Last year I paid a visit to the different schools of hypnotism in France, and I saw hypnotism used as a therapeutic agent in the wards of Professor Bernheim of Nancy, of Dr. Luys at the Charité in Paris, and of Dr. Auguste Voisin at the Salpêtrière. I became convinced of the reality of the phenomena, and of its great value as a therapeutic agent in certain cases, and therefore since my return I have made such use of it as time and opportunity permitted among the female pauper patients at Morningside Asylum. I here give an account of some of the cases I hypnotized and of the various reasons, both therapeutic and otherwise, for which I made use of this agent, and I shall conclude with a brief summary of its uses. I exclude from here, however, all examples of its use for physical ailments.

I think it is a general rule in all well-organized prisons, that, periodically, the staff holds meetings to take decisions upon the measures to be taken concerning the prisoners whose conduct is not, or has not been, following the regulation of the house.

While working purely on the lines of physical science it will be admitted that all observations recorded should be described in terms connoting physical phenomena, so given as to be capable of repetition, and, if possible, of measurement. No forces and no causes can be admitted as potent except those known to physiology and other branches of physical investigation. It follows that in dealing with the mental functions of the brain—here termed psychosis—we have nothing to do with “mind as an abstract entity” or with processes of feeling and consciousness, and must confine our attention to neural acts without either admitting or denying the existence of other potencies with which, while working on the lines of physical science, we are not concerned.

Among the many abnormal cephalic sensations the following constitute an important group:—

The class of cases described under the term Paranoia have long been recognized in England, though, perhaps, they have not been studied to such an extent as on the Continent, and have, no doubt, been looked at from a different point of view. The word in Greek literally means “madness;” we find it employed by authors synonymously with the terms Wahnsinn and Verrücktheit, and on account of the confusion existing between these, Mendel, in 1881, and Werner, in 1889, proposed to substitute “paranoia” for them. In this sense it may be taken to mean “systematized insanity,” a definition which covers all classes of paranoia.

Every asylum physician must regret the necessity that exists for the employment of narcotic hypnotics in medical practise among the insane, and there are probably few who have observed it who do not deplore the far too extensive use of sedative and depressing drugs, which is unfortunately the common custom in some asylums.

It is unnecessary to expatiate to this Association upon the extreme desirability of inducing the patients in asylums to employ themselves usefully, nor is it needful to dwell at length upon the extreme difficulty that is often experienced in so inducing them. It may be taken as a fact that many inmates of asylums who are able to work are unwilling to do so, and, if we listen to their explanation, the unwillingness is not altogether unreasonable. “I was placed here,” such a patient will say, “against my will. I did not come of my own accord. I am under no obligation to facilitate the plans of those who put me here, nor of those who keep me here. My refusal to work is a protest against the deprivation of my liberty. If I have to engage in the work of the asylum I should, in the first place, forego my protest, and to that extent admit the justice of my incarceration; and in the second place, by making myself useful to the authorities, I should give them a positive interest in detaining me here all the longer. Besides, why should I give the benefit of my skill and experience free, gratis, and for nothing to those to whom I am, to say the least, under no obligation? The labourer is worthy of his hire. Before I came here I worked hard and long. I had no objection then to work, and why? I tasted the reward of my labour. I was paid for what I did, and the more I worked the more payment I received. Pay me here for my labour, and I am willing to work for you.”

A short account will next be given of the other cases I have had the opportunity of examining.

The accompanying illustration represents what is believed to be a hitherto undescribed abnormality of the scalp. The condition was discovered accidentally. I observed an attendant cutting a lad's hair, and remarked that he was not doing it very well, as there appeared to be numerous scissor-marks. It was explained that the marks were due to the arrangement of the hair. This led to careful examination of the whole scalp. Its condition is very well represented in the illustration. On each side there are five deep furrows, passing from behind forwards. Those nearest the middle line are straight; the others slightly curved, and they are the more curved the further they are removed from the middle line, and at the same time they diminish in length. When the hair is of ordinary length the condition of the scalp would not be suspected; it is only when the hair is very short that the furrows become evident. For the purpose of preparing the accompanying illustration the hair was cut as short as possible, but the hair growing in the furrows was necessarily left somewhat longer than elsewhere, with the result of indicating with great clearness the course and arrangement of the depressions. The furrowing of the forehead is not abnormal, but is produced by the patient whenever he is annoyed, as he was when the photograph was taken.

That Tennyson touched the finest chords in our nature none will dispute. But there are poets who have done this without being what the lamented Laureate* unquestionably was—a psychologist. “In Memoriam” is full of psychology as well as feeling. He went deep down into the springs of human thought and action. “Lucretius” is psychological if any poem in the language is.

