DR. HEIDEGGER'S EXPERIMENT.
That very singular man old Dr. Heidegger once invited four venerablefriends to meet him in his study. There were three white-beardedgentlemen--Mr. Medbourne, Colonel Killigrew and Mr. Gascoigne--and awithered gentlewoman whose name was the widow Wycherly. They were allmelancholy old creatures who had been unfortunate in life, and whosegreatest misfortune it was that they were not long ago in theirgraves. Mr. Medbourne, in the vigor of his age, had been a prosperousmerchant, but had lost his all by a frantic speculation, and was nowlittle better than a mendicant. Colonel Killigrew had wasted his bestyears and his health and substance in the pursuit of sinful pleasureswhich had given birth to a brood of pains, such as the gout and diversother torments of soul and body. Mr. Gascoigne was a ruinedpolitician, a man of evil fame--or, at least, had been so till timehad buried him from the knowledge of the present generation and madehim obscure instead of infamous. As for the widow Wycherly, traditiontells us that she was a great beauty in her day, but for a long whilepast she had lived in deep seclusion on account of certain scandalousstories which had prejudiced the gentry of the town against her. It isa circumstance worth mentioning that each of these three oldgentlemen--Mr. Medbourne, Colonel Killigrew and Mr. Gascoigne--wereearly lovers of the widow Wycherly, and had once been on the point ofcutting each other's throats for her sake. And before proceedingfarther I will merely hint that Dr. Heidegger and all his four guestswere sometimes thought to be a little beside themselves, as is notinfrequently the case with old people when worried either by presenttroubles or woeful recollections.
"My dear old friends," said Dr. Heidegger, motioning them to beseated, "I am desirous of your assistance in one of those littleexperiments with which I amuse myself here in my study."
If all stories were true, Dr. Heidegger's study must have been a verycurious place. It was a dim, old-fashioned chamber festooned withcobwebs and besprinkled with antique dust. Around the walls stoodseveral oaken bookcases, the lower shelves of which were filled withrows of gigantic folios and black-letter quartos, and the upper withlittle parchment-covered duodecimos. Over the central bookcase was abronze bust of Hippocrates, with which, according to some authorities,Dr. Heidegger was accustomed to hold consultations in all difficultcases of his practice. In the obscurest corner of the room stood atall and narrow oaken closet with its door ajar, within whichdoubtfully appeared a skeleton. Between two of the bookcases hung alooking-glass, presenting its high and dusty plate within a tarnishedgilt frame. Among many wonderful stories related of this mirror, itwas fabled that the spirits of all the doctor's deceased patientsdwelt within its verge and would stare him in the face whenever helooked thitherward. The opposite side of the chamber was ornamentedwith the full-length portrait of a young lady arrayed in the fadedmagnificence of silk, satin and brocade, and with a visage as faded asher dress. Above half a century ago Dr. Heidegger had been on thepoint of marriage with this young lady, but, being affected with someslight disorder, she had swallowed one of her lover's prescriptionsand died on the bridal-evening. The greatest curiosity of the studyremains to be mentioned: it was a ponderous folio volume bound inblack leather, with massive silver clasps. There were no letters onthe back, and nobody could tell the title of the book. But it was wellknown to be a book of magic, and once, when a chambermaid had liftedit merely to brush away the dust, the skeleton had rattled in itscloset, the picture of the young lady had stepped one foot upon thefloor and several ghastly faces had peeped forth from the mirror,while the brazen head of Hippocrates frowned and said, "Forbear!"
Such was Dr. Heidegger's study. On the summer afternoon of our tale asmall round table as black as ebony stood in the centre of the room,sustaining a cut-glass vase of beautiful form and elaborateworkmanship. The sunshine came through the window between the heavyfestoons of two faded damask curtains and fell directly across thisvase, so that a mild splendor was reflected from it on the ashenvisages of the five old people who sat around. Four champagne-glasseswere also on the table.
"My dear old friends," repeated Dr. Heidegger, "may I reckon on youraid in performing an exceedingly curious experiment?"
Now, Dr. Heidegger was a very strange old gentleman whose eccentricityhad become the nucleus for a thousand fantastic stories. Some of thesefables--to my shame be it spoken--might possibly be traced back tomine own veracious self; and if any passages of the present taleshould startle the reader's faith, I must be content to bear thestigma of a fiction-monger.
When the doctor's four guests heard him talk of his proposedexperiment, they anticipated nothing more wonderful than the murder ofa mouse in an air-pump or the examination of a cobweb by themicroscope, or some similar nonsense with which he was constantly inthe habit of pestering his intimates. But without waiting for a replyDr. Heidegger hobbled across the chamber and returned with the sameponderous folio bound in black leather which common report affirmed tobe a book of magic. Undoing the silver clasps, he opened the volumeand took from among its black-letter pages a rose, or what was once arose, though now the green leaves and crimson petals had assumed onebrownish hue and the ancient flower seemed ready to crumble to dust inthe doctor's hands.
