Chapter XVII · (continued 2)

An exhaustive paper on this subject, written by Richard Hodgson in the proceedings of the Society for Psychical Research, states that Mr. Bourne had in early life shown a tendency to abnormal psychic conditions; but he had never before engaged in trade, and nothing could be remembered which would explain why he had assumed the name A. J. Brown, under which he did business. He had, however, been hypnotized when young and made to assume various characters on the stage, and it is possible that the name A. J. Brown was then suggested to him, the name resting in his memory, to be revived and resumed when he again went into a hypnotic trance.

Alfred Binet describes a case somewhat similar to that of Mary Reynolds: "Felida, a seamstress, from 1858 up to the present time (she is still living) has been under the care of a physician named Azam in Bordeaux. Her normal, or at least her usual, disposition when he first met her was one of melancholy and disinclination to talk, conjoined with eagerness for work. Nevertheless her actions and her answers to all questions were found to be perfectly rational. Almost every day she passed into a second state. Suddenly and without the slightest premonition save a violent pain in the temples she would fall into a profound slumber-like languor, from which she would awake in a few moments a totally different being. She was now as gay and cheery as she had formerly been morose. Her imagination was over-excited. Instead of being indifferent to everything, she had become alive to excess. In this state she remembered everything that had happened in the other similar states that had preceded it, and also during her normal life. But when at the end of an hour or two the languor reappeared, and she returned to her normal melancholy state, she could not recall anything that had happened in her second, or joyous, stage. One day, just after passing into the second stage, she attended the funeral of an acquaintance. Returning in a cab she felt the period coming on which she calls her crisis (normal state). She dozed several seconds, without attracting the attention of the ladies who were in the cab, and awoke in the other state, absolutely at a loss to know why she was in a mourning carriage with people who, according to custom, were praising the qualities of a deceased person whose name she did not even know. Accustomed to such positions, she waited; by adroit questions she managed to understand the situation, and no one suspected what had happened. Once when in her abnormal condition she discovered that her husband had a mistress, and was so overcome that she sought to commit suicide. Yet in her normal mind she meets the woman with perfect equilibrium and forgetfulness of any cause for quarrel. It is only in her abnormal state that the jealousy recurs. As the years went on the second state became her usual condition. That which was at first accidental and abnormal now constitutes the regular center of her psychic life. It is rather satisfactory to chronicle that as between the two egos which alternately possess her, the more cheerful has finally reached the ascendant."

Jackson reports the history of the case of a young dry-goods clerk who was seized with convulsions of a violent nature during which he became unconscious. In the course of twenty-four hours his convulsions abated, and about the third day he imagined himself in New York paying court to a lady, and having a rival for her favors; an imaginary quarrel and duel ensued. For a half-hour on each of three days he would start exactly where he had left off on the previous day. His eyes were open and to all appearances he was awake during this peculiar delirium. When asked what he had been doing he would assert that he had been asleep. His language assumed a refinement above his ordinary discourse. In proportion as his nervous system became composed, and his strength improved, this unnatural manifestation of consciousness disappeared, and he ultimately regained his health.

A further example of this psychologic phenomenon was furnished quite meetly at a meeting of the Clinical Society of London, where a well known physician exhibited a girl of twelve, belonging to a family of good standing, who displayed in the most complete and indubitable form this condition of dual existence. A description of the case is as follows:—

"Last year, after a severe illness which was diagnosed to be meningitis, she became subject to temporary attacks of unconsciousness, on awakening from which she appeared in an entirely different character. In her normal condition she could read and write and speak fluently, and with comparative correctness. In the altered mental condition following the attack she loses all memory for ordinary events, though she can recall things that have taken place during previous attacks. So complete is this alteration of memory, that at first she was unable to remember her own name or to identify herself or her parents. By patient training in the abnormal condition she has been enabled to give things their names, though she still preserves a baby-fashion of pronouncing. She sometimes remains in the abnormal condition for days together and the change to her real self takes place suddenly, without exciting surprise or dismay, and she forthwith resumes possession of her memory for events of her ordinary life. During the last month or two she appears to have entered on a new phase, for after a mental blank of a fortnight's duration she awakened completely oblivious of all that had happened since June, 1895, and she alludes to events that took place just anterior to that date as though they were of recent occurrence; in fact she is living mentally in July, 1895. These cases, though rare, are of course not infrequently met with, and they have been carefully studied, especially in France, where women appear more prone to neurotic manifestations. The hypothesis that finds most favor is that the two halves of the brain do not work in unison; in other words, that there has been some interference with the connections which in the ordinary normal being make of a wonderful composite organ like the brain one organic whole."

