IN THE INTEREST OF SCIENCE F his antecedents, save that he came from a small town in the Western part of the state, little or nothing was known. Of his present even less, except that he lived in a comfortable house, filled with books, with an old colored housekeeper whose husband was his chauffeur. In appearance he was tall and thin, pleasant to look upon, kind and agreeable. Perhaps the most striking feature was his eyes. They were deepset and blue; and always there was in them that sad, melancholy look one usually associates with the eyes of a poet or dreamer. He would greet you with a smile, extend a long, narrow, tapering hand, make a few pleasant remarks and pass on his way. And thus he always held you at arm's length. To but one class of humans was he known to unbend; and that was children. It was amongst them that he appeared to be the happiest. And for all we ever knew he wasn't married. At least, none of us ever ventured to ask him, and he never volunteered to enlighten us. But if we failed to pierce his inner shell as a man, we were sufficiently compensated by a thorough knowledge of him professionally. For a more thorough or keener observer, or better technician, than he, as an obstetrician, never lived. To have him in the lying-in room as a consultant in a difficult case was, in itself, a relief. But to see him work-to see that narrow hand with those long, tapering fingers dexterously change a faulty position or presentation to a more suitable one-was indeed a privilege. In this respect there was something about him that was uncanny, almost bordering on the occult; for in the more than fifteen years that Dr. Thomas Sharswood had been amongst us, he was never known to have lost a mother. A record he never boasted of, had never even spoken of, but one we always marveled at. Then came that never-to-be forgotten meeting of our County Society. The essayist of the evening was the Professor of Obstetrics in our State University. His subject: "The Modern Indications for Cesarean Section." our guest at a near-by hostelry. The talk at first was small and of little importance, during which time Dr. Sharswood did not say a word, but kept gazing at our guest. He seemed uneasy; a strange air of reticence seemed to envelop him. The missing smile, the furrowed brow, the changed look in those eyes, all betokened something impending, nor had we long to wait. "Your views are rather fixed on the indications for Cesarean Section, are they not, Dr. Sharswood?" asked the Professor, in that peculiar, high-pitched voice of his. "Yes, they are fixed," replied Dr. Sharswood hesitatingly. "And would you mind telling us why, Doctor? I hear that you but seldom perform this operation." Dr. Sharswood seemed to hesitate for a moment, and one could almost see that within him something was struggling for expression. But he kept looking straight across the table at the Professor. As he began to speak his voice was low and clear, later to become tinged with a note of sadness that changed from time to time with the look in his eyes. "You wish to know why I don't agree with you, sir?" he began. "I'll tell you. About twenty years ago there came to a small town in the western part of the state two people, a man and his wife. They had but recently married. Both were young, poor and happy. Yes, happy; no happier marriage was ever consummated. In the course of time, the young wife became pregnant; and as she neared the stage of motherhood, she began to bleed. A diagnosis of placenta praevia was made. As her husband was a doctor, it was agreed that she be removed to a hospital in the city, fifty miles away. Her husband, the doctor, took her there himself, and arranged with the chief of staff that, since the bleeding was not profuse, nothing more radical than 'version' be done. It was about this time you see that the field for your Cesarean Section was being widened. "Many months afterwards, when it was all over, the husband happened to meet one of the internes of the hospital, who told him the exact details of what took place that night. The woman began to get pains, along with which there was some bleeding. Then after waiting a while, the temptation to be among the very first in the city to operate for this condition became too great to resist, since, even then, the operation was considered, as you now say, 'simplicity itself.' And so, in spite of In the discussion that followed, Dr. Sharswood did not entirely agree with the Professor's conclusions. It was with considerable difficulty that he was persuaded to join the officers of the Society in entertaining his promise not to, this chief of staff performed a Cesarean Section on this little woman, who was there alone, whose husband, the doctor, was miles away. And