The time has now arrived for expounding the phenomena of Trance; an acquaintance with which is necessary to enable you to understand the source and nature of the delusions with which I have yet to deal.

You have already had glimpses of this condition. Arnod Paole was in a trance in the cemetery of Meduegna—Timarchus was in a trance in the cave of Trophonius.

Let me begin by developing certain preliminary conceptions relating to the subject.

I. Common observation, the spontaneous course of our reflections, our instinctive interpretation of nature, reveal to us matter, motion, and intelligence, as the co-existing phenomena of the universe. In the farthest distances of space cognisable to our senses, we discern matter and motion, and their subordination to intelligence. Upon the earth’s surface we discern, in the finely designed mechanism of each plant, the agency of life; and we recognise in the microcosm of each animal a living organization, fitted to be the recipient of individual consciousness, or of personal being.

II. The intelligence which is communicated to living beings becomes, to a great extent, dependent upon the organization with which it is combined. Thus every mental faculty is found to have its definite seat and habitat in the bodily frame. The principal successes of modern physiologists have been achieved in determining with what precise parts of the nervous system each affection of consciousness is functionally associated. Different classes of nerves are found to be appropriated to sensation and volition; different parts of the spinal cord are proved to minister to different offices; and of the subdivisions of the brain, each is thought to correspond with a separate faculty, or sentiment, or appetite. So far the mental forces, or operations of a living human being, may be conceived to be essentially esoneural, (es? ?e????.) Each appears to have its proper and special workshop or laboratory in the nervous system.

III. But there are not wanting facts which make it reasonable to think that our mental forces or operations transcend occasionally and partially the limits of our corporeal frame. The phenomena adverted to in the preceding letter, in connexion with the narrative of Zschokke’s seer-gift, hardly seem to admit of explanation on any other supposition. Nor is it a very improbable conjecture, that phenomena of the same class form, as it were, the complements of many ordinary esoneural operations. Possibly in common perception the mind directly reaches the object perceived, being excited thereto by the antecedent material impressions on our organs, and the sensations which follow. To denote mental phenomena of the kind I am supposing, I propose the term exoneural, (e?? ?e????.) I venture even, following out this idea, to conjecture further, that the Od force may somehow furnish the dynamic bridge along which our exoneural apprehension travels.

IV. The affections of consciousness would thus be in part esoneural, in part exoneural, during the healthy and normal state of our being; the esoneural part being executed in immediate connexion with its appropriate organ, and every manifestation of it being attended with a physical change in the latter.

V. But it is conceivable, on the assumption of mind being a separate principle from matter, that the human soul may be capable of retaining its union with the body in a new, unusual, and abnormal relation. The hypothesis is startling enough. I adopt it only from seeing no other way of accounting for certain facts which, with the evidence of their reality, will presently be brought forward. I venture to suppose that the mind of a living man may energize abnormally in two ways: first, that a much larger share of its operations may be conducted exoneurally—that is, out of the body—than usual; secondly, that the esoneural mental functions may be conducted within the body in unaccustomed organs, deserting those naturally appropriated to them. Two or three instances have been already given, which favour, at all events, the supposition of the possibility of such an abnormal relation between the mind and the body being realized. But in most of the instances hitherto adverted to, the normal relation may be supposed to have remained.

VI. Thus all the ordinary phenomena of sensorial illusions at once are esoneural, and suppose the persistence of the normal relation of mind and body. The material organ to which the physical agencies preceding sensation are propagated being irritated, is to be supposed to excite in the mind sensuous recollections or fancies that are so vivid as to appear realities.

VII. In mental delusions, again, there is no reason for surmising the intervention of the abnormal relation. But what are mental delusions? They are a part of insanity. And what is insanity? I will summarily state its features; for some of the instances which remain for explanation are referrible to it, and because I delight to crush a volume into a paragraph.

