Now when the brain’s influence is kept from muscle, that muscle will still possess irritability, derived from the spinal marrow; nay, that irritability will be greater, because it has not been expended by the acts of that volition, which resides solely in the brain, and which is now cut off. Thus the excito-motory function, and the influence of volition, are in these cases antagonists. And this principle of the incident and reflex spinal nerve is an explanation of the curious dilemma, regarding the suspension of the will in sleep and dream, to which Dr. Stewart alludes.—“Not a suspension of volition, but only of its influence over those organs, which it moves when we are awake.” Decide for yourselves between the physical and metaphysical theories.
Yet, do you not see that all this does not essentially require the direction of mind? If you tickle the palm of a sleeping child, it will close its hand upon your finger; if you awake it, and engage its attention, it will often leave its hold. This is a fact proved by the anencephalous or brainless children. Even the puppy, deprived of its brain, and also the mammary fœtuses of the kangaroo and opossum, fix eagerly on the nipple when it touches their lips. There is a beautiful mechanism in the foot of the roosting birds, adapted to this physiological law. The tendon of the claws is tightened immediately they are touched, by which action they contrive to grasp the bough or perch even when asleep. In cases of paralysis even, the foot will sometimes be instantly drawn up, although it does not possess the least sensation; we may assert, then, that irritability is in an inverse ratio to sensibility.
The polype, in which we trace no brain or nerve, exists and moves by its irritability, and without sensation or consciousness. We know also that the vis insita, or vis nervosa of a muscle, that is, its irritability, exists even after the animal life has ceased. The turtle will live and move long after its brain has been removed. The heart itself, an involuntary muscle, is stimulated also to action without sensation. The heart of the assassin, Bellingham, beat long after he was cut from the gallows.
If I have made these things clear, I am now prepared to explain, with some anticipation, those two curious contrasts, somnambulism and incubus. If the spinal or motive nerves be asleep, and the cerebral or intellectual, or volition nerves, awake, we shall have night-mare; if, on the contrary, the motive nerves are in excess, beyond the sensiferous or volition nerves, we have sleep-walking.
Astr. I believe the philosophy of Leibnitz affirms two perceptions; one with, and another without, consciousness. I do not recollect if he distinguishes the seat of these perceptions; but, if the brain be that which perceives, I presume consciousness will follow that perception sometimes in so slight a degree as not to excite judgment or reflection. Am I correct?
Ev. You have adopted the common error of metaphysicians. If, in the abstraction of waking moments, some persons talk to themselves, as it were unconsciously, so, from the reflex influence, may volition and motion occur, with as little self-feeling. That the immediate impression, however, and a necessity of action, may combine, is illustrated by Dr. Beattie’s case of the officer who could be thus excited in his sleep. By a whisper in his ear, he was induced to go through the whole ceremony of a duel, and did not completely wake until the report of his pistol roused him. This gentleman was also told that he had fallen overboard, and he began to imitate the motions of swimming; then that a shark was following him, when he would dive off his couch upon the floor; and when he was told that the battle was raging around him, he proved himself an arrant coward by running away.
Somnambulism may be induced by congestion or irritation of that point where the incident nerve blends with the grey matter of the spinal marrow, producing internal irritation, as the tickling of the foot does through the cutaneous nerves of a senseless limb.
Cast. We are thankless creatures, dear Evelyn, but all this reiteration bewilders me, does it not you, Ida? Yet, in my simplicity, I can but think it unphilosophical entirely to disregard the will as the spring of our actions.
Ev. If I must EXPLAIN, fair lady, I cannot avoid prolixity. But to your question I will answer, no; for somnambulism may be excited by the memory of an intention. In the experiment made by the committee of the physical society of Lausanne, on the Sieur Devaud, of Vevay, it was proved that on the evening before the fit of somnambulism, his head was heavy, and he had a sense of oppression on his eye-lids. If, at this time, the mind was impressed by some legend, or story, or incident, the actions of the sleep-walk were perfectly coincident with such a subject. If a romantic tale of banditti were related, his alarm would be apparent in his subsequent sleep. In this somnambulist was beautifully illustrated the effect of permanent impression on the brain, rendering, for a time, the sense of vision useless; for having once perused his paper, it was so imprinted on his mind, that the exact spot for each letter was exactly fixed on by the finger. And we have heard of one more interesting case, in which the somnambule, remembering that he had made errors in his writing, traced, on a blank paper substituted for that written on, the corrections, in the very places corresponding to the erroneous writing. And that here was memory was proved in this, that during the time his eyes were shut, the pen was dropped on the very spot where the inkstand stood; but this being removed, no ink was obtained, and the writing was blank.
Now we believe that there are certain vessels which contribute to nervous energy, perhaps by secreting a nervous fluid in the brain, or by concentrating electricity, which Dr. Faraday believes may constitute the animal portion of the nervous system. This influence may be profusely accumulated in a waking state; the resolution to act has been formed; or, there may be a rapid production in sleep of this energy. Then, when sleep occurs, this impression becomes uncontrolled. The third form of insanity of Spurzheim, irresistibility, exists, and the night-walk takes place. And indeed it may form an interesting analogy to that satiety of the voluptuary, “Childe Harold,”