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Psychedelic Psychiatry
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Psychedelic Psychiatry
erika dyck
Dyck, Erika.
Psychedelic psychiatry : LSD from clinic to campus / Erika Dyck.
p. ; cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN-13: 978- 0- 8018- 8994-3 (hardcover : alk. paper)
ISBN-10: 0- 8018- 8994-4 (hardcover : alk. paper)
1. LSD (Drug)–Therapeutic use—History. I. Title.
[DNLM: 1. Lysergic Acid Diethylamide—history. 2. History, 20th
Century. 3. Lysergic Acid Diethylamide—therapeutic use.
QV 11.1 D994p 2008]
RC 483.5.L9D93 2008
616.89'18—dc22 2007049668
A catalog record for this book is available from the British Library.
Special discounts are available for bulk purchases of this book. For more
information, please contact Special Sales at 410- 516- 6936 or
[email protected].
Preface vii
Acknowledgments xi
Introduction 1
1. Psychedelic Pioneers 13
2. Simulating Psychoses 32
Conclusion 138
Notes 145
Bibliography 171
Index 193
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preface
Since I began studying the history of LSD (d-lysergic acid diethylamide) I have
often been struck by people’s reactions to my work. Some have asked me
whether LSD is the drug that causes brain damage. Others have heard that it
permanently alters chromosomes or that traces of the drug remain in the body
forever, causing horrific flashbacks and making even one-time users into prime
targets for failed drug tests. Many people’s perceptions of LSD are intimately
linked with danger. People will casually say that they like to smoke marijuana
once in a while or that they would consider taking ecstasy, but they would never
try LSD. Some people have told me stories of someone who knew of someone
who was permanently “damaged” after taking LSD, though few people have
ever met such individuals. I remember hearing similar stories from my own
friends while growing up, like the one about the guy someone knew who took
too much LSD and believed he had been turned into an orange. He allegedly
spent his days sitting alone fearing that someone was going to peel him. People
who feel that the drug is dangerous usually assume that my investigations into
the history of LSD will prove them right.
There are a lot of other people who take a different view. When I give presen-
tations on the subject, invariably somebody approaches me afterward to tell me
a story about one of his or her experiences with LSD. These people are, for ex-
ample, professors, students, medical professionals, and psychologists. They all
appear to be healthy, rational, and well adjusted. Sometimes they want to tell me
about an amazing concert they attended while on acid, but then ask me whether
they may have put themselves at risk of long-term effects. Others reminisce
fondly about their experiences with the drug and believe that it had a very posi-
tive effect on their lives. Most of the people who make these confessions assure
me that LSD changed them, that it was different from other drugs, and that the
experience remains largely indescribable.
viii Preface
I am almost always asked about my own experiences with the drug. I sup-
pose people think that only somebody who has tried LSD could have developed
such an interest in the topic. Alternatively, they assume that somebody who
spent years studying the history of the drug must have generated an over-
whelming appetite for it. A lot of people ask me where they can get some. I do
not know.
When I began my research into the history of LSD as a graduate student, I
expected to uncover horror stories about irresponsible research experiments,
addictions, and ruined lives. There is no doubt that some LSD consumption has
had negative consequences and that some unethical experimentation with
psychedelic drugs took place in clinical settings. But what I have since learned
is that this is not, by any means, the whole story. I had the opportunity to closely
examine the records of a large set of experiments conducted in Canada in the
1950s. I was surprised to learn that the psychiatrists involved in these experi-
ments went to extraordinary lengths to study the drug before giving it to pa-
tients and even tested it on themselves first. There is no question that the
patients volunteered for LSD treatments.
Although I had access to patients’ files from these early experiments, research
ethics agreements stipulated that I could not contact any of the people named in
these files, nor could I include their names in any publications. However, word
spread about my investigation and former patients began to contact me them-
selves. This very small number of individuals who had been treated with LSD
forty years earlier added a crucial perspective to my study. When we think about
taking LSD as a treatment we may think about it as being a very risky endeavor.
These people explained to me some of the circumstances that led to their partici-
pation in the trials as alcoholics. Alcoholism had affected their families, jobs,
and bodies, their whole lives, so profoundly that they were prepared to try any-
thing to find a solution. One former patient explained that he would have walked
through fire if he thought it would help him stop drinking. They all remained
loyal to the psychiatrists who gave them LSD. Of course, I was not in a position
to follow up with all the patients who had been treated in this way. The testimo-
nies I did manage to collect, though not necessarily representative, contribute an
important perspective that is not found in the textual records.
In addition to the patients who took LSD, I also heard from former graduate
students, nurses, psychiatrists, psychologists, and architects who were involved
in the experiments. Many recounted stories about taking LSD with various ca-
veats or claims ranging from But I only took it once, to try and understand what
my patients/subjects might expect to The stuff is harmless. . . . I probably took it a
Preface ix
hundred times, the first summer. Many of these people were octogenarians when
I met them, which should call into question concerns about the long-term
effects of the drug.
How should we reconcile these findings with the connection that continues
to exist in the public mind between LSD and danger? This book is the result of
my quest to understand this dichotomy.
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acknowledgments
for the Social History of Alcohol and Drugs have offered especially rich op-
portunities for me to meet with scholars who share my academic love of his-
tory, medicine, and drugs. Jackie Duffin, David Courtwright, John Burnham,
Shelley McKellar, Geoffrey Reaume, Michael Sappol, Sasha Mullally, James
Moran, James Hanley, Matthew Gambino, Robin Room, Dan Malleck, and
Catherine Carstairs provided invaluable comments. Geoff Hudson, Peter
Twohig, and Maureen Lux, in addition to providing enormous academic sup-
port, helped me to pause and celebrate.
No historical examination could proceed without the help and expertise of
archivists. In this regard I was most fortunate. John Court at the Centre for Ad-
diction and Mental Health Archives, Patrick Hayes at the University of Sas-
katchewan Archives, Kam Teo at the Weyburn Public Library, and Jackie Malloy
at the Soo Line Museum in Weyburn tracked down innumerable requests for
me. I logged many hours in the Hoffer collection at the Saskatchewan Archives
Board, where I am tremendously grateful for the archival expertise of Nadine
Charabin and Christie Wood, Wanda Jack, Bonnie Wagner, and others for pho-
tocopying box after box of documents.
In addition to archival records, I am grateful to everyone who shared their
memories with me; this book is better as a result of their candid reflections.
John Mills, Arthur Allen, Duncan and June Blewett, Ian MacDonald, Neil Ag-
new, Robert Sommer, Allen Blakeney, Frank Coburn, Joyce Munn, Sven Jensen,
Terry Russell, Amy Izumi, and others who know who they are. I am especially
indebted to Abram Hoffer who gave me permission to examine his extensive
collection of papers in Saskatoon, who always provided further detail upon re-
quest, but who never interfered in my interpretation of his work.
Ryan Lockwood and Anand Ramyya made a film called The Psychedelic Pio-
neers from which I learned about presenting history in a different medium.
That project introduced me to some of the real benefits of interprofessional col-
laboration, and my book is better for this experience. The Social Sciences and
Humanities Research Council and McMaster University funded my work as a
dissertation; Associated Medical Ser vices and the University of Alberta have
provided me with funding that has allowed me to concentrate on completing
this manuscript while establishing a history of medicine program in the facul-
ties of medicine and dentistry, and arts.
Earlier versions of chapters 1 and 3 were previously published, and I thank
the editors of the respective journals for their permission to reuse this material:
“Land of the Living Sky with Diamonds: A Place for Radical Psychiatry?” Jour-
Acknowledgments xiii
nal of Canadian Studies 41, no. 3 (2007): 42–66 (chapter 1); “Hitting Highs at
Rock Bottom: LSD Treatment of Alcoholism, 1950–1970.” Social History of Med-
icine 19, no. 2 (2006): 313–29 (chapter 3).
Finally, the support offered by my family and friends has been tremendous.
Susan, Alana, Noel, Vered, Ian, Sherry, Alicia, David, Erna, and the myriad soc-
cer teams who have added me to their rosters over the years have sustained me
through this process. My parents, Penny and Philip, courageously looked the
other way when I moved to Toronto, then to Alberta, but have been wonderfully
supportive of me, always. Finally, though he passed away midway through my
doctoral work, I could not have dreamed my way through a PhD without my
grandad’s love.
