“And I do not see why, when we have domesticated electricity and enslaved magnetism, we should not become masters of our spirituality.
“That leads us, quite naturally, to research into the duality of our nature, the scientific analysis of that duality. To separate from a corporeal envelope the soul that inhabits it, in order better to treat and study that soul, and perhaps to change its aspirations—is that not a goal worthy of imposing its ideal on a man of science?
“Already, let us not forget, our great hypnotizers—Charcot and Luys,8 to name only two—have enabled us to witness troubling cases of the exteriorization of the human soul. The experiment is facile, and I have repeated it many times, very often, with my daughter Jeanne, my collaborator, who has become so superior that in certain research, I have almost become her pupil...”
A few members of the audience turned round, trying to discover in the audience the young woman whose work had astonished the scientific world, but Jeanne Fortin was not at the session.
The doctor continued: “Such subjects lose consciousness of their individuality and become, in the hands of the master, an obedient and passive machine. The sense of things is transformed, tastes are modified profoundly, the body is insensible to suffering, and can even assume positions contrary to the laws of equilibrium.
“Why?
“Because the soul is absent, and nothing remains in the hands of the operator but an automaton.
“Thus, we are able to manipulate the soul, a subtle fluid, as the electrician manipulates the current from which he draws energy, light and heat; and it is possible—this is the most important point of my communication—to instruct that fluid to quit, for a time, the being that in animates, to animate another corporeal envelope. The subjects do not suffer any harm in so doing, as I shall have the honor of proving by means of a public experiment.
“This fluid is stored in the circumvolutions of our brain, and, like everything within us, is never at rest. You cannot have failed to reflect, Messieurs, about this world that lives within us and for us. Without that molecular activity, which is the fundamental constituent of all bodies, life could not be manifest. We each consider ourselves to be one being, but in reality we are an association of beings, to which are added chemical, mineral, gaseous and, finally, fluidic elements. Nature, after having composed a being whose mechanical movements are regulated by the play of muscles, nerves and bones, has given all that a fluidic motor, and our brain performs the function of a switchboard receiving and distributing sensations. Thus we utilize a few exterior forces: electricity, magnetism, waves, radiation, etc. You know as well as I do how the king of animals makes marvelous use of exterior fluids.
“From there we have, quite naturally, been led to the study of the interior fluids, the fluids of the spirit, of the soul. In the same way that we make use of electricity and magnetism without having been able to analyze them, we shall make use of the animal fluid without being able to define it: a strange fluid, in truth, of which we are both masters and slaves. For it permits use to direct our thought in a waking state, but wanders in the most bizarre fashion in the dream state. Thus, an individual who sleeps for six hours a day spends a quarter of his existence in an extraordinarily fantastic second life. In addition, if the subject is afflicted by morbid anomalies, his fluid loses its personality and obeys a will sufficiently powerful to dominate it; in that case, an inferior fluid is mastered by a superior one.
“Furthermore, that inferior fluid may be deceived, duped and constrained to act contrary to its own judgment and will. That human fluid, Messieurs, as you know, is subject to anomalies that are akin to maladies. The comparative study of various fluids and various means of influencing them has led us to surprising results—among others, to the conclusion that the fluid of normal subjects can be forced to passive obedience by a cultivated fluid having an absolute dominance over the others. From there to the exteriorization of that fluid and its vagabondage in the waking state is only a small step. That step, we have taken, and I have come to submit to you today the results of experiments of which, I admit to my shame, the demonstration and analysis are not yet possible for us.”
At that moment, there was a stir in the audience. Among the colleagues as well as the public, many people were wondering, given Fortin’s singular character—whether he might be indulging in an extravagance. That scientist of genius was, in the opinion of some, a trifle harebrained, and quite capable of an eccentricity. However, he had already made so many sensational speeches that this one, on reflection, was no more troubling than the others. And when it was realized that the most renowned member of the Académie des Sciences was about to proceed with a permutation of souls, a slight frisson ran through the flesh of the “lovely ladies.”
