THERESE VON PARADIES.
Therese von Paradies was in her room; her mother stood near, for, with
the assistance of a maid, she had just completed her daughter's toilet.
Therese was elegantly dressed, and she seemed to enjoy her splendor
although she was not permitted to see it.
"Say, mother," said she, as the last touch had been given to her dress,
"of what material is my gown? It feels as soft as a young girl's cheek."
"It is satin, my child."
"Satin? And the color?"
"White."
"White!" repeated she, softly. "The color without color. How strange
that must be! I shudder when I think that I shall see it before long."
"Why should you shudder?" said her mother, tenderly. "You should
rejoice, dear child, that the world, with all its beauties, is about to
become known to you."
"I do not know," replied Therese, thoughtfully. "I shall enter upon a
new world which will astonish and perchance affright me by its
strangeness. Now I know you all in my heart, but when I see you I shall
no longer recognize you. Oh, mother, why do you wish me to be restored
to sight? I am very happy as I am."
"Silly child, you will be still happier when you see. It is absurd for
you to dread an event which will add a hundredfold to your enjoyment of
life."'
"And why absurd, dear mother? Does not the heart of the bride, on her
wedding-day, beat half in hope and half in fear? And is not her soul
filled with sweet apprehension? I am a bride--the bride of light--and I
await my lover to-day."
"Ah, who knows if light will come?" sighed the mother.
"It will come, mother," said Therese, confidently. "I felt it yesterday,
when, for a moment, Mesmer removed the bandage from my eyes. It was for
a second, but I SAW, and what I saw cut like a sharp sword athwart my
eyes, and I fell, almost unconscious."
"That was a ray of light---the first glance of your bridegroom!" cried
the mother, joyfully.
"Then I fear that I shall never be able to bear his presence," replied
Therese, sadly. "But tell me, mother, am I dressed as becomes a bride?"
"Yes, Therese, you are beautifully dressed; for to-day we receive a
throng of distinguished guests. The empress herself has sent one of her
lords in waiting, to bear her the tidings of your restoration to sight.
The two great doctors, Van Swieten and Stork, will be here to see the
marvel; and princes and princesses, lords and ladies, ministers and
generals, will be around you."
"How is my hair dressed?"
"It is dressed as you like it, a la Matignon. Pepi has built a tower
upon your head at least three quarters of an ell high, and above that is
a blue rosette, with long ends."
"It is indeed very high," replied Therese, laughing, "for I cannot reach
it with my hands. But I have another question to ask, dear mother.
Promise me that it shall be frankly answered."
"I promise."
"Well, then, tell me, is my appearance pleasing? Hitherto every one has
been kind to me because of my misfortune; but when I stand upon equal
footing with other women, do you think that I am pretty enough to give
pleasure to my friends?"
"Yes, my dear, you are very handsome," said the mother, smiling
lovingly at her child's simplicity. "Your figure is graceful, your face
is oval, your features are regular, and your brow is high and
thoughtful. When the light of day shall be reflected from your large,
dark eyes, you will be a beautiful woman, my daughter."
"Thank you, dear mother, these are pleasant tidings," said Therese,
kissing her.
"I must leave you, dearest," said her mother, softly disengaging herself
from Therese's arms. "I have my own toilet to make, and some preparations
for our guests. I will send the maid."
"No, dear mother, send no one. I need silence and solitude. I, too, have
preparations to make for the heavenly guest that visits me to-day. I
must strengthen my soul by prayer."
She accompanied her mother to the door, kissed her again, and returning,
seated herself at the harpsichord. And now from its keys came forth
sounds of mirth and melancholy, of love and complaint, of prayers and
tear. At one time she intoned a hymn of joy; then came stealing over the
air a melody that brought tears to the eyes of the musician; then it
changed and swelled into a torrent of gushing harmony.
Suddenly she paused, a tremor ran through her frame, and a blush slowly
mantled her cheek. Her hands fell, and her bosom heaved. As if drawn by
some invisible power, she rose from her instrument and went toward the
door. In the centre of the room she stopped and pressed her hands upon
her heart.
"He comes," murmured she, with a smile of ecstasy, "he mounts the
staircase, now he is in the corridor, his hand is upon the door."
Yes; the door opened so softly that the acutest ear could not have
detected a sound. But Therese felt it, and she would have gone forward,
but her feet were paralyzed, and she remained with outstretched arms.
With her heart she had seen him who now appeared upon the threshold. The
person, whose coming had so agitated the young girl, was a man of
scarcely forty years, of a lofty imposing carriage, and of prepossessing
features. His large, blue eyes rested upon Therese with a glance of
power, which thrilled through every fibre of her being. He held out his
right arm toward her; then slowly lowering it, he pointed to the floor.
Therese followed its motion and sank on her knees. A triumphant smile
beamed over Mesmer's face, and he raised his hand again. The girl arose,
and as though she had seen him open his arms, she darted forward and
laid her head upon his breast.
"Mesmer, my friend, my physician," whispered she, softly.
"Yes, it is I," replied Mesmer, in a rich, melodious voice. "Your heart
has seen me, your eyes shall see me too, my child."
He led her to a sofa and seated her gently beside him. Then passing his
outstretched band before her, she trembled.
"You are very much excited to-day, Therese," said he, with a slight tone
of disapprobation.
"I am excited because you are so, dear friend," said the blind girl.
"Your eyes dart beams that threaten to consume the world."
"A world of ignorance and of wickedness," said he, in reply. "Yes,
Therese, I will consume it to-day, and in its stead shall arise a
supernatural world; yet one to which banished Nature shall return and
claim her rights to man. Oh, will I have strength to say, 'Let there be
light!"'
