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At each step of this journey through American cultural history, Louis Menand has an original point to make: he explains the real significance of William James's nervous breakdown, and of the anti-Semitism in T. S. Eliot's writing. He reveals the reasons for the remarkable commercial successes of William Shawn's New Yorker and William Paley's CBS. He uncovers the connection between Larry Flynt's Hustler and Jerry Falwell's evangelism, between the atom bomb and the Scholastic Aptitude Test. He locates the ...
At each step of this journey through American cultural history, Louis Menand has an original point to make: he explains the real significance of William James's nervous breakdown, and of the anti-Semitism in T. S. Eliot's writing. He reveals the reasons for the remarkable commercial successes of William Shawn's New Yorker and William Paley's CBS. He uncovers the connection between Larry Flynt's Hustler and Jerry Falwell's evangelism, between the atom bomb and the Scholastic Aptitude Test. He locates the importance of Richard Wright, Norman Mailer, Pauline Kael, Christopher Lasch, and Rolling Stone magazine. And he lends an ear to Al Gore in the White House as the Starr Report is finally presented to the public.
Like his critically acclaimed bestseller, The Metaphysical Club, American Studies is intellectual and cultural history at its best: game and detached, with a strong curiosity about the political underpinnings of ideas and about the reasons successful ideas insinuate themselves into the culture at large. From one of our leading thinkers and critics, known both for his "sly wit and reportorial high-jinks [and] clarity and rigor" (The Nation), these essays are incisive, surprising, and impossible to put down.
William James and the Case of the Epileptic Patient
In 1901, when he was fifty-nine, William James delivered the Gifford Lectures at the University of Edinburgh. James was an international academic celebrity. The Principles of Psychology, which appeared in 1890 and which had taken him twelve years to write, had been quickly recognized as the leading summation of developments in a field transformed by the introduction of laboratory methods and by the evolutionary theories of Charles Darwin. An abridged edition for students, Psychology: Briefer Course, popularly known as "Jimmy," appeared in 1892; by the time of the Gifford Lectures, it had sold nearly fifty thousand copies.
The Gifford lectureship was a two-year appointment. James returned to Edinburgh for the second set of lectures in l902, and that year the lectures were published as The Varieties of Religious Experience. The Varieties has probably been, over the years, James's most popular book, read even when his functionalist psychology had been superseded by Freudianism and behaviorism, and his pragmatist philosophy was in eclipse. It is composed primarily of case histories, collected from all around the world and organized by category — "Conversion," "Saintliness," "Mysticism," and so on. It looks, in other words, like a psychology textbook, and that is because it is a psychology textbook. The Varieties is not a study of religion; it is, as the subtitle states, "a study in human nature."
James regarded the investigation of religious experience as a branch of abnormal psychology. He did not think that by treating the subject in this manner he was debunking religion; he thought that by treating it in this manner he was taking religion seriously. His approach reflected the holistic empiricism of which he was possibly the greatest nineteenth-century exponent: people have religious experiences, just as people have the experience of seeing tables or feeling cold. We assume that having the experience of seeing tables has something to do with there being tables in the world, and that feeling cold has something to do with a change in the temperature. Not everyone has visions or receives mystical revelations; but some human beings do. Those experiences are as psychologically real as any other state of consciousness, and since consciousness has evolved for the purpose of helping us to cope with our environment — since consciousness is not epiphenomenal, but is an active player in life — there must be something in the universe to which the religious feeling "belongs." "God is real," as James put it, summing up what he took to be the common-sense intuition about religion, "since he produces real effects."
When he published the lectures, James put the sixth and seventh together in a chapter called "The Sick Soul." "The Sick Soul" is an examination of morbidity — pessimism, disillusionment, anhedonia, and various types of melancholy, one of which James calls "panic fear," and as an illustration of which he offers the following case:
Here is an excellent example, for permission to print which I have to thank the sufferer. The original is in French, and though the subject was evidently in a bad nervous condition at the time of which he writes, his case has otherwise the merit of extreme simplicity. I translate freely.
