attraction for the learned Professor von Baumgarten as those which
relate to psychology and the ill-defined relations between mind and
matter. A celebrated anatomist, a profound chemist, and one of the first
physiologists in Europe, it was a relief for him to turn from these
subjects and to bring his varied knowledge to bear upon the study of the
soul and the mysterious relationship of spirits. At first, when as a
young man he began to dip into the secrets of mesmerism, his mind seemed
to be wandering in a strange land where all was chaos and darkness, save
that here and there some great unexplainable and disconnected fact
loomed out in front of him. As the years passed, however, and as the
worthy Professor’s stock of knowledge increased, for knowledge begets
knowledge as money bears interest, much which had seemed strange and
unaccountable began to take another shape in his eyes. New trains of
reasoning became familiar to him, and he perceived connecting links
where all had been incomprehensible and startling. By experiments which
extended over twenty years, he obtained a basis of facts upon which it
was his ambition to build up a new exact science which should embrace
mesmerism, spiritualism, and all cognate subjects. In this he was much
helped by his intimate knowledge of the more intricate parts of animal
physiology which treat of nerve currents and the working of the brain;
for Alexis von Baumgarten was Regius Professor of Physiology at the
University of Keinplatz, and had all the resources of the laboratory to
aid him in his profound researches.
Professor von Baumgarten was tall and thin, with a hatchet face and
steel-grey eyes, which were singularly bright and penetrating. Much
thought had furrowed his forehead and contracted his heavy eyebrows, so
that he appeared to wear a perpetual frown, which often misled people as
to his character, for though austere he was tender-hearted. He was
popular among the students, who would gather round him after his
lectures and listen eagerly to his strange theories. Often he would call
for volunteers from amongst them in order to conduct some experiment, so
that eventually there was hardly a lad in the class who had not, at one
time or another, been thrown into a mesmeric trance by his Professor.
Of all these young devotees of science there was none who equalled in
enthusiasm Fritz von Hartmann. It had often seemed strange to his
fellow-students that wild, reckless Fritz, as dashing a young fellow as
ever hailed from the Rhinelands, should devote the time and trouble
which he did in reading up abstruse works and in assisting the Professor
in his strange experiments. The fact was, however, that Fritz was a
knowing and long-headed fellow. Months before he had lost his heart to
young Elise, the blue-eyed, yellow-haired daughter of the lecturer.
Although he had succeeded in learning from her lips that she was not
indifferent to his suit, he had never dared to announce himself to her
family as a formal suitor. Hence he would have found it a difficult
matter to see his young lady had he not adopted the expedient of making
himself useful to the Professor. By this means he frequently was asked
to the old man’s house, where he willingly submitted to be experimented
upon in any way as long as there was a chance of his receiving one
bright glance from the eyes of Elise or one touch of her little hand.
Young Fritz von Hartmann was a handsome lad enough. There were broad
acres, too, which would descend to him when his father died. To many he
would have seemed an eligible suitor; but Madame frowned upon his
presence in the house, and lectured the Professor at times on his
allowing such a wolf to prowl around their lamb. To tell the truth,
Fritz had an evil name in Keinplatz. Never was there a riot or a duel,
or any other mischief afoot, but the young Rhinelander figured as a
ringleader in it. No one used more free and violent language, no one
drank more, no one played cards more habitually, no one was more idle,
save in the one solitary subject. No wonder, then, that the good Frau
Professorin gathered her Fräulein under her wing, and resented the
attentions of such a _mauvais sujet_. As to the worthy lecturer, he was
too much engrossed by his strange studies to form an opinion upon the
subject one way or the other.
For many years there was one question which had continually obtruded
itself upon his thoughts. All his experiments and his theories turned
upon a single point. A hundred times a day the Professor asked himself
whether it was possible for the human spirit to exist apart from the
body for a time and then to return to it once again. When the
possibility first suggested itself to him his scientific mind had
revolted from it. It clashed too violently with preconceived ideas and
the prejudices of his early training. Gradually, however, as he
proceeded farther and farther along the pathway of original research,
his mind shook off its old fetters and became ready to face any
conclusion which could reconcile the facts. There were many things which
made him believe that it was possible for mind to exist apart from
matter. At last it occurred to him that by a daring and original
experiment the question might be definitely decided.