"Dear friend, if you doubt the result, do not expose yourself to the
humiliation of failure. I am satisfied with my blindness, for I have a
world of light in my heart."
"No!" cried Mesmer, with energy, "the work is begun, it must be
completed. You MUST see, Therese, or all for which I have striven will
recoil upon my head, and bury me beneath its ruins. This day decides not
only your fate, poor child, but mine. To-day must Mesmer prove to the
world that the animal magnetism, which physicians deride as a quackery,
savans deny as impracticable, and the people ignorantly worship as
sorcery, is a golden link which binds humanity to heaven. To-day you
shall be healed by the magnetic power which binds you to me, and links
us both to God."
"Heal me then, dear master!" cried the girl, inspired by his enthusiasm.
"Restore me to sight, and, in so doing, give light to those who cannot
see your Godlike gift."
He laid his hand upon her shoulder, and gazed earnestly in her face.
"You have faith in me then, Theresa, have you not?"
"I believe in you, and I comprehend you, master. I know that I shall
see; and when the scales fall from my eyes, the light of conviction will
dawn for others. They will then comprehend that there is a power in
Nature stronger than the craft of bare human wisdom."
"Oh, you speak my very thoughts, dear Therese," said Mesmer, tenderly.
"You see into my mind, and its perceptions find birth upon your lips.
Let doctors sneer, and learned skeptics disbelieve, but the day will
come when all must acknowledge that magnetism is truth, and all human
wisdom lies. Physicians, though, will be its deadliest enemies, for they
are travellers, who, having strayed from the right path, go farther and
farther from truth, because they will not retrace their steps."
[Footnote: Mesmer's own words. See "Franz Anton Mesmer, of Suabia," by
Dr. Justinus Kerner. p. 58.]
"But you will show them the path, my master, and the world will honor
you above other men."
"If ingratitude do not blind it to truth. It is hard to find daylight in
the labyrinth of established faith. I, too, have wandered in this
labyrinth, but in all my divarications I sought for Truth. With
passionate longing I called her to my help. Far removed from the hum of
human imbecility, down among the solitudes of untrodden forests I sought
her. Here I was face to face with Nature, and listened for response to
the anxious questionings of my restless heart. It was well for me that
the trees were the only witnesses of my agitation, for my fellow-men,
had they met, would have chained me as a madman."
"Not I, master. I would have understood your noble strife."
Mesmer pressed her hand and went on: "Every occupation became
distasteful to me, every moment dedicated to aught else seemed to be
treason to truth. I regretted the time which it cost me to translate my
thoughts into words, and I formed the singular resolution of keeping
silence. For three months I reflected without speaking a word. At the
end of this time a new faculty unfolded itself in my mind, and I began
to see with rapture that the day of truth had dawned. I knew that
henceforth my life would be one long struggle against preconceived
error; but this did not affright me. So much the more did I feel the
obligation resting upon me to impart to my fellow-beings the gifts I had
received. I have suffered much from their prejudices; but most from the
sneers of envious physicians, who, sooner than receive a light from
other hands, would stumble in the night of their ignorance forever.
[Footnote: This whole conversation is in Mesmer's words. See Justinus
Kerner, p. 60.] But my day of triumph is here. You, Therese, are the
evangelist of my new faith, and your restored vision shall announce it
to the world!"
"It shall, dear master, it shall; and against their will these infidels
shall believe. They will see that we have all been blind together--all
but you, who, questioning in faith, have received your answer from on
high. Take the bandage from my eyes and let me see the light of day! I
tremble no longer with apprehension of its splendor!"
Mesmer held her back as she raised her hands to her head. "Not yet,
Therese. Your bandage must be removed in the presence of my enemies."
"Whom do you expect, master?"
"I have told you--I expect my enemies. Professor Barth will be there to
sneer at the charlatan who, by an invisible power, has healed the malady
which his couching knife would have sought in vain to remove. Doctor
Ingenhaus, my bitter rival, will be there, to find out by what infernal
magic the charlatan has cured hundreds of patients pronounced by him
incurable. Father Hell will be there, to see if the presence of a great
astronomer will not affright the charlatan. Oh, yes!--And others will be
there--none seeking knowledge, but all hoping to see me discomfited."
"Do not call yourself so often by that unworthy name," said Therese
sorrowfully.
"Men call me so; I may as well accept the title."
"Perhaps they have called you so in days gone by; but from this day they
will call you 'Master,' and will crave your pardon for the obloquy they
have heaped upon your noble head."
"How little you know of the world, Therese! It never pardons those who
convict it of error; and above all other hatred is the hatred that
mankind feel for their benefactors."
"Gracious Heaven, master, if this is the world which is to open to my
view, in mercy leave me to my blindness!"
She stopped suddenly, and sank back upon the cushion of the sofa. Mesmer
raised his hands and passed them before her forehead.
"You are too much excited. Sleep!"
"No, no, I do not wish to sleep," murmured she.
"I command you to sleep," repeated Mesmer.
Therese heaved a sigh; her head fell farther back, and her audible,
regular breathing soon proved that sleep had come at the bidding of her
master.
Mesmer bent over her, and began his manipulations. He approached her
lips, and opening her mouth, breathed into it. She smiled a happy smile.
He then raised his hands and touching the crown of her head described
half-circles in the air; then stooping over her, he again inhaled her
breath, and breathed his own into her mouth.
The door opened, and the mother of Therese came in.
"The guests are here," said she.
Mesmer inclined his head. "We are ready."
"Ready and Therese sleeps so soundly?"
"I will awake her when it is time. Where is my harmonicon?"
"In the parlor, where you ordered it to be placed."
"Let us go, then, and thence we will call Therese. "