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Place—The surgical amphitheatre in a hospital. Time—Noon of a fair day. Seats rising in curved tiers. The operating pit paved with white tiles. The usual operating table has been pushed to one side, and in place of it there is a small glass-topped bedside table. The Clergyman is discovered standing behind the table in an expectant attitude. He is in the long white coat of a surgeon, with his head wrapped in white gauze and a gauze respirator over his mouth. His chunkiness suggests a fat, middle-aged Episcopal rector, but it is impossible to see either his face or his vestments. He wears rubber gloves of a dirty orange color, evidently much used. The Bridegroom and The Best Man have just emerged from the Anesthetic Room and are standing before him. Both are dressed exactly as he is, save that The Bridegroom’s rubber gloves are white. The benches running up the amphitheatre are filled with spectators, chiefly After a long and uneasy pause The Bride comes in from the Anesthetic Room on the arm of her Father, with the Four Bridesmaids following by twos. She is dressed in what appears to be white linen, with a long veil of aseptic gauze. The gauze testifies to its late and careful sterilization by yellowish scorches. There is a white rubber glove upon the Bride’s right hand, but that belonging to her left hand has been removed. Her Father is dressed like the Best Man. The Four Bridesmaids are in the garb of surgical nurses, with their hair completely concealed by turbans of gauze. As the Bride takes her place before the Clergyman, with the Bridegroom at her right, there is a faint, snuffling murmur among the spectators. It hushes suddenly as the Clergyman clears his throat. The Clergyman (In sonorous, booming tones, somewhat muffled by his respirator.) 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 (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 (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 (Signed) 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 (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 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, 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 (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 |
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