The thirtieth day of May, 1887, fell on a Monday. It was one of the
annual holidays of the nation in the latter third of the nineteenth
century, being set apart under the name of Decoration Day, for doing
honor to the memory of the soldiers of the North who took part in the
war for the preservation of the union of the States. The survivors of
the war, escorted by military and civic processions and bands of music,
were wont on this occasion to visit the cemeteries and lay wreaths of
flowers upon the graves of their dead comrades, the ceremony being a
very solemn and touching one. The eldest brother of Edith Bartlett had
fallen in the war, and on Decoration Day the family was in the habit of
making a visit to Mount Auburn, where he lay.
I had asked permission to make one of the party, and, on our return to
the city at nightfall, remained to dine with the family of my
betrothed. In the drawing-room, after dinner, I picked up an evening
paper and read of a fresh strike in the building trades, which would
probably still further delay the completion of my unlucky house. I
remember distinctly how exasperated I was at this, and the
objurgations, as forcible as the presence of the ladies permitted,
which I lavished upon workmen in general, and these strikers in
particular. I had abundant sympathy from those about me, and the
remarks made in the desultory conversation which followed, upon the
unprincipled conduct of the labor agitators, were calculated to make
those gentlemen's ears tingle. It was agreed that affairs were going
from bad to worse very fast, and that there was no telling what we
should come to soon. "The worst of it," I remember Mrs. Bartlett's
saying, "is that the working classes all over the world seem to be
going crazy at once. In Europe it is far worse even than here. I'm sure
I should not dare to live there at all. I asked Mr. Bartlett the other
day where we should emigrate to if all the terrible things took place
which those socialists threaten. He said he did not know any place now
where society could be called stable except Greenland, Patagonia, and
the Chinese Empire." "Those Chinamen knew what they were about,"
somebody added, "when they refused to let in our western civilization.
They knew what it would lead to better than we did. They saw it was
nothing but dynamite in disguise."
After this, I remember drawing Edith apart and trying to persuade her
that it would be better to be married at once without waiting for the
completion of the house, spending the time in travel till our home was
ready for us. She was remarkably handsome that evening, the mourning
costume that she wore in recognition of the day setting off to great
advantage the purity of her complexion. I can see her even now with my
mind's eye just as she looked that night. When I took my leave she
followed me into the hall and I kissed her good-by as usual. There was
no circumstance out of the common to distinguish this parting from
previous occasions when we had bade each other good-by for a night or a
day. There was absolutely no premonition in my mind, or I am sure in
hers, that this was more than an ordinary separation.
Ah, well!
The hour at which I had left my betrothed was a rather early one for a
lover, but the fact was no reflection on my devotion. I was a confirmed
sufferer from insomnia, and although otherwise perfectly well had been
completely fagged out that day, from having slept scarcely at all the
two previous nights. Edith knew this and had insisted on sending me
home by nine o'clock, with strict orders to go to bed at once.
The house in which I lived had been occupied by three generations of
the family of which I was the only living representative in the direct
line. It was a large, ancient wooden mansion, very elegant in an
old-fashioned way within, but situated in a quarter that had long since
become undesirable for residence, from its invasion by tenement houses
and manufactories. It was not a house to which I could think of
bringing a bride, much less so dainty a one as Edith Bartlett. I had
advertised it for sale, and meanwhile merely used it for sleeping
purposes, dining at my club. One servant, a faithful colored man by the
name of Sawyer, lived with me and attended to my few wants. One feature
of the house I expected to miss greatly when I should leave it, and
this was the sleeping chamber which I had built under the foundations.
I could not have slept in the city at all, with its never ceasing
nightly noises, if I had been obliged to use an upstairs chamber. But
to this subterranean room no murmur from the upper world ever
penetrated. When I had entered it and closed the door, I was surrounded
by the silence of the tomb. In order to prevent the dampness of the
subsoil from penetrating the chamber, the walls had been laid in
hydraulic cement and were very thick, and the floor was likewise
protected. In order that the room might serve also as a vault equally
proof against violence and flames, for the storage of valuables, I had
roofed it with stone slabs hermetically sealed, and the outer door was
of iron with a thick coating of asbestos. A small pipe, communicating
with a wind-mill on the top of the house, insured the renewal of air.
It might seem that the tenant of such a chamber ought to be able to
command slumber, but it was rare that I slept well, even there, two
nights in succession. So accustomed was I to wakefulness that I minded
little the loss of one night's rest. A second night, however, spent in
my reading chair instead of my bed, tired me out, and I never allowed
myself to go longer than that without slumber, from fear of nervous
disorder. From this statement it will be inferred that I had at my
command some artificial means for inducing sleep in the last resort,
and so in fact I had. If after two sleepless nights I found myself on
the approach of the third without sensations of drowsiness, I called in
Dr. Pillsbury.
He was a doctor by courtesy only, what was called in those days an
"irregular" or "quack" doctor. He called himself a "Professor of Animal
Magnetism." I had come across him in the course of some amateur
investigations into the phenomena of animal magnetism. I don't think he
knew anything about medicine, but he was certainly a remarkable
mesmerist. It was for the purpose of being put to sleep by his
manipulations that I used to send for him when I found a third night of
sleeplessness impending. Let my nervous excitement or mental
preoccupation be however great, Dr. Pillsbury never failed, after a
short time, to leave me in a deep slumber, which continued till I was
aroused by a reversal of the mesmerizing process. The process for
awaking the sleeper was much simpler than that for putting him to
sleep, and for convenience I had made Dr Pillsbury teach Sawyer how to
do it.
My faithful servant alone knew for what purpose Dr. Pillsbury visited
me, or that he did so at all. Of course, when Edith became my wife I
should have to tell her my secrets. I had not hitherto told her this,
because there was unquestionably a slight risk in the mesmeric sleep,
and I knew she would set her face against my practice. The risk, of
course, was that it might become too profound and pass into a trance
beyond the mesmerizer's power to break, ending in death. Repeated
experiments had fully convinced me that the risk was next to nothing if
reasonable precautions were exercised, and of this I hoped, though
doubtingly, to convince Edith. I went directly home after leaving her,
and at once sent Sawyer to fetch Dr. Pillsbury. Meanwhile I sought my
subterranean sleeping chamber, and exchanging my costume for a
comfortable dressing-gown, sat down to read the letters by the evening
mail which Sawyer had laid on my reading table.
One of them was from the builder of my new house, and confirmed what I
had inferred from the newspaper item. The new strikes, he said, had
postponed indefinitely the completion of the contract, as neither
masters nor workmen would concede the point at issue without a long
struggle. Caligula wished that the Roman people had but one neck that
he might cut it off, and as I read this letter I am afraid that for a
moment I was capable of wishing the same thing concerning the laboring
classes of America. The return of Sawyer with the doctor interrupted my
gloomy meditations.
It appeared that he had with difficulty been able to secure his
services, as he was preparing to leave the city that very night. The
doctor explained that since he had seen me last he had learned of a
fine professional opening in a distant city, and decided to take prompt
advantage of it. On my asking, in some panic, what I was to do for some
one to put me to sleep, he gave me the names of several mesmerizers in
Boston who, he averred, had quite as great powers as he.
Somewhat relieved on this point, I instructed Sawyer to rouse me at
nine o'clock next morning, and, lying down on the bed in my
dressing-gown, assumed a comfortable attitude, and surrendered myself
to the manipulations of the mesmerizer. Owing, perhaps, to my unusually
nervous state, I was slower than common in losing consciousness, but at
length a delicious drowsiness stole over me.