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Chapter 13. In Which Professor Challenger Goes Forth to Battle · The Land of Mist

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  Chapter thirteen of the Land of Mist. This is a LibriVox recording. All
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  LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer,
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  please visit LibriVox dot org. Read by Isbelnucum The Land of Mist by Sir
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  Arthur Conan Doyle, in which Professor Challenger goes forth to battle. Professor Challenger
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  was in a bad humor, and when that was so, his household were
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  made aware of it. Neither were the effects of his wrath confined to those
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  around him. For most of those terrible letters which appeared from time to time
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  in the press, flaying and scarifying some unhappy opponent, were thunderbolt flashes from
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  an offended Jove who sat in somber majesty in his study throne on the heights
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  of a Victoria flat. Servants would hardly dare to enter the room, where,
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  glooming and glowering the maned and bearded head looked up from his papers as
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  a lion from a bone. Only Enid could dare him at such a time,
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  and even she felt occasionally that sinking of the heart which the bravest of
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  tamers may experience as he unbars the gait of the cage. She was not
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  safe from the accredity of his tongue, but at least she need not fear
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  physical violence, which was well within the possibilities for others. Sometimes these berserk
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  fits of the famous professor arose from material causes. Hepatic, Sir, hepatic,
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  he would explain in an extenuation after some aggrieved assault. But on this
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  particular occasion he had a very definite cause for discontent. It was spiritualism.
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  He never seemed to get away from the accursed superstition, a thing which ran
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  counter to the whole work and philosophy of his lifetime. He attempted to pooh
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  pooh it, to laugh at it, to ignore it with contempt, but
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  the confounded thing would insist upon obtruding itself once more. On Monday he would
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  write it finally off his books, and before Saturday he would be up to
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  his neck in it again. And the thing was so absurd it seemed to
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  him that his mind was being drawn from the great pressing material problems of the
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  universe in order to waste itself upon Grim's fairy tales or the ghosts of a
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  sensational novelist. Then things grew worse. First, Malone, who had,
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  in his simple fashion been an index figure representing the normal, clear headed human
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  being, had in some way been bedeviled by these people, and had committed
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  himself to their pernicious views. Then Enid, his ewe lamb, his one
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  real link with humanity, had also been corrupted. She had agreed with Malone's
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  conclusions. She had even hunted up a good deal of evidence of her own.
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  In Vain. He had himself investigated a case, improved beyond a shadow
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  of a doubt, that the medium was a designing villain who brought messages from
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  a widow's dead husband in order to get the woman into his power. It
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  was a clear case, and Enid admitted it. But neither she nor Malone
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  would allow any general applications. There are rogues in every line of life.
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  They would say, we must judge every movement by the best and not by
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  the worst. All this was bad enough, but worse still was in store.
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  He had been publicly humiliated by the spiritualists, and that by a man
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  who admitted that he had had no education and would in any other subject in
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  the world have been seated like a child at the professor's feet, and yet
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  in public debate. But the story must be told. Be it known then
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  that Challenger, greatly despising all opposition, and with no knowledge of the real
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  strength of the case to be answered, had, in a fatal moment,
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  actually asserted that he would descend from Olympus and would meet in debate any representative
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  whom the other party should select. I am well aware, he wrote,
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  that by such condescension, I, like any other man of science of equal
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  standing, run the risk of giving a dignity to these absurd and grotesque aberrations
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  of the human brain, which they could otherwise not pretend to claim. But
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  we must do our duty to the public, and we must occasionally turn from
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  our serious work and spare moment in order to sweep away those ephemeral cob webs
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  which might collect and become offensive if they were not dispersed by the broom of
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  science. Thus, in a most self confident fashion, did Goliath go forth
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  to meet his tiny antagonist, an ex printer's assistant and now the editor of
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  what Challenger would describe as an obscure print devoted to matters of the spirit.
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  The particulars of the debate are public property, and it is not necessary to
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  tell in any great detail that painful event. It will be remembered that the
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  great man of science went down to the Queen's Hall, accompanied by many rationalist
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  sympathizers who desired to see the final destruction of the visionaries. A large number
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  of these poor diluted creatures also attended, hoping against hope that their champion might
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  not be entirely immolated upon the altar of outraged science. Between them, the
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  two factions filled the hall and glared at each other with as much enmity as
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  did the Blues and the Greens a thousand years before in the Hippodrome of Constantinople.
