Dearly beloved, we are gathered here together in the face of this
company to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony,
which is commended by God to be honorable among men, and therefore is
not to be entered into inadvisedly or carelessly, or without due
surgical precautions, but reverently, cleanly, sterilely, soberly,
scientifically, and with the nearest practicable approach to
bacteriological purity. Into this laudable and non-infectious state
these two persons present come now to be joined and quarantined. If any
man can show just cause, either clinically or microscopically, why they
may not be safely sutured together, let him now come forward with his
charts, slides and cultures, or else hereafter forever hold his peace.
(_Several spectators shuffle their feet, and an old maid giggles, but no
one comes forward._)
THE CLERGYMAN
(_To_ THE BRIDE _and_ BRIDEGROOM): I require and charge both of you, as
ye will answer in the dreadful hour of autopsy, when the secrets of all
lives shall be disclosed, that if either of you know of any lesion,
infection, malaise, congenital defect, hereditary taint or other
impediment, why ye may not be lawfully joined together in eugenic
matrimony, ye do now confess it. For be ye well assured that if any
persons are joined together otherwise than in a state of absolute
chemical and bacteriological innocence, their marriage will be septic,
unhygienic, pathogenic and toxic, and eugenically null and void.
(THE BRIDEGROOM _hands over a long envelope, from which_ THE CLERGYMAN
_extracts a paper bearing a large red seal._)
THE CLERGYMAN
(_Reading_): We, and each of us, having subjected the bearer, John Doe,
to a rigid clinical and laboratory examination, in accordance with Form
B-3 of the United States Public Health Service, do hereby certify that,
to the best of our knowledge and belief, he is free from all disease,
taint, defect, deformity or hereditary blemish, saving as noted herein.
Temperature _per ora_, 98.6. Pulse, 76, strong. Respiration, 28.5.
Wassermann,--2. Hb., 114%. Phthalein, 1st. hr., 46%; 2nd hr., 21%. W. B.
C., 8,925. Free gastric HCl, 11.5%. No stasis. No lactic acid. Blood
pressure, 122/77. No albuminuria. No glycosuria. Lumbar puncture: clear
fluid, normal pressure.
Defects Noted. 1. Left heel jerk feeble. 2. Caries in five molars. 3.
Slight acne rosacea. 4. Slight inequality of curvature in meridians of
right cornea. 5. Nicotine stain on right forefinger, extending to middle
of second phalanx.
(_Signed_)
SIGISMUND KRAUS, M.D.
WM. T. ROBERTSON, M.D.
JAMES SIMPSON, M.D.
Subscribed and sworn to before me, a Notary Public for the Borough of
Manhattan, City of New York, State of New York.
_(Seal_) ABRAHAM LECHETITSKY.
So much for the reading of the minutes. (_To_ THE BRIDE): Now for yours,
my dear.
(THE BRIDE _hands up a similar envelope, from which_ THE CLERGYMAN
_extracts a similar document. But instead of reading it aloud, he
delicately runs his eye through it in silence._)
THE CLERGYMAN
(_The reading finished_) Very good. Very creditable. You must see some
good oculist about your astigmatism, my dear. Surely you want to avoid
glasses. Come to my study on your return and I'll give you the name of a
trustworthy man. And now let us proceed with the ceremony of marriage.
(_To_ THE BRIDEGROOM): John, wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded
wife, to live together in the holy state of eugenic matrimony? Wilt thou
love her, comfort her, protect her from all protozoa and bacteria, and
keep her in good health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee unto her
only, so long as ye both shall live? If so, hold out your tongue.
(THE BRIDEGROOM _holds out his tongue and_ THE CLERGYMAN _inspects it
critically._)
THE CLERGYMAN
(_Somewhat dubiously_) Fair. I have seen worse.... Do you smoke?
THE BRIDEGROOM
(_Obviously lying_) Not much.
THE CLERGYMAN
Well, _how_ much?
THE BRIDEGROOM
Say ten cigarettes a day.
THE CLERGYMAN
And the stain noted on your right posterior phalanx by the learned
medical examiners?
THE BRIDEGROOM
Well, say fifteen.
THE CLERGYMAN
(_Waggishly_) Or twenty to be safe. Better taper off to ten. At all
events, make twenty the limit. How about the booze?
