece of wire which I 
intended so to use that my head, once under water, could 
by no possibility be raised above the surface in the 
inevitable death struggle. 
I have said that I did not desire death; nor did I. 
Had the supposed detectives been able to convince me 
that they would keep their word, I would willingly have 
signed an agreement stipulating on my side that I must 
live the rest of my life in confinement, and on theirs 
that I should never undergo a trial for crime. 
Fortunately, during these dismal preparations, I had 
not lost interest in other schemes which probably saved 
my life. In these the fellow-patient who had won my 
confidence played the role of my own private detective. 
That he and I could defeat the combined forces arrayed 
against me hardly seemed probable, but the seeming 
impossibility of so doing only lent zest to the under- 
taking. My friend, who, of course, did not realize that 
he was engaged in combat with the Secret Service, was 80 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
allowed to go where he pleased within the limits of the 
city where the hospital was situated. Accordingly 
I determined to enlist his services. It was during July 
that, at my suggestion, he tried to procure copies of 
certain New Haven newspapers, of the date of my 
attempted suicide and the several dates immediately fol- 
lowing. My purpose was to learn what motive had been 
ascribed to my suicidal act. I felt sure that the papers 
would contain at least hints as to the nature of the 
criminal charges against me. But my purpose I did 
not disclose to my friend. In due time he reported that 
no copies for the given dates were to be had. So that 
quest proved fruitless, and I attributed the failure to 
the superior strategy of the enemy. 
Meanwhile, my friend had not stopped trying to 
convince me that my apparent relatives were not spu- 
rious; so one day I said to him: “If my relatives still 
live in New Haven, their addresses must be in the 
latest New Haven Directory. Here is a list containing 
the names and former addresses of my father, brother, 
and uncle. These were their addresses in 1900. 
To-morrow, when you go out, please see whether they 
appear in the New Haven Directory for 1902. These 
persons who present themselves to me as relatives 
pretend to live at these addresses. If they speak the 
truth, the 1902 Directory will corroborate them. I shall 
then have hope that a letter sent to any one of these 
addresses will reach relatives—and surely some atten- 
tion will be paid to it.” 
The next day, my own good detective went to a local A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
81 
publishing house where directories of important cities 
throughout the country could be consulted. Shortly 
after he went upon this errand, my conservator 
appeared. He found me walking about the lawn. 
At his suggestion we sat down. Bold in the assurance 
that I could kill myself before the crisis came, I talked 
with him freely, replying to many of his questions 
and asking several. My conservator, who did not know 
that I doubted his identity, commented with manifest 
pleasure on my new-found readiness to talk. He would 
have been less pleased, however, had he been able to 
read my mind. 
Shortly after my conservator’s departure, my fellow- 
patient returned and informed me that the latest New 
Haven Directory contained the names and addresses I 
had given him. This information, though it did not 
prove that my morning caller was no detective, did 
convince me that my real brother still lived where he did 
when I left New Haven, two years earlier. Now that my 
delusions were growing weaker, my returning reason 
enabled me to construct the ingenious scheme which, 
I believe, saved my life; for, had I not largely regained 
my reason when I did, I am inclined to believe that 
my distraught mind would have destroyed itself and me, 
before it could have been restored by the slow process of 
returning health. 
A few hours after my own private detective had given 
me the information I so much desired, I wrote the first 
letter I had written in twenty-six months. As letters go, 
it is in a class by itself. I dared not ask for ink, so I wrote 82 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
with a lead pencil. Another fellow-patient in whom I had 
confidence, at my request, addressed the envelope; but he 
was not in the secret of its contents. This was an 
added precaution, for I thought the Secret Service men 
might have found out that I had a detective of my own 
and would confiscate any letters addressed by him or 
me. The next morning, my “detective” mailed the 
letter. That letter I still have, and I treasure it as 
any innocent man condemned to death would treasure 
a pardon. It should convince the reader that some- 
times a mentally disordered person, even one suffering 
from many delusions, can think and write clearly. An 
exact copy of this—the most important letter I ever 
expect to be called upon to write—is here presented: 
August 29, 1902. 
Dear George: 
On last Wednesday morning a person who claimed to be George 
M. Beers of New Haven, Ct., clerk in the Director’s Office of the 
Sheffield Scientific School and a brother of mine, called to see me. 
Perhaps what he said was true, but after the events of the last 
two years I find myself inclined to doubt the truth of everything 
that is told me. He said that he would come and see me again 
sometime next week, and I am sending you this letter in order that 
you may bring it with you as a passport, provided you are the one 
who was here on Wednesday. 
If you did not call as stated please say nothing about this letter 
to anyone, and when your double arrives, I’ll tell him what I think 
of him. Would send other messages, but while things seem as 
they do at present it is impossible. Have had someone else 
address envelope for fear letter might be held up on the way. 
Yours, 
Clifford W. B. A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
83 
Though I felt reasonably confident that this message 
would reach my brother, I was by no means certain. 
I was sure, however, that, should he receive it, under no 
circumstances would he turn it over to anyone hostile to 
myself. When I wrote the words: “Dear George,” 
my feeling was much like that of a child who sends a 
letter to Santa Claus after his childish faith has been 
shaken. Like the skeptical child, I felt there was noth- 
ing to lose, but everything to gain. “Yours” fully 
expressed such affection for relatives as I was then 
capable of — for the belief that I had disgraced, per- 
haps destroyed, my family prompted me to forbear to 
use the family name in the signature. 
The thought that I might soon get in touch with my 
old world did not excite me. I had not much faith any- 
way that I was to re-establish former relations with it, 
and what little faith I had was all but destroyed on the 
morning of August 30th, 1902, when a short message, 
written on a slip of paper, reached me by the hand of an 
attendant. It informed me that my conservator would call 
that afternoon. I thought it a lie. I felt that any brother 
of mine would have taken the pains to send a letter in 
reply to the first I had written him in over two years. 
The thought that there had not been time for him to do 
so and that this message must have arrived by tele- 
phone did not then occur to me. What I believed was 
that my own letter had been confiscated. I asked 
one of the doctors to swear on his honor that it really was 
my own brother who was coming to see me. This he did. 
But abnormal suspicion robbed all men in my sight of 84 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
whatever honor they may have had, and I was not fully 
reassured. 
In the afternoon, as usual, the patients were taken 
out of doors, I among them. I wandered about the 
lawn and cast frequent and expectant glances toward 
the gate, through which I believed my anticipated visitor 
would soon pass. In less than an hour he appeared. 
I first caught sight of him about three hundred feet 
away, and, impelled more by curiosity than hope, I 
advanced to meet him. “I wonder what the lie will be 
this time,” was the gist of my thoughts. 
The person approaching me was indeed the counter- 
part of my brother as I remembered him. Yet he was no 
more my brother than he had been at any time during the 
preceding two years. He was still a detective. Such he 
was when I shook his hand. As soon as that ceremony 
was over, he drew forth a leather pocketbook. I instantly 
recognized it as one I myself had carried for several 
years prior to the time I was taken ill in 1900. It was 
from this that he took my recent letter. 
“Here’s my passport,” he said. 
“It’s a good thing you brought it,” I replied, as I 
glanced at it and again shook his hand—this time the 
hand of my own brother. 
“Don’t you want to read it?” he asked. 
“There is no need of that. I am convinced.” 
After my long journey of exploration in the jungle of a 
tangled imagination, a journey which finally ended in my 
finding the person for whom I had long searched, my be- 
havior differed very little from that of a great explorer A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
85 
who, full of doubt after a long and perilous trip through 
real jungles, found the man he sought and, grasping his 
hand, greeted him with the simple and historic words, 
“Dr. Livingstone, I presume?” 
The very instant I caught sight of my letter in the 
hands of my brother, all was changed. The thousands of 
false impressions recorded during the seven hundred and 
ninety-eight days of my depression seemed at once to 
correct themselves. Untruth became Truth. A large 
part of what was once my old world was again mine. 
To me, at least, my mind seemed to have found itself, for 
the gigantic web of false beliefs in which it had been 
all but hopelessly enmeshed I now immediately recog- 
nized as a snare of delusions. That the Gordian knot 
of mental torture should be cut and swept away by the 
mere glance of a willing eye is like a miracle. Not a 
few patients, however, suffering from certain forms of 
mental disorder, regain a high degree of insight into their 
mental condition in what might be termed a flash of di- 
vine enlightenment. Though insight regained seemingly 
in an instant is a most encouraging symptom, power to 
reason normally on all subjects cannot, of course, be so 
promptly recovered. My new power to reason cor- 
rectly on some subjects simply marked the transition 
from depression, one phase of my disorder, to elation, 
another phase of it. Medically speaking, I was as 
mentally disordered as before—yet I was happy! 
My memory during depression may be likened to a 
photographic film, seven hundred and ninety-eight days 
long. Each impression seems to have been made in a 86 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
negative way and then, in a fraction of a second, miracu- 
lously developed and made positive. Of hundreds of 
impressions made during that depressed period I had 
not before been conscious, but from the moment my 
mind, if not my full reason, found itself, they stood out 
vividly. Not only so, but other impressions registered 
during earlier years became clearer. Since that August 
30th, which I regard as my second birthday (my first was 
on the 30th of another month), my mind has exhibited 
qualities which, prior to that time, were so latent as to 
be scarcely distinguishable. As a result, I find myself 
able to do desirable things I never before dreamed of 
doing—the writing of this book is one of them. 
Yet had I failed to convince myself on August 30th, 
when my brother came to see me, that he was no spy, I 
am almost sure that I should have compassed my own 
destruction within the following ten days, for the next 
month, I believed, was the fatal one of opening courts. 
You will recall that it was death by drowning that 
impended. I liken my salvation itself to a prolonged 
process of drowning. Thousands of minutes of the seven 
hundred and ninety-eight days—and there were over one 
million of them, during which I had been borne down by 
intolerably burdensome delusions—were, I imagine, much 
like the last minutes of consciousness experienced by per- 
sons who drown. Many who have narrowly escaped 
that fate can testify to the vividness with which good 
and bad impressions of their entire life rush through 
their confused minds, and hold them in a grip of terror 
until a kind unconsciousness envelops them. Such A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
87 
had been many of my moments. But the only uncon- 
sciousness which had deadened my sensibilities during 
these two despondent years was that of sleep itself. 
Though I slept fairly well most of the time, mine 
was seldom a dreamless sleep. Many of my dreams 
were, if anything, harder to bear than my delusions of 
the day, for what little reason I had was absolutely 
suspended in sleep. Almost every night my brain was 
at battledore and shuttlecock with weird thoughts. 
And if not all my dreams were terrifying, this fact seemed 
to be only because a perverted and perverse Reason, in 
order that its possessor might not lose the capacity for 
suffering, knew how to keep Hope alive with visions 
which supplied the contrast necessary for keen apprecia- 
tion. 
No man can be born again, but I believe I came as 
near it as ever a man did. To leave behind what was in 
reality a hell, and immediately have this good green 
earth revealed in more glory than most men ever see it, 
was one of the compensating privileges which make 
me feel that my suffering was worth while. 
I have already described the peculiar sensation which 
assailed me when, in June, 1900, I lost my reason. 
At that time my brain felt as though pricked by a 
million needles at white heat. On this August 30th, 
1902, shortly after largely regaining my reason, I had 
another most distinct sensation in the brain. It started 
under my brow and gradually spread until the entire 
surface was affected. The throes of a dying Reason had 
been torture. The sensations felt as my dead Reason 88 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
was reborn were delightful. It seemed as though the 
refreshing breath of some kind Goddess of Wisdom were 
being gently blown against the surface of my brain. It 
was a sensation not unlike that produced by a menthol 
pencil rubbed ever so gently over a fevered brow. So 
delicate, so crisp and exhilarating was it that words fail 
me in my attempt to describe it. Few, if any, experiences 
can be more delightful. If the exaltation produced by 
some drugs is anything like it, I can easily understand 
how and why certain pernicious habits enslave those who 
contract them. For me, however, this experience was 
liberation, not enslavement. XIII 
After two years of silence I found it no easy matter to 
carry on with my brother a sustained conversation. So 
weak were my vocal cords from lack of use that every 
few minutes I must either rest or whisper. And upon 
pursing my lips I found myself unable to whistle, not- 
withstanding the popular belief, drawn from vague 
memories of small-boyhood, that this art is instinctive. 
Those who all their lives have talked at will cannot 
possibly appreciate the enjoyment I found in using my 
regained power of speech. Reluctantly I returned to 
the ward; but not until my brother had left for home, 
laden with so much of my conversation that it took most 
of his leisure for the next two days to tell the family 
what I had said in two hours. 
During the first few hours I seemed virtually normal. 
I had none of the delusions which had previously 
oppressed me; nor had I yet developed any of the 
expansive ideas, or delusions of grandeur, which soon 
began to crowd in upon me. So normal did I appear 
while talking to my brother that he thought I should be 
able to return home in a few weeks; and, needless to say, 
I agreed with him. But the pendulum, as it were, had 
swung too far. The human brain is too complex a 
mechanism to admit of any such complete readjustment 
in an instant. It is said to be composed of several million 
cells; and, that fact granted, it seems safe to say that 
89 90 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
every day, perhaps every hour, hundreds of thousands 
of the cells of my brain were now being brought into 
a state of renewed activity. Comparatively sane and 
able to recognize the important truths of life, I was yet 
insane as to many of its practical details. Judgment 
being King of the Realm of Thought, it was not sur- 
prising that my judgment failed often to decide correctly 
the many questions presented to it by its abnormally 
communicative subjects. At first I seemed to live a 
second childhood. I did with delight many things which 
I had first learned to do as a child—the more so as it 
had been necessary for me to learn again to eat and walk, 
and now to talk. I had much lost time to make up; 
and for a while my sole ambition seemed to be to utter 
as many thousand words a day as possible. My fellow- 
patients who for fourteen months had seen me walk 
about in silence—a silence so profound and inexorable 
that I would seldom heed their friendly salutations— 
were naturally surprised to see me in my new mood of 
unrestrained loquacity and irrepressible good humor. 
In short, I had come into that abnormal condition which 
is known to psychiatrists as elation. 
For several weeks I believe I did not sleep more than 
two or three hours a night. Such was my state of elation, 
however, that all signs of fatigue were entirely absent; 
and the sustained and abnormal mental and physical 
activity in which I then indulged has left on my mem- 
ory no other than a series of very pleasant impressions. 
Though based on fancy, the delights of some forms of 
mental disorder are real. Few, if any, sane persons A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
91 
would care to test the matter at so great a price; but 
those familiar with the “Letters of Charles Lamb ” must 
know that Lamb, himself, underwent treatment for 
mental disease. In a letter to Coleridge, dated June 
ioth, 1796, he says: “At some future time I will amuse 
you with an account, as full as my memory will permit, 
of the strange turns my frenzy took. I look back upon 
it at times with a gloomy kind of envy; for, while it 
lasted, I had many, many hours of pure happiness. 
Dream not, Coleridge, of having tasted all the grandeur 
and wildness of Fancy till you have gone mad! All 
now seems to me vapid, comparatively so!” 
As for me, the very first night vast but vague human- 
itarian projects began joyously to shape themselves in 
my mind. My garden of thoughts seemed filled 
with flowers which might properly be likened to the 
quick-blowing night-blooming cereus—that Delusion of 
Grandeur of all flowering plants that thinks itself 
prodigal enough if it but unmask its beauty to the 
moon! Few of my bold fancies, however, were of so 
fugitive and chaste a splendor. 
The religious instinct is found in primitive man. It is 
not strange, therefore, that at this time the religious side 
of my nature was the first to display compelling activity. 
Whether or not this was due to my rescue from a living 
death, and my immediate appreciation of God’s good- 
ness, both to me and to those faithful relatives who had 
done all the praying during the preceding two years— 
this I cannot say. But the fact stands out, that, whereas 
I had, while depressed, attached a sinister significance 92 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
to everything done or said in my presence, I now inter- 
preted the most trifling incidents as messages from 
God. The day after this transition I attended church. 
It was the first service in over two years which I had 
not attended against my will. The reading of a psalm 
—the 45th — made a lasting impression upon me, and 
the interpretation which I placed upon it furnishes 
the key to my attitude during the first weeks of elation. 
It seemed to me a direct message from Heaven. 
The minister began: “My heart is inditing a good mat- 
ter: I speak of the things which I have made touching the 
king: my tongue is the pen of a ready writer.”—Whose 
heart but mine? And the things indited—what were 
they but the humanitarian projects which had blossomed 
in my garden of thoughts over night? When, a few days 
later, I found myself writing very long letters with un- 
wonted facility, I became convinced that my tongue was 
to prove itself “the pen of a ready writer.” Indeed, to 
these prophetic words I trace the inception of an irresist- 
ible desire, of which this book is the first fruit. 
“Thou art fairer than the children of men; grace is 
poured into thy lips:” was the verse next read (by 
myself and the congregation), to which the minister 
responded, “Therefore God hath blessed thee for ever.” 
—“Surely, I have been selected as the instrument where- 
with great reforms shall be effected,” was my thought. 
(All is grist that comes to the mill of a mind in elation— 
then even divine encomiums seem not undeserved.) 
“ Gird thy sword upon thy thigh, O most mighty, with 
thy glory and thy majesty ”—a command to fight. A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
93 
“And in thy majesty ride prosperously because of truth 
and meekness and righteousness;” replied the minister. 
“And thy right hand shall teach thee terrible things,” 
—was another response. That I could speak the truth, I 
knew. “ Meekness” I could not associate with myself, 
except that during the preceding two years I had suffered 
many indignities without open resentment. That my 
right hand with a pen should teach me terrible things— 
how to fight for reform—I firmly believed. 
“Thine arrows are sharp in the heart of the King’s 
enemies, whereby the people fall under thee,” quoth the 
minister. Yes, my tongue could be as sharp as an arrow, 
and I should be able to stand up against those who should 
stand in the way of reform. Again: “Thou lovest right- 
eousness, and hatest wickedness. Therefore God, thy 
God, hath anointed thee with the oil of gladness above 
thy fellows.” The first sentence I did not apply to my- 
self; but being then, as I supposed, a man restored to 
himself, it was easy to feel that I had been anointed with 
the oil of gladness above my fellows. “Oil of gladness” 
is, in truth, an apt phrase wherewith to describe elation. 
The last two verses of the psalm corroborated the mes- 
sages found in the preceding verses: “I will make thy 
name to be remembered in all generations:”—thus the 
minister. “Therefore shall the people praise thee for 
ever and ever,” was the response I read. That spelled 
immortal fame for me, but only on condition that I 
should carry to a successful conclusion the mission of 
reform—an obligation placed upon me by God when 
He restored my reason. 94 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
When I set out upon a career of reform, I was impelled 
to do so by motives in part like those which seem to 
have possessed Don Quixote when he set forth, as 
Cervantes says, with the intention “of righting every 
kind of wrong, and exposing himself to peril and danger, 
from which in the issue he would obtain eternal renown 
and fame.” In likening myself to Cervantes’ mad hero 
my purpose is quite other than to push myself within 
the charmed circle of the chivalrous. What I wish to 
do is to make plain that a man abnormally elated may 
be swayed irresistibly by his best instincts, and that 
while under the spell of an exaltation, idealistic in de- 
gree, he may not only be willing, but eager to assume 
risks and endure hardships which under normal con- 
ditions he would assume reluctantly, if at all. In justice 
to myself, however, I may remark that my plans for 
reform have never assumed quixotic, and, therefore, im- 
practicable, proportions. At no time have I gone a-tilt- 
ing at windmills. A pen rather than a lance has been 
my weapon of offence and defence; for with its point 
I have felt sure that I should one day prick the civic 
conscience into a compassionate activity, and thus bring 
into a neglected field earnest men and women who 
should act as champions for those afflicted thousands 
least able to fight for themselves. XIV 
After being without relatives and friends for over two 
years I naturally lost no time in trying again to get in 
touch with them; though I did heed my conservator’s 
request that I first give him two or three days in which 
to acquaint intimates with the new turn my affairs had 
taken. 
During the latter part of that first week I wrote many 
letters, so many, indeed, that I soon exhausted a liberal 
supply of stationery. This had been placed at my 
disposal at the suggestion of my conservator, who had 
wisely arranged that I should have whatever I wanted, if 
expedient. It was now at my own suggestion that the 
supervisor gave me large sheets of manila wrapping 
paper. These I proceeded to cut into strips a foot wide. 
One such strip, four feet long, would suffice for a mere 
billet-doux; but a real letter usually required several 
such strips pasted together. More than once letters 
twenty or thirty feet long were written; and on one 
occasion the accumulation of two or three days of 
excessive productivity, when spread upon the floor, 
reached from one end of the corridor to the other—a 
distance of about one hundred feet. My hourly output 
was something like twelve feet, with an average of 
one hundred and fifty words to the foot. Under the 
pressure of elation one takes pride in doing everything 
95 96 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
in record time. Despite my speed my letters were 
not incoherent. They were simply digressive, which was 
to be expected, as elation befogs one’s “goal idea.” 
Though these epistolary monstrosities were launched, 
few reached those to whom they were addressed; for 
my conservator had wisely ordered that my literary 
output be sent in bulk to him. His action was exasper- 
ating, but later I realized that he had done me a great 
favor when he interposed his judgment between my 
red-hot mentality and the cool minds of the worka- 
day world. Yet this interference with what I deemed 
my rights proved to be the first step in the general 
overruling of them by tactless attendants and, in par- 
ticular, by a certain assistant physician. 
I had always shown a strong inclination to super- 
intend. In consequence, in my elated condition it was 
but natural that I should have an excess of executive 
impulses. In order to decrease this executive pressure 
I proceeded to assume entire charge of that portion 
of the hospital in which I happened at the moment 
to be confined. What I eventually issued as impera- 
tive orders were often presented at first as polite sug- 
gestions. But, if my suggestions were not accorded a 
respectful hearing, and my demands acted upon at once, 
I invariably supplemented them with vituperative ulti- 
matums. These were double-edged, and involved me in 
trouble quite as often as they gained the ends I sought. 
The assistant physician in charge of my case, realizing 
that he could not grant all of my requests, unwisely 
decided to deny most of them. Had he been tactful, A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
97 
He could have taken the same stand without arousing 
my animosity. As it was, he treated me with a con- 
temptuous sort of indifference which finally developed 
into spite, and led to much trouble for us both. During 
the two wild months that followed, the superintendent 
and the steward could induce me to do almost anything 
by simply requesting it. If two men out of three could 
control me easily during such a period of mental excite- 
ment, is it not reasonable to suppose that the third man, 
the assistant physician, could likewise have controlled 
me had he treated me with consideration? It was 
his undisguised superciliousness that gave birth to my 
contempt for him. In a letter written during my second 
week of elation, I expressed the opinion that he and I 
should get along well together. But that was before I 
had become troublesome enough to try the man’s 
patience. Nevertheless, it indicates that he could have 
saved himself hours of time and subsequent worry, had 
he met my friendly advances in the proper spirit, for 
it is the quality of heart quite as much as the quantity 
of mind that cures or makes happy the insane. 
The literary impulse took such a hold on me that, when 
I first sat down to compose a letter, I bluntly refused to 
stop writing and go to bed when the attendant ordered 
me to do so. For over one year this man had seen me 
mute and meek, and the sudden and startling change 
from passive obedience to uncompromising independence 
naturally puzzled him. He threatened to drag me to my 
room, but strangely enough decided not to do so. After 
half an hour’s futile coaxing, during which time an un- 98 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
wonted supply of blood was drawn to his brain, that sur- 
prised organ proved its gratitude by giving birth to a 
timely and sensible idea. With an unaccustomed re- 
sourcefulness, by cutting off the supply of light at the 
electric switch, he put the entire ward in darkness. Se- 
cretly I admired the stratagem, but my words on that 
occasion probably conveyed no idea of the approbation 
that lurked within me. 
I then went to bed, but not to sleep. The ecstasy of 
elation made each conscious hour one of rapturous happi- 
ness, and my memory knows no day of brighter sunlight 
than those nights. The floodgates of thought were 
wide open. So jealous of each other were the thoughts 
that they seemed to stumble over one another in their 
mad rush to present themselves to my re-enthroned ego. 
I naturally craved companionship, but there were not 
many patients whom I cared to talk with. I did, how- 
ever, greatly desire to engage the assistant physician in 
conversation, as he was a man of some education and 
familiar with the history of my case. But this man, 
who had tried to induce me to speak when delusions 
had tied my tongue, now, when I was at last willing to 
talk, would scarcely condescend to listen; and what 
seemed to me his studied and ill-disguised avoidance 
only served to whet my desire to detain him whenever 
possible. 
It was about the second week that my reformative 
turn of mind became acute. The ward in which I was 
confined was well furnished and as homelike as such a 
place could be, though in justice to my own home I A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
99 
must observe that the resemblance was not great. About 
the so-called violent ward I had far less favorable 
ideas. Though I had not been subjected to physical 
abuse during the first fourteen months of my stay 
here, I had seen unnecessary and often brutal force 
used by the attendants in managing several so-called 
violent patients, who, upon their arrival, had been 
placed in the ward where I was. I had also heard con- 
vincing rumors of rough treatment of irresponsible 
patients in the violent ward. 
At once I determined to conduct a thorough investi- 
gation of the institution. In order that I might have 
proof that my intended action was deliberate, my first 
move was to tell one or two fellow-patients that I 
should soon transgress some rule in such a way as to 
necessitate my removal to the violent ward. At first 
I thought of breaking a few panes of glass; but my 
purpose was accomplished in another way—and, in- 
deed, sooner than I had anticipated. My conservator, 
in my presence, had told the assistant physician that the 
doctors could permit me to telephone him whenever 
they should see fit. It was rather with the wish to 
test the unfriendly physician than to satisfy any desire 
to speak with my conservator that one morning I asked 
permission to call up the latter. That very morning I 
had received a letter from him. This the doctor knew, 
for I showed him the letter—but not its contents. It 
was on the letter that I based my demand, though in it 
my brother did not even intimate that he wished to 
speak to me. The doctor, however, had no way of know- 100 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
ing that my statement was not true. To deny my re- 
quest was simply one of his ill-advised whims, and his 
refusal was given with customary curtness and contempt. 
I met his refusal in kind, and presented him with a 
trenchant critique of his character. 
He said, “Unless you stop talking in that way I shall 
have you transferred to the Fourth Ward.” (This 
was the violent ward.) 
“Put me where you please,” was my reply. “I’ll put 
you in the gutter before I get through with you. ” 
With that the doctor made good his threat, and the at- 
tendant escorted me to the violent ward—a willing, in 
fact, eager prisoner. 
The ward in which I was now placed (September 13th, 
1902) was furnished in the plainest manner. The floors 
were of hard wood and the walls were bare. Except when 
at meals or out of doors taking their accustomed exercise, 
the patients usually lounged about in one large room, 
in which heavy benches were used, it being thought that 
in the hands of violent patients, chairs might become a 
menace to others. In the dining room, however, there 
were chairs of a substantial type, for patients seldom 
run amuck at meal time. Nevertheless, one of these 
dining-room chairs soon acquired a history. 
As my banishment had come on short notice, I had 
failed to provide myself with many things I now 
desired. My first request was that I be supplied 
with stationery. The attendants, acting no doubt on 
the doctor’s orders, refused to grant my request; nor 
would they give me a lead pencil—which, luckily, I A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
101 
did not need, for I happened to have one. Despite 
their refusal I managed to get some scraps of paper, 
on which I was soon busily engaged in writing notes 
to those in authority. Some of these (as I learned 
later) were delivered, but no attention was paid to them. 
No doctor came near me until evening, when the one 
who had banished me made his regular round of in- 
spection. When he appeared, the interrupted conversa- 
tion of the morning was resumed—that is, by me—and 
in a similar vein. I again asked leave to telephone my 
conservator. The doctor again refused, and, of course, 
again I told him what I thought of him. 
My imprisonment pleased me. I was where I most 
wished to be, and I busied myself investigating condi- 
tions and making mental notes. As the assistant 
physician could grant favors to the attendants, and had 
authority to discharge them, they did his bidding and 
continued to refuse most of my requests. In spite of 
their unfriendly attitude, however, I did manage to 
persuade the supervisor, a kindly man, well along in 
years, to deliver a note to the steward. In it I asked 
him to come at once, as I wished to talk with him. 
The steward, whom I looked upon as a friend, returned 
no answer and made no visit. I supposed he, too, had 
purposely ignored me. As I learned afterwards, both 
he and the superintendent were absent, else perhaps I 
should have been treated in a less high-handed manner 
by the assistant physician, who was not absent. 
The next morning, after a renewal of my request and a 
repeated refusal, I asked the doctor to send me the “Book 102 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
of Psalms” which I had left in my former room. With 
this request he complied, believing, perhaps, that some 
religion would at least do me no harm. I probably 
read my favorite psalm, the 45th; but most of my 
time I spent writing, on the flyleaves, psalms of my 
own. And if the value of a psalm is to be measured by 
the intensity of feeling portrayed, my compositions of 
that day rightly belonged beside the writings of David. 
My psalms were indited to those in authority at the 
hospital, and later in the day the supervisor—who proved 
himself a friend on many occasions—took the book to 
headquarters. 
The assistant physician, who had mistaken my 
malevolent tongue for a violent mind, had placed me in 
an exile which precluded my attending the service which 
was held in the chapel that Sunday afternoon. Time 
which might better have been spent in church I therefore 
spent in perfecting a somewhat ingenious scheme for 
getting in touch with the steward. That evening, when 
the doctor again appeared, I approached him in a friendly 
way and politely repeated my request. He again 
refused to grant it. With an air of resignation I said, 
“Well, as it seems useless to argue the point with you 
and as the notes sent to others have thus far been ignored, 
I should like, with your kind permission, to kick a hole 
in your damned old building and to-morrow present 
myself to the steward in his office.” 
“Kick away!” he said with a sneer. He then entered 
an adjoining ward, where he remained for about ten 
minutes. A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
103 
If you will draw in your mind, or on paper, a letter 
“L,” and let the vertical part represent a room forty 
feet in length, and the horizontal part one of twenty, 
and if you will then picture me as standing in a door- 
way at the intersection of these two lines—the door 
to the dining room—and the doctor behind another door 
at the top of the perpendicular, forty feet away, you will 
have represented graphically the opposing armies just 
prior to the first real assault in what proved to be a 
siege of seven weeks. 
The moment the doctor re-entered the ward, as he 
had to do to return to the office, I disappeared through 
my door—into the dining room. I then walked the 
length of that room and picked up one of the heavy 
wooden chairs, selected for my purpose while the doc- 
tor and his tame charges were at church. Using the 
chair as a battering-ram, without malice—joy being in 
my heart—I deliberately thrust two of its legs through 
an upper and a lower pane of a four-paned plate glass 
window. The only miscalculation I made was in fail- 
ing to place myself directly in front of that window, and 
at a proper distance, so that I might have broken every 
one of the four panes. This was a source of regret to me, 
for I was always loath to leave a well-thought-out piece 
of work unfinished. 
The crash of shattered and falling glass startled every 
one but me. Especially did it frighten one patient who 
happened to be in the dining room at the time. He 
fled. The doctor and the attendant who were in the 
adjoining room could not see me, or know what the 104 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
trouble was; but they lost no time in finding out. Like 
the proverbial cold-blooded murderer who stands over 
his victim, weapon in hand, calmly awaiting arrest, I 
stood my ground, and, with a fair degree of compos- 
ure, awaited the onrush of doctor and attendant. 
They soon had me in hand. Each taking an arm, they 
marched me to my room. This took not more than 
half a minute, but the time was not so short as to 
prevent my delivering myself of one more thumb-nail 
characterization of the doctor. My inability to recall 
that delineation, verbatim, entails no loss on literature. 
But one remark made as the doctor seized hold of 
me was apt, though not impromptu. “Well, doctor,” 
I said, “knowing you to be a truthful man, I just took 
you at your word.” 
Senseless as this act appears it was the result of logical 
thinking. The steward had entire charge of the build- 
ing and ordered all necessary repairs. It was he whom 
I desired above all others to see, and I reasoned that the 
breaking of several dollars’ worth of plate glass (for which 
later, to my surprise, I had to pay) would compel his 
attention on grounds of economy, if not those of the 
friendly interest which I now believed he had abandoned. 
Early the next morning, as I had hoped, the steward 
appeared. He approached me in a friendly way (as had 
been his wont) and I met him in a like manner. “I wish 
you would leave a little bit of the building,” he said 
good-naturedly. 
“I will leave it all, and gladly, if you will pay some 
attention to my messages,” was my rejoinder. A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
105 
“Had I not been out of town/’ he replied, “I would 
have come to see you sooner.” And this honest expla- 
nation I accepted. 
I made known to the steward the assistant physician’s 
behavior in balking my desire to telephone my conserv- 
ator. He agreed to place the matter before the super- 
intendent, who had that morning returned. As proof of 
gratitude, I promised to suspend hostilities until I had 
had a talk with the superintendent. I made it quite 
plain, however, that should he fail to keep his word, I 
would further facilitate the ventilation of the violent 
ward. My faith in mankind was not yet wholly re- 
stored. XV 
A FEW hours later, without having witnessed any- 
thing of particular significance, except as it befell my- 
self, I was transferred to my old ward. The super- 
intendent, who had ordered this rehabilitation, soon 
appeared, and he and I had a satisfactory talk. He gave 
me to understand that he himself would in future look 
after my case, as he realized that his assistant lacked the 
requisite tact and judgment to cope with one of my 
temperament—and with that, my desire to telephone my 
conservator vanished. 
Now no physician would like to have his wings clipped 
by a patient, even indirectly, and without doubt the 
man’s pride was piqued as his incompetence was thus 
made plain. Thereafter, when he passed through the 
ward, he and I had frequent tilts. Not only did I lose no 
opportunity to belittle him in the presence of attendants 
and patients, but I even created such opportunities; so 
that before long he tried to avoid me whenever possible. 
But it seldom was possible. One of my chief amuse- 
ments consisted in what were really one-sided inter- 
views with him. Occasionally he was so unwise as to 
stand his ground for several minutes, and his argu- 
ments on such occasions served only to keep my temper 
at a vituperative heat. If there were any epithets which 
I failed to apply to him during the succeeding weeks 
106 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
107 
of my association with him, they must have been coined 
since. The uncanny admixture of_ sanity displayed by 
me, despite my insane condition, was something this 
doctor could not comprehend. Remarks of mine, which 
he should have discounted or ignored, rankled as the 
insults of a sane and free man would have done. And 
his blunt and indiscriminate refusal of most of my 
requests prolonged my period of mental excitement. 
After my return to my old ward I remained there for a 
period of three weeks. At that time I was a very self- 
centred individual. My large and varied assortment of 
delusions of grandeur made everything seem possible. 
There were few problems I hesitated to attack. With 
sufficient provocation I even attacked attendants—prob- 
lems in themselves; but such fights as I subsequently 
engaged in were fights either for my own rights or the 
rights of others. Though for a while I got along fairly 
well with the attendants and as well as could be expected 
with the assistant physician, it soon became evident that 
these men felt that to know me more was to love me less. 
Owing to their lack of capacity for the work required of 
them, I was able to cause them endless annoyance. 
Many times a day I would tell the attendants what 
to do and what not to do, and tell them what I should do 
if my requests, suggestions, or orders were not immedi- 
ately complied with. For over one year they had 
seen me in a passive, almost speechless condition, and 
they were, therefore, unable to understand my un- 
wonted aggressions. The threat that I would chastise 
them for any disobedience of my orders they looked upon 108 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
as a huge joke. So it was, until one day I incontinently 
cracked that joke against the head of one of them. 
It began in this wise: Early in October there was 
placed in the ward a man whose abnormality for the 
most part consisted of an inordinate thirst for liquor. 
He was over fifty years of age, well educated, traveled, 
refined and of an artistic temperament. Congenial com- 
panions were scarce where I was, and he and I were soon 
drawn together in friendship. This man had been trapped 
into the institution by the subterfuge of relatives. As is 
common in such cases, many “white” lies had been re- 
sorted to in order to save trouble for all concerned— 
that is, all except the patient. To be taken without 
notice from one’s home and by a deceitful, though 
under the circumstances perhaps justifiable strategy, 
placed in a ward with fifteen other men, all exhibiting in- 
sanity in varying degrees, is as heartbreaking an ordeal 
as one can well imagine. Yet such was this man’s exper- 
ience. A free man one day, he found himself deprived of 
his liberty the next, and branded with what he consid- 
ered an unbearable disgrace. 
Mr. Blank (as I shall call him) was completely un- 
nerved. As he was a stranger in what I well knew 
was a strange world, I took him under my protecting 
and commodious wing. I did all I could to cheer him 
up, and tried to secure for him that consideration which 
to me seemed indispensable to his well-being. Pa- 
tients in his condition had never been forced, when 
taking their exercise, to walk about the grounds with the 
other patients. At no time during the preceding four- A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
109 
teen months had I seen a newly committed patient 
forced to exercise against his will. One who objected 
was invariably left in the ward, or his refusal was 
reported to the doctor before further action was taken. 
No sane person need stretch his imagination in order to 
realize how humiliating it would be for this man to walk 
with a crowd which greatly resembled a “ chain gang.” 
Two by two, under guard, these hostages of misfortune 
get the only long walks their restricted liberty allows 
them. After the one or two occasions when this man did 
walk with the gang, I was impressed with the not wholly 
unreasonable thought that the physical exercise in no 
way compensated for the mental distress which the sense 
of humiliation and disgrace caused him to suffer. It 
was delightfully easy for me to interfere in his behalf; 
and when he came to my room, wrought up over the 
prospect of another such humiliation and weeping bit- 
terly, I assured him that he should take his exercise that 
day when I did. My first move to accomplish the de- 
sired result was to approach, in a friendly way, the at- 
tendant in charge, and ask him to permit my new friend 
to walk about the grounds with me when next I went. 
He said he would do nothing of the kind—that he in- 
tended to take this man when he took the others. I said, 
“For over a year I have been in this ward and so have 
you, and I have never yet seen a man in Mr. Blank’s 
condition forced to go out of doors.” 
“It makes no difference whether you have or not,” 
said the attendant, “he’s going.” 
“Will you ask the doctor whether Mr. Blank can or 110 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
cannot walk about the grounds with my special attend- 
ant when I go? ” 
“No, I won’t. Furthermore, it’s none of your busi- 
ness.” 
“If you resort to physical force and attempt to take 
Mr. Blank with the other patients, you’ll wish you 
hadn’t,” I said, as I walked away. 
At this threat the fellow scornfully laughed. To him 
it meant nothing. He believed I could fight only with 
my tongue, and I confess that I myself was in doubt as to 
my power of fighting otherwise. 
Returning to my room, where Mr. Blank was in wait- 
ing, I supported his drooping courage and again assured 
him that he should be spared the dreaded ordeal. I 
ordered him to go to a certain room at the farther end 
of the hall and there await developments—so that, 
should there be a fight, the line of battle might be a long 
one. He obeyed. In a minute or two the attendant was 
headed for that room. I followed closely at his heels, 
still threatening to attack him if he dared so much as 
lay a finger on my friend. Though I was not then aware 
of it, I was followed by another patient, a man who, 
though a mental case, had his lucid intervals and always 
a loyal heart. He seemed to realize that trouble was 
brewing and that very likely I should need help. 
Once in the room, the war of words was renewed, my 
sensitive and unnerved friend standing by and anxiously 
looking on. 
“I warn you once more,” I said, “ if you touch Mr. 
Blank, I’ll punch you so hard you’ll wish you hadn’t.” A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
111 
The attendant’s answer was an immediate attempt to 
eject Mr. Blank from the room by force. Nothing 
could be more automatic than my action at that time; 
indeed, to this day I do not remember performing the 
act itself. What I remember is the determination to 
perform it and the subsequent evidence of its having 
been performed. At all events I had already made up 
my mind to do a certain thing if the attendant did a cer- 
tain thing. He did the one and I did the other. Almost 
before he had touched Mr. Blank’s person, my right fist 
struck him with great force in, on, or about the left eye. 
It was then that I became the object of the attendant’s 
attention—but not his undivided attention—for as he 
was choking me, my unsuspected ally stepped up and 
paid the attendant a sincere compliment by likewise 
choking him. In the scuffle I was forced to the floor. 
The attendant had a grip upon my throat. My ward- 
mate had a double grip upon the attendant’s throat. 
Thus was formed a chain with a weak, if not a missing, 
link in the middle. Picture, if you will, an insane man 
being choked by a supposedly sane one, and he in turn 
being choked by a temporarily sane insane friend of the 
assaulted one, and you will have Nemesis as nearly in a 
nutshell as any mere rhetorician has yet been able to 
put her. 
That I was well choked is proved by the fact that my 
throat bore the crescent-shaped mark of my assailant’s 
thumb nail. And I am inclined to believe that my res- 
cuer, who was a very powerful man, made a decided 
impression on my assailant’s throat. Had not the 112 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
superintendent opportunely appeared at that moment, 
the man might soon have lapsed into unconscious- 
ness, for I am sure my ally would never have re- 
leased him until he had released me. The moment the 
attendant with his one good eye caught sight of the super- 
intendent the scrimmage ended. This was but natural, 
for it is against the code of honor generally obtaining 
among attendants, that one should so far forget himself 
as to abuse patients in the presence of sane and com- 
petent witnesses. 
The choking which I had just received served only to 
limber my vocal cords. I told the doctor all about the 
preliminary verbal skirmish and the needlessness of the 
fight. The superintendent had graduated at Yale over 
fifty years prior to my own graduation, and because of 
this common interest and his consummate tact we got 
along well together. But his friendly interest did not 
keep him from speaking his mind upon occasion, as his 
words at this time proved. “You don’t know,” he said, 
“how it grieves me to see you—a Yale man—act so like a 
rowdy.” 
“If fighting for the rights of a much older man, unable 
to protect his own interests, is the act of a rowdy, I’m 
quite willing to be thought one,” was my reply. 
Need I add that the attendant did not take Mr. Blank 
for a walk that morning? Nor, so far as I know, was the 
latter ever forced again to take his exercise against his 
will. XVI 
The superintendent now realized that I was altogether 
too energetic a humanitarian to remain in a ward with so 
many other patients. My actions had a demoralizing 
effect upon them; so I was forthwith transferred to a pri- 
vate room, one of two situated in a small one-story 
annex. These new quarters were rather attractive, not 
unlike a bachelor apartment. 
As there was no one here with whom I could interfere I 
got along without making any disturbance—that is, so 
long as I had a certain special attendant, a man suited to 
my temperament. He who was now placed over me 
understood human nature. He never resorted to force 
if argument failed to move me; and trifling transgressions, 
which would have led to a fight had he behaved like a 
typical attendant, he either ignored or privately re- 
ported to the doctor. For the whole period of my intense 
excitement there were certain persons who could con- 
trol me, and certain others whose presence threw me into 
a state bordering on rage, and frequently into passions 
which led to distressing results. 
Unfortunately for me, my good attendant soon left 
the institution to accept a more attractive business 
offer. He left without even a good-bye to me. Noth- 
ing proves more conclusively how important to me 
would have been his retention than this abrupt leave- 
113 114 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
taking which the doctor had evidently ordered, thinking 
perhaps that the prospect of such a change would 
excite me. However, I caused no trouble when the 
substitution was made, though I did dislike having 
placed over me a man with whom I had previously 
had misunderstandings. He was about my own age and 
it was by no means so easy to take orders from him 
as it had been to obey his predecessor, who was con- 
siderably older than myself. Then, too, this younger 
attendant disliked me because of the many disagreeable 
things I had said to him while we were together in a 
general ward. He weighed about one hundred and ninety 
pounds to my one hundred and thirty, and had evidently 
been selected to attend me because of his great strength. 
A choice based on mental rather than physical consider- 
ations would have been wiser. The superintendent, be- 
cause of his advanced age and ill health, had been obliged 
again to place my case in the hands of the assistant physi- 
cian, and the latter gave this new attendant certain orders. 
What I was to be permitted to do, and what not, was 
carefully specified. These orders, many of them unrea- 
sonable, were carried out to the letter. For this I cannot 
justly blame the attendant. The doctor had deprived 
him of the right to exercise what judgment he had. 
At this period I required but little sleep. I usually 
spent part of the night drawing; for it was in September, 
1902, while I was at the height of my wave of self-cen- 
tred confidence, that I decided that I was destined 
to become a writer of books—or at least of one book; 
and now I thought I might as well be an artist, too, A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
115 
and illustrate my own works. In school I had never 
cared for drawing; nor at college either. But now 
my awakened artistic impulse was irresistible. My 
first self-imposed lesson was a free-hand copy of an 
illustration on a cover of Life. Considering the cir- 
cumstances, that first drawing was creditable, though 
I cannot now prove the assertion; for inconsiderate 
attendants destroyed it, with many more of my draw- 
ings and manuscripts. From the very moment I 
completed that first drawing, honors were divided 
between my literary and artistic impulses; and a 
letter which, in due time, I felt impelled to write to the 
Governor of the State, incorporated art with literature. 
I wrote and read several hours a day and I spent as many 
more in drawing. But the assistant physician, instead of 
making it easy for me to rid myself of an excess of 
energy along literary and artistic lines, balked me at 
every turn, and seemed to delight in displaying as little 
interest as possible in my newly awakened ambitions. 
When everything should have been done to calm my 
abnormally active mind, a studied indifference and fail- 
ure to protect my interests kept me in a state of exas- 
peration. 
But circumstances now arose which brought about the 
untimely stifling—I might better say strangulation—of 
my artistic impulses. The doctors were led—unwisely, I 
believe—to decide that absolute seclusion was the 
only thing that would calm my over-active brain. In con- 
sequence, all writing and drawing materials and all books 
were taken from me. And from October 18th until the 116 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
first of the following January, except for one fortnight, 
I was confined in one or another small, barred room, 
hardly better than a cell in a prison and in some instances 
far worse. 
A corn cob was the determining factor at this crisis. 
Seeing in myself an embryonic Raphael, I had a habit of 
preserving all kinds of odds and ends as souvenirs of my 
development. These, I believed, sanctified by my Midas- 
like touch, would one day be of great value. If the pub- 
lic can tolerate, as it does, thousands of souvenir hunters, 
surely one with a sick mind should be indulged in the 
whim for collecting such souvenirs as come within his 
reach. Among the odds and ends that I had gathered 
were several corn cobs. These I intended to gild and some 
day make useful by attaching to them small thermom- 
eters. But on the morning of October 18th, the young 
man in charge of me, finding the corn cobs, forthwith 
informed me that he would throw them away. I as 
promptly informed him that any such action on his part 
would lead to a fight. And so it did. 
When this fight began, there were two attendants at 
hand. I fought them both to a standstill, and told them 
I should continue to fight until the assistant physician 
came to the ward. Thereupon, my special attendant, 
realizing that I meant what I said, held me while the 
other went for assistance. He soon returned, not with 
the assistant physician, but with a third attendant, and 
the fight was renewed. The one who had acted as mes- 
senger, being of finer fibre than the other two, stood at 
a safe distance. It was, of course, against the rules of the A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
117 
institution for an attendant to strike a patient, and, as I 
was sane enough to report with a fair chance of belief 
any forbidden blows, each captor had to content himself 
with holding me by an arm and attempting to choke me 
into submission. However, I was able to prevent them 
from getting a good grip on my throat, and for almost 
ten minutes I continued to fight, telling them all the time 
that I would not stop until a doctor should come. An 
assistant physician, but not the one in charge of my 
case, finally appeared. He gave orders that I be placed 
in the violent ward, which adjoined the private apart- 
ment I was then occupying, and no time was lost in 
locking me in a small room in that ward. 
Friends have said to me: “Well, what is to be done 
when a patient runs amuck?” The best answer I can 
make is: “Do nothing to make him run amuck.” Psy- 
chiatrists have since told me that had I had an attendant 
with the wisdom and ability to humor me and permit me 
to keep my priceless corn cobs, the fight in question, 
and the worse events that followed, would probably 
not have occurred—not that day, nor ever, had I at all 
times been properly treated by those in charge of me. 
So again I found myself in the violent ward—but this 
time not because of any desire to investigate it. Art and 
literature being now more engrossing than my plans for 
reform, I became, in truth, an unwilling occupant of a 
room and a ward devoid of even a suggestion of the 
aesthetic. The room itself was clean, and under other cir- 
cumstances might have been cheerful. It was twelve feet 
long, seven feet wide, and twelve high. A cluster of 118 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
incandescent lights, enclosed in a semi-spherical glass 
globe, was attached to the ceiling. The walls were bare 
and plainly wainscotted, and one large window, barred 
outside, gave light. At one side of the door was an 
opening a foot square with a door of its own which could 
be unlocked only from without, and through which food 
could be passed to a supposedly dangerous patient. Aside 
from a single bed, the legs of which were screwed to the 
floor, the room had no furniture. 
The attendant, before locking me in, searched me and 
took from me several lead pencils; but the stub of one 
escaped his vigilance. Naturally, to be taken from a 
handsomely furnished apartment and thrust into such a 
bare and unattractive room as this caused my already 
heated blood to approach the boiling point. Conse- 
quently, my first act was to send a note to the physician 
who regularly had charge of my case, requesting him to 
visit me as soon as he should arrive, and I have every 
reason to believe that the note was delivered. Whether 
or not this was so, a report of the morning’s fight and my 
transfer must have reached him by some one of several 
witnesses. While waiting for an answer, I busied my- 
self writing, and as I had no stationery I wrote on the 
walls. Beginning as high as I could reach, I wrote in 
columns, each about three feet wide. Soon the pencil 
became dull. But dull pencils are easily sharpened 
on the whetstone of wit. Stifling acquired traits, I 
permitted myself to revert momentarily to a primitive 
expedient. I gnawed the wood quite from the pencil, 
leaving only the graphite core. With a bit of graphite A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
119 
a hand guided by the unerring insolence of elation 
may artistically damn all men and things. That I 
am inclined to believe I did; and I question whether 
Raphael or Michael Angelo—upon whom I then looked 
as mere predecessors—ever put more feeling per square 
foot into their mural masterpieces. Every little while, 
as if to punctuate my composition, and in an en- 
deavor to get attention, I viciously kicked the door. 
This first fight of the day occurred about 8 A.M. 
For the three hours following I was left to thrash 
about the room and work myself into a frenzy. I made 
up my mind to compel attention. A month earlier, 
shattered glass had enabled me to accomplish a certain 
sane purpose. Again this day it served me. The opal- 
escent half-globe on the ceiling seemed to be the most 
vulnerable point for attack. How to reach and smash it 
was the next question—and soon answered. Taking off 
my shoes, I threw one with great force at my glass target 
and succeeded in striking it a destructive blow. 
The attendants charged upon my room. Their en- 
trance was momentarily delayed by the door which stuck 
fast. I was standing near it, and when it gave way, its 
edge struck me on the forehead with force enough to have 
fractured my skull had it struck a weaker part. Once in 
the room, the two attendants threw me on the bed and 
one choked me so severely that I could feel my eyes start- 
ing from their sockets. The attendants then put the 
room in order; removed the glass—that is, all except one 
small and apparently innocent, but as the event proved 
well-nigh fatal, piece—took my shoes and again locked 120 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
me in my room—not forgetting, however, to curse me 
well for making them work for their living. 
When the assistant physician finally appeared, I met 
him with a blast of invective which, in view of the events 
which quickly followed, must have blown out whatever 
spark of kindly feeling toward me he may ever have 
had. I demanded that he permit me to send word 
to my conservator asking him to come at once and 
look after my interests, for I was being unfairly treated. 
I also demanded that he request the superintendent to 
visit me at once, as I intended to have nothing more to do 
with the assistant physicians or attendants who were neg- 
lecting and abusing me. He granted neither demand. 
The bit of glass which the attendants had overlooked 
was about the size of my thumb nail. If I remember 
rightly, it was not a part of the broken globe. It was a 
piece that had probably been hidden by a former occu- 
pant, in a corner of the square opening at the side of the 
door. At all events, if the pen is the tongue of a ready 
writer, so may a piece of glass be, under given conditions. 
As the thought I had in mind seemed an immortal one I 
decided to etch, rather than write with fugitive graphite. 
On the topmost panel of the door, which a few minutes 
before had dealt me so vicious a blow, I scratched a seven- 
word sentiment—sincere, if not classic: “God bless our 
Home, which is Hell.” 
The violent exercise of the morning had given me a 
good appetite and I ate my dinner with relish, though 
with some difficulty, for the choking had lamed my throat. 
On serving this dinner, the attendants again left me to my A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
121 
own devices. The early part of the afternoon I spent in 
vain endeavors to summon them and induce them to take 
notes to the superintendent and his assistant. They con- 
tinued to ignore me. By sundown the furious excite- 
ment of the morning had given place to what might be 
called a deliberative excitement, which, if anything, was 
more effective. It was but a few days earlier that I had 
discussed my case with the assistant physician and told 
him all about the suicidal impulse which had been so 
strong during my entire period of depression. I now rea- 
soned that a seeming attempt at suicide, a “fake” suicide, 
would frighten the attendants into calling this doctor 
whose presence I now desired—and desired the more be- 
cause of his studied indifference. No man that ever 
lived, loved life more than I did on that day, and the 
mock tragedy which I successfully staged about dusk 
was, I believe, as good a farce as was ever perpetrated. 