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Psychedelic Psychiatry
This page intentionally left blank
Introduction
patients in the 1950s was Val Orlikow, the wife of one of Manitoba’s federal
members of Parliament, David Orlikow. Val originally approached Cameron
seeking therapy for postpartum depression; she was given LSD without her
consent. Thirty years later, she and her husband launched a federal government
investigation into Cameron’s experiments on patients at the Allen Memorial
Hospital. The highly publicized court proceedings put human faces on the con-
sequences of involuntary LSD research.10 These subversive and conspiratorial
aspects of LSD’s history underscored fears that the drug belonged in a dark
chapter of the history of involuntary psychiatric experimentation.
By the early 1960s, black market versions of acid appeared and its famed
euphoric high gained popularity, especially among college students. During
this period, the baby boomers became a demographically significant group
whose collective enfranchisement threatened to derail the status quo. Political
activism in the form of civil rights movements, feminism, American Indian
movements, the Quebec Quiet Revolution, and anti–Vietnam War protests of-
fered proof that this younger generation of North Americans was agitating for
change. While this cohort of youths seemed to embrace radical movements,
they also appeared to have a penchant for drug use; indeed taking drugs such as
marijuana and LSD became an important badge of their collective identity.
LSD also inspired the rise of unorthodox spiritual gurus, notably former Har-
vard professor Timothy Leary. Leary’s indiscriminate promotion of drugs in the
mid-1960s went hand in hand with the development of a new religion—the
League for Spiritual Discovery. Leary incorporated psychedelic drug use into a
pseudointellectual movement that aligned itself with developing inner freedoms.
Mixing religious philosophies with LSD-inspired mind travel, Leary campaigned
for inner peace through hallucinogens.11 Although he had many connections
with the emerging youth culture of the 1960s, he also attracted a significant
number of middle-class professionals to his drug-inspired philosophies. His
evangelizing efforts earned him notoriety as an LSD guru.
Other LSD advocates, such as the American author Ken Kesey, promoted
drug use among North American youth as a means of escaping convention.
During his summers as a college student in the 1950s, Kesey had volunteered at
a state psychiatric hospital, an experience that eventually inspired him to write
One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest (1962). His book, which became a theatrical
production and later an award-winning movie, told the lurid story of Randall
McMurphy. McMurphy (played by Jack Nicholson in the Oscar-winning film)
was a transfer from a state prison, a convicted rapist who was deemed to be (or
becoming) insane. In the state psychiatric facility he was treated with a variety
Introduction 5
carried severe criminal sentences. Medical research with the drug ground to a
halt. By the late 1960s and early 1970s, the image of LSD had become conflated
with danger, delinquency, and abuse. Media reports universally condemned
medical research with psychedelics as unethical and misguided.
Most of the literature to date investigating the history of LSD has focused on
the CIA experiments or the drug culture of the 1960s. These accounts have
reinforced an image of LSD as a dangerous substance. This path from usually
covert medical experimentation to counterculture revolution is the story that
generally unfolded in the mainstream media of the 1950s and ’60s. Several
newspapers put LSD on their front pages in 1963 when Harvard University dis-
missed psychologist Timothy Leary for engaging in quasi-recreational drug use
as part of his funded research. By 1966, the same papers reported that LSD
unleashed radicalism among youth. After its criminalization in 1968, LSD
seemed like it might fade into obscurity, but in the late 1970s and throughout
the 1980s it appeared again and again as the North American public learned
the details of CIA experiments and the ensuing legal battles. In the popular
mind, LSD connoted danger. The connections between LSD and Kesey, Leary,
or an agitated youth counterculture resonate in twentieth-century popular cul-
ture, and this powerful imagery has overshadowed the significance of the ear-
lier history of LSD in medical research.
Other drugs, such as opium, morphine, cocaine, and MDMA (methylenedi-
oxymethamphetamine), have migrated from a clinical setting to the street. And
drugs such as alcohol and marijuana have crossed back and forth across the
boundaries of medicine.12 Like LSD, these drugs were associated with par ticu-
lar groups of people—hippies, Chinese immigrants, black Americans—and
often the drug policies that subsequently criminalized these drugs reveal a dis-
comfort with that group rather than with the drug itself.13 Prozac, Paxil, Ritalin,
and lithium belong to a slightly different category of drugs whose histories are
intimately clinical but whose futures grow increasingly suspicious with news of
long-term side effects, a lucrative street market, and the unrelenting marketing
campaigns of pharmaceutical companies that raise questions about the under-
lying motivations for promoting their use.14 The medical profession is similarly
involved in determining acceptable drug use by defining addiction along with
safe and unsafe use; clinicians have struggled to define the terms of substance
abuse and its treatment.15 Another category of drugs includes ones such as tha-
lidomide: medical wonders turned nightmarish. Marketed primarily in Europe
and Canada, within a year its resultant birth defects, not to mention the vast
number of spontaneous abortions associated with it, alarmed governments, the
Introduction 7
medical community, and consumers, and set a precedent for developing strict
policies concerning drug trials. After thalidomide, drugs had to be tested with
specific therapeutic objectives for distinctive, identifiable disorders. In each of
these categories, the medical community has been involved, whether in the pro-
cess of discovery, experimentation, prescription, detoxification, or articulating
the side effects or dangers. LSD, as somewhat contemporaneous with thalido-
mide, serves as an important object for studying the relationships between po-
litical, medical, and popular conceptions of drugs and their associated harms
and risks.
During LSD’s transfer from the clinic to the campus, political and legal au-
thorities sought advice from medical experts before criminalizing the drug. In
several jurisdictions legal investigators deliberately privileged advice from med-
ical scientists who had not taken LSD. As a result, the medical researchers with
the most experience studying LSD were not directly involved in the decisions
concerning its subsequent control and regulation. Outspoken psychedelic re-
searchers and “gurus” warned policy makers that a misunderstanding of the
LSD epidemic would result if they were not consulted. Humphry Osmond, as
one of the leading authorities on psychedelics, expressed anxiety over trying to
maintain medical authority in the face of strong pressure from medical and po-
litical opposition. His personal investments in psychedelic drug research in
combination with his sympathy toward some countercultural ideas ultimately
led to his marginalization from the medical establishment.
The story of LSD involves a fascinating period in the history of medicine and
North American culture. I begin by focusing on one of the largest and most in-
fluential sets of LSD trials on the rural Canadian prairies. Weyburn residents
welcomed doctors to this underserved area. The newly elected social democratic
government also welcomed medical scientists and wanted to prove that a social-
ist region could support innovative medical research in the post-World War and
cold war periods. Location, therefore, influenced professional decisions; with
very few colleagues, psychiatrists practicing in Saskatchewan faced fewer dis-
senting opinions from fellow experts. The development and reception of psych-
edelic psychiatry took place in an intellectual environment that welcomed
medical experimentation.
Operating in a well-supported political environment, clinical researchers
began seeking professional support for their studies from psychopharmacologi-
cal investigators throughout North America. The historian Edward Shorter has
described this period in the history of psychiatry as the beginning of “the sec-
ond biological psychiatry,” after parting from it in the nineteenth century with
8 Psychedelic Psychiatry
the rise of Freudian theories. In other words, psychiatrists looked again to biol-
ogy for explaining and treating mental disorders rather than depending on talk-
ing therapies to treat the worried well. The psychopharmacologist David Healy
referred to the profound changes in treatment options arising out of this period
as a “therapeutic revolution.” The antipsychiatrist Thomas Szasz is more criti-
cal, referring to this decade as one that featured the introduction of the “thera-
peutic state,” contending that psychiatry gained even greater control over its
patients by creating chemical dependence.16 During the 1950s there were dra-
matic changes in mental health research and clinical drug experimentation
that contributed significantly to a new outlook on psychiatry, a medical spe-
cialty that became more and more interested in pharmacotherapies. The tri-
umph of drug therapies emerged as a symbol of the advancement of technology
and medical knowledge. This laid the groundwork for an insidious relationship
between psychiatry and commercial interests, which resulted in the develop-
ment of a multibillion dollar pharmaceutical industry that, arguably, stymied
the psychiatric profession in its ability to offer effective clinical alternatives to
psychopharmacology.17 Civil libertarians, antipsychiatrists, and others who in-
creasingly regarded psychiatry as a pseudoscience complained that these devel-
opments merely added psychopharmacological treatments to the arsenal of
mechanisms employed to maintain social control over individuals deemed ab-
normal or deviant.
