Somnolites

This is Fab Figmentals, the podcast that explores the realm of curious creatures, magical monsters, and beautiful beasts. I’m your host, Lindsey Morse. 

On each episode of Fab Figmentals, we dive into the folklore and history of a different legendary creature and share a story about it. 

Today’s episode has been in production for a few weeks now, and I’m really excited to share it with you.

I’ve long been fascinated by mesmerism, and in today’s show I’m going to focus in on those who are on the receiving end of this practice. I’m talking of somnolites, the fancy name for those in a state of hypnotic sleep. 

So, let’s kick things off by talking about mesmerism. What is it? And can it actually render someone helplessly entranced? 

Mesmerism, also known as animal magnetism, was first popularized by Franz Mesmer in the 18th century. He believed that all living things possess an invisible natural force, which, when utilized correctly, can produce physical effects. 

Devotees who applied themselves to the practice to animal magnetism beloved they could harness their own innate power to put someone into a trance, bring about movements in the body, and cure ailments. The healing potentials of mesmerism were thought to be vast. Well into the 19th century, specialists in the medical field devoted their careers to mesmerism. 

Throughout his lifetime, Mesmer fought for the widespread acceptance of his ideas, but despite a long and persistent fight, 

they were never embraced by the scientific community.

I think it’s interesting that the practice stuck around for so long, and I find it fascinating that so many people believed mesmerism might unlock limitless possibilities in the field of medicine. To think that we might each actually posses the power to physically affect the things and people around us is incredible. It’s like something straight out of X-Men; as if we all have some secret mutant power just waiting to emerge. 

Unsurprisingly, I think, mesmerism captured the minds of many. It also captured the imagination of one of my all-time favorite writers, Edgar Allan Poe.

Today’s story isn’t one of his most famous, but it’s a damn good one. It’s called: “The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar,” and it was published in 1845.

It’s about a mesmerist who puts a man into a hypnotic state right at the moment of his death, and it’s written in the style of a scientific account. It was published without clear indication that the story is, in fact, fiction. So, many people initially believed it was true. As a result, it’s now sometimes considered to be a hoax, but I think that’s a little unfair. I think it’s a testament to the magic of Poe’s writing and the power he has with words. 

The full, unaltered story is a little long to share on the show, so I’ve cut it down for length. The resulting pace is therefore a little quicker, but I think it still retains its sparkle. 

Please note that like most of my favorite gothic fiction, this story is a little grim and a fairly graphic. It may not be appropriate for little ears. Now, settle in, and let’s explore: “The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar” by Edgar Allan Poe. 

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Of course I shall not pretend to consider it any matter for wonder, that the extraordinary case of M. Valdemar has excited discussion. It would have been a miracle had it not—especially under the circumstances. Through the desire of all parties concerned, to keep the affair from the public, at least for the present, or until we had farther opportunities for investigation—through our endeavors to effect this—a garbled or exaggerated account made its way into society, and became the source of many unpleasant misrepresentations, and, very naturally, of a great deal of disbelief. It is now rendered necessary that I give the facts—as far as I comprehend them myself. They are, succinctly, these: My attention, for the last three years, had been repeatedly drawn to the subject of Mesmerism; and, about nine months ago it occurred to me, quite suddenly, that in the series of experiments made hitherto, there had been a very remarkable and most unaccountable omission:—no person had as yet been mesmerized in articulo mortis. It remained to be seen, first, whether, in such condition, there existed in the patient any susceptibility to the magnetic influence; secondly, whether, if any existed, it was impaired or increased by the condition; thirdly, to what extent, or for how long a period, the encroachments of Death might be arrested by the process. There were other points to be ascertained, but these most excited my curiosity—the last in especial, from the immensely important character of its consequences.

In looking around me for some subject by whose means I might test these particulars, I was brought to think of my friend, M. Ernest Valdemar. His temperament was markedly nervous, and rendered him a good subject for mesmeric experiment. On two or three occasions I had put him to sleep with little difficulty, but was disappointed in other results which his peculiar constitution had naturally led me to anticipate. His will was at no period positively, or thoroughly, under my control, and in regard to clairvoyance, I could accomplish with him nothing to be relied upon. I always attributed my failure at these points to the disordered state of his health. For some months previous to my becoming acquainted with him, his physicians had declared him in a confirmed tubercular. It was his custom, indeed, to speak calmly of his approaching dissolution, as of a matter neither to be avoided nor regretted. When the ideas to which I have alluded first occurred to me, it was of course very natural that I should think of M. Valdemar. I knew the steady philosophy of the man too well to apprehend any scruples from him; and he had no relatives in America who would be likely to interfere. I spoke to him frankly upon the subject; and, to my surprise, his interest seemed vividly excited. I say to my surprise, for, although he had always yielded his person freely to my experiments, he had never before given me any tokens of sympathy with what I did. His disease was if that character which would admit of exact calculation in respect to the epoch of its termination in death; and it was finally arranged between us that he would send for me about twenty-four hours before the period announced by his physicians as that of his decease.

