Rensselaer Republican, Volume 20, Number 26, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 1 March 1888 — A DOCTOR’S STORY. [ARTICLE]

A DOCTOR’S STORY.

lam a physician. . I hare made a Ufa-long study of the human brain, and may, perhaps be pardoned if I say that my opinions upon diseases of the mind now carry considerable weight among members of the profession. It was only a week or two since I was called to a large asylum for the insane in Northern Ohio to examine a case which baffled the skill of the local doctors. After disposing of that matter I took an unprofessional stroll through the institution in company with my old friend, the superintendent. The asylum over which I now made a tour of inspection was a most beautiful building, resembling in its appointments the homes of the weal'by and opulent. We wandered through room after room and along successive halls and corridors where men and women in every stage of insanity passed the time in various harmless amusements, or were restlessly confined in the care of warders and nurses. Of ail the misfortunes to which humanity is heir, this loss of reason is, to my mind, the saddest by far; and, though I might be expected to have grown hardened by long years of familiarity with all nh’ases of weak intellect, I never cease to feel devoutly thankful for that greatest of all benefits conferred upon men by a beneficent Creator—a sound brain.

We had passed through the greater part of the enormous institution and were approaching that portion of the building set apart for the residence of the superintending physician—my friend, Dr. Habershon. Taking from his pocket a key, Dr. Habershon inserted it in the keyhole of a door. Before turning it he looked at me in a strange manner and said: “If you were not an old med.. Hartley, and ar familiar with strange cases as I am myself, I should warn yon to keep your countenancs and betray no surprise on entering here. And I speak, anyhow, so as to be on the safe side.” Si eaying, he turned the sey in the lock and opened the door. We qu’etly entered a very neat but plainly furnished room, and I confess that, although I have witnessed queer, weird, wild and oft-times blood curdling sights, I never felt so startled in all my life as I did at that moment. The room was not by any means dark, for it was well lighted by a large window running ail along one side, but placed above the re ich of a man, even though he should stand upon a chair; yet at the farther end of the room I noticed a student lamp burning over a plain pine wood table, upon which rested a human skull and some writing paper. Seated at this table,‘pencil in hand, was a man about the same age as myself and Dr. Habershon (40 years) gazing intently upon the skull. What startled me so severely was the fact that when I had last seen that man more than fifteen years since—l had seen him in exactly such a posi ion, with precisely similar surroundings. And yet, what a difference! Then he had just graduated at the head of his class from our college, and was looked upon as one of the most promising young physicians in the country—now, he was a helpless maniac! “Ramsay?” 1 involuntarily queried, only nartially believing my own eyesight Habershon nodded. “You need not speak to him; he won’t reply. It is just six o’clock. He will sit at that table gazing at the old skull until daybreak and he will thrn throw himself upon his bed and sleep until noon. That’s the way he used to do, you know, and I hnmor him all I can. Poor old Ramsay; I owe him a good deal, you know, Hartly, sou remember all about it?”

“Yes, I remember the story, though 1 had almost forgotten it.” Ramsay, Habershon and myself were all students together in Philadelphia. We were in the same classes in college, and jointly occupied the same suite of rooms. Furthermore we were all making a specialty of studying the human brain, and ths only point wherein we materially differed from each other was that Ramsay knew more than we two follow® together. True, Ramsay was, in regard to his theories and speculations, wbat many people would call a ‘ crank”—but then successful cranks are esteemed to be geniuses, and certainly Ramsay was, in my as near the one as the other* * We three fellows ail flitted iu the same social set, and although both Ramsay and Habershon knew good and beautiful girls by the score, the. fates decreed that they should fail in love with the same young lady. And yet, strange enough, they never displayed bad feeling toward each other, nor even' sought to make the lady’s position an unpleasant one on account of the rivalry. It seemed to me, an onlooker, as though there was a tacit understanding between them, that no undue influence

