FOOTNOTES:[2]The Beryl, and especially this particular shade of Beryl was greatly prized by the ancient magicians for its supposed virtues in assisting the crystal gazer.[3]Chénier 'Promenade.'
FOOTNOTES:
[2]The Beryl, and especially this particular shade of Beryl was greatly prized by the ancient magicians for its supposed virtues in assisting the crystal gazer.
[2]The Beryl, and especially this particular shade of Beryl was greatly prized by the ancient magicians for its supposed virtues in assisting the crystal gazer.
[3]Chénier 'Promenade.'
[3]Chénier 'Promenade.'
CHAPTER II
THE DINNER AT THE VILLEBOIS' HOUSE
Ce qu'il y a de plus beau dans la vie c'est les illusions de la vie.Balzac,Physiologie du Marriage, Med. iv.
Since Eve ate apples much depends on dinner.Byron,Don Juan, Cant. viii.
Wine whets the wit, improves its native force,And gives a pleasant flavour to discourse.Pomfret(The Choice.)
"Allons, allons," said Madame Villebois, "we can discuss all about dress while we are having our dinner, although I really think that people in these days give too much attention to both dress and eating."
"Ah, no, madame, permit me to disagree," said Marcel, smiling. "It seems to me that this is becoming the age of small things. The modern man can now without discomfort carry his dinner in a sandwich-case, and the modern woman considers her luggage complete if she is carrying her latest dress creation in her handbag."
"Dinner is the greatest peacemaker of civilisation yet invented," said Villebois; "together with a good glass of red wine it makes us, for the time being, friends with all the world. The busy man may consider it a trifle, but to my mind it is only the trifles after all which count. Nations, for instance, never go to war about important matters. What was the cause of the Franco-German war? Merely an absurd argument about the candidates for the Spanish throne, a matter that few cared two sous about. Is not the entire human race (according to the authority of the Holy Church) doomed to everlasting perdition simplybecause a woman ate an apple, or something which she was told not to—goodness only knows how many centuries ago? Did not England become a Protestant country simply because the Pope refused to allow Henry the Eighth to divorce his wife Katherine?"
"But I can give you a better instance," said Riche. "If we are to believe Dr. Ross, the decline and fall of the glorious Greek nation was due to the merest trifle in the world—a tiny insect—the Anopheles, a malaria-carrying mosquito."
"Really, is that a fact?" interposed Marcel, "but talking of trifles, what do you think of Napoleon having to abdicate simply because his cook roasted a fowl in too great a hurry, and so caused him to have an attack of indigestion, whereby he lost the great battle of the Nations at Leipzig."
"This sounds like trifling with our common-sense," said Pierre to Renée in the hope of attracting her attention away from Marcel.
"Yes," said Delapine who had just caught the word 'trifles,' "I owe everything to trifles. They control the essentials of life. The man who can see further than other men is doubtless a genius, but he who can do that and at the same time attend to trifles and details goes much further; he not only rises to the top, but he stays there."
"Details are always vulgar," whispered Pierre to Renée, as he helped himself to a slice of pheasant stuffed with truffles.
"Did you say vulgar?" asked Marcel, who had just managed to catch the last word of the whispered conversation, "I agree with our friend Villebois that our happiness is largely made up of trifles: perhaps that accounts for the fact that lovely woman has devoted her life to trifling. The divine creatures trifle with our hearts, and then when they have stolen them, they make tire-lires of them."
"I have studied the fair sex all my life," said Riche, "and I assure you I understand them less now than ever. When a man flatters himself that he understands a woman, he——"
"Merely flatters himself?" interposed Marcel laughing.
"Woman generally tries to attract a man's eye, by means of her feminine magnetism and then blames him for being caught by prettiness and superficial charms. But she rarely tries to appeal to his better self," said Delapine.
"Life, after all," interposed Riche, "is a tragedy to those who feel, but to those who think, it is only a huge comedy. My rule is never to appear in earnest, except, of course, when seeing my patients. If a man is serious, everyone votes him a bore, and the ladies only laugh at him. An over-sensitive conscience is simply the evidence of spiritual dyspepsia. The man who has it is no better than his fellows."
"A man considers his little weaknesses mere amiable traits," said Pierre, "whereas a woman——"
"Will not admit that she has any," said Marcel.
"A woman is invariably right," said Dr. Riche with a sigh. "A woman is guided by instinct, a man by reason, and for the good it does him he might as well have never thought at all."
"Yes," interrupted Marcel, "and if you prove that she is in the wrong, she will become the more convinced that she was right all the time, and you will only get laughed at for your pains."
"My dear Marcel," said Villebois, "you will be making enemies of the ladies if you say that, and to make them your enemies is worse than a crime—it is a folly!"
"The gentle art of making enemies is the only natural accomplishment which is common to all sorts and conditions of men," added Riche.
"One can never be too careful in the choice of one's enemies," said Marcel, toying with a dish of salted almonds. "I always choose my enemies more carefully than I do my friends, and therefore they respect and appreciate me. Isn't that so, Monsieur Duval?"
"At any rate," replied the young advocate, "one's enemies are much the more useful—they can be counted on to advertise us behind our backs, whereas our friends merely flatter us to our faces."
"How tasteless is the soup unless flavoured by the sauce of our enemies," said Marcel.
"You seem to be taking a very pessimistic view of mankind," exclaimed Villebois. "I believe there is a sub-stratum of good in all bad people, and if one makes enemies it is to a great degree one's own fault."
"From all our enemies, and most of our friends, good Lord deliver us," added Riche.
"To my mind," said Villebois, "bad and good men are only a matter of degree. It entirely depends upon the point of view, and there is a great deal more in the point of view than is generally admitted."
"Yes," said Marcel, "our weaknesses we regard as misfortunes from which we cannot escape; whereas the weaknesses of others we consider to be shocking crimes. While we all pretend to hate sin, we are only charitable to the sinner when we happen to be the one in question."
