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THE 
 
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 PHILOSOPHY 
 
 SLEEP. 
 
 BY 
 
 ROBERT MACNISH, 
 
 LL-THOR OF " THE ANATOMY OF DRONKliNNESS," AND MEMBER OF THE FACULTV 
 OF PHYSICIANS AND SURGEONS OF GLASGOW. 
 
 THIRD EDITION. 
 
 GLASGOW: W. R. M'PHUN. 
 
 MDCC.CXXXVI. 
 
 / 
 
-K^fcs^ 
 
 (tI.ASGOW: 
 Wward Kh\»ll, Printer t<> the I uiTcriity. 
 
TO 
 JOHN K. MACNISH, Esg. 
 
 LATE PRESIDENT OF THE FACULTY OF PHYSICIANS 
 AND SURGEONS OF GLASGOW, 
 
 THIS WORK 
 
 IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED, 
 BY HIS SON, 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
il 
 
 I 
 
PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. 
 
 The present edition of The Philosophy of Sleep 
 .8 so different from its predecessor, that it inay 
 almost be regarded as a new treatise. The work has 
 been, in a great measure, re-written, the arrange- 
 ment altered, and a great accession made to the 
 number of facts and cases: the latter, many of 
 which are now published for the first time, will, I 
 hope, add much to its value. Some of them have 
 occurred in my own practice; and for others, I am 
 indebted to the kindness of several ingenious friends. 
 Notwithstanding every care, the work is far from 
 being what it ought to be, and what I could have 
 wished ; but, imperfect as it is, it may, perhaps, 
 stimulate some other inquirer to investigate the 
 subject more deeply, and thus give rise to an abler 
 disquisition. So far as I know, this is the only 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 treatise in which an attempt is made to give a 
 complete account of Sleep. The subject is not an 
 easy one; and, in the present state of our know- 
 ledge, moderate success is probably all that can be 
 looked for. 
 
 In the first edition, Dr. Gall's theory, that the 
 brain is composed of a plurality of organs, each 
 organ being the seat of a particular mental faculty, 
 was had recourse to for the purpose of explaining 
 the different phenomena of Sleep ; in the present 
 Edition, this doctrine is more prominently brought 
 forward. The great objection to the prevailing 
 metaphysical systems is, that none of their positions i 
 can be proved ; and that scarcely two writers agree 
 upon any particular point. The disciples of Gall, 
 on the other hand, assume that Iiis system having 
 ascertainable facts to illustrate it, is at all times sus- 
 ceptible of demonstration — that nothing is taken for 
 granted ; and that the inquirer has only to make an 
 appeal to nature to ascertain its fallacy or its truth. 
 The science is entirely one of observation : by that 
 it must stand or fall, and by that alone oue^ht it to 
 
PREFACE. Vll 
 
 be tested. The phrenological system appears to 
 me the only one capable of aflPording a rational 
 and easy explanation of the phenomena of mind. 
 It is impossible to account for dreaming, idiocy, 
 spectral illusions, monomania, and partial genius 
 in any other way. For these reasons, and for the 
 much stronger one, that having studied the science 
 for several years with a mind rather hostile than 
 otherwise to its doctrines, and found that nature 
 invariably vindicated their truth, I could come to 
 no other conclusion than that of adopting them as 
 a matter of belief, and employing them for the 
 explanation of phenomena which they alone seem 
 calculated to elucidate satisfactorily. The system 
 of Gall is gaining ground rapidly among scientific 
 men, both in Europe and America. Some of the 
 ablest physiologists in both quarters of the globe 
 have admitted its accordance with nature; and, 
 at this moment, it boasts a greater number of 
 proselytes than at any previous period of its career. 
 The prejudices still existing against it, result from 
 ignorance of its real character. As people get 
 better acquainted with the science, and the formi- 
 
VIU PREFACE. 
 
 dable evidence by which it is supported, they will 
 think differently. 
 
 Many persons who deny the possibility of esti- 
 mating individual character, with any thing like 
 accuracy, by the shape of the head, admit the great 
 phrenological principle that the brain is composed 
 of a plurality of organs. To them, as well as to 
 those who go a step farther, the doctrine laid down 
 in the present work will appear satisfactory. An 
 admission that the brain is the material apparatus 
 by which the mind manifests itself, and that each 
 ntental faculty is displayed through the medium of 
 a particular part of the brain, is all that is de- 
 manded in considering the philosophy of the science. 
 These points are only to be ascertained by an ap- 
 j>eal to nature. No man can wisely reject phrenolotry 
 without making such an appeal. 
 
 A chapter on Spectral Illusions is now added, that 
 subject having been unaccountably overlooked in 
 the first Edition. 
 
ADVERTISEMENT TO THE THIRD EDITION. 
 
 The present Edition will, I trust, be found an im- 
 provement upon the previous one. In consequence 
 of the correction of a number of errors, which it is 
 difficult to avoid even in the most carefully elabo- 
 rated works, it lays claim to greater accuracy, and 
 has, besides, the advantage of containing a variety 
 of new illustrations, which it is hoped will elucidate 
 the subject more clearly. The work now contains 
 as good an account of Sleep as I am capable of 
 producing ; and it is not probable that any change 
 whatever will be made in future editions, supposing 
 it is fortunate enough to pass through them. 
 
 R. M. 
 
 2ith January, 1836. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Introduction, 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 Sleep in General 8 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 Dreaming-, 41 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 Prophetic Power of Dreams, 112 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 Night-Mare, 135 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 Day-Mare, 159 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 Sleep- Walking, .161 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 Sleep- Talking, . 181 
 
xu 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Sleeplessness, 
 
 
 . . .195 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 Drowsiness, 206 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 Protracted Sleep, 210 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Sleep from Cold, 217 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 Trance 22G 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 Voluntary Waking Dreams 238 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Spectral Illusions, 243 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 Reverie, 278 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 Abstraction, 286 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 Sleep of Plants 299 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 General Management of Sleep, 304 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Sleep is the intermediate state between wakeful- 
 ness and death : wakefulness being regarded as the 
 active state of all the animal and intellectual func- 
 tions, and death as that of their total suspension. 
 
 Sleep exists in two states ; in the complete and 
 incomplete. The former is characterized by a tor- 
 por of the various organs which compose the brain, 
 and by that of the external senses and voluntary 
 motion. Incomplete sleep, or dreaming, is the 
 active state of one or more of the cerebral organs, 
 while the remainder are in repose : the senses and 
 the volition being either suspended or in action 
 according to the circumstances of the case. Com- 
 plete sleep is a temporary metaphysical death, 
 
*2 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 though not an organic one — the heart and lungs 
 performing their offices with their accustomed regu- 
 larity under the control of the involuntary muscles. 
 
 Sleep is variously modified, as we shall fully 
 explain hereafter, by health and disease. The sleep 
 of health is full of tranquillity. In such a state we 
 remain for hours at a time in unbroken repose, 
 nature banqueting on its sweets, renewing its lost 
 energies, and laying in a fresh store for the suc- 
 ceeding day. This accomplished, slumber vanishes 
 like a vapour before the rising sun ; languor has 
 been succeeded by strengtii ; and all the faculties, 
 mental and corporeal, are recruited. In this de- 
 lightful state, man assimilates most with that in 
 wiiich Adam sprang from his Creator's hands, fresh, 
 buoyant, and vigorous ; rejoicing as a racer to run 
 his course, with all his appetencies of enjoyment 
 on edge, and all his feelings and faculties prepared 
 for exertion. 
 
 Reverse the picture, and we have the sleep of 
 disease. It is short, feverish, and unrefreshing, 
 disturbed by frightful or melancholy dreams. The 
 pulse is agitated, and, from nervous excitation, there 
 are frequent startings and twitchings of the muscles. 
 Night-mare presses like an incarnation of misery 
 upon the frame — imagination, distempered by its 
 
INTRODUCTION. 3 
 
 connexion with pliysical disorder, ranging along 
 the gloomy confines of terror, holding communica- 
 tion with hell and the grave, and throwing a dis- 
 colouring shade over human life. 
 
 Night is the time for sleep ; and assuredly the 
 hush of darkness as naturally courts to repose as 
 meridian splendour flashes on us the necessity of 
 our being up at our labour. In fact, there exists a 
 strange, but certain sympathy between the periods 
 of day and night, and the performance of particular 
 functions during these periods. That this is not 
 the mere effect of custom, might be readily demon- 
 strated. All nature awakes with the rising sun. 
 The birds begin to sing ; the bees to fly about with 
 murmurous delight. The flowers which shut under 
 the embrace of darkness, unfold themselves to the 
 light. The cattle arise to crop the dewy herbage ; 
 and "man goeth forth to his labour until the 
 evening." At close of day, the reverse of all this 
 activity and motion is observed. The songs of the 
 woodland choir, one after another, become hushed, 
 till at length twilight is left to silence, with her 
 own star and her falling dews. Action is succeeded 
 by listlessness, energy by languor, the desire of 
 exertion by the inclination for repose. Sleep, 
 which shuns the light, embraces darkness, and 
 
4 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 tliey lie down together under the sceptre of mid- 
 night. 
 
 From the position of man in society, toil or em- 
 ployment of some kind or other is an almost neces- 
 sary concomitant of his nature — being essenti.il to 
 healthy sleep, and consequently to the renovation 
 of our bodily organs and mental faculties. But as 
 no general rule can be laid down as to the quality 
 and quantity of labour best adapted to particular 
 temperaments, so neither can it he positively said 
 how many hours of sleep are necessary for the animal 
 frame. When the body is in a state of increase, as 
 in the advance from infancy to boyhood, so much 
 sleep is required, that the greater portion of exist- 
 ence may be fairly stated to be absorbed in this way. 
 It is not mere repose from action that is capable 
 of recruiting the wasted powers, or restoring the 
 nervous energy. Along with this is required that 
 oblivion of feeling and imagination which is essential 
 to, and which in a great measure constitutes, sleep. 
 But if in mature years the body is adding to its 
 bulk by the accumulation of adipose matter, a 
 greater tendency to somnolency occurs than when 
 tlie powers of the absorbents and exhalents are so 
 balanced as to prevent such accession of bulk. It 
 is during the complete equipoise of these animal 
 
INTRODUCTION. 5 
 
 functions that health is enjoyed in greatest perfec- 
 tion ; for such a state presupposes exercise, tem- 
 perance, and a tone of the stomach quite equal to 
 the process of digestion. 
 
 Sleep and stupor have been frequently treated of 
 by physiological writers as if the two states were 
 synonymous. This is not tlie case. In both there 
 is insensibility ; but it is easy to awake the person 
 from sleep, and difl&cult, if not impossible, to arouse 
 him from stupor. The former is a necessary law 
 of the animal economy ; the latter is tlie result of 
 diseased action. 
 
 Birth and death are the Alpha and Omega of 
 existence ; and life, to use the language of Shak- 
 speare, " is rounded by a sleep." 
 
 When we contemplate the human frame in a state 
 of vigour, an impression is made on the mind that it 
 is calculated to last for ever. One set of organs is 
 laying down particles, and another taking them up 
 with such exquisite nicety, that for the continual 
 momentary waste there is continual momentary 
 repair; and this is capable of going on with the 
 strictest equality for half a century. 
 
 What is life ? Those bodies are called living in 
 which an appropriation of foreign matter is going 
 on ; death is where this process is at an end. When 
 
b PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 Ave find blood in motion, the process of appropriation 
 is going on. The circulation is the surest sign of 
 life. Muscles retain irritability for an hour or two 
 after circulation ceases, but irritability is not life. 
 Death is owing to the absence of this process of 
 appropriation. 
 
 Bichat has divided life into two varieties, the 
 organic and the animal. The first is common to 
 both vegetables and animals, the last is peculiar to 
 animals alone. Organic life applies to the functions 
 Avhich nourish and sustain the object — animal life 
 to those which make it a sentient being ; which give 
 it thought, feeling, and motion, and bring it into 
 communication with the surrounding world. The 
 processes of assimilation and excretion exist both 
 in animals and vegetables : the other vital processes 
 are restricted solely to animals. The digestive 
 organs, the kidneys, the heart, and the lungs, are 
 the apparatus wliieh carry into effect the organic 
 life of animals. Those which manifest animal life 
 are the brain, the organs of the senses, and tiie 
 voluntary powers. Sleep is the suspension of animal 
 life; and during its continuance the creature is under 
 the influence of organic life alone. 
 
 Notwithstanding the renovating influence of sleep, 
 which apparently brings up the lost vigour of tlu' 
 
INTRODUCTION. 7 
 
 frame to a particular standard, there is a power in 
 animal life which leads it almost imperceptibly on 
 from infancy to second childhood, or that of old 
 age. This power sleep, however healthy, is incapable 
 of counteracting. The skin wrinkles, and every- 
 where shows marks of the ploughshare of Saturn ; 
 the adipose structure dissolves ; the bones become 
 brittle ; the teeth decay or drop out ; the eye loses 
 its exquisite sensibility to sight ; the ear to sound ; 
 and the hair is bleached to whiteness. These are 
 accompanied with a general decay of the intellec- 
 tual faculties ; there is a loss of memory, and less 
 sensibility to emotion ; the iris hues of fancy subside 
 to twilight; and the sphere of thought and action is 
 narrowed. The principle of decay is implanted in our 
 nature, and cannot be counteracted. Few people, 
 however, die of mere decay, for death is generally 
 accelerated by disease. From sleep we awake to 
 exertion — from death not at all, at least on this side 
 of time.\ Methuselah in ancient, and Thomas Parr in 
 modern times ate well, digested well, and slept well ; 
 but at length they each died. Death is omnivorous. 
 The worm which crawls on the highway and the 
 monarch on his couch of state, are alike subjected 
 to the same stern and inexorable law; they alike 
 become the victims of the universal tyrant, "j 
 
PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 SLEEP IN GENERAL. 
 
 Every animal passes some portion of its time in 
 sleep. This is a rule to which there is no ex- 
 ception; altliouj^h the kind of slumber and the 
 degree of profoundness in which it exists in the 
 different classes are ext/*emely various. Some phy- 
 siologists lay it down as a general rule, that the 
 larger the brain of an animal the greater is the 
 necessity for a considerable proportion of sleep. 
 This, however, I suspect is not borne out by facts. 
 Man, for instance, and some birds, such as the 
 sparrow, have the largest brains in proportion to 
 their size, and yet it is probable tiiat they do not 
 sleep so much as some other animals with much 
 smaller brains. The serpent tribe, unless when 
 
SLEEP IN GENERAL. 9 
 
 Stimulated by hunger, (in which case they will 
 remain awake for days at a time waiting for their 
 prey,) sleep much more than men or birds, and yet 
 their brains are, proportionally, greatly inferior in 
 size : the boa, after dining on a stag or goat, will 
 continue in profound sleep forseveral days. Fishes,* 
 indeed, whose brains are small, require little sleep ; 
 but the same remark applies to birds,f which have 
 large brains, and whose slumber is neither profound 
 nor of long continuance. The assertion, therefore, 
 that the quantum of sleep has any reference to the 
 size of the brain may be safely looked upon as un- 
 founded. That it has reference to the quality of the 
 brain is more likely, for we find that carnivorous 
 
 * As a proof that lish^'S sleep, Aristotle, ^Yho seems to have 
 paid moi'e attention to their habits than any modern author, 
 states, that while in this condition they remain motionless, with 
 the exception of a gentle movement of the tail — that they may 
 then be readily taken by the hand, and that, if suddenly touched, 
 they instantly start. The tunny, he adds, are surprised and 
 surrounded by nets while asleep, which is known by their 
 showing the white of their eyes. 
 
 f The sleep of some birds is amazingly light. Such is the 
 case with the goose, which is disturbed by the slightest noise, and 
 more useful than any watch-dog for giving warning of danger. 
 It was the cackling of the sacred geese that saved the capitol 
 of Rome from the soldiers of Brennus, when the watch-dogs 
 failed to discover the approach of the enemy. 
 
 B 2 
 
10 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 aaimals sleep more than such as are herbivorous ; 
 and it is probable that the texture, as well as form, of 
 the brains of these two classes is materially different. 
 This remark, with regard to the causes of the vari- 
 ous proportions of sleep required by the carni- 
 vorous and herbivorous tribes, I throw out not 
 as a matter of certainty, but merely as a surmise 
 which seems to have considerable foundation in 
 truth. 
 
 In proportion as man exceeds all other animals in 
 the excellency of his physical org.inization, and in 
 intellectual capability, we shall find that in him the 
 various phenomena of sleep are exhibited in greater 
 regularity and perfection. Sleep seems more indis- 
 pensably requisite to man than to any other crea- 
 ture, if tliere can be supposed to exist any difference 
 where its indispensability is universal, and wliere 
 every animal must, in some degree or other, par- 
 t<ike of it ; but, as regards man, it is certain that he 
 sustains any violation of the law ordaining regular 
 periods of repose with less indifference than the 
 lower grades of creation — that a certain proportion 
 of sleep is more essential to his existence than theirs 
 — that he has less power of enduring protracted 
 wakefulness, or continuing in protracted sleep — 
 and that he is more refresiied by repose and more 
 
SLEEP IN GENERAL. 11 
 
 exliausted by the want of it than tliey. The sleep 
 of man, therefore, becomes a subject of deeper inter- 
 est and curiosity than that of any other animal, 
 both on account of the more diversified manner in 
 which it displays itself, and the superior oppor- 
 tunity which exists of ascertaining the various 
 phenomena, which in the inferior animals can only 
 be conjectured or darkly guessed at. 
 
 Sleep, being a natural process, takes place in 
 general without any very apparent cause. It be- 
 comes, as it were, a habit, into which we insensibly 
 fall at stated periods, as we fall into other natural or 
 acquired habits. But it differs from the latter in 
 this, that it cannot in any case be entirely dispensed 
 with, although by custom we may bring ourselves to 
 do with a much smaller portion than we are usually 
 in the practice of indulging in. In this respect it 
 bears a strong analogy to the appetite for food or 
 drink. It has a natural tendency to recur every 
 twenty-four hours, and the periods of its accession 
 coincide with the return of night. 
 
 But though sleep becomes a habit into which we 
 Avould naturally drop without any obvious, or very 
 easily discovered cause, still we can often trace the 
 origin of our slumbers ; and we are all acquainted 
 with many circumstances which either produce or 
 
12 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 heighten them. I shall mention a few of these 
 causes. 
 
 Heat has a strong tendency to produce sleep. We 
 often witness this in the summer season, sometimes 
 in the open air, but more frequently at home, and, 
 above all, in a crowded meeting. In the latter case, 
 the soporific tendency is greatly increased by the 
 impurity of the air. A vitiated atmosphere is 
 strongly narcotic, and, when combined with heat 
 and monotony, is apt to induce slumber, not less 
 remarkable for the rapidity of its accession than its 
 overpowering character. In such a situation, the 
 mind in a few minutes ceases to act, and sinks 
 into a state of overpowering oblivion. The slum- 
 ber, however, not being a natural one, and seldom 
 occurring at the usual period, is generally short : 
 it rarely exceeds an hour; and wlien the person 
 awakes from it, so far from being refreshed, he is 
 usually dull, thirsty, and feverish, and finds more 
 than common difficulty in getting his menttil powers 
 into their usual state of activity. 
 
 A heated churcli and a dull sermon are almost 
 sure to provoke sleep. Tliere are few men whose 
 powers are equal to the task of opposing the joint 
 operation of two such potent influences. They act 
 on the spirit like narcotics, and the person seems as 
 
SLEEP IN GENERAL. 13 
 
 if involved in a cloud of aconite or belladonna. The 
 heat of the church might be resisted, but the sermon 
 is irresistible. Its monotony falls in leaden accents 
 upon the ear, and soon subdues the most, powerful 
 attention. Variety, Avhether of sight or sound, 
 prevents sleep, while monotony of all kinds is apt 
 to induce it. The murmuring of a river, the sound 
 of the Eolian harp, the echo of a distant cascade, 
 the ticking of a clock, the hum of bees under a 
 burning sun, and the pealing of a remote bell, all 
 exercise the same influence. So conscious was 
 Boerhaave of the power of monotony, that in 
 order to procure sleep for a patient, he directed 
 water to be placed in such a situation as to drop 
 continually on a brass pan. VYhen there is no ex- 
 citement, sleep is sure to follow. We are all kept 
 awake by some mental or bodily stimulus, and 
 when that is removed our wakefulness is at an end. 
 Want of stimulus, especially in a heated atmo- 
 sphere, produces powerful effects ; but where suf- 
 ficient stimulus exists, we overcome the effects of 
 the heat, and keep awake in spite of it. Thus, in 
 a crowded church, where a dull, inanimate preacher 
 would throw the congregation into a deep slumber, 
 such a man as Masillon, or Chalmers, would keep 
 them in a state of keen excitement. He would 
 
14 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 arrest their attention, and counteract whatever 
 tendency to sleep would otherwise have existed. 
 In like manner, a prosing, monotonous, long-winded 
 acquaintance is apt to make us dose, while another 
 of a lively, energetic conversation keeps us brisk 
 and awake. It will generally be found that the 
 reasoning faculties are those which are soonest 
 prostrated by slumber, and the imaginative the 
 least so. A person would more readily fall asleep 
 if listening to a profound piece of argumentation, 
 than to a humorous or fanciful story; and probably 
 more have slumbered over the pages of Bacon and 
 Locke, than over those of Shakspeare and Milton. 
 Cold produces sleep as well as heat, but to do so 
 a very low temperature is necessary, i)articularly 
 with regard to the human race ; for, when cold is 
 not excessive, it prevents instead of occasioning 
 slumber : in illustration of which, I may mention 
 the case of several unfortunate women, who lived 
 thirty-four days in a sm.ill room overwhelmed with 
 the snow, and who scarcely slept during the whole 
 of that period. In very northern and southern 
 latitudes, persons often lose their lives by lying 
 <lown in a state of drowsiness occasioned by intense 
 cold. The winter sleep or hybernation of animals 
 arises from cold ; but as this species of slumber is 
 
SLEEP IN GENERAL. 15 
 
 of a very peculiar description, I have discussed it 
 separately in another part of the work. 
 
 The finished gratification of all ardent desires 
 has the eflFect of inducing slumber : hence, after any 
 keen excitement, the mind becomes exhausted, and 
 speedily relapses into this state. Attention to a 
 single sensation has the same eff*ect. This has been 
 exemplified in the case of all kinds of monotony, 
 where there is a want of variety to stimulate the 
 ideas, and keep them on the alert. " If the mind," 
 says CuUen, " is attached to a single sensation, it 
 is brought very nearly to the state of the total 
 absence of impression ;" or, in other words, to the 
 state most closely bordering upon sleep. Remove 
 those stimuli which keep it employed, and sleep 
 ensues at any time. 
 
 Any thing which mechanically determines the 
 blood to the brain, acts in a similar manner, such as 
 whirling round for a great length of time, ascending 
 a lofty mountain, or swinging to and fro. The first 
 and last of these actions give rise to much giddi- 
 ness, followed by intense slumber, and at last by 
 death, if they be continued very long. By lying flat 
 upon a millstone while performing its evolutions, 
 sleep is soon produced, and death, without pain, 
 would be the result, if the experiment were greatly 
 
16 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 protracted. Apoplexy, wliicli consists of a turgid 
 state of the cerebral vessels, produces perhaps the 
 most complete sleep that is known, in so far that, 
 while it continues, it is utterly impossible to waken 
 the individual : no stimulus, however powerful, lias 
 any influence in arousing his dormant faculties. 
 When the circulating mass in the brain is diminish- 
 ed beyond a certain extent, it has the same eflPect 
 as the opposite state ; whence excessive loss of 
 blood excites sleep. 
 
 Opium, hyoscyamus, aconite, belladonna, and the 
 whole tribe of narcotics, induce sleep, by a specific 
 power which they exert upon the brain, through 
 the medium of the nerves of the stomach, and 
 sometimes by inducing an apoplectic state. The 
 former effect is occasioned by a moderate — the 
 latter by an over dose. 
 
 A heavy meal, especially if the st<unach is at the 
 saine time weak, is apt to induce sleep. In ordi- 
 nary circumstances, the nervous energy or sensorial 
 power of this viscus is suthcient to carry on its 
 functions, but when an excess of food is thrown 
 upon it, it is then unable to furnish, from its own 
 resources, the powers recjuisite for digest i(UK In 
 such a case it draws upon the whole body — up(»n 
 the chest, the limbs, &c., from whence it is sup- 
 
SLEEP IN GENERAL. 17 
 
 plied with the sensorial power of which it is defi- 
 cient ; and is thus enabled to perform that which 
 by its own unassisted means it never could have 
 accomplished. But mark the consequences of such 
 accommodation ! Those parts, by communicating 
 vigour to the stomach, become themselves debili- 
 tated in a corresponding ratio, and get into a state 
 analogous to that from which they had extricated 
 this viscus. The extremities become cold, the re- 
 spiration heavy and stertorous, and the brain torpid. 
 In consequence of the torpor of the brain, sleep 
 ensues. It had parted with that portion of sensorial 
 energy which kept it awake, and by supplying 
 another organ is itself thrown into the state of 
 sleep. It is a curious fact, that the feeling of sleep 
 is most strong while the food remains on the 
 stomach, shortly after the accession of the digestive 
 process, and before that operation which converts 
 the nourishment into chyle has taken place.* 
 
 When, therefore, the sensorial power is suffi- 
 ciently exhausted, we naturally fall asleep. As this 
 
 * Mr. A. Carmichael, of Dublin, supposes that the process of 
 assimilation in the brain is the proximate cause of sleep. For 
 an exposition of his views, which are both novel and ingenious, 
 see his Memoir of Spurzheim ; and also the 42d and iiih Nos. 
 of the Phrenological Journal. 
 
18 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 exhaustion, however, is a gradual process, so is that 
 of slumber. Previous to its accession, a feeling of 
 universal lassitude prevails, and exhibits itself in 
 yawning,* peevishness, heaviness, and weakness of 
 the eyes ; indifference to surrounding objects, and 
 all the characteristics of fatigue. If the person be 
 seated, his head nods and droops : the muscles be- 
 come relaxed; and, when circumstances admit of it, 
 the limbs are tlirown into tlie recumbent position, 
 or that most favourable for complete inaction. The 
 senses then become unconscious of impressions, and, 
 one after the otlier, part witli sensation; tlie sight 
 first, then t.iste, smell, hearing, and touch, all in 
 regular order. The brain does not all at once 
 glide into repose : its different organs being succes- 
 sively thrown into this state; one dropping asleep^ 
 then another, then a third, till the whole are locked 
 up in tlie fetters of slumber. This gradual process 
 of intellectual obliteration is a sort of confused 
 
 * We yawn before falling asleep and when we wake ; yawn- 
 ing, thereft»re, precedes and follows sleep. It seems an effort 
 of nature to restore the just equilibrium between the Hexor and 
 extensor muscles. The former have a natural predominancy in 
 the system ; and on their being fatigued, we, by an effort of the 
 will, or rather by a species of instinct, put the latter intoa<*ti«Mi 
 for the purpose of redressing the balance, and |M>ising the re- 
 
SLEEP IN GENERAL. 19 
 
 dream — a mild delirium which always precedes 
 sleep. The ideas have no resting-place, but float 
 about in the confused tabernacle of the mind, giving 
 rise to images of the most perplexing description. 
 In this state they continue for some time, until, 
 as sleep becomes more profound, the brain is left 
 to thorough repose, and they disappear altogether. 
 
 Sleep produces rather important changes in the 
 system. The rapidity of the circulation is dimin- 
 ished, and, as a natural consequence, that of respi- 
 ration : the force of neither function, however, is 
 impaired ; but, on the contrary, rather increased. 
 Vascular action is diminished in the brain and organs 
 of volition, while digestion and absorption all pro- 
 ceed with increased energy. The truth of most of 
 these propositions it is not difficult to establish. 
 
 The diminished quickness of the circulation is 
 shown in the pulse, which is slower and fuller than 
 in the waking state; that of respiration in the more 
 deliberate breathing which accompanies sleep. Di- 
 minished action of the brain is evident from the 
 
 spective muscular powers. We do the same thing on awaking, 
 or even on getting up from a recumbent posture — the flexors 
 in such circumstances having prevailed over the extensors, 
 which were in a great measure inert. 
 
20 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 abolition of its functions; as well as direct evidence.* 
 A case is related by Blumenbach, of a person who 
 had been trepanned, and whose brain was observed 
 to sink when he was asleep, and swell out when he 
 was awake. As for the lessened vascular action in 
 the voluntary powers, this is rendered obvious by 
 the lower temperature on the surface which takes 
 place during the slumbering state. Moreover, in 
 low typhus, cynanche maligna, and other affections 
 attended with a putrid diathesis, the petechise 
 usually appear during sleep when the general cir- 
 culation is least vigorous, while the paroxysms of 
 reaction or delirium take place, for the most part, 
 in the morning when it is in greater strength and 
 activity. 
 
 In some individuals the stronger and more labor- 
 ious respiration of sleep is made manifest by that 
 stertorous sound commonly denominated snoring. 
 Stout apoplectii! people — those who snuff much or 
 sleep with tiieir mouths open, are most given to 
 this habit. It seems to arise principally from the 
 force with which tlie air is drawn into the lungs in 
 
 • Too much sleep, however, is accomjKiiiii'il «ith vimuhis con- 
 gestion in the hrain, as is manil't'st from the licadaoh \vlii( h wt 
 experience on awaking. 
 
SL'EEP IN GENERAL. 21 
 
 sleep. The respiratory muscles being less easily- 
 excited during this state do not act so readily, and 
 the air is consequently admitted into the chest with 
 some degree of effort. This, combined with the 
 relaxed state of the fauces, give rise to the ster- 
 torous noise. Snuffing, by obstructing the nasal 
 passages, and thus rendering breathing more diffi- 
 cult, has the same effect ; consequently snuffers are 
 very often great snorers. The less rapidly the 
 blood is propelled through the lungs, the slower is 
 the respiration, and the louder the stertor becomes. 
 Apoplexy, by impairing the sensibility of the respi- 
 ratory organs, and thus reducing the frequency of 
 breathing, produces snoring to a great extent ; and 
 all cerebral congestions have, to a greater or lesser 
 degree, the same effect. 
 
 That sleep increases absorption is shown in the 
 disappearance or diminution of many swellings, 
 especially oedema of the extremities, which often 
 disappears in the night, and recurs in the daytime, 
 even when the patient keeps his bed, a proof that 
 its disappearance does not always depend on the 
 position of the body : that it increases digestion, 
 and, as a natural consequence, nutrition, is rendered 
 probable by many circumstances: hence it is the 
 period in which the regeneration of the body chiefly 
 
22 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 takes place. Were there even no augmentation 
 given to the assimilative function, as is maintained 
 by Broussais and some other physiologists, it is 
 clear that the body would be more thoroughly 
 nourished than when awake, for all those actions 
 which exhaust it in the latter condition are qui- 
 escent, and it remains in a state of rest, silently 
 accumulating power without expending any. 
 
 Sleep lessens all the secretions, with one excep- 
 tion — that of the skin. Tl»e urinary, salivary, and 
 bronchial discharges, the secretions from the nose, 
 eyes, and ears, are all forced less copiously than 
 in the waking state. The same rule holds with 
 regard to other secretions — hence diarrha-a, me- 
 norrhagia, t*lc., are checked during tlie interval of 
 slumber. 
 
 From the diminished vascular action going on 
 upon the surface we would bo aj)t to expect a 
 decrease of perspiration, but the reverse is the case. 
 Sleep relaxes the cutaneous vessels, and they secrete 
 more copiously than in the waking state. Accord- 
 ing to Sanctorius, a person sleeping some hours 
 undisturbed will perspire insensibly twice as much 
 as one awake. This tendency of sleep to produce 
 perspiration is strikingly exhibited in diseases of 
 debility; whence the nocturnal sweats so prevailing 
 
SLEEP IN GENERAL. 23 
 
 and so destructive in all cachectic affections. Sanc- 
 torius farther states, that the insensible perspira- 
 tion is not only more abundant, but less acrimo- 
 nious during sleep than in the waking state; that, 
 if diminished during the day, the succeeding sleep 
 is disturbed and broken, and that the diminution in 
 consequence of too short a sleep disposes to fever, 
 unless the equilibrium is established on the follow- 
 ing day by a more copious perspiration. 
 
 Sleep produces peculiar effects upon the organs 
 of vision. A priori, we might expect that, during 
 this state, the pupil would be largely dilated in con- 
 sequence of the light being shut out. On opening 
 the eyelids cautiously it is seen to be contracted ; 
 it then quivers with an irregular motion as if 
 disposed to dilate, but at length ceases to move, 
 and remains in a contracted state till the person 
 awakes. This fact I have often verified by in- 
 specting the eyes of children. Sleep also communi- 
 cates to these organs a, great accession of sensibility, 
 so much so, that they are extremely dazzled by a 
 clear light. This, it is true, happens on coming 
 out of a dark into a light room, or opening our eyes 
 upon the sunshine even when we are awake, but the 
 effect is much stronger when we have previously 
 been in deep slumber. 
 
24 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 Sleep may be natural or diseased — the former 
 arising from such causes as exhaust the sensorial 
 power, such as fatigue, pain, or protracted anxiety 
 of mind; the latter from cerebral congestion, such as 
 apoplexy, or plethora. The great distinction be- 
 tween these varieties is, that the one can be broken 
 by moderate stimuli, while the other requires either 
 excessive stimuli or the removal of the particular 
 cause which gave rise to it. 
 
 Daring complete sleep, no sensation whatever is 
 experienced by the individual : he neither feels pain, 
 liunger, thirst, nor the ordinary desires of nature. 
 He may be awakened to a sense of such feelings, 
 but during perfect repose he has no consciousness 
 Avhatever of their existence — if they can indeed be 
 said to exist where tliey are not felt. For the 
 same reason, we may touch him without his feeling 
 it ; neither is lie sensible to sounds, to light, or to 
 odours. When, however, the slumber is not very 
 profound, he may hear music or conversation, and 
 have a sense of pain, hunger, and thirst ; and, 
 although not awakened by such circumstances, 
 may recollect them afterwards. These impressions, 
 taught by the senses, often give rise to the most 
 extraordinary mental combinations, and form the 
 groundwork of the most elaborate dreams. 
 
SLEEP IN GENERAL. 25 
 
 I am of opinion that we rarely pass the whole of 
 any one night in a state of perfect slumber. My 
 reason for this supposition is, that we very seldom 
 remain during the whole of that period in the posi- 
 tion in which we fall asleep. This change of pos- 
 ture must have been occasioned by some emotion, 
 however obscure, affecting the mind, and through 
 it the organs of volition, whereas in complete sleep 
 we experience no emotion whatever. 
 
 The position usually assumed in sleep has been 
 mentioned ; but sleep may ensue in any posture of 
 the body ; persons fall asleep on horseback, and 
 continue riding in this state for a long time without 
 being awakened. Horses sometimes sleep for hours 
 in the standing posture ; and the circumstance of 
 somnambulism shows that the same thing may occur 
 in the human race. 
 
 Some animals, such as the hare, sleep with their 
 eyes open ; and I have known similar instances in 
 the human subject. But the organ is dead to the 
 ordinary stimulus of light, and sees no more than if 
 completely shut. 
 
 Animals which prey by night, such as the cat, 
 
 hyena, &c.,pass the greater part of their time in sleep ; 
 
 while those that do not, continue longer awake than 
 
 asleep. The latter slumber part of the night and 
 
 c 
 
26 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 continue awake so long as the sun continues above 
 the horizon. The propensity of the former to sleep 
 in the daytime seems to proceed from the structure 
 of their eyes ; as they see better in moderate dark- 
 ness than in a clear light, and consequently pass in 
 slumber that period in which their vision is of least 
 avail to them. It is a very curious fact, however, 
 that these animals, when kept in captivity, reverse 
 the order of their nature, and remain awake by day 
 while they sleep by night. This fact has been 
 ascertained in the menagerie at Paris. In such cases 
 I apprehend that some corresponding change must 
 take place in the structure of the eyes, assimilating 
 them to those of animals which naturally sleep by 
 night. 
 
 M. Castel observes,* that the greater part of 
 animals sleep longer in winter than in summer. It 
 is precisely on account of perspiration that in the first 
 of these seasons sleep is more necessary than in tlie 
 second. In winter, the want of perspiration during 
 day is furnished in sleep ; in summer, the diurnal 
 sweat supplies that of the night, and renders much 
 sleep less necessary. In other words, during sum- 
 mer the perspiration is so much excited by atmo- 
 
 • '' Journal Coinpl»5raetitaire.** 
 
SLEEP IN GENERAL. 27 
 
 spheric temperature, that a shorter time is sufficient 
 to give issue to the fluids which have to be expelled 
 by this means. For the same reason, the inhabi- 
 tants of very cold climates sleep more than those 
 who live in the warmer latitudes. 
 
 The profoundness of sleep differs greatly in dif- 
 ferent individuals. The repose of some is extremely 
 deep ; that of others quite the reverse. One will 
 scarcely obey the roar of a cannon; another will 
 start at the chirping of a cricket or the faintest "^ 
 dazzling of the moonbeams. Heavy-minded, phleg- 
 matic people generally belong to the former class ; 
 the irritable, the nervous, and the hypochondriac to 
 the latter, although we shall at times find the cases 
 reversed with regard to the nature of sleep enjoyed 
 by these different temperaments. Man is almost 
 the only animal in whom much variety is to be found 
 in this respect. The lower grades are distinguished 
 by a certain character, so far as their slumber is 
 concerned, and this character runs through the 
 whole race: thus, all hares, cats, &c., are light 
 sleepers ; all bears, turtles, badgers, &c., are the 
 reverse. In man, the varieties are infinite. Much 
 of this depends upon the age and temperament of 
 the individual, and much upon custom. 
 
 The profoundness of sleep differs also during tlie 
 
28 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 same night. For the first four or fire hours, the 
 slumber is much heavier than towards morning. 
 The cause of such diflFerence is obvious ; for we go 
 to bed exhausted by previous fatigue, and conse- 
 quently enjoy sound repose, but, in the course of a 
 few hours, the necessity for this gradually abates, 
 and the slumber naturally becomes lighter. 
 
 That sleep from which we are easily roused is the 
 liealthiest: very profound slumber partakes of tlie 
 nature of apoplexy. 
 
 On being suddeidy awakened from a profound 
 sleep our idc^as are exceedingly confused ; and it is 
 some time before we can be made to comprehend 
 what is said to us. For some moments, we neither 
 see, nor hear, nor think with our usual distinctness, 
 and are, in fact, in a state of temporary reverie. 
 
 When there is a necessity for our cr<'tting up at 
 a certain hour, the anxiety of mind thus produced 
 not only prevents the sleep from being very pro- 
 found, but retards its accession ; and even after it 
 does take place, we very seldom oversleep ourselves, 
 and are almost sure to be awiike at, or before, tlie 
 slipnlated time. 
 
 Sliortly after falling a>leep, we often awake with 
 a sudden start, having the mind filled with painful 
 impressions: although we oftrn find it impossible to 
 
SLEEP IN GENERAL. 09 
 
 say to what subject they refer. Some persons do this 
 regularly every night, and there can be no doub* 
 that it proceeds from the mind being tortured by 
 some distressing vision ; which, however, has faded 
 away without leaving behind it any feeling, save 
 one of undefinable melancholy. There are some 
 persons who are sure to be aroused in this startling 
 and painful manner if they happen to fall asleep in 
 the position in which they at first lay down, who 
 nevertheless escape if they turn themselves once or 
 twice before falling into repose. This fact we 
 must take as we find it; any explanation as to its 
 proximate cause seems quite impracticable. 
 
 Disease exercises a powerful influence upon sleep. 
 All affections attended with acute pain prevent it, 
 in consequence of the violent excitement of the 
 nervous system. This is especially the case where 
 there is much active determination of blood to the 
 head, as in phrenetic affections, and fevers in general. 
 
 Sleep is always much disturbed in hydrothorax ; 
 and almost every disease affects it, more or less ; 
 some preventing it altogether, some limiting the 
 natural proportion, some inducing fearful dreams, 
 and all acting with a power proportioned to the 
 direct or indirect influence which they exercise 
 upon the sensorium. 
 
30 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 During sleep the system is peculiarly apt to be 
 acted upon by all external impressions, especially 
 cold ; and those who fall asleep exposed to a current 
 of air are far more likely to feel the bad conse- 
 quences thereof, than if they were broad awake. 
 This may be accounted for from the fact that the 
 brain being dormant, the system is ill supplied with 
 nervous energy during sleep, and is consequently 
 less able to resist cold than when the supply is 
 energetic. During wakefulness, it is found that a 
 depressed condition of the mind gives a suscepti- 
 bility to suffer from external influences, such as 
 cold, contagion, miasma, tScc. ; and this I explain by 
 supposing tliat, under mental depression, the brain 
 sends forth sensorial power deficient in quantity, or 
 quality, or both. In the opposite states of drunken- 
 ness, or maniacal excitement, where the nervous 
 energy is excessive, external influences are better 
 withstood than at any other time. 
 
 Sleep is much modified by habit. Thu?, an old 
 artillery-man (»ften enjoys tranquil repose, while the 
 cannon are thundering around l)iin ; an engineer has 
 been known to fall a-^leep wit!»in a boih^r, while his 
 fellows were beating it on the outside with their 
 ponderous hammers ; and the repose of a miller is 
 nowise incommoded bv tlie noise of iiis mill. 
 
SLEEP IN GENERAL. 31 
 
 Souud ceases to be a stimulus to such men, and 
 
 what would have proved an inexpressible annoyance 
 
 to others, is by tliem altogether unheeded. It is 
 
 common for carriers to sleep on horseback, and 
 
 coachmen on their coaches. During the battle of 
 
 the Nile, some boys were so exhausted, that they 
 
 fell asleep on the deck amid the deafening thunder 
 
 of that dreadful engagement. Nay, silence itself 
 
 may become a stimulus, while sound ceases to be so. 
 
 Thus, a miller being very ill, his mill was stopped 
 
 that he might not be disturbed by its noise; but this, 
 
 so far from inducing sleep, prevented it altogether ; ■■^•' 
 
 and it did not take place till the mill was set a-going 
 
 again. For the same reason, tlie manager of some 
 
 Yast iron-works, who slept close to them amid the 
 
 incessant din of hammers, forges, and blast furnaces, 
 
 would awake if there was any cessation of the noise 
 
 during the night. To carry the illustration still 
 
 farther, it has been noticed, that a person who 
 
 falls asleep near a church, the bell of which is 
 
 ringing, may hear the sound during the whole 
 
 of his slumber, and be nevertheless aroused by 
 
 its sudden cessation. Here the sleep must have 
 
 been imperfect, otherwise he would have been 
 
 insensible to the sound : the noise of the bell was 
 
 no stimulus ; it was its cessation which, by break- 
 
32 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 ing- the monotony, became so, and caused the 
 sleeper to awake. 
 
 The effects of habit may be illustrated in various 
 ways. " If a person, for instance, is accustomed to 
 go to rest exactly at nine o'clock in the evening, and 
 to rise again at six in the morning, though the time 
 of going to sleep be occasionally protracted till 
 twelve, he will yet awake at his usual hour of six ; 
 or, if his sleep be continued by darkness, quietude, 
 or other causes, till the day be farther advanced, 
 the desire of sleep will return in the evening at 
 nine." 
 
 Persons who are much in the habit of having- 
 their repose broken, seldom sleep either long or 
 profoundly, however much tliey may be left undis- 
 turbed. This is shown in the cases of soldiers and 
 seamen, nurses, mothers, and keepers. 
 
 Seamen and soldiers on duty can, from habit, 
 sleep when they will, and wake when they will. 
 The Emperor Napoleon was a striking instance 
 of this fact. Captain Barclay, when performing 
 his extraordinary feat of walking a mile an hour 
 for a thousand successive hours, obtained at last 
 such a mastery over himself, that he fell asleep the 
 instant he lay down. Some persons cannot sleep 
 from home, or on a different bed from their usual 
 
SLEEP IN GENERAL. 33 
 
 one : some cannot sleep on a hard, others on a soft 
 bed. A low pillow prevents sleep in some, a higli 
 one in others. The faculty of remaining asleep 
 for a great length of time, is possessed by some 
 individuals. Such was the case with Quin, the 
 celebrated player, who could slumber for twenty- 
 four hours successively — with Elizabeth Orvan, 
 who spent three-fourths of her life in sleep — with 
 Elizabeth Perkins, who slept for a week or a 
 fortnight at a time — with Mary Lyall, who did 
 the same for six successive weeks — and with many 
 others, more or less remarkable. In Bowyer's life 
 of Beattie, a curious anecdote is related of Dr. Reid, 
 viz., that he could take as much food and immedi- 
 ately afterwards as much sleep as were suflBcient for 
 two days. 
 
 A phenomenon of an opposite character is also 
 sometimes observed, for there are individuals who 
 can subsist upon a surprisingly small portion of 
 sleep. The celebrated General Elliot was an in- 
 stance of this kind : he never slept more than four 
 hours out of the twenty-four. In all other respects 
 he was strikingly abstinent ; his food consisting 
 wholly of bread, water, and vegetables. In a letter 
 communicated to Sir John Sinclair, by John Gor- 
 don, Esq. of Swiney, Caithness, mention is made of 
 
S4 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 a person, named James Mackay, of Skerray, who 
 died in Strathnaver in the year 1797, aged ninety- 
 one : he only slept, on an average, four hours in 
 the twenty-four, and was a remarkably robust and 
 healthy man. Frederick the Great, of Prussia, and 
 the illustrious surgeon, John Hunter, only slept five 
 hours in the same period; and the sleep of the 
 active-minded is always much less than that of the 
 listless and indolent. The celebrated French General 
 Pichegru informed Sir Gilbert Blane, that during 
 a whole year's campaigns, he had not above one 
 hour's sleep in the twenty-four. I know a lady 
 who never sleeps above half an liour at a time, and 
 the whole period of whose sleep does not exceed 
 three or four hours in the twenty-four ; and yet 
 she is in the enjoyment of excellent health. Gooch 
 gives an instance of a man, who slept only fur 
 fifteen minutes out of the twenty-four hours, and 
 even this was only a kind of dozing, and not a 
 perfect sleep : notwithstanding which, he enjoyed 
 good health, and reached his seventy-third year. I 
 strongly suspect there must be some mistake in this 
 case, for it is not conceivable tliat liunian nature 
 could subsist upon sucli a limited portion of repose. 
 Instances have been related of persons who never 
 slept; but these must be regarded as j)uiH'ly fabulous. 
 
SLEEP IN GENERAL. 85 
 
 The time of life modifies sleep materially. 
 When a man is about his grand climacteric, or a 
 few years beyond it, he slumbers less than at any 
 former period ; but very young children always 
 sleep away the most of their time. At this early 
 age, the texture of the brain being imperfect 
 and pulpy, the organ cannot work for a long 
 time continuously, and requires greater relaxation 
 or sleep than afterwards, when its firmness and 
 consistency are increased. For the first two or 
 three years, children sleep more than once in the 
 twenty-four hours. The state of the fcetus has 
 been denominated, by some writers, a continued 
 sleep, but the propriety of this definition may be 
 doubted ; for the mind having never yet manifested 
 itself, and the voluntary organs never having been 
 exercised, can hardly be said to exist in slumber, a 
 condition which supposes a previous waking state 
 of the functions. Middle-aged persons who lead 
 an active life, seldom sleep above eight or nine 
 hours in the twenty-four, however much longer 
 they may lie in bed ; while a rich, lazy and gor- 
 mandizing citizen will sleep twelve or thirteen 
 hours at a time. 
 
 Sleep is greatly modified in old people. They 
 usually slumber little, and not at all profoundly. 
 
36 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 Sometimes^ however, when they get into a state of 
 dotage, in consequence of extreme old age, the 
 phenomena of childhood once more appear, and 
 they pass the greater part of their time in sleep. 
 The repose of the aged is most apt to take place 
 immediately after taking food, while they often 
 solicit it in vain at that period at which, during 
 the former years of their lives, they had been ac- 
 customed to enjoy it. The celebrated De Moivre 
 slept twenty hours out of the twenly-four, and 
 Thomas Parr latterly slept away by far the greater 
 part of his existence. 
 
 Those who eat heartily, and have strong digestive 
 powers, usually sleep much. This takes place be- 
 cause the sensorial power is consumed by the 
 stomach, to the starvation, as it were, of the brain, 
 which is thus thrown into a state of sleep. The 
 great portion of sleep required by iufants is owing, 
 in part, to tlie prodigious activity of tneir digestive 
 powers. The majority of animals sleep after eating, 
 and man has a strong tendency to do the same 
 tiling, especially when oppressed with lieat. In 
 the summer season, a strong inclination is often 
 felt to sleep after dinner, when tlie weather is very 
 warm. 
 
 A heavy meal, which produces no uneasy feeling 
 
SLEEP IN GENERAL. 37 
 
 while the person is awake, will often do so if he 
 fall asleep. According to Dr. Darwin, this pro- 
 ceeds from the sensorial actions being increased, 
 when the volition is suspended. The digestion 
 from this circumstance goes on with increased ra- 
 pidity. " Heat is produced in the system faster than 
 it is expended ; and, operating on the sensitive ac- 
 tions, carries them beyond the limitations of pleasure, 
 producing, as is common in such cases, increased 
 frequency of pulse." In this case, incomplete sleep 
 is supposed, for, when the slumber is perfect, no 
 sensation whatever, either painful or the reverse, 
 can be experienced. 
 
 In recovering from long protracted illnesses, ac- 
 companied with great Avant of rest, we generally 
 sleep much — far more, indeed, than during the 
 most perfect health. This seems to be a provision 
 of nature for restoring the vigour which had been 
 lost during disease, and bringing back the body to 
 its former state. So completely does this appear to 
 be the case, that as soon as a thorough restoration 
 to health takes place, the portion of sleep dimin- 
 ishes till it is brought to the standard at which it 
 originally stood before the accession of illness. 
 
 After continuing a certain time asleep, we awake, 
 stretch ourselves, open our eyes, rub them, and 
 
38 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 yawn several times. At the moment of awaking, 
 there is some confusion of ideas, but this immedi- 
 ately wears away. The mental faculties from being 
 in utter torpor, begin to act one after the other ; * 
 the senses do the same. At last, the mind, the 
 senses and the locomotion being completely re- 
 stored, what are our sensations?* Instead of the 
 listlessness, lassitude, and general fatigue experi- 
 enced on lying down, we feel vigorous and refreshed. 
 The body is stronger, the tlioughts clearer and 
 more composed ; we think coolly, clearly, rationally, 
 and can often comprehend with ease what baffled 
 us on the previous night. 
 
