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Sterling - "Hacker Crackdown, by Bruce Sterling"

Edouard le Roy - "Henri Bergson"

Plato, translated by B. Jowett. - "Protagoras"

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Memoirs of Extraordinary Popular Delusions

C >> Charles Mackay >> Memoirs of Extraordinary Popular Delusions




Such is the marvellous story of Sir Kenelm Digby. Other
practitioners of that age were not behind him in absurdity. It was not
always necessary to use either the powder of sympathy, or the
weapon-salve, to effect a cure. It was sufficient to magnetise the
sword with the hand (the first faint dawn of the animal theory), to
relieve any pain the same weapon had caused. They pretended, that if
they stroked the sword upwards with their fingers, the wounded person
would feel immediate relief; but if they stroked it downwards, he
would feel intolerable pain.[Reginald Scott, quoted by Sir Walter
Scott, in the notes to the "Lay of the Last Minstrel," c. iii. v.
xxiii.]

Another very strange notion of the power and capabilities of
magnetism was entertained at the same time. It was believed that a
sympathetic alphabet could be made on the flesh, by means of which
persons could correspond with each other, and communicate all their
ideas with the rapidity of volition, although thousands of miles
apart. From the arms of two persons a piece of flesh was cut, and
mutually transplanted, while still warm and bleeding. The piece so
severed grew to the new arm on which it was placed; but still retained
so close a sympathy with its native limb, that its old possessor was
always sensible of any injury done to it. Upon these transplanted
pieces were tattooed the letters of the alphabet; so that, when a
communication was to be made, either of the persons, though the wide
Atlantic rolled between them, had only to prick his arm with a
magnetic needle, and straightway his friend received intimation that
the telegraph was at work. Whatever letter he pricked on his own arm
pained the same letter on the arm of his correspondent. ["Foreign
Quarterly Review," vol. xii. p. 417.] Who knows but this system, if it
had received proper encouragement, might not have rendered the
Post-Office unnecessary, and even obviated much of the necessity for
railroads? Let modern magnetisers try and bring it to perfection. It
is not more preposterous than many of their present notions; and, if
carried into effect, with the improvement of some stenographical
expedient for diminishing the number of punctures, would be much more
useful than their plan of causing persons to read with their great
toes, [Wirth's "Theorie des Somnambulismes," p. 79.] or seeing, with
their eyes shut, into other people's bodies, and counting the number
of arteries therein. ["Report of the Academic Royale de Medicine," --
case of Mademoiselle Celine Sauvage, p. 186.]

Contemporary with Sir Kenelm Digby, was the no less famous Mr.
Valentine Greatraks who, without mentioning magnetism, or laying claim
to any theory, practised upon himself and others a deception much more
akin to the animal magnetism of the present day, than the mineral
magnetism it was then so much the fashion to study. He was the son of
an Irish gentleman, of good education and property, in the county of
Cork. He fell, at an early age, into a sort of melancholy derangement.
After some time, he had an impulse, or strange persuasion in his mind,
which continued to present itself, whether he were sleeping or waking,
that God had given him the power of curing the king's evil. He
mentioned this persuasion to his wife, who very candidly told him that
he was a fool! He was not quite sure of this, notwithstanding the
high authority from which it came, and determined to make trial of the
power that was in him. A few days afterwards, he went to one William
Maher, of Saltersbridge, in the parish of Lismore, who was grievously
afflicted with the king's evil in his eyes, cheek, and throat. Upon
this man, who was of abundant faith, he laid his hands, stroked him,
and prayed fervently. He had the satisfaction to see him heal
considerably in the course of a few days; and, finally, with the aid
of other remedies, to be quite cured. This success encouraged him in
the belief that he had a divine mission. Day after day he had further
impulses from on high, that he was called upon to cure the ague also.
In the course of time he extended his powers to the curing of
epilepsy, ulcers, aches, and lameness. All the county of Cork was in a
commotion to see this extraordinary physician, who certainly operated
some very great benefit in cases where the disease was heightened by
hypochondria and depression of spirits. According to his own account,
[Greatraks' Account of himself, in a letter to the Honourable Robert
Boyle.] such great multitudes resorted to him from divers places, that
he had no time to follow his own business, or enjoy the company of his
family and friends. He was obliged to set aside three days in the
week, from six in the morning till six at night, during which time
only he laid hands upon all that came. Still the crowds which thronged
around him were so great, that the neighbouring towns were not able to
accommodate them. He thereupon left his house in the country, and went
to Youghal, where the resort of sick people, not only from all parts
of Ireland, but from England, continued so great, that the magistrates
were afraid they would infect the place by their diseases. Several of
these poor credulous people no sooner saw him than they fell into
fits, and he restored them by waving his hand in their faces, and
praying over them. Nay, he affirmed, that the touch of his glove had
driven pains away, and, on one occasion, cast out from a woman several
devils, or evil spirits, who tormented her day and night. "Every one
of these devils," says Greatraks, "was like to choke her, when it came
up into her throat." It is evident, from this, that the woman's
complaint was nothing but hysteria.

