It was during the reign of terror, and while all France labored under a new form of insanity, that the idea was first conceived of setting loose madmen from their bonds. The good and wise physician, Pinel, seems to have been struck with the injustice of keeping the patients chained in the dungeons of Bicetre, while so many hundreds of his countrymen, more mischievously distracted than many of them, were at large to work the bloody frolics of the revolutionary frenzy. There were at that time upwards of 300 maniacs chained in the loathsome cells of the horrible Bedlam of France. Pinel formed the resolution of setting them free from their strict restraint, and he entreated permission of the Commune to that effect. Struck with the novelty of the enterprise, at that time a sufficient recommendation before any assembly in France, the Commune listened to the proposal, and deputed one of their body, the notorious Couthon, to accompany the physician to the spot, and judge of the propriety of carrying his undertaking into effect. They were received by a confused noise—the yells and vociferations of some hundreds of madmen, mixed with the sounds of their clanking chains, echoing through the damp and dreary vaults of the prison. Couthon turned away with horror, but he permitted Pinel to pursue his enterprise. The philanthropist resolved speedily to liberate fifty of the number by way of experiment, and began by unchaining twelve of the most violent. The account of his proceeding has been recorded by his nephew, Sclyion Pinel, in a lively narrative, which was read before the Academy of Sciences. The first man set at liberty was an English captain. He had been forty years in chains, and his history was forgotten by himself and all the world. His keepers approached him with dread; he had killed one of their comrades by a blow with his manacles. Pinel entered his cell unattended, and accosted him in a kind and confiding manner, and told him that it was designed to give him the liberty of walking abroad, on condition that he would put on a waistcoat that might confine his arms. The madman appeared to disbelieve; but he obeyed. His chains were removed, and the door of the cell was left open. Many times he raised himself and fell back; his limbs gave way; they had been ironed forty years. At length he was able to stand and to stalk to the door of his dark cell, and to gaze, with exclamations of wonder and delight, at the beautiful sky. He spent the day in the enjoyment of his newly-acquired privilege; he was no more in bonds; and during the two years of his farther detention at Bicetre, assisted in managing the house. The next man liberated was a soldier, a private in the French guards, who had been ten years in chains, and was an object of general fear. His case had been one of acute mania, occasioned by intemperance—a disorder which often subsides in a short time under abstinence from intoxicating drinks unless kept up, as in this case, by improper treatment.