- •'■['.''i' 
 
 
 
 R' I It ' " .■ it 
 
LIBRARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 University of California. 
 
 Class 
 
 EDUC. 
 PSYCH. 
 
**•» " 
 
 Hill. 
 
}i 1/ 
 

 To 
 
 THE MEMORY OP 
 
 MY WIFE, 
 
 WHO IRSPIRBD ME WITH COURAGE TO DNDEBTAKE THE PEEPAEATION OF 
 THIS ESSAY, 
 
 AND WHO BY HER PEN RENDERED ITS PREPARATION POSSIBLE J 
 
 And TO 
 MY DAUGHTER, 
 
 WHO, TAKING THE PEN SNATCHED BY DEATH FROM HEB MOTHEB, 
 
 CONTINOED HER MOTHER'S INSPIRATION, 
 
 AND ASSUMED HER MOTHER'S TASK, 
 
 Ef)eat ^ages 
 ABE DEDICATED 
 
 /'i _L o A«i O i7 
 
" The view of things hy means of the eyes isfuU of decep- 
 tion, as also is that through the ears and the other senses : . . . . 
 but that it is the brain which produces the perceptions of hear- 
 ing, seeing, and sinelling, and that from these come memory 
 and opinion.''^ — Ph^do of Plato. 
 
OOIJfTElSrTS. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 I FAOB 
 
 i^isions common to human experience. definitions . 5-19 
 
 Cases and Comments 10-50 
 
 >ft.ppARiVTUs OF Vision, etc 50 
 
 ^Physiological Analysis of Vision .... 55 
 
 Functions of the Tubekcula Quadeigemina ... 68 
 
 "^isuAL Centre of the Hemispheres .... 104 
 
 ' ^X'he Frontal Lobes 125 
 
 VEffects of Habit, Association, Emotion, Volition, ex- 
 pectant Attention 138 
 
 Relations of the Blood with the Brain, Metamor- 
 phosis OF Tissue, Waste, etc 153 
 
 Effects of Drugs : 
 
 Digitalis 166 
 
 Quinine 167 
 
 Strychnine 168 
 
 The Bromides 169 
 
 Opium 174 
 
 Indian Hemp (Hashish) 179 
 
 Alcohol 186 
 
 Ether 190 
 
 Influence of Disease 193 
 
 Influence of Volition 201 
 
 Remarkable Cases 206, 209 
 
 Visions peculiar to Children 212 
 
 Summary, with Illustrative Figure .... 218-223 
 
Tl CONTENTS. 
 
 PAEXn. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Explanation of Visions. Sight not a Function of the 
 
 Eyes, but of this Bkain 224 
 
 Explanation of Cases given in the First Part . 227 
 
 Case communicated by Dk. Weir Mitchell . . . 246 
 
 Spinoza's Vision 254 
 
 Macbeth's Vision of the Dagger 256 
 
 Visions of the Dying 258 
 
 Case of Dr. 262 
 
 Case from the " New Quarterly Review " . . 266 
 
 Case of a Child 274 
 
 Case of Mrs. 276 
 
 Visions of Sleep 279 
 
 Case of exposed Brain . 282 
 
 Different Varieties of Dreams 303 
 
 Case of a Medical Student 305 
 
 Lord Brougham's Vision ... ... 307 
 
 Case from the " Psychological Journal " . . 313 
 
 Case from Wundt . 315 
 
IJ^TEODUOTIOJN". 
 
 By OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES, M. D. 
 
 The unfinished essay here presented to the public 
 has a singular and quite exceptional interest. When 
 its author had read his death sentence, and knew that 
 the malignant disease of which he was the subject 
 would be slow in its work and involve great suffering, 
 he felt that he must have something to occupy his mind 
 and turn it away in some measure from dwelling only 
 on the tortures of his body. He therefore took up the 
 study of a question in which he had long been inter- 
 ested and made it his daily occupation to write upon it. 
 So long as his strength lasted sufficiently, he wrote 
 with his own hand. After this he employed another 
 to write at his dictation. 
 
 This disease had already made deep inroads upon his 
 constitution, and he was every day becoming more de- 
 pendent on the ministrations of those about him, when 
 his wife, who had been his nurse, his amanuensis, his 
 patient and tender companion, was seized with sudden 
 illness which after a few days ended in her death. It 
 is not often that a human heart is tried at once with 
 the pangs of bodily suffering and the agony of grief 
 as his was at this distressing period. But he bore up 
 
Viii INTRODUCTION. 
 
 against it all with a courage and serenity which it 
 seemed as if nothing could subdue. After a time he 
 returned to his work. His mind had lost nothing of its 
 discriminating force, his language nothing of its clear- 
 ness. Again I found him busy with his manuscripts 
 when I entered his chamber at my frequent friendly 
 visits. He became again interested in the trains of 
 thought he had been following. He would hand me a 
 page or two of his manuscript for criticism, or bring up 
 some special point for my consideration. All this time 
 the deadly internal disease was feeding on his life, and 
 not an hour was free from suffering ercept when his 
 pains were lulled into temporary quiet by the use of 
 narcotics. At length the pen dropped from his hand, 
 the mind ceased from its labors, he lingered a little 
 longer in a state of being that was divided between 
 anguish and stupor, and the end long wished for came 
 at last. 
 
 Throughout his long and wearing illness he had 
 watched himself as he would have watched one of his 
 patients. He knew what was almost certainly to be 
 the issue of his disease, and had known it from a very 
 early period. Yet he did not speak of himself as if he 
 knew his case to be hopeless. It seemed to me some- 
 times as if he felt that it was not courteous to his vis- 
 itor to appear in the attitude of a condemned man, and 
 that he spoke of the possibility that the disease might 
 not prove malignant in its nature rather to make his 
 guest feel more cheerfully about him than because he 
 himself indulged in any vain illusion. 
 
 The essay bears evidence of the philosophical state 
 
INTRODUCTION, ix 
 
 of mind in which it was written. I have been sur- 
 prised to find how little correction of any kind it re- 
 quired. From the first page to the last it is clear, 
 connected, without a trace of any disturbing influence. 
 
 A strange thought suggests itself, which is perhaps 
 too fanciful to be mentioned in this connection. I can- 
 not help being reminded of the Indian brave's deatli- 
 song, in which he calmly defies his tormentors. Socrates 
 was about to die when he discoursed in those imperish- 
 able words which the Phasdo records for us, but he was 
 not in bodily torture. This serene disquisition was writ- 
 ten in hours of distress which were intervals of agony. 
 No stoic of the woods, no philosopher of antiquity ever 
 faced his doom with a more unshaken constancy and 
 courage, with a nobler tranquillity, than the writer of 
 this essay. Had it no other claim upon the reader, 
 it would always have an interest as the mental legacy 
 of one who was much honored and loved, and as a les- 
 son of manhood too precious to be forgotten. 
 
 Although the essay is left unfinished, it should not 
 be called a fragment. It would not be difiicult to com- 
 plete it by the addition of a very moderate number of 
 pages. It was left by Dr. Clarke to my decision what 
 disposition should be made of the manusci'ipt. I had 
 heard many portions of it, and discussed many points 
 involved in it with him. But I read it all over care- 
 fully, and had no hesitation in deciding that, imperfect 
 as it was, it should be given to the public. I did not 
 look up the literature of the subject to see for myself 
 just how far Dr. Clarke's ideas had been anticipated, or 
 how far they were in opposition to those of any other 
 
X INTRODUCTION. 
 
 physiologist or psychologist. . I made no changes of 
 any importance, and no additions whatever. The man- 
 uscript was singularly free from errors and corrections, 
 both that portion of it written with his own hand, and 
 the parts which were copied for him, and ray work was 
 hardly needed in addition to that of the corrector of 
 the press. 
 
 I have made out a table of contents which will per- 
 haps be a sufficient guide to the general and the scien- 
 tific reader, in looking after what sf)ecially interests 
 them. But I will indicate a few of the pages which 
 will be found more particularly attractive to most of 
 those who take up the essay. 
 
 As Dr. Clarke resolves so large a part of mental 
 action into pure automatism, it is only fair to remem- 
 ber these words of his, showing that he recognized 
 something beyond this. He is speaking of the visions 
 of the dying. 
 
 " Probably all such visions as these are automatic. 
 But yet, who, believing in God and personal immortal- 
 ity, as the writer rejoices in doing, will dare to say ab- 
 solutely all ? Will dare to assert there is no possible 
 exception ? " (p. 272.) It must be borne in mind, 
 too, that he recognized the " ego " as distinct from '■ his 
 engine," the bodily mechanism (p. 168), and that he 
 speaks of the will as a prinium mobile, — an initial 
 force, — a cause." (p. 211.) 
 
 Ingenious and interesting as are the speculative por- 
 tions of the essay, the numerous hitherto unrecorded 
 cases will perhaps be found its most permanently val- 
 uable contribution to science. Physiological opinions. 
 
INTRODUCTION. xi 
 
 and even commonly accepted results, may be rejected as 
 unsatisfactory by another generation of experimenters 
 and theorists ; but well recorded cases, drawn up by 
 trustworthy witnesses, do not lose their value with the 
 lapse of time. Such are many of these which are pre- 
 sented to the reader. I may venture to add that I my- 
 self knew personally the subjects of the cases recorded 
 on pages 39, 262, and 277, and have heard a minute and 
 circumstantial account of each of these cases from the 
 lips of Dr. Clarke himself. With reference to the last 
 case, Dr. Clarke mentioned a circumstance to me not 
 alluded to in the essay. At the very instant of disso- 
 lution, it seemed to him, as he sat at the dying lady's 
 bedside, that there arose "■ something " — an undefined 
 yet perfectly apprehended somewhat, to which he could 
 give no name, but which was like a departing presence. 
 I should have listened to this story less receptively, it 
 may be, but for the fact that I had heard the very 
 same experience, almost in the very same words, from 
 the lips of one whose evidence is eminently to be relied 
 upon. With the last breath of the parent she was 
 watching, she had the consciousness that " something " 
 arose, as if the " spirit " had made itself cognizable at 
 the moment of quitting its mortal tenement. The co- 
 incidence in every respect of these two experiences has 
 seemed to me to justify their mention in this place. 
 
 The facts relating to the frequency of visions in 
 children, and their power of summoning them up by an 
 exercise of will, p. 212, also deserve special attention. 
 
 Whatever Dr. Clarke has to say concerning the ac- 
 tion of drugs is peculiarly entitled to confidence, as he 
 
sai INTRODUCTION. 
 
 was a most diligent student of their various modes of 
 action, and had a great experience witli tliem, more es- 
 pecially in all that relates to the use and abuse of nar- 
 cotics and stimulants. 
 
 But there is one case recorded which I venture to 
 say no human being who draws the breath of life can 
 read without profound interest. It is that which may 
 be found on page 262. It is a deep-sea sounding of 
 the dark abyss where each of us all is to sink out of 
 sight sooner or later. The wise physician is on friendly 
 terms with death. It is as much a jihysiological ne- 
 cessity as life, and though, like the visit of an officer 
 of justice, its entrance must not be allowed without a 
 proper warrant, yet that warrant is sure to be issued 
 at last. The wonderful calmness of the observed and 
 the observer, in this almost if not quite unique case, 
 impart a perfectly scientific character to this observa- 
 tion of an event which is commonly yielded passively 
 to the empire of emotion. Many, who through fear of 
 death have been all their life-time subject to bondage, 
 will, I believe, find more consolation in this recital than 
 in almost any other human record. 
 
 I will only add a single remark for the scientific 
 reader. The expressions " cell-groups," " polarizing 
 the cells," and some other terms must be accepted, 
 rather as a convenient form of signifying an unknown 
 change of condition, than as intended to be taken lit- 
 erally. And I may say in conclusion that the whole 
 essay must be read not with an over-critical spirit, but 
 in the constant recollection of the mental conflict going 
 on during the long agony in the course of which it was 
 written 
 
INTRODUCTION. xiii 
 
 I subjoin, at the request of his nearest relative, the 
 obituary notice which was furnished by myself to the 
 " Boston Daily Advertiser." A few very trifling al- 
 terations only have been made, and the reader will, I 
 trust, overlook any repetitions of what has been said 
 in the preceding pages. 
 
 EDWARD HAlVniOND CLARKE. 
 
 BOEN, FEBRUARY 2, 1820 ; DIED, NOVEMBER 30, 1877. 
 
 The death of Dr. Clarke has not fallen upon our 
 community as a surprise. It has long been known that 
 he was suffering from a disease so nearly hopeless, as 
 to leave scarcely a possibility of its retracing its steady 
 progress toward a fatal issue. For the last three years 
 he has been unable to practice his profession. A year 
 ago he might be met occasionally walking languidly in 
 the Public Garden ; for some months he has been con- 
 fined to his chamber, and for the past few weeks to his 
 bed. The internal disease which was wasting his life 
 was full of anguish. He was never free from pain 
 except when under the influence of anodynes, and from 
 time to time was racked with agony. It is a great sor- 
 row to lose him, but all who know what he has been 
 enduring must be thankful that he is released from his 
 bondage to suffering. The tributes which have been 
 rendered to his memory might seem to render unneces- 
 sary the words which can do little more than repeat 
 what has been so well said already. I need only refer 
 to the full and very interesting sketch of his life in the 
 " Evening Transcript," and to the eloquent discourses 
 
XIV INTRODUCTION. 
 
 delivered from the pulpit, by the Rev. Mr. Ware and 
 the Rev. Dr. Bartol, which the public has had the priv- 
 ilege of reading. But as one of the friends who have 
 Been him often and intimately during the years of his 
 morttal illness, I cannot forbear to add my testimony 
 to that of others, who have watched him through the 
 course of that protracted martyrdom. 
 
 The antecedents of a man so distinguished by his 
 high qualities will always be looked at with interest. 
 Almost invariably some elements of the mental and 
 moral traits which marked him will be found in the 
 line of ancestry from w^hich he is descended. Dr. 
 Clarke's father, the Rev. Pitt Clarke, was one of those 
 excellent New England clergymen, whose blood seems 
 to carry the scholarly and personal virtues with it to 
 their descendants, oftentimes for successive generations. 
 From a brief account of his life, written by himself, 
 and a sketch by his son, the late Manlius Stimson 
 Clarke, it is easy to draw the portrait of the good pas- 
 tor who, for forty-two years, ministered to the people 
 of the pleasant village of Norton, Massachusetts. His 
 simple, industrious habits, for he worked on his farm 
 as well as preached to the farmers round him, his creed 
 or " Confession of Faith," which he left as a legacy to 
 his flock, a creed devout, humane, with a stronger flavor 
 of Matthew's gospel than of Paul's epistles, but refer- 
 ring all to the " sacred volume " as " the sole rule of 
 his faith, preaching and practice " ; the love and confi- 
 dence with which he was regarded in the community, — 
 these would give the. outline which the reverence and 
 affection of his children filled up with their remem- 
 brances. 
 
INTRODUCTION. xv 
 
 We are apt to look, perhaps, with even more interest 
 upon the mothers of those who have become justly 
 distinguished and honored. Dr. Clarke's mother, Mary- 
 Jones Stimson before marriage, second wife of his 
 father, was one of those women who live and die 
 known to but a few persons comparatively, but who 
 are remembered by those few as more to be loved and 
 admired than many whose names are familiar, and not 
 undeservedly so, to the public. She was endowed with 
 noble and attractive personal qualities, was very fond 
 of literature, and left many poems, some of which are 
 preserved in a small memorial volume and show a cul- 
 tivated taste as well as warm affections. It is impos- 
 sible to read the lines " To a Son in College," or " A 
 Prayer," without feeling that such a mother was worthy 
 to be rewarded with such children as God gave her. 
 
 Edward Hammond Clarke, her fourth and youngest 
 child, was born in Norton, February 2, 1820, graduated 
 at Harvard College in 1841, took his medical degree 
 at Philadelphia in 1846, travelled extensively in Europe 
 with the eldest son of the late Mr. Abbott Lawrence, 
 and established himself at length in Boston, where he 
 acquired and maintained a leading position among his 
 contemporaries. In 1855 he was chosen Professor of 
 Materia Medica in the medical school of Harvard Uni- 
 versity, succeeding to the very distinguished Dr. Jacob 
 Bigelow. This office he resigned in 1872, and was at 
 once chosen a member of the Board of Overseers of the 
 University. He still continued in active practice until 
 assailed by the disease which ended in his death on the 
 30th of November just past. 
 
XVI INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Returning to his early history, we find that the state 
 of his health obliged him to leave college before the 
 second term of the senior year, so that he could not 
 take any part at commencement, but that he stood first 
 in his class at the time of leavjpg. He had intended 
 studying divinity, but circumstances changed his course, 
 and he adopted the profession in which he attained 
 great eminence, as he would have done in any other 
 which he might have chosen. He would have been a 
 very learned and acute theologian. Those who have 
 heard him speak upon questions before legislative com- 
 mittees cannot doubt that he would have been a pow- 
 erful advocate. Calm in manner as in mind, clear in 
 statement, looking at subjects in a broad way and from 
 many sides, yet shrewd to see on which side lay the 
 truth he was in search of, he would have probably 
 found his way from the bar to the bench, and left the 
 name of a wise, if not of a great, judge upon our 
 records. 
 
 No one ought to regret the choice which gave such 
 a helper to lighten the burden of human infirmities. 
 He had all the qualities which go to the making of a 
 master in the art of healing ; " science " enough, but 
 not so much in the shape of minute, unprofitable acqui- 
 sition as to make him near-sighted ; very great indus- 
 try ; love of his profession and entire concentration of 
 his faculties upon it, with those mental qualities already 
 spoken of as fitting him for other duties, but which 
 equally fitted him to form a judicial opinion in the 
 silent court-room where nature is trying one of her dif- 
 ficult cases. 
 
INTRODUCTION. xvil 
 
 Such a man is pretty sure to find his place in any 
 great centre of population. But to be recognized as 
 standing at the head of the medical profession in a 
 large city, or an extensive district, implies a previous 
 long and arduous struggle, at least in one who comes 
 unheralded and unknown. Every step of such a man's 
 ascent must be made, like an Alpine climber's in the 
 glacier, in the icy steep of indifference ; fortunate for 
 him if he does not slip or is not crushed before he 
 reaches the summit, where there is hardly room for 
 more than one at a time. 
 
 It was in such a position that Dr. Clarke stood when 
 he felt the first symptoms of the disease to which he 
 was to fall a victim. He cannot have been suffering 
 very long from it when he consulted one of our most 
 skilful surgeons, and learned the too probably malig- 
 nant nature of the affection. There was a chance, per- 
 haps, that the symptoms might be interpreted otherwise 
 than as a certain warrant of death. For the greater 
 part of the time, while the writer was an habitual vis- 
 itor to his sick chamber, he was in the habit, if he 
 referred to his disease at all, of speaking as if he had 
 a chance of recovery. It was only a few weeks before 
 his death that he spoke of the end as rapidly approach- 
 ing, and then said that the trial of parting with life 
 had been long over, even from the time when he had 
 first sought the surgeon's opinion. One sleepless night, 
 in which he walked his chamber alone with his fatal 
 sentence ; a letter preparing the one nearest to him 
 for the inevitable approaching future ; after that strug- 
 gle he felt as if the darkest passage of the valley of the 
 
XVlll INTRODUCTION. 
 
 shadow of death had been left behind him, and walked 
 serenely forward from that day to the end. 
 
 If all who knew him and leaned upon him as their 
 cherished and trusted adviser ; if all who valued him 
 and loved him as a friend ; if all who felt his impor- 
 tance as an active and wise and public-spirited citizen ; 
 if all whom his well-weighed and soberly stated opin- 
 ions on educational and hygienic subjects have influ- 
 enced, both at home and abroad ; if all the pupils who 
 have sought his guidance in the important branch which 
 he invested with so much attraction, as well as made 
 affluent with fresh instruction, — if all these were to, 
 record their praises and their regrets, the volume must 
 be ample that would hold his eulogy. 
 
 There is only space for a brief notice of some of his 
 excellences in different directions. And first of all, as a 
 physician. It may be asked, what are the points of 
 superiority which make the great practitioner ? It is 
 not the power of making a minute diagnosis ; in other 
 words, of naming and localizing a disease with the 
 greatest nicety. It is not the power of displaying, dif- 
 ferentiating, and describing the efifects of disease as 
 shown in the degenerated organs which once belonged 
 to a patient. Skill in these two branches is often found 
 in the same individuals, and is always justly and greatly 
 to be valued ; but one may be a skilful interpreter of 
 the signs of disease, and an expert with the scalpel and 
 the microscope, and yet very inferior as a practitioner 
 to another who is far less instructed than himself in 
 both of these departments. Given a fair acquaintance 
 with the meaning of the ordinary signs and symptoms of 
 
INTRODUCTION. xix 
 
 disease, and the alterations which give rise to them, the 
 best practitioner is the one who seizes most readily and 
 certainly the vital conditions and constitutional tenden- 
 cies of the patient, and shows most sagacity, tact, and 
 fertility of resources in dealing with the varying states 
 of his mind and body, whether or not he has occasion 
 to use special remedies for special purposes, as every 
 routine practitioner is capable of doing. Here it was 
 that Dr. Clarke showed his mastery. He read his 
 patient's mind as every man must who would control 
 another ; he took in the whole bodily condition and its 
 changes by careful examinations, scrupulously recorded 
 after his visits for the day were finished ; and he knew, 
 as very few practitioners really know, what remedies 
 could and could not do, — but especially what they 
 could do in the way of alleviating sufEeriug and shorten- 
 ing or arresting curable diseases. 
 
 As an instructor Dr. Clarke was the admiration of his 
 pupils. His plan of teaching therapeutics was his own, 
 and he not only spoke with authority, but made a sub- 
 ject commonly thought among the least interesting of 
 a medical course a great centre of attraction to the 
 students of the medical school. In the councils of the 
 Faculty his opinion was always listened to with respect, 
 as coming from one of its wisest and most fair-minded 
 members. 
 
 As a writer he published no voluminous work. He 
 contributed various articles on the Materia Medica to 
 the " New American Cyclopaedia." In conjunction 
 with Dr. Robert Amory, he published, in 1872, a small 
 volume on the physiological and therapeutical action of 
 
XX INTRODUCTION. 
 
 the bromides of potassium and ammonium. In 1876 he 
 published, under the title of " Practical Medicine," a 
 brief and clear account of the progress of medical 
 knowledge during the century just finished. But noth- 
 ing that came from his pen has been so universally read 
 as his essay entitled " Sex in Education." This publi- 
 cation was like a trumpet-call to battle, and started a 
 contest which is not yet over. Dr. Clarke received a 
 great number of letters and printed communications 
 confirming his views, and was made the object of many 
 attacks, which he bore with perfect equanimity, feeling 
 that he had honestly given the results of his experience, 
 having only the good of the community in view. A 
 second essay, " The Building of a Brain," followed up 
 the first, with various important propositions bearing 
 on education, and was widely read, but provoked less 
 sharp antagonism. He wrote a valuable letter on the 
 park question, and on all subjects relating to public 
 health his opinion was looked to as of very high 
 authority. 
 
 During the confinement of his last illness he occu- 
 pied himself much with reading, and in the later part 
 of the time, until his strength entirely failed him, with 
 writing, chiefly on points of psychology which particu- 
 larly interested him. He seemed to enjoy discussing 
 nice and difiicult questions with some of his visitors, 
 and it was pleasant, following his lead, to see him for- 
 get himself for a little while in the analysis of menta\ 
 operations, in which he showed a power of steady anA 
 penetrating thought which would have given him a 
 name in metaphysical speculation if he had concen 
 
INTRODUCTION. xxi 
 
 trated his efforts in that direction. He had the great 
 advantage of having studied the working of the mind 
 under various exceptional conditions, and had many 
 strange things to tell from his own experience, all of 
 which he was disposed to account for without invoking 
 any of the vulgar machinery commonly called in to ex- 
 plain such phenomena. 
 
 His constitution was gradually yielding to his dis- 
 ease. The end which he had long foreseen as probable 
 was growing more and more certain, if possible, and, 
 of course, coming nearer and nearer. What affection 
 could do to help him bear his anguish was done for him 
 tenderly and lovingly by his devoted wife and daughter, 
 and the friends who were anxious to render their ser- 
 vices. In this strait of a dependent, suffering, and fail- 
 ing life, the wife, to whom he looked for daily care and 
 solace, who was to watch his decline and be with him 
 in the last hour of earthly companionship, was seized 
 with sudden illness, and died after a few days, leaving 
 the dying husband, who had thought to have gone long 
 before her. 
 
 Under this sudden and overwhelming grief, with pain 
 as his constant companion, with death always in full 
 view, he bore himself with a steadfastness, a perfect 
 quiet of aspect and manner which showed at once hrs 
 self-command and his self-submission to the orderings 
 of that Providence in which he trusted. His rule in 
 this world had been duty ; his faith in looking forward 
 to the future was simple, untrammelled by mechanical 
 forms or formulae, but having as its inmost principle the 
 love which casteth out fear. 
 
xxii INTRODUCTION. 
 
 How many families there are in this community that 
 feel as if they could hardly live without the counsels of 
 this good, skilful, wise physician, or die in peace with- 
 out having had all his resources called upon to keep 
 them breathing this sweet air of life a little longer! 
 How many will feel that no one will ever read their 
 conditions of mind and body as he did, or give himself 
 up so unreservedly to the exactions of their too fre- 
 quently selfish suffering, or bring into the sick chamber 
 a look so tranquillizing and assuring ! Time will teach 
 them that the art, which is long, does not perish with 
 the fleeting life of its wisest practitioner ; that others, 
 many of them, perhaps, his own former pupils, will 
 deserve and gain their confidence ; that the affections, 
 seeking new objects when the old are torn away, will 
 surely find them ; but to many the best eulogy of the 
 best physician who comes after him will be so long as 
 they live, that he recalls to their memory the skill, 
 the wisdom, the character of Doctor Edward Clarke. 
 
Yisioisrs. 
 
 Visions have always held, and still hold, a 
 place among the experiences of mankind. From 
 the time that Abraham had a vision of angels in 
 his tent, to the latest manifestation of modern 
 spiritualism and spirit seeing ; among all nations, 
 savage, civilized, and enlightened ; in all classes, 
 whether cultivated or ignorant ; and in every 
 phase of human development, orient^ and occi- 
 dental, Pagan, Christian, and Mohammedan, there 
 have been those who saw, or who pretended to 
 see, visions. Visions have not only been recog- 
 nized as a part of the mysterious phenomena of 
 disease, but of the equally mysterious phenomena 
 of health. The hearty and strong, as well as the 
 morbid and ill, have been visited by them. Nec- 
 romancers and charlatans, seers and prophets, en- 
 thusiasts and sober minded people, those who 
 have deluded, and those who have inspired, the 
 race, have, with varying degrees of earnestness 
 and success, supported their claims to reverence 
 or obedience, by the assertion that they could see 
 what was hidden from the eyes of others. 
 
6 VISIONS. 
 
 When we consider that such very different per- 
 sonalities as Elijah and St. Paul, Buddha and Mo- 
 hammed, St. Francis d' Assisi and Swedenborg, 
 Joan of Arc, Luther and Bunyan, Indian Med- 
 icine Men and Oriental Hakems, Convulsionists 
 of St. Medard, inmates of asylums for the insane, 
 invalids, elevated by the ecstasies of hysteria, and 
 persons sunk in articulo mortis, opium and hash- 
 ish eaters, alcohol drinkers, and others, have all 
 seen visions, it seems as if such phenomena must 
 be among the commonest experiences of human- 
 ity, and of a character which ought not to pro- 
 duce amazement or incredulity. But such is not 
 the case. Visions are regarded, and naturally 
 regarded, not only by scientific and thoughtful 
 people, but by the common sense portion of the 
 community, very much like ghosts, as unrealities. 
 A few exceptions may be made in the case of 
 apostles and teachers, but the vast majority of 
 visions are classed among the delusions, vagaries, 
 and fancies of mankind, or among the inexplicable 
 phenomena of disease. Yet it must be admitted, 
 after acknowledging to their fullest extent the 
 obscurity, mystery, and charlatanism which covers 
 up and infects the matter we are considering, that 
 the denial of a substantial and real foundation to 
 the phenomena of visions must be accompanied 
 with a certain reserve. Sometimes the incredu- 
 lity of the most skeptical has been staggered by 
 the statements of those, whose mental soundness 
 and recognized honesty precluded the suspicion of 
 
VISIONS. 7 
 
 deception or insanity; but these exceptional in- 
 stances have usually been summarily disposed of, 
 by remanding them to the region of the myste- 
 rious and unknowable. Now and then, some san- 
 guine or philosophic hearer of such statements has 
 returned a doubtful hope that science would yet 
 penetrate the mystery that enveloped them, and 
 arrive at an adequate solution of them, and per- 
 haps has accompanied his hope with the vague as- 
 sertion that — 
 
 " There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, 
 Than are dreamt of in your philosophy." 
 
 The persistence with which the truthfulness of 
 visions has been aflEirmed, at all times, every- 
 where, and by such a variety of individuals, is it- 
 self a significant fact, and one that deserves con- 
 sideration. It implies that below the nonsense, 
 charlatanism, fanaticism, ignorance, and mystery, 
 uj^on which visions are largely built up, there is 
 somewhere a substratum of truth, if we could 
 only get at it. Such a growth coidd never have 
 appeared, nor would it continue to appear, if its 
 roots did not draw their nutriment from some- 
 thing more invigorating than fancy or deception. 
 It must be admitted, moreover, that the question 
 of the possible occurrence of visions is one of 
 great interest and importance. Its interest lies 
 in its intimate connection with the attractive and 
 shadowy territorj^ — the terra incognita, and de- 
 batable ground — which stretches between the 
 
8 VISIONS. 
 
 body and mind, and which connects this woi'ld 
 "with the next. Its importance lies in the fact 
 that its sohition, if a solution is possible, would 
 not only throw light upon some of the intricate 
 and vexed problems of psychology, but would aid 
 materially in dissipating many popular supersti- 
 tions and widely spread delusions. 
 
 That there have been, and are, many persons 
 who solemnly assert that they have seen visions, 
 as well as dreamed dreams, is acknowledged. 
 The question which it is proposed to investigate 
 here is not whether such assertions are made,' 
 but upon what they are founded. Are visions, 
 whether occurring in the sound or unsound, ex- 
 cluding, of course, necromancy and cheating, pure 
 figments of the imagination, or are they facts, 
 resting upon a physiological basis ; and if the lat- 
 ter, what are the conditions, .and what is the 
 mechanism of their production ? If any satisfac- 
 tory answer to these inquiries can be given, it 
 must be obtained, not from psychology or theol- 
 ogy, but from physiology and pathology ; not 
 from metaphysicians or priests, but from physi- 
 cians and physiologists. Approaching the subject 
 upon its physiological side, and supplementing 
 physiological investigation by clinical observa- 
 tion, it is possible to clear away some of the ob- 
 scurity which covers it, and to pick out a few 
 grains of wheat from the mass of surrounding 
 chaff. Fortunately, recent discoveries in physiol- 
 ogy are of a character to throw a partial, if not 
 
VISIONS. 9 
 
 a full, light upon these and similar problems, and 
 to give reasonable assurance of a complete solu- 
 tion at some future period. 
 
 It is unnecessary and unwise to complicate our 
 present inquiry with any discussion of the differ- 
 ence or identity of mind and matter. Whether 
 mind is a product of matter, and so material, or an 
 entity distinct from matter, it is admitted by all 
 that it is manifested, so far as we know it, or can 
 know it, in this world, only by and through mat- 
 ter. The materialist and immaterialist are so far 
 agreed. Obviously, then, the rational method of 
 studying psychological phenomena is a physiolog- 
 ical one. The brain being an organ of the mind, 
 knowledge of it is an indispensable prerequisite 
 to a comprehension of the latter ; ^ consequently, 
 visions which are mental or subjective phenom- 
 ena, must be conditioned, if they occur at all, as 
 intellection is, by the brain through which they 
 are displayed. They can appear only under def- 
 inite modifications of the circulation, nutrition, 
 and metamorphoses of the intracranial apparatus. 
 The states of the brain, therefore, which permit, 
 accompany, and modify visions, and not the re- 
 ports of consciousness, should be investigated, 
 in order to arrive at any intelligent notion of 
 
 ^ Admitting that the conception of spirit or mind, as abso- 
 lutely independent of matter, is unthinkable, I cannot regard 
 them as identical. It is not from any unwillingness to affirm 
 my belief in an ego, that there is an apparent doubt in these 
 statements, but from a desire to avoid the introduction of side 
 issues. 
 
10 VISIONS. 
 
 such singular occurrences. A knowledge of these 
 states, that is, an acquaintance with the physiolog- 
 ical conditions and mechanism of visions, would 
 go a great way towards discovering the true char- 
 acter of the latter. 
 
 With the hope of contributing something to 
 our knowledge of the natural history of visions, 
 the following essay has been prepared. It is 
 founded upon a series of cases, of which the ma- 
 jority occurred under the writer's observation. 
 The subjects of these visions were all persons of 
 more than ordinary intelligence and cultivation. 
 It is possible, perhaps j)robable, that this fact had 
 a more intimate connection than that of mere 
 coincidence with the visions reported. The de- 
 velopment of the nervous system, and especially 
 of the cerebral portion of the nervous system, 
 which attends cultivation and intellectual power, 
 is more likely than tbe intellectual development, 
 which is permitted by brains of coarser fibre 
 and quality, to afford an opportunity for the dis- 
 play of extraordinary nervous phenomena. It will 
 also be noticed, that all the individuals, whose 
 cases are here presented, were themselves con- 
 scious of the subjective character of their visions. 
 Indeed, all other cases were purposely excluded. 
 The conditions of hallucination, illusion, and delu- 
 sion can be more easily and satisfactorily studied 
 in persons who recognize the unreality of what 
 besets them, than in those who entertain an op- 
 posite conviction. 
 
 
VISIONS. 11 
 
 Before going furtlier, it is important to be sure 
 that a definite and precise signification is attached 
 to the principal terms we are to use, or at least to 
 the one by which the subject we are to investigate 
 is designated. Accuracy and clearness of state- 
 ment are essential to accuracy and clearness of 
 ideas. Unfortunately, the terms which have just 
 been mentioned, hallucination, illusion, and delu- 
 sion, are vaguely employed, and often confounded 
 with each other. They have not acquired definite 
 and distinct significations ; at least, not to such a 
 degree that any one of them brings before the 
 mind a peculiar and individual condition or no- 
 tion, to the exclusion of the others. They are 
 often used as if they were synonymous, and as if 
 the conditions of the nervous system which they 
 indicate were similar, or the same. This confu- 
 sion undoubtedly arises from the uncertainty and 
 inaccuracy which has existed, till recently, of 
 our knowledge of their causes and character. 
 Webster defines delusion, to be " false represen- 
 tation .... illusion ; " illusion to be " decep- 
 tive appearance .... false show ; " and hallu- 
 cination to be " delusion, faulty sense, erroneous 
 imagination." According to Worcester, delusion 
 is " a false belief .... illusion ; " illusion is 
 " deception, as of the sight, mind, or imagination 
 .... delusion ; " and ^hallucination is " a moi'- 
 bid error in one or more of the senses .... de- 
 lirium .... delusion." Evidently, both of these 
 lexicographers regard the above terms as nearly 
 
19. VISIONS. 
 
 synonymous. Their definitions would lead an 
 inquirer to suppose that delusion, illusion, and 
 hallucination, instead of being different and dis- 
 tinct physiological conditions, were almost identi- 
 cal affections. Dr. William A. Hammon d, who 
 is aware of the existing confusion of ideas and 
 language on this subject, has endeavored to get 
 rid of it by careful definitions. He defines ^ Illu- 
 sion to be " a false perception of a real sensorial 
 impression. Thus a person, seeing a ball roll 
 over the floor, and imagining it to be>^ mouse, 
 has an illusion of the sense of sight." Vjlallucina- 
 tion he defines to-be "a false perception, without 
 any material basis, and is centric in its origin. 
 "It is more, therefore, than an erroneous interpre- 
 tation of a real object, for it is entirely formed by 
 the mind/l Delusion, according to the same au- 
 thor, is " a false belief." (^n individual, who has 
 an illusion or hallucination, and is sensible that 
 they are not realities, is not deluded ; one who 
 accepts them as facts is deluded. These distinc- 
 tions are just and importaji^ They are founded 
 on the existence of three distinct classes of false 
 perceptions, which have been discovered by physi- 
 ological and clinical observation : viz. one of sub- 
 jective, or as Dr. Hammond designates them, 
 i'entric perceptions, which are produced solely by 
 cerebral action, and are recognized as false by the 
 subjects of them ; a second class of objective, or 
 
 1 Diseases of the Nervous System, by William A. Hammond, M. 
 D., 6thed., pp. 320, 321. 
 
VISIONS. 13 
 
 eccentric false perceptions, which are recognized 
 as false by the subjects of them, and are produced 
 by external objects, acting on the visual appara- 
 tus, ah-extra, that is, playing upon the individaal 
 from without, and hence the term illusion, from in 
 and ludo, to play upon ; and a third class of false 
 perceptions, which may be subjective or objective, 
 or both together, in the reality of which the in- 
 dividual believes, and so is deluded by them ; 
 hence delusion, from de and ludo, to be played 
 upon from within, or mocked by the brain. 
 
 Nothwithstanding the justness of these distinc- 
 tions, it is difficult to keep them well in mind, and 
 use the old names. Hallucination, illusion, and 
 delusion, as the above citations from Webster and 
 Worcester show, are so closely allied, in their or- 
 dinary acceptation, that one not only suggests the 
 others, but is often confounded with them, or is 
 substituted for them. It would avoid ambiguity 
 of language, and confusion of thought, to discard 
 them altogether, at least, from scientific treatises, 
 and employ new ones, if such could be found, 
 which would describe, more accurately than these, 
 the conditions they are intended to designate, 
 and with which no preconceived notions are as- 
 sociated. 
 
 With the hope of attaining this object, the fol- 
 lowing terms are proposed, and will be used in 
 the present essay. The normal process of vision 
 may be appropriately called Orthopia, from op^o's 
 and ojrTOjxai ; and false perception, or vision, Pseu- 
 
14 VISIONS. 
 
 dopia, from i/'tvSos and oTrro/xat. According to this 
 nomenclature, false perception, arising from the 
 action of the intracranial vis.ual apparatus, would 
 be called subjective or centric pseudopia ; that 
 arising from disturbance of the eye alone, oph- 
 thalmic pseudopia ; and that produced by the 
 presence of extei-nal objects, objective or eccen- 
 tric pseudopia. An individual, conscious of the er- 
 ror in his perceptions, would have conscious pseu- 
 dopia ; otherwise, unconscious pseudopia. One 
 advantage of these terms over the common ones 
 of hallucination, illusion, and delusion, is that 
 they indicate the precise part of the visual ap- 
 paratus, whose structural or functional disturbance 
 causes the false perceptions. Conscious centric 
 (or subjective) pseudopia ; unconscious centric 
 (or subjective) pseudopia; conscious eccentric (or 
 objective) pseudopia ; unconscious eccentric (or 
 objective) pseudopia ; conscious retinal pseudo- 
 pia ; unconscious retinal pseudopia, etc., etc. ; all 
 indicate, wibh tolerable precision, the part from 
 which visual derangement proceeds, and, to some 
 extent, the character of the derangement. An- 
 other and no slight advantage is, that no tradi- 
 tional or preconceived notions are associated with 
 these terms. 
 
 The following cases form an appropriate intro- 
 duction to a discussion of the physiological and 
 pathological conditions of pseudopia, and they il- 
 lustrate most of the important points to which ref- 
 erence will afterwards be made. The first case 
 
VISIONS. 15 
 
 is one of conscious centric or subjective pseu- 
 dopia, occurring in the course of delirium tremens, 
 or rather during convalescence from that malady. 
 Subjective sight-seeing is not an unusual event in 
 that affection, but it is not of less physiological 
 importance, because it is familiar. 
 
 CASE I. 
 
 Conscious centric or subjective pseudopia in a man of middle 
 age, resulting from the action of alcohol on the brain. 
 
 Mr. C, a man of excellent natural abilities 
 and liberal education, unfortunately became ad- 
 dicted to the excessive use of alcoholic drinks. 
 This led to the common results of intemper- 
 ance, such as gastric derangement, nervous pros- 
 tration, insomnia, and, at length, to attacks of 
 delirium tremens. The latter never assumed a 
 violent type, though they were sufficiently char- 
 acteristic. The explanation of their mildness is 
 probably to be found in the fact, that he did not 
 live long enough for their more complete devel- 
 opment. He died in middle life, before the age of 
 forty, or somewhere about that time. The de- 
 lirium which he exhibited was of the usual whim- 
 p^'cal and incoherent character. When it attacked 
 him, his attendants and the furniture in his room 
 would assume strange and distorted forms, and he 
 would see, moving and flitting about his chamber, 
 all sorts of creeping and crawling things, hideous 
 shapes, hobgoblins, griffins, and unearthly and in- 
 
16 VISIONS. 
 
 describable apparitions, such as are common to 
 the delirium of this malady. On one occasion, 
 when he was so far convalescent from an attack 
 as to have slept the night previous to my visit, I 
 asked him if sleep had driven off all his spectres 
 and unearthly companions. He replied that all 
 were gone but one, and that one was a large black 
 dog, which still haunted him. 
 
 " Where is he?" I inquired. 
 
 " There," he said, pointing across the room, 
 " standing on the bureau, under the mirror." 
 
 I went to the spot, and putting my hand upon 
 the centre of the bureau, asked, " Do I now touch 
 the dog?" 
 
 "No;" was the answer, "he has moved aside 
 to the right." 
 
 Carrying my hand to the right, " Where is he 
 now ? " I continued. 
 
 " Jumped down upon the floor," said the patient. 
 
 I did not attempt to pursue the animal farther, 
 and he soon vanished. Mr. C. talked intelligently 
 about his spectres. Generally, he said he could 
 recognize their character as subjective phenomena, 
 but sometimes he found it a very difficult thing to 
 do so. For instance, he stated that his wife once 
 assumed, in his delirium, the appearance of a 
 burglar or a thief, when she entered his apart- 
 ment, and it was with extreme difficulty that he 
 restrained himself from knocking her down. A 
 sort of vague and shadowy doubt as to his own 
 condition and the correctness of his judgment, 
 
VISIONS. 17 
 
 alone prevented him from inflicting violence upon 
 her. The seeing, or rather the perception, of the 
 animals, spirits, and other beings, of his subjective 
 menagerie, was nearly, and sometimes quite as 
 distinct as that of real objects when he was well. 
 
 The chief peculiarity of this case is the persist- 
 ence of the apparition of the black dog, united 
 with the distinctness with which the animal was 
 seen. The. spectres of delirium tremens are, un- 
 fortunately, only too often brought to the notice 
 of medical men ; but it is not often that the pa- 
 tient, who is tormented by the vagaries of his 
 brain, is able to recognize aaid describe the char- 
 acter of his visions as clearly as Mr. C. did. 
 
 It is well known that alcohol is not the only 
 agent which can make men and women see with- 
 out eyes, and hear without ears. Opium, ether, 
 Indian hemp, belladonna, and their congeners 
 possess a similar power ; but in what their power -^ 
 resides is not comprehended any better than is 
 the cerebral mechanism by which such effects are 
 produced. 
 
 My personal experience of the vision-producing 
 power of opium is so slight, that it scarcely de- 
 serves to be reported ; but inasmuch as it illus- 
 trates, as far as it goes, the subject of the present 
 paper, it may not be inapprqpriate to record it. 
 Among the most vivid recollections of my child- 
 hood are those of visions, which followed the ad- 
 ministration of paregoric or of some other form 
 of opium, a drug which was occasionally given 
 
18 VISIONS. 
 
 me, especially during the season of green fruits, 
 when colic and similar troubles are apt to occur. 
 Soon after taking the narcotic, strange sights and 
 grotesque forms of all sorts of known and un- 
 known animals, among which horses predomi- 
 nated, sometimes in groups and sometimes singly, 
 some with bodies and no heads, and some with 
 heads and no bodies, some in full harness and 
 some without bridle or saddle, and as wild as 
 Mazeppa's steed, would fill my room, swarm 
 about my bed, and run around and over my per- 
 son. They made no noise, and never excited my 
 fears. At first, I marvelled where they came 
 irom ; but I soon learned to associate them with 
 opium, and enjoyed the spectacle, instead of 
 dreading it, to such an extent, that I looked for- 
 ward to a dose of opium with pleasure, and re- 
 garded the amusement which it afforded me as 
 some compensation for a sharp stomach ache. 
 The spectres were distinct, spirited, and life like. 
 They were most clearly visible and most natural 
 when my eyes were closed, and would disappear 
 rapidly upon opening my eyelids. I often tried 
 to summon them, after taking opium, with my 
 eyes open, but then the spectre animals would 
 not come. As soon as the soporific action man- 
 ifested itself, they vanished, sometimes suddenly 
 and sometimes with a lingering step, as if loath 
 to go. The duration of their stay probably coin- 
 cided with the primary stimulant action of the 
 drug, for they rarely remained near me more 
 
VISIONS. 19 
 
 than a quarter of an hour or thereabouts. With 
 the approach of adult life, this peculiar action of 
 oj)ium almost entirely ceased. Whenever, of late 
 years, I have had occasion to take opium, I have 
 watched for the coming of the old familiar spec- 
 tres, but have only caught glimpses of them. 
 Now and then, after taking twenty or thirty 
 drops of laudanum, I have seen a horse's head, 
 with ears erect, peering at me through the dark- 
 ness, just enough to remind me of childhood's lost 
 visions, and that was all. This experience is prob- 
 ably not an unusual one ; and if not, it illustrates 
 only more fully, than if it were, the fact that 
 the machinery of cerebral vision may be easily 
 set agoing in a large number of persons, if we 
 know how to touch its secret springs, without 
 any objective stimulus. Herein may possibly be 
 found an explanation of the visions of the enthu- 
 siasts and seers of all nations and ages, as well as 
 of those of modern spiritualism, whenever the 
 latter are not the result of sleight of hand, or 
 other deception. 
 
 The next case is an instance of conscious cen- 
 tric or subjective pseudopia, which manifested it- 
 self during the course of an epilepsy. It occurred 
 under the observation of Dr. S. G. Webber, of 
 Boston, to whose courtesy I am indebted for the 
 opportunity of presenting it here. Sounds, flashes 
 of light, and vague, shadowy, and momentary vis- 
 ions, such as are described in this case, are not y 
 
20 VISIONS. 
 
 uncommon antecedents or consequents of an epi- 
 leptic seizure. Little attention is usually paid to 
 them by practitioners, though they are undoubt- 
 edly connected with the grave cerebral disturb- 
 ances which provoke epilepsy. At present, how- 
 ever, we are concerned with them only as illus- 
 trations of our subject. 
 
 CASE 11. 
 
 Mr. G. an intelligent young man, came under 
 the observation of Dr. Webber, in April, 1870, in 
 consequence of a visitation of epilepsy. He had 
 been suffering from the disease for four years pre- 
 viously. He had both the grand mal, with loss of 
 consciousness, and the petit mal. " In the fall of 
 1873," according to the report of Dr. Webber, " a 
 new feature was observed in the nature of the at- 
 tacks of petit mal. After lying down, and hence 
 most frequently during the night, or early in the 
 morning, he had visionary attacks, which he spoke 
 of as a sort of double consciousness. While know- 
 ing that he was in bed, he yet seemed to see ob- 
 jects out of doors. In the first attack, he saw a 
 man on horseback, riding helter skelter over the 
 flower beds in the garden, and the flowers seemed 
 to be artificial, made of paper. During these 'at- 
 tacks, he has not always seen the same objects ; 
 on one occasion, he saw a river of water, flow- 
 ing along quietly, filled with the heads of seals ; 
 these changed to soldiers, marching down a street. 
 
VISIONS. 21 
 
 Twice, the attack is mentioned as occurring dur- 
 ing the day, while lying down for a nap. Once, 
 thousands of men leaped up over a stone wall, 
 near which he thought he stood ; also animals 
 were seen in immense numbers, going across a 
 marsh, keeping abreast for about a quarter of a 
 mile ; then the whole quickly faded from view. 
 These are examples which he gave of the attacks. 
 It was rather more common to have a large num- 
 ber of objects appear than solitary individuals. 
 
 This is an instance of distinct conscious centric 
 pseudopia. The cerebral disturbance which pro- 
 duced it was undoubtedly the result, or a pai't of 
 the condition, of the nerve centres, which was the 
 cause of the patient's epilepsy. The support 
 which this case lends to the doctrine, now gener- 
 ally accepted, that all portions of the gray matter 
 of the hemispheres are in communication with 
 each other, and capable, when sufficiently excited, 
 of calling forth each other's activity, will be al- 
 luded to in another place. 
 
 The visions, which are next described, are very 
 different in their character, of longer duration, 
 and apparently less intimately associated with 
 grave disease of the nerve centres, than those 
 which have just been reported. 
 
22 VISIONS. 
 
 CASE III. 
 
 Conscious centric or siihjeclive pseudopia in a married 
 ivonian, apparendy connected iviih some febrile derange- 
 ment of the systein. 
 
 The subject of this case, Mrs. B., is a lady 
 nearly thirty years of age. She is the mother of 
 several children, and though of a delicate organi- 
 zation, enjoj^s a fair degree of general health. She 
 is of a nervous temperament, which she keejjs 
 under excellent management, but which renders 
 her susceptible to many influences that others 
 would feel very slightl}^, or not at all. She is in- 
 telligent and accomplished ; and if her early edu- 
 cation aided the development of her congenital 
 nervous tendencies, it also aided her to acquire 
 the mental strength by which to control them. 
 The visions, as she calls the phenomena, which 
 she sometimes witnesses, and which she has often 
 described to me, are usually the forerunner or at- 
 tendant of some sort of febrile attack, hke a cold, 
 or simple fever, or gastric derangement ; and they 
 disappear when the attack is fully developed. She 
 has learned to recognize them as purely subjective 
 phenomena, altogether independent of any objec- 
 tive reality, and now regards them as symptomatic 
 of some physical derangement like those which 
 have been just mentioned. When a child, she had 
 the misfortune to lose her mother by drowning, 
 and saw the corpse at a time, and under circum- 
 stances, that affected her even more profoundly 
 
VISIONS. 23 
 
 than such a terrible occurrence would be sure to 
 do, under any circumstances. She never saw vis- 
 ions till after this happened ; and it is her belief 
 that they are in some way connected with it, in 
 the relation of cause and effect, though how she 
 cannot tell. 
 
 The hallucination to which she is subject takes 
 the form of a female figure, which commonly ap- 
 pears suddenly, and without warning. The fig- 
 ure is of natural size, dressed in white, sometimes 
 wearing a blue ribbon, sometimes without any- 
 thing of the sort, ii.nd frequently but not always 
 carries its face averted. The form and the face 
 are always the same, and are those of a stranger, 
 not of an acquaintance. It comes unbidden, at 
 any time of day or night, and is as liable to show 
 itself in other places as in Mrs. B.'s own house. 
 When it appears, it assumes various postures ; 
 sometimes sitting, sometimes standing, and some- 
 times walking. On one occasion she was going 
 to dine out. On her way to the dinner, she felt 
 an uncomfortable sensation in her head, like a 
 coming headache, but was otherwise in fair con- 
 dition. She did not renounce the dinner, but as 
 she approached the table with the other guests, 
 and was about to take the place selected for her, 
 she noticed that the chair, appropriated to her, 
 was already occupied. For a moment she had no 
 doubt that a form of flesh and blood filled it, and 
 was about to ask the hostess for another place, 
 when she recognized her familiar spirit, which had 
 
24 VISIONS. 
 
 assumed such natural proportions and color as to 
 deceive even herself. She thrust her fan into the 
 spectre, so as to be sure it was an airy nothing, 
 and then sat down. The figure moved aside and 
 vanished. On another occasion, she sent for me 
 professionally, because, though she felt pretty well, 
 the spectre had made its appearance that morn- 
 ing, and she was consequently sure that she would 
 soon be ill. I found her with a pulse moderately 
 accelerated, and with other symptoms of slight 
 febrile disturbance, all of which disappeared under 
 appropriate management, and with their disappear- 
 ance the spectre departed also. She has learned 
 by experience and observation to recognize the 
 character of her strange visitor, and rightly regards 
 the hallucination as 
 
 " A false creation, 
 Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain," 
 
 and is not disturbed by it. There are times 
 when it presents only a vague and indistinct out- 
 line, like a shadow. At other times, its form, 
 size, and appearance are so life-like and real, as 
 to make its resemblance to a human being per- 
 fect ; indeed, so exact has the counterfeit some- 
 times been, that Mrs. B. could only ascertain its 
 unreality, by the experiment of trying to touch 
 it. It will sometimes take a chair, and sit near 
 where she is reading, or at work, or by her 
 bed, by the half hour or hour together, and then 
 vanish as suddenly, and with as little apparent 
 
VISIONS. 25 
 
 cause as it came. It should be added, that, 
 notwithstanding long familiarity with it and its 
 freaks, she confesses to a feeling of relief at its 
 departure. 
 
 The striking peculiarity of this case is the close 
 similarity, amounting to identity, of the subjec- 
 tive perception, produced by cerebral action alone, 
 without any external stimulus or object, with 
 that produced in the ordinary way by the rays of 
 light from an external object, falling upon the 
 retina. The cerebral condition or process, which 
 was here induced by febrile or other disturbance, 
 was so exactly like that produced by the move- 
 ment of light from a female iigure, entering th^ 
 eye and thence sending a motion along the nerves 
 to the gray matter of the anterior lobes of the 
 brain, that the objective unreality could not be rec- 
 ognized. In fact, under such circumstances, the 
 brain is incompetent to discriminate between true 
 and false perceptions, and can make the discrimi- 
 nation only by using its other senses as means of 
 correction or corroboration. This Mrs. B. had 
 learned to do, and when in doubt, she employed 
 the sense of touch to supplement and correct that 
 of sight. Another peculiarity is the ease and cer- 
 tainty with which she recognized the subjective 
 character of the apparition. Few persons have 
 ever been similarly affected, and few of those who 
 have been have possessed the intelligence and 
 temperament which enabled them to form a cor- 
 rect notion of such singular phenomena. 
 
26 VISIONS. 
 
 The next case differs from the preceding one 
 in the variety of the visions desci'ibed, and in the 
 greater care with which they were observed by 
 the subject of them. No ghosts or incorporeal 
 visitants have ever put on a greater semblance of 
 reality than these visual appearances. 
 
 CASE IV. 
 
 Conscious centric or subjective pseudopia, occurring in an 
 unmarried woman; appearance of female figures, men, 
 animals, and other forms. 
 
 The subject of this case is a lady of middle 
 age, who has long been an invalid. She has 
 suffered most in her nervous system, though other 
 parts of lier organization have also been more or 
 less affected. It should be added that her natural 
 abilities and acquirements are of a high order, as 
 the following description from her own pen of the 
 hallucinations that at times beset her testifies. 
 She learned very early to think for herself, and 
 perhaps this is the reason why sbe recognized, so 
 soon and so clearly as she did, the subjective 
 character of her visions. She prepared the fol- 
 lowing description of her case at my request, and 
 has kindly permitted me to use it, a favor which 
 the reader will fully appreciate : — 
 
 " My earliest recollections are of a life made 
 miserable by the daily companionship of a crowd 
 of dreadful beings, visible, I know, only to myself. 
 Like Madame de Stael, I did not believe in ghosts, 
 
VISIONS. 27 
 
 but feared them mortally. When I was about 
 fifteen, we went to Europe for two years, and the 
 change of scene, and of constant external interest, 
 broke up my invisible world, and I have only en- 
 tered it since in times of excitement or great fa- 
 tigue. Of late years the most distinct visions have 
 appeared only when sharp mental pain or anxiety 
 has been added to bodily exhaustion. My sense 
 of hearing has never deceived me, except that 
 during my girlhood, in frequent nervous states of 
 mind, all sounds would strike my ears discontin- 
 uously, that is, with a time-beat as sharp and 
 rhythmical as the movement of the bRton by an 
 orchestral conductor. 
 
 " Several years ago one of my sisters was taken 
 ill with typhoid fever. I was not strong enough 
 to be of any assistance in her chamber, so I under- 
 took to finish some work which she had com- 
 menced, and became daily more and more worn 
 out in my endeavors to carry it on. Anxiety, 
 added to fatigue, finally brought back the old 
 visions, which had not troubled me continuously 
 for some years. Animals of all kinds, men, 
 women, glaring-eyed giants, passed before or 
 around me, until I often felt as though I were 
 surrounded by a circle of magic lanterns, and 
 would sometimes place the back of my chair 
 against a wall, that at least my ghosts should not 
 keep me constantly turning, as they passed be- 
 hind me. One evening, feeling too tired to sit 
 up for the latest report of my sister, which my 
 
28 VISIONS. 
 
 mother brought me regularly, I went to bed, 
 leaving ray door wide open, so that the gas, from 
 the adjoining entry, sent a stream of light across 
 one half of my little chamber, leaving the rest 
 somewhat in shadow. Soon I saw my mother 
 walk slowly into the room, and stop at the foot 
 of the bed. I remember feeling surprised that I 
 had not heard her footstep, as she came through 
 the passage. ' Well ? ' I said, inquiringly. No 
 answer, but she took, slowly, two or three steps 
 towards the side of the bed, and stopped again. 
 ' What is the matter ? ' I exclaimed. Still no 
 reply ; but again she moved slowly towards me. 
 Thoroughly frightened by this ominous silence, I 
 sprang up in bed, saying, ' Why don''t you speak 
 to me ? ' Until then her back had been turned to 
 the door, but as I last spoke she turned, almost 
 touching my arm, and the light falling on her 
 face, showed me an entire stranger. She had 
 heavy dark hair, and her face, quite young, was 
 pale, and though calm, very sad. Over her 
 shoulders was a child's woollen shawl, of a small 
 plaid not familiar to me, which she drew closely 
 about her, as though she were cold. Her right 
 hand, which pressed the shawl against her side, 
 was very white, and I was struck by the great 
 beauty of its shape. The thought passed through 
 my mind, ' Can she be a friend of the nurse ? But 
 tvht/ has she been sent so mysteriously to me ? ' 
 As I stared at her in speechless amazement, she 
 fell to the floor. I instantly stooped over the side 
 
VISIONS. 29 
 
 of the bed. To my consternation there was noth- 
 ing to be seen ! Accustomed as I was to ghosts, 
 if there had been anything in the least shadowy 
 about my visitor, I should have suspected her 
 tangibility ; but so well defined was she, so vividly 
 was her reality impressed upon me, that I could 
 not believe that she had vanished. I looked into 
 every corner, and glanced under the bed ; it 
 seemed even more credible, for a moment, that 
 the floor had opened, than that my visitor had 
 been less flesh and blood than I. 
 
