“The Gordian knot of it you do unlooseFamiliar as your garter.”
“The Gordian knot of it you do unlooseFamiliar as your garter.”
“The Gordian knot of it you do unlooseFamiliar as your garter.”
“The Gordian knot of it you do unloose
Familiar as your garter.”
Ev.Then, I pray you, let me counsel you not to court such visits, dear Castaly. There is some peril in the touch both of Mab and Mara; for although rare and transient cases of night-mare excite no alarm, yet its repetition, in a severe form, is not to be slighted. It sometimes has been the forerunner ofepilepsy; its immediate cause being obstruction to the course of the blood by which the brain especially is surcharged, and the action of the lungs and heart impeded, as we prove by the extreme labour of breathing at the time we awake.
I believe that there is usually a fulness of blood, also, in the vessels of the spinal marrow; as, although nightmare may occur in thesitting, it is far more frequent in therecumbentposition. Thus the marrow is oppressed, and there is then no force transmitted by the nerves to put the muscles into action.
Distention of the stomach should be prevented, as thediaphragmis thus pushed up against the lungs, and the gas is accumulated in the cavity. All these conditions often occur in our waking moods, butthenour judgment tells us how to relieve them speedily; whereas,in sleep, the load accumulates. All indigestible substances, therefore, should be avoided, as nuts, cucumbers, shell-fish, &c.
Early and light suppers we advise to those whom Madame Mara so unmercifully overlies. A mattress should be our couch, and we should endeavour to compose ourselveson one side, having, previous to our rest, takengentle exercise.
SOMNILOQUENCE.—SOMNAMBULISM.
“It is a sleepy language; and thouspeak’stOut of thy sleep.”Tempest.
“It is a sleepy language; and thouspeak’stOut of thy sleep.”Tempest.
“It is a sleepy language; and thouspeak’stOut of thy sleep.”Tempest.
“It is a sleepy language; and thouspeak’stOut of thy sleep.”Tempest.
“It is a sleepy language; and thouspeak’st
Out of thy sleep.”
Tempest.
“Doct.You see, her eyes are open.Gent.Ay, but theirsenseis shut.”“Doct.A great perturbation in nature. To receive at once the benefit of sleep, and do the effect of watching.”Macbeth.
“Doct.You see, her eyes are open.Gent.Ay, but theirsenseis shut.”“Doct.A great perturbation in nature. To receive at once the benefit of sleep, and do the effect of watching.”Macbeth.
“Doct.You see, her eyes are open.Gent.Ay, but theirsenseis shut.”
“Doct.You see, her eyes are open.
Gent.Ay, but theirsenseis shut.”
“Doct.A great perturbation in nature. To receive at once the benefit of sleep, and do the effect of watching.”Macbeth.
“Doct.A great perturbation in nature. To receive at once the benefit of sleep, and do the effect of watching.”Macbeth.
“Doct.A great perturbation in nature. To receive at once the benefit of sleep, and do the effect of watching.”
Macbeth.
Ev.In the common dream, ideas float through themind, but the body is passive. When the power ofexpressingthese ideas byspeechis added, it issomniloquence. When there is theconscious, yetpowerless, will to move, it isincubus. When theunconsciouspower ofmovingin accordance with the ideas or wishes of the dream exists, it issomnambulism.
The common dreams of sleep are not unfolded to us until the waking recollections of the dreamer relate them; but the matter of a dream may be half developed during its existence, by the curious propensity to unconscious talking and walking in the sleep.
Sleep-talking is the slightest of these phenomena, and, indeed, closely resembles the speakingreveriesof some absent people, and the raving of a maniac. The sleep is, at this time, little deeper than a reverie.
The voice of the somniloquist is usuallynatural, but as again, in the cases of mania and of delirious excitement, a common voice may become sweetly melodious, and there will be an imparted fluency allied to the inspiration of the improvisatore.
Indeed, in some young ladies, subject tohysteria, I have known, at certain periods as it were, a new accomplishment—a style of singing which was far beyond their power in waking moments. Dr. Dewar relates a case of a girl who, when awake, discovered no knowledge of astronomy or the sciences in any way; but when she wasasleepshe would define the rotations of the seasons, using expressions the most apt to the subject, such as “the globe is now set agee.” It is probable that this was the memory in slumber of some geographical lesson which she had heard, but did not remember while hersenseswere active, that is, in her waking moments. And an American lady, during a fever, commenced a course of nocturnal prating, composing most eloquent sermons, chiefly made up, however, ofrememberedtexts of Scripture.
I am informed, too, that a lady of Edinburgh, during her somnolent attacks, recited somewhat lengthy poems; and it was curious to notice that each line commenced with the final letter of the preceding.
