Originally published in Terrific Register (Sherwood, Jones, and Co.; 1825).
Colonel Townsend, a gentleman of honour and integrity, had for many years been afflicted with a nephritic complaint. His illness increasing, and his strength decaying, he came from Bristol to Bath, in a litter, in autumn, and lay at the Bell inn. Dr. Baynard and I (Dr. Cheyne) were called to him, and attended him twice a day, but his vomitting continuing still incessant and obstinate against all remedies; we despaired of his recovery.
While he was in this condition, he sent for us one morning; we waited on him, with Mr. Skrine, his apothecary. We found his senses clear, and his mind calm: his nurse and several servants were about him. He told us, he had sent for us, to give us an account of an odd sensation he had for some time observed and felt in himself; which was, that, composing himself, he could die or expire when he pleased, and yet by an effort, or some how, he could come to life again; which he had sometimes tried before he sent to us.
We heard this with surprise; but as it was not to be accounted for from common principles, we could hardly believe the fact as he related it, much less give an account of it; unless he should please to make the experiment before us, which we were unwilling he should do, lest in his weak condition, he might carry it too far. He continued to talk very distinctly and sensibly, above a quarter of an hour about this surprising sensation, and insisted so much on our seeing the trial made, that we were at last forced to comply.
We all three felt his pulse first; it was distinct, though small and thready; and his heart had its usual beating. He composed himself on his back, and lay in a still posture for some time; while I held his right hand, Dr. Baynard laid his hand on his heart, and Mr. Skrine held a clean looking-glass to his mouth, I found his pulse sink gradually, till at last I could not feel any, by the most exact and nice touch. Dr. Baynard could not feel the least motion in his heart, nor Mr. Skrine the least soil of breath on the bright mirror he held to his mouth: then each of us, by turns, examined his arm, heart, and breath, but could not, by the nicest scrutiny, discover the least symptom of life in him. We reasoned a long time about this odd appearance as well as we could, and all of us judging it inexplicable and unaccountable, and finding he still continued in that condition, we began to conclude that he had indeed carried the experiment too far, and at last were satisfied that he was actually dead, and were just ready to leave him.
This continued about half an hour. As we were going away, we observed some motion about his body, and, upon examination, found his pulse and the motion of his heart gradually returning: he began to breathe gently, and speak softly: we were all astonished to the last degree at this unexpected change, and after some further conversation with him, and among ourselves, went away fully satisfied as to all the particulars of this fact, but confounded and puzzled, and not able to form any rational scheme that might account for it.
He afterwards called for his attorney, added a codicil to his will, settled legacies on his servants, received the sacrament, and calmly and composedly expired, between five and six o'clock that evening. Next day he was opened (as he had ordered); his body was the soundest and best made I had ever seen; his lungs were fair, large, and sound, his heart big and strong, and his intestines sweet and clean; his stomach was of a due proportion, the coat sound and thick, and the villous member entire. But when we came to examine the kidneys, though the left was sound and of a just size, the right was about four times as big, distended like a blown bladder, and yielding as if full of pap; he having often passed a weyish liquor during his illness. Upon opening the kidney we found it quite full of white chalky matter, like plaister of Paris, and all the fleshy substance dissolved and worn away, by what I called a nephritic cancer.
This had been the source of all his misery; and the symptomatic vomitings from the irritation of the consentient nerves, had quite starved and worn him down. I have narrated the facts as I saw and observed them deliberately and distinctly, and shall leave to the philosophic reader to make what inference he thinks fit; the truth of the material circumstances I will warrant.
Note: Text reformatted for legibility.