Chapter I: Part 1

AMONG THE GNOMES

An Occult Tale of Adventure
in the Untersberg

BY
FRANZ HARTMANN, M.D.
AUTHOR OF “MAGIC BLACK AND WHITE,” “PARACELSUS,” ETC.

_ILLUSTRATED_

LONDON
T. FISHER UNWIN
PATERNOSTER SQUARE
1895

CONTENTS.

CHAP. PAGE

I. INTRODUCTION 1

II. IN THE DRAGON’S DEN 25

III. WITHIN THE UNTERSBERG 64

IV. AMONG THE GNOMES 114

V. AMONG THE GNOMES (_continued_) 137

VI. LUCIFER 168

VII. DIGGING FOR LIGHT 204

VIII. WAR 235

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

PAGE

THE PRINCESS ADALGA _Frontispiece_

THE HAUNTED CASTLE 1

THE CAVE 25

THE DRAGON’S DEN 27

THE SCIENTIFIC INVESTIGATION 52

THE GROTTO OF THE NYMPHS 64

HYPNOTIZED BY A MONKEY 114

THE DISCOVERY OF THE SUN 137

THE PALACE OF THE KING 143

THE TEMPLE OF LUCIFER 168

EDUCATING THE GNOMES 204

FAIRIES AND FLOWERS 235

I.

INTRODUCTION.

Who has ever occupied himself seriously with the investigation of the “night-side of Nature,” or studied the works of Theophrastus Paracelsus, and not become acquainted with the celebrated “Untersberg” (the “mountain of the lower world”) and its mysterious inhabitants, the fairies and gnomes? Like a gigantic outpost of the Austrian Alps, this snow-capped wing of the mountains stands on the frontier of Germany, overlooking the Bavarian plains, dotted with hills, forests, and lakes. Its summit, dwelling above the clouds, dominates the valley through which the Salzach river winds its way to the Inn and the Danube. Seen from the north side, where the city of Salzburg is nestled among the hills, the mountain looks tame enough, rising in undulating forest-covered lines up to a height of some seven thousand feet; but on the south side it exhibits an almost endless variety of perpendicular walls, formed of marble rocks thousands of feet high, and interrupted by deep ravines and chasms, craggy cliffs, spurs, and precipices, over which in the time of spring, when the snow begins to melt, great avalanches come thundering down, and a sharp eye may detect in many an inaccessible spot mysterious caves, that seem to penetrate into the bowels of that mysterious mountain. If you will take the trouble of climbing up to these dizzy heights, you will find yourself in a new world, for there the Untersberg appears not as one single mountain, but as a mountain chain, of which each separate link has its special aspect and character, being separated from its neighbour by deep chasms, through which the mountain streams rush. There is no end of waterfalls, caves and labyrinths of boulders, where the inexperienced wanderer may lose his way, especially if he is misled by the gnomes--which may easily occur if his intentions are not pure.

The Untersberg is known to be inhabited by certain kinds of elemental spirits of Nature, some of which are good and benevolent, others of a wicked and malicious nature, and inimical to mankind; and there are innumerable tales circulating among the people in the neighbourhood, telling about the doings of the gnomes, fairies, wild women, and giants, dwelling within caves and in gorgeous marble halls and grottoes filled with gold and precious stones that will turn into dead leaves and stones when seen in the light of day. Some of the friendly tribes come out of the Untersberg on certain occasions, and they are said to have sometimes associated with the inhabitants of our plane of existence, partaking in the dances and amusements of the peasants, and even taking stray children with them into the Untersberg; and, incredible as it may appear, it is even asserted by “those who know” that marriages have taken place between citizens of our world and the inhabitants of the kingdom of gnomes, and that these spirits of Nature, being themselves not immortal, seek to obtain immortality by their union with immortal man. The majority of the gnomes, therefore, also love plain, truthful, and unsophisticated human beings, such as possess a soul in which the light of the immortal spirit may be perceived, and with these they are ready to associate; but with soulless beings, such as sophisticated, sceptical, arrogant, short-sighted and opinionated scientists, whose hearts are dead, and whose brains are swollen with the products of their own fancy, they will have nothing to do; to such they never show themselves, but love to play tricks upon them whenever they come with a view of invading their kingdom.

Of course it is known to everybody that within the mysterious depths of the Untersberg there dwells the soul of a great emperor in his astral form. There, together with his retinue, he sleeps an enchanted sleep, waiting for the liberation of his country. Sometimes very suddenly, even on a clear summer day, clouds are seen to issue from the sides of the mountain; grotesquely-formed ghost-like mists arise from caverns and precipices, crawling and gliding slowly upwards toward the top, and from the neighbouring peaks also clouds of monstrous shapes and sometimes of gigantic proportions come floating on, until the head of the Untersberg is surrounded by a surging sea of vapours growing dense and dark. Then a clap of thunder reverberates through the rocks, awakening hundreds of echoes, and forked streaks of lightning flash down into the valley; the storm-king arises, howling dismally through the forest, breaking down old trees and hurling them into the precipices below. On such occasions the people in the valleys piously make the sign of the cross, and whisper to each other: “The great emperor has awakened and is reviewing his troops. He is angry because he sees that the black ravens are still flying around the top of the Untersberg.” This, of course, I hold to be a fable, and the “emperor in the Untersberg” is well known to the wise; but as to the dark birds referred to, they are typified by certain black-robed and stiff-necked gentlemen, whom you may frequently meet. The liberation for which the emperor waits also seems to me not that from any foreign yoke, but the redemption from selfishness with its consequent evils. Poor emperor! You may have to wait still another thousand years in the world of the gnomes before you will be able to resume control over your kingdom. Sleep in peace! The time will not seem to you long; for it is not you who suffers, and there is no measurement of time during sleep or in eternity.

