Benjamin Franklin and Shock-Induced Amnesia

Abstract

Shock-induced amnesia received considerable attention after Cerletti popularized electroconvulsive shock therapy in the late 1930s. Yet, often overlooked is the fact that Benjamin Franklin recognized that passing electricity through the head could affect memory for the traumatic event. Franklin described his findings on himself and others in several letters from the mid-1700s, 2 of which were published in his lifetime. What he observed was confirmed in 1783 by physician Jan Ingenhousz, who was one of his correspondents. Although Ingenhousz had lost his memory for his electrical accident and was confused immediately afterward, he felt strangely elated and unusually sharp the next morning. Hence, he called for clinical trials with patients with melancholia who were not responding to more conventional therapies. After Franklin received Ingenhousz's letter, he also called for clinical trials. Neither man, however, tied the possible new cure for melancholia to the memory loss--nor did the operators that began to treat some patients with melancholia successfully with cranial shocks. Only much later would the amnesia be thought to be associated with the cure.

Full text

Benjamin Franklin and Shock-Induced Amnesia
Stanley Finger and Franklin Zaromb
Washington University in St. Louis
Shock-induced amnesia received considerable attention af-
ter Cerletti popularized electroconvulsive shock therapy in
the late 1930s. Yet, often overlooked is the fact that Ben-
jamin Franklin recognized that passing electricity through
the head could affect memory for the traumatic event.
Franklin described his findings on himself and others in
several letters from the mid-1700s, 2 of which were pub-
lished in his lifetime. What he observed was confirmed in
1783 by physician Jan Ingenhousz, who was one of his
correspondents. Although Ingenhousz had lost his memory
for his electrical accident and was confused immediately
afterward, he felt strangely elated and unusually sharp the
next morning. Hence, he called for clinical trials with
patients with melancholia who were not responding to
more conventional therapies. After Franklin received In-
genhousz’s letter, he also called for clinical trials. Neither
man, however, tied the possible new cure for melancholia
to the memory loss—nor did the operators that began to
treat some patients with melancholia successfully with cra-
nial shocks. Only much later would the amnesia be thought
to be associated with the cure.
Keywords: amnesia, memory, Benjamin Franklin, electro-
convulsive shock therapy, electricity
T
his year marks Benjamin Franklin’s (1706 –1790;
Figure 1) 300th birthday. In his honor, it seems
fitting for psychologists to recall that Franklin
headed the commission sanctioned by the king of France to
test the claims being made by Franz Anton Mesmer (1734–
1815) about animal magnetism. The “Franklin commis-
sion” found that Mesmer’s therapeutic techniques, as dem-
onstrated by his estranged assistant Charles d’Eslon
(1750 –1786), did help some patients. But it could not find
any evidence to support Mesmer’s claim of an invisible
fluid that permeates the cosmos, one that could be con-
trolled by a skilled therapist to remove blockages that cause
illnesses. What transpired in 1784 led to a better appreci-
ation of how powerful suggestion could be in a medical
setting, a fact clearly known to Franklin, who had written
about suggestion and used it therapeutically well before
this time (for more on Franklin and medicine, see Finger,
2006).
In addition to planning and participating in a series of
very clever experiments to test Mesmer’s notions and help-
ing to write the landmark report of 1784, Franklin made
other seminal contributions to psychology. In the 1750s, for
example, he tried to determine whether a new therapeutic
weapon, medical electricity, could cure palsies, sensory
losses caused by smallpox, and even hysterical epilepsy
(Evans, 1754; Finger, 2006; Franklin, 1758). Also worthy
of note, although not widely recognized, is that he played
a leading role in understanding the causes and conse-
quences of lead poisoning, including how the element
found throughout homes and in certain trades could affect
cognition and intellect (Finger, 2006).
On the pages that follow, we present yet another
Franklin contribution to psychology, psychiatry, and med-
icine in general, albeit one that has not been associated with
his name in the past. It is his discovery that strong shocks
to the head from electrical devices can cause amnesia for
what transpired—an accidental finding that would be re-
discovered and one that was considered extremely impor-
tant by clinicians using electroconvulsive shock therapy
(ECT) in the 20th century.
