CHAPTER VIII.

THE PATHOLOGY OF WAKEFULNESS.

As nations advance in civilization and refinement, affections of the

nervous system become more frequent, because progress in these directions

is necessarily accompanied by an increase in the wear and tear of those

organs through which perceptions are received and emotions excited; and,

in addition, the mode of life, as regards food, clothing, occupation, and

habits, is being constantly removed farther from that standard which a

regard for hygienic considerations would establish as most advantageous.

If, as we have every reason to believe, each thought involves the

destruction of a certain amount of nervous tissue, we can very well

understand why, as we go forward in enlightenment and in all the elements

of material and intellectual progress, we are at the same time, unless we

also advance in the knowledge of the laws of our being, hurrying ourselves

with rapid strides to a state of existence in which there is neither waste

nor repair.

I am far, however, from desiring to be understood as intimating that a

high state of civilization is antagonistic to long life or health. What is

lost in these directions as regards the nervous system is more than made

up by the increased provision afforded for comfort in other ways. But

while we have improved the hygienic condition of our cities and dwellings;

while we as a rule clothe our bodies according to the principles of

sanitary science and common sense; and while cleanliness of person has

become the rule, and filthiness the exception, we have made little or no

progress in the hygienic management of those organs which place us in

relation with the world, and a healthy condition of which is so essential

to our happiness.

Among the many derangements in the normal operation of the nervous system,

induced by irregular or excessive cerebral action, those which relate to

the function of sleep are certainly not the least in importance, whether

regard be had to the actual comfort of the individual or to the serious

consequences to which they may give rise. To the consideration of some of

these morbid conditions I propose to devote the remainder of the present

volume, and first to inquire into the most important of them, wakefulness

or insomnia.

As a symptom of various diseases which affect the human organism,

wakefulness is sufficiently well recognized by systematic writers on the

practice of medicine, though, even here, it is very certain that its

pathology has seldom been clearly made out. As a functional disorder of

the brain, arising from inordinate mental activity, it has received

scarcely any notice. This neglect has, doubtless, been in a great measure

due to the fact that it is only within late years that the condition in

question has become so common as to attract much attention. At present

there are, probably, but few physicians engaged in extensive practice in

any of our large cities who do not in the course of the year meet with

several cases of obstinate wakefulness, unaccompanied, in the early stages

at least, by any other prominent disorder of the system.

In my opinion, no one cause is so productive of cerebral affections as

persistent wakefulness, for not only is the brain prevented from obtaining

rest, but it is kept in a state of erethism, which, if not relieved, must

sooner or later end in organic disease. Southey laid the seeds of that

disorder which terminated in the loss of his intellect, by watching at the

bedside of his sick wife during the night, after the excessive literary

labors of the day.[121] Newton’s mind also suffered in the later years of

his life through deprivation of sleep;[122] and Dr. Forbes Winslow, in

remarking on Southey’s case, says: “No brain can remain in permanent

health that has been overtasked by nightly vigils still more than by daily

labor.”[123]

Renaudin,[124] in a very philosophical essay, calls attention to the fact

that persistent wakefulness is sooner or later followed by insanity; and

Maury[125] states his opinion to the same effect. The remarks of Dr.

Ray[126] upon this subject are so apposite that I reproduce them in part,

commending at the same time the little book from which they are taken to

the attention of the reader.

“A periodical renewal of the nervous energies as often as once a day is an

institution of nature, none the less necessary to the well-being of the

animal economy, because in some degree under the control of the will. To

disregard its requirements with impunity is no more possible than it is to

violate any other organic law with impunity, and no man need flatter

himself that he may systematically intrench upon the hours usually devoted

to rest and still retain the freshness and elasticity of his faculties.

