{"id":23863,"date":"2025-09-04T19:01:07","date_gmt":"2025-09-04T23:01:07","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/?p=23863"},"modified":"2026-03-22T10:07:34","modified_gmt":"2026-03-22T14:07:34","slug":"nathaniel-hawthorne-dr-heideggers-experiment","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/short-stories\/nathaniel-hawthorne-dr-heideggers-experiment\/23863\/","title":{"rendered":"Nathaniel Hawthorne: Dr. Heidegger’s Experiment"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Synopsis<\/strong>: \u201cDr. Heidegger\u2019s Experiment\u201d<\/em> is a short story by Nathaniel Hawthorne, first published in Knickerbocker Magazine<\/em> in January 1837 and later included in Twice-Told Tales<\/em> (1837). It tells of the eccentric Dr. Heidegger, who invites four elderly friends\u2014once distinguished by wealth, beauty, power, and pleasure but now broken by time and misfortune\u2014into his mysterious study. Amid dusty tomes, strange relics, and the portrait of his lost fianc\u00e9e, the doctor proposes a peculiar experiment involving a liquid said to flow from the legendary Fountain of Youth.<\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\n
\"Nathaniel<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Dr. Heidegger’s Experiment<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Nathaniel Hawthorne
(Full story)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That very singular man old Dr. Heidegger once invited four venerable friends to meet him in his study. There were three white-bearded gentlemen \u2014 Mr. Medbourne, Colonel Killigrew and Mr. Gascoigne \u2014 and a withered gentlewoman whose name was the widow Wycherly. They were all melancholy old creatures who had been unfortunate in life, and whose greatest misfortune it was that they were not long ago in their graves. Mr. Medbourne, in the vigor of his age, had been a prosperous merchant, but had lost his all by a frantic speculation, and was now little better than a mendicant. Colonel Killigrew had wasted his best years and his health and substance in the pursuit of sinful pleasures which had given birth to a brood of pains, such as the gout and divers other torments of soul and body. Mr. Gascoigne was a ruined politician, a man of evil fame \u2014 or, at least, had been so till time had buried him from the knowledge of the present generation and made him obscure instead of infamous. As for the widow Wycherly, tradition tells us that she was a great beauty in her day, but for a long while past she had lived in deep seclusion on account of certain scandalous stories which had prejudiced the gentry of the town against her. It is a circumstance worth mentioning that each of these three old gentlemen \u2014 Mr. Medbourne, Colonel Killigrew and Mr. Gascoigne \u2014 were early lovers of the widow Wycherly, and had once been on the point of cutting each other\u2019s throats for her sake. And before proceeding farther I will merely hint that Dr. Heidegger and all his four guests were sometimes thought to be a little beside themselves, as is not infrequently the case with old people when worried either by present troubles or woeful recollections.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMy dear old friends,\u201d said Dr. Heidegger, motioning them to be seated, \u201cI am desirous of your assistance in one of those little experiments with which I amuse myself here in my study.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

If all stories were true, Dr. Heidegger\u2019s study must have been a very curious place. It was a dim, old-fashioned chamber festooned with cobwebs and besprinkled with antique dust. Around the walls stood several oaken bookcases, the lower shelves of which were filled with rows of gigantic folios and black-letter quartos, and the upper with little parchment-covered duodecimos. Over the central bookcase was a bronze bust of Hippocrates, with which, according to some authorities, Dr. Heidegger was accustomed to hold consultations in all difficult cases of his practice. In the obscurest corner of the room stood a tall and narrow oaken closet with its door ajar, within which doubtfully appeared a skeleton. Between two of the bookcases hung a looking-glass, presenting its high and dusty plate within a tarnished gilt frame. Among many wonderful stories related of this mirror, it was fabled that the spirits of all the doctor\u2019s deceased patients dwelt within its verge and would stare him in the face whenever he looked thitherward. The opposite side of the chamber was ornamented with the full-length portrait of a young lady arrayed in the faded magnificence of silk, satin and brocade, and with a visage as faded as her dress. Above half a century ago Dr. Heidegger had been on the point of marriage with this young lady, but, being affected with some slight disorder, she had swallowed one of her lover\u2019s prescriptions and died on the bridal-evening. The greatest curiosity of the study remains to be mentioned: it was a ponderous folio volume bound in black leather, with massive silver clasps. There were no letters on the back, and nobody could tell the title of the book. But it was well known to be a book of magic, and once, when a chambermaid had lifted it merely to brush away the dust, the skeleton had rattled in its closet, the picture of the young lady had stepped one foot upon the floor and several ghastly faces had peeped forth from the mirror, while the brazen head of Hippocrates frowned and said, \u201cForbear!