A Letter from Bedlam

They have me chained in this noisome cell

With its smells, its moans and shrieks,

No wonder they call it Bedlam for

I haven’t slept in weeks,

They brought me here from the Bridewell,

For they said I was raving mad,

I swapped a cell for a place in hell

And the food in here is bad.

 

We’re chained and beaten by loutish guards

And starved and purged as well,

Unless we vomit and take the cure

They bleed us in the cell,

I see the others who beat their heads

On posts, and the old stone wall,

Hoping to join the peaceful dead

When they have no blood at all.

 

The rats will nibble at hands and feet

If we sleep too deep, and soon

You’ll hear the patter as hundreds scatter

About the cell in the gloom,

There are chains and shackles around my neck

My waist and my ankles too,

The only part is my beating heart

Where they can’t chain me from you.

 

I live with the shrieks and moans and groans

Of the most demented souls,

The prostitutes in their open cells

Who squat on the sewer holes,

A guard says he will take care of you

And I know just what he means,

Be true my love, he’ll take hold of you

And I know the man’s unclean.

 

I should have minded my temper when

I was walking in the yard,

Was cursed by the devil’s tempter, then

I hit the Bridewell guard,

I hang on tight to my sanity

For I never scream or shout,

And hope for the governor’s lenity

That they come and let me out.

 

The visitors come and they poke their fun

At the lunatics in here,

They hold their noses and spit at us

And they make their feelings clear,

We’re only scum in the world they’re from

If the fools could only see,

That our putrid state could be their fate

In seventeen sixty-three!

 

David Lewis Paget

 

Reviews

[Barbz]

He dwelled in pain and misery, perhaps his whole life long, was beat, and flogged and taunted, but held on to a song. A tiny little spark of love, in his heart would dwell, with hopes that she'd reject the guards who made him live in Hell. He had a hope of living free, without the snobs that judge, that they might face the force someday of those that held a grudge.

[A Soap Mess Stories]

It seems that love is the only thing that keeps us sane...

[R Smith]

that's a really sad story David, you captured the full horror of the asylum and in days long past the terrible conditions of life for those unfortunate enough to be considered insane, marvelous writing from you :)

[Marie]

What a terrible time that was. These unfortunate people weren't even thought of as human and were treated worse than animals. There may be much to complain about in the present day, but the past held plenty of squalour and misery.

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

What comes forth from pain and misery can be art itself alone, well done, good read!

[MomzillaNC]

While this may be fiction, the kinds of horrors described here were all too real. As bad as facilities are today, care facilities have come a long way. The way you lay out your tale paints a vivid picture of what folks in such places faced.

[Marie]

I totally agree with you. At one time it was thought that people could somehow be tortured into sanity...

[MomzillaNC]

It's appalling what stupidity man can achieve and convince themselves that stupidity is valuable "science."