Pianist in the Dark (6 page)

For him, physical desire was never more than the instantaneous satisfaction of a short-lived need. He now found himself for the first time truly enamored of a woman in a way that went beyond sexual attraction. He considered her his equal—impassioned, cultivated, lively, joyful. Her company was rewarding and entertaining. He treasured the time he spent with her.

The sorrow into which she had plunged was unbearable to him. He was the cause of it—he who had wanted to cure her, help her, protect her. He was responsible for her despair.

The violence of her distress triumphed over everything else: propriety, the relations he tried to maintain with his patients, the Viennese high society she came from, his marital and professional status. As if reciting his beads, he ran through his reasons for keeping her at a distance, but they inevitably caved in to the passion pulsing through him.

The punches became caresses, and the screams sighs and shouts. She let him undress her with confident abandon and welcomed him inside her as if she had been waiting her whole life for this moment, this man. Suddenly everything made sense, as if the purpose of every second of their existence was to bring them together. He knew nothing of the pleasure she discovered with him until he took her in his arms. With her he learned that the pleasure of the other was an extension of his own. For each of them it was a dazzling first time, creating between them an unalterable bond.

T
HE DAYS THAT FOLLOWED WERE THE HAPPIEST
that Maria Theresia had ever known. She felt elated and serene, taking pleasure in the present and disregarding anything that did not include him. Walking with him, seeing with him, sleeping with him, and, at night, admiring with him that illuminated horizon, the most beautiful discovery on which she had laid her eyes since she could use them: the sky dotted with stars.

Every day she made progress, getting used to the light, learning to distinguish between what was near and what was far, between what she could touch with her fingers or reach with her eyes.

Since she refused to be separated from him, he allowed her to accompany him to the pavilion. She attended his treatment sessions. She discovered the vats, the wooden tanks containing two bottles of magnetized water that were joined together by a steel rod with a moveable tip that the patients placed on the part of the body ailing them. Mesmer treated several patients simultaneously, for he was persuaded that magnetism circulated more readily in groups, with one patient holding the rod and all the patients holding hands.

Was its success grounded in science or the result of the suggestive power of its staging? Maria Theresia witnessed unforgettable scenes. Patients racked by spectacular convulsions, eyes rolled upwards, spittle drooling at the sides of the mouth, as they were ejected from their worldly shells in a spasm of extreme violence and then returned to them calm and at peace, cleansed of all woes.

She who had wanted to believe in Mesmer without trying to understand his method now learned the word “magnetism.” And although she did not understand the principle or the meaning of it, she was able to take note of its effects. Perhaps the patients were hysterical, or prone to exaggeration, but no matter: After spending hours in that vat, they managed to restore a harmony between body and soul. When Mesmer told her how he tuned the limbs of the body as if they were piano strings, his words resonated with truth for her. And once he succeeded in touching and repairing every nerve, he was able to treat the mind, the erstwhile prisoner inside a tortured body.

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.

F
OR 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.

T
HE TRAINING TO WHICH
M
ESMER 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.

T
HE FIRST PERSON TO COME TO EVALUATE
M
ARIA
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.”