Not one, but several members of Emma’s ‘Gifford’ family had mental health problems. For example, on 25 July 1919 an ‘Order for Reception of a Pauper Lunatic’ was made by a London magistrate in respect of Emma’s niece, Lilian Gifford, who was to be sent for admission to the London County Council’s Claybury Asylum at Woodford Bridge, Essex. Lilian was described as aged 39, single, formerly a children’s governess employed at 50 Gayton Road (Harrow, north-west London), but most recently a resident of the Holborn Union Institution (or workhouse). The likelihood is, therefore, that Lilian’s mental illness caused her to lose her job. Whereupon, left with no means of support, she was admitted to the workhouse from where she was transferred to Claybury.
Dr E. Claude Taylor, who examined Lilian, described her symptoms, which had become more acute during the last two to three months, as follows:
Patient said she had been very worried lately, chiefly because of a gang of thieves she believed to be about, and against whom she had barred her doors, but she saw them about and could hear their voices which said they were using a microphone and were going to gas her; she showed me her leg which she said showed signs of dropsy (it did not) and said she would rather die than go through such an illness.1
This record, made by Dr Taylor, indicates that Lilian was experiencing a combination of visual and auditory hallucinations, and persecutory delusions (paranoia).
Claybury was a vast complex of buildings set in 269 acres of land; a stateof-the-art asylum, designed by architect George T. Hine of Nottingham, it opened in May 1893. At the time of Lilian’s admission, it housed in excess of 2,400 patients and contained a department dedicated to research into mental illnesses. Staff included a medical superintendent, several assistant medical officers, a matron, and both male and female medical nursing attendants. Claybury’s first medical superintendent, Dr Robert Jones (later Sir Robert Armstrong Jones), was a great advocate of the benefits of hydrotherapy, and from 1910 a Turkish bath was available for the use of the patients.2 (By the time of Lilian’s admission, Jones had been succeeded by Dr Guy Foster Barham.)
Private patients from London were charged 30s per week, and those from elsewhere £2 per week. Lilian, however, was admitted as a ‘pauper lunatic’3 because the money required for her maintenance came in whole or in part from public funds.4
Those who were able were expected to contribute to their upkeep by working either on the asylum’s farm and in the gardens, or in the workshops; the female patients worked mainly in the laundry or needle room, or on the wards. Apart from this ‘occupational therapy’, the importance of recreational and diversional activities were ‘fully recognized [and] dances, concerts, magic-lantern shows, country walks and outings formed part of everyday life’.5
The patients had their own library and newspapers were provided. As far as was possible, a homely atmosphere prevailed. Each ward was provided with its own birdcage, complete with canary, and pictures hung on the walls. Lilian, however, was far from happy to be a patient in such an institution, as will shortly be seen. An accompanying document to the ‘Order for Reception’ indicates that she was probably discharged from Claybury on 16 January 1920.
As for other members of the Gifford family, Emma’s brother, William Davie Gifford, who according to Emma was proficient at music, ‘emigrated after leading an irregular life’.6 Emma’s uncle, Philip Henry Gifford, died at the age of 20 ‘after a steep decline’.7 ‘Family papers’ elaborated on this ‘vague non-medical phrase by adding the words non compos mentis [not in right mind]’.8 This does not necessarily mean that Philip was mentally ill, though the possibility cannot be ruled out. Emma’s second cousin, Leonie Gifford, in a letter to Hardy dated 28 October 1913, stated that her father, Charles Edwin Gifford, then aged 70, was suffering from ‘a kind of nervous breakdown’ and was ‘very wretched’.9 And as for Leonie herself, she was reported to have had ‘a series of nervous breakdowns’ from her forties onwards.10
The most well documented case is that of Emma’s eldest brother, Richard Ireland Gifford. On 31 January 1888 Richard, then aged 53, single, and a civil engineer by profession, was examined by two surgeons, one of whom, William Joseph Square FRCS, stated as follows:
His aspect is sullen but excited. Says he has got himself into a deplorable, miserable state, that he must be destroyed, that he can live no longer, that his clothes are rotting about him, that he has not had his clothes off or washed himself for many weeks, that he has not been out of doors since late summer, that he can not meet people, and does not deny that he has attempted to destroy himself.