 " I think that my ghost stories cannot be suffi- 
 ciently remai'kable to make you wish for any 
 other than tliis, but if you lack illustration of any 
 special point you wish to urge, I could probably 
 supply you with any style of ghost or goblin 
 that you may need. It occurs to me that the re- 
 markable cases of nervous disturbance which you 
 have related to me have all occurred in the even- 
 ing, as did the incident which I have just de- 
 scribed. This visitor stayed with me longer than 
 any other of her kind that I have ever received ; 
 but usually the visions seen by sunlight have 
 been the most distinct and deceptive, and have 
 haunted me the most persistently. It was in 
 the daytime, too, that I walked beside my own 
 double ; and on one bright afternoon, that I lost 
 my way, in a country town as familiar to me as 
 was Cambridge to your college friend. Luckily, 
 I was driving, and not too much frightened to re- 
 member that my horse had not lost his wits also. 
 
30 VISIONS. 
 
 I loosened the reins, and he brought me out 
 safely from a very awkward dilemma." 
 
 The previous case presents several interesting 
 points. First, the early age at which the hallu- 
 cinations began is worthy of notice. Their early 
 appearance indicates, probably, some congenital 
 cerebral condition, which favored their manifesta- 
 tion. If such be the fact, it raises a question as 
 to how far the brain, in childhood, is more sus- 
 ceptible than in adult life, to subjective impres- 
 sions, and consequent hallucination and delusion. 
 The screaming, and strange terrors, and fright- 
 ened looks and actions, which some children ex- 
 hibit, when there is no apparent cause for terror 
 or alarm, may sometimes result from cerebral 
 processes, which surround them with invisible ob- 
 jects of horror and distress. The terrors of such 
 unfortunate children deserve the considerate treat- 
 ment of practitioners, and the wise and tender 
 watchfulness of parents, instead of ridicule and 
 punishment. Secondly, another noteworthy cir- 
 cumstance is, that the visions of Miss D.'s adult 
 life appeared only when mental pain or anxiety, 
 added to bodily exhaustion, had prepared the way 
 for them ; a hint, that brain fatigue and bodily 
 exhaustion favor the cerebral processes, or supply 
 the cerebral conditions of subjective sight and 
 hearing. A third point of interest is the close 
 similarity of what, for want of a better expres- 
 sion, may be called her subjective visions to her 
 
VISIONS. 31 
 
 objective sight. The important influences which 
 flow from this will be mentioned elsewhere. A 
 fourth point of great physiological interest, and 
 one which her own observation led her to empha- 
 size, is, that her visions, instead of being, as such 
 visions usually are, shadowy and doubtful by day- 
 light, wei'e most distinct and deceptive in a clear 
 and bright light. Her brain did not require 
 shadows, twilight, and darkness, for the produc- 
 tion of hallucinations. This is evidence, to a cer- 
 tain extent, that the cerebral processes by which 
 vision is produced may not only be started in the 
 brain itself, but that, when so started, they are 
 identical with those set agoing by an objective 
 stimulus in the ordinary way. 
 
 The visions of Nicolai of Berlin have been re- 
 ferred to, and quoted by psychologists and phys- 
 iologists, for neai'ly a hundred years. Their in- 
 trinsic importance, as psychological phenomena, 
 is enhanced by the fact, that he was himself the 
 subject of them, and that, being a man of careful 
 observation and scientific attainments, he atten- 
 tively watched their various phases as they oc- 
 curred in his own person, endeavored to trace the 
 connection between them and his own physical 
 condition, and himself recorded the result of his 
 observations. His visions were, moreover, re- 
 markable for presenting simultaneously false per- 
 ceptions of sight and sound. He not only saw 
 human beings, but heard them speak. He had, 
 
32 VISIONS. 
 
 therefore, pseudotia (i/'eCSos and ous), as well as 
 pseudopia. The rational view which he took of 
 his visions, and his hypothetical explanation of 
 them, show him to have been a person consider- 
 ably in advance of the age in which he lived. 
 They are such admirable illustrations of our sub- 
 ject, that his account of them is quoted in full. 
 
 CASE V. 
 
 Conscious centric or subjective pseudopia and pseudotia in a 
 man past middle life ; record of the visions, made hij the 
 subject of themA 
 
 " In the first two months of the year 1791, I 
 was much affected in my mind by several inci- 
 dents of a very disagreeable nature ; and on the 
 24th of February a circumstance occurred which 
 irritated me extremely. • At ten o'clock in the 
 forenoon my wife and another person came to 
 console me ; I was in a violent perturbation of 
 mind, owing to a series of incidents which had 
 altogether wounded my moral feelings, and from 
 which I saw no possibility of relief ; when sud- 
 denly I observed at the distance of ten paces from 
 me a figure, — the figure of a deceased person. 
 I pointed at it, and asked my wife whether she 
 did not see it. She saw nothing, but being much 
 alarmed, endeavored to compose me, and sent for 
 the physician. The figure remained some seven 
 
 ^ A Journal of Natural Philosophy, Chemistry, and the Arts, by 
 William Nicholson, vol. vi., pp. 166, etc. London, 1803. 
 
VISIONS. 33 
 
 or eight minutes, and at length I became a little 
 more calm ; and as I was extremely exhausted, I 
 soon afterwards fell into a troubled kind of slum- 
 ber, which lasted for half an hour. The vision 
 was ascribed to the great agitation of mind in 
 which I had been, and it was supposed I should 
 have nothing more to apprehend from that cause ; 
 but the violent affection had put my nerves into 
 some unnatural state ; from this arose further 
 consequences, which require a more detailed de- 
 scription. 
 
 " In the afternoon, a little after four o'clock, 
 the figure which I had seen in the morning again 
 appeared. I was alone when this happened ; a 
 circumstance which, as may be easily conceived, 
 could not be very agreeable. I went, therefore, 
 to the apartment of my wife, to whom I related 
 it. But thither also the figure pursued me. 
 Sometimes it was present, sometimes it vanished, 
 but it was always the same standing figure. A 
 little after six o'clock several stalking figures also 
 appeared ; but they had no connection with the 
 standing figure. I can assign no other reason for 
 this apparition than that, though much more com- 
 posed in my mind, I had not been able so soon 
 entirely to forget the cause of such deep and dis- 
 tressing vexation, and had reflected on the conse- 
 quences of it, in order, if possible, to avoid them ; 
 and that this happened three hours after dinner, 
 at the time when digestion just begins. 
 
 " At length I became more composed with re- 
 
84 VISIONS. 
 
 spect to the disagreeable incident which had given 
 rise to the first apparition ; but though I had 
 used ver}'- excellent medicines, and found myself 
 in other respects perfectly well, yet the aj^pari- 
 tions did not diminish, but on the contrary rather 
 increased in number, and were transformed in the 
 most extraordinary manner. 
 
 " After I had recovered from the first impres- 
 sion of terror, I never felt myself particularly 
 agitated by these apparitions, as I considered 
 them to be, what they really were, the extraor- 
 dinary consequences of indisposition ; on the con- 
 trary, I endeavored as much as possible to preserve 
 my composure of mind, that I might remain dis- 
 tinctly conscious of what passed within me. I 
 observed these phantoms with great accuracy, 
 and very often reflected on my previous thoughts, 
 with a view to discover some law in the associ- 
 ation of ideas, by which exactly these or other 
 figures might present themselves to the imagina- 
 tion 
 
 " The figure of the deceased person never ap- 
 peared to me after the first dreadful day ; but 
 several other figures showed themselves after- 
 wards very distinctly ; sometimes such as I knew ; 
 mostly, however, of persons I did not know, and 
 amongst those known to me were the semblances 
 of both living and deceased persons, but mostly 
 the former ; and I made the observation that ac- 
 quaintance with whom I daily conversed never ap- 
 peared to me as phantasms ; it was always such 
 
VTSIONS. 35 
 
 as were at a distance. When these apparitions 
 had continued some weeks, and I could regard 
 them with the greatest composure, I afterwards 
 endeavored, at my own pleasure, to call forth 
 phantoms of several acquaintances, whom I for 
 that reason represented to ray imagination in 
 the most lively manner, but in vain. For, how- 
 ever accurately I pictured to my mind the figures 
 of such persons, I never once could succeed in 
 my desire of seeing them externally ; though I 
 had some short time before seen them as phan- 
 toms, and they had perhaps afterwards unex- 
 pectedly presented themselves to me in the same 
 manner. The phantasms appeared to me in every 
 case involuntarily, as if they had been presented 
 externally, like the phenomena in natui-e, though 
 they certainly had their origin internally ; and at 
 the same time I was always able to distinguish 
 with the greatest precision phantasms from phe- 
 nomena. Indeed, I never once erred in this, as 
 I was in general perfectly calm and self-collected 
 on the occasion. I knew extremely well, when it 
 only appeai'ed to me that the door was opened 
 and a phantom entered, and when the door really 
 was opened and any person came in. 
 
 " It is also to be noted, that these figures ap- 
 peared to me at all times, and under the most 
 diffei'ent circumstances, equally distinct and clear, 
 whether I was alone or in company, by broad day- 
 light equally as in the night-time, in my own as 
 well as in my neighbor's house ; yet when I was at 
 
36 VISIONS. 
 
 another person's house, they were less frequent, 
 and when I walked the public street they very 
 seldom appeared. When I shut my eyes some- 
 times the figures disappeared, sometimes they re- 
 mained even after I had closed them. If they 
 vanished in the former case, on opening my eyes 
 again, nearly the same figures appeared which I 
 had seen before. 
 
 " I sometimes conversed with my physician and 
 my wife, concerning the phantasms which at the 
 time hovered around me ; for in general the forms 
 appeared oftener in motion than at rest. They 
 did not always continue present ; they frequently 
 left me altogether, and again appeared for a short 
 or longer space of time, singly or more at once ; 
 but,- in general, several appeared together. For 
 the most part I saw human figures of both sexes ; 
 they commonly passed to and fro as if they had 
 no connection with each other, like people at a 
 fair where all is bustle ; sometimes they appeared 
 to have business with one another. Once or twice 
 I saw amongst them persons on horseback, and 
 dogs and birds ; these figures all appeared to me 
 in their natural size, as distinctly as if they had 
 existed in real life, with the several tints on the 
 uncovered parts of the body, and with all the dif- 
 ferent kinds and colors of clothes. But I think, 
 however, that the colors were somewhat paler 
 than they are in nature. 
 
 " None of the figures had any distinguishing 
 characteristic ; they were neither terrible, ludi- 
 
VISIONS. 37 
 
 crous, nor repulsive ; most of them were ordinary 
 in their appearance ; some were even agreeable. 
 
 " On the whole, the longer I continued in this 
 state, the more did the number of phantasms in- 
 crease, and the appai'itions became more frequent. 
 About four weeks afterwards I began to hear 
 them speak ; sometimes the phantasms spoke with 
 one another ; but for the most part they addressed 
 themselves to me ; these speeches were in general 
 short, andnever contained anything disagreeable. 
 Intelligent and respected friends often appeared 
 to me, who endeavored to console me in my grief, 
 which still left deep traces on my mind. This 
 speaking I heard most frequently when I was 
 alone ; though I sometimes heard it in company, 
 intermixed with the conversation of real persons ; 
 frequently in single phrases only, but sometimes 
 even in connected discourse." .... 
 
 With the hope of obtaining relief M. Nicolai 
 determined to lose blood. The result is thus de- 
 scribed : — 
 
 " I was alone with the surgeon, but during the 
 operation the room swarmed with hviman forms 
 of every description, which crowded fast one on 
 another ; this continued till half past four o'clock, 
 exactly the time when the digestion commences. 
 I then observed that the figures began to move 
 more slowly ; soon afterwards the colors became 
 gradually paler; every seven minutes they lost 
 more and more of their intensity, without any al- 
 teration in the distinct figure of the apparitions. 
 
38 VISIONS. 
 
 At about half past six o'clock all the figures were 
 entirely white, and moved very little ; yet the 
 forms appeared perfectly distinct ; by degrees 
 they became visibly less plain, without decreasing 
 in number, as had often formerly been the case. 
 The figures did not move off, neither did they 
 vanish, which also had usually happened on other 
 occasions. In this instance they dissolved imme- 
 diately into air ; of some even whole pieces re- 
 mained for a length of time, which also by de- 
 grees were lost to the eye. At about eight o'clock 
 there did not remain a vestige of any of them, 
 and I have never since experienced any appear- 
 ance of the same kind." 
 
 Besides this account of his own experience, M. 
 Nicolai reports the case of his friend, Moses Men- 
 delsohn, who contracted a malady, after intense 
 application to study, in which he heard, at night, 
 a stentorian voice repeat much that had been 
 spoken to him during the day. Here the ear, not 
 the eye, was disturbed so as to report inaccurately. 
 
 The comments which are naturally suggested 
 by this extraordinary account, and the probable 
 explanation of the visions described, will be given 
 farther on, in connection with the discussion of 
 the physiological conditions of pseudopia. The 
 case which immediately follows resembles this in 
 being an instance of the abnormal action of two 
 senses simultaneously. 
 
VISIONS. 39 
 
 CASE VI. 
 
 Conscious centric or subjective pseudnpia and pseudotia ; in a 
 man over eighty years of age, associated loith disease of the 
 brain, which finally proved fatal. 
 
 Mr. A., a man of parts and education, was a 
 retired merchant. Possessed of an ample fortune, 
 be devoted more time to intellectual and aesthetic 
 pursuits than to business. He was particularly- 
 fond of music, was familiar with the works of the 
 great composers, and heard with delight the ar- 
 tists who interpreted them. During a long life, 
 he was a frequent attendant at operas and con- 
 certs where the best music was produced. Early 
 in his career he occasionally visited Europe, and 
 when he did so, he improved the opportunities 
 which his visit afforded, of indulging his mu- 
 sical taste more liberally than he could do in this 
 country. This fact of his possessing a fine mu- 
 sical taste, and of his indulging and cultivat- 
 ing it, is emphasized in this connection, in conse- 
 quence of its possible or probable relation to the 
 phenomena which will be related presently. It 
 should be added, that he was a man of more than 
 ordinary intellectual ability, and was endowed 
 with the rare gift of good common sense. Few 
 persons could be found less likely than he to be 
 led astray by their imagination or by supersti- 
 tion. Armed with an active temperament, good 
 habits, and a strong physical organization, he en- 
 joyed good health till after the age of eighty. He 
 
40 VISIONS. 
 
 then suffered for two or three years from a cere- 
 bral malady, which at length terminated fatally. 
 A moderate degree of deafness, persistent tinni- 
 tus aurium, occasional vertigo, and slight loss of 
 memory, were the prominent symptoms of his 
 condition for a year or two after he became an oc- 
 togenarian. Towards the close of life, incoher- 
 ence, delirium, stupor, and the like, indicated with 
 sufficient certainty the presence of severe cere- 
 bral disease. Its precise character, however, was 
 not ascertained by a post-mortem examination. 
 
 When about eighty years of age, and when suf- 
 fering from the deafness, tinnitus aurium, etc., 
 just alluded to, he called at my house early one 
 morning, and gave me the following account of 
 an extraordinary occurrence that had happened to 
 him the previous night. He prefaced his story 
 with the remark : " I have come to ask you, 
 doctor, if the time has arrived for me to step out 
 of this world." In reply to what he meant by 
 such a question, he said that he had witnessed a 
 most singular affair, during the previous night, of 
 which he could give no adequate explanation, and 
 which he thought might very likely be the fore- 
 runner of serious trouble in his brain. The ac- 
 count is given, as nearly as I can remember it, 
 in his own language, with the exception of chang- 
 ing the first to the third person. 
 
 He had retired, on the night referred to, at his 
 usual hour, and in his usual health. Nothing had 
 occurred for the day previous, or for several days 
 
VISIONS. 41 
 
 previous, to disturb him in any way so far as he 
 could recollect. He had partaken of his usual 
 diet, and followed his customary mode of life. 
 Soon after retiring he fell asleep, and slept well 
 till about two A. M., when he was awakened by 
 the sound of music, which seemed to come from 
 the street near his house. Thinking a serenade 
 was going on, he got up to ascertain where it was, 
 but discovered nothing. The sound ceased when 
 he arose. On returning to bed, he heard the sound 
 of music again, and was at the same time surprised 
 by the appearance of three persons, standing near 
 each other in his chamber, opposite the foot of his 
 bed. It was his habit to sleep with the gas-light 
 burning feebly, near the head of his bed. He 
 turned the gas on to its full power, and inspected 
 the intruders. They appeared to be musicians, 
 who were humming and singing, as if in prepara- 
 tion for a musical performance. He rang a bell, 
 which summoned his man servant. John soon ar- 
 rived and was ordered to put the strangers out. 
 " There is nobody here, sir," was John's reply to 
 the order. For a moment Mr. A. was not only 
 amazed, but alarmed. " What ! " he exclaimed, 
 "do you see no one there?" "No one," said John. 
 " Go where those chairs are, and move them," was 
 Mr. A.'s next direction. John did so. The stran- 
 gers stepped aside, but did not go out. By this 
 time Mr. A. had gathered his wits about him, and 
 was satisfied that he was the victim of a hallucina- 
 tion ; and he determined to observe its phenomena 
 
42 VISIONS. 
 
 carefully. Accordingly, he bade his servant de- 
 part, and prepared to watch his visitors. But they 
 were so life-like and human, that he was again 
 staggered, and recalling John, told him to go for 
 the housekeeper. She soon came, and on being 
 interrogated, confirmed John's statements, that 
 there were no strangers in the chamber, and no 
 sounds to be heard. Convinced by the testimony 
 of two witnesses, Mr. A. yielded to the decision 
 of his reason, and again resolved to go on with 
 the investigation of the strange phenomena. The 
 musicians had now resumed their position, near 
 the window and opposite the foot of the bed. Mr. 
 A. turned the light of the gas full upon them. He 
 looked at his watch, which marked the hour of 
 half past two. He then arranged his pillows, so 
 as to sit almost upright in bed, and waited for 
 the next scene of the play. He was able to note 
 the size, form, dress, and faces, of the performers. 
 One was a large man, who bore some resemblance 
 to Brignoli. The two others were of less size, and 
 shorter stature than their companion. All were 
 habited in dress coats, with white waistcoats, and 
 wore white ci^avats and white gloves. After a 
 little time, spent in coughing and clearing their 
 throats, they began to sing. They sang at first 
 a few simple airs, " Sweet Home " among others. 
 They then attempted more difiicult music, and 
 gave selections from Beethoven and Mozart. Be- 
 tween the pieces, they chatted with each other in a 
 foreign language, which Mr. A. took to be Italian, 
 
VISIONS. 43 
 
 but they did not address him. Occasionally they 
 changed their position, turned 'in various directions, 
 and part of the time sat down. Mr. A. said the 
 singing was excellent ; he had rarely heard better. 
 After the first feeling of surprise and amazement 
 had passed away, he enjoyed the music exceed- 
 ingly. The performance continued in this way 
 for some time, when it suddenly came to an end. 
 The singing ceased, and the singers vanished. He 
 looked at his watch, and found that the time was 
 four o'clock. The concert in his brain had lasted 
 nearly an hour and a half, almost the length of 
 an ordinary concert. He reflected for a while 
 uj)on this strange occurrence, but not being able 
 to arrive at any satisfactory explanation of it, he 
 turned his gas down and went to sleep. The next 
 morning he called at my ofiice, as previously 
 stated, to ascertain if possible what pranks his 
 brain had been playing, and if he should regard 
 them as a warning of his approaching departure. 
 
 Such was Mr. A.'s account of his singular vis- 
 ion. It occurred to me as possible that the whole 
 might be a vivid dream, which had produced such 
 an intense and profound impression as to deceive 
 him with regard to its character. In order to as- 
 certain whether such was the case or not, the two 
 servants, to whom he referred in his report of his 
 night's experience, were asked if Mr. A. had been 
 ill, or if anything unusual had taken place on the 
 night in question. The reply of each was, sub- 
 stantially, that he had only been a little out of his 
 
44 VISIONS. 
 
 head, and nothing more, at that time, because he 
 had called them up in the middle of the night, 
 and told them to put some persons out of his 
 room, when, except himself, no one was there. 
 Evidently the vision was more than an ordinary- 
 dream. 
 
 In one respect this case is almost unique. Like 
 that of M. Nicolai of Berlin, the only similar one 
 that I know of, it is an instance of a hallucina- 
 tion involving the abnormal action of two senses, 
 the sense of sight and the sense of hearing, si- 
 multaneously. It is not unusual for persons whose 
 brains have been disturbed by fever, alcohol, cere- 
 bral disease, intense excitement, or overpowering 
 emotion, to hear strange sounds, or see strange 
 sights. This is particularly true of the ear. 
 Noises that are altogether subjective, and of the 
 greatest variety, such as the ringing of bells, hiss- 
 ing of steam, cries of animals, screams of children, 
 chirping of locusts, and other sounds, including 
 occasionally human voices, are so often perceived, 
 and referred to the ear, that they are recognized 
 as forming a distinct group of symptoms, called 
 tinnitus aurium. In like manner, but less often, 
 objects, such as trees, animals, and human forms, 
 sometimes vague and sometimes distinct, have 
 been seen by a variety of persons and under va- 
 rious conditions ; but it is very unusual for two 
 senses to be deceived at the same time ; for the 
 eye and the ear of a person to be both at fault, 
 at the same moment, under the same circum- 
 
VTsroNS. 45 
 
 stances, and with regard to the same objects. 
 Such, however, was the fact in this case, and that 
 of M. Nicolai, and it is this which gives to these 
 cases a peculiar psychological and physiological 
 interest. Fortunately, modern physiology enables 
 us to form some notion, even if it be an imperfect 
 one, of how such phenomena are produced. We 
 are no longer obliged to conceal our ignorance, by 
 calling them imaginary, or denying their occur- 
 rence. Whatever physiological explanation may 
 be offered of these, and other hallucinations, will 
 be found in another part of this paper. 
 
 The visions, which are recorded in the next and 
 last case, are somewhat less definite and distinct 
 than those previousl}^ described. It presents, how- 
 ever, one element or factor of great physiological 
 significance, which none of the other cases exhibit; 
 and that is, the presumed and apparent influence 
 of the will in producing pseudopia. 
 
 CASE VII. 
 
 Conscious centric or subjective pseudopia ; influence of volition 
 upon its production ; phenomena recorded by the subject of 
 them. 
 
 The following case deserves especial attention, 
 not only on account of its intrinsic value, but be- 
 cause the subject of it, Mr. E., who is an accom- 
 plished scholar, a careful observer, and a distin- 
 guished scientist, has drawn up the present report 
 
46 VISIONS. 
 
 of it himself. Consequently, we have here, as in 
 the case of M. Nicolai, of Berlin, observations 
 made by a careful observer and trained thinker 
 u^Jon himself, of the phenomena of cerebral vis- 
 ion. For the graphic and interesting account 
 of them, which the following letter contains, the 
 writer of the present essay is indebted to Mr. E. 
 himself : — 
 
 My dear Dr. Clarke, — I have no other objections 
 to granting your request, than that my memory may 
 fail me as to details and dates. 
 
 In my childhood I was much tormented by faces ap- 
 pearing to me as soon as I closed my eyes in bed. Up 
 to the age of fifteen, I was subject to vivid dreams and 
 occasional walking in sleep. I mention these circum- 
 stances, because they throw light on the character of my 
 nervous system. 
 
 In my junior year in college (my age was twenty -four 
 in January), I not only kept up my undergraduate 
 studies, but gave several hours a day to other mathe- 
 matics, and read much in preparing and writing Bow- 
 doin Essays. My vacations were also spent in mathe- 
 matical work. 
 
 In the first term of the senior year, I began to suflTer 
 the penalties for this overwork. Sleeplessness at aight, 
 impulses by day to eccentric freaks, and the ringing 
 of nonsense and profanity in my ears, were the most 
 troublesome symptoms ; these, however, disappeared 
 after entire rest from mental labor for a few weeks, in 
 October and November, 1842; while the less trouble- 
 some symptoms of visions, which began about that time, 
 continued, I think, about two years. They were usually 
 
VISIONS. 47 
 
 beautiful and pleasant, so that I was tempted to imi- 
 tate Goethe, and try whether I could produce them at 
 will. I was i^articularly fond of statuary ; and after a 
 few trials succeeded in producing visions of statues, by 
 simply fixing my imagination strongly enough upon the 
 memory of what I had seen, or upon what occurred to 
 me as a good subject for a group. I repeated the ex- 
 periment, however, but few times, fearing it might lead 
 to some injurious result. 
 
 The spontaneous visions could generally be ascribed 
 to some unusual fatigue or excitement. Their form I 
 could also, usually, account for from recent visits to 
 paintings, statuary, or gardens ; but sometimes their 
 form seemed to have been suggested by something long 
 past, One afternoon I stood with closed eyes in the 
 chapel, in University Hall, and was startled by the aji- 
 pearance of a beautiful young face, in a cloud of light. I 
 opened my eyes, in order to disperse the vision. To my 
 surprise the vision remained several seconds, although 
 the sun was shining full upon the wall, by the side of the 
 pulpit, under which (in an imaginary recess, apparently 
 cutting off Dr. Ware's legs above the knees) this golden- 
 haired youth showed himself. The features bore a de- 
 cided likeness to Miss Sully's copy of Rembrandt's Peas- 
 ant Boy, which I admired very much, but had only seen 
 once, and that some months before the vision. 
 
 One of the last visions which I had was the most 
 troublesome. In Maj^, 1844, I was present at a colla- 
 tion, where long tables were adorned with large bouquets. 
 The next evening I was at a Sunday-school meeting 
 at the Berry Street church, Boston, and as I came out 
 was introduced to a lady, and requested to escort her to 
 Old Cambridge. She proved to be rather taciturn, and 
 
48 VISIONS. 
 
 as I was rather tired I finally grew sleepy ; but was 
 suddenly aroused, as we walked past the end of Inman 
 Street, Cambridgeport, by" seeing a large bouquet, in a 
 faint cloud of light, spring out of the top of a post, on 
 the edge of a sidewalk. From that point until I passed 
 what is now the end of Ellery Street, every post in suc- 
 cession sprouted in a similar manner, as I approached 
 within about ten feet of it. I did not dare tell my com- 
 panion, but tried to talk and to draw her out to speak 
 of other things. In nearly every bouquet I saw a 
 flower which I did not remember ever to have seen, 
 but which may have been in some bouquet the previous 
 evening ; I have since recognized it as cobea. 
 
 From Ellery to Quincy Street all went well except 
 the taciturnity of the lady ; but at about that point, I 
 was unpleasantly surprised by the sudden disappearance 
 of all fences, trees, and houses. We were on a bound- 
 less desert, a level plain of sand below us, a dull 
 cloudy sky above, nothing else visible, except two Lom- 
 bardy poplars, near together in the extreme distance in 
 front, I managed to allow my companion unconsciously 
 to be my guide to her house ; we went past the colleges, 
 past " the spire " and " the tower," under the Washing- 
 ton Elm ; still I saw nothing but the desert and the two 
 distant poplars. At length she paused, withdrew her 
 hand from my arm, and took hold of some invisible 
 thing before her. The latch of the gate clicked; in- 
 stantly the two poplars rushed towards us, and sank 
 into the ground at our feet ; and then, to my inexpres- 
 sible relief, all things took on their right appearance. I 
 bade the lady good-night, and as soon as she had closed 
 the door I started and ran at full speed to Divinity 
 Hall, fearing lest some new vision might prevent my 
 finding the way. 
 
VISIONS. 49 
 
 There seem to me three ways in which my optic 
 nerve has given me the sense of distinct vision. First, 
 by the normal method of light entering through the 
 lenses. Secondly, by a somewhat abnormal way, the 
 will holding imagination or memory to one ima'ge, until 
 the action of that mental image has become abnormally 
 great, and hke the action of light. Thirdly, by a truly 
 abnormal nervous excitation, spontaneously producing 
 sensations, those sensations receiving form, or being de- 
 termined into form, by indistinct, or, rather, unconscious 
 memories or imaginations. 
 
 Very respectfully and truly yours. 
 
 The visions which are reported in this case are 
 not so distinct as those described in the other cases 
 of the present series. It is also to be noticed, 
 that each separate halkicination or vision of Mr. 
 C. was only momentary in its appearance, and 
 that the figures, faces, and bouquets were more or 
 less shadowy. But if, in these respects, this case 
 is an imperfect illustration of subjective cerebral 
 vision, the imperfection is more than compensated 
 by the fact, that it presents a point of peculiar 
 physiological interest, which none of the other 
 cases exhibit, and which has rarely been observed, 
 or, at least, rarely reported. This is the power 
 or ability, which Mr. E. discovered in himself, of 
 producing visions, that is, of seeing objects like 
 statues and pictures, by an act of volition, and 
 without the aid of any objective reality. The 
 important bearing of such a brain power, if it 
 4 
 
50 VISIONS. 
 
 exists, upon the physiology of cerebral vision, and 
 the explanation which it affords of many curious 
 and strange phenomena that have hitherto been 
 regarded as purely psychological or imaginary, are 
 apparent. It will be discussed more at length 
 elsewhere. Two other points, of less physiolog- 
 ical interest than the one just mentioned, but 
 still of great value, are the same as two empha- 
 sized by Miss D. : one is the proclivity which Mr. 
 E.'s brain exhibited in early life to visions, as if 
 it were congenitally predisposed to them ; and 
 the other is the influence which he had observed, 
 that physical exhaustion, united with mental fa- 
 tigue, exerted as a factor in the production of 
 spectres. His explanation of the manner in 
 which he supposed his optic apparatus gave him 
 the sense of distinct vision, besides the ordinary 
 method of light entering through the lenses of 
 the eye, is ingenious and physiologically possible. 
 It will be referred to again. 
 
 Before attempting any explanation of the visual 
 phenomena which have been described, or mak- 
 ing any practical application to pathology, thera- 
 peutics, metaphysics, or popular beliefs of the in- 
 ferences which may be drawn from them, it is 
 important to direct the attention of the reader to 
 the processes and machinery of normal vision, or 
 orthopia. When these are known and correctly 
 interpreted, it will not be difficult to frame a 
 satisfactory explanation of the aberrations from 
 
VISIONS. 51 
 
 orthopia, which the previous cases present. We 
 shall then, moreover, be prepared to see what ser- 
 vice this knowledge, supplemented and interpreted 
 oj clinical observation, can render to practical 
 medicine, and possibly to metaphysics, as well as 
 to see how much light it may throw upon what 
 has been called mysterious and supernatm'al in 
 well authenticated and trustworthy instances of 
 ghostly apparitions, and spirit manifestations. If 
 the modicum of truth, hidden by the ignorance, 
 superstition, and charlatanism which surround 
 such occur^rences, could be disinterred from its en-, 
 vironraent, a real service would be rendered to 
 humanity. For where truth and error are united, 
 if the truth can be discovered, error can be safely 
 left to itself. Nothing dies so quickly as error 
 and falsehood, when there is no truth to animate 
 them. 
 
 y^is a common, but erroneous, notion that we 
 see with our eyes, and hear with our ears. It is 
 true that these organs are indispensable to normal 
 seeing and hearing, but it is also true, and a fact 
 of great importance, that they are only conduct- 
 ors of the vibrations, called light and sound, to 
 the delicate cerebral structures of the intracranial 
 apparatus, which transform such vibrations into 
 perceptions of sight and hearing ; that is, trans- 
 form them so that we see and hear. It is the 
 brain, and not the eye or the e<ir, by which we 
 see and hear 
 
 This will be made apparent by tracing the vi- 
 
52 VISIONS. 
 
 brations of light from a sensible object, through 
 the visual apparatus, to the gray matter of the 
 cerebral hemispheres, where they become con- 
 scious and ideated vision. In order to do this, we 
 should have a distinct notion of the character of 
 the optical apparatus which conducts light to the 
 brain ; that is, we should acquire a clear idea of 
 the road over which luminous vibrations travel, 
 and of the functions of each part of the apparatus 
 engaged in such delicate operations. 
 
 For our present purpose, the"" apparatus of hu- 
 •man vision may be described as a mechanism, con- 
 sisting of five organs, or sets of organs, which are 
 closely connected, and in intimate communication 
 with each other. They are : (1) the eye, with the 
 iris, lenses, retina and others structures, which 
 belong to it ; (2) the tubercula quadrigemina and 
 associated nerves ; (3) the cerebral centres of vis- 
 ion in the hemispheres, probably the angular 
 gyri ; (4) the gray matter of the frontal convolu- 
 tions ; and (5) the connecting nerves of commu- 
 nication. 
 
 Each portion of this complicated and delicate 
 apparatus performs a special function. To each 
 one is assigned its own part or duty, in the labor 
 of conveying such intelligence as light can report 
 from the external world to the brain. Each one 
 is supposed to do its own part or duty honestly ; 
 that is, never to send a report to a station above 
 which it has not received from below ; and in the 
 vast majority of cases, such is the fact. The 
 
VISIONS. 63 
 
 senses, and especially the sense of vision, rarely 
 I deceive any one. They are generally trusted im- 
 plicitly, because they are almost always trustwor- 
 thy. Nevertheless, modified by disease, disturbed 
 ( by drugs, or influenced by the brain itself, they 
 sometimes play false, manufacture news, like poli- 
 ticians and speculators, and send untrustworthy 
 reports to headquarters. 
 
 d^ight is the stimulus or force which, like the 
 steam that moves an engine, sets the visual ma- 
 chinery in motion. Without light, the apparatus 
 in the normal condition of the system cannot 
 work; but, as will be shown further on, and as 
 the preceding cases of pseudopia indicate, there 
 are abnormal conditions of the brain which are 
 capable of making the apparatus of vision per- 
 form its function without the agency of light. 
 When this occurs, the natural results are mental 
 confusion, disorder, and uncertainty^ 
 
 What light is in its essence we do not know. 
 Whether the theory of emission, as held by the 
 ancients and accepted by Newton, or that of un- 
 dulation, to which physicists of the present time 
 incline, or some other theory, be true, it is not im- 
 portant for the purposes of the present essay to 
 ascertain, (it is enough to know that light is 
 either a form of motion, or produces in some 
 aetherial medium motion of almost inconceivable 
 rapidity. The forms of motion which light as- 
 sumes, or the vibrations by which it is manifested, 
 are recognized by the cells of the retina of the 
 
64 VISIONS. 
 
 eye, which themselves vibrate in response to it. 
 Some idea of the delicacy of the retinal machinery 
 of vision, and of the corresponding delicacy of 
 the whole intracranial machinery, may be formed 
 by striving to picture to ourselves the minute- 
 ness of the wave-lengths of light to which the ret- 
 ina is susceptible. Fresnel states ^ that the na- 
 ture of colors is determined by the number of 
 vibrations which each color makes, just as differ- 
 ent sounds are produced by the varying number of 
 sonorous waves. Seven hundred and twenty-eight 
 millions of millions of undulations a second pro- 
 duce what we call the violet ray ; and more than 
 four hundred and ninety-six millions of millions 
 produce the red ray. The other rays are produced 
 by other numbers of undulations. In like manner, 
 differences of form and size, the varying expres- 
 sions of the human countenance, the constantly 
 changing aspects of nature, sunsets and storms, 
 the splendor of landscapes, and the majesty of 
 mountains and of the ocean, and all the wonderful 
 beauty, which the faculty of vision comprehends, 
 are telegraphed to the eye by vibrations, which 
 differ from each other by millions in a second. 
 This rapidity of movement and minuteness of 
 difference is almost inconceivable. Yet this ra- 
 pidity and minuteness, of which the mind fails to 
 form an adequate notion, the retina of the eye 
 appreciates, discriminates, and transmits to the 
 
 1 Traits £l€mentaire de Physique Experimentale et Appliqu^ie, 
 par A, Ganot. Paris. 13me ed., p. 560. 
 
VISIONS. 55 
 
 tubercula quadrigemina, and these to other parts 
 of the brain. 
 
 In the statement which has just been made, 
 that light is the agent which ordinarily produces 
 the phenomena of vision, the expression ordina- 
 rily was used designedly. For, while it is true 
 that such is the fact, it is also true, as has been 
 already stated, that the phenomena of vision may 
 be produced without the agency of light, and with- 
 out the presence of extra-cranial objects. Such 
 instances are rare, but that they may and do oc- 
 cur, and that they are susceptible of a physiolog- 
 ical explanation, are matters of great interest and 
 practical importance!) 
 
 Such, without eirCering into details, is the ap- 
 paratus of human vision ; and such the agent, 
 whose delicate undulations set it in motion and 
 enable it to be the most efficient, the most im- 
 portant, and the most delightful means of commu- 
 nication between the brain and the outer world 
 of any which the organization possesses. We 
 owe to anatomy the discovery and demonstration 
 of this apparatus, and of the tissues, fibres, cells, 
 and granules, which enter into its composition, 
 and out of which all its secret movements are 
 constructed. We owe to physics our knowledge 
 of the marvellous force to which it responds ; and 
 to physiology the investigation and discovery of 
 the special function in the process of vision which 
 is appropriated to each of its parts. Our next 
 step is to point out these special functions, and 
 
66 VISIONS. 
 
 the separate parts of the apparatus, which are 
 charged with their performance. It has already 
 been stated that each part of the visual apparatus 
 has its own work to do, and that intelligent vis- 
 ion results from the harmonious cooperation of 
 the whole. 
 
 It is important to bear in mind that vision, 
 which on account of its familiarity seems to be 
 a simple matter, is in reality a complex process. 
 It is called the sense of sight, but it is much more 
 than sensation. In connection with light, it em- 
 ploys the most delicate operations known to phys- 
 ics ; and in connection with the brain, the most 
 subtle operations known to metaphysics. By a 
 careful analysis it may be separated into its ele- 
 ments. When this is done, when its component 
 parts are discriminated from each other, as clearly 
 as the various parts of the visual apparatus have 
 been discerned and dissected out by anatomy, it 
 will be a comparatively easy task to assign each 
 part, or step in the visual process, to its appropri- 
 ate organ in the visual apparatus. The compli- 
 cated structure of the apparatus corresponds to 
 the complicated character of the process. Each 
 stage of the latter is a special function of some 
 organ of the former. 
 
 Let us now endeavor to analyze this process 
 and discover its elements. If a drop of corrosive 
 acid is put upon the foot of a frog, the animal in- 
 stantly withdraws its foot. The observer notices 
 that its foot has been burnt by the acid, and justly 
 
VISIONS. 57 
 
 infers that the frog felt a sensation of pain, and 
 consequently tried to remove its foot from the 
 source of harm. This is an instance of the sim- 
 plest form of sensation. Suppose, in another frog, 
 the sciatic nerve were completely severed, and 
 after the section a drop of the same acid were 
 put on the foot of the limb, of which the nerve 
 had been divided. The tissues would be burnt by 
 the acid as before, but the animal would not with- 
 draw its foot. In the first experiment pain was 
 felt ; there was sensation. In the second experi- 
 ment no pain was felt ; there was no sensation. 
 But the acid acted in the same way in each case. 
 The foot of the frog vtdth the divided nerve and 
 the foot of the frog with the undivided nerve were 
 both alike burnt. Evidently the foot did not feel ; 
 sensation was not there, though injury was. By 
 this example we learn that the process of sensa- 
 tion includes at least three elements ; namely, lo- 
 cal irritation, communication of the fact of such 
 irritation to a nerve centre, and consciousness, 
 which in this case was spinal consciousness. 
 
 Let us borrow another experiment from the 
 physiologists. If a frog is suspended by its two 
 anterior extremities, and a drop of acid is placed 
 on the foot of one of its free, posterior extremities, 
 the animal will withdraw its foot, rub its free ex- 
 tremities together, shut its eyes (a frog's expres- 
 sion of distress), make an effort to use its anterior 
 extremities for relief, and endeavor in every way 
 to get rid of the annoyance. If another frog, of 
 
68 VISIONS. 
 
 ■which the spinal cord has been severed at a point 
 above the junction of the nerves from the hind 
 legs with the cord, is suspended in the same way 
 as the former animal, and if, when thus suspended, 
 a drop of acid is put as before on one of its feet, 
 it will withdraw its foot, rub its two posterior ex- 
 tremities together, in order to push off the irritat- 
 ing cause, and try in every way, with the poste- 
 rior half of its body, to obtain relief, as was the 
 case with the frog in the previous experiment; 
 but, unlike the animal of the previous experiment, 
 it will not close its eyes, struggle with its fore 
 legs, or make any effort with the anterior part of 
 its body, above the point of section of the cord. 
 Evidently, the section of the cord has eliminated 
 from the process of sensation, in the frog of the 
 second experiment, an element which existed in 
 the frog of the first experiment. The first animal 
 endeavored, with his whole body, to get rid of 
 the irritation ; the second animal made the same 
 effort, for the same purpose, with only the poste- 
 rior half of its body. In the second experiment, 
 the anterior half did not know what was going on 
 in the posterior half. Cerebral consciousness of 
 disturbance did not exist. In the uninj ured frog 
 cerebral consciousness ^ of irritation existed, and 
 was an element in the animal's sensation. This 
 experiment discloses an element in the process of 
 
 1 Consciousness is not used here iu its metaphysical sense, but 
 only to discriminate cerebral sensation in the frog from spinal 
 sensation. Some persons might deny the existence of any met- 
 aphysical consciousness. 
 
VISIONS. 69 
 
 sensation, additional to those previously ascer- 
 tained. Besides local irritation, intercommunica- 
 tion, and sj)inal consciousness, there is cerebral 
 consciousness. 
 
 This does not exhaust the matter. Let us com- 
 pare the condition of a frog, of which the spinal 
 cord is sound, and of which all its nerves, running 
 from the centre to the periphery, are uninjured, 
 but which has been deprived of its cerebral hem- 
 ispheres, with a perfectly sound animal. Such a 
 frog will hop away, if disturbed ; withdraw its 
 foot, if the latter is irritated ; croak cheerfully, if 
 its back is gently stroked, and avoid obstacles in 
 the way of its leap. In all these respects, it will 
 act and appear like a sound frog. Yet there is 
 a remarkable difference between it and a sound 
 one. What this difference is, let Dr. Ferrier state : 
 " The brainless frog, unless disturbed by any form 
 of peripherical stimulus, will sit forever quiet in 
 the same spot and become converted into a mum- 
 my. All spontaneous action is annihilated. Its 
 past expeiience has been blotted out, and it ex- 
 hibits no fear in circumstances which otherwise 
 would cause it to retire or flee from danger. It 
 will sit quite still if the hand be put forth cau- 
 tiously to seize it, but will retreat if a brusque 
 movement is made close to its eyes. Surrounded 
 by plenty it will die of starvation ; but, unlike 
 Tantalus, it has no psychical suffering, no de- 
 sire and no will to supply its physical wants."* 
 
 ^ The Functions of the Brain, by David Ferrier, M. D., 
 ?. R. S., Am. ed., p. 35. 
 
60 VISIONS. 
 
 By this experiment another element, ideation, is 
 taken away from the process of sensation. Voli- 
 tion, the final cause of all sensation, is also re- 
 moved. 
 
 The previous analysis shows that sensation, in 
 its common acceptation, comprehends five distinct 
 elements : namely, local impression, communica- 
 tion, spinal consciousness, cerebral consciousness, 
 and ideation ; all of which are the necessai'y an- 
 tecedents of volition. 
 
 The process which has just been described, and 
 which is familiar to physiologists as conscious 
 and unconscious reflex action, is the type of the 
 most complex, as well as of the simplest, sensa- 
 tions. It is the only mode of activity which 
 science can discern, either in the spinal cord or 
 the brain. Those who do not believe in the free- 
 dom of the will regard volition as the culmina- 
 tion and subtlest form of reflex action ; and those 
 who take an opposite view admit that volition can 
 be exerted only through the machinery of reflex 
 action. 
 
 Sight is sensation. Yet it is a much more com- 
 plicated process than the one just described ; and, 
 consequently, requires for its accomplishment a 
 much more complicated apparatus than answers 
 for that ; still it is essentially the same, and can 
 be reduced to the same elements. In the process 
 of visual sensation, there are the local impression 
 of light on the eye, corresponding to the local in- 
 jury of the frog's foot ; communication, or tel- 
 
VISIONS. 61 
 
 egraphing, by means of the optic nerve, to the 
 tubei'cula quadrigemina, like that from the frog's 
 foot to its spine ; perception of the communica- 
 tion, or telegram, by the tubercula quadrigemina, 
 corresponding to the spinal consciousness of the 
 frog; telegraphing of the perception by the tu- 
 bercula quadrigemina to a higher centre, the an- 
 gular gyrus ; and communication from the latter 
 to the frontal convolutions, and consequent idea- 
 tion. The two last centres and their functions, 
 which are largely developed and distinctly differ- 
 entiated in man, correspond to the cerebral hem- 
 ispheres and cerebral consciousness of the frog. 
 
 This simple enumeration of the different stages 
 in the process of vision is not sufficient for our 
 purpose. It is necessary to exainine the process 
 more in detail ; and it will contribute both to 
 convenience and clearness of statement, to do this 
 by describing each of its steps or stages as a dis- 
 tinct function of a distinct part of the visual ap- 
 paratus ; that is, to point out the part which is 
 performed in the process of vision by the eye, 
 the tubercula quadrigemina, the centres of vision 
 in the hemispheres, the frontal convolutions, and 
 the connecting nerve trunks. 
 
 The function of the eye naturally demands at- 
 tention first. This organ receives the impression 
 of the waves of light through the iris, and, stim- 
 ulated by them, is enabled to ascertain approx- 
 imately the color and varying shades of color, 
 the form, outline, size, solidity, position, distance, 
 
62 VISIONS. 
 
 direction, and movement of objects. Dr. Dalton 
 says : " Of all the properties and functions be- 
 longing to the different structures of the eyeball 
 the most peculiar and characteristic is the special 
 sensibility of the retina. This sensibility is such 
 that the retina appreciates both the intensity and 
 the quality of the light — that is to say, its color 
 and the different shades which this color may pre- 
 sent. On account of the form, also, in which the 
 retina is constructed, namely, that of a spheroidal 
 membranous bag, with an opening in front, it be- 
 comes capable of appreciating the direction from 
 which the rays of light have come, and, of course, 
 the situation of the luminous body, and of its dif- 
 ferent parts. For the rays which enter through the 
 pupil from below can reach the retina only at its 
 upper part, while those which come in from above 
 can reach it only at its lower part ; so that in both 
 instances the rays strike the sensitive surface per- 
 pendicularly, and thus convey the impression of 
 their direction from above or below." ^ Form and 
 outline are ascertained by means of the crystal- 
 line lens, which, aided by the other refracting and 
 transparent media of the eyeball, produce a suffi- 
 cient convergence of the luminous rays to accom- 
 plish this object. 
 
 " Our impressions," says the eminent physiol- 
 ogist just quoted, " of distance and solidity, in 
 viewing external objects, are produced mainly by 
 
 1 A IVeatise on Human P/ii/siolo[/y, by John C. Dalton, Jr., 
 M. D., 3d ed., p. 494. 
 
VISIONS. 63 
 
 the combined action of the two eyes. For, as the 
 eyes are seated a certain distance apart from each 
 other in the head, when they are both directed 
 toward the same object their axes meet at the 
 point of sight, and form a certain angle with each 
 other ; and this angle varies with the distance of 
 the object. Thus, when the object is within a short 
 distance, the axes of the two eyes will necessarily 
 be very convergent, and the angle which they 
 form with each other a large one ; but for remote 
 objects, the visual axes will become more nearly 
 parallel, and their angle consequently smaller. 
 It is on this account that we can always distin- 
 guish whether any person at a short distance is 
 looking at us, or at some other object in our di- 
 rection ; since we instinctively appreciate from 
 the appearance of the eyes, whether their visual 
 axes meet at the level of our own face." ^ Ac- 
 cording to the same author, " the combined action 
 of the two eyes is also very valuable for near ob- 
 jects, in giving us an idea of solidity or projec- 
 tion. For, within a certain distance, the visual 
 axes when directed together at a solid object are 
 so convergent that the two eyes do not receive the 
 same image." The ability to accommodate it- 
 self to different distances, which the eye possesses 
 within certain limits, and which is accomplished 
 by means of an antero-posterior movement of the 
 crystalline lens, enables it to measure, approxi- 
 mately, the distance of objects. The movement 
 
 1 Dalton, op. cit., pp. .501, 502. 
 
64 VISIONS. 
 
 of the eyeball in various directions, by which it 
 follows a moving object, as a bird flying or a man 
 walking, gives to it the power of recognizing and 
 estimating motion. The sensibility and response 
 of the retina to the almost inconceivable velocity 
 of the waves of light, by which that membrane 
 recognizes color and varying shades of color, has 
 already been noticed. These, and similar impor- 
 tant data of the motion, direction, distance, and 
 character of external bodies, are all collected and 
 registered by the eye, and reported through the 
 optic nerve to the tubercula quadrigemina and 
 the brain. In the performance of this duty the 
 eye accomplishes a purely automatic or mechan- 
 ical task, in which consciousness takes no part, 
 and over which volition has no control. The eye 
 receives and measures the impressions made upon 
 it by light, as thermometers, barometers, and rain- 
 gauges measure and register meteorological phe- 
 nomena. 
 
 This then is the function of the eye, to collect 
 the data out of which vision is constructed, but 
 not to perform the office or be charged with the 
 responsibility of sight. 
 
 Two questions now present themselves : What 
 is sent through the optic nerve ? and how is it 
 sent? The ancients supposed that minute and 
 invisible images were thrown off by sensible ob- 
 jects, which entered the eye and passed thence to 
 the brain, where they were perceived. Philoso- 
 phers of later times substituted for this fanciful 
 
VISIONS. . 65 
 
 theory an equally fanciful and uniutelligible one, 
 that ideas, which were supposed to be exact copies 
 of objects, were the media by which the mind 
 takes cognizance of the external world. When 
 it was ascertained that images of objects were 
 formed by luminous rays on the retina, as in a 
 mirror, the theory of the intervention of ideas 
 between the outer world and the brain was dis- 
 carded, and it was believed that the retinal image 
 was in sonre mysterious way transmitted to the 
 brain. The latter conception prevails somewhat 
 at the present time, though how the feat is ac- 
 complished no one pretends to guess. None of 
 these theories are true. " The formation of an 
 image on the retina is the precursor of a visual 
 sensation ; but this image is not transmitted to 
 the brain. The oxidation of a volatile substance is 
 the precursor to an -olfactory sensation ; but this 
 oxidation is not transmitted to the brain. The 
 destruction of tissue, which is the precursor of a 
 sensation of a burn, is not transmitted to the 
 brain. That which is in each case transmitted 
 is the excited sensation." ^ When a telegraphic 
 operator at station A sends a message to another 
 station, B, which is connected with A by a wire^ 
 he sends no words, or hieroglyphics, or represen- 
 tations over the wire, but employs the current 
 of electricity with which the wire is charged, to 
 operate an apparatus for writing, or making sig- 
 
 ^ The Physiology of Common Life, by G. H. Lewes, Am. ed. 
 vol. ii., p. 277. 
 
 5 
 
66 VISIONS. 
 
 nals of some sort at B ; the characters produced 
 by the apparatus at B, at the will of the operator 
 at A, are deciphered at B, and thus a message 
 is sent from A to B. The operator at A ob- 
 serves a military parade, notes the number, ap- 
 pearance, weapons, officers, and other character- 
 istics of the battalion, takes the whole picture 
 into his mind, out of which he constructs a re- 
 port, which is presented at B by means of the 
 apparatus in that station. The operator at B re- 
 constructs from this report the picture which the 
 reporter at A had formed, and so acquires an ac- 
 curate notion of the parade. In like manner the 
 eye takes in the picture — receives a photographic 
 impression — of a military parade, and employs the 
 neurility of the optic nerve, of which the special 
 excitant is light, and to which it alone responds, 
 to set in motion an apparatus in the tubercula 
 quadrigemina, by the action of which a picture 
 or notion of the parade is reproduced in the 
 quadrigeminal station. Thus every impression 
 which is photographed on the retina of the eye is 
 reproduced in the tubercula quadrigemina, though 
 it by no means follows that the same physical 
 appearance or condition which light produces in 
 the eye is repeated at tlie other extremity of the 
 optic nerve. It is evident, on tlie contrary, that 
 no such repetition can occur, for the tubercular 
 apparatus is altogether different from the retinal 
 apparatus, and responds to a different stimulus. 
 How the optic nerve behaves, when, stimulated 
 
VISIONS. 67 
 
 by light at its retinal extremity, it sets in motion 
 an apparatus at its quadrigeminal extremity, we 
 do not know any more than we know how a wire 
 behaves when it conducts electricity from one 
 station to another. Any explanation of the mat- 
 ter must, from the nature of the case, be more or 
 less hypothetical. Wundt says, referring to his 
 analysis of the evidence on this point : " Nothing 
 more can be inferred from these facts than that 
 light is changed within the optic filaments to a 
 form of motion, which corresponds to the velocity 
 of the waves of light, only within limits that are 
 yet to be ascertained." ^ The hypothesis of Her- 
 bert Spencer is, perhaps, as plausible and satis- 
 factory as any which it is possible to offer at the 
 present time. " He looks upon the stimulus ap- 
 plied to a sentient surface as molecular action is- 
 suing from the disturbing cause, and transmitted 
 through the nerve-fibre, by means of isomeric 
 transformation, to the nerve-cell, in which the 
 force is augmented by the decomposition of some 
 unstable matter, to be sent again by isomeric 
 transformation to the muscular fibre, where it is 
 lost in the contraction it caused. In proportion 
 to the degree of intensity of the stimulus, this is 
 extended to neighboring nerve-cells belonging to 
 the same group, in which, by decomposition of 
 their contents, more nerve-force is liberated, etc. 
 The transmission of nerve-force he further sup- 
 
 1 Grundziige der Physiologiscken Psychologie, von Wilhelm 
 Wundt, p. 332. 
 
68 VISIONS. 
 
 poses not to take place in the form of a continu- 
 ous current, but rather in separate waves of mole- 
 cuhir change, each wave being produced by the 
 molecules of the nerve-substance falling from one 
 of their isomeric states to the other ; and having 
 fallen in passing, on increasing the pulse or shock, 
 they remain incapable of doing anything more, 
 until they have resumed their previous isomeric 
 state. In this manner, then, innumerable waves 
 of nervovis energy, following each other in rapid 
 succession, and constituting a nervous current, are 
 produced." ^ 
 
 This point has been elaborated at length, on 
 account of its importance in connection with the 
 physiology of visions, an importance which will 
 be apparent when that subject is discussed. 
 
 FUNCTIONS OF THE TUBERCULA QUADRIGEMINA. 
 
 The tubercula quadrigemina form the first in- 
 tracranial station, on the way from the eye to the 
 frontal lobes of the brain. They are four small 
 but important bodies, of which the functions are 
 obscure, and till lately have been imperfectly un- 
 derstood. It has long been known that they are 
 essential to vision, but the precise office which 
 they perform in connection with the eye remained 
 undiscovered until recently, and now, though phy- 
 siologists have cleared away a good deal of the 
 
 1 Transactions of the American Neurological Association, vol. 
 i., p. 119. Structure of the Nervous Tissues, hy H. D. Schmidt, 
 where H. Spencer is quoted as above. 
 
VISIONS. 69 
 
 obscurity which concealed their functions, much is 
 to be done. Fortunately for our purpose, what 
 has been discovered is of great service in attempt- 
 ing a rational explanation of the phenomena of 
 pseudopia. 
 
 Physiology teaches that the functions of the 
 tubercula quadrigemina may be divided into four 
 classes : those connected with the muscular ap- 
 paratus of the eye ; those connected with the 
 muscular apparatus of the whole body, and par- 
 ticularly with the apparatus of locomotion and 
 equilibration ; those remotely connected with emo- 
 tion and intellection ; and those connected di- 
 rectly with the sense of sight. When carefully 
 examined it will appear that these apparently 
 diverse functions which physiologists have local- 
 ized in the tubercula quadrigemina have an in- 
 timate connection with each other, through the 
 relation which sight bears to muscular, emotional, 
 and intellectual action. In accordance with this 
 generalization, it may be stated that the tuber- 
 cula quadrigemina are charged with the reception 
 and transmission of visual impressions, and with 
 the duty of coordinating all automatic muscular 
 movements, whether of the eye or of the whole 
 body, or of any part of the body, which require 
 for their initiation or perfectation the intervention 
 of sight, and with contributing certain reflex vis- 
 ual elements to general cerebral activity. Thus 
 regarded, much of the obscurity and complexity 
 with which the tubercula quadrigemina have been 
 
70 VISIONS. 
 
 invested disappears, and the mechanism of their 
 functions becomes compai'atively simple and intel- 
 ligible. Dr. Dalton says, most happily, that the 
 tubercula quadrigemina preside^ as ganglia, over 
 the sense of sight. They are not the centre of 
 vision, but they preside over the process of vis- 
 ion, and over all automatic or reflex actions which 
 require vision for their perfect performance or 
 harmonious development. It should be borne in 
 mind that ideated vision, or what Carpenter would 
 call the ideo-motor action of sight, has its centre, 
 not in this region, but higher up in the hemi- 
 spheres. Wundt expresses himself thus : " We 
 cannot doubt that the mechanism by which sight 
 directs the muscular apparatus of our body is 
 placed in the tubercula quadrigemina. But we 
 should remember that muscular motions are per- 
 formed under the influence of light in a twofold 
 way : first, by the tubercula quadrigemina them- 
 selves, where visual impressions of light first set 
 free those compound motor reactions which cor- 
 respond to the quality and form of the impres- 
 sions of light ; and next in the cortex, where, at 
 the central termination of the optic filaments, a 
 sort of transference takes place The di- 
 rect action of the tubercula quadrigemina is lim- 
 ited to an influence over locomotion, locomotion 
 itself depending on other causes, and to the pro- 
 duction of such movements as follow the immedi- 
 ate impression of light, such as reflex movements 
 of the eye, the pupil, the eyelids, and efforts to 
 
VISIONS. 71 
 
 avoid excessive liglit.^ The statement of a few 
 details will be sufficient to justify the generali- 
 zation which has just been' made, and will also 
 illustrate the character of the quadrigeminal func- 
 tions. 
 
