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diff --git a/5764-h/5764-h.htm b/5764-h/5764-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e47f2a0 --- /dev/null +++ b/5764-h/5764-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6618 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Doctor Therne, by H. 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Rider Haggard</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Doctor Therne</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: H. Rider Haggard</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Release Date: August 30, 2002 [eBook #5764]<br /> +[Most recently updated: May 11, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: John Bickers, Dagny and David Widger</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em;margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DOCTOR THERNE ***</div> + +<h1>Doctor Therne</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">by H. Rider Haggard</h2> + +<hr /> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#pref01">AUTHOR’S NOTE </a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap01">CHAPTER I. THE DILIGENCE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap02">CHAPTER II. THE HACIENDA</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap03">CHAPTER III. SIR JOHN BELL</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap04">CHAPTER IV. STEPHEN STRONG GOES BAIL</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap05">CHAPTER V. THE TRIAL</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap06">CHAPTER VI. THE GATE OF DARKNESS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap07">CHAPTER VII. CROSSING THE RUBICON</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap08">CHAPTER VIII. BRAVO THE A.V.’S</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap09">CHAPTER IX. FORTUNE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap10">CHAPTER X. JANE MEETS DR. MERCHISON</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap11">CHAPTER XI. THE COMING OF THE RED-HEADED MAN</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap12">CHAPTER XII. THE SHADOW OF PESTILENCE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap13">CHAPTER XIII. HARVEST</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<p class="center"> +DEDICATED In all sincerity<br/> +(but without permission)<br/> +to the<br/> +MEMBERS OF THE JENNER SOCIETY <br/> +<br/> +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="pref01"></a>AUTHOR’S NOTE</h2> + +<p> +Some months since the leaders of the Government dismayed their supporters and +astonished the world by a sudden surrender to the clamour of the +anti-vaccinationists. In the space of a single evening, with a marvellous +versatility, they threw to the agitators the ascertained results of generations +of the medical faculty, the report of a Royal Commission, what are understood +to be their own convictions, and the President of the Local Government Board. +After one ineffectual fight the House of Lords answered to the whip, and, under +the guise of a “graceful concession,” the health of the country was +given without appeal into the hand of the “Conscientious Objector.” +</p> + +<p> +In his perplexity it has occurred to an observer of these events—as a +person who in other lands has seen and learned something of the ravages of +smallpox among the unvaccinated—to try to forecast their natural and, in +the view of many, their almost certain end. Hence these pages from the life +history of the pitiable, but unfortunate Dr. Therne.[*] <i>Absit omen!</i> May +the prophecy be falsified! But, on the other hand, it may not. Some who are +very competent to judge say that it will not; that, on the contrary, this +strange paralysis of “the most powerful ministry of the generation” +must result hereafter in much terror, and in the sacrifice of innocent lives. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*] It need hardly be explained that Dr. Therne himself is a character +convenient to the dramatic purpose of the story, and in no way intended to be +taken as a type of anti-vaccinationist medical men, who are, the author +believes, as conscientious in principle as they are select in number. +</p> + +<p> +The importance of the issue to those helpless children from whom the State has +thus withdrawn its shield, is this writer’s excuse for inviting the +public to interest itself in a medical tale. As for the moral, each reader can +fashion it to his fancy. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>DOCTOR THERNE</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap01"></a>CHAPTER I<br/> +THE DILIGENCE</h2> + +<p> +James Therne is not my real name, for why should I publish it to the world? A +year or two ago it was famous—or infamous—enough, but in that time +many things have happened. There has been a war, a continental revolution, two +scandals of world-wide celebrity, one moral and the other financial, and, to +come to events that interest me particularly as a doctor, an epidemic of +Asiatic plague in Italy and France, and, stranger still, an outbreak of the +mediaeval grain sickness, which is believed to have carried off 20,000 people +in Russia and German Poland, consequent, I have no doubt, upon the wet season +and poor rye harvest in those countries. +</p> + +<p> +These occurrences and others are more than enough to turn the public mind from +the recollection of the appalling smallpox epidemic that passed over England +last autumn two years, of which the first fury broke upon the city of +Dunchester, my native place, that for many years I had the honour to represent +in Parliament. The population of Dunchester, it is true, is smaller by over +five thousand souls, and many of those who survive are not so good-looking as +they were, but the gap is easily filled and pock-marks are not hereditary. +Also, such a horror will never happen again, for now the law of compulsory +vaccination is strong enough! Only the dead have cause of complaint, those who +were cut off from the world and despatched hot-foot whither we see not. Myself +I am certain of nothing; I know too much about the brain and body to have much +faith in the soul, and I pray to God that I may be right. Ah! there it comes +in. If a God, why not the rest, and who shall say there is no God? Somehow it +seems to me that more than once in my life I have seen His Finger. +</p> + +<p> +Yet I pray that I am right, for if I am wrong what a welcome awaits me yonder +when grief and chloral and that “slight weakness of the heart” have +done their work. +</p> + +<p> +Yes—five thousand of them or more in Dunchester alone, and, making every +allowance, I suppose that in this one city there were very many of +these—young people mostly—who owed their deaths to me, since it was +my persuasion, my eloquent arguments, working upon the minds of their +prejudiced and credulous elders, that surely, if indirectly, brought their doom +upon them. “A doctor is not infallible, he may make mistakes.” +Quite so, and if a mistake of his should kill a few thousands, why, that is the +act of God (or of Fate) working through his blindness. But if it does not +happen to have been a mistake, if, for instance, all those dead, should they +still live in any place or shape, could say to me, “James Therne, you are +the murderer of our bodies, since, for your own ends, you taught us that which +you knew <i>not</i> to be the truth.” +</p> + +<p> +How then? I ask. So—let them say it if they will. Let all that great +cloud of witnesses compass me about, lads and maidens, children and infants, +whose bones cumber the churchyards yonder in Dunchester. I defy them, for it is +done and cannot be undone. Yet, in their company are two whose eyes I dread to +meet: Jane, my daughter, whose life was sacrificed through me, and Ernest +Merchison, her lover, who went to seek her in the tomb. +</p> + +<p> +They would not reproach me now, I know, for she was too sweet and loved me too +well with all my faults, and, if he proved pitiless in the first torment of his +loss, Merchison was a good and honest man, who, understanding my remorse and +misery, forgave me before he died. Still, I dread to meet them, who, if that +old fable be true and they live, read me for what I am. Yet why should I fear, +for all this they knew before they died, and, knowing, could forgive? Surely it +is with another vengeance that I must reckon. +</p> + +<p> +Well, after her mother’s death my daughter was the only being whom I ever +truly loved, and no future mental hell that the imagination can invent would +have power to make me suffer more because of her than I have always suffered +since the grave closed over her—the virgin martyr sacrificed on the altar +of a false prophet and a coward. +</p> + +<p> +I come of a family of doctors. My grandfather, Thomas Therne, whose name still +lives in medicine, was a doctor in the neighbourhood of Dunchester, and my +father succeeded to his practice and nothing else, for the old gentleman had +lived beyond his means. Shortly after my father’s marriage he sold this +practice and removed into Dunchester, where he soon acquired a considerable +reputation as a surgeon, and prospered, until not long after my birth, just as +a brilliant career seemed to be opening itself to him, death closed his book +for ever. In attending a case of smallpox, about four months before I was born, +he contracted the disease, but the attack was not considered serious and he +recovered from it quickly. It would seem, however, that it left some +constitutional weakness, for a year later he was found to be suffering from +tuberculosis of the lungs, and was ordered to a warmer climate. +</p> + +<p> +Selling his Dunchester practice for what it would fetch to his assistant, Dr. +Bell, my father came to Madeira—whither, I scarcely know why, I have also +drifted now that all is over for me—for here he hoped to be able to earn +a living by doctoring the English visitors. This, however, he could not do, +since the climate proved no match for his disease, though he lingered for +nearly two years, during which time he spent all the money that he had. When he +died there was scarcely enough left to pay for his funeral in the little +churchyard yonder that I can see from the windows of this <i>quinta</i>. Where +he lies exactly I do not know as no record was kept, and the wooden cross, the +only monument that my mother could afford to set over him, has long ago rotted +away. +</p> + +<p> +Some charitable English people helped my mother to return to England, where we +went to live with her mother, who existed on a pension of about 120 pounds a +year, in a fishing-village near Brighton. Here I grew up, getting my +education—a very good one by the way—at a cheap day school. My +mother’s wish was that I should become a sailor like her own father, who +had been a captain in the Navy, but the necessary money was not forthcoming to +put me into the Royal Navy, and my liking for the sea was not strong enough to +take me into the merchant service. +</p> + +<p> +From the beginning I wished to be a doctor like my father and grandfather +before me, for I knew that I was clever, and I knew also that successful +doctors make a great deal of money. Ground down as I had been by poverty from +babyhood, already at nineteen years of age I desired money above everything on +earth. I saw then, and subsequent experience has only confirmed my views, that +the world as it has become under the pressure of high civilisation is a world +for the rich. Leaving material comforts and advantages out of the question, +what ambition can a man satisfy without money? Take the successful politicians +for instance, and it will be found that almost every one of them is rich. This +country is too full; there is scant room for the individual. Only intellectual +Titans can force their heads above the crowd, and, as a rule, they have not +even then the money to take them higher. If I had my life over again—and +it is my advice to all young men of ability and ambition—I would leave +the old country and settle in America or in one of the great colonies. There, +where the conditions are more elastic and the competition is not so cruel, a +hard-working man of talent does not need to be endowed with fortune to enable +him to rise to the top of the tree. +</p> + +<p> +Well, my desire was to be accomplished, for as it chanced a younger brother of +my father, who during his lifetime had never taken any notice of me, died and +left me 750 pounds. Seven hundred and fifty pounds! To me at that time it was +colossal wealth, for it enabled us to rent some rooms in London, where I +entered myself as a medical student at University College. +</p> + +<p> +There is no need for me to dwell upon my college career, but if any one were to +take the trouble to consult the old records he would find that it was +sufficiently brilliant. I worked hard, and I had a natural, perhaps an +hereditary liking, for the work. Medicine always fascinated me. I think it the +greatest of the sciences, and from the beginning I was determined that I would +be among the greatest of its masters. +</p> + +<p> +At four and twenty, having finished my curriculum with high honours—I was +gold medallist of my year in both medicine and surgery—I became +house-surgeon to one of the London hospitals. After my term of office was over +I remained at the hospital for another year, for I wished to make a practical +study of my profession in all its branches before starting a private practice. +At the end of this time my mother died while still comparatively young. She had +never really recovered from the loss of my father, and, though it was long +about it, sorrow sapped her strength at last. Her loss was a shock to me, +although in fact we had few tastes in common. To divert my mind, and also +because I was somewhat run down and really needed a change, I asked a friend of +mine who was a director of a great steamship line running to the West Indies +and Mexico to give me a trip out, offering my medicine services in return for +the passage. This he agreed to do with pleasure; moreover, matters were so +arranged that I could stop in Mexico for three months and rejoin the vessel on +her next homeward trip. +</p> + +<p> +After a very pleasant voyage I reached Vera Cruz. It is a quaint and in some +ways a pretty place, with its tall cool-looking houses and narrow streets, not +unlike Funchal, only more tropical. Whenever I think of it, however, the first +memories that leap to my mind are those of the stench of the open drains and of +the scavenger carts going their rounds with the <i>zaphilotes</i> or vultures +actually sitting upon them. As it happened, those carts were very necessary +then, for a yellow fever epidemic was raging in the place. Having nothing +particular to do I stopped there for three weeks to study it, working in the +hospitals with the local doctors, for I felt no fear of yellow fever—only +one contagious disease terrifies me, and with that I was soon destined to make +acquaintance. +</p> + +<p> +At length I arranged to start for the City of Mexico, to which in those days +the journey from Vera Cruz was performed by diligence as the railway was not +yet finished. At that time Mexico was a wild country. Wars and revolutions +innumerable, together with a certain natural leaning that way, had reduced a +considerable proportion of its inhabitants to the road, where they earned a +precarious living—not by mending it, but by robbing and occasionally +cutting the throats of any travellers whom they could catch. +</p> + +<p> +The track from Vera Cruz to Mexico City runs persistently uphill; indeed, I +think the one place is 7000 feet above the level of the other. First, there is +the hot zone, where the women by the wayside sell you pineapples and cocoanuts; +then the temperate zone, where they offer you oranges and bananas; then the +cold country, in which you are expected to drink a filthy liquid extracted from +aloes called <i>pulque</i>, that in taste and appearance resembles soapy water. +</p> + +<p> +It was somewhere in the temperate zone that we passed a town consisting of +fifteen <i>adobe</i> or mud houses and seventeen churches. The excessive +religious equipment of this city is accounted for by an almost inaccessible +mountain stronghold in the neighbourhood. This stronghold for generations had +been occupied by brigands, and it was the time-honoured custom of each +chieftain of the band, when he retired on a hard-earned competence, to expiate +any regrettable incidents in his career by building a church in the town +dedicated to his patron saint and to the memory of those whose souls he had +helped to Paradise. This pious and picturesque, if somewhat mediaeval, custom +has now come to an end, as I understand that the Mexican Government caused the +stronghold to be stormed a good many years ago, and put its occupants, to the +number of several hundreds, to the sword. +</p> + +<p> +We were eight in the coach, which was drawn by as many mules—four +merchants, two priests, myself and the lady who afterwards became my wife. She +was a blue-eyed and fair-haired American from New York. Her name, I soon +discovered, was Emma Becker, and her father, who was dead, had been a lawyer. +We made friends at once, and before we had jolted ten miles on our journey I +learned her story. It seemed that she was an orphan with a very small fortune, +and only one near relative, an aunt who had married a Mexican named Gomez, the +owner of a fine range or <i>hacienda</i> situated on the border of the +highlands, about eighty miles from the City of Mexico. On the death of her +father, being like most American girls adventurous and independent, Miss Becker +had accepted an invitation from her aunt Gomez and her husband to come and live +with them a while. Now, quite alone and unescorted, she was on her way to +Mexico City, where she expected to be met by some friends of her uncle. +</p> + +<p> +We started from Vera Cruz about mid-day and slept, or rather passed the night, +at a filthy inn alive with every sort of insect pest. Two hours before dawn we +were bundled into the <i>diligencia</i> and slowly dragged up a mountain road +so steep that, notwithstanding the blows and oaths of the drivers, the mules +had to stop every few hundred yards to rest. I remember that at last I fell +asleep, my head reposing on the shoulder of a very fat priest, who snored +tempestuously, then awoke to pray, then snored again. It was the voice of Miss +Becker, who sat opposite to me, that wakened me. +</p> + +<p> +“Forgive me for disturbing you, Dr. Therne,” she said, “but +you really must look,” and she pointed through the window of the coach. +</p> + +<p> +Following her hand I saw a sight which no one who has witnessed it can ever +forget: the sun rising on the mighty peak of Orizaba, the Star Mountain, as the +old Aztecs named it. Eighteen thousand feet above our heads towered the great +volcano, its foot clothed with forests, its cone dusted with snow. The green +flanks of the peak and the country beneath them were still wrapped in shadow, +but on its white and lofty crest already the lights of dawn were burning. Never +have I seen anything more beautiful than this soaring mountain top flaming like +some giant torch over a world of darkness; indeed, the unearthly grandeur of +the sight amazed and half paralysed my mind. +</p> + +<p> +A lantern swung from the roof of the coach, and, turning my eyes from the +mountain, in its light I saw the face of my travelling companion and—fell +in love with it. I had seen it before without any such idea entering my mind; +then it had been to me only the face of a rather piquante and pretty girl, but +with this strange and inconvenient result, the sight of the dawn breaking upon +Orizaba seemed to have worked some change in me. At least, if only for an +instant, it had pierced the barrier that day by day we build within us to +protect ourselves from the attack of the impulses of nature. +</p> + +<p> +In that moment at any rate there was a look upon this girl’s countenance +and a light shining in her eyes which overcame my caution and swept me out of +myself, for I think that she too was under the shadow of the glory which broke +upon the crest of Orizaba. In vain did I try to save myself and to struggle +back to common-sense, since hitherto the prospect of domestic love had played +no part in my scheme of life. It was useless, so I gave it up, and our eyes +met. +</p> + +<p> +Neither of us said anything, but from that time forward we knew that we did not +wish to be parted any more. +</p> + +<p> +After a while, to relieve a tension of mind which neither of us cared to +reveal, we drifted into desultory and indifferent conversation. In the course +of our talk Emma told me that her aunt had written to her that if she could +leave the coach at Orizaba she would be within fifty miles of the +<i>hacienda</i> of La Concepcion, whereas when she reached Mexico City she +would still be eighty miles from it. Her aunt had added, however, that this was +not practicable at present, why she did not say, and that she must go on to +Mexico where some friends would take charge of her until her uncle was able to +fetch her. +</p> + +<p> +Presently Emma seemed to fall asleep, at least she shut her eyes. But I could +not sleep, and sat there listening to the snores of the fat priest and the +strange interminable oaths of the drivers as they thrashed the mules. Opposite +to me, tied to the roof of the coach immediately above Emma’s head, was a +cheap looking-glass, provided, I suppose, for the convenience of passengers +when making the toilette of travel. In it I could see myself reflected, so, +having nothing better to do, in view of contingencies which of a sudden had +become possible, I amused myself by taking count of my personal appearance. On +the whole in those days it was not unsatisfactory. In build, I was tall and +slight, with thin, nervous hands. My colouring and hair were dark, and I had +soft and rather large brown eyes. The best part of my face was my forehead, +which was ample, and the worst my mouth, which was somewhat weak. I do not +think, however, that any one would have guessed by looking at me as I then +appeared at the age of seven and twenty, that I was an exceedingly hard-working +man with extraordinary powers of observation and a really retentive memory. +</p> + +<p> +At any rate, I am sure that it was not these qualities which recommended me to +Emma Becker, nor, whatever we may have felt under the influences of Orizaba, +was it any spiritual affinity. Doctors, I fear, are not great believers in +spiritual affinities; they know that such emotions can be accounted for in +other ways. Probably Emma was attracted to me because I was dark, and I to her +because she was fair. Orizaba and opportunity merely brought out and +accentuated these quite natural preferences. +</p> + +<p> +By now the day had broken, and, looking out of the window, I could see that we +were travelling along the side of a mountain. Above us the slope was gentle and +clothed with sub-tropical trees, while below it became a veritable precipice, +in some places absolutely sheer, for the road was cut upon a sort of rocky +ledge, although, owing to the vast billows of mist that filled it, nothing +could be seen of the gulf beneath. +</p> + +<p> +I was reflecting, I remember, that this would be an ill path to drive with a +drunken coachman, when suddenly I saw the off-front mule stumble unaccountably, +and, as it fell, heard a shot fired close at hand. Next instant also I saw the +driver and his companion spring from the box, and, with a yell of terror, +plunge over the edge of the cliff, apparently into the depths below. Then from +the narrow compass of that coach arose a perfect pandemonium of sounds, with an +under cry of a single word, “Brigands! Brigands!” +</p> + +<p> +The merchants shouted, supplicated their saints, and swore as with trembling +hands they tried to conceal loose valuables in their boots and hats; one of the +priests too literally howled in his terror, but the other, a man of more +dignity, only bowed his head and murmured a prayer. By this time also the mules +had tied themselves into a knot and were threatening to overturn the coach, to +prevent which our captors, before meddling with us, cut the animals loose with +their <i>machetés</i> or swords, and drove them over the brink of the abyss, +where, like the drivers, they vanished. Then a dusky-faced ruffian, with a scar +on his cheek, came to the door of the diligence and bowing politely beckoned to +us to come out. As there were at least a dozen of them and resistance was +useless, even if our companions could have found the courage to fight, we +obeyed, and were placed before the brigands in a line, our backs being set to +the edge of the gulf. I was last but one in the line, and beyond me stood Emma +Becker, whose hand I held. +</p> + +<p> +Then the tragedy began. Several of the villains seized the first merchant, and, +stopping his cries and protestations with a blow in the mouth, stripped him to +the shirt, abstracting notes and gold and everything else of value that they +could find in various portions of his attire where he had hidden them, and +principally, I remember, from the lining of his vest. When they had done with +him, they dragged him away and bundled him roughly into the diligence. +</p> + +<p> +Next to this merchant stood the two priests. Of the first of these the brigands +asked a question, to which, with some hesitation, the priest—that man who +had shown so much terror—replied in the affirmative, whereon his +companion looked at him contemptuously and muttered a Spanish phrase which +means “Man without shame.” Of him also the same question was asked, +in answer to which he shook his head, whereon he was conducted, though without +violence or being searched, to the coach, and shut into it with the plundered +merchant. Then the thieves went to work with the next victim. +</p> + +<p> +“Dr. Therne,” whispered Emma Becker, “you have a pistol, do +you not?” +</p> + +<p> +I nodded my head. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you lend it me? You understand?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” I answered, “I understand, but I hope that things are +not so bad as that.” +</p> + +<p> +“They are,” she answered with a quiver in her voice. “I have +heard about these Mexican brigands. With the exception of that priest and +myself they will put all of you into the coach and push it over the +precipice.” +</p> + +<p> +At her words my heart stood still and a palpable mist gathered before my eyes. +When it cleared away my brain seemed to awake to an abnormal activity, as +though the knowledge that unless it was used to good effect now it would never +be used again were spurring it to action. Rapidly I reviewed the situation and +considered every possible method of escape. At first I could think of none; +then suddenly I remembered that the driver and his companion, who no doubt knew +every inch of the road, had leaped from the coach, apparently over the edge of +the precipice. This I felt sure they would not have done had they been going to +certain death, since they would have preferred to take their chance of mercy at +the hands of the brigands. Moreover, these gentry themselves had driven the +mules into the abyss whither those wise animals would never have gone unless +there was some foothold for them. +</p> + +<p> +I looked behind me but could discover nothing, for, as is common in Mexico at +the hour of dawn, the gulf was absolutely filled with dense vapours. Then I +made up my mind that I would risk it and began to shuffle slowly backwards. +Already I was near the edge when I remembered Emma Becker and paused to +reflect. If I took her with me it would considerably lessen my chances of +escape, and at any rate her life was not threatened. But I had not given her +the pistol, and at that moment even in my panic there rose before me a vision +of her face as I had seen it in the lamplight when she looked up at the glory +shining on the crest of Orizaba. +</p> + +<p> +Had it not been for this vision I think it possible that I might have left her. +I wish to gloze over nothing; I did not make my own nature, and in these pages +I describe it as it was and is without palliation or excuse. I know that this +is not the fashion in autobiographies; no one has done it since the time of +Pepys, who did not write for publication, and for that very reason my record +has its value. I am physically and, perhaps morally also, timid—that is, +although I have faced it boldly enough upon occasion, as the reader will learn +in the course of my history, I fear the thought of death, and especially of +cruel and violent death, such as was near to me at that moment. So much did I +fear it then that the mere fact that an acquaintance was in danger and distress +would scarcely have sufficed to cause me to sacrifice, or at least to greatly +complicate, my own chances of escape in order to promote hers simply because +that acquaintance was of the other sex. But Emma had touched a new chord in my +nature, and I felt, whether I liked it or not, that whatever I could do for +myself I must do for her also. So I shuffled forward again. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen,” I whispered, “I have been to look and I do not +believe that the cliff is very steep just here. Will you try it with me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course,” she answered; “I had as soon die of a broken +neck as in any other way.” +</p> + +<p> +“We must watch our chance then, or they will see us run and shoot. Wait +till I give you the signal.” +</p> + +<p> +She nodded her head and we waited. +</p> + +<p> +At length, while the fourth and last merchant, who stood next to me, was being +dealt with, just as in our despair we were about to throw ourselves into the +gulf before them all, fortune gave us our opportunity. This unhappy man, having +probably some inkling of the doom which awaited him, broke suddenly from the +hands of his captors, and ran at full speed down the road. After him they went +pell-mell, every thief of them except one who remained—fortunately for us +upon its farther side—on guard by the door of the diligence in which four +people, three merchants and a priest, were now imprisoned. With laughs and +shouts they hunted their wretched quarry, firing shots as they ran, till at +length one of them overtook the man and cut him down with his <i>macheté</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t look, but come,” I whispered to my companion. +</p> + +<p> +In another instant we were at the edge of the cliff, and a foot or so below us +was spread the dense, impenetrable blanket of mist. I stopped and hesitated, +for the next step might be my last. +</p> + +<p> +“We can’t be worse off, so God help us,” said Emma, and +without waiting for me to lead her she swung herself over the edge. +</p> + +<p> +To my intense relief I heard her alight within a few feet, and followed +immediately. Now I was at her side, and now we were scrambling and slipping +down the precipitous and rocky slope as swiftly as the dense wet fog would let +us. I believe that our escape was quite unnoticed. The guard was watching the +murder of the merchant, or, if he saw us, he did not venture to leave the +carriage door, and the priest who had accepted some offer which was made to +him, probably that his life would be spared if he consented to give absolution +to the murderers, was kneeling on the ground, his face hidden in his hands. +</p> + +<p> +As we went the mist grew thinner, and we could see that we were travelling down +a steep spur of the precipice, which to our left was quite sheer, and that at +the foot of it was a wide plain thickly but not densely covered with trees. In +ten minutes we were at the bottom, and as we could neither see nor hear any +sign of pursuers we paused for an instant to rest. +</p> + +<p> +Not five yards from us the cliff was broken away, and so straight that a cat +could not have climbed it. +</p> + +<p> +“We chose our place well,” I said pointing upwards. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” Emma answered, “we did not choose; it was chosen for +us.” +</p> + +<p> +As she spoke a muffled and terrifying sound of agony reached us from above, and +then, in the layers of vapour that still stretched between us and the sky, we +perceived something huge rushing swiftly down. It appeared; it drew near; it +struck, and fell to pieces like a shattered glass. We ran to look, and there +before us were the fragments of the diligence, and among them the mangled +corpses of five of our fellow-travellers. +</p> + +<p> +This was the fate that we had escaped. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! for God’s sake come away,” moaned Emma, and sick with +horror we turned and ran, or rather reeled, into the shelter of the trees upon +the plain. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap02"></a>CHAPTER II<br/> +THE HACIENDA</h2> + +<p> +“What are those?” said Emma presently, pointing to some animals +that were half hidden by a clump of wild bananas. I looked and saw that they +were two of the mules which the brigands had cut loose from the diligence. +There could be no mistake about this, for the harness still hung to them. +</p> + +<p> +“Can you ride?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +She nodded her head. Then we set to work. Having caught the mules without +difficulty, I took off their superfluous harness and put her on the back of one +of them, mounting the other myself. There was no time to lose, and we both of +us knew it. Just as we were starting I heard a voice behind me calling +“senor.” Drawing the pistol from my pocket, I swung round to find +myself confronted by a Mexican. +</p> + +<p> +“No shoot, senor,” he said in broken English, for this man had +served upon an American ship. “Me driver, Antonio. My mate go down +there,” and he pointed to the precipice; “he dead, me not hurt. You +run from bad men, me run too, for presently they come look. Where you +go?” +</p> + +<p> +“To Mexico,” I answered. +</p> + +<p> +“No get Mexico, senor; bad men watch road and kill you with +<i>macheté</i> so,” and he made a sweep with his knife, adding +“they not want you live tell soldiers.” +</p> + +<p> +“Listen,” said Emma. “Do you know the <i>hacienda</i>, +Concepcion, by the town of San Jose?