A writer waltzes into a Paris hospital and asks a doctor to act incredibly unethically and the medico eagerly complies, as reported in an article in the February 1, 1893 issue of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle, which was originally published in the Pall Mall Gazette. An excerpt:

“The other day I wanted to include in a page of fiction a realistic description of the agonies that a starving person undergoes before death puts an end to the suffering. I had consulted several doctors and obtained from them statements of the symptoms preceding death from starvation. Still, I felt a description based on such information was wanting in certain particulars and could not well be put into the mouth of a supposed sufferer. Suddenly it occurred to me to go to the Hospital de la Charite, and beg the doctors attached to the Clinique Hypnotherapique to hypnotize one of the patients, to suggest that she was starving, and then to allow me to write down the sensations experienced by the subject as she described them. I called at the hospital unexpectedly and explained the object of my visit. The doctor smiled, and without a word sent for a patient, who was immediately put into a hypnotic state. Nothing passed between the doctor and the subject before she was hypnotized.

It was then suggested to her that she had been without food for many days and was actually starving. The patient soon showed signs of great suffering and distress and at the doctor’s invitation described the sensations she felt. I was astounded. A symptom that I had noticed in scores of cases among the starving Russian peasants last winter was described by the hypnotized woman with a physical movement familiar to me, although I had entirely forgotten it, and my attention had not been called to it by any medical man consulted.

The patient was taken by suggestion progressively through the stages of starvation as far as was safe  and was afterward brought back to a normal state on it being suggested to her that she had swallowed nourishing food. Still, it was some time before the food she had taken in imagination seemed to benefit her; she persisted in declaring that it caused her a great deal more bodily pain than the pangs of hunger. Dr. Jules Luys, member of the Academy of Medicine, the eminent professor at the Charite, was greatly interested in the result of this experiment, which was carried out for me under the observation of Dr. Encausse, his chief of the laboratory. He told me afterwards that he had known this woman for many years and was sure that she had not suffered from hunger.”

"Like Denzer he was a hopeless lunatic." (Image by Klaus with K.)

The Lunacy Commission of 19th-century New York had its hands full with the Ward’s Island Insane Asylum, since the guards were especially brutal and the patients exceedingly troubled, as evidenced by the following stories about the facility which were published in the Brooklyn Daily Eagle.

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“A Greenpoint Man Says Rag Soup Was Served To The Inmates” (June 26, 1894): “The state lunacy commission resumed its investigations into the condition of the insane poor on Ward’s and Blackwell’s Islands this morning in the Park Avenue Hotel, New York.

Henry P. Bradley of 1,544 Broadway, manager of a grocery firm, who spent several months in 1891 in Ward’s Island Asylum, testified to repeated acts of cruelty on the part of the attendants. John McSweeney, a resident of Greenpoint and an attendant at Ward’s Island in 1891 and 1892, testified to irregularities in the asylum, such as allowing patients to bathe in the same water and to the serving of soup which contained pieces of muslin and clothing to the patients.”

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"...and to the serving of soup which contained pieces of muslin and clothing to the patients."

“One Ward’s Island Inmate Brains Another” (April 26, 1880): “Charles Denzer, an inmate of the Ward’s Island Lunatic Asylum, murdered Terrence Shields, another patient, on Friday, in a fit of sudden violence. Denzer is a miner. In 1971, immediately after his arrival in this country he was sent to the emigrant asylum, and in 1874 was transferred at Ward’s Island, where he has remained since. Shields was by trade a plasterer. Like Denzer he was a hopeless lunatic. Previous to 1865 he lived at  No. 850 Washington St, New York. In that year he was sent to Blackwell’s Island Insane Asylum, and in the fifteen years he has spent there and on Ward’s Island his friends have gradually lost sight of him and left him to his fate. Both men were considered quiet and harmless. Though Denzer had twice attempted to take his own life, he never made any demonstrations of hostility toward other patients.

On Friday morning, as the men were about to begin the day’s work, Keeper Thomas Keenan called Denzer and asked him to take from a closet next to the pantry a long and heavy window stick, which he wanted to use. Denzer went to obey the order. Shields sat by the door of the closet reading, and held it open until Denzer came out. His head was bent, and he did not observe Denzer, who, without a word, lifted the heavy stick and brought it down upon his head with great force.”

