This newfound respect for Mesmer made her love him even more. She was now a believer. She now understood why she would get better.
She imagined herself living with him, helping him treat his patients, playing piano and singing for them. She saw in the mirrors of the pavilion the image of a radiant young woman with a hearty complexion and an unbowed figure. At night she sometimes caught a glimpse of her naked body reflected in her bedroom window, and sought in that shadowy image of her body signs of the pleasure emanating from its depths within.
Chapter 16
FOR SEVERAL WEEKS SHE HAD FEARED THE VISIT. Mesmer had protected her from it for as long as he possibly could by tempering the news of her progress with advisements that her extreme melancholy justified sparing her any additional fatigue. But it was difficult to put off any longer the moment when Joseph Anton would demand that he be able to see his daughter.
One afternoon he came to her door.
Maria Theresia was terrified. She feared that her father would discover her double secret: her liaison with Mesmer and her inability to play the piano as brilliantly as she had before—no matter that she could blame everything on her frayed nerves, her moods, her difficulty to readapt to the world of sight. As for Mesmer, he was seeing a patient in the pavilion and had asked to be told if Monsieur von Paradis wished to speak with him.
“You don’t look well. Too skinny.”
This was the first thing the father said on seeing his daughter. The slightly plump angel he had dropped off at this house a few months earlier had shed her baby fat. And her newfound gaze had transformed her smile: It was more timid, more thoughtful; as sparkling as ever but less spontaneous. The innocent young girl was now a young woman who controlled her own feelings. She had freed herself of her father.
Joseph Anton noticed only the external signs of this transformation, and he disapproved immediately. Still, he was pleased to see how naturally she took the hat that he handed her. She led him into the house without using her hands to search for possible obstacles the way she used to do. She had some difficulty with the doorknob, which Anna, at their heels, opened for them. Yet she walked from one armchair to the other without counting her steps. They sat down.
“So, are you happy here?”
Maria Theresia had shown him into the drawing room, at the other end of the hallway that led to the library and her piano. She was dressed very simply in gray and was wearing fingerless lace gloves. She struggled to serve the tea without shaking. Anna had set out large cups so that she wouldn’t spill anything. But her fluttering eyelids betrayed how nervous she was.
“I miss you, naturally, but I am happy because I can see you! And now I can make out your features. I recognize you. You’re older than before, balder ... A lot of things are coming back to me, now that I can see your face.”
She paused for an instant during which Joseph Anton, uncomfortable, pretended to blow his nose.
She waited for him to look up again, then continued.
“The blackness in which I lived is finally starting to dissipate, but outlines are still fuzzy and distances hard to grasp. Still, Herr Mesmer thinks that in six to eight months things should get back to normal.”
“You’ll have to work faster. The Empress would like to commission Doctor von Stoerck to take note of your progress and organize a recital for the Court.”
“But I need time! I spent my life blind. I have to regain certain skills before I can be expected to display them before an audience ...”
Monsieur Paradis leaned over to his daughter.
“You must know that some of the Faculty doctors have doubts as to Mesmer’s talents. They demand to see concrete results with their own eyes.”
“But I’m his most recent patient. The progress I’ve made is still very fresh. They should visit the pavilion. The patients there are better qualified to explain the evolution of their conditions.”
“They are not the Empress’s protégées.”
Maria Theresia stood up, shaking with indignation.
“It was your decision to send me here. It’s up to you, not me, to inform those bunglers, who were never able to do anything besides torture my body, of the breakthroughs in this treatment and the progress I’ve made!”
She tried to move closer to her father but didn’t see the cane he had placed between his legs. She tripped over it and fell, banging her head against the corner of the table. Hearing the noise, Anna sent for Doctor Mesmer.
When he came into the room, Maria Theresia was lying with her head on Anna’s knees, blood dripping from her right temple.
Shaken, Monsieur Paradis rushed toward Mesmer.
“My daughter is in no state to stay by herself!”
Mesmer, very calm, greeted him respectfully.
