corpses, whose limbs still quivered; a digusting smell of blood and bitumen almost choked me. At length the iron gate of the prison, shutting with great force, awoke me again. I made my repeater strike; it was no more than midnight, so that the horrible phantasmagoria had lasted no more than two or three minutes, that is to say, the time necessary for relieving the sentry and shutting the gate. The cold was severe and the watchword short. The next day the turnkey confirmed my calcula.tions."

Our dreams will not unfrequently go through all the particulars of some long journey, or of some military expedition, or of a circumnavigation of the globe, or of other long and perilous undertakings, in a less number of hours than it took weeks, or months, or even years in the actual performance of them. We go from land to land, and from city to city, and into desert places; we experience transitions from joy to sorrow, and from poverty to wealth; we are occupied in the scenes and transactions of many long months; and then our slumbers are scattered, and, behold, they are the doings of a fleeting watch of the night!

This striking circumstance in the history of our dreams is generally explained by supposing that our thoughts, as they successively occupy the mind, are more rapid than while we are awake. But their rapidity is at all times very great; so much so, that in a few moments crowds of ideas pass through the mind which it would take a long time to utter, and a far longer time would it take to perform all the transactions which they concern. This explanation, therefore, is not satisfactory, for our thoughts are oftentimes equally rapid in our waking moments.

The true reason, we apprehend, is to be found in those preceding sections, which took under examination the apparent reality of dreams. Our conceptions in dreaming are considered by us real; every thought is an action; every idea is an event; and successive states of mind are successive actions and successive events. who in his sleep has the conception of all the particulars of a military expedition to Moscow or of a circumnavigation of the globe, seems to himself to have actually

He

experienced all the various and multiplied fortunes of the one and the other. Hence what appears to be the real time in dreams, but is only the apparent time, will not be that which is sufficient for the mere thought, but that which is necessary for the successive actions.

66

Something perfectly analogous to this may be remarked," says Mr. Stewart," in the perceptions we obtain by the sight of sense.* When I look into a showbox, where the deception is imperfect, I see only a set of paltry daubings of a few inches in diameter; but if the representation be executed with so much skill as to convey to me the idea of a distant prospect, every object before me swells in its dimensions in proportion to the extent of space which I conceive it to occupy, and what seemed before to be shut within the limits of a small wooden frame, is magnified in my apprehension to an immense landscape of woods, rivers, and mountains."

§ 166. Of the senses sinking to sleep in succession.

It is true, as a general statement, that in sleep the mind ceases to retain its customary power over the muscular movements of the system; and all the senses are at such times locked up, and no longer perform their usual offices. The effect upon the senses is such that it seems to be proper to speak of them as individually going to sleep and awaking from sleep. It remains, therefore, to be observed, that there is considerable reason to suppose that the senses fall asleep in succession. -For a detailed explanation and proof of this singular fact, reference must be had to Cullen, and particularly to Cabanis, a French writer on subjects of this nature; but the conclusion at which they arrive on this particular point may be here stated.t

The sight, in consequence of the protection of the eyelids, ceases to receive impressions first, while all the other senses preserve their sensibility entire; and may, therefore, be said to be first in falling asleep. The sense of taste, according to the above writers, is the next which loses its susceptibility of impressions, and then the sense * Stewart's Elements, chapter on Dreaming.

† Rapports du Physique et du Moral de L'Homme, mem. x.

of smelling. The hearing is the next in order, and last of all comes the sense of touch.-Furthermore, the senses are thought to sleep with different degrees of profound

ness.

The senses of taste and smelling awake the last; the sight with more difficulty than the hearing, and the touch the easiest of all. Sometimes a very considerable noise does not awake a person; but if the soles of the feet are tickled in the slightest degree, he starts up immediately.

