A Strange Discovery by Charles Romyn Dake
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Charles Romyn Dake >> A Strange Discovery
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Before morning, Bainbridge had reached a stage of familiarity that
permitted him to sit on the edge of Peters' bed and talk to the old
fellow briefly and quietly about his farm, and of Doctor Castleton's
goodness and ability, and on other subjects presumably interesting to
the invalid. Bainbridge would gently pat the poor old man on a shoulder,
and smooth his head--somewhat as one does in making the acquaintance of
a big dog. By morning Peters was thoroughly accustomed to our presence;
and he seemed to take our watchfulness as a matter of course, and even
to look for our attentions as a kind of right. He had slept several
hours through the night, and at five o'clock was awake and seemingly
much improved. Not the slightest delirium, even of the passive form--in
fact, nothing of a nature that could alarm or disconcert us, had
occurred. Bainbridge had mentioned eight o'clock as about the time he
would broach the subject of subjects to Peters, intending, as a matter
of course, to lead up to it by very tactful gradations, passing from
journeys in the abstract to the journeys in the concrete, thence to sea
voyages, and thence, perhaps, to some mention of recent arctic (not
antarctic) explorations; and then, asking no questions yet, to proceed
to a mention of Nantucket, from which vantage ground the propriety of
risking a mention of the name Barnard would be considered. If up to this
point all went well, a more pointed question or allusion might well be
risked--the brig Grampus, for instance, might be named; and then,
without more delay than should be necessary for Peters' rest, we might
hope to elicit the whole story of that wonderful voyage of discovery,
the evidence of the completion of which certainly appeared to be before
our eyes in the form of Dirk Peters, the returned voyager to the South
Pole, in person.
At six o'clock we prepared our own breakfast, and enjoyed it, sweetened
as it was by a night in the pure country air, and seasoned with the
anticipation of marvellous discoveries, involving the mysteries of a
strange land, no doubt teeming with amazing surprises, and, as we felt
that we had reason to believe, peopled by a race of beings with customs
and attributes extremely wonderful.
We had just arisen from our breakfast when a buggy drove rapidly up to
the house, and stopped; and we heard the voice of Doctor Castleton,
shouting something to the old miner, who had gone forth a moment before
to care for Bainbridge's horse.
The SEVENTH Chapter
Doctor Castleton entered the sick-room with his usual impetuosity,
saluting us jointly in an off-hand but courteous manner as he crossed
the floor to the bedside of Peters, and took one of the invalid's wrists
in his hand.
"Ah," he said; "better! The quinine of yesterday has done its work; the
bed-time dose of calomel has gone through the liver and stirred up that
enemy of human health and happiness, the bile; and the morning dose of
salts will, beyond a peradventure, soon be heard from. Now we will throw
the whiskey toddy into him, and plenty of it, too; and--yes, we'll go on
with the quinine, repeat the calomel to-night, and have him ready for
something else by to-morrow."
Now I never like to mention doubtful incidents in such a manner as to
suggest my own belief in them; but I then suspected, and I am now
morally certain, that Doctor Bainbridge had, in assuming the care of
Peters, failed to execute medical orders, and had administered only
remedies or pretended remedies of his own, so as to prevent Peters,
myself, and the attending physician from detecting any omissions. This,
I am aware, is a terrible charge to make--still, I make it: Peters did
not get a fourth, if any, of the medicines left for him by Doctor
Castleton during the time that Bainbridge cared for the old man.
But if Bainbridge had, with the intention of prolonging the life of
Peters, and with greater confidence in his own professional judgment
than in that of Castleton, omitted the remedies prescribed, it was soon
apparent that the deception might prove in vain. I have already
intimated that the older physician's perceptions and intuitions were so
quick as sometimes to appear almost uncanny; and after asking a question
or two, he began to pour upon a square of white paper, from a small vial
which he took from one of his vest pockets, a very heavy white powder;
and we soon perceived that the powder was to be poured from the paper to
the invalid's tongue. Bainbridge was interested in Peters--not only
selfishly and with a motive to learn the facts of the old sailor's
strange voyage; but he was also interested in the poor old wreck for the
sake of the man himself. I saw that in the opinion of Bainbridge, if
that white powder were administered to the invalid it would injure
him--probably weaken him, and cause a relapse, and perhaps even an
earlier death than otherwise might occur; and I saw that Bainbridge was
really apprehensive and annoyed. At last he suggested to Castleton to
delay the administration of the intended remedy, if only for a few
hours. And when Castleton called attention to his own view of the
necessity for quick action, involving the instant administration of the
dose, it would obviously have been so unwise to contradict him, that
Bainbridge did not risk such a course. But, over-anxious to gain his
point, he did something still more impolitic. He suggested a remedy of
his own by which, he said, Peters would speedily be relieved--a new
drug, I believe, or at least a remedy not known to Castleton. For a
moment I looked for an explosion of offended dignity; but Castleton
controlled his first impulse, and, not looking at Bainbridge, he centred
his apparent attention wholly upon myself, and with exceedingly grave
vigor, said,
"I, sir, am a member of the Clare County Medical Society--I was once
President of that learned body, and have since then for seven
consecutive years been its Secretary--my penmanship being illegible to
the other members, and often to myself, preventing many disagreements,
by precluding a successful reference to the minutes of past meetings.