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, senora, know it well, the <i>hacienda</i> of Senor Gomez; bring you +there to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then show the way,” I said, and we started towards the hills. +</p> + +<p> +All that day we travelled over mountains as fast as the mules could carry us, +Antonio trotting by our side. At sundown, having seen nothing more of the +brigands, who, I suppose, took it for granted that we were dead or were too +idle to follow us far, we reached an Indian hut, where we contrived to buy some +wretched food consisting of black <i>frijole</i> beans and <i>tortilla</i> +cakes. That night we slept in a kind of hovel made of open poles with a roof of +faggots through which the water dropped on us, for it rained persistently for +several hours. To be more accurate, Emma slept, for my nerves were too +shattered by the recollection of our adventure with the brigands to allow me to +close my eyes. +</p> + +<p> +I could not rid my mind of the vision of that coach, broken like an eggshell, +and of those shattered shapes within it that this very morning had been men +full of life and plans, but who to-night were—what? Nor was it easy to +forget that but for the merest chance I might have been one of their company +wherever it was gathered now. To a man with a constitutional objection to every +form of violence, and, at any rate in those days, no desire to search out the +secrets of Death before his time, the thought was horrible. +</p> + +<p> +Leaving the shelter at dawn I found Antonio and the Indian who owned the hut +conversing together in the reeking mist with their <i>serapes</i> thrown across +their mouths, which few Mexicans leave uncovered until after the sun is up. +Inflammation of the lungs is the disease they dread more than any other, and +the thin night air engenders it. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it, Antonio?” I asked. “Are the brigands after +us?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, senor, hope brigands not come now. This senor say much sick San +Jose.” +</p> + +<p> +I answered that I was very sorry to hear it, but that I meant to go on; indeed, +I think that it was only terror of the brigands coupled with the promise of a +considerable reward which persuaded him to do so, though, owing to my ignorance +of Spanish and his very slight knowledge of English, precisely what he feared I +could not discover. In the end we started, and towards evening Antonio pointed +out to us the <i>hacienda</i> of Concepcion, a large white building standing on +a hill which overshadowed San Jose, a straggling little place, half-town, +half-village, with a population of about 3,000 inhabitants. +</p> + +<p> +Just as, riding along the rough cobble-paved road, we reached the entrance to +the town, I heard shouts, and, turning, saw two mounted men with rifles in +their hands apparently calling to us to come back. Taking it for granted that +these were the brigands following us up, although, as I afterwards discovered, +they were in fact <i>rurales</i> or cavalry-police, despite the remonstrances +of Antonio I urged the jaded mules forward at a gallop. Thereupon the +<i>rurales</i>, who had pulled up at a spot marked by a white stone, turned and +rode away. +</p> + +<p> +We were now passing down the central street of the town, which I noticed seemed +very deserted. As we drew near to the <i>plaza</i> or market square we met a +cart drawn by two mules and led by a man who had a <i>serape</i> wrapped about +his nose and mouth as though it were still the hour before the dawn. Over the +contents of this cart a black cloth was thrown, beneath which were outlined +shapes that suggested—but, no, it could not be. Only why did Antonio +cross himself and mutter <i>Muerte!</i> or some such word? +</p> + +<p> +Now we were in the <i>plaza</i>. This <i>plaza</i>, where in happier times the +band would play, for all Mexicans are musical, and the population of San Jose +was wont to traffic in the day and enjoy itself at night, was bordered by an +arched colonnade. In its centre stood a basin of water flowing from a stone +fountain of quaint and charming design. +</p> + +<p> +“Look at all those people sleeping,” said Emma, as we passed five +or six forms that, very small and quiet, lay each under a blanket beneath one +of the arches. “Why, there are a lot more just lying down over there. +What funny folk to go to bed in public in the afternoon,” and she pointed +to a number of men, women and children who seemed to be getting up, throwing +themselves down and turning round and round upon mattresses and beds of leaves +in the shadow of the arcade which we approached. +</p> + +<p> +Presently we were within three paces of this arcade, and as we rode up an aged +hag drew a blanket from one of the prostrate forms, revealing a young woman, +over whom she proceeded to pour water that she had drawn from a fountain. One +glance was enough for me. The poor creature’s face was shapeless with +confluent smallpox, and her body a sight which I will not describe. I, who was +a doctor, could not be mistaken, although, as it chanced, I had never seen a +case of smallpox before. The truth is that, although I have no fear of any +other human ailment, smallpox has always terrified me. +</p> + +<p> +For this I am not to blame. The fear is a part of my nature, instilled into it +doubtless by the shock which my mother received before my birth when she +learned that her husband had been attacked by this horrible sickness. So great +and vivid was my dread that I refused a very good appointment at a smallpox +hospital, and, although I had several opportunities of attending these cases, I +declined to undertake them, and on this account suffered somewhat in reputation +among those who knew the facts. Indeed, my natural abhorrence went even +further, as, to this day, it is only with something of an effort that I can +bring myself to inspect the vesicles caused by vaccination. Whether this is +because of their similarity to those of smallpox, or owing to the natural +association which exists between them, I cannot tell. That it is real enough, +however, may be judged by the fact that, terrified as I was at smallpox, and +convinced as I have always been of the prophylactic power of vaccination, I +could never force myself—until an occasion to be told of—to submit +to it. In infancy, no doubt, I was vaccinated, for the operation has left a +small and very faint cicatrix on my arm, but infantile vaccination, if +unrepeated, is but a feeble protection in later life. +</p> + +<p> +Unconsciously I pulled upon the bridle, and the tired mule stopped. +“Malignant smallpox!” I muttered, “and that fool is trying to +treat it with cold water!”[*] +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*] Readers of Prescott may remember that when this terrible disease was first +introduced by a negro slave of Navaez, and killed out millions of the +population of Mexico, the unfortunate Aztecs tried to treat it with cold water. +Oddly enough, when, some years ago, the writer was travelling in a part of +Mexico where smallpox was prevalent, it came to his notice that this system is +still followed among the Indians, as they allege, with good results. +</p> + +<p> +The old woman looked up and saw me. “Si, Senor Inglese,” she said +with a ghastly smile, “<i>viruela, viruela!</i>” and she went on +gabbling something which I could not understand. +</p> + +<p> +“She say,” broke in Antonio, “nearly quarter people dead and +plenty sick.” +</p> + +<p> +“For Heaven’s sake, let us get out of this,” I said to Emma, +who, seated on the other mule, was staring horror-struck at the sight. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” she said, “you are a doctor; can’t you help the +poor things?” +</p> + +<p> +“What! and leave you to shift for yourself?” +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind me, Dr. Therne. I can go on to the <i>hacienda</i>, or if you +like I will stay too; I am not afraid, I was revaccinated last year.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be foolish,” I answered roughly. “I could not +dream of exposing you to such risks, also it is impossible for me to do any +good here alone and without medicines. Come on at once,” and seizing her +mule by the bridle I led it along the road that ran through the town towards +the <i>hacienda</i> on the height above. +</p> + +<p> +Ten minutes later we were riding in the great courtyard. The place seemed +strangely lifeless and silent; indeed, the plaintive mewing of a cat was the +only sound to be heard. Presently, however, a dog appeared out of an open +doorway. It was a large animal of the mastiff breed, such as might have been +expected to bark and become aggressive to strangers. But this it did not do; +indeed, it ran forward and greeted us affectionately. We dismounted and knocked +at the double door, but no one answered. Finally we entered, and the truth +became clear to us—the <i>hacienda</i> was deserted. A little burial +ground attached to the chapel told us why, for in it were several freshly-made +graves, evidently of <i>peons</i> or other servants, and in an enclosure, where +lay interred some departed members of the Gomez family, another unsodded mound. +We discovered afterwards that it was that of the Senor Gomez, Emma’s +uncle by marriage. +</p> + +<p> +“The footsteps of smallpox,” I said, pointing to the graves; +“we must go on.” +</p> + +<p> +Emma was too overcome to object, for she believed that it was her aunt who +slept beneath that mound, so once more we mounted the weary mules. But we did +not get far. Within half a mile of the <i>hacienda</i> we were met by two armed +<i>rurales</i>, who told us plainly that if we attempted to go further they +would shoot. +</p> + +<p> +Then we understood. We had penetrated a smallpox cordon, and must stop in it +until forty days after the last traces of the disease had vanished. This, in a +wild part of Mexico, where at that time vaccination was but little practised +and medical assistance almost entirely lacking, would not be until half or more +of the unprotected population was dead and many of the remainder were blinded, +deafened or disfigured. +</p> + +<p> +Back we crept to the deserted <i>hacienda</i>, and there in this hideous nest +of smallpox we took up our quarters, choosing out of the many in the great pile +sleeping rooms that had evidently not been used for months or years. Food we +did not lack, for sheep and goats were straying about untended, while in the +garden we found fruit and vegetables in plenty, and in the pantries flour and +other stores. +</p> + +<p> +At first Emma was dazed and crushed by fatigue and emotion, but she recovered +her spirits after a night’s sleep and on learning from Antonio, who was +told it by some <i>peon</i>, that it was not her aunt that the smallpox had +killed, but her uncle by marriage, whom she had never seen. Having no fear of +the disease, indeed, she became quite resigned and calm, for the strangeness +and novelty of the position absorbed and interested her. Also, to my alarm, it +excited her philanthropic instincts, her great idea being to turn the +<i>hacienda</i> into a convalescent smallpox hospital, of which she was to be +the nurse and I the doctor. Indeed she refused to abandon this mad scheme until +I pointed out that in the event of any of our patients dying, most probably we +should both be murdered for wizards with the evil eye. As a matter of fact, +without medicine or assistance we could have done little or nothing. +</p> + +<p> +Oh, what a pestilence was that of which for three weeks or so we were the daily +witnesses, for from the flat roof of the <i>hacienda</i> we could see straight +on to the <i>plaza</i> of the little town. And when at night we could not see, +still we could hear the wails of the dying and bereaved, the eternal clang of +the church bells, rung to scare away the demon of disease, and the midnight +masses chanted by the priests, that grew faint and fainter as their brotherhood +dwindled, until at last they ceased. And so it went on in the tainted, stricken +place until the living were not enough to bury the dead, or to do more than +carry food and water to the sick. +</p> + +<p> +It would seem that about twelve years before a philanthropic American +enthusiast, armed with a letter of recommendation from whoever at that date was +President of Mexico, and escorted by a small guard, descended upon San Jose to +vaccinate it. For a few days all went well, for the enthusiast was a good +doctor, who understood how to treat ophthalmia and to operate for squint, both +of which complaints were prevalent in San Jose. Then his first vaccination +patients developed vesicles, and the trouble began. The end of the matter was +that the local priests, a very ignorant class of men, interfered, declaring +that smallpox was a trial sent from Heaven which it was impious to combat, and +that in any case vaccination was the worse disease of the two. +</p> + +<p> +As the <i>viruela</i> had scarcely visited San Jose within the memory of man +and the vesicles looked alarming, the population, true children of the Church, +agreed with their pastors, and, from purely religious motives, hooted and +stoned the philanthropic “Americano” and his guard out of the +district. Now they and their innocent children were reaping the fruits of the +piety of these conscientious objectors. +</p> + +<p> +After the first fortnight this existence in an atmosphere of disease became +absolutely terrible to me. Not an hour of the day passed that I did not imagine +some symptom of smallpox, and every morning when we met at breakfast I glanced +at Emma with anxiety. The shadow of the thing lay deep upon my nerves, and I +knew well that if I stopped there much longer I should fall a victim to it in +the body. In this emergency, by means of Antonio, I opened negotiations with +the officer of the <i>rurales</i>, and finally, after much secret bargaining, +it was arranged that in consideration of a sum of two hundred dollars—for +by good luck I had escaped from the brigands with my money—our flight +through the cordon of guards should not be observed in the darkness. +</p> + +<p> +We were to start at nine o’clock on a certain night. At a quarter to that +hour I went to the stable to see that everything was ready, and in the +courtyard outside of it found Antonio seated against the water tank groaning +and writhing with pains in the back. One looked showed me that he had developed +the usual symptoms, so, feeling that no time was to be lost, I saddled the +mules myself and took them round. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is Antonio?” asked Emma as she mounted. +</p> + +<p> +“He has gone on ahead,” I answered, “to be sure that the road +is clear; he will meet us beyond the mountains.” +</p> + +<p> +Poor Antonio! I wonder what became of him; he was a good fellow, and I hope +that he recovered. It grieved me much to leave him, but after all I had my own +safety to think of, and still more that of Emma, who had grown very dear to me. +Perhaps one day I shall find him “beyond the mountains,” but, if +so, that is a meeting from which I expect no joy. +</p> + +<p> +The rest of our journey was strange enough, but it has nothing to do with this +history. Indeed, I have only touched upon these long past adventures in a far +land because they illustrate the curious fatality by the workings of which +every important event of my life has taken place under the dreadful shadow of +smallpox. I was born under that shadow, I wedded under it, I—but the rest +shall be told in its proper order. +</p> + +<p> +In the end we reached Mexico City in safety, and there Emma and I were married. +Ten days later we were on board ship steaming for England. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap03"></a>CHAPTER III<br/> +SIR JOHN BELL</h2> + +<p> +Now it is that I came to the great and terrible event of my life, which in its +result turned me into a false witness and a fraud, and bound upon my spirit a +weight of blood-guiltiness greater than a man is often called upon to bear. As +I have not scrupled to show I have constitutional weaknesses—more, I am a +sinner, I know it; I have sinned against the code of my profession, and have +preached a doctrine I knew to be false, using all my skill and knowledge to +confuse and pervert the minds of the ignorant. And yet I am not altogether +responsible for these sins, which in truth in the first place were forced upon +me by shame and want and afterwards by the necessities of my ambition. Indeed, +in that dark and desperate road of deceit there is no room to turn; the step +once taken can never be retraced. +</p> + +<p> +But if I have sinned, how much greater is the crime of the man who swore away +my honour and forced me through those gateways? Surely on his head and not on +mine should rest the burden of my deeds; yet he prospered all his life, and I +have been told that his death was happy and painless. This man’s career +furnishes one of the few arguments that to my sceptical mind suggest the +existence of a place of future reward and punishment, for how is it possible +that so great a villain should reap no fruit from his rich sowing of villainy? +If it is possible, then verily this world is the real hell wherein the wicked +are lords and the good their helpless and hopeless slaves. +</p> + +<p> +Emma Becker when she became my wife brought with her a small dowry of about +five thousand dollars, or a thousand pounds, and this sum we both agreed would +be best spent in starting me in professional life. It was scarcely sufficient +to enable me to buy a practice of the class which I desired, so I determined +that I would set to work to build one up, as with my ability and record I was +certain that I could do. By preference, I should have wished to begin in +London, but there the avenue to success is choked, and I had not the means to +wait until by skill and hard work I could force my way along it. +</p> + +<p> +London being out of the question, I made up my mind to try my fortune in the +ancient city of Dunchester, where the name of Therne was still remembered, as +my grandfather and father had practised there before me. I journeyed to the +place and made inquiries, to find that, although there were plenty of medical +men of a sort, there was only one whose competition I had cause to fear. Of the +others, some had no presence, some no skill, and some no character; indeed, one +of them was known to drink. +</p> + +<p> +With Sir John Bell, whose good fortune it was to be knighted in recognition of +his attendance upon a royal duchess who chanced to contract the measles while +staying in the town, the case was different. He began life as assistant to my +father, and when his health failed purchased the practice from him for a +miserable sum, which, as he was practically in possession, my father was +obliged to accept. From that time forward his success met with no check. By no +means a master of his art, Sir John supplied with assurance what he lacked in +knowledge, and atoned for his mistakes by the readiness of a bluff and +old-fashioned sympathy that was transparent to few. +</p> + +<p> +In short, if ever a <i>faux bonhomme</i> existed, Sir John Bell was the man. +Needless to say he was as popular as he was prosperous. Such of the practice of +Dunchester as was worth having soon fell into his hands, and few indeed were +the guineas that slipped out of his fingers into the pocket of a poorer +brother. Also, he had a large consulting connection in the county. But if his +earnings were great so were his spendings, for it was part of his system to +accept civic and magisterial offices and to entertain largely in his official +capacities. This meant that the money went out as fast as it came in, and that, +however much was earned, more was always needed. +</p> + +<p> +When I visited Dunchester to make inquiries I made a point of calling on Sir +John, who received me in his best “heavy-father” manner, taking +care to inform me that he was keeping Lord So-and-so waiting in his +consulting-room in order to give me audience. Going straight to the point, I +told him that I thought of starting to practise in Dunchester, which +information, I could see, pleased him little. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, my dear boy,” he said, “you being your +father’s son I should be delighted, and would do everything in my power +to help you, but at the same time I must point out that were Galen, or Jenner, +or Harvey to reappear on earth, I doubt if they could make a decent living in +Dunchester.” +</p> + +<p> +“All the same, I mean to have a try, Sir John,” I answered +cheerfully. “I suppose you do not want an assistant, do you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Let me see; I think you said you were married, did you not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” I answered, well knowing that Sir John, having disposed of +his elder daughter to an incompetent person of our profession, who had become +the plague of his life, was desirous of putting the second to better use. +</p> + +<p> +“No, my dear boy, no, I have an assistant already,” and he sighed, +this time with genuine emotion. “If you come here you will have to stand +upon your own legs.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite so, Sir John, but I shall still hope for a few crumbs from the +master’s table.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, Therne, in anything of that sort you may rely upon me,” +and he bowed me out with an effusive smile. +</p> + +<p> +“—— to poison the crumbs,” I thought to myself, for I +was never for one moment deceived as to this man’s character. +</p> + +<p> +A fortnight later Emma and I came to Dunchester and took up our abode in a +quaint red-brick house of the Queen Anne period, which we hired for a not +extravagant rent of 80 pounds a year. Although the position of this house was +not fashionable, nothing could have been more suitable from a doctor’s +point of view, as it stood in a little street near the market-place and +absolutely in the centre of the city. Moreover, it had two beautiful reception +chambers on the ground floor, oak-panelled, and with carved Adam’s +mantelpieces, which made excellent waiting-rooms for patients. Some time +passed, however, and our thousand pounds, in which the expense of furnishing +had made a considerable hole, was melting rapidly before those rooms were put +to a practical use. Both I and my wife did all that we could to get practice. +We called upon people who had been friends of my father and grandfather; we +attended missionary and other meetings of a non-political character; regardless +of expense we went so far as to ask old ladies to tea. +</p> + +<p> +They came, they drank the tea and inspected the new furniture; one of them even +desired to see my instruments and when, fearing to give offence, I complied and +produced them, she remarked that they were not nearly so nice as dear Sir +John’s, which had ivory handles. Cheerfully would I have shown her that +if the handles were inferior the steel was quite serviceable, but I swallowed +my wrath and solemnly explained that it was not medical etiquette for a young +doctor to use ivory. +</p> + +<p> +Beginning to despair, I applied for one or two minor appointments in answer to +advertisements inserted by the Board of Guardians and other public bodies. In +each case I was not only unsuccessful, but men equally unknown, though with a +greatly inferior college and hospital record, were chosen over my head. At +length, suspecting that I was not being fairly dealt by, I made inquiries to +discover that at the bottom of all this ill success was none other than Sir +John Bell. It appeared that in several instances, by the shrugs of his thick +shoulders and shakes of his ponderous head, he had prevented my being employed. +Indeed, in the case of the public bodies, with all of which he had authority +either as an official or as an honorary adviser, he had directly vetoed my +appointment by the oracular announcement that, after ample inquiry among +medical friends in London, he had satisfied himself that I was not a suitable +person for the post. +</p> + +<p> +When I had heard this and convinced myself that it was substantially +true—for I was always too cautious to accept the loose and unsifted +gossip of a provincial town—I think that for the first time in my life I +experienced the passion of hate towards a human being. Why should this man who +was so rich and powerful thus devote his energies to the destruction of a +brother practitioner who was struggling and poor? At the time I set it down to +pure malice, into which without doubt it blossomed at last, not understanding +that in the first place on Sir John’s part it was in truth terror born of +his own conscious mediocrity. Like most inferior men, he was quick to recognise +his master, and, either in the course of our conversations or through inquiries +that he made concerning me, he had come to the conclusion that so far as +professional ability was concerned I <i>was</i> his master. Therefore, being a +creature of petty and dishonest mind, he determined to crush me before I could +assert myself. +</p> + +<p> +Now, having ascertained all this beyond reasonable doubt, there were three +courses open to me: to make a public attack upon Sir John, to go away and try +my fortune elsewhere, or to sit still and await events. A more impetuous man +would have adopted the first of these alternatives, but my experience of life, +confirmed as it was by the advice of Emma, who was a shrewd and far-seeing +woman, soon convinced me that if I did so I should have no more chance of +success than would an egg which undertook a crusade against a brick wall. +Doubtless the egg might stain the wall and gather the flies of gossip about its +stain, but the end of it must be that the wall would still stand, whereas the +egg would no longer be an egg. The second plan had more attractions, but my +resources were now too low to allow me to put it into practice. Therefore, +having no other choice, I was forced to adopt the third, and, exercising that +divine patience which characterises the Eastern nations but is so lacking in +our own, to attend humbly upon fate until it should please it to deal to me a +card that I could play. +</p> + +<p> +In time fate dealt to me that card and my long suffering was rewarded, for it +proved a very ace of trumps. It happened thus. +</p> + +<p> +About a year after I arrived in Dunchester I was elected a member of the City +Club. It is a pleasant place, where ladies are admitted to lunch, and I used it +a good deal in the hope of making acquaintances who might be useful to me. +Among the <i>habitués</i> of this club was a certain Major Selby, who, having +retired from the army and being without occupation, was generally to be found +in the smoking or billiard room with a large cigar between his teeth and a +whisky and soda at his side. In face, the Major was florid and what people call +healthy-looking, an appearance that to a doctor’s eye very often conveys +no assurance of physical well-being. Being a genial-mannered man, he would fall +into conversation with whoever might be near to him, and thus I came to be +slightly acquainted with him. In the course of our chats he frequently +mentioned his ailments, which, as might be expected in the case of such a +luxurious liver, were gouty in their origin. +</p> + +<p> +One afternoon when I was sitting alone in the smoking-room, Major Selby came in +and limped to an armchair. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo, Major, have you got the gout again?” I asked jocosely. +</p> + +<p> +“No, doctor; at least that pompous old beggar, Bell, says I +haven’t. My leg has been so confoundedly painful and stiff for the last +few days that I went to see him this morning, but he told me that it was only a +touch of rheumatism, and gave me some stuff to rub it with.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, and did he look at your leg?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not he. He says that he can tell what my ailments are with the width of +the street between us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed,” I said, and some other men coming in the matter dropped. +</p> + +<p> +Four days later I was in the club at the same hour, and again Major Selby +entered. This time he walked with considerable difficulty, and I noticed an +expression of pain and <i>malaise</i> upon his rubicund countenance. He ordered +a whisky and soda from the servant, and then sat down near me. +</p> + +<p> +“Rheumatism no better, Major?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I went to see old Bell about it again yesterday, but he pooh-poohs +it and tells me to go on rubbing in the liniment and get the footman to help +when I am tired. Well, I obeyed orders, but it hasn’t done me much good, +and how the deuce rheumatism can give a fellow a bruise on the leg, I +don’t know.” +</p> + +<p> +“A bruise on the leg?” I said astonished. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, a bruise on the leg, and, if you don’t believe me, look +here,” and, dragging up his trouser, he showed me below the knee a large +inflamed patch of a dusky hue, in the centre of which one of the veins could be +felt to be hard and swollen. +</p> + +<p> +“Has Sir John Bell seen that?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Not he. I wanted him to look at it, but he was in a hurry, and said I +was just like an old woman with a sore on show, so I gave it up.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, if I were you, I’d go home and insist upon his coming to +look at it.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean, doctor?” he asked growing alarmed at my manner. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it is a nasty place, that is all; and I think that when Sir John has +seen it, he will tell you to keep quiet for a few days.” +</p> + +<p> +Major Selby muttered something uncomplimentary about Sir John, and then asked +me if I would come home with him. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t do that as a matter of medical etiquette, but I’ll +see you into a cab. No, I don’t think I should drink that whisky if I +were you, you want to keep yourself cool and quiet.” +</p> + +<p> +So Major Selby departed in his cab and I went home, and, having nothing better +to do, turned up my notes on various cases of venous thrombosis, or blood-clot +in the veins, which I had treated at one time or another. +</p> + +<p> +While I was still reading them there came a violent ring at the bell, followed +by the appearance of a very agitated footman, who gasped out:— +</p> + +<p> +“Please, sir, come to my master, Major Selby, he has been taken +ill.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t, my good man,” I answered, “Sir John Bell is +his doctor.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have been to Sir John’s, sir, but he has gone away for two days +to attend a patient in the country, and the Major told me to come for +you.” +</p> + +<p> +Then I hesitated no longer. As we hurried to the house, which was close at +hand, the footman told me that the Major on reaching home took a cup of tea and +sent for a cab to take him to Sir John Bell. As he was in the act of getting +into the cab, suddenly he fell backwards and was picked up panting for breath, +and carried into the dining-room. By this time we had reached the house, of +which the door was opened as we approached it by Mrs. Selby herself, who seemed +in great distress. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t talk now, but take me to your husband,” I said, and +was led into the dining-room, where the unfortunate man lay groaning on the +sofa. +</p> + +<p> +“Glad you’ve come,” he gasped. “I believe that fool, +Bell, has done for me.” +</p> + +<p> +Asking those present in the room, a brother and a grown-up son of the patient, +to stand back, I made a rapid examination; then I wrote a prescription and sent +it round to the chemist—it contained ammonia, I remember—and +ordered hot fomentations to be placed upon the leg. While these matters were +being attended to I went with the relations into another room. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the matter with him, doctor?” asked Mrs. Selby. +</p> + +<p> +“It is, I think, a case of what is called blood-clot, which has formed in +the veins of the leg,” I answered. “Part of this clot has been +detached by exertion, or possibly by rubbing, and, travelling upwards, has +become impacted in one of the pulmonary arteries.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it serious?” asked the poor wife. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course we must hope for the best,” I said; “but it is my +duty to tell you that I do not myself think Major Selby will recover; how long +he will last depends upon the size of the clot which has got into the +artery.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, this is ridiculous,” broke in Mr. Selby. “My brother has +been under the care of Sir John Bell, the ablest doctor in Dunchester, who told +him several times that he was suffering from nothing but rheumatism, and now +this gentleman starts a totally different theory, which, if it were true, would +prove Sir John to be a most careless and incompetent person.