"Ah, well, the devil is never so black as he is painted, in fact he is far more like us than we care to admit," said Delapine. "I feel sure," he added, "if we saw ourselves as others see us, we should refuse to believe our own eyes. If we could only combine what others think of us with what we think of ourselves we should probably get at the truth."
"Good and bad are only abstracts," interrupted Pierre, "but money, good solid tangible money, is, after all, the only thing of real importance in this world."
"But surely there are things of more value than money," said Riche enquiringly.
"Of course there are," replied Pierre, "and that is why I need all the money I can get to acquire them. Take lovely woman, for example. A man with money can marry any girl he pleases."
"Ah! you are right there," interrupted Marcel. "I for one believe that women only admire the gilded youth because he is a golden calf!"
"Important things are out of fashion," said Delapine. "People now-a-days will argue for hours about such things as the flavour of wines, the latest novel, or a new way of driving a golf ball; but deadly serious matters, such as being married or hanged, or the chances of a future life in Heaven or Hell are treated as a huge joke, if they are ever referred to at all."
"I still maintain that money comes before everything," said Duval. "With money one can buy everything worth having: pleasures, friendship, and even love. As Goethe says:
"Ja! wenn zu Sol sich Luna fein gesellt,Zum Silber, Gold, dann ist es heitre Welt;Das Ubrige ist alles zu erlangen;Paläste, Gärten, Brüstlein, rote Wangen."
"No, no, a thousand times no," cried Delapine, "that I never can agree to. Riches will not buy everything, in fact they will scarcely buy anything that is genuine, or worth having—neither real pleasures, friends, nor genuine love—nor is it essential to success. A man's life should be judged by the results obtained, or by the work he has achieved, not by the amount of money he has accumulated. Happiness is not obtained by money, but is the outcome of conscious usefulness. The accomplishment of good work of any kind produces more solid contentment and satisfaction than all the money in the world. True happiness lies in content, and sweet content finds everywhere enough. Nearly all the really great men have been poor, or at least have begun life handicapped for want of money," continued the professor. "It looks like a decree of nature in order to give them that stimulus and grit necessary to carry them over all obstacles."
"I know from my own experiences," said Riche, "the wealthy man does not care for the things which only require his filling in a cheque to acquire; and to the poor man the most acute pleasure lies in anticipation."
"That is quite true," added the professor. "If one possessed all, everything would be mere discontent and disillusion. A surfeit of happiness is fatal. If there is nothing left to desire, there is everything to fear."
"Everything comes to the man who knows how to wait, but it is no inducement to wait, for no man wants everything," said Villebois. "Yes, he usually wants one thing in particular—just that one thing which he never gets, no matter how long he waits," said Marcel, laughing.
"Have you been to the comédie lately?" asked Renée of Madame Villebois who was sitting opposite to her,looking extremely bored, and apparently utterly unable to follow the conversation.
"Yes, my dear, we went to see Yvette Guilbert, and she looked just too lovely in a dress specially created for her by Worth. The gown had a white sponge skirt with basque bodice of mulberry satin, and such a love of a bodice carried out in pink geranium brocaded crêpe. The right hip was swathed in black satin, and the left side had the material draped and caught up above the hem with a gold buckle and fringe of black silk. Then Mademoiselle Patel had a delightful three piece gown of pale green poplin, with a corsage of old filigree tissue showing just a touch of chêne ribbon on each side, while the neck ended in a creamy white lace ruffle. And, Renée dear, you should have seen her hat. It was a perfect poem. Just think of this:—Swathed crêpe de chine, with shaded flowers laid flat all along the rim, which she wore slightly tilted up at the back so as to show a pale green lining to match the gown.
"Oh! how lovely," exclaimed Renée, clapping her hands, "I wish I had been there, but what I want most to hear is what the play was about, and how you liked it."
"Really, Renée, you should not ask such absurd questions. I was so taken up with the dresses that I forgot all about the play. By the way, I have just ordered a frock like Mademoiselle Patel's for myself. You must come with me and see it tried on."
"Of course, I like pretty frocks, what girl doesn't? But I like a good play ever so much more. I get so carried away with the acting that I never notice what the people wear so long as they are not out of harmony with the play or the music. I went to see Romeo and Juliet for the first time last Saturday, and you can't think how I enjoyed it. But I was so sorry for poor Juliet, and felt drawn to her right away. I even found myself weeping. That speech of Friar Lawrence to her was so fine that I learnt it off by heart as soon as I got home. Of course you know it—don't you, madame," she asked enquiringly.
"What was it again? I am afraid I have forgotten it," said madame, who had not the remotest idea of what Renée was talking about.
"You must remember, in order to stop her marrying Paris whom she loathed, the Friar gave her a drug to swallow, which he told her would leave her to all appearances dead, and then she would wake up again quite well as soon as the danger was over; you know, it runs like this:—
"Hold, then; go home, be merry, give consentTo marry Paris; Wednesday is to-morrow;To-morrow night look that thou lie aloneLet not thy nurse lie with thee in thy chamber:Take thou this vial being then in bed,And this distilled liquor drink thou off:When, presently through all thy veins shall runA cold and drowsy humour: for no pulseShall keep his native progress, but surcease;No warmth, no breath shall testify thou liv'st.The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fadeTo paly ashes: thy eyes' windows fallLike death, when he shuts up the day of Life.Each part, deprived of supple government,Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like death:And in this borrowed likeness of shrunk death:Thou shalt continue two-and-forty hours.And then awake as from a pleasant sleep."
"I have often thought," interrupted Delapine who was listening most intently, "how I should like to leave this life, and then after a long sojourn in some other world, to wake up and find myself, like Juliet, once more at home. What countless problems one could solve, problems which have occupied the scientists for years. You cannot imagine, Renée, my intense longing to enter into the unknown and penetrate into the sealed mysteries of Nature. Alas, that exquisite joys should be denied to us, who are the first and last of all things, the Ultima Thule of evolution. I feel sometimes that in some extraordinary way I shall see it, Renée, but how, where, or when is more than I can conceive even in my wildest dreams."