Similar remarks are made by the writers above referred to on the muscles. Those which move the arms and legs cease to act when sleep is approaching sooner than those which sustain the head; and the latter before those which support the back.—And here it is proper to notice an exception to the general statement at the commencement of this section, that the mind, in sleep, ceases to retain its power over the muscles. Some persons can sleep standing, or walking, or riding on horseback; with such we cannot well avoid the supposition, that the voluntary power over the muscles is in some way retained and exercised in sleep.-These statements are particularly important in connexion with the facts of somnambulism; only admit that the susceptibility of the senses and the power of the muscles may remain even in part while we are asleep, and we can account for them. We know that this is not the case in a vast majority of instances; but that it does sometimes happen is a point which seems at last to be sufficiently well established,

167. General remarks on cases of somnambulism.

With the general subject of dreaming, that of Somnambulism is naturally and intimately connected. Somnambulists, as the term itself indicates, are persons who are capable of walking and of other voluntary actions while asleep. Of such persons many instances are on record; and the facts which they present to our notice are both practically and psychologically matters of considerable interest and importance.

(I.) A number of things may be said in explanation of somnambulism. The somnambulist, in the first place, is in all cases dreaming, and we may suppose, in general,

that the dream is one which greatly interests him. After he has awaked, the action he has passed through appears, in his recollection of it, to be merely a dream, and not a reality. "A young nobleman," says Dr. Abercrombie, "living in the citadel of Breslau, was observed by his brother, who occupied the same room, to rise in his sleep, wrap himself in a cloak, and escape by a window to the roof of the building. He there tore in pieces a magpie's nest, wrapped the young birds in his cloak, returned to his apartment, and went to bed. In the morning he mentioned the circumstances as having occurred in a dream, and could not be persuaded that there had been anything more than a dream, till he was shown the magpies in his cloak." And this is noticed to be commonly the fact. What has been done has the appearance of being a dream. And there is no doubt that the mind of the somnambulist is in that particular state which we denominate dreaming.

(II.) In the second place, those volitions which are a part of his dreams retain their power over the muscles, which is not the fact in the sleep and the dreaming of the great body of people.-Consequently, whatever the somnambulist dreams is not only real in the mind, as in the case of all other dreamers, but his ability to exercise his muscles enables him to give it a reality in action. Whether he dream of writing a letter, of visiting a neighbour's house, of cutting and piling wood, of thrashing his grain, or ploughing his field (acts which have at various times been ascribed to the somnambulist), his muscles are faithful to his vivid mental conceptions, which we may suppose in all cases closely connected with his customary labours and experiences, and frequently enable him to complete what he has undertaken, even when his senses are at the same time closed

up.

But the inquiry arises here, How it happens, while in most cases both senses and muscles lose their power, in these, on the contrary, the muscles are active while the senses alone are asleep?-In reference to this inquiry, it must be acknowledged, that it is involved at present in some uncertainty, although there is much reason to anticipate that it may hereafter receive light from further in

vestigations and knowledge of the nervous system and functions. There is a set of nerves which are understood to be particularly connected with respiration, and which appear to have nothing to do with sensation and with muscular action. There is another set which are known to possess a direct and important connexion with sensation and the muscles. These last are separable into distinct filaments, having separate functions; some being connected with sensation merely, and others with volition and muscular action. In sensation, the impression made by some external body, exists at first in the external part of the organ of sense, and is propagated along one class of filaments to the brain. In volition and voluntary muscular movement, the origin of action, as far as the body is concerned, seems to be the reverse, commencing in the brain, and being propagated along other and appropriate nervous filaments to the different parts of the system. Hence it sometimes happens, that, in diseases of the nervous system, the power of sensation is in a great measure lost, while that of motion fully remains; or, on the contrary, the power of motion is lost, while that of sensation remains. These views help to throw light on the subject of somnambulism. Causes at present unknown to us may operate, through their appropriate nervous filaments, to keep the muscles awake, without disturbing the repose and inactivity of the senses. A man may be asleep as to all the powers of external perception, and yet be awake in respect to the capabilities of muscular motion. And, aided by the trains of association which make a part of his dreams, may be able to walk about and to do many things without the aid of the sight and hearing.

§ 168. Further illustrations of somnambulism.

(III.) Further, we are not to forget here a remark on the sleep of the senses, a subject already briefly alluded to, and which is an exception to the general statement then made in regard to them. Both in somnambulism and in ordinary cases of dreaming the senses are not always entirely locked up; many observations clearly show that it is possible for the mind to be accessible through them, and that a new direction may be given in