 One or two other points remain to be noticed 
 On awaking the eyes are painfully affected by the 
 light, but this shortly wears away, and we then feel 
 them stronger than when we wont lo bed. The 
 
 * " In the gradual progress from intense sleep, when there can 
 be no dream, to the moment of perfect vigilance, see wliat oc- 
 curs. The fust cerebnil organ that awakes enters into the train 
 of thinking connected with its laculty: some kind of dream is 
 the result ; as organ after organ awakes, the dream becomes 
 more vivid; and as the number of active organs increases, so 
 does the complication of dreams; and if all the internal organs 
 are awake, the man is still asleep until his awakening scnsen 
 bring him into direct communication with the world." 
 
 CarmichacVs Memoir of Spurzheim, p. 92. 
 
SLEEP IN GENERAL. 39 
 
 muscular power, also, for a few seconds, is affected. 
 We totter when we get up ; and if we lay hold of 
 any thing-, the hand lacks its wonted strength. 
 This, however, as the current of nervous energy is 
 restored throughout the muscles, immediately disap- 
 pears ; and we straightway possess redoubled vigour. 
 On examining the urine, we find that it is higher 
 in its colour than when we lay down. The saliva 
 is more viscid, the phlegm harder and tougher, the 
 eyes glutinous, and the nostrils dry. If we betake 
 ourselves to the scale, we find that our weight has 
 diminished in consequence of the nocturnal perspi- 
 rations; while, by subjecting our stature to measure- 
 ment, we shall see that we are taller by nearly an 
 inch than on the preceding night. This fact was 
 correctly ascertained in a great variety of instances 
 by Mr. Wasse, Rector of Aynho in Northumberland ; 
 and is sufficiently accounted for by the interverte- 
 bral cartilages recovering their elasticity, in conse- 
 quence of the bodily weight being taken off them 
 during the recumbent posture of sleep. 
 
 Such are the leading phenomena of sleep. With 
 regard to the purposes which it serves in the eco- 
 nomy, these are too obvious to require much detail. 
 Its main object is to restore the strength expended 
 during wakefulness; to recruit the body by pro- 
 
40 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 moting nutrition and giving rest to the muscles ; 
 and to renovate the mind by the repose which it 
 aflFords the brain. Action is necessarily followed 
 by exhaustion ; sleep by checking the one restrains 
 the other, and keeps the animal machine in due 
 vigour. According to Richerand, one of the great 
 purposes served by sleep, is to diminisli the activity 
 of the circulation, which a state of wakefulness has 
 the invariable effect of increasing. '• The exciting 
 causes," he observes, *' to which our organs are 
 subject during the day, tend progressively to in- 
 crease their action. The throbbings of the Jieart, 
 for instance, are more frequent at night than in the 
 morning; and this action, gradually accelerated, 
 would soon be carried to such a degree of activity 
 as to be inconsistent with life, if its velocity were 
 not moderated at intervals by the recurrence of 
 sleep." 
 
 To detail the beneficent purposes served by 
 sleep in the cure of diseases, as well as in Iiealth, 
 would be a work of supererogation. They are felt 
 and recognised by mankind as so indispensable to 
 strength, to happiness, and to life itself, that lie 
 who dispenses with that portion of repose required 
 by the wants of nature, is in reality curtailing the 
 duration of his own existence. 
 
DREAMING. 41 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 DREAMING. 
 
 In perfect sleep, as we have elsewhere stated, there 
 is a quiescence of all the organs which compose the 
 brain ; but when, in consequence of some inward 
 excitement, one organ or more continues awake, 
 while the remainder are in repose, a state of incom- 
 plete sleep is the result, and we have the pheno- 
 mena of dreaming. If, for instance, any irritation, 
 such as pain, fever, drunkenness, or a heavy meal, 
 should throw the perceptive organs into a state of 
 action while the reflecting ones continue asleep, we 
 have a consciousness of objects, colours, or sounds 
 being presented to us, just as if the former or- 
 gans were actually stimulated by having such im- 
 pressions communicated to them by the external 
 
42 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 senses;* while, in consequence of the repose of the 
 reflecting organs, we are unable to rectify the illu- 
 sions, and conceive that the scenes passing before us, 
 or the sounds that we hear, have a real existence. 
 This want of mutual co-operation between the differ- 
 ent organs of the brain accounts for the disjointed 
 nature, the absurdities, and in coherencies of dreams.-|- 
 Many other doctrines have been started by 
 philosophers, but I am not aware of any wliich 
 can lay claim even to plausibility ; some, indeed, 
 
 • This internal stimulation of particular orjjans without the 
 concurrence of outward impressions hy the senses, is more fully- 
 stated under the head of Spectral Illusions. 
 
 f Dr. Pierquin reports the followinjj case illustrative of the 
 action of the hrain during the performance of the mental func- 
 tions. It fell under his notice in one of the hospitals of INIont- 
 pellier, in the year 1821. — " The subject of it was a female, at the 
 age of twenty-six, who had lost a large portion of her scalp, skull- 
 bone, and dura mater in a neglected attack of lues venerea. A 
 corresponding portion of her brain was consequently bare, and 
 subject to inspection. When she was in a dreatnless sleep, her 
 brain was motionless, and lay within the cranium. When her 
 sleep was imperfect, and she was agitated by dreams, her brain 
 moved and portruded without the cranium, forming cerebral 
 hernia. In vivid dreams, reported as such by herself, the pro- 
 trusion was considerable, and when she was perfectly awake, 
 especially if engaged in active thoui;ht, or sprightly conversa- 
 tion, it was still greater. Nor did the protrusion occur in jerks, 
 alternating with recessions, as if caused by the impulses of the 
 arterial blood. It remained steady while conversation lasted." 
 
DREAMING. 43 
 
 are so chimerical, and so totally unsupported by- 
 evidence, that it is difficult to conceive how they 
 ever entered into the imaginations of their founders. 
 Baxter, for instance, in his " Treatise on the Im- 
 mortality of the Soul," endeavours to show that 
 dreams are produced by the agency of some spirit- 
 ual beings, who either amuse, or employ themselves 
 seriously, in engaging mankind in all those ima- 
 ginary transactions with which they are employed in 
 dreaming. The theory of Democritus and Lucre- 
 tius is equally whimsical. They accounted for 
 dreams by supposing that spectres, and simulacra 
 of corporeal things constantly emitted from them, 
 and floating up and down in the air, come and 
 assault the soul in sleep. The most prevailing doc- 
 trine is that of the Cartesians, who supposed that 
 the mind was continually active in sleep ; in other 
 words, that during this state we were always 
 dreaming. Hazlitt, in his " Round Table," has 
 taken the same view of the subject, and alleges, that 
 if a person is awakened at any given time and 
 asked what he has been dreaming about, he will at 
 once be recalled to a train of associations with 
 which his mind had been busied previously. Un- 
 fortunately for this theory, it is not sustained by 
 facts ; experiments made on purpose having shown 
 
44 PHILOSOPHy OF SLEEP. 
 
 that, tliougli in some few instances, the individual 
 had such a consciousness of dreaming as is described, 
 yet in the great majority he had no consciousness of 
 any thing of the kind. The doctrine, therefore, so 
 far as direct evidence is concerned, must fall to the 
 ground ; and yet, unsupported as it is either by 
 proof or analogy, this is the fashionable hypothesis 
 of the schools, and the one most in vogue among 
 our best metaphysical writers. 
 
 There is a strong analogy between dreaming 
 and insanity. Dr. Abercrombie defines the differ- 
 ence between the two states to be, that in the latter 
 the erroneous impression, being permanent, affects 
 the conduct ; whereas in dreaming, no influence on 
 the conduct is produced, because the vision is dissi- 
 pated on awaking. This definition is nearly, but 
 not wholly correct; for in somnambulism and sleep- 
 talking, the conduct is influenced by the prevailing 
 dream. Dr. Rush has, with great shrewdness, 
 remarked, that a dream may be considered as a 
 transient paroxysm of delirium, and delirium as a 
 permanent dream. 
 
 Man is not tlie only animal subject to dreaming. 
 We have every reason to believe tliat many of the 
 lower jinimals do the same. Horses neigh and 
 rear, and dogs bark and growl in their sleep. 
 
DREAMING. 45 
 
 Probably, at such times, the remembrance of the 
 chase or the combat was passing through the minds 
 of these creatures ; and they also not unfrequently 
 manifest signs of fear, joy, playfulness, and almost 
 every other passion.* Ruminating animals, such 
 as the sheep and cow, dream less ; but even they 
 are sometimes so affected, especially at the period 
 of rearing their young. The parrot is said to 
 dream, and I should suppose some other birds do 
 the same. Indeed, the more intellectual the animal 
 is, the more likely is it to be subject to dreaming. 
 Whether fishes dream it is impossible to conjec- 
 ture : nor can it be guessed, with any thing like 
 certainty, at what point in the scale of animal in- 
 tellect, the capability of dreaming ceases, although 
 it is very certain there is such a point. I appre- 
 hend that dreaming is a much more general law 
 than is commonly supposed, and that many animals 
 dream which are never suspected of doing so. 
 
 Some men are said never to dream, and others 
 only when their health is disordered : Dr. Beattie 
 
 * " The stag-hounds, weary with the chase. 
 Lay stretched upon the rushy floor, 
 And urged in dreams the forest race 
 From Teviot-stone to Eskdale moor." 
 
 Lot/ of the Last Minstrel. 
 
46 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 mentions a case of the latter description. For 
 many years before his death, Dr. Reid had no con- 
 sciousness of ever having dreamed ; and Mr. Locke 
 takes notice of a person who never did so till his 
 twenty-sixth year, when he began to dream in con- 
 sequence of having had a fever. It is not impossi- 
 ble, however, but tliat, in these cases, the individuals 
 may have had dreams from the same age as other 
 people, and under the same circumstances, although 
 probably tliey were of so vague a nature, as to have 
 soon faded away from the memory. 
 
 Dreams occur more frequently in the morning 
 than in the early part of the night ; a proof that the 
 sleep is mucli more profound in the latter period 
 than in the former. Towards morning the faculties, 
 being refreshed by sleep, are more disposed to enter 
 into activity: and this explains why, as we approach 
 the hours of waking, our dreams are more fresh and 
 vivid. Owing to tlie comparatively active state of 
 the faculties, morning dreams are tlie more rational 
 — wlienco tlio old adage, that such dreams are true. 
 
 Children dream almost from their birth ; atul if 
 we may judge from what, on many occasions, tliey 
 endure during sleep, we must suppose tliat tlie 
 visions whicli haunt their yotmg minds are often of 
 a very frightful kind. Children, from many causes, 
 
DREAMING, 47 
 
 are more apt to have dreams of terror than adults. 
 In the first place, they are peculiarly subject to 
 various diseases, such as teething-, convulsions, and 
 bowel complaints, those fertile sources of mental 
 terror in sleep ; and, in the second place, their minds 
 are exceedingly susceptible of dread in all its forms, 
 and prone to be acted on by it, whatever shape it 
 assumes. Many of the dreams experienced at this 
 early period, leave an indelible impression upon 
 the mind. They are remembered in after-years 
 with feelings of pain ; and, blending- with the more 
 delightful reminiscences of childhood, demonstrate 
 that this era, v/hich we are apt to consider one un- 
 varied scene of sunshine and happiness, had, as well 
 as future life, it shadows of melancholy, and was not 
 untinged with hues of sorrow and care. The sleep 
 of infancy, therefore, is far from being that ideal 
 state of felicity which is commonly supposed. It is 
 haunted with its own terrors, even more than that 
 of adults ; and, if m.any of the visions which people 
 it are equally delightful, there can be little doubt 
 that it is also tortured by dreams of a more painful 
 character than often fall to the share of after-life. 
 
 In health, when the mind is at ease, we seldom 
 dream; and when we do so, our visions are generally 
 of a pleasing character. In disease, especially of the 
 
48 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 brain, liver and stomach, dreams are both common 
 and of a very distressing kind. 
 
 Some writers imagine, that as we grow older, our 
 dreams become less absurd and inconsistent, but 
 this is extremely doubtful. Probably, as we advance 
 in life, we are less troubled with these phenomena 
 than at the period of youth, when imagination is full 
 of activity, and the mind peculiarly liable to impres- 
 sions of every kind ; but when they do take place, 
 we shall find them equally preposterous, unphiloso- 
 phical and crude, with those which haunted our 
 early years. Old people dream more, however, 
 than the middle-aged, owing doubtless to the more 
 broken and disturbed nature of their repose. 
 
 I believe tliat dreams are uniformly the resuscita- 
 tion or re-embodiment of thoughts which have for- 
 merly, in some shape or other, occupied tlie mind. 
 They are old ideas revived either in an entire state, 
 or heterogenoously mingled togetlier. I doubt if it 
 be possible for a j)ors;on to have, in a dream, any 
 idea whose elements did not, in some form, strike 
 him at a previous period. If these })reak loose from 
 their connecting chain, and become jumbled together 
 incoherently, as is often the case, they give rise to 
 absurd combinations ; but the elements still siibsist, 
 and only manifest themselves in a new and union- 
 
DREAMING. 49 
 
 iiected shape. As this is an important point, and 
 one which has never been properly insisted upon, I 
 shall illustrate it by an example. I lately dreamed 
 that I walked upon the banks of the Great Canal 
 in the neighbourhood of Glasgow. On the side 
 opposite to that on which I was, and within a few 
 feet of the water, stood the splendid portico of the 
 Royal Exchange. A gentleman, whom I knew, 
 was standing upon one of the steps, and we spoke 
 to each other. I then lifted a large stone, and 
 poised it in my hand, when he said that he was 
 sure I could not throw it to a certain spot which 
 he pointed out. I made the attempt, and fell short 
 of the mark. At this moment, a well known friend 
 came up, whom I knew to excel at putting the 
 stone ; but, strange to say, he had lost both his 
 legs, and walked upon wooden substitutes. This 
 struck me as exceedingly curious ; for my impres- 
 sion was that he had only lost one leg, and had but 
 a single wooden one. At my desire he took up the 
 stone, and, without difficulty, threw it beyond the 
 point indicated by the gentleman upon the opposite 
 side of the canal. The absurdity of this dream is 
 extremely glaring; and yet, on strictly analyzing 
 it, I find it to be wholly composed of ideas, which 
 passed through my mind on the previous day, 
 
 D 
 
50 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 assuming a new and ridiculous arrangement. I can 
 compare it to nothing but to cross readings in the 
 newspapers, or to that well known amusement which 
 consists in putting a number of sentences, each 
 written on a separate piece of paper, into a hat, 
 shaking the whole, then taking them out one by- 
 one as they come, and seeing what kind of medley 
 the heterogeneous compound will make when thus 
 fortuitously put together. For instance, I had, on 
 the above day, taken a walk to the canal along with 
 a friend. On returning from it, I pointed out to 
 him a spot where a new road was forming, and 
 where, a few days before, one of the workmen had 
 been overwhelmed by a quantity of rubbish falling 
 upon him, which fairly chopped off one of his legs, 
 and so much damaged the other that it was fejued 
 amputation would be necessary. Near this very spot 
 there is a park in which, about a montli previously, 
 I practised throwing the stone. On passing the 
 Exchange on my way home, I expressed regret at 
 the lowness of its situation, and remarked what a 
 fine effect the portico would have were it placed 
 upon more elevated ground. Such were the pre- 
 vious circumstances, and h.'t us see how they bear 
 upon the dream. In the first place, the canal ap- 
 peared before me. 2. Its situation is an elevated 
 
DREAMING. 51 
 
 one. 3. The portico of the Exchange, occurring 
 to my mind as being placed too low, became asso- 
 ciated with the elevation of the canal, and I placed 
 it close by on a similar altitude. 4. The gentleman 
 1 had been walking with was the same whom, in the 
 dream, I saw standing upon the steps of the portico. 
 5. Having related to him the story of the man who 
 lost one limb, and had a chance of losing another, 
 this idea brings before me a friend with a brace of 
 wooden legs, who, moreover, appears in connexion 
 with putting the stone, as I know him to excel at 
 that exercise. There is only one other element in 
 the dream which the preceding events will not ac- 
 count for, and that is, the surprise at the individual 
 referred to having more than one wooden leg. But 
 why should he have even one, seeing that in reality 
 he is limbed like other people ? This also I can 
 account for. Some years ago, he slightly injured 
 his knee while leaping a ditch, and I remember of 
 jocularly advising him to get it cut off. I am parti- 
 cular in illustrating this point with regard to dreams, 
 for I hold, that if it were possible to analyze them 
 all, they would invariably be found to stand in the 
 same relation to the waking state as the above 
 specimen. The more diversified and incongruous 
 the character of a dream, and the more remote 
 
52 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 from the period of its occurrence the circumstaiices 
 which suggest it, the more difficult does its analysis 
 become ; and, in point of fact, this process may be 
 impossible, so totally are the elements of the dream 
 often dissevered from their original source, and so 
 ludicrously huddled together. This subject shall be 
 more fully demonstrated in speaking of the remote 
 causes of dreams. 
 
 Dreams generally arise without any assignable 
 cause, but sometimes we can very readily discover 
 their origin. Whatever has much interested us 
 during the day, is apt to resolve itself into a dream; 
 and this will generally be pleasurable, or the re- 
 verse according to tlie nature of the exciting cause. 
 If, for instance, our reading or conversation be of 
 horrible subjects, such as spectres, murders, or con- 
 flagrations, they will appear before us magnified 
 and heightened in our dreams. Or if we have been 
 previously sailing upon a rough sea, we are apt to 
 suppose ourselves undergoing the perils of ship- 
 wreck. Pleasurable sensations during the day are 
 also apt to assume a still more pleasurable aspect in 
 dreams. In like manner, if we have a longing for 
 any thing, we are apt to suppose that we possess it. 
 Even objects altogether unattainable are placed 
 within our reach : we achieve impossibilities, and 
 
DREAMING. 53 
 
 triumpli with ease over the invincible laws of 
 nature. 
 
 A disordered state of the stomach and liver will 
 often produce dreams. Persons of bad digestion, 
 especially hypochondriacs, are harassed with visions 
 of the most frightful nature. This fact was well 
 known to the celebrated Mrs. Radcliffe, who, for 
 the purpose of filling her sleep with those phantoms 
 of horror, which she has so forcibly embodied in 
 the " Mysteries of Udolpho," and " Romance of 
 the Forest," is said to have supped upon the most 
 indigestible substances ; while Dryden and Fuseli, 
 with the opposite view of obtaining splendid dreams, 
 are reported to have eaten raw flesh. Diseases of 
 the chest, where the breathing is impeded, also give 
 rise to horrible visions, and constitute the frequent 
 causes of that most frightful modification of dream- 
 ing — night-mare. 
 
 The usual intoxicating agents have all the power 
 of exciting dreams. The most exquisite visions, as 
 well as the most frightful, are perhaps those occa- 
 sioned by narcotics. These differences depend on 
 the dose and the particular state of the system at 
 the time of taking it. Dreams also may arise from 
 the deprivation of customary stimuli, such as spirits, 
 or supper before going to bed. More frequently, 
 
54 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 however, they originate from indulging in such 
 excitations. 
 
 A change of bed will sometimes induce dreams ; 
 and, generally speaking, they are more apt to occur 
 in a strange bed than in the one to which we are 
 accustomed. 
 
 Dreams often arise from the impressions made 
 upon the senses during sleep. Dr. Beattie speaks 
 of a man on whom any kind of dream could 
 be induced, by his friends gently speaking in his 
 presence upon the particular subject which they 
 wished him to dream about. I have often tried this 
 experiment upon persons asleep, and more than once 
 with a like result. I apprehend, that when this 
 takes place, the slumber must have been very im- 
 perfect. With regard to the possibility of dreams 
 being produced by bodily impressions, Dr. Gregory 
 relates, that having occasion to apply a bottle of hot 
 water to his feet when he went to bed, he dreamed 
 that he was making a journey to the top of Mount 
 Etna, and that he found the heat of the ground almost 
 insufferable. Another person having a blisterapplied 
 to his head, imagined that he was scalped by a party 
 of Indians ; while a friend of mine happening to 
 sleep in damp sheets, dreamed that he was dragged 
 through a stream. Another friend dreamed that 
 
DREAMING. 55 
 
 he was stroking a kitten which in consequence 
 purred most lustily. On awaking, he found that 
 the working of the heavy machinery of a neighbour- 
 ing mill was slightly shaking his bed, and making 
 the joints produce a sound like the purring of a 
 cat. A paroxysm of gout during sleep, has given 
 rise to the person supposing himself under tlie 
 power of the Inquisition, and undergoing the tor- 
 ments of the rack. The bladder is sometimes 
 emptied during sleep, from the dreaming idea being 
 directed (in consequence of the unpleasant fulness of 
 the viscus) to this particular want of nature. These 
 results are not uniform, but such is the path in 
 which particular bodily states are apt to lead the 
 imagination ; and dreams, occurring in these states, 
 will more frequently possess a character analogous 
 to them than to any other — modified, of course, 
 by the strength of the individual cause, and fer- 
 tility of the fancy. 
 
 Some curious experiments in regard to this point, 
 were made by M. Girou de Buzareingues, which 
 seem to establish the practicability of a person 
 determining at will the nature of his dreams. By 
 leaving his knees uncovered, he dreamed that he 
 travelled during night in a diligence : travellers, he 
 observes, being aware that in a coach it is the knees 
 
56 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 that get cold during- the night. On another occa- 
 sion, having left the posterior part of his head un- 
 covered, he dreamed that he was present at a reli- 
 gious ceremony performed in the open air. It was 
 the custom of the country in which he lived to have 
 the head constantly covered, except on particular 
 occasions, such as the above. On awaking, he felt 
 the back of his neck cold, as he had often experi- 
 enced during the real scenes, the representation of 
 which had been conjured up by his fiincy. Having 
 repeated this experiment at the end of several days, 
 to assure himself that the result was not the effect 
 of chance, the second vision turned out precisely the 
 same as the first. Even without making experi- 
 ments, we have frequent evidence of similar facts ; 
 thus, if the clothes chance to fall off us, we are liable 
 to suppose that we are parading the streets in a 
 state of nakedness, and feel all the shame and in- 
 convenience which such a condition would in reality 
 produce. We see crowds of people following after 
 us and mocking our nudity; and we wander from 
 place to place seeking a refuge under this ideal mis-^ 
 fortune. Fancy, in truth, heightens every circum- 
 stance, and inspires us with greater vexation tlian 
 we would feel if actually labouring under such an 
 annoyance. The streets in which we wander are 
 
DREAMING. 57 
 
 depicted with the force of reality; we see their 
 windings, their avenues, their dwelling--places, with 
 intense truth. Even the inhabitants who follow us 
 are exposed to view in all their various dresses and 
 endless diversities of countenance. Sometimes we 
 behold our intimate friends gazing upon us with 
 indifference, or torturing with annoying imperti- 
 nence. Sometimes we see multitudes whom we 
 never beheld before; and each individual is exposed 
 so vividly, that we could describe, or even paint 
 his aspect. 
 
 In like manner, if we lie awry, or if our feet slip 
 over the side of the bed, we often imagine ourselves 
 standing upon the brink of a fearful precipice, 
 or falling from its beetling summit into the abyss 
 beneath.* If the rain or hail patter against our 
 window, we have often the idea of a hundred 
 cataracts pouring from the rocks ; if the wind howl 
 without, we are suddenly wrapt up in a thunder- 
 storm, with all its terrible associations ; if the head 
 
 * Dr. Currie, in allusion to the visions of the hypochondi'iac, 
 obsei'ves, that if he dream of falling into the sea, he awakes just 
 as the waters close over him, and is sensible of the precise 
 gurgling sound which those experience who actually sink under 
 water. In falling from heights, during dreams, we always awake 
 before reaching the ground. 
 
 D 2 
 
5S PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 happen to slip under the pillow, a huge rock is 
 hanging over us, and ready to crush us beneath its 
 ponderous bulk. Should the heat of the body- 
 chance to be increased by febrile irritation or the 
 temperature of the room, we may suppose our- 
 selves basking under the fiery sun of Africa ; or if, 
 from any circumstance, we labour under a chill, we 
 may then be careering and foundering among the ice- 
 bergs of the pole, while the morse and the famished 
 bear are prowling around us, and claiming us for 
 their prey. Dr. Beattie informs us, that once, after 
 riding thirty miles in a high wind, he passed the 
 ni^ht in visions terrible beyond description. The 
 extent, in short, to which the mind is capable of 
 being carried in such cases, is almost incredible. 
 Stupendous events arise from the most insignificant 
 causes — so completely does sleep magnify and dis- 
 tort every thing placed witliin its influence. The 
 
 province of dreams is one of intense exaggeration 
 
 exaggeration beyond even the wildest conceptions 
 of Oriental romance. 
 
 A smoky cliamber, for instance, has given rise 
 to the idea of a city in flames. The conflagrations 
 of Rome and Moscow may then pass in terrific 
 splendour before the dreamer's fancy. He may see 
 Nero standing afar off, surrounded by his lictors 
 
DREAMING. 59 
 
 and guards, gazing upon the imperial city wrapt 
 in flames ; or the sanguinary fight of Borodino, 
 followed by the burning of the ancient capital of 
 Russia, may be presented before him with all the 
 intenseness of reality. Under these circumstances, 
 his whole being may undergo a change. He is no 
 longer a denizen of his native country, but of that 
 land to which his visions have transported him. All 
 the events of his own existence fade away; and he 
 becomes a native of Rome or Russia, gazing upon 
 the appalling spectacle. 
 
 On the other hand, the mind may be filled with 
 imagery equally exaggerated, but of a more pleas- 
 ing character. The sound of a flute in the neigh- 
 bourhood may invoke a thousand beautiful and 
 delightful associations. The air is, perhaps, filled 
 with the tones of harps, and all other varieties of 
 music — nay, the performers themselves are visible ; 
 and while the cause of this strange scene is one 
 trivial instrument, we may be regaled with a rich 
 and melodious concert. For the same reason, a 
 flower being applied to the nostrils may, by aff"ecting 
 the sense of smell, excite powerfully the imagina- 
 tion, and give the dreamer the idea of walking in a 
 garden. 
 
 There is one fact connected Mnth dreams which 
 
60 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 is highly remarkable. When we are suddenly 
 awaked from a profound slumber by a loud knock 
 at, or by the rapid opening of, the door, a train of 
 actions which it would take hours, or days, or even 
 weeks to accomplish, sometimes passes through the 
 mind. Time, in fact, seems to be in a great mea- 
 sure annihilated. An extensive period is reduced, 
 as it were, to a single point, or rather a single point 
 is made to embrace an extensive period. In one 
 instant, we pass through many adventures, see many 
 strange sights, and hear many strange sounds. If 
 we are awaked by a loud knock, we have perhaps 
 the idea of a tumult passing before us, and know 
 all the characters engaged in it — their aspects, and 
 even their very names. If the door open violently, 
 the flood-gates of a canal may appear to be expand- 
 ing, and we may see the individuals employed in the 
 process, and hear their conversation, which may 
 seem an hour in length. If a light be brought into 
 the room, the notion of the liouse being in flames 
 perhaps invades us, and we are witnesses to the whole 
 conflagration from its commencement till it be finally 
 extinguished. The thoughts which arise in such 
 situations arc endless, and assume an infinite variety 
 of aspects. The whole, indeed, constitutes one of 
 the strangest phenomena of the human mind, and 
 
DREAMING* 61 
 
 calls to recollection the story of the Eastern mon- 
 arch, who, on dipping his head into the magician's 
 water-pail, fancied he had travelled for years in 
 various nations, although he was only immersed for 
 a single instant. This curious psychological fact, 
 though occurring under somewhat different circum- 
 stances, has not escaped the notice of Mr. De 
 Quincey, better known as the " English Opium- 
 Eater." " The sense of space," says he, " and, in 
 the end, the sense of time, were both powerfully 
 affected. Buildings, landscapes, &c., were exhibited 
 in proportions so vast as the bodily eye is not fitted 
 to receive. Space swelled, and was amplified to an 
 extent of unutterable infinity. This, however, did 
 not disturb me so much as the expansion of time. 
 I sometimes seemed to have lived for seventy or a 
 hundred years in one night; nay, sometimes had 
 feelings representative of a millennium passed in 
 that time, or, however, of a duration far beyond the 
 limits of any human experience." In this singular 
 case, the organs of Size and Time must have been 
 immediately excited, to give rise to such strange 
 results. 
 
 Every person must have experienced this appa- 
 rent expansion of time in his visions. I lately 
 dreamed that I made a voyage to India — remained 
 
62 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 some days in Calcutta — returned home — then took 
 ship for Egypt, where I visited the cataracts of the 
 Nile, Grand Cairo and the Pyramids: and, to 
 crown the whole, had the honour of an interview 
 with Mehemet Ali, Cleopatra and Alexander the 
 Great. All this was the work of a single night, 
 probably of a single hour, or even a few minutes ; 
 and y^ it appeared to occupy at least twelve 
 months.* 
 
 * When Lavalette was in prison, and under sentence of death, 
 he had the following dream, which strongly confirms what I 
 have just mentioned: — " One night," says he, " while 1 was 
 asleep, the clock of the Palais de Justice struck twelve, and awoke 
 me. 1 heard the gate open to relieve the sentry, but I fell asleep 
 again immediately. In this sleep, I dreamed that 1 was stand- 
 ing in the Hue St. Honorc, at the corner of the RuedeV Echelle. 
 A melancholy darkness spread around me ; all was still ; never- 
 theless, a slow and uncertain sound soon arose. All of a sud- 
 den, I perceived at the bottom of the street, and advancing 
 towards me, a troop of cavalry, the men and horses, however, 
 itU flayed. The men held torches in their hands, the red flames of 
 which illuminated faces without skin, and bloody muscles. Their 
 hollow eyes rolled fearfully in their larpe sockets,their mouths 
 opened from ear to ear, and helmets of hanging Hesh covered 
 their hideous heads. The horses dragged along their own skins 
 in the kennels, which overflowed with blood on both sides. 
 I'ale and dishevelled women appeared and disappeared alternate! y 
 at the windows, in dismal silence ; low inarticulate groans 
 filled the air; and 1 remained in the street alone, petrified with 
 horror, and deprived of strength sufficient to seek my safety by 
 
DREAMING. 63 
 
 I must also mention another circumstance of a 
 somewhat similar kind, which, though it occur in the 
 waking condition, is produced by the peculiar effect 
 of previous sleep upon the mind. Thus, when we 
 awake in a melancholy mood, the result probably of 
 some distressing dream, the remembrance of all our 
 former actions, especially those of an evil character, 
 often rushes upon us as from a dark and troubled 
 sea.* They do not appear individually, one by one, 
 but come linked together in a close phalanx, as if to 
 
 flight. This hoiTible troop continued passing rapidly in a 
 rapid gallop, and casting frightful looks on me. Their march, I 
 thought, continued for Jive hours, and they were followed by an 
 immense number of artillery- waggons full of bleeding corpses, 
 whose limbs still quivered ; a disgusting smell of blood and 
 bitumen almost choked me. At length the iron gate of the 
 prison shutting with great force, awoke me again. I made my 
 I'epeater strike ; it was no more than midnight : so that the hor- 
 rible phantasmagoria had lasted no more than two or three 
 minutes — that is to say, the time necessary for relieving the 
 sentry and shutting the gate. The cold was severe, and the 
 watchword short. The next day the turnkey confirmed my 
 calculations. I nevertheless do not I'emember one single event 
 in my life, the duration of which I have been able more exactly 
 to calculate, of which the details are deeper engraven in my 
 memory, and of which I preserve a more perfect consciousness." 
 —From a Biographical Sketch of Lavalette in the Revue de Paris. 
 * Something similar occurs in drowning. Persons recovered 
 from this state have mentioned that, in the course of a single 
 minute, almost every event of their life has been brought to their 
 recollection. 
 
64 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 take the conscience by storm, and crush it beneath 
 their imposing front. The whole span of our exist- 
 ence, from childhood downwards, sends them on; 
 oblivion opens its gulfs and impels them forwards; 
 and the mind is robed in a cloud of wretchedness, 
 without one ray of hope to brighten up its gloom. 
 In common circumstances, we possess no such 
 power of grouping so instantaneously the most 
 distant and proximate events of life : the spell of 
 memory is invoked to call them successively from 
 the past ; and they glide before us like shadows, 
 more or less distinct according to their remoteness, 
 or the force of their impress upon the mind. But 
 in the case of which I speak, they start abruptly 
 forth from the bosom of time, and overwhelm the 
 spirit with a crowd of most sad and appalling 
 reminiscences. In the crucible of our distorted 
 imagination, every thing is exaggerated and in- 
 vested with a blacker gloom than belongs to it ; 
 we see, at one glance, down the whole vista of 
 time ; and each event of our life is written there in 
 gloomy and distressing characters. Hence the 
 mental depression occurring under these circum- 
 stances, and even the remorse which falls, like 
 bitter and unrefreshing dews, upon the heart. 
 ^Ve have seldom any idea of past events in 
 
DREAMING. 65 
 
 dreams ; if such are called forth, they generally 
 seem to be present and in the process of actual oc- 
 currence. We may dream of Alexander the Great, 
 but it is as of a person who is co-existent with 
 ourselves. 
 
 Dreams being produced by the active state of 
 such organs as are dissociated from, or have not 
 sympathized in, the general slumber, partake of the 
 character of those whose powers are in greatest 
 vigour, or farthest removed from the somnolent 
 state. A person's natural character, therefore, or 
 his pursuits in life, by strengthening one faculty, 
 make it less susceptible, than such as are weaker, 
 of being overcome by complete sleep ; or, if it be 
 overcome, it awakes more rapidly from its dormant 
 state, and exhibits its proper characteristics in 
 dreams. Thus, the miser dreams of wealth, the 
 lover of his mistress, the musician of melody, the 
 philosopher of science, the merchant of trade, and 
 the debtor of duns and bailiffs. In like manner, a 
 choleric man is often passionate in his sleep ; a 
 vicious man's mind is filled with wicked actions ; 
 a virtuous man's with deeds of benevolence; a 
 humorist's with ludicrous ideas. Pugnacious people 
 often fight on such occasions, and do themselves 
 serious injury by striking against the posts of the 
 
66 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 bed; while persons addicted to lying, frequently 
 dream of exercising their favourite vocation. 
 
 For such reasons, persons who have a strong 
 passion for music often dream of singing and com- 
 posing melodies ; and the ideas of some of our finest 
 pieces are said to have been communicated to the 
 musician in his sleep. Tartini, a celebrated violin 
 player, is said to have composed his famous Devils 
 Sonata from the inspiration of a dream, in which 
 the Devil appeared to him, and challenged him to a 
 trial of skill upon his own fiddle. A mathemati- 
 cian, in like manner, is often engaged in the solu- 
 tion of problems, and has his brain full of Newton, 
 Euler, Euclid, and Laplace : while a poet is occu- 
 pied in writing verses, or in deliberating upon the 
 strains of such bards as are most familiar to his 
 spirit : it was thus in a dream that Mr. Coleridge 
 composed his splendid fragment of Kubla Khan.* 
 
 * The following is the account he hinoself gives of the circum- 
 stance : — " In the summer of the year 1797, the author, then in 
 ill health, had retired to a lonely fjirm-house hetween Porlock 
 and Linton, on the Exmoor confines of Somerset and Devon- 
 shire. In conseijuenoe of a slii;ht indisposition, an anodyne had 
 been prescribed, from the clVeots of whirh he fell asleep in his 
 chair at the moment that he was re.iding tlie following sentence, 
 or words of the same substance, in ♦ Turchas's pilgrimage': — 
 
DREAMING. 67 
 
 To speak phrenologically : if the organs of Form 
 and Size be large, then material images more than 
 sounds or abstractions possess the mind, and every 
 thing may be magnified to unnatural dimensions ; 
 if Colour be fully developed, whatever is presented 
 to the mental eye is brilliant and gaudy, and the 
 person has probably the idea of rich paintings, 
 shining flowers, or varied landscapes ; should 
 
 * Here the Khan Kubla commanded a palace to be built, and a 
 stately garden thereunto. And thus ten miles of fertile ground 
 were enclosed with a wall.' The author continued for about 
 three hours in a profound sleep, at least of the external senses, 
 during which time he had the most vivid confidence, that he 
 could not have composed less than from two to three hundred 
 lines ; if that indeed can be called composition in which all the 
 images rose up before him as things, with a parallel production 
 of the correspondent expressions, without any sensation or con- 
 sciousness of effort. On awaking, he appeared to himself to 
 have a distinct recollection of the whole ; and, taking his pen, ink, 
 and paper, instantly and eagerly wrote down the lines that are 
 here preserved. At this moment he was unfortunately called 
 out by a person on business from Porlock, and detained by him 
 above an hour ; and on his return to his room, found, to his no 
 small surprise and mortification, that though he still retained 
 some vague and dim recollection of the general purport of the 
 vision ; yet, with the exception of some eigbt or ten scattered 
 lines and images, all the rest had passed away like the images on 
 the surface of a stream into which a stone had been cast, but 
 alas ! without the aftei'-restoration of the latter." 
 
08 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 Locality predominate, he is carried away to distant 
 lands, and beholds more extraordinary sights than 
 Cook, Ross, or Franklin ever described. An excess 
 of Cautiousness will inspire him with terror ; an 
 excess of Self-esteem cause him to be placed in dig- 
 nified situations ; while Imitation may render him a 
 mimic or a player ; Language^ a wrangler, or philo- 
 logist; Secretiveness, a deceiver; Acquisitiveness, 
 a thief. Occasionally, indeed, the reverse is the 
 case, and those trains of thought in which we 
 mostly indulge are seldom or never the subjects of 
 our dreams. Some authors even assert that when 
 the mind has been strongly impressed with any 
 peculiar ideas, such are less likely to occur in 
 dreams than their opposites ; but this is taking the 
 exception for the general rule, and is directly at 
 variance with both experience and analogy. In 
 fact, whatever propensities or talents are strongest 
 in the mind of the individual, will, in most cases, 
 manifest themselves with greatest readiness and 
 force in dreams ; and where a faculty is very weak 
 it will scarcely manifest itself at all. Thus, one 
 person who has large TIm/j^ and small Causality will 
 indulge in music, but seldom in ascertaining the 
 nature of cause and effect ; while another, with a 
 contrary disposition of organs, may attempt to 
 
DREAMING. 69 
 
 reason upon abstract truths, while music will rarely 
 intrude into the temple of his thoughts. It is but 
 fair to state, however, that the compositions, the 
 reasonings and the poems which we concoct in 
 sleep, though occasionally superior to those of our 
 waking hours,* are generally of a very absurd de- 
 scription ; and, how admirable soever they may have 
 appeared, their futility is abundantly evident when 
 we awake. To use the words of Dr. Parr, " In 
 dreams we seem to reason, to argue, to compose ; 
 and in all these circumstances during sleep, we are 
 highly gratified, and think that we excel. If, how- 
 ever, we remember our dreams, our reasonings we 
 find to be weak, our arguments we find to be incon- 
 clusive, and our compositions trifling and absurd." 
 The truth of these remarks is undeniable ; but the 
 very circumstance of a man's dreams turning habi- 
 tually upon a particular subject — however ridicu- 
 lously he may meditate thereupon — is a strong 
 presumption that that subject is the one which most 
 
 * Such was the case with Cabanis, who often, during dreams, 
 saw clearly into the hearings of political events which had 
 baffled him when awake : and with Condorcet, who, when en- 
 gaged in some deep and complicated calculations, was frequently 
 obliged to leave them in an unfinished state, and retire to rest, 
 when the results to which they led were at once unfolded in his 
 dreams. 
 
70 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 frequently engrosses his faculties in the waking 
 state : in a word, that the power most energetic in 
 the latter condition is that also most active in dreams. 
 
 Dreams are sometimes useful in affording prog- 
 nostics of the probable termination of several dis- 
 eases. Violent and impetuous dreams occurring in 
 fevers generally indicate approaching delirium ; 
 those of a gloomy terrific nature give strong grounds 
 to apprehend danger ; while dreams of a pleasant 
 cast may be looked upon as harbingers of approach- 
 ing recovery. The visions, indeed, which occur in 
 a state of fever are highly distressing : the mind is 
 vehemently hurried on from one train of ideas to 
 another, and participates in the painful activity of 
 the system. Those generated by hypochondria or 
 indigestion are equally afflicting, but more confined 
 to one unpleasant idea — the intellect being over- 
 powered, as it were, under the pressure of a pon- 
 derous load, from which it experiences an utter in 
 capacity to relieve itself. The febrile dream has a 
 fiery, volatile, fugitive character: the other partakes 
 of the nature of night-mare, in which the faculties 
 seem frozen to torpor, by tlie presence of a loath- 
 some and indolent fiend. 
 
 Other diseases and feelings besides fever give a 
 character to dreams. The dropsical subject often 
 
DREAMING. 71 
 
 has the idea of fountains, and rivers, and seas, in 
 his sleep ; jaundice tinges the objects beheld with 
 its own yellow and sickly hue ; hjwger induces 
 dreams of eating agreeable food ; an attack of in- 
 flammation disposes us to see all things of the 
 colour of blood ; excessiv e thir st presents us with 
 visions of dried up streams, burning sand-plains, and 
 immitigable heat; a bad tastein^the mouth, with 
 the idea of every thing bitter and nauseous. 
 
 If, from any cause, we chance to be relieved from 
 the physical suffering occasioning such dreams, the 
 dreams themselves also wear away, or are succeeded 
 by others of a more pleasing description. Thus, if 
 perspiration succeed to feverish heat, the person 
 who, during the continuance of the latter, fancied 
 himself on the brink of a volcano, or broiled beneath 
 an African sun, is transported to some refreshing 
 stream, and enjoys precisely the pleasure which such 
 a transition would produce did it actually take place. 
 
 Some authors imagine that we never dream of 
 objects which we have not seen ; but the absurdity 
 of this notion is so glaring as to carry its own refu- 
 tation along with it. I have a thousand times 
 dreamed of such objects. 
 
 When a person has a strong desire to see any 
 place or object which he has never seen before, he 
 
72 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 is apt to dream about it ; while, as soon as his desire 
 is gratified, he often ceases so to dream. I remem- 
 ber of hearing a great deal of the beauty of Rouen 
 Cathedral, and in one form or other it was con- 
 stantly presented before my imagination in dreams, 
 but having at last seen the cathedral I never again 
 dreamed about it. This is not the invariable result 
 of a gratified wish ; but it happens so often that it 
 may be considered a general rule. 
 
 Sometimes we awake from dreams in a pleasing 
 at other times in a melancholy mood, without being 
 able to recollect them. They leave a pleasurable 
 or disagreeable impression upon the mind, accord- 
 ing doubtless to their nature ; and yet we cannot 
 properly remember what we were dreaming about. 
 Sometimes, though baflled at the time, we can recall 
 them afterwards, but this seldom happens. 
 
 It often happens that the dreamer, under tlie in- 
 fluence of a friglitful vision, leaps from his bed and 
 calls aloud in a paroxysm of terror. This is very 
 frequently the case with children and persons of 
 weak nerves; but it may happen even with the 
 strongest minded. There is something peculiarly 
 horrible and paralvzing in the terror of sleep. It 
 lays the energies of the soul prostrate before it, 
 crushes them to the earth as beneath the weight of 
 
DREAMING. 73 
 
 an enormous vampyre, and equalizes for a time the 
 courage of the hero and the child. No firmness of 
 mind can at all times withstand the influence of 
 these deadly terrors. The person awakes panic- 
 struck from some hideous vision ; and even after 
 reason returns and convinces him of the unreal 
 nature of his apprehensions, the panic for some 
 time continues, his heart throbs violently, he is 
 covered with cold perspiration, and hides his head 
 beneath the bedclothes, afraid to look around him, 
 lest some dreadful object of alarm should start 
 up before his affrighted vision. Courage and phi- 
 losophy are frequently opposed in vain to these 
 appalling terrors. The latter dreads what it disbe- 
 lieves; and spectral forms, sepulchral voices, and all 
 the other horrid superstitions of sleep arise to vin- 
 dicate their power over that mind, which, under the 
 fancied protection of reason and science, conceived 
 itself shielded from all such attacks, but which, in 
 the hour of trial, often sinks beneath their influence 
 as completely as the ignorant and unreflecting hind, 
 who never employed a thought as to the real nature 
 of these fantastic and illusive sources of terror. 
 The alarm of a frightful dream is sometimes so 
 overpowering, that persons under the impression, 
 thus generated, of being pursued by some imminent 
 
 E 
 
74 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 danger, have actually leaped out of the window to 
 the great danger and even loss of their lives. In 
 the 9th volume of the " Philosophical Transactions 
 of the Royal Society of London," a curious case is 
 given by Archdeacon Squire, of a person who, after 
 liaving been dumb for years, recovered the use of 
 Iiis speech by means of a dream of this description: 
 " One day, in the year 1741, he got very much in 
 liquor, so much so, that on his return home at night 
 to Devizes, he fell from his horse three or four 
 times, and was at last taken up by a neighbour, and 
 put to bed in a house on the road. He soon fell 
 asleep; when, dreaming that he wjis falling into a 
 furnace of boiling wort, it put him jnto so great an 
 agony of fright, that, struggling with all his might to 
 call out for help, he actually did call out alouJ, and 
 recovered the use of his tongue that moment, as 
 effectujilly as he ever had it in his life, without the 
 least hoarseness or alteration in the old sound of 
 his voice/' 
 
 Tlicre have been instances where the terror 
 of a frightful dream has been so great as even to 
 produce insanity. Many years .igo, a woman in tlir 
 M'est Highlands, in consequence of a dream of this 
 kind, after being newly brought to bed, became 
 deranged, and soon after made her escape to the 
 
DREAMING. 75 
 
 mountains, where, for seven years, she herded with 
 the deer, and became so fleet that the shepherds and 
 others, by whom she was occasionally seen, could 
 never arrest her. At the end of this term, a very 
 severe storm brought her and her associates to the 
 valley, when she was surrounded, caught, and con- 
 veyed to her husband, by whom she was cordially 
 received and treated with the utmost kindness. In 
 the course of three months, she regained her reason, 
 and had afterwards several children. When caught, 
 Jier body is said to have been covered with hair, 
 thus giving a colour to the story of Orson and other 
 wild men of the wood. 
 
 Instances have not been wanting where, mider 
 the panic of a frightful vision, persons have actually 
 committed murder. They awake from such a 
 dream — they see some person standing in the room, 
 whom they mistake for an assassin, or dreadful 
 apparition : driven to desperation by terror, they 
 seize the first weapon that occurs, and inflict a fatal 
 wound upon the object of their alarm. Hoif bauer, 
 in his Treatise on Legal Medicine, relates a case of 
 this kind. Although he does not state that the 
 circumstance which occasioned the panic was a pre- 
 vious dream of terror, I do not doubt that such, in 
 reality, must have been the case. *' A report," says 
 
76 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 he, " of the murder committed by Bernard Schid- 
 maizig was made by the Criminal College of Silesia. 
 Schidmaizig awoke suddenly at midnight : at the 
 moment of awaking, he beheld a frightful phantom 
 (at least his imagination so depicted it) standing 
 near him, (in consequence of the heat of the weather 
 lie slept in an open coach-house). Fear, and the 
 obscurity of the night, prevented him from recog- 
 nising any thing distinctly, and the object which 
 struck his vision appe.ired to liim an actual spectre. 
 In a tremulous tone, he twice called out, who goes 
 there ? — he received no answer, and imagined that 
 the apparition was approaching him. Frightened 
 out of his judgment, he sprung from his bed, 
 seized a hatchet wliich he generally kept close by 
 liim, and with this weapon assaulted the imaginary 
 spectre. To see the apparition, to call out, who goes 
 there ? and to seize the hatchet were the work of a 
 moment : he had not an instant for reflection, and 
 with one blow tlie phantom was felled to the ground. 
 Schidmaizig uttered a deep groan. This, and the 
 noise occasioned by the fall of the phantom, com- 
 pletely restored him to his senses ; and all at once 
 the idea flashed across liis mind that he must have 
 struck down liis wife, who slept in the same coach- 
 house. Falling instantly upon his knees, he raised 
 
DREAMING. 7" 
 
 the head of the wounded person, saw the wound 
 which he had made, and the blood that flowed from 
 it; and in a voice full of anguish exclaimed, Susannah^ 
 Sicsa?mah, come to yourself ! He then called his eldest 
 daughter, aged eight years, ordered her to see if her 
 mother was recovering, and to inform her grand- 
 mother that he had killed her. In fact it was his 
 unhappy wife who received the blow, and she died 
 the next day."* 
 
 The passion of horror is more frequently felt in 
 dreams than at any other period. Horror is in- 
 tense dread, produced by some unknown or super- 
 latively disgusting object. The visions of sleep, 
 therefore, being frequently undefined, and of the 
 most revolting description, are apt to produce this 
 emotion, as they are to occasion simple fear. Under 
 
 * This case is highly important in a legal point of view ; and 
 to punish a man for acting similarly in such a state would be 
 as unjust as to inflict punishment for deeds committed under 
 the influence of insanity or somnambulism. " This man," as 
 Hoff bauer properly remarks, " did not enjoy the free use of his 
 senses : he knew not what he saw : he believed that he was 
 repulsing an unlooked-for attack. He soon recognised the 
 place where he usually slept : it was natural that he should 
 seize the hatchet since he had taken the precaution to place it 
 beside him ; but the idea of his wife and the possibility of killing 
 her were the last things that occurred to him." 
 
78 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 its influence, we may suppose that fiends are lowering 
 upon us ; that dismal voices, as from the bottomless 
 pit, or from the tomb, are floating around us ; that 
 we are haunted by apparitions ; or that serpents, 
 scorpions and demons are our bed-fellows. Such 
 sensations are strongly akin to those of night-mare ; 
 but between this complaint and a mere dream of 
 terror, there is a considerable difl'erence. In incubus, 
 the individual feels as if his powers of volition were 
 totally paralyzed ; and as if he were altogether 
 unable to move a limb in his own behalf, or utter a 
 cry expressive of his agony. When these feelings 
 exist, we may consider the case to be one of night- 
 mare : when they do not, and when, notwithstand- 
 ing his terror, he seems to himself to possess unre- 
 strained muscular motion, to run witii ease, breathe 
 freely, and enjoy the full capability of exertion, it 
 must be regarded as a simple dream. 
 
