Part 22

Now whatever influence tends to arrest or derange the _upper circulation_ of the blood in its return to the heart, or to detain it in the vessels of the brain, or which presses on an important nerve, so as to disturb the function of the brain or _spinal cord_, by _continuous sympathy_, may be the _remote_ cause of the phenomena of dreaming.

Such are the results of repletion, _dyspepsia_, the supine position, &c. &c.

And here, Astrophel, I meet your metaphysician.

Galen, and indeed the ancients generally, attributed dreams chiefly to indigestion; but referred their immediate excitement to fumes and vapours, instead of to nervous influence, or cerebral congestion from interrupted circulation.

CAST. And here, Evelyn, courtesy might have prompted you to meet my poets. Let me see, is it not Dryden who writes of—

“——rising fumes of undigested food, And noxious humours that disturb the blood?”

And in a poem believed to have been written by Chaucer, there is this passage: can I remember his quaintness?

“I supposed yt to have been some noxiall fantasy, As fallyth in dremes, in parties of the nyght, Which cometh of joy or grievous malady; Or of robuste metes which causeth grete myght; Overmoche replet obscuryth the syght Of natural reasonne, and causyth idyll thowght, Makyth the body hevy where hyt was lyght.”

And again, in the tale of the “Nonnes Preest:”

“Swevenes (dreams) engendren of repletions, And oft of fume and of complexions, When humours ben to habundant in a wight. Of other humours cou’d I telle also, That werken many a man in slepe moch wo,” &c.

EV. I sit reproved, fair lady. Herodotus also says, the Atlantes never dream; which Montaigne refers to their never eating anything which has died of itself. And Burton thus sums up his precepts of prevention:

“Against fearful and troublesome dreams, incubus, and inconveniences wherewith melancholy men are molested, the best remedy is to eat a light supper and of such meats as are easie of digestion, no hare, venison, beef, &c.; not to lie on his back,” &c.

Dryden, to ensure his brilliant visions of poesy, ate raw flesh; and Mrs. Radcliffe, I am told, adopted the same plan. We know that green tea and coffee, if we _do_ sleep, induce dreaming; and Baptista Porta, for procuring quiet rest and pleasing dreams, swallowed _horse-tongue_ after supper.

Indigestion, and that condition which is termed a weak or irritable stomach, constitute a most fruitful source of visions. The immediate or direct influence of repletion, in totally altering the sensations and the disposition in waking moments, is a proof of its power to derange the circulation of the brain and the mental faculties in sleep.

“Somnus ut sit levis, sit tibi cœna brevis.”

The influence of the great sympathetic nerve in this respect is very important. With many persons, a meal is usually followed by feelings of depression, impaired memory, unusual timidity, despondency, and other illusive characteristics of _hysteria_ and _hypochondriasis_. And events will appear of the greatest moment, which, after the lapse of some hours, will be considered mere trifles. So that, after all, there is some truth in the idea of that _archæus_, or great spirit, asserted, by Van Helmont, to sit at the _cardia_ of the stomach, and regulate almost all the other organs.

The posture of _supination_ will unavoidably induce that increased flow of blood to the brain which, under certain states of this fluid, is so essential to the production of brilliant waking thoughts; an end, indeed, attained so often by another mode—the swallowing of opium.

A gentleman of high attainment was constantly haunted by a spectre when he retired to rest, which seemed to attempt his life. When he raised himself in bed, _the phantom vanished, but reappeared as he resumed the recumbent posture_.

Some persons always retire to bed when they wish to think; and it is well known that Pope was often wont to ring for pens, ink, and paper, in the night, at Lord Bolingbroke’s, that he might record, ere it was lost, that most sublime or fanciful poesy which flashed through his brain as he lay in bed. Such, also, was the propensity of Margaret, Duchess of Newcastle, who (according to Cibber, or rather Sheil, the _real_ author of the “Lives of the Poets”) “kept a great many young ladies about her person, who occasionally wrote what she dictated. Some of them slept in a room contiguous to that in which her grace lay, and were ready, at the call of her bell, to rise any hour of the night to write down her conceptions, lest they should escape her memory.”

