HYPNOTISM
The history of hypnotism is closely associated with that of charlatanry,
though at some periods the practice has reached an honourable position
in therapeutics. The 'temple sleep' of ancient Greek medicine was a
hypnosis, but in later days hypnotism fell into oblivion till the time
of Mesmer, when it was so mingled with quackery and theatrical display
that some disrepute is even to this day attached to its honest use in
curative medicine.
The common attitude to it is one of mistrust. Thanks to its exploitation
by novelists, 'hypnotic power' is regarded as marvellous and uncanny,
and the mysterious person who exercises it is able to lead his victims
along any path. The fashion for public shows of Mesmerism has apparently
died away, their place being taken by thought-reading performances which
cater for the desire of man to believe that he is seeing a manifestation
of the occult.
The 'mesmeric eye', whose pupil dilates or contracts at the will of its
owner while its gaze remains fixed, has by imaginative writers been
ascribed alike to Lord Kitchener and the monk Rasputin, and presents a
phenomenon unknown to physiologists. The 'will-power' of the hypnotist
is as much a product of imagination, whilst the confident and willing
co-operation of the subject is really the factor of most importance.
Nobody but a very credulous person can be hypnotised against his will,
and at the beginning of the process the full co-operation of the subject
is necessary, though with repeated sittings his suggestibility becomes
increased and to that extent his 'will-power' may be said to have
diminished.
In the induction of hypnosis the essentials are quiet surroundings and
confidence of success on the part of both operator and subject. The
subject is then led to think only of the operator and his remarks and
directions, whilst generally some mechanical method is used which by
tiring the eyes produces a feeling of sleepiness. Success varies
according to the skill and confidence of the operator and their
persuasive effect on the subject.
Several sittings may be necessary before any depth of hypnosis is
obtained. If the result is successful the stream of consciousness is
thinned out and its place is taken by other thoughts and suggestions
supplied by the operator. In light hypnosis there is produced a
condition in which suggestions concerning, say, the cessation of bad
habits or modes of thought are more readily accepted than in the normal
state of consciousness, the subject having afterwards a complete memory
of the sitting. In deeper stages hypnotic sleep is produced,
suggestions concerning the bodily functions--producing, for example,
temporary rigidity or paralysis or loss of feeling--may take effect, and
the memory of the sitting may not be recalled afterwards; the subject
may carry out various movements by direction of the operator, and may
believe what his senses should contradict. In this deeper stage he is in
a condition to receive suggestions as to actions to be performed after
the hypnotic state has ceased.
The explanation of the increased suggestibility of the hypnotic subject
lies in the abolition, total or partial, of his stream of consciousness.
Such critical powers as he possesses are suspended and he has no
standard by which to judge assertions presented to him, like a man in a
dream who through a similar absence of standards of comparison sees no
absurdity in the suspension of the laws of gravity. The unconscious of
the subject is now accessible to suggestions which may be planted there
and will bear fruit even if the subject is unaware of them. It is an
experimental commonplace for a subject, told in a hypnotic state to
perform a simple but unnecessary action after waking, to invent a
rationalisation to account for doing it, whilst having no suspicion that
he does it as a result of suggestion.
But throughout all the stages he still has a volition of his own and
will do nothing that seriously conflicts with his well-rooted ideas of
conduct. If he is persuaded that an imaginary some one is sitting in a
chair, and is directed to stab him with an imaginary knife, he will
perhaps do so, for he would not object to doing so in his waking state;
but suggest to him that he should steal a real watch, and if he be a man
of ordinary honesty he will find reasons for not stealing it, though
perhaps the man of criminal tendencies would fall to the suggestion.
A story in illustration of this resistance was told me by a doctor who
practised hypnotism for the cure of the alcohol habit. Having
successfully suggested to a patient that whisky would produce nausea, he
congratulated himself on a cure, but to his annoyance the patient came
home one day cheerfully intoxicated with beer. Further hypnosis was
tried and, although the hypnotic state was induced as before, suggestion
had no further effect on the drinking habit. It turned out that the
patient had decided not to be cured of the beer habit, hence the
failure.
In hypnosis we have another example of dissociation; during the process
of induction the stream of consciousness is thinned out or completely
abolished according to the depth of hypnosis. The fact that there may or
may not be during the waking state a recollection of the events in a
previous hypnosis shows that the dissociation may be continuous or
abrupt (see Chapter IV). The substituted stream is made up of
suggestions from the operator and of material from the unconscious, for
the hypnosis may be used to revive memories that have been lost to the
consciousness through repression. In this last use we see a relation to
automatic writing and other methods of bringing to light the contents of
the unconscious.
In my account of the water-diviner I suggested that his dissociated
stream was especially trained to pick up indications that are not
observed by his ordinary self. The study of the hypnotic state shows
that our senses sometimes work better when freed from the control of the
consciousness, so that the subject is able to see or hear or feel what
is unobserved by the ordinary man. He possesses a hyperaesthesia such as
we see in a sleeping dog who wakes at the approach of a footstep
inaudible to the human ear and recognises whether it belongs to friend
or stranger. A similar alertness and its opposite can be seen at work in
ordinary sleep. The mother is roused by the slightest whimper of her
babe, whilst louder noises pass unheard; but the person who, with the
best intention of breaking a bad habit, has an alarm clock by his
bedside, may neglect its call for a few mornings and end by entirely
failing to hear it.
The hyperaesthesia belonging to the unconscious is shown in other
conditions than hypnosis and ordinary sleep. Jung quotes experiments[13]
of Binet, who says: 'According to the calculations I have been able to
make, the unconscious sensitiveness of a hysteric is on some occasions
fifty times more acute than that of a normal person.'
[Footnote 13: _Analytical Psychology_, p. 25.]
Dr. Hurst, writing on War Neuroses,[14] says: 'In one severe case true
hyperacusis was present, and Captain E. A. Peters estimated that the
patient heard sixteen times more acutely than the average normal
individual. It was possible to carry on a conversation with him by
whispering in one corner of the ward when he was lying in the opposite
corner, although men with normal hearing who were standing half-way
between in the centre of the room could not hear a word of what was
whispered.'
[Footnote 14: _British Medical Journal_, September 29, 1917.]
I myself knew a war-strained patient who, as a result of terrifying
experiences, had a dread of aeroplanes and could not only hear a plane
long before his comrades but could tell at once by the hum of the engine
whether it was British or German. In other respects his hearing was no
better than his neighbour's.
Another case under my observation was that of a nervous lady with a fear
of draughts. Whilst secluded in her bedroom she claimed to be affected
when far-away doors were open, and showed a most uncanny and accurate
knowledge as to whether they were open or shut, though this knowledge
was probably derived from the sense of hearing and not from any
sensitivity to heat or cold.
The word 'hyperaesthesia' is used to denote an excessive acuity of our
senses. The examples quoted above refer to the sense of hearing; but
other senses, such as touch and sight, may be similarly sharpened.
Binet's experiments were carried out on the sense of touch.
There is no question here of the development of any new sense; the
hyperaesthesia is only an exaggeration of the senses we already possess.
Its importance lies in its common alliance with a dissociated
receptivity which may lead it to be overlooked and cause its results to
be ascribed to something else.