“It is evident,” he remarked in his celebrated article upon invisible
entities, which appeared in the _Keinplatz wochentliche Medicalschrift_
about this time, and which surprised the whole scientific world--“it is
evident that under certain conditions the soul or mind does separate
itself from the body. In the case of a mesmerised person, the body lies
in a cataleptic condition, but the spirit has left it. Perhaps you reply
that the soul is there, but in a dormant condition. I answer that this
is not so, otherwise how can one account for the condition of
clairvoyance, which has fallen into disrepute through the knavery of
certain scoundrels, but which can easily be shown to be an undoubted
fact. I have been able myself, with a sensitive subject, to obtain an
accurate description of what was going on in another room or another
house. How can such knowledge be accounted for on any hypothesis save
that the soul of the subject has left the body and is wandering through
space? For a moment it is recalled by the voice of the operator and says
what it has seen, and then wings its way once more through the air.
Since the spirit is by its very nature invisible, we cannot see these
comings and goings, but we see their effect in the body of the subject,
now rigid and inert, now struggling to narrate impressions which could
never have come to it by natural means. There is only one way which I
can see by which the fact can be demonstrated. Although we in the flesh
are unable to see these spirits, yet our own spirits, could we separate
them from the body, would be conscious of the presence of others. It is
my intention, therefore, shortly to mesmerise one of my pupils. I shall
then mesmerise myself in a manner which has become easy to me. After
that, if my theory holds good, my spirit will have no difficulty in
meeting and communing with the spirit of my pupil, both being separated
from the body. I hope to be able to communicate the result of this
interesting experiment in an early number of the _Keinplatz wochenliche
Medicalschrift_.”
When the good Professor finally fulfilled his promise, and published an
account of what occurred, the narrative was so extraordinary that it was
received with general incredulity. The tone of some of the papers was so
offensive in their comments upon the matter that the angry savant
declared that he would never open his mouth again, or refer to the
subject in any way--a promise which he has faithfully kept. This
narrative has been compiled, however, from the most authentic sources,
and the events cited in it may be relied upon as substantially correct.
It happened, then, that shortly after the time when Professor von
Baumgarten conceived the idea of the above-mentioned experiment, he was
walking thoughtfully homewards after a long day in the laboratory, when
he met a crowd of roystering students who had just streamed out from a
beer-house. At the head of them, half-intoxicated and very noisy, was
young Fritz von Hartmann. The Professor would have passed them, but his
pupil ran across and intercepted him.
“Heh! my worthy master,” he said, taking the old man by the sleeve, and
leading him down the road with him. “There is something that I have to
say to you, and it is easier for me to say it now, when the good beer is
humming in my head, than at another time.”
“What is it, then, Fritz?” the physiologist asked, looking at him in
mild surprise.
“I hear, mein Herr, that you are about to do some wondrous experiment in
which you hope to take a man’s soul out of his body, and then to put it
back again. Is it not so?”
“It is true, Fritz.”
“And have you considered, my dear sir, that you may have some difficulty
in finding some one on whom to try this? Potztausend! Suppose that the
soul went out and would not come back. That would be a bad business. Who
is to take the risk?”
“But, Fritz,” the Professor cried, very much startled by this view of
the matter, “I had relied upon your assistance in the attempt. Surely
you will not desert me. Consider the honour and glory.”
“Consider the fiddlesticks!” the student cried angrily. “Am I to be paid
always thus? Did I not stand two hours upon a glass insulator while you
poured electricity into my body? Have you not stimulated my phrenic
nerves, besides ruining my digestion with a galvanic current round my
stomach? Four-and-thirty times you have mesmerised me, and what have I
got from all this? Nothing. And now you wish to take my soul out, as you
would take the works from a watch. It is more than flesh and blood can
stand.”
“Dear, dear!” the Professor cried in great distress. “That is very true,
Fritz. I never thought of it before. If you can but suggest how I can
compensate you, you will find me ready and willing.”
“Then listen,” said Fritz solemnly. “If you will pledge your word that
after this experiment I may have the hand of your daughter, then I am
willing to assist you; but if not, I shall have nothing to do with it.
These are my only terms.”
“And what would my daughter say to this?” the Professor exclaimed, after
a pause of astonishment.
“Elise would welcome it,” the young man replied. “We have loved each
other long.”