If I had any one ambition it was to live long enough to 
regain my freedom and put behind prison bars this 
doctor and his burly henchmen. To compel attention 
that was my object. 
At that season the sun set by half-past five and supper 
was usually served about that time. So dark was my 
room then that objects in it could scarcely be discerned. 
About a quarter of an hour before the attendant was 
due to appear with my evening meal I made my prepa- 
rations. That the stage setting might be in keeping with 
the plot, I tore up such papers as I had with me, and also 
destroyed other articles in the room—as one might in a 
frenzy; and to complete the illusion of desperation, de- 122 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
liberately broke my watch. I then took off my suspend- 
ers, and tying one end to the head of the bedstead, made 
a noose of the other. This I adjusted comfortably about 
my throat. At the crucial moment I placed my pillow 
on the floor beside the head of the bed and sat on it— 
for this was to be an easy death. I then bore just enough 
weight on the improvised noose to give all a plausible 
look. And a last lifelike (or rather deathlike) touch.I 
added by gurgling as in infancy’s happy days. 
No schoolboy ever enjoyed a prank more than I en- 
joyed this one. Soon I heard the step of the attendant, 
bringing my supper. When he opened the door, he had 
no idea that anything unusual was happening within. 
Coming as he did from a well-lighted room into one that 
was dark, it took him several seconds to grasp the situation 
—and then he failed really to take it in, for he at once 
supposed me to be in a semi-unconscious condition from 
strangulation. In a state of great excitement this brute 
of the morning called to his brute partner and I was soon 
released from what was nothing more than an amusing 
position, though they believed it one of torture or death. 
The vile curses with which they had addressed me in the 
morning were now silenced. They spoke kindly and ex- 
pressed regret that I should have seen fit to resort to such 
an act. Their sympathy was as genuine as such men can 
feel, but a poor kind at best, for it was undoubtedly ex- 
cited by the thought of what might be the consequences 
to them of their own neglect. While this unwonted stress 
of emotion threatened their peace of mind, I continued 
to play my part, pretending to be all but unconscious. A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
123 
Shortly after my rescue from a very living death, 
the attendants picked me up and carried my limp body 
and laughing soul to an adjoining room, where I was 
tenderly placed upon a bed. I seemed gradually to 
revive. 
“ What did you do it for? ” asked one. 
“What’s the use of living in a place like this, to be 
abused as I’ve been to-day? ” I asked. “You and the 
doctor ignore me and all my requests. Even a cup of 
water between meals is denied me, and other requests 
which you have no right to refuse. Had I killed myself, 
both of you would have been discharged. And if my 
relatives and friends had ever found out how you had 
abused and neglected me, it is likely you would have been 
arrested and prosecuted.” 
Word had already been sent to the physician. He 
hurried to the ward, his almost breathless condition 
showing how my farce had been mistaken for a real trag- 
edy. The moment he entered I abandoned the part I 
had been playing. 
“Now that I have you three brutes where I want you, 
I’ll tell you a few things you don’t know,” I said. “You 
probably think I’ve just tried to kill myself. It was 
simply a ruse to make you give me some attention. When 
I make threats and tell you that my one object in life is 
to live long enough to regain my freedom and lay bare 
the abuses which abound in places like this, you 
simply laugh at me, don’t you? But the fact is, that’s 
my ambition, and if you knew anything at all, you’d know 
that abuse won’t drive me to suicide. You can continue 124 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
to abuse me and deprive me of my rights, and keep me in 
exile from relatives and friends, but the time will come 
when I’ll make you sweat for all this. I’ll put you in 
prison where you belong. Or if I fail to do that, I can at 
least bring about your discharge from this institution. 
What’s more, I will.” 
The doctor and attendants took my threats with 
characteristic nonchalance. Such threats, often enough 
heard in such places, make little or no impression, for 
they are seldom made good. When I made these threats, 
I really wished to put these men in prison. To-day I 
have no such desire, for were they not victims of the same 
vicious system of treatment to which I was subjected? 
In every institution where the discredited principles of 
“ Restraint” are used or tolerated, the very atmosphere 
is brutalizing. Place a bludgeon in the hand of any 
man, with instructions to use it when necessary, and the 
gentler and more humane methods of persuasion will nat- 
urally be forgotten or deliberately abandoned. 
Throughout my period of elation, especially the first 
months of it when I was doing the work of several normal 
men, I required an increased amount of fuel to generate 
the abnormal energy my activity demanded. I had a 
voracious appetite, and I insisted that the attendant 
give me the supper he was about to serve when he 
discovered me in the simulated throes of death. At 
first he refused, but finally relented and brought me a 
cup of tea and some buttered bread. Because of the 
severe choking administered earlier in the day it was 
with difficulty that I swallowed any food. I had to eat A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
125 
slowly. The attendant, however, ordered me to hurry, 
and threatened otherwise to take what little supper I 
had. I told him that I thought he would not—that I 
was entitled to my supper and intended to eat it with as 
much comfort as possible. This nettled him, and by a 
sudden and unexpected move he managed to take from 
me all but a crust of bread. Even that he tried to snatch. 
I resisted and the third fight of the day was soon on—and 
that within five minutes of the time the doctor had left 
the ward. I was seated on the bed. The attendant, 
true to his vicious instincts, grasped my throat and 
choked me with the full power of a hand accustomed 
to that unmanly work. His partner, in the meantime, 
had rendered me helpless by holding me flat on my 
back while the attacking party choked me into breathless 
submission. The first fight of the day was caused by a 
corn cob; this of the evening by a crust of bread. 
Were I to close the record of events of that October 
day with an account of the assault just described, few, if 
any, would imagine that I had failed to mention all the 
abuse to which I was that day subjected. The fact is 
that not the half has been told. As the handling of me 
within the twenty-four hours typifies the worst, but, 
nevertheless, the not unusual treatment of many pa- 
tients in a like condition, I feel constrained to describe 
minutely the torture which was my portion that night. 
There are several methods of restraint in use to 
this day in various institutions, chief among them 
“mechanical restraint” and so-called “chemical re- 
straint.” The former consists in the use of instruments 126 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
of restraint, namely, strait-jackets or camisoles, muffs, 
straps, mittens, restraint or strong sheets, etc.—all 
of them, except on the rarest of occasions, instru- 
ments of neglect and torture. Chemical restraint (some- 
times called medical restraint) consists in the use of 
temporarily paralyzing drugs—hyoscine being the popu- 
lar “dose.” By the use of such drugs a troublesome 
patient may be rendered unconscious and kept so for 
hours at a time. Indeed, very troublesome patients 
(especially when attendants are scarce) are not infre- 
quently kept in a stupefied condition for days, or even 
for weeks—but only in institutions where the welfare of 
the patients is lightly regarded. 
After the supper fight I was left alone in my room for 
about an hour. Then the assistant physician entered 
with three attendants, including the two who had fig- 
ured in my farce. One carried a canvas contrivance 
known as a camisole. A camisole is a type of strait- 
jacket; and a very convenient type it is for those who 
resort to such methods of restraint, for it enables them 
to deny the use of strait-jackets at all. A strait-jacket, 
indeed, is not a camisole, just as electrocution is not 
hanging. 
A camisole, or, as I prefer to stigmatize it, a strait- 
jacket, is really a tight-fitting coat of heavy canvas, reach- 
ing from neck to waist, constructed, however, on no 
ordinary pattern. There is not a button on it. The 
sleeves are closed at the ends, and the jacket, having no 
opening in front, is adjusted and tightly laced behind. 
To the end of each blind sleeve is attached a strong cord. A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
127 
The cord on the right sleeve is carried to the left of the 
body, and the cord on the left sleeve is carried to the 
right of the body. Both are then drawn tightly behind, 
thus bringing the arms of the victim into a folded posi- 
tion across his chest. These cords are then securely tied. 
When I planned my ruse of the afternoon, I knew per- 
fectly that I should soon find myself in a strait-jacket. 
The thought rather took my fancy, for I was resolved to 
know the inner workings of the violent ward. 
The piece of glass with which I had that morning 
written the motto already quoted, I had appropriated for 
a purpose. Knowing that I should soon be put in the 
uncomfortable, but not necessarily intolerable embrace 
of a strait-jacket, my thought was that I might during 
the night, in some way or other, use this piece of glass to 
advantage—perhaps cut my way to a limited freedom. 
To make sure that I should retain possession of it, I 
placed it in my mouth and held it snugly against my 
cheek. Its presence there did not interfere with my 
speech; nor did it invite visual detection. But had I 
known as much about strait-jackets and their adjust- 
ment as I learned later, I should have resorted to no 
such futile expedient. 
After many nights of torture, this jacket, at my urgent 
and repeated request, was finally adjusted in such man- 
ner that, had it been so adjusted at first, I need not have 
suffered any torture at all. This I knew at the time, for 
I had not failed to discuss the matter with a patient who 
on several occasions had been restrained in this same 
jacket. 128 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
On this occasion the element of personal spite entered 
into the assistant physician’s treatment of me. The man’s 
personality was apparently dual. His “Jekyll” per- 
sonality was the one most in evidence, but it was the 
“Hyde” personality that seemed to control his actions 
when a crisis arose. It was “Doctor Jekyll” who ap- 
proached my room that night, accompanied by the attend- 
ants. The moment he entered my room he became “ Mr. 
Hyde.” He was, indeed, no longer a doctor, or the sem- 
blance of one. His first move was to take the strait- 
jacket in his own hands and order me to stand. Know- 
ing that those in authority really believed I had that 
day attempted to kill myself, I found no fault with 
their wish to put me in restraint; but I did object 
to having this done by Jekyll-Hyde. Though a strait- 
jacket should always be adjusted by the physician in 
charge, I knew that as a matter of fact the disagreeable 
duty was invariably assigned to the attendants. Conse- 
quently Jekyll-Hyde’s eagerness to assume an obliga- 
tion he usually shirked gave me the feeling that his 
motives were spiteful. For that reason I preferred to en- 
trust myself to the uncertain mercies of a regular attend- 
ant; and I said so, but in vain. “If you will keep your 
mouth shut, I’ll be able to do this job quicker,” said 
Jekyll-Hyde. 
“I’ll shut my mouth as soon as you get out of this 
room and not before,” I remarked. Nor did I. My 
abusive language was, of course, interlarded with the 
inevitable epithets. The more I talked, the more 
vindictive he became. He said nothing, but, unhappily A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
129 
for me, he expressed his pent-up feelings in something 
more effectual than words. After he had laced the 
jacket, and drawn my arms across my chest so snugly 
that I could not move them a fraction of an inch, I 
asked him to loosen the strait-jacket enough to enable 
me at least to take a full breath. I also requested him to 
give me a chance to adjust my fingers, which had been 
caught in an unnatural and uncomfortable position. 
“If you will keep still a minute, I will,” said Jekyll- 
Hyde. I obeyed, and willingly too, for I did not care to 
suffer more than was necessary. Instead of loosening 
the appliance as agreed, this doctor, now livid with 
rage, drew the cords in such a way that I found myself 
more securely and cruelly held than before. This breach 
of faith threw me into a frenzy. Though it was because 
his continued presence served to increase my excitement 
that Jekyll-Hyde at last withdrew, it will be observed 
that he did not do so until he had satisfied an unmanly 
desire which an apparently lurking hatred had engen- 
dered. The attendants soon withdrew and locked me 
up for the night. 
No incidents of my fife have ever impressed themselves 
more indelibly on my memory than those of my first 
night in a strait-jacket. Within one hour of the time 
I was placed in it I was suffering pain as intense as any 
I ever endured, and before the night had passed it had 
become almost unbearable. My right hand was so held 
that the tip of one of my fingers was all but cut by the 
nail of another, and soon knifelike pains began to shoot 
through my right arm as far as the shoulder. After 130 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
four or five hours the excess of pain rendered me par- 
tially insensible to it. But for fifteen consecutive 
hours I remained in that instrument of torture; and 
not until the twelfth hour, about breakfast time the next 
morning, did an attendant so much as loosen a cord. 
During the first seven or eight hours, excruciating 
pains racked not only my arms, but half of my body. 
Though I cried and moaned, in fact, screamed so 
loudly that the attendants must have heard me, little 
attention was paid to me—possibly because of orders 
from Mr. Hyde after he had again assumed the role 
of Doctor Jekyll. I even begged the attendants to 
loosen the jacket enough to ease me a little. This they 
refused to do, and they even seemed to enjoy being in a 
position to add their considerable mite to my torture. 
Before midnight I really believed that I should be 
unable to endure the torture and retain my reason. A 
peculiar pricking sensation which I now felt in my brain, 
a sensation exactly like that of June, 1900, led me to 
believe that I might again be thrown out of touch with 
the world I had so lately regained. Realizing the 
awfulness of that fate, I redoubled my efforts to effect 
my rescue. Shortly after midnight I did succeed in 
gaining the attention of the night watch. Upon en- 
tering my room he found me flat on the floor. I had 
fallen from the bed and perforce remained absolutely 
helpless where I lay. I could not so much as lift my 
head. This, however, was not the fault of the strait- 
jacket. It was because I could not control the muscles 
of my neck which that day had been so mauled. I A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
131 
could scarcely swallow the water the night watch was 
good enough to give me. He was not a bad sort; 
yet even he refused to let out the cords of the strait- 
jacket. As he seemed sympathetic, I can attribute 
his refusal to nothing but strict orders issued by the 
doctor. 
It will be recalled that I placed a piece of glass in my 
mouth before the strait-jacket was adjusted. At mid- 
night the glass was still there. After the refusal of the 
night watch, I said to him: “Then I want you to go to 
Doctor Jekyll” (I, of course, called him by his right 
name; but to do so now would be to prove myself as 
brutal as Mr. Hyde himself). “Tell him to come here 
at once and loosen this jacket. I can’t endure the tor- 
ture much longer. After fighting two years to regain 
my reason, I believe I’ll lose it again. You have 
always treated me kindly. For God’s sake, get the 
doctor!” 
“I can’t leave the main building at this time,” the 
night watch said. (Jekyll-Hyde lived in a house about 
one-eighth of a mile distant, but within the hospital 
grounds.) 
“Then will you take a message to the assistant 
physician who stays here?” (A colleague of Jekyll- 
Hyde had apartments in the main building.) 
“I’ll do that,” he replied. 
“Tell him how I’m suffering. Ask him to please come 
here at once and ease this strait-jacket. If he doesn’t, 
I’ll be as crazy by morning as I ever was. Also tell him 
I’ll kill myself unless he comes, and I can do it, too. I 132 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
have a piece of glass in this room and I know just what 
I’ll do with it.” 
The night watch was as good as his word. He after- 
wards told me that he had delivered my message. The 
doctor ignored it. He did not come near me that night, 
nor the next day, nor did Jekyll-Hyde appear until his 
usual round of inspection about eleven o’clock the next 
morning. 
“I understand that you have a piece of glass which you 
threatened to use for a suicidal purpose last night,” 
he said, when he appeared. 
“Yes, I have, and it’s not your fault or the other 
doctor’s that I am not dead. Had I gone mad, in my 
frenzy I might have swallowed that glass.” 
“Where is it?” asked the doctor, incredulously. 
As my strait-jacket rendered me armless, I presented 
the glass to Jekyll-Hyde on the tip of a tongue he had 
often heard, but never before seen. xvn 
After fifteen interminable hours the strait-jacket was 
removed. Whereas just prior to its putting on I had been 
in a vigorous enough condition to offer stout resistance 
when wantonly assaulted, now, on coming out of it, I 
was helpless. When my arms were released from their 
constricted position, the pain was intense. Every joint 
had been racked. I had no control over the fingers 
of either hand, and could not have dressed myself had 
I been promised my freedom for doing so. 
For more than the following week I suffered as already 
described, though of course with gradually decreasing 
intensity as my racked body became accustomed to the 
unnatural positions it was forced to take. This first 
experience occurred on the night of October 18th, 1902. 
I was subjected to the same unfair, unnecessary, and 
unscientific ordeal for twenty-one consecutive nights 
and parts of each of the corresponding twenty-one days. 
On more than one occasion, indeed, the attendant placed 
me in the strait-jacket during the day for refusing to 
obey some trivial command. This, too, without an 
explicit order from the doctor in charge, though per- 
haps he acted under a general order. 
During most of this time I was held also in seclusion 
in a padded cell. A padded cell is a vile hole. The 
side walls are padded as high as a man can reach, as is 
133 134 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
also the inside of the door. One of the worst features 
of such cells is the lack of ventilation, which deficiency 
of course aggravates their general unsanitary condition. 
The cell which I was forced to occupy was practically 
without heat, and as winter was coming on, I suffered 
intensely from the cold. Frequently it was so cold I 
could see my breath. Though my canvas jacket served 
to protect part of that body which it was at the same 
time racking, I was seldom comfortably warm; for, once 
uncovered, my arms being pinioned, I had no way of 
rearranging the blankets. What little sleep I managed 
to get I took lying on a hard mattress placed on the bare 
floor. The condition of the mattress I found in the 
cell was such that I objected to its further use, and the 
fact that another was supplied, at a time when few of 
my requests were being granted, proves its disgusting 
condition. 
For this period of three weeks—from October 18th 
until November 8th, 1902, when I left this institution 
and was transferred to a state hospital—I was con- 
tinuously either under lock and key (in the padded cell or 
some other room) or under the eye of an attendant. Over 
half the time I was in the snug, but cruel embrace of a 
strait-jacket—about three hundred hours in all. 
While being subjected to this terrific abuse I was 
held in exile. I was cut off from all direct and all 
honest indirect communication with my legally ap- 
pointed conservator—my own brother—and also with 
all other relatives and friends. I was even cut off 
from satisfactory communication with the superin- A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
135 
tendent. I saw him but twice, and then for so short 
a time that I was unable to give him any convinc- 
ing idea of my plight. These interviews occurred on 
two Sundays that fell within my period of exile, for 
it was on Sunday that the superintendent usually made 
his weekly round of inspection. 
What chance had I of successfully pleading my 
case, while my pulpit was a padded cell, and the 
congregation—with the exception of the superintendent 
—the very ones who had been abusing me? At such 
times my pent-up indignation poured itself forth 
in such a disconnected way that my protests were 
robbed of their right ring of truth. I was not inco- 
herent in speech. I was simply voluble and digressive— 
a natural incident of elation. Such notes as I managed 
to write on scraps of paper were presumably confiscated 
by Jekyll-Hyde. At all events, it was not until some 
months later that the superintendent was informed of 
my treatment, when, at my request (though I was 
then elsewhere), the Governor of the State discussed 
the subject with him. How I brought about that dis- 
cussion while still virtually a prisoner in another place 
will be narrated in due time. And not until several 
days after I had left this institution and had been 
placed in another, when for the first time in six 
weeks I saw my conservator, did he learn of the treat- 
ment to which I had been subjected. From his office 
in New Haven he had telephoned several times to the 
assistant physician and inquired about my condition. 
Though Jekyll-Hyde did tell him that I was highly ex- 136 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
cited and difficult to control, he did not even hint that 
I was being subjected to any unusual restraint. Doctor 
Jekyll deceived everyone, and — as things turned out 
— deceived himself; for had he realized then that I 
should one day be able to do what I have since done, 
his brutality would surely have been held in check by 
his discretion. 
How helpless, how at the mercy of his keepers, a 
patient may be is further illustrated by the conduct of 
this same man. Once, during the third week of my 
nights in a strait-jacket, I refused to take certain medicine 
which an attendant offered me. For some time I had 
been regularly taking this innocuous concoction without 
protest; but I now decided that, as the attendant refused 
most of my requests, I should no longer comply with all 
of his. He did not argue the point with me. He 
simply reported my refusal to Doctor Jekyll. A few 
minutes later Doctor Jekyll—or rather Mr. Hyde— 
accompanied by three attendants, entered the padded 
cell. I was robed for the night—in a strait-jacket. 
Mr. Hyde held in his hand a rubber tube. An attend- 
ant stood near with the medicine. For over two years, 
the common threat had been made that the “tube” 
would be resorted to if I refused medicine or food. I 
had begun to look upon it as a myth; but its presence 
in the hands of an oppressor now convinced me of its 
reality. I saw that the doctor and his bravos meant 
business; and as I had already endured torture enough, 
I determined to make every concession this time and 
escape what seemed to be in store for me. A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
137 
“What are you going to do with that?” I asked, 
eyeing the tube. 
“The attendant says you refuse to take your medicine. 
We are going to make you take it.” 
“I’ll take your old medicine,” was my reply. 
“You have had your chance.” 
“All right,” I said. “Put that medicine into me any 
way you think best. But the time will come when you’ll 
wish you hadn’t. When that time does come it won’t 
be easy to prove that you had the right to force a patient 
to take medicine he had offered to take. I know some- 
thing about the ethics of your profession. You have no 
right to do anything to a patient except what’s good for 
him. You know that. All you are trying to do is to 
punish me, and I give you fair warning I’m going to camp 
on your trail till you are not only discharged from this 
institution, but expelled from the State Medical Society 
as well. You are a disgrace to your profession, and that 
society will attend to your case fast enough when cer- 
tain members of it, who are friends of mine, hear about 
this. Furthermore, I shall report your conduct to the 
Governor of the State. He can take some action even 
if this is not a state institution. Now, damn you, do 
your worst!” 
Coming from one in my condition, this was rather 
straight talk. The doctor was visibly disconcerted. Had 
he not feared to lose caste with the attendants who stood 
by, I think he would have given me another chance. But 
he had too much pride and too little manhood to recede 
from a false position already taken. I no longer resisted, 138 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
even verbally, for I no longer wanted the doctor to desist. 
Though I did not anticipate the operation with pleasure, 
I was eager to take the man’s measure. He and the 
attendants knew that I usually kept a trick or two even 
up the sleeve of a strait-jacket, so they took added pre- 
cautions. I was flat on my back, with simply a mattress 
between me and the floor. One attendant held me. 
Another stood by with the medicine and with a funnel 
through which, as soon as Mr. Hyde should insert the 
tube in one of my nostrils, the dose was to be poured. 
The third attendant stood near as a reserve force. 
Though the insertion of the tube, when skilfully done, 
need not cause suffering, the operation as conducted 
by Mr. Hyde was painful. Try as he would, he was 
unable to insert the tube properly, though in no way 
did I attempt to balk him. His embarrassment seemed 
to rob his hand of whatever cunning it may have 
possessed. After what seemed ten minutes of bungling, 
though it was probably not half that, he gave up the 
attempt, but not until my nose had begun to bleed. 
He was plainly chagrined when he and his bravos retired. 
Intuitively I felt that they would soon return. That 
they did, armed with a new implement of war. This 
time the doctor inserted between my teeth a large wooden 
peg—to keep open a mouth which he usually wanted 
shut. He then forced down my throat a rubber tube, the 
attendant adjusted the funnel, and the medicine, or 
rather liquid—for its medicinal properties were without 
effect upon me—was poured in. 
As the scant reports sent to my conservator during A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
139 
these three weeks indicated that I was not improving 
as he had hoped, he made a special trip to the institu- 
tion to investigate in person. On his arrival he was 
met by none other than Doctor Jekyll, who told him that 
I was in a highly excited condition, which, he intimated, 
would be aggravated by a personal interview. Now for 
a man to see his brother in such a plight as mine would 
be a distressing ordeal, and, though my conservator came 
within a few hundred feet of my prison cell, it naturally 
took but a suggestion to dissuade him from coming 
nearer. Doctor Jekyll did tell him that it had been found 
necessary to place me in “restraint” and “seclusion” 
(the professional euphemisms for “strait-jacket,” 
“padded cell,” etc.), but no hint was given that I had 
been roughly handled. Doctor Jekyll’s politic dissua- 
sion was no doubt inspired by the knowledge that if ever 
I got within speaking distance of my conservator, nothing 
could prevent my giving him a circumstantial account 
of my sufferings—which account would have been 
corroborated by the blackened eye I happened to have 
at the time. Indeed, in dealing with my conservator 
the assistant physician showed a degree of tact which, 
had it been directed toward myself, would have sufficed 
to keep me tolerably comfortable. 
My conservator, though temporarily stayed, was not 
convinced. He felt that I was not improving where I 
was, and he wisely decided that the best course would 
be to have me transferred to a public institution—the 
State Hospital. A few days later the judge who had 
originally committed me ordered my transfer. Nothing A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
140 
was said to me about the proposed change until the 
moment of departure, and then I could scarcely believe 
my ears. In fact I did not believe my informant; for 
three weeks of abuse, together with my continued 
inability to get in touch with my conservator, had so 
shaken my reason that there was a partial recurrence of 
old delusions. I imagined myself on the way to the 
State Prison, a few miles distant; and not until the train 
had passed the prison station did I believe that I was 
really on my way to the State Hospital. xvin 
The State Hospital in which I now found myself, 
the third institution to which I had been committed, 
though in many respects above the average of such 
institutions, was typical. It commanded a wide view of 
a beautiful river and valley. This view I was permitted 
to enjoy—at first. Those in charge of the institution 
which I had just left did not give my new custodians any 
detailed account of my case. Their reticence was, I 
believe, occasioned by chagrin rather than charity. 
Tamers of wild men have as much pride as tamers of 
wild animals (but unfortunately less skill) and to admit 
defeat is a thing not to be thought of. Though private 
institutions are prone to shift their troublesome cases 
to state institutions, there is too often a deplorable lack 
of sympathy and co-operation between them, which, in 
this instance, however, proved fortunate for me. 
From October 18th until the early afternoon of Novem- 
ber 8th, at the private institution, I had been classed as a 
raving maniac. The name I had brought upon myself 
by experimental conduct; the condition had been aggra- 
vated and perpetuated by the stupidity of those in 
authority over me. And it was the same experimental 
conduct on my part, and stupidity on the part of my 
new custodians, which gave rise, two weeks later, to a 
similar situation. On Friday, November 7th, I was in 
141 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
142 
a strait-jacket. On November 9th and 10th I was 
apparently as tractable as any of the twenty-three 
hundred patients in the State Hospital—convention- 
ally clothed, mild mannered, and, seemingly, right 
minded. On the 9th, the day after my arrival, I 
attended a church service held at the hospital. My 
behavior was not other than that of the most pious wor- 
shipper in the land. The next evening, with most 
exemplary deportment, I attended one of the dances 
which are held every fortnight during the winter. Had 
I been a raving maniac, such activities would have led 
to a disturbance; for maniacs, of necessity, disregard 
the conventions of both pious and polite society. Yet, 
on either of these days, had I been in the private insti- 
tution which I had recently left, I should have occupied 
a cell and worn a strait-jacket. 
The assistant superintendent, who received me upon 
my arrival, judged me by my behavior. He assigned 
me to one of two connecting wards—the best in the hos- 
pital—where about seventy patients led a fairly agree- 
able life. Though no official account of my case had 
accompanied my transfer, the attendant who had acted 
as escort and guard had already given an attendant at 
the State Hospital a brief account of my recent experi- 
ences. Yet when this report finally reached the ears 
of those in authority, they wisely decided not to trans- 
fer me to another ward so long as I caused no trouble 
where I was. Finding myself at last among friends, I 
lost no time in asking for writing and drawing materials, 
which had so rudely been taken from me three weeks A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
143 
earlier. My request was promptly granted. The 
doctors and attendants treated me kindly and I again 
began to enjoy life. My desire to write and draw had 
not abated. However, I did not devote my entire time 
to those pursuits, for there were plenty of congenial 
companions about. I found pleasure in talking—more 
pleasure by far than others did in listening. In fact I 
talked incessantly, and soon made known, in a general 
way, my scheme for reforming institutions, not only in my 
native State, but, of course, throughout the world, for my 
grandiose perspective made the earth look small. The 
attendants had to bear the brunt of my loquacity, and 
they soon grew weary. One of them, wishing to induce 
silence, ventured to remark that I was so “crazy” I 
could not possibly keep my mouth shut for even one 
minute. It was a challenge which aroused my fighting 
spirit. 
“ I’ll show you that I can stop talking for a whole day,” 
I said. He laughed, knowing that of all difficult tasks 
this which I had imposed upon myself was, for one in 
my condition, least likely of accomplishment. But I 
was as good as my boast. Until the same hour the next 
day I refused to speak to anyone. I did not even reply 
to civil questions; and, though my silence was delib- 
erate and good-natured, the assistant physician seemed 
to consider it of a contumacious variety, for he threatened 
to transfer me to a less desirable ward unless I should 
again begin to talk. 
That day of self-imposed silence was about the longest 
I have ever lived, for I was under a word pressure 144 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
sufficient to have filled a book. Any psychiatrist will 
admit that my performance was remarkable, and he will 
further agree that it was, at least, an indication of a high 
degree of self-control. Though I have no desire to 
prove that at this period I was not in an abnormal con- 
dition, I do wish to show that I had a degree of self- 
control that probably would have enabled me to remain 
in the best ward at this institution had I not been intent 
—abnormally intent, of course, and yet with a high 
degree of deliberation—upon a reformative investigation. 
The crest of my wave of elation had been reached early 
in October. It was now (November) that the curve 
representing my return to normality should have been 
continuous and diminishing. Instead, it was kept 
violently fluctuating—or at least its fluctuations were 
aggravated—by the impositions of those in charge of 
me, induced sometimes, I freely admit, by deliberate 
and purposeful transgressions of my own. My condi- 
tion during my three weeks of exile just ended, had been, 
if anything, one of milder excitement than that which 
had obtained previously during the first seven weeks of 
my period of elation. And my condition during the two 
weeks I now remained in the best ward in the State 
Hospital was not different from my condition during 
the preceding three weeks of torture, or the succeeding 
three weeks of abuse and privation, except in so far as a 
difference was occasioned by the torture and privation 
themselves. 
Though I had long intended to effect reforms in 
existing methods of treatment, my reckless desire to in- A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
145 
vestigate violent wards did not possess me until I my- 
self had experienced the torture of continued confinement 
in one such ward before coming to this state institution. 
It was simple to deduce that if one could suffer such 
abuses as I had while a patient in a private institution— 
nay, in two private institutions—brutality must exist in 
a state hospital also. Thus it was that I entered the 
State Hospital with a firm resolve to inspect person- 
ally every type of ward, good and bad. 
But I was in no hurry to begin. My recent experi- 
ence had exhausted me, and I wished to regain strength 
before subjecting myself to another such ordeal. This 
desire to recuperate controlled my conduct for a while, 
but its influence gradually diminished as life became 
more and more monotonous. I soon found the good 
ward entirely too polite. I craved excitement—action. 
And I determined to get it regardless of consequences; 
though I am free to confess I should not have had the 
courage to proceed with my plan had I known what was 
in store for me. 
About this time my conservator called to see me. Of 
course, I told him all about my cruel experiences at the 
private institution. My account surprised and dis- 
tressed him. I also told him that I knew for a fact that 
similar conditions existed at the State Hospital, as I had 
heard convincing rumors to that effect. He urged me 
to behave myself and remain in the ward where I was, 
which ward, as I admitted, was all that one could desire 
—provided one had schooled himself to desire that sort 
of thing. 146 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
The fact that I was under lock and key and behind 
what were virtually prison bars in no way gave me a 
sense of helplessness. I firmly believed that I should 
find it easy to effect my escape and reach home for the 
Thanksgiving Day celebration. And, furthermore, I 
knew that, should I reach home, I should not be denied 
my portion of the good things to eat before being returned 
to the hospital. Being under the spell of an intense 
desire to investigate the violent ward, I concluded 
that the time for action had come. I reasoned, too, 
that it would be easier and safer to escape from that 
ward—which was on a level with the ground—than 
from a ward three stories above it. The next thing I 
did was to inform the attendants (not to mention sev- 
eral of the patients) that within a day or two I should 
do something to cause my removal to it. They of 
course did not believe that I had any idea of deliberately 
inviting such a transfer. My very frankness disarmed 
them. 
On the evening of November 21st, I went from room 
to room collecting all sorts of odds and ends belonging 
to other patients. These I secreted in my room. I 
also collected a small library of books, magazines and 
newspapers. After securing all the booty I dared, I 
mingled with the other patients until the time came 
for going to bed. The attendants soon locked me in 
my junk shop and I spent the rest of the night setting 
it in disorder. My original plan had been to barricade 
the door during the night, and thus hold the doctors and 
attendants at bay until those in authority had accepted A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
147 
my ultimatum, which was to include a Thanksgiving 
visit at home. But before morning I had slightly altered 
my plan. My sleepless night of activity had made me 
ravenously hungry, and I decided that it would be 
wiser not only to fill my stomach, but to lay by other 
supplies of food before submitting to a siege. Accord- 
ingly I set things to rights and went about my business 
the next morning as usual. At breakfast I ate enough 
for two men, and put in my pockets bread enough to last 
for twenty-four hours at least. Then I returned to my 
room and at once barricaded the door. My barricade 
consisted of a wardrobe, several drawers which I had 
removed from the bureau, and a number of books— 
among them “Paradise Lost” and the Bible. These, 
with conscious satisfaction, I placed in position as a 
keystone. Thus the floor space between the door and 
the opposite wall of the room was completely filled. My 
roommate, a young fellow in the speechless condition 
in which I had been during my period of depression, was 
in the room with me. This was accidental. It was 
no part of my plan to hold him as a hostage, though I 
might finally have used him as a pawn in the negotia- 
tions, had my barricade resisted the impending attack 
longer than it did. 
It was not long before the attendants realized that 
something was wrong. They came to my door and 
asked me to open it. I refused, and told them that to 
argue the point would be a waste of time. They tried 
to force an entrance. Failing in that, they reported to 
the assistant physician, who soon appeared. At first he 148 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
parleyed with me. I good-naturedly, but emphatically, 
told him that I could not be talked out of the position 
I had taken; nor could I be taken out of it until I was 
ready to surrender, for my barricade was one that would 
surely hold. I also announced that I had carefully 
planned my line of action and knew what I was about. 
I complimented him on his hitherto tactful treatment of 
me, and grandiloquently—yet sincerely—thanked him 
for his many courtesies. I also expressed entire satisfac- 
tion with the past conduct of the attendants. In fact, 
on part of the institution I put the stamp of my 
approval. “ But,” I said, “ I know there are wards 
in this hospital where helpless patients are brutally 
treated; and I intend to put a stop to these abuses at 
once. Not until the Governor of the State, the judge 
who committed me, and my conservator come to this 
door will I open it. When they arrive, we’ll see whether 
or not patients are to be robbed of their rights and 
abused.” 
My speech was made through a screen transom over 
the door. For a few minutes the doctor continued his 
persuasive methods, but that he should even imagine 
that I would basely recede from my high and mighty 
position only irritated me the more. 
“You can stand outside that door all day if you 
choose,” I said. “I won’t open it until the three men 
I have named appear. I have prepared for a siege; and 
I have enough food in this room to keep me going for a 
day anyway.” 
Realizing at last that no argument would move A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
149 
me, he set about forcing an entrance. First he tried 
to remove the transom by striking it with a stout stick. 
I gave blow for blow and the transom remained in 
place. A carpenter was then sent for, but before 
he could go about his work one of the attendants 
managed to open the door enough to thrust in his 
arm and shove aside my barricade. I did not realize 
what was being done until it was too late to interfere. 
The door once open, in rushed the doctor and four attend- 
ants. Without ceremony I was thrown upon the bed, 
with two or three of the attacking force on top of me. 
Again I was choked, this time by the doctor. The 
operation was a matter of only a moment. But 
before it was over I had the good fortune to deal the 
doctor a stinging blow on the jaw, for which (as he was 
about my own age and the odds were five to one) I have 
never felt called upon to apologize. 
Once I was subdued, each of the four attendants 
attached himself to a leg or an arm and, under the direc- 
tion and leadership of the doctor, I was carried bodily 
through two corridors, down two flights of stairs, and 
to the violent ward. My dramatic exit startled my 
fellow-patients, for so much action in so short a time 
is seldom seen in a quiet ward. And few patients placed 
in the violent ward are introduced with so impressive 
an array of camp-followers as I had that day. 
All this to me was a huge joke, with a good purpose 
behind it. Though excited I was good-natured and, 
on the way to my new quarters, I said to the doctor: 
“Whether you believe it or not, it’s a fact that I’m going 150 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
to reform these institutions before I’m done. I raised 
this rumpus to make you transfer me to the violent 
ward. What I want you to do now is to show me the 
worst you’ve got.” 
“You needn’t worry,” the doctor said. “You’ll 
get it.” 
He spoke the truth. XIX 
Even for a violent ward my entrance was spectac- 
ular—if not dramatic. The three attendants regularly 
in charge naturally jumped to the conclusion that, in 
me, a troublesome patient had been foisted upon them. 
They noted my arrival with an unpleasant curiosity, 
which in turn aroused my curiosity, for it took but a 
glance to convince me that my burly keepers were typical 
attendants of the brute-force type. Acting on the order 
of the doctor in charge, one of them stripped me of my 
outer garments; and, clad in nothing but underclothes, 
I was thrust into a cell. 
Few, if any, prisons in this country contain worse 
holes than this cell proved to be. It was one of five, 
situated in a short corridor adjoining the main ward. 
It was about six feet wide by ten long and of a good 
height. A heavily screened and barred window admitted 
light and a negligible quantity of air, for the ventilation 
scarcely deserved the name. The walls and floor were 
bare, and there was no furniture. A patient confined here 
must lie on the floor with no substitute for a bed but one 
or two felt druggets. Sleeping under such conditions 
becomes tolerable after a time, but not until one has 
become accustomed to lying on a surface nearly as hard 
as a stone. Here (as well, indeed, as in other parts of 
the ward) for a period of three weeks I was again forced 
151 152 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
to breathe and rebreathe air so vitiated that even when 
I occupied a larger room in the same ward, doctors and 
attendants seldom entered without remarking its quality. 
My first meal increased my distaste for my semi-socio- 
logical experiment. For over a month I was kept in a 
half-starved condition. At each meal, to be sure, I 
was given as much food as was served to other patients, 
but an average portion was not adequate to the needs 
of a patient as active as I was at this time. 
Worst of all, winter was approaching and these, my 
first quarters, were without heat. As my olfactory 
nerves soon became uncommunicative, the breathing of 
foul air was not a hardship. On the other hand, to be 
famished the greater part of the time was a very conscious 
hardship. But to be half-frozen, day in and day out 
for a long period, was exquisite torture. Of all the suffer- 
ing I endured, that occasioned by confinement in cold 
cells seems to have made the most lasting impression. 
Hunger is a local disturbance, but when one is cold, every 
nerve in the body registers its call for help. Long 
before reading a certain passage of De Quincey’s I had 
decided that cold could cause greater suffering than 
hunger; consequently, it was with great satisfaction 
that I read the following sentences from his “Confes- 
sions”: “O ancient women, daughters of toil and suf- 
fering, among all the hardships and bitter inheritances 
of flesh that ye are called upon to face, not one—not 
even hunger—seems in my eyes comparable to that of 
nightly cold. ... A more killing curse there does not 
exist for man or woman than the bitter combat between A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
153 
the weariness that prompts sleep and the keen, search- 
ing cold that forces you from that first access of sleep 
to start up horror-stricken, and to seek warmth vainly 
in renewed exercise, though long since fainting under 
fatigue.” 
The hardness of the bed and the coldness of the room 
were not all that interfered with sleep. The short 
corridor in which I was placed was known as the “Bull 
Pen”—a phrase eschewed by the doctors. It was usually 
in an uproar, especially during the dark hours of the 
early morning. Patients in a state of excitement may 
sleep during the first hours of the night, but seldom all 
night; and even should one have the capacity to do 
so, his companions in durance would wake him with a 
shout or a song or a curse or the kicking of a door. 
A noisy and chaotic medley frequently continued with- 
out interruption for hours at a time. Noise, unearthly 
noise, was the poetic license allowed the occupants of 
these cells. I spent several days and nights in one or 
another of them, and I question whether I averaged 
more than two or three hours’ sleep a night during that 
time. Seldom did the regular attendants pay any at- 
tention to the noise, though even they must at times have 
been disturbed by it. In fact the only person likely to 
attempt to stop it was the night watch, who, when he 
did enter a cell for that purpose, almost invariably 
kicked or choked the noisy patient into a state of tem- 
porary quiet. I noted this and scented trouble. 
Drawing and writing materials having been again 
taken from me, I cast about for some new occupation. 154 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
I found one in the problem of warmth. Though I 
gave repeated expression to the benumbed messages 
of my tortured nerves, the doctor refused to return my 
clothes. For a semblance of warmth I was forced to 
depend upon ordinary undergarments and an extra- 
ordinary imagination. The heavy felt druggets were 
about as plastic as blotting paper and I derived little 
comfort from them until I hit upon the idea of rending 
them into strips. These strips I would weave into a 
crude Rip Van Winkle kind of suit; and so intricate was 
the warp and woof that on several occasions an attend- 
ant had to cut me out of these sartorial improvisations. 
At first, until I acquired the destructive knack, the 
tearing of one drugget into strips was a task of four 
or five hours. But in time I became so proficient 
that I could completely destroy more than one of these 
six-by-eight-foot druggets in a single night. During the 
following weeks of my close confinement I destroyed 
at least twenty of them, each worth, as I found out 
later, about four dollars; and I confess I found a peculiar 
satisfaction in the destruction of property belonging to a 
State which had deprived me of all my effects except 
underclothes. But my destructiveness was due to a 
variety of causes. It was occasioned primarily by a 
“pressure of activity,” for which the tearing of druggets 
served as a vent. I was in a state of mind aptly 
described in a letter written during my first month of 
elation, in which I said, “I’m as busy as a nest of 
ants.” 
Though the habit of tearing druggets was the out- A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
155 
growth of an abnormal impulse, the habit itself lasted 
longer than it could have done had I not, for so long a 
time, been deprived of suitable clothes and been held 
a prisoner in cold cells. But another motive soon 
asserted itself. Being deprived of all the luxuries of 
life and most of the necessities, my mother wit, always 
conspiring with a wild imagination for something to 
occupy my time, led me at last to invade the field of 
invention. With appropriate contrariety, an unfamiliar 
and hitherto almost detested line of investigation now 
attracted me. Abstruse mathematical problems which 
had defied solution for centuries began to appear easy. 
To defy the State and its puny representatives had be- 
come mere child’s play. So I forthwith decided to 
overcome no less a force than gravity itself. 
My conquering imagination soon tricked me into 
believing that I could lift myself by my boot-straps— 
or rather that I could do so when my laboratory should 
contain footgear that lent itself to the experiment. But 
what of the strips of felt torn from the druggets? Why, 
these I used as the straps of my missing boots; and 
having no boots to stand in, I used my bed as boots. 
I reasoned that for my scientific purpose a man in bed 
was as favorably situated as a man in boots. There- 
fore, attaching a sufficient number of my felt strips to 
the head and foot of the bed (which happened not to 
be screwed to the floor), and, in turn, attaching the free 
ends to the transom and the window guard, I found 
the problem very simple. For I next joined these 
cloth cables in such manner that by pulling downward 156 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
I effected a readjustment of stress and strain, and my 
bed, with me in it, was soon dangling in space. My 
sensations at this momentous instant must have been 
much like those which thrilled Newton when he solved 
one of the riddles of the universe. Indeed, they must 
have been more intense, for Newton, knowing, had his 
doubts; I, not knowing, had no doubts at all. So 
epoch-making did this discovery appear to me that I 
noted the exact position of the bed so that a wondering 
posterity might ever afterward view and revere the 
exact spot on the earth’s surface whence one of man’s 
greatest thoughts had winged its way to immortality. 
For weeks I believed I had uncovered a mechanical 
principle which would enable man to defy gravity. And 
I talked freely and confidently about it. That is, I 
proclaimed the impending results. The intermediate 
steps in the solution of my problem I ignored, for good 
reasons. A blind man may harness a horse. So long 
as the horse is harnessed, one need not know the office 
of each strap and buckle. Gravity was harnessed— 
that was all. Meanwhile I felt sure that another 
sublime moment of inspiration would intervene and 
clear the atmosphere, thus rendering flight of the body 
as easy as a flight of imagination. XX 
While my inventive operations were in progress, I was 
chafing under the unjust and certainly unscientific 
treatment to which I was being subjected. In spite of 
my close confinement in vile cells, for a period of over 
three weeks I was denied a bath. I do not regret this 
deprivation, for the attendants, who at the beginning were 
unfriendly, might have forced me to bathe in water which 
had first served for several other patients. Though such 
an unsanitary and disgusting practice was contrary to 
rules, it was often indulged in by the lazy brutes who 
controlled the ward. 
I continued to object to the inadequate portions of 
food served me. On Thanksgiving Day (for I had not 
succeeded in escaping and joining in the celebration 
at home) an attendant, in the unaccustomed r61e of a 
ministering angel, brought me the usual turkey and 
cranberry dinner which, on two days a year, is provided 
by an intermittently generous State. Turkey being the 
rara avis of the imprisoned, it was but natural that I should 
desire to gratify a palate long insulted. I wished not only 
to satisfy my appetite, but to impress indelibly a memory 
which for months had not responded to so agreeable a 
stimulus. While lingering over the delights of this 
experience I forgot all about the ministering angel. But 
not for long. He soon returned. Observing that I had 
157 158 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
scarcely touched my feast, he said, “If you don’t eat 
that dinner in a hurry, I’ll take it from you.” 
“I don’t see what difference it makes to you whether 
I eat it in a hurry or take my time about it,” I said. 
“It’s the best I’ve had in many a day, and I have a right 
to get as much pleasure out of it as I can.” 
“We’ll see about that,” he replied, and, snatching it 
away, he stalked out of the room, leaving me to satisfy 
my hunger on the memory of vanished luxuries. Thus 
did a feast become a fast. 
Under this treatment I soon learned to be more noisy 
than my neighbors. I was never without a certain 
humor in contemplating not only my surroundings, but 
myself; and the demonstrations in which I began to 
indulge were partly in fun and partly by way of protest. 
In these outbursts I was assisted, and at times inspired, 
by a young man in the room next mine. He was about 
my own age and was enjoying the same phase of exuber- 
ance as myself. We talked and sang at all hours of the 
night. At the time we believed that the other patients 
enjoyed the spice which we added to the restricted variety 
of their lives, but later I learned that a majority of 
them looked upon us as the worst of nuisances. 
We gave the doctors and attendants no rest—at least 
not intentionally. Whenever the assistant physician 
appeared, we upbraided him for the neglect which was 
then our portion. At one time or another we were 
banished to the Bull Pen for these indiscretions. And 
had there been a viler place of confinement still, our 
performances in the Bull Pen undoubtedly would have A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
159 
brought us to it. At last the doctor hit upon the 
expedient of transferring me to a room more remote 
from my inspiring, and, I may say, conspiring, com- 
panion. Talking to each other ceased to be the easy 
pastime it had been; so we gradually lapsed into a 
comparative silence which must have proved a 
boon to our ward-mates. The megaphonic Bull Pen, 
however, continued with irregularity, but annoying cer- 
tainty to furnish its quota of noise. 
On several occasions I concocted plans to escape, 
and not only that, but also to liberate others. That I 
did not make the attempt was the fault—or merit, per- 
haps—of a certain night watch, whose timidity, rather 
than sagacity, impelled him to refuse to unlock my door 
early one morning, although I gave him a plausible 
reason for the request. This night watch, I learned 
laler, admitted that he feared to encounter me single- 
handed. And on this particular occasion well might 
he, for, during the night, I had woven a spider-web net 
in which I intended to enmesh him. Had I succeeded, 
there would have been a lively hour for him in the violent 
ward—had I failed, there would have been a lively hour 
for me. There were several comparatively sane patients 
(especially my elated neighbor) whose willing assistance 
I could have secured. Then the regular attendants could 
have been held prisoners in their own room, if, indeed, 
we had not in turn overpowered them and transferred 
them to the Bull Pen, where the several victims of 
their abuse might have given them a deserved dose 
of their own medicine. This scheme of mine was a 160 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
prank rather than a plot. I had an inordinate desire 
to prove that one could escape if he had a mind to do so. 
Later I boasted to the assistant physician of my unsuc- 
cessful attempt. This boast he evidently tucked away 
in his memory. 
My punishment for harmless antics of this sort was 
prompt in coming. The attendants seemed to think 
their whole duty to their closely confined charges con- 
sisted in delivering three meals a day. Between meals 
he was a rash patient who interfered with their leisure. 
Now one of my greatest crosses was their continued 
refusal to give me a drink when I asked for it. Except 
at meal time, or on those rare occasions when I was 
permitted to go to the wash room, I had to get along 
as best I might with no water to drink, and that 
too at a time when I was in a fever of excitement. 
My polite requests were ignored; impolite demands 
were answered with threats and curses. And this war 
of requests, demands, threats, and curses continued 
until the night of the fourth day of my banishment. 
Then the attendants made good their threats of assault. 
That they had been trying to goad me into a fighting 
mood I well knew, and often accused them of their 
mean purpose. They brazenly admitted that they 
were simply waiting for a chance to “slug” me, and 
promised to punish me well as soon as I should give 
them a slight excuse for doing so. 
On the night of November 25th, 1902, the head attend- 
ant and one of his assistants passed my door. They 
were returning from one of the dances which, at intervals A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
161 
during the winter, the management provides for the 
nurses and attendants. While they were within hear- 
ing, I asked for a drink of water. It was a carefully 
worded request. But they were in a hurry to get to bed, 
and refused me with curses. Then I replied in kind. 
“If I come there I’ll kill you,” one of them said. 
“Well, you won’t get in if I can help it,” I replied, as 
I braced my iron bedstead against the door. 
My defiance and defences gave the attendants the 
excuse for which they had said they were waiting; and 
my success in keeping them out for two or three minutes 
only served to enrage them. By the time they had 
gained entrance they had become furies. One was a 
young man of twenty-seven. Physically he was a fine 
specimen of manhood; morally he was deficient— 
thanks to the dehumanizing effect of several years 
in the employ of different institutions whose officials 
countenanced improper methods of care and treatment. 
It was he who now attacked me in the dark of my prison 
room. The head attendant stood by, holding a lantern 
which shed a dim light. 
The door once open, I offered no further resistance. 
First I was knocked down. Then for several minutes 
I was kicked about the room—struck, kneed and choked. 
My assailant even attempted to grind his heel into my 
cheek. In this he failed, for I was there protected by a 
heavy beard which I wore at that time. But my shins, 
elbows, and back were cut by his heavy shoes; and had 
I not instinctively drawn up my knees to my elbows for 
the protection of my body, I might have been seriously, 162 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
perhaps fatally, injured. As it was, I was severely cut 
and bruised. When my strength was nearly gone, I 
feigned unconsciousness. This ruse alone saved me from 
further punishment, for usually a premeditated assault 
is not ended until the patient is mute and helpless. 
When they had accomplished their purpose, they left 
me huddled in a corner to wear out the night as best I 
might—to live or die for all they cared. 
Strange as it may seem, I slept well. But not at once. 
Within five minutes I was busily engaged writing an 
account of the assault. A trained war correspondent 
could not have pulled himself together in less time. As 
usual I had recourse to my bit of contraband lead pencil, 
this time a pencil which had been smuggled to me the 
very first day of my confinement in the Bull Pen by a 
sympathetic fellow-patient. When he had pushed 
under my cell door that little implement of war, it had 
loomed as large in my mind as a battering-ram. Paper 
I had none; but I had previously found walls to be a 
fair substitute. I therefore now selected and wrote 
upon a rectangular spot—about three feet by two — 
which marked the reflection of a fight in the corridor 
just outside my transom. 
The next morning, when the assistant physician 
appeared, he was accompanied as usual by the guilty 
head attendant who, on the previous night, had held 
the lantern. 
“Doctor,” I said, “I have something to tell you,”— 
and I glanced significantly at the attendant. “Last 
night I had a most unusual experience. I have had A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
163 
many imaginary experiences during the past two years 
and a half, and it may be that last night’s was not real. 
Perhaps the whole thing was phantasmagoric—like what 
I used to see during the first months of my illness. 
Whether it was so or not I shall leave you to judge. It 
just happens to be my impression that I was brutally 
assaulted last night. If it was a dream, it is the first 
thing of the kind that ever left visible evidence on my 
body.” 
With that I uncovered to the doctor a score of bruises 
and lacerations. I knew these would be more impres- 
sive than any words of mine. The doctor put on a 
knowing look, but said nothing and soon left the room. 
His guilty subordinate tried to appear unconcerned, and 
I really believe he thought me not absolutely sure of the 
events of the previous night, or at least unaware of 
his share in them. XXI 
Neither of the attendants involved in the assault 
upon me was discharged. This fact made me more 
eager to gain wider knowledge of conditions. The 
self-control which had enabled me to suspend speech 
for a whole day now stood me in good stead. It en- 
abled me to avert much suffering that would have 
been my portion had I been like the majority of my 
ward-mates. Time and again I surrendered when an 
attendant was about to chastise me. But at least a 
score of patients in the ward were not so well equipped 
mentally, and these were viciously assaulted again and 
again by the very men who had so thoroughly initiated 
me into the mysteries of their black art. 
