SOMNAMBULISM.
The phenomena exhibited by a person in the condition of somnambulism are
so wonderful, that they have from the earliest times excited the
superstitious feelings of the ignorant, and claimed the most serious
attention of the learned. To see an individual apparently asleep to the
greater part of surrounding objects, yet so keenly awake to others as to
be able to perform the most intricate actions without the aid of the
senses, is so greatly at variance with the common experience of mankind,
as to call up feelings of astonishment, and perhaps of awe, in the minds
both of the vulgar and those accustomed to scientific investigation. In
those times, when the marvelous exercised so powerful an influence over
mankind, and when all phenomena out of the ordinary course of everyday
life were regarded as supernatural, it was the prevailing belief that the
somnambulist was possessed. Modern science has at last dispelled this
idea, and though it has not yet been able to furnish a rational theory of
somnambulism which will account for all the manifestations of the
affection, it has done much toward elucidating the functions of different
parts of the nervous system, and thus to prepare our minds for a full
understanding of the subject.
Somnambulism has been defined[109] as “a condition in which certain senses
and faculties are suppressed or rendered thoroughly impassive, while
others prevail in most unwonted exaltation; in which an individual, though
asleep, feels and acts most energetically, holding an anomalous species of
communication with the external world, awake to objects of attention, and
most profoundly torpid to things at the time indifferent; a condition
respecting which most commonly the patient on awaking retains no
recollection; but on any relapse into which, a train of thought and
feeling related to and associated with the antecedent paroxysm will very
often be developed.”
This definition, though unnecessarily long and by no means perfect, will
nevertheless suffice for a general description of the chief phenomena of
the affection. It accords with the generally received theory. My own views
of the nature of somnambulism will appear in the course of the following
remarks.
In the introduction to his classical work on the subject under
consideration, Bertrand[110] classifies the different kinds of
somnambulism according to their causes. He recognizes--
1. A particular nervous temperament which predisposes individuals
otherwise in good health to paroxysms of somnambulism during their
ordinary sleep.
2. It is sometimes produced in the course of certain diseases, of which it
may be considered a symptom or a crisis.
3. It is often seen in the course of the proceeding necessary to bring on
the condition known as animal magnetism.
4. It may result as the consequence of a high degree of mental exaltation.
It is in this case contagious by imitation to such persons as are
submitted to the same influence.
From these four divisions of causes, Bertrand makes four kinds of
somnambulism--the essential, the symptomatic, the artificial, and the
ecstatic. As he wrote nearly twenty years before the publication of Mr.
Braid’s remarkable researches, he was of course unacquainted with that
form of artificial somnambulism now known as hypnotism, and which may
properly be included in his third class. I shall simplify his arrangement
by dividing the several kinds of somnambulism into two classes--the
natural and artificial.
_Natural somnambulism_ may occur in persons who exhibit no marked
deviations from the standard of health, and in whom there is no very
evident nervous excitability. It is usually, though not always,
manifested during ordinary sleep, and it is common for authors to speak of
it as being necessarily connected with a dream. Thus, Macario[111] says it
is a sleep in which the nervo-motor system and all the other organs are
put in action under the influence of a dream. A few cases cited from other
authors, and from my own experience, will tend to the more complete
elucidation of the symptoms of this curious affection. Bertrand[112]
quotes the following instance from the _Encyclopædia_:
“The Archbishop of Bordeaux has informed me that when at the seminary he
was acquainted with a young ecclesiastic who was a somnambulist. Curious
to ascertain the nature of the malady, he went every night to the chamber
in which the young man slept. He saw, among other things, that the
ecclesiastic got up, took paper, and composed and wrote sermons. When he
had finished a page, he read it aloud--if one can apply the term to an
action done without the aid of sight. When a word displeased him, he wrote
the necessary corrections with great exactness. I have seen the beginning
of one of his sermons which he wrote in the somnambulistic state, and
thought it well composed and correctly written; but there was an
alteration which surprised me. Having used the expression _ce divin
enfant_, he thought as he read it over that he would change the word
_divin_ for _adorable_. He therefore effaced the first word, and wrote the
second above it. He then perceived that the word _ce_ properly placed
before _divin_ would not do before adorable; he therefore added a _t_ to
the preceding letters, so that the expression read _cet adorable enfant_.