These sleep-talkings are sometimes the mere lispings of an idiot; although Astrophel, perchance, may contend that the following, written down from the lips of a servant-maid, is a proof of special inspiration, converting a rustic girl into an improvisatrice.
“You may go home and wash your hose,And wipe the dew-drops from your nose,And mock no maiden here.For you tread down grass, and need not;Wear your shoes, and speed not,And clout leather’s very dear;But I need not care, for my sweetheartIs a cobbler.”
“You may go home and wash your hose,And wipe the dew-drops from your nose,And mock no maiden here.For you tread down grass, and need not;Wear your shoes, and speed not,And clout leather’s very dear;But I need not care, for my sweetheartIs a cobbler.”
“You may go home and wash your hose,And wipe the dew-drops from your nose,And mock no maiden here.For you tread down grass, and need not;Wear your shoes, and speed not,And clout leather’s very dear;But I need not care, for my sweetheartIs a cobbler.”
“You may go home and wash your hose,
And wipe the dew-drops from your nose,
And mock no maiden here.
For you tread down grass, and need not;
Wear your shoes, and speed not,
And clout leather’s very dear;
But I need not care, for my sweetheart
Is a cobbler.”
I have heard this trash cited as a proof of facility of composition in slumber. You do not believe it such; like other specimens, it was a ruse of a wanton girl to excite admiration. In the magnetic somnambulism of Elizabeth Okey, that cunning little wench, who was theprima buffaof the magnetic farces enacted at the North London Hospital, would often skip about and sing snatches of equal elegance:
“I went into a tailor’s shopTo buy a suit of clothes;But where the money came from,G—— Almighty knows.”
“I went into a tailor’s shopTo buy a suit of clothes;But where the money came from,G—— Almighty knows.”
“I went into a tailor’s shopTo buy a suit of clothes;But where the money came from,G—— Almighty knows.”
“I went into a tailor’s shop
To buy a suit of clothes;
But where the money came from,
G—— Almighty knows.”
These are indeed the very burlesque of somniloquence. And yet Okeywasan invalid, and presumed on the credulity of those who ministered to her.
True somniloquence is often preceded by a cataleptic state; and in girls like this, the senses are often so dull, that the firing of a pistol close to the ear does not rouse them, until the poetic fit is over.
Cast.Were sleep-talking more common, it would indeed be a very dangerous propensity. If the confessor were to prate in his sleep of the peccadilloes of the fair penitents that kneel at his confessional; if the minister on his couch were to divulge his state secrets or his fine political schemes; where would be the tranquillity of domestic or national society? Yet the lips of the love-sick maiden have not seldom whispered in sleep her bosom’s secret; and sometimes the unconscious tongue has awfully betrayed even the blood-stain on the hand.
Thus did the ill-mated Parisina of Byron:
“Fever’d in her sleep she seems,And red her cheek with troubled dreams;And mutters she, in her unrest,A name she dare not breathe by day.”
“Fever’d in her sleep she seems,And red her cheek with troubled dreams;And mutters she, in her unrest,A name she dare not breathe by day.”
“Fever’d in her sleep she seems,And red her cheek with troubled dreams;And mutters she, in her unrest,A name she dare not breathe by day.”
“Fever’d in her sleep she seems,
And red her cheek with troubled dreams;
And mutters she, in her unrest,
A name she dare not breathe by day.”
The fate of Eugene Aram, I believe, may be imputed to such an unfortunate propensity; and in Lady Macbeth’s “Out, damned spot!” was confessed her participation in the murder of Duncan and the grooms.
Somewhat like this, too, was the half-sleeping exclamation of Jarvis Matcham, after he had committed the murder of the drummer boy. Starting from his bed, when roused by the waiter, his first words were: “My God! I did not kill him.”
Ev.A dream will sometimes half wake even a child to a state of terror, although children are with difficulty completely roused. I have known instances in which children would sit up in bed, with their eyes open, sobbing, and talking, and staring, in a sort of trance; nay, they will sometimes start from bed, but still asleep, and, after a time becoming calm, they have again composed themselves to slumber.
I have known sleep-talkers, who have not remembered one iota of their wanderings when awake; and even the ecstatic somnambulist, who pretends to prophecy wisdom, recollects nothing when the ecstacy is over. It is clear also, that the mindvariesin sleep and waking, in regard to its memory; for it has been proved that persons who often talk in their sleep, have renewed the exact points of a subject which terminated their last sleep-talking, although, in the waking interval, it was to them oblivion.
Somnambulism is the most perfect paradox among the phenomena of sleep, as it exhibits actions without a consciousness of them; indeed, so complete a suspension of sensibility, that contact, nay, intense inflictions, do not produce that mental consciousness which is calculated to excite alarm, or even attention.