 The familiar phenomenon of contraction of the 
 pupil, under the influence of light, is a reflex ac- 
 tion, " in which the impression," says Dalton, " re- 
 ceived by the retina is transmitted along the optic 
 nerve to the tubercula quadrigemina. From the 
 tubercles a motor impulse is then sent out through 
 the motor nerves of the eye and the filaments dis- 
 tributed to the iris, and a contraction of the pupil 
 takes place in consequence." In this way the tu- 
 bercles regulate the amount and intensity of light 
 falling upon the retina. In like manner, those 
 movements of the eyeball, which are necessary to 
 guide and preserve the axes of the eyes in any 
 direction required for the purposes of vision, are 
 reflexes from the tubercula quadrigemina. When 
 a seamstress undertakes to thread a needle, the 
 pupils of her eyes are adjusted to the surrounding 
 light, her eyeballs to the appropriate axis of vis- 
 ion, the position of her head to the requirements 
 of her eyeballs, and the movements of her arms 
 and fingers to the act of entering the thread into 
 the eye of the needle. All the muscular machin- 
 ery necessary to the execution of this complicated 
 manoeuvre is coordinated with light so as to ac- 
 complish the purpose, by the tubercula quadrigem- 
 
 1 Wundt, op. cit., pp. 194, 195. 
 
72 VISIONS. 
 
 ina. It is not a difficult task to balance the body 
 on one foot, for a few moments, with the eyes 
 open. Let the same experiment be tried with the 
 eyes shut, and the difficulty of steadily maintain- 
 ing an equilibrium is vastly increased. In the 
 last case, the muscles are guided and controlled in 
 their effort to preserve a firm, upright posture by 
 • the muscular sense alone ; in the former case, the 
 muscular sense is supplemented by sight ; and 
 such aid is rendered possible by the mediation of 
 the tubercles, which coordinate visual impressions 
 with muscular effort. In this action, as in many 
 others, the muscles can be trained to act without 
 the aid of the eye, but their perfect working can 
 be secured only in the manner indicated. It is a 
 long and laborious process for a child to learn to 
 walk, but after the art is acquired, walking is so 
 far automatic, that it is accomplished with appar- 
 ent unconsciousness ; yet, let a person close his 
 eyes when walking, and his gait immediately be- 
 comes insecure. Here again it is by means of the 
 tubercula quadrigemina that a muscular effort is 
 rendered easy and perfect, which would otherwise 
 be difficult and imperfect. 
 
 If the tubercula quadrigemina are destroyed, 
 leaving other parts of the brain intact, an experi- 
 ment which has been performed on frogs, fishes, 
 rabbits pigeons, dogs, and monkeys, the result is 
 that, while with the exception of loss of sight all 
 the senses are preserved, marked disturbances of 
 equilibrium and loco-motor coordination are pro- 
 
VISIONS. 73 
 
 duced, " In rabbits, disorganization of tlie cor- 
 pora quadrigemina causes blindness, with dilata- 
 tion and immobility of the pupils, and also very- 
 marked disturbances of equilibrium and locomo- 
 tion. While still capable of making coordinated 
 movements of all four limbs on reflex stimulation, 
 or when held up by the tail, they could neither 
 stand nor walk, but rolled over from side to 
 side." ^ The experiments of physiologists justify 
 the assertion that the optic tubercles are not only 
 essential to vision and to irido-ocular motion, but 
 that they form an essential part of the central 
 mechanism, by which visual impressions are co- 
 ordinated with equilibrium, locomotion, and all 
 muscular effort requiring light for its best results. 
 The relations of visual impressions to corporeal 
 movements are not exhausted by the functions of 
 the tubercula quadrigemina. It is probable that 
 such impressions are still further elaborated in the 
 thalami optici. Wundt suggests, " that the con- 
 nection of visual impressions with corporeal move- 
 ments, which are partly determined in the optic 
 tubercles, may be perfected in the optic thalami, 
 through the filaments which can be traced from 
 the latter to the optic tract. Inasmuch as the 
 same motor mechanism, which is regulated by the 
 organ of tact, can also be excited by the organ 
 of sight, it is conceivable that such an arrange- 
 ment would essentially contribute to the simplifi- 
 cation of the central function." 2 Dr. E. Tourni^ 
 
 1 Ferrier's Functions of the Brain, p. 74, Am. ed. 
 
 2 Wundt, op. cit., p. 201. 
 
74 VISIONS. 
 
 has been led still further in the same direction by 
 his experiments. He destroyed the optic thalami 
 of dogs by an injection of chloride of zinc, and 
 inferred therefrom, that the optic thalami are the 
 " unique centre " of perception, and of the coor- 
 dination of perception with all the other senses, 
 and with all bodily movements. His experiments 
 do not fully bear out his conclusions, and other 
 investigators have not confirmed his views in this 
 respect. Nevertheless, it may be safely affirmed, 
 that the functions of the o]3tic thalami sustain an 
 intimate relation to those of the tubercula quad- 
 rigemina. The two centres are anatomical neigh- 
 bors and physiological partners. What the precise 
 character and limits of their separate functions 
 are must be left to the decision of physiologists ; 
 it is sufficient for the purpose of a rational ex- 
 planation of the phenomena of pseudopia to know, 
 that between the eye and the cerebral hemi- 
 spheres, there is a region where visual impressions, 
 proceeding from the eye, are transformed, classi- 
 fied, and coordinated with other sensory impres- 
 sions, whence they are transmitted to the hem- 
 ispheres, there to be still further elaborated, and 
 made the basis of ideation and volition. 
 
 The relation of visual impressions to emotion 
 and intellection are more subtle and obscure, but 
 not less real, than those which have just been 
 described. It is difficult, perhaps impossible, to 
 demonstrate, experimentally, where and how such 
 impressions are coordinated with emotion and 
 
VISIONS. 75 
 
 thousflit, but the inference from the data af- 
 forded by physiology, pathology, and clinical ob- 
 servation, is conclasive, that such coordination 
 takes place, and that the work is partially accom- 
 plished by the tubercula quadrigemina. A priori 
 considerations yield a presumption, which almost 
 amounts to a demonstration, of the truth of this 
 statement. A world of beauty, emotion, and ideas 
 floods the brain through the eye. Sight is the 
 medium, by which the beauty of the human face 
 and form, and of all external life, is presented to 
 us ; by which the varying expressions of passion 
 and thought, of hope, joy, and pain, are discrimi- 
 nated ; and by which we take hold of a large por- 
 tion of the pleasures, sorrows, and possibilities of 
 our mundane existence. It would be strange if a 
 messenger, bearing such messages and laden with 
 such treasures, were not admitted into the inmost 
 recesses of the brain, and brought into contact 
 with every cerebral function. It cannot be other- 
 wise. Sight must influence all cerebral functions. 
 Ferrier, whose caution and judicial fairness en- 
 hance the value of his conclusions, says : " The 
 foregoing considerations on the relation between 
 the phenomena of irritation and destruction of the 
 corpora quadrigemina, though in many respects 
 professedly only of a hypothetical nature, tend to 
 support the view that these ganglia are the cen- 
 tres specially concerned in the reflex expression of 
 feeling or emotion. This is rendered still more 
 probable by the recently demonstrated influence 
 
76 VISIONS. 
 
 which the corpora quadrigemina, or more properly, 
 the deeper parts of the corpora quadrigemina, 
 exert on the functions of circulation and respira- 
 tion, modifications of which are one of the most 
 frequent concomitants of states of feeling or emo- 
 tion." ^ In another place he adds: "The feel- 
 ings accompanying the more intellectual senses, 
 sight and hearing, are the primordial elements of 
 aesthetic emotions which are founded on harmo- 
 nies of sight and sound." ^ It is as necessary that 
 crude visual impressions should be somewhere 
 elaborated, classified, and prepared, after leaving 
 the eye, so as to fit them for the use of the higher 
 cerebral centres, where ideation goes on ; or in 
 other words, so as to coordinate them with the 
 higher centres, as that this process should be 
 performed, in order to coordinate them with the 
 lower centres of motor activities. 
 
 The most important function of the tubercula 
 quadrigemina remains to be mentioned. The tu- 
 bercles are the centre of the sense of sight, though 
 not of the higher forms of conscious vision. Dal- 
 ton teaches that " direct experiment also shows 
 the close connection between the tubercula quad- 
 rigemina and the sense of sight. Section of the 
 optic nerve at any point between the retina and 
 the tubercles produces complete blindness ; and 
 destruction of the tubercles themselves has the 
 same effect. But if the division be made between 
 
 1 Ferrier, op. cit., p. 83. 
 
 2 Ibid., p. 260. 
 
 s>Mmm. 
 
VISIONS. 77 
 
 the tubercles and the cerebrum, or if the cere- 
 brum itself be taken away while the tubercles are 
 left untouched, vision, as we have already seen, 
 still remains. It is the tubercles, therefore, in 
 which the impression of light is perceived. So 
 long as these ganglia are uninjured, and retain 
 their connection with the eye, vision remains. 
 As soon as this connection is cut off, or the gan- 
 glia themselves are injured, the power of vision is 
 destroyed." ^ Visual impressions first come with- 
 in the sphere or domain of consciousness when 
 they reach the tubercula quadrigemina. Then 
 they are first perceived by the ego. The eye, 
 with its lenses, membranes, tubes, and cells, 
 silently and unconsciously performs the task of 
 collecting visual data, which data the optic nerve 
 with equal unconsciousness transmits to the tuber- 
 cles. Arrived at that point they are recognized 
 by consciousness. 
 
 The visual functions of the tubercula quadri- 
 gemina which have been described suggest our two 
 next inquiries : (1.) What is the mechanism, and 
 what the process, by which the optic tubercles, 
 after receiving a visual telegram from the eye, 
 transform and transmit it to the hemispheres ? 
 (2.) What kind of visual joerception occurs in the 
 tubercles ? Is it the same as that which occurs 
 in the hemispheres, or is perception in the former 
 different from perception in the latter ? A satis- 
 factory answer to these two questions would go 
 
 1 Diiltou's Ph/jsiology, p. 435. 
 
78 VISIONS. 
 
 a great way towards solving the problem of pseii- 
 dopia. Unfortunately, neither of these can be 
 answered, in the present condition of physiological 
 science, with the fulness and certainty which are 
 desirable ; but if a complete answer is impossible, 
 a partial one can be given. 
 
 The inquiry which concei'ns the character of 
 the machinery of the optic tubercles, and the 
 manner of its action, naturally demands consid- 
 eration first. 
 
 The tubercula quadrigemina are ganglia of the 
 nervous apparatus, and resemble in their con- 
 struction other ganglia, which may be found at- 
 tached to the nerves in every part of the organi- 
 zation. In its simplest form, a ganglion is the 
 junction, knotenpunkte, the Germans call it, by 
 ■which an afferent nerve is connected with an ef- 
 ferent nerve, and is also the workshop where the 
 effect of a sensory stimulus, carried thither by 
 an afferent nerve, is transformed into a motor 
 stimulus, and sent out to excite motion. The 
 annexed diagram roughly represents this sim- 
 ple, but efficient and marvellous, mechanical con- 
 trivance. 
 
 3T.. 
 
 G) 
 
 Fig. 1. Diagram of ganglionic macliinery. S. Point of sensation, s. n. 
 Sensory nerve, g. Ganglion or workshop, m. n. Motor nerre. M. Point of 
 motion. 
 
 When a sensory stimulus acts at S. informa- 
 
VISIONS. 79 
 
 tion of the occurrence is sent through the sensory- 
 nerve, s. n., to the ganghon, g. The message, re- 
 ceived and read at g., is acknowledged by put- 
 ting the ganglionic machinery in action and send- 
 ing through the motor nerve, m. n., a correspond- 
 ing message to a motor apparatus at iHf., whei^e, 
 on receipt of the message (transferred stimulus), 
 motion is produced. The ganglion receives and 
 deciphers a message from one direction, and pre- 
 pares and dispatches a corresponding message in 
 another direction. When the machinery acts nor- 
 mally, as it does in the vast majority of cases, no 
 message is ever dispatched by the ganglion, g., to 
 w., except in response to a communication from s. 
 Under certain abnormal conditions, however, it is 
 possible for a ganglion to act spontaneously, and 
 send an order without having received one. When 
 this occurs, the operator at m. is deceived, sup- 
 poses a communication has been received from s., 
 and acts accordingly. It would anticipate the 
 order of our subject to do more than allude to 
 this important physiological fact in this connec- 
 tion. Its bearing upon pseudopia will be pointed 
 out in another place. 
 
 Such is the office of a ganglion of the sim- 
 plest character ; and such, essentially, is the office 
 of ganglia of the most complex character ; of 
 those charged with the highest cerebral functions. 
 All are, of course, provided with the machinery 
 for receiving, deciphering, and dispatching mes- 
 sages. The tubercula quadrigemina are no ex- 
 
80 VISIONS. 
 
 ception to this statement. They are ganglia, 
 ganghonic workshops, placed between the eye 
 and the hemispheres, and charged with the func- 
 tions which have been described. Their appara- 
 tus, like that of other ganglia, consists of cells, 
 fibres, blood-vessels, and connective tissue, en- 
 closed by a protecting membrane. 
 
 Of this mechanism the cells form the most im- 
 portant part, and should be carefully studied. 
 They vary in shape and size. Some are round 
 and some oval ; others oblong, spindle-shaped, 
 triangular, or radiated. They are armed with one 
 or more prolongations, upon which their shape 
 largely depends, and by which the fibres connect- 
 ing them with other cells and other tissues, enter 
 and depart. The forms which occur most fre- 
 quently in ganglionic and nerve tissue are repre- 
 sented in Fig. 2. 
 
 Cells are as variable in size as in shape. Mr. 
 Bain tells us that nerve cells range from ^^^ to 
 s^^o of an inch in diameter. According to the 
 same authority, the nerve filaments, which enter 
 and leave cells, range from j^'^jo to x^o o o o^ of ^.n 
 inch in thickness. Each cell contains an eccen- 
 tric, globular body, called its nucleus, enclosing a 
 still smaller body, known as the nucleolus ; one 
 packed within the other, like a nest of boxes. 
 The space between the investing membrane, nu- 
 cleus and nucleolus, is filled with minute, albumi- 
 nous granules of protoplasm, which extend into 
 
 :.K«dlHk 
 
VISIONS. 
 
 81 
 
 the cellular prolongations, and surround the nerve 
 fibres and nerve filaments, entering and leaving 
 these avenues (Fig. 2). Pigment granules are 
 also found among the protoplasmic granules ; 
 
 Fig. 
 
 Vaeieties op Nerve Cells, a. Radiated cell from the anterior horn of the 
 spinal marrow vntb. granules of protoplasm, /, extending into the prolonga- 
 tions, b. Radiated and triangular cells from the cerebellum, c. Bipolar 
 ganglionic cell, from the spinal ganglion of a fish. d. Pyramidal cell from 
 the cortex qerebri. e. Central origin of a nerve filament from a cell. 
 f. Granules of protoplasm, g. Nucleus, enclosing nucleolus (after Wundt), 
 pp. 29, 30. 
 
 sometimes equally distributed among the latter, 
 and sometimes collected in heaps by themselves. 
 (Wundt). Lastly, there is that important ele- 
 ment, the blood, which circulates with such free- 
 dom among these corpuscles, that, according to 
 
 6 
 
82 VISIONS. 
 
 the computation of Herbert Spencer, as reported 
 by Mr. Bain, five times as much blood flows 
 around and among the corpuscles, as in other por- 
 tions of nerve tissue. 
 
 It is diflScult, perhaps impossible, to make an 
 accurate estimate of the number of fibres, cells, 
 and granules, which v^ith blood-vessels make up 
 the tubercula quadrigemina. An approximative 
 notion, however, may be formed by computing the 
 number which the hemispheres of the brain con- 
 tain, comparing the size of the hemispheres with 
 that of the tubercles, and then estimating the pro- 
 portionate number in the latter. The tubercles 
 are not less rich in cells than the brain. " The 
 thin cake of gray substance surrounding the hem- 
 ispheres of the brain, and extended into many 
 doublings by the furrowed or convoluted structure, 
 is somewhat difficult to measure. It has been es- 
 timated at upwards of 300 square inches, or as 
 nearly equal to a square surface of 18 inches in 
 the side. Its thickness is variable, but, on an aver- 
 age, it may be stated at one tenth of an inch. It 
 is the largest accumulation of gray matter in the 
 body. It is made up of several layers of gray sub- 
 stance, divided by layers of white substance. The 
 gray substance is a nearly compact mass of corpus- 
 cles, of variable size. The large caudate nerve-cells 
 are mingled with very small corpuscles, less tlian 
 the thousandth of an inch in diameter. Allowing 
 for intervals, we may suppose that a linear row of 
 five hundred cells occupies an inch, for three hun- 
 
VISIONS. 83 
 
 dred inches. If one half of the thickness of the 
 layer is made up of fibres, the corpuscles or cells, 
 taken by themselves, would be a mass one twenti- 
 eth of an inch thick, say sixteen cells in the depth. 
 Multiplying these numbers together, we should 
 reach a total of twelve hundred millions of cells in 
 the gray covering of the hemispheres. As every 
 cell is united with at least two fibres, often many 
 more, we may multiply this number by four, for 
 the number of connecting fibres attached to the 
 mass ; which gives four thousand eight hundred 
 millions of fibres." ^ According to this computa- 
 tion, the cerebral hemispheres contain, in round 
 numbers, one thousand millions of corpuscles, and 
 five thousand millions of fibres. If the optic tu- 
 bercles equal in size only a thousandth part of the 
 hemispheres, they would contain one million of 
 corpuscles, five millions of fibres, and from five to 
 ten millions of protoplasmic and pigmentary gran- 
 ules. Evidently, here is sufficient material for 
 whatever grouping or action may be necessary to 
 receive, register, and report the most vai'ied visual 
 experience of the longest human life. 
 
 Nothing is known, and nothing probably ever 
 will be known of the groupings, combinations, and 
 metamorphoses of cells, corpuscles, and granules, 
 by means of which visual impressions forwarded 
 to the tubercula quadrigemina by the eye, are 
 interpreted, recorded, and transmitted to the vis- 
 
 1 Mind and Body, by Alexander Baiu, LL. D., Am. ed., 
 pp. 106-7. 
 
84 VISIONS. 
 
 ual centre of the hemispheres. We know, how- 
 ever, that the constituent elements of the optic 
 tubercles admit of mechanical, thermal, and chem- 
 ical action, and it is conceivable that all of these 
 agencies may be employed in visual operations. 
 Corpuscles and granules are highly unstable ele- 
 ments, easily decomposed and destroyed, and easi- 
 ly reproduced. Their decomposition liberates a 
 certain amount of nervous energy, which may be 
 used to reinforce the original sensory stimulus, as 
 the relay of a battery reinforces an electric cur- 
 rent, or to perform some other work. " Gangli- 
 onic cells," says Wundt, "possess in a high de- 
 gree the power of developing and intensifying the 
 stimulus they receive." In the case of the tuber- 
 cula quadrigemina, this power may be exerted, 
 not only for the purpose of forwarding with in- 
 creased energy to the hemispheres a visual im- 
 pression which has been received, but for oper- 
 ations within the ganglia, by which recording, 
 coordination, and signaling are effected. The de- 
 composition of one or more granules by the spark 
 of a visual stimvilus, like the explosion of one or 
 more grains of gunpowder by a spark of elec- 
 tricity, may be the tubercular signal of a red color, 
 or the force which groups two or more corpuscles 
 in a form to signify a red color ; or the force to 
 induce a chemical change, which shall coordinate 
 sight with corporeal movements. 
 
 The following diagram, Fig. 3, may serve to 
 illustrate the conceivable action of the tubercula 
 
VISIONS. 
 
 85 
 
 quadrigeraina under the influence of a visual im- 
 pression, — that of an uplifted dagger, for example. 
 Let R indicate the retina of the eye, upon which 
 Fig. 3. 
 
 R, retina ; A A' A" fibres of the optic nerve. I, investing membrane of the 
 tubercula quadrigemina. B B' B", group of visual cells. C C C" group 
 of motor cells. D D' D" group of visual cells in the hemispheres. E E'E" 
 group of granules. P E' F" volitional cells of the hemispheres. N N N, 
 etc., connecting nerve fibres, cf cf, etc., communicating nerve fibres. 
 
 the image of a dagger, and of a hand holding it, 
 has been impressed, as have also the data, as to the 
 form, position, size, distance, color, and the like 
 (of the dagger and its holder), which it is the 
 
86 VISIONS. 
 
 office of the eye to collect and transmit (vide pp. 
 54, 64). A A' A" are bundles of nerve filaments of 
 the optic nerve, by which the retina telegraphs 
 the impressions made upon it to a group of visual 
 cells, B B' B" in the tubercula quadrigemina, 
 where sight, but not perfected vision, occurs. 
 Each distinct visual impression goes by a separate 
 track to a separate cell. From the group of vis- 
 ual cells, a stimulus passes to a group of motor 
 cells, C C C", by which sight is coordinated with 
 the muscular movements of the eye and with 
 those of the whole body, so far as these are called 
 into action. At the same moment a stimulus 
 passes from the visual cells, B B' B", to a group 
 of cells D D' D", in the centre of vision in the 
 hemispheres, where perfected or intelligent vis- 
 ion occurs. Simultaneously with the passage of 
 these two currents of stimulation, a third passes 
 from the visual group, B B' B", to a group of 
 granules, E E' E", and by decomposing them, lib- 
 erates an amount of nervous energy proportionate 
 to the intensity of the stimulus. The energy 
 thus liberated flows through the conducting nerve 
 fibres N N N, to the motor group C C C", and 
 increases the action of that centre ; it also flows 
 back to the visual group B B' B", and yields 
 force to that j and by means of anastomosing 
 nerve fibres supplies force wherever force is 
 needed. From D D' D", the centre of vision in 
 the hemispheres, an influence passes to F F' F", 
 the hypothetical centre of volition, and excites 
 
VISIONS. 87 
 
 Ehe will. The will sends down through N N N 
 a volitional impulse to the motor-centre C C C", 
 stimulates that to increased effort, and also, by 
 means of communicating fibres, cfcfcfy etc., acts 
 on various centres of voluntary motion so as to 
 bring the whole body into needful activity. In 
 like manner, the impression made upon the cen- 
 tre of vision in the hemispheres is diffused by the 
 nerve fibres cf cf cf, etc., in accordance with 
 Bain's law of diffusion, throughout the gray mat- 
 ter of the brain, and arouses the intellect and the 
 emotions as well as the will. 
 
 This scheme of visual and cerebral action is, 
 of course, hypothetical. Whoever will take the 
 trouble to compare it with our present knowledge 
 of the anatomy and functions of the brain will 
 admit, not only that it is a possible one, but that 
 portions of it are probable, and that the truth of 
 some of it has been demonstrated. It will serve, 
 at any rate, to illustrate some of the recognized 
 forms of cerebral activity, the aid of which will 
 be invoked by and by in explanation of the phe- 
 nomena of pseudopia. 
 
 Nature is always economical of her resources 
 and delights in the distribution of labor. This is 
 strikingly illustrated by the process of vision which 
 we are studying. Notwithstanding the abundant 
 preparation in the tubercula quadrigemina for op- 
 erating upon visual impressions, only a portion 
 of the work is done there. It has previously been 
 stated that the eye is chai'ged with tlie duty of 
 
88 VISIONS. 
 
 ascertaining the color, form, size, distance, posi- 
 tion, and movement of bodies, and of reporting 
 the result to the tubercular station. The optic 
 tubercles take up the process of vision, where the 
 eyes leave it, and elaborate, and coordinate visual 
 impressions, in the manner previously described, 
 but they do not repeat, or authenticate the work 
 of the eyes. Simple facts and combinations, which 
 are ascertained by the eye, are themselves recom- 
 pounded by the tubercles into higher combina- 
 tions. " The eye, by its optical function, takes 
 in grades of light and shade, mixtures of white 
 and dark in the series of grays, and varieties of 
 color. A good eye might have several hundreds 
 of distinct optical gradations in these various ef- 
 fects. But the eye shows its great compass in 
 the plurality of combinations of points or surfaces 
 of different light, making up what are commonly 
 called images : compounds of visible form (muscu- 
 lar) and visible groupings (optical). The multi- 
 tude of these that can be distinctly embodied and 
 remembered would seem to defy computation ; yet 
 every one must have its own track in that laby- 
 rinth of fibres and corpuscles called the brain." ^ 
 
 The millions of cells, granules, and fibres, which 
 constitute the visual apparatus, enable every pos- 
 sible visual impression and gradation of impression 
 to follow its own track to the brain, and to have its 
 own cell, or group of cells, in which to be depos- 
 ited and preserved, and from which it may be 
 
 1 Bain, op. cit., p. 99. 
 
VISIONS. 89 
 
 derived. It is evident that this distribution 
 of labor, in accordance with which the eyes, the 
 optic tubercles, and the hemispheres, all perform 
 their own part in the process of vision, and which 
 requires each lower station, or bureau, to report 
 only its results to a higher station, increases ac- 
 curacy of work, and, by economizing conducting 
 lines and sensory cells, affords an almost infinite 
 opportunity for the employment of separate tracks. 
 For the purpose of meteorological investigations, 
 a dozen or a hundred stations collect, by means 
 of thermometers, barometers, hygrometers, and 
 the like, all necessary atmospheric data and re- 
 port them to a central bureau, where they become 
 the basis of comparison and coordination. The 
 outlying stations are the eyes, and the central 
 bureau, which collates the data, are the optic 
 tubercles of meteorology. When we see a rose, 
 the eye, by means of millions of retinal cells and 
 tubes, ascertains its color and shading, form, size, 
 position, and similar data, and reports them to the 
 tubercles; this report is a visual impression or 
 stimulus, which sets in motion the tubercular 
 apparatus, and is the first intimation which con- 
 sciousness receives of the presence and properties 
 of the rose. 
 
 Entering the domain of consciousness naturally 
 suggests the consideration of the second question 
 already proposed ; namely, what is the kind of 
 visual perception, which consciousness takes cog- 
 
90 VISIONS. 
 
 nizance of in the tubercula quadrigemina ? What 
 sort of conscious sight goes on there ? Wherein 
 does it differ, if it differs at all, from vision in 
 the hemispheres ? 
 
 It is only within a comparatively recent period 
 that any attempts have been made to answer this 
 question. Indeed, the question could not have 
 been raised twenty years ago ; for physiology had 
 not then advanced sufficiently to admit of its be- 
 ing asked. Latterly it has been raised, and phys- 
 iologists have undertaken to answer it by exper- 
 imental researches. Let us look at the answer 
 which their investigations give. 
 
 E. Fournie injected the optic thalami of a dog, 
 so as to destroy the communication between them, 
 together with the optic tubercles and the hemi- 
 spheres, with one drop of a solution of chloride of 
 zinc. The following, according to his report, was 
 the result of his experiment : " Feeling, except 
 the sense of vision, appeared in this animal to be 
 uninjured. I am inclined to think, however, that 
 if he appeared insensible to the approach of a 
 candle, he was so, because he did not recognize 
 the character of the object and not because he did 
 not see it. In fact the injection had destroyed 
 the fibres, which transmit optic perceptions to the 
 cortical periphery, and which reciprocally trans- 
 mit the excitement of the cortical periphery to 
 the optic thalami, in order to arouse perceptions 
 of memory in the latter. It is possible that the 
 
VISIONS. 91 
 
 sense of vision was preserved ; the animal saw 
 but did not understand, and remained passive. " ^ 
 
 In the following experiments, conducted by the 
 same observer, visual impressions were limited to 
 the tubercula quadrigemina and optic thalami by 
 destroying the hemispheres. It will be noticed 
 that Fourni^ assigns to the optic thalami some of 
 the functions which other physiologists assign to 
 the optic tubercles. For our present purpose, 
 this is not important. It is sufficient to know 
 that some sort of visual impression and visual 
 perception occurs in one or both of these regions, 
 and that it differs from the visual action of the 
 hemispheres. The experiments were eight. This 
 account of them is that they " were performed on 
 both hemispheres ; consequently they were as com- 
 plete as possible. The seat of the injection was 
 variable, though we operated regularly on the an- 
 terior, the lateral and middle, and the jjosterior 
 regions. In no instance were the phenomena of 
 simple perception abolished. The animals always 
 smelt, felt, saw, tasted, and touched, and thus in- 
 dicated that the phenomena of simple perception 
 are manifested in the optic thalami. On the other 
 hand, the absence of knowledge and memory was 
 constant. The animals, for example, saw a wall, 
 but did not recognize that it was an ©bstacle, and 
 that contact with it would be painful. They per- 
 mitted a lighted sulphur match to be brought 
 
 1 Recherches Expe'rimentales, sur le Fonctionnenient du Cerveau. 
 Par le Dr. Edouard Fournie. Paris, 1873. 
 
92 VISIONS. 
 
 near them without turning the head aside, forget- 
 ting that sulphur irritates the olfactory membrane. 
 They moved to the right or left, with the gait 
 of animals which do not know where they are, or 
 what they are doing ; the organic reservoir of the 
 association of acquired notions had been destroyed, 
 and in consequence of this destruction, memory 
 was no longer possible. They felt by all their 
 senses, for to feel is to live, after a fashion, when 
 the optic thalarai are uninjured ; but they did not 
 unite feeling with knowledge, for in order to do 
 this, it is necessary that the optic thalami should 
 receive a stimulus from the cortical periphery of 
 the brain." ^ 
 
 Dalton, who has repeated Longet's experiment 
 of removing the hemispheres in pigeons, and con- 
 firmed Longet's results, says : " The effect of this 
 mutilation is simply to plunge the animal into a 
 state of profound stupor, in which he is almost 
 entirely inattentive to surrounding objects. The 
 bird remains sitting motionless upon his perch, or 
 standing upon the ground, with the eyes closed 
 and the head sunk between the shoulders. The 
 plumage is smooth and glossy, but is uniformly 
 expanded, by a kind of erection of the feathers, 
 so that the body appears somewhat puffed out, 
 and larger than natural. Occasionally the bird 
 opens his eyes with a vacant stare, stretches his 
 neck, perhaps shakes his bill once or twice, or 
 smooths down the feathers upon his shoulders, and 
 
 ^ Fournie, Recherckes, p. 88. 
 
VISIONS. 93 
 
 then relapses into his former apathetic condition. 
 This state of immobility, however, is not accom- 
 panied by the loss of sight, of hearing, or of ordi- 
 nary sensibility. All these functions remain, as 
 well as that "of voluntary motion. If a pistol be 
 discharged behind the back of the animal, he at 
 once opens his eyes, moves his head half round, 
 and gives evident signs of having heard the re- 
 port ; but he immediately becomes quiet again, 
 and pays no further attention to it. Sight is also 
 retained, since the bird will sometimes fix its eye 
 on a particular object, and watch it for several 
 seconds together. Longet has even found that by 
 moving a lighted candle before the animal's eyes, 
 in a dark place, the head of the bird will often 
 follow the movements of the candle from side to 
 side, or in a circle, showing that the impression 
 of light is actually perceived by the sensorium. 
 Ordinary sensation also remains, after removal of 
 the hemispheres, together with voluntary niotion- 
 If the foot be pinched with a pair of forceps, the 
 bird becomes partially aroused, moves uneasily 
 once or twice from side to side, and is evidently 
 annoyed at the irritation." 
 
 " The animal is still capable, therefore, after 
 removal of the hemispheres, of receiving sensa- 
 tions from external objects. But these sensations 
 appear to make upon him no lasting impression. 
 He is incapable of connecting with his perceptions 
 any distinct succession of ideas. He hears, for 
 example, the report of a pistol, but he is not 
 
94 VISIONS. 
 
 alarmed by it, for the sound, though distinctly 
 enough perceived, does not suggest any idea of 
 danger or injury. There is accordingly no power 
 of forming mental associations, nor of perceiving 
 the relation between external objects. The mem- 
 ory, more particularly, is altogether destroyed, and 
 the recollection of sensation is not retained from 
 one moment to another. The limbs and mus- 
 cles are still under the control of the will ; but 
 the will itself is inactive, because apparently it 
 lacks its usual mental stimulus and direction. 
 The powers which have been lost, therefore, by 
 destruction of the cerebral hemispheres, are alto- 
 gether of a mental or intellectual character ; that 
 is, the power of comparing with each other differ- 
 ent ideas, and of perceiving the proper relation 
 between them." ^ 
 
 Referring to the manifestations of intellectual 
 power and voluntary effort in decapitated animals, 
 Wundt, whose exhaustive researches and judi- 
 cial tone entitle his views to great respect, uses 
 the following language : " In this respect, animals 
 which retain the tubercula quadrigemina and 
 optic thalami uninjured, undoubtedly behave pre- 
 cisely as if decapitated. It is true, that as a rule 
 they remain sitting or standing upright ; but the 
 muscular tension, which enables them to main- 
 tain such an attitude, is evidently the direct re- 
 flex result of a persistent and uninterrupted im- 
 pression made upon the skin. Moreover, there 
 
 1 Dalton, Physiolog!/,^l>. 421, 422. 
 
VISIONS. 95 
 
 is no liint of any movement, not referable di- 
 rectly to external irritation. A pigeon whose 
 cerebral lobes have been removed, and a frog 
 whose hemispheres have been separated from the 
 optic tubercles, will remain for days continuously 
 motionless on the same spot. But if, however, 
 only a small portion of the cerebral lobee is left 
 iminjured, all spontaneous movement is not ex- 
 tinguished ; and in such a case spontaneous move- 
 ment may be almost completely reestablished by 
 means of the extensive transference of function, 
 of which the different parts of the cortex are ca- 
 pable. There have never been observed in com- 
 plete absence of the superior portion of the brain, 
 and of the cortex covering it, any vital manifes- 
 tations which could be clearly interpreted as 
 spontaneous, and not as movements directly de- 
 pendent on external irritation. Hence, we may 
 unhesitatingly affirm that in such animals, the 
 reproduction of perceptions, which previously ex- 
 isted, is impossible ; for such reproduction must 
 necessarily lead, now and then, to corresponding 
 movements. At the same time the conscious as- 
 sociation of ideas by which an existing impression 
 is referred back to antecedent perceptions, is 
 altogether excluded. Yet here, as in the case of 
 the spinal cord, it cannot be denied that a certain 
 low grade of consciousness may be established, 
 which will permit the preservation of impressions 
 for a very short time. Only it must be remem- 
 bered that such a consciousness contributes noth- 
 
96 VISIONS. 
 
 ing to the explanation of movements. These 
 always carry with themselves the stamp of true 
 reflex action, produced directly by external irrita- 
 tion. Like all reflex action, they depend upon a 
 simple mechanical series of antecedents, which, 
 owing to the extraordinary perfection of constant 
 automatic supervision, secure an appropriate adap- 
 tation of movement to impression." ^ 
 
 Ferrier's experiments on frogs have already been 
 cited, which led him to the conclusion that so far 
 as experiments on these animals are of value in 
 such an inquiry, intellection, memory, and volition 
 are functions of the hemispheres, and not of the 
 tubercula quadrigemina. This conclusion he has 
 strengthened by a large number of delicate and 
 ingenious experiments on other animals, especially 
 on monkeys, and by his investigations has con- 
 firmed the views of Fourni^, Dalton, and Wundt, 
 which have just been presented. He says : " With 
 the exception of the greater degree of muscular 
 paralysis and the diminished power of accommo- 
 dation of movements in accordance with sensory 
 impressions, in general, and with visual impres- 
 sions in particular, the phenomena manifested by 
 rodents deprived of their cerebral hemispheres, 
 diifer little from those already described in frogs, 
 fishes, and birds. The power of maintaining the 
 equilibrium is retained, coordinated locomotive 
 actions and emotional manifestations are capable 
 of being excited by impressions on sensory nerves, 
 1 Wundt, Physiologischen Psychologic, p. 829, etc. 
 
VISIONS. 97 
 
 essentially, if not altogether to the same extent in 
 all." 1 
 
 It is a difficult matter to reason correctly from 
 experiments on the comparatively simple mechan- 
 ism of the lower animals to the functions of the 
 higher ones ; and the difficulty is increased when 
 we ascend still higher, and endeavor to unravel 
 the intricacies of the nervous system of man by 
 an appeal to that of animals. Still, if due cau- 
 tion be employed, this method of inquiry is a legit- 
 imate one, and yields important results. Upon 
 this point the observer just quoted, remarks : 
 " When we pass from the consideration of the 
 functions which the lower centres in frogs, fishes, 
 and birds are capable of performing, independ- 
 ently of the cerebral hemispheres, to the effects of 
 removal of the hemispheres in mammals, we have 
 to deal with phenomena of a more varied charac- 
 ter. We have seen that frogs, fishes, and birds, 
 deprived of their cerebral hemispheres, continue 
 to perform actions in many respects differing little, 
 if at all, from those manifested by the same an- 
 imals under absolutely normal conditions. But 
 the results in the case of mammals, are far from 
 exhibiting the same degree of uniformity. Dif- 
 ferences of a marked character exist, according tc 
 the age of the animals experimented c"j, and the 
 order to which they belong. If we were to draw 
 conclusions from experiments on one order of ani- 
 mals, and extend them, without due qualification, 
 1 Ferrier, Functions, etc., p. 39. 
 7 
 
98 VISIONS. 
 
 to animals in general, and particularly to man, we 
 should be in danger of falling into serious errors. 
 The neglect of such considerations has been a 
 fruitful source of discrepancies and contradictions 
 between individual physiologists, and between the 
 facts of experimental physiology and those fur- 
 nished by clinical and pathological research." ^ 
 
 This difficulty would be diminished if it were 
 possible to subject the cerebro-spinal system of 
 man, like that of animals, to experimental investi- 
 gation ; but this cannot be done. Occasionally, 
 however, disease produces in the nerve centres a 
 local lesion, which fulfils all the conditions of an 
 experiment, and from which, of course, correspond- 
 ing conclusions can be drawn. Whenever this has 
 occurred under the eye of a competent observer, 
 it has been found to confirm the results of experi- 
 ments on animals. Charcot reports the case of a 
 female, seventy-six years old, who died of a pneu- 
 monia of only two days' duration, in whom, at 
 the post-mortem examination, the left cerebral 
 hemisphere proved to be healthy, while the right 
 contained a patch of softening which had de- 
 stroyed the inferior, parietal lobule of the pli 
 courhe (angular gyrus), the posterior half of the 
 island of Reil, and the two first temporal convolu- 
 tions. Before her pneumonia, this patient " got 
 up every day and walked without diflBculty. She 
 even walked from her dormitory to the infirmary. 
 While in the ward it was ascertained that the 
 
 I Ferrier, op. cit., p. 37. 
 
VISIONS. 99 
 
 muscular strength of her hands was equal. She 
 did not squint, nor exhibit any notable disturb- 
 ance of vision." ^ The same observer quotes from 
 M. Baraduc the case of a man in whom the two 
 frontal lobes were altered to a large extent by a 
 lesion which occupied on each side the first, 
 second, and third frontal convolutions. " The 
 patient, whose brain presented these alterations, 
 had been for six years in the Hospice des Me- 
 nages. He exhibited, no sort of will or sponta- 
 neity. He walked every day in a hap-hazard 
 manner, without any apparent motive, and ran 
 against whatever objects were in his way. He 
 died of bronchitis, and up to his last moments 
 preserved the muscular force and sensibility of 
 the two halves of his body." ^ The condition of 
 this person, in whom the hemispheres had been 
 so lai'gely destroyed, resembled in a remarkable 
 degree that previously described of frogs, pigeons, 
 and monkeys, deprived of their hemispheres. Lo- 
 comotion, sight, muscular powers, and coordina- 
 tion were preserved, but spontaneous movement, 
 memory, and intellectual activity were absent. 
 He saw the form of objects, but did not recognize 
 or appreciate their relations to himself or to other 
 objects. The process of vision was arrested be- 
 fore it was completed in the hemispheres. These 
 two cases confirm, so far as they go, the trust- 
 
 1 Revue Mensuelle de Mededne et de Chirurgie, January, 1877, 
 p. 10. Art. by Charcot et Pitres. 
 
 2 Revue Mensuelle, ut supra, p. 14. 
 
100 VISIONS. 
 
 worthiness of the method of studying the nervous 
 system of man by that of animals, and conse- 
 quently of the deductions, drawn in this essay, as 
 to the visual functions of the tubercula quadri- 
 gemina and hemispheres in man, from experi- 
 mental researches on animals. 
 
 It appears from the foregoing considerations, 
 that intellection, memory, and volition must be 
 eliminated from that part of the process of vision 
 which resides in the optic tubercles, and which 
 constitutes their chief function. It is not clear, 
 however, that emotion can be so distinctly sepa- 
 rated from them. Emotion is largely, if not exclu- 
 sively instinctive, and the central mechanism of 
 instincts is in the basal ganglia. We had occasion 
 to observe, when describing the coordinating func- 
 tion of the tubercles and optic thalami (p. 73), 
 that there were strong presumptions in favor of 
 the hypothesis of the coordination of visual im- 
 pressions with emotional, as well as with muscular 
 action, in the tubercular region. The following 
 experiment of Vulpian, quoted by Ferrier, illus- 
 trates and strengthens this hypothesis. Physiolo- 
 gists say that the rat is exceptionally emotional ; 
 that it is a peculiarly sensitive, if not sentimental 
 creature, and therefore admirably adapted to ex- 
 periments intended to bring oat emotional expres- 
 sion. Vulpian placed one before his class in his 
 lectures, and calling attention to its emotional 
 characteristics, remarked : "It is very timid, very 
 impressionable ; it bounds away at the slightest 
 
VISIONS. 101 
 
 touch ; the slightest sound causes it to start. A 
 whistle, or a sharp hiss, like the angiy spit of 
 a cat, excites in it vivid emotions. Before you is 
 a rat, from which I have removed the cerebral 
 hemispheres. You see it remains perfectly quiet. 
 I now whistle with the lips, and you see the ani- 
 mal has made a sudden start. Each time I repeat 
 the same sound you behold the same effect. Those 
 of you who have studied the expression of emo- 
 tion in the rat will recognize the complete iden- 
 tity of these with the ordinary emotional manifes- 
 tations of this animal." ^ In this instance, an 
 auditory impression, made upon the basal ganglia 
 and prevented, by ablation of the hemispheres, 
 from going higher, excited the emotion of fear. 
 
 These experiments and clinical and pathologi- 
 cal observations lead inevitably to the conclusion, 
 that the kind of visual perception, which occurs 
 in the tubercula quadrigemina, is of a purely 
 mechanical or automatic character. The ideas, 
 thoughts, memories, and volitions, which visual 
 impressions produce or awaken, form no part of 
 the perceptive function of the tubercles. As soon 
 as a visual telegram is received by them from 
 the eye, the message is distributed to the vari- 
 ous motor, visual, and emotional centres with which 
 the tubercles are in communication, but the mes- 
 sage is forwarded without being understood. Just 
 as we have seen in the simplest form of ganglionic 
 action that a ganglion, as soon as it has received 
 
 1 Ferrier, Functions, etc., p. 69. 
 
102 VISIONS. 
 
 through a sensory nerve notice of a sensation, 
 sends out a motor stimulus, without any more 
 comprehension or perception of what it is doing 
 than an ieolian harp has of the process or power 
 by which its strings send out music in response to 
 the touch of the wind, so the optic tubercles re- 
 ceive a visual impression, and send out in various 
 directions an appropriate response, without any 
 intelligent perception of what has touched them, 
 or to what issues their action tends. Conscious- 
 ness recognizes the fact, whenever the tubercles 
 receive and send forward a visual impression, by 
 means of a telegram, that such an occurrence has 
 taken place in that region, but it looks to the hem- 
 ispheres for information as to the nature of the 
 impression. If there is any consciousness in the 
 tubercles, it is of that low grade to which Wundt 
 refers as existing in all automatic centres, and as 
 disconnected from memory and spontaneity. 
 
 The foregoing study of the functions of the 
 tubercula quadrigemina has cleared away a good 
 deal of the difficulty and obscurity which have 
 hitherto enveloped them ; and it indicates, perhaps 
 it may be said that it demonstrates, the following 
 conclusions : — 
 
 1. The tubercula quadrigemina are a visual 
 centre, charged with the office of receiving visual 
 impressions from the eye, and of forwarding them 
 when received to certain motor centres and to the 
 hemispheres. 
 
 2. The visual impressions received by the tu- 
 
VISIONS. 103 
 
 bercula quadrigemina are not physically the same 
 as those made upou the retina of the eye, but are 
 the result of a stimulus, which, propagated along 
 the optic nerve, produces a peculiar molecular ac- 
 tion in the tubercles. 
 
 3. Every object, color, and grouping of objects, 
 capable of affecting the eye, produces in the tu- 
 bercula quadrigemina a definite sort of chemical, 
 mechanical, or thermal change, which is the hiero- 
 glyphic or cipher of that object, color, or grouping, 
 and is the representative of no other object, color, 
 or grouping. 
 
 4. The tubercula quadrigemina coordinate sight 
 with irido-ocular movements, and, aided b}'^ the 
 optic thalami, with all muscular movements, 
 whether of locomotion or otherwise, for the per- 
 fect and harmonious performance of which sight 
 is necessary. 
 
 5. If the tubercula quadrigemina are separated 
 from the hemispheres by the destruction of the 
 latter, or by interrupting the communication be- 
 tween these two regions, the tubercles are still 
 capable of performing their functions independ- 
 ently ; and, conversely, if they are destroyed, the 
 hemispheres remaining uninjured, blindness, loss 
 of irido-ocular coordination, and imperfect coordi- 
 nation of the general muscular system result. 
 
 6. Simple perception of light and of visible 
 objects is a function of the tubercula quadrigem- 
 ina, but it is perception, without memory, intellec- 
 tion, or volition ; \Yithout any recognition of the 
 character or relations of tlie objects seen. 
 
104 VISIONS. 
 
 7. The tubercula quad ri gem ina are essential to 
 the process of vision, but are not centres of con- 
 scious vision. 
 
 VISUAL CENTRE OP THE HEMISPHEEES. — AN- 
 GULAR GYRUS. — PLI COURBE. 
 
 The third station on the way from the eye to 
 the frontal lobes of the brain, from the objective 
 world of matter to the subjective world of ideas, 
 from the not me to the me, is the angular gyrus, 
 or centre of vision in the hemispheres. Here see- 
 ing really takes place. Here, deep in the recesses 
 of the brain, is the true world of vision and of 
 visions, — the sphere where is spread before the 
 mind all the wonder which light reveals, and 
 where pseudopia plays its strangest freaks. The 
 innumerable visual impressions, which, made upon 
 the eye, are afterwards appropriately classified 
 and variously coordinated by the tubercula quad- 
 rigemina, are sent up to this centre, here to be 
 still further elaborated ; brought into relation with 
 the highest mental powers ; made to subserve the 
 processes of ideation ; pressed into the cells of 
 memory ; and fitted to excite the will. It is with 
 the grouping of cells in the angular gyrus that we 
 see, and not with our eyes. 
 
 Until recently there has been a profound disa- 
 greement upon the question of the localization of 
 motor and other functions in the cerebral lobes, 
 between the results of experimental physiology 
 and the facts of clinical observation. The former 
 
VISIONS. 105 
 
 have affirmed that the cortical substance of the 
 brain was an inexcitable unit, which possessed 
 and exhibited the same properties in all its parts ; 
 the latter produced a series of cases of lesions, 
 limited to definite localities in the cortical sub- 
 stance, which gave rise to definite and peculiar 
 functional derangements. As a natural conse- 
 quence of disagreement upon such an essential 
 point, two distinct theories were put forth and 
 defended with regard to it. One maintained 
 the inexcitability and solidarity of the cerebral 
 lobes, and declared that " the intellectual and 
 perceptive faculties reside in the cerebral lobes ; 
 coordination of movements of locomotion in the 
 cerebellum ; and direct excitation of muscular con- 
 traction in the spinal cord and its nerves 
 
 The organ by which an animal perceives and 
 wills neither coordinates nor excites ; the organ 
 which coordinates does not excite ; and recipro- 
 cally, the organ which excites does not coordi- 
 nate."^ The other theory, first definitely pi-o- 
 pounded by Gall, and afterwards elaborated by 
 Spurzheim, acquired the name of phrenology, and 
 made of the brain a sort of delicate mosaic work, 
 divided into as many separate organs as there are 
 cerebral functions. The facts of clinical experi- 
 ence and numerous physiological observations were 
 opposed to each of these extremes. There were 
 
 1 Flourens, Recherches Exp^rimentales sur Ics Proprie'fe's et les 
 Fonctions du Systeme Nerveux dans les Aniinaux VerMbr^s, 2* ed., 
 Paris, 1842, preface, p. xiii. 
 
106 VISIONS. 
 
 sound and philosophical students of the nervous 
 system, who suspected that the truth lay between 
 the two, where it would one day be discovered. 
 One of the soundest of them, Andral, remarked 
 years ago : " In face of so many facts, which, in 
 alterations of the brain, continually point to its 
 most diverse parts for an explanation of the dis- 
 turbance of a single function, shall we deny that 
 certain portions of the encephalon are specially 
 devoted to the performance of certain acts ? We 
 have no right to do so ; for it is probable, that 
 certain points of the brain have such a mutual 
 connection, that a lesion of one reacts in a special 
 manner upon another ; and it may be that it is 
 this secondary alteration, inappreciable by the 
 scalpel, which produces some special functional 
 disorder." ^ 
 
 Within the last few years the labors of Fritsch 
 and Hitzig in Germany, of Hughlings Jackson 
 and Ferrier in England, of Carville and Duret 
 and Charcot in France, have accomplished a great 
 deal towards reconciling the result of experiment 
 with the facts of pathology, and have shown that 
 the brain is neither the inexcitable unit of Flou- 
 rens, nor the mosaic work of Gall. They have 
 shown that there are certain regions in the human 
 brain, which contain centres of various motor and 
 sensory activities ; and other regions, which, even 
 if they are charged with diverse functions, are 
 so intimately connected with each other that they 
 1 Andral, Clinique Medicate, tome v., p. 195. 
 
VISIONS. 107 
 
 «tct harmoniously as a unit.^ The centre of vision 
 in the hemispheres, christened by the anatomists 
 the anguhir gyrus, and called by the French, on 
 account of its shape, the pU courhe, is one of these 
 recently defined regions which is of great impor- 
 tance in our present inquiry, and to which we 
 must now turn our attention. 
 
 The evidence which has been adduced proves 
 conclusively that the process of vision, which 
 commences in the eye and is afterwards carried on 
 by the tubercula quadrigemina, is not completed 
 by these ganglia, but has some other organ or 
 region for its full and final development. This 
 has long been suspected, or rather believed, by 
 physiologists, but it was not known till recently 
 whether a visual impression, after leaving the 
 optic tubercles, spreads itself for the inspection 
 and use of the mind over the whole cortical sub- 
 stance of a hemisphere, or is confined to a def- 
 inite centre in that substance, from which it radi- 
 ates in every direction. The discovery by experi- 
 mental investigation that cerebral vision is cen- 
 tred in the angular gyrus has put that question 
 at rest. 
 
 1 The speculations of the ancients upon the functions of the 
 brain were sometimes singularly near the truth, of which the 
 demonstration was reserved for later and in some instances for 
 recent times. Tluis Hippocrates taught that, " It is by the braiu 
 we think, understand, see and hear, know ugliness and beauty, 
 evil and good, pleasure and pain ; .... it is by the braiu that 
 insanity and delirium, fear and terror, groundless error and mo- 
 *:iveless anxiety beset us." — (Euvres Completes d' Hippocrates, 
 \raduction par E. Littre, tome vi., p. 387. Paris. 
 
108 VISIONS. 
 
 The angular gyrus, according to Ferrier, is a 
 section of the parietal lobe of the brain, situated 
 below the intro-parietal sulcus, and a little pos- 
 terior to the horizontal branch of the fissure of 
 Sylvius. It bends in a fold or arch, and hence its 
 French appellation, pU courhe., over and around 
 the temporo-sphenoidal convolution in which is 
 the auditory centre. In close proximity to it are 
 the centres of smell and taste, as well as the tac- 
 tile centre. So that this region contains as near 
 anatomical neighbors, the centres, or centric ter- 
 minal stations of the five senses of sight, hearing, 
 smell, taste, and touch. It is a region, in which 
 these senses bring the whole external world into 
 immediate contact with the mind ; a region, where 
 matter assumes its most immaterial, and mind its 
 most material condition ; and where, if anywhere, 
 mind and matter touch each other, and react on 
 each other. 
 
 The angular gyrus is shown to be the visual 
 centre of the hemispheres by two series of ex- 
 perimental investigations which supplement each 
 other. One series presents the results following 
 its destruction, and the other those following its 
 stimulation in living animals. The effect of stim- 
 ulating it by an electric current is to produce phe- 
 nomena which " seem to be merely reflex move- 
 ments, consequent on the excitation of subjective 
 visual sensation." ^ That is, stimulation of the 
 angular gyrus in a monkey, dog, cat, or other 
 1 Ferrier, op. cit., p. 164, Am. ed. 
 
VISIONS. 109 
 
 aniiual, produces subjective pseudopia, which is 
 accompanied with nipvements of the eyeball, con- 
 traction of the pupil, closure of the eyelids, and 
 other efforts, indicating a desire on the part of the 
 subject of the experiment to escape from some 
 disagreeable visual impression. This fact of the 
 artificial production of subjective pseudopia is 
 one of great importance in our present inquiry. 
 It will be referred to again by and by. 
 
 Destruction of the angular gyrus (on one 
 side) temporarily annihilates the visual function. 
 " The loss of vision is complete, but is not perma- 
 nent if the angular gyrus of the opposite hemis- 
 phere remains intact ; compensation rapidly tak- 
 ing place, so that vision is again possible with 
 either eye as before. On destruction of the angu- 
 lar gyrus in both hemispheres, however, the loss 
 of vision is complete and permanent, so long, at 
 least, as it is possible to maintain the animal un- 
 der observation. When the lesion is accurately 
 circumscribed in the angular gyrus, the loss of 
 vision is the only effect observable, all the other 
 senses and the powers of voluntary motion remain- 
 ing unaffected.! 
 
 There is an apparent discrepancy between this 
 statement, that destruction of the angular gyrus 
 in each hemisphere completely destroys vision 
 and the statement previously made that sight 
 may exist in the tubercula quadrigemina, after 
 destruction of the hemispheres. Both of these 
 1 Ferrier, op. cit., p. 164. 
 
110 VISIONS. 
 
 statements are correct. The experiments which 
 have been detailed show thiit, in living animals, 
 ablation of the hemispheres, which of course in- 
 cludes ablation of the angular gyri, leaving the 
 lower visual centres intact, is followed by loss of 
 vision ; and, moreover, that destruction of the tu- 
 bercula quadrigemina, leaving the hemispheres in- 
 tact, is in like manner followed by loss of vision. 
 They also show that visual perception persists 
 after ablation of the hemispheres, the tubercles 
 remaining ; and that it persists after destruction 
 of the tubei'cles, the hemispheres remaining. Such 
 are the results of experimental investigation, and 
 they are not irreconcilable with each other. The 
 discrepancy is only apparent. It arises, to a great 
 extent, from want of precision in the use of lan- 
 guage ; or, more exactly, from not attaching pre- 
 cise ideas to the language we employ. 
 
 The contradiction will disappear, and the re- 
 sults harmonize with each other, if we bear in 
 mind the distinction which has been established 
 between the various kinds of visual perception. 
 We have endeavored to emphasize the fact, to put 
 it in as clear a light as possible, that the process 
 of vision consists of several stages ; and that each 
 stage has its own sort of seeing, its own sort of 
 visual perception, of which the others do not par- 
 take. The seeing of the retina of the eye consists 
 ■of impressions, unrecognized by consciousness, 
 made upon its cells and tubes by waves of light. 
 The seeing of the tubercula quadrigemina consists 
 
VISIONS. Ill 
 
 in receiving and appropriately distributing a vis- 
 ual message, and of doing so within the domain of 
 consciousness, but without the domain of memory, 
 intellect, and volition. The seeing of the angular 
 gyrus consists in receiving, apprehending, retain- 
 ing, and appi'opriately distributing a visual mes- 
 sage, forwarded by the tubercula quadrigemina, 
 and of doing this within the domains of con- 
 sciousness, memory, intellect, emotion, and voli- 
 tion. Sight in the eye is automatic and uncon- 
 scious. Sight in the tubercula quadrigemina is 
 automatic, sensori-motor, and attended with a low 
 grade of consciousness. Sight in the angular 
 gyrus is intelligent, ideo-motor, partially auto- 
 matic, and attended with the liighest grade of 
 consciousness. 
 