Smiling—with the expression of a sardonic pope—the doctor continued:
“Don’t expect, Messieurs, that I’m going to read you the formidable report that treats this question. Apart from the fact that the revelation of my discovery would not be without danger if I rendered it public, it is too technical and far too long for me to undertake its reading. I have had a paper printed, which I shall propose to the A.D.S.”—there was a movement of puzzlement and Fortin, still smiling, explained—“to the Goddess: the Académie des Sciences; but I believe that it is not inappropriate to proceed right away with a proof that will convince the incredulous. Mesdames...”
The members of the Académie des Sciences looked at one another, slightly shocked and anxious. It was the first time that one of their members, on the subject of a communication, had addressed himself directly to the public. Dr. Fortin was decidedly determined not to refuse himself any liberty.
“Mesdames,” he continued, “I appeal to your good will. There is, in any case, no danger. Which of you would like to continue to speak in my stead—with my feeble spirit, of course?”
One professor whispered in his neighbor’s ear: “He’s addressing idlers, like a charlatan or a fairground wrestler in a public square asking for challengers.”
Other colleagues opened their eyes wide, testifying to their emotion. They did not know what manifestation of genius or buffoonery they were about to witness. In any case, this was no ordinary session; it was turning into a spectacle, a circus performance.
The ladies looked at one another, a trifle alarmed—but none of them budged.
“Very well,” said the scientist. “I shall be obliged to do without your good will.”
Addressing himself then to the Marquise de Virmile, he bowed and said: “It will therefore be you, Madame, for you are someone that no one will accuse of being an accomplice. A part of my spirit—of my thought, I could say—is now sliding into your brain. You are already Fortin, and I am retaining of my personality only what is necessary to direct this experiment.”
The Marquise, blushing deeply, sketched a gesture of refusal. Suddenly, however, to the amazement of the audience, she stood up, and assumed the decided and slightly Machiavellian expression of Dr. Fortin, while the latter sat down, with an attentive expression.
“That’s prodigious!” someone exclaimed.
“She looks just like Fortin!”
“It’s sorcery!”
“Shh! The Marquise is speaking!”
Indeed, Madame de Virmile continued Fortin’s speech at the point where he had left off:
“The soul moves. A mysterious fluid, it never ceases to exist, without concern for the body that it inhabits and animates. If the body dies, it abandons it and seeks a new envelope. Thus it is with all fluids. An electric current is imprisoned in a long copper wire. A simple contact, a discharge, liberates the fluid from that conductive wire to escape into the air or the earth. In the air, accumulated at the poles of a cloud, it becomes lightning, a thunderbolt, and descends again, in that form or another, captured by a new conductor. Thus, nothing dies; everything evolves, is transformed. Matte returns to what it has been: humus. Living bodies fall to the ground, decompose, and turn to dust, but fecund dust in
which new lives germinate.”
At that moment, the Marquise stopped short and sat down. Immediately, it was a venerable member of the Académie, the chemist Bernardet, who stood up to continue the lecture. He was seen to be rejuvenated by twenty years, while the Marquise took on the weary air of an old man. Through the mouth of the chemist Bernardet, however, Fortin was still speaking:
“You have been able to judge, Mesdames et Messieurs, the docility of a fluid, of a soul, of which a part has passed successively from the brain of Dr. Fortin into the brain of Madame de Virmile and into that of the illustrious Bernardet. Let us recap: the intelligence of Madame Virmile is resident in Dr. Fortin’s brain, and Bernardet’s is resident in the Marquise’s brain, while I, Fortin, am presently animating the body of my friend Bernardet.”
The members of the audience looked at one another anxiously, for they were wondering, nervously, where these demonstrations would stop. The confident attitude of Fortin, however, convinced them that things would easily be restored to order when he decided to do so.