There is a somewhat remote analogy to this, in the want of balance between the judgment and volition of ambitious minds. In the campaign of Russia, Napoleon’s march was a sort of somnambulism, for he must have been madly excited to action against his better judgment. In this he forms a curious contrast with his royal predecessor; for in Louis XVI. we observe a mind that mightconceivegreat things, but which volition hesitated to accomplish.
The points of themysteryof somnambulism were never more forcibly illustrated, to my own mind, than in the following cases:
In 1833, a man was brought before Alderman Thorp, who had a parcelcut from his arm, although he had strapped it tightly on to prevent this, as he was often falling asleep, even during his walk. Yet, even then, he usually took the parcels to their proper directions.
The crew of a revenue boat on the coast of Ireland, about two o’clock in the morning, picked up a man swimming in the water. He had, it appeared, left his house about twelve; and walked two miles over a most dangerous path, and had swum about one mile. After he was taken into the boat, he could not be persuaded that he was not still in his warm bed at home.
In 1834, Marie Pau was admitted into the hospital at Bordeaux, her left hand and arm covered with deep and bleeding gashes, its tendons projecting and the bones broken. She had, in her sleep, gone into a loft to cut wood with a hedging bill. Thinking she was cutting the wood, she had hacked her fore-arm and hand, until she fainted away, and fell bathed in her blood.She had felt no pain, but merely had a sensation as if the parts were pricked with pins.
Some time ago, (I believe in the year 1832,) a journal thus records a case analogous in its nature, although less unhappy in its effects:
“Some fishermen at Le Conquest, near Brest, were surprised at finding, at two o’clock in the morning, a boy about twelve years old, up to his waist in the sea, fishing for flounders, of which he drew up five or six. Their surprise however was increased to wonder, when, on approaching him, they found that he wasfast asleep. He was taken home and put to bed, but was immediately afterwards attacked with a raging fever.”
Ida.These walkers were oflow degree; I presume philosophy is not altogether exempt from the fault.
Ev.Oh no: Galen was a somnambulist; and Franklin assures us, that in a warm bath at Southampton, he floated on his back nearly an hourin his sleep.
Now that there is an apathy of the senses during somnambulism is clear, for the eyelids are unclosed, and if a candle be held to the eye of the somnambulist, theactionsof theirisare seen, but there is seldom aversion of the head to avoid the glare. Was Mrs. Siddons aware of this, when shesmeltto her bloody hand, butdid not look upon it? In sleep-walking, indeed, there is alwaysoneat least of the five senses asleep. The actions of somnambulists often appear almost automatic without a reason for them; somewhat resembling instinct, as the beaver will still build his dome for shelter, even under a roof; or as monomaniacs will do a work inthree or four different places, forgetful of their previous labour. It is evident, too, that there is a dulness of reflection when the progress is impeded. The somnambulist will try tomove on in a straight line, overturning things in his course: thus Mathews, inSomno, overturned the tables, but had not the judgment togo roundthem. Under very great obstruction to their progress, the somnambulists will sometimes burst into tears.
Gall relates the case of a miller, who every night got up and worked in his mill,asleep; and Martinet, of a saddler, who also worked nightly in his sleep; and Dr. Pritchard, of one who had been subject to epileptic fits, thus: “They ceased entirely until the nineteenth year of his age, when he became a somnambulist, working during the night at his trade as a saddler, getting out on the roof of the house, going out to walk, and occupying himself in a thousand various ways. Soon after this the fits of epilepsy reappeared, occurring every five or six days, increasing in duration, and commencing from that time only with a sensation of heat, which from theepigastriumrapidly extended to the head, and produced complete insensibility. He was, at various times, relieved by bleeding; and, in the twenty-fourth year of his age, being then a soldier, he escaped three months without a return of his epilepsy. In the following year, he was astonished to find himself one night on the roof of the house, wet with rain; the impression which he thence conceived, produced, some time afterwards, an attack of epilepsy, followed by contraction of his fingers and toes.”
In many cases, however, there is some predeterminate motive for the walk, which excites the memory in the sleep. The somnambulist has beenthinking deeply, ere he retires to rest, and the walk occurs early in the night; so that we might believe a mood of musing had reallyprevented sleep, and itself been the cause of the phenomena.
Thus may be explained the miracle recorded by Fulgosius. Marcus, the freedman of Pliny, dreamed that a barber, sitting on his bed, had shaved him, and awoke well trimmed;—Marcus hadunconsciously shaved himself.
And also other cases related by Dr. Pritchard, of which I will offer you a fragment.
