In the afternoon of the same day I had appointed to perform the operation against her will, her mother came to me and said that the invalid had made signs to her that she would now submit herself to my power. I lost no time in getting my assistants, and waiting upon her before the resolution should depart; but, what was my disappointment to find that she had, in the meantime, been seized with an attack of coughing, so much more serious than any she yet had, that I expected every moment to see her die of suffocation. Her mother sat beside her, weeping and looking on her with an expression of agony; and the little sufferer presented to me such an appearance of emaciation and weakness, that I doubted if I could venture to touch her with a knife, even if her relentless foe allowed her once more to escape for a little time. The coughing and spasms again ceased; but she lay as one dead. I could scarcely feel a pulse in her, and her pale, beautiful face was as calm and benign as if she had been soothed by a divine aspiration, in place of being tortured the moment before by an agony that twisted every muscle of her countenance. She lay in this state about ten minutes, at the end of which time she again opened her eyes, and made a faint sign to her mother that she was prepared. I lost no time. In a moment I had made the incision; and so well had I calculated the locality of the stone, that I was able to seize it on the very first insertion of the nippers. I drew it out, and held it up to her eye. The sight of it operated like magic. She started up on her feet, and, running a few paces, while the blood flowed plentifully down her white throat, clapped her hands, and cried, "It's out—it's out!" She would have fallen instantly, for the impulse that had overcome her weakness was like a shock from a galvanic battery, that moves, and in an instant leaves all dead as before. I seized her, just as she was falling; and, having placed her again on the sofa, sewed up the wound. Before I left her, I saw her breathing freely the unobstructed air. Her blue eye was illuminated with joy; and such was the immediate effect of giving a free passage to the breath of life, that one might have marked the rapid change of returning health going on throughout her whole system. In a short time she recovered, and returned home.
I saw this interesting patient three years afterwards—a fine, blooming young woman.
THE HENWIFE.
I have often made observations on that extraordinary disease, hypochondria; and chiefly on the cases where it presents the phasis of a false conception of the existing condition of external circumstances affecting the patient, accompanied by a terror of their operation on his fortunes and prosperity. These are common. I conceive that they argue a lesser derangement of the cerebral functions, than where there occurs a total overturn of the conception of personal identity; and the conviction of self passes into a belief that the patient is actually something else than himself—nay, something else than a man at all, and even something else than an organised being. In both cases, there is, of course, a false conviction, and so far they range under the same head; yet, as the conception of identity is among the first, and strongest, and steadiest of all the states or acts of the mind, it may be presumed to require a stronger deranging impulse to effect the overthrow of an idea that often remains unimpaired amidst the very wrecks of the intellect, than to produce those conditions of ordinary partial derangement of the rational or perceptive powers which daily come under our observation. Yet—and it is a curious feature of these pitiful states of the diseased mind, and one that argues ill for the superiority of man over the passing humours of a fluctuating temperament—wherever there is a false conception of identity, passing into an idea that the patient is something different from himself, he becomes an involuntary humorist; and, while the ordinary maniac brings tears to the eyes of the shuddering beholders, he, in his character of an animal or piece of inert matter, produces nothing but a tickling sensation of exquisite ludicrousness, passing often into broad laughter, certainly the greatest enemy of pity. Now, I approach a case of this kind with feelings entirely different; and, while I thus confess that I can contemplate no state of derangement but with pity, I shall leave a grave narrative of an extraordinary instance of false conviction—true in all its details[23]—to be read and relished according to the fancies and humours of the public.
In a large old land of houses in —— Street, commonly known by the name of the Ark, and occupied by a number of small families in the lower grade of society, an old woman, Margaret B——, had lived for many years, chiefly upon the bounty of a noble family in the country, whom she had served in the capacity of poulterer—vulgariter, henwife. She had been for some time ailing; and I was requested by those who took an interest in her, to pay her occasionally a visit, in the course of my professional rounds in the neighbourhood of her dwelling. I could discover, for a time, no marked complaint about her. Living lonely, she had fallen into a lowness of spirits, which, as one of her neighbours informed me, was most effectually removed or ameliorated for a time, by a recurrence to the remembered employments of her former years. She was, in particular, curiously addicted to thinking and speaking of her former extensive establishment of fowls at —— House; and made reference to speckled favourites by special name, as if she had treated them by distinctions of superiority, beauty, and utility, after the manner of fond mothers, who indulge a habit of fantastic favouritism among their children. I myself noticed this garrulous peculiarity; but, accustomed to all manner of eccentricities, as well healthy as morbid, I attributed her freaks to a foolish fancy, that sought for food among the cherished recesses of a fond memory of the past. By degrees, however, she underwent a considerable change; falling into moods of silent melancholy, which lasted for days, and rising from them to luxuriate, with a fervour that engrossed her whole soul, on the favourite theme, which seemed to present every day new attractions for her moody mind.
