The Great Hospital had been founded by an eccentric old gentleman of
enormous wealth for an entirely original purpose. He observed that
great buildings were erected everywhere to receive patients suffering
from all imaginable bodily ills, chronic mania, of course, when the
brain was diseased, being one of them; but no one had thought of making
provision for such troubles, mental, moral, and religious, as affect
the mind; and he held that such suffering was as real, and, without
proper treatment, as incurable and disastrous, as any form of physical
ailment. He therefore determined to found an hospital for these unhappy
ones, which should contain every requisite that Divine Revelation had
suggested, or human ingenuity could devise, for the promotion of peace
of mind. The idea had grown out of some great mental trouble with which
he himself had been afflicted in early life, and for which the world,
as it was, could offer him no relief.
The first thing he did towards the carrying out of his plan was to buy
a site for his hospital near a growing town on the banks of a big
river. The building was to be surrounded by green fields, for the
colour is refreshing; and within sight of a great volume of calmly
flowing water, the silent power of which is solemn and tranquillising
to the spirit; and human society was to be within easy reach, for many
people find it beneficial. As soon as he had found the site, which was
entirely satisfactory, he set about maturing his plan for the building.
Such a scheme could not be carried out in a moment, and he spent thirty
years in travelling to study human nature, and architecture, and all
else that should help to bring his work to perfection. At the end of
thirty years he had finished a plan for the building to his own entire
satisfaction; but Mr. Ruskin had been growing up in the meantime, and
had begun to write, and the founder, happening to come across his works
by accident one day, discovered his own ideas to be wrong from
beginning to end. However, as it was the Truth he was aiming at, and
not a justification of himself, he calmly burnt his plans, put his
fingers in his ears (figuratively speaking) that he might not hear the
rest of the world bray, and for ten years more devoted himself to the
study of Mr. Ruskin. At the end of that time he knew something about
proportion, about masses and intervals of light and shade; about the
grandeur and sublimity of size, and the grace and beauty of ornament;
about depth and harmony of colour, and all the other wonders that make
one sick with longing to behold them; and when he had mastered all this
he determined to begin at the very beginning, that is to say, with the
walls that were to enclose his vast experiment. Everything was to be
real, everything was to be solid, everything had to be endowed with a
power of expression that could not fail of its effect. And as soon as
he felt he might safely begin, he hastened away to inspect the long
neglected site for his wonderful building. But here an unexpected check
awaited him. While he himself had been so hard at work, his future
neighbours had not been idle. The town had grown to a city; the river's
banks were crowded with wharves and human habitations; the river itself
cradled a fleet on its bosom, its waters, once so sublimely clear and
still, were turbid and yellow, befouled by the city sewers, and useful
only; and all that remained to remind him of what had once been were a
few acres of weeds enclosed by an iron railing--an eyesore to the
inhabitants of that region, as the Corporation told him, with a polite
hope that he would either build on it soon or leave it alone, which was
their diplomatic way of requesting him to hand the lot over to
themselves. And this he might have done had they said "Please;" but
when he found the young city so ignorant, he thought it his duty to
teach it manners, so he took a year or two more to consider the matter.
Then he perceived that if he built his house on the site as it was now
he should do even more good than he had intended, for the constant
contemplation of such a stately pile would help to elevate the citizens
outside the building, while those within might find comfort in seeing
themselves surrounded by even greater misery than their own.
And so the building rose and grew to perfection, and they found after
all that no better site could have been chosen for it; for from every
side as you approached it, it was seen to advantage, and the majesty
and power of it were made manifest. Outside, the design was so evident
in its grandeur that the mind was not wearied and perplexed by an
effort to understand; it was simply elevated to a state of enjoyment
bordering on exaltation--exaltation without excitement, and near akin
to peace. And the interior of the building as you entered it maintained
this first impression. Such ornament as there was touched you, as the
clouds do, with a sense of suitability that left nothing to be desired.
Art was so perfectly hidden that there seemed to have been no striving
for effect in decoration or construction, it looked like a work of
Nature, accomplished without effort, and beautiful without design; and
the mind brought under its influence, and left free of conjecture, was
gently compelled to revel in the peace which harmonious surroundings
insensibly produce. Disturbing thoughts vanished as being too common
and mean, too human, for such a place, and the spirit was soothed with
a sense of repose--of sensuous restfulness, really, for the pleasure,
as intended, affected the senses more than the intellect, which could
here make holiday. Work-wearied brains were thus eased from pressure,
and minds a prey to doubts and other disturbing thoughts which impaired
their strength, if they did not render them useless, were at once
relieved. And this was the beginning of the treatment which was
afterwards continued in other parts of the building, and by other
means, until the cure was complete--arrangements being made for the
removal of cases that proved to be hopeless to those older
establishments which have long existed at the expense of the country,
or as the outcomes of private enterprise.
Of course the staff of such a place had to be formed of men of a high
order. Some of these had been patients themselves, and had been chosen
on that account, it being thought that those who had suffered from
certain ills would be apt to detect the symptoms in others, and able to
devise remedies for them, which proved to be the case. The
establishment was munificently endowed and liberally supported, and the
Master, as he was reverently called, lived just long enough to see that
it was a success.
He had not thought of extending the charity to women, being under the
impression that no such provision was necessary for them. He
acknowledged that they had a large share of physical suffering to
endure, but asserted that Nature, to preserve her balance, must have
arranged their minds so as to render them incapable of suffering in any
other way. Sentimentality, hysteria, and silliness, he said, were at
the bottom of all their mental troubles, which did not, therefore,
merit serious attention.