CHAPTER XI

A REMARKABLE CONVERSATION

"Who will absolve you bad Christians? 'Study,' I replied, 'and Knowledge.'"

Conrade Muth in a letter to Peter Eberdach, 1510.

Sempre di verita non è convinto Chi di parole è vinto

Guarini (_Il Pastor Fido_, Act v., Sc. v.)

"I do not doubt the probability of a future life even for a moment. This life is too sad, too incomplete to satisfy our highest aspirations and desires. It is meant to be a struggle to ennoble us. Can that struggle be in vain? I think not! Final perfection, I believe in; a perfection which God has in the end in store for us."--Bismarck.

_Conversations with Prince Bismarck_, by W.B. Richmond, _North American Review_, Sept., 1914.

"At last, gentlemen," said Villebois to his three guests, "we can take our coffee in peace. By the way, professor, I want you to explain why it is that the vast majority of mankind pooh-pooh all spiritualistic phenomena, and declare them to be either fraudulent or impossible?"

"If you will listen to me, gentlemen, I think I can give you an answer, but I warn you it will be a long one.

"In the first place there are very few men in the world who will accept, or even admit a new or unexplained fact. People will only believe in phenomena which are in strict accordance with what they have been accustomed to see or hear. In other words, they have a sort of mental antipathy against believing anything which is not in perfect harmony with known and universally accepted laws. They follow one another like a flock of sheep.

"As a teacher of physics I have rarely found a single one among all my students who possessed an absolutely independent judgment. Nay, I will go further, I have met with only one or two men during the whole course of my career who were capable of recording a new observation or impression without any preconceived notions, or with even a tithe of the accuracy of a photographic camera. People even equipped with all the acumen that a scientific training can give them, absolutely refuse to believe their senses when they see a phenomenon which appears to run contrary to any of the laws of physics which have been instilled into them by their teachers. Even if the phenomena are in accordance with established laws, unless they can be explained, they doubt, or even reject them, and will much sooner believe that they are mistaken, or that their judgment is at fault, than accept the phenomena they have witnessed.

"Take a familiar instance: In the eighteenth century a savant brought a large stone to the Academy of Sciences in France which he declared he had seen fall from the sky. The Academy set him down as a lunatic, and Laplace, one of the members, declared it to be impossible. They all pooh-poohed the fact as ridiculous. There were no stones in the sky--therefore none could tumble down from it. Meteorites, which are merely stones which once belonged to some other planet, rush along through space until they fall into the sphere of the earth's attraction and down they tumble. You will find specimens (some of them a ton or more in weight) in every geological museum in Europe. Now everyone believes in them. I remember well when it was first declared by Röntgen that objects wrapped round with several layers of black paper and enclosed in a thick cardboard or wooden box could be accurately photographed. Scientists laughed at the idea and declared it to be impossible. 'How could light penetrate opaque screens?' they asked. But to-day every hospital in Europe is equipped with an X-ray photographic outfit. If a jar be filled with equal volumes of chlorine and hydrogen gases, so long as it is left in the dark nothing happens, but the moment a beam of light is directed on to it, the contents will explode with a loud report, and hydrochloric acid gas is formed. How? We do not know. Therefore, they say it is impossible. A lump of sugar is dropped into a glass of water. It dissolves. How? We cannot tell you. Hence they say it cannot occur, and we ought to reject these facts as impossible. A human being is formed in a pitch-dark cavity from an egg almost too small to be seen by the naked eye. How? We cannot explain it. Therefore they say we should dismiss the statement as a chimera. Hypnotism, or mesmerism as it is called, was first publicly practised in England seventy years ago by Dr. Braid. His medical brethren not only jeered at him but positively ostracised him, and so persecuted the poor man for what they in their ignorance called quackery and charlatanism, that he became socially and financially ruined. And yet to-day it is practised by hundreds of medical men, and schools of hypnotism have been established both at Nancy and here in Paris which are recognised by all the medical colleges, and yet it lies on the borderland, as it were, of spiritualism and the occult sciences. Spiritualistic phenomena are rejected on precisely the same lines of reasoning. A medium lays his hands on a heavy table. It rises bodily from the ground, or raps in answer to questions, or rocks. It appears to be endowed with life since it acts contrary to the laws of inertia. Therefore it is said that the medium is a fraud, and the phenomenon a mere piece of deception or conjuring. Another medium goes into a trance, and hands are seen to project from his body which we can feel and handle; or a cloud appears which rapidly condenses into a perfect human form identical in all respects with a real person. We can feel and handle it. It walks about the room. Often it can converse with the people in the room. It has ears and eyes and teeth just as we have. If we prick this materialised body, blood flows. We can even photograph it. It is clothed in a garment which we are able to handle with our fingers. We can even cut pieces out of it and examine the texture under the microscope. It is entirely contrary to our experience, therefore it must be due to trickery, or else our senses have deceived us and we have been hypnotised into believing it. Nevertheless these phenomena are attested by hundreds of the most clear-headed and sober-minded observers in the world--members of the academy or royal societies of Europe, physicists, doctors, chemists, astronomers, etc., etc. A fully developed human being takes twenty years to form--a fully developed psychic being only twenty seconds. If the one can be formed in twenty years, why not the other in twenty seconds? It is merely a question of time.

