I.
The Hypnotic Experiment of Dr. Reeves.
Dr. Edward Reeves, the celebrated Rheumatism Specialist, is not a favourite with the members of his profession. His methods of treatment being unknown, coupled with his refusal as yet to divulge them, have given his enemies and rivals a chance to accuse him of charlatanism; but to the great rheumatic public he has become a demi-god; and as long as our changeable climate continues to nurture this disease, his idiosyncrasies will be overlooked by the multitudes whom he relieves.
In his genial moods, the doctor tells many curious anecdotes, and how some of his daring experiments were made under rather romantic circumstances. One of the strangest of them can best be told in his own language:
“Some time ago, I had, among my patients, a young man who interested me from the first. He came to my private hospital for treatment of a severe form of rheumatism of the heart; he was attended by a younger brother, whose devotion struck me as remarkable, until I became better acquainted with the invalid, and discovered how worthy he was of it all. He seldom spoke of himself, except his one great desire to get rid of the subtle disease that overshadowed his life, and he seemed anxious to aid me in every way with the treatment Evidently wealthy, gifted, and just about eight-and-twenty, it seemed almost impossible to believe his bright young life was constantly threatened by the convulsive attacks which had become more and more frequent.
“Unlike most of my patients afflicted by the same trouble, he did not respond to the usual remedies; and I realized that if his life were saved at all it must be by employing heroic measures. However, sure that the disease was lessening its hold in general, and only needed driving away from a vital point, I awaited developments.
“Late one evening, as I was seated in my study, puzzling my brain with some questions of hypnotic influence over patients at critical moments, my night bell rang. I went to the door myself, and found there the nurse of my young friend, who told me my presence was desired at once, as the most alarming symptoms had reappeared. Stepping back for my hat, my eyes fell upon the book of Experiments in Hypnotism, which an old Professor in Paris had sent me, remembering my absorbing interest in Charcot’s specialty, and a certain power I had developed when a student in the Latin quarter. This power I had used to tranquillise nervous patients, or to play practical jokes on my friends, after the manner of most young medical students who discover they have any skill in this direction. An idea occurred to me—Why not inoculate my patient with the powerful amount of virus required to drive the disease finally from the dangerous region of the heart, while he is in a hypnotic condition?
“In an instant after, all the perils of the situation presented themselves: Do remedies act if the patient is under this influence? Will the final result be the desired one? Providing the pain be temporarily stilled, would it re-occur after the hypnotic influence had been removed?
“These and other doubts so disturbed me, that on my way to the hospital I determined to avoid taking any such measures, unless I found the patient actually dying.
“As I entered, I was met by the brother. He seemed plunged in despair.
“‘He is going fast, doctor,’ he said. ‘Can you do nothing?’
“Without a word I stepped to the bedside. I found my worst fears realized. At a glance I saw he would not survive the night unless the frightful spasms that were fast sapping his strength were arrested.
“As I took his hand and felt his pulse, he looked up past me at his brother, and gasped the one word ‘Annie.’
“‘Whom does he want?’ I asked.
“‘His fiancée, doctor. My brother was to have been married in a month; but when he knew that he was threatened with a probably fatal disease, he begged me to help him quite secretly to try this last chance for recovery; and so, although he is within a mile of his own house and that of his intended wife, no one but myself and his faithful servant is aware of it. To all our friends we are hundreds of miles away, looking after business interests. And now it has grown worse and worse, until he is dying, absolutely within reach of Annie, to whom he is madly devoted.’
“‘Will you be calm, and help me to make one last great trial?’ I asked.
“‘Great heavens! What can I do?’ he replied.
“‘Take my carriage; it is at the door; tell the coachman to drive his fastest to Annie’s house. Bring her back with you; and, above all, explain to her the situation, so that I can count on perfect calmness.’”
“Without a word he was gone, and as I heard the wheels leaving the door, I turned back to collect my thoughts for a moment before returning to the sick-room. I had to count on at least half-an-hour’s delay, and meanwhile to quiet this horrible pain and wait for Annie to help me.
“Once back in my patient’s presence, I took his hand, looked fixedly at him until his eyes caught mine. Then I said, ‘You must sleep now; Annie is coming, and you must be strong to see her.’
“At once a look of surprise, of joy, followed by one of despair, passed over his face. ‘I am dying, and you have sent for her,’ he murmured.
