compels him to look back upon it, although the recollection harrows up
his soul. It is now nearly thirty years since the events of which I
write occurred; still they are as indelibly impressed upon my memory as
the felon's brand upon his brow. It has rarely been the fortune of those
miserable beings to whose number I had a narrow escape from adding one,
to retain so lively a recollection of a long train of mental anguish.
Even at this lengthened period from the occurrence of the events
referred to, in my solitary walks, or when sleep forsakes my pillow,
they will embody themselves, and pass in vivid succession over my mind;
tears unbidden fill my eyes, and my heart melts in gratitude for my
deliverance from so sad a fate--carried out under the cloud of night,
buried like a dog, within sea-mark, or in the boundary of two
proprietors' lands--entailing disgrace upon my family, and a horror of
my memory, even scaring the simple husbandman from the neighbourhood of
the spot where my ashes lay.
I was the only child of an aged father, the last of a family who had,
in former days, been of no small consequence in that part of the country
where he resided; but before his day, the numerous acres of land his
forefathers had possessed owned other lords. All he inherited was the
respect of the old people, and the tradition of former grandeur. His
elder brother, of a more enterprising turn of mind, at their father's
death had sold off the wrecks of a long train of mismanaged property,
divided the proceeds between himself and my father, and, after an
affectionate adieu, set off for the West Indies. My father, less
enterprising, remained where all his affections were fixed, and farmed a
few acres from one of the new proprietors--void of ambition, content to
glide down the stream of life unknowing and unknown by the busy world,
all his cares concentrated on me, whom he intended for the church, and
educated accordingly. For several years, and until misfortunes pressed
so heavily upon him, he maintained me at college. When his means failed,
I returned to my disconsolate parents, to consult how I should now
proceed--whether to go out to Jamaica to my uncle, or commence teacher.
My father had applied to his brother for aid in his difficulties, and
been refused. The fears of my mother, and the wounded pride of my father
determined my fate--I commenced teacher, and succeeded equal to my
ambition.
My income was small; but my habits were simple and temperate, and my
means supplied my wants abundantly. From the first dawnings of reason,
my mind was of a studious, inquisitive turn; I thirsted after knowledge
of every kind; and, while ardent in all my pursuits, I was of a joyous
and hoping disposition. All was sunshine to me; even the blighting of my
prospects at college affected not a mind which felt a consciousness of
being able to soar to any height; a thousand projects floated through
it, each of which, for a season, seemed sufficient to rear me to the
pinnacle of fortune and fame. Thus had I dreamed on for three years. One
of my many objects of study engrossed the greater portion of my
thoughts--the mysterious tie that united soul and body. Could I untie
this Gordian knot--and I was vain enough to hope I might--then would I
rank amongst earth's brightest ornaments, and fill a niche with Newton
and Bacon. This extraordinary subject had even when at school, engaged
the greater part of my thoughts. Often have I left my fellows at play,
and stolen to some distant part of the churchyard, to muse and commune
with myself, not without a boyish hope that some kind tenant of the tomb
would reveal to me his mighty secret. Void of fear, I have implored the
presence of spirits under the cloud of night. The feeling that filled my
mind was an enthusiasm, which, though years and changes have rolled over
my head, is still remembered with a sensation of pleasure.
