Complete Works of Wilkie Collins (2187 page)

Which is the most credulous man — the man who believes all this, or the man who believes in the magnetic influence?

But how could this influence possibly act in the case now under review? Admitting the sympathy between the magnetizer and the person magnetized — the limitless power of the will of the one over the will of the other — how was it, if neither the Count
nor
V — knew anything of the nature or effects, on the human system, of Strychnine, that such results as I have mentioned were produced? Here was some strange influence working on the intellectual faculties, the nerves, and the whole vital principle — the question is
how
did it work? I cannot tell! Neither can I, nor anybody else, explain several other mysteries which every human being knows to be existing within himself. I have a thinking machine about me, commonly called a “brain” — by what process is it set working? What power, when I am asleep, and my will is entirely inactive, sets this thinking machine going — going as I cannot make it go, when my will is active, and I am awake? I know that I have a soul — what is it? where is it? when and how was it breathed into the breath of my life?
Is
Animal Magnetism the only mystery which the medical profession, and strong-minded unbelievers in general, cannot scientifically and logically explain? Shakspeare [sic] thought not —

“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

You will, I doubt not, wish to be informed of the condition in which V — appeared when she was awakened from the magnetic sleep, after having been the subject of the painful experiment which I have just related. She was not aroused for another hour and a half at least. During that period, other magnetic experiments were tried on her, which I shall mention hereafter, when I have more space to occupy than is now at my disposal. It was past midnight — more than three hours from the time when she had been first thrown into the sleep — when the process of awakening her began.

The passes made by the magnetizer were at first quick, but very gentle. Then he twice drew his hands sharply away from before her head, towards the ground. The second time he performed this action, she awoke; her eyes opened wide in an instant. They showed the same brightness and intelligence that we had remarked in them three hours ago, before she had fallen into the magnetic sleep. The change from the calm, blank, statuesque repose of her face in the magnetized state, to the lively, good-humoured expression of her face, in the waking state, was accomplished with the rapidity of a flash of lightning. There was no external appearance of any intermediate process whatever: looking at her countenance, you saw her, in obedience to a noiseless action of the magnetizer’s hands, pass from fast asleep to wide awake, before you would have had time to count one!

She had no idea whatever of anything that had passed since she had been first magnetized at nine o’clock. I asked whether she felt any pain anywhere. No! not the least pain of any kind. What were her sensations at the moment? No sensations particular — nothing but the feeling that she generally experienced when she was getting up in the morning — the feeling of being perfectly well. Had she really no faint recollections of having said, done, or felt anything, during the last three hours? — no vague idea, for instance, of having dreamt that she had been, at one time, in a state of great pain? Not the least! She remembered putting on the magnetized thimble, and then going on with her work after tea; and from that point all her remembrances stopped. It was always so with her; she never knew anything about what she did, or said, or felt, in the magnetized state, unless other people told her.

Here our questions and answers were interrupted by the noisy impatience of a little dog in the room. The animal was waiting to go home with me, and was growing very unwilling to wait longer. Earlier in the evening, this dog had accidentally produced a very curious exertion of V — ’s extraordinary perceptive powers, while in the magnetic sleep. His master (at whose house I was then staying) had come in, as one of the guests, late in the evening, when V — had been nearly an hour asleep. After a short time, he departed; and his dog, having followed him to the house, followed him again out of the room. More than half an hour afterwards, in the middle of an experiment, V — suddenly became restless, and frowned. No one being able to imagine what produced this alteration in her, she was asked to explain what was the matter, and answered — ”There’s something in the room that annoys me.” “What is it?” “A dog.” “Why, the dog went away half-an-hour ago,” cried one of my friends. A search was instituted; and, sure enough, the dog (a little terrier) was found coiled up asleep in the darkest corner of the room. He had followed his master out; but not, as we all supposed, home. He was very fond of me; had determined to go home with me; and had quietly crept back into the room — so quietly, that nobody could imagine how or when he had entered — to wait my departure. While I was looking for the dog the Count was pursuing his questions with V — . “What sort of dog is it?” “A little dog.” “Whose dog is it?” “He has not followed his master home.” “I ask you
whose dog
it is?” “The dog belongs to Mr. — ,” mentioning the name of the dog’s owner. This gentleman, as I have already said, had only come to the house after V — ’s eyes were fast closed in the magnetic sleep.

* See
Leader
, No.95.

W. W. C.

(To be continued.)

Letter 3
—
The Leader
21 February 1852

LETTER III. — TO G. H. LEWES

I AM about to shift the scene of my narrative, and introduce to you a whole host of new characters. Hitherto, the locality of our magnetic experiments has been a cottage by the sea-shore. You must now accompany me inland, through the fertile valley ground of Somersetshire, to a country parsonage. As yet, the only spectators present at the “magnetic evenings” have been three gentlemen, very silent humdrum people, merely intent on arriving at a fair estimate, from what they saw with their own eyes, of the real merits of Animal Magnetism. You must now be introduced to a room full of young ladies, anything but humdrum people, and (I may conscientiously add) anything but silent either! In my last two letters, the subject of our experiments has figured as a person accustomed to be submitted to the magnetic influence for a period of some two years. In my present letter, the subjects presented to you will be persons who had never been magnetized before in their lives.

