‘What we have learned, or, at least what has been confirmed to us in a demonstrative and evident manner, by examination of the processes of magnetism is, that man can act upon man at every moment and almost at will, by striking his imagination; that signs and gestures the most simple may have effects the most powerful; and that the influence which may be exerted upon the imagination, may be reduced to an art, and conducted by method.’ These truths had never before acquired so much evidence. We know, that cures may be wrought by the single influence of imagination. Ambrose Paré Boerhaave, and many other physicians, have cited striking proofs of this fact. The first of these writers procured abundant sweats for a patient, in making him believe that a perfectly inert substance given him, was a violent sudorific. It is worthy of the attention of moralists and physiologists, as well as physicians, to examine, to what point we may obtain salutary effects, by exciting the imagination. But perhaps, there would soon be cause to dread the perilous influence of this art, which can kill, as well as make alive. This excitable and vivid faculty is never more easily put in operation, that when acted upon by the presentiments of charlatanism and superstition. We possess another means of operation, which may be exercised without danger, and the power of which is, also, capable of producing prodigies. Education rendering most men feeble and timid, they are ignorant, how much an energetic will can accomplish. It is able to shield us from many maladies; and to hasten the cure of those under which we labor. In mortal epidemics, the physicians, who are alarmed at their danger, are ordinarily the first victims. Fear plunges the system into that state of debility, which predisposes it to fatal impressions, while the moral force of confidence, communicating its aid to physical energy, enables it to repel contagion. I could cite many distinguished names of men, who attributed their cure, in desperate maladies, to the courage which never forsook them, and to the efforts which they made to keep alive the vital spark, when ready to become extinct. One of them pleasantly said, ‘I should have died like the rest, had I wished it.’[18] Pecklin, Barthes and others think that extreme desire to see a beloved person once more, has sometimes a power to retard death. It is a delightful idea. I feel with what intense ardor one might desire to live another day, another hour, to see a friend or a child for the last time. The flame of love, replacing that of life, blazes up for a moment before both are quenched in the final darkness. The last prayer is accorded; and life terminates in tasting that pleasure for which it was prolonged. If this be true, the principle on which the most touching incident of romance is founded, is not a fiction.