“Your theory is nil, unnatural,” I was informed. “Nothing living has the power to survive the shock of test. The subject from the start is doomed to inward decay—you kill the strength nerves,” and I had “grasped a suggestion that only a master’s mind could complete.” Raw, immature, my great theory might be, but it was neither unnatural or impracticable; some bright, young student would master the science that I, through lack of ability for application (?) failed to perfect. Beneath the sun there is nothing new. The wonderful theory I dallied with had been in practice centuries ago and with many other valuable sciences had through disuse fallen out of existence.
The intellect of Time is degenerating with Earth. We grasp and marvel at that at which the ancient giant intellects simply nodded approval. Modernity is the reflection of miraculous originality of the early ages.
My career as a physician came abruptly to an end. I was wearied, and for the benefit of science would sacrifice nothing. That which had animated me now became an abomination. The profession of medicine had not scope enough to bring contentment or make me realize the vast ambition of pride. Vanity! vanity! vanity! I floated rudderless upon this cloudy lake and plunged into the huge, sulky, black waves of Disappointment, yet for an instant I gazed in the far distance—beautiful, enchanting, where the sun of Fame gilded the enticing pool of Success.
From my gigantic blunder I had the courage to extricate myself, renouncing the delights that absorb indolent others who declare the world an illusion and life an exertion. I donated large sums to various colleges to be expended in penetrating the mysterious science I failed in, then for years wandered over the world, aimless, melancholy, craving, ever searching the grand, supreme idea that I knew would reach me before peace.
India, that great field of abundant superstition, mildly restored my shattered energies. The occult science in its most malignant form attacked me. I was enchanted with fanatical proverbs tantalizing in their promise of what?—nothing.
I engaged a dwelling and furnished it up with barbaric splendor, then watched the subtle operations of the strange people I surrounded myself with. They possessed extraordinary imaginations and narrative powers, and, because it was impossible, I developed a keen desire to experience some of the delights these fanatics extolled.
Following instructions, I spent weeks in the mountains, inhaling dank vapors and camped in the wilderness, fasting for days, reading a book—for what purpose I never discovered—and ended it all as unimaginative as ever. I tried my utmost to become convinced of the supernatural, but never for an instant lost the knowledge I was an ass to so ardently pursue Folly, in her mock seriousness. I became shamed with the realization of the utter nonsense I permitted my intellect to roam in and the wild-eyed fanatics with their shrieks and convulsions and frenzied endeavors to convince, nauseated me when I discovered it was all acting, mere acting, and they were less sincere than I.
The fanaticism, immorality, the full rein given to sensualism and vulgar superstition disgusted me. Naught but undeveloped or diseased minds are convinced of such farces—an obnoxious weight upon civilization. My cold, calm, reasoning of the subject flashed clear, strong, like a vivid blaze of light, I stood alone but powerfully in the right. My ideas were ahead of my time, that was all. I suddenly ended my researches in the occult.
I became a worshipper of nature, and gloated in the sunset with its rare, rich coloring; in rapture I gazed upon the ocean with its tracery, lace-flecked waves and grand swell bursting in deep roar. I calmed my vision with the azure vaults above gradually deepening to a purple beyond imitation to be studded with billions and trillions of brilliant twinkling lights, then at the white, mysterious globe, sailing majestically alone; and finally at noontide, I worshipped the brazen, hot splendor of the Sun, and asked what was more awe-inspiring or worthy of devotion than this vast, beautiful Something, we call Nature. With joy I realized I alone had solved the mystery all were struggling to solve. Nature, divine, beautiful Nature, ruled the universe. Continually before us is laid this grand example in its chaste regulations which never offends, yet we the puny, tainted, little atoms, existing in this wonderful purity, continually offend all laws of Nature. If we formed our lives to compare with the vast splendor shining ever before us we would be divine. Eternity, the germ of imagination, soars to wonderful spheres, yet never reaches the sublime summit of the vast glory of the universe. And I still searched for the one great inspiration I knew I was destined for.
About this time I received urgent news from Middleton & Co. They demanded my return and conveyed the impression it was a matter of necessity, causing me to vaguely meditate upon the possibility if I had really reached the end of my powerful fortune. This was laughable, but Middleton & Co. had some strong reason—they always had strong reasons, and had entirely upset the rather flimsy plans I had formed for the future. I used some irritable language, though right down in my heart I had a hankering to see the old boys again.