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am very sorry,” I answered; “I can only hope that Sir John +is right and I am wrong. So that there may be no subsequent doubt as to what I +have said, with your leave I will write down my diagnosis and give it to +you.” +</p> + +<p> +When this was done I returned to the patient, and Mr. Selby, taking my +diagnosis, telegraphed the substance of it to Sir John Bell for his opinion. In +due course the answer arrived from Sir John, regretting that there was no train +by which he could reach Dunchester that night, giving the name of another +doctor who was to be called in, and adding, incautiously enough, “Dr. +Therne’s diagnosis is purely theoretical and such as might be expected +from an inexperienced man.” +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile the unfortunate Major was dying. He remained conscious to the last, +and, in spite of everything that I could do, suffered great pain. Amongst other +things he gave an order that a <i>post-mortem</i> examination should be made to +ascertain the cause of his death. +</p> + +<p> +When Mr. Selby had read the telegram from Sir John he handed it to me, saying, +“It is only fair that you should see this.” +</p> + +<p> +I read it, and, having asked for and obtained a copy, awaited the arrival of +the other doctor before taking my departure. When at length he came Major Selby +was dead. +</p> + +<p> +Two days later the <i>post-mortem</i> was held. There were present at it Sir +John Bell, myself, and the third <i>medico</i>, Dr. Jeffries. It is unnecessary +to go into details, but in the issue I was proved to be absolutely right. Had +Sir John taken the most ordinary care and precaution his patient need not have +died—indeed, his death was caused by the treatment. The rubbing of the +leg detached a portion of the clot, that might easily have been dissolved by +rest and local applications. As it was, it went to his lung, and he died. +</p> + +<p> +When he saw how things were going, Sir John tried to minimise matters, but, +unfortunately for him, I had my written diagnosis and a copy of his telegram, +documents from which he could not escape. Nor could he deny the results of the +<i>post-mortem</i>, which took place in the presence and with the assistance of +the third practitioner, a sound and independent, though not a very successful, +man. +</p> + +<p> +When everything was over there was something of a scene. Sir John asserted that +my conduct had been impertinent and unprofessional. I replied that I had only +done my duty and appealed to Dr. Jeffries, who remarked drily that we had to +deal not with opinions and theories but with facts and that the facts seemed to +bear me out. On learning the truth, the relatives, who until now had been +against me, turned upon Sir John and reproached him in strong terms, after +which they went away leaving us face to face. There was an awkward silence, +which I broke by saying that I was sorry to have been the unwilling cause of +this unpleasantness. +</p> + +<p> +“You may well be sorry, sir,” Sir John answered in a cold voice +that was yet alive with anger, “seeing that by your action you have +exposed me to insult, I who have practised in this city for over thirty years, +and who was your father’s partner before you were in your cradle. Well, +it is natural to youth to be impertinent. To-day the laugh is yours, Dr. +Therne, to-morrow it may be mine; so good-afternoon, and let us say no more +about it,” and brushing by me rudely he passed from the house. +</p> + +<p> +I followed him into the street watching his thick square form, of which even +the back seemed to express sullen anger and determination. At a distance of a +few yards stood the brother of the dead man, Mr. Selby, talking to Dr. +Jeffries, one of whom made some remark that caught Sir John’s ear. He +stopped as though to answer, then, changing his mind, turned his head and +looked back at me. My sight is good and I could see his face clearly; on it was +a look of malignity that was not pleasant to behold. +</p> + +<p> +“I have made a bad enemy,” I thought to myself; “well, I am +in the right; one must take risks in life, and it is better to be hated than +despised.” +</p> + +<p> +Major Selby was a well-known and popular man, whose sudden death had excited +much sympathy and local interest, which were intensified when the circumstances +connected with it became public property. +</p> + +<p> +On the following day the leading city paper published a report of the results +of the <i>post-mortem</i>, which doubtless had been furnished by the relatives, +and with it an editorial note. +</p> + +<p> +In this paragraph I was spoken of in very complimentary terms; my medical +distinctions were alluded to, and the confident belief was expressed that +Dunchester would not be slow to avail itself of my skill and talent. Sir John +Bell was not so lightly handled. His gross error of treatment in the case of +the deceased was, it is true, slurred over, but some sarcastic and disparaging +remarks were aimed at him under cover of comparison between the old and the new +school of medical practitioners. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap04"></a>CHAPTER IV<br/> +STEPHEN STRONG GOES BAIL</h2> + +<p> +Great are the uses of advertisement! When I went into my consulting-room after +breakfast that day I found three patients waiting to see me, one of them a +member of a leading family in the city. +</p> + +<p> +Here was the beginning of my success. Whatever time may remain to me, to-day in +a sense my life is finished. I am a broken-hearted and discomfited man, with +little more to fear and nothing to hope. Therefore I may be believed when I say +that in these pages I set down the truth and nothing but the truth, not +attempting to palliate my conduct where it has been wrong, nor to praise myself +even when praise may have been due. Perhaps, then, it will not be counted +conceit when I write that in my best days I was really a master of my trade. To +my faculty for diagnosis I have, I think, alluded; it amounted to a +gift—a touch or two of my fingers would often tell me what other doctors +could not discover by prolonged examination. To this I added a considerable +mastery of the details of my profession, and a sympathetic insight into +character, which enabled me to apply my knowledge to the best advantage. +</p> + +<p> +When a patient came to me and told me that his symptoms were this or that or +the other, I began by studying the man and forming my own conclusions as to his +temperament, character, and probable past. It was this method of mine of +studying the individual as a whole and his ailment as something springing from +and natural to his physical and spiritual entity that, so far as general +principles can be applied to particular instances, often gave me a grip of the +evil, and enabled me, by dealing with the generating cause, to strike at its +immediate manifestation. My axiom was that in the human subject mind is king; +the mind commands, the body obeys. From this follows the corollary that the +really great doctor, however trivial the complaint, should always begin by +trying to understand the mind of his patient, to follow the course of its +workings, and estimate their results upon his physical nature. +</p> + +<p> +Necessarily there are many cases to which this rule does not seem to apply, +those of contagious sickness, for instance, or those of surgery, resulting from +accident. And yet even there it does apply, for the condition of the mind may +predispose to infection, and to recovery or collapse in the instance of the +sufferer from injuries. But these questions of predisposition and consequence +are too great to argue here, though even the most rule-of-thumb village +practitioner, with a black draught in one hand and a pot of ointment in the +other, will agree that they admit of a wide application. +</p> + +<p> +At least it is to these primary principles over and above my technical skill +that I attribute my success while I was successful. That at any rate was +undoubted. Day by day my practice grew, to such an extent indeed, that on +making up my books at the end of the second year, I found that during the +preceding twelve months I had taken over 900 pounds in fees and was owed about +300 pounds more. Most of this balance, however, I wrote off as a bad debt, +since I made it a custom never to refuse a patient merely because he might not +be able to pay me. I charged large fees, for a doctor gains nothing by being +cheap, but if I thought it inexpedient I did not attempt to collect them. +</p> + +<p> +After this matter of the inquest on Major Selby the relations between Sir John +Bell and myself were very strained—in fact, for a while he refused to +meet me in consultation. When this happened, without attempting to criticise +his action, I always insisted upon retiring from the case, saying that it was +not for me, a young man, to stand in the path of one of so great experience and +reputation. As might be expected this moderation resulted in my triumph, for +the time came when Sir John thought it wise to waive his objections and to +recognise me professionally. Then I knew that I had won the day, for in that +equal field I was his master. Never once that I can remember did he venture to +reverse or even to cavil at my treatment, at any rate in my presence, though +doubtless he criticised it freely elsewhere. +</p> + +<p> +And so I flourished, and as I waxed he waned, until, calculating my chances +with my wife, I was able to prophesy that if no accident or ill-chance occurred +to stop me, within another three years I should be the leading practitioner in +Dunchester, while Sir John Bell would occupy the second place. +</p> + +<p> +But I had reckoned without his malice, for, although I knew this to be +inveterate, I had underrated its probable effects, and in due course the +ill-chance happened. It came about in this wise. +</p> + +<p> +When we had been married something over two years my wife found herself +expecting to become a mother. As the event drew near she expressed great +anxiety that I should attend upon her. To this, however, I objected +strenuously—first, because I cannot bear to see any one to whom I am +attached suffer pain, and, secondly, because I knew that my affection and +personal anxiety would certainly unnerve me. Except in cases of the utmost +necessity no man, in my opinion, should doctor himself or his family. Whilst I +was wondering how to arrange matters I chanced to meet Sir John Bell in +consultation. After our business was over, developing an unusual geniality of +manner, he proposed to walk a little way with me. +</p> + +<p> +“I understand, my dear Therne,” he said, “that there is an +interesting event expected in your family.” +</p> + +<p> +I replied that this was so. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” he went on, “though we may differ on some points, I +am sure there is one upon which we shall agree—that no man should doctor +his own flesh and blood. Now, look here, I want you to let me attend upon your +good wife. However much you go-ahead young fellows may turn up your noses at us +old fossils, I think you will admit that by this time I ought to be able to +show a baby into the world, especially as I had the honour of performing that +office for yourself, my young friend.” +</p> + +<p> +For a moment I hesitated. What Sir John said was quite true; he was a sound and +skilful obstetrician of the old school. Moreover, he evidently intended to hold +out the olive branch by this kind offer, which I felt that I ought to accept. +Already, having conquered in the fray, I forgave him the injuries that he had +worked me. It is not in my nature to bear unnecessary malice—indeed, I +hate making or having an enemy. And yet I hesitated, not from any premonition +or presentiment of the dreadful events that were to follow, but simply because +of my wife’s objection to being attended by any one but myself. I thought +of advancing this in excuse of a refusal, but checked myself, because I was +sure that he would interpret it as a rebuff, and in consequence hate me more +bitterly than ever. So in the end I accepted his offer gratefully, and we +parted. +</p> + +<p> +When I told Emma she was a little upset, but being a sensible woman she soon +saw the force of my arguments and fell in with the situation. In truth, +unselfish creature that she was, she thought more of the advantage that would +accrue to me by this formal burying of the hatchet than of her own prejudices +or convenience. +</p> + +<p> +The time came and with it Sir John Bell, large, sharp-eyed, and jocose. In due +course and under favourable conditions a daughter was born to me, a very +beautiful child, fair like her mother, but with my dark eyes. +</p> + +<p> +I think it was on the fourth day from the birth of the child that I went after +luncheon to see my wife, who so far had done exceedingly well. I found her +depressed, and she complained of headache. Just then the servant arrived saying +that I was wanted in the consulting-room, so I kissed Emma and, after arranging +her bed-clothing and turning her over so that she might lie more comfortably, I +hurried downstairs, telling her that she had better go to sleep. +</p> + +<p> +While I was engaged with my visitor Sir John Bell came to see my wife. Just as +the patient had gone and Sir John was descending the stairs a messenger hurried +in with a note summoning me instantly to attend upon Lady Colford, the wife of +a rich banker and baronet who, I knew, was expecting her first confinement. +Seizing my bag I started, and, as I reached the front door, I thought that I +heard Sir John, who was now nearly at the foot of the stairs, call out +something to me. I answered that I couldn’t stop but would see him later, +to which I understood him to reply “All right.” +</p> + +<p> +This was about three o’clock in the afternoon, but so protracted and +anxious was the case of Lady Colford that I did not reach home again till +eight. Having swallowed a little food, for I was thoroughly exhausted, I went +upstairs to see my wife. Entering the room softly I found that she was asleep, +and that the nurse also was dozing on the sofa in the dressing-room. Fearing to +disturb them, I kissed her lips, and going downstairs returned at once to Sir +Thomas Colford’s house, where I spent the entire night in attendance on +his wife. +</p> + +<p> +When I came home again about eight o’clock on the following morning it +was to find Sir John Bell awaiting me in the consulting-room. A glance at his +face told me that there was something dreadfully wrong. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it? Why, what I called after you yesterday, only you +wouldn’t stop to listen, and I haven’t known where to find you +since. It’s puerperal fever, and Heaven knows what gave it to her, for I +don’t. I thought so yesterday, and this morning I am sure of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Puerperal fever,” I muttered, “then I am ruined, whatever +happens to Emma.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t talk like that, man,” answered Sir John, “she +has a capital constitution, and, I daresay, we shall pull her through.” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t understand. I have been attending Lady Colford, going +straight from Emma’s room to her.” +</p> + +<p> +Sir John whistled. “Oh, indeed. Certainly, that’s awkward. Well, we +must hope for the best, and, look you here, when a fellow calls out to you +another time just you stop to listen.” +</p> + +<p> +To dwell on all that followed would serve no good purpose, and indeed what is +the use of setting down the details of so much forgotten misery? In a week my +beloved wife was dead, and in ten days Lady Colford had followed her into the +darkness. Then it was, that to complete my own destruction, I committed an act +of folly, for, meeting Sir John Bell, in my mad grief I was fool enough to tell +him I knew that my wife’s death, and indirectly that of Lady Colford, +were due to his improper treatment and neglect of precautions. +</p> + +<p> +I need not enter into the particulars, but this in fact was the case. +</p> + +<p> +He did not say much in answer to my accusation, but merely replied:— +</p> + +<p> +“I make allowances for you; but, Dr. Therne, it is time that somebody +taught you that people’s reputations cannot be slandered with impunity. +Instead of attacking me I should recommend you to think of defending +yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +Very soon I learned the meaning of this hint. I think it was within a week of +my wife’s funeral that I heard that Sir Thomas Colford, together with all +his relations and those of the deceased lady, were absolutely furious with me. +Awaking from my stupor of grief, I wrote a letter to Sir Thomas expressing my +deep regret at the misfortune that I had been the innocent means of bringing +upon him. To this letter I received a reply by hand, scrawled upon half a sheet +of notepaper. It ran:— +</p> + +<p> +“Sir Thomas Colford is surprised that Dr. Therne should think it worth +while to add falsehood to murder.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, for the first time, I understood in what light my terrible misfortune was +regarded by the public. A few days later I received further enlightenment, this +time from the lips of an inspector of police, who called upon me with a warrant +of arrest on the charge of having done manslaughter on the body of Dame Blanche +Colford. +</p> + +<p> +That night I spent in Dunchester Jail, and next morning I was brought before +the bench of magistrates, who held a special session to try my case. The +chairman, whom I knew well, very kindly asked me if I did not wish for legal +assistance. I replied, “No, I have nothing to defend,” which he +seemed to think a hard saying, at any rate he looked surprised. On the other +side counsel were employed nominally on behalf of the Crown, although in +reality the prosecution, which in such a case was unusual if not unprecedented, +had been set on foot and undertaken by the Colford family. +</p> + +<p> +The “information” was read by the clerk, in which I was charged +with culpable negligence and wilfully doing certain things that caused the +death of Blanche Colford. I stood there in the dock listening, and wondering +what possible evidence could be adduced against me in support of such a charge. +After the formal witnesses, relations and doctors, who testified to my being +called in to attend on Lady Colford, to the course of the illness and the cause +of death, etc., Sir John Bell was called. “Now,” I thought to +myself, “this farce will come to an end, for Bell will explain the +facts.” +</p> + +<p> +The counsel for the prosecution began by asking Sir John various questions +concerning the terrible malady known as puerperal fever, and especially with +reference to its contagiousness. Then he passed on to the events of the day +when I was called in to attend upon Lady Colford. Sir John described how he had +visited my late wife, and, from various symptoms which she had developed +somewhat suddenly, to his grief and surprise, had come to the conclusion that +she had fallen victim to puerperal fever. This evidence, to begin with, was not +true, for although he suspected the ailment on that afternoon he was not sure +of it until the following morning. +</p> + +<p> +“What happened then, Sir John?” asked the counsel. +</p> + +<p> +“Leaving my patient I hurried downstairs to see Dr. Therne, and found him +just stepping from his consulting-room into the hall.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did he speak to you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. He said ‘How do you do?’ and then added, before I could +tell him about his wife, ‘I am rather in luck to-day; they are calling me +in to take Lady Colford’s case.’ I said I was glad to hear it, but +that I thought he had better let some one else attend her ladyship. He looked +astonished, and asked why. I said, ‘Because, my dear fellow, I am afraid +that your wife has developed puerperal fever, and the nurse tells me that you +were in her room not long ago.’ He replied that it was impossible, as he +had looked at her and thought her all right except for a little headache. I +said that I trusted that I might be wrong, but if nearly forty years’ +experience went for anything I was not wrong. Then he flew into a passion, and +said that if anything was the matter with his wife it was my fault, as I must +have brought the contagion or neglected to take the usual antiseptic +precautions. I told him that he should not make such statements without an atom +of proof, but, interrupting me, he declared that, fever or no fever, he would +attend upon Lady Colford, as he could not afford to throw away the best chance +he had ever had. I said, ‘My dear fellow, don’t be mad. Why, if +anything happened to her under the circumstances, I believe that, after I have +warned you, you would be liable to be criminally prosecuted for culpable +negligence.’ ‘Thank you,’ he answered, ‘nothing will +happen to her, I know my own business, and I will take the chance of +that’; and then, before I could speak again, lifting up his bag from the +chair on which he had placed it, he opened the front door and went out.” +</p> + +<p> +I will not attempt, especially after this lapse of years, to describe the +feelings with which I listened to this amazing evidence. The black wickedness +and the cold-blooded treachery of the man overwhelmed and paralysed me, so that +when, after some further testimony, the chairman asked me if I had any +questions to put to the witness, I could only stammer:— +</p> + +<p> +“It is a lie, an infamous lie!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” said the chairman kindly, “if you wish to make a +statement, you will have an opportunity of doing so presently. Have you any +questions to ask the witness?” +</p> + +<p> +I shook my head. How could I question him on such falsehoods? Then came the +nurse, who, amidst a mass of other information, calmly swore that, standing on +the second landing, whither she had accompanied Sir John from his +patient’s room, she heard a lengthy conversation proceeding between him +and me, and caught the words, “I will take the chance of that,” +spoken in my voice. +</p> + +<p> +Again I had no questions to ask, but I remembered that this nurse was a person +who for a long while had been employed by Sir John Bell, and one over whom he +very probably had some hold. +</p> + +<p> +Then I was asked if I had any witness, but, now that my wife was dead, what +witness could I call?—indeed, I could not have called her had she been +alive. Then, having been cautioned in the ordinary form, that whatever I said +might be given as evidence against me at my trial, I was asked if I wished to +make any statement. +</p> + +<p> +I did make a statement of the facts so far as I knew them, adding that the +evidence of Sir John Bell and the nurse was a tissue of falsehoods, and that +the former had been my constant enemy ever since I began to practise in +Dunchester, and more especially since the issue of a certain case, in the +treatment of which I had proved him to be wrong. When my statement had been +taken down and I had signed it, the chairman, after a brief consultation with +his companions, announced that, as those concerned had thought it well to +institute this prosecution, in the face of the uncontradicted evidence of Sir +John Bell the bench had no option but to send me to take my trial at the +Dunchester Assizes, which were to be held on that day month. In order, however, +to avoid the necessity of committing me to jail, they would be prepared to take +bail for my appearance in a sum of 500 pounds from myself, and 500 pounds, in +two sureties of 250 pounds, or one of the whole amount. +</p> + +<p> +Now I looked about me helplessly, for I had no relations in Dunchester, where I +had not lived long enough to form friends sufficiently true to be willing to +thus identify themselves publicly with a man in great trouble. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you for your kindness,” I said, “but I think that I +must go to prison, for I do not know whom to ask to go bail for me.” +</p> + +<p> +As I spoke there was a stir at the back of the crowded court, and an ungentle +voice called out, “I’ll go bail for you, lad.” +</p> + +<p> +“Step forward whoever spoke,” said the clerk, and a man advanced to +the table. +</p> + +<p> +He was a curious and not very healthy-looking person of about fifty years of +age, ill-dressed in seedy black clothes and a flaming red tie, with a fat, pale +face, a pugnacious mouth, and a bald head, on the top of which isolated hairs +stood up stiffly. I knew him by sight, for once he had argued with me at a +lecture I gave on sanitary matters, when I was told that he was a draper by +trade, and, although his shop was by no means among the most important, that he +was believed to be one of the richest men in Dunchester. Also he was a fierce +faddist and a pillar of strength to the advanced wing of the Radical party. +</p> + +<p> +“What is your name?” asked a clerk. +</p> + +<p> +“Look you here, young man,” he answered, “don’t have +the impertinence to try your airs and graces on with me. Seeing that +you’ve owed me 24 pounds 3s. 6d. for the last three years for goods +supplied, you know well enough what my name is, or if you don’t I will +show it to you at the bottom of a county court summons.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is my duty to ask you your name,” responded the disconcerted +clerk when the laughter which this sally provoked had subsided. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, very well. Stephen Strong is my name, and I may tell you that it is +good at the bottom of a cheque for any reasonable amount. Well, I’m here +to go bail for that young man. I know nothing of him except that I put him on +his back in a ditch in an argument we had one night last winter in the +reading-room yonder. I don’t know whether he infected the lady or whether +he didn’t, but I do know, that like most of the poisoning +calf-worshipping crowd who call themselves Vaccinators, this Bell is a liar, +and that if he did, it wasn’t his fault because it was God’s will +that she should die, and he’d a been wrong to try and interfere with Him. +So name your sum and I’ll stand the shot.” +</p> + +<p> +All of this tirade had been said, or rather shouted, in a strident voice and in +utter defiance of the repeated orders of the chairman that he should be silent. +Mr. Stephen Strong was not a person very amenable to authority. Now, however, +when he had finished his say he not only filled in the bail bond but offered to +hand up a cheque for 500 pounds then and there. +</p> + +<p> +When it was over I thanked him, but he only answered:— +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you thank me. I do it because I will not see folk locked up +for this sort of nonsense about diseases and the like, as though the Almighty +who made us don’t know when to send sickness and when to keep it away, +when to make us live and when to make us die. Now do you want any money to +defend yourself with?” +</p> + +<p> +I answered that I did not, and, having thanked him again, we parted without +more words, as I was in no mood to enter into an argument with an enthusiast of +this hopeless, but to me, convenient nature. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap05"></a>CHAPTER V<br/> +THE TRIAL</h2> + +<p> +Although it took place so long ago, I suppose that a good many people still +remember the case of “The Queen <i>versus</i> Therne,” which +attracted a great deal of attention at the time. The prosecution, as I have +said, was set on foot by the relations of the deceased Lady Colford, who, being +very rich and powerful people, were able to secure the advocacy of one of the +most eminent criminal lawyers of the day, with whom were briefed sundry almost +equally eminent juniors. Indeed no trouble or expense was spared that could +help to ensure my conviction. +</p> + +<p> +On my behalf also appeared a well-known Q.C., and with him two juniors. The +judge who tried the case was old and experienced but had the reputation of +being severe, and from its very commencement I could see that the perusal of +the depositions taken in the magistrates’ court, where it will be +remembered I was not defended, had undoubtedly biased his mind against me. As +for the jury, they were a respectable-looking quiet set of men, who might be +relied upon to do justice according to their lights. Of those who were called +from the panel and answered to their names two, by the way, were challenged by +the Crown and rejected because, I was told, they were professed +anti-vaccinationists. +</p> + +<p> +On the appointed day and hour, speaking in a very crowded court, counsel for +the Crown opened the case against me, demonstrating clearly that in the pursuit +of my own miserable ends I had sacrificed the life of a young, high-placed and +lovely fellow-creature, and brought bereavement and desolation upon her husband +and family. Then he proceeded to call evidence, which was practically the same +as that which had been given before the magistrates, although the husband and +Lady Colford’s nurse were examined, and, on my behalf, cross-examined at +far greater length. +</p> + +<p> +After the adjournment for lunch Sir John Bell was put into the witness-box, +where, with a little additional detail, he repeated almost word for word what +he had said before. Listening to him my heart sank, for he made an excellent +witness, quiet, self-contained, and, to all appearance, not a little affected +by the necessity under which he found himself of exposing the evil doings of a +brother practitioner. I noticed with dismay also that his evidence produced a +deep effect upon the minds of all present, judge and jury not excepted. +</p> + +<p> +Then came the cross-examination, which certainly was a brilliant performance, +for under it were shown that from the beginning Sir John Bell had certainly +borne me ill-will; that to his great chagrin I had proved myself his superior +in a medical controversy, and that the fever which my wife contracted was in +all human probability due to his carelessness and want of precautions while in +attendance upon her. When this cross-examination was concluded the court rose +for the day, and, being on bail, I escaped from the dock until the following +morning. +</p> + +<p> +I returned to my house and went up to the nursery to see the baby, who was a +very fine and healthy infant. At first I could scarcely bear to look at this +child, remembering always that indirectly it had been the cause of its dear +mother’s death. But now, when I was so lonely, for even those who called +themselves my friends had fallen away from me in the time of trial, I felt +drawn towards the helpless little thing. +</p> + +<p> +I kissed it and put it back into its cradle, and was about to leave the room +when the nurse, a respectable widow woman with a motherly air, asked me +straight out what were my wishes about the child and by what name it was to be +baptised, seeing that when I was in jail she might not be able to ascertain +them. The good woman’s question made me wince, but, recognising that in +view of eventualities these matters must be arranged, I took a sheet of paper +and wrote down my instructions, which were briefly that the child should be +named Emma Jane after its mother and mine, and that the nurse, Mrs. Baker, +should take it to her cottage, and be paid a weekly sum for its maintenance. +</p> + +<p> +Having settled these disagreeable details I went downstairs, but not to the +dinner that was waiting for me, as after the nurse’s questions I did not +feel equal to facing the other domestics. Leaving the house I walked about the +streets seeking some small eating-place where I could dine without being +recognised. As I wandered along wearily I heard a harsh voice behind me calling +me by name, and, turning, found that the speaker was Mr. Stephen Strong. Even +in the twilight there was no possibility of mistaking his flaming red tie. +</p> + +<p> +“You are worried and tired, doctor,” said the harsh voice. +“Why ain’t you with your friends, instead of tramping the streets +after that long day in court?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I have no friends left,” I answered, for I had arrived at +that stage of humiliation when a man no longer cares to cloak the truth. +</p> + +<p> +A look of pity passed over Mr. Strong’s fat face, and the lines about the +pugnacious mouth softened a little. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that so?” he said. “Well, young man, you’re +learning now what happens to those who put their faith in fashionable folk and +not in the Lord. Rats can’t scuttle from a sinking ship faster than +fashionable folk from a friend in trouble. You come along and have a bit of +supper with me and my missis. We’re humble trades-folk, but, perhaps as +things are, you won’t mind that.” +</p> + +<p> +I accepted Mr. Strong’s invitation with gratitude, indeed his kindness +touched me. Leading me to his principal shop, we passed through it and down a +passage to a sitting-room heavily furnished with solid horsehair-seated chairs +and a sofa. In the exact centre of this sofa, reading by the light of a lamp +with a pink shade which was placed on a table behind her, sat a prim +grey-haired woman dressed in a black silk dress and apron and a lace cap with +lappets. I noticed at once that the right lappet was larger than the left. +Evidently it had been made so with the design of hiding a patch of affected +skin below the ear, which looked to me as though it had been caused by the +malady called lupus. I noticed further that the little woman was reading an +anti-vaccination tract with a fearful picture of a diseased arm upon its cover. +</p> + +<p> +“Martha,” said Mr. Strong, “Dr. Therne, whom they’re +trying at the court yonder, has come in for supper. Dr. Therne, that’s my +wife.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Strong rose and offered her hand. She was a thin person, with rather +refined features, a weak mouth, and kindly blue eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sure you are welcome,” she said in a small monotonous +voice. “Any of Stephen’s friends are welcome, and more especially +those of them who are suffering persecution for the Right.