So earnest and so wrapt was the young professor, and so apparently far away mentally while giving voice to his feelings, that a silence fell upon the assembled guests, and each one in turn leaned forward expectantly for whatwas to follow. The first, however, to break the spell was Renée.
"Something tells me, in fact has been telling me for some time, that you will have your wish, dear professor. It was only a couple of nights ago that I dreamt——"
"Really, Renée, you ought to——"
"Oh, please let me, Madame Villebois, I was only going to say that I dreamt that you, professor, had left this world and had gone so far, far away, that you were so happy; and then I saw you lying down so peacefully and you were fast asleep, and when I went up and spoke to you, you never answered, and they told me that you were dead."
"Renée, how can you tell such things," cried Madame Villebois.
"Pray allow her, madame," interjected Riche, deeply interested himself, and finding support in the approved murmur around him.
"Oh, how I cried when they told me that," continued Renée, "and then a stranger came up and comforted me, and told me to dry my tears, and I should soon be quite happy again. I remember turning round to see who he was, but he had vanished, and then I woke up."
"My dear Renée," said Madame terribly shocked, "you must not let the professor put such dreadful things into your little head, such dreams and ideas are only fit for crazy philosophers and not for young ladies in good society like yourself."
"I am quite old enough to take care of myself," said Renée, a little huffed, especially as she felt the remark was meant as much for Delapine as for herself.
Madame Villebois shrugged her shoulders and became suddenly occupied in absorbing her crême de vanille glacée. She tried to think of something to say in reply, but on looking up she caught Delapine's eye, and noticed a peculiar smile on his lips which entirely dumfounded her, and caused her to make a sign that dinner was over, as her only way of escape from the dilemma.
Doctor Villebois removed his napkin from his chin, whereupon the other gentlemen did likewise, and taking the hint from the host, they all rose and bowed as the ladies left the room.
"Come, let us follow the ladies to the drawing-room," said Villebois after a short pause, for the doctor being an ardent admirer of the English, endeavoured, as far as his wife would permit him, to follow the English customs. "I like England," he would say, "because there every man is allowed the possibility of becoming a gentleman."
"Dreams are mysterious things" said Delapine, nervously fingering his cigarette, as soon as the party had reassembled in the next room. "Sometimes the cause is purely physiological. Overstudy, an attack of indigestion, some disturbance of the circulation, or even some physical pressure may cause a dream or a nightmare. But again, there are other dreams widely different from these which often prove prophetic. In these one's real consciousness may be lost in sleep while the subliminal self, the alter-ego which never slumbers nor sleeps, rises to the surface and speaks in no uncertain tones. The mind sees with the startling clearness as if in a vision. Voices are heard as if from another world, while strange figures, and scenes of unknown places slowly rise before the dreamer. I can vouch for this, many a time it has occurred to me. Only the other day I had worked in vain for many hours trying to solve a physical problem, when suddenly I fell asleep, and in a dream I saw the changes take place, and the formula plainly worked out before my eyes. So clear was it that when I awoke I was able to copy what my mental vision had seen, and on trying the experiment, I found, to my great delight and relief, that the problem was solved."
"My dear Delapine," said Riche, "you surely do not believe in clairvoyance, thought-reading, telepathy, apparitions, and all that sort of thing?"
"Why not? Are we to doubt a thing merely because it is contrary to our experience? If you had stated thirty years ago that you would be able to converse with a friend on board a ship nearly four hundred miles away, or that you could see a man's bones in his body, or photograph the contents of a sealed wooden box, would not everyone have declared you mad? And yet these things are being done every day. Why then should the things you have just mentioned be less credible? The evidence in their favour is overwhelming. There is hardly a family in the world butcontains some member who has experienced such things. Nay, I will go farther, there is not a tribe in any nation, at any period of the world's history which has not believed in these things. As Abraham Lincoln once said, 'You may fool all men some time, you may fool some men for all time, but you cannot fool all men for all time.' No, sir, the things men laugh at to-day as impossible will be improbable to-morrow, conceivable the day after, and a little later everyone accepts them as a matter of course, and wonders how people could ever have been such fools as to have doubted them."
"But what evidence is there," said Riche, "that these apparitions and marvellous phenomena really occur? Why are séances held in the dark, or in merely a dull red light? If the performers were not tricksters could they not show these things in full daylight?"
"Permit me to ask you one question, my dear doctor," said Delapine. "Why do you develop your photographic plate in the dark and not in broad daylight?"
"The reason is obvious—the light would spoil the plate."
"Well then, might not the light interfere with the success of the phenomena of a séance in the same way? The one is just as logical as the other."
"Bravo, bravo," cried Renée, clapping her hands.
"Pardon me," said Riche, anxious to justify himself, "but what I complain of is the absence of any proof. What I demand is evidence that is unimpeachable and crushing before I can believe any of these things. All I ask for is some proof, some message purporting to come from the other world through spirits who will convince me that the dead live, and that they can communicate with us."
"You shall have it, you shall have it," cried the professor, rubbing his hands. "Have you ever heard the story of the Widow's Mite?"
"No" they all cried out together.
"Well, then, if you allow me, I will relate it to you."
CHAPTER III
THE STORY OF THE WIDOW'S MITE[4]
Der Feind den wir am tiefsten hassen,Der uns umlagert schwarz und dicht,Das ist der Unverstand der Massen,Den nur des Geistes Schwert durchbricht.Arbeiter—Marseillaise.
'Ce n'est pas la vérité qui persuade les hommes,Ce sont ceux qui la disent.'—Nicole.
Si non è vero, è molto ben trovato. Bruno (Eruici Furori) Part 2, Di 3.
Si non è vero, è molto ben trovato. Bruno (Eruici Furori) Part 2, Di 3.