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  There on the left of the platform were the solid ranks of those hard
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  and unbending rationalists, who look upon the Victorian agnostics as credulous and refresh their
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  faith by the periodical perusal of the literary gazette and the freethinker. There too
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  was doctor Joseph Balumer, the famous lecturer upon the absurdities of religion, together
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  with mister Edward Mold, who has insisted so eloquently upon man's claim to ultimate
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  putridity of the body and extinction of the soul. On the other side of
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  Maylee's yellow beard flamed like an oory flame. His wife sat on one side
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  of him, and Mervin the Journalist on the other, while dense ranks of
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  earnest men and women from the Queen's Square, Spiritual Alliance, from the Psychic
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  College, from the Stead Bureau, and from the outlying churches assembled in order
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  to encourage their champion in his hopeless task. The genial faces of bulls over
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  the grocer with his Hammersmith friends, Turbane, the Railway Medium, the Reverend
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  Charles Mason with his ascetic features, Tom Lindon, now happily released from bondage,
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  Missus Lindon, the Crew Circle, Doctor Atkinson, Lord Roxton, Malone,
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  and many other familiar faces were to be picked out amid that dense wall
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  of humanity between the two parties. Solemn and stolid and fat, sat Judge
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  Gaverson of the King's Bench, who had consented to preside. It was an
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  interesting and suggestive fact that, in this critical debate it which the very core,
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  vital center of real religion was the issue, the organized churches were entirely
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  aloof and neutral, drowsy and semi conscious. They could not disc ascerned that
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  the live intellect of the nation was really holding an inquisition upon their bodies to
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  determine whether they were doomed to the extinction towards which they were rapidly drifting,
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  or whether a resuscitation in other forms was among the possibilities of the future.
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  In front on one side, with his broad browed disciples behind him, sat
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  Professor Challenger, portents and threatening, his assyrian beard, projected in his most
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  aggressive fashion, a half smile upon his lips, and his eyelids drooping insolently
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  over his intolerant gray eyes. On the corresponding position. On the other side
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  was perched a drab and unpretentious person, over whose humble head challengers hat would
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  have descended to the shoulders. He was pale and apprehensive, glancing across occasionally
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  in apologetic and deprecating fashion at his Leon nine opponent. Yet those who knew
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  James Smith best were the least alarmed, for they were aware that behind his
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  commonplace and democratic appearance, there lay a knowledge of his subject, practical and
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  theoretical, such as few living men possessed. The wise men of the Psychical
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  Research Society are but children in psychic knowledge when compared with such practicing spiritualists as
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  James Smith, men whose whole lives are spent in various communion with the unseen.
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  Such men often lose touch with the world in which they dwell, and
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  are useless for its everyday purposes. But the editorship of a live paper in
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  the administration of a widespread, scattered community had kept Smith's feet solid upon earth,
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  while his excellent natural faculties, incorrupted by useless education, had enabled him
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  to concentrate upon the one field of knowledge which offers in itself a sufficient scope
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  for the greatest human intellect. Little as Challenger could appreciate it, the contest
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  was really one between a brilliant, discoursive amateur and a concentrated, highly specialized
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  professional. It was admitted on all sides that Challenger's opening half hour was a
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  magnificent display of oratory and argument. His deep organ voice, such a voice
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  as only a man with a fifty inch chest can produce, rose and fell
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  in perfect cadence, which enchanted his audience. He was born to sway any
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  assembly, an obvious leader of mankind. In turn, he was descriptive,
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  humorous, and convincing. He pictured the natural growth of animism amongst savages cowering
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  under the naked sky, unable to account for the beat of the rain or
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  the roar of the thunder, and seeing a benevolent or malicious intelligence behind those
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  operations of nature which science had now classified and explained. Hence, on false
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  premises was built up that the belief in spirits or invisible beings outside ourselves,
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  which by some curious activism, was re emerging in modern days among the less
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  educated strata of mankind. It was the duty of science to resist retrogressive tendencies
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  of the sort. And it was a sense of that duty which had reluctantly
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  drawn him from the privacy of his study to the publicity of this platform.