Although LSD ultimately did not become a marketable pharmaceutical prod-
uct, its brief use in psychiatric treatments demonstrated an enthusiasm for
pharmacology in the 1950s. LSD differed from other, more commercially suc-
cessful drugs in that it promised to provide a single experience that would help
patients overcome their disorders, rather than simply control symptoms. The
psychedelic drug researchers in Saskatchewan deplored the increased use of
antipsychotic medications that offered patients a lifetime dependence on drugs
that controlled symptoms but never really addressed the root causes of the dis-
order. The therapeutic rationale for LSD consisted of a single intense experience
that its proponents believed could restore self- control to the patients or at the
very least offer personal insights into the disordered nature of their thinking,
feeling, and behaving. In short, psychedelic psychiatrists designed a therapy
that concentrated on empowering patients to play a more active role in their re-
covery, instead of passively accepting treatments doled out by psychiatrists. Far
from being simply another competitor in the growing pharmaceutical industry,
LSD threatened to undermine it.
Introduction 9
In October 1956 five white men joined a group of ten church members, in-
cluding American representatives from Montana. Their participation in the
peyote ceremony formally introduced some of the researchers to the ritualistic
and spiritual dimension that traditionally accompanied the psychedelic experi-
ence. Their participation in this ritual exposed deeply held views about race and
religion that became entangled in the subsequent debates over the legality of a
native religion that embraced drug use. Although their findings did not satisfy
federal government officials, their ceremonial introduction to peyotism high-
lighted a spiritual component in the psychedelic experience that had been rec-
ognized but not articulated in their scientific trials.
Their observance of the peyote ceremony publicly connected psychedelic re-
search with religion, but contemporaneous developments occurring in other
locations throughout North America also pointed out this relationship. As re-
search into LSD treatments for alcoholism began gathering momentum, Hoffer
and Osmond came into contact with other LSD enthusiasts—medical and non-
medical. A growing cadre of LSD experimenters in Saskatchewan, British Co-
lumbia, California, and New York gradually established a collegial network for
exchanging ideas, strategies for addressing various challenges, and even sup-
plies. Spearheaded by a particularly controversial figure then residing in British
Columbia, Al Hubbard, the “Johnny Appleseed of LSD,” some of the enthusiasts
decided to institutionalize their network and formed the Commission for the
Study of Creative Imagination.19
The commission provided a means for bringing scientific, medical, literary,
cultural, and religious interests together in a coordinated examination of drugs
such as LSD, mescaline, psilocybin, and other mind-altering substances collec-
tively referred to by the end of the 1950s as psychedelics. Their attempts to
consolidate efforts helped shield investigators from external criticism for a
while, but it also intensified the methodological and interpretive divisions over
how to best evaluate the drugs and for whom they should be tested. The split
seemed most pronounced over whether the drugs held medicinal or spiritual
properties. Some individuals tried to bridge this gap by articulating positions
on the spiritual dimension of contemporary pharmacological medicine. The
internal splits within the commission highlighted the state of the field at the
end of the 1950s and left psychedelic researchers poorly equipped to weather
the storm that lay ahead.
By the mid-1960s discussions about LSD had shifted from a medicoscien-
tific context to a social and cultural one concerned with the perils of drug abuse.
Public and medical discourse on LSD descended into a dichotomous debate
Introduction 11
Psychedelic Pioneers
minute quantities, could cause an individual to believe that he or she had be-
come psychotic. LSD immediately appealed to medical researchers as a drug
that might help explain the origins of mental disorders, particularly those in-
volving involuntary psychoses.
LSD appeared alongside a list of other chemical substances that attracted
significant attention from psychopharmacologists; in the 1950s the introduc-
tion of chemical therapies in psychiatry seemed capable of reforming the disci-
pline and radically transforming the experience of mental illness. One of North
America’s early psychopharmacologists, Thomas Ban, commented that in the
1950s, drug research (psychopharmacology) into mental disorders was respon-
sible for “dragging psychiatry into the modern world.” Psychopharmacological
research at this time received two Nobel Prizes: one was awarded to Daniel
Bovet for research on antihistamines and another to James Black for his identi-
fication of histamine receptors. In fact, in an investigation of the history of
psychopharmacology, psychiatrist David Healy argues that nearly all of the anti-
depressants, including selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (SSRIs), and the
antipsychotics were a result of the drug research that took place during that de-
cade.3 These contemporaneous developments inspired confidence in the medi-
cal contention that psychopharmacological treatments would not only modernize
psychiatry but would also pave the way for dramatic reforms in mental health
care in the post–World War II period.
In 1952 the advent of antipsychotics (drugs that ameliorate the incidence or
severity of psychotic episodes) began with French surgeon Henri Laborit’s dis-
covery of chlorpromazine.4 Over the next three decades this drug, known by the
trade names Thorazine and Largactil, seemed largely responsible for emptying
asylums throughout North America and Europe. Chlorpromazine purportedly
reduced positive psychiatric symptoms in patients in a manner that helped im-
prove the potential for care in the community, or gave way to the optimistic be-
lief that patients could lead meaningful lives outside the institution.5 The
subsequent dismantling of psychiatric institutions had a revolutionary effect on
mental health care. Although chlorpromazine was not the only reason for dis-
mantling the asylum, the increased reliance on drugs in psychiatry demon-
strated the enormous potential for drugs to change the course of mental health
care policy and the important role that they would play in the future of
psychiatry.6
Experimentation with LSD began in earnest in the 1950s in North America
and throughout Europe alongside studies with antidepressants and antipsy-
chotics, in a general climate of optimism that drug research, including that
Psychedelic Pioneers 15
with LSD, would improve psychiatry. Some LSD trials involved the same inves-
tigators who had participated in experiments with chlorpromazine.7 LSD stud-
ies began in an environment where there was considerable medical faith that
biochemistry would provide the discrete tools that would eventually unlock the
mysteries of the mind. The results of LSD trials were published in major medi-
cal journals and contributed to mainstream psychiatry. By 1951, more than one
hundred articles on LSD had appeared in medical publications. By 1961, the
number had increased to over one thousand. While the majority of articles were
published in English, studies also appeared in Japanese, German, Polish, Dan-
ish, Dutch, French, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, Hungarian, Russian, Swed-
ish, and Bulgarian.
Access to LSD attracted medical researchers with a variety of approaches to
experimentation. Some tested its physiological effects on animals; others’ stud-
ies involved human subjects who could then report on the drug’s capacity to
bring the unconscious to the conscious; still others explored the drug’s intimate
reaction through self- experimentation. Given its range of applications, LSD ap-
pealed to medical researchers across theoretical approaches. For psychoana-
lysts, the drug released hitherto suppressed memories; for psychotherapists, it
brought patients to new levels of self-awareness; and for psychopharmacolo-
gists, LSD reactions supported their contentions that mental disorders had
chemical origins. For approximately fifteen years medical research with LSD
proceeded with relatively few interruptions.8
much of the area but miraculously leaving the hospital more or less intact. For
the next several months he and a few medical school colleagues ran a makeshift
morgue. Several years later, he recalled the profound influence this experience
had upon him: “as a Socialist . . . it wasn’t enough to say this is the inevitable
process of history.” He qualified for medicine in July 1942, but his plans were
again interrupted by the war when he was called to military ser vice in Novem-
ber that same year.10
He joined the Royal Navy and spent Christmas 1942 at the barracks in Ports-
mouth. Later, serving on a destroyer that moved back and forth across the At-
lantic Ocean as German submarines fired torpedoes at them, Osmond struggled
to provide the ship’s crew medical assistance with limited practical experience
and meager medical supplies. While at sea, he also learned that the psychiatric
Psychedelic Pioneers 17
emergencies were often quite severe and potentially more damaging than the
physical crises.11 Osmond met Surgeon Captain Desmond Curran, head of psy-
chiatry in the British navy, who helped him nurture his interest in psychiatry,
while his medical colleagues chastised him for abandoning what could have
been a promising career in surgery.12
After the war, Osmond was appointed senior registrar at the psychiatric
unit at St. George’s Hospital in London. There he worked closely with John
Smythies and cultivated a keen interest in chemically induced reactions in
the human body. Smythies discovered that the topic had attracted interest in
the late nineteenth century from people such as William James, Havelock
Ellis, and S. Weir Mitchell, but that enthusiasm for studies of hallucinations
had trailed off at the turn of the century. He then happened upon another
collection of articles in the medical literature from the 1920s and 1930s by
authors including Karl Beringer, Alexander Rouhier, and Heinrich Klüver.13
Again, he found that clinical interest in hallucinations eventually disap-
peared.14 Klüver’s book Mescal piqued Smythies’s curiosity with a description
of a chemically induced hallucination, using the active ingredient in the pe-
yote cactus (mescaline) traditionally used in some Native American and Mex-
ican spiritual ceremonies.15 Smythies showed the results of his study to some
colleagues, including Humphry Osmond. Osmond immediately wanted to
learn more about the relationship between the mescaline reaction and hallu-
cinations. After consulting with a medical student, Julian Redmill, and an
organic chemist, John Harley-Mason, Osmond and Smythies determined
that mescaline had a chemical makeup that was very similar to adrenaline.
