Maxwell, the other enthusiast, was an admiring disciple of Paracelsus, and

boasted that he had irradiated the obscurity in which too many of the

wonder-working recipes of that great philosopher were enveloped. His works

were printed at Frankfort in 1679. It would seem, from the following

passage, that he was aware of the great influence of imagination, as well

in the production as in the cure of diseases. "If you wish to work

prodigies," says he, "abstract from the materiality of beings--increase

the sum of spirituality in bodies--rouse the spirit from its slumbers.

Unless you do one or other of these things--unless you can bind the idea,

you can never perform any thing good or great." Here, in fact, lies the

whole secret of magnetism, and all delusions of a similar kind: increase

the spirituality--rouse the spirit from its slumbers, or, in other words,

work upon the imagination--induce belief and blind confidence, and you may

do any thing. This passage, which is quoted with approbation by M.

Dupotet[69] in a work, as strongly corroborative of the theory now

advanced by the animal magnetists, is just the reverse. If they believe

they can work all their wonders by the means so dimly shadowed forth by

Maxwell, what becomes of the universal fluid pervading all nature, and

which they pretend to pour into weak and diseased bodies from the tips of

their fingers?

[69] _Introduction to the Study of Animal Magnetism_, p. 318.

Early in the eighteenth century the attention of Europe was directed to a

very remarkable instance of fanaticism, which has been claimed by the

animal magnetists as a proof of their science. The _Convulsionaries of St.

Medard_, as they were called, assembled in great numbers round the tomb of

their favourite saint, the Jansenist priest Paris, and taught one another

how to fall into convulsions. They believed that St. Paris would cure all

their infirmities; and the number of hysterical women and weak-minded

persons of all descriptions that flocked to the tomb from far and near was

so great as daily to block up all the avenues leading to it. Working

themselves up to a pitch of excitement, they went off one after the other

into fits, while some of them, still in apparent possession of all their

faculties, voluntarily exposed themselves to sufferings which on

ordinary occasions would have been sufficient to deprive them of life. The

scenes that occurred were a scandal to civilisation and to religion--a

strange mixture of obscenity, absurdity, and superstition. While some were

praying on bended knees at the shrine of St. Paris, others were shrieking

and making the most hideous noises. The women especially exerted

themselves. On one side of the chapel there might be seen a score of them,

all in convulsions; while at another as many more, excited to a sort of

frenzy, yielded themselves up to gross indecencies. Some of them took an

insane delight in being beaten and trampled upon. One in particular,

according to Montégre, whose account we quote,[70] was so enraptured with

this ill-usage, that nothing but the hardest blows would satisfy her.

While a fellow of Herculean strength was beating her with all his might

with a heavy bar of iron, she kept continually urging him to renewed

exertion. The harder he struck the better she liked it, exclaiming all the

while, "Well done, brother, well done! Oh, how pleasant it is! what good

you are doing me! Courage, my brother, courage; strike harder, strike

harder still!" Another of these fanatics had, if possible, a still greater

love for a beating. Carré de Montgeron, who relates the circumstance, was

unable to satisfy her with sixty blows of a large sledge-hammer. He

afterwards used the same weapon with the same degree of strength, for the

sake of experiment, and succeeded in battering a hole in a stone wall at

the twenty-fifth stroke. Another woman, named Sonnet, laid herself down on

a red-hot brazier without flinching, and acquired for herself the nickname

of the _Salamander_; while others, desirous of a more illustrious

martyrdom, attempted to crucify themselves. M. Deleuze, in his critical

history of _Animal Magnetism_, attempts to prove that this fanatical

frenzy was produced by magnetism, and that these mad enthusiasts

magnetised each other without being aware of it. As well might he insist

that the fanaticism which tempts the Hindoo bigot to keep his arms

stretched in a horizontal position till the sinews wither, or his fingers

closed upon his palms till the nails grow out of the backs of his hands,

is also an effect of magnetism!

[70] _Dictionaire des Sciences Médicales_--Article

_Convulsionnaires_, par Montégre.

