LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VII, Issue 754, 18 November 1876, Page 3

LITERATURE.

DR. BASILIUS.

Chapter I.

Amoxg the physicians who propagated their wisdom in the city of Batavia some thirty

years ago, was a certain Doctor Basilius, a practitioner of great celebrity. In fact, so renowned was he for his marvellous cures that the ignorant inhabitants of the Islands of Java had at one time whispered about that he trafficked with the Prince of Darkness, who bestowed upon him the power wherewith he effected his wonders. Of course, no rational beings gave credence to such an idle report, and I considered myself worthy of being ranked with them. But to the fact I am about to relate.

My wife had been confined to her bed with some plumonary trouble, which seemed to perplex the doctors I had called in. I had approached the brink of despair, ,and often in my deep grief had I resolved to resort to the skilled doctor; but I was comparatively poor, and I was painfully aware that he required exorbitant fees in return for his miracles, so to speak ; so I saw myself forced to banish from my mind all ideas of applying to him. It was a night in November, 1547. One

of those terrible hurricanes which are peculiar to the seas of India, and which generally make great havoc throughout the Island of Java on the turn of the monsoon, had burst over the city of Batavia. The wind which had only been brisk during the day, began towards six o’clock in the evening to blow in squalls. The sea rose higher and higher, and broke with a roar over the jetty which forms the port.

It was a coalition of all the elements for the destruction of man and his works. Upon this night I sat at the bedside of my sick wife, who was tossing in her slumber, and though nigh crushed with the fatigue consequent on my wakefulness far into the still hours of many consecutive nights, I did not dare to seek repose lest my wife should be in want of my services. As I sat there, gloomy thoughts crowding into my grief-benumbed brain, watching each movement of the dear patent beside me, and listening to the continuous roar of the elements, a chilling sensation came over me. I pictured to myself the terrible death struggles I had often witnessed, and thought of my wife’s possible death as her restlessness increased. The chill continued to creep upon me, until it finally pervaded my whole frame.

With a shudder, I sprang to my feet, and with every thought of my poverty driven far from me, exclaimed, ‘ I shall go to Doctor Basilius. ’

Donning my hat and coat, in an instant I was in the forsaken street and turning my steps in the direction of the lower town, where I knew the doctor resided.

The water streamed down my clothes, branches of trees lashed my face, fragments of roofing struck the ground around me threatening to crush me in their fall. I gave no heed to this, continuing to pick my way as flash upon flash of lightning united heaven and earth by gigantic serpents of fire, clinging to the route at every step, that I should be thrown down or swept away by the furious tempest. I descended to the roadstead, left the jetty on my left, and turning to the right, followed the whole length of the quay. Every moment the sea covered it with

foam. Having reached the extremity of the quay, I stopped a moment, waiting for the lightning to point me out my course further. I had not long to wait. The heavens again opened, and poured down a cascade of flames, which permitted me to descry a narrow path, lost amid brackish puddles I entered the path, proceeded about five minutes longer, and finally paused beiore a low, dismal house, built of bamboo canes. I rapped at the door. There was no answer. Then I endeavoured to force it open, but it resisted me. That the door was fastened surprised me, for in this part of the Island most of the houses havo doors merely through form. I picked up a piece of wood which the hurricane had thrown near me, and struck the door several vigorous blows, whereupon a faint light shone through the interstices of the bamboo cane overhead, and a woman’s voice asked in my own language :

‘ Wie gaat daar 1 ’ (Who goes there 1) ‘ Open ; open quickly,’ I returned, ‘ Who are you, and what do you want ? ’ resumed the voice, still in Dutch. ‘ Open first,’ I cried, vexed and impatient;

1 you must see and hear what kind of weather it is ; it is no weather for parleying through a door.’

‘ I cannot open before knowing what you want; besides, one doesn’t run the streets with good intentions on such a terrible night.’ ‘My intentions are nevertheless harmless,’ I rejoined. ‘My wife is ill and dying, and 1 have come to seek the assistance of Doctor Baailius.’ 1 If such is the case, wait a moment.’ Shortly thereafter the door was opened by the woman and I entered. Having closed the door, she showed me into a small, octangular room, carpeted with fantastically-designed mats, and furnished with a low table and several odd-looking chairs of can. My hostess, who was about fifty years of age, motioned me to a seat, and eyeing me intently, said interrogatively, ‘ You wish to see the doctor?’ ‘ Not only do I wish to see him, but I desire him to accompany me to my home,’ I returned. ‘ Where is your master ? Take me to him at once. ’ ‘ Oh, my dear sir ! do you know what you ask V’ she said, sympathetically. ‘My wife’s life,’ I answered, slowly, ‘ since he alone can preserve it.’ ‘ But are you aware that Doctor Basilius does not answer the beck and call of everybody? lie receives his friends at homo and gives them hygienic counsels, as he says, and makes them pay lor them too. Are you able to pay well ?’ she added. ‘ Alas !’ I cried in despair, ‘ 1 am poor—but I thought—thought that, for humanity sake, the doctor would listen to me.’ ‘Poor, simple-hearted young man,’ returned my interlocutor, ‘ you have only lost your time in coming here. ’ At this moment the loud and deafening found of a gong reverberated through the house. The Dutch woman started at d hastened out through a side-door. Left to myself, I buried my face in my hands, and gave vent to my grief. And my last attempt to save my wife had failed.

So lost was I in my Borrow, that I did not perceive the woman’s return until she touched me gently upon the shoulder. ‘ Return to your home,’ she said ; Dr Basiling will go to your wife,’ I jumped from my seat with joy and began to embrace the speaker,, who looked at me amazed.

1 * You are my guardian angel,’ I cried, •my ' saviour I But how did you induce the doctor ; to listen to my prayer 1 ’ * I told him nothing, absolutely nothing.’ ‘Really?’ ‘ Yes; when I entered his room, trem* bling for fear of being scolded—for he has forbidden me to talk with visitors—he did not turn his eyes from the Calcutta Gazette, which he was reading', but said, “ Tell Eusebe van den Beek that I shall go to hia wife.” ’ *He knows my name !’ I began to believe, in the reports I had heard about his transactions with the devil, ‘He knows everything,’ the woman replied. Since the doctor had promised to go to my wife, I could have no object in remaining where I was; therefore, I took up my hat and moved towards the door. Having reached it, I turned, and, handing the woman a card, said, * This is my address. Since Doctor Basilius has promised to visit me, he must tint know where I live.’ To my surprise the woman refused the card with, ‘ The doctor knows your address already.’ I was about to express my wonder, when the gong sounded again, and even louder than before. At the same time I felt myself pushed violently from the house, and heard the door slam to behind me. Instantly the light was extinguished and all was again wrapped in darkness. For a moment I was paralysed, then, as I recollected my thoughts jmd reflected upon what had just occurred, doubt entered my mind, ‘ Oh!’ I cried, in greater despair than ever, * this is a cruel joke, and, in order to get rid of me, this woman had told me that the doctor would go to my wife. ’ I immediately raised my voice and called to the woman imploringly. But in vain. ‘My God ! my God V I murmured, 4 are so many efforts lost ?’ My cries and shouts increased. Then, as the doctor’s house remained silent, I again picked up the piece of wood I had made use of, and once more attacked the door with it. It proved fruitless. Nothing moved. No - one came. The house appeared forsaken, and had not an echo even for my desperate blows. {To he continued .)