Except the Dying

His son’s face turned even redder. “My wife is a good woman, Doctor, and she loves me, Da. But he was taking poorly and she thought it would help if she gave him some tonic. To build him up. Completely harmless. She got it from the catalogue, sir. We all take it and it helps us. But Da is convinced and nothing will sway his mind.”

The old man began to pluck at his beard. “She hit me, too.”

“Did she now? That doesn’t sound too g-good. What happened, Latimer?”

The farmer shifted uncomfortably and twisted his crusher in his hand. “She had to, sir … well, you see, truth is me da was after pinching her where he shouldn’t.”

“I see. Walter, you’ve been misbehaving again … No, don’t spit there! Blast. Mrs. Stockdale, would you m-mind?”

The old man laughed, showing blackened gums. The nurse went to get a cloth. Rhodes stood up and went over to the chair.

“All right, let’s get on with the treatment. Mr. L-Latimer, will you stand behind your father. Don’t forget, during the session there must be no interruption.”

He pulled the other chair directly in front of the older man and sat down close to him with his knees on either side and his feet between the man’s legs.

“Remember what we did before? Animal magnetism? It helped you calm down, didn’t it?”

Latimer shrugged but didn’t reply.

“Now. Give me your thumbs, like so.”

Rhodes demonstrated by making loose fists with his hands, the thumbs upright. The old man did likewise, and Cyril grasped his thumbs with each hand.

“Close your eyes and relax yourself. No harm is going to come to you here.”

The old man’s callused hands were cold, and Rhodes waited until he could feel the temperature equalizing between his palm and the thumb. Then he let go, inverted his hands, raised his arms above the man’s head and made a sweeping movement down his arms, close to his body but not touching.

“You are going into a deep sleep, a deep and refreshing sleep. You are feeling very tired. Very tired and very heavy.”

His voice was strong and clear. When he was inducing magnetic sleep he never seemed to stutter.

He made the passing motion again. Up to the head and then in a big sweep down the arms again and along the thighs to the calves, back up and down to the flaccid stomach.

“Sleep. Deeply sleep.”

He kept repeating these words and making the passes over the old man’s body until twenty minutes had elapsed. The son was by now leaning against the wall looking as if he were mesmerized himself. Mrs. Stockdale stood, waiting calmly. Latimer gave a little snore and his head dropped forward onto his chest.

“Walter Latimer, listen to what I say. When you wake up from this sleep, you will find all your worries have disappeared. They have vanished away like dandelion fluff in a breeze. You will feel in wonderful humour, happy and content. You are with a family that loves you and you have nothing to fear. I repeat, when you awaken, your worries will have all evaporated. They will not return…”

He repeated this injunction twice more.

“Now I am going to wake you up. At the count of three you will feel a gentle breeze on your face and you will come completely awake.”

Rhodes reached his hand to the nurse, and she handed him a long feather.

“One … two … three.” He leaned forward and lightly stroked the old man’s forehead with the feather and at the same time blew on him lightly.

Latimer opened his eyes, which already seemed clearer and more focused.

“Where am I?”

“In the office of Dr. Rhodes,” answered Mrs. Stockdale in her crisp voice. The man swivelled around to look at her and caught sight of his son.

“Dickie! What are you doing here?”

“I brought you to see the doctor, Da.”

“I’ve been poorly again, have I?”

“You have that.”

“I feel right as rain now.”

Rhodes stood up, pleased. Mesmerism was the thing he liked best of all. It almost always worked, could relieve pain and anxiety better than any medicine. He spoke to the farmer.

“Make another appointment for your father for next week. Mrs. Stockdale will make up some more medicine.”

Dickie reached out and grasped Cyril’s hand, shaking it heartily. “I can’t thank you enough, Doctor.”

Rhodes withdrew his hand hurriedly and backed away. “J-just doing what’s needed. Mrs. Stockdale, give him another bottle of laudanum. Two grams of opium, add some cherry water.” He nodded at the son. “If your father shows any return of the delusions before next week, simply give him an extra dose with a shot glass of brandy. Do you have some brandy in the house?”

“No, sir, we’re temperance.”

“Never mind, then. The laudanum will be sufficient.”

His father smiled at him sweetly. “Have you got a plug there, Dickie?”

“When we get outside.”

Mrs. Stockdale took the old man by the arm. “Come with me, sir.”

He shuffled off with her but at the door he paused and glanced over his shoulder at Rhodes.

“Women’ll do you in every time if you let them,” he said.