assumed the character of a refuge for the crazy
devotees of St. Dymphna. They, unmolested,
either worked out their cure, or, soothed by the
kindness they met with and by the tranquillity
which pervaded this lonely spot, passed their
monotonous days in unwonted peace.

So runs an old legend; but the place to which
it refers still exists, and still is a refuge for
insane persons. Its modern name is Gheel.
Its position is in a corner of Belgium. It was
visited within two years by Dr. Edward
Neuschler, who passed nine days at this fantastic
colony in September, 1866,* and who observed
it at his leisure, sometimes alone, sometimes
accompanied by the medical superintendent, Dr.
Bulkens.
* See the Journal of Mental Science for April,
1867.

The métier of the village of Gheel is and
has been from time immemorial the entertainment
of the insane. Each householder who by
good conduct and tact has earned a medical
certificate is qualified to receive one, or
occasionally two such lodgers. The rate of
payment now is from sixty-five to eighty-five
centimes daily. But you will say, the lodger's
board alone must cost a host as much. Has the
memory of St. Dymphna so practical an
influence, or is philanthropy so rife at Gheel that
this semi-Flemish, semi-Walloon people,
themselves poor cultivators of the soil, should thus
devote themselves to the weal of their suffering
fellow-creatures from out all lands? No, and
at this point we must observe how the miracle
changes its character; for does it not remain a
miracle that such hosts should find it answer to
entertain such lodgers?

The origin of Gheel certainly rests on the
local basis of religious devotion to St. Dymphna,
and on this account the inhabitants have for
more than a thousand years been accustomed
to that daily intercourse with the insane which
has developed tact in their treatment, at the
same time that vulgar prejudices have been
shaken off. But to this, as to most practical
questions, the test of gain must be applied on
the one side, if of happiness on the other. To
me it does not appear the least part of the
wonder, that experience should show, as I
believe it to do, that these afflicted members of
society (whom we have been accustomed to
consider in every sense burdensome, even to
those to whom they are closely knit by ties of
love), should not only find among strangers a
happy home of comparative freedom, but that
they should so contribute by their personal
exertions to the income of their hosts, that for
the trifling addition of sevenpence per day, they
should be eagerly sought after as lodgers. A
little attention, however, will, I think, enable us
to understand how, and to what extent, the
system answers at Gheel, and why it would not,
save perhaps in a very modified form, answer if
introduced in England.

Those who are at all conversant with peasant
life on the Continent, understand what Arthur
Young calls the magic of property; the alchemy
which converts even rock and sand into gold.
The small proprietor who can make the work of
his little children profitable, knows how to
utilise the spasmodic efforts of the deficient
and crazy. The latter, if he sometimes finds
labour irksome, is on the whole a great gainer
by sharing the interests and sympathies of the
sane with whom he is hourly associated, and by
feeling that he is a useful member of society.
I believe that added to the inestimable
influence of old tradition, the prevalence of
peasant proprietorship and the cheapness of land,
are among the great secrets of the success of
the Gheel system. That it is a success, for, at
all events, a large proportion of lunatic cases
will, I think, be proved by Dr. Neuschler's
account of what he saw.

On the day of his arrival at Gheel, he
attended an al fresco musical entertainment, and
mixed freely with the audience, a large number
of whom were insane: a fact which he says
would have been hard to discover unaided. In
the doctor's subsequent walks in and along
Gheel, he saw whole families busy working in
the fields. It happened to be the season of the
potato harvest, and sane and insane were
occupied in collecting and storing the crop, with
apparently equal interest. Sometimes side by
side with the nourriciers or care-keepers,
sometimes alone, or only accompanied by a child,
the crazy colonists were labouring heartily.
Instead of working under, they appeared to be
working with their hosts: a system which must
tend to lighten their labour.

Locke's recommendation for children of "a
little wholesome neglect," applies to these
innocents, the graceful French name for the insane.
In the houses, the sight that meets the eye is
scarcely less gratifying. Here in the common
room are found seated at the fire in company
with the old people, women, and small children,
the insane who are unfit for field labour—not
however idle—for animated by the society of
busy companions, most of the patients find
congenial employment. Some help in the house,
amuse the children, or take care of the pig, the
invariable member of a nourricier's household.
Others follow the handicraft learnt in earlier
and happier days. But when possible,
outdoor labour is so universally pronounced the
best and healthiest for mind and body that it is
chiefly in the towns that the crazy artisans are
seen plying their trades. Tailors, shoemakers,
carpenters, blacksmiths, and saddlers, convert
the lodgers' chambers into ateliers, while the
women employ themselves according to their
tastes and capabilities in netting, knitting,
sewing, and lace-making. I say employ themselves
advisedly, for Monsieur Jules Duval, the champion
of Gheel, is amply borne out in his assertion,*
that not only does the no restraining
system tend to the happiness of the patients
themselves, but that when the host, instead of
being regarded as a policeman or taskmaster, is
* Gheel, ou une Colonie d'Aliénés, par Jules Duval.