I soon observed that the only patients who were not 
likely to be subjected to abuse were the very ones least 
in need of care and treatment. The violent, noisy, 
and troublesome patient was abused because he was 
violent, noisy, and troublesome. The patient too weak, 
physically or mentally, to attend to his own wants was 
frequently abused because of that very helplessness 
which made it necessary for the attendants to wait 
upon him. 
Usually a restless or troublesome patient placed 
in the violent ward was assaulted the very first day. 
This procedure seemed to be a part of the established 
164 165 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
code of dishonor. The attendants imagined that the 
best way to gain control of a patient was to cow him 
from the first. In fact, these fellows — nearly all 
of them ignorant and untrained—seemed to believe that 
“violent cases” could not be handled in any other way. 
One attendant, on the very day he had been discharged for 
choking a patient into an insensibility so profound that 
it had been necessary to call a physician to restore him, 
said to me, “ They are getting pretty damned strict 
these days, discharging a man simply for choking a 
patient.” This illustrates the attitude of many at- 
tendants. On the other hand, that the discharged 
employe soon secured a position in a similar institution 
not twenty miles distant illustrates the attitude of some 
hospital managements. 
I recall the advent of a new attendant—a young 
man studying to become a physician. At first he seemed 
inclined to treat patients kindly, but he soon fell into 
brutal ways. His change of heart was due partly to 
the brutalizing environment, but more directly to the 
attitude of the three hardened attendants who mistook 
his consideration for cowardice and taunted him for it. 
Just to prove his mettle he began to assault patients, 
and one day knocked me down simply for refusing to 
stop my prattle at his command. That the environ- 
ment in some institutions is brutalizing, was strikingly 
shown in the testimony of an attendant at a pub- 
lic investigation in Kentucky, who said, “ When I 
came here, if anyone had told me I would be guilty 
of striking patients I would have called him crazy 166 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
himself, but now I take delight in punching hell out 
of them.” 
I found also that an unnecessary and continued lack 
of out-door exercise tended to multiply deeds of violence. 
Patients were supposed to be taken for a walk at least 
once a day, and twice, when the weather permitted. 
Yet those in the violent ward (and it is they who 
most need the exercise) usually got out of doors only 
when the attendants saw fit to take them. For 
weeks a ward-mate—a man sane enough to enjoy free- 
dom, had he had a home to go to—kept a record of the 
number of our walks. It showed that we averaged 
not more than one or two a week for a period of two 
months. This, too, in the face of many pleasant days, 
which made the close confinement doubly irksome. 
The lazy fellows on whose leisure we waited preferred 
to remain in the ward, playing cards, smoking, and telling 
their kind of stories. The attendants needed regular 
exercise quite as much as the patients and when they 
failed to employ their energy in this healthful way, they 
were likely to use it at the expense of the bodily com- 
fort of their helpless charges. 
If lack of exercise produced a need of discipline, each 
disciplinary move, on the other hand, served only to in- 
flame us the more. Some wild animals can be clubbed 
into a semblance of obedience, yet it is a treacherous 
obedience at best, and justly so. And that is the only 
kind of obedience into which a man can be clubbed. To 
imagine otherwise of a human being, sane or insane, is 
the very essence of insanity itself. A temporary leisure A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
167 
may be won for the aggressor, but in the long run he 
will be put to greater inconvenience than he would be 
by a more humane method. It was repression and 
wilful frustration of reasonable desires which kept me 
a seeming maniac and made seeming maniacs of others. 
Whenever I was released from lock and key and per- 
mitted to mingle with the so-called violent patients, I 
was surprised to find that comparatively few were by 
nature troublesome or noisy. A patient, calm in mind 
and passive in behavior three hundred and sixty days 
in the year, may, on one of the remaining days, commit 
some slight transgression, or, more likely, be goaded 
into one by an attendant or needlessly led into one by 
a tactless physician. His indiscretion may consist merely 
in an unmannerly announcement to the doctor of how 
lightly the latter is regarded by the patient. At once 
he is banished to the violent ward, there to remain for 
weeks, perhaps indefinitely. XXII 
Like fires and railroad disasters, assaults seemed to 
come in groups. Days would pass without a single out- 
break. Then would come a veritable carnival of abuse 
—due almost invariably to the attendants’ state of mind, 
not to an unwonted aggressiveness on the part of the 
patients. I can recall as especially noteworthy several 
instances of atrocious abuse. Five patients were chronic 
victims. Three of them, peculiarly irresponsible, suf- 
fered with especial regularity, scarcely a day passing 
without bringing to them its quota of punishment. One 
of these, almost an idiot, and quite too inarticulate to tell 
a convincing story even under the most favorable con- 
ditions, became so cowed that, whenever an attendant 
passed, he would circle his oppressor as a whipped cur 
circles a cruel master. If this avoidance became too 
marked, the attendant would then and there chastise 
him for the implied, but unconscious insult. 
There was a young man, occupying a cell next to mine 
in the Bull Pen, who was so far out of his mind as to be 
absolutely irresponsible. His offence was that he could 
not comprehend and obey. Day after day I could hear 
the blows and kicks as they fell upon his body, and his 
incoherent cries for mercy were as painful to hear as 
they are impossible to forget. That he survived is sur- 
168 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
169 
prising. What wonder that this man, who was “ vio- 
lent,” or who was made violent, would not permit the 
attendants to dress him! But he had a half-witted 
friend, a ward-mate, who could coax him into his clothes 
when his oppressors found him most intractable. 
Of all the patients known to me, the one who was 
assaulted with the greatest frequency was an incoherent 
and irresponsible man of sixty years. This patient was 
restless and forever talking or shouting, as any man 
might if oppressed by such delusions as his. He was 
profoundly convinced that one of the patients had 
stolen his stomach—an idea inspired perhaps by the 
remarkable corpulency of the person he accused. His loss 
he would wofully voice even while eating. Of course, 
argument to the contrary had no effect; and his monot- 
onous recital of his imaginary troubles made him unpop- 
ular with those whose business it was to care for him. 
They showed him no mercy. Each day—including the 
hours of the night, when the night watch took a hand 
—he was belabored with fists, broom handles, and fre- 
quently with the heavy bunch of keys which attendants 
usually carry on a long chain. He was also kicked and 
choked, and his suffering was aggravated by his almost 
continuous confinement in the Bull Pen. An exception 
to the general rule (for such continued abuse often 
causes death), this man lived a long time—five years, 
as I learned later. 
Another victim, forty-five years of age, was one who 
had formerly been a successful man of affairs. His was 
a forceful personality, and the traits of his sane days 170 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
influenced his conduct when he broke down mentally. 
He was in the expansive phase of paresis, a phase dis- 
tinguished by an exaggerated sense of well-being, and by 
delusions of grandeur which are symptoms of this form as 
well as of several other forms of mental disease. Paresis, 
as everyone knows, is considered incurable and victims 
of it seldom live more than three or four years. In this 
instance, instead of trying to make the patient’s last 
days comfortable, the attendants subjected him to a 
course of treatment severe enough to have sent even a 
sound man to an early grave. I endured privations and 
severe abuse for one month at the State Hospital. This 
man suffered in all ways worse treatment for many 
months. 
I became well acquainted with two jovial and witty 
Irishmen. They were common laborers. One was a 
hodcarrier, and a strapping fellow. When he arrived 
at the institution, he was at once placed in the violent 
ward, though his “violence” consisted of nothing more 
than an annoying sort of irresponsibility. He irritated 
the attendants by persistently doing certain trivial things 
after they had been forbidden. The attendants made no 
allowance for his condition of mind. His repetition of a 
forbidden act was interpreted as deliberate disobedience. 
He was physically powerful, and they determined to cow 
him. Of the master assault by which they attempted to 
do this I was not an eyewitness. But I was an ear 
witness. It was committed behind a closed door; and 
I heard the dull thuds of the blows, and I heard the cries 
for mercy until there was no breath left in the man A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
171 
with which he could beg even for his life. For days, 
that wrecked Hercules dragged himself about the ward 
moaning pitifully. He complained of pain in his side 
and had difficulty in breathing, which would seem to 
indicate that some of his ribs had been fractured. This 
man was often punished, frequently for complaining of 
the torture already inflicted. But later, when he began 
to return to the normal, his good-humor and native wit 
won for him an increasing degree of good treatment. 
The other patient’s arch offence—a symptom of his 
disease—was that he gabbled incessantly. He could no 
more stop talking than he could right his reason on com- 
mand. Yet his failure to become silent at a word was 
the signal for punishment. On one occasion an attend- 
ant ordered him to stop talking and take a seat at the 
further end of the corridor, about forty feet distant. 
He was doing his best to obey, even running to keep 
ahead of the attendant at his heels. As they passed 
the spot where I was sitting, the attendant felled him 
with a blow behind the ear; and, in falling, the patient’s 
head barely missed the wall. 
Addressing me, the attendant said, “Did you see that?” 
“Yes,” I replied, “and I’ll not forget it.” 
“Be sure to report it to the doctor,” he said, which 
remark showed his contempt, not only for me, but for 
those in authority. 
The man who had so terribly beaten me was par- 
ticularly flagrant in ignoring the claims of age. On 
more than one occasion he viciously attacked a man of 
over fifty, who, however, seemed much older. He was 172 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
a Yankee sailing-master, who in his prime could have 
thrashed his tormentor with ease. But now he was 
helpless and could only submit. However, he was not 
utterly abandoned by his old world. His wife called 
often to see him; and, because of his condition, she was 
permitted to visit him in his room. Once she arrived a 
few hours after he had been cruelly beaten. Naturally 
she asked the attendants how he had come by the hurts 
—the blackened eye and bruised head. True to the 
code, they lied. The good wife, perhaps herself a 
Yankee, was not thus to be fooled; and her growing 
belief that her husband had been assaulted was confirmed 
by a sight she saw before her visit was ended. Another 
patient, a foreigner who was a target for abuse, was 
knocked flat two or three times as he was roughly forced 
along the corridor. I saw this little affair and I saw that 
the good wife saw it. The next day she called again and 
took her husband home. The result was that after a 
few (probably sleepless) nights, she had to return him to 
the hospital and trust to God rather than the State to 
protect him. 
Another victim was a man sixty years of age. He 
was quite inoffensive, and no patient in the ward seemed 
to attend more strictly to his own business. Shortly 
after my transfer from the violent ward this man 
was so viciously attacked that his arm was broken. 
The attendant (the man who had so viciously assaulted 
me) was summarily discharged. Unfortunately, how- 
ever, the relief afforded the insane was slight and brief, 
for this same brute, like another whom I have mentioned, A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
173 
soon secured a position in another institution—this one, 
however, a thousand miles distant. 
Death by violence in a violent ward is after all not an 
unnatural death—for a violent ward. The patient of 
whom I am about to speak was also an old man—over 
sixty. Both physically and mentally he was a wreck. 
On being brought to the institution he was at once 
placed in a cell in the Bull Pen, probably because of his 
previous history for violence while at his own home. 
But his violence (if it ever existed) had already spent 
itself, and had come to be nothing more than an utter 
incapacity to obey. His offence was that he was too 
weak to attend to his common wants. The day 
after his arrival, shortly before noon, he lay stark 
naked and helpless upon the bed in his cell. This I 
know, for I went to investigate immediately after a 
ward-mate had informed me of the vicious way in which 
the head attendant had assaulted the sick man. My 
informant was a man whose word regarding an incident of 
this character I would take as readily as that of any man 
I know. He came to me, knowing that I had taken 
upon myself the duty of reporting such abominations. 
My informant feared to take the initiative, for, like 
many other patients who believe themselves doomed to 
continued confinement, he feared to invite abuse at the 
hands of vengeful attendants. I therefore promised 
him that I would report the case as soon as I had an 
opportunity. 
All day long this victim of an attendant’s unmanly 
passion lay in his cell in what seemed to be a semi-con- 174 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
scious condition. I took particular pains to observe 
his condition, for I felt that the assault of the morning 
might result in death. That night, after the doctor’s 
regular tour of inspection, the patient in question was 
transferred to a room next my own. The mode of 
transfer impressed itself upon my memory. Two 
attendants—one of them being he who had so brutally 
beaten the patient—placed the man in a sheet and, each 
taking an end, carried the hammocklike contrivance, 
with its inert contents, to what proved to be its last 
resting-place above ground. The bearers seemed as 
much concerned about their burden as one might be 
about a dead dog, weighted and ready for the river. 
That night the patient died. Whether he was mur- 
dered none can ever know. But it is my honest opinion 
that he was. Though he might never have recovered, 
it is plain that he would have lived days, perhaps months. 
And had he been humanely, nay, scientifically, treated, 
who can say that he might not have been restored to 
health and home? 
% 
The young man who had been my companion in mis- 
chief in the violent ward was also terribly abused. I 
am sure I do not exaggerate when I say that on ten oc- 
casions, within a period of two months, this man was 
cruelly assaulted, and I do not know how many times 
he suffered assaults of less severity. After one of these 
chastisements, I asked him why he persisted in his petty 
transgressions when he knew that he thereby invited 
such body-racking abuse. 
“Oh,” he said, laconically, “I need the exercise.” A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
175 
To my mind, the man who, with such gracious 
humor, could refer to what was in reality torture 
deserved to live a century. But an unkind fate decreed 
that he should die young. Ten months after his com- 
mitment to the State Hospital he was discharged as 
improved—but not cured. This was not an unusual pro- 
cedure; nor was it in his case apparently an unwise one, 
for he seemed fit for freedom. During the first month 
of regained liberty, he hanged himself. He left no 
message of excuse. In my opinion, none was necessary. 
For aught any man knows, the memories of the abuse, 
torture, and injustice which were so long his portion 
may have proved to be the last straw which overbal- 
anced the desire to live. 
Patients with less stamina than mine often sub- 
mitted with meekness; and none so aroused my sym- 
pathy as those whose submission was due to the con- 
sciousness that they had no relatives or friends to sup- 
port them in a fight for their rights. On behalf of 
these, with my usual piece of smuggled lead pencil, I 
soon began to indite and submit to the officers of the 
institution, letters in which I described the cruel prac- 
tices which came under my notice. My reports 
were perfunctorily accepted and at once forgotten or 
ignored. Yet these letters, so far as they related to 
overt acts witnessed, were lucid and should have been 
convincing. Furthermore, my allegations were fre- 
quently corroborated by bruises on the bodies of the 
patients. My usual custom was to write an account 
of each assault and hand it to the doctor in authority. 176 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
Frequently I would submit these reports to the attend- 
ants with instructions first to read and then deliver them 
to the superintendent or the assistant physician. The 
men whose cruelty I thus laid bare read with evident 
but perverted pleasure my accounts of assaults, and 
laughed and joked about my ineffectual attempts to bring 
them to book. XXIII 
I refused to be a martyr. Rebellion was my watch- 
word. The only difference between the doctor’s opinion 
of me and mine of him was that he could refuse utter- 
ance to his thoughts. Yes—there was another differ- 
ence. Mine could be expressed only in words—his in 
grim acts. 
I repeatedly made demands for those privileges to 
which I knew I was entitled. When he saw fit to grant 
them, I gave him perfunctory thanks. When he refused 
—as he usually did—I at once poured upon his head the 
vials of my wrath. One day I would be on the friend- 
liest terms with the doctor, the next I would upbraid 
him for some denial of my rights—or, as frequently 
happened, for not intervening in behalf of the rights 
of others. 
It was after one of these wrangles that I was placed in a 
cold cell in the Bull Pen at eleven o’clock one morning. 
Still without shoes and with no more covering than under- 
clothes, I was forced to stand, sit, or lie upon a bare 
floor as hard and cold as the pavement outside. Not 
until sundown was I provided even with a drugget, and 
this did little good, for already I had become thoroughly 
chilled. In consequence I contracted a severe cold 
which added greatly to my discomfort and might have 
led to serious results had I been of less sturdy fibre. 
177 178 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
This day was the thirteenth of December and the 
twenty-second of my exile in the violent ward. I re- 
member it distinctly for it was the seventy-seventh 
birthday of my father, to whom I wished to write a 
congratulatory letter. This had been my custom for 
years when absent from home on that anniversary. 
And well do I remember when, and under what 
conditions, I asked the doctor for permission. It was 
night. I was flat on my drugget-bed. My cell was 
lighted only by the feeble rays of a lantern held by an 
attendant to the doctor on this his regular visit. At 
first I couched my request in polite language. The 
doctor merely refused to grant it. I then put forth my 
plea in a way calculated to arouse sympathy. He 
remained unmoved. I then pointed out that he was 
defying the law of the State which provided that a patient 
should have stationery—a statute, the spirit of which at 
least meant that he should be permitted to communi- 
cate with his conservator. It was now three weeks 
since I had been permitted to write or send a letter to 
anyone. Contrary to my custom, therefore, I made 
my final demand in the form of a concession. I 
promised that I would write only a conventional note 
of congratulation, making no mention whatever of 
my plight. It was a fair offer; but to accept it would 
have been an implied admission that there was something 
to conceal, and for this, if for no other reason, it was 
refused. 
Thus, day after day, I was repressed in a manner which 
probably would have driven many a sane man to vio- A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
179 
lence. Yet the doctor would frequently exhort me to play 
the gentleman. Were good manners and sweet submis- 
sion ever the product of such treatment? Deprived of my 
clothes, of sufficient food, of warmth, of all sane com- 
panionship and of my liberty, I told those in authority 
that so long as they should continue to treat me as the 
vilest of criminals, I should do my best to complete the 
illusion. The burden of proving my sanity was placed 
upon me. I was told that so soon as I became polite and 
meek and lowly I should find myself in possession of 
my clothes and of certain privileges. In every instance 
I must earn my reward before being entrusted with it. 
If the doctor, instead of demanding of me all the negative 
virtues in the catalogue of spineless saints, had given 
me my clothes on the condition that they would be taken 
from me again if I so much as removed a button, his 
course would doubtless have been productive of good 
results. Thus I might have had my clothes three weeks 
earlier than I did, and so been spared much suffering 
from the cold. 
I clamored daily for a lead pencil. This little luxury 
represents the margin of happiness for hundreds of the 
patients, just as a plug or package of tobacco represents 
the margin of happiness for thousands of others; but for 
seven weeks no doctor or attendant gave me one. To be 
sure, by reason of my somewhat exceptional persistence 
and ingenuity, I managed to be always in possession of 
some substitute for a pencil, surreptitiously obtained, a 
fact which no doubt had something to do with the doctor’s 
indifference to my request. But my inability to secure 180 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
a pencil in a legitimate way was a needless source of 
annoyance to me, and many of my verbal indiscretions 
were directly inspired by the doctor’s continued refusal. 
It was an assistant physician, other than the one 
regularly in charge of my case, who at last relented and 
presented me with a good, whole lead pencil. By so 
doing he placed himself high on my list of benefactors; 
for that little shaftlike implement, magnified by my 
lively appreciation, became as the very axis of the earth. XXIV 
A few days before Christmas my most galling depriva- 
tion was at last removed. That is, my clothes were 
restored. These I treated with great respect. Not so 
much as a thread did I destroy. Clothes, as is known, 
have a sobering and civilizing effect, and from the very 
moment I was again provided with presentable outer 
garments my conduct rapidly improved. The assistant 
physician with whom I had been on such variable terms 
of friendship and enmity even took me for a sleigh-ride. 
With this improvement came other privileges or, rather, 
the granting of my rights. Late in December I was 
permitted to send letters to my conservator. Though 
some of my blood-curdling letters were confiscated, 
a few detailing my experiences were forwarded. The 
account of my sufferings naturally distressed my con- 
servator, but, as he said when he next visited me: 
“What could I have done to help you? If the men in 
this State whose business it is to run these institu- 
tions cannot manage you, I am at a loss to know what 
to do.” True, he could have done little or nothing, for 
he did not then know the ins and outs of the baffling 
situation into which the ties of blood had drawn him. 
About the middle of January the doctor in charge of 
my case went for a two weeks’ vacation. During his 
absence an older member of the staff took charge of 
181 182 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
the violent ward. A man of wider experience and more 
liberal ideas than his predecessor, he at once granted me 
several real privileges. One day he permitted me to 
pay a brief visit to the best ward—the one from which I 
had been transferred two months earlier. I thus was able 
again to mingle with many seemingly normal men, and 
though I enjoyed this privilege upon but one occasion, 
and then only for a few hours, it gave me intense satis- 
faction. 
Altogether the last six weeks of the fourteen during 
which I was confined in the violent ward were comfort- 
able and relatively happy. I was no longer subjected 
to physical abuse, though this exemption was largely 
due to my own skill in avoiding trouble. I was no longer 
cold and hungry. I was allowed a fair amount of out- 
door exercise which, after my close confinement, proved 
to be a delightful shock. But, above all, I was again 
given an adequate supply of stationery and drawing 
materials, which became as tinder under the focussed 
rays of my artistic eagerness. My mechanical investi- 
gations were gradually set aside. Art and literature 
again held sway. Except when out of doors taking 
my allotted exercise, I remained in my room reading, 
writing, or drawing. This room of mine soon became 
a Mecca for the most irrepressible and loquacious char- 
acters in the ward. But I soon schooled myself to shut 
my ears to the incoherent prattle of my unwelcome 
visitors. Occasionally, some of them would become ob- 
streperous—perhaps because of my lordly order to leave 
the room. Often did they threaten to throttle me; but A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
183 
I ignored the threats, and they were never carried out. 
Nor was I afraid that they would be. Invariably I 
induced them to obey. 
The drawings I produced at this time were crude. For 
the most part they consisted of copies of illustrations 
which I had cut from magazines that had miraculously 
found their way into the violent ward. The heads of 
men and women interested me most, for I had decided 
to take up portraiture. At first I was content to draw 
in black and white, but I soon procured some colors and 
from that time on devoted my attention to mastering 
pastel. 
In the world of letters I had made little progress. My 
compositions were for the most part epistles addressed 
to relatives and friends and to those in authority at the 
hospital. Frequently the letters addressed to the doc- 
tors were sent in sets of three—this to save time, for I 
was very busy. The first letter of such a series would 
contain my request, couched in friendly and polite terms. 
To this I would add a postscript, worded about as fol- 
lows: “If, after reading this letter, you feel inclined 
to refuse my request, please read letter number two.” 
Letter number two would be severely formal—a business- 
like repetition of the request made in letter number one. 
Again a postscript would advise the reader to consult 
letter number three, if the reading of number two had 
failed to move him. Letter number three was invariably 
a brief philippic in which I would consign the unaccom- 
modating doctor to oblivion. 
In this way I expended part of my prodigious supply 184 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
of feeling and energy. But I had also another way of 
reducing my creative pressure. Occasionally, from 
sheer excess of emotion, I would burst into verse, of a 
quality not to be doubted. Of that quality the reader 
shall judge, for I am going to quote a “creation” written 
under circumstances which, to say the least, were adverse. 
Before writing these lines I had never attempted verse 
in my life—barring intentionally inane doggerel. And, 
as I now judge these lines, it is probably true that even 
yet I have never written a poem. Nevertheless, my 
involuntary, almost automatic outburst is at least sug- 
gestive of the fervor that was in me. These fourteen 
lines were written within thirty minutes of the time I 
first conceived the idea; and I present them substantially 
as they first took form. From a psychological stand- 
point at least, I am told, they are not without interest. 
LIGHT 
Man’s darkest hour is the hour before he’s born, 
Another is the hour just before the Dawn; 
From Darkness unto Life and Light he leaps, 
To Life but once,—to Light as oft as God wills he should. 
’Tis God’s own secret, why 
Some live long, and others early die; 
For Life depends on Light, and Light on God, 
Who hath given to Man the perfect knowledge 
That Grim Despair and Sorrow end in Light 
And Life everlasting, in realms 
Where darkest Darkness becomes Light; 
But not the Light Man knows, 
Which only is Light 
Because God told Man so. A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
185 
These verses, which breathe religion, were written 
in an environment which was anything but religious. 
With curses of ward-mates ringing in my ears, some 
subconscious part of me seemed to force me to write at 
its dictation. I was far from being in a pious frame of 
mind myself, and the quality of my thought surprised 
me then—as it does now. XXV 
Though I continued to respect my clothes, I did not 
at once cease to tear such material as would serve me in 
my scientific investigations. Gravity being conquered, it 
was inevitable that I should devote some of my time to 
the invention of a flying-machine. This was soon per- 
fected—in my mind; and all I needed, that I might test 
the device, was my liberty. As usual I was unable to 
explain how I should produce the result which I so con- 
fidently foretold. But I believed and proclaimed that I 
should, ere long, fly to St. Louis and claim and receive 
the one-hundred-thousand-dollar reward offered by the 
Commission of the Louisiana Purchase Exposition for 
the most efficient airship to be exhibited. The moment 
the thought winged its way through my mind, I had not 
only a flying-machine, but a fortune in the bank. Being 
where I could not dissipate my riches, I became a lavish 
verbal spender. I was in a mood to buy anything, and 
I whiled away many an hour planning what I should do 
with my fortune. The St. Louis prize was a paltry trifle. 
I reasoned that the man who could harness gravity had 
at his beck and call the world and all that therein is. 
This sudden accession of wealth made my vast humani- 
tarian projects seem only the more feasible. What could 
be more delightful, I thought, than the furnishing and 
186 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
187 
financing of ideas of a magnitude to stagger humanity. 
My condition was one of ecstatic suspense. Give me 
my liberty and I would show a sleepy old world 
what could be done to improve conditions, not only 
among the insane, but along every line of beneficent 
endeavor. 
The city of my birth was to be made a garden-spot. 
All defiling, smoke-begriming factories were to be ban- 
ished to an innocuous distance. Churches were to give 
way to cathedrals; the city itself was to become a para- 
dise of mansions. Yale University was to be trans- 
formed into the most magnificent—yet efficient—seat of 
learning in the world. For once, college professors were 
to be paid adequate salaries, and alluring provision for 
their declining years was to be made. New Haven 
should become a very hotbed of culture. Art galleries, 
libraries, museums and theatres of a dreamlike splendor 
were to rise whenever and wherever I should will. Why 
absurd? Was it not I who would defray the cost? The 
famous buildings of the Old World were to be reproduced, 
if, indeed, the originals could not be purchased, brought 
to this country and reassembled. Not far from New 
Haven there is a sandy plain, once the bed of the Con- 
necticut River, but now a kind of miniature desert. I 
often smile as I pass it on the train; for it was here, for 
the edification of those who might never be able to visit 
the Valley of the Nile, that I planned to erect a pyramid 
that should out-Cheops the original. My harnessed 
gravity, I believed, would not only enable me to overcome 
existing mechanical difficulties, but it would make the A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
188 
quarrying of immense monoliths as easy as the slicing 
of bread, and the placing of them in position as easy as 
the laying of bricks. 
After all, delusions of grandeur are the most entertaining 
of toys. The assortment which my imagination provided 
was a comprehensive one. I had tossed aside the blocks 
of childhood days. Instead of laboriously piling small 
squares of wood one upon another in an endeavor to 
build the tiny semblance of a house, I now, in this second 
childhood of mine, projected against thin air phantom 
edifices planned and completed in the twinkling of an 
eye. To be sure, such houses of cards almost immedi- 
ately superseded one another, but the vanishing of one 
could not disturb a mind that had ever another interest- 
ing bauble to take its place. And therein lies part of the 
secret of the happiness peculiar to that stage of elation 
which is distinguished by delusions of grandeur—always 
provided that he who is possessed by them be not sub- 
jected to privation and abuse. The sane man who can 
prove that he is rich in material wealth is not nearly so 
happy as the mentally disordered man whose delusions 
trick him into believing himself a modern Croesus. A 
wealth of Midaslike delusions is no burden. Such a for- 
tune, though a misfortune in itself, bathes the world in 
a golden glow. No clouds obscure the vision. Optimism 
reigns supreme. “Failure” and “impossible” are as 
words from an unknown tongue. And the unique 
satisfaction about a fortune of this fugitive type is that 
its loss occasions no regret. One by one the phantom 
ships of treasure sail away for parts unknown; until, A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
189 
when the last ship has become but a speck on the 
mental horizon, the observer makes the happy discovery 
that his pirate fleet has left behind it a priceless wake of 
Reason! XXVI 
Early in March, 1902, having lived in a violent 
ward for nearly four months, I was transferred to 
another—a ward quite as orderly as the best in the insti- 
tution, though less attractively furnished than the one 
in which I had first been placed. Here also I had a 
room to myself; in this instance, however, the room had 
not only a bed, but a chair and a wardrobe. With this 
elaborate equipment I was soon able to convert my 
room into a veritable studio. Whereas in the violent 
ward it had been necessary for me to hide my writing 
and drawing materials to keep other patients from tak- 
ing them, in my new abode I was able to conduct my 
literary and artistic pursuits without the annoyances 
which had been inevitable during the preceding months. 
Soon after my transfer to this ward I was permitted 
to go out of doors and walk to the business section of 
the city, two miles distant. But on these walks I was 
always accompanied. To one who has never surren- 
dered any part of his liberty such surveillance would 
no doubt seem irksome; yet, to me, after being so 
closely confined, the ever-present attendant seemed a 
companion rather than a guard. These excursions 
into the sane and free world were not only a great 
pleasure, they were almost a tonic. To rub elbows with 
normal people tended to restore my mental poise. That 
190 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
191 
the casual passer-by had no way of knowing that I 
was a patient, out for a walk about the city, helped 
me gain that self-confidence so essential to the success 
of one about to re-enter a world from which he had long 
been cut off. 
My first trips to the city were made primarily for the 
purpose of supplying myself with writing and drawing 
materials. While enjoying these welcome tastes of lib- 
erty, on more than one occasion I surreptitiously mailed 
certain letters which I did not dare entrust to the doctor. 
Under ordinary circumstances such an act on the part 
of one enjoying a special privilege would be dishonor- 
able. But the circumstances that then obtained were 
not ordinary. I was simply protecting myself against 
what I believed to be unjust and illegal confiscation of 
letters. 
I have already described how an assistant physician 
arbitrarily denied my request that I be permitted to send 
a birthday letter to my father, thereby not merely ex- 
ceeding his authority and ignoring decency, but, con- 
sciously or unconsciously, stifling a sane impulse. That 
this should occur while I was confined in the Bull Pen 
was, perhaps, not so surprising. But about four months 
later, while I was in one of the best wards, a similar, 
though less open, interference occurred. At this time I 
was so nearly normal that my discharge was a question 
of but a very few months. Anticipating my return to 
my old world, I decided to renew former relationships. 
Accordingly, my brother, at my suggestion, informed 
certain friends that I should be pleased to receive letters 192 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
from them. They soon wrote. In the meantime the 
doctor had been instructed to deliver to me any and all 
letters that might arrive. He did so for a time, and 
that without censoring. As was to be expected, after 
nearly three almost letterless years, I found rare 
delight in replying to my reawakened correspondents. 
Yet some of these letters, written for the deliberate 
purpose of re-establishing myself in the sane world, 
were destroyed by the doctor in authority. At the time, 
not one word did he say to me about the matter. I had 
handed him for mailing certain letters, unsealed. He 
did not mail them, nor did he forward them to my con- 
servator as he should have done, and had earlier agreed 
to do with all letters which he could not see his way clear 
to approve. It was fully a month before I learned that 
my friends had not received my replies to their letters. 
Then I accused the doctor of destroying them, and he, 
with belated frankness, admitted that he had done so. 
He offered no better excuse than the mere statement 
that he did not approve of the sentiments I had expressed. 
Another flagrant instance was that of a letter addressed 
to me in reply to one of those which I had posted sur- 
reptitiously. The person to whom I wrote, a friend of 
years’ standing, later informed me that he had sent 
the reply. I never received it. Neither did my conser- 
vator. Were it not that I feel absolutely sure that 
the letter in question was received at the hospital 
and destroyed, I should not now raise this point. But 
such a point, if raised at all, must of course be made 
without that direct proof which can come only from the A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
193 
man guilty of an act which in the sane world is regarded 
as odious and criminal. 
I therefore need not dilate on the reasons which made 
it necessary for me to smuggle, as it were, to the Gover- 
nor of the State, a letter of complaint and instruction. 
This letter was written shortly after my transfer from 
the violent ward. The abuses of that ward were still 
fresh in my mind, and the memory of distressing scenes 
was kept vivid by reports reaching me from friends 
who were still confined there. These private sleuths 
of mine I talked with at the evening entertainments 
or at other gatherings. From them I learned that 
brutality had become more rife, if anything, since I 
had left the ward. Realizing that my crusade against 
the physical abuse of patients thus far had proved of no 
avail, I determined to go over the heads of the doctors 
and appeal to the ex-officio head of the institution, the 
Governor of the State. 
On March 12th, 1903, I wrote a letter which so dis- 
turbed the Governor that he immediately set about an 
informal investigation of some of my charges. Despite 
its prolixity, its unconventional form and what, under 
other circumstances, would be characterized as almost 
diabolic impudence and familiarity, my letter, as he 
said months later when I talked with him, “rang true.” 
The writing of it was an easy matter; in fact, so easy, 
because of the pressure of truth under which I was 
laboring at the time, that it embodied a compelling 
spontaneity. 
The mailing of it was not so easy. I knew that the 194 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
only sure way of getting my thoughts before the Governor 
was to do my own mailing. Naturally no doctor could 
be trusted to send an indictment against himself and his 
colleagues to the one man in the State who had the power 
to institute such an investigation as might make it neces- 
sary for all to seek employment elsewhere. In my frame 
of mind, to wish to mail my letter was to know how to 
accomplish the wish. The letter was in reality a book- 
let. I had thoughtfully used waterproof India drawing 
ink in writing it, in order, perhaps, that a remote pos- 
terity might not be deprived of the document. The 
booklet consisted of thirty-two eight-by-ten-inch pages 
of heavy white drawing paper. These I sewed together. 
In planning the form of my letter I had forgotten to 
consider the slot of a letter-box of average size. There- 
fore I had to adopt an unusual method of getting the 
letter into the mails. My expedient was simple. There 
was in the town a certain shop where I traded. At my 
request the doctor gave me permission to go there for 
supplies. I was of course accompanied by an attendant, 
who little suspected what was under my vest. To con- 
ceal and carry my letter in that place had been easy; 
but to get rid of it after reaching my goal was another 
matter. Watching my opportunity, I slipped the mis- 
sive between the leaves of a copy of the Saturday Even- 
ing Post. This I did, believing that some purchaser 
would soon discover the letter and mail it. Then I left 
the shop. 
On the back of the wrapper I had endorsed the follow- 
ing words: A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
195 
“Mr. Postmaster: This package is unsealed. Never- 
theless it is first-class matter. Everything I write is 
necessarily first class. I have affixed two two-cent 
stamps. If extra postage is needed you will do the Gov- 
ernor a favor if you will put the extra postage on. Or 
affix ‘due’ stamps, and let the Governor pay his own 
bills, as he can well afford to. If you want to know 
who I am, just ask his Excellency, and oblige, 
Yours truly, 
?” 
Flanking this notice, I had arrayed other forceful 
sentiments, as follows—taken from statutes which I 
had framed for the occasion: 
“Any person finding letter or package—duly stamped 
and addressed—-must mail same as said letter or package 
is really in hands of the Government the moment the 
stamp is affixed.” 
And again: 
“Failure to comply with Federal Statute which for- 
bids any one except addressee to open a letter renders 
one liable to imprisonment in State Prison.” 
My letter reached the Governor. One of the clerks 
at the shop in which I left the missive found and mailed 
it. From him I afterwards learned that my unique 
instructions had piqued his curiosity, as well as com- 
pelled my wished-for action. Assuming that the reader’s 
curiosity may likewise have been piqued, I shall quote 
certain passages from this four-thousand-word epistle 
of protest. The opening sentence read as follows: “If 
you have had the courage to read the above ” (referring 196 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
to an unconventional heading) “ I hope you will read 
on to the end of this epistle—thereby displaying real 
Christian fortitude and learning a few facts which I 
think should be brought to your attention.” 
I then introduced myself, mentioning a few common 
friends, by way of indicating that I was not without 
influential political connections, and proceeded as follows: 
“I take pleasure in informing you that I am in the Crazy 
Business and am holding my job down with ease and a 
fair degree of grace. Being in the Crazy Business, I 
understand certain phases of the business about which 
you know nothing. You as Governor are at present 
'head devil’ in this 'hell,’ though I know you are uncon- 
sciously acting as 'His Majesty’s’ ist Lieutenant.” 
I then launched into my arraignment of the treatment 
of the insane. The method, I declared, was “wrong 
from start to finish. The abuses existing here exist in 
every other institution of the kind in the country. They 
are all alike—though some of them are of course worse 
than others. Hell is hell the world over, and I might 
also add that hell is only a great big bunch of disagree- 
able details anyway. That’s all an Insane Asylum is. 
If you don’t believe it, just go crazy and take up your 
abode here. In writing this letter I am laboring under 
no mental excitement. I am no longer subjected to the 
abuses about which I complain. I am well and happy. 
In fact I never was so happy as I am now. Whether 
I am in perfect mental health or not, I shall leave for you 
to decide. If I am insane to-day I hope I may never 
recover my Reason.” A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
197 
First I assailed the management of the private insti- 
tution where I had been strait-jacketed and referred 
to “Jekyll-Hyde” as “Dr. , M.D. (Mentally De- 
ranged).” Then followed an account of the strait-jacket 
experience; then an account of abuses at the State Hos- 
pital. I described in detail the most brutal assault that 
fell to my lot. In summing up I said, “The attendants 
claimed next day that I had called them certain names. 
Maybe I did—though I don’t believe I did at all. What 
of it? This is no young ladies’ boarding school. Should 
a man be nearly killed because he swears at attendants 
who swear like pirates? I have seen at least fifteen men, 
many of them mental and physical wrecks, assaulted just 
as brutally as I was, and usually without a cause. I know 
that men’s lives have been shortened by these brutal 
assaults. And that is only a polite way of saying that 
murder has been committed here.” Turning next to 
the matter of the women’s wards, I said: “A patient in 
this ward—a man in his right mind, who leaves here on 
Tuesday next—told me that a woman patient told him 
that she had seen many a helpless woman dragged along 
the floor by her hair, and had also seen them choked by 
attendants who used a wet towel as a sort of garrote. I 
have been through the mill and believe every word of 
the abuse. You will perhaps doubt it, as it seems impos- 
sible. Bear in mind, though, that everything bad and 
disagreeable is possible in an Insane Asylum.” 
It will be observed that I was shrewd enough to 
qualify a charge I could not prove. 
When I came to the matter of the Bull Pen, I wasted 198 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
no words: “The Bull Pen,” I wrote, “is a pocket edition 
of the New York Stock Exchange during a panic.” 
I next pointed out the difficulties a patient must over- 
come in mailing letters: “It is impossible for any one to 
send a letter to you via the office. The letter would be 
consigned to the waste-basket—unless it was a particu- 
larly crazy letter—in which case it might reach you, as 
you would then pay no attention to it. But a sane letter 
and a true letter, telling about the abuses which exist 
here would stand no show of being mailed. The way 
in which mail is tampered with by the medical staff is 
contemptible.” 
I then described my stratagem in mailing my letter to 
the Governor. Discovering that I had left a page of 
my epistolary booklet blank, I drew upon it a copy of 
Rembrandt’s Anatomy Lesson, and under it wrote: 
“This page was skipped by mistake. Had to fight 
fifty-three days to get writing paper and I hate to waste 
any space—hence the masterpiece—drawn in five min- 
utes. Never drew a line till September 26 (last) and 
never took lessons in my life. I think you will readily 
believe my statement.” Continuing in the same half- 
bantering vein, I said: “I intend to immortalize all 
members of medical staff of State Hospital for Insane— 
when I illustrate my Inferno, which, when written, will 
make Dante’s Divine Comedy look like a French Farce.” 
I then outlined my plans for reform: “Whether my 
suggestions meet with approval or not,” I wrote, “will 
not affect the result—though opposition on your part 
would perhaps delay reforms. I have decided to devote A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
199 
the next few years of my life to correcting abuses now in 
existence in every asylum in this country. I know how 
these abuses can be corrected and I intend—later on, 
when I understand the subject better—to draw up a 
Bill of Rights for the Insane. Every State in the Union 
will pass it, because it will be founded on the Golden 
Rule. I am desirous of having the co-operation of the 
Governor of Connecticut, but if my plans do not appeal to 
him I shall deal directly with his only superior, the Presi- 
dent of the United States. When Theodore Roosevelt 
hears my story his blood will boil. I would write to 
him now, but I am afraid he would jump in and correct 
abuses too quickly. And by doing it too quickly too 
little good would be accomplished.” 
Waxing crafty, yet, as I believed, writing truth, I con- 
tinued: “I need money badly, and if I cared to, I could 
sell my information and services to the New York World 
or New York Journal for a large amount. But I do not 
intend to advertise Connecticut as a Hell-hole of Iniquity, 
Insanity, and Injustice. If the facts appeared in the 
public press at this time, Connecticut would lose caste 
with her sister States. And they would profit by Con- 
necticut’s disgrace and correct the abuses before they 
could be put on the rack. As these conditions prevail 
throughout the country, there is no reason why Con- 
necticut should get all the abuse and criticism which 
would follow any such revelation of disgusting abuse; 
such inhuman treatment of human wrecks. If pub- 
licity is necessary to force you to act—and I am sure it 
will not be necessary—I shall apply for a writ of habeas 200 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
corpus, and, in proving my sanity to a jury, I shall inci- 
dentally prove your own incompetence. Permitting such 
a whirl-wind reformer to drag Connecticut’s disgrace 
into open court would prove your incompetence.” 
For several obvious reasons it is well that I did not at 
that time attempt to convince a jury that I was mentally 
sound. The mere outlining of my ambitious scheme for 
reform would have caused my immediate return to the 
hospital. That scheme, however, was a sound and 
feasible one, as later events have proved. But, taking 
hold of me, as it did, while my imagination was at white 
heat, I was impelled to attack my problem with com- 
promising energy and, for a time, in a manner so uncon- 
vincing as to obscure the essential sanity of my cherished 
purpose. 
I closed my letter as follows: “No doubt you will con- 
sider certain parts of this letter rather ‘fresh.’ I apolo- 
gize for any such passages now, but, as I have an Insane 
License, I do not hesitate to say what I think. What’s 
the use when one is caged like a criminal? 
“P. S. This letter is a confidential one—and is to be 
returned to the writer upon demand.” 
The letter was eventually forwarded to my conserva- 
tor and is now in my possession. 
As a result of my protest the Governor immediately 
interrogated the superintendent of the institution where 
“Jekyll-Hyde” had tortured me. Until he laid before the 
superintendent my charges against his assistant, the 
doctor in authority had not even suspected that I had 
been tortured. This superintendent took pride in his A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
201 
institution. He was sensitive to criticism and it was 
natural that he should strive to palliate the offence of his 
subordinate. He said that I was a most troublesome 
patient, which was, indeed, the truth; for I had always 
a way of my own for doing the things that worried those 
in charge of me. In a word, I brought to bear upon the 
situation what I have previously referred to as “an 
uncanny admixture of sanity.” 
The Governor did not meet the assistant physician 
who had maltreated me. The reprimand, if there was 
to be any, was left to the superintendent to administer. 
In my letter to the Governor I had laid more stress 
upon the abuses to which I had been subjected at this 
private institution than I had upon conditions at the 
State Hospital where I was when I wrote to him. This 
may have had some effect on the action he took, or 
rather failed to take. At any rate, as to the State Hos- 
pital, no action was taken. Not even a word of warning 
was sent to the officials, as I later learned; for before 
leaving the institution I asked them. 
Though my letter did not bring about an investiga- 
tion, it was not altogether without results. Naturally, 
it was with considerable satisfaction that I informed the 
doctors that I had outwitted them, and it was with 
even greater satisfaction that I now saw those in au- 
thority make a determined, if temporary, effort to pro- 
tect helpless patients against the cruelties of attendants. 
The moment the doctors were convinced that I had 
gone over their heads and had sent a characteristic letter 
of protest to the Governor of the State, that moment A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
202 
they began to protect themselves with an energy born 
of a realization of their former shortcomings. Whether 
or not the management in question ever admitted that 
their unwonted activity was due to my successful strata- 
gem, the fact remains that the summary discharge of 
several attendants accused and proved guilty of bru- 
tality immediately followed and for a while put a stop 
to wanton assaults against which for a period of four 
months I had protested in vain. Patients who still 
lived in the violent ward told me that comparative 
peace reigned about this time. XXVII 
My failure to force the Governor to investigate con- 
ditions at the State Hospital convinced me that I could 
not hope to prosecute my reforms until I should regain 
my liberty and re-establish myself in my old world. I 
therefore quitted the role of reformer-militant; and, but 
for an occasional outburst of righteous indignation at 
some flagrant abuse which obtruded itself upon my 
notice, my demeanor was that of one quite content 
with his lot in life. 
I was indeed content—I was happy. Knowing that I 
should soon regain my freedom, I found it easy to for- 
give—taking great pains not to forget—any injustice 
which had been done me. Liberty is sweet, even to one 
whose appreciation of it has never been augmented by 
its temporary loss. The pleasurable emotions which 
my impending liberation aroused within me served to 
soften my speech and render me more tractable. This 
change the assistant physician was not slow to note, 
though he was rather slow in placing in me the degree 
of confidence which I felt I deserved. So justifiable, 
however, was his suspicion that even at the time I for- 
gave him for it. I had on so many prior occasions 
“played possum” that the doctor naturally attributed 
complex and unfathomable motives to my most inno- 
cent acts. For a long time he seemed to think that I 
was trying to capture his confidence, win the privilege 
203 204 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
of an unlimited parole, and so effect my escape. Doubt- 
less he had not forgotten the several plans for escape 
which I had dallied with and bragged about while in 
the violent ward. 
Though I was granted considerable liberty during the 
months of April, May, and June, 1903, not until July 
did I enjoy a so-called unlimited parole which enabled 
me to walk about the neighboring city unattended. My 
privileges were granted so gradually that these first 
tastes of regained freedom, though delightful, were not 
so thrilling as one might imagine. I took everything as 
a matter of course, and, except when I deliberately 
analyzed my feelings, was scarcely conscious of my 
former deprivations. 
This power to forget the past—or recall it only at will 
—has contributed much to my happiness. Some of 
those who have suffered experiences such as mine are 
prone to brood upon them, and I cannot but attrib- 
ute my happy immunity from unpleasant memories 
to the fact that I have viewed my own case much as a 
physician might view that of a patient. My past is a 
thing apart. I can examine this or that phase of it in the 
clarifying and comforting light of reason, under a mem- 
ory rendered somewhat microscopic. And I am further 
compensated by the belief that I have a distinct mission 
in life—a chance for usefulness that might never have 
been mine had I enjoyed unbroken health and uninter- 
rupted liberty. 
The last few months of my life in the hospital were 
much alike, save that each succeeding one brought with A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
205 
it an increased amount of liberty. My hours now passed 
pleasantly. Time did not drag, for I was engaged upon 
some enterprise every minute. I would draw, read, 
write, or talk. If any feeling was dominant, it was my 
feeling for art; and I read with avidity books on the 
technique of that subject. Strange as it may seem, 
however, the moment I again found myself in the world 
of business my desire to become an artist died almost as 
suddenly as it had been born. Though my artistic 
ambition was clearly an outgrowth of my abnormal 
condition, and languished when normality asserted itself, 
I am inclined to believe I should even now take a lively 
interest in the study of art if I were so situated as to be 
deprived of a free choice of my activities. The use 
of words later enthralled me because so eminently suited 
to my purposes. 
During the summer of 1903, friends and relatives 
often called to see me. The talks we had were of great 
and lasting benefit to me. Though I had rid myself 
of my more extravagant and impossible delusions of 
grandeur—flying-machines and the like—I still discussed 
with intense earnestness other schemes, which, though 
allied to delusions of grandeur, were, in truth, still more 
closely allied to sanity itself. My talk was of that high, 
but perhaps suspicious type in which Imagination over- 
rules Common Sense. Lingering delusions, as it were, 
made great projects seem easy. That they were at 
least feasible under certain conditions, my mentors 
admitted. Only I was in an abnormal hurry to pro- 
duce results. Work that I later realized could not be 206 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
accomplished in less than five or ten years, if, indeed, 
in a lifetime, I then believed could be accomplished in a 
year or two, and by me single-handed. Had I had 
none but mentally unbalanced people to talk with, I 
might have continued to cherish a distorted perspective. 
It was the unanimity of sane opinions that helped me 
to correct my own views; and I am confident that each 
talk with relatives and friends hastened my return to 
normality. 
Though I was not discharged from the State Hospital 
until September ioth, 1903, during the preceding month 
I visited my home several times, once for three days. 
These trips were not only interesting, but steadying in 
effect. I willingly returned to the hospital when my 
parole expired. Though several friends expressed sur- 
prise at this willingness to enter again an institution 
where I had experienced so many hardships, to me my 
temporary return was not in the least irksome. As I 
had penetrated and conquered the mysteries of that dark 
side of life, it no longer held any terrors for me. Nor 
does it to this day. I can contemplate the future with 
a greater degree of complacency than can some of those 
whose lot in life has been uniformly fortunate. In fact, I 
said at that time that, should my condition ever demand 
it, I would again enter a hospital for the insane, quite as 
willingly as the average person now enters a hospital 
for the treatment of bodily ailments. 
It was in this complacent and confident mood, and 
without any sharp line of transition, that I again began 
life in my old world of companionship and of business. XXVIII 
For the first month of regained freedom I remained at 
home. These weeks were interesting. Scarcely a day 
passed that I did not meet several former friends and 
acquaintances who greeted me as one risen from the 
dead. And well they might, for my three-year trip 
among the worlds—rather than around the world—was 
suggestive of complete separation from the everyday 
life of the multitude. One profound impression which 
I received at this time was of the uniform delicacy of 
feeling exhibited by my well-wishers. In no instance 
that I can recall was a direct reference made to the 
nature of my recent illness, until I had first made some 
remark indicating that I was not averse to discussing it. 
There was an evident effort on the part of friends and 
acquaintances to avoid a subject which they naturally 
supposed I wished to forget. Knowing that their 
studied avoidance of a delicate subject was inspired by 
a thoughtful consideration, rather than a lack of interest, 
I invariably forced the conversation along a line calcu- 
lated to satisfy a suppressed, but perfectly proper, curi- 
osity which I seldom failed to detect. My decision to 
stand on my past and look the future in the face has, 
I believe, contributed much to my own happiness, and, 
more than anything else, enabled my friends to view my 
207 208 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
past as I myself do. By frankly referring to my illness, 
I put my friends and acquaintances at ease, and at 
a stroke rid them of that constraint which one must 
feel in the presence of a person constantly in danger of 
being hurt by a chance allusion to an unhappy occur- 
rence. 
I have said much about the obligation of the sane in 
reference to easing the burdens of those committed to 
institutions. I might say almost as much about the 
attitude of the public toward those who survive such 
a period of exile, restored, but branded with a suspicion 
which only time can efface. Though a former patient 
receives personal consideration, he finds it difficult to 
obtain employment. No fair-minded man can find 
fault with this condition of affairs, for an inherent dread 
of insanity leads to distrust of one who has had a mental 
breakdown. Nevertheless, the attitude is mistaken. 
Perhaps one reason for this lack of confidence is to 
be found in the lack of confidence which a former 
patient often feels in himself. Confidence begets con- 
fidence, and those men and women who survive mental 
illness should attack their problem as though their 
absence had been occasioned by any one of the many 
circumstances which may interrupt the career of a 
person whose mind has never been other than sound. 
I can testify to the efficacy of this course, for it is the 
one I pursued. And I think that I have thus far met 
with as great a degree of success as I might have reason- 
ably expected had my career never been all but fatally 
interrupted. A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
209 
Discharged from the State Hospital in September, 
1903, late in October of that same year I went to New 
York. Primarily my purpose was to study art. I 
even went so far as to gather information regarding the 
several schools; and had not my artistic ambition 
taken wing, I might have worked for recognition in a 
field where so many strive in vain. But my business 
instinct, revivified by the commercially surcharged 
atmosphere of New York, soon gained sway, and 
within three months I had secured a position with the 
same firm for which I had worked when I first went to 
New York six years earlier. It was by the merest 
chance that I made this most fortunate business con- 
nection. By no stretch of my rather elastic imagination 
can I even now picture a situation that would, at one 
and the same time, have so perfectly afforded a means 
of livelihood, leisure in which to indulge my longing to 
write the story of my experiences, and an opportunity 
to further my humanitarian project. 
Though persons discharged from mental hospitals 
are usually able to secure, without much difficulty, work 
as unskilled laborers, or positions where the responsi- 
bility is slight, it is often next to impossible for them to 
secure positions of trust. During the negotiations which 
led to my employment, I was in no suppliant mood. If 
anything, I was quite the reverse; and as I have since 
learned, I imposed terms with an assurance so sublime 
that any less degree of audacity might have put an end 
to the negotiations then and there. But the man with 
whom I was dealing was not only broad-minded, he was 210 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
sagacious. He recognized immediately such an ability 
to take care of my own interests as argued an ability to 
protect those of his firm. But this alone would not have 
induced the average business man to employ me under 
the circumstances. It was the common-sense and 
rational attitude of my employer toward mental illness 
which determined the issue. This view, which is, indeed, 
exceptional to-day, will one day (within a few genera- 
tions, I believe) be too commonplace to deserve special 
mention. As this man tersely expressed it: “When an 
employe is ill, he’s ill, and it makes no difference to me 
whether he goes to a general hospital or a hospital for 
the insane. Should you ever find yourself in need of 
treatment or rest, I want you to feel that you can take 
it when and where you please, and work for us again 
when you are able.” 