Franklin and Electricity
Benjamin Franklin, who had only a few years of schooling,
began to experiment with electricity in Philadelphia in the
1740s while he was still actively running his lucrative
printing business (for biographies of Franklin, see Brands,
2002; Isaacson, 2003; Van Doren, 1937). At the time, there
was growing interest in electricity (Brazier, 1984; Heil-
bron, 1979; Rowbottom & Susskind, 1984). It stemmed in
part from new machines that could reliably produce elec-
tricity, typically by rubbing globes, disks, and tubes of
glass (Hackmann, 1978). Philosophers and laypeople alike
were amazed to see how charged bodies, including human
bodies, could throw sparks and set brandy ablaze, as well as
how they might attract some objects while repelling others.
Still, little was actually known about why electricity
from the new machines acted the way it did. Furthermore,
whether it was identical to nature’s lightning except in
quantity was an open question. In addition, before Franklin
began his experiments, there seemed to be no utility to
what was being witnessed or discovered.
Archibald Spencer, an itinerant “electrician” from
Scotland who made his living giving lecture-demonstra-
tions, had drawn Franklin to the wonders of electricity in
1743. Nevertheless, Franklin did not begin to conduct his
own electrical experiments at this time. He began only after
Stanley Finger, Department of Psychology, Program of Neural Sciences,
and Philosophy–Neural Science–Psychology Program, Washington Uni-
versity in St. Louis; Franklin Zaromb, Department of Psychology, Wash-
ington University in St. Louis.
Correspondence concerning this article should be addressed to Stan-
ley Finger, Department of Psychology, Campus Box 1125, Washington
University, St. Louis, MO 63130-4899. E-mail: sfinger@wustl.edu
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Copyright 2006 by the American Psychological Association 0003-066X/06/$12.00
Vol. 61, No. 3, 240 –248 DOI: 10.1037/0003-066X.61.3.240

Peter Collinson (1694 –1768) shipped his Library Com-
pany some electrical apparatuses and reading matter from
London. Beginning in 1747 and assisted by a silversmith, a
merchant-lawyer, and an unemployed Baptist minister,
Franklin rapidly made many new discoveries (Cohen,
1956, 1990).
Figure 1
Engraving of Benjamin Franklin by George E. Perine (After a Portrait by Cochin)
Note. Reprinted with the permission of the American Philosophical Society.
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One of these discoveries was that electrical sparks are
most easily drawn to and emitted from points. This obser-
vation led to the creation of the pointed lightning rod,
which served as a visible symbol of how experimental
natural philosophy could have enormous practical conse-
quences. Another discovery was that electrical phenomena
could best be explained if one imagined a single type of
electricity (the prevailing view had been that there were
two distinct types, vitreous and resinous). The basic con-
cept was that objects differ in the quantity of electrical
fluid, with some being “plus” or “positive” and others
being “minus” or “negative,” to use Franklin’s terminol-
ogy. The idea that the attraction of opposites created an
equilibrium condition helped him to understand not just
experimental phenomena but also thunder and lightning
storms. Franklin was even able to show that lightning could
be captured and that nature’s powerful destructive force is
qualitatively the same as man-made electricity.
Franklin described his most important insights and
findings in a series of letters to Peter Collinson, which he
expected to be shown to members of the Royal Society and
even published. To his delight, the most important ones
were published in pamphlet form by Edward Cave, the
editor of Gentleman’s Magazine. Franklin’s Experiments
and Observations on Electricity, Made at Philadelphia in
America first appeared in 1751 and grew in size with
subsequent editions (Franklin, 1774; see Figure 2).
Carl Van Doren, in his lengthy biography of Franklin,
wrote that Franklin “found electricity a curiosity and left it
a science” (Van Doren, 1937, p. 171). Yet, although Frank-
lin achieved worldwide fame for his work, he had many
slips and at least two serious electrical mishaps while
conducting his groundbreaking experiments. The latter re-
sulted in his receiving powerful electrical shocks from one
or more fully charged Leyden jars (see Figure 3). Made of
glass, covered with foil, and filled with water or lead shot,
these devices could store a charge and, with the completion
of the circuit, release it on demand (Brazier, 1984; Dors-
man & Grommelin, 1957). Franklin quickly recovered his
senses and showed no lasting bodily effects of his two
major accidents. To his astonishment, however, he found
that he was unable to recall what had just happened to him.