The clergy of the diocese of Lismore, who seem to have had much
clearer notions of Greatraks' pretensions than their parishioners, set
their faces against the new prophet and worker of miracles. He was
cited to appear in the Dean's Court, and prohibited from laying on his
hands for the future: but he cared nothing for the church. He imagined
that he derived his powers direct from Heaven, and continued to throw
people into fits, and bring them to their senses again, as usual,
almost exactly after the fashion of modern magnetisers. His reputation
became, at last, so great, that Lord Conway sent to him from London,
begging-that he would come over immediately, to cure a grievous
head-ache which his lady had suffered for several years, and which the
principal physicians of England had been unable to relieve.

Greatraks accepted the invitation, and tried his manipulations and
prayers upon Lady Conway. He failed, however, in affording any relief.
The poor lady's head-ache was excited by causes too serious to allow
her any help, even from faith and a lively imagination. He lived for
some months in Lord Conway's house, at Ragley, in Warwickshire,
operating cures similar to those he had performed in Ireland. He
afterwards removed to London, and took a house in Lincoln's Inn
Fields, which soon became the daily resort of all the nervous and
credulous women of the metropolis. A very amusing account of Greatraks
at this time (1665), is given in the second volume of the
"Miscellanies of St. Evremond," under the title of the Irish prophet.
It is the most graphic sketch ever made of this early magnetiser.
Whether his pretensions were more or less absurd than those of some of
his successors, who have lately made their appearance among us, would
be hard to say.

"When M. de Comminges," says St. Evremond, "was ambassador from
his most Christian Majesty to the King of Great Britain, there came to
London an Irish prophet, who passed himself off as a great worker of
miracles. Some persons of quality having begged M. de Comminges to
invite him to his house, that they might be witnesses of some of his
miracles, the ambassador promised to satisfy them, as much from his
own curiosity as from courtesy to his friends; and gave notice to
Greatraks that he would be glad to see him.

"A rumour of the prophet's coming soon spread all over the town,
and the hotel of M. de Comminges was crowded by sick persons, who came
full of confidence in their speedy cure. The Irishman made them wait a
considerable time for him, but came at last, in the midst of their
impatience, with a grave and simple countenance, that showed no signs
of his being a cheat. Monsieur de Comminges prepared to question him
strictly, hoping to discourse with him on the matters that he had read
of in Van Helmont and Bodinus; but he was not able to do so, much to
his regret, for the crowd became so great, and cripples and others
pressed around so impatiently to be the first cured, that the servants
were obliged to use threats, and even force, before they could
establish order among them, or place them in proper ranks.

"The prophet affirmed that all diseases were caused by evil
spirits. Every infirmity was with him a case of diabolical possession.
The first that was presented to him was a man suffering from gout and
rheumatism, and so severely that the physicians had been unable to
cure him. 'Ah,' said the miracle-worker, 'I have seen a good deal of
this sort of spirits when I was in Ireland. They are watery spirits,
who bring on cold shivering, and excite an overflow of aqueous humours
in our poor bodies.' Then addressing the man, he said, 'Evil spirit,
who hast quitted thy dwelling in the waters to come and afflict this
miserable body, I command thee to quit thy new abode, and to return to
thine ancient habitation!' This said, the sick man was ordered to
withdraw, and another was brought forward in his place. This new comer
said he was tormented by the melancholy vapours. In fact, he looked
like a hypochondriac; one of those persons diseased in imagination,
and who but too often become so in reality. 'Aerial spirit,' said
the Irishman, 'return, I command thee, into the air! -- exercise thy
natural vocation of raising tempests, and do not excite any more wind
in this sad unlucky body!' This man was immediately turned away to
make room for a third patient, who, in the Irishman's opinion, was
only tormented by a little bit of a sprite, who could not withstand
his command for an instant. He Pretended that he recognized this
sprite by some marks which were invisible to the company, to whom he
turned with a smile, and said, 'This sort of spirit does not often do
much harm, and is always very diverting.' To hear him talk, one would
have imagined that he knew all about spirits -- their names, their
rank, their numbers, their employment, and all the functions they were
destined to; and he boasted of being much better acquainted with the
intrigues of demons than he was with the affairs of men. You can
hardly imagine what a reputation he gained in a short time. Catholics
and Protestants visited him from every part, all believing that power
from Heaven was in his hands."