For a period of sixty or seventy years magnetism was almost wholly

confined to Germany. Men of sense and learning devoted their attention to

the properties of the loadstone; and one Father Hell, a Jesuit, and

professor of astronomy at the University of Vienna, rendered himself

famous by his magnetic cures. About the year 1771 or 1772 he invented

steel-plates of a peculiar form, which he applied to the naked body as a

cure for several diseases. In the year 1774 he communicated his system to

Anthony Mesmer. The latter improved upon the ideas of Father Hell,

constructed a new theory of his own, and became the founder of ANIMAL

MAGNETISM.

It has been the fashion among the enemies of the new delusion to decry

Mesmer as an unprincipled adventurer, while his disciples have extolled

him to the skies as a regenerator of the human race. In nearly the same

words as the Rosicrucians applied to their founders, he has been called

the discoverer of the secret which brings man into more intimate connexion

with his Creator, the deliverer of the soul from the debasing trammels of

the flesh, the man who enables us to set time at defiance, and conquer the

obstructions of space. A careful sifting of his pretensions, and

examination of the evidence brought forward to sustain them, will soon

shew which opinion is the more correct. That the writer of these pages

considers him in the light of a man who, deluding himself, was the means

of deluding others, may be inferred from his finding a place in these

volumes, and figuring among the Flamels, the Agrippas, the Borris, the

Böhmens, and the Cagliostros.

He was born in May 1734, at Mersburg, in Swabia, and studied medicine at

the University of Vienna. He took his degrees in 1766, and chose the

influence of the planets on the human body as the subject of his inaugural

dissertation. Having treated the matter quite in the style of the old

astrological physicians, he was exposed to some ridicule both then and

afterwards. Even at this early period some faint ideas of his great theory

were germinating in his mind. He maintained in his dissertation "that the

sun, moon, and fixed stars mutually affect each other in their orbits;

that they cause and direct in our earth a flux and reflux not only in the

sea, but in the atmosphere, and affect in a similar manner all organised

bodies through the medium of a subtile and mobile fluid, which pervades

the universe, and associates all things together in mutual intercourse and

harmony." This influence, he said, was particularly exercised on the

nervous system, and produced two states, which he called _intension_ and

_remission_, which seemed to him to account for the different periodical

revolutions observable in several maladies. When in after-life he met with

Father Hell, he was confirmed by that person's observations in the truth

of many of his own ideas. Having caused Hell to make him some magnetic

plates, he determined to try experiments with them himself for his further

satisfaction.

He tried accordingly, and was astonished at his success. The faith of

their wearers operated wonders with the metallic plates. Mesmer made due

reports to Father Hell of all he had done, and the latter published them

as the results of his own happy invention, and speaking of Mesmer as a

physician whom he had employed to work under him. Mesmer took offence at

being thus treated, considering himself a far greater personage than

Father Hell. He claimed the invention as his own, accused Hell of a breach

of confidence, and stigmatised him as a mean person, anxious to turn the

discoveries of others to his own account. Hell replied, and a very pretty

quarrel was the result, which afforded small talk for months to the

literati of Vienna. Hell ultimately gained the victory. Mesmer, nothing

daunted, continued to promulgate his views till he stumbled at last upon

the animal theory.

One of his patients was a young lady, named Oesterline, who suffered under

a convulsive malady. Her attacks were periodical, and attended by a rush

of blood to the head, followed by delirium and syncope. These symptoms he

soon succeeded in reducing under his system of planetary influence, and

imagined he could foretell the periods of accession and remission. Having

thus accounted satisfactorily to himself for the origin of the disease,

the idea struck him that he could operate a certain cure if he could

ascertain beyond doubt, what he had long believed, that there existed

between the bodies which compose our globe an action equally reciprocal

and similar to that of the heavenly bodies, by means of which he could

imitate artificially the periodical revolutions of the flux and reflux

before mentioned. He soon convinced himself that this action did exist.

When trying the metallic plates of Father Hell, he thought their efficacy

depended on their form; but he found afterwards that he could produce the

same effects without using them at all, merely by passing his hands

downwards towards the feet of the patient, even when at a considerable

distance.

This completed the theory of Mesmer. He wrote an account of his discovery

to all the learned societies of Europe, soliciting their investigation.

