LITERARY TOUCHES
NATURE AFFORDS A UNIVERSAL MEANS OF
HEALING AND PRESERVING MEN.
Anton Mesmer
The “touches” of literary people have had large influence on thousands over the ages. Some of them were also intimately – even manually – involved with magnetism and mesmerism.  From The
Life of Percy Bysshe Shelley, Thomas Medwin,
1847.
I have alluded to his physical sufferings — they, if they did not produce, tended to aggravate his mental ones. He was a martyr to the most painful complaint, Nephritis, for which he had, though with no alleviation, consulted the most eminent medical men, at home and abroad, and now was trying Scott’s vitriolic acid baths, much in vogue. This malady constantly menaced to end fatally. During its paroxysms he would roll on the floor in agony. I had seen animal magnetism practised in India — had myself benefited by it at Geneva, and at his earnest request, consented to try its efficacy on him during his next attack. One of them affected him during an evening, when two ladies, one of whom was Mrs. Shelley, were present. The imposition of my hand on his forehead, instantly put a stop to his spasms, and threw him into a deep slumber, which for want of a better name has been called somnambulism. He slept with his eyes open. During the continuance of it, I led him from one part of the room to the sofa in the other end; and when the trance was overpast, after the manner of all somnambulists, he would not admit that he had slept, or that he had made any replies, which I elicited from him by questioning; those replies being pitched in the same tone of voice as my own. He also during a second experiment improvised some Italian verses which were faultless, although he had at that time never written one. Shelley had never previously heard of Mesmerism, and I shewed him a treatise I composed, embodying most of the facts recorded by its adepts, and he was particularly struck by a passage in Tacitus, no credulous historian, who seriously related two cases (witnessed he says by many living) in Egypt, that might stagger the most sceptical. “Does it lead to materialism or immaterialism!” Shelley thought to the latter — “that a separation from the mind and body took place” — the one being most active and the other an inert mass of matter. He deduced from this phenomenon an additional argument for the immortality of the soul, of which no man was more fully persuaded. After my departure from Pisa, he was magnetised by a lady, which gave rise to the beautiful stanzas entitled “The Magnetic Lady to her Patient,” and during which operation, he made the same reply to an inquiry as to his disease, and its cure, as he had done to me, — “What would cure me would kill me,” — meaning lithotomy. Mrs. Shelley also magnetised him, but soon discontinued the practice, from finding that he got up in his sleep, and went one night to the window, (fortunately barred,) having taken to his old habit of sleep-walking, which I mentioned, in his boyhood, and also in London.  From Dickens
and Mesmer by Fred Kaplan, 1975.
Charles Dickens became friends with the de la Rue family on a trip to Italy. He soon became Madame de la Rue’s confidant and healer. At the time, she was suffering from a frequent facial tic and nervous headaches. She also moved frequently between active sociability and being a “sad invalid.” Mr. Dickens had been tutored in the theories of mesmerism and witnessed numerous exhibitions of magnetism by Dr. John Elliotson at London University Hospital. Dickens and Elliotson became fast friends which supported the Boz’s growing interests in the “new medicine.” With that background and “energy in his hands,” Dickens believed he could share some of his restless energy for healing purposes with Madame de la Rue. She became his patient, and he her “humble servant and physician.” Dickens followed standard techniques of the times and achieved successes from the outset. Beyond that when the two were parted by the travels of the de la Rues or the Dickens families, Charles spent time in sessions of distant healing with his patient. Maintaining a regular correspondence with Monsieur de la Rue, before long, “Dickens had an astounding story for the de la Rue’s consideration, which was to be told to Madame only to the extent that her husband thought wise. What had happened ‘was really quite a fearful thing, and the strangest instance of the strange mysteries that are hidden within this power, that I have ever seen or heard of.’ “Aware of how difficult of belief the occurrence was, Dickens wrote to de la Rue that if he read it in print it would seem unbelievable. He and Madame had agreed that at eleven o’clock each morning Dickens would concentrate for one hour on his patient. On the road to La Scala, Dickens sat within the carriage, not on top, as was his usual custom. Instead, Mrs. Dickens had ‘been hoisted up’ for the fresh air. Dickens paid no attention to her, remaining absolutely still and concentrating his entire being with absolute and unwavering intensity on mesmerizing ‘our patient.’ “No one could possibly know what he was doing, particularly Catherine [Mrs. Dickens]. Would anyone believe that after five or ten minutes he was startled to hear Catherine’s muff fall and that when he looked up at her he found her ‘in mesmeric trance, with her eyelids quivering in a convulsive manner peculiar to some people in that state”? Her extremities were cold, all her senses numbed. he was able to awaken her only with considerable effort and, in response to his question, she said that ‘she had been magnetized.’ Until the magnetic effect wore off, she trembled badly. “Dickens’s astonishment was at the demonstration of his own powers more than at the existence of the powers themselves and their mode of transference. He was at pains to assert that he had not fictionalized or dramatized the event …”  From Vanity Fair, by William Makepeace Thackeray, 1848. What is the secret mesmerism which friendship possesses, and under the operation of which a person ordinarily sluggish, or cold, or timid, becomes wise, active, and resolute, in another’s behalf? As Alexis, after a few passes from Dr. Elliotson, despises pain, reads with the back of his head, sees miles off, looks into next week, and performs other wonders, of which, in his own private normal condition, he is quite incapable; so you see, in the affairs of the world and under the magnetism of friendships, the modest man becomes bold, the shy confident, the lazy active, or the impetuous prudent and peaceful. What is it, on the other hand, that makes the lawyer eschew his own cause, and call in his learned brother as an adviser? And what causes the doctor, when ailing, to send for his rival, and not sit down and examine his own tongue in the chimney glass, or write his own prescription at his study-table? I throw out these queries for intelligent readers to answer, who know, at once, how credulous we are, and how sceptical, how soft and how obstinate, how firm for others and how diffident about ourselves: meanwhile, it is certain that our friend William Dobbin, who was personally of so complying a disposition that if his parents had pressed him much, it is probable he would have stepped down into the kitchen and married the cook, and who, to further his own interests, would have found the most insuperable difficulty in walking across the street, found himself as busy and eager in the conduct of George Osborne’s affairs, as the most selfish tactician could be in the pursuit of his own.  From Harriet
Martineau by Mrs. F. Fenwick Miller, 1887.
Harriet
Martineau was a British journalist and writer of the
19th century who wrote successfully on social life and
issues. When she experienced her own significant
illness – a uterine tumor, Martineau wrote the
influential book called Life in the Sickroom in which
she sought to empower patients and invalids of the day
to make their own decisions and pursue meaningful
lives in spite of their circumstances. Along the
way, she encountered mesmerism-magnetism and
eventually submitted to treatment by a number of
practitioners.
In declining health in 1839, she undertook a continental journey which aggravated her condition. In Venice, she was compelled to consult a physician who found her to be suffering from a tumor, causing pain and hemorrhages. From 1839 to 1844, her physical sufferings were severe, and almost unceasing. She could not go out of the house, and alternated only between her bed in one room and her couch in another. At the same time her pain was so great that she was compelled to take opiates daily. “The pain itself becomes more odious, more oppressive, more feared in proportion to the accumulation of experience of weary hours, in proportion to the aggregate of painful associations which every visitation revives…. This sickness increased to such a degree that for two years she was extremely low from want of food.” Still, Miss Martineau produced as many significant works as writers most active in ordinary health. Her articles, children’s stories, and novels continued to be received by the public. Her major novels were highly regarded by the likes of Thomas Carlyle. In 1844 the long illness came to an end. Harriet Martineau was restored to perfect health by means of mesmerism. Such a cure of such a person could not fail to make a great sensation. A number of her friends had urged her to try mesmerism; but she had thought it right to give orthodox medicines the fullest trial. Eventually, even her personal physician suggested that she should be mesmerized. Miss Martineau admitted that, “it was not recovery that was in my thoughts, but only solace. It never presented itself to me as possible that disease so long and deeply fixed could be removed; and I was perfectly sincere in saying, that the utmost I looked for was release from my miserable dependence on opiates.” On a Saturday in June, “Mr. Spencer Hall and my medical friend came, as arranged, at my worst hour of the day, between the expiration of one opiate and the taking of another. By an accident, the gentlemen were rather in a hurry, — a circumstance unfavourable to a first experiment. But result enough was obtained to encourage a further trial, though it was of a nature entirely unanticipated by me. I had no other idea than that I should either drop asleep or feel nothing. I did not drop asleep, and I did feel something very strange. Various passes were tried by Mr. Hall; the first that appeared effectual, and the most so for some time after, were passes over the head, made from behind, — passes from the forehead to the back of the head, and a little way down the spine. A very short time after these were tried, and twenty minutes from the beginning of the seance, I became sensible of an extraordinary appearance, most unexpected, and wholly unlike anything I had ever conceived of. Something seemed to diffuse itself through the atmosphere, — not like smoke, nor steam, nor haze, — but most like a clear twilight, closing in from the windows and down from the ceiling, and in which one object after another melted away, till scarcely anything was left visible before my wide-open eyes. First, the outlines of all objects were blurred; then a