CHAPTER XXIX.
BEWARE OF BIOLOGY, THE SCIENCE OF THE LIFE OF MAN.[6]
(The old man relates a story as an object lesson.)
[6] The reader is invited to skip this chapter of horrors.--J. U. L.
"But you have not lived up to the promise; you have evaded part of thebargain," I continued. "While you have certainly performed some curiousexperiments in physics which seem to be unique, yet, I am only anamateur in science, and your hydrostatic illustrations may berepetitions of investigations already recorded, that have escaped theattention of the scientific gentlemen to whom I have hitherto applied."
"Man's mind is a creature of doubts and questions," he observed. "Answerone query, and others rise. His inner self is never satisfied, and youare not to blame for wishing for a sign, as all self-consciousconditions of your former existence compel. Now that I have brushedaside the more prominent questionings, you insist upon those omitted,and appeal to me to--" he hesitated.
"To what?" I asked, curious to see if he had intuitively grasped myunspoken sentence.
"To exhibit to you your own brain," he replied.
"That is it exactly," I said; "you promised it, and you shall be heldstrictly to your bargain. You agreed to show me my own brain, and itseems evident that you have purposely evaded the promise."
"That I have made the promise and deferred its completion can not bedenied, but not by reason of an inability to fulfill the contract. Iwill admit that I purposely deferred the exhibition, hoping on your ownaccount that you would forget the hasty promise. You would betterrelease me from the promise; you do not know what you ask."
"I believe that I ask more than you can perform," I answered, "and thatyou know it."
"Let me give you a history," he said, "and then perhaps you willrelent. Listen. A man once became involved in the study of anatomy. Itled him to destruction. He commenced the study in order to learn aprofession; he hoped to become a physician. Materia medica, pharmacy,chemistry, enticed him at first, but after a time presented no charms.He was a dull student in much that men usually consider essential to thepractice of medicine. He was not fitted to be a physician. Gradually hebecame absorbed in two branches, physiology and anatomy. Within hismental self a latent something developed that neither himself nor hisfriends had suspected. This was an increasing desire for knowledgeconcerning the human body. The insatiable craving for anatomy grew uponhim, and as it did so other sections of medicine were neglected.Gradually he lost sight of his professional object; he droppedchemistry, materia medica, pharmacy, and at last, morbidly lived only inthe aforenamed two branches.
"His first visit to the dissecting room was disagreeable. The odor ofputrid flesh, the sight of the mutilated bodies repulsed him. When firsthis hand, warm in life, touched the clammy flesh of a corpse, heshuddered. Then when his fingers came in contact with the viscera of acadaver, that of a little child, he cried out in horror. Thedemonstrator of anatomy urged him on; he finally was induced to dissectpart of the infant. The reflex action on his sensitive mind firststunned, and then warped his senses. His companions had to lead him fromthe room. 'Wash it off, wash it off,' he repeated, trying to throw hishand from his person. 'Horrid, horrible, unclean. The child is yetbefore me,' he insisted. Then he went into a fever and raved. 'Somemother will meet me on the street and curse me,' he cried. 'That hand isred with the blood of my darling; it has desecrated the innocent dead,and mutilated that which is most precious to a mother. Take the handaway, wash it,' he shouted. 'The mother curses me; she demandsretribution. Better that a man be dead than cursed by a mother whosechild has been desecrated.' So the unfortunate being raved, dreaming allmanner of horrid imaginings. But at last he recovered, a different man.He returned voluntarily to the dissecting-room, and wrapped himself inthe uncouth work. Nothing in connection with corpse-mutilation was nowoffensive or unclean. He threw aside his other studies, he became aslave possessed of one idea. He scarcely took time to dine respectably;indeed, he often ate his lunch in the dissecting-room. The blood of achild was again and again on his fingers; it mattered not, he did nottake the trouble to wash it off. 'The liver of man is not more sacredthan the liver of a hog,' he argued; 'the flesh of a man is the same asother forms of animal food. When a person dies the vital heat escapes,consciousness is dissipated, and the cold, rigid remains are onlyanimal. Consciousness and life are all that is of man--one is force, theother matter; when man dies both perish and are dissipated.' His friendsperceived his fondness for dissection, and argued with him again,endeavoring now to overcome his infatuation; he repelled them. 'Ilearned in my vision,' he said, referring to his fever, 'that Pope wasright in saying that the "proper study of mankind is man"; I carenothing for your priestly superstitions concerning the dead. Thesefables are the invention of designing churchmen who live on thesuperstitions of the ignorant. I am an infidel, and believe in no spiritintangible; that which can be seen, felt, and weighed is, all else isnot. Life is simply a sensation. All beyond is chimerical, less thanfantastic, believed in only by dupes and weak-minded, credulous tools ofknaves, or creatures of blind superstition.' He carried the finelyarticulated, bleached skull of a cadaver to his room, and placed itbeside a marble statue that was a valued heirloom, the model of Venus ofMilo. 'Both are lime compounds,' he cynically observed, 'neither isbetter than the other.' His friends protested. 'Your superstitiouseducation is at fault,' he answered; 'you mentally clothe one of theseobjects in a quality it does not deserve, and the thought creates apleasant emotion. The other, equally as pure, reminds you of the gravethat you fear, and you shudder. These mental pulsations are artificial,both being either survivals of superstition, or creations of your ownmind. The lime in the skull is now as inanimate as that of the statue;neither object is responsible for its form, neither is unclean. To me,the delicate configuration, the exact articulation, the perfectadaptation for the office it originally filled, makes each bone of thisskull a thing of beauty, an object of admiration. As a whole, it givesme pleasure to think of this wonderful, exquisitely arranged piece ofmechanism. The statue you admire is in every respect outrivaled by theskull, and I have placed the two together because it pleases me todemonstrate that man's most artistic creation is far inferior tomaterial man. Throw aside your sentimental prejudices, and join with mein the admiration of this thing of beauty;' and he toyed with the skullas if it were a work of art. So he argued, and arguing passed from boneto bone, and from organ to organ. He filled his room with abnormalfragments of the human body, and surrounded himself with jars ofpreserved anatomical specimens. His friends fled in disgust, and hesmiled, glad to be alone with his ghastly subjects. He was infatuated inone of the alcoves of science."