The Academy of Sciences at Berlin was the only one that answered him, and

their answer was any thing but favourable to his system or flattering to

himself. Still he was not discouraged. He maintained to all who would

listen to him that the magnetic matter, or fluid, pervaded all the

universe--that every human body contained it, and could communicate the

superabundance of it to another by an exertion of the will. Writing to a

friend from Vienna, he said, "I have observed that the magnetic is almost

the same thing as the electric fluid, and that it may be propagated in the

same manner, by means of intermediate bodies. Steel is not the only

substance adapted to this purpose. I have rendered paper, bread, wool,

silk, stones, leather, glass, wood, men, and dogs--in short, every thing I

touched, magnetic to such a degree, that these substances produced the

same effects as the loadstone on diseased persons. I have charged jars

with magnetic matter in the same way as is done with electricity."

Mesmer did not long find his residence at Vienna as agreeable as he

wished. His pretensions were looked upon with contempt or indifference,

and the case of Mademoiselle Oesterline brought him less fame than

notoriety. He determined to change his sphere of action, and travelled

into Swabia and Switzerland. In the latter country he met with the

celebrated Father Gassner, who, like Valentine Greatraks, amused himself

by casting out devils, and healing the sick by merely laying hands upon

them. At his approach, delicate girls fell into convulsions, and

hypochondriacs fancied themselves cured. His house was daily besieged by

the lame, the blind, and the hysteric. Mesmer at once acknowledged the

efficacy of his cures, and declared that they were the obvious result of

his own newly-discovered power of magnetism. A few of the father's

patients were forthwith subjected to the manipulations of Mesmer, and the

same symptoms were induced. He then tried his hand upon some paupers in

the hospitals of Berne and Zurich, and succeeded, according to his own

account, but no other person's, in curing an opththalmia and a gutta

serena. With memorials of these achievements he returned to Vienna, in the

hope of silencing his enemies, or at least forcing them to respect his

newly-acquired reputation, and to examine his system more attentively.

His second appearance in that capital was not more auspicious than the

first. He undertook to cure a Mademoiselle Paradis, who was quite blind,

and subject to convulsions. He magnetised her several times, and then

declared that she was cured; at least, if she was not, it was her fault

and not his. An eminent oculist of that day, named Barth, went to visit

her, and declared that she was as blind as ever; while her family said she

was as much subject to convulsions as before. Mesmer persisted that she

was cured. Like the French philosopher, he would not allow facts to

interfere with his theory.[71] He declared that there was a conspiracy

against him; and that Mademoiselle Paradis, at the instigation of her

family, feigned blindness in order to injure his reputation!

[71] An enthusiastic philosopher, of whose name we are not

informed, had constructed a very satisfactory theory on some

subject or other, and was not a little proud of it. "But the

facts, my dear fellow," said his friend, "the facts do not

agree with your theory."--"Don't they?" replied the

philosopher, shrugging his shoulders, "then, _tant pis pour

les faits_;"--so much the worse for the facts!

The consequences of this pretended cure taught Mesmer that Vienna

was not the sphere for him. Paris, the idle, the debauched, the

pleasure-hunting, the novelty-loving, was the scene for a philosopher like

him, and thither he repaired accordingly. He arrived at Paris in 1778, and

began modestly by making himself and his theory known to the principal

physicians. At first, his encouragement was but slight; he found people

more inclined to laugh at than to patronise him. But he was a man who had

great confidence in himself, and of a perseverance which no difficulties

could overcome. He hired a sumptuous apartment, which he opened to all

comers who chose to make trial of the new power of nature. M. D'Eslon, a

physician of great reputation, became a convert; and from that time,

animal magnetism, or, as some called it, mesmerism, became the fashion in

Paris. The women were quite enthusiastic about it, and their admiring

tattle wafted its fame through every grade of society. Mesmer was the

rage; and high and low, rich and poor, credulous and unbelieving, all

hastened to convince themselves of the power of this mighty magician, who

made such magnificent promises. Mesmer, who knew as well as any man living

the influence of the imagination, determined that, on that score, nothing

should be wanting to heighten the effect of the magnetic charm. In all

Paris, there was not a house so charmingly furnished as Monsieur Mesmer's.