With the same kindliness that marks all the arrangements of the animal

economy, this condition is attended with many pleasing sensations and

salutary effects, gently alluring us to seek the renovation which it

offers. ‘While I am asleep,’ says the immortal Sancho Panza, ‘I have

neither fear nor hope; neither trouble nor glory; and blessings on him

who invented sleep,--the mantle that covers all human thoughts; the food

that appeases hunger; the drink that quenches thirst; the fire that warms;

the cold that moderates heat; and, lastly, the general coin that purchases

all things; the balance and weight that make the shepherd equal to the

king and the simple to the wise.’ The ill effects of insufficient sleep

may be witnessed on some of the principal organic functions, but it is the

brain and nervous system that suffer chiefly and in the first instance.

The consequences of a too protracted vigil are too well known to be

mistaken, and many a person is suffering, unconscious of the cause, from

the habit of irregular and insufficient sleep. One of its most common

effects is a degree of nervous irritability and peevishness, which even

the happiest self-discipline can scarcely control. That buoyancy of the

feelings, that cheerful, hopeful, trusting temper that springs far more

from organic conditions than from mature and definite convictions, give

way to a spirit of dissatisfaction and dejection; while the even demeanor,

the measured activity, are replaced either by a lassitude that renders any

exertion painful, or an impatience and restlessness not very conducive to

happiness. Upon the intellectual powers the mischief is still more

serious. They not only lose that healthy activity which combines and

regulates their movements in the happiest manner, but they are no longer

capable of movements, once perfectly easy. The conceptions cease to be

clear and well defined, the power of endurance is weakened, inward

perceptions are confounded with outward unhappiness, and illusory images

obtrude themselves unbidden upon the mind. This kind of disturbance may

pass sooner or later into actual insanity, and many a noble spirit has

been utterly prostrated by habitual loss of rest.”

CASE I.--Some years ago a case similar in several respects to that of

Southey came under my observation. A gentleman of superior mind and of

great powers of application spent from sixteen to eighteen hours each day

in severe literary labor. This of itself would have been a heavy strain to

most persons, but he went regularly to bed and slept soundly six hours

each night, and it is possible that he might have continued this mode of

life for several years without serious inconvenience, when his wife was

suddenly taken ill. His anxiety on her account was very great, and he

spent nearly the whole night by her bedside, sleeping only for about an

hour toward morning. After three weeks passed in this manner, his wife was

pronounced out of danger, but he found it impossible to resume his former

habits. He could neither study nor sleep. The nights were passed in

walking the floor of his chamber or in tossing restlessly on his bed.

There were no pain, no fever, no disorder of any other organ. There was

nothing but ceaseless activity of the mind and an utter inability to

sleep. Stimulants and narcotics only increased the violence of his

symptoms, and every other means employed failed to give relief. The danger

of his situation was pointed out to him and travel recommended. He

followed the advice, and though it was several months before he was

completely relieved, his condition began at once to improve. He was taught

a lesson which has not been without influence, in causing him to task his

mental faculties less severely.

CASE II.--Another, an intimate friend, who occupied an important public

position, gave so much time and attention to his duties, which were of a

highly laborious character, that he deprived himself of the amount of

sleep to which he had previously been accustomed. It was rarely the case

that he got to bed before two or three o’clock in the morning, and then an

hour or two was always occupied in active intellection. The consequence

was that he finally broke down through want of the mental repose so

essential to him. Inflammation of the brain ensued, and this terminated in

acute insanity, from which he died.

It would be easy to bring forward other instances of which I am perfectly

cognizant, or which have been cited by authors in illustration of the

point in question, but it is scarcely necessary to enlarge further upon

this portion of the subject. We should be careful, however, not to mistake

the effect for the cause, an error which is often committed in this as

well as in other matters. It is well known that many cases of insanity are

marked in the early stages by persistent insomnia. Doubtless this is

frequently a consequence of the morbid action already set up in the brain;

but much observation has satisfied me that it is more often the cause of

the cerebral aberration, and that by proper medical treatment the mental

excitement may be generally allayed. Certainly the means most commonly

resorted to in such instances are adopted without the full consideration

so imperatively necessary, and consequently are fully as liable to

increase as to lessen the disturbance.

