1HE MONOMANIAC. 201 



for his integrity in business, and admired for his attractive manners 

 and sound sense in general society. His wife was fair and exem- 

 plary ; his children numerous, and his circle of friends many and 

 sincere ; so that altogether his lot might be termed truly enviable 

 Alas ! for the evanescence of joy ! One evening Mr. Hill (the name 

 I shall bestow upon him) took his family to Drury-lane Theatre, for 

 the purpose of witnessing the unrivalled Kean, and scarcely less gifted 

 Rae, in the characters of King Lear and Edgar, and that evening 

 afforded a striking testimony to the knowledge our Shakspeare pos- 

 sessed of nature. In that scene where the banished king falls a vic- 

 tim to Edgar's deceit, Hill felt strangely and painfully interested ; 

 he drank in every visionary word, he watched every turn of counte- 

 nance, until, as the eye of Kean brightened with the lurid ray of 

 madness, his soul, mind, reason and all rocked with fearful motion in 

 in his brain ; his ideas ran riot after strange and wild imaginings ; 

 and, casting a maniac's glare upon his wife, he muttered, " Take me 

 away ! I, too, am mad." 



Nothing could banish this conceit from the mind of Hill. Every 

 effort of skill was useless in the attempt to restore him to himself, 

 and he was at length consigned, at his own peremptory desire, to 

 imprisonment in a madhouse. I shall not soon forget my first inter- 

 view with him. Having the range of the place, I visited his room 

 alone, and found him buried in profound abstraction ; my approach, 

 however, roused him, and he surveyed me for some time with a look 

 rather of surprise than phrenzy. At last he rose, and, in a tone of 

 expostulation, said, " This is very injudicious of you, sir ; how can 

 you think of coming here unaccompanied by the keeper ?" 



As my object was to trace the workings of his unsettled brain, I 

 resolved to treat him as a sane person, and accordingly inquired 

 why the presence of another person was necessary to my safety. 



" For every reason of prudence in the world. I am mad." 



" Indeed !" 



" Indeed, sir ! Ay, mad as a March hare ; and had I been in one 

 of my frantic fits when you entered, your corse might have now been 

 lying piecemeal at my feet," said Hill, his eye-balls rolling wildly. 



" Then it is only at intervals that you are mad," I observed. 



" Hush/' cried he, pressing his finger to his lip, (C I think I'm 

 asleep now, so speak softly. With regard to the remark you have 

 just made, it is not so: reason has, unhappily, fled for ever, and I 

 am doomed to quit my family and home to keep watch over myself, 

 lest I do any mischief." 



" But how is this ?" I asked, " you appear to consider yourself as 

 divided : as two persons." 



" Well, sir !" said Hill, " en't I mad ? Did you never read in Joe 

 Miller's book of jests how a person, named Man, met a maniac, and, 

 thinking to terrify him, told him not to approach, as he was a Man 

 by name and a man by nature; but the insane with a wit, truly 

 Sheridanic, replied, ' I am a man beside myself, so we two will fight 

 you two.' ' 



I could not smile at this jest it was too bittter, so I changed the 

 subject, and found him sensible and well-informed in all matters, 



M.M.No. 98. 2D 



