XIAMATEUR MENTAL SCIENCE
MANY on board had noticed an invalid who took his airing in a rolling chair. It seemed very natural that he should appear melancholy at times, for he was said to be partially helpless, in fact paralyzed on one side. This was the unfortunate Mr. Onset, whom Mrs. Thorn desired to treat according to the impressionistic methods of the Mental-Mystic University-Sanitorium.
How it came to be rumored that she had obtained his consent and that he was already acting under her direction is really of little moment, for the fact soon became evident,—Mr. Onset himself willingly alluded to it. He explained that after trying many regular physicians he was about to visit certain baths on the Continent when he incidentally met Mrs. Thorn, and was only too glad to avail himself, in passing, of any hopeful aid; especially since “the method required no medicines which might interfere with subsequent treatment at the Spa, and demanded no faith,”—of the latter commodity he had little left to give to any system whatsoever. Mr. Onset was certainly trying conscientiously to be frank with himself.
The next thing known was that Mrs. Thorn had held a good orthodox business-mystic interview properly to diagnose the case; and had given the patient some published articles to read, the wording of which was most dexterously adapted to excite curiosity for—what next; and later on some manuscript letters to be perused when alone, the lights turned low so that no one else could read them by looking over his shoulder, nor find out how he kept them next the fifth-rib-covering of his heart. These latter letters must be made mysterious, simplybecause they communicated to the patient the mystical line of thought he was to follow while the Commandant of the Thought Center sat in her state-room meditating.
“Oh! I know exactly how it works!” exclaimed Mrs. Cultus.
“How? What?” asked Miss Winchester, laughing.
“Why, lying in your state-room bunk, meditating. I know the whole business, so does the steward. He brings me champagne in one hand and porridge-mush in the other. He reads my thoughts perfectly.”
What the printed matter given to Mr. Onset contained was soon known all over the ship,—an excellent advertisement; what the written pages contained Onset kept to himself, as if the subject-matter was rather too personal for discussion in either the men’s or women’s smoking departments.
Mutual meditations continued, however; mental impressions were presumably radiating, the vibrations presumably acting in a marvellous manner, having been promised to take a straight course direct from the state-room bunk to Mr. Onset’s legs and none other, which certainly was a vast improvement upon the expansion method of wireless telegraphy in communicating thoughts. And this even if the paralysis did remain as evident as before.
Yet curious to relate, these mysterious vibrations certainly did expand with most positive effects upon others; Mrs. Cultus continually on the lookout for substantial results, Frank Winchester jotting down absurd notes as they flew by, Paul continually vibrating between Adele and what she wanted. This until Adele asked if there was any book in the library upon “Practical Metaphysics.” Then Paul flunked, and sat down beside her. As to the Doctor——
One morning he and the Professor inquired of the patient how he was progressing:
“Slowly,” said Mr. Onset. “I still have little hope, but I certainly caught a new idea.”
Onset’s voice was unquestionably melancholy, from his ownpoint of view,—but not of that peculiar timbre, nor in any degree involved, as might reasonably be expected from a partially helpless paralytic.
“There is something strange about that fellow,” remarked the Doctor.
“I think so myself, but have not defined it as yet,” added the Professor.
“Did you ever observe a man paralyzed on the right side who could speak as he does, to say nothing of his power to talk and converse connectedly and with ease?”
Their conversation naturally became more technical than is desirable in this record, but it may be remarked that Professor Cultus’ mode of thought displayed an insight into the nature of mental processes in general, from the standpoint of the modern psychology; whereas the Doctor accentuated certain facts he had observed in Mr. Onset in particular. The Professor, very careful in what he stated and very cautious as to conclusions; the Doctor intensely appreciative, and ultra sanguine as to results. The Professor much better informed as to how details of anatomy were supposed to work; the Doctor understanding how they actually had worked in cases he had observed. They were, each of them, truth-seeking;—the Professor exceptionally explicit as to the anatomy, nerves, nerve-centers; especially clear as to “a veritable nerve-center having a strange domination over the memory of articulating words.” The Doctor insisted that Onset ought to manifest phenomena different from what he did if he suffered from veritable paralysis. Both being sure that paralysis of the right side of the body is undoubtedly connected by the nervous system with the left side of the brain; the careful Professor would not commit himself further as to Onset’s case; the sanguine Doctor did so at once:
“Onset is paralyzed on the right side. The organs of speech in his case are not affected, yet if speech should be affected, and is not, what becomes of the paralysis?”
A twinkle in the Doctor’s eye as he said this was noticed by the Professor.
“You seem to have discovered something,” said the Professor, smiling.
Another twinkle in the Doctor’s eye. “Rather! I think it must be another opportunity for the palmistry humbug. Mrs. Thorn and he are a pair, complementary, positive and negative. He a good subject, for her, perhaps a medium and all that sort of thing.”
“Go tell it to the marines on board,” said the Professor, laughing, as the Doctor hurried off to find Onset.
Onset’s hands amused the Doctor greatly. He found vitality much stronger than he had expected, but much less vivid characteristics of health:—color thin, action weak; texture smooth, fingers pointed; palm hollow and much crossed; groups of little lines on certain mounts (versatility); a fine development of a certain part of the hand (imagination, Mount Luna); thumb lacking in force of will, just the opposite to Mrs. Thorn; in fact, a number of details which in combination might be read several ways, but invariably showing marked susceptibility to fleeting impressions, mental-sensitiveness,—an active mind yet unstable characteristics, a liability to vagaries of some sort;—the natural tendencies of the individual also suggested in certain directions,—but let that pass.