They postulated that adrenaline might be metabolized in some people in a
manner that produces a mescaline-like substance, a substance that, in turn,
caused hallucinations.16
With the aid of John Harley-Mason, they began examining the chemical
properties of mescaline. Nearly two years of research led them to conclude that
mescaline produced reactions in volunteers that resembled the symptoms of
schizophrenia, a chronic “disease marked by disordered thinking, hallucina-
tions, social withdrawal, and, in severe cases, a deterioration in the capacity to
lead a rewarding life.”17 These findings led to their theory that schizophrenia
resulted from a biochemical imbalance in the sufferer. They believed that the
imbalance might be caused by a dysfunction in the process of metabolizing
adrenaline, which in turn created a new substance that chemically resembled
mescaline.18 This tantalizing hypothesis captivated Osmond’s interests for the
next two decades.
18 Psychedelic Psychiatry
Smythies and Osmond published the first known biochemical theory of the
archetypal psychotic disorder schizophrenia. In their original publication on
the subject, they argued that schizophrenia was caused by a metabolic failure,
producing an as-yet-undiscovered substance. They suggested that the unknown
substance (M-substance) resembled mescaline. Although mescaline had been
studied medically and had been used in religious ceremonies, Osmond and
Smythies contended that the possible similarities between mescaline reactions
and schizophrenic psychosis had never been explored scientifically. After inves-
tigating the drug and its effects on themselves, they identified patterns of bio-
chemical dysfunction in the adrenaline system. They contended that this new
finding shed light on the causation and manifestation of schizophrenia.19
Contemporary medical research on mental illness, Osmond lamented, had
been misguided by prevailing scientific theories. For example, Eugene Bleuler’s
popular theory of schizophrenia concentrated on interpretations of problems
affecting the psyche.20 According to Osmond, this perspective led clinicians
astray by focusing on psychological symptoms alone without investigating un-
derlying biochemical or metabolic symptoms. In contrast, other clinicians had
developed theories after examining only physiological symptoms. As a result,
they applied somatic treatments, such as psychosurgery, lobotomies, or electro-
convulsive therapy (ECT), with little concern for the psychological component
of mental illness. Osmond and Smythies felt that the efficacy of electroconvul-
sive therapy (shock treatments) had “received some measure of general ap-
proval, but even here there is no agreement as to how it works and even some
uncertainty about whether it works.” Smythies and Osmond felt that a more
satisfying and comprehensive theory of schizophrenia that took account of both
biochemical and psychological factors had to prevail before justifying additional
investments in medical technology. The absence of theoretical approaches, they
complained, meant that mental health therapies relied on chance as much as
science.21
Early in 1951, Smythies and Osmond embarked on a research program that
investigated the biochemical and psychological basis of schizophrenia. First,
they devised a research protocol based on human experimentation with mesca-
line and LSD. Their approach relied on “start[ing] with the signs and symptoms
and natural history of schizophrenia and ask[ing] ourselves how these could be
produced, refusing to be diverted by the existing schools of thought.” They en-
visioned a two-part program. First they would identify the biochemical and
metabolic processes; second they would collect experiences from subjects under
the influence of mescaline or LSD.22
Psychedelic Pioneers 19
They quickly realized, however, that their colleagues at St. George’s Hospital
were uninterested in supporting this research program.23 Osmond began look-
ing elsewhere for opportunities to develop the hypothesis. After responding to
an advertisement in Lancet, he was invited by the government of Saskatchewan
to assume a position in Weyburn. He and his family moved from London, En-
gland, to Weyburn, Saskatchewan, in October 1951.
N O RT H W E ST TERRITO RIES
N
MA NI TO BA
CANADA
S A S K AT C H E WA N
North Battleford
University of Saskatchewan,
Saskatoon
Weyburn
0 300 km
U N I TED STATES
Thomas “Tommy” C. Douglas, ca. 1944. Douglas was Saskatchewan’s premier from
1944 to 1961. Under his administration, the attention given to health care reforms
attracted medical researchers to the region. Photo no. R-A5739-2. Courtesy of the
Saskatchewan Archives Board.
throughout the 1930s followed by concentrated spending on the war effort dur-
ing the first half of the 1940s.
After World War II several regions across North America faced increases in
patient populations. In 1950, the National Department of Health and Welfare in
Canada reported that nearly sixty thousand people resided in mental hospitals
across the country. This figure represented an increase of almost four thousand
patients from the previous year and reflected a growing trend over the last de-
cade. In addition to the increased need for institutional space, the costs of main-
taining patients within institutions also rose.31 Predictions showed no signs of
a reversal; therefore, political and clinical attention began focusing on develop-
ing sustainable solutions that did not involve dependence on expensive,
22 Psychedelic Psychiatry
Saskatchewan Mental Hospital, Weyburn. Opened in 1921, this was the second mental
health hospital in Saskatchewan. By the end of World War II both Saskatchewan hospitals
were overcrowded. Courtesy of the Soo Line Historical Museum Archives.
was almost always preferable to long stays in a hospital. Mental health ser vices,
according to Douglas, should be provided in a comprehensive manner that em-
phasized preventative medicine and involved professional collaboration in the
community. His strategy for accomplishing this objective relied on a combina-
tion of increasing psychiatric research and initiating an aggressive public edu-
cation campaign. Taking cues from a well-known sympathizer of socialized
medicine, Johns Hopkins’s professor in the history of medicine Henry E. Siger-
ist, Douglas proposed that “steps should be taken . . . to get at these people be-
fore they get to hospital; to provide for early diagnosis and treatment; to get the
psychoneurotic and borderline cases in the early stages; to have people take a
new attitude to mental disease; to get the public to know that there is no more
disgrace for one member of the family to get mentally ill than there is for any
other member of the family to [get] pneumonia.”32 This focus on noninstitu-
tional medical intervention set the agenda for mental health reforms in the
province that emphasized innovative medical research and new conceptualiza-
tions of mental illnesses.
In an effort to recast the province as an exciting, avant-garde, even cosmo-
politan, place to be, Douglas and his government appealed to medical research-
ers with promises of research grants, professional autonomy, and an opportunity
to participate in the formation of North America’s first program of socialized
medicine. The attention given to health care reforms transformed the region
into an attractive destination for medical researchers. The erosion of the re-
gion’s professional class during the Depression had created a professional vac-
uum. Conditions on the prairies were among the most severe in North America,
and local residents readily embraced recommendations for new and replenished
ser vices in communities that had struggled to retain professionals during the
decade-long Depression. The CCF government recruited doctors and medical
researchers to fill senior positions in the rapidly expanding provincial civil ser-
vice. A delicate and complicated set of historical and psychological factors gave
rise to a new vision for the region that, above all, created opportunities for
experimentation.
For some people, Saskatchewan became an ideological magnet, attracting
people from around the world who hoped to participate in the various experi-
ments taking place. During the Depression and the Second World War, the pop-
ulation of the province had decreased by nearly 100,000 residents; that population
had nearly been recouped by the early 1960s.33 Medical and mental health inves-
tigators were among those drawn to the province. Robert Sommer, for example,
came to Weyburn in 1957. Sommer was the first research psychologist in the
24 Psychedelic Psychiatry
area. He and his family, who drove from Kansas to Saskatchewan in their Volvo,
looked forward to living in the “socially progressive” region. Sommer later
claimed that the sparse professional population reduced the stifling influence of
bureaucracy and tradition. He said there was “a professional freedom for experi-
mentation not found elsewhere.” Morgan White, a colleague in Winnipeg, sug-
gested that “Saskatchewan has the reputation for being a place where things
happen. It has attracted within its borders a group of vigorous, independent,
young psychologists whose style of work may set the pattern for the rest of Can-
ada.” Rhodes scholar Allen Blakeney, who in 1944 was a Dalhousie law student,
moved to Regina after completing his law degree because he “wanted to be part
of the action.”34 The region captivated him, and in 1971 he became premier of the
province.
