However, with 1899 and his return to Linz, we see the triumphant execution of designs and ideas that had obviously been building in Dunkelblau’s mind for some time, culminating that year in the opening of the St. Agnes Blannbekin Private School for Boys and Girls, an institute under Dunkelblau’s personal supervision. The doctor was described by one of the school’s first students as “a great, smiling, bearded Father Christmas of a man” and “a performing bear, quick to growl, quick to eat off the plates of others, but also swift with a booming laugh or a sudden storm of tears caused by the frustrations of his work.”
In 1905, after some period of experimentation with mechanical equipment and the selection of a first set of human test subjects, Dunkelblau unveiled his magnum opus to the Austrian and international press: the Meistergarten.
John Coulthart’s painstaking reconstruction of the Meistergarten.
The Meistergarten
The machine itself was described in a subsequent legal deposition by a lawyer for the family of one of the children:
It was the size of a very small fairground ride, and, in fact, bore much of the appearance of a children’s carousel, being circular, a little less than three meters in diameter, and profusely decorated in the very ornamented style of the time with baroque leaves and vines. At the center, a bit larger than the human original it sought to emulate, was the bronze head that contained the speaking tube and the audio tubes and various other bits of the mechanism that would allow it to interact with the youthful subjects.
The machine itself (although most of the gears and tubes were hidden from view by the panels on the outside of the Meistergarten) was designed as both a teaching resource and a self-contained supply of everything by way of health and nurture that the child subjects would need. The bronze head that took pride of place at the center of the Meistergarten, perched much as a bride and groom might stand in the middle of a wedding cake, was created in the image of a classical sculpture of a goddess, but with a hinged jaw and small lightbulbs behind the isinglass of the eyes. It would turn on a swivel to listen or speak to the children in turn. A correct answer would solicit a mechanical smile (signaled by a grinding noise as the jaws rubbed together) and various invisible caresses on the student’s unprotected skin within the body of the machine. A wrong answer would cause the automaton’s eyes to flash red and its mouth to gape widely as it gave forth a loud klaxon that some observers called “horrifying,” but Doktor Dunkelblau called “usefully arresting.”
Other facilities for the better promotion of learning had been built into the Meistergarten but were not immediately revealed by the staff of the St. Agnes Blannbekin school.
The Subjects
The names of these first volunteers, or at least the names by which they were known in the literature surrounding the experiment, were:
Trudl K., 7 years old, from Linz
Wouter S., 9 years old, from Passau
Franz F., 8 years old, from Linz
Helga W., 8 years old, from Scherding
Lorenz D., 7 years old, from Radstadt
These students (or, rather, their parents) had agreed that they would spend at least the next three years as part of Dunkelblau’s experiment—joined to the apparatus, with all their needs satisfied by the machine while they received the most complete and thorough education of any human child ever. Or so was Dunkelblau’s assertion; the results of his groundbreaking experiment and the value of his data are still in dispute to this very day.
Some later researchers have claimed that Ernst Dunkelblau chose his subjects by nonstandard criteria that included “interesting distress noises,” “shape of feet and nose,” and, in one case, that of Helga W., because the young girl had “a tantalizingly brilliant future in Music or the Arts,” epitomized by her singing voice and early grace at the Austrian
The Experiment
The name of Dunkelblau’s invention, Der Meistergarten, was a play on Fröber’s famous “kindergarten”—a children’s garden. Ernst Dunkelblau, though, did not plan simply to educate children, but to create “masters,” students who would be superior to ordinary children in every way, as Dunkelblau had felt himself to be.
“I was a nightingale in a cage full of croaking ravens” is how he once described his time at the University of Graz. “My little, sweet, and sensible voice could not be heard above the cacophonous din of the other so-called scholars. . . .”