Proust tells a story of a Parisian barrister of thirty-three. His father was a heavy drinker, his mother subject to nervous attacks, his younger brother mentally deficient, and the patient himself was very impressionable. It was said that a judge in a court, by fixing his gaze on him, could send him into an abnormal state. On one occasion, while looking into a mirror in a cafe, he suddenly fell into a sleep, and was taken to the Charite where he was awakened. He suffered occasional loss of memory for considerable lengths of time, and underwent a change of personality during these times. Though wide awake in such conditions he could remember nothing of his past life, and when returned to his original state he could remember nothing that occurred during his secondary state, having virtually two distinct memories. On September 23, 1888, he quarreled with his stepfather in Paris and became his second self for three weeks. He found himself in a village 100 miles from Paris, remembering nothing about his journey thereto; but on inquiry he found that he had paid a visit to the priest of the village who thought his conduct odd, and he had previously stayed with an uncle, a bishop, in whose house he had broken furniture, torn up letters, and had even had sentence passed upon him by a police court for misdemeanor. During these three weeks he had spent the equivalent of $100, but he could not recall a single item of expenditure. Davies cites a remarkable case of sudden loss of memory in a man who, while on his way to Australia, was found by the police in an exhausted condition and who was confined in the Kent County Insane Asylum. He suffered absolute loss of all memory with the exception of the names of two men not close acquaintances, both of whom failed to recognize him in his changed condition in confinement. Four months later his memory returned and his identity was established.

In the Revue Philosophique for 1885 there are the details of a case of a young man who seemed able to assume six states of what might be fairly called different personalities. The memories attached to each of these states were very different, though only one was completely exclusive of the others. The handwriting varied from complete competence to complete incompetence. His character varied between childish timidity, courteous reserve, and reckless arrogance; and to four of his conditions there was a form of hysteric paralysis attached. Mere suggestion would not only induce any one of these varied forms of paralysis, but also the memories, capacities, and characters habitually accompanying it.

A young man named Spencer, an inmate of the Philadelphia Hospital, was exhibited before the American Neurological Society in June, 1896, as an example of dual personality. At the time of writing he is and has been in apparently perfect health, with no evidence of having been in any other condition. His faculties seem perfect, his education manifests itself in his intelligent performance of the cleric duties assigned to him at the hospital, yet the thread of continuous recollection which connects the present moment with its predecessors—consciousness and memory—has evidently been snapped at some point of time prior to March 3d and after January 19th, the last date at which he wrote to his parents, and as if in a dream, he is now living another life. The hospital staff generally believe that the man is not "shamming," as many circumstances seem to preclude that theory. His memory is perfect as to everything back to March 3d. The theory of hypnotism was advanced in explanation of this case.

The morbid sympathy of twin brothers, illustrated in Dumas's "Corsican Brothers," has been discussed by Sedgwick, Elliotson, Trousseau, Laycock, Cagentre, and others. Marshall Hall relates what would seem to verify the Corsican myth, the history of twin brothers nine months of age, who always became simultaneously affected with restlessness, whooping and crowing in breathing three weeks previous to simultaneous convulsions, etc. Rush describes a case of twin brothers dwelling in entirely different places, who had the same impulse at the same time, and who eventually committed suicide synchronously. Baunir describes a similar development of suicidal tendency in twin brothers. A peculiar case of this kind was that of the twin brothers Laustand who were nurses in a hospital at Bordeaux; they invariably became ill at the same time, and suffered cataract of the lens together.

Automatism has been noticed as a sequel to cranial injuries, and Huxley quotes a remarkable case reported by Mesnet. The patient was a young man whose parietal bone was partially destroyed by a ball. He exhibited signs of hemiplegia on the right side, but these soon disappeared and he became subject to periodic attacks lasting from twenty-four to forty-eight hours, during which he was a mere automaton. In these attacks he walked continually, incessantly moving his jaw, but not uttering a word. He was insensible to pain, electric shock, or pin-prick. If a pen was placed in his hand he would write a good letter, speaking sensibly about current topics. When a cigarette-paper was placed in his hand he sought his tobacco box, and adroitly rolled a cigarette and lighted it. If the light went out he procured another, but would not allow another to substitute a match. He allowed his mustache to be burned without resistance, but would not allow a light to be presented to him. If chopped charpie was put in his pocket instead of tobacco he knew no difference. While in his periods of automatism he was in the habit of stealing everything within his grasp. He had been a concert singer, and a peculiar fact was that if given white gloves he would carefully put them on and commence a pantomime of the actions of a singer, looking over his music, bowing, assuming his position, and then singing.