Owing to the increase of modern culture, and its accompanying sophistry and scepticism, visible intercourse with the gnomes has become of comparatively rare occurrence, especially because their kindness has often been abused and their services misapplied, as the following story will show, which I may be permitted to insert, as it is not without bearing upon the events told in the succeeding chapters.

A short distance from the city of Salzburg, and upon a hill covered by a forest of pines, there stood in ancient times the castle of Tollenstein, of which now only some remnants are left. The walls are in ruins, but these go to show that formerly they were parts of a palatial building. One remnant composed of huge square stones still indicates the extent of the large banqueting-hall, where festivals took place; and it is said that on certain nights the orgies which these stones witnessed are spectrally repeated and enacted in the astral light by the ghost-like shapes of deceased ladies and knights; while not far off there is a dilapidated tower of massive structure, enclosing a deep hole in the ground, where the subterranean dungeon was located--the “_oubliette_” or living tomb, in which poor wretches for some offence were buried alive and “forgotten,” left to starve or suffocate. It is said that, during the nights when the ghosts in the banqueting-hall hold gruesome carousals, cries and groans and wails may be heard coming from the bottom of that well. These things I do not find difficult to believe; for we often find similar instances of the proximity of luxury and misery among the living in this our material world.

In ancient times the owner of the castle was Burkhart von Tollenstein, a youthful and valorous knight, admired by all the ladies in the country on account of the voluminous mass of golden hair which adorned his head. This, together with his manliness and beauty, gained for him the hearts of all those fair ladies, except one, and this was the very one for whose possession he craved, namely, the very beautiful but proud Julia von Horst.

He had seen her only once, but that was enough to make him fall desperately in love with her face and figure. He had been happy enough until he was so unfortunate as to have the tranquillity of his heart destroyed by the sight of her dark and languishing eyes. From that time forward an image of the beautiful Julia was formed in his mind, whose contemplation absorbed him so that he thought of nothing else; henceforth nothing but the thought of Julia had any attraction for him. He sought to woo and to win the ideal of his thoughts; but alas! his sighs and tears were all in vain, for his home was poor, and the proud Julia cared far more for money than for love! She knew that Burkhart’s fortune was too small to supply her with all the luxuries she desired; therefore, when he offered her his heart, she rejected it, and sneeringly said:

“Of what use will be your heart to me, if starvation waits for me in your home?”

This offensive remark was more than a knight of these times was able to bear in patience, and Burkhart, cursing his poverty, went home in despair. From day to day he became more and more morose and melancholy, grieving on account of the insufficiency of his means. At last he determined to enrich himself by whatever means he might find, and resolved to rob the gnomes of the Untersberg of their treasures.

In these times it was customary for almost everybody to have a wise and faithful steward ready to give good advice. Burkhart’s steward did his best to dissuade the knight from this wicked and dangerous undertaking; but in vain did old Bruno, for this was his name, entreat him to desist from evil thoughts, and to forget the proud Julia, as she was entirely unworthy of his affection. The knight would not listen.

“The Lord be merciful to you!” exclaimed Bruno. “Shake off this delusion, O noble knight; think of your high descent and what your ancestors would say. Look upwards, to where your salvation rests; the spirits of the lower world will mislead and ruin you.”

But the knight answered, “I am not a coward. I am not afraid of losing my life, which is worthless to me without the possession of Julia. More than once I have looked into the face of death while engaged in battle. I want the gold of the gnomes, and must have it, let the consequences be what they may. If the gnomes are not willing to surrender their gold, I shall take it by force.”

Thus spurning good advice, the knight gave orders that his black war-horse be brought forth. This he bestrode, and trotted towards the Untersberg.

It was a gloomy evening in November; the leaves of the trees had turned yellow and red, and rustled in the wind, and their voices seemed to warn him not to proceed, while the waving boughs motioned to him to return. Soon the queen of the night began to spread her mantle over the face of the earth, and there arose in the gloom, like a gigantic shadow, the outlines of the mysterious Untersberg. For a moment fear overcame the youth, and he stopped; but his desire overcame his fear, and pronouncing an oath he spurred his horse, determined to push on. Just then the horse shied, and, looking up, Burkhart saw sitting by the roadside a dwarf clothed in a steel-blue gown. The dwarf looked steadily with glittering eyes at the knight.

“Avaunt!” exclaimed Burkhart angrily. “What are you sitting here and frightening my horse for?”

“Ho! ho!” laughed the dwarf. “Know, you creeping worm of the earth, I am Pypo, the king of the gnomes. Mine is the Untersberg with its treasures. What have you to seek in my territory?”

When Burkhart heard these words he deemed it prudent to speak politely to the king of the gnomes. He therefore explained to him his situation, and asked for the loan of a sum of money, for which he promised his everlasting gratitude.

The king groaned. “Confound your gratitude,” he said; “there would be plenty of wretches like you coming to borrow money from me, if it could be had at such a cheap price.”