Today it would be said that he suffered from retrograde
amnesia.
Franklin’s First Electrical Accident
Franklin’s first bout with shock-induced retrograde amne-
sia was described in a letter dated December 25, 1750. This
letter was probably intended for his brother John in Rhode
Island. In Franklin’s own words:
I have lately made an Experiment in Electricity that I desire never
to repeat. Two nights ago being about to kill a Turkey by the
Stanley
Finger
Figure 2
The Title Page of the 1774 Edition of Franklin’s
Pamphlet on Electricity
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Shock from two large Glass Jarrs containing as much electricity
as 40 common Phials, I inadvertently took the whole thro’ my
own Arms and Body, by receiving the fire from the united Top
Wires with one hand, while the other held a Chain connected to
the outsides of both Jars. The Company present . . . Say that the
flash was very great and the crack as loud as a Pistol; yet my
Senses being instantly gone, I neither Saw the one nor heard the
other; nor did I feel the Stroke on my hand, tho’ I afterward found
it raised a round swelling where the fire enter’d....
What I can remember of the matter is, that I was about to try
whether the Bottles or Jars were fully charged, by the Strength
and Length of the stream issuing to my hands as I commonly used
to do, and which I might safely eno’ have done if I had not held
the chain in the other hand; I then felt what I know not how well
to describe; an universal Blow thro’out my whole Body from head
to foot . . . I tho’t the Bottles must be discharged but Could not
conceive how, till at last I perceived the Chain in my hand, and
Recollected what I had been About to do. . . . I Did not fall, but
Suppose I should have been Knocked Down if I had Received the
Stroke in my head: the whole was Over in less than a minute.
(Labaree, 1961, pp. 82– 83)
Five weeks later, on February 4, 1751, Franklin de-
scribed the same episode in a letter to Peter Collinson in
London. He informed Collinson, “In making these Exper-
iments, I found that a Man can without great Detriment
bear a much greater Electrical Shock than I imagin’d.” He
also wrote that the “universal Blow from head to foot . . .
was follow’d by a violent quick Trembling in the Trunk,
which wore gradually off in a few seconds.” And he
reiterated that
it was some Moments before I could collect my Thoughts so as to
know what was the Matter; for I did not see the Flash tho’ my Eye
was on the Spot of the Prime Conductor from whence it struck the
Back of my Hand, nor did I hear the Crack tho’ the By-standers
say it was a loud one; nor did I particularly feel the Stroke on my
Hand, tho’ I afterward found it had rais’d a Swelling there the
bigness of half a Swan Shot or pistol Bullet. (Labaree, 1961, p.
113)
This accident, which affected Franklin’s memory, led
him to wonder what would have transpired had he taken
such a shock directly through his head. Would he be able to
survive it? In the last line of the description he sent to
Collinson, he even wrote, “What the Consequence would
be, if such a Shock were taken thro’ the Head, I know not”
(Labaree, 1961, p. 113). Nevertheless, he would soon have
an answer.
Figure 3
Four Leyden Jars
Note. After being charged with an electrical machine, connecting the wires from inside and outside of a jar would complete the circuit, resulting in a jolt of electricity.
From Figure 1 of Experiments and Observations on Electricity, Made at Philadelphia in America (5th ed.), by B. Franklin, 1774, London: F. Newberry.
Franklin
Zaromb
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Franklin’s 1755 Letter to John Lining
Franklin further described the consequences of strong elec-
trical shocks to the head in a letter to John Lining (1708 –
1760) on March 18, 1755. Lining was a physician and
natural philosopher living in Charleston, South Carolina,
and he had been tracking the weather and epidemics and
doing experiments on how they affected bodily functions
(Mendelsohn, 1960). Lining was thus particularly inter-
ested in atmospheric electricity. In fact, one part of Fran-
klin’s letter to him included Franklin’s notes from 1749, in
which he listed the then-known similarities between light-
ning and man-made electricity and then called for capturing
nature’s electricity.