It is particularly in hypnotic subjects that manifestations of automatism are most marked. At the suggestion of battle an imaginary struggle at once begins, or if some person present is suggested as an enemy the fight is continued, the hypnotic taking care not to strike the person in question. Moll conceded that this looked like simulation, but repetition of such experiments forced him to conclude that these were real, typical hypnoses, in which, in spite of the sense-delusions, there was a dim, dreamy consciousness existing, which influenced the actions of the subject, and which prevented him from striking at a human being, although hitting at an imaginary object. Many may regard this behavior of hypnotics as pure automatism; and Moll adds that, as when walking in the street while reading we automatically avoid knocking passers-by, so the hypnotic avoids hitting another person, although he is dimly or not at all aware of his existence.

Gibbs reports a curious case of lack of integrity of the will in a man of fifty-five. When he had once started on a certain labor he seemed to have no power to stop the muscular exercise that the task called forth. If he went to the barn to throw down a forkful of hay, he would never stop until the hay was exhausted or someone came to his rescue. If sent to the wood-pile for a handful of wood, he would continue to bring in wood until the pile was exhausted or the room was full. On all occasions his automatic movements could only be stopped by force.

At a meeting in Breslau Meschede rendered an account of a man who suffered from simple misdirection of movement without any mental derangement. If from his own desire, or by direction of others, he wanted to attempt any muscular movement, his muscles performed the exact opposite to his inclinations. If he desired to look to the right, his eyes involuntarily moved to the left. In this case the movement was not involuntary, as the muscles were quiet except when called to action by the will, and then they moved to the opposite.

Presentiment, or divination of approaching death, appearing to be a hypothetic allegation, has been established as a strong factor in the production of a fatal issue in many cases in which there was every hope for a recovery. In fact several physicians have mentioned with dread the peculiar obstinacy of such presentiment. Hippocrates, Romanus, Moller, Richter, Jordani, and other older writers speak of it. Montgomery reports a remarkable case of a woman suffering from carcinoma of the uterus. He saw her on October 6, 1847, when she told him she had a strong presentiment of death on October 28th. She stated that she had been born on that day, her first husband had died on October 28th, and she had married her second husband on that day. On October 27th her pulse began to fail, she fell into a state of extreme prostration, and at noon on the 28th she died. In substantiation of the possibility of the influence of presentiment Montgomery cites another case in which he was called at an early hour to visit a lady, the mother of several children. He found her apparently much agitated and distressed, and in great nervous excitement over a dream she had had, in which she saw a handsome monument erected by some children to their mother. She had awakened and became dreadfully apprehensive, she could not tell as to what. The uneasiness and depression continued, her pulse continued to grow weak, and she died at twelve that night without a struggle. Andrews has made several observations on this subject, and concludes that presentiment of death is a dangerous symptom, and one which should never be overlooked. One of his cases was in a man with a fractured leg in the Mercy Hospital at Pittsburg. The patient was in good health, but one day he became possessed of a cool, quiet, and perfectly clear impression that he was about to die. Struck with his conviction, Andrews examined his pulse and general condition minutely, and assured the patient there was not the slightest ground for apprehension. But he persisted, and was attacked by pneumonia three days later which brought him to the verge of the grave, although he ultimately recovered. In another instance a young man of ruddy complexion and apparent good health, after an operation for varicocele, had a very clear impression that he would die. Careful examination showed no reason for apprehension. After five or six days of encouragement and assurance, he appeared to be convinced that his reasoning was foolish, and he gave up the idea of death. About the ninth day the wound presented a healthy, rosy appearance, and as the patient was cheerful he was allowed to leave his bed. After a few hours the nurse heard the noise of labored breathing, and on investigation found the patient apparently in a dying condition. He was given stimulants and regained consciousness, but again relapsed, and died in a few moments. At the necropsy the heart was found healthy, but there were two or three spots of extravasated blood in the brain, and evidences of cerebral congestion. Vos remarks that he remembers a case he had when dressing for Mr. Holden at St. Bartholomew's Hospital: "A man who had been intemperate was rolling a sod of grass, and got some grit into his left palm. It inflamed; he put on hot cow-dung poultices by the advice of some country friends. He was admitted with a dreadfully swollen hand. It was opened, but the phlegmonous process spread up to the shoulder, and it was opened in many places, and at last, under chloroform, the limb was amputated below the joint. The stump sloughed, and pus pointing at the back of the neck, an opening was again made. He became in such a weak state that chloroform could not be administered, and one morning he had such a dread of more incisions that, saying to us all standing round his bed, 'I can bear it no more, I must now die,' he actually did die in a few minutes in our presence. His was the last arm that Mr. Holden ever amputated at St. Bartholomew's."