“What then do you demand?” asked the knight. “State your terms, and I will accept them, for I must have gold at any price!”

“Listen then,” said the gnome; “it is not much that I ask. Only one hair from your head for each thousand of florins.” Thus saying, his eyes rested searchingly upon the face of the knight.

“Only one hair from my head?” exclaimed Burkhart in great astonishment. “A whole lot of hair you shall have, and be welcome, if you only furnish me the money necessary for obtaining the favour of Julia.”

“I am putting no limits to the amount you may draw,” laughed the king. “For each thousand of florins which you receive from me you will have to leave me one hair from your head.”

“It is a bargain!” exclaimed the knight joyfully, and, drawing his dagger, he was about to proceed to cut a lock of hair from his forehead to offer it to the king.

“Not so,” said Pypo. “Only one hair at a time, and I will have to pull it out myself by the root.”

So the knight dismounted, and as he bent down the dwarf tore a single hair from his scalp, after which he threw a bag of gold at Burkhart’s feet.

“Thanks!” exclaimed the knight, as he hugged the bag and gloated over its contents.

“No thanks are wanted,” replied the gnome; “see to it that the hairs upon your head will not become too few in time to purchase enough gold for satisfying the greed of your Julia.”

So saying the gnome vanished; but the knight returned with his bag of gold to the castle. He now at once began to enlarge and improve his house in exquisite style; he bought costly furniture and ornaments, hired servants and cooks, sent out invitations for dinners and balls, and every evening he went to the Untersberg for another bag of gold, leaving in return one of his hairs.

Soon the news of the riches of Burkhart von Tollenstein began to spread, and everybody wondered and came to see and admire the luxury displayed by the knight. Now the consent of Julia was easily gained, and before many days the walls of the castle resounded with gay music, merry-making, and laughter; for the marriage of the valorous knight with the beautiful countess took place. All the nobility in the country were invited, and took part in the revel.

Henceforth the castle of Tollenstein became the scene of an uninterrupted succession of festivities of all kinds; there was a merry-go-round, and the doors of the house were open day and night to visitors. Parasites of all kinds peopled the castle. Dinners, dances, masquerades, tournaments, theatrical performances and hunting excursions followed each other without end, and the beautiful Julia had the sweet satisfaction of being surrounded by flatterers and admirers to her heart’s content; but her desires grew in proportion as they were gratified, her vanity in proportion as it was tickled: her whims were incalculable, but the resources of her husband seemed to be inexhaustible, and he was an object of envy to everyone.

More and more frequent grew his visits to the Untersberg, from each of which he returned with a thousand florins in gold, but with one less hair from his head; and for all that, he seemed not to be happy, for he saw only too clearly that he had bought only the appearance of love, and that his wife loved not him but only his money; and whenever he did not at once comply with her unreasonable and extravagant demands, she would treat him with contempt, so as to render life a burden to him. All this caused him a great deal of grief, which he sought to drown in the wine-cup. Thus he became at last a confirmed drunkard and an object of disgust. All the evil germs in his nature began to grow luxuriantly and to bear fruit. He became a weakling, a cruel tyrant towards his subjects, an abject coward in the presence of his wife, who treated him as if he were a slave. His troubles caused him to grow prematurely old, and the hair upon his head grew thinner from day to day.

Thus a few years passed away in great misery, and at last poor Burkhart was entirely bald-headed. The last florin was gone; but the countess had ordered a great tournament and dinner, to which many noblemen and ladies of rank were invited. Once more Burkhart went to the Untersberg for the purpose of asking the king of the gnomes for money; but no more hair did he have to give in return. The gnome appeared, and the knight, removing his helmet, showed him the deplorable condition of his scalp, hoping to arouse the pity of the king.

“Ah, Burkhart!” exclaimed Pypo; “did I not tell you to beware that your hairs may not become too few?”

“I now see my folly,” sighed the knight; “but for pity’s sake let me have only one more bag of gold, to save myself from disgrace.”

“Ha! ha!” laughed the gnome. “Nothing brings nothing. No hair, no money; our bargain is at a end!”

“Ask what you will!” cried the knight; “but hair I have no more to give. Take my soul; but give me only one bag of money. Only one bag of gold I am asking of you!”

But in vain Burkhart implored the gnome. Pypo was inexorable, and laughed at him. This exasperated Burkhart, and becoming enraged, he cried: “Hell-hound! you have completed your devilish work. With each hair that you took from my head you robbed me of a part of my manhood. Now I recognise you as the fiend that you are. Give me back my lost energy. Give me back the beautiful golden hair of which you have despoiled me by means of your accursed gold. Give it back to me, or look out for the revenge of the Tollensteins!”

But the gnome laughed. “Fool!” he said; “do you wish to frighten me? Would you now curse the one from whom you received all that you wanted? I laugh at you and your threats; but if you wish your hair returned, be it so!”

So saying the gnome drew forth a cord twisted from Burkhart’s hair, and threw it at the feet of the knight. He then disappeared within the depths of the Untersberg, while from all sides a mocking laughter shook the air, as if coming from a multitude of invisible spectators; but the knight went home and locked himself up in his bedroom.