Now, sir, tell me, as man to man, can I consult with, or listen to
suggestions--even to suggestions, though worthy of a gigantic
intellect--can I listen to suggestions coming from the mentality of a
non-member of our learned body? Before replying, let me say that our
society is known throughout all of Egypt--that is, you know, Egypt,
Illinois. When a medical savant in Paris, or Leipsig, or London, alleges
a discovery, we determine the questions of its originality and its
value--the chief purpose of our meeting, however, being to present our
own discoveries. Now, sir, I appeal to you whether our rules should or
should not be strictly obeyed--and the second clause of section three of
those rules and regulations--an ethical necessity, and found in the
ethical codes of all well-regulated medical societies the world
over--says that a member shall not meet in consultation a non-member,
even to save a human life--a decidedly remote possibility."
He paused. Neither Bainbridge nor I spoke. In fact, an expression of our
thoughts would have been wholly unnecessary, as Castleton appeared to
comprehend what was in our minds, as shown by his continued remarks.
"'Liberality,'" you may say: "True, there should be liberality in this
eternal world. Individually we _are_ liberal--we _are_ gentlemen; but it
is different with us when you take us as a body. I am for harmony. I
admit that at our meetings we do sometimes fight like very devils--life
is a conflict, anyway. Sir, the country is full of cursed heresies and
growing schisms.--But let me ask--not the doctor here, whom I respect
for his immense learning and Cyclopsian (I mean large--not single-eyed)
wisdom--what _his_ remedy would be? I ask you, sir, not him."
Here Doctor Castleton stepped close to my side, and speaking into my ear
in a ghastly whisper, said, "The ass isn't Regular!" He then drew back,
and looked at me as if expecting astonishment on my part.
I then exchanged a few words with Bainbridge, and informed Castleton of
the result. "Ah, ha--ah, ha--indeed," he said, with as near an approach
to sarcasm as was possible with him. "So my learned young friend thinks
that an organ--the liver--weighing nearly four pounds is to be moved
with a hundredth of a drop of--of--anything! Damn it, sir, am I awake?"
"Ask Doctor Castleton, sir, what portion of a grain of small-pox virus
it would require to disseminate over a whole county, if not checked, a
dread disease? Ask him from what an oak-tree grows?"
"Ask him," said Castleton, "how long it takes an acorn to act. In this
case we require celerity of action--force and penetration."
"Ask him," said Bainbridge, "if the solar rays have celerity, and force,
and penetration; and how much they weigh. It requires fine shot to bring
down the essence of a disease----"
"Tell him," shouted Castleton, "that the liver is a mammoth that
requires a twenty-four-pounder to penetrate its hide. We don't hunt the
rhinoceros with bird-shot."
"Say to the gentleman," said Bainbridge, slightly flushed, but still
with dignity, "that in this case the animal is not to be slaughtered,
but to be cured."