“‘Sleep,’ I said, this time completely fixing his gaze. Almost instantly the spasms ceased, and he sank back among his pillows like a tired child. Not noticing the look of astonishment in the face of the nurse (who was a faithful old valet of the invalid), I ordered him to send me the assistant-surgeon and a bright young woman nurse, whom I often selected for urgent cases. They came at once. It was the work of a few moments to inoculate the greatest quantity of the powerful poison that I had ever used at any one time. I then made the usual passes, and awoke the patient, resolved not to risk any unnecessary complications. I knew if his strength could be kept up for three, or at the most four hours, the battle was ours. But could he fight it out alone? I did not dare to guarantee the usual result of the virus if he were asleep. I could only count on Annie’s support to help him out, for he seemed at last ready to give up the fight. Even now the impression that his sweetheart was coming, added to the rest secured by the little respite from pain, seemed to be sustaining him, and all I dreaded was that he would be too feeble to bear the effects of the remedy in its later processes, when the convulsive attacks were liable to be especially violent, as if they knew they were losing their power over their victim.
“A half hour passed, then three quarters, and I heard the wheels stop outside. I opened the door, went softly into the hall, and met the brother, pale, anxious, and—alone!
“‘She is not at home, doctor. She is at a ball, believing my brother well and hundreds of miles away. I explained all to her father. He has gone to fetch her. Am I too late?’
“Just then a moan from the adjoining room told that my patient was suffering. I returned quickly to his bedside, and found the old symptoms reviving. Again the temptation beset me. I argued: ‘I influenced him easily, he certainly feels no pain while hypnotised, he cannot live unaided through another convulsive attack. To be sure, I have to fear that he can never be awakened, and that the final effects of the remedy may be lessened. At least two hours must elapse before he is safe, providing no new complications set in; and meanwhile what an opportunity to see if hypnotism prevents or aids inoculation! He has no other chance. The plan of fighting it out on natural lines, aided by his own desire to live for his love’s sake, has failed.’
“I hesitated no longer. Again taking his hand, I uttered the magic word ‘sleep,’ and he sank back as before.
“‘Now for the great coup,’ I said, and, turning to my young nurse, I ordered her to take off her cap, put on a hat and cloak, and follow exactly the few directions I gave her. She seemed to grasp my idea, and left me free to follow out my experiment.
“‘Annie is coming,’ I said, looking straight into the poor fellow’s eyes. ‘In a few minutes she will be here.’ I hesitated even as I spoke. Can a hypnotised patient be made to believe that a substituted person is the one he expects to see? But even as the thought flashed across my mind the door opened and the brother entered, with the young nurse on his arm dressed in walking costume.
“‘Here is Annie,’ I said. There was a moment of horrible suspense. Then at a sign from me the young woman approached the bed, sank down on her knees, and took both his hands in hers. A look of incredulity, of wonder, of hope, and then one of ineffable peace shone on his face.
“‘Annie, dearest, I tried to keep it from you and to come back to you free from this terrible trouble,’ he whispered.
“‘Yes, dear. You must not talk to me. See, I am with you, I shall not stir.’
“‘Kiss me once,’ he murmured.
“The woman reached gently over and kissed him, and with his hands still in hers he relapsed into unconsciousness. In an hour more the danger would be over, but I must then awaken him, and unless the real Annie were present the shock might ruin everything. The moments went by—the sick man sleeping, the tireless nurse kneeling in her strained position by his bed, the brother pacing up and down outside the door, and I, watch in hand, dreading the last act in this exciting night’s drama.
“Fifteen minutes more and I heard a rustle, a murmur of voices broken by sobs, and then silence. Suddenly and quickly the door opened; a beautiful woman in ball costume, with jewels gleaming in her hair and on her neck, glided like a spirit to the bedside. The nurse, with a woman’s quick intuition, softly withdrew her hands; the other knelt and took her place, and with her eyes fixed on the face of him whom she had thought far away and in perfect health, she waited. ‘She is worthy of him,’ I thought, as I saw her attitude and her wonderful self-possession.
“Now for the test. Motioning the others to leave the room, I awoke the sleeper. His gaze instantly fell upon his Annie’s loved face. ‘Hush!’ she said; ‘you have been very ill; I know all about it; but the danger is over; all will be well, and I shall not leave you.’ A puzzled look swept over his countenance. Then he feebly whispered, ‘I was dreaming you were here; but you had your hat on, dear; you had just come in from the street and found me.’
“‘I am really here,’ Annie replied, ‘and you must reward me by not saying another word.’ She smiled at him, a brave smile, through the tears that were coming now. This time, with a satisfied look, he fell into a natural sleep. I knew the danger was over, and that I could safely leave him with his own.
“As I passed out into the early misty morning, I confess the thought of the success of my part of the experiment was rather swallowed up by my admiration for that woman, and for the love, the great unselfish, protecting love, she had won from that man. Visions of lost happiness came before me, and it seemed to me I had missed something which might have been mine, had I been less absorbed in other ways; but just then I reached my own door, and caught sight of the name on the small silver plate, Dr. Edward Reeves. And I thought of the material I had collected for a medical paper on that night’s work, so I dropped the sentiment, and went in to make a record of the facts in the case (which has interested the scientific world ever since) of a patient actually getting the full benefit of a remedy while in an undisturbed, hypnotized state, despite all theories to the contrary.”