“——He is just recovering from a singular state of reverie, in which he has passed twenty-four hours. It began in the evening, with arigor, which continued more or less the whole night. From that time he remained constantly in motion, walking up and down the room or about the house. He kept his eyes open, but was unconscious of external impressions; sometimes he muttered to himself, and by his gestures and the motions of his hands it appeared that he fancied himself to be working in his usual occupation. In this state he remained all the ensuing night and a part of the following day. During that time, he never ate or drank any thing in a natural manner; he sometimes caught hold of a piece of bread, and, having bitten it hastily, threw it down, and drank in the same way, immediately continuing his work. If he was spoken to, he was some time without taking any notice, and then would reply hastily, as a person does who is disturbed by a question when in a reverie.”
Our study of these curiosities of mind teaches us how intimately combined in their essence are all the species of illusion.
Somnambulism is a very common feature in epileptic idiots. In confirmed insanity also, we observe in an intense degree that fearless daring and almost preternatural power which characterise somnambulism. A Highland woman, in a state ofpuerperal mania, which was increased by a terrific dream, escaped to the gorges of the mountain, and herded with the deer. She became so fleet of foot that it was impossible to overtake her. One day, an awful tempest drove her and her “velvet companions” to the valleys, when she was secured. Providence, which “tempers the wind to the shorn lamb,” had covered her body with hair.
The dreamer walks and talks with imaginary people,—spectral illusion. The following is a perfect illustration of this night-fantasy. It is a story told to Sir Walter Scott by a Lisbon trader: —
“Somnambulism and other nocturnal deceptions lend their aid to the formation of such phantasmata as are formed in the middle state betwixt sleeping and waking. A most respectable person, whose active life had been spent as master and part-owner of a large merchant vessel in the Lisbon trade, gave an account of such an instance, which came under his observation. He was lying in the Tagus, when he was put to great anxiety and alarm by the following incident and its consequences:—One of his crew was murdered by a Portuguese assassin, and a report arose that the ghost of the slain man haunted the vessel. Sailors are generally superstitious, and those of my friend’s vessel became unwilling to remain on board the ship; and it was probable they might desert, rather than return to England with the ghost for a passenger. To prevent so great a calamity, the captain determined to examine the story to the bottom. He soon found that, though all pretended to have seen lights and heard noises, and so forth, the weight of the evidence lay upon the statement of one of his own mates, an Irishman and a catholic, which might increase his tendency to superstition; but in other respects a veracious, honest, and sensible person, whom Captain S. had no reason to suspect would wilfully deceive him. He affirmed to Captain S., with the deepest obtestations, that the spectre of the murdered man appeared to him almost nightly, took him from his place in the vessel, and, according to his own expression, worried his life out. He made these communications with a degree of horror, which intimated the reality of his distress and apprehensions. The captain, without any argument at the time, privately resolved to watch the motions of the ghost-seer in the night, whether alone, or with a witness, I have forgotten. As the ship-bell struck twelve, the sleeper started up with a ghastly and disturbed countenance, and lighting a candle proceeded to the galley, or cock-room, of the vessel. He sat down with his eyes open, staring before him, as on some terrible object which he beheld with horror, yet from which he could not withhold his eyes. After a short space he arose, took up a tin can or decanter, filled it with water, muttering to himself all the while, mixed salt in the water, and sprinkled it about the galley. Finally, he sighed deeply, like one relieved from a heavy burden, and, returning to his hammock, slept soundly. In the next morning, the haunted man told the usual precise story of his apparition, with the additional circumstances that the ghost had led him to the galley; but that he had fortunately, he knew not how, obtained possession of some holy water, and succeeded in getting rid of his unwelcome visitor. The visionary was then informed of the real transactions of the night, with so many particulars as to satisfy him he had been the dupe of his imagination. He acquiesced in his commander’s reasoning, and the dream, as often happens in these cases, returned no more after its imposture had been detected.”
The case I am about to relate occurred within my own experience.
A butcher’s boy, about sixteen years old, apparently in perfect health, after dosing a few minutes in his chair, suddenly started up, and began to employ himself about his usual avocations. He had saddled and mounted his horse, and it was with the greatest difficulty that those around him could remove him from the saddle and carry him within doors. While he was held in the chair by force, he continued violently the actions of kicking, whipping, and spurring. His observations regarding orders from his master’s customers, the payment at the turnpike-gate, &c. were seemingly rational. The eyes when opened were perfectly sensible to light. It appears that flagellation even had no effect in restoring the patient to a proper sense of his condition. The pulse in this case was 130, full and hard; on the abstraction of thirty ounces of blood it sunk to 80, anddiaphoresisensued. After labouring under this phrenzy for the space of an hour, he became sensible; was astonished at what he was told had happened, and stated that he recollected nothing subsequent to his having fetched some water and moved from one chair to another, which indeed hehaddone immediately before his delirium came on.
Cast.In the monastery of ——, this story was told to a party of Alpine travellers, to beguile our winter’s evening.