Richly-stained glass shed a dim religious light on his spacious saloons,

which were almost covered with mirrors. Orange-blossoms scented all the

air of his corridors; incense of the most expensive kinds burned in

antique vases on his chimney-pieces; æolian harps sighed melodious music

from distant chambers; while sometimes a sweet female voice, from above or

below, stole softly upon the mysterious silence that was kept in the

house, and insisted upon from all visitors. "_Was ever any thing so

delightful!_" cried all the Mrs. Wittitterleys of Paris, as they thronged

to his house in search of pleasant excitement; "_So wonderful!_" said the

pseudo-philosophers, who would believe anything if it were the fashion;

"_So amusing!_" said the worn-out debauchés, who had drained the cup of

sensuality to its dregs, and who longed to see lovely women in

convulsions, with the hope that they might gain some new emotions from the

sight.

The following was the mode of operation: In the centre of the saloon was

placed an oval vessel, about four feet in its longest diameter, and one

foot deep. In this were laid a number of wine-bottles, filled with

magnetised water, well corked-up, and disposed in radii, with their necks

outwards. Water was then poured into the vessel so as just to cover the

bottles, and filings of iron were thrown in occasionally to heighten the

magnetic effect. The vessel was then covered with an iron cover,

pierced through with many holes, and was called the _baquet_. From each

hole issued a long movable rod of iron, which the patients were to apply

to such parts of their bodies as were afflicted. Around this _baquet_ the

patients were directed to sit, holding each other by the hand, and

pressing their knees together as closely as possible, to facilitate the

passage of the magnetic fluid from one to the other.

Then came in the assistant magnetisers, generally strong, handsome young

men, to pour into the patient from their finger-tips fresh streams of the

wondrous fluid. They embraced the patient between the knees, rubbed them

gently down the spine and the course of the nerves, using gentle pressure

upon the breasts of the ladies, and staring them out of countenance to

magnetise them by the eye! All this time the most rigorous silence was

maintained, with the exception of a few wild notes on the harmonica or the

piano-forte, or the melodious voice of a hidden opera-singer swelling

softly at long intervals. Gradually the cheeks of the ladies began to

glow, their imaginations to become inflamed; and off they went, one after

the other, in convulsive fits. Some of them sobbed and tore their hair,

others laughed till the tears ran from their eyes, while others shrieked

and screamed and yelled till they became insensible altogether.

This was the crisis of the delirium. In the midst of it, the chief actor

made his appearance, waving his wand, like Prospero, to work new wonders.

Dressed in a long robe of lilac-coloured silk richly embroidered with gold

flowers, bearing in his hand a white magnetic rod, and with a look of

dignity which would have sat well on an eastern caliph, he marched with

solemn strides into the room. He awed the still sensible by his eye, and

the violence of their symptoms diminished. He stroked the insensible with

his hands upon the eye-brows and down the spine; traced figures upon their

breast and abdomen with his long white wand, and they were restored to

consciousness. They became calm, acknowledged his power, and said they

felt streams of cold or burning vapour passing through their frames,

according as he waved his wand or his fingers before them.

"It is impossible," says M. Dupotet, "to conceive the sensation which

Mesmer's experiments created in Paris. No theological controversy, in the

earlier ages of the Catholic Church, was ever conducted with greater

bitterness." His adversaries denied the discovery; some calling him a

quack, others a fool, and others again, like the Abbé Fiard, a man who had

sold himself to the Devil! His friends were as extravagant in their

praise, as his foes were in their censure. Paris was inundated with

pamphlets upon the subject, as many defending as attacking the doctrine.

At court, the queen expressed herself in favour of it, and nothing

else was to be heard of in society.

By the advice of M. D'Eslon, Mesmer challenged an examination of his

doctrine by the Faculty of Medicine. He proposed to select twenty-four

patients, twelve of whom he would treat magnetically, leaving the other

twelve to be treated by the faculty according to the old and approved

methods. He also stipulated that, to prevent disputes, the government

should nominate certain persons who were not physicians, to be present at

the experiments; and that the object of the inquiry should be, not how

these effects were produced, but whether they were really efficacious in

the cure of any disease. The faculty objected to limit the inquiry in this

manner, and the proposition fell to the ground.