"Whilst in this state of philosophic pessimism and general depression of spirits about my prospects, I went one evening into a dressing-room in the twilight to procure some article that was there; when suddenly there fell upon me without any warning, just as if it came out of the darkness, a horrible fear of my own existence. Simultaneously there arose in my mind the image of an epileptic patient whom I had seen in the asylum, a black-haired youth with greenish skin, entirely idiotic, who used to sit all day on one of the benches, or rather shelves against the wall, with his knees drawn up against his chin, and the coarse gray undershirt, which was his only garment, drawn over them enclosing his entire figure. He sat there like a sort of sculptured Egyptian mummy, moving nothing but his black eyes and looking absolutely non-human. This image and my fear entered into a species of combination with each other. That shape am I, I felt, potentially. Nothing that I possess can defend me against that fate, if the hour for it should strike for me as it struck for him. There was such a horror of him, and such a perception of my own merely momentary discrepancy from him, that it was as if something hitherto solid within my breast gave way entirely, and I became a mass of quivering fear. After this the universe was changed for me altogether. I awoke morning after morning with a horrible dread at the pit of my stomach, and with a sense of the insecurity of life that I never knew before, and that I have never felt since. It was like a revelation; and although the immediate feelings passed away, the experience has made me sympathetic with the morbid feelings of others ever since. It gradually faded, but for months I was unable to go out into the dark alone.
"In general I dreaded to be left alone. I remember wondering how other people could live, how I myself had ever lived, so unconscious of that pit of insecurity beneath the surface of life. My mother in particular, a very cheerful person, seemed to me a perfect paradox in her unconsciousness of danger, which you may well believe I was very careful not to disturb by revelations of my own state of mind. I have always thought that this experience of melancholia of mine had a religious bearing."
On asking this correspondent to explain more fully what he meant by these last words, the answer he wrote was this:
"I mean that the fear was so invasive and powerful that if I had not clung to scripture-texts like "The eternal God is my refuge,' etc., 'Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy-laden,' etc., 'I am the resurrection and the life,' etc., I think I should have grown really insane."
As everyone now knows, the business about this being translated from the French was a pretense. In 1904, the Varieties was itself translated into French, and the translator, a man named Frank Abauzit, wrote to James requesting, understandably, the original text for this passage. "The document," James wrote back, ". . . is my own case — acute neurasthenic attack with phobia. I naturally disguised the provenance! So you may translate freely." Abauzit was a friend of the Swiss psychologist Théodore Flournoy, who was a friend of James's: they shared an interest in psychic phenomena — spiritualism, mediums, trances, and so on. James died in 1910; a year later, Flournoy published a little book called La Philosophie de William James, in which he quoted the passage in the Varieties about the vision of the epileptic and cited James's letter to Abauzit confessing the deception. And that is how it became known that the story is autobiographical.
Edwin Holt, who had published The Principles of Psychology, and William James, Jr., James's son, put out an English edition of Flournoy's book in 1917, but they removed the material about the vision of the epileptic patient: neither the quotation from the Varieties nor the reference to James's letter appears in it. In 1920, though, the story was quoted and identified as James's own in The Letters of William James, edited by his oldest son, Henry, and it has turned up in virtually every account of James's life ever since. It has been the cause of endless biographical mischief; for although the vision of the epileptic has an important place in the story of James's thought, it does not have an important place in the story of James's life.
This may seem counterintuitive. James called the story, in his letter to Abauzit, "my own case," after all, and there is no reason to believe that he made that up. It is the story of a kind of crisis, and biographies tend conventionally to be structured as crisis-and- recovery narratives, in which the subject undergoes a period of disillusionment or adversity, and then has a "breakthrough" or arrives at a "turning point" (or, in the case of religious figures, undergoes a conversion experience) before going on to achieve distinction. The vision of the epileptic is an obvious candidate for such a crisis in James's life, and most biographers have elected it to the office. But that is the wrong place to put it.
*End notes have been omitted
Copyright © 2002 Louis Menand
|William James and the Case of the Epileptic Patient||3|
|The Principles of Oliver Wendell Holmes||31|
|T. S. Eliot and the Jews||54|
|Richard Wright: The Hammer and the Nail||76|
|The Long Shadow of James B. Conant||91|
|The Last Emperor: William S. Paley||112|
|A Friend Writes: The Old New Yorker||125|
|Norman Mailer in His Time||146|
|Life in the Stone Age||162|
|The Popist: Pauline Kael||180|
|Christopher Lasch's Quarrel with Liberalism||198|
|Lust in Action: Jerry Falwell and Larry Flynt||221|
|Laurie Anderson's United States||239|
|The Mind of Al Gore||244|
|The Reluctant Memorialist: Maya Lin||265|