I had kept my school for three years, to the satisfaction of the
parents of my pupils and my own. My cup of enjoyment was full to
overflowing. I had proceeded so far with several works of science; every
one of which, ere I began, was to establish my fame, but each was
quickly abandoned for some new idea. I had resumed again the first
object of my inquiry, and was busily arranging materials for effecting
the glorious discovery, when I was seized by an epidemic fever that was
committing fearful ravages in the parish. All after this, for several
weeks, is a blank in my memory, a hiatus in my consciousness. Contrary
to the expectations of all that attended, I became convalescent. My
strength slowly returned; but my mind had undergone a complete change:
its buoyancy had fled, and no longer, like a butterfly, fluttering from
one flower of fancy to another, it was fixed on the one engrossing
object; yet I was conscious that the faculties of which I had once felt
so proud, were now weak as those of an infant; and, dreamy and listless,
I began to wander into the fields. My school had broken up. The greater
part of my pupils were with a successful competitor who now supplied my
place. This deepened my gloom; and I often returned with a feeling that
my task on earth was accomplished--that all that remained for me was to
die--that I was a cumberer of the earth. I never complained, but bore
all in silence. I cared not for myself; but when I looked to my parents,
I resolved to struggle on, and did struggle manfully. I felt as a
drowning man, who sees an object almost within his reach, that, were he
enabled to grasp it, would secure his safety. He struggles and plunges
towards it in vain, every succeeding effort only serving to diminish his
hopes of escape, while, by allowing himself to sink in the stream, he
would cease to suffer in a moment. To the eye of a casual observer, I
had regained my wonted health, neither was there any strong indication
of the change that had come over my feelings; yet to speak or act was
painful to me, and I could not endure to be looked at with more than a
passing glance--shrinking like a criminal, and fearing lest the thoughts
that were passing in my mind might be discovered.
A strange sensation had, for some time, taken possession of me. I felt
as if in a false position, by some means or other, to me
inscrutable--that I had, at some former period of existence, either on
this earth or some other planet, lived, acted, and witnessed, as I was
now doing. Nothing appeared new to me: every incident of unwonted
occurrence produced a dreamy effect of memory, as if I had experienced
it before. This frame of mind was more annoying than painful, for I even
at times felt a faint pleasure in it, and strove to anticipate events
that were lodged in the womb of futurity: but my efforts were vain; I
could not penetrate the mist; I could only recognise the objects as it
cleared away.
At this time I was so fortunate as to procure the situation of
amanuensis to a literary gentleman, who was employed upon a work of
great extent, but of little interest. My labour was entirely mechanical.
The confinement and the sedentary nature of my employment wrought still
greater change on me; for hours I have sat, like an automaton, copying
passages I felt no interest in, held only to my task by the
consciousness of being no longer burthensome to my parents. An entire
new train of ideas began to pass through my mind in rapid succession;
some of them so fearful and horrid that I trembled for myself. I felt as
if impelled to crime by some power almost irresistible, and a strange
pleasure in meditating upon deeds of blood took possession of me. My
favourite subject, the mysterious connection between soul and body, was
again strong upon me, and I longed to witness the last agonies of a
person dying by violence. It was necessary to elucidate my theory, and
the desire to obtain the knowledge, increased. The crime and all its
horrors never occurred to me as any thing but a great, a magnanimous
action, a sacrifice of my own feelings for the benefit of mankind.
One evening my employer detained me much later than he was wont. We sat
as usual--he at one side of the table, I at the other. I had, all the
afternoon, been much stronger than I had for some time before, and felt
more confidence in myself than I had done for several weeks. No
sensation gave indication of the misery that was to fill my heart. All
at once my mind was hurled, as if by a whirlwind, from its calm. My
employer stooped over a book, in which he was deeply engaged--his head
was towards me. I was mending my pen with a stout, ivory-handled
desk-knife. The temptation came upon me, with hideous force, to plunge
the knife into his head, and obtain the great object I so long had
desired. In this fearful moment I even reasoned--if I dare use the
often-abused term--that the wound would be small, and hidden by the
hair, so that no man could ever know, far less blame me for the act. I
grasped the knife firmly in my hand, changing it to the best position to
strike with effect. My mind felt pleased and happy. I actually exulted
in the opportunity. My arm was raised to strike the unconscious victim
of my madness, when he raised his head, and looked me in the face. I
sank into my seat, with a faint scream, and wept like a babe. The
impulse had passed away, like a hideous nightmare. I shook in every
limb, and raised my eyes to heaven, imploring pardon, and sighed forth a
mental prayer of thanks; while the intended victim of my madness,
unconscious of the danger he had escaped, did his utmost to soothe the
agitation and distress which I could not conceal. I could no longer look
upon his benign and placid countenance without a shudder of horror, such
as the wretch must feel who is dragged to the spot where the body of his
murdered victim lies witnessing against him. I felt that he was a victim
snatched from me by a merciful God--a victim I had murdered in my heart.
