This rapturous excitement is not unfrequently the province of the
physician. Fortunately perhaps for the patient, it is an incurable malady,
illustrating the lines of Dryden,
There is a pleasure, sure, in being mad,
Which none but madmen know.
If we admit this state of ecstasy to be a mental aberration, it is surely
of an enviable nature, since it elevates the soul to a beatitude which is
rarely the lot of man.
No definition of this state can equal that given by St. Theresa of her own
feelings. By prayer she had attained what she calls a "celestial
quietude,--a state of union, rapture, and ecstasy." "I experienced," she
continues, "a sort of sleep of all the faculties of the soul--intellect,
memory, and volition; during which, though they were but slumbering, they
had no conception of their mode of operation. It was a voluptuous
sensation, such as one might experience when expiring in raptures in the
bosom of our God. The soul is unconscious of its actions; she (the soul)
knows not if she speaks or if she remains silent, if she laughs or if she
cries. It is, in short, a blessed extravagance, a celestial madness, in
which she attains in the knowledge of true wisdom, an inconceivable
consolation. She is on the point of merging into a state of languor;
breathless, exhausted, the slightest motion, even of the hands, is
unutterably difficult. The eyes are closed by a spontaneous movement; or,
if they remain open, the power of vision has fled. In vain they endeavour
to read: they can distinguish letters, but are unable to class them into
words. Speak to a person in this absorbed condition, no answer will be
obtained; although endeavouring to speak, utterance is impossible.
Deprived of all external faculties, those of the soul are increased, to
enjoy glorious raptures when conversing with the Deity and surrounding
angels." These conversations the blessed St. Theresa relates; and she
further states, that after having remained about an hour in this joyous
trance, she recovered her usual senses, and found her eyes streaming in
tears, as though they were weeping for the loss she had experienced in
being restored to earthly relations.
Now, with all due deference to St. Theresa, this state was most probably a
hysteric condition. Zimmerman relates two cases somewhat of a similar
kind. Madame M. experienced effusions of divine love of a peculiar
nature. She first fell into a state of ecstasy, motionless and insensible,
during which, she affirms, she felt this love penetrating her whole being,
while a new life seemed to thrill through every fibre. Suddenly she
started up, and seizing one of her companions, exclaimed, "Come, haste
with me to follow and call Love, for I cannot sufficiently call upon his
name!"--A French young lady was the second instance of this affection. She
also frequently lost the power of speech and all external senses, animated
with a love divine, spending whole nights in ecstatic bliss, and
rapturously embraced by her mystic lover. It is difficult, perhaps, to
separate this amorous feeling from physical temperament; and the following
remarks of Virey on the subject of St. Theresa are most judicious:--"She
possessed an ardent and sensitive disposition, transported, no doubt, by
terrestrial affection, which she strove to exchange for a more exalted
ardour for the Deity; for devotion and love are more or less of a similar
character. Theresa was not fired by that adoration which is exclusively
due to the infinite and invisible Intelligence which rules the universe;
but she fancied a sensible, an anthropomorphous divinity; so much so, that
she not unfrequently reproached herself with bitterness that these
raptures were not sufficiently unconnected with corporeal pleasures and
voluptuous feelings."
St. Theresa was not the only beatified enthusiast who suspected that the
evil spirit occasionally interfered in those ecstatic visions. St. Thomas
Aquinas divides ecstasies into three classes;--the first arising from
divine power, and enjoyed by the prophets, St. Paul, and various other
saints. The second was the work of the devil, who bound down all external
senses, suspended their action, and reduced the body to the condition of a
corpse: such were the raptures in which magicians and sorcerers were
frequently entranced, during which, according to Tertullian and other
writers, the soul quitted the body to wander about the world, inquire into
all its occurrences, and then returned with the intelligence it had
obtained to its former abode. The third rapturous category of St. Thomas
he simply attributes to physical causes, constituting mental alienation.