"This rose," said Dr. Heidegger, with a sigh--"this same withered andcrumbling flower--blossomed five and fifty years ago. It was given meby Sylvia Ward, whose portrait hangs yonder, and I meant to wear it inmy bosom at our wedding. Five and fifty years it has been treasuredbetween the leaves of this old volume. Now, would you deem it possiblethat this rose of half a century could ever bloom again?"
"Nonsense!" said the widow Wycherly, with a peevish toss of her head."You might as well ask whether an old woman's wrinkled face could everbloom again."
"See!" answered Dr. Heidegger. He uncovered the vase and threw thefaded rose into the water which it contained. At first it lay lightlyon the surface of the fluid, appearing to imbibe none of its moisture.Soon, however, a singular change began to be visible. The crushed anddried petals stirred and assumed a deepening tinge of crimson, as ifthe flower were reviving from a deathlike slumber, the slender stalkand twigs of foliage became green, and there was the rose of half acentury, looking as fresh as when Sylvia Ward had first given it toher lover. It was scarcely full-blown, for some of its delicate redleaves curled modestly around its moist bosom, within which two orthree dewdrops were sparkling.
"That is certainly a very pretty deception," said the doctor'sfriends--carelessly, however, for they had witnessed greater miraclesat a conjurer's show. "Pray, how was it effected?"
"Did you never hear of the Fountain of Youth?" asked Dr. Heidegger,"which Ponce de Leon, the Spanish adventurer, went in search of two orthree centuries ago?"
"But did Ponce de Leon ever find it?" said the widow Wycherly.
"No," answered Dr. Heidegger, "for he never sought it in the rightplace. The famous Fountain of Youth, if I am rightly informed, issituated in the southern part of the Floridian peninsula, not far fromLake Macaco. Its source is overshadowed by several gigantic magnoliaswhich, though numberless centuries old, have been kept as fresh asviolets by the virtues of this wonderful water. An acquaintance ofmine, knowing my curiosity in such matters, has sent me what you seein the vase."
"Ahem!" said Colonel Killigrew, who believed not a word of thedoctor's story; "and what may be the effect of this fluid on the humanframe?"
"You shall judge for yourself, my dear colonel," replied Dr.Heidegger.--"And all of you, my respected friends, are welcome to somuch of this admirable fluid as may restore to you the bloom of youth.For my own part, having had much trouble in growing old, I am in nohurry to grow young again. With your permission, therefore, I willmerely watch the progress of the experiment."
While he spoke Dr. Heidegger had been filling the fourchampagne-glasses with the water of the Fountain of Youth. It wasapparently impregnated with an effervescent gas, for little bubbleswere continually ascending from the depths of the glasses and burstingin silvery spray at the surface. As the liquor diffused a pleasantperfume
, the old people doubted not that it possessed cordial andcomfortable properties, and, though utter sceptics as to itsrejuvenescent power, they were inclined to swallow it at once. But Dr.Heidegger besought them to stay a moment.
"Before you drink, my respectable old friends," said he, "it would bewell that, with the experience of a lifetime to direct you, you shoulddraw up a few general rules for your guidance in passing a second timethrough the perils of youth. Think what a sin and shame it would beif, with your peculiar advantages, you should not become patterns ofvirtue and wisdom to all the young people of the age!"
The doctor's four venerable friends made him no answer except by afeeble and tremulous laugh, so very ridiculous was the idea that,knowing how closely Repentance treads behind the steps of Error, theyshould ever go astray again.
"Drink, then," said the doctor, bowing; "I rejoice that I have so wellselected the subjects of my experiment."
With palsied hands they raised the glasses to their lips. The liquor,if it really possessed such virtues as Dr. Heidegger imputed to it,could not have been bestowed on four human beings who needed it morewoefully. They looked as if they had never known what youth orpleasure was, but had been the offspring of Nature's dotage, andalways the gray, decrepit, sapless, miserable creatures who now satstooping round the doctor's table without life enough in their soulsor bodies to be animated even by the prospect of growing young again.They drank off the water and replaced their glasses on the table.
Assuredly, there was an almost immediate improvement in the aspect ofthe party--not unlike what might have been produced by a glass ofgenerous wine--together with a sudden glow of cheerful sunshine,brightening over all their visages at once. There was a healthfulsuffusion on their cheeks instead of the ashen hue that had made themlook so corpse-like. They gazed at one another, and fancied that somemagic power had really begun to smooth away the deep and sadinscriptions which Father Time had been so long engraving on theirbrows. The widow Wycherly adjusted her cap, for she felt almost like awoman again.