 Dr. EUiotson has remarked, with great acuteness, 
 that dreams in which the perceptive faculties alone 
 are concerned, are more incoliercnt, and subject to 
 more rapid trtinsitions than tljose in wiiich one or 
 more of the organs of the feelings are also in a state 
 of activity. " Thus, in our dreams, we may walk on 
 the brink of a precipice, or see ourselves doomed 
 to immediate destruction by the weapon of a foe, 
 
DREAMING. 79 
 
 or the fury of a tempestuous sea, and yet feel not the 
 slightest emotion of fear, though, during the perfect 
 activity of the brain, we may be naturally disposed 
 to the strong manifestation of this feeling ; again 
 we may see the most extraordinary object or event 
 without surprise, perform the most ruthless crime 
 without compunction, and see what, in our waking 
 hours, would cause us unmitigated grief, without tlie 
 smallest feeling of sorrow." 
 
 Persons are to be found, who, when they speak 
 much during sleep, are unable to remember their 
 dreams on awaking, yet recollect them perfectly if 
 they do not speak. This fact is not very easily 
 accounted for. Probably when we are silent, the 
 mind is more directed upon the subject of the dream, 
 and not so likely to be distracted from it. There 
 is perhaps another explanation. When we dream 
 of speaking, or actually speak, the necessity of using 
 language infers the exercise of some degree of 
 reason ; and, thus the incongruities of the dream 
 being diminished, its nature becomes less striking, 
 and consequently less likely to be remembered. 
 Though we often dream of performing impossibilities, 
 we seldom imagine that we are relating them to 
 others. 
 
 When we dream of visible objects, the sensibility 
 
80 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 of the eyes is diminished in a most remarkable 
 manner ; and on opening them, they are much less 
 dazzled by the light than if we awoke from a 
 slumber altogether unvisited by such dreams. A 
 fact equally curious is noticed by Dr. Darwin, in his 
 " Zoonomia :" — " If we sleep in the day-time, and 
 endeavour to see some object in our dreams, the 
 light is exceedingly painful to our eyes ; and, after 
 repeated struggles we lament in our sleep that we 
 cannot see it. In this case, I apprehend, the eye- 
 lid is in some measure opened by the vehemence of 
 our sensations ; and the iris being dilated, shows as 
 great, or greater, sensibility than in our waking 
 hours." 
 
 There are some persons to whom the objects of 
 their dreams are always represented in asoft, mellow 
 lustre, similar to twilight. They never seem to 
 behold any thing in the broad glare of sunshine ; 
 and, in general, the atmosphere of our vision is 
 less brilliant tlian that through which we are ac- 
 customed to see things while awake. 
 
 The most vivid dreams are certainly those which 
 have reference to siglit. AVith regard to hearing, 
 they are less distinctly impressed upon the mind, 
 and still more feebly as regards smell, or taste. 
 Indeed, some authors are of opinion tli:it we never 
 
DREAMING. 81 
 
 dream of sounds, unless when a sound takes place 
 to provoke the dream ; and the same with regard to 
 smell and taste ; but this doctrine is against analogy, 
 and unsupported by proof. There are, beyond 
 doubt, certain parts of the brain which take cog- 
 nizance of taste, odours and sounds, for the same 
 reason that there are others which recognise forms, 
 dimensions and colours. As the organs of the 
 three latter sensations are capable of inward excite- 
 ment, without any communication, by means of the 
 senses, with the external world, it is no more than 
 analogical to infer that, with the three former, the 
 same thing may take place. In fever, although the 
 individual is ever so well protected against the 
 excitement of external sounds, the internal organ 
 is often violently stimulated, and he is harassed 
 with tumultuous noises. For such reasons, it is 
 evident that there may be in dreams a consciousness 
 of sounds, of tastes and of odours, wl.^re such have 
 no real existence from without. 
 
 Dreams are sometimes exceedingly obscure, and 
 float like faint clouds over the spirit. We can then 
 resolve them into nothing like shape or consistence, 
 but have an idea of our minds being filled with dim, 
 impalpable imagery, which is so feebly impressed 
 upon the tablet of memory, that we are unable to 
 e2 
 
82 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 embody it in language, or communicate its likeness 
 to others. 
 
 At other times, the objects of sleep are stamped 
 with almost supernatural energy. The dead, or the 
 absent, whose appearance to our waking faculties 
 had become faint and obscure, are depicted with 
 intense truth and reality; and even their voices, 
 which had become like the echo of a forgotten song, 
 are recalled from the depths of oblivion, and speak 
 to us as in former times. Dreams, therefore, have 
 the power of brightening up the dim regions of the 
 past, and presenting them with a force which the 
 mere effects of unassisted remembrance could never 
 have accomplished in our waking hours. 
 
 This property of reviving past images, is one of 
 the most remarkable possessed by sleep. It even 
 goes the length, in some cases, of recalling circum- 
 stances which had been entirely forgotten, and pre- 
 senting them to the mind with more than the force 
 of their original impression. Tiiis I conceive to 
 depend upon a particular part of the brain — tliat, 
 for instance, which refers to the memory of the 
 event — being preternaturally excited: hence for- 
 gotten tongues are sometimes brought back to the 
 memory in dreams, owing doubtless to some pecu- 
 liar excitement of the organ of Language, The 
 
DREAMING. 83 
 
 dreamer sometimes converses in a language of which 
 he has no knowledge whatever when he awakes, 
 but with which he must at one period have been ac- 
 quainted. Phenomena of a similar kind occasionally 
 occur in madness, delirium, or intoxication, all of 
 which states have an analogy to dreaming. It is not 
 uncommon, for instance, to witness, in the insane, 
 an unexpected and astonishing resuscitation of 
 knowledge — an intimacy with events and languages 
 of which they were entirely ignorant in the sound 
 state of their minds. In like manner, in the 
 delirium attendant upon fevers, people sometimes 
 speak in a tongue* they know nothing of in health : 
 
 * A girl was seized with a dangerous fever, and, in the deliri- 
 ous paroxysm accompanying it, was observed to speak in a 
 strange language which, for some time, no one could under- 
 stand. At last it was ascertained to he Welsh — a tongue 
 «he was wholly ignorant of at the time she was taken ill, 
 and of which she could not speak a single syllable after her 
 recovery. For some time the circumstance was unaccountable, 
 till, on inquiry, it was found she was a native of Wales, and had 
 been familiar with the language of that country in her child- 
 hood, but had wholly forgotten it afterwards. During the 
 delirium of fever, the obliterated impi-essions of infancy were 
 brought to her mind, and continued to operate there so long as 
 she remained under the mental excitation occasioned by the 
 disease, but no longer; for so soon as the state of mind which 
 recalled these impressions was removed, they also disappeared, 
 and she was as ignorant of Welsh as before she was taken ill. 
 
84 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 and in drunkenness events are brought to the 
 memory which desert it in a state of sobriety.* 
 Analogous peculiarities occur in dreams. Forgot- 
 ten facts are restored to the mind. Sometimes 
 those adhere to it and are remembered when we 
 awake ; at other times — as can be proved in cases 
 of sleep-talking — they vanish with the dream which 
 called them into existence, and are recollected no 
 more. 
 
 I believe that the dreams of the aged, like their 
 memory, relate chiefly to the events of early life, 
 and less to those of more recent occurrence. My 
 friend. Dr. Cumin, has mentioned to me the case 
 of one of his patients, a middle-aged man, whose 
 visions assumed this character in consequence of 
 severe mental anxiety. Owing to misfortunes in trade, 
 his mind had been greatly depressed : he lost his 
 appetite, became restless, nervous, and dejected ; such 
 sleep as he had was filled with incessant dreams, 
 which at first were entirely of events connected 
 with the earliest period of liis life, so far as he 
 
 • Ml". Combe mentions the rase of an Irish porter to a ware- 
 house, who, in one of iiis drunken tits, left a parcel at the wrong 
 house, and when sober couhl not recollect what he had done 
 with it ; but the next time he pot drunk, he recollected where 
 he had left it, aud went aad recovered it. 
 
DREAMING. 85 
 
 recollected it, and never by any chance of late 
 events. In proportion as he recovered from this 
 state, the dreams changed their character, and 
 referred to circumstances farther on in life ; and 
 so regular was the progression, that, with the 
 march of his recovery, so was the onward march of 
 his dreams. During the worst period of his illness, 
 he dreamed of occurrences which happened in boy- 
 hood : no sooner was convalescence established than 
 his visions had reference to manhood ; and on com- 
 plete recovery they were of those recent circum- 
 stances which had thrown him into bad health. In 
 this curious case, one lateral half of the head was 
 much warmer than the other. This was so remark- 
 able as to attract the notice of the barber who 
 shaved it. 
 
 One of the most remarkable phenomena of dreams 
 is the absence of surprise. This, indeed, is not in- 
 variable, as every one must occasionally have felt the 
 sensation of surprise, and been not a little puzzled 
 in his visions to account for the phenomena which 
 present themselves; but, as a general rule, its absence 
 is so exceedingly common, that, when surprise does 
 occur, it is looked upon as an event out of the 
 common order, and remarked accordingly. Scarcely 
 any event, however incredible, impossible, or 
 
86 THILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 absurd, gives rise to this sensation. We see 
 circumstances at utter variance with the laws of 
 nature, and yet their discordancy, impracticability 
 and oddness seldom strike us as at all out of the 
 usual course of things. This is one of the strongest 
 proofs that can be alleged in support of the dor- 
 mant condition of the reflecting faculties. Had 
 these powers been awake, and in full activity, they 
 would have pointed out the erroneous nature of the 
 impressions conjured into existence by fancy; and 
 shown us truly that the visions passing before 
 us were merely the chimeras of excited imagina- 
 tion — the airy phantoms of imperfect sleep. 
 
 In visions of the dead, we have a striking in- 
 stance of the absence of surprise. Wq almost never 
 wonder at beholding individuals whom we yet 
 know, in our dreams, to have even been buried for 
 years. We see them among us, and hear them talk, 
 and associate with them on tiie footing of fond com- 
 panionship. Still the circumstance seldom strikes 
 us with wonder, nor do we attempt to account for 
 it. They still seem alive as wlion they were on 
 earth, only all their qualities, whether good or bad, 
 are exaggerated by sleep. If we hated them while 
 in life, our animosity is now exaggerated to a double 
 degree. If we loved tliem, our affection becomes 
 
DREAMING. 87 
 
 more passionate and intense than ever. Under these 
 circumstances, many scenes of most exquisite plea- 
 sure often take place. The slumberer supposes 
 himself enjoying the communionship of those who 
 were dearer to him than life, and has far more in- 
 tense delight than he could have experienced, had 
 these individuals been in reality alive, and at his 
 side. 
 
 " I hear thy voice in dreams. 
 
 Upon me softly call, 
 Like echo of the mountain streams 
 
 In sportive waterfall : 
 I see thy form, as when 
 
 Thou wert a living thing, 
 And blossom'd in the eyes of men 
 
 Like any flower of spring." 
 
 Nor is the passion of love, when experienced in 
 dreams, less vivid than any other emotion, or the 
 sensations to which it gives rise less pleasurable. I 
 do not here allude to the passion in its physical 
 sense, but to that more moral and intellectual feel- 
 ing, the result of deep sensibility and attachment. 
 Men who never loved before, have conceived a deep 
 affection to some particular woman in their dreams, 
 which, continuing to operate upon them after they 
 awoke, has actually terminated in a sincere and 
 lasting fondness for the object of their visionary 
 
88 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 love. Men, again, who actually are in love, dream 
 more frequently of this subject than of any thing 
 else — fancying themselves in the society of their 
 mistresses, and enjoying a happiness more exquisite 
 than is compatible with the waking state — a happi- 
 ness, in short, little removed from celestial. Such 
 feelings are not confined to men : they pervade the 
 female breast with equal intensity ; and the young 
 maiden, stretched upon the conch of sleep, may have 
 her spirit filled with the image of her lover, while 
 her whole being swims in the ecstasies of impas- 
 sioned, yet virtuous attachment. At other times, 
 this pure passion may, in both sexes, be blended with 
 one of a grosser character; which also may acquire 
 an increase of pleasurable sensation : to such an 
 extent is every circumstance, whether of delight or 
 suffering, exaggerated by sleep. 
 
 For the same reason that the lover dreams of 
 love, does the newly-married woman dream of 
 children. Tliey, especially if she have a natural 
 fondness for them — if she herself be pregnant, or 
 possess an ardent longing for offspring — are often 
 the subject of her sleeping thoughts ; and she 
 conceives lierself to be encircled by tliem, and ex- 
 periencing intense pleasure in their innocent society. 
 Men wlio are very fond of children often experience 
 
DREAMING. 89 
 
 the same sensations; and both men and women who 
 are naturally indifferent in this respect, seldom 
 dream about them, and never with any feelings of 
 peculiar delight. 
 
 During the actual process of any particular dream, 
 we are never conscious that we are really dreaming; 
 but it sometimes happens that a second dream takes 
 place, during which we have a consciousness, or a 
 suspicion, that the events which took place in the 
 first dream were merely visionary, and not real. 
 People, for instance, sometimes fancy in sleep, that 
 they have acquired wealth : this may be called the 
 first dream ; and during its progress they never for 
 a moment doubt the reality of their impressions; 
 but a second one supervenes upon this, and they 
 then begin to wonder whether their riches be real 
 or imaginary — in other words, they try to ascertain 
 whether they had been previously dreaming or not. 
 But even in the second dream we are unconscious 
 of dreaming. We still seem to ourselves to be 
 broad awake — a proof that in dreams we are never 
 aware of being asleep. This unconsciousness of 
 being asleep during the dreaming state, is referrible 
 to the quiescent condition of the reasoning powers. 
 The mind is wholly subject to the sceptre of other 
 faculties; and whatever emotions or images they 
 
90 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP, 
 
 invoke, seem to be real, for want of a controlling 
 
 power to point out their true character. 
 
 " You stood before me like a thought, 
 A dream remembered ia a dream." 
 
 Those troubled with deafness do not hear dis- 
 tinctly such sounds as they conceive to be uttered 
 during sleep. Dr. Darwin speaks of a gentleman 
 who, for thirty years, had entirely lost his hearing, 
 and who in his dreams never seemed to converse 
 with any person except by the fingers or in writing: 
 he never had the impression of hearing them speak. 
 In like manner, a blind man seldom dreams of 
 visible objects, and never if he has been blind from 
 his birth. Dr. Blacklock, indeed, wlio became 
 blind in early infancy, may seem an exception to 
 this rule. AVHiile asleep, he was conscious of a 
 sense which he did not possess in tlie waking state, 
 and which bears some analogy to sight. He ima- 
 gined that he was united to objects by a sort of 
 distant contact, wliich was effected by tlireads or 
 strings passing from their bodies to his own. 
 
 The illusion of dreams is much more complete 
 than that of the most exquisite plays. We pass, in 
 a second of time, from one country to another; and 
 persons wlio lived in the most different ages of the 
 world are brought together in strange and incon- 
 
DREAMING. 91 
 
 gruous confusion. It is not uncommon to see, 
 at the same moment, Robert the Bruce, Julius 
 Caesar and Marlborough in close conversation. 
 Nothing, in short, however monstrous, incredible, 
 or impossible, seems absurd. Equally striking 
 examples of illusion occur when the person awakes 
 from a dream, and imagines that he hears voices or 
 beholds persons in the room beside him. In the 
 first cases we are convinced, on awaking, of the 
 deceptive nature of our visions, from the utter im- 
 possibility of their occurrence : they are at variance 
 with natural laws ; and a single eflFort of reason is 
 sufficient to point out their absolute futility. But 
 when the circumstances whicli seem to take place 
 are not in themselves conceived impossible, how- 
 ever unlikely they may be, it is often a matter of 
 the utmost difficulty for us to be convinced of their 
 real character. On awaking, we are seldom aware 
 that, when they took place, we laboured under a 
 dream. Such is their deceptive nature, and such 
 the vividness with which they appear to strike our 
 senses, that we imagine them real; and accordingly 
 often start up in a paroxysm of terror, having 
 the idea that our chamber is invaded by thieves, 
 that strange voices are calling upon us, or that we 
 are haunted by the dead. When there is no way 
 
92 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 of confuting these impressions, they often remain 
 rootedly fixed in the mind, and are regarded as 
 actual events, instead of the mere chimeras of 
 sleep. This is particularly the case with the weak- 
 minded and superstitious, whose feelings are always 
 stronger than their judgments ; hence the thou- 
 sand stories of gliosts and warnings with which the 
 imaginations of these persons are haunted — hence 
 the frequent occurrence of nocturnal screaming and 
 terror in children, whose reflecting faculties are 
 naturally too weak to correct the impressions of 
 dreams, and point out their true nature — hence the 
 painful illusions occurring even to persons of strong 
 intellect, when they are debilitated by watchfulness, 
 long-continued mental suffering, or protracted dis- 
 ease. These impressions often arise without any 
 apparent cause: at other times, the most trivial 
 circumstances will produce them. A voice, for 
 instance in a neighbouring street, may seem to 
 proceed from our own apartment, and may assume 
 a character of the most appalling description; while 
 the tread of footsteps, or the knocking of a hammer 
 over-head, may resolve itself into a frightful figure 
 stalking before us. 
 
 "I know," says Mr. ^Valler, "a gentlemen, who 
 is living at this moment a needless slave to terror. 
 
DREAMING. 93 
 
 which arises from a circumstance which admits easily 
 of explanation. He Avas lying- in his bed with his 
 wife, and, as he supposed, quite awake, when he felt 
 distinctly the impression of some person's hand upon 
 his right shoulder, which created such a degree of 
 alarm that he dared not to move himself in bed, and, 
 indeed, could not, if he had possessed the courage. 
 It was some time before he had it in his power 
 to awake his wife, and communicate to her the 
 subject of his terror. The shoulder which had felt 
 the impression of the hand, continued to feel 
 benumbed and uncomfortable for some time. It 
 had been uncovered, and, most probably, the cold 
 to which it was exposed was the cause of the 
 phenomenon."* 
 
 An attack of dreaming illusion, not, however, 
 accompanied with any unpleasant feeling, occurred to 
 myself lately. I had fallen accidentally asleep upon 
 an arm-chair, and was suddenly awaked by hearing, 
 as I supposed, two of my brothers talking and laugh- 
 ing at the door of the room, which stood wide open. 
 The impressions were so forcible, that I could not 
 believe them fallacious, yet I ascertained that they 
 were so entirely; for my brothers had gone to the 
 
 * Wallei-'s " Treatise on the Incubus or Niffht-Mare." 
 
94 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 country an hour before, and did not return for a 
 couple of hours afterwards. 
 
 There are few dreams involving many circum- 
 stances, which are, from beginning to end, perfectly 
 philosophical and harmonious : there is usually some 
 absurd violation of the laws of consistency, a want 
 of congruity, a deficiency in the due relations of 
 cause and effect, and a string of conclusions alto- 
 gether unwarranted by the premises. Mr. Hood, in 
 his " Whims and Oddities," gives a curious illus- 
 tration of the above facts. *' It occurred," says lie, 
 *' when I was on the eve of marriage, a season when, 
 if lovers sleep sparingly, they dream profusely. A 
 very brief slumber sufficed to carry me, in the 
 night coach, to Bogner. It had been concerted 
 between Honoria and myself that we should pass the 
 lioney-moon at some such place upon the coast. The 
 purpose of my solitary journey was to procure an 
 appropriate dwelling, and which, we had agreed 
 upon, should be a little pleasant house, with an 
 indispensable look-out upon the sea. I chose one 
 accordingly, a pretty villa, with bow windows, and 
 a prospect delightfully marine. The ocean nmrmur 
 sounded incessantly from the beach. A decent 
 elderly body, in decayed sables, undertook on her 
 part to promote the comfort of the occupants hy 
 
DREAMING. 95 
 
 every suitable attention, and, as she assured me, at 
 a very reasonable rate. So far the nocturnal faculty 
 had served me truly: a day dream could not have 
 proceeded more orderly: but, alas ! just here, when 
 the dwelling was selected, the sea-view was secured, 
 the rent agreed upon, when every thing was plaus- 
 ible, consistent, and rational, the incoherent fancy 
 crept in, and confounded all — by marrying me to 
 the old woman of the house !" 
 
 There are no limits to the extravagancies of those 
 visions sometimes called into birth by the vivid 
 exercise of the imagination. Contrasted with them, 
 the wildest fictions of Rabelais, Ariosto, or Dante, 
 sink into absolute probabilities. 1 remember of 
 dreaming on one occasion that I possessed ubiquity, 
 twenty resemblances of myself appearing in as many 
 different places, in the same room ; and each being 
 so thoroughly possessed by my own mind, that I 
 could not ascertain which of them was myself, and 
 which my double, &c. On this occasion, fancy so 
 far travelled into the regions of absurdity, that I 
 conceived myself riding upon my own back — one of 
 the resemblances being mounted upon another, and 
 both animated with the soul appertaining to myself, 
 in such a manner that I knew not whether I was the 
 carrier or the carried. At another time, I dreamed 
 
96 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 that I was converted into a niiglity pillar of stone, 
 which reared its head in the midst of a desert, where 
 it stood for ages, till generation after generation 
 melted away before it. Even in this state, though 
 unconscious of possessing any organs of sense, or 
 being else than a mass of lifeless stone, I saw every 
 object around — the mountains growing bald with 
 age — the forest trees drooping in decay; and I heard 
 whateversoundsnature is in the custom of producing, 
 such as the thunder-peal breaking over my naked 
 head, the winds howling past me, or the ceaseless 
 murmur of streams. At last I also waxed old, and 
 began to crumble into dust, while the moss and ivy 
 accumulated upon mo, and stamped me with the 
 aspect of hoar antiquity. Tlie first of these visions 
 may have arisen from reading Hoffman's " Devil's 
 Elixir," where there is an account of a man who 
 supposed he had a double, or, in otlier words, was 
 botli himself and not liimself ; and the second had 
 perh.ips its origin in tlie Heathen Mythology, a 
 subject to wliich I am extremely partial, and whicli 
 abounds in stories of metamorphosis. 
 
 Such dreams as occur in a state of drunken- 
 ness are remarkable for their extravagance. P^xag- 
 gerjition beyond limits is a very general attendant 
 upon them ; and they are usually of a more airy 
 
DREAMING. 97 
 
 and fugitive character than those proceeding from 
 almost any other source. The person seems as if 
 he possessed unusual lightness, and could mount 
 into the air, or float upon the clouds, while every 
 object around him reels and staggers with emotion. 
 But of all dreams, there are none which, for unli- 
 mited wildness, equal those produced by narcotics. 
 An eminent artist, under the influence of opium, 
 fancied the ghastly figures in Holbein's " Dance of 
 Death" to become vivified — each grim skeleton 
 being endowed with life and motion, and dancing 
 and grinning with an aspect of hideous reality. The 
 <' English Opium Eater," in his " Confessions," has 
 given a great variety of eloquent and appalling 
 descriptions of the eff*ects produced by this drug 
 upon the imagination during sleep. Listen to one 
 of them : — 
 
 " Southern Asia is, and has been for thousands of 
 years, the part of the earth most swarming with 
 human life ; the great officina gentium. Man is a 
 weed in those regions. The vast empires, also, into 
 which the enormous population of Asia has always 
 been cast, give a farther sublimity to the feelings 
 associated with all Oriental names or images. In 
 China, over and above what it has in common with 
 the rest of Southern Asia, I am terrified by the 
 
 F 
 
1)8 rnii.osoPHY of siffp. 
 
 modes of life, by the manners, ami tlie barrier of 
 utter abhorrence and want of sympathy placed 
 between us by feelings deeper than 1 can analyze. 
 I eould sooner live witli lunatics or brute animals. 
 All this, and much more than I can say, or have 
 time to say, the reader must enter into before he 
 can comprehend the unimaginable horror which 
 these dreams of Oriental imagery and mythological 
 tortures impressed upon me. Under the connecting 
 feeling of tropical heat and vertical sunlights, 1 
 brought together all creatures, birds, beasts, reptiles, 
 all trees and plants, usages and appearances, that 
 are found in all tropical regions, and assembled 
 them together in China or Indostan. From kindred 
 feelings I soon brought Kgvpt and all her gods under 
 the same law. 1 was stared at, hooted at, grinned 
 at, chattered at, by monkeys, by paroquets, by 
 cockatoos. 1 ran into pagodas : and was fixed for 
 centuries at the summit, or in the secret rooms; I 
 was the idol ; I was the priest ; 1 was worshipped ; 
 I was sacrificed. I fled from the wrath of Hrama 
 through all the forests of Asia: Vishnu hated me: 
 Sceva laid in wait for me. I came suddenly upon 
 Isis and Osiris: 1 had done a deed, they saiti, which 
 the ibis and the crocodile trembled at. I was 
 buried for a thousand vears, in stone coftins, with 
 
DREAMING. 99 
 
 mummies and sphinxes, in narrow chambers, at the 
 heart of eternal pyramids. I was kissed, with can- 
 cerous kisses, by crocodiles, and laid confounded 
 with all unutterable slimy things, amongst reeds 
 and Nilotic mud." 
 
 Again : " Hitherto the human face had mixed 
 often in my dreams, but not so despotically, nor 
 with any special power of tormenting. But now 
 that which I have called the tyranny of the human 
 face began to unfold itself. Perhaps some part of 
 my London life might be answerable for this. Be 
 tliat as it may, now it was that, upon the rocking 
 waters of the ocean, the human face began to appear; 
 the sea appeared paved with innumerable faces, 
 upturned to the heavens: faces imploring, wrathful, 
 despairing, surged upwards by thousands, by my- 
 riads, by generations, by centuries : — my agitation 
 was infinite — my mind tossed and surged with the 
 ocean." 
 
 I have already spoken of the analogy subsisting 
 between dreaming and insanity, and shall now men- 
 tion a circumstance which occurs in both states, and 
 points out a very marked similitude of mental con- 
 dition. The same thing also occasionally, or rather 
 frequently, takes place in drunkenness, which is, to 
 all intents and purposes, a temporary paroxysm of 
 
100 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 madness. It often happens, for instance, that such 
 objects or persons as we have seen before and are 
 familiar with, become utterly changed in dreams, 
 and bear not the slightest resemblance to their real 
 aspect. It might be thought that such a circum- 
 stance would so completely annihilate their identity 
 as to prevent us from believing them to be what, 
 by us, they are conceived; but such is not the case. 
 We never doubt that the particular object or per- 
 son presented to our eyes appears in its true charac- 
 ter. In illustration of this fact, I may mention, 
 that I lately visited the magnificent palace of Ver- 
 sailles in a dream, but that deserted abode of kings 
 stood not before me as when I have gazed upon it 
 broad awake ; it was not only magnified beyond 
 even its stupendous dimensions, and its countless 
 splendours immeasurably increased, but the very 
 aspect itself of the mighty pile was changed ; and 
 instead of stretching its huge Corinthian front along 
 the entire breadtli of an elaborate and richly fan- 
 tastic garden, adorned to profusion with alcoves, 
 fountains, waterfalls, statues, and terraces, it stood 
 alone in a boundless wilderness — an immense archi- 
 tectural creation of the Gothic ages, with a hundred 
 spires and ten thousand minarets sprouting up and 
 piercing with their pointed pinnacles the sky. The 
 
DREAMING. 101 
 
 wliole was as diflPerent as possible from the reality, 
 but this never once occurred to my mind; and, while 
 gazing upon the visionary fabric, I never doubted 
 for an instant that it then appeared as it had ever 
 done, and was in no degree different from what I 
 had often previously beheld. 
 
 Another dream I shall relate in illustration of 
 this point. It was related to me by a young lady, 
 and, independent of its illustrative value, is w^ell 
 worthy of being preserved as a specimen of fine 
 imagination — " I dreamed," said she, " that I stood 
 alone upon the brink of a dreadful precipice, at the 
 bottom of which rolled a great river. While gaz- 
 ing awe-struck upon the gulf below, some one 
 from behind laid a hand upon my shoulder, and, on 
 looking back, I saw a tall, venerable figure with a 
 long, flowing silvery beard, and clothed in white 
 garments, whom I at once knew to be the Saviour 
 of the World. ' Do you see,' he inquired, * the 
 great river that washes the foundation of the rock 
 upon which you now stand? I shall dry it up, so that 
 not a drop of its waters shall remain, and all the 
 fishes that are in it shall perish.' He then waved 
 his hand, and the river was instantly dried up; and 
 I saw the fishes gasping and writhing in the chan- 
 nel, where they all straightway died. ' Now,' said 
 
102 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 he, ' the river is dried up and the fishes are dead ; 
 but to give you a further testimony of my power, I 
 shall bring back the flood, and every creature that 
 was wont to inhabit it shall live again.' And he 
 waved his hand a second time, and the river was 
 instantly restored, its dry bed filled with volumes 
 of water, and all the dead fishes brought back unto 
 life. On looking round to express to him my 
 astonishment at those extraordinary miracles, and 
 to fall down and worship him, he was gone : and I 
 stood by myself upon the precipice, gazing with 
 astonishment at the river which rolled a thousand 
 feet beneath me." In this fine vision, the differ- 
 ence between the aspect of Christ as ho appeared 
 in it, and as he is represented in the Sacred Writ- 
 ings, as well as in paintings, did not suggest itself 
 to the mind of the dreamer, lie came in the guise 
 of an aged man, which is diametrically opposite to 
 our hahitual impressions of his aspect. If it be 
 asked what produces such diftVrences between the 
 reality and the representation. I apprehend we must 
 refer it to some sudden second dr«'ani or flash of 
 thought breaking in upon the first and confusing its 
 character. For instance, 1 have a dream of an 
 immense Gothic pile, when something about Ver- 
 sailles, somehow, occurs to mv nuiid, and this I 
 
DREAMING. 103 
 
 immediately associate with the object before me. 
 The lady has the idea of an old man in her dream, 
 and the thought of Christ happening to come across 
 her at the instant, she identifies it involuntarily 
 with the object of her vision. There is yet another 
 explanation of the latter. The old man has the 
 power of working a great miracle ; so had Christ, 
 and she is thus led to confound the two together. 
 She, it is true, imagines she knows the old man at 
 once to be the Saviour, without any previous inti- 
 mation of his miraculous gifts ; but this, very possi- 
 bly, may be a mistake ; and the knowledge which 
 she only acquires after witnessing his power, she 
 may, by the confusion attendant on dreams, suppose 
 to have occurred to her in the first instance. These 
 facts, combined with the dormant state of the re- 
 flecting faculties, which do not rectify the erroneous 
 impressions, render the explanation of such dreams 
 sufficiently easy, however puzzling, and unaccount- 
 able at first sight. 
 
 In some cases, the illusion is not merely confined 
 to sleep, but extends itself to the waking state. To 
 illustrate this, I may state the following circum- 
 stance ; — Some years ago, my impressions concern- 
 ing the aspect and localities of Inverness, were 
 strangely confused by a dream which I had of that 
 
104 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 town taking so strong a hold upon my fancy as to be 
 mistaken for a reality. I had been there before, and 
 was perfectly familiar with the appearance of the 
 town, but this was presented in so different a light, 
 and with so much force by the dream, that I, at last, 
 became unable to say which of the two aspects was 
 the real one. Indeed, the visionary panorama exhi- 
 bited to my mind, took the strongest hold upon 
 it ; and I rather felt inclined to believe that this 
 was the veritable appearance of the town, and that 
 the one which I had actually beheld, was merely the 
 illusion of the dream. This uncertainty continued 
 for several years, till, being again in that quarter, I 
 satisfied myself on the real state of the case. On 
 this occasion, the dream must have occurred to my 
 mind some time after it happened, and taken such 
 a firm hold upon it as to dethrone the reality, and 
 take its place. I remember distinctly of fancying 
 that the little woody hill of Tomnahurich was in 
 the centre of the town, although it stands at some 
 distance from it ; that the principal steeple was on 
 the opposite side of the street to that on which it 
 stands ; and that the great mountain of Ben- Wevis, 
 many miles off, was in the immediate neighbour- 
 hood. 
 
 The power of imagination is perhaps never so 
 
DREAMING. 105 
 
 vividly displayed, as in those dreams which haunt 
 the guilty mind. When any crime of an infamous 
 character has been perpetrated, and when the person 
 is not so utterly hardened as to be insensible of his 
 iniquity, the wide storehouse of retributive ven- 
 geance is opened up, and its appalling horrors 
 poured upon him. In vain does he endeavour to 
 expel the dreadful remembrance of his deeds, and 
 bury them in forgetfulness : from the abyss of slum- 
 ber they start forth, as the vampyres start from their 
 sepulchres, and hover around him like the furies that 
 pursued the footsteps of Orestes ; — while the voice 
 of conscience stuns his ears with murmurs of judg- 
 ment and eternity. Such is the punishment reserved 
 for the guilty in sleep. During the busy stir of 
 active existence, they may contrive to evade the 
 memory of their wickedness — to silence the whispers 
 of the " still small voice" within them, and cheat 
 themselves with a semblance of happiness ; but when 
 their heads are laid upon the pillow, the flimsy veil 
 which hung between them and crime, melts away 
 like an illusive vapour, and displays the latter in 
 naked and horrid deformity. Then, in the silence 
 of night, the " still small voice" is heard like an echo 
 from the tomb ; then, a crowd of doleful remem- 
 brances rush in upon the criminal, no longer to be 
 p2 
 
106 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 debarred from visiting the depths of his spirit ; and 
 when dreams succeed to such broken and miserable 
 repose, it is only to aggravate his previous horrors, 
 and present them in a character of still more over- 
 whelming dread.* 
 
 " Though thy slumber may be deep, 
 
 Yet thy spirit shall not sleep ; 
 
 There are shades which will not vanish, 
 
 There are thoughts thou canst not banish ; 
 
 By a power to thee un]inown, 
 
 Thou canst never be alone ; 
 
 Thou art wrapt as with a shroud, 
 
 Thou art gatheied in a cloud ; 
 
 And for ever shalt thou dwell 
 
 In the spirit of this spell." 
 
 • " No fiction of romance presents so awful a picture of the 
 ideal tyrant as that of Caligula by Suetonius. His palace — 
 radiant with purple and gold, but murder every-where lurking 
 beneath flowers ; his smiles and echoing laughter, masking (yet 
 hardly meant to mask) his foul treachery of heart ; his hideous 
 and tumultuous dreams; his baflled sleep, and his sleeplesn 
 nights, compose the picture of an iEschylus. ^Vhat a master's 
 sketch lies in those few lines : — ' Incitabatur insomnio maxime ; 
 neque enim plus tribus horis nocturnis quioscebat ; ac ne his 
 placitia quiete, at pavida miris rerum imnginibus: ut qui inter 
 ceteras pelagi quondam speciem colloquentem secum vidore visus 
 sit. Ideoque magna parte noctis, vigiliiF cubandique tirdio, nunc 
 tore residens, nunc per longissimas porticus vagus, invocare 
 idcntidem atque exspectare lucem consueverat ;' — i.e. But above 
 all, he was tormented with nervous irritation, by sleeplessness ; 
 for be enjoyed not more than three hours of nocturnal report- ; 
 
DREAMING. 107 
 
 Such are the principal phenomena of dreams ; 
 and from them it will naturally be deduced, that 
 dreaming may occur under a great variety of cir- 
 cumstances ; that it may result from the actual state 
 of the body, or mind previous to falling asleep ; 
 or exist as a train of emotions which can be re- 
 ferred to no apparent external cause. The form- 
 it assumes are also as various as the causes giving 
 rise to it, and much more striking in their na- 
 ture. In dreams, imagination unfolds, most gor- 
 geously, the ample stores of its richly decorated 
 empire ; and in proportion to the splendour of that 
 faculty in any individual, are the visions which 
 pass before him in sleep. But even the most 
 dull and passionless, while under the dreaming 
 influence, frequently enjoy a temporary inspira- 
 tion : their torpid faculties are aroused from the 
 
 nor even these in pure, untroubled rest, but agitated by phan- 
 tasmata of portentous augury ; as, for example, upon one oc- 
 casion he fancied that he saw the sea, under some definite im- 
 personation, conversing with himself. Hence it was, and from 
 this incapacity of sleeping, and from weariness of lying awake, 
 that he had fallen into habits of ranging all the night long 
 through the palace, sometimes throwing himself on a couch, 
 sometimes wandering along the vast corridors— watching for 
 the earliest dawn, and anxiously invoking its approach." 
 
 Blackwood's Magazine, vol. xxxiii. p. 69, 
 
108 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 benumbing spell which hung over them in the 
 waking state, and lighted up with the Promethean 
 fire of genius and romance ; the prose of their frigid 
 spirits is converted into magnificent poetry ; the 
 atmosphere around them peopled with new and 
 unheard-of imagery ; and they walk in a region to 
 which the proudest flights of their limited energies 
 could never otherwise have attained. 
 
 I shall conclude this chapter with a few words 
 on the management of dreams. 
 
 When dreams are of a pleasing character, no one 
 cares any tiling about their removal: it is only when 
 they get distressing and threaten to injure the 
 health of the individual, by frequent recurrence, that 
 tliis becomes an important object. When dreams 
 assume tlie character of night-mare, they must be 
 managed according to the metliods laid down for the 
 cure of that afPection. In all cases, the condition 
 of the digestive organs must be attended to, .is 
 any disordered state of these parts is apt to induce 
 visions of a very painful character. For this pur- 
 pose, mild laxatives may become useful ; and if the 
 person is subject to heiirtburn, he should use a little 
 magnesia, chalk, or carbonate of soda, occasionally. 
 Attention, also, must be paid to the diet ; and as 
 suppers, with some people, liave a tendency to 
 
DREAMING. 109 
 
 generate dreams of all kinds, these meals should, in 
 such cases, be carefully avoided. At the same time, 
 great care should be taken not to brood over any 
 subject upon lying down, but to dispel, as soon as 
 possible, all intrusive ideas, especially if they are of 
 a painful nature. If there is any unpleasant cir- 
 cumstance, such as hardness, irregularity, &c., 
 connected with the bed, which tends to affect sleep, 
 and thus induce dreams, it must be removed. 
 Late reading, the use of tea, or coffee shortly before 
 going to rest, or any thing which may stimulate the 
 brain ought likewise to be avoided. 
 
 If dreaming seems to arise from any fulness of 
 the system, blooding and low diet will sometimes 
 effect a cure. Mr. Stewart, the celebrated pedes- 
 trian traveller, states that he never dreamed when 
 he lived exclusively upon vegetable food. This, 
 however, may not hold true with every one. 
 ** When dreams arise from a diminution of cus- 
 tomary stimuli, a light supper, a draught of porter, 
 a glass of wine, or a doze of opium, generally prevent 
 them. Habitual noises, when suspended, should be 
 restored."* 
 
 In speaking of dreams representative of danger, 
 
 * Rush's Medical Inquiries. 
 
110 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 I may mention that there are instances of persons, 
 who, having determined to remember that the perils 
 seen in them are fallacious, have actually succeeded 
 in doing so, while asleep ; and have thus escaped 
 the terrors which those imaginary dangers would 
 otherwise have produced. Haller relates a case 
 of this kind ; and Mr. Dugald Stewart mentions 
 that the plan was successfully adopted by Dr. Reid 
 to get rid of the distress of those fearful visions by 
 which he was frequently annoyed. Whenever, in a 
 dream, the Doctor supposed himself on the brink of 
 a precipice, or any other dangerous situation it was 
 his custom to throw himself over, and thus destroy 
 the illusion. Dr. Beattie also relates, that at one 
 time he found himself in a dangerous situation upon 
 the parapet of a bridge. Reflecting that he was 
 not subject to pranks of this nature, he began to 
 fancy that it might be a dream, and determined to 
 pitch himself over, with the conviction that this 
 would restore him to his senses, which accordingly 
 took place.* I could never manage to carry this 
 
 • Those facts do not controvert what is olsewherp stated of a 
 person never beiiijj aware, diirifip the actual process of a dream, 
 that he was dreaming. While the above dreams were in pro- 
 gress, the individuals never doubted that they were dreaming: 
 the doubt, and the actions consequent upon it were after opera- 
 tions. 
 
DREAMING. Ill 
 
 system into effect in an ordinary dream of terror, 
 but I have sometimes succeeded in doing so during 
 an attack of night-mare ; and have thus very 
 materially mitigated the alarm produced by that 
 distressing sensation. This intellectual operation 
 may also be successfully employed to dispel the 
 lowness of spirits under which we often awake from 
 unpleasant visions, by teaching us that the depres- 
 sion we experience is merely the result of some 
 unnatural excitement in the brain. Indeed, all 
 kinds of melancholy, not based upon some obvious 
 foundation, might be mitigated or dispelled alto- 
 gether, could we only oppose our feelings with the 
 weapons of reason, and see things as they really 
 are, and not as they only seem to be. 
 
112 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 PROPHETIC POWER OF DREAMS. 
 
 Dreams have been looked upon by some, as 
 the occasional means of giving us an insight into 
 futurity. This opinion is so singularly unphiloso- 
 phical, that I would not have noticed it, were it not 
 advocated even by persons of good sense and educa- 
 tion. In ancient times, it was so common as to 
 obtain universal belief; and the greatest men placed 
 as implicit faith in it as in any fi\ct of which their 
 own senses afforded them cognizance. That it is 
 wholly erroneous, however, cannot be doubted ; and 
 any person who examines the nature of the human 
 mind, and the manner in which it operates in dreams, 
 must be convinced, that under no circumstances, 
 except those of a miracle, in whicli the ordinary 
 
PROPHETIC POWER OF DREAMS. 113 
 
 laws of nature are triumphed over, can such an 
 event ever take place. The Sacred Writings testify 
 that miracles were common in former times ; but 
 I believe no man of sane mind will contend that 
 they ever occur in the present state of the world. 
 In judging of things as now constituted, we must 
 discard supernatui*al influence altogether and esti- 
 mate events according to the general laws which 
 the Great Ruler of Nature has appointed for the 
 guidance of the universe. If, in the present day, it 
 were possible to conceive a suspension of these 
 laws, it must, as in former ages, be in reference to 
 some great event, and to serve some mighty pur- 
 pose connected with the general interests of the 
 human race ; but if faith is to be placed in modern 
 miracles, we must suppose that God suspended the 
 above laws for the most trivial and useless of pur- 
 poses — as, for instance, to intimate to a man that 
 his grandmother will die on a particular day, that 
 a favourite mare has broke her neck, that he has 
 received a present of a brace of game, or that a 
 certain friend will step in and take pot-luck with 
 him on the morrow ! 
 
 At the same time, there can be no doubt that 
 many circumstances occurring in our dreams have 
 been actually verified ; but this must be regarded as 
 
114 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 altogether the effect of chance ; and for one dream 
 which turns out to be true, at least a thousand are 
 false. In fact, it is only when they are of the former 
 description, that we take any notice of them ; the 
 latter are looked upon as mere idle vagaries, and 
 speedily forgotten. If a man, for instance, dreams 
 that he has gained a law-suit in which he is engaged, 
 and if this circumstance actually takes place, there 
 is nothing at all extraordinary in the coincidence : 
 his mind was full of the siibject, and, in sleep, 
 naturally resolved itself into that train of ideas in 
 which it was most deeply interested. Or if we 
 have a friend engaged in war, our fears for his 
 safety will lead us to dream of death or captivity, 
 and we may see him pent up in a hostile prison- 
 house, or lying dead upon the battle plain. And 
 should these melancholy catastrophes ensue we 
 call our vision to memory; and, in the excited state 
 of mind into which we are thrown, are apt to con- 
 sider it as a prophetic warning, indicative of dis- 
 aster. The following is a very good illustration of 
 this particular point. 
 
 Miss M , a young lady, a native of Ross- 
 shire, was deeply in love with an otBcer who ac- 
 companied Sir Jolm Moore in the Peninsular war. 
 The constant danger to which he was exposed, bad 
 
PROPHETIC POWER OF DREAMS. 115 
 
 an evident eifect upon her spirits. She became pale 
 and melancholy in perpetually brooding over his 
 fortunes ; and, in spite of all that reason could do, 
 felt a certain conviction, that when she last parted 
 vi^ith her lover, she had parted with him for ever 
 In vain was every scheme tried to dispel from her 
 mind the awful idea : in vain were all the sights 
 which opulence could command, unfolded before her 
 eyes. In the midst of pomp and gaiety, when music 
 and laughter echoed around her, she walked as a 
 pensive phantom, over whose head some dreadful 
 and mysterious influence hung. She was brought 
 by her affectionate parents to Edinburgh, and 
 introduced into all the gaiety of that metropolis, but 
 nothing could restore her, or banish from her mind 
 the insupportable load which oppressed it. The 
 song and the dance were tried in vain : they only 
 aggravated her distress, and made the bitterness of 
 despair more poignant. In a surprisingly short 
 period, her graceful form declined into all the 
 appalling characteristics of a fatal illness ; and she 
 seemed rapidly hastening to the grave, when a dream 
 confirmed the horrors she had long anticipated, 
 and gave the finishing stroke to her sorrows. One 
 night, after falling asleep, she imagined she saw her 
 lover, pale, bloody, and wounded in the breast, enter 
 
116 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 her apartment. He drew aside the curtains of tlie 
 bed, and with a look of the utmost mildness, in- 
 formed her that he had been slain in battle, desir- 
 ing her, at the same time, to comfort herself, and 
 not take his death too seriously to heart. It is 
 needless to say what influence this vision had upon 
 a mind so replete with woe. It withered it entirely, 
 and the unfortunate girl died a few days thereafter, 
 but not without desiring her parents to note down 
 the day of the month on which it happened, and see 
 if it would be confirmed, as she confidently declared 
 it would. Her anticipation was correct, for ac- 
 counts were shortly after received that the young 
 man was slain at the battle of Corunna, which was 
 fought on the very day, on the night of which his 
 mistress had beheld the vision. 
 
 This relation, wliich may be confidently relied 
 upon, is one of the most striking examples of 
 identity between the dream and the real circum- 
 stances with which I am acquainted, but it must be 
 looked upon as merely accidental. The lady's mind 
 was deeply interested in the fate of her lover, and 
 full of that event which she most deeply dreaded — 
 his death. The time of tliis occurrence, as coincid- 
 ing with litM' dream, is certainly curious ; but still 
 there is nothing in it whicli can justify us in refer- 
 
PROPHETIC POWER OF DREAMS. 11/ 
 
 ring it to any other origin than chance. The fol- 
 lowing events, which occurred to myself, in August 
 1821, are almost equally remarkable, and are im- 
 putable to the same fortuitous cause. 
 
 I was then in Caithness, when 1 dreamed that a 
 near relation of my own, residing three hundred 
 miles off, had suddenly died: and immediately 
 thereafter awoke in a state of inconceivable terror, 
 similar to that produced by a paroxysm of night- 
 mare. The same day, happening to be writing 
 home, I mentioned the circumstance in a half-jesting, 
 half- earnest way. To tell the truth, I was afraid 
 to be serious, lest I should be laughed at for putting 
 any faith in dreams. However, in the interval 
 between writing and receiving an answer, I remained 
 in a state of most unpleasant suspense. I felt a 
 presentiment that something dreadful had happened, 
 or would happen ; and although I could not help 
 blaming myself for a childish weakness in so feel- 
 ing, I was unable to get rid of the painful idea 
 which had taken such rooted possession of my 
 mind. Three days after sending away the letter, 
 what was my astonishment when I received one 
 written the day subsequent to mine, and stating 
 that the relative of whom I had dreamed, had been 
 struck with a fatal shock of palsy the day before — 
 
lis PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 viz. the very day on the morning of which 1 had 
 beheld the appearance in my dream ! My friends 
 received my letter two days after sending their own 
 away, and were naturally astonished at the circum- 
 stance. I may state that my relation was in perfect 
 health before the fatal event took place. It came 
 upon him like a thunderbolt, at a period when no 
 one could have the slightest anticipation of danger. 
 
 The following case will interest the reader, both 
 on its own account, and from the remarkable coin- 
 cidence between the dream and the succeeding 
 calamity ; but, like all other instances of the kind, 
 this also must be referred to chance. 
 
 " Being in company the other day, when the 
 conversation turned upon dreams, I related one, 
 which, as it happened to my own father, I can answer 
 for the perfect trnth of it. About the year 1731, 
 my father, Mr. I), of K , in the County of Cum- 
 berland, came to Edinburgh to attend the classes, 
 having the advantage of an uncle in the regiment 
 then in the Castle, and remained under the protec- 
 tion of his uncle and aunt, Major and Mrs. Griffiths, 
 during tiie winter. A\'hon spring arrived, Mr. D. 
 and three or four young grntltMnen from England, 
 (his intimates) made parties to visit all the neigh- 
 bouring places about Edinburgh, Roslin, Arthur's 
 
PROPHETIC POWER OF DREAMS. 119 
 
 Seat, Craig-Millar, &c., &c. Coming home one 
 evening from some of those places, Mr. D. said, 
 * We have made a party to go a-fishing to Inch- 
 Keith to-morrow, if the morning is fine, and have 
 bespoke our boat ; we shall be off at six ;' no objec- 
 tion being made, they separated for the night. 
 
 " Mrs. Griffiths had not been long asleep, till she 
 screamed out in the most violent agitated manner, 
 ' The boat is sinking ; save, oh, save them !' The 
 Major awaked her, and said, * Were you uneasy 
 about the fishing party?' — * Oh no,' said she, * I had 
 not once thought of it.' She then composed herself, 
 and soon fell asleep again : in about an hour, she 
 cried out in a dreadful fright, < I see the boat is 
 going down.' The Major again awoke her, and she 
 said, « It has been owing to the other dream I had ; 
 for I feel no uneasiness about it.' After some con- 
 versation, they both fell sound asleep, but no rest 
 could be obtained for her; in the most extreme 
 agony, she again screamed, * They are gone ; the 
 boat is sunk!' When the Major awakened her, 
 she said, * Now I cannot rest; Mr. I), must not go, 
 for I feel, should he go, I would be miserable till 
 his return; the thoughts of it would almost kill me.' 
 
 " She instantly arose, threw on her wrapping- 
 gown, went to his bed-side, for his room was next 
 
120 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 their own, and with great difficulty she got his 
 promise to remain at home. ' But what am I to 
 say to my young friends whom I was to meet at 
 Leith at six o'clock ?' ' With great truth you may 
 say your aunt is ill, for I am so at present ; con- 
 sider, you are an only son, under our protection, 
 and should any thing happen to you, it would be 
 my death.' Mr. D. immediately wrote a note to 
 his friends, saying he was prevented joining them, 
 and sent his servant with it to Leith. The morn- 
 ing came in most beautifully, and continued so till 
 three o'clock, when a violent storm arose, and in 
 an instant the boat, and all that were in it, went to 
 the bottom, and were never heard of, nor was any 
 part of it ever seen."* 
 
 Equally singular is the following case, from the 
 " Memoirs of Lady Fanshawe." 
 