 If a complete section of the visual apparatus is 
 taken out, or a visual centre destroyed, all vision 
 between the point of destruction and the frontal 
 lobes is annihilated. No visual impression can 
 penetrate beyond the point of destruction ; a re- 
 sult which theoretically would be expected and 
 which experiment has demonstrated. On the 
 other hand, if a visual centre remains between the 
 point of destruction and the periphery, such a 
 centre, to which of course a visual impression can 
 penetrate, retains, for a time at least, its own spe- 
 cial visual powers ; it retains its own sort of sight. 
 This result, again, which theoretically would be 
 anticipated, has been experimentally confirmed. 
 If the eyes are taken out, no visual impression or 
 
ll2 VISIONS. 
 
 stimulus can penetrate to the tnbercula quadrige- 
 mina, angular gyrus, or frontal lobes, and arouse 
 them to action. If the angular gyrus is destroyed, 
 the stimulus of light can still ascend through the 
 eye to the optic tubercles, and excite the functions 
 of each of these organs. This can be done till 
 they become atrophied from want of use, and 
 then, of course, all vision is impossible. When 
 we remember that no memory, intellection, or vo- 
 lition can be excited by a visual impression till it 
 reaches the angular gyrus, we can easily under- 
 stand why destruction of this centre, like ablation 
 of the two hemispheres, should apparently produce 
 total loss of every sort of visual perception. A 
 function which is performed without consciousness 
 or memory is practically abolished. An animal, 
 which has been deprived of the angular gyrus and 
 allowed to retain its optic tubercles, may see the 
 same object a thousand times, in as many succes- 
 sive seconds, minutes, or hours, but, unfurnished 
 with memory, it will fail to recognize th(^, object, 
 or comprehend its relations. Such an animal will 
 act as if it were blind, and practically it is blind. 
 It will look at food of which it is fond, and of 
 which it is in need, without making any effort to 
 get hold of the food. Its eye will follow a lighted 
 lamp, but it will not seek to avoid the flame, un- 
 less it feels the heat. Charcot's patient, in whom 
 disease had destroyed the angular gyrus, wandered 
 about in a hap-hazard manner ; seeing, yet acting 
 like a blind person. 
 
VISIONS. 113 
 
 These considerations are sufficient to explain 
 the apparent contradiction which has been men- 
 tioned, and to show that the results of experi- 
 mental investigation harmonize with, and support 
 each other. The explanation may be briefly stated 
 thus : Each visual centre has its own sort of visual 
 perception. The destruction of a lower centre 
 prevents a visual impression from ascending to a 
 higher centre, and therefore produces blindness. 
 The destruction of a higher centre leaves to each 
 lower centre a low gi'ade of visual perception, 
 which, being unaccompanied with memory, is also 
 practical blindness. 
 
 Fournie insists upon the distinction (which we 
 have pointed out) between the various kinds of 
 perception. It will illustrate our subject and re- 
 inforce our argument to compare his statement 
 with the preceding. 
 
 " In order," he says, " to comprehend the signification 
 of these experiments, we must not lose sight of the es- 
 sential distinction, which we have established, between 
 a simple perception, produced in the optic thalami and 
 a clear and definite perception (conception ?) produced 
 elsewhere. The latter is the result of an acquired ex- 
 perience, of an anterior comparison of two perceptions ; 
 it includes in a word, somewhat more than a simple 
 perception, and has also a different character. A simple 
 perception is produced by an exciting object, which has 
 just affected a sensitive nerve (this is all that objective 
 impressions can produce). A detailed perception («'. e., 
 conception) is the product of a cerebral element, which 
 
114 VISIONS. 
 
 has preserved the mark or trace of an intellectual effort, 
 by which two simple perceptions were previously com- 
 pared. This element is represented by millions of cells, 
 which are disseminated throughout the cortical periph- 
 ery of the brain, where they constitute the layer of 
 gray matter. These cells, contrary to the oj^inion of 
 some physiologists, and of M. Luys in particular, per- 
 ceive nothing of themselves. They represent a dynamic 
 movement, which alone possesses the power of exciting 
 in the optic thalami, the unique centre of perception, 
 a peculiar perception, or, in other words, an acquired 
 notion. This essential distinction, which we have just 
 established, gives us the key to memory, and enables us 
 to point out its mechanism from a theoretical, experi- 
 mental, and organic stand-point. To recollect one's self 
 is to state, in effect, that our present imjsression differs 
 from a former one, and in order to make such a state- 
 ment, the brain must have preserved somewhere the 
 trace of an anterior impression, to such an extent, that 
 the latter can reexcite the centre of perception. 
 
 " It is evident, if we recall the position which we have 
 assigned to the phenomena of perception in our classifi- 
 cation of the phenomena of life, that merely to feel is to 
 live, but that to feel and know is to cerebi'ate. Cabanis 
 was wrong, when he said, to live is to feel. It is pos- 
 sible to live for a time without feeling ; but feeling with- 
 out life is impossible. 
 
 "Acquired notions, then, are represented by the im- 
 pressionable cell elements which are distributed through- 
 out the cortical periphery of the brain. There they are 
 organically arranged without the intervention of the 
 will. They are associated with each other by the pro- 
 longations of cells, which are themselves so connected 
 
VISIONS. 115 
 
 as to be capable of reciprocally exciting each other's 
 activity, and of manifesting it, by exciting the centre of 
 perception in the optic thalami. These views, deduced 
 from a sound interpretation of the phenomena of life, 
 and from pathological observation, throw a large amount 
 of light upon mental operations, and on such psychical 
 affections as hallucination, mania, etc." ^ 
 
 The angular gyrus, like the tabercula quadri- 
 gemina, is composed of groups of corpuscles, gran- 
 ules of protoplasm, cells, enclosing nuclei and nu- 
 cleoli, interlacing nerve fibres, blood-vessels, and 
 connecting tissue. Of the manner in which these 
 constituent elements behave under the influence 
 of a visual impression (telegram) from the optic 
 tubercles, we know as little as we do of the be- 
 havior of similar elements in the tubercula quad- 
 rigemina or optic thalami under the same in- 
 fluence. The description which has been given of 
 the possible grouping of cells and development of 
 force through chemical, mechanical, thermal, or 
 nutritive change by means of which the reception 
 and forwarding of visual telegrams occur in the tu- 
 bercula quadrigemina, applies to the angular gyri, 
 so that it is unnecessary to rehearse the matter 
 here. It is important to remember, however, that 
 as the definite visual impression, which waves of 
 light make on the retina, is not transferred to the 
 optic tubercles, so in like manner the impression 
 made on these organs through the optic nerve, is 
 not transferred to the angular gyri ; a visual mes- 
 ^ Fournid, Recherches Exp€rimentales, op. cit., p. 87, etc. 
 
116 VISIONS. 
 
 sage is received, comprehended, and forwarded. 
 This is done by means of definite groupings of the 
 cells, or peculiar manifestations of the chemical 
 and other forces of each angular gyrus. The mil- 
 lions of cells in the gyri are amply sufficient to 
 afford a separate cipher for every possible visual 
 impression, and shade of impression, which ca*^ 
 visit the most sensitive and intelligent eye during 
 the longest life. 
 
 As we approach the higher cerebral centres we 
 meet with several physiological laws or habitudes, 
 which deserve consideration, and with which an 
 acquaintance is essential to a just appreciation of 
 the delicate and complex phenomena of the higher 
 ganglia of the nervous system, and especially of 
 the mechanism of orthopia and pseudopia. One 
 of the most interesting and important of these 
 laws is that which enables the cells of nerve cen- 
 tres to retain or register impressions. It may be 
 called the law or power of cerebral registration. 
 In accordance with it, impressions made on these 
 cells are retained with a definiteness and perma- 
 nence, proportional to the frequency and intensity 
 of the impressions. A single, feeble impression 
 leaves only a slight trace on the cells it reaches, 
 and one which it is possible may be sooner or 
 later obliterated. A single, strong impression 
 leaves a deeper and more lasting trace. An im- 
 pression, frequently repeated during a long period, 
 leaves a deep and permanent trace. In this way 
 the cerebral cells are modified by impressions 
 
VISIONS. 117 
 
 made upon them, and the modification becomes in 
 some unknown manner a part of the organization 
 of the centres affected, and one which persists, in 
 spite of the continual metamorphoses to which 
 they are subjected. As a cicatrix upon the skin, 
 following a burn or wound, will retain its place 
 and structure as a part of the skin, through all 
 the changes of growth and nutrition from child- 
 hood to old age, so a cerebral cell or group of cells 
 retains the type, whicli impressions have stamped 
 into it, through all the changes of cerebral devel- 
 opment and action. The millions of visual im- 
 pressions made on the cells of the angular gyri, 
 by the objective world, from childhood to old age 
 leave traces of greater or less distinctness there. 
 Some of these are slight and shadowy, and can 
 only be reproduced with difficulty, after the lapse 
 of any considerable period of time ; others are 
 stamped deeply and indelibly into the cell struc- 
 ture, and can be easily called into renewed activ- 
 ity, even after many years have passed by. 
 
 The subjective cerebral action resulting from 
 visual impressions, made upon the angular gyrus, 
 or telegraphed to it by the tubercula quadrigemi- 
 na, is one of the forms of special sensation, and 
 involves the highest grade of consciousness. It is 
 in fact open to the inspection of self-consciousness, 
 and furnishes motives and stimulants to the will. 
 Such a result does not follow the action which 
 light produces in the optical apparatus of the eye, 
 or of the optic tubercles. Self may be conscious 
 
118 VISIONS. 
 
 that the mechanism of these organs is at work, 
 but the subjective side of their action is not 
 reached till the angular gyri are put in motion. 
 Ferrier happily says : — 
 
 "The optical apparatus without the angular gyrus 
 may be compared to the camera without the sensitized 
 plate. The rays of light are focussed as usual, but pro- 
 duce no chemical action, and leave no trace when the 
 object is withdrawn, or the light from it shut off. The 
 angular gyrixs is like the sensitive plate. The cells un- 
 dergo certain molecular modifications, which coincide 
 with certain subjective changes constituting the con- 
 sciousness of the impression, or special visual sensation. 
 And as the sensitive plate records in certain chemical 
 decompositions, the form of the object presented to the 
 camera, so the angular gyrus records in cell modifica- 
 tions the visual characters of the object looked at. We 
 may push the analogy still further. Just as the chemi- 
 cal decomposition effected by the rays of light may be 
 fixed and form a permanent image of the object capable 
 of being looked at, so the cell modifications which coin- 
 cided with the presentation of the object to the eye, re- 
 main permanently, constituting the organic memory of 
 the object itself. When the same cell modifications are 
 again excited the object is re-presented or rises up in 
 idea. It is not meant by this analogy that the objects 
 are photographed in the angular gyrus, as objects are 
 photographed on the plate, but mei*ely that permanent 
 cell modifications are induced, which are the physiologi- 
 cal representatives of the optical characters of the ob- 
 ject presented to the eye. The optical characters are 
 purely light vibrations, and few objects are known by 
 
VISIONS. 11 9 
 
 these alone. The object appeals to other senses, and 
 perhaps to movements, and the idea of the object as a 
 whole is the revival of the cell modifications in each of 
 the centres concerned in the act of cognition. For what 
 is true of the angular gyrus, or sight centre, is true, 
 mutatis mutandis, of the other sensory centres. Each 
 is the organic basis of consciousness of its own special 
 sensory impressions, and each is the organic basis of the 
 memory of such imjDressions in the form of certain cell 
 modifications, the re-induction of which is the re-pre- 
 sentation or revival in idea of the individual sensory 
 characters of the object. The organic cohesion of these 
 elements by association renders it possible for the re- 
 excitation of the one set of characters to recall the 
 whole." 1 
 
 Not only is the angular gyrus capable of regis- 
 tering impressions, but it can reproduce them un- 
 der the influence of an appropriate and sufficient 
 stimulus. It possesses, in other words, the power 
 of reviving antecedent impressions, in accordance 
 with what may be called the law of cell-reproduc- 
 tion. From what has been said, we should ex- 
 pect such a power to exist in the various gangli- 
 onic nerve centres, including the cerebral visual 
 centre. Visual impressions, which are to a greater 
 or less extent pictorial on the retina, become in 
 the tubercula quadrigemina, optic thalami, and 
 angular gyri, cell-groups, or modified cell-manifes- 
 tations. Each specific group or manifestation is 
 the cipher or hieroglyphic of a specific visual ob- 
 ject. Such being the mechanism of sight, it is 
 
 1 Ferrier, op. cit., pp. 257, 258. 
 
120 VISIONS. 
 
 evident that whatever will produce in any of the 
 visual centres a cell-grouping or modification, 
 vrhich is the representative of any object, as a 
 rose, a dagger, or a face, will also produce the sub- 
 jective sensation or idea of the object. Ordinarily 
 this occurs only when an object is presented ex- 
 ternally to the eye, and the rays of light falling 
 from it on the retina, set the whole visual appar- 
 atus in action. Sometimes, however, causes which 
 are purely intra-cranial will revive old cell-groups 
 or modifications, and the subjective i-esult is the 
 seeing of objects of which there is no external 
 existence. 
 
 There are various intra-cranial conditions which 
 lead to this curious result, some of which have 
 been ascertained and others now unknown, will 
 doubtless be discovered by and by. Two of them, 
 habit and association, facilitate in a marked de- 
 gree the revival of old impressions and contribute 
 to the distinctness of the result. 
 
 All recognize the force of habit in rendering 
 the performance of actions easy, which when first 
 attempted were difficult. It enables an infant to 
 solve the hard problem of walking with rapidity, 
 so as to exchange in early life an uncertain, slow, 
 and painful gait for an assured and almost uncon- 
 scious step. By its aid a musician will render 
 with accuracy and effect the most difficult music, 
 while his conscious self is wandering among the 
 stars, or watching the mazes of a dance. The 
 brain of a practised orator will sometimes act so 
 
VISIONS. 121 
 
 far automatically under its influence as to pour 
 forth a strain of intelligent discourse, while the 
 speaker's self is temporarily intent upon some 
 occurrence in his audience, or pursuing ideas aside 
 from his speech. The visual centres do not escape 
 from the influence of habit. Cell-groupings and 
 cell-modifications, which are frequently formed, 
 acquire the power of being reproduced with con- 
 stantly increasing facility. Groupings, represent- 
 ing the lineaments of a face which has been seen 
 thousands of times, will re-form on the slightest 
 visual hint that the familiar countenance is within 
 the field of vision. Light reflected from a well- 
 known lip, or eye, or nose, upon the retina, will 
 not infrequently set the whole visual apparatus in 
 motion, so as to produce in the angular gyrus a 
 cell-group, which, being the representative of an 
 accustomed face, will present it to our subjective 
 vision. The more frequently the cell-groups of 
 the visual centre have been made to assume a cer- 
 tain form, the more easily and accurately do they 
 arrange themselves in that order. In this way, a 
 single feature, resembling that of a friend, seen on 
 a stranger's face, will polarize one or more cells 
 of the angular gyrus, and these being part of a 
 group which has been put together a thousand 
 times, will cause the whole group to crystallize 
 into shape and bring the friend before our sight. 
 
 The influence of association over the cerebral 
 visual centre, as well as over all nerve centres, is 
 not less potent than that of habit, and is closely 
 
122 VISIONS. 
 
 allied to it. Habit enables a visual cell-group to 
 be formed with constantly increasing facility and 
 accuracy ; association enables groups which have 
 been associated with each other to call each other 
 up, without any regard to mutual similarity or 
 natural connection. Let A., B., and C, indicate 
 the cell-groups or cell-modifications which repre- 
 sent respectively a man, a horse, and a rock, and 
 which have been frequently and for a long time 
 associated together. The man seen alone will 
 produce in the angular gyrus the visual group. A., 
 and its corresponding subjective sensation. The 
 grouping of A. will lead to the more or less com- 
 plete grouping of B. and C. ; or A. may produce 
 B. without C ; or C. without B. It is rare that 
 associated visual groups are completely formed in 
 this way ; if they were so the corresponding sub- 
 jective sensation would be equally complete, and 
 visions or pseudopia would be of frequent occur- 
 rence. They are, however, often imperfectly 
 formed and bring before the mind's eye imperfect 
 subjective visual sensations, which may be still 
 further developed by the ideo-motor action of the 
 cerebral cells. Such groupings and visual sensa- 
 tions are very apt to occur in sleep, and occasion 
 dreams in which strange sights play a prominent 
 part. This sort of association is an illustration of 
 Bain's " Law of Contiguity," in accordance with 
 which, " actions, sensations, and states of feeling, 
 occurring together or in close succession, tend to 
 grow together or cohere, in such a way that when 
 
VISIONS. 123 
 
 any one of them is afterwards presented to the 
 mind the others are apt to be brought up in 
 idea." 
 
 " Pictures which memory and fantasy produce," says 
 Wundt, " are formed by the influence of direct percep- 
 tion, or by that of other ideal conceptions with which 
 they are in some way connected by the laws of associa- 
 tion. Sometimes, indeed, it seems to us as if a definite 
 picture arose in our consciousness without any cause. 
 But even in such cases, the careful observer will seldom 
 miss the link, which connects ideas with antecedent con- 
 ditions. We overlook such connections easily, because 
 re-presentation can be attached to any of the elements 
 of perception and idea. Thus sensory and aesthetic 
 feelings, and the affections which act upon our conscious- 
 ness, and with which on account of their vagueness, as- 
 sociation is indistinctly connected, readily serve as vehi- 
 cles for reproduction. In view of the extraordinary 
 variety of connections which are thus possible, and of 
 the great difficulty of observing in one's self the simple, 
 direct, internal current of our ideas, we are compelled to 
 the conclusion, that a universal causality presides over 
 this territory also, and that no picture of memory ever 
 springs up over the threshold of consciousness, which 
 did not appear there in accordance with those laws of 
 association, which, in many cases, have been distinctly 
 demonstrated to exist. In short, association is a psycho- 
 logical antecedent. Hence we may describe the essen- 
 tial difference between the pictures of perception and 
 those of imagination as consisting in this : the former 
 always have their origin in a physiological irritant ; the 
 latter in a psychological irritation. We regard psychical 
 
124 VISIONS. 
 
 irritation as the originator of these ideas, which whether 
 resulting from contemplation or self-generated, bring a 
 picture into consciousness by means of association. Now, 
 although an ideal picture should possess the same ele- 
 ments of sensation as the original perception, perhajis 
 faded and modified in its details by the re-presentation 
 of others, yet even here we must presuppose a physio- 
 logical irritation of the central layers, which is developed 
 in consequence of psychical irritation." ^ 
 
 It is apparent from these considerations, that 
 the angular gyrus is the last centre or station of 
 the apparatus, which visual impressions traverse 
 on their way from the external world to the 
 frontal lobes, where they are turned over to the 
 machinery of ideation and volition. In this cen- 
 tre they receive their final elaboration, before 
 being presented to the mind ; here they are ac- 
 cvirately registered and preserved for revival or 
 reproduction. However numerous, frequent, and 
 varied these impressions may be, it contains ample 
 provision for receiving, forwarding, and recording 
 them all. It recognizes, pictures, and notes every 
 shade of visual difference. From it the mind de- 
 rives all the information light can impart of the 
 external world, and upon the accuracy of its re- 
 ports the mind implicitly relies. Whatever re- 
 port it sends up the mind accepts as true. In the 
 vast majority of cases, it justifies by its truthful- 
 ness the confidence reposed in it. Were it not 
 so, we should never be sure of anything we see. 
 
 1 Wundt, op. cit., pp. 644, 645. 
 
VISIONS. 125 
 
 Were it apt to act of itself, without being stimu- 
 lated by the eye, we should be unable to discrim- 
 inate subjective from objective seeing — orthopia 
 from pseudopia, — sights of external, from those 
 of internal life. But, now and then, the angular 
 gyri do act independently of the external world, 
 and then we are amazed and confounded by their 
 doings. Before discussing this point, however, it 
 is important to examine the visual relations of the 
 frontal lobes of the brain and angular gyri to each 
 other. 
 
 THE FRONTAL LOBES. 
 
 The cerebrum is the seat of intelligence, the 
 home of ideas and imagination, the forum, where 
 reason hears and decides, and from whence the 
 will utters its mandates which issue in action. 
 It is not intended by this statement to affirm that 
 mind and brain are identical, but only that all 
 mental action, however complex or subtle, is man- 
 ifested through the brain. Neither is it intended 
 to assert that the cerebrum is the sole organ of 
 the mind; for it is probable, some physiologists 
 would say proved, that the whole cerebro-spinal 
 system, in varying degrees, contributes to mental 
 force and mental processes, and aids in mental 
 manifestations. Nevertheless, the chief seat of in- 
 telligence is the cerebrum ; and of the cerebrum, 
 the frontal lobes for all purposes of intellection, 
 are the most important.. They contain the most 
 delicate and mysterious portions of the mind's 
 
126 VISIONS. 
 
 machinery. They constitute the organic basis of 
 the higher intellectual faculties, and intellectual 
 power is proportional to their development. 
 
 The frontal lobes are divided by anatomists into 
 three sections, called the superior, middle, and in- 
 f<jrior frontal convolutions. These are situated 
 directly behind and above the eyes, forming the 
 anterior and highest portion of the cerebrum, a 
 commanding position, symbolical of their watch 
 and control over the whole nervous apparatus. 
 Their constituent elements, like those of the tu- 
 bercula quadrigemina, optic thalami, and angular 
 gyri, are cells, containing nuclei and nucleoli, 
 granules, interlacing fibres, investing membranes, 
 connective tissue, and the like. Although these 
 elements are the same as those of other nerve 
 centres, it is evident from the functions they per- 
 form that in some way, perhaps in quality or 
 atomic arrangement, they differ from other gan- 
 glia of the cerebrum. The difference, however, is 
 of a character which no scalpel, lens, or analysis 
 has been able to demonstrate, or can appreciate. 
 In like manner, the various cell-groupings and 
 cell-modifications, mechanical, chemical, thermal, 
 )r dynamic, which, by inducing the development 
 or inhibition of force, enable motion, thought, and 
 volition to be manifested, may be guessed, but 
 cannot be traced or mapped out. What has been 
 said with regard to the hypothetical cell-group- 
 ings and cell-modifications of the tubercula quad- 
 rigemina, under the influence of visual impressions 
 
VISIONS. 127 
 
 from the eye, is applicable to similar groupings 
 in the frontal lobes, when such impressions are 
 transfei-red or reported to them from the angular 
 
 Numerous connecting nerve fibres unite the 
 visual centres of the hemispheres with the cells of 
 the frontal lobes, to which all visual impressions, 
 having been elaborated, classified, and carefully 
 arranged in these centres, are immediately re- 
 ported for inspection and ideation. The nerve 
 fibres, which connect the angular gyri with the 
 frontal lobes, serve not only to bear visual mes- 
 sages from the former to the latter, but the re- 
 verse. The effects of emotion, the results of in- 
 tellection, and the decisions of the will, all of 
 which receive their final elaboration, before their 
 manifestation in action, in the cells of the frontal 
 lobes, are felt, when they are concerned with vis- 
 ible objects or visual ideas, with greater or less 
 intensity, in the visual centres, and often aid in 
 the revival of impressions in those centres. Mes- 
 sages are thus sent along the connecting fibres be- 
 tween the angular gyri and the frontal lobes in 
 both directions, — to and from the gyri, and to 
 and from the lobes. In the same way all the 
 nerve centres of the body, and all the corporeal 
 organs, communicate directly or indirectly with 
 these lobes, so that not only the special senses of 
 sight, hearing, taste, smell, and tact, but every 
 organ and function report to these controlling 
 ganglia. By this arrangement the frontal lobes 
 
128 VISIONS. 
 
 are enabled to compare the reports from all parts 
 of the organization with each other, and so to 
 arrive at a sound judgment of the condition of the 
 mechanism they govern, and of the external world 
 with which they are thus brought into intimate 
 and constant relation. Among these reports those 
 from the angular gyri are of course included, and 
 are corrected, when necessary, by comparison with 
 the reports from other senses and organs. 
 
 Sight is perfected, as we have seen, in the 
 angular gyrus, the cerebral termination of the 
 visual apparatus, from which the visual impres- 
 sion is forwarded to the frontal lobes, where it is 
 transformed into an idea. The cell-groupings 
 of the gyrus, for example, being arranged into 
 the cipher of a horse, report to the frontal lobes 
 the presence of a horse ; the latter, receiving the 
 report, immediately produce the idea of a horse. 
 The action of the visual cells in the visual centre 
 is a sensation, which, transferred to the cells of 
 the frontal lobes, becomes an idea. The sensa- 
 tion and the idea, however, are not identical, 
 though one evolves the other. They are an il- 
 lustration of what Mr. Bain calls the double- 
 faced unitj'^ of mind and body. The angular 
 gyrus presents the physical, and the frontal lobes 
 give the mental side of a visual impression. 
 
 In order to comprehend the phenomena of 
 orthopia and pseudopia, it is important to keep 
 the distinction between a visual sensation and a 
 visual idea well in mind ; to remember that the 
 
vrsiONS. 129 
 
 idea of an object is not identical with the visual 
 sensation of the same object; that thinking is 
 not seeing. The cell-groupings and action of 
 the frontal lobes, by which visual ideas are mani- 
 fested, are not the same as the cell -groupings 
 and action of the angular gyri, by which fully 
 elaborated visual sensations are manifested ; nor 
 are the products the same. The common expres- 
 sion, " I can see it with my mind's eye," recog- 
 nizes this distinction. 
 
 It has been stated that under the influence of 
 habit, or association, or of both, cell-groupings 
 may be revived in the visual centres of external 
 objects, which are not objectively present to the 
 eye. When this occurs, the frontal lobes receive 
 the same visual report which they would receive 
 if the objects were present. The lobes are de- 
 ceived into the formation of visual ideas, without 
 the presence of any objective reality. This is 
 pseudopia. It is possible for the reverse to take 
 place ; for an idea to assume such proportions of 
 vividness and intensity as to send an impression 
 down to the angular gyri, and evoke there a 
 visual cell-grouping, independently of any stim- 
 ulus from the eye. In this way visual impres- 
 sions may travel in a circle from the lobes to the 
 visual centres ; from the visual centres to the 
 lobes ; from idea to sensation ; and back from 
 sensation to idea : the whole being an intra-cra- 
 nial process. We shall have occasion to call 
 attention again, in another part of this essay, 
 
130 VISIONS. 
 
 to this physiological and psychological phenom- 
 enon. 
 
 The existence of different grades of perception 
 in each of the intra-cranial visual centres has 
 already been pointed out. It has been shown 
 that when waves of light from a visible object 
 impinge on the retina, there is no perception of 
 the fact ; the cerebrum is not conscious of the 
 phenomenon. When they reach the tubercula 
 quadrigemina, perception is aroused ; conscious- 
 ness recognizes the approach of the visual vibra- 
 tions, by which the machinery of the tubercles 
 is set in motion, but there is no perception of 
 the details of the visual phenomena. When they 
 reach the angular gyri, a still higher grade of 
 perception is attained ; the details of the visual 
 telegram are perceived ; complete vision is ac- 
 complished, with a corresponding perception of 
 its completeness. When the completed vision 
 penetrates into the cells of the frontal lobes, and 
 is transformed into and connected with ideas, per- 
 ception recognizes both the transformation and 
 the intellectual and emotional activity, to which 
 the transformation gives rise. Perception in the 
 frontal lobes, therefore, is something more than 
 perception in the angular gyri ; it is sensation 
 and intellection. " The dynamic conditions of 
 which the cells of the cortical periphery are capa- 
 ble, represent, in a sensible form, clear and def- 
 inite perceptions, — in other terms, acquired no- 
 tions ; they represent, then, something more than 
 
V/SIONS. 131 
 
 simple perception ; they represent this, plus in- 
 tellectual work. Acquired notions are organic- 
 ally associated and classified in the cortical periph- 
 ery of the brain ; and they can, by the activity 
 of these cells, show themselves successively in the 
 centre of perception. Hence, when a lesion has 
 involved any point of the cortical periphery of 
 the brain, the association of ideas may be dis- 
 turbed ; and according to the nature of the le- 
 sion (congestion, inflammation, or otherwise), 
 there may appear the phenomena of excitement, 
 mania, hallucination, the delirium of amnesia, or 
 stupidity. According to this view, the centre of 
 perception is placed between two sources of ex- 
 citement, both of which set going its perceiving 
 powers ; on one side, are the exciting causes 
 which reach it along the nerves ; on the other, 
 are the exciting causes which reach it along the 
 fibres of the white centre of the encephalon. By 
 the first, it perceives the actual life of to-day ; 
 by the second, it perceives how it felt and lived 
 formerly." ^ 
 
 • What perception is in its essence we do not 
 know, and from the nature of things it is not 
 probable that the human mind ever will know. It 
 is a vital product, but the mechanism of its pro- 
 duction is a mystery ; no more of a mystery, how- 
 ever, than many other vital products. Physiol- 
 
 1 Dr. E. Fourni^, Recherches Expe'rimentales, op. cit., -p. 94 
 Tliough Dr. Fournie is a physiologist whose statements and 
 0])iiii(>ns must be received with caution, he is a suggestive writer, 
 and his views are often stri kins' and orisrinal. 
 
132 VISIONS. 
 
 ogists can no more explain how the blood is 
 transformed into a secretion like bile, or into an 
 optical instrument like the retina, than they can 
 how it is transformed into a cell, yielding percep- 
 tion. " Perception is a vital, elementary, inde- 
 composible phenomenon ; our knowledge of it 
 does not go beyond this." Our ignorance of its 
 nature, however, does not prevent our recognizing 
 its existence, estimating its value, or determining 
 its limitations. In the hemispheres, and especially 
 in the frontal lobes of the brain, it attains its 
 highest development and enjoys its largest range. 
 There it becomes what Leibnitz called ajjpercep- 
 tion, or perception that reflects upon itself. When 
 sensory ideas, whether visual, auditory, tactile, or 
 other, enter the domain of self consciousness, they 
 are studied in all their relations to the external 
 world and to the ego. Thus investigation, which 
 is apperception, is a function of the frontal lobes. 
 It is clearly different from the simple perception 
 of the existence of an object, without regard to 
 its details, such as occurs in the tubercula quad- 
 rigemina, and to which perception in that centre 
 is limited ; it is equally distinct from the percep- 
 tion of the existence of an object, with a com- 
 prehension of details, but without regard to the 
 relations which the object sustains to other things, 
 or to attendant conditions, such as occurs in the 
 angular gyri, and to which perception in that 
 centre is limited. Wundt illustrates this point by 
 calling consciousness internal sight, which has, 
 
VISIONS. 133 
 
 like the eye, a definite field of vision. Upon this 
 field of vision there is at any given moment a 
 number of objects, to one of which attention is 
 directed to the exclusion of others. The point to 
 which attention is directed he calls the sight point. 
 The field of vision is the territory of perception ; 
 the sight point that of apperception. When an 
 image enters the first territory it is perceived ; 
 when it enters the second, it is apperceived. The 
 visual process terminates, when the angular gyri 
 have transmitted their report from the external 
 world to the frontal lobes. The lobes accept 
 this report, study it in all its relations, assimilate 
 it and act upon it. A recognition of this distinction 
 between the visual function of the angular gyri, 
 and that of the lobes, is essential to a comprehen- 
 sion of the phenomena of orthopia as well as of 
 pseudopia. When light waves from an uplifted 
 dagger fall on the retina, the eye records the facts 
 of color, size, position, motion, etc., and transmits 
 an account of them to the tubercula quadrigemina. 
 This centre carefully adjusts the mechanism of 
 the eye, the iris, lenses, muscular apparatus and 
 the like, to the demands of careful observation, 
 coordinates the general muscular system for any 
 movement the emergency may require, and makes 
 its visual report to the angular gyrus. The latter 
 centre receives the report, perceives all the details 
 of the dagger, the hand grasping it, the face and 
 action of the owner, whatever constitutes an exact 
 picture of the scene, and transmits a correspond- 
 
134 VISIONS. 
 
 ing pictorial report to the frontal lobes. Upon re- 
 ceiving this report — this pictorial representation, 
 — the lobes look at it, ascertain its significance, 
 determine whether the uplifted dagger is raised 
 for inspection merel}'^, or for a threatened or real 
 plunge, or for other purposes, communicate with 
 the instincts and emotions, and decide the will to 
 act. 
 
 It is evident from the foregoing statements, not 
 only that sight is internal, or rather intracranial, 
 being a function of the brain, not of the eye, but 
 that internal seeing is of two kinds : one sensory, 
 the other ideal ; one evolved and conditioned by 
 the cells of the angular gyri, the other by those 
 of the frontal lobes ; one photographing external 
 objects without reflecting upon them, the other 
 receiving the photographic impression and reflect- 
 ing upon it ; one normally preceding the other, 
 but with the possibility of a reversed order ; one 
 being the mental vision of poets and artists, re- 
 produced from the substrata of mental experience, 
 the other the assured vision of seers and disor- 
 dered brains, reproduced from antecedent sensory 
 substrata ; one recognized by the subjects of it as 
 subjective, the other by the subjects of it as ob- 
 jective ; one known to be unreal, the other be- 
 lieved to be real ; each influencing the other ; and 
 both dependent upon and modified by cerebral and 
 nutritive conditions. 
 
 The intimate anatomical and physiological con- 
 nection of the cerebral visual centres and frontal 
 
VISIONS. 135 
 
 lobes renders the reciprocal influence, just alluded 
 to, extremely probable. Clinical and pbysiologi- 
 cal observation confirms its existence, and asserts 
 its importance. Vivid ideal pictures, painted by 
 strong emotion or intense volitional effort on the 
 organic structure of the frontal lobes, react on the 
 visual centres of the hemispheres, and lead to the 
 formation there of visual cell-groups, more or less 
 perfect in character. These in turn visually ex- 
 cite the lobes, and so by action and reaction add 
 vividness and accuracy to the ideal representa- 
 tions. " When we compare the miatomical rela- 
 tion of the sensorium, on the one hand, to the cor- 
 tical layer of the cerebrum, and on the other to 
 that retinal expansion of ganglionic matter which 
 is the recipient of visual impressions, we find the 
 two to be so precisely identical, as to suggest that 
 its physiological relation to those two organs must 
 be the same. And as we only become conscious 
 of the luminous impression by which nerve-force 
 has been excited in the retina, when the transmis- 
 sion of that nerve-force through the nerve of ex- 
 ternal sense has excited a change in the sensorium, 
 so it would seem probable that we only become 
 conscious of the further change excited, in our 
 cerebrum by the sensorial stimulus transmitted 
 along its ascending fibres, when the reflection of 
 the cerebral modification along its descending 
 fibres — the nerves of the internal senses, — has 
 brought it to react on the sensorium. In this 
 Doint of view, the sensorium is the one centre of 
 
136 VISIONS. 
 
 consciousness for visual impressions on the eye 
 (and, by analogy, on the other organs of sense), 
 and for ideational or emotional modifications in 
 the cerebrum, — that is, in the one case, for sen- 
 sations^ when we become conscious of sense-im- 
 pressions ; and, on the other, for ideas and emo- 
 tions^ when our consciousness has been affected by 
 cerebral changes. According to this view, we no 
 more thinh ovfeel with our cerebrum, than we see 
 with our eyes ; but the ego becomes conscious 
 through the same instrumentality of the retinal 
 changes which are translated (as it were) by the 
 sensorium into visual sensations, and of the cere- 
 bral changes which it translates into ideas or 
 emotions. The mystery lies in the act of transla- 
 tion ; and is no greater in the excitement of idea- 
 tional or emotional consciousness by cerebral 
 change, than in the excitement of sensational con- 
 sciousness by retinal change." ^ 
 
 Numerous examples might be given in illus- 
 tration of this physiological interchange and re- 
 inforcement of ideal and sensory intercranial pic- 
 tures. The following is as remarkable as any. 
 It is related by Dr. Abercrombie in his " Intellect- 
 ual Powers," and quoted in Dr. Carpenter's " Men- 
 tal Physiology : " " In the church of St. Peter, at 
 Cologne, the altar-piece is a large and valuable 
 picture by Rubens, representing the martyrdom 
 of the apostle. This picture having been carried 
 away by the French in 1805, to the great regret 
 
 1 Principles o/A/entalPhijsiolof/i/, by Wm. B. Carpenter, M. D., 
 LL. D., etc. Am. ed. 1 874, pp. 1 1 0, 1 1 1 . 
 
VISIONS. 137 
 
 of the inhabitants, a painter of that city under- 
 took to make a copy of it from recollection ; and 
 succeeded in doing so in such a manner, that the 
 most delicate tints of the original are preserved 
 with the most minute accuracy. The original 
 painting has now been restored, but the copy is 
 preserved along with it ; and even when they are 
 rigidly compared it is scarcely possible to distin- 
 guish the one from the other." 
 
 In this case cell-groupings, representing Ru- 
 bens' picture, had been frequently called together 
 in the angular gyri of the Cologne artist by the 
 visual stimulus of the picture ; and the impres- 
 sions had been stamped into them by close and 
 careful observation of it. Habit and association 
 conspired to facilitate the assembling of the same 
 visual groups. As often as a sensory picture had 
 been formed in the cerebral visual centres, a cor- 
 responding ideal picture was formed in the frontal 
 lobes. Here, also, habit and association had facil- 
 itated the formation of the same cell-groupings. 
 Each group had learned to appear simultaneously, 
 and to listen to each other's call. When the 
 Cologne artist wished to recall and reproduce the 
 original painting, to which he was denied access, 
 his will summoned his ideal picture, that is, the 
 cell-groupings of his frontal lobes corresponding 
 to it, which assembled with greater or less fidelity 
 at the call. These, when assembled, sent down 
 along an efferent nerve a notice of their gathering 
 to the angular gyri. The cells of this centre, ac- 
 
138 VISIONS. 
 
 customed to be grouped in a form representing 
 the desired picture, assembled automatically, and 
 sending up a visual stimulus by an afferent nerve, 
 reinforced the efforts at cell formation of the 
 frontal lobes. This process went on till a group- 
 ing was formed in the angular gyri, which was 
 the exact hieroglyphic of Rubens's painting. 
 From this the artist reproduced the picture. He 
 copied the copy in his brain, without the objective 
 presence of the original work. 
 
 Habit and association, including under these 
 terms Bain's law of contiguity and Dr. Carpen- 
 ter's law of similarity, are as powerful factors in 
 the process of reviving cell-groupings, whether 
 visual or other, in the frontal lobes, as they are in 
 performing a similar office in the angular gyri. 
 Their territory extends throughout the cortical 
 cerebral layers, and embraces the cell-manifesta- 
 tion of all forms of emotion, ideation, and volition, 
 as well as the translation of special sense messages 
 or imag-es into ideal ones. The method of their 
 action and the aid they render in the revival and 
 reproduction of past impressions have been suf- 
 ficiently described already ; and the description 
 may be applied, mutatis mutandis, as accurately 
 to their influence over cell activity in the lobes, 
 as in the visual centres. There are other factors 
 than habit and association, however, which ren- 
 der essential service in the process of re-presenting 
 old impressions as well as in that of intensifying 
 the action of new ones ; and which, while they 
 
 ,^^k^^^^ 
 
VISIONS. 139 
 
 exert an influence over mental manifestations in 
 the gray matter of the whole cerebral mass, find 
 their most important and most mysterious sphere 
 in the frontal lobes. These are, emotion, expect- 
 ant attention, automatism, blood-supply, including 
 nutj:ition, drugs, disease, and volition, 
 /'^motion, in proportion to its strength, gives 
 vividness and intensity to every cerebral impres- 
 sion. Hope, fear, love, hate, desire, aversion, ad- 
 miration, contempt, hunger, thirst, and the like, 
 all in varying degrees, deepen the impression 
 vs^hich objects, associated with these emotions, im- 
 print upon the cells of the brain. When strong 
 feeling is connected with any person or thing, a 
 single look at whoever or whatever so stirs the 
 heart is sufficient to produce an effect upon the 
 cell-structure of the angular gyri and frontal lobes, 
 more definite and permanent than a thousand su- 
 perficial glances at indifferent objects could bring 
 about. Emotion is the force which strikes the 
 die deep into the cells, whereon are engraved the 
 pictorial and other sensory records of the mind, 
 and moulds the structure through which ideas flow 
 and volition acts. It is the stimulus which makes 
 the brain catch the fleeting colors, and sharp or 
 shadowy outlines and expressions of the objective 
 world, and the heat which burns them into the 
 sensitized plates of the centres of special sense and 
 corresponding tissues of the lobes. 
 
 The influence of emotion over certain parts of 
 the organization, where its action can be recog- 
 
140 VISIONS. 
 
 nized and is acknowledged, affords both an indi- 
 cation and illustration of the great influence it 
 may exert over the delicate and mobile structures 
 of the brain. There is apparently no part of the 
 body, placed more completely out of the reach of 
 the waves of emotion than the hair ; yet emotion 
 has blanched the hair in less than twenty-four 
 hours. One of the best known and most striking 
 instances of this phenomenon occurred in the per- 
 son of the unfortunate Marie Antoinette. " Be- 
 fore the fatal day arrived," says M. Jules Janin, 
 " the queen asked for a priest ; the republic sent 
 her one of its own, whom the queen refused to see 
 and knelt alone before her God. At last the day 
 
 of her deliverance came She arranged her 
 
 lovely hair for the last time, and shuddered to 
 find it had grown perfectly white in her last twen- 
 ty-four hours." The inexpressible dread and 
 agony, attendant upon her terrible situation and 
 approaching execution, probably induced at the 
 base of the queen's brain a hyperaemia of some of 
 the vaso-motor centres. As a result of this con- 
 gestion, the circulation through the hairy scalp 
 was inhibited and the hair suffered ; a striking 
 testimony to the power of intense emotion over 
 the human organization. The blush of gratified 
 pride and of offended modesty, the pale face of 
 anger and the cutis anserina of terror, all testify 
 to the same power. 
 
 The following instance shows that intense emo- 
 tion may go so far as to change the quality of the 
 
VISIONS. 141 
 
 olood and destroy life. " A young and beautiful 
 woman in the middle rank of life, liigbly but self- 
 educated, of great mental endowment, of admira- 
 ble taste, and strong sensibility and attachment, 
 was unconsciously the one by whose hand a poi- 
 sonous dose was administered to her sole surviving 
 parent, to whom she was attached with all the 
 fervor and devoted ness of a daughter's love. The 
 phial contained an ounce and a half of laudanum ; 
 it was given by mistake for a senna draught. 
 When presented to him by his daughter, he tasted 
 it, and said he did not like it and would not take 
 it. He had not been in good health ; it was with 
 much entreaty he was ever prevailed on to take 
 the medicines prescribed. She urged him in 
 terms the most affectionate and persuasive to take 
 his draught ; he replied, ' Dearest, you know I 
 never can refuse you anything,' and swallowed it. 
 Three hours passed away before she was aware 
 of her terrible mistake. She was aroused to it 
 by the state of stupor into which her father had 
 fallen, when it flashed across her mind. She found 
 the senna draught which she had intended to have 
 given untouched ; she also found the word ' poison ' 
 printed in large letters on the empty phial. The 
 shock to her mind was terrific. She became like 
 one insane. All possible means were employed 
 to save the life of the poisoned man, but they 
 were employed too late. He died profoundly 
 comatose at the end of a few hours. From the 
 moment of his last breath a change came over 
 
142 VISIONS. 
 
 her. She was lost to all knowledge or notice 
 of persons and occurrences around ; she lay like 
 a statue, pale and motionless. Food she never 
 took, excepting when it was placed upon her 
 tongue. The only sound which escaped her lips 
 was a faint yes or no. When asked what ailed 
 her, she would place her hand upon her heart. 
 Her extremities were cold. She sighed and shiv- 
 ered frequently, and dozed brokenly and protract- 
 edly. To her, the world, and all things in it, 
 were a blank. Tonics and stimulants were ad- 
 ministered, air and scene were changed, kind and 
 compassionate relatives and friends tried and tried 
 in vain to rouse and console ; she pined away, and 
 nought but a breathing skeleton remained. She 
 lingered on with very little variety or alteration 
 of symptoms for ten months. Before her dissolu- 
 tion she became cedematous. The swelling, soft 
 and transparent, was first perceived in the lower 
 extremities, but gradually progressed upwards. 
 It became apparent on the backs of the hands, 
 along the arms, and ultimately it was universal. 
 All the viscera, spinal, cerebral, thoracic, and ab- 
 dominal, were patiently and minutely examined. 
 No ti-ace of organic change of structure could be 
 
 detected This poor patient, beaten down 
 
 in mind and body, breathed her last without a 
 moan or a painful struggle. The mental shock 
 had paralyzed the vital actions, an evidence that 
 in real life events do occur which transcend even 
 the highest flights of fiction. An almost total sus- 
 
VISTONS. 143 
 
 pension of nutrition, sanguification, and vascular 
 energy characterized this case. The result was 
 universal dropsy consisting in the thinnest seros- 
 
 Such is the influence of emotion, when intensely 
 excited, ovei- parts of the organization which are 
 ordinarily very little, or not at all affected by it. 
 If it possesses such power over organs with which 
 it is only remotely connected, it is difficult to as- 
 sign any limits to its influence over the nervous 
 centres themselves, with which it is intimately 
 associated. Hence we can understand how it 
 may force the impression of a look or object, of a 
 face or deed, seen but once, so deeply into a group 
 of cells in the visual compartments of the brain, 
 that half a century or more of subsequent life 
 shall not efface it. My own experience furnishes 
 an illustration of this statement. When a child, 
 between two and three years old, so young that 
 some have doubted if I could remember the event 
 about to be recorded, a visitor at my father's 
 house in the country committed suicide, by shoot- 
 ing himself through the head. He managed the 
 matter so that the ball, entering probably by his 
 mouth, passed out through the back of his head, 
 and through the hat which he wore at the time. 
 I have only an indistinct recollection of the ex- 
 citement, confusion, and horror which, naturally 
 attendant upon such an event any where, would be 
 exaggerated in a quiet country place. My child- 
 
 1 Dublin Quarterly Journal of Medicine, August 1, 1853, p. 1, etc 
 
144 VISIONS. 
 
 ish curiosity and wonder, with a sort of name- 
 less dread, were, of course, raised to their high- 
 est pitch ; they seized hold of a single picture, and 
 burnt it into the cell structure of my brain so 
 deeply, that the lapse of more than fifty years 
 have not effaced it. That picture was the hole in 
 the victim's hat, made by the passage of the fatal 
 ball. As I write these lines I can see the hole, 
 with fuzz or fur sticking out around it, as if elec- 
 trified, as distinctly as if the event had occurred 
 yesterday. All other attendant circumstances, the 
 confusion, the blood, the corpse, and the ghastli- 
 ness of death, have faded away, but the hole with 
 its fringe of projecting fur remains. There are 
 times when that hole, unthought of and uncalled 
 for, comes strangely before me. A black hat in a 
 crowd, one among a thousand similar ones, will, 
 why I know not, sometimes possess that hole. It 
 may appear in a dream, or be seen at a dinner 
 party or a club, where some one tells the story of 
 a suicide ; or be drawn into my field of subjective 
 vision by a force, of which the character and 
 source are alike undiscovered and undiscoverable. 
 Emotion by a single blow stamped the visual rec- 
 ord of that hole and hat indelibly into a group of 
 cerebral cells, and the record has for half a century 
 since occasionally obtruded itself into the sphere 
 of consciousness, or been now and then pushed up 
 there by some recondite association. 
 
 Emotion, which is so influential in fixing visual 
 and other impressions on the cerebral structures, 
 
VISIONS. 145 
 
 is not less efficient in facilitating the process by 
 which old impressions are revived and reproduced. 
 It enlarges the power and quickens the action of 
 habit and association, so that under its stimulus 
 both of these forces, which play so important a 
 part in re-presenting antecedent sensory images, 
 work with increased rapidity and accuracy. A 'lu- 
 dicrous scene, witnessed by half a dozen individ- 
 uals, will provoke a degree of laughter in each 
 one, varying with his emotional state at the time; 
 and upon each one's emotional state, at some sub- 
 sequent period, will depend the vividness with 
 which the original scene and corresponding laugh- 
 ter can be reproduced. Sir Walter Scott recog- 
 nized the power of emotion over the organization, 
 by making Brian de Bois-Guilbert fall dead from 
 his horse, without a wound, before the lance of 
 his enfeebled and hated rival, Ivanhoe. He also 
 recognized its power in reviving pictures of the 
 past, when he made Sir George Staunton recall, 
 after years of absence and in a moment of excite- 
 ment, " the Grindstone," and " the white rock in 
 line with the steeple." "By G — , I think your 
 honor kens the bay as weel as me," was the vet- 
 eran boatman's emphatic testimony to the ac- 
 curacy with which Sir George's brain rediscov- 
 ered the land and water marks of the scene of 
 his youthful follies and crimes. Who has not 
 learned from experience how vividly some sudden 
 emotion, joy or grief, will produce an ideal pic- 
 ture of the past, making the present less real 
 
 10 
 
146 VISIONS. 
 
 than fgrmer scenes ? A bereaved mother, look- 
 ing upon a photograph, or it may be only upon a 
 lock of hair of a deceased son or daughter, will 
 see her loved one's face as if alive. Love and 
 grief, reinforcing the power of association, will so 
 stimulate her ideational and visual centres, as to 
 revive cell-groups which represented her living 
 child. Volition is generally intensified by emo- 
 tion. The blow of an angry or terrified will is 
 more quick and violent than that of quiet de- 
 termination. Yet the 023posite may be the case. 
 Timidity, shame, and modesty may paralyze 
 effort. In seeking for an explanation of the phe- 
 nomena of pseudopia, so far as the will affords 
 any light, the law, not the exception to it, must 
 be borne in mind, that emotion modifies volition 
 in the direction of intensifying the latter. 
 
 Expectant attention is volition, modified by 
 emotion in the way just described, and is an im- 
 portant factor in facilitating many of the proc- 
 esses of perception and ideation. It does not so 
 much initiate ideas, as it prepares the way for 
 their evolution. It polarizes the cerebral cells in 
 the direction of some desired result, whether sen- 
 sory or ideal. Whatever the mind desires is more 
 likely to be attained under its influence than 
 apart from it. This is true not only of what may 
 be called legitimate mental operations, but of 
 illusory perceptions. Its greatest power is man- 
 ifested in the revival and reproduction of cell- 
 groups in the nervous centres, which have been 
 
VISIONS. 147 
 
 previously and frequently formed there, and of 
 the corresponding ideal and sensory pictures. 
 When attention is exerted for the purpose, and 
 with the expectation of seeing a familiar object, 
 or attaining a familiar end, the object is far more 
 likely to appear and the end to be reached, than 
 if no such purpose existed, or no such expectation 
 was raised. 
 
 The influence of expectant attention in facil- 
 itating certain processes of the organization, or 
 as an assistant in the accomplishment of certain 
 ends, has long been recognized by physicians, 
 and applied by them in therapeutics. Its power 
 over the body as a therapeutic agent illustrates, 
 and to some extent explains, its action in the 
 higher nervous centres. " Medicines," says one 
 of the most cautious and accurate American med- 
 ical writers, " as a general rule, will act with 
 greater certainty when their legitimate effects are 
 known and expected. An emetic will be more 
 likely to vomit, if the patient anticipate this ef- 
 fect from it. The cooperation of faith with the 
 medicine will often favor its action. This is 
 more especially true when the nervous system 
 is prominently concerned. The full belief in the 
 efficacy of quinia in intermittent diseases aids 
 considerably in the prevention of paroxysm." ^ 
 Surgeons are familiar with the physiological fact, 
 and act upon it, that an individual will come 
 
 1 A Treatise on Therapeutics and Pharmacology, or Materia Med- 
 ica, by George B. Wood, M. D., etc., etc., vol. i., p. 40. 
 
148 VISIONS. 
 
 more rapidly, pleasantly, and effectually under 
 the anjBsthetic influence of ether, if he expects 
 to be made insensible, and gives himself up to 
 the inhalation of the vapor, than if he is in an 
 opposite condition. In this particular instance, 
 expectant attention is of great practical impor- 
 tance. Sometimes its power over the system is 
 such as to obtain extraordinary results from the 
 administration of medicines. I once gave ten 
 grains of Dover's powder to a stout hearty Irish 
 woman at night as an anodyne. She expected a 
 cathartic, supposed she had taken a cathartic, and 
 was determined to have a cathartic result. Hav- 
 ing previously taken some laxative preparation of 
 her own prescribing, without avail, she was all 
 the more anxious for the success of this. When 
 I made my visit the next day, she met me with 
 a beaming countenance, and in glowing Celtic 
 phrase expressed her gratitude for the happy re- 
 sult which had been attained. The usual phys- 
 iological action of Dover's powder had been an- 
 tagonized by attention to an expected result. 
 
 Expectant attention involves sympathy, hope, 
 belief, faith, and imitation ; and to a large extent 
 achieves its results, in reviving by-gone images 
 and ideas, by the aid of these emotions. Imag- 
 ination is also an important factor in this pro- 
 cess, and is intimately connected with emotional 
 states, though very different from them. Com- 
 bined with them, it adds extraordinary energy to 
 the power of expectant attention, and enables it 
 
VISIONS. 149 
 
 to attain its greatest and most mysterious mar- 
 vels. " When a person on swallowing a bread- 
 pill, in the belief that it possesses aperient proper- 
 ties, is purged, it is said to be through his imag- 
 ination ; the mental condition present yielding, 
 on analysis, a definite direction of thought to the 
 intestinal canal ; such leading idea exciting the 
 same peristaltic action as would have been in- 
 duced by castor-oil. The force of this current of 
 thought is augmented by expectation. The other 
 day a lady nurse at the Plymouth Hospital told 
 me of a patient in one of the female wai'ds, who 
 was much disconcerted at the doctor having left 
 the hospital without ordering an aperient pill, as he 
 had intended to do. The nurse procured a bread- 
 pill, and satisfied her mind. Next day she found, 
 on inquiry, that it had answered its purpose satis- 
 factorily. Again, I hold a ruler in my hand, and 
 puiut it to a painful region of the body of a pa- 
 tient who entertains the opinion that I am about 
 to relieve the pain. The patient imagining that 
 the ruler will be the means of curing her, believes 
 in a force which does not exist, — a curative power 
 passing from the ruler to the body, — and is re- 
 lieved. That she is relieved is no imagination. 
 What cured her? Merely to say it was the im- 
 agination is no solution of the problem. What 
 really happened was that her attention was ar- 
 rested and forcibly directed to the part, the prom- 
 inent idea being the firm conviction that the mor- 
 bid symptoms would pass away. In other cases 
 
150 VISIONS. 
 
 the fixed idea may be, on the contrary, that cer- 
 tain plienomena will occur ; that there will be pain, 
 or redness of the skin, or loss of muscular .power, 
 and should these supervene, we say, as before, it 
 was due to the imagination. This medical use 
 of the term has for its basis that thinking upon 
 an object which, as Dugald Stewart points out, 
 is used by Shakespeare as synonymous with the 
 imagination, when he speaks of ' thinking ' on 
 the frostj'' Caucasus, the ' apprehension ' of the 
 good, and the ' imagination ' of a feast." ^ 
 
 From this account of the power of expectant 
 attention over organs and functions, which lie 
 remote from the cerebral nerve centres, we can 
 form some notion of its influence over these cen- 
 tres themselves. Indeed, it is probably through 
 its influence over these, that it produces the ef- 
 fects which have been described. It would exceed 
 the limits of the present essay to describe the full 
 extent of this influence ; for our purpose it is sufii- 
 cient, here, to emphasize the fact and character of 
 its action upon the visual, auditory, and ideational 
 centres ; ujDon these, it acts efiiciently, aiding the 
 force of habit, association, and emotion in the re- 
 vival of old cell-groupings, and the consequent re- 
 production of past images and ideas. One who 
 expects to see the face of a departed friend or 
 child, around which are clustered the deepest and 
 tenderest emotions of the human heart, and with 
 
 1 Influence of the Mind on the Bodij, by Daniel Hack Tuke, 
 M D., etc., etc. Am. ed. 1872, pp. 19, 20. 
 
VISIONS. 151 
 
 whicli are associated life's hopes and disappoint- 
 ments and deeds, is placed in the most favorable 
 condition for the formation of cell-groups, capa- 
 ble of bringing the familiar face within the field 
 of subjective vision. Under such circumstances 
 the most remote suggestions and shadowy traces 
 of resemblance are sometimes sufficient to produce 
 an ideal vision, or even a sensory representation. 
 When Polonius, at Hamlet's bidding, saw a cloud 
 assume the likeness of a whale, he illustrated a 
 profound physiological law as well as the obsequi- 
 ous subservience of a courtier. 
 