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“An Inventor Goes Insane” (December 8, 1895): “George E. Fleet, an inventor, of 77 Roosevelt Street, New York, was sent to Ward’s Island Insane Asylum yesterday. Fleet went crazy trying to invent a patent bottle which, when emptied of its contents, could not be refilled.”

"He made the statement that he was 'the first born,' and that all who wished to be saved must gain salvation through him."

In 19th-century America, street preachers were often attended by riots and fisticuffs, as the following stories published in in the Brooklyn Daily Eagle clearly demonstrate.

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“Conviction of a Street Preacher” (November 26, 1855): “Hugh Kirkland, a notorious foul-mouthed street preacher was fine $10 in Cincinnati recently for using ‘bawdy, lewd and filthy language,’ there being a statute against such indecency in force in that city. About a dozen witnesses were examined for the State, who testified that he made use of language during his discourse the most foul and libidinous in its character, and which would be entirely too obscene for publication. He defended his own case and declared himself a victim of the Democratic Party.”

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“Arrested for Blasphemy” (May 15, 1895): “In Kansas City, Kan., last night, John Gabriel, in white trousers and white jacket, aroused a crowd of spectators almost to the lynching point by declaring himself to be a second Jesus Christ. He commenced to preach in the court house square. He made the statement that he was ‘the first born,’ and that all who wished to be saved must gain salvation through him. Cries of ‘Lynch him,’ ‘String up the blasphemer,’ and other like exclamations were heard on all sides, while the crowd moved in upon him, Gabriel was unmoved and calmly surveying the crowd continued to speak. At this juncture three policemen appeared and quickly started Gabriel toward the station house. The crowd soon recovered from its spell and pressed closely after the quartet. For a long time it seemed doubtful which would be victorious but the officers by hard work and considerable threatening finally landed Gabriel in the station house. Gabriel is 35 years old and claims to come from Cedar County, Ia. He says he will continue his assertions made to-night. If he does serious trouble is feared.”

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"Some of those arrested were Wide Awakes, who had been guilty of overt acts."

“Street Preaching–Riots and Assaults” (September 4, 1854): “Yesterday afternoon, as usual, several street preachers held forth on the Battery and from the steps of City Hall, N.Y.; and about 5 o’clock, a large party of Wide Awakes, who had been listening to a preacher on the Battery started in procession of the Park, attended by some policemen, but as they were emerging from one of the gates of the Battery a party of Irish rushed upon them with knives, pistols, etc., and in a moment James Wood, a peacable citizen was dangerously stabbed in the left shoulder and side. About a dozen pistol shots were fired by either party, but fortunately, but one man was injured. His name could not be ascertained as his friends bore him quickly away. The police and Wide Awakes finally succeeded in scattering the Irish and then marched up to the Park, but the Irish had again formed, and on reaching the Park commenced a series of assaults and running fights.

The police soon succeeded in clearing the steps of the City Hall of the thousands on and about them, and the preacher, with a part of the crowd, proceeded up Broadway, he preaching as they walked. Another party started up Chatham Street, and still another down Centre Street, in all of which there was more or less fighting. As the day closed, the parties finally dispersed, the police having arrested seven persons, all of whom were locked up by Justice Osborne for examination. Some of those arrested were Wide Awakes, who had been guilty of overt acts. Mr. Wood, the person who was stabbed, was conveyed to his residence, No. 304 Eighth Avenue.”

"Some surgical operations on the brain result in increasing the intelligence of the patient."

Neurosurgery was a brave new world in the 19th century, and the Brooklyn Daily Eagle greeted its dawning with its usual shaky grasp on facts. An excerpt from an article in the October 13, 1895 issue:

“It is only in the late years that surgeons have operated on the brain. They can remove a pistol ball from the brain where, as in some cases, it has lodged without fatal results, and send the patient about his business in less than two weeks’ time. A quarryman by the premature explosion of a blast had a drill driven through his head, piercing his brain through and through. A successful surgical operation was performed upon him.