That same night I gave up my situation, much against the desire of my
kind employer, and returned to my parents' roof, the most to be pitied
of living men.
For several days I never left my bed, and scarcely took any food. My
mind felt, at times, quite confused; at other times, strange ideas shot
transitorily through it, with the vividness of lightning; but they were
only coruscations, and left no impressions. I forgot them as quickly as
they arose, and sank again into gloom. My malady began gradually to
assume a new turn. Phantoms began to visit me; the sages of antiquity
were my guests. I hailed them, at first, with pleasure, and enjoyed
their presence, but soon grew weary of the voiceless, fleeting
communion. In vain I spoke to them, or put questions in the most
impassioned tones. No sound ever met my ear save my own. Yet there was a
strange community of sentiment--an intercourse of soul between us; for
they would shoot their ideas in through my eyes--smile, or look
grave--and nod, assent, or shake the head, as various thoughts passed
through my mind. After the first visits, I ceased to use articulated
language; it was a joyless communion, a languid inanity, and I felt as
if my own soul was no longer a dweller in its earthly tabernacle, but
held a mysterious middle state between life and death. In vain I
endeavoured to exert my energies. I left my bed, and began to move
about; still this new torment clung to me. I possessed a strange power.
I had only to think of any event in history, and the whole was present
before me, even the scenes around becoming changed to the places where
the circumstances happened. I wished my memory annihilated; I strove not
to think. My very endeavours called up more vividly new and strange
ideas; wherever I was, the place seemed peopled by phantoms. Wherever I
turned my eyes, a moving pageant of gorgeous or hideous figures,
strangely real, were before me.
Oh, how I loathed my situation! Yet I complained to no one--not even to
my parents; enduring all in secret, and hearing the bitter taunts of
friends and acquaintances, who passed their heart-cutting remarks upon
my indolence, and strange way of passing my time. To the eye of a casual
observer, I was in good health, and shrunk from making known my painful
and unheard-of state, lest I should be considered insane, and treated as
such, by being placed in confinement--an idea that made me shudder. I
often doubted my own sanity; yet I felt not like ordinary madmen. I had
a consciousness that I was under some strong delusion, and what I saw
could not be real; still, my visions were not the less annoying and
painful. The only intervals of rest I enjoyed, was when the desire to
witness the last expiring throb of a person dying by violence haunted
me, which it did at times, if possible, with more overwhelming force
than ever. This was the more unaccountable to me, for I am naturally of
a humane and benevolent disposition; and, when not overpowered by a gust
of passion, timid and averse to acts of strife and violence of any
kind--shuddering and becoming faint at the sight of blood. My mental
sufferings, from these conflicts between my natural turn of mind and its
morbid state, became so great, that life grew a burden more than I could
long endure. Still, I shrunk from self-destruction; or, more properly
speaking, the thought never occurred to me; for, had it come with half
the force of the others by which I was enslaved, I would have, in a
moment, obeyed the impulse. I had no idea of any crime, or a wish to
witness the sufferings of the individual. I felt as a patriot might feel
who sacrifices all for the good of his country--immolating my own
feelings at the altar of science, and deeming the realization of my
dreams of vital importance to mankind, who had hitherto been unable to
discover the mysterious link that bound soul and body together.
