Dr. Heidegger's Experiment

by Nathaniel Hawthorne

　　That very singular man, old Doctor Heidegger, once invited fourvenerable friends to meet him in his study. There were threewhite-bearded gentlemen, Mr. Medbourne, Colonel Killigrew, and Mr.Gascoigne, and a withered gentlewoman whose name was the WidowWycherley. They were all melancholy old creatures, who had beenunfortunate in life, and whose greatest misfortune it was that theywere not long ago in their graves. Mr. Medbourne, in the vigor of hisage, had been a prosperous merchant, but had lost his all by a franticspeculation, and was no little better than a mendicant. ColonelKilligrew had wasted his best years, and his health and substance, inthe pursuit of sinful pleasures, which had given birth to a brood ofpains, such as the gout and divers other torments of soul and body.Mr. Gascoigne was a ruined politician, a man of evil fame, or atleast had been so, till time had buried him from the knowledge of thepresent generation, and made him obscure instead of infamous. As forthe Widow Wycherley, tradition tells us that she was a great beauty inher day; but, for a long while past, she had lived in deep seclusion,on account of certain scandalous stories which had prejudiced thegentry of the town against her. It is a circumstance worth mentioningthat each of these three old gentlemen, Mr. Medbourne, ColonelKilligrew, and Mr. Gascoigne, were early lovers of the WidowWycherley, and had once been on the point of cutting each other'sthroats for her sake. And, before proceeding further, I will merelyhint that Doctor Heidegger and all his four guests were sometimesthought to be a little beside themselves; as is not unfrequently thecase with old people, when worried either by present troubles or wofulrecollections."My dear friends," said Doctor Heidegger, motioning them to be seated,"I am desirous of your assistance in one of those little experimentswith which I amuse myself here in my study."If all stories were true, Doctor Heidegger's study must have been avery curious place. It was a dim, old-fashioned chamber, festoonedwith cobwebs 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,Doctor Heidegger was accustomed to hold consultations in all difficultcases of his practice. In the obscurest corner of the room stooda tall 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 fadedas her dress. Above half a century ago Doctor Heidegger had been onthe point of marriage with this young lady; but, being affectedwith some slight disorder, she had swallowed one of her lover'sprescriptions, and died on the bridal evening. The greatest curiosityof the study remains to be mentioned; it was a ponderous folio volume,bound in black leather, with massive silver clasps. There were noletters on the back, and nobody could tell the title of the book. Butit was well known to be a book of magic; and once, when a chambermaidhad lifted it, merely to brush away the dust, the skeleton had rattledin its closet, the picture of the young lady had stepped one foot uponthe floor, and several ghastly faces had peeped forth from the mirror;while the brazen head of Hippocrates frowned, and said: "Forbear!"Such was Doctor Heidegger's study. On the summer afternoon of our talea small round table, as black as ebony, stood in the centre of theroom, sustaining a cut-glass vase of beautiful form and workmanship.The sunshine came through the window, between the heavy festoons oftwo faded damask curtains, and fell directly across this vase; so thata mild splendor was reflected from it on the ashen visages of the fiveold people who sat around. Four champagne glasses were also on thetable."My dear old friends," repeated Doctor Heidegger, "may I reckon onyour aid in performing an exceedingly curious experiment?"Now Doctor Heidegger was a very strange old gentleman, whoseeccentricity had become the nucleus for a thousand fantastic stories.Some of these fables, to my shame be it spoken, might possibly betraced back to mine own veracious self; and if any passages of thepresent tale should startle the reader's faith, I must be content tobear the stigma of a fiction-monger.When the doctor's four guests heard him talk of his proposedexperiment, they anticipated nothing more wonderful than the murderof a mouse in an air-pump or the examination of a cobweb by themicroscope, or some similiar nonsense, with which he was constantly inthe habit of pestering his intimates. But without waiting for a reply,Doctor Heidegger hobbled across the chamber, and returned with thesame ponderous folio, bound in black leather, which common reportaffirmed to be a book of magic. Undoing the silver clasps, he openedthe volume, and took from among its black-letter pages a rose, or whatwas once a rose, though now the green leaves and crimson petals hadassumed one brownish hue, and the ancient flower seemed ready tocrumble to dust in the doctor's hands."This rose," said Doctor Heidegger, with a sigh, "this same witheredand crumbling flower, blossomed five and fifty years ago. It wasgiven me by Sylvia Ward, whose portrait hangs yonder, and I meant towear it in my bosom at our wedding. Five and fifty years it has beentreasured between the leaves of this old volume. Now, would you deemit possible that this rose of half a century could