Thus was magnetism laughed out of England for a time. In France the

revolution left men no leisure for studying it. The _Sociétés de

l'Harmonie_ of Strasbourg, and other great towns lingered for a while,

till sterner matters occupying men's attention, they were one after the

other abandoned, both by pupils and professors. The system, thus driven

from the first two nations of Europe, took refuge among the dreamy

philosophers of Germany. There the wonders of the magnetic sleep grew more

and more wonderful every day; the patients acquired the gift of prophecy;

their vision extended over all the surface of the globe; they could hear

and see with their toes and fingers, and read unknown languages, and

understand them too, by merely having the book placed on their stomachs.

Ignorant peasants, when once entranced by the grand mesmeric fluid, could

spout philosophy diviner than Plato ever wrote, descant upon the mysteries

of the mind with more eloquence and truth than the profoundest

metaphysicians the world ever saw, and solve knotty points of divinity

with as much ease as waking men could undo their shoe-buckles!

During the first twelve years of the present century little was heard of

animal magnetism in any country of Europe. Even the Germans forgot their

airy fancies, recalled to the knowledge of this every-day world by the

roar of Napoleon's cannon and the fall or the establishment of kingdoms.

During this period a cloud of obscurity hung over the science, which was

not dispersed until M. Deleuze published, in 1813, his _Histoire Critique

du Magnétisme Animal_. This work gave a new impulse to the half-forgotten

fancy. Newspapers, pamphlets, and books again waged war upon each other on

the question of its truth or falsehood; and many eminent men in the

profession of medicine recommenced inquiry with an earnest design to

discover the truth.

The assertions made in the celebrated treatise of Deleuze are thus summed

up:[75] "There is a fluid continually escaping from the human body," and

"forming an atmosphere around us," which, as "it has no determined

current," produces no sensible effects on surrounding individuals. It is,

however, "capable of being directed by the will;" and, when so directed,

"is sent forth in currents," with a force corresponding to the energy we

possess. Its motion is "similar to that of the rays from burning bodies;"

"it possesses different qualities in different individuals." It is capable

of a high degree of concentration, "and exists also in trees." The will of

the magnetiser, "guided by a motion of the hand, several times repeated in

the same direction," can fill a tree with this fluid. Most persons, when

this fluid is poured into them from the body and by the will of the

magnetiser, "feel a sensation of heat or cold" when he passes his hand

before them, without even touching them. Some persons, when sufficiently

charged with this fluid, fall into a state of somnambulism, or magnetic

ecstasy; and when in this state, "they see the fluid encircling the

magnetiser like a halo of light, and issuing in luminous streams from his

mouth and nostrils, his head and hands, possessing a very agreeable smell,

and communicating a particular taste to food and water."

[75] See the very clear, and dispassionate article upon the

subject in the fifth volume (1830) of _The Foreign Review_,

p. 96 et seq.

One would think that these "notions" were quite enough to be insisted upon

by any physician who wished to be considered sane; but they form only a

small portion of the wondrous things related by M. Deleuze. He further

said, "When magnetism produces somnambulism, the person who is in this

state acquires a prodigious extension of all his faculties. Several of his

external organs, especially those of sight and hearing, become inactive;

but the sensations which depend upon them take place internally.

Seeing and hearing are carried on by the magnetic fluid, which transmits

the impressions immediately, and without the intervention of any nerves or

organs directly to the brain. Thus the somnambulist, though his eyes and

ears are closed, not only sees and hears, but sees and hears much better

than he does when awake. In all things he feels the will of the

magnetiser, although that will be not expressed. He sees into the interior

of his own body, and the most secret organisation of the bodies of all

those who may be put _en rapport_, or in magnetic connexion, with him.

Most commonly, he only sees those parts which are diseased and disordered,

and intuitively prescribes a remedy for them. He has prophetic visions and

sensations, which are generally true, but sometimes erroneous. He

expresses himself with astonishing eloquence and facility. He is not free

from vanity. He becomes a more perfect being of his own accord for a

certain time, if guided wisely by the magnetiser, but wanders if he is

ill-directed."