Dealing almost exclusively with bankers, for that 
was the nature of my work, I enjoyed almost as much 
leisure for reading and trying to learn how to write as I 
should have enjoyed had I had an assured income that 
would have enabled me to devote my entire time to 
these pursuits. And so congenial did my work prove, 
and so many places of interest did I visit, that I might 
rather have been classed as a “commercial tourist” than 
as a commercial traveler. To view almost all of the 
natural wonders and places of historic interest east of 
the Mississippi, and many west of it; to meet and know 
representative men and women; to enjoy an almost 
uninterrupted leisure, and at the same time earn a 
livelihood—these advantages bear me out in the feeling A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
211 
that in securing the position I did, at the time I did, I 
enjoyed one of those rare compensations which Fate 
sometimes bestows upon those who survive unusual 
adversity. XXIX 
After again becoming a free man, my mind would 
not abandon the miserable ones whom I had left behind. 
I thought with horror that my reason had been threat- 
ened and baffled at every turn. Without malice toward 
those who had had me in charge, I yet looked with 
abhorrence upon the system by which I had been treated. 
But I realized that I could not successfully advocate 
reforms in hospital management until I had first proved 
to relatives and friends my ability to earn a living. 
And I knew that, after securing a position in the business 
world, I must first satisfy my employers before I could 
hope to persuade others to join me in prosecuting the 
reforms I had at heart. Consequently, during the first 
year of my renewed business activity (the year 1904), I 
held my humanitarian project in abeyance and gave 
all my executive energy to my business duties. During 
the first half of that year I gave but little time to reading 
and writing, and none at all to drawing. In a tentative 
way, however, I did occasionally discuss my project with 
intimate friends; but I spoke of its consummation as 
a thing of the uncertain future. At that time, though 
confident of accomplishing my set purpose, I believed 
I should be fortunate if my projected book were pub- 
lished before my fortieth year. That I was able to 
publish it eight years earlier was due to one of those 
212 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
213 
unlooked for combinations of circumstances which some- 
times cause a hurried change of plans. 
Late in the autumn of 1904, a slight illness detained 
me for two weeks in a city several hundred miles from 
home. The illness itself amounted to little, and, so far 
as I know, had no direct bearing on later results, except 
that, in giving me an enforced vacation, it afforded me 
an opportunity to read several of the world’s great books. 
One of these was “Les Miserables.” It made a deep 
impression on me, and I am inclined to believe it started 
a train of thought which gradually grew into a purpose 
so all-absorbing that I might have been overwhelmed 
by it, had not my over-active imagination been brought 
to bay by another’s common sense. Hugo’s plea for 
suffering Humanity—for the world’s miserable—struck 
a responsive chord within me. Not only did it revive 
my latent desire to help the afflicted; it did more. It 
aroused a consuming desire to emulate Hugo himself, 
by writing a book which should arouse sympathy for 
and interest in that class of unfortunates in whose 
behalf I felt it my peculiar right and duty to speak. I 
question whether any one ever read “Les Miserables” 
with keener feeling. By day I read the story until my 
head ached; by night I dreamed of it. 
To resolve to write a book is one thing; to write it— 
fortunately for the public—is quite another. Though I 
wrote letters with ease, I soon discovered that I knew 
nothing of the vigils or methods of writing a book. Even 
then I did not attempt to predict just when I should 
begin to commit my story to paper. But, a month later, 214 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
a member of the firm in whose employ I was made a 
remark which acted as a sudden spur. One day, while 
discussing the business situation with me, he informed 
me that my work had convinced him that he had made 
no mistake in re-employing me when he did. Naturally 
I was pleased. I had vindicated his judgment sooner 
than I had hoped. Aside from appreciating and remem- 
bering his compliment, at the time I paid no more atten- 
tion to it. Not until a fortnight later did the force of his 
remark exert any peculiar influence on my plans. 
During that time it apparently penetrated to some 
subconscious part of me—a part which, on prior occa- 
sions, had assumed such authority as to dominate 
my whole being. But, in this instance, the part that 
became dominant did not exert an unruly or even un- 
welcome influence. Full of interest in my business 
affairs one week, the next I not only had no interest in 
them, but I had begun even to dislike them. From a 
matter-of-fact man of business I was transformed into 
a man whose all-absorbing thought was the amelioration 
of suffering among the afflicted insane. Travelling on 
this high plane of ideal humanitarianism, I could get 
none but a distorted and dissatisfying view of the life 
I must lead if I should continue to devote my time to the 
comparatively deadening routine of commercial affairs. 
Thus it was inevitable that I should focus my atten- 
tion on my humanitarian project. During the last week 
of December I sought ammunition by making a visit to 
two of the institutions where I had once been a patient. 
I went there to discuss certain phases of the subject of A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
215 
reform with the doctors in authority. I was politely 
received and listened to with a degree of deference 
which was, indeed, gratifying. Though I realized that 
I was rather intense on the subject of reform, I did not 
have that clear insight into my state of mind which the 
doctors had. Indeed, I believe that only those expert 
in the detection of symptoms of a slightly disturbed 
mental condition could possibly have observed any- 
thing abnormal about me at that time. Only when I 
discussed my fond project of reform did I betray an 
abnormal stress of feeling. I could talk as convincingly 
about business as I had at any time in my life; for even 
at the height of this wave of enthusiasm I dealt at length 
with a certain banker who finally placed with my 
employers a large contract. 
After conferring with the doctors, or rather—as it 
proved—exhibiting myself to them, I returned to New 
Haven and discussed my project with the President 
of Yale University. He listened patiently—he could 
scarcely do otherwise—and did me the great favor of 
interposing his judgment at a time when I might have 
made a false move. I told him that I intended to visit 
Washington at once, to enlist the aid of President Roose- 
velt; also that of Mr. Hay, Secretary of State. Mr. 
Hadley tactfully advised me not to approach them 
until I had more thoroughly crystallized my ideas. 
His wise suggestion I had the wisdom to adopt. 
The next day I went to New York, and on January 
ist, 1905, I began to write. Within two days I had 
written about fifteen thousand words—for the most 216 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
part on the subject of reforms and how to effect them. 
One of the documents prepared at that time con- 
tained grandiloquent passages that were a portent of 
coming events—though I was ignorant of the fact. 
In writing about my project I said, “Whether I am a 
tool of God or a toy of the devil, time alone will tell; 
but there will be no misunderstanding Time’s answer if 
I succeed in doing one-tenth of the good things I 
hope to accomplish. . . . Anything which is feasible 
in this philanthropic age can easily be put into prac- 
tice. ... A listener gets the impression that I hope 
to do a hundred years’ work in a day. They are wrong 
there, for I’m not so in love with work—as such. I 
would like though to interest so many people in the 
accomplishment of my purpose that one hundred years’ 
work might be done in a fraction of that time. Hearty 
co-operation brings quick results, and once you start a 
wave of enthusiasm in a sea of humanity, and have for 
the base of that wave a humanitarian project of great 
breadth, it will travel with irresistible and ever-increasing 
impulse to the ends of the earth—which is far enough. 
According to Dr. , many of my ideas regarding 
the solution of the problem under consideration are 
years and years in advance of the times. I agree with 
him, but that is no reason why we should not put ‘the 
times’ on board the express train of progress and give 
civilization a boost to a higher level, until it finally 
lands on a plateau where performance and perfection 
will be synonymous terms.” 
Referring to the betterment of conditions, I said, A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
217 
“ And this improvement can never be brought about 
without some central organization by means of which the 
best ideas in the world may be crystallized and passed 
along to those in charge of this army of afflicted ones. 
The methods to be used to bring about these results must 
be placed on the same high level as the idea itself. 
No yellow journalism or other sensational means should 
be resorted to. Let the thing be worked up secretly and 
confidentially by a small number of men who know their 
business. Then when the very best plan has been 
formulated for the accomplishment of the desired results, 
and men of money have been found to support the 
movement until it can take care of itself, announce 
to the world in a dignified and effective manner the 
organization and aims of the society, the name of which 
shall be —, decided later. ... To start the movement 
will not require a whole lot of money. It will be started 
modestly and as financial resources of the society 
increase, the field will be broadened.” . . . “ The abuses 
and correction of same is a mere detail in the general 
scheme.” . . . “It is too early to try to interest anyone 
in this scheme of preventing breakdowns, as there are 
other things of more importance to be brought about 
first—but it will surely come in time.” 
“ ‘ Uncle Tom’s Cabin,’ ” I continued, “ had a very 
decided effect on the question of slavery of the negro 
race. Why cannot a book be written which will free 
the helpless slaves of all creeds and colors confined to-day 
in the asylums and sanitariums throughout the world? 
That is, free them from unnecessary abuses to which 218 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
they are now subjected. Such a book, I believe, can be 
written and I trust that I may be permitted to live till 
I am wise enough to write it. Such a book might 
change the attitude of the public towards those who 
are unfortunate enough to have the stigma of mental 
incompetency put upon them. Of course, an insane 
man is an insane man and while insane should be placed 
in an institution for treatment, but when that man 
comes out he should be as free from all taint as the man 
is who recovers from a contagious disease and again 
takes his place in society.” In conclusion, I said, 
“ From a scientific point of view there is a great field for 
research. . . . Cannot some of the causes be discovered 
and perhaps done away with, thereby saving the lives 
of many—and millions in money? It may come about 
that some day something will be found which will pre- 
vent a complete and incurable mental breakdown. ...” 
Thus did I, as revealed by these rather crude, unre- 
vised quotations, somewhat prophetically, if extrav- 
agantly, box the compass that later guided the ship of 
my hopes (not one of my phantom ships) into a safe 
channel, and later into a safe harbor. 
By way of mental diversion during these creative 
days at the Yale Club, I wrote personal letters to 
intimate friends. One of these produced a result un- 
looked for. There were about it compromising ear- 
marks which the friend to whom it was sent recognized. 
In it I said that I intended to approach a certain 
man of wealth and influence who lived in New York, 
with a view to securing some action that would lead to A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
219 
reform. That was enough. My friend showed the 
letter to my brother—the one who had acted as my con- 
servator. He knew at once that I was in an excited 
mental condition. But he could not very well judge 
the degree of the excitement; for when I had last talked 
with him a week earlier, I had not discussed my larger 
plans. Business affairs and my hope for business ad- 
vancement had then alone interested me. 
I talked with President Hadley on Friday; Saturday 
I went to New York; Sunday and Monday I spent at 
the Yale Club, writing; Tuesday, this telltale letter 
fell under the prescient eye of my brother. On that day 
lie at once got in touch with me by telephone. We 
briefly discussed the situation. He did not intimate 
that he believed me to be in elation. He simply urged 
me not to attempt to interest anyone in my project 
until I had first returned to New Haven and talked 
with him. Now I had already gone so far as to invite 
my employers to dine with me that very night at the 
Yale Club for the purpose of informing them of my plans. 
This I did, believing it to be only fair that they should 
know what I intended to do, so that they might dispense 
with my services should they feel that my plans would 
in any way impair my usefulness as an employe. Of 
this dinner engagement, therefore, I told my brother. 
But so insistently did he urge me to defer any such 
conference as I proposed until I had talked with him 
that, although it was too late to break the dinner engage- 
ment, I agreed to avoid, if possible, any reference to my 
project. I also agreed to return home the next day. 220 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
That night my guests honored me as agreed. For an 
hour or two we discussed business conditions and affairs 
in general. Then, one of them referred pointedly to my 
implied promise to unburden myself on a certain sub- 
ject, the nature of which he did not at the time know. 
I immediately decided that it would be best to “take 
the bull by the horns,” submit my plans, and, if neces- 
sary, sever my connection with the firm, should its mem- 
bers force me to choose (as I put it) between themselves 
and Humanity. I then proceeded to unfold my scheme; 
and, though I may have exhibited a decided intensity of 
feeling during my discourse, at no time, I believe, did I 
overstep the bounds of what appeared to be sane enthusi- 
asm. My employers agreed that my purpose was com- 
mendable—that no doubt I could and would eventually 
be able to do much for those I had left behind in a dur- 
ance I so well knew to be vile. Their one warning was 
that I seemed in too great a hurry. They expressed the 
opinion that I had not been long enough re-established 
in business to be able to persuade people of wealth and 
influence to take hold of my project. And one of my 
guests very aptly observed that I could not afford to be a 
philanthropist, which objection I met by saying that all I 
intended to do was to supply ideas for those who could 
afford to apply them. The conference ended satisfac- 
torily. My employers disclaimed any personal objection 
to my proceeding with my project, if I would, and yet 
remaining in their employ. They simply urged me to 
“go slow.” “Wait until you’re forty,” one of them said. 
I then thought that I might do so. And perhaps I should A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
221 
have waited so long, had not the events of the next two 
days put me on the right road to an earlier execution of 
my cherished plans. 
The next day, January 4th, true to my word, I went 
home. That night I had a long talk with my brother. 
I did not suspect that a man like myself, capable of 
dealing with bankers and talking for several consecu- 
tive hours with his employers without arousing their sus- 
picion as to his mental condition, was to be suspected 
by his own relatives. Nor, indeed, with the exception 
of my brother, who had read my suspiciously excellent 
letter, were any of my relatives disturbed; and he did 
nothing to disabuse my assurance. After our night 
conference he left for his own home, casually men- 
tioning that he would see me again the next morning. 
That pleased me, for I was in a talkative mood and craved 
an interested listener. 
When my brother returned the next morning, I will- 
ingly accepted his invitation to go with him to his 
office, where we could talk without fear of interruption. 
Arrived there, I calmly sat down and prepared to prove 
my whole case. I had scarcely “opened fire” when 
in walked a stranger—a strapping fellow, to whom my 
brother immediately introduced me. I instinctively 
felt that it was by no mere chance that this third party 
had so suddenly appeared. My eyes at once took in the 
dark blue trousers worn by the otherwise convention- 
ally dressed stranger. That was enough. The situa- 
tion became so clear that the explanations which 
followed were superfluous. In a word, I was under 222 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
arrest, or in imminent danger of being arrested. To 
say that I was not in the least disconcerted would 
scarcely be true, for I had not divined my brother’s 
clever purpose in luring me to his office. But I can say, 
with truth, that I was the coolest person in the room. 
I knew what I should do next, but my brother and the 
officer of the law could only guess. The fact is I did 
nothing. I calmly remained seated, awaiting the ver- 
dict which I well knew my brother, with characteristic 
decision, had already prepared. With considerable 
effort—for the situation, he has since told me, was the 
most trying one of his life—he informed me that on the 
preceding day he had talked with the doctors to whom 
I had so opportunely exhibited myself a week earlier. 
All agreed that I was in a state of elation which might or 
might not become more pronounced. They had advised 
that I be persuaded to submit voluntarily to treatment in 
a hospital, or that I be, if necessary, forcibly committed. 
On this advice my brother had proceeded to act. And 
it was well so; for, though I appreciated the fact that 
I was by no means in a normal state of mind, I had not a 
clear enough insight into my condition to realize that 
treatment and a restricted degree of liberty were what I 
needed, since continued freedom might further' inflame 
an imagination already overwrought. 
A few simple statements by my brother convinced 
me that it was for my own good and the peace of mind 
of my relatives that I should temporarily surrender my 
freedom. This I agreed to do. Perhaps the presence 
of two hundred pounds of brawn and muscle, representing A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
223 
the law, lent persuasiveness to my brother’s words. 
In fact, I did assent the more readily because I admired 
the thorough, sane, fair, almost artistic manner in which 
my brother had brought me to bay. I am inclined to 
believe that, had I suspected that a recommitment was 
imminent, I should have fled to a neighboring State 
during the preceding night. Fortunately, however, the 
right thing was done in the right way at the right time. 
Though I had been the victim of a clever stratagem, 
not for one moment thereafter, in any particular, was I 
deceived. I was frankly told that several doctors had 
pronounced me elated, and that for my own good I must 
submit to treatment. I was allowed to choose between a 
probate court commitment which would have “ admitted 
me” to the State Hospital, or a “ voluntary commitment ” 
which would enable me to enter the large private hospital 
where I had previously passed from depression to elation, 
and had later suffered tortures. I naturally chose the 
more desirable of the two disguised blessings, and agreed 
to start at once for the private hospital, the one in 
which I had been when depression gave way to elation. 
It was not that I feared again to enter the State Hospital. 
I simply wished to avoid the publicity which necessarily 
would have followed, for at that time the statutes of 
Connecticut did not provide for voluntary commitment 
to the state hospitals. Then, too, there were certain 
privileges which I knew I could not enjoy in a public 
institution. Having re-established myself in society and 
business I did not wish to forfeit that gain; and as the 
doctors believed that my period of elation would be short, 224 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
it would have been sheer folly to advertise the fact that 
my mental health had again fallen under suspicion. 
But before starting for the hospital I imposed certain 
conditions. One was that the man with the authori- 
tative trousers should walk behind at such a distance 
that no friend or acquaintance who might see my brother 
and myself would suspect that I was under guard; the 
other was that the doctors at the institution should agree 
to grant my every request, no matter how trivial, so long 
as doing so could in no way work to my own injury. My 
privileges were to include that of reading and writing to 
my heart’s content, and the procuring of such books and 
supplies as my fancy might dictate. All this was agreed 
to. In return I agreed to submit to the surveillance of 
an attendant when I went outside the hospital grounds. 
This I knew would contribute to the peace of mind of 
my relatives, who naturally could not rid themselves 
of the fear that one so nearly normal as myself might 
take it into his head to leave the State and resist further 
attempts at control. As I felt that I could easily elude 
my keeper, should I care to escape, his presence also 
contributed to my peace of mind, for I argued that the 
ability to outwit my guard would atone for the offence 
itself. 
I then started for the hospital; and I went with a will- 
ingness surprising even to myself. A cheerful philosophy 
enabled me to turn an apparently disagreeable situation 
into one that was positively pleasing to me. I convinced 
myself that I could extract more real enjoyment from 
life during the ensuing weeks within the walls of a A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
225 
“retreat” than I could in the world outside. My one 
desire was to write, write, write. My fingers itched for 
a pen. My desire to write was, I imagine, as irresistible 
as is the desire of a drunkard for his dram. And the act 
of writing resulted in an intoxicating pleasure composed 
of a mingling of emotions that defies analysis. 
That I should so calmly, almost eagerly, enter where 
devils might fear to tread may surprise the reader who 
already has been informed of the cruel treatment I had 
formerly received there. I feared nothing, for I knew 
all. Having seen the worst, I knew how to avoid the 
pitfalls into which, during my first experience at that 
hospital, I had fallen or deliberately walked. I was 
confident that I should suffer no abuse or injustice so 
long as the doctors in charge should live up to their 
agreement and treat me with unvarying fairness. This 
they did, and my quick recovery and subsequent discharge 
may be attributed partly to this cause. The assistant 
physicians who had come in contact with me during 
my first experience in this hospital were no longer there. 
They had resigned some months earlier, shortly after 
the death of the former superintendent. Thus it was 
that I started with a clean record, free from those prej- 
udices which so often affect the judgment of a hospital 
physician who has treated a mental patient at his worst. XXX 
On more than one occasion my chameleonlike tem- 
perament has enabled me to adjust myself to new condi- 
tions, but never has it served me better than it did at 
the time of which I wrte. A free man on New Year’s 
Day, enjoying the pleasures of a congenial club life, 
four days later I found myself again under the lock and 
key of an institution for the insane. Never had I enjoyed 
life in New York more than during those first days of 
that new year. To suffer so rude a change was, indeed, 
enough to arouse a feeling of discontent, if not despair; 
yet, aside from the momentary initial shock, my con- 
tentment was in no degree diminished. I can say with 
truth that I was as complacent the very moment I 
recrossed the threshold of that “retreat” as I had been 
when crossing and recrossing at will the threshold of 
my club. 
Of everything I thought and did during the interesting 
weeks which followed, I have a complete record. The 
moment I accepted the inevitable, I determined to spend 
my time to good advantage. Knowing from experience 
that I must observe my own case, if I was to have any 
detailed record of it, I provided myself in advance with 
notebooks. In these I recorded, I might almost say, 
my every thought and action. The sane part of me, 
which fortunately was dominant, subjected its tern- 
226 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
227 
porarily unruly part to a sort of scientific scrutiny and 
surveillance. From morning till night I dogged the 
steps of my restless body and my more restless imagina- 
tion. I observed the physical and mental symptoms 
which I knew were characteristic of elation. An 
exquisite light-heartedness, an exalted sense of well- 
being, my pulse, my weight, my appetite—all these I 
observed and recorded with a care that would have put 
to the blush a majority of the doctors in charge of 
mental cases in institutions. 
But this record of symptoms, though minute, was 
vague compared to my reckless analysis of my emotions. 
With a lack of reserve characteristic of my mood, I 
described the joy of living, which, for the most part, then 
consisted in the joy of writing. And even now, when I 
reread my record, I feel that I cannot overstate the 
pleasure I found in surrendering myself completely to 
that controlling impulse. The excellence of my com- 
position seemed to me beyond criticism. And, as to one 
in a state of elation, things are pretty much as they seem, 
I was able to experience the subtle delights which, I 
fancy, thrill the soul of a master. During this month 
of elation I wrote words enough to fill a book nearly as 
large as this one. Having found that each filling of my 
fountain pen was sufficient for the writing of about 
twenty-eight hundred words, I kept a record of the 
number of times I filled it. This minute calculation I 
carried to an extreme. If I wrote for fifty-nine minutes, 
and then read for seventeen, those facts I recorded. Thus, 
in my diary and out of it, I wrote and wrote until the 228 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
tips of my thumb and forefinger grew numb. As this 
numbness increased and general weariness of the hand 
set in, there came a gradual flagging of my creative 
impulse until a very normal unproductivity supervened. 
The reader may well wonder in what my so-called 
insanity at this time consisted. Had I any of those 
impracticable delusions which had characterized my 
former period of elation? No, not one—unless an 
unreasonable haste to achieve my ambitions may be 
counted a delusion. My attention simply focussed 
itself on my project. All other considerations seemed 
of little moment. My interest in business waned to 
the vanishing point. Yet one thing should be noted: 
I did deliberately devote many hours to the considera- 
tion of business affairs. Realizing that one way to 
overcome an absorbing impulse is to divide the attention, 
I wrote a brief of the arguments I had often used when 
talking with bankers. In this way I was able to convince 
the doctors that my intense interest in literature and 
reform would soon spend itself. 
A consuming desire to effect reforms had been the 
determining factor when I calmly weighed the situation 
with a view to making the best possible use of my impulse 
to write. The events of the immediate past had con- 
vinced me that I could not hope to interest people of 
wealth and influence in my humanitarian project until 
I had some definite plan to submit for their leisurely 
consideration. Further, I had discovered that an 
attempt to approach them directly disturbed my rela- 
tives and friends, who had not yet learned to dissociate A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
229 
present intentions from past performances. I had, 
therefore, determined to drill myself in the art of com- 
position to the end that I might write a story of my life 
which would merit publication. I felt that such a book, 
once written, would do its own work, regardless of my 
subsequent fortunes. Other books had spoken even 
from the grave; why should not my book so speak—if 
necessary? 
With this thought in mind I began not only to read 
and write, but to test my impulse in order that I might 
discover if it were a part of my very being, an abnormal 
impulse, or a mere whim. I reasoned that to compare 
my own feelings toward literature, and my emotions 
experienced in the heat of composition, with the 
recorded feelings of successful men of letters, would give 
me a clue to the truth on this question. At this 
time I read several books that could have served as a 
basis for my deductions, but only one of them did I 
have time to analyze and note in my diary. That one 
was, “Wit and Wisdom of the Earl of Beaconsfield.,, 
The following passages from the pen of Disraeli I trans- 
cribed in my diary with occasional comment. 
“Remember who you are, and also that it is your duty 
to excel. Providence has given you a great lot. Think 
ever that you are born to perform great duties.” This 
I interpreted in much the same spirit that I had inter- 
preted the 45 th Psalm on an earlier occasion. 
“It was that noble ambition, the highest and best, 
that must be born in the heart, and organized in the 
brain, which will not let a man be content unless his 230 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
intellectual power is recognized by his race, and desires 
that it should contribute to their welfare.” 
“Authors—the creators of opinion.” 
“What appear to be calamities are often the sources 
of fortune.” 
“Change is inevitable in a progressive country. 
Change is constant.” (“Then why,” was my recorded 
comment, “cannot the changes I propose to bring 
about, be brought about?”) 
“The author is, as we must ever remember, of peculiar 
organization. He is a being born with a predisposition 
which with him is irresistible, the bent of which he cannot 
in any way avoid, whether it directs him to the abstruse 
researches of erudition or induces him to mount into the 
fervid and turbulent atmosphere of imagination.” 
“This,” I wrote (the day after arriving at the hos- 
pital) “is a fair diagnosis of my case as it stands 
to-day, assuming, of course, that an author is one who 
loves to write, and can write with ease, even though 
what he says may have no literary value. My past 
proves that my organization is a peculiar one. I have 
for years (two and a half) had a desire to achieve 
success along literary lines. I believe that, feeling as 
I do to-day, nothing can prevent my writing. If I had 
to make a choice at once between a sure success in the 
business career ahead of me and doubtful success in the 
field of literature, I would willingly, yes confidently, 
choose the latter. I have read many a time about suc- 
cessful writers who learned how to write, and by dint 
of hard work ground out their ideas. If these men could A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
231 
succeed, why should not a man who is in danger of 
being ground up by an excess of ideas and imagination 
succeed, when he seems able to put those ideas into 
fairly intelligible English? He should and will succeed. ” 
Therefore, without delay, I began the course of experi- 
ment and practice which culminated within a few months 
in the first draft of my story. Wise enough to realize 
the advantages of a situation free from the annoying 
interruptions of the workaday world, I enjoyed a de- 
gree of liberty seldom experienced by those in possession 
of complete legal liberty and its attendant obligations. 
When I wished to read, write, talk, walk, sleep, or eat, 
I did the thing I wished. I went to the theatre when 
the spirit moved me to do so, accompanied, of course, 
by an attendant, who on such occasions played the role 
of chum. 
Friends called to see me and, at their suggestion or 
mine, invited me to dinner outside the walls of my 
“cloister.” At one of these dinners an incident occurred 
which throws a clear light on my condition at the 
time. The friend, whose willing prisoner I was, had 
invited a common friend to join the party. The latter 
had not heard of my recent commitment. At my 
suggestion, he who shared my secret had agreed not to 
refer to it unless I first broached the subject. There 
was nothing strange in the fact that we three should 
meet. Just such impromptu celebrations had before 
occurred among us. We dined, and, as friends will, 
indulged in that exchange of thoughts which bespeaks 
intimacy. During our talk, I so shaped the conversation 232 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
that the possibility of a recurrence of my mental illness 
was discussed. The uninformed friend derided the idea. 
“Then, if I were to tell you,” I remarked, “ that I am at 
this moment supposedly insane—at least not normal— 
and that when I leave you to-night I shall go direct to 
the very hospital where I was formerly confined, there 
to remain until the doctors pronounce me fit for freedom, 
what would you say? ” 
“I should say that you are a choice sort of liar,” he 
retorted. 
This genial insult I swallowed with gratification. It 
was, in truth, a timely and encouraging compliment, 
the force of which its author failed to appreciate until 
my host had corroborated my statements. 
If I could so favorably impress an intimate friend at a 
time when I was elated, it is not surprising that I should 
subsequently hold an interview with a comparative 
stranger—the cashier of a local bank—without betray- 
ing my state of mind. As business interviews go, this 
was in a class by itself. While my attendant stood 
guard at the door, I, an enrolled inmate of a hospital 
for the insane, entered the banking room and talked 
with a level-headed banker. And that interview was 
not without effect in subsequent negotiations which led 
to the closing of a contract amounting to one hundred 
and fifty thousand dollars. 
The very day I re-entered the hospital I stopped on 
the way at a local hotel and procured some of the 
hostelry’s stationery. By using this in the writing of 
personal and business letters I managed to conceal my A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
233 
condition and my whereabouts from all except near 
relatives and a few intimate friends who shared the 
secret. I quite enjoyed leading this legitimate double 
life. The situation appealed (not in vain) to my sense 
of humor. Many a smile did I indulge in when I 
closed a letter with such ambiguous phrases as the fol- 
lowing: “Matters of importance necessitate my remain- 
ing where I am for an indefinite period.” . . . “A 
situation has recently arisen which will delay my 
intended trip South. As soon as I have closed a certain 
contract (having in mind my contract to re-establish my 
sanity) I shall again take to the road.” To this day 
few friends or acquaintances know that I was in semi- 
exile during the month of January, 1905. My desire 
to suppress the fact was not due, as already intimated, 
to any sensitiveness regarding the subject of insanity. 
What afterwards justified my course was that on regain- 
ing my freedom I was able, without embarrassment, 
again to take up my work. Within a month of my vol- 
untary commitment, that is, in February, I started 
on a business trip through the Central West and South, 
where I remained until the following July. During those 
months I felt perfectly well, and have remained in excel- 
lent health ever since. 
This second interruption of my career came at a time 
and in a manner to furnish me with strong arguments 
wherewith to support my contention that so-called 
madmen are too often man-made, and that he who is 
potentially mad may keep a saving grip on his own 
reason if he be fortunate enough to receive that kindly 234 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
and intelligent treatment to which one on the brink of 
mental chaos is entitled. Though during this second 
period of elation I was never in a mood so reckless as 
that which obtained immediately after my recovery 
from depression in August, 1902,1 was at least so excitable 
that, had those in authority attempted to impose upon 
me, I should have thrown discretion to the winds. To 
them, indeed, I frankly reiterated a terse dictum which 
I had coined during my first period of elation. “Just 
press the button of Injustice,” I said, “and I’ll do the 
rest!” This I meant, for fear of punishment does not 
restrain a man in the dare-devil grip of elation. 
What fostered my self-control was a sense of gratitude. 
The doctors and attendants treated me as a gentleman. 
Therefore it was not difficult to prove myself one. My 
every whim was at least considered with a politeness 
which enabled me to accept a denial with a highly sane 
equanimity. Aside from mild tonics I took no other 
medicine than that most beneficial sort which inheres in 
kindness. The feeling that, though a prisoner, I could 
still command obligations from others led me to recog- 
nize mv own reciprocal obligations, and wras a constant 
source of delight. The doctors, by proving their title 
to that confidence which I tentatively gave them upon 
re-entering the institution, had no difficulty in convinc- 
ing me that a temporary curtailment of some privileges 
was for my own good. They all evinced a consistent 
desire to trust me. In return I trusted them. XXXI 
On leaving the hospital and resuming my travels, I 
felt sure that any one of several magazines or newspapers 
would willingly have had me conduct my campaign 
under its nervously commercial auspices; but a flash-in- 
the-pan method did not appeal to me. Those noxious 
growths, Incompetence, Abuse, and Injustice, had not 
only to be cut down, but rooted out. Therefore, I clung 
to my determination to write a book—an instrument of 
attack which, if it cuts and sears at all, does so as long 
as the need exists. Inasmuch as I knew that I still had 
to learn how to write, I approached my task with delib- 
eration. I planned to do two things: first, to crystallize 
my thoughts by discussion—telling the story of my life 
whenever in my travels I should meet any person who 
inspired my confidence; second, while the subject 
matter of my book was shaping itself in my mind, to 
drill myself by carrying on a letter-writing campaign. 
Both these things I did—as certain indulgent friends 
who bore the brunt of my spoken and written discourse 
can certify. I feared the less to be dubbed a bore, and 
I hesitated the less, perhaps, to impose upon good-nature, 
because of my firm conviction that one in a position to 
help the many was himself entitled to the help of the 
few. 
I wrote scores of letters of great length. I cared little 
235 236 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
if some of my friends should conclude that I had been 
born a century too late; for, without them as confidants, 
I must write with no more inspiring object in view than 
the wastebasket. Indeed, I found it difficult to com- 
pose without keeping before me the image of a friend. 
Having stipulated that every letter should be returned 
upon demand, I wrote without reserve—my imagination 
had free rein. I wrote as I thought, and I thought as I 
pleased. The result was that within six months I 
found myself writing with a facility which hitherto had 
obtained only during elation. At first I was suspicious 
of this new-found and apparently permanent ease of 
expression—so suspicious that I set about diagnos- 
ing my symptoms. My self-examination convinced 
me that I was, in fact, quite normal. I had no irre- 
sistible desire to write, nor was there any suggestion of 
that exalted, or (technically speaking) euphoric, light- 
heartedness which characterizes elation. Further, after a 
prolonged period of composition, I experienced a com- 
forting sense of exhaustion which I had not known while 
elated. I therefore concluded—and rightly—that my 
unwonted facility was the product of practice. At last I 
found myself able to conceive an idea and immediately 
transfer it to paper effectively. 
In July, 1905, I came to the conclusion that the time 
for beginning my book was at hand. Nevertheless, I 
found it difficult to set a definite date. About this time 
I so arranged my itinerary that I was able to enjoy two 
summer—though stormy—nights and a day at the 
Summit House on Mount Washington. What better, A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
237 
thought I, than to begin my book on a plane so high as 
to be appropriate to this noble summit? I therefore began 
to compose a dedication. “To Humanity” was as far 
as I got. There the Muse forsook me. 
But, returning to earth and going about my business, 
I soon again found myself in the midst of inspiring 
natural surroundings—the Berkshire Hills. At this 
juncture Man came to the assistance of Nature, and 
perhaps with an unconsciousness equal to her own. It 
was a chance remark made by an eminent man that 
aroused my subconscious literary personality to irresist- 
ible action. I had long wished to discuss my project 
with a man of great reputation, and if the reputation were 
international, so much the better. I desired the unbiased 
opinion of a judicial mind. Opportunely, I learned that 
the Hon. Joseph H. Choate was then at his summer 
residence at Stockbridge, Massachusetts. Mr. Choate 
had never heard of me and I had no letter of introduction. 
The exigencies of the occasion, however, demanded that I 
conjure one up, so I wrote my own letter of introduction 
and sent it: 
Red Lion Inn, 
Stockbridge, Mass. 
August 18, 1906. 
Hon. Joseph H. Choate, 
Stockbridge, Massachusetts. 
Dear Sir: 
Though I might present myself at your door, armed with one of 
society’s unfair skeleton-keys—a letter of introduction—I prefer 
to approach you as I now do: simply as a young man who honestly 
feels entitled to at least five minutes of your time, and as many 238 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
minutes more as you care to grant because of your interest in the 
subject to be discussed. 
I look to you at this time for your opinion as to the value of 
some ideas of mine, and the feasibility of certain schemes based 
on them. 
A few months ago I talked with President Hadley of Yale, and 
briefly outlined my plans. He admitted that many of them 
seemed feasible and would, if carried out, add much to the sum- 
total of human happiness. His only criticism was that they were 
“ too comprehensive.” 
Not until I have staggered an imagination of the highest type 
will I admit that I am trying to do too much. Should you refuse 
to see me, believe me when I tell you that you will still be, as you 
are at this moment, the unconscious possessor of my sincere respect. 
Business engagements necessitate my leaving here early on 
Monday next. Should you care to communicate with me, word 
sent in care of this hotel will reach me promptly. 
Yours very truly, 
Clifford W. Beers. 
Within an hour I had received a reply, in which Mr. 
Choate said that he would see me at his home at ten 
o’clock the next morning. 
At the appointed time, the door, whose lock I had 
picked with a pen, opened before me and I was ushered 
into the presence of Mr. Choate. He was graciousness 
itself—but pointed significantly at a heap of unan- 
swered letters lying before him. I took the hint and 
within ten minutes briefly outlined my plans. After 
pronouncing my project a “commendable one,” Mr. 
Choate offered the suggestion that produced results. 
“If you will submit your ideas in writing,” he said, “I 
shall be glad to read your manuscript and assist you in A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
239 
any way I can. To consider fully your scheme would 
require several hours, and busy men cannot very well 
give you so much time. What they can do is to read 
your manuscript during their leisure moments.” 
Thus it was that Mr. Choate, by granting the inter- 
view, contributed to an earlier realization of my purposes. 
One week later I began the composition of this book. 
My action was unpremeditated, as my quitting Boston 
for less attractive Worcester proves. That very day, 
finding myself with a day and a half of leisure before me, 
I decided to tempt the Muse and compel myself to prove 
that my pen was, in truth, “ the tongue of a ready writer.” 
A stranger in the city, I went to a school of stenography 
and there secured the services of a young man who, 
though inexperienced in his art, was more skilled in 
catching thoughts as they took wing than I was at that 
time in the art of setting them free. Except in the 
writing of one or two conventional business letters, never 
before had I dictated to a stenographer. After I had 
startled him into an attentive mood by briefly outlining 
my past career and present purpose, I worked without 
any definite plan or brief, or reference to data. My 
narrative was therefore digressive and only roughly 
chronological. But it served to get my material in front 
of me for future shaping. At this task I hammered 
away three or four hours a day for a period of five 
weeks. 
It so happened that Mr. Choate arrived at the same 
hotel on the day I took up my abode there, so that some 
of the toil he had inspired went on in his proximity, if 240 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
not in his presence. I carefully kept out of his sight, 
however, lest he should think me a “crank” on the 
subject of reform, bent on persecuting his leisure. 
As the work progressed my facility increased. In fact, 
I soon called in an additional stenographer to help in the 
snaring of my thoughts. This excessive productivity 
caused me to pause and again diagnose my condition. 
I could not fail now to recognize in myself symptoms 
hardly distinguishable from those which had obtained 
eight months earlier when it had been deemed expedient 
temporarily to restrict my freedom. But I had grown 
wise in adversity. Rather than interrupt my manu- 
script short of completion I decided to avail myself of a 
vacation that was due, and remain outside my native 
State—this, so that well-meaning but perhaps over- 
zealous relatives might be spared unnecessary anxiety, 
and I myself be spared possible unwarranted restrictions. 
I was by no means certain as to the degree of mental 
excitement that would result from such continuous 
mental application; nor did I much care, so long as 
I accomplished my task. However, as I knew that 
“possession is nine points of the law, ” I decided to main- 
tain my advantage by remaining in my literary fortress. 
And my resolve was further strengthened by certain 
cherished sentiments expressed by John Stuart Mill in 
his essay “On Liberty,” which I had read and reread 
with an interest born of experience. 
At last the first draft of the greater part of my story 
was completed. After a timely remittance (for, in 
strict accordance with the traditions of the craft, I had A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
241 
exhausted my financial resources) I started for home 
with a sigh of relief. For months I had been under the 
burden of a conscious obligation. My memory, stored 
with information which, if rightly used, could, I believed, 
brighten and even save unhappy lives, was to me as a 
basket of eggs which it was my duty to balance on a 
head whose poise was supposed to be none too certain. 
One by one, during the preceding five weeks, I had gently 
lifted my thoughts from their resting-place, until a large 
part of my burden had been so shifted as to admit of 
its being imposed upon the public conscience. 
After I had lived over again the trials and the tortures 
of my unhappiest years—which was of course necessary in 
ploughing and harrowing a memory happily retentive— 
the completion of this first draft left me exhausted. But 
after a trip to New York, whither I went to convince 
my employers that I should be granted a further leave- 
of-absence, I resumed work. The ground for this added 
favor was that my manuscript was too crude to submit to 
any but intimate acquaintances. Knowing, perhaps, 
that a business man with a literary bee buzzing in his 
ear is, for the time, no business man at all, my employers 
readily agreed that I should do as I pleased during the 
month of October. They also believed me entitled to 
the favor, recognizing the force of my belief that I had a 
high obligation to discharge. 
It was under the family rooftree that I now set up my 
literary shop. Nine months earlier an unwonted interest 
in literature and reform had sent me to an institution. 
That I should now in my own home be able to work out 242 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
my destiny without unduly disturbing the peace of mind 
of relatives was a considerable satisfaction. In the very 
room where, during June, 1900, my reason had set out 
for an unknown goal, I redictated my account of that 
reason’s experiences. 
My leave-of-absence ended, I resumed my travels 
eagerly; for I wished to cool my brain by daily contact 
with the more prosaic minds of men of business. I went 
South. For a time I banished all thoughts of my book 
and project. But after some months of this change of 
occupation, which I thoroughly enjoyed, I found leisure 
in the course of wide travels to take up the work of 
elaboration and revision. A presentable draft of my 
story being finally prepared, I began to submit it to 
all sorts and conditions of minds (in accordance with 
Mill’s dictum that only in that way can the truth be 
obtained). In my quest for criticism and advice, I 
fortunately decided to submit my manuscript to Pro- 
fessor William James of Harvard University, the most 
eminent of American psychologists and a masterful 
writer, who was then living. He expressed interest in 
my project; put my manuscript with others on his 
desk — but was somewhat reserved when it came 
to promising to read my story. He said it might be 
months before he could find time to do so. Within a 
fortnight, however, I received from him a character- 
istic letter. To me it came as a rescuing sun, after a 
period of groping about for an authoritative opinion 
that should put scoffers to flight. The letter read as 
follows: A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
243 
95 Irving St., Cambridge, Mass. 
July i, 1906. 
Dear Mr. Beers: 
Having at last “got round” to your MS., I have read it with 
very great interest and admiration for both its style and its temper. 
I hope you will finish it and publish it. It is the best written out 
“case” that I have seen; and you no doubt have put your finger on 
the weak spots of our treatment of the insane, and suggested the 
right line of remedy. I have long thought that if I were a million- 
aire, with money to leave for public purposes, I should endow 
“Insanity” exclusively. 
You were doubtless a pretty intolerable character when the ma- 
niacal condition came on and you were bossing the universe. Not 
only ordinary “tact,” but a genius for diplomacy must have been 
needed for avoiding rows with you; but you certainly were wrongly 
treated nevertheless; and the spiteful Assistant M.D. at 
deserves to have his name published. Your report is full of in- 
structiveness for doctors and attendants alike. 
The most striking thing in it to my mind is the sudden conver- 
sion of you from a delusional subject to a maniacal one—how the 
whole delusional system disintegrated the moment one pin was 
drawn out by your proving your brother to be genuine. I never 
heard of so rapid a change in a mental system. 
You speak of rewriting. Don’t you do it. You can hardly 
improve your book. I shall keep the MS. a week longer as I wish 
to impart it to a friend. 
Sincerely yours, 
Wm. James. 
Though Mr. James paid me the compliment of ad- 
vising me not to rewrite my original manuscript, I did 
revise it quite thoroughly before publication. When 
my book was about to go to press for the first time and 
since its reception by the public was problematical, 244 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
I asked permission to publish the letter already quoted. 
In reply, Mr. James sent the following letter, also for 
publication. 
95 Irving St., Cambridge, Mass. 
November io, 1907. 
Dear Mr. Beers: 
You are welcome to use the letter I wrote to you (on July 1, 
1906) after reading the first part of your MS. in any way your 
judgment prompts, whether as preface, advertisement, or any- 
thing else. Reading the rest of it only heightens its importance 
in my eyes. In style, in temper, in good taste, it is irreproach- 
able. As for contents, it is fit to remain in literature as a classic 
account “from within” of an insane person’s psychology. 
The book ought to go far toward helping along that terribly 
needed reform, the amelioration of the lot of the insane of our 
country, for the Auxiliary Society which you propose is feasible 
(as numerous examples in other fields show), and ought to work 
important effects on the whole situation. 
You have handled a difficult theme with great skill, and pro- 
duced a narrative of absorbing interest to scientist as well as lay- 
man. It reads like fiction, but it is not fiction; and this I state 
emphatically, knowing how prone the uninitiated are to doubt 
the truthfulness of descriptions of abnormal mental processes. 
With best wishes for the success of the book and the plan, both 
of which, I hope, will prove epoch-making, I remain, 
Sincerely yours, 
Wm. James. 
Several times in my narrative, I have said that the 
seemingly unkind fate that robbed me of several 
probably happy and healthful years had hidden 
within it compensations which have offset the suffer- 
ings and the loss of those years. Not the least of the 
compensations has been the many letters sent to me by A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
245 
eminent men and women, who, having achieved results 
in their own work, are ever responsive to the efforts 
of anyone trying to reach a difficult objective. Of 
all the encouraging opinions I have ever received, 
one has its own niche in my memory. It came from 
William James a few months before his death, and will 
ever be an inspiration to me. Let my excuse for 
revealing so complimentary a letter be that it justifies 
the hopes and aspirations expressed in the course of 
my narrative, and shows them to be well on the way to 
accomplishment. 
95 Irving Street, Cambridge, 
January 17, 1910. 
Dear Beers: 
Your exegesis of my farewell in my last note to you was errone- 
ous, but I am glad it occurred, because it brought me the extreme 
gratification of your letter of yesterday. 
You are the most responsive and recognizant of human beings, 
my dear Beers, and it “ sets me up immensely ” to be treated 
by a practical man on practical grounds as you treat me. I 
inhabit such a realm of abstractions that I only get credit for what 
I do in that spectral empire; but you are not only a moral idealist 
and philanthropic enthusiast (and good fellow!), but a tip-top 
man of business in addition; and to have actually done anything 
that the like of you can regard as having helped him is an unwonted 
ground with me for self-gratulation. I think that your tenacity of 
purpose, foresight, tact, temper, discretion and patience, are 
beyond all praise, and I esteem it an honor to have been in any 
degree associated with you. Your name will loom big hereafter, 
for your movement must prosper, but mine will not survive unless 
some other kind of effort of mine saves it. 
I am exceedingly glad of what you say of the Connecticut 
Society. May it prosper abundantly! 246 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
I thank you for your affectionate words which I return with 
interest and remain, for I trust many years of this life, 
Yours faithfully, 
Wm. James. 
At this point, rather than in the dusty corners of the 
usual preface, I wish to express my obligation to Herbert 
Wescott Fisher, whom I knew at school. It was he who 
led me to see my need of technical training, neglected in 
earlier years. To be exact, however, I must confess 
that I read rather than studied rhetoric. Close appli- 
cation to its rules served only to discourage me, so I 
but lazily skimmed the pages of the works which he 
recommended. But my friend did more than direct 
me to sources. He proved to be the kindly mean 
between the two extremes of stranger and intimate. 
I was a prophet not without honor in his eyes. Upon 
an embarrassing wealth of material he brought to bear 
his practical knowledge of the workmanship of writing; 
and my drafting of the later parts and subsequent 
revisions has been so improved by the practice received 
under his scrupulous direction that he has had little 
fault to find with them. My debt to him is almost 
beyond repayment. 
Nothing would please me more than to express specifi- 
cally my indebtedness to many others who have assisted 
me in the preparation of my work. But, aside from call- 
ing attention to the fact that physicians connected with 
the State Hospital and with the private institution 
referred to—the one not run for profit—exhibited rare 
magnanimity (even going so far as to write letters which A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
247 
helped me in my work), and, further, acknowledging 
anonymously (the list is too long for explicit mention) 
the invaluable advice given me by psychiatrists who have 
enabled me to make my work authoritative, I must be 
content to indite an all-embracing acknowledgment. 
Therefore, and with distinct pleasure, I wish to say 
that the active encouragement of casual, but trusted 
acquaintances, the inspiring indifference of unconvinced 
intimates, and the kindly scepticism of indulgent rela- 
tives, who, perforce, could do naught but obey an immu- 
table law of blood-related minds—all these influences 
have conspired to render more sure the accomplishment of 
my heart’s desire. XXXII 
“My heart’s desire” is a true phrase. Since 1900, 
when my own breakdown occurred, not fewer than one 
million men and women in the United States alone have 
for like causes had to seek treatment in institutions, 
thousands of others have been treated outside of 
institutions, while other thousands have received no 
treatment at all. Yet, to use the words of one of our 
most conservative and best informed psychiatrists, 
“No less than half of the enormous toll which mental 
disease takes from the youth of this country can be 
prevented by the application, largely in childhood, 
of information and practical resources now available.” 
Elsewhere is an account of how my plan broad- 
ened from reform to cure, from cure to prevention, 
—how far, with the co-operation of some of this coun- 
try’s ablest specialists and most generous philanthropists, 
it has been realized, nationally and internationally, 
through the new form of social mechanism known as 
societies, committees, leagues or associations for mental 
hygiene. 
More fundamental, however, than any technical 
reform, cure, or prevention—indeed, a condition prece- 
dent to all these—is a changed spiritual attitude toward 
the insane. They are still human: they love and hate, 
248 A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
249 
and have a sense of humor. The worst are usually 
responsive to kindness. In not a few cases their grati- 
tude is livelier than that of normal men and women. 
Any person who has worked among the insane, and done 
his duty by them, can testify to cases in point; and even 
casual observers have noted the fact that the insane are 
oftentimes appreciative. Consider the experience of 
Thackeray, as related by himself in “Vanity Fair” 
(Chapter LVII). “I recollect,” he writes, “seeing, 
years ago, at the prison for idiots and madmen, at Bicetre, 
near Paris, a poor wretch bent down under the bondage 
of his imprisonment and his personal infirmity, to whom 
one of our party gave a halfpennyworth of snuff in a 
cornet or ‘ screw ’ of paper. The kindness was too much 
. . . He cried in an anguish of delight and gratitude; if 
anybody gave you and me a thousand a year, or saved 
our lives, we could not be so affected. ” 
A striking exhibition of fine feeling on the part of a 
patient was brought to my attention by an assistant 
physician whom I met while visiting a State Hospital in 
Massachusetts. It seems that the woman in question had, 
at her worst, caused an endless amount of annoyance by 
indulging in mischievous acts which seemed to verge on 
malice. At that time, therefore, no observer would have 
credited her with the exquisite sensibility she so signally 
displayed when she had become convalescent and was 
granted a parole which permitted her to walk at will 
about the hospital grounds. After one of these walks, 
taken in the early spring, she rushed up to my informant 
and, with childlike simplicity, told him of the thrill of 250 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
delight she had experienced in discovering the first flower 
of the year in full bloom—a dandelion, which, with char- 
acteristic audacity, had risked its life by braving the 
elements of an uncertain season. 
“Did you pick it?” asked the doctor. 
“I stooped to do so,” said the patient; “then I 
thought of the pleasure the sight of it had given me— 
so I left it, hoping that someone else would discover it 
and enjoy its beauty as I did. ” 
Thus it was that a woman, while still insane, uncon- 
sciously exhibited perhaps finer feeling than did Ruskin, 
Tennyson, and Patmore on an occasion the occurrence 
of which is vouched for by Mr. Julian Hawthorne. 
These three masters, out for a walk one chilly afternoon 
in late autumn, discovered a belated violet bravely 
putting forth from the shelter of a mossy stone. Not 
until these worthies had got down on all fours and done 
ceremonious homage to the flower did they resume their 
walk. Suddenly Ruskin halted and, planting his cane 
in the ground, exclaimed, “ I don’t believe, Alfred— 
Coventry, I don’t believe that there are in all England 
three men besides ourselves who, after finding a violet at 
this time of year, would have had forbearance and fine 
feeling enough to refrain from plucking it.” 
The reader may judge whether the unconscious dis- 
play of feeling by the obscure inmate of a hospital 
for the insane was not finer than the self-conscious 
raptures of these three men of world-wide reputation. 
Is it not, then, an atrocious anomaly that the treat- 
ment often meted out to insane persons is the very A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
251 
treatment which would deprive some sane persons of 
their reason? Miners and shepherds who penetrate the 
mountain fastnesses sometimes become mentally un- 
balanced as a result of prolonged loneliness. But 
they usually know enough to return to civilization when 
they find themselves beginning to be affected with 
hallucinations. Delay means death. Contact with 
sane people, if not too long postponed, means an almost 
immediate restoration to normality. This is an illu- 
minating fact. Inasmuch as patients cannot usually be 
set free to absorb, as it were, sanity in the community, 
it is the duty of those entrusted with their care to 
treat them with the utmost tenderness and con- 
sideration. 
‘‘After all,” said a psychiatrist who had devoted a 
long life to work among the insane, both as an assistant 
physician and later as superintendent at various private 
and public hospitals, “what the insane most need is a 
friend! ” 
These words, spoken to me, came with a certain 
startling freshness. And yet it was the sublime and 
healing power of this same love which received its most 
signal demonstration two thousand years ago at the 
hands of one who restored to reason and his home that 
man of Scripture “who had his dwelling among the 
tombs; and no man could bind him, no, not with chains: 
Because that he had been often bound with fetters and 
chains, and the chains had been plucked asunder by him, 
and the fetters broken in pieces; neither could any man 
tame him. And always, night and day, he was in the 252 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
mountains, and in the tombs, crying, and cutting him- 
self with stones. But when he saw Jesus afar off, he ran 
and worshipped him, And cried with a loud voice, and 
said, What have I to do with Thee, Jesus, Thou Son 
of the Most High God? I adjure Thee by God, that 
Thou torment me not. ” Having told the story of my least happy years 
and laid bare experiences which perhaps give a 
strange picture, I present supplementary material 
which tells, in part in autobiographical form, of 
happier years and of what has been accomplished 
by forces that evidently awaited the impulse of a 
story like mine to set them in motion. I am 
fortunate in being able to con'inue my work by 
serving as Secretary to The National Committee 
for Mental Hygiene, which, with the assistance 
of many representative men and women, I was 
instrumental in founding. 