THE BRIDEGROOM
(_Virtuously_) Never!
THE CLERGYMAN
What! Never?
THE BRIDEGROOM
Well, never again!
THE CLERGYMAN
So they _all_ say. The answer is almost part of the liturgy. But have a
care, my dear fellow! The true eugenist eschews the wine cup. In every
hundred children of a man who ingests one fluid ounce of alcohol a day,
six will be left-handed, twelve will be epileptics and nineteen will
suffer from adolescent albuminuria, with delusions of persecution....
Have you ever had anthrax?
THE BRIDEGROOM
Not yet.
THE CLERGYMAN
Eczema?
THE BRIDEGROOM
No.
THE CLERGYMAN
Pott's disease?
THE BRIDEGROOM
No.
THE CLERGYMAN
Cholelithiasis?
THE BRIDEGROOM
No.
THE CLERGYMAN
Do you have a feeling of distention after meals?
THE BRIDEGROOM
No.
THE CLERGYMAN
Have you a dry, hacking cough?
THE BRIDEGROOM
Not at present.
THE CLERGYMAN
Are you troubled with insomnia?
THE BRIDEGROOM
No.
THE CLERGYMAN
Dyspepsia?
THE BRIDEGROOM
No.
THE CLERGYMAN
Agoraphobia?
THE BRIDEGROOM
No.
THE CLERGYMAN
Do you bolt your food?
THE BRIDEGROOM
No.
THE CLERGYMAN
Have you lightning pains in the legs?
THE BRIDEGROOM
No.
THE CLERGYMAN
Are you a bleeder? Have you hæmophilia?
THE BRIDEGROOM
No.
THE CLERGYMAN
Erthrocythæmia? Nephroptosis? Fibrinous bronchitis? Salpingitis?
Pylephlebitis? Answer yes or no.
THE BRIDEGROOM
No. No. No. No. No.
THE CLERGYMAN
Have you ever been refused life insurance? If so, when, by what company
or companies, and why?
THE BRIDEGROOM
No.
THE CLERGYMAN
What is a staphylococcus?
THE BRIDEGROOM
No.
THE CLERGYMAN
(_Sternly_) What?
THE BRIDEGROOM
(_Nervously_) Yes.
THE CLERGYMAN
(_Coming to the rescue_) Wilt them have this woman et cetera? Answer yes
or no.
THE BRIDEGROOM
I will.
THE CLERGYMAN
(_Turning to_ THE BRIDE) Mary, wilt thou have this gentleman to be thy
wedded husband, to live together in the holy state of aseptic matrimony?
Wilt thou love him, serve him, protect him from all adulterated
victuals, and keep him hygienically clothed; and forsaking all others,
keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live? If so----
THE BRIDE
(_Instantly and loudly_) I will.
THE CLERGYMAN
Not so fast! First, there is the little ceremony of the clinical
thermometers. (_He takes up one of the thermometers._) Open your mouth,
my dear. (_He Inserts the thermometer._) Now hold it there while you
count one hundred and fifty. And you, too. (_To_ THE BRIDEGROOM.) I had
almost forgotten you. (THE BRIDEGROOM _opens his mouth and the other
thermometer is duly planted. While the two are counting_, THE CLERGYMAN
_attempts to turn back one of_ THE BRIDE'S _eyelids, apparently
searching for trachoma, but his rubber gloves impede the operation and
so he gives it up. It is now time to read the thermometers._ THE
BRIDEGROOM'S _is first removed._)
THE CLERGYMAN
(_Reading the scale_) Ninety-nine point nine. Considering everything,
not so bad. (_Then he removes and reads_ THE BRIDE'S.) Ninety-eight
point six. Exactly normal. Cool, collected, at ease. The classical
self-possession of the party of the second part. And now, my dear, may I
ask you to hold out your tongue? (THE BRIDE _does so._)
THE CLERGYMAN
Perfect.... There; that will do. Put it back.... And now for a few
questions--just a few. First, do you use opiates in any form?
THE BRIDE
No.
THE CLERGYMAN
Have you ever had goitre?
THE BRIDE
No.
THE CLERGYMAN
Yellow fever?
THE BRIDE
No.
