a mortal antipathy-第47章

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shall　find　myself　restored　to　my　place　among　my　fellow…beings；　or；　as

I　devoutly　hope；　in　a　sphere　where　all　our　mortal　infirmities　are

past　and　forgotten。



I　have　told　the　story　of　a　blighted　life　without　reserve；　so　that

there　shall　not　remain　any　mystery　or　any　dark　suspicion　connected

with　my　memory　if　I　should　be　taken　away　unexpectedly。　　It　has　cost

me　an　effort　to　do　it；　but　now　that　my　life　is　on　record　I　feel　more

reconciled　to　my　lot；　with　all　its　possibilities；　and　among　these

possibilities　is　a　gleam　of　a　better　future。　　I　have　been　told　by　my

advisers；　some　of　them　wise；　deeply　instructed；　and　kind…hearted　men；

that　such　a　life…destiny　should　be　related　by　the　subject　of　it　for

the　instruction　of　others；　and　especially　for　the　light　it　throws　on

certain　peculiarities　of　human　character　often　wrongly　interpreted　as

due　to　moral　perversion；　when　they　are　in　reality　the　results　of

misdirected　or　reversed　actions　in　some　of　the　closely　connected

nervous　centres。



For　myself　I　can　truly　say　that　I　have　very　little　morbid　sensibility

left　with　reference　to　the　destiny　which　has　been　allotted　to　me。　　I

have　passed　through　different　stages　of　feeling　with　reference　to　it；

as　I　have　developed　from　infancy　to　manhood。　　At　first　it　was　mere

blind　instinct　about　which　I　had　no　thought；　living　like　other

infants　the　life　of　impressions　without　language　to　connect　them　in

series。　　In　my　boyhood　I　began　to　be　deeply　conscious　of　the

infirmity　which　separated　me　from　those　around　me。　　In　youth　began

that　conflict　of　emotions　and　impulses　with　the　antagonistic

influence　of　which　I　have　already　spoken；　a　conflict　which　has　never

ceased；　but　to　which　I　have　necessarily　become　to　a　certain　degree

accustomed；　and　against　the　dangers　of　which　I　have　learned　to　guard

myself　habitually。　　That　is　the　meaning　of　my　isolation。　　You；　young

man；if　at　any　time　your　eyes　shall　look　upon　my　melancholy　record；

you　at　least　will　understand　me。　　Does　not　your　heart　throb；　in　the

presence　of　budding　or　blooming　womanhood；　sometimes　as　if　it　〃were

ready　to　crack〃　with　its　own　excess　of　strain？　　What　if　instead　of

throbbing　it　should　falter；　flutter；　and　stop　as　if　never　to　beat

again？　　You；　young　woman；　who　with　ready　belief　and　tender　sympathy

will　look　upon　these　pages；　if　they　are　ever　spread　before　you；　know

what　it　is　when　your　breast　heaves　with　uncontrollable　emotion　and

the　grip　of　the　bodice　seems　unendurable　as　the　embrace　of　the　iron

virgin　of　the　Inquisition。　　Think　what　it　would　be　if　the　grasp　were

tightened　so　that　no　breath　of　air　could　enter　your　panting　chest！



Does　your　heart　beat　in　the　same　way；　young　man；　when　your　honored

friend；　a　venerable　matron　of　seventy　years；　greets　you　with　her

kindly　smile　as　it　does　in　the　presence　of　youthful　loveliness？　　When

a　pretty　child　brings　you　her　doll　and　looks　into　your　eyes　with

artless　grace　and　trustful　simplicity；　does　your　pulse　quicken；　do

you　tremble；　does　life　palpitate　through　your　whole　being；　as　when

the　maiden　of　seventeen　meets　your　enamored　sight　in　the　glow　of　her

rosebud　beauty？　　Wonder　not；　then；　if　the　period　of　mystic　attraction

for　you　should　be　that　of　agitation；　terror；　danger；　to　one　in　whom

the　natural　current　of　the　instincts　has　had　its　course　changed　as

that　of　a　stream　is　changed　by　a　convulsion　of　nature；　so　that　the

impression　which　is　new　life　to　you　is　death　to　him。



I　am　now　twenty…five　years　old。　　I　have　reached　the　time　of　life

which　I　have　dreamed；　nay　even　ventured　to　hope；　might　be　the　limit

of　the　sentence　which　was　pronounced　upon　me　in　my　infancy。　　I　can

assign　no　good　reason　for　this　anticipation。　　But　in　writing　this

paper　I　feel　as　if　I　were　preparing　to　begin　a　renewed　existence。

There　is　nothing　for　me　to　be　ashamed　of　in　the　story　I　have　told。

There　is　no　man　living　who　would　not　have　yielded　to　the　sense　of

instantly　impending　death　which　seized　upon　me　under　the　conditions　I

have　mentioned。　　Martyrs　have　gone　singing　to　their　flaming　shrouds；

but　never　a　man　could　hold　his　breath　long　enough　to　kill　himself；　he

must　have　rope　or　water；　or　some　mechanical　help；　or　nature　will　make

him　draw　in　a　breath　of　air；　and　would　make　him　do　so　though　he　knew

the　salvation　of　the　human　race　would　be　forfeited　by　that　one　gasp。



This　paper　may　never　reach　the　eye　of　any　one　afflicted　in　the　same

way　that　I　have　been。　　It　probably　never　will；　but　for　all　that；

there　are　many　shy　natures　which　will　recognize　tendencies　in

themselves　in　the　direction　of　my　unhappy　susceptibility。　　Others；　to

whom　such　weakness　seems　inconceivable；　will　find　their　scepticism

shaken；　if　not　removed；　by　the　calm；　judicial　statement　of　the　Report

drawn　up　for　the　Royal　Academy。　　It　will　make　little　difference　to　me

whether　my　story　is　accepted　unhesitatingly　or　looked　upon　as　largely

a　product　of　the　imagination。　　I　am　but　a　bird　of　passage　that　lights

on　the　boughs　of　different　nationalities。　　I　belong　to　no　flock；　my

home　may　be　among　the　palms　of　Syria；　the　olives　of　Italy；　the　oaks

of　England；　the　elms　that　shadow　the　Hudson　or　the　Connecticut；　I

build　no　nest；　to…day　I　am　here；　to…morrow　on　the　wing。



If　I　quit　my　native　land　before　the　trees　have　dropped　their　leaves　I

shall　place　this　manuscript　in　the　safe　hands　of　one　whom　I　feel　sure

that　I　can　trust；　to　do　with　it　as　he　shall　see　fit。　　If　it　is　only

curious　and　has　no　bearing　on　human　welfare；　he　may　think　it　well　to

let　it　remain　unread　until　I　shall　have　passed　away。　　If　in　his

judgment　it　throws　any　light　on　one　of　the　deeper　mysteries　of　our

nature；the　repulsions　which　play　such　a　formidable　part　in　social

life；　and　which　must　be　recognized　as　the　correlatives　of　the

affinities　that　distribute　the　individuals　governed　by　them　in　the

face　of　impediments　which　seem　to　be　impossibilities；then　it　may　be

freely　given　to　the　world。



But　if　I　am　here　when　the　leaves　are　all　fallen；　the　programme　of　my

life　will　have　changed；　and　this　story　of　the　dead　past　will　be

illuminated　by　the　light　of　a　living　present　which　will　irradiate　all

its　saddening　features。　　Who　would　not　pray　that　my　last　gleam　of

light　and　hope　may　be　that　of　dawn　and　not　of　departing　day？



The　reader　who　finds　it　hard　to　accept　the　reality　of　a　story　so　far

from　the　common　range　of　experience　is　once　more　requested　to　suspend

his　judgment　until　he　has　read　the　paper　which　will　next　be　offered

for　his　consideration。





THE　REPORT　OF　THE　BIOLOGICAL　COMMITTEE。



Perhaps　it　is　too　much　to　expect　a　reader　who　wishes　to　be

entertained；　excited；　amused；　and　does　not　want　to　work　his　passage

through　pages　which　he　cannot　understand　without　some　effort　of　his

own；　to　read　the　paper　which　follows　and　Dr。　Butts's　reflections　upon

it。　　If　he　has　no　curiosity　in　the　direction　of　these　chapters；　he

can　afford　to　leave　them　to　such　as　relish　a　slight　flavor　of

science。　　But　if　he　does　so　leave　them　he　will　very　probably　remain

sceptical　as　to　the　truth　of　the　story　to　which　they　are　meant　to

furnish　him　with　a　key。



Of　course　the　case　of　Maurice　Kirkwood　is　a　remarkable　and

exceptional　one；　and　it　is　hardly　probable　that　any　reader's

experience　will　furnish　him　with　its　parallel。　　But　let　him　look　back

over　all　his　acquaintances；　if　he　has　reached　middle　life；　and　see　if

he　cannot　recall　more　than　one　who；　for　some　reason　or　other；　shunned

the　society　of　young　women；　as　if　they　had　a　deadly　fear　of　their

company。　　If　he　remembers　any　such；　he　can　understand　the　simple

statements　and　natural　reflections　which　are　laid　before　him。



One　of　the　most　singular　facts　connected　with　the　history　of　Maurice

Kirkwood　was　the　philosophical　equanimity　with　which　he　submitted　to

the　fate　which　had　fallen　upon　him。　　He　did　not　choose　to　be　pumped

by　the　Interviewer；　who　would　show　him　up　in　the　sensational　columns

of　his　prying　newspaper。　　He　lived　chiefly　by　himself；　as　the　easiest

mode　of　avo