"A fewyears ago I knew a lady in New York who was in the habit of giving gratuitous private sittings to her family and a few friends. The moment she became entranced in the curtained space in her room, one or more of her spirit controls would come and speak through her. Among them was a spirit named George Carrol, who, when alive had been a friend of the medium and some of her circle. He had a strong manly voice, and could be heard distinctly all over the room.
"One evening as her friends were sitting in the circle while the medium was entranced, the loud voice of George was heard, 'Has anyone here got anything belonging to the late Henry Ward Beecher?'
"'I have a letter in my pocket from Mr. Beecher's successor, if that is what you mean?' said a gentleman present.
"'No,' replied George, 'I am informed by another spirit present that Mr. Beecher is greatly concerned about an ancient coin "The Widow's Mite." This coin is out of place and ought to be returned. It has long been missing, and Mr. Beecher looks to you, Mr. Funk, to return it.'
"'But, my dear sir,' replied Mr. Funk, 'the only Widow's Mite I ever heard of was the one I borrowed many years ago for the purpose of making a copy for the Dictionary, and I am confident that I returned it.'
"'It has not been returned,' the voice replied. 'Go to your large iron safe and you will find it in a drawer under a lot of papers. It has been lost for many years, and Mr. Beecher says he wants it returned. That is all I can tell you.'
"The next day Mr. Funk called in the cashier and said 'Do you remember an old coin called "The Widow's Mite" which we used for the Dictionary?'
"'Yes, but it was sent back years ago.'
"'Are you sure of this?'
"'Absolutely certain.'
"'Well go and look in our large iron safe, and see if it is there.'
"'Of course I will do it, but I know it is useless, as I have turned out the contents hundreds of times.'
"Well, would you believe it, in a short time he returned and handed Mr. Funk an envelope containing two Widow's Mites, a smaller light coloured one and a black one. The envelope had been found in a little drawer in the iron safe under a lot of papers, where it had not been seen or disturbed for many years. In fact it had been entirely forgotten.
"Now, the curious part of the affair was that the smaller bright coin had been thought to be the genuine one, and had in consequence been used for the Dictionary. No one dreamt that the black one could be the genuine one. However, at the next séance when George began talking, I said to George, 'I find there are two coins in the envelope, tell me which of the two is the right one?'
"Instantly he replied, 'Why, the black coin of course.'
"Mr. Funk said, 'I am certain he is wrong there, I know that the black coin is spurious.'
"Then he asked George again, 'Can you tell me to whom I have to return it?'
"He replied, 'To a friend of Mr. Beecher's, I can't remember his name, but I have seen a picture of the college where he resides, and I know that it is in Brooklyn.'
"'What part of Brooklyn?' asked Mr. Funk.
"'On Brooklyn Heights.'
"'A gentlemen's or a ladies' school?'
"'A ladies' school.'
"On enquiry Mr. Funk found that a ladies' school was there, and that the Principal was a Professor Charles West.
"On consulting his old ledgers, he found that this was the very man to whom he had promised to return the coin.
"At a future sitting Mr. Funk said to George, 'Why could you not tell me his name right away?'
"'I don't know,' replied George, 'For some reason Mr. Beecher would not tell me. He said he was not concerned about the return of the coin, all he wanted was to give me a test which would convince me that there was a direct communication between the two worlds, and having succeeded in that, he cared nothing more about it.'
"After receiving this surprising answer, Mr. Funk sent the two coins again to the Mint, and received the reply that the director had consulted the assistant in the department of coins in the British Museum and was assured that the black coin was the genuine one.
"The most remarkable thing about the whole affair," added Delapine, "is that Mr. Funk happened to be the only man present at the séances who had ever heard of the Widow's Mite, and he had not the slightest conception of any of the facts which George had told him through the medium. The incident had occurred nine years before, and the whole history of the coin had not only passed completely out of his mind, but the fact, which George told him about it, was entirely new to him. Hence it was out of the question that the medium could have read his mind. How then are we to account for this revelation except by some intelligence on the other side of the Veil?"
"It must have been a put-up job—in fact a case of fraud, or else one of forgetfulness," said Duval.
"No, my dear sir, that is impossible. Forgetfulnesshas nothing to do with it, as Mr. Funk was certain that his instructions to return the coin had been carried out to the letter. Why, even the owners of the coin never knew it was missing. Besides, no one except the cashier ever had access to the safe, and they had never known or even seen the medium."
"Ah, Pierre," replied Villebois, laughing, "confess that Delapine has fairly answered your objection."
"Well then," said Duval, nettled at the defeat of his argument, "it must have been a case of coincidence, that is certain."
"That explanation won't hold water. As far as I know this is the only private coin of its kind in the world, and, excepting a few numismatic specialists, no one knew of its existence. How could George have guessed the exact place where the person lived who had to receive the coin, when you consider the millions of likely places to choose from? And how could he have pointed out the exact spot where the coin was to be found, a spot where no one ever dreamt of looking for it? And lastly, when the two coins were found, why should George have named the black one, when no one in the circle except Mr. Funk was aware that there was a black one?"
"Bravo, bravo, professor," cried Riche, "these lawyers are very shrewd, but they lack scientific training. Ah! Monsieur Duval, you have met your match at last. Coincidence is clearly ruled out of the court in this case."
Pierre's pride would not allow him to admit the validity of Delapine's argument, although he felt its force.
"I have it," exclaimed Riche, "If it was not a fraud or coincidence there is only one thing left to explain it,viz., telepathy or clairvoyance. Both Mr. Funk and the cashier knew that the coin had been borrowed, and it was the subconscious memory of one or the other of them which influenced the medium."
"If that be your explanation," said Delapine, "how do you overcome the difficulty that both Mr. Funk and the cashier were convinced that the coin had been returned? No person at the séance knew anything about the coin except Mr. Funk. The incident had been entirely forgotten by the latter for many years. Again, how could themedium know from Mr. Funk's mind that he had not returned it, when he was certain that he had done so? And lastly you must remember that the medium had never seen the cashier, nor had she ever known of the existence of the drawer of the safe."
