This singular aberration from our natural habits may be considered an intermediate state between sleeping and being awake. This infraction of physiologic laws may therefore be looked upon as a morbid condition. Physicians have given it various denominations, founded on its phenomena, nocti-vagatio, nocti-surgium, noct-ambulatio, somnus vigilans, vigilia somnans. Somnambulism was well known by the ancients; and Aristotle tells us, “there are individuals who rise in their sleep, and walk about seeing as clearly as those that are awake.”

Diogenes Laertius states that Theon the philosopher, was a sleep-walker. Galen slept whilst on a road, and pursued his journey until he was awakened by tripping on a stone. Felix Plater fell asleep while playing on the lute, and was only startled from his slumbers by the fall of the instrument. There is no doubt but that in somnambulists the intellectual functions are not only active, but frequently more developed than when the individual is awake. Persons in this state have been known to write and correct verses, and solve difficult problems, which they could not have done at other times. In their actions and locomotion they are more cautious, and frequently more dexterous, than when awake. They have been known to saddle and bridle horses, after having dressed themselves; put on boots and spurs, and afterwards ride considerable distances from home and back again. A sleep-walker wandering abroad in winter complained of being frozen, and asked for a glass of brandy, but expressed violent anger on being offered a glass of water. The celebrated sect of Tremblers, in the Cevennes mountains, used to rove about in their sleep, and, although badly acquainted with the French language, expressed themselves clearly and put up prayers in that tongue, instead of the Latin Pater and Credo which they had been taught. A singular phenomenon in some cases of this affection is that of walking about without groping, whether the eyelids are closed or open. Somnambulism has been known to be hereditary: Horstius mentions three brothers who were affected with it at the same period; Willis knew a whole family subject to it. It is not generally known that the subject of the French dramatic piece called “La Somnambule” was founded on fact.

Singular faculties have been developed in the mental condition. Thus a case is related of a woman in the Edinburgh infirmary, who during her paroxysm not only mimicked the manner of the attendant physicians, but repeated correctly some of their prescriptions in Latin.

Dr. Dyce, of Aberdeen, describes the case of a girl, in which this affection began with fits of somnolency, which came upon her suddenly during the day, and from which she could at first be roused by shaking or by being taken into the open air. During these attacks she was in the habit of talking of things that seemed to pass before her like a dream, and was not at the time sensible of any thing that was said to her. On one occasion she repeated the entire of the baptismal service of the Church of England, and concluded with an extemporary prayer. In her subsequent paroxysms she began to understand what was said to her, and to answer with a considerable degree of consistency, though these replies were in a certain measure influenced by her hallucination. She also became capable of following her usual employment during the paroxysm. At one time she would lay out the table for breakfast, and repeatedly dress herself and the children, her eyes remaining shut the whole time. The remarkable circumstance was now discovered, that, during the paroxysm, she had a distinct recollection of what had taken place in former attacks, though she had not the slightest recollection of it during the intervals. She was taken to church during the paroxysm, and attended the service with apparent devotion, and at one time was so affected by the sermon that she actually shed tears; yet in the interval she had no recollection whatever of the circumstance, but in the following paroxysm she gave a most distinct account of it, and actually repeated the passage of the sermon that had so much affected her. This sort of somnambulism, relating distinctly to two periods, has been called, perhaps erroneously, a state of double consciousness.

This girl described the paroxysm as coming on with a dimness of sight and a noise in the head. During the attack, her eyelids were generally half shut, and frequently resembled those of a person labouring under amaurosis, the pupil dilated and insensible. Her looks were dull and vacant, and she often mistook the person who was speaking to her. The paroxysms usually lasted an hour, but she often could be roused from them. She then yawned and stretched herself like a person awakening from sleep, and instantly recognised those about her. At one time Dr. Dyce affirms, she read distinctly a portion of a book presented to her, and she would frequently sing pieces of music more correctly and with better taste than when awake.

In illustration of the phenomena of the preceding case, Dr. Abercrombie gives the following very curious history: “A girl, aged seven years, an orphan of the lowest rank, residing in the house of a farmer, by whom she was employed in tending cattle, was accustomed to sleep in an apartment separated by a very thin partition from one which was frequently occupied by an itinerant fiddler. This person was a musician of very considerable skill, and often spent a part of the night in performing pieces of a refined description; but his performance was not taken notice of by the child, except as a disagreeable noise. After a residence of six months in this family she fell into bad health, and was removed to the house of a benevolent lady, where, on her recovery after a protracted illness, she was employed as a servant. Some years after she came to reside with this lady, the most beautiful music was often heard in the house during the night, which excited no small interest and wonder in the family; and many a waking hour was spent in endeavours to discover the invisible minstrel. At length the sound was traced to the sleeping-room of the girl, who was found fast asleep, but uttering from her lips a sound exactly resembling the sweetest tones of a small violin. On further observation it was found, that after being about two hours in bed, she became restless and began to mutter to herself; she then uttered sounds precisely resembling the tuning of a violin, and at length, after some prelude, dashed off into an elaborate piece of music, which she performed in a clear and accurate manner, and with a sound exactly resembling the most delicate modulation of the instrument, and then began exactly where she had stopped in the most correct manner. These paroxysms occurred at irregular intervals, varying from one to fourteen and even twenty nights; and they were generally followed by a degree of fever and pain over various parts of the body.