The phenomena of insanity may be arranged under five heads: The first, the insane temperament; the next three the fundamental forms of mental derangement; the fifth, the paroxysmal state. The features of the insane temperament are various; some of them are incompatible with the simultaneous presence of others. When a group of them is present, as a change in natural character, without insanity, insanity is threatened: no form of insanity manifests itself without the presence of some of them. The features of the insane temperament are these: The patient withdraws his sympathies from those around him, is shy, reserved, cunning, suspicious, with a troubled air, as if he felt something to be wrong, and wonders if you see it; he is capricious, and has flaws of temper; being talkative, he is flighty and extravagant; he is hurried in his thoughts, and mode of speaking, and gestures; he has fits of absence, in which he talks aloud to himself; he is restless, and anxious for change of place. Of the elementary forms of insanity, one consists in the entertainment of mental delusions: the patient imagines himself the Deity, or a prophet, or a monarch, or that he has become enormously wealthy; or that he is possessed by the devil, or is persecuted by invisible beings, or is dead, or very poor, or that he is the victim of public or private injustice. The second form is moral perversion: the patient is depressed in spirits without a cause, perhaps to the extent of meditating suicide; or he feels an unaccountable desire to take the lives of others; or he is impelled to steal, or to do gratuitous mischief; or he is a sot; or he has fits of ungovernable and dangerous rage. The third form exhibits itself in loss of connexion of ideas, failure of memory, loss of common intelligence, disregard of the common decencies of life. Each of these three elementary forms is sometimes met with alone; generally two are combined. Sensorial illusions are common in insanity; auditory, unaccompanied by visual illusions, are almost peculiar to it, and to the cognate affection of delirium from fever or inflammation of the brain. To the head of the paroxysmal state belongs the history of exacerbations of insanity, of their sudden outbursts in persons of the insane temperament, of their preferential connexion with this or that antecedent condition of the patient, of their occasional periodicity.

VII. In congenital idiotcy and imbecility, the relation of the mind and brain is normal. Often the defective organization is apparent through which the intelligence is repressed. In many countries a popular belief prevails that the imbecile have occasional glimpses of higher knowledge. There is no reason evident why their minds should not be susceptible of the abnormal relation.

VIII. In sleep, the mind and brain are in the normal relation. But what is sleep, psychically considered?

It is best to begin by looking into the mental constituents of waking. There is then passing before us an endless current of images and reflections, furnished from our recollections, and suggested by our hopes and our fears, by pursuits that interest us, or by their own inter-associations. This current of thought is continually being changed or modified, through impressions made upon our senses. It is further liable to be still more importantly and systematically modified by the exercise of the faculty of Attention. The attention operates in a twofold manner. It enables us to detain at pleasure any subject of thought before the mind; and, when not on such urgent duty, it vigilantly inspects every idea which presents itself, and reports if it be palpably unsound or of questionable tendency. To speak with more precision, it is a power we have of controlling our thoughts, which we drill to warn us whenever the suggested ideas conflict with our experience or our principles.

Then of sleep. We catch glimpses of its nature at the moments of falling asleep and of waking. When it is the usual time for sleep, if our attention happen to be livelily excited, it is in vain we court sleep. When we are striving to contend against the sense of overwhelming fatigue, what we feel is, that we can no longer command our attention. Then we are lost, or are asleep. Then the head and body drop forwards; we have ceased to attend to the maintenance of our equilibrium. Any iteration of gentle, impressions, enough to divert attention from other objects, without arousing it, promotes sleep.

Thus we recognise as the psychical basis of sleep the suspension of the attention.

Are any other mental faculties suspended in sleep? Sensation and the influence of the will over the muscular system are not; for our dreams are liable to be shaped by what we hear. The sleeper, without waking, will turn his head away from a bright light, will withdraw his arm if you pinch it, will utter loud words which he dreams he is employing. The seeming insensibility in sleep, the apparent suspension of the influence of the will, are simply consequences of the suspension of attention.