“Then she shall be yours,” the physiologist said with decision, “for you
are a good-hearted young man, and one of the best neurotic subjects that
I have ever known--that is when you are not under the influence of
alcohol. My experiment is to be performed upon the fourth of next month.
You will attend at the physiological laboratory at twelve o’clock. It
will be a great occasion, Fritz. Von Gruben is coming from Jena, and
Hinterstein from Basle. The chief men of science of all South Germany
will be there.”
“I shall be punctual,” the student said briefly; and so the two parted.
The Professor plodded homeward, thinking of the great coming event,
while the young man staggered along after his noisy companions, with
his mind full of the blue-eyed Elise, and of the bargain which he had
concluded with her father.
The Professor did not exaggerate when he spoke of the widespread
interest excited by his novel psychological experiment. Long before the
hour had arrived the room was filled by a galaxy of talent. Besides the
celebrities whom he had mentioned, there had come from London the great
Professor Lurcher, who had just established his reputation by a
remarkable treatise upon cerebral centres. Several great lights of the
Spiritualistic body had also come a long distance to be present, as had
a Swedenborgian minister, who considered that the proceedings might
throw some light upon the doctrines of the Rosy Cross.
There was considerable applause from this eminent assembly upon the
appearance of Professor von Baumgarten and his subject upon the
platform. The lecturer, in a few well-chosen words, explained what his
views were, and how he proposed to test them. “I hold,” he said, “that
when a person is under the influence of mesmerism, his spirit is for the
time released from his body, and I challenge any one to put forward any
other hypothesis which will account for the fact of clairvoyance. I
therefore hope that upon mesmerising my young friend here, and then
putting myself into a trance, our spirits may be able to commune
together, though our bodies lie still and inert. After a time nature
will resume her sway, our spirits will return into our respective
bodies, and all will be as before. With your kind permission, we shall
now proceed to attempt the experiment.”
The applause was renewed at this speech, and the audience settled down
in expectant silence. With a few rapid passes the Professor mesmerised
the young man, who sank back in his chair, pale and rigid. He then took
a bright globe of glass from his pocket, and by concentrating his gaze
upon it and making a strong mental effort, he succeeded in throwing
himself into the same condition. It was a strange and impressive sight
to see the old man and the young sitting together in the same cataleptic
condition. Whither, then, had their souls fled? That was the question
which presented itself to each and every one of the spectators.
Five minutes passed, and then ten, and then fifteen, and then fifteen
more, while the Professor and his pupil sat stiff and stark upon the
platform. During that time not a sound was heard from the assembled
savants, but every eye was bent upon the two pale faces, in search of
the first signs of returning consciousness. Nearly an hour had elapsed
before the patient watchers were rewarded. A faint flush came back to
the cheeks of Professor von Baumgarten. The soul was coming back once
more to its earthly tenement. Suddenly he stretched out his long thin
arms, as one awaking from sleep, and rubbing his eyes, stood up from his
chair and gazed about him as though he hardly realised where he was.
“Tausend Teufel!” he exclaimed, rapping out a tremendous South German
oath, to the great astonishment of his audience and to the disgust of
the Swedenborgian. “Where the Henker am I then, and what in thunder has
occurred? Oh yes, I remember now. One of these nonsensical mesmeric
experiments. There is no result this time, for I remember nothing at all
since I became unconscious; so you have had all your long journeys for
nothing, my learned friends, and a very good joke too”; at which the
Regius Professor of Physiology burst into a roar of laughter and slapped
his thigh in a highly indecorous fashion. The audience were so enraged
at this unseemly behaviour on the part of their host, that there might
have been a considerable disturbance, had it not been for the judicious
interference of young Fritz von Hartmann, who had now recovered from his
lethargy. Stepping to the front of the platform, the young man
apologised for the conduct of his companion. “I am sorry to say,” he
said, “that he is a harum-scarum sort of fellow, although he appeared so
grave at the commencement of this experiment. He is still suffering from
mesmeric reaction, and is hardly accountable for his words. As to the
experiment itself, I do not consider it to be a failure. It is very
possible that our spirits may have been communing in space during this
hour; but, unfortunately, our gross bodily memory is distinct from our
spirit, and we cannot recall what has occurred. My energies shall now be
devoted to devising some means by which spirits may be able to recollect
what occurs to them in their free state, and I trust that when I have
worked this out, I may have the pleasure of meeting you all once again
in this hall, and demonstrating to you the result.” This address, coming
from so young a student, caused considerable astonishment among the
audience, and some were inclined to be offended, thinking that he
assumed rather too much importance. The majority, however, looked upon
him as a young man of great promise, and many comparisons were made as
they left the hall between his dignified conduct and the levity of his
professor, who during the above remarks was laughing heartily in a
corner, by no means abashed at the failure of the experiment.
