A touching poetic lament written for a squirrel named Jack will be displayed publicly for the first time this week at London's Bethlem archives. The poem was penned by James Hadfield, who lived alongside his beloved pet in one of the world's most famous psychiatric hospitals during the early 19th century. The rare manuscript will be featured in a new exhibition showcasing previously unseen works that explore the intersection of mental health and artistic expression.
Bethlem Royal Hospital, which was founded in 1247 and is now located on the outskirts of southeast London after several relocations, was the original "Bedlam" and holds the distinction of being the world's oldest psychiatric hospital. Beyond its historical significance in mental health treatment, the institution houses a remarkable collection of artwork created by former patients and contemporary artists who address mental health themes. The hospital operates its own dedicated museum building, the Bethlem Museum of the Mind, which regularly hosts public exhibitions.
The latest exhibition, titled "Between Sleeping and Waking: Hospital Dreams and Visions," opens on August 14 and features numerous works by former patients alongside a major installation called "Night Tides" by contemporary artist Kate McDonnell. The show explores the complex relationship between dreams, visions, and mental health experiences through various artistic mediums.
James Hadfield and his squirrel Jack were both confined for life at Bethlem in the early 1800s—Jack as a cherished pet and Hadfield following his attempted assassination of King George III during a theatrical performance at Drury Lane theatre. Hadfield, who had sustained serious injuries during his military service, was suffering from religious mania and had become convinced that England could only be saved if he were executed by the authorities for committing a capital crime.
On May 15, 1800, when King George III rose in the royal box for the national anthem, Hadfield fired a pistol but missed his target. According to contemporary trial records, the failed assassination attempt caused great panic throughout the theater. Hadfield was immediately thrown over the rails into the orchestra pit and dragged to a room beneath the theater building.
Hadfield's subsequent successful insanity plea saved him from execution for treason and helped establish important legal precedent for future mental health defenses in capital cases. This landmark case undoubtedly saved the lives of many other individuals experiencing mental illness who were accused of serious crimes. The legal precedent demonstrated that mental illness could be a mitigating factor in criminal proceedings.
During his confinement at Bethlem, where he remained until his death in 1841, Hadfield became something of a minor celebrity among visitors and staff. He regularly received visitors in his cell, where he would trade his original poems and drawings depicting his various pets in exchange for snuff and tobacco. These creative works provided him with both a means of expression and a form of currency within the hospital environment.
The lament for Jack represents one of the rare surviving examples of Hadfield's poetry, carefully preserved in the hospital's extensive archives. In the touching verse, Hadfield expresses deep guilt and sorrow, writing that he blames himself "for the fate of my little darling Jack who with a little fall almost broke his back, and I myself was the occasion of that, by letting him be frightened by a cat." The poem reveals that the mortally injured squirrel "alas never danced a hornpipe more" after the tragic accident.
However, Jack's presence continued to comfort Hadfield even after the animal's death. As the poem reveals, Hadfield arranged to preserve his beloved companion, writing: "Now in remembrance of his pretty tricks, I have had him stuffed that I might not him forget." This touching detail illustrates the deep bond between the man and his pet, and how that relationship provided solace during his lifelong confinement.
