its origin in a blow on the head with the end of a round ruler-one of the gentle reprimands then so common with schoolmasters.

What must be the remorse of any father who, having exercised his right to inflict severe castigation for moral offences, finds, in the further progress of the case, that the depravity arose, ab initio, from disease within the skull! I cannot conceive a more intense anguish, except in the case of extravagant and ill-founded jealousy leading to the destruction of a faithful wife -when death has rendered compunction useless, and reparation impossible.

CHAPTER XVI.

CASE OF MR. PERCIVAL-REFLECTIONS-DISEASED VOLITIONS.

IN medical literature more or less directly treating of insanity, there is scarcely a book from which more instruction may be drawn by the physician, the moralist, and the philosopher, than the “Narrative of the treatment experienced by a GENTLEMAN during a state of Mental Derangement." We rise from a perusal of the tale with additional conviction of the soundness of the common adage, that "truth is stranger than fiction." The most vivid imagination never laid bare the human mind, and shewed its darkest recesses more perfectly, than this true narrative of mental suffering. I hope to make it conducive to important issues. Perhaps I feel still greater interest in the melancholy tale, from remembering the individual when a boy, and having formed an opinion of him at an early age. The work is published anonymously, but the author designates himself so clearly in the course of his narrative, that there is no indelicacy in removing a veil obviously intended to be transparent. He is the son of the late Prime Minister, Percival, who was shot in the House of Commons, by Bellingham, in the year 1812.

The work is suggestive of a multitude of reflections. It is, perhaps, the only instance on record, where a madman was able to retain in his memory all

the events of three years of insanity and delusion; and had I no other example to produce of the duality of the mind, it would be conclusive of a fact, which, when thoroughly established in the public conviction, will lead to consequences of the highest interest and importance.

The author was, I know, educated with the greatest care, but being of a highly nervous temperament, that is, having a brain easily excited, and probably a sympathetic system with a natural tendency to disorder, required an education of a totally different character from that which he received. Had he been sent into the navy at an early age, I do not doubt that he would have escaped the awful visitation.

The work is written with talent, and is perfectly consecutive and consistent; but it is obvious that the writer, although restored to society, has not yet entirely recovered from his delusions. I shall quote his own words extensively, and make the application as I go on; suggesting in brackets what I conceive to be the nature and progress of the disease.

He was one of that not very small class at our public schools who grow up with an excess of religious feeling quite incompatible with pari passu cultivation of the intellect. This remark will not seem unmeaning to men of experience-strong religious enthusiasm is a very dangerous accompaniment to the pursuit of literature by a young mind-and either the intellect or the health gives way under the double cultivation. The religion of the young and uneducated ought to be a religion of mere acquiescence; the religion of the highly cultivated and mature, a religion of investigation: the young and fragile brain, as yet not physi

cally developed, has not room for the rapid expansion which is produced by abstruse metaphysical and mysterious contemplation. The doctrines styled evangelical are so mystical and bewildering to the youthful inquirer, that a slight observation by parents and tutors would suffice to shew the very great danger of encouraging such incomprehensible abstractions. At twenty-five or thirty, when the brain is firmly formed, such speculations are comparatively harmless. I speak here alone of the effect on the physical organ in this examination of religion-the merits or demerits, truth or falsehood, of the doctrines, I do not attempt to decide. We see that men of the highest talent, education, and character, are about equally divided on the subject: one half strongly condemning, and the other half enthusiastically applauding these views of what is called Evangelical Christianity. We leave the decision to clergymen.

"At the age of seventeen," says Mr. Percival, “I left the public school, at which I had passed seven years, not without credit, and went to study with a private tutor." At eighteen he had a commission in a cavalry regiment, and afterwards in the Guards, where he passed his time quietly and unobserved. He had been brought up, like most of the sons of men of rank and fortune till near manhood, with scrupulous morality: the license of a mess-room shocked him. "I had at school three or four friends, and no very extensive general acquaintance. If I was remarkable in society for anything, it was for occasional absence of mind, and for my gravity and silence when the levity of my companions transgressed the bounds of decorum, and made light of religion, or offended against morality.

In private I had severe conflict of mind upon the truth and nature of the Christian religion, accompanied with acute agony at my own inconsistency of conduct and sentiment with the principles of duty and feeling taught by Jesus and the Apostles. . After

several years inward suffering and perplexity, I found at last, for a time, peace, and joy, and triumph, as I imagined, in the doctrines usually styled evangelical." He next begins to preach to the men, procures seats for them in a separate chapel, and harangues them. Remonstrances arrive from Colonel and Chaplains; he becomes more and more confirmed in his enthusiasm; is led by a passage in the New Testament, "choose liberty rather than slavery," and withdraws from the army. Goes to the University-forms acquaintance with young men of similarly heated imagination— attends Baptist and Independent meeting-houses-becomes a believer in miracles-sees visions-has spirits come to him-desires to go to Glasgow, to examine into the miracles of the unknown tongues which were performing there-wakes in the night to pray-expects the Holy Ghost to visit him-goes to the seat of miracles at Row-becomes acquainted with that strange aggregation of dupes and impostors-and along with that extraordinarily gifted man, Erskine, becomes decidedly deranged in mind.

"Ovid's description of the inspiration of Pythagoras," says he, "tallied with my experience; the voice was given me, but I was not master of it-I was but the instrument." He uttered ideas which seemed not his own, and even sang involuntarily. [One brain is now disordered, and approaching to positive disease. Consciousness remains in the sound brain, which naturally