The case of Neill, the Lambeth poisoner, recently sentenced to death and executed for a diabolical murder, raised several points of medico-legal interest. (1.) The highly technical character of the chemical evidence which Mr. Justice Hawkins and the jury ex necessitate rei accepted from Dr. Stevenson without being able, as the learned judge very frankly admitted, to follow the elaborate tests by which that distinguished expert arrived at his conclusions, has once more brought to the public notice the position of scientific witnesses in the Courts of Law. Dr. Cook, of Bristol, in a notable letter to the “Law Times,” has suggested a new solution of the vexed and inveterate problem, How should scientific facts be established in juridical proceedings ? Let the tribunals, says Dr. Cook in effect, recognize their own incapacity and a fortiori that of jurymen to understand scientific processes, and let a commission of experts be appointed to inquire into and report upon issues referred to it by the judge presiding over the trial of any complicated medico-legal case. This commission would consist of, say, three members. It would have power to call before it the expert witnesses for the prosecution, and, if there were any, for the defence; to examine and cross-examine them; to hear counsel on the matters in dispute, and possibly to see the crucial tests performed before preparing and presenting its report. This scheme, which is partly borrowed from the continental system of preliminary reports, seems to us, however, to lie open to two objections. In the first place it would involve expense. The members of the scientific commission, unlike the arbitrators of a tribunal de commerce in France or Belgium, would have no career before them as the goal of their labours, and could not be expected to act gratuitously. Dr. Cook estimates that an annual sum of £2,000 would cover the working expenses of his proposal, and the British taxpayer could no doubt be induced to make this sacrifice if he were convinced that it contributed to the interests of justice. But a more serious objection remains behind. Suppose that the commission differed in opinion, could the judge safely advise the jury in a case of life and death to act upon the report of a bare majority? Would the jury take such advice even if it were given, and in every such case would not the tribunal be thrown back upon that very weighing of scientific testimony and balancing of scientific authority which it is Dr. Cook's great object to avoid ? We venture to think that there is a more excellent way. The law has given many hostages to the principle ubique in qua arte credendum. The Admiralty Division hardly ever disposes of a difficult question of shipping law without the aid of the elder brethren of Trinity House as nautical assessors. Every court, from the highest to the lowest, that possesses jurisdiction in patent cases has power to summon expert assistance. In the High Court of Justice itself judicial references are scarcely less common than public trials, and under the Rules of Court the judges are enabled to call in scientific experts in every cause other than a criminal prosecution by the Crown. If this power were simply made universal the end in view would be attained without expensive or elaborate machinery. The task of advising would belong to the assessor; the responsibility of deciding would rest, as at present, with the judge and the jury. (2.) On the trial itself we do not propose to dwell. The prosecution was conducted by the Attorney-General, Sir Charles Russell, with great ability, and in the main with exemplary moderation. The defence was all that could be expected under the circumstances, but the learned counsel for the prisoner—Mr. Geoghegan—like Serjeant Shee in defending Palmer, was, metaphorically speaking, placed in a cleft-stick. He had both to impeach and to uphold the scientific accuracy of the expert of the prosecution. The symptoms of Matilda Clover's death, said the learned gentleman in substance, may not have been due to strychnine poisoning, for Dr. Stevenson is fallible, and his tests may have yielded wrong results. But Ellen Donworth's death (with which Neill was not charged) must have been caused by strychnine, for Dr. Stevenson found it in her body, and Dr. Stevenson could not have been mistaken. A short interval of time, of course, elapsed between the use of these mutually destructive arguments which Mr. Geoghegan was compelled by the weakness of his case, and, indeed, by the very logic of his position, to employ. But their glaring inconsistency did not escape the eyes of the jury, and must have told heavily against the prisoner's chances of acquittal. There can be no doubt that Neill was properly convicted. No direct evidence of administration, indeed, was forthcoming, and the evidence of identity was so weak that we can readily understand the anxiety with which the counsel for the Crown are said to have watched the progress of the case. But the circumstantial evidence was strong enough to justify the verdict of guilty which the jury unhesitatingly returned. The alleged inadequacy of Neill's motive need not greatly concern us. To a well-regulated mind no such thing as an adequate motive for the commission of a crime can possibly exist, but on the unstable mental equilibrium of persons like Neill, the slightest and most obscure motive may operate with even more power. The old story told by Count Cenci to Cardinal Camillo throws some light on such judicial enigmas: