Part 25 (1/2)
”He has slept most of the day,” I replied. ”I have not insisted upon my relations.h.i.+p with him, if that is what you mean. Dr. Wallingford felt that might be unwise, at this stage.”
”Sehr gut, sehr gut.” Schadenfreude rubbed his hands together and showed me a set of perfect white teeth. ”I will alone the patient examine. You permit, Frau Professor?” Schadenfreude rubbed his hands together and showed me a set of perfect white teeth. ”I will alone the patient examine. You permit, Frau Professor?”
He did not wait for my permission, but flung the door open and vanished within, closing said door with a slam.
”Peculiar little guy, isn't he?” Cyrus said proudly, as if Schadenfreude's eccentricities proved his medical prowess.
”Er- quite. Cyrus, are you certain- ”
”My dear, he's a wonder. I'm a living testimonial to his talents.”
Schadenfreude was inside quite a long time. Not a sound emerged- not even the shouts I fully expected to hear from Emerson- and I was getting rather fidgety before the door finally opened
”Nein, nein, gnadige Frau Frau” said Schadenfreude, holding me back when I would have entered. ”It is a discussion we must have before you speak so much as a single word to the afflicted one. Lead us, Herr Vandergelt, to a place of discussion and supply, bitte bitte, something of refreshment for the lady.”
We retired to my sitting room. I refused the brandy the doctor tried to press upon me- the situation was too serious for the temporary consolation of spirits- and he applied himself to the beer he had requested with such gusto that when he emerged from the gla.s.s his mustache was frosted with foam. However, when he began to speak I had no inclination to laugh at him.
Many people at that time were skeptical about the theories of psychotherapy. My own mind is always receptive to new ideas, however repellent they may be, and I had read with interest the works of psychologists such as William James and Wilhelm Wundt. Since some of their axioms- particularly Herbart's concept of the threshold of consciousness- agreed with my own observations of human nature, I was inclined to believe that the discipline, when refined and developed, might offer useful insights. Herr Doktor Schadenfreude's theories were certainly unorthodox, but I found them horribly plausible.
”The immediate cause of your husband's amnesia is physical trauma- a blow on the head. Has he often suffered injury to that region?”
”Why- not to an excessive degree,” I began.
”I don't know about that,” Cyrus demurred. ”I can remember at least two occasions during the few weeks we were together at Baskerville House There's something about my old pal that makes people want to beat him over the head.”
”He does not avoid physical encounters when he is defending the helpless or righting a wrong,” I declared.
”Also. But the blow was only the catalyst, the immediate cause. It broke not only his head but the invisible membrane of the unconscious mind, and from this rent, this weakened part of the fabric, rushed fears and desires long suppressed by the conscious will. In short- in lay terms, gnadige Frau gnadige Frau und Herr Vandergelt- he has forgotten the things he does not want to remember!”
”You mean,” I said painfully, ”he does not want to remember ME.”
”Not you as yourself, Frau Emerson. It is the symbol he rejects.” When a man gets to talking about his own subject he is inclined to be verbose. I will therefore summarize the doctor's lecture. (I must warn the Reader that some of his statements were quite shocking.)
Man and woman, he declared, were natural enemies. Marriage was at best an armed truce between individuals whose basic natures were totally opposed. The need of Woman, the homemaker, was for peace and security. The need of Man, the hunter, was for the freedom to prey upon his fellowmen and upon women (the doctor put this more politely, but I caught his meaning). Society aimed to control these natural desires of man, religion forbade them. But the walls of constraint were constantly under attack by the brute nature of Man, and when there was a rent in the fabric, the brute burst forth
”Good gracious,” I murmured, when the doctor paused to wipe his perspiring brow.
Cyrus had gone beet-red and was biting his lip to repress strangled noises of indignation and denial. ”Doggone it, Doctor, I have to object to your language in the presence of Mrs. Emerson- and to your slur upon the masculine gender. We aren't all- er- ravening beasts. You did say 'ravening,' didn't you?”
”Ravening and l.u.s.ting,” said Schadenfreude happily. ”Yes, yes, that is the nature of man. Some of you repress your true natures successfully, mein Freund mein Freund; but beware! The greater the control, the more the pressure builds, and if there is a rent in the fabric of the walls- BOOM!”
Cyrus jumped. ”Now see here, Doc- ”
”Be calm, Cyrus,” I urged ”The doctor is not being rude, he is being scientific. I am not offended, and indeed, I find some sense in his diagnosis. However, I am not so much interested in a diagnosis as in a cure. To employ your own metaphor, Doctor (and a striking one it is), how do we force the- er- beast back behind the wall and what kind of plaster do we use to mend it?”
Schadenfreude beamed approvingly at me. ”You have an almost masculine directness, Frau Emerson The procedure is obvious. One does not employ brute force against brute force, the ensuing struggle might wound both combatants mortally.”
”Striking as the metaphor is, I would prefer a more practical suggestion,” I said. ”What am I to do?