Hidden Minds (5 page)

Mesmer believed that physical diseases were caused by a magnetic fluid deficiency, which could be restored by provoking an attack (or seizure) called a crisis. His technique for inducing a crisis involved sitting in front of the patient (with his knees outside the patient’s knees), and sweeping his hands over the patient’s body (performing
grandes passes).
The patient’s thumbs might be briefly held between passes. In order to flood the patient’s torso with magnetic fluid, he would occasionally place one hand on the patient’s abdomen and the other at the base of the patient’s spine. Typically, the crisis incorporated a symptom of the underlying disease. Thus, an asthmatic might have difficulty breathing, whereas a person with epilepsy might experience convulsions (although it was the misfortune of one aristocrat, Madame de Berny, to experience a curative crisis involving an unexpected evacuation of the bowel).

Mesmer found that repeated provocation resulted in crises of decreasing intensity and a consequent reduction of symptom seventy. Very occasionally, while attempting to provoke a crisis, some of Mesmer’s patients looked into his eyes and became rather sleepy, an effect which was not investigated by Mesmer himself, but which nevertheless proved to be of considerable interest to some of his followers.

By 1775 Mesmer had acquired a reputation as an outstanding healer and was a firm favourite of the aristocracy, but in spite of this success he left Vienna for Paris in 1777. This sudden departure may have been due to a professional impropriety because Mesmer never saw his wife again. Ensconced in his new mansion on the Place Vendôme, Mesmer picked up where he had left off in Vienna, again becoming a fashionable doctor, but this time offering his treatment to an enthusiastic and decadent Parisian elite.

Owing to his immediate popularity, Mesmer developed a method of treating people en masse with the notorious
Baquet
– a device consisting of a large drum filled with bottles of water which Mesmer had previously magnetised. Around the drum, up to twenty patients could be arranged in order to benefit simultaneously from Mesmer’s superabundance of animal magnetism. With the introduction of the
Baquet,
Mesmer’s treatment procedures became increasingly like theatre: Mesmer would appear wearing a cloak decorated with alchemical symbols and then play the glass harmonica (an instrument that produced an eerie, ethereal sound). Large mirrors were erected in his magnetic salon to reflect invisible fluids and his assistants, like stage hands, were positioned to catch his convulsing patients. Contemporary woodcuts show a magus-like figure raising his hand and making women on the other side of the room swoon. It was an impressive show.

Needless to say, Mesmer soon attracted a following – mostly physicians -who eventually practised under the aegis of the Société de l’Harmonie, an unusual hybrid of college and masonic lodge dedicated to the practice of mesmerism. By 1784 Mesmer’s disciples were such a conspicuous presence that Louis XVI commanded that mesmerism should be the subject of two official investigations. The first was undertaken conjointly by the Académie des Sciences and the Académie de Médecine, while the second was undertaken by the Société Royale. With respect to the latter, it is interesting to note that one of the panel members was Benjamin franklin, not only the American ambassador, but also the inventor of Mesmer’s much-loved glass harmonica.

The findings of these investigations were unequivocal: Yes, it was true that patients benefited from Mesmer’s treatment, but this benefit had nothing whatsoever to do with Mesmer’s animal magnetism. Treatment gains were best attributed to a psychological factor that the learned gentlemen described as ‘imagination’ – or what modern doctors would now call the placebo effect. A powerful expectation of improvement, once aroused in a patient, is often followed by the remission of symptoms (irrespective of the treatment’s theoretical potency). For centuries, physicians have known that through the agency of the mind the body can be ‘fooled’ into feeling better. Mesmerism was simply a means of exploiting expectations of improvement in credulous patients.

Even though both investigations attacked Mesmer’s theoretical framework, the Société de l’Harmonie continued to expand, and new branches were established all over France. However, as with any expanding empire, it was difficult to maintain sovereignty in the more remote outposts. Many of Mesmer’s disciples started modifying his procedures, and some – influenced perhaps by the two enquiries – challenged his orthodoxy concerning the role of animal magnetism. Rifts opened. Factions emerged. The centre would not hold.

