THERE ARE HEIGHTS AND THERE ARE DEPTHS
The Institut Métapsychique was an imposing stone building in the Avenue
Wagram with a door like a baronial castle. Here it was that the three
friends presented themselves late in the evening. A footman showed them
into a reception-room where they were presently welcomed by Dr. Maupuis
in person. The famous authority on psychic science was a short broad man
with a large head, a clean-shaven face, and an expression in which
worldly wisdom and kindly altruism were blended. His conversation was in
French with Mailey and Roxton, who both spoke the language well, but he
had to fall back upon broken English with Malone, who could only utter
still more broken French in reply. He expressed his pleasure at their
visit, as only a graceful Frenchman can, said a few words as to the
wonderful qualities of Panbek, the Galician medium, and finally led the
way downstairs to the room in which the experiments were to be
conducted. His air of vivid intelligence and penetrating sagacity had
already shown the strangers how preposterous were those theories which
tried to explain away his wonderful results by the supposition that he
was a man who was the easy victim of impostors.
Descending a winding stair they found themselves in a large chamber
which looked at first glance like a chemical laboratory, for shelves
full of bottles, retorts, test-tubes, scales and other apparatus lined
the walls. It was more elegantly furnished, however, than a mere
workshop, and a large massive oak table occupied the centre of the room
with a fringe of comfortable chairs. At one end of the room was a large
portrait of Professor Crookes, which was flanked by a second of
Lombroso, while between them was a remarkable picture of one of Eusapia
Palladino’s séances. Round the table there was gathered a group of men
who were talking in low tones, too much absorbed in their own
conversation to take much notice of the newcomers.
“Three of these are distinguished visitors like yourselves,” said Dr.
Maupuis. “Two others are my laboratory assistants, Dr. Sauvage and Dr.
Buisson. The others are Parisians of note. The Press is represented
to-day by Monsieur Forte, sub-editor of the _Matin_. The tall, dark man
who looks like a retired general you probably know.... Not? That is
Professor Charles Richet, our honoured _doyen_, who has shown great
courage in this matter, though he has not quite reached the same
conclusion as you, Monsieur Mailey. But that also may come. You must
remember that we have to show policy, and that the less we mix this with
religion, the less trouble we shall have with the Church, which is still
very powerful in this country. The distinguished-looking man with the
high forehead is the Count de Grammont. The gentleman with the head of a
Jupiter and the white beard is Flammarion, the astronomer. Now,
gentleman,” he added, in a louder voice, “if you will take your places
we shall get to work.”
They sat at random round the long table, the three Britons keeping
together. At one end a large photographic camera was reared aloft. Two
zinc buckets also occupied a prominent position upon a side table. The
door was locked and the key given to Professor Richet. Dr. Maupuis sat
at one end of the table with a small middle-aged man, moustached,
bald-headed and intelligent, upon his right.
“Some of you have not met Monsieur Panbek,” said the doctor. “Permit me
to present him to you. Monsieur Panbek, gentlemen, has placed his
remarkable powers at our disposal for scientific investigation, and we
all owe him a debt of gratitude. He is now in his forty-seventh year, a
man of normal health, of a neuroarthritic disposition. Some
hyper-excitability of his nervous system is indicated, and his reflexes
are exaggerated, but his blood-pressure is normal. The pulse is now at
seventy-two, but rises to one hundred under trance conditions. There are
zones of marked hyper-æsthesia on his limbs. His visual field and
pupillary reaction is normal. I do not know that there is anything to
add.”
“I might say,” remarked Professor Richet, “that the hyper-sensibility is
moral as well as physical. Panbek is impressionable and full of emotion,
with the temperament of the poet and all those little weaknesses, if we
may call them so, which the poet pays as a ransom for his gifts. A great
medium is a great artist and is to be judged by the same standards.”
“He seems to me, gentlemen, to be preparing you for the worst,” said the
medium with a charming smile, while the company laughed in sympathy.
“We are sitting in the hopes that some remarkable materialisations which
we have recently had may be renewed in such a form that we may get a
permanent record of them.” Dr. Maupuis was talking in his dry,
unemotional voice. “These materialisations have taken very unexpected
forms of late, and I would beg the company to repress any feelings of
fear, however strange these forms may be, as a calm and judicial
atmosphere is most necessary. We shall now turn out the white light and
begin with the lowest degree of red light until the conditions will
admit of further illumination.”
The lamps were controlled from Dr. Maupuis’ seat at the table. For a
moment they were plunged in utter darkness. Then a dull red glow came in
the corner, enough to show the dim outlines of the men round the table.
There was no music and no religious atmosphere of any sort. The company
conversed in whispers.
“This is different to your English procedure,” said Malone.