I have, on another occasion, shown that the organs in which sensations are realized, and volition energizes, are the segments of the cranio-spinal cord in which the sentient and voluntary nerves are rooted. I think I see now that the seat of the attention is the “medulla oblongata.” For—alas for the imperfect conceptions into which the imperfection of language as an instrument of thought forces us!—what is the faculty of attention, which we have been considering almost as a separate element of mind, but the individual “ich” energizing, now keenly noticing impressions and thoughts, now allowing them to pass, while it looks on with lazy indifference; now, at length, worn out and exhausted, and incapable of further work? But this inspecting and contrasting operation, where should it more naturally find its bureau than at a point situated between the organs of the understanding and those of the will?—that is to say, somewhere at the junction of the spinal marrow and the brain. Well, Magendie ascertained that just at that region there is a small portion of nervous matter, pressure upon which causes immediately heavy sleep or stupor, while its destruction—for instance, the laceration of the little organ with the point of a needle—instantaneously and irrevocably extinguishes life.4 This precious link in our system is, reasonably enough, stowed away in the securest part of our frame—that is to say, within the head, upon the strong central bone of the base of the skull. How came the fancy of Shakspeare by the happy figure which seems to adumbrate Magendie’s discovery of to-day, in poetry written three hundred years ago?

To return to our argument, Are the sentiments and higher faculties of the mind suspended during sleep? Certainly not, if dreaming be a part of natural sleep, as I hold it to be. For there are some who dream always; others, who say they seldom dream; others, who disavow dreaming at all. But the simplest view of these three cases is to suppose that in sleep all persons always dream, but that all do not remember their dreams. This imputed forgetfulness is not surprising, considering the importance of the attention to memory, and that in sleep the attention is suspended. Ordinary dreams present one remarkable feature; nothing in them appears wonderful. We meet and converse with friends long dead; the improbability of the event never crosses our minds. One sees a horse galloping by, and calls after it as one’s friend—Mr. so-and-so. We fly with agreeable facility, and explain to an admiring circle how we manage it. Every absurdity passes unchallenged. The attention is off duty. It is important to remark that there is nothing in common dreams to interfere with the purpose of sleep, which is repose. The cares and interests of our waking life never recur to us; or, if they do, are not recognised as our own. The faculties are not really energizing; their seeming exercise is sport; they are unharnessed, and are gambolling and rolling in idle relaxation. That is their refreshment.

The attention alone slumbers; or, through some slight organic change, it is unlinked from the other faculties, and they are put out of gear. This is the basis of sleep. The faculties are all in their places; but the attention is off duty; itself asleep, or indolently keeping watch of time alone.

In contrast with this picture of the sleeping and waking states, of the alternation of which our mental life consists, I have now to hold up to view another conception, resembling it, but different, vague, imposing, of gigantic proportions, the monstrous double of the first—like the mocking spectre of the Hartz, which yet is but your own shadow cast by the level sunbeams on the morning mist.

To answer to this conception, there is more than the ideal entity made up of the different forms of trance. For although trance may occur as a single sleep-like fit of moderate duration, yet it more frequently recurs—often periodically, dividing the night or day with common sleep or common waking; or it may be persistent for days and weeks—in which case, if it generally maintain one character, it is yet liable to have wakings of its own.

Then the first division of trance is into trance-sleep and trance-waking. In extreme cases it is easy to tell trance-sleep from common sleep, trance-waking from common waking; but there are varieties with less prominent features, in which it is difficult, at first, to say whether the patient is entranced at all.

There is, upon the whole, more alliance between sleep and trance, than between waking and trance. Or, in a large class of cases, the patient falls into trance when asleep. It is a cognate phenomenon to this that the common initiatory stage of trance is a trance-sleep.

Trance is of more frequent occurrence among the young than among the middle-aged or old people. It occurs more frequently among young women than among young men. In other words, the liability to trance is in proportion to delicacy of organization, and higher nervous susceptibility.

But what is trance? The question will be best answered by exhibiting its several phases. In the mean time, it may be laid down that the basis of trance is the supervention of the abnormal relation of the mind and nervous system. In almost all its forms it is easy to show that some of the mental functions are no longer located in their pristine organs. The most ordinary change is the departure of common sensation from the organ of touch. Next, sight leaves the organs of vision. To make up for these desertions, if the patient wake in trance, either the same senses reappear elsewhere, or some unaccountable mode of general perception manifests itself.