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is not exactly my case, madam,” I answered, “for if I +had done what they accuse me of I should deserve hanging, but I did not do +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe you, doctor,” she said, “for you have true eyes. +Also Stephen says so. But in any case the death of the dear young woman was +God’s will, and if it was God’s will, how can you be +responsible?” +</p> + +<p> +While I was wondering what answer I should make to this strange doctrine a +servant girl announced that supper was ready, and we went into the next room to +partake of a meal, plain indeed, but of most excellent quality. Moreover, I was +glad to find, unlike his wife, who touched nothing but water, that Mr. Strong +did not include teetotalism among his eccentricities. On the contrary, he +produced a bottle of really fine port for my especial benefit. +</p> + +<p> +In the course of our conversation I discovered that the Strongs, who had had no +children, devoted themselves to the propagation of various “fads.” +Mr. Strong indeed was anti-everything, but, which is rather uncommon in such a +man, had no extraneous delusions; that is to say, he was not a Christian +Scientist, or a Blavatskyist, or a Great Pyramidist. Mrs. Strong, however, had +never got farther than anti-vaccination, to her a holy cause, for she set down +the skin disease with which she was constitutionally afflicted to the credit, +or discredit, of vaccination practised upon her in her youth. Outside of this +great and absorbing subject her mind occupied itself almost entirely with that +well-known but most harmless of the crazes, the theory that we Anglo-Saxons are +the progeny of the ten lost Tribes of Israel. +</p> + +<p> +Steering clear of anti-vaccination, I showed an intelligent sympathy with her +views and deductions concerning the ten Tribes, which so pleased the gentle +little woman that, forgetting the uncertainty of my future movements, she +begged me to come and see her as often as I liked, and in the meanwhile +presented me with a pile of literature connected with the supposed wanderings +of the Tribes. Thus began my acquaintance with my friend and benefactress, +Martha Strong. +</p> + +<p> +At ten o’clock on the following morning I returned to the dock, and the +nurse repeated her evidence in corroboration of Sir John’s testimony. A +searching cross-examination showed her not to be a very trustworthy person, but +on this particular point it was impossible to shake her story, because there +was no standing ground from which it could be attacked. Then followed some +expert evidence whereby, amongst other things, the Crown proved to the jury the +fearfully contagious nature of puerperal fever, which closed the case for the +prosecution. After this my counsel, reserving his address, called the only +testimony I was in a position to produce, that of several witnesses to +character and to medical capacity. +</p> + +<p> +When the last of these gentlemen, none of whom were cross-examined, stood down, +my counsel addressed the Court, pointing out that my mouth being closed by the +law of the land—for this trial took place before the passing of the +Criminal Evidence Act—I was unable to go into the box and give on oath my +version of what had really happened in this matter. Nor could I produce any +witnesses to disprove the story which had been told against me, because, +unhappily, no third person was present at the crucial moments. Now, this story +rested entirely on the evidence of Sir John Bell and the nurse, and if it was +true I must be mad as well as bad, since a doctor of my ability would well know +that under the circumstances he would very probably carry contagion, with the +result that a promising professional career might be ruined. Moreover, had he +determined to risk it, he would have taken extra precautions in the sick-room +to which he was called, and this it was proved I had not done. Now the +statement made by me before the magistrates had been put in evidence, and in it +I said that the tale was an absolute invention on the part of Sir John Bell, +and that when I went to see Lady Colford I had no knowledge whatsoever that my +wife was suffering from an infectious ailment. This, he submitted, was the true +version of the story, and he confidently asked the jury not to blast the career +of an able and rising man, but by their verdict to reinstate him in the +position which he had temporarily and unjustly lost. +</p> + +<p> +In reply, the leading counsel for the Crown said that it was neither his wish +nor his duty to strain the law against me, or to put a worse interpretation +upon the facts than they would bear under the strictest scrutiny. He must point +out, however, that if the contention of his learned friend were correct, Sir +John Bell was one of the wickedest villains who ever disgraced the earth. +</p> + +<p> +In summing up the judge took much the same line. The case, that was of a +character upon which it was unusual though perfectly allowable to found a +criminal prosecution, he pointed out, rested solely upon the evidence of Sir +John Bell, corroborated as it was by the nurse. If that evidence was correct, +then, to satisfy my own ambition or greed, I had deliberately risked and, as +the issue showed, had taken the life of a lady who in all confidence was +entrusted to my care. Incredible as such wickedness might seem, the jury must +remember that it was by no means unprecedented. At the same time there was a +point that had been scarcely dwelt upon by counsel to which he would call their +attention. According to Sir John Bell’s account, it was from his lips +that I first learned that my wife was suffering from a peculiarly dangerous +ailment. Yet, in his report of the conversation that followed between us, which +he gave practically verbatim, I had not expressed a single word of surprise and +sorrow at this dreadful intelligence, which to an affectionate husband would be +absolutely overwhelming. As it had been proved by the evidence of the nurse and +elsewhere that my relations with my young wife were those of deep affection, +this struck him as a circumstance so peculiar that he was inclined to think +that in this particular Sir John’s memory must be at fault. +</p> + +<p> +There was, however, a wide difference between assuming that a portion of the +conversation had escaped a witness’s memory and disbelieving all that +witness’s evidence. As the counsel for the Crown had said, if he had not, +as he swore, warned me, and I had not, as he swore, refused to listen to his +warning, then Sir John Bell was a moral monster. That he, Sir John, at the +beginning of my career in Dunchester had shown some prejudice and animus +against me was indeed admitted. Doubtless, being human, he was not pleased at +the advent of a brilliant young rival, who very shortly proceeded to prove him +in the wrong in the instance of one of his own patients, but that he had +conquered this feeling, as a man of generous impulses would naturally do, +appeared to be clear from the fact that he had volunteered to attend upon that +rival’s wife in her illness. +</p> + +<p> +From all these facts the jury would draw what inferences seemed just to them, +but he for one found it difficult to ask them to include among these the +inference that a man who for more than a generation had occupied a very high +position among them, whose reputation, both in and out of his profession, was +great, and who had received a special mark of favour from the Crown, was in +truth an evil-minded and most malevolent perjurer. Yet, if the statement of the +accused was to be accepted, that would appear to be the case. Of course, +however, there remained the possibility that in the confusion of a hurried +interview I might have misunderstood Sir John Bell’s words, or that he +might have misunderstood mine, or, lastly, as had been suggested, that having +come to the conclusion that Sir John could not possibly form a trustworthy +opinion on the nature of my wife’s symptoms without awaiting their +further development, I had determined to neglect advice, in which, as a doctor +myself, I had no confidence. +</p> + +<p> +This was the gist of his summing up, but, of course, there was a great deal +more which I have not set down. The jury, wishing to consider their verdict, +retired, an example that was followed by the judge. His departure was the +signal for an outburst of conversation in the crowded court, which hummed like +a hive of startled bees. The superintendent of police, who, I imagine, had his +own opinion of Sir John Bell and of the value of his evidence, very kindly +placed a chair for me in the dock, and there on that bad eminence I sat to be +studied by a thousand curious and for the most part unsympathetic eyes. Lady +Colford had been very popular. Her husband and relations, who were convinced of +my guilt and sought to be avenged upon me, were very powerful, therefore the +fashionable world of Dunchester, which was doctored by Sir John Bell, was +against me almost to a woman. +</p> + +<p> +The jury were long in coming back, and in time I accustomed myself to the +staring and comments, and began to think out the problem of my position. It was +clear to me that, so far as my future was concerned, it did not matter what +verdict the jury gave. In any case I was a ruined man in this and probably in +every other country. And there, opposite to me, sat the villain who with no +excuse of hot blood or the pressure of sudden passion, had deliberately sworn +away my honour and livelihood. He was chatting easily to one of the counsel for +the Crown, when presently he met my eyes and in them read my thoughts. I +suppose that the man had a conscience somewhere; probably, indeed, his +treatment of me had not been premeditated, but was undertaken in a hurry to +save himself from well-merited attack. The lie once told there was no escape +for him, who henceforth must sound iniquity to its depths. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly, in the midst of his conversation, Sir John became silent and his lips +turned pale and trembled; then, remarking abruptly that he could waste no more +time on this miserable business, he rose and left the court. Evidently the +barrister to whom he was talking had observed to what this change of demeanour +was due, for he looked first at me in the dock and next at Sir John Bell as, +recovering his pomposity, he made his way through the crowd. Then he grew +reflective, and pushing his wig back from his forehead he stared at the ceiling +and whistled to himself softly. +</p> + +<p> +It was very evident that the jury found a difficulty in making up their minds, +for minute after minute went by and still they did not return. Indeed, they +must have been absent quite an hour and a half when suddenly the superintendent +of police removed the chair which he had given me and informed me that +“they” were coming. +</p> + +<p> +With a curious and impersonal emotion, as a man might consider a case in which +he had no immediate concern, I studied their faces while one by one they filed +into the box. The anxiety had been so great and so prolonged that I rejoiced it +was at length coming to its end, whatever that end might be. +</p> + +<p> +The judge having returned to his seat on the bench, in the midst of the most +intense silence the clerk asked the jury whether they found the prisoner guilty +or not guilty. Rising to his feet, the foreman, a dapper little man with a +rapid utterance, said, or rather read from a piece of paper, “<i>Not +guilty</i>, but we hope that in future Dr. Therne will be more careful about +conveying infection.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is a most improper verdict,” broke in the judge with +irritation, “for it acquits the accused and yet implies that he is +guilty. Dr. Therne, you are discharged. I repeat that I regret that the jury +should have thought fit to add a very uncalled-for rider to their +verdict.” +</p> + +<p> +I left the dock and pushed my way through the crowd. Outside the court-house I +came face to face with Sir Thomas Colford. A sudden impulse moved me to speak +to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir Thomas,” I began, “now that I have been acquitted by a +jury——” +</p> + +<p> +“Pray, Dr. Therne,” he broke in, “say no more, for the less +said the better. It is useless to offer explanations to a man whose wife you +have murdered.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, Sir Thomas, that is false. When I visited Lady Colford I knew +nothing of my wife’s condition.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” he replied, “in this matter I have to choose between +the word of Sir John Bell, who, although unfortunately my wife did not like him +as a doctor, has been my friend for over twenty years, and your word, with whom +I have been acquainted for one year. Under these circumstances, I believe Sir +John Bell, and that you are a guilty man. Nine people out of every ten in +Dunchester believe this, and, what is more, the jury believed it also, although +for reasons which are easily to be understood they showed mercy to you,” +and, turning on his heel, he walked away from me. +</p> + +<p> +I also walked away to my own desolate home, and, sitting down in the empty +consulting-room, contemplated the utter ruin that had overtaken me. My wife was +gone and my career was gone, and to whatever part of the earth I might migrate +an evil reputation would follow me. And all this through no fault of mine. +</p> + +<p> +Whilst I still sat brooding a man was shown into the room, a smiling little +black-coated person, in whom I recognised the managing clerk of the firm of +solicitors that had conducted the case for the prosecution. +</p> + +<p> +“Not done with your troubles yet, Dr. Therne, I fear,” he said +cheerfully; “out of the criminal wood into the civil swamp,” and he +laughed as he handed me a paper. +</p> + +<p> +“What is this?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Statement of claim in the case of Colford v. Therne; damages laid at +10,000 pounds, which, I daresay, you will agree is not too much for the loss of +a young wife. You see, doctor, Sir Thomas is downright wild with you, and so +are all the late lady’s people. As he can’t lock you up, he intends +to ruin you by means of an action. If he had listened to me, that is what he +would have begun with, leaving the criminal law alone. It’s a nasty +treacherous thing is the criminal law, and you can’t be sure of your man +however black things may look against him. I never thought they could convict +you, doctor, never; for, as the old judge said, you see it is quite unusual to +prosecute criminally in cases of this nature, and the jury won’t send a +man to jail for a little mistake of the sort. But they will ‘cop’ +you in damages, a thousand or fifteen hundred, and then the best thing that you +can do will be to go bankrupt, or perhaps you had better clear before the trial +comes on.” +</p> + +<p> +I groaned aloud, but the little man went on cheerfully:— +</p> + +<p> +“Same solicitors, I suppose? I’ll take the other things to them so +as not to bother you more than I can help. Good-afternoon; I’m downright +glad that they didn’t convict you, and as for old Bell, he’s as mad +as a hatter, though of course everybody knows what the jury meant—the +judge was pretty straight about it, wasn’t he?—he chooses to think +that it amounts to calling him a liar. Well, now I come to think of it, there +are one or two things—so perhaps he is. Good-afternoon, doctor. +Let’s see, you have the original and I will take the duplicate,” +and he vanished. +</p> + +<p> +When the clerk had gone I went on thinking. Things were worse than I had +believed, for it seemed that I was not even clear of my legal troubles. Already +this trial had cost me a great deal, and I was in no position to stand the +financial strain of a second appearance in the law courts. Also the man was +right; although I had been acquitted on the criminal charge, if the same +evidence were given by Sir John Bell and the nurse in a civil action, without +any manner of doubt I should be cast in heavy damages. Well, I could only wait +and see what happened. +</p> + +<p> +But was it worth while? Was anything worth while? The world had treated me very +cruelly; a villain had lied away my reputation and the world believed him, so +that henceforth I must be one of its outcasts and black sheep; an object of +pity and contempt among the members of my profession. It was doubtful whether, +having been thus exposed and made bankrupt, I could ever again obtain a +respectable practice. Indeed, the most that I might hope for would be some +small appointment on the west coast of Africa, or any other poisonous place, +which no one else would be inclined to accept, where I might live—until I +died. +</p> + +<p> +The question that occurred to me that evening was whether it would not be wiser +on the whole to accept defeat, own myself beaten, and ring down the +curtain—not a difficult matter for a doctor to deal with. The arguments +for such a course were patent; what were those against it? +</p> + +<p> +The existence of my child? Well, by the time that she grew up, if she lived to +grow up, all the trouble and scandal would be forgotten, and the effacement of +a discredited parent could be no great loss to her. Moreover, my life was +insured for 3000 pounds in an office that took the risk of suicide. +</p> + +<p> +Considerations of religion? These had ceased to have any weight with me. I was +brought up to believe in a good and watching Providence, but the events of the +last few months had choked that belief. If there was a God who guarded us, why +should He have allowed the existence of my wife to be sacrificed to the +carelessness, and all my hopes to the villainy, of Sir John Bell? The reasoning +was inconclusive, perhaps—for who can know the ends of the +Divinity?—but it satisfied my mind at the time, and for the rest I have +never really troubled to reopen the question. +</p> + +<p> +The natural love of life for its own sake? It had left me. What more had life +to offer? Further, what is called “love of life” frequently enough +is little more than fear of the hereafter or of death, and of the physical act +of death I had lost my terror, shattered as I was by sorrow and shame. Indeed, +at that moment I could have welcomed it gladly, since to me it meant the +perfect rest of oblivion. +</p> + +<p> +So in the end I determined that I would leave this lighted house of Life and go +out into the dark night, and at once. Unhappy was it for me and for hundreds of +other human beings that the decree of fate, or chance, brought my designs to +nothing. +</p> + +<p> +First I wrote a letter to be handed to the reporters at the inquest for +publication in the newspapers, in which I told the true story of Lady +Colford’s case and denounced Bell as a villain whose perjury had driven +me to self-murder. After this I wrote a second letter, to be given to my +daughter if she lived to come to years of discretion, setting out the facts +that brought me to my end and asking her to pardon me for having left her. This +done it seemed that my worldly business was completed, so I set about leaving +the world. +</p> + +<p> +Going to a medicine chest I reflected a little. Finally I decided on prussic +acid; its after effects are unpleasant but its action is swift and certain. +What did it matter to me if I turned black and smelt of almonds when I was +dead? +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap06"></a>CHAPTER VI<br/> +THE GATE OF DARKNESS</h2> + +<p> +Taking the phial from the chest I poured an ample but not an over dose of the +poison into a medicine glass, mixing it with a little water, so that it might +be easier to swallow. I lingered as long as I could over these preparations, +but they came to an end too soon. +</p> + +<p> +Now there seemed to be nothing more to do except to transfer that little +measure of white fluid from the glass to my mouth, and thus to open the great +door at whose bolts and bars we stare blankly from the day of birth to the day +of death. Every panel of that door is painted with a different picture touched +to individual taste. Some are beautiful, and some are grim, and some are +neutral-tinted and indefinite. My favourite picture used to be one of a boat +floating on a misty ocean, and in the boat a man sleeping—myself, +dreaming happily, dreaming always. +</p> + +<p> +But that picture had gone now, and in place of it was one of blackness, not the +tumultuous gloom of a stormy night, but dead, cold, unfathomable blackness. +Without a doubt <i>that</i> was what lay behind the door—only that. So +soon as ever my wine was swallowed and those mighty hinges began to turn I +should see a wall of blackness thrusting itself ’twixt door and lintel. +Yes, it would creep forward, now pausing, now advancing, until at length it +wrapped me round and stifled out my breath like a death mask of cold clay. Then +sight would die and sound would die and to all eternities there would be +silence, silence while the stars grew old and crumbled, silence while they took +form again far in the void, for ever and for ever dumb, dreadful, conquering +silence. +</p> + +<p> +That was the only real picture, the rest were mere efforts of the imagination. +And yet, what if some of them were also true? What if the finished landscape +that lay beyond the doom-door was but developed from the faint sketch traced by +the strivings of our spirit—to each man his own picture, but filled in, +perfected, vivified a thousandfold, for terror or for joy perfect and +inconceivable? +</p> + +<p> +The thought was fascinating, but not without its fears. It was strange that a +man who had abandoned hopes should still be haunted by fears—like +everything else in the world, this is unjust. For a little while, five or ten +minutes, not more than ten, I would let my mind dwell on that thought, trying +to dig down to its roots which doubtless drew their strength from the foetid +slime of human superstition, trying to behold its topmost branches where they +waved in sparkling light. No, that was not the theory; I must imagine those +invisible branches as grim skeletons of whitened wood, standing stirless in +that atmosphere of overwhelming night. +</p> + +<p> +So I sat myself in a chair, placing the medicine glass with the draught of bane +upon the table before me, and, to make sure that I did not exceed the ten +minutes, near to it my travelling clock. As I sat thus I fell into a dream or +vision. I seemed to see myself standing upon the world, surrounded by familiar +sights and sounds. There in the west the sun sank in splendour, and the sails +of a windmill that turned slowly between its orb and me were now bright as +gold, and now by contrast black as they dipped into the shadow. Near the +windmill was a cornfield, and beyond the cornfield stood a cottage whence came +the sound of lowing cattle and the voices of children. Down a path that ran +through the ripening corn walked a young man and a maid, their arms twined +about each other, while above their heads a lark poured out its song. +</p> + +<p> +But at my very feet this kindly earth and all that has life upon it vanished +quite away, and there in its place, seen through a giant portal, was the realm +of darkness that I had pictured—darkness so terrible, so overpowering, +and so icy that my living blood froze at the sight of it. Presently something +stirred in the darkness, for it trembled like shaken water. A shape came +forward to the edge of the gateway so that the light of the setting sun fell +upon it, making it visible. I looked and knew that it was the phantom of my +lost wife wrapped in her last garments. There she stood, sad and eager-faced, +with quick-moving lips, from which no echo reached my ears. There she stood, +beating the air with her hands as though to bar that path against me. . . . +</p> + +<p> +I awoke with a start, to see standing over against me in the gloom of the +doorway, not the figure of my wife come from the company of the dead with +warning on her lips, but that of Stephen Strong. Yes, it was he, for the light +of the candle that I had lit when I went to seek the drug fell full upon his +pale face and large bald head. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo, doctor,” he said in his harsh but not unkindly voice, +“having a nip and a nap, eh? What’s your tipple? Hollands it looks, +but it smells more like peach brandy. May I taste it? I’m a judge of +hollands,” and he lifted the glass of prussic acid and water from the +table. +</p> + +<p> +In an instant my dazed faculties were awake, and with a swift motion I had +knocked the glass from his hand, so that it fell upon the floor and was +shattered. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” he said, “I <i>thought</i> so. And now, young man, +perhaps you will tell me why you were playing a trick like that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” I answered bitterly. “Because my wife is dead; because +my name is disgraced; because my career is ruined; because they have commenced +a new action against me, and, if I live, I must become a +bankrupt——” +</p> + +<p> +“And you thought that you could make all these things better by killing +yourself. Doctor, I didn’t believe that you were such a fool. You say you +have done nothing to be ashamed of, and I believe you. Well, then, what does it +matter what these folk think? For the rest, when a man finds himself in a tight +place, he shouldn’t knock under, he should fight his way through. +You’re in a tight place, I know, but I was once in a tighter, yes, I did +what you have nearly done—I went to jail on a false charge and false +evidence. But I didn’t commit suicide. I served my time, and I think it +crazed me a bit though it was only a month; at any rate, I was what they call a +crank when I came out, which I wasn’t when I went in. Then I set to work +and showed up those for whom I had done time—living or dead they’ll +never forget Stephen Strong, I’ll warrant—and after that I turned +to and became the head of the Radical party and one of the richest men in +Dunchester; why, I might have been in Parliament half a dozen times over if I +had chosen, although I am only a draper. Now, if I have done all this, why +can’t you, who have twice my brains and education, do as much? +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody will employ you? I will find folk who will employ you. Action for +damages? I’ll stand the shot of that however it goes; I love a lawsuit, +and a thousand or two won’t hurt me. And now I came round here to ask you +to supper, and I think you’ll be better drinking port with Stephen Strong +than hell-fire with another tradesman, whom I won’t name. Before we go, +however, just give me your word of honour that there shall be no more of this +sort of thing,” and he pointed to the broken glass, “now or +afterwards, as I don’t want to be mixed up with inquests.” +</p> + +<p> +“I promise,” I answered presently. +</p> + +<p> +“That will do,” said Mr. Strong, as he led the way to the door. +</p> + +<p> +I need not dwell upon the further events of that evening, inasmuch as they were +almost a repetition of those of the previous night. Mrs. Strong received me +kindly in her faded fashion, and, after a few inquiries about the trial, sought +refuge in her favourite topic of the lost Tribes. Indeed, I remember that she +was rather put out because I had not already mastered the books and pamphlets +which she had given me. In the end, notwithstanding the weariness of her feeble +folly, I returned home in much better spirits. +</p> + +<p> +For the next month or two nothing of note happened to me, except indeed that +the action for damages brought against me by Sir Thomas Colford was suddenly +withdrawn. Although it never transpired publicly, I believe that the true +reason of this collapse was that Sir John Bell flatly refused to appear in +court and submit himself to further examination, and without Sir John Bell +there was no evidence against me. But the withdrawal of this action did not +help me professionally; indeed the fine practice which I was beginning to get +together had entirely vanished away. Not a creature came near my +consulting-room, and scarcely a creature called me in. The prosecution and the +verdict of the jury, amounting as it did to one of “not proven” +only, had ruined me. By now my small resources were almost exhausted, and I +could see that very shortly the time would come when I should no longer know +where to turn for bread for myself and my child. +</p> + +<p> +One morning as I was sitting in my consulting-room, moodily reading a medical +textbook for want of something else to do, the front door bell rang. “A +patient at last,” I thought to myself with a glow of hope. I was soon +undeceived, however, for the servant opened the door and announced Mr. Stephen +Strong. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you do, doctor?” he said briskly. “You will wonder +why I am here at such an hour. Well, it is on business. I want you to come with +me to see two sick children.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” I said, and we started. +</p> + +<p> +“Who are the children and what is the matter with them?” I asked +presently. +</p> + +<p> +“Son and daughter of a working boot-maker named Samuels. As to what is +the matter with them, you can judge of that for yourself,” he replied +with a grim smile. +</p> + +<p> +Passing into the poorer part of the city, at length we reached a +cobbler’s shop with a few pairs of roughly-made boots on sale in the +window. In the shop sat Mr. Samuels, a dour-looking man of about forty. +</p> + +<p> +“Here is the doctor, Samuels,” said Strong. +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” he answered, “he’ll find the missus and +the kids in there and a pretty sight they are; I can’t bear to look at +them, I can’t.” +</p> + +<p> +Passing through the shop, we went into a back room whence came a sound of +wailing. Standing in the room was a careworn woman and in the bed lay two +children, aged three and four respectively. I proceeded at once to my +examination, and found that one child, a boy, was in a state of extreme +prostration and fever, the greater part of his body being covered with a vivid +scarlet rash. The other child, a girl, was suffering from a terribly red and +swollen arm, the inflammation being most marked above the elbow. Both were +cases of palpable and severe erysipelas, and both of the sufferers had been +vaccinated within five days. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Stephen Strong, “well, what’s the matter +with them?” +</p> + +<p> +“Erysipelas,” I answered. +</p> + +<p> +“And what caused the erysipelas? Was it the vaccination?” +</p> + +<p> +“It may have been the vaccination,” I replied cautiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Come here, Samuels,” called Strong. “Now, then, tell the +doctor your story.” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s precious little story about it,” said the poor man, +keeping his back towards the afflicted children. “I have been pulled up +three times and fined because I didn’t have the kids vaccinated, not +being any believer in vaccination myself ever since my sister’s boy died +of it, with his head all covered with sores. Well, I couldn’t pay no more +fines, so I told the missus that she might take them to the vaccination +officer, and she did five or six days ago. And there, that’s the end of +their vaccination, and damn ’em to hell, say I,” and the poor +fellow pushed his way out of the room. +</p> + +<p> +It is quite unnecessary that I should follow all the details of this sad case. +In the result, despite everything that I could do for him, the boy died though +the girl recovered. Both had been vaccinated from the same tube of lymph. In +the end I was able to force the authorities to have the contents of tubes +obtained from the same source examined microscopically and subjected to the +culture test. They were proved to contain the streptococcus or germ of +erysipelas. +</p> + +<p> +As may be imagined this case caused a great stir and much public controversy, +in which I took an active part. It was seized upon eagerly by the +anti-vaccination party, and I was quoted as the authority for its details. In +reply, the other side hinted pretty broadly that I was a person so discredited +that my testimony on this or any other matter should be accepted with caution, +an unjust aspersion which not unnaturally did much to keep me in the +enemy’s camp. Indeed it was now, when I became useful to a great and +rising party, that at length I found friends without number, who, not content +with giving me their present support, took up the case on account of which I +had stood my trial, and, by their energy and the ventilation of its details, +did much to show how greatly I had been wronged. I did not and do not suppose +that all this friendship was disinterested, but, whatever its motive, it was +equally welcome to a crushed and deserted man. +</p> + +<p> +By slow degrees, and without my making any distinct pronouncement on the +subject, I came to be looked upon as a leading light among the very small and +select band of anti-vaccinationist men, and as such to study the question +exhaustively. Hearing that I was thus engaged, Stephen Strong offered me a +handsome salary, which I suppose came out of his pocket, if I would consent to +investigate cases in which vaccination was alleged to have resulted in +mischief. I accepted the salary since, formally at any rate, it bound me to +nothing but a course of inquiries. During a search of two years I established +to my satisfaction that vaccination, as for the most part it was then +performed, that is from arm to arm, is occasionally the cause of blood +poisoning, erysipelas, abscesses, tuberculosis, and other dreadful ailments. +These cases I published without drawing from them any deductions whatever, with +the result that I found myself summoned to give evidence before the Royal +Commission on Vaccination which was then sitting at Westminster. When I had +given my evidence, which, each case being well established, could scarcely be +shaken, some members of the Commission attempted to draw me into general +statements as to the advantage or otherwise of the practice of vaccination to +the community. To these gentlemen I replied that as my studies had been +directed towards the effects of vaccination in individual instances only, the +argument was one upon which I preferred not to enter. +</p> + +<p> +Had I spoken the truth, indeed, I should have confessed my inability to support +the anti-vaccinationist case, since in my opinion few people who have studied +this question with an open and impartial mind can deny that Jenner’s +discovery is one of the greatest boons—perhaps, after the introduction of +antiseptics and anaesthetics, the very greatest—that has ever been +bestowed upon suffering humanity. +</p> + +<p> +If the reader has any doubts upon the point, let him imagine a time when, as +used to happen in the days of our forefathers, almost everybody suffered from +smallpox at some period of their lives, those escaping only whose blood was so +fortified by nature that the disease could not touch them. Let him imagine a +state of affairs—and there are still people living whose parents could +remember it—when for a woman not to be pitted with smallpox was to give +her some claim to beauty, however homely might be her features. Lastly, let him +imagine what all this means: what terror walked abroad when it was common for +smallpox to strike a family of children, and when the parents, themselves the +survivors of similar catastrophes, knew well that before it left the house it +would take its tithe of those beloved lives. Let him look at the brasses in our +old churches and among the numbers of children represented on them as kneeling +behind their parents; let him note what a large proportion pray with their +hands open. Of these, the most, I believe, were cut off by smallpox. Let him +search the registers, and they will tell the same tale. Let him ask old people +of what their mothers told them when they were young of the working of this +pestilence in their youth. Finally, let him consider how it comes about, if +vaccination is a fraud, that some nine hundred and ninety-nine medical men out +of every thousand, not in England only, but in all civilised countries, place +so firm a belief in its virtue. Are the doctors of the world all mad, or all +engaged in a great conspiracy to suppress the truth? +</p> + +<p> +These were my real views, as they must be the views of most intelligent and +thoughtful men; but I did not think it necessary to promulgate them abroad, +since to do so would have been to deprive myself of such means of maintenance +as remained to me. Indeed, in those days I told neither more nor less than the +truth. Evil results occasionally followed the use of bad lymph or unclean +treatment after the subject had been inoculated. Thus most of the cases of +erysipelas into which I examined arose not from vaccination but from the dirty +surroundings of the patient. Wound a million children, however slightly, and +let flies settle on the wound or dirt accumulate in it, and the result will be +that a certain small proportion will develop erysipelas quite independently of +the effects of vaccination. +</p> + +<p> +In the same way, some amount of inoculated disease must follow the almost +promiscuous use of lymph taken from human beings. The danger is perfectly +preventable, and ought long ago to have been prevented, by making it illegal, +under heavy penalties, to use any substance except that which has been +developed in calves and scientifically treated with glycerine, when, as I +believe, no hurt can possibly follow. This is the verdict of science and, as +tens of thousands can testify, the common experience of mankind. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap07"></a>CHAPTER VII<br/> +CROSSING THE RUBICON</h2> + +<p> +My appearance as an expert before the Royal Commission gave me considerable +importance in the eyes of a large section of the inhabitants of Dunchester. It +was not the wealthiest or most influential section indeed, although in it were +numbered some rich and powerful men. Once again I found myself with a wide and +rapidly increasing practice, and an income that was sufficient for my needs. +Mankind suffers from many ailments besides that of smallpox, indeed in +Dunchester this question of the value of vaccination was at that time purely +academical, as except for an occasional case there had been no outbreak of +smallpox for years. Now, as I have said, I was a master of my trade, and soon +proved myself competent to deal skilfully with such illnesses, surgical or +medical, as I was called upon to treat. Thus my practice grew, especially among +the small tradespeople and artisans, who did not belong to clubs, but preferred +to pay for a doctor in whom they had confidence. +</p> + +<p> +Three years and more had gone by since that night on which I sat opposite to a +wine-glass full of poison and was the prey of visions, when once again I +received a call from Stephen Strong. With this good-hearted, though misguided +man, and his amiable, but weak-minded wife, I had kept up an intimacy that in +time ripened into genuine friendship. On every Sunday night, and sometimes +oftener, I took supper with them, and discussed with Mrs. Strong the important +questions of our descent from the lost Tribes and whether or no the lupus from +which she suffered was the result of vaccination in infancy. +</p> + +<p> +Owing to a press of patients, to whom I was obliged to attend, I was not able +to receive Mr. Strong for nearly half an hour. +</p> + +<p> +“Things are a bit different from what they used to be, doctor,” he +said as he entered the room looking much the same as ever, with the exception +that now even his last hairs had gone, leaving him completely bald, +“there’s six more of them waiting there, and all except one can pay +a fee. Yes, the luck has turned for you since you were called in to attend +cobbler Samuels’ children, and you haven’t seen the top of it yet, +I can tell you. Now, what do you think I have come to see you about?” +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t say. I give it up.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I will tell you. You saw in yesterday’s paper that old brewer +Hicks, the member for Dunchester, has been raised to the peerage. I understand +he told the Government that if they kept him waiting any longer he would stop +his subscription to the party funds, and as that’s 5000 pounds a year, +they gave in, believing the seat to be a safe one. But that’s just where +they make their mistake, for if we get the right man the Rads will win.” +</p> + +<p> +“And who is the right man?” +</p> + +<p> +“James Therne, Esq., M.D.,” he answered quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“What on earth do you mean?” I asked. “How can I afford to +spend from 1000 to 2000 pounds upon a contested election, and as much more a +year in subscriptions and keeping up the position if I should chance to be +returned? And how, in the name of fortune, can I be both a practising physician +and a member of Parliament?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll tell you, doctor, for, ever since your name was put forward +by the Liberal Council yesterday, I have seen these difficulties and been +thinking them out. Look here, you are still young, handsome, clever, and a +capital speaker with a popular audience. Also you are very hard-working and +would rise. But you’ve no money, and only what you earn at your +profession to live on, which, if you were a member of Parliament, you +couldn’t continue to earn. Well, such a man as you are is wanted and so +he must be paid for.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” I said, “I am not going to be the slave of a +Radical Five Hundred, bound to do what they tell me and vote as they like; +I’d rather stick to my own trade, thank you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you be in a hurry, young man; who asked you to be any +one’s slave? Now, look here—if somebody guarantees every farthing +of expense to fight the seat, and 1200 pounds a year and outgoings if you +should be successful, and a bonus of 5000 pounds in the event of your being +subsequently defeated or electing to give up parliamentary life, will you take +on the job?” +</p> + +<p> +“On those terms, yes, I think so, provided I was sure of the guarantor, +and that he was a man from whom I could take the money.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you can soon judge of that, doctor, for it is I, Samuel Strong, +and I’ll deposit 10,000 pounds in the hands of a trustee before you write +your letter of acceptance. No, don’t thank me. I do it for two +reasons—first, because, having no chick or kin of my own, I happen to +have taken a fancy to you and wish to push you on. The world has treated you +badly, and I want to see you one of its masters, with all these smart people +who look down on you licking your boots, as they will sure enough if you grow +rich and powerful. That’s my private reason. My public one is that you +are the only man in Dunchester who can win us the seat, and I’d think +10,000 pounds well spent if it put those Tories at the bottom of the poll. I +want to show them who is “boss,” and that we won’t be lorded +over by bankers and brewers just because they are rich men who have bought +themselves titles.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you are a rich man yourself,” I interrupted. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, doctor, and I spend my money in helping those who will help the +people. Now, before you give me any answer, I’ve got to ask you a thing +or two,” and he drew a paper from his pocket. “Are you prepared to +support the abolition of ‘tied’ houses?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly. They are the worst monopoly in England.” +</p> + +<p> +“Graduated income-tax?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; the individual should pay in proportion to the property +protected.” +</p> + +<p> +“An Old Age Pension scheme?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but only by means of compulsory insurance applicable to all classes +without exception.” +</p> + +<p> +“Disestablishment and Disendowment of the Church?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, provided its funds are pooled and reapplied to Church +purposes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Payment of members and placing the cost of elections on the +rates?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, the door of Parliament should not be shut in the face of all except +the very rich. Election expenditure is at present only a veiled form of +corruption. If it were put upon the rates it could be reduced by at least a +half, and elections would be fewer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Home Rule—no, I needn’t ask you that, for it is a dead horse +which we don’t want to flog, and now-a-days we are all in favour of a big +navy, so I think that is about everything—except, of course, +anti-vaccination, which you’ll run for all it’s worth.” +</p> + +<p> +“I never said that I would, Mr. Strong,” I answered. +</p> + +<p> +He looked at me curiously. “No, and you never said you wouldn’t. +Now, doctor, let us come to an understanding about this, for here in Dunchester +it’s worth more than all the other things put together. If this seat is +to be won, it will be won on anti-vaccination. That’s our burning +question, and that’s why you are being asked to stand, because +you’ve studied the thing and are believed to be one of the few doctors +who don’t bow the knee to Baal. So look here, let’s understand each +other. If you have any doubts about this matter, say so, and we will have done +with it, for, remember, once you are on the platform you’ve got to go the +whole hog; none of your scientific finicking, but appeals to the people to rise +up in their thousands and save their innocent children from being offered to +the Moloch of vaccination, with enlarged photographs of nasty-looking cases, +and the rest of it.” +</p> + +<p> +I listened and shivered. The inquiry into rare cases of disease after +vaccination had been interesting work, which, whatever deductions people might +choose to draw, in fact committed me to nothing. But to become one of the +ragged little regiment of medical dissenters, to swallow all the unscientific +follies of the anti-vaccination agitators, to make myself responsible for and +to promulgate their distorted figures and wild statements—ah! that was +another thing. Must I appear upon platforms and denounce this wonderful +discovery as the “law of useless infanticide”? Must I tell people +that “smallpox is really a curative process and not the deadly scourge +and pestilence that doctors pretend it to be”? Must I maintain +“that vaccination never did, never does, and never can prevent even a +single case of smallpox”? Must I hold it up as a “law (!) of devil +worship and human sacrifice to idols”? +</p> + +<p> +If I accepted Strong’s offer it seemed that I must do all these things: +more, I must be false to my instincts, false to my training and profession, +false to my scientific knowledge. I could not do it. And yet—when did a +man in my position ever get such a chance as that which was offered to me this +day? I was ready with my tongue and fond of public speaking; from boyhood it +had been my desire to enter Parliament, where I knew well that I should show to +some advantage. Now, without risk or expense to myself, an opportunity of +gratifying this ambition was given to me. Indeed, if I succeeded in winning +this city, which had always been a Tory stronghold, for the Radical party I +should be a marked man from the beginning, and if my career was not one of +assured prosperity the fault would be my own. Already in imagination I saw +myself rich (for in this way or in that the money would come), a favourite of +the people, a trusted minister of the Crown and perhaps—who could +tell?—ennobled, living a life of dignity and repute, and at last leaving +my honours and my fame to those who came after me. +</p> + +<p> +On the other hand, if I refused this offer the chance would pass away from me, +never to return again; it was probable even that I should lose Stephen +Strong’s friendship and support, for he was not a man who liked his +generosity to be slighted, moreover he would believe me unsound upon his +favourite dogmas. In short, for ever abandoning my brilliant hopes I condemned +myself to an experience of struggle as a doctor with a practice among +second-class people. +</p> + +<p> +After all, although the thought of it shocked me at first, the price I was +asked to pay was not so very heavy, merely one of the usual election platform +formulas, whereby the candidate binds himself to support all sorts of things in +which he has little or no beliefs. Already I was half committed to this +anti-vaccination crusade, and, if I took a step or two farther in it, what did +it matter? One crank more added to the great army of British enthusiasts could +make little difference in the scheme of things. +</p> + +<p> +If ever a man went through a “psychological moment” in this hour I +was that man. The struggle was short and sharp, but it ended as might be +expected in the case of one of my history and character. Could I have foreseen +the dreadful issues which hung upon my decision, I believe that rather than +speak it, for the second time in my life I would have sought the solace to be +found in the phials of my medicine chest. But I did not foresee them, I thought +only of myself, of my own hopes, fears and ambitions, forgetting that no man +can live to himself alone, and that his every deed must act and re-act upon +others until humanity ceases to exist. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Mr. Strong after a two or three minutes’ pause, +during which these thoughts were wrestling in my mind. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” I answered, “as you elegantly express it, I am +prepared to go the whole hog—it is a case of hog <i>versus</i> calf, +isn’t it?—or, for the matter of that, a whole styful of +hogs.” +</p> + +<p> +I suppose that my doubts and irritation were apparent in the inelegant jocosity +of my manner. At any rate, Stephen Strong, who was a shrewd observer, took +alarm. +</p> + +<p> +“Look here, doctor,” he said, “I am honest, I am; right or +wrong I believe in this anti-vaccination business, and we are going to run the +election on it. If you don’t believe in it—and you have no +particular call to, since every man can claim his own opinion—you’d +better let it alone, and look on all this talk as nothing. You are our first +and best man, but we have several upon the list; I’ll go on to one of +them,” and he took up his hat. +</p> + +<p> +I let him take it; I even let him walk towards the door; but, as he approached +it, I reflected that with that dogged burly form went all my ambitions and my +last chance of advancement in life. When his hand was already on the handle, +not of premeditation, but by impulse, I said:— +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know why you should talk like that, as I think that I have +given good proof that I am no believer in vaccination.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s that, doctor?” he asked turning round. +</p> + +<p> +“My little girl is nearly four years old and she has never been +vaccinated.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it so?” he asked doubtfully. +</p> + +<p> +As he spoke I heard the nurse going down the passage and with her my daughter, +whom she was taking for her morning walk. I opened the door and called Jane in, +a beautiful little being with dark eyes and golden hair. +</p> + +<p> +“Look for yourself,” I said, and, taking off the child’s +coat, I showed him both her arms. Then I kissed her and sent her back to the +nurse. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s good enough, doctor, but, mind you, <i>she mustn’t be +vaccinated now</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +As he spoke the words my heart sank in me, for I understood what I had done and +the risk that I was taking. But the die was cast, or so I thought, in my folly. +It was too late to go back. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be afraid,” I said, “no cow poison shall be +mixed with her blood.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now I believe you, doctor,” he answered, “for a man +won’t play tricks with his only child just to help himself. I’ll +take your answer to the council, and they will send you the formal letter of +invitation to stand with the conditions attached. Before you answer it the +money will be lodged, and you shall have my bond for it. And now I must be +going, for I am wasting your time and those patients of yours will be getting +tired. If you will come to supper to-night I’ll have some of the leaders +to meet you and we can talk things over. Good-bye, we shall win the seat; so +sure as my name is Stephen Strong we shall win on the A.V. ticket.” +</p> + +<p> +He went, and I saw those of my patients who had sat out the wait. When they had +gone, I considered the position, summing it up in my own mind. The prospect was +exhilarating, and yet I was depressed, for I had bound myself to the chariot +wheels of a false doctrine. Also, by implication, I had told Strong a lie. It +was true that Jane had not been vaccinated, but of this I had neglected to give +him the reason. It was that I had postponed vaccinating her for a while owing +to a certain infantile delicacy, being better acquainted than most men with the +risks consequent on that operation, slight though it is, in certain conditions +of a child’s health, and knowing that there was no danger of her taking +smallpox in a town which was free from it. I proposed, however, to perform the +operation within the next few days; indeed, for this very purpose I had already +written to London to secure some glycerinated calf lymph, which would now be +wasted. +</p> + +<p> +The local papers next morning appeared with an announcement that at the +forthcoming bye-election Dunchester would be contested in the Radical interest +by James Therne, Esq., M.D. They added that, in addition to other articles of +the Radical faith, Dr. Therne professed the doctrine of anti-vaccination, of +which he was so ardent an upholder that, although on several occasions he had +been threatened with prosecution, he declined to allow his only child to be +vaccinated. +</p> + +<p> +In the same issues it was announced that the Conservative candidate would be +Sir Thomas Colford. +</p> + +<p> +So the die was cast. I had crossed the Rubicon. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap08"></a>CHAPTER VIII<br/> +BRAVO THE A.V.’S</h2> + +<p> +In another week the writ had been issued, and we were in the thick of the +fight. What a fight it was! Memory could not record; tradition did not even +record another half as fierce in the borough of Dunchester. For the most part, +that is in many of our constituencies, it is not difficult for a candidate +standing in the Radical interest, if he is able, well-backed, and not too +particular as to what he promises, to win the seat for his party. But +Dunchester was something of an exception. In a sense it was corrupt, that is, +it had always been represented by a rich man, who was expected to pay liberally +for the honour of its confidence. Pay he did, indeed, in large and numberless +subscriptions, in the endowment of reading-rooms, in presents of public parks, +and I know not what besides. +</p> + +<p> +At least it is a fact that almost every advantage of this nature enjoyed to-day +by the inhabitants of Dunchester, has been provided for them by former +Conservative members for the borough. +</p> + +<p> +Under these circumstances it is not to be wondered at that in choosing a +candidate the majority of the electors of the city were apt to ask two leading +questions: first, Is he rich? and secondly, What will he do for the town if he +gets in? +</p> + +<p> +Now, Sir Thomas Colford was very rich, and it was whispered that if he were +elected he would be prepared to show his gratitude in a substantial fashion. A +new wing to the hospital was wanted; this it was said would be erected and +endowed; also forty acres of valuable land belonging to him ran into the park, +and he had been heard to say that these forty acres were really much more +important to the public than to himself, and that he hoped that one day they +would belong to it. +</p> + +<p> +It is small wonder, then, that the announcement of his candidature was received +with passionate enthusiasm. Mine, on the contrary, evoked a chorus of +disapproval, that is, in the local press. I was denounced as an adventurer, as +a man who had stood a criminal trial for wicked negligence, and escaped the +jail only by the skin of my teeth. I was held up to public reprobation as a +Socialist, who, having nothing myself, wished to prey upon the goods of others, +and as an anti-vaccination quack who, to gain a few votes, was ready to infest +the whole community with a loathsome disease. Of all the accusations of my +opponents this was the only one that stung me, because it alone had truth in +it. +</p> + +<p> +Sir John Bell, my old enemy, one of the nominators of Sir Thomas Colford, +appeared upon the platform at his first meeting, and, speaking in the character +of an old and leading citizen of the town, and as one who had doctored most of +them, implored his audience not to trust their political fortunes to such a +person as myself, whose doctrines were repudiated by almost every member of the +profession, which I disgraced. This appeal carried much weight with it. +</p> + +<p> +From all these circumstances it might have been supposed that my case was +hopeless, especially as no Radical had even ventured to contest the seat in the +last two elections. But, in fact, this was not so, for in Dunchester there +existed a large body of voters, many of them employed in shoe-making factories, +who were almost socialistic in their views. These men, spending their days in +some hive of machinery, and their nights in squalid tenements built in dreary +rows, which in cities such people are doomed to inhabit, were very bitter +against the upper classes, and indeed against all who lived in decent comfort. +</p> + +<p> +This was not to be marvelled at, for what can be expected of folk whose lot, +hard as it is, has none of the mitigations that lighten the troubles of those +who live in the country, and who can at least breathe the free air and enjoy +the beauties that are common to all? Here, at Dunchester, their pleasures +consisted for the most part in a dog fight or some such refining spectacle, +varied by an occasional “boose” at the public-house, or, in the +case of those who chanced to be more intellectually inclined, by attending +lectures where Socialism and other advanced doctrines were preached. As was but +natural, this class might be relied upon almost to a man to vote for the party +which promised to better their lot, rather than for the party which could only +recommend them to be contented and to improve themselves. To secure their +support it was only necessary to be extravagant of promises and abusive of +employers who refused to pay them impossible wages. +</p> + +<p> +Next in importance to these red-hot “forwards” came the phalanx of +old-fashioned people who voted Liberal because their fathers had voted Liberal +before them. Then there were the electors who used to be Conservative but, +being honestly dissatisfied with the Government on account of its foreign +policy, or for other reasons, had made up their minds to transfer their +allegiance. Also there were the dissenters, who set hatred of the Church above +all politics, and made its disendowment and humiliation their watchword. In +Dunchester these were active and numerous, a very tower of strength to me, for +Stephen Strong was the wealthiest and most important of them. +</p> + +<p> +During the first day or two of the canvass, however, a careful estimate of our +electoral strength showed it to be several hundred votes short of that of our +opponents. Therefore, if we would win, we must make converts by appealing to +the prejudices of members of the electorate who were of Conservative views; in +other words, by preaching “fads.” +</p> + +<p> +Of these there were many, all useful to the candidate of pliant mind, such as +the total drink-prohibition fad, the anti-dog-muzzling fad, and others, each of +which was worth some votes. Even the Peculiar People, a society that makes a +religion of killing helpless children by refusing them medical aid when they +are ill, were good for ten or twelve. Here, however, I drew the line, for when +asking whether I would support a bill relieving them from all liability to +criminal prosecution in the event of the death of their victims, I absolutely +declined to give any such undertaking. +</p> + +<p> +But although all these fancies had their followers, it was the anti-vaccination +craze that really had a hold in Dunchester. The “A.V.’s,” as +they called themselves, were numbered by hundreds, for the National League and +other similar associations had been at work here for years, with such success +that already twenty per cent. of the children born in the last decade had never +been vaccinated. For a while the Board of Guardians had been slow to move, +then, on the election of a new chairman and the representations of the medical +profession of the town, they instituted a series of prosecutions against +parents who refused to comply with the Vaccination Acts. Unluckily for the +Conservative party, these prosecutions, which aroused the most bitter feelings, +were still going on when the seat fell vacant; hence from an electoral point of +view the question became one of first-class importance. +</p> + +<p> +In Dunchester, as elsewhere, the great majority of the anti-vaccinators were +already Radical, but there remained a residue, estimated at from 300 to 400, +who voted “blue” or Conservative. If these men could be brought +over, I should win; if they remained faithful to their colour, I must lose. +Therefore it will be seen that Stephen Strong was right when he said that the +election would be won or lost upon anti-vaccination. +</p> + +<p> +At the first public meeting of the Conservatives, after Sir Thomas’s +speech, the spokesman of the anti-vaccination party rose and asked him whether +he was in favour of the abolition of the Compulsory Vaccination laws. Now, at +this very meeting Sir John Bell had already spoken denouncing me for my views +upon this question, thereby to some extent tying the candidate’s hands. +So, after some pause and consultation, Sir Thomas replied that he was in favour +of freeing “Conscientious Objectors” to vaccination from all legal +penalties. Like most half measures, this decision of course did not gain him a +single vote, whereas it certainly lost him much support. +</p> + +<p> +On the same evening a similar question was put to me. My answer may be guessed, +indeed I took the opportunity to make a speech which was cheered to the echo, +for, having acted the great lie of espousing the anti-vaccination cause, I felt +that it was not worth while to hesitate in telling other lies in support of it. +Moreover, I knew my subject thoroughly, and understood what points to dwell +upon and what to gloze over, how to twist and turn the statistics, and how to +marshal my facts in such fashion as would make it very difficult to expose +their fallacy. Then, when I had done with general arguments, I went on to +particular cases, describing as a doctor can do the most dreadful which had +ever come under my notice, with such power and pathos that women in the +audience burst into tears. +</p> + +<p> +Finally, I ended by an impassioned appeal to all present to follow my example +and refuse to allow their children to be poisoned. I called on them as free men +to rise against this monstrous Tyranny, to put a stop to this system of +organised and judicial Infanticide, and to send me to Parliament to raise my +voice on their behalf in the cause of helpless infants whose tender bodies now, +day by day, under the command of the law, were made the receptacles of the most +filthy diseases from which man was doomed to suffer. +</p> + +<p> +As I sat down the whole of that great audience—it numbered more than +2000—rose in their places shouting “We will! we will!” after +which followed a scene of enthusiasm such as I had never seen before, +emphasised by cries of “We are free Englishmen,” “Down with +the baby-butchers,” “We will put you in, sir,” and so forth. +</p> + +<p> +That meeting gave me my cue, and thenceforward, leaving almost every other +topic on one side, I and my workers devoted ourselves to preaching the +anti-vaccination doctrines. We flooded the constituency with tracts headed +“What Vaccination Does,” “The Law of Useless +Infanticide,” “The Vaccine Tyranny,” “Is Vaccination a +Fraud?” and so forth, and with horrible pictures of calves stretched out +by pulleys, gagged and blindfolded, with their under parts covered by vaccine +vesicles. Also we had photographs of children suffering from the effects of +improper or unclean vaccination, which, by means of magic lantern slides, could +be thrown life-sized on a screen; indeed, one or two such children themselves +were taken round to meetings and their sores exhibited. +</p> + +<p> +The effect of all this was wonderful, for I know of nothing capable of rousing +honest but ignorant people to greater rage and enthusiasm than this +anti-vaccination cry. They believe it to be true, or, at least, seeing one or +two cases in which it is true, and having never seen a case of smallpox, they +suppose that the whole race is being poisoned by wicked doctors for their own +gain. Hence their fierce energy and heartfelt indignation. +</p> + +<p> +Well, it carried me through. The election was fought not with foils but with +rapiers. Against me were arrayed the entire wealth, rank, and fashion of the +city, reinforced by Conservative speakers famous for their parliamentary +eloquence, who were sent down to support Sir Thomas Colford. Nor was this all: +when it was recognised that the fight would be a close one, an eloquent and +leading member of the House was sent to intervene in person. He came and +addressed a vast meeting gathered in the biggest building of the city. Seated +among a crowd of workmen on a back bench I was one of his audience. His speech +was excellent, if somewhat too general and academic. To the “A.V.” +agitation, with a curious misapprehension of the state of the case, he devoted +one paragraph only. It ran something like this:— +</p> + +<p> +“I am told that our opponents, putting aside the great and general issues +upon which I have had the honour to address you, attempt to gain support by +entering upon a crusade—to my mind a most pernicious +crusade—against the law of compulsory vaccination. I am not concerned to +defend that law, because practically in the mind of all reasonable men it +stands beyond attack. It is, I am told, suggested that the Act should be +amended by freeing from the usual penalties any parent who chooses to advance a +plea of conscientious objection against the vaccination of his children. Such +an argument seems to me too puerile, I had almost said too wicked, to dwell +upon, for in its issue it would mean that at the whim of individuals innocent +children might be exposed to disease, disfigurement, and death, and the whole +community through them to a very real and imminent danger. Prophecy is +dangerous, but, speaking for myself as a private member of Parliament, I can +scarcely believe that responsible ministers of any party, moved by the pressure +of an ill-informed and erroneous opinion, would ever consent under this elastic +plea of conscience to establish such a precedent of surrender. Vaccination with +its proved benefits is outside the pale of party. After long and careful study, +science and the medical profession have given a verdict in its favour, a +verdict which has now been confirmed by the experience of generations. Here I +leave the question, and, turning once more before I sit down to those great and +general issues of which I have already spoken, I would again impress upon this +vast audience, and through it upon the constituency at large,” etc., +etc., etc. +</p> + +<p> +Within a year it was my lot to listen to an eminent leader of that +distinguished member (with the distinguished member’s tacit consent) +pressing upon an astonished House of Commons the need of yielding to the +clamour of the anti-vaccinationists, and of inserting into the Bill, framed +upon the report of a Royal Commission, a clause forbidding the prosecution of +parents or guardians willing to assert before a bench of magistrates that they +objected to vaccination on conscientious grounds. +</p> + +<p> +The appeal was not in vain; the Bill passed in its amended form; and within +twenty years I lived to see its fruits. +</p> + +<p> +At length came the polling day. After this lapse of time I remember little of +its details. I, as became a Democratic candidate, walked from polling-station +to polling-station, while my opponent, as became a wealthy banker, drove about +the city in a carriage and four. At eight o’clock the ballot-boxes were +sealed up and conveyed to the town-hall, where the counting commenced in the +presence of the Mayor, the candidates, their agents, and the necessary officers +and assistants. Box after box was opened and the papers counted out into +separate heaps, those for Colford into one pile, those for Therne into another, +the spoiled votes being kept by themselves. +</p> + +<p> +The counting began about half-past nine, and up to a quarter to twelve nobody +could form an idea as to the ultimate result, although at that time the +Conservative candidate appeared to be about five and thirty votes ahead. Then +the last ballot-box was opened; it came from a poor quarter of the city, a ward +in which I had many supporters. +</p> + +<p> +Sir Thomas Colford and I, with our little knots of agents and sub-agents, +placed ourselves one on each side of the table, waiting in respectful silence +while the clerk dealt out the papers, as a player deals out cards. It was an +anxious moment, as any one who has gone through a closely-contested +parliamentary election can testify. For ten days or more the strain had been +great, but, curiously enough, now at its climax it seemed to have lost its grip +of me. I watched the <i>dénoûment</i> of the game with keenness and interest +indeed, but as though I were not immediately and personally concerned. I felt +that I had done my best to win, and no longer cared whether my efforts ended in +success or failure. Possibly this was the result of the apathy that falls upon +overstrained nerves. Possibly I was oppressed by the fear of victory and of +that Nemesis which almost invariably dogs the steps of our accomplished +desires, of what the French writer calls <i>la page effrayante . . . des désirs +accomplis</i>. At least just then I cared nothing whether I won or lost, only I +reflected that in the latter event it would be sad to have told so many +falsehoods to no good purpose. +</p> + +<p> +“How does it stand?” asked the head Conservative agent of the +officer. +</p> + +<p> +The clerk took the last numbers from the counters and added up the figures. +</p> + +<p> +“Colford, 4303; Therne, 4291, and two more bundles to count.” +</p> + +<p> +Another packet was counted out. +</p> + +<p> +“How does it stand?” asked the agent. +</p> + +<p> +“Colford, 4349; Therne, 4327, and one more bundle of fifty to +count,” answered the clerk. +</p> + +<p> +The agent gave a sigh of relief and smiled; I saw him press Sir Thomas’s +hand in congratulations, for now he was sure that victory was theirs. +</p> + +<p> +“The game is up,” I whispered to Strong, who, as my principal +supporter, had been admitted with me to the hall. +</p> + +<p> +He ground his teeth and I noticed in the gaslight that his face was ghastly +pale and his lips were blue. +</p> + +<p> +“You had better go out,” I said, “you are overtaxing that +dilated heart of yours. Go home and take a sleeping draught.” +</p> + +<p> +“Damn you, no,” he answered fiercely in my ear, “those papers +come from the Little Martha ward, where I thought there wasn’t a wrong +’un in the crowd. If they’ve sold me, I’ll be even with them, +as sure as my name is Strong.