“After a year or two, her music was not confined to the imitation of the violin, but was often exchanged for that of a piano, of a very old description, which she was accustomed to hear in the house in which she now lived, and then she would begin to sing, imitating exactly the voices of several ladies of the family.

“In another year from this time she began to talk a great deal in her sleep, in which she fancied herself instructing a young companion. She often descanted with the utmost fluency and correctness on a variety of subjects, both political and religious, the men of the day, the historical parts of Scripture, public characters, and particularly the character of the members of the family and their visiters. In these discussions she showed the most wonderful discrimination, often combined with sarcasm, and astonishing powers of mimickry. Her language through the whole was fluent and correct, and her illustrations often forcible and even eloquent. She was fond of illustrating her subjects by what she called a fable, and in these, her imagery was both appropriate and correct. The justice and truth of her remarks on all subjects, excited the utmost astonishment in those who were acquainted with her limited means of acquiring information.

“She had been known to conjugate correctly Latin verbs, which she had probably heard in the school room of the family, and she was once heard to speak several sentences very correctly in French, at the same time stating that she had heard them from a foreign gentleman whom she had met accidentally in a shop. Being questioned on this subject when awake, she remembered having seen the gentleman, but could not repeat a word of what he had said.

“During her paroxysms it was almost impossible to awake her, and when her eyelids were raised and a candle brought near the eye, the pupil seemed insensible to the light. For several years she was, during the paroxysm, entirely unconscious of the presence of other persons, but about the age of sixteen, she began to observe those who were in the apartment, and she could tell correctly their number though the utmost care was taken to have the room darkened. She now also became capable of answering questions that were put to her, and of noticing remarks made in her presence, and, with regard to both, she showed astonishing acuteness. Her observations indeed were often of such a nature, and corresponded so accurately with character and events, that, by the country people, she was believed to be endowed with supernatural power.

“During the whole period of this remarkable affection, which seems to have gone on for at least ten or eleven years, she was, when awake, a dull awkward girl, very slow in receiving any kind of instruction, though much care was bestowed upon her; and in point of intellect, she was much inferior to the other servants of the family. In particular, she showed no kind of turn for music. She did not appear to have any recollection of what passed in her sleep; but during her nocturnal ramblings, she was more than once heard to lament her infirmity of speaking in her sleep, adding how fortunate it was she did not sleep among the other servants, as they teased her enough about it as it was.

“About the age of twenty-one she became immoral in her conduct, and was dismissed the family. Her propensity to talk in her sleep continued to the time of her dismissal, but a great change had taken place in her nocturnal conversation. It had gradually lost its acuteness and brilliancy, and latterly became the mere babbling of a vulgar mind, often mingled with insolent remarks against her superiors, and the most profane scoffing at morality and religion. It is believed that she afterwards became insane.”

To what serious reflections does not this curious history give rise. Here there did unquestionably exist a double existence. The one a relative being surrounded with the realities of life; the other a natural condition, unshackled by constraint, and left entirely to the wild enjoyment of a luxuriant fancy and an apprehension quick and brilliant. In the former, the young creature found herself derided and degraded by her vulgar companions; her generous infirmities, if such they may be called, made the subject of low ribaldy. In her second existence, she became the free child of nature.

Might not proper care have saved this interesting creature from misery! It is admitted that “much care had been bestowed upon her instruction,” but was she withdrawn from the low circle that surrounded her and placed in a society where, in her waking hours, she could have derived those advantages of a superior intercourse, which might have worked upon her vivid imagination as powerfully as the melodious sounds she had heard at other times? “She became immoral—scoffed at religion”—in her sleep. She was then in a state of nature; unconscious, to a certain extent, of immorality and religion, although conscious, no doubt, of relative good and evil. Is it not more than probable that when awake, not only were her ears assailed by profane and improper language, but is it not most likely that her ruin was perpetrated during her visionary slumbers, and ever after visited her mind during her paroxysms? Nor is it improbable that her affections had been bestowed upon her despoiler. Instead of being dismissed and cast upon the wide world, helpless, stigmatized, perhaps, with the odious epithet of witch—for we have seen that the lower order considered her such—might not a friendly hand have secured her in an abode where she might have been invited to COME and sin no more! Alas! no wonder that the poor creature should have become insane! It is said that she was obtuse in intellect when awake. May not this be accounted for in some measure, by the exhaustion of her mental faculties during her paroxysms? It is to be lamented that the learned and philosophic Dr. Abercrombie, who has given this history, did not comment upon it. True Christianity and its benevolence breath in every line of the eloquent writer, and the poor Scotch lassie might have afforded him a valuable theme. How proud would any humane person have felt in making this interesting object of pity what she might have been!