bust, standing on a pedestal in a strong light, melted quite away; then the opposite bust; then the table with its gay cover, then the floor, and the ceiling, till one small picture, high up on the opposite wall, only remained visible, — like a patch of phosphoric light I feared to move my eyes, lest the singular appearance should vanish; and I cried out, ‘O! deepen it! deepen it!’ supposing this the precursor of the sleep. “It could not be deepened, however; and when I glanced aside from the luminous point, I found that I need not fear the return of objects to their ordinary appearance while the passes were continued. The busts reappeared, ghost-like, in the dim atmosphere, like faint shadows, except that their outlines, and the parts in the highest relief, burned with the same phosphoric light. The features of one, an Isis with bent head, seemed to be illumined by a fire on the floor, though this bust has its back to the windows. Wherever I glanced, all outlines were dressed in this beautiful light; and so they have been, at every seance, without exception, to this day; though the appearance has rather given way to drowsiness since I left off opiates entirely. This appearance continued during the remaining twenty minutes before the gentlemen were obliged to leave me. The other effects produced were, first, heat, oppression and sickness, and, for a few hours after, disordered stomach; followed, in the course of the evening, by a feeling of lightness and relief, in which I thought I could hardly be mistaken. “On occasions of a perfectly new experience, however, scepticism and self-distrust are very strong. I was aware of this beforehand, and also, of course, of the common sneer — that mesmeric effects are ‘all imagination.’ When the singular appearances presented themselves, I thought to myself, — ‘Now, shall I ever believe that this was all fancy? When it is gone, and when people laugh, shall I ever doubt having seen what is now as distinct to my waking eyes as the rolling waves of yonder sea, or the faces round my sofa?’ I did a little doubt it in the course of the evening: I had some misgivings even so soon as that; and yet more the next morning, when it appeared like a dream. “Great was the comfort, therefore, of recognising the appearances on the second afternoon. ‘Now,’ thought I, ‘can I again doubt?’ I did, more faintly; but, before a week was over, I was certain of the fidelity of my own senses in regard to this, and more. “There was no other agreeable experience on this second afternoon. Mr. Hall was exhausted and unwell, from having mesmerised many patients; and I was more oppressed and disordered than on the preceding day, and the disorder continued for a longer time; but again, towards night, I felt refreshed and relieved. How much of my ease was to be attributed to Mesmerism, and how much to my accustomed opiate, there was no saying, in the then uncertain state of my mind. “The next day, however, left no doubt. Mr. Hall was prevented by illness from coming over, too late to let me know. Unwilling to take my opiate while in expectation of his arrival, and too wretched to do without some resource, I rang for my maid, and asked whether she had any objection to attempt what she saw Mr. Hall do the day before. With the greatest alacrity she complied. Within one minute the twilight and phosphoric lights appeared; and in two or three more, a delicious sensation of ease spread through me, — a cool comfort, before which all pain and distress gave way, oozing out, as it were, at the soles of my feet. During that hour, and almost the whole evening, I could no more help exclaiming with pleasure than a person in torture crying out with pain. I became hungry, and ate with relish, for the first time for five years. There was no heat, oppression, or sickness during the seance, nor any disorder afterwards. During the whole evening, instead of the lazy hot ease of opiates, under which pain is felt to lie in wait, I experienced something of the indescribable sensation of health, which I had quite lost and forgotten. I walked about my rooms, and was gay and talkative. Something of this relief remained till the next morning ; and then there was no reaction. I was no worse than usual; and perhaps rather better. “Under her hands the visual appearances and other immediate sensations were much the same as before; but the experience of recovery was more rapid. I can describe it only by saying, that I felt as if my life were fed from day to day. The vital force infused or induced was as clear and certain as the strength given by food to those who are faint from hunger. “Nothing is to me more unquestionable and more striking about this influence than the absence of all reaction. Its highest exhilaration is followed, not by depression or exhaustion, but by a further renovation. From the first hour to the present, I have never fallen back a single step. Every point gained has been steadily held. Improved composure of nerve and spirits has followed upon every mesmeric exhilaration. I have been spared all the weaknesses of convalescence, and carried through all the usually formidable enterprises of return from deep disease to health with a steadiness and tranquillity astonishing to all witnesses. At this time, before venturing to speak of my health as established, I believe myself more firm in nerve, more calm and steady in mind and spirits, than at any time of my life before. So much, in consideration of the natural and common fear of the mesmeric influence as pernicious excitement, — as a kind of intoxication. “When Mr. Hall saw how congenial