THE CLERGYMAN
Hæmatomata?
THE BRIDE
No.
THE CLERGYMAN
Siriasis or tachycardia?
THE BRIDE
No.
THE CLERGYMAN
What did your maternal grandfather die of?
THE BRIDE
Of chronic interstitial nephritis.
THE CLERGYMAN
(_Interested_) Ah, our old friend Bright's! A typical case, I take, with
the usual polyuria, oedema of the glottis, flame-shaped retinal
hemorrhages and cardiac dilatation?
THE BRIDE
Exactly.
THE CLERGYMAN
And terminating, I suppose, with the classical uræmic
symptoms--dyspnoea, convulsions, uræmic amaurosis, coma and collapse?
THE BRIDE
Including Cheyne-Stokes breathing.
THE CLERGYMAN
Ah, most interesting! A protean and beautiful malady! But at the moment,
of course, we can't discuss it profitably. Perhaps later on.... Your
father, I assume, is alive?
THE BRIDE
(_Indicating him_) Yes.
THE CLERGYMAN
Well, then, let us proceed. Who giveth this woman to be married to this
man?
THE BRIDE'S FATHER
(_With a touch of stage fright._) I do.
THE CLERGYMAN
(_Reassuringly_) You are in good health?
THE BRIDE'S FATHER
Yes.
THE CLERGYMAN
No dizziness in the morning?
THE BRIDE'S FATHER
No.
THE CLERGYMAN
No black spots before the eyes?
THE BRIDE'S FATHER
No.
THE CLERGYMAN
No vague pains in the small of the back?
THE BRIDE'S FATHER
No.
THE CLERGYMAN
Gout?
THE BRIDE'S FATHER
No.
THE CLERGYMAN
Chilblains?
THE BRIDE'S FATHER
No.
THE CLERGYMAN
Sciatica?
THE BRIDE'S FATHER
No.
THE CLERGYMAN
Buzzing in the ears?
THE BRIDE'S FATHER
No.
THE CLERGYMAN
Myopia? Angina pectoris?
THE BRIDE'S FATHER
No.
THE CLERGYMAN
Malaria? Marasmus? Chlorosis? Tetanus? Quinsy? Housemaid's knee?
THE BRIDE'S FATHER
No.
THE CLERGYMAN
You had measles, I assume, in your infancy?
THE BRIDE'S FATHER
Yes.
THE CLERGYMAN
Chicken pox? Mumps? Scarlatina? Cholera morbus? Diphtheria?
THE BRIDE'S FATHER
Yes. Yes. No. Yes. No.
THE CLERGYMAN
You are, I assume, a multipara?
THE BRIDE'S FATHER
A what?
THE CLERGYMAN
That is to say, you have had more than one child?
THE BRIDE'S FATHER
No.
THE CLERGYMAN
(_Professionally_) How sad! You will miss her!
THE BRIDE'S FATHER
One job like this is en----
THE CLERGYMAN
(_Interrupting suavely_) But let us proceed. The ceremony must not be
lengthened unduly, however interesting. We now approach the benediction.
(_Dipping his gloved hands into the basin of bichloride, he joins the
right hands of_ THE BRIDE _and_ THE BRIDEGROOM.)
THE CLERGYMAN
(_To_ THE BRIDEGROOM) Repeat after me: "I, John, take thee, Mary, to be
my wedded and aseptic wife, to have and to hold from this day forward,
for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness,
convalescence, relapse and health, to love and to cherish, till death do
us part; and thereto I plight thee my troth."
(THE BRIDEGROOM _duly repeats the formula_, THE CLERGYMAN _now looses
their hands, and after another dip into the bichloride, joins them
together again_.)
THE CLERGYMAN
(_To_ THE BRIDE) Repeat after me: "I, Mary, take thee, John, to be my
aseptic and eugenic husband, to have and to hold from this day forward,
for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, to love, to cherish and
to nurse, till death do us part; and thereto I give thee my troth."
(THE BRIDE _duly promises._ THE BEST MAN _then hands over the ring,
which_ THE CLERGYMAN _drops into the bichloride. It turns green. He
fishes it up again, wipes it dry with a piece of aseptic cotton and
presents it to_ THE BRIDEGROOM, _who places it upon the third finger of_
THE BRIDE'S _left hand. Then_ THE CLERGYMAN _goes on with the ceremony,_
THE BRIDEGROOM _repeating after him._)
THE CLERGYMAN
Repeat after me: "With this sterile ring I thee wed, and with all my
worldly goods I thee endow."