We cannot employ too much care in doing everything in our power to prevent

the occurrence of those slight attacks of cerebral congestion, which,

though perhaps scarcely observable at the time, are yet fraught with very

serious consequences. Persons have had their whole characters changed by

an apparently trifling interference with the circulation of blood in the

head. A person of my acquaintance was naturally of good disposition,

amiable in his character, and considerate in his dealings with others; but

after an attack of vertigo, attended with unconsciousness of but a few

moments’ duration, his whole mental organization underwent a radical

change. He became deceitful, morose, and exceedingly overbearing and

tyrannical toward all with whom he came in contact, and whom it was safe

for him to maltreat. Tuke and Bucknill[127] refer to the case of a lady

whose character had always been distinguished for conscientiousness, whose

religious education had been of a somber kind, and who, suffering under an

attack of small-pox attended with congestion of the brain, recovered, with

the natural bent of her disposition greatly exaggerated. The irritability

of conscience had become an actual disease, destroying the happiness of

the individual and rendering her incompetent to discharge any of the

duties of life. The same authors also mention the instance of a

distinguished admiral who had always been remarkable for pride and

liability to passionate anger, becoming the subject of cerebral

excitement, loss of sleep, and general feverishness consequent upon the

chagrin caused by a supposed neglect by the government.

In primary insomnia there is always an increase in the quantity of blood

circulating in the brain. This is either absolute or relative. The former

is the case when there has been no exhausting disease, hemorrhage, or

other debilitating influence in operation, and while, though general good

health exists, the amount of blood in the cranium is augmented; the

latter, when from any cause the system has become reduced, and when, while

this condition prevails, a temporary activity takes place in the cerebral

circulation. The first may properly be called active, the latter passive

insomnia. In the one there is more blood in the brain than is normally

present; in the other, though there may be less blood than in health, the

quantity is increased over the amount to which the brain has in a measure

accustomed itself.

Thus if we suppose the cerebral vessels of a healthy brain to contain

ordinarily a pint of blood, and the amount to be increased to a pint and a

half, and continued at this standard for several consecutive days, a state

of active insomnia ensues. If, on the other hand, this pint should be

reduced to a gill by any cause producing general debility, such as

hemorrhage, starvation, or disease, and then by some exciting mental

emotion, the excessive use of alcoholic liquors, or other influence acting

for a considerable period, be increased to half a pint, a condition of

passive insomnia would be produced--the latter condition resulting not

from a disturbance of the normal relation existing between the _intra_ and

_extra_ cranial blood, but of that which has been established by morbific

causes, and to which the organism has become habituated.

CASE III.--The following is a good example of the active form of morbid

wakefulness:

A short time since a gentleman was under my charge in whose case the only

deviation from health which could be perceived was an utter inability to

sleep. Being by profession a broker, and passing his days, and a great

portion of his nights, in the stock and gold rooms, during a period of

great financial excitement, his brain had been kept so continually in a

state of intense action that it was impossible for him, when he went to

bed, to compose his mind so as to allow of sleep ensuing. Thoughts similar

to those which were excited during his business operations were in full

flow, notwithstanding all his efforts to banish them. Calculations were

entered into, and speculations were constantly being formed with as great

or even greater facility than during the day. Many of the latter were of

the most extravagant character, a fact of which he was fully aware at the

time, but he nevertheless found it impossible to refrain from indulging in

them. All his other functions were performed with regularity. His appetite

was good, he took a not inconsiderable amount of exercise, and he

committed no excesses of any kind except as regarded his brain. When I

first saw him he had not slept for six nights, although he had taken large

quantities of brandy, morphine, and laudanum; but beyond a slight feeling

of confusion in his mind at times, and a little pain in his eyeballs, he

experienced no unpleasant sensations during the day. As soon, however, as

his head touched the pillow, and he tried to get to sleep, a feeling of

the most intense uneasiness came over him, while at the same time his face

and ears became hot and flushed. His mental faculties were roused into

increased action; he tossed restlessly from one side of the bed to the

other, and by the time morning came he was thoroughly exhausted, mentally

and physically. A cold bath and a breakfast of two large cups of coffee,

beefsteak and eggs, set him up for the balance of the day, till he retired

to bed, when the phenomena of the previous night would be repeated.

