Originally published in Harper's New Monthly Magazine (Harper and Brothers) vol.19 #109 (Jun 1859).
I had seen the last on my list of patients for that day, and coming home, wearied out with a hard day's work, had put on slippers and dressing-gown and flung myself at length on my sofa, drawn up in front of a glowing anthracite fire, just in the humor for a comfortable perusal of the last Harper's, when suddenly I heard a loud ring from my office door-bell.
Now, I being a physician of several years' standing in New York, a ring at my door-bell was not a thing of such singularity as to require to be noted in print. Neither was it in any way remarkable that it should occur at that hour of the night; for it is a peculiar idiosyncrasy of all persons who wish a doctor that they should obstinately choose the most inconvenient hours possible for him. Statistics show that more persons are born during the night than in the day-time. My friend and medical brother, Cynicus, says it is because the hours generally considered as proper for work being over, they have nothing else to do but to turn their attention to being born. But upon this point he and I do not agree. My belief is, that each one, anticipating the usage he is going to receive in this world, and ashamed to acknowledge that he wishes to form another item among the billion other items then existing, prefers to steal in clandestinely, like a thief, under the cover of darkness, than appear, like an honest man, in the bright sunlight. Neither was a ring generally such an unwelcome sound to my ears that I should speak of it; for the loud, clanging jingle usually foretold a cheerful rattle from a much more valuable metal in my own pocket. But, as I said before, I was excessively tired; I was then very comfortable; and lastly, it was terribly cold and stormy outside.
It was for these reasons that I rose so reluctantly and went to the door. I found there a diminutive specimen of an Irish girl, whose face seemed familiar to me.
"Please, Sir, will you come up to the Triangle House?"
"Who for?" I asked, rather sharply.
"For Mr. Normanby, Sir."
"Does he want me at once?"
"He didn't say he did; but Mr. Dyer, who has the next room to his, told me to go for you and tell you to come right away."
"What is the matter now?"
"If you please, Sir, he has had another of them times, Sir, and made so much trouble they didn't know what to do with him."
"Well, little girl, ran home and say I will be there in a few minutes."
The peculiarly bad English of the expression, "them times," used by the little girl, would probably have been perfectly unintelligible to the majority of persons had they been standing there in my place; but I comprehended her Meaning at once. Mr. Normanby, the person whom I had been summoned to see, was one of my best patients, that is, best in its signification of pecuniarily beneficial to me. He was rich, often employed me, paid regularly—in fact, was a man by no means to be neglected. But best, considered as the superlative of good, and in its relation to himself, he was not. He was a bachelor; had lived a gay, free life as a young man; and now, at the age of fifty, had returned to New York, and, living at a hotel, devoted the whole of his attention to killing his time. This he had not found such an easy task as it would seem; and missing the stimulation of the excitement and dissipation of his youth, he had endeavored to supply its place by the effects of alcohol. He was how a confirmed drunkard; but not one of those stupid guzzlers who intoxicate themselves each day from necessity or mere force of habit; there was a method, a reasoned system, about his debauchery, upon which he prided himself, as showing, as he asserted, that he still had command over himself. It was his custom, on the first of each month, to begin to drink—not in company with others, and led on by the contagious example of convivial companions, but alone, and with the express purpose of getting himself drunk as rapidly as possible. Large amounts were required to do this; and day after day, as the effects of his inebriety wore away, the stimulation was repeated. The result was, that, generally by the fourth day after the commencement of his orgie, his nervous system broke down under this excessive excitement, and an attack of delirium tremens ensued. Under treatment and careful nursing, together with a good constitution, this was usually recovered from in two days. With the loss, therefore, of about twelve weeks out of each year, he was enabled to appear before the world, as a useless, but apparently respectable citizen.
I knew previously that my patient had commenced his accustomed monthly stimulation; therefore the words "them times" showed me plainly what was the matter with him, and what I was to be called upon to do.