Said the other surgeon, J. H. Square May MRCS:
He stated to me that he could not go on; he was in such a filthy state, both inside and out, & that he must destroy himself, that he had tried to knock his brains out against the wall. He states that he is covered with vermin; this & his other statements are not the case.
Richard was suffering from delusions. Richard’s sister, Helen, confirmed to Square that the former had attempted to strangle himself with a rope, and had looked for a knife with which ‘to destroy himself’.
The following day, 1 February 1888, Richard was admitted as a private patient to Cornwall County Asylum, Bodmin. He was sent there by his father, John Attersoll Gifford, who the previous day had signed the ‘Reception Order’, in which he had stated that Richard was a ‘person of unsound mind’ who was suffering from ‘melancholia’ because of a ‘disappointment in marriage’ (meaning in his hopes of marriage, for Richard never married). Richard also had a ‘strong suicidal tendency’, his symptoms having been present for ‘about three weeks’.
Nine months later, on 5 November 1888, Richard was transferred, ‘uncured’, to Bethlem Royal Hospital, London, where it was again noted that he was ‘melancholic’ and also ‘suspicious’:
He is restless and much confused. Says his clothes are not his own, and believes he is ruined. During examination of his chest, he appeared suspicious of harm being done to him. He is generally [to be seen] walking up and down the gallery by himself, muttering a few unintelligible words. Seems in dread of something. Says he is only a boy of 25. Bites his nails and behaves like one.
On 6 February 1889 Richard was discharged, again ‘uncured’. His stay at home was, however, to be a short one, for on 15 March he was admitted to the Warneford Asylum, Headington, Oxford, where the records state as follows:
Patient was articled as a civil engineer but showed little aptitude, and his life has been dull and aimless, spent at home and without occupation. The first definite symptoms of insanity appeared in January 1888 and were attributed to some foolish love affair. He became violent and threatened to cut his throat.
Confused and emotionally depressed. Is not sure where he came from today. Speaks in a low and indistinct voice. Movements sluggish. Dress untidy. Paranoid. Converses with attendants and other patients in rational and playful manner. But to the medical officers he is obstinately silent and watches them during the visits in a furtive and suspicious way.
Whether Suicidal. Yes (attempts/threats by various means prior to admission).
It was also noted that Richard ‘plays on the piano occasionally and with considerable skill’.11
The Warneford Lunatic Asylum, ‘for the accommodation of lunatics selected from the higher classes of society’, was originally founded in 1826 as the Radcliffe Asylum, but renamed in 1843 after its greatest benefactor, the Revd Samuel Wilson Warneford (1763–1855).12 The asylum was run on humane lines, the patients (the preferred term to ‘inmates’, even from the early nineteenth century) being provided with books, magazines, card games and a pianoforte. In summer, they played croquet or shuttlecock and battledore on the lawn, and had supervised holidays in rented accommodation on the Hampshire coast at Southsea, and at Shanklin on the Isle of Wight. Male and female patients were strictly segregated, even when they attended chapel.
Relatives were not keen to advertise the fact that a member of their family was a ‘lunatic’. However, had anyone cared to consult the censuses (taken on the first year of each new decade), they would have found their names there. For example, on the 1891 census Richard’s details appear as follows: ‘RI Gifford, Patient, single, civil engineer, born: Clifton, Bristol, Gloucestershire, Lunatic.’13
Richard’s condition did not improve, as indicated by the asylum’s records:
Dec 1st 1898. Mental state childish. Most of the time is occupied with his great religious poem which requires a considerable amount of writing. Amuses himself by playing the piano. [It was also noted that the poem was ‘of interminable length on a Biblical subject’.]
Mar 1st 1899. Always busy with his poems … Some short ones are to be published first to get his name up, previous to the launching of his chefd’ oeuvre, the religious poem.
Dec 1st 1899. Still believes strongly in his poetic talent and is usually absorbed in his pursuit of the muse. He has an inordinate conceit both as to his looks and general attainments. He has a tremendous appetite.
Mar 1st 1900. At present engaged on a poem describing the Battle of Waterloo … Has great faith in the success which will attend the publication of his various works and is arranging for his discharge in order to attend to the details of publication. Enormous appetite and conceit of his personal appearance. [It was also noted that Richard was over 14 stone in weight and unwilling to participate in any activity such as gardening.]