 Automatism, that is, automatic or reflex action, 
 has been described in the earlier part of this mon- 
 ograph as a contrivance of the nervous system, by 
 means of which most of the phenomena of life are 
 accomplished. Some physiologists assert that 
 even the highest functions of the cerebrum are 
 performed through its agency. Without accepting 
 the latter statement to its full extent, it is clear 
 that all the ganglia, spinal, sympathetic, cerebellar, 
 and cerebral, are subject to its power, and that it is 
 difficult, perhaps impossible, to define or limit its 
 jurisdiction. It is unnecessary to repeat the de- 
 scription, previously given, of reflex action ; but 
 without doing so, it is important, in this connec- 
 tion, to call attention to what may be called ac- 
 quired automatism, or the power, which the nerv- 
 ous apparatus gains, after persistent effort in any 
 given direction, of doing that easil}^, automatically, 
 and almost unconsciously, which, at first, was 
 
152 VISIONS. 
 
 difficult, volitional, and conscious. The facility 
 which the human mechanism acquires of perform- 
 ing, with apparent spontaneity, the complex acts 
 of walking, talking, handicraft, and the like, are 
 familiar illustrations of this fact. Our hands and 
 feet, when instructed and trained, acquire the 
 power of acting as if they were independent 
 beings ; so do our eyes and ears, though we are 
 less accustomed to recognize the automatic action 
 of the latter than of the former. An eye, trained 
 to watch and guide the movements of a shuttle 
 or needle, acquires a marvellous facility of auto- 
 matic action in doing so. The cells of the motor 
 centres, which coordinate and govern locomotion, 
 are so frequently grouped together for that ob- 
 ject, that they assemble on the slightest hint, and 
 when assembled possess an acquired power of act- 
 ing automatically. In like manner, certain cells 
 of the visual centres are often grouped together 
 by the frequent presentation of the same object 
 to the eye, and the visual groups thus formed 
 acquire, at length, the power of transmitting a 
 visual message to the frontal lobes, automatically, 
 that is, with very little regard, or possibly no re- 
 gard, to the objective presentation. If it should 
 k30 happen, as it sometimes will, that a particular 
 visual group, the hieroglyphic of a familiar face, 
 for example, should be called together by some 
 remote association or intense emotion, in the way 
 previously described, the group would act auto- 
 matically by virtue of its acquired automatism, 
 
VISIONS. 153 
 
 and spontaneously send up a visual report to a 
 higher station. Under such circumstances, an in- 
 dividual, like the Cologne artist, would have sub- 
 jective but not objective vision. 
 
 Association utters a call for the assembling of a 
 cerebral cell-group ; habit enables it to form with 
 facility ; emotion imparts distinctness to it ; ex- 
 pectant attention anticipates and urges its appear- 
 ance ; automatism gives it power to act ; and the 
 ideational centres welcome and utilize the result. 
 
 The laws or modes of cerebral activity, which 
 have hitherto been considered on account of their 
 intimate connection with the phenomena of pseud- 
 opia, are some of the laws, perhaps the principal 
 ones, which the brain exhibits in its normal con- 
 dition. They are necessarily more or less modified 
 in their operation, by any abnormal condition of 
 that organ. Any change of nerve structure, or 
 alteration of the quantity or quality of blood cir- 
 culating through the cerebral tissues, and conse- 
 quently of their nutrition, involves a correspond- 
 ing change in the manifestations of cell-power. 
 Any or all of these manifestations may be in- 
 creased or diminished or abolished, by organic 
 or functional cerebral changes. Hence it becomes 
 necessary to describe, as briefly as the object be- 
 fore us will permit, the mutual relations of blood 
 and brain. The subject is a large and important 
 one. Only a few salient points, which bear di- 
 rectly upon our purpose, can be touched upon 
 here. 
 
154 VISIONS. 
 
 A most interesting anatomical fact arrests our 
 attention, as soon as we glance at the relation of 
 blood and brain to each other. Tliat fact is the 
 enormous amount of blood, furnished to the brain 
 and consumed there, in comparison with the 
 amount sent to the rest of the body. "In the 
 case of man, although the brain has not ordinarily 
 more than about one fortieth of the weight of the 
 body, yet it is estimated to receive from one sixth 
 to one fifth of the whole circulating blood." ^ 
 There is, of course, an object in supplying the 
 brain with such a wealth of blood, the costliest 
 compound of the organization, and that object is 
 apparent, when we reflect that the blood is the 
 life of the body, and consequently of every organ 
 in the body. Wherever the largest amount of 
 blood is present and consumed, there will always 
 be found the greatest functional and organic ac- 
 tivity. Vital manifestations are proportional to 
 blood consumption. In the brain, where the high- 
 est forms of such manifestations, sensation, idea- 
 tion, and volition are exhibited, the most blood is 
 consumed. The cell-groupings and cell-modifica- 
 tions, the organization and destruction of proto- 
 plasmic material for the evolution of force, the 
 transmission of visual reports from one visual 
 centre to another, the transformation of sensory 
 pictures into ideas, and all the complicated phe- 
 nomena, attending the process of vision from ob- 
 jective to subjective sight, to which such constant 
 ^ Principles of Mental Physiology, by W. B. Carpenter, p. 38. 
 
VISIONS. 155 
 
 reference has been made in tliese pages, all de- 
 pend on the blood as their source and supply of 
 energy. Sensation, ideation, and volition are as 
 dependent on the quantity and quality of cerebral 
 blood supply, as electricity is upon the quantity 
 and quality of the fluid which supplies the bat- 
 tery generating it. 
 
 Blood performs a triple function in the develop- 
 ment of nerve force. It affords to nerve struc- 
 tures material for the metamorphosis which goes 
 on in them unceasingly while life continues ; it 
 supplies oxygen, by the action of which on nerve 
 structures force is developed ; and it removes the 
 waste which metamorphosis of tissue and utiliza- 
 tion of force necessitate. A diminished quantity of 
 blood passing through the ganglionic nerve centres, 
 visual and others, produces as a rule an inactive 
 condition in them, so that they respond less readily 
 than usual to their appropriate stimuli. An in- 
 creased quantity, passing through their capilla- 
 ries — hypersemia — is followed or accompanied 
 by greater nerve-activity and corresponding aug- 
 mentation of susceptibility to stimuli. When the 
 abstraction of blood is carried so far as to drain it 
 all, or nearly all away, complete abolition of nerve 
 power — of sensation, thought, and volition — is 
 produced ; and the same result follows an exces- 
 sive flow of blood into the intra-cranial capillaries, 
 leading to congestion with pressure or extravasa- 
 tion. If either the abstraction of blood from the 
 ferebral nerve centres, or its flow into them, passes 
 
150 VISIONS. 
 
 certain tolerably well defined limits, all manifesta- 
 tions of nerve force are suspended or rendered 
 impossible. Within these limits, an abnormal 
 diminution of blood circulating through the brain, 
 excepting in some diseased states, represses, and 
 the opposite augments these manifestations. 
 
 The mysterious physiological process of meta- 
 morphosis of tissue, goes on in the brain as well 
 as in all other parts of the organization, and there- 
 fore measures correlated mental activity, as accu- 
 rately as it measures the secretion of bile in the 
 liver, or muscular effort in the muscles. Cere- 
 bral, like muscular metamorphosis, requires oxygen 
 for its performance. Metamorphosis results from 
 combustion. Hence if the blood, without being 
 deficient in quantity, is poor in oxygen, there will 
 be diminished metamorphosis, and corresponding 
 inactivity of the cerebral ganglia. The visual 
 centres are not exempt from this law. The due 
 performance of their functions depends upon the 
 destructive and constructive metamorphosis of 
 their peculiar structures, and this upon the oxy- 
 gen which they derive from the blood. Called 
 ganglia, they are delicate furnaces of marvellous 
 construction, constantly supplied with combustible 
 matter, which, kindled by rays or waves of light, 
 reaching them from visible objects through the 
 burning retina, furnish heat, by means of whicli 
 the process of vision is rendered possible, sensory 
 nnpressions are transformed into ideal images, and 
 the latter made the substrata of thought and voli- 
 
VISIONS. 157 
 
 tion. For all these purposes, a continual supply 
 of oxygen from the blood is as essential as the 
 oxygen of the atmosphere is to the sparkling of a 
 fire-fly, the combustion of coal, or the flash of ar- 
 tillery. The curious change of force from waves 
 of light to those of thought, by the aid of oxygen, 
 has many analogies in the transformations of the 
 world about us, especially in the changes r^ulting 
 from the correlation of force. Mr. W. R. Grove 
 devised an ingenious and elegant experiment which 
 illustrates this statement. He arranged a box 
 filled with water, in which was enclosed a prepared 
 daguerreotype plate, a gridiron of silver wire, a 
 galvanometer coil, a Brequet's helix, and a set of 
 needles, in such a way that as soon as light, by 
 raising the shutter of the box, was allowed to im- 
 pinge on the plate, there was produced, light being 
 the initiating force, " chemical action on the plate, 
 electricity circulating through the wires, magnet- 
 ism in the coil, heat in the helix, and motion in 
 the needles." ^ What began as an image on the 
 plate became motion in the needles. So in the 
 process of vision, what begins as an image, initi- 
 ated by light on the retina, results as thought in 
 the frontal ganglia. We know as little of the 
 precise nature of the process in the one case as in 
 the other. We see the phenomena, but not the 
 working of the mechanism by which the results 
 are attained. If, in Mr. Grove's experiment, the 
 
 1 Correlation and Conservation of Forces, by E. L. Youmans, 
 M. D., p. 117. 
 
153 nsioxs. 
 
 initial force had been electricity in the wires, or 
 heat in the helix, instead of light on the plate, 
 the result — motion of the needles — \rould hare 
 been the same. In the me<dianisni of vision, if, 
 by some abnormal condition of the cerebral struc- 
 tnnes or circalation, or by some action on the deli- 
 cate elements of the brain oi tiie modifving infla- 
 enees^ost described, or by some subtle change in 
 oxygenati<m, the initial fotce, instead of being the 
 ordinary one of light impinging on tbe retina, 
 should be one producing a visual group in the 
 tnbercnla quadrigemina or angular gyri, tiie result 
 ci ideation in the frontal lobes would be the same. 
 Ilie ego wocdd not be cognizant of the initial 
 point. 
 
 " Tims, thai, the dependence : : ^ ^— r = power and of 
 maital activity^ upcm the {Avsici.' .s kept up br 
 
 the ciiciilatiim of oxygenate". -in, 
 
 can be shown esp^imentalj aid 
 
 immediate, as is the d^endr -ity 
 
 of ag^dranic hatteiy iqpoB tl -^r 
 
 plaee b^weoi its metals an 
 if we say diat dectricity is 
 
 diange in the one case, he- _ ^ :r: -^ - 
 
 though as the e j p r e s$i »m of chaaaical change in the 
 other ? This view is not hne advanced as aqplaimimg 
 anj mental phenomenon. No {Aysidst would say that 
 he can ' explain ' how it is that dectricity b generated 
 by chemical change; bat he knows that soch a rdiation 
 of cause and e^ct exists between the two ordos of 
 fdienomena, that evexy diemical change is accompanied 
 hj a distiuhanoe at electricity; and thus, whraiever he 
 
VISIONS. 159 
 
 witnesses electric disturbance, he is led to look for some 
 chemical change as its physical cause. And in precisely 
 tlie same sense, and no other, the physiologist must re- 
 gard some cliange in the substance of the brain as tlie 
 immediate physical antecedent of all automatic mental 
 action. It is the attribute of the Will to utilize this 
 automatic power of the brain, as it utilizes that of the 
 muscles ; and thus tcT make the ego, in proportion as he 
 has acquired the mastei'y over it, a free agent." ^ 
 
 Inasmuch as the greater inckides the less, it 
 follows that what Dr. Carpenter, in the above 
 extract, has asserted of the whole brain must be 
 equally true of the visual centres, which are com- 
 ponent parts of it. And this is in accordance 
 with the whole doctrine of the preceding pages. 
 
 Besides supplying material for constructive 
 metamorphosis, and oxj'gen to enable metamor- 
 phosis to go on, the blood performs the third 
 office of removinof from the cerebral sranglia the 
 "waste products of their labor. It keeps the visual 
 workshops of the retina, the tubercula quadrigem- 
 ina, angular gyri, and frontal lobes, as well as 
 all other cerebral laboratories, clean, so that they 
 are always in good working order. The refuse is 
 the result of the transformation of cell-contents, 
 granules, protoplasmic stuff, and whatever other 
 elements enter into the formation of visual cell- 
 groups, and are necessary to the generation of 
 force, utilized in the transmission of visual re- 
 ports to all pai'ts of the nervous system with which 
 1 Mental Physiology, by W. B. Carpenter, p. 40. 
 
160 VISIONS. 
 
 vision is associated. This waste is represented 
 by various oxy-corapounds of carbon, hydrogen, 
 phosphorus, and the like, which replace in the 
 veins returning from the brain free oxygen, carried 
 thither by the arteries. The effect on the brain of 
 the retention of these waste products by the cere- 
 bral circulation is well shown in certain forms 
 of disease producing mental torpor, insensibility, 
 and, in extreme cases, death by asphyxia. It is 
 possible, — and perhaps clinical observation would 
 warrant the statement without reservation, — that 
 what thus occurs as a general affection of the 
 whole brain, may, under favorable conditions, oc- 
 cur as a local affection of a limited portion of 
 the cerebral mass, like one of the sensory or idea- 
 tional centres. Local cerebral affections, th© re- 
 sult of local cerebral causes, are of not infrequent 
 occurrence. A tumor pressing on the tubercula 
 quadrigemina will cause blindness. Inflammation, 
 limited to the same territory, may lead to the 
 same result, without deranging the mental faculties, 
 or the functions of the sensory ganglia. A poison 
 in the blood, resulting from the retention of waste 
 products, may spend its morbid force chiefly upon 
 one of the encephalic organs. Excessive use of one 
 or more of the visual workshops, by which their 
 working capital is consumed more rapidly than it 
 is supplied, and more rapidly than the waste is 
 removed, may gradually lead to deterioration of 
 their power ; or may induce conditions which will 
 enable them to fabricate and transmit false visual 
 
VISIONS. 161 
 
 reports. This point will be more fully discussed 
 in another place. 
 
 Attention has already been called to the ana- 
 tomical fact that the brain is not, as it was for- 
 merly supposed to be, a single organ, but on the 
 contrary a congeries of organs. " The encephalon," 
 says Charcot, " does not represent one homoge- 
 neous organ, but rather an association or, if you 
 prefer the term, a federation, composed of a cer- 
 tain number of diverse organs. To each of these 
 organs there are physiologically attached certain 
 characteristics, functions, and distinct faculties. 
 Now the physiological characteristics of each of 
 these parts being known, it would be possible to 
 deduce from them the conditions of their patho- 
 logical state, the latter being only a modification, 
 more or less pronounced, of their normal state, 
 without the intervention of new laws."^ Such be- 
 ing the architecture of the brain, it is easy to un- 
 derstand that the circulation of blood through it, 
 and especially through its capillaries, would natu- 
 rally be proportioned, as it is in other parts of the 
 body, to the size and functional importance of the 
 organs to which it is distributed. In fact the 
 brain is not only furnished, as we have seen, with 
 a larger proportional amount of blood than any 
 other part of the body, but its different organs 
 receive different proportional amounts. The dis- 
 tribution is unequal. The gray cerebral matter 
 
 * Legons sur les Localisations dans les Maladies du Cerveau. 
 par J. M. Charcot, Professeur, etc., p. 3. Paris, 1876. 
 11 
 
162 VISIONS. 
 
 is richer in blood than the white ; the ganglionic 
 nerve centres are richer than the commissures. 
 Moreover, the natural inequality of distribution is 
 increased by exercise. Just as the exercise of a 
 particular muscle, or set of muscles, attracts more 
 blood to them than circulates through the rest of 
 the muscular system, so mental exercise causes 
 more blood to flow through the cerebral organs 
 exercised, than through other parts of the brain. 
 And as the continued use of a set of muscles for 
 months and years, within due physiological limits, 
 hypertrophies and strengthens them by increasing 
 their vascularity and nutrition, so the continued 
 physiological use of one or more intra-cranial or- 
 gans develops them, by endowing them with a 
 larger number, or greater size, or better quality of 
 elements composing them. The biceps of a car- 
 penter, blacksmith, or athlete, at the end of ten 
 or twenty years of bicipital exercise is a different, 
 stronger, and more obedient muscle than it was 
 before its training began, or than the biceps of a 
 student or clerk is apt to be ; in like manner, the 
 angular gyri and ideational cells of one trained to 
 visual effort, are different organs, because more 
 developed and of a higher power, than are the 
 visual ganglia of artisans and farmers. The visual 
 apparatus of an expert microscopist will discern, 
 through an objective of a ^5 or -^^ power, symmet- 
 rical forms and harmonious movements, where 
 an unskilled observer's eye will see only an un- 
 meaning or chaotic mass. A person who has 
 
 „tff':^lSltiL- 
 
VISIONS. 163 
 
 trained his visual ganglia to act under the influ- 
 ence of the subjective stimuli of volition, associa- 
 tion, habit, expectant attention, automatism, and 
 the like, will sometimes succeed in producing what 
 may be called a local visual hy perse mia, and so 
 attain surprising results — results which inexpert 
 experimenters cannot accomplish, and which to 
 the uninitiated seem to partake of the supernat- 
 ural. 
 
 In the physical, as in the moral world, what- 
 ever is capable of good is equally capable of evil. 
 The germs of blessing and cursing are wrapped 
 up in the same cell, and each may be developed 
 after its kind. Strychnia, which, appropriately ad- 
 ministered, will lead the nervous system to healthy 
 issues more kindly and rapidly than any other 
 drug, and without leaving a trace of ill behind, 
 possesses a deadly power, which makes its name a 
 sound of terror. Opium, one of the great blessings 
 of the human race, and one without which medi- 
 cal art would be almost impossible, — an agent so 
 useful that its chief active principle well deserves 
 its name, derived from that of an ancient divin- 
 ity, — is endowed with poisonous properties, equal 
 to its sanative virtues. It can protect, or it can 
 cut life's silver cord. So in the human system : 
 training and exercise can render an organ, or a set 
 of organs, equally capable of good and evil; of 
 health and disease ; of honest and of dishonest work. 
 As a microscopist may train his retina to photo- 
 graph, his tubercula quadrigemina to classify, his 
 
164 . VISIONS. 
 
 angular gyri to perceive, and bis frontal lobes to 
 apperceive an objective world, invisible to others ; 
 so a visionist may train bis angular gyri and 
 frontal lobes to act independently of the retina 
 and tubercula quadrigemina, and form visual cell- 
 groups, which, composed of old cell-groups and 
 modifications, will enable him to perceive and 
 apperceive a subjective woi'ld, real to him alone. 
 Thus the visual apparatus of the human brain, a 
 mechanism of which the delicacy and power has 
 only been imperfectly portrayed in the foregoing 
 pages, intended to report with wonderful accuracy 
 and minuteness the external world to the Ego, 
 may be trained to do dishonest work with equal 
 faithfulness, so as to turn objective into subjective 
 sight, orthopia into pseudopia, and to make the 
 Ego the fool of the brain. 
 
 It appears from these statements that blood 
 supplies material, which enables the cerebral ma- 
 chinery to act, or, to use an expressive French 
 term for which there is no English equivalent, — 
 to functionate. Blood is not the mechanism, but 
 it is the meclmnism's working force. As an en- 
 gineer, by turning a stream of water upon the 
 wheel of a mill, or a current of steam upon the 
 piston of an engine, puts the whole machinery in 
 action, so when light from a visible object stimu- 
 lates the visual ganglia, and turns or draws a 
 current of blood upon them, or, possibly, when 
 volition, representing the Ego, or association, or 
 emotion, or some other cerebral force, performs 
 
VISIONS. 165 
 
 the same office, the visual apparatus is set in 
 motion and sight results. The relation, tlien, of 
 blood to brain, and of course to each organ which 
 goes to make up the brain, is that of force to 
 mechanism ; and if the force, however initiated, is 
 properly applied, the mechanism will functionate. 
 Blood flowing through a set of ganglia, however, 
 like those of the visual apparatus, is more than 
 the force of water turning a mill-wheel, or than 
 that of steam moving a piston : it not only moves 
 the machinery, but it keeps the machinery in 
 repair. Nutrition is therefore included in the re- 
 lations of blood and brain, and is so intimately as- 
 sociated with the circulation, that the former can- 
 not be disconnected from the latter. Such beino^ 
 the case, it is unnecessary to refer to the influence 
 of nutrition upon the process or mechanism of 
 vision. Its influence has already been sufficiently 
 described, in describing that of the blood. 
 
 The authority of Charcot, a neuro-physiologist, 
 whose statements few will be inclined to question, 
 may be invoked in support of this view of the 
 dominant importance of the cerebral circulation 
 over other intra-cranial factors. He says : — 
 
 " The encephalon is placed, if I may use the expres- 
 sion, under a pathological regime, unlike that of other 
 portions of the neural axis. In fact, the general state- 
 ment may be made that in the encephalon, and espe- 
 cially in the brain, the vascular system (arteries, veins, 
 capillaries) controls the situation." ^ 
 
 1 Legons, etc., par J. M. Charcot, p. 46. 
 
166 VISIONS 
 
 The action of drugs on the nei've-centres of the 
 human system, and particularly on the visual ap- 
 paratus of that sj^stem, forms one of the most in- 
 teresting chapters of physiological materia medica. 
 Moreover, there is no department of physiological 
 or pathological research, in which the scieutifie 
 progress of the last quarter of a century has been 
 greater or more satisfactory than in this. Some- 
 thing like accuracy, or at least something which 
 promises to attain accuracy in the future, has 
 been readied in our knowledge of the action of 
 certain drugs upon the nervous system, and of 
 the methods of administration by which to attain 
 that action. Perhaps, also, there is nothing which 
 illustrates more clearly and convincingly the me- 
 chanical structure and working of the entire nerv- 
 ous system, cerebral as well as spinal, than the 
 facility and certainty with which it is possible, by 
 means of these drugs, to play upon it. By their 
 aid its power can be increased or diminished, all 
 its functions modified, and indirectly the action of 
 the whole organization affected. 
 
 Digitalis in appropriate doses influences the gan- 
 glionic nerve-centres of the heart and capillaries 
 in such a way as to impart steadiness and force 
 to the muscular fibres of the former, and improved 
 elasticity to those of the latter ; thus causing the 
 streams of the circulation to move with an equable 
 and natural current, into and out of every organ. 
 Calling this power to his aid, a skilful practi- 
 tioner is able, in certain forms of congestion of the 
 
 
VISIONS. 167 
 
 brain, to relieve that organ from the burden of 
 excess of blood, and, sometimes, in the opposite 
 condition of anemia, to send thither a needed sup- 
 ply. By this regulation of the cerebral circula- 
 tion, various functional disturbances of the brain, 
 ideational as well as sensory, like delirium, pseud- 
 opia, tinnitus aurium, and the like, are not in- 
 frequently removed. When strange sights and 
 sounds, accompanying congestion or anaemia of the 
 brain, or of certain localities in the brain, dis- 
 appear under the influence of an agent which re- 
 lieves the pathological condition, the inference is 
 a fair one, to say the least, that the ideational 
 or sensory derangement is produced by that condi- 
 tion. 
 
 Quinine, if the dose is large enough, acts on 
 the auditory nerve centres, producing tinnitus 
 aurium, — subjective sounds of an irregular and 
 indefinite character, it is true, but still sounds. 
 The music of a church bell is not more unmis- 
 takably heard by those in its neighborhood, than 
 is the ringing of quinine by those who have taken 
 a ringing dose of the drug. The subjective 
 sound is the result of quinine, acting in some 
 unknown way upon the circulation of the cerebral 
 auditory centres. 
 
 Frequent reference has been made in the course 
 of this essay to the reflex action of the nervous 
 system, as being one of its most important fea- 
 tures, — perhaps the most important, as well as 
 the most curious and ingenious feature of that 
 
168 VISIONS. 
 
 system. It lius been shown that all parts of the 
 nervous apparatus are endowed with a power, 
 commonly called reflex, but which physiologists 
 have also designated as excito-motory, affero-effe- 
 rent, centripeto-centrifugal, and the like ; hoping 
 thereby to describe with precision the responsive 
 character of the ganglia, distributed throughout 
 the organization, and presiding alike over its sim- 
 ple and its complex functions. There are drugs, 
 unlike in their physiological action those just 
 mentioned, which exert a remarkable influence 
 over reflex action, and which enable a physiolog- 
 ical engineer to call it forth, or to repress it, al- 
 most as readily and freely as the engineer of a 
 locomotive, by the pressure of his thumb on a 
 valve, can increase or diminish the force of steam 
 in his engine. This action of drugs illustrates 
 the mechanical nature of the nervous system, not 
 less clearly than the pressure of an engineer's 
 thumb does that of his engine. It is worthy of 
 note, however, that the ego of the human system, 
 whose volition enables the prescribed drug to be 
 taken, is no more to be confounded with his en- 
 gine, than the engineer, the pressure of whose 
 thumb lets on the force of steam, is to be con- 
 founded with his. 
 
 By means of strychnia the reflex action of the 
 nervous system, and especially of the spinal nerve 
 centres, may be augmented indefinitely. They 
 can be rendered so sensitive by it, that thej will 
 respond by convulsive muscular twitchings to the 
 
VISIONS. 169 
 
 slightest contact of a single hair, to the touch of 
 a feather, or to the wave of a breath of air ; and 
 the convulsive action may be increased, by in- 
 crease of dose, till rapid death follows. The 
 ideational centres of the frontal lobes, and the 
 cerebral sensory centres of sight and hearing, are 
 less amenable to the influence of strychnia than 
 the spinal cord and lower nerve centres : an indi- 
 cation or hint that the higher functions require 
 for their performance less reflex or automatic 
 power than the lower. How it is that strychnia 
 accomplishes the result of increasing reflex sensi- 
 bility is still an unsolved problem. Possibly, as 
 some suppose, by a process of oxygenation in the 
 nerve centres themselves ; or perhaps, as an in- 
 genious experiment of Brown-Sequard implies, by 
 the local irritation of direct contact with nerve 
 tissue.^ 
 
 The bromide of potassium, bromide of sodium, 
 bromide of ammonium, bromide of lithium, and 
 their congeners, exert upon reflex action an influ- 
 ence, the opposite of that induced by strychnia. 
 They repress it, and in suSiciently large doses 
 nearly, if not quite abolish it. Their repressive 
 action, however, is by no means limited to the 
 spinal cord, but extends up to the sensory and 
 
 ^ Professor Brown-Sequai'd, as he himself informed the author, 
 succeeded iu lajring bare a section of a frog's nerve without de- 
 stroying its central or peripheral connections, depriving it com- 
 pletely of blood, and preventing the access of blood to it. He 
 then applied stryclinia to it with the result of producing twitch- 
 ing in the muscles innervated by it. 
 
170 VISIONS. 
 
 ideational centres. It is possible by an appro- 
 priate administration of these agents to dull, with- 
 out destroying, the general reflex sensibility of 
 the nervous system, and to act on the cerebrum in 
 such a way as to produce a degree of hebetude 
 simulating imbecility. Ideation is not abolished, 
 but rendered sluggish. The visual and auditory 
 centres perceive sights and sounds, and report 
 them to the frontal lobes, where they are received 
 with indifference.. Apperception is more dulled 
 than perception. It is a curious and interesting 
 fact that a bromized individual, in spite of the in- 
 hibitory influence to which he is subjected, can, 
 by a strong volitional effort, arouse his sleepy 
 attention and blunted faculties, and compel them 
 to work effectively, showing, that manifestation 
 of power, not power itself, is interfered with by 
 the bromides. Another phenomenon following 
 the administration of bromidal preparations is 
 sleep. This occurs so constantly, that they are 
 now very generally employed for the relief of cer- 
 tain forms of insomnia. Physiologists have shown 
 that bromides, by means of the vaso-motor nerves, 
 produce contraction of the capillaries, and espe- 
 cially of those of the brain. The quantity and 
 mode of administration, necessary to produce this 
 effect, are the quantity and mode of administra- 
 tion necessary to produce the phenomena above 
 described ; indicating clearly that the mental heb- 
 etude, sluggish movement, and somnolent con- 
 dition, are the results of diminished circulation of 
 
VISIONS. 171 
 
 blood through the capillaries of the nerve centres ; 
 an additional proof of the dependence of cerebral 
 phenomena upon the circulation through the cere- 
 bral structures. 
 
 The drugs, hitherto considered, illustrate the 
 mechanical machinery of the nervous system as a 
 whole. It is possible to pursue the illustration 
 still further, and to show that by means of drugs 
 one portion of the nervous system can be called 
 into activity, and another portion, intimately as- 
 sociated with the one affected and apparently a 
 component part of it, be left quiescent. Many, 
 perhaps all the centres of motion and sensation 
 are constructed so that they seem to be a unit. 
 The sensation of pain, for example, following a 
 wound upon the finger, is carried along a sensory 
 nerve to a nervous centre, where the sensation is 
 translated, as we have previously seen, into mo- 
 tion, and reflected along a motor nerve to a set of 
 muscles, by which the finger is removed from the 
 place of danger. Commonly when a sensori-motor 
 centre is paralyzed, or destroyed by disease or 
 other cause, both motion and sensation are taken 
 away. An individual so affected can neither feel 
 the injury, nor move the injured part ; he does 
 not know that his finger is wounded, nor possess 
 the power of escape. Sensation and motion, which 
 the mind easily recognizes as distinct from each 
 other, and which consciousness perceives and acts 
 upon as separate and dissimilar factors, have their 
 distinct organic representatives in the cell struc- 
 
172 VISIONS. 
 
 tures of the nerve centres ; and yet it is impossible 
 to distinguish and isolate by chemical analysis, 
 anatomical dissection, or microscopical exploration, 
 a cell which recognizes sensation, from one which 
 determines motion. This difference, which the 
 mind perceives, but of which our gross means of 
 investigation cannot discover the mechanism and 
 into which no scalpel, laboratory, or lens has 
 hitherto penetrated, drugs have made clear. The 
 physostigma venenosum, a kidney -shaped bean 
 from Calabar in Africa, which the natives of that 
 region have long employed as an ordeal test for 
 criminals, possesses the property of diminishing, 
 and in sufficient doses of annihilating all reflex 
 power, so that complete muscular flaccidity fol- 
 lows its administration. At the same time sensi- 
 bility persists, as long as it is possible to obtain 
 any evidence of it. Motion is taken away, but 
 sensation remains. The pain of heat and cold 
 and injury is still reported to the ganglionic nerve 
 centres, but their ability to remove the body from 
 the offending spot, or to expel the offending cause, 
 no longer exists. The drug acts on the nerve 
 cells of motion, and leaves those of sensation 
 unaffected. The central translation of sensation 
 into motion is abolished — that link in the mech- 
 anism is broken, — a demonstration, tliat the dif- 
 ference between sensation and motion, which the 
 mind accepts, is organically represented in the 
 nervous apparatus. In the age of martyrdom, 
 martyrs were fastened to the stake beyond escape, 
 
VISIONS. 173 
 
 and so compelled to suffer the utmost torture of 
 the flames. What the church and the law in- 
 flicted as a punishment for heresy and crime, by- 
 means of cords and chains which compelled muscu- 
 lar inactivity, modern physiology has accomplished 
 by a harmless looking alkaloid. How the old tor- 
 turers would have rejoiced in the possession of an 
 article, the administration of which would have 
 enabled them to tie their victim to the fire by an 
 invisible force, capable of preventing all escape 
 and pveserving all the agony ; and so to roast him 
 alive, enforcing, with fiendish ingenuity, a night- 
 mare of awful suffering and impossible escape ! 
 
 In addition to the drugs just cited as agents, 
 capable, by their physiological action, of illustrat- 
 ing the division of the nervous system into various 
 and distinct faculties, and which exhibit this di- 
 vision, chiefly by their influence over its reflex 
 mechanism and spinal centres, there are others 
 which bring the same fact into clear light by their 
 action on the higher sensory ganglia, and their 
 influence over the cerebral functions of emotion, 
 ideation, and volition. The principal medicinal 
 agents of this class are opium, Indian hemp, 
 alcohol, ether, chloroform, and belladonna with 
 its congeners. These are among the most im- 
 portant articles of the materia medica. They 
 derive their therapeutic position, to a large ex- 
 tent, from their power to select for their action 
 certain important parts of the nervous system in 
 preference to others, and to act efficiently upon 
 
174 VISIONS. 
 
 the selected portions. A brief allusioti to their 
 physiological behavior in this respect will be suffi- 
 cient for the object before us. 
 
 Opium is so generally known as an anodyne, 
 soporific, and poison, that its power to stimulate 
 tlie frontal half of the brain is often overlooked or 
 depreciated ; and yet its action, in this respect, is 
 not less important than its power over other por- 
 tions of the nervous system. A great variety of 
 symptoms, many of them apparently conflicting 
 with each other, have been reported by different 
 physiologists, as the result of its administration to 
 men and animals. Without undertaking to rec- 
 oncile these differences, an effort foreign to our 
 present purpose, it may be safely asserted, as Dr. 
 H. C. Wood, Jr., has shown, that after a careful 
 survey of the symptoms, two classes of phenom- 
 ena, one spinal, the other cerebral, stand out prom- 
 inently, as the physiological result of opium. To 
 this should be added the statement that in as- 
 cending the scale of being from the lowest to the 
 highest forms of animal life, the spinal phenomena 
 predominate in the lowest, and the cerebral in 
 the highest. The brain of man is more actively 
 and peculiarly affected by opium, than that of the 
 lower animals ; and of his brain, the higher and 
 most complex ganglia ai'e more susceptible to its 
 action than the lower and less complex. This 
 varying action of opium on different individuals, 
 and on different parts of the brain in the same in- 
 dividual, is of course less evident in lethal than 
 
VISIONS. 175 
 
 in non-lethal closes. De Quincey's desci-iption of 
 the pains and pleasures of opium, which must be 
 taken cum grano salis, for it has the flavor of an 
 opium-eater's imagination, is correct, in so far as 
 it paints the influence of the article on the emo- 
 tions, the imagination, the intellect, and the will. 
 His personal experience was a vivid illustration 
 of the elective action of opium on the intra-cranial 
 apparatus. 
 
 A stimulus or irritant, applied to a nerve, will 
 call into greater or less activity the special func- 
 tion of the ganglionic nerve centre with which 
 that nerve is connected, and of the force of which 
 it is a conductor ; and it will not develop any 
 other sensation or force, than that which is the 
 special property of the part stimulated. Irrita- 
 tion of a nerve of sensation causes pain, and ex- 
 cept by a reflex act, does not cause motion. Irri- 
 tation of a motor nerve will cause motion, not 
 pain. Irritation of the auditory nerve gives rise 
 to sound, and not to pain or motion. Cutting or 
 pinching the optic nerve produces a flash of light, 
 and not pain, movement, or sound. Irritation of 
 the salivary nerves excites a flow of saliva, with- 
 out exciting pain, motion, light, or sound. The 
 same law pervades the whole nervous system. 
 Each organic centre can be stimulated to do its 
 own work, but not that of its neighbors or con- 
 nections ; and each will act normally only under 
 its own appropriate stimulus. The auditory gan- 
 glia respond to waves of sound, not to those of 
 
176 VISIONS. 
 
 light ; the optic ganglia to waves of light, not to 
 those of sound. The converse of this is equally 
 true. When a stimulus succeeds in arousing an 
 organ into activity, the action produced is that 
 organ's function. If opium, by stimulating the 
 frontal lobes, produces ideation, it is because idea- 
 tion is the function of those lobes. Hence the 
 value of the following graphic account, by De 
 Quincey, of the movement of his brain under 
 opium. It also illustrates the power which the 
 brain possesses, and which has previously been 
 dwelt upon, of reviving past impressions. 
 
 " The minutest incidents of childhood," says the bril- 
 liant essayist, " or forgotten scenes of later years, were 
 often revived. I could not be said to recollect them ; 
 for if I had been told of them when waking, I should 
 not have been able to acknowledge them as parts of my 
 past experience. But placed as they were before me, 
 in dreams like intuitions, and clothed in all their evan- 
 escent circumstances and accompanying feelings, I recog- 
 nized them instantaneously. I was once told by a near 
 relative of mine, that having in her childhood fallen into 
 a river, and being on the very verge of death, but for 
 the critical assistance which reached her, she saw in a 
 moment her whole life, in its minutest incidents, arrayed 
 before her simultaneously as in a mirror; and she had 
 a faculty developed as suddenly for comprehending the 
 whole and every part. This, from some opium experi- 
 ences of mine, I can believe ; I have, indeed, seen the 
 same thing asserted twice in modern books, and accom- 
 panied by a remark which I am convinced is true, 
 namely, that the dread book of account, which the Scrip- 
 
VISIONS. 177 
 
 tures speak of, is, in fact, the mind itself of each individ- 
 ual. Of this, at least, I feel assured, that there is no 
 such thing as forgetting possible to the mind ; a thou- 
 sand accidents may and will interpose a veil between 
 our present consciousness and the secret inscriptions on 
 the mind. Accidents of the same sort will also rend 
 away this veil; but alike, whether veiled or unveiled, 
 the inscription remains forever; just as the stars seem 
 to withdraw before the common light of day, whereas^ 
 in fact, we all know that it is the light which is drawn 
 over them as a veil; and that they are waiting to be 
 revealed, when the obscuring daylight shall have with- 
 drawn." ^ 
 
 This, so far as a single case can be of value, is 
 a psychological confirmation of the physiological 
 inference from the experiments of Ferrier and 
 others, that the frontal lobes of the brain contain 
 a large portion, if not all, of the mechanism of 
 ideation and volition. Stimulated by opium, De 
 Quincey's brain not only reproduced cell-group- 
 ings, which were organic foundations of ideal pic- 
 tures — memories — of long past scenes, but also 
 effected organic modifications, which enabled him 
 to reason about them. He saw the past; satisfied 
 himself that it was his past, and drew therefrom 
 certain corollaries as to the working of his own 
 brain. It does not appear that he saw, even in 
 his opiated dreams, sensory pictures, but only 
 ideational ones. The mechanical explanation of 
 
 1 Confessions of an EiigJish Opium-Eater, by Thomas De Quin- 
 cey, Am. ed., 8vo, 1869, pp. 110, 111. 
 12 
 
178 VISIONS. 
 
 his psychological experience in this respect is this. 
 In childhood, vivid sensory pictures were painted 
 on the visual centres of his brain. These were 
 telegraphed to the ideational visual centres of his 
 frontal lobes, where correspondingly vivid idea- 
 tional pictures were produced. -In adult life, these 
 lobes, excited by opium carried thither by the 
 blood, reproduced the visual cell-groupings of his 
 childhood, and the emotions and ideas correspond- 
 ing to them. The angular gyri were less affected 
 than the visual centres higher up. This is, in 
 fact, what would be expected from the physiolog- 
 ical action of opium, an agent which produces 
 subjective, rather than objective visions. The 
 testimony of an acute observer, like De Quincey, 
 to the existence within his personal experience of 
 intra-cranial pictorial representations, is peculiarly 
 valuable, though he did not recognize the distinc- 
 tion between cerebral sensory, and cerebral ideal 
 pictures ; a distinction essential to a just compre- 
 hension of the phenomena of pseudopia. 
 
 Both Calabar bean and opium possess the power 
 of causing iridal contraction ; and this they do in 
 virtue of their influence over the visual apparatus, 
 independently of their action on the cerebral tis- 
 sues in general. This power is another instance 
 of the elective afiinity of these agents for certain 
 ganglionic nerve centres in preference to others, 
 and lends additional confirmation to the doctrine, 
 that the process of vision is not confided to the 
 eye alone, but to a complex apparatus extending 
 
VISIONS. 179 
 
 well ijito the brain. It is a curious and sugges- 
 tive circumstance, to say the least, that an article, 
 like opium, capable of exciting the cerebral hemi- 
 spheres to the production of ideational pictures, 
 should also be able to excite to contraction that 
 part of the visual mechanism, which serves as the 
 original gateway for the entrance into the brain of 
 photographic pictures of the outer world. Doubt- 
 less, by and by, something more than coincidence 
 or simultaneousness of action will be discerned 
 between these two phenomena. 
 
 Cannabis Indica, called haschisch in its native 
 country, Indian hemp in Europe and America, is 
 a worthy member of the materia medica, though 
 its therapeutic virtues are much less valuable 
 than those of opium. It possesses great interest, 
 however, for the psychological physiologist, on 
 account of its peculiar and extraordinary power 
 over the brain ; exerting upon some of the gan- 
 glia a singular influence, and affecting them all 
 more or less. It does not lead the brain to revive 
 past experiences, so much as to pervert and distort 
 existing ones. Its vulgar East Indian appellation 
 of hashisch, from which some derive the English 
 term assassin, is said to be indicative of its influ- 
 ence over the brain of those who chew it, and 
 who often commit, under its delirium-producing 
 action, all sorts of excesses, even the assassination 
 ^f those they meet. It is a moderate anodyne 
 and soporific, incapable of inducing either the 
 profound anaesthesia or sleep characteristic of the 
 
180 VISIONS. 
 
 cerebral action of opium ; on the other hand, it 
 exerts over parts of the brain a more marked in- 
 fluence than that drug. Its physiological action is, 
 therefore, a forcible illustration of the functional 
 independence of those nerve centres upon which 
 its energy is expended. Every instance of this 
 sort renders more probable, if it does not demon- 
 strate, the existence of distinct organic centres in 
 tlie anterior lobes for the perception, analysis, and 
 reproduction of impressions like ideational pic- 
 tures. 
 
 Ideas of time and space have always afforded 
 to metaphysicians a large opportunity for a great 
 deal of subtle discussion and useless speculation. 
 Without taking part in their metaphysical gym- 
 nastics, it may be justly observed that it is impor- 
 tant, both for physiologists and psychologists, to 
 recognize the probable existence in the brain of an 
 organ concerned with the manifestation of notions 
 of time and space, and perhaps exclusively devoted 
 to the apperception of such ideas. Independent- 
 ly, however, of all abstract and a priori consid- 
 erations, the physiological fact appears — let the 
 metaphysician interpret it as he can, — that can- 
 nabis Indica, taken in sufficient quantity, possesses 
 the power of imparting to conceptions of time and 
 space a singular degree of magnitude or extension. 
 In accordance with the physiological law, that a 
 ganglionic nerve centre can only be made to ex- 
 hibit a power of which the manifestation is con- 
 fided to its organization, it is fair to infer, tliat if 
 
VISIONS. 181 
 
 an artificial stimulus can be applied so as to de- 
 velop or exaggerate ideas of time and space, there 
 must be an organic provision in the brain for that 
 purpose. It is an established physiological phe- 
 nomenon that cannabis Indica is capable of ex- 
 citing and strangely developing these ideas. De 
 Quincey fancied that he discovered the same vir- 
 tues in opium from the character of his dreams 
 after taking laudanum. His statements in this re- 
 spect have not been confirmed by other observers, 
 and are undoubtedly fanciful ; but even if they are 
 not true of the dreams of opium, they are a graphic 
 description of the time-and-space-magnifying prop- 
 erties of Indian hemp ; a description, the accuracy 
 of which I have repeatedly been able to verify by 
 the experience of those who have taken the drug 
 under my professional care. " The sense of space," 
 says the brilliant Opium -lover, " and in the end 
 the sense of time, were both powerfully affected. 
 Buildings, landscapes, etc., were exhibited in pro- 
 portions 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 vast expan- 
 sion of time. I sometimes seemed to have lived 
 for seventy or one 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 ex- 
 perience." ^ One of my medical friends noticed 
 ^ Confessions, etc., p. 110. 
 
182 VISIONS. 
 
 a similar effect in his own person after taking 
 cannabis Indica. Ascending a flight of stairs, 
 from his sitting-room to his bedchamber, seemed 
 to occupy time enough for a journey from Boston 
 to Washington and back. It required a century 
 for the windhig up of his watch. 
 
 The following case happily illustrates the power 
 of cannabis Indica to play with the human brain, 
 and to act on the visual apparatus, as well as on 
 the higher ideo-motor centres. 
 
 Three members of the medical class of Harvard 
 University, after one of my lectures on the phys- 
 iological action of cannabis Indica, determined to 
 test the accuracy of the statements to which they 
 had listened, by experiments with the article upon 
 themselves. They accordingly procured some of 
 it, and each took a portion. After taking it they 
 remained together about an hour. At the end of 
 this period, the whole party began to feel "queer," 
 and thought their wisest course was to go, each to 
 his own home. Before separating, they agreed to 
 meet each other the next day and report and 
 compare experiences. Two of the number found 
 it necessary to exercise a moderate degree of self 
 control, in order to get home without exciting ob- 
 servation. On reaching home they were garru- 
 lous and uneasy, had a quick pulse and were 
 sleepy ; so sleepy, that they went immediately to 
 bed and to sleep^ Their sleep Was sound. On 
 the next inorning they awoke in their usual con- 
 dition. Such was their experience. 
 
VISIONS. 1 83 
 
 The third experimenter did not get off so easily 
 as his companions. Older than most medical 
 students and more fortunate, he was a married 
 man, and possessed a house of his own. It was 
 two miles or more from the place of parting with 
 his companions to his home, and he shortened the 
 way by getting into a car or omnibus. Soon 
 after taking his seat he was strongly impressed 
 with a sense of his own importance, with the 
 size, symmetry, and beauty of his person, and 
 with the comparative insignificance of those about 
 him. This impression became so strong that he 
 felt compelled to speak of it. Accordingly, call- 
 ing the conductor to his side, he expatiated upon 
 his personal attractions, and especially dwelt upon 
 the size and shape of his arms and thighs, and 
 did not fail to comment upon the excellence of 
 his general make-up. He likewise remarked upon 
 the lilliputian aspect of his fellow passengers. 
 He, himself, was not an Apollo. The conduc- 
 tor attempted no reply to these criticisms. Pres- 
 ently the student, who may be called Mr. K., 
 again addressed the conductor, and rehearsing 
 the matter in a loud tone, advised him to put 
 the passengers out of the carriage, as persons 
 unfit to ride there; and as especially unfit to be 
 in the neighborhood of so august a personage as 
 Mr. K. By this time he was near his residence. 
 The car stopped. The conductor, charitably sup- 
 posing liquor had provoked such odd behavior, 
 kindly offered to assist Mr. K. to the sidewalk. 
 
184 VISIONS. 
 
 All offers of aid were refused with imperial dig- 
 nity and decision. He soon reached home. The 
 ideas of grandeur and importance with which his 
 own person had inspired him, attached themselves 
 to his house; he stopped before entering, to ad- 
 mire the magnificence of its portal and its palatial 
 facade. He entered. The hall was imposing ; 
 the stairway grand. His library equalled the 
 Bodleian. His wife was a princess ; and so on 
 through all his belongings. Suddenly the scene 
 changed. He acquired double consciousness, and 
 became two persons, — two distinct individuali- 
 ties. One was a notable physician, the other an 
 indigent patient. He proceeded, in the character 
 of a physician, to examine himself in the charac- 
 ter of a patient. Consciousness No. 1 discovered 
 a serious affection in the body of consciousness 
 No. 2. No. 1 went into his office and obtained 
 some surgical instruments, with which he under- 
 took to operate on No. 2 ; having stretched the 
 latter for the purpose on a sofa. These singular 
 doings alarmed Mrs. K., who, fearing for her hus- 
 band's sanity, sent for a physician. In the mean 
 time, consciousness No. 1 had dismissed con- 
 sciousness No. 2, and recognized instead a crim- 
 inal, who on account of some misdemeanor in pri- 
 son had been condemned to the punishment of a 
 shower bath. Obedient to this notion, conscious- 
 ness No. 1 administered a shower bath to con- 
 sciousness No. 2. The physician who had been 
 summoned by Mrs. K. arrived in the midst of the 
 
VISIONS. 185 
 
 bath. The result of his investigation was the con- 
 dusion, not an unnatural one under the circum- 
 stances, that Mr. K. was drunk. By this time 
 the soporific influence of the drug began to assert 
 itself, so that only"" a little urgency was necessary 
 in order to induce Mr. K. to go to bed. A sleep 
 of about twelve hours put an end to further ex- 
 travagances. 
 
 On the next day Mr. K. retained a vivid recol- 
 lection of the various phases through which he 
 had passed. He remembered distinctly the con- 
 viction he entertained, while under the power of 
 cannabis Indica, of the reality of each scene he 
 witnessed, and of the part he played in it. The 
 fact of double consciousness stood out in his mem- 
 ory with peculiar prominence. He did not experi- 
 ence the amplification of time and space like De 
 Quincey, but the idea of size which he attached 
 to his person and belongings, and the presumed 
 length of time which he spent in his various 
 operations, require a similar amplification of those 
 conceptions. The pictures of grandeur and beauty 
 which his own person, that of his wife, and his 
 house exhibited, in all the reality of actual pres- 
 entation, indicated unequivocal derangement of 
 his visual apparatus. It is evident that no new 
 ideas or pictures were produced by the action 
 of his brain in its novel condition. Old ones 
 in part or in whole were reproduced, amplified, 
 jumbled together, or otherwise perverted. In 
 physiological terms, the cell-groupings and cell- 
 
186 VISIONS. 
 
 modifications, which had previously been formed, 
 were partially reproduced in greater or less dis- 
 order, with a corresponding disorder of ideas. 
 Like the explosion of a shell in the midst of a 
 battalion, which throws the troops into strange 
 combinations of confusion and rout, or the violent 
 unrhythmical striking of the keys of a piano, 
 yielding sound without music, the passage of can- 
 nabis Indica through the cells of Mr. K.'s brain 
 produced singularly disordered cell combinations, 
 and ideas without reason. 
 
 Alcohol has probably caused more visions, such 
 as they are, than all other drugs combined. It 
 also has been, and still is, a prolific source of dis- 
 cussion and bone of contention. Even its physio- 
 logical action, a purely scientific matter, has be- 
 come a question of popular debate ; and those 
 who are ignorant alike of the rudiments of physi- 
 ological chemistry and of experimental research, 
 discuss the relation of alcohol to the system, and 
 criticize the results of modern investigation with 
 regard to it, as if they were profound experts. 
 Fortunately it is not necessary for the purpose of 
 this essay, to discuss any of the questions, scientific 
 or moral, which teetotallers, their opponents, or 
 reformei's of any sort, have raised with regard to 
 alcohol. The visions of alcohol are matters, about 
 the existence of which there is no doubt. 
 
 Alcohol is the active principle of all sorts of 
 ardent spirits, wines, ales, beers, and the like. 
 They differ from each other in various ingredi- 
 
VISIONS. 187 
 
 ents, as acids, etlierial oils, flavoring and coloring 
 substances, which render them more or less agree- 
 able to the palate, the stomach, and the constitu- 
 tion of different individuals, and which give to 
 them a varying therapeutic value ; but after all, 
 that to which they owe their chief importance is 
 alcohol. Without that constituent, they would 
 do very little good or harm in the world. Alcohol 
 is the devil or angel, always lurking at the bottom 
 of the cup. It hides in the rich man's bottle, and 
 in the poor man's dram. Any of these liquors, 
 taken in sufficient quantity, and for a sufficient 
 length of time, will disturb the nervous system, 
 peculiarly affect the visual apparatus, and lead to 
 dreams and visions. 
 
 As might be expected, the pseudopia of alcohol 
 has a character of its own. The visions of opium, 
 however distinct and fascinating, are subjective, 
 soothing to the general nervous system, and stim- 
 ulating to the imagination. The opium-eater loves 
 to retire into a corner, away from a crowd, wrap 
 himself up in revery, and gaze on his pictures in 
 silence. The visions of cannabis Indica are ob- 
 jective, magnificent, and commanding. He who 
 takes it projects the disordered figments of his 
 own brain into space, makes them imperial, and 
 becomes the autocrat of his imperial world. The 
 visions of alcohol are objective, confused, and tur- 
 bulent. Less imaginative than those of opium, 
 less royal than those of Indian hemp, they endow 
 ordinary scenes and objects with life, and with 
 
188 VISIONS. 
 
 life which is often ridiculous, sometimes tragic, 
 and always vulgar. Lying on his bed, the victim 
 of delirium tremens converts the rude pictures of 
 his papered walls into a living and active pano- 
 rama, transforming its irregular lines into crawl- 
 ing snakes and creeping things, its shadows into 
 hobgoblins, and all about him into strange shapes. 
 In the movement of his bedclothes, he sees the 
 phmghig of unnatural animals ; giants in busts 
 and plaster casts ; and tlie face of a devil in the 
 countenance of his wife ; he hears the cries of the 
 damned in the voices of his children ; and sur- 
 rounds himself with scenes of unutterable horror, 
 the distortions or caricatures of his surroundings. 
 Commonly the emotion of fear is excited by the 
 shapes and horrors which alcohol evokes, or at 
 least simultaneously with them. The drunkard 
 is timid. He tries to conceal himself in his bed- 
 clothes from his tormentors, or to run from them, 
 or in despair and self-defence to kill them. Often 
 bombastic and vain, he rarely manifests true cour- 
 age. 
 
 Irregular muscular action is characteristic of 
 alcoholic intoxication. The tottering gait of the 
 drunkard is unfortunately too well known ; but it 
 is not so well known that occasionally incoordina- 
 tion of muscular action affects the ocular muscles, 
 generally the internal rectus, thereby producing 
 double vision. This is another instance of an 
 agent, which, to the power of inducing cerebral 
 pseudopia, joins that of affecting the ocular appa- 
 
VISIONS. 189 
 
 ratus. Opium and cannabis Indica, as already 
 stated, contract the ii-is ; belladonna, as will be 
 mentioned presently, dilates it ; alcohol disturbs 
 the action of the eye-ball. Perhaps it might be 
 expected that agents, which act decidedly on one 
 part of the visual machinery, would afEect other 
 parts also. A drug, which has the power of de- 
 ranging the irides, might extend its influence a 
 little farther up, and take hold of the cells of the 
 yisual ganglia, giving rise to motion in the iris, 
 and visions above. 
 
 Alcohol does not produce pseudopia so readily as 
 opium, cannabis Indica, belladonna, and the like. 
 A single dose, or a few doses of these agents is 
 often sufficient to excite the visual apparatus to 
 activity. One dose of alcohol may intoxicate the 
 person who ventures to take it, and lead to a 
 great deal of nervous disorder, but will rarely if 
 ever call up visions. They occur only after it has 
 been taken long enough to bring about an organic 
 change in cerebral nerve tissue ; and then they 
 appear as one of the results of that change, rather 
 than as a direct effect of alcohol. The organic 
 changes which alcoholic liquids induce in the vis- 
 ual ganglia, deprive those centres of their normal 
 accuracy of perception. Probably the angular 
 gyri and ideational centres are more profoundly 
 affected than the tubercula quadrigemina and ocu- 
 lar apparatus. In like manner the same agent 
 gradually deprives the motor ganglia of locomo- 
 tive perception and action, and hence general mus- 
 
] no VISIONS. 
 
 cular tremor and incoordinated gait. Thei-e is an 
 analogy between a drunkard's visions and liis step. 
 Occasionally, however, bis visions instead of being 
 absurd and confused embrace distinct and intelli- 
 gible objects. Thus in the first of the previous 
 series of cases, the black dog which appeared to 
 the patient was neither a caricature nor a monster, 
 but bore a normal canine shape and expression. 
 The cerebral cell-groups, which were the hiero- 
 glyphic of that dog, were reproduced by the alco- 
 holized brain, excited by some unknown stimulus. 
 The visions caused by ether and chloroform 
 resemble those of hysteria and ordinary febrile 
 delirium, rather than those which follow opium 
 or cannabis Indica. In some respects they are 
 like those of an alcoholized brain. During pro- 
 found anaesthesia, ideational as well as sensory 
 action is abolished. When the system is put un- 
 der the influence of the inhalation of ether, there 
 are first a sense of exhilaration and fulness in the 
 head, combined generally with tinnitus aurium. 
 " These are soon succeeded by a feeling of the 
 immediate surroundings being afar off, and. this 
 soon fades into semi-unconsciousness with visions 
 and illusions. These are of various characters, 
 and are often accompanied by a species of delir- 
 ium. Some patients weep, others laugh; some 
 shout, some pray, some rave, and some become* 
 exceedingly pugnacious."^ Etherization admira- 
 
 1 Therapeutics, Materia Medica, etc., by G. C. "Wood, Jr., 
 p. 242. 
 
VISIONS. 191 
 
 bly brings out the anatomical arrangement of the 
 nervous system in distinct centres, and their cor- 
 responding separate functional action. According 
 to Flourens, " the order of the involvement of the 
 nerve-centres (by inhalation of ether) in man and 
 animals, is .first, the cerebrum, next the sensory 
 centres of the cord, next the motor centres of 
 the cord, next the sensory centres of the medulla 
 oblongata, and finally, the motor centres of the 
 medulla oblongata." ^ If the anatomist had not 
 discovered the distinct centres or stations of the 
 cerebro-spinal system, the physiologist would be 
 warranted in asserting their existence from the 
 phenomena of etherization. Ether puts to sleep 
 one function of the nervous system after another. 
 Step by step, it ascends from the lowest to the 
 highest — from the simplest to the most complex 
 — parts of the mechanism of life, destroying the 
 power of each part as it mounts, till all vital 
 manifestation is annihilated. The functions cease 
 separately and in a certain regular order. The 
 inference is inevitable that each function disap- 
 pears, because the organ to which the function is 
 attached is controlled by ether, and prevented 
 from functionating. So, by parity of reasoning, if 
 an ideational function of vision can be called into 
 activity or abolished by artificial means, like opium 
 or alcohol, which act on the frontal lobes, the ex- 
 istence of an organic centre in those lobes, above 
 the angular gyri, may be fairly inferred. Bella- 
 
 1 Therapeutics, Materia Medica, etc., by G. C. Wood, Jr., p. 243, 
 
192 VISIONS. 
 
 donna, liyoscyamus, and stramonium add their 
 testimony to that of the drugs ah'eady quoted. 
 All of these, in sufficient doses, give rise to a pe- 
 culiar, whimsical and muttering sort of delirium, 
 accompanied with visual disturbance, showing their 
 power to call into action the ideo-motor and vis- 
 ual centres. All of them also possess the power, 
 whether administered locally or internally, of di- 
 lating the pupil, and are used by oculists for that 
 purpose : an additional illustration of the fact, 
 that medicinal agents which affect one part of the 
 mechanism of vision affect other parts of it also. 
 
 The doctrine of these pages, that the process of 
 vision is confided to a mechanism consisting of 
 distinct parts, each part being under the control 
 of a centre or ganglion, the whole united, however, 
 so as to form a unit, is confirmed, as our state- 
 ments have indicated, by the teachings of physiol- 
 ogy, and the results of experimental investigation. 
 It has also been shown that this process, ordinarily 
 and normally called into action by external objects, 
 as living beings and natural scenes, may also be 
 called into action, subjectively, by such factors as 
 emotion, association, habit, expectant attention, 
 automatism, blood supply, drugs, and influences 
 which accompany these forces. It remains to ex- 
 amine the relation of disease and volition to the 
 process under consideration. 
 