According to M. Deleuze, any person could become a magnetiser and produce

these effects, by conforming to the following conditions, and acting upon

the following rules:

"Forget for a while all your knowledge of physics and metaphysics.

"Remove from your mind all objections that may occur.

"Imagine that it is in your power to take the malady in hand, and throw it

on one side.

"_Never reason for six weeks after you have commenced the study_.

"Have an active desire to do good; a firm belief in the power of

magnetism, and an entire confidence in employing it. In short, repel all

doubts; desire success, and act with simplicity and attention."

That is to say, "be very credulous; be very persevering; reject all past

experience, and do not listen to reason," and you are a magnetiser after

M. Deleuze's own heart.

Having brought yourself into this edifying state, "remove from the patient

all persons who might be troublesome to you; keep with you only the

necessary witnesses--a single person if need be; desire them not to occupy

themselves in any way with the processes you employ and the effects which

result from them, but to join with you in the desire of doing good to your

patient. Arrange yourself so as neither to be too hot nor too cold, and in

such a manner that nothing may obstruct the freedom of your motions; and

take precautions to prevent interruption during the sitting. Make your

patient then sit as commodiously as possible, and place yourself opposite

to him, on a seat a little more elevated, in such a manner that his knees

may be betwixt yours, and your feet at the side of his. First, request him

to resign himself; to think of nothing; not to perplex himself by

examining the effects which may be produced; to banish all fear; to

surrender himself to hope, and not to be disturbed or discouraged if the

action of magnetism should cause in him momentary pains. After having

collected yourself, take his thumbs between your fingers in such a way

that the internal part of your thumbs may be in contact with the internal

part of his, _and then fix your eyes upon him_! You must remain from two

to five minutes in this situation, or until you feel an equal heat between

your thumbs and his. This done, you will withdraw your hands, removing

them to the right and left; and at the same time turning them till their

internal surface be outwards, and you will raise them to the height of the

head. You will now place them upon the two shoulders, and let them remain

there about a minute; afterwards drawing them gently along the arms to the

extremities of the fingers, touching very slightly as you go. You will

renew this pass five or six times, always turning your hands, and removing

them a little from the body before you lift them. You will then place them

above the head; and after holding them there for an instant, lower them,

passing them before the face, at the distance of one or two inches, down

to the pit of the stomach. There you will stop them two minutes also,

putting your thumbs upon the pit of the stomach and the rest of your

fingers below the ribs. You will then descend slowly along the body to the

knees, or rather, if you can do so without deranging yourself, to the

extremity of the feet. You will repeat the same processes several times

during the remainder of the sitting. You will also occasionally approach

your patient, so as to place your hands behind his shoulders, in order to

descend slowly along the spine of the back and the thighs, down to the

knees or the feet. After the first passes, you may dispense with putting

your hands upon the head, and may make the subsequent passes upon the

arms, beginning at the shoulders, and upon the body, beginning at the

stomach."

Such was the process of magnetising recommended by Deleuze. That delicate,

fanciful, and nervous women, when subjected to it, should have worked

themselves into convulsions will be readily believed by the sturdiest

opponent of animal magnetism. To sit in a constrained posture--be stared

out of countenance by a fellow who enclosed her knees between his, while

he made _passes_ upon different parts of her body, was quite enough to

throw any weak woman into a fit, especially if she were predisposed to

hysteria, and believed in the efficacy of the treatment. It is just as

evident that those of stronger minds and healthier bodies should be sent

to sleep by the process. That these effects have been produced by these

means, there are thousands of instances to shew. But are they testimony in

favour of animal magnetism?--do they prove the existence of the

magnetic fluid? It needs neither magnetism, nor ghost from the grave, to

tell us that silence, monotony, and long recumbency in one position, must

produce sleep; or that excitement, imitation, and a strong imagination

acting upon a weak body, will bring on convulsions.