The province appealed to people for myriad reasons. One woman recalled
that upon completing high school in British Columbia she set her sights on
Saskatchewan. She had heard that the government would pay tuition for women
who wanted to go to nursing school. Sold on this idea, she moved from Vancou-
ver to Weyburn, where she started nursing school. She remembered this as one
of the “most exciting times in her life”; not only did she leave home for the first
time but she met people from all over the world who brought with them their
ideas, energy, and cosmopolitan influences. In Weyburn she was introduced to
jazz.35
Contrasted with the province’s postwar appeal were grim reminders of
the previous de cade that made the province unappealing to anyone seeking
an abundance of modern amenities or an urban environment. For many peo-
ple, Saskatchewan remained a backwoods, rural region, disagreeable to well-
established professional organizations or high culture traditions.36 Until the
late 1950s, much of the province had only limited access to electricity and in
many areas indoor plumbing was a luxury. Saskatchewan’s economy, despite
the many changes on the political horizon, was dominated by agriculture. The
development of the province’s professional class, even in urban areas, still paled
in comparison with other regions in the country.
Nonetheless, the optimism and political stability generated by five consec-
utive CCF victories made Saskatchewan an attractive destination for people
interested in participating in a culture of experimentation. The journalist
Ross Crockford remarked: “It was an age of bold experiments. . . . The pio-
neering spirit went beyond art and Medicare, though; it dared to explore the
brain, the psyche and dimensions that passeth all understanding. In the late
1950s, Saskatchewan was home to the largest LSD experiments in the world.”37
Psychedelic Pioneers 25
In the 1940s the province busied itself establishing the groundwork for re-
forms that would eventually make Saskatchewan a world leader in psychiatric
experimentation.
Psychiatric Services
In November 1946, Premier Douglas appointed a commissioner of mental
health ser vices who also acted as chief psychiatrist for the province. D. G.
(Griff) McKerracher came to Saskatchewan from the Ontario Health Depart-
ment following his ser vice as a medical doctor with the Canadian army during
the Second World War. McKerracher seized upon the opportunity to effect
changes in psychiatric ser vices.38
Part of McKerracher’s vision for psychiatric ser vices in Saskatchewan in-
volved recruiting psychiatrists to the region and facilitating the development of
an active research program. He felt the criteria for reaching this objective in
Saskatchewan’s postwar political climate had to focus on scientific research ini-
tiatives. One of his colleagues recalled McKerracher complaining that “psychia-
try suffered from being alienated from medicine. Medicine tended to be
something you could see through a microscope and you can’t see anything in
psychiatry through a microscope. You can’t lay hands on it; it is all ideas.” The
absence of empirical measures in psychiatry made it a more abstract medical
subject, which McKerracher felt dissuaded students from pursuing careers in
psychiatry and contributed to a lack of trained personnel in the field. McKer-
racher strongly urged a reconceptualization of mental health as an area indis-
tinguishable from general medicine, meaning that its treatment would take
place in a general hospital and general practitioners would play a more active
role in mental health care. Rather than providing health care in separate institu-
tions, which reinforced professional divisions, psychiatric medicine should
form an integral part of modern medicine, similar to many other medical sub-
specialities. Accomplishing this goal required a change in professional and lay
attitudes as well as the integration of appropriate care facilities into the general
health system.39
McKerracher was particularly committed to merging mental and physical
health care systems because of his underlying belief that attitudes toward
mental illnesses were too often shaped by misleading stereotypes. Psychiatric
illnesses carried significant social stigmas based on misconceptions that dis-
ordered behaviors resulted from weak characters or a dysfunctional upbring-
ing. 40 The shortage of professionals in combination with social stigmatization
26 Psychedelic Psychiatry
meant that mental health care had often languished as a medical specialty
and remained a low priority for public spending. The enticement of major
health care reforms in the province, Douglas’s personal interest in mental
health, McKerracher’s commitment to administrative reforms, and the prom-
ise of new psychiatric research initiatives brought renewed optimism to the
field. McKerracher took advantage of this opportunity and began directing a
program of research in psychiatric ser vices that nurtured novel perspectives
in mental health. 41
Psychedelic Pioneers
Osmond arrived in Saskatchewan during this period of unbounded opti-
mism; he wasted no time launching his research anew from his position as
clinical director of the Saskatchewan Mental Hospital. Within a week of his ar-
rival, he met Abram Hoffer. The two men quickly established a pattern of regu-
lar correspondence that endured for the next forty years. John Smythies
continued to participate in the unfolding biochemical research and mescaline
experiments throughout the next two decades but spent only a short time in
Saskatchewan.42
Hoffer, like Osmond, was born in 1917, but he grew up in a small farming
community in Saskatchewan named after his father, Israel Hoffer.43 He also
took a different path into medicine. Abram Hoffer graduated from the provin-
cial university in Saskatoon with a bachelor of sciences degree in agricultural
chemistry in 1937. Three years later he completed a master’s degree in agricul-
ture and received an award allowing him to spend a year at the University of
Minnesota conducting research on cereal chemistry. Enamored with this sub-
ject, he continued in this field, graduating in 1944 with a PhD in agriculture.
His doctoral research had introduced him to the study of vitamins, particularly
vitamin B, and their effects on the human body. Having developed a strong
background in agricultural chemistry, Hoffer began studying biochemistry as
it pertained to medicine. In 1949, he completed his medical degree at the Uni-
versity of Toronto, where he had developed a par ticular interest in psychiatry.
On July 1, 1950, Hoffer was hired by the Saskatchewan Department of Public
Health to establish a research program in psychiatry for the province.44
Hoffer and Osmond soon joined forces and began collaborating on their mu-
tual research interests in biochemical experimentation. Osmond’s interest in
mescaline led him to LSD, which he discovered produced similar reactions to
those observed with mescaline. But LSD was a much more powerful drug. Early
Psychedelic Pioneers 27
Abram Hoffer. Hoffer earned a doctorate in agriculture before completing his medical
degree in 1949. He and Osmond collaborated on research with the Psychiatric Ser vices
Branch in Saskatchewan. Courtesy of Abram Hoffer.
trials indicated that the drug might have the potential to help advance a theory
of mental illness that promoted a biochemical explanation. Hoffer, Smythies,
and Osmond explained mental illness as a manifestation of metabolic dysfunc-
tion. If mental illness was in fact a biochemical entity, it could be studied (and
ultimately treated) using modern medical technology. And like physical ill-
nesses, mental illness might ultimately and literally be observable under a
microscope.
The research possibilities generated by Hoffer and Osmond’s theories at-
tracted other people to the province, where they eagerly contributed to the expan-
sion of biochemical studies. Osmond injected a flare of adventure and
cosmopolitanism into the small rural community and fascinated others with his
“bright ideas.”45 Hoffer’s superior administration skills helped secure research
28 Psychedelic Psychiatry
grants for their work. In addition, Hoffer’s association with the provincial uni-
versity gave him regular access to medical students for teaching and research
purposes. As clinical investigations progressed, many believed that studies with
LSD offered demonstrable proof of the biochemical nature of mental illnesses
and supported the assertion that mental health care should be equal to that avail-
able for physical ailments. The stimulation of theories about mental health capti-
vated interests in this region that was politically committed to reshaping attitudes
toward health and its care. Support for LSD experimentation became part of a
regional commitment to health care reforms.
Throughout the process of establishing medical research in the province,
Premier Douglas reinforced the notion that co- operation and commitment to a
new publicly funded health care system was the linchpin that would reform the
province. Conscripting support at all levels of government, Douglas assured the
people of Saskatchewan that major health care reforms would chart a new fu-
ture for the region: “We are on the vanguard of public health on this continent,
because we have a health conscious people who regard health as something be-
yond price, who are convinced that health is a public utility and the right of
every individual in the nation.”46 Douglas campaigned for a universal health
care plan, one that provided access for all citizens and removed dependence on
insurers. Part of realizing this objective involved investing in medical
research.
