Chapter: CHAPTER XVIII. INQUEST INTO THE TRUE CHARACTER OF THE HERB-DOCTOR.



"Sha'n't see that fellow again in a hurry," remarked an auburn-haired
gentleman, to his neighbor with a hook-nose. "Never knew an operator so
completely unmasked."

"But do you think it the fair thing to unmask an operator that way?"

"Fair? It is right."

"Supposing that at high 'change on the Paris Bourse, Asmodeus should
lounge in, distributing hand-bills, revealing the true thoughts and
designs of all the operators present--would that be the fair thing in
Asmodeus? Or, as Hamlet says, were it 'to consider the thing too
curiously?'"

"We won't go into that. But since you admit the fellow to be a
knave----"

"I don't admit it. Or, if I did, I take it back. Shouldn't wonder if,
after all, he is no knave at all, or, but little of one. What can you
prove against him?"

"I can prove that he makes dupes."

"Many held in honor do the same; and many, not wholly knaves, do it
too."

"How about that last?"

"He is not wholly at heart a knave, I fancy, among whose dupes is
himself. Did you not see our quack friend apply to himself his own
quackery? A fanatic quack; essentially a fool, though effectively a
knave."

Bending over, and looking down between his knees on the floor, the
auburn-haired gentleman meditatively scribbled there awhile with his
cane, then, glancing up, said:

"I can't conceive how you, in anyway, can hold him a fool. How he
talked--so glib, so pat, so well."

"A smart fool always talks well; takes a smart fool to be tonguey."

In much the same strain the discussion continued--the hook-nosed
gentleman talking at large and excellently, with a view of demonstrating
that a smart fool always talks just so. Ere long he talked to such
purpose as almost to convince.

Presently, back came the person of whom the auburn-haired gentleman had
predicted that he would not return. Conspicuous in the door-way he
stood, saying, in a clear voice, "Is the agent of the Seminole Widow and
Orphan Asylum within here?"

No one replied.

"Is there within here any agent or any member of any charitable
institution whatever?"

No one seemed competent to answer, or, no one thought it worth while
to.

"If there be within here any such person, I have in my hand two dollars
for him."

Some interest was manifested.

"I was called away so hurriedly, I forgot this part of my duty. With the
proprietor of the Samaritan Pain Dissuader it is a rule, to devote, on
the spot, to some benevolent purpose, the half of the proceeds of sales.
Eight bottles were disposed of among this company. Hence, four
half-dollars remain to charity. Who, as steward, takes the money?"

One or two pair of feet moved upon the floor, as with a sort of itching;
but nobody rose.

"Does diffidence prevail over duty? If, I say, there be any gentleman,
or any lady, either, here present, who is in any connection with any
charitable institution whatever, let him or her come forward. He or she
happening to have at hand no certificate of such connection, makes no
difference. Not of a suspicious temper, thank God, I shall have
confidence in whoever offers to take the money."

A demure-looking woman, in a dress rather tawdry and rumpled, here drew
her veil well down and rose; but, marking every eye upon her, thought it
advisable, upon the whole, to sit down again.

"Is it to be believed that, in this Christian company, there is no one
charitable person? I mean, no one connected with any charity? Well,
then, is there no object of charity here?"

Upon this, an unhappy-looking woman, in a sort of mourning, neat, but
sadly worn, hid her face behind a meagre bundle, and was heard to sob.
Meantime, as not seeing or hearing her, the herb-doctor again spoke, and
this time not unpathetically:

"Are there none here who feel in need of help, and who, in accepting
such help, would feel that they, in their time, have given or done more
than may ever be given or done to them? Man or woman, is there none such
here?"

The sobs of the woman were more audible, though she strove to repress
them. While nearly every one's attention was bent upon her, a man of the
appearance of a day-laborer, with a white bandage across his face,
concealing the side of the nose, and who, for coolness' sake, had been
sitting in his red-flannel shirt-sleeves, his coat thrown across one
shoulder, the darned cuffs drooping behind--this man shufflingly rose,
and, with a pace that seemed the lingering memento of the lock-step of
convicts, went up for a duly-qualified claimant.

"Poor wounded huzzar!" sighed the herb-doctor, and dropping the money
into the man's clam-shell of a hand turned and departed.

The recipient of the alms was about moving after, when the auburn-haired
gentleman staid him: "Don't be frightened, you; but I want to see those
coins. Yes, yes; good silver, good silver. There, take them again, and
while you are about it, go bandage the rest of yourself behind
something. D'ye hear? Consider yourself, wholly, the scar of a nose, and
be off with yourself."

Being of a forgiving nature, or else from emotion not daring to trust
his voice, the man silently, but not without some precipitancy,
withdrew.

"Strange," said the auburn-haired gentleman, returning to his friend,
"the money was good money."

"Aye, and where your fine knavery now? Knavery to devote the half of
one's receipts to charity? He's a fool I say again."

"Others might call him an original genius."

"Yes, being original in his folly. Genius? His genius is a cracked pate,
and, as this age goes, not much originality about that."

"May he not be knave, fool, and genius altogether?"

"I beg pardon," here said a third person with a gossiping expression who
had been listening, "but you are somewhat puzzled by this man, and well
you may be."

"Do you know anything about him?" asked the hooked-nosed gentleman.

"No, but I suspect him for something."

"Suspicion. We want knowledge."

"Well, suspect first and know next. True knowledge comes but by
suspicion or revelation. That's my maxim."

"And yet," said the auburn-haired gentleman, "since a wise man will keep
even some certainties to himself, much more some suspicions, at least he
will at all events so do till they ripen into knowledge."

"Do you hear that about the wise man?" said the hook-nosed gentleman,
turning upon the new comer. "Now what is it you suspect of this fellow?"

"I shrewdly suspect him," was the eager response, "for one of those
Jesuit emissaries prowling all over our country. The better to
accomplish their secret designs, they assume, at times, I am told, the
most singular masques; sometimes, in appearance, the absurdest."

This, though indeed for some reason causing a droll smile upon the face
of the hook-nosed gentleman, added a third angle to the discussion,
which now became a sort of triangular duel, and ended, at last, with but
a triangular result.

 Two men are discussing the herb-doctor. They disagree over whether it was fair that he was exposed as a fake. One thinks he's a clear charlatan, while the other only accuses him of being a fool. Suddenly, the herb-doctor returns, asking for the man collecting money for the Seminole Widow and Orphan Asylum . The herb-doctor says he always donates half of his sales to charity. There's no response from the crowd. Been there, done that. The herb-doctor keeps offering the money, saying he'll give to anyone connected with another charity, whether they have a certificate to prove it or not, because he trusts them out of the goodness of his heart. People shuffle their feet but don't speak. A woman stands to get the money. The crowd side-eyes her until she sits down. Then the herb-doctor says that anyone in need can just have it. Another woman in clear mourning garb starts weeping, but she doesn't move to get the cash. Eventually, a man with a bandage across his face goes to claim the money. As the man with the bandage heads back to where he was standing, camp-charlatan guy stops him and asks to see the coins. He's surprised that they're real silver. Camp-fool guy is not surprised. Now they disagree over whether this was sincere or whether it was part of another bizarre ploy. A third guy interjects. Giddy for gossip, he says he knows what's up. The crowd asks what's up. New guy says he's a Jesuit roaming the land to confound the public. The other two give the Jesuit a You're a silly old bear smile. Nothing is resolved.