"No," cried Villebois, rising from the table and spreading out his hands with an emphatic gesture to the company, "I am convinced it is due to spirit intelligences. They find out everything. Mr. Beecher must have had a talk with George about it in the spirit world, and made him promise that he would see that the coin was sent back. Oh! it is as clear as daylight," he added, thumping the table with his fist.
"Ha! ha! really you are too funny, doctor," said Riche sarcastically. "Spirits! Oh mon Dieu! what are we coming to? In the twentieth century no sensible man believes in such things."
"Oh! how dreadful," cried Madame Villebois, "to imagine that there are spirits about. Really, I think it is most improper to talk about such things, especially before ladies. What would my adored mother have said to all this? If I had thought that my dear Adolphe had believed in spirits I would never have married him, never! Oh! what will my confessor say when I tell him?" And the good lady dabbed her eyes with her scented handkerchief, as she sat back in her chair perspiring.
"I think the professor and Villebois have clean gone off their heads," said Pierre sotto voce to Marcel. "Much learning hath made them mad."
"I am not so sure about that," replied Marcel. "Spiritualism, you know, is becoming quite fashionable, and it is no longer a heresy among the ladies to believe in it. I became quite lionised by the adorable creatures at a garden-party the other day when I quoted a passage from 'Le Livre des Esprits' by Allen Kardec, and they insisted on my relating my adventures in a haunted house near the Bois. It was very absurd of course, but they all believed it as if it were Holy Writ."
At this moment the door opened and Monsieur Payot was announced. The latter was a typical specimen of a well-to-do Bourgeois citizen. He possessed a large baldhead, smooth and polished like a billiard ball, while his blue smiling eyes, and clean shaven double chin bespoke a man who seemed well pleased with the world and himself in particular. He was attired in faultless evening dress, with the red ribbon of the Legion of Honour in his button-hole.
"Mille pardons, madame, but I was detained at the Crédit Lyonnais. I have just concluded a most satisfactory deal in the rubber market. So important that I was even compelled to defer the pleasure of being with you at dinner. Ma foi, you look more charming than ever, madame. I trust Renée is well. Ah, there you are, my dear."
M. Payot sat down and beamed with a smile peculiar to one who has succeeded in appropriating a large sum of money belonging to his fellow-citizens.
"Professor Delapine has just been telling us about a coin which was restored to its owner through the agency of spirits," said Villebois.
"Agency of Spirits, did you say? More likely agency of fiddlesticks," said Payot with a grunt. "My dear sir, don't worry your head over such things. All we have to concern ourselves with is to enjoy life, and make all the money we can, after providing dots for our daughters. Believe me, all else is nonsense. I'll never believe in spirits, or in anything that we can't explain or understand. Table rapping, mesmerism, thought-reading, telepathy, spirit photographs, materialisations, are all nonsense. Fraud, my dear sir, pure fraud, and nothing else. Masks, rubber bands, double exposures, phosphorised oil, invisible wires, knees and thumbs pushing the table along, table raps arranged beforehand, confederates hidden in the cabinets playing concertinas and ringing bells. You see I know all about them. I can do it—anyone can do it. I have exposed them all. Bah! I tell you these things are impossible." The great man wiped his face with a vast display of purple silk handkerchief, and sat down fully convinced that he had uttered the last word that could be said on the matter, and that he had made a most profound and impressive speech.
"He who pronounces anything to be impossible outsidethe field of pure mathematics is wanting in prudence," said Delapine quietly.
"Whoever said such nonsense?" enquired Payot.
"François Arago," replied Delapine quietly with a comical smile.
Payot was silent, and a titter went round the room, as Arago was considered by common consent to have been the first scientist in France.
"But still, my dear professor, these things are after all merely a huge joke," said Riche.
The professor opened his blue eyes very wide and smiled.
"My dear doctor, a learned pedant who laughs at the possible comes very near being an idiot. To shun a fact purposely, and turn one's back upon it with a supercilious smile, is to bankrupt truth."
"Is that really your opinion?" asked Riche.
"It is, but they are not my words. Besides, do you not remember that the great English naturalist Huxley wrote 'I am unaware of anything that has the right to the title of an "impossibility" except a contradiction in terms. There are impossibilities logical but not natural. Walking on the water, turning water into wine, or raising the dead are plainly not impossibilities in this sense.'"
Renée's eyes sparkled as she looked up into his face with a sweet smile of approval.
The professor gave her a slight squeeze of the hand, and fell into a reverie of thought.
"But supposing, for the moment, that these phenomena were true," said Riche, "of what use are they? Surely spirits have something better to do than to waste their time in rapping tables, playing accordions or mandolins, ringing bells, or writing Greek sentences backwards, and answering all sorts of absurd questions. These things are only worthy of a mountebank, and not of serious people. Besides, these spirits never tell one anything new or worth knowing. If they informed us of their life on the other side, what they did, what they ate and drank, and how they amused themselves, I might think it worth while to examine the subject."
"Ah!" said Marcel, laughing, "what I should like them to tell me would be the name of the horse that is to winthe Grand Prix, or the Derby, to tell me the winning number in the State lottery, or to let me know what numbers to put my money on at Monte Carlo. Then, I confess, I would take up spiritualism with all my heart."
"I think spiritualism is just delightful," interposed Céleste. "I always believed that we never really die, and I know that I can feel what other people are thinking of without their saying a word. I do hope that the professor will show us some of these wonderful things. I am longing to know all about it."