The same person, an eye-witness of these facts, in order to ascertain
whether or not the somnambulist made use of his eyes, put a card under his
chin in such a manner as to prevent his seeing the paper on the table; but
he still continued to write. Wishing still to discover whether or not he
distinguished different objects placed before him, the Archbishop took
away the paper on which he wrote and substituted several other kinds at
different times; but he always perceived the change because the pieces
were of various sizes. When a piece exactly like his own was placed before
him he used it, and wrote his corrections on the places corresponding to
those on his own paper. It was by this means that portions of his
nocturnal compositions were obtained. These the Archbishop has had the
goodness to send to me. The most astonishing among them was a piece of
music written with great exactitude. A cane had served him for a
ruler--the clef, the flats, and the sharps were all in their right places.
All the notes were first made as circles, and then those which required it
were blackened with ink. The words were all written below. Once they were
in such large characters that they did not come directly under their
proper notes. He soon, however, perceived his error, and corrected it by
effacing what he had written and writing it over again.
“One night, in the middle of winter, he imagined himself to be walking on
the bank of a river and seeing a child fall in. The severity of the
weather did not prevent him from determining to save it. He threw himself
on his bed in the posture of a man swimming, went through all the motions,
and, after becoming well fatigued with the severity of this exercise, he
felt a bundle of the bedclothes, which he took to be the drowning child.
He seized it with one hand, while he continued to swim with the other, in
order to regain the bank of the imaginary river. Finally, he placed the
bundle in a place which he evidently determined to be dry land, and rose,
shivering, with his teeth chattering as though he had emerged from icy
water. He remarked to the by-standers that he was frozen, that he would
die of cold, and that his blood was like ice. He then asked for a glass of
brandy in order to restore his vitality; but there being none at hand, a
glass of water was given him instead. He, however, detected the difference
and asked peremptorily for brandy--calling attention to the great danger
he incurred from the cold. Some brandy was finally obtained. He drank it
with much satisfaction, and remarked that he felt much better.
Nevertheless, he did not awake, and, returning to bed, slept tranquilly
the rest of the night.”
Gassendi[113] had in his service a young man who every night arose in his
sleep, descended into the cellar and drew some wine from a cask.
Frequently he went out into the streets in the middle of the night,
sometimes even he went into the country and walked on stilts, in order to
cross a rapid stream which ran around the city. If he happened to awake
from his sleep after having crossed this torrent, he was afraid to recross
it so as to return home. Gassendi relates that when this man waked in the
course of his perambulations he suddenly found himself in darkness, but as
he had the faculty of remembering all that had taken place during his
dream, and of recognizing the place where he found himself, he was able to
grope his way to his bed. The darkness, therefore, which was an obstacle
to the exercise of his sight when he was awake, was no impediment when he
was in the state of somnambulism.
Dr. Prichard[114] cites from Muratori[115] the cases of Forari and
Negretti, which are curious instances of the affection in question.
“Signor Augustin Forari was an Italian nobleman, dark, thin, melancholic,
and cold-blooded, addicted to the study of the abstract sciences. His
attacks occurred at the waning of the moon, and were stronger in the
autumn and winter than in the summer. An eye-witness, Vigneul Marville,
gave the following description of them:
“One evening, toward the end of October, we played at various games after
dinner; Signor Augustin took a part in them along with the rest of the
company, and afterward retired to repose. At eleven o’clock, his servant
told us that his master would walk that night, and that we might come and
watch him. I examined him after some time with a candle in my hand. He was
lying upon his back and sleeping with open, staring, unmoved eyes. We were
told that this was a sure sign that he would walk in his sleep. I felt his
hands and found them extremely cold, and his pulse beat so slowly that his
blood appeared not to circulate. We played a tric-trac till the spectacle
began. It was about midnight, when Signor Augustin drew aside the
bed-curtains with violence, arose and put on his clothes. I went up to him
and held the light under his eyes. He took no notice of it, although his
eyes were open and staring. Before he put on his hat, he fastened on his
sword-belt, which hung on the bedpost; his sword had been removed. Signor
Augustin then went in and out of several rooms, approached the fire,
warmed himself in an arm-chair, and went thence into a closet where he had
his wardrobe. He sought something in it, put all the things into disorder,
and, having set them right again, locked the door and put the key into his
pocket. He went to the door of the chamber, opened it and stepped out on
the staircase. When he came below, one of us made a noise by accident; he
appeared frightened, and hastened his steps. His servant desired us to
move softly and not to speak, or he would become out of his mind; and
sometimes he ran as if he were pursued, if the least noise was made by
those standing around him. He then went into a large court and to the
stable, stroked his horse, bridled it, and looked for the saddle to put on
it. As he did not find it in the accustomed place, he appeared confused.