Feb 26th 1901. Mind seems full of delusions e.g. that no one dies a natural death, that they are all strangled, that his food is filth and that his body is filth. That he has set the place on fire.
One cannot help but notice the similarity between Richard’s symptoms – those of a deluded person, childlike in nature, paranoid, and with a tendency to talk to himself – and those demonstrated by his sister, Emma. And was it a coincidence that Richard chose the Battle of Waterloo as the subject for the epic poem which he commenced in the year 1900? Had Richard heard, through one of the Gifford relations, that Hardy was currently working on his epic Napoleonic drama, The Dynasts (which he had ‘outlined and commenced the composition’ of three years earlier in 1897), and if so, was Richard deluded enough to believe that he could compete with his famous brother-in-law, and even outdo him?14
After fifteen years spent at the Warneford Asylum, Richard died there on 5 November 1904, aged 69; the cause of death being given as ‘Chronic Bright’s disease’ (or ‘glomerulonephritis’ – inflammation of the kidneys).15 The symptoms of chronic glomerulonephritis, in its latter stages, are fatigue, headache, generalised itching, drowsiness, confusion, delirium and seizures. There is no way, therefore, that this disease could have accounted for Richard’s symptoms of mental illness, as described above.
In death, as in life, the existence of ‘lunatics’ was not acknowledged, and Richard was no exception. As with his fellow patients, his body was buried in the cemetery of Holy Trinity church, Headington Quarry: the parish in which the Warneford Asylum was situated. Some tombstones of former Warneford patients survive from this period, but not Richard’s. It is possible that a wooden cross, which has since decayed, originally marked the place of his burial.16
It is sobering to reflect that, but for her marriage to Hardy, Emma might well, like her brother Richard, have spent her latter years in a mental asylum such as Warneford.
From the above, it is clear that mental health problems were present not only in first-degree relatives of Emma, but in more distant relatives of hers. Yet not all members of the Gifford family suffered from mental illness. In fact, many led perfectly normal lives and distinguished themselves in their careers. For example, Emma’s grandfather, Richard Ireland Gifford, was a schoolmaster; her brother, Walter Edwin Gifford, became an employee of London’s Post Office Savings Bank; her uncle, Edwin Hamilton Gifford, became Archdeacon of London; another uncle, Charles Frederick Gifford, became a doctor of medicine; a cousin, William George Gifford, was a British army royal engineer, and another cousin, Charles Edwin Gifford, was paymaster-in-chief of the Royal Navy.
Emma’s father, John Attersoll Gifford’s, offensive and inaccurate description of Hardy as ‘a low-born churl who has presumed to marry into my family’, indicates that he too suffered from delusions (chiefly of grandeur, in respect of the Gifford family name). Was he ever admitted to an asylum? It can be revealed for the first time that the answer is yes.
On 18 July 1859, when Gifford was aged 51 and living at 9 Bedford Terrace, Plymouth, he was admitted as a ‘second class’ private patient (at a fee of 16s per week) to the Cornwall Lunatic Asylum at Bodmin, as ‘a person of unsound mind’. The reason for his admission was stated as ‘Intemperance’, for a period of three months, but it was also recorded that his first ‘attack’ of this type had occurred when he was aged 27, and that he had previously been seen and treated by Dr Duck of Bristol (1834), and by Dr Richard Langworthy, surgeon and proprietor of the Lunatic Asylum, Plympton House, Plympton, Devon (1844, 1846, 1847, 1853, 1857, 1858).
Dr Thomas Anthony Stewart, of the Dispensary, 19 Princess Square, Plymouth, who signed the medical certificate, noted of Gifford:
Occasional great excitement and restlessness – uncontrollable desire for intoxicating drinks – which when indulged in leads him to commit acts of violence to others and [to display] great eccentricity of manner.
Yesterday he rang violently at my door and the servant found him very noisy and in a state of great excitement, without hat, coat or vest – surrounded by a mob … Knowing the patient well, I am sure he would not be guilty of such conduct if of sound mind. He also threatened to kill two of his sons.