 " My mother being sick to death of a fever, 
 three months after I was born, which was the occa- 
 sion she gave me suck no longer, her friends and 
 servants thought to all outward appearance she was 
 dead, and so lay almost two days and a niglit ; but 
 Dr. Winston coming to comfort my father, went into 
 my mother's room, and looking earnestly on her face, 
 
 • " Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine," vol. xix. p. 73. 
 
PROPHETIC POWER OF DREAMS. 121 
 
 said, ' She was so handsome, and now looks so lovely, 
 I cannot think she is dead ;' and suddenly took a 
 lancet out of his pocket, and with it cut the sole of 
 her foot, which bled. Upon this, he immediately 
 caused her to be laid upon the bed again, and to be 
 rubbed, and such means, as she came to life, and 
 opening her eyes, saw two of her kinswomen stand 
 by her, my Lady Knollys and my Lady Russell, 
 both with great wide sleeves, as the fashion then 
 was, and said, * Did not you promise me fifteen 
 years, and are you come again?' which they not 
 understanding, persuaded her to keep her spirits 
 quiet in that great weakness wherein she then was ; 
 but some hours after, she desired my father and 
 Dr. Howlsworth might be left alone with her, to 
 whom she said, * I will acquaint you, that during 
 the time of my trance I was in great quiet, but in a 
 place I could neither distinguish nor describe ; but 
 the sense of leaving my girl, who is dearer to me 
 than all my children, remained a trouble upon my 
 spirits. Suddenly I saw two by me, clothed in long 
 white garments, and methought I fell down upon my 
 face upon the dust ; and they asked why I was so 
 troubled in so great happiness. I replied, O let me 
 have the same grant given to Hezekiah, that I may 
 live fifteen years to see my daughter a woman : to 
 
 G 
 
122 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 which they answered. It is done : and then, at that 
 instant, I awoke out of my trance !' and Dr. Howls- 
 worth did there affirm, that that day she died made 
 just fifteen years from that time." 
 
 A sufficiently striking instance of such coinci- 
 dence occurs in the case of Dr. Donne, the meta- 
 physical poet; hut 1 helieve that, in this case, it was 
 a spectral illusion rather than a common dream. 
 Two days after he had arrived in Paris, he was 
 left alone in a room where he had heen dining 
 with Sir Robert Drury and a few companions. 
 " Sir Robert returned about an hour afterwards. 
 He found his friend in a state of ecstasy, and 
 so altered in his countenance, that he could not 
 look upon him without amazement. The doctor 
 was not able for some time to answer the question, 
 what Jiad It fallen him ? — but after a long and per- 
 plexed pause, at last said, ' I have seen a dreadful 
 vision since I saw you ; — I have seen my dear wife 
 pass twice by me through this room, with her hair 
 hanging about her shoulders, and a dead chiUl 
 in her arms. This I have seen since I saw you.' 
 To which Sir Robert answered, • Sure, Sir, you 
 have slept since I went out ; and this is the result 
 of some melancholy dream, which 1 desire you to 
 forget, for you are now awake.' Donne replied, 
 
PROPHETIC POWER OF DREAMS. 123 
 
 ' I cannot be more sure that I now live, than that 
 I have not slept since I saw you ; and am as sure 
 that at her second appearing she stopped, looked 
 me in the face and vanished.' "* It is certainly very 
 curious that Mrs. Donne, who was then in England, 
 was at that time sick in bed, and had been delivered 
 of a dead child, on the same day, and about the 
 same hour, that the vision occurred. There were 
 distressing circumstances in the marriage of Dr. 
 Donne which account for his mind being strongly 
 impressed with the image of his wife, to whom he 
 was exceedingly attached ; but these do not render 
 the coincidence above related less remarkable. 
 
 I do not doubt that the apparition of Julius 
 Csesar, which appeared to Brutus, and declared it 
 would meet him at Philippi, was either a dream or 
 a spectral illusion — probably the latter. Brutus, in 
 all likelihood, had some idea that the battle which 
 was to decide his fate would be fought at Philippi: 
 probably it was a good military position, which he 
 had fixed upon as a fit place to make a final stand ; 
 and he had done enough to Csesar to account for his 
 own mind being painfully and constantly engrossed 
 with the image of the assassinated Dictator. Hence 
 
 » Hibbert's Philosophy of Apparitions, p. 354. 
 
124 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 the verification of this supposed warning — hence 
 the easy explanation of a supposed supernatural 
 event. 
 
 At Newark-upon- Trent, a curious custom, founded 
 upon the preservation of Alderman Clay and his 
 family by a dream, has prevailed since the days of 
 Cromwell. On the 11th March, every year, penny- 
 loaves are given away to any one who chooses to 
 appear at the Town Hall and apply for them, in 
 commemoration of the Alderman's deliverance, 
 during the siege of Newark by the Parliamentary 
 forces. This gentleman, by will, dated lltb De- 
 cember, 1694, gave to the Mayor and Aldermen 
 one hundred pounds, the interest of which was to 
 be given to the Vicar yearly, on condition of his 
 preaching an annual sermon. Another hundred 
 pounds were also appropriated foe the behoof of 
 the poor, in the way above-mentioned. The origin 
 of this bequest is singular. During the bombard- 
 ment of Newark by Oliver Cromwell's forces, the 
 Alderman dreamed three nights successively that 
 his house had taken fire, which produced such a 
 vivid impression upon his mind, that he and his 
 family left it: and in a few days the circumstances 
 of his vision actually took place, by the house being 
 burned down by the besiegers. 
 
PROPHETIC POWER OF DREAMS. 125 
 
 Dr. Abercrombie relates the case of a gentleman 
 in Edinburgh, who was affected with an aneurism 
 of the popliteal artery, for which he was under the 
 care of two eminent surgeons. About two days 
 before the time appointed for the operation, his 
 wife dreamed that a change had taken place in the 
 disease, in consequence of which an operation would 
 not be required. " On examining the tumour in 
 the morning, the gentleman was astonished to find 
 that the pulsation had entirely ceased ; and, in short, 
 this turned out to be a spontaneous cure. To per- 
 sons not professional, it may be right to mention 
 that the cure of popliteal aneurism, without an 
 operation, is a very uncommon occurrence, not 
 happening, perhaps, in one out of numerous in- 
 stances, and never to be looked upon as probable 
 in any individual case. It is likely, however, that 
 the lady had heard of the possibility of such a ter- 
 mination, and that her anxiety had very naturally 
 embodied this into a dream : the fulfilment of it, at 
 the very time when the event took place, is cer- 
 tainly a very remarkable coincidence."* 
 
 Persons are said to have had the period of their 
 
 * Abercrombie's Inquiries concerning the Intellectual Powers, 
 p. 282, 1st edit. 
 
126 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 own death pointed out to them in dreams. I have 
 
 often heard the case of the late Mr. M. of D 
 
 related in support of this statement. It is certainly 
 worth telling, not on account of any supernatural 
 character belonging to it, but simply from the ex- 
 traordinary coincidence between the dream and the 
 subsequent event. This gentleman dreamed one 
 night that he was out riding, when he stopped at 
 an inn on the road-side for refreshment, where lie 
 saw several people whom he had known some years 
 before, but who were all dead. He was received 
 kindly by them, and desired to sit down and drink, 
 which he accordingly did. On quitting this strange 
 company, they exacted a promise from him that he 
 would visit them that day six weeks. This he pro- 
 mised faithfully to do ; and, bidding them farewell, 
 he rode homewards. Such was the substance of 
 his dream, which he related in a jocular way to his 
 friends, but thought no more about it, for he was a 
 person above all kind of superstition. The event, 
 however, was certainly curious enough, as well as 
 melancholy ; for on that very day six weeks on 
 which lie l>ad engaged to meet his friends at the 
 inn, he was killed in attempting to spring his horse 
 over a five-barred gate. The famous case of Lord 
 
PROPHETIC POWER OF DREAMS. 127 
 
 Lyttleton* is also cited as an example of a similar 
 kind, but with less show of reason, for this case is 
 now very generally supposed to be an imposition ; 
 and so will almost every other of the same kind, if 
 narrowly investigated. At the same time, I do not 
 mean to doubt that such an event, foretold in a 
 dream, may occasionally come to pass ; but I would 
 refer the whole to fortuituous coincidence. Men 
 dream, every now and then, that they will die on a 
 certain day, yet how seldom do we see those pre- 
 dictions fulfilled by the result ! In very delicate 
 people, indeed, such a visionary communication, by 
 acting fatally upon the mind, might be the means 
 of occasioning its own fulfilment. In such cases, it 
 has been customary for the friends of the individual 
 to put back the clock an hour or two, so as to let 
 the fatal period pass by without his being aware of 
 it ; and as soon as it was fairly passed, to inform 
 
 ♦ " Of late it has been said and published, that the unfortu- 
 nate nobleman had previously determined to take poison, and 
 of course, had it in his own power to ascertain the execution of the 
 prediction. It was, no doubt, singular that a man, who medi- 
 tated his exit from the world, should have chosen to play such 
 a trick upon his friends. But it is still more credible that a 
 whimsical man should do so wild a thing, than that a messenger 
 should be sent from the dead, to tell a libertine at what precise 
 hour he should expire." — Scott's Letters on Demonology, p. 361. 
 
128 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 him of the circumstance, and laugh liim out of his 
 apprehension. 
 
 There is another way in which the apparent ful- 
 filment of a dream may be brought about. A good 
 illustration in point is given by Mr. Combe. The 
 subject of it was one Scott, executed in 1823, at 
 Jedburgh, for murder. " It is stated in his life, that, 
 some years before the fatal event, he had dreamed 
 that he had committed a murder, and was greatly 
 impressed with the idea. He frequently spoke of 
 it, and recurred to it as something ominous, till at 
 last it was realized. The organ of Destructiveness 
 was large in his head, and so active that he was an 
 enthusiast in poaching, and prone to outrage and 
 violence in his habitual conduct. This activity of 
 the organ might take place during sleep, and then 
 it would inspire his mind with destructive feelings, 
 and the dream of murder would be the consequence. 
 From the great natural strength of the propensity, 
 he probably may have felt, wlien awake, an inward 
 tendency to this crime ; and, joining this and the 
 dream together, we can easily account for the 
 strong impression left by the latter on his mind."* 
 One method in which death may appear to be 
 
 * Combe's System of rhrenology, p. 511, 3d ediu 
 
PROPHETIC POWER OF DREAMS. 129 
 
 foretold is, by the accession of frightful visions 
 immediately before fatal illnesses. This, however, 
 goes for nothing- in the way of argument, for it was 
 the state of the system shortly before the attack 
 of disease which induced such dreams. According 
 to Silimachus, the epidemic fever which prevailed 
 at Rome was ushered in by attacks of night-mare ; 
 and Sylvius Deleboe, who describes the epidemic 
 which raged at Leyden in 1669, states, that pre- 
 vious to each paroxysm of the fever, the patient 
 fell asleep, and suffered a severe attack of night- 
 mare. The vulgar belief, therefore, that unpleasant 
 dreams are ominous of death, is not destitute of 
 foundation ; but the cause why they should be so 
 is perfectly natural. It is the incipient disease 
 which produces the dreams, and the fatal event 
 which often follows, is a natural consequence of that 
 disease. 
 
 It is undoubtedly owing to the faculty possessed 
 by sleep, of renewing long-forgotten ideas, that 
 persons have had important facts communicated 
 to them in dreams. There have been instances, 
 for example, where valuable documents, sums of 
 money, &c., liave been concealed, and where either 
 the person who secreted them, or he who had 
 the place of their concealment communicated to 
 g2 
 
130 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP, 
 
 him, may have forgotten every thing therewith 
 connected. He may then torture his mind in vain, 
 during the waking state, to recollect the event ; 
 and it may be brought to his remembrance, at once, 
 in a dream. In such cases an apparition is gener- 
 ally the medium through which the seemingly 
 mysterious knowledge is communicated. The ima- 
 gination conjures up some phantom that discloses the 
 secret ; which circumstance, proceeding, in reality, 
 from a simple operation of the mind, is straightway 
 converted into something supernatural, and invested 
 with all the attributes of wonder and awe. When 
 such spectral forms appear, and communicate some 
 fact which turns out to be founded on truth, the 
 person is not always aware tliat tlie whole occurred 
 in a dream, but often fancies that he was broad 
 awake when the apparition appeared to him and 
 communicated the particuhir intelligence. When 
 we hear, therefore, of hidden treasures, wills, &c., 
 being disclosed in such a manner, we are not 
 always to scout the report as false. The «pectre 
 divulging the intelligence was certainly the mere 
 chimera of the dreamer's brain, but the facts 
 revealed, apparently by this phantom, may, from 
 the above circumstance, be substantially true. The 
 following curious case is strikingly in point, and is 
 
PROPHETIC POWER OF DREAMS. 131 
 
 given by Sir Walter Scott in his notes to the new 
 edition of " The Antiquary." 
 
 " Mr. R d of Bowland, a gentleman of landed 
 
 property in the Vale of Gala, was prosecuted for a 
 very considerable sum, the accumulated arrears of 
 teind, (or tithe,) for which he was said to be 
 indebted to a noble family, the titulars, (lay impro- 
 priators of the tithes). Mr. R d was strongly 
 
 impressed with the belief that his father had, by a 
 form of process peculiar to the law of Scotland, 
 purchased these lands from the titular, and, there- 
 fore, that the present prosecution was groundless. 
 But after an industrious search among his father's 
 papers, an investigation of the public records, and 
 a careful inquiry among all persons who had trans- 
 acted law business for his father, no evidence could 
 be recovered to support his defence. The period 
 was now near at hand when he conceived the loss 
 of his law suit to be inevitable, and he had formed 
 the determination to ride to Edinburgh next day, 
 and make the best bargain he could in the way of 
 compromise. He went to bed with this resolution, 
 and, with all the circumstances of the case floating 
 upon his mind, had a dream to the following pur- 
 pose. His father, who had been many years dead, 
 appeared to him, he thought, and asked him why 
 
132 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 he was disturbed in his mind. In dreams, men are 
 
 not surprised at such apparitions. Mr. R d 
 
 thought that he informed his father of the cause of 
 his distress, adding, that the payment of a consider- 
 able sum of money was the more unpleasant to him, 
 because he had a strong consciousness that it was 
 not due, though he was unable to recover any 
 evidence in support of his belief. ' You are right, 
 my son,' replied the paternal shade ; ' I did acquire 
 right to these teinds, for payment of which you are 
 now prosecuted. The papers relating to the trans- 
 action are in the hands of Mr. , a writer, 
 
 (or attorney,) who is now retired from professional 
 business, and resides at Inveresk, near Edinburgh. 
 He was a person whom I employed on that occasion 
 for a particular reason, but who never on any other 
 occasion transacted business on my account. It is 
 
 very possible,' pursued the vision, ' that Mr. . 
 
 may have forgotten a matter which is now of a very 
 old date ; but you may call it to his recollection by 
 this token, that when I came to pay his account, 
 there was difficulty in getting change for a Portugal 
 piece of gold, and we were forced to drink out the 
 balance at a tavern.' 
 
 " Mr. R d awoke in the morning with all 
 
 the words of the vision imprinted on his mind, and 
 
PROPHETIC POWER OF DREAMS. 133 
 
 thought it worth while to walk across the country 
 to Inveresk, instead of going straight to Edinburgh. 
 When he came there, he waited on the gentleman 
 mentioned in the dream, a very old man. Without 
 saying any thing of the vision he inquired whether 
 he i-emembered having conducted such a matter for 
 his deceased father. The old gentleman could not 
 at first bring the circumstance to his recollection, 
 but on mention of the Portugal piece of gold, the 
 whole returned upon his memory ; he made an im- 
 mediate search for the papers, and recovered them 
 
 — so that Mr. R d carried to Edinburgh the 
 
 documents necessary to gain the cause which he 
 was on the verge of losing. 
 
 " The author has often heard this story told by 
 persons who had the best access to know the facts, 
 who were not likely themselves to be deceived, and 
 were certainly incapable of deception. He cannot, 
 therefore, refuse to give it credit, however extra- 
 ordinary the circumstances may appear. The cir- 
 cumstantial character of the information given in 
 the dream, takes it out of the general class of 
 impressions of the kind, which are occasioned by 
 the fortuitous coincidence of actual events with our 
 sleeping thoughts. On the other hand, few will 
 suppose that the laws of nature were suspended. 
 
134 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 and a special communication from the dead to the 
 living permitted, for the purpose of saving Mr. 
 
 R d a certain number of hundred pounds. The 
 
 author's theory is, that the dream was only the 
 
 recapitulation of information which Mr. R d 
 
 had really received from his father while in life, 
 but which at first he merely recalled as a general 
 impression that the claim was settled. It is not 
 uncommon for persons to recover, during sleep, the 
 thread of ideas which they have lost during their 
 waking hours. It may be added, that this remark- 
 able circumstance was attended with bad conse- 
 quences to Mr. R d ; whose health and spirits 
 
 were afterwards impaired, by the attention which 
 he thought himself obliged to pay to the visions of 
 the night." This result is a melancholy proof of 
 the effect sometimes produced by ignorance of 
 
 natural laws. Had Mr. R d been acquainted 
 
 with the nature of the brain, and of the manner in 
 which it is affected in sleep, the circumstance above 
 related would have given liim no annoyance. He 
 would have traced tlie whole chain of events to 
 their true source ; but being ignorant of this, he 
 became the victim of superstition, and his life was 
 rendered miserable. 
 
NIGHT-MARE. 135 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 NIGHT-MARE. 
 
 NiGHT-MARE may be defined a painful dream, 
 accompanied with difficult respiratory action, and a 
 torpor in the powers of volition. The reflecting 
 organs are generally more or less awake ; and, in 
 this respect, night-mare differs from simple dream- 
 ing where they are mostly quiescent. 
 
 This affection, the Ephialtes of the Greeks, 
 and Incubus of the Romans, is one of the most 
 distressing to which human nature is subject. 
 Imagination cannot conceive the horrors it fre- 
 quently gives rise to, or language describe them in 
 adequate terms. They are a thousand times more 
 frightful than the visions conjured up by necro- 
 mancy or diablerie; and far transcend every thing 
 
13G PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 in history or romance, from the fable of the writh- 
 ing and asp- encircled Laocoon to Dante's appalling 
 picture of Ugolino and his famished offspring, or 
 the hidden tortures of the Spanish Inquisition. 
 The whole mind, during the paroxysm, is wrought 
 up to a pitch of unutterable despair: a spell is laid 
 upon the faculties, which freezes them into inac- 
 tion ; and the wretched victim feels as if pent alive 
 in his coffin, or overpowered by resistless and im- 
 mitigable pressure. 
 
 The modifications which night-mare assumes are 
 infinite ; but one passion is almost never absent — 
 that of utter and incomprehensible dread. Some- 
 times the sufferer is buried beneath overwhelming 
 rocks, which cru^ll him on all sidos, but still leave 
 him with a miserable consciousness of his situation. 
 Sometimes he is involved in the coils of a horrid, 
 slimy monster, whose eyes have the phosphorescent 
 glare of the sepulchre, and whose breath is poison- 
 ous as the mar«;h of Lerna. Every thing horribh*. 
 disgusting, or terrific in the physical or moral 
 world, is brought before him in fearful array; he is 
 hissed at by serpents, tortured by demons, stunned 
 by the hollow voices and cold touch of apparitions. 
 A mighty stone is hiid upon his breast, and crushes 
 him to the ground in helpless ngony: mad })ulls and 
 
NIGHT-MARE. 137 
 
 tigers pursue his palsied footsteps : the unearthly- 
 shrieks and gibberish of hags, witches and fiends 
 float around him. In whatever situation he may be 
 placed, he feels superlatively wretched: he is Ixion 
 working for ages at his wheel ; he is Sisyphus 
 rolling his eternal stone : he is stretched upon the 
 iron bed of Procrustes : he is prostrated by inevi- 
 table destiny beneath the approaching wheels of the 
 car of Juggernaut. At one moment, he may have 
 the consciousness of a malignant demon being at his 
 side : then, to shun the sight of so appalling an ob- 
 ject, he will close his eyes, but still the fearful being 
 makes its presence known ; for its icy breath is felt 
 diifusing itself over his visage, and he knows that 
 he is face to face with a fiend. Then, if he look 
 up, he beholds horrid eyes glaring upon him, and 
 an aspect of hell grinning at him with even more 
 than hellish malice. Or, he may have the idea of 
 a monstrous hag squatted upon his breast — mute, 
 motionless and malignant; an incarnation of the 
 Evil Spirit — whose intolerable weight crushes the 
 breath out of his body, and whose fixed, deadly 
 incessant stare petrifies him with horror and makes 
 his very existence insufferable. 
 
 In every instance, there is a sense of oppression 
 and helplessness; and the extent to which these are 
 
138 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 carried, varies according to the violence of the 
 paroxysm. The individual never feels himself a 
 free agent; on the contrary, he is spell-bound by 
 some enchantment, and remains an unresisting 
 victim for malice to work its will upon. He can 
 neither breathe, nor walk, nor run with his wonted 
 facility. If pursued by any imminent danger, he 
 can hardly drag one limb after another; if engaged 
 in combat, his blows are utterly ineffective; if in- 
 volved in the fangs of any animal, or in the grasp 
 of an enemy, extrication is impossible. He strug- 
 gles, he pants, he toils, but it is all in vain : his 
 muscles are rebels to the will, and refuse to obey 
 its calls. In no case is there a sense of complete 
 freedom: the benumbing stupor never departs from 
 him ; and liis wliole being is locked up in one 
 mighty spasm. Sometimes he is forcing himself 
 through an aperture too small for the reception of 
 his body, and is tliere arrested and tortured by tlie 
 pangs of suft'ocation produced by the pressure tt> 
 which he is exposed ; or he loses his way in a nar- 
 row lal)yrintb, and gets involved in its contracted 
 and inextricable mazes; or he is entombed alive in 
 a sepulchre beside the mouldering dead. There 
 is, in most cases, an intense reality in all that he 
 sees, or hears, or feels. The aspects of the hideous 
 
NIGHT-MARE. 139 
 
 phantoms which harass his imagination are bold 
 and defined ; the sounds which greet his ear appal- 
 lingly distinct; and when any dimness or confusion 
 of imagery does prevail, it is of the most fearful 
 kind, leaving nothing but dreary and miserable im- 
 pressions behind it. 
 
 Much of the horror experienced in night-mare 
 will depend upon the natural activity of the ima- 
 gination, upon the condition of the body, cind upon 
 the state of mental exertion before going to 
 sleep. If, for instance, we have been engaged in 
 the perusal of such works as " The Monk," " The 
 Mysteries of Udolpho," or " Satan's Invisible World 
 Discovered ;" and if an attack of night-mare should 
 supervene, it will be aggravated into sevenfold 
 horror by the spectral phantoms with which our 
 minds have been thereby filled. We will enter into 
 all the fearful mysteries of these writings, which, 
 instead of being mitigated by slumber, acquire an 
 intensity which they never could have possessed in 
 the waking state. The apparitions of murdered 
 victims, like the form of Banquo, which wrung the 
 guilty conscience of Macbeth, will stalk before us ; 
 we are surrounded by sheeted ghosts, which glare 
 upon us with their cold sepulchral eyes ; our habi- 
 tation is among the vaults of ancient cathedrals, or 
 
140 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 among the dung-eons of ruined monasteries, and our 
 companions are the dead. 
 
 At other times, an association of ludicrous images 
 passes through the mind : every thing becomes in- 
 congruous, ridiculous and absurd. But even in the 
 midst of such preposterous fancies, the passion of 
 mirth is never for one moment excited : the same 
 blank despair, the same freezing inertia^ the same 
 stifling torture, still harass us ; and so far from 
 being . amused by the laughable drama enacting 
 before us, we behold it with sensations of undefined 
 horror and disgust. 
 
 In general, during an attack, the person has the 
 consciousness of an utter inability to express his 
 horror by cries. He feels that his voice is half 
 choked by impending suffocation, and that any 
 exertion of it, farther than a deep sigh or groan, is 
 impossible. Sometimes, however, he conceives that 
 he is bellowing with prodigious energy, and won- 
 ders that tlie household are not alarmed by \\\x 
 noise. But this is an illusion: those outcries which 
 he fancies himself uttering, are merely obscure 
 moans, forced with dithrulty and pain from the 
 stifled penetralia of Iiis bosom. 
 
 Night-mare takes place under various circum- 
 stances. Sometimes, from a state of perfect sleep. 
 
NIGHT-MARE. 141 
 
 we glide into it, and feel ourselves unconsciously 
 overtaken by its attendant horrors: at other times, 
 Ave experience it stealing upon us like a thief at a 
 period when we are all but awake, and aware of its 
 approach. We have then our senses about us, 
 only, perhaps, a little deadened and confused by 
 incipient slumber; and we feel the gradual advance 
 of the fiend, without arousing ourselves, and scaring 
 him away, although we appear to possess the full 
 ability of doing so. Some persons, immediately 
 previous to an attack, have sensations of vertigo 
 and ringing in the ears. 
 
 At one time, night-mare melts into unbroken 
 sleep, or pleasing dreams ; and we awake in the 
 morning with merely the remembrance of having 
 had one of its attacks : at another, it arouses us 
 by its violence, and we start out of it with a con- 
 vulsive shudder. At the moment of throwing off 
 the fit, we seem to turn round upon the side with 
 a mighty effort, as if from beneath the pressure of 
 a superincumbent weight ; and, the more thoroughly 
 to awake ourselves, we generally kick violently, 
 beat the breast, rise up in bed, and cry out once 
 or twice. As soon as we are able to exercise 
 the voice or voluntary muscles with freedom, the 
 pai'oxysm is at an end ; but, for some time after, we 
 
142 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 experience extreme terror, and often cold shivering, 
 while the heart throbs violently, and the respiration 
 is hurried. These two latter circumstances are 
 doubted by Dr. Darwin, but I am convinced of 
 their existence, both from what I have experienced 
 in my own person, and from what I have been told 
 by others : indeed, analogy would irresistibly lead 
 us to conclude that they must exist ; and whoever 
 carefully investigates the subject, will find that 
 they do almost universally. 
 
 An opinion prevails, that during incubus the per- 
 son is always upon his back; and the circumstance 
 of his usually feeling as if in that posture, together 
 with the relief which he experiences on turning 
 round upon his side, are certainly strong presump- 
 tions in favour of its accuracy. The sensations, 
 however, which occur, in this state, are fallacious 
 in the highest degree. AVe have seldom .iny evi- 
 dence either that he was on his back, or that he 
 turned round at all. The fact that he supposed 
 himself in the above position during the fit, and the 
 other fact, that, on recovering from it, he was lying 
 on his side, may liavc produced the illusion; and, 
 where he never moved a single muscle, he may 
 conceive that he turned round after a prodigious 
 efl^ort. I have had an attack of this disorder while 
 
NIGHT-MARE. 143 
 
 sitting in an arm-chair, or with my head leaning 
 against a table. In fact, these are the most likely 
 positions to bring it on, the lungs being then more 
 completely compressed than in almost any other 
 posture. I have also had it most distinctly while 
 lying on the side, and I know many cases of a 
 similar description in others. Although, therefore, 
 night-mare may take place more frequently upon the 
 back than upon the side, the opinion that it occurs 
 only in the former of these postures, is altogether 
 incorrect ; and where we are very liable to its at- 
 tacks, no posture whatever will protect us. 
 
 Persons not particularly subject to incubus, feel 
 no inconvenience, save temporary terror or fatigue, 
 from any occasional attack which they may have ; 
 but those with whom it is habitual, are apt to ex- 
 perience a certain degree of giddiness, ringing in 
 the ears, tension in the forehead, flashing of light 
 before the eyes, and other symptoms of cerebral 
 congestion. A bad taste in the mouth, and more or 
 less fulness about the pit of the stomach, are some- 
 times experienced after an attack. 
 
 The illusions which occur, are perhaps the most 
 extraordinary phenomena of night-mare ; and so 
 strongly are they often impressed upon the mind, 
 that, even on awaking, we find it impossible not to 
 
144 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 believe tliem real. We may, for example, be sen- 
 sible of knockings at the door of our apartment, 
 hear familiar voices calling upon us, and see indivi- 
 duals passing" through the chamber. In many cases, 
 no arguments, no efforts of the understanding will 
 convince us that these are merely the chimeras of 
 sleep. We regard them as events of actual occur- 
 rence, and will not be persuaded to the contrary. 
 With some, such a belief has gone down to the 
 grave : and others have maintained it strenuously 
 for years, till a recurrence of the illusions, under 
 circumstances which rendered their real existence 
 impossible, has shown them that the whole was a 
 dream. Many a good gliost story lias had its 
 source in the illusions of night-mare. 
 
 The following case, related by Mr. Waller, gives 
 a good idea of the strength of such illusive feelings : 
 
 " In the month of February, 1814, I was living 
 in the same house with a young gentleman, the son 
 of a peer of the United Kingdom, who was at that 
 time under my caiv. in a very alarming state of 
 health ; and who had been, for several days, in a 
 state of violent delirium. The close attention which 
 his case required from me, together with a degree 
 of personal attachment to him, had rendered me 
 extremely anxious about him : and as my usual 
 
NIGHT-MARE. 145 
 
 hours of sleep suffered a great degree of interrup- 
 tion from the attendance given to him, I was, from 
 that cause alone, rendered more than usually liable 
 to the attacks of night-mare, which consequently 
 intruded itself every night upon my slumbers. The 
 young gentleman in question, from the violence of 
 his delirium, was with great difficulty kept in bed ; 
 and had once or twice eluded the vigilance of his 
 attendants, and jumped out of bed ; an accident of 
 which I was every moment dreading a repetition. I 
 awoke from my sleep one morning about four 
 o'clock — at least it appeared to me that I awoke — and 
 heard distinctly the voice of this young gentleman, 
 who seemed to be coming hastily up the stairs lead- 
 ing to my apartment, calling me by name, in the 
 manner he was accustomed to do in his delirium ; 
 and immediately after, I saw him standing by my 
 bed-side, holding the curtains open, expressing all 
 that wildness in his looks which accompanies violent 
 delirium. At the same moment, I heard the voices 
 of his two attendants coming up the stairs in search 
 of him, who likewise came into the room and took 
 him away. During all this scene I was attempting 
 to speak, but could not articulate ; I thought, how- 
 ever, that I succeeded in attempting to get out of 
 bed, and assisting his attendants in removing him 
 
 H 
 
146 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 out of the room; after which, I returned to bed, 
 and instantly fell asleep. When I waited upon my 
 patient in the morning, I was not a little surprised 
 to find that he was asleep ; and was utterly con- 
 founded on being told that he had been so all 
 night ; and as this sleep was the first he had en- 
 joyed for three or four days, the attendants were 
 very minute in detailing the whole particulars of 
 It. Although this account appeared inconsistent 
 with what I conceived I had seen, and with what 
 I concluded they knew as well as myself, I did not, 
 for some time, perceive the error into which I had 
 been led, till I observed that some of ray questions 
 and remarks were not intelligible ; then I began to 
 suspect the true source of the error, which I should 
 never have discovered, had not experience rendered 
 those hallucinations familiar to me. But the whole 
 of this transaction had so much consistency and 
 probability in it, that I might, under different cir- 
 cumstances, have remained for ever ignorant of 
 having been imposed upon in this instance, by my 
 senses."* 
 
 During niglit-maro, tlio deepness of the slumber 
 varies much at different times. Sometimes we are 
 
 • Waller's Trfatist!. 
 
NIGHT-MARE. 147 
 
 in a state closely approximating upon perfect sleep ; 
 at other times we are almost completely awake ; 
 and it will be remarked, that the more awake wn 
 are, the greater is the violence of the paroxysm. 
 I have experienced the affection stealing upon 
 me while in perfect possession of my faculties, 
 and have undergone the greatest tortures, being 
 haunted by spectres, hags, and every sort of phan- 
 tonir:— having, at the same time, a full consciousness 
 that I was labouring under incubus, and that all tlie 
 terrifying objects around me were the creations of 
 my own brain. This shows that the judgment is 
 often only very partially affected, and proves also that 
 night-mare is not merely a disagreeable dream, but 
 a painful bodily affection. Were it nothing more 
 than the former, we could scarcely possess a know- 
 ledge of our condition ; for, in simple visions, the 
 reflecting organs are almost uniformly quiescent, 
 and we scarcely ever, for a moment, doubt the 
 reality of our impressions. In night-mare, this is 
 often, perhaps generally, the case; but we frequently 
 meet with instances, in which, diu'ing the worst 
 periods of the fit, consciousness remains almost 
 unimpaired. 
 
 There are great differences in the duration of the 
 paroxysm, and also in the facility with which it is 
 
148 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 broken. I know not of any method by which the 
 period to which it extends can be estimated, for the 
 sufferer has no data to go by, and time, as in all 
 modifications of dreaming, is subjected to the most 
 capricious laws — an actual minute often appearing 
 to embrace a whole hour. Of this point, therefore, 
 we must be contented to remain in ignorance ; but 
 it may be conceived that the attack will be as various 
 in its duration, as in the characters which it assumes 
 — in one case being ten times as long as in another. 
 With regard to the breaking of the fit, the differences 
 are equally great. At one time, the slightest agita- 
 tion of the body, the opening of the chamber door, 
 or calling softly to the sufferer, will arouse him ; 
 at another, he requires to be sh.iken violently, and 
 called upon, long and loudly, before he is released. 
 Some people are much more prone to incubus 
 tlian others. Those whose digestion is healthy, 
 whoso minds are at ease, and who go supperless to 
 bed, will seldom be troubled with it. Those, again, 
 who keep late hours, study hard, eat heavy sup- 
 pers, and are subject to bile, acid, or liypochondria. 
 are <ilmost sure to be, more or less, its victims. 
 There are particular kinds of food, which pretty 
 constantly lead to the same result, such as cheese, 
 cucumbers, almonds, and whatever is hard to In* 
 
NIGHT-MARE. l49 
 
 digested. Hildesheim, in his " De Affectibus Ca- 
 pitis," justly remarks, that " he who wishes to know 
 what night-mare is, let him eat chestnuts before 
 going to sleep, and drink feculent wine after them." 
 
 Certain diseases, also, are apt to induce it, such 
 as asthma, hydrothorax, angina pectoris, and other 
 varieties of dyspnoea. Men are more subject to it 
 than women, probably from their stomachs being 
 more frequently disordered by intemperance, and 
 their minds more closely occupied. Sailors, owing 
 to the hard and indigestible nature of their food, 
 are very frequently its victims ; and it is a general 
 remark that it oftener occurs at sea than on shore. 
 It seems probable that much of the superstitious 
 belief of these men, in apparitions, proceeds from 
 the phantoms which night-mare calls into existence. 
 Unmarried women are more annoyed by it than 
 those who are married ; and the latter, when preg- 
 nant, have it oftener than at other times. Persons 
 who were extremely subject to the complaint in 
 their youth, sometimes get rid of it when they reach 
 the age of puberty, owing, probably, to some change 
 in the constitution which occurs at this period. 
 
 There have been different opinions with regard 
 to the proximate cause of incubus ; and authors 
 have generally looked upon it as involved in con- 
 
150 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 siderable obscurity. An impeded circulation of 
 blood in the pulmonary arteries, compression of 
 the diaphragm by a full stomach, and torpor of 
 the intercostal muscles, are all mentioned as contri- 
 buting wholly, or partially, to the event. I am of 
 opinion that either of these states may cause night- 
 mare, but that, in most cases, they are all combined. 
 Any thing, in fact, which impedes respiration, may 
 give rise to the disorder, whether it be asthma, 
 hydrothorax, distended stomach, muscular torpor, 
 or external compression. The causes, then, are 
 various, but it will be found that, whatever they 
 may be, their ultimate operation is upon the lungs. 
 
 We have already seen that, in ordinary sleep, 
 particular states of the body are apt to induce 
 visions : it is, therefore, easily conceivable that a 
 sense of suffocation, such as occurs in night-mare, 
 may give birth to all the horrid phantoms seen in 
 that distemper. The physical suffering in such a 
 case, exalts the imagination to its utmost pitch ; 
 fills it with spectres and cliimeras ; and plants an 
 immoveable weight or malignant fiend upon the 
 bosom to crush us into agony. Let us see how 
 such physical suffering is brought about. 
 
 Any disordered state of the stomach may pro- 
 duce it. First. — This organ may be so distended 
 
NIGHT-MARE. 151 
 
 with food or wind as to press upon the diaphragm, 
 lessen the dimensions of the chest, obstruct the 
 movements of the heart, and thereby impede 
 respiration. Circumstances like these alone are 
 sufl&cient to produce night-mare ; and the cause 
 from the first is purely mechanical. 
 f^fe Secondly. — The state of the stomach may call 
 forth incubus by means more circuitous or indirect. 
 In this case, the viscus is unequal to the task im- 
 posed upon it of digesting the food, either from an 
 unusual quantity being thrown upon it, from the 
 food being of an indigestible nature, or from actual 
 weakness. Here the sensorial power latent in this 
 organ, is insufficient to carry it through with its 
 operations, and it is obliged to draw upon the 
 rest of the body — upon the brain, the respiratory 
 muscles, &c., for the supply of which it is deficient. 
 The muscles of respiration, in giving their por- 
 tion, reduce themselves to a state of temporary 
 debility, and do not retain a sufficient share to 
 execute their own actions with due vigour. The 
 pectorals, the intercostals, and the diaphragm be- 
 come thus paralyzed; and, the chest not being 
 sufficiently dilated for perfect breathing, a feeling 
 of suffocation inevitably ensues. In like manner, 
 the muscles of volition, rendered inert by the 
 
152 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 subtraction of their quota of sensorial power, are 
 unable to exercise their functions, and remain, 
 during the paroxysm, in a state of immoveable 
 torpor. This unequal distribution of nervous 
 energy continues till, by producing some excessive 
 uneasiness, it stimulates the will to a violent eflPort, 
 and breaks the fit ; and so soon as this takes place, 
 the balance becomes redressed, and the sensorial 
 equilibrium restored. 
 
 Physical suffering of that kind which impedes 
 breathing, may also be occasioned by many other 
 causes — by pneumonia, by empyema, by aneurism oi 
 the aorta, by laryngitis, by croup, by external pres- 
 sure; and, accordingly, either of these may give 
 rise tonight-mare. If we chance to lie down with a 
 pillow or heavy cloak upon the breast, or to sleep 
 with the body bent forward, and the head supported 
 upon a table, as already mentioned, we may be 
 seized with it ; and, in truth, whatever, either 
 directly or indirectly, acts upon the respiratory 
 muscles, and impedes their operation, is pretty sure 
 to bring it on. Even a weak or disordered stomach, 
 in which there is no food, by iittracting to itself a 
 portion of their sensorial power to aid its own in- 
 adequacies, may induce it. The disorder, there- 
 fore, takes place under various circumstances — 
 
NIGHT-MARE. 153 
 
 either by direct pressure upon the lungs, as in dis- 
 tended stomach, or hydrothorax ; or by partial 
 torpor of the stomach or muscles of respiration, 
 owing to a deficiency of nervous energy. These 
 physical impediments coexisting with, or giving 
 rise to a distempered state of the brain, sufficiently 
 account for the horrors of night-mare. 
 
 Why are hard students, deep thinkers, and hypo- 
 chondriacs unusually subject to incubus ? The 
 cause is obvious. Such individuals have often a 
 bad digestion : their stomachs are subject to acidity, 
 and other functional derangements, and, therefore, 
 peculiarly apt to generate the complaint. The 
 sedentary life, and habits of intellectual or melan- 
 choly reflection in wliich they indulge, have a ten- 
 dency not merely to disturb the digestive apparatus, 
 but to act upon the whole cerebral system : hence, 
 they are far more liable to dreams of every kind than 
 other people, in so far as their minds are more intent- 
 ly employed ; and when, in sleep they are pained by 
 any physical endurance, the activity of their mental 
 powers will naturally associate the most horrible 
 ideas with such suffering, and produce incubus, and 
 all its frightful accompaniments. 
 
 Night-mare is sometimes attended with danger, 
 when it becomes habitual. It may then give rise 
 h2 
 
154 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 to apoplexy, and destroy life ; or, in very nervous 
 subjects, may occasion epileptic and hysterical 
 affections, which prove extremely harassing. Ac- 
 cording to Ccelius Aurelianus, many people die of 
 this complaint. Probably, some of those who are 
 found dead in bed have lost their lives in a fit of 
 incubus, the circumstance being imputed to some 
 other cause. Night-mare is thus, in some cases 
 dangerous ; and in all, when it becomes habitual, 
 is such a source of miser)', that sleep, instead of 
 being courted as a period of blissful repose, is looked 
 upon with horror, as the appointed season of inex- 
 pressible suffering and dread. It becomes, on this 
 account, a matter of importance to contrive some 
 method for preventing the attacks of so distressful 
 a malady- The cause, whatever it may be, must, 
 if practicable, be removed, and the symptoms 
 thence arising will naturally disappear. If the dis- 
 order proceed from heavy suppers, or indigestible 
 food, these things ought to be given up, and the 
 person should either go supperless to bed, or with 
 such a light meal as will not hurt his digestion. 
 Salted provisions of all kinds must be abandoned, 
 nor should he taste any thing whicli will lie 
 heavily upon the stomach, or run into fermenta- 
 tion. For this reason, nuts, cucumbers, cheese, ham, 
 
NIGHT-MARE. 155 
 
 and fruits are all prejudicial. If he be subject to 
 heartburn, flatulence, and other dyspeptic symptoms, 
 he should make use of occasional doses of magnesia, 
 or carbonate of potash or soda. I have known a tea- 
 spoonful of either of the two latter, or three times 
 that quantity of the former, taken before stepping 
 into bed, prevent an attack, where, from the pre- 
 vious state of the stomach, I am convinced it 
 would have taken place, had those medicines not 
 been used. Great attention must be paid to the 
 state of the bowels. For this purpose, the colo- 
 cynth, the compound rhuburb, or the common 
 aloetic pill, should be made use of, in doses of 
 one, two, or three, according to circumstances, 
 till the digestive organs are brought into proper 
 play. The common blue pill, used with proper 
 caution, is also an excellent medicine. In all 
 cases, the patient should take abundant exercise, 
 shun late hours, or too much study, and keep his 
 mind in as cheerful a state as possible. The bed 
 he lies on ought to be hard, and the pillow not 
 very high. When the attacks are frequent, and ex- 
 tremely severe. Dr. Darwin recommends that an 
 alarum clock might be hung up in the room, so that 
 the repose may be interrupted at short intervals. It 
 is a good plan to have another person to sleep in 
 
156 PHILOSOPHVr OF SLEEP. 
 
 the same bed, who might arouse him from the 
 paroxysm ; and he should be directed to lie as little 
 as possible upon the back. 
 
 These points comprehend the principal treatment, 
 and when persevered in, will rarely fail to miti- 
 gate or remove the disease. Sometimes, however, 
 owing to certain peculiarities of constitution, it may 
 be necessary to adopt a different plan, or com- 
 bine other means along with the above : thus, 
 Whytt, who was subject to night-mare, could only 
 insure himself against an attack, by taking a small 
 glassful of brandy just before going to bed ; and 
 some individuals find that a light supper prevents 
 the fit, while it is sure to occur if no supper at all be 
 taken. But these are rare exceptions to the general 
 rule, and, when they do occur, must be treated in 
 that manner which experience proves most effectual, 
 without being bound too nicely by the ordinary 
 modes of cure. 131ood-letting, which some writers 
 recommend, is useless or hurtful, except in cases 
 where there is reason to suppose that the affection 
 is brought on by plethora. With regard to the 
 other causes of night-mare, such as asthma, hydro- 
 thorax, »!v.c., these must be treated on general prin- 
 ciples, and it, as one of their symptoms, will depart 
 so soon as they are removed. 
 
NIGHT-MARE. 157 
 
 Some persons recommend opium for the cure of 
 night-mare, but this medicine I should think more 
 likely to aggravate than relieve the complaint. The 
 late Dr. Polydori, author of " The Vampyre," and 
 of an " Essay on Positive Pleasure," was much 
 subject to incubus, and in the habit of using opium 
 for its removal. One morning he was found dead 
 and on a table beside him stood a glass, which had 
 evidently contained laudanum and water. From 
 this, it was supposed he had killed himself by his 
 own treatment ; but whether the quantity of lauda- 
 num taken by him would have destroyed life in 
 ordinary circumstances, has never been ascertained. 
 
158 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 DAY-MARE. 
 
 I HAVE Strong doubts as to the propriety of con- 
 sidering this affection in any way different from the 
 incubus, or night-niare. It seems merely a modi- 
 fication of the latter, only accompanied by no 
 aberration of the judgment. The person endures 
 precisely many of the same feelings, such as difficult 
 respiration, torpor of the voluntary muscles, deep 
 sigliing, extreme terror, and inability to speak. 
 The only difference which seems to exist between 
 the two states is, that, in day-mare, the reason is 
 nlwat/s unclouded — whereas in incubus it is generally 
 more or less disturbed. 
 
 Dr. Mason Good, in his *' Study of Medicine," 
 takes notice of a case, recorded by Forestus, where 
 
DAY-MARE. 159 
 
 the affection returned periodically every third day, 
 like an intermittent fever. " The patient was a 
 girl, nine years of age, and at these times was 
 suddenly attacked with great terror, a constriction 
 of both the lower and upper belly, with urgent 
 difficulty of breathing. Her eyes continued open, 
 and were permanently continued to one spot ; with 
 her hands she forcibly grasped hold of things, that 
 she might breathe the more easily. When spoken 
 to, she returned no answer. In the meantime, the 
 mind seemed to be collected ; she was without 
 sleep ; sighed repeatedly; the abdomen was elevated, 
 the thorax still violently contracted, and oppressed 
 with laborious respiration and heavy panting : she 
 was incapable of utterance." 
 
 During the intensely hot summer of 1825, I 
 experienced an attack of day-mare. Immediately 
 after dining, I threw myself on my back upon a 
 sofa, and, before I was aware, was seized with 
 difficult respiration, extreme dread, and utter in- 
 capability of motion or speech. I could neither 
 move nor cry, while the breath came from my chest 
 in broken and suffocating paroxysms. During all 
 this time, I was perfectly awake ; I saw the light 
 glaring in at the windows in broad sultry streams ; 
 I felt the intense heat of the day pervading my 
 
160 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 frame ; and heard distinctly the different noises in 
 the street, and even the ticking of my own watch, 
 which I had placed on the cushion beside me. I 
 had, at the same time, the consciousness of flies 
 buzzing around, and settling with annoying perti- 
 nacity upon my face. During the whole fit, judg- 
 ment was never for a moment suspended. I felt 
 assured that I laboured under a species of incubus. 
 I even endeavoured to reason myself out of the feel- 
 ing of dread which filled my mind, and longed with 
 insufferable ardour for some one to open the door, 
 and dissolve the spell which bound me in its fetters. 
 The fit did not continue above five minutes : by 
 degrees I recovered the use of speech and motion : 
 and as soon as they were so far restored as to 
 enable me to call out and move my limbs, it wore 
 insensibly away. 
 
 Upon the whole, I consider day-mare and night- 
 mare identical. They proceed from tlie same causes 
 and must be treated in a similar manner. 
 
SLEEP-WALKING. 161 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 
 SLEEP-WALKING. 
 
 In simple dreaming, as I have already stated, 
 some of the cerebral organs are awake, while others 
 continue in the quiescence of sleep. Such, also, is 
 the case in somnambulism, but with this addition, 
 that the dream is of so forcible a nature as to 
 stimulate into action the muscular system as well 
 as, in most cases, one or more of the organs of the 
 senses. If we dream that we are walking, and 
 the vision possesses such a degree of vividness and 
 exciting energy as to arouse the muscles df locomo- 
 tion, we naturally get up and walk. Should we 
 dream that we hear or see, and the impression be 
 so vivid as to stimulate the eyes and ears, or, more 
 properly speaking, those parts of the brain which 
 
162 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP, 
 
 take cognizance of sights and sounds, then we both 
 see any objects, or hear any sounds, which may occur, 
 just as if we were awake. In some cases, the 
 muscles only are excited, and then we simply walk, 
 without either seeing or hearing. In others, both 
 the muscles and organs of siglit are stimulated, and 
 we not only walk but have the use of our eyes. 
 In a third variety, the activity of hearing is added, 
 and we both walk, and see, and hear. Should the 
 senses of smell, taste, and touch, be stimulated into 
 activity, and relieved from the torpor into which 
 they were thrown by sleep, we have them also 
 brought into operation. If, to all tliis, wo add an 
 active state of the organs of speech, inducing us to 
 talk, we are then brought as nearly, as the slumber- 
 ing state admits, into the condition of perfect wake- 
 fulness. The following passage from Dr. M.ison 
 Good, will illustrate some of the foregoing points 
 more fully. 
 
 •' If," observes he, *' the external organ of sens*- 
 thus stimulated be tliat of siglit, the dreamer may 
 perceive objects around him, and be able to dis- 
 tinguish them: and if tlie tenor of the dreaming 
 ideas should as powerfully operate upon the muscles 
 of locomotion, these also may be thrown into their 
 accustomed state of action, and he may rise from his 
 
SLEEP-WALKING. 163 
 
 bed, and make his way to whatever place the drift 
 of his dream may direct hira, with perfect ease, and 
 free from danger. He will see more or less dis- 
 tinctly, in proportion as the organ of sight is more 
 or less awake : yet, from the increased exhaustion, 
 and, of course, increased torpor of the other organs, 
 in consequence of an increased demand of sensorial 
 power from the common stock, to supply the action 
 of the sense and muscles immediately engaged, 
 every other sense will probably be thrown into a 
 deeper sleep or torpor than if the whole had been 
 quiescent. Hence, the ears may not be roused 
 even by a sound that might otherwise awake the 
 sleeper. He may be insensible not only to a slight 
 touch, but a severe shaking of the limbs ; and may 
 even cough violently, without being recalled from 
 his dream. Having accomplished the object of his 
 visionary pursuit, he may safely return, even over 
 the most dangerous precipices — for he sees them 
 distinctly — to his bed ; and the organ of sight being 
 now quite exhausted, or there being no longer any 
 occasion for its use, it may once more associate in 
 the general inactivity, and the dream take a new 
 turn, and consist of a new combination of images.* 
 
 * Good's Study of Medicine, vol. iv. p. 175, 3d edit. 
 