The old man paused.
"Shall I proceed?" he asked.
"Yes," I said, but involuntarily moved my chair back, for I began againto be afraid of the speaker.
"At last this scientific man had mastered all that was known concerningphysiology and anatomy. He learned by heart the wording of great volumesdevoted to these subjects. The human frame became to him as an openbook. He knew the articulation of every muscle, could name a bone from amere fragment. The microscope ceased to be an object of interest, thesecrets of pathology and physiology had been mastered. Then,unconsciously, he was infected by another tendency; a new thought wasdestined to dominate his brain. 'What is it that animates this frame?What lies inside to give it life?' He became enthused again: 'The deadbody, to which I have given my time, is not the conscious part of man,'he said to himself; 'I must find this thing of life within; I have beenonly a butcher of the dead. My knowledge is superficial.'"
Again the old man hesitated and looked at me inquiringly.
"Shall I proceed?" he repeated.
I was possessed by horror, but yet fascinated, and answereddeterminedly: "Go on."
"Beware," he added, "beware of the Science of Life."
Pleadingly he looked at me.
"Go on," I commanded.
He continued:
"With
the cunning of a madman, this person of profound learning, ledfrom the innocence of ignorance to the heartlessness of advancedbiological science, secretly planned to seek the vital forces. 'I mustbegin with a child, for the life essence shows its first manifestationsin children,' he reasoned. He moved to an unfrequented locality,discharged his servants, and notified his former friends that visitorswere unwelcome. He had determined that no interruption to his workshould occur. This course was unnecessary, however, for now he hadneither friends nor visitors. He employed carpenters and artisans, andperfected a series of mechanical tables, beautiful examples of automaticmechanism. From the inner room of that house no cry could be heard bypersons outside....
[It will be seen, by referring to the epilogue, that Mr. Drury agreed to mutilate part of the book. This I have gladly done, excising the heart-rending passages that follow. To use the words of Prof. Venable, they do not "comport with the general delicacy of the book."--J. U. L.]
"Hold, old man, cease," I cried aghast; "I have had enough of this. Youtrifle with me, demon; I have not asked for nightmare stories,heart-curdling accounts of maniacal investigators, who madly pursuetheir revolting calling, and discredit the name of science."
"You asked to see your own brain," he replied.
"And have been given a terrible story instead," I retorted.
"So men perverted, misconstruing the aim of science, answer the cry ofhumanity," he said. "One by one the cherished treasures of Christianityhave been stolen from the faithful. What, to the mother, can replace thebabe that has been lost?"
"The next world," I answered, "offers a comfort."
"Bah," he said; "does not another searcher in that same science fieldtell the mother that there is no personal hereafter, that she will neversee her babe again? One man of science steals the body, another man ofscience takes away the soul, the third annihilates heaven; they go likepestilence and famine, hand in hand, subsisting on all that cravinghumanity considers sacred, and offering no tangible return beyond amaterialistic present. This same science that seems to be doing so muchfor humanity will continue to elevate so-called material civilizationuntil, as the yeast ferment is smothered in its own excretion, so willscience-thought create conditions to blot itself from existence, anddestroy the civilization it creates. Science is heartless,notwithstanding the personal purity of the majority of her helplessvotaries. She is a thief, not of ordinary riches, but of treasures thatcan not be replaced. Before science provings the love of a motherperishes, the hope of immortality is annihilated. Beware of materialism,the end of the science of man. Beware of the beginning of biologicalinquiry, for he who commences, can not foresee the termination. I say toyou in candor, no man ever engaged in the part of science lore thatquestions the life essence, realizing the possible end of hisinvestigations. The insidious servant becomes a tyrannical master; thehousebreaker is innocent, the horse thief guiltless in comparison.Science thought begins in the brain of man; science provings end allthings with the end of the material brain of man. Beware of your ownbrain."
"RISING ABRUPTLY, HE GRASPED MY HAND."]
"I have no fear," I replied, "that I will ever be led to disturb thecreeds of the faithful, and I will not be diverted. I demand to see mybrain."
"Your demand shall now be fulfilled; you have been warned of the returnthat may follow the commencement of this study; you force the issue; myresponsibility ceases. No man of science realized the end when he beganto investigate his throbbing brain, and the end of the fabric thatscience is weaving for man rests in the hidden future. The story I haverelated is a true one, as thousands of faithful men who unconsciouslyhave been led into infidelity have experienced; and as the faithfulfollowers of sacred teachings can also perceive, who recognize thattheir religion and the hope of heaven is slipping away beneath thesteady inroad of the heartless materialistic investigator, who clotheshimself in the garb of science."
Rising abruptly from his chair, he grasped my hand. "You shall see yourbrain, man; come."