Later in his letter, Franklin informed Lining that he
had conducted an interesting electrical experiment on six
men:
I laid one end of my discharging rod upon the head of the first; he
laid his hand on the head of the second; the second his hand on the
head of the third, and so to the last, who held, in his hand, the
chain that was connected to the outside of the jarrs. When they
were thus placed, I applied the other end my rod to the prime-
conductor, and they all dropt together. When they got up, they all
declared they had not felt any stroke, and wondered how they
came to fall; nor did any of them hear the crack, or see the light
of it. (Labaree, 1962, p. 525)
Franklin emphasized that he had no intention of plac-
ing the six men in harm’s way. “You suppose it a danger-
ous experiment,” he wrote, “but I had once suffered the
same myself, receiving by accident, an equal stroke
through my head, that struck me down, without hurting
me” (Labaree, 1962, p. 525). But he did not provide any
more information about this event, which would appear to
be his second major accident, given that he wrote that the
jolt was taken “through my head.”
Franklin had one more thing to tell Lining about
electrical shocks to the head. He now described a young
woman, who accidentally experienced a strong shock di-
rectly to her head:
And I had seen a young woman, that was about to be electrified
though the feet (for some indisposition) receive a greater charge
through the head, by inadvertently stooping forward to look at the
placing of her feet, till her forehead (as she was very tall) came
too near my prime-conductor. She dropt, but instantly got up
again, complaining of nothing. (Labaree, 1962, p. 525)
Hence, between 1750 and 1755, Franklin had learned
a number of things from electrical accidents that affected
his own body, an experiment on a line of men, and an
accident involving a patient. First, a strong, direct electrical
shock to the head, provided it is not too strong (which he
told Lining would “be the easiest of all deaths”; Labaree,
1962, p. 525), might cause a person to tremble, fold over,
and collapse. Second, there could be some temporary con-
fusion immediately afterward. Third, the shock could reli-
ably produce amnesia for the incident. And fourth, the jolt
would not prevent a man from returning to work or a
woman from properly attending to her family shortly after
it was endured.
Thus, as Franklin saw it, a skilled electrician could
administer electrical shocks to the head safely, shocks that
would not kill people or turn them into invalids. Neverthe-
less, he did not relate the shock-induced amnesia to mem-
ory defects known to be caused by injuries, diseases, or
aging, nor did he turn to theory to explain what might have
been happening to the brain. Of equal if not greater signif-
icance, he still saw no medical reason to administer elec-
tricity to the head as he set sail for England in 1757.
Jan Ingenhousz’s Electrical Accident
Thirty years would pass between Franklin’s letter to Lining
and his next letter describing the retrograde amnesia that
can follow a strong shock to the head. Moreover, when
Franklin returned to the phenomenon, it was in a different
context. He now had reason to believe that shocks to the
cranium could be therapeutic, particularly for patients with
melancholia.
Franklin’s Dutch physician friend, Jan Ingenhousz
(1730 –1799), was the first person to suggest this new way
of applying electricity in a therapeutic setting. Franklin had
met Ingenhousz in London in 1767, and the two men found
that they shared many common interests, including elec-
tricity and a wish to improve medicine (Conley & Brewer-
Anderson, 1997; Smit, 1980). Franklin thought so highly of
Ingenhousz that he nominated him for foreign membership
in the Royal Society of London and in his own American
Philosophical Society. He even consulted Ingenhousz
about some of his own illnesses (Finger, 2006). The royal
family in Vienna also thought very highly of Ingenhousz,
particularly for his work on smallpox inoculation, and he
had become a court physician.
During the summer of 1783, Ingenhousz wrote a letter
to Franklin, who was then in France serving as United
States minister plenipotentiary. He informed his old friend
that he had accidentally received a strong electrical shock
to his head— one that severely affected his memory and
cognitive faculties right after the accident. He now wanted
to learn more about “the circonstances and consequences of
the two electrical explosions, by which you was hit by
accident and struck to the ground” (Papers of Benjamin
Franklin, n.d., Vol. 40, Unit 209).