"Until a few years ago, the indestructibility of matter was taught in every university and college as one of the most solidly established of all facts. I remember when I was a student of chemistry," said Delapine, "that the professor carefully weighed a small candle and then burnt it away. He collected the products of combustion and demonstrated that the elements of which the candle was composed were only separated, and recombined again with the oxygen of the air. They weighed exactly the same as the candle (after deducting the oxygen which had united with them during combustion), nothing was lost. Nothing could be destroyed. We were further taught as an indisputable fact that all substances, solid, liquid or gaseous consisted of atoms--the smallest particles of matter which exist, which were indestructible and indivisible--and that there were just as many different kinds of atoms as there were elementary bodies, about eighty kinds in all. The discovery of Radium has swept all these 'facts' to the winds. So far from atoms being the smallest things in existence, they are found to contain, or perhaps consist of 'corpuscles' or 'electrons' as they are now called, which are a hundred million times smaller, and these are merely electrified vortex rings, or forms of energy. Hence matter is merely a form of electricity, and electricity, magnetism, light and heat are only varieties of energy in the form of minute waves induced by electrons which agitate the ether. The world is merely a mass of stored-up Force (energy), and this is derived from the Mind of the Eternal. We always come back to the same thought of Virgil's:--'Mens agitat molem.' Only the two thousand two hundred millionth part of the heat and light which issue from the sun--in other words an inconceivably small fraction of the whole of its energy--ever reaches our earth; and only the one hundred millionth part ever reaches the planets of our solar system. What then becomes of the remaining stupendous energy? Is it dissipated into illimitable space and lost for ever? Not at all. The Eternal Mind makes use of everything, and loses nothing. All this vast amount of heat, light, and electricity which emerges from the sun collects in different parts of the universe, and acts on prodigious swarms of cosmic dust and meteoric matter, converting them into vast nebulous accretions filled with potential energy. These mighty forces ultimately form the parents of fresh solar systems, which in their turn team with life."

"My dear professor," exclaimed Villebois, charmed at his friend's words, "you have certainly given us an entirely new view of the universe. But tell me, are these psychic forces part of the same system?"

"Psychic phenomena," answered Delapine, "and psychic forces are every whit as real as chemical and physical phenomena, and are subject to just the same unalterable laws. To quote a great American poet:--

"The Spirit World around this world of Sense Floats like an atmosphere, and everywhere Wafts through these earthly mists and vapours dense A vital breath of more ethereal air."

"But how are we to be sure that the mediums do not cheat?" asked Riche.

"They all do," replied Delapine, "not always of course, but very frequently. The reasons are two-fold. In the case of paid mediums they naturally are anxious to show something for their money, and if the phenomena do not come off, there is a great inducement for them to cheat if they can do so without being detected, as it is so much less fatiguing than the real thing. Again there is also a great tendency to cheat unconsciously when in the hypnotic condition (as they usually are), and in such cases no blame can be attached to them. Still, many mediums do all they can to help the observers, and many of the phenomena are perfectly genuine, and all good experimenters take care that the mediums are under conditions in which trickery is impossible."

"To me," said Riche, "what you say is perfectly reasonable, but I would like to ask you one question. What is life? When a man dies, will he live again? Is his soul destroyed outright or does it escape unaltered and manifest itself in other surroundings? Is the soul too subtle for the senses to perceive, or is it only seen when it acts through our bodies?"

"I will endeavour to answer your question," said Delapine, "but my knowledge is too limited to give you really satisfactory answers. All attempts to explain life by experiments in the laboratory, by chemistry, or by physics are equally futile. Bastian, Tyndall, Büchner, Stokes, Haeckel, Kelvin, Butler-Burke, Schaefer, and a host of others have essayed to explain life, and all have failed utterly. The hypothesis of Arrhenius that life in the first instance was brought to this planet from some other world by the pressure of radiation, or the theory of Lord Kelvin that the primeval germ travelled here on the back of a meteorite can only be received with an incredulous smile as being more suited for a romance of the Jules Verne type than a topic for serious consideration.