The distance from my house to the hotel being quite short, but a few minutes had elapsed before I was in the chamber of my patient. I found several persons—boarders in the hotel—collected in his room, engaged in unavailing attempts to restrain the uninterrupted stream of garrulity which all persons in his condition are prone to indulge in, or holding him down by force each time he attempted to rise and leave the room. As would be expected from the means used, they succeeded in exciting him still more by their attentions, and by their constant replies to his questions. I at once requested all of them to leave the room except Mr. Dyer, the gentleman before referred to, who, in addition to being a personal friend of Mr. Normanby's, was known to me as a sensible, trustworthy man, from having, several times before, assisted me on occasions similar to this.
My first business, after their departure, was to examine the patient. I found him in a much more wild and excited state than ordinarily under his attacks. It was evident that he had taken much more than his usual amount of stimulant, and had continued it for a longer period, the reactive excitement was consequently proportionally greater. Still, however, there was nothing in his condition that portended more than a temporary trouble to him, or showed need of extra care from myself; and as uniformly before perfect quiet and silence had sufficed to dissipate the paroxysms, and simple abstinence and judicious nursing had been all that were needed after them, I apprehended nothing untoward or different at this time, and looked forward to a return to my book with perhaps only a couple of hours' detention.
At my request, and after very little urging, my patient was induced to lie down upon the bed with his clothes on, as I found him. When seated at his side I commenced a process of quiet reasoning with him, which I had always before found so soothing and efficacious. His room, situated in the fourth story of the hotel, was about twelve feet square—what is ordinarily called a hall bedroom, that is, it was the width of the main entry of the house. Its only door, which opened in the direction of the length of the entry, and facing the flight of stairs to the story above, was placed directly at the head of the bed. Opposite the bed, upon the other side of the door, stood the bureau. The sole window to the room fronted the foot of the bed and the door.
Much more readily than I expected his delirium and restless excitement seemed to vanish, and in the course of half an hour he lay so quietly upon his back, with his eyes closed, and breathing with such regularity that I made up my mind I had deceived myself a little in his case, and that his extra excitability had been occasioned by the presence of so many persons in the room. So tranquil did he become that, at about ten o'clock, Mr. Dyer, remarking that there seemed no necessity for his remaining longer, bade me good-night and retired to his room, which was but a short distance down the entry. It was agreed, however, between us, that before my departure I should call at bis room, when, if I considered it necessary, he would take my place and stay in the room with his friend the rest of the night, or, at all events, would remain up and within hearing, so as to render any assistance which might be required.
A few minutes later, and I also rose to leave. Going for my hat, which was upon a chair by the window, I turned my back for a moment upon the bed. As I did so the creaking of the bedstead attracted my attention, and I turned suddenly round. With his back to the door, his face deadly pale, and expressing the most settled determination, his eyes shining with the peculiar green, almost phosphorescent glare of the wildest insanity, stood my late quiet and tractable patient. But one moment was allowed me for this hasty glance, when opening the drawer of the bureau immediately at his right hand, he took from it a small case, and almost before I could realize his movements was brandishing in each hand an open razor.
There is no instrument in the world which has always seemed to me so blood-thirsty and terrible, er inspires me with such a nervous dread when about to use it, as a razor. This may arise from the frequent cases I have seen of perversions of its use to purposes of suicide, or from its deadly power as compared with its legitimate, simple, and innocent use. But a thrill has always been sent through me on seeing it held open in a person's hand, when no sensation of the kind would be experienced from seeing a sword, dagger, or knife in the same position.
It would convey no idea of my feelings to say that I was horrified at this sight. Neither could it be said that I was frightened, for though by no means a bold man I experienced no sensation like what I call fear. The predominant idea, as I remember it, was wonder, or rather surprise. The shock was too sudden, too unexpected, for me to feel either alarm or horror. His change from the position of perfect repose to that of full life and action—from the corpse-like stillness of a sleeper to the violent, quick, sharp movements of a person under the wildest nervous excitement—was so remarkable, so bizarre, as it were, that I can express my feelings no better than by saying that I tried to guess what he would probably do next. The thought of preventing him from doing as he wished never flashed through my mind, for though a person notoriously collected in trying occasions, and having already experienced my full share of perils, and though by springing forward I could have seized and perhaps prevented his opening his razor-case, it never occurred to me to move, but I stood like a statue looking at him.