A melancholic nobleman of Italy, Signor Augustin, walked usually at the waning of the moon. The walk was always preceded by his lying on his back, with eyes fixed and open. At this time the beatings of his heart were scarcely perceptible. During this state, he noticed none of his companions around him; but if any noise was made by them, his steps were hurried and agitated, and if the noise was increased, a sort of maniacal state was induced. In his sleep he would saddle and mount his horse, he would listen at a key-hole if he heard noises in another room, and, if he entered his billiard-room, he would seem to be playing with the cue. On returning to his bed, he usually slept for ten hours after his walk. Tickling would always rouse him.
In a Gazette of Augsburg, I have read this sad story: “Dresden was the theatre of a melancholy spectacle on the 20th ult. As early as seven in the morning a female was seen walking on the roof of one of the loftiest houses in the city, apparently occupied in preparing some ornaments as a Christmas present. The house stood as it were alone, being much higher than those adjoining it, and to draw her from her perilous situation was impossible. Thousands of spectators had assembled in the streets. It was discovered to be a handsome girl, nineteen years of age, the daughter of a master baker, possessing a small independence bequeathed to her by her mother. She continued her terrific promenade for hours, at times sitting on the parapet and dressing her hair. The police came to the spot, and various means of preservation were resorted to. In a few minutes the street was thickly strewn with straw, and beds were called for from the house, but the heartless father, influenced by the girl’s stepmother, refused them. Nets were suspended from the balcony of the first floor, and the neighbours fastened sheets to their windows. All this time the poor girl was walking in perfect unconsciousness, sometimes gazing toward the moon, and at others singing or talking to herself. Some persons succeeded in getting on the roof, but dared not approach her for fear of the consequences if they awoke her. Towards eleven o’clock she approached the very verge of the parapet, leaned forwards, and gazed upon the multitude beneath. Every one felt that the moment of the catastrophe had arrived. She rose up, however, and returned calmly to the window by which she had got out. When she saw there were lights in the room she uttered a piercing shriek, which was reechoed by thousands below, and fell dead into the street.”
Such would have been the result, according to poetical justice, in the beautiful romance of “La Sonnambula.” Had Amina been awakened while she was descending, she would probably have toppled down headlong!
Ev.Custom would render these wakings less formidable perhaps. There was a family alluded to by Dr. Willis, in which the father and many sons jostled each other nightly in their sleep-walk. This was probably but a cheerful recognition and to sleep again.
In Fraser’s Magazine is recorded a very curious story of this sort. If I remember right, an individual had the mortification of discovering every morning when he awoke, that the shirt in which he had slept was gone. Some trick was supposed to have been played upon him by an inmate of the house; and, thinking that the practical joke would soon be abandoned, he went on day after day, till his stock of linen was completely exhausted. The individuals of the family were now anxiously examined, but no tidings of the stray linen could be obtained. It was at last suspected that some depredator had entered the house and unswathed his sleeping victim, and a strict watch was made on the following night. At a suitable hour the somnambulist was seen to quit his bed, to pass through a skylight window to the roof of the house, to enter by another window a garret that was always locked, and to returnshirtless to his lair. The garret was examined, and the thousand and one shirts were found carefully wrapped up and deposited in a pyramid.
Something like this is the story of the spectre of Tappington, in the Ingoldsby legends.
The actions, therefore, unlike the ideas of a dream, are often neither heterogeneous nor inconsistent, and it is astonishing to observe the exactness with which the work is executed.
Dr. Pritchard tells the case of a farmer who arose, saddled his horse, and rode to market in his sleep: the Archbishop of Bordeaux the case of a student, who composed both theological essays and music thus unconsciously.
Now if the dreamer be awakened, he will relate the circumstances of his dream clearly; but the somnambulist, if roused, will generally express himself unconscious of what he intended, or of what he had done. It is, by the bye, often dangerous, on another account, to wake the sleep-walker; indeed, we have recorded the case of a young lady who was walking in a garden in her sleep; she was awoke, and almost instantly died.
But in some future somnambulism the same actions will be again performed unheeded. And if there be memory of the sleep-walk, the somnambulist, I believe, always relates his actions as the mereideas of a dream, and is long a sceptic of thefact, even if there are visible signs of his exertions.
Cast.Ican illustrate this question from the recollection and knowledge of an ancestor of my own. Early on a morning, an immense number of foot-prints were observed by the men about a gate (on a farm in Sussex), which were not thereovernight. On their return the servant girl was relating herdream; that she was told the cows had got into a wrong field, and that she had gone out, opened the gate, and driven them back. And I remember reading that a young gentleman of Brenstein was seen to rise, get out of his window on the roof, and take a brood of young magpies from their nest, and wrap them in his cloak. He then returned quietly to his bed, and in the morningrelated his dream, to his two brothers. They had slept with him, and had witnessed this feat, of which he would not be persuaded until they showed him the birds in his cloak.
