Asylum Seeker

This week, I watched a TV programme about asylums in England, in the 19th and early 20th century.  This got me thinking about my Great Grandmother Hannah, who died in an asylum in 1923, as far as I know.  The story goes that she was admitted with 'milk fever' following the birth of my Grandfather James.  Now, I assumed that this meant, somehow, Hannah had developed some kind of infection shortly after the birth, which had given her fever, hallucinations, who knows what?  People were committed to asylums for all kinds of reasons at the time, reasons which, these days, are totally treatable, in a non committal way. 

Reasons for admission to a lunatic asylum were; (seriously;) asthma, female disease (?) time of life (?) woman trouble (?) novel reading (really?), menstrual deranged, marriage of son, egotism, epileptic fits, kicked in the head by a horse, laziness, business trouble, immoral life, mental excitement, parents were cousins, grief, snuff eating for 2 years, desertion by husband, feebleness of intellect.

Judging by the descriptions, you had one foot in an asylum if you were female.

Need I go on? Are we agreed that we would all be in there for one reason or another, be it kicked in the head by a horse, parents were cousins, or menstrual derangement, who hasn't been there?

I've searched for 'milk fever' and the entry I found related to a person drinking infected milk.  We'll never know I guess, or at least, we won't know until more records are accessible online.

So far, my cousin Lyn has managed to pinpoint Hannah on the 1891 census, classed as a 'lunatic' and living in an asylum.  I feel quite sad at the thought of her being incarcerated there and I can't imagine  that she had many visitors.  Nor can I imagine being locked away from anyone and everyone I know and love.  My Grandfather James was the youngest, so she was separated from her children, plural.

I've visited Hannah's grave many times since I was very small but I'm ashamed to say that I never really gave her much thought.  Still, even without the full story, I have a  new respect for her.  I was told that she, Hannah, had 'milk fever', that Grandad, her son had visited her, and that she died in an asylum in 1923.  Hannah must have been around 60 years of age when she died and while I have quite a few missing puzzle pieces, it's looking like she spent half of her life within an asylum. 

Ironically, Hannah died the very same year as her husband, after all those years apart, and they are buried together.

I would love, one day to investigate Hannah's story and fill in all of the blanks, piecing together her life. 

The next time I visit Hannah's grave, I will take flowers, especially for her.  Without her, there would be no James, without James, there would be no Dorothy, and without Dorothy, there would be no...