Not everyone expressed enthusiasm for the government attention directed
toward drug experimentation. Some of Hoffer and Osmond’s colleagues felt
that this course of research received too much support and that, as a result,
other areas of study were neglected.47 The concentration on an experimental
theory went against mainstream thinking in psychiatry and risked having the
province endorse fruitless research endeavors.48 LSD experimentation nonethe-
less appealed to some psychiatrists and government officials as a legitimate
scientific endeavor that could lead to major breakthroughs in mental health
treatments.
Hoffer and Osmond used their LSD experiments to bolster a biochemical
theory of mental illness, while psychiatrists in other regions employed LSD for
different theoretical aims. They were not the only psychiatrists experimenting
with this drug during the 1950s, but their work benefited from the local support
they received. The political and cultural encouragement allowed them to inves-
tigate LSD with sustained attention. Because their experiments formed part of
the contemporaneous health care reforms, their research also had immediate
practical applications. Their close relationship with the provincial government
Psychedelic Pioneers 29
provided opportunities to test their theories that did not exist elsewhere. They
were internationally recognized as leaders within the field.
In 1955, Abram Hoffer boasted that Saskatchewan offered optimal condi-
tions for scientific research. He attributed this situation to a mixture of govern-
ment support and professional liberty. He claimed that researchers there
enjoyed an “unusually fertile climate for research—not in terms of temperature
or snow or wind, though Saskatchewan is prodigal with these—but a climate of
freedom.” He added that the “unique” environment in Saskatchewan would
undoubtedly make the province a world leader in medical research through its
capacity to attract top scientists and explore fresh ideas. The blend of political
and medical enthusiasm for innovation in post–World War II Saskatchewan at-
tracted professionals to the region and contributed to its reputation as an inter-
national leader in LSD studies.49
Saskatchewan in the 1950s also became an important laboratory for investi-
gating new public policies and medical ideas. People such as Osmond and Hof-
fer took advantage of these conditions and launched a research program that
challenged existing psychiatric and psychoanalytic explanations for mental dis-
orders. With professional and political support, they managed to weave their
research program into the political reforms in the region. As the program un-
folded, they attracted attention from outside the province, which initially fueled
their research agenda.
The ideological context shaped the research program in Saskatchewan as
well as its local reception. But their research was not inconsistent with broader
developments in the field of mental health. The increasing use of drugs in psy-
chiatry had a revolutionary influence on mental health treatments in the second
half of the twentieth century, and this trend relied, to a large extent, on changes
in the theory and practice of psychiatry. Psychiatric practice at midcentury has
often been described as existing at a crossroads: institutionally based practi-
tioners relied on somatic or bodily interventions that seemed outdated or prob-
lematic; community-based psychoanalysts used approaches that lacked a
biological foundation and did not seem to work, particularly with severe men-
tal illnesses. The LSD therapies developed in Saskatchewan did not fit neatly
into either category but instead reflected aspects of both approaches. This ap-
proach was infused with new ideas inspired by what became known as the
psychedelic experience.50
Psychedelic therapies relied both on a biochemical model of mental illness
and the scientific observation of a subjective experience. By combining these
two elements in one practice, Hoffer and Osmond presented their approach as a
30 Psychedelic Psychiatry
new theory that merged philosophical and psychological traditions with bio-
medical advances. They distinguished themselves from the psychoanalysts,
whom they regarded as dogmatic therapists largely concerned with treating
middle- class patients, or the worried well. They also differed from psychophar-
macologists, who they felt were equally obsessed with the collection of data
without consideration for the deeper meanings of personal experience. Armed
with their own delicate mixture of biomedical and philosophical influences,
Hoffer and Osmond promoted an alternative to psychopharmacology and psy-
choanalysis with a method that incorporated the use of psychedelics as a means
for bridging some of the theoretical distance between these two models.
Psychiatry had a long tradition of using drugs, but during the postwar pe-
riod the number of psychopharmacological agents increased substantially.51
Somatic treatments, or bodily therapies, such as malaria, insulin- coma, and
electroconvulsive therapy, largely dominated North American psychiatry before
the Second World War; their declining use in the 1950s corresponded with an
increase in psychopharmacological treatments.52 Lobotomies and shock thera-
pies increasingly provoked concerns over the ethical implications of their use
and made patients, and some psychiatrists, apprehensive about the growing
margin of risk associated with invasive and irreversible treatments.53 The fail-
ure of somatic therapies when compared with psychopharmacological treat-
ments suggests that not only the technology and theories were altered in the
postwar period but also the cultural climate surrounding the reception of psy-
chiatric medicine. In the public mind, somatic therapies, particularly ECT and
lobotomies, were dangerous, irreversible, and painful. Drugs, which ostensibly
offered a safer and easier form of treatment, were more readily accepted by pa-
tients and their families.
Psychopharmacology, which eclipsed somatic therapies at midcentury, suc-
ceeded in overtaking psychoanalysis in the second half of the twentieth century.
The introduction of drugs did not initially threaten to overhaul psychoanalysis.
For example, psychoanalysts justified the use of some drugs that helped patients
ease into and out of therapy sessions, whether the drugs were tranquilizers, anti-
depressants, or even psychedelics. Psychoanalysts believed these substances as-
sisted in speeding up the critical development of the doctor-patient relationship
necessary for therapeutic breakthroughs. As drug treatments relied more on bio-
logical theories of mental disorder, the belief that the illness derived from an uni-
dentified brain lesion or neurochemical disruption challenged psychoanalytical
theories. Gradually, the increased dependence on drug treatments in psychiatry
Psychedelic Pioneers 31
Simulating Psychoses
“12.01 p.m. What a Madman Saw in Folds of a Towel: Dr. Osmond spread a towel on
Katz’ eyes and promised ‘a pleasant surprise.’ Instantly, he was transported to a temple
at the gates of paradise, in which paraded tiny Oriental empresses in gowns studded
with bright gems.” From “My Twelve Hours as a Madman,” by Sidney Katz, Maclean’s,
October 1953. Photograph by Mike Kesterton; used with permission.
Exploring the Variety of Random
Documents with Different Content
Still narrower grew the passage. Some of the parts we had passed
through were already closed. The wind, fortunately, held fair, and
though it contributed to drive the ice faster in on us, it yet favored
our escape. The ship flew through the water at a great rate, heeling
over to her ports, but though at times it seemed as if the masts
would go over the sides, still the captain held on. A minute's delay
might prove our destruction.
Every one held their breaths, as the width of the passage decreased,
though we had but a short distance more to make good before we
should be free.
I must confess that all the time I did not myself feel any sense of
fear. I thought it was a danger more to be apprehended for others
than for myself. At length a shout from the deck reached my ears,
and looking round, I saw that we were on the outside of the floe.
We were just in time, for, the instant after, the ice met, and the
passage through which we had come, was completely closed up.
The order was now given, to keep the helm up, and to square away
the yards, and with a flowing sheet we ran down the edge of the ice
for upward of three miles, before we were clear of it.
Only then did people begin to inquire what had become of the ship
we had lately seen. I gave my account, but few expressed any great
commiseration for the fate of those who were lost. Our captain had
had enough of ice, so he steered a course to get as fast as possible
into more southern latitudes.
THE DOG AND DEER OF THE ARMY.
Many of the citizens of Edinburgh will remember a beautiful deer
which, many years ago, accompanied the Forty-second Highlanders,
and how thousands in Princes-street were wont to admire the stately
step, the proud and haughty toss of the antlers, and the mild, and
we may almost say benignant eye of this singularly-placed animal.
Few persons, however, thought of inquiring into the history of this
denizen of the hills, or how it came to pass that an animal naturally
shy to an extraordinary degree, should have been so tamed as to
take evident delight in military array, and the martial music of a
Highland regiment. Still fewer, immersed in their city life, were
acquainted with the amazing swiftness, the keen scent, and the
daring bravery of the stag; whose qualities, indeed, might be taken
as a type of those of the distinguished regiment to which it became
attached. The French could abide the charge of British cavalry; they
had some sort of understanding of such a mode of warfare; indeed,
to do them justice, they were both skillful and brave in the use and
knowledge of arms. But the deadly charge of the Highlanders was a
puzzler both to their science and courage, and they could by no
effort face the forests of cold steel—the bristling bayonets of the
kilted clans. Among these regiments none suffered more—excepting,
perhaps, the Ninety-Second—than the regiment which afterward
adopted the deer as a living memorial of their mountain fastnesses;
and a dog likewise, which became attached to, and for years
accompanied the same regiment, may be supposed to symbol the
fidelity so strikingly characteristic of the Highlanders.