“Very,” Mailey answered. “It seems to me that we are wide open to
anything which may come. It’s all wrong. They don’t realise the danger.”
“What danger can there be?”
“Well, from my point of view, it is like sitting at the edge of a pond
which may have harmless frogs in it, or may have man-eating crocodiles.
You can’t tell what may come.”
Professor Richet, who speaks excellent English, overheard the words.
“I know your views, Mr. Mailey,” said he. “Don’t think that I treat them
lightly. Some things which I have seen make me appreciate your
comparison of the frog and the crocodile. In this very room I have been
conscious of the presence of creatures which could, if moved to anger,
make our experiments seem rather hazardous. I believe with you that evil
people here might bring an evil reflection into our circle.”
“I am glad, sir, that you are moving in our direction,” said Mailey,
for like everyone else he regarded Richet as one of the world’s great
men.
“Moving, perhaps, and yet I cannot claim to be altogether with you yet.
The latent powers of the human incarnate spirit may be so wonderful that
they may extend to regions which seem at present to be quite beyond
their scope. As an old materialist, I fight every inch of the ground,
though I admit that I have lost several lines of trenches. My
illustrious friend Challenger still holds his front intact, as I
understand.”
“Yes, sir,” said Malone, “and yet I have some hopes----”
“Hush!” cried Maupuis in an eager voice.
There was dead silence. Then there came a sound of uneasy movement with
a strange flapping vibration.
“The bird!” said an awestruck whisper.
There was silence and then once again came the sound of movement and an
impatient flap.
“Have you all ready, Réne?” asked the doctor.
“All is ready.”
“Then shoot!”
The flash of the luminant mixture filled the room, while the shutter of
the camera fell. In that sudden glare of light the visitors had a
momentary glimpse of a marvellous sight. The medium lay with his head
upon his hands in apparent insensibility. Upon his rounded shoulders
there was perched a huge bird of prey--a large falcon or an eagle. For
one instant the strange picture was stamped upon their retinas even as
it was upon the photographic plate. Then the darkness closed down again,
save for the two red lamps, like the eyes of some baleful demon lurking
in the corner.
“My word!” gasped Malone. “Did you see it?”
“A crocodile out of the pond,” said Mailey.
“But harmless,” added Professor Richet. “The bird has been with us
several times. He moves his wings, as you have heard, but otherwise is
inert. We may have another and a more dangerous visitor.”
The flash of the light had, of course, dispelled all ectoplasm. It was
necessary to begin again. The company may have sat for a quarter of an
hour when Richet touched Mailey’s arm.
“Do you smell anything, Monsieur Mailey?”
Mailey sniffed the air.
“Yes, surely, it reminds me of our London Zoo.”
“There is another more ordinary analogy. Have you been in a warm room
with a wet dog?”
“Exactly,” said Mailey. “That is a perfect description. But where is the
dog?”
“It is not a dog. Wait a little! Wait!”
The animal smell became more pronounced. It was overpowering. Then
suddenly Malone became conscious of something moving round the table. In
the dim red light he was aware of a mis-shapen figure, crouching,
ill-formed, with some resemblance to man. He silhouetted it against the
dull radiance. It was bulky, broad, with a bullet-head, a short neck,
heavy, clumsy shoulders. It slouched slowly round the circle. Then it
stopped, and a cry of surprise, not unmixed with fear, came from one of
the sitters.
“Do not be alarmed,” said Dr. Maupuis’ quiet voice. “It is the
Pithecanthropus. He is harmless.” Had it been a cat which had strayed
into the room the scientist could not have discussed it more calmly.
“It has long claws. It laid them on my neck,” cried a voice.
“Yes, yes. He means it as a caress.”
“You may have my share of his caresses!” cried the sitter in a quavering
voice.
“Do not repulse him. It might be serious. He is well disposed. But he
has his feelings, no doubt, like the rest of us.”
The creature had resumed its stealthy progress. Now it turned the end of
the table and stood behind the three friends. Its breath came in quick
puffs at the back of their necks. Suddenly Lord Roxton gave a loud
exclamation of disgust.
“Quiet! Quiet!” said Maupuis.
“It’s licking my hand!” cried Roxton.
An instant later Malone was aware of a shaggy head extended between Lord
Roxton and himself. With his left hand he could feel long, coarse hair.
It turned towards him, and it needed all his self-control to hold his
hand still when a long soft tongue caressed it. Then it was gone.
“In heaven’s name, what is it?” he asked.
“We have been asked not to photograph it. Possibly the light would
infuriate it. The command through the medium was definite. We can only
say that it is either an ape-like man or a man-like ape. We have seen it
more clearly than to-night. The face is Simian, but the brow is
straight; the arms long, the hands huge, the body covered with hair.”
“Tom Linden gave us something better than that,” whispered Mailey. He
spoke low but Richet caught the words.