"Damme," said Castleton, "who says slaughtered?--Have I, a surgeon of
renown, a gentleman and a scholar, a member of the County Society, sunk
so low that I can be called a murderer? Stop--stop where you are--stop
in time. Say to the Gentleman that he has gone too far--say that an
apology is in order--say that he treads the edge of a living crater. I
am dangerous--so my friends say--devilish dangerous"--a smile crossed
the face of Bainbridge; and even so slight and transient an appearance
as a passing smile was not lost on Castleton, though he seemed to be
looking another way--"I mean dangerous on the field of honor. Quackery,
sir, is my abhorrence----"
"Come, come, gentlemen," I said, "you are allowing your professional
_amour propre_ to mislead you. Now," I continued, assuming an air of
_bonhomie_, "it seems to me, an outsider, that this whole difference
might easily be adjusted. Doctor Castleton here advocates firing
twenty-four-pound balls into the patient, and Doctor Bainbridge suggests
peppering the invalid with bird-shot. There is certainly room between
the bowlders for the bird-shot to slip, and the one will not interfere
with the other--I say, give both. Doctor Castleton advises that the dose
be immediately given, whilst Doctor Bainbridge appears to think four or
five hours hence the better time. I suggest a compromise: let them be
given an hour or two hence. There seems to be also some obstacle in the
way of one of you giving the other's medicine--so let me administer
both the remedies. Now what possible objection can be advanced to this?"
They both laughed; and as Castleton would be on his way home in a few
moments, Bainbridge was thoroughly pleased with my proposal. Castleton
tacitly consented, and in half a minute seemed to have forgotten the
episode--or, at most, gave indication of remembrance only by an apparent
desire to be over-agreeable to Bainbridge. A moment later he said to me,
"My dear sir, I hastened my visit here this morning out of consideration
for yourself. Last evening after you had departed, Mr. ---- called at
the Loomis House to see you. I happened to meet him as, in some
disappointment at having missed you, he was leaving the hotel, where he
had learned that you might be gone for two days. I then offered to
deliver any message that he should send to you, this morning. When he
was informed that you were but ten miles away, in the country, he said
that his business with you was pressing; and he asked if it would be
possible for you to return to town for a few hours this morning. Then I
said that I would convey to you his wishes, and that if you so desired
you could be at your hotel before nine o'clock--at which hour he said he
would call at the Loomis House, with the hope of meeting you."
I thanked the doctor; and after consulting Bainbridge, said I would
avail myself of the offer to return at once to Bellevue. I appreciated
that it would be Bainbridge and not I who would have to manage Peters.
It was a disappointment to think of missing Peters' story at first-hand;
but I hoped to return by the middle of the afternoon, and I knew that
Bainbridge could repeat with accuracy all that the old sailor should
say. I doubted whether Bainbridge could extract very much from the old
man's senile intellect before my return, as the aged voyager was, both
in mind and body, quite feeble, and of little endurance. Besides, when
once started and warmed to his subject--and very little information
could be gained till he was so started--he would no doubt be garrulous.
Doctor Castleton and I started for town at a brisk trot, the doctor
having parted from Bainbridge in the best of humors. His last words,
shouted back as we drove off, were, "Don't forget the calomel at
nine-thirty, doctor; and add to the treatment whatever you may think
best. I trust you implicitly. Send me word if you need help."
Strange man! So pleasant, and so harsh; so grand, and so ignoble; so
great, and so small; so broad, and so narrow; so kind, and so unkind. As
my mind ran along in this channel, I wondered how one and the same man
could express the views that he had proclaimed in connection with his
medical association, and yet speak of life and death as he had spoken to
me on the day preceding. What did he really believe? Could the
actor-temperament, displaying itself on most occasions, in connection
with a display at times of his natural self, as we say, account for all
his eccentricities?
As we fairly flew along the forest road, nearing our destination by a
mile in each three minutes, we came to the only hill on the entire route
which was considerable, both in extent and in degree of gradient. Doctor
Castleton allowed the gait of his horses to slacken into a slow walk;
and--ever nervous, ever active--he reached into the side pocket of his
linen duster, and drew forth a small book, apparently fresh from the
publisher.
"'The Mistakes of the Gods, and Other Lectures,'" he said, looking at
the back of the volume, and reading its title. "Ah, 'The Gods.' The
title, sir, almost tells the whole story; and so far as you and I are
concerned, it is almost a waste of time for us to open the book--and a
crime against themselves for ignorant men to do so."
"The author must be one of your 'holy terrors' that I hear mentioned," I
said. "A Western 'bad man' no doubt. Sad! sad! is it not?"
"Oh, no, no; the author is not a cowboy--he's a perfect gentleman--as
polished as I am; and there's nothing very sad in the book. It contains
several lectures in the line of agnostic agitation, which were from time
to time delivered by a very talented, but, as I think, mistaken man.
