Summary

A system of practical medicine… (1886)

There is a sort of sleep of the faculties of the soul, understanding, memory, and will, during which one is, as it were, unconscious of their working. A sort of voluptuousness is experienced, akin to what might [p. 343] be felt by a dying person happy to expire on the bosom of God. The mind takes no heed of what is doing; it knows not whether one is speaking or is silent or weeping; it is a sweet delusion, a celestial frenzy, in which one is taught true wisdom in a way which fills us with inconceivable joy. We feel as about to faint or as just fallen into a swoon; we can hardly breathe
Source: Gutenberg

A system of practical medicine… (1886)

We may meet with all degrees of recovery—from that which is absolutely complete and comparatively rare, through the case where a little want of play upon one side of the face, a little thickness of speech, a feeble or awkward grasp of the hand, betrays what has happened, or that of the man so often seen in the streets with a mournful or stolid face, the arm in a sling or dangling straight down by the side, and swinging one leg awkwardly around, to the helpless paralytic lifted in and out of his chair or lying almost motionless in bed, and living only to be fed and be kept clean.
Source: Gutenberg

A system of practical medicine… (1886)

The modern management of mental disease by rest, diet, baths, fresh air, occupation, diversion, change of scene, no more medicine than is absolutely necessary, and the least restraint possible—in a word, improving the patient's general condition, meeting the indications of his disease, diverting his mind from its morbid thoughts, or putting the brain in a splint, so to speak, as each case demands—gives much better results, the value of which is much diminished by the enormous increase in the size of our asylums and the great aggregation in them of diseased persons in all stages of insanity.
Source: Gutenberg

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