In his less-than-perfect English, Ingenhousz recalled:
The yarr [Leyden jar] by which I was Struck, contained about 32
pints. It was nearly fully charged when I recived the explosion
from the conductor supported by that jarr. The flash enter’d the
corner of my hat. Then, it entered my forehead and passed thro the
left hand, in which I held the chaine communicating with the
outward Coating of the yarr. I neither saw, heared nor [sensed?]
the explosion by which I was Struck down. I lost all my senses,
memory, understanding and even sound judgment.
My first sensation was a peine [pain] on the forehead. The first
object I saw was the post of a door. I combined the two ideas
together and thought I had hurt my head against the horizontal
piece of timber supported by the pos[ts?], which was impossib[le]
as the door was wide and high. After having answered unad-
equately to some questio[ns] which were asked me by the people
in the room, I determined to go home . . . yet I was more than two
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minutes considering whether, to go hom[e] I must go to the right
or the left hand.
Having found my lodgings, and consider[ing] that my memory
was become very weak, I thought it prudent to put down in
writing th[e] history of the case. I placed the paper before me, dipt
the pen in the ink, but when I applyed it to the paper, I found I had
entirely forgotten the art of writing and reading and did not know
more what to doe with the pen, than a savage, who never knew
there was such an art found out. (Papers of Benjamin Franklin,
n.d., Vol. 40, Unit 209)
Ingenhousz eventually made his way to bed, hoping
that a good night’s sleep might help. He arose the next
morning still experiencing a headache and bearing a red
mark on his forehead. Yet, he felt strangely elated and
believed that his mental capacities were now significantly
better than they had been before the accident:
My mental faculties were at that time not only returned, but I [felt]
the most lively joye in finding, as I thought at the time, my
judgment infinitely more acute. It did seem to me I saw much
clearer the difficulties of every thing, and what did formerly seem
to me difficult to comprehend, was now become of an easy
solution. I found moreover a liveliness in my whole frame, which
I never had observed before. (Papers of Benjamin Franklin, n.d.,
Vol. 40, Unit 209)
Ingenhousz felt so good that he wrote to several of the
“London mad-Doctors” (Papers of Benjamin Franklin,
n.d., Unit 209) to convince them to try administering elec-
tric shocks to the heads of some of their patients. He told
Franklin that cranial electricity might be “a remedie to
restore the mental faculties when lost” (Papers of Benjamin
Franklin, n.d., Vol. 40, Unit 209) and, on the basis of how
good he felt the next morning, viewed it as likely to help
patients with melancholia.
Prior to this time, the medical community had become
increasingly interested in melancholia, a broad term used
for disorders without fevers that were characterized by
lethargy, fatigue, diminished activity, and the like. But the
idea of shocking these patients cranially had not been
pursued by physicians. In part, this might have been be-
cause cranial shocks were thought to be too dangerous to
the brain or too psychologically traumatic for a patient to
endure. In addition, the physicians’ emphasis had been on
the fatigued body parts themselves, not on the brain, and
other stimulants (the time-honored treatment for melancho-
lia) were easier to administer.
Franklin’s Response
Franklin was unusually slow in writing back to Ingenhousz,
but he finally replied on April 29, 1785, just before return-
ing to America. He was 79 years old at the time and
suffering from stones, gout, and the frailties that come with
old age.
In response to Ingenhousz’s request for more infor-
mation on his own accidents, Franklin did two things. First,
he referred Ingenhousz to the fifth edition of his Experi-
ments and Observations on Electricity (Franklin, 1774).
This edition included (as an Appendix) his 1751 letter to
Peter Collinson, describing the “universal Blow” that he
endured in 1750.
He then described what he called his second accident.
This was the accident that he might have briefly alluded to
in his 1755 letter to John Lining, which also appeared in the
1774 edition of his pamphlet. This time, however, he
provided details:
I had a Paralytick Patient in my Chamber, whose Friends brought
him to receive some Electric Shocks. I made them join Hands so
as to receive the Shock at the same time, and I charg’d two large
Jars to give it. By the Number of those people, I was oblig’d to
quit my usual Standing, and plac’d myself inadvertently under an
Iron Hook which hung from the Ceiling down to within two
inches of my Head, and communicated by a Wire with the outside
of the Jars. I attempted to discharge them, and in fact did so; but
I did not perceive it, tho’ the charge went thro’ me, and not
through the Persons I entended it for.
