The Poet at the Breakfast-TableHolmes, Oliver Wendell
General
The Poet at the Breakfast-Table
Holmes, Oliver Wendell
American fiction -- 19th century; Conversation -- Fiction; Poetry
--One thousand diameters,--he said, as he placed it on the stage of the
microscope.--We shall find signs of life, of course.--He bent over the
instrument and looked but an instant.
--There they are!--he exclaimed,--look in.
I looked in and saw some objects:
The straight linear bodies were darting backward and forward in every
direction. The wavy ones were wriggling about like eels or water-snakes.
The round ones were spinning on their axes and rolling in every
direction. All of them were in a state of incessant activity, as if
perpetually seeking something and never finding it.
They are tough, the germs of these little bodies, said the Master.
--Three hours' boiling has n't killed 'em. Now, then, let us see what
has been the effect of six hours' boiling.
He took up another flask just like the first, containing fluid and
hermetically sealed in the same way.
--Boiled just three hours longer than the other, he said,--six hours in
all. This is the experimentum crucis. Do you see any cloudiness in it?
--Not a sign of it; it is as clear as crystal, except that there may be
a little sediment at the bottom.
--That is nothing. The liquid is clear. We shall find no signs of
life.--He put a minute drop of the liquid under the microscope as
before. Nothing stirred. Nothing to be seen but a clear circle of light.
We looked at it again and again, but with the same result.
--Six hours kill 'em all, according to this experiment,--said the
Master.--Good as far as it goes. One more negative result. Do you know
what would have happened if that liquid had been clouded, and we had
found life in the sealed flask? Sir, if that liquid had held life in it
the Vatican would have trembled to hear it, and there would have been
anxious questionings and ominous whisperings in the halls of Lambeth
palace! The accepted cosmogonies on trial, sir!
Traditions, sanctities, creeds, ecclesiastical establishments, all
shaking to know whether my little sixpenny flask of fluid looks muddy
or not! I don't know whether to laugh or shudder. The thought of an
oecumenical council having its leading feature dislocated by my trifling
experiment! The thought, again, of the mighty revolution in human
beliefs and affairs that might grow out of the same insignificant little
phenomenon. A wine-glassful of clear liquid growing muddy. If we had
found a wriggle, or a zigzag, or a shoot from one side to the other, in
this last flask, what a scare there would have been, to be sure, in
the schools of the prophets! Talk about your megatherium and your
megalosaurus,--what are these to the bacterium and the vibrio? These are
the dreadful monsters of today. If they show themselves where they have
no business, the little rascals frighten honest folks worse than ever
people were frightened by the Dragon of Rhodes!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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