M. Deleuze's book produced quite a sensation in France; the study was

resumed with redoubled vigour. In the following year, a journal was

established devoted exclusively to the science, under the title of

_Annales du Magnétisme Animal_; and shortly afterwards appeared the

_Bibliothèque du Magnétisme Animal_, and many others. About the same time,

the Abbé Faria, "the man of wonders," began to magnetise; and the belief

being that he had more of the mesmeric fluid about him, and a stronger

will, than most men, he was very successful in his treatment. His

experiments afford a convincing proof that imagination can operate all,

and the supposed fluid none, of the results so confidently claimed as

evidence of the new science. He placed his patients in an arm-chair; told

them to shut their eyes; and then, in a loud commanding voice, pronounced

the single word, "Sleep!" He used no manipulations whatever--had no

_baquet_, or conductor of the fluid; but he nevertheless succeeded in

causing sleep in hundreds of patients. He boasted of having in his time

produced five thousand somnambulists by this method. It was often

necessary to repeat the command three or four times; and if the patient

still remained awake, the abbé got out of the difficulty by dismissing him

from the chair, and declaring that he was incapable of being acted on. And

it should be especially remarked that the magnetisers do not lay claim to

universal efficacy for their fluid; the strong and the healthy cannot be

magnetised; the incredulous cannot be magnetised; those who reason upon it

cannot be magnetised; those who firmly believe in it can be magnetised;

the weak in body can be magnetised, and the weak in mind can be

magnetised. And lest, from some cause or other, individuals of the latter

classes should resist the magnetic charm, the apostles of the science

declare that there are times when even _they_ cannot be acted upon; the

presence of one scorner or unbeliever may weaken the potency of the fluid

and destroy its efficacy. In M. Deleuze's instructions to a magnetiser, he

expressly says, "Never magnetise before inquisitive persons!"[76]

[76] _Histoire Critique du Magnétisme Animal_, p. 60.

Here we conclude the subject, as it would serve no good purpose to extend

to greater length the history of Animal Magnetism; especially at a time

when many phenomena, the reality of which it is impossible to dispute, are

daily occurring to startle and perplex the most learned,

impartial, and truth-loving of mankind. Enough, however, has been stated

to shew, that if there be some truth in magnetism, there has been much

error, misconception, and exaggeration. Taking its history from the

commencement, it can hardly be said to have been without its uses. To

quote the words of Bailly, in 1784, "Magnetism has not been altogether

unavailing to the philosophy which condemns it: it is an additional fact

to record among the errors of the human mind, and a great experiment on

the strength of the imagination." Over that vast inquiry of the influence

of mind over matter,--an inquiry which the embodied intellect of mankind

will never be able to fathom completely,--it will at least have thrown a

feeble and imperfect light. It will have afforded an additional proof of

the strength of the unconquerable will, and the weakness of matter as

compared with it; another illustration of the words of the inspired

Psalmist, that "we are fearfully and wonderfully made."

[Illustration]

INFLUENCE OF POLITICS AND RELIGION ON THE HAIR AND BEARD.

Speak with respect and honour

Both of the beard and the beard's owner.

_Hudibras_.

The famous declaration of St. Paul, "that long hair was a shame unto a

man," has been made the pretext for many singular enactments, both of

civil and ecclesiastical governments. The fashion of the hair and the cut

of the beard were state questions in France and England, from the

establishment of Christianity until the fifteenth century.

We find, too, that in much earlier times, men were not permitted to do as

they liked with their own hair. Alexander the Great thought that the

beards of the soldiery afforded convenient handles for the enemy to lay

hold of, preparatory to cutting off their heads; and, with a view of

depriving them of this advantage, he ordered the whole of his army to be

closely shaven. His notions of courtesy towards an enemy were quite

different from those entertained by the North American Indians, and

amongst whom it is held a point of honour to allow one "chivalrous lock"

to grow, that the foe, in taking the scalp, may have something to catch

hold of.

At one time, long hair was the symbol of sovereignty in Europe. We learn

from Gregory of Tours, that, among the successors of Clovis, it was the

exclusive privilege of the royal family to have their hair long and

curled. The nobles, equal to kings in power, would not shew any

inferiority in this respect, and wore not only their hair, but their

beards of an enormous length. This fashion lasted, with but slight

changes, till the time of Louis the Debonnaire; but his successors, up to

Hugh Capet, wore their hair short, by way of distinction. Even the serfs

had set all regulation at defiance, and allowed their locks and beards to

grow.