It is now rather more than seven months since I received, from M. Valdemar himself, the subjoined note:

My DEAR P—,

You may as well come now. D—and F—are agreed that I cannot hold out beyond to-morrow midnight; and I think they have hit the time very nearly.

VALDEMAR

I received this note within half an hour after it was written, and in fifteen minutes more I was in the dying man’s chamber.

I was induced to proceed, first, by the urgent entreaties of M. Valdemar, and secondly, by my conviction that I had not a moment to lose, as he was evidently sinking fast.

It wanted about five minutes of eight when, taking the patient’s hand, I begged him to state, as distinctly as he could whether he (M. Valdemar) was entirely willing that I should make the experiment of mesmerizing him in his then condition. He replied feebly, yet quite audibly, “Yes, I wish to be mesmerized”—adding immediately afterwards, “I fear you have deferred it too long.”

While he spoke thus, I commenced the passes which I had already found most effectual in subduing him. He was evidently influenced with the first lateral stroke of my hand across his forehead; but although I exerted all my powers, no farther perceptible effect was induced until some minutes after ten o’clock.

By this time his pulse was imperceptible and his breathing was stertorous, and at intervals of half a minute. This condition was nearly unaltered for a quarter of an hour. At the expiration of this period, however, a natural although a very deep sigh escaped the bosom of the dying man, and the stertorous breathing ceased—that is to say, its stertorousness was no longer apparent; the intervals were undiminished. The patient’s extremities were of an icy coldness.

At five minutes before eleven I perceived unequivocal signs of the mesmeric influence. The glassy roll of the eye was changed for that expression of uneasy inward examination which is never seen except in cases of sleep-waking, and which it is quite impossible to mistake. With a few rapid lateral passes I made the lids quiver, as in incipient sleep, and with a few more I closed them altogether. I was not satisfied, however, with this, but continued the manipulations vigorously, and with the fullest exertion of the will, until I had completely stiffened the limbs of the slumberer, after placing them in a seemingly easy position. The pulse was imperceptible; the breathing was gentle (scarcely noticeable, unless through the application of a mirror to the lips); the eyes were closed naturally; and the limbs were as rigid and as cold as marble. Still, the general appearance was certainly not that of death.

I determined to hazard a few words of conversation. “M. Valdemar,” I said, “are you asleep?” He made no answer, but I perceived a tremor about the lips, and was thus induced to repeat the question, again and again. At its third repetition, his whole frame was agitated by a very slight shivering; the eyelids unclosed themselves so far as to display a white line of the ball; the lips moved sluggishly, and from between them, in a barely audible whisper, issued the words:

“Yes;—asleep now. Do not wake me!—let me die so!” I here felt the limbs and found them as rigid as ever. The right arm, as before, obeyed the direction of my hand. I questioned the sleep-waker again:

“Do you still feel pain in the breast, M. Valdemar?” The answer now was immediate, but even less audible than before: “No pain—I am dying.”

I did not think it advisable to disturb him farther just then, and nothing more was said or done until a little before sunrise. After feeling the pulse and applying a mirror to the lips, I spoke to the sleep-waker again, saying:

“M. Valdemar, do you still sleep?” As before, some minutes elapsed ere a reply was made; and during the interval the dying man seemed to be collecting his energies to speak. At my fourth repetition of the question, he said very faintly, almost inaudibly:

“Yes; still asleep—dying.” It was now the opinion, or rather the wish, of physicians, that M. Valdemar should be suffered to remain undisturbed in his present apparently tranquil condition, until death should supervene—and this, it was generally agreed, must now take place within a few minutes. I concluded, however, to speak to him once more, and merely repeated my previous question.

While I spoke, there came a marked change over the countenance of the sleep-waker. The eyes rolled themselves slowly open, the pupils disappearing upwardly; the skin generally assumed a cadaverous hue, resembling not so much parchment as white paper; and the circular hectic spots which, hitherto, had been strongly defined in the centre of each cheek, went out at once. I use this expression, because the suddenness of their departure put me in mind of nothing so much as the extinguishment of a candle by a puff of the breath. The upper lip, at the same time, writhed itself away from the teeth, which it had previously covered completely; while the lower jaw fell with an audible jerk, leaving the mouth widely extended, and disclosing in full view the swollen and blackened tongue. I presume that no member of the party then present had been unaccustomed to death-bed horrors; but so hideous beyond conception was the appearance of M. Valdemar at this moment, that there was a general shrinking back from the region of the bed.

M. Valdemar spoke—obviously in reply to the question I had propounded to him a few minutes before. I had asked him, it will be remembered, if he still slept. He now said: “Yes;—no;—I have been sleeping—and now—now—I am dead. 

