ABSTRACT
Borromeo now assumed the command as to every thing that was necessary. Julian felt that the direction could not be placed in more competent hands, and, wrapping himself up in the compass of his own sensations, surrendered all his faculties to the agony of grief. His thoughts were disordered and wild; he fell in a short time into complete delirium. He ‘saw more devils than vast hell can hold;’ a 236he knew not where he was, nor what he was. He would not eat; he would not speak. Sometimes he comforted himself with the agitation of a madman, and uttered his voice in piercing shrieks; at others, he would subside into a state without / motion, without perception, and, as it seemed, without life. Whoever spoke to him, he heeded it not; whatever noise, whatever crash occurred near him, he perceived it not. But there was apparently a perpetual working of the inner senses, too feeble to produce any action of the limbs or features, too incoherent and unpronounced to be a subject of after-recollection. When he awoke out of one of these paroxysms, he appeared like a man recovered from an ecstacy; he stared about him for a time, and knew nothing. He did not shed a tear, though his countenance was the picture of despair. He slept neither night nor day.