"The relation between life and energy, or between life and electricity or magnetism has never been established. I will even go further, I maintain that no such relation ever will be established. Nor will it ever be possible for the chemist to manufacture life out of any substance be it simple or compound. Life, I contend, is eternal, and consequently uncreated, for what has an end must of necessity have had a beginning. Life seems to be independent of energy, and consequently it will never be manufactured in the laboratory by any process, nor can Nature produce it 'de novo.' All efforts to describe it are futile. We only know that it is a mysterious 'something' which, acting through protoplasm, enables an organised substance or 'body' to overcome inertia and resist decay. The proof that life is akin to mind lies in the fact that as soon as the organized substance is endowed with life, it not only transforms other substances outside its body into its own substance, but it does more--it even exercises a power of selection or choice. It refuses one substance which may be unsuitable to its well being, and accepts another which it prefers for private reasons. In a word it endows the speck of protoplasm which constitutes the organism with a will of its own. It is as if it would say to the organism 'Eritis sicut Deus scientes bonum et malum.' Is not that a proof of mind, eh? One thing is certain, wherever and whenever the conditions are such as to render life possible, life will immediately begin to assert itself, not by any ultra-scientific process, but through the eternal and unchangeable laws by and through which Nature has ever worked."

"Is there any purpose in our being born in a frail body like this?" asked Riche. "In fact why should we have a body at all?"

"According to my view," replied Delapine after a moment's reflection, "the object is to enable a minute particle of the infinite Spirit or Mind, which we call a soul, to be detached from our parent, and become a separate unit. The moment self-consciousness, or the 'ego,' as it is sometimes called, is established during the course of the development of the body, it becomes a thinking soul, and is then endowed with its own individuality modified by countless ancestral traits which it has inherited through an infinitely long series of transformations extending throughout the entire animal kingdom. Only in this way can a fraction of the Eternal Spirit which is passed on from generation to generation become isolated and individualized as a self-conscious immortal entity. And the only conceivable use of the body is to allow of its faculties becoming formed and developed in its 'ego' or 'self.' It is the growth of the body that permits of the soul acquiring the experience, knowledge, and attributes which together contribute to mould and create our human personality, and which form an essential step in the progress of the soul to higher planes of existence.

"These appear to me to be some of the reasons why it is essential that the soul should be clothed in a bodily envelope as a preparation for a higher existence, and as soon as the soul has acquired these qualities, and its vitality has been transmitted to the offspring, the body has no further raison d'etre for existing, and therefore remains a mere useless shell whose future is but to die. We find the same scheme (although I admit it is a very imperfect simile) in the pupa stage of many of the insects, which is the necessary prelude to its emergence as the Imago, or perfect insect.

"Life is so bound up with, and inseparable from Mind, that it is impossible for us in the present state of our knowledge to say whether Life is the product of Mind, or whether Mind is the product of Life. Our knowledge is so limited that we can hardly explain anything. For instance, you may ask me what is light, or electricity, or magnetism, or gravity, or matter even? What originates force or energy? You see how ignorant I am, I cannot even answer the simplest of these questions. You may remember that the great naturalist Ernst Haeckel wrote a book entitled _The Riddles of the Universe_. In that book he attempted to explain these riddles which I have just asked you. These riddles remain exactly as they were before--unanswered."

"But one thing you have not answered yet," interrupted Riche. "Is there any absolute proof that we retain our individuality and self-consciousness after death, or in other words, shall we not only survive death but become aware of the fact."

"All the researches which I and hundreds of other investigators have made, point without a shadow of doubt to a reply in the affirmative," answered Delapine, "and yet, on the other hand, we have no absolute proof that the communications which mediums deliver in a trance really come from those who have died. By absolute proof, I mean proof of the same convincing nature as a demonstration in mathematics or physics. But if you will have a little patience I will afford you all an opportunity of judging for yourselves, gentlemen."

"But how are we to obtain the convincing proof which you seek?" interposed Villebois.

"By experiment, by patient research, and by reflection; not in the realm of physics, for that only deals with material forces, but by employing the utmost care and vigilance to counteract fraud and deception of every kind, and only by the accumulation of evidence shall we find the solution of the problem. There alone is to be found the key which will unlock the door behind which lie at present all these mysteries. Ah," he continued, and his eyes flashed with enthusiasm, "I can see it coming, I feel it in the air. The day of our salvation is drawing near. The Sphinx that has been silent all these centuries is at last beginning to move its lips. All our creeds are dead, and all our old faiths are dying out. A new revelation is at hand in the world of Spiritualism. I am fully convinced that there will be no miracles in the world beyond the grave, any more than there are, or (in my opinion) ever have been in this world, and I am further convinced that we shall have all these questions answered in the future life which I know persists beyond the grave. As the poet says:--

"'There is no death, what seems so is transition, This life of mortal breath is but a suburb of the life Elysian Whose portal we call death.'