At the castle of Tollenstein everything was in readiness for the beginning of the great tournament. Knights in glittering armour and ladies in costly dresses were thronging the halls; while in the courtyard below richly decked steeds, attended by grooms in bright colours, neighed and stamped the ground, impatient for the opening of the sham fight; for the beginning of which nothing was now needed but the presence of the host. The trumpets sounded, but nothing was seen of Burkhart. Repeatedly were messengers sent to his room, but they found the door locked and were not admitted. At last Julia, losing her patience, went up with clenched fists to inquire about the cause of this delay, but her knocks at the door elicited no reply. She therefore ordered the door to be forced open, and then a ghastly sight met her eyes. Burkhart von Tollenstein was lying dead on his bed, his features distorted as if he had died in great agony; around his neck was tied a cord of yellow human hair, with which he had been strangled; his eyes were protruding as if starting from their sockets; while his fingers were spasmodically closed around a bag containing one thousand florins in gold. This was the end of the Tollensteins.

And now the excuses for writing the following tale:

If this story of Burkhart of Tollenstein had never been exhumed from the archives containing the family histories of the ancient knights of the Duchy of Salzburg, the following chapters would never have been written; for it was the discovery of these reliable documents which recalled to my memory the history told to me by my now deceased friend, Mr Schneider, who was himself a participant in the adventure which I am about to describe.

It appears that, long after the death of Burkhart von Tollenstein, three very learned gentlemen, having heard of that story, arrived from some far-off country--presumably from the dark continent. Being of a very sceptical turn of mind, they did not believe in gnomes, and had undertaken their journey for the purpose of disproving the existence of the spirits of Nature. They belonged to a scientific Society, whose object was the abolition of the supernatural, and to sober up mankind by drawing away their attention from all sorts of ideals, and bring them back to the dry and hard facts of material life. That Society had already accomplished a great deal of important work. They had by a certain system of logic disproved the existence of God, spirit and soul, and shown that all that is called life or consciousness is nothing else but the result of friction brought on by the mechanical motion of molecules of dead matter accidentally coming into contact with each other. The three gentlemen with whom we shall directly become acquainted were appointed by the Society for the Abolition of the Supernatural as a committee, for the purpose of giving the last death-blow to the superstitious belief in spirits and gnomes, and arrived for that purpose. They were firmly determined that the belief in anything that could not be seen by means of corporeal eyes, or grasped with fingers of flesh, should be relegated into the garret, where antiquated superstitions are stowed away.

After due consultation, these gentlemen resolved to make a scientific expedition to one of the caves of the Untersberg, reported to be haunted; and Mr Schneider, being then a young and vigorous man, well acquainted with the topography of the mountain, was invited to accompany them. The excursion took place on the day preceding St John’s, it being the 23rd of June; but the date of the year escaped my memory. The adventures which Mr Schneider experienced are told by him in the following pages.

II.

IN THE DRAGON’S DEN.

About a thousand feet below the summit of the Untersberg, and not very far from the top of one of its spurs, that reaches out into the valley through which runs the limpid stream coming from the renowned lake called the “Koenigsee,” there is a spacious cave, within an almost perpendicular slope of rocks, several hundred feet in height. This cave or hole, called the “Dragon’s Den,” is large enough for affording shelter to a whole herd of cattle, and high enough so that a good-sized church, steeple and all, might be put therein. Its roof is formed by an overhanging rock (as is shown in our picture), and the hole extends like a tunnel from one side of the hill to the other; so that if seen from below it appears like an archway through which the sky and the stars on the other side may be seen.

This den is said to have been inhabited in ancient times by a villainous dragon of a very peculiar kind, having no conscience, reason, or common sense, but being exceedingly selfish. His greatest pleasure was to dissect and analyse everything, and to destroy all that was of an ideal nature; to tear the clothes away from everything exalted and beautiful for the purpose of exposing bare facts. These he liked so well, that he imagined the bones of every creature were its only essential parts; so he tore the flesh of his victims away and devoured their bones. From the altitude of his den he would overlook both sides of the hill, and whenever he saw a pretty maiden wandering among the rocks in search of the Alpine rose or the Edelweiss, he would pounce upon her, drag her to his den, dissect her, and strip her of all flesh, and devour the bones piece by piece. It is said that later on the dragon emigrated into the valley, but his den was selected by the committee for the investigation concerning the non-existence of gnomes.

Before we proceed further, it will be necessary to introduce the reader to our friends. There was, first of all, Professor Thomas Cracker, a member of nearly all scientific societies in the world, a great sceptic, who, by a long course of scientifically training his imagination, had acquired such a degree of scientific scepticism that he always knew everything without taking the trouble of looking at it. There was no fact in Nature for which he had not invented a theory; and if the theory did not fit it, so much the worse for the facts. He had become celebrated; because, owing to his superior sagacity, and after years of persevering study, he had succeeded in discovering that a certain book entitled “Little Alice in Wonderland,” was only a fable, not based upon historical facts, and whose object was to bamboozle the ignorant and take in unwary and gullible people. Owing to the great merit obtained by this work the honour and title of a member of the Academy was bestowed upon him.

Mr Cracker’s father had been the keeper of a variety shop, and was in the habit of ignoring and treating with contempt everything that was not of his own manufacture or kept in his shop. Nevertheless, among the good articles which he kept for sale, there were many things that had gone out of fashion. These he used to fit up in a new style, varnish and paint them over, give them new labels with modern names, and advertise them as something brand new. Thus he did a good trade and gained a reputation.

