The Occult Review 7, no. 1 (Jan. 1908), 7-35
Franz Hartmann, M.D.1
HAVING long ago been accustomed to look upon this evanescent world of illusions as a great comedy and upon the actors therein as continually changing masks in which only the eternal reality hidden behind the veil of visible matter is worthy of serious consideration, I consider the mundane affairs of mortal personalities, my own included, as of no great importance and have no great desire to parade my own personality with its virtues and vices before the public. However, as every one of us may learn something useful by being informed of the experience of another, and as my experiences and adventures, especially in regard to occult subjects have been somewhat extraordinary and interesting, illustrating, moreover, the action of Karma acquired in previous incarnations, I have pleasure in supplying (at the Editor’s request) the following account:—
I was born on November 22, 1838, at Donauwerth, a small town on the Danube in Bavaria. My father, Dr. Carl Hartmann, was a well-known and prominent physician, and my mother, Elizabeth von Stack, was of Irish descent; her ancestors were said to be descendants of Caolbha the 123rd and last king of the Irish race and 47th king of Ulster. Some old family papers still in my possession go to corroborate this statement, and, strange to say, it seems to me that I was inhabiting Ireland myself in some previous incarnation; because, upon visiting that country some years ago, the lakes of Killamey and many other places seemed very familiar to me, and I remembered certain events in the history of Ireland of which I had never received information in any external way. My mother’s family emigrated to France after the execution of Charles I and afterwards to Bavaria during the French Revolution. When I was about one year old, my parents moved to Kempten in Southern Bavaria and there I received my education; first under the guidance of my grandfather, who had been an officer in the French army under Napoleon I and a participant of his battles in Russia; afterwards in the ordinary curriculum of the public schools.
I remember that even in my earliest youth it seemed to me as if I were composed of two personalities. I spoke of myself as being two boys, a good one and a bad one. The good one was a dreamer and idealist and had sometimes beautiful visions, perhaps recollections of the devachanic state which he had occupied previous to his present incarnation; the bad one was very obstinate and self-willed, ready to perpetrate all sorts of mischief and reprehensible tricks, and for all I know he may have been a so-called “Dweller of the Threshold”; that is to say, a form shaped by bad Karma during a previous incarnation and having survived in Kama loca.
I always loved solitude, and my favourite lounging place was near the top of a tall spruce tree in the thicket of a pine forest on a hill, where I built myself a nest of boughs and held converse with the spirits of the air, or I spent hours at the shore of a solitary lake hidden between hills and rocks, where I imagined I saw the nymphs playing among the water-lilies and listened to their songs. The intercourse with the spirits of nature was to me so real and interesting, that I cared very little for being in company with my schoolmates and taking part in their play; in fact, it developed a certain sentimentality, of which I have not been cured up to this day.
My longing for the super-sensual and mysterious may have been the reason why I was strongly attracted by the ceremonies of the Roman Catholic Church, in whose doctrines I was educated. The grand dome with its cupola and coloured windows, hidden stalls and secret vaults, the music and lights and mysterious ceremonies exercised a great influence over my mind. I felt showers of ethereal vibrations pass through my body during the holy mass and the sounding of the big bell seemed to lift my spirit beyond the clouds. I knew that behind all this outward show and ceremony there must be some mysterious, living influence or power; but none of the priests whom I consulted could give me any satisfactory explanation. They only talked about blind belief in the teachings of the Catechism; but I did not want merely to believe in theories; I wanted to know. I was not aware that the mysteries of religion must first be realized within the knowledge of the heart before they can be understood with the brain.
At a time when my religious doubts were very strong, I made friends with a comrade somewhat older than myself and who later on became a well-known composer of music. This young man was a thorough materialist and rationalist. According to the phrenological development of my skull, I have a great deficiency of self-esteem. I always believed that everybody knew everything much better than I, only to find out my mistake afterwards. In this way I fell into a great many deplorable errors and lost a great deal of money. My new friend did not believe in anything except eating and drinking, playing the piano, and enjoying himself wherever there was an occasion, and it did not take him long to persuade me that all religion was only a humbug instituted by priests for the purpose of profiting from the ignorance and superstition of the people. Moreover, materialism was at that time the fashion; I read the books of Ludwig Büchner, composed poetry and wrote a theatrical play, the subject being taken from Greek history. I tried to avoid all religious thought and looked upon clericalism with the greatest contempt. Nevertheless, the teachings of Büchner, Moleschott and Comte did not satisfy me. There seemed to be something wanting in them. They only tore down and destroyed things which existed; but they did not build up anything compatible with my own intuition. Consequently, there remained nothing else to do but to fall for a while into a state of agnosticism, which was more unsatisfactory than all the rest.
Portrait of Dr. Franz Hartmann.
In this state of mind I became a student at the University of Munich, joined a “Corporation” and soon excelled the rest in duelling, occasional drinking and other amusements; not for the love of such things, which appeared to me ridiculous, but out of ambition and pride. I wanted to be at least the equal of everybody in everything. This love of ambition, together with a superabundance of energy, has often caused me trouble. Thus, for instance, once while making a difficult ascent of a high glacier of the Alps one of my comrades dared me to pass over an extremely steep part of the ice. My pride arose; I wanted to show him that to me no such thing was impossible. I went, slipped, fell down and had to be glad to escape a fall of 3,000 feet by striking against a rock and getting a fractured leg. This, however, was cured and the accident did not prevent me joining the Bavarian army and serving for a few months in the 1st Artillery regiment as a volunteer in 1859 during the war between Austria, Italy and France. Numerous amusing incidents might be told of my adventures during those times; but they do not come within the scope of this article, which is to deal more especially with interior experiences and changes of mind.