In this case I conceived that the blood-vessels of the brain, from

overdistention, had lost, in a great measure, their contractile power, and

that a larger quantity of blood was, in consequence, circulating within

the cranium than was normal. The vessels were therefore in a condition

very similar to that of a bladder in which, from the desire to urinate

having been too long resisted, contraction cannot be induced even by the

most strenuous exertion of the will. As the gentleman was of strong,

athletic build, and otherwise in full health, blood-letting would

undoubtedly have proved of great service; but, for reasons which will

appear hereafter, I determined to try a remedy less likely to do harm, and

fully as capable of doing good. I administered thirty grains of the

bromide of potassium at six o’clock in the evening, and repeated the dose

at ten, directing him to go to bed half an hour subsequently. The first

dose produced a decided sedative action, and the second was still more

effectual in calming the mental excitement. When he lay down, his mind was

not disturbed by a flow of thoughts, and he fell almost unconsciously into

a quiet sleep, from which he did not awake till near seven o’clock the

following morning. There were no unpleasant symptoms of any kind; on the

contrary, he felt strengthened and refreshed. The next night one dose was

administered at about bedtime, which was also followed by a sound and

invigorating sleep. No further treatment was given, as on the following

night sleep came naturally.

Sir Benjamin Brodie,[128] without, however, making the distinction I have

insisted upon, refers to the active or sthenic type of wakefulness in the

following quotations from a little work which should be in the hands of

all who are interested in the philosophy of the mind.

Speaking of the causes of the wakefulness of some persons, he says: “At

the same time there is no doubt that there is sometimes a morbid condition

of the nervous system, the nature of which we cannot well explain, which

is incompatible with sleep. The patient says, ‘I feel fatigued and wearied

and want to go to sleep, but I cannot sleep.’”

In asserting as he does that this kind of wakefulness is sometimes the

forerunner of mental derangement, Sir Benjamin is supported by many cases

detailed by authors on psychological medicine, and the following, which he

gives,[129] is directly to the point:

“A gentleman of my acquaintance in whose family circumstances had occurred

which were to him sources of intense anxiety, passed six entire days and

nights without sleep. At the end of this time he became affected with

illusions of such a nature that it was necessary to place him in

confinement. After some time he recovered perfectly. He had never shown

any signs of mental derangement before, nor has any one of his family, and

he has never since been similarly affected. This was an extreme case. But

do not examples of the want of sleep, proving very similar results, though

in a very much less degree, occur under our observation constantly? How

altered is the state of mind in any one of us after even two sleepless

nights! Many a person who under ordinary circumstances is cheerful and

unsuspicious, becomes not only irritable and peevish, but also labors

under actual, though transitory, illusions; such, for example, as thinking

that others neglect him or affront him who have not the smallest intention

of doing either the one or the other.”

Cases similar to the following, which is one of the passive variety of

wakefulness, are by no means uncommon.

CASE IV.--A lady, aged about thirty-five, unmarried, and of rather

delicate constitution, consulted me in regard to persistent wakefulness,

with which she had been affected for nearly a month. According to the

account which she gave me, she had received a severe mental shock, which

had not lost its influence when a subject of great anxiety was forced upon

her consideration. Her menstrual period, which had been due about ten days

before she came under my notice, had been anticipated by a week, and the

flow was prolonged much above the ordinary time. She had, therefore, lost

a good deal of blood, and was, in consequence, greatly reduced in

strength. This, conjoined with the exhaustion due to the long-continued

wakefulness, rendered her condition a much more serious one than would

otherwise have been the case.

She had taken large doses of laudanum, of ether, and of valerian, together

with many other medicines, the names of which I do not now recollect,

besides employing a variety of means of traditional efficacy. All had,

however, been useless. Homœopathy was then tried with an equal want of

success. When I first saw her she was nervous and irritable, her hands

trembled violently upon the slightest exertion of their muscles, her eyes

were bloodshot, the pupils contracted, and the lids opened to the widest

possible extent. There was a constant buzzing in the ears, and the sense

of hearing was much more acute than was natural. There was also increased

sensibility of all that portion of the surface of the body (the skin of

the hands, arms, legs, back, and breast) which I submitted to examination

with the æsthesiometer. Her pulse was 98, irritable, small, and weak.