Professor Cracker, junior, resembled his father to a dot, only he traded in less tangible goods. He also was in the habit of ignoring and treating with contempt everything that did not agree with the theories that were manufactured by himself or his colleagues; nevertheless there were among his articles of creed certain doctrines taught centuries ago, but having gone out of fashion. These he used to take down from the garret where they had been forgotten, dress them up in modern style, varnish them over with modern expressions, label them with newly invented names, and advertise them as brand-new discoveries, or goods of his own invention. In this way Professor Cracker traded in science and gained a reputation.

The next was the Reverend Jeremiah Stiffbone, a clergyman, who had received from his congregation a liberal amount of money to enable him to travel in search of the truth that could not be found at home. Mr Stiffbone was well versed in all sorts of authorities, and able to quote almost any number of books in support of almost any opinion, for he knew the contents of many scientific and religious writings,--that is to say, he knew what was written therein; but as to his knowledge in regard to the subjects themselves, it would be difficult to decide what it was; for he one day believed in this and the next day in another author’s veracity, and the one into whom he put his faith was for the time being to him the only infallible one. Thus he stumbled along upon the path of wisdom, falling from one opinion into another like a person in a state of intoxication. It should not be supposed, however, that Jeremiah loved this state of uncertainty and wavering. What he wanted, above all, was to establish a scientific and religious system that could be fully depended on as being true and reliable, and containing articles and scientific doctrines which everyone would have to accept as true, and go to sleep quietly, being firmly convinced that the opinions therein were the final dictates of science, incontrovertible, not subject to improvement, and fully correct.

As to the external appearance of the above-named two gentlemen, Professor Cracker was of short stature, thickly set, with a rubicund face, smoothly shaven, except a pair of grey side-whiskers. His little eyes continually wandered restlessly from one object to another, his arms were unusually long, but his legs short and bow-shaped, and all this somehow contributed to give him the appearance of a Mandril (_Cynocephalus Maimon_), as may be said without giving offence to the Professor; for he was himself firmly of the opinion that the whole of man had descended from the ape. He even looked with satisfaction upon his long line of ancestors, and prided himself on having become somehow superior to them in the art of reasoning, if not in bodily strength.

As to the Reverend Stiffbone, he seemed the reverse of Professor Cracker. He was thin and tall, looking like a collection of bones of some antediluvian bird. His features were sharp, his head almost bald, and his mouth wide, while his chin and nose were long and protruding, as if they were trying to meet each other. Upon his nose he wore a pair of green goggles of great size, causing him to appear not unlike an owl; but his nose and chin gave him a resemblance to one of the well-known wooden nut-crackers, which are manufactured in the city of Nuremberg, and are the delight of the children all over the world.

Finally, there was Moses Abraham Scalawag, Esq., the commercial business manager of the expedition. His external appearance went to show that he was not much of an idealist, but preferred the good and material things of this life, and had no aversion to a certain kind in spirits. Although he denounced the belief in hobgoblins, ghosts, gnomes, etc., as a degraded superstition, he somehow thought that, if the story of Burkhart von Tollenstein were true, it might be worth the while to investigate the financial condition of the gnomes in the Untersberg.

We were accompanied by a guide, carrying our provisions and scientific instruments. This guide was a direct descendant of the reputed Lazarus Gitschner, who in the year 1529 spent ten days among the gnomes in the Untersberg. We attempted to draw him out, but the guide would not reveal what his ancestor had seen during that visit; nor is this surprising, for Lazarus himself never revealed it to anybody except to the priest in the confessional. All that has become known about it is, that he came out of the Untersberg a man entirely changed from what he was before he went in, and the priest also, after hearing the confession, became very much changed himself, even so that he left off playing ninepins on Sunday morning, led a retired life, and died not long afterwards in the odour of sanctity.

Bright was the day, and the earth looked refreshed from the morning dew that still rested upon the daffodils and ferns, where it glittered in the light of the sun like so many small diamonds. The air was fragrant from the odour of pines and wild thyme, and the breeze carried up from the valley an aroma of new-mown hay. Peacefully grazed the goats upon the sides of a hill, from which rushed a small cataract in a thousand cascades, while an air of tranquillity and solemnity rested upon the scene below, interrupted only by the tolling of the bell in the distant village church, which sounded harmoniously into the solitude.

Of all this, however, our members of the committee saw, heard, smelt, and knew nothing; for each was absorbed in his own thoughts. Professor Cracker moved slowly on, carrying his wig on his walking-stick over his shoulder, and revelling in the anticipation of the glory which the annihilation of the gnome theory would bring upon him. The Rev. Stiffbone’s long coat-tails fluttered in the wind as he marched on, taking long strides upon the uneven path, and his thoughts were absorbed in the prospect of being able to add another incontrovertible doctrine in regard to the non-existing of gnomes to his _Bible of Science_. Mr Scalawag wobbled along as well as he could, thinking nothing particular, but stopping frequently and wiping the sweat from his brow. At last he exclaimed:

“Confound these gnomes! Is it worth the while to climb up to that den and waste our valuable time in disproving that such animals exist?”

To this the Reverend Stiffbone replied:

“Gnomes are not animals, but imaginary beings. Theophrastus Paracelsus describes them as being intellectual forces in nature, whatever that may mean. They are about six inches in height, but able to change and to elongate their bodies.”