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come,” I said with a laugh, “a good Radical shouldn’t +talk like that.” For me the bitterness was over, and, knowing the worst, +I could afford to laugh. +</p> + +<p> +The official opened the last packet and began to count aloud. +</p> + +<p> +The first vote was for “Therne,” but bad, for the elector had +written his name upon the paper. Then in succession came nine for +“Colford.” Now all interest in the result had died away, and a hum +of talk arose from those present in the room, a whispered murmur of +congratulations and condolences. No wonder, seeing that to win I must put to my +credit thirty-two of the forty remaining papers, which seemed a thing +impossible. +</p> + +<p> +The counter went on counting aloud and dealing down the papers as he counted. +One, two, three, four, and straight on up to ten for Therne, when he paused to +examine a paper, then “One for Colford.” Then, in rapid successful, +“Five, ten, fifteen for Therne.” +</p> + +<p> +Now the hum of conversation died away, for it was felt that this was becoming +interesting. Of course it was practically impossible that I should win, for +there were but fourteen papers left, and to do so I must secure eleven of them! +</p> + +<p> +“Sixteen for Therne,” went on the counter, “seventeen, +eighteen, nineteen, twenty.” +</p> + +<p> +Now the excitement grew intense, for if the run held in two more votes I should +tie. Every eye was fixed upon the counter’s hand. +</p> + +<p> +To the right and left of him on the table were two little piles of voting +papers. The pile to the right was the property of Colford, the pile to the left +was sacred to Therne. The paper was unfolded and glanced at, then up went the +hand and down floated the fateful sheet on to the left-hand pile. +“Twenty-one for Therne.” Again the process was repeated, and again +the left-hand pile was increased. “Twenty-two for Therne.” +</p> + +<p> +“By heaven! you’ve tied him,” gasped Stephen Strong. +</p> + +<p> +There were but seven papers left, and the candidate who secured four of them +would be the winner of the election. +</p> + +<p> +“Twenty-three for Therne, twenty-four, twenty-five”—a silence +in which you could hear the breath of other men and the beating of your own +heart. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Twenty-six for Therne</i>, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, +all for Therne.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, bursting from the lips of Stephen Strong, a shrill hoarse cry, more like +the cry of a beast than that of a man, and the words, “By God! +we’ve won. The A.V.’s have done it. Bravo the A.V.’s!” +</p> + +<p> +“Silence!” said the Mayor, bringing his fist down upon the table, +but so far as Stephen Strong was concerned, the order was superfluous, for +suddenly his face flushed, then turned a dreadful ashen grey, and down he sank +upon the floor. As I leant over him and began to loosen his collar, I heard the +Conservative agent say in strident tones:— +</p> + +<p> +“There is some mistake, there must be some mistake. It is almost +impossible that Dr. Therne can have polled twenty-nine votes in succession. On +behalf of Sir Thomas Colford, I demand a recount.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” answered some official, “let it be begun at +once.” +</p> + +<p> +In that ceremony I took no part; indeed, I spent the next two hours, with the +help of another doctor, trying to restore consciousness to Stephen Strong in a +little room that opened off the town-hall. Within half an hour Mrs. Strong +arrived. +</p> + +<p> +“He still breathes,” I said in answer to her questioning glance. +</p> + +<p> +Then the poor little woman sat herself down upon the edge of a chair, clasped +her hands and said, “If the Lord wills it, dear Stephen will live; and if +the Lord wills it, he will die.” +</p> + +<p> +This sentence she repeated at intervals until the end came. After two hours +there was a knocking at the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Go away,” I said, but the knocker would not go away. So I opened. +It was my agent, who whispered in an excited voice, “The count’s +quite correct, you are in by seven.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” I answered, “tell them we want some more +brandy.” +</p> + +<p> +At that moment Stephen Strong opened his eyes, and at that moment also there +arose a mighty burst of cheering from the crowd assembled on the market-place +without, to whom the Mayor had declared the numbers from a window of the +town-hall. +</p> + +<p> +The dying man heard the cheering, and looked at me inquiringly, for he could +not speak. I tried to explain that I was elected on the recount, but was unable +to make him understand. Then I hit upon an expedient. On the floor lay a +Conservative rosette of blue ribbon. I took it up and took also my own Radical +colours from my coat. Holding one of them in each hand before Strong’s +dying eyes, I lifted up the Radical orange and let the Conservative blue fall +to the floor. +</p> + +<p> +He saw and understood, for a ghastly smile appeared upon his distorted face. +Indeed, he did more—almost with his last breath he spoke in a hoarse, +gurgling whisper, and his words were, “<i>Bravo the +A.V.’s!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +Now he shut his eyes, and I thought that the end had come, but, opening them +presently, he fixed them with great earnestness first upon myself and then upon +his wife, accompanying the glance with a slight movement of the head. I did not +know what he could mean, but with his wife it was otherwise, for she said, +“Don’t trouble yourself, Stephen, I quite understand.” +</p> + +<p> +Five minutes more and it was over; Stephen Strong’s dilated heart had +contracted for the last time. +</p> + +<p> +“I see it has pleased the Lord that dear Stephen should die,” said +Mrs. Strong in her quiet voice. “When you have spoken to the people out +there, doctor, will you take me home? I am very sorry to trouble, but I saw +that after he was gone Stephen wished me to turn to you.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap09"></a>CHAPTER IX<br/> +FORTUNE</h2> + +<p> +My return to Parliament meant not only the loss of a seat to the Government, a +matter of no great moment in view of their enormous majority, but, probably, +through their own fears, was construed by them into a solemn warning not to be +disregarded. Certain papers and opposition speakers talked freely of the +writing on the wall, and none saw that writing in larger, or more fiery +letters, than the members of Her Majesty’s Government. I believe that to +them it took the form not of Hebraic characters, but of two large Roman +capitals, the letters A and V. +</p> + +<p> +Hitherto the anti-vaccinators had been known as troublesome people who had to +be reckoned with, but that they should prove strong enough to wrest what had +been considered one of the safest seats in the kingdom out of the hands of the +Unionists came upon the party as a revelation of the most unpleasant order. For +Stephen Strong’s dying cry, of which the truth was universally +acknowledged, “<i>The A.V.’s have done it. Bravo the +A.V.’s!</i>” had echoed through the length and breadth of the land. +</p> + +<p> +When a Government thinks that agitators are weak, naturally and properly it +treats them with contempt, but, when it finds that they are strong enough to +win elections, then their arguments become more worthy of consideration. And so +the great heart of the parliamentary Pharaoh began to soften towards the +anti-vaccinators, and of this softening the first signs were discernible within +three or four days of my taking my seat as member for Dunchester. +</p> + +<p> +I think I may say without vanity, and the statement will not be contradicted by +those who sat with me, that I made a good impression upon the House from the +first day I entered its doors. Doubtless its members had expected to find in me +a rabid person liable to burst into a foam of violence at the word +“vaccination,” and were agreeably surprised to find that I was much +as other men are, only rather quieter than most of them. I did not attempt to +force myself upon the notice of the House, but once or twice during the dinner +hour I made a few remarks upon subjects connected with public health which were +received without impatience, and, in the interval, I tried to master its forms, +and to get in touch with its temper. +</p> + +<p> +In those far-away and long-forgotten days a Royal Commission had been sitting +for some years to consider the whole question of compulsory vaccination; it was +the same before which I had been called to give evidence. At length this +commission delivered itself of its final report, a very sensible one in an +enormous blue-book, which if adopted would practically have continued the +existing Vaccination Acts with amendments. These amendments provided that in +future the public vaccinator should visit the home of the child, and, if the +conditions of that home and of the child itself were healthy, offer to +vaccinate it with glycerinated calf lymph. Also they extended the time during +which the parents and guardians were exempt from prosecution, and in various +ways mitigated the rigour of the prevailing regulations. The subject matter of +this report was embodied in a short Bill to amend the law and laid before +Parliament, which Bill went to a standing committee, and ultimately came up for +the consideration of the House. +</p> + +<p> +Then followed the great debate and the great surprise. A member moved that it +should be read that day six months, and others followed on the same side. The +President of the Local Government Board of the day, I remember, made a strong +speech in favour of the Bill, after which other members spoke, including +myself. But although about ninety out of every hundred of the individuals who +then constituted the House of Commons were strong believers in the merits of +vaccination, hardly one of them rose in his place to support the Bill. The +lesson of Dunchester amongst others was before their eyes, and, whatever their +private faith might be, they were convinced that if they did so it would lose +them votes at the next election. +</p> + +<p> +At this ominous silence the Government grew frightened, and towards the end of +the debate, to the astonishment of the House and of the country, the First Lord +of the Treasury rose and offered to insert a clause by virtue of which any +parent or other person who under the Bill would be liable to penalties for the +non-vaccination of a child, should be entirely freed from such penalties if +within four months of its birth he satisfied two justices of the peace that he +conscientiously believed that the operation would be prejudicial to that +child’s health. The Bill passed with the clause, which a few days later +was rejected by the House of Lords. Government pressure was put upon the Lords, +who thereon reversed their decision, and the Bill became an Act of Parliament. +</p> + +<p> +Thus the whole policy of compulsory vaccination, which for many years had been +in force in England, was destroyed at a single blow by a Government with a +great majority, and a House of Commons composed of members who, for the most +part, were absolute believers in its virtues. Never before did agitators meet +with so vast and complete a success, and seldom perhaps did a Government +undertake so great a responsibility for the sake of peace, and in order to +shelve a troublesome and dangerous dispute. It was a very triumph of +opportunism, for the Government, aided and abetted by their supporters, threw +over their beliefs to appease a small but persistent section of the electors. +Convinced that compulsory vaccination was for the benefit of the community, +they yet stretched the theory of the authority of the parent over the child to +such an unprecedented extent that, in order to satisfy his individual +prejudices, that parent was henceforth to be allowed to expose his helpless +infant to the risk of terrible disease and of death. +</p> + +<p> +It is not for me to judge their motives, which may have been pure and +excellent; my own are enough for me to deal with. But the fact remains that, +having power in their hands to impose the conclusions of a committee of experts +on the nation, and being as a body satisfied as to the soundness of those +conclusions, they still took the risk of disregarding them. Now the result of +their action is evident; now we have reaped the seed which they sowed, nor did +they win a vote or a “thank you” by their amiable and philosophic +concessions, which earned them no gratitude but indignation mingled with +something not unlike contempt. +</p> + +<p> +So much for the anti-vaccination agitation, on the crest of whose wave I was +carried to fortune and success. Thenceforward for many long years my career was +one of strange and startling prosperity. Dunchester became my pocket borough, +so much so, indeed, that at the three elections which occurred before the last +of which I have to tell no one even ventured to contest the seat against me. +Although I was never recognised as a leader of men, chiefly, I believe, because +of a secret distrust which was entertained as to my character and the sincerity +of my motives, session by session my parliamentary repute increased, till, in +the last Radical Government, I was offered, and for two years filled, the post +of Under-Secretary to the Home Office. Indeed, when at last we went to the +country over the question of the China War, I had in my pocket a discreetly +worded undertaking that, if our party succeeded at the polls, my claims to the +Home Secretaryship should be “carefully considered.” But it was not +fated that I should ever again cross the threshold of St. Stephen’s. +</p> + +<p> +So much for my public career, which I have only touched on in illustration of +my private and moral history. +</p> + +<p> +The reader may wonder how it came about that I was able to support myself and +keep up my position during all this space of time, seeing that my attendance in +Parliament made it impossible for me to continue in practise as a doctor. It +happened thus. +</p> + +<p> +When my old and true friend, Stephen Strong, died on the night of my election, +it was found that he was even richer than had been supposed, indeed his +personalty was sworn at 191,000 pounds, besides which he left real estate in +shops, houses and land to the value of about 23,000 pounds. Almost all of this +was devised to his widow absolutely, so that she could dispose of it in +whatever fashion pleased her. Indeed, there was but one other bequest, that of +the balance of the 10,000 pounds which the testator had deposited in the hands +of a trustee for my benefit. This was now left to me absolutely. I learned the +fact from Mrs. Strong herself as we returned from the funeral. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear Stephen has left you nearly 9000 pounds, doctor,” she said +shaking her head. +</p> + +<p> +Gathering from her manner and this shake of her head that the legacy was not +pleasing to her, I hastened to explain that doubtless it was to carry into +effect a business arrangement we had come to before I consented to stand for +Parliament. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, indeed,” she said, “that makes it worse, for it is only +the payment of a debt, not a gift.” +</p> + +<p> +Not knowing what she could mean, I said nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“Doubtless, doctor, if dear Stephen had been granted time he would have +treated you more liberally, seeing how much he thought of you, and that you had +given up your profession entirely to please him and serve the party. That is +what he meant when he looked at me before he died, I guessed it from the first, +and now I am sure of it. Well, doctor, while I have anything you shall never +want. Of course, a member of Parliament is a great person, expected to live in +a style which would take more money than I have, but I think that if I put my +own expenses at 500 pounds a year, which is as much as I shall want, and allow +another 1000 pounds for subscriptions to the anti-vaccination societies, the +society for preventing the muzzling of dogs, and the society for the discovery +of the lost Tribes of Israel, I shall be able to help you to the extent of 1200 +pounds a year, if,” she added apologetically, “you think you could +possibly get along on that.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, Mrs. Strong,” I said, “I have no claim at all upon +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Please do not talk nonsense, doctor. Dear Stephen wished me to provide +for you, and I am only carrying out his wishes with his own money which God +gave him perhaps for this very purpose, that it should be used to help a clever +man to break down the tyranny of wicked governments and false prophets.” +</p> + +<p> +So I took the money, which was paid with the utmost regularity on January the +first and June the first in each year. On this income I lived in comfort, +keeping up my house in Dunchester for the benefit of my little daughter and her +attendants, and hiring for my own use a flat quite close to the House of +Commons. +</p> + +<p> +As the years went by, however, a great anxiety took possession of me, for by +slow degrees Mrs. Strong grew as feeble in mind as already she was in body, +till at length, she could only recognise people at intervals, and became quite +incompetent to transact business. For a while her bankers went on paying the +allowance under her written and unrevoked order, but when they understood her +true condition, they refused to continue the payment. +</p> + +<p> +Now my position was very serious. I had little or nothing put by, and, having +ceased to practise for about seventeen years, I could not hope to earn an +income from my profession. Nor could I remain a member of the House, at least +not for long. Still, by dint of borrowing and the mortgage of some property +which I had acquired, I kept my head above water for about eighteen months. +Very soon, however, my financial distress became known, with the result that I +was no longer so cordially received as I had been either in Dunchester or in +London. The impecunious cannot expect to remain popular. +</p> + +<p> +At last things came to a climax, and I was driven to the step of resigning my +seat. I was in London at the time, and thence I wrote the letter to the +chairman of the Radical committee in Dunchester giving ill-health as the cause +of my retirement. When at length it was finished to my satisfaction, I went out +and posted it, and then walked along the embankment as far as Cleopatra’s +Needle and back again. It was a melancholy walk, taken, I remember, upon a +melancholy November afternoon, on which the dank mist from the river strove for +mastery with the gloomy shadows of advancing night. Not since that other +evening, many many years ago, when, after my trial, I found myself face to face +with ruin or death and was saved by Stephen Strong had my fortunes been at so +low an ebb. Now, indeed, they appeared absolutely hopeless, for I was no longer +young and fit to begin the world afresh; also, the other party being in power, +I could not hope to obtain any salaried appointment upon which to support +myself and my daughter. If Mrs. Strong had kept her reason all would have been +well, but she was insane, and I had no one to whom I could turn, for I was a +man of many acquaintances but few friends. +</p> + +<p> +Wearily I trudged back to my rooms to wait there until it was time to dress, +for I had a dinner engagement at the Reform Club. On the table in the little +hall lay a telegram, which I opened listlessly. It was from a well-known firm +of solicitors in Dunchester, and ran:— +</p> + +<p> +“Our client, Mrs. Strong, died suddenly at three o’clock. Important +that we should see you. Will you be in Dunchester to-morrow? If not, please say +where and at what hour we can wait upon you in town.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait upon you in town,” I said to myself as I laid down the +telegram. A great firm of solicitors would not wish to wait upon me unless they +had something to tell me to my advantage and their own. Mrs. Strong must have +left me some money. Possibly even I was her heir. More than once before in life +my luck had turned in this sudden way, why should it not happen again? But she +was insane and could not appoint an heir! Why had not those fools of lawyers +told me the facts instead of leaving me to the torment of this suspense? +</p> + +<p> +I glanced at the clock, then taking a telegraph form I wrote: “Shall be +at Dunchester Station 8:30. Meet me there or later at the club.” Taking a +cab I drove to St. Pancras, just in time to catch the train. In my +pocket—so closely was I pressed for money, for my account at the bank was +actually overdrawn—I had barely enough to pay for a third-class ticket to +Dunchester. This mattered little, however, for I always travelled third-class, +not because I liked it but because it looked democratic and the right sort of +thing for a Radical M.P. to do. +</p> + +<p> +The train was a fast one, but that journey seemed absolutely endless. Now at +length we had slowed down at the Dunchester signal-box, and now we were running +into the town. If my friend the lawyer had anything really striking to tell me +he would send to meet me at the station, and, if it was something remarkable, +he would probably attend there himself. Therefore, if I saw neither the +managing clerk nor the junior partner, nor the Head of the Firm, I might be +certain that the news was trivial, probably—dreadful thought which had +not occurred to me before—that I was appointed executor under the will +with a legacy of a hundred guineas. +</p> + +<p> +The train rolled into the station. As it began to glide past the pavement of +wet asphalt I closed my eyes to postpone the bitterness of disappointment, if +only for a few seconds. Perforce I opened them again as the train was stopping, +and there, the very first thing they fell upon, looking portly and imposing in +a fur coat, was the rubicund-faced Head of the Firm himself. “It +<i>is</i> good,” I thought, and supported myself for a moment by the +hat-rack, for the revulsion of feeling produced a sudden faintness. He saw me, +and sprang forward with a beaming yet respectful countenance. “It is +<i>very</i> good,” I thought. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear sir,” he began obsequiously, “I do trust that my +telegram has not incommoded you, but my news was such that I felt it necessary +to meet you at the earliest possible moment, and therefore wired to you at +every probable address.” +</p> + +<p> +I gave the porter who took my bag a shilling. Practically it was my last, but +that lawyer’s face and manner seemed to justify the expenditure +which—so oddly are our minds constituted—I remember reflecting I +might regret if I had drawn a false inference. The man touched his hat +profusely, and, I hope, made up his mind to vote for me next time. Then I +turned to the Head of the Firm and said:— +</p> + +<p> +“Pray, don’t apologise; but, by the way, beyond that of the death +of my poor friend, <i>what</i> is the news?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, perhaps you know it,” he answered, taken aback at my manner, +“though she always insisted upon its being kept a dead secret, so that +one day you might have a pleasant surprise.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know nothing,” I answered. +</p> + +<p> +“Then I am glad to be the bearer of such good intelligence to a fortunate +and distinguished man,” he said with a bow. “I have the honour to +inform you in my capacity of executor to the will of the late Mrs. Martha +Strong that, with the exception of a few legacies, you are left her sole +heir.” +</p> + +<p> +Now I wished that the hat-rack was still at hand, but, as it was not, I +pretended to stumble, and leant for a moment against the porter who had +received my last shilling. +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed,” I said recovering myself, “and can you tell me the +amount of the property?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not exactly,” he answered, “but she has led a very saving +life, and money grows, you know, money grows. I should say it must be between +three and four hundred thousand, nearer the latter than the former, +perhaps.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really,” I replied, “that is more than I expected; it is a +little astonishing to be lifted in a moment from the position of one with a +mere competence into that of a rich man. But our poor friend was—well, +weak-minded, so how could she be competent to make a binding will?” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear sir, her will was made within a month of her husband’s +death, when she was as sane as you are, as I have plenty of letters to show. +Only, as I have said, she kept the contents a dead secret, in order that one +day they might be a pleasant surprise to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” I answered, “all things considered, they have been a +pleasant surprise; I may say a <i>very</i> pleasant surprise. And now let us go +and have some dinner at the club. I feel tired and thirsty.” +</p> + +<p> +Next morning the letter that I had posted from London to the chairman of my +committee was, at my request, returned to me unopened. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap10"></a>CHAPTER X<br/> +JANE MEETS DR. MERCHISON</h2> + +<p> +Nobody disputed my inheritance, for, so far as I could learn, Mrs. Strong had +no relatives. Nor indeed could it have been disputed, for I had never so much +as hypnotised the deceased. When it was known how rich I had become I grew even +more popular in Dunchester than I had been before, also my importance increased +at headquarters to such an extent that on a change of Government I became, as I +have said, Under-Secretary to the Home Office. Although I was a useful man +hitherto I had always been refused any sort of office, because of the extreme +views which I professed—on platforms in the constituencies—or so +those in authority alleged. Now, however, these views were put down to amiable +eccentricity; moreover, I was careful not to obtrude them. Responsibility +sobers, and as we age and succeed we become more moderate, for most of us have +a method in our madness. +</p> + +<p> +In brief, I determined to give up political knight-errantry and to stick to +sober business. Very carefully and in the most conservative spirit I took stock +of the situation. I was still a couple of years on the right side of fifty, +young looking for my age (an advantage), a desirable <i>parti</i> (a great +advantage, although I had no intention of re-marrying), and in full health and +vigour. Further, I possessed a large fortune all in cash or in liquid assets, +and I resolved that it should not diminish. I had experienced enough of ups and +downs; I was sick of vicissitudes, of fears and uncertainties for the future. I +said to my soul: “Thou hast enough laid up for many days; eat, drink and +be merry,” and I proceeded to invest my modest competence in such a +fashion that it brought in a steady four per cent. No South African mines or +other soul-agonising speculations for me; sweet security was what I craved, and +I got it. I could live with great comfort, even with modest splendour, upon +about half my income, and the rest of it I purposed to lay out for my future +benefit. I had observed that brewers, merchants and other magnates with cash to +spare are in due course elevated to the peerage. Now I wished to be elevated to +the peerage, and to spend an honoured and honourable old age as Lord +Dunchester. So when there was any shortage of the party funds, and such a +shortage soon occurred on the occasion of an election, I posed as the friend +round the corner. +</p> + +<p> +Moreover, I had another aim. My daughter Jane had now grown into a lovely, +captivating and high-spirited young woman. To my fancy, indeed, I never saw her +equal in appearance, for the large dark eyes shining in a fair and +<i>spirituelle</i> face, encircled by masses of rippling chestnut hair, gave a +<i>bizarre</i> and unusual distinction to her beauty, which was enhanced by a +tall and graceful figure. She was witty also and self-willed, qualities which +she inherited from her American mother, moreover she adored me and believed in +me. I, who since my wife’s death had loved nothing else, loved this pure +and noble-minded girl as only a father can love, for my adoration had nothing +selfish in it, whereas that of the truest lover, although he may not know it, +is in its beginnings always selfish. He has something to gain, he seeks his own +happiness, the father seeks only the happiness of his child. +</p> + +<p> +On the whole, I think that the worship of this daughter of mine is a redeeming +point in my character, for which otherwise, sitting in judgment on it as I do +to-day, I have no respect. Jane understood that worship, and was grateful to me +for it. Her fine unsullied instinct taught her that whatever else about me +might be unsound or tarnished, this at least rang true and was beyond +suspicion. She may have seen my open faults and divined my secret weaknesses, +but for the sake of the love I bore her she overlooked them all, indeed she +refused to acknowledge them, to the extent that my worst political +extravagances became to her articles of faith. What I upheld was right; what I +denounced was wrong; on other points her mind was open and intelligent, but on +these it was a shut and bolted door. “My father says so,” was her +last argument. +</p> + +<p> +My position being such that I could ensure her a splendid future, I was +naturally anxious that she should make a brilliant marriage, since with +monstrous injustice destiny has decreed that a woman’s road to success +must run past the altar. But as yet I could find no man whom I considered +suitable or worthy. One or two I knew, but they were not peers, and I wished +her to marry a peer or a rising politician who would earn or inherit a peerage. +</p> + +<p> +And so, good easy man, I looked around me, and said that full surely my +greatness was a-ripening. Who thinks of winter and its frosts in the glow of +such a summer as I enjoyed? +</p> + +<p> +For a while everything went well. I took a house in Green Street, and +entertained there during the sitting of Parliament. The beauty of the hostess, +my daughter Jane, together with my own position and wealth, of which she was +the heiress, were sufficient to find us friends, or at any rate associates, +among the noblest and most distinguished in the land, and for several seasons +my dinner parties were some of the most talked about in London. To be asked to +one of them was considered a compliment, even by men who are asked almost +everywhere. +</p> + +<p> +With such advantages of person, intelligence and surroundings at her command, +Jane did not lack for opportunities of settling herself in life. To my +knowledge she had three offers in one season, the last of them from perhaps the +best and most satisfactory <i>parti</i> in England. But to my great and +ever-increasing dismay, one after another she refused them all. The first two +disappointments I bore, but on the third occasion I remonstrated. She listened +quite quietly, then said: +</p> + +<p> +“I am very sorry to vex you, father dear, but to marry a man whom I do +not care about is just the one thing I can’t do, even for your +sake.” +</p> + +<p> +“But surely, Jane,” I urged, “a father should have some voice +in such a matter.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think he has a right to say whom his daughter shall not marry, +perhaps, but not whom she shall marry.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, at least,” I said, catching at this straw, “will you +promise that you won’t become engaged to any one without my +consent?” +</p> + +<p> +Jane hesitated a little, and then answered: “What is the use of talking +of such a thing, father, as I have never seen anybody to whom I wish to become +engaged? But, if you like, I will promise you that if I should chance to see +any one and you don’t approve of him, I will not become engaged to him +for three years, by the end of which time he would probably cease to wish to +become engaged to me. But,” she added with a laugh, “I am almost +certain he wouldn’t be a duke or a lord, or anything of that sort, for, +provided a man is a gentleman, I don’t care twopence about his having a +title.” +</p> + +<p> +“Jane, don’t talk so foolishly,” I answered. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, father,” she said astonished, “if those are my +opinions at least I got them from you, for I was always brought up upon +strictly democratic principles. How often have I heard you declare in your +lectures down at Dunchester that men of our race are all equal—except the +working-man, who is better than the others—and that but for social +prejudice the ‘son of toil’ is worthy of the hand of any titled +lady in the kingdom?” +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t delivered that lecture for years,” I answered +angrily. +</p> + +<p> +“No, father, not since—let me see, not since old Mrs. Strong left +you all her money, and you were made an Under-Secretary of State, and lords and +ladies began to call on us. Now, I shouldn’t have said that, because it +makes you angry, but it is true, though, isn’t it?” and she was +gone. +</p> + +<p> +That August when the House rose we went down to a place that I owned on the +outskirts of Dunchester. It was a charming old house, situated in the midst of +a considerable estate that is famous for its shooting. This property had come +to me as part of Mrs. Strong’s bequest, or, rather, she held a heavy +mortgage on it, and when it was put up for sale I bought it in. As Jane had +taken a fancy to the house, which was large and roomy, with beautiful gardens, +I let my old home in the city, and when we were not in town we came to live at +Ashfields. +</p> + +<p> +On the borders of the Ashfields estate—indeed, part of the land upon +which it was built belongs to it—lies a poor suburb of Dunchester +occupied by workmen and their families. In these people Jane took great +interest; indeed, she plagued me till at very large expense I built a number of +model cottages for them, with electricity, gas and water laid on, and +bicycle-houses attached. In fact, this proved a futile proceeding, for the only +result was that the former occupants of the dwellings were squeezed out, while +persons of a better class, such as clerks, took possession of the model +tenements at a totally inadequate rent. +</p> + +<p> +It was in visiting some of the tenants of these cottages that in an evil hour +Jane first met Dr. Merchison, a young man of about thirty, who held some parish +appointment which placed the sick of this district under his charge. Ernest +Merchison was a raw-boned, muscular and rather formidable-looking person, of +Scotch descent, with strongly-marked features, deep-set eyes, and very long +arms. A man of few words, when he did speak his language was direct to the +verge of brusqueness, but his record as a medical man was good and even +distinguished, and already he had won the reputation of being the best surgeon +in Dunchester. This was the individual who was selected by my daughter Jane to +receive the affections which she had refused to some of the most polished and +admired men in England, and, as I believe, largely for the reason that, instead +of bowing and sighing about after her, he treated her with a rudeness which was +almost brutal. +</p> + +<p> +In one of these new model houses lived some people of the name of Smith. Mr. +Smith was a compositor, and Mrs. Smith, <i>née</i> Samuels, was none other than +that very little girl whom, together with her brother, who died, I had once +treated for erysipelas resulting from vaccination. In a way I felt grateful to +her, for that case was the beginning of my real success in life, and for this +reason, out of several applicants, the new model house was let to her husband +as soon as it was ready for occupation. +</p> + +<p> +Could I have foreseen the results which were to flow from an act of kindness, +and that as this family had indirectly been the cause of my triumph so they +were in turn to be the cause of my ruin, I would have destroyed the whole +street with dynamite before I allowed them to set foot in it. However, they +came, bringing with them two children, a little girl of four, to whom Jane took +a great fancy, and a baby of eighteen months. +</p> + +<p> +In due course these children caught the whooping-cough, and Jane visited them, +taking with her some delicacies as a present. While she was there Dr. Merchison +arrived in his capacity of parish doctor, and, beyond a curt bow taking no +notice of Jane, began his examination, for this was his first visit to the +family. Presently his eye fell upon a box of sweets. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s that?” he asked sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a present that Miss Therne here has brought for +Tottie,” answered the mother. +</p> + +<p> +“Then Tottie mustn’t eat them till she is well. Sugar is bad for +whooping-cough, though, of course, a young lady couldn’t be expected to +know that,” he added in a voice of gruff apology, then went on quickly, +glancing at the little girl’s arm, “No marks, I see. Conscientious +Objector? Or only lazy?” +</p> + +<p> +Then Mrs. Smith fired up and poured out her own sad history and that of her +poor little brother who died, baring her scarred arm in proof of it. +</p> + +<p> +“And so,” she finished, “though I do not remember much about +it myself, I do remember my mother’s dying words, which were ‘to +mind what the doctor had told her, and never to have any child of mine +vaccinated, no, not if they crawled on their knees to ask it of +me.’” +</p> + +<p> +“The doctor!” said Merchison with scorn, “you mean the idiot, +my good woman, or more likely the political agitator who would sell his soul +for a billet.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Jane rose in wrath. +</p> + +<p> +“I beg your pardon for interrupting you, sir,” she said, “but +the gentleman you speak of as an idiot or a political agitator is Dr. Therne, +my father, the member of Parliament for this city.” +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Merchison stared at her for a long while, and indeed when she was angry +Jane was beautiful enough to make any one stare, then he said simply, +“Oh, indeed. I don’t meddle with politics, so I didn’t +know.” +</p> + +<p> +This was too much for Jane, who, afraid to trust herself to further speech, +walked straight out of the cottage. She had passed down the model garden and +arrived at the model gate when she heard a quick powerful step behind her, and +turned round to find herself face to face with Dr. Merchison. +</p> + +<p> +“I have followed you to apologise, Miss Therne,” he said; “of +course I had no idea who you were and did not wish to hurt your feelings, but I +happen to have strong feelings about vaccination and spoke more roughly than I +ought to have done.” +</p> + +<p> +“Other people, sir, may also have strong opinions about +vaccination,” answered Jane. +</p> + +<p> +“I know,” he said, “and I know, too, what the end of it all +will be, as you will also, Miss Therne, if you live long enough. It is useless +arguing, the lists are closed and we must wait until the thing is put to the +proof of battle. When it is, one thing is sure, there will be plenty of +dead,” he added with a grim smile. Then taking off his hat and muttering, +“Again I apologise,” he returned into the cottage. +</p> + +<p> +It seems that for a while Jane was very angry. Then she remembered that, after +all, Dr. Merchison had apologised, and that he had made his offensive remarks +in the ignorance and prejudice which afflicted the entire medical profession +and were more worthy of pity than of anger. Further, she remembered that in her +indignation she had forgotten to acknowledge or accept his apology, and, +lastly, she asked him to a garden-party. +</p> + +<p> +It is scarcely necessary for me to dwell upon the subsequent developments of +this unhappy business—if I am right in calling it unhappy. The piteous +little drama is played, both the actors are dead, and the issue of the piece is +unknown and, for the present, unknowable. Bitterly opposed as I was to the suit +of Merchison, justice compels me to say that, under the cloak of a rough +unpromising manner, he hid a just and generous heart. Had that man lived he +might have become great, although he would never have become popular. As least +something in his nature attracted my daughter Jane, for she, who up to that +time had not been moved by any man, became deeply attached to him. +</p> + +<p> +In the end he proposed to her, how, when or where I cannot say, for I never +inquired. One morning, I remember it was that of Christmas Day, they came into +my library, the pair of them, and informed me how matters stood. Merchison went +straight to the point and put the case before me very briefly, but in a manly +and outspoken fashion. He said that he quite understood the difficulties of his +position, inasmuch as he believed that Jane was, or would be, very rich, +whereas he had nothing beyond his profession, in which, however, he was doing +well. He ended by asking my consent to the engagement subject to any reasonable +conditions that I might choose to lay down. +</p> + +<p> +To me the shock was great, for, occupied as I was with my own affairs and +ambitions, I had been blind to what was passing before my face. I had hoped to +see my daughter a peeress, and now I found her the affianced bride of a parish +sawbones. The very foundation of my house of hopes was sapped; at a blow all my +schemes for the swift aggrandisement of my family were laid low. It was too +much for me. Instead of accepting the inevitable, and being glad to accept it +because my child’s happiness was involved, I rebelled and kicked against +the pricks. +</p> + +<p> +By nature I am not a violent man, but on that occasion I lost my temper and +became violent. I refused my consent; I threatened to cut my daughter off with +nothing, but at this argument she and her lover smiled. Then I took another +ground, for, remembering her promise that she would consent to be separated for +three years from any suitor of whom I did not approve, I claimed its +fulfilment. +</p> + +<p> +Somewhat to my surprise, after a hurried private consultation, Jane and her +lover accepted these conditions, telling me frankly that they would wait for +three years, but that after these had gone by they would consider themselves at +liberty to marry, with my consent if possible, but, if necessary, without it. +Then in my presence they kissed and parted, nor until the last did either of +them attempt to break the letter of their bond. Once indeed they met before +that dreadful hour, but then it was the workings of fate that brought them +together and not their own design. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap11"></a>CHAPTER XI<br/> +THE COMING OF THE RED-HEADED MAN</h2> + +<p> +Half of the three years of probation had gone by and once more we found +ourselves at Dunchester in August. Under circumstances still too recent to need +explanation, the Government of which I was a member had decided to appeal to +the country, the General Election being fixed for the end of September, after +the termination of harvest. Dunchester was considered to be a safe Radical +seat, and, as a matter of parliamentary tactics, the poll for this city, +together with that of eight or ten other boroughs, was fixed for the earliest +possible day, in the hope that the results might encourage more doubtful places +to give their support. Constituencies are very like sheep, and if the leaders +jump through a certain gap in the political hedge the flock, or a large +proportion of it, will generally follow. All of us like to be on the winning +side. +</p> + +<p> +Few people who are old enough to remember it will ever forget the August of two +years ago, if only because of the phenomenal heat. Up to that month the year +had been very cold, so cold that even during July there were some evenings when +a fire was welcome, while on several days I saw people driving about the roads +wrapped up in heavy ulsters. But with the first day of August all this changed, +and suddenly the climate became torrid, the nights especially being +extraordinarily hot. From every quarter of the country came complaints of the +great heat, while each issue of the newspapers contained lists of those who had +fallen victims to it. +</p> + +<p> +One evening, feeling oppressed in the tree-enclosed park of Ashfields, I +strolled out of it into the suburb of which I have spoken. Almost opposite the +private garden of the park stands a board school, and in front of this board +school I had laid out an acre of land presented by myself, as a playground and +open space for the use of the public. In the centre of this garden was a +fountain that fell into a marble basin, and around the fountain, but at some +distance from it, stood iron seats. To these I made my way and sat down on one +of them, which was empty, in order to enjoy the cool sound of the splashing +water, about which a large number of children were playing. +</p> + +<p> +Presently, as I sat thus, I lifted my eyes and saw the figure of a man +approaching towards the other side of the fountain. He was quite fifty yards +away from me, so that his features were invisible, but there was something +about his general aspect which attracted my attention at once. To begin with, +he looked small and lonely, all by himself out there on the wide expanse of +gravel; moreover, the last rays of the setting sun, striking full upon him, +gave him a fiery and unnatural appearance against the dense background of +shadows beyond. It is a strange and dreadful coincidence, but by some +extraordinary action of the mind, so subtle that I cannot trace the link, the +apparition of this man out of the gloom into the fierce light of the sunset +reminded me of a picture that I had once seen representing the approach to the +Norwegian harbour of the ship which brought the plague to the shores of +Scandinavia. In the picture that ship also was clothed with the fires of +sunset, while behind it lay the blackness of approaching night. Like this +wanderer that ship also came forward, slowly indeed, but without pause, as +though alive with a purpose of its own, and I remember that awaiting it upon +the quay were a number of merry children. +</p> + +<p> +Shaking myself free from this ridiculous but unpleasant thought, I continued to +observe the man idly. Clearly he was one of the great army of tramps, for his +coat was wide and ragged and his hat half innocent of rim, although there was +something about his figure which suggested to me that he had seen better days. +I could even imagine that under certain circumstances I might have come to look +very much like this poor man, now doubtless turned into a mere animal by drink. +He drew on with a long slow step, his head stretched forward, his eyes fixed +upon the water, as he walked now and again lifting a long thin hand and +scraping impatiently at his face and head. +</p> + +<p> +“That poor fellow has got a touch of prickly heat and is thirsty,” +I thought, nor was I mistaken, for, on arriving at the edge of the fountain, +the tramp knelt down and drank copiously, making a moaning sound as he gulped +the water, which was very peculiar and unpleasant to hear. When he had +satisfied his thirst, he sat himself upon the marble edge of the basin and +suddenly plunged his legs, boots and all, into the water. Its touch seemed to +please him, for with a single swift movement he slipped in altogether, sitting +himself down on the bottom of the basin in such fashion that only his face and +fiery red beard, from which the hat had fallen, remained above the surface, +whereon they seemed to float like some monstrous and unnatural growth. +</p> + +<p> +This unusual proceeding on the part of the tramping stranger at once excited +the most intense interest in the mind of every child on the playground, with +the result that in another minute forty or fifty of them had gathered round the +fountain, laughing and jeering at its occupant. Again the sight brought to my +mind a strained and disagreeable simile, for I bethought me of the dreadful +tale of Elisha and of the fate which overtook the children who mocked him. +Decidedly the heat had upset my nerves that night, nor were they soothed when +suddenly from the red head floating upon the water came a flute-like and +educated voice, saying— +</p> + +<p> +“Cease deriding the unfortunate, children, or I will come out of this +marble bath and tickle you.” +</p> + +<p> +Thereat they laughed all the more, and began to pelt the bather with little +stones and bits of stick. +</p> + +<p> +At first I thought of interfering, but as it occurred to me that the man would +probably be violent or abusive if I spoke to him, and as, above all things, I +disliked scenes, I made up my mind to fetch a policeman, whom I knew I should +find round the corner about a hundred yards away. I walked to the corner, but +did not find the policeman, whereon I started across the square to look for him +at another point. My road led me past the fountain, and, as I approached it, I +saw that the water-loving wanderer had been as good as his word. He had emerged +from the fountain, and, rushing to and fro raining moisture from his wide coat, +despite their shrieks half of fear and half of laughter, he grabbed child after +child and, drawing it to him, tickled and kissed it, laughing dementedly all +the while, in a fashion which showed me that he was suffering from some form of +mania. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as he saw me the man dropped the last child he had caught—it was +little Tottie Smith—and began to stride away towards the city at the same +slow, regular, purposeful gait with which I had seen him approach the fountain. +As he passed he turned and made a grimace at me, and then I saw his dreadful +face. No wonder it had looked red at a distance, for the <i>erythema</i> almost +covered it, except where, on the forehead and cheeks, appeared purple spots and +patches. +</p> + +<p> +Of what did it remind me? +</p> + +<p> +Great Heaven! I remembered. It reminded me of the face of that girl I had seen +lying in the <i>plaza</i> of San Jose, in Mexico, over whom the old woman was +pouring water from the fountain, much such a fountain as that before me, for +half unconsciously, when planning this place, I had reproduced its beautiful +design. It all came back to me with a shock, the horrible scene of which I had +scarcely thought for years, so vividly indeed that I seemed to hear the old +hag’s voice crying in cracked accents, “<i>Si, senor, viruela, +viruela!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +I ought to have sent to warn the police and the health officers of the city, +for I was sure that the man was suffering from what is commonly called +confluent smallpox. But I did not. From the beginning there has been something +about this terrible disease which physically and morally has exercised so great +an influence over my destiny, that seemed to paralyse my mental powers. In my +day I was a doctor fearless of any other contagion; typhus, scarletina, +diphtheria, yellow fever, none of them had terrors for me. And yet I was afraid +to attend a case of smallpox. From the same cause, in my public speeches I made +light of it, talking of it with contempt as a sickness of small account, much +as a housemaid talks in the servants’ hall of the ghost which is supposed +to haunt the back stairs. +</p> + +<p> +And now, coming as it were from that merry and populous chamber of life and +health, once again I met the Spectre I derided, a red-headed, red-visaged Thing +that chose me out to stop and grin at. Somehow I was not minded to return and +announce the fact. +</p> + +<p> +“Why,” they would say, “<i>you</i> were the one who did not +believe in ghosts. It was <i>you</i> who preached of vile superstitions, and +yet merely at the sight of a shadow you rush in with trembling hands and +bristling hair to bid us lay it with bell, book, and candle. Where is your +faith, O prophet?” +</p> + +<p> +It was nonsense; the heat and all my incessant political work had tried me and +I was mistaken. That tramp was a drunken, or perhaps a crazy creature, +afflicted with some skin disease such as are common among his class. Why did I +allow the incident to trouble me? +</p> + +<p> +I went home and washed out my mouth, and sprinkled my clothes with a strong +solution of permanganate of potash, for, although my own folly was evident, it +is always as well to be careful, especially in hot weather. Still I could not +help wondering what might happen if by any chance smallpox were to get a hold +of a population like that of Dunchester, or indeed of a hundred other places in +England. +</p> + +<p> +Since the passing of the famous Conscience Clause many years before, as was +anticipated would be the case, and as the anti-vaccinators intended should be +the case, vaccination had become a dead letter amongst at least seventy-five +per cent. of the people.[*] Our various societies and agents were not content +to let things take their course and to allow parents to vaccinate their +children, or to leave them unvaccinated as they might think fit. On the +contrary, we had instituted a house-to-house canvass, and our visitors took +with them forms of conscientious objection, to be filled in by parents or +guardians, and legally witnessed. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*] Since the above was written the author has read in the press that in +Yorkshire a single bench of magistrates out of the hundreds in England has +already granted orders on the ground of “conscientious objection,” +under which some 2000 children are exempted from the scope of the Vaccination +Acts. So far as he has seen this statement has not been contradicted. At +Ipswich also about 700 applications, affecting many children, have been filed. +To deal with these the Bench is holding special sessions, sitting at seven +o’clock in the evening. +</p> + +<p> +At first the magistrates refused to accept these forms, but after a while, when +they found how impossible it was to dive into a man’s conscience and to +decide what was or what was not “conscientious objection,” they +received them as sufficient evidence, provided only that they were sworn before +some one entitled to administer oaths. Many of the objectors did not even take +the trouble to do as much as this, for within five years of the passing of the +Act, in practice the vaccination laws ceased to exist. The burden of +prosecution rested with Boards of Guardians, popularly elected bodies, and what +board was likely to go to the trouble of working up a case and to the expense +of bringing it before the court, when, to produce a complete defence, the +defendant need only declare that he had a conscientious objection to the law +under which the information was laid against him? Many idle or obstinate or +prejudiced people would develop conscientious objections to anything which +gives trouble or that they happen to dislike. For instance, if the same +principle were applied to education, I believe that within a very few years not +twenty-five per cent. of the children belonging to the classes that are +educated out of the rates would ever pass the School Board standards. +</p> + +<p> +Thus it came about that the harvest was ripe, and over ripe, awaiting only the +appointed sickle of disease. Once or twice already that sickle had been put in, +but always before the reaping began it was stayed by the application of the +terrible rule of isolation known as the improved Leicester system. +</p> + +<p> +Among some of the natives of Africa when smallpox breaks out in a kraal, that +kraal is surrounded by guards and its inhabitants are left to recover or +perish, to starve or to feed themselves as chance and circumstance may dictate. +During the absence of the smallpox laws the same plan, more mercifully applied, +prevailed in England, and thus the evil hour was postponed. But it was only +postponed, for like a cumulative tax it was heaping up against the country, and +at last the hour had come for payment to an authority whose books must be +balanced without remittance or reduction. What is due to nature that nature +takes in her own way and season, neither less nor more, unless indeed the skill +and providence of man can find means to force her to write off the debt. +</p> + +<p> +Five days after my encounter with the red-headed vagrant, the following +paragraph appeared in one of the local papers: “Pocklingham. In the +casual ward of the Union house for this district a tramp, name unknown, died +last night. He had been admitted on the previous evening, but, for some +unexplained reason, it was not noticed until the next morning that he suffered +from illness, and, therefore, he was allowed to mix with the other inmates in +the general ward. Drs. Butt and Clarkson, who were called in to attend, state +that the cause of death was the worst form of smallpox. The body will be buried +in quicklime, but some alarm is felt in the district owing to the deceased, +who, it is said, arrived here from Dunchester, where he had been frequenting +various tramps’ lodgings, having mixed with a number of other vagrants, +who left the house before the character of his sickness was discovered, and who +cannot now be traced. The unfortunate man was about forty years of age, of +medium height, and red-haired.” +</p> + +<p> +The same paper had an editorial note upon this piece of news, at the end of +which it remarked, as became a party and an anti-vaccination organ: “The +terror of this ‘filth disease,’ which in our fathers’ time +amounted almost to insanity, no longer afflicts us, who know both that its +effects were exaggerated and how to deal with it by isolation without recourse +to the so-called vaccine remedies, which are now rejected by a large proportion +of the population of these islands. Still, as we have ascertained by inquiry +that this unfortunate man did undoubtedly spend several days and nights +wandering about our city when in an infectious condition, it will be as well +that the authorities should be on the alert. We do not want that hoary +veteran—the smallpox scare—to rear its head again in Dunchester, +least of all just now, when, in view of the imminent election, the accustomed +use would be made of it by our prejudiced and unscrupulous political +opponents.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” I said to myself as I put the paper down, “certainly we +do not want a smallpox scare just now, and still less do we want the +smallpox.” Then I thought of that unfortunate red-headed wretch, crazy +with the torment of his disease, and of his hideous laughter, as he hunted and +caught the children who made a mock of him—the poor children, scarcely +one of whom was vaccinated. +</p> + +<p> +A week later I opened my political campaign with a large public meeting in the +Agricultural Hall. Almost up to the nomination day no candidate was forthcoming +on the other side, and I thought that, for the fourth time, I should be +returned unopposed. Of a sudden, however, a name was announced, and it proved +to be none other than that of my rival of many years ago—Sir Thomas +Colford—now like myself growing grey-headed, but still vigorous in mind +and body, and as much respected as ever by the wealthier and more educated +classes of our community. His appearance in the field put a new complexion on +matters; it meant, indeed, that instead of the easy and comfortable walk over +which I had anticipated, I must fight hard for my political existence. +</p> + +<p> +In the course of my speech, which was very well received, for I was still +popular in the town even among the more moderate of my opponents, I dwelt upon +Sir Thomas Colford’s address to the electorate which had just come into +my hands. In this address I was astonished to see a paragraph advocating, +though in a somewhat guarded fashion, the re-enactment of the old laws of +compulsory vaccination. In a draft which had reached me two days before through +some underground channel, this paragraph had not appeared, thus showing that it +had been added by an afterthought and quite suddenly. However, there it was, +and I made great play with it. +</p> + +<p> +What, I asked the electors of Dunchester, could they think of a man who in +these modern and enlightened days sought to reimpose upon a free people the +barbarous infamies of the Vaccination Acts? Long ago we had fought that fight, +and long ago we had relegated them to <i>limbo</i>, where, with such things as +instruments of torment, papal bulls and writs of attainder, they remained to +excite the wonder and the horror of our own and future generations. +</p> + +<p> +Well would it have been for me if I had stopped here, but, led away by the +subject and by the loud cheers that my treatment of it, purposely flamboyant, +never failed to evoke, forgetful too for the moment of the Red-headed Man, I +passed on to deductions. Our opponents had prophesied, I said, that within ten +years of the passing of the famous Conscience Clause smallpox would be rampant. +Now what were the facts? Although almost twice that time had gone by, here in +Dunchester we had suffered far less from smallpox than during the compulsory +period, for at no one time during all these eighteen or twenty years had three +cases been under simultaneous treatment within the confines of the city. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, there are five now,” called out a voice from the back of the +hall. +</p> + +<p> +I drew myself up and made ready to wither this untruthful brawler with my best +election scorn, when, of a sudden, I remembered the Red-headed Man, and passed +on to the consideration of foreign affairs. +</p> + +<p> +From that moment all life went out of my speech, and, as it seemed to me, the +enthusiasm of the meeting died away. As soon as it was over I made inquiries, +to find that the truth had been hidden from me—there were five, if not +seven cases of smallpox in different parts of the city, and the worst feature +of the facts was that three of the patients were children attending different +schools. One of these children, it was ascertained, had been among those who +were playing round the fountain about a fortnight since, although he was not +one whom the red-haired tramp had touched, but the other two had not been near +the fountain. The presumption was, therefore, that they had contracted the +disease through some other source of infection, perhaps at the lodging-house +where the man had spent the night after bathing in the water. Also it seemed +that, drawn thither by the heat, in all two or three hundred children had +visited the fountain square on this particular evening, and that many of them +had drunk water out of the basin. +</p> + +<p> +Never do I remember feeling more frightened than when these facts came to my +knowledge, for, added to the possible terrors of the position, was my +constitutional fear of the disease which I have already described. On my way +homewards I met a friend who told me that one of the children was dead, the +malady, which was of an awful type, having done its work very swiftly. +</p> + +<p> +Like a first flake from a snow-cloud, like a first leaf falling in autumn from +among the myriads on some great tree, so did this little life sink from our +number into the silence of the grave. Ah! how many were to follow? There is a +record, I believe, but I cannot give it. In Dunchester alone, with its +population of about 50,000, I know that we had over 5000 deaths, and Dunchester +was a focus from which the pestilence spread through the kingdom, destroying +and destroying and destroying with a fury that has not been equalled since the +days of the Black Death. +</p> + +<p> +But all this was still to come, for the plague did not get a grip at once. An +iron system of isolation was put in force, and every possible means was adopted +by the town authorities, who, for the most part, were anti-vaccinationists, to +suppress the facts, a task in which they were assisted by the officials of the +Local Government Board, who had their instructions on the point. As might have +been expected, the party in power did not wish the political position to be +complicated by an outcry for the passing of a new smallpox law, so few returns +were published, and as little information as possible was given to the papers. +</p> + +<p> +For a while there was a lull; the subject of smallpox was <i>taboo</i>, and +nobody heard much about it beyond vague and indefinite rumours. Indeed, most of +us were busy with the question of the hour—the eternal question of beer, +its purity and the method of its sale. For my part, I made few inquiries; like +the ostrich of fable I hid my head in the sands of political excitement, hoping +that the arrows of pestilence would pass us by. +</p> + +<p> +And yet, although I breathed no word of my fears to a living soul, in my heart +I was terribly afraid. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap12"></a>CHAPTER XII<br/> +THE SHADOW OF PESTILENCE</h2> + +<p> +Very soon it became evident that the fight in Dunchester would be severe, for +the electorate, which for so many years had been my patient servant, showed +signs of rebelling against me and the principles I preached. Whether the voters +were moved by a desire for change, whether they honestly disagreed with me, or +whether a secret fear of the smallpox was the cause of it, I do not know, but +it is certain that a large proportion of them began to look upon me and my +views with distrust. +</p> + +<p> +At any other time this would not have caused me great distress; indeed defeat +itself would have had consolations, but now, when I appeared to be on the verge +of real political distinction, the mere thought of failure struck me with +dismay. To avoid it, I worked as I had not worked for years. Meetings were held +nightly, leaflets were distributed by the ton, and every house in the city was +industriously visited by my canvassers, who were divided into bands and +officers like a regiment. +</p> + +<p> +The head of one of these bands was my daughter Jane, and never did a candidate +have a more able or enthusiastic lieutenant. She was gifted with the true +political instinct, which taught her what to say and what to leave unsaid, when +to press a point home and when to abandon it for another; moreover, her +personal charm and popularity fought for her cause. +</p> + +<p> +One evening, as she was coming home very tired after a long day’s work in +the slums of the city, Jane arrived at the model cottages outside my park +gates. Having half an hour to spare, she determined to visit a few of their +occupants. Her second call was on the Smith family. +</p> + +<p> +“I am glad to see you now as always, miss,” said Mrs. Smith, +“but we are in trouble here.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, is little Tottie ill again?” Jane asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No, miss, it isn’t Tottie this time, it’s the baby. +She’s got convulsions, or something like it, and I’ve sent for Dr. +Merchison. Would you like to see her? She’s lying in the front +room.” +</p> + +<p> +Jane hesitated. She was tired and wanted to get home with her canvass cards. +But the woman looked tired too and in need of sympathy; possibly also, for +nature is nature, Jane hoped that if she lingered there a little, without in +any way violating her promise, she might chance to catch a brief glimpse of the +man she loved. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I will come in for a minute,” she answered and followed Mrs. +Smith into the room. +</p> + +<p> +On a cheap cane couch in the corner, at the foot of which the child, Tottie, +was playing with a doll, lay the baby, an infant of nearly three. The +convulsive fit had passed away and she was sitting up supported by a pillow, +the fair hair hanging about her flushed face, and beating the blanket with her +little fevered hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Take me, mummy, take me, I thirsty,” she moaned. +</p> + +<p> +“There, that’s how she goes on all day and it fairly breaks my +heart to see her,” said the mother, wiping away a tear with her apron. +“If you’ll be so kind as to mind her a minute, miss, I’ll go +and make a little lemonade. I’ve got a couple of oranges left, and she +seems to like them best of anything.” +</p> + +<p> +Jane’s heart was stirred, and, leaning down, she took the child in her +arms. “Go and get the drink,” she said, “I will look after +her till you come,” and she began to walk up and down the room rocking +the little sufferer to and fro. +</p> + +<p> +Presently she looked up to see Dr. Merchison standing in the doorway. +</p> + +<p> +“Jane, you here!” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Ernest.” +</p> + +<p> +He stepped towards her, and, before she could turn away or remonstrate, bent +down and kissed her on the lips. +</p> + +<p> +“You shouldn’t do that, dear,” she said, “it’s +out of the bargain.