When I say mistaken, I do not mean mistaken in the sense that our church
people might apply the term to him; for our church people seem to
misunderstand him, almost as greatly as he misapprehends the purposes of
nineteenth-century Anglo-Saxon Christian workers. But mark my words,
sir, you will soon, in England, hear of this young 'infidel' lecturer;
for with his keen brain, his invincible logic, his concise and beautiful
rhetoric, he will soon be recognized as the most popular living
agnostic. His home is not far distant from Bellevue, and I have
frequently heard him lecture. I think him the best platform orator I
have ever listened to, though I have twice been charmed by the eloquence
of Phillips, and a dozen times by that of Beecher. I shall not outrage
your own and my own manhood by alluding to anything which the more
partisan church people say of this brilliant agnostic; and I say what I
do, only because in your distant home you may some day wonder just what
is behind an agnostic demonstration such as he is leading up to, and
which is certain to centralize the dissatisfied spirit of the country
into an anti-church propaganda of no mean proportions. I am opposed to
such a movement; but I believe in truth as the only durable weapon, and
I love truth for truth's sake--I should refuse to enter the gateway of
heaven if liars were admitted. I cannot go into the history of this man,
but this much is fact: There are reasons which cause him to believe that
in striking at Christianity he is performing a highly praiseworthy
action. In this belief he is as sincere and as enthusiastic in his cold
logical way, as is any Christian in _his_ belief. If duplicity were
possible to this man--or if he could have found it consistent with his
sense of right even to keep silence concerning his opinion on religious
subjects--he would by this time have been Governor of Illinois; and,
with his ability, there is no elective office in the country to which he
might not aspire with reasonable certainty of success. He himself is
aware of all this, as are all who know him. At the early age of
thirty-three, before his views were generally known, he was our
Attorney-General. No political party will ever again dare to nominate
him for an office."
"This is all wrong," I said; "it savors of religious persecution."
"True," said Castleton, "it does; but the fact is as I state it. He
would if he ran for office lose enough votes from his own party to allow
his opponent to win."
"But, my dear doctor," I said, "I fail to catch your reasons for
thinking this man mistaken. You surely would not have him be untrue to
himself?"
"Oh, no--never that! I mean that he is intellectually mistaken in
thinking that the world is still to be benefited by agnostic agitation
among the masses. Voltaire had a good reason for proclaiming and
teaching his views, because in France, in his day, religious infidelity
was necessary to political liberty. Tom Paine had a good reason for his
course, because Christianity, misrepresented at that time by mistaken or
corrupt men, was arrayed on the side of the despot, and so continued up
to the beginning of the French Revolution. But this man has no good
excuse for a fight against church influence in the United States, now in
1877. The influence of the Christian church is now certainly exerted for
good, and does not attempt to restrict the liberty of any man, or of
society."
"But did you not just say that this agnostic's views would forever
prevent his election to public office, here in this great free country,
in the year 1877 and onward?"
"We cannot have a free country and not allow a man to vote against
another, even if his vote were influenced by the cut of a candidate's
trousers."
"Yes," I said; "but if the cut of a candidate's trousers influenced a
man's vote, such a man would be a good object for education. Your
agnostic would no doubt say that the influence of church is to be fought
so long as it judges of a man's capability to do one thing well by his
opinion on a totally different subject."
"You will never educate the people out of their prejudices; but I myself
should vote against this man because his course shows his views to be
inconsistent with statesmanship. No person desires to restrict another's
individual opinions; we only combat this man's because of their effects,
as he combats those of his opponents. There are as many agnostics,
proportionally, that would not vote for a Presbyterian, for instance,
for public office, as there are Presbyterians who, under like
circumstances, would not vote for an agnostic."
"But in what way does the belief, or want of belief, of an agnostic,
prevent an otherwise able man from being a statesman?" I asked.
"No doubt some of the best statesmen living are agnostics; but they are
not agnostic agitators. Men who are able to digest and assimilate
agnostic opinions, are able to initiate those ideas for themselves; and
only men who are able to properly digest and assimilate such ideas
should have them at all."
"Can you," I asked, "state an instance in which what you indicate as
premature education of the masses in agnostic ideas, might lead to
injury to the persons so instructed, or to society at large?"