164 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 I suspect that sleep-walking is sometimes here- 
 ditary, at least I have known instances which gave 
 countenance to such a supposition. Its victims are 
 generally pale, nervous, irritable persons ; and it is 
 remarked that they are subject, without any ap- 
 parent cause, to frequent attacks of cold perspiration. 
 Somnambulism, I have had occasion to remark, 
 is very common among children ; and I believe 
 that it more frequently affects childhood than any 
 other age. In females, it sometimes arises from 
 amenorrhoea ; and any source of bodily or mental 
 irritation may produce it. It is a curious, and not 
 easily explained fact, that the aged, though they 
 dream more than the middle-aged, are less addicted 
 to somnambulism and sleep-talking. Indeed, these 
 phenomena are seldom noticed in old people. 
 
 It has been matter of surprise to many, that 
 somnambulists often get into the most dangerous 
 situations without experiencing terror. But tlie 
 explanation of this ought not to be attended with 
 any real difficulty ; for we must reflect, that ahirm 
 cannot be felt unless we apprehend danger, and that 
 the latter, however great it may be, cannot excite 
 emotion of any kind, so long as we are ignorant of 
 its existence. This is the situation in which sleep- 
 walkers, in a great majority of cases, stand. The 
 
SLEEP-WALKING. 165 
 
 reasoning faculties, which point out the existence 
 of danger, are generally in a state of complete 
 slumber, and unable to produce corresponding 
 emotions in the mind. And even if danger should be 
 perceived by a sleep-walker and avoided, as is some- 
 times the case, his want of terror is to be imputed to 
 a quiescent state of the organ of Cautiousness ; the 
 sense of fear originating in high excitement of this 
 particular part of the brain. That the reasoning 
 faculties, however, are sometimes only very partially 
 suspended we have abundant evidence, in the fact of 
 the individual not only, now and then, studiously 
 avoiding danger, but performing offices which re- 
 quire no small degree of judgment. In the higher 
 kinds of somnambulism, so many of the organs of the 
 brain are in activity, and there is such perfect wake- 
 fulness of the external senses and locomotive powers, 
 that the person may almost be said to be awake. 
 
 Somnambulism bears a closer analogy than a 
 common dream to madness. *' Like madness, it is 
 accompanied with muscular action, with coherent 
 and incoherent conduct, and with that complete 
 oblivion (in most cases) of both, which takes place 
 in the worst grade of madness."* 
 
 * Rush's Medical Inquiries. 
 
166 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 Somnambulists generally walk with their eyes 
 
 open, but these organs are, nevertheless, frequently 
 
 asleep, and do not exercise their functions. This 
 
 fact was well known to Shakspeare, as is apparent 
 
 in the fearful instance of Lady jMacbeth : 
 
 ''Doctor. You see her eyes are open. 
 Gentleman. Ay, but their sense is shut." 
 
 The following is a remarkable instance in point, 
 and shows that though the power of vision was 
 suspended, that of hearing continued in full opera- 
 tion. 
 
 A female servant in the town of Chelmsford, 
 surprised the family, at four o'clock one morning, 
 by walking down a flight of stairs in her sleep, and 
 rapping at the bed-room door of her master, who 
 inquired what she wanted ? when, in her usual tone 
 of voice, she requested some cotton, saying that she 
 had torn her gown, but hoped that her mistress 
 would forgive her : at the same time bursting into 
 tears. Her fellow-servant, with whom she had 
 been conversing for some time, observed her get 
 out of bed, and quickly followed her, but not before 
 she had related tiie pitiful story. She then returned 
 to her room, and a light having been procured, 
 she was found groping to find her cotton-box. 
 Another person went to her, when, perceiving 
 
SLEEP-WALKING. 167 
 
 a diflPerence in the voice ; she called out, ' That is 
 a different voice, that is my mistress,' which was 
 not the case — thus clearly showing, that she did 
 not see the object before her, although her eyes 
 were wide open. Upon inquiry as to what was 
 the matter, she only said that she wanted some 
 cotton, but that her fellow- servant had been to her 
 master and mistress, making a fuss about it. It was 
 now thought prudent that she should be allowed to 
 remain quiet for some short time, and she was per- 
 suaded to lie down with her fellow- servant, until 
 the usual hour of rising, thinking that she might 
 then awake in her accustomed manner. This failing 
 in effect, her mistress went up to her room, and, 
 rather angrily desired her to get up, and go to her 
 work, as it was now six o'clock ; this she refused, 
 telling her mistress that if she did not please her, 
 she might look out for another servant, at the same 
 time saying, that she would not rise up at two 
 o'clock, (pointing to the window,) to injure her 
 health for any one. For the sake of a joke, she 
 was told to pack up her things, and start off imme- 
 diately, but to this she made no reply. She re- 
 buked her fellow-servant for not remaining longer 
 in bed, and shortly after this became quiet. She 
 was afterwards shaken violently, and awoke. She 
 
168 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 then rose, and seeing^ the cotton-box disturbed, 
 demanded to know why it had been meddled with, 
 not knowing that she alone was the cause of it. In 
 the course of the day several questions were put to 
 her in order to try her recollection, but the real 
 fact, of her walking, was not made known to her ; 
 and she is still quite unconscious of what has trans- 
 pired. 
 
 The next case is of a different description, and 
 exhibits a dormant state of the sense of hearing, 
 while sight appears, throughout, to have been in 
 active operation. 
 
 A young man named Johns, who works at 
 Cardrew, near Redruth, being asleep in the sump- 
 house of that mine, was observed by two boys 
 to rise and walk to the door, against which he 
 leaned ; shortly after, quitting that position, he 
 walked to the engine-shaft, and safely descended to 
 the depth of twenty fathoms, where he was found 
 by his comrades soon after, with his back resting 
 on the ladder. They called to him, to apprize him 
 of the perilous situation in which he was, but he 
 did not hoar them, and they were obliged to shake 
 him roughly till he awoke, when he appeared totally 
 at a loss to account for his being so situated. 
 
 In I^odge's " Historical Portraits," there is a 
 
SLEEP-WALKING. 169 
 
 likeness, by Sir Peter Lely, of Lord Culpepper's 
 brother, so famous as a dreamer. In 1686, he was 
 indicted at the Old Bailey, for shooting- one of the 
 Guards, and his horse to boot. He pleaded som- 
 nambulism, and was acquitted on producing* nearly 
 fifty witnesses to prove the extraordinary things he 
 did in his sleep. 
 
 A very curious circumstance is related of Dr. 
 Franklin, in the memoirs of that eminent philoso- 
 pher, published by his grandson. " I went out," 
 said the Doctor, " to bathe in Martin's salt water 
 hot bath, in Southampton, and, floating on my back, 
 fell asleep, and slept nearly an hour, by my watch, 
 without sinking or turning — a thing I never did 
 before, and should hardly have thought possible." 
 
 A case still more extraordinary occurred some 
 time ago in one of the towns on the coast of Ireland. 
 About two o'clock in the morning, the watchmen 
 on the Revenue quay, were much surprised at des- 
 crying a man disporting himself in the water, about 
 a hundred yards from the shore. Intimation having 
 been given to the Revenue boat's crew, they pushed 
 off and succeeded in picking him up, but strange to 
 say, he had no idea whatever of his perilous situa- 
 tion : and it was with the utmost difficulty they 
 could persuade him he was not still in bed. But 
 I 
 
170 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 the most singular part of this novel adventure, and 
 wliich was afterwards ascertained, was that the man 
 had left his house at twelve o'clock that night, and 
 walked through a difl5cult, and, to him, dangerous 
 road, a distance of nearly two miles, and had actu- 
 ally swum one mile and a half when he was for- 
 tunately discovered and picked up. 
 
 Not very long ago a boy was seen fishing oflF 
 Brest, up to the middle in water. On coming uj) 
 to him, he was found to be fast asleep. 
 
 I know a gentleman who, in consequence of 
 dreaming that the house was broken into by thieves, 
 got out of bed, dropped from the window (fortun- 
 ately a low one) into the street ; and was a consid- 
 erable distance on his way to warn the police, when 
 he was discovered by one of them, who awoke him, 
 and conducted him home. 
 
 A case is related of an English clergyman who 
 used to get up in the night, light his candle, write 
 sermons, correct them with interlineations, and 
 retire to bed again ; being all the time asleep. 
 The Archbishop of Bourdeaux mentions a similar 
 case of a student, who got up to compose a sermon 
 while asleep, wrote it correctly, read it over from 
 one end to the other, or at loast appeared to read 
 it, made corrections on it, scratched out lines, and 
 
SLEEP-WALKING. 171 
 
 substituted others, put in its place a word whicli 
 had been omitted, composed music, wrote it accu- 
 rately down, and performed other things equally 
 surprising. Dr. Gall takes notice of a miller who 
 was in the habit of getting up every night and 
 attending to his usual avocation at the mill, then 
 returning to bed : on awaking in the morning, he 
 recollected nothing of what passed during night. 
 Martinet speaks of a saddler who was accustomed 
 to rise in his sleep and work at his trade ; and Dr. 
 Pritchard of a farmer who got out of bed, dressed 
 himself, saddled his horse, and rode to the market, 
 being all the while asleep. Dr. Blacklock, on one 
 occasion, rose from bed, to which he had retired 
 at an early hour, came into the room where his 
 family were assembled, conversed with them, and 
 afterwards entertained them with a pleasant song, 
 without any of them suspecting he was asleep, 
 and without his retaining, after he awoke, the least 
 recollection of what he had done. It is a singular, 
 yet well authenticated fact, that in the disastrous 
 retreat of Sir John Moore, many of the soldiers fell 
 asleep, yet continued to march along with their 
 comrades. 
 
 The stories related of sleep-walkers are, indeed, 
 of so extraordinary a kind, that they would almost 
 
172 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 seem fictitious, were they not supported by the 
 most incontrovertible evidence. To walk on the 
 house-top, to scale precipices, and descend to the 
 bottom of frightful ravines, are common exploits 
 with the somnambulist ; and he performs them 
 with a facility far beyond the power of any man 
 wlio is completely awake. A story is told of a 
 boy, who dreamed that he got out of bed, and 
 ascended to the summit of an enormous rock, where 
 he found an eagle's nest, which he brought away 
 with him, and placed beneath his bed. Now, the 
 whole of these events actually took place ; and what 
 he conceived, on waking, to be a mere vision, was 
 proved to have had an actual existence, toy the nest 
 being found in the precise spot where he imagined 
 he had put it, and by the evidence of spectators whf» 
 beheld his perilous adventure. The precipice which 
 he ascended, was of a nature that must have baffled 
 the most expert mountaineer, and such as, at other 
 times, he never could have scaled. In this instance, 
 th<» individual was as nearly as possible, without 
 actually being so, awake. All his bodily, and 
 <ilmost the whole ot his mental powers, appear to 
 have been in full activity. So far as the latter are 
 concerned, we can only conceive a partial defect of 
 the judgment to have existed, for tliat it wa<. not 
 
SLEEP-WALKING. 173 
 
 altogether abolished is pretty evident from the fact 
 of his proceeding- to work precisely as he would have 
 done, had he, in his waking hours, seriously resolved 
 to make such an attempt : the defect lay in making 
 the attempt at all ; and still more in getting out of 
 bed to do so in the middle of the night. 
 
 Somnambulism, as well as lunacy, sometimes 
 bestows supernatural strength upon the individual. 
 Mr. Dubrie, a musician in Bath, affords an instance 
 of this kind. One Sunday, while awake, he attempted 
 in vain to force open the window of his bed-room, 
 which chanced to be nailed down ; but having got 
 up in his sleep, he repeated the attempt success- 
 fully, and threw himself out, by which he unfor- 
 tunately broke his leg. 
 
 Sleep-walking is sometimes periodical. Marti- 
 net describes the case of a watchmaker's apprentice 
 who had an attack of it every fortnight. In this 
 state, though insensible to all external impressions, 
 he would perform his work with his usual accu- 
 racy, and was always astonished, on awaking, at 
 the progress he had made. The paroxysm began 
 with a sense of heat in the epigastrium extending 
 to the head, followed by confusion of ideas and 
 complete insensibility, the eyes remaining open with 
 a fixed and vacant stare. This case, wliich undoubt- 
 
174 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 edly originated in some diseased state of the brain, 
 terminated in epilepsy. Dr. Gall relates that he 
 saw at Berlin a young man, sixteen years of age, 
 who had, from time to time, very extraordinary fits. 
 He moved about unconsciously in bed, and had no 
 perception of any thing that was done to him ; at 
 last he would jump out of bed, and walk with rapid 
 steps about the room, his eyes being fixed and open. 
 Several obstacles which were placed by Dr. Gall in 
 his way, he either removed or cautiously avoided. 
 He then threw himself suddenly again upon bed, 
 moved about for some time, and finished by jump- 
 ing up awake, not a little surprised at the number 
 of curious people about him. 
 
 The facility with which somnambulists are awak- 
 ened from the paroxysm, differs extremely indiffer- 
 ent cases. One man is aroused by being gently 
 touched or called upon, by a flash of light, by 
 stumbling in his peregrinations, or by setting his 
 foot in water. Anotlier remains so heavily asleep, 
 that it is necessary to shout loudly, to shake him 
 witli violence, and make use of other excitations 
 equally powerful. In this condition, when the sense 
 of vision chances to be dormant, it is curious to 
 look at his eyes. Sometimes they are shut ; at other 
 times wide open ; and when the latter is the case, 
 
SLEEP-WALKING. 175 
 
 they are observed to be fixed and inexpressive 
 " without speculation" or energy, while the pupil 
 is contracted, as in the case of perfect sleep. 
 
 It is not always safe to arouse a sleep-walker ; 
 and many cases of the fatal effects thence arising, 
 have been detailed by authors. Nor is it at all 
 unlikely that a person, even of strong nerves, might 
 be violently agitated by awaking in a situation so 
 different from that in which he lay down. Among 
 other examples, that of a young lady, who was 
 addicted to this affection may be mentioned. Know- 
 ing her failing, her friends made a point of locking 
 the door, and securing the window of her chamber 
 in such a manner that she could not possibly get 
 out. One night, these precautions were unfortunate- 
 ly overlooked; and, in a paroxysm of somnam- 
 bulism, she walked into the garden behind the 
 house. While there, she was recognised by some 
 of the family, who were warned by the noise she 
 made on opening the door, and they followed and 
 awoke her ; but such was the effect produced upon 
 her nervous system, that she almost instantly 
 expired. 
 
 The remote causes of sleep-walking are so ob- 
 scure, that it is seldom we are able to ascertain 
 them. General irritability of frame, a nervous 
 
176 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 teniparament, and bad digestion, will dispose to the 
 affection. Being a modification of dreaming, those 
 who are much troubled with the latter will, conse- 
 quently, be most prone to its attacks. The causes, 
 however, are, in a great majority of cases, so com- 
 pletely unknown, that any attempt to investigate 
 them would be fruitless ; and we are compelled 
 to refer the complaint to some idiosyncracy of con- 
 stitution beyond the reach of human knowledge. 
 
 According to the report made by a Committee 
 of the Royal Academy of Sciences in Paris, animal 
 magnetism appears to have the power of inducing 
 a peculiar species of somnambulism. The circum- 
 stances seem so curious, that, even authenticated 
 as they are by men of undoubted integrity and 
 talent, it is extremely difficult to place reliance upon 
 them. The person who is thrown into the mag- 
 netic sleep is said to acquire a new conscious- 
 ness, and entirely to forget all the events of his 
 ordinary life. When this sleep is dissolved, he 
 gets into liis usual state of feeling and recollection, 
 but forgets every thing that happened during the 
 sleep ; being again magnetized, however, the re- 
 membrance of all that occurred in the previous 
 sleep is brought back to his mind. In one of the 
 cases above related, the pcitient, a lady of sixty-four 
 
SLEEP-WALKING. 177 
 
 years, had an ulcerated cancer in the right breast. 
 She had been magnetized for the purpose of dissolv- 
 ing the tumour, but no other eflPect was produced 
 than that of throwing her into a species of somnam- 
 bulic sleep, in which sensibility was annihilated, 
 while her ideas retained all their clearness. In this 
 state, her surgeon, M. Chapelain, disposed her to 
 submitto an operation, the idea of which she rejected 
 with horror when awake. Having formally given 
 her consent, she undressed herself, sat down upon 
 a chair, and the diseased glands were carefully and 
 deliberately dissected out, the patient conversing 
 all the time and being perfectly insensible of pain. 
 On awaking, she had no consciousness whatever 
 of having been operated upon ; but being informed 
 of the circumstance, and seeing her children around 
 her, she experienced the most lively emotion, which 
 the magnetizer instantly checked by again setting 
 her asleep. These facte appear startling and in- 
 credible. I can give no opinion upon the subject 
 from any thing I have seen myself; but the testi- 
 mony of such men as Cloquet, Georget, and Itard, 
 is not to be received lightly on any physiological 
 point ; and they all concur in bearing witness to 
 such facts as the above. In the present state of 
 i2 
 
178 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 knowledge and opinion, with regard to animal mag- 
 netism, and the sleep occasioned by it, I shall not 
 say more at present, but refer the reader to the 
 ample details contained in the Parisian Report ; an 
 able translation of which into English has been made 
 by Mr. Colquhoun. 
 
 When a person is addicted to somnambulism, 
 great care should be taken to have the door and 
 windows of his sleeping apartment secured, so as to 
 prevent the possibility of egress, as he sometimes 
 forces his way through the panes of glass: this 
 should be put out of his power, by having the shut- 
 ters closed, and bolted in such a way that they 
 cannot be opened without the aid of a key or screw, 
 or some such instrument, which should never be left 
 in the room where he bleeps, but carried away, 
 while the door is secured on the outside. Some have 
 recommended that a tub of water should be put by 
 the bedside, that, on getting out, he might step into 
 it, and be awakened by the cold; but this, from the 
 suddenness of its operation, might be attended with 
 bad consequences in very nervous and delicate sub- 
 jects. It is a good plan to fix a cord to the bed- 
 post, and tie the other end of it securely round the 
 person's wrist. This will effectually prevent mis- 
 
SLEEP-WALKING. 1/9 
 
 chief if he attempt to get up. Whenever it can be 
 managed, it will be prudent for another person to 
 sleep along with him. In all cases, care should be 
 taken not to arouse him suddenly. This must be 
 done as gently as possible ; and when he can be 
 conducted to bed without being awakened at all, 
 it is still better. Should he be perceived in any 
 dangerous situation, as on the house-top, or the 
 brink of a precipice, the utmost caution is requisite; 
 for, if we call loudly upon him, his dread, on re- 
 covering, at finding himself in such a predicament, 
 may actually occasion him to fall, where, if he had 
 been left to himself, he would have escaped without 
 injury. 
 
 To prevent a recurrence of somnambulism, we 
 should remove, if possible, the cause which gave 
 rise to it. Thus, if it proceed from a disordered 
 state of the stomach, or biliary system, we must 
 employ the various medicines used in such cases. 
 Plenty of exercise should be taken, and late hours 
 and much study avoided. If it arises from plethora, 
 he must be blooded, and live low ; should hysteria 
 produce it, antispasmodics, such as valerian, am- 
 monia, assafoetida, and opium may be necessary. 
 
 But, unfortunately, we can often refer sleep-walk- 
 ing to no complaint whatever. In this case, all that 
 
180 • PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 can be done is to carry the individual as safely as 
 possible through the paroxysm, and prevent him 
 from injury by the means we have mentioned. In 
 many instances, the affection will wear spontaneous- 
 ly away: in others, it will continue in spite of every 
 remedy. 
 
SLEEP-TALKING. 18 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 SLEEP-TALKING. 
 
 This closely resembles somnambulism, and proceeds 
 from similar causes. In somnambulism, those parts 
 of the brain which are awake call the muscles of 
 the limbs into activity; while, in sleep-talking, it is 
 the muscles necessary for the production of speech 
 which are animated by the waking cerebral organs. 
 During sleep, the organ oi Language may be active, 
 either singly or in combination with other parts of 
 the brain ; and of this activity sleep-talking is the 
 result.* If, while we dream that we are conversing 
 
 * Among the insane, the organ just mentioned is occasionally 
 excited to such a degree that, even in the waking state, the 
 patient, however desirous, is literally unable to refrain from 
 speaking. Mr. W. A. F. Browne has reported two cases of 
 
182 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 with some one, the organ of Lcmgtiage is in sucli a 
 high state of activity as to rouse the muscles of 
 speech, we are sure to talk. It often happens, 
 however, that the cerebral parts, though sufficiently 
 active to make us dream that we are speaking, are 
 not excited so much as to make us actually speak. 
 We only suppose we are carrying on a conversation, 
 wliile, in reality, we are completely silent. To pro- 
 duce sleep-talking, therefore, the brain, in some of its 
 functions, must be so much awake as to put into action 
 tlje voluntary muscles by which speech is produced. 
 The conversation in tliis state, is of such subjects 
 
 this nature in the :i7th No. <if tlip PhriMiolojjical Journal. Th** 
 tirst is that ot"a ■woman in tin* hospital o( I^i Salpetricre in I'uris. 
 Whenever she encounters the physician or other of the atten- 
 dants, she bursts forth into an address wbitJi is delivered with 
 incredible rapidity and vehemence, and is generally an abusive 
 or ironical declamation against the tyranny, cruelty, and injustice 
 to which she is exp<»sed. In lh«' midst of her harangues, how- 
 ever, she intro<luces frequent and earnest parenthetical declara- 
 tions " that she does not mean what she says; that though she 
 vows vengeance and showers imprecations on her medical at- 
 tendant, she loves him, and feels grateful fur hit kindness and 
 forbearance; and that, though anxious to evince her gratitude and 
 obe«licnce by silence, she is constrained by an invisible agency to 
 speak." In the other case, the individual speaks constantly : 
 " sleep itself does not yield an intermissi«»n ; and there is stnuig 
 reason to believe that a part, at least, of his waking orations is 
 delivered either without the cognizance of the other j»owers, <'r 
 without consciousness on the part of the speaker." 
 
SLEEP-TALKING. 183 
 
 as our thoughts are most immediately occupied 
 with ; and its consistency or incongruity depends 
 upon that of the prevailing ideas — being sometimes 
 perfectly rational and coherent ; at other times, full 
 of absurdity. The voice is seldom the same as in 
 the waking state. This I would impute to the 
 organs of hearing being mostly dormant, and con- 
 sequently unable to guide the modulations of sound. 
 The same fact is observable in very deaf persons, 
 whose speech is usually harsh, unvaried, and mono- 
 tonous. Sometimes the faculties are so far awake, 
 that we can manage to converse with the individual, 
 and extract from him the most hidden secrets of his 
 soul: circumstances have thus been ascertained 
 which would otherwise have remained in perpetual 
 obscurity. By a little address in this way, a gen- 
 tleman lately detected the infidelity of his wife 
 from some expressions which escaped her while 
 asleep, and succeeded in finding out that she had 
 a meeting arranged with her paramour for the 
 following day. Lord Byron describes a similar 
 scene in his " Parasina :" 
 
 " And Hugo is gone to his lonely bed, 
 To covet there another's bride ; 
 
 But she must lay her conscious head 
 A husband's trusting heart beside. 
 
184 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 But 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, 
 And clasps her Lord unto her breast 
 
 Which pants for one away." 
 
 From what has been said of somnambulism, the 
 reader will be prepared for phenomena equally 
 curious as regards sleep-talking-. Persons have been 
 known, for instance, who delivered sermons and 
 prayers during sleep ; among others, Dr. Haycock, 
 Professor of Medicine in Oxford. He would give 
 out a text in liis sleep, and deliver a good sermon 
 upon it ; nor could all the pinching and pulling of 
 his friends prevent him. ** One of the most re- 
 markable cases of speaking during sleep," observes 
 a writer in Frazer's IVfagazine, *' is that of an 
 American lady, now (we believe) alive, who 
 preached during her sleep, performing regularly 
 every part of the Presbyterian service, from th«' 
 psalm to the blessing. This lady was the daughter 
 of respectable and even Mealthy parents ; she fell 
 into bad health, and, under its influence, she dis- 
 turbed and annoyed her family by her nocturnal 
 eloquence. Ili-r unhappy parents, though at first 
 surprised, and perhaps flattered by the exhibition in 
 their family of so extraordinary a gift, were at last 
 
SLEEP-TALKING. 185 
 
 convinced that it was the result of disease ; and, irt 
 the expectation that their daughter might derive 
 benefit from change of scene, as well as from medi- 
 cal skill, they made a tour with her of some length, 
 and visited New York and some of the other great 
 cities of the Union. We know individuals who have 
 heard her preach during the night in steam-boats ; 
 and it was customary, at tea parties in New York, 
 (in the houses of medical practitioners,) to put the 
 lady to bed in a room adjacent to the drawing-room, 
 in order that the dilettanti might witness so extra- 
 ordinary a phenomenon. We have been told by 
 ear-witnesses that her sermons, though they had 
 the appearance of connected discourses, consisted 
 chiefly of texts of Scripture strung together. It is 
 strongly impressed upon our memory that some of 
 her sermons were published in America." 
 
 In the Edinburgh Journal of Science, a lady who 
 was subject to spectral illusions, is described as being 
 subject to talk in her sleep with great fluency, to re- 
 peat great portions of poetry, especially when unwell, 
 and even to cap verses for half an hour at a time, 
 never failing to quote lines beginning with the final 
 letter of the preceding till her memory was exhausted. 
 
 Dr. Dyce, in the Edinburgh Philosophical Trans- 
 
186 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 actions, relates the case of Maria C , who, 
 
 during one paroxysm of somnambulism, recollected 
 what took place in a preceding one, without having 
 any such recollection during the interval of wake- 
 fulness. One of the occasions in which this young 
 woman manifested the power in question, was of a 
 very melancholy nature. Her fellow-servant, a 
 female of abandoned character, having found out 
 that, on awaking, she entirely forgot every thing 
 which occurred during the fit, introduced by stealth 
 into the house, a young man of her acquaintance, 
 and obtained for him an opportunity of treating 
 Maria in the most brutal and treacherous manner. 
 The wretches succeeded in their object by stopping 
 her mouth with the bedclothes, by whicli and other 
 means, they overcame the vigorous resistance she 
 was enabled to make to their villany, even in her 
 somnolent state. On awaking, she had no con- 
 sciousness whatever of the outrage ; but some days 
 afterwards, having fallen into tlie same state, it 
 recurred to lier memory, and she related to her 
 mother all the revolting particulars. The state of 
 mind in this case was perfectly analogous to that 
 which is said to occur in the magnetic sleep ; but 
 tlie particular state of the brain which induces 
 
SLEEP-TALKING. 187 
 
 such conditions will, I believe, ever remain a 
 mystery.* 
 
 * A case, in some respects similar, was published in the Me- 
 dical Repository, by Dr. Mitchell, who received the particulars 
 of it from Major Ellicot, Professor of Mathematics in the United 
 States Military Academy at West Point. The subject was a 
 young lady, of a good constitution, excellent capacity, and well 
 educated. " Her memory was capacious and well stored with 
 a copious stock of ideas. Unexpectedly, and without any fore- 
 warning, she fell into a profound sleep, which continued several 
 hours beyond the ordinary term. On waking, she was dis- 
 covered to have lost every trait of acquired knowledge. Her 
 memory was tabula rasa — all A'estiges, both of words and things 
 were obliterated and gone. It was found necessary for her to 
 learn every thing again. She even acquired, by new efforts, the 
 art of spelling, reading, writing, and calculating, and gradually 
 became acquainted with the persons and objects around, like a 
 being for the first time brought into the world. In these exer- 
 cises she made considerable proficiency. But after a few 
 months, another fit of somnolency invaded her. On rousing 
 from it, she found herself restored to the state she was in before 
 the first paroxysm ; but was wholly ignorant of every event 
 and occurrence that had befallen her afterwards. The former 
 condition of her existence she now calls the Old State, and the 
 latter the New State ; and she is as unconscious of her double 
 character as two distinct persons are of their respective natures. 
 For example, in her old state, she possesses all the original 
 knowledge ; in her new state, only what she acquired since. If 
 a lady or gentleman be introduced to her in the old state, and 
 vice versa, (and so of all other matters) to know them satisfac- 
 torily, she must learn them in both states. In the old state, 
 she possesses fine powers of penmanship, while in the new, she 
 writes a poor, awkward hand, having not had time or means to 
 
188 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 The following singular case of sleep-talking, com- 
 bined with somnambulism, will prove interesting to 
 the reader : — 
 
 '•' A very ingenious and elegant young lady, with 
 light eyes and hair, about the age of seventeen, in 
 other respects well, was suddenly seized with this 
 very wonderful malady. The disease began with 
 violent convulsions of almost every muscle of her 
 body, with great, but vain efforts to vomit, and the 
 most violent hiccoughs that can be conceived : these 
 were succeeded in about an hour with a fixed 
 spasm; in which, one hand was applied to her head, 
 and the other to support it : in about half an hour 
 these ceased, and the reverie began suddenly, and 
 was at first manifest by the look of her eyes and 
 countenance, which seemed to express attention. 
 Then she conversed aloud witli imaginary persons, 
 with her eyes open, and could not, for about an 
 liour, be brought to attend to the stimulus of ex- 
 ternal objects by any kind of violence which it wsw 
 
 liecom«' expert. Diiriui; four years and upwards, she has ha«l 
 periodical transitions from one of these states to the other. The 
 Hlterations are alnrays consequent upon a long and sound sleep. 
 Both the lady and her family are now capable of conductiiit: 
 the atfair without embarrassment. By simply knowing wh*-- 
 ther she is in the old or new state, they regulate the intercoursf . 
 and govern themselves accordingly." 
 
SLEEP-TALKING. 189 
 
 possible to use : these symptoms returned in this 
 order every day for five or six weeks. 
 
 " These conversations were quite consistent, and 
 we could understand what she supposed her imagi- 
 narv companions to answer, by the continuation of 
 her part of the discourse. Sometimes she was 
 angry, at other times showed much wit and vivacity, 
 but was most frequently inclined to melancholy. 
 In these reveries, she sometimes sung over some 
 music with accuracy, and repeated whole passages 
 from the English Poets. In repeating some lines 
 from Mr. Pope's works, she had forgot one word, 
 and began again, endeavouring to recollect it; when 
 she came to the forgotten word it was shouted 
 aloud in her ears, and this repeatedly, to no pur- 
 pose ; but by many trials she at length regained it 
 herself. 
 
 " Those paroxysms were terminated with the 
 appearance of inexpressible surprise and great fear, 
 from which she was some minutes in recovering 
 herself, calling on her sister with great agitation, 
 and very frequently underwent a repetition of con- 
 vulsions, apparently from the pain of fear. 
 
 " After having thus returned for about an hour 
 a-day, for two or three weeks, the reveries seemed 
 to become less complete, and some of the circum- 
 
190 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 Stances varied, so that she could walk about the 
 room in them, without running against any of the 
 furniture ; though these motions were at first very 
 unsteady and tottering. And, afterwards, she once 
 drank a dish of tea, when the whole apparatus of 
 the tea-table was set before her, and expressed 
 some suspicion that a medicine was put into it; and 
 once seemed to smell at a tuberose, which was in 
 flower in her chamber, and deliberated aloud about 
 breaking it from the stem, saying, < It would make 
 her sister so charmingly angry.' At another time, 
 in her melancholy moments, she heard the bell, and 
 then taking ofl^ one of her shoes as she sat upon the 
 bed, * I love the colour black,' says she ; * a little 
 wider and a little longer, and even this might make 
 me a coffin !' Yet it is evident she was not sensible 
 at this time, any more than formerly, of seeing or 
 hearing any person about her ; indeed, when great 
 light was thrown upon her by opening the shutters 
 of the window, she seemed less melancholy ; and 
 when I have forcibly held her hands, or covered 
 her eyes, she appeared to grow impatient, and 
 would say, she could not tell what to do, for she 
 could neither see nor move. In all these circum- 
 stances, her pulse continued unaffected, is in 
 health. And when tlie paroxysm was over, slit* 
 
SLEEP-TALKING. 191 
 
 could never recollect a single idea of what had 
 
 Equally extraordinary is the following instance 
 of combined sleep-talking and somnambulism : — 
 
 "A remarkable instance of this affection occurred 
 to a lad named George David, sixteen years and a 
 half old, in the service of Mr. Hewson, butcher, of 
 Bridge-Road, Lam.beth. At about twenty minutes 
 after nine o'clock, the lad bent forward in his chair, 
 and rested his forehead on his hands, and in ten 
 minutes started up, went for his whip, put on his 
 one spur, and went thence to the stable ; not find- 
 ing his own saddle in the proper place, he returned 
 to the house and asked for it. Being asked what 
 he wanted with it, he replied to go his rounds. He 
 returned to the stable, got on the horse without the 
 saddle, and was proceeding to leave the stable : it 
 was with much difficulty and force that Mr. Hewson, 
 junior, assisted by the other lad, could remove him 
 from the horse ; his strength was great, and it was 
 with difficulty he was brought in doors. Mr. Hew- 
 son, senior, coming home at this time, sent for Mr. 
 Benjamin Ridge, an eminent practitioner, in Bridge- 
 Road, who stood by him for a quarter of an hour, 
 
 * Darwin's " Zoonomia." 
 
192 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 during which time the lad considered himself as 
 stopped at the turnpike-gate, and took sixpence out 
 of his pocket to be changed ; and holding out his 
 hand for the change, the sixpence was returned to 
 him. He immediately observed, * None of your 
 nonsense — that is the sixpence again ; give me my 
 change ;' when twopence halfpenny was given to 
 him, he counted it over, and said, ' None of your 
 gammon ; that is not right ; I want a penny more;' 
 making the threepence halfpenny, which was his 
 proper change. He then said, ' Give me my castor,' 
 (meaning his liat,) which slang term he had been in 
 the habit of using, and then began to whip and spur 
 to get his horse on. His pulse at this time was 136, 
 full and hard ; no change of countenance could be 
 observed, nor any spasmodic affection of the muscles, 
 the eyes remaining close the whole of the time. His 
 coat was taken off his arm, shirt-sleeves tucked up. 
 and y\r. Ridge bled him to 32 ounces; no alteration 
 had taken place in him during the first part of the 
 time the blood was flowing; at about 1?4 ounces, thi* 
 pulse began to decrease; and when the full quantity 
 named above had been taken, it was at 80 — a slight 
 perspiration on the forehead. During the time of 
 bleeding, Mr. Hewson related a circumstance of a 
 Mr. Harris, optician, in Ilolborn, whose son. some 
 
SLEEP-TALKING. 193 
 
 years since, walked out on the parapet of the house 
 in his sleep. The boy joined the conversation, and 
 observed, ' He lived at the corner of Brownlow- 
 Street.' After the arm was tied up, he unlaced one 
 boot, and said he would go to bed: in three 
 minutes from this time, he awoke, got up, and asked 
 what was the matter, (having then been one hour 
 in the trance,) not having the slightest recollection 
 of any thing that bad passed, and wondered at his 
 arm being tied up, and at the blood, &c. A strong 
 aperient medicine was then administered : he went 
 to bed, slept well, and the next day appeared per- 
 fectly well, excepting debility from the bleeding, and 
 operation of the medicine, and has no recollection 
 whatever of what had taken place. None of his 
 family or himself were ever affected in this way 
 before."* 
 
 Sleep-talking is generally such a trival affection 
 as not to require any treatment whatever. In every 
 case the digestive organs must be attended to, and, 
 if disordered, put to rights by suitable medicines. 
 And should the affection proceed, or be supposed 
 to proceed, from hypochondria, hysteria, or the 
 prevalence of any strong mental emotion, these 
 
 * Lancet, vol. i. 
 K 
 
194 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 States must be treated according to general prin- 
 ciples. When it arises from idiosyncrasy, and 
 becomes habitual, I believe that no means which 
 can bo adopted will be of much avail. As, in the 
 case of somnambulism, it very frequently happens 
 that the affection, after continuing for a long time 
 and baffling every species of treatment, disappears 
 spontaneously. 
 
SLEEPLESSNESS. 195 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 (SLEEPLESSNESS. 
 
 Sleep takes place as soon as the sensorial power 
 that keeps the brain awake is expended, which, 
 under common circumstances, occurs at our ordi- 
 nary hour of going to rest, or even sooner, if any- 
 soporific cause sufficiently strong should chance to 
 operate. But the above power may be increased 
 by various means, as in cases of physical suffer- 
 ing, or excited imagination, and, consequently, is 
 not expended at the usual time. In this case, the 
 person remains awake, and continues so till the 
 period of its expenditure, which may not happen for 
 several hours after he lies down, or even not at all, 
 during the whole of that night. Now, whatever 
 increases the sensorial power, whether it be balls, 
 
196 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 concerts, grief, joy, or bodily pain, is prejudicial to 
 repose. By them the mind is exalted to a pitch of 
 unnatural action, from which it is necessary it 
 should descend before it can roll into the calm 
 channel of sleep. 
 
 Whatever stimulates the external senses, however 
 slightly, may prevent sleep. Thus, the ticking of 
 a clock has this effect with very sensitive people ; 
 and a candle burning in the chamber is attended with 
 the same result. Even when the eyes are shut this 
 may take place, for the eye-lids are sufficiently 
 transparent to transmit a sense of light to the retina. 
 For the same reason, the light of day peering in at 
 the window may awake us from or prevent slum- 
 ber. It is said that Napoleon could never sleep if 
 exposed to the influence of light, although, in other 
 circumstances, slumber appeared at his bidding with 
 surprising readiness. 
 
 A constitutional restlessness is sometimes brought 
 on by habitually neglecting to solicit sleep when 
 we lie down, by which means the brain is brought 
 into such a state of irritability, that wo can hardly 
 sleep at all. Chronic wakefulness, originating from 
 any mental or bodily affection, sometimes degene- 
 rates into a habit, in which the sufferer will remain 
 for weeks, months, or even years, if authors are t<» 
 
SLEEPLESSNESS. 197 
 
 be believed, awake. In the disease called delirium 
 tremens, wakefulness is a constant symptom, and 
 frequently continues for many successive days and 
 nights. It is also an attendant upon all disorders 
 accompanied by acute suffering, especially when the 
 brain is affected, as in phrenitis, or fever. Maniacs, 
 from the excited state of their sensorium, are 
 remarkably subject to want of sleep; and this symp- 
 tom is often so obstinate as to resist the most 
 powerful remedies we can venture to prescribe. 
 
 Certain stimulating agents, such as tea or coffee, 
 taken shortly before going to bed, have often the 
 effect of preventing sleep. I would impute this to 
 their irritative properties, which, by supplying the 
 brain with fresh sensorial power, enable it to carry 
 on uninterruptedly all its functions longer than it 
 would otherwise do, and consequently prevent it 
 from relapsing into slumber at the usual period. 
 
 Any uneasy bodily feeling has the same effect — 
 both preventing the accession of sleep, and arousing 
 us from it when it has fairly taken place. Thus, 
 while moderate fatigue provokes slumber, excessive 
 fatigue, owing to the pain and irritation it neces- 
 sarily occasions, drives it away. Sickness, cold, heat, 
 pregnancy, the ordinary calls of nature, a disagree- 
 able bed, the want of an accustomed supper, too 
 
198 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 heavy a supper, or uneasiness of any kind, have 
 the same result. Cold is most apt to induce sleep- 
 lessness, when partial, especially if it be confined 
 to the feet ; for, when general and suflSciently in- 
 tense, it has the opposite eflFect, and gives rise to 
 drowsiness. Certain diseases, such as heraicrania, 
 tic doloureux, &c., have actually kept the person 
 awake for three saccessive months ; and all painful 
 affections prevent sleep more or less. But the most 
 violent tortures cannot altogether banish, however 
 much they may retard it. Sooner or later the 
 fatigue, which a want of it occasions, prevails, and 
 slumber ultimately ensues. 
 
 Sleeplessness is sometimes produced by a sense 
 of burning heat in the soles of the feet and palms of 
 the hands, to which certain individuals are subject 
 some time after lying down. This seems to proceed 
 from a want of perspiration in those parts, owing 
 generally to impaired digestion. 
 
 Mental emotions, of every description, are un- 
 favourable to repose. If a man, as soon as he lays 
 his head upon the pillow, can banish thinking, he is 
 morally certain to fall asleep. There are many 
 individuals so constituted, that they can do this 
 without effort, and tlie consequence is, they an* 
 excellent sleepers. It is very different witli thos«' 
 
SLEEPLESSNESS. 199 
 
 whose minds are oppressed by care, or over- stimulat- 
 ed by excessive study. The sorrowful man, above 
 all others, has the most need of sleep ; but, far 
 from shedding its benignant influence over him, it 
 flies away, and leaves him to the communionship of 
 his own sad thoughts : 
 
 " His slumbers — li he slumber — are not sleep, 
 But a continuance of enduring thought." 
 
 It is the same with the man of vivid imagination. 
 His fancy, instead of being subdued by the spell 
 of sleep, becomes more active than ever. Thoughts 
 in a thousand fantastic forms — myriads of waking 
 dreams— pass through his mind, whose excessive 
 activity spurns at repose, and mocks all his en- 
 deavours to reduce it to quiescence. Great joy 
 will often scare away sleep for many nights ; but, 
 in this respect, it is far inferior to grief, a fixed 
 attack of which has been known to keep the 
 suff^erer awake for several months. Those who 
 meditate much, seldom sleep well in the early 
 part of the night : they lie awake, for perhaps two 
 or three hours, after going to bed, and do not fall 
 into slumber till towards morning. Persons of this 
 description often lie long and are reputed lazy by 
 
200 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 early risers, although, it is probable, they actually 
 sleep less than these early risers themselves. 
 Long-continued study is highly prejudicial to repose. 
 Boerhaave mentions that, on one occasion, owing 
 to this circumstance, he did not close his eyes for 
 six weeks. 
 
 Nothing is so hurtful both to the mind and body 
 as want of sleep. Deprived of the necessary por- 
 tion, the person gets wan, emaciated and listless, 
 and very soon falls into bad health : the spirit 
 becomes entirely broken, and the fire of even the 
 most ardent dispositions is quenched. Nor is this 
 law peculiar to the human race, for it operates with 
 similar power upon the lower animals, and deprives 
 them of much of their natural ferocity. An illus- 
 tration of this fact is afforded in the taming of wild 
 elephants. These animals, when first caught, are 
 studiously prevented from sleeping ; in consequence 
 of which, they become, in a few days, comparatively 
 mild and harmless. Restlessness, when long pro- 
 tracted, may terminate in delirium, or confirmed 
 insanity ; and, in many diseases, it is the most 
 obstinate symptom we have to struggle against. 
 By it alone, all the existing bad symptoms are 
 aggravated : and as soon as we can succeed in over- 
 
SLEEPLESSNESS. 201 
 
 coming it, every thing disagreeable and dangerous 
 frequently wears away, and the person is restored 
 to health. 
 
 In restlessness, both the perspiration and urinary 
 secretions are usually much increased ; there is also 
 an accession of heat in the system, and a general 
 feverish tendency, unless the want of sleep should 
 proceed from cold. 
 
 With regard to the treatment of sleeplessness, a 
 very few words will suffice : in fact, upon this head 
 little more can be said, than a recommendation to 
 obviate the causes from whence it proceeds, and it 
 will naturally disappear. I may mention, how- 
 ever, that when there is no specific disease, either 
 of body or mind, to which the want of sleep can be 
 imputed, the person should keep himself in as 
 cheerful a mood as possible — should rise early, if his 
 strength permits it, and take such exercise as to 
 fatigue himself moderately ; and if all these means 
 fail, that he ought to make use of opium. In all 
 cases of restlessness, indeed, this medicine must be 
 had recourse to, if the affection resists every other 
 remedy, and continues so long as to endanger 
 health. Those preparations of opium, the acetate 
 and muriate of morphia, have latterly been a 
 good deal used, and with excellent effect, for the 
 k2 
 
202 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 same purpose. When neither opium nor its pre- 
 parations agree with the constitution, it becomes 
 necessary to employ other narcotics, especially 
 hyosciamus or hop. A pillow of hops sometimes 
 succeeds in inducing sleep, when other means fail. 
 Such was the case with his late majesty, George 
 III., who, by this contrivance, was relieved from 
 the protracted wakefulness under which he labour- 
 ed for so long a time. In giving medicines to 
 produce sleep, great attention must be paid to the 
 disease which occasions the restlessness ; for, in 
 phrenitis, high fever, and some other disorders, it 
 would be most injurious to administer anodynes of 
 any kind. In such cases, as tlie restlessness is merely 
 a symptom of the general disease, its removal 
 will depend upon that of the latter. When, how- 
 ever, the acute symptoms have been overcome, and 
 nothing but chronic wakefulness, the result of de- 
 bility, remains behind, it then becomes necessary to 
 have recourse to opium, or such other remedies as 
 may be considered applicable to the particular case. 
 Studious men ought to avoid late re.iding; and, on 
 going to bed, endeavour to abstract their minds 
 from all intrusive ideas. They should try to circum- 
 scribe their thoughts within the narrowest possible 
 circle, and prevent them from becoming rambling 
 
SLEEPLESSNESS. 203 
 
 or excursive. I have often coaxed myself to sleep 
 by internally repeating, half a dozen of times, any 
 well known rhyme. While doing so, the ideas must 
 be strictly directed to this particular theme, and 
 prevented from wandering ; for sometimes, during 
 the process of repetition, the mind takes a strange 
 turn, and performs two offices at the same time, being 
 directed to the rhyme on the one hand, and to some- 
 thing else on the other; and it will be found that the 
 hold it has of the former, is oftentimes much weaker 
 than of the latter. The great secret is, by a strong 
 effort of the will to compel the mind to depart 
 from the favourite train of thought into which it 
 has run, and address itself solely to the internal 
 repetition of what is substituted in its place. If 
 this is persevered in, it will generally be found to 
 succeed ; and I would recommend all those who are 
 prevented from sleeping, in consequence of too 
 active a flow of ideas, to try the experiment. As 
 has been already remarked, the more the mind is 
 brought to turn upon a single impression, the more 
 closely it is made to approach to the state of sleep? 
 which is the total absence of all impressions. 
 People should never go to bed immediately after 
 studying hard, as the brain is precisely in that 
 state of excitement which must prevent sleep. The 
 
 t 
 
204 PHILOSOl»HY OF SLEEP. 
 
 mind ought previously to be relaxed by ligbt con- 
 versation, music, or any thing which requires little 
 thought. 
 
 In some cases of restlessness, sleep may be pro- 
 cured by the person getting up, and walking for a 
 few minutes about the room. It is not easy to 
 explain on what principle this acts, but it is certain, 
 that by such means sleep sometimes follows, where 
 previously it had been solicited in vain. It is 
 customary with some people to read themselves 
 into slumber, but dangerous accidents have arisen 
 from this habit, in consequence of the lighted 
 candle setting fire to the bed-curtains. A safer and 
 more effectual way is to get another person to 
 read ; in which case, sleep will very generally take 
 place, especially if the subject in question is not one 
 of much interest, or read in a dry monotonous 
 manner. When sleeplessness proceeds from the 
 heat of the weather, the person should lie very 
 lightly covered, and let the air circulate freely 
 through his room. A cold bath taken shortly 
 before going to bed, or spuuging the body with 
 cold water, will often ensure .» comfortable night's 
 rest in the hot season of the year. When it arises 
 from heat in the soles or palms, these parts should 
 be bathed with cold vinegar and water, before 
 
SLEEPLESSNESS. 205 
 
 lying down, and, if necessary, occasionally after- 
 wards till the heat abates, which usually occurs in 
 two or three hours. Attention must also be paid 
 to the stomach and bowels. 
 
 An easy mind, a good digestion, and plenty of 
 exercise in the open air, are the grand conducives to 
 sound sleep ; — and, accordingly, every man whose 
 repose is indiflFerent, should endeavour to make . 
 them his own as soon as possible. When sleepless- 
 ness becomes habitual, the utmost care ought to be 
 taken to overcome the habit, by the removal of 
 every thing that has a tendency to cherish it. 
 
206 FHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 DROWSINESS. 
 
 Drowsiness is symptomatic of apoplexy and some 
 other diseases, but sometimes it exists as an idio- 
 pathic affection. Tliere are persons who have a 
 <lisposition to sleep on every occasion. They do so 
 at all times, and in all places. They sleep after 
 dinner; they sleep in the theatre; they sleep in 
 rhunli. It is the same to them in what situation 
 they may be placed ; sleep is the great end of their 
 existence — their occupation — their sole employment. 
 Morpheus is the deity at whose shrine they worship 
 — the only god whose influence over them is omni- 
 potent. Let them he placed in .almost any circum- 
 stances, and their constitutional failing prevails. 
 It falls upon them in the midst of mirth ; it 
 
DROWSINESS. 207 
 
 assails them when travelling. Let them sail, or 
 ride, or sit, or lie, or walk, sleep overtakes them 
 — binds their faculties in torpor ; and makes them 
 dead to all that is passing around. Such are our 
 dull, heavy-headed, drowsy mortals, those sons and 
 daughters of phlegm — with passions as inert as ii 
 Dutch fog, and intellects as sluggish as the move- 
 ments of the hippopotamus or leviathan. No class of 
 society is so insufferable as this. There is a torpor 
 and obtuseness about their faculties, which render 
 them dead to every impression. They have eyes 
 and ears, yet they neither see nor hear ; and the 
 most exhilarating scenes may be passing before 
 them without once attracting their notice. It is not 
 imcommon for persons of this stamp to fall asleep 
 in the midst of a party to which they have been 
 invited: Mr. Mackenzie, in one of his Papers, speaks 
 of an honest farmer having done so alongside of a 
 young lady, who was playing on the harp for his 
 amusement. The cause of this constitutional dis- 
 position to doze upon every occasion, seems to be 
 a certain want of activity in the brain, the result of 
 which is, that the individual is singularly void of 
 fire, energy and passion. He is of a phlegmatic 
 temperament, generally a great eater, and very 
 destitute of imagination. Such are the general 
 
208 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 characteristics of those who are predisposed to 
 drowsiness : the cases where such a state coexists 
 with intellectual energy are few in number. 
 
 Boerhaave speaks of an eccentric physician who 
 took it into his head that sleep was the natural state 
 of man, and accordingly slept eighteen hours out 
 of the twenty-four — till he died of apoplexy, a 
 disease which is always apt to be produced by 
 excessive sleep.* 
 
 Cases of constitutional drowsiness are in a great 
 measure without remedy, for the soporific tendency 
 springs from some natural defect, which no medi- 
 cinal means can overcome. 
 