At the time of the invasion of England by William the Conqueror, the

Normans wore their hair very short. Harold, in his progress towards

Hastings, sent forward spies to view the strength and number of the enemy.

They reported, amongst other things, on their return, that "the host did

almost seem to be priests, because they had all their face and both their

lips shaven." The fashion among the English at the time was to wear the

hair long upon the head and the upper lip, but to shave the chin. When the

haughty victors had divided the broad lands of the Saxon thanes and

franklins among them, when tyranny of every kind was employed to make the

English feel that they were indeed a subdued and broken nation, the latter

encouraged the growth of their hair, that they might resemble as little as

possible their cropped and shaven masters.

This fashion was exceedingly displeasing to the clergy, and prevailed to a

considerable extent in France and Germany. Towards the end of the eleventh

century, it was decreed by the pope, and zealously supported by the

ecclesiastical authorities all over Europe, that such persons as wore long

hair should be excommunicated while living, and not be prayed for when

dead. William of Malmesbury relates, that the famous St. Wulstan, Bishop

of Worcester, was peculiarly indignant whenever he saw a man with long

hair. He declaimed against the practice as one highly immoral, criminal,

and beastly. He continually carried a small knife in his pocket, and

whenever any body offending in this respect knelt before him to receive

his blessing, he would whip it out slily, and cut off a handful, and then,

throwing it in his face, tell him to cut off all the rest, or he would go

to hell.

But fashion, which at times it is possible to move with a wisp, stands

firm against a lever; and men preferred to run the risk of damnation to

parting with the superfluity of their hair. In the time of Henry I.,

Anselm, Archbishop of Canterbury, found it necessary to republish the

famous decree of excommunication and outlawry against the offenders; but,

as the court itself had begun to patronise curls, the fulminations of the

Church were unavailing. Henry I. and his nobles wore their hair in long

ringlets down their backs and shoulders, and became a _scandalum magnatum_

in the eyes of the godly. One Serlo, the king's chaplain, was so grieved

in spirit at the impiety of his master, that he preached a sermon from the

well-known text of St. Paul before the assembled court, in which he drew

so dreadful a picture of the torments that awaited them in the other

world, that several of them burst into tears, and wrung their hair, as if

they would have pulled it out by the roots. Henry himself was observed to

weep. The priest, seeing the impression he had made, determined to strike

while the iron was hot, and pulling a pair of scissors from his pocket,

cut the king's hair in presence of them all. Several of the principal

courtiers consented to do the like, and for a short time long hair

appeared to be going out of fashion. But the courtiers thought, after the

first glow of their penitence had been cooled by reflection, that the

clerical Delilah had shorn them of their strength, and in less than six

months they were as great sinners as ever.