The other doctor who examined Gifford, Dr Charles Hingston of Plymouth, stated of his patient: ‘I was informed by his Mother and Wife that he was extremely violent without any sufficient motive and that they were afraid of personal injury unless he were placed under restraint.’17 (Although chains, fetters and the straitjacket were still used at this time to restrain violent patients, isolation in a ‘padded cell’ – one lined with coconut-matting – was increasingly becoming the treatment of choice.)18
The duration of Gifford’s stay in the Cornwall Lunatic Asylum – which had its own farm, gardens and workshops, and which provided a wide range of periodicals for the benefit of its patients – is not known, but on 23 May of the following year, 1860, he was readmitted; the cause this time being given as ‘excitement at his mother’s death combined with drink’.
On this occasion, Dr Stewart reported as follows:
Manner irritable and violent, conversation incoherent and natural disposition and habits totally perverted. Of these I can speak with the utmost confidence as Mr. G has been well known to me [for] many years and has frequently suffered from similar attacks of maniacal excitement requiring restraint.
And Dr John Nicholls Stevens, surgeon to the Parochial Infirmary, Princess Place, Plymouth, stated:
Manner irritable, demeanour restless, frequently gives utterance to perverted ideas, has broken the windows of his home, injured the furniture, is very excitable and requires restraint.19
The medical records relating to these two admissions might lead to the conclusion that Gifford’s violent and irrational behaviour was occasioned by excessive drinking. However, medical notes relating to a third admission to the Cornwall Lunatic Asylum, On 24 October 1871, reveal that his problems were of a more fundamental nature. (Four years earlier, in 1867, the ‘Carew Building’ for private patients, named after the Right Honourable Reginald Pole Carew and his son William Henry Pole Carew – leading lights in the establishment and management of the asylum – had been opened on the same site. From 1873 the asylum held a total of 760 patients, of whom 50 were private.)
Now aged 64, and residing with his wife at Kirland House, Bodmin,20 it was noted that the ‘pre-disposing’ cause of Gifford’s present ‘attack’ was ‘intemperance’, and that he had suffered ‘five of six’ similar such ‘attacks’ in the past.
This time, Gifford was examined first by Dr Bartholomew G. Derry of Bodmin, who noted as follows: ‘Says he hears voices as of a man and woman disputing together – says he hears a voice speaking to him telling [him] he is the Lord Jesus Christ.’ And Dr Thomas Q. Couch of Bodmin, who noted in Gifford: ‘Great incoherency of speech; and great restlessness of manners. Says he cannot be mad, as he is only so in particular states of the wind! Has many delusions.’21
Finally, and most significant, is Gifford’s answer to the following question, asked of him by the two doctors who examined him: ‘Have any … relatives of the Patient been the subject of Insanity, or other, and cerebral disease?’To which Gifford replied: ‘Father.’
The conclusion is that Gifford suffered from auditory hallucinations and delusions, and that this, rather than drink, was the root of his problems. It may also be concluded that his father before him, Richard Ireland Gifford, experienced similar mental health problems. And it seems likely that it was on the advice – or possibly on the orders – of his doctor, that Gifford made the decision to relocate to Bodmin from Plymouth in 1860, because here he could be attended by the doctors and nurses of the town’s Cornwall Lunatic Asylum, who were skilled in the care of the insane.
Insanity, as has been demonstrated, played havoc with the lives of at least four generations of the Gifford family. How much insight each sufferer had into his or her individual illness is not known. However, the thoughts of the 80-year-old John Attersoll Gifford in January 1888, as he signed the document committing his son, Richard Ireland Gifford, to the Cornwall Lunatic Asylum – where he himself had so often been incarcerated as a patient – may be imagined.
The conclusion is, therefore, that some members of the Gifford family were genetically predisposed to mental illness, and that Emma was no exception. And as for those Giffords mentioned above who experienced mental illness, there is no question that their disordered lives impinged greatly and deleteriously upon those closest to them – Thomas Hardy being a case in point. No wonder Hardy’s acrimonious meeting with Emma’s father, John Attersoll Gifford, in the summer of 1872 had come as such a shock to the young man.
One day, in the not too distant future, the genetic basis for what are regarded as mental disorders, such as paranoia and delusions, and the mechanism by which they are transmitted from one generation to another, will be elucidated in more detail. And this, in turn, May lead to a cure for these conditions.