I neither saw the Flash, heard the Report, nor felt the Stroke.
When my senses returned, I found myself on the Floor. I got up,
not knowing how that had happened. I then again attempted to
discharge the Jars; but one of the Company told me they were
already discharg’d, which I could not at first believe, but on Trial
found it true. They told me they had not felt it, but they saw I was
knock’d down by it, which had greatly surprised them. On rec-
ollecting myself, and examining the Situation, I found the Case
clear. A small swelling rose on the Top of my Head, which
continued sore for some Days; but I do not remember any other
Effect good or bad. (Franklin as quoted in Smyth, 1906, pp.
308 –309)
Franklin ended this part of his letter stating that he too
thought it worthwhile to conduct some trials with “mad
People.” He told Ingenhousz that he had personally made
the recommendation to a French medical “Operator.”
Whether this was in writing or in a conversation is uncer-
tain, because no written document has been found.
Perspectives and Commentary
Franklin’s letters provide vivid, firsthand descriptions of
the amnesia that can be produced by strong electrical
shocks that affect the brain. Whether comparable effects
might have been witnessed in ancient times is an interesting
question but one that cannot be easily answered. During the
first century, Scribonius Largus (c. 47) used specialized fish
(the electric ray or torpedo) to treat a variety of ailments,
and he even placed weakened fish across the brows of
sufferers of severe headaches (Kellaway, 1946; Kneeland
& Warren, 2002; Schechter, 1971). But this Roman physi-
cian and his followers did not write anything about shock-
induced amnesia, most likely because there was none, but
possibly because it would not have been viewed as partic-
ularly important.
Specialized fish attracted renewed attention during the
second half of the 18th century, when natural philosophers
began to ask if these creatures really produced electricity.
This shift in focus involved Franklin and Ingenhousz, as
well as John Hunter (1728 –1793), John Walsh (1725–
1795), and several other members of the Royal Society
(Piccolino, 2003; see Ingenhousz, 1775). In some of their
experiments, people received fairly strong shocks from the
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rays, but not to the head and again with no mention of
amnesia.
As for 18th-century practitioners with their new elec-
trical machines—a group that included John Wesley
(1703–1791) and Jean-Paul Marat (1743–1793)—their pro-
tocols called for mild shocks to the body, never to the head
(see Figure 4). A survey of the case reports in Gentleman’s
Magazine, a broad and valuable resource for tracing the
history of medical electricity during the Enlightenment,
reveals nothing from Franklin’s clinical contemporaries
about shock-induced amnesia (Locke & Finger, 2004).
Hence, Franklin might well have been the first person to
write about the shock-induced memory loss.
It is also worth noting that it was only after Franklin
and Ingenhousz made their recommendations that “mad
People” began to be treated with electricity administered
directly to the cranium (Beaudreau & Finger, in press).
John Birch (1745?–1815) in England, T. Gale (c. 1800) in
the United States, and Giovanni Aldini (1762–1834) in
Italy were among the first physicians to publish their case
reports (Birch, 1792; Gale, 1802; Aldini, 1803). None of
these practitioners mentioned retrograde amnesia, although
all three described notable therapeutic successes with pa-
tients with melancholia: Why they were successful is less
clear.
Given that a few of their patients experienced fairly
strong cranial shocks, the omission of any mention of
amnesia may be viewed as somewhat surprising. But sev-
eral factors have to be considered. First, none of the Birch,
Gale, or Aldini patients experienced currents as strong as
those that had buckled Franklin and Ingenhousz and left
them confused. This may be inferred from the absence of
any wording to indicate that their patients collapsed, lost
consciousness, or even trembled and fell down and from
the fact that the early protocols never called for such things.
In addition, even though loss of memory from various
causes had long been a subject of interest to some people,
the medical community as a whole was still much more
focused on successful outcomes than on what would have
been regarded as insignificant side effects (Levin, Peters, &
Hulkonen, 1983). Thus, even if there had been some mem-
ory problems, they might have been brushed aside.
Indeed, it was not until 1854 that Benjamin Brodie
(1817–1880) succeeded in drawing greater clinical atten-
tion to the amnesias accompanying severe head injuries.