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  He rapidly sketched the movement as depicted by its wall. It was a most
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  unsavory story, as he told it, a story of crackling tow joints,
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  a phosphorescent paint of muslin, ghosts of a nauseous, sordid commission trade betwixt
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  dead men's bones on one side and widow's tears upon the other. These people
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  were the hyenas of the human race who battered upon the graves. Cheers from
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  the rationalists and ironical laughter from the spiritualists. They were not all rogues,
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  the thank you professor from a stentorian opponent, but the others were fools.
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  Laughter. Was it exaggeration to call a man a fool who believed that his
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  grandmother could rap out absurd messages with the leg of a dining room table.
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  Had any savages descended to so grotesque a superstition? These people had taken dignity
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  from death and had brought their own vulgarity into the serene oblivion of the tomb.
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  It was a hateful business. He was sorry to have to speak so
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  strongly, But only the knife or the cottery could deal with so camp rus
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  a growth. Surely man need not trouble himself with grotesque speculations as to the
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  nature of life beyond the grave. We had enough to do in this world.
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  Life was a beautiful thing. The man who appreciated its real duties and
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  beauties would have sufficient to employ him without dabbling in pseudosciences, which had their
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  roots and frauds exposed already a hundred times. And yet finding fresh crowds of
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  foolish devotees whose insane credulity and irrational prejudice made them impervious to all argument.
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  Such is a most bald and crude summary of this powerful opening argument. The
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  materialists roared their applause, the spiritualists looked angry and uneasy, while their spokesman
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  rose pale but resolute to answer the ponderous onslaught. His voice and appearance had
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  none of those qualities which make a challenger magnetic, but he was clearly audible
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  and made his points in precise fashion, like a workman who was familiar with
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  his tools. He was so polite and so apologetic at first that he gave
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  the impression of having been cowed. He felt it was almost presumptuous upon one
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  who had so little advantage of education to measuremental swords for an instant was so
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  renowned, an antagonist, one whom he had long revered. It seemed to
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  him, however, that in the long list of the professor's accomplishments, accomplishments
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  which had made him a household word throughout the world, there was one missing,
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  and unhappily it was just this one upon which he had been tempted to
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  speak. He had listened to that speech with admiration, so far as its
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  eloquence was concerned. But with surprise, and he might almost say with contempt.
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  When he analyzed the assertions which were contained in it, it was clear
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  that the professor had prepared his case by reading all the anti spiritualist literature which
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  he could lay his hands upon, a most tainted source of information, while
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  neglecting the works of those who speak from experience and conviction. All this talk
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  of cracking joints and other fraudulent tricks was mid Victorian in its ignorance, and
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  as to the grandmother talking through the leg of the table, he the speaker,
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  could not recognize it as a fair description of spiritualistic phenomena. Such comparisons
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  reminded one of the jokes made about the dancing frogs which impeded the recognition of
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  Volta's early electrical experiments. They were unworthy of Professor Challenger. He must surely
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  be aware that the fraudulent medium was the worst enemy of spiritualism, that he
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  was denounced by the name of psychic journals whenever he was discovered, and that
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  such exposures were usually made by the spiritualists themselves, who had spoken of human
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  hyenas as indignantly as his opponent had done. One did not condemn banks because
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  forgers occasionally use them for nefarious purposes. He was wasting the time of so
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  chosen an audience to descend to such a level of argument. Had Professor Challenger
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  denied the religious implications of spiritualism while admitting the phenomena, might have been harder
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  to dance for him. But in denying everything, he had placed himself in
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  an absolutely impossible position. No doubt, Professor her Challenger had read the recent
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  work of Professor Roche, the famous physiologist. That work extended over thirty years.
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  Ruche had verified all the phenomena. Perhaps Professor Challenger would inform the audience
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  what personal experience he had himself, which it gave him the right to talk
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  of Roche, Lombroso, or crooks as if they were superstitious savages. Possibly
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  his opponent had conducted experiments in private of which the world knew nothing. In
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  that case, he should give them to the world. Until he did so,
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  it was unscientific and really indecent to dride men hardly inferior in scientific reputation
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  to himself, who had actually had done such experiments and laid them before the
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  public. As to the self sufficiency of this world a successful professor with a
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  eupeptic body might take such a view. But if one found oneself with the
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  cancer of the stomach in the London garret, one might question the doctrine that
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  there was no need to yearn for any state of beings save that in which
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  we found ourselves. It was a workmanlike effort, illustrated with fact, states
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  and figures. Though it rose to no height of eloquence, it contained much
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  which needed an answer, and the sad fact emerged that the challenger was not
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  in a position to answer. He had read up on his own case,
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  but had neglected that of his adversary, excepting too easily the facile and specious
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  presumptions of incompetent writers who handled a matter which they had not themselves investigated.
