Never was Hypnotised

Greymouth Evening Star, 11 May 1929, Page 9

Never was Hypnotised

Carpentier, Famous French Pugilist, Denies Persistent Rumour

BHE Idea is funny!” Such is the reply of Georges Carpentier, famous French boxer, to all the present-day talk of how the famous manager Descamps hypnotised him in the ring. “But I did give myself up to Descamps,” he says; and he reveals the truth about their remarkable methods in training quarters. All sorts of theories used to be advanced by the various sporting writers in their various journals to account for the success which attended me in the ring (writes Carpentier); but perhaps the most extraordinary theory of all in explanation of my good fortune was that I acted under the hypnotic influence of dear Descamps and was a sort of boxing Trilby, with my genial and good-humoured friend as the Svengali. His Piercing Eyes! 1 am proud to think that my performances in the ring could mystify people to such an extent as to make them consider, for a moment, that such a thing was possible; but at the same time I do want to enjoy what little credit may be due to me as a boxei' without, in anj' way, detracting from the invaluable services which Descamps rendered me during our long association. The American papers did not hesitate to ascribe my fighting ability to my being hypnotised, and they even went further, and described how, before a fight, during the process of training, Descamps was always at hand, and each day would come to me in our training quarters and. piercing me with his eyes, would repeat, slowly but emphatically, “Georges—you must give yourself to me. All your thoughts and worries are to

pass from you to me, and you are to think of nothing but your fight. I take from you all but your fighting spirit.”

He would then make a few passes before my eyes and so put me into some form of mesmeric trance, they declared. .

Nothing of the kind took place, although there is a certain amount of truth in the idea that Descamps relieved me of all worries and troubles. Not by any hypnotic means, however, but by the simple, unromantic process of keeping me in entire ignorance of anything likely to cause me worry and by seeing I was surrounded by everything calculated to inspire me with a belief that I could not be beaten.

There is more psychology in boxing than most people imagine. It is in one’s training quarters that the fight is really won. And it was there that Descamps gave me the greatest possible help. Such help as no other boxer has received in the course of his career.

When once a fight was arranged I did, in fact/, belong to Descamps. I gave myself up to him completely. I lived on nothing else but the fight and concentrated every effort to that end.

Every effort, I say, but not every thought, for we realised very, quickly that the surest way of getting stale was to do nothing else but training’, and to give one’s whole being up to the business of getting fit. This may sound contradictory, but it is not, for the simple reason that, while I was living for the fight, the only way I could attain that right degree of preparation was by having my mind taken off it from time to time.

The idea that any real fighting man could be hypnotised into knocking out an opponent is funny. It would require more than the usual amount of suggestion, I should imagine, to control a man so that he could get into a ring and, in a sort of trance, fight his way through fifteen or twenty rounds, as the case might be. When Training How could Descamps, or any other man, know what is passing in themind of the man who was not hypnotised and then, in that millionth part of a second, flash the counter to theman under his control. No. Ido assure my readers that 1, was not hypnotised, and when I sayI gave myself up to Descamps, I mean that I gave myself up to him once I entered training quarters. His word was law there and I never sought to question it. If anyone wanted to see me they could do so only by permission of Descamps. He took the responsibility for everything. The one thing in which Descamps encouraged me most of all was the cultivation of the fighting spirit. Without that I should have got nowhere, and, to my mind, that is where many other boxers failed in the past. You cannot have that fighting spirit if you are worried about anything, or if you lack the least confidence. I have never feared failure, but I will be easy to beat this man or that man.” But I have always told myself that by getting perfectly fit and thoroughly prepared and by hard fighting all the time I could win. I have iever feared failure, but I have never been guilty of deceiving myself that I could win without real effort on my part. I was always confident that this effort would pull me through, and I never entered the Ting with any sort of qualms.

With Billy Wells

Only the other day Bombardier Billy Wells and I were talking over this very thing in my dressing-room at the London Alhambra.. We agreed that it was impossible to get anywhere unless one had that confidence and that absolute freedom from worry. I have seen men go into the ring a bundle of nerves. I have seen them biting their lips and gazing around with the most hopeless expressions on their faces, and I have known that they were beaten men before ever the fight commenced. I remember during the war wondering whether I had lost anything in the way of a punch, as a result of insufficient training in consequence of my military duties. One day I was in Paris and went into a little place where I found Badoud —well-known in England—sparring. He invited me to put on the gloves and I agreed to do so, at the same time telling him to let me down lightly, as I was naturally out of training. ; • ,

I knew at the time it was useless to say this to Badoud, as he could no more fight lightly than fly. Sure enough, we had not long been at it before he landed a real good punch which made me grunt. I felt then that I was entitled to see what sort of a punch I had left, and I spared about for an opening, which came. I made a feint with my left and then landed with the right full on the chin. It was a quarter of an hour before he came round; but his first words were, “Bravo, Georges.” Those words were as music to my ears, for I realised that I still had my punch, although Descamps was not there to hypnotise me.