Henricus ab Heeres (in his “Obs. Med.”) says, that when he was a professor, he used to rise in the night, open his desk, compose much, shut his desk, and again to bed. On his waking he was conscious of nothing but the happy result of his compositions.

The engineer, Brindley, even retired to bed for a _day or two_, when he was reflecting on a grand or scientific project.

I deny not that the darkness or stillness of night may have had some influence during this inspiration. I may also allow that some few individuals compose best while they are walking; but this _peripatetic_ exertion is calculated, itself, to produce what we term determination of blood to the head. I have heard of a most remarkable instance of the power of position in influencing mental energy, in a German student, who was accustomed to study and compose with his head on the ground and his feet elevated, and resting against the wall.

And this is the fragment of a passage from Tissot, on the subject of monomania:

——“Nous avons vu étudier dans cette académie il n’y a pas long-temps, un jeune homme de mérite, qui _s’étant mis dans la tête_, de découvrir la quadrature du circle, est mort, fou, à l’hôtel Dieu, à Paris.”

You will smile when I tell you that the tints of the landscape are brighter to our eyes if we _reverse the position of the head_.

And now, with your leave, gentle ladies, I will bring phrenology to my aid.

If we assume that there may be distinct portions of the brain, organs of comparison, individuality, causality, &c., we naturally regard _them_ as the source of that combined faculty which we denominate _judgment_. We might argue, that if these organs were _permanently_ deficient, fatuity, or, at least, extreme folly, would be the result. By parity of reasoning we might infer, that if the function of such organs were _for a time suspended_, imagination, having lost its mentor, would, as it were, run wild, and an extravagant dream, granting an excitement, would be the result. If the organ of colour be excited, and form be asleep, we may have an _eccentric drawing_. If language and imagination are both awake, a poem or romance; so it _may_ chance, that if _all_ the proper organs are awake, there may be a rational dream.

I yield not to the too finely-spun hypotheses of Gall, and his first whimsical topography of the cranium; the incipient idea of which, by the by, he owes to the Arabian phrenologists who, even in the olden time, had glimpses, although they decided on a different location. Imagination was in the _frontal_ region, reason in the _medial_, and memory in the _occipital_.

In Dr. Spurzheim’s beautiful demonstration of the brain, he exhibits it almost as one large convoluted web. While the ultra-phrenologist is unravelling these convolutions, it is strange that he sees not the inconsistency of his cranial divisions. Some of the boundary lines of his organs _must be drawn across_ these convolutions. It will ever be impossible to decide the exact course of these, but the lines should be drawn in the direction of their fibres; for if the faculty be seated in one convolution, that faculty would proceed _in the course_ of its fibres, and not across the fissure from one lobule to another. Now the most frequent coincidence of the possession of great mental power, with full development of the frontal region of the skull, will naturally lead us to believe that it may depend on _causation_. Indeed a skull, as well as expression, may be phrenologically _changed_ by culture or thought. The skull of William Godwin, in early life, indicated an _intellectual_ development; then it became _sensual_, the _occipital_ organs being in excess; and again, as his mind was subject to more moral culture, the intellectual or _frontal_ again prevailed. I am informed, also, by Miss A——, that there was observed a progressive development of the intellectual region in the head of her father, an acute and deep thinker.