Mesmer could not keep the movement he had created in check. Moreover, at the same time his authority was being seriously undermined by humorists who mocked his excesses in cartoons, popular songs, and satirical plays. Mesmer’s reputation was finally irreparably damaged when he was invited to attend a meeting of the Lyons Société de l’Harmonie. Prince Henry of Prussia was in Lyons on a private visit and presented himself to Mesmer as a demonstration subject. The Prince’s high social rank and obvious scepticism were sufficient to overwhelm Mesmer, who discovered that his remarkable powers had chosen a most inopportune moment to desert him. He left Paris in 1785, and for many years his whereabouts were completely unknown. Even so, the Mesmeric bandwagon he had left behind rumbled on, continuing to attract the interest of a new generation of would-be mesmerists.

For the next twenty years Mesmer wandered through Europe – a man of reduced but significant means. A man who preferred the company of birds to people. When Mesmer died in 1815 most practitioners who called themselves mesmerists had no idea where he was, and, more importantly, none of their number was using his techniques to provoke therapeutic crises. They were doing something quite different.

Unlike Mesmer, Amand Marie Jacques de Chastenet, Marquis de Puységur, was a genuine aristocrat, whose ancestral home was a large castle and extensive estate near Soissons. Puységur was also a distinguished artillery officer and a keen amateur scientist (with a special interest in electricity).

He was introduced to Mesmer’s doctrine of animal magnetism by his brother, Comte Antoine-Hyacinte, but from the very beginning, expressed reservations about the propriety of inducing violent crises in vulnerable patients. Indeed, he found the phenomenon undignified, if not repellent. Subsequently he experimented with a more gentle therapeutic procedure that did not necessitate a dramatic, convulsive climax.

From 1784 Puységur began offering magnetic treatments to the peasants on his estate. His first two patients were young women suffering from toothache, both of whom were cured in the absence of crises. Puységur’s next patient, Victor Race (a young man with a respiratory disease), proved to be even more interesting. Victor responded to the treatment procedure in a very unusual way. After seven or eight minutes he fell into a kind of sleep, during which he was able to bold a perfectly sensible conversation, answer questions, sing songs, mimic shooting, and dance to imagined music; however, on waking, Race had no memory of any of these things.

Puységur experimented with other patients, and began to employ special instructions that encouraged ‘sleep’. Still encumbered by Mesmer’s theoretical framework, Puységur assumed that he had stumbled upon a new form of crisis – albeit a less dramatic form than Mesmer’s convulsive original. He called his new discovery ‘the perfect crisis’; however, this term was soon superseded by ‘magnetic sleep’ and then finally ‘artificial somnambulism’ (suggesting a progressive willingness to abandon Mesmer’s vocabulary). Somnambulism is the medical term for sleepwalking, and Puységur had obviously recognised that the two states (magnetic sleep and the sleepwalker’s trance) were close cousins. Puységur was leaning towards a psychological explanation, and eventually he concluded that artificial somnambulism had nothing to do with animal magnetism (a supposed physical force), but rather the imposition of the magnetiser’s will on that of his subject.

Thus began a major rift in Mesmeric circles. Two factions emerged: traditionalists, who followed Mesmer’s doctrine to the letter, and revisionists, who were more enthusiastic about Puységur’s new technique and explanatory framework. The latter group abandoned the provocation of dramatic crises, focused on sending their patients to sleep, and experimented with simpler treatment methods. They also questioned the efficacy of group treatments such as the
Baquet.
Mesmerism no longer required the presence of a magus and enough props to stage an amateur production of
The Magic Flute.
In fact, mesmerism no longer required Mesmer.