(THE CLERGYMAN _then joins the hands of_ THE BRIDE _and_ BRIDEGROOM
_once more, and dipping his own right hand into the bichloride, solemnly
sprinkles the pair._)
THE CLERGYMAN
Those whom God hath joined together, let no pathogenic organism put
asunder. (_To the assembled company._) Forasmuch as John and Mary have
consented together in aseptic wedlock, and have witnessed the same by
the exchange of certificates, and have given and pledged their troth,
and have declared the same by giving and receiving an aseptic ring, I
pronounce that they are man and wife. In the name of Mendel, of Galton,
of Havelock Ellis and of David Starr Jordan. Amen.
(THE BRIDE _and_ BRIDEGROOM _now kiss, for the first and last time,
after which they gargle with two per cent carbolic and march out of the
room, followed by_ THE BRIDE'S FATHER _and the spectators._ THE BEST
MAN, _before departing after them, hands_ THE CLERGYMAN _a ten-dollar
gold-piece in a small phial of twenty per cent bichloride._ THE
CLERGYMAN, _after pocketing it, washes his hands with green soap._ THE
BRIDESMAIDS _proceed to clean up the room with the remaining bichloride.
This done, they and_ THE CLERGYMAN _go out. As soon as they are gone,
the operating table is pushed back into place by an orderly, a patient
is brought in, and a surgeon proceeds to cut off his leg._)
_X.--TALES OF THE MORAL AND PATHOLOGICAL_
_X.--Tales of the Moral and Pathological_
_I.--The Rewards of Science_
Once upon a time there was a surgeon who spent seven years perfecting an
extraordinarily delicate and laborious operation for the cure of a rare
and deadly disease. In the process he wore out $400 worth of knives and
saws and used up $6,000 worth of ether, splints, guinea pigs, homeless
dogs and bichloride of mercury. His board and lodging during the seven
years came to $2,875. Finally he got a patient and performed the
operation. It took eight hours and cost him $17 more than his fee of
$20....
One day, two months after the patient was discharged as cured, the
surgeon stopped in his rambles to observe a street parade. It was the
annual turnout of Good Hope Lodge, No. 72, of the Patriotic Order of
American Rosicrucians. The cured patient, marching as Supreme Worthy
Archon, wore a lavender baldric, a pea-green sash, an aluminum helmet
and scarlet gauntlets, and carried an ormolu sword and the blue
polka-dot flag of a rear-admiral....
With a low cry the surgeon jumped down a sewer and was seen no more.
_II.--The Incomparable Physician_
The eminent physician, Yen Li-Shen, being called in the middle of the
night to the bedside of the rich tax-gatherer, Chu Yi-Foy, found his
distinguished patient suffering from a spasm of the liver. An
examination of the pulse, tongue, toe-nails, and hair-roots revealing
the fact that the malady was caused by the presence of a multitude of
small worms in the blood, the learned doctor forthwith dispatched his
servant to his surgery for a vial of gnats' eyes dissolved in the saliva
of men executed by strangling, that being the remedy advised by Li
Tan-Kien and other high authorities for the relief of this painful and
dangerous condition.
When the servant returned the patient was so far gone that Cheyne-Stokes
breathing had already set in, and so the doctor decided to administer
the whole contents of the vial--an heroic dose, truly, for it has been
immemorially held that even so little as the amount that will cling to
the end of a horse hair is sufficient to cure. Alas, in his professional
zeal and excitement, the celebrated pathologist permitted his hand to
shake like a myrtle leaf in a Spring gale, and so he dropped not only
the contents of the vial, but also the vial itself down the oesophagus
of his moribund patient.