ever bloom again?""Nonsense!" said the Widow Wycherley, with a peevish toss of her head."You might as well ask whether an old woman's wrinkled face could everbloom again.""See!" answered Doctor Heidegger.He uncovered the vase, and threw the faded rose into the water whichit contained. At first, it lay lightly on the surface of the fluid,appearing to imbibe none of its moisture. Soon, however, a singularchange began to be visible. The crushed and dried petals stirred, andassumed a deepening tinge of crimson, as if the flower were revivingfrom a death-like slumber; the slender stalk and twigs of foliagebecame green; and there was the rose of half a century, looking asfresh as when Sylvia Ward had first given it to her lover. It wasscarcely full blown; for some of its delicate red leaves curledmodestly around its moist bosom, within which two or three dewdropswere sparkling."That is certainly a very pretty deception," said the doctor'sfriends; careless, however, for they had witnessed greater miracles ata conjurer's show; "pray how was it effected?""Did you ever hear of the 'Fountain of Youth,'" asked DoctorHeidegger, "which Ponce de Leon, the Spanish adventurer, went insearch of, two or three centuries ago?""But did Ponce de Leon ever find it?" said the Widow Wycherley."No," answered Doctor 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 magnolias, which,though numberless centuries old, have been kept as fresh as violets,by the virtues of this wonderful water. An acquaintance of mine,knowing my curiosity in such matters, has sent me what you see in thevase.""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 DoctorHeidegger; "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, Doctor Heidegger had been filling the four champagneglasses with the water of the Fountain of Youth. It was apparentlyimpregnated with an effervescent gas; for little bubbles werecontinually ascending from the depths of the glasses, and burstingin silvery spray at the surface. As the liquor diffused a pleasantperfume, the old people doubted now that it possessed cordialand comfortable properties; and though utter sceptics as to itsrejuvenescent power, they were inclined to swallow it at once. ButDoctor 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 secondtime through the perils of youth. Think what a sin and shame it wouldbe if, with your peculiar advantages, you should not become patternsof virtue 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 Doctor Heidegger imputed to it,could not have been bestowed on four human beings who needed it morewofully. They looked as if they had never known what youth or pleasurewas, but had been the offspring of nature's dotage, and always thegray, decrepit, sapless, miserable creatures, who now sat stoopinground the doctor's table, without life enough in their souls or bodiesto be animated even by the prospect of growing young again. They drankoff 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 corpselike. They gazed at one another, and fancied thatsome magic power had really begun to smooth away the deep and sadinscriptions which Father Time had been so long engraving on theirbrows. The Widow Wycherley adjusted her cap, for she felt almost likea woman 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 Doctor 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 glasses with the liquor of youth, enough ofwhich still remained in the vase to turn half the old people in thecity to the age of their own grandchildren. While the bubbles were yetsparkling on the brim, the doctor's four guests snatched their glassesfrom the table, and swallowed the contents at a single gulp. Was itdelusion? Even while the draught was passing down their throats itseemed to have wrought a change on their whole systems. Their eyesgrew clear and bright; a dark shade deepened among their silverylocks; they sat round the table, three gentlemen of middle age, and awoman 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 manneras proved that the water of the Fountain of Youth possessed someintoxicating qualities, unless, indeed, their exhilaration of spiritswere merely a lightsome dizziness, caused by the sudden removal ofthe weight of years. Mr. Gascoigne's mind seemed to run on politicaltopics, but whether relating to the past, present, or future could noteasily be determined, since the same ideas and phrases have been invogue these fifty years. Now he rattled forth full-throated sentencesabout patriotism, national glory, and the people's rights; now hemuttered some perilous stuff or other, in a sly and doubtful whisper,so cautiously that even his own conscience could scarcely catch thesecret; and now, again, he spoke in measured accents and a deeplydeferential tone, as if a royal ear were listening to his well-turnedperiods. Colonel Killigrew all this time had been trolling forth ajolly battle-song, and ringing his glass toward the buxom figure ofthe Widow Wycherley. On the other side of the table Mr. Medbournewas involved in a calculation of dollars and cents, with which wasstrangely intermingled a project for supplying the East Indies withice, by harnessing a team of whales to the polar icebergs.As for the Widow Wycherley, she stood before the mirror, courtesyingand simpering to her own image, and greeting it as the friend whom sheloved better than all the world beside. She thrust her face close tothe glass to see whether some long-remembered wrinkle or crow's-foothad indeed vanished. She examined whether the snow had so entirelymelted from her hair that the venerable cap could be safely thrownaside. At last, turning briskly away, she came with a sort of dancingstep to the table."