The spectacle of the trio, however, was enough to provoke apprehensions: Dr. Fortin was sitting down and arranging around himself an imaginary dress, while the Marquise picked up a corner of her scarf wearily in order to mop her brow and cranium, thus disturbing the entire expert edifice of a complicated coiffure; Bernardet, meanwhile, was stroking his chin with a gesture habitual to Fortin.
The doctor hastened to conclude by making a new transposition. With his hands placed on the table and his fingers going back and forth like those of an electrician pressing the buttons of a switchboard distributing lights, he seemed thus to be directing, with the gestures of a typist, the entire scene that was fascinating the anxious Académie and amusing the troubled public.
“However,” he said, “this does not prove, as yet, that we are on the road to the immortality of the soul. These exteriorizations are too similar to those produced during sleep, in which our souls can lead several existences in a matter of hours. But I am only at the beginning of my research, and I hope that, in the near future, the mystery will have yielded further secrets.”
He was obliged to stop: that interchange of intelligences, of souls, was threatening to create misunderstandings of a nature too amusing for the austerity of the location. In fact, while he completed his lecture, the chemist and the Marquise, placed side by side, were looking at one another with astonishment. The Marquise, wanting to make use of her lorgnette, put Bernardet’s watch to her eye, while the famous chemist, thinking that he was mopping his forehead, continued to forage in the Marquise’s coiffure.
Quickly, the doctor hastened to repair the confusion of intelligences by carrying out the mutation necessary to the harmony of the individuals. Fortin’s two victims immediately resumed their ordinary personalities, without having the slightest idea of what had just happened.
As he returned to the stage, Dr. Fortin had something of the air of a conjurer who has just performed his tricks. He was smiling, visibly satisfied with the admiration of the public and the alarm of his colleagues. Like a performer of genius, he looked at the assembly and concluded: “That, Mesdames et Messieurs, is only one small aspect of the formidable problem that is posed to us, of which the sole objective, the only interest for us, is to discover what becomes of our personal fluid, our soul, after death. Does it return, like the matter, to the great All, or does it conserve its personality—which is to say, without all the confusion of human actions, at least the progress acquired scientifically and mentally.
“Now, this is the conclusion of my research, at the point that we have presently, reached, which is only the first step in the mystery. The human spirit passes from life to death as it goes from wakefulness to sleep. Have you tried to specify the absolute moment of that transition? It’s impossible. It is, however, repeated every day. Thus, the intellectual fluid escapes life and passes into a new state. What happens to it?
“If it were a substance, even a gas, it would obey the physical laws of the Earth and obey, among others, the law of gravity, and would continue an evolution on the globe. As a fluid, however, it escapes that law and remains, in the universe, at the point where it is at the moment of death—which is to say that the Earth, carried away by its velocity of almost a hundred thousand kilometers an hour, continues in its course through space and that the soul, nor longer obedient, as a fluid to the laws of gravity and attraction, remains at the point in the Universe where it was at the exact moment of death, of the separation of the fluid soul from the material body.
“Can you imagine the human soul, placed thus, without transition, in the environment of astronomical space? If it is not prepared, by a profound study of sidereal phenomena, for the splendid flight through the worlds, then, mad with terror, it might returns to its cradle and easily find a new incarnation on this globe, recommencing a new terrestrial existence. If, on the contrary, by virtue of the knowledge of great stellar laws, it is on the path of progress, it might disdain our Earth, and go elsewhere in search of new sensations and a gradual spiritual elevation.9
“This, Mesdames et Messieurs, is all that we ought to say to you today: that the soul is a fluid, manipulable, thanks to science, like other fluids. That is very little. Let us hope that, among the multitude of scientists occupied with the question, one of the more fortunate will discover the key to the obsessive mystery...”
A thunder of applause underlined those final words, and the doctor descended in the midst of a general ovation. He increasingly resembled a clown who had just astonished a circus, but no one was unaware of the elevated and marvelous thought hidden behind his smile. Rapidly, he shook a few complimentary hands, and went out immediately.