was the influence of this new Mesmerist, he advised our going on by ourselves, which we did till the 6th of September. I owe much to Mr. Hall for his disinterested zeal and kindness. He did for me all he could; and it was much to make a beginning, and put us in the way of proceeding.” For a time, Miss Martineau’s maid Margaret continued treatments until Mrs. Wyngard, a young widow, undertook the work. “In pure zeal and benevolence this lady came to me, and has been with me ever since. When I found myself able to repose on the knowledge and power (mental and moral) of my mesmerist the last impediments to my progress were cleared away and I improved accordingly.” Thereafter, Harriet Martineau continued in robust health for ten years. She walked sixteen to twenty miles in a day, on occasion. In her travels, she rode a camel in the heart of the Egyptian desert as well as hundreds of miles on horseback, through Palestine to Damascus, and back to the Levant. ~~~
Harriet Martineau’s cow, August 19th, 1850. “Dear Dr. Elliotson, – Your note has just reached me, having been forwarded from home. The story of the cow is this: – One very hot evening in July, I took some young cousins to see my stock; and I saw a small pail half full of blood at the door of the cow house. During my absence that day, my cow, Ailsie, had been taken violently ill, so that the servants had sent to Rydal for the cow-doctor, who had bled her, and given her strong medicines. This had been done some hours before I saw her; and the doctor had said that if she was not much relieved before his evening visit, he was sure she would die. There were no signs of relief in any way when I saw her at seven o'clock, nor when the doctor came, soon after eight. He said she could not recover, and it was a chance if she lived till morning. At ten, she was worse; and, to be sore, no creature could appear in a more desperate state. She was struggling for breath, quivering, choking, and all in a flame of fever. Her eyes were starting; her mouth and nostrils dry; and the functions suspended, as they had been all day. “It occurred to me then to have her mesmerised; but, I am afraid, I was rather ashamed. The man knew nothing whatever about mesmerism, except the fact that I had once done it, with success, to his sister. I believe he had not the remotest idea what was done, or what it meant. “I desired him to come up to the house at twelve o'clock, and let me know Ailsie’s state. As I sat during those two hours, I remembered how I had known cats affected by mesmerism, and how Sullivan, the whisperer, tamed vicious horses, and Catlin learned from the Indians how to secure buffalo calves by what seemed clearly to be mesmerism; and I determined to try it upon the cow, if by midnight she proved to be past the power of medicine. “At midnight I went down, and found that there was no improvement or promise of any. I then directed the man to mesmerise her, and showed him how. He was to persevere, till he saw some decided change, in making passes along the spine, from the head to the tail, and also across the chest, as she laboured more dreadfully than ever in her breathing. Within a few minutes her breathing became easier, her eye less wild, her mouth moist, and before morning she was relieved in all ways. “The first news I heard was of the astonishment of the Rydal doctor, who came early, without an idea that she could be alive. He exclaimed that he had ‘never thought to see her alive again;’ that ‘it was a good £10 in Miss M.’s pocket;’ and so forth. One thing struck me much. My man called to me as I was in the garden, and asked me to come and see how ‘Ailsie fared to go to sleep like,’ when he mesmerised her; and it really was curious to see how her eyes grew languid and gradually closed under the treatment. “This is not all. Towards noon, I was told that Ailsie had relapsed, and was almost as bad as ever. I went down, and saw that it was so, and ordered an hour’s mesmerising again. The relief was as striking as before, and in two hours more she was out of danger, and has been very well since. “I foresee how such a story may be ridiculed; but I perceive how important it is that we should gather some facts about the power of mesmerism over brutes, not only for truth’s and humanity’s sake, but because the establishment of a few such facts would dispose of the objection that the results of mesmerism are ‘all imagination.’ I am fond of my cow, and stand up for her good qualities, but I cannot boast of any imaginative faculty in her. A cow morbidly imaginative is a new idea, I believe. If it is true that the greatest chemist in the world says that he must believe if he saw a baby mesmerised, I would ask him whether a cow, or a cat, or a vicious horse, would not do as well. “If my cows are ever ill again, I will try the experiment with great care, and let you know the result. I may mention that some of my neighbours were aware of the desperate illness of the cow, and of her doctor’s astonishment at her recovery. We did not tell the doctor how we interfered with his patient, and I dare say he has not heard of it at this hour: but others of my neighbours were deeply interested in the story, and wished it could be made known. To this I can have no objection, as I do not mind a laugh, and should be glad to save the life of even a single cow. “I am,
dear Dr. Elliotson,
“Yours truly, HARRIET MARTINEAU.” |
The Great Physician
Love Heals
“Even as there is only one nature, one life, one health,
there is, only one disease, one remedy, one healing.”
Mesmer
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