"Yes, sir, I can. Your ignorant American--the 'cracker' element of the
South, your ignorant Italian, and your ignorant Irishman are injured by
taking away their religious beliefs. The first of these, when church
people, dress neatly, are honorable, and have some upward-tending
ambitions; whilst those of them that are infidels are reduced--men and
women--to a state of ambitionless inertia and tobacco saturation--if no
worse. The two latter are either under religious control, or under
secret-society control. If the lower-class Irishman or Italian,
unendowed with judgment to rightly use the little knowledge he already
possesses--to properly interpret his own feelings or guide his own
impulses--has not his church with its priestly control, he will have his
secret-society with its secret executive control, its bovine fury, and
its senseless pertinacity, the poison-bowl and the dagger. For my part,
if a man must either seek liberty from ambush, and learn independence
through treachery, or else be on his knees before a graven image, suited
to his mental calibre--let us keep him on his knees till he can rise to
something better than murder. Why, sir, an Irish Republican (a
rarity)--an editor, once said to me that some of our Irish emigrants
have hair on their teeth when they get to America; and, though I may be
wrong, I never see an Italian organ-grinder without first thinking of a
dagger between my ribs, and then settling down to a comfortable feeling
that if the fellow's a Catholic the confessional stands between me and
such a danger. The man who attempts to teach such fellows about complete
liberty should be responsible for any consequent acts."
"Still, doctor," I said, "the road to universal knowledge cannot be all
smooth. Ground must be broken by somebody. If there is anything in
Christianity that bars the way to final freedom of mind for the whole
human race, then I myself say, clear away the obstructions--the work
cannot begin too soon or continue too vigorously."
"I see nothing in true Christianity but good for the human race--surely
you speak only to call out my own views. If there is anything in any
church policy or polity which requires reforming, let it be reformed."
"Excuse me, doctor," I said; "but I had thought you yourself an
agnostic. Do you not think that if a religion will not bear the test of
cold reason, it should be discarded from the lives of men?"
"No, I do not. The human mind is not comprised in intellect alone--it
has its moral or emotional side, wholly apart from reason. Religion is
not to be reasoned about--it is to be felt. No founder of a religion
ever claimed for it a place in man's reason. Now just think for a
minute. Let us leave the ignorant, and consider what the best of men
are--men who have attained a mental cultivation certainly as great as
will ever be possible to the masses. Take the very highest society in
England and America--to what extent are its members controlled by
_reason_, and to what extent by _feeling_ and by the fixed sentiments
growing out of feeling? Ratiocination does not influence one of their
actions in a million. There is not within my knowledge a single instance
where a purely rational conception has been the basis of practice, in
opposition to feeling."
"Surely," I said, "you do not mean to say that educated men are not
governed in the main by reason?"
"I mean just what I say--that I do not know, in practice, a single
instance in which they are so governed in opposition to feeling. Pshaw,
pshaw! young man; if we are to compel the acts of practical daily life
to conform with a dialectic demonstration of what is best for us--to do
only what is in reason best for us--we must simply cease to live, though
we do continue to breathe. Even in physics, of what use are logical
demonstrations, when the premises are only a foundation more unstable
than quicksand--purely provisional?
"Now if these agnostics were truthful--which they try to be; and were
consistent--which they are not, they would be in a trying situation.
Reason shows no advantage to a man in kissing his wife; he has no
syllogistic endorsement for supporting her and the children; in fact, he
has no business to have children--all the result of feeling or
sentiment, all rubbish, and beneath the intellect of a man who worships
Pure Reason! And if the demands of man's moral or affectional nature are
a reason for such indulgences, then his aspirations to the great primal
cause of the known, the unknown, and (to us here and now) unknowable
wonders and mysteries of the universe without, and of ourselves within,
is also justifiable in reason, and ought not by wit and eloquence to be
juggled out of the ingenuous mind. The masses are governed by religion,
directly and indirectly, to an extent much greater than at first thought
appears. The daily life of the agnostic himself is shaped by his
Christian heredity and environment. Now our Author furnishes no
substitute for this intuitive demand of being. If reason can supply
nothing in place of religion, why not allow those who possess religious
conviction to retain so agreeable, and to others beneficial, a
belief?--Now right here I can detect the voice of the agnostic
agitator--this is his strongest situation, and he simply smiles when you
make this opening for him. The voice says, 'Agreeable? Agreeable to burn
forever in hell? Well, well, my friend--our ideas of pleasure differ.'
This is sophistical twaddle. It is not the Christian that suffers from a
fear of hell--it is the sinner, through his guilty conscience.
Conscience, conscience; the only barrier between us and hell on earth!
Christians are comforted by the thought of a loving Christ--Christians,
in my experience, do not suffer."
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