A strict alliance exists between trance and the whole family of spasms. Most of them are exclusively developed in connexion with it; all are liable to be combined with it; they are all capable of being excited by the same influences which produce trance; so they often occur vicariously, or alternate with trance. One kind is catalepsy; the body motionless, statue-like, but the tone of spasm maintained low, so that you may arrange the statue in what attitude you will, and it preserves it. A second is catochus, like the preceding, but with a higher power of spasm, so that the joints are rigidly fixed; and if you overcome one for a moment with superior strength, being let go, it flies back to where it was. A third, partial spasm of equal rigidity, arching the body forwards or backwards or laterally, or fixing one limb or more. The fourth, clonic spasm, for instance, the contortions and convulsive struggles of epilepsy. The fifth, an impulse to rapid and varied muscular actions, nearly equalling convulsions in violence, but combined so as to travesty ordinary voluntary motion; this is the dance of St. Veitz, which took its name from an epidemic outbreak in Germany in the thirteenth century, that was supposed to be cured by the interposition of the saint; then persons of all classes were seized in groups in public with a fury of kicking, shuffling, dancing together, till they dropt. Now, the same agency is manifested either in a violent rush, and disposition to climb with inconceivable agility and precision; or alternately to twist the features, roll the neck, and jerk and swing the limbs even to the extent of dislocating them.

The causes of trance are mostly mental. Trance appears to be contagious. Viewed medically, it is seldom directly dangerous. It is a product of over-excitability, which time blunts. The disposition to trance is seldom manifested beyond a few months, or, at most, two or three years. For epilepsy is not a form of trance; it is, however, a mixed mental and spasmodic seizure, much allied to trance. Those who suffer from its attacks are found to be among the most susceptible of induced trance.

But let me again ask, what then is trance?

Trance is a peculiar mental seizure, (totally distinct from insanity, with which again, however, it may be combined,) the patient taken with which appears profoundly absorbed or rapt, and as if lost more or less completely to surrounding objects or impressions, or at all events to the ordinary mode of perceiving them; he is likewise more or less entirely lost to his former recollections. The mental seizures may or may not occur simultaneously or alternately with spasmodic seizures of any and every character.

This definition of trance conveys, I am afraid, no very exact or distinct picture; but it is the definition of a genus, and a genus is necessarily an abstraction. However, it gives the features essential to all the forms of trance. A true general notion of trance can, indeed, only be realized by studying in detail each of the forms it includes. These are separated by the broadest colours. In the one extreme an entranced person appears dead, and no sign of life is recognisable in him; in the opposite, he appears to be much as usual, and perfectly impressible by any thing around him, so that it demands careful observation to establish that he is not simply awake.

Then trance presents no fewer than five specific forms, distinguished each from the other by clear characters, their essential identity being established by each at times passing into either of the others. The terms by which I propose to designate the five primary forms of trance are—Death-trance, Trance-coma, Initiatory Trance, Half-waking-trance, Waking-trance. The five, however, admit, as I have before said, of being arranged in two groups: the first three forms enumerated constituting varieties of trance-sleep; the two latter constituting varieties of waking-trance. The next letter will treat of the first group; the two following will treat of the two varieties of the second.

I have observed that the causes of trance are for the most part mental impressions; but it will be found that certain physical influences may produce the same results. The causes of trance, whether mental or physical, deserve again to be regarded in three lights. Either they have operated blindly and fortuitously, or they have been resorted to and used as agents to produce some vague and imperfectly understood result, or they have been skilfully and intelligently directed to bring out the exact phenomena which have followed. It is with trance supervening in the two former ways that I alone propose at present to deal; that is to say, with trance as it was imperfectly known as an agent in superstition, or as a rare and marvellous form of nervous disease. Of the third case of trance, as it may be artificially induced, I shall afterwards and finally speak.