He then mounted his horse and galloped to the house-door. He found this
shut, dismounted and knocked with a stone, which he picked up, several
times at the door. After many unsuccessful efforts, he remounted and led
his horse to the watering-place--which was at the other end of the
court--let him drink, tied him to a post and went quietly to the house.
Upon hearing a noise, which the servants made in the kitchen, he listened
attentively, went to the door and held his ear to the keyhole. After some
time he went to the other side, and into a parlor in which was a
billiard-table. He walked around it several times and acted the motions of
a player. He then went to a harpsichord, on which he was accustomed to
practice, and played a few irregular airs. After having moved about for
two hours, he went to his room and threw himself upon his bed, clothed as
he was, and the next morning we found him in the same state; for as often
as his attack came on he slept afterward from eight to ten hours. The
servants declared that they could only put an end to his paroxysms either
by tickling him on the soles of his feet, or by blowing a trumpet in his
ears.”
The history of Negretti was published separately by two physicians,
Righellini and Pigatti, who were both eye-witnesses of the curious facts
which they relate.
“Negretti was about twenty-four years old, was a sleep-walker from his
eleventh year; but his attacks only occurred in the month of March,
lasting at farthest till the month of April. He was a servant of the
Marquis Luigi Sale. On the evening of the 16th of March, 1740, after going
to sleep on a bench in the kitchen, he began first to talk, then walked
about, went to the dining-room and spread a table for dinner, placed
himself behind a chair with a plate in his hand as if waiting on his
master. After waiting until he thought his master had dined, he removed
the table, put away all the materials in a basket, which he locked in a
cupboard. He afterward warmed a bed, locked up the house, and prepared for
his nightly rest. Being then awakened, and asked if he remembered what he
had been doing, he answered no. This, however, was not always; he often
recollected what he had been doing. Pigatti says he would awake when water
was thrown into his face, or when his eyes were forcibly opened. According
to Maffei, he then remained sometimes faint and stupid. Righellini
assured Muratori that his eyes were firmly closed during the paroxysm, and
that when a candle was put near to them, he took no notice of it.
Sometimes he struck himself against the wall and even hurt himself
severely. Hence it would seem that he was directed in his movements by
habit, and had no actual perception of external objects. This is confirmed
by the assurance that if anybody pushed him, he got out of the way and
moved his arms rapidly about on every side; and that when he was in a
place of which he had no distinct knowledge, he felt with his hands all
the objects about him, and displayed much inaccuracy in his proceedings;
but in places to which he was accustomed he was under no confusion, but
went through his business very cleverly. Pigatti shut a door through which
he had just passed; he struck himself against it in returning. The writer
last mentioned was confident that Negretti could not see. He sometimes
carried about with him a candle, as if to give him light in his
employment; but on a bottle being substituted, took it and carried it,
fancying that it was a candle. He once said during his sleep that he must
go and hold a light to his master in his coach. Righellini followed him
closely, and remarked that he stood still at the corners of the streets
with his torch in his hand not lighted, and waited awhile in order that
the coach which he supposed to be following might pass through the place
where light was required. On the eighteenth of March he went through
nearly the same process as before in laying a table, etc., and then went
to the kitchen and sat down to supper. Signor Righellini observed him, in
company with many other cavalieri very curious to see him eat. At once he
said, as recollecting himself, ‘How can I so forget? To-day is Friday and
I must not dine.’ He then locked up everything and went to bed. On another
occasion he ate several cakes of bread and some salad which he had just
before demanded of the cook. He then went with a lighted candle into the
cellar and drew wine, which he drank. All these acts he performed as
usual, and carried a tray upon which were wineglasses and knives, turning
obliquely when passing through a narrow doorway, but avoiding any
accident.”