"The saying of the ancients, 'Mors janua vitae' (Death is the gate of Life) is a solemn truth which runs like a golden thread through the entire creative fabric. He that loseth his life shall save it, is not a paradox but an eternal fact. 'Follow me,' said the Master, 'and I will point out the way of life. I will lead you through the valley of death to victory.' 'Death ends all' cries a despairing world, but the Spirit throughout the ages answers 'Nay, it ends nothing, for thou, O Nazarene, hast conquered death for evermore.'

"Wonders upon wonders will unfold themselves before us, this world cannot hold our spirits prisoners, and other worlds will become as accessible to us then as the suburbs of this town are at present."

So striking was the personality of the professor, and the conviction which his words carried, that the effect on his hearers was electric, and for a brief space of time each one held his breath.

"Don't you believe in a hell and eternal damnation?" asked Riche, who never believed in anything outside his own profession.

"There is neither hell nor damnation for anyone--there never was, and there never will be," Delapine answered. "The only hell that exists is the one that man creates for himself, and he can create a heaven just as easily as a hell. There are no limitations in the future life. Life was meant to be enjoyed, not endured, both in this world and the next."

"And what is your opinion about it all?" said Riche to Marcel.

"Oh, for my part I agree with the fellow who said that life was just one damn thing after another."

Villebois burst into a hearty laugh, in which he was joined by Delapine.

"I think," said the professor, "that it is about time we woke up our esteemed friend Payot. It is now five minutes to ten. Will you set your watches to agree with mine, and then all three of you go and stand beside his couch while I stay here. Precisely at ten o'clock I will tell him to wake up. But mind it must be distinctly understood, and you must promise me, that you will do nothing except carefully look at your watches."

All three left the room and crept quietly up to where Payot lay in a deep sleep, and took their stand around the insensible figure in front of them, each with his watch in his hand.

"Mon Dieu," whispered Marcel to Riche, "this is like 'waking' a corpse, as they say in Ireland. It is positively creepy."

They looked at their watches--it was two minutes to the hour.

"Well, the old boy is fast enough asleep now at any-rate," said Riche in a half whisper. "I wonder whether Delapine will be able to do it? Hadn't we better rouse him up?" and as he spoke he leaned over the prostrate figure.

"No, for God's sake, no," said Villebois in a hoarse whisper. "Remember what Delapine said, and our promise not to touch him."

Silently the three men stood round the couch watching the second hands of their time-pieces rotating in the little circles.

"Half a minute yet," whispered Villebois. Twenty seconds. Fifteen seconds. The suspense was beginning to tell upon their nerves. The silence in the large room was so great that even the ticking of the watches could be heard in the furthest corner.

Ten seconds. Five seconds. Two seconds. And then--the financier gave a violent sneeze. One second and he opened his eyes. A moment later and all the watches pointed exactly to the hour. Ten o'clock had at last arrived.

Payot sat up on the couch and stared round him.

"Where am I?" he exclaimed. "What are you gentlemen doing here, you, Villebois, and you, Riche? Tell me what does it all mean, and what am I doing here? I cannot remember anything; have I been ill, or what has happened?"

"Oh, no, my dear sir," replied Villebois, "you are quite well. Don't you remember you said that you felt sleepy. You must have had a little too much wine, which no doubt made you drowsy, eh?"

"Hullo, Marcel, you there too. Give me your hand. My dear fellow I am delighted to meet you again," said Payot. "I suppose I must have supped a little too freely," he continued; "I remember having dinner--a very good one it was, Villebois, but what happened afterwards I have not the remotest recollection. Well, anyhow, I feel quite refreshed. If you do not mind, I will get ready to come downstairs."

The three watchers then left after shaking hands with him, and returned to the library.

"Well," said Delapine, "and did our friend wake up?"

"Precisely on the stroke of ten," they all replied together.

"And did he say anything to you, Marcel?"

"Oh, he shook me by the hand and said he was delighted to meet me again."

"Did he refer in any way to his fight with you?"

"Not one word on the subject, professor. I am perfectly convinced that he has not the slightest idea that he ever had a quarrel with me."

"This is perfectly incomprehensible," said Riche. "'Pon my word, Delapine, you make me afraid of you."

A moment later Payot, looking none the worse for his enforced sleep, entered the room.