 Equally impossible of cure is the affection when 
 it arises, as it very often does, from old age. Even 
 long before this period of life, as at the age of fifty 
 or sixty, people very often get into somnolent 
 
 • " As arterial blood, when at rest, arquires the venous cha- 
 racter, and the slower its motion th»' greater is its tendency to 
 assume this character, it is evident that in congestion of bI'>od, 
 by which is i^imply meant an unusuid )|iiantity of blood in the 
 vessels of a part, not flowing with its usual freedom, the pai-t 
 affected has not its proper supply of perfectly arterial blood. 
 Thence congestion in the head must, even from this cause 
 alone, produce drowsiness, to say nothing of the effect of 
 pressure on the cerebral fibres," — Dlumetibach's Physiologt/, by 
 Elliotson, p. 2Sb, 4th edit. 
 
DROWSINESS. 209 
 
 habits, and are pretty sure to fall asleep if they 
 attempt to read, or even if they place themselves in 
 an easy chair before the fire. I know of no cure for 
 this indolent propensity, unless indeed the habit 
 arises, as it sometimes does, from corpulency, in 
 which case it is more manageable, in so far as its 
 cause is occasionally capable of being- removed. 
 
 Drowsiness sometimes proceeds from a fulness 
 of blood in the head, or a disordered state of the 
 digestive organs. When it originates from the 
 former cause, it becomes necessary to have recourse 
 to general or local blood-letting. The person, like- 
 wise, should use, from time to time, mild laxatives, 
 live temperately, and take abundance of exercise. 
 Medicines of a similar kind are necessary when the 
 affection arises from the state of the stomach and 
 bowels : so soon as these organs are restored to 
 health, the symptomatic drowsiness will naturally 
 disappear. 
 
 Persons who feel the disposition to drowsiness 
 gaining upon them, should struggle vigorously 
 against it ; for when once the habit is fairly estab- 
 lished, its eradication is very diflBcult. Exercise 
 of body and mind, early rising, and the cold bath, 
 are among the best means for this purpose. 
 
210 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 PROTRACTED SLEEP. 
 
 I HAVE already mentioned a few instances of indi- 
 viduals remaining for days or weeks in a state of 
 profound sleep. The nature of this extraordinary 
 affection is, in a great measure, unknown ; it arises, 
 in most cases, witiiout any obvious cause, generally 
 resists every method that can be adopted for 
 removing it, and disappears of its own accord. 
 
 The case of Mary Lyall, related in the Sth 
 volume of the " Transactions of the Royal Society 
 of Edinburgh," is one of the most remarkable in- 
 stances of excessive somnolency on record. Thi;* 
 woman fell asleep on the morning of the 27th of 
 June, and continued in that state till the evenini^ 
 of the 30th of the same month, when she awoke 
 
PROTRACTED SLEEP. 211 
 
 and remained in her usual way till the first of July, 
 when she again fell asleep, and continued so till the 
 8th of August. She was bled, blistered, immersed 
 in the hot and cold bath, and stimulated in almost 
 every possible way, without having any conscious- 
 ness of what was going on. For the first seven 
 days she continued motionless, and exhibited no 
 inclination to eat. At the end of this time she 
 began to move her left hand ; and, by pointing to 
 her mouth, signified a wish for food. She took 
 readily what was given to her ; still she discovered 
 no symptoms of hearing, and made no other kind 
 of bodily movement than of her left hand. Her 
 right hand and arm, particularly, appeared com- 
 pletely dead, and bereft of feeling ; and even when 
 pricked Avith a pin, so as to draw blood, never 
 shrunk in the least degree. At the same time, she 
 instantly drew back her left arm whenever it was 
 touched by the point of the pin. She continued to 
 take food whenever it was offered to her. For the 
 first two weeks, her pulse generally stood at 50, 
 during the third and fourth week about 60 ; and, 
 on the day before her recovery, at 70 or 72. Her 
 breathing was soft and almost imperceptible, but 
 during the night-time she occasionally drew it more 
 strongly, like a person who has first fallen asleep. 
 
212 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 She evinced no symptom of hearing, till about four 
 days before her recovery. On being interrogated, 
 after this event, upon her extraordinary state, she 
 mentioned that she had no knowledge of any thing 
 that had happened — that she had never been con- 
 scious of either having needed or received food, or 
 of having been blistered ; and expressed much sur- 
 prise on finding her head shaved. She had merely 
 the idea of having passed a long night in sleep. 
 
 The case of Elizabeth Perkins is also remarkable. 
 In the year 1788, she fell into a profound slumber, 
 from which nothing could arouse her, and remained 
 in this state for between eleven and twelve days, 
 when she awoke of her own accord, to the great 
 joy of her relatives, and wonder of the neighbour- 
 hood. On recovering, she went about her usual 
 business ; but this was only for a short period, for 
 in a week after she relapsed again into a >leej» 
 which lasted some days. She continued, with 
 occasional intervals of wakefulness, in a dozing 
 state for several months, when she expired. 
 
 There was lately at Kirklieaton a remarkable in- 
 stance of excessive sleep. A poor paralytic, twenty 
 years of age, was seldom, for the period of twelve 
 months, awake more than three hours in the 
 twenty-four. On one occasion he slept for tliree 
 
PROTRACTED SLEEP. 213 
 
 weeks : he took not a particle of either food or 
 drink; nothing could rouse him, even for a moment; 
 yet his sleep appeared to be calm and natural. 
 
 The case of Elizabeth Armitage of Woodhouse, 
 near Leeds, may also be mentioned. The age of 
 this person was sixty-nine years. She had been for 
 several months in a decline, during which she had 
 taken very little sustenance, when she fell into a 
 state of lethargic stupor, on the morning of the 1st 
 of July, 1827, in which condition she remained, 
 without uttering one word, receiving any food, or 
 showing any signs of life, except breathing, which 
 was at times almost imperceptible. In this state 
 she continued for eight days, when she expired 
 without a groan. 
 
 Excessively protracted sleep may ensue from the 
 injudicious use of narcotics. A very striking in- 
 stance of this kind occurred on 17th February, 1816, 
 near Lymington. In consequence of a complaint 
 with which a child had been painfully afflicted for 
 some time previous, its mother gave it an anodyne, 
 (probably laudanum,) for the purpose of procuring 
 it rest. The consequence was, that it fell into a 
 profound sleep, which continued for three weeks. 
 In this case, in addition to an excessive dose, the 
 child must have possessed some constitutional 
 
 ^ 
 
f 
 
 214 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 idiosyncrasy, which favoured the operation of the 
 medicine in a very powerful manner. 
 
 One of the most extraordinary instances of 
 excessive sleep, is that of the lady of Nismes, 
 published in 1777, in the "■ Memoirs of the Royal 
 Academy of Sciences at Berlin." Her attacks of 
 sleep took place periodically, at sunrise and about 
 noon. Tlie first continued till within a short time 
 of the accession of the second, and the second till 
 between seven and eight in the evening — when 
 she awoke, and continued so till the next sunrise. 
 The most extraordinary fact connected with this 
 case is, that the first Jittack commenced always at 
 day-break, whatever might ho the season of the 
 year, and the other always immediately after twelve 
 o'clock. During the brief interval of wakefulness 
 which ensued shortly before noon, she took a little 
 broth, which she had only time to do, when the 
 second attack returned upon her, and kept her 
 asleep till the evening. Her sleep was remarkably 
 profound, and had all the characters of complete 
 insensibility, with the exception of a feeble respira- 
 tion, and a weak but regular movement of th»' 
 pulse. The most singular fact connected with" her 
 remains to be mentioned. When the disorder had 
 lasted six montlis, and then ceased, she had an 
 
PROTRACTED SLEEP. 215 
 
 interval of perfect health for the same lengtli of 
 time. When it lasted one year, the subsequent 
 interval was of equal duration. The affection at 
 last wore gradually away ; and she lived, entirely 
 free of it, for many years after. She died in the 
 eighty-first year of her age, of dropsy, a complaint 
 which had no connexion with her preceding dis- 
 order. 
 
 There are a good many varieties in the pheno- 
 mena of protracted sleep. In some cases, the indi- 
 vidual remains for many days without eating or 
 drinking ; in others, the necessity for these natural 
 wants arouses him for a short time from his slumber, 
 which time he employs in satisfying hunger and 
 thirst, and then instantly gets into his usual state 
 of lethargy. The latter kind of somnolency is 
 sometimes feigned by impostors for the purpose of 
 extorting charity; on this account, when an instance 
 of the kind occurs, it should be narrowly looked 
 into, to see that there is no deception. 
 
 The power possessed by the body of subsisting 
 for such a length of time in protracted sleep, is 
 most remarkable, and bears some analogy to the 
 abstinence of the Polar bear in the winter season. 
 It is to be observed, however, that during slumber, 
 life can be supported by a much smaller portion of 
 
216 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 food than when we are awake, in consequence of the 
 diminished expenditure of the vital energy which 
 takes place in the former state. 
 
 All that can be done for the cure of protracted 
 somnolency, is to attempt to rouse the person by 
 the use of stimuli, such as blistering, pinching, the 
 warm or cold bath, the application of sternutatories 
 to the nose, &c. Blooding should be had recourse 
 to, if we suspect any apoplectic tendency to exist. 
 Every means must be employed to get nourishment 
 introduced into tlie stomach ; for this purpose, if the 
 sleeper cannot swallow, nutritious Huids should be 
 forced, from time to time, into this org^n by means 
 of Jukes' pump, which answers the purpose of filling 
 as well as evacuating it. 
 
SLEEP FROM COLD. 217 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 SLEEP FROM COLD, 
 
 This kind of sleep is so peculiar, that it requires 
 to be considered separately. The power of cold 
 in occasioning slumber, is not confined to man, but 
 pervades a very extensive class of animals. The 
 hybernation, or winter torpitude of the brown and 
 Polar bear, results from this cause. Those animals 
 continue asleep for months ; and do not awake from 
 their apathy till revived by the genial temperature 
 of spring. The same is the case with the hedge- 
 hog, the badger, the squirrel, and several species of 
 the mouse and rat tribes, such as the dormouse and 
 marmot : as also with the land tortoise, the frog, 
 and almost all the individuals of the lizard, insect, 
 and serpent tribes. Fishes are often found imbedded 
 
 L 
 
•218 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 ill the ice, and, though in a state of apparent death, 
 become at once lively and animated on being ex- 
 posed to heat. " The fish froze," says Captain 
 Franklin, " as fast as they were taken out of the 
 nets, and in a short time became a solid mass of ice. 
 and by a blow or two of the hatchet were easily split 
 open, when the intestines might be removed in one 
 lump. If, in this completely frozen state, they were 
 thawed before the fire, they recovered their anima- 
 tion. " Sheep sometimes remain for several weeks in 
 a state of torpitude, buried beneath wreaths of snow. 
 Swallows are occasionally in the same state, being 
 found torpid and insensible in the hollows of trees, 
 and among the ruins of old houses during the 
 winter season ; but with birds this more rarely 
 happens, owing, probably, to the temperature of 
 their blood being higher than that of other animals, 
 and thereby better enabling them to resist the cold. 
 Almost all insects sleep in winter. This is parti- 
 cularly the case with the crysalis, and such grubs 
 as cannot at that season procure their food. In 
 hybernating animals, it is impossible to trace any 
 peculiarity of structure which disposes them to 
 hybernate, and enables life to be sustained during 
 that period. So far, the subject is involved in 
 deep obscurity. According to Dr. Edwards, the 
 
SLEEP FROM COLD. 219 
 
 temperature of such animals sinks considerably 
 during sleep, even in summer. 
 
 Want of moisture produces torpor in some animals. 
 This is the case with the garden snail, which revives 
 if a little water is thrown on it. Snails, indeed, 
 have revived after being dried for fifteen years. Mr. 
 Baucer has restored the vibris tritici (a species of 
 worm) after perfect torpitude and apparent death 
 for five years and eight months, by merely soaking 
 it in water. The furcularia anostobea, a small mi- 
 croscopic animal, may be killed and revived a dozen 
 times by drying it and then applying moisture. 
 According to Spallanzani, animalculi have been re- 
 covered by moisture after a torpor of twenty-seven 
 years. Larger animals are thrown into the same 
 state from want of moisture. Such, according to 
 Humboldt, is the case with the alligator and boa 
 constrictor during the dry season in the plains of 
 Venezuela, and with the centenes solosus, a species of 
 hedge-hog, found in Madagascar ; so that dryness, 
 as well as cold, produces hybernation, if, in such a 
 case, we may use that term. 
 
 The power of intense cold in producing sleep, is 
 very great in the human subject, and nothing in 
 the winter season is more common than to find 
 people lying dead in fields and on the highways 
 
2*20 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 from such a cause. An overpowering drowsiness 
 steals upon them, and, if they yield to its influence, 
 death is almost inevitable. This is particularly the 
 case in snow-storms, in which it is often impossible 
 to get a place of shelter. 
 
 This state of torpor, with the exception perhaps 
 of catalepsy, is the most perfect sleep that can be 
 imagined : it approaches almost to death in its ap- 
 parent annihilation of the animal functions. Diges- 
 tion is at an end, and the secretions and excretions 
 suspended : nothing seems to go on but circulation, 
 respiration, and absorption. The two former are 
 extremely languid,* but thelattertolerably vigorous, 
 if we may judge from the qiiantity of fat which the 
 animal loses during its torpid state. The bear, for 
 example, on going to its wintry rest, is remarkably 
 • orpulent; on awaking from it, quite emaciated; 
 in which state, inspired by the pangs of hunger, 
 it sallies fortli witli redoubled fury upon its prey. 
 Life is sustained by thf absorption of tiiis fat, whicli 
 for months serves the animal as provision. Such 
 emaciation, however, is not common to all hyber- 
 
 * The extrtMuely lanjinitl, «»r almost suspended state of these 
 two functions, is dfinonstrati-d by the fact, that an animal in a 
 state of hybernation may be placed for an hour iu a jar of 
 l)ydrogen without sufforing death. 
 
SLEEP FROM COLD. 221 
 
 nating animals, some of whom lose little or nothin<( 
 by their winter torpitude. 
 
 Hybernation may be prevented. Thus tlie polar 
 bear in the menagerie at Paris never hybernated ; 
 and in the marmot and hedge-hog hybernation is 
 prevented if the animals be kept in a higher tem- 
 perature. It is also a curious fact, that an animal, if 
 exposed to a more intense cold, while hybernating, 
 is awaked from its lethargy. Exposing a hyber- 
 nating animal to light has also, in many cases, the 
 same effect. 
 
 Some writers, and Buffon among the rest, deny 
 that such a state of torpor, as we have here describ- 
 ed, can be looked upon as sleep. This is a question 
 into which it is not necessary at present to enter. 
 All I contend for, is, that the state of the mind is 
 precisely the same here as in ordinary sleep — that, 
 in both cases, the organs of the senses and of voli- 
 tion are equally inert ; and that though the condi- 
 tions of the secretive and circulating systems are 
 different, so many circumstances are nevertheless 
 identical, that we become justified in considering 
 the one in a work which professes to treat of the 
 other. 
 
 In Captain Cook's first voyage, a memorable 
 instance is given of the power of intense cold in 
 
222 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 producing sleep. It occurred in the island of Terra- 
 del-Fuego. Dr. Solander, Mr. Banks, and several 
 other gentlemen had ascended the mountains of that 
 cold region, for the purpose of botanizing and 
 exploring the country. " Dr. Solander, who had 
 more that once crossed the mountains which divide 
 Sweden from Norway, well knew that extreme 
 cold, especially when joined with fatigue, produces 
 a torpor and sleepiness that are almost irresistible. 
 He, therefore, conjured the company to keep moving 
 whatever pain it might cost them, and whatever 
 relief they might be promised by an inclination to 
 rest. * Whoever sits down,' said he, * will sleep; and 
 whoever sleeps, will wake no more.' Thus at once 
 admonished and alarmed, they set forward ; but 
 while they were still upon the naked rock, and before 
 tliey had got among the bushes, the cold became 
 suddenly so intense as to produce the effects that 
 had been most dreaded. Dr. Solander himself was 
 the first who felt the inclination, against which he 
 had warned otliers, irresistible ; and insisted upon 
 being suffered to lie down. Mr. Banks entreated 
 and remonstrated in vain ; down he lay upon the 
 ground, althougli it was covered with snow, and 
 it was with great dithculty that his friend kept him 
 from sleeping. Richmond, also, one of the black 
 
SLEEP FROM COLD. 223 
 
 servants, began to linger, having suffered from the 
 cold in the same manner as the Doctor. Mr. Banks, 
 therefore, sent five of the company, among Avhoni 
 was Mr. Buchan, forward, to get a fire ready at the 
 first convenient place they could find ; and himself, 
 with four others, remained with the Doctor and 
 Richmond, whom, partly by persuasion and entreaty, 
 and partly by force, they brought on ; but when 
 they had got through the greatest part of the birch 
 and swamp, they both declared they could go no 
 farther. Mr. Banks again had recourse to entreaty 
 and expostulation, but they produced no effect. When 
 Richmond was told that, if he did not go on, he 
 would in a short time be frozen to death, he answer- 
 ed, that he desired nothing but to lie down and die. 
 The Doctor did not so exrplicitly renounce his life; 
 he said he was willing to go on, but that he must 
 first take some sleep, though he had before told the 
 company, to sleep was to perish. Mr. Banks and 
 the rest found it impossible to carry them ; and 
 there being no remedy, they were both suffered to 
 sit down, being partly supported by the bushes; 
 and in a few minutes they fell into a profound 
 sleep. Soon after, some of the people who had been 
 sent forward, returned, with the welcome news that 
 a fire was kindled about a quarter of a ii(iile farther 
 
224 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 on the way. Mr. Banks then endeavoured to awake 
 Dr. Solander, and happily succeeded. But though 
 he had not slept five minutes, he had almost lost the 
 use of his limbs, and the muscles were so shrunk, 
 that the shoes fell from his feet : he consented to 
 go forward with such assistance as could be given 
 him, but no attempts to relieve poor Richmond 
 were successful." 
 
 It is hardly necessary to say any thing about the 
 treatment of such cases. If a person is found in a 
 state of torpor from cold, common sense points out 
 the necessity of bringing him within the influence 
 of warmth. AVhen, however, the limbs, &c., are 
 frost-bitten, heat must be very cautiously applied, 
 lest reaction, ensuing in such debilitated parts, 
 might induce gangrene. Brisk friction with u 
 cold towel, or even with snow, as is the custom 
 in Russia, should, in the first instance, be had 
 recourse to. When by this means the circulation 
 is restored, and motion and feeling communicated 
 to the parts, the heat may be gradually increased, 
 and the person wrapped in blankets, and allowed 
 some stimulus internally, such as a little negus, or 
 spirits and water. This practice should be adopted 
 from the very first, when the parts are not frost- 
 bitten ; but when such is the case, the stimulating 
 
SLEEP FROM COLD. 225 
 
 system requires to be used with great caution, and 
 we must proceed carefully, proportioning the stimu- 
 lus to the particular circumstances of tlie case. 
 
 If a person is unfortunate enough to be overtaken 
 in a snow storm, and has no immediate prospect of 
 extrication, he should, if the cold is very great, and 
 the snow deep, sink his body as much as possible 
 in the latter, leaving only room for respiration. 
 By this plan, the heat of the body is much better 
 preserved than when exposed to the influence of 
 the atmosphere, and life has a greater chance 
 of being saved ; for the temperature of the snow 
 is not lower than that of the surrounding air, 
 while its power of absorbing caloric is much less. 
 It is on this principle that sheep live for such a 
 length of time enveloped in snow wreaths, while, 
 had they been openly exposed, for a much less 
 period, to a similar degree of cold, death would 
 inevitably have ensued. 
 
 One of the best methods to prevent the limbs 
 from being frost-bitten in intensely cold weather, is 
 to keep them continually in motion. Such was the 
 method recommended by Xenophon to the Greek 
 troops, in the memorable " Retreat of the Ten 
 Thousand," conducted by that distinguished soldier 
 and historian. 
 
 l2 
 
^ 
 
 226 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 TRANCE. 
 
 There is some analogy between suspended anima- 
 tion and sleep. It is not so striking, however, as 
 to require any thing like a lengthened discussion of 
 the former, which I shall only consider in so far as 
 the resemblance holds good between it and sloop. 
 I have already spoken of that suspension of the 
 mind, and of some of the vital functions, which 
 occurs in consequence of intense cold: but there are 
 other varieties, not less singular in their nature. 
 The principal of tlicse are, fainting, apoplexy, 
 hanging, suft'ocation, drowning, and, especially, 
 trance. When complete fainting takes place, it has 
 many of the characters of death — the countenanco 
 being pale, moist, and clammy ; the body cold ; 
 
TRANCE. 227 
 
 the respiration extremely feeble; the pulsation of 
 the heart apparently at an end ; while the mind is 
 in a state of utter abeyance. It is in the latter 
 respect only, that the resemblance exists between 
 syncope and sleep ; in every other they are widely 
 different. The same rule holds with regard to 
 apoplexy, in which a total insensibility, even to 
 the strongest stimuli, takes place, accompanied 
 also with mental torpor. In recoverable cases of 
 drowning, hanging, and suffocation, a similar ana- 
 logy prevails, only in a much feebler degree ; the 
 faculties of the mind being for the time suspended, 
 and the actual existence of the vital spark only 
 proved by the subsequent restoration of the indivi- 
 dual to consciousness and feeling. 
 
 The most singular species, however, of suspended 
 animation is that denominated catalepsy, or trance. 
 No affection, to which the animal frame is subject, is 
 more remarkable than this. During its continuance, 
 the whole body is cold, rigid, and inflexible ; the 
 countenance without colour; the eyes fixed and 
 motionless : while breathing and the pulsation of 
 the heart are, to all appearance, at an end. The 
 mental powers, also, are generally suspended, and 
 participate in the universal torpor which pervades 
 the frame. In this extraordinary condition, the 
 
228 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 person may remain for several days, having all, or 
 nearly all, the characteristics of death impressed 
 upon him. Such was the case with the celebrated 
 Lady Russel, wlio only escaped premature inter- 
 ment by the affectionate prudence of her husband ; 
 and other well authenticated instances of similar 
 preservation from burying alive have been re- 
 corded. 
 
 The nature of this peculiar species of suspended 
 animation, seems to be totally unknown ; for there 
 is such an apparent extinction of every faculty 
 essential to life, that it is inconceivable how exist- 
 ence should go on during the continuance of the fit. 
 There can be no doubt, however, that the suspen- 
 sion of the heart and lungs is more apparent than 
 real. It is quite certain that the functions of these 
 organs must continue, so as to sustain life, althoui^h 
 in so feeble a manner as not to come under the 
 cognizance of our senses. The respiration, in par- 
 ticular, is exceedingly s^light ; for a mirror, held to 
 the mouth of the individual, receives no tarnish 
 whatever from his breath. One fact seems certain, 
 that the functions of the nervous system are wholly 
 suspended, with the exception of such a faint 
 portion of energy, as to keep up the circulatory and 
 respiratory phenomena : consciousness, in a great 
 
TRANCE. 229 
 
 majority of cases, is abolished; and there is nothing 
 wanting to indicate the unquestionable presence of 
 death, but that decomposition of the body which 
 invariably follows this state, and which never 
 attends the presence of vitality. 
 
 The remote causes of trance are hidden in much 
 obscurity ; and, generally, we are unable to trace 
 the affection to any external circumstance. It has 
 been known to follow a fit of terror. Sometimes it 
 ensues after hysteria, epilepsy, or other spasmodic 
 diseases, and is occasionally an accompaniment of 
 menorrhagia and intestinal worms. Nervous and 
 hypochondriac patients are the most subject to its 
 attacks ; but sometimes it occurs when there is no 
 disposition of the kind, and when the person is in 
 a state of the most seeming good health. 
 
 " A girl named Shorigny, about twenty-five years 
 old, residing at Paris, had been for two years past 
 subject to hysteria. On the twenty-eighth day 
 after she was first attacked, the physician who came 
 to visit her was informed that she had died during 
 the night, which much surprised him, as, when he 
 had left her the night before, she was better than 
 usual. He went to see her, in order to convince 
 himself of the fact ; and, on raising the cloth with 
 which she was covered, he perceived that though 
 
230 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 her face was very pale, and her lips discoloured, 
 her features were not otherwise in the least altered. 
 Her mouth was open, her eyes shut, and the pupils 
 very much dilated ; the light of the candle made no 
 impression on them. There was no sensible heat 
 in her body ; but it was not cold and flabby, like 
 corpses in general. The physician returned the 
 next day, determined to see her again before she 
 was buried ; and, finding that she had not become 
 cold, he gave orders that the coffin should not be 
 soldered down until putrefaction had commenced. 
 He continued to observe her during five days, and 
 at the end of that period, a slijrht movement was 
 observed in the cloth which covered her. In two 
 hours, it was found that the arm had contracted 
 itself; she began to move; and it was clear that it 
 had only been an apparent death. The eyes soon 
 after were seen opened, the senses returned, and 
 the girl began gradually to recover. This is an 
 extraordinary, but incontestible fact : the girl is 
 still alive, and a great many persons who saw Ikm- 
 while she was in the state of apathy described, are 
 ready to satisfy the doubts of any one who will 
 take the trouble to inquire."* 
 
 • 31 en tor. 
 
TRANCE. 231 
 
 The case which follows is from the Canton Gazette, 
 and is not less curious : — 
 
 " On the western suburbs of Canton, a person 
 named Le bought as a slave-woman a girl named 
 Leaning. At the age of twenty-one, he sold her 
 to be a concubine to a man named Wong. She 
 had lived with him three years. About six months 
 ago, she became ill, in consequence of a large impos- 
 thume on her side, and on the 25th of the present 
 moon died. She was placed in a cofl&n, the lid of 
 which remained unfastened, to wait for her parents 
 to come and see the corpse, that they might be 
 satisfied she died a natural death. On the 28th, 
 while carrying the remains to be interred in the 
 north side of Canton, a noise or voice was heard 
 proceeding from the cofl&n ; and, on removing the 
 covering, it was found the woman had come to life 
 again. She had been supposed dead for three 
 days." 
 
 The case of Colonel Townsend, however, is much 
 more extraordinary than either of the above-men- 
 tioned. This gentleman possessed the remarkable 
 faculty of throwing himself into a trance at 
 pleasure. The heart ceased, apparently, to throb at 
 his bidding, respiration seemed at an end, his whole 
 frame assumed the icy chill and rigidity of death ; 
 
232 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 while his face became colourless and shrunk, and 
 his eye fixed, glazed and ghastly: even his mind 
 ceased to manifest itself; for during the trance it 
 was as utterly devoid of consciousness as his body 
 of animation. In this state he would remain for 
 hours, when these singular phenomena wore away, 
 and he returned to his usual condition. Medical 
 annals furnish no parallel to this extraordinary case. 
 Considered whether in a physiological or meta- 
 physical point of view, it is equally astonishing and 
 inexplicable. 
 
 A variety of stories are related of people having 
 had circumstances revealed to them in a trance, of 
 which they were ignorant when awake : most of 
 these tales have their origin in fiction, although 
 there is no reason why they may not be occasionally 
 true; as the mind, instead of being in torpor, as is 
 very generally the case, may exist in a state analo- 
 gous to that of dreaming, and may thus, as in a 
 common dream, iiave long forgotten events impressed 
 upon it. 
 
 The following case exhibits a very singular 
 instance, in which the usual characteristic — a sus- 
 pension of the mental faculties — was wanting. It 
 seems to have been a most complete instance of 
 suspended volition, wherein the mind was active, 
 
TRANCE. 233 
 
 while the body refused to obey its impulses, and 
 continued in a state of apparent death. 
 
 " A young lady, an attendant on the Princess 
 
 , after having been confined to her bed, for 
 
 a great length of time, with a violent nervous dis- 
 order, was at last, to all appearance, deprived of 
 life. Her lips were quite pale, her face resembled 
 the countenance of a dead person, and the body 
 grew cold. 
 
 " She was removed from the room in which she 
 died, was laid in a coffin, and the day of her funeral 
 fixed on. The day arrived, and, according to the 
 custom of the country, funeral songs and hymns 
 were sung before the door. Just as the people were 
 about to nail on the lid of the coffin, a kind of per- 
 spiration M'as observed to appear on the surface of 
 her body. Tt grew greater every moment ; and at 
 last a kind of convulsive motion was observed in the 
 hands and feet of the corpse. A few minutes after, 
 during which time fresh signs of returning life 
 appeared, she at once opened her eyes and uttered 
 a most pitiable shriek. Physicians were quickly 
 procured, and in the course of a few days she was 
 considerably restored, and is probably alive at this 
 day. 
 
 " The description which she gave of her situation 
 
234 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 is extremely remarkable, and forms a curious and 
 authentic addition to psychology. 
 
 " She said it seemed to her, as if in a dream, that 
 she was really dead ; yet she was perfectly conscious 
 of all that happened around her in this dreadful 
 state. She distinctly heard her friends speaking, 
 and lamenting her death, at tlie side of her coffin. 
 She felt tliem pull on the dead-clothes, and lay her 
 in it. This feeling produced a mental anxiety, 
 which was indescribable. She tried to cry, but her 
 soul was without power, and could not act on her 
 body. She had the contradictory feeling as if she 
 were in her body, and yet not in it, at one and the 
 same time. It was ecjually impossible for her to 
 stretch out her arm, or to open her eyes, or to cry, 
 although she continually endeavoured to do so. 
 The internal anguish of her mind was, however, at 
 its utmost height when the funeral hymns began to 
 be sung, and when the lid of the coffin was about 
 to be nailed on. The thought that she was t(» be 
 buried alive, was the one that gave activity to her 
 soul, and caused it to operate on her corporeal 
 frame."* 
 
 The following is different from either of the fore- 
 
 * Psychological Magaziue, vol. v. part iii. page 15. 
 
TRANCE. 235 
 
 going ; I have given it on account of its singularity, 
 although it does not altogether come under the 
 denomination of trance. 
 
 George Grokatzhi, a Polish soldier, deserted 
 from his regiment in the harvest of the year 1677. 
 He was discovered, a few days after, drinking and 
 making merry in a common ale-house. The mo- 
 ment he was apprehended, he was so much terrified 
 that he gave a loud shriek, and was immediately 
 deprived of the power of speech. When brought 
 to a court-martial, it was impossible to make him 
 articulate a word ; nay, he then became as immove- 
 able as a statue, and appeared not to be conscious 
 of any thing that was going forward. In the prison, 
 to which he was conducted, he neither eat nor 
 drank. The officers and priests at first threatened 
 him, and afterwards endeavoured to soothe and 
 calm him, but all their efforts were in vain. He 
 remained senseless and immoveable. His irons 
 were struck off, and he was taken out of the prison, 
 but he did not move. Twenty days and nights 
 were passed in this way, during which he took no 
 kind of nourishment ; he then gradually sunk and 
 died." * 
 
 ♦ Bonetus, Medic Septentrion, lib. i. sec. xvi. cap. 6. 
 
236 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 It would be out of place to enter here into a 
 detail of the medical management of the first men- 
 tioned varieties of suspended animation, such as 
 drowning, strangulation, &c., &c.; and witli regard 
 to the treatment of trance, properly so called, a 
 very few words will suffice. 
 
 H we have reason to suppose that we know the 
 cause of the afl^ection, that, of course, must be 
 removed whenever practicable. We must then 
 employ stimuli to arouse the person from his torpor, 
 such as friction, the application of sternutatories 
 and volatile agents to the nostrils, and electricity. 
 The latter remedy is likely to prove a very power- 
 ful one, and should always be had recourse to 
 when other means fail. I should think the warm 
 bath might be advantageously employed. When 
 even these remedies do not succeed, we must trust 
 to time. So long as tiie body does not run into 
 decay, after a case of suspended animation arising 
 without any very obvious cause, interment should 
 not take place ; for it is possible that life may exist, 
 although, for the time being, there is every appear- 
 ance of its utter extinction. By neglecting this 
 rule, a person may be interred alive; nor can there 
 be a doubt that such dreadful mistakes have occa- 
 sionally been committed, especially in France, where 
 
TRANCE. 237 
 
 it is customary to inter the body twenty-four hours 
 after death. Decomposition is the only infallible 
 mark that existence is at an end, and that the grave 
 has triumphed. 
 
238 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 VOLUNTARY WAKING DREAMS. 
 
 The young and the imaginative are those who 
 indulge most frequently in waking dreams. The 
 scenes which life presents do not come up to the 
 desires of the heart ; and the pencil of fancy is 
 accordingly employed in depicting others more in 
 harmony with its own designs. Away into the 
 gloomy back-ground goes reality with its stern and 
 forbiddiiii,'- hues, and forward, in colours more daz- 
 zling than those of the rainbow, start the bright 
 and airy phantoms of imagination. " How often," 
 observes Dr. Good,* " waking to the roar of the 
 midnight tempest, while dull and gluttonous indo- 
 
 • Book of Nature, toI. iii. p. 422. 
 
VOLUNTARY WAKING DREAMS. 239 
 
 lence snores on in happy forgetfulness, does the 
 imagination of those who are thus divinely gifted 
 mount the dizzy chariot of the whirlwind, and pic- 
 ture evils that have no real existence ; now figuring 
 to herself some neat and thrifty cottage where 
 virtue delights to reside, she sees it swept away in 
 a moment by the torrent, and despoiled of the little 
 harvest just gathered in ; now following the lone 
 traveller in some narrow and venturous pathway, 
 over the edge of the Alpine precipices, where a 
 single slip is instant destruction, she tracks him 
 alone by fitful flashes of lightning ; and at length, 
 struck by the flash, she beholds him tumbling 
 headlong from rock to rock, to the bottom of the 
 dread abyss, the victim of a double death. Or 
 possibly she takes her stand on the jutting fore- 
 land of some bold, terrific coast, and eyes the foun- 
 dering vessel straight below ; she mixes with the 
 spent and despairing crew ; she dives into the cabin, 
 and singles out, perhaps from the rest, some lovely 
 maid, who, in all the bloom of recovered beauty, is 
 voyaging back to her native land from the healing 
 airs of a foreign climate, in thought just bounding 
 over the scenes of her youth, or panting in the 
 warm embraces of a father's arms." Sucli are 
 waking dreams ; and there are few who, at some 
 
240 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 happy moment or other, have not yielded to their 
 influence. Often under the burning clime of India, 
 or upon the lonely banks of the Mississippi, has 
 the stranger let loose the reins of his imagination, 
 calling up before him the mountains of his own 
 beloved country, his native streams, and rocks and 
 valleys, so vividly, that he was transported back 
 into the midst of them, and lived over again the 
 days of his youth. Or the waking drejim may 
 assume a more selfish cliaracter. If the individual 
 pines after wealtli, his mind may be filled with visions 
 of future opulence. If he is young and unmarried, 
 he may conjure up the form of a lovely female, 
 may place her in a beautiful cottage by the banks 
 of some romantic stream, may love her with un- 
 fathomable affection, and become the fondest and 
 most liappy of husbands. Tiie more completely a 
 person is left to solitude, the more likely is his 
 imagination t<> indiilii^o in such fancies. We seldom 
 build castles in the air in the mi<lst of bustle, or 
 when we liave any thing else to think of. Waking 
 dreams are the luxuries of an otherwise unem- 
 ployed mind — the aristocratic indulgences of tlie 
 intellect. As people get older and more conversant 
 with life in all its diversified features, they are little 
 inclined to indulge in such visions. They survey 
 
VOLUNTARY WAKING DREAMS. 241 
 
 events with the eye of severe truth, amuse them- 
 selves with no impracticable notions of fancied 
 happiness, and are inclined to take a gloomy, rather 
 than a flattering, view of the future. With youth- 
 ful and poetical minds, however, the case is widely 
 different. Much of that portion of their existence, 
 not devoted to occupation, is a constant dream. 
 They lull themselves into temporary happiness with 
 scenes which they know only to exist in their own 
 imagination ; but which are nevertheless so beauti- 
 ful, and so much in harmony with every thing their 
 souls desire, that they fondly clasp at the illusion, 
 and submit themselves unhesitatingly to its spell. 
 
 These curious states of mind may occur at any 
 time ; but the most common periods of their acces- 
 sion are shortly after lying down, and shortly before 
 getting up. Men, especially young men, of vivid, 
 sanguine, imaginative temperaments, have dreams of 
 this kind almost every morning and night. Instead 
 of submitting to the sceptre of sleep, they amuse 
 themselves with creatinga thousand visionary scenes. 
 Though broad awake, their judgment does not 
 exercise the slightest sway, and fancy is allowed to 
 become lord of the ascendant. Poets are notorious 
 castle-builders, and poems are, in fact, merelv 
 waking dreams — at least their authors were under 
 
 M 
 
•242 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 the hallucination of such dreams while composing. 
 Milton's mind, during the composition of Paradise 
 Lost, must have existed chiefly in the state of a 
 sublime waking dream ; so must Michael Angelo's 
 while painting the Sistine Chapel ; and, Thorwald- 
 son's, while designing the triumphs of Alexander. 
 In waking dreams, whatever emotion prevails has 
 a character of exaggeration, at least in reference to 
 the existing condition of the individual. He sees 
 every thing through the serene atmosphere of ima- 
 gination, and imbues the most trite circumstances 
 with poetical colouring. The aspect, in short, which 
 tilings assume, bears a strong resemblance to that 
 impressed upon tliem by ordinary dreams, and 
 differs chiefly in tins, that, though verging continu- 
 ally on the limits of extravagance, they seldom 
 transcend possibility. 
 
SPECTRAL ILLUSIONS. 243 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 SPECTRAL ILLUSIONS. 
 
 Of the various faculties with which man is endowed, 
 those which bring him into communication with 
 the material world, constitute an important class. 
 The organs of these faculties — termed perceptive — 
 are situated in the middle and lower parts of the 
 forehead. Their function is to perceive and re- 
 member the existence, phenomena, qualities and 
 relations of external objects. Individuality takes 
 cognizance of the existence of material bodies; 
 Eventuality y of their motions or actions ; Form, of 
 their shape ; Size, of their magnitude and propor- 
 tions ; Weighty of the resistance which they offer to 
 a moving or restraining power ; Colouring^ of their 
 colours; and Locality, of their relative position. 
 
•244 PHILOSOPHY or sleep. 
 
 Time and Number perceive and remember duration 
 and numbers ; Langvxige takes cognizance of artifi- 
 cial signs of feeling and thouglit: and Order de- 
 lights in regularity and arrangement. In ordinary 
 circumstances, the mode of action of these organs 
 is this. If any object — a horse for example — be 
 placed before us, the rays of liglit reflected from 
 its surface to our eye, form a picture of the animal 
 upon the retina or back part of that organ. This 
 picture gives rise to what, for want of more precise 
 language, is called an impression, which is conveyed 
 by the optic nerve to the cerebral organs already 
 mentioned ; and by them, in reality, the horse is 
 perceived. The eye and optic nerve, it will be 
 observed, do no more than transmit the impression 
 from without, so as to produce that state of the 
 internal organs which is accompanied by what is 
 ttMinod perception or sensation. When the horse 
 L-s withdrawn, the impression still remains, to a 
 certain extent, in the brain ; and though the animal 
 is not actually perceived, we still remember its 
 appearance, and can almost imagine that it is before 
 u«i. This faint semi-perception is called an iV/ea, 
 and diflfers from sensation only in being less vivid. 
 The brain is more highly excited when it perceives 
 a sensation," than when an idea only is present; 
 
SPECTRAL ILLUSIONS. 245 
 
 because, in the former case, there is applied, through 
 the medium of the senses, a stimulus from without, 
 which, in the latter case, is not present. If, how- 
 ever, the brain be brought by internal causes to a 
 degree of excitement, which, in general, is the result 
 only of external impressions, ideas not less vivid 
 than sensations ensue ; and the individual has the 
 same consciousness as if an impression were trans- 
 mitted from an actual object through the senses. 
 In other words, the brain, in a certain state, per- 
 ceives external bodies ; and any cause which in- 
 duces that state, gives rise to a like perception, 
 independently of the usual cause — the presence of 
 external bodies themselves. The chief of these 
 internal causes is inflammation of the brain ; and 
 when the organs of the perceptive faculties are so 
 excited — put into a state similar to that which 
 follows actual impressions from without — the result 
 is a series of false images or sounds, which are 
 often so vivid as to be mistaken for realities. During 
 sleep, the perceptive organs seem to be peculiarly 
 susceptible of such excitement. In dreaming, for 
 instance, the external world is inwardly represented 
 to our minds with all the force of reality : we speak 
 and hear as if we were in communication with 
 actual existences. Spectral illusions are phenomena 
 
246 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 Strictly analogous; indeed, they are literally nothing 
 else than involuntary waking dreams. 
 
 In addition to the occasional cause of excitement 
 of the perceptive organs above alluded to, there is 
 another, the existence of which is proved by nume- 
 rous facts, though its mode of action is somewhat 
 obscure. I allude to a large development of the 
 organ of Wonder. Individuals with such a develop- 
 ment are both strongly inclined to believe in the 
 supernaturality of ghosts, and peculiarly liable to 
 be visited by them. This organ is large in the head 
 of Earl Grey, and he is said to be haunted by the 
 apparition of a bloody head. Dr. Gall mentions, 
 that in the head of Dr. Jung Stilling, who saw 
 visions, the organ was very largely developed. A 
 gentleman who moves in the best society in Paris, 
 once asked Gall to examine liis head. The Doctor's 
 first remark was, *' You sometimes see visions, and 
 believe in apparitions." The gentleman started from 
 his chair in astonishment, and said that he had 
 frequent visions ; but never till that moment had he 
 spoken on the subject to any human being, through 
 fear of being set down as absurdly credulous. 
 How a large development of Wonder produces the 
 necessary excitement of the perceptive organs is 
 unknown, but the fact seems indisputable. 
 
SPECTRAL ILLUSIONS. 247 
 
 In former times, individuals who beheld visions, 
 instead of ascribing them to a disordered state of 
 the brain, referred them to outward impressions, and 
 had a false conviction of the presence of super- 
 natural beings. Hence the universal belief in ghosts 
 which in these periods prevailed, even among the 
 learned, and from which the illiterate are not yet 
 entirely exempt. 
 
 We read in history of people being attended by 
 familiar spirits : such was the case with Socrates 
 in ancient, and with the Poet Tasso, in modern 
 times ; their familiar spirits were merely spectral 
 illusions. " At Bissaccio, near Naples," says Mr. 
 Hoole, in his account of the illustrious author of 
 the Jerusalem Delivered, " Manso had an oppor- 
 tunity of examining the singular effects of Tasso's 
 melancholy, and often disputed him concerning a 
 familiar spirit which he pretended conversed with 
 him : Manso endeavoured in vain to persuade his 
 friend that the whole was the illusion of a disturbed 
 imagination ; but the latter was strenuous in main- 
 taining the reality of what he asserted, and to 
 convince Manso, desired him to be present at one 
 of the mysterious conversations. Manso had the 
 complaisance to meet him next day, and while they 
 were engaged in discourse, on a sudden he observed 
 
248 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 that Tasso kept his eyes fixed on a window, and 
 remained in a manner immoveable : he called him 
 by his name, but received no answer; at last Tasso 
 cried out, ' There is the friendly spirit that is come 
 to converse with me; look! and you will be con- 
 vinced of all I have said.' 
 
 " JNIanso heard him with surprise; he looked, but 
 saw'nothing except the sunbeams darting^ through 
 the window; he cast his eyes all over the room, 
 but could perceive nothing ; and was just going to 
 ask where the pretended spirit was, when he heard 
 Tasso speak with great earnestness, sometimes 
 putting questions to the spirit, sometimes giving 
 answers ; delivering the whole in such a pleasing 
 manner, and in suth elevated expressions, that he 
 listened with admiration, juid bad not the least 
 inclination to interrupt him. At last the uncom- 
 mon conversation ended with the departure of the 
 spirit, as appeared by Tasso's own words, who, 
 tiiriiinjj: to Manso, asked liini if his doubts were 
 removed. Manso was more amazed than ever; he 
 scarce knew what to think of his friend's situa- 
 tion, and waived any farther conversation on the 
 subject." 
 
 The visions of angels, and the communications 
 from above, with which religious enthusiasts are 
 
SPECTRAL ILLUSIONS. 249 
 
 often impressed, arise from the operation of spectral 
 illusions. They see forms and hear sounds which 
 have no existence; and, believing in the reality of 
 such impressions, consider themselves highly favour- 
 ed by the Almighty. These feelings prevailed very 
 much during the persecutions in Scotland. Nothing 
 was more common than for the Covenanter by the 
 lonely hill side to have what he supposed a special 
 message from God, and even to see the angel who 
 brought it standing before him, and encouraging 
 him to be steadfast in his religious principles. 
 Much of the crazy fanaticism exhibited by the dis- 
 ciples of Campbell and Irving, undoubtedly arises 
 from a similar cause; and it is probable that both 
 of these individuals see visions and hear superna- 
 tural voices, as well as many of their infatuated 
 followers. 
 
 Various causes may so excite the brain as to 
 produce these phantasmata, such as great mental 
 distress, sleeplessness, nervous irritation, religious 
 excitement, fever, epilepsy, opium, delirium tre- 
 mens, excessive study, and dyspepsia. I have 
 known them to arise without the apparent con- 
 currence of any mental or bodily distemper. I 
 say apparent, for it is very evident there must be 
 some functional derangement, however much it may 
 M 2 
 
250 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 be hidden from observation. An ingenious friend 
 has related to me a case of this kind which occurred 
 in his own person. One morning, while lying in bed 
 broad awake, and, as he supposed, in perfect health, 
 the wall opposite to him appeared to open at its junc- 
 tion with the ceiling, and out of the aperture came a 
 little uncouth, outlandish figure, which descended 
 from the roof, squatted upon his breast, grinned at 
 him maliciously, and seemed as if pinching and 
 pummelling Iiis slides. Tiiis illusion continued for 
 some time, and with a timorous subject might 
 have been attended with bad consequences ; but he 
 referred it at once to some disordered state of the 
 stomach under which he imagined he must have 
 laboured at the time, althougli he had no direct 
 consciousness of any such derangement of this organ. 
 The same gentleman has related to me the case of 
 one of his friends which attracted much notice at 
 the time it happened, from the mehuuholy circum- 
 stances that attended it. It is an equally marked 
 instance of hallucination arising without the indi- 
 vidual being conscious of any physical cause by 
 whicli it might be occasioned. It is as follows : — 
 Mr. H. was one day walking along the street, 
 apparently in perfect health, when he saw, or sup- 
 posed he saw, his acquaintance, Mr. C, walking 
 
SPECTRAL ILLUSIONS. 251 
 
 before him. He called aloud to the latter, who, 
 however, did not seem to hear him, but continued 
 moving- on. Mr. H. then quickened his pace for 
 the purpose of overtaking him ; the other increased 
 his also, as if to keep ahead of his pursuer, and 
 proceeded at such a rate that Mr. H. found it 
 impossible to make up to him. This continued for 
 some time, till, on Mr. C. coming to a gate, he 
 opened it, passed in, and slammed it violently in 
 Mr. H.'s face. Confounded at such treatment, the 
 latter instantly opened the gate, looked down the 
 long Jane into which it led, and, to his astonishment, 
 no one was visible. Determined to unravel the 
 mystery, he went to Mr. C.'s house ; and what was 
 his surprise when he learned that he was confined 
 to bed, and had been so for several days. A week 
 or two afterwards, these gentlemen chanced to meet 
 in the house of a common friend, when Mr. H. men- 
 tioned the circumstance, and told Mr. C. jocularly 
 that he had seen his wraith, and that, as a natural 
 consequence, he would soon be a dead man. The 
 person addressed laughed heartily, as did the rest 
 of the company, but the result turned out to be no 
 laughing matter ; for, in a very few days, Mr. C. 
 was attacked with putrid sore throat, and died ; and 
 
252 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 within a very short period of his death Mr. H, 
 was also in the grave. 
 
 Some of the most vivid instances of spectral illu- 
 sion are those induced by opium. Several of the 
 " English Opium-Eater's" visions were doubtless 
 of this nature. Dr. Abercrombie relates a striking 
 instance of the kind which occurred to the late Dr. 
 Gregory. <* He had gone to the north country by 
 sea to visit a lady, a near relation, in whom he felt 
 deeply interested, and who was in an advanced state 
 of consumption. In returning from the visit, he 
 had taken a moderate dose of laudanum, with the 
 view of preventing sea-sickness, and was lying on 
 a couch in the cabin, when the figure of the lady 
 appeared before him in so distinct a manner that her 
 actual presence could not have been more vivid. 
 Ho was quite awake, and fully sensible tliat it was 
 a phantasm produced by tlie opiate, along with his 
 intense mental feeling ; but he was unable by any 
 effort to banish the vision." Indeed, any thing 
 on which the mind dwells excessively may, by 
 exciting the perceptive organs, give rise to spectral 
 illusions. It is to this circumstance that tiie bereaved 
 
 • Iiuiuiries coiioeniing the IntflliMtu.nl I'owors, p. 357. 
 
SPECTRAL ILLUSIONS, 253 
 
 husband sees the image of a departed wife, to whom 
 lie was fondly attached — that the murderer is haunt- 
 ed by the apparition of his victim — and that the 
 living with whom we are familiar seem to be pre- 
 sented before our eyes, although at a distance from 
 us. Dr. Conolly relates the case of a gentleman, who, 
 when in danger of being wrecked near the Eddy- 
 stone lighthouse, saw the images of his whole family. 
 These illusive appearances sometimes occur dur- 
 ing convalescence from diseases. In the summer of 
 1832, a gentleman in Glasgow, of dissipated habits, 
 was seized with cholera, from which he recovered. 
 His recovery was unattended with any thing parti- 
 cular, except the presence of phantasmata — con- 
 sisting of human figures about three feet high, neatly 
 dressed in pea-green jackets, and knee-breeches of 
 the same colour. Being a person of a superior 
 mind, and knowing the cause of the illusions, they 
 gave him no alarm, although he was very often 
 haunted by them. As he advanced in strength the 
 phantoms appeared less frequently, and diminished 
 in size, till at last they were not taller than his 
 finger. One night, while seated alone, a multitude 
 of these Lilliputian gentlemen made their appear- 
 ance on his table, and favoured him with a dance ; 
 but being at the time otherwise engaged, and in no 
 
254 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 mood to enjoy such an amusement, he lost temper 
 at the unwelcome intrusion of his pigmy visiters, 
 and striking his fist violently upon the table, he 
 exclaimed, in a violent passion, " Get about your 
 business you little impertinent rascals I What the 
 devil are you doing here ?" when the whole assem- 
 bly instantly vanished, and he was never troubled 
 with them more. 
 