Organizing and citing specific cases to back up his state-
ments, Brodie wrote that “a blow on the head which causes
insensibility generally affects the memory so far that when
the patient has recovered from the state of insensibility he
has no knowledge of the accident” (Brodie, 1854, pp.
55–56).
Twenty-seven years later, The`odule-Armand Ribot
(1839 –1916) divided general amnesia into four different
forms, one of which was temporary amnesia. Among the
subtypes that he placed into this category was amnesia that
extends into the past (Ribot, 1881). The term retrograde
Figure 4
A Late-18th-Century Illustration Showing How Electricity Would Normally Be Applied Peripherally, in This Case
to the Arm of a Girl
Note. From An Essay on Electricity (4th ed.) by G. Adams, 1792, London: R. Hindmarsh.
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amnesia, its temporal gradient, how it might shrink over
time, and theories to account for it began to circulate as the
19th century drew to a close (e.g., Azam, 1881; Charcot,
1892; Gowers, 1885; Sollier, 1892).
Retrograde amnesia drew much more attention with
the advent of ECT. This treatment was first introduced in
1938 for a patient with schizophrenia by two Italians, Ugo
Cerletti (1877–1963) and his assistant, Lucio Bini (1908 –
1964; Cerletti & Bini, 1938; also see Cerletti, 1954). ECT
did not stem from earlier work on medical electricity.
Rather, it had roots in Ladislau von Meduna’s (1896–1964)
mistaken belief that individuals with seizure disorders are
somehow protected from schizophrenia, and Meduna’s ear-
lier use of camphor and related agents for inducing seizures
(Meduna, 1934; see Abrams, 2002).
From its inception, the retrograde amnesia associated
with ECT was thought by many practitioners to underlie or
enhance its therapeutic utility (F. G. Alexander & Sele-
snick, 1966; L. Alexander, 1953; Isenberg & Zorumski,
2000; Kalinowsky & Hoch, 1952; Steinfeld, 1951). The
basic idea was that it disrupted troublesome thoughts that
cause or underlie mental problems. As an added benefit, it
erased unpleasant memories of the shock treatments. This
made it easier to treat patients repeatedly.
The technology for ECT has undergone marked
changes since Meduna’s day (Abrams, 2002; Kneeland &
Warren, 2002). Today, the electric current can be more
precisely controlled and directed, and patients no longer
have to experience bodily convulsions. Yet, even with the
latest technologies, treated individuals are still likely to
experience some retrograde amnesia, just as are laboratory
animals in rigorously controlled experiments (Abrams,
2002; Isenberg & Zorumski, 2000; Parkin, 1987; Squire,
1986).
Needless to say, mindsets are very different now than
they were during Franklin’s lifetime. During the Enlight-
enment, the laws of nature that drew the most attention
were those that directly affected people’s lives, for better or
for worse. This was why the new theory of points, which
gave rise to the highly visible, pointed lightning rod, gen-
erated so much attention. In contrast, shock-induced am-
nesia was never really a great concern to Franklin. Initially,
his clinical gaze was focused on survival and the realization
that even strong cranial shocks might not turn people into
invalids. Only decades later did he entertain the possibility,
first raised by Ingenhousz, that well-controlled electrical
shocks to the head might actually help suffering humanity
cognitively and emotionally.
Still, the amnesia obviously intrigued Franklin, who
was far more inquisitive and observant than most people,
and certainly open to learning new things from his acci-
dents and mistakes. Consequently, he did not just describe
the memory loss in private communications, such as the
one to his brother. Rather, he also described it in letters to
leading natural philosophers in Europe and America, ex-
pecting them to spread the word. It is also telling that
Franklin saw to it that his 1751 letter to Peter Collinson and
his 1755 letter to John Lining were published in his pam-
phlet on electricity in 1774.
With these facts in mind, it seems proper to recognize
Franklin on his 300th birthday for describing a specific
memory disorder that others before him either never expe-
rienced or failed to make public. Electrical-shock–induced
retrograde amnesia would come of age in the 20th century,
but its roots can be traced to a self-taught printer who
conducted a wide variety of electrical experiments in Phil-
adelphia in the mid-1700s and was also interested in be-
havior and medicine.
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