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 sonearly sunset that the chamber had grown duskier than ever; but a mildand moon-like splendor gleamed from within the vase, and rested alikeon the four guests, and on the doctor's venerable figure. He sat in ahigh-backed, elaborately carved oaken chair, with a gray dignity ofaspect that might have well befitted that very Father Time, whosepower had never been disputed, save by this fortunate company. Evenwhile quaffing the third draught of the Fountain of Youth, they werealmost awed by the expression of his mysterious visage.But the next moment the exhilarating gush of young life shot throughtheir veins. They were now in the happy prime of youth. Age, with itsmiserable train of cares, and sorrows, and diseases, was rememberedonly as the trouble of a dream, from which they had joyously awoke.The fresh gloss of the soul, so early lost, and without which theworld's successive scenes had been but a gallery of faded pictures,again threw its enchantment over all their prospects. They felt likenew-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.They were a group of merry youngsters, almost maddened with theexuberant frolicsomeness of their years. The most singular effect oftheir gayety was an impulse to mock the infirmity and decrepitude ofwhich they had so lately been the victims. They laughed loudly attheir old-fashioned attire--the wide-skirted coats and flappedwaistcoats of the young men, and the ancient cap and gown of theblooming girl. One limped across the floor like a gouty grandfather;one set a pair of spectacles astride of his nose, and pretended topore over the black-letter pages of the book of magic; a third seatedhimself in an arm-chair, and strove to imitate the venerable dignityof Doctor Heidegger. Then all shouted mirthfully, and leaped aboutthe room. The Widow Wycherley--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."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 curls that clustered beneath the widow'scap. Blushing, panting, struggling, chiding, laughing, her warm breathfanning each of their faces by turns, she strove to disengage herself,yet still remained in their triple embrace. Never was there a livelierpicture of youthful rivalship, with bewitching beauty for the prize.Yet, by a strange deception, owing to the duskiness of the chamber andthe antique dresses which they still wore, the tall mirror is saidto have reflected the figures of the three old, gray, witheredgrand-sires, ridiculously contending for the skinny ugliness of ashrivelled grandam.But they were young: their burning passions proved them so. Inflamedto madness by the coquetry of the girl-widow, who neither grantednor quite withheld her favors, the three rivals began to interchangethreatening glances. Still keeping hold of the fair prize, theygrappled fiercely at one another's throats. As they struggled to andfro, 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, grownold in the decline of summer, had alighted there to die. The insectfluttered lightly through the chamber, and settled on the snowy headof Doctor Heidegger."Come, come, gentlemen!--come, Madame Wycherley!" exclaimed thedoctor, "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 Doctor Heidegger, who satin his carved arm-chair, holding the rose of half a century which hehad rescued from among the fragments of the shattered vase. At themotion of his hand the rioters resumed their seats, the more readilybecause their violent exertions had wearied them, youthful though theywere."My poor Sylvia's rose!" ejaculated Doctor Heidegger, holding it inthe light 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, thebutterfly fluttered down from the doctor's snowy head, and fell uponthe floor.His guests shivered again. A strange dullness, whether of the body orspirit they could not tell, was creeping gradually over them all. Theygazed at one another, and fancied that each fleeting moment snatchedaway a charm, and left a deepening furrow where none had been before.Was it an illusion? Had the changes of a lifetime been crowded into sobrief a space, and were they now four aged people, sitting with theirold friend, Doctor Heidegger?"Are we grown old again so soon?" cried they, dolefully.In truth, they had. The Water of Youth possessed merely a virtuemore transient than that of wine. The delirium which it created hadeffervesced away. Yes, they were old again! With a shuddering impulse,that showed her a woman still, the widow clasped her skinny hands overher face, and wished that the coffin lid were over it, since it couldbe no longer beautiful."Yes, friends, ye are old again," said Doctor Heidegger; "and lo! theWater of Youth is all lavished on the ground. Well, I bemoan it not;for if the fountain gushed at my doorstep, I would not stoop to bathemy 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.