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Such was Dr. Heidegger\u2019s study. On the summer afternoon of our tale a small round table as black as ebony stood in the centre of the room, sustaining a cut-glass vase of beautiful form and elaborate workmanship. The sunshine came through the window between the heavy festoons of two faded damask curtains and fell directly across this vase, so that a mild splendor was reflected from it on the ashen visages of the five old people who sat around. Four champagne-glasses were also on the table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMy dear old friends,\u201d repeated Dr. Heidegger, \u201cmay I reckon on your aid in performing an exceedingly curious experiment?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Now, Dr. Heidegger was a very strange old gentleman whose eccentricity had become the nucleus for a thousand fantastic stories. Some of these fables \u2014 to my shame be it spoken \u2014 might possibly be traced back to mine own veracious self; and if any passages of the present tale should startle the reader\u2019s faith, I must be content to bear the stigma of a fiction-monger.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When the doctor\u2019s four guests heard him talk of his proposed experiment, they anticipated nothing more wonderful than the murder of a mouse in an air-pump or the examination of a cobweb by the microscope, or some similar nonsense with which he was constantly in the habit of pestering his intimates. But without waiting for a reply Dr. Heidegger hobbled across the chamber and returned with the same ponderous folio bound in black leather which common report affirmed to be a book of magic. Undoing the silver clasps, he opened the volume and took from among its black-letter pages a rose, or what was once a rose, though now the green leaves and crimson petals had assumed one brownish hue and the ancient flower seemed ready to crumble to dust in the doctor\u2019s hands.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThis rose,\u201d said Dr. Heidegger, with a sigh\u2014 \u201cthis same withered and crumbling flower \u2014 blossomed five and fifty years ago. It was given me by Sylvia Ward, whose portrait hangs yonder, and I meant to wear it in my bosom at our wedding. Five and fifty years it has been treasured between the leaves of this old volume. Now, would you deem it possible that this rose of half a century could ever bloom again?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNonsense!\u201d said the widow Wycherly, with a peevish toss of her head. \u201cYou might as well ask whether an old woman\u2019s wrinkled face could ever bloom again.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSee!\u201d answered Dr. Heidegger. He uncovered the vase and threw the faded rose into the water which it contained. At first it lay lightly on the surface of the fluid, appearing to imbibe none of its moisture. Soon, however, a singular change began to be visible. The crushed and dried petals stirred and assumed a deepening tinge of crimson, as if the flower were reviving from a deathlike slumber, the slender stalk and twigs of foliage became green, and there was the rose of half a century, looking as fresh as when Sylvia Ward had first given it to her lover. It was scarcely full-blown, for some of its delicate red leaves curled modestly around its moist bosom, within which two or three dewdrops were sparkling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat is certainly a very pretty deception,\u201d said the doctor\u2019s friends \u2014 carelessly, however, for they had witnessed greater miracles at a conjurer\u2019s show. \u201cPray, how was it effected?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDid you never hear of the Fountain of Youth?\u201d asked Dr. Heidegger, \u201cwhich Ponce de Leon, the Spanish adventurer, went in search of two or three centuries ago?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBut did Ponce de Leon ever find it?\u201d said the widow Wycherly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo,\u201d answered Dr. Heidegger, \u201cfor he never sought it in the right place. The famous Fountain of Youth, if I am rightly informed, is situated in the southern part of the Floridian peninsula, not far from Lake Macaco. Its source is overshadowed by several gigantic 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 the vase.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAhem!\u201d said Colonel Killigrew, who believed not a word of the doctor\u2019s story; \u201cand what may be the effect of this fluid on the human frame?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou shall judge for yourself, my dear colonel,\u201d replied Dr. Heidegger.\u2014 \u201cAnd all of you, my respected friends, are welcome to so much 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 no hurry to grow young again. With your permission, therefore, I will merely watch the progress of the experiment.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