"Céleste, I am shocked at you. You ought to know better," said Madame Villebois. "I am certain all this talk about spiritualism is very wicked. Father Pettavel told me so himself, and he attributes it all to the devil and his angels. The very thought that there may be spirits about, makes me positively afraid to go to sleep alone. Just suppose that they came and killed me in my bed, what would become of me then? I remember only the other night I heard strange, weird noises in my bedroom when I was in the dark, and saw gleaming eyes and dreadful forms prowl about. I called out to Adolphe to see what was the matter. Then a fearful spectral form with hollow eyes, and clothed in a sheet, came and stood over the end of my bed, and stretched out its thin, long, bony hands towards me, and bid me prepare to die. I was too afraid to call out, and had barely strength to cross myself and pray to the Blessed Virgin for aid. Thank heaven she heard me, and my prayer was answered, and the form slowly retreated and vanished, accompanied by the most fearful curses and groans. My confessor assured me that it was the Devil himself, and nothing but the efficacy of St. Geneviève's intercession to our Lady saved me."
Villebois burst into a loud laugh.
"Whatever are you laughing at?" said Madame, looking very shocked. "Was it not enough to frighten me to death?"
"Oh dear! Oh dear," said Villebois, almost choking with laughter. "My love, you saw nothing of the kind. I was at your side all the time, and you buried your head under the bedclothes and screamed with fright. I swear I saw nothing until I got up, when I found the whole causeof the disturbance was due to a strange black cat which had got locked up by accident in Madame's wardrobe. It sprang out as I opened it, snarled, and jumped out on our bed, and then bolted out of the room. This was the sole origin of your ghostly spectre and gleaming eyes, while the awful groans you thought you heard were the squeals which came from the little beast as I struck it with my cane when it fled."
Everyone roared with laughter, and Madame Villebois became very red and confused, and discreetly held her tongue.
A short silence ensued, and then Delapine awoke out of his reverie.
"The most astonishing thing about psychic phenomena," said Delapine, "is that nearly all men are profoundly ignorant of the very elements of the subject. The man in the street laughs at them, and the scientific man refuses to examine them, and yet the amount of literature which has been written on the subject is prodigious. These phenomena have been studied, examined, and recorded under strictly scientific conditions for upwards of fifty years, and every man who examines them carefully with an impartial mind, however sceptical he might be when he commenced his investigations, invariably becomes assured of their reality. But do not ask me to explain the phenomena. I confess I know nothing of their cause. As Fontanelle says 'It shows a great lack of intelligence to find answers to questions which are unanswerable.' I am like Faust who exclaims:—
"I've studied now Philosophy,And Jurisprudence, Medicine,And even—alas! Theology,From end to end with labour keen;And here, poor fool! with all my loreI stand no wiser than before.
"Nevertheless I have convinced myself that these extraordinary phenomena are absolutely true, and by your leave, ladies and gentlemen, I will demonstrate a very few of them, and next time that we meet I trust I will show you some far more striking experiments, but that is onlypossible when I have convinced you sufficiently to have complete faith in me, otherwise the phenomena will not succeed. It is remarkable," he continued, "that whenever anybody makes a discovery, or an invention, everyone laughs him to scorn, and derides him either as an impostor or a madman. When Galileo looked through his telescope, and saw the mountains and valleys of the moon, all the people jeered at him. When he directed the instrument on to the planet Venus, and observed its phases, which demonstrated the fact that the planet revolved round the sun, the philosophers refused to look through his telescope. When in 1786 Jouffroy constructed a steamboat, he ascended the Saône from Lyons to the island of Barbe, he presented a petition to the Academy of Science, and requested the Minister of the Interior to take over his boat, but they all refused even to look at his invention. Seventeen years later Fulton ascended the Seine in his newly invented steamer and the Government officials condescended so far as to be present, but they paid no attention to it, and allowed the poor man to go away unnoticed and neglected. He went away almost heart-broken to the United States, and there made the fortune of thousands of people.
"Professor Graham Bell went all round New York in the vain endeavour to sell a half interest in his newly invented telephone for 2,000 dollars. Everyone thought that he was mad, and he could not find a single person in the whole city who would risk £400 on his invention. To-day the Bell Telephone Co. has a capital amounting to millions of dollars, and the half interest which he offered would have made the lucky purchaser one of the richest men in the world.
"When an Englishman once offered to light the streets of London by means of coal-gas conducted through pipes, everyone said that he was mad, and the Chancellor (Lord Brougham), writing to a friend in Edinburgh, said, 'There is an idiot here in London who says that he can light the city with coal-gas conducted through a tube.' Sydney Smith even asked the inventor whether he would not like to store his gas in the dome of St. Paul's Cathedral?
"But before long all the streets of every capital in Europe were lit up by this very means.
"Galvani happened to hang some skinned frogs on an iron railing, with the intention of making them into soup, and, as chance would have it, tried the experiment of connecting the spinal column with the nerve of their legs by means of a bent wire made of tin and copper. Then he noticed that the legs twitched violently every time he made the connection, although they had been dead for some hours. He had no sooner published the account of what had happened than he became the laughing stock of Bologna; and no one thought sufficient of the experiment to repeat it for himself, and yet Galvani had discovered electricity, the greatest and most universally employed force that we know of. And if I tell you of this new force which I hope to exhibit to you some day, perhaps you will go away laughing at me, and saying, 'We don't understand what you are saying, and therefore you are talking nonsense.' If I 'will' to take this weight and raise it with my arm above my head, my will moves matter and overcomes gravity. What is the force which enables me to do it? You do not know. Neither do I, and yet no one in this room doubts that I have done it, because everyone of us performs a similar act a thousand times a day.
"Physiologists will tell you that every object we see forms a little image on a nervous layer at the back of our eyes, but they cannot tell you how that image is perceived by the mind, nor can they explain why the image appears so large—in fact life size—since the image on the retina (at the back of the eye) is a mere speck compared with the size of the image as it appears to us.
