CHAPTER XXVII.
THE FACE THAT CAME IN DREAMS.
Virdow was not a scientist in the strict sense of the term. He had beena fairly good musician in youth and had advanced somewhat in art. He wasone of those modern scientists, who are not walled in by pastconclusions, but who, like Morse, leap forward from a vantage point andbuild back to connect with old results. Early in life he had studied thelaws of vibration, until it seemed revealed to him that all forms, allfancies, were born of it. Gradually as his beautiful demonstrations weremade and all art co-ordinated upon this law, he saw in dreams afulfillment of his hopes that in his age, in his life, might bloom thefairest flower of science, a mind memory opened to mortal consciousness.
Dreaming further along the lines of Wagner, it had come to him that thekey to this hidden, dumb and sleeping record of the mind was vibration;that the strains of music which summon beautiful dreams to the minds ofmen were magic wands lifting the vision of this past; not its immediatepast, but the past of ages; for in the brain of the subtle German wasfirmly fixed the belief that the minds of men were in their lastanalysis one and indivisible, and older than the molecules of physicalcreation.
He held triumphantly that "then shall you see clearly," was but one wayof saying "then shall you remember."
To this man the mind picture which Gerald had drawn, the church, withits tragic figures, came as a reward of generations of labor. He hadfollowed many a false trail and failed in hospital and asylum. In Geraldhe hoped for a sound, active brain, combined with the faculty ofexpression in many languages and the finer power of art; an organismsufficiently delicate to carry into that viewless vinculum between bodyand soul, vibrations, rhymes and co-ordinations delicate enough to toucha new consciousness and return its reply through organized form. He hadfound these conditions perfect, and he felt that if failure was theresult, while still firmly fixed in his belief, never again wouldopportunity of equal merit present itself. If in Gerald his theoryfailed of demonstration, the mind's past would be, in his lifetime,locked to his mortal consciousness. In brief he had formed theconditions so long sought and upon these his life's hope was staked.
Much of this he stated as they sat in the wing-room. Gerald lay upon thedivan when he began talking, lost in abstraction, but as the theory ofthe German was gradually unfolded Edward saw him fix his bright eye uponthe speaker, saw him becoming restless and excited. When the explanationended he was walking the floor.
"Experiments with frogs," he said, abruptly; "accidents to the humanbrain and vivisection have proved the separateness of memory andconsciousness. But I shall do better; I shall give to the world acomplete picture descended from parent to child--an inherited brainpicture of which the mind is thoroughly conscious." His listeners waitedin breathless suspense; both knew to what he referred. "But," he added,shaking his head, "that does not carry us out of the material world."
His ready knowledge of this subject and its quick grasp of theproposition astonished Virdow beyond expression.
"Go on," he said, simply.
"When that fusion of mind and matter occurs," said Gerald, positively;"when the consciousness is put in touch with the mind's unconsciousmemory there will be no pictures seen, no records read; we shall simplybroaden out, comprehend, understand, grasp, know! That is all! It willnot come to the world, but to individuals, and, lastly, it has alreadycome! Every so called original thought that dawns upon a human, everyintuitive conception of the truth, marks the point where mind yieldedsomething of a memory to human consciousness."
The professor moved uneasily in his seat; both he and Edward wereoverwhelmed with the surprise of the demonstration that behind the sadenvironment of this being dwelt a keen, logical mind. The speaker pausedand smiled; his attention was not upon his company.
"So," he said, softly, "come the song into the mind of the poet, so theharmonies to the singer and so the combination of colors to the artist;so the rounded periods of oratory and so the conception that makesinvention possible. No facts appear, because facts are the results oflaws, the proofs of truths. The mind-memory carries none of these; itcarries laws and the truth which interprets it all; and when men canhold their consciousness to the touch of mind without a falling apart,they will stand upon the plane of their Creator, because they will thenbe fully conscious of the eternal laws and in harmony with them."
"And you," said Virdow, greatly affected, "have you ever felt the unionof consciousness and mind-memory?"
"Yes," he replied; "what I have said is the truth; for it came from aninner consciousness without previous determination and intention. I amright, and you know I am right!" Virdow shook his head.
"I have hoped," he said, gently, "that in this mind-memory dweltpictures. We shall see, we shall see." Gerald turned away impatientlyand threw himself upon his couch. Presently in the silence which ensuedrose the solemn measure of Mendelssohn's heart-beat march from Edward'sviolin. The strange, sad, depressing harmony filled the room; evenVirdow felt its wonderful power and sat mute and disturbed. Suddenly hehappened to gaze toward Gerald. He lay with ashen face and rigid eyesfixed upon the ceiling, to all appearances a corpse. Virdow boundedforward and snatched the bow from Edward's hand.
"Stop!" he cried; "for his sake stop, or you will kill him!"
They dragged the inanimate form to the window and bathed the face. A lowmoan escaped the young man, and then a gleam of intelligence came intohis eyes. He tried to speak, but without success; an expression ofsurprise and distress came upon his face as he rose to his feet. For amoment he stood gasping, but presently his breath came normally.
"Temporary aphasia," he said, in a low tone. Going to the easel he drewrapidly the picture of a woman kneeling above the prostrate form ofanother, and stood contemplating it in silence. Edward and Virdow cameto his side, the latter pale with excitement. Gerald did not noticethem. Only the back of the kneeling woman was shown, but the face of theother was distinct, calm and beautiful. It was the girl in the smallpicture.
"That face--that face," he whispered. "Alas! I see it only as myancestors saw it." He resumed his lounge dejectedly.
"You have seen it before, then?" said Virdow, earnestly.
"Before! In my dreams from childhood! It is a face associated with mealways. In the night, when the wind blows, I hear a voice callingGerald, and this vision comes. Shall I tell you a secret--" His voicehad become lower and now was inaudible. Placing his hand upon the whitewrist, Virdow said:
"He sleeps; it is well. Come away, my young friend; I have learned much,but the experience might have been dearly bought. Sometime I willexplain." Noiselessly they withdrew to Edward's room. Edward wasdepressed.
"You have gained, but not I," he said. "The back of the kneeling womanwas toward him."
"Wait," said Virdow; "all things cannot be learned in a night. We do notknow who witnessed that scene."