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  Instead of answering, Challenger lost his temper. The lion began to roar.
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  He tossed his dark mane, and his eyes glowed, while his deep voice
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  reverberated through the hall. Who were these people? Took refuge behind a few
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  honored but misguided names. What right had they to expect serious men of science
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  to suspend their labors in order to waste time examining their wild surmises some things
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  were self evident and did not require proof. The onus of proof lay with
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  those who made the assertions. This gentleman whose name is unfamiliar, claims he
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  can raise spirits, let him call one up now before saying an unprejudiced audience.
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  If he says that he receives messages that, let him give us the
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  news in advance of the general agencies. It has often been done from the
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  spiritualists. I'm too accustomed to your wild assertions to take them seriously. Uproar
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  and judge Gaverson upon his feet. If he claims that he has higher inspiration,
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  let himself the peckham raie murder. If he is in touch with angelic
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  beings, let him give us a philosophy which is higher than the mortal mind
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  can evolve. This false show of science, this camouflage of ignorance, this
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  babble about ectoplasm and other mythical products of the psychic imagination, was mere obscuritism,
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  the bastard offspring of superstition and darkness. Wherever the matter was probed,
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  when came upon corruption and mental putrescence, every medium was a deliberate impostor.
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  You are a liar in a woman's voice from the neighborhood of the Lindons.
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  The voices of the dead had uttered nothing but childish twaddle. The asylums were
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  full of supporters of the cult, and would be still if everyone had his
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  due. It was a violent, but not an effective speech. Evidently the
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  great man was rattled. He realized that there was a case to be met,
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  and that he had not provided himself with the material wherewith to meet it.
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  Therefore, he had taken refuge in angry words and sweeping assertions, which
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  can only be safely made when there is no antagonists present to take advantage of
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  them. The spiritualists seemed more amused than angry. The materialists fidgeted uneasily in
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  their seats. Then James Smith rose for his last innings. He wore a
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  mischievous smile. There was quiet menace in his whole bearing. He must ask,
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  he said, for a more scientific attitude from his illustrious opponent. It
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  was an extraordinary fact that many scientific men, when our passions and prejudices were
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  excited, should a ludicrous disregard for all their own tenants. Of these tenants,
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  there were none more rigid than that a subject should be examined before was
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  condemned. We have seen of late years in such matters as well wireless or
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  heavier than air machines, that the most unlikely things may come to pass.
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  It is most dangerous to say a priory that a thing is impossible. Yet
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  this was the error into which Professor Challenger had fallen. He had used the
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  fame which he had rightly won in subjects which he had mastered, in order
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  to cast his credit upon the subject which he had not mastered. The fact
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  that a man was a great physiologist and physicist did not in itself make him
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  an authority upon psychic science. It was perfectly clear that Professor Challenger had not
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  read the standard works upon the subject on which he posed as an authority.
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  Could he tell the audience what the name of Shrink Nott Singh's medium was?
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  He paused for a reply. Could he then tell the name of doctor Crawford's
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  medium not? Could he tell them who had been the subject of Professor's owner's
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  experiments of Leipzig? What still silent? But these were the essential points of
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  the discussion. He had hesitated to be personal. But the Professor's robust language
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  caused for corresponding frankness upon his part. Was the professor aware that this ectoplasm
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  which he had derided had been examined lately by twenty German professors. The names
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  were here for reference, and all that had testified to its existence. How
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  could Professor Challenger deny that which these gentlemen asserted. Would he contend that they
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  were also criminals or fools? The fact was that the professor had come to
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  this hall entirely ignorant of the facts, and was now learning them for the
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  first time. He clearly had no perception that the psychic science had any laws
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  whatever, or he would not have formulated such childish requests as that an ectoplasmic
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  figure should manifest in full light upon this platform, when every student was aware
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  that ectoplasm was soluble. In light as to the peckham Rie murder, it
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  had never been claimed that the angel world was an annex to Scotland Yard.
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  It was a mere throwing of dust in the eyes of the public for a
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  man like Professor Challenger. It was at this moment that the explosion occurred.