Anselm, the Archbishop of Canterbury, who had been a monk of Bec, in

Normandy, and who had signalised himself at Rouen by his fierce opposition

to long hair, was still anxious to work a reformation in this matter. But

his pertinacity was far from pleasing to the king, who had finally made up

his mind to wear ringlets. There were other disputes, of a more serious

nature, between them; so that when the archbishop died, the king was so

glad to be rid of him, that he allowed the see to remain vacant for five

years. Still the cause had other advocates, and every pulpit in the land

resounded with anathemas against that disobedient and long-haired

generation. But all was of no avail. Stowe, in writing of this period,

asserts, on the authority of some more ancient chronicler, "that men,

forgetting their birth, transformed themselves, by the length of their

haires, into the semblance of woman kind;" and that when their hair

decayed from age, or other causes, "they knit about their heads certain

rolls and braidings of false hair." At last accident turned the tide of

fashion. A knight of the court, who was exceedingly proud of his beauteous

locks, dreamed one night that, as he lay in bed, the devil sprang upon

him, and endeavoured to choke him with his own hair. He started in

affright, and actually found that he had a great quantity of hair in his

mouth. Sorely stricken in conscience, and looking upon the dream as a

warning from heaven, he set about the work of reformation, and cut off his

luxuriant tresses the same night. The story was soon bruited abroad; of

course it was made the most of by the clergy, and the knight, being a man

of influence and consideration, and the acknowledged leader of the

fashion, his example, aided by priestly exhortations, was very generally

imitated. Men appeared almost as decent as St. Wulstan himself could have

wished, the dream of a dandy having proved more efficacious than the

entreaties of a saint. But, as Stowe informs us, "scarcely was one year

past, when all that thought themselves courtiers fell into the former

vice, and contended with women in their long haires." Henry, the king,

appears to have been quite uninfluenced by the dreams of others, for even

his own would not induce him a second time to undergo a cropping from

priestly shears. It is said, that he was much troubled at this time by

disagreeable visions. Having offended the Church in this and other

respects, he could get no sound, refreshing sleep, and used to imagine

that he saw all the bishops, abbots, and monks of every degree, standing

around his bed-side, and threatening to belabour him with their pastoral

staves; which sight, we are told, so frightened him, that he often started

naked out of his bed, and attacked the phantoms sword in hand. Grimbalde,

his physician, who, like most of his fraternity at that day, was an

ecclesiastic, never hinted that his dreams were the result of a bad

digestion, but told him to shave his head, be reconciled to the Church,

and reform himself with alms and prayer. But he would not take this good

advice, and it was not until he had been nearly drowned a year afterwards,

in a violent storm at sea, that he repented of his evil ways, cut his hair

short, and paid proper deference to the wishes of the clergy.

In France, the thunders of the Vatican with regard to long curly hair were

hardly more respected than in England. Louis VII., however, was more

obedient than his brother-king, and cropped himself as closely as a monk,

to the great sorrow of all the gallants of his court. His queen, the gay,

haughty, and pleasure-seeking Eleanor of Guienne, never admired him in

this trim, and continually reproached him with imitating, not only the

head-dress, but the asceticism of the monks. From this cause a coldness

arose between them. The lady proving at last unfaithful to her shaven and

indifferent lord, they were divorced, and the kings of France lost the

rich provinces of Guienne and Poitou, which were her dowry. She soon after

bestowed her hand and her possessions upon Henry Duke of Normandy,

afterwards Henry II. of England, and thus gave the English sovereigns that

strong footing in France which was for so many centuries the cause of such

long and bloody wars between the nations. When the Crusades had drawn all

the smart young fellows into Palestine, the clergy did not find it so

difficult to convince the staid burghers who remained in Europe, of the

enormity of long hair. During the absence of Richard Coeur de Lion, his

English subjects not only cut their hair close, but shaved their faces.

William Fitz-osbert, or Long-beard, the great demagogue of that day,

reintroduced among the people who claimed to be of Saxon origin the

fashion of long hair. He did this with the view of making them as unlike

as possible to the citizens and the Normans. He wore his own beard hanging

down to his waist, from whence the name by which he is best known to

posterity.

The Church never shewed itself so great an enemy to the beard as to long

hair on the head. It generally allowed fashion to take its own course,

both with regard to the chin and the upper lip. This fashion varied

continually; for we find that, in little more than a century after the

time of Richard I., when beards were short, that they had again become so

long as to be mentioned in the famous epigram made by the Scots who

visited London in 1327, when David, son of Robert Bruce, was married to

Joan, the sister of King Edward. This epigram, which was stuck on the

church-door of St. Peter Stangate, ran as follows:

"Long beards heartlesse,

Painted hoods witlesse,

Gray coats gracelesse,

Make England thriftlesse."

When the Emperor Charles V. ascended the throne of Spain he had no beard.

It was not to be expected that the obsequious parasites who always

surround a monarch, could presume to look more virile than their master.

Immediately all the courtiers appeared beardless, with the exception of

such few grave old men as had outgrown the influence of fashion, and who

had determined to die bearded as they had lived. Sober people in general

saw this revolution with sorrow and alarm, and thought that every manly

virtue would be banished with the beard. It became at the time a common

saying,--

"Desde que no hay barba, no hay mas alma."

We have no longer souls since we have lost our beards.

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