Some surgical operations on the brain result in increasing the intelligence of the patient. An eminent expert in brain surgery in this country (Dr. Kean of Philadelphia) made a particularly successful operation on an epileptic boy of 16 who in ten years had 5,000 fits. An extraneous growth of nearly an ounce was removed from the right parietal region. Another expert has predicted that in course of time operations of the brain will be performed for the relief of apoplexy and epilepsy, and that such operations will be successful. A few years ago there was a little girl patient in one of the hospitals of Paris. She exhibited an almost utter absence of intelligence. She had a mournful look, lackluster eyes and could not be aroused even to take an interest in dolls. She breathed with difficulty in consequence of the thorax having stopped its development, and her brain had ceased to grow at an early age owing to the premature coalescence of the bones in infancy. The surgeon Lannelongue attributed her unfortunate condition to the narrowness of the cranial box, and believed that if more space were given to the brain her idiocy would disappear and she would attain a normal existence. The operator who had previously experimented on dead children in studying the same trouble made a long and narrow incision in the middle of the skull, and on the left side, which was more depressed than the right, removed a substance of tissue bone nine centimeters long by six millimeters broad. The dura matter, which is in the exterior envelop of the brain, was not touched, and the superficial wound was united by the skin again. Within three weeks after the operation there was a remarkable change in the child; she walked, smiled and became interested in all  that was going on around her. An operation exactly parallel to this was performed by an American surgeon in Cincinnati; in this case the child was much younger, but the operation was completely successful.

Another singular case was that of a housemaid employed in a New York family. She began to show signs of exceptional stupidity; so much that she became unable properly to attend to her duties. One of the first things the girl did was to visit a New York hospital on a friendly call to her sister, who was employed in the institution. The discharged servant had often complained of having severe headaches. A young physician in the hospital, hearing her speak of her trouble, made an examination of her head and found that the bones of her skull had never knitted together. A surgeon operated on her head and succeeded in closing the aperture. Only a few days after the operation the girl became as bright as she had ever been, was taken back by her former employer, where she was soon recognized as one of the most accomplished housemaids.”

"It appears that in that city the public takes its steaks in capsules of concentrated beef."

The only way to explain the following August 28, 1899 old print article is that either people in Indianapolis were taking their dinner in pill form or editors at the Brooklyn Daily Eagle were taking their lunch in liquid form. More likely the latter. An excerpt:

“Capsule banquets? Well, hardly! The idea of sitting around a table in company, taking pills and bursting into song, quip and jest and eloquence over a pellet! What are the scientists trying to do? Drive all the gayety out of the world? Such is the horrible possibility disclosed by way they dine in Indianapolis. It appears that in that city the public takes its steaks in capsules of concentrated beef–little capsules no bigger than a quinine pill. All that the hotel keeper has to furnish with it is a glass of water and a crumb of salt. Then they take a little powder which used to be a potato and toss that down, and if a regular table d’hote dinner as required a compressed tomato for salad and a little thing that looks like a bean, but is really a whole mince pie, is swallowed, and after that a demitasse follows of about the size of a homeopathic pill.

This kind of thing may do for Indianapolis and other Western cities where people are so busy making money and politics that they would forget to eat if they did not have their dinners in their pockets and have alarm clocks that went off warningly at the time to take them. But we can say to Indianapolis right now that she need not look for any outside endorsements of her persnickety practices. When we eat we do so not merely to sustain life, but because, when the right sort of victuals are afforded, it is fun to eat. We like to eat in company and bandy remarks across the table and up and down the length of it, and we like to wash down every course with colored liquids that look as if they were drawn from the jars and bottles that druggists keep in their windows, but are different. We are especially anxious as to those liquids. If in an emergency we consented to take our steaks in pellets and eat our soup dry in one tiny mouthful, are we supposed to take champagne and other mineral waters in a mustard spoon? Shall we quaff out Chateau Yquem and our Pontet Canet in single drops that would get lost between our tongue tips and our throats?