253 The Mental Hygiene Movement 
I 
Origin and Growth 
My autobiography, “A Mind That Found Itself,” is 
a plea for mental sufferers and for work in prevention. 
But the account of what followed—the story of the 
National Committee for Mental Hygiene, of the State 
Societies in this country, of national committees or their 
equivalent in foreign countries and of the International 
Committee and projected World Congress of Mental 
Hygiene—remains to be told. This story might well 
be entitled “The Romance of Work.” For to me, at 
least, my “difficult enterprise”—to use the words of 
President Eliot—has been a romance, and not lacking 
in thrills and dramatic moments, as one obstacle after 
another has been surmounted. 
The story of the work was an integral part of the 
narrative in earlier editions of my autobiography. 
Reasons for now making virtually two books of what 
was formerly one are reflected in the following letter 
from Professor Wilbur Cross, Editor of The Yale Review 
and Dean of the Graduate School at Yale University. 
255 256 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
New Haven, Connecticut, 
September 12, 1921. 
Dear Mr. Beers: 
Your extraordinary book I have followed with profound 
interest through its various editions since you showed me 
a typewritten copy of a preliminary draft more than 
fifteen years ago. I was absorbed in the story you then 
told. You may remember that I thought you had the 
material, which was at that time not wholly in literary 
form, for an autobiography comparable to De Quincey’s 
“Confessions.” Through your efforts has since been 
organized The National Committee for Mental Hygiene, 
with affiliated State Societies; and agencies similar to 
the National Committee have been established in foreign 
countries,and an “International Committee,’ is in pro- 
cess of formation. 
After these accomplishments, it seems most fitting 
that you should now rearrange the contents of your book 
by giving the story of your experiences as one continuous 
narrative while reserving for an appendix all other 
matters. In the proofs of the revised, 5th Edition of 
your autobiography, I read without a break the won- 
derful tale you told me many years ago. You have now 
produced a strange and thrilling account of your experi- 
ences, in such form that the gain for literature is immense. 
In short, your book is destined to become a classic. 
Believe me, 
Yours most sincerely, 
Wilbur L. Cross. MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
257 
A leader in the field of psychiatry and mental hygiene, 
Dr. C. Macfie Campbell, Professor of Psychiatry in 
Harvard University, who did me the favor of examin- 
ing the proofs of my revised edition, sent me the 
following letter: 
Cambridge, Mass., 
September 20, 1921. 
Dear Mr. Beers: 
I have just read the page proofs of the fifth edition of 
“ A Mind That Found Itself,” with the same fascination 
with which I read the book on its first appearance. 
Every reader, lay or medical, cannot but be carried away 
by the rush of the narrative. The psychopathologist 
may here and there modify the values given by the au- 
thor and have personal interpretations to suggest, but he 
finds in the book both a story of absorbing interest and 
an important clinical document. I admire your courage 
and talent in having, like Mr. A. C. Benson in “Thy 
Rod and Thy Staff,” transmuted a distressing personal 
experience into a valuable literary product. What I 
admire still more is that, while Mr. Benson has produced 
an essay of great beauty, you have furnished us, not 
only with a literary ornament, but with a powerful 
weapon and instrument of social progress. 
It is a sharp weapon with which to smite the hydra- 
headed abuses connected with the treatment of insanity, 
abuses dependent on mediaeval thought, medical ignor- 
ance, social indifference, personal greed and insensitive- 
ness, political depravity, financial restrictions. Even 
more than as a weapon of offence is your book valuable 258 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
as a peaceful instrument of social improvement. I do 
not suppose that, when you were so cheerfully forging this 
trenchant weapon and thinking of reform, you foresaw 
how rapid would be the development of the movement 
represented by The National Committee for Mental 
Hygiene, of which you were the inspiration. This move- 
ment, which had its origin in a desire to correct abuses, 
has developed into a broad health movement, dealing 
with those complex functions which mean most to 
human life. 
The National Committee for Mental Hygiene has 
helped much in relation to the immediate practical prob- 
lems of mental disorder and defect; it has emphasized 
the important bearing of these topics on such great social 
problems as delinquency and dependency of all types; 
it has consistently aimed at bringing into education 
principles of prophylactic value, which promise to 
develop a more robust personality than the traditional 
education; it would introduce into the management of 
industrial and economic problems the consideration of 
factors involving the personality of the individual 
worker, which in the past have been strangely neglected. 
The field of mental hygiene is coextensive with the 
field of human endeavor; progress cannot be left alto- 
gether to the unorganized good-will of the well-meaning, 
but requires organization of forces and the clear formu- 
lation of problems and policies. 
I, therefore, consider that in following up the pub- 
ication of your book by the organization of The National 
Committee for Mental Hygiene, you have made a social MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
259 
contribution of very great value. Those who have 
vague ideas on the exact nature and scope of this impor- 
tant movement will find in “A Mind That Found Itself” 
a tale of intense human interest, and an admirable 
introduction to some of the practical problems of mental 
hygiene. 
Cordially yours, 
C. Macfie Campbell. 
Why I continue to write in an intimate way in this 
sequel to my first book is indicated in the following 
letter from Dr. Stephen P. Duggan, Director of The 
Institute of International Education. Having served 
for a number of years as a member of the Executive 
Committee of The National Committee for Mental 
Hygiene, he speaks from personal knowledge. 
New York City, 
September 7, 1916. 
Dear Mr. Beers: 
As the work done by you in connection with The 
National Committee for Mental Hygiene is comparable 
to that done for the insane during the last century by 
Dorothea Dix and by Pinel in the eighteenth century, 
you owe it to your readers to tell the story of the 
organizing of the first “societies for mental hygiene” 
and of what they have done to focus the attention of 
the public on the great problem of mental health. 
This I say advisedly, for even I, a member of the 
Executive Committee of the National Committee for 260 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
some time past, did not learn in detail, until recently, 
of your unique services during the formative period of 
work. 
I know of no better way for you to do this than 
by quoting some of the many letters sent to you by 
those who gave moral or financial support, or both, 
while you were organizing the National Committee 
and stimulating interest in the mental hygiene move- 
ment in general. These letters, which you kindly let me 
read when I asked for the intimate story of your pioneer 
days in mental hygiene work, not only held my attention, 
but left me with the feeling that everything I could 
do to further the work should be done. It seems to me 
that others privileged to read the opinions mentioned 
will be similarly affected, with benefit to the cause. 
Permit me to say in closing: Do not hesitate to publish 
the letters in which complimentary references to yourself 
appear. One cannot speak well of the work without 
thinking well of the man who had the moral courage, 
persistency, and ability to make this important work 
possible. 
Sincerely yours, 
Stephen P. Duggan. 
The first step toward organizing The National Com- 
mittee for Mental Hygiene involved the securing of a 
publisher for my book—no easy task for an unknown 
writer, with an unusual subject. To this end I sought 
both literary and psychological endorsement. I sur- 
prised the late Professor Lounsbury, in one of whose MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
261 
classes at Yale I had been a not-too-promising stu- 
dent, by appearing before him ten years later with the 
manuscript of a real story. The letter which he gave 
me and a direct introduction from Professor William 
James to Mr. Charles J. Mills helped me over this first 
obstacle. Professor Lounsbury’s letter read as follows: 
New Haven, 
March 24, 1907. 
Dear Mr. Beers: 
I have gone over with great care that portion of your 
manuscript which you let me have—amounting, as I 
understand, to about one-half of the whole—and can 
testify that to me at least the interest of the narrative 
far exceeds that of any novel which I have read in a long, 
long time. It strikes me indeed as being something 
besides a truthful, human document; it is a well-told 
document, which, one must say regretfully, truthful 
documents are too often unapt to be. I do not believe, 
in fact, that any intelligent person, whose attention 
has been called to the subject, will lay down the work 
willingly, after he is once well started in its perusal. 
To its interest I can testify for myself; to its value as an 
inside account of an insane person’s psychology, after 
the opinion given by such an authority as Professor 
James, nothing further can properly be said by any 
one. 
Sincerely yours, 
Thomas R. Lounsbury. 262 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
Professor James’s letter of introduction was a formal 
one. His initial help in advancing the mental hygiene 
movement is more fully stated in the following excerpt 
from “The Letters of William James,” edited by his 
son, Henry James, and published in 1920. One of 
the thrills referred to on a preceding page came to me 
when I discovered, upon opening the second volume of 
the “Letters,” the following paragraphs: 
“The next letter is addressed to an active promoter of 
reform in the treatment of the insane, the author of 
‘A Mind That Found Itself.’ The Connecticut Society 
for Mental Hygiene and The National Committee for 
Mental Hygiene have already performed so great a 
public service that anyone may now see that in 1907 
the time had come to employ such instrumentalities in 
improving the care of the insane. But when Mr. Beers, 
just out of an ‘asylum’ himself, appeared with the man- 
uscript of his own story in his hands, it was not so 
clear that these agencies were needed, nor yet evident 
to anyone that he was a person who could bring about 
their organization. 
“ James’s own opinion of the treatment of the insane 
is not in the least overstated in the following letter. 
He recognized the genuineness of Mr. Beers’s personal 
experience and its value for propaganda, and he imme- 
diately helped to get it published. From his first 
acquaintance with Mr. Beers, he gave time, counsel, 
and money to further the organization of The National 
Committee for Mental Hygiene; and he even departed, 
in its interest, from his fixed policy of ‘keeping out of MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
263 
Committees and Societies.’ He lived long enough to 
know that the movement had begun to gather mo- 
mentum; and he drew great satisfaction from the 
knowledge.” 
Cambridge, Apr. 21, 1907. 
Dear Mr. Beers: 
You ask for my opinion as to the advisability and 
feasibility of a National Society, such as you propose, 
for the improvement of conditions among the insane. 
I have never ceased to believe that such improvement 
is one of the most £crying needs’ of civilization; and 
the functions of such a society seem to me to be well 
drawn up by you. Your plea for its being founded 
before your book appears is well grounded, you being 
an author who naturally would like to cast seed upon 
ground already prepared for it to germinate practically 
without delay. 
I have to confess to being myself a very impractical 
man, with no experience whatever in the details, dif- 
ficulties, etc., of philanthropic or charity organization, 
so my opinion as to the feasibility of your plan is worth 
nothing, and is undecided. Of course the first considera- 
tion is to get your money, the second your Secretary 
and Trustees. All that / wish to bear witness to is the 
great need of a National Society such as you describe, 
or failing that, of a society somewhere that might 
serve as a model in other States. 
Nowhere is there massed together as much suffering 
as in the asylums. Nowhere is there so much sodden 
routine and fatalistic insensibility in those who have to 264 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
treat it. Nowhere is an ideal treatment more costly. 
The officials in charge grow resigned to the conditions 
under which they have to labor. They cannot plead 
their cause as an auxiliary organization can plead it for 
them. Public opinion is too glad to remain ignorant. 
As mediator between officials, patients and the public 
conscience, a society such as you sketch is absolutely 
required and the sooner it gets under way the better. 
Sincerely yours, 
William James. 
In securing the endorsement of persons who could 
speak with authority, it was not only desirable to be 
vouched for by Professor Lounsbury and by Professor 
James, who held commanding positions in their respective 
fields, but most important of all, perhaps, that I should 
secure the approval of some physician who had made a 
special study of mental diseases and had first-hand 
knowledge of the problem of State-care of the insane. 
I made a step toward securing that approval when I 
enlisted the interest of Dr. Stewart Paton, who had not 
served in the State-hospital field, but was a psychiatrist 
of note. Under date of May 30th, 1907, he wrote as 
follows: 
“It is needless to say that you have my best wishes 
for success in your undertaking. After reading the man- 
uscript you so kindly sent me, I feel sure intelligent peo- 
ple will listen to your appeal and take an active interest 
in this work. Surely you will be a public benefactor if 
you succeed in realizing your ideals.” MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
265 
Dr. Paton told me that Dr. Adolf Meyer, then Director 
of the Psychiatric Institute of the New York State 
Hospitals at Ward’s Island, New York City, who later 
became Director of the Phipps Psychiatric Clinic at the 
Johns Hopkins Hospital, Baltimore, was the one man of 
all others in his special field whose support should, if 
possible, be secured. Through the courtesy of Dr. Paton, 
I was able to submit to Dr. Meyer the page proof of my 
book and outline my plans. This proved to be a most 
fortunate occurrence, as Dr. Meyer for a long time had 
wished that some organized auxiliary movement for 
better care and treatment for the insane and for the 
prevention of mental disorders might be inaugurated in 
this country. He and I, therefore, at once began to 
collaborate. 
It is interesting to note that when Dr. Meyer and I first 
met in September, 1907, he was at a loss to find the word 
or words that would express not only the idea of ameliora- 
tion of conditions among the insane, but also the idea 
of prevention of mental disorders. A few days later, 
however, he informed me that “mental hygiene” was 
the term needed for the purpose in view. This was a 
happy choice—almost a stroke of genius in the devis- 
ing of descriptive titles. Not only did “mental hygiene” 
describe the work as originally planned; it will continue 
to describe it accurately regardless of its growth. 
It was Dr. Meyer who, because of his profound 
knowledge of the scientific, medical and social problems 
involved, did more than anyone else to place its initial 
work on a sound basis. After my manuscript and 266 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
plans had been carefully examined by him, he sent me 
the following letter, which helped secure the co-operation 
other psychiatrists and hospital officials whose support 
at that time was so essential to success: 
New York City, 
October 27, 1907. 
To Whom It May Concern: 
Since about a month ago, when Mr. C. W. Beers was 
introduced to me by Dr. Stewart Paton, I have had an 
unusual experience in finding in him a man not only 
without a chip on his shoulder, but one with a sound and 
worthy conviction that something must be done to meet 
one of the most difficult, but also lamentably neglected 
problems of sociological improvement. Unlike so many 
ex-patients to whose efforts we owe in many ways the 
preposterous forms of legislation concerning the insane 
and many prejudices about the hospitals, Mr. Beers has 
given us a description of his personal experiences, has 
pointed out his own impressions and suggestions for 
remedy and has asked for advice with an open mind, 
with such willingness to accept and use new conceptions 
of matters not broadly enough viewed by him before 
that it looks as if we had at last what we need: a man 
for a cause. The difficulties to be met are such as to be 
unsurmountable to anyone who has not the personal 
experience and instinctive foundation for what must 
equal a religious vow of devotion of his life to a task 
before which others have become opportunistic, if not 
indifferent. MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
267 
Mr. Beers plans to subordinate his activity to a body 
of men and women who shall be chosen by a temporary 
Board of Trustees of the cause. It will be a difficult task 
to find the not very common level-headed and well- 
informed persons in various parts of the country capable 
of organizing the public conscience of the people. 
Neglected by physicians and dreaded by the fiscal 
authorities, the facts are not available to-day, except in 
fragments, mixed up with innumerable extraneous con- 
siderations; the hospitals are closed corporations, the 
press injudicious in inquiry and reform, and those 
capable of judgment unable to get the facts. The 
crying needs persist in the meantime. Instead of a 
Federal land fund (the 12,225,000 acres bill and ideal of 
Dorothea Dix, which failed of adoption by Congress) 
we must have a permanent survey of the facts and 
efficient handling of what is not prevented. Informa- 
tion must be put into practical form for communication 
and teaching, and brought home where it will tell; in 
opportunities of work and education for physicians 
and co-operation between our educational forces and 
those who labor for physical hygiene and prophylaxis. 
Most of us are already under too many definite obli- 
gations to meet the call for devoted work for the main- 
tenance of an organization as well as can Mr. Beers. 
In my judgment, he deserves the assistance which will 
make it possible for others to join in the work which 
will be one of the greatest achievements of this country 
and of this century—less sensational than the breaking 268 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
of chains, but more far-reaching and also more exacting 
in labor. 
A Society for Mental Hygiene, with a capable and 
devoted and judicious agent of organization, will put an 
end to the work of makeshift and short-sighted oppor- 
tunism, and initiate work of prevention and of helping 
the existing hospitals to attain what they should attain, 
and further of adding those links which are needed to put 
an end to conditions almost unfit for publication. 
What officialism will never do alone must be helped 
along by an organized body of persons who have set 
their hearts on serious devotion to the cause. 
If Mr. Beers gets the means to pursue his aim, he will 
secure the body which will guarantee proper judgment in 
a cause which has been a mere foster-child in the field of 
charitable donations merely because it seemed too diffi- 
cult. Here is a man who is not afraid of the task. May 
he get the help to enable him to surround himself with 
the best wisdom of our Nation! 
Adolf Meyer. 
Having thus secured needed moral support, my next 
task was to find financial support. In this Mr. Anson 
Phelps Stokes, at that time Secretary of Yale University, 
was one of my most active and helpful advisers. During 
the summer of 1907, he placed my manuscript before 
Mr. Frederick T. Gates, who then (before the Rockefeller 
Foundation was established) had almost exclusive charge 
of Mr. Rockefeller’s philanthropies. Under date of 
October 30th, 1907, Mr. Gates wrote to me as follows: MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
269 
“ I am sending you herewith by express, at the request 
of Mr. Anson Phelps Stokes, the manuscript copy of 
your forthcoming work, which I have read with the 
deepest interest. I am very glad to learn from your 
recent letter to Mr. Stokes that you will publish soon. 
I have no doubt that your work will become a classic in 
its line, and if properly launched it will have a great and 
immediate popular success and produce a profound 
impression throughout the country.” 
Though the sending of my book to Mr. Gates at this 
time, and to others connected with Mr. Rockefeller’s 
philanthropies, had no immediate effect on the financial 
situation, the fact remains that the Rockefeller Founda- 
tion, established subsequently, later contributed liberally 
to The National Committee for Mental Hygiene when its 
plans for surveys and special studies had been more 
definitely formulated. 
As was to be expected, the first person I invited to 
become a member of the National Committee was 
William James. His acceptance follows: 
Cambridge, November 23, 1907. 
Dear Mr. Beers: 
I gladly consent to serve as an honorary trustee of your 
Society for Mental Hygiene. 
I understand that our duties are primarily to let our 
names serve as evidence for our belief in the utility of 
such an auxiliary organization as your book proposes; 
secondarily to appoint the working committee, secretary, A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
270 
etc., when the thing reaches its working stage; and, 
finally, to act as general court of appeal in questions of 
policy about which the eventual active trustees might 
be in doubt. 
I hope that most of the gentlemen whom you have 
thought of as possible trustees will feel as I do, that it is 
not only a duty, but a privilege to promote so humane a 
cause. 
Sincerely yours, 
Wm. James. 
As the work in view was to be, in part, an educa- 
tional campaign, I sought the support of some of the 
high officials of various universities. One of the first 
of these to accept membership was Professor Russell H. 
Chittenden, then the Director of the Sheffield Scientific 
School of Yale University, who wrote as follows, under 
date of December 5th, 1907: 
“ I am in receipt of your letter of December 4th, asking 
me to serve as one of the Honorary Trustees of the Society 
for Mental Hygiene, about to be established. Having 
read the manuscript of your forthcoming book, I have 
been much impressed by the story of your personal 
experiences, and I believe that much good can be accom- 
plished for humanity by such a society as is contem- 
plated. My knowledge of the underlying facts of your 
story, as related to me from time to time, at the date of 
their occurrence, by your brother, has given to me a 
realization of the truthfulness of the account of your 
personal experiences, and as a result I have been the MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
271 
more strongly impressed with the necessity for some 
movement tending to betterment of the conditions under 
which the insane are forced to live. A fuller under- 
standing of methods of treatment such as can be fostered 
by a Society of the kind contemplated will do much 
toward improving the conditions of this unfortunate 
class. I trust that you will succeed in the efforts you are 
making.” 
Miss Julia C. Lathrop, then of Hull House, Chicago, 
later Chief of the Children’s Bureau at Washington, 
wrote as follows, under date of January 2nd, 1908: 
u I have devoted my spare time yesterday and to-day 
to reading the proof of your book. The autobiography 
is a most touching and appealing document. I earnestly 
hope that its admirable literary form may secure for it 
the wide reading so desirable for your purpose. 
“ I have felt for some time that a national society for 
the study of insanity and its treatment, from the social 
as well as the merely medical standpoint, should be 
formed. I am glad to follow in the line you have indi- 
cated and to have my name appear as one of the hon- 
orary trustees. I have talked with Miss Addams and 
she has agreed to the use of her name and will so inform 
you soon by letter. 
“ I see many indications of a strong revival of interest 
in the care of the insane and I cannot but believe that 
we shall within a few years see them treated generally 
as sick persons.” 
Dr. August Hoch, at one time Clinical Director at 272 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
Bloomingdale Hospital and later Director of the Psychi- 
atric Institute of the New York State Hospitals, Ward’s 
Island, New York, through whose death a few years later 
psychiatry lost one of its ablest leaders, wrote as follows, 
under date of January 4th, 1908: 
“ Your letter reached me yesterday, and your book this 
morning. I have just spent several hours reading the 
latter, not only the parts to which you called my atten- 
tion especially, but others as well. What I have read is 
extremely interesting, not only psychologically, but in its 
broad bearing as well, which you so fully appreciate. 
There is no doubt that a society such as you propose 
could do much to stimulate progress in the care and 
treatment of the insane, as well as in the study and 
teaching of psychiatry in this country. In all these 
branches much is yet to be done. The time for your 
undertaking is ripe. 
“ I highly appreciate your kindness in asking me to be 
a trustee of the society and I gladly accept your offer, 
assuring you at the same time that I shall cheerfully do 
whatever lies in my power to assist in a cause in which I 
am naturally deeply interested. I wish you success in 
your undertaking.” 
A letter from Dr. William L. Russell, one of my earliest 
advisers, who for a number of years served as Medical 
Inspector of the New York State Hospital Commission, 
and later became Medical Director of Bloomingdale 
Hospital, read as follows, under date of January 16th, 
1908: MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
273 
“ I need scarcely tell you that I have been intensely 
interested by the proof sheets of your book. I have 
read every word, and much I would gladly read again 
as, indeed, I certainly shall as soon as the work is pub- 
lished. You are quite right in thinking that an aroused 
public sentiment is necessary to effect any great improve- 
ments in the care of the insane. Without this, even 
earnest and enlightened workers cannot either obtain 
sufficient funds or eliminate selfishness and inefficiency 
in applying them. I am inclined to think that condi- 
tions in this State are rather better than in most others. 
We see, however, many defects, and I most sincerely 
trust that your efforts will be rewarded with success/’ 
Early in January, 1908, largely upon the advice 
of Mr. George McAneny of New York, who had had 
wide experience as an organizer, it was decided to 
limit the membership of the society, make it a “ Com- 
mittee,” rather than an “Association” with a general 
membership, and call it “The National Committee for 
Mental Hygiene.” This was done, as the task in hand 
was a very special and, in many ways, delicate one. 
Furthermore, it was believed that the National Com- 
mittee could not at first appeal for general members 
without, perhaps, diverting support that would be 
needed by the affiliated State Societies for Mental 
Hygiene which it planned to create. 
Dr. Jacob Gould Schurman, for many years President 
of Cornell University, wrote as follows, under date of 
February 21st, 1908: 274 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
“ I have now read all the pages which you set apart for 
my consideration. Let me say that they have interested 
me immensely. It is a most extraordinary thing to have 
a book written under such circumstances. If there is 
anything like it in the history of literature, I am not 
acquainted with it. And then, apart from the circum- 
stance that we have in this volume an account of insanity 
by the sufferer himself, I have been greatly impressed 
with the author’s lucidity of style, poise of judgment, 
and variety of knowledge outside his own special field, 
as well as the reformatory zeal with which he addresses 
himself to the problem of the intelligent and humane 
treatment of the insane. 
“ I should predict for the book a great success, merely 
as a piece of literature. I earnestly hope it will go a long 
way towards accomplishing the reformatory object to 
which it is dedicated. And if you think I can be of help 
in that direction, I shall certainly be very glad to accede 
to your request to serve as an honorary member of The 
National Committee for Mental Hygiene as outlined in 
your letter. 
“ With congratulations on your remarkable achieve- 
ment, and with all good wishes for the success of the 
cause you have so much at heart, a cause with which I 
have had a little experience as Visitor of the New York 
State Charities Aid Association to the State Hospital at 
Willard, I remain, Very sincerely yours.” 
Dr. W. H. P. Faunce, President of Brown University, 
under date of February 24th, 1908, wrote as follows: MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
275 
“ Surely no one can read your manuscript without sym- 
pathy and without being fascinated by its clear presenta- 
tion of a remarkable experience. I shall be glad to serve 
as one of your honorary trustees and hope that much 
good will come from the organization of The National 
Committee for Mental Hygiene.” 
Having secured the support of more than thirty repre- 
sentative men and women who were willing to serve as 
original members, I now felt secure in placing my book 
before the public. It was published on March 16th, 1908, 
and immediately attracted wide and favorable attention 
—if the reviews which appeared in more than one hun- 
dred newspapers and periodicals in this country and 
Great Britain may be taken as a criterion. 
When “A Mind That Found Itself” was published, 
the projected National Committee for Mental Hygiene 
could have been founded at once. This, however, 
did not occur until February 19th, 1909, as it was 
thought best that a State Society should first be estab- 
lished by way of experiment on a smaller scale. There- 
fore the Connecticut Society for Mental Hygiene, which 
began its work on May 6th, 1908, was founded. While 
serving as its Executive Secretary and developing its 
work and financial resources, I continued to enlist sup- 
port for the National Committee. With bound copies 
of my book now available and a collection of favorable 
opinions in my possession, my task became easier. That 
is, it was easy to gain moral support. Securing funds 
for the work, however, was difficult. I therefore con- 276 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
tinued my efforts to secure not only acceptances of 
membership, but opinions likely to influence potential 
donors. 
That those who accepted membership in the National 
Committee became more interested in its plans the more 
they studied them, is indicated by Dr. Schurman’s 
second letter of March 27th, 1908, which follows: 
“ I want to thank you very cordially for your book. I 
have now read it through. It is a wonderful volume— 
whether one considers its contents or the circumstances of 
its origin—and I find it intensely interesting. I found 
myself constantly admiring your literary gifts. And 
it is curious to reflect that they might never have come to 
a birth but for your domicile in a hospital for the insane. 
It is the last place in the world one would have selected 
as a school of liberal culture, yet in your case it meant a 
good deal more for your literary development than a 
college does for the generality of the students. 
“ I need not say that the recital of the sufferings you 
endured deeply stirred my sympathy and at the same 
time aroused my indignation. It is clear there is need 
for reform. And I suppose no other man is so competent 
to undertake it as yourself. 
“1 take the liberty also of making a suggestion to your- 
self. You must not expect too sudden or too great a 
reform. Even good causes make their way slowly in 
this rough workaday world. You conceived your voca- 
tion as a reformer while you were a patient in the hospital. 
And as I read your book, I sometimes thought you enter- 
tained too extravagant hopes in regard to actual achieve- MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
277 
ment. And so I feel like saying to you that you must 
not be disappointed if you find things moving slowly and 
gradually. 
“You will not infer from what I have said that my own 
interest has been lessened by reading your book. On the 
contrary, it has been greatly increased, and I should be 
glad to aid so good a cause in any way in my power. 
“ With kindest regards and with congratulations on 
your production of so wonderful a book.” 
In acknowledging the receipt of a complimentary copy 
of my book, sent apparently at the psychological moment, 
the late Mr. Jacob A. Riis, under date of April 3rd, 1908, 
said: 
“ A woman, to whom a year or two ago I gave a lift that 
helped open the bars of the worse than prison in which she 
was confined without just cause, came into my office, 
the other day, with tears in her eyes and asked me to 
read your book, which she hailed as the promise of 
freedom for, she said, ‘countless hundreds’ of men and 
women as unfortunate as she was. And now to-day I 
found it upon my desk. I shall read it—I know already 
from the reviews what to expect—and I hope my poor 
friend is right. Meanwhile let me thank you very 
heartily for your gift. The world is so busy that it passes 
such suffering by unheeding because it ‘has not time’ 
to heed. If your book shall make it stop and pause, you 
have certainly rendered a service to your day that ought 
to be a monument indeed. We will all help” 
On April 10th, 1908, Mr. Riis wrote again, as follows: 278 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
“ I have nearly finished your book and I am quite 
ready to help, for I see it is needed. My friend was right, 
and in losing your reason you found, I hope, ours for 
us in this pitiful matter.” 
Dr. M. Allen Starr, formerly Professor of Neurology 
at Columbia University, under date of April nth, 1908, 
said: 
“ I have read with much interest your book which you 
so kindly sent me. It is a wonderful record, interesting 
from the psychological analysis of your mental condition, 
and most important as a protest against the bad nursing 
and inefficient medical direction prevalent in our 
asylums, especially the private ones. I have had only 
too many instances in my own experience which sub- 
stantiate all the arraignment you make. 
“ You have my sincere sympathy for your sufferings— 
and if any definite steps are taken in the line of reform 
in which I can help, you will have my hearty support.” 
In seeking advice as to the best way to organize The 
National Committee for Mental Hygiene, I naturally 
consulted those in charge of the work of similar organiza- 
tions. Dr. Livingston Farrand, then the Executive 
Secretary of The National Tuberculosis Association, now 
President of Cornell University, wrote as follows, under 
date of April 25th, 1908: 
“ I read your book last night. The best proof of my 
interest is that I finished it before going to bed. It is 
one of the most striking and convincing documents that 
I have ever seen. MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
279 
“ I have long felt that one of the most important phases 
of the present great movement in the direction of prevent- 
ive medicine, and at the same time one of the most 
neglected, is that of mental hygiene. There is no doubt 
at all that very great good could be accomplished by an 
educational campaign dealing with the causes, prevention 
and adequate treatment of abnormal mental conditions. 
I do not believe that there could be a better means of 
engaging public interest than by making an attack upon 
the present shocking abuses in the treatment of the insane 
the peg upon which to hang the broad educational move- 
ment, which, after all, is the object of chief importance. 
After thinking over your propositions with some care, I 
see no reason why a national movement such as that you 
plan should not be entirely successful, and I am writing 
not only to thank you for the stimulus which your book 
has given me personally, but to assure you of hearty 
co-operation wherever possible in assisting such a move- 
ment. You have my very best wishes and renewed 
assurances of my co-operation.” 
On many occasions Dr. William H. Welch, the ac- 
knowledged leader of the medical profession in this 
country, Dean of the School of Hygiene at Johns 
Hopkins University, rendered great assistance. Under 
date of May 24th, 1908, he wrote as follows: 
“ I am glad to see that your efforts are beginning to be 
fruitful and that State and National Societies are to be 
formed to carry on the work. 
“ Your book, which you kindly sent me, I read with 280 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
great interest, and do not see how it can fail to be of 
great service. So far as I have observed, its reception 
both in the medical profession and by the general public 
has been sympathetic and encouraging. My copy has 
been loaned to several friends upon whom it has made a 
strong impression. 
“ I hope that you will continue to lay special emphasis 
upon the need of psychopathic hospitals and wards in 
connection with general hospitals, and especially with the 
university medical school. The greatest need is for 
improved care and treatment of early and curable cases 
of mental derangement and for border-land cases which 
can be prevented from passing into the insane state; 
also for better instruction of students and physicians 
in psychiatry. These needs will be met by psychiatric 
institutions in connection with general hospitals and 
university clinics better than by the familiar type of 
hospitals for the insane existing in this country.” 
That the endorsements I had received were quite 
spontaneous could hardly be doubted after reading one 
that was not meant for my eyes, but which I was privi- 
leged to see and am now permitted to publish. It was 
sent under date of June 8th, 1908, by Mr. Wickliffe Rose, 
Director-General of The International Health Board 
of The Rockefeller Foundation, to the Rev. G. S. Dick- 
erman, D.D., of New Haven, who later forwarded it to 
me. To quote: 
“ I read Mr. Beers’s book with the most intense in- MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
281 
terest. To me it is a remarkable work. It impresses me 
as a bit of genuine literature, remarkably well written and 
revealing what is to me a new field of human experience. 
It is convincing to a degree and left me with the feeling 
that I should like to do something to remedy the condi- 
tions which he so vividly portrays. 
“ I am handing the book to friends, and hope to keep it 
traveling on its mission. I wish to thank you for calling 
my attention to it.” 
On July ioth, 1908, Dr. William H. Welch sent me a 
letter telling me that my book had played a part in the 
negotiations with Mr. Henry Phipps that led to the estab- 
lishing of a Psychiatric Clinic at the Johns Hopkins 
Hospital. Thus I had the satisfaction of knowing that 
another of my objects, as presented in the first edi- 
tion of my autobiography, was being achieved. Dr. 
Welch wrote in part as follows: 
“ I knew that none would rejoice more than you at the 
good news, and you may look upon the benefaction as 
one of the fruits of your efforts. Mr. Phipps became 
interested in the subject as the result of some remarks 
which I made at the time of a visit in May to see the 
workings of the dispensary for tuberculous patients which 
he has established in connection with the Johns Hopkins 
Hospital. These remarks were incidental and without 
thought of making an appeal to him. Shortly after his 
return to New York I received a letter saying that he was 
interested in what I had said about the need of improved 282 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
care of the insane and desired further information. I 
then wrote him rather fully about the need of an insti- 
tution such as those known in Germany as psychiatric 
clinics, and it will interest you to know that among 
other pamphlets, etc., I sent him my copy of your book, 
in which I marked many passages. His son, Mr. John S. 
Phipps, who was in his father’s councils in this matter, 
also procured a copy of your book. 
“ When I told Mr. Phipps later how pleased you would 
be with his gift, especially as I could say that your book 
had influenced him, he himself expressed his pleasure at 
this. I told the reporters also about this feature, and 
mention of you and the book was made in the Balti- 
more papers, although not with as much detail as should 
have been the case, if they had reported my remarks 
more fully and accurately. 
“ I want you to know these facts, as they must be a 
great encouragement and gratification to you. The 
Phipps Psychiatric Clinic will, I think, be in a measure 
a fulfillment of your dreams.” 
As Mr. Phipps had shown so convincingly that he was 
interested in improving the treatment of mental diseases, 
he was invited to become a member of The National 
Committee for Mental Hygiene, which invitation he 
readily accepted. Here at last was a man who, when he 
understood the needs of the organization, would, I 
believed, give financial as well as moral support. 
Of moral support, the National Committee had a 
great deal; of financial support it had very little. MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
283 
Indeed, its only financial support was that which I 
gave it indirectly through loans made to me, per- 
sonally. Though I could ill afford to assume these 
obligations, the fact that the National Committee was 
not yet organized and had no funds for preliminary 
expenses made it necessary for me to do so. There 
was one loan, however, made to me by Professor 
William James which he converted into a contribution 
toward the initial expenses of organization. I had 
written Mr. James for advice regarding the advisability 
of asking Mr. Phipps to “take over” the debts I had 
incurred in organizing the National Committee and to 
trust me or the organization to repay him later. In 
giving my reasons for wishing to appeal to Mr. Phipps 
for assistance, I had unwittingly appealed to Mr. James, 
who, until now, had not been told of my debts. As I 
was innocent of any intention of securing help from Mr. 
James—one does not think of a university professor as 
being in a position to play the role of philanthropist—I 
found it possible to accept his gift, so generously offered 
in the following letter: 
London, August 16, 1908. 
Dear Beers: 
You seem to be doing splendidly, and I should be a 
caitiff not to chip in to the taxes which you have son obly 
piled upon your head. So I enclose to you an order on 
Lee Higginson & Co. of Boston for $1,000 to which extent 
I am only too willing to bleed for the cause. So you 
need not think of paying me till you become a million- 
aire yourself! I wish I could contribute more to relieve 284 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
you of your indebtedness. I can easily contribute this. 
In October I shall be home and glad to perform whatever 
duties my place as committeeman of the National 
Society may call for.” 
In a subsequent letter, Mr. James said he thought it 
proper for me to submit a statement of the organizing 
expenses to Mr. Phipps, but I finally decided not to do 
so, fearing I might in some way diminish the chance of 
securing from him, later, substantial support for the 
active work of the National Committee. 
Though I usually wrote directly to those whose interest 
in the work I desired to enlist, on occasion I chose to 
present my request indirectly. I used that method of 
approach when I invited His Eminence, the late Car- 
dinal Gibbons, to serve as a member of the National 
Committee, for I knew that Dr. Welch was willing 
to support my request. The following letters explain 
themselves: 
807 St. Paul Street, Baltimore, 
November 27, 1908. 
To His Eminence, James, Cardinal Gibbons, 
Dear Cardinal Gibbons: 
I am writing this line in the hope that you may 
become sufficiently interested in Mr. Clifford W. Beers 
and his remarkable book to be willing to encourage the 
national movement in behalf of improved care and 
treatment of the insane, and of better mental hygiene in 
general. 
Mr. Beers’s book, “A Mind That Found Itself,”' has MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
285 
made a profound impression upon the medical profession 
as well as upon the general public. 
You will observe that Mr. Beers has secured the sup- 
port of eminent men in the movement which he has ini- 
tiated. I feel confident that you would do a great 
service toward better care of the mentally afflicted, if you 
should be willing to lend your name in support of the 
national society to effect this purpose. 
With the highest respect, I am 
Faithfully yours, 
William H. Welch. 
Archdiocese of Maryland 
Chancery Office 
ao8 North Charles Street, 
November 18, 1909. 
My Dear Mr. Beers: 
Some months ago your work, “A Mind That Found 
Itself,” fell into my hands. I read it with profound 
interest. To me it is a wonderful book. I scarcely 
remember ever having read anything which stirred me 
so deeply, or left upon my memory stronger or more 
vivid impressions. Its revelations of the sufferings and 
the tortures which the mentally afflicted have been 
doomed to undergo must touch even the hardest nature, 
and arouse compassion in every breast. Its purpose 
therefore is a noble one, and I have not the slightest 
hesitation in accepting your invitation to enroll my name 
among the members of The National Committee for 
Mental Hygiene, which is at present being organized. 286 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
Indeed this movement to mitigate the sufferings and 
agonies of this class of unfortunates commands my high- 
est admiration and merits my heartiest support. 
With sentiments of great esteem, I am 
Yours very sincerely, 
James, Card. Gibbons. 
As the pioneer State Society for Mental Hygiene 
(organized by me in Connecticut in May, 1908), had 
proved successful, plans for completing the organization 
of the National Committee were now decided upon. The 
formal founding occurred at a meeting held in New York 
City on February 19th, 1909. At this meeting, plans for 
work which had been formulated with great care during 
the preceding year and a half were adopted. To formu- 
late these plans had not been an easy task, as there was 
no society in existence whose plan of work was sufficiently 
comprehensive to serve as a model for the work of the 
National Committee, nor, indeed, of the pioneer State 
Society of Connecticut, whose plans, by the way, were 
also made by the group that organized the National 
Committee. Work previously done, however, in behalf 
of the insane in New York by the State Charities Aid 
Association had made it easier to formulate part of the 
plans of the National Committee, namely, those features 
relating to State care and to after-care of the insane, in 
both of which fields the New York State Charities Aid 
Association had done the pioneer work so far as this 
country is concerned. 
Instead of presenting in detail the original “plan of MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
287 
work” of The National Committee for Mental Hygiene, I 
shall quote from an address delivered at Chautauqua in 
its behalf on August nth, 1909, by the late Dr. Henry B. 
Favill, of Chicago, a leader in social work as well as in the 
field of medicine, who served as President of the Com- 
mittee during its first years of existence: 
“ Why am I here to-day addressing you? Briefly 
it happens in this way. A man in Connecticut, Clifford 
W. Beers by name, was for three years confined in 
various hospitals for the insane, had various experi- 
ences, and ultimately, in 1903, regained his mental 
health. He came through that experience with an 
accurate memory and acute perception of everything 
that happened to him, a clear recollection of all the per- 
verted mental processes that he went through, a keen 
sense of the misinterpretation to which his mental 
processes were exposed, a very temperate resentment at 
the unnecessary hardships and brutalities which he 
experienced, the outgrowth of a system and not of per- 
sonal default, and all this he imparted in one of the most 
remarkable books of the age, ‘A Mind That Found 
Itself/ 
“With tremendous conviction and singleness of pur- 
pose he has devoted himself to the amelioration of social 
conditions as they bear upon the question of mental 
integrity. He has formed a society in Connecticut 
which is doing effective work. He conceived the idea 
of a National Committee which should do a compre- 
hensive work in this direction. He selected a Board of 
Directors from all over the country. Incidentally, 288 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
I was made the President of the Committee. I am here 
speaking the first public word which has been uttered 
in its behalf. 
“ A proper question is, What is our programme? At 
the moment it is rather indefinite, and yet in a general 
way I can say to you what we propose to do. 
“ In the first place we need money to carry on an effec- 
tive work. We hope to get that from some source. As 
the next step, which seems logically to be the last step, 
which we shall probably pursue, we propose actively to 
take up what is known as ‘after-care of the insane.’ 
That means the establishing of relations between 
patients who are about to be discharged as cured, or 
partially cured, and their outside work, establishing a 
connection which will continue a wise supervision out 
into their social relations. The value of this is twofold. 
“ In the first place, its tendency is to prevent relapse by 
foreseeing conditions unfavorable to the individual and 
preventing their harmful operation. In this way prob- 
ably a very large percentage of the relapses can be 
prevented. 
“ But, more than this, and probably far more important 
than this, will be the relationship which becomes thereby 
established with the family and group and entire social 
circle of the individual. 
“ In establishing a harmonious relation in this way 
there is no doubt that a great deal of impending mental 
disaster can be averted. It is one of the ways in which 
early contact with mental disturbances can be secured. 
“ Please to realize the difficulty in this point. Sup- MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
289 
posing, without any entering wedge, we undertake to go 
to a family which we know to be more or less vulnerable 
and say, ‘You have a bad family make-up, your family 
history is bad, you are all liable to go to pieces men- 
tally, we want to fix it.’ Imagine, if you can, anything 
more impossible to accomplish than results upon such a 
basis. 
“ On the other hand, if you can go into that situation 
naturally, carefully and with a sympathetic connection 
already established through an actual patient, there is 
practically no limit to the access which can be secured. 
Whatever results are possible from such early access can 
be achieved. Those are the merits of ‘after-care.’ 
“ Next, our programme is education, spreading broad- 
cast, as we may, correct ideas about insanity, mental 
balance, mental hygiene, right living. 
“ And next, we shall attempt to effect legislation, so to 
alter the laws and the procedure as to fit in with this 
fundamental conception of mental unsoundness. 
“As a preliminary to that legislation, we must have 
popular opinion. Legislation cannot go much beyond 
public opinion, and it is our desire, and it will be our 
effort, to create public opinion as fast and as widely as 
we may. 
“ And now the question is, What do we want from 
you? The answer is simple,—merely a hearing, merely 
a fair judgment, as to the soundness of what we set forth, 
merely a sense of its importance, and growing out of that 
a conviction as to your relation to it. 
“We want a hearing and we feel confident that as a 290 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
result of a hearing we shall found an individual convic- 
tion on the part of practically everyone as to his obliga- 
tion to help where he can. 
“ I do not hesitate to say that of all the great public 
movements that are going on for the correction, the 
amelioration of social conditions, there is none more 
important nor more deserving of your earnest attention.” 
At the founding meeting of the National Committee in 
1909, it was confidently believed that funds for the 
beginning of active work would soon be secured. A year 
later, however, no gifts having been received, how to 
finance the work became the chief topic of discussion at 
the second annual meeting, held on April 9th, 1910. The 
advice given at that time by Dr. Favill, who was then 
president, proved to be prophetic. To quote from his 
remarks: 
“ It seems to me very clear that the question of policy 
with us at this moment is essentially a question of finance. 
If we had money enough, we would all be agreed that it 
was best to organize efficiently with well-paid officials 
and go into a comprehensive campaign with which we 
could make good—educationally, institutionally, and 
illustratively. If, on the other hand, we have not 
money enough, the most that we could accomplish would 
be a flash in the pan. Personally, I have a very strong 
feeling that an appeal to any considerable number of 
the public would be futile at this moment. Professor 
Fisher has stated part of it, namely, that the public MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
291 
does not understand insanity. I am quite prepared 
from my personal experience to state another part of it 
and that is that the public does not yield money to 
organizations except under a very definite and pro- 
tracted pressure and then only upon a presentation of 
things so cogent as to be convincing in some degree or 
other—not only of their importance, but from personal 
relation—to the individuals in question. 
“ I am raising money or helping to raise money for 
many organizations and I am thoroughly convinced of the 
difficulties encountered in popular subscriptions. Aside 
from the question of difficulty, however, I am as much 
convinced that the smaller the source of our money at 
first, the safer we are, just as I am convinced that in the 
long run the wider our financial foundations, the safer 
we are. Any co-operation or support to this movement 
at this time requires vision. If the individual furnishing 
the money has not the vision, he must have faith in 
a few individuals who have vision and it has got to be the 
sort of faith which will go on, not only one or two, but 
perhaps three or four or five years before results can be 
achieved sufficient really to be regarded as tangible and 
demonstrable results. The public will not stand that 
sort of procrastination. The public or any small portion 
of the public will not be able to have loyalty and adher- 
ence to any proposition of this kind, to be counted upon 
for support. I believe that we have got to find a man 
who will come into this situation with a fund or a guar- 
antee, based upon a conviction, instilled into him by 292 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
those who have the power, as to the importance of the 
work and the necessarily protracted character of the 
preliminary operations. I think that our Finance Com- 
mittee is the crux of the situation and I predict, without 
any pessimism, that it will be found that unless a very 
limited focus of financial support can be made, we will 
be a year hence in not a very different position from 
what we are now. That is my feeling in the matter and, 
consequently, I regard our deliberations to-day as being 
essentially the establishment of a financial policy which, 
if it can be successful, will by that very fact establish 
to a large extent our future organic policy.” 
Dr. Favill was right. A year later, though The New 
York Foundation had given three thousand dollars to 
the National Committee, no large gift, insuring the con- 
tinuance of work on an active basis for a period of years, 
had been secured. Failure to find the needed support 
was not occasioned by any defect in the plan for work. 
The trouble was that the “man of vision,” referred to by 
Dr. Favill, had not been found. In November, 1911, 
however, he revealed himself. Mr. Henry Phipps 
proved to be the long-hoped-for patron. He offered his 
gift while talking with Dr. William H. Welch. No one 
had asked him to contribute. That the gift was spon- 
taneously offered was characteristic of Mr. Phipps; for 
he had a way of sensing needs and taking the initia- 
tive in meeting them. His confirmatory letter sent to 
Dr. Welch read as follows: MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
293 
New York City, 
November 4, 1911. 
Dear Dr. Welch, 
For some time past I have been thinking of what I 
could do toward ameliorating the condition of the insane 
in public and private institutions and I shall be very 
glad, as mentioned to you this morning, if you will accept 
Fifty Thousand Dollars ($50,000) and appoint suitable 
parties to carry out such views as you may have on the 
subject. 
I will send you a check whenever it is required. 
Sincerely yours, 
Henry Phipps. 
Though Mr. Phipps at this time was a member of The 
National Committee for Mental Hygiene he, like most 
other members, did not know much about its work—for 
the simple reason that it had done no active work. But 
he had read my story and I have reason to believe that 
its effect upon him, of which he spoke to others later, 
perhaps inspired his gift. His desire, as stated in his 
letter, was “ to ameliorate conditions among the insane in 
public and private institutions,” which was one of the 
chief purposes of The National Committee for Mental 
Hygiene. As might have been expected, Dr. Welch 
recommended that the $50,000 be given to that organ- 
ization, which was soon done. 
Shortly after the announcement of Mr. Phipps’s gift to 
the National Committee, I received from him a note in 294 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
which he said: “I should like to take you motoring when 
you can find time to call, giving me notice of a day or 
two. We could have an interesting talk.” 
A week later I spent an afternoon with Mr. Phipps. 
While motoring he talked about my book and showed 
lively appreciation of the service I had rendered in pub- 
lishing it and in organizing The National Committee for 
Mental Hygiene. Evidently my story had given Mr. 
Phipps the impression that one who had once suffered a 
mental breakdown should not, after recovery, work too 
hard and, above all, should not be subjected to worries. 
I assured him that I had proved that I had a high degree 
of resistance both to the strain of work and to such 
worries as had been involved in carrying my project 
forward. But Mr. Phipps seemed not to be convinced, 
for he said, “How much would it take to keep you 
from worrying?” This was indeed a baffling question 
put to a man in debt on account of the work — by 
a man of great wealth, famous for his generosity, 
who had already shown interest in the project. I told 
Mr. Phipps that as I was his guest it hardly seemed 
proper for me to discuss my personal affairs and needs. 
“I had you come to see me for the purpose of discussing 
them,” he said. “Would five thousand dollars be of 
use? I want you to have it as a buttress—for a ‘rainy 
day.’” As the period from January ist, 1907, when I 
abandoned my business career and an assured salary to 
give my whole time to the publishing of my book and 
the organizing of the National Committee, had, in a 
financial sense, been one continuous “rainy day,” I at MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
295 
once accepted this golden bolt from the blue that cleared 
my financial skies. The next day I received the following 
note from Mr. Phipps: 
1063 Fifth Avenue, 
December 12, 1911. 
Dear Mr. Beers: 
It gives me much pleasure to ask you to accept the 
enclosed check for five thousand dollars ($5,000), to be 
exclusively for your own use: nothing to do with The 
National Committee for Mental Hygiene. 
Trusting it may add to your pleasure, 
Yours sincerely, 
Henry Phipps. 
This was, indeed, a timely gift, for I had expended 
more than ten thousand dollars in publishing my book 
and organizing the National Committee, eight thousand 
of which represented money borrowed of banks, and 
of a few individuals who believed in my ultimate suc- 
cess. Through a partial reimbursement secured by 
the National Committee for the specific purpose and 
previously voted me by it on account of expenses incurred 
in its behalf, both before and while serving as its tem- 
porary secretary, I had already paid three thousand 
dollars of my debts. With Mr. Phipps’s unexpected 
gift I was now able to pay all other debts. For the first 
time in nearly five years, I owed no one a dollar on ac- 
count of my work. I also had the satisfaction of know- 
ing that my judgment regarding the feasibility of my 
project had at last been vindicated, for not only was 296 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
I out of debt, but the National Committee had funds 
sufficient for at least three years of active work. Soon 
afterwards I was appointed Secretary with a real, if 
modest, salary. 
Many fortunate occurrences have contributed to the 
success of The National Committee for Mental Hygiene, 
chief among them being the securing of Dr. Thomas W. 
Salmon as its Medical Director when the active work was 
begun in March, 1912. Having been an officer of 
the United States Public Health Service in charge of the 
mental examination of immigrants at Ellis Island for 
several years, and a member of the medical staff of a State 
Hospital and later Chairman of the Board of Alienists 
of the New York State Hospital Commission, Dr. Salmon 
was able to place the work of the National Committee 
on an effective basis within a short time. During the 
ten years that he has served as Medical Director, vir- 
tually all of the important plans for work have been 
visioned, formulated and directed by him, especially 
with reference to special studies, surveys and war and 
reconstruction work, the most difficult of the many 
activities of the organization. Fortunate, too, has 
the National Committee been in having among its most 
active members leaders in psychiatry, neurology, psy- 
chology, general medicine, education, finance and social 
work in this country who have given generously of their 
time in serving as members of its inner committees. 
The National Committee was now a going concern. 
The tendency of the work to find itself occupying a wider 
and wider field is illustrated by an address delivered in MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
297 
September, 1912, by Dr. Lewellys F. Barker, former 
Professor of Medicine at Johns Hopkins University, who 
for several years served as President of the National 
Committee. To quote in part: 
“it is right that, in an International Congress of 
Hygiene and Demography, the subject of Mental Hygiene 
should have especial representation. Though assigned, 
as a sub-section, to the section on the Hygiene of Infancy 
and Childhood, thus emphasizing its relations to inheri- 
tance on the one hand and to the early environmental 
period of the individual on the other, it might almost 
equally well, for other reasons, have been made a sub- 
division in any one of the main groups of the Congress. 
Indeed, so important is this sub-division for the welfare 
of individuals, of families, of communities, of nations, 
and of the human race in general, and so widespread its 
ramifications, that committees on the organization of 
future Congresses might well consider the establishment 
of an additional main section, devoted entirely to Mental 
Hygiene. 
“By a campaign for mental hygiene is meant a con- 
tinuous effort directed toward conserving and improving 
the minds of the people, in other words, a systematic 
attempt to secure human brains, so naturally endowed 
and so nurtured, that people will think better, feel better, 
and act better, than they do now. Such a campaign was 
not to be expected before the rise of modern medicine. 
For only with this rise have we come to look upon states 
of mind as directly related to states of brain, to view 
insanity as disordered brain-function, and to recognize 298 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
in imbecility, and in crime, the evidences of brain-defect. 