I interrupt you, Evelyn.
Ev.It is evident, as in dreams, and in rare cases of disease, that the mind of the somnambulist is often a contrast to its waking faculty. The memory will leap over intervals. Dr. Dyce records an illustration of this. A girl,in a state of somnambulism, was taken to church, and wept at the subject of the sermon. She never adverted to this impression when she awoke; nor could she be brought to recollect it until, in hernext sleeping paroxysm, she spoke of it distinctly.
In delirium, also, we see these intervals of thought. The patient will commence a subject in the delirious state; when this has subsided, the subject is dropped. In thenext attackof delirium it will again be started, ay, and at the very point, eventhe word itself, at which it was broken off.
We read, in an American journal, that a man, previous to an attack of mania which lastedseveral years, had placed his work tools in the hollow of a tree. To them no allusion was made during the period of his disorder. When, however, this passed off, he directed his son to fetch them, believing that he left themonly yesterday.
In the same book, too, we learn of that lady who became maniacal as she was engaged in needle-work. For seven years she thought not of this; but directly she recovered, she asked for her needle-work and canvass. The same may occur in intoxication also, whichisbut another form of delirium. In Mr. Combe’s work we are told of a drunken man who left a parcel at a wrong house. Whensober, he recollected nothing of the circumstance; but whenagain intoxicated, he soon remembered his error, and reclaimed the parcel.
Astr.These cases form high contrasts with Hamlet’s proof of insanity:
——“Bring me to the test,And I the matter will reword, which madnessWou’d gambol from.”
——“Bring me to the test,And I the matter will reword, which madnessWou’d gambol from.”
——“Bring me to the test,And I the matter will reword, which madnessWou’d gambol from.”
——“Bring me to the test,
And I the matter will reword, which madness
Wou’d gambol from.”
Ev.Yet if you analyze their nature you will find them evenproofsof derangement; for you thus see that the faculty of memory is changed according to the state of mind. In the following case, by Dr. Abercrombie, we shall find the same variation in impression and taste. A girl, in her early youth, expressed her abhorrence of tunes played on the violin, which she termed adiscordant fiddle. She was after this introduced into more refined society, and became a somnambulist. During her paroxysm she imitated thebeautiful airswhich she said she had formerly heard on this same violin.
Lieutenant C—— was once my patient, and died a maniac. The insanity arose from thwarted ambition, and was confirmed by his notion that he had seen his death-fetch. For some time he walked and talked in his sleep; subsequently he would walk for an hour round the table unconsciously. In him, too, was this change of feeling. He once talked little, and cared less for his child; but now he would caress it fondly, and expressed the deepest anxiety for it. It was difficult to decide, at times, whether this gentleman was awake or not; indeed, these states of mania, which have been termed “melancholia errabunda” by Bellini and Montalti, are closely allied to somnambulism, for the walker is absorbed in deep thought, and totally unconscious of his actions. And the analogy appears to have been recognised by the law. It is well known that the brother of Lord Colepeper, who was a great dreamer and somnambulist, shot a guardsman and his horse. He was found guilty; but he was pardoned on the ground of his completeunconsciousnessin his somnambulism.
We do not wonder more to see the perfection with which these unconscious labours of the somnambulist are performed, than at the ease and power which is evinced, and the very slight fatigue which ensues; although the occupation might have been most laborious.
As inchoreathe most delicate girls will dance incessantly for twenty-four hours, resting merely for one sole hour; and yet they will sit down perfectly cool and free from fatigue.
Ida.Is it not wonderful that the somnambulist will incur great dangers with completesang-froid? They will walk over
——“Torrents roaring loud,On the unsteadfast footing of a spear;”
——“Torrents roaring loud,On the unsteadfast footing of a spear;”
——“Torrents roaring loud,On the unsteadfast footing of a spear;”
——“Torrents roaring loud,
On the unsteadfast footing of a spear;”
or scale the gigantic precipice, the mere contemplation of which would fright their mind from its propriety, when awake. I remember to have read of a French Jew, who walked by chance across a dangerous pass over a brook,in the dark, without the slightest fear or harm. The next day, perceiving what danger he had incurred, he fell down dead.
Ev.It is equally curious that a concentration of nervous energy, which is here the result of unconsciousness, should also be producedbyfear in some cases, which, in others,paralyses; but this is indeed a slight degree of heroism, or energy of despair. Thus we leap far higher, and run much faster, when danger threatens, than we could believe.
These are all very apt illustrations of somnambulism. I will check myself in quotations of more, as the phenomena may closely resemble each other.