 It generally happens that the figures are no less 
 visible when the eyes are closed than when they 
 are open. An individual in the west of Scotland, 
 whose case is related in the Phrenological Journal,* 
 whenever he shut his eyes or was in darkness, saw 
 a procession move before his mind as distinctly as 
 it had previously done before his eyes. Some 
 years ago, a farmer from the neighbouriiood of 
 Hamilton informed me, witli feelings of great iiorror, 
 that lie had frequently the vision of a hearse drawn 
 by four blat k horses, which were driven by a bhick 
 driver. Not knowing the sonnc of this illusion 
 he was rendered extremely miserable by it : and, 
 to aggravate liis nnhappiness, was regarded by the 
 ignorant country people, to whom he told the story, 
 as having been guilty of some grievous crime. This 
 
 • Vol. ii. p. 111. 
 
SPECTRAL ILLUSIONS. 255 
 
 vision was apparent to him chiefly by night, and the 
 effect was the same whether his eyes were open or 
 shut. Indeed, so little are these illusions dependent 
 on sight, that the blind are frequently subject to them. 
 A respected elderly gentleman, a patient of my own, 
 who was afflicted with loss of sight, accompanied by 
 violent headachs and severe dyspeptic symptoms, 
 used to have the image of a black cat presented 
 before him, as distinctly as he could have seen it 
 before he became blind. He was troubled with 
 various other spectral appearances, besides being 
 subject to illusions of sound equally remarkable ; 
 for he had often the consciousness of hearing music 
 so strongly impressed upon him, that it was with 
 difficulty his friends could convince him it was 
 purely ideal. 
 
 Considering the age in which Bayle lived, his 
 notions of the true nature of spectral illusions were 
 wonderfully acute and philosophical. Indeed, he 
 has so well described the theory of apparitions, that 
 the modern phrenological doctrine on this point 
 seems little more than an expanded version of his 
 own. " A man," says he, " would not only be very 
 rash, but also very extravagant, who should pretend 
 to prove that there never was any person that 
 imagined he saw a spectre ; and I do not think that 
 
256 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 the most obstinate and extravagant unbelievers have 
 maintained this. All they say, comes to this : that 
 the persons who have thought themselves eye- wit- 
 nesses of the apparition of spirits had a disturbed 
 imagination. They confess that there are certain 
 places in our brain that, being affected in a certain 
 manner, ea:cite the image of an object which has no 
 real existence out of ourselves, and make the man, 
 whose brain is thus modified, believe lie sees, at 
 two paces distance, a frightful spectre, a hobgoblin, 
 a threatening phantom. Jhc like happens in the 
 heads of the most incredulons, eitlier in their sleep, 
 or in tlie paroxysms of a violent fever. Will they 
 maintain after this, that it is impossible for a man 
 awake, and not in a delirium, to receive, in certain 
 places of his brain, an impression almost like that 
 which, by the law of nature, is connected with the 
 appearance of a phantom." In one of Shenstone's 
 Essays, entitled, "An Opinion of Ghosts" the same 
 theory is dearly enunciated. 
 
 It is worthy of remark, that the phenomena of 
 apparitions are inconsistent with the prevalent 
 theory that the brain is a single organ, with every 
 part of which each faculty is connected. M'ero 
 this tlioory soiiml, the same cause that vivifies tiie 
 perceptive faculties must also vivify, or excite to 
 
SPECTRAL ILLUSIONS. 257 
 
 increased action, the propensities, sentiments, and 
 reflecting powers. This, however, is by no means 
 the case. 
 
 The case of Nicolai, the Prussian bookseller, 
 which occurred in the beginning of 1791, is one of 
 the most remarkable instances of spectral illusion 
 on record. " I saw," says he, " in a state of mind 
 completely sound, and — after the first terror was 
 over — with perfect calmness, for nearly two months, 
 almost constantly and involuntarily, a vast number 
 of human and other forms, and even heard their 
 voices, though all this was merely the consequence 
 of a diseased state of the nerves, and an irregular 
 circulation of the blood." " When I shut my eyes, 
 these phantasms would sometimes vanish entirely, 
 though there were instances when I beheld them 
 with my eyes closed ; yet when they disappeared on 
 such occasions, they generally returned when I 
 opened my eyes. I conversed sometimes with my 
 physician and my wife of the phantasms which at 
 the moment surrounded me ; they appeared more 
 frequently walking than at rest; nor were they 
 constantly present. They frequently did not come 
 for some time, but always reappeared for a longer 
 or shorter period either singly or in company, the 
 latter, however, being most frequently the case. I 
 
258 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 generally saw human forms of both sexes ; but they 
 usually seemed not to take the smallest notice of 
 each other, moving as in a market-place, where all 
 are eager to press through the crowd ; at times, 
 however, they seemed to be transacting business 
 with each other. I also saw, several times, people 
 on horseback, dogs and birds. All these phantasms 
 appeared to me in their natural size, find as distinct 
 as if alive, exhibiting dift'erent shades of carnation 
 in the uncovered parts, as well as in different colours 
 and fashions in their dresses, though the colours 
 seemed somewhat paler tlian in real nature; none 
 of the figures appeared particularly terrible, comical 
 or disgusting, most of them being of an indifferent 
 shape, and some presenting a pleasing aspect." 
 
 Perhaps the most remarkable visionary, of whom 
 we have any detailed account, was Blake the painter. 
 This extraordinary man not only believed in his 
 visions, but could often call up at pleasure what- 
 ever phantasms he wished to see ; and so far from 
 their being objects of annoyance, he rather solicited 
 than wished to avoid their presence. He wag in 
 the habit of conversing with angels, demons and 
 heroes, and taking their likenesses ; for they proved 
 most obedient sitters, and never showed any aver- 
 sion to allow him to transfer them to paper. 
 
SPECTRAL ILLUSIONS. 259 
 
 " His mind," says Mr. Cunningham, ** could con- 
 vert the most ordinary occurrences into something 
 mystical and supernatural." "*Did you ever see 
 a fairy's funeral, Madam ?' he once said to a lady 
 who happened to sit by him in company, ' Never, 
 Sir !' was the answer. ' I have,' said Blake, 
 ' but not before last night. I was walking alone 
 in my garden, there was great stillness among 
 the branches and flowers, and more than common 
 sweetness in the air ; I heard a low and pleasant 
 sound, and knew not whence it came. At last I 
 saw the broad leaf of a flower move, and under- 
 neath I saw a procession of creatures of the size 
 and colour of green and grey grasshoppers, bear- 
 ing a body laid out on a rose leaf, which they 
 buried with songs, and then disappeared. It was a 
 fairy funeral.' " On being asked to draw the like- 
 ness of Sir William Wallace, that hero immediately 
 stood before him, and he commenced taking his 
 portrait. " Having drawn for some time with the 
 same care of hand and steadiness of eye, as if a 
 living sitter had been before him, Blake stopped 
 suddenly and said, ' I cannot finish him — Edward 
 the First has stept in between him and me.' * That's 
 lucky,' said his friend, ' for I want the portrait of 
 Edward too.' Blake took another sheet of paper 
 
260 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 1 
 
 and sketched the features of Plantagenet ; upon 
 which his majesty politely vanished, and the artist 
 finished the head of Wallace."* The greater part 
 of his life was passed in beholding visions and in 
 drawing them. On one occasion he saw the ghost 
 of a flea and took a sketch of it. No conception 
 was too strange or incongruous for his wild imagi- 
 nation, which totally overmastered his judgment, 
 and made him mistake the chimeras of an excited 
 brain for realities. 
 
 What is called the Second Sight originated, in 
 most cases, from spectral illusions; and the seers of 
 whom we so often read, were merely individuals 
 visited by these phantoms. The Highland moun- 
 tains, and the wild lawless habits of those who 
 inhabited them, were peculiarly adapted to foster 
 the growtli of such impressions in imaginative 
 minds ; and, accordingly, nothing was more com- 
 inon than to meet with persons who not onlv 
 fancied they saw visions, but, on the strengtli of 
 tliis belief, laid claim to the gift of prophecy. The 
 more completely the miiul is abstracted from the 
 bustle of life; the more solitary the district in which 
 
 * Cunningham's Lives of the British Painters, Sculptors, 
 and Architect*, vol. ii., Life of Itlake. 
 
SPECTRAL ILLUSIONS. 261 
 
 the individual resides ; and the more romantic and 
 awe-inspiring the scenes that pass before his eyes, 
 the greater is his tendency to see visions, and to 
 place faith in what he sees. A man, for instance, 
 with the peculiar temperament which predisposes 
 to see, and believe in, spectral illusions, is informed 
 that his cliieftain and clan have set out on a dan- 
 gerous expedition. Full of the subject, he forces 
 their images before him — sees them engaged in 
 fight — beholds his chieftain cut down by the clay- 
 more of an enemy — the clansmen routed and dis- 
 persed, their houses destroyed, their cattle carried 
 off. This vision he relates to certain individuals. 
 If, as is not unlikely, it is borne out by the event, 
 his prophecy is spread far and wide, and looked upon 
 as an instance of the second sight; while, should 
 nothing happen, the story is no more thought of 
 by those to whom it was communicated. In some 
 instances, it is probable that the accidental fulfilment 
 of an ordinary dream was regarded as Second Sight. 
 The belief in fairies, no doubt, had also its origin 
 in spectral illusions. In the days of ignorance and 
 superstition nothing was more easy than for an 
 excited brain to conjure up those tiny forms, and see 
 them perform their gambols upon the green sward 
 beneath the light of the moon. 
 
262 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 The dimensions of the figures which are exhibited 
 in spectral illusions vary exceedingly. Sometimes 
 they appear as miniatures, sometimes of the size of 
 life, at other times of colossal proportions. The 
 same difi^erences apply to their colour. In one case 
 they are pale, misty, transparent; in another black, 
 red, blue or green. Sometimes we have them 
 fantastically clothed in the costume of a former 
 age, sometimes in that of our own. Now they 
 are represented grinning, now weeping, now in 
 smiles. " White or grey ghosts," says Mr. Simp- 
 son, " result from excited Form, with quiescent 
 Colourifif/, the transparent cobweb eft'ect being 
 colourless. Pale spectres, and shadowy yet coloured 
 forms, are the eflfect of partially excited Colouring, 
 Tall ghosts and dwarf goblins, are the illusions of 
 over-excited Size."" The jabbering of apparitions 
 arises from an excited state of that part of tlie brain 
 which gives us cognizance of sounds. This expla- 
 nation seems highly probable, or rather quite satis- 
 factory. There are point*?, however, which it is 
 likely no one will ever be able to explain. Why, 
 for instance, should the disordered brain conjure up 
 persons und faces rather than trees and houses f why 
 should a ghost be dressed in red rather than blue, 
 and wliy should it smile rather than grin ? These 
 
SPECTRAL ILLUSIONS. 263 
 
 are minutiae beyond the reach of investigation, at 
 least in the present state of our knowledge. 
 
 Mr, Simpson, in the second volume of the 
 Phrenological Journal, has published a case of 
 spectral illusion, which, for singularity and interest, 
 equals any thing of the same kind which has hitherto 
 been recorded. The subject of it was a young 
 lady under twenty years of age, of good family, well 
 educated, free from any superstitious fears, in per- 
 fect bodily health, and of sound mind. She was early 
 subject to occasional attacks of such illusions, and 
 the first she remembered was that of a carpet which 
 descended in the air before her, then vanished 
 away. After an interval of some years, she began 
 to see human figures in her room as she lay wide 
 awake in bed. These figures were whitish or rather 
 grey, and transparent like cohiveb, and generally 
 above the size of life. At this time she had acute 
 headachs, very singularly confined to one small spot 
 of the head. On being asked to indicate the spot, 
 she touched, with her fore-finger and thumb, each 
 side of the root of the nose, the commencement of 
 the eyebrows, and the spot immediately over the 
 top of the nose, the ascertained seats of Fornix Size, 
 and Lower Individuality. On being asked if the 
 pain was confined to these spots, she answered that 
 
264 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 some time afterwards it extended to the riglit and 
 left, along the eyebrows, and a little above them, 
 and completely round the eyes, which felt as if they 
 would burst from their sockets. On this taking 
 place the visions varied. The organs of Weightj 
 Colouring y Order, Number and Localiti/, were affected, 
 and the phantasmata assumed a change correspond- 
 ing to the irritated condition of these parts. " The 
 whitish or cobweb spectres assumed the natural 
 colour of the objects, but they continued often to 
 present themselves, though not always, above the 
 size of life." " Colouring being over-excited, began 
 to occasion its specific and fantastical illusions. 
 Bright spots, like stars on a back ground, filled the 
 room in the dark, and even in day-light; and sudden, 
 and sometimes gradual, illuminj'.tion of the room 
 during the night took place, so that the furniture 
 in it became visible. Innumerable balls of fire 
 seemed one day to pour like a torrent out of one of 
 the rooms of the house down the staircase. On 
 one occasion, the pain between the eyes, and along 
 the lower ridge of the brow, struck her suddenly 
 with great violence — when, instanth/, the room filled 
 with stars and bright spots. On attempting, on 
 that occasion, to go to bed, she said she was con- 
 scious of an inability to balance herself, as if she had 
 
SPECTRAL ILLUSIONS. 265 
 
 leen tipsy ^ and she fell, having made repeated efforts 
 to seize the bed-post ; which, in the most unaccount- 
 able manner eluded her grasp by shifting its place, 
 and also by presenting her with a number of bed- 
 posts instead of one. If the organ of Weight, situated 
 between Size and Colouring, be the organ of the 
 instinct to preserve, and power of preserving, equi- 
 librium, it must be the necessary consequence of 
 the derangement of that organ to overset the 
 balance of the person. Over-excited Number we 
 should expect to produce multiplication of objects, 
 and the first experience she had of this illusion, 
 was the multiplication of the bed-posts, and subse- 
 quently of any inanimate object she looked at." 
 
 " For nearly two years. Miss S. L. was free 
 from her frontal headachs, and — mark the coinci- 
 dence — untroubled by visions or any other illusive 
 perceptions. Some months ago, however, all her 
 distressing symptoms returned in great aggrava- 
 tion, when she was conscious of a want of health. 
 The pain was more acute than before along the 
 frontal bone, and round and in the eyeballs ; and all 
 the organs there situated recommenced their game 
 of illusion. Single figures of absent and deceased 
 friends were terribly real to her, both in the day 
 and in the night, sometimes cobweb, but generally 
 
 N 
 
266 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 coloured. She sometimes saw friends on the street, 
 who proved phantoms when she approached to 
 speak to them ; and instances occurred, where, from 
 not having thus satisfied herself of the illusion, she 
 affirmed to such friends that she had seen them in 
 certain places, at certain times, when they proved 
 to her the clearest alibi. The confusion of her 
 spectral forms now addressed her. — (Or</er affected.) 
 Tlie oppression and perplexity were intolerable, 
 when figures presented themselves before her in 
 inextricable disorder, and still more when they 
 changed — as with Nicolai — from whole figures to 
 parts of figures — faces and half faces, and limbs — 
 sometimes of inordinate size and dreadful deformity. 
 One instance of illusive Disorder^ which she men- 
 tioned, is curious ; and has the farther effect of 
 exhibiting (what cannot be put in terms except those 
 of) the derangement of the just perception of gravi- 
 tation or equilibrium. ( Weiyht.) One night as she 
 sat in her bed-room, and was about to go to bed, a 
 stream of spectres, persons' faces, limbs, in the most 
 shocking confusion, seemed to her to pour into her 
 room from tlie window, in the manner of a cascade ! 
 Although the cascade continued, apparently, in 
 rapid descending motion ; there was no accumula- 
 tion of figures in the room, the supply unaccount- 
 
SPECTRAL ILLUSIONS. 267 
 
 abiy vanishing, after having formed the cascade. 
 Colossal figures are her frequent visiters. (^Size.y 
 In the fifth volume of the Phrenological Journal, 
 page 319, a case is mentioned where the patient 
 was tortured with horrid faces glaring at her, and 
 approaching close to her in every possible aggrava- 
 tion of horror. " She was making a tedious re- 
 covery in child-bed when these symptoms troubled 
 her. Besides the forms, which were of natural 
 colour, though often bloody, she was perplexed by 
 their variation in size, from colossal to minute. 
 She saw also entire human figures, but they were 
 always as minute as pins, or even pin-heads, and 
 were in great confusion and numbers." " She 
 described the pain which accompanied lier illusions, 
 viz. acute pain in the upper part or root of the 
 nose, the seat of the organ of Form^ and all along 
 the eyebrows, which takes in Individuality ^ Form, 
 Size, Weight, Colouring, Order and Number^ In 
 the same volume, page 430, Mr. Levison relates, 
 that on asking an individual who saw apparitions, 
 whether or not he felt pain at any part of his head, 
 he answered, *' that every time before he experi- 
 enced this peculiar power of seeing figures, he 
 invariably felt pain in and between his eyes, and, in 
 short, all over the eyebrows." It does not appear, 
 
268 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 however, that pain is universally felt in such cases 
 in the lower part of the forehead. Dr. Andrew 
 Combe informs me that, so far as he has observed, 
 the pain, when it does exist, is more frequently in 
 the exciting organ, generally Wonder. 
 
 Spectral illusions constitute the great pathogno- 
 monic sign of delirium tremens. In this disease they 
 are usually of a horrible, a disgusting, or a fright- 
 ful nature ; the person being irresistibly impressed 
 with the notion that reptiles, insects, and all manner 
 of vermin are crawling upon him, which he is con- 
 stantly endeavouring to pick off — that he is haunted 
 by hideous apparitions — that people are in the room 
 preparing to murder and rob him, and so forth. In 
 the following case, with whit li I have been favoured 
 by Dr. Combe, the ilhisive appearances were of a 
 more pleasing kind than generally happen. " In a 
 case," says he, "of delirium tremens in an inn-keeper, 
 about wliom I was consulted, the spectral illusions 
 continued several days, and had a distinct reference 
 to a large and active cerebellum, (the organ of Ama- 
 tivcncss) conjoined with Wonder. The man refused 
 to allow me to look at a blister which had been placed 
 between his shoulders, ' because he could not take 
 off his coat before the ladies who were in the room.' 
 AVhen I assured hitn tliat xhvvv was nobodv in thf 
 
SPECTRAL ILLUSIONS. 269 
 
 room, he smiled at the joke, as he conceived it to be, 
 and, in answer to my questions, described them as 
 several in number, well dressed, and good-looking. 
 At my request he rose up to shake hands with 
 them, and was astonished at finding them elude 
 his grasp, and his hand strike the wall. This, 
 however, convinced him that it was an illusion, and 
 he forthwith took off his coat, but was unwilling to 
 converse longer on the subject. In a few days the 
 ladies vanished from his sight." 
 
 Spectral illusions are more frequently induced by 
 fever than by any other cause. Indeed, the pre- 
 monitory stages of most fevers are accompanied by 
 illusive appearances of one kind or another, such as 
 luminous bodies, especially when the eyes are shut, 
 hideous faces, streaks of fire, &c. ; and in the 
 advanced stages they are not uncommon. A medi- 
 cal friend has informed me, that when ill of fever 
 in Portugal, he was terribly harassed by the 
 vision of a soldier, whose picture was hanging in 
 the room. Removing the picture failed to dissipate 
 the illusion, which did not disappear till he was 
 conveyed to another apartment. Dr. Bostock, while 
 under a febrile attack, was visited by spectral illu- 
 sions of an unusual kind. The following are the 
 particulars of his case, as described by himself : — 
 
270 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 " I was labouring," says he, *•' under a fever, at- 
 tended with symptoms of general debility, especially 
 of the nervous system, and with a severe pain of 
 the head, which was confined to a small spot situated 
 above the right temple. After having passed a 
 sleepless night, and being reduced to a state of con- 
 siderable exhaustion, I first perceived figures pre- 
 senting themselves before me, which I immediately 
 recognised as similar to those described by Nicolai, 
 and upon which, as I was free from delirium, and 
 as they were visible about three days and nights 
 with little intermission, I was able to make my 
 observations. There were two circumstances which 
 appeared to me very remarkable ; first, that the 
 spectral appearances always followed the motion of 
 the eyes ; and, secondly, that the objects which 
 were the best defined and remained the longest 
 visible, were such as I had no recollection of ever 
 having previously seen. For about twenty-four 
 liours I had constantly before n\e a human figure, 
 the features and dress of which were as distinctly 
 visible as that (»f any real existence, and of which, 
 •"^ fter an interval of many years, I still retain tlie 
 most lively impression ; yet, neither at the time nor 
 since have I been able to discover any person whom 
 I had previously seen who resembled it. 
 
SPECTRAL ILLUSIONS. 271 
 
 <' During one part of this disease, after the dis- 
 appearance of this stationary phantom, I had a very 
 singular and amusing imagery presented to me. It 
 appeared as if a number of objects, principally 
 human faces or figures on a small scale, were placed 
 before me, and gradually removed like a succession 
 of medallions. They were all of the same size, and 
 appeared to be all situated at the same distance from 
 the face. After one had been seen for a few minutes, 
 it became fainter, and then another, which was more 
 vivid, seemed to be laid upon it or substituted in its 
 place, which, in its turn, was superseded by a new 
 appearance. During all this succession of scenery, I 
 do not recollect that, in a single instance, I saw any 
 object with which I had been previously acquainted, 
 nor, as far as I am aware, were the representations 
 of any of those objects, with which my mind was the 
 most occupied at other times, presented to me ; they 
 appeared to be invariably new creations, or, at 
 least, new combinations of which I could not trace 
 the original materials."* 
 
 The following very curious instance, is not less 
 interesting : the subject of it was a member of the 
 English bar. 
 
 * Bostock's Physiology, vol. iii. p. 204. 
 
272 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 " In December, 1823, A. was confined to his bed 
 by inflammation of the chest, and was supposed by 
 his medical attendant to be in considerable danger. 
 One night, while unable to sleep from pain and 
 fever, he saw, sitting on a chair, on the left side of 
 his bed, a female figure which he immediately re- 
 cognised to be that of a young lady who died aboul 
 two years before. His first feeling was surprise, 
 and perhaps a little alarm ; his second, that he was 
 suffering from delirium. With tliis impression, he 
 put his head under the bed-clothes, and, after trying 
 in vain to sleep, a-^ a test of tlie soundness of his 
 mind, he went through a long and complicated pro- 
 cess of metaphysical reasoning. Ho then peeped 
 out and saw the figurr iti the same situation and 
 position. He had a fiiv, hut would not allow a 
 candle or nurse in the room. A stick was kept by 
 his side to knock for the nurse when he required 
 her attendance. Heing too weak to move his hotlv, 
 he endeavoured to touch the figure with the stick, 
 but, on a real object being put upon the chair, the 
 imaginary one disappeared, and was not visible 
 again that night. 
 
 '' The next day he thpught of little but the visioir, 
 and exported its return without alarm, and with 
 some pleasure. He was not disappointftl. It took 
 
SPECTRAL ILLUSIONS. 273 
 
 the same place as before, and he employed himself 
 in observations. When he shut his eyes or turned 
 his head, he ceased to see the figure ; by interposing 
 his hand he could hide part of it ; and it was shown, 
 like any mere material substance, by the rays of 
 the fire which fell upon and were reflected from it. 
 As the fire declined it became less perceptible, and 
 as it went out, invisible. A similar appearance 
 took place on several other nights ; but it became 
 less perceptible, and its visits less frequent, as the 
 patient recovered from his fever. 
 
 " He says the impressions on his mind were 
 always pleasing, as the spectre looked at him with 
 calmness and regard. He never supposed it real ; 
 but was unable to account for it on any philoso- 
 phical principles within his knowledge. 
 
 " In the autumn of 1825, A.'s health was per- 
 fectly restored, and he had been free from any 
 waking vision for nearly eighteen months. Some 
 circumstances occurred which produced in him great 
 mental excitement. One morning he dreamed of 
 the figure, which stood by his side in an angry 
 posture, and asked for a locket which he usually 
 wore. He awoke and saw it at the toilet, with the 
 locket in its hand. He rushed out of bed and it 
 instantly disappeared. During the next six weeks 
 N 2 
 
274 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 its visits were incessant, and the sensations which 
 they produced were invariably liorrible. Some 
 years before he had attended the dissection of a 
 woman in a state of rapid decomposition. Though 
 much disgusted at the time, the subject had been 
 long forgotten ; but was recalled by the union of 
 its putrescent body with the spectres features. The 
 visits were not confined to the night, but frequently 
 occurred while several persons were in the same 
 room. They were repeated at intervals during the 
 winter ; but he was able to get rid of them by 
 moving or sitting in an erect position. Though 
 well, his pulse was hard, and generally from 90 to 
 100."* 
 
 In March, 1829, during an attack of fever, 
 accompanied with violent action in the brain, 1 
 experienced illusions of a very peculiar kind. They 
 did not appear except when the eyes were shut or 
 the room perfectly dark ; and this was one of the 
 most distressing things connected with my illness ; 
 for it obliged me either to keep my eyes opon or 
 to admit more light into the thamber than they 
 (ould well tolerate. I liad th«> consciousness of 
 shining and hideous faces grinning at n\v in tlit- 
 
 • Plimioloj^ioal Jounml. vol. v. p. 210. 
 
SPECTRAL ILLUSIONS. 275 
 
 midst of profound darkness, from which they glared 
 forth in horrid and diabolical relief. They were 
 never stationary, but kept moving in the gloomy 
 back ground : sometimes they approached within 
 an inch or two of my face : at other times, they 
 receded several feet or yards from it. They would 
 frequently break into fragments, which after floating 
 about would unite — portions of one face coalescing 
 with those of another, and thus forming still more 
 uncouth and abominable images. The only way I 
 could get rid of those phantoms was by admitting 
 more light into the chamber and opening the eyes, 
 when they instantly vanished ; but only to reappear 
 when the room was darkened or the eyes closed, 
 One night, when the fever was at its height, I had 
 a splendid vision of a theatre, in the arena of which 
 Ducrow, the celebrated equestrian was performing. 
 On this occasion I had no consciousness of a dark 
 back ground like to that on which the monstrous 
 images floated ; but every thing was gay, bright 
 and beautiful. I was broad awake, my eyes were 
 closed, and yet I saw with perfect distinctness the 
 whole scene going on in the theatre — Ducrow 
 performing his wonders of horsemanship — and the 
 assembled multitude, among whom I recognised 
 several intimate friends ; in short, the whole process 
 
276 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 of the entertainment as clearly as if I were present 
 at it. When I opened my eyes, the whole scene 
 vanished like tlie enchanted palace of the necro- 
 mancer ; when I closed them, it as instantly re- 
 turned. But though I could thus dissipate the 
 spectacle, I found it impossible to get rid of the 
 accompanying music. This was the grand march in 
 the Opera of Aladdin, and was performed by the 
 orchestra with more superb and imposing effect, 
 and with greater loudness, than I ever heard it 
 before: it was executed, indeed, with tremendous 
 energy. This air I tried every effort to dissipate, 
 by forcibly endeavouring to call other tunes to 
 mind, but it was in vain. However completely the 
 vision might be dispelled, the music remained in 
 spite of every effort to l)anish it. During the whole 
 of this singular state, 1 was perfectly aware of the 
 illusiveness of my feelings, and, though labouring 
 under violent headach, could not help speculating 
 upon them and ciulcavourini,'- to trace them to their 
 pr(>pcr ( awse. This theatrical vision continued for 
 about five hours ; the j)revious delusions for a couple 
 of days. The whole evidently proceeded from such 
 an excited state of some parts of the brain, as I 
 have already ailudtMl t«>. Llcalitt/, Wonder^ Form^ 
 Colour and Size, were all in intensely active opera- 
 
SPECTRAL ILLUSIONS. 277 
 
 tioii, while the state of the reflecting organs was 
 unchanged. Had the latter participated in the 
 general excitement, to such an extent as to be 
 unable to rectify the false impressions of the other 
 organs, the case would have been one of pure 
 delirium. 
 
 Spectral illusions can only be cured by removing 
 the causes which give rise to them. If they proceed 
 from the state of the stomach, this must be rectified 
 by means of purgatives and alterative medicines. 
 Should plethora induce them, local or general 
 blood-letting and other antiphlogistic means are 
 requisite. If they accompany fever or delirium 
 tremens, their removal will, of course, depend upon 
 that of these diseases. Arising from sleeplessness, 
 they will sometimes be cured by anodynes ; and 
 from nervous irritation, by the shower bath and 
 tonics. Where they seem to arise without any 
 apparent cause, our attention should be directed 
 to the state of the bowels, and blood-letting had 
 recourse to. 
 
278 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 REVERIE. 
 
 A sTATK of mind somewhat analogous to that which 
 prevails in dreaming, also takes place during reverie. 
 There is the same want of balance in the faculties, 
 which are almost iM|ually ill rc2:iilatod, and disposed 
 to indulge in similar extravagancies. Reverie pro- 
 ceeds from an unusual quiescence of the brain, and 
 inability of the mind to direct itself strongly to any 
 one point : it is often the prelude of sleep. There is a 
 defect in the dttention, which, instead of being fixed 
 on one subject, wanders over a thousand, and even 
 on these is feebly and ineffectively directed. We 
 sometimes see this while reading, or. rather, while 
 attempting to read. A\'e get over page after page, 
 but the ideas tak«' no hold whatever upon >i^ : we 
 
REVERIE. 279 
 
 are in truth ignorant of what we peruse, and 
 the mind is either an absolute blank, or vaguely 
 addressed to something else. This feeling every 
 person must have occasionally noticed in taking out 
 his watch, looking at it, and replacing it without 
 knowing what the hour was. In like manner he 
 may hear what is said to him without attaching 
 any meaning to the words, which strike his ear, 
 yet communicate no definite idea to the sensorium. 
 Persons in this mood may, from some ludicrous 
 ideas flashing across them, burst into a loud fit of 
 laughter during sermon or at a funeral, and thus 
 get the reputation of being either grossly irreverent 
 or deranged. That kind of reverie in which the 
 mind is nearly divested of all ideas, and approxi- 
 mates closely to the state of sleep, I have sometimes 
 experienced while gazing long and intently upon 
 a river. The thoughts seem to glide away, one by 
 one, upon the surface of the stream, till the mind 
 is emptied of them altogether. In this state we 
 see the glassy volume of the water moving past us, 
 and hear its murmur, but lose all power of fixing our 
 attention definitively upon any subject ; and either 
 fall asleep, or are aroused by some spontaneous 
 reaction of the mind, or by some appeal to the senses 
 sufficiently strong to startle us from our reverie. 
 
280 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 Grave, monotonous, slowly-repeated sounds — as of 
 a mill, a waterfall, an Eolian harp, or the voice of 
 a dull orator, have the effect of lulling the brain 
 into repose, and giving rise to a pleasing melan- 
 choly, and to calmness and inanity of mind. Uni- 
 form gentle motions have a tendency to produce a 
 similar state of reverie, which is also very apt to 
 ensue in the midst of perfect silence : hence, in 
 walking alone in the country where there is no 
 sound to distract our meditations, we frequently 
 get into this state. It is also apt to take place 
 when we are seated without books, companions, 
 or amusement of any kind, by the hearth on a 
 winter evening, especially whrii tiie fire is begin- 
 ning to burn out. wht'ii tlie candles are becoming 
 faint from want of topping, and a dim religious light, 
 like that tilling a liermit's cell fr(»m his solitary 
 lamp, is diffused over the apartment. This is the 
 situation most favourable for reveries, waking 
 dreams, and all kinds of brown study, abstraction, 
 ennui and hypochondria. 
 
 Reverie has beoii known to arise from the mind 
 sustaining temporary weakness, in consequence of 
 long and excessiv*' application to one subject. It 
 is also, I believe, frequently induced by forcing 
 young people to learn what they dislike. In this 
 
REVERIE. 281 
 
 case, the mind, finding it impossible to direct itself 
 to the hated task, goes wandering off in another 
 direction, and thus acquires a habit of inattention, 
 which, in extreme cases, may terminate in imbe- 
 cility. Sometimes reverie arises from peculiarity 
 of temperament, either natural or induced by men- 
 tal or bodily weakness. The best regulated minds 
 and strongest bodies may, however, and, in fact, 
 often have, occasional attacks ; but when the feeling 
 grows into a habit, and is too much indulged in, it 
 is apt to injure the usefulness of the individual, and 
 impair the whole fabric of his understanding. "It 
 is," says Dr. Good, " upon the faculty of attention 
 that every other faculty is dependent for its vigour 
 and expansion : without it, the perception exer- 
 cises itself in vain ; the memory can lay up no store 
 of ideas ; the judgment draw forth no comparisons ; 
 the imagination must become blighted and barren ; 
 and where there is no attention whatever, the case 
 must necessarily verge upon fatuity." I conceive 
 that persons in whom the organ of Concentrative- 
 ness is very small, are peculiarly apt to fall into 
 reverie. 
 
 The following is a remarkable instance of reverie 
 arising from excessive application : — The subject of 
 it was Mr. Spalding, a gentleman well known as 
 
•282 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 an eminent literary character in Germany, and 
 much respected by those wlio knew him. The case 
 was drawn up by himself, and published in the 
 Psycliological Magazine. 
 
 " I was this morning engaged with a great number 
 of people who followed each other quickly, and to 
 each of whom I was obliged to give my attention. 
 I was also under the necessity of writing much ; 
 but the subjects, which were various and of a trivial 
 and uninteresting nature, had no connexion the 
 one with the other ; my attention, therefore, was 
 constantly kept on the stretcli, and was continually 
 shifting from one subject to another. At last it 
 became necessary that 1 should write a receipt for 
 some money I had received on account of the poor. 
 I seated myself and wrote the two first words, but 
 in a moment found that I was incapable of proceed- 
 ing, for I conld not recollect the words whicli 
 belonged to the ideas that were present in my mind. 
 I strained my attention as much as possible, and 
 tried to write one letter slowly after the other, 
 always having an eye to the preceding one, in order 
 to observe whether they had tlu' usual relationship 
 to each other ; but I reinarke<l, and said to myself 
 at the time, that the chara«ters I was writing were 
 not those which I wished to write, and yet 1 could 
 
REVERIE. 283 
 
 not discover where tlie fault lay. I therefore de- 
 sisted, and partly by broken words and syllables, 
 and partly by gesture, I made the person who 
 waited for the receipt understand he should leave 
 me. For about half an hour there reigned a kind 
 of tumultuary disorder in my senses, in which I 
 was incapable of remarking any thing very parti- 
 cular, except that one series of ideas forced them- 
 selves involuntarily on my mind. The trifling 
 nature of these thoughts I was perfectly aware of, 
 and was also conscious that I made several efforts 
 to get rid of them, and supply their place by better 
 ones, which lay at the bottom of my soul. 1 en- 
 deavoured as much as lay in my power, considering 
 the great crowd of confused images which presented 
 themselves to my mind, to recall my principles of 
 religion, of conscience, and of future expectation ; 
 these I found equally correct, and fixed as before. 
 There was no deception in my external senses, for 
 I saw and knew every thing around me ; but I could 
 not free myself from the strange ideas which ex- 
 isted in my head. I endeavoured to speak in order 
 to discover whether I was capable of saying any 
 thing that was connected ; but although I made the 
 greatest efforts of attention, and proceeded with 
 the utmost caution, I perceived that I uniformly 
 
284 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 spoke other words than those I intended. My soul 
 was at present as little master of the organs of 
 speech, as it had been before of my hand in writing. 
 Thank God, this state did not continue very long, 
 for, in about half an hour, my head began to grow 
 clearer, the strange and tiresome ideas became less 
 vivid and turbulent, and I could command my own 
 thoughts with less interruption. 
 
 " I now wished to ring for ray servant, and desire 
 him to inform my wife to come to me; but I found 
 it still necessary to wait a little longer to exercise 
 myself in the right pronunciation of the few words 
 I had to say: and the first half hour's conversation 
 I had with her was, on my part, preserved witli a 
 slow and anxious circumspection, until at last I 
 gradually found myself as clear and serene as in 
 the beginning of the day. All tliat now remained 
 was a slight headach. I recollected the receipt I 
 had begun to write, and in which I knew I had 
 blundered ; and upon examining it, 1 observed, to 
 my great astonishment, that instead of the words 
 //^// dollars, Iwing one half year s rate, which 1 ought 
 to have written, the words were Jifty dollars through 
 the salvation of Bra — , with a break after it, for the 
 word Bra was at the end of a line. I cannot 
 recollect any perception, or business which I had 
 
REVERIE. 285 
 
 to transact, that could, by means of an obscure 
 influence, have produced this phenomenon." 
 
 Reverie, when proceeding, as in this case, from 
 excessive application, will seldom be difficult of 
 cure : the removal of the exciting cause will of itself 
 naturally constitute the remedy. When it arises 
 from such a defect in education as that already 
 mentioned, the cure will be more difficult, although 
 even then it is not always impracticable. In such 
 a case, the person should be strongly directed to 
 those subjects in which he feels most interest, and 
 never be made to study what he has not a positive 
 liking for. Active employment, and gay and 
 pleasant society, may effect much in restoring the 
 intellectual balance. In all cases whatever, he 
 should never be left long alone ; as nothing has 
 such a tendency to foster this state of mind as 
 solitude. 
 
286 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 ABSTRACTION. 
 
 Abstraction, or absence of mind, has been con- 
 founded witli reverie, but it is, in reality, a differ- 
 ent intellectual operation ; for as in the latter a 
 difficulty is experienced in making the mind bear 
 strongly on any one point, in tlie former its whole 
 energies are concentrated towards a single focus, 
 and every otlicr circumstance is, for the time, 
 utterly forgotten. Such was the case with Sir 
 Isaac Newton, when, in a fit of absence, he made a 
 tobacco-stopper of the lady s finger, and with Archi- 
 medes, who remained unconscious and unmoved 
 during the noise and slaughter of captured Syra- 
 cuse. Though, in general, abstraction is easily 
 broken by outward impressions, there have been 
 
ABSTRACTION. 287 
 
 instances where it has been so powerful as to 
 render the individuals labouring under it insensible 
 to pain. Pinel in his Nosographie Philosophique 
 speaks of a priest who in a fit of mental absence 
 was unconscious of the pain of burning : and Cardan 
 brought himself into such a state as to be insensible 
 to all external impressions. 
 
 Some men are naturally very absent ; others 
 acquire this habit from particular pursuits, such as 
 mathematics, and other studies demanding much 
 calculation. Indeed, all studies which require deep 
 thinking, are apt to induce mental absence, in con- 
 sequence of the sensorial power being drained from 
 the general circumference of the mind, and directed 
 strongly to a certain point. This draining, while 
 it invigorates the organ of the particular faculty 
 towards which the sensorial energy is concentrated, 
 leaves the others in an inanimate state, and incapa- 
 citates them from performing their proper func- 
 tions ; hence persons subject to abstraction are apt 
 to commit a thousand ludicrous errors; they are 
 perpetually blundering — committing a multitude of 
 petty, yet harmless offences against established 
 rules, and for ever getting into scrapes and absurd 
 situations. Nothing is more common than for an 
 absent man to take the hat of another person 
 
288 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 instead of his own, to give away a guinea for a 
 shilling, to mistake his lodgings, forget invitations, 
 and so forth. When the fit of abstraction is very 
 strong, he neither hears what is said to him, nor 
 sees what is passing around. " While you fancy," 
 says Budgell, in the 77th No. of the Spectator, 
 " he is admiring a beautiful woman, it is an even 
 wager that he is solving a proposition in Euclid ; 
 and while you may imagine he is reading the Paris 
 Gazette, it is far from being impossible that he is 
 pulling down and rebuilding his country house." In 
 some cases the individual requires to be shaken before 
 he can be brought to take notice of any occurrence ; 
 and it is often dithcult to make iiini comprehend 
 even the simplest proposition. Abstraction, there- 
 fore, bears an analogy to dreaming : inasmuch as, in 
 each of these st.ites, some faculties are active, while 
 others are at rest. In dreaming, however, the organs 
 of the quiescent faculties are in a much deeper 
 slumber, and less easily roused into activity than in 
 abstraction : hence, in the great majority of cases, 
 abstraction is broken with greater facility than sleep. 
 It appears, from the observations of the Edin- 
 burgh phrenologists, that individuals who have a 
 large development of the organ of Concentrativeness 
 are peculiarly liable to fall into a state of abstrac- 
 
ABSTRACTION. 289 
 
 tion. The effect of such a development is fixity of 
 ideas — the power and tendency to think consecu- 
 tively and steadily upon one suhject. " In convers- 
 ing with some individuals," says Mr. Combe,* " we 
 find them fall naturally into a connected train of 
 thinking; either dwelling on a subject which interests 
 them, till they have placed it clearly before the mind, 
 or passing naturally and gracefully to a connected 
 topic. Such persons uniformly have this organ large. 
 We meet with others who, in similar circumstances, 
 never pursue one idea for two consecutive seconds, 
 who shift from topic to topic, without regard to 
 natural connexion, and leave no distinct impression 
 on the mind of the listener; and this happens even 
 with individuals in whom reflection is not deficient; 
 but this organ (Concerdrativeness) is, in such persons, 
 uniformly small." A good endowment of the power 
 in question adds very much to the efficiency of the 
 intellect, by enabling its possessor to apply his mind 
 continuously to a particular investigation, unannoyed 
 by the intrusion of foreign and irrelevant ideas. It 
 seems to have been very strong in Sir Isaac Newton, 
 whose liability to abstraction has already been allud- 
 ed to. " During the two years," says Biot, " which 
 
 * System of Phrenology, p. 135. 
 O 
 
290 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 he spent in preparing and developing his immortal 
 work, Philosophi(B Naturalis Principia Mathematica, 
 he lived only to calculate and to think. Oftentimes 
 lost in the contemplation of these grand objects, he 
 acted unconsciously ; his thoughts appearing to pre- 
 serve no connexion with the ordinary affairs of life. 
 It is said, that frequently, on arising in the morning, 
 lie Avould sit down on his bedside, arrested by some 
 new conception, and would remain for hours together 
 engaged in tracing it out, without dressing himself." 
 *' To one who asked him, on some occasion, by what 
 means he had arrived at his discoveries, he replied, 
 * By always thinking unto tliem.' And, at another 
 time, lie thus expressed his method of proceeding — 
 ' I keep the subject constantly before me, and wait 
 till the first dawning opens slowly, by little and 
 little, into a full and clear light.' Again, in a letter 
 to Dr. Bentley, he says, ' If I have done the public 
 any service this way, it is due to nothing but in- 
 dustry and patient thought.' " Biot mentions farther, 
 that, " in general, the intensity of thinking was 
 with him so great that it entirely abstracted his 
 attention from other matters, and confined him ex- 
 clusively to one object. Thus, we see that he never 
 was occupied at the same time with two different 
 scientific investigations." 
 
ABSTRACTION. 291 
 
 The instances of abstraction upon record are so 
 numerous that a volume might easily be filled with 
 them. Hogarth, the illustrious painter, affords a 
 good specimen. Having got a new carriage, he 
 went in it to the Mansion- House, for the purpose 
 of paying a visit to the Lord Mayor. On leaving 
 the house he went out by a different door from that 
 by which he entered, and found that it rained hard. 
 Notwithstanding this, he walked homewards, and 
 reached his own dwelling drenched to the skin. 
 His wife seeing him in this state, asked him how it 
 happened, and what had become of his carriage 
 since he had not returned home in it. The truth 
 was, that he had actually forgotten he had a car- 
 riage, or had gone in one at all. 
 
 The following case, from the pleasant style in 
 which it is told, will amuse the reader. 
 
 " It is a case of one of the most profound and 
 clear-headed philosophical thinkers, and one of the 
 most amiable of men, becoming so completely 
 absorbed in his own reflections, as to lose the 
 perception of external things, and almost that of 
 his own identity and existence. There are few that 
 have paid any attention to the finance of this coun- 
 try, but must have heard of Dr. Robert Hamilton's 
 * Essay on the National Debt,' which fell upon the 
 
292 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 Houses of Parliament like a bombshell, or, rather, 
 which rose and illuminated their darkness like an 
 orient sun. There are other writings of his in 
 which one knows not which most to admire — the 
 profound and accurate science, the beautiful arrange- 
 ment, or the clear expression. Yet, in public, the 
 man was a shadow ; pulled off his hat to his own 
 wife in the streets, and apologized for not having 
 the pleasure of her acquaintance; went to his classes 
 in the college on the dark mornings, with one of 
 her white stockings on tlie one leg, and one of his 
 own bhuk ones on the other; often spent the wiiole 
 time of the meeting in moving fn»m tlie table the 
 liats of the students, whidi they as constantly 
 returned ; sometimes invited them to call on him, 
 and then fined them for coming to insult him. He 
 would run against a cow in th«' road, turn round, 
 beg her pardon, ' Madam,' and hope she was not 
 hurt. At other times, he would run against posts, 
 and chide them for not getting out of his way; 
 and yet his conversation at the same time, if any 
 body happened to be with him, was perfect logic 
 and perfect music. >\'ere it not that there may be 
 a little poetic license in Aberdeen story-telling, a 
 volume might be tilled with anecdotes of this amiable 
 and excellent man, all teiuling to prove how wide 
 
ABSTRACTION. 293 
 
 the distinction is between first-rate thought and 
 that merely animal use of the organs of sense which 
 prevents ungifted mortals from walking into wells. 
 The fish market at Aberdeen, if still where it used 
 to be, is near the Dee, and has a stream passing 
 through it that falls into that river. The fishwomen 
 expose their wares in large baskets. The Doctor 
 one day marched into that place, where his attention 
 was attracted by a curiously figured stone in a stack 
 of chimneys. He advanced towards it, till he was 
 interrupted by one of the benches, from which, 
 however, he tumbled one of the baskets into the 
 stream, which was bearing the fish to their native 
 element. The visage of the lady was instantly 
 in lightning, and her voice in thunder; but the 
 object of her wrath was deaf to the loudest sounds, 
 and blind to the most alarming colours. She 
 stamped, gesticulated, scolded, brought a crowd 
 that filled the place ; but the philosopher turned not 
 from his eager gaze and his inward meditations on 
 the stone. While the woman's breath held good, 
 she did not seem to heed, but when that began 
 to fail, and the violence of the act moved not one 
 muscle of the object, her rage felt no bounds : she 
 seized him by the breast, and yelling, in an eflFort 
 of despair, ' Spagh ta ma, or I'll burst,' sank down 
 
294 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 among the remnant of her fish in a state of complete 
 exhaustion; andbeforeshehadrecovered the Doctor's 
 reverie was over, and he had taken his departure."* 
 Many curious anecdotes of a similar kind are 
 related of the Rev. Dr. George Harvest, one of the 
 ministers of Thames Ditton. So confused, on some 
 occasions, were the ideas of this singular man, that 
 he has been known to write a letter to one person, 
 address it to a second, and send it to a third. He 
 was once on the eve of being married to tlie bishop's 
 daughter, when, liaving gone a gudgeon-fishing, he 
 forgot the circumstance, and overstaid the canonical 
 hour, which so offended the lady, that she indig- 
 nantly broke off the match. If a beggar happened 
 to take off his liat to him on the streets, in hopes of 
 receiving ahns, he would make him a bow, tell him 
 he was his most humble servant, and walk on. He 
 has been known on Sunday to forget the days on 
 which he was to officiate, and would walk into 
 cliurch with his gun under his arm, to ascertain 
 what tlie people wanted there. Once, when he was 
 playing at backgammon, ho poured out a glass of 
 wine, and it bring his turn to throw, having the box 
 in one hand and the glass in the other, and being 
 extremely dry, and unwilling to lose any time, he 
 
 • " New Monthly Magn/ine," vol. xxxviii. p. 510. 
 
ABSTRACTION. 295 
 
 swallowed down both the dice, and discharged the 
 wine upon the dice- board. "Another time," says 
 the amusing narrative which has been published of 
 his peculiarities, " in one of his absent fits, he mis- 
 took his friend's house, and went into another, the 
 door of which happened to stand open ; and no ser- 
 vant being in the way, he rambled all over the 
 house, till, coming into a middle room, where there 
 was an old lady ill in bed of a quincy, he stumbled 
 over the night-stool, threw a clothes-horse down, 
 and might not have ended there, had not the 
 affrighted patient made a noise at his intrusion, 
 which brought up the servants, who, finding Dr. 
 Harvest in the room, instead of the apothecary that 
 was momentarily expected, quieted the lady's fears, 
 who by this time was taken with such an immode- 
 rate fit of laughter at his confusion, that it broke 
 the quincy in her throat, and she lived many years 
 afterwards to thank Dr. Harvest for his unlucky 
 mistake." " His notorious heedlessness was so 
 apparent, that no one would lend him a horse, as 
 he frequently lost his beast from under him, or, at 
 least, from out of his hands, it being his frequent 
 practice to dismount and lead the horse, putting 
 the bridle under his arm, which the horse sometimes 
 shook off, or the intervention of a post occasioned 
 
296 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 it to fall ; sometimes it was taken off by the boys? 
 when the parson was seen drawing his bridle after 
 him ; and if any one asked him after the animal, he 
 could not give the least account of it, or how he had 
 lost it." In short, the blunders which he committed 
 were endless, and would be considered incredible, 
 were they not authenticated by incontestable evi- 
 dence. Yet, notwithstanding all this. Harvest was a 
 man of uncommon abilities, and an excellent scholar. 
 Bacon, the celebrated sculptor, exhibited, on one 
 occasion, a laughable instance of absence of mind. 
 ♦' Bacon was remarkably neat in his dress, and, 
 according to the costume of the old school, wore, in 
 fine weather, a powdered wig, ruffles, silver buckles, 
 with silk stockings, &c., and walked with his gold- 
 headed cane. Thus attired, he one day called at 
 St. Paul's, shortly after having erected the statue 
 of the benevolent Howard, and biture the boarding 
 which enclosed the statin* had been removed. One 
 of his sons was eniploved, at this time, in finishing 
 the statue. After remaining a short time, he com- 
 plained of feeling somewhat cold, on which the son 
 proposed, as no one could overlook them, that he 
 should put on, as a kind of temporary spencer, an old, 
 torn, green shag waistcoat, with a rod stuff hack, 
 which had been left there by one of the workmen. 
 