For full five minutes we stood silent and motionless, intently watching each other. At last in a voice which, by its unnatural distinctness and calm, cool intonation, as it was, forced through his compressed teeth, seemed other than his own, he broke the stillness, which was getting to be absolutely painful.
"Doctor," he said, "sit down there!" pointing to the chair by the window.
I did not stir. Undecided exactly what to do, or what might be his next movement, and not liking to turn my back to him in order to comply with his request, I continued in the same position as before. Again that order came in its curt, icy distinctness from his jaws, which seemed absolutely not to move while he pronounced the words. But this time it was sharper, more of a command than a request; still I did not alter my posture.
One half minute passed and he came toward me. It seemed to me that he did not walk but absolutely glided over the floor, so elastic and catlike were his movements. With irresistible force, with his hand placed upon my breast, he pushed me toward the chair, while the very intensity of his wild power and determination were revealed as he absolutely hissed into my ear for the third time his command, "Doctor, you must take that chair!" Then for the first time, as breast to breast we stood, so that I could look directly into his eve, a feeling of terror seized me. In a moment I fully realized his own immense moral and physical power, and my own helplessness. All the fractional fears which one ordinarily experiences in the course of a lifetime seemed in that second condensed into an aggregation of horror of which I had no conception. There stood my patient, forcing me slowly back, with his left hand holding one razor, placed against my chest just below my throat, while the other razor was held but a few inches from my chin. His face was deadly pale. His lips, compressed and perfectly bloodless, were flecked with foam which bubbled up under his full, deep expirations. Occasionally a slight spasmodic tremor passed over them, but except this sign of life his countenance was as impassive and immovable as the face of the dead, or a statue cut from marble. I could not then have called aloud even had I wished it. I was fascinated, quelled by the cold, unearthly gleam which shot from his eyes as effectually as if I had been looking upon the head of Medusa. Perfectly powerless in his hands, I quietly followed the impulsion given my body, and seated myself in the chair.
"Sit up straight—so!" was the next order given by him, he at the same time suiting the action of his own body to the word. "Now fold your arms. There, now hold up your head!"
These commands were given by him as he stood directly in front of me, and were obeyed with a most commendable degree of alacrity. But the position was by no means comfortable. The chair in which I was seated was at all times, from its angularity and hardness, a fair model for a stool of repentance; but trussed up as I then was, my body erect as a ramrod, my chin at an angle of forty-five degrees, it became to me the most torturing of anxious seats.
After running his eyes slowly over my whole person, and apparently satisfied with my appearance and posture, my patient returned to his post with his back to the door. A dreary silence ensued upon this last movement—not a word was said or a motion made by either party for, it seemed to me, an hour. At last he again turned to me and said, "You can't go from here tonight, Doctor; I want you—I shall not let you go—you must stay here with me." As none of these happened to be questions, and as the consultation of my convenience did not seem to be uppermost in his thoughts, and as I could do no more than mildly suggest that I thought him rather unreasonable, and should be very happy to go, I said not a word but continued to stare diligently at the blank white surface of the opposite wall.
Time rolled on. The seconds, long as they seemed, grew into minutes, and these into hours; but still I sat in the same position, and motionless at his post stood my sentinel at the door. The most vivid imagination can not picture how oppressive was that perfect stillness. Except when some small piece of plastering fell rattling down upon the inside of the wall, or the creaking of the signs as they swung in the strong wintry wind, and the ceaseless, regular dropping of the rain from the roof upon an awning below, not a sound broke that dreadful silence for hours. The slightest movement on my part sufficed to throw him into a violent excitement—evidenced by the quick start of his whole body—and to bring upon me a look which made my blood run cold. Once only during this long period did he himself vary the monotony, and this interlude was not of such a character as to induce a wish for its repetition. Inspired, apparently, with some sudden and uncontrollable whim, he rushed toward me and commenced a Terpsichorean exhibition which completely put to the blush the most diabolical war-dance ever devised by a Camanche Indian, or the polka infernale in Le Ciel et L'Enfer. We darted forward, and then back; he leaped, like an ape, almost over my head; he whirled around on his own axis, like a spinning dervish—at the same time slowly circumnavigating me—with such rapidity that I could scarcely see the outlines of his form. During all this unpleasant display the razors were being flaunted in every direction, over and about every part of my person. Occasionally he would seize my arm, and, raising it, would pass one quickly round it, as if performing an imaginary amputation. Then he would divert his attention to my face and neck, carrying his razor so close to my throat that I could almost feel the clear cut through the air as it brushed by, almost touching my skin. Then it was brandished close to my eyes, and I was ideally shaved over and over again. But he seemed to devote the greater part of his attention to a small bald spot upon the top and back of my head. What he did I could not tell, but I often felt his hand upon it, and occasionally the cold side of the razor was laid flat upon the skin. Probably he looked upon me as some brother monk, and considering the tonsorial operation performed there by nature as radically defective, pictured to himself the way to give it geometrical regularity.