 Unfortunately our knowledge of the pathology 
 of the nervous system, and especially of the brain, 
 is yet in its infancy. Nor is this all. Recent in- 
 
 'Mf^ 
 
VISIONS. 193 
 
 vestigations, both clinical and experimental, show 
 that much which was supposed to be knowledge 
 in this direction is largely mixed with error ; and 
 that consequently the whole territory of nervous 
 pathology must be restudied, — a labor which some 
 of the ablest medical scientists of the present 
 day have undertaken. Such being the case, it is 
 scarcely to be expected that so minute a portion 
 of this territory as that appropriated to the 
 mechanism of vision should have received much 
 attention as yet. Something, however, has been 
 accomplished in the way of unravelling the mys- 
 teries of nervous affections, and what has been 
 done throws considerable light upon the subject 
 of our present inquiry. The phenomena of dis- 
 ease sometimes point the way to an explanation 
 of the phenomena of health. 
 
 The eye itself is frequently attacked by disease. 
 Its pathology as well as its physiology has been 
 carefully explored, and it may be safely asserted 
 that, at the present time, ophthalmology ap- 
 proaches nearer to an exact science than any 
 other branch of medicine. But the eye is only 
 one part of the machinery of vision ; and being 
 the most external part, is more easily studied, and 
 its diseases are more readily recognized than is 
 the case with the deeper seated portions of the 
 same machinery. The intra-cranial sections of 
 the visual apparatus, hid in the recesses of the 
 brain, are not readily accessible to investigation, 
 and have been studied chiefly as a part of the 
 
 13 
 
194 VISIONS. 
 
 general cerebral mass. A knowledge of them 
 and their diseases is not less necessary to a com- 
 prehension of all the phenomena of orthopia and 
 pseudopia than an acquaintance with those of the 
 eye itself. But the diseases of this obscure region 
 are not better known, to say the least, than affec- 
 tions of the brain, of which it forms a part. 
 
 Another and serious difficulty in the way of ob- 
 taining from the study of cerebral diseases the 
 light which they might be naturally expected to 
 throw upon the process and phenomena of vision, 
 is to be found in the fact that they are rarely 
 limited to the visual territory, but commonly ex- 
 tend beyond it. A clot of blood, effused into the 
 angular gyri, is not often confined there, but in- 
 volves, by its size or by the morbid action it sets 
 up, the auditory centre and more or less of the 
 neighboring motor centres. A lesion affecting 
 the tubercula quadrigemina is rarely limited to 
 the tubercles, but takes hold of the surrounding 
 region also. In such cases it is always difficult, 
 often impossible, to discriminate between symp- 
 toms produced by a lesion of a visual centre alone, 
 and those produced by derangement of a consider- 
 able tract, of which the centre forms a part. In 
 spite of these difficulties, a careful study of cases 
 of cerebral disease, involving a part or the whole 
 of the machinery of vision, and a comparison of 
 them with the results of direct experiment, have 
 already led to many new and valuable conclusions. 
 When, as now and then happens, a lesion is lim- 
 
VISIONS. 195 
 
 ited to one or more parts of the visual apparatus, 
 the investigation of it, correspondingly simplified, 
 yields results of the highest importance to phys- 
 iology and pathology. These pages have been 
 enriched by two or three such cases, reported by 
 Charcot. Clinical observation yields, moreover, a 
 large number of cases of non-fatal diseases of the 
 brain, which illustrate and to some extent explain 
 the subject of visions. Fevers of all sorts, many 
 cerebral affections, accidents involving the brain, 
 intemperance, insanities, and other derangements 
 give rise to a plentiful crop of visions, many of 
 which admit of being observed with tolerable ease, 
 and amply repay the physician for the necessary 
 time and trouble of observation. It is, in fact, 
 upon a series of such cases that the present paper 
 is founded, and from which it derives its prin- 
 cipal value. Cases of visions are not unusual. 
 They enter into the experience of most practi- 
 tioners. It is not difficult, therefore, for the 
 clinical observer to obtain facts, illustrating the 
 abnormal action of the visual apparatus ; the diffi- 
 culty lies in the correct interpretation of the facts 
 observed. 
 
 Anatomy describes the raw material and organ- 
 ization of the brain. Physiology describes the 
 cerebral functions and their modes of action. Clin- 
 ical observation tests the accuracy of anatomical 
 and physiological teaching, and supplements them 
 botli by pathological research. The brain must 
 be approached by all these avenues, and must be 
 
196 VISIONS. 
 
 studied in action during life, as well as by the 
 microscope and scalpel after death, in order to 
 comprehend its power. The most careful exam- 
 ination and exact knowledge of the structure and 
 jjarts of a steam engine would fail to reveal its 
 force or final cause. A study of it in action would 
 disclose its normal but not its abnormal capacities. 
 An acquaintance with the whole varied experi- 
 ence of an engine's life ; with its efforts and fi'ac- 
 tures ; its handling by different engineers, good 
 and bad, drunk and sober ; its exposures, illnesses 
 and recoveries, would reveal in it capacities, ec- 
 centricities, and idiosyncracies which, without such 
 observation, would never be brought to light. So 
 with the visual apparatus. The anatomist can 
 take it to pieces, and show its parts like those of 
 a telescope ; the physiologist can exhibit its power 
 and working and field of vision ; but from the 
 clinical observer must be obtained not only the 
 authentication of every physiological law concern- 
 ing it, but whatever knowledge it is possible to 
 obtain with regard to its abnormal action, and 
 the modifications impressed upon its functions by 
 the varied experience of the cerebral life of which 
 it forms a part. 
 
 Notwithstanding all the difficulties attending it, 
 and they are many and great, medical science owes 
 a large portion of its present knowledge of cere- 
 bral affections to clinical observation. Among 
 its contributions are to be found 6ome of especial 
 salue to the student of visions. 
 
VISIONS. 197 
 
 The first of these in importance is the confirma- 
 tion, perhaps it would be more just to say, the 
 demonstration of the fact, that visions may and 
 do occur ; that subjective seeing being more than 
 lancy, and more than a mere possibiUty, is an oc- 
 casional reality. Clinical observation asserts the 
 existence of the phenomena of pseudopia, as a 
 symptom of cerebral disease, with as much cer- 
 tainty as it does that of paralysis or pain, as symp- 
 tomatic of nervous derangement. The full signifi- 
 cance of the existence of such phenomena has not 
 been hitherto duly appreciated. Visions have 
 been and are commonly regarded, even by medi- 
 cal men, as figments of the imagination — airy 
 nothings — rather than as manifestations of ab- 
 normal brain action. From the age of Hippoc- 
 rates till now, clinicians have recognized the oc- 
 currence of various sorts of pseudopia, in connec- 
 tion with a variety of maladies, and, content with 
 regarding them as a part of delirium or kind of 
 hallucination, have neglected to inquire further. 
 This neglect only enhances the value of their tes- 
 timony to the fact, that the visual apparatus is 
 capable of being thrown into action by intra- 
 cranial causes. It was stated in the earlier part 
 of this essay that we do not see with our eyes, or 
 hear with our ears. Clinical observation, in con- 
 firmation of this physiological statement, asserts 
 that it has met at the bedside those whose brains, 
 under the influence of disease, saw, though their 
 eyes were blind ; and conversely, has met with 
 
198 VISIONS. 
 
 those, who, with eyes capable of vision, had brains 
 which were not. 
 
 This physiological fact, the demonstration of 
 which is largely due to clinical observation, is 
 emphasized in this connection, on account of its 
 great importance. By subjective sight is, of 
 course, meant the seeing of objects and scenes, by 
 the reproduction of cell groups, without the stim- 
 ulus of any external object. This fact, which has 
 long been known as one of the results of cerebral 
 disease, and which has stood prominently out be- 
 fore the eyes of clinical observers, has received 
 very little attention, in comparison with that be- 
 stowed on the visions of charlatan spiritualists, 
 prophets, enthusiasts, and others, who have ex- 
 cited the wonder and awe of the world. The 
 brain of a drunkard, who sees a black dog in an 
 image on his mantel, or a burglar in the form of 
 his wife, may be in a condition, so far as its visual 
 cell groups are concerned, not unlike that of some 
 rapt votary, who sees the countenance of his pa- 
 tron saint, beaming from his crucifix ; or from 
 that of an excited soldier, who, on the eve of a 
 battle is blessed by the appearance of his mother's 
 face in the midst of his prayers and tears. The 
 fact being accepted, which clinical observation 
 has chiefly substantiated, that morbid states of 
 the intracranial apparatus may lead to the estab- 
 lishment of visions, the foundation is laid for the 
 rational explanation of many phenomena, hitherto 
 regarded as inexplicable. It is singular that this 
 
VISIONS. 199 
 
 important fact, which disease has for a long period 
 clearly revealed, should have received so little at- 
 tention. Physicians are so familiar with visions 
 as symptoms in febrile and nervous derangements 
 that they have overlooked the physiological im- 
 portance of such symptoms in other and psycho- 
 logical relations. One of the most important con- 
 tributions, then, towards an accurate knowledge 
 of visions has come from a study of disease ; name- 
 ly, the demonstration of the fact of their subjec- 
 tive existence. 
 
 It should be noticed, in the second place, that 
 a knowledge of the conditions necessary to the 
 production of visions can be obtained only or 
 chiefly by a study of diseases in which they oc- 
 cur. This point was discussed when speaking of 
 blood supply, including nutrition, and other agen- 
 cies, which influence the grouping of nerve cells 
 and modify nerve tissue. It is therefore unneces- 
 sary to dwell upon it again now. Habit, associ- 
 ation, attention, and other modes of cerebral activ- 
 ity are intensified in their action by many dis- 
 eases, and produce visual effects, which without 
 the underlying morbid state, could not be brought 
 about. Hypersemia or anajmia of a visual centre 
 may set the visual telegraph in operation, and 
 notify a higher centre subjectively of the pres- 
 ence of a dog, or child, or angel, or devil, just 
 as the same condition, in a motor centre, may 
 set the motor apparatus at work, and produce 
 convulsions ; or in a centre of sensation, may 
 
200 VISIONS. 
 
 produce neuralgia. It is not intended by this 
 statement to affirm that all visions rest upon dis- 
 ease as their basis ; but it is intended to affirm 
 that visions do not occur, unless some abnormal 
 state of the visual nerve mechanism is produced, 
 through which they are manifested, and which 
 condition their manifestation. Disease contrib- 
 utes the conditions necessary to the production of 
 subjective visions, and so leads the way to an in- 
 vestigation of their pathology. It does not mili- 
 tate against this view of the etiology of pseudopia, 
 that cerebral morbid states, producing visions, may 
 be artificially induced. Changes in the quantity 
 and quality of the blood, circulating through the 
 visual nerve centres, are doubtless the most fre- 
 quent causes of inducing those cell-groups and cell 
 modifications which are the hieroglyphics of vis- 
 ions. Such changes undoubtedly occur in fevers, 
 starvation, delirium tremens, and other affections, 
 among the symptoms of which are subjective sights 
 and sounds. 
 
 The third point to be mentioned has, like the 
 previous one, been already touched upon. It is 
 this : Physiology obtains from the clinical obser- 
 vation of disease the final and complete demon- 
 stration, that the visual function is localized in 
 a special intracranial apparatus. Experiments, 
 like those of Hitzig and Ferrier, may render the 
 localization more than probable ; but such ex- 
 periments were performed on animals, and the 
 results cannot be transferred absolutely from ani- 
 
VISIONS. 201 
 
 mals to man. Neither is it justifiable, if it were 
 desirable, to experiment on men as on animals, in 
 order to decide the question. Disease, however, 
 performs what experiment would not dare to 
 undertake. By its mysterious processes it attacks 
 different parts of the brain, producing all sorts 
 of cerebral lesions and cerebral blood changes. 
 Sometimes these lesions or changes are limited 
 to one or more visual centres, thus enabling the 
 clinical observer to test the accuracy of the phys- 
 iologist's statements with regard to the function 
 of those parts. 
 
 It thus appears that disease reveals the fact of 
 the existence of subjective vision ; secondly, that 
 it occasionally facilitates the appearance of vis- 
 ions, and by many of its processes affords an op- 
 portunity for a study of the character and condi- 
 tions of cerebral seeing; and, thirdly, that it 
 confirms the recent assertion of physiology, as to 
 the localization of the visual function in a special 
 part of the brain, and in a peculiar apparatus. 
 
 The last influence or factor, which it is neces- 
 sary to mention in this connection, as capable of 
 facilitating the appearance of visions, and in rare 
 instances of initiating them, is Volition. 
 
 If there were a locomotive running over our 
 railroads, stopping at one station to take passen- 
 gers in, and at another to let them out, slowing 
 its speed around a curve and over a bridge, and 
 hurrying its pace on a straight and level road, 
 cautiously feeling its way through a tunnel or into 
 
202 VIRIONS. 
 
 a city, putting forth all its power to surmount an 
 ascending grade, and with equal effort holding 
 back on a descending one, advertising with a shrill 
 cry the careless and halt and blind to avoid its 
 path, starting at a fixed moment and reaching its 
 various goals with exactness, and doing this and 
 all its labor intelligently, with the engineer invisi- 
 ble ; if such a locomotive could be found, there 
 would at once spring up around it two classes of 
 philosophers ; of whom, one class would attribute 
 to the engine itself, including its mechanism, and 
 aided perhaps by the reaction of its surroundings 
 on its wheels and springs, the power of self guid- 
 ance ; while the other class maintaining an oppo- 
 site view, would assert the existence and constant 
 presence of an invisible engineer. The human 
 brain, an engine more delicate, wonderful, and 
 powerful than any of which man has conceived, 
 started on life's devious way some thousands of 
 years ago, has been running over it since and is 
 running still. Its engineer is invisible, and be-^ 
 cause invisible, many have doubted if there is one. 
 This essay is based on the hypothesis, the author 
 believes on the fact, that a cerebral engineer ex- 
 ists, who, within certain definite physiological 
 limits, guides and controls his engine ; an engi- 
 neer who is a self acting cause. Whatever name 
 may be given to him. Soul, Ego, the Me, or other 
 title, he is known only by his volitions, impressed 
 on his engine. Hence the importance, in this dis- 
 cussion, of ascertaining as definitely as possible 
 
VISIONS. 203 
 
 tae relation of volition to the visual function. 
 However much the engine may act automatically, 
 or be trained to act so, the cerebral engineer, by 
 teaching some secret nerve centre or cell, as 
 the engineer of a locomotive touches a protected 
 spring, modifies, more or less, the movements of 
 the mechanism intrusted to his care. It is not 
 probable that there is a nerve centre, cell, or fibre, 
 removed from his supervision or beyond his reach. 
 Even the centres of special sense, those of sight, 
 hearing, taste, and smell, which are charged with 
 the duty of reporting the outer world to him, are 
 influenced by his commands, and sometimes con- 
 trolled by his volition. 
 
 It is not intended, by these statements, to assert 
 that physiology has discovered the point of con- 
 tact between Mind and Brain, or that the exist- 
 ence of an Ego — an engineer — has been demon- 
 strated, in the sense that three angles of a simple 
 triangle have been demonstrated to be equal to 
 two right angles ; but it is intended to assert that 
 these statements, if a cerebral engineer exists, are 
 logically true. 
 
 This brings us to the question, how far does 
 volition influence vision ; — how far does the will 
 control sight. It is admitted by all physiologists 
 that the will controls, or at least modifies all the 
 functions. Even the processes of disease are af- 
 fected, and sometimes initiated by the will. The 
 proverb that "the mind can kill and the mind can 
 cure " not only illustrates a popular belief, but a 
 
204 VISIONS. 
 
 physiological truth. When the will directs the 
 power of attention to any object, it has already 
 been shown that all the senses are sharpened in 
 their attempt to carry out the directions of the 
 will. Objects are seen and impressions recog- 
 nized, which would not otherwise be noticed. In 
 like manner, whatever is performed under the 
 cognizance of the will, and especially whatever is 
 performed in obedience to an express act of voli- 
 tion, is done with enhanced energy. 
 
 If physiology has not succeeded in exposing the 
 process by which the will communicates with the 
 body and secures obedience, it has succeeded in 
 establishing the fact, that the results of the will 
 are attained by indirect, and not by direct action. 
 The will does not move the hand or the eye by 
 directly communicating a force or stimulus to 
 them, but by playing upon the ganglia, which 
 automatically call into action the necessary nervo- 
 muscular combinations. " No better illustration 
 of this doctrine could be adduced, than that which 
 is furnished by the act of Vocalization ; either in 
 articulate Speech, or in the production of musical 
 tones. In each of these acts, the coordination of 
 a large number of muscular movements is re- 
 quired ; and so complex are their combinations, 
 that the professed anatomist would be unable, 
 without careful study, to determine what is the 
 precise state of each of the muscles concerned in 
 the production of a given musical note, or the 
 enunciation of a particular syllable. Yet we 
 
VISIONS. 205 
 
 simply conceive the tone or the syllable we wish 
 to utter, and say to our automatic self ' Do this : ' 
 and the well-trained automaton does it. The 
 delicate gradations in the action of each individual 
 muscle, and the harmonious combination of the 
 whole, are effected under the guidance of the Ear, 
 without (save in exceptional cases) the smallest 
 knowledge on our own part of the nature of the 
 mechanism we are putting in action. In fact, the 
 most perfect acquaintance with that mechanism 
 would scarcely afford the least assistance in the 
 acquirement of the power to use it. The ' train- 
 ing ' which develops the inarticulate Cry of the 
 infant into articulate Speech or melodious Song, 
 mainly consists in the fixation of the Attention on 
 the audible result, the selection of that one of the 
 imitative efforts to produce it which is most nearly 
 successful, and the repetition of this until it has 
 become habitual or secondarily automatic. The 
 Will can thenceforwards reproduce any sound once 
 acquired, by calling upon the Automatic appara- 
 tus for the particular combination of movements 
 which it has grown into the power of executing 
 in respondence to each preconception ; provided, 
 at least, that the apparatus has not been allowed 
 to become rusty by disuse, or been stiffened by 
 training into a different mode of action." ^ 
 
 This illustration of Dr. Carpenter is an ad- 
 mirable description of the ijiethod by which the 
 will influences, and perhaps operates the human 
 1 Mental Physiology, by W. B. Carpenter, pp. 20, 21. 
 
206 VISIONS. 
 
 mechanism. Disease furnislies many illustrations 
 of the same soi-t. The follamng incident, which 
 came under the observation of the late Dr. John 
 Ware of Boston, and was related by him to the 
 author, as happily illustrates the power of the will 
 over morbid processes, as that of Dr. Carpenter 
 does its powe>- over healthy ones. Miss X., a 
 bright intelligent girl, eighteen or twenty years 
 old, had an attack of bronchitis which involved 
 not only the bronchi, but her larynx and vocal ap- 
 paratus. The attack was not severe or dangerous, 
 but prolonged, and refused to yield readily to 
 treatment. After a time she lost her voice. At 
 length the bronchitis improved, but the aphonia 
 obstinately persisted, without any indication of 
 relief. While Miss X. was suffering in this way, 
 a notorious charlatan appeared in Boston, who 
 cured diseases in the old ecclesiastical way, by 
 laying of hands on the affected region. Multitudes 
 followed him. His fame was great, and spread 
 through all the region in the neighborhood of Bos- 
 ton. Numerous stories were told of his healing 
 gifts, and of the wonderful cures he wrought. As 
 generally happens in such cases, not only the com- 
 mon people and uneducated sought relief from him, 
 but many intelligent persons were attracted to him. 
 Some visited him, doubtless, from curiosity alone, 
 but others were led by hope and faith as well. 
 It was said that his hall was full of the crutches 
 and canes of the rheumatic and infirm, who went 
 thither stiff and lame, but who, cured by a touch 
 
VISIONS. 207 
 
 and a word, left their artificial supports behind, as 
 trophies of the healer's power, and walked away 
 rejoicing and sound. The fame of the therapist 
 reached the ears of Miss X. and her family, and 
 excited in them the hope that he might restore her 
 voice. After due deliberation, the consent of Dr. 
 Ware was asked. This was readily given, and 
 Miss X. repaired to the bureau of the dealer in 
 cures. He heard her story, passed his hands 
 somewhat roughly over her throat, told her to 
 speak, and she spoke. Not long after she re- 
 ported herself to Dr. Ware, who expressed much 
 pleasure at the recovery of her voice, but did not 
 seem to be surprised at the result. Miss X. was 
 disappointed, perhaps a little nettled, by the 
 Doctor's indifference. The aphonia, which was 
 hysterical, did not return at once. Some time 
 later, she called again upon Dr. Ware, and said to 
 him : " Doctor, I wish to know the secret of the re- 
 covery of my voice. At our last interview, you 
 did not look or speak as if you thought the lay- 
 ing on of hands had much to do with it." " I did 
 not think so," was the Doctor's reply. He then en- 
 deavored to explain to her the physiological proc- 
 ess, by which her will, stimulated by novelty 
 and hope and faith, had acted almost with electric 
 energy upon the affected nerves, and secured the 
 fortunate result. A year passed by and then 
 Miss X. had a return of bronchitis and aphonia. 
 She again put herself under the care of Dr. Ware, 
 who, again finding the treatment he employed 
 
208 VISIONS. 
 
 ineffectual, himself proposed that recourse should 
 be had to the charlatan. This was done. Miss X. 
 repaired to the therapeutic bureau. The old proc- 
 ess was repeated, and the old order given, but in 
 vain. Her voice refused to return. The apho- 
 nia would not be exorcised. Once more she 
 sought Dr. Ware, who, suspecting the real cause 
 of failure, told her that in consequence of his pre- 
 vious physiological explanation, she had less faith 
 than before, and had not on this occasion made 
 sufficient effort. " Now," continued the Doctor, 
 " if you choose, as you sit in that chair, to put all 
 your will into the effort, and try with intense de- 
 termination to speak, you will speak. Try it." " I 
 will try," said Miss X. Determined, if will could do 
 it, that there should be will enough, and redden- 
 ing her cheeks in the struggle, she did her utmost 
 to speak, and her voice returned and remained with 
 her. In this instance, the will, playing upon the 
 nervo-muscular centres of the complex vocal ap- 
 paratus, acted as a powerful stimulant, and initiated 
 the process of recovery. 
 
 Many other instances might be adduced of the 
 power of the will to influence the causation and 
 progress of disease, but those just given are suffi- 
 cient to show its power, not only over the nerve 
 centres in general, but also over those which are 
 apparently quite out of its reach. There is prob- 
 ably no part of the body, which cannot be af- 
 fected somewhat by volition. Even the lungs ac- 
 knowledge its sway to a limited degree. Every 
 
VISIONS. 209 
 
 one knows that he can accelerate or slow his res- 
 piration by a voluntary effort, though he cannot 
 compel his lungs to cease from breathing perma- 
 nently. The heart, which is rendered turbulent 
 by emotion, sometimes and in some persons is 
 obedient to the will. The familiar and celebrated 
 case of Colonel Townshend is an illustration of 
 the last statement. It is hardly necessary to 
 quote the details of a case which is so well known. 
 The Colonel, it will be remembered, told his phy- 
 sician, Dr. Cheyne, that he could stop the beat- 
 ing of his heart for a time and cause it to beat 
 again whenever he chose to do so. Dr. Cheyne 
 seeming astonished, perhaps incredulous, at such 
 a statement, the Colonel proceeded to demon- 
 strate its truth. He was sick and in bed, and the 
 Doctor at his bedside. Presently the experiment 
 began ; the Colonel's breathing became slow, and 
 the beating of his heart slow also. Both respi- 
 ration and cardiac pulsation grew slower and 
 slower, till they ceased altogether. No pulsation 
 could be felt over the heart or radial pulse. A 
 dry watch glass, held over the Colonel's mouth, 
 gave no evidence of moisture. The Doctor 
 thought that his patient was really dead. After 
 remaining nearly half an hour in this condition, 
 the Colonel's heart began to beat, his lungs to 
 act, and he was alive again. Dr. Cheyne, who 
 reported this extraordinary phenomenon, was in 
 his day a physician of repute and knowledge, and 
 one not likely to be deceived. Mr. Skrine, an 
 14 
 
210 VISIONS. 
 
 apothecary, who was present, witnessed the occur- 
 rence and confirmed the accuracy of Dr. Cheyne's 
 observation. 1 By the light which physiology has 
 recently thrown upon the functions and power of 
 the nervous system, it appears to be by no means 
 impossible that now and then an individual might 
 be found, whose heart could be controlled by the 
 will, even to the extent of stopping its apparent 
 pulsation. 
 
 These illustrations, and they might be multi- 
 plied indefinitely, are enough to show that the 
 force of volition extends, with varying degrees 
 of power, throughout the whole organization. 
 The will, or Ego, who is only known by his voli- 
 tions, is a constitutional monarch, whose authority 
 within certain limits is acknowledged throughout 
 the sytem. If he chooses, like most monarchs, to 
 extend his dominions and enlarge his power, he 
 can do so. By a judicious exercise of his author- 
 ity, employing direct rather than indirect meas- 
 ures, he can make every organ his cheerful sub- 
 ject. If on the other hand, he is careless of his 
 position, sluggish and weary of constant vigilance 
 and labor, he will find his authority slipping from 
 him, and himself the slave of his ganglia. It 
 would be singular, if in a system so admirably 
 arranged and harmoniously adjusted as this, the 
 visual ganglia should be the only ones withdrawn 
 from the influence and authority of the will. Or 
 
 1 It should be remembered that, in England, an apothecary ia 
 not a druggist, but a general practitioner. 
 
VISIONS. 211 
 
 to change the figure, it -would be singular, if in a 
 mechanism of such harmony and perfection as the 
 nervous system, the only part, withdrawn from the 
 supervision of its engineer, should be a part so im- 
 portant as the visual apparatus. Such cannot be 
 the case. On the contrary, the influence of the 
 will guarded by appropriate limitations must ex- 
 tend beyond the eye to the tubercula quadrigem- 
 ina, the angular gyri, and the ideational visual 
 centres of the frontal lobes. That the Ego, who is 
 known to us only as will or volition, can influence 
 the process of vision is an inference from the pre- 
 ceding considerations which amounts to demon- 
 stration. This inference is not weakened, because 
 the will sometimes or generally employs indirect, 
 rather than direct measures for the accomplish- 
 ment of its ends. If in order to produce an idea- 
 tional picture in the frontal lobes, the will excites 
 emotion, calls in the aid of association, and fixes 
 attention and by these means compels the brain 
 cells into forms which represent a picture, it is as 
 much a factor in the visual operation, as if it did 
 all the work itself. Under these circumstances it 
 is the primum mobile — an initial force — a cause. 
 Evidence is not altogether wanting, not of an 
 inferential character, that the will acts on the in- 
 tracranial visual apparatus. From the nature of 
 the case, the evidence cannot be of the experi- 
 mental character, upon which the physiologist 
 relies, nor of the pathological character, upon 
 which the pathologist relies ; yet it possesses a 
 
212 VISIONS. 
 
 value, second only to that of physiological experi- 
 ment and pathological investigation. The weight 
 which should be attached to it depends in every 
 instance upon the individual who gives it — upon 
 its qualit}', and not upon its quantity. It is the 
 assertion of individuals that they can produce 
 subjective vision by their own volition and have 
 done so. Such evidence can of course, be received 
 only after the most careful scrutiny. 
 
 Two classes of persons make this assertion ; 
 children and adults. The evidence derived from 
 the first class is the most valuable, so far as it 
 goes, for children are unprejudiced in this matter, 
 and have no theories to uphold. They tell their 
 story unaware of its value or bearing. The evi- 
 dence derived from the second class must be re- 
 ceived with great caution. Adults have theories 
 and love to be the subject of marvels. 
 
 Many children, especially very young children, 
 possess the power, when they have closed their 
 eyes in the dark, of surrounding themselves, by a 
 simple act of volition, with a panorama of odd 
 sights. The objects and persons evoked are not 
 of a definite character, and are commonly queer 
 and strange. They come in a throng, tumultu- 
 ously, and disappear on opening the eyes. Most 
 children who possess this power like to exercise 
 it, and see the show, which they can call up in the 
 darkness. Others are unwilling to exercise it, 
 and are often afraid of going to bed in a dark 
 room, on account of the crowd of ugly beings 
 
VISIONS. 213 
 
 which come floating in the air around them as 
 they try to go to sleep. De Quincey, who was 
 aware of this pecuharity in children, speaks of it 
 in connection with the effects of opium upon him- 
 self : " The fii-st notice," he says, " I had of any 
 important change going on in this part of my 
 physical economy, was from the reawaking of a 
 state of eye generally incident to childhood or 
 exalted states of irritability. I know not whether 
 my reader is aware that many children, perhaps 
 most, have a power of painting as it were upon 
 the darkness, all sorts of phantoms : in some that 
 power is simply a mechanic affection of the e^^e ; 
 others have a voluntary or semi-voluntary power 
 to dismiss or summon them ; or, as a child once 
 said to me, when I questioned him on this matter, 
 ' I can tell them to go, and they go ; but some- 
 times they come when I don't tell them to come.' 
 Whereupon I told him that he had almost as un- 
 limited a command over apparitions as a Roman 
 centurion over his soldiers." ^ An acquaintance 
 of the author, who is now between fifty and sixty 
 years of age, says that in his childhood, after clos- 
 ing his eyes at night he could and often did, by 
 an act of volition, call troops of queer forms around 
 him. As years passed on and manhood approached, 
 he lost the power of subjective vision, and though 
 he has frequently tried since childhood, to peojDle 
 the darkness in the old way, he has never been 
 able to do so. The subject of the fourth case of 
 
 1 Confessions, etc., p. 109. 
 
214 VISIONS. 
 
 the preceding series, a most intelligent observer, 
 saj^s in her account : " My earliest recollections 
 are of a life made miserable by the daily compan- 
 ionship of a crowd of dreadful beings, visible, I 
 knew, only to myself." In her case the cerebral 
 condition, which induces visions, was so pro- 
 nounced that her childhood's atmosphere was in- 
 habited with phantoms, whether her eyelids were 
 lifted or closed. I retain myself at the present 
 time, a vivid recollection of the sights which I 
 was able to conjure up in childhood, in the dark- 
 ness of evening or night, by shutting my eyes. I 
 did not learn till after pseudopia had been pro- 
 duced by opium, in the manner previously de- 
 scribed, that I possessed the power of voluntarily 
 summoning such companions about me. It was 
 only on rare occasions that I could do so by an 
 act of volition. Generally, after closing my eyes, 
 I was obliged to wait for the phantoms to come of 
 themselves. Since childhood I have frequently 
 endeavored to produce the same result, in the 
 same way, but in vain. A lady now over seventy 
 years of age, informs the writer that she was 
 greatly troubled at night, during her childhood, 
 with involuntary pseudopia. For a long time she 
 believed the phantoms were realities, and sought 
 to escape from them by pressing her hands firmly 
 over both eyes, as the ostrich is said to avoid his 
 enemies by hiding his head in the sand. As years 
 passed on her j^hantom power disappeared, and 
 now it exists only in her memory. 
 
VISIONS. 215 
 
 It will be noticed that this form of pseudopia, 
 which may be appropriately called the pseudopia of 
 childhood, is of two kinds, voluntary and involun- 
 tary, and that the latter predominates very largely 
 over the former. The involuntary sort is doubt- 
 less what De Quincey calls " mechanic " in its 
 character, that is, produced, as muscae volitantes 
 are, by changes in the contents of the globe of the 
 eye, or by automatic cerebro-visual action. The 
 voluntary sort is, of course, independent of any 
 mechanical disturbance of the eyeball, and results 
 chiefly from changes in the cerebral circulation. 
 Both show how easily the delicate nerve centres of 
 children may be disturbed ; and, what is of more 
 importance to our present purpose, both show that 
 the brain can be made, without great difficulty, to 
 put together the organic cell-representatives of 
 pictorial ideas: for, although the objects seen are 
 always of an odd, strange, indefinite, and perhaps 
 frightful character, it is not to be denied that they 
 are pictorial and that the brain produces them. 
 It is also shewn by the evidence adduced that 
 while the most of them are produced by a process 
 of automatic cerebral action, others are the result 
 of a process, into the initiation of which volition 
 enters as a factor. 
 
 It is a matter of surprise that this phantom 
 power of childhood has not excited more interest 
 than it has done, among psychologists and physi- 
 ologists. Its appearance in childhood, when the 
 nerve centres are delicate, imperfectly developed, 
 
216 ^ VISIONS. 
 
 mobile, and impressible ; its disappearance in ma- 
 ture years, when the nerve tissues are developed, 
 harder, less mobile, and less impressible ; and its 
 reappearance at the very close of life, when, as 
 dissolution approaches, the nerve centres are ex- 
 ceptionally disturbed, often producing visions of 
 the dying ; these phenomena are all curious, sig- 
 nificant, and worthy of study. 
 
 Evidence derived from the second class of per- 
 sons, or adults, as to the power of the will to pro- 
 duce objective pseudopia, is not easily obtained. 
 Few possess any such power, though there may be 
 multitudes who pretend to it ; and those who pos- 
 sess it are neither fond of exercising it, nor of 
 being questioned with regard to it. The subject 
 of Case VII., a man whose large scientific attain- 
 ments and careful intellectual training entitle his 
 testimony to great weight, says, in his report of his 
 own visions, that he was tempted to ascertain if 
 he could not produce them by an act of volition, 
 and adds : — 
 
 " I was particularly fond of statuary, and, after a few 
 trials, succeeded in producing visions of statues by 
 simply fixing my imagination strongly upon the mem- 
 ory of what I had seen, or upon what occurred to me, 
 as a good subject for groups. I repeated the experi- 
 ment, however, but few times, fearing it might lead to 
 some injurious result." 
 
 Goethe could at will produce, for his own study 
 and examination, subjective copies of pictures and 
 works of art which he had seen. He describes his 
 faculty of doing this in the following language : — 
 
VISIONS. 217 
 
 " As I eutered my sister's house for dinner, I could 
 scarcely trust my eyes, for I believed I saw before me 
 a picture by Ostade so distinctly that it might have 
 been hanging in a gallery. I saw here actualized the 
 position of objects, the light and shade and brownish 
 tints and exquisite harmony, and all which is so much 
 admired in his pictures. This was the first time that I 
 discovered, in so high a degree, the gift, which I after- 
 wards vised with more complete consciousness, of bring- 
 ing before me the characteristics of this or that artist, 
 to whose works I had devoted great attention. This 
 faculty has given me great enjoyment, but it has also in- 
 creased the desire of zealously indulging, from time to 
 time, the exercise of a talent, which nature seems to 
 have promised me." ^ 
 
 Nicolai of Berlin strenuously endeavored to in- 
 duce pseudopia by an act of volition, bu6 never 
 succeeded in doing more than to bring before him- 
 self what he called phantoms ; that is, he produced 
 ideational cerebral pictures, but could not, as 
 Goethe did, project them into space before him. 
 Nevertheless, the testimony of so accurate an ob- 
 server as Nicolai to the fact that he could, by 
 voluntary effort, excite or modify to any extent, 
 hov^ever little, his visual cerebral apparatus, is im- 
 portant. 
 
 The evidence presented, that volition is a factor 
 in the production of pseudopia, and may initiate 
 pseudopia, is cumulative, and not easily set aside. 
 It is threefold. First : the inference, that as voli- 
 
 ^ Aus vieinem Leben Wahrheit und Dichiung, Achtes Buch, 
 Goethe's sammtliche Werke, Stuttgart, 1 863. 
 
218 VISIONS. 
 
 tion influences, directly or indirectly, by means of 
 communicciting nerves, every part of the organ- 
 ization where its action can be traced, it must 
 also be connected with the intracranial mechan- 
 ism of vision, and have some influence over that, 
 though its action cannot be traced there directly. 
 Second : the pseudopia of children demonstrates 
 in them an influence over it of volition ; and 
 third : the assertion of two careful and unpreju- 
 diced persons that they could produce, and had 
 produced,' pseudopia in themselves by an act of 
 volition. These facts warrant the conclusion that 
 the will can influence the production of visions. 
 
 Before making any practical application of the 
 physiological and other principles, which have 
 hitherto occupied our attention, it would be well 
 to present a brief summary of the course of 
 thought which has been followed. The argument 
 is this. 
 
 1. Such a number and variety of persons, every- 
 where and in all ages, have asserted their belief 
 in visions, and have maintained, with every rea- 
 sonable appearance and proof of sincerity, their 
 ability to see visions, and the fact of having done 
 so, that a presumption is raised in favor of the 
 truth of their assertion ; and, consequently, science 
 is obliged either to disprove the appearance of 
 visions altogether, or to give a rational explana- 
 tion of such phenomena. 
 
 2. Eight cases of pseudopia, occurring in per- 
 sons of education and intelligence, carefully ob- 
 
VISIONS. 219 
 
 served and recognized by the subjects of them 
 as pseudopia, and recorded in this essay, con- 
 firm the presumption raised by the experience of 
 manlvind, and demonstrate the fact that visions 
 occur. 
 
 3. The key to the explanation of pseudopia, or 
 visions, is to be found by studying and compre- 
 hending orthopia, or the process of normal vision. 
 Sight is not a function of the eye alone, but of a 
 complex and delicate apparatus of which the 
 greater part is lodged within the cranium. 
 
 4. This apparatus is composed of sections, each 
 having its own centre, and being connected with 
 the other centres by inter-communicating fibres, 
 and in correspondence with the higher cerebral 
 centres of perception, ideation, and volition. 
 
 5. Perception of visible objects, or consciousness 
 of seeing, does not take place in the eye. This 
 begins in the lowest of the intracranial visual cen- 
 tres ; and in each ascending centre becomes of a 
 higher character. Perception varies with the per- 
 ceiving centre, and is highest in the frontal lobes, 
 where it becomes apperception or thought. 
 
 6. Some account of the reflex or automatic 
 action of the nervous system is given, so as to 
 show how each ganglionic nerve centre is capable 
 of independent action, and has its own conscious- 
 ness without self consciousness. 
 
 7. The visual apparatus is normally operated 
 by the stimulus of rays of light, falling on the 
 retina from a visible object, and propagating an 
 
220 VISIONS. 
 
 action to each centre above, till the frontal lobes 
 are reached. 
 
 8. In abnormal conditions, stimuli originating 
 in the brain, without the presence of any external 
 object, may excite any of the centres of the visual 
 apparatus, and set the process of vision going 
 from that point. 
 
 9. Every object, making an impression on the 
 brain or visual apparatus, leaves an organic trace 
 there, vrhich may be reproduced at an indefinite 
 period afterwards by cerebral action. 
 
 10. Pictures of external objects are not trans- 
 mitted from the eye to the brain, but only visual 
 reports of such objects. These reports are trans- 
 mitted from centre to centre (telegrams), each 
 centre employing for that purpose its own cell- 
 groups and other contents. 
 
 11. Visual sensory impressions are carried up 
 to the frontal lobes, and there translated into 
 ideas. In rare instances, ideas may send down an 
 influence, and be translated into sensory impres- 
 sions in a lower centre. 
 
 12. Hence seeing is a matter of the brain, and 
 not of the eye ; the eye only transmits impres- 
 sions. 
 
 13. The brain cells, acting under subjective 
 stimuli, may arrange themselves in such a way as 
 to represent a vision, that is sight, when no ex 
 ternal object, corresponding to it, exists. 
 
 14. Various influences, as habit, association, at- 
 tention, emotion, disease, blood changes, and voli- 
 
VISIONS. 221 
 
 tion may put the visual apparatus in motion and 
 produce visions. 
 
 The annexed diagram, in which the visual 
 nerve centres are arranged without any regard to 
 their actual anatomical position, and in which 
 other centres are hypothetically arranged, will 
 enable the reader to understand, better than any 
 description can do, the mechanism of vision, as it 
 has here been explained. 
 
 Rays of light from a visible object, falling on 
 the retina of the eye (No. 1), set in motion the 
 machinery of that centre. The result is a visual 
 message which is transmitted to the tubercula 
 quadrigemina and optic thalami, or centre No. 2. 
 In this centre, the message is coordinated with 
 the voluntary muscular system, classified and 
 transmitted to the angular gyrus, or centre No. 3. 
 In this centre, the visual message is translated 
 into sensory pictorial cell-groups, representing the 
 details of individuals, houses, trees, flowers, ani- 
 mals, faces, expressions, and all the panorama of 
 life. Thus elaborated, the message is transmitted 
 to the ideational centre No. 4. 
 
 In No. 4 the sensory messages or pictorial rep- 
 resentations are transformed into ideas, as sen- 
 sation in a spinal ganglion is transformed into 
 motion. The visual ideas are transmitted to No. 
 5, the workshop of intellection or apperception. 
 
 In No. 5, the visual ideas are examined, com- 
 pared and judged ; and the results communicated 
 to the centre of volition, the residence of the Ego. 
 
Fig. 4. 
 
 
 
 9 \jS^mo£ion, 
 
 
 'Vaso'JItifov 
 
VISIONS. 223 
 
 The hypothetical centres of attention, habit, 
 association, emotion, and sensation, numbered on 
 the diagram 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10, are in constant 
 and close communication with each other, with 
 the centres of the visual apparatus, and with all 
 the cerebral centres. Avenues of reciprocal com- 
 munication are thus opened between all parts of 
 the brain, by means of internuncial nerve fibres. 
 
 The vaso-motor-centre. No. 11, by its control 
 of the calibre of the arterioles, regulates the sup- 
 ply of blood, so that more or less blood is fur- 
 nished on demand to any one of the centres, or to 
 all of them, or to the whole bi'ain. 
 
 No special centre is assigned to memory, for 
 each organ, or centre, or faculty, to use a meta- 
 physical term, has its own memory. Each cell 
 makes and keeps its own record. 
 
 The centre of volition. No. 12, is in connection 
 with every organ, centre and cell, of the cerebro- 
 spinal system. All report to it. It acts with 
 greater or less energy on all. 
 
 Explanation op Diagram. — 1, The Eye. 2, Tubercula Quadrigemina. 
 3, Angular Gyrus. 4, Ideational Visual Centre. 5, Centre of Intellection or 
 Apperception. 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, are the Hypothetical centres of attention, habit, 
 association, emotion, and common sensation (sensorium commune). 11, Vaso- 
 motor centre of cerebral blood supply. 12, Centre of Volition. The dotted 
 line indicates the connection of all the centres with volition. The arrows in- 
 dicate the course of visual rays, aa', bb', cc', dd', ee', nerve fibres connect- 
 ing the centres with each other. 
 
224 VISIONS. 
 
 PAET II. 
 
 The considerations presented in the first part 
 of this essay have prepared the way for a rational 
 and satisfactory explanation of all forms of pseud- 
 opia, and to some extent have anticipated that 
 explanation. They have also prepared the way 
 for an application of the principles here ex- 
 pounded, to medicine, legal medicine, and psychol- 
 ogy, and to some of the demands upon the faith 
 of mankind, made by religion and spiritualism and 
 individual enthusiasts — visionists. 
 
 /The key to an explanation of pseudopia is the 
 faftt, which has been repeatedly stated and em- 
 phasized in these pages, that sight is not a func- 
 tion of the eyes but of the brain. Human sight 
 is not accomplished till sensory impressions are 
 transformed into ideas, and this is done in the 
 hemispheres. When this is done — when the or- 
 ganic basis of visual ideas is formed there, seeing 
 takes place, whether there is any corresponding 
 external object or not. A vision is produced 
 whenever the cell groups, indicating that vision — 
 its hieroglyphic or cipher — are formed in the 
 brain, whether they are formed normally, by the 
 stimulus of light waves from an external object, 
 or abnormally, by a stimulus initiated intracra- 
 nially. 
 
VISIONS. 225 
 
 There appear to be four ways by which visions 
 may be induced, of which three are pointed out 
 by the philosophic observer, who, himself the sub- 
 ject of one of the preceding cases, derived his con- 
 clusions from his own experience. The four ways 
 are these. First, the normal and ordinary way, 
 by which waves of light from a visible object 
 falling on the retina of the eye (Fig. 4, No. 1) 
 set the whole visual apparatus in motion, in the 
 manner already described, producing sensory vis- 
 ion in the angular gyri, and ideated vision higher 
 wp. The movements of the visual apparatus, 
 vibrating along the nerve fibres, as roughly indi- 
 cated by arrows in the same figure, act simulta- 
 neously on the centres of attention, association, 
 habit, emotion, volition, and the like. Second, 
 an abnormal and simple automatic way by which 
 a stimulus from without (objective), as a. shadow, 
 or a stimulus from within (subjective), as opium, 
 striking when objective, the retina of the eye, 
 when subjective, one or more of the intracranial 
 centres (Fig. 4, Nos. 2, 3, or 4), initiates a custom- 
 ary sort of motion in the visual apparatus, which 
 determines the apparatus to produce of itself, 
 automatically, the cell-groups and modifications, 
 that is to go through an habitual action, repre- 
 senting some external object. By this process a 
 vision is produced. The process is like the au- 
 tomatic walking of a somnambulist, when a sound, 
 or movement, or dream, has started him upon his 
 unconscious peregrinations. Third, an abnor- 
 
 15 
 
226 VISIONS. 
 
 mal and complex automatic way, by which at- 
 tention, association, habit, emotion, volition, and 
 cognate forces (Fig. 4, Nos. 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, and 
 12), stimulated subjectively or objectively, play 
 upon the visual apparatvis, till they compel one or 
 more of its centres into activity. When this is 
 accomplished, the automatic action of the visual 
 apparatus reinforces the automatic action of the 
 forces just mentioned, and under their combined 
 influence, cell-groups and modifications are finally 
 formed, which, being the organic basis of a pre- 
 viously known object, person, or scene, vision is 
 produced. As soon as the subjective vision is 
 produced the object or person represented is pro- 
 jected into space, and seen as if present there. 
 In this way, intense emotion brings out under 
 favorable conditions and before impressible per- 
 sons, the faces and forms of the dead. Fourth, an 
 abnormal and volitional way, by which volition 
 (Fig. 4, No. 12), stimulated to the highest de- 
 gree, and summoning to its aid fixed attention, 
 association, habit, emotion, and all other forces at 
 its command, plays with its utmost energy upon 
 the angular gyrus (Fig. 4, No. 3), or some other 
 centre, and drives its machinery into operation. 
 If this can be accomplished, vision is accomplished. 
 The gift which Goethe said nature bestowed upon 
 him, by which he was able to reproduce, volun- 
 tarily, familiar pictures and project them into 
 space before his eyes, is an illustration of this 
 rare form of pseudopia. These four sorts of vis- 
 
VISIONS. 227 
 
 ions may be appropriately designated as follows : 
 (1.) orthopia; (2.) simple automatic pseudopia ; 
 (3.) complex automatic pseudopia; (4.) volitional 
 pseudopia. 
 
 The first of the preceding series of cases, the 
 one in which pseudopia occurred in connection 
 with delirium tremens, belongs to the class of 
 complex, automatic pseudopia. The subject of 
 it saw, it will be remembered, during convales- 
 cence, in the daytime, and in the presence of the 
 writer, a black dog, which, standing on a bureau, 
 leaped upon the floor and disappeared. At an- 
 other time, he mistook his wife for a burglarj 
 On both occasions, he recognized the subjective 
 character of his visions. So natural were the ap- 
 pearances, however, that if his previous experi- 
 ence had not convinced him of the untrustwor- 
 thiness of his eyes, he would have entertained no 
 doubt as to the presence of a dog at one time, and 
 a burglar at another. 
 
 The physiological explanation of his visions is 
 not difficult. He had taken alcoholic drinks suf- 
 ficiently long, and in sufficient quantity to pro- 
 duce delirium tremens. This affection does not 
 come on after one potation, however large, or 
 after several potations. It appears only after 
 alcohol has been taken continuously for a consid- 
 erable period, and when, as a result of thus soak- 
 ing the brain in spirits, an organic change has 
 taken place in the cerebral tissues. All the nerve 
 cells are affected. The derangement of the mo- 
 
228 VISIONS. 
 
 tor centres is shown by tremors, muscular weak- 
 ness, and locomotor disturbance ; that of the au- 
 ditory centres, by unearthly noises and strange 
 cries, which beset the victim; that of the olfac- 
 tory and gustatory centres, by whims of smell and 
 taste ; that of the ideo-motor centres, by phanta- 
 sies ; and that of the visual centres, by subjective 
 visions. Gi'oups of cells and cell modifications, 
 with which the brain has long been familiar, are 
 thrown confusedly together in the brain of the 
 drunkard, upon the least hint afforded by the 
 character of his surroundings, and become the 
 organic representatives of visions, which are as 
 confused, unmeaning, and strange, as the cell 
 groups themselves. " The perceptions," says 
 Hammond, " the emotions, the intellect, and the 
 will are all implicated to a greater or less ex- 
 tent." ^ Such was the condition of Mr. C.'s 
 brain. In this condition, rays of light from some 
 ornament on his bureau, falling on the retina, 
 called out in one of his visual centres, probably 
 in the angular gyri, cells which were part of a 
 sensory group, stowed away in his brain, as the 
 representative of a familiar black dog. These 
 cells, aided by habit and association, called around 
 them other cells, accustomed to cluster together, 
 whenever the black dog appeared. Soon, by 
 action and reaction, the representative group was 
 formed, and consequently the appearance of a dog 
 telegraphed to the centres above, which accepted 
 
 1 Diseases of the Nervous System, p. 851. 
 
VISIONS. 229 
 
 the report as correct. The picture of the animal 
 was tlien projected into space, and the vision ac- 
 complished. By a similar process, his wife be- 
 came a burglar. He had been a soldier, and had 
 commanded troops in active service for years. 
 Life of the camp, the march, and the battle had 
 stored away in the recesses of his brain numerous 
 sensory cell groups, the organic souvenirs of ugly 
 faces, rascals, and villains. Something about his 
 wife's dress started up the first cell, or cell group, 
 belonging to some scamp he had seen ; that cell 
 started up a companion one, and soon the whole 
 thing went of itself, so that the vision of the burg- 
 lar was complete. The elements of Mr. C.'s alco- 
 holized brain were in an unstable condition readily 
 thrown into strange and unnatural groups, which 
 were as readily dissolved again. His will had as 
 little control over them as over his locomotor ap- 
 paratus. His sensory and ideational and volitional 
 cells were as weak and shaky as his motor ones. 
 
 The pseudopia of Mr. C, due to poisoning of 
 his brain by alcohol, not only illustrates one of 
 the results of alcoholic poisoning, but may be 
 taken as an illustration of a similar cerebral con- 
 dition, induced by the illegitimate use of a num- 
 ber of other drugs. The visions of opium, ether, 
 chloroform, cannabis Indica, belladonna, and kin- 
 dred articles, of which the cerebral action has 
 been noticed, belong to the class of complex auto- 
 matic pseudopia. Although these agents possess 
 an elective action for one part or function of the 
 
230 VISIONS. 
 
 intra-cranial mass in preference to other parts or 
 functions, yet tliey affect all parts somewhat. 
 They appear to act with peculiar energy on the 
 visual and ideational centres, and also to disturb 
 other parts, so that the force with which volition, 
 attention, sensation, habit, association, and emotion 
 play upon the visual mechanism and frontal lobes 
 is sometimes increased, sometimes diminished, and 
 always irregular. 
 
 There are two or three points with regard to 
 the vision power of these drugs, which were not 
 mentioned when they were previously considered, 
 and which may be appropriately described here. 
 
 The physiological action of opium is properly 
 divided by those who have investigated it, into two 
 stages ; a primary stage of stimulation, and a sec- 
 ondary stage of depression. In the primary stage, 
 the functions of the nervous system, and especially 
 those of the cerebrum, are exalted ; in the second- 
 ary stage the same functions are depressed. The 
 primary stage is the delight of the opium eater ; 
 the secondary stage is the one chiefly employed by 
 therapeutists. During the period of exaltation, 
 the visual machinery and ideo-motor apparatus are 
 stimulated to extraordinary activity, and some- 
 times produce extraordinary results. The action 
 is so clearly automatic, that the opium lover seeks 
 to retire alone, by himself, and watch and enjoy 
 the shifting movements of his cerebral panorama, 
 as if they were the scenes of a play. The writ- 
 er's opium experience in childhood, to which ref- 
 
VISIONS, 231 
 
 erence was made in connection with the report of 
 Mr. C.'s case, confirms this statement. He re- 
 calls distinctly the passive condition in which he 
 used to lie and wait for the show, as if he were 
 only a spectator. De Quincey, whose account of 
 the action of opium should not, as was previously 
 hinted, be trusted too implicitly, vividly and ac- 
 curately describes, in the following language, the 
 power of opium to reproduce, automatically, the 
 past : — 
 
 " As the creative state of the eye increased, a sympathy 
 seemed to arise between the waking and the dreaming 
 states of the brain in one point, — that whatsoever I 
 happened to call up and to trace by a voluntary act uison 
 the darkness was very apt to transfer itself to my dreams ; 
 so that I feared to exercise this faculty ; for, as Midas 
 turned all things to gold, that yet baffled his hopes and 
 defrauded his human desires, so whatsoever things cap- 
 able of being visually represented I did but think of in 
 the darkness, immediately shaped themselves into phan- 
 toms of the eye ; and, by a process apparently no less 
 inevitable, when thus once traced in faint and visionary 
 colors, like writings in sympathetic ink, they were drawn 
 out, by the fierce chemistry of my dreams, into insuffer- 
 able splendor that fretted my heart." 
 
 From this exaltation, the primary stage of the 
 action of opium, he passed to the secondary one 
 of depression, which is thus described : — 
 
 " For this, and all other changes in my dreams, were 
 accompanied by deep-seated anxiety and gloomy mel- 
 ancholy, such as are wholly incommunicable by woi'ds. 
 
232 VISIONS. 
 
 I seemed every night to descend — not metaphorically, 
 but literally to descend — into chasms and sunless abys- 
 ses, depths below depths, from which it seemed hopeless 
 that I could ever reascend. Nor did I, by waking, feel 
 that I had reascended. This I do not dwell upon ; be- 
 cause the state of gloom which attended these gor- 
 ,geous spectacles, amounting at least to utter darkness, 
 as of some suicidal despondency, cannot be approached 
 by words." ^ 
 
 The importance of this statement consists in the 
 distinctness with which it brings into view the 
 automatic action of the visual and ideational ap- 
 paratus, and so far confirms the explanation which 
 has been given, of Mr. C.'s vision of the dog and 
 burglar, an explanation applicable to all similar 
 visions. 
 
 The explanation of the intense enjoyment which 
 some derive from opium eating may be found in 
 its stimulating the creative power of the brain. 
 F. W. Faber says, in one of his letters, " The 
 greatest pleasure of life arises from the felt sense of 
 power : the greatest intellectual pleasure is the 
 sense of intellectual power: for creative energy is 
 clearly the most luxurious, and it is power solely." 
 This is not the language of exaggeration. The 
 creative force which opium stimulates is that of 
 re-creating the past ; and in doing so, it yields a 
 pleasure second only to that which attends the exer- 
 cise of original creative energy. Let no one im- 
 
 1 Confessions, etc., ■^■p. 109-10. 
 
 2 Life and Letters of F. W. Faber, p. 45. 
 
VISIONS. 233 
 
 agine, however, that by means of opium he can 
 extract ii'om his brain anything beyond what is 
 native to it, a fact which did not escape the notice 
 of the brilliant author of the " Confessions." A 
 butcher, who takes to opium, will probably dream 
 of oxen, and see pictures of beef ; a poet will be 
 transported to the dreamy splendors of Xanadu 
 and Kubla Khan. Wind touching an ^olian 
 harp will call forth, not the notes of an organ, 
 flute, or viol, but the strains of a harp. Blood 
 charged with opium, and flowing through the 
 delicate chords of the brain, will not make them 
 vibrate with the ideas of Plato, Shakespeare, 
 Goethe, or Emerson, but only with those of the 
 experimenter. 
 
 The reason for dwelling at considerable length, 
 in the first part of this essay, upon the reflex, or 
 automatic power of the nervous system is now 
 apparent. It was necessary to acquire a clear and 
 definite notion of that power, and its modus oper- 
 andi, before it could be shown that the visual 
 centre and other centres of special sense are obe- 
 dient to it, and that it is capable of explaining the 
 appearance and mechanism of visions. The whole 
 visual apparatus may be regarded, from this point 
 of view, as a single ganglionic nerve centre. In 
 orthopia, a visual stimulus, consisting of the motion 
 of waves of light, impinges upon it from without, 
 thi'ough the eye, objectively, and is transformed 
 into sensory and ideational pictures ; and these into 
 ideas, a reflex action, automatic, just as sensation, 
 
234 VISIONS. 
 
 transformed by a spinal ganglion into motion, is a 
 reflex action. In pseuclopia the only difference is 
 that the visual stimulus, which impinges on the 
 visual apparatus, and causes the transformation of 
 sensox-y into ideational action, comes from within 
 the head. In both cases, reflex machinery is put 
 into operation, and is worked by ganglionic nerve 
 power. In Mr. C.'s case, his alcoholized visual 
 centre, catching a shadowy hint, as previously de- 
 scribed, from without, and aided by an alcoholized 
 brain, transformed the hint by reflex action into a 
 black dog. 
 