In Puységur’s wake, artificial somnambulism was understood to be therapeutic in several ways. Firstly, the trance state itself was thought to be beneficial because it possessed the same properties as any restorative or satisfying sleep. Secondly, when entranced, individuals were suggestible to the extent that certain symptoms could be removed by way of a simple command. However, such ‘treatments’ were only superficially effective, insofar as symptoms tended to reappear on waking. Finally, because artificial somnambulism was a kind of sleep, a dialogue could be established with pathogenic parts of the mind that were normally inaccessible. Thus, treatment sometimes took the form of a discussion between doctor and patient, with the patient replying to questions in his or her sleep. This presumably had a precedent in exorcism, during which priests were often called upon to bargain with evil spirits for the release of their host. Even so, the procedure merits obvious comparison with contemporary psychotherapy.

It is of some interest to note that a little-known Bavarian priest, Johann Joseph Gassner, acquired a considerable reputation as a healer by provoking therapeutic crises in his patients two years before Mesmer developed his magnetic treatment. According to Gassner, however, the therapeutic crises he provoked were caused by demonic entities, with whom he would converse before completing their exorcism with an authoritative command.

Although Puységur succeeded in transforming the practice of mesmerism, he was a reluctant revolutionary. He always considered himself a loyal follower of Mesmer and never intended to undermine the master’s teachings. Indeed, he visited the great man twice, accompanied by Victor Race, to share his discoveries, but Mesmer responded coldly and was obviously unimpressed, considering artificial somnambulism to be of little significance. After all, when his own patients had ‘drifted off’ he had thought nothing of it.

Artificial somnambulism proved to be an extremely useful tool for probing the human mind. Indeed, Puységur’s experiments revealed phenomena that could only be explained if the standard Enlightenment model – with its emphasis on rationality and transparency – was substantially revised. Kor example, the fact that patients could not remember what had happened to them while entranced suggested that the mind could keep secrets from itself. Clearly, Puységur’s patients could not have forgotten events that had transpired only a few moments earlier. This suggested that memories of being in the trance (and associated experiences) were present in the mind, but inaccessible. Puységur went on to demonstrate the mind’s capacity for self-deception even more dramatically by experimenting with what is now known as
post-hypnotic suggestion.
If an entranced individual is given a command to perform a simple behaviour (for example, ‘Scratch your nose whenever you hear the word “dog”‘), the command will continue to be obeyed even after waking. Such an individual will have no recollection of being given the command and will probably confabulate if asked to explain why the behaviour is being performed. Puységur had succeeded in hiding a set of instructions in the mind, thus demonstrating that there was a part of the mind which – although not available for conscious inspection – could nevertheless still influence behaviour.

A further intriguing observation of Puységur’s was that some of his patients seemed to be more knowledgeable when ‘asleep’ than when ‘awake’. For example, several individuals were able to diagnose their own problems and recommend treatments. This begged certain questions. Was artificial somnambulism allowing patients to recover information that had simply been forgotten? Or was there some vast, submerged library in the mind that could be consulted during sleep? Needless to say, the early romantic philosophers became particularly interested in Puységur’s work, being inclined to believe that his patients were obtaining information from the world soul -the universal unconscious. Artificial somnambulism was quickly perceived as a possible short cut to the numinous.

Puységur also discovered that the mind was capable of not only concealing information from itself, but also concealing (or at least denying) powerful sensory experiences. Patients were told that they would not feel pain in certain areas of the body, which could then be pricked with pins and probed with heated objects without causing any discomfort. If the sensory apparatus was still functioning, then those parts of the mind allocated for the registration of pain were being shut off. A door was being closed on pain, thus keeping it outside of awareness.

Unfortunately, Puységur’s investigations were interrupted by the revolution of 1789, and he spent two years in prison; however, when he was released he was able to recover his estate and go on to become the mayor of Soissons. He also continued to investigate artificial somnambulism. By the time of his death in 1835, almost all ‘mesmerists’ employed his procedures rather than those of Mesmer.

But there can be few individuals to whom the gods of posterity have been less generous than Puységur. In the early years of the nineteenth century ‘mesmerism’ (so called) continued to be endorsed by fringe medical practitioners (and a growing band of travelling entertainers); however, within a very short space of time the name of Amand-Marie-Jacques de Chastenet, Marquis de Puységur, sunk into total obscurity. Yet he had developed a method of exploring the mind which would prove to be of incalculable significance for future students of the unconscious.