Yes. Onset’s hands were amusing. The Doctor would not assert that the man was actually hipped then and there, but there was ample chance that he should be if circumstances led that way, the conditions favorable. He was just such a patient as Mrs. Thorn might succeed in curing. And then came the gist of the whole situation:
If Mrs. Thorn, why not anyone else? provided a counter-impression was given, vivid and forcible enough to convince the patientin spite of himself.
That afternoon found the Doctor, Miss Winchester, Adele and Paul, putting their heads together, mysteriously cogitating;evidently a plot on hand to give Mr. Onset another new idea.
“It can do no harm and may do the poor fellow some good,” whispered the optimistic Doctor. “Adele, your father will find it out soon enough himself, so we needn’t bother him just yet. In case of a rumpus the Professor will be just the one to fall back upon. He told me to go to the marines; we’ll make him our guardian angel,—our marine.”
Adele, laughing, wondered how angelic her father would appear acting as a marine.
“Remember!” whispered the Doctor, “all at your stations when the invalid is brought down to his state-room to retire at nine o’clock this evening,—now don’t forget. You see we’ve got to catch an idea before it gets away from us,—quick work;” and the chief conspirator bustled off to find Onset.
“There’s nothing like having a patient toned up previous to an operation,” said the Doctor, musing. “If we can succeed in directing the mind previously, and put him in a proper mood to receive the impression, the work will be well under way before he himself is aware of it. Mrs. Thorn seems quite an adept at preliminary work,—correct, but the preliminaries may reasonably include a counter-irritant. If we can produce premonitory suggestions leading up to an idea, the impression will have a better chance to operate, the idea to cure in its own way.”
“How are you this afternoon, Mr. Onset?” and he took a seat near the invalid.
“Not much encouraged. No doubt Mrs. Thorn is thinking the thing out in her room;—can’t say I feel any worse, and that may be her doings; but really this arm and leg are still so helpless that possibly when I retire to-night I ought to remain in my berth to give her a better chance.”
“Not if I know it,” thought the Doctor; then audibly, “Would you oblige me by attempting to stand up, if only onone foot, and allow me to support your weak side,—just for the effort?”
“It’s no use, my dear sir, not the slightest; I can’t move, for the life of me. I only wish I could.”
“Then let me roll your chair for a turn or two,” and without waiting for a reply he gently moved Onset to a place where both could observe some steam issuing from an aperture.
“What complicated machinery!” remarked the Doctor. “This ship must be a network of pipes, steam here at the side, and also from the top of the funnel, no doubt both connected with the boilers—boilers and live steam, live boilers and steam everywhere! Fortunately, explosions seldom occur.”
“What terrible things accidents must be,” quoth Onset, evidently interested and nervous; “terrible when one is helpless.”
“Sometimes not fatal,” quoth the dismal-cheerful Doctor; “it frequently depends upon one’s own exertions at the critical moment. I was myself once in a collision of passenger trains, our car turned upside down—thrown twenty feet. I lit head-foremost in one of those overhead parcel baskets which had been above my seat and was now below. Fortunately, I was able to pick himself up by the seat of another fellow’s breeches, and scrambled out through a window. If I hadn’t scrambled out that window I should certainly have been burnt alive!”
“Heavens!” exclaimed Onset, “there’s not even a window on this ship downstairs to crawl through. I should never get my leg through a port-hole, and probably be caught head out and legs in. Do you think there’s any danger, Doctor?”
“Well, there’s a good deal of live steam under high pressure about here; I really don’t know much about steam-fitters’ work, but if it were plumbing I should certainly say, yes. Thank fortune, it is not plumbing, Mr. Onset.”
“But it is steam-fitting,” quoth Onset, now becoming positive, his mental process very inconsequent, as with many of his type. “Now, Doctor, I’d like to ask you just one question, seriously you know, strictly private. I ought not to ask itbut I really must, under the circumstances. Mrs. Thorn has told me considerable about vibrations; now any fool can see that vibrations are not good for steam pipes, yet here we are. Now tell me frankly, do you think Mrs. Thorn’s meditations can affect or be affected by all this around us. She told me, most positively, that her meditations vibrating to me must not leak out—— Oh I wish she would accelerate a little if any good is to come of it.”
The Doctor at once made a plunge for his handkerchief, and blew his nose, enough to create more vibrations; then,
“Well, Mr. Onset, your perspicacity is remarkable; I never met anyone who detected possibilities, aye, even probabilities, more quickly than you do.” Onset felt flattered, the Doctor gave him time to pat himself on the back, and then,
“But there’s nothing like having one’s mind prepared for emergencies. If anything should happen, why, just call on me, Mr. Onset. Fact is, I’m now so accustomed to accidents both mental and physical that when not killed in the first crash I generally pull through.”
“Thanks awfully, I certainly shall. Doctor, my man James is good enough in ordinary emergencies, but I doubt his use in accidents. James! Jamie! here, Jimmy! take me back where I won’t see this steam, the odor and its suggestions are both unpleasant. Good-bye, Doctor, I must now take a rest.”
Onset’s organs of speech were certainly all right, but his mental apparatus decidedly leaky, and something the matter with his legs.
“I trust the preliminary tonic may not lose its effect before nine P. M.,” mused the Doctor as he went to report to the other conspirators.