“I didn’t want to interfere in her reunion with her father.”
He offered him a seat, then sat down himself.
“What do you think of Maria Theresia’s progress?”
“I find her clumsy and listless.”
“But you must have noticed that her eyes are open, that they are not fluttering, and that she is recovering her vision.”
“I am not a doctor. Only an official report by medical professionals will allow me to judge her state.”
He took his hat and gloves.
“I am aware, Herr Mesmer, of your efforts to treat my daughter. But understand that a more ... objective opinion would put me entirely at ease. “
Mesmer concurred.
“I am at the disposal of my colleagues.”
Monsieur Paradis gave him his hand.
“Very well. Many of them will agree to your invitation. I am pleased to be able to extend it to them.”
He started walking to the door and indicated to Mesmer that he need not follow.
“I’ll see myself out.”
He looked in his daughter’s direction.
“Take care of her. And tell her that my wife sends all the love a mother feels for a daughter.”
Mesmer gestured to Anna that she see him to the door.
His heavy footsteps made the floorboards squeak and the spaniel bark.
He was gone.
Immediately, no longer able to control herself, Maria Theresia burst into tears in Mesmer’s arms.
“I hate them all! You can’t let them examine me. I won’t let them touch me!”
Mesmer stroked her hair sadly.
“I promise they won’t do a thing to you. But you cannot avoid answering their questions. We’ll prepare for them. You’ll pass their tests with flying colors!”
She held on to him.
“How will I play the piano?”
Mesmer looked at her tenderly.
“It is just a question of time.”
“But the Empress seems very eager to hear me play. And the Empress is not to be kept waiting.”
Mesmer held her against him.
“We’ll invent a contagious disease for you. No one will dare come see you ... Except for me.”
His burst of laughter managed to reassure her. But he was worried. Joseph Anton was ill-disposed toward him. Mesmer detected a certain jealousy that would undermine the sympathy Paradis had shown him until now. He feared that the father’s feelings might make him turn a blind eye to reason. From now on, Mesmer’s career would depend on the performance of his famous patient.
Chapter 17
THE TRAINING TO WHICH MESMER SUBJECTED HER WAS equal to that of a professional athlete. He watched over the quality of her sleep and regulated the rest for her eyes. He prevented her from playing the piano so that she would not be overtaken by melancholy. He selected various objects, the names of which she knew and which she could easily identify, to place in the large drawing room where he planned to invite his colleagues. He had her memorize the names of certain colors and match them to corresponding words. He made sure that the same colors figured significantly in the room, in the hue of a curtain, a book, a bouquet of flowers, or a brooch pinned to her dress. He
also made sure to position the curtains so the drawing room would not be too bright, for daylight sometimes gave her headaches. He walked with her in the garden to make her complexion hearty. He was in a state of constant tension as he awaited, day after day, his colleagues’ arrival.
These preparations justified the time he devoted to Mademoiselle Paradis. Madame Mesmer had decided to spend the winter with relatives in London, so he and his patient no longer had to hide from anyone except the staff—though Anna was nobody’s fool.
Maria Theresia was less anxious. Mesmer’s daily presence was magical, stimulating. Perfectly self-assured for the first time ever, she felt only contempt for her future visitors. She was ready to receive them and to submit to their examinations and interrogations.
Her only fear was no longer being able to play the piano. The dread was such that for the time being she preferred not to go near a keyboard. “Afterwards,” she said. “We’ll see afterwards.” This “afterwards” comprised everything that she preferred not to think about: the piano, her parents, her absolute refusal to live with them again, her terror of no longer being able to live with Mesmer. Afterwards was the future, which she did not trust at all. The present fulfilled her. For the first time in her life, she had found her place in the world.
Chapter 18
THE FIRST PERSON TO COME TO EVALUATE MARIA Theresia’s progress was a Court doctor, Herman de Ost. Mesmer, who considered Ost a friend, was enormously relieved. They had an amicable relationship. Professor de Ost had always encouraged Mesmer to continue his research for a new kind of medicine.
