Probably his astonishing correctness in delivering messages, &c., in the midst of so much apparent confusion of mind, may be thus explained:—From the pre-eminence of his good nature, the desire to please still retains some hold over the rest of his faculties, and, perhaps, also over the extreme extravagance of his conversation, which may arise from the same cause. We have only to imagine, that his erroneous tales were, in the first instance, listened to (a fact, this, of injudicious treatment, which is too common,) with seeming assent and delight, until he found, from daily experience, that to please others, he had only to encourage his foolish thoughts, and utter them, and then the habit would insensibly grow upon him, until it became inveterate; and hence is explained another singularity about him,—that in his present manner of talking, it appears as if he were talking absurdly for the very purpose of amusing others. It is now, however, certain, that it would be not only useless, but cruel, to try, by direct means, to prevent it. Yet, though we are not to tease and vex him, by contradiction, or by refusing to listen to his tales; it ought to be remembered, that in this and all other cases, we ought never, on any account, to violate the truth.
Though we should never forget to exercise prudence, we must be careful that truth still presides at the helm, otherwise it may degenerate into cunning; then what we call prudence, is vicious and mischievous; and yet, men persuade themselves while doing so, that some evil is avoided, or some good is secured. No power of the mind should ever be so exercised, as to require the suspension or sacrifice of another. To exercise every virtue in its place, and to give to each “its relative and appropriate share,” is the perfection at which we should ever aim. This principle, as it is the best prevention, so also it is the best remedy in the cure, of insanity.
No statement of this case, from which any information can be drawn: it is, however, certain, that insanity is in the family.
Among the old cases, we have none that arrests the attention of strangers so much as this, and he never fails to attract the gaze of idle curiosity. His habits of circumgyration, with sudden stops and starts,—his strange air of abstractedness, a sort of excogitative look, apparently puzzled to find something out,—odd way of talking to himself, as if he himself were some other person, saying, “what a noise the fellow makes,” “I think the fellow’s a fool,” and striking his face in apparent anger,—strange mode of mentioning names once familiar to him,—putting a question,—seeming to listen, and giving an answer quite foreign to it, are most striking, and such as no descriptive powers can enable another to conceive, without seeing him. When noticed or teased, and sometimes without, he strikes and scratches, in a way that would seem either like a bad habit that had been taught him; or half frolic and half mischief, and which, by provocation, becomes more serious; otherwise, he is sensible of kind treatment; and now, from increasing age, and perhaps from being, on the whole, less teased, he exhibits less of this disposition. This state of continued exertion and restlessness, is followed by a proportional degree of depression, and, after being recruited by sleep, returns. These regular alternate states of excitement and restlessness, of depression and sleep, last each for several days, and this for many years’ duration. When most excited, he makes a strange loud singing noise, stamps with his feet, strikes his head and face, and exhibits various incommunicable indications of surprise, pleasure, or anger, just as his mind happens to be agitated, like one in a dream, with the floating and shattered images of times gone by, passing confusedly through his mind.