M. Valdemar’s condition remained in all respects as I have last described it, with the exception that the mirror no longer afforded evidence of respiration. An attempt to draw blood from the arm failed. I should mention, too, that this limb was no farther subject to my will. I endeavored in vain to make it follow the direction of my hand. The only real indication, indeed, of the mesmeric influence, was now found in the vibratory movement of the tongue, whenever I addressed M. Valdemar a question. He seemed to be making an effort to reply, but had no longer sufficient volition.

It was evident that, so far, death (or what is usually termed death) had been arrested by the mesmeric process. It seemed clear to us all that to awaken M. Valdemar would be merely to insure his instant, or at least his speedy dissolution. 

From this period until the close of last week—an interval of nearly seven months—we continued to make daily calls at M. Valdemar’s house, accompanied, now and then, by medical and other friends. All this time the sleeper-waker remained exactly as I have last described him. The nurses’ attentions were continual. It was on Friday last that we finally resolved to make the experiment of awakening or attempting to awaken him; and it is the (perhaps) unfortunate result of this latter experiment which has given rise to so much discussion in private circles—to so much of what I cannot help thinking unwarranted popular feeling. For the purpose of relieving M. Valdemar from the mesmeric trance, I made use of the customary passes. These, for a time, were unsuccessful. The first indication of revival was afforded by a partial descent of the iris. It was observed, as especially remarkable, that this lowering of the pupil was accompanied by the profuse out-flowing of a yellowish ichor (from beneath the lids) of a pungent and highly offensive odor.

It was now suggested that I should attempt to influence the patient’s arm, as heretofore. I made the attempt and failed. One of the doctors then intimated a desire to have me put a question. I did so, as follows: “M. Valdemar, can you explain to us what are your feelings or wishes now?”

There was an instant return of the hectic circles on the cheeks; the tongue quivered, or rather rolled violently in the mouth (although the jaws and lips remained rigid as before;) and at length the same hideous voice which I have already described, broke forth: “For God’s sake!—quick!—quick!—put me to sleep—or, quick!—waken me!—quick!—I say to you that I am dead!” I was thoroughly unnerved, and for an instant remained undecided what to do. At first I made an endeavor to re-compose the patient; but, failing in this through total abeyance of the will, I retraced my steps and as earnestly struggled to awaken him. In this attempt I soon saw that I should be successful—or at least I soon fancied that my success would be complete—and I am sure that all in the room were prepared to see the patient awaken. For what really occurred, however, it is quite impossible that any human being could have been prepared.

As I rapidly made the mesmeric passes, amid ejaculations of “dead! dead!” absolutely bursting from the tongue and not from the lips of the sufferer, his whole frame at once—within the space of a single minute, or even less, shrunk—crumbled—absolutely rotted away beneath my hands. Upon the bed, before that whole company, there lay a nearly liquid mass of loathsome—of detestable putridity.

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Creepers. Oh, man, I love this story. How disturbing is it to think that someone could be held in limbo for months, not quite alive, not quite dead, and then one day brought back only to have their body immediately decay as if it had been fully dead the entire time. It reminds me of another favorite: Oscar Wilde’s A Picture of Dorian Gray. 

Anyway.

In 1784, two French Royal Commissions were formed to investigate Mesmer and his theory, to see if there was scientific merit. Interestingly, the commission agreed that the “cures” Mesmer claimed were valid; however, they stopped short of believing an invisible magnetic force was responsible. They said there was no evidence to be found that such a force existed. 

After the results were handed down, one of Mesmer’s disciples, a man named Abbé Faria continued studying the effects of mesmerism, anyway. And several years later he stumbled across something similar (and yet fundamentally different) that was being practiced in the East. Hypnosis.  

Mesmerism slowly fell out of fashion, and today it’s widely understood that the invisible magnetic force doesn’t exist. 

But hypnotism, as we now know, is very real. The key difference, of course, is that mesmerism was believed to work because of an innate force owned and harnessed by the practicer that could be exerted over the subject. Hypnosis relies on no such force. The magic, so to speak, happens entirely within the mind of the subject.

But is it not still eerie? In both cases, a subject can be put into a state of waking sleep. But whereas mesmerism relies of the harnessing of an invisible force— I like to think of something similar to the wind or a sonic boom— hypnotism relies purely on the power of suggestion. 

It’s kind of incredible, when you think about it. 

I’ve always believed that language is powerful— I only have to look at a writer like Poe to know that to be true. But I find it remarkable that all we need to unlock the gate to another’s unconscious mind are words. 

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Thank you so much for listening to this episode of Fab Figmentals.

Research, writing, and sound editing are done by me, Lindsey Morse. Our theme music was created by Graeme Ronald.

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Do you have a suggestion for a future episode? Or maybe just want to reach out and say hi? You can get in touch with me via our website, FabFigmentals.com, or on Twitter @figmentals. I’d love to hear from you.

In two weeks, we’ll be looking at Mermaids. But don’t expect to enter the world of Ariel and King Triton. The mermaids we’ll be looking at are far from the cheery, singing damsels found in Disney cartoons. 

We’ll see you next time.