Sunday, 31 January 1875

A wind more than terrible — to convey its intensity, I shall say that I had the carriage closed up. We have all gone mad; the interior of that carriage was the most idiotic spectacle imaginable — Marie and Olga and I in the back, Paul, Cima, and Luba in front, each with a red balloon in hand, and all of it laughing, roaring, and flicking the balloons into each other's faces. Except at me, of course — I was moderating and restraining the five frenzied ones.
Fortunately the howling of the wind and the roar of the waves covered their laughter and cries. Many people looked on smiling, as if to say: there are children who know how to enjoy themselves.
One can well imagine that after such labour of tongue and throat everyone was famished; there was a rush at the table and a chicken was devoured — but what was a chicken? Less than the seven fish and five loaves for the four thousand hungry.
After dinner, during which we talked of mesmerism, of Hume (I do not know how to spell the name), and of Cagliostro, I take the whole gang up to the first floor of the pavilion — where Cima, who prides himself on being a mesmerist, [Crossed out: begins] sets about putting Olga to sleep, while on my side I try to put Marie to sleep.
After half an hour or three-quarters I had done nothing but give Marie a headache, but Olga was asleep. I was all eyes, holding my breath.
I had heard tell of such things, I had read strange accounts — but I had never seen any. She rose, wringing her arms and sobbing. Be still, Cima told her — and she was still, after some moaning at first, but within an instant entirely. Her eyes were shut and consequently could see nothing; for added security her head was bound with a doubled napkin; then Cima ordered her by a gesture to lay her head on his shoulder, and she obeyed; then Dina whispered to Cima to make Olga kiss him, and Olga obeyed once more. He then seated her — and the poor child began to tremble in every limb, so violently that Mlle Collignon, who had entered with a smile on her lips at first, became frightened and begged him to wake her. He woke her then, very proud, gazing at her with satisfaction and pride.
I was stupefied.
But as long as the child remained in the same room as Cima she did not cease to tremble.
The Comte de J. Balsamo came back to my mind, and I absolutely insisted on being put to sleep — but before my turn came, Olga was put under again; taking her by the hands we formed a ring, and Cima and all of us began to shiver; Cima told me to listen to her mouth — the child's teeth were chattering, it was frightening; then I sang, but whatever effort she made she produced only formless sounds; then she began to weep, but in torrents; then we laughed, still holding her by the hands; and all at once she began to laugh. At last he woke her, and I pelted her with questions: she said she had heard everything, and that she wept because, the moment she fell under, she felt so sad, so very sad.
Seeing her with eyes shut, on the point of falling, wringing her arms and weeping, with such an expression of suffering on her face — one could not doubt.
But my turn came. — Oh, put me to sleep — but entirely — and then make me speak, make me see — please, M. Cima — no, do not make me speak.
— Very well, as you wish. I shall try; and besides, if you wish to know something, I shall command you and you will see without speaking.
— Very well, begin. I believe — do it — and I sat down resolutely, believing in earnest, and closed my eyes.
But after at most half an hour I felt only a heaviness in the head, warmth in my feet, and cold in my fingers.
I had hoped — mad creature that I was — to see in my sleep, like Lorenzo, to see the Duke, to see what he does, to hear what he says! I hoped, and my heart beat, and I smiled like a madwoman. After some time more, Cima declared that he could not put me under on the first attempt, and disappointed I rose — I was indeed wide awake and felt nothing extraordinary. The session ended there, and we passed into the house. Tea was being taken in Maman's room; Pelikan was there.
The rest of the evening passed in nonsense, but I could not cease thinking of what I had seen, and I shall take up mesmerism — I believe in it. Cima says he belongs to a society of mesmerists in Geneva, and I besought him to have me admitted.
I believe he is something of a Cagliostro — he promised to write to Geneva. Ah, if it were true! Ah, if it were not a joke! Ah, if I could really become a member!

Notes

Daniel Dunglas Home (1833–1886): the most celebrated spiritualist medium of the era, who performed before Napoleon III and European royalty. Marie writes "Hume," a common spelling confusion.
Count Alessandro di Cagliostro (1743–1795): Italian adventurer and occultist, immortalized in Dumas's novel Joseph Balsamo.
Reference to Alexandre Dumas's novel Joseph Balsamo (1846–48), in which Cagliostro uses mesmerism to conduct supernatural visions.
Lorenzo: the visionary hero of Alfred de Musset's Lorenzaccio (1834), who sees visions in a hypnotic-like state.