“But how can you determine their height,” asked Mr Scalawag, “if they are merely imaginary? You may just as well imagine them to be a thousand feet, if you try.”

“Rot!” interrupted Professor Cracker; for that was his favourite impression whenever anything was mentioned that was unknown to him. “Rot! there are no such things as intelligent forces of nature, neither imaginary ones nor others. This degrading superstition has now lasted long enough, and this day will make an end to such vagaries.”

“Are you then firmly convinced,” asked Mr Scalawag, rather dejectedly, “that the treasures of the gnomes in the Untersberg do not exist?”

“They exist only in the imagination of fools,” replied the Professor. “There can be no such thing as a spirit, as I shall demonstrate to you to-day by means of my new spiritoscope.”

“It is strange,” now remarked the Rev. Stiffbone, “that there are still some respectable authorities favouring such a superstitious belief. Even the Bible mentions the existence of spirits in more than one instance.”

“Rot!” replied the Professor. “There is no theory so absurd that it may not find admirers among otherwise intelligent people. Only think of the many fools who imagine it to be possible to make cars that are pulled by steam!”

“Do you then believe it to be absolutely impossible to make railways?” asked Mr Scalawag.

“Railways!” sneeringly exclaimed Cracker. “Rot! No man in his sane senses would ever think of such a thing. Steam can blow; but it cannot pull cars; if a steam-engine were invented, it would scald everybody to death. As to those eccentric and fanatical people who now fancy it possible to make a railway between Manchester and Liverpool, I have only to say that we, the scientists of this century, decline to waste our time in examining such wild and extravagant schemes. Even if the tales told in some of the newspapers were true, instead of being deplorable vagaries, and if it were possible to invent such an engine, it would not interest us, for surely nobody would be insane enough to trust his life and his safety to an engine going at the terrible speed of sixteen miles an hour! No, my dear sir! To make a railway is as impossible as that stones should fall from heaven; the reason of which impossibility the Academy of Science has pointed out, namely, because there are no stones in the sky.”

It may be observed that this conversation took place before the time when meteors were known and railways in action; at the present time such a display of scientific ignorance would of course be impossible.

“Suppose,” said the Rev. Stiffbone, “we admit for argument’s sake that a railway could be made on a level plain. What would they do if they were to come to a mountain? They would have to dig a hole through it, pass through it in the dark, and coming out at the other end the passengers would suddenly emerge into the light. This sudden change would undoubtedly strike them blind.”

“Undoubtedly it would,” added Professor Cracker, “unless they were to wear travelling-goggles for protection. You may however rest assured that, if railways could be made, we would have discovered it long ago, and the same may be said in regard to gnomes, ghosts, spirits, or intelligent forces of any kind. If there were such things we would know it.”

“How is it then possible,” I asked, “that the ancient philosophers believed such things?”

“To a layman like you,” answered the Professor, “such a question may be pardoned. The ancient philosophers were fools; they did not know as much as one of our schoolboys knows to-day. As to Lord Lytton, Goethe, and other more modern writers who spoke of such things, they only did so because they loved to make jokes for the amusement of the wise, and to have some fun at the expense of the gullible. We know that spirit without matter does not exist. Matter is visible; consequently the spirits would have to possess visible forms. We also know that no kind of living beings can exist within solid rocks, where they would be without water and air, and finally, if there were any intelligent forces in nature, they would know the importance of coming forward and proving their existence to men of science.”

I remarked that a belief in gnomes was quite common in this country, and asked whether this could be explained.

“Ridiculously easy!” said the Professor. “The sources of error are--inherited idiosyncrasies; a want of scientific training in making observations; subjective, objective, and epidemic hallucinations; credulity, hysteria, suggestion, dreams, hypnotism, post-hypnotic auto-suggestion, and so forth.”

“Nevertheless,” I objected, “there are those who have been touched by gnomes, have seen and conversed with them, received tangible objects from them.”

“Rot!” replied Cracker. “It is all due to wilful deception, humbug, swindle, trumpery, fraud, plagiarism, coincidence, telepathic impact, thought-transfer, unconscious cerebration, mediumship, sympathetic association of ideas, etc. Only recently I have discovered, after making a long research and consulting many authorities, that the accounts given in _Gulliver’s Travels_ were not based upon historical facts, but are only the products of the imagination of the author, who for thus imposing upon the credulity of the public, must be regarded as being one of the greatest cheats of his age. Fetch me a spirit or gnome, and let me dissect it to see of what it is made. Unless you do so, I say that it is nothing but rot, the product of the disordered fancy of a scientifically untrained brain.”

I did not quite agree with Cracker’s views, and I therefore said: “I believe that there are still people capable of telling a pigtail from a broomstick without dissecting it and having it certified to by a professor of science.”

Cracker and Stiffbone exchanged an ominous look.

“This,” said Stiffbone, “comes from the increased disrespect for the authorities. Nowadays everybody imagines that he has a right to think and say what he pleases. It is time that a law ought to be made punishing heresy in science, as it used to be punished in regard to religion. Not long ago I heard a new heresy preached about what they call ‘conservation of energy.’ Men ought not to be permitted to go about and poison the minds of the public by spreading erroneous scientific doctrines. We absolutely need a _Bible of Science_, stating exactly what scientific beliefs the people are to accept.”