In the year 1863 my medical studies were ended and I went to Paris, where I remained for some weeks. Being desirous of seeing the ocean, I one day made a trip to Havre by an excursion train, such as frequently carry the Parisians there on Saturday evening and bring them back on Monday morning. On the intervening Sunday I made the casual acquaintance of a gentleman who in the course of our conversation asked me whether I would not like to make a trip to America, and he furthermore told me that the ship Mercury, with some 360 emigrants, was about to leave for New York, and that they needed a physician. Love of adventure induced me to accept that position, and instead of returning to Paris I went on board, after having passed through a hurried examination before the medical committee for the purpose of proving mv qualifications. We started for New York, and the voyage was very pleasant, but not without incidents, for another emigrant ship, with hundreds of passengers, took fire in the open sea and was burned. Only a few were saved which we took on board.
I loved the sea and would have wished to stay there all my life; but to my great regret we arrived at New York, after a forty days’ voyage, on August 28, 1865, and having no other plans I went to see the Niagara Falls and thence to St. Louis. Now it happened that there was an epidemic of cholera at St. Louis at that time. This gave me an opportunity to make myself useful. So I hung out my sign, remained at St. Louis, became an American citizen and soon had a remunerative practice.
Love of change and adventure, however, left me no rest. I found my life too monotonous; the climate of St. Louis was in winter exceedingly cold and I desired to see a tropical country. So I turned my practice over to another physician and went to New Orleans and finding, while taking a walk on the wharf, a schooner ready to sail for Mexico, I took passage and left for Vera Cruz, where we arrived on February 17, 1871. I then went to the city of Mexico and later on to Puebla and Cordova, and I might write a volume about the many interesting experiences which I had in that country, which at that time was not yet so much invaded by foreigners as it is now; but space will not permit it. I can, however, not omit mentioning the beautiful spectacle offered by a sight of the Pique de Orizaba on a sunny morning, when darkness still covers the valley and the mist hides the foot of the mountain, while the icefields of the volcano reflect the splendour of the rising sun; so that it seems as if a new planet had been created during the night and was now floating in space in close proximity to our earth. However much I was pleased with Mexico I thought it more profitable for me to return to the United States. I took passage at Vera Cruz on board an American brig and arrived once more at New Orleans. There I was robbed by a fellow-passenger of the whole of my baggage, which I had entrusted to his safe keeping for a few hours; but who absconded with it. Thus I was left at New Orleans, where I did not know a single soul, with nothing but the clothes I wore and a few dollars in my waistcoat pocket. All my goods, instruments, papers, books and documents were gone, and I was at a loss what to do. To begin to practice medicine in a strange city without having any means or acquaintances would have been an impossibility. I thought of applying for a position as policeman; but I soon found out that I might just as well expect to be elected President of the United States as to be appointed a policeman at New Orleans, as to that office only persons of political influence are selected.
That night the mosquitoes on the Mississippi River were very annoying to me, and the next morning I went to a drug store to buy a remedy to cure the bites. The apothecary began a conversation with me, and hearing of my adventure, he told me that I came to him like a godsend, as he needed a physician to write prescriptions for the patients that came to seek advice in his drug store. His offers were very favourable; I accepted them and in less than a month I had a very remunerative practice and a larger income than I would have ever dared to hope to attain in my life.
But to return again to religious subjects. During my travels I had come into contact with many Protestant sects and also boarded a whole year in the house of a Jewish Rabbi. I attended many religious services of all these persuasions, but found nothing that satisfied me in them. Especially the Protestant system seemed to me a delusion of the brain without any heart. The pious people whom I met claimed that all the Bible stories, no matter how absurd and incredible they were, had to be believed literally, and my objection that “the letter killeth, but the spirit giveth life” made no impression upon their minds. They seemed to believe in some vicarious atonement made by another person, and that one could only attain eternal salvation by claiming to believe in certain theories and in the veracity of a certain historical account, of which, in reality, nobody knew whether it was actually true. Their religion seemed to me extremely egotistical, because every one asked, above all, salvation for himself, caring but little what would become of the rest. A far better sentiment I had found in the house of the Jewish Rabbi, whose family life was very harmonious, and also among the Red Indians; for when I once, and without any companion, undertook an excursion on horseback among the Senerca [Seneca], Shawnees and Choktaw [Choctaw] tribes, I found there the most admirable kindness and hospitality and was assured by them that the “Great Spirit” (whom I suppose to be the spirit of brotherly love) was residing with them.
Thus far I had been an enemy to spiritism; because I had been told that all the “spiritualistic” phenomena were produced by trickery and fraud. A believer in spiritism was, to my mind, a long-haired crank with goggle eyes, who would see the products of his own diseased imagination in the shape of ghosts in every comer. Nevertheless, my curiosity prompted me to visit a certain “materializing séance” held by a medium by the name of Mrs. Rice or Mrs. Holmes (?), and there I saw the most wonderful phenomena of tangible appearances and materializations of ghosts, known as the spirits of Katie King and certain others. I became interested in these things and went to hear the lectures of Professor Peebles, and the philosophy which he taught seemed to me very rational and plausible; but it overthrew all the theories of Büchner and Comte.