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  Challenger had wriggled in his chair, Challenger had tugged at his beard. Challenger
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  had glared at the speaker. Now he suddenly sprang to the side of the
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  chairman's table with the bound of a wounded lion. That gentleman had been lying
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  back, half asleep, with his fat hands clutched across his ample paunch.
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  But at this sudden apparition he gave a convulsive start, which nearly carried him
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  into the orchestra. Sit down, sir, sit down, he cried,
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  I refuse to sit down, or challenger, sir, I appeal to you,
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  as chairman. Am I here to be insulted that these proceedings are intolerable?
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  I will stand it no longer if my private honor is touched. I
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  am justified in taking the matter into my own hands. Like many men who
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  override the opinions of others, Challenger was exceedingly sensitive when anyone took a liberty
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  with his own. Each successive incisive sentence of his opponent had been like a
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  barbed bandillo in the flanks of a foaming bowl. Now, in speechless fury,
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  he was shaking his huge, hairy fist over the chairman's head in the
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  direction of his adversary, whose derisive smile stimulated him to more furious plunges with
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  which he butted the president along the platform. The assembly had in an instant
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  become a pandemonium. Half the rationalists were scandalized, while other half shouted shame,
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  shame, as a sign of sympathy with their champion. The spiritualists had
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  broken into derisive shouts, while some rushed forward to protect their champion from physical
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  assault. We must get the whole deer out, said Lord Roxton to Malone.
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  He'll be had from manslaughter if we don't. What I mean is he's
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  not responsible. He'll sock someone and be lagged for it. The platform had
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  become a seething mob, while the auditorium was little better. Through the crush,
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  Malone and Roxton elbowed their way until they reached Challenger's side, and,
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  partly by judicious propulsion, partly by artful persuasion, they got him, still
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  bellowing his grievances, out of the building. There was a perfunctory vote to
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  the chairman. The meeting broke up in riot and confusion. The whole episode,
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  remarked the Times next morning, was a deplorable one, and forcibly illustrates
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  the danger of public debates where the subjects are such as to inflame the prejudices
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  of either speakers or audience. Such terms as microcephalous, idiot or Simeon's survival,
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  when applied by a world renowned professor to an opponent, illustrate the lengths
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  to which such disputants might permit themselves to go. Thus, by long interprelation
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  we have got back to the fact that Professor Challenger was in the worst of
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  humors as he sat with the above mentioned copy of The Times in his hand
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  and a heavy scowl upon his brow. And yet it was that very moment
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  that the injudicious malone had chosen in order to ask him the most intimate question
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  which one man can address to another. Yet perhaps it is hardly fair to
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  our friend's diplomacy to say that he had chosen the moment he had really called
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  in order to see for himself that a man for whom, in spite of
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  his eccentricities he had a deep reverence and affection, had not suffered from the
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  events of the night before. On that point he was speedily reassured intolerable,
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  roared the Professor, in a tone so unchanged that he might have been at
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  it all night. You were there yourself Malone, in spite of your inexplicable
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  and misguided sympathy for the fatuous views of these people, you must admit that
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  the whole conduct of the proceedings was intolerable, and that my righteous protest was
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  more than justified. It is possible that when I threw the chairman's table at
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  the President of the Psychic College, I passed the bounds of decorum, but
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  the provocation had been excessive. You will remember that the smith or brown person
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  his name is most immaterial, dared to accuse me of ignorance and of throwing
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  dust in the eyes of the audience. Quite so, said Malone soothingly.
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  Never mind, Professor, you got in one or two pretty hard knocks yourself.
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  Grim features unbent, and he rubbed his hands with glee. Yes,
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  yes, I fancy that some of my thrusts went home. I imagine that
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  they will not be forgotten. When I said that the asylums would be full
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  if every man of them had his due, I could see them. Whence
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  they all yelped, I remember, like a kennelful of puppies. It was
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  our preposterous claim that I should read their hair brained literature which caused me to
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  display some little heat. But I hope, my boy, that you have
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  called round this morning in order to tell me that what I said last night
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  has had some effect upon your own mind, and that you have reconsidered these
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  views, which are I confess a considerable tax upon our friendship. Malone took
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  his plunge like a man. I had something else in my mind when I
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  came here, said he. You must be aware that your daughter, Enid
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  and I have been thrown together a good deal of light to me, sir,
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  She's become the one woman in the world, and I shall never be
• 24:52
  happy untill she is my wife. I am not rich, but a good
• 24:56
  sub editorship has been offered to me, and I could well afford to marry.
