The Stark Munro Letters: Being series of twelve letters written by J. Stark Munro, M.B., to his friend and former fellow-student, Herbert Swanborough, of Lowell, Massachusetts, during the years 1881-1884Doyle, Arthur Conan
General
The Stark Munro Letters: Being series of twelve letters written by J. Stark Munro, M.B., to his friend and former fellow-student, Herbert Swanborough, of Lowell, Massachusetts, during the years 1881-1884
Doyle, Arthur Conan
Epistolary fiction
It seems to me that the study of life by the physician vindicates the
moral principles of right and wrong. But when you look closely it is a
question whether that which is a wrong to the present community may not
prove to have been a right to the interests of posterity. That sounds
a little foggy; but I will make my meaning more clear when I say that
I think right and wrong are both tools which are being wielded by those
great hands which are shaping the destinies of the universe, that both
are making for improvement; but that the action of the one is immediate,
and that of the other more slow, but none the less certain. Our own
distinction of right and wrong is founded too much upon the immediate
convenience of the community, and does not inquire sufficiently deeply
into the ultimate effect.
I have my own views about Nature’s methods, though I feel that it is
rather like a beetle giving his opinions upon the milky way. However,
they have the merit of being consoling; for if we could conscientiously
see that sin served a purpose, and a good one, it would take some of the
blackness out of life. It seems to me, then, that Nature, still working
on the lines of evolution, strengthens the race in two ways. The one is
by improving those who are morally strong, which is done by increased
knowledge and broadening religious views; the other, and hardly less
important, is by the killing off and extinction of those who are morally
weak. This is accomplished by drink and immorality. These are really two
of the most important forces which work for the ultimate perfection of
the race. I picture them as two great invisible hands hovering over the
garden of life and plucking up the weeds. Looked at in one’s own day,
one can only see that they produce degradation and misery. But at the
end of a third generation from then, what has happened? The line of the
drunkard and of the debauchee, physically as well as morally weakened,
is either extinct or on the way towards it. Struma, tubercle, nervous
disease, have all lent a hand towards the pruning off of that rotten
branch, and the average of the race is thereby improved. I believe from
the little that I have seen of life, that it is a law which acts with
startling swiftness, that a majority of drunkards never perpetuate
their species at all, and that when the curse is hereditary, the second
generation generally sees the end of it.
Don’t misunderstand me, and quote me as saying that it is a good thing
for a nation that it should have many drunkards. Nothing of the kind.
What I say is, that if a nation has many morally weak people, then it
is good that there should be a means for checking those weaker strains.
Nature has her devices, and drink is among them. When there are no more
drunkards and reprobates, it means that the race is so advanced that it
no longer needs such rough treatment. Then the all-wise Engineer will
speed us along in some other fashion.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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