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The Dream Child
The Dream Child
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THE AUTHOR'S REPLY
THIS Seventh Edition of The Dream Child is guaranty that it has made many friends.
But even among its friends are those who claim that the development of the story implies a certain disregard of those personal responsibilities which are so sternly arrayed in Harmonics of Evolution.
Replying to this comment, the author desires to say:
1. That The Dream Child was but the initial expression of her early contact with the Masters' School.
2. That it necessarily represents the requirements of that dramatic art which must always separate fictitious literature from literal fact.
The Dream Child is to Harmonics of Evolution (published in 1899) and The Great Psychological Crime (just issued) what romantic fiction must always be to exact science and philosophy, but a shadow and reflex, a partial truth.
This little work has, however, a broader foundation than the author's imagination. It has other meanings than a mere contribution to romantic literature. It has other purposes than mere literary entertainment. It has another mission than literary art.
The Great Realities which underlie and overshadow this little romance of two worlds, constitute the theme of Harmonics of Evolution and The Great Psychological Crime (Volumes I and II, of the Harmonic Series). These two later volumes deal with fact, with science, and with a Philosophy of Individual Life which is neither colored nor clouded by the requirements of fictitious literature.
The Dream Child fulfills its mission if it but marks out the path from Romance to Reality and lures the mind of the reader from the half truths of fiction to the whole truths of science and philosophy.
June, 1903. THE AUTHOR.
***
An excerpt from the beginning of:
Chapter I.
DOCTORS AGREE.
"IN the twenty-five years of my study and practice," said the Doctor, "I have never encountered so fascinating a problem." It was while we were passing through the last ladies' ward that my attention had been particularly drawn to a patient, a woman, standing at the window of a charming private apartment, and it was my abrupt inquiry concerning her that had called out the very emphatic statement of the doctor.
Doctor Fred Haynes was my oldest and closest personal friend; we had been college chums and co-workers dining our medical course, and this enduring friendship was a green spot in the lives of two elderly, hardworking men. While Fred had chosen to remain in the East and narrow his practice in the direction of his inclination, I, more venturesome, had drifted west, and even in the great city, had built up a considerable practice, and somewhat of a reputation as a specialist in certain chronic diseases.
The rare visits which my old friend and myself still contrived to pay each other between New York and Chicago, were events of great enjoyment to each, and were invariably spiced with professional discussion and animated debate over the latest expositions and theories pertaining to materia medica.
At the time of which I speak, November, 1889, a convention of medical and scientific gentlemen, held in New York, had given me a capital excuse for granting myself a much needed vacation. Doctor Haynes, a bachelor like myself, was now superintendent of a private hospital for insane, and was devoting his life to the scientific application of his own theories as to the cause and treatment of insanity.
Peculiar and aggravated disorders were his delight, and whatever afforded experiment for preconceived theories or furnished data for new ones, was welcomed to this model institution. The hospital, having been planned and equipped entirely under his supervision, was a well conducted house, and much less resembled a lunatic asylum than a well kept private hotel. When the convention had finally adjourned, I accepted Fred's urgent invitation, became a guest of the hospital, and dismissed for a few days all thought of the home practice.
The first evening of my stay was largely given over to personal reminiscences and mutual accountings of the years intervening since we had met. The next morning, however, falling naturally into the professional habit, I accompanied the doctor on his rounds through the luxuriously furnished wards, and gave myself up to his enthusiastic discussion of his pet hobby, and to professional observation.
I noticed with interest that there was but one strong room, one barred and grated cell: nor were there any ponderous swinging doors or grated gates dividing long, bare corridors, such as rendered the old time asylum hideous. In fact there was none of that stifling prison atmosphere, even yet too common in so-called hospitals for the insane. I was also favorably impressed with the number and the intelligent bearing of the attendants,...
THIS Seventh Edition of The Dream Child is guaranty that it has made many friends.
But even among its friends are those who claim that the development of the story implies a certain disregard of those personal responsibilities which are so sternly arrayed in Harmonics of Evolution.
Replying to this comment, the author desires to say:
1. That The Dream Child was but the initial expression of her early contact with the Masters' School.
2. That it necessarily represents the requirements of that dramatic art which must always separate fictitious literature from literal fact.
The Dream Child is to Harmonics of Evolution (published in 1899) and The Great Psychological Crime (just issued) what romantic fiction must always be to exact science and philosophy, but a shadow and reflex, a partial truth.
This little work has, however, a broader foundation than the author's imagination. It has other meanings than a mere contribution to romantic literature. It has other purposes than mere literary entertainment. It has another mission than literary art.
The Great Realities which underlie and overshadow this little romance of two worlds, constitute the theme of Harmonics of Evolution and The Great Psychological Crime (Volumes I and II, of the Harmonic Series). These two later volumes deal with fact, with science, and with a Philosophy of Individual Life which is neither colored nor clouded by the requirements of fictitious literature.
The Dream Child fulfills its mission if it but marks out the path from Romance to Reality and lures the mind of the reader from the half truths of fiction to the whole truths of science and philosophy.
June, 1903. THE AUTHOR.
***
An excerpt from the beginning of:
Chapter I.
DOCTORS AGREE.
"IN the twenty-five years of my study and practice," said the Doctor, "I have never encountered so fascinating a problem." It was while we were passing through the last ladies' ward that my attention had been particularly drawn to a patient, a woman, standing at the window of a charming private apartment, and it was my abrupt inquiry concerning her that had called out the very emphatic statement of the doctor.
Doctor Fred Haynes was my oldest and closest personal friend; we had been college chums and co-workers dining our medical course, and this enduring friendship was a green spot in the lives of two elderly, hardworking men. While Fred had chosen to remain in the East and narrow his practice in the direction of his inclination, I, more venturesome, had drifted west, and even in the great city, had built up a considerable practice, and somewhat of a reputation as a specialist in certain chronic diseases.
The rare visits which my old friend and myself still contrived to pay each other between New York and Chicago, were events of great enjoyment to each, and were invariably spiced with professional discussion and animated debate over the latest expositions and theories pertaining to materia medica.
At the time of which I speak, November, 1889, a convention of medical and scientific gentlemen, held in New York, had given me a capital excuse for granting myself a much needed vacation. Doctor Haynes, a bachelor like myself, was now superintendent of a private hospital for insane, and was devoting his life to the scientific application of his own theories as to the cause and treatment of insanity.
Peculiar and aggravated disorders were his delight, and whatever afforded experiment for preconceived theories or furnished data for new ones, was welcomed to this model institution. The hospital, having been planned and equipped entirely under his supervision, was a well conducted house, and much less resembled a lunatic asylum than a well kept private hotel. When the convention had finally adjourned, I accepted Fred's urgent invitation, became a guest of the hospital, and dismissed for a few days all thought of the home practice.
The first evening of my stay was largely given over to personal reminiscences and mutual accountings of the years intervening since we had met. The next morning, however, falling naturally into the professional habit, I accompanied the doctor on his rounds through the luxuriously furnished wards, and gave myself up to his enthusiastic discussion of his pet hobby, and to professional observation.
I noticed with interest that there was but one strong room, one barred and grated cell: nor were there any ponderous swinging doors or grated gates dividing long, bare corridors, such as rendered the old time asylum hideous. In fact there was none of that stifling prison atmosphere, even yet too common in so-called hospitals for the insane. I was also favorably impressed with the number and the intelligent bearing of the attendants,...
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