"Hullo, here you all are," he cried. "I have just been looking for you. And pray, where is madame?" he continued, as he sat down, while Villebois handed him a liqueur.

"My wife had a bad headache and retired to bed," said Villebois, "and Céleste went to look after her with a plentiful supply of vinaigre and smelling salts."

"And Renée?"

"Oh, Renée, I don't know where she is. I think she has gone to practice some music."

"My dear Marcel, what is the matter with your eye?" said Payot. "It looks as if you had received a blow there. You have not been fighting with anyone surely?"

"Oh dear, no. As a matter of fact I slipped as I was going down the steps of the house and struck my eye against the corner of the balustrade."

"I hope it is nothing serious, my dear Marcel? It is your duty to see to him, Villebois, these little accidents sometimes become serious. Anyhow, you could not be in better hands than under the care of my excellent friend here. I would not have been the cause of this accident for worlds, is that not so, my good friend Marcel? I only wish I could have been in time to prevent it."

Marcel looked up at Riche, who winked significantly.

"He will be all right to-morrow morning," said Villebois.

"I remember once when I was a young man in the army," Payot remarked, "a rude fellow stood in my way as I was walking along the pavement with a young lady on my arm. I promptly hit him on the head with my stick, when he replied by giving me a terrible black eye with his fist. I ran after him, but the rascal was too quick for me, and he escaped. I had arranged to go to a fancy dress ball that night, attired as Romeo, and I had the costume specially made for me. Of course the costume had to be discarded, as I could not very well appear as a Romeo with a black eye. So what do you think I did? I got the costumier to white-wash my face all over, and dress me up as a pierrot. And a very handsome pierrot I made, I assure you. Ah! I was an uncommonly fine fellow in those days. Hullo," he added, looking at his watch, "Good gracious me, it is past ten. What have you three been doing since dinner?"

"Oh, we have been entertained by the professor," said Marcel, smiling in spite of himself. "He has been giving us a discourse on spiritualism."

"Ah, most interesting, most instructive I am sure," replied Payot. "M. Delapine knows the immense interest I take in those things. You know I have always maintained there is a great deal of truth in it, haven't I, Marcel?"

"Oh, Lord, deliver us," said Marcel aside to Riche. "Melted butter isn't in it. I wonder what he'll say next. My word, isn't he coming round. Surely he's growing dotty," and Marcel screwed his monocle into his left eye and gazed at old Payot with a dubious smile.

"Don't you remember Delapine's words when he hypnotised him?" asked Riche in a whisper.

"Oh yes, of course I do. How very extraordinary! Everything Delapine says seems to come true to the letter. Well, who would have thought it," and then he added sotto voce, "It beats Alice in Wonderland."

Delapine shut his eyes and placed his finger-tips together.

"What are you thinking of, my dear professor?" asked Villebois.

"Capital, capital," replied Delapine, rousing himself at the question and smiling with great satisfaction. "This is better than I expected. We shall have a great séance to-morrow--a great séance. Now I am sure of success," he continued as he watched the mental transformation of Payot. "The only discord I feared is removed. Harmony will prevail."

"Will you take some more whisky, professor?" asked Villebois.

"No, thanks, I am rather tired."

"I shall 'whisky' to bed," interposed Marcel. "If I don't lie down, I shall soon have to lie up," he added with a laugh. "I feel bruised all over, like a cake of dough that has been pounded with a rolling-pin."

Payot looked at him in astonishment, wondering what he referred to, and turned to Villebois for an explanation.

"Oh, don't pay any attention to Marcel. I think at times he does not know himself what he means. You see," he added, "poets are quite different from ordinary mortals like us."

"That is why they require a licence, I suppose," said Riche. "We only hesitate to believe him when he is speaking the truth."

"You are very unkind to rob a poor poet of his character," said Marcel.

"Impossible in your case," said Riche laughing. "You have none to lose."

"Upon my soul, you will be trying to rob me of my shadow next."

"Then we shall begin to believe you without the shadow of a doubt."

"Well, gentlemen, what do you say to our all going to bed?" asked Villebois. "Good-night, Monsieur Payot, and may fortune smile on to-morrow's séance. And now, my dear professor," he continued, turning to Delapine, "I am sure that you will need a good rest before you start your task of calling up the spirits from the vasty deep."

"Upon my word, I am almost afraid to go to bed," said Marcel, as they passed upstairs to their rooms which were next to each other. "I shall be dreaming of ghosts and goblins all night, and imagining that I see the portraits walking out of their frames."

"Believe me you will see more wonderful things than that, my boy, before you are a day older," said Villebois as he shook hands with him.