The imbecile, the hysterical, the epileptic, the insane, 
and the criminal, were formerly regarded sometimes as 
saints or prophets, sometimes as wizards or witches, often 
as the victims of demoniac possession, on the one hand 
to be revered or worshipped, or, on the other, to be 
burned or otherwise tortured. Now, such unfortunates 
are looked upon as patients with disordered or defective 
nervous systems, proper subjects of medical care; some 
of them are curable; some are incurable, but still educable 
to social usefulness; a part of them are socially so worth- 
less, harmful or dangerous as to make their exclusion 
from general society necessary, or desirable. It is but a 
short step from such a reformation of ideas to the realiza- 
tion that less marked deviations from normal thought, 
feeling, or behavior, are also evidences either of brains 
defective from the start, or made abnormal in function 
by bad surroundings or by bodily disease. As examples 
of such marked abnormalities may be mentioned those 
met with in children who are difficult to educate, in 
young people arraigned in the Juvenile Courts, in adults, 
who, inadequate to the strains of life, crowd our hos- 
pitals or sanitaria on account of ‘nervous’ or ‘mental’ 
breakdown, or who, owing to anomalies of character and 
conduct, provide material for the news columns of the 
sensational press. 
“ Modern medicine has taught us to recognize that tk-5 
conditions necessary for a good mind include, first, th? 
inheritance of such germ-plasm from one’s progenitors 
as will yield a brain capable of a high grade of develop- MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
299 
ment to individual and social usefulness, and, secondly, 
the protection of that brain from injury and the sub- 
mission of it to influences favorable to the development of 
its powers. Now if these doctrines of modern medicine 
be true, the general problems of mental hygiene become 
obvious; broadly conceived, they consist, first, in pro- 
viding for the birth of children endowed with good 
brains, denying, as far as possible, the privilege of parent- 
hood to the manifestly unfit who are almost certain to 
transmit bad nervous systems to their offspring—that 
is to say, the problem of eugenics; and second, in supply- 
ing all individuals, from the moment of fusion of the 
parental germ-cells onward, and whether ancestrally 
well begun or not, with the environment best suited for 
the welfare of their mentality. 
“ The natural sciences are built up by the gradual dis- 
covery of causal relationships; and physicians and psy- 
chologists have, since the time of Pinel, gone far in the 
establishment of the laws underlying normal and abnor- 
mal phenomena of mind. From the conviction that a 
proper application of the facts already discovered can 
vastly improve the mental powers of our people, decreas- 
ing to a large extent the prevalence of mental defect and 
mental disease, has come the impulse to arouse public 
opinion in favor of a definite plan for mental hygiene. 
This impulse, thanks to the initiative of a layman, 
Clifford W. Beers (now Secretary of the National Com- 
mittee), author of ‘A Mind That Found Itself/ whose 
personal sufferings led him on recovery to devote himself 
to the cause of mental hygiene, and who enlisted the 300 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
co-operation of a group of representative men and women, 
has found expression in the voluntary formation of a 
National Committee for Mental Hygiene.” 
As pointed out by Dr. Barker, we immediately 
found that the usefulness of such an auxiliary organ- 
ization was bound to spread from fields mapped out 
to new fields not originally included in the scope of the 
work. Though written much later, a letter from Dr. 
Walter E. Fernald, Superintendent of The Massa- 
chusetts School for Feebleminded at Waverley (who 
has long been recognized as the leader in the field of 
mental deficiency in this country), shows how we had 
all builded better than we knew. Under date of 
November 27th, 1916, Dr. Fernald said: 
“ Had you begun your work with the express purpose 
of rendering help to the mentally defective, instead of 
to the insane, you could not have planned an agency 
better fitted to cope with the difficulties of the problem 
of mental deficiency than is The National Committee 
for Mental Hygiene. 
“ It has been my privilege to witness and, in various 
ways, to participate in the growth of the now wide- 
spread movement in behalf of the mentally defective. 
At first this was a slow growth, but during the past ten 
years—and especially during the past five—it has been 
one of the most striking social developments of the day. 
Many individuals, groups and forces have contributed 
to this fortunate result. The National Committee for 
Mental Hygiene felt the force of this movement within MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
301 
one year of the time it began its active work in 1912 
and wisely began then to bring into its membership 
physicians who had special knowledge of the problem 
of mental deficiency. As in all new fields—when pioneer 
work is done by many unrelated groups and by zealous 
individuals—there was great danger that propaganda 
might outrun dependable data and that unwise plans, 
policies and laws relating to State care of the mentally 
defective might be hastily adopted in many States. 
This danger, however, has been averted, and I believe 
that The National Committee for Mental Hygiene and 
its affiliated State Societies are destined to continue to 
influence, along wise and effective lines, the manage- 
ment of all phases of the great problem of mental 
deficiency.” 
So many people fail to appreciate that the mental 
hygiene movement is of vital concern to everybody that 
it seems advisable to present an excerpt from an article 
that appeared in Mental Hygiene (July, 1921), by 
Dr. C. Macfie Campbell, Professor of Psychiatry at 
Harvard University, and Chairman of the Committee 
on Education of The National Committee for Mental 
Hygiene. To quote: 
“ Mental hygiene is not concerned merely with those 
serious forms of mental disorder which require treatment 
in State hospitals; it is concerned with those other forms 
of mental disorders which do not necessarily mean the 
removal of the individual from his ordinary social envi- 
ronment. A disorder is a mental disorder if its roots are 302 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
mental. A headache indicates a mental disorder if it 
comes because one is dodging something disagreeable. 
A pain in the back is a mental disorder if its persistence 
is due to discouragement and a feeling of uncertainty 
and a desire to have sick benefit, rather than to put one’s 
back into one’s work. Sleeplessness is a mental disorder 
if its basis lies in personal worries and emotional tan- 
gles. Many mental reactions are indications of poor 
mental health, although they are not usually classified 
as mental disorders. Discontent with one’s environment 
may be a mental disorder, if its cause lie, not in some 
external situation, but in personal failure to deaV with 
one’s emotional problems. Suspicion, distrust, misin- 
terpretation, are mental disorders when they are the 
disguised expression of repressed longings, into which the 
patient has no clear insight. Stealing sometimes indi- 
cates a mental disorder, the odd expression of under- 
lying conflicts in the patient’s nature. The feeling of 
fatigue sometimes represents, not overwork, but dis- 
couragement, inability to meet situations, lack of interest 
in the opportunities available. Unsociability, marital 
incompatibility, alcoholism, an aggressive and embittered 
social attitude, may all indicate a disorder of the mental 
balance, which may be open to modification. Acute 
phenomena characterized by unreasoning emotional 
reactions, such as lynching and other mob reactions, 
waves of popular suspicion sweeping over a country, 
may be looked upon as transitory disorders. The same 
factors that are involved in these familiar reactions 
play an important part in the development of insanity.” MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
303 
The gift of $50,000 from Mr. Henry Phipps provided 
for the first three years of work. In 1914 no funds for 
use beyond that year were in sight. This crisis was met 
in the following way. A copy of “A Mind That Found 
Itself” was sent to each of one hundred people of wealth, 
known to be liberal contributors to worthy work. With 
each inscribed copy of the book a letter of appeal was 
sent, asking for pledges to cover a period of years. Few 
had faith in the scheme and one adviser even predicted 
that the appeals would go the common route of circular 
letters—into the wastebasket. I ventured to predict 
that the book would keep or lift some of them out of 
it, and events justified my judgment. 
Two of the letters brought surprising results. Mrs. 
William K. Vanderbilt and the late Mrs. Elizabeth Mil- 
bank Anderson responded with pledges to the value of 
$2,500 each, and asked me to call and tell them in person 
about the work. As the most difficult task of one who 
has an unproved plan to present is to secure interviews 
with potential donors, this was a very fortunate result. 
Mrs. Anderson soon gave $10,000 and Mrs. Vanderbilt 
$4,500 for use during 1915; and a little later these two 
benefactors each pledged $10,000 a year for the four years 
ending in 1919. This backlog of support gave us time 
in which to secure from others gifts for general and spe- 
cific purposes during those years. Thus was the second 
financial crisis met. The copies of my book which had 
kept at least two of my early letters of appeal out of the 
wastebasket had brought to the National Committee 
gifts amounting to nearly $100,000. Indeed, the copy A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
304 
sent to Mrs. Anderson may be said to have brought to its 
treasury a quarter of a million dollars, for her gifts, and 
her bequest of $100,000 (this generous friend died on 
February 23rd, 1921), total that amount. In addition, 
Mrs. Anderson gave a conditional pledge of $100,000 
toward endowment, as described later. 
Other liberal individual contributors have been Mrs. 
E. H. Harriman, who has given or pledged $45,000 in 
the form of annual gifts of $5,000 each, largely for work 
in mental deficiency, in which field Mrs. Harriman and 
her daughter, Mrs. Rumsey, were among the pioneers 
in this country; and Miss Anne Thomson, who gave 
$15,000 for initiating war work. Toward general ex- 
penses, Mr. V. Everit Macy has given or pledged 
$10,000; and Mrs. Willard Straight, Mr. George F. 
Baker, Jr., Mr. Cyrus H. McCormick, Dr. and Mrs. 
Walter B. James, Mr. Otto T. Bannard, Mr. Robert S. 
Brewster, Mrs. Helen Hartley Jenkins, Mr. Nicholas F. 
Brady, Mr. Adolph and Mr. Sam A. Lewisohn and Miss 
Mable Choate, have given or pledged approximately 
$5,000 each. Several others have given $1,000 at 
intervals, and still others have contributed smaller 
amounts. The Rockefeller Foundation, the New York 
Foundation, the Commonwealth Fund and the Milbank 
Memorial Fund have contributed, from time to time, 
largely for special purposes. 
All told, comparatively few individuals have con- 
tributed to the National Committee since it was founded 
in 1909. The support of a few, rather than of the many, 
during the early years of a philanthropy is often desirable, MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
305 
as Dr. Favill says in his remarks that appear on a pre- 
ceding page. But, as he also points out, there comes a 
time when a wider basis of support is not only desirable, 
but indispensable to the healthy growth of any work. 
That time has now come. A work which benefits the 
whole public deserves to be supported by public-spirited 
people of wealth in all cities and in all States. Thus far, 
nearly all of the support of the National Committee has 
come from residents of only a few cities. 
Concerted efforts are now being made to secure ade- 
quate funds for maintenance, development, and endow- 
ment. The work and the needs of the National Com- 
mittee are being presented to individuals and to groups 
throughout the country. People who have never before 
learned in detail of the work are to be given the chance to 
contribute, or pledge future gifts, in proportion to their 
resources, their belief in the need for organized mental 
hygiene work, and their faith in the National Committee. 
In this way, it is hoped that this organization, which 
champions great classes who need help (but have never 
yet received what they deserve), may be placed in a 
position to give that help promptly and on a scale in 
keeping with the demands. Funds are needed, not alone 
for endowment, but for general expenses. For, unless an 
adequate staff of skilled workers can be maintained, 
gifts for special purposes, such as surveys, studies and 
demonstrations, cannot be administered with full 
effectiveness. 
The letter from Mrs. Anderson, which opened the quest 
for endowment, speaks for itself. To quote: 306 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
New York City, 
November 29, 1919. 
Otto T. Bannard, Esq., Treasurer, 
The National Committee for Mental Hygiene, Inc., 
New York City. 
Dear Mr. Bannard: 
I am very much interested in the effort about to be 
made to raise an adequate endowment, the income of 
which will be available to perpetuate the work of The 
National Committee for Mental Hygiene, Inc. I dis- 
cussed this matter at some length with Mr. Beers and I 
am now prepared to pledge the sum of $100,000 upon the 
condition that your Committee will use its best efforts to 
raise an additional sum of $900,000 to the end that the 
Committee will have at its disposal an endowment of at 
least $1,000,000, a sum which, to my mind, is clearly 
needed if the full benefits of the undertaking are to be 
realized. . . . 
I am well satisfied with all that has been accomplished 
since Mr. Beers first stirred my interest in the work and I 
feel that we all owe him a debt of gratitude for the 
important part he has taken in focussing public attention 
on a subject of such vital concern to the community. I 
earnestly hope that your efforts to place the work on a 
permanent foundation will meet with complete success. 
Yours very truly, 
Elizabeth Milbank Anderson. 
Under the pledge of Mrs. Anderson, a liberal time for 
completing the endowment is given; and of the amount MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
307 
pledged, $50,000 becomes payable as soon as $450,000 
from other sources has been secured. 
Mrs. Anderson was keenly interested in the plan for 
securing an endowment, and she and I once discussed 
the possibility of securing gifts for the National Com- 
mittee through bequests. She said that if others found 
pleasure, as she did, in making a will, it would be per- 
fectly proper to ask people of wealth to consider provid- 
ing for bequests to The National Committee for Mental 
Hygiene. As the subject of making a will is a delicate 
one and as probably few people (except the lawyers) 
find pleasure in drawing up wills, I have never yet 
had the temerity to discuss possible bequests for the 
National Committee with people who can afford to 
make them. Nevertheless, I have courage enough to 
write as I now do and thus bring the subject, in a general 
way, to the attention of readers who may be in a posi- 
tion to remember the National Committee in their wills, 
along with other incorporated organizations engaged in 
work of a philanthropic nature. 
Mrs. Anderson bequeathed $100,000, unconditionally, 
to the National Committee. Recently a bequest of a 
few thousand dollars was received under the will of the 
late Margaret W. Gage of Cambridge, Massachusetts. 
In 1917, Miss Gage wrote as follows: “ Will you kindly 
send me some printed matter describing the work of 
your society? I want to give a small bequest in my will 
to help in the prevention and cure of insanity and 
I want to know where is wisest to apply the be- 
quest.” A copy of “A Mind That Found Itself,” and 308 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
other publications descriptive of the National Com- 
mittee were sent to Miss Gage, who later wrote that she 
was “convinced of its reliability and its good work.” 
If a bequest could follow in this instance without any 
further correspondence or an interview, is it not reason- 
able to expect that the information set forth in this book 
may inspire similar action on the part of others? 
Enough has been said to show that the success of the 
work of The National Committee for Mental Hygiene 
is assured. Though it is not necessary, I am sure, to pre- 
sent opinions showing that liberal support for the work 
is deserved, I shall, nevertheless, present a letter from 
Dr. Charles W. Eliot, President Emeritus of Harvard 
University, who became a Vice-President of The Nation- 
al Committee for Mental Hygiene even before its active 
work was begun. He sent it to me after reading the 
page proofs of part of the revised 4th Edition of my 
autobiography. 
Cambridge, Mass. 
17 January, 1917. 
Dear Mr. Beers: 
I am glad to hear that you are about to publish a 
revised edition of “A Mind That Found Itself,” which 
will contain an account of the organizing of The National 
Committee for Mental Hygiene. Your part in creating 
that Committee was so important that an account of it 
will be an entirely appropriate addition to your book, 
which had a highly interesting autobiographical char- 
acter, and owed much of its immediate influence to that 
quality. MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
309 
I have just had the pleasure of reading the proofs of 
your account of the creation of The National Committee 
for Mental Hygiene; and want to congratulate you at 
once on the friends and supporters you have found in the 
prosecution of your difficult enterprise, and to suggest 
that the work of the Committee is sure to be permanent, 
and therefore should be supported on a permanent endow- 
ment. The work of the Committee now divides itself 
into original inquiries or surveys, popular education 
concerning the care and treatment of the insane and the 
preventable causes of mental disease and deficiency, 
and the organizing and advising of agencies (federal, 
state and local) for promoting the objects for which the 
Committee labors. All three of these objects have a 
permanent character; although the function of inquiring 
and surveying may later take the form of inspecting. 
A permanent work of this sort should be supported by 
an adequate endowment. 
Thus far in the life of the National Committee its 
resources have been of a temporary nature, supplied 
chiefly by such very unusual givers as Mr. Henry Phipps, 
Mrs. Elizabeth Milbank Anderson, and Mrs. William 
K. Vanderbilt, and the Rockefeller Foundation. I con- 
gratulate you that your Board of Directors has already 
voted that an endowment fund be raised; and I wish 
you prompt success in obtaining that endowment. You 
have already been so successful in enlisting both sym- 
pathy and pecuniary support for your cause that I antici- 
pate for you success in this new undertaking. 
Among your friends and supporters, the most interest- 310 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
ing and remarkable personage, to my thinking, was Wil- 
liam James. His letters to you about your work, and his 
gift of a thousand dollars to your cause—for him a very 
large gift—must have been very delightful to you, and 
helpful also. They moved me very much as I read them 
last evening; and I hope that they will move to aid 
you some among his numerous friends and admirers 
who can afford the luxury and enjoy the privilege of 
liberally endowing worthy and competent agencies for 
promoting human welfare. 
Sincerely yours, 
Charles W. Eliot. 
In concluding this somewhat intimate chapter it is 
fitting that other cherished plans, relating to a World 
Congress of Mental Hygiene and an International 
Committee, should be described. The most interesting 
way to do this is to present a revised and concise report 
of a meeting and luncheon of the Organizing Committee 
of the International Committee for Mental Hygiene 
held at the Yale Club in New York City on December 
n, 1922. To quote: 
“The officers in charge of the meeting were: Dr. 
Stephen P. Duggan, Chairman, and Mr. Clifford W. 
Beers, General Secretary of the Organizing Committee. 
Dr. Duggan presided. 
Dr. Duggan. “ We are going to hear from a number 
of persons from different parts of the world this after- 
noon. Although one comes from Canada, one from 
Belgium and one from Brazil, all of them will speak MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
311 
alike in one respect, that is they will say much in a brief 
time. When Mr. Carty and Mr. Beers speak they, too, 
will be brief, if natives of this oratorical nation can be 
that, the idea being that this sort of meeting at mid-day 
must be carried through with a rush if we are not to lose 
some of our audience who have other engagements. 
“ Some of you know of the remarkable work done in 
Canada by the Canadian National Committee for Mental 
Hygiene. It is astonishing how much has been accom- 
plished by that Committee since it was founded in 1918. 
I don’t want to take the time to describe it because I 
don’t know the story well enough, and furthermore 
because it can be told much better by the Medical 
Director of the Canadian National Committee, Dr. C. 
K. Clarke, who serves also as Professor of Psychiatry in 
the University of Toronto.” 
Dr. Clarke: “ The mental hygiene movement has been 
a very great success as far as we are concerned. Mr. 
Beers helped to put the movement on its feet in Canada in 
1918 when our Committee was organized, and it has been 
successful from one end of the country to the other. There 
is only one Province that has not come into line and we 
shall be able to do work there when our budget permits. 
It is surprising what an effect the work has had. Take 
the problem of the so-called criminal insane. The care 
of this class had fallen into neglect because the Provinces 
did not have the best advice on how to deal with them. 
But they are making good now and doing all the things 
we want them to do and much progress has been made. 
They have already spent large sums of money for in- A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
312 
creased institutional accommodations and through propa- 
ganda this work is spreading to all parts of Canada. 
“We find now that our problems are very much more 
extensive but we feel that this movement is the one 
movement that is going to make the world a good deal 
better world, because as we study these problems we 
find that so many people have been starting at the wrong 
end. In mental hygiene is contained the solution of a 
great many of these problems. In order to deal effec- 
tively with adult criminality and juvenile delinquency, 
for instance, we find that we must get back to first 
principles, and our greatest energy is now being spent 
in that direction. 
“ This movement requires the co-ordination of a good 
many nations and a good many minds and we must have 
international relations. It is the order of the day. 
We ought to have an International Congress where we 
could discuss our problems because they must be similar 
in all countries. Take the simple question of law and 
the penal system. There is an article in the Atlantic 
Monthly for December which deals with the condition 
of the jails in the United States which might apply just 
as well to Canada. I think the article in itself shows 
the need for international co-operation. There is a great 
deal of veneer in our so-called civilization. Only such 
a movement as that for mental hygiene can get at the 
true facts and show the real remedies for a great many 
of the troubles which exist in the world, in every part of it. 
“ I feel honored to be here today. I welcome further 
international relations because it is a great stimulus to MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
313 
meet people from other countries and to hear them dis- 
cuss their problems. The International Committee can 
foster this. If a Congress can be arranged it will be a 
splendid thing. I am particularly interested in such a 
Congress because I expect to meet a great many English 
people next spring when I go to London to deliver the 
Maudsley Lecture before the British Medico-Psycho- 
logical Association. I shall do what I can to interest 
them in the planned Congress and the International 
Committee and I shall speak freely of the founder of the 
movement, giving him full credit for all he has done to 
foster mental hygiene throughout the world. Had he 
not taken the initiative when he did and been wise 
enough to seek the co-operation of those capable of giving 
the soundest and wisest advice, the movement would 
have failed. As it is, it is a remarkable success, the 
magnitude of which is just beginning to be apparent. 
After an International Congress has been held, the whole 
public will realize the importance of our work and will 
give it the support it deserves.” 
Dr. Duggan: “ I have had the pleasure of sitting next 
to Dr. Ley at this luncheon and have learned of the 
remarkable work that is being done in Belgium. Some 
of the things he has described, especially the work at 
Gheel which has come down from the Middle Ages, have 
been astonishing. I take great pleasure in introducing 
Dr. August Ley, Professor of Psychiatry in the University 
of Brussels and Founder of the Belgian National League 
for Mental Hygiene.” 
Dr. Ley: “ My English is a little difficult, but I am 314 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
very glad to bring you the greetings of our Belgian 
League for Mental Hygiene and I think I may speak 
also as a member of the Medico-Psychological Associa- 
tion of Paris, and not only on behalf of the Belgian 
League for Mental Hygiene but also for the French 
League for Mental Hygiene. The Belgian League was 
founded after my previous visit to New York in 1920. 
I went to the office of your National Committee and I 
met there Mr. Beers. Later I read his book. I found 
it very interesting and on my return to Belgium I got 
some people. interested there. We have already in 
Belgium a “ committee ” of very important people and 
we see the sympathy among the public increasing every 
day. We have an office already, in connection with the 
Red Cross in Brussels. The Secretary of the Red Cross 
voluntarily helps in the work as Secretary of our League. 
He is very active in the mental hygiene cause. 
“We have in Brussels a dispensary for mental hygiene 
which has been established in connection with psychia- 
tric consultation at the general hospital. I am in charge 
of this. In the central dispensary every person who 
needs advice about mental hygiene can get it and he is 
then put in touch with the people who can be useful to 
him. We find the question of juvenile delinquency a 
very important one in the activities of mental hygiene 
and we are trying to organize something about juvenile 
delinquency. We are in touch with a little clinic at- 
tached to the Children’s Court in Brussels and we can 
do there some very important work. 
“ While in Canada I visited the mental clinic of Dr. MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
315 
Clarke at the Toronto General Hospital. Here I have 
visited the Child Guidance Clinic of Dr. Glueck and I 
found it very interesting. I trust and hope that our 
League for Mental Hygiene will be able to organize 
later something of the kind that has been done in this 
country for preventing juvenile delinquency through 
your National Committee with the help of the Common- 
wealth Fund. 
“As to the proposed 1 International Congress of 
Mental Hygiene/ I think it would be very important to 
have at this time or a little later an International Con- 
gress. I attended the ‘ Congress of Paris ’ last May. 
It was a congress for mental hygiene under the auspices 
of the French League for Mental Hygiene. It was a 
success. Neurologists, psychiatrists, social workers and 
people interested in vocational guidance were at the 
mental hygiene congress. The questions discussed 
related to conditions of mental patients in general, and 
some addresses were given on criminality, abnormal 
children, education of normal children, and especially 
the>education in the modern schools. So the time seems 
to have arrived to hold in 1924, if possible, a well 
organized congress in America. I am sure it would be 
a very great success. 
“ It would be interesting to have somebody come to 
Europe to see some people there and to make arrange- 
ments about the Congress. I may say that at the Con- 
gress in Paris last May, I heard Mr. Beers spoken about 
many times. He was expected there but could not 
arrange to come. I think if he could come to Europe 316 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
as General Secretary of the Organizing Committee to 
speak to various people it would be very important for 
the preparation of the Congress and also increase interest 
in the International Committee’s plans. 
“ The importance of the movement for mental hygiene 
is very great. It is one of the most comprehensive 
questions that we have at present and I assure you that 
we appreciate very much in Belgium as they do in France 
the great help that the movement for mental hygiene 
has given to the solution of some of the most important 
problems of modern times. I hope that this Congress 
will be organized for it will be for us overseas an occasion 
to gain new knowledge and I hope we can come here to 
take part because we are fighting these problems together. 
I express my best thanks and I wish full success to the 
movement for mental hygiene in America and in the 
world.” 
Dr. Duggan: “ We have heard from two physicians, 
one from Canada and one from Belgium. We now 
transfer our attention to laymen. I was talking in the 
Library of Columbia University the other day with Dr. 
James, President of our National Committee, and 
President Butler. Dr. James turned the conversation 
to mental hygiene and Dr. Butler said: “ There is one 
man that you want to get hold of if you want to spread 
mental hygiene among people who are doing great things 
in the world.” We both seized upon the chance of get- 
ting such a man and he said the man was Mr. John J. 
Carty, Vice-President of the American Telephone and 
Telegraph Company. We are going to hear from Mr. MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
317 
Carty and he is going to tell us how a really intelligent 
layman (one beyond 13 year-old-mental-capacity) views 
mental hygiene.” 
Mr. Carty: “1 am interested in your subject, not as 
an expert in psychiatry, but from the standpoint of re- 
search broadly considered. This is natural, for I have 
been interested in telephonic research for more than 
forty years. Attracted by the analogy which the tele- 
phone system has presented to the nervous system, I 
have always been interested in the developments of 
your science. At the tune of the war, I was one of those 
who formed the National Research Council and later 
the International Research Council. This brought me 
into contact with the late Dr. Pearce Bailey, with Dr. 
Stewart Paton and with others. I had the good luck 
during the war to cross on the same transport with Dr. 
Bailey, and I often refer to this trip as my two weeks’ 
course in psychiatry under Bailey. From my contact 
with the psychiatrists and the psychologists during the 
war, I got something of a layman’s point of view con- 
cerning the objects and methods and possibilities of the 
new psychiatry and mental hygiene. 
“ Ever since the polemics of Spencer and Tyndall and 
Huxley concerning the new ideas of Darwinism, we have 
been familiar with the conception of the evolution of man 
as beginning with a tiny speck of protoplasm and cul- 
minating in the present highly differentiated organism. 
We have been told that this process which has brought 
man to his present state is one which has required 
geological periods of time, and it has seemed to me that 318 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
it is not unreasonable to expect that future progress in 
this direction would also require periods of time incal- 
culably long. The prospects of the improvement of 
man to be accomplished through such a slow process as 
this, have offered little practical encouragement to the 
layman like myself. In his recent book, ‘ The Direc- 
tion of Human Evolution,’ Conklin expresses the view 
that ‘ The intellectual evolution of the individual has 
virtually come to an end.’ Whether this process has 
come to an end, or whether it is one which requires aeons 
of time for its accomplishment, the practical result is the 
same. The solution of the problems now confronting 
humanity cannot be found in a process so slow that, 
before it can operate, our present civilization might be 
destroyed or disappear. 
“ But this does not leave us in such a hopeless posi- 
tion as it might seem at first, for Conklin goes on to say: 
1 The intellectual evolution of groups of individuals is 
only at its beginning.’ And further on he remarks: 
‘ But if the evolution of the human individual has come 
to an end, certainly the evolution of human society has 
not. In social evolution a new path of progress has been 
found, the end of which no one can foresee.’ 
“ Concerning the marvelous possibilities of this new 
path of evolution, Trotter, in his work ‘ Instincts of the 
Herd in Peace and War,’ uses this remarkable language, 
in speaking of man as the unit of that gregarious entity 
known as human society: ‘ Nevertheless the needs and 
capacities that were at work in the primeval amoeba 
are at work in him. In his very flesh and bones is the MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
319 
impulse towards closer and closer union in larger and 
larger fellowships. Today he is fighting his way toward 
that goal, fighting for the perfect unit which Nature has 
so long foreshadowed, in which there shall be a complete 
communion of its members, unobstructed by egoism or 
hatred, by harshness or arrogance or the wolfish lust for 
blood. That perfect unit will be a new creature, recog- 
nizable as a single entity; to its million-minded power 
and knowledge no barrier will be insurmountable, no 
gulf impassable, no task too great.’ 
“ If I understand the situation correctly, the evolution 
of the new creature thus portrayed by Trotter will not 
require geological ages of time, but can take place during 
periods which constitute the life of nations. The new 
evolution requires not changes in the type of man, but 
intellectual changes which can take place with startling 
rapidity. 
“ The problem, therefore, seems to be to ascertain the 
laws which should govern the development of this new 
entity. But first of all and most important of all we 
should know the laws governing the development of the 
human personality itself. Conklin says: ‘ The Evolu- 
tion of man is no longer limited to his body or mind, nor 
even to society, but by adding to his own powers the 
forces of nature, man has entered upon a new path of 
progress. . . . This new path of progress is in all respects 
the most important which has ever been discovered by 
organisms, and no one can foresee the end of this process 
of annexing to our powers the illimitable forces of the 
universe.’ 320 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
“ My idea of the direction of scientific research is that 
man should go on annexing to his own powers the forces of 
nature but that he should employ these increased powers 
in solving the problem of human personality. When 
this problem is solved the problem of society is solved. 
As the problem of this Committee in its broadest aspects 
is the problem of human personality, it follows, according 
to my view, that the work you have undertaken is 
probably the most important of all, and in its widest 
aspects must draw upon the results of all the researches 
of science. Towards the solution of your problems, all 
the activities of science should be made to converge, and 
the most generous financial support should be provided.” 
Dr. Duggan: “ I think we all know from our personal 
experience how mental hygiene has lately come to the 
front. We are getting all sorts of reactions now from 
the widespread use of the intelligence tests. In a recent 
book its author calls attention to the intelligence tests 
in the U. S. Army as a result of which, we are told, 60 per 
cent of the American people have a mentality of 13 years 
of age. The unfortunate thing is that he not only says 
that of American people but that the other peoples 
have still a lower mentality. I suppose that things of 
that kind, wrong conclusions from good activities, can 
do more evil than really bad activities can do. I mean 
these books which are going forward derogating other 
peoples because they are not of our type, are having a 
very pernicious influence in the world. So that every 
movement such as this international movement will tend 
to bring together people from other countries and our- MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
321 
selves in the study of some scientific problem and in that 
way something may, I think, be done to remove some 
of this ill feeling. 
“ I don’t know whether Mr. Muniz, who is going to 
speak to us now, is going to tell us what can be done. 
I do know, however, that he, a native of Brazil, acted 
as interpreter for Dr. Gustavo Riedel, at interviews 
when Dr. Riedel met Dr. Williams, and later, Mr. Beers, 
and can tell us what was said. Dr. Riedel is Director- 
General of the Government Hospital for the Insane and 
Director of the Institute for Prophylaxis of Nervous and 
Mental Diseases at Rio de Janeiro. I take pleasure in 
introducing Mr. Manuel Muniz, who represents Dr. 
Riedel at this meeting.” 
Mr. Muniz: “1 will try to express myself as best I can. 
First of all, I am not a professional man and am not 
familiar with your work. But I will try to interpret 
Dr. Riedel’s impression of America and what he came 
here for and how sorry he was that he was unable to 
remain for this meeting. One thing is sure. Dr. Riedel 
went back to Brazil on December 9th, very much pleased 
because he had the opportunity of meeting the great Mr. 
Beers, as he called him. In his works he mentions Mr. 
Beers quite extensively and another thing that he 
wanted was Mr. Beers’s picture. He says that in his 
Institute he has the name and picture of Pinel on the 
wall on one side of the entrance and the name of Mr. 
Beers on the other wall, but he didn’t have Mr. Beers’s 
picture, so we managed to get one. 
“ Dr. Riedel came up representing the Brazilian Gov- 322 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
ernment at the Sixth Latin-American Medical Congress 
held in Havana on the 19th of November. At that 
Congress several things were discussed and organized 
and one of the things organized through Dr. Riedel was 
a Sub-Committee on Mental Hygiene. The first meeting 
of that Committee will be held in 1925 in Mexico City at 
the next meeting of the Latin-American Medical Con- 
gress. Each one of the Latin-American countries will 
send two delegates representing mental hygiene to that 
Congress in 1925. 
“ Dr. Riedel also was very pleased to know that Mr. 
Beers had started this international movement for mental 
hygiene. He said also that he would be only too glad 
to be of any assistance he can to Mr. Beers in the inter- 
national work. When Dr. Riedel came to the United 
States, one of the very first things he asked me was how 
could he meet Mr. Beers. I said very simply, that one 
place we could get information about this Mr. Beers 
would be the Rockefeller Foundation. If he is so promi- 
nent he will be known there. So together we got an 
introduction to Dr. Williams and Dr. Salmon and 
through Dr. Williams we then met Mr. Beers, just on 
the morning Dr. Riedel sailed, last Saturday. Dr. 
Riedel feels that Mr. Beers is the pioneer of mental 
hygiene and he also believes that this country is the 
birth-place of mental hygiene and it is due to Mr. Beers. 
Pinel in the past and Mr. Beers in the future. He also 
asked me before he left once more to thank you, Dr. 
Russell, for the courtesy that you extended to him when 
he visited your institution.” MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
323 
Dr Duggan: “ This program, as you may have sus- 
pected, has been leading up to what Mr. Beers will tell 
us about the present status of the plans for an active and 
financed ‘ International Committee ’ and, we hope, for 
an International Congress of Mental Hygiene along 
the lines indicated by the previous speakers. Mr. Beers 
is the initiator not only of the national and state move- 
ment for mental hygiene in this country but also of the 
plan for an International Committee and a World Con- 
gress of Mental Hygiene. 
“ Many of us here were present at the initial ‘ Inter- 
national ’ meeting held on February 4, 1919, at the home 
of Dr. Walter B. James in this city, at which Mr. Beers, 
with characteristic vision and zeal, outlined the plan for 
international activities and forecast their possibilities. 
Some of those present on that occasion thought that the 
time for launching an international movement was not 
yet ripe. This was to be expected. No pioneer ever 
carries all of his audience with him, but Mr. Beers car- 
ried many of us to the heights where the view and possi- 
bilities he saw were discernible. Events of the past 
four years have vindicated his judgment in this im- 
portant matter. Without any artificial stimulation 
there is now widespread interest in these international 
plans. 
“ I know of no better way to introduce Mr. Beers who 
in his early thirties became the founder of the mental 
hygiene movement than to quote some of the things 
said about him fifteen years later by Professor William 
Lyon Phelps when Yale University, in June, 1922, con- 324 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
ferred upon him an honorary degree. 1 His life,’ 
Professor Phelps said, ‘ has been filled with spiritual 
adventures. He is the author of a book apparently 
destined to become a classic, “ A Mind That Found 
Itself.” In this, with unmatched eloquence of sincerity, 
he has described his terrific experiences in that obscure 
border-land beyond the bounds of sanity. On his 
return to the world of causation, instead of trying to 
forget his sufferings, he determined to use them for the 
benefit of mankind. Besides the extraordinary influence 
of his book, both in the field of literature and human 
helpfulness, Mr. Beers has labored incessantly for the 
cause of mental hygiene. No explorer on land or sea 
has shown more inflexible courage than has Mr. Beers 
in penetrating beyond the frontiers of orderly thought.’ 
When President Angell conferred the honorary degree 
he said it was ‘ For indomitable courage and devotion 
in turning to the enduring benefit of mankind experi- 
ences that have driven most sufferers to silence and 
seclusion.’ Mr. Beers will now talk to us.” 
Mr. Beers: “ Before speaking to the topic of the day— 
the international plans—may I let those present know 
that the very pleasing but somewhat embarrassing 
account of my interview with Dr. Riedel of Rio de 
Janeiro, as reported by Mr. Muniz, is taken by me in a 
properly humble spirit? I have not only a lively sense 
of appreciation but also a saving sense of humor. To 
be referred to, especially before this group of intimates, 
as ‘ the great Mr. Beers ’ is a bit premature to say the 
least, even if Dr. Riedel does feel that way about me. MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
325 
I can best indicate my reaction to these encomiums so 
graciously offered by Mr. Muniz, by quoting what Mr. 
Kingsbury whispered to me while Mr. Muniz was speak- 
ing: ‘ Better to sit in the back row and be discovered 
than to sit in the front row and be found out!’ Frankly, 
I don’t mind being ‘ discovered ’ after working as I have 
for more than fifteen years as a pioneer in mental 
hygiene. There is, of course, personal satisfaction in 
having one’s work recognized, but greater satisfaction 
is to be found in the thought that personal recognition 
means that the cause one represents has won a place 
for itself at home and abroad. I shall gladly accept 
all honors that come my way for they give me prestige 
and enable me to be more effective. Prestige is power— 
in health work as in politics. The opinion held of me 
by a resident of Brazil makes me think that at our next 
meeting I shall try to have representatives present from 
even more distant countries. Thus, in time, I may be 
a prophet not without honor in a number of places in 
my own country. 
“ I wish quickly to give you a glimpse of interest exist- 
ing in all countries where mental hygiene work is known 
about at all. National Committees operating under that 
name are at work in the United States, Canada and South 
Africa. There are National Leagues for Mental Hygiene 
already organized and doing work in France and Bel- 
gium. A National Council for Mental Hygiene is in 
process of formation in Great Britain. The forerunner 
of a National Committee in Australia has taken form 
as a Section on Mental Hygiene in the Australian Public 326 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
Health Association. Interest in organizing a National 
League, or Council or Committee exists in Italy and 
Spain, and the situation is such in a number of countries, 
among them Holland, Denmark, Norway, and Sweden, 
that national organizations for mental hygiene can be 
established, also in Brazil where Dr. Riedel will soon 
form a National Committee or League. 
“ The growth of interest in these countries has been 
a natural one. The Canadian National Committee, the 
founding of which in 1918 marked the beginning of 
international work, came about as a result of a talk that 
Dr. Hincks and I had at our office in this city. Dr. 
Hincks went home and aroused interest in the plan and 
later I had the privilege of helping to secure funds for the 
first three years of work of the Canadian National Com- 
mittee. The second National Committee—the one in 
South Africa—came into existence as a result of cor- 
respondence with our office, carried on by Dr. Williams 
at first and later by myself when the question of or- 
ganizing arose. The French League was the indirect 
result of an informal talk I gave before the New York 
Neurological Society in 1920. My remarks were pub- 
lished in the Journal of Nervous and Mental Diseases, 
and a physician in Paris wrote and asked me for further 
information. I, of course, followed up this opening 
with the result that there is now a fully organized, 
though as yet inadequately financed, League in France. 
Dr. Ley has told you how, as a result of a talk, I left 
him with the feeling that a national organization should 
be established in Belgium and how they in that country MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
327 
now have a National League. The plan for organizing 
a National Committee in Australia is the direct result 
of talks which Dr. Hincks in Canada and I, in New York, 
had with Professor E. Morris Miller of Hobart, Tas- 
mania, and Dr. Ralph A. Noble, of Sydney, New South 
Wales. The British National Council for Mental 
Hygiene formally founded last May at London, is now 
completing its organization and will soon be ready for 
active work. Several individuals have been interested 
in this plan, among them being Dr. C. H. Bond, Sir 
Walter Fletcher, Dr. Helen Boyle, Sir Maurice Craig, 
Sir Frederick Mott and Sir Courtauld Thomson. 
“ It would not be quite accurate to say that all of the 
organizing work is the result of my efforts. Others 
helped, especially psychiatrists connected with the 
National Committees in this country and Canada, but 
I was the one who talked only one subject: Organizing 
and financing new agencies on a national basis. No 
person from a foreign country who is in a position to 
help establish a National Committee or its equivalent 
can come near me without risk of being sensitized on the 
question of organizing. That is one of my functions as 
General Secretary of the Organizing Committee of the 
International Committee. 
“ Not without interest is the cost of doing the organ- 
izing work that has been accomplished, and the source 
of the money for this preliminary work. The expenses 
have been paid from a fund of $5,000 contributed early 
in February, 1919, by the late Mrs. Elizabeth Milbank 
Anderson, for use in meeting the preliminary expenses 328 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
of organizing the International Committee. With less 
than half of that gift, all that I have described has been 
accomplished and more that I haven’t time to tell about. 
Those who have helped in foreign countries have had 
small amounts given them for necessary incidental 
expenses, all told not more than $1,000. The sum of 
$500 was given to introduce occupational therapy in the 
Government Hospital for the Insane at Panama—this 
being considered an international activity—and about 
$1,000 has been expended in other ways. 
“ The personnel of the various national organizations 
is of the highest. Men and women, no matter how 
highly placed or how burdened with obligations pre- 
viously assumed, are willing to break their rule and accept 
official positions with mental hygiene organizations or 
membership in the Boards of Directors and inner com- 
mittees. Why? Because they seem to feel that past 
neglect of the insane and feebleminded and failure to 
work for prevention morally obligates everyone to 
further the movement and so help solve problems which 
never have received deserved attention. 
“ An important task is the founding of an International 
Committee for Mental Hygiene. That can best be 
accomplished, it is thought, in connection with an 
International Congress of Mental Hygiene. One of 
the purposes of this meeting today is to take formal 
action on the plan for holding such a Congress. We 
have no option in this matter. We are obligated to hold 
such a Congress for we have told the French League for 
Mental Hygiene, which generously set aside an Inter- MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
329 
national Congress which it had tentatively planned to 
hold at Paris last June, that the Organizing Committee 
of the International Committee had already made moves 
toward holding the First International Congress in the 
United States, probably in 1924. Representatives from 
several countries who attended the meetings held at 
Paris last June under the auspices of the French League 
were told of this plan, and, as Dr. Ley has made plain, 
they are awaiting the announcement of our plans. 
“ Unless someone speaks in opposition to this pro- 
posal, I shall assume that I may include in the minutes 
of this meeting a vote authorizing the Organizing Com- 
mittee of the International Committee to do whatever 
may be necessary to organize and finance the First Inter- 
national Congress of Mental Hygiene, to be held, if 
possible, in 1924, in the United States. Whether it will 
be best to hold it early in June or about the middle of 
November is still an open question. The plan for a 
Congress will probably include the formal founding of 
the International Committee during the International 
Congress. This can be made a great occasion. I recall 
that Dr. James once suggested that the ambassadors 
and ministers of the countries represented could perhaps 
be persuaded to attend and so give a truly international 
and official air to the event. Perhaps we can lure the 
President of the United States and high officials of other 
countries into coming! You never can tell—in mental 
hygiene work. 
“ There is not time to say much about the sort of 
International Congress we ought to hold. Suffice it to 330 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
say, we shall secure a consensus regarding plans and 
program before adopting them. Meetings, such as this 
today, will be held to which will be invited those who 
have planned and directed other international congresses. 
In this way we shall avoid mistakes and perhaps make 
our Congress notable for efficiency and usefulness. As 
I have not had experience in managing a Congress and 
will not have time anyway to attend to the mass of 
details that will require daily attention for many months, 
it will be necessary to employ a full-time worker for this 
task. If a large enough fund can be secured, delegates 
from various countries will have part or all of their 
traveling expenses paid. Furthermore, after arrival in 
this country and after the Congress is over, provided 
funds are available, these visitors will be taken about 
the country to see at first-hand institutions and branches 
of work in which they are especially interested. In this 
way, the best knowledge that we have to impart in this 
country will be absorbed and taken to other countries 
for use there just as we in the United States will profit 
through the advice of our foreign visitors. 
“ It seems only right on this occasion that I should 
run true to form and make a few predictions and visu- 
alize, as I see them, some of the possibilities of the Inter- 
national Committee for Mental Hygiene. The projected 
Congress will be but a passing phase of its work. Its 
chief purpose will be that of serving as a centre and 
clearing-house for information for all of the mental 
hygiene ‘ societies ’ of the world, also for other types of 
organizations, for individuals and institutions inter- MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
331 
ested in any phase of mental hygiene. In the same way 
that our National Committee serves as a co-ordinating 
agency and clearing house for information in this coun- 
try, so will the International Committee serve sim- 
ilarly for all countries that care to take part in the mental 
hygiene movement. 
“ Conferences and correspondence with representa- 
tives of existing mental hygiene organizations at home 
and abroad show that everyone believes that the office 
of the International Committee should be located in the 
United States (probably in New York) where the whole 
movement began. All of the accumulated material 
and studies of the (U. S.) National Committee for 
Mental Hygiene secured in connection with surveys 
during the past decade at considerable expense, are 
already accessible. Furthermore, reports of all kinds 
have begun to be received by the Organizing Committee 
from correspondents in foreign countries. Dr. Riedel 
of Rio de Janeiro has offered to forward a complete set 
of reports, together with plans and photographs of his 
very modern institution. It takes but little imagination 
to see that one day the office of the International Com- 
mittee will become a centre for information, similar in 
character to the offices of other international agencies. 
At the initial meeting of the Organizing Committee held 
in February, 1919, I pictured an ‘ International Insti- 
tute,’ to serve as the headquarters for the International 
Committee and a centre for international mental 
hygiene activities. A rather large order, no doubt, but 
one quite within the realm of possibilities. For what, 332 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
anyway, is an c Institute ’ but a centre, preferably under 
a roof of its own, with funds enough to insure the per- 
manency of its work? 
“ Convincing proof of the need for an international 
centre of some kind, one linked to the movement as a 
whole, and of which people in all parts of the world are 
a part, came not long ago from South Africa. Dr. 
Duns ton, who is active in the National Committee 
there and who also is Commissioner on Mental Diseases 
for the Union of South Africa, wants the latest and most 
reliable information on intelligence tests, as used in the 
United States. I shall, through people who know this 
subject, be able to send him what he wants. No one 
person, whether he be a physician or not, can answer 
all questions, but the officers of an International Com- 
mittee can get authoritative answers to any question 
by consulting the best known authorities and then trans- 
mitting the information in the name of the International 
Committee to the applicant for advice, giving specific 
credit to the one who furnishes the information. Hono- 
rariums might well be paid to experts who supply infor- 
mation on given subjects thus making it unnecessary to 
maintain a large and expensive permanent staff in the 
beginning. The great problem before us is that of 
financing the Congress and the International Com- 
mittee. I feel confident this can be done. 
“ Before closing, some business must be transacted. 
It can be done very quickly provided I am authorized 
to formulate the votes later and incorporate them in the 
minutes. Most important of all is the creating of a MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
333 
permanent Organizing Committee, with a permanent 
chairman and a permanent secretary. The form and 
size of the permanent Organizing Committee was dis- 
cussed informally before luncheon by a number of us. 
It was the opinion that the temporary Organizing Com- 
mittee is too large to function; and it was also the 
thought that the members of the permanent Organizing 
Committee resident in Canada and the United States 
should be given full power to do whatever may be neces- 
sary to complete the International Committee and 
arrange for the First International Congress. Center- 
ing the power to act in this way will prevent delays. 
Dr. Genil-Perrin, Secretary of the French League, who 
served as Secretary General of the Congress of Paris, 
held in June, 1922, will be asked to enlist the interest 
of leaders in various European countries in the projected 
International Congress. The proposed permanent 
Organizing Committee will, of course, be added to from 
time to time under rules that it will adopt to cover all 
contingencies. It was further decided that a Group 
of Advisers should be created containing a fairly large 
number familiar with one or another of the problems 
to be considered. Then, when advice on a given sub- 
ject is needed, all Advisers who have special knowledge 
to offer will be invited to attend a meeting or luncheon 
or dinner at which a given plan is to be formulated. 
Advice will also be sought through correspondence. 
“ May I thank everyone for coming and making it 
possible to plan the next moves in the international work? 334 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
We can now proceed without delay and with every 
assurance of success.” 
Dr. Duggan: “ It is assumed that the recommendations 
offered are acceptable. They will, therefore, be incor- 
porated in the minutes in the form of votes. 
“I have always heard that a cause is something in 
the nature of an abstraction and that in order to realize 
what the cause is it must be wound around some per- 
sonality. I think that explains the tremendous success 
of the mental hygiene movement. After listening to 
Mr. Beers this afternoon I can understand why he gets 
results.” 
Note.—Members of the permanent Organizing Committee and a list 
of the Advisers appear on concluding pages of this book. II 
Ten Years of Work 
As the work of The National Committee for Mental 
Hygiene is for the most part of a medical nature, the 
following account of its activities has been taken largely 
from statements prepared from time to time by Dr. 
Thomas W. Salmon, its Medical Director during the 
first “ ten years of work.” 
When the funds were secured that enabled the Com- 
mittee to commence active work in 1912, the outlook for 
a successful movement in this new field of health and 
social work presented many disheartening features. 
While the treatment of other disorders had been practi- 
cally revolutionized during the last one hundred years 
and, during the last twenty years, the popular distrust of 
general hospitals had practically disappeared, the treat- 
ment of mental diseases was just emerging from a very 
long period of neglect and inhumanity. Even among 
educated persons in the most civilized countries mental 
diseases were often regarded as visitations coming from 
unknown causes and the insane as persons to be treated 
with a certain consideration because they were still 
human beings—but quite beyond the possibility of 
restoration to health. In medical schools (except in one 
or two foreign countries), psychiatry occupied a place 
335 336 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
too inconspicuous to give even the most thoughtful 
student more than an inkling of the vast field of mental 
medicine that existed. Great health movements which 
were avowedly general in their character gave no recog- 
nition at all to the fact that mental disease as well as 
physical disease might possibly be prevented. There 
existed no course of instruction in mental hygiene in 
any school, college or university and the literature on 
the preventive aspects of psychiatry was limited to a 
few dozen titles, many of which had little or no practical 
bearing upon the subject. Excellent reasons could have 
been advanced for deciding not to enter such an un- 
promising field. It was largely because of a realization 
of the great suffering which accompanies mental disease 
that those who organized the Committee decided not to 
put off making an attempt to reduce its aggregate 
amount. The notoriously slow growth of a more 
rational public attitude toward mental illness and the 
hygiene of mind seemed to them to call for prompt 
action rather than to justify delay. 
With the gift of $50,000 from Mr. Henry Phipps, which 
maintained the work for the first three years, The 
National Committee for Mental Hygiene, in March, 1912, 
entered the field of organized preventive medicine. It 
seemed, however, to those who were responsible for its 
pioneer work, that it would be idle to attempt to popu- 
larize information regarding the preventable causes of 
mental disease while the subject itself was one which 
could hardly be discussed because of the prejudice and 
misinformation that were so prevalent. At a time when MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
337 
a large proportion of persons suffering from some of the 
most serious of all diseases were abandoned almost from 
the earliest appearance of symptoms to the care of 
ignorant custodians, when the law itself placed a stigma 
of hopelessness and pauperism upon the very names of 
the disorders from which they suffered and made people 
shrink from acknowledging their existence, and when the 
background of prison, poorhouse and asylum was in 
many States scarcely disappearing into the past, it 
would have been useless to advocate the recognition in 
childhood of traits tending toward mental disease, the 
establishment of mental hygiene clinics or the wide appli- 
cation of recently discovered facts in mental medicine to 
such social problems as the management of delinquency, 
the classification and training of prisoners and the study 
of industrial problems. For this reason, the work of the 
first three years was almost wholly devoted to the 
attempt to promote, by means of carefully planned 
popular education, the growth of that better attitude 
toward mental illness and its problems which was already 
coming into existence with the general spread of humani- 
tarian ideals. 
In the autumn of 1912 an International Congress on 
Hygiene and Demography was held in Washington. A 
mental hygiene exhibit was carefully prepared during 
the preceding summer with the aid of many experts in 
special fields of work. The incidence, cost and social 
significance of mental disease and mental deficiency 
and the fields of preventive effort were presented in a 
graphic and striking form to a large number of persons 338 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
engaged in health and social work. This exhibit won 
a Diploma of Superior Merit. At the International 
Congress, mental hygiene appeared for the first time in 
a program of meetings devoted to hygiene and sani- 
tation and the “Mental Hygiene Movement/’ as a 
newly organized endeavor to combat disease, received 
formal recognition in the United States. Later the 
exhibit was shown at a series of mental hygiene meet- 
ings in various cities throughout the country. At the 
Panama Pacific Exposition at San Francisco it was 
awarded a Grand Prize. 
Even with the limited funds available during the first 
three years, an attempt was made by means of surveys to 
ascertain the actual conditions under which mental 
diseases were treated in several States and to acquaint 
the people of those States with the facts disclosed. 
These demonstrations opened the way for the important 
survey work done later. 
The most critical period of the newly launched work 
occurred in 1914 when the single appropriation (the gift 
of Mr. Phipps), upon which work had been commenced 
three years earlier, was all but expended. The question 
in the minds of all those who had shared in the hopes and 
fears of the initial work was, “ Has it been demonstrated 
that mental hygiene constitutes a practical field of 
effort?” The National Committee made no attempt to 
advertise itself, but tried simply to state the most urgent 
problems of mental hygiene as they appeared. As a 
result of the presentation of the field and of the needs of 
the organization, Mrs. Elizabeth Milbank Anderson and MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
339 
Mrs. William K. Vanderbilt, as stated elsewhere, tided 
the National Committee over this crisis in its affairs by 
contributing generously toward general expenses. Soon 
afterwards the Rockefeller Foundation began to con- 
tribute liberally for special studies and surveys. 