At night all her symptoms were increased in violence. Her mind was filled

with the most grotesque images which it was possible for the imagination

to conceive, and with trains of ideas of the most exaggerated and

improbable character. These succeeded each other with a regularity so well

marked that she was able to foresee the routine night after night. “No

one,” she said, “can imagine the weariness I feel, or the horror with

which I look forward to the long rows of too-familiar phantoms and

thoughts which I know will visit me before morning. There is one set,” she

continued, “which always comes as the clock strikes two. No matter what

may be passing through my mind it is banished by this. It consists of a

woman with very long hair, who sits on a rock by the sea-side, with her

face buried in her hands. Presently a man armed with a long sword comes up

behind her, and, clutching her by the hair, drags her to the ground. He

puts his knee on her breast, and still holding her hair, cuts it off, and

binds her with it, hand and foot. He then commences to pile stones on her,

and continues to do so till she is entirely covered, notwithstanding her

piercing shrieks, which I hear as distinctly as I do real sounds. Turning

then to the sea he cries out, ‘Julia, you are avenged. My vow is

accomplished. Come! come!’ He then draws a dagger from his breast and

stabs himself to the heart. He falls over the pile of stones he has

raised, and instantly hundreds of little devils not more than a foot high

swarm around his body, and finally carry it off through the air. My horror

at all this is extreme. For more than an hour the scene is passing before

me, and though I know it is all purely imaginary, I cannot shake off the

terror it induces.”

I questioned this lady closely, and found that she was very intelligent,

and fully sensible of the unreality of all her visions. There was no

evidence whatever of the slightest tendency to insanity, but there was a

condition present which would surely terminate in the loss of her reason

if not quickly removed. I regarded her symptoms as indicating a state of

passive cerebral congestion, and as calling for stimulants rather than

what are called sedatives. I directed, therefore, that she should take an

ounce of whisky, properly diluted, every hour, commencing six hours before

bedtime; that she should immerse her whole body except her head in water,

at the temperature of 98° F., for half an hour just before retiring for

the night, and, instead of lying down, should sit up in an easy chair and

try to sleep in that position.

I administered the whisky upon the same principle that governs us when we

apply stimulating lotions to an inflamed eye, or give alcoholic liquors in

passive congestions of other parts of the body. The warm bath was

prescribed with a view to its dilating action upon the blood-vessels

exposed to its influence; and the sitting position with the object of

facilitating the flow of blood from the head, and impeding its return

through the carotids and vertebrals.

All these measures I had employed previously with success, in many cases

of inability to sleep due to delirium tremens, and which is almost always

of the passive or asthenic form. In the instance under consideration their

action was all that could be desired. At ten o’clock, having taken the

whisky and bath as directed, she sat down to sleep in a comfortable

chair, and, as her mother informed me, was asleep in less than half an

hour. She awoke about three o’clock, but soon fell asleep again after

another dose of whisky, and remained in this condition till about nine

o’clock in the morning. She then took breakfast, feeling very much

refreshed, but was unable to remain awake longer than two or three hours,

but, taking to her chair, slept soundly till evening. That night she was

again overcome with sleep, and it was passed very much as was the previous

one. No further medicine was required, and after a few nights she went to

bed as had been her custom, and slept soundly till morning. Under the use

of iron and lager beer she recovered her health and strength.

The foregoing cases are given as examples of the two forms of morbid

wakefulness or insomnia to which I wish to call attention. They show that,

though the cause in each variety may be essentially the same, the means of

relief are not altogether identical. It is important, therefore, to

discriminate between them. But the main point upon which it is necessary

to insist is, that in morbid wakefulness, whether occurring in strong or

weak persons, there is always an excessive amount of blood circulating

through the substance of the brain. In the course of the discussion of the

points involved in the physiology of sleep, this subject was incidentally

noticed. In the following chapter, however, it will be dwelt upon with

more particularity.

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