While he spoke Dr. Heidegger had been filling the four champagne-glasses with the water of the Fountain of Youth. It was apparently impregnated with an effervescent gas, for little bubbles were continually ascending from the depths of the glasses and bursting in silvery spray at the surface. As the liquor diffused a pleasant perfume, the old people doubted not that it possessed cordial and comfortable properties, and, though utter sceptics as to its rejuvenescent power, they were inclined to swallow it at once. But Dr. Heidegger besought them to stay a moment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBefore you drink, my respectable old friends,\u201d said he, \u201cit would be well that, with the experience of a lifetime to direct you, you should draw up a few general rules for your guidance in passing a second time through the perils of youth. Think what a sin and shame it would be if, with your peculiar advantages, you should not become patterns of virtue and wisdom to all the young people of the age!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The doctor\u2019s four venerable friends made him no answer except by a feeble and tremulous laugh, so very ridiculous was the idea that, knowing how closely Repentance treads behind the steps of Error, they should ever go astray again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDrink, then,\u201d said the doctor, bowing; \u201cI rejoice that I have so well selected the subjects of my experiment.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

With palsied hands they raised the glasses to their lips. The liquor, if it really possessed such virtues as Dr. Heidegger imputed to it, could not have been bestowed on four human beings who needed it more woefully. They looked as if they had never known what youth or pleasure was, but had been the offspring of Nature\u2019s dotage, and always the gray, decrepit, sapless, miserable creatures who now sat stooping round the doctor\u2019s table without life enough in their souls or bodies to be animated even by the prospect of growing young again. They drank off the water and replaced their glasses on the table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Assuredly, there was an almost immediate improvement in the aspect of the party \u2014 not unlike what might have been produced by a glass of generous wine \u2014 together with a sudden glow of cheerful sunshine, brightening over all their visages at once. There was a healthful suffusion on their cheeks instead of the ashen hue that had made them look so corpse-like. They gazed at one another, and fancied that some magic power had really begun to smooth away the deep and sad inscriptions which Father Time had been so long engraving on their brows. The widow Wycherly adjusted her cap, for she felt almost like a woman again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGive us more of this wondrous water,\u201d cried they, eagerly. \u201cWe are younger, but we are still too old. Quick! give us more!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPatience, patience!\u201d quoth Dr. Heidegger, who sat, watching the experiment with philosophic coolness. \u201cYou have been a long time growing old; surely you might be content to grow young in half an hour. But the water is at your service.\u201d Again he filled their glasses with the liquor of youth, enough of which still remained in the vase to turn half the old people in the city to the age of their own grandchildren.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

While the bubbles were yet sparkling on the brim the doctor\u2019s four guests snatched their glasses from the table and swallowed the contents at a single gulp. Was it delusion? Even while the draught was passing down their throats it seemed to have wrought a change on their whole systems. Their eyes grew clear and bright; a dark shade deepened among their silvery locks: they sat around the table three gentlemen of middle age and a woman hardly beyond her buxom prime.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMy dear widow, you are charming!\u201d cried Colonel Killigrew, whose eyes had been fixed upon her face while the shadows of age were flitting from it like darkness from the crimson daybreak.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The fair widow knew of old that Colonel Killigrew\u2019s compliments were not always measured by sober truth; so she started up and ran to the mirror, still dreading that the ugly visage of an old woman would meet her gaze.