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps I shouldn’t,” he answered, “but I +couldn’t help it. I said that I would keep clear of you, and if I have +met you by accident it is not my fault. Come, let me have a look at that +child.” +</p> + +<p> +Taking the little girl upon his knee, he began to examine her, feeling her +pulse and looking at her tongue. For a while he seemed puzzled, then Jane saw +him take a little magnifying glass from his pocket and by the help of it search +the skin of the patient’s forehead, especially just at the roots of the +hair. After this he looked at the neck and wrists, then set the child down on +the couch, waving Jane back when she advanced to take it, and asked the mother, +who had just entered the room with the lemonade, two or three short, quick +questions. +</p> + +<p> +Next he turned to Jane and said— +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want to frighten you, but you will be as well out of this. +It’s lucky for you,” he added with a little smile, “that when +you were born it wasn’t the fashion for doctors to be +anti-vaccinationists, for, unless I am much mistaken, that child has got +smallpox.” +</p> + +<p> +“Smallpox!” said Jane, then added aggressively, “Well, now we +shall see whose theory is right, for, as you saw, I was nursing her, and I have +never been vaccinated in my life. My father would not allow it, and I have been +told that it won him his first election.” +</p> + +<p> +Ernest Merchison heard, and for a moment his face became like that of a man in +a fit. +</p> + +<p> +“The wicked——” he began, and stopped himself by biting +his lips till the blood came. Recovering his calm with an effort, he turned to +Jane and said in a hoarse voice:— +</p> + +<p> +“There is still a chance; it may be in time; yes, I am almost sure that I +can save you.” Then he plunged his hand into his breast pocket and drew +out a little case of instruments. “Be so good as to bare your left +arm,” he said; “fortunately, I have the stuff with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“What for?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“To be vaccinated.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you mad, Ernest?” she said. “You know who I am and how I +have been brought up; how, then, can you suppose that I would allow you to put +that poison into my veins?” +</p> + +<p> +“Look here, Jane, there isn’t much time for argument, but just +listen to me for one minute. You know I am a pretty good doctor, don’t +you? for I have that reputation, haven’t I? and I am sure that you +believe in me. Well, now, just on this one point and for this one occasion I am +going to ask you to give up your own opinion and to suppose that in this matter +I am right and your father is wrong. I will go farther, and say that if any +harm comes to you from this vaccination beyond the inconvenience of a swollen +arm, you may consider all that has been between us as nothing and never speak +to me again.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s not the point,” she answered. “If you +vaccinated me and my arm fell off in consequence I shouldn’t care for you +a bit the less, because I should know that you were the victim of a foolish +superstition, and believed what you were doing to be right. No, Ernest, it is +of no use; I can assure you that I know a great deal more about this subject +than you do. I have read all the papers and statistics and heard the cleverest +men in England lecture upon it, and nothing, nothing, <i>nothing</i> will ever +induce me to submit to that filthy, that revolting operation.” +</p> + +<p> +He heard and groaned, then he tried another argument. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen,” he said: “you have been good enough to tell +me—several times—well, that you loved me, and, forgive me for +alluding to it, but I think that once you were so foolish as to say that you +cared for me so much that you would give your very existence if it could make +me happy. Now, I ask you for nothing half so great as that; I ask you to submit +to a trifling inconvenience, and, so far as you are personally concerned, to +waive a small prejudice for my sake, or, perhaps I had better say, to give in +to my folly. Can’t you do as much as that for me, Jane?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ernest,” she answered hoarsely, “if you asked anything else +of me in the world I would do it—yes, anything you can think of—but +this I can’t do and won’t do.” +</p> + +<p> +“In God’s name, why not?” he cried. +</p> + +<p> +“Because to do it would be to declare my father a quack and a liar, and +to show that I, his daughter, from whom if from anybody he has a right to +expect faith and support, have no belief in him and the doctrine that he has +taught for twenty years. That is the truth, and it is cruel of you to make me +say it.” +</p> + +<p> +Ernest Merchison ground his teeth, understanding that in face of this +woman’s blind fidelity all argument and appeal were helpless. Then in his +love and despair he formed a desperate resolve. Yes, he was very strong, and he +thought that he could do it. +</p> + +<p> +Catching her suddenly round the waist he thrust her into a cottage armchair +which stood by, and, despite her struggles, began to cut at the sleeve of her +dress with the lancet in his hand. But soon he realised that the task was +hopeless. +</p> + +<p> +“Ernest Merchison,” she said, as she escaped from him with blazing +eyes and catching breath, “you have done what I will never forgive. Go +your own way in life and I will go mine.” +</p> + +<p> +“——To <i>death</i>, Jane.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she walked out of the house and through the garden gate. When she had gone +ten or fifteen yards she looked back to see her lover standing by the gate, his +face buried in his hands, and his strong frame shaking with sobs. For a moment +Jane relented; it was terrible to see this reserved and self-reliant man thus +weeping openly, and she knew that the passion must be mighty which would bring +him to this pass. In her heart, indeed, she had never loved him better than at +this moment; she loved him even for his brutal attempt to vaccinate her by +force, because she understood what instigated the brutality. But then she +remembered the insult—she to be seized like a naughty child who will not +take its dose, and in the presence of another woman. And, so remembering, she +hardened her heart and passed out of his sight towards the gateways of the +grave. +</p> + +<p> +At that time Jane said nothing of her adventure to me, though afterwards I +learned every detail of it from her and Mrs. Smith. She did not even tell me +that she had visited the Smiths’ cottage until one morning, about eight +days afterwards, when some blundering servant informed us at breakfast that the +baby Smith was dead of the smallpox in the hospital, and that the other child +was dangerously ill. I was shocked beyond measure, for this brought the thing +home, the people lived almost at my gates. Now I remembered that I had seen the +red-headed tramp catch the child Tottie in his arms. Doubtless she introduced +the infection, though, strangely enough, her little sister developed the +disease before her. +</p> + +<p> +“Jane,” I said when the servant had left, “did you hear about +the Smith baby?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, father,” she answered languidly, “I knew that it had +smallpox a week ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then why did you not tell me, and how did you know?” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t tell you, dear, because the mere mention of smallpox +always upsets you so much, especially just now with all this election worry +going on; and I knew it because I was at the Smiths’ cottage and nursing +the baby when the doctor came in and said it was smallpox.” +</p> + +<p> +“You were nursing the baby!” I almost screamed as I sprang from my +seat. “Great heavens, girl; why, you will infect the whole place.” +</p> + +<p> +“That was what Ernest—Dr. Merchison—seemed to think. He +wanted to vaccinate me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, and did you let him?” +</p> + +<p> +“How can you ask me such a question, father, remembering what you have +always taught me? I said——” and with omissions she told me +the gist of what had passed between them. +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t mean that,” I answered when she had done. “I +thought that perhaps under the influence of shock——Well, as usual, +you showed your wisdom, for how can one poison kill another poison?” and, +unable to bear it any longer, making some excuse, I rose and left the room. +</p> + +<p> +Her wisdom! Great heavens, her wisdom! Why did not that fool, Merchison, +insist? He should have authority over her if any man had. And now it was too +late—now no vaccination on earth could save her, unless by chance she had +escaped infection, which was scarcely to be hoped. Indeed, such a thing was +hardly known as that an unvaccinated person coming into immediate contact with +a smallpox patient after the eruption had appeared, should escape infection. +</p> + +<p> +What did this mean? It meant that within a few days Jane, my only and darling +child, the very hope and centre of my life, would be in the fangs of one of the +most dreadful and dangerous diseases known to humanity. More, having never been +vaccinated, that disease was sure to strike her with its full force, and the +type of it which had appeared in the city was such that certainly not more than +one-half of the unprotected persons attacked came alive out of the struggle. +</p> + +<p> +This was bad enough, but there were other things behind. I had never been +vaccinated since infancy, over fifty years ago, and was therefore practically +unprotected with the enemy that all my lifetime I had dreaded, as I dreaded no +other thing or imagination, actually standing at my door. I could not go away +because of the election; I dared not show fear, because they would cry: +“Look at the hangman when he sees the rope.” Here, since compulsory +vaccination had been abandoned, we fought smallpox by a system of isolation so +rigorous that under its cruel provisions every one of whatever age, rank or sex +in whom the disease declared itself was instantly removed to a hospital, while +the inhabitants of the house whence the patient came were kept practically in +prison, not being allowed to mix with their fellows. We had returned to the +preventive measures of centuries ago, much as they were practised in the time +of the Great Plague. +</p> + +<p> +But how could I send my daughter to one of those dreadful pest-pits, there at +the moment of struggle to be a standing advertisement of the utter failure and +falsity of the system I had preached, backing my statements with the wager of +her life? Moreover, to do so would be to doom myself to defeat at the poll, +since under our byelaws, which were almost ferocious in their severity, I could +no longer appear in public to prosecute my canvass, and, if my personal +influence was withdrawn, then most certainly my adversary would win. +</p> + +<p> +Oh, truly I who had sown bounteously was reaping bounteously. Truly the birds +which I had sent out on their mission of evil had come home to roost upon my +roof-tree. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap13"></a>CHAPTER XIII<br/> +HARVEST</h2> + +<p> +Another five days went by—to me they were days of most unspeakable doubt +and anguish. Each morning at breakfast I waited for the coming of Jane with an +anxiety which was all the more dreadful because I forced myself to conceal it. +There had been no further conversation between us about the matter that haunted +both our minds, and so fearful was I lest she should divine my suspense that +except in the most casual way I did not even dare to look at her as she entered +the room. +</p> + +<p> +On the fifth morning she was late for breakfast, not a common thing, for as a +rule she rose early. I sent one of the parlour-maids to her room to ask if she +was coming down, and stood awaiting the answer with much the same feeling as a +criminal on his trial awaits the verdict of the jury. Presently the girl +returned with the message that Miss Therne would be down in a few minutes, +whereat I breathed again and swallowed a little food, which till then I had +been unable to touch. +</p> + +<p> +Soon she came, and I saw that she was rather pale and languid, owing to the +heat, perhaps, but that otherwise she looked much as usual. +</p> + +<p> +“You are late, dear,” I said unconcernedly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, father,” she answered; “I woke up with a little +headache and went to sleep again. It has gone now; I suppose that it is the +heat.” +</p> + +<p> +As she spoke she kissed me, and I thought—but this may have been +fancy—that her breath felt cold upon my cheek. +</p> + +<p> +“I daresay,” I said, and we sat down to table. By my plate lay a +great pile of correspondence, which I opened while making pretence to eat, but +all the time I was watching Jane over the top of those wearisome letters, most +of them from beggars or constituents who “wanted to know.” One, +however, was anonymous, from a person who signed herself “Mother.” +It ran:— +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,—After hearing your speeches some years ago, and being told +that you were such a clever man, I became a Conscientious Objector, and would +not let them vaccinate any more of my children. The three who were not +vaccinated have all been taken to the hospital with the smallpox, and they tell +me (for I am not allowed to see them) that one of them is dead; but the two who +were vaccinated are quite well. Sir, I thought that you would like to know +this, so that if you have made any mistake you may tell others. Sir, forgive me +for troubling you, but it is a terrible thing to have one’s child die of +smallpox, and, as I acted on your advice, I take the liberty of writing the +above.” +</p> + +<p> +Again I looked at Jane, and saw that although she was sipping her tea and had +some bacon upon her plate she had eaten nothing at all. Like the catch of a +song echoed through my brain that fearsome sentence: “It is a terrible +thing to have one’s child die of the smallpox.” Terrible, indeed, +for now I had little doubt but that Jane was infected, and if she should chance +to die, then what should I be? I should be her murderer! +</p> + +<p> +After breakfast I started upon my rounds of canvassing and speech-making. Oh, +what a dreadful day was that, and how I loathed the work. How I cursed the hour +in which I had taken up politics, and sold my honour to win a seat in +Parliament and a little cheap notoriety among my fellow-men. If Stephen Strong +had not tempted me Jane would have been vaccinated in due course, and +therefore, good friend though he had been to me, and though his wealth was mine +to-day, I cursed the memory of Stephen Strong. Everywhere I went that afternoon +I heard ominous whispers. People did not talk openly; they shrugged their +shoulders and nodded and hinted, and all their hints had to do with the +smallpox. +</p> + +<p> +“I say, Therne,” said an old friend, the chairman of my committee, +with a sudden outburst of candour, “what a dreadful thing it would be if +after all we A.V.’s were mistaken. You know there are a good many cases +of it about, for it’s no use disguising the truth. But I haven’t +heard of any yet among the Calf-worshippers” (that was our cant term for +those who believed in vaccination). +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, let be!” I answered angrily, “it is too late to talk of +mistakes, we’ve got to see this thing through.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, Therne,” he said with a dreary laugh, “unless it +should happen to see us through.” +</p> + +<p> +I left him, and went home just in time to dress. There were some people to +dinner, at which Jane appeared. Her lassitude had vanished, and, as was her +manner when in good spirits, she was very humorous and amusing. Also I had +never seen her look so beautiful, for her colour was high and her dark eyes +shone like the diamond stars in her hair. But again I observed that she ate +nothing, although she, who for the most part drank little but water, took +several glasses of champagne and two tumblers of soda. Before I could get rid +of my guests she had gone to bed. At length they went, and going to my study I +began to smoke and think. +</p> + +<p> +I was now sure that the bright flush upon her cheeks was due to what we doctors +call <i>pyrexia</i>, the initial fever of smallpox, and that the pest which I +had dreaded and fled from all my life was established in my home. The night was +hot and I had drunk my fill of wine, but I sat and shook in the ague of my +fear. Jane had the disease, but she was young and strong and might survive it. +I should take it from her, and in that event assuredly must die, for the mind +is master of the body and the thing we dread is the thing that kills us. +</p> + +<p> +Probably, indeed, I had taken it already, and this very moment the seeds of +sickness were at their wizard work within me. Well, even if it was so?—I +gasped when the thought struck me—as Merchison had recognised in the case +of Jane, by immediate vaccination the virus could be destroyed, or if not +destroyed at least so much modified and weakened as to become almost harmless. +Smallpox takes thirteen or fourteen days to develop; cowpox runs its course in +eight. So even supposing that I had been infected for two days there was still +time. Yes, but none to lose! +</p> + +<p> +Well, the thing was easy—I was a doctor and I had a supply of +glycerinated lymph; I had procured some fresh tubes of it only the other day, +to hold it up before my audiences while I dilated on its foulness and explained +the evils which resulted from its use. Supposing now that I made a few +scratches on my arm and rubbed some of this stuff into them, who would be the +wiser? The inflammation which would follow would not be sufficient to +incapacitate me, and nobody can see through a man’s coat sleeve; even if +the limb should become swollen or helpless I could pretend that I had strained +it. Whatever I had preached to prove my point and forward my ambition, in truth +I had never doubted the efficacy of vaccination, although I was well aware of +the dangers that might result from the use of impure or contaminated lymph, +foul surroundings, and occasionally, perhaps, certain conditions of health in +the subject himself. Therefore I had no prejudice to overcome, and certainly I +was not a Conscientious Objector. +</p> + +<p> +It came to this then. There were only two reasons why I should not immediately +vaccinate myself—first, that I might enjoy in secret a virtuous sense of +consistency, which, in the case of a person who had proved himself so +remarkably inconsistent in this very matter, would be a mere indulgence of +foolish pride; and secondly, because if I did I might be found out. This indeed +would be a catastrophe too terrible to think of, but it was not in fact a risk +that need be taken into account. +</p> + +<p> +But where was the use of weighing all these pros and cons? Such foolish doubts +and idle arguments melted into nothingness before the presence of the spectre +that stood upon my threshold, the hideous, spotted Pestilence who had slain my +father, who held my daughter by the throat, and who threatened to grip me with +his frightful fingers. What were inconsistencies and risks to me compared to my +living terror of the Thing that had dominated my whole existence, reappearing +at its every crisis, and by some strange fate even when it was far from me, +throwing its spell over my mind and fortunes till, because of it, I turned my +skill and knowledge to the propagation of a lie, so mischievous in its results +that had the world known me as I was it would have done wisely to deal by me as +it deals with a dangerous lunatic? +</p> + +<p> +I would do it and at once. +</p> + +<p> +First, although it was unnecessary as all the servants had gone to rest, I +locked that door of my study which opened into the hall. The other door I did +not think of locking, for beyond it was nothing but the private staircase which +led to the wing of the house occupied by Jane and myself. Then I took off my +coat and rolled up my shirt sleeve, fastening it with a safety-pin to the linen +upon my shoulder. After this I lit a spirit-lamp and sterilised my lancet by +heating it in the flame. Now, having provided myself with an ivory point and +unsealed the tiny tube of lymph, I sat down in a chair so that the light from +the electric lamp fell full upon my arm, and proceeded to scape the skin with +the lancet until blood appeared in four or five separate places. Next I took +the ivory point, and, after cleansing it, I charged it with the lymph and +applied it to the abrasions, being careful to give each of them a liberal dose. +The operation finished, I sat still awhile letting my arm hang over the back of +the chair, in order that the blood might dry thoroughly before I drew down my +shirt sleeve. +</p> + +<p> +It was while I was sitting thus that I heard some movement behind me, and +turned round suddenly to find myself face to face with my daughter Jane. She +was clothed only in her nightdress and a bedroom wrapper, and stood near to the +open staircase door, resting her hand upon the end of a lounge as though to +support herself. +</p> + +<p> +For one moment only I saw her and noted the look of horror in her eyes, the +next I had touched the switch of the electric light, and, save for the faint +blue glimmer of the spirit lamp, there was darkness. +</p> + +<p> +“Father,” she said, and in the gloom her voice sounded far away and +hollow, “what are you doing to your arm?” +</p> + +<p> +“I stumbled and fell against the corner of the mantelpiece and scratched +it,” I began wildly, but she stopped me. +</p> + +<p> +“O father, have pity, for I cannot bear to hear you speak what is not +true, and—<i>I saw it all</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +Then followed a silence made more dreadful by the darkness which the one +ghostly point of light seemed to accentuate. +</p> + +<p> +Presently my daughter spoke again. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you no word of comfort to me before I go? How is it that you who +have prevented thousands from doing this very thing yet do it yourself secretly +and at the dead of night? If you think it safer to vaccinate yourself, why was +I, your child, left unvaccinated, and taught that it is a wicked superstition? +Father, father, for God’s sake, answer me, or I shall go mad.” +</p> + +<p> +Then I spoke, as men will speak at the Judgment Day—if there is +one—and for the same reason, because I must. “Sit down, Jane, and +listen, and, if you do not mind, let it remain dark; I can tell you best in the +dark.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, briefly, but with clearness and keeping nothing back, I told her all, +I—her father—laying every pitiable weakness of my nature open to my +child’s sight; yes, even to the terror of infection that drove me to the +act. All this while Jane answered no word, but when at length I finished she +said:— +</p> + +<p> +“My poor father, O my poor father! Why did you not tell me all this years +ago, when you could have confessed your mistake? Well, it is done, and you were +not to blame in the beginning, for they forced you to it. And now I have come +to tell you that I am very ill—that is why I am here—my back aches +dreadfully, and I fear that I must have caught this horrible smallpox. Oh! had +I known the truth a fortnight ago, I should have let Ernest vaccinate me. It +broke my heart to refuse him the first thing he ever asked of me. But I thought +of what you would feel and what a disgrace it would be to you. And +now—you see. +</p> + +<p> +“Turn up the light, for I must go back. I daresay that we shall never +meet again, for remember you are not to come into my room. I will not allow you +to come into my room, if I have to kill myself to prevent it. No, you must not +kiss me either; I daresay that I have begun to be infectious. Good-bye, father, +till we meet again somewhere else, for I am sure that we do not altogether die. +Oh! now that I know everything, I should have been glad enough to leave this +life—if only I had never—met Ernest,” and turning, Jane, my +daughter, crept away, gliding up the broad oak stairs back to the room which +she was never to quit alive. +</p> + +<p> +As for me, daylight found me still seated in the study, my brain tormented with +an agony of remorse and shame which few have lived to feel, and my heart frozen +with fear of what the morrow should bring forth. +</p> + +<p> +After but one day of doubt, Jane’s sickness proved to be smallpox of the +prevailing virulent type. But she was not removed to the hospital, for I kept +the thing secret and hired a nurse, who had recently been revaccinated, for her +from a London institution. The doctoring I directed myself, although I did not +actually see her, not now from any fear of consequences, for I was so utterly +miserable that I should have been glad to die even of smallpox, but because she +would not suffer it, and because also, had I done so, I might have carried +infection far and wide, and should have been liable to prosecution under our +isolation laws. +</p> + +<p> +I wished to give up the fight for the seat, but when I suggested it, saying +that I was ill, my committee turned upon me fiercely. +</p> + +<p> +“Smallpox,” they declared, “was breaking out all over the +city, and I should stop there to ‘sweep out my own grate,’ even if +they had to keep me by force. If I did not, they would expose me in a fashion I +should not like.” +</p> + +<p> +Then I gave in, feeling that after all it did not matter much, as in any case +it was impossible for me to leave Dunchester. Personally I had no longer any +fear of contagion, for within a week from that fatal night four large vesicles +had formed on my arm, and their presence assured me that I was safe. At any +other time this knowledge would have rejoiced me more than I can tell, but now, +as I have said, I did not greatly care. +</p> + +<p> +Another six days went by, bringing me to the eve of the election. At lunch time +I managed to get home, and was rejoiced to find that Jane, who for the past +forty-eight hours had been hovering between life and death, had taken a decided +turn for the better. Indeed, she told me so herself in quite a strong voice as +I stood in the doorway of her room, adding that she hoped I should have a good +meeting that night. +</p> + +<p> +It would seem, however, that almost immediately after I left a change for the +worse set in, of such a character that Jane felt within herself her last hour +was at hand. Then it was that she ordered the nurse to write a telegram at her +dictation. It was to Dr. Merchison, and ran: “Come and see me at once, do +not delay as I am dying.—Jane.” +</p> + +<p> +Within half an hour he was at her door. Then she bade the nurse to throw a +sheet over her, so that he might not see her features which were horribly +disfigured, and to admit him. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen,” she said, speaking through the sheet, “I am dying +of the smallpox, and I have sent for you to beg your pardon. I know now that +you were right and I was wrong, although it broke my heart to learn it.” +</p> + +<p> +Then by slow degrees and in broken words she told him enough of what she had +learned to enable him to guess the rest, never dreaming, poor child, of the use +to which he would put his knowledge, being too ill indeed to consider the +possibilities of a future in which she could have no part. +</p> + +<p> +The rest of that scene has nothing to do with the world; it has nothing to do +with me; it is a private matter between two people who are dead, Ernest +Merchison and my daughter, Jane Therne. Although my own beliefs are nebulous, +and at times non-existent, this was not so in my daughter’s case. Nor was +it so in the case of Ernest Merchison, who was a Scotchman, with strong +religious views which, I understand, under these dreadful circumstances proved +comfortable to both of them. At the least, they spoke with confidence of a +future meeting, which, if their faith is well founded, was not long delayed +indeed; for, strong as he seemed to be, within the year Merchison followed his +lover to the churchyard, where they lie side by side. +</p> + +<p> +About half-past six Jane became unconscious, and an hour afterwards she died. +</p> + +<p> +Then in his agony and the bitterness of his just rage a dreadful purpose arose +in the mind of Merchison. He went home, changed his clothes, disinfected +himself, and afterwards came on to the Agricultural Hall, where I was +addressing a mass meeting of the electors. It was a vast and somewhat stormy +meeting, for men’s minds were terrified and overshadowed by the cases of +disease which were reported in ever-increasing numbers, and even the best of my +supporters had begun to speculate whether or no my anti-vaccination views were +after all so absolutely irrefutable. +</p> + +<p> +Still, my speech, which by design did not touch on the smallpox scare, was +received with respect, if not with enthusiasm. I ended it, however, with an +eloquent peroration, wherein I begged the people of Dunchester to stand fast by +those great principles of individual freedom, which for twenty years it had +been my pride and privilege to inculcate; and on the morrow, in spite of all +arguments that might be used to dissuade them, fearlessly to give their +suffrages to one who for two decades had proved himself to be their friend and +the protector of their rights. +</p> + +<p> +I sat down, and when the cheers, with which were mixed a few hoots, had +subsided, my chairman asked if any one in the meeting wished to question the +candidate. +</p> + +<p> +“I do,” said a voice speaking from beneath the shadow of the +gallery far away. “I wish to ask Dr. Therne whether he believes in +vaccination?” +</p> + +<p> +When the meeting understood the meaning of this jester’s question, a +titter of laughter swept over it like a ripple over the face of a pond. The +chairman, also rising with a smile, said: “Really, I do not think it +necessary to put that query to my friend here, seeing that for nearly twenty +years he has been recognised throughout England as one of the champions of the +anti-vaccination cause which he helped to lead to triumph.” +</p> + +<p> +“I repeat the question,” said the distant voice again, a cold deep +voice with a note in it that to my ears sounded like the knell of approaching +doom. +</p> + +<p> +The chairman looked puzzled, then replied: “If my friend will come up +here instead of hiding down there in the dark I have no doubt that Dr. Therne +will be able to satisfy his curiosity.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a little commotion beneath the gallery, and presently a man was seen +forcing his way up the length of the huge and crowded hall. For some reason or +other the audience watched his slow approach without impatience. A spirit of +wonder seemed to have taken possession of them; it was almost as though by some +process of telepathy the thought which animated the mind of this questioner had +taken a hold of their minds, although they did not quite know what that thought +might be. Moreover the sword of smallpox hung over the city, and therefore the +subject was of supreme interest. When Death is near, whatever they may pretend, +men think of little else. +</p> + +<p> +Now he was at the foot of the platform, and now in the gaunt, powerful frame I +recognised my daughter’s suitor, Ernest Merchison, and knew that +something dreadful was at hand, what I could not guess. +</p> + +<p> +There was still time—I might have pretended to be ill, but my brain was +so weary with work and sorrow, and so occupied, what was left of it, in trying +to fathom Merchison’s meaning, that I let the precious moment slip. At +length he was standing close by me, and to me his face was like the face of an +avenging angel, and his eyes shone like that angel’s sword. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish to ask you, sir,” he said again, “whether or no you +believe that vaccination is a prophylactic against smallpox.” +</p> + +<p> +Once more there were opportunities of escape. I might for instance have asked +for a definition of vaccination, of prophylactics and of smallpox, and thus +have argued till the audience grew weary. But some God of vengeance fought upon +his side, the hand of doom was over me, and a power I could not resist dragged +the answer from my lips. +</p> + +<p> +“I think, sir,” I replied, “that, as the chairman has told +you, the whole of my public record is an answer to your question. I have often +expressed my views upon this matter; I see no reason to change them.” +</p> + +<p> +Ernest Merchison turned to the audience. +</p> + +<p> +“Men of Dunchester,” he said in such trumpet-like and thrilling +tones that every face of the multitude gathered there was turned upon him, +“Dr. Therne in answer to my questions refers to his well-known views, and +says that he has found no reason to change them. His views are that vaccination +is useless and even mischievous, and by preaching them he has prevented +thousands from being vaccinated. Now I ask him to illustrate his faith by +baring his left arm before you all.” +</p> + +<p> +What followed? I know not. From the audience went up a great gasp mingled with +cries of “<i>yes</i>” and “<i>shame</i>” and +“<i>show him</i>.” My supporters on the platform murmured in +indignation, and I, round whom the whole earth seemed to rush, by an effort +recovering my self-control, rose and said:— +</p> + +<p> +“I am here to answer any question, but I ask you to protect me from +insult.” +</p> + +<p> +Again the tumult and confusion swelled, but through it all, calm as death, +inexorable as fate, Ernest Merchison stood at my side. When it had died down, +he said:— +</p> + +<p> +“I repeat my challenge. There is smallpox in this city—people are +lying dead of it—and many have protected themselves by vaccination: let +Dr. Therne prove that he has not done this also by baring his left arm before +you all.” +</p> + +<p> +The chairman looked at my face and his jaw dropped. “I declare this +meeting closed,” he said, and I turned to hurry from the platform, +whereat there went up a shout of “<i>No, no</i>.” It sank to a +sudden silence, and again the man with the face of fate spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“Murderer of your own child, I reveal that which you hide!” +</p> + +<p> +Then with his right hand suddenly he caught me by the throat, with his left +hand he gripped my linen and my garments, and at one wrench ripped them from my +body, leaving my left breast and shoulder naked. And there, patent on the arm +where every eye might read them, were those proofs of my infamy which he had +sought. +</p> + +<p> +I swooned away, and, as I sank into oblivion, there leapt from the lips of the +thousands I had betrayed that awful roar of scorn and fury which has hunted me +from my home and still haunts me far across the seas. +</p> + +<p> +My story is done. There is nothing more to tell. +</p> + +<p class="center"> +THE END +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block;margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DOCTOR THERNE ***</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This file should be named 5764-h.htm or 5764-h.zip</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in https://www.gutenberg.org/5/7/6/5764/</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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