Ost spent two hours with Maria Theresia. He was charmed by her enthusiasm and admired her ability to distinguish between objects. He left convinced of her progress.
“Although I cannot say that her vision is excellent, I am certain that she is no longer blind and recommend wholeheartedly that she continue being treated by Professor Mesmer.”
Such was the wording of his report, the optimism of which was not well received by Professor Barth, the famous oculist specializing in cataract operations. He had asserted in the past to the Empress that her protégée was incurable and did not wish to be proved wrong. He decided to judge for himself the legitimacy of these claims.
Gustav Barth, accompanied by a colleague, arrived at Mesmer’s home late one morning. He greeted the master of the house rather coldly and refused to meet with the young woman in the drawing room into which he had been shown.
“Ost examined her inside. I wish to do so in broad daylight.”
Maria Theresia was thus asked to sit on a stone bench in the sun.
She immediately began blinking, of which Barth made much ado.
“None of my cataract patients has ever had a problem with the noonday sun!”
Mesmer objected that cataract patients were not blind and that their optical nerves never suffered any damage. Their vision was impaired for a few months, not for years, as was the case with Maria Theresia.
Barth commanded him to leave them alone.
“Who knows the power of your magnetism? I wouldn’t want to take the risk of letting it interfere with our examination!”
Mesmer had no other choice but to obey. He went back into the house, expecting the worst.
He was furious, powerless to protect her from this inauspicious visit. Maria Theresia was not used to being assailed by a slew of questions from malevolent strangers. She was sitting in the sun; she had not had lunch. She was alone, and the panic she was feeling would make her answers incoherent.
But Mesmer underestimated his mistress’s determination to meet the challenge. It was Barth who had confined her head to a cataplasm for months on end. She intended to make him regret his judgments.
“What do you see at the other end of the garden, on your left?”
“A long, pale blue ribbon that is in fact a river. The Danube.”
“What is the sky like today?”
“Deep blue, as it often is in Vienna during the winter. It is called a dry cold.”
“What word do you use to describe that thing reaching up to the sky?”
“A tree. A holm oak, to be exact. Down the path, by the lake, are some rosebushes.”
“What color is your dress?”
“Sea green, like my eyes. My favorite.”
“And the ring I’m wearing?”
“A ruby, I think. Bloodred.”
“What am I holding?”
“A white handkerchief.”
“Yes, but apparently you do not see the yellow border around it.”
“I recognize the object.”
“Yes, but your description is imprecise.”
Maria Theresia started to feel the onslaught of fatigue pressing against her temples.
“What do you see in the palm of my hand?”
“I see nothing. The object in your hands is reflecting sunlight onto me. It is very unpleasant.”
She was forced to use her hand to protect her eyes from the reverberation that sent needles into her skull and made her vision blur.
“It’s a mirror! Every woman knows a mirror!”
“My eyesight is too recent for me to have acquired a taste for coquettishness.”
She was hot. Her head was spinning. She felt nauseous.
“What is Professor Umlauer holding in his hand?”
Everything around her was blurred.
“A stick?”
He let out a smug laugh.
“A cane, you mean. What color is it?”
“Dark, I think.”
“Black! Not a very difficult color to recognize!”
“I know. I’ve lived in blackness since I was a child ...”
“And what is this?”
He held out a round, thick object. She could not even make out its color.
“A candle?”
“Come now! Think! Do doctors walk around with candles in their pockets? It’s a cigar, like the ones Mesmer loves to smoke!”
“He never smokes in front of me for fear of irritating my eyes.”
She closed her eyes, tilted her head backwards, and started when suddenly he took her hand and placed it on his coat collar.
“What do you feel beneath your fingers?”
“You’re hurting me. Feels like dog hair!”
Barth stood up, revolted.
“It’s ermine!”
Mesmer, who had been watching from a window, stormed into the garden to put an end to an 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 he
aded 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
MARIA THERESIA 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?
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