Why, the mere anxiety of keeping track of the potables in a dinner like that would offset all the possible pleasure to be had out of the banquet. Suppose a waiter were accidentally to stuff a couple of cases of Chablis into his vest pocket while he was gathering a service of fried chicken out of a pill box, and spill all the wine! Where would he then be and where would be the dinner? No sirs. We prefer to believe that stomachs were given to us in order to do work, and we do not thank the scientists who are trying to persuade us that all of our waking hours should be diverted from dinner and refreshments and devoted to labor and Lofty Thought. If this is all that science intends to do for us, down with science! Meantime, let us keep putting down pudding and cocktails and a lot of other joys.”

"He proposed that the ceremony be performed by phonograph."

The record player was initially a disappointing technology, but one nineteenth-century Brooklyn undertaker found use for it during an unusual funeral. An excerpt about the odd ceremony from an August 18, 1895 article in the Brooklyn Daily Eagle:

“Undertaker Stillwell of Gravesend has at last achieved his desire and held a funeral with the services conducted by a phonograph. In spite of its novelty there was nothing indecorous about the circumstances and in fact the mourners were visibly affected.

Augusta Burr, a baby of 16 months, who had been posing in a Coney Island museum as a freak, she being the size of a child of 5, and weighing ninety-three pounds, was in perfect health until Monday. She began to suffer from her teeth and then pneumonia set in. Thursday she died.

Mr. Stillwell was given charge of the funeral. As the relatives were non-residents, they desired a modest and speedy funeral, and being poor they wanted it to be cheaply conducted.

This was agreed to, and Mr. Stillwell had the body of the infant taken to his undertaking establishment, on the Neck Road, in the town of Gravesend, Saturday afternoon, when the mother and sister met with others to accompany the body to the Gravesend cemetery, where it was to be interred. The mother expressed a wish that a clergyman might be secured to conduct  a burial service over the body of the baby. There was no clergyman to be got handily, and Mr. Stillwell so told her. Her grief at this statement affected him, and then he proposed that the ceremony be performed by phonograph. The mother immediately agreed to it.

Mr. Stillwell is an expert in the management of the phonograph, and placed the records already made in their proper order, as the weeping relatives and friends gathered around the coffin containing the remains of their dear one.

First the Lord’s Prayer was rendered with a solemn emphasis that took away all the suggestion of mechanical effect. It impressed the mourners. Then a record by the Mozart quartet of the hymn, ‘Nearer My God to Thee,’ was given on another cup and after that the verses of the Scripture usually given at funerals and beginning with the words, ‘Man, who is born of woman,’ etc., were rendered with full emphasis. Then a solo, ‘The Sweet Bye and Bye,’ recorded by Miss Loreen Williamson of Gravesend was repeated. The closing portion was the committal service used by the Reformed Church denomination. The remains were then conveyed to the town cemetery, where they were interred without further ceremonies.

Mr. Stillwell, when spoken to on the matter last night, said he was entirely satisfied with the result. He said:

‘It was a solemn, if a novel scene. I confess I felt a degree of trepidation when the service began, but when the inanimate machine, with its whirring accompaniment, began the solemn words, they seemed invested with a feeling of comfort, and touched everyone present.'”

"He tried every method imaginable to kill the turtle."

You would imagine by virtue of their profession that taxidermists lead unusual lives, but 19th-century practitioners of this profession had especially turbulent existences. A peek into their world, courtesy of several articles from the Brooklyn Daily Eagle.

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“Tenacity of the Turtle” (September 15, 1899): “H.R. Dill, the Gardiner taxidermist who recently received a large hook bill turtle to be mounted from the game commissioners, was surprised when he commenced work on the shelled monster to find that he was alive. He tried every method imaginable to kill the turtle, but was unsuccessful until he removed its heart and placed it upon the table. In this position and pinned to the table by a knife, this organ pulsated regularly for three hours before it died.”

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“Heart Disease or Suicide”  (January 11, 1893): “William J. Kampfmueller, a taxidermist of 365 Broadway died suddenly at his home, 303 Hewes Street. His friends say that he died of heart disease, but neighbors whisper about suicide.