We have analogies to this in physiognomy. Caspar Hauser lost some of the negro fulness about his mouth after he had been introduced to society. Perhaps the contrasted beauty and deformity in the forehead and eye, and in the mouth of Sheridan, was a faithful indication of that paradox of mind which was never more perfectly displayed than in the intellectual dignity and moral deficiency of this man. As no function, then, either of brain or gland, can be carried on without a due supply of blood, it will follow that _position_ may materially influence the integrity of these functions. The seat of the organs I have alluded to, if cranial development supports me, may be determined on the fore part of the head, behind the _os frontis_, portions of the cerebral mass which, in the _supine_ position, are usually most elevated above the centre of circulation. “The more noble the faculties, the higher are the organs situated.” These, consequently, may endure a deficiency of stimulus, in comparison with other organs more favourably situated. The phrenologist, then, will endeavour to prove, that the supine position generally produces _vascular pressure_ on particular parts or organs of the _encephalon_; and he will argue that dreams arise from individual organs abstractedly or unconnectedly acting. There is one spot on the cranium, indeed, identified by Dr. Spurzheim as a most important item in the composition of a good dreamer. He tells us, that “persons who have the part above and a little behind the organ of _ideality_ developed, are much prone to mysticism, to see visions and ghosts, and to dream.”

It may not be difficult to believe in this _partial_ function of the brain, when we recollect how often the loss of one faculty will be connected with _paralytic_ disorders. The faculty of _perception_ may be lost, unless the impression on the mind is made through a _particular_ sense. Thus patients may be unable to comprehend that name or subject when it was _pronounced_, or related, which they will immediately do, if _written_ down and presented to the sight,—_the optic nerve may transmit while the auditory has lost its power_.

“Segnius irritant animos _demissa per aures_, Quam quæ sunt _oculis subjecta_ fidelibus.”

Of this axiom there is an illustrative story, by Darwin, in his “Zoonomia.”—A paralytic man could see and hear, but the _mind_ was _conscious of vision only_. If the hour of breakfast were _named_ to him, he repeated it and was passive; but if the hour were _pointed out_ on the watch, he comprehended at once, and called for breakfast.

On the contrary, there may be the same imperfection of _outward transmission_; the _lingual nerves_, influencing the tongue to sound a name _inapplicable to the idea_, the person often reversing the names of articles which he is continually using.

These phenomena regarding nerves of sense, then, are strictly analogous to those which we recognize in those parts of the brain which are intimately connected with, or influenced by, these nerves of sense: thus in analogy to waking illusions, we have the _imperfect_ associations of a dream when the organs are irregularly acted on.

INCUBUS, OR NIGHT-MARE.

“O’er ladies’ lips, who straight on kisses dream.” ROMEO AND JULIET.

“Let us be lead within thy bosom, Richard, And weigh thee down.” KING RICHARD III.

ASTR. I will no longer hesitate to grant that the dream occurs in the moment of departing or returning consciousness. Still, are you not _reversing_ the order of these phenomena? may not the excitement of vague ideas in the mind be, itself, the cause of waking, and not the consequence of slumber, or half-sleep?

EV. I believe not, except the sensibility of the body be influenced by touch, or sound, or by oppressive congestions of blood in the brain, causing that state of disturbance which reduces sound sleep to slumber; as in the instance of “Night-mare,” which is to the mind what sensation is to the body, restoring it to a state of _half-consciousness_, essential to that sort of dreaming, in which we make a painful effort to relieve, and at last awake.

CAST. Mara, by my fay! the night-spectre of Scandinavia; that evil spirit of the Runic theology, who weighed upon the bosom, and bereaved her victims of speech and motion: that oppressive dream, therefore, termed _Hag-ridden_, or, in the Anglo-Saxon, _Elf-siderme_. Is it not she, of whom it is written,—

“We seem to run, and destitute of force, Our sinking limbs forsake us in the course. In vain we heave for breath, in vain we cry; The nerves unbraced, their usual strength deny, And on the tongue the faltering accents die.”

EV. A very faithful picture.

Sound sleep will often be broken by pain or uneasiness occurring in a particular part of the body; the dream will then often bear an instructive reference to the seat and nature of such pain. If cramp has attacked any of the limbs, or the head has been long confined back, the dream may be enlivened by some analogous tortures in the dungeon of the Inquisition; and it is curious, that a waking wish for some relief from unpleasant sensations will be _re_-excited in the dream,—a _dreamy fulfilment_. Captain Back, during one of the Arctic expeditions, when nearly in a state of starvation, often dreamed of indulging in _a delicious repast_. And Professor Stewart thus writes,—“I have been told by a friend, that, having occasion to apply a bottle of hot water to his feet, he dreamed that he was making a journey to the top of Mount Ætna, and that he found the heat of the ground insupportable. Another, having a blister applied to the head, dreamed that he was _scalped_ by a party of Indians.”