It would be impossible to describe what I suffered during those hours. My nervous system was strung to the highest pitch of intensity, and yet the necessary means for relieving it by some slight physical movement and change of posture was debarred me. Could I have walked, risen from the chair, or even freely moved my arms or head, it would not have been so intolerable, but repeated attempts showed me the danger of any experiments. At times I felt that I should go mad myself. I remember when the maniac waltz was at its height, laughing at its gayety, and feeling a strong inclination to rise and join in the insane revel. I revolved over in my mind projects of what wild things I would do when once again on my feet and at liberty. But this delirium was but temporary, and I continually roused myself from it by a strong exercise of my will. But most I feared that I should faint; several times I experienced that peculiar reeling, curve-motion sensation in the head which is the sure premonition of insensibility; and I shivered with fright as I thought what might occur if once I lay motionless and senseless in his power.
During one of the involuntary movements which either my nervous condition sometimes occasioned, or in order to give some support to my hand, I introduced it under the breast of my coat upon my vest. The amount of relief which I experienced by this simple act is indescribable, for, unseen by my watchful custodian, under the cover of the lappet of my coat I could move my fingers freely. I twisted them, I opened and clenched my hand, I pressed it against my body. This thing acted upon me as if new life had been given—as a full draught of wine to an exhausted and famished traveler. I felt more bold, more confident, better prepared to wait the result of my singular adventure.
It was during one of these movements of my hand that I all at once touched a cigar in my watch-pocket, which I then remembered I had placed there just before leaving home for use on my way back. At the same time that this occurred to me, I recollected that I had also put some matches into the same pocket. Slowly and cautiously I drew first the cigar from its resting-place, and immediately after the matches. Then, with a degree of boldness which I now can hardly account for, I steadily withdrew my hand and carried the cigar to my mouth. More than this. I afterward, with no more than a slight motion, ignited the match and then the cigar. What words can express the relief afforded me by that one smoke! No lazy Turk, as reclining on his silken divan he inhaled through his gorgeous narghileh the fragrant Latakieh, ever realized it. No Baboo, worth countless lacs, imbibed deep draughts from his favorite hookah with such pleasure. No kanaster-loaded meerschaum ever presented such attractions to a German student. Never did fine-cut and vulgar clay bring such a perfect sense of comfort to a tired hunter. It was the acme of intense and exquisite enjoyment. I smoked slowly, with long intervals between each inspiration. I dallied with the vapor as it slowly passed from my mouth and nostrils; I did not puff it, nor use up the weed—like many a health—by excess of fiery excitement, but allowed it gradually to consume away its life with no more stimulation than was needed to keep up the proper vitality. I was longer smoking that cigar than I suppose ever any one was before. But what impressed me as the most singular was the little notice taken of my action by my jailer. There was a start, and a slight movement forward, when I began; but he soon subsided into his customary apathetic indifference.
During the latter portion of the time of my smoking I had noticed that my patient was talking, mumbling unconnectedly to himself, as I supposed. He would turn his head toward the door and whisper something, which, at the distance I sat, I could not hear. He had continued this for some time, when, suddenly turning toward me, he ordered me, in the same terribly imperious way as before, to rise and lie down upon the bed. Glad of any excuse for moving my tired limbs, I rose at once, and, dutiful as any well-managed child, went and laid myself down as he directed. In this position my head, when on the pillow, was brought close to his body, and within a very few inches of the door, luckily for me, of that side upon which was the lock.