A month ago one of Mr. Kampfmueller’s clerks absconded with a large sum of money, and ever since the taxidermist, who was 52 years old, had been very despondent as it crippled him considerably in his business. He was seen about the place yesterday morning and was in good health. The family says that he died of natural causes and indignantly deny the theory of suicide.”

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"Cats are more frequently stuffed than any other kind of animals."

“Taxidermy and Its Profits” (August 14, 1887): “A few blocks distant from the bird fancier’s is the shop of a taxidermist. Its owner, a little old man with a very bald head, received the reporter cautiously. He said: ‘This is the best time of the year for my business. In the Spring and Summer many handsome birds are shot. These are often brought to me to stuff. Cats are more frequently stuffed than any other kind of animals. I get $5 for stuffing one, where formerly I received triple that amount. While many taxidermists use straw, I prefer cotton. Hair is sometimes used, but it is too expensive. It costs $1 to stuff a parrot. Smaller birds cost less.'”

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“Taxidermist Fails” (August 13, 1900): “Corpus Christi, Tex.–Professor G.W. Knott, as an Englishman, employed by the British Museum as a taxidermist in Texas and Mexico, was drowned Sunday night in the bay here. Knott was landed at the Central Wharf in a yawl boat from the schooner Reliable, which brought him from Mustang Island, near this city, where he had been engaged for several months securing the specimens of all kinds of water fowl. When he landed on the wharf the professor was somewhat under the influence of liquor and fell backward into the water, drowning before he could be rescued. Professor Knott was one of the most expert taxidermists in the world.”

"Dr. W.H. Shoemaker, a talented and leading physician of this city, has been declared insane owing to have become a vicitm to the cocaine habit."

Cocaine, for a brief time, was a popular 19th-century anesthetic and treatment for minor illnesses, before people realized it was highly addictive. Physicians who had easy access to the drug often became hooked on it, as the following stories from the Brooklyn Daily Eagle demonstrate.

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“He Operated on Himself” (May 15, 1889): “Birmingham, Ala.–Dr. W.H. Shoemaker, a talented and leading physician of this city, has been declared insane owing to have become a victim to the cocaine habit. While under the influence of the drug he in December last performed upon himself probably the most unique and most remarkable surgical operation ever recorded. He had been a sufferer for some time from a tumor on his liver. One night while he was alone he took his surgical instruments and deliberately cut into the abdominal cavity, cut the tumor from his liver, sewed the incision up, showed the tumor next morning to his brother physicians and has since entirely recovered. His use of cocaine previous to the operation became habitual.”

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“He Gave Cocaine Recklessly” (February 25, 1893): “Jackson, Mich.–A local physician, himself a confirmed taker of cocaine, has brought many of his patients under its influence. Reputable medical men have determined that the practice must stop and that the practitioner himself be put under treatment or be debarred from practice. Some of the best class of citizens are addicted to the habit, and the local press publishes a list of hundreds. The majority of the victims became addicted to cocaine before knowing what they were taking, it having been administered for throat troubles, hay fever and many minor ills.”

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“Started a Fire in His Room” (December 17, 1896): “Crazed by the use of morphine, cocaine and whisky, Dr, Floyd Lamott Danforth, a dentist, with offices at East One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street, New York, piled his effects in the center of the floor of his apartments early this morning and set fire to them. He then went out and told the police. The fire was extinguished before any material damage was done and the unfortunate man was taken to the East One Hundred and Twenty-fifth street station and locked up.”

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"Dr. Manaton is addicted to the use of cocaine." (Image by Anssi Pulkkinen.)

“Cocaine Made Him Crazy” (January 6, 1894): “Greenport, L.I.–The monotony of life in Greenport during the season was broken last night and the whole town was thrown into a fever of excitement by the antics of a crazy physician armed with an axe. The unfortunate is Dr. Manaton, who, associated with Dr. Wilson, has been practicing in Greenport since his removal from Brooklyn last summer.