As I passed one day along the passage that led to her humble dwelling, her nearest neighbour, a favourite gossip, met me, and whispered, secretly and mysteriously, into my ear, that old Margaret, as she called her, had been, during the whole day, occupied with the regulation of an imagined establishment of her old favourites, the hens. She had been calling them to her by name; using all the technicalities of the domestic fowler's vocabulary; driving some of the more forward away, and endearingly encouraging the backward favourites to participate in the meal of scattered barley she threw upon the floor. The woman added, that she feared she was mad, and yet she laughed at the symptoms of her imputed insanity. I went forward, and, on opening the door, saw good evidence of the truth of my informant's story in the grain that lay about in every direction; but the occupation was gone, the industrious fowler had sunk into a fit of melancholy, and sat, with a drooping head and heavy eye, looking into the fire. She was dogged and silent; and, though I touched gently the irritable chord, I got no response: the illusion was gone, and had left nothing in her mind but the darkness of a morbid melancholy which I possessed no secret to remove.
This state of gloom lasted, I understood—for I could not get her visited in the meantime—for three days, during which she scarcely spoke to her neighbours, whose curiosity, roused by her previous conduct, supplied the place of the kindness which ought to have stimulated charitable attentions. At the end of that time, she awoke from her dream, and spoke with her accustomed sense on any subject that was started in her presence; but during the night she was heard again busy in her old occupation of feeding her feathered family; and several of the neighbours had even been at the pains to leave their beds, and listen to her one-sided dialogue and strange proceedings, as a matter of intense curiosity. I got a second report of these acts from the same neighbours, and very properly set the patient down for one of those unfortunate beings, too common in our land, who are afflicted with temporary derangement, which sometimes shows itself in the form of a fancied presence of some familiar object, and a passing into a condition or position occupied in some prior part of the life of the afflicted individual. These objects are too common to excite in us any particular curiosity; and, having made a report to those interested in her that I feared she was subject to temporary fits of insanity, I left to them the choice of the ordinary expedients in such cases.
Some weeks afterwards, the neighbour whom I had formerly seen, called and told me that the patient had not been attended to as her situation required, and that she had passed into a new condition, so extraordinary and incredible, that she could not trust her tongue to tell it to a rational being, and therefore urged me to come and witness for the truth of what no mortal would otherwise believe, by the evidence of my eyes. I asked her to explain what she meant; but she replied by a laugh, and went away, stating, that, unless I visited her soon, I might lose one of the most strange sights I had ever witnessed in the course of all my extended and long practice. I had seen so much of the wild vagaries of distempered minds, so many metamorphoses of fancied identities, and such extraordinary instances of imaginary metempsychoses, and other freaks in lunatics, that I felt no more curiosity on the subject of the woman's excited report than I do in ordinary cases; but, in about an hour afterwards, I found leisure to call and make a proper judgment of what might, after all, be a matter exaggerated by the clouds of ignorance.
As I proceeded up the stair, and along the passage, I observed several heads peeping out at me, and heard titters and whispers in all directions, as if the neighbours were all a-tiptoe with curiosity to enjoy the doctor's surprise at what he was to behold. The woman who had called me came running out from the middle of three or four old gossips like herself, and, holding away her head to conceal a suppressed laugh, perhaps mixed with a little affected shame, led the way before me to the patient's room. I was grave all the while, as becomes my profession; and I was besides displeased, as I ever am, when I see the misfortunes of my fellow-creatures made the subject of ill-timed mirth, merely because the most dreadful of all the visitations of man puts on grotesque appearances and ludicrous impersonations of fantastic characters.