The interruption occasioned by my change of locality once over, the same monotonous silence was resumed. After a few minutes, however, Mr. Normanby again relapsed into his former apparently dreaming condition, and commenced anew his low muttering. But I was now essentially more advantageously situated. My posture was easier. I found, also, I could, by moving slowly, change into any position I wished. Moreover, I was near enough to him to almost hear what he was whispering. To discover this I now gave my whole attention, and strained my hearing so as to be able to form into some connected sentence the few disjointed words which I could make out. Although not very successful in this effort, I soon learned the tenor of what was passing in his mind. I found, by the lapse of time which he allowed between each sentence, and the careful way in which he turned his ear to the door, he supposed there was a person upon the outside, and that he was holding a conversation with him through the keyhole. It required no great effort of ingenuity on my part to make out that he thought that this person wished to enter. This was no sooner settled to my satisfaction than, putting together the few words I could overhear, I almost intuitively comprehended his thoughts, and prepared a plan of action. He supposed this person upon the outside wished to see me and tell me something; and what I heard were his answers to all the expostulations and requests to be admitted to do so.
I instantly felt I was saved, and confident as if already free, experienced the most perfect relief and self-possession. I began, at first, in low and whispered, but gradually in louder, tones to suggest questions and make replies to what I supposed his objections. Following the inflection of my voice, he quickly modulated his own to correspond, and soon we were holding an animated conversation at the ordinary colloquial pitch. During the time this had been in progress I had gradually worked myself to the edge of the bed, and had slid down one of the heavy hair pillows, which I firmly grasped in my right hand.
No great length of rime was required to make an arrangement. He finally agreed that the door should be opened a few inches, and that through this aperture the great unknown was to give me the information which he wished. My plan was to seize the door the instant it was opened, press my jailer firmly back against the wall by suddenly throwing it open to its full extent, fell him, if possible or necessary, with the pillow, and then, darting from the bed and room, spring into the room of Mr. Dyer, and at once close the door.
This was done on the instant; but I had over-calculated my own strength, when, lying in such a constrained position, and had not allowed enough for that with which he was gifted naturally, increased by the addition of the almost superhuman power of delirium. The result was, that, though springing with all my force against him, I found it like pushing against a rock. I could not open the door more than two feet, much less succeed in forcing him far back with it, or in upsetting him. I had but bare space and time to clear myself through the door before he stood ready for pursuit. I saw at once that I could not delay long enough to open the door of the next room, nor have an opportunity to close it even if once in. But one course was left—to mount the stairs to the story above. Up these I bounded, four at a jump, as if impelled from a mortar. I scarce knew the effort I was making, so extraordinary was the rapidity with which I flew. On reaching the top I saw a long entry before me, down which I rushed, knowing that life hung on the time that was made, but entirely ignorant how close my pursuer might be in my rear. As I ran down the entry I noticed, from the echoing sound of my own footsteps, that I was alone: he had not followed me; but still I was afraid to pause. At the end of the entry I found an open door-way, through which I darted, and then found myself in a species of lumber-room. Behind a barrel in one corner I at once ensconced myself, and, trembling with terror and my exertions, waited for what was to be the next act.
But all remained still. Not a sound was to be heard. I looked at my watch. It was a quarter past five. From ten o'clock—more than seven hours—I had been in a condition of greater mental agony than in the keenest efforts of my imagination I had ever pictured.
What to do now was the next question. It was not safe to remain there, for he might ascend at any moment; and yet I feared to move, for I knew nothing about the house, and whether there was another stairway by which I could descend. Taking off my boots, which I held in my hand as an offensive weapon in case of attack, I proceeded softly out into the entry. My examination soon showed me that there was no supplementary stairway. I tried the doors of all the rooms on each side of the entry. They were firmly locked. The room in which I then was had no door; in fact, it was a mere recess in the entry. I walked to the head of the stairs and looked over. The door of the room at the foot of the stairs, where I had been so long incarcerated, was closed. The house was still as death. With trembling, hesitating steps, prepared each instant for flight, I commenced the descent. I safely reached the foot, passed the dreaded door, and in a minute was in the room of Mr. Dyer, with the door firmly bolted behind me. He was lying, fully dressed, upon the outside of the bed, sound asleep, but was instantly awakened by the noise of my entrance. My hysterical condition, and feeble attempts at description, although not conveying a full idea of what had happened, soon gave him sufficient insight to consult with me and advise what should be done.