"People tell us that it is impossible that one body can act on another at a distance without anything connecting them. It is altogether as incomprehensible as a miracle, and yet we can see it happening every day of our lives. We call it gravitation, and imagine that by giving it a name we know all about it. But you cannot explain it, neither can I, and yet there is nothing in spiritualistic phenomena more wonderful, more incomprehensible than this. Why then should you take the one for granted, and absolutely refuse even to examine the other? Is it just to assert thata man must be bereft of his senses who believes in it, and has the courage to announce it publicly? You, my dear Monsieur Payot, who appear to know everything, assert that all the phenomena are the result of fraud, and so easy to perform that anyone can imitate them, you might give us physicists credit for some little amount of common sense. You seem to imagine that we, who have all our lives trained our faculties to observe minutely and to rest satisfied with nothing until we have examined it from every conceivable point of view, and reflected upon all possible source of error, can be deceived by tricks that a six-year-old child could see through in a minute. When I began my psychical investigations I not only visited all the conjuring exhibitions in Paris, but I underwent a course of instruction from Samuel Bellachini, Signor Bosco, Maskelyne and Devant, and Harry Kellar, besides mastering the works of Robert Houdin and Professor Hoffmann that I might make myself practically acquainted with every possible trick that is performed on the stage. But all these great conjurers assured me that with all their resources and apparatus they were unable to repeat the psychical phenomena which I have both witnessed and performed myself from time to time."
"Well, sir," replied Payot, visibly nettled by this speech, "since you are so clever, let me see some proof of your conjuring power."
"I am not accustomed to give exhibitions of conjuring either in public or private," replied Delapine with some warmth, "but since you have challenged me I will for once take up the gauntlet in my defence and convince you that I am not uttering idle words. Would you oblige me, Monsieur Payot, with the loan of your watch?"
Payot caught hold of his watch chain to remove it, but to his horror and amazement no watch appeared. It had gone.
"Oh, dear," he cried, "some one must have stolen it as I was coming here, as I remember perfectly well taking the time only a few minutes before I entered this house. It was a presentation watch, and a very valuable one too. My dear Villebois, will you be good enough to telephone to the police at once. I cannot afford to lose it," he added, looking very distressed.
"Do you know the number of the watch?" asked Delapine, "as that is most important. In fact I don't see how the police will ever be able to identify it otherwise, seeing how many thousands of gold watches there are in Paris."
"No, I can't say I do, but the watchmaker would be able to tell me."
"That is impossible," said Delapine. "The watch was made in Geneva, and the manufacturer has been dead some years now."
"I remember now," said Payot, "you are quite right. I sent it to Geneva to be repaired and I received a letter back saying that the maker had died two years before. But how Delapine knows these facts passes my comprehension. I am certain, now I reflect, that a thief snatched it out of my pocket, as I was in the act of stepping out of my carriage. In fact, I feel sure I could recognise the man if I were to meet him again. What a fool I was not to take the number of the watch; for, as the professor rightly says, it affords the only clue to its recovery."
"That is quite easy," said Delapine quietly. "The number is B40479, and the name of the maker is Bréguet."
"How can I prove that you are correct?" cried Payot, uncertain whether to be angry with the professor for making fun of him, or to be nonplussed at his uncanny knowledge.
"Nothing is more simple," answered Delapine. "My dear Villebois, would you mind touching the bell?"
"François," said Delapine as the servant entered the room, "will you be good enough to go into the spare bedroom, and on a chair near the window you will see a tall hat with a gold-mounted cane. Look inside the hat and bring me what you find there."
In a couple of minutes the servant returned carrying a gold watch which he handed to Delapine.
"Is this your watch?" asked Delapine, as he passed it to Payot with a bow.
"Yes," he replied, looking very astonished. "It looks like my watch."
"That is not sufficient proof. Pray observe the number and read it aloud."
"B40479," replied Payot, more mystified than ever.
"Well then, it must be your watch. Be good enough to put it in your pocket, and take care not to lose it again."
"That I shall never do," replied Payot. "I am much sharper than people give me credit for."
Delapine's eyes twinkled with amusement, which did not escape Payot's notice.
"Well, I will make a present of it to anyone who can take it away again without my being aware of it," Payot replied testily, as he felt his amour propre wounded at the professor's display of mirth.
"Be careful what you say. I have a long memory," said Delapine, laughing.
Payot examined his watch carefully, and opened the case to make sure that the works had not been spirited away.
"This is the work of Satan. I am sure no one can believe in God who does such things," said Madame Villebois.
"Do you believe in God?" asked young Duval with a sudden inspiration, hoping to depreciate him in Renée's eyes.
"No," replied Delapine, "I do not, because I cannot. My conscience will not permit me."
"But surely you believe in a Divine Being?" replied Villebois, looking very shocked.
"That too I cannot accept."
"Oh! what a dreadful man," cried Madame Villebois, absolutely horrified. "My dear," she whispered to her husband, "how could you invite an infidel to our house who does not believe in anything?"
"On the contrary, madame, I believe in many things," said Delapine, who overheard her remark, "although, unlike most people, I claim no credit for doing so. But one thing we must all admit, whatever we believe cannot alter the facts. People believe in a God because it acts as a Deus ex machina, to account for the difficulties which surround them on every side, and dispenses with their need of thinking. Besides, it flatters their vanity when they are told that God made man in His own image. Whereas, as a matter of fact, it is the other way about. Man made God in Man's own image. The idea of a Godis based on that of a gigantic man, or at least on something which has dimensions, and possesses certain human attributes and passions on a vast scale, although if we were to judge by the way the average person prays, his God would not make a decent sized man. On the other hand philosophy convinces me that the Eternal can have no shape, or attributes, or passions, such as we can conceive of. A Divine Being is open to the same objection. A Being implies a material form—something which exists. Now the Eternal cannot be anything which exists, at least not in the same sense that is attached to matter as we know it, since everything which exists must have had a beginning, and therefore cannot be eternal. Take a bucketful of the ocean, you have water. Take a sample of the atmosphere and you have air. Take a handful of space and you have Mind.