The year 1916 was one of rapid development. Among 
the important studies undertaken during that year 
were that of the Psychiatric Clinic at Sing Sing Prison; 
a survey of the incidence of mental deficiency in Nassau 
County, New York; and surveys of the care of mental 
diseases in the States of Georgia, Connecticut, Louisiana, 
Pennsylvania, Indiana, Colorado and California, and in 
the cities of Scranton and New York. Owing to the 
rapid growth of its work in behalf of the feebleminded, 
the National Committee appointed at this time a 
Committee on Mental Deficiency, of which Dr. Walter 
E. Fernald became chairman. Soon afterwards sur- 
veys of mental deficiency were begun in several States. 
The study at Sing Sing Prison made by Dr. Bernard 
Glueck demonstrated the vital importance of the mental 
factors involved in crime and delinquency. As a 
result, the need for psychiatric clinics in connection 
with prisons, reformatories and courts is now generally 
recognized. With funds made available by the Rocke- 
feller Foundation, assistance was given to the Psy- 
chiatric Clinic at the Children’s Court in New York 
City; the Police Department of a great city was assisted 
in organizing a Psychopathic Clinic; and a study of all 
the children in a truant school in one city was made. 
These activities recently led to the adoption of a plan for A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
340 
a Division on the Prevention of Juvenile Delinquency 
as a part of the work of the National Committee. 
During these first four years of work, the organizing of 
affiliated societies and committees for mental hygiene 
had been brought about in fifteen States. These agen- 
cies began to arouse interest in mental hygiene problems 
and several instituted social service in behalf of mental 
patients and their relatives. 
In 1917, the publication of a quarterly magazine, 
Mental Hygiene, was begun by the National Committee, 
under an editorial board, with Dr. Frankwood E. Wil- 
liams, who became Medical Director in 1922, as the 
active editor. This official journal of the organization 
and of the movement in this country has done much 
to popularize the subject of mental hygiene. A descrip- 
tion of the magazine and a list of publications of the 
National Committee appear in a later chapter. The 
reduced facsimile of a cover of the magazine on the 
opposite page gives an idea of its general contents. 
War Work 
Then came the war. The experience of our Allies 
showed those who had carefully studied medico-military 
problems since 1914 that mental and nervous dis- 
eases, especially the functional nervous disorders, termed 
“ psycho-neuroses,” play an enormous part in modern 
warfare. Even before the United States had formally 
entered the war it was realized that it was the duty of 
The National Committee for Mental Hygiene to lead 
the way in preparing to meet this new health problem of MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
341 
MENTAL 
HYGIENE 
VOL. V JULY, 1921 NO. 8 
CONTENTS 
The R6Ie of Situation in Psyohopathological Conditions... Esther Boring Richards 
Mental Hygiene in Industry c. Macfie Campbell 
Has Mental Hygiene a Practical Use in Industry? Boyd Filter 
Industrial Hygiene Wade Wright 
The Mental Hygiene Aspects of Illegitimacy Marion E. Kenworthy 
The Educational Value of Psyohiatrio Social Work.. Mary C..Jarrett 
Mental Health Clinics H. Douglas Singer 
The Significance of Spiritualism Clarence 0. Cheney 
laws Controlling Commitments to State Hospitals for Mental 
Diseases James V. May 
The State Psyohopathic Hospital Albert M. Barrett 
A Study of the Economic Status of Forty-one Paretic Patients 
and Their Families \tZitSSZ 
Records and Statistics in Occupational Therapy. .....Horatio M. Pollock 
Outline for a State Society of Mental Hygiene E. Stanley Abbot 
Social Facts Relative to Patients with Mental Diseases Edith M. Fnrbuah 
Elizabeth Milbank Anderson 
Abstracts Book Reviews Hotes and Comments 
Current Bibliography Dorothy E. Morrison 
PUBLISHED QUARTERLY BY 
THE NATIONAL COMMITTEE FOE MENTAL HYGIENE, INO. 
PUBLICATION OFFICE: 27 COLUMBIA ST., ALBANY, N. Y. 
Editorial Oitice: 370 Seventh Avenue, New York Cm 
Two Dollars a Year Fifty Cents A Copt 342 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
military service. A committee, consisting of the late 
Dr. Pearce Bailey, Dr. Stewart Paton and Dr. Salmon, 
presented to the Surgeons General of the Army and of 
the Navy plans for the organization of military neuro- 
psychiatric units, the early treatment and examination 
of mental patients and the elimination of recruits suf- 
fering from mental diseases, mental deficiency and nerv- 
ous disorders. 
At the request of General Gorgas, this committee of 
the National Committee visited the Texas border in 
March, 1917, to study the neuro-psychiatric problems 
presented in that relatively small mobilization of troops. 
It was apparent that more detailed information as to the 
nature and management of functional nervous disorders 
among soldiers was necessary and so, under an appropri- 
ation made by the Rockefeller Foundation, Dr. Salmon 
left in May, 1917, to secure first-hand information 
in Europe. Before his return, Dr. Bailey, then Chair- 
man of the War Work Committee of The National 
Committee for Mental Hygiene, was commissioned in 
the Medical Reserve Corps and assigned to duty as 
Chief of the Section of Neurology and Psychiatry in 
the Office of the Surgeon General of the Army, which 
Section later included Psychology, under Major Robert 
M. Yerkes. With the data which Dr. Salmon brought 
back, plans were rapidly prepared for raising and equip- 
ping neuro-psychiatric units. The contacts which the 
National Committee had secured with institutions and 
with physicians practicing neurology and psychiatry in 
the United States greatly facilitated the rapid mobiliza- MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
343 
tion of several hundred trained neuro-psychiatrists and 
several hundred nurses and attendants. The neuro- 
psychiatric examination of troops commenced before 
that of any other specialties and the first division sent to 
France had many insane, mentally defective and 
psycho-neurotic soldiers eliminated before their embarka- 
tion. These examinations were developed to such an 
extent that over 72,000 men were rejected from the draft 
army because of neuro-psychiatric disorders. Largely as 
a result of this remarkable work organized by Colonel 
Bailey, the rate of mental and nervous cases evacuated 
to the United States from France was less than that 
from any expeditionary force in history. The inci- 
dence of mental disease in the A. E. F. was one-third 
lower than the rate among the troops on the Mexican 
border in 1916. The total number of patients sent 
home for the neuroses (“shell-shock”) was a little over 
2,000. The rate for suicides in the A. E. F. was phe- 
nomenally low, being only one-tenth that in the Regular 
Army in 1915. The elimination of mentally defective 
and psychopathic soldiers in the camps at home was 
also a factor of prime importance in the remarkably low 
prevalence of serious crime in the A. E. F. Of the 
2,000,000 men who left this country for France only 
1,700 were returned as general prisoners. Not only 
was there much less crime in the A. E. F. than in the 
relatively unselected Regular Army, but there was less 
than in the civil population of the same group in size 
and age-period. 
In every medical activity of the Army at home the 344 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
problems of mental diseases received recognition. 
Base and general hospitals had neuro-psychiatric wards; 
psychiatric clinics were organized in all military prisons, 
in one of which a school of instruction was maintained; 
five civil centers were utilized for the instruction of 
medical officers in neuro-psychiatry; a school of instruc- 
tion for psychiatric social workers was established; 
co-operation was secured from State officials for the 
reception of men discharged from the Army for mental 
disabilities, and laws were passed in several States 
authorizing their voluntary admission to hospitals. 
In France, Colonel Salmon became Senior Consultant 
in Neuro-psychiatry to the A. E. F. and was instru- 
mental in organizing base and advanced hospitals for 
the treatment of mental and nervous disorders. The 
special hospital for war neuroses at Lafauche, France, 
was the first special base hospital to operate in the A. E. 
F. Colonel Bailey, who was later assisted in the office 
of the Surgeon General by Lt. Colonel Frankwood E. 
Williams of the staff of the National Committee, had 
secured President Wilson’s approval of the assignment 
of Division neuro-psychiatrists, the first specialists 
attached to Divisions, and in France the same decision 
was made. The result of having these highly trained 
officers serving with troops in combat, the provision of 
advanced hospitals a few miles from the firing lines for 
treatment of neuro-psychiatric patients, and the effects 
of the exclusion of thousands of potential mental patients 
from the draft army in the United States, resulted in the 
control of the prevalence of these disorders at the front MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
345 
to a degree which could not have been obtained in any 
other way. This conservation of man-power was recog- 
nized by General Pershing in a personal message of 
thanks, to Colonel Salmon, for what had been accom- 
plished by the Army neuro-psychiatrists at the front. 
The part played by The National Committee for 
Mental Hygiene in the war has been stated by Surgeon 
General Ireland as follows: “It (the occasion of the nth 
annual meeting of the National Committee in 1920) 
gives me a long-looked-for opportunity publicly to 
express my sincere thanks and appreciation for the 
untiring, loyal and constructive assistance given to the 
Medical Department of the Army by your Committee 
at a time when assistance was sorely needed. At no 
time has any request been made of your Committee 
that has not been freely granted so far as it was within 
your power. Beyond that everything possible was 
anticipated in a most thoroughly patriotic and far- 
seeing manner. A most striking assistance was the 
efforts of the Committee to keep up the morale of the 
personnel of the Neuro-psychiatric Service. With your 
help we have been able to meet almost every demand 
placed upon this service. The files of the War Depart- 
ment contain many records of noble work done by your 
members.” 
Reconstruction 
During the war The National Committee for Mental 
Hygiene had been able to make contributions which have 
been generally recognized as of very great importance. 346 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
Had there been no duties to be performed in connection 
with the returning disabled soldiers, the work of the 
National Committee could have been expanded at once 
along the new lines that were beginning to be developed 
toward the close of 1916. In its field, however, more 
than that of any other health agency, there remained 
serious problems of reconstruction. As has often been 
said, the country was as unprepared for peace as it had 
been for war. This was especially true in the provisions 
made for dealing with discharged soldiers, sailors and 
marines who suffered from mental and nervous diseases. 
A system of Governmental management, which has been 
universally condemned as inadequate, unscientific and 
administratively impossible, divided between three 
independent bureaus responsibility for the hospitaliza- 
tion, compensation and vocational training of disabled 
men. 
In this period of confusion, The National Committee 
for Mental Hygiene was able to render important ser- 
vices. Dr. Douglas A. Thom, who, from his experi- 
ence in France, was familiar with the problems of 
ex-service men suffering from mental and nervous 
diseases, was employed by the National Committee to 
visit large centers in all parts of the country for the 
purpose of gathering information that would be useful 
to Government officials dealing with the problem in 
Washington and to obtain local co-operation between 
the representatives of the American Red Cross, the U. S. 
Public Health Service, the Federal Board for Vocational 
Education, the Bureau of War Risk Insurance and the MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
347 
local civil hospitals and clinics in handling the immediate 
situation. Many patients benefited from this co-oper- 
ation between Government and local agencies. Where 
facilities did not exist, special clinics were organized. 
Through the advice of Dr. Thom, Division psychiat- 
rists were appointed to a number of the Administrative 
Divisions of the Red Cross dealing with ex-soldier 
relief. At the same time co-operation was further 
extended by the activities of Miss V. M. Macdonald, 
appointed by The National Committee for Mental 
Hygiene, for a temporary period, to assist local agencies 
throughout the country in obtaining the services of 
suitably trained psychiatric social workers. By means 
of a special fund donated by Mrs. Elizabeth Milbank 
Anderson, it became possible for the National Commit- 
tee to supply competent psychiatric social workers, for 
work among mentally disabled ex-service men, to the 
following communities: Philadelphia, Chicago, New 
Haven, Newark, St. Louis, Cleveland and St. Paul. 
During this period of neglect of disabled ex-service men, 
Mr. Norman Fenton, who had been on duty in France 
with Base Hospital 117 (Special Hospital for War 
Neuroses), was employed by the National Committee 
to follow up the cases discharged from that hospital. 
Through his services over a thousand of these men were 
reached at home and assisted in overcoming obstacles 
to their rehabilitation. 
In meeting the emergency described above, the 
National Committee realized fully that it was but tem- 
porizing with the details of a situation that was in itself 348 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
fundamentally wrong. Its chief efforts, therefore, were 
directed toward the correction of the basic evils respon- 
sible for the inadequate organization or mal-adminis- 
tration that existed. The Medical Director devoted his 
time largely to assisting those Government officials who 
were dealing with the larger aspects of the problem. A 
special Advisory Committee, consisting of Drs. Owen 
Copp, Hugh T. Patrick, H. Douglas Singer, Albert M. 
Barrett and Thomas W. Salmon, all members or officers 
of the National Committee, was appointed by the Sur- 
geon General of the Public Health Service to assist in 
the solution of the neuro-psychiatric problem. This 
committee studied the situation carefully, submitted 
recommendations containing a comprehensive plan for 
the care and treatment of mentally afflicted ex-service 
men and women, visited Public Health Service hospitals 
in various parts of the country, and made every effort 
to assist that Department of the Government in its work 
of hospitalizing sick and disabled beneficiaries of the 
Bureau of War Risk Insurance. This Advisory Com- 
mittee resigned in July, 1920, when it became convinced 
that there were fundamental differences of policy between 
the Surgeon General of the Public Health Service and 
itself. The same committee was later invited to advise 
the Bureau of War Risk Insurance in a similar capacity. 
About this time the Marion National Sanatorium 
(formerly the National Home for Disabled Volunteer 
Soldiers in Indiana) was opened for the care and treat- 
ment of mental and nervous cases among ex-service 
men, largely through the instrumentality of the Advisory MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
349 
Committee mentioned. This institution is now func- 
tioning with about 500 beds, and when the work of 
construction and expansion is completed, it will have 
a capacity of 1,000 beds. More recently The National 
Committee for Mental Hygiene was freely consulted 
in the work of reorganizing the Government Bureaus 
dealing with ex-service men and recently the Committee 
on Hospitalization of the Treasury Department, super- 
vising the expenditure of the $18,600,000 appropriated 
by the Congress for hospitals for sick and disabled ex- 
soldiers, invited The National Committee for Mental 
Hygiene to co-operate with it in laying out an adequate 
hospital building program. Dr. Salmon spent a great 
deal of time in Washington assisting the National Hos- 
pitalization Committee of the American Legion in the 
most important work that has so far been done for the 
disabled ex-service men. 
It may be said that had The National Committee for 
Mental Hygiene done no other work since its founding 
than that done in connection with the war and during the 
period of reconstruction, it would have more than 
justified its existence. Indeed, much of the neuro- 
psychiatric work of the war could not have been done at 
all, owing to the need for prompt action, had not this 
unofficial, civil agency been actively in operation when 
war was declared. 
While carrying on its reconstruction work since the 
war, the National Committee has been vigorously con- 350 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
ducting surveys of the care and treatment of the insane 
and feebleminded. Surveys of mental disease in two of 
the largest cities in the country revealed unbelievable 
conditions, which are now being corrected. In New 
Jersey, a State-wide survey of mental diseases has been 
made. Surveys of the care of the feebleminded have 
been made in Georgia, Tennessee, Mississippi, Alabama, 
South Carolina, Missouri, Maryland, West Virginia, 
Wisconsin and in Hamilton County, Ohio. These have 
had far-reaching results. In most instances, new laws 
have been enacted and appropriations totaling several 
millions of dollars for new institutions have been voted. 
The future usefulness of the National Committee 
is reflected in the following summary of what has been 
accomplished since it began work. Ten years ago 
there was a discouraging lack of public interest in even 
the humanitarian care of those ill from nervous and 
mental diseases. Such information as was current 
among the general public as to the causes of these dis- 
eases, their nature and course was largely misinformation; 
students were allowed to graduate from medical schools 
with practically no knowledge of and no interest in psy- 
chiatry; the early manifestations of these diseases were 
entirely unrecognized; to be cared for even in an asylum 
a patient must needs be “dangerously mad”; the rela- 
tionship between the early manifestations of nervous and 
mental disorders, delinquency, dependency and general 
social inefficiency was scarcely even suspected by leaders 
Summary MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
351 
in the professional groups dealing with these problems; 
annually, meetings were held by national bodies which 
discussed various social problems, but with little under- 
standing or realization of the importance of the personal 
equation. 
To-day asylums are becoming hospitals; names are 
changed—from “ State Insane Asylum ” to “ State 
Hospital for Mental Diseases”; from “ State Board of 
Insanity ” to “ State Commission for Mental Hygiene ” 
(and these changes are not merely changes in name). 
The State of Connecticut has established a Division of 
Mental Hygiene in its Department of Health, and 
other States are planning to do so. The City of New- 
ark has a Bureau of Mental Hygiene, and other cities 
will soon have such bureaus. Through changes in 
State laws, voluntary and temporary care, observation, 
emergency care and hospital facilities are being made 
more accessible. Out-patient departments and mental 
hygiene clinics are being organized and extended so 
that expert local facilities may be at the service of the 
community. Care and treatment in many hospitals have 
improved and the number who annually recover from 
mental illness increases. More attention is being 
focussed upon the early manifestations of mental illness; 
and the relationship between these early conditions and 
delinquency, dependency and social maladjustment 
generally are now recognized. With this recognition 
has come the establishment of psychiatric clinics in 
juvenile courts and the extension of these clinics to adult 
courts. Furthermore, similar clinics are being estab- 352 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
lished in prisons and reformatories. Many States which 
had no special institutions for the feebleminded have 
established them, and soon all States will have such 
institutions. Organizations dealing with delinquent 
and dependent children, instead of planning, in a blind 
sort of way, for placing out children, are seeking to 
understand the special mental disabilities and aptitudes 
of children. Universities and colleges, reflecting student 
interest, are forming courses in mental hygiene; and 
normal schools are organizing courses in the mental 
hygiene of childhood. Collections of books and pam- 
phlets on mental hygiene have been made and are now 
accessible to the public. Statistics on mental disease 
have been made uniform in this country and similar work 
is being done with reference to mental deficiency. Schools 
of social work are giving instruction in mental hygiene 
and in the two largest schools of the country a course in 
mental hygiene is required for graduation. A per- 
manent Division of Mental Hygiene has been estab- 
lished by the National Conference of Social Work and the 
meetings of this division are among those which attract 
the largest audiences at the Conference. Social agencies 
dealing with various aspects of human problems have 
felt the need not only of workers with some knowledge of 
mental hygiene, but of workers with very special knowl- 
edge and, to supply these, courses for the training of 
psychiatric social workers have been established. Indus- 
try has become interested and special researches have 
been undertaken by such organizations as the New York 
Engineering Foundation, and a national federation for MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
353 
the study of industrial personnel has been organized, 
of which The National Committee for Mental Hygiene 
is a member. This interest that has permeated various 
fields of activity has reacted upon the medical schools 
and is bringing about more adequate teaching of psychi- 
atry and the development of clinics; and, in turn, has 
led to a definite plan, now being put into effect, of endow- 
ing chairs of psychiatry in medical schools and providing 
adequate teaching facilities. 
Societies for Mental Hygiene, affiliated with the 
National Committee, have been organized in twenty 
States, plans for organizing them in six other States are 
now under way, and groups interested in plans for 
organizing such societies exist in a number of other 
States, as indicated by the map which appears on 
page 357. Leading citizens in the various States, 
appreciating the need for organized mental hygiene 
work, willingly serve as members of the directorates 
of these societies. It is evident that in time all States will 
have such indispensable social agencies, or their equiva- 
lent, at work within their borders. Owing to the diffi- 
culty of securing adequate funds for the proper develop- 
ment of their pioneer work, some of the State Societies 
are not yet able to employ full-time medical directors 
or psychiatric social workers. But even these organiza- 
tions are able to exert a helpful influence and through 
them persons in need of advice can usually be aided. 
Through those societies and committees which have 
been able to employ salaried workers, thousands of 
people, during the past few years, have been helped. 354 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
It may be said that work in prevention can never be 
done with full efficiency until all State Societies are 
adequately staffed and financed, since it is the State 
agency and its local committees that can best reach the 
individual when advice and guidance are most needed. 
Work done in mental hygiene in the United States 
has led to similar work in other countries. At the back 
of this book, lists of the officers and members of the 
national committees, leagues, councils and societies will 
be found; also a directory of organizations. 
Popular Education 
The principal reason for the slow advance in the care 
of the insane and the feebleminded is the amazing lack 
of general knowledge regarding mental diseases and 
mental deficiency and the needs of those suffering from 
them. Therefore, it is an important part of the work to 
stimulate popular interest in the welfare of these suf- 
ferers who have been singularly neglected and thus lay 
the groundwork for the creation of local agencies 
capable of carrying on effective work for betterment. 
Much has been accomplished toward this end during 
recent years and there is evidence of a rapidly growing 
interest in mental hygiene. The extension departments 
of several Western universities have taken up the subject 
and have issued pamphlets dealing with various phases 
of it. Some illustrations of this new interest are the 
inclusion of a chapter on mental hygiene in textbooks 
and general works, and the appearance of a number of MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
355 
ORGANIZED 
BEING ORGANIZED 
PROJECTED 
STATE SOCIETIES 
THE NATIONAL. COWVTTEE 
/CENTAL 'KfQtENE 
So UNION OOUAKE 
NEW YORK CITY 356 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
articles on the subject in the popular magazines. The 
National Committee has been requested on several occa- 
sions to arrange symposiums in connection with impor- 
tant conferences and to outline courses of lectures on 
mental hygiene for use in schools, colleges and uni- 
versities. A number of articles upon subjects related to 
mental hygiene have been referred for criticism. No 
efforts are spared in giving advice of this sort, for it is 
felt that the harm which can be done by the circulation 
of misleading information makes it a duty to aid in the 
preparation of such articles. 
Library 
In its educational work, a valuable library of approx- 
imately one thousand books, twelve thousand pamphlets 
and one hundred and fifty sets of periodicals has been 
established by the National Committee. It is believed 
that this is the largest collection of material dealing with 
mental hygiene that has yet been assembled. Owing 
to the comparative newness of the subject, most of the 
material is in pamphlet form. The object has been to 
create a library that will be of use not only to physicians, 
but to laymen, especially to social workers. Hundreds 
of people have availed themselves of the privileges of 
the library. A useful service has consisted in the prep- 
aration of bibliographies on various phases of mental 
hygiene, in response to specific requests for such informa- 
tion. Miss M. Florence Wilson, now Librarian of the 
League of Nations, was the first librarian. Miss Mabel MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
357 
W. Brown, who succeeded her in 1916, served until 
1920, the period of greatest growth. 
The development of the library has been hampered 
through lack of funds for the purchase of new books. 
Several hundred have been listed for purchase when funds 
are available. The largest single acquisition of books 
came through a bequest from the late Dr. Morris Karpas, 
who died in France while in the Neuro-psychiatric Ser- 
vice of the A. E. F. In May, 1921, when the National 
Committee established new offices in the Penn Terminal 
Building (New York), in co-operation with a number of 
other national health agencies, its library was merged 
with the joint library which now serves all of the partici- 
pating organizations. The mental hygiene section of it, 
however, remains intact and will be developed under the 
direction of The National Committee for Mental Hy- 
giene, by which, of course, it is still owned. 
Statistics 
The Department of Information and Statistics, with 
Miss Edith M. Furbush in charge, has done notable 
work. It has assembled a vast amount of data relating 
to legislation affecting the insane, feebleminded and 
epileptic in all States. There has been a wide and steady 
demand for these laws and information concerning them. 
Since 1917, the National Committee for Mental 
Hygiene has been promoting the adoption of a standard 
classification of mental diseases and a uniform statis- 
tical system in hospitals for mental diseases. Statis- 358 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
tical guides, record cards, and tabular forms are fur- 
nished to co-operating hospitals. Similar activities have 
been in progress since 1920 for institutions for the 
feebleminded. In these two projects, the Committee 
has had the co-operation of the American Psychiatric 
Association and the American Association for the Study 
of the Feebleminded. As a result, it is now possible to 
compare the reports of about one hundred institutions 
in this country in which mental cases are cared for and 
present dependable findings. Census studies of the 
institutions in this country caring for insane, feeble- 
minded and epileptic persons were made in 1917, 1918, 
and 1920 by The Department of Information and 
Statistics. These studies were published in the quart- 
erly magazine, Mental Hygiene. This Department is 
now co-operating with the Federal Census Bureau in a 
similar census study. 
Mental Hygiene Conventions 
A distinctive feature of the work of the year 1914 
was the holding of the First Convention of Societies for 
Mental Hygiene, under the auspices of the National 
Committee. This convention consisted of two public 
meetings, held at Baltimore on Monday, May 25th, 
1914. Active workers of ten Societies and Committees 
for Mental Hygiene took part in the afternoon session, 
which had been arranged for the especial purpose of 
enabling the active workers to learn what others engaged 
in similar work were doing in their respective fields. 
In the evening the work of the National Committee MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
359 
was the chief topic for discussion. The Second Con- 
vention of Societies for Mental Hygiene was held at 
New Orleans in April, 1916. The Third Convention 
was held at New York in February, 1920. An increased 
number of State societies and two National Committees, 
representing this country and Canada, participated. 
This extraordinary progress, in which The National 
Committee for Mental Hygiene has played either a 
direct or an indirect part, directly influences many thou- 
sands of human lives and directly diminishes a vast 
amount of human suffering. Ten years ago a handful 
of specialists were interested in these problems. To-day 
it is probably safe to say that there is not a leader in any 
profession that deals with problems of the individual but 
realizes, or is beginning to realize, that the mental aspects 
of the problem with which he deals cannot be ignored. 
It seems only fair to those who had the idealism to com- 
mence this work and to carry it on in spite of very great 
obstacles, and to those who helped finance the work, 
that these achievements should be far more generally 
known. They afford a safe guarantee for success in the 
work which lies directly ahead. 
Magnitude of Problems 
Mental Diseases 
It has been proposed to abandon the term “insanity” 
in medicine. If this were done, “ the insane ” would 
consist only of people with mental diseases who, in addi- 
tion, suffer from some such legal disability as enforced 360 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
detention in an institution or deprivation of certain civil 
rights. Though many mentally sick persons, unfortu- 
nately, would still be insane, the majority would not be. 
Not only mental diseases among those who are not 
“insane” (to use this word in the sense proposed), but 
other disorders that are classified as mental diseases only 
for convenience have come into the field of psychiatry. 
Mental deficiency—with its enormously important radia- 
tions into poverty, delinquency and crime—lies to-day 
very largely within the field of psychiatry as do the 
psycho-neuroses, which originate, run their course and 
end in the home, the school, the factory and the military 
camp. 
Very few people realize what a vast domain in medicine 
is actually filled by the three groups of mental disorders 
that have just been mentioned. At the end of the year 
1922, there were in this country approximately 250,000 
patients in hospitals for mental diseases, cared for during 
that year at a cost of approximately $75,000,000. The 
number of insane in institutions almost equals the total 
number of patients in all the general hospitals in the 
United States. In the Army and Navy, mental diseases 
have for many years occupied first or second place in 
discharges for disability. States that make full pro- 
vision for the care of mental diseases in public institutions 
spend more for this purpose than they do for any other, 
except education. In the State of New York, in 1919, 
one death in twenty-two in the whole adult population 
occurred in a hospital for the insane. Suicide, which in a 
recent study in Massachusetts, was shown to be due in MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
361 
fifty-eight per cent of cases to well defined mental dis- 
orders, is increasing throughout the nation and in 1919 
was responsible for more deaths than scarlet fever, 
malaria and measles combined. At the end of the year 
1922, thirty-six per cent of all hospital patients cared 
for as beneficiaries of the Veterans’ Bureau were mental 
or nervous cases. 
No one knows how prevalent the psycho-neuroses are 
in the civil population. Some idea may be gained from 
half an hour’s consideration of fifty of the men, and their 
wives, whom you know best, reviewing in your mind the 
number of instances in which there has occurred, to your 
personal knowledge, some kind of “nervous breakdown” 
or other evidence of a psycho-neurotic reaction to the 
vicissitudes of life. In the World War, the psycho- 
neuroses, as everyone now knows, constituted a major 
medico-military problem in the armies of our Allies. 
Twenty per cent of the soldiers discharged for disability 
from the British Army had one or another of the dis- 
orders grouped under the terms “shell shock,” “neuras- 
thenia” or the better one of “war neurosis.” Our own 
military medical officers who were interested in the clin- 
ical aspects of chemical warfare told how the “gas neu- 
roses” bothered them in the gas hospitals near the front. 
The orthopedists described the weird aura of functional 
symptoms that surrounded undoubtedly organic cases 
and served to retard recovery or to increase disability. 
The internists gave a name suggesting effort rather than 
lack of it to the functional heart disorders of the soldier, 
but all of them agreed upon the essentially psycho- 362 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
neurotic nature of the reaction. In our army in France, 
the wave of war neuroses among combatant troops rose 
until it caused no little apprehension among line as well as 
medical officers and then, under a system of management 
based squarely upon a psycho-biological conception of 
the nature and genesis of functional nervous diseases, 
subsided until it ceased to threaten the morale of troops 
or to constitute a drain upon our over-taxed hospital 
facilities. In the camps in the United States, as Colonel 
Bailey has shown, these disorders played an even larger 
part than they did on the battlefields and in the base 
hospitals of France. 
Mental Deficiency 
It is conservatively estimated that there are in the 
United States at least 400,000 mentally deficient or, as 
they are more commonly called, feebleminded persons, of 
whom fewer than 50,000 are in institutions. It is believed 
that in the State of New York alone there are 40,000 
feebleminded persons outside of institutions. All of the 
feebleminded do not require institutional care, but a 
great increase in institutional provision is urgently 
needed throughout the country. Feeblemindedness is 
the largest single factor underlying chronic pauperism, 
dependency and habitual law-breaking among adult 
criminals. 
Delinquency 
Each year in this country alone about 500,000 men, 
women and children, at least half of whom are mentally MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
363 
disordered, mentally deficient or unstable individuals, 
pass through the courts into correctional institutions. 
The hand of the law falls not only upon this great army of 
convicted offenders, but also upon an undetermined, but 
certainly very large number of quite innocent persons 
who suffer shame, loneliness or destitution through the 
sudden loss of those upon whom they are in some measure 
dependent. Imprisonment of wage earners ranks with 
desertion, tuberculosis and mental diseases as a cause of 
dependence among young mothers and their children. 
The financial cost of imprisoning 500,000 persons each 
year is enormous, but it represents only a part of the 
cost of the effort which every community must con- 
stantly put forth to repress crime. 
Division on the Prevention of Delinquency 
Through a special gift from the Commonwealth Fund, 
as a part of its program for the study of methods for 
preventing delinquency, The National Committee for 
Mental Hygiene has been able to create a new depart- 
ment to be known as the Division on the Prevention 
of Delinquency. One of this Division’s activities will 
be to furnish upon request, free or on a cost-sharing 
basis, psychiatric service to a limited number of juvenile 
courts throughout the country. To each court in which 
it will be possible to render such aid will be assigned for 
a specified period a demonstration clinic staffed by a 
psychiatrist, a psychologist, and a psychiatric social 
worker. This clinic will not only conduct careful 364 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
studies of individual delinquents, but will demonstrate 
what can be done in the way of treatment and social 
adjustment of each child. The assignment of a clinic 
to a city will depend largely upon the interest mani- 
fested by those concerned in dealing with juvenile 
delinquency and the prospects of there being established 
and maintained at the expense of the community a per- 
manent court psychiatric clinic. 
Dr. V. V. Anderson, who is Director of the new Divi- 
sion on the Prevention of Delinquency, will be in 
immediate charge of all work undertaken by the 
Division, but will be assisted by an advisory com- 
mittee composed of the following persons: Dr. Thomas 
W. Salmon, Professor of Psychiatry in Columbia 
University, Chairman; Hon. Charles W. Hoffman, 
Judge of Division of Domestic Relations of Hamil- 
ton County Court of Common Pleas, Cincinnati; 
Miss Emma O. Lundberg, in charge of Social Service 
Division of Children’s Bureau, Washington; Mr. 
Herbert C. Parsons, Deputy Commissioner of the Com- 
mission on Probation, Boston; Dr. Walter E. Fernald, 
Superintendent of the Massachusetts School for the 
Feebleminded, Waverley; Dr. Lewellys F. Barker of 
Baltimore, specialist in internal medicine, and Mr. 
Graham R. Taylor. 
The establishment of this psychiatric field service 
will make it possible to supply to juvenile courts and 
probation officers in the United States a means of 
becoming acquainted at first hand with the practical 
value of psychiatric work in the management of juvenile MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
365 
delinquency and will assist them in organizing such 
work on a permanent and scientific basis. 
It is believed that much of past failure to deal success- 
fully with criminals may be attributed to our neglect 
to give due consideration to the criminal himself and the 
causes (intrinsic as well as extrinsic) that have led him 
to commit criminal acts and to be in danger of embarking 
upon a criminal career. 
Studies conducted by The National Committee for 
Mental Hygiene in various penal and correctional 
institutions throughout the United States indicate that 
a large proportion of the inmates of these institutions, 
and the same may be said of offenders passing through 
the courts, have from childhood behaved in a way at 
variance with average normal behavior and this abnor- 
mal behavior has characterized itself repeatedly in 
criminal acts. Thus it is apparent that criminal 
careers, in a very large measure, have their origin in 
juvenile delinquency. 
The prevention of juvenile delinquency is one of the 
most pressing duties of the present day. No problem 
of childhood is more serious than that of delinquency. 
The importance of centering all constructive work upon 
those forces that train children for a wholesome and 
socialized adult life cannot be overemphasized. The 
adult is what the child was. Whoever can control the 
mental, physical and moral life of the child can thereby 
direct the child’s future actions as an adult. 
Valuable agencies have been created by society for 
aiding, developing, protecting, and caring for children, 366 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
but the presence of large numbers of individuals who 
have not developed during their early years those 
qualities of mind and body which are the basis for 
normal adult life, points to a lesser achievement than 
had been hoped for. There is ample evidence that the 
causes for failure of certain individuals can often be 
ascertained by the application of scientific methods of 
inquiry. Through competent medical, psychological, 
and social diagnoses many of the factors that tend to 
produce delinquent careers can be discovered early and 
sound and constructive methods of treatment and 
prevention applied. 
The significance of scientific studies in the field of 
juvenile delinquency is becoming increasingly apparent. 
Juvenile courts throughout the country are appealing 
for clinical facilities to aid them in dealing with that 
large army of maladjusted children whom we call 
delinquents. An extremely small number of the more 
than two thousand juvenile courts in the United States 
are properly equipped for the scientific study of indi- 
vidual delinquents. Even where there is such equip- 
ment, the courts are often too poorly financed to give 
the full measure of service in the treatment and preven- 
tion of delinquency which the opportunities offered 
should enable them to do. Providing demonstration 
clinics to juvenile courts for limited periods will, it is 
believed, do much towards placing the work of such 
courts on a sound and scientific basis and result in the 
reduction of juvenile delinquency. Such clinics, under 
the name of Child Guidance Clinics, to which any so- MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
367 
called problem child may be taken, are in operation in 
St. Louis, Norfolk, Virginia, and Dallas, Texas. Before 
many years, it is believed that all cities of importance 
will establish and maintain Child Guidance Clinics as 
indispensable agencies in the field of prevention. Full 
information regarding these clinics and also about types 
of clinics best suited to serve the mental hygiene needs 
of given communities may be secured by writing to the 
National Committee for Mental Hygiene. As a result 
of a mental hygiene survey of Cincinnati, that city has 
established, under a plan formulated by Dr. V. V. 
Anderson of the National Committee, a mental hygiene 
clinic capable of serving all of its local needs in this 
regard. This marks a great step forward in the intelli- 
gent management of an entire city’s mental hygiene 
problem^. 
Prevention 
Mankind’s warfare against disease has been con- 
ducted in two great phases. The first, following many 
centuries of entire defenselessness, consisted wholly 
in the erection of special defenses during emergencies. 
This was the period of quarantines, segregation of infected 
persons and the beginning of efforts to eliminate poisons 
from food, air and water. In the second phase, that 
through which we are now passing, we seek to supple- 
ment, or in some directions actually to substitute for, 
the defensive measures of the first phase, efforts to 
anticipate disease by destroying its agencies before 
imminent danger exists and to fortify the natural 368 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
powers of human resistance through increasing immunity 
and bodily vigor. It is as much an object, in this 
phase, to enable the weak to become strong, the strong 
to become stronger, the healthy to become healthier 
and the vigorous to become more vigorous as it is to 
prevent disease and to defer death. 
It is believed that with the knowledge now in our pos- 
session, with opportunity to make widely known the 
enormously important lessons in mental hygiene taught 
by the war and with the receptive public attitude that 
now exists, mental hygiene will take its place by the 
side of other major activities in the great field of pre- 
ventive medicine. In helping to place it there, The 
National Committee for Mental Hygiene will simply be 
carrying out its chief objective: work in prevention. 
Conclusion 
In the foregoing pages, with many omissions and with 
many important and productive activities merely indi- 
cated, there have been outlined the steps by which a 
new health movement originated, grew, developed 
practical methods, found useful fields in which to work, 
served our country in a great war, and gradually won 
recognition and support. Never, except for the first 
three years, supplied with sufficient funds to undertake 
half the tasks that lay clearly before it, The National 
Committee for Mental Hygiene is to-day making its 
influence felt in many parts of the wide domain in which 
mental disorders cloud the lives of individuals and 
menace the security of society. MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
369 
The time has come to appeal to the public to provide 
the support that heretofore has been given by the few. 
The time has come for stabilizing, upon the permanent 
foundation of endowment, work already under way 
that cannot be abandoned, for developing along new 
lines, disclosed by what has been accomplished, and for 
participating more fully in the organized health and 
social activities of every community. Under sound, 
experienced, scientific direction, with adequate financial 
support and the continued confidence of the great phi- 
lanthropic foundations that have investigated its work 
and approved its methods, The National Committee 
for Mental Hygiene can play a very large part in the 
future in limiting the ravages of a group of grave dis- 
eases, increasing the fullness and efficiency of life for 
those who have to battle with lesser mental handicaps, 
promoting the salvage and profitable use of much defec- 
tive human material, lifting some almost intolerable 
burdens from childhood, and pointing the way to more 
effective management of social ills in which mental 
factors exert a controlling influence. III 
PUBLICATIONS 
A large number of pamphlets and reports, issued or 
distributed by The National Committee for Mental 
Hygiene, many of which may be had for the asking, are 
listed on pages following this description of its official 
quarterly magazine, the publication of which was begun 
in January, 1917. 
A New Magazine in a New Field 
MENTAL HYGIENE 
AIM 
Mental Hygiene aims to present non-technical articles 
on the practical management of mental problems in all 
relations of life. 
FIELD 
Adaptation of education to needs of the individual. 
Study of mental factors in dependency, delinquency, 
crime and industry. 
Management of alcoholism and drug addiction. 
Control of mental deficiency. 
Prevention and treatment of mental diseases and 
epilepsy. 
370 MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
371 
FOR 
All thoughtful readers—especially physicians, lawyers, 
clergymen, educators, public officials, and students of 
social problems. 
Mental Hygiene will present to a wide circle of readers 
popular articles on the practical management of mental 
problems in all relations of life. These articles will 
give the results of study and work in new and vitally 
important enterprises. To-day, as never before, atten- 
tion is being directed to mental factors in the problems 
of the individual and of society. These factors are of 
paramount importance in the study and practical 
management of delinquency, crime and inebriety. 
We no longer ignore the fact that education must meet 
the needs of children who present special difficulties of 
adaption. The widespread determination to control 
feeblemindedness raises questions of economics, law, 
and medicine which demand the most thoughtful con- 
sideration. New ideals in the care and treatment of 
those suffering from mental disorders are imposing new 
obligations upon the public authorities. The recogni- 
tion of preventable causes of mental diseases challenges 
us to seek in the field of mental hygiene victories com- 
parable to those achieved in general hygiene and sani- 
tation. 
Mental Hygiene will bring dependable information 
and a new inspiration to everyone whose interest or 
whose work brings him into contact with these prob- 
lems. Writers of authority will present original com- 372 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
munications and reviews of important books; note- 
worthy articles in periodicals out of convenient reach 
of the general public will be republished; reports of 
surveys, special investigations, and new methods of 
prevention or treatment in the broad field of mental 
hygiene and psychopathology will be presented and 
discussed in as non-technical a way as possible. Many 
articles that will be helpful to parents will be published. 
It is our aim to make Mental Hygiene indispensable to 
all thoughtful readers. 
The subscription price is two dollars a year. Single 
copies are fifty cents each. Subscribers may make 
checks payable to Mental Hygiene or to The National 
Committee for Mental Hygiene, Inc. (370 Seventh 
Avenue, New York City). A reduced facsimile of the 
cover of the issue of July, 1921, appears on page 341. 
PAMPHLETS AND REPORTS 
It is impossible in a book to give a list of publications 
that will remain up-to-date. In consequence, those 
interested are urged to write to The National Committee 
for Mental Hygiene for a copy of its current List of 
Publications, which is issued from time to time. A 
few of the titles, however, are presented, so that readers 
may sense their nature. They show what sort of article 
appears in Mental Hygiene, as many of them are reprints 
from that magazine. 
The National Committee also publishes the Mental 
Hygiene Bulletin, issued ten months in the year at the 
nominal subscription price of twenty-five cents a year. MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
373 
Principles of Mental Hygiene Applied to the Manage- 
ment of Children Predisposed to Nervousness. By 
Dr. Lewellys F. Barker. 
Experiences of the Child; How They Affect Character 
and Behavior. By Dr. C. Macfie Campbell. 
Nervous Children and Their Training. By Dr. C. 
Macfie Campbell. 
Childhood; the Golden Period for Mental Hygiene. 
By Dr. William A. White. 
Mental Health for Normal Children. By William H. 
Burnham. 
Habit Clinics for Children of Pre-school Age. By 
Dr. Douglas A. Thorn. 
Some Adaptive Difficulties Found in School Children. 
By Esther L. Richards. 
A Survey of the Teaching of Mental Hygiene in the 
Normal Schools. By William H. Burnham. 
The Right to Marry. By Dr. Adolf Meyer. 
Nervousness: Its Cause and Prevention. By Dr. 
Austen Riggs. 
Responsibilities of the Universities in Promoting Mental 
Hygiene. By Dr. C. Macfie Campbell. 
Mental Hygiene and the College Student. By Dr. 
Frankwood E. Williams. 
Mobilizing the Brains of the Nation. By Dr. Stewart 
Paton. 
The Place of Mental Hygiene in the Public Health 
Movement. By Dr. Haven Emerson. 
The Movement for a Mental Hygiene of Industry. By 
Dr. E. E. Southard. 374 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
Mental Hygiene in Industry. By Dr. C. Macfie 
Campbell. 
Psychiatric Lessons from the War. By Dr. Thomas 
W. Salmon. 
Future of Psychiatry in the Army. By Dr. Thomas 
W. Salmon. 
Psychopathic Hospitals and Prophylaxis. By Dr. 
Frankwood E. Williams. 
Unemployment and Personality. By Dr. Herman 
Adler. 
Anxiety and Fear. By Dr. Frankwood E. Williams. 
Relation of Alcohol and Syphilis to Mental Hygiene. 
By Dr. Frankwood E. Williams. 
Burden of Feeblemindedness. By Dr. Walter E. 
Fernald. 
Growth of Provision for the Feebleminded in the 
United States. By Dr. Walter E, Fernald. 
State Program for the Care of the Feebleminded. By 
Dr. Walter E. Fernald. 
What is Practicable in the Way of Prevention of Mental 
Defect. By Dr. Walter E. Fernald. 
Function of Special Classes for Mentally Defective 
Children. By Ada M. Fitts. 
State Institutions for the Feebleminded. By Dr. V. 
V. Anderson. 
Mental Clinics in the Court. By Dr. V. V. Anderson. 
A National Deficit (Mental Deficiency). By Dr. V. 
V. Anderson. 
Education of Mental Defectives in State and Pri- 
vate Institutions and in Special Classes in Public MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
375 
Schools in the United States. By Dr. V. V. 
Anderson. 
Mental Deficiency; Its Frequency and Characteristics 
in the United States as Determined by the Exam- 
ination of Recruits. By Dr. Pearce Bailey and 
Roy Haber. 
Feeblemindedness and the Law. By Dr. Thomas W. 
Salmon. 
Colony and Extra-Institutional Care for the Feeble- 
minded. By Dr. Charles Bernstein. 
Type of Feebleminded Who Can be Cared for in the 
Community. By Dr. George N. Wallace. 
Types of Delinquent Careers. By Dr. Bernard Glueck. 
Concerning Prisoners. By Dr. Bernard Glueck. 
Medico-psychological Study of Delinquents. By Dr. 
William Healy and Augusta F. Bronner. 
Three Cases of Larceny. By Dr. Edith R. Spaulding. 
Disciplinary Measures in the Management of the 
Psychopathic Woman. By Jessie D. Hodder. 
Community Organization for Mental Hygiene. By 
Dr. Owen Copp. 
Barriers to the Treatment of Mental Patients. By 
Dr. Owen Copp. 
Community Responsibility in the Treatment of Mental 
Disorders. By Dr. William L. Russell. 
Mental Pitfalls of Adolescence. By Dr. Henry R. 
Stedman. 
Why Should So Many Go Insane? By Homer Folks 
and Everett Elwood. 
Psychiatric Social Work. By Mary C. Jarrett. 376 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
Social Service for the Mentally Sick a Good Investment 
for the State. By V. M. Macdonald. 
What Shall be the Attitude of the Public Toward the 
Recovered Insane Patient? By Dr. Harry C. 
Solomon. 
Purposes, Plans and Work of State Societies for 
Mental Hygiene. By Clifford W. Beers. 
Outline of a State Society for Mental Hygiene. By 
Dr. E. Stanley Abbot. 
The Possibilities of a State Society for Mental Hygiene. 
By Dr. H. Douglas Singer. 
Dementia Praecox as a Social Problem. By Horatio 
M. Pollock. 
Decline of Alcohol as a Cause of Insanity. By Horatio 
M. Pollock. 
Annual Census of the Insane, Feebleminded, Epileptics 
and Inebriates in Institutions in the United States. 
By Horatio M. Pollock and Edith M. Furbush. 
Issued each year by The National Committee for 
Mental Hygiene. 
Statistical Manual for the use of Institutions for Mental 
Diseases. By Bureau of Statistics of The National 
Committee for Mental Hygiene. 
Summaries of State Laws Relating to the Insane. 
(Price $1.00.) Issued, from time to time, by The 
National Committee for Mental Hygiene. 
Summaries of State Laws Relating to the Feebleminded 
and Epileptic. (Price, $1.00.) Issued, from time 
time, by The National Committee for Mental 
Hygiene. IV 
The National Committee for Mental Hygiene 
370 Seventh Avenue, New York City. 
(Penn Terminal Building, Corner of 31st Street) 
Form of Organization 
Officers, Directors and Members 
(A5 of March 1, 1923) 
The National Committee for Mental Hygiene, founded 
on February 19th, 1909, was incorporated in 1916 under 
the Membership Corporations Law of the State of New 
York. The affairs of the organization are managed by a 
Board of Directors, consisting of five groups elected by 
the National Committee, for one, two, three, four and 
five years, respectively. The National Committee at 
each annual meeting elects from its own membership a 
President, three Vice-presidents, a Treasurer, and a 
Secretary. The Board at each annual meeting elects 
an Executive Committee and a Finance Committee. 
The Medical Director is appointed by the Board upon 
prior nomination by the Executive Committee. All 
special or sub-committees are appointed by the Execu- 
tive Committee, to which they report. 
Members of the National Committee may be elected 
by the National Committee or by the Executive Com- 
mittee, as provided in the by-laws. The membership, 
377 378 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
originally limited to seventy, was subsequently increased 
to one hundred and later to not more than two hundred. 
It is planned that all States shall find representation 
in the National Committee. 
The organization is dependent for support upon vol- 
untary contributions. Funds available for expenditure 
are disbursed under budgets prepared by the Executive 
Committee, approved later by the Executive and Finance 
Committee acting jointly, and finally approved by the 
Board of Directors. At the end of each fiscal year, 
which corresponds with the calendar year, all of the 
accounts and vouchers for the year are examined by a 
certified public accountant. His report is transmitted 
to the Treasurer and, in turn, presented to the Board 
of Directors for approval and incorporation in the 
records of the National Committee. 
Officers 
Dr. Walter B. James 
President 
Vice-Presidents 
Charles W. Eliot 
Dr. Bernard Sachs 
Dr. William H. Welch 
Executive Committee 
Dr. William L. Russell, 
Chairman 
Committee on Prevention of 
Delinquency 
Dr. Thomas W. Salmon, 
Chairman 
Treasurer 
Otto T. Bannard 
Committee on Mental Deficiency 
Dr. Walter E. Fernald, 
Chairman 
Committee on Education 
Dr. C. Macite Campbell, 
Chairman MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
379 
Executive Officers 
Dr. Frank wood E. Williams, Medical Director 
Clifford W. Beers, Secretary 
Dr. Clarence J. D’Alton, Executive Assistant 
Dr. V. V. Anderson, Director, Prevention of Delinquency 
Dr. Thomas H. Haines, Director, Mental Deficiency 
Dr. Samuel W. Hamilton, Director, Hospital and Medical Service 
Edith M. Furbush, Statistician 
Board of Directors 
Edwin A. Alderman, Charlottes- 
ville, Va. 
Otto T. Bannard, New York 
Dr. Lewellys F. Barker, Baltimore 
Dr. Frank Billings, Chicago 
Dr. Robert H. Bishop, Cleveland 
Dr. George Blumer, New Haven 
Dr. Samuel A. Brown, New York 
Dr. C. Macfie Campbell, Boston 
Russell H. Chittenden, New Haven 
Dr. L. Pierce Clark, New York 
Dr. William B. Coley, New York 
Dr. Owen Copp, Philadelphia 
Dr. Charles L. Dana, New York 
Charles B. Davenport, Cold Spring 
Harbor, N. Y. 
Stephen P. Duggan, New York 
Charles W. Eliot, Cambridge 
Dr. Walter E. Femald, Waverley, 
Mass. 
Matthew C. Fleming, New York 
Homer Folks, New York 
Dr. C. Floyd Haviland, Albany, 
N. Y. 
William J. Hoggson, Greenwich, 
Conn. 
Dr. Walter B. James, New York 
Dr. George H. Kirby, New York 
Samuel McCune Lindsay, New 
York 
Dr. Stewart Paton, Princeton 
Dr. Arthur H. Ruggles, Providence 
Mrs. Charles C. Rumsey, Wheat- 
ley Hills, N. Y. 
Dr. William L. Russell, White 
Plains, N. Y. 
Dr. Bernard Sachs, New York 
Dr. Thomas W. Salmon, New York 
Anson Phelps Stokes, West Stock- 
bridge, Mass. 
Howard B. Tuttle, Naugatuck, 
Conn. 
Victor Morris Tyler, New Haven 
Mrs. William K. Vanderbilt, New 
York 
Dr. William H. Welch, Baltimore 
Robert M. Yerkes, Washington 380 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
Members other than Directors 
Mrs. Milo M. Acker, Homell, N. Y. 
Jane Addams, Chicago 
Dr. Herman M. Adler, Chicago 
Harriet Bailey, Bangor, Me. 
Dr. Charles P. Bancroft, Concord, 
N. H. 
Dr. Albert M. Barrett, Ann Arbor, 
Mich. 
David P. Barrows, Berkeley, Cal. 
Dr. Clara Barrus, Roxbury, N. Y. 
Dr. Herman M. Biggs, New York 
Dr. Malcolm A. Bliss, St. Louis 
Dr. Rupert Blue, Washington 
Dr. G. Alder Blumer, Providence 
Dr. E. D. Bondurant, Mobile, Ala. 
Carl C. Brigham, Princeton 
Dr. Edward N. Brush, Baltimore 
William H. Burnham, Worcester 
Nicholas Murray Butler, New 
York 
John J. Carty, New York 
Dr. Louis Casamajor, New York 
F. Stuart Chapin, Minneapolis. 
Dr. Edmund A. Christian, Pon- 
tiac, Mich. 
Dr. George W. Crile, Cleveland 
Dr. Harvey Cushing, Boston 
Dr. George Donohoe, Cherokee, 
Iowa 
Mrs. William F. Dummer, Chicago 
Dr. David L. Edsall, Boston 
Dr. Charles P. Emerson, Indian- 
apolis 
Dr. Haven Emerson, New York 
Dr. Livingston Farrand, Ithaca 
Elizabeth E. Farrell, New York 
W. H. P. Faunce, Providence 
Katherine S. Felton, San Francisco 
John H. Finley, New York 
Dr. J. M. T. Finney, Baltimore 
Irving Fisher, New Haven 
Raymond B. Fosdick, New York 
Lee K. Frankel, New York 
Dr. Charles H. Frazier, Philadel- 
phia 
Dr. C. Lincoln Furbush, Philadel- 
phia 
Francis D. Gallatin, New York 
Dr. Arnold Gesell, New Haven 
Dr. Bernard Glueck, New York 
D. J. E. Goldthwait, Boston 
Dr. S. S. Goldwater, New York 
Dr. Menas S. Gregory, New York 
Arthur T. Hadley, New Haven 
Melvin E. Haggerty, Minneapolis 
Dr. Arthur S. Hamilton, Minnea- 
polis 
Learned Hand, New York 
Mrs. E. Henry Harriman, New 
York 
Dr. Harley A. Haynes, Lapeer, 
Mich. 