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Meanwhile, the three gentlemen behaved in such a manner as proved that the water of the Fountain of Youth possessed some intoxicating qualities \u2014 unless, indeed, their exhilaration of spirits were merely a lightsome dizziness caused by the sudden removal of the weight of years. Mr. Gascoigne\u2019s mind seemed to run on political topics, but whether relating to the past, present or future could not easily be determined, since the same ideas and phrases have been in vogue these fifty years. Now he rattled forth full-throated sentences about patriotism, national glory and the people\u2019s right; now he muttered some perilous stuff or other in a sly and doubtful whisper, so cautiously that even his own conscience could scarcely catch the secret; and now, again, he spoke in measured accents and a deeply-deferential tone, as if a royal ear were listening to his well-turned periods. Colonel Killigrew all this time had been trolling forth a jolly bottle-song and ringing his glass in symphony with the chorus, while his eyes wandered toward the buxom figure of the widow Wycherly. On the other side of the table, Mr. Medbourne was involved in a calculation of dollars and cents with which was strangely intermingled a project for supplying the East Indies with ice by harnessing a team of whales to the polar icebergs. As for the widow Wycherly, she stood before the mirror courtesying and simpering to her own image and greeting it as the friend whom she loved better than all the world besides. She thrust her face close to the glass to see whether some long-remembered wrinkle or crow\u2019s-foot had indeed vanished; she examined whether the snow had so entirely melted from her hair that the venerable cap could be safely thrown aside. At last, turning briskly away, she came with a sort of dancing step to the table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMy dear old doctor,\u201d cried she, \u201cpray favor me with another glass.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCertainly, my dear madam \u2014 certainly,\u201d replied the complaisant doctor. \u201cSee! I have already filled the glasses.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There, in fact, stood the four glasses brimful of this wonderful water, the delicate spray of which, as it effervesced from the surface, resembled the tremulous glitter of diamonds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was now so nearly sunset that the chamber had grown duskier than ever, but a mild and moonlike splendor gleamed from within the vase and rested alike on the four guests and on the doctor\u2019s venerable figure. He sat in a high-backed, elaborately-carved oaken arm-chair with a gray dignity of aspect that might have well befitted that very Father Time whose power had never been disputed save by this fortunate company. Even while quaffing the third draught of the Fountain of Youth, they were almost awed by the expression of his mysterious visage. But the next moment the exhilarating gush of young life shot through their veins. They were now in the happy prime of youth. Age, with its miserable train of cares and sorrows and diseases, was remembered only as the trouble of a dream from which they had joyously awoke. The fresh gloss of the soul, so early lost and without which the world\u2019s successive scenes had been but a gallery of faded pictures, again threw its enchantment over all their prospects. They felt like new-created beings in a new-created universe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe are young! We are young!\u201d they cried, exultingly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Youth, like the extremity of age, had effaced the strongly-marked characteristics of middle life and mutually assimilated them all. They were a group of merry youngsters almost maddened with the exuberant frolicsomeness of their years. The most singular effect of their gayety was an impulse to mock the infirmity and decrepitude of which they had so lately been the victims. They laughed loudly at their old-fashioned attire \u2014 the wide-skirted coats and flapped waistcoats of the young men and the ancient cap and gown of the blooming girl. One limped across the floor like a gouty grandfather; one set a pair of spectacles astride of his nose and pretended to pore over the black-letter pages of the book of magic; a third seated himself in an arm-chair and strove to imitate the venerable dignity of Dr. Heidegger. Then all shouted mirthfully and leaped about the room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The widow Wycherly \u2014 if so fresh a damsel could be called a widow \u2014 tripped up to the doctor\u2019s chair with a mischievous merriment in her rosy face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDoctor, you dear old soul,\u201d cried she, \u201cget up and dance with me;\u201d and then the four young people laughed louder than ever to think what a queer figure the poor old doctor would cut.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPray excuse me,\u201d answered the doctor, quietly. \u201cI am old and rheumatic, and my dancing-days were over long ago. But either of these gay young gentlemen will be glad of so pretty a partner.