“All nature is the field of our study, Mr. Mailey. It is not for us to
choose. Shall we classify the flowers but neglect the fungi?”
“But you admit it is dangerous.”
“The X-rays were dangerous. How many martyrs lost their arms, joint by
joint, before those dangers were realised. And yet it was necessary. So
it is with us. We do not know yet what it is that we are doing. But if
we can indeed show the world that this Pithecanthropus can come to us
from the Invisible, and depart again as it came, then the knowledge is
so tremendous that even if he tore us to pieces with those formidable
claws, it would none the less be our duty to go forward with our
experiments.”
“Science can be heroic,” said Mailey. “Who can deny it? And yet I have
heard these very scientific men tell us that we imperil our reason when
we try to get in touch with spiritual forces. Gladly would we sacrifice
our reason, or our lives, if we could help mankind. Should we not do as
much for spiritual advance as they for material?”
The lights had been turned up and there was a pause for relaxation
before the great experiment of the evening was attempted. The men broke
into little groups, chatting in hushed tones over their recent
experience. Looking round at the comfortable room with its up-to-date
appliances, the strange bird and the stealthy monster seemed like
dreams. And yet they had been very real, as was shown presently by the
photographer, who had been allowed to leave and now rushed excitedly
from the adjacent dark room waving the plate which he had just developed
and fixed. He held it up against the light, and there, sure enough, was
the bald head of the medium sunk between his hands, and crouching
closely over his shoulders the outline of that ominous figure. Dr.
Maupuis rubbed his little fat hands with glee. Like all pioneers he had
endured much persecution from the Parisian Press, and every fresh
phenomenon was another weapon for his own defence.
“_Nous marchons! Hein! Nous marchons!_” he kept on repeating, while
Richet, lost in thought, answered mechanically:
“_Oui, mon ami, vous marchez!_”
The little Galician was sitting nibbling a biscuit with a glass of red
wine before him. Malone went round to him and found that he had been in
America and could talk a little English.
“Are you tired? Does it exhaust you?”
“In moderation, no. Two sittings a week. Behold my allowance. The doctor
will allow no more.”
“Do you remember anything?”
“It comes to me like dreams. A little here--a little there.”
“Has the power always been with you?”
“Yes, yes, ever since a child. And my father, and my uncle. Their talk
was of visions. For me, I would go and sit in the woods and strange
animals would come round me. It did me such a surprise when I found that
the other children could not see them.”
“_Est ce que vous êtes prêtes?_” asked Dr. Maupuis.
“_Parfaitement_,” answered the medium, brushing away the crumbs. The
doctor lit a spirit-lamp under one of the zinc buckets.
“We are about to co-operate in an experiment, gentlemen, which should,
once and for all, convince the world as to the existence of these
ectoplasmic forms. Their nature may be disputed, but their objectivity
will be beyond doubt from now onwards unless my plans miscarry. I would
first explain these two buckets to you. This one, which I am warming,
contains paraffin, which is now in process of liquefaction. This other
contains water. Those who have not been present before must understand
that Panbek’s phenomena occur usually in the same order, and that at
this stage of the evening we may expect the apparition of the old man.
To-night we lie in wait for the old man, and we shall, I hope,
immortalise him in the history of psychic research. I resume my seat,
and I switch on the red light, Number Three, which allows of greater
visibility.”
The circle was now quite visible. The medium’s head had fallen forward
and his deep snoring showed that he was already in trance. Every face
was turned towards him, for the wonderful process of materialisation was
going on before their very eyes. At first it was a swirl of light,
steam-like vapour which circled round his head. Then there was a waving,
as of white diaphanous drapery, behind him. It thickened. It coalesced.
It hardened in outline and took definite shape. There was a head. There
were shoulders. Arms grew out from them. Yes, there could not be a doubt
of it--there was a man, an old man, standing behind the chair. He moved
his head slowly from side to side. He seemed to be peering in indecision
towards the company. One could imagine that he was asking himself,
“Where am I, and what am I here for?”
“He does not speak, but he hears and has intelligence,” said Dr.
Maupuis, glancing over his shoulder at the apparition. “We are here,
sir, in the hope that you will aid us in a very important experiment.
May we count upon your co-operation?”
The figure bowed its head in assent.
“We thank you. When you have attained your full power, you will, no
doubt, move away from the medium.”
The figure again bowed, but remained motionless. It seemed to Malone
that it was growing denser every moment. He caught glimpses of the face.
It was certainly an old man, heavy-faced, long-nosed, with a curiously
projecting lower lip. Suddenly with a brusque movement it stood clear
from Panbek and stepped out into the room.
“Now, sir,” said Maupuis in his precise fashion. “You will perceive the
zinc bucket upon the left. I would beg you to have the kindness to
approach it and to plunge your right hand into it.”