At length, the thought came into my distracted mind that I might be
able to try the great experiment upon myself; and a sensation near akin
to joy came over me, as I turned over the various ways in which this
might be accomplished. My whole invention was at work, contriving the
safest mode in which I could approach nearest, without crossing "that
bourne from whence there is no return;" and I felt, for days, all the
pleasures and disappointments of a projector, adapting or rejecting the
various schemes by turns. Bred at a short distance from the beach, I
swam well. To fasten a weight to my body, sufficient to sink me, with a
knife in my hand, to cut the cord as the last pang came upon me, and
then rise to the surface, often presented itself, and was as often
rejected. I might be so weak, as not to rise, or, in my confusion, I
might stab myself in my effort to cut the cord, and the secret would be
lost. At length, I fixed upon the following mode. Unknown to my parents
or any one, I prepared the little room I had occupied from childhood,
and, with a feeling of pride, called my study, by carefully securing
from it all access of air, as far as was in my power; then, attaching a
cord to the door and window, so contrived that the slightest pull would
throw them wide open, I placed a chair in the centre of the room, and a
chaffer of burning charcoal by its side. With a feeling of exultation, I
sat down to complete my experiment. The cords were fixed to my arms, so
that, when I fell from my seat unconscious, the door and window would
open, and restore animation by the access of vital air. I would thus
attain my object, without exposing myself, or becoming the subject of
public remark, which at all times was most hateful to me. I watched
every mutation of feeling. For the first few minutes, I felt no change,
except that the room became warmer and more agreeable. Gradually my
breathing became more quick; but not in the least laboured. A gentle
perspiration came upon me, accompanied by a luxurious languor, such as
if I had ate a plentiful dinner, and stretched myself upon a sunny bank;
an irresistible desire to sleep was stealing over me. My feelings were
highly pleasing; but a stupor gradually came over me, and banished
thought. My next sensation was a thrill of agony, which no words can
express. It was more intense than if thousands of pointed instruments
had been thrust into every muscle of my body--plucked out, and again
thrust in, with the rapidity of lightning. Thrilling coruscations of
vivid light flashed across my eyes. I attempted to shriek--only a faint
groan escaped; my organs of voice refused to obey their office. Human
nature could not continue to suffer as I suffered. Again I sank into
unconsciousness, and again my agony came on me, though not so intense as
before. Faint glimmerings of thought began to visit me. The first was
that the agonies of death were upon me; that I was in danger of sitting
too long; and, with a convulsive effort I attempted to throw myself from
the chair, but felt I was restrained. Opening my eyes, I found them dim
and visionless; a dull and benumbing sensation made me feel as if my
brain was bursting my head; whether it was day or night I could not
distinguish; my ears were filled with confused sounds, mixed with a
hissing and booming that distracted me; I felt faint and sick, so as I
never felt before or since. That I was dying, I firmly believed; and
again I attempted to sink from off the chair. As consciousness returned,
I found myself stretched upon my bed. Still, all was darkness and
confusion, I fell into a lethargy or sleep, which lasted for hours.
When I awoke, my mother sat weeping by the side of my bed; her
suppressed sob was the first sound that fell upon my ear. Never can I
forget that moment!--her melting woe, as she sat stooping towards me;
the anguish expressed in my father's countenance, as he stood supporting
himself upon the back of her chair, his eyes bent on my face. I turned
myself upon my pillow, and gave vent to a flood of tears.
Before a word had been exchanged, the surgeon, to whose exertions I was
indebted for my restoration to life, entered. To his inquiries after me,
my mother answered, that, for the last few hours, I had been in a quiet
sleep, and had just moved and turned as if I had awakened; but that,
agreeable to his desire, she had not spoken to me. Without answering
her, he stooped over the bed to feel my pulse. I turned to him, and
inquired what had happened. A mutual explanation took place. That I had
attempted suicide, both he and my parents believed, until, to vindicate
myself, I gave them a minute account of the object I had in view in what
I had done. He listened with intense interest, not unmixed with
astonishment, as he gradually drew from me an account of my long train
of mental anguish. I could at once perceive that he did not ridicule me,
but rather sympathised with me, and blamed me much for not making my
case known long before, as it was not, he hoped, beyond the reach of
medicine. He told me of several cases in which he had been successful,
nearly similar to my own, although not to the extent of duration and
variety of change. The following, which had nearly been as fatal, and
would have been as inexplicable, made the greatest impression on me.