"This eternal Mind is the 'Fons et Origo' of everything. It is the source of all energy and all matter. It alone is eternal. All else is evanescent and unsubstantial. Did not Virgil make that profound remark:—
"Mens agitat Molem et magna corpore miscet."[5]
"Do we not find Marian Capella at the beginning of the Christian era mentioning Mind as being the fifth or fundamental element? Consider these facts well, for they form the key to all spiritualistic phenomena. At the end of the eighteenth century we find the great Russian poet Derchavin uttering the same idea in the following words of which I give the translation:—
"O Thou Eternal Mind whose presence bright,All space doth occupy, all motion guide;Unchanged through Time's all-devastating flight—Thou only God, there is no God beside.Being above all beings Mighty One,Whom none can comprehend and none explore;Who fills existence with Thyself alone,Embracing all, supporting, ruling o'er;Being whom we call God and know no more."Research in its Divine philosophy,May measure out the ocean deep,May count the stars, or the sun's rays;But God, for Thee there is no weight nor measure.None can search Thy counsels infinite and dark.Reason's brightest spark though multiplied by millions,And arrayed in all the glories of divinest thought;Is but an atom in the balance weighed against Thy greatnessIs a cypher wrought against Infinity."And what am I then? Nought!Nought, but the effluence of Thy light divine,Pervading worlds hath reached my spirit too;Yes! In my spirit doth Thy spirit shine,As shines the sunbeam in the drop of dew.Thy chains the unmeasured Universe surroundUpheld by Thee, by Thee inspired with breath,Thou the beginning with the end hath bound,And beautifully mingled life and death."As sparks shoot upwards from the fiery blazeSo suns are born—so worlds spring forth from thee,And as the spangles from the sunny raysShine round the glittering snow,So heaven's bright army echoes with Thy praise.What shall we call them—globes of crystal light?A glorious company of golden streams,Lamps of celestial ether burning bright.Suns lighting systems with their glorious beamsBut Thou to these are as the noon to night."What are ten million worlds compared with thee?And what am I then? Nought,Nought! But I live and on hope's pinions flyEager towards Thy presence,For in Thee I live and dwell—aspiring highEven to the threshold of Thy Divinity,I am, O God! and surely Thou must be!"
"Bravo!" cried Riche, "I for one pronounce you not guilty of the charge of atheism."
Payot felt that Delapine had decidedly the best of the argument, and being utterly unable to reply made an excuse to go.
"My dear Villebois," said he, "you cannot think how I have enjoyed this pleasant evening, but I have an important engagement with the Minister of Finance, and timepresses," and so saying he proceeded to pull out his watch. A cold shiver went through him. A gold watch was clearly there, but it was an open-faced one, whereas his was a hunter.
"Mon Dieu!" he cried, "my watch has gone, and someone has left his own in its place."
Everyone immediately felt for his own watch.
"By Jove!" exclaimed Marcel, "here's a funny thing. Why, I've got Payot's watch fastened on to my chain. Here's the number right enough, B40479. Look!" he exclaimed, "my gold seal has gone too, and my toothpick as well. Oh! Oh!! Oh!!!" he cried in three different tones.
"Yes," added Payot, "and what is far more serious, my pocket-book has disappeared, and it contains 10,000 frs. in Billets de Banque."
"And now my wedding ring has gone," sobbed Madame Villebois. "Oh you wicked, wicked man," she cried to Delapine, "I shall have you put in prison for this."
"Do not alarm yourself, my dear madame. It is your husband who is the thief, not I."
"What do you mean, sir!" cried Villebois indignantly, hardly knowing what he was saying.
"I can see it from here, papa," said Céleste, laughing. "It is hanging on your watch-chain."
There it was sure enough, and Villebois, looking very foolish, was obliged to release his watch before he could slip off the ring, which he handed to Madame.
"Villebois, mon ami," said Delapine, "will you oblige me by ringing the bell once more?"
"François," said Delapine solemnly, as the butler entered the room, "I am sorry to have to say it, but it is my duty to accuse you of stealing Monsieur Payot's pocket-book containing bank-notes to the amount of ten thousand francs."
"Me, sir!" replied François in astonishment. "Oh! monsieur, that is impossible."
"It is not impossible," replied Delapine severely. "You have it secreted on your person. I know it. Pierre, please lock the door, and put the key in your pocket. François, I must request you to allow Monsieur Payot to search you. If you refuse, I shall at once send for the police."
François grew deadly pale, and falling on his knees swore by the Holy Virgin and all the Saints that he was innocent.
Delapine appeared insensible to his appeal, and merely said, "Monsieur Payot, proceed."
The financier at once commenced to search the butler's pockets, while Delapine stood behind him and held his arms. Sure enough the first article he pulled out was the pocket-book. "Now, Monsieur Payot, be good enough to let me see whether all the notes are there. I wish to convince myself," said Delapine. And taking the pocket-book out of Payot's hands, he rapidly counted the notes, and subtracting one of them said to François, "I acquit you of all blame. It was I who did it in order to convince Monsieur Payot of my powers. This gentleman offered to make a present of his watch to anyone who could take it away from him without his being aware of it. I have succeeded, but I refuse to take his watch. Still, as I have been the cause of a great deal of unpleasantness to my esteemed friend François, I feel sure Monsieur Payot will not object if I present you with this note."
Whereupon the professor handed the butler one of the hundred-franc notes, and shaking him by the hand, told him he was a thorough good fellow, and at his request Pierre unlocked the door, and bowed the bewildered and delighted man out.
"One moment, Monsieur Payot, I perceive you also are a thief. If you will be good enough to put your hand in your left-hand waistcoat pocket you will find our friend Marcel's gold toothpick and seal. Pray hand them back to him with his watch, and he will give you yours in return."
The financier having at length recovered all his personal effects, shook hands all round, and bolted as fast as his legs would carry him, fully convinced that Delapine was the Devil.
"Well," said Delapine, "are you satisfied now?"
Villebois and his guests looked at one another in mute astonishment, much too bewildered to say anything.
"Another evening, with your permission," said Delapine, "I will show you some experiments of an entirely different character."