Now although all these learned men were filing out of the lecture-room
under the impression that they had seen nothing of note, as a matter of
fact one of the most wonderful things in the whole history of the world
had just occurred before their very eyes. Professor von Baumgarten had
been so far correct in his theory that both his spirit and that of his
pupil had been for a time absent from the body. But here a strange and
unforeseen complication had occurred. In their return the spirit of
Fritz von Hartmann had entered into the body of Alexis von Baumgarten,
and that of Alexis von Baumgarten had taken up its abode in the frame of
Fritz von Hartmann. Hence the slang and scurrility which issued from the
lips of the serious Professor, and hence also the weighty words and
grave statements which fell from the careless student. It was an
unprecedented event, yet no one knew of it, least of all those whom it
concerned.
The body of the Professor, feeling conscious suddenly of a great dryness
about the back of the throat, sallied out into the street, still
chuckling to himself over the result of the experiment, for the soul of
Fritz within was reckless at the thought of the bride whom he had won so
easily. His first impulse was to go up to the house and see her, but on
second thought he came to the conclusion that it would be best to stay
away until Madame Baumgarten should be informed by her husband of the
agreement which had been made. He therefore made his way down to the
Grüner Mann, which was one of the favourite trysting-places of the
wilder students, and ran, boisterously waving his cane in the air, into
the little parlour, where sat Spiegle and Müller and half a dozen other
boon companions.
“Ha, ha! my boys,” he shouted. “I knew I should find you here. Drink up,
every one of you, and call for what you like, for I’m going to stand
treat to-day.”
Had the green man who is depicted upon the signpost of that well-known
inn suddenly marched into the room and called for a bottle of wine, the
students could not have been more amazed than they were by this
unexpected entry of their revered professor. They were so astonished
that for a minute or two they glared at him in utter bewilderment
without being able to make any reply to his hearty invitation.
“Donner und Blitzen!” shouted the Professor angrily. “What the deuce is
the matter with you, then? You sit there like a set of stuck pigs
staring at me. What is it then?”
“It is the unexpected honour,” stammered Spiegel, who was in the chair.
“Honour--rubbish!” said the Professor testily. “Do you think that just
because I happen to have been exhibiting mesmerism to a parcel of old
fossils, I am therefore too proud to associate with dear old friends
like you? Come out of that chair, Spiegel, my boy, for I shall preside
now. Beer, or wine, or schnapps, my lads--call for what you like, and
put it all down to me.”
Never was there such an afternoon in the Grüner Mann. The foaming
flagons of lager and the green-necked bottles of Rhenish circulated
merrily. By degrees the students lost their shyness in the presence of
their Professor. As for him, he shouted, he sang, he roared, he balanced
a long tobacco-pipe upon his nose, and offered to run a hundred yards
against any member of the company. The Kellner and the barmaid whispered
to each other outside the door their astonishment at such proceedings on
the part of a Regius Professor of the ancient university of Keinplatz.
They had still more to whisper about afterwards, for the learned man
cracked the Kellner’s crown, and kissed the barmaid behind the kitchen
door.
“Gentlemen,” said the Professor, standing up, albeit somewhat
totteringly, at the end of the table, and balancing his high
old-fashioned wine glass in his bony hand, “I must now explain to you
what is the cause of this festivity.”
“Hear! hear!” roared the students, hammering their beer glasses against
the table; “a speech, a speech!--silence for a speech!”
“The fact is, my friends,” said the Professor, beaming through his
spectacles, “I hope very soon to be married.”
“Married!” cried a student, bolder than the others. “Is Madame dead,
then?”
“Madame who?”
“Why, Madame von Baumgarten, of course.”
“Ha, ha!” laughed the Professor; “I can see, then, that you know all
about my former difficulties. No, she is not dead, but I have reason to
believe that she will not oppose my marriage.”
“That is very accommodating of her,” remarked one of the company.
