There were three things I should say the Doctor did not like. One of
these was the newspaper reporter who tried to get "inside" information
when some especially prominent person happened to be a patient of his.
This was not just a simple, single-sided dislike which the Doctor felt,
either. The idea of any physician inviting press publicity was bad
enough, but the idea of any physician telling the public about the
private affairs of a patient was--well--. I happened one day to be with
the Doctor when a reporter approached on such an errand, so I know quite
well how the Doctor felt on this subject, and I am inclined to believe
the reporter must also have carried away some impression of it.
The other two things the Doctor seemed to dislike were writing medical
papers and speaking in public; anything, in short, which might by any
chance give an impression of putting himself forward, was distasteful to
him. As for display of any sort, any external polishing, for the purpose
of appearing prosperous and thus inviting prosperity, would have been to
Dr. Janeway utterly impossible.
As far as personal success and advancement went, I am convinced his mind
was never concerned beyond that measure of reward which might openly be
balanced against actual attainment and actual ability. What a sorrowful
satisfaction that would be for many of us!
X
Now that these few ingredients of Dr. Janeway's greatness, which have
come out of memory to mind, have found their way to paper, it is hoped
they may not wholly miss their mark. Incomplete though the picture is,
it should carry some clue to the character of the man who made the
profession of medicine a finer and a better profession for his having
been in it. To bring into any walk of life so much talent and truth, so
much candour and courage, and withal, such simplicity and sincerity, is
to leave it raised to a higher level for all time.
Such lives need no tribute to their memory. On the contrary, they levy
an unforgettable tax on all who would live on by lower standards.
To those whose minds can grasp the general disorder in which we try to
live--the moral indirection of our everyday endeavour to get somewhere,
this day toward a gilded goal, tomorrow toward the promise of fame, the
day after seeking applause for our benevolence, or one after one thing,
another after another thing, and hardly any one after anything that
counts--it is to these that this man's unaffected, unselfish, upbuilding
life must come as a strong and refreshing draught of reality.
A life worth knowing about for those with ideals; a life to study for
those who are sincere; a life with a lesson for every student of
medicine.