Macario[116] cites from I. Franck the case of a young peasant, aged about
sixteen, and endowed with a degree of intelligence above his age and
condition, who was rendered somnambulic by the grief caused by the sudden
death of his father. A few weeks after this event, he dreamed that he saw
two unknown and frightful-looking men who advanced slowly toward his bed,
and in menacing language ordered him to rise immediately and accompany
them, threatening that if he refused they would return the following night
and take him by force. This dream had so strong an effect upon him that he
became melancholic. Two days afterward, while he was sleeping quietly, he
dreamed that his father’s spirit came to him, accompanied by the two men
who had previously visited him, and ordered them to seize his son,
notwithstanding his resistance, and to carry him off.
The young man dreamed that he was transported through a delightful country
of vast extent; he heard the harmonious sounds from flutes and other
musical instruments; he saw young people dancing on the charming plains,
and he ate to satiety of delicious viands. Immediately the scene changed;
his father’s spirit disappeared, and his ferocious companions carried him
high up into the air and then suddenly let him fall into a barrel. The
servants returning with the cows, found the young man in the stable shut
up in an empty barrel, scantily covered, and almost dead with cold and
fright. Restored by frictions and warmth, he had no recollection of
anything connected with his situation beside the dream above recorded. At
the end of a week, he again rose from bed in his sleep, but finding the
door locked, he returned and remained quiet. In a short time the disease
ceased entirely.
The same author also quotes from Franck the case of a Jewish tailor, who,
during the attacks of somnambulism to which he was subject, recited in a
low voice his customary prayers in Hebrew. When he came to certain parts
he raised his voice, called out aloud, and imitated the gestures of the
rabbis in the synagogues. While thus engaged his eyes were wide open, and
the pupils insensible to the stimulus of light. Then his face became pale,
he presented the appearance of weeping, his whole body was covered with a
cold, profuse sweat, and his pulse rose to 130. This crisis was followed
by a tranquil prayer, to which sooner or later another access of fury
succeeded; and this series continued for an hour or two, or till his
prayers had been repeated for the prescribed period.
When strongly shaken he awoke with a startled manner, but if left to
himself fell asleep again, and resumed his prayers at the place where he
had been interrupted. When awake he declared that he had no recollection
of what had happened during his sleep. The paroxysms appeared every day
except Tuesday. The patient had a brother who was also a somnambulist.
These cases will give an idea of somnambulism as it has been witnessed by
other observers, or as its phenomena have impressed them. The following
instances of the disease have come under my own notice.
A young lady, of great personal attractions, had the misfortune to lose
her mother by death from cholera. Several other members of the family
suffered from the disease, she alone escaping, though almost worn out with
fatigue, excitement, and grief. A year after these events, her father
removed from the West to New York, bringing her with him and putting her
at the head of his household. She had not been long in New York, before
she became affected with symptoms resembling those met with in chorea. The
muscles of the face were in almost constant action, and though she had not
altogether lost the power to control them by her will, it was difficult at
times for her to do so. She soon began to talk in her sleep, and finally
was found one night by her father, as he came home, endeavoring to open
the street-door. She was then, as he said, sound asleep, and had to be
violently shaken to be aroused. After this she made the attempt every
night to get out of bed, but was generally prevented by a nurse who slept
in the same room with her, and who was awakened by the noise she made in
the room.
Her father now consulted me in regard to the case, and invited me to the
house in order to witness the somnambulic acts for myself. One night,
therefore, I went to his residence and waited for the expected
manifestations. The nurse had received orders not to interfere with her
charge on this occasion, unless it was evident that injury would result,
and to notify us of the beginning of the performance.