 Allusion has been frequently made throughout 
 these pages to sensory and ideational pictures. 
 They are not the same, and it is important to ac- 
 quire a distinct notion of the difference between 
 them. The following incident will illustrate the 
 difference better than a formal description. Some 
 months ago, I had occasion to take an average 
 dose of laudanum, at night, for the relief of pain. 
 The desired relief was obtained. I was surprised 
 the next morning, however, to see, on awaking, 
 hanging up on the wall of my chamber, near the 
 ceiling, a mask or masked face of very large pro- 
 portions. After a moment's amazement I re- 
 membered the previous night's dose of laudanum, 
 and ray childhood's paregoric visions, and recog- 
 nized in the mask one of the pranks of opium, but 
 I had not time to get more than one good look at 
 the object before it vanished. During the day I 
 tried in vain to make out what the mask was 
 
VISIONS. 235 
 
 which opium had picked out of my past experience. 
 I could not remember ever to have seen its like. 
 Reflecting upon the pseudopia the next day, I en- 
 deavored to recall it in all its details. I could re- 
 member how it looked, and bring before me a 
 clear idea of it, but I could not project it into space. 
 While doing this, it suddenly flashed upon me that 
 it was the Greek mask of Tragedy which had ob- 
 truded itself into my field of subjective vision, 
 and so it clearly was. The first picture — the 
 pseudopia — was a sensory one; the second, which 
 memory gathered up, was an ideational one. The 
 organic basis of the first was doubtless a group of 
 long disused cells in the angular gyri ; the organic 
 basis of the second, a group of cells in the frontal 
 lobes. The sensory picture was projected into 
 space ; the ideational one remained an idea. The 
 probable explanation of this pseudopia is, that in 
 the early morning light, the brain still muddled 
 and unstable in consequence of exposure to opium, 
 a ray of light shot from a figure on the wall paper 
 to the retina, which stimulated the visual appara- 
 tus to reproduce the cell group of a mask, seen in a 
 theatre or elsewhere, and that group automatically 
 called out cells enough to complete the picture. 
 
 Subjective sights and sounds, flashes of light 
 and strange noises, often occur in epilepsy. They 
 commonly immediately precede an approaching 
 paroxysm, and give warning of it. In rare in- 
 stances true pseudopia is manifested, and when 
 such is the case, the patient can only be persuaded 
 
236 VISIONS. 
 
 with great difficulty to distrust his own eyes. It 
 is not long since an epileptic was found in Eng- 
 land, quietly sleeping off a convulsive paroxysm 
 on a public road, by the side of a man he had 
 killed. Why the crime was committed could not 
 be ascertained, but it is probable that the mur- 
 derer was deceived by pseudopia, preceding a con- 
 vulsion, into the commission of the deed. The 
 visions of epilepsy, like those of delirium tremens, 
 evidently belong to the class of complex auto- 
 matic pseudopia. They are well illustrated by 
 the second of the preceding series of cases, in 
 which there were visions of a man on horseback 
 in a flower garden, of flowing water, soldiers, 
 flocks of animals, and other objects. The process 
 by which these visions were produced is not so 
 apparent as in the first case, but a shrewd guess 
 may be made with regard to it. 
 
 The pathology of epilepsy is not yet well as- 
 certained. Sometimes it results from the reflex 
 disturbance of eccentric irritation, like teething, 
 or the presence of foreign matters in the alimen- 
 tary^ canal ; sometimes, from an irritant within 
 the cranium, as a spiculum of bone ; and some- 
 times from disease of the highest nerve centres. 
 It frequently occurs, however, when nothing can 
 be discovered after death to account for it. Re- 
 cent researches indicate, if they do not demon- 
 strate, that the vaso- motor nerves, by their in- 
 fluence in suddenly and temporarily producing 
 ana3mia, or hyperemia, of the sensorium, lead to 
 
VISIONS. 237 
 
 epileptic convulsions. Such sudden disturbance 
 of the sensorial circulation would be sufficient to 
 account for the visions of epilepsy, as well as for 
 epilepsy itself. Irritation of the vaso-motor cen- 
 tre, by producing contraction of the arterioles, 
 would induce ansemia of the sensorium, conges- 
 tion, or sufficient pressure upon the same centre 
 would lead to an opposite state of the arterioles, 
 and consequently to hypergemia of the sensorium. 
 In both cases the blood supply, the vast impor- 
 tance of which has been pointed out, would be sud- 
 denly and seriously changed. The influence of 
 this can be scarcely overestimated. The intimate 
 anatomical connection of the visual apparatus 
 with the sensorium is such that whatever affects 
 the circulation of the latter, reacts at once upon 
 that of the former. It would be strange, when 
 any such disturbance occurs, if now and then a 
 group of old visual cells should not be thrown up 
 into the field of subjective vision, and attract to 
 itself associated groups, which would excite the 
 automatic action of the visual machinery to pro- 
 duce a complete vision. In this case, sensory pic- 
 tures rather than ideational ones would be formed, 
 and would be likely to appear and disappear with 
 changes in the circulation. 
 
 The doctrine that perception is centric, and 
 not eccentric, which is here applied to the visual 
 apparatus in explanation of the appearance of 
 visions, is not confined in its application to that 
 apparatus. On the contrary, it is the application 
 
238 VISIONS. 
 
 of a general physiological law to the process of 
 vision. It is not unusual, for example, for an in- 
 dividual to complain, weeks, months, or years after 
 the amputation of a limb, foot, or hand, of pain 
 in the amputated part. The sensation has been 
 so strong in some instances, that a foot or hand 
 which had been laid peacefully away has been 
 dug up, in order to ascertain if there were not 
 something torturing it. The accepted and dem- 
 onstrated explanation of this physiological phe- 
 nomenon is the same as the preceding one of 
 pseudopia. When pain occurs in a toe or finger, 
 the fact is telegraphed to the spinal centre of the 
 affected member, and from thence to the appro- 
 priate cerebral centre. Perception of the pain 
 takes place in the brain and is projected to the 
 periphery. Let T., S., and C. represent the toe, 
 its spinal centre and cerebral centre resjDectively. 
 Pain occurring in T. is telegraphed to S., and 
 thence to C. The office of S. is to send telegrams 
 from T. to C. In case of the destruction of T., 
 by amputation of the foot, pain may be felt in S. 
 or in C, in consequence of irritation in those cen- 
 tres, at any indefinite period after the operation. 
 When felt in either of those centres it will be 
 referred to T., whether the latter is attached to 
 the body or lies at the bottom of the ocean. The 
 general law is that in a certain class of 3ases, pain 
 perceived at the centre is referred to some point 
 in the circumference. The analogy between tliis 
 und the previous explanation of pseudopia is evi- 
 
VISIONS. 239 
 
 dent, and it lends additional confirmation to the 
 truth of the explanation. 
 
 The third ease, that of Mrs. B., is remarkable 
 for the distinctness of the vision, for its appear- 
 ance by dajdight, and for the sort of personal 
 identity which the phantom sustained. From the 
 fact that it appeared only in connection with some 
 general febrile disturbance, it is evident that it 
 belonged to the class of complex automatic pseud- 
 opia, and admits of the same explanation as 
 others of that class. It should not be forgotten 
 that headache frequently acompanied Mrs. B.'s 
 febrile attacks, and sometimes proved to be a 
 warning of the approach of her ghostly friend. 
 It is impossible to gather from her account the de- 
 tails of the process, by which old and disused cell 
 groups were so completely revived. All the con- 
 ditions, however, for the production of pseudopia 
 were present. She was naturally endowed with 
 an excitable and nervous temperament. She wit- 
 nessed in childhood an occurrence — a death — un- 
 der circumstances of distress and horror, such as 
 are seen by few, and which made a profound and 
 permanent impression upon her. Her emotions 
 were excited, at the time, to such a degree, that 
 she could never afterwards allude to the event 
 without distress. Later in life she became sub- 
 ject to the febrile attacks just mentioned, which 
 were attended with slight cerebral congestion. 
 At such periods the brain cells, including those 
 of the visual apparatus, were temporarily flushed 
 
240 vrsroNS. 
 
 with blood, and therefore just in the state to be 
 called into activity by the slightest stimulus. It 
 is probable that her pseudopia was, in some rec- 
 ondite way, connected with the terrible occur- 
 rence she witnessed in childhood, though she could 
 never make out the chain of connection. How- 
 ever that may be, it is apparent that whenever 
 the current of blood poured freely through the 
 machinery of vision, cell-groups, which had been 
 deeply stamped by some scene .of which tlie 
 phantom figure was the outcome, were revived ; 
 and as soon as this was accomplished, association, 
 habit, and allied influences, playing on the visual 
 apparatus, would set its automatic machinery at 
 work, and produce her customary pseudopia. 
 
 The next case, which is reported by Miss — ^ , 
 
 the subject of it, is an illustration of what may be 
 called a pseudopic habit. Pseudopia occurred 
 with her in childhood, to such an extent as to 
 torment her ; then ceased for a while ; and later 
 in life returned. Her case, like the previous ones, 
 is an instance of complex automatic pseudopia, not 
 only the visual apparatus, but the whole cere- 
 brum being implicated. It is not difficult to give 
 a satisfactory physiological explanation of her 
 visions. She was congenitally endowed with a 
 sensitive nervous organization, and in childhood 
 exhibited an unusual proclivity to the pseudopia 
 of that age. The hard experience of anxiety, 
 long illnesses, sorrow, and bereavement, to which 
 she was exposed in later years, had a tendency to 
 
VISIONS. 241 
 
 develop, rather than repress the idiosyncrasies of 
 her nervous system. Her emotional nature was 
 sorely exercised, and sorely tried. Great anxiety 
 and exhaustion pi-edisposes to visions, just as star- 
 vation makes its victims dream of savory repasts, 
 
 and tables loaded with food. Miss was often 
 
 exposed both to anxiety and exhaustion, and she 
 herself notices in her report that visions beset her 
 only or chiefly when she was anxious or exhausted. 
 The cells of her visual and other nerve centres 
 were then in their most mobile and sensitive state, 
 readily gathered into groups, by any stimulus 
 however slight, and became the basis of sensory 
 and ideational conceptions. Under such circum- 
 stances, automatic action would exercise its larg- 
 est, and volition its least control. The frontal 
 lobes would partake of the disorder, so that her 
 power of analysis and correct interpretation would 
 be weakened, if not temporarily destroyed. In 
 this condition, a shadow from the wall, or from a 
 curtain fold, or group of clothes, or from almost 
 anything would be sufficient, reaching a visual 
 centre, to stimulate it into activity, and pseudopia 
 
 would result. The figure which Miss saw 
 
 was undoubtedly formed in this way. Some slight 
 stimulus acted on her visual apparatus, the au- 
 tomatic action of which produced the sensory cell- 
 groups of the figure and projected it into space. 
 It was actualized. She saw it though it did not 
 exist. Sir Walter Scott, in his " Demonology and 
 Witchcraft," describes a vision of Lord Byron, ini- 
 
 16 
 
242 VISIONS. 
 
 tiated in this way, with which he was favored, and 
 which he had the insight and good sense to ex- 
 plain correctly : — 
 
 " Passing from his sitting-room into the entrance-hall, 
 fitted up with the skins of wild beasts, armor, etc., he 
 saw right before him, and in a standing posture, the ex- 
 act representation of his departed friend, whose recollec- 
 tion had been so strongly brought to his imagination. 
 He stoj^ped for a single moment, so as to notice the 
 wonderful accuracy with which fancy had impressed 
 upon the bodily eye the peculiarities of dress and pos- 
 ture of the illustrious poet. Sensible, however, of the 
 delusion, he felt no sentiment save that of wonder at the 
 extraordinary accuracy of the resemblance, and stepped 
 onwards towards the figure, which resolved itself, as he 
 approached, into the various materials of which it was 
 composed. These were merely a screen occupied by 
 great coats, shawls, plaids, and such other articles as are 
 usually found in a country entrance-hall. Sir Walter 
 returned to the spot from which he had seen this prod- 
 uct of what may be called imagination proper, and tried 
 with all his might to recall it by the force of his will, 
 but in vain." 
 
 Dr. Tuke, in his " Mind and Body," reports an 
 instance in wliich, by virtue of what he called 
 sympathetic emotion and attention, a number of 
 persons were made the victims, in spite of their 
 eyes, of the same deception, at the same time, and 
 from the same cause : — 
 
 " During the conflagration at the Crystal Palace in the 
 
 1 Quoted by W. B. Carpenter, Mental Physiology, p. 207. 
 
VISIONS. 243 
 
 winter of 1866-1867, when the animals were destroyed 
 by the fire, it was supposed that the chimpanzee had 
 succeeded in escaping from liis cage. Attracted to the 
 roof, with this expectation in full force, men saw the 
 unhappy animal holding on to it, and writhing in agony 
 to get astride one of the iron ribs. It need not be 
 said that its struggles were watched by those below 
 with breathless suspense, and, as the newspapers in- 
 formed us, " with sickening dread." But there was no 
 animal whatever there ; and all this feeling was thrown 
 away upon a tattered piece of blind, so torn as to re- 
 semble, to the eye of fancy, the body, arms, and legs of 
 an ape." ^ 
 
 It is worthy of notice, that in this case and the 
 preceding one, the pseudopia was distinct by day- 
 light, showing how closely it may imitate orthopia. 
 The imitation may be so exact as to render it 
 impossible to distinguish one from the other ex- 
 cept by applying the correction of another sense, 
 or by comparison with the sight of others. The 
 instance just quoted from Dr. Tuke shows that 
 the later form of correction will not always de- 
 tect the error. As a rule, however, it is not 
 difficult to detect pseudopia, whenever an intel- 
 ligent and honest effort is made to do so. 
 
 The next case of the series is the celebrated one 
 of Nicolai, of Berlin, quoted from his own report. 
 It presents several points of great interest, alike 
 to the psychologist and physiologist. It is one of 
 the rare instances, in which both the eye and the 
 
 1 Mind and Body, Am. ed. 
 
244 VISIONS. 
 
 ear were deceived simultaneously. Nicolai saw 
 human forms projected into space before him, and 
 heard them speak. Thus two senses conspired to 
 deceive their owner at the same time. Notwith- 
 standing this, he was not duped. He recognized 
 the error of his eyes and ears, carefully observed 
 the pseudopia, and recorded his observations. This 
 occurred more than one hundred years ago, and 
 indicates a degree of physiological sagacity, phi- 
 losophic thought, and absence of superstition, re- 
 markable for the age in which he lived. His 
 explanation of his visions is far in advance of the 
 science, and, it may be added, of the theology of 
 the last century. The persistence of the pseud- 
 opia and pseudotia, and their evident connection, 
 as in the case of Mrs. B., are important physiolog- 
 ical facts. They show that the cells of the sen- 
 sorium, and of the higher nerve centres, may ac- 
 quire a chronic facility for grouping themselves 
 into old forms. At the present time, aided by the 
 light of modern physiology, his visions admit of a 
 satisfactory solution. Without any doubt, Nicolai 
 saw and heard what he described, but his seeing 
 and hearing were all purely subjective. 
 
 It appears that Nicolai's emotional nature had 
 been stirred to its lowest depths, not long before 
 he was visited by the visions he describes. As the 
 inevitable result of such violent perturbation his 
 sensorial and ideational nerve centres were thrown 
 into a disturbed, excitable, and sensitive state. As 
 a cause or consequence of this, the vaso-motor 
 
VISIONS. 245 
 
 centre dilated the blood-vessels confided to its 
 care, and let in an unusual flow of blood. A 
 group of cells was formed, probably in the angu- 
 lar gyri, which, influenced by association, emotion, 
 habit, and the like, stimulated the automatic ac- 
 tion of the visual apparatus to such a degree, that 
 it revived other cell-groups, accustomed to appear 
 together, till at length the cipher or hieroglyphic 
 of his deceased friend was revived. As soon as 
 this was accomplished, pseudopia was produced. 
 Under the same influences, acting now with in- 
 creased powei", and to which was added undoubt- 
 edly the force of expectant attention, the. vision 
 was projected into space, and the phantom stood 
 forth before the amazed observer, in human shape. 
 The auditory centres, according to the experiments 
 of Ferrier and others, are anatomically near the 
 visual centres. Sound, like light, is a form of 
 motion, and its perception, like the perception 
 of light, is subjective, not objective. Wherever 
 human forms are seen, human speech is commonly 
 heard. The human voice goes with the human 
 form. And so in the brain, when visual cell- 
 groups which represent human forms are called 
 together by orthopia, cell-groups which represent 
 human speech are apt to be called together, at the 
 same time, in the neighboring auditory centres. 
 In the case of Nicolai, habit, association, and ex- 
 pectant attention, intensified by emotion, would 
 unite, as his vision continued to appear, to act 
 energetically on the automatic machinery of hear- 
 
246 VISIONS. 
 
 ing. At length, their influence was such as to 
 set the auditory apparatus iu motion. Auditory 
 cell-groups were formed, and speech was heard, 
 which was inevitably projected out to the figures 
 before him. Thus the united automatic action of 
 his visual and auditory apparatus completed the 
 vision. He saw distinctly, but there was no form. 
 He heard, but there was no voice. 
 
 The voice which Nicolai's friend, Mendelssohn, 
 heard after the experience of intense emotion, is 
 of course to be explained by these physiological 
 principles. Plis auditory cells assumed automati- 
 cally the shape corresponding to sound. 
 
 Nicolai's cerebral congestion was apparently re- 
 lieved by depletion ; and after the congestion was 
 removed his visions ceased. Such was probably 
 the order of occurrences. Hyperaemia and anoe- 
 mia of the brain will produce almost any sort of 
 functional derangement of the intracranial organs. 
 
 The follovnng case, which, like that of Nicolai, 
 illustrates a condition of the brain, probably a 
 state of congestion, capable of producing pseudo- 
 pia, was kindly communicated to the author by 
 Dr. S. Weir Mitchell of Philadelphia, the distin- 
 guished physiologist and neurologist. The sub- 
 ject of the case was a lady, and the report, given 
 in her own language, is in answer to a request for 
 it from Dr. Mitchell, who vouches for the unques- 
 tioned trustworthiness of the reporter. " After a 
 
 long interval," says Mrs. , " an interval indeed 
 
 of years, I recall the ' visions ' of the illness you 
 
VISIONS. 247 
 
 refer to as vividly as though but a few hours had 
 passed since I was first conscious of them. It 
 hardly needs even an effort of memory to see 
 again with startling distinctness the endless pro- 
 cession of tiny men, who floated across the upper 
 part of the wall of my bedroom 023posite the bed 
 where I lay. They entered the room by the tran- 
 som above the door in couples, perfect little men, 
 tiny in form, with cheery bright faces ; long fair 
 hair hanging about their brows and down their 
 shoulders ; thej'^ were dressed all alike in vivid 
 green short-clothes, with long straight waistcoats 
 and deep cuffs ; they came from the time when I 
 saw them first until I slept ; and even sometimes 
 in sleep I dreamed of them carrying, as they 
 always did, each one, a heavy pickaxe, — and a 
 coffin, covered with crimson cloth. The coffins 
 were borne between two of the tiny men, who 
 walked always with their bright little faces turned 
 smilingly toward me, but carrying their strange 
 burden with exceeding care. Endless as this pro- 
 cession seemed, as it entered on one side and 
 passed through the end of the wall on the other 
 side of the room, as on the stage of a theatre 
 figures disappear behind a side scene, I had one 
 means, but only one, of arresting their movement 
 and staying the numerous little figures in their 
 wearying march. When I counted them thet/ 
 stood still, and just so long as I continued to count 
 them, audibly, which I would do day after day 
 until strength and utterance failed me, they re- 
 
248 VISIONS. 
 
 mained motionless, resuming their movement the 
 moment the voice ceased to repeat the numbers. 
 They were never affected by conversation, no 
 matter how much I might myself be interested in 
 it. The drift of the procession swept on and on, 
 until I once said, wearied almost to death by the 
 persistent pressure of its members, to my phy- 
 sician, ' I believe I am going mad.' But one day 
 when my illness had increased, and I was worn 
 by the long continuance of pain and wearisome 
 sleeplessness, I saw a sudden change sweep with 
 startling swiftness over the faces and dress and 
 burdens of my tiny visitors. Looking steadily at 
 me as they always did, the bright cheery faces 
 suddenly changed and shrivelled, growing sad and 
 worn and colorless, like the faces of old men. 
 There was a sudden eagerness and hurry in their 
 movements, contrasting strangely with their for- 
 mer steadiness, if not absolute repose, as each one 
 setting down hurriedly the cofl&n he held, — drew 
 over his bright green clothes a heavy overcoat 
 of dark brown cloth. The coffins, so tiny but 
 so distinct, seemed to grow suddenly heavy, and 
 changed from vivid red to black. The movement 
 of the procession, when at last it was resumed, 
 was no longer rhythmical, but jolting and hurried 
 and confused. This condition of my little visitors 
 lasted through the entire day and night. I hailed 
 it as a welcome change, when on the next morn- 
 ing I found my little men once more in their oi-ig- 
 inal clothing, their ruffled hair all smooth and 
 
VISIONS. 249 
 
 shining, the little faces cheery and bright, and 
 once more the crimson coffins carried by them in 
 serious but rapid procession as at first. This 
 ' vision ' remained with me long after I left my 
 sick-room, returning with any undue exertion or 
 fatigue, dying out with intermissions of hours, 
 then of days, and at last ceasing altogether." 
 
 The following comments were made by the re- 
 porter herself : " 1. I had seen this vision many 
 times before I was willing to speak of it to my phy- 
 sician. 2. I have said that the figures ^oa^e*^ acnoss 
 my room. I think this is slightly inaccurate, they 
 moved as though on a firm but hilly road, march- 
 ing steadily, but following the wall in its rise or 
 fall. 3. When I lay with my eyes shut, I still 
 saw the procession as through the eyelids. 4. In 
 dreaming of them, I saw them as one sees objects 
 in ordinary dreams, not with the sense of creating 
 the objects but simply enumerating them." 
 
 The next case, that of Mr. A., is as interesting 
 and peculiar as that of Nicolai, and formerly 
 would have been as inexplicable. Mr. A. saw 
 three figures in his chamber at night, and heard 
 them sing a number of songs, for about an hour 
 and a half, when his servants could not hear or 
 see any one. Here again two senses, seeing and 
 hearing, were deceived simultaneously. This is 
 unusual ; but the marvel is not, when visions oc- 
 cur, that this sort of double deception should be 
 rare, but that it should not occur oftener. A 
 priori, it would seem, if subjective vision created 
 
250 visroNS. 
 
 a human form, that subjective heanng should 
 endow it with speech. The physiological princi- 
 ples, which have been here discussed, afford a 
 rational explanation of Mr. A.'s vision also. He 
 was an ardent lover of music, and a frequenter of 
 concerts and musical entertainments. During a 
 long life his brain cells had been often grouped to- 
 gether at the sound of music, and at the sight of 
 musical performers. The same groups must have 
 been formed repeatedly, both in his visual and 
 auditory apparatus. For some time before his 
 vision, he began to suffer from cerebral difficulties, 
 of which one of the prominent symptoms was a 
 sense of pressure in the head. There was more 
 or less cerebral congestion, and he finally died 
 of disease of the brain. All these conditions 
 were favorable to functional derangement of his 
 nerve centres. It is conceivable that any sort of 
 cell-groupings, or cell modifications, might occur 
 under these circumstances. The slightest stimulus 
 would be sufficient to put in motion the whole, 
 or a part of his intracranial machinery. He 
 went to bed and fell asleep. While sleeping, the 
 notes of a serenade, or the whistling of a boy in 
 the street, or the vibration of distant music, or 
 even the excitement of a dream, would be enough 
 to rouse his automatic cerebral apparatus into 
 musical activity. Just as the pricking of a finger 
 will rouse that finger's appropriate spinal ganglion 
 sufficiently to move the wounded member, auto- 
 matically transforming sensation into motion, so a 
 
vrsTONS. 251 
 
 rhythmical vibration, touching Mr. A's. auditory 
 ganglia, roused them into activity, transforming 
 sensation into ideation. His visual and auditory 
 centres had acquired the habit, in musical mat- 
 ters, of acting together. Like a pair of old family 
 horses, which had trotted in each other's company 
 for a lifetime, till each had acquired the habit of 
 starting out with the other, without much regard 
 to the coachman's call, so Mr. A.'s sight and hear- 
 ing were trained to the mutual enjoyment of music. 
 One had accompanied the other, for a long life, to 
 concerts and musical gatherings, and each expected 
 to be employed when the other was. As soon, 
 therefore, as some stimulus, however slight, had 
 set the chords of his auditory apparatus into au- 
 tomatic action, producing subjective sound, his vis- 
 ual nerve centres were sympathetically aroused, 
 and soon produced subjective vision. It will be 
 remembered that he heard sounds, apparently in 
 the street, before he saw any one. His auditory 
 apparatus functionated first, and it was not until 
 after the lapse of a considerable interval, that his 
 visual apparatus followed its example. As soon 
 as this was done, the two processes went on har- 
 moniously together. It should be observed that 
 Mr. A.'s vision resembled, in many respects, con- 
 certs with which he was familiar. There were 
 performers, dressed after the orthodox fashion of 
 Miusical artists, who cleared their throats, and got 
 up and sat down in the most approved way, and 
 seemed to do all the little nothings, necessary to 
 
252 VISIONS. 
 
 occupy the interludes. The tune occupied wiis 
 about the length of an ordinary concert, and the 
 selections were familiar to him. It is not probable 
 that any particular concert was rehearsed before 
 him, but that bits of one concert followed bits of 
 another, — a composition, not a copy, — just as the 
 revival of one set of musically stamped cells led 
 to the revival of another. The pseudopia was not 
 repeated, and in Mr. A.'s condition it was not 
 likely to be. The congestion, which yielded blood 
 enough to the visual and auditory apparatus to 
 enable them to go through these abnormal per- 
 formances, increased. Stupor supervened, and Mr. 
 A. died. His suspicions were correct that his vis- 
 ion, a compound of pseudopia and pseudotia, was 
 a warning for him to " step out." During this 
 singular occurrence, and after it, he was so little 
 moved, emotionally and intellectually, that the vis- 
 ion should be classed as simple automatic pseud- 
 otia. His visual and auditory mechanism seemed 
 to act, as far as possible, independently. Groups 
 of old visual and auditory cells moved in and out 
 of his field of seeing and hearing, and were tele- 
 graphed to his ideational centres, as honest re- 
 porters of objective sights and sounds. 
 
 The last case of the series is that of Mr. E., 
 which illustrates two forms of pseudotia, — the 
 complex automatic form, and the volitional form. 
 It possesses an especial value on account of the in- 
 tellectual training and large attainments of its sub- 
 ject. His childhood's experience indicated a ner- 
 
VISIONS. 253 
 
 vous organization predisposed to pseudotia. Pre- 
 vious to his visions, prolonged and unwise mental 
 application had, by inducing excess of nervous ex- 
 penditure over repair, of destructive over con- 
 structive metamorphosis, weakened his nerve cen- 
 tres, rendering their nerve cells and cell contents 
 abnormally sensitive and unstable. The power 
 of coi'rectly interpreting sensorial impressions was 
 impaired, as well as their dependence upon the 
 will. They were liable to start into almost any 
 sort of abnormal action, upon the slightest stim- 
 ulus. This condition was increased by mental 
 excitement, great bodily fatigue, and prolonged 
 abstinence from food. Thus prepared, his brain 
 transformed rays of light, from gas-lamps on the 
 street, into bouquets, caused trees to disappear 
 before him, and arid plains to take their place. 
 A fair-haired youth, the reminiscence of a statue, 
 looked at him from underneath a pulpit, and other 
 forms of pseudopia amazed him. When the state 
 of his nervous system is considered, none of these 
 phenomena can be called strange : they were a 
 sort of lofty delirium. If he had starved and 
 illtreated his bi*ain somewhat more severely, he 
 would have had mania, instead of pseudopia, and 
 been carried to a hospital instead of reaching his 
 college apartment. He was wise in abstaining 
 from the exercise of a power, which he found by 
 experiment he possessed, — that of producing 
 pseudopia by an act of volition. ' It is probable 
 that if he had exercised this power to any great 
 
254 VISIONS. 
 
 extent, he would have injured his nervous system. 
 Goethe might do it, but Goethes are not often 
 found. 
 
 In connection with these clinical observations 
 it is interesting to know that some persons, appar- 
 ently in excellent health, and among them some 
 of the greatest minds, have been visited and puz- 
 zled by visions. Spinoza, — one of the world's in- 
 tellectual giants, who, insensible to prejudice and 
 superstition, never shrunk, in his speculations with 
 regard to man and God, from any conclusions to 
 which his inexorable logic carried him, — has re- 
 corded the fact of being visited by a vision. No one 
 would accuse him of being led astray by fancy, 
 emotion, or any of the false lights, which mislead 
 lesser folk. It appears that " His friend Peter 
 Balling had heard in the night certain groanings. 
 Afterwards, his child fell ill, gave utterance to 
 ■groanings which Balling recognized as identical 
 with those he had before heard in the night, and 
 died. Balling wrote to be instructed whether the 
 groanings he had heard were ' omens.' Spinoza 
 replied at some length in a very curious letter. 
 He considered that the groanings heard by Balling 
 were ' imaginations.' It had happened to him- 
 self, he related, that, waking up one morning, the 
 images of which his dreams had been composed 
 remained obstinately before his eyes, as vivid as 
 though they had been real things. Amongst these 
 was the image of a ' certain black and filthy 
 Ethiopian ' whom he had never before seen. 
 
VISIONS. 255 
 
 This image in great part disappeared when he 
 directed his eyes with attention to a book or other 
 object ; but returned with the same vividuess as 
 it at first possessed, so soon as he allowed his eyes 
 to fall anywhere carelessly/ (sine attentione'). The 
 image at length disappeared from the head down- 
 wards. His description of the phenomenon may 
 be interesting to students of the psychology of 
 dreams."^ 
 
 It is evident that Spinoza, without comprehend- 
 ing the physiology of the phenomenon, justly re- 
 garded the Ethiopian as a construction of his own 
 brain, and not as a supernatural person, or as pos- 
 sessing an objective existence. 
 
 The thought of the poet, overleaping the limits 
 of the age into which he is born, by the insight 
 or rather the far-sight of genius, sometimes detects 
 the secrets of the future with marvellous accuracy. 
 In this respect, Shakespeare always has been, and 
 always will be, the mystery of the ages. Into 
 what science did his eye not penetrate ? Even the 
 physiology of visions did not escape him. He has 
 illustrated and explained them in a few choice 
 words, which excite not less wonder and admira- 
 tion by their physiological accuracy, than by the 
 singular knowledge they display of a subject, 
 about which little or nothing was known two hun- 
 dred years ago. It is worth while to turn aside 
 a moment from the hard path of our dry discus- 
 
 1 Contemporary Review, reprinted in Litlell's Living Age, No. 
 «714, April 21, 1877, p. 143. 
 
256 VISIONS. 
 
 8ion,aiid see how Shakespeare regarded pseudopia. 
 He has admirably interpreted it. In the d.igger 
 scene of Macbeth, the murderer, on his way to the 
 king's cliamber, is confronted by a vision in the 
 air of a bloody dagger. Amazed, he exclaims, — 
 
 " Is this a dagger which I see before me. 
 The handle towards my hand ? " 
 
 Doubting the testimony of his eyes, he proceeds, 
 justifying by so doing his freedom from supersti- 
 tion and fear, to test and correct their evidence by 
 his sense of touch : — 
 
 " Come, let me clutch thee. 
 I have tliee not, and yet I see thee still. 
 Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible 
 To feeling as to sight I " 
 
 Finding that the testimony of the sense of touch 
 confirmed that of sight, he tried another expedient 
 by which to prove the vision, and submitted the 
 dagger in the air to a careful comparison with his 
 own : — 
 
 " I see thee yet, in form as palpable 
 As this which now I draw." 
 
 By these various tests Macbeth is convinced 
 of the reality of the vision he has encountered. 
 Now what is Shakespeare's explanation ? He does 
 not make Macbeth deny the vision, or call it fancy, 
 or a supernatural visitation, or give any of the the- 
 ories of that age. He gives the exact physiologi- 
 cal explanation, in language which, for accuracy 
 and brevity, cannot be surpassed. He calls it : — 
 
VISIONS. 257 
 
 " A dagger of the mind : a false creation, 
 Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain." 
 
 In Macbetb's mei)tul state, intense emotion, 
 driving the blood to the brain, would heat and 
 oppress the nerve centres, producing "a heat- 
 oppressed brain," and by a brain so pressed, sub- 
 jective daggers — daggers of the mind — would be 
 created and projected into space more readily than 
 Goethe could revive a picture by an effort of his 
 will. Shakespeare does not stop here. Macbeth 
 examines the dagger more closely: — 
 
 " I see thee still. 
 "" And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood, 
 
 Which was not so before." 
 
 Satisfied that the vision was a creation of his 
 own brain, not the messenger of any God or devil, 
 and denying its objective, but not its subjective 
 existence, he next demanded the cause of this 
 singular appearance, and says : — 
 
 " It is the bloody business which informs 
 Thus to mine eyes." 
 
 Could any physiologist of to-day, assisted by 
 lenses, laboratories, and all the appliances of 
 scientific investigation, give any better explana- 
 tion ! Whence such knowledge, in the age of 
 Queen Elizabeth ? 
 
 VISIONS OF THE INSANE. 
 
 The visions of the insane present an interest- 
 ing and instructive field of study, and one allied 
 17 
 
258 VISIONS. 
 
 to the proceeding ; but any attempt to explore 
 it would scarcely be in harmony with the design 
 of this essay. Moreover, the insane are a pecul- 
 iar people, possessing peculiar and extraordinary 
 features, and demanding peculiar aptitudes on 
 the part of those who study and manage them. 
 That insanity is a disease of the brain, and not 
 of the soul or mind, independent of the brain, is 
 now admitted by all alienists. Such being the 
 case, ^t follows necessarily that the organic changes 
 and modifications, which underlie insanity, wheth- 
 er discoverable or not by our present means of in- 
 vestigation, must modify the development of its 
 visions, as well as of its other symptoms. The 
 visions of the insane naturally partake of the pe- 
 culiarities of their condition, and although the 
 physiological principles, which have been here en- 
 forced are applicable, mutatis mutandis, to them, 
 yet the discussion of these principles, in their 
 application to insane visionists, properly belongs 
 to those who are charged with their care, and will 
 not be examined here. 
 
 VISIONS OF THE DYING. 
 
 The previous study of the visions of childhood, 
 of adult life, and of disease, naturally lead to an 
 examination of the visions of the dying, — to the 
 pseudopia of the death bed. The subject is a 
 sacred one, and is indissolubly bound up with oui 
 holiest and tenderest feelings. We love, and not 
 unnaturally, to hope and believe, when the silver 
 
 
VISIONS. 259 
 
 cord is loosed which has bound those we love to 
 earth, that, at the moment of the loosing, there 
 may come a glimpse of heaven, which for an in- 
 stant shall clothe the dying features with angelic 
 brightness, and perhaps give to the departing one 
 a momentary recognition of those who have gone 
 before. Such is the conviction of some, the faith 
 of many, and the hope of most. The supersti- 
 tions and traditions of the past encourage this 
 belief, and the private and public history of man- 
 kind furnish innumerable examples which appa- 
 rently illustrate it. There is scarcely a family 
 in the land, some one of whose members has not 
 died with a glorified expression on the features, or 
 exclamation on the lips, which, to the standers by, 
 was a token of a beatific vision. History is full 
 of the detailed accounts of the death-beds of great 
 men, — warriors, statesmen, martyrs, confessors, 
 monarchs, enthusiasts, and others, to whom, at 
 the moment of dissolution, visions of congenial 
 spirits, or of heavenly glories were vouchsafed. 
 
 It seems unnecessary to examine the foundation 
 of such hopes, and almost cruel to destroy them. 
 Yet it is better to know the truth than to adopt 
 a counterfeit of it, or to nourish a faith built on 
 error. Moreover, when the truth which replaces 
 a misconception is comprehended, it yields greater 
 satisfaction and brighter hopes than the old error. 
 Visions of the dying are no exception to this 
 statement. It is better to know what they are 
 and how they are produced, than to leave them 
 
260 VISIONS. 
 
 shrouded in mystery. Could this be accomplished, 
 much of the terror, with which the act of disso- 
 lution is now invested, would disappear, and a 
 serene faith, born of knowledge, take its place. 
 
 Dissolution is a natural event in the course of 
 life, not life's end. It does not close a career, but 
 marks an epoch. Without it the world and life 
 would come to an end, for life is born of death. 
 Being a natural process, death should not be 
 more mysterious, or more painful than other nat- 
 ural processes, and the closest observation shows 
 that it is not so. The mystery which shrouds it 
 is not greater than that which shrouds birth, or 
 thought, or volition ; and yet instinct, fear, hope, 
 imagination, superstition, and religion, have all 
 conspired to misinterpret its attendant phenom- 
 ena, distort its character, and crown it King of 
 Terrors, transforming an angel into a devil, n, 
 blessing into a curse. It is time these false no- 
 tions were dissipated, and death seen in its true 
 nature. It would still be clothed with mystery 
 enough to command the utmost awe and rever- 
 ence, and be the harbinger of sorrow enough to 
 melt and discipline mankind, and to call for all 
 the resources of philosophy and religion. 
 
 One of the most common of these errors is the 
 notion, that pain and dying are inseparable com- 
 panions. The truth is they rarely go together. 
 Occasionally, the act of dissolution is a painful 
 one, but this is an exception, and a rare excep- 
 tion, to the general rule. The rule is that uncon- 
 
VISIONS. 261 
 
 sciousness, not pain, attends the final act. To 
 tlie subject of it, deatli is no more painful than 
 birth. Painlessly we come ; whence we know not. 
 Painlessly we go ; whither we know not. Nature 
 kindly provides an ansesthetic for the body when 
 the spirit leaves it. Previous to that moment, and 
 in preparation for it, respiration becomes feeble, 
 generally slow and short, often accomplished by 
 long inspirations and short, sudden expirations, so 
 that the blood is steadily less and less oxygenated. 
 At the same time, the heart acts with correspond- 
 ing debility, producing a slow, feeble, and often 
 irregular pulse. As this process goes on, the blood 
 is not only driven to the brain with diminished 
 force, and in less quantity, but what flows .there is 
 loaded more and more with carbonic acid gas, a 
 powerful anaesthetic, the same as that derived from 
 charcoal. Subjected to its influence, the nerve 
 centres lose consciousness and sensibility ; appar- 
 ent sleep creeps over the system ; then comes stupor, 
 and then the end. Thus nature, depriving death of 
 
 pain, 
 
 " Gently slopes the way " 
 
 from this world to that. The process resembles 
 the asphyxia of drowning, to which allusion was 
 made, when speaking of the revival of past images, 
 thoughts, and memories, said to crowd the brain of 
 a drowning person. Convulsive twitchings, livid 
 features, gurgling in the throat, and similar ghast- 
 ly symptoms, which mark the last moment, are 
 only exhibitions of unconscious automatic action. 
 
262 VISIONS. 
 
 The testimony of the dying, so long as they are 
 able to give any testimony, is that their suffer- 
 ings do not increase as the termination of life 
 ai)proaches, but on the contrary grow less. The 
 following incident illustrates the truth of this re- 
 mark, and, so far as a single instance is of value, 
 confii-ms what has been said as to the painlessness 
 of dissolution. A medical friend, whom I at- 
 tended professionally in his last illness, was the 
 victim of a most painful disease. He was aware 
 of its incurable character. Supported by an in- 
 telligent faith in God and immortality, he pre- 
 pared himself with admirable courage and unfal- 
 tering trust for the final change. In consequence 
 of continual and severe pain, he was obliged dur- 
 ing the last few months of his life to take opium 
 daily. He sent for me one night soon after mid- 
 night. A brief examination was sufficient to show 
 that the end was near. 
 
 "Do these symptoms mean perforation?" asked 
 Dr. 
 
 " They do," was the reply. 
 
 " Then I have reached the end of the chapter," 
 he quietly remarked, and added, " how long shall 
 I probably last? " 
 
 " That you know," I said, " as well as any one : 
 perhaps twenty-four, or thirty-six hours." 
 
 Scarcely heeding the reply, he continued, — 
 
 " I am ready ; but promise me this : that I shall 
 not suffer pain, if you can prevent it." 
 
 The promise was, of course, given, and I agreed 
 
VISIONS. 263 
 
 to see him every hour or two as long as he lived. 
 This being done, I said to him, " One thing re- 
 mains ; how shall I communicate with you when, 
 at the very close, the time comes that you cannot 
 indicate whether you suffer or not ? " 
 
 After a little talk the following signals were 
 agreed upon : He was to indicate a negative an- 
 swer, or No, by raising the forefinger ; and an af- 
 firmative answer, or Yes, by raising the forefinger 
 and the one next to it also. One finger was No ; 
 two fingers Yes. Having arranged this matter, 
 he took rather more than his habitual dose of 
 opium, and was soon comparatively quiet. The 
 pain did not return. For twelve or fifteen hours 
 he appeared much as usual ; conversed with his 
 family and friends, and was clieerful and serene. 
 Then, as nature's anaesthetic began to act, he be- 
 came dull and heavy. In answer to repeated 
 inquiries as to pain, he constantly replied in the 
 negative. At length, he answered less readily. 
 For an hour or so before death he answered only 
 by the signal of his fingers which had been 
 agreed upon, and by that signal he replied quickly 
 and intelligently. Fifteen minutes before disso- 
 lution, I asked him, " Do you suffer pain ? " He 
 instantly made the negative signal by raising his 
 forefinger. After this he made no sign, but slept 
 peacefully to the end. 
 
 Another erroneous notion is that a momentary 
 glow on the countenance, opening and apparent 
 fixing of the eyes upon some object, or person, or 
 
264 17SI0NS. 
 
 upon vacancy, a certain earnestness of expression, 
 and similar signs, betoken intelligence. All such 
 phenomena as these are automatic. They are 
 analogous to those produced by etherization. An 
 etherized person loses volition, consciousness, and 
 sensibility, but is not deprived of the functions of 
 organic life. And so a person asphyxiated by 
 natural death loses volition, consciovisness, and in- 
 telligence, before automatic action and the func- 
 tions of involuntary life depart. The glowing 
 cheek, and jBxed or rolling eye, are indications of 
 mechanical action after the higher centres have 
 ceased to functionate. 
 
 Deprived of volition and intelligence, and given 
 over, for a brief period, to automatic power, it is 
 to be expected that the intracranial apparatus, 
 and especially the sensory portion of it, would oc- 
 casionally exhibit singular phenomena. The won- 
 der is, not that they do so at all, but that they do 
 not do so oftener. A steam-engine, shattered by 
 a blow and deserted by its engineer, will for a 
 few seconds make a singular exhibition of power, 
 leaping obstacles, running up ascents, plunging 
 into rivers, and illustrating, in a variety of ways, 
 the action of blind force. So the ganglia of the 
 brain, just before dissolution, sometimes show 
 their automatic power by phenomena, which are 
 unusual, and often regarded as supernatural. 
 This is particularly true of the visual apparatus. 
 Not only is the brain released, at this time, from 
 its usual controlling force, and oppressed by an 
 
VISIONS. 265 
 
 angesthetic, but its cells, cell-contents, nerve fibres, 
 and all its tissues must be in a peculiar organic 
 condition, the direct or indirect result of disease. 
 Old sensitized plates (cells) of memory, emotion, 
 thought, sight, and the like, the accumulated 
 stores of a lifetime, must partake of the general 
 commotion, and oftentimes be brought into condi- 
 tions which permit their being easily called into 
 functional activity. Their dynamic state may be 
 temporarily exalted. Should a bright ray of light, 
 falling from some object in the chamber, on the 
 retina of a dying person, excite the visual appa- 
 ratus, and cells, the hieroglyphic of a departed 
 child, husband, lover, or friend, be brought into 
 the field of subjective sight, the beloved one 
 would be reproduced, and at once projected into 
 space. Intense emotion, engendered by such a 
 sight, would for an instant break through the stu- 
 pefying power of nature's ansesthetic, as the sur- 
 geon's knife sometimes momentarily breaks the 
 spell of ether, and the dying individual springing, 
 with ej'es intent, features transfigured, and arms 
 outstretched, toward the vision, would naturally 
 pronounce the long remembered name, and then 
 fall back and die. Such scenes have occurred. 
 Few could .witness them without an overwhelm- 
 ing sense of awe, oppressed 
 
 " With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls." 
 
 at beholding for a moment, the apparent lifting of 
 the veil and the glory within. To the dying, 
 
266 VISIONS. 
 
 such a vision would not be false. It would not 
 be imagination. It would be real to him. The 
 well-known features would be there, and yet they 
 would be a creation, or reproduction of a dissolv- 
 ing bi'ain, and not a messenger from the opened 
 heavens. The vision would be a physiological 
 effect, not a supernatural intervention. 
 
 The following incident illustrates the power of 
 the bruin to revive past memories at the moment 
 of dissolution : — 
 
 " I was watching one night beside a poor man dying 
 of consumption ; his case was hopeless, but there was 
 no ai^pearance of the end being very near ; he was in 
 full possession of his senses, able to talk with a strong 
 voice, and not in the least drowsy. He had slept through 
 the day and was so wakeful that I had been conversing 
 with him on ordinary subjects to while away the long 
 hours. Suddenly, while we were thus talking quietly 
 together, he became silent, and fixed his eyes on one 
 particular spot in the room, which was entirely vacant, 
 even of furniture ; at the same time a look of the great- 
 est delight changed the whole expression of his face, 
 and after a moment of what seemed to be intense scru- 
 tiny of some object invisible to me, he said to me in a 
 joyous tone, ' There is Jim.' Jim was a little son whom 
 he had lost the year before, and whom I had known 
 well, but the dying man had a son still living, named 
 John, for whom we had sent, and I concluded it was of 
 John he was speaking, and that he thought he heard 
 him arriving; so I answered, — 'No. John has not 
 been able to come.' The man turned to me impatiently 
 and said, ' I do not mean John ; I know he is not here ; 
 
VISIONS. 267 
 
 it is Jim, my little lame Jim ; surely you remember 
 him?' 'Yes,' I said, ' I remember dear little Jim, who 
 died last year, quite well.' ' Don't you see him there ? 
 There he is,' said the man, pointing to the vacant space 
 on which his eyes were fixed ; and when I did not an- 
 swer, he repeated almost fretfully, ' Don't you see him 
 standing there ? ' I answered that I could not see him, 
 tliough I felt perfectly convinced that something was 
 visible to the sick man, which I could not perceive. 
 When I gave him this answer he seemed quite amazed, 
 and turned round to look at me with a glance almost of 
 indignation. As his eyes met mine, I saw that a film 
 seemed to pass over them, the light of intelligence died 
 away, he gave a gentle sigh, and expired. He did not 
 live five minutes from the time he first said, ' There is 
 Jim,' although there had been no sign of approaching 
 death previous to that moment." ^ 
 
 The similarity of this vision to some of those 
 forming the basis of our present investigation is 
 obvious. The appearance of this for a single in- 
 stant only, and of those for a considerable period, 
 constitute no essential difference between them. 
 All saw a human form, distinctly, when others 
 could not do so. A similar cerebral condition, 
 not necessarily the same condition, must have ex- 
 isted in all of them, probably a condition char- 
 acterized by more or less hyperemia. If there 
 had been anything supernatural about this case, — . 
 as the reporter of it is inclined to believe, — there 
 should be a supernatural element in the others 
 
 ^ New Quarterly Review, reprinted in LittelVs Living Age, 
 August 11, 1877 (" The Riddle of Death"). 
 
268 VISIONS. 
 
 also. But if physiology can give an adequate an4 
 rational explanation of tliem, the same explana- 
 tion should be applied to this. Wherever natural 
 forces supply a sufficient cause, it is unnecessary 
 and unphilosophical to seek for any other. 
 
 It is stated in this case that the patient was not 
 drows}?^ before the appearance of his vision, or be- 
 fore his death. He died suddenly, so that there 
 was no opportunity or necessity for nature to pro- 
 vide an anaesthetic. This does not militate against 
 the fact that dissolution is ordinarily painless, or 
 against nature's method of securing euthanasia. 
 When death occurs suddenly from disease of the 
 heart' or brain, or from nervous exhaustion or 
 other cause, it must obviously be painless, and 
 the combined action of the heart and lungs, by 
 which nature provides a painless departure in the 
 slower and more common ways of dying, would 
 be unnecessary. It happens not infrequently that 
 a patient, exhausted by long illness, dies suddenly 
 from exhaustion, and if so, without pain. 
 
 It is conceivable that, under the conditions which 
 have been described, almost any sort of pseudopia 
 might occur. Sometimes one of the nerve cen- 
 tres is affected, sometimes another, and sometimes 
 all of them are. Perhaps those most commonly 
 called into activity at the time of dissolution are 
 the motor centres, the irritation or excitement of 
 which is apt to produce general or partial convul- 
 sions. These are always expected. They are 
 the recognized attendants of the death-bed, re- 
 
VISIONS. 269 
 
 garded by the ignorant as an effort of the spirit 
 to free itself from its prison, and christened the 
 death struggle. They are strictly automatic and 
 painless, and physiologically are analogous to vis- 
 ions. At that moment of cerebral cell confusion 
 and disintegration, a stimulus, impinging on a 
 motor centre, excites convulsions ; on a visual cen- 
 tre, visions ; on an auditory centre, sounds, and so 
 on. Automatism rules for a brief period before 
 death closes the scene. 
 
 This cerebral commotion, and the pseudopia 
 which now and then accompanies it, belong to 
 the moment of dissolution. The condition of the 
 cerebral tissues, precedhig the final breaking up 
 by some hours or days, is, of course, somewhat 
 different from their condition at that time. Stu- 
 por and anesthesia, so characteristic of the final 
 stage in most cases, do not appear till an indi- 
 vidurti is moribund. Antecedent to that stage, 
 the sufferer may be heavy, oppressed, and dull, 
 wretched and worn out by the discomforts and 
 agony of disease, but still retain an unclouded in- 
 tellect, unfaltering courage, and serene faith. In 
 this state, when disease, if acute, has been mak- 
 ing rapid inroads upon the system ; if chronic, has 
 been slowly undermining it, the nerve centres are, 
 of course, more or less involved. Waste predom- 
 inates over repair. Weakness characterizes the 
 nervous system as well as the rest of the organiza- 
 tion. All the nerves are unnaturally sensitive, or 
 irritable, even when there is apparent torpidity. 
 
270 VISIONS. 
 
 The eye is easily disturbed by light, and the ear 
 by sounds. The presence of near friends is pleas- 
 ant, of half friends offensive. The gentle pres- 
 sure of a loving hand is more grateful than speech ; 
 light friction of the skin than gossip ; quiet and 
 solitude than excitement and company. All this 
 betrays irritability of the higher nerve centres, 
 and is a state in which they are as sensitive to in- 
 ternal or subjective impressions as tO objective 
 ones. The memories of childhood, of youthful 
 friends and early scenes, are revived with extra- 
 ordinary vividness. Tears come readily. Emo- 
 tions of all sorts are intensified. Cells and cell- 
 groups, which have been associated by the habits 
 and occupations of a life, perhaps of a long life, 
 are easily revived and stimulated into reflex ac- 
 tivity through the brain, and excite its sensory, 
 motor, and ideo-motor centres. These are pre- 
 cisely the conditions which favor the production 
 of subjective pseudopia, and particularly of idea- 
 tional pictures or visions. Thus, Napoleon, en- 
 feebled by sickness, not moribund, but soon to be 
 so, recalling, perhaps subjectively looking upon, 
 scenes of past slaughter and glory, startled his 
 attendant with the cry, '■'■Tete d'' armSer Thus, 
 victims of the Inquisition, starved and tortured 
 into weakness and disease, were often cheered and 
 consoled, on the eve of their auto-da-fe^ by vis- 
 ions of their sainted predecessors beckoning thera 
 to follow. Thus, hospital patients, strangers, poor 
 and friendless, have amazed their companions by 
 
VISIONS. 271 
 
 stories of glorified visitors, bringing hopes of re- 
 lease which were soon verified. Tennyson's " May 
 Queen" illustrated one of these states of quiet 
 thanatopsis, when shortly before her departure, 
 she heard voices of angels calling her to join 
 them. Pages, or rather volumes, could be filled 
 with histories of visions of this sort, if the records 
 and traditions of the past, and especially if the 
 biographies of devout Catholics, were searched 
 for them. Saints, who have mortified the flesh 
 till their ansemic brains, rapidly disintegrating 
 and highly sensitive, are brought to the eve of 
 dissolution, present the most favorable conditions 
 for the production of subjective, ante-mortem 
 pseudopia. With volition at its minimum, reflex 
 activity at its maximum, their nerve-cells wasted 
 and dried into tinder, is it marvellous that their 
 brains should sometimes burn with unwonted 
 light ? 
 
 These and similar manifestations are of peculiar 
 interest to the physiologist, as illustrations of au- 
 tomatic cerebral activity, and to the psychologist, 
 as illustrations of the power of the brain to pro- 
 duce results, which have hitherto been regarded 
 as purely mental. They exhibit not only the 
 power of the sensory and motor apparatus, but 
 indicate the effects which the sensoi-i-motor and 
 ideo-motor apparatus are capable of producing, 
 when, deprived of a coordinating centre, they act 
 independently. Emotions, subjective sensations, 
 pictiorial representations, ideational pictures, ideas, 
 
272 VIRIONS. 
 
 hieroglyphics of the past, and distortions of the 
 present, flow, a confused medley, through the sen- 
 sorium ; flame up there for a moment, with a 
 strange, unearthly light, to disappear, so far as 
 the body is concerned, forever. If this be so, — and 
 what physiologist can doubt it, — the stories of 
 heaven opening over death-beds, upon which an- 
 gels ascend and descend, and of friends gone be- 
 fore, waiting to welcome the new comer, must be 
 referred, not to supernatural agencies, or to the 
 imagination, but simply to the automatic action 
 of the brains of the dying. They are, however 
 much our hopes may wish they were not, the last 
 flickering of life's taper; the occasional flashing 
 of cerebral fires, burning the brain's accumulated 
 stores of experience. 
 
 Probably all such visions as these are automatic. 
 But yet, who, believing in God and personal im- 
 mortality, as the writer rejoices in doing, will dare 
 to say absolutely all ? Will dare to assert there 
 is no possible exception ? If life is continuous, 
 heaven beyond, and death the portal, is it philo- 
 sophical to affirm that no one entering that portal 
 has" ever caught a glimpse, or can ever catch a 
 glimpse, before he is utterly freed from the flesh, of 
 the glory beyond ? May not the golden bowl, just 
 as it is shattered, " be touched by rays from a light 
 that is above it," and flash with a glory no lan- 
 guage can describe ? The pure materialist, sad dis- 
 ciple of nihilism, may dispute this, but no theist or 
 Christian will be bold enough to deny it. Frances 
 
VISIONS. 273 
 
 Power Cobbe, in a recent article from which the 
 last case was quoted, has given utterance to the 
 above thought. " Assuming," she says, " that we 
 are individually already convinced that the quasi- 
 universal creed of the human race is not erroneous, 
 and that the ' soul of a man never dies ' we may 
 not unreasonably turn to the solemn scene of dis- 
 solution, and ask, Whether there do not some- 
 times occur, under one or two perhaps of its hun- 
 dred forms, some incidents which point in the 
 direction of the great Fact, which we believe to be 
 actually in process of realization ? According to 
 our common conviction, there is a moment of time, 
 when the man whom we have known in his garb 
 of flesh, casts it aside, actually, so to speak, before 
 our eyes, and ' this mortal puts on immortality.' 
 .... Of course, it is quite possible that the nat- 
 ural law of death may be that the departed al- 
 ways sink into a state of unconsciousness, and 
 rather dip beneath a Lethe than leap a Rubicon. 
 It is likewise possible that the faculties of a dis- 
 embodied soul, whatever they may be, may need 
 time and use, like those of an infant, before they 
 can be practically employed. But there is also 
 at least a possibility that consciousness is not al- 
 ways lost, but is continuous through the passage 
 from one life to another, and that it expands, 
 rather than closes, at the moment when the bonds 
 of the flesh are broken, and the man enters into 
 possession of his higher powers and vaster facul- 
 ties, symboUed by the beautiful old emblem of 
 
 18 
 
274 VISIONS. 
 
 Psyche's emanc" pated butterfly quitting the shell 
 of the chrysalis. In this hitter case there is a 
 certain primd facie presumption that close obser- 
 vation ought to permit us occasionally to obtain 
 some brief ghmpse, some glance, though but of 
 lightning swiftness and evanescence, revealing 
 partially this transcendent change."^ 
 
 With the hope of throwing some light upon 
 this interesting question, competent persons were 
 asked by the authoress of the " Riddle of Death," if 
 they had ever observed any phenomena, at the 
 moment of dissolution, indicating that the Ego 
 — mind or soul — was conscious of a new phase 
 of existence before leaving this. Nine observa- 
 tions are reported, the character of which was be- 
 lieved to justify such a notion. Judged by the 
 principles forming the basis of our present study 
 of visions, it is unnecessary to go beyond the 
 physiological action of the brain for a rational and 
 satisfactory explanation of most of them. Two or 
 three of the cases, however, present phenomena, 
 of which, to say the least, it is difficult to give an 
 adequate physiological solution. The following 
 incident, the subject of which was an intelligent 
 boy about fourteen years of age, dying of " de- 
 cline " illustrates this remark : — 
 
 " He was a refined, highly educated child, who through- 
 out his long illness had looked forward with much hope 
 and longing to the unknown life to which he believed 
 
 1 The Riddle of Death, by Frances Power Cobbe. LitteU's 
 Living Age and New Quarterly Review. 
 
tisiONS. 275 
 
 he was hastening. On a bright summer morning it be- 
 came evident that he had reached his Last hour. He 
 lost the power of speech, chiefly from weakness, but he 
 was perfectly sensible, and made his wishes known to 
 us by his intelligent looks. He was sitting propped up in 
 bed, and had been looking rather sadly at the bright 
 sunshine playing on the trees outside his open window 
 for some time. He had turned away from this scene, 
 however, and was facing the end of the room, where 
 there was nothing whatever but a closed door, when all 
 in a moment the whole expression of his face changed 
 to one of the most wondering rapture, which made his 
 half-closed eyes open to their utmost extent, while his 
 lips parted with a smile of perfect ecstasy ; it was im- 
 possible to doubt that some glorious sight was visible to 
 him, and from the movement of his eyes it was plain 
 that it was not one but many objects on which he gazed, 
 for his look passed slowly from end to end of what 
 seemed to be vacant wall before him, going back and 
 forward with ever-increasing delight manifested in his 
 whole aspect. His mother then asked him if what he 
 saw was some wonderful sight beyond the confines of 
 this world, to give her a token that it was so by pressing 
 her hand. He at once took her hand, and pressed it 
 meaningly, giving thereby an intelligent affirmative to 
 her question, though unable to speak. As he did so a 
 change passed over his face, his eyes closed, and in a 
 few minutes he was gone." ^ 
 
 Here is another instance in which it is difficult 
 to trace the action of automatism. An elderly 
 man was dying of a painful disease, which, how- 
 ever, did not obscure his mental faculties. Al- 
 1 The Riddle of Death. 
 