• 25:00
  You have known me for some time, and I hope they have nothing
• 25:02
  against me. I trust, therefore, that I may count upon your approval
• 25:06
  in what I am about to do. Challenger stroked his beard, and his
• 25:08
  eyelids drooped dangerously over his eyes. My perceptions, said, he are not
• 25:15
  so dull that I should have failed to observe the relations which have been established
• 25:21
  between my daughter and yourself. This question, however, has become entangled with
• 25:26
  that other which we were discussing. You have both, I fear imbibed to
• 25:30
  this poisonous fallacy, which I am more and more inclined to devote my life
• 25:34
  to extirpating if only on the grounds of eugenics. I could not give my
• 25:38
  sanction to a union which was built upon such a foundation. I must ask
• 25:42
  you, therefore, for a definite assurance that your views have become more sane.
• 25:48
  I shall ask the same from her. And so Malone suddenly found himself
• 25:52
  also enrolled among the noble army of martyrs. It was a hard dilemma,
• 25:57
  but he faced it like the man he was. I am sure, sir,
• 26:02
  that you would not think the better of me if I allowed my views
• 26:03
  as to truth, whether they be right or wrong, to be swayed by
• 26:07
  material considerations. I cannot change my opinions even to when Enid, I am
• 26:12
  sure she would take the same view. Did you not think I had the
• 26:15
  better last night? I thought your address was very eloquent. Did I not
• 26:19
  convince you not in the face of the evidence of my own senses? Any
• 26:25
  conjuror could deceive your senses. I fear, sir, that my mind is
• 26:30
  made up on this point. Then my mind is made up, Also,
• 26:33
  roared Challenger, with a sudden glare. You will leave this house, sir,
• 26:37
  and you will return when you have regained your sanity. One moment,
• 26:41
  said Malone. I beg sir, that you will not precipitate. I value
• 26:45
  your friendship too much to risk the loss of it if it can in any
• 26:48
  way be avoided. Possibly, if I had your guidance, I would better
• 26:52
  understand these things that puzzle me, if I should be able to arrange it.
• 26:56
  Would you mind being present personally in one of these demonstrations, so that
• 27:00
  your own trained powers of observation may throw a light upon the things that have
• 27:03
  puzzled me. The challenger was enormously open to flattery. He plumed and preened
• 27:10
  himself. Now like some great bird, If my dear Malone, I can
• 27:15
  help you to get out of this taint, which I called microbus spiritual inness,
• 27:19
  out of your system, I am at your service. I shall be
• 27:22
  happy to devote a little of my spare time to exposing these specious fallacies to
• 27:26
  which you have fallen so easy a victim. I would not say you are
• 27:32
  entirely devoid of brains, but that your good nature is liable to be imposed
• 27:36
  upon. I warn you that I shall be an exacting inquirer and bring to
• 27:41
  the investigation those laboratory methods of which it is generally admitted that I am a
• 27:45
  master, that is what I desire. Then you will prepare the occasion and
• 27:49
  I shall be there. But meanwhile you will clearly understand that I insist upon
• 27:55
  a promise that this connection with my daughter shall go no further. Malone hesitated.
• 28:00
  I give my promise for six months, he said, at last,
• 28:04
  and what will you do at the end of that time. I will decide
• 28:07
  when the time comes. Malone answered diplomatically, and so escaped from a dangerous
• 28:14
  situation with more credit than at one time. Seemed probable. A chance that,
• 28:18
  as he emerged upon the landing, Enid, who had been engaged in
• 28:22
  her morning's shopping, appeared in the lift. Malone's easy Irish conscience allowed him
• 28:27
  to think that the six months need not start on the instant, so he
• 28:32
  persuaded Enid to descend in the lift with him. Is one of those lifts
• 28:36
  which are handled by whoever uses them, And on this occasion it so happened
• 28:40
  that, in some way best known to Malone, it stuck between the landing
• 28:44
  stages, and in spite of several impatient rings that remained stuck for a good
• 28:48
  quarter of an hour. When the machinery resumed its functions, and when Enid
• 28:52
  was able at last to reach her home and Malone the street, the lovers
• 28:57
  had prepared themselves to wait for six months with every hope of a successful end
• 29:02
  to their experiment. End of Chapter thirteen.