About twelve o’clock she came down stairs and informed us that the young
lady had risen from her bed and was about to dress herself. I went up
stairs, accompanied by her father, and met her in the upper hall partly
dressed. She was walking very slowly and deliberately, her head elevated,
her eyes open, her lips unclosed, and her hands hanging loosely by her
side. We stood aside to let her pass. Without noticing us, she descended
the stairs to the parlor, we following her. Taking a match, which she had
brought with her from her own room, she rubbed it several times on the
under side of the marble mantle-piece until it caught fire, and then,
turning on the gas, lit it. She next threw herself into an arm-chair and
looked fixedly toward a portrait of her mother which hung over the
mantle-piece. While she was in this position, I carefully examined her
countenance, and performed several experiments with the view of
ascertaining the condition of the senses as to activity.
She was very pale, more so than was natural to her; her eyes were wide
open and did not wink when the hand was brought suddenly in close
proximity to them; the muscles of the face, which when she was awake were
almost constantly in action, were now perfectly still; her pulse was
regular in rhythm and force, and beat 82 per minute, and the respiration
was uniform and slow.
I held a large book between her eyes and the picture she was apparently
looking at, so that she could not possibly see it. She nevertheless
continued to gaze in the same direction as if no obstacle were interposed.
I then made several motions as if about to strike her in the face. She
made no attempt to ward off the blows, nor did she give the slightest sign
that she saw my actions. I touched the cornea of each eye with a
lead-pencil I had in my hand, but even this did not make her close her
eyelids. I was entirely satisfied that she did not see--at least with her
eyes.
I held a lighted sulphur-match under her nose, so that she could not avoid
inhaling the sulphurous acid gas which escaped. She gave no evidence of
feeling any irritation. Cologne and other perfumes, and smelling-salts
likewise failed to make any obvious impression on her olfactory nerves.
Through her partially opened mouth, I introduced a piece of bread soaked
in lemon-juice. She evidently failed to perceive the sour taste. Another
piece of bread, saturated with a solution of quinine, was equally
ineffectual. The two pieces of bread remained in her mouth for a full
minute, and were then chewed and swallowed.
She now arose from her chair and began to pace the room in an agitated
manner; she wrung her hands, sobbed, and wept violently. While she was
acting in this way, I struck two books together several times so as to
make loud noises close to her ears. This failed to interrupt her.
I then took her by the hand and led her back to the chair in which she had
previously been sitting. She made no resistance, but sat down quietly and
soon became perfectly calm.
Scratching the back of her hand with a pin, pulling her hair, and pinching
her face, appeared to excite no sensation.
I then took off her slippers, and tickled the soles of her feet. She at
once drew them away, but no laughter was produced. As often as this
experiment was repeated, the feet were drawn up. The spinal cord was
therefore awake.
She had now been down stairs about twenty minutes. Desiring to awake her,
I shook her by the shoulders quite violently for several seconds, without
success. I then took her head between my hands and shook it. This proved
effectual in a little while. She awoke suddenly, looked around her for an
instant, as if endeavoring to comprehend her situation, and then burst
into a fit of hysterical sobbing. When she recovered her equanimity, she
had no recollection of anything that had passed, or of having had a dream
of any kind.
A gentleman of very nervous temperament informs me that upon one occasion
he dreamed that his place of business was on fire. He got up in his sleep,
dressed himself, and walked a distance of over a mile to his store. He was
aroused by the private watchman, who stopped him while in the act of
looking through the grating of the door, under the impression at first
that he had caught a burglar.
A young lady who some time since was under my care for intense periodical
headaches, informed me that, just previous to each attack, she walked in
her sleep, but had never any recollection of what she did while in the
somnambulic state. Her mother stated that when her daughter was in this
condition, she did not use her eyes, although they were wide open, nor
did she appear to hear loud noises made close to her ears.
In relation to the activity of the senses during somnambulism, there is
great diversity of opinion among those who have studied the affection.
This is doubtless due to the fact that somnambulists differ among
themselves as regards the use they make of their senses--some availing
themselves of the aid they can derive from these sources, while others do
not appear to employ them at all.