May not all these ecstatic raptures be considered as belonging to this
third class? It has been observed that women, hysteric ones in particular,
were the most subject to this supposed inspired affection; and amongst men
it has also been remarked, that the enraptured individual was in general
nervous, debilitated, and bald; and it is well known that the fall of the
hair is frequently the result of moral and physical weakness, brought on
by long studies, contemplation, grief, and illness, all of which may
occasion mental aberration; for what other denomination can be given to
the ecstatic state of the Monks of Mount Athos, who pretended or fancied
that they experienced celestial joys when gazing on their umbilical
region, in converse with the Deity? Hence were they called
_Omphalopsychians_, whose notions in the matter are thus described by
Allatius: "Elevate thy spirit above earthly concerns, press thy beard upon
thy breast, turn thine eyes and all thy thoughts upon the middle of thine
abdomen, hold thy breath, seek in thy bowels the abode of thy heart--then
wilt thou find it unalloyed with dense and tenebral mists; persevere in
this contemplation for days and nights, and thou shalt know uninterrupted
joys, when thy spirit shall have found out thy heart and has illumined
itself."[4]
Bernier relates an act of supposed devotion amongst the Fakirs nearly as
absurd, when, to seek the blessings of a new light, they rivet their eyes
in silent contemplation upon the ceiling; then gradually looking down,
they fix both eyes gazing, or rather squinting, at the tip of their nose,
until the aforesaid light beameth on them.
St. Augustin mentions a priest who could at will fall into one of these
ecstasies, during which his external senses were so totally suppressed
that he did not experience the pangs of the torture. Cardanus affirms that
he was possessed of the same faculty. "_Quoties volo_," he says, "_extra
sensum quasi in exstasim transeo--sentio dum eam ineo, ac (ut verius
dicam) facio, juxta cor quandam separationem, quasi anima abscederet,
totique corpori res haec communicatur, quasi ostiolum quoddam aperiretur.
Et initium hujus est a capite, maxime cerebello, diffunditurque per totam
dorsi spinam, vi magna continetur; hocque solum sentio, quad sum extra
meipsum magnaque quadam vi paululum me contineo._"
This state of mind is usually succeeded by contemplation, which has justly
been considered one of the attributes of Genius. This contemplation,
however, may be applied to positive relation, or to the workings of
fiction. In the latter case it becomes to a certain degree mental, and
beyond the control or the influence of our reason, although we cannot
regulate the rationality of our mental pursuits by any given or
acknowledged standard. The pseudo-philosopher, who searches for the
_elixir vitae_ or the power of transmuting metals, and the judicial
astrologer, are in the eyes of society madmen: yet, do they reason on
certain rational principles, and in many respects may be considered wise;
one might figuratively say, that here the mind must have taken flight
beyond its natural limits, if we can limit thought. In the wild wanderings
of Theosophy man has fancied that by abstracting himself from the world,
he might place himself in relation with the Divinity, and has so forcibly
indulged the flattering illusion, that he actually believes that he is in
converse with his Creator or his angels. Unquestionably this is a state of
mania, yet is it founded upon a systematic train of ideas, that, strictly
speaking, does not partake of mental aberration, but rather of enthusiasm.
Although an indulgence in this may terminate in mania, still there is
something delightful in these fond aberrations. A new world--a new
condition is evoked--we are freed from the trammels of society and its
prejudices--and perhaps encompassed by misery we burst from its shackles
into another orb of our own creation, when the eyes closed in a vision of
bliss--a meridian sunbeam, through the darkness of night. If the slumber
of the visionary ushered in death, his destiny might be enviable--he had
already quitted the world, seeking the presence of his God--his soul had
already soared from its earthly tenement.
There is no doubt that such contemplation may lead us to a better
knowledge of the Supreme Being, whose image and attributes have been
distorted by ignorance and superstition. It has been truly said, that
until the light of Christianity shone upon mankind, God was unknown. He
had been represented as wrathful and revengeful--implacable in his
anger--insatiable in his thirst for blood--when he was revealed to us
upon the earth, gentle, forgiving, loving, humble, and charitable. The
type of all excellence--and delivering doctrines so pure, so convincing,
as to entitle him to the name of _Saviour_, even were his godhead
doubted--for who could question the salvation of those who followed his
laws. Until ambition swayed the church and polluted the altar with blood
and rapine--how happy, how blessed were these followers--even in the midst
of persecution and in agonies--pardoning their barbarous murderers and
praying for their conversion.