Both the animals adopted by the regiment made their appearance in
the ranks about the year 1832, at St. Ema, in Malta. The deer was
presented by a friend of one of the officers, and the dog belonged
originally to an officer of the navy, who happened to dine at the
mess. The latter animal, from that very night, formed a strong
attachment for the officers and men of the Forty-second; no
commands or enticements could induce him to quit the corporate
object of his affection, and his master at length, yielding to a
determination he could not conquer, presented the animal, which
was of the noble Newfoundland breed, to the regiment. The
attachment very soon became mutual, and thereafter the dog would
follow no one who did not wear the uniform and belong to the corps.
The men subscribed a trifle each, with which a handsome collar was
provided for their friend, inscribed "Regimental Dog, Forty-second
Royal Highlanders." They gave him the name of "Peter," and it was a
strange and notable day in the calendar of the soldiers when Peter
and the deer, who were strongly attached to each other, did not
appear on parade. Peter, it may be supposed, was a great frequenter
of the cook-house, where a luxurious bone, together with a pat on
the head, and a word or two of recognition, was his daily dole from
the cooks—with one exception. When this churlish person officiated,
Peter was frequently obliged to retire minus his rations, and
sometimes even with blows instead—a kind of treatment which he
could by no means reconcile with the respect due to him as the
faithful adherent of so distinguished a corps. At any time when Peter
happened to meet the delinquent, he was seen just to give a look
over his head and a wag with his tail, and walk off, as much as to
say, "I have a crow to pluck with you."
By-and-by the season of bathing parades came round, and he used
to accompany the soldiers in the mornings in such recreations, and
was generally the first to take the water, and the last to leave it; he
wished to see all safe. He knew his own power in this element, as
well as his enemy's power out of it; and it was with a savage joy he
saw one day the churlish cook trust himself to the waves. Peter
instantly swam toward him, and pulled him down under the water,
and would doubtless have drowned him, had not some of the
soldiers come to the rescue. A still more curious exercise of his
instinct is related of his residence at Fort Neuf in Malta, which is
situated to the north of Corfu, and the entrance to which is a
subterranean passage of considerable length. Beyond the mouth of
this cavern Peter was in the habit of ranging to the distance of
thirty-two feet, and as the hour of recall approached, would there sit
with eyes intent and ears erect waiting the return of the soldiers.
When the trumpet sounded, he showed evidences of some
excitement and anxiety; and at the last note went at once to the
right-about, and, as fast as his legs could carry him, made for the
entrance, and was in a few seconds in the interior of the fort. The
reason he went no farther than the thirty-two feet was apparently a
consciousness that he had no pass, without which the men, he
observed, were not permitted to exceed the boundary! That Peter
actually understood this regulation was firmly believed both by the
non-commissioned officers and soldiers.
The police at Malta, especially at Corfu, are very particular with
respect to dogs in warm weather. They may be seen almost daily
going about with carts, on which are set up wooden screens
garnished with hooks, such as butchers use for suspending meat;
and it is no uncommon thing to see from nine to a dozen canine
corpses suspended from these hooks. Peter, it may be imagined, had
a great horror of this ghastly show; and indeed he made many
narrow escapes from the dog-hangman. The regimental collar,
however, was put on him, and every precaution used by the men to
prevent his being destroyed. He was still allowed to go at large, but
was always observed to look with a suspicious and uneasy eye at the
death-cart.
Both the dog and the deer preferred to abide by the head of the
regiment, in and out of quarters. They always remained with the
band. The men composing the band have generally quarters apart
from the other soldiers, this being more convenient for their musical
studies and practice. Peter, although he would follow any of the
soldiers in their Highland dress out of doors, generally preferred the
quarters of the band; and should one-half or a part of the regiment
be stationed at one place, and the other at another, whenever they
separated on the road to their respective quarters, Peter would give
a wistful look from one to the other, but invariably follow the party
which was accompanied by the band. The same was the case with
the stag. He likewise took up his quarters with the band, and
followed closely behind them on their march. This individual was in
the habit of going into the rooms of his friends for a biscuit, of which
he was very fond; but if the article had received the contamination
of the men's breath, he would at once reject it. Experiments were
tried by concealing the biscuit that had been breathed upon, and
then presenting it as a fresh one; but the instinct of the deer was
not to be deceived. Latterly, this animal became extremely irritable,
and if a stranger attempted to pass between the band and the main
body of the regiment, he attacked the offender with his antlers. The
combativeness of Peter was mingled in a remarkable manner with
prudence. Being once attacked by a mastiff of greatly superior size
and strength, he fled for upward of a mile before his enemy, till he
came to his own ground at the entrance of the fort; he then turned
to bay, and gave his adversary effectual battle.
One day in 1834, while the deer was grazing and eating herbs on
the top of Fort Neuf, situated to the north of Corfu, a cat in the
vicinity, startled perhaps by the appearance of the animal, bristled
up as puss does to a dog. On this slight alarm the deer was seized
with a sudden panic, and with one bound sprung over the precipice
—a height of two hundred feet—and was killed on the spot. It was
remarkable that its friend the dog, although not immediately on the
spot, rushed to the battlements instantly, and barked and yelled
most piteously. The death of Peter, which occurred in 1837, was also
of a tragical kind. He chanced to snarl at an officer (who had ill-used
him previously) on his entrance into Edinburgh Castle, of which the
two-legged creature took advantage, and ordered him to be shot.
This was accordingly done; and so poor Peter, in the inexorable
course of military law, fell by the arms of the men who had so long
been his kind comrades, and who continue to lament him to this
hour.
Monthly Record of Current Events.
POLITICAL AND GENERAL NEWS.
THE UNITED STATES.
MEXICO.
Making a total of 404 armed vessels, with 17,023 guns. To these, the
Calendar adds the names of 74 yachts, hulks, quarter-service
vessels, etc.; 125 steamers, and 21 steam-packets, making 614
vessels of every description. The British Almanac for 1851, probably
a more reliable authority, gives the whole number, on July 30, 1849,
as 339 sailing vessels, 161 steamers of all classes, besides 47
steamers employed under contract as packets, and capable of being
converted, in case of need, into vessels of war.
The Republic of France covers an area of 204,825 square miles, and
its population, as given in the Moniteur, February, 1847, was
35,400,486; besides which, the French colonies have about
1,000,000 inhabitants. The Constitution of the Republic was voted by
the National Assembly at its sitting, November 4, 1848. The
Introduction recites that France constitutes herself a Republic, and
that her object in so doing is a more free advance in progress and
civilization. The Constitution consists of twelve chapters, containing
116 articles, as follows: I. The sovereignty is in the body of citizens.
II. The rights of citizens are guaranteed by the Constitution. III. Of
public powers. IV. Of the Legislative power. The representatives of
the people to be 750 (since increased to 900), elected for three
years, by direct and universal suffrage, by secret ballot. All
Frenchmen of the age of 21 years to be electors, and to be eligible
to office at 25 years. This article is, in effect, modified by a
subsequent law, passed May 31, 1850, by which the electoral lists
are to comprehend all Frenchmen who have completed their 21st
year, enjoy civil and political rights, and have resided in the
commune, or canton, for a period of not less than three years; the
law embraces, moreover, many further restrictions, which greatly
limit the right of suffrage. V. The executive power is vested in the
President, elected for four years, by an absolute majority, by secret
ballot; he is not eligible for re-election until after an interval of four
years. VI. The Council of State consists of 40 members, elected for
six years, by the National Assembly, who are to be consulted in
certain prescribed cases; but government is not obliged to consult
the Council respecting the budget, the state of the army, or the
ratification of treaties. The Vice-President of the Republic is the
President of the Council; he is chosen by the National Assembly from
three candidates proposed by the President. VII. Of the domestic
administration. VIII. Of judicial powers. IX. Of the public forces. X.