After relating a rather equivocal adventure of a husband and wife,
who implored Greatraks to cast out the devil of dissension which had
crept in between them, St. Evremond thus sums up the effect he
produced on the popular mind: -- "So great was the confidence in him,
that the blind fancied they saw the light which they did not see --
the deaf imagined that they heard -- the lame that they walked
straight, and the paralytic that they had recovered the use of their
limbs. An idea of health made the sick forget for a while their
maladies; and imagination, which was not less active in those merely
drawn by curiosity than in the sick, gave a false view to the one
class, from the desire of seeing, as it operated a false cure on the
other from the strong desire of being healed. Such was the power of
the Irishman over the mind, and such was the influence of the mind
upon the body. Nothing was spoken of in London but his prodigies; and
these prodigies were supported by such great authorities, that the
bewildered multitude believed them almost without examination, while
more enlightened people did not dare to reject them from their own
knowledge. The public opinion, timid and enslaved, respected this
imperious and, apparently, well-authenticated error. Those who saw
through the delusion kept their opinion to themselves, knowing how
useless it was to declare their disbelief to a people filled with
prejudice and admiration."

About the same time that Valentine Greatraks was thus magnetising
the people of London, an Italian enthusiast, named Francisco Bagnone,
was performing the same tricks in Italy, and with as great success. He
had only to touch weak women with his hands, or sometimes (for the
sake of working more effectively upon their fanaticism) with a relic,
to make them fall into fits and manifest all the symptoms of
magnetism.

Besides these, several learned men, in different parts of Europe,
directed their attention to the study of the magnet, believing it
might he rendered efficacious in many diseases. Van Helmont, in
particular, published a work on the effects of magnetism on the human
frame; and Balthazar Gracian, a Spaniard, rendered himself famous for
the boldness of his views on the subject. "The magnet," said the
latter, "attracts iron; iron is found everywhere; everything,
therefore, is under the influence of magnetism. It is only a
modification of the general principle, which establishes harmony or
foments divisions among men. It is the same agent which gives rise to
sympathy, antipathy, and the passions." ["Introduction to the Study of
Animal Magnetism," by Baron Dupotet de Sennevoy, p. 315.]

Baptista Porta, who, in the whimsical genealogy of the
weapon-salve, given by Parson Foster in his attack upon Dr. a
Fluctibus, is mentioned as one of its fathers, had also great faith in
the efficacy of the magnet, and operated upon the imagination of his
patients in a manner which was then considered so extraordinary that
he was accused of being a magician, and prohibited from practising by
the Court of Rome. Among others who distinguished themselves by their
faith in magnetism, Sebastian Wirdig and William Maxwell claim
especial notice. Wirdig was professor of medicine at the University of
Rostock in Mecklenburgh, and wrote a treatise called "The New Medicine
of the Spirits," which he presented to the Royal Society of London. An
edition of this work was printed in 1673, in which the author
maintained that a magnetic influence took place, not only between the
celestial and terrestrial bodies, but between all living things. The
whole world, he said, was under the influence of magnetism: life was
preserved by magnetism; death was the consequence of magnetism!

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
anything 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 anything. This passage, which is quoted with approbation by
M. Dupotet in a recent work ["Introduction to the Study of Animal
Magnetism," p. 318.] 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?

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 the spot. 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 civilization 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 Montegre,
whose account we quote [Dictionnaire des Sciences Medicales -- Article
"Convulsionnaires," par Montegre.] 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. Carre 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!

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 show 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 Boehmens, 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 organized 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 stigmatized 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 beforementioned. 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 anything 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, everything 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."

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