when he arrived, she, who was more to him than life itself, had passed away. And with her went the baby." As he finished he drew a handkerchief and mopped the perspiration from his face. A tense silence ensued, which was finally broken by our guest. "A very sad case, ah-Doctor, a very sad case, indeed. I-ah-am not convinced, however, that these newer indications should give way because of a fatal issue in a single instance." One could see that our guest, the Professor, was plainly disappointed and even nettled. "We have a much better technique now," he continued. "We now select our cases for Cesarean Section, and while, no doubt, in your particular case, the surgeon was- -ah-a little over-enthusiastic, it was all done in the interest of science." 99 "In the interest of science," shouted Dr. Sharswood. "Why, man- Suddenly he stopped. Holding on to the table in front of him with one hand, and to the back of his chair with the other, he slowly arose, straightening himself out to his full height. In that moment of tense silence his gaze swept over those sitting there and then swooped down, as it were, on the Professor. From his eyes there was reflected a glint of cold steel as he looked straight at him, and as he began speaking his voice was suppressed and husky. "Why I-I thought they used animals for that purpose, Doctor, but now that you mention it, I'm happy, happy sir, that my wife did not die in vain; and that you, sir, are now more careful and select your cases." SAMUEL AXILBUND, M. D. Philadelphia, Pa. OBITER DICTA The Basis of Immortality. The Last Word From a "Reichenbach's 'Odic effluvia' is a magnetic or vital fluid emanating from the body every second, and which can be seen by hypnotic subjects in the dark, appearing bluish on the right side and yellowish red on the left, and varying in intensity with the state of the emotions in the person from whom they emanate. The vital force is responsible for table turning. It is indestructible and capable of being infused into inanimate objects. This explains the practice of the old witch, who would make a figure of wax and then animate it with a wisp of hair "We should have readily accepted the passing away of the other sister, Cecily, frail in health and rather useless." N. Y. Times Review of "The Ground Swell," by Mary Hallock Foote. Literature having nothing to do with life; death coming only to those who are rather useless, no longer wanted, or disliked; and grip, as we all know, being a necessary, prearranged, and longexpected malady in most cases. If we Medical Men were only as wise as some Statesmen, we could wipe out an Epidemic of Fever by smash from the victim. When the witch stuck pins in the figure, ing all the Thermometers or putting them in the Cooler. the person whom it represented would feel pain in the corresponding part of the body. This vital fluid, so independent of the body, so impossible to destroy, even by fire, may well be the spiritual principle which does not perish with us and points to immortal life."-Maeterlinck "The Unknown Shore." My friend, the Cynic, says some people he knows would find their ultimate expression of the sumptuous life in being able to say they got their clothes-pins at Tiffany's. After reading "The Erotic Motive in Literature," 1 fully understand the hidden meaning of Browning, Shelley, Keats and the Shakespeare sonnets. Each of these poets lost, or did not lose, his mother in early life. Hence, there was, or was not, an intense, "unconscious," with repressed desire and sublimated libido, leading these poets to attach themselves violently to some other female, or to avoid them all. Hence, they were very fond of the woman complex, or disliked it intensely. In the same way we can explain Poe, Lafcadio Hearn or Verlaine. If they loved their fathers or their mothers, or hated either or both, or neither their "subconscious" produced the same net result. It is so easy. * * * The All-Wrongness of a Masterpiece. "Though Maxim Gorky's 'Night Lodging' is discursive in its form and slumpy in its situations, with unity carried to an extent that is almost tedious, it sticks in the memory. The flagrant assaults of a writer like Gorky on the world's accepted notions of things have frequently done some harm, but once in a while they may do some good. For instance, there is a character in 'Night Lodging' who saunters benevolently through the play, giving the reckless derelicts excellent advice. In most plays this sort of character has triumphs; he saves practically everybody. In the Gorky play he has the dipsomaniac actor resolved to go to a place where they cure one of drunkenness. The old man has pleaded well and tactfully, but when the drunkard, fired with hope and determination, asks where