The accident, however, did not impede the powerful effects of this
famous remedy. In ten minutes Chu Yi-Foy was so far recovered that he
asked for a plate of rice stewed with plums, and by morning he was able
to leave his bed and receive the reports of his spies, informers and
extortioners. That day he sent for Dr. Yen and in token of his
gratitude, for he was a just and righteous man, settled upon him in due
form of law, and upon his heirs and assigns in perpetuity, the whole
rents, rates, imposts and taxes, amounting to no less than ten thousand
Hangkow taels a year, of two of the streets occupied by money-changers,
bird-cage makers and public women in the town of Szu-Loon, and of the
related alleys, courts and lanes. And Dr. Yen, with his old age and the
old age of his seven sons and thirty-one grandsons now safely provided
for, retired from the practise of his art, and devoted himself to a
tedious scientific inquiry (long the object of his passionate
aspiration) into the precise physiological relation between gravel in
the lower lobe of the heart and the bursting of arteries in the arms and
legs.
So passed many years, while Dr. Yen pursued his researches and sent his
annual reports of progress to the Academy of Medicine at Chan-Si, and
Chu Yi-Foy increased his riches and his influence, so that his arm
reached out from the mountains to the sea. One day, in his eightieth
year, Chu Yi-Foy fell ill again, and, having no confidence in any other
physician, sent once more for the learned and now venerable Dr. Yen.
"I have a pain," he said, "in my left hip, where the stomach dips down
over the spleen. A large knob has formed there. A lizard, perhaps, has
got into me. Or perhaps a small hedge-hog."
Dr. Yen thereupon made use of the test for lizards and hedge-hogs--to
wit, the application of madder dye to the Adam's apple, turning it lemon
yellow if any sort of reptile is within, and violet if there is a
mammal--but it failed to operate as the books describe. Being thus led
to suspect a misplaced and wild-growing bone, perhaps from the vertebral
column, the doctor decided to have recourse to surgery, and so, after
the proper propitiation of the gods, he administered to his eminent
patient a draught of opium water, and having excluded the wailing women
of the household from the sick chamber, he cut into the protuberance
with a small, sharp knife, and soon had the mysterious object in his
hand.... It was the vial of dissolved gnats' eyes--_still full and
tightly corked_! Worse, it was _not_ the vial of dissolved gnats' eyes,
but a vial of common burdock juice--the remedy _for infants griped by
their mothers' milk_....
But when the eminent Chu Yi-Foy, emerging from his benign stupor, made a
sign that he would gaze upon the cause of his distress, it was a bone
that Dr. Yen Li-Shen showed him--an authentic bone, ovoid and
evil-looking--and lately the knee cap of one Ho Kwang, brass maker in
the street of Szchen-Kiang. Dr. Yen carried this bone in his girdle to
keep off the black, blue and yellow plagues. Chu Yi-Foy, looking upon
it, wept the soft, grateful tears of an old man.
"This is twice," he said, "that you, my learned friend, have saved my
life. I have hitherto given you, in token of my gratitude, the rents,
rates, imposts and taxes, of two streets, and of the related alleys,
courts and lanes. I now give you the weight of that bone in diamonds,
in rubies, in pearls or in emeralds, as you will. And whichever of the
four you choose, I give you the other three also. For is it not said by
K'ung Fu-tsze, 'The good physician bestows what the gods merely
promise'?"
And Dr. Yen Li-Shen lowered his eyes and bowed. But he was too old in
the healing art to blush.
_III.--Neighbours_
Once I lay in hospital a fortnight while an old man died by inches
across the hall. Apparently a very painful, as it was plainly a very
tedious business. I would hear him breathing heavily for fifteen or
twenty minutes, and then he would begin shrieking in agony and yelling
for his orderly: "Charlie! Charlie! Charlie!" Now and then a nurse would
come into my room and report progress: "The old fellow's kidneys have
given up; he can't last the night," or, "I suppose the next choking
spell will fetch him." Thus he fought his titanic fight with the gnawing
rats of death, and thus I lay listening, myself quickly recovering from
a sanguinary and indecent operation.... Did the shrieks of that old man
startle me, worry me, torture me, set my nerves on edge? Not at all. I
had my meals to the accompaniment of piteous yells to God, but day by
day I ate them more heartily. I lay still in bed and read a book or
smoked a cigar. I damned my own twinges and fading malaises. I argued
ignorantly with the surgeons. I made polite love to the nurses who
happened in. At night I slept soundly, the noise retreating benevolently
as I dropped off. And when the old fellow died at last, snarling and
begging for mercy with his last breath, the unaccustomed stillness made
me feel lonesome and sad, like a child robbed of a tin whistle.... But
when a young surgeon came in half an hour later, and, having dined to
his content, testified to it by sucking his teeth, cold shudders ran
through me from stem to stern.
