Buchanan's Journal of Man, July 1887 / Volume 1, Number 6

by Unknown

The experiments demonstrate that sensation in the hypnotic states varies between the two opposite poles of hyperæsthesia and anæesthesia; in other words, the senses may be extraordinarily exalted, as in somnambulism, or, as in lethargy, they may be extinct, except sometimes hearing. In somnambulism the field of vision and acuteness of sight are about doubled, hearing is made very acute, and smell is so intensely developed that a subject can find by scent the fragment of a card, previously given him to feel, and then torn up and hidden. The memory in somnambulism is similarly exalted. When awakened the subject does not, as a rule, remember anything that occurred while he was entranced, but, when again hypnotized, his memory includes all the facts of his sleep, his life when awake and his former sleeps. Richet attests how somnambules recall with a luxury of detail scenes in which they have taken part and places they have visited long ago. M——, one of his somnambules, sings the air of the second act of the opera “L’Africaine” when she is asleep, but can not remember a note of it when awake.

There is a theory that no experience whatever of any person is lost to the memory; it is only the power to recall it that is defective. The authors of this work say that, while the exaltation of the memory during somnambulism does not give absolute proof to the theory that nothing is lost, it proves at any rate that the memory of preservation is much greater than is generally imagined, in comparison with the memory of reproduction, or recollection. “It is evident,” they say, “that in a great number of cases, where we believe the memory is completely blotted out, it is nothing of the kind. The trace is always there, but what is lacking is the power to evoke it; and it is highly probable that if we were subjected to hypnotism, or the action of suitable excitants, memories to all appearance dead might be revived.”

A comparison between the phenomena of awakening from natural and artificial sleep is instituted. In the case of dreams, recollection more or less vivid persists for a few seconds, then becomes effaced. This forgetfulness is even more marked in the case of hypnosis. On returning to natural consciousness, the subject cannot recompose a single one of the scenes in which he has played his part as witness or actor. The loss, however, is not complete, for often a word or two is sufficient to bring back a whole scene, though this word or two coming from operator to subject, partakes more or less of the nature of a suggestion.

SUGGESTION.

“Suggestion,” by which is meant the production of thoughts and actions on the part of the subject through some indication or hint given by the operator, is found to be analogous to dreaming. Say the authors: “For suggestion to succeed, the subject must have naturally fallen, or been artificially thrown into a state of morbid receptivity: but it is difficult to determine accurately the conditions of suggestionability. However, we may mention two. The first, the mental inertia of the subject: * * * the consciousness is completely empty: an idea is suggested, and reigns supreme over the slumbering consciousness, * * * The second is psychic hyperexcitability, the cause of the aptitude for suggestion.” “For example, we say to a patient: ‘Look, you have a bird in your apron,’ and no sooner are these simple words pronounced than she sees the bird, feels it with her fingers, and sometimes even hears it sing.” “Again, in place of speech we engage the attention of the patient, and when her gaze has become settled and obediently follows all our movements, we imitate with the hand the motion of an object which flies. Soon the subject cries: ‘Oh, what a pretty bird!’ How has a simple gesture produced so singular an effect?”

“It is admitted, however, that the hypothesis of the association of ideas only partly covers the facts of suggestion, even when stretched to include resemblances. For instance, when we charge the brain of an entranced patient with some strange idea, such as, ‘On awakening you will rob Mr. So-and-so of his handkerchief,’ and on awakening, the patient accomplishes the theft commanded, can we believe that in such a sequence there is nothing more than an image associated with an act? In point of fact, the patient has appropriated and assimilated the idea of the experimenter. She does not passively execute a strange order, but the order has passed in her consciousness from passive to active. We can go so far as to say that the patient has the will to steal. This state is complex and obscure, hitherto no one has explained it. * * * The facts of paralysis by suggestion completely upset classical psychology. The experimenter who produces them so easily knows neither what he produces nor how he does it. Take the example of a systematic anæsthesia (paralysis of sensation). We say to the subject, ‘On awakening you will not see Mr. X., who is there before us; he will have completely disappeared.’ No sooner said than done; the patient on awakening sees every one around her except Mr. X. When he speaks she does not answer his questions; if he places his hand on her shoulder she does not feel the contact; if he gets in her way, she walks straight on, and is terrified at being stopped by an invisible obstacle. * * * Here the laws of association, which do such good service in solving psychological problems, abandon us completely. Apparently they do not account for all the facts of consciousness.”

PORTRAITS BY HALLUCINATION.

A remarkable and suggestive series of experiments performed with portraits by hallucination is given in the book. These experiments show, that if by suggestion a subject is made to see a portrait on a sheet of card board which is exactly alike on both sides, the image will always be seen on the same side, and, however it is presented, the subject will always place the card with the surfaces and edges in the exact positions they occupied at the moment of suggestion, in such a manner that the image can neither be reversed nor inclined. If the surfaces are reversed, the image is no longer seen; if the edges, it is seen upside down. The subject is never caught in a mistake; the changes may be made out of his sight, but the image is invariably seen in accordance with the primitive conditions, although absolutely no difference is to be detected by the normal vision between the two blank surfaces.

One experiment brings out this fact clearly. On a white sheet of paper is placed a card equally white; with a fine point, but without touching the paper, the contour of the card is followed while the idea of a line traced in black is suggested to the subject. The subject, when awakened, is asked to fold the paper according to these imaginary lines. He holds the paper at the distance at which it was at the moment of suggestion, and folds it in the form of a rectangle exactly superposable on the card.

A curious experiment in the same line has been often repeated by Prof. Charcot. The subject is given the suggestion of a portrait on a white card, which is then shuffled up with a dozen cards all alike. On awakening, the subject is asked to run over the collection, without being told the reason why it is wished. When he comes to the card on which had been located the imaginary portrait, he at once perceives it. One detail of these experiments is very significant. Supposing we show the imaginary portrait at a distance of two yards from the subject’s eyes, the card appears white, whereas a real photograph would appear gray. If it is gradually brought nearer, the imaginary portrait at last appears, but it is necessary for it to be much nearer than an ordinary photograph for the patient to recognize the subject. By means of opera glasses we can make the patient recognize her hallucination at a distance at which she could not perceive it with the naked eye. In short, the imaginary object which figures in the hallucination is perceived under the same conditions as if it were real. Various other experiments are detailed in support of this formula. The opera glasses only act as if they were focussed upon the point of hallucination, and in the case of a short-sighted subject they had to be altered to allow for the defect of vision. If the patient looks through a prism the image is seen duplicated, although the subject is absolutely ignorant of the properties of a prism, as well as of the fact that the glass is a prism. A photograph of the plain white card used when the photograph was suggested may be substituted, and on being shown to the patient, the hallucinatory image is seen just the same, even two years after the original experiment, as was done in one case.