Of the Legion of Honor, Algiers, and the colonies. XI. Of the revision
of the Constitution, in case the National Assembly in the last year of
its term shall vote any modification to be advisable. XII. Contains
various temporary dispositions. The finances of France have long
been in an extremely unsatisfactory condition. The immediate cause
of the revolution of 1789 was the enormous and increasing
deficiency of the revenue. Upon the accession of Louis Philippe, in
1830, the expenditures of government began again to exceed the
receipts, until 1846, when the expenditures amounted to
2,793,000,000 francs, exceeding the revenues by 421,462,000f. The
budget presented by the Minister of Finance for the financial year
1851, estimates the receipts at 1,292,633,639f., exceeding the
expenditures by 10,370,390f., being the first year when there has
been a surplus since the revolution of 1830. The consolidated public
debt of France amounts to 4,509,648,000f., to which is to be added
a floating debt of 515,727,294f., making in all more than 5000
millions of francs, the interest upon which amounts to above
327,000,000f., absorbing about one-fourth of the revenue. The
French army now on foot amounts to 396,000 men; by the law of
June 19, the number was fixed at 106,893, to which, according to
the late Message of the President, it will be speedily reduced, should
political affairs warrant the reduction. The navy according to an
ordinance of 1846, was to consist of 226 sailing vessels, and 102
steamers, of all classes, which number, however, was never reached.
The present force is 125 vessels (a reduction of 100 vessels during
the year), and 22,561 men. Since the election of Louis Bonaparte as
President of the Republic, his whole policy has been directed to the
effort of perpetuating his authority, either as President for life, or
Emperor. The Duke of Nemours and Count of Chambord, the
respective representatives of the lines of Orleans and Bourbon, have
each a large number of partisans; while opposed to all of these are
the Democrats and Socialists, of every shade, who are utterly averse
to any form of monarchical government.
We gave in our last Number a view of the general state of the
German Confederation. It is needless to present the statistics of the
minor German States, as they do not possess sufficient weight to act
except in subservience to either Austria or Prussia.
The Kingdom of Prussia consists of two distinct territories, at a
distance of about forty miles from each other, with Hesse-Cassel and
Hanover intervening. It has an area of 108,214 square miles, with a
population, at the end of 1849, of 16,331,187, of whom about
10,000,000 are Protestants, and 6,000,000 Catholics. The finances
are in a very healthy condition. According to the budget of 1850, the
amount of the revenue was 91,338,449 crowns; the ordinary
expenses of government, including the sinking fund of the public
debt, of two and a half millions, were 90,974,393 crowns, to which is
to be added expenses extraordinary and accidental, to the amount
of 4,925,213 crowns, showing a deficit of 4,561,158 crowns. The
public debt, of every description, including treasury notes, not
bearing interest, is 187,160,272 crowns of which the interest
amounts to 4,885,815, absorbing less than one-eighteenth of the
public revenues. The army, upon a peace-footing, consists of
121,100 regular troops, and 96,100 Landwehr of the first class,
forming a total of 217,200. Upon the war-footing the numbers are
augmented to 528,800. The Landwehr is divided into two classes,
the first embracing every Prussian between the ages of twenty and
thirty-two, not serving in the standing army, and constitutes an army
of reserve, not called out in time of peace except for drill, in the
autumn; but called into active service upon the breaking out of war.
The whole country is divided into arrondissements, and no one
belonging to the Landwehr can leave that to which he belongs,
without permission of the sergeant-major. In every considerable
town dépôts of stores are established, sufficient to provide for this
force, and a staff under pay, so that they may be at once organized.
When assembled for drill, the Landwehr receive the same pay as the
regular army. When they are ordered beyond their own
arrondissement, their families become the legal wards of the
magistracy, who are bound to see that they are provided for. The
Landwehr of the second class consists of all from thirty-two to forty
years who have quitted the first class. To them, in case of war,
garrison duty is committed. The Landsturm or levy en masse,
embraces all Prussians between the ages of seventeen and fifty, not
belonging to either of the above classes; this forms the final
resource and reserve of the country, and is called out only in the last
extremity.
The Empire of Austria, containing an area of 258,262 square miles,
embraces four principal divisions, inhabited by different races, with
peculiar laws, customs, and institutions. Only about one-fourth of its
population is comprehended within the German Confederation,
though she now seeks to include within it a great portion of her
Slavic territories. The population, as laid down in the chart of the
"Direction Impériale de la Statistique Administrative," is made up of
the following elements:
Germans 7,980,920
Slavonians 15,170,602
Italians 5,063,575
Romano-Valaques and Moldavians 2,686,492
Magyars 5,418,773
Jews 746,891
Miscellaneous races 525,873
—————
Total 37,593,125
GREAT BRITAIN.
FRANCE.
GERMANY.
The scales have turned on the side of peace. The Gordian knot is to
be untied, if possible, not cut. The affairs of Germany are to be
decided by articles, not by artillery. The crisis seems to have been
brought about by a peremptory demand from Austria, that Prussia
should evacuate the Electorate of Hesse-Cassel within forty-eight
hours, under the alternative of a declaration of war. At the same
time a dispatch arrived from Lord Palmerston, hinting that in the
event of war, the other powers could not preserve their neutrality.
Thus brought face to face with war, both Austria and Prussia were
frightened. A conference was proposed between Prince
Schwartzenberg and Baron Manteuffel, the Austrian and Prussian
Ministers. This took place at Olmutz, where articles of agreement
were speedily entered into. The essential point of the agreement is,
that all measures for the pacification of Germany shall be taken
jointly by Austria and Prussia. If the Elector of Hesse-Cassel can not
come to terms with his subjects, a Prussian and Austrian battalion
are to occupy the Electorate. Commissioners from the two powers
are to demand the cessation of hostilities in the Duchies, and to
propose terms to Denmark. The formation of a new German
Constitution is to be undertaken by a Conference, meeting at
Dresden, Dec. 23, to which invitations have been sent jointly by the
two powers, who are to stand in all respects on an equality. In the
mean time both are to reduce their armies, as speedily as possible,
to the peace footing. This agreement of the Ministers was ratified by
the two sovereigns. In Prussia the opposition in the Chambers was
so vehement that the Ministry dared not meet it, and adjourned that
body for a month, till Jan. 3, the longest period practicable, in the
hope that by that time the issue of the Dresden Conference might be
such as to produce a favorable change. In the mean time, opposition
to the proposed measure has sprung up from an unexpected
quarter. Austria had hitherto acted in the name of the Diet; she now
coolly ignores the existence of that body, and proceeds to parcel out
all the power and responsibility between herself and Prussia. The
minor German States find themselves left entirely out of the
account. They remember the old habit of powerful states, to
indemnify themselves at the expense of the weaker ones, for any
concessions they have been forced to make to each other; and
suspecting some secret articles; or, at least, some understanding not
publicly avowed, between the two powers, they tremble for their
own independence. The sense of a common danger impels them to
a close union, but they are destitute of a rallying point. A portion of
them, with Austria at their head, had declared themselves the Diet;
but if Austria, the constitutional president, withdraws, the Diet can
not have a legal existence. The Dresden Conference, therefore,
meets, with three parties, having separate interests and fears:
Austria, Prussia, and the minor States—the governments, that is, of
all these—while behind and hostile to the whole, is the Democratic
element, predominant probably among the Prussians, strong in the
lesser States, and not powerless even in Austria, hostile to all
existing governments, or to any confederation they may form,
whether consisting of a duality of Austria and Prussia, or a triad,
composed of these and a coalition of the minor States; but longing,
instead, for a German unity. The cannon is still loaded; the priming
has only been taken out.
The last advices from Dresden, of Dec. 28, bring us an account of
the opening of the Conference by speeches from the Austrian and
Prussian Ministers. That of the former was highly conservative in its
tone, dwelling mainly upon the advantages secured by the old
Confederation. The speech of the Prussian Minister, on the contrary,
hinted strongly at the inefficiency which had marked that league.
The proceedings, thus far, have been merely preliminary. The return
of the Elector of Hesse-Cassel to his dominions, under the escort of
Austrian and Prussian troops, was marked by sullen gloom on the
part of the people. Preparations for the forcible disarmament of
Schleswig-Holstein by Austrian and Prussian forces are actively going
on; it is feared that the Duchies will make a bloody and desperate
resistance.
The internal condition of Austria is far from settled. So arbitrary have
been the proceedings of Government, that even the Times is forced
to disapprove of them, and to wish that instead of Russia, the
Empire had a constitutional ally. The discontents among the Croats
and Servians are as predominant as were those among the
Hungarians, and a coalition between the Slavic and Magyar races,
whom Government has hitherto played off against each other, is by
no means improbable. Government dares not assemble the
Provincial Diets, being fully aware that they would set themselves in
opposition to its measures. In Hungary, the few natives who have
accepted office under Austria, are treated by their countrymen as
the veriest Pariahs, and the officials of Government are thwarted and
harassed in every way possible.
ITALY.
SPAIN.
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