ABSTRACTION. 297 
 
 He said it was a ' good thought,' and accordingly 
 buttoned the waistcoat over his handsome new 
 coat. Shortly afterwards, he was missing, but 
 returned in about an hour, stating that he had been 
 to call on a gentleman in Doctor's Commons, and 
 had sat chatting with his wife and daughters, whom 
 he had never seen before ; that he found them to 
 be exceedingly pleasant women, though perhaps a 
 little disposed to laugh and titter about he knew 
 not what. ^ Sir,' said the son, ' I am afraid I can 
 explain their mysterious behaviour ; surely you 
 have not kept on that waistcoat all the time?' 'But, 
 as sure as I am a living man, I have,' said he 
 laughing heartily, ' and I can now account not only 
 for the strange behaviour of the ladies, but for all 
 the jokes that have been cracked about me as I 
 walked along the street — some crying, let him 
 alone, he does it for a wager, &c., &c.; all which, 
 from being quite unconscious of my appearance, I 
 thought was levelled at some other quiz that might 
 be following near me ; and I now recollect that, 
 whenever I looked round for the object of their 
 pleasantry, the people laughed, and the more so, as, 
 by the merry force of sympathy, I laughed also, al- 
 though I could not comprehend what it all meant.' " 
 I shall conclude by mentioning an anecdote of 
 o 2 
 
298 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 Mr. Warton, the accomplished Professor of Poetry 
 in the University of Oxford. " This good divine, 
 having dined with some jolly company at a gentle- 
 man's house in that city, passing through the streets 
 to the church, it being summer-time, his ears were 
 loudly saluted with the cry of ' Live mackerel !' 
 This so much dwelt upon the Doctor's mind, that 
 after a nap while the psalm was performing, as 
 soon as the organ ceased playing, he got up to the 
 pulpit, and, with eyes half open, cried out, ' All 
 alive, alive oh I* thus inadvertently keeping up the 
 reputation of a Latin proverb, wliich is translated 
 in the'following lines: 
 
 ' (irt-at wits to m:i«]npss nearly are nllied, 
 And thin pjirtitions do tlu-ir bounds divide.' 
 
 " The Professor of Poetry perhaps supposed him- 
 self yet with his companions at the convivial table." 
 
 Mental absence is generally incurable. In stout 
 subjects, depletion, purging, and low diet, will some- 
 times be of use. M'hero x\\v aft'ection seems to 
 arise from toqior <»t the nervous system, blistering 
 the head and internal stimuli aft'ord the most pro- 
 bable means of relief. The person should associate 
 as much as possible with noisy, bustling people, 
 and shun solitude and all such studies as have a 
 tendency to produce abstraction. 
 
SLEEP OF PLANTS. 299 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 SLEEP OF PLANTS. 
 
 During night, plants seem to exist in a state 
 analogous to sleep. At this period they get relaxed, 
 while their leaves droop and become folded together. 
 Such is peculiarly the case with the tamarind tree, 
 and the leguminous plants with pinnated leaves ; 
 but with almost all plants it takes place in a greater 
 or lesser degree, although in some the change is 
 much more striking than in others. The trefoil, 
 the Oxalis and other herbs with ternate leaves, sleep 
 with their leaflets folded together in the erect pos- 
 ture. The cause of the different states in which 
 plants exist during the day and night has never 
 been correctly ascertained — some attributing it to 
 the influence of light, some to the vicissitudes of 
 
300 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 temperature, and others to atmospherical humidity. 
 Probably the whole of these influences are con- 
 cerned. It is very evident that the presence of 
 certain stimuli during the day puts the leaves in a 
 state of activity, and excites their development ; 
 while the want of such stimuli in the night time 
 throws them into repose, relaxes them, and occasions 
 them to be weighed down, as if the sustaining 
 principle which kept them in energy was sus- 
 pended in the torpor of sleep. The principal of 
 these stimuli is unquestionably light ; indeed, Lin- 
 naeus, from the observation of stove plants, seems 
 to have demonstrated that it is the witiidrawing of 
 light, and not of heat, which produces the relaxation 
 or Sleep of Plants, as it is commonly denominated. 
 The effect of light upon the leaves* of tlio Acacia is 
 peculiarly striking. At sunrise they spread them- 
 selves out horizontally ; as the heat increases they 
 become elevated, and at noon shoot vertically up- 
 wards ; but as soon as the sun declines they get 
 languid and droop, and ihiring night are quite pen- 
 dent and relaxed. During day, the leaves of most 
 plants are spread out and displayed, and, at the 
 same time, inclined towards the sun. Those of the 
 Ht'liant/ius anmtuSy the Ilelianthemum anfiuiim, and 
 Cruton linctorium follow the course of the sun in 
 
SLEEP OF PLANTS. 301 
 
 their position ; and most buds and flowers have a 
 tendency to turn their heads in the direction of the 
 great luminary of day. As an instance of this, let 
 us look at the sun-flower, which confronts the 
 source of light with its broad yellow expansion of 
 aspect, and hangs its gorgeous head droopingly so 
 soon as the object of its worship declines. The 
 leaves of a great number of vegetables present 
 changes in their position corresponding to the differ- 
 ent hours of the day. " Who does not know," 
 says Willdenow, " that the species of Lupinus, es- 
 pecially Lupinus luteus turn, in the open air, their 
 leaves and stalks towards the sun, and follow its 
 course in so steady a manner, as to enable us to 
 specify the hour of the day from their direction/' 
 Such phenomena were not unknown to Pliny and 
 Theophrastus. 
 
 The analogy between animal and vegetable life is 
 still farther demonstrated by the well known fact, 
 that while some creatures, such as the cat and owl, 
 sleep during the day, and continue awake at night, 
 certain plants do the same thing. Such is the case 
 with the Tragopogon luteum which becomes closed, 
 or, in other words, goes to sleep at nine in the 
 morning, and opens at night. Every hour of the 
 day, indeed, has some particular plant which then 
 
302 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 shuts itself up: hence the idea of the Flower Dial 
 by means of which the hour of the day can be told 
 with tolerable accuracy. Some plants, which shut 
 themselves up in the day time, flower at niglit. The 
 night-flowering Cereus, a species of Cactus, is a beau- 
 tiful instance of the kind; and there are other plants 
 whicii exhibit the same interesting phenomenon. 
 Nothing, indeed, can be more beautiful than the 
 nocturnal flowering of certain members of the 
 vegetable world. Linnieus used to go out at night 
 with a lantern into his garden to have an oppor- 
 tunity of witnessing this remark«ible peculiarity in 
 the plants by which it is exhibited. 
 
 The analogy botweon the two kingdoms is ren- 
 dered yet more striking, when it is recollected that, 
 (with such exceptions as the above,) plants increase 
 much more rapidly during niglit, whiih is their 
 time of sleep, than in the day-tirue which may 
 be considered the period of their active or waking 
 existence. 
 
 The state in whiili plants exist in the winter 
 season, resembles the li\ l)rrnatit)n of animals: there 
 is the same torpor and aj>parent extinction of vita- 
 lity. Heat and light have the power of both reviving 
 plants and putting an end to hybernation. Be- 
 tween plants and animals, however, there isi this 
 
SLEEP OF PLANTS. 803 
 
 difference : that while 7nost plants become torpid in 
 winter, only a small number of animals get into that 
 state ; but even in such dissimilitude we can trace 
 an analogy ; for as there are animals upon which 
 winter has no torpifying influence, so are there like- 
 wise plants. The Hellehorus hyemalis or christmas 
 rose, flowers at the end of December, and the 
 Galanthus nivalis, or snow-drop, in the months of 
 January or February. 
 
304 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 GENERAL MANAGEMENT OF SLEEP. 
 
 In the foregoing pages, I have detailed at length 
 all the principal phenomena of sleep ; and it now- 
 only remains to state such circumstances as aftect 
 the comfort and healthfulness of the individual 
 while in that condition. The first I shall mention 
 is the nature of the chamber in which we sleep : 
 this should be always large and airy. In modern 
 houses, these requisites are too much overlooked ; 
 and, while the public rooms are of great dimensions, 
 those appropriated for sleeping are little better than 
 closets. This error is exceedingly detrimental to 
 health. The apartments wherein so great a portion 
 of life is passed, should always be roomy, and, if 
 possible, not placed upon tlie ground- floor, because 
 
GENERAL MANAGEMENT OF SLEEP. 305 
 
 such a situation is more apt to be damp and ill 
 ventilated than higher up. 
 
 The next consideration applies to the bed itself, 
 which ought to be large, and not placed close to the 
 wall, but at some distance from it, both to avoid 
 any dampness which may exist in the wall, and 
 admit a freer circulation of air. The curtains should 
 never be drawn closely together, even in the coldest 
 weather ; and when the season is not severe, it is 
 a good plan to remove them altogether. The bed, 
 or mattress, ought to be rather hard. Nothing 
 is more injurious to health than soft beds; they 
 effeminate the individual, render his flesh soft and 
 flabby, and incapacitate him for undergoing any 
 privation. The texture of which the couch is 
 made, is not of much consequence, provided it is 
 not too soft : hence, feather-beds, or mattresses of 
 hair or straw are almost equally good, if suitable 
 in this particular. I may mention, however, that 
 the hair mattress, from being cooler, and less 
 apt to imbibe moisture, is preferable, during the 
 summer season, to a bed of feathers. Those soft 
 yielding feather-beds, in which the body sinks 
 deeply, are highly improper, from the unnatural 
 heat and perspiration which they are sure to induce. 
 Air-beds have been lately recommended, but I can 
 
306 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 assert, from personal experience, that they are the 
 worst that can possibly be employed. They become 
 very soon heated to such an unpleasant degree as to 
 render it impossible to repose upon them with any 
 comfort. For bed-ridden persons, whose skin has 
 become irritated by long lying, the hydrostatic 
 bed, lately brought into use in some of the public 
 hospitals, is tlie best. 
 
 The pillow, as well as the bed, shoald be pretty 
 liard. When very soft, the head soon sinks in 
 it, and becomes unpleasantly Iieated. Tlie objec- 
 tion made to air-beds applies with equal force 
 to air-pillows, which 1 several times altompted to 
 use, but was compelled to abandon, owing to the 
 disagreeabU" luat tliai was generated in a few 
 minutes. 
 
 With regard to the covering, there can be no 
 doubt that it is more wholesome to lie between 
 sheets than blankets. For the same reason, people 
 should avoid sleeping in flannel nightshirts. Such 
 a degree of warmth as is communicated by those 
 means is only justitiablc in infancy and childhood, 
 or when there is actual disease or weakness of con- 
 stitution. Parents often <()inmit a great ern>r in 
 bringing up tlicir young people under so effeminate 
 a system. 
 
GENERAL MANAGEMENT OF SLEEl'. 307 
 
 A common custom prevails, of warming the bed 
 before going to sleep. This enervating practice 
 should be abandoned except with delicate people, 
 or when the cold is very intense. It is far better 
 to let the bed be chafed by the natural heat of the 
 body, which, even in severe weather, will be suflfi- 
 cient for the purpose, provided the clothing is 
 abundant. A little dancing in the evening is an 
 excellent mode of making the body warm before 
 going to bed, and might be had recourse to with 
 advantage in the winter season. 
 
 We ought never to sleep overloaded with clothes, 
 but have merely what is sufficient to maintain a 
 comfortable warmth. 
 
 When a person is in health, the atmosphere of 
 his apartment should be cool ; on this account, fires 
 are exceedingly hurtful, and should never be had 
 recourse to, except when the individual is delicate, 
 or the weather intolerably severe. When they 
 become requisite, smoke must be carefully guarded 
 against, as fatal accidents have arisen from this cause. 
 
 The window-shutters ought never to be entirely 
 closed, neither ought they to be kept altogether 
 open. In the first case, we are apt to oversleep 
 ourselves, owing to the prevailing darkness with 
 which we are surrounded ; and in the second, the 
 
308 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 light which fills the apartment, especially if it be 
 in the summer season, may disturb our repose, and 
 waken us at an earlier hour than there is any 
 occasion for. Under both circumstances, the eyes 
 are liable to suflPer; the darkness, in the one instance, 
 disposes them to be painfully affected, on exposure 
 to the brilliant light of day, besides directly debili- 
 tating them — for, in remaining too much in the 
 gloom, whether we be asleep or awake, these 
 organs are sure to be more or less weakened. In 
 the other case, the fierce glare of the morning 
 sun acting upon them, perhaps for several hours 
 before we got uj), does equal injury, making them 
 tender and easily affected by the liglit. The 
 extremes of too nnuh and too little light must, 
 therefore, be avoided, and smh a moderate portion 
 admitted into the chamber as not to Iiurt the eyes, 
 or act as too strong a stimulus in breaking our 
 slumbers. 
 
 During the summer heats, the covering requires 
 to be diminished, so as to suit the atmospheric tem- 
 perature ; and a small portion of the window drawn 
 down from the top, to promote a circulation of air ; 
 but this must be done cautiously, and the current 
 prevented from coming directly upon the sleeper, 
 as it niiglit give rise to colds, and other bad conse- 
 
GENERAL MANAGEMENT OF SLEEP. 809 
 
 quences. The late Dr. Gregory was in the habit 
 of sleeping with the window drawn slightly down 
 during the whole year ; and there can be no doubt 
 that a gentle current pervading our sleeping apart- 
 ments, is in the highest degree essential to health. 
 
 Nothing is so injurious as damp beds. It be- 
 comes every person, whether at home or abroad, 
 to look to this matter, and see that the bedding 
 on which he lies is thoroughly dry, and free from 
 even the slightest moisture. By neglecting such 
 a precaution, rheumatism, colds, inflammations, and 
 death itself may ensue. Indeed, these calamities 
 are very frequently traced to sleeping incautiously 
 upon damp beds. For the same reason, the walls 
 and floor should be dry, and wet clothes never hung 
 up in the room. 
 
 We should avoid sleeping in a bed that has been 
 occupied by the sick, till the bedding has been 
 cleansed and thoroughly aired. When a person has 
 died of any infectious disease, not only the clothes 
 in which he lay, but the couch itself ought to be 
 burned. Even the bed-stead should be carefully 
 washed and fumigated. 
 
 Delicate persons who have been accustomed to 
 sleep upon feather-beds must be cautious not to 
 exchange them rashly for any other. 
 
310 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 On going to sleep, all sorts of restraints must be 
 removed from the body ; the collar of the night-shirt 
 should be unbuttoned, and the neckcloth taken off. 
 A\'ith regard to the liead, the more lightly it is 
 covered the better ; on this account, we should wear 
 a thin cotton or silk night-cap ; and this is still better 
 if made of net- work. Some persons wear worsted, or 
 flannel caps, but these are never proper, except in 
 old or rheumatic subjects. The grand rule of liealth 
 is to keep the head cool, and the feet warm ; hence, 
 the night-cap cannot be too thin. In fact, the chief 
 use of this piece of clothing is to preserve the hair, 
 and prevent it from being disordered and matted 
 together. 
 
 Sleeping in stockings is a bad and uncleanly habit. 
 By accustoming ourselves to do without any cover- 
 ing upon the feet, we shall seldom experience cold 
 in these parts, if we have clothing enoui^h to keep 
 the rest of the system comfortable ; and should they 
 still remain cold, this can easily be obviated by 
 wrapping a warm flannel-cloth around them, or by 
 applying to them, for a few minutes, a heated iron, 
 or a bottle of warm water. 
 
 The posture of the body must be attended to. 
 The head should be tolerably elevated, especially in 
 plethoric subjects ; and the position, from the net k 
 
GENERAL MANAGEMENT OF SLEEP. 311 
 
 downwards, as nearly as possible horizontal. The 
 lialf-sitting posture, with the shoulders considerably 
 raised, is injurious, as the thoracic and abdominal 
 viscera are thereby compressed, and respiration, 
 digestion, and circulation materially impeded. Lying 
 upon the back is also improper, in consequence of 
 its tendency to produce night-mare. Most people 
 pass the greater part of the night upon the side, 
 which is certainly the most comfortable position 
 that can be assumed in sleep. According to Dr. 
 A. Hunter, women who love their husbands gene- 
 rally lie upon the right side. This interesting 
 point I have no means of ascertaining, although, 
 doubtless, the ladies are qualified to speak decidedly 
 upon the subject. I have known individuals who 
 could not sleep except upon the back ; but these 
 are rare cases. 
 
 I have mentioned the necessity of a free circulation 
 of air. On this account, it is more wholesome to 
 sleep single than double, for there is then less 
 destruction of oxygen ; and the atmosphere is much 
 purer and cooler. For the same reason, the practice, 
 so common in public schools, of having several 
 beds in one room, and two or three individuals 
 in each bed, must be deleterious. When more 
 than one sleep in a single bed, they should take 
 
312 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 care to place themselves in such a position as not to 
 breathe in each other's faces. Some persons have 
 a dangerous custom of covering their heads with the 
 bed-clothes. The absurdity of this practice needs 
 no comment. 
 
 Before going to bed, the body should be brought 
 into that state which gives us the surest chance of 
 dropping speedily asleep. If too hot, its tempera- 
 ture ought to be reduced by cooling drinks, exposure 
 to the open air, sponging, or even the cold bath ; if 
 too cold, it must be brought into a comfortable state 
 by warmth ; for both cold and heat act as stimuli, 
 and their removal is necessary before slumber can 
 ensue. A full stomach, also, though it sometimes 
 promotes, generally prevents sleep ; consequently, 
 supper ought to be dispensed with, except by those 
 who having been long used to this meal, cannot 
 sleep without it. As a general rule, the person who 
 eats nothing for two or three hours before going to 
 rest, will sleep better than he who does. His sleep 
 will also be more refreshing, and his sensations 
 upon awaking much more gratifying. The Chinese 
 recommend brushing the teeth previous to lying 
 down : this is a good custom. 
 
 Sleeping after dinner is pernicious. On awaking 
 from such indulgence, there is generally some 
 
GENERAL MANAGEMENT OF SLEEP. 313 
 
 degree of febrile excitement, in consequence of 
 the latter stages of digestion being hurried on : it 
 is only useful in old people, and in some cases of 
 disease. 
 
 The weak, and those recovering from protracted 
 illnesses, must be indulged with more sleep than 
 such as are vigorous. Sleep, in them, supplies, in 
 some measure, the place of nourishment, and thus 
 becomes a most powerful auxiliary for restoring 
 them to health. Much repose is likewise necessary 
 to enable the system to recover from the effects of 
 dissipation. 
 
 Too little and too much sleep are equally in- 
 jurious. Excessive wakefulness, according to Hip- 
 pocrates, prevents the aliment from being digested, 
 and generates crude humours. Too much sleep 
 produces lassitude and corpulency, and utterly 
 debases and stupifies the mind. Corpulent people 
 being apt to indulge in excessive sleep, they should 
 break this habit at once, as, in their case, it is 
 peculiarly unwholesome. They ought to sleep little, 
 and that little upon hard beds. 
 
 The practice of sleeping in the open air, cannot 
 be too strongly reprobated. It is at all times dan- 
 gerous, especially when carried into effect under a 
 burning sun, or amid the damps of night. In tropical 
 p 
 
314 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 climates, where this custom is indulged in during 
 the day, it is not unusual for the person to be struck 
 with a coup-de- soldi f or some violent fever ; and, in 
 our own country, nothing is more common than 
 inflammations, rheumatisms, and dangerous colds, 
 originating from sleeping upon the ground, either 
 during the heat of the day, or when the evening 
 has set in with its attendant dews and vapours. 
 
 As respects the repose of children it may be 
 remarked that the custom of rocking them asleep in 
 the cradle, is not to be recommended, sanctioned 
 though it be by the voice of ages. This method 
 of procuring slumber, not only heats the infant 
 unnecessarily, but, in some cases, disordei*s the 
 digestive organs, and, in most, produces a sort of 
 artificial sleep, far less conducive to health, than 
 that brouglit on by more natural means. According 
 to some writers, it has also a tendency to induce 
 water in the head, a circumstance which I think 
 possible, although I never knew a case of that 
 disease which could be traced to such a source. 
 Tiie cradle, then, should be abandoned, so far as the 
 rocking is concerned, and the child simply lulled 
 to repose in the nurse's arms, and then deposited 
 jjuietly in bed. Sleep will often be induced by 
 gently scratching or rubbing the top of the child's 
 
GENERAL MANAGEMENT OF SLEEP. 315 
 
 head. This fact is well known to some nurses, by 
 whom the practice is had recourse to for the purpose 
 of provoking- slumber in restless children. For 
 the first month of their existence, children sleep 
 almost continually, and they should be permitted to 
 do so, for at this early age they cannot slumber too 
 much : calm and long-continued sleep is a favourable 
 symptom, and ought to be cherished rather than 
 prevented, during the whole period of infancy. 
 When, however, a child attains the age of three or 
 four months, we should endeavour to manage so that 
 its periods of wakefulness may occur in the day-time, 
 instead of at night. By proper care, a child may 
 be made to sleep at almost any hour ; and, as this 
 is always an object of importance, it should be 
 sedulously attended to in the rearing of children. 
 Until about the third year, they require a little 
 sleep in the middle of the day, and pass half their 
 time in sleep. Every succeeding year, till they attain 
 the age of seven, the period allotted to repose should 
 be shortened one hour, so that a child of that age may 
 pass nine hours, or thereabouts, out of the twenty- 
 four, in a state of sleep. Children should never be 
 awakened suddenly, or with a noise, in consequence 
 of the terror and starting which such a method of 
 arousing them produces : neither should they be 
 
316 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 brought all at once from a dark'rooni into a strong 
 glare of light, lest their eyes be weakened, and 
 permanent injury inflicted upon these organs. 
 
 The position in which children sleep requires to 
 be carefully attended to. Sir Charles Bell mentions 
 that the eneuresis infantum, with which they are so 
 often afi^ected, frequently arises from lying upon 
 the back, and that it will be removed or prevented 
 by accustoming them to lie on the side. It is 
 also of the greatest importance that tliey be kept 
 sufticiently warm. I believe that many infantile 
 diseases arise from the neglect of this precaution, 
 ('hildren have little power of evolving heat; on 
 this account, when delicate, they should never be 
 permitted to sleep alone, but made to lie with 
 the nurse, that they may receive warmth from her 
 body. 
 
 At whatever period we go to sleep, one fact is 
 certain, that we <an never with impimity convert 
 day into nigiit. Even in tlie most scorching seasons 
 of the year, it is better to travel under tlie burning 
 sunshine, tiian irj the cool of the evening, when 
 the (lews are falling and the air is damp. A case 
 in su|)port of this statement, is given by Valan- 
 gin in his work on Diet. Two Colonels in the 
 French array bad a dispute wlietber it wa» most 
 
GENERAL MANAGEMENT OF SLEEP. 317 
 
 safe to march in the heat of the day, or in the 
 evening. To ascertain this point, they got per- 
 mission from the commanding officer to put their 
 respective plans into execution. Accordingly, the 
 one with his division marched during the day, 
 although it was in the heat of summer, and rested 
 all night — the other slept in the day-time, and 
 marched during the evening and part of the night. 
 The result was, that the first performed a journey 
 of six hundred miles, without losing a single man 
 or horse, while the latter lost most of his horses, 
 and several of his men. 
 
 It now becomes a question at what hour we should 
 retire to rest, how long our rest ought to continue, 
 and when it should be broken in the morning. 
 These points I shall briefly discuss, in the order 
 in which they stand. 
 
 It is not very easy to ascertain the most appro- 
 priate hour for going to bed, as this depends very 
 much upon the habits and occupation of the indivi- 
 dual. Labourers and all hard wrought people, who 
 are obliged to get up betimes, require to go to rest 
 early ; and, in their case, nine o'clock may be the 
 best hour. Those who are not obliged to rise early, 
 may delay the period of retiring to rest for an hour 
 or two longer ; and may thus go to bed at ten or 
 
318 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 eleven. These are the usual periods allotted among 
 the middle ranks of life for this purpose ; and it 
 may be laid down as a rule, that to make a custom 
 of remaining up for a later period than eleven, 
 must be prejudicial. Those, therefore, who habi- 
 tually delay going to bed till twelve, or one, or 
 two, are acting in direct opposition to the laws of 
 health, in so far as they are compelled to pass in 
 sleep a portion of the ensuing day, which ought to 
 be appropriated to wakefulness and exertion. Late 
 hours are in every respect hurtful, whether they be 
 employed in study or amusement. A fresh supply 
 of stimulus is thrown upon the mind, which pre- 
 vents it from sinking into slumber at the proper 
 period, and restlessness, dreaming, and disturbed 
 repose inevitably ensue. Among other things, the 
 eyes are injured, those organs suffering much more 
 from the candle-light, to which they are necessarily 
 exposed, than fr(Mn the natural liirlit of day. 
 
 With regard to the necessary quantity of sleep, 
 so much depends upon age, constitution, and em- 
 ployment, that it is impossible to lay down any 
 tixed ruh' whith will apply to all cases. Jeremy 
 Taylor states that three hours only in the twenty- 
 four should be devoted to sleep. Baxter extends the 
 period to four hours, Weslev to six. Lord Coke 
 
GENERAL MANAGEMENT OF SLEEP. 319 
 
 and Sir William Jones to seven, and Sir John 
 Sinclair to eight. With the latter I am disposed 
 to coincide. Taking the average of mankind, we 
 shall come as nearly as possible to the truth when 
 we say that nearly one-third part of life ought to be 
 spent in sleep : in some cases, even more may be 
 necessary, and in few can a much smaller portion be 
 safely dispensed with. When a person is young, 
 strong, and healthy, an hour or two less may be 
 sufficient ; but childhood and extreme old age re- 
 quire a still greater portion. No person who passes 
 only eight hours in bed, can be said to waste his time 
 in sleep. If, however, he exceeds this, and is, at 
 the same time, in possession of vigour and youth, he 
 lays himself open to the charge of slumbering away 
 those hours which should be devoted to some other 
 purpose. According to Georget, women should 
 sleep a coaple of hours longer than men. For the 
 former he allows six or seven hours, for the latter 
 eight or nine. I doubt, however, if the female 
 constitution, generally speaking, requires more 
 sleep than the male ; at least it is certain that 
 women endure protracted wakefulness better than 
 men, but whether this may result from custom is a 
 question worthy of being considered. 
 
 Barry, in his work on Digestion, has made 
 
320 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 an ingenious, but somewhat whimsical, calculation 
 on the tendency of sleep to prolong life. He 
 asserts, that the duration of human life may be 
 ascertained by the number of pulsations which the 
 individual is able to perform. Thus, if a man's life 
 extends to 70 years, and his heart throbs 60 times 
 each minute, the whole number of its pulsations will 
 amount to 2,207,520,000 ; but if, by intemperance, 
 or any other cause, he raises the pulse to 75 in the 
 minute, the same number of pulsations would be 
 completed in 56 years, and the duration of life 
 abbreviated 14 years. Arguing from these data, he 
 alleges, that sleep has a tendency to prolong life, 
 as, during its continuance, the pulsations are less 
 numerous than in the waking state. There is a 
 sort of theoretical truth in this statement, but it 
 is liable to be modified by so many circumstances, 
 that its application can never become general. 
 If this were not the case, it would be natural to 
 infer that the length of a man's life would corre- 
 spond with that of his slumbers ; whereas it is well 
 known, that too much sleep debilitates the frame, 
 and lays the foundation of various diseases, which 
 tend to shorten rather than extend the duration of 
 life. 
 Those who indulge most in sleep, generally require 
 
GENERAL MANAGEMENT OF SLEEP. 321 
 
 the least of it. Such are the wealthy and luxu- 
 rious, who pass nearly the half of their existence 
 in slumber, while the hard-working peasant and 
 mechanic, who would seem, at first sight, to re- 
 quire more than any other class of society, are 
 contented with seven or eight hours of repose — 
 a period brief in proportion to that expended by 
 them in toil, yet sufficiently long for the wants of 
 nature, as is proved by the strength and health, 
 which they almost uniformly enjoy. 
 
 For reasons already stated, more sleep is re- 
 quisite in winter than in summer. Were there even 
 no constitutional causes for this diflFerence, we should 
 be disposed to sleep longer in the one than in the 
 other, as some of the circumstances which induce us 
 to sit up late and rise early in summer, are wanting 
 during winter ; and we consequently feel disposed 
 to lie longer in bed during the latter season of the 
 year. 
 
 The hour of getting up in the morning is not of 
 less importance than that at which we ought to lie 
 down at night. There can be no doubt that one of 
 the most admirable conducives to health is early 
 rising. " Let us," says Solomon, " go forth into 
 the fields; let us lodge in the villages ; let us get vp 
 early to the vineyards ; let us see if the vine flourish 
 p2 
 
322 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 — if the tender grape appear — if the pomegranates 
 bud forth." 
 
 Almost all men who have distinguislied them- 
 selves in science, literature, and the arts, have been 
 early risers. The industrious, tlie active-minded, 
 the enthusiast in the pursuit of knowledge or gain, 
 are up betimes at their respective occupations ; 
 while the sluggard wastes the most beautiful period 
 of life in pernicious slumber. Homer, Virgil, and 
 Horace are all represented as early risers : the 
 same was the case with Paley, Franklin, Priestley, 
 Parkhurst, and Butl'on, the last of wham ordfred 
 his valet-dc'chambrc to awaken him every morning, 
 and compel him to get up by force if he evinced 
 any reluctance : for this service the valet was re- 
 warded with a crown each day. whit h recompense 
 he forfeited if he did not oblige liis master to get 
 out of bed before the clock struck six. Bishops 
 Jewel and Burnet rose regularly every moniing at 
 four o'clock. Sir Thomas More did the same tiling ; 
 and so convinced was he of the beneficial eflfects of 
 getting up betimes, that, in his " Utopia," he re- 
 presented the inhabitants attending lectures before 
 sunrise. Napoleon was an early riser ; so were 
 Frederick the Great and Charles XII.; so is the 
 Duke of Wellington ; and so. in truth, is almost 
 
GENERAL MANAGEMENT OF SLEEP. 323 
 
 every one distinguished for energy and indef'atiga- 
 bility of mind. 
 
 Every circumstance contributes to render early 
 rising advisable to those who are in the enjoyment 
 of health. There is no time equal in beauty and 
 freshness to the morning, when nature has just 
 parted with the gloomy mantle which night had 
 flung over her, and stands before us like a young 
 bride, from whose aspect the veil which covered 
 her loveliness, has been withdrawn. The whole 
 material world has a vivifying appearance. The 
 husbandman is up at his labour, the forest leaves 
 sparkle with drops of crystal dew, the flowers raise 
 their rejoicing heads towards the sun, the birds 
 pour forth their anthems of gladness ; and the wide 
 face of creation itself seems as if awakened and 
 refreshed from a mighty slumber. All these things, 
 however, are hid from the eyes of the sluggard ; 
 nature, in her most glorious aspect, is, to him, a 
 sealed book ; and while every scene around him is 
 full of beauty, interest, and animation, he alone is 
 passionless and uninspired. Behold him stretched 
 upon his couch of rest ! In vain does the clock 
 proclaim that the reign of day has commenced ! 
 In vain does the morning light stream fiercely in 
 by the chinks of his window, as if to startle him 
 
3*24* PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 from his repose I He hears not — he sees not, for 
 blindness and deafness rule over him with despotic 
 sway, and lay a deadening spell upon his faculties. 
 And when he does at length awake — far on in the 
 day — from the torpor of this benumbing sleep, he 
 is not refreshed. He does not start at once into 
 new life — an altered man, with joy in his mind, 
 and vigour in his frame. On the contrary, he is 
 dull, languid, and stupid, as if half recovered from 
 a paroxysm of drunkenness. He yawns, stretches 
 himself, and stalks into the breakfast parlour, to 
 partake in solitude, and without appetite, of his 
 unrefreshing meal — while his eyes are red and 
 gummy, his beard uusliorn, his face unwashed, and 
 his clothes disorderly, and ill [)iit on. Uncleanli- 
 ness and sluggishness generally go hand in hand; 
 for the obtuseness of mind wiruh disposes a man 
 to waste the most precious hours of existence in 
 debasing sleep, will naturally make him neglect his 
 person. 
 
 The character of the early riser is the very 
 reverse of the sloven's. His countenance is ruddy, 
 his eye joyous and serene, and his frame full of 
 vigour and activity. His mind, also, is clear and 
 unclouded, and free from tliat oppressive languor 
 which weighs like a night-mare upon the spirit of 
 
GENERAL MANAGEMENT OF SLEEP. .'325 
 
 the sluggard. The man who rises betimes, is in the 
 fair way of laying in both health and wealth ; while 
 he who dozes away his existence in unnecessary 
 sleep, will acquire neither. On the contrary, he 
 runs every chance of losing whatever portion of 
 them he may yet be in possession of, and of sinking 
 fast in the grade of society — a bankrupt both in 
 person and in purse.* 
 
 The most striking instances of the good effects of 
 early rising, are to be found in our peasantry and 
 farmers, whose hale complexions, good appetites, 
 and vigorous persons, are evidences of the benefit 
 derived from this custom, conjoined with labour ; 
 
 • In the will of the late Mr. James Seargeant of the borough 
 of Leicester, is the following clause relative to early rising : — 
 " As my nephews are fond of indulging in bed in a morning, 
 and as 1 wish them to improve their time while they are young, 
 I direct that they shall prove to the satisfaction of my execu- 
 tors, that they have got out of bed in the morning, and either 
 employed themselves in business, or taken exercise in the open 
 air, from 5 o'clock every morning, from the 5th of April to the 
 10th of October, being three hours each day, and from 7 o'clock 
 in the morning from the 10th of October, to the 5th of April, 
 being two hours every morning for two whole years ; this to 
 be done for some two years during the first seven years, to the 
 satisfaction of my executors, who may excuse them in case of 
 illness, but the task must be made up when they are well, and 
 if they will not do this, they shall not receive any share of my 
 property." 
 
326 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 while the wan, and unhealthy countenances and en- 
 feebled frames of those who keep late hours, lie 
 long in bed, and pass the night in dissipation, study, 
 or pleasure, are equally conclusive proofs of the 
 pernicious consequences resulting from an opposite 
 practice. 
 
 Early rising, therefore, is highly beneficial ; but 
 care should be taken not to carry it to excess. 
 It can never be liealthful to rise till the sun has 
 been for some time above the horizon : for, until 
 this is the case, there is a dampness in the air 
 which must prove injurious to the constitution, 
 especially when it is not naturally very strong. 
 Owing to this, early rising is injurious to most 
 delicate people ; and, in all cases, the heat of the 
 sun should be allowed to have acquired some 
 strength before we think of getting out of doors. 
 No healthy man in the summer, should lie longer 
 in bed than six o'clock. If he does so he loses the 
 most valuable part of the day, and injures his own 
 constitution. The necessary quantity of sleep ought, 
 however, to be taken ; if he cannot get to bed early 
 ♦Miough to enjoy sufficient repose consistent witii 
 arisini:^ at that hour, it is better to remain longer 
 in bed to make up the difference. Persons subject 
 to gout, should always g(t to sleep early, and rise 
 
GENERAL MANAGEMENT OF SLEEP. 327 
 
 early. The former mitigates the violence of the 
 evening paroxysm, which is always increased by 
 wakefulness ; and the latter lessens the tendency to 
 plethora, which is favoured by long protracted sleep. 
 
 It is common in some of the foreign universities 
 to go to bed at eight, and rise at three or four in 
 the morning ; and this plan is recommended by 
 Willich in his '' Lectures on Diet and Regimen." 
 Sir John Sinclair, in allusion to it, judiciously ob- 
 serves, " I have no doubt of the superior healthi- 
 ness, in the winter time, of rising by day-light, and 
 using candle-light at the close of the day, than 
 rising by candle-light, and using it some hours 
 before day-light approaches. It remains to be 
 ascertained by which system the eyes are least 
 likely to be affected." 
 
 Dr. Franklin, in one of his ingenious Essays, 
 has some fine observations on early rising ; and 
 makes an amusing calculation of the saving that 
 might be made in the city of Paris alone, by using 
 the sunshine instead of candles. This saving he 
 estimates at 96,000,000 of livres, or £4,000,000 
 sterling. This is mentioned in a satirical vein, but 
 probably there is a great deal of truth in the state- 
 ment. Indeed, if people were to go sooner to bed, 
 and get up earlier, it is inconceivable what sums 
 
328 PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. 
 
 might be saved ; but, according to the absurd custom 
 of polished society, day is, in a great measure 
 converted into night, and the order of things 
 reversed in a manner at once capricious and hurtful. 
 To conclude. The same lau' whicli regulates 
 our desire for food, also governs sleep. As we 
 indulge in sleep to moderation or excess, it becomes 
 a blessing or a curse — in the one case recruiting the 
 energies of nature, and diffusing vigour alike over 
 the raind and frame : in the other, debasing the 
 character of man, stupifying his intellect, enfeebling 
 his body, and rendering him useless alike to others 
 and to himself. The glutton, the «lrunkard, and 
 the sloven bear the strictest athnity to each other, 
 both in the violation of nature's laws, and in the 
 consequences thence entailed upon themselves. 
 What in moderation is harmless or beneficial, in 
 excess is a curse ; and sleep, carried to the latter 
 extreme, may be pronounced an act of intemperance 
 almost as much as excessive eating or drinking. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Abercrombie, Dr., case related by, of the verification 
 of a dream, 
 
 — — — — , his distinction between dreaming 
 
 and insanity, 
 
 Absorption increased by sleep, 
 
 Abstraction, .... 
 
 Animal life, .... 
 
 magnetism, 
 
 Aristotle, his account of the sleep of fishes, 
 Ai'mitage, Elizabeth, a great sleeper. 
 Awaking, phenomena of, . 
 
 Bacon the sculptor, anecdote of, 
 
 Barclay, Captain, anecdote of, . 
 
 Barry, curious calculation by, 
 
 Baxter, his theory of dreaming, 
 
 Bayle, his account of spectral illusions, 
 
 Beattie, Dr., facts concerning, . 
 
 Bed, directions with regard to the, 
 
 Bell, Sir Charles, on the eneuresis infantum, 
 
 Bichat, his division of life, 
 
 Biot, his account of Sir Isaac Newton, 
 
 Birds, sleep of, 
 
 Blacklock, Dr., the peculiarity of his dreams, 
 
 , curious anecdote of, . 
 
 Blake the painter, extraordinary case of. 
 
 Blindness, dreams modified by, 
 
 Blood, arterial, acquires the venous character when at 
 
 rest, . ....... 
 
 J 24 
 
 44 
 
 21 
 
 286 
 
 6 
 
 176 
 
 9 
 
 213 
 
 37 
 
 296 
 
 32 
 320 
 
 43 
 
 255 
 
 54-58 
 
 305 
 
 316 
 
 6 
 
 289 
 
 9 
 
 90 
 171 
 258 
 
 90 
 
 208 
 
330 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Blumenbach, case related by, .... 
 
 Boerhaave, anecdote of, 
 
 , case spoken of by, .... 
 
 Bostock, Dr., his case 
 
 Bourdeaux, Archbishop of, case of somnambulism 
 
 related by, ....... 
 
 Brain, effects of its size in reference to sleep, 
 
 , determination of blood to the, induces sleep, 
 
 , its texture in infancy, .... 
 
 Browne, Mr. VV. A. F., cases by, ... 
 Buffon denies any affinity between hybernation an( 
 
 sleep, 
 
 Buzareingucs, INI. G iron de, experiments by, to produce 
 
 dreams at will, ...... 
 
 Byron, Lord, scene described by, in his " Parasina, 
 
 Cabanis, fact concerning, 
 
 Caesar, Julius, the apparition of, which appeared t 
 
 Brutus, accounted for, .... 
 
 Calitcula tornieiitf<l by frightful dreams. 
 Cardan, fact concerning, ..... 
 Carmichaol, !\Ir., supposes a-ssimilation in the brain to 
 
 be the proximate cause of sleep, . 
 liis explanation of tbt- process v 
 
 "ill-'";,' • • 
 
 Castel, Mr., observation by, . . • . 
 
 Catab'psy 
 
 Chapelaiti, M., tiporation perfornuul by, upon a lad 
 
 under the magnetic influence. 
 Children, dreams of, ...... 
 
 , sleep of, 
 
 , directions regarding the sU'op of 
 
 Circulation, its rapidity diminished by sleep 
 Cold produces sleep. ... 
 , sleep from, 
 
INDEX. 
 
 331 
 
 account by, of the origin of Kubl 
 
 of, in 
 
 Coleridge, Mr. 
 
 Khan, 
 
 Colquhoun, Mr., the Parisian report translated by, 
 Combe, Mr., cases mentioned by, 
 
 , his remarks on Concentrutiveness, 
 
 Combe, Dr., case of spectral illusion by, 
 Concentrativeness, effect of a large development 
 
 inducing abstraction, .... 
 Condorcet, fact concerning, 
 Conolly, Dr., case related by, 
 Cook, Captain, case extracted from his " Voyages 
 Cullen, his remark on the effect of monotony. 
 Culpepper, Lord, trial of his brother, 
 Cumin, Dr., case related by, 
 Cm-rie, Dr., his remarks on thevisions of hypochondria, 
 
 6.5 
 178 
 
 84-128 
 288 
 268 
 
 288 
 68 
 
 253 
 
 221 
 15 
 
 169 
 84 
 
 Darwin, Dr., fact noticed by, 80 
 
 , method recommended by, to prevent 
 
 attacks of night-mare, 155 
 
 , case of sleep-talking described by, . 188 
 
 Day-mare, ........ 158 
 
 Dead, visions of the, 86 
 
 Deafness, dreams modified by, . . . • . 90 
 
 Democritus, his theory of dreaming, ... 43 
 
 Dogs, dreams of, 45 
 
 Dr. Donne, his case of spectral illusion, . . . 122 
 
 Dreaming, 41 
 
 Dreams, causes of, . 52 
 
 , management of, 108 
 
 , prophetic power of, . . . • . 112 
 
 Drowning, . • 62 
 
 Drowsiness, 206 
 
 Drunkenness, analog^' between it and dreaming, . 83-99 
 
 , nature of the dreams induced by, . 96 
 
 Dubrie, I\lr., anecdote of, 173 
 
 Dull sermon, the effect of a, in inducing sleep, . 12 
 
332 INDEX. 
 
 PACK 
 
 Dumbness, case of, cured by a frightful dream, . 74 
 Dyce, Dr., remai-kable case of somnambulism, re- 
 lated by, 185 
 
 Early rising, benefits of, ..... . 32*2 
 
 Edwards, Dr., fact by, concerning hybernatinganimals, 2 IS 
 
 Ellicot, Major, remarkable case related by, . . 187 
 
 Elliotson, Dr., his remark with regard to dreams, . 76 
 
 Fairies, belief in, accounted for, .... 261 
 
 Familiar spirits, ....... 247 
 
 Fanshawe, Lady, case from her " Memoirs," 120 
 
 Fish, sleep of, ....... . M 
 
 Forestus, case of day-mare related by, . . 158 
 
 Fcetus, state of llie, ....... 35 
 
 Franklin, Dr., his ca.se of somnambulism, 169 
 
 , amusing calculation by, . . 327 
 
 , Captain, fact stated by, concerning the 
 
 freezing of fisli, ....... 2IS 
 
 Gall, Dr. cases of somnambulism related by, . 171-174 
 
 , on spectral illusions, 246 
 
 George III., method employed to procure him sleep, 20 
 
 Georget on the sleep of women, .... 318 
 
 Gooch, curious case related by, .... 34 
 
 Good, Dr., his remarks on sleep-walking, ltt2 
 
 , his description of waking dreams, . . 'JiiS 
 
 Goose, the, a very light sleeper, .... 9 
 
 Gordon, John, Esq., cose mentioned by, ... 33 
 
 Gregory, Dr., case of, 2.'>2 
 
 , facts related by, ..... .">4 
 
 Grey, Farl, haunted by a bhwdy heail, 246 
 
 Grithths, Mrs., verifuation of her dreams, I IH 
 
 Grokat/hi, George, case of .... 2:i5 
 
 Guilty, dreams of the, 106 
 
INDEX. 333 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Habit, sleep modified by, ...... so 
 
 Hamilton, Dr. Robert, anecdote of, . . . . 292 
 
 Hare sleeps with its eyes open, 291 
 
 Harvest, Dr. George, anecdotes of, . . . . 294 
 Haycock, Dr., delivered sermons and prayers in his 
 
 sleep, ......... 184 
 
 Hazlitt, his opinion, that in sleep we are always 
 
 thinking, disputed, 43 
 
 Heat produces sleep, . 12 
 
 Hildesheim, his remark concerning night-mare, . 149 
 Hoffbauer, case related by him of murder occasioned 
 
 by a frightful dream, 75 
 
 Hogarth, anecdote of, 291 
 
 Hood, Mr., incongruous dream related by, . . 94 
 
 Hoole, Mr., his account of Tasso's familiar spirit, . 247 
 
 Horror, a frequent accompaniment of dreams, . . 77 
 
 Horses dream, 44 
 
 Hunter, Dr. A., his remark on the position of women, 31 1 
 
 Hybernation, 217 
 
 Hypochondriac, visions of the, .... * 57 
 
 Illusion of dreams, . 90 
 
 Insanity, curious case of, occasioned by a frightful 
 
 dream, ....•..• 74 
 
 , analogy between it and dreaming, . . 44-99 
 
 Irish porter, case of, 84 
 
 Kubla Khan composed by Mr. Coleridge in a dream, 65 
 
 Lady of Nismes, extraordinary case of, 
 Lavalette, extraordinary dream of, 
 Levison, Mr., case of spectral illusion by. 
 Life, definition of, . . • • 
 Love as experienced in dreams, 
 Lucretius, his theory of dreaming 
 
 214 
 
 62 
 
 267 
 
 5 
 
 87 
 43 
 
334 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Lyall, Mary, a great sleeper, 
 Lyttleton, Lord, case of. 
 
 JVI , Miss, verification of her dream, 
 
 Mackay, James, anecdote of, 
 
 Martinet, cases of somnambulism described by, 
 
 Meal, a heavy, induces sleep, 
 
 Moisture, torpor produced by want of, 
 
 Moivre, De, a great sleeper, 
 
 Murder, case of, occasioned by a frightful dream 
 
 Narcotics, the manner in which they induce sleep, 
 
 , nature of the visions induced by, 
 
 Nervous energy, how its distribution occasions sleep, 
 
 Newton, Sir Isaac, anecdotes of, 
 
 Nicolai, case of, . 
 
 Night, the time for sleep, .... 
 
 Night- Mare, 
 
 Confessions, 
 
 Old age, sleep greatly modified in, 
 ♦' Opium Eater," extracts from his 
 Organic life, .... 
 Orvin, Elizabeth, a great sleeper, 
 
 Parr, Dr., remarks on dreaming by. 
 
 Parrot, the, said to dream, 
 
 Past and forgotten events renewed by dreams, 
 
 Perkins, Elizabeth, a great sleeper, 
 
 Perspiration increased l)y sleep, 
 
 PicbegTu, (u'neral, curious fact concerning, 
 
 Pierquin, Dr., curious case related by, 
 
 Pillow, directions with regard to the, 
 
 Plants, sleep of, 
 
 Polydori, Dr., subject to night. mare, 
 Positions assumed in sleep, 
 
 33-212 
 
 22 
 
 :U 
 
 42 
 
 :30t; 
 
 29.S 
 
 157 
 
 18-25-310 
 
INDEX. 
 
 335 
 
 Pi'itchard, Dr. case of somnambulism spoken of by; 
 Profoundness of sleep, varieties of, . . . 
 
 Protracted sleep, 
 
 Pulse, state of the, in sleep, .... 
 
 PAGE 
 
 171 
 27 
 
 210 
 19 
 
 Q,uin, the celebrated player, fact concerning, 
 
 33 
 
 Reid, Dr. , curious facts concerning, . . . . 
 
 Reverie, 
 
 R d of Bowland, case of, 
 
 Rush, Dr., his distinction between dreaming and deli- 
 rium, . . 
 
 Russel, Lady, narrowly escaped premature interment, 
 
 33-46 
 278 
 130 
 
 228 
 
 Sanctorius, his remarks on perspiration, 
 
 Schidmaizig, Bernard, case of, 
 
 Scott, Sir Walter, remarks by, on the case of Lord 
 
 Lyttleton, 
 , curious case of a verified dream re 
 
 lated by him in the Antiquary 
 Scott executed for murder, case of, 
 Seargeant, James, Mr., his will. 
 Second Sight accounted for, 
 Secretions, effect of sleep on the, 
 Sensorial power, the, 
 Shorigny, case of, 
 
 Simpson, Mr., case of spectral illusion related by, 
 Sinclair, Sir John, his remarks on early rising. 
 Sleep of plants, . 
 Sleep, general management of. 
 Sleep-walking, 
 Sleep in general, 
 Sleep-talking, 
 Sleeplessness, 
 Sleep from cold. 
 
 22 
 76 
 
 127 
 
 130 
 128 
 325 
 260 
 21 
 17 
 229 
 263 
 327 
 299 
 304 
 171 
 8- 
 181 
 195 
 217 
 
336 INDEX. 
 
 Sluggard, picture of the, 3*24 
 
 Snoring, 20 
 
 Somnambulism, analogy between it and madness, . 165 
 
 Spalding, Mr., his case, 281 
 
 Spectral illusions, ....... 243 
 
 Squire, Archdeacon, case related by, .... 74 
 
 Stewart, Mr., the pedestrian, statement by, . . 109 
 
 Stilling, Jung, Dr., saw visions, .... 246 
 
 Stupor, difference between it and sleep, ... 5 
 
 Suetonius, his picture of the tyrant Caligula, . . 106 
 
 Surprise, absence of, in dreams, .... 85 
 
 Tasso, his familiar spirit, ...... 247 
 
 Time, perception of, curiously affected by dreaming, . 60 
 
 Townsend, Colonel, extraordinary case of, . . 23 1 
 
 Trance, • . . . 226 
 
 \'ision, effect of sleep on the organs of, ... 23 
 
 Voluntary waking dreams, ..... 208 
 
 Waller, Mr., cases of dreaming illusion related by, 92-144 
 
 Warton, Mr., anecdote of, 298 
 
 Wasse, Mr., on the effect of rest upon the stature, . 39 
 
 Welsh girl, curious case ot a, . . . . 81) 
 Wonder, effect of a large development of, in inducing 
 
 apparitions, ....... 246 
 
 XenophoD, his recommendation to the Greek troops, 22.^ 
 
 Yawning, ......... 18 
 
 Young lady, dream related by a, .... 101 
 
 THE END. 
 
 GUjgow ;— Fxlwaril KhuU, Pnntcr to the UniTtnity.