The subject of his narrative was the wife of a near neighbour of ours,
who had been dead for some years. At the time both were well stricken in
age, and remarkable both for their piety and walk in life. Their family,
the greater part of whom were alive, had all reached manhood, and were
engaged in active duties in different parts of the country. The old
couple themselves were living on the fruits of their early industry and
economy, in a small solitary cottage, calmly closing the evening of a
well-spent life. The first attack of the malady was sudden and severe,
its approach being unperceived by any one, even by the sufferer. Both
had spent the day at church, and returned, conversing with their
neighbours, until they reached their own cottage, where they sat reading
their Bible, or conversing on subjects derived from it, until the
herd-boy brought home the cow from the common pasture. On looking up,
the woman saw the cow standing and lowing at the byre door. She rose
from her seat, and went to admit and attend to the welcome guest. She
did not return to the house after an unusually protracted stay; and her
husband, beginning to be uneasy, and fearful lest the cow might have
kicked or hurt her, went to ascertain the cause of her tarrying. Struck
with horror, he found her talking in a fearful strain to an imaginary
second person, the cow still uncared for, and the milking-pail upside
down, she standing upon the bottom, busy adjusting a halter to one of
the beams, and imploring the ideal person not to go until she could get
all ready to accompany him to that happy land of which he spoke, and to
which he showed her the way. Her distressed husband, rushing forward,
clasped her in his arms as she was putting the noose over her head. She
screamed and resisted with all her energies, calling upon the phantom to
rescue her from her cruel husband. For several weeks she remained in
this state, confined and strictly watched. The surgeon succeeded in
subduing the disease; and when reason returned, she had no consciousness
of anything that had happened during the interval; but, with a grateful
heart, returned thanks to God for preservation and recovery.
My pride was wounded to observe that the surgeon thought I was insane,
for he quoted the above case as a parallel to mine. This I remonstrated
against; and, although I could perceive a credulous smile upon his
features, I at once cheerfully agreed to put myself under his care. When
he retired for the evening, I found that I was indebted for my escape
from death to a strange circumstance--the death of my uncle, my father's
brother, who had returned from the West Indies some years before with
considerable wealth and a broken constitution. We had never seen him
since his return. Prosperity had brought to him no pleasure, riches no
enjoyment. From being one of the most joyous and liberal of lads before
he left home, he had returned to his country sullen and avaricious; with
all his wealth, a poorer man, in mind, than when he left it--suffering
from a continued dread of poverty, and the victim of hypochondria.
"Poor John!" my father would say, "how I pity you! Your money is not
your own; you are only the gatherer for some other person. You dare not
enjoy a shilling; neither can you take it with you when you die." My
father had just received an intimation from a lawyer, requesting his
immediate attendance in Edinburgh, where his brother had died suddenly
the evening before, to make arrangements for his funeral, and look after
his effects, as he believed he had died intestate. My mother had
hastened up stairs with the intelligence, and to request me to come
down, when she found me seated upon the chair, with my head sunk upon my
breast, as if I had been in a profound sleep. Overcome by the vapour,
she sank upon the floor; the noise of her fall brought up my father,
whose first task was to rush to me, give me a gentle shake, and then
look in agony at me and at his wife. When he took his hand from me, I
fell to the floor by the side of my mother, and the window opened as I
had contrived. Uttering a cry of anguish, he seized the wife of his
bosom in his arms, hurried out of the fatal room, sent the servant girl
for the surgeon, and returned for me, who was lying as if dead, my eyes
open and fixed, dull and void of expression. My mother soon recovered; a
few neighbours came to her aid; and the surgeon was, fortunately, soon
found. Their utmost efforts were for long, to all appearance, of little
avail. The surgeon had almost despaired of success; at length his
patience and skill were rewarded by my returning animation. The rest is
already known.
So violent was the shock my constitution had sustained, from the action
of the noxious gas, that it was several weeks before I was enabled to
leave my room. The skill of my surgeon was evidently operating a
beneficial change upon my mind. The languor and heaviness, mixed with
restless anxiety, which had so long oppressed me, began to yield to the
powers of his prescriptions; my hallucinations became less annoying and
more distant in their attacks, until they entirely ceased, and I was
restored to the full enjoyment of existence. Change of scene was his
final medicine; and this I most cheerfully agreed to take, for my
circumstances were now affluent, and enabled me to live or wander where
I might choose. My restless mind would at times dwell with peculiar
pleasure upon some one favoured project or other; and, fearful lest I
should fall again into some new philosophical dream, I resolved to
travel. With a stout horse and a heavy purse, I bade adieu to my parents
for a short time, and rode out of my native valley, accompanied by
Malcolm Dow, a stout lad who had been reared in the family, as my
servant.