Thus it is stated that Negretti kept his eyes closed, and yet when a box
of snuff was handed to him, he took a pinch without hesitation; and the
young ecclesiastic whose case I have already quoted, performed even more
complex acts than this.
Castelli, a young somnambulist and a student of pharmacy, performed many
astonishing acts during his paroxysms. One night he was found in the
somnambulic condition, translating a passage from the Italian into French,
and searching out the words in a dictionary. Prichard[117] assumes from
this fact that he must have seen the words. He states further, that
somnambulists have been known to write and even to correct their
compositions, and to do other acts which could not possibly have been
performed without sight. While it is certainly true that somnambulists
have done all these things, it is equally certain that they have often
performed them without the aid of their eyes. In the case of Castelli, a
candle was on the table, which some one who saw him extinguished. He
immediately arose, and lighted it, although there was no occasion for his
doing so, as the room was well lit with other candles.[118] These he had
not observed, but was only cognizant of the one which he probably did not
see, but which was in relation with him through some more subtle channel.
Many somnambulists are known to have acted as though they saw in rooms
which were perfectly dark. A gentleman informs me that his wife frequently
walks in her sleep, and performs many somnambulic acts in entire darkness.
On one occasion she went into a dark closet, and, opening a trunk, began
to arrange the contents. It contained clothing of various kinds, which had
been put into it the day before without being sorted. She classified all
the articles, such as stockings, handkerchiefs, shirts, etc., without
making a single mistake--and without the possibility of being assisted by
light sufficient for ordinary eyesight.
Bertrand[119] refers to the case of a young lady who was accustomed to
rise from her bed in a state of somnambulism and to write in complete
darkness. A remarkable feature of this instance was, that if the least
light, even that of the moon, entered the room, she was unable to write.
She could only do so in the most perfect obscurity.
In the case of the young lady, the particulars of which, with my
experiments, I have related, the sense of sight was certainly not
employed, nor were the other senses awake to ordinary excitations.
On the other hand, it is evident that some somnambulists make use of their
eyes and their other organs of sense in the ordinary way, when the
excitations made upon them are in relation with the train of thought or
ecstatic condition which prevails.
Macario,[120] in reference to this point, says:
“Somnambulists are insensible to external impressions, except those which
are in relation with their ideas, their thoughts, and their feelings. It
is thus that persons, the subjects of somnambulism, will pass before
objects or individuals without seeing them, although they may have their
eyes open. This phenomenon occurs often to individuals who are fully
awake, although in a less degree. Thus when we are strongly preoccupied
with any subject, the objects which surround us make no impression on our
senses or our mind. Archimedes while meditating on a discovery, was an
entire stranger to all that was going on around him. A part only of his
brain was awake and active. While thus engaged, Syracuse was taken by the
enemy, and he was not diverted from his thoughts either by the chant of
victory by the conqueror, or by the cries and groans of the wounded and
the dying.”
As regards the sense of hearing, it is doubtless true that somnambulists
rarely exercise it. There have been cases in which replies have been made
to questions; but such answers have been given automatically, and not as
if the mind took cognizance of the subject. A person intently engaged in
reading, will often answer questions without suffering his train of
thought to be interrupted. When he has ceased his study, he is surprised
when told that he has been conversing.
The sense of taste appears to be very inactive in general, though in a few
cases it has been manifested. The same is true in even a greater degree
with the sense of smell.
The sense of touch is very differently affected, for so far from being
diminished in its action, it is invariably unduly exalted. Though the eyes
do not see, the ears hear, the tongue taste, or the nose smell, the
somnambulist has one sense which is fully awake, and by which he is
enabled to guide himself through the most devious passages in dangerous
paths.
In this fact it appears to me we have a strong argument in favor of the
theory of somnambulism which I have already referred to, and which appears
to me to be supported by much additional evidence. I propose this view not
without hesitation; but much study of the phenomena of somnambulism, and
of analogous states of the nervous system, has certainly tended to
convince me of its general correctness, and I am not without the hope that
other students of neurology will find it reconcilable with their
observations and experiments.
In my opinion, somnambulism is a condition of the organism in which
through profound sleep the action of the encephalic ganglia is so
materially lessened that the spinal cord becomes able to control and
direct the body in its movements.