“In fact,” said the Professor, “I hope that she will now be induced to
aid me in getting a wife. She and I never took to each other very much;
but now I hope all that may be ended, and when I marry she will come and
stay with me.”
“What a happy family!” exclaimed some wag.
“Yes, indeed; and I hope you will come to my wedding, all of you. I
won’t mention names, but here is to my little bride!” and the Professor
waved his glass in the air.
“Here’s to his little bride!” roared the roysterers, with shouts of
laughter. “Here’s her health. Sie soll leben--Hoch!” And so the fun
waxed still more fast and furious, while each young fellow followed the
Professor’s example, and drank a toast to the girl of his heart.
While all this festivity had been going on at the Grüner Mann, a very
different scene had been enacted elsewhere. Young Fritz von Hartmann,
with a solemn face and a reserved manner, had, after the experiment,
consulted and adjusted some mathematical instruments; after which, with
a few peremptory words to the janitor, he had walked out into the street
and wended his way slowly in the direction of the house of the
Professor. As he walked he saw Von Althaus, the professor of anatomy, in
front of him, and quickening his pace he overtook him.
“I say, Von Althaus,” he exclaimed, tapping him on the sleeve, “you were
asking me for some information the other day concerning the middle coat
of the cerebral arteries. Now I find----”
“Donnerwetter!” shouted Von Althaus, who was a peppery old fellow. “What
the deuce do you mean by your impertinence! I’ll have you up before the
Academical Senate for this, sir”; with which threat he turned on his
heel and hurried away. Von Hartmann was much surprised at this
reception. “It’s on account of this failure of my experiment,” he said
to himself, and continued moodily on his way.
Fresh surprises were in store for him, however. He was hurrying along
when he was overtaken by two students. These youths, instead of raising
their caps or showing any other sign of respect, gave a wild whoop of
delight the instant that they saw him, and rushing at him, seized him by
each arm and commenced dragging him along with them.
“Gott in Himmel!” roared Von Hartmann. “What is the meaning of this
unparalleled insult? Where are you taking me?”
“To crack a bottle of wine with us,” said the two students. “Come along!
That is an invitation which you have never refused.”
“I never heard of such insolence in my life!” cried Von Hartmann. “Let
go my arms! I shall certainly have you rusticated for this. Let me go, I
say!” and he kicked furiously at his captors.
“Oh, if you choose to turn ill-tempered, you may go where you like,” the
students said, releasing him. “We can do very well without you.”
“I know you. I’ll pay you out,” said Von Hartmann furiously, and
continued in the direction which he imagined to be his own home, much
incensed at the two episodes which had occurred to him on the way.
Now, Madame von Baumgarten, who was looking out of the window and
wondering why her husband was late for dinner, was considerably
astonished to see the young student come stalking down the road. As
already remarked, she had a great antipathy to him, and if ever he
ventured into the house it was on sufferance, and under the protection
of the Professor. Still more astonished was she, therefore, when she
beheld him undo the wicket-gate and stride up the garden path with the
air of one who is master of the situation. She could hardly believe her
eyes, and hastened to the door with all her maternal instincts up in
arms. From the upper windows the fair Elise had also observed this
daring move upon the part of her lover, and her heart beat quick with
mingled pride and consternation.
“Good day, sir,” Madame von Baumgarten remarked to the intruder, as she
stood in gloomy majesty in the open doorway.
“A very fine day indeed, Martha,” returned the other. “Now, don’t stand
there like a statue of Juno, but bustle about and get the dinner ready,
for I am well-nigh starved.”
“Martha! Dinner!” ejaculated the lady, falling back in astonishment.
“Yes, dinner, Martha, dinner!” howled Von Hartmann, who was becoming
irritable. “Is there anything wonderful in that request when a man has
been out all day? I’ll wait in the dining-room. Anything will do.
Schinken, and sausage, and prunes--any little thing that happens to be
about. There you are, standing staring again. Woman, will you or will
you not stir your legs?”
This last address, delivered with a perfect shriek of rage, had the
effect of sending good Madame von Baumgarten flying along the passage
and through the kitchen, where she locked herself up in the scullery and
went into violent hysterics. In the meantime Von Hartmann strode into
the room and threw himself down upon the sofa in the worst of tempers.
“Elise!” he shouted. “Confound the girl! Elise!”