Dr. William Healy, Boston 
Dr. Arthur P. Herring, Baltimore 
Frederick C. Hicks, Cincinnati 
Charles W. Hoffman, Cincinnati 
Dr. L. Emmett Holt, New York 
Franklin C. Hoyt, New York 
Surg. Gen. M. W. Ireland, Wash- 
ington 
Mrs. Helen Hartley Jenkins, New 
York 
Charles H. Judd, Chicago 
Harry Pratt Judson, Chicago MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
381 
Dr. Charles G. Kerley, New York 
Everett Kimball, Northampton, 
Mass. 
Franklin B. Kirkbride, New York 
James H. Kirkland, Nashville 
Dr. George M. Kline, Boston 
Dr. Augustus S. Knight, Glad- 
stone, N. J. 
Julia C. Lathrop, Rockford, 111. 
Burdette G. Lewis, Trenton, N. J. 
Adolph Lewisohn, New York 
Ernest H. Lindley, Lawrence, 
Kansas 
Dr. Charles S. Little, Thiells, N. Y. 
Dr. William F. Lorenz, Madison, 
Wis. 
Emma Lundberg, Washington 
Tracy W. McGregor, Detroit. 
George P. McLean, Simsbury, 
Conn. 
Henry N. MacCracken, Pough- 
keepsie, N. Y. 
Dr. Carlos F. MacDonald, New 
York 
V. Everit Macy, Scarborough, 
N.Y. 
Richard I. Manning, Columbia, 
S. C. 
Marcus M. Marks, New York 
Maude E. Miner, New York 
Dr. Henry W. Mitchell, Warren, 
Pa. 
Dr. George A. Moleen, Denver, 
Col. 
Mrs. William S. Monroe, Chicago 
Dwight W. Morrow, Englewood, 
N.J. 
Dr. J. M. Murdoch, Polk, Pa. 
J. Prentice Murphy, Philadelphia 
William A. Neilson, Northampton, 
Mass. 
Dr. Frank P. Norbury, Springfield, 
111. 
Dr. Samuel T. Orton, Iowa City 
William Church Osborn, New York 
Harry V. Osborne, Newark, N. J. 
Dr. Herman Ostrander, Kalamazoo, 
Mich. 
Dr. William H. Park, New York. 
Herbert C. Parsons, Boston 
Angelo Patri, New York 
Dr. Hugh T. Patrick, Chicago 
Dr. Frederick Peterson, New York 
Henry Phipps, New York 
Gifford Pinchot, Washington 
Roscoe Pound, Cambridge 
Dr. M. P. Ravenel, Columbia, Mo. 
Rush Rhees, Rochester, N. Y. 
Dr. Robert L. Richards, San 
Francisco, Cal. 
Dr. Austen F. Riggs, Stockbridge, 
Mass. 
Dr. Milton J. Rosenau, Boston 
Ira C. Rothgerber, Denver, Col. 
Dr. William C. Sandy, Harrisburg, 
Pa. 
Jacob Gould Schurman, Ithaca 
Dr. Sidney I. Schwab, St. Louis, 
Mo. 
Carl E. Seashore, Iowa City, Iowa 
Dr. Frederick C. Shattuck, Boston 
Edward W. Sheldon, New York 
Dr. H. Douglas Singer, Chicago, 
111. 
Dr. Edith R. Spaulding, New York 
Dr. M. Allen Starr, New York 
Dr. Henry R. Stedman, Boston, 
Mass. 382 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
Dr. Charles F. Stokes, New York 
Graham R. Taylor, New York 
Dr. Frederick Tilney, New York 
Arthur W. Towne, New York 
Dr. Walter Timme, New York 
Dr. Forrest C. Tyson, Augusta, 
Me. 
Henry van Dyke, Princeton 
Dr. Henry P. Walcott, Cambridge 
Lillian D. Wald, New York 
Dr. George L. Wallace, Wrentham, 
Mass. 
Clarence A. Warden, Philadelphia 
Dr. Paul Waterman, Hartford 
Dr. William A. White, Washington 
Dr. Ray Lyman Wilbur, Stanford, 
Cal. 
Dr. Henry Smith Williams, New 
York 
Dr. William H. Wilmer, Washing- 
ton 
Dr. C.-E. A. Winslow, New Haven 
Arthur Woods, New York 
Robert A. Woods, Boston 
Howell Wright, Cleveland 
Dr. Edwin G. Zabriskie, New York 
Members who have died during their term of office: 
Elizabeth Milbank Anderson 
James B. Angell 
Dr. Pearce Bailey 
Dr. Henry B. Favill 
His Eminence, James, Cardinal 
Gibbons 
Henry L. Higginson 
Dr. August Hoch 
William James 
Mrs. William James 
Morris Loeb 
Dr. William Mabon 
Dr. J. Montgomery Mosher 
Florence M. Rhett 
Jacob A. Riis 
Dr. Arthur C. Rogers 
Dr. Elmer E. Southard 
Robert W. Tayler 
Dr. Walter Wyman V 
The Canadian National Committee for 
Mental Hygiene 
io2 College Street, Toronto 
The Canadian National Committee for Mental 
Hygiene was founded at Ottawa on April 26th, 1918. 
Shortly afterward, His Excellency the Duke of Devon- 
shire, then Governor-General of Canada, became Patron 
of the organization and Her Excellency the Duchess 
of Devonshire became Patroness. In 1921 they were 
succeeded by His Excellency the Lord Byng of Vimy 
and Her Excellency the Lady Byng of Vimy. 
The objects and plans of the Canadian Committee 
are similar to those of the National Committee in the 
United States. That important results have been 
achieved is shown in the summary given on subsequent 
pages. Its reports and other publications may be 
secured by writing to the Secretary, Dr. C. M. Hincks, 
102 College Street, Toronto. There is an affiliated 
local committee in Montreal. 
Patron: His Excellency the Lord Byng of Vimy, G. C. B., Governor- 
General of Canada. 
Patroness: Her Excellency tne Lady Byng of Vimy. 
383 384 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
Officers 
Dr. Charles F. Martin, President 
Vice-Presidents: 
Lord Shaughnessy 
Sir Vincent Meredith, Bart. 
Sir Lomer Gouin 
Sir Robert Falconer 
Sir Arthur Currie 
Sir William Price 
Sir George Burn, Treasurer 
Finance Committee 
David A. Dunlap, Esq., Chairman 
Sir George Bum John B. Holden, Esq. 
George H. Ross, Esq. 
Executive Officers 
Dr. C. K. Clarke, Medical Director (Toronto) 
Dr. Gordon S. Mundie, Associate Medical Director (Montreal) 
Dr. J. G. Mackay, Associate Medical Director (Vancouver) 
Dr. C. M. Hincks, Associate Medical Director 
and Secretary (Toronto) 
Dr. Colin K. Russel, Chairman 
Executive Committee 
Dr. E. A. Bott 
Prof. J. A. Dale 
Dr. A. H. Desloges 
Dr. J. Halpenny 
Dr. C. J. O. Hastings 
Dr. W. H. Hattie 
Mr. Vincent Massey 
President W. C. Murray 
Major J. D. Pagd 
Dr. C. A. Porteous 
Prof. D. G. Reveil 
Hon. Dr. W. F. Roberts 
Dr. E. W. Ryan 
Prof. Peter Sandiford 
Prof. William D. Tait 
Rev. W. H. Vance MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
385 
FOUR YEARS’ WORK OF THE CANADIAN 
NATIONAL COMMITTEE FOR MENTAL 
HYGIENE 
Foreword 
An account of the activities of the Canadian National 
Committee for Mental Hygiene during the last four 
years constitutes an interesting chapter in the history 
of public health. The National Committee was or- 
ganized in Ottawa (April, 1918), for the purpose of 
rendering assistance in the solution of the many problems 
connected with mental abnormality in the Dominion. 
A small staff of experienced workers was secured, which 
was subsequently augmented to fifteen, including a 
Medical Director. Through the activities of these 
officers, together with the assistance of a capable Board 
of Directors, it was possible to establish a satisfactory 
basis of co-operation with the Federal Government, the 
various Provincial Governments, and other authoritative 
bodies throughout the Dominion. Special attention 
was devoted to immigration, with the aim of excluding 
mental misfits from Canadian citizenship. Six Provin- 
cial Mental Hygiene Surveys were conducted to secure 
first-hand information concerning the prevalence and 
effects of mental abnormality, together with a knowledge 
of existing methods that were being utilized to meet the 
problem. The reports of these surveys included recom- 
mendations for the creation of facilities that would 
ensure enlightened treatment of the insane and feeble- 
minded, including, of course, juvenile delinquents. 386 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
Special Classes for Mental Defectives in 
Primary Schools 
The National Committee advocates the principle of 
the detection of mental defectives when they are young, 
together with educational facilities in primary schools 
that will meet the needs of this group. The organiza- 
tion of special classes will accomplish much in preventing 
future social disaster, and the Committee has been suc- 
cessful in promoting this work to the following extent: 
1. Enlargement of special class system, Vancouver, B. C. 
2. Establishment of special classes in the following cities of Ontario: 
Toronto, Guelph, St. Catharines, London, Hamilton, Kitchener, 
Windsor, St. Thomas, Brantford. 
(In Toronto 26 classes have been formed.) 
3. Special class in the Protestant Schools, Montreal, P. Q. 
Immigration 
The National Committee was an active agency in 
bringing about the creation of the Federal Department 
of Health, and has co-operated in establishing a better 
method for the mental examination of immigrants. 
Through the activities of the Committee many unde- 
sirable immigrants have been deported. In the Toronto 
office alone, during a six months’ period, 32 cases of 
insanity and feeblemindedness were recommended for 
deportation, and many have been sent back to their 
native land. When it is remembered that each case of 
insanity requiring institutional treatment over a period 
of years, costs this country between four and seven 
thousand dollars, it will be realized that this one activity MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
387 
of the National Committee is saving the Dominion 
more than the entire budget requirements of the Society. 
Psychiatric Clinics Established 
Psychiatric or Dispensary Mental Clinics are con- 
ducted by the Committee in Montreal, Toronto and 
Vancouver. At the suggestion of the Society, another 
was organized in Winnipeg, and Halifax will soon pos- 
sess one as well. Approximately 10,000 cases have been 
investigated and advised in these mental hygiene 
centres, and it would be difficult to estimate their value. 
Suicides have been prevented; suitable employment 
has been found for handicapped people, and many 
distressing cases have been so supervised that fairly 
successful life in the community was rendered possible. 
Occupational Therapy Promoted 
It is well known that cases of mental disorder improve 
when the individuals afflicted are provided with suitable 
occupation. The National Committee created a depart- 
ment with the special function of assisting those in 
charge of mental hospitals, for the development of 
adequate systems of occupational therapy. The 
results already achieved have been noteworthy. Many 
patients who previously had been idle and who in con- 
sequence had deteriorated mentally, are now engaged 
in healthful and interesting work. Special assistance 
has been afforded to Quebec, Saskatchewan and British 
Columbia. 388 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
Research in Schools 
The Committee has conducted useful studies in public 
schools. Through these investigations we possess for 
the first time data concerning the intellectual status of 
an average school community; we are better informed 
as to the value of individual and group tests, etc. We 
now know that the old-time system of education has 
failed in dealing adequately with children of inferior 
intelligence, and already a beginning has been made 
so to re-organize schools that the individual needs of the 
group under consideration will be better served. One 
school in Edmonton and another in Toronto are pro- 
viding specialized instruction for dull pupils as well as 
for those who are definitely mentally deficient. 
Vocational Guidance for the Handicapped 
It has been the aim of the Committee to place as many 
mentally handicapped individuals as possible at work 
in the community. A special study conducted in con- 
nection with a large Government Employment Bureau 
demonstrated the fact that many apparently inefficient 
individuals could be absorbed by industry, through 
sound vocational guidance. This particular line of 
work will eventually save much money by diminishing 
institution costs. 
New Laws Enacted 
Laws relating to the insane and feebleminded have 
been modified and improved in many provinces. Pro- MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
389 
vision for the voluntary admission of patients to mental 
hospitals has been legalized in various parts of Canada, 
and the formalities of court procedure in commitment 
have largely passed. 
Other Activities 
In addition to the foregoing, the National Committee 
has conducted an energetic educational campaign and 
has been instrumental in many ways in securing better 
treatment of the insane and feebleminded. Lecture 
courses have been given to social workers, teachers of 
special classes, public health nurses, and occupational 
aides. A successful attempt to improve the teaching 
of psychiatry and psychology to medical students in 
the colleges of Canada, has been made. The general 
public has been informed of the needs of the mentally 
handicapped through exhibits, magazine articles, and 
public addresses. The Committee has published a 
quarterly magazine and has issued bulletins dealing 
with mental hygiene. Staffs of mental hospitals 
have been improved and augmented. The value of 
trained social workers in helping patients on parole 
from mental hospitals has been demonstrated. An 
experiment in social service in the Province of Quebec 
saved the Government $60,000 in one year. 
Members 
Hon. George E. Amyot, Quebec 
Dr. J. V. Anglin, St. John, N. B. 
Dr. George Anderson, Toronto 
Hon. E. H. Armstrong, Halifax 
Adjutant General Ashton, Ottawa 
Lord Atholstan, Montreal 390 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
J. E. Atkinson, Toronto 
Adam Ballantyne, Toronto 
J. N. Barss, Shawbridge, P. Q. 
Dr. Gordon Bates, Toronto 
W. R. Bawlf, Winnipeg 
E. W. Beatty, Montreal 
Dr. Gordon Bell, Winnipeg 
General H. S. Birkett, Montreal 
W. M. Birks, Montreal 
Dr. A. D. Blackader, Montreal 
Hon. Mr. Justice P. E. Blondin, 
Ottawa 
Dr. Edward A. Bott, Toronto 
His Hon. Lieut. Governor Brett, 
Edmonton, Alta. 
Dr. Eliza Brison, Halifax, N. S. 
Dr. Horace L. Brittain, Toronto 
Dr. M. D. Brochu, P. Q. 
Dr. Alan Brown, Toronto 
Dr. Peter H. Bryce, Ottawa 
W. J. Bullman, Winnipeg 
Dr. T. J. W. Burgess, Verdun, P. Q. 
Sir George Bum, Ottawa 
J. F. Burstall, Quebec 
Dr. A. D. Campbell, Battleford, 
Sask. 
Dr. E. P. Chagnon, Montreal 
Hon. Thomas Chapais, Quebec 
Dr. W. W. Chipman, Montreal 
Dr. C. K. Clarke, Toronto 
Lindley Crease, Esq., Victoria, B. C. 
Dr. A. L. Crease, New Westminster, 
B. C. 
Mrs. C. Crowe, Guelph 
Dr. Winnifred Cullis, London, 
England 
Sir Arthur Currie, Montreal 
Rev. Dr. George B. Cutten, for- 
merly of Wolfville, N. S. 
Prof. J. A. Dale, Toronto 
George J. D’Allaird, Montreal 
Owen Dawson, Montreal 
Rt. Rev. A. U. De Pencier, Van- 
couver 
Dr. A. H. Desloges, Montreal 
Dr. F. E. Devlin, Montreal 
Mrs. Arthur Drummond, Montreal 
D. A. Dunlap, Toronto 
Mrs. D. A. Dunlap, Toronto 
W. P. Dutton, Esq., Winnipeg 
Lady Eaton, Toronto 
Dr. E. M. Eberts, Montreal 
Sir Robert Falconer, Toronto 
Dr. C. B. Farrar, Ottawa 
C. C. Ferguson, Winnipeg 
Dr. J. G. Fitzgerald, Toronto 
Mrs. J. G. Fitzgerald, Toronto 
Sir Joseph Flavelle, Toronto 
Sir Auckland Geddes 
Sir Lomer Gouin, Quebec 
Lieut. Governor Grant, Halifax 
Mrs. W. L. Grant, Toronto 
William Grayson, Moose Jaw, Sask. 
J. J. Greene, Hamilton, Ont. 
J. H. Gundy, Toronto 
W. D. Gwynne, Toronto 
Dr. J. Halpenny, Winnipeg 
D. B. Harkness, Winnipeg 
Hon. Mr. Justice Harvey, Edmon- 
ton, Alta. 
Dr. C. J. O. Hastings, Toronto 
Dr. W. H. Hattie, Halifax 
Dr. C. M. Hincks, Toronto 
Arthur Hitchcock, Moose Jaw, Sask. 
John B. Holden, Toronto 
His Hon. Frederick W. Howay, New 
Westminster, B. C. 
Dr. Goldwin Howland, Toronto MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
391 
Mrs. A. M. Huestis, Toronto 
Miss E. Hurlbatt, Montreal 
Dr. Geo. C. Kidd, Brockville, Ont. 
George Kidd, Vancouver 
Lady Kingsmill, Ottawa 
Dean F. L. Klinck, Vancouver 
Mrs. J. B. Laidlaw, Toronto 
Sir Richard Lake, Regina, Sask. 
P. C. Larkin, Toronto 
Dr. F. E. Lawlor, Dartmouth, N. S. 
Sir James Lougheed, Ottawa 
Dr. M. T. MacEachern, Vancouver 
Dr. J. A. Maclean, Winnipeg 
Dr. Helen MacMurchy, Ottawa 
Prof. R. M. Maclver, Toronto 
Dr. G. W. MacNeill, Battleford, 
Sask. 
Rev.Dr.H.P. MacPharson, Antigo- 
nish, N. S. 
C. A. Macgrath, Ottawa 
W. H. Malkin, Vancouver 
Dr. G. H. Manchester, New West- 
minster, B. C. 
Dr. Charles F. Martin, Montreal 
Hon. W. M. Martin, Regina, Sask. 
Vincent Massey, Toronto 
Dr. A. T. Mathers, Winnipeg 
J. M. McCarthy, Quebec 
J. O. McCarthy, Toronto 
Mrs. Nellie McClung, Edmonton 
A. M. McDonald, Edmonton 
Dr. D. McIntyre, Winnipeg 
Dr. J. G. McKay, New Westmins- 
ter, B. C. 
Dr. R. E. McKechnie, Vancouver 
Hon. J. D. McLean, Vancouver 
Francis McLennan, Quebec 
Mrs. J. C. McLimont, Quebec 
Mrs. W. B. Meikle, Toronto 
Sir Vincent Meredith, Bart., Mon- 
treal 
Lady Meredith, Montreal 
W. R. Miller, Montreal 
F. W. Molson, Montreal 
Dr. A. G. Morphy, Montreal 
H. H. Morris, Vancouver 
Judge H. S. Mott, Toronto 
A. Moxon, Saskatoon, Sask. 
Dr. Gordon S. Mundie, Montreal 
Hon. Dennis Murphy, Vancouver 
Judge E. F. Murphy, Edmonton 
President W. E. Murray, Sas- 
katoon, Sask. 
Sir Augustus Nanton, Winnipeg 
W. F. Nickle, Kingston, Ont. 
Sir Edmund Osier, Toronto 
Dr. J. D. Pag<§, Ottawa 
A. Percy Paget, Winnipeg 
Dr. C. A. Porteous, Verdun, P. Q. 
Dr. E. J. Pratt, Toronto 
Sir William Price, Quebec 
Dr. A. P. Proctor, Vancouver 
Rev. W. M. H. Quartermaine, Ren- 
frew 
Miss Helen Reid, Montreal 
Prof. R. G. Revell, Edmonton, Alta. 
Hon. Dr. W. F. Roberts, St. John, 
N. S. 
Dr. Armour Robertson, Montreal 
Bishop Roper, Ottawa 
Frank W. Ross, Quebec 
George H. Ross, Toronto 
John T. Ross, Quebec 
C. W. Rowley, Winnipeg 
Dr. Colin K. Russel, Montreal 
Mrs. Colin K. Russel, Montreal 
Dr. E. W. Ryan, Toronto 
Prof. Peter Sandiford, Toronto 392 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
Dr. M. M. Seymour, Regina, Sask. 
Lord Shaughnessy, Montreal 
Dr. Francis J. Shepherd, Montreal 
Mrs. Adam Shortt, Ottawa 
Mrs. Sidney Small, Toronto 
Hon. George P. Smith, Edmonton 
Mrs. Ralph Smith, Victoria 
Prof. W. G. Smith, Winnipeg 
Christopher Spencer, Vancouver 
Dr. H. C. Steeves, New Westminster 
Hon. Mr. Justice Stuart, Calgary, 
Alta. 
Prof. W. D. Tait, Montreal 
Madame Jules A. Tessier, Quebec 
Mrs. Charles Thorburn, Ottawa 
Hon. R. S. Thornton, Winnipeg 
Dr. John L. Todd, Otawa 
Dr. Thompson, Regina, Sask. 
Hon. A. Turgeon, Quebec 
Rev. Principal Vance, Vancouver 
Bruce Walker, Winnipeg 
Miss Grace T. Walker, Toronto 
Dr. T. W. Walker, Saskatoon, Sask. 
Mrs. H. D. Warren, Toronto 
Hon. Smeaton White, Montreal 
Blake Wilson, Vancouver 
Dr. O. C. J. Withrow, Toronto 
Dr. H. P. Wright, Montreal 
Dr. Henry E. Young, Victoria VI 
British National Council for Mental Hygiene 
59 Pont Street, S. W. i. London 
In March, 1922, announcement was made that a 
provisional committee of British medical men had 
decided to form a National Council for Mental Hygiene, 
the aims of the organization to be (1) to serve as a 
medium for co-ordinating the activities of the various 
associations concerned with mental hygiene; (2) to join 
with other national councils to form an international 
league or committee for combined action and the inter- 
change of knowledge; (3) to study the causation and 
prevention of mental disturbances, including the influ- 
ences of environment, heredity, such poisons as alcohol 
and lead, the dangerous trades, and syphilis; (4) to 
give greater prominence to the subject of mental hygiene 
in medical education; (5) to further the establishment 
in general hospitals of special clinics for the early treat- 
ment of mental disorders in such conditions as would 
remove the public prejudice against the word “mental”) 
(6) to improve the conditions of treatment of mental 
disorders, particularly in the early stages, when much 
good could be done at home by the institution of social 
work; and (7) to issue judicious propaganda. 
The committee consisted of Sir Courtauld Thomson, 
Chairman; Sir Norman Moore, President of the Royal 
393 394 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
College of Physicians; Sir Charles Sherrington, Presh 
dent of the Royal Society; Sir John Goodwin, Director 
General of Army Medical Service; Sir George Newman, 
Principal Medical Officer, Ministry of Health; Sir 
Walter Fletcher, F.R.S., Secretary of the Medical 
Research Council; Dr. C. H. Bond, President of the 
British Medico-Psychological Association; Dr. Bed- 
ford Pierce, President of the Section of Psychiatry of 
the Royal Society of Medicine; Professor George 
Robertson, President-elect of the British Medico-Psy- 
chological Association; Dr. C. S. Myers, F.R.S., 
Director of the National Institute of Industrial Psy- 
chology; Dr. G. Ainsworth, Dr. Helen Boyle, Dr. 
Edwin Bramwell, Dr. E. Farquhar Buzzard, Sir Maurice 
Craig, Lord Dawson of Penn, Sir Bryan Donkin, Dr. 
Elliot Smith, F.R.S., Dr. Edwin Goodall, Dr. Henry 
Head, F.R.S., Dr. H. Crichton Miller, Sir Frederick 
Mott, F.R.S., Dr. W. H. R. Rivers, F.R.S., Sir Hum- 
phry Rolleston, Dr. T. A. Ross, Dr. A. F. Tredgold, 
Dr. W. Worth. The name of Sir Leslie Scott, M.P., 
was later added to the committee. 
A meeting, to which representatives both of the 
medical profession and of the lay public had been invited, 
was held May 4, 1922, at the rooms of the Royal 
Society of Medicine, for the purpose of deciding upon 
a constitution and electing officers. About four hun- 
dred people attended. Sir Courtauld Thomson, who 
presided, pointed out the need for a national organiza- 
tion which would enable Great Britain to take her place 
in the international movement for mental hygiene, MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
395 
and pleaded for the co-operation of the lay public, 
without which, he said, all the skill, devotion, and energy 
of the medical profession would be of no avail. Sir 
Humphry Rolleston explained in more detail the aims 
of the proposed council. 
“It was then unanimously agreed,” to quote from 
The Times (London), “that the National Council for 
Mental Hygiene be formed, and on the motion of Sir 
Frederick Mott, seconded by Dr. E. Farquhar Buzzard, 
Sir Courtauld Thomson was elected chairman. 
“Lord Southborough proposed, Lady Darwin sec- 
onded, and it was agreed, that the provisional com- 
mittee ... be authorized to act for six months, with 
power to add to their number, to draw up a constitu- 
tion, and to elect an executive committee. 
“Sir Courtauld Thomson then announced that Sir 
Charles Russell and Company, honorable solicitors to 
the British Red Cross, had consented to act as honor- 
able solicitors to the National Council; and Sir Basil 
Mayhew, auditor to the British Red Cross, had con- 
sented to act as honorable auditor. 
“Dr. Henry Head pleaded for the co-ordination of the 
results of highly specialized scientific work which had 
been accomplished in relation to the mental health of 
the nation. The word ‘ mental ’ had an ominous sound 
which called up at once the idea of insanity. But mental 
hygiene meant only the maintenance of that state of 
health in which human beings could respond normally 
to the calls made upon them by daily life. Mental 
hygiene was as important as sanitation. Mind and 396 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
body were inextricably intermingled. Those who played 
golf knew how completely they might go off their game. 
When they did, they wondered whether they were 
sickening for some illness. When they returned home 
tired and vexed, they discovered the real cause in a 
forgotten letter thrust into a pocket unopened because of 
its disagreeable contents. This repression had been 
responsible for a day of misfortune. The evil effects 
of such repression was one of the most important thera- 
peutic lessons learned in the war. 
“No structural disease was free from its mental 
concomitants, and every mental state had its bodily 
equivalent. People said in a relieved voice, ‘It is only 
nerves,’ but so-called nerves produced more individual 
and corporate misery than cancer. 
“Sir Leslie Scott, M.P., paid a high tribute to the 
work of the Central Association for Mental Welfare and 
After-Care Association, and said it was of the greatest 
importance that the various bodies dealing with the 
subject of mental hygiene should be kept in touch with 
each other by some unifying body such as the proposed 
National Council. Speaking from the point of view of 
the courts of justice of this country, he thought it was 
of the highest public importance that persons who com- 
mitted crimes because they were mentally ‘wrong’ 
should be dealt with in the right way by medical atten- 
tion, and that those who had to administer criminal 
justice should have the assistance of wise expert advice. 
“Major-General Sir John Goodwin, Director-General, 
Army Medical Service, said he was a little skeptical as MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
397 
to whether the day of the fighting services was entirely 
at an end. Modern war imposed a terrible mental 
strain, not only upon the fighting men, but upon the 
whole community; and he felt that the subject of mental 
hygiene was of incalculable importance to the nation’s 
future. 
“Sir Maurice Craig said it was poor economy to build 
vast institutions for the cure of the mentally afflicted. 
It would be very much better if more time, money, 
and thought were directed towards the prevention of 
mental disorders. Hitherto it had been the policy of 
this country with regard to a man who was breaking 
down that until he became insane nothing could be 
done for him.” 
The Lancet (London), commenting on the meeting, 
said: “The National Council for Mental Hygiene has 
started under the best auspices with a fine practical 
program before it, and it is to be hoped that the pro- 
visional committee will be able to take advantage of 
the opportunities for international activity which lie 
immediately before them.” VII 
The French League for Mental Hygiene 
99. Avenue de le Bourdannais, Paris 
The French League for Mental Hygiene was founded 
in Paris on December 8th, 1920, at a meeting held at the 
Ministry of Hygiene, under the patronage of M. Breton, 
Minister of Hygiene. 
Its objects and plans are similar to those of the 
national committees previously established in the United 
States and Canada. A verbatim copy of the list of 
officers and members, as of June, 1921, is herewith 
presented. The active President is Dr. Toulouse; and 
the Secretary is Dr. Genil-Perrin, who may be addressed 
at 99, Avenue de le Bourdannais, Paris. Dr. J. M. 
Lahy is Treasurer. 
Comite de Patronage 
President: M. Ldon Bourgeois, prdsident du Sdnat 
MM. 
Leredu, Ministre de l’Hygidne 
Raymond Poincard, Sdnateur, 
Membre de l’Acaddmie franjaise 
Breton, Sdnateur, Membre de 
l’lnstitut, ancien Minstre de 
1’Hygiene 
mm. 
Paul Strauss, Sdnateur, Membre de 
l’Acaddmie de Mddecine 
Painlevd, Ddputd, Membre de 
l’Acaddmie des Sciences 
Le Corbeiller, President du Conseil 
Municipal 
398 MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
399 
MM. 
Gay, President du Conseil General 
Autrand, Prefet de la Seine 
Raux, Prefet de Police 
Appell, Recteur de l’Universite de 
Paris, Membre de l’lnstitut 
Brieux, Membre de l’Academie 
frangaise 
MM. 
Francois de Curel, Membre de 
l’Acad6mie frangaise 
Daniel Berthelot, Membre de 
l’lnstitut et de l’Academie de 
Medecine 
Bureau 
Presidents d’Honntur: 
MM. 
Justin Godart, D6pute, ancien 
Sous-secr6taire d’fitat du Serv- 
ice de SantS 
Henri Rousselle, President de la 
Commission d’Assistance au 
Conseil General 
Frederic Brunet, ancien Depute* 
Conseiller Municipal 
President: 
Dr. Toulouse, M6decin en chef des 
Asiles de la Seine, Directeur du 
Laboratoire de Psychologie Ex- 
perimental de Pficole des 
Hautes-fitudes 
Vice-Presidents: 
MM. 
Lamaude, doyen de la Faculty de 
Droit 
Edmond Perrier, Membre de l’ln- 
stitut, Directeur honoraire du 
Museum 
Georges Renard, Professeur au 
College de France 
Secretaire: 
Dr. Genil-Perrin, chef de Clinique 
des Maladies Mentales & la 
Faculty de Medicine 
Tresorier 
J. Lahy, Chef de Travaux au 
Laboratoire de Psychologie Ex- 
perimental de l’ficole des 
Hautes-fitudes 
Commissions 
Maladies generates et troubles men- 
taux—- 
President: Dr. Klippel 
Alcoolisme—President: Dr.Legrain 
Enfance anormale—President: Dr. 
Roubinovitch 
Travail professionnel—President: 
M. J. Lahy 
Anti - sociaux — President: Dr. 
Henri Colin 
Dispensaires d’Hygiine mentale et 
Services ouverts—President: Dr. 
Toulouse 
Assistance publique et Legislation— 
President: Dr. Marcel Briand 
Enseignement Psychiatriquc—Pres- 
ident: Professeur Dupr£ 
Organization et Propaganda—Pres- 
ident: Docteur Antheaume 400 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
Members du Comite Central 
Mme. Avril de Sainte-Croix, Pr6- 
sidente de 1’ “CEuvre libera- 
trice” 
MM. 
Dausset, S6nateur de la Seine 
Dr. Debrierre, Sdnateur du Nord, 
Professeur & l’Universite de Lille 
Magny, Senateur de la Seine, Pre- 
sident de la Commission de Sur- 
veillance des Asiles de la Seine 
Ferdinand Buisson, Depute 
Justin Godart, Depute, ancien 
Sous-Secretaire d’fitat du Serv- 
ice de Sante 
Herriot, Depute, Maire de Lyon 
Rameil, Depute 
Bokanowski, Depute 
Henri Rousselle, President de la 3d 
Commission du Conseil General 
Chausse, Conseiller Municipal, 
rapporteur general du Service 
des Aliens 
Frederic Brunet, Conseiller Munic- 
ipal 
Dr. Calmels, Conseiller Municipal 
Lalou, Conseiller Municipal, 
Rapporteur general du budget 
Henri Sellier, Conseiller General 
Dr. Navarre, ancien Depute 
Dr. Doizy, ancien Depute, ancien 
President de la Commission de 
l’Hygiene Publique 
Dr. Mourier, Directeur general de 
l’Assistance publique 
Constantin, President du Comite 
des Inspecteurs g6n6raux au 
Ministere de l’lnterieur 
Dr. Rouget, Medecin Inspecteur 
general, Directeur du Service de 
Sant6 du Gouvernement mili- 
taire de Paris 
Lapie, Directeur de l’Enseigne- 
ment primaire au Ministfcre de 
l’lnstruction Publique 
Lefebvre, Directeur de l’Enseigne- 
ment primaire de la Seine 
Honnorat, Directeur k la Pr6fec- 
ture de Police 
Jouhannaud, Directeur des Affaires 
Departementales la Prefecture 
de la Seine 
Verley, Sous-Directeur, Chef du 
Service des Ali6n6s a la Prefec- 
ture de la Seine 
Dr. Comet, Medecin en Chef k la 
Prefecture de la Seine 
Michel, Conseiller & la Cour d’- 
Appel, Membre de la Commis- 
sion de Surveillance des Asiles de 
la Seine 
Reyrel, Directeur de l’Asile Sainte- 
Anne 
Scherdlin, Procureur de la R6pub- 
lique 
Rollet, Juge du Tribunal de la 
Seine pour enfants 
Laroque, Substitut du Tribunal 
pour enfants 
Meyer, Substitut du Tribunal de 
la 3d section 
Desmars, Directeur de 1’Assistance 
et de l’Hygi&ne Publiques au 
Minist&re de l’lntdrieur MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
401 
Dr. H. Bouquet, Ridacteur medi- 
cal au Temps 
Yvon Delbos, Rldacteur en chef 
de VEre Nouvelle 
Jean Finot, Directeur de la Revue 
Mondiale 
Latzarus, R6dacteur en chef du 
Figaro 
Victor Margueritte, President hon- 
oraire de la Sociitt des Gens de 
Lettres 
Larnaude, doyen de la Facult6 de 
Droit 
Edmond Perrier, Directeur hono- 
raire du Museum, membre de 
l’AcadSmie des Sciences 
MM. 
Aulard, Professeur k la Sorbonne 
Georges Renard, Professeur au 
College de France 
Dr. L6on Bernard, Professeur 
d’hygiene k la Faculty de 
mtdecine de Paris, membre de 
l’Acad6mie de Mtdecine 
Dr. Imbert, Professeur de physique 
biologique k la Faculty de m£de- 
cine de Montpellier 
Dr. Calmette, Sous-Directeur de 
l’lnstitut Pasteur, membre de 
l’Acad6mie de Mtdecine 
Emile Fabre, Administrateur de la 
Com6die-F rancaise 
Dr. Georges Dumas, Professeur de 
psychologie exp£rimentale i la 
Sorbonne 
Henri Pieron, Professeur k l’lnsti- 
tut de psychologie de l’Univer- 
sit6 de Paris 
MM. 
Lahy, Chef de travaux au Labora- 
toire de psychologie exp6rimen- 
tale de l’£cole des Hautes- 
fitudes 
Legendre, Docteur hs Sciences 
Dr. Pactet, M6decin en Chef de 
l’Asile de Villejuif, president de 
la Socittt mtdico-psychologiquc 
Dr. H. Colin, M6decin en Chef de 
l’Asile de Villejuif, secretaire 
g6n6ral de la Socittt Clinique de 
Mtdecine mentale 
Dr. Klippel, President de la Socittt 
de Psychiatrie 
Dr. Antheaume, President hono- 
raire de VAssociation amicale des 
Mtdecins des ttablissements pub- 
lics d'alitnes de France 
Dr. Toulouse, Medecin en Chef de 
l’Asile de Villejuif, rapporteur 
des projet de reforme de la 
Socittt midicale des asiles de la 
Seine 
Dr. Dupre, Professeur de Clinique 
des maladies mentales 4 la 
Faculty de mtdecine de Paris, 
Membre de l’Academie de m&ie- 
cine 
Dr. Chavigny, Professeur de Cli- 
nique des maladies mentales k 
la Facultl de mtdecine de Stras- 
bourg 
Dr. Lepine, Professeur de Clinique 
des maladies mentales, doyen de 
la Facultt mtdecine de Lyon 402 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
Dr. Raviart, Professeur de Clinique 
des Maladies mentales 4 la 
Faculti de mtdccine de Lille. 
Dr. Seglas, Doyen des m6decin* 
alidnistes des Hdpitaux de Paris 
Dr. Roubinovitch, M6decin de 
l’Hospice de Bicdtre 
Dr. Marcel Briand, m6decin en 
Chef de PAsile Sainte-Anne 
Dr. Vallon, M6decin en Chef de 
PAsile Sainte-Anne 
Dr. Legrain, M6decin en Chef de 
PAsile de Villejuif 
Dr. A. Marie, Mddecin en Chef de 
PAsile Sainte-Anne 
Dr. Truelle, Mddecin en Chef de 
PAsile de Ville-Evrard 
Dr. Capgras, M6decin en Chef de 
l’Asile de Maison-Blanche 
Dr. Juquelier, M6decin en Chef de 
PAsile de Vaucluse 
Dr. Simon, M6decin en Chef de 
PAsile de Vaucluse 
Dr. Arnaud, M6decin-directeur de 
la Maison de Sant6 de Vanves 
Dr. Lalanne, M6decin en Chef de 
PAsile de Mar6ville, Nancy 
Dr. Tissot, Mddecin en Chef de 
PAsile de Caen 
Dr. Genil-Perrin, Chef de Clinique 
4 la Facult6 de mSdecine de 
Paris 
In June, 1922, the Mental Hygiene Congress of Paris 
was held under the auspices of The French League for 
Mental Hygiene. Dr. Antheaume was Director-General, 
Dr. Genil-Perrin was Secretary General, and M. Lahy 
was Treasurer of the Congress. This important Congress 
was attended by representatives from several countries 
and the plan for holding an International Congress in 
the United States was approved. VIII 
The Belgium National League for Mental 
Hygiene 
The Belgium National League was founded at Brus- 
sels in 1921. Its President is Dr. Vervaeck and its 
Secretary is Mr. Dronsart, both of Brussels. 
CoMixf de Patronage 
S. E. le Cardinal Mercier, Arche- 
v£que de Malines 
M. Masson, Ministre de la Justice 
M. Berryer, Ministre de l’Int6rieur 
M. Carton de Wiart, ancien Min- 
istre de la Justice 
M. Vandervelde, ancien Ministre 
de la Justice 
M. Max, Ministre d’Etat, Bourg- 
mestre de Bruxelles 
M. A. Solvay, Ministre d’Etat. 
MM. les Gouverneurs des Prov- 
inces 
Comit£ Directeur 
President: M. le Docteur Ver- 
vaeck, Directeur du Service 
d’Anthropologie p6nitentiaire 
Vice-Presidents: MM.Comil, Pro- 
cureur du Roi; de Vogel, 
Directeur des Ecoles de Brux- 
elles; Dom, Directeur g6n6ral 
de la Bienfaisance; Dr. Ley, 
Professeur k l’Universit6 de 
Bruxelles; Dr. Sano, Directeur 
de la Colonie de Gheel; Silver- 
cruys, Conseiller k la Cour de 
Cassation; Benoidt, President 
du tribunal de Ire Instance de 
Bruxelles; Mgr. Van Reckem, 
Supfirieur gen6ral dessoeurs, de 
la Charity k Gand. 
Secretaire general: M. le Dr. 
Hoven, M6decin de l’Asile 
d’ali6n6s de Mons. 
Secretaire: M. Dronsart, Direc- 
teur de l’Ecole Centrale de 
Service social. 
Tresorier: M. le Docteur Hoede- 
makers. 
Conseillers: MM. les Docteurs 
Crocq, Duchateau, Glorieux, 
Heger-Gilbert, Lefevre, Pechere; 
M. Maus, Directeur g6n6ral de 
l’Office de la Protection de 
l’Enfance; Colonel Lemercier; 
M. Wets, Juge des enfants; M. 
l’Abbd de Hovre. 
Directeurs des Sections: MM. les 
Docteurs Decroly, Delattre, 
Portaels, Ley, de Moor, Boul- 
enger, Alexander, Heger-Gilbert; 
MM. Ruttiens, Buysse, Dron- 
sart, Christiaens, Willems. 
403 IX 
The Brazilian National League for Mental 
Hygiene 
Founded at Rio de Janeiro in January, 1923. 
President Dr. Gustavo Riedel 
Director of the Hospital “ Colonia de Alieanadas ” and of the 
Institute of Prophylaxis of Mental and Nervous Diseases. 
Vice-President Dr. Plinion Olinto 
Secretary-General Dr. Ernani Lopes 
President of the Republic Dr. Arthur Bemardes 
Minister of Interior and Justice Dr. Joao Luiz Alves 
Minister of Foreign Affairs Dr. Felix Pacheco 
Justice of the Supreme Court Dr. Alfredo Pinto 
Senator Dr. Sampaio Correa 
Senator Dr. Jos6 Eusebio 
Deputy Dr. Carlos Maximiliano 
Deputy Dr. Clementino Fraga 
Prefect of the Federal District Dr. Alaor Praia 
Honorary Members 
Municipal Councillors 
Dr. Cesario de Mello, Dr. Mario Piragibe, Dr. Guilherme Guinle, 
Antonio Gomes Pereira, Alfonso Vizeu, A. G. Fontes, and Dr. Linnen 
P. Machado. 
Honorary Presidents 
Prof. Juliano Moreira, Prof. Aloysio de Castro, Prof. Miguel Couto, 
Prof. A. Austregesilo, Prof. H. Roxo. 
Board of Directors 
Dr. Heitor Carrilho, Prof. Alvaro Osorio, Prof. Faustino Esposel, 
Dr. Murillo de Campos, Prof. Fernandes Figuerira, Dr. Zopyro Goulart, 
404 MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
405 
Dr. Garfield de Almeida, Dr. Mauricio Medeiros, Dr. Carlos Penafiel, 
Dr. Alberto Farani, Dr. Miguel Salles, Dr. Julio Novaes. 
I. Section of Dispensaries and Discharged Patients.—Dr. G. 
Riedel, Dr. R. Caldas. 
II. Section of Mental Deficiency.—Dr. Plinto Olinto, Dr. Olavo 
Rocha, Dr. Gustavo de Rezende, Dr. Manoel Bomfin. 
III. Section of Social Services.—Dr. Ernani Lopes, Dr. Adauto 
Botelho, Dr. Waldomiro Pires. 
IV. Section of Delinquents.—Dr. Heitor Carrilho, Dr. Ataulpho 
N. de Paiva. 
V. Section of Education and Social Legislation.—Dep. Dr. 
Carlos Penafield, Dep. Dr. Jos6 Augusto, Dr. Mello Mattos. 
VI. Section of Professional Work.—Prof. Alvaro Osorio de 
Almeida, Prof. Miguel Osorio de Almeida, Prof. Roquette Pinto. 
VII. Section of Neuro-psychiatric Teaching.—Prof. Faustino 
Esposel, Dr. Ulysses Vianna, Dr. O. Galloti. 
VIII. Section of Pedagogy.—Dr. Julio de Novaes, Dr. Joaquim 
Nicolau. 
IX. Military Section.—Dr. Murillo de Campos, Dr. Porto Carretro. 
X. Section of Propaganda and Publications.—Dr. Humberto 
Gotuzzo, Dr. Bueno de Andrada, Dr. Ernani Lopes, Dr. Amadeu Fialho. 
XI. Section of Infant Hygiene.—Dr. Fernandes Figuerra, Prof. 
Olinto de Oliveira, Prof. Nascimento Gurgel, Dr. Moncorvo Filho. 
XII. Section of Venereal and Mental Diseases.—Prof. Rabello, 
Dr. Zopyro Goulart, Dr. Gilberto Moura Costa. 
XIII. Section of General Diseases and Their Relation to the 
Nervous System.—Prof. Oscar de Souza, Prof. Dr. Oswaldo de Oliveira, 
Dr. Garfield de Almeida. 
XIV. Section of Surgical Diseases and Their Relation to the 
Nervous System.—Prof. Abreu Fialho, Prof. J. Marinho, Dr. Britto 
Cunha, Dr. Edilberto de Campos, Dr. Alberto Farani, Dr. Oscar Ramos. 
XV. Section of Legal Medicine.—Dr. Moretzohn Barboza, Dr. 
Miguel Salles. 
XVI. Section of Assistance to Indigents and Vagrants.—Prof. 
Mauricio Medeiros, Dr. Paul Camargo, Dr. Evaristo de Moraes, Dr. 
Franco Vaz. X 
Organizing Committee of 
The International Committee for Mental Hygiene 
370 Seventh Avenue, New York City 
Dr. Stephen P. Duggan, Chairman 
Clifford W. Beers, General Secretary 
Permanent Organizing Committee 
(To be added to from time to time). 
Dr. William L. Russell, Dr. Stephen P. Duggan, Mr. George McAneny, 
Mr. Howard B. Tuttle and Mr. Clifford W. Beers, representing the 
(U. S.) National Committee for Mental Hygiene. 
Dr. C. K. Clarke and Dr. C. M. Hincks of Toronto, representing the 
Canadian National Committee. 
Dr. Toulouse, Dr. Genil-Perrin, Dr. Antheaume and M. Delaitre, of 
Paris, representing the French League for Mental Hygiene. 
Dr. Vaervaeck and Dr. August Ley, of Brussels, representing the 
Belgian National League for Mental Hygiene. 
Sir Courtauld Thomson, of London, representing the British National 
Council for Mental Hygiene. (In process of formation.) 
Dr. John T. Dunston, of Pretoria, representing the South Africa National 
Committee for Mental Hygiene. 
Dr. Ralph A. Noble, of Sydney and Prof. E. Morris Miller of Hobart, 
Tasmania, representing the projected Australian National Committee 
for Mental Hygiene. 
Dr. Gustavo Riedel, of Rio de Janeiro, representing the Brazilian 
National League for Mental Hygiene. 
Dr. Shuzo Kure, Professor of Psychiatry and Director of the Psychiatric 
Clinic and Laboratory, Imperial University, Tokio, Japan. 
Dr. Edward Hume, of Changsha, Dean of the Medical School of Yale in 
China. 
Advisers 
Representatives of all affiliated national organizations together with 
leaders in various other fields are being appointed as Advisers to assist 
406 MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
407 
in carrying out the plan for an International Committee and an Inter- 
national Congress of Mental Hygiene. A complete list will be pub- 
lished in a future edition. A number have already agreed to serve as 
Advisers, among them being: Drs. V. V. Anderson, Lewellys F. Barker, 
Robert H. Bishop, George Blumer, G. Alder Blumer, Samuel A. Brown, 
C. Macfie Campbell, L. Pierce Clark, William B. Coley, George W. Crile, 
Harvey Cushing, Haven Emerson, Livingston Farrand, Walter E. Fer- 
nald, Bernard Glueck, Thomas H. Haines, Samuel W. Hamilton, C. 
Floyd Haviland, William Healy, Walter B. James, George M. Kline, 
Augustus S. Knight, Charles S. Little, Charles F. Martin, Henry W. 
Mitchell, Stewart Paton, Frederick Peterson, Austen F. Riggs, Arthur 
H. Ruggles, Colin K. Russel, Bernard Sachs, Thomas W. Salmon, M. 
Allen Starr, William H. Welch, William A. White, Frankwood E. 
Williams, C.E. A. Winslow, Milton C. Winternitz; also Mrs. William 
K. Vanderbilt, Mrs. John W. Blodgett, Miss Edith M. Furbush, Russell 
H. Chittenden, Charles B. Davenport, Irving Fisher, Homer Folks, Lee 
Frankel, William J. Hoggson, Samuel McCune Lindsay, Horatio M. 
Pollock and Robert M. Yerkes. XI 
DIRECTORY 
OF 
MENTAL HYGIENE ORGANIZATIONS 
National—International—State 
United States of America 
The National Committee for Mental Hygiene 
370 Seventh Avenue, New York City 
Dr. Frankwood E. Williams, Medical Director 
Clifford W. Beer$, Secretary 
Dr. C. J. D’Alton, Executive Assistant 
Organizing Committee of the International Committet 
for Mental Hygiene 
370 Seventh Avenue, New York City 
Dr. Stephen D. Duggan, Chairman 
ClifforrfW. Beers, General Secretary 
Canada 
The Canadian National Committee for Mental Hygiene 
102 College Street, Toronto, Canada 
Dr. C. K. Clarke, Medical Director 
Dr. C. M. Hincks, Associate Medical Director and Secretary 
France 
The French League for Mental Hygiene 
Dr. Toulouse, President 
Dr. Genil-Perrin, Secretary, 
99, Avenue de la Bourdonnais, Paris, France 
408 MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
409 
Belgium 
The Belgian National League for Mental Hygiene 
Dr. Vervaeck, President 
M. Dronsart, Secretary, Brussels 
Great Britain 
The British National Council for Mental Hygiene 
Sir Courtauld Thomson, Chairman 
59 Pont Street, S.W. i. London, England 
South Africa 
The South Africa National Committee for Mental Hygiene 
Address, Dr. Marius Moll, Bloemfontein, South Africa or Dr. J. T. 
Dunstan, Pretoria. 
Cape Province Society for Mental Hygiene 
Mrs. E. H. Lester, Honorary Secretary, Cape Town, S. A. 
South America 
The Brazilian National League for Mental Hygiene 
Dr. Gustavo Riedel, President, Rio de Janeiro 410 
A MIND THAT FOUND ITSELF 
United States 
Alabama Society for Mental Hygiene 
Dr. W. D. Partlow, Secretary, Tuscaloosa, Alabama. 
California Society for Mental Hygiene 
Miss Julia George, Secretary, 1136 Eddy Street, San Francisco, Cal. 
Connecticut Society for Mental Hygiene 
39 Church Street, New Haven, Conn. Dr. O. G. Wiedman, Medical 
Director, 
Mrs. Helen M. Ireland, Secretary 
District of Columbia Society for Mental Hygiene 
(In process of organization. Dr. D. Percy Hickling, Secretary, 1305 
Rhode Island Avenue, Washington, D. C.) 
Georgia Society for Mental Hygiene 
Address: Mr. Burr Blackburn, 6i§ North Forsyth Street, Atlanta, Ga. 
Illinois Society for Mental Hygiene 
5 North Wabash Avenue, Chicago, HI. 
Dr. Ralph P. Truitt, Medical Director 
Indiana Society for Mental Hygiene 
Paul L. Kirby, Secretary, 88 Baldwin Block, Indianapolis 
Iowa Society for Mental Hygiene 
(Not yet active. Address: National Committee, 370 Seventh Avenue, 
New York) 
Kansas Society for Mental Hygiene 
Dr. Florence B. Sherbon, Secretary, Mulvane Building, Topeka, Kans. 
Kentucky Society for Mental Hygiene 
(In process of organization. Address: National Committee) 
Louisiana Society for Mental Hygiene 
Dr. Maud Loeber, Secretary, 4124 Milan Street, New Orleans, La. 
Maine Society for Mental Hygiene 
(In process of organization. Address: Dr. F. C. Tyson, Augusta, Me.) 
Maryland Society for Mental Hygiene 
130 So. Calvert Street, Baltimore, Md. Dr. Chas. B. Thompson, 
Exec. Secretary 
Massachusetts Society for Mental Hygiene 
S Joy Street, Boston, Mass. 
Dr. George K. Pratt, Medical Director 
Michigan Society for Mental Hygiene 
(In process of organization. Address: National Committee) 
State Societies MENTAL HYGIENE MOVEMENT 
411 
Mississippi Society for Mental Hygiene 
Dr. J. H. Fox, Secretary, Jackson, Miss. 
Missouri Society for Mental Hygiene 
Dr. James F. McFadden, Secretary, Humboldt Building, St. Louis, Mo. 
(New York) Mental Hygiene Committee of the State Charities Aid Asso- 
ciation 
ios East 22d Street, New York City, Stanley P. Davies, Executive 
Secretary 
North Carolina Society for Mental Hygiene 
Dr. Albert Anderson, Secretary, Raleigh, N. C. 
Ohio Society for Mental Hygiene 
(In process of organization. Address: National Committee) 
Oregon Society for Mental Hygiene 
Professor Samual C. Kohs, Secretary, Portland, Ore. 
(Penna.) Mental Hygiene Committee of the Public Charities Association, 
419 South 15th Street, Philadelphia, Pa. 
Rhode Island Society for M ental Hygiene 
Miss Esther F. Greene, Exec. Secretary, 118 North Main Street, 
Providence, R. I. 
Tennessee Society for Mental Hygiene 
C. C. Menzler, Secretary, Nashville, Tenn. 
Virginia Society for Mental Hygiene 
Dr. William F. Drewry, Petersburg, Va. 
Wisconsin Society for Mental Hygiene 
(In process of organization. Address: Dr. William F. Lorenz, 
Madison, Wis.)