MOSCHELES… OR MEPHISTOPHELES?
In Bohemia with du Maurier – Felix Moscheles
Felix Moscheles (1833-1917) was a writer, painter and peace activist, born in London to a German Jewish family.
He was bestest chums with George du Maurier, who authored Trilby – the most famous and sensational novel of the Victorian age. Centered upon notorious hypnotist Svengali and doomed heroine Trilby, the novel continues to influence public perceptions of hypnosis and mesmerism still today (as well as me and this blog!).
But such was contemporary interest in, and hype around, du Maurier and Trilby, his friend Moscheles was moved to write this memoir of their time together as aspiring artists in Bohemia and beyond.
The book was published in 1896; Moscheles explains in an introductory note that du Maurier died just as the final proofs were completed. It thus being too late to reshape his words into a more sombre dedication to his friend’s life, it is a light and frivolous insight into their “chumming” and “tumbling” days in Antwerp, Paris and London, written with du Maurier’s input and blessing.
What is of interest to us, however, is that Moscheles was an amateur mesmerist of some talent and renown. And he inspired the Svengali character.
‘Rag’ and ‘Bobtail’, as George and Felix (respectively) affectionately nicknamed each other, met at the Antwerp Academy in 1857. Their lives, and the lives of their chums, very much mirror those of the three artists in Trilby – Moscheles was a painter and du Maurier was developing his drawing style into the cartoons he would become famous for.
Evenings would see Moscheles playing the piano (note the very Svengali cartoon by du Maurier of him playing, below left), while he, du Maurier and others would sing, compose, eat, drink, be merry: ‘tumble’.
But Moscheles and du Maurier also shared a special interest in mesmerism. Moscheles started to attend séances once in Paris, and began investigating mesmeric phenomena for himself. As Moscheles writes: “Mesmerism, or, as the fashion of to-day calls it, Hypnotism, formed so frequent a topic of conversation and speculation between du Maurier and myself, that it takes a very prominent place in my recollections.”
Or, as du Maurier summed up his friend’s mesmeric talent and renown in his cartoon: “Moscheles or Mephistopheles? Which.”
Moscheles recalls one of his typical séances, where his “duty” was to show why the phenomenon could not be ascribed to charlatanism. Those making up the séance were, therefore, carefully chosen: a doctor to confirm muscle rigidity; men of science to offer explanations; other respectable men to observe and attest.
A favourite subject was the elderly charwoman-cum-housekeeper who served Rag and Bobtail. She was sceptical but proved a perfect subject, with her susceptibility to mesmerism an early source of much fascination for du Maurier.
There’s also a fun anecdote about a séance attendee who rang Felix’s doorbell late one night with a young lad in tow (literally: the lad was being pulled by a leather strap around his waist). The séance-goer had mesmerised the lad out of curiosity, but couldn’t then get him out of it. In a panic, he’d led the lad through the dark streets of Paris to get Felix to lift the trance. The lad, however, was resistant and tried to punch them both. Eventually, but not without difficulty, Felix re-mesmerised the lad and all was put back to rights.
But the key character in Rag and Bobtail’s mesmeric larks was ‘Carry’, aka Octavie – a sure inspiration for Trilby.
Carry was the daughter of a respectable widow who’d bought a tobacco shop in Malines with the provision left by her church organist husband. Moscheles, du Maurier and chums frequented the shop and befriended Carry, with Rag and Bobtail becoming apparently altruistic chaperones for this vibrant young woman who “hero-worshipped” them.
Many of Moscheles’ mesmeric amusements were put on for Carry’s benefit; tormenting a “stupid” young boy in her shop by having him hold a key that is simultaneously red hot and a delicious morsel of cake is fondly remembered.
Moscheles sums up this period as follows:
“But mesmerism meant more than incidental amusement or even scientific experiment to us in those Antwerp and Malines days. When one stands on the threshold of a world of mysteries one cannot but long to bridge over the chasm that separates one from the gods, the fairies, or the fiends. […] We loved that never-attainable Will-o’-the-Wisp, “Truth,” for its own dear Bohemian sake”.
He says it was around this time that the germs of Trilby and Svengali formed.
Now, Svengali is, of course, a horribly antisemitic, xenophobic and classist stereotype. There’s a book I plan to reflect upon called Svengali's Web: The Alien Enchanter in Modern Culture at a later date, which tackles some of these issues, so I’ll park Svengali for now.
But I also find Trilby one of the most objectified and vacant depictions of a woman I’ve come across. Let’s then consider Carry’s fate…
This maturing friend had learned “how to use her eyes” and “it was not without concern that we noticed in her a certain restlessness and a growing tendency to discuss with the serpent questions relating to the acquisition of prohibited apples.” Rag and Bobtail try to dampen the fires they’d stirred in her, but all the while sparring as to whether she’s in love with one or both of them.
They fantasise about the enduring nature of their three-way friendship, but soon Rag and Bobtail return to London. Moscheles alludes to Carry then falling into disrepute, but later learns a young doctor came to her rescue. Carry claims in a letter three years later to be happily married in Paris, but one suspects she is not. Last Moscheles heard the young doctor has died; he doesn’t know what became of Carry as a widow – but he did name his dog after her some years later! Nice.
The final pages of the book recollect “famous Saturday evenings” at Moray Lodge once Moscheles and du Maurier were both back in London. Here, they would hang with fellow mesmeric adventurers Charles Dickens and Wilkie Collins, amongst others – the 19th Century ‘Head Hacking collective’, if you will.
Alas, Felix had to cease mesmerism: “Now I have not touched the fluid for some thirty years; I swore off because it was taking too much out of me: but I look back with pleasure on my earlier experiments, successes I may say, for I was fortunate enough to come across several exceptional subjects.”