This was the circumstance which produced our visit to the parsonage: —

An evening party was given, at which our friend, Count P — , was present. The topic of Animal Magnetism was started; and a pretty strong disbelief in the science was expressed by the company in general. One young lady, who had never been magnetized, volunteered to give the Count an opportunity of practically refuting his opponents: he took it, and threw her into the sleep. Still the disbelievers disbelieved as sturdily as ever. The room (they said) was hot; the young lady must be naturally a little excited by the amusements of the evening; it was extremely probable that she had just felt a little faint, and had so sunk back with her eyes closed. Consequently, there was no proof of magnetic influence: and, consequently, they would not believe! Under these circumstances, it was arranged by one of the company, to whom the anti-magnetic system of logic was not quite satisfactory, that the Count should prove that he could put the young lady into the magnetic sleep the next afternoon, at her own home, away from all heat and excitement, and under the eyes of her own parents, relatives, and friends. It was in pursuance of this arrangement that we were now all gathered together in the drawing-room at the parsonage house.

Circumstances could hardly have been more unfavourable to the magnetizer’s success than they were when our new experiment began. No plans, no entreaties, no paternal injunctions, could procure quiet. Imagine, first of all, that Misses A., B. and C., are inveterately bent on whispering and laughing with Misses D., E. and F. Then picture to yourself a small detachment of children, who cannot possibly he persuaded to eat their dinner quietly in the dining-room, who
will
carry the drawing-room door by storm, and
wont
[sic] stop in the drawing-room more than a moment after they have entered it. Further, fancy this said drawing-room door to have a creaking hinge, the noise of which the most artful process of opening and shutting is quite powerless to silence. And then, when this combination of noises in the room accidentally ceased, once or twice, for a moment or so at a time, imagine a set of new noises,
out
of the room, always mysteriously ready to fill up the vacancy of silence. For instance, when the children had been got out of the way, then the dogs were sure to bark in the garden, or to whine and scratch at the door. When the young ladies had relapsed into “solemn silence” — when one gentleman had gone to sleep, and another gentleman had taken to looking steadfastly out of window, then the servants were certain to knock down something heavy in the kitchen underneath. Realize in your own mind all these elements of disturbance, and you will agree, I think, with me, that circumstances were the reverse of favourable to magnetic experiments, under the roof of our kind entertainers at the parsonage.

Nevertheless, in three minutes from the time when the Count and the young lady sat down opposite each other, she was in the magnetic sleep! — fairly, palpably in the magnetic sleep, in spite of every interruption, just at the very time when the interruptions were all at their height!

At first she suffered from hysterical pantings and catchings of the breath, — there seemed to be some obstruction in her throat, and her expression was certainly a painful one. She was soon relieved, however, by the magnetizer; and then, as she breathed freely, she raised her hands in the attitude of prayer, and a look came over her face which no one, even among those who had known her longest, had ever seen on it before.

She was a remarkably pretty girl, — a thoroughly English beauty. Hair, eyes, complexion. and outline of face were all eloquent of her native land. Her natural expression was anything but a sad or a serious one, —
that
was English, too, in its unaffected happiness and good-humour.

“A rosebud set with little wilful thorns, 
And sweet as English air could make her, she.”

But now, the natural expression was all gone, and in its stead was something so calm, so solemn, so spiritual in its rapt loveliness, — something so beautiful, yet not with the beauty of earth, that a great hush stole over us all, while stood before her. It was as if the soul was, at that moment, looking out from the calm young face, clearer and nearer to our eyes than they had ever yet beheld it; — a look that silenced us, — a look not to be forgotten. Never have I seen before, on any other human face, the indescribable divinity of earthly beauty which Raphael has given to his Madonnas, — I saw it then on hers.

She was asked whether she felt quite happy, and free from all pain, and faintly answered, “Yes ! quite happy !” “Did she wish to be awakened?” “No.” She then remained for about ten minutes, still in the same reclining position, still with the same expression, and with the hands uplifted in the gesture of prayer. No further experiments could be tried with her, for, shortly after this, her mother desired that she might be awakened The process was easily accomplished, she opened her eyes, and resumed her old expression again, with the same suddenness, and the same absence of any appearance of an intermediate condition between sleeping and waking, which I mentioned in my last letter, as characteristic of V — , under similar circumstances.

As soon as she was awake, I asked whether she had any recollections of her condition while in the magnetic sleep. She answered just as V — answered on a former occasion “No recollections whatever.” She had no idea, for instance that her breathing had been painfully impeded, until we told her so.

The next two experiments that were tried on two of the other young ladies present, proved unsuccessful. In one case, the Count expressed his own conviction, beforehand, that the temperament was peculiarly unsusceptible to magnetic influence. In the other, the young lady herself declared that she was once or twice on the point of losing all consciousness when a whisper, or an accidental noise in the room, disturbed and startled her. The third attempt, after the two first had been abandoned, was made on one of the gentlemen present, who had never before been magnetized. The result proved to be of a very unexpected and a very startling nature: it was not repose which was produced in this instance, but agitation — agitation so violent as to excite the liveliest apprehensions in every one present.

At the time when the new patient submitted himself to the magnetizer, the scene was one of the most picturesque I ever remember to have witnessed. It was now evening — a still, cold, clear winter evening. Dim shadows were gathering over the room; contrasted on one side by the ruddy firelight, on the other by the last rays of the setting sun, floating through the window. The positions of the spectators, as they anxiously watched the progress of the new experiment; the strange, wild contrasts of light and shade falling on every figure; the beauty and variety of the attitudes into which the children and the young girls accidentally fell, as they sat, reclined, or stood together; the natural harmony and grace in the formation of the different groups, made the room a perfect school for painters, a treasury of beautiful compositions, waiting to enrich with new material the resources of Art. Beyond the spectators, appeared the figures of the magnetizer and the patient placed apart, just before the window, darkly and grandly relieved in their still positions by the mysterious evening light; while, without, the background to the whole scene was formed by the twining, weird shapes of leafless trees; the wave of the deep blue hills beyond; and the blood-red sun above, just glowing its last under a canopy of towering purple clouds. Rembrandt alone could have painted such a picture as the drawing-room at the parsonage-house presented at this moment.