“Such a book,” answered the Professor, “would be of the greatest benefit to the world, and prevent the injurious and misleading self-thinking done by laymen and ignorant tramps. What business have the common people to do their own thinking? No one ever attempts to make his own shoes or clothes, but leaves this to his shoemaker or tailor, who can do it much better, cheaper and quicker than he could do it himself. Why not apply the same system to deciding scientific or religious questions? Let the thinking in regard to such things be left to those who are trained and entitled to it.”

With these views the Rev. Stiffbone fully agreed. “Science,” he said, “ought to be left to the scientists, religion to the clergy, morality to the police, medicine to the physicians, money matters to bankers, and ideal things to legally appointed idealists. This would enable the people to give more attention to their own material interests. Instead of thinking about things which bring them no profit, they might employ their time for useful things, such as the raising of hogs. Religion ought not to be neglected, for the fear of the devil is the security of the Church; but one authentic sermon printed and posted every Sunday in public places would save the employment of an army of preachers, and moreover secure conformity to the doctrines taught everywhere. If the people must have music, one or two organ-grinders would be enough for a town of no more than a thousand inhabitants; if they wanted poetry, one well-trained and diplomatised verse-maker could supply the whole country.”

“These questions,” said M. Scalawag, Esq., “deserve the most careful consideration. Time is money. The struggle for existence is the first law among all beings; the survival of the fittest its necessary result. Let everyone take as much care as he can of his own interest, and leave it to those who are appointed for that purpose to look out for the rest.”

“We are appointed for that,” exclaimed Professor Cracker, “and we will attend to it. I have just discovered a new system of hypnotism by means of which large crowds can be hypnotised at once. Instead of sending the children to school, we will hypnotise into their heads all that we want them to know, and cause them to post-hypnotically forget all which we do not wish them to remember. Thus we will be the kings of the world, and all mankind will dance as we pull the strings!”

While carrying on these discussions we arrived at the “Dragon’s Den,” where our investigations were to begin. The place showed no indication of the presence of spirit; there was nothing dismal about it; on the contrary, an air of peace seemed to rest upon the scene. At the entrance of the cave there was a wild rosebush of considerable size and some Alpine flowers, among which I noticed the Larkspur and Belladonna. The walls consisted of marble rocks, exhibiting a variety of colours, and were covered in some places with mosses and ferns. In a shady corner there was still a remnant of snow, resembling a miniature glacier, and rendering the air cool and pleasant. The two openings at the sides offered a magnificent view.

The guide--who had remained a little behind, as his movements were greatly impeded by the legs of Professor Cracker’s spiritoscope, which he carried--now arrived with his bag of provisions, and unpacked his treasures. Cold meats, poultry and cheese, ham and eggs, butter and bread, made their appearance, and were soon disposed of by the committee. Beer and wine had not been forgotten, and Professor Cracker, filling his glass with champagne, lifted it up and offered a toast, “to the annihilation of the gnomes;” which was followed by another toast, pronounced by Jeremiah Stiffbone, “to Professor Cracker, the king of science, and inventor of the spiritoscope,” while Mr Scalawag, in offering his sentiments, said he hoped to find some of the treasures of the Untersberg.

After the refreshments were taken, the investigations began. To begin with, the committee carefully examined the rocks and walls and every nook and corner of the “Dragon’s Den” for the purpose of convincing themselves that there was no place where anybody might hide himself and play a practical joke upon the investigators. They measured the size of the rocks, and made sure of their solidity and the entire absence of any subterranean caves or holes. The floor was found to be perfectly solid, and no gnomes were to be seen. Thereupon they carefully noted the hour and the minute, as is always necessary on such occasions, and evidence was taken that the sky was clear. The direction of the wind was determined with great accuracy, and found to be E.N.E.; the temperature was taken and the various thermometers indicated--25° Celsius, 20° Reaumur, and 77° Fahrenheit; the barometer showed an elevation of 5800 feet above the sea and a medium atmospheric pressure. No gnome or spirit of any kind appeared upon the scene, nor was there to be found anything whatever of a spiritual character. After all the necessary preparations were made Professor Cracker produced his spiritoscope, whose description we are permitted to give for the benefit of all psychical researchers; and as a boon to the whole of mankind:

_Dr Cracker’s Spiritoscope._

This ingeniously constructed and very simple, although somewhat ponderous instrument was the original invention of Professor Cracker, and enabled him, instead of directly looking at an object, to behold and examine it by means of a series of reflections produced by four scientifically arranged mirrors bent towards each other at angles of 45 degrees.

The main body of the instrument consisted of a wooden box in which the four above-named mirrors were placed so as to face each other, and to the box was attached a telescope-tube. Thus a ray of light coming from an outside object and entering the box would produce an image in the first mirror; this would become reflected in the second and third, and finally in the fourth, where it could be seen through the telescope.

The whole apparatus was mounted upon a tripod with movable legs, so that it could be turned in every direction.

It will naturally be asked, how could Professor Cracker expect by such natural means to discover anything supernatural, and what is the benefit of looking at the reflection of a thing in a mirror, if it might be just as well seen directly with the eye? As to the first question, Professor Cracker did not admit the existence of anything beyond the common aspect of nature, and needed therefore no instrument for its discovery; while in regard to the second question, he said that direct vision was unscientific and unreliable, because what a man sees, or believes to see, may be caused by irregular cerebral action, hallucination, defective sight, ecstasy, trance, clairvoyance, or other diseases; but mirrors could not be deceived--they would not become hallucinated, or enter into a state of ecstasy:--they only showed what was actually true, and there was no humbug about them. Direct sight was well enough for common people with common sense, but indirect vision for science.