should be brought into play, but that, knowing how both loved and admired her, the object of their admiration and esteem should be left quietly to choose between them. , Grace Thorneycroft was a most beautiful and estimable girl and, though JJ have been an old bachelor ail my days, I do not wonder that any man should have sought her for bis wife. One day Grace, with her, father, mother and a brother, were down to Atlantic City, where they took a sailboat and went out. A sudden squall overtaking them the frail pleasure boat was upset and Grace was the only member of the party who escaped with her life. She Was picked up in a fainting condition and tenderly cared for, but when restored, physically, it was found that her mind was shattered—she was insane. All that wealth, combined with skill, could do, was done for Grace, but it availed nothing and the physicians and friends at last gave up the case as bopeles*. Habershon was himself almost crazy with grief and could not bear to go near the poor girl. As for Ramsay, he shut himself up in his den —a small, barely furnished room where he was in the habit of pursuing his studies and experiments. There was a determined expression on the fellow’s face and when I'’looked in on him (which was seldom) he was always busy with his paperj and books—sometimes engaged in dissecting the brains of dogs and other animals, and once examining a human brain. He seldom spoke or even so much as remarked my presence, though once he said in an excited tone: “I shall cure her, Hartly—it shall be dme at any cost.” So for days and weeks he sit over that bare pine table gazing at the skull in front of him—ever and anon iapidly penciling diagrams of the human brain and of the nervous system.

Late one evening I was sitting with Habershon when there came a ra"p the door and R unsay entered. He was very quiet, but knowing him as well as I didi could tell he had something beyond the ordinary on his mind. “Boys,” he said, “I think I have found what I have been searching for— I think I can cure Grece. I say think, because, after all, it is only a theory of mine and may utterly fail, but I think not. Perhaps you say I should not theorize and experiment on a woman horn, &s you know, I love. Well, it won’t do any harm to her and it may do her all possible good. To-morrow morning I shall try to do the work.” Then, turning more particularly to Habershon, he continued: “Ed., you and I both love Grace Thorneycroft. Now, in the presence of Hartly, here, I want you to promise me, that whatever the consequences of my operation, you will care for Grace as long as she lives, and, if necessary, care for me too.” The next day, in the forenoon, Ramsay, in the presence of the two physicians who had been in charge of Grace, began his operations. I. was an interested observer from a distant part of the room, but Habershon could not be induced to be present. Ramsay told the older doctors that if bis theory proved perfectly successful in practice he would be able to give his method of cure in writing for the benefit of the world—at present, he said that it was utterly impossible for him to intelligently explain his ideas. However, he guaranteed that the attempt would be perfectly harmless to the patient and the doctors stood by reedy to prevent any undue or dangerous experiment. For mvself, I have not the least idea to this day just what the means were which Ramsay employed to produce tbe end he bad in -view, nor have I any theory to advance. The whole thing was a strange affair to me then and appears just as strange when I look back upon it from the pi epent moment, with all the experience which I have gained with fifteen years’ practice. Ramsay first of all administered a draught to Grace Thorneycroft, who was seated in a reclining chair. A few minutes later he made a small incision in an artery in the patient’s right arm, which movement he followed by making a similar incision in an artery of his own left arm. The two arteries he then connected by means of a 1 silver tube. Facing his subject, Ramsay tapped her head, near the base of the brain, two or three times with his knuckles, and then gazed into her eyes. Ten minutes passed slowly by and no perceptible difference was noticeable in Grace’s condition. Tin more minutes, and a gleam of intelligence seemed to be forcing its way into the face of the poor girl—but, strange to relate, a wild, far-away look was settling upon Ramsay! Another ten minutes, and Grace Taornej croft recognized every one in the room, including myself, while John Ramsay was led away from the newly conscious girl,a raving mani <c!

As I have before remarked, I have no explanation to offer—l can only chronicle bare facte. Ramsay was a man of genius, surely, though in the one act of his life in which he proved that genius, he partially failed; and, in that by losing his mind he was unable to give his theories to the world, his genius will never benefit posterity. Habershon married Grace Thorneycroft two yean after, and they have always taken the best care of the man who saved a woman’s reason at the expense 9 his own.