Outside, a group of snobs of both sexes, seduced by his picturesque and legendary status, were waiting to acclaim him. Ordinary people who were passing by, having heard his name pronounced, had also stopped, and they all formed a temporary crowd, bizarre and enthusiastic, typically Parisian.
A tall dark-haired man in a nicely-tailored jacket and a silk hat that was very chic in its design and shine, of aristocratic appearance, with extraordinarily beautiful and fascinating eyes, was in the process of accompanying to her auto a very elegant young woman, Comtesse Simone d’Armez, and a cameraman was in the process of filming their departure for the benefit of Gaumont cinemas.
“Au revoir, Madame,” said the superb cavalier, who seemed to be continuing and concluding a flirtation—his bold and magical gaze was going straight to its target and penetrating it easily, like an invisible and powerful desire. “Without any need for other words, you can read my profound admiration in my eyes, a bientôt, lovely Comtesse. I shall be close to you in spirit—and, in truth, closer than you think and more intimately than you imagine.”
But Jean Fortin appeared. Numerous hands were extended toward him. Disengaging himself with difficulty, he was getting ready to climb into a car when he stopped and shuddered; the tall man with satanic eyes bowed to him. Fortin ran toward him.
“Marc Vanel! You, here! I recognized your ardent eyes immediately!”
Their hands gripped effusively. The gentleman with the demonic eyes explained: “Master, I was among those who were listening to you jut now, and am impassioned, as I was before, when I was your pupil...”
“My best pupil! How long ago that was! But where did you spring from? Everyone thought you were dead?”
At that moment, Dr. Fortin perceived that the man with the extraordinary eyes was not alone. A person of modest appearance was standing beside him. Clad in a light suit, with the jacket buttoned up, he was not attracting much attention, seeming somewhat paltry beside the bronzed athlete whose presence was dominating his. Nevertheless, the small man’s eyes were shining intensely in a slightly swarthy face, in which one sensed an obscure valor. Dr. Fortin was too observant not to notice that silent, grave and self-effacing individual.
Vanel made the introductions. “Comrade Tchitcherine, commissar attached to the Soviet Ministry of F
oreign Affairs, in Paris incognito.”
The foreigner bowed. “I salute you humbly, Master.”
Dr. Fortin was impressed. “Well, since, in finding one friend, I’m collecting two, you’ll do me the pleasure of dining with me! Good, it’s agreed—I’ll take you away. I know someone who’ll be delighted to see you.”
“Your daughter. How is Jeanne?”
“Astonishing! Compared with her, I’m nothing, my dear friend—yes, nothing but a weakling.”
“I’ll be delighted to see her again,” said Dr. Vanel, slightly emotional at the memory of the distant past—of his entire youth—that was rising in his heart.
“And you’ll also find Garnier. Alexandre Garnier, the professor whose lessons you loved is a highly-respected practitioner today, and makes a great deal of money—he’s gone to the bad!—but his son Georges, with whom you once kept company, is collaborating with us...oh, it gives me great pleasure to see you again!”
A splendid limousine had drawn up at the sidewalk. Vanel said a few rapid words to the Hindu chauffeur, whose bronzed face with ascetic features was surrounded by a silk turban, and whose ears were ornamented by gold rings; the latter got out and opened the door. The scientist, followed by his two guests, climbed into the automobile, which drew away and immediately sped in the direction of the Porte de Saint-Cloud.
It carried away three men seemingly similar, and yet very different. One, Fortin, had just been striving, so to speak, to Renanise,10 physically and quasi-materially, the problem of souls. The second, the ardent Russian communist, was synthesizing, very clearly, the vague aspirations of a great human mass, muted and inert: a nation long immobilized in age-old decrepitude, which had proclaimed in Moscow, with Lenin and his comrades in folly, the republic of the wretched. As for the third, Dr. Vanel, more powerful and more Mephistophelean in appearance, with aggressive, mysterious and hallucinating eyes, he had something of the magician and sorcerer about him.
Homo-Deus Page 3