But what is its philosophy, and how can I venture on its explanation, which involves the most intricate pathology of the nervous system? unless, with the self-complacency of quaint old Burton, I cut the Gordian knot by this affirmation,—“There is nothing offends but a concourse of bad humours, which trouble the phantasy. These vapours move the phantasy, the phantasy the appetite, which, moving the animal spirits, causeth the body to walk up and down, as if it were awake.”
Thus much I may expound to you, if I am again allowed to run up our scientific scale. The philosophy of the dream and of incubus refers to the activity of the brain with apassivebody; for somnambulism, we require anactivebody, with anunconsciousbrain.
Now there arefoursources of nervous influence:—the brain andcerebellum, within the skull; the marrow in the spinal canal; and the nervous bundles in the large cavities, termedganglia.
It is on the independent or unconscious function of the marrow, chiefly, that those mysterious actions, which do not seem to be willed by a conscious mind, depend.
In the day-dream, a thought or form shall present itself, even at a time when the mind is employed on subjects of a contrasted nature. These thoughts, or forms, are usually fraught with a high degree of pleasure or of pain, or refer to events of vital importance, to the dreamer;—such are the objects of the lover’s idolatry, the anticipation of misfortune, or subjects of prospective felicity. Under this excitement, the influence of external objects is often for a time lost; theretinamay be struck by a ray, or themembrana tympaniby a vibration, but the mind shall fail in its perception,—nointernalimpression being made. This cannot arise from a point of theretina, or the expansion of the auditory nerve being pre-occupied, as some have supposed. The idea of material impression must fail in explanation; for, on the instant that the mind is awakened, the external impression is again perceived. The external sense, in this case, is not in fault; nor is its direct influence on thesensoriumsuspended; for we find that a person will continue to read in this state, as it weremechanically; but the attention isdivertedby deep thought, so that the reader, at the end of his task, may have no remembrance of what he has been reading.
Let me tell of a curious little episode of Dr. Darwin’s, which will aid me in my illustration. A young lady was playing on the piano a very elaborate piece of music. It was correctly and scientifically performed, although she was agitated during her task; and when it was over, the lady burst into tears. She had been watching all the time a favourite canary in the fluttering of death; and with this catastrophe hermindwas almost wholly occupied, but herfingersdid not err in their complicated and delicate motions, which they undoubtedly would have done, if the will or mind alone had directed them.
In sanity of mind, and in mania, the most philosophical distinction is based on thehealthordiseaseof memory. The ecstacy of madness may not seem perhaps more irrational than an ecstatic vision, but the maniac will not re-word the matter; whereas the mere visionary will repeat the action of the trance as a dream.
Astr.But there is a sort of somnambulism the reverse of this. In the retreat to Corunna, many of the soldiers, although exhausted by a long march, and having actually fallen asleep, continued to move forwards, leaving their companions behind, who halted and laid down to repose.
Ev.This is thecontinued associationof that excitement which has produced muscular motion. The mind was exhausted and sleepy, the brain was inert; but we believe that the spinal marrow does, of itself, effect motion, while the will and consciousness sleep; and we may alsostandand sleep. These soldiers did not walk in their sleep, but slept in their walk.
Astr.I am informed, too, that Richard Turpin, in allusion to his famous flight to York, asserted that Black Bess appeared to gallop unconsciously.
Ev.It is true; and when we reflect on this gigantic feat, we may suppose that the mare gallopped the farther, because herconsciousness of fatigue was not awake, and her muscular energy was thus concentrated.
Paralyzed muscles will often quiver when the sound limb is quiet; the brain’s influence being, in this case too, inert, sensation is diminished; butinvoluntarymotion continues from a habit in the muscle, or the excitement of unexhausted irritability, as inchorea, spasm, &c. And in some cases ofpost mortemgalvanism, Dr. Dunbar, of Virginia, passed thegalvanic auraalong theulnarnerve of an executed negro, and the fingers instantly quivered, and assumed the attitude and action of one playing on a flute or the strings of a violin.
Astr.It is possible, then, to move without ourwillingto do so, or being conscious of our act.
Ev.There are believed to be, indeed it is almost a demonstration,—four sets of nerves, traced along the spinal marrow. Two to the brain, ofsensationandvolition, by which the mind feels what the body touches, and transmits its will to the muscles; two others to the marrow, by whichitalso is stimulated by outward touch, and by whichitexcites the muscles to motion.
Now when the brain’s influence is kept from muscle, that muscle will still possessirritability, derived from the spinal marrow; nay, that irritability will be greater,because it has not been expendedby the acts of that volition, which resides solely in the brain, and which is now cut off. Thus theexcito-motoryfunction, and the influence of volition, are in these casesantagonists. And this principle of theincidentandreflex spinalnerve is an explanation of the curious dilemma, regarding the suspension of the will in sleep and dream, to which Dr. Stewart alludes.—“Not a suspension of volition, but only ofits influenceover those organs, which it moves when we are awake.” Decide for yourselves between the physical and metaphysical theories.
