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Authors: Michèle Halberstadt
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interview that was visibly exhausting his patient.
Barth walked toward him.
“This young woman may not be blind, but she has a hard time describing a view that she has had several months to study. She had trouble distinguishing the objects we submitted to her. And sunlight makes her feel ill. I fear that without your daily efforts she would once again be engulfed by the blackness she once knew. I admit that progress has been made, but I cannot state for a fact that Mademoiselle Paradis has regained her sight.”
Mesmer had a hard time containing his anger.
“In that case I myself will present her to the Empress, who will no doubt be less loath to acknowledge that progress has been made.”
“The Empress placed her trust in me a long while ago. Mark my words, such an audience will never happen. By the way, might I ask Mademoiselle Paradis to play one of her compositions for us? I am curious to see how her newfound eyesight has affected her playing. The Empress is a huge admirer of her pianistic skills. In fact, it just crossed my mind: If, thanks to your care, Mademoiselle Paradis ceases being blind, would not her father have to give up the annuity of two hundred ducats?”
He leaned toward Maria Theresia.
“Do you really wish that I declare you cured? You should think it over.”
Beside himself, Mesmer grabbed Maria Theresia by the arm.
“Mademoiselle Paradis needs to rest after the exhausting examination you have submitted her to. I will not see you to your carriage. Understand that my first priority is her health.”
He headed up the front steps, pulling Maria Theresia hastily in his tow, to get her out of sight before she lost consciousness.
Barth shot a knowing glance at Umlauer.
They had won this round.
Chapter 19
M ARIA T HERESIA KEPT TO HER ROOM FOR SEVERAL days. Was it the glare of daylight or the fragility of her nerves? She lost some of her eyesight; plunging back into a world of shadows, she asserted that everything around her was a blur and that she could no longer distinguish objects and colors.
She started playing piano again, set on regaining her agility. She played with a blindfold so as not to be tempted to look at her fingers on the keyboard.
In truth, she was lost.
Mesmer had saved her from a life divided between the authority of her parents and the demanding routine of concerts. But nowadays her progress caused more trouble than her blindness ever had, and she no longer knew what was preferable: to be blind or to give up trying to regain her sight. In either case, she ran the risk of being sent back to her parents’ home. So she opted for this no man’s land, a semblance of sight, enough to keep up the treatment yet not enough to be declared cured. Alone, she walked about the house and garden, but she refused all attempts to work on her eyes.
She managed to have the rumor spread in Vienna that Barth’s examination had increased her melancholia and worsened her eyes. She was hoping both to hurt him and gain herself some time.
Mesmer was no dupe, but he did not try to gainsay her, even though he was furious not to be able to parade his triumph for the world to see. He had cured Mademoiselle von Paradis, and the four patients in the pavilion were recovering from their nervous disorders. But how could he persuade his colleagues that simply by placing his hands on receptive bodies he could obtain better results than the treatments they recommended? How could he persuade such self-satisfied gentlemen? Why had he ceased being respected as a doctor the minute he’d started getting concrete results?
Mademoiselle Paradis’s case awakened his old complexes about his inferior social class and his all-consuming need for social recognition. He had thought that treating her would be the crowning achievement of his career. Now he understood that it might in fact be his downfall. He could, without anyone second-guessing him, obtain satisfactory results on weaker minds or members of the lower
Barth walked toward him.
“This young woman may not be blind, but she has a hard time describing a view that she has had several months to study. She had trouble distinguishing the objects we submitted to her. And sunlight makes her feel ill. I fear that without your daily efforts she would once again be engulfed by the blackness she once knew. I admit that progress has been made, but I cannot state for a fact that Mademoiselle Paradis has regained her sight.”
Mesmer had a hard time containing his anger.
“In that case I myself will present her to the Empress, who will no doubt be less loath to acknowledge that progress has been made.”
“The Empress placed her trust in me a long while ago. Mark my words, such an audience will never happen. By the way, might I ask Mademoiselle Paradis to play one of her compositions for us? I am curious to see how her newfound eyesight has affected her playing. The Empress is a huge admirer of her pianistic skills. In fact, it just crossed my mind: If, thanks to your care, Mademoiselle Paradis ceases being blind, would not her father have to give up the annuity of two hundred ducats?”
He leaned toward Maria Theresia.
“Do you really wish that I declare you cured? You should think it over.”
Beside himself, Mesmer grabbed Maria Theresia by the arm.
“Mademoiselle Paradis needs to rest after the exhausting examination you have submitted her to. I will not see you to your carriage. Understand that my first priority is her health.”
He headed up the front steps, pulling Maria Theresia hastily in his tow, to get her out of sight before she lost consciousness.
Barth shot a knowing glance at Umlauer.
They had won this round.
Chapter 19
M ARIA T HERESIA KEPT TO HER ROOM FOR SEVERAL days. Was it the glare of daylight or the fragility of her nerves? She lost some of her eyesight; plunging back into a world of shadows, she asserted that everything around her was a blur and that she could no longer distinguish objects and colors.
She started playing piano again, set on regaining her agility. She played with a blindfold so as not to be tempted to look at her fingers on the keyboard.
In truth, she was lost.
Mesmer had saved her from a life divided between the authority of her parents and the demanding routine of concerts. But nowadays her progress caused more trouble than her blindness ever had, and she no longer knew what was preferable: to be blind or to give up trying to regain her sight. In either case, she ran the risk of being sent back to her parents’ home. So she opted for this no man’s land, a semblance of sight, enough to keep up the treatment yet not enough to be declared cured. Alone, she walked about the house and garden, but she refused all attempts to work on her eyes.
She managed to have the rumor spread in Vienna that Barth’s examination had increased her melancholia and worsened her eyes. She was hoping both to hurt him and gain herself some time.
Mesmer was no dupe, but he did not try to gainsay her, even though he was furious not to be able to parade his triumph for the world to see. He had cured Mademoiselle von Paradis, and the four patients in the pavilion were recovering from their nervous disorders. But how could he persuade his colleagues that simply by placing his hands on receptive bodies he could obtain better results than the treatments they recommended? How could he persuade such self-satisfied gentlemen? Why had he ceased being respected as a doctor the minute he’d started getting concrete results?
Mademoiselle Paradis’s case awakened his old complexes about his inferior social class and his all-consuming need for social recognition. He had thought that treating her would be the crowning achievement of his career. Now he understood that it might in fact be his downfall. He could, without anyone second-guessing him, obtain satisfactory results on weaker minds or members of the lower
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