_IV.--From the Chart_
Temperature: 99.7. Respiration: rising to 65 and then suddenly
suspended. The face is flushed, and the eyes are glazed and half-closed.
There is obviously a sub-normal reaction to external stimuli. A fly upon
the ear is unnoticed. The auditory nerve is anesthetic. There is a
swaying of the whole body and an apparent failure of co-ordination,
probably the effect of some disturbance in the semi-circular canals of
the ear. The hands tremble and then clutch wildly. The head is inclined
forward as if to approach some object on a level with the shoulder. The
mouth stands partly open, and the lips are puckered and damp. Of a
sudden there is a sound as of a deep and labored inspiration, suggesting
the upward curve of Cheyne-Stokes breathing. Then comes silence for 40
seconds, followed by a quick relaxation of the whole body and a sharp
gasp....
One of the internes has kissed a nurse.
_V.--The Interior Hierarchy_
The world awaits that pundit who will study at length the relative
respectability of the inward parts of man--his pipes and bellows, his
liver and lights. The inquiry will take him far into the twilight zones
of psychology. Why is the vermiform appendix so much more virtuous and
dignified than its next-door neighbor, the cæcum? Considered
physiologically, anatomically, pathologically, surgically, the cæcum is
the decenter of the two. It has more cleanly habits; it is more
beautiful; it serves a more useful purpose; it brings its owner less
often to the doors of death. And yet what would one think of a lady who
mentioned her cæcum? But the appendix--ah, the appendix! The appendix
is pure, polite, ladylike, even noble. It confers an unmistakable
stateliness, a stamp of position, a social consequence upon its
possessor. And, by one of the mysteries of viscerology, it confers even
_more_ stateliness upon its _ex_-possessor!
Alas, what would you! Why is the stomach such a libertine and outlaw in
England, and so highly respectable in the United States? No Englishman
of good breeding, save he be far gone in liquor, ever mentions his
stomach in the presence of women, clergymen, or the Royal Family. To
avoid the necessity--for Englishmen, too, are subject to the colic--he
employs various far-fetched euphemisms, among them, the poetical Little
Mary. No such squeamishness is known in America. The American discusses
his stomach as freely as he discusses his business. More, he regards its
name with a degree of respect verging upon reverence--and so he uses it
as a euphemism for the whole region from the diaphragm to the pelvic
arch. Below his heart he has only a stomach and a vermiform appendix.
In the Englishman that large region is filled entirely by his liver, at
least in polite conversation. He never mentions his kidneys save to his
medical adviser, but he will tell even a parlor maid that he is feeling
liverish. "Sorry, old chap; I'm not up to it. Been seedy for a
fortnight. Touch of liver, I dessay. Never felt quite fit since I came
Home. Bones full of fever. Damned old liver always kicking up. Awfully
sorry, old fellow. Awsk me again. Glad to, pon my word." But never the
American! Nay, the American keeps his liver for his secret thoughts.
Hobnailed it may be, and the most interesting thing within his
frontiers, but he would blush to mention it to a lady.
Myself intensely ignorant of anatomy, and even more so of the punctilio,
I yet attempted, one rainy day, a roster of the bodily parts in the
order of their respectability. Class I was small and exclusive; when I
had put in the heart, the brain, the hair, the eyes and the vermiform
appendix, I had exhausted all the candidates. Here were the five
aristocrats, of dignity even in their diseases--appendicitis, angina
pectoris, aphasia, acute alcoholism, astigmatism: what a row of a's!
Here were the dukes, the cardinals, nay, the princes of the blood. Here
were the supermembers; the beyond-parts.
In Class II I found a more motley throng, led by the collar-bone on the
one hand and the tonsils on the other. And in Class III--but let me
present my classification and have done:
CLASS II
Collar-bone
Stomach (American)
Liver (English)
Bronchial tubes
Arms (excluding elbows)
Tonsils
Vocal chords
Ears
Cheeks
Chin
CLASS III