It was obvious to both of us that, in his condition, Mr. Normanby could not be left in his room alone, with such deadly weapons at his command. We decided, therefore, that we must, in some way, gain an entrance and disarm him. To suddenly burst in the door, rush in, and, each seizing an arm, hold him down by main force, was the first plan. But this entailed great danger, both to him and ourselves; for we had no means of knowing that he was not then standing prepared for just such an attack, and ready to use the razors on himself or the first to enter. Besides, it required a great degree of courage to face a powerful man like him, fully armed, and ready to commit any atrocity. It was finally agreed that we should try the effects of quiet reasoning and persuasion, and reserve violence as a last resort, and when better prepared by additional assistance. Before going on this dangerous errand I took the precaution of fortifying myself with a heavy oaken chair, while my friend, who was to lead the van, armed himself with a large cane, and, as a buckler against the razors, with a pillow from the bed. With no inapt resemblance to the knight of Mancha and his faithful squire (and certainly my sensations were those of that worthy on more than one occasion) we sallied out.
On reaching the door we knocked, and receiving no reply, turned the handle. It was firmly fastened. But, as response to the attempt, the question came as to what was wanted. Our request for admittance was denied, on the ground that the occupant was in bed and going to sleep. And, truly enough, standing upon the chair and looking through the small window over the door, I discovered my dreaded enemy snugly tucked up in bed and apparently fulfilling what he asserted.
Returning to our starting-place we held a second council of war. Nothing now seemed left for us but to break down the door, and rushing to throw ourselves upon him as he lay, each, if possible, seizing an arm. But at this juncture prudence dictated a suggestion. The performance of such a feat would necessitate much noise, which would, most assuredly, alarm the whole house, and in the confusion there was no knowing what might happen. I therefore proposed that it should be done deliberately—as it were, legally. That is, my friend was to go down, waken the keeper of the hotel, and inform him of what had occurred; while I was to go into the street and find some of the police, provided I did not have to hunt too much over all the upper wards.
In pursuance of this object we both descended, Mr. Dyer passing along the second story, while I went down to the office in the story below. Not a soul was awake; even the watchman was dozing in some out-of-the-way nook, at least none was visible. I traversed the marble-tiled floor of the office, reached the outside door, and had just stepped my foot upon the sidewalk, when, at that moment, I heard a loud, unearthly, piercing scream, the rushing sound of some heavy body falling through the air, a dull, sickening squelch—and there, upon the sidewalk, at my very feet, spattering me with his blood and brains, lay the bleeding, mangled body of the cause of my wretched night. He had thrown himself from the fourth-story window. I sprang to his side, raised his hand—there was a feeble flutter at the wrist, a cessation, and he was dead.
Does any one wonder why I can neither shave myself nor allow another to perform the operation?
A few days after the accident and the interment I found, one day, on my return to my office, a small package lying upon my table, accompanied with the following note:
"New York, February, 1859.
"My Dear Sir,—On settling up my brother's estate, to my great surprise, and consequent annoyance, I found that his extravagant habits during the past few years, together with an unfortunate investment which he had made in a company for manufacturing razors, had left him completely bankrupt. Indeed, there is nothing whatever to settle even a fraction of his debts. I regret exceedingly that your bill will have to be included in the general presentation of all claims against him. Feeling deeply, however, the kindness which you have always shown him, particularly in the last trying moments, I have taken the liberty of withdrawing from the sale of his effects the case of gold-mounted razors which I herewith send. They are two model ones, made by his factory for the Great Exposition, and I trust you will find them pleasant to use.
"With respect, I remain truly yours,
"Edward Normandy.
"Kosmos Viator, M.D."