TEA was Brandon’s favorite beverage. And this afternoon it seemed to
work a wonder upon him. It caused his veins to thrill and burn with an
exhilaration he had never expected to feel again.
“I learn from our amazing friend,” said Dr. Thorp, pointing a finger at
the tray, “that one of the most powerful deities of the astral world is
in that teapot.”
“He seems,” said Brandon, “to have taken all imagination for his
province.”
“He lives upon the theory, nothing is but thinking makes it so. He says
if one can only grasp it truly, it covers all the phenomena in the
universe.”
“In other words,” said Brandon with a smile, “you are not ashamed to
sit at the feet of the prophet who has come into your midst.”
“I confess it. I confess it frankly and fully.” And the doctor laughed.
Brandon felt a thrill of delight. He was like a chemist who learns from
a flame in his test tube that he has not deceived himself, and that his
great discovery has received the sanction of science.
“Yes, his theories are wonderful,” said the doctor, perhaps in answer
to the eager look on Brandon’s face. “Moreover, he has an extraordinary
faculty of putting them into practice. Many little changes in the life
here are due to him. They all make for greater harmony. Somehow, he
oils the wheels of our intercourse. And there is one innovation you
shall see for yourself if you care to do so.”
“There is nothing I should like so much.”
“It is one of his devices for keeping our best people amused and
interested. He says ideas are the life of the soul, and that creative
imagination is its highest function. And he has formed a sort of
debating society, which meets every afternoon to discuss the problems
of the present and the future.”
“Are your patients able to discuss them reasonably?”
“Not merely reasonably, I venture to say profoundly. We have some
intellectuals here, men who have read and thought perhaps too much,
whose brains have given out before their time. And then in all
institutions of this kind there are queer, freakish intellects, capable
of an intermittent brilliancy although unfit for the routine of
practical life, while some of the old men whom we take care of in their
declining years have been men of attainment in the heyday of their
powers. I tell you all this, because what you are about to see will
most probably astonish you. John Smith wields a marvelous regenerative
influence in this institution, and I want you to see it at work.”
“I shall be delighted to do so.”
“Very well. But let us first find out whether the portents are
favorable.” Thereupon with a smile Dr. Thorp rose and pressed the
button of an electric bell three times.
Presently the summons was answered by no less a person than the head
attendant, a tall, deliberate, very dour looking Scotsman.
“Boswell,” said Dr. Thorp, as it seemed to Brandon, with a twinkle in
his eye, “is the Court sitting this afternoon?”
“Yes, sir,” said the head attendant with perfect gravity. “The Master
took the chair at three o’clock.”
“What are they discussing?”
“Germany, sir.” The head attendant spoke with a slow solemnity which
nearly provoked Brandon to a laugh. “_Toujours l’Allemagne_,” said the
doctor. “Still the only question for the Court.”
“And likely to be for some little time yet, sir,” said Boswell
impressively. “What they are now trying to arrive at is, can Germany be
readmitted on any terms to the comity of nations?”
“But they were dealing with that question a month ago.”
“Well, sir, they are at it still. And I’m afraid they don’t get much
forwarder.”
“Any good speeches this afternoon?”
“Two of the best we’ve had yet, sir. They seem to get better and
better.”
At the note of enthusiasm in the voice of the head attendant, Dr. Thorp
directed a glance, half pride, half amusement at his visitor.
“We had Abraham on his legs again, sir. He gave us a regular rasper.”
“For your information,” said the doctor to Brandon dryly, “Abraham is
none other than Abraham Lincoln.”
“He didn’t half let Germany have it, sir.” The tone of the head
attendant was curiously grim.
“How did Goethe take it?” asked the doctor with a chuckle.
“Like a lamb, sir. He just sat in the corner crying like a child.”
Dr. Thorp rose and took a pipe from the chimneypiece.
“The proceedings opened this afternoon, sir,” Boswell continued, “with
a speech from Tolstoi. And very nice, too, sir; perhaps a little sloppy
in places, but very good in its way. I should like you to have heard
it, sir.”
“I should like to have done so.” The doctor’s tone was half pride, half
amused indulgence.
“Universal brotherhood was his ticket, sir. Rights of man.
Nonresistance to evil and so on. Of course it doesn’t quite work out,
but it was a very creditable effort, very creditable indeed--especially
for an old man who can’t button his own collar.”
“Quite so,” said the doctor.
“And I think you’ll like to know, sir”--a note of pride entered the
head attendant’s voice--“that we also had a speech from the brother who
came here the other day from Broad Hill. It was his first attempt, and
to my mind one of the best yet.”
“That’s interesting,” said the doctor, smiling at Brandon. “What’s his
name, by the way?”
“The Master introduced him as Spinoza.”
“I hope he was well received.”
“He was, sir, and yet not altogether as you might say. Both Plato and
Aristotle seemed inclined to criticize him, and they were dead set
against his proposal that Germany should be more fully represented.
Spinoza seemed to think that she was entitled to more friends than
Goethe and himself and Beethoven.”
“I wonder, I wonder,” Brandon interposed in a soft, far-away voice.
“Spinoza thought that Luther, Kant and Leibnitz ought also to be
allowed to speak for her.”
“But those names are not on the register.”
“Several of the brethren pointed that out, sir, but the Master said if
the Court decided that Germany was entitled to call them, there would
be no difficulty in causing them to appear.”
“Then I hope the Court decided in Spinoza’s favor,” said Dr. Thorp. “It
will be interesting to see how the Master contrives to make good his
promise.”
“When I left them, sir, they were arguing the question. But it will not
surprise me if they decide against the proposal.”
“What reason have you for thinking so?” asked Brandon.
“It’s Plato’s opinion, sir,” said Boswell, very impressively, “that
Germany, having betrayed her religion, and having perverted her
science, neither Luther nor Leibnitz has any _locus standi_, and as far
as Kant is concerned he agrees with Aristotle that the Court has too
many philosophers already.”
“And he carries great weight, I presume?” said Brandon.
“If Plato’s against the proposal, sir,” said the head attendant still
very impressively, “they’ll rule it out, unless the Master himself
intervenes.”
“Yes, and rightly,” said Dr. Thorp. “Before his mental breakdown,
some years ago, he was a man of great parts, a professor of Greek at
Cambridge, a beautiful speaker. Now that John Smith has taken him
in hand we are delighted to think that his fine powers are being
reawakened. When he is in his best form it is well worth anyone’s while
to hear him. What is he like this afternoon, Boswell?”
“I’ve never heard him to better advantage, sir,” said the head
attendant, with a slow and proud solemnity. “He’s quite a treat,
especially to a man like myself, who all my life have made a hobby of
philosophy.”
“Then let us go and hear what he has to say.”