If on these occasions we are warm in bed, our dreams will be often pleasing, and the scenes in the tropics; if _cold_, or chilly, the reverse, and we shall believe ourselves in Zembla.

Holcroft had been musing on the probabilities of life and death, and one night went in pain to bed. He dreamed his body was severed above his hips, and again joined in a surprising manner. He was astonished to think he was alive, and afraid of being struck, lest the parts should be dissevered.

Tempests heard in a slumber will be often associated with a dream of shipwreck; and some persons will dream of their having given pain to, or injured, others: they wake, and find some close analogy to _their own_ sensations.

It is recorded that Cornelius Rufus dreamed that he was blind, and _so_ indeed _he awoke_.

In other cases, we have the _double touch_, as it is termed; dreams of forcible detention occur, and the sleeper has found that he had with one hand tightly grasped the other. If this hand had been _moved in sleep_ unconsciously, the dream, no doubt, would have been essentially changed. And thus we have all the phenomena realised, which Shakspere has referred to in the visitations of his incorrigible Mab.

Elliston was always awaked by nightmare when sleeping in a strange bed.

As in some persons, by submitting the body to certain impressions during sleep, associated dreams may be produced at pleasure; so if the body or legs hang over the side of a bed, we may instantly dream of falling from a precipice: and it is curious that, under these illusions, we awake when we are past hope and our despair is at its height: in falling, at the moment we are about to be dashed to atoms; and, in drowning, when the last bubbles are gurgling in the throat.

When we read in the Bodleian, Astrophel, I will point you to other curious experiments of this sort, by M. de Buzareingries.

Sounds also may be partly associated with the dream at waking, and with reality, when awake. Under this illusive impression, even murder has been _innocently_ committed, on one, who waked, and stabbed his brother at the moment he was _dreaming_ of assassins.

CAST. And so may be explained, I suppose, this funny anecdote. A young lover was drooping into a day-dream, while sitting with his brothers and sisters, and his thought had turned on the cruelty of his mistress. He was for a moment dreaming of her, when pussy, stretching her paws, scratched his leg with a claw: there was an instant association, I presume, of the wound with the lady’s cruelty, for he started and exclaimed, “Oh Arabella, don’t!”

EV. Hippocrates quaintly alludes to the dreaming about seas and lakes as an indication of _hydrothorax_; and to others, as symptomatic of _effusion on the brain_: and it has been asserted, that gloomy dreams in fevers indicate danger. But all this is hypothesis; indeed, the delirious dreams of fever are often bright and cheerful.

The “Opium-Eater” has a strange fancy regarding his dreams of “silvery expanses of water;” “these haunted me so much, that I feared that some dropsical state or tendency of the brain, might thus be making itself _objective_, and the sentient organ project itself as its own object.” I hope you understand this, Astrophel—I do not.

In the morbid condition of _hypochondriasis_, which is a sort of permanent _daymare_, similar fancies are excited. Esquirol’s patient at Notre Dame thought the pope held council in her belly;—her intestines were found _closely adherent_ together. Another monomaniac thought the devil had stretched a cord across her stomach;—her heart was _adherent to its bag_. Another believed that her body was stolen by the devil;—she was in reality paralytic, and _insensible_ to blows or pricking.

To explain some of these illusions, Jason Pratensis very gravely asserts, that “the devil being a slender incomprehensible spirit, can easily insinuate and wind himself into human bodies, and, cunningly couched in our bowels, terrify our souls with fearful dreams.”