That the spinal cord even in the waking state constantly exercises this
power, is a matter of common observation. I have already alluded to some
of the facts which establish this proposition; but, for the purpose of
giving as complete and connected a view as possible of all the points
which bear upon the theory of somnambulism above enunciated, I shall not
hesitate to recall them to the recollection of the reader, and to bring
forward other circumstances which appear to be in relation with the
question.
If an individual engaged in reading a book allows his mind to be diverted
to some other subject than that of which he is reading, he continues to
see the words, which make no impression upon his brain, and he turns over
the leaf whenever he reaches the bottom of a page with as much regularity
as though he comprehended every word he has read. He suddenly, perhaps,
brings back his mind to the subject of his book, and then he finds that
he has perused several pages without having received the slightest idea of
their contents.
Again: when, for instance, we are walking in the street and thinking of
some engrossing circumstance, we turn the right corners and find ourselves
where we intended to go, without being able to recall any events connected
with the act of getting there.
In such instances as these--and many others might be adduced--the brain
has been occupied with a train of thought so deeply that it has taken no
cognizance or superintendence of the actions of the body. The spinal cord
has received the several sensorial impressions, and has furnished the
nervous force necessary to the performance of the various physical acts
concerned in turning over the leaves, avoiding obstacles, taking the right
route, and stopping in front of the right door.
All cases of what are called “absence of mind” belong to the same
category. Here the brain is completely preoccupied with a subject of
absorbing interest, and does not take cognizance of the events which are
transpiring around. An individual, for instance, is engaged in solving an
abstruse mathematical problem. The whole power of the brain is taken up in
this labor, and is not diverted by circumstances of minor importance.
Whatever actions these circumstances may require, are performed through
the force originating in the spinal cord.
The phenomena of reverie are similar in some respects to those of
somnambulism. In this condition the mind pursues a train of reasoning
often of the most fanciful character, but yet so abstract and intense,
that though actions may be performed by the body, they have no relation
with the current of thought, but are essentially automatic, and made in
obedience to sensorial impressions which are not perceived by the brain.
Thus a person in a state of reverie will answer questions, obey commands
involving a good deal of muscular action, and perform other complex acts,
without disturbing the connection of his ideas. When the state of mental
occupation has disappeared, there is no recollection of the acts which may
have been performed. Memory resides in the brain and can only take
cognizance of those things which make an impression on the mind, or of
those ideas which originate in the encephalon.
In the case of a person performing on a piano, and at the same time
carrying on a conversation, we have a most striking illustration of the
diverse though harmonious action of the brain and spinal cord. Here the
mind is engaged with ideas, and the spinal cord directs the manipulations
necessary to the proper rendering of the musical composition. A person who
is not proficient in the use of this instrument, cannot at the same time
play and converse with ease, because the spinal cord has not yet acquired
a sufficient degree of automatism, and the mind cannot be divided in its
action.
Darwin gives a very striking example of the independent action of the
brain and spinal cord. A young lady was playing on the piano a very
difficult musical composition, which she performed with great skill and
care, though she was observed to be agitated and preoccupied. When she had
finished, she burst into tears. She had been intently watching the
death-struggles of a favorite bird. Though her brain was thus absorbed,
the spinal cord had not been diverted from the office of carrying on the
muscular and automatic actions required by her musical performance.
The brain cannot entertain two ideas or initiate two acts at the same
time. A person cannot, for example, think of a lamp and a book
simultaneously; the thought of the one and the thought of the other will
be found to alternate by any one who feels inclined to make the
experiment, and not to exist at the same time. Neither can the brain think
and simultaneously will. Whatever volitional acts it performs, are
distinct from thought, and clearly separated from it by the element of
time.