this place is, the benign one cannot remember the name of the city. In A Happy Ending as the Only True Touch. Pathetic, too, is the vision of the mother, the mating of Tony, her ideal son with this high-spirited nymph, who flits off to do war duty in France and there, quite suddenly and, as we learn with a shock, dies of grip just as Tony, encouraged by her letters, has spent his fortune in preparing for her a beautiful home. "Is not this a false touch, considered strictly from the standpoint of Art? Nothing has led up to Katherine's death; it is unexpected and unnecessary. the end he benefits nobody. That is all wrong, of course, but a change of vibration occasionally in the theatre may have certain tonic effects."-N. Y. Herald, Dramatic Review. What we need is clean, wholesome, cheerful plays, showing life as it is as a rule, with people contented, prosperous, good and kind. Those are truest which show us the interiors of happy homes, preferably small ones, in a sweet little village, or, if it must be, on Riverside Drive. There is no harm in changing to a Country Club or a Summer Hotel or Cottage. I hate sordid plays. I 'mean those which deal with sick or dirty people, or tramps, or those who have been in jail or are on their way. A big and vital crime which thrills, like a theft of an inheritance or a railroad, or a big forgery, may be allowed, but it ought to be staged in pleasant surroundings, like a Bank President's office, and not in a slum. And above all, I want to go home happy; contented with myself, my own, and the good people in the play who are so like us. Some People cannot do a big thing without Patting Providence on the Back, and giving God a Certificate of Good Character for Kind Assistance. It is not a far Step down to the Pugilist who gives a Puff to some Proprietary to explain his winning of a Championship. Freudian Analysis gives us the idea that Speech Defects, so common among the Jews, might be explained by repressions and the unconscious inheritance, through ages of Ghetto life and persecution, of fear to speak out freely, clearly, and boldly. Hence the mumbling, the sing-song, the lisp, the stutter, as an escape and as a memory of speech that was cowed and broken in upon, through the ages, by curses and blows. In Reddest Russia. Soviets may not be as bad as was thought. When Tom tried to knock Dick down, and was, himself, knocked down instead, he was quite willing to shake hands and admit that Dick was not a half bad sort of fellow, after all. Strategic Retreat. The Soviets were doomed to military defeat, whatever their economic qualities. A little later, they were winning merely by brute force, then by promises, then by diplomacy, then by general love of peace, then by economic pressure, then, strange turn, by fear and hatred of the reactionaries the Allies had paid and backed; finally, by the offer of a large cash market. Morals and Markets. As long as the protest was grounded on humanity, love of liberty, and a decent respect for the opinions of (Russian) mankind, the starvation blockade and the purchase of civil war was kept up, and we had our mouths stopped by threats and accusations of treason. But when solid business men found that it did not pay, and that we might lose a good chance to trade Definition. Old English "free speech." Modern equivalent— "Amnesty for dangerous Agitators." My friend, the Cynic, says Man is an Animal who propounds, to himself, Riddles which he solemnly declares to be insoluble. Creation, the Universe, Nature, last, but not least, Woman, are endowed by him with a Soul created in his own Image to be gazed at with Awe, Admiration, and unceasing Wonder. The skeptic and scientist sees in them, one and all, subjects for Study; the Poet, sources of Inspiration; the Mystic, springs of unreasoning Faith and Belief. Hermione, M. D., wants to know about this ortho The unspeakable Bolsheviki have throttled free speech, deprived the workman of his most precious priv- dox Kosher food, and whether it has anything to do with ilege, the right to strike, and, most brutal of all, enforced apparent unanimity by gagging and intimidating minorities. Now, in My Country Resuming Relations. After Denikin, Kolchak, Yudenitch and Company have been driven into flight and Russia appears to be standing on its own legs in an economic as well as a military sense, we make the important discovery that the the Purim-free diet we hear so much about, What Force cannot bring to pass, what Fear, Persuasion, Ridicule, the Power of Church and State, Love and Greed, cannot enforce, that you will see done in a twinkling by a Thing called The Fashion. The Bed-Bug that infests a Palatial Couch must have great Contempt for the Poet who sleeps in a Hovel. P. H. F. |