Dr. Manaton is addicted to the use of cocaine. Last night he took an overdose of the drug and became violently insane. He had just retired to his room and was but partially dressed when the attack came upon him. His sister and the servant had retired and they were aroused by a tremendous racket in the doctor’s apartment. They realized that the windows were being shattered and the furniture being smashed and suspected the cause. The women locked themselves in the room and the work of destruction went on. They heard the doctor go down stairs and out into the yard. When he returned Miss Manaton peeped out of the door and saw that her brother had armed himself with an axe and with it he commenced to chop away the stair railing. The frenzied man caught sight of his sister through the partly open door and made a rush for her with the uplifted axe. She closed and locked the door and before he succeeded in breaking it in with the axe the two women escaped through a door into an adjoining room and made their way out of the house clad only in their night clothes.”

"The gallant ventriloquist thereupon assaulted the remonstrating husband."

There was perhaps no bigger reprobate in 1880s New York than the ventriloquist, as the following reports published in the Brooklyn Daily Eagle demonstrate.

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“A Gallant Ventriloquist” (July 20, 1886): “Charles Young, a ventriloquist, who earns a living by exhibiting his acquirement at the West End, Coney Island, was arraigned before Justice Newtown there yesterday afternoon, on complaint of John Dunn, a cottager on the Island, who accused him of assault. Dunn told the Justice that Young had been out walking with his wife and when they returned home Dunn told Young that he should not be so free with another man’s wife. The gallant ventriloquist thereupon assaulted the remonstrating husband, who had him arrested. Young denied the charge and said he had a thousand young ladies to go out with, without taking another man’s wife. He was placed in $200 bonds to answer.”

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"A large crowd of people were attracted to the cemetery and they all concluded it was a ghost." (Image by Sukanto Debnath.)

“It Was Not a Ghost” (September 23, 1887): “Frederick Schmidt, of Middle Village, is an accomplished ventriloquist. On Tuesday night, about midnight, he secreted himself in the Lutheran Cemetery, on the outskirts of the village, and began to shriek ‘Murder! Murder! Oh, spare my life!’ at the top of a lofty falsetto voice. Justice Louis P. Knickmann and a large crowd of people were attracted to the cemetery and they all concluded it was a ghost. The justice chased the voice, but could not locate the specter and his hair stood on end along with the hair on the head of everybody present. Finally the voice seemed to hover over the crowd and then the justice and the crowd broke for Middle Village on a dead run. The justice cleared a fence six feet high surrounding the cemetery and was not aware of the fact until reminded of it two hours afterward by one who had observed the feat with astonishment. The justice is a large man. Mr. Schmidt has been smiling ever since.”

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“Harry Kennedy Assaulted” (August 18, 1886): “Harry Kennedy, the ventriloquist and saloon keeper, met a few friends in a saloon at the Willink entrance to Prospect Park last night. He became involved in a dispute with a stranger and they clinched. Kennedy was thrown on his back, and the stranger kicked him about the face and body. His friends could not interfere, as they were under the influence of liquor. The strange man escaped from the room, and as no one knows him he will probably never be captured. Kennedy was taken in a carriage to his Coney Island saloon and is confined to his bed. His face is cut in several places and his body is covered in bruises.”

"When he went to the second story window the young man offered him whisky soaked bread."

This story about a soused monkey originally ran in the Louisville Courier-Journal and was reprinted in the August 2, 1901 Brooklyn Daily Eagle. An excerpt:

“The unusual spectacle of an intoxicated monkey, gaudily dressed in red and gold, throwing nickels and pennies at a crowd of children almost resulted in a tragedy on Chestnut Street the other morning.

The monkey was more intelligent than most of his race. He wasn’t young and his queer behavior could not be attributed to his inexperience. Of course, he was the property of an organ grinder. Up beyond First Street, the ‘musician’ stopped and ground out ‘I’d Leave My Happy House for You,’ always a favorite with the neighborhood students.

At a second story window, the little beast saw a young man standing. The stranger beckoned and the monkey quickly climbed to him. The window was opened and the little climber disappeared within. Five minutes later he climbed down the lightning rod. After that the whole monkey family would have been scandalized could they have witnessed his actions. For a block he was unruly. Then he began to separate himself from the money which he had collected . Nickels flew in every direction.

But the animal kept on jabbering. It was not his fault that he was drunk. When he went to the second story window the young man offered him whisky soaked bread and the animal ate heartily.”