"Give us more of this wondrous water," cried they, eagerly. "We areyounger, but we are still too old. Quick! give us more!"
"Patience, patience!" quoth Dr. Heidegger, who sat, watching theexperiment with philosophic coolness. "You have been a long timegrowing old; surely you might be content to grow young in half anhour. But the water is at your service." Again he filled their glasseswith the liquor of youth, enough of which still remained in the vaseto turn half the old people in the city to the age of their owngrandchildren.
While the bubbles were yet sparkling on the brim the doctor's fourguests snatched their glasses from the table and swallowed thecontents at a single gulp. Was it delusion? Even while the draught waspassing down their throats it seemed to have wrought a change on theirwhole systems. Their eyes grew clear and bright; a dark shade deepenedamong their silvery locks: they sat around the table three gentlemenof middle age and a woman hardly beyond her buxom prime.
"My dear widow, you are charming!" cried Colonel Killigrew, whose eyeshad been fixed upon her face while the shadows of age were flittingfrom it like darkness from the crimson daybreak.
The fair widow knew of old that Colonel Killigrew's compliments werenot always measured by sober truth; so she started up and ran to themirror, still dreading that the ugly visage of an old woman would meether gaze.
Meanwhile, the three gentlemen behaved in such a manner as proved thatthe water of the Fountain of Youth possessed some intoxicatingqualities--unless, indeed, their exhilaration of spirits were merely alightsome dizziness caused by the sudden removal of the weight ofyears. Mr. Gascoigne's mind seemed to run on political topics, butwhether relating to the past, present or future could not easily bedetermined, since the same ideas and phrases have been in vogue thesefifty years. Now he rattled forth full-throated sentences aboutpatriotism, national glory and the people's right; now he mutteredsome perilous stuff or other in a sly and doubtful whisper, socautiously that even his own conscience could scarcely catch thesecret; and now, again, he spoke in measured accents and adeeply-deferential tone, as if a royal ear were listening to hiswell-turned periods. Colonel Killigrew all this time had been trollingforth a jolly bottle-song and ringing his glass in symphony with thechorus, while his eyes wandered toward the buxom figure of the widowWycherly. On the other side of the table, Mr. Medbourne was involvedin a calculation of dollars and cents with which was strangelyintermingled a project for supplying the East Indies with ice byharnessing a team of whales to the polar icebergs. As for the widowWycherly, she stood before the mirror courtesying and simpering to herown image and greeting it as the friend whom she loved better than allthe world besides. She thrust her face close to the glass to seewhether some long-remembered wrinkle or crow's-foot had indeedvanished; she examined whether the snow had so entirely melted fromher hair that the venerable cap could be safely thrown aside. At last,turning briskly away, she came with a sort of dancing step to thetable.
"My dear old doctor," cried she, "pray favor me with another glass."
"Certainly, my dear madam--certainly," replied the complaisant doctor."See! I have already filled the glasses."
There, in fact, stood the four glasses brimful of this wonderfulwater, the delicate spray of which, as it effervesced from thesurface, resembled the tremulous glitter of diamonds.
It was now so nearly sunset that the chamber had grown duskier thanever, but a mild and moonlike splendor gleamed from within the vaseand rested alike on the four guests and on the doctor's venerablefigure. He sat in a high-backed, elaborately-carved oaken arm-chairwith a gray dignity of aspect that might have well befitted that veryFather Time whose power had never been disputed save by this fortunatecompany. Even while quaffing the third draught of the Fountain ofYouth, they were almost awed by the expression of his mysteriousvisage. But the next moment the exhilarating gush of young life shotthrough their veins. They were now in the happy prime of youth. Age,with its miserable train of cares and sorrows and diseases, wasremembered only as the trouble of a dream from which they had joyouslyawoke. The fresh gloss of the soul, so early lost and without whichthe world's successive scenes had been but a gallery of fadedpictures, again threw its enchantment over all their prospects. Theyfelt like new-created beings in a new-created universe.
"We are young! We are young!" they cried, exultingly.
Youth, like the extremity of age, had effaced the strongly-markedcharacteristics of middle life and mutually assimilated them all. Theywere a group of merry youngsters almost maddened with the exuberantfrolicsomeness of their years. The most singular effect of theirgayety was an impulse to mock the infirmity and decrepitude of whichthey had so lately been the victims. They laughed loudly at theirold-fashioned attire--the wide-skirted coats and flapped waistcoats ofthe young men and the ancient cap and gown of the blooming girl. Onelimped across the floor like a gouty grandfather; one set a pair ofspectacles astride of his nose and pretended to pore over theblack-letter pages of the book of magic; a third seated himself in anarm-chair and strove to imitate the venerable dignity of Dr.Heidegger. Then all shouted mirthfully and leaped about the room.
