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“Do you mean the weak or the unfortunate?” Very well, O’Do
“I mean what I say—the weak.” The old man’s voice had a sharper tone, but O’Do
“Do you really think, Eustace, that mankind is so degenerate now?” Amelia Brown had asked the question, and O’Do
“We’re moving toward degeneracy,” the old man answered her, “at least in the Western world. We’re preserving the cripples, the weaklings, and the disease-ridden. We’re accumulating burdens on society, non-producers—the unfit, unable to contribute anything to the common good. Tell me—what purpose does a sanatorium or a home for incurables serve? I tell you, medicine today is preserving people who should be allowed to die. But we’re helping them to live, then letting them spawn and multiply, passing along their uselessness to their children and their children’s children.”
O’Do
“Strength is of the mind as well as the body,” Eustace Swayne snapped back. “Don’t children inherit the mental characteristics of their parents—and their weaknesses?”
“Not all of the time.” This was between the old tycoon and O’Do
“But a lot of the time they do. Well, don’t they?”
O’Do
Swayne snorted. “It’s one of the reasons we’ve so many mental hospitals. And patients in them. And people ru
“It could also be that we’re more aware of mental health.”
Swayne mimicked him. “It could also be that we’re breeding people who are weak, weak, weak!”
The old man had almost shouted the last words. Now a bout of coughing seized him. I’d better go easily, O’Do
Just as if O’Do
O’Do
“They’re part of evolution and evolution is a part of nature. It all adds up to the balancing process.”
Admiringly O’Do
Swayne snapped back, “How do you reason that?”
“Because medicine is a part of evolution.” Despite his good resolution O’Do
“But they’re problems of medicine, not nature.” Swayne’s eyes had a malicious gleam. “If nature were left alone it would settle its problems before they arose—by natural selection of the fittest.”
“You’re wrong and I’ll tell you why.” O’Do
“Bravo!” Impulsively Amelia Brown clapped her palms together. But O’Do
“That’s why we fought polio, Mr. Swayne, and the black plague, and smallpox, and typhus, and syphilis. It’s why we’re still fighting cancer and tuberculosis and all the rest. It’s the reason we have those places you talked about—the sanatoria, the homes for incurables. It’s why we preserve people—all the people we can, the weak as well as the strong. Because it adds up to one thing—survival. It’s the standard of medicine, the only one we can possibly have.”
For a moment he expected Swayne to lash back as he had before. But the old man was silent. Then he looked over at his daughter. “Pour Dr. O’Do
O’Do
Replenishing the old man’s glass, she asked, “If you really feel the way you say, Father, what are you doing on a hospital board?”
Eustace Swayne chuckled. “Mostly I’m there because Orden and some others are hoping I won’t change my will.” He looked over at Orden Brown. “They reckon there can’t be long to wait in any case.”
“You’re doing your friends an injustice, Eustace,” Brown said. His tone contained the right mixture of banter and seriousness.
“And you’re a liar.” The old man was enjoying himself again. He said, “You asked a question, Denise. Well, I’ll answer it. I’m on the hospital board because I’m a practical man. The world’s the way it is and I can’t change it, even though I see what’s wrong. But what someone like me can be is a balancing force. Oh, I know what some of you think—that I’m just an obstructionist.”
Orden Brown interjected quickly, “Has anyone ever said that?”
“You don’t have to.” Swayne shot a half-amused, malicious glance at the board chairman. “But every activity needs a brake on it somewhere. That’s what I’ve been—a brake, a steadying force. And when I’m gone perhaps you and your friends will find you need another.”
“You’re talking nonsense, Eustace. And you’re doing your own motives an injustice.” Orden Brown had evidently decided to be equally direct. He went on, “You’ve done as many good things in Burlington as any man I know.”
The old man seemed to shrink back into his chair. He grumbled, “How do any of us really know our own motives?” Then, looking up, “I suppose you’ll expect a big donation from me for this new extension.”
Orden Brown said smoothly, “Frankly, we hope you’ll see fit to make your usual generous contribution.”
Softly, unexpectedly, Eustace Swayne said, “I suppose a quarter of a million dollars would be acceptable.”
O’Do
Brown said, “I can’t pretend, Eustace. Frankly, I’m overwhelmed.”
“No need to be.” The old man paused, twirling the stem of his brandy glass. “I haven’t decided yet, though I’ve been considering it. I’ll tell you in a week or two.” Abruptly he turned to O’Do
O’Do
“Dr. Pearson and I play a lot of chess.” He was looking at O’Do
“Yes. Very well.”
“I’ve known Dr. Pearson for many years,” Swayne said, “in Three Counties Hospital and out of it.” The words were slow and deliberate. Did they have an undertone of warning? It was hard to be sure.