Mesmer now wrote to Marie Antoinette, with the view of securing her

influence in obtaining for him the protection of government. He wished to

have a château and its lands given to him, with a handsome yearly income,

that he might be enabled to continue his experiments at leisure,

untroubled by the persecution of his enemies. He hinted the duty of

governments to support men of science, and expressed his fear, that if he

met no more encouragement, he should be compelled to carry his great

discovery to some other land more willing to appreciate him. "In the eyes

of your majesty," said he, "four or five hundred thousand francs, applied

to a good purpose, are of no account. The welfare and happiness of your

people are every thing. My discovery ought to be received and rewarded

with a munificence worthy of the monarch to whom I shall attach myself."

The government at last offered him a pension of twenty thousand francs,

and the cross of the order of St. Michael, if he had made any discovery in

medicine, and would communicate it to physicians nominated by the king.

The latter part of the proposition was not agreeable to Mesmer. He feared

the unfavourable report of the king's physicians; and, breaking off the

negotiation, spoke of his disregard of money, and his wish to have his

discovery at once recognised by the government. He then retired to Spa, in

a fit of disgust, upon pretence of drinking the waters for the benefit of

his health.

After he had left Paris, the Faculty of Medicine called upon M. D'Eslon,

for the third and last time, to renounce the doctrine of animal magnetism,

or be expelled from their body. M. D'Eslon, so far from doing this,

declared that he had discovered new secrets, and solicited further

examination. A royal commission of the Faculty of Medicine was, in

consequence, appointed on the 12th of March 1784, seconded by another

commission of the Académie des Sciences, to investigate the phenomena and

report upon them. The first commission was composed of the

principal physicians of Paris; while, among the eminent men comprised in

the latter, were Benjamin Franklin, Lavoisier, and Bailly the historian of

astronomy. Mesmer was formally invited to appear before this body, but

absented himself from day to day, upon one pretence or another. M. D'Eslon

was more honest, because he thoroughly believed in the phenomena, which it

is to be questioned if Mesmer ever did, and regularly attended the

sittings and performed experiments.

Bailly has thus described the scenes of which he was a witness in the

course of this investigation. "The sick persons, arranged in great numbers

and in several rows around the _baquet_, receive the magnetism, by all

these means: by the iron rods which convey it to them from the

_baquet_--by the cords wound round their bodies--by the connexion of the

thumb, which conveys to them the magnetism of their neighbours--and by the

sounds of a piano-forte, or of an agreeable voice, diffusing the magnetism

in the air. The patients were also directly magnetised by means of the

finger and wand of the magnetiser moved slowly before their faces, above

or behind their heads, and on the diseased parts, always observing the

direction of the holes. The magnetiser acts by fixing his eyes on them.

But above all, they are magnetised by the application of his hands and the

pressure of his fingers on the hypochondres and on the regions of the

abdomen; an application often continued for a long time--sometimes for

several hours.

"Meanwhile the patients in their different conditions present a very

varied picture. Some are calm, tranquil, and experience no effect. Others

cough, spit, feel slight pains, local or general heat, and have sweatings.

Others again are agitated and tormented with convulsions. These

convulsions are remarkable in regard to the number affected with them, to

their duration and force. As soon as one begins to be convulsed, several

others are affected. The commissioners have observed some of these

convulsions last more than three hours. They are accompanied with

expectorations of a muddy viscous water, brought away by violent efforts.

Sometimes streaks of blood have been observed in this fluid. These

convulsions are characterised by the precipitous, involuntary motion of

all the limbs, and of the whole body; by the contraction of the throat--by

the leaping motions of the hypochondria and the epigastrium--by the

dimness and wandering of the eyes--by piercing shrieks, tears, sobbing,

and immoderate laughter. They are preceded or followed by a state of

langour or reverie, a kind of depression, and sometimes drowsiness. The

smallest sudden noise occasions a shuddering; and it was remarked, that

the change of measure in the airs played on the piano-forte had a

great influence on the patients. A quicker motion, a livelier melody,

agitated them more, and renewed the vivacity of their convulsions.

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