The widow Wycherly--if so fresh a damsel could be called awidow--tripped up to the doctor's chair with a mischievous merrimentin her rosy face.
"Doctor, you dear old soul," cried she, "get up and dance with me;"and then the four young people laughed louder than ever to think whata queer figure the poor old doctor would cut.
"Pray excuse me," answered the doctor, quietly. "I am old andrheumatic, and my dancing-days were over long ago. But either of thesegay young gentlemen will be glad of so pretty a partner."
"Dance with me, Clara," cried Colonel Killigrew.
"No, no! I will be her partner," shouted Mr. Gascoigne.
"She promised me her hand fifty years ago," exclaimed Mr. Medbourne.
They all gathered round her. One caught both her hands in hispassionate grasp, another threw his arm about her waist, the thirdburied his hand among the glossy
curls that clustered beneath thewidow's cap. Blushing, panting, struggling, chiding, laughing, herwarm breath fanning each of their faces by turns, she strove todisengage herself, yet still remained in their triple embrace. Neverwas there a livelier picture of youthful rivalship, with bewitchingbeauty for the prize. Yet, by a strange deception, owing to theduskiness of the chamber and the antique dresses which they stillwore, the tall mirror is said to have reflected the figures of thethree old, gray, withered grand-sires ridiculously contending for theskinny ugliness of a shrivelled grandam. But they were young: theirburning passions proved them so.
Inflamed to madness by the coquetry of the girl-widow, who neithergranted nor quite withheld her favors, the three rivals began tointerchange threatening glances. Still keeping hold of the fair prize,they grappled fiercely at one another's throats. As they struggled toand fro the table was overturned and the vase dashed into a thousandfragments. The precious Water of Youth flowed in a bright streamacross the floor, moistening the wings of a butterfly which, grown oldin the decline of summer, had alighted there to die. The insectfluttered lightly through the chamber and settled on the snowy head ofDr. Heidegger.
"Come, come, gentlemen! Come, Madam Wycherly!" exclaimed the doctor."I really must protest against this riot."
They stood still and shivered, for it seemed as if gray Time werecalling them back from their sunny youth far down into the chill anddarksome vale of years. They looked at old Dr. Heidegger, who sat inhis carved armchair holding the rose of half a century, which he hadrescued from among the fragments of the shattered vase. At the motionof his hand the four rioters resumed their seats--the more readilybecause their violent exertions had wearied them, youthful though theywere.
"My poor Sylvia's rose!" ejaculated Dr. Heidegger, holding it in thelight of the sunset clouds. "It appears to be fading again."
And so it was. Even while the party were looking at it the flowercontinued to shrivel up, till it became as dry and fragile as when thedoctor had first thrown it into the vase. He shook off the few dropsof moisture which clung to its petals.
"I love it as well thus as in its dewy freshness," observed he,pressing the withered rose to his withered lips.
While he spoke the butterfly fluttered down from the doctor's snowyhead and fell upon the floor. His guests shivered again. A strangedullness--whether of the body or spirit they could not tell--wascreeping gradually over them all. They gazed at one another, andfancied that each fleeting moment snatched away a charm and left adeepening furrow where none had been before. Was it an illusion? Hadthe changes of a lifetime been crowded into so brief a space, and werethey now four aged people sitting with their old friend Dr. Heidegger?
"Are we grown old again so soon?" cried they, dolefully.
In truth, they had. The Water of Youth possessed merely a virtue moretransient than that of wine; the delirium which it created hadeffervesced away. Yes, they were old again. With a shuddering impulsethat showed her a woman still, the widow clasped her skinny handsbefore her face and wished that the coffin-lid were over it, since itcould be no longer beautiful.
"Yes, friends, ye are old again," said Dr. Heidegger, "and, lo! theWater of Youth is all lavished on the ground. Well, I bemoan it not;for if the fountain gushed at my very doorstep, I would not stoop tobathe my lips in it--no, though its delirium were for years instead ofmoments. Such is the lesson ye have taught me."
But the doctor's four friends had taught no such lesson to themselves.They resolved forthwith to make a pilgrimage to Florida and quaff atmorning, noon and night from the Fountain of Youth.
LEGENDS OF THE PROVINCE-HOUSE.
I.--HOWE'S MASQUERADE. II.--EDWARD RANDOLPH'S PORTRAIT.III.--LADY ELEANORE'S MANTLE. IV.--OLD ESTHER DUDLEY.
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