Calista, Laura Rahme [best ereader for comics txt] 📗

Leave it alone. We both know Mesmer was a charlatan. There is no such thing as a magnetic fluid inhabiting either you or me, nor can it be credited for any healing effect on other beings.”

“Funny you should say that, Raymond. There is work being carried out as we speak, in France, about its validity in the power of suggestion.”

“It will all fall apart, as Mesmer’s theories eventually did.”

“Wrong. I have read Simon Mialle’s treatise, have you?”

“Never heard of it and most certainly will not bother.”

“You should. He detailed cases of magnetic healing through the application of animal magnetism for the period between 1774 and 1826. All cures. Every single of one of them. Each of the cases outlined the disease that was treated and the animal magnetic procedure that was applied, followed by the results. And these results spoke for themselves. This is hardly the work of charlatans. But Raymond, before you give way to hearsay and laugh away my ludicrous ideas with your medical colleagues, let me remind you of another case in 1829. It begs to be heard. An adherent of Mesmer, Dr Pierre Jean Chapelain, assisted surgeon Jules Cloquet in a cancerous breast operation performed on a sixty-four-year-old woman. Her name was Madame Plantin. Not an easy operation, and one which could have had tragic effects. Chapelain used the power of suggestion to mesmerise Madame Plantin who reached a state of near-sleep where she was, in all appearance, at rest, with no discernible changes in pulse or respiration, yet capable of conversing during the entire twelve minutes of the operation. Let me finish. Her wound was closed and dressed. Madame Plantin was left in this state for two days. Dr. Chapelain rose her from her mesmerised state after which she continued to feel no pain and had no recollection of what had transpired. Now, Raymond, what do you call this? If not evidence for the effectiveness of animal magnetism?”

“An accomplice, without a doubt. The entire operation was a farce.”

“Like you, there were numerous attempts to discredit Mr. Cloquet. But he asserted that everything was true despite being ridiculed in the London Medical Gazette and the Nottingham Journal.”

“An assertion of conspiracy! So what do you suggest, Aaron? Do you sincerely believe that by waving your hands, you can change a staff to a writhing snake?”

Aaron’s old-fashioned biblical name was often the subject of derision. “Spare me the mockery. The scientific basis is perfectly clear. Similar procedures have been replicated in America.”

“Scientific basis? I am astounded, Aaron.” Raymond shook his head while attempting to finish the meat on his plate.

“What you persist in ignoring is that I am far from alone. Hear this. For almost three years now, the Baron du Potet, a French mesmerist, has conducted promising work at the North London hospital. While physicians have directed their studies on applying animal magnetism to the practice of pain free surgery, du Potet has evolved it to the art of magnetic healing.”

“Magnetic healing? For goodness’ sake. I don’t wish to offend you, Aaron, but all this seems a little fanciful to me. I consider myself a man of science. If I cannot see it, it does not exist.”

“Have it your way, Raymond. Call me a madman, but know this: du Potet has successfully healed an epileptic girl. You ought to read the letter in the Lancet from a couple of years ago. Better still, I’ll lend you a copy of his Introduction to the Study of Animal Magnetism, it might even open your eyes.”

Raymond had ceased eating.

“My dear colleague,” he said, “might you not agree there is a significant leap between allaying pain and healing a patient? You seem to place enormous faith in this du Potet. My friend, return to London. Leave this place. Isolation corrupts the mind. Listen to yourself. Do you realise what you are saying?”

Aaron straightened. His recent excitement had given way to a grave expression.

“I have travelled the world, Raymond. The incredible things I have witnessed in India are contrary to what the medical sciences would have us believe. Du Potet only scratches the surface of true potential. I, for one, hold the unshakeable belief that certain individuals, more than the rest, have in them something of this magnetic quality. Without a doubt. I believe this force can heal. It can redress imbalances in others and, yes, it can lead other beings into different states of awareness.”

“Like Jesus? Forgive me, Aaron. And I say this as your friend, but I fear many of us remain dubious about these Mesmerism fancies. If you want the rumours to cease, you are going to have to prove all of this.”

A cold smile drew itself on Aaron’s face.

“That is exactly my intention,” he replied.

“Oh, really? What are you planning to do? Hire a mesmerist and conduct vivisections on willing patients? You’ll hardly find any volunteers. All the best of luck with that.”

At Raymond’s signal, Shannon brought over the wine and refilled his glass. Calista sat on the edge of her seat, her eyes riveted on the trickling red liquid. With each drop, she felt a growing sense of dread.

Aaron reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. His palm was moist.

“I’m sorry we have bored you, my darling. Mr. Rogers, here, does not believe in an extraordinary phenomenon that has fascinated me all of my life. It unsettles him, you see. Often, so-called wise men remain anchored to their prejudices, and in this, they may as well be fools.”

Calista smiled despite a wary premonition that chilled her spine. She had felt the heat of her husband’s kiss on her skin. She had known instantly that Aaron’s cool charm belied the seething rage she sensed now, coursing through him like an electric fire. She turned nervously to their guest. “And how was your dinner, Mr. Rogers? I hope you enjoyed it.”