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDance with me, Clara,\u201d cried Colonel Killigrew.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, no! I will be her partner,\u201d shouted Mr. Gascoigne.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cShe promised me her hand fifty years ago,\u201d exclaimed Mr. Medbourne.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They all gathered round her. One caught both her hands in his passionate grasp, another threw his arm about her waist, the third buried his hand among the glossy curls that clustered beneath the widow\u2019s cap. Blushing, panting, struggling, chiding, laughing, her warm breath fanning each of their faces by turns, she strove to disengage herself, yet still remained in their triple embrace. Never was there a livelier picture of youthful rivalship, with bewitching beauty for the prize. Yet, by a strange deception, owing to the duskiness of the chamber and the antique dresses which they still wore, the tall mirror is said to have reflected the figures of the three old, gray, withered grand-sires ridiculously contending for the skinny ugliness of a shrivelled grandam. But they were young: their burning passions proved them so.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Inflamed to madness by the coquetry of the girl-widow, who neither granted nor quite withheld her favors, the three rivals began to interchange threatening glances. Still keeping hold of the fair prize, they grappled fiercely at one another\u2019s throats. As they struggled to and fro the table was overturned and the vase dashed into a thousand fragments. The precious Water of Youth flowed in a bright stream across the floor, moistening the wings of a butterfly which, grown old in the decline of summer, had alighted there to die. The insect fluttered lightly through the chamber and settled on the snowy head of Dr. Heidegger.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCome, come, gentlemen! Come, Madam Wycherly!\u201d exclaimed the doctor. \u201cI really must protest against this riot.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They stood still and shivered, for it seemed as if gray Time were calling them back from their sunny youth far down into the chill and darksome vale of years. They looked at old Dr. Heidegger, who sat in his carved armchair holding the rose of half a century, which he had rescued from among the fragments of the shattered vase. At the motion of his hand the four rioters resumed their seats \u2014 the more readily because their violent exertions had wearied them, youthful though they were.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMy poor Sylvia\u2019s rose!\u201d ejaculated Dr. Heidegger, holding it in the light of the sunset clouds. \u201cIt appears to be fading again.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And so it was. Even while the party were looking at it the flower continued to shrivel up, till it became as dry and fragile as when the doctor had first thrown it into the vase. He shook off the few drops of moisture which clung to its petals.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI love it as well thus as in its dewy freshness,\u201d observed he, pressing the withered rose to his withered lips.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

While he spoke the butterfly fluttered down from the doctor\u2019s snowy head and fell upon the floor. His guests shivered again. A strange dullness \u2014 whether of the body or spirit they could not tell \u2014 was creeping gradually over them all. They gazed at one another, and fancied that each fleeting moment snatched away 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 so brief a space, and were they now four aged people sitting with their old friend Dr. Heidegger?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAre we grown old again so soon?\u201d cried they, dolefully.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In truth, they had. The Water of Youth possessed merely a virtue more transient than that of wine; the delirium which it created had effervesced away. Yes, they were old again. With a shuddering impulse that showed her a woman still, the widow clasped her skinny hands before her face and wished that the coffin-lid were over it, since it could be no longer beautiful.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes, friends, ye are old again,\u201d said Dr. Heidegger, \u201cand, lo! the Water of Youth is all lavished on the ground. Well, I bemoan it not; for if the fountain gushed at my very doorstep, I would not stoop to bathe my lips in it \u2014 no, though its delirium were for years instead of moments. Such is the lesson ye have taught me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But the doctor\u2019s four friends had taught no such lesson to themselves. They resolved forthwith to make a pilgrimage to Florida and quaff at morning, noon and night from the Fountain of Youth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

THE END<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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