276 VISIONS. 
 
 tLough it TraB known to be incurable, hp haxi 
 been told that he might live some months, when 
 somewhat smldenly the summons came on a dark 
 January morning. It had been seen in the course 
 of the night that he was sinking, but for some 
 time he had been perfectly silent and motionless, 
 apparently in a state of stupor; his eyes closed 
 and his breathing scarcely perceptible. As the 
 tardy dawn of the winter morning rf^vealed the 
 rigid features of the countenance from which life 
 and intelligence seemed to have quite departed, 
 those who watched him felt tmcertain whether he 
 still lived ; but suddenly, while they bent over him 
 to ascertain the truth, he opened his eyes wide, and 
 gazed eagerly* up ward with such an nnmistakaVjle 
 expression of wonder and joy, that a thrill of awe 
 passed through all who witnessed it. His whole 
 face grew bi-ight with a strange gladness, while 
 the eloquent eyes seemed literally to shine as if 
 reflecting some light on which they gazed ; he re- 
 mained in this attitude of delighted surprise for 
 some minutes, then in a moment the eyelids fell, 
 the head drooped forward, and with one long 
 breath the spirit departed.^ 
 
 From the observation of death beds for more 
 than a quarter of a century, during which period 
 I have often witnessed the dissolution of persons 
 of all ages and conditions, I can recall only a sin- 
 gle instance of which the phenomena admitted 
 the possibility of any other interpretation than a 
 1 77t€ Kiddk ofDeaiL 
 
nsioss. 277 
 
 physiological one. It was night. The departing 
 one waa a lady of middle age. Her death, though 
 momentarily expected from cardiac disease, was 
 not announced or preceded by the usual anaes- 
 thesia of the dying. During the night, when 
 awake, her mental action was perfect. She con- 
 versed, a few minutes before dying, as pleasantly 
 and intelligently as ever. There was no stupor, 
 delirium, itrangeneii, or moribund sfymptom indi- 
 cating cerebral disturbance. Her cardiac sy mptx^ms 
 alone foreshadowed the great change. After say- 
 ing a few words, she turned her head upon her 
 pillow as if to sleep, then unexpectedly turning it 
 back, a glow, brilliant and beautiful exceedingly, 
 came into her features ; her eyes, opening, sparkled 
 with singular vivacity ; at the same moment, with 
 a tone of emphatic surprise and delight, she pro- 
 nounced the name of the earthly being nearest 
 and dearest to her ; and then, dropping her head 
 upon her pillow, as unexpectedly as she had looked 
 up, her spirit departed to GkKi who gave it. The 
 conviction, forced upon my mind, that something, 
 departed from her body, at that instant rupturing 
 the bonds of flesh, was stronger than language 
 can express. 
 
 There Ls an important difference, in one respect, 
 between the last three cases and the previous ones. 
 In the previous cases a definite object, like a hu- 
 man face, or form, was seen ; sometimes more tlian 
 one indi\'idual appeared. Moreover, those who 
 made themselves visible were departed friends, 
 
278 VISIONS. 
 
 and bore familiar faces. /Their hieroglyphics had 
 been laid away in the cerebral cells of the dying 
 individual, and were consequently capable of be- 
 ing revived with greater or less fidelity. In the 
 last tliree cases, no definite object, form, or face, 
 was apparently seen. The departing person 
 seemed to gaze with intense interest and delight, 
 and a transfigured countenance, upon something, 
 whether some strange beauty, as of a radiant 
 glory, or an angelic group, or sainted friends, no 
 one present could tell, and there was no revealing 
 sign. Silence, surprise, wonder, and rapt gazing 
 ■would be natural to any one, even at the moment 
 of dying, upon whose view such a scene should 
 burst. There would be no revival of brain-cells, 
 stamped with earthly memories and scenes, but 
 something seen, of which the brain had received 
 no antecedent impression, and of which the Ego 
 had formed no conception. 
 
 It is in some such direction as this, if in any, 
 the departing spirit would indicate, just as the 
 old is dropping off, that the new is seen. En- 
 tranced by a glimpse of what eye hath not seen, 
 nor ear heard, and of which man has formed no 
 conception, his gaze would be riveted upon a glory, 
 invisible to his earthly companions. His features 
 would be transfigured, and those around would be 
 amazed, perhaps appalled at the sight, as some 
 fishermen were, two thousand years ago, upon a 
 mountain in Galilee by the transcendent glory of 
 a familiar face. In Correggio's " Notte," the fight 
 
VISIONS. 279 
 
 which illuminates the group around the infant 
 Jesus proceeds from the face of the Christ-child, 
 who, reposing on his mother's lap, unconsciously 
 baptizes all with heavenly beauty. Such should, 
 and such must be, the ineffable expression of trans- 
 figured humanity upon the features of whoever 
 gets a sight of heaven, before he has left the 
 earth. If ever a scene like this occurs, who 
 will dare say that the explanation of it may not 
 come from a height inaccessible to our imperfect 
 physiology ? 
 
 VISIONS OF SLEEP. 
 
 Visions and dreams are near relatives. They 
 are produced by similar causes, depend on similar 
 conditions, and are subject to similar laws. Both 
 inhabit the intracranial territory, manifest them- 
 selves by means of the ganglionic machinery of 
 the higher nerve-centres, and not infrequently 
 delude those they visit into the notion, that their 
 subjective movements are objective realities. Both 
 claim an antiquity equal to that of the human 
 race, and continue at the present day, with greater 
 or less success, to excite superstition, ridicule, or 
 fear, and to -mock or strengthen the faith of man- 
 kind. Hence, a study of visions naturally and 
 almost necessarily leads to a study of dreams, the 
 visions of sleep. These are a part of those ; the 
 latter are included in the former. 
 
 There are two important differences, however, 
 between pseudopia and dreams, which should be 
 
280 VISIONS. 
 
 clearly recognized. One is tliat the mechanism of 
 pseudopia is limited to that of the visual apparatus. 
 Vision, as its name implies, belongs to seeing, and 
 is concerned with other functions only so far as 
 it may be influenced by them. The mechanism 
 of dreams, on the contrary, embraces all the 
 mechanism of sensation and thought. All the 
 higher centres contribute to the evolution, and 
 enhance the complexity of dreams. Pseudopia 
 cheats its victims by the employment of a special 
 apparatus in the abnormal production of false 
 pictorial representations. Dreams aim at the 
 same end, and sometimes attain it by utilizing 
 any part of the nervous machinery of which they 
 can get hold. Pseudopia is limited to a com- 
 parativel}'^ small section of the cerebral system. 
 Dreams occupy the whole. A second distinction 
 between dreams and pseudopia is that the occur- 
 rence of dreams is confined to the period- of sleep, 
 while pseudopia acknowledges no such limitation. 
 A vision may appear and excite the wonder, dis- 
 turb the thoughts, and perplex the judgment at- 
 midday as well as at midnight. A dream creeps 
 stealthily into the brain, displaying its operations 
 when reason and volition are off their guard, and 
 sleep has shorn judgment of its power. 
 
 Sleep, then, is a fundamental condition of dream- 
 ing, Revery and abstraction may occupy our wak- 
 ing hours and lead to self forgetfulness, but be- 
 tween them and dreams there is a great gulf, 
 which must be passed before the land of dreams 
 
VISIONS. 281 
 
 is reached. If it were possible to comprehend 
 the phenomena of sleep, there would be less diffi- 
 culty in comprehending those of dreaming. As 
 it is dreams admit of a more satisfactory explana- 
 tion than sleep. What a mystery sleep is ! So 
 like life and so like death, that it is difficult to 
 say which of the two it resembles most. Under 
 its influence the system exhibits the repose, un- 
 consciousness, and torpor of death, but retains the 
 color, pulse, and breath of life. If we should wit- 
 ness sleep for the first time to-day, we should 
 look upon the subject of its spell with wonder and 
 anxiety, if not with terror, and feel unspeakable 
 relief as we saw movement, intelligence, and speech 
 return. Now, accustomed to its mystery, as we 
 are to that of life, we commit ourselves and our 
 dear ones to its care with thankfulness, not with 
 fear, assured that it will carry us and them, each 
 separately but safely, through the dark and silent 
 valley of unconsciousness to renewed life. In this 
 it is like death, which leads us, each separately 
 and alone, through a passage of equal, perhaps 
 not of greater, darkness and unconsciousness to 
 renewed existence. Socrates was right in saying 
 that whoever does not fear sleep should not fear 
 death. 
 
 The mechanism of sleep is not perfectly made 
 out, but the observations of Mr. A. Durham of 
 England, and of Dr. W. A. Hammond of New 
 York, on the brain, and those of Dr. J. Hughlings 
 Jackson on the retina, show that during sleep the 
 
282 VISIONS. 
 
 activity of the circulation of the blood through 
 a part of the brain is considerably diminished. 
 The physiological action of a continued dose of 
 the bromide of potash, which simultaneously pro- 
 duces sleep and diminished activity of the cerebral 
 blood circulation, points in the same direction. 
 So does the following case : — 
 
 " M. Perquin observed in the hospital of Montpellier, 
 in 1821, a case which throws considerable light upon the 
 actual condition of the brain in profound sleep, and in 
 that in which dreams occur. A female, aged 26, had 
 lost a portion of her scalp, skull bone, and dura mater, 
 under an attack of malignant disease, by means of which 
 a portion of the brain was exposed in such a manner as 
 admitted of inspection. When this patient was in a 
 dreamless state, or in profound sleep, her brain was 
 motionless, and lay within the cranium. When the 
 sleep was imperfect, and the mind was agitated by 
 dreams, her brain moved and protruded from the 
 cranium, forming a cerebral hernia. This protrusion 
 was still greater whenever the dreams, as reported by 
 herself, were most active, and when she was perfectly 
 awake, especially if engaged in active or sprightly con- 
 versation, it attained its fullest development, nor did 
 this protrusion occur in jerks, alternating with recessions, 
 as if caused by arterial blood, but remained permanent 
 while the conversation continued." ^ 
 
 On the other hand section of the sympathetic 
 nerve in dogs produces congestion of the brain, and 
 does not interfere with sleep. From these various 
 observations it may be inferred with reasonable 
 
 1 New Am. Cyclopedia, art. "Dreams." 
 
VISIONS. 283 
 
 certainty that sleep, and a diminished supply of 
 blood to a part of the brain, and congestion of 
 another part, bear an important and definite re- 
 lation to each other, but it does not appear from 
 them which is cause and which effect. Sleep 
 may be the cause of a retarded cerebral circulation, 
 though the reverse is probably the case ; a con- 
 clusion, strengthened by Dr. A. Fleming's experi- 
 ments on compression of the carotid arteries in the 
 neck. Fortunately it is not necessary to decide 
 this question, in order to arrive at a rational ex- 
 planation of dreams. It is important, however, 
 for such a purpose to know that derangement of 
 the cerebral circulation is a constant accompani- 
 ment or co-efficient of sleep. Dreams are mani- 
 fested only by a sleeping brain, and such a brain 
 carries less blood in one part and more in another 
 than a waking one. 
 
 During sleep the process of nutrition is at its 
 maximum. This is especially true of the nutri- 
 tion of the nervous system. Its ganglionic centres, 
 having supplied force for the day's labor, take 
 advantage of the repose of sleep to repair their 
 cells, and obtain fresh supplies of the elements of 
 force. Then the brain is busy, discharging its 
 decomposed products, the debris of effort, thought, 
 and volition, into the blood, and selecting from 
 the constituents of the same fluid the elements of 
 its own power. There is probably some occult 
 connection between this process, and sleep, and 
 a diminished blood supply. It would be strange 
 
284 VISIONS. 
 
 if the contemporaneous action of these three 
 factors were fortuitous. Wundt has put forth the 
 ingenious h3^pothesis that the automatic cerebral 
 excitations of sleep are due to a retardation of the 
 intracranial circulation, and consequent retention 
 in the blood of the products of decomposition. 
 He says : — 
 
 " It is in the highest degree probable that the auto- 
 matic excitement of sleep has its origin in the innervat- 
 ing centres of the medulla oblongata. Retardation of 
 respiration is a frequent accompaniment of sleep. The 
 tendency of the blood, thereby induced, to produce 
 dyspnoea probably acts as an irritant upon the vaso- 
 motor nerve centres and so as to cause retardation of the 
 circulation of blood within the cranium, and consequent 
 irritation of the central parts, and especially of the 
 cortex. This notion is strengthened by the fact that 
 other forms of automatic irritation, like respiratory con- 
 vulsions and epileptic spasms, are most easily excited 
 during sleep." ^ 
 
 If we could look in upon the brain during sleep, 
 and watch the behavior of its minute con- 
 stituents, millions upon millions of cells and cell 
 contents, there would be presented to our view 
 not a scene of repose and inactivity, but one of 
 incessant work. There would be no congestion 
 or pressure of blood through the capillaries, 
 whereby the manifestation of volition, intellection, 
 ideation, and similar nerve action is rendered pos- 
 sible. The sort of tissue chaflge, which the day 
 
 1 Physiologische Psychologie, p. 189. 
 
VISIONS. 285 
 
 had witnessed, would be replaced by tbe labor of 
 repair, and the genesis of cells, granules, protoplas- 
 mic stuff, and all the raw material of cerebration. 
 Everywhere there would be displayed activity, in 
 preparation for the next day's labor. The work- 
 man and the tools would be microscopic, almost 
 infinitesimal, it is true, but still they would be 
 there and at work, and they would be all autom- 
 ata. In health all this work is performed in si- 
 lence. We are utterly unconscious of it. Few, 
 however, enjoy such perfect health, and sleep so 
 normal and profound as to get no hint of the 
 cerebral action which sleep covers ; and when any 
 such hints are received they are apt to become the 
 origin of dreams. What profusion of stuff for 
 dreams is here ! 
 
 Another characteristic condition of the brain 
 during sleep, and one of great importance in its 
 relations to dreams, is the predominance of auto- 
 matic over volitional action. In this respect, the 
 resemblance of sleep to death again appears. As 
 the system approaches dissolution it is surren- 
 dered, more or less unreservedly, to automatic 
 power, and in the act of dying, the surrender is 
 complete. In sleep a similar condition prevails, 
 but the surrender is incomplete, and the power of 
 volition, never entirely gone, can always be re- 
 called. The difference is one of degree. In sleep 
 not only is the superintendence of volition practi- 
 cally removed, but the light of reason is substan- 
 tially extinguished, the guidance of judgment ab- 
 
280 VISIONS. 
 
 sent, and the moral sense obliterated. All the 
 highest faculties, those in most intimate relations 
 with the Ego, and which some suppose to consti- 
 tute the Ego, are in temporary abeyance, and the 
 work of the brain is carried on automatically. 
 At the same time the sensory and reflex centres 
 retain their organic consciousness and activity un- 
 diminished. If a finger is pricked, the sensation is 
 felt, converted into motion, and the finger with- 
 drawn, without awaking the sleeper. The imper- 
 fect digestion of a cold potato, or a Welsh rabbit, 
 may produce the extremity of uneasiness, almost 
 convulsive thrashing of the limbs, and even screams 
 without opening the eyelids. The same holds 
 true of innumerable other sensations, which are 
 transformed into motion during sleep. Not only 
 is this the case, but the delicacy and extent of 
 reflex action sometimes seems to be increased by 
 sleep. Of this the firm and courageous step of a 
 somnambulist along the edge of precipices, or on 
 exposed and dizzy heights, is an example. Emo- 
 tion is often increased in intensity by sleep, and 
 a sleeper will scream with fear at trifles which he 
 would scarcely notice when awake. Any friction 
 of the cerebral machinery is felt and extravagantly 
 magnified. When awake, ideas, or groups of ideas, 
 produced by impressions on sensory or ideational 
 cells, are recognized as subjective ; when asleep, 
 reason and judgment being absent, the same im- 
 pression on the same cells, is apt to be regarded 
 as objective. When the Greek mask of tragedy 
 
VISIONS. 287 
 
 appeared on the ceiling of my chamber, after 
 opium, I was awake and instantly recognized its 
 subjective character. In sleep its subjective na- 
 ture would not have been recognized, and it would 
 have been a dream. 
 
 Such are some of the conditions and character- 
 istics of sleep, a physical state, which affords an 
 opportunity for a display of the phenomena of 
 dreams, without which dreams would be impos- 
 sible, and which deserves a careful study by all 
 who are interested in them. It is doubtful if in 
 normal sleep dreams ever occur, notwithstanding 
 the opinion of many eminent observers to the con- 
 trary. The characteristics of sleep, favorable to 
 dreams, which have been mentioned, are first, and 
 most important, the predominance in the cerebral 
 machinery of automatic over volitional control ; 
 second, the process of repair, by which cell activ- 
 ity is produced and kept up ; third, a tendency 
 to exaggerate sensations, emotions, and ideas ; and 
 fourth, the inactivity of reason and judgment, 
 supplemented by the activity of unreason and 
 misrule. 
 
 This brief survey of the conditions of sleep 
 forms a natural introduction to an examination of 
 the visions of sleep. Most of the current defini- 
 tions of dreams have been framed by psycholo- 
 gists, from a psychological standpoint, and are of 
 course of very little value to a physiologist, or to 
 any one else. They are chiefly interesting as en- 
 vious illustrations of the different notions enter- 
 
288 VISIONS. 
 
 tained by pliilosopbrirs and metaphysicians, with 
 regard to them, and of the loose ideas floating 
 on the public mind concerning the whole subject. 
 Even Sir William Hamilton's definition is inac- 
 curate and obscure. Approached from the physi- 
 ological side, it is less difficult than from any 
 other to get a distinct view of dreams, and conse- 
 quently less difficult from that standpoint to form 
 a tolerably accurate notion of their character. 
 Examined from that point, dreams appear to be 
 the automatic and generally irregular revival of 
 impressions made upon antecedently sensitized 
 cerebral cell-groups, or elements, whether sensory, 
 emotional, motor, ideational, or all combined, and 
 the ideation produced by such a reproduction. 
 The cell-groups, thus revived, may be those 
 stamped by the previous day's experience, or 
 those stamped by the experience of years long 
 gone by, or a medley of recent and old impres- 
 sions, attracted to each other by associations which 
 admit of no explanation. 
 
 In ancient times dreams were supposed to be 
 prophetic. Such was the character of Joseph's 
 dream of sheaves ; Pharaoh's dream of fat and 
 lean kine ; Calpurnia's dream of the Ides of 
 March, which, ridiculed by Caesar, was supposed 
 to be confirmed by the dagger of Brutus ; and 
 numberless other dreams, of which history and 
 tradition have preserved the record. Tertullian 
 regarded dreams as messages, sometimes from God 
 and sometimes from the devil. A belief in the 
 
VISIONS. 289 
 
 prophetic or ominous character of dreams has not 
 yet disappeared. How many persons are there, 
 who, visited on Monday night by a vivid and de- 
 tailed dream of the death by drowning of a son, 
 on the next day, Tuesday, as one of a projected 
 saihng party, would not use every effort to keep 
 hira away from the excursion, or, if this were im- 
 possible, feel greatly relieved at his safe return ? 
 As with the visions of the dying, so with the vis- 
 ions of sleep, the human mind is strongly tempted 
 to believe that dreams open the door for super- 
 natural communications. 
 
 The charactei'istics of dreams curiously corre- 
 spond to the conditions of sleep. They fit into, 
 or, to use a carpenter' s phrase, dovetail into each 
 other. The opportunities afforded by sleep for a 
 brain to play all sorts of pranks with its cells, 
 granules, and elements is taken advantage of, and 
 dreams are the outcome of its unguarded or mor- 
 bid action. 
 
 One of the marked characteristics of dreams is 
 their in'dependence of volition, reason, and judg- 
 ment, a cerebral condition similar to that which 
 occurs in sleep. It is a curious and suggestive 
 fact that the retirement of the blood from the 
 frontal lobes, and from the periphery of the hem- 
 ispheres, which is coincident with the retirement 
 of volition, reason, and judgment from activity, 
 is also coincident with congestion of the base of 
 the brain, with unrestrained if not with augmented 
 activity of sensory, motor, emotional, and autom- 
 
 19 
 
290 VISIONS. 
 
 atic action, and with sleep and dreams. It seems 
 as if the undiscovered power which introduces 
 sleep and permits dreams, while doing so, plays 
 upon one part of the brain in such a way as to 
 inhibit blood supply and the, action of the Ego, 
 and at the same time plays upon another part so 
 as to increase blood supply, and, regardless of the 
 Ego, set free automatic action. At any rate, with- 
 out pushing our speculations further in this attrac- 
 tive direction, it is clear that there is a susf)ension 
 of volitional control over the higher and lower 
 cerebral ganglia when dreaming. Then the Ego 
 becomes a passive spectator, and generally an in- 
 different one, of v/hatever scenes automatic action 
 produces. It should be remembered, however, 
 that the abdication of volition in dreams is never 
 absolute and final. Dreamers are sometimes con- 
 scious of attempting to watch and guide their 
 dreams, and not infrequently of an effort to regain 
 self-control. If a dream is so vivid as to make 
 the excitement it produces intense, the dreamer is 
 apt to awake, when volition, reason, and judgment 
 resume their functions. This, however, occurs 
 rarely. The rule is that dreams are characterized 
 by an absence of volition from the field of cere- 
 bral activity. 
 
 Automatism is another characteristic of dreams, 
 as well as of sleep. It has already been stated 
 that the repair of nerve tissue is most actively 
 carried on during sleep. It is scarcely necessary 
 to add that this repair is exclusively an automatic 
 
VISIONS. 291 
 
 process, which implies, at that period, not only 
 unusual activity, but unusual sensitiveness of the 
 automatic machinery of the brain. Cells and cell 
 elements of all sorts are in commotion, and in 
 greater or less numbers are brought within the 
 sphere of automatic influence. Cell groups as- 
 sociated by near and easily recognized ties, and 
 those united by distant, obscure, and forgotten 
 links, are pushed or drawn up into the field of in- 
 tra-cranial observation, and stimulate the visual, 
 auditory, motor, or other cerebral centre. Thus 
 excited, these nerve centres begin to functionate 
 by their own inherent automatic power as actively 
 as if the whole brain were awake. The cell 
 groups thus brought together form the organic 
 basis, or hieroglyphics, of dreams. Groups, or 
 elements, which at any time during the dreamer's 
 past life may have been brought together within 
 the range of subjective vision, hearing, motion, 
 sensation, or ideation may be and often are drawn 
 within the circle of automatic action, and made 
 the subject of a sort of automatic contemplation. 
 A corpse seen yesterday may enter into last night's 
 dream. Wffen the cell groups representing that 
 corpse are collected, they might readily attract to 
 themselves, under the influence of automatism, 
 another set of groups representing the first corpse 
 seen in childhood, and the scene of its burial. 
 A stranger from India, who mingled with the 
 funeral cortege, might be recalled, by the revival 
 of the elements representing him, and with him 
 
292 VISIONS. 
 
 would come all the " splendor and havoc " of the 
 East with which the dreamer was acquainted, and 
 so on indefinitely. 
 
 Incongruity and incoherence are characteristics 
 of dreams which few have failed to recognize, and 
 which dreams would, a priori, be expected to ex- 
 hibit. Volition absent and automatism supreme, 
 congruity aftd coherence could not be anticipated 
 from the fortuitous revival of antecedently stamped 
 cells and cell elements. Children have a game 
 for the playing of which cards, inscribed with a 
 single letter, word, or part of a phrase, are thrown 
 together into a common receptacle. The wit of 
 the game consists in withdrawing the cards one by 
 one, placing them in a line, in juxtaposition, and 
 reading the result. Generally only a meaning- 
 less jumble appears ; sometimes a familiar .word 
 is formed, and rarely, very rarely, an intelligible 
 phrase crops out of the confusion. When this oc- 
 curs, the wonder of the players reaches the highest 
 degree of amazement. Something like this occurs 
 in dreams. Sensitized cells, of which some are 
 inscribed with a single event or individual, others 
 with complex scenes or actions, som^ belonging to 
 the near, others to the remote past, and possessing 
 no apparent bond of union, are thrown into the 
 sensorium commune; a sort of common receptacle 
 and there they are arranged together, with the 
 result of obtaining grotesque, incoherent, incon- 
 gruous, and vmexpected forms, and of exciting 
 a correspondingly unexpected and unintelligible 
 
VISIONS. 293 
 
 kind of ideation. It has already been intimated 
 that in normal sleep no such by-play of our cere- 
 bral machinery takes place. All is quiet, then. 
 The automatic cell revival is frequently sufficient 
 to make the dreamer remember that there have 
 been visions in his sleep, but not sufficient to ena- 
 ble him to recall them. Occasionally, the revived 
 impressions are so vivid and natural as to arouse 
 and fix the attention of the Ego, and be remem- 
 bered in detail on awaking. In rare instances, the 
 vividness and artistic presentation become start- 
 ling, and the dreamer is almost persuaded, perhaps 
 is really convinced, that his visions had an objec- 
 tive basis, and that he was visited by a supernat- 
 ural message or messenger. 
 
 From this brief examination of some of the 
 characteristics of dreams it is evident that com- 
 mon sense takes no part in the visions of sleep. 
 Where volition is wanting, where reason and judg- 
 ment are in abeyance, and no regard is paid to in- 
 coherence of thought or incongruity of action, com- 
 mon sense cannot be expected to appear. And 
 such, as we have intimated, is the fact. A dreamer 
 regards the sti-angest jumble of events, the most 
 singular confusion of thought, and the most unnat- 
 ural ordering of life, with as much complacency 
 and satisfaction as he derives from the contempla- 
 tion of the noblest actions, or the manifestations of 
 supreme order and beauty. He is not disturbed 
 because a man in Boston converses with his wife 
 in Calcutta ; or a corpse drives itself to the grave, 
 
294 VISIONS. 
 
 instead of being driven there ; or a mosquito as- 
 sumes the proportions of an elephant ; or a child 
 of five Seasons with the wisdom of Solomon. To 
 him all this is credible and natural. But still 
 more surprising than the absence of common 
 sense from dreams is the entire absence of the 
 moral sense from them. This too is to be ex- 
 pected, for a mechanism has no soul. Automa- 
 tism will yield order and perfection of workman- 
 ship, but it can never breed love of goodness or 
 hatred of evil. The dreamer regards virtue and 
 vice, an act of violence and a deed of love, fiends 
 and angels, all that is good and all that is evil, 
 with an equal eye. It is recorded by a recent 
 writer that a certain Mr. D. of Edinburgh dreamed 
 he ran his best friend through with a sword. In 
 his account of the dream, Mr. D. states that he 
 was not at all disturbed by his commission of the 
 deed, or the death of his friend. On the contrary, 
 he was pleased with his own expertness as a 
 swordsman, and watched with simple curiosity 
 the effect of his blow, and was delighted to see 
 how accurately the point of his sword came out 
 from the body of his friend, almost precisely op- 
 posite the point at which he had caused it to enter. 
 His delight was that of a marksman who hits his 
 mark. Similar illustrations might be multiplied 
 indefinitely, but it is unnecessary to give any more 
 of them. The reader's own experience and reflec- 
 tion will be sufiicient to confirm the truth of the 
 statement that the moral sense does not enter into 
 
VISIONS. 295 
 
 dream life. A troubled conscience may produce 
 dreams, but dreams themselves are not troubled 
 by a conscience of any sort. 
 
 By the statement that the visions of sleep lack 
 the guidance of volition, and are independent of 
 reason, judgment, common sense, and the moral 
 sense, it is not intended to assert that they are 
 independent of intellection also. So far is this 
 from being the case that, within certain limits, 
 the opposite of it is true. The dreamer reasons, 
 not as he would do if he were awake, but in a 
 way satisfactory to himself. Moreover, his con- 
 clusions always seem to him to be valid. He is 
 never surprised at any result at which he may 
 arrive. Indeed, it is one of the characteristics of 
 dreams to be free from the element of surprise. 
 If a dreamer, who feels a pain in his toe, infers, 
 possibly stimulated to the inference by the heat 
 of his room, that Mount -^tna is pressing upon 
 his foot, he is not disturbed by the conclusion, but 
 readily accepts it. One of the chief difficulties in 
 the way of comprehending the natural history and 
 physiology of dreams is found in the fact that/ 
 reason is absent from dreams, and yet that the 
 dreamer reasons. A portion of the difficulty 
 would disappear if it were borne in mind that 
 reason and reasoning are not the same things. 
 Reason is a faculty of the mind, or, if a different 
 phrase is preferred, an attribute of the Ego, gifted 
 with the divine power and privilege of recognizing 
 truth, of discriminating good from evil, and so 
 
•296 VISIONS. 
 
 of acting as a guide to humanity, through the 
 mazes of error to the loftiest heights of truth. 
 This faculty takes no part in dreams. Reasoning, 
 on the contrary, is a process, not a faculty ; and it 
 may be good or bad, logical or illogical, sound or 
 absurd. It is altogether independent of reason. 
 Hence, there is no contradiction in asserting that 
 a dreamer reasons, but does not use his reason. 
 Reasoning enters largely into the texture of 
 dreams, but is not in them subjected to the test 
 of reason. Bearing this distinction in mind, it is 
 not difficult to conceive that in dreams, where 
 reason is absent, the most absurd reasoning should 
 be carried on. Moreover, if physiology should 
 demonstrate, by and by, as it probably will, that 
 reasoning is a mechanical process, performed in 
 our waking hours under the guidance of the Ego, 
 by the machinery of the brain, and therefoi'e 
 automatic, it will then be evident that the reason- 
 ing of dreams is only a part of the automatic ac- 
 tion which is their chief characteristic. There are 
 some remarkable instances on record of great in- 
 tellectual effort in dreams. Condillac's composi- 
 tion of a part of his Cours d^^tudes is an illustra- 
 tion in point. The writer is acquainted with a 
 gentleman who performed a long and difficult 
 piece of intellectual work with accuracy, in a 
 dream. He was in college at the time and har- 
 assed by work. On one occasion, he was sur- 
 prised at finding himself sitting up, in his night- 
 clothes, at his study table, an hour or two after 
 
VISIONS. 297 
 
 midnight, with a task accomplished which, on the 
 evening previous, he was unable to comprehend. 
 Carpenter calls such labor unconscious cerebration. 
 By using such a term he indicates its automatic 
 character. 
 
 Dreamers have been compared to children, and 
 dreams to children's fancies. The comparison is 
 not a fortunate one. For children possess the 
 germs of all the faculties of adult life, none being 
 in abeyance. It would be more accurate to say 
 that dreamers resemble animals, who exhibit the 
 force of automatic action, with little or no inter- 
 ference from other sources. It is worthy of re- 
 mark in this connection, that in regard to the 
 absence of moral sense from dreams, to which allu- 
 sion has already been made, dreamers and animals 
 are alike. Perhaps the best distinction between 
 man and the animal creation below him, is the 
 fact, that man is the only animal that calls him- 
 self to account for his own actions. When a dog 
 worries a cat, there is no evidence that he retires, 
 after his amusement is over, to consider whether 
 he has been engaged in a good or an evil action, 
 and to call himself to an account, accordingly. 
 There is no evidence that any of the lower ani- 
 mals ever enter into this sort of self-examination. 
 Man alone does this. Man alone calls himself to 
 account for his own deeds, irrespective of the fear 
 :)f punishment, or the hope of reward. In dreams 
 this distinction is obliterated, and the dreamer, 
 losing the moral sense, is assimilated to a lower 
 
298 VISIONS. 
 
 order of beings. It is possible that this fact gives 
 us a hint of what animals sometimes seem to be 
 thinking of. Who that has watched a horse, gaz- 
 ing intently upon some passing show ; or a cow, 
 quietly ruminating in the shade of a tree ; or a 
 dog, watching a body of laborers at work ; or a 
 cat musing before the fire ; or a canary bird, in- 
 tently listening to the gossip of a family breakfast 
 near its cage, has not wondered what these ani- 
 mals were thinking of? Possibly like dreamers 
 they are simply watching, without any regard to 
 the quality of the action, how the thing will come 
 out. Often stimulated by what they see to the 
 most strange and fantastic actions, their fancies, 
 like a dreamer's ideation, are strange, grotesque, 
 and meaningless ; and so are dreams. 
 
 It has been stated by some observers, that 
 dreams are not wholly deprived of the guidance 
 of volition, or of a certain amount of judgment. 
 The evident attempts at harmony of combination 
 and selection of objects of attention, which dreams 
 have sometimes exhibited, have been regarded as 
 evidence that reason, judgment, and volition are 
 not always and wholly excluded from the visions 
 of sleep. This conclusion is not warranted by 
 the facts of physiology. On the contrary, the 
 amount and sort of volition which appear in 
 dreams and the apparent exercise of choice which 
 they put forth are evidences, not of the action of 
 the Ego, but of automatic power. The thorough 
 •materialist resolves all volition into reflex or au- 
 
VISIONS. 299 
 
 tomatic action, pretty good evidence, not of the 
 correctness of his conclusions, but of the fact that 
 a large amount of what has been regarded hitherto 
 as belonging to the function of the mind and the 
 will is really automatic. Probably no j^bysiologist 
 at the present day would refer the small amount 
 of spontaneous action and attention which dreams 
 exhibit, to any other source than automatism. 
 The character of the reflex function of the nerv- 
 ous system was so fully explained and illustrated 
 in the first part of this essay, that it is only nec- 
 essary to refer to it here as a chief factor in the 
 pi-oduction of that sort of movement in dreams, 
 which seems to be the result of volition and at- 
 tention. The highest and most delicate opera- 
 tions of automatic action are so like spontaneity 
 and conscious attention, that this sort of automa- 
 tism is sometimes called automatic volition and 
 automatic attention. No kind of selection is so 
 exact, and apparently intelligent as that which is 
 automatic. Put a dozen bits of iron filings and a 
 dozen grains of broken granite together on a table, 
 hold over and near them a magnet, and the mag- 
 net will select and pick up the iron with unerring 
 certainty. If a dog is following his lost master 
 over a public highway, and comes to a place 
 where the road divides into several paths, all of 
 which bear the impress of innumerable human 
 foot-prints, inextricably blended together, the dog 
 will unhesitatingly select and follow his master's 
 foot-print. In the case of the magnet there is 
 
300 VISIONS. 
 
 simply selection ; in the case of the dog, there are 
 both selection and volition. The dog selects his 
 master's foot-print and determines to follow it. 
 In both cases the actions are automatic. And so 
 in the visions of sleep a cell-group, drawn within 
 the circle of automatic influence, may be so sensi- 
 tized that like the magnet it attracts certain other 
 cell-groups, thus exercising what seems to be in- 
 telligent selection. And as a dog, after receiving 
 the impression of a special odor, determines to 
 follow the foot-print which exhales it, so a nerve 
 ganglion, after receiving the impression of a pain 
 in the foot, decides to send a motor influence 
 down to the motor apparatus of the foot and re- 
 move the suffering part. This act, which is ap- 
 parently volitional, is automatic. Cells, or cell- 
 groups, which possess an affinity for each other, 
 attract each other ; and this they do irrespective 
 of volition. Throw a handful of sand upon a 
 drum-head, and let a person play an instrument 
 of music near by, and the sand will arrange it- 
 self in orderly lines and harmonious groups ; let 
 a number of brain cells, impressed, like the nega- 
 tive of a photograph, with past individuals, events, 
 scenes, men, rivers, trees, all that makes up the 
 scenery of life, be present in the brain, as they 
 are in the silence of the night, and then let some 
 strain of music strike the ear, or a cool blast of 
 air sweep over the face, or a crack in the wood- 
 work go off like a pistol, or a child scream in a 
 neighboring room, or the colic from an undigested 
 
VISIONS. 301 
 
 potato send up a sudden pain into the brain, and 
 the brain cells lying there, unstable and unexcited, 
 will arrange themselves into some sort of grouping 
 in harmony with the strain of music, the scream, 
 or the colic, just as the sand heaps arrange 
 themselves on a drum-head in harmony with the 
 note of a flute, or a strain from Nilsson's throat. 
 This combination, with the ideas it produces, is 
 a dream. This harmony of adjustment seems to 
 indicate intelligence and volition, while in reality 
 it is no more so than the harmonious jumping 
 about of sand on the drum-head. 
 
 Another characteristic of dreams, and one by no 
 means to be neglected, is the apparent rapidity of 
 action which they exhibit. Events, which in our 
 waking life require years for their occurrence, take 
 place in the course of a few days, hours, or min- 
 utes. A child may grow in our dreams from in- 
 fancy to manhood in a few moments. A dream 
 may witness the beginning and end of a civil war. 
 A dreamer, regardless of the difference of time 
 which separates Csesar from General Grant, would 
 place himself at a dinner table between the two, 
 and chat with them as contemporaries. A friend, 
 who called upon the writer yesterday, dreamed 
 the night previous that he took a walk with the 
 Reverend Lyman Beecher, and the elder Josiah 
 Quincy of Boston, and was not at all surprised at 
 their simultaneous appearance as his companions. 
 Space is annihilated in dreams as well as time. 
 The world is dwarfed to the compass of a dream- 
 
302 VISIONS. 
 
 er's arms. B, in Boston talks with C. in Calcutta 
 as easily as if they sat in chairs that touched each 
 other. An allusion was made a little way back to 
 the fact, tliat sleep resembles death ; and it is the 
 best counterfeit of the great mystery that we know 
 anything of. It is a curious and suggestive 
 thought that dreams, which occur only in sleep, 
 and so occur only in a state which bears the like- 
 ness of death, should be characterized by a fact 
 which, if there be any future life, can only be 
 realized in that future existence. The fact to 
 which we refer is the characteristic just men- 
 tioned, that dreams are free from the limitations 
 of time and space. The dreamer, partially es- 
 caped from the fetters of the flesh, roams like a 
 disembodied spirit, without time or space to hinder 
 him. In the future life there can be no such 
 thing as time. A thousand years are as one day, 
 and one day as a thousand years. In the future 
 life thei'e can be no such thing as space. New 
 England, Australia, in that existence, are neigh- 
 bors to the mountains in the moon, to Arcturus 
 and the Milky Way. This must be so, or there is 
 no future life. A child dies in Yokohama, and the 
 instant the soul leaps from the body, it can talk 
 to its earthly parent in Boston, as if the Pacific 
 and the Rocky Mountains and the prairies did not 
 intervene. And thus it happens that one of the 
 strangest facts of dream life — a life that exists 
 only in sleep, and comes and goes like a flash, — 
 hints at a life which has neither beginning nor 
 
VISIONS. 303 
 
 end, and is bounded by no limits which human 
 thought can compass. 
 
 Tiiese are some of the characteristics of dreatns. 
 Others might be mentioned, but these are enough 
 to show how singularly and curiously they har- 
 monize with the conditions of sleep. They are 
 simply the unconscious cerebration of that por- 
 tion of the brain, over which sleep has no power. 
 Sleep affords the opportunity, within certain lim- 
 its, for the brain to act of itself, and dreams are 
 the result. 
 
 Dreams exhibit every possible variety. They 
 may be roughly classified thus : first, simple 
 dreams ; second, medleys ; and third, artistic 
 dreams. 
 
 Simple dreams consist of a single event or scene. 
 Sometimes they are concerned only with a single 
 individual, as when one dreams of seeing the face 
 or form of a relative or friend, without any attend- 
 ant circumstances ; sometimes they are concerned 
 with a single occurrence, like falling down a preci- 
 pice, or breaking one's nose, or swallowing a snake, 
 or starting on a journey, or receiving or giving an 
 injury, or a benefit, or in some way being the sub- 
 ject or the spectator of some common or strange, 
 expected or unforeseen, pleasant or horrible, oc- 
 currence. They are a play in a single act. The 
 second class of dreams or medleys are perhaps the 
 most common of all. They consist of several in- 
 dividuals or events, mixed up in a strange and 
 incongruous way. Oftentimes they are composed 
 
304 VISIONS. 
 
 of a series of disconnected events or scenes, the 
 details of which are filled with animals, and ob- 
 jects, and human beings, fairies, grotesque crea- 
 tions and equally grotesque combinations, and all 
 the odd stuff with which dreamers are familiar. 
 Sometimes it is possible to trace the threads of 
 connection which draw such a medley together, 
 but more commonly they escape the most cai'eful 
 scrutiny. That there is some secret attraction, 
 which draws these images into the field of auto- 
 matic cerebral activity during sleep, when the 
 higher centres of the brain are quiet, cannot be 
 doubted. Such visions of sleep are plays in sev- 
 eral acts, of which the various parts are thrown 
 confusedly together, and the actors drawn from 
 the past experience of the dreamer's life. Artistic 
 dreams are of occasional though not of frequent 
 occurrence. They are made up of individuals, 
 events, and scenes, which form more or less of an 
 harmonious combination. Like pictures which ar- 
 tists call compositions, they are made up of de- 
 tails, taken like the details of a medley from life's 
 varied expei'ience, and harmoniously blended, so 
 that the whole forms a scene, or a series of scenes, 
 which are startling on account of their appearance 
 of vivid reality. Such dreams do not often take 
 place, but when they do they are regarded by 
 some persons with a sort of superstitious awe, as 
 prophecies of the future, or interpreters of the 
 present. Examples are better than description ; 
 and therefore let us endeavor to use the doctiine 
 
VISIONS. 305 
 
 of the preceding pages as a key to the explana- 
 tion of a few di'eams, given as iUustrations of the 
 visions of sleep. 
 
 A young medical gentleman, busy with his pro- 
 fessional studies, had occasion to spend the night 
 at the house of a stranger. His host was an in- 
 valid. The house as well as its occupants were 
 unfamiliar to the guest. Before retiring the vis- 
 itor, whom we will call Mr. H., called upon his 
 host and bade him good-night in his bed. Mr. 
 H. was then conducted to his own chamber by 
 the daughter of his host and a female servant. 
 Sometime during the niglit he dreamed that he was 
 in a strange place. Where it was, and what he 
 was there for, he did not know. Presently he 
 saw a bed in his room and apparently somebody 
 in the bed. He got up to find out who had in- 
 truded upon him, when he found that a bed was 
 really there, and that there lay stretched at full 
 length upon it a female, covered with a sort of 
 drapery, and having an extremely pale counte- 
 nance. A closer examination showed that she 
 was dead, and laid out like a corpse. Not fancy- 
 ing a neighbor of that sort, he was about to re- 
 monstrate with his host for being put into a 
 chamber thus occupied, when he awoke, and it 
 was a dream. This belongs to the class of simple 
 dreams, and liappens to admit of an easy expla- 
 nation. Its chief interest lies in the fact that it 
 illustrates the principles which have here been en- 
 forced. Mr. H. was a medical student. He was, 
 
 20 
 
306 VISIONS. 
 
 of course, a good deal occupied with the labor and 
 occupants of the dissecting-room. Corpses of 
 both sexes and all ages, placed in all sorts of posi- 
 tions, and wearing all sorts of expressions, were 
 familiar to him. Groups of brain cells and cell 
 elements, the hieroglyphic representatives of these 
 ghastly beings, were latent in his brain, ready at 
 any time to be evoked. With this sort of furni- 
 ture in his brain, he spent the night at a strange 
 house among strange people. One of the last 
 things he saw before retiring was a sick man 
 stretched upon a bed. Among the very last ob- 
 jects pictured upon his brain, before going to 
 sleep, were two females who conducted him to his 
 chamber. Moreover, it happened that the few 
 minutes conversation which he held with his host 
 as he bade him good-night, were about death and 
 dying. From this it appeal's that Mr. H., hav- 
 ing a brain furnished with dissecting room pic- 
 tures, went to bed in a strange house, among 
 strange people, having just before going to sleep 
 talked about death, seen a sick man stretched 
 upon a couch and looked upon twa females who 
 ushered him into his chamber. After he got to 
 sleep, a slight attack of indigestion, enough to 
 make him grit his teeth and groan faintly, stimu- 
 lated the automatic activity of his brain ; and his 
 brain, thus stimulated, produced the dream, which 
 was in reality a reproduction of what was familiar 
 to him. Sleeping in a strange place made him 
 dream that he was transported to some mysterious 
 
VISIONS. 307 
 
 locality. Talking about dying brought death 
 into his dream. Associated with death came the 
 familiar corpses of the dissecting room. His host 
 sick on a bed, brought the sick bed and reclining 
 figure into his room, while the females who bade 
 him good-night turned the figure from a man into 
 a woman. Thus it appears that all the stuff of his 
 dream was in the cells of his brain, and indiges- 
 tion set the machinery at work which combined 
 them into a picture. 
 
 The following incident, which is a curious illus- 
 tration of the automatic dream power of the brain, 
 occurred to Lord Brougham, and is given here in 
 his own language : — 
 
 " Tired with the cold of yesterday, I was glad to take 
 advantage of a hot bath before I turned in. And here 
 a most remarkable thing happened to me — so remark- 
 able that 1 must tell the story from the beginning. 
 
 After I left the High School, I went with G , my 
 
 most intimate friend, to attend the classes in the Uni- 
 versity. There was no divinity class, but we frequently 
 in our walks discussed and speculated upon many grave 
 subjects, among others, on the immortality of the soul, 
 and on a future state. This question and the possibility, 
 I will not say of ghosts walking, but of the dead ap- 
 pearing to the living, were subjects of much speculation ; 
 and we actually committed the folly of drawing up an 
 agreement, w7-itten with our blood, to the effect that 
 whichever of us died the first should appear to the 
 other, and thus solve any doubts we had entertained of 
 the " life after death." After we had finished our classes 
 at the college, G went to India, having got an ap- 
 
308 VISIONS. 
 
 pointment there in the civil service. He seldom wrote 
 to me, and after tlie lapse of a few years I had almost 
 forgotten him : moreover, his family having little connec- 
 tion with Edinburgh, I seldom saw or heard anything 
 of them, or of him through them, so that all the old 
 school-boy intimacy had died out, and I had nearly for- 
 gotten his existence. I had taken, as I have said, a 
 warm bath ; and while lying in it and enjoying the com- 
 fort of the heat after the late freezing I had undergone, 
 I turned my head round, looking toward the chair on 
 which I had deposited my clothes, as I was about to 
 
 get up out of the bath. On the chair sat G looking 
 
 calmly at me. How I got out of the bath I knew not, 
 but on recovering my senses I found myself sprawling 
 on the floor. The apparition, or whatever it was, that 
 
 had taken the likeness of G , had disappeared ; the 
 
 vision produced such a shock that I had no inclination 
 to talk about it, or to speak about it even to Stuart, 
 but the imjaression it made upon me was too vivid to be 
 easily forgotten ; and so strongly was I affected by it, 
 that I have here written down the whole history, with 
 the date, 19th December, and all the particulars as they 
 are now fresh before me. No doubt I had fallen 
 asleep ; and that the appearance presented so distinctly 
 to my eyes was a dream, I cannot for a moment doubt ; 
 
 yet for years I had no communication with G , nor 
 
 had there been anything to recall him to my recollec- 
 tion ; nothing had taken place during our Swedish 
 
 travels either connected with G , or with India, or 
 
 with anything relating to him, or to any member of his 
 family." .... 
 
 More that half a century later Lord Brougham 
 supplemented the preceding account by the fol- 
 lowhig note : — 
 
VISIONS. 309 
 
 "E. Brougham, Oct. 16, 1862. 
 I have just been copying out from my journal the 
 account of this strange dream : Certissima mortis imago ! 
 And now to finish the story begun about sixty years 
 since. Soon after my return to Edinburgh there ar- 
 rived a letter from India announcing G.'s death ! and 
 stating that he had died on the 19tli of December ! ! " -^ 
 
 Many of the data necessary to a satisfactory 
 explanation of this singular vision, are not to be 
 found in Lord Brougham's account of it ; but 
 enough are given, however, to enable a physiolo- 
 gist to frame a probable and reasonable explana- 
 tion. It will be noticed that this description gives 
 an account of two entirely different phenomena. 
 One is the vision which appeared to Lord Brough- 
 am in his bath ; the other, the death of his friend 
 G. in India. These two phenomena, the vision 
 in England, and the death in India, should not be 
 confounded together. They are not necessarily 
 parts of the same event, and we must not hastily 
 assume that they bear the relation to each other 
 of cause and effect because the vision and the 
 death occurred simultaneously. Let the fact of 
 G.'s death, at the time of the vision, be laid aside 
 for the present and the vision alone considered. 
 
 The facts are these. When Lord Brougham 
 was a young man, gifted, as the world knows he 
 was, with intellectual power of the highest order, 
 he became intimate with another young man of 
 
 1 The Life and Letters of Henry Lord Brougham, written by him' 
 self. New York, 1871. Vol. i., p. 146. 
 
810 VISIONS. 
 
 congenial tastes, and undoubtedly of considerable 
 intellectual force. As fellow students they dis- 
 cussed, it appears, some of the greatest themes 
 with which the human mind ever grapples, such 
 as immortality, God, the problems of human life, 
 and similar themes ; some of which Lord Brough- 
 am has since studied and expounded with singular 
 ability. It is difficult to conceive of circumstances, 
 better calculated than these to impress, power- 
 fully and profoundly, the mind of one so gifted as 
 Lord Brougham. Impressions naturally made by 
 such discussions as have been described, were 
 deepened by a compact, made with all the folly 
 and enthusiasm of which genius is capable, and 
 consecrated and sealed with the blood of those 
 who made it. Like the oath of Grutli, the com- 
 pact was intended to be sacred and inviolate, 
 reaching beyond this life into the next. The cells 
 of young Brougham's brain must have been 
 stamped, more deeply than ever before by any 
 other event, with the features of his friend G.'s 
 face, and with the ideas and hopes and resolutions 
 which the compact thej^ had entered into inspired. 
 G. disappeared from the orbit of Brougham's life. 
 The brain cells which had been thus stamped, 
 sensitized like a photographic plate, were laid away 
 in the recesses of Brougham's brain. There they 
 were deposited, the hieroglj^phic representations of 
 G.'s face and form and of the compact and the 
 attendant ideas, like a portrait in a garret, or a 
 manuscript in a drawer, ready to be brought out, 
 
VISIONS. 311 
 
 whenever anything should occur, capable of drag- 
 ging them into the light. The cells remained 
 latent in Brougham's brain for a long period, with- 
 out anything to call them into the region of per- 
 ception. Still the cells were there ; they were 
 deeply stamped and were in a condition to be 
 called into activity at any time. With a brain 
 containing the cell-group referred to, Lord Brough- 
 am got a chill, while travelling in Sweden, and 
 after the chill refreshed himself, with what he 
 says was a warm bath. It is evident from the 
 result of the bath, that the water was hot rather 
 than warm. Lord Brougham got from the heat 
 to which he exposed himself a congestion of the 
 brain. The congestion clearly was not apoplexy, 
 yet it was near being so, for he says that he fell 
 asleep but still contrived to get out of his bath- 
 tub, and then fell upon the floor, unconscious. 
 It will be remembered that a moderate anjemia 
 of the periphery of the brain, and a moderate hy- 
 peraemia of the base of the brain are among the 
 conditions of sleep, and consequently of dreams 
 which occur only in sleep. The congestion pro- 
 duced by the bath naturally intensified these con- 
 ditions. What Lord Brougham had been talking 
 about with his friend, Stuart, shortly before the 
 bath, does not appear from the description ; but 
 it would be strange if the subjects of God and 
 a future life did not enter into their conversa- 
 tion, when we reflect that such subjects occupied 
 0, very large share of Lord Brougham's attention 
 
312 VISIONS. 
 
 and study during liis whole life. We know from 
 his account of the case, that he examined and dis- 
 cussed them with G. Such a discussion, added to 
 the stimulus of a warm bath, would be sufficient 
 to bring within the sphere of automatic activity 
 the latent cell-groups which were the represent- 
 atives of G. The groups appearecj ; subjective 
 vision was accomplished ; and Lord Brougham 
 saw the friend of his youth apparently projected 
 into space before him. 
 
 The connection between the death of G. in 
 India, and the vision in Brougham's brain, is prob- 
 ably only that of coincidence. At any rate, phys- 
 iology has no explanation to offer of such a phe- 
 nomenon. Those who believe that it is more 
 than coincidence must seek for an explanation by 
 means which science cannot employ, and in a 
 region into which physiology cannot enter. And, 
 moreover, such persons must not forget the fact 
 previously mentioned, that the future life is not 
 conditioned by time or space ; so that when G. 
 died in India he was as near Brougham in Eng- 
 land as if they were in the same room. Hence, 
 looking at the vision from the spiritual side, we 
 can conceive how G., having no limits of space 
 between him and Brougham at the moment of 
 death, should at that moment instantly be near 
 him. But how G. could communicate with Lord 
 Brougham is again a matter about which we are 
 utterly ignorant. In reality, we do not know how 
 we communicate with each other. The lips open, 
 
VISIONS. 313 
 
 the tongue moves, and the air vibrates, but I do 
 not know how that makes an idea pass from me 
 to you, or from you to me. Still less can we 
 guess how a disembodied spirit can commuii^ate 
 with flesh and blood. 
 
 One other suggestion may be made. God never 
 employs a new method, that is, a supernatural one, 
 when an old method, that is, a natural one, will 
 accomplish the object he has in view. He loves 
 to employ the simplest measures. The same 
 mathematical curve, which governs the growth of a 
 violet, guides the stars in their courses. Follow- 
 ing this law, we should expect that G., if he 
 wished to appear to Brougham, would not reclothe 
 himself with our miserable habiliments of flesh, 
 but would simply act upon Brougham's brain in a 
 way to produce subjective vision. So God may 
 act upon the human brain, so as to indicate his 
 presence and become a working force in it, with- 
 out ever assuming a gross anthropomorphic objec- 
 tive form. 
 
 The following dream resembles in some respects 
 the preceding one, and illustrates even better than 
 that the method which the brain pursues in pro- 
 ducing dreams : — 
 
 " The most frequent general organic condition of the 
 sensory apparatus during the existence of hallucinations 
 would appear to be one of congestion, or fulness of 
 blood. A circumstance directly illustrative of this is 
 related in the 'Psychological Journal' for April, 1857, 
 ds occurring to the writer himself. He says : ' We 
 
31 1 VISIONS. 
 
 have known cases of ghost-seeing when wide awake, 
 which have been cured by leeches at the front of the 
 forehead, — evidently indicating that they have resulted 
 
 from a congestive state of the perceptive faculties 
 
 We were on a visit in , and had taken more wine 
 
 than usual. It was the summer-time, and the weather 
 very hot and dry, which combined sensations rendered 
 
 us feverish and uncomfortable We went to bed, 
 
 but not to sleep, and tossed and tumbled, changing our 
 position every moment, but were too restless to repose ; 
 at length we turned towards the window and perceived 
 between it and the bed a short, thick-set, burly figure, 
 with a huge head, staring us in the face. Certainly 
 nothing could appear more real or substantial, and after 
 gazing on this monstrous creature, we put out our hand, 
 when he opened his ponderous jaws and bit at us. We 
 tried various experiments with the creature, — such as 
 putting our hand before his face, which seemed to cover 
 a part of it. The longer we contemplated it, the more 
 palpable was this figure, and the more wrathful were its 
 features. Struck with the apparent reality of the ap- 
 parition, we mechanically felt our pulse ; it was throb- 
 bing at a fearful rate ; our skin was hot and dry, and 
 the temporal arteries were throbbing at railway speed. 
 This physical condition had produced the phantom. We 
 then jumped out of bed, when the spectre seemed to be 
 nearer and of more gigantic proportions. We then 
 threw open the window to admit a little more air, 
 sponged our head and body, and thus, by removing the 
 cause, the monster disappeared.' " ^ 
 
 The second class of dreams or medleys is illus- 
 trated by the following dream taken from Wundt. 
 1 A Physician's Problems. Elam, p. 284. 
 
VISIONS. 315 
 
 " I am able to illustrate by some examples this inter- 
 weaving of various causes which may work together in 
 such a way. I dreamt that a funeral procession in 
 which I was to take part stopped before my house ; it 
 was the burial of a friend who had died a short time 
 previously. The wife of the deceased invited me and 
 other friends to place ourselves upon the other side of 
 the street in order to take part in the procession. As 
 we went out an acquaintance remarked she only said 
 that because there was cholera on that side of the street 
 and she wished to retain this side for herself. Now the 
 dream suddenly changed into the open air. I found 
 myself in long and irregular by-ways in order to shun 
 the places where cholera prevailed. When I finally, 
 after straining every nerve in running, had reached the 
 house, the funeral procession had departed. But still 
 numerous bouquets of roses were strewed about the 
 street, and a number of stragglers, who appeared to me 
 in my dream as attendants upon the funeral, were all 
 like myself in haste to rejoin the procession. These 
 funeral attendants formed a motley crowd, especially 
 some who were clad in red clothing. Whilst I hastened 
 it occurred to me that I had forgotten a wreath which 
 I had intended to lay upon the coffin. Thereupon, I 
 awakened with palpitation of the heart." 
 
 THE END. 
 

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