Yet, do you not see that all this does not essentially require the direction of mind? If you tickle the palm of a sleeping child, it will close its hand upon your finger; if you awake it, andengage its attention, it will often leave its hold. This is a fact proved by theanencephalousor brainless children. Even the puppy, deprived of its brain, and also themammary fœtusesof the kangaroo and opossum, fix eagerly on the nipple when it touches their lips. There is a beautiful mechanism in the foot of the roosting birds, adapted to this physiological law. The tendon of the claws is tightened immediately they are touched, by which action they contrive to grasp the bough or perch even when asleep. In cases ofparalysiseven, the foot will sometimes be instantly drawn up, although it does not possess the least sensation; we may assert, then, that irritability is in aninverse ratioto sensibility.
Thepolype, in which we trace no brain or nerve, exists and moves by its irritability, and without sensation or consciousness. We know also that thevis insita, orvis nervosaof a muscle, that is, its irritability, exists even after the animal life has ceased. The turtle will live and move long after its brain has been removed. The heart itself, an involuntary muscle, is stimulated also to action without sensation. The heart of the assassin, Bellingham, beat long after he was cut from the gallows.
If I have made these things clear, I am now prepared to explain, with some anticipation, those two curious contrasts, somnambulism and incubus. If the spinal or motive nerves be asleep, and the cerebral or intellectual, or volition nerves, awake, we shall have night-mare; if, on the contrary, the motive nerves are in excess, beyond the sensiferous or volition nerves, we have sleep-walking.
Astr.I believe the philosophy of Leibnitz affirmstwoperceptions; one with, and another without, consciousness. I do not recollect if he distinguishes theseatof theseperceptions; but, if the brain be that which perceives, I presume consciousness will follow that perception sometimes in so slight a degree as not to excite judgment or reflection. Am I correct?
Ev.You have adopted the common error of metaphysicians. If, in the abstraction of waking moments, some persons talk to themselves, as it were unconsciously, so, from thereflexinfluence, may volition and motion occur, with as little self-feeling. That theimmediateimpression, however, and a necessity of action, may combine, is illustrated by Dr. Beattie’s case of the officer who could be thus excited in his sleep. By a whisper in his ear, he was induced to go through the whole ceremony of a duel, and did not completely wake until the report of his pistol roused him. This gentleman was also told that he had fallen overboard, and he began to imitate the motions of swimming; then that a shark was following him, when he would dive off his couch upon the floor; and when he was told that the battle was raging around him, he proved himself an arrant coward by running away.
Somnambulism may be induced by congestion or irritation ofthat pointwhere theincidentnerve blends with thegrey matterof the spinal marrow, producing internal irritation, as the tickling of the foot does through thecutaneousnerves of a senseless limb.
Cast.We are thankless creatures, dear Evelyn, but all this reiteration bewilders me, does it not you, Ida? Yet, in my simplicity, I can but think it unphilosophical entirely to disregard thewillas the spring of our actions.
Ev.If I mustEXPLAIN, fair lady, I cannot avoid prolixity. But to your question I will answer, no; for somnambulismmay be excitedby thememory of an intention. In the experiment made by the committee of the physical society of Lausanne, on the Sieur Devaud, of Vevay, it was proved that on the evening before the fit of somnambulism, his head was heavy, and he had a sense of oppression on his eye-lids. If, at this time, the mind was impressed by some legend, or story, or incident, the actions of the sleep-walk were perfectlycoincident with such a subject. If a romantic tale of banditti were related, his alarm would be apparent in his subsequent sleep. In this somnambulist was beautifully illustrated the effect of permanent impression on the brain, rendering, for a time, the sense of vision useless; for having once perused his paper, it was so imprinted on his mind, that theexactspot for each letter wasexactlyfixed onby the finger. And we have heard of one more interesting case, in which the somnambule, remembering that he had made errors in his writing, traced, on a blank paper substituted for that written on, the corrections,in the very places corresponding to the erroneous writing. And that here was memory was proved in this, that during the time his eyes were shut, the pen was dropped on thevery spotwhere the inkstand stood; but this being removed, no ink was obtained, and the writing was blank.
Now we believe that there are certain vessels which contribute to nervous energy, perhaps by secreting a nervous fluid in the brain, or by concentrating electricity, which Dr. Faraday believes may constitute theanimalportion of the nervous system. This influence may be profusely accumulated in a waking state; the resolution to act has been formed; or, there may be a rapid production in sleep of this energy. Then, when sleep occurs,this impression becomes uncontrolled. The third form of insanity of Spurzheim, irresistibility, exists, and the night-walk takes place. And indeed it may form an interesting analogy to that satiety of the voluptuary, “Childe Harold,”