Unfortunately according to the temperament of individuals their ecstasy
has frequently led to an enthusiasm which knew no bounds, and induced the
illuminated visionary to consider all men who did not coincide in his
opinions the enemies of Divinity--hence arose fanaticism and
persecution--yet did these murderous madmen conceive that they were
wielding their hateful sword in the cause of an offended God; and,
although we read of their excesses and cruelty with horror, they were not
bad men, and many of them imagined that they were fulfilling a heavenly
mission. I have known many worthy and amiable ecclesiastics in Spain and
in Portugal who advocated the inquisition as a useful institution,
although they readily admitted that it had too frequently been rendered
instrumental to ambition and political intrigues.
This state of mental exaltation is not unfrequently within the province of
a physician's care. The treatment like that of all moral affections is a
task of great difficulty. Perhaps the best curative means to be adopted is
occupation of the body in active pursuits. St. Augustine was so convinced
of this necessity of occupation to prevent ecstatic habits, that the monks
of the Thebaid cultivated their ground with such industry, that they
freighted several vessels with their produce. Priest has observed in his
extensive practice in insanity that he never met with an insane
naturalist. Travelling is also to be enjoined. Marriage has also been
advised, although it is to be feared that the little charms men of this
description may have to suit a woman's fancy, might lead to contemplation
of a nature widely different from beatitude. The Jewish Rabbi tell us,
that as soon as Moses became contemplative and prophetic, his wife
Marjarin left him. It is certain that enthusiasm produces a concentration
of mind prejudicial to all other functions.[5]
There is no doubt that melancholy or intense cogitation may bring on this
morbid condition. Zimmerman relates that the mathematician Viote was
sometimes so wrapped up in calculation, that he was known to remain three
days and three nights without sleep or food: and Mendelsohn the
philosopher, who was called the Plato of Germany, fell into a swoon the
moment philosophy was talked of; and he was therefore ordered by his
doctor not to think. Being asked one day what he contrived to do when not
allowed thought, he replied, "Why, I go to the window and count the tiles
on the roof of the opposite house."
This morbid condition of our intellectual faculties has been admirably
described by Johnson, in his Rasselas. "To indulge the power of fiction,
and send imagination out upon the wing, is often the sport of those who
delight too much in silent speculation. He who has nothing external that
can divert him, must find pleasure in his own thoughts, and must conceive
himself what he is not; for who is pleased with what he is? He then
expatiates in boundless futurity, and culls from all imaginary conditions
that which for the present moment he would most desire; amuses his desires
with impossible enjoyments, and confers upon his pride unattainable
dominion. The mind dances from scene to scene, unites all pleasures, in
all combinations, and riots in delights which nature and fortune, with all
their bounty cannot bestow. In time, some particular train of ideas fixes
the attention: all other intellectual gratifications are rejected; the
mind, in weariness or leisure, returns constantly to the favourite
conception, and feasts on the luscious falsehood whenever she is offended
with the bitterness of truth. By degrees the reign of fancy is confirmed;
she grows first imperious, and in time despotic. Then fictions begin to
operate as realities, false opinions fasten upon the mind, and life passes
in dreams of raptures or of anguish."
The celebrated physician Boerhaave was once engaged in so profound a
meditation that he did not close his eyes for six weeks. Any fixity of
idea may be considered as a monomania. Pascal, being thrown down on a
bridge, fancied ever after that he was standing on the brink of a terrific
precipice, which appeared to him an abyss ever ready to ingulf him. So
immutable was this dread, that when his friends conversed with him they
were obliged to conceal this ideal peril with a chair, on which they
seated themselves, to tranquillize his perturbed mind. This is an
instance of a painful fixity of thought, the result of which is
melancholic mania; whereas ecstatic exultation is the enjoyment of a
delicious sensation unknown in our habitual earthly enjoyments, and
beautifully expressed by Shakspeare, when Pericles thus addresses
Helicamus--
O Helicanus! strike me, honoured sir;
Give me a gash,--put me to present pain,
Lest this great sea of joy, rushing upon me,
O'erbear the shores of my mortality,
And drown me with their sweetness.
Archimides was heedless of the slaughter around him. Father Castel, the
inventor of the ocular harpsichord, spent an entire night in one position,
ruminating on a thought that struck him as he was retiring to rest. And it
is related of an arduous student, that he was reflecting so deeply on some
interesting and puzzling subject, that he did not perceive that his feet
were burnt by the fire near which he was seated.