The figure moved across. He seemed interested in the buckets, for he
examined them with some attention. Then he dipped one of his hands into
that which the doctor had indicated.
“Excellent!” cried Maupuis, his voice shrill with excitement. “Now, sir,
might I ask you to have the kindness to dip the same hand into the cold
water of the other bucket.”
The form did so.
“Now, sir, you would bring our experiment to complete success if you
would lay your hand upon the table, and while it is resting there you
would yourself dematerialise and return into the medium.”
The figure bowed its comprehension and assent. Then it slowly advanced
towards the table, stooped over it, extended its hand--and vanished. The
heavy breathing of the medium ceased, and he moved uneasily as if about
to wake. Maupuis turned on the white light, and threw up his hands with
a loud cry of wonder and joy which was echoed by the company.
On the shining wooden surface of the table there lay a delicate
yellow-pink glove of paraffin, broad at the knuckles, thin at the wrist,
two of the fingers bent down to the palm. Maupuis was beside himself
with delight. He broke off a small bit of wax from the wrist and handed
it to an assistant, who hurried from the room.
“It is final!” he cried. “What can they say now? Gentlemen, I appeal to
you. You have seen what occurred. Can any of you give any rational
explanation of that paraffin mould, save that it was the result of
dematerialisation of the hand within it?”
“I can see no other solution,” Richet answered. “But you have to do with
very obstinate and very prejudiced people. If they cannot deny it, they
will probably ignore it.”
“The Press is here and the Press represents the public,” said Maupuis.
“For the Press Engleesh, Monsieur Malone,” he went on in his broken way.
“Is it that you can see any answer?”
“I can see none,” Malone answered.
“And you, monsieur?” addressing the representative of the _Matin_.
The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders.
“For us who had the privilege of being present it was indeed
convincing,” said he, “and yet you will certainly be met with
objections. They will not realise how fragile this thing is. They will
say that the medium brought it on his person and laid it upon the
table.”
Maupuis clapped his hands triumphantly. His assistant had just brought
him a slip of paper from the next room.
“Your objection is already answered,” he cried, waving the paper in the
air. “I had foreseen it and I had put some cholesterine among the
paraffin in the zinc pail. You may have observed that I broke off a
corner of the mould. It was for purpose of chemical analysis. This has
now been done. It is here and cholesterine has been detected.”
“Excellent!” said the French journalist. “You have closed the last hole.
But what next?”
“What we have done once we can do again,” Maupuis answered. “I will
prepare a number of these moulds. In some cases I will have fists and
hands. Then I will have plaster casts made from them. I will run the
plaster inside the mould. It is delicate, but it can be done. I will
have dozens of them so created, and I will send them broadcast to every
capital in the world that people may see with their own eyes. Will that
not at last convince them of the reality of our conclusions?”
“Do not hope for too much, my poor friend,” said Richet, with his hand
upon the shoulder of the enthusiast. “You have not yet realised the
enormous _vis inertiæ_ of the world. But as you have said, ‘_Vous
marchez--vous marchez toujours_.’”
“And our march is regulated,” said Mailey. “There is a gradual release
to accommodate it to the receptivity of mankind.”
Richet smiled and shook his head.
“Always transcendental, Monsieur Mailey! Always seeing more than meets
the eye and changing science into philosophy! I fear you are
incorrigible. Is your position reasonable?”
“Professor Richet,” said Mailey, very earnestly, “I would beg you to
answer the same question. I have a deep respect for your talents and
complete sympathy with your caution, but have you not come to the
dividing of the ways? You are now in the position that you admit--you
must admit--that our intelligent apparition in human form, built up from
the substance which you have yourself named ectoplasm, can walk the room
and carry out instructions while the medium lay senseless under our
eyes, and yet you hesitate to assert that spirit has an independent
existence. Is that reasonable?”
Richet smiled and shook his head. Without answering, he turned to bid
farewell to Dr. Maupuis, and to offer him his congratulations. A few
minutes later the company had broken up and our friends were in a taxi
speeding towards their hotel.
Malone was deeply impressed with what he had seen, and he sat up half
the night drawing up a full account of it for the Central News, with the
names of those who had endorsed the results--honourable names which no
one in the world could associate with folly or deception.
“Surely, surely, this will be a turning-point and an epoch.” So ran his
dream. Two days later he opened the great London dailies one after the
other. Columns about football. Columns about golf. A full page as to the
value of shares. A long and earnest correspondence in _The Times_ about
the habits of the lapwing. Not one word in any of them as to the wonders
which he had seen and reported. Mailey laughed at his dejected face.
“A mad world, my masters,” said he. “A crazy world! But the end is not
yet!”[D]