I thanked him, and, turning from the main road, we entered a
      grass-grown by-path, which, in half an hour, nearly lost itself
      in a dense forest, clothing the base of a mountain. Through this
      dank and gloomy wood we rode some two miles, when the _Maison de
      Santé_ came in view. It was a fantastic château, much
      dilapidated, and indeed scarcely tenantable through age and
      neglect. Its aspect inspired me with absolute dread, and,
      checking my horse, I half resolved to turn back. I soon, however,
      grew ashamed of my weakness, and proceeded. As we rode up to the gate-way, I perceived it slightly open, and
      the visage of a man peering through. In an instant afterward,
      this man came forth, accosted my companion by name, shook him
      cordially by the hand, and begged him to alight. It was Monsieur
      Maillard himself. He was a portly, fine-looking gentleman of the
      old school, with a polished manner, and a certain air of gravity,
      dignity, and authority which was very impressive. My friend, having presented me, mentioned my desire to inspect
      the establishment, and received Monsieur Maillard’s assurance
      that he would show me all attention, now took leave, and I saw
      him no more. When he had gone, the superintendent ushered me into a small and
      exceedingly neat parlor, containing, among other indications of
      refined taste, many books, drawings, pots of flowers, and musical
      instruments. A cheerful fire blazed upon the hearth. At a piano,
      singing an aria from Bellini, sat a young and very beautiful
      woman, who, at my entrance, paused in her song, and received me
      with graceful courtesy. Her voice was low, and her whole manner
      subdued. I thought, too, that I perceived the traces of sorrow in
      her countenance, which was excessively, although to my taste, not
      unpleasingly, pale. She was attired in deep mourning, and excited
      in my bosom a feeling of mingled respect, interest, and
      admiration. I had heard, at Paris, that the institution of Monsieur Maillard
      was managed upon what is vulgarly termed the “system of
      soothing”—that all punishments were avoided—that even confinement
      was seldom resorted to—that the patients, while secretly watched,
      were left much apparent liberty, and that most of them were
      permitted to roam about the house and grounds in the ordinary
      apparel of persons in right mind. Keeping these impressions in view, I was cautious in what I said
      before the young lady; for I could not be sure that she was sane;
      and, in fact, there was a certain restless brilliancy about her
      eyes which half led me to imagine she was not. I confined my
      remarks, therefore, to general topics, and to such as I thought
      would not be displeasing or exciting even to a lunatic. She
      replied in a perfectly rational manner to all that I said; and
      even her original observations were marked with the soundest good
      sense, but a long acquaintance with the metaphysics of mania, had
      taught me to put no faith in such evidence of sanity, and I
      continued to practise, throughout the interview, the caution with
      which I commenced it. Presently a smart footman in livery brought in a tray with fruit,
      wine, and other refreshments, of which I partook, the lady soon
      afterward leaving the room. As she departed I turned my eyes in
      an inquiring manner toward my host. “No,” he said, “oh, no—a member of my family—my niece, and a most
      accomplished woman.”

      “I beg a thousand pardons for the suspicion,” I replied, “but of
      course you will know how to excuse me. The excellent
      administration of your affairs here is well understood in Paris,
      and I thought it just possible, you know—”

      “Yes, yes—say no more—or rather it is myself who should thank you
      for the commendable prudence you have displayed. We seldom find
      so much of forethought in young men; and, more than once, some
      unhappy contre-temps has occurred in consequence of
      thoughtlessness on the part of our visitors. While my former
      system was in operation, and my patients were permitted the
      privilege of roaming to and fro at will, they were often aroused
      to a dangerous frenzy by injudicious persons who called to
      inspect the house. Hence I was obliged to enforce a rigid system
      of exclusion; and none obtained access to the premises upon whose
      discretion I could not rely.”

      “While your former system was in operation!” I said, repeating
      his words—“do I understand you, then, to say that the ‘soothing
      system’ of which I have heard so much is no longer in force?”

      “It is now,” he replied, “several weeks since we have concluded
      to renounce it forever.”

      “Indeed! you astonish me!”

      “We found it, sir,” he said, with a sigh, “absolutely necessary
      to return to the old usages. The danger of the soothing system
      was, at all times, appalling; and its advantages have been much
      overrated. I believe, sir, that in this house it has been given a
      fair trial, if ever in any. We did every thing that rational
      humanity could suggest. I am sorry that you could not have paid
      us a visit at an earlier period, that you might have judged for
      yourself. But I presume you are conversant with the soothing
      practice—with its details.”

      “Not altogether. What I have heard has been at third or fourth
      hand.”

      “I may state the system, then, in general terms, as one in which
      the patients were _menagés_—humored. We contradicted no fancies
      which entered the brains of the mad. On the contrary, we not only
      indulged but encouraged them; and many of our most permanent
      cures have been thus effected. There is no argument which so
      touches the feeble reason of the madman as the argumentum ad
      absurdum. We have had men, for example, who fancied themselves
      chickens. The cure was, to insist upon the thing as a fact—to
      accuse the patient of stupidity in not sufficiently perceiving it
      to be a fact—and thus to refuse him any other diet for a week
      than that which properly appertains to a chicken. In this manner
      a little corn and gravel were made to perform wonders.”

      “But was this species of acquiescence all?”

      “By no means. We put much faith in amusements of a simple kind,
      such as music, dancing, gymnastic exercises generally, cards,
      certain classes of books, and so forth. We affected to treat each
      individual as if for some ordinary physical disorder; and the
      word ‘lunacy’ was never employed. A great point was to set each
      lunatic to guard the actions of all the others.