I may add that we see, in some, a delirious _transmigration of sensation_. Parkinson relates these cases. One referred his own sensation to others, telling his nurse that his visitors were hungry, while his own voracity plainly indicated that the _hunger was in himself_. Another, in a fit of intoxication, insisted on undressing all his family, as they were drunk, and could not do it themselves.

Now we certainly move ourselves unconsciously in our sleep as a relief from painful positions. If, however, these uneasy sensations are increased from stagnant blood about the heart and lungs, the oppression is extreme, and _loads_ the moving powers; producing a transient agony and an intense effort. If this were unsuccessful on the limbs and speech, the result would be often destructive.

The night-mare dreamers are usually lethargic, and their ideas are often wild and visionary.

Polidori, the author of the “Vampire,” was a prey to night-mare; he died with a laudanum bottle in his bed. And Coleridge might have thus left a sad and pointed moral; blazoning his wretched suicide to that world, which unconsciously has pored with a thrill of admiration over those fruits of his delinquency, the romantic and unearthly stories of Christabel and the Ancient Mariner.

The grand feature of night-mare, then, is _impediment_: but how can I record all its varieties of miserable struggles; of attacks and manglings from wild monsters: of the rolling of mountains on the heart: or the unhallowed embraces of a witch?

The young lady who reads mythology, will fancy herself a syrinx, and struggle to escape from the amorous clutches of Pan. If we have been thinking of Chamouni and her giant peaks of snow, we may be overwhelmed in our sleep by the fall of an avalanche; or we may be dashed off a precipice, and feel ourselves falling into interminable space without a hope of resting.

A lady whom I know, and who is a frequent subject of night-mare, is very uniform in this dreamy occupation. She is shaken to and fro in her bed by fiends, and the process seems to her to occupy considerable time. And there are many who are tortured by the feeling that they are buried alive, and attempt to cry out, and beat against their coffin-lid in vain. Aurelian writes, that the epidemics in Rome were premonished by _incubus_.

These, and thousands of a similar kind, might be cited; but a vivid imagination, with a hint or two, will readily create them at its pleasure.

“A battalion of French soldiers, during the toils and dangers of a campaign, were marching on a certain point on a most oppressive day, and at double the usual speed; their strength was eight hundred men, all hardy, seasoned, and courageous; careless of danger, despising the devil, and little occupied with the thoughts of ghosts and phantasmagoria. On the night of the occurrence in question, the battalion was forced to occupy a narrow and low building at Tropœa, barely calculated to accommodate three hundred persons. Nevertheless, they slept; but, at midnight, one and all were roused by frightful screams issuing from all quarters of the house; and to the eyes of the astonished and affrighted soldiers appeared the vision of a huge dog, which bounded in through the window, and rushed with extraordinary heaviness and speed over the breasts of the spectators. The soldiers quitted the building in terror. Next night, by the solicitations of the surgeon and _chef-de-bataillon_, who accompanied them, they again resumed their previous quarters. ‘We saw,’ says the narrator, ‘that they _slept_. We watched the arrival of the hour of the preceding panic, and midnight had scarcely struck when the veteran soldiers, for the second time, started to their feet. Again they had heard the supernatural voices, again the visionary hound had bestrode them to suffocation. The _chef-de-bataillon_ and myself heard or saw nothing of these events.’”

The superstitious thought this spectre to be the devil; but the heat and _carbonic acid gas_ were, I believe, enough for the excitement of the phantasm and the feeling.

There can scarcely be imagined a more terrific feeling than this sense of extreme danger, or difficulty, this intense impediment, without a power to avert it. The constant labour of Sisyphus, with his rolling-down stone, and the punishment of Tantalus, would yield in severity to the agony of night-mare, but for its _transient_ existence.

It seems to me, that this want of balance between will and power influences human nature so much, that life itself may be termed one long and painful _incubus_. The actions we perform seldom reach the perfection which the will desires. Hence arises that constant dissatisfaction, which even the close approach to perfection of some of the most accomplished professors of art and science cannot avert.