Heretofore the great merit of this spiritoscope was, as Professor Cracker repeatedly pointed out, that it had never produced any other than negative results, but these had been obtained unfailingly on all occasions, for it had actually never indicated the presence of any genius, gnome, ghost, or spirit whatever; but as the instrument was constructed according to unquestionable principles, these negative results were fully sufficient to prove the correctness of Professor Cracker’s theory.

On this occasion, however, there seemed to be something the matter with the spiritoscope. Be it that the mirrors were not in order, or that even scientific and indirect vision may be deceptive, there was evidently some kind of an obscuration within the tube, which could not be explained by natural causes. In vain Professor Cracker repeatedly cleaned his spectacles, and ultimately substituted coloured glasses for them; the fact was undeniable that something dark, some sort of a shadow, appeared repeatedly within the field of indirect vision, and this something must have been alive, for it moved about by means of some energy contained within itself, and without being kinetically impelled by any discoverable extraneous force. Repeatedly the Professor exclaimed the ominous word: “rot!” and “bosh!” and “impossible!” His scepticism had to give way before the evidence produced by his spiritoscope, and at last he was overcome by the conviction of having discovered a gnome. He looked somewhat pale, as with bated breath and with ill-suppressed excitement he announced the discovery to his colleagues.

It was now Rev. Stiffbone’s turn to take a look through the spiritoscope. He, too, saw the shadow, and saw it move. Owing to the circumstance that the light fell into the instrument from the side opposed to the standpoint of the observer, the part of the spirit turned toward Stiffbone’s eye could not be clearly seen, but its outlines seemed to grow sometimes larger and sometimes smaller, from which he inferred that the spirit was a gnome, as they were said to be able to change the size of their forms.

These observations were corroborated by Mr Scalawag. Professor Cracker looked again, and having satisfied himself that there could be no possible mistake, he made a speech, in which he said that it had been reserved for him to make the greatest discovery of this age, and that the existence of gnomes--which had heretofore been doubted by certain too sceptical people--was now an established fact, demonstrated by him for the first time in human history.

But alas! “this world is but a fleeting show,” and even the demonstrations of science cannot always be depended upon as absolutely true, for while the Professor made his speech, the head of a little mouse appeared at the opening of the tube, and seeing the coast clear, the mouse jumped to the ground and ran away. How the mouse happened to come into the spiritoscope has never been satisfactorily explained. The committee looked perplexed, and Cracker grew red in the face.

“_Errare humanum est!_” exclaimed Stiffbone, and Mr Scalawag added: “We are all liars. The best plan will be to say nothing about it.”

Although the committee did not believe thenceforth in spirits, it can nevertheless not be denied that a spirit of gloom rested upon them after this incident; a scowl rested upon the Professor’s face, and he admitted that for once in his life he had been mistaken.

While they discussed this matter the wind had changed from E.N.E. to N., and now a light puff of air brought a piece of paper flying into the cave. Rev. Stiffbone saw it, and picked it up. There were written upon it the following verses:--

O foolish mortal, by dull senses bound;
Within thyself the spirit must be found.
Know thou thyself, and by self-knowledge know
The lives above and in the world below.
In every sphere each being knows its own;
To spirits only spirits can be shown.

After reading these lines, Mr Stiffbone handed the paper to the Professor, and asked him what he thought. The Professor carefully examined the structure of the paper and said:

“This is nothing but an ordinary piece of notepaper, manufactured in this country. There is nothing supernatural about it.”

“But the verses,” answered Stiffbone. “They seem to refer to the subject of our conversation. How is this coincidence to be explained?”

“In a very simple manner,” replied Professor Cracker, growing more and more excited as he spoke. “You, sir, have written these miserable verses yourself, for the purpose of playing it on me; but let me assure you that, even if I have been imposed on by a mouse, I am not going to be fooled by such a ragamuffin as yourself; your trick was not clever enough for that.”

During this speech the Rev. Stiffbone, with open mouth, stared aghast at the Professor, and the word “ragamuffin” aroused his temper. He said that such an ill-founded accusation was calculated to greatly lessen his respect for one whose capacity to judge he had anyhow always regarded as doubtful, and that he owed it to his own respectability as a clergyman to regard Mr Cracker’s calumnies as being those of a man in his dotage, if not a wilful perverter of truth.

Cracker retorted again, and it is doubtful how the matter would have ended, but just at that moment a long-drawn sigh was heard, coming from some invisible source, and at the next moment a gust of wind followed that overthrew the spiritoscope, and sent Stiffbone’s hat flying out at the other end of the Dragon’s Den. Directly afterwards the cave became illumined by a flash of lightning, and this was succeeded by a clap of thunder which caused the ground to tremble, and reverberated like the firing of a battery of guns through the clefts in the neighbourhood. The committee stood aghast and terrified, looking at each other in a perplexed manner and not knowing what to do.

It appears that the sky had become suddenly overcast with clouds, and a storm gathered at the top of the Untersberg, while our friends were too much absorbed in their scientific researches to notice it, and now the rain began to come down in torrents, and the archway offered but little protection, for sheets of rain were blown in at the open side of the cave, and streams of water began to flow in every direction over the ground.