circular projection, which, being fastened to and
enclosing each of his arms, pinioned them
close to his sides. The effect of this
apparatus was that the patient could indeed raise
himself up so as to stand against the wall,
but could not stir one foot from it, could not
walk one step, and could not even lie down
except on his back; and in this thraldom he
had lived for twelve years! During much of
that time he is reported as having been
rational in his conversation. But for him, in
all those twelve years, there had been no
variety of any kind, no refreshing change, no
relief; no fresh air, no exercise; no sight of
fields, or gardens, or earth, or heaven . . . .
It is painful to have to add, that this long-
continued punishment had the recorded
approbation of all the authorities of the
hospital."

But the star of Bethlehem had then already
begun to shine effectually. Slowly the darkness
melted into light, but it lurked long in
many corners of the place—so long, that only
five or six years ago Bethlehem Hospital was,
on account of offences against light and
knowledge, which it was said to shelter,
made the subject of a parliamentary inquiry.
By that inquiry the authorities were roused
to energetic action. They had unwittingly
allowed the hospital to fall in several respects
behind some kindred institutions that kept
pace with the improving knowledge of the
day. In a liberal and earnest spirit they have
since been working to make good their error;
aided by a new superintendent at once
thoughtful and energetic, they now lead
where they used to lag upon the road.

One change that has been rather lately
made is characteristic enough of the rest.
The brickwork which, except a round hole or
a fanlight, used to fill up the outlines of what
would have been windows in an ordinary
house, has all been knocked away; the bars and
double bars between the patient and the light
have been uprooted; large well-glazed windows
with the glass set in light iron frames, that
look even less prison-like than thicker frames
of wood, have, throughout, been substituted
for the grated crannies which are still
preserved by Government in that part of the
hospital devoted to state prisoners; and in
this way the quantity of light and sunshine
let into all the rooms and wards has been
increased sevenfold, or even tenfold. It gives
life to the flowers in the wards, sets the birds
singing, and brightens up the pictures and
pleasant images with which the walls are all
adorned. Light has been let into Bethlehem
in more senses than one. It is now an
asylum of the most unexceptionable kind.
That is the second material fact in the case
which we shall presently be stating.

For, we have a special case to state nearly
concerning a large section of society, and
we are coming to it surely, although slowly.
But we must dwell for a little while upon the
pleasantness of Bedlam. We went over the
hospital a week or two ago. Within the
entrance gates, ns we went round the lawn
towards the building, glancing aside, we saw
several groups of patients quietly sunning
themselves in the garden, some playing on a
grass-plat with two or three happy little
children. We found afterwards that these
were the children of the resident physician
and superintendent, Dr. Hood. They
are trusted freely among the patients, and
the patients take great pleasure in their
presence among them. The sufferers feel that
surely they are not cut off from fellowship with
man—not objects of a harsh distrust—when
even little children come to play with them,
and prattle confidently in their ears. There
are no chains nor strait waistcoats now in
Bethlehem; yet, upon the staircase of a ward
occupied by men—the greater number of
whom would, in the old time, have been beheld
by strong-nerved adults with a shudder—
there stood a noble little boy, another
fragment of the resident physician's family,
with a bright smile upon his face, who looked
like an embodiment of the good spirit that
had found its way into the hospital, and
chased out all the gloom.

Except the detached building for women
which is under the direction of the State,
and in which are maintained criminals
discharged from punishment on the ground of
lunacy—and this dim building, full of bolts
and bars, in which male patients are herded
without system, is a bit of the old obsolete
gloom deserving of the heaviest censure, and
disgraceful alike to the Governors of the
Hospital and the Governors of the State—
except this, all the wards of Bethlehem are
airy and cheerful. In the entrance hall
there is a sharp contrast manifest upon
the threshold between past and present.
Cibber's two hideous statues of the madmen
of old, groaning in their chains, are
upon pedestals, to the right hand and the
left. Before us is a sunny staircase, and a
great window without bar or grating, except
that made by the leaves of growing plants.
The song of a bird is the first sound that
greets the ear. We pass from room to room,
and everywhere we find birds, flowers, books,
statuettes, and pictures. Thousands of middle
class homes contain nothing so pretty as a
ward in Bedlam. In every window growing
plants in pots, ferneries in Ward's cases.
Singing birds in cages, and sometimes, also,
baskets of flowering plants, are hung in two
long lines on each side of the room, and in
the centre of one wall there is, in every ward,
an aviary. All spaces between the windows
are adorned with framed engravings;—spoiled
prints, that is to say, impressions from, for
the most part, valuable and costly plates, in
which there is some flaw that might easily escape
the inexperienced eye, have been presented to
the hospital in great numbers by considerate
printsellers, and hundreds of these ornament
its walls, varnished, framed, and screwed