“Some months ago a workman and his wife, accompanied by a small boy of four, waited on Doctor Garnier, the physician who presides over the insanity ward at the Paris Depot, or Central Police Station. The parents were in great distress, and the story they had to tell was that on two occasions the lad, their son, who was with them, had attempted to murder his baby brother. On the last occasion the mother had just arrived in time to prevent him from cutting the baby’s throat with a pair of scissors.
“Examined by Doctor Garnier, the child declared it was quite true that he wished to murder 78 his brother, and that it was his firm intention to accomplish his purpose, sooner or later.
“Taking the parents into an adjoining room, Doctor Garnier said to the father, ‘Are you a drinker?’
“The man protested indignantly. He had never been drunk in his life. His wife backed up his assertion. Her husband, she said, was the most sober of men.
“‘Hold out your hand at arm’s length,’ said the doctor.
“The man obeyed. After a few seconds the hand began that devil’s dance to which alcohol fiddles the tune.
“‘As I thought,’ said the doctor. ‘My poor fellow, you are an alcoholique.’
“He questioned the man, who, with tears in his eyes, related that, being a brewer’s drayman, it was his duty to deliver casks of beer to his master’s customers, carrying the casks up to various stages. A glass of wine was occasionally offered him as a pouboire. The total quantity so absorbed by him amounted to a liter, or a liter and a half per day. This had been going on steadily for several years.
“‘With the result,’ said the doctor, ‘that you, who have never been drunk, have become so completely alcoholized that you have transmitted to that unfortunate baby in the next room a form of epilepsy which has developed into homicidal mania.’”