Now in all sleep there is more or less somnambulism, because the brain,
according as the sleep is more or less profound, is more or less removed
from the sphere of action. If this quiescent state of the brain is
accompanied, as it frequently is in nervous and excitable persons, by an
exalted condition of the spinal cord, we have the higher order of
somnambulic phenomena produced, such as walking and the performance of
complex and apparently systematic movements; if the sleep of the brain be
somewhat less profound, and the spinal cord less excitable, the
somnambulic manifestations do not extend beyond sleep-talking; a still
less degree of cerebral inaction and spinal irritability produces simply a
restless sleep and a little muttering; and when the sleep is perfectly
natural, and the nervous system of the individual well balanced, the
movements do not extend beyond changing the position of the head and limbs
and turning over in bed.
As regards the power of the spinal cord to supply the nervous force
requisite for the performance of such actions as those specified, I do not
think there can be any question. Much observation and many experiments
have convinced me that the importance of the spinal cord as a center of
intellection and volition has been unwarrantably ignored. It is of course
not a matter for doubt that the faculty of consciousness is latent in the
spinal cord so long as the brain is in a state of activity, and that the
faculty of memory does not reside in it at all. When the brain acts, it
ordinarily assumes the control of the cord; but there are times,
especially during the course of certain diseases, when the latter obtains
the mastery over the superior organ and dominates with terrible power.
The actions initiated by the spinal cord are more or less automatic in
their character--though not altogether so. The motions of a frog deprived
of its brain, show a certain amount of intellection and volition. That
they are not more extensive is probably due to the fact that all the
organs of the senses, except that of touch, have been removed with the
brain. In persons engaged in intense thought and performing actions not in
accordance therewith, the impressions made upon the organs of the senses
are not appreciated by the brain, but pass through its substance to the
spinal cord with which they are in connection by continuity of structure,
and which initiates the subsequent actions.
In the somnambulic individual the brain is still more incapable of
receiving sensorial impressions. Whatever sense is therefore exercised
during the condition of somnambulism, owes its activity to the spinal
cord; but in most cases of the state in question, the brain is so
profoundly asleep that it does not even transmit impressions to the cord,
and hence there are no sensations at all, except that of touch, unless the
irritations capable of exciting them are extraordinarily great.
In artificial somnambulism--the hypnotism of Braid--the spinal cord
acquires a very high degree of susceptibility to sensorial impressions,
and the brain is even more incapable than in natural somnambulism of
asserting its superiority. But the consideration of this interesting
branch of the subject does not enter into the plan of the present work.
The _causes_ of somnambulism are generally to be found inherent in the
organism of the individual, though they may be excited to activity by
many circumstances which are capable of exhausting the nervous system or
producing emotional disturbance. Young persons are more subject than those
of maturer age, and there are few children who do not exhibit at some time
or other manifestations of the condition in question, such as muttering
and talking in their sleep, laughing, crying, or getting out of bed.
Persons of the nervous temperament are those most liable to be affected.
In four cases of chorea which have come under my care, the subjects were
sleep-walkers in their youth, and the young lady whose case I have related
was choreic at the time.
In regard to the _treatment_ there is not much to be said. In the great
majority of cases the affection yields readily to appropriate measures;
the most efficacious of which consists in means adapted to break up the
habit. This may be done by waking the patient before the expected
paroxysm, or by placing a tub of cold water so that the feet will be put
into it on the attempt to leave the bed. Full exercise in the open air,
the avoidance of luxurious habits, and sleeping with the head well raised,
are always beneficial.
Of medicines, I have no experience except with the bromide of potassium,
and those calculated to improve the tone of the nervous system. The former
I have used in two cases with entire success. One of them was that of the
young lady, the details of whose case I have related; the other that of a
gentleman, forty years of age, who became somnambulic from mental
excitement, due to the extensive business operations in which he was
engaged. Large doses of this remedy--forty to sixty grains taken at
bedtime, and smaller doses, ten to thirty grains, taken twice through the
day--broke up the habit entirely in a few weeks. Among the other remedies,
I have employed phosphorus, strychnia, and iron with manifest advantage.
Cold baths are generally useful. I am acquainted with a young lady who
cured herself by taking a cold bath every night just before going to bed.
The so-called antispasmodics can scarcely be useful.
Much may be done also by suitable mental training. The reading of exciting
fictions, and the witnessing of sensational theatrical exhibitions, are
always prejudicial to persons subject to attacks of somnambulism.