Dr. Dewar also relates the case of an ignorant servant-girl, who, during the paroxysm of somnambulism, showed an astonishing knowledge of geography and astronomy, and expressed herself, in her own language, in a manner which, though often ludicrous, showed an understanding of the subject. The alteration of the seasons, for example, she explained by saying the world was set a gee.

In many cases of somnambulism the sleeper is able to continue the occupation that he had previously carried on. Martinet mentions a watchmaker’s apprentice, whose paroxysm came on once in the fortnight, and commenced in a sensation of heat ascending to the heart. This was followed by a confusion of thought and insensibility. His eyes were open, but fixed and vacant, and he was totally insensible to every thing around him. Yet he continued his usual employment, and was always much surprised when he awoke to find the progress that had taken place in his work. This case ended in epilepsy.

Horstius, whom we have already quoted, tells us of a noble youth of Breslau, living in the citadel, who used to steal out of a window during his sleep, muffled up in his cloak, and ascend the roof of the building, where one night he tore in pieces a magpie’s nest, wrapped up the little ones in his cloak, and returned to bed. The following morning he mentioned the circumstance as having occurred in a dream, but could not be persuaded of the reality of the circumstance till the magpies in the cloak were shown to him.

Dr. Abercrombie has given a very remarkable case of a young woman of low rank, who, at the age of 19, became insane, but was gentle, and applied herself eagerly to various occupations. Before her insanity she had been only learning to read and to form a few letters; but during her lunacy she taught herself to write perfectly, though all attempts of others had failed; she had intervals of reason, which frequently continued three weeks and sometimes longer. During these she could neither read nor write, but immediately on the return of her insanity, she recovered the power of writing and reading.

The faculty of conversing in a state of somnambulism is too well authenticated to be doubted, although in many instances it may have been a fraudulent trick of animal magnetism. This singular power has been recorded by several of the ancient writers, many of whom pretended that divine inspiration illumined the sleepers. Cicero tells us that when the LacedÆmonian magistrates were embarrassed in their administration, they went to sleep in the temple of Pasiphae, thus named from Pasi phainein, or “communicative to all.” Strabo mentions a cavern, sacred to Pluto and Juno, where the sick came to consult sleeping priests. Aristides is said to have delivered his opinion while fast asleep in the temple of Æsculapius. It would be endless to quote all the authorities on this subject. Modern magnetisers, however, outstrip the ancients in the wonders they relate in regard to somnambulent faculties developed by magnetism. In 1829, Cloquet, a very distinguished Parisian surgeon, assisted by Dr. Chapelain, removed the cancerous breast of a lady in her magnetic sleep, during which she continued her conversation, unconscious of the operation, which lasted twelve minutes.The faculty of seeing through the closed eyelids was fully substantiated in the presence of a commission of investigation appointed by the Academy of Medicine of Paris, and in the presence of fifteen persons. They found a somnambulist, of the name of Paul, to all appearance fast asleep. On being requested to rise and approach the window, he complied immediately. His eyes were then covered in such a manner as not to awaken him, and a pack of cards having been shuffled by several persons, he recognised them without the slightest hesitation. Watches were then shown him, and he named the hour and minute, though the hands were repeatedly altered. A book was then presented to him,—it happened to be a collection of operas,—and he read Cantor et Pollux instead of Castor et Pollux, TragÉdie Lyrique: a volume of Horace was then submitted to him, but not knowing Latin, he returned it, saying, “This is some church-book.” The celebrated Dr. Broussais laid before the same somnambulist a letter he had drawn from his pocket; to his utter surprise he read the first lines: the doctor then wrote a few words on a piece of paper in very small characters, which the somnambulist also read with the utmost facility; but, what was still more singular, when letters or books were applied to his breast, or between the shoulders, he also perused them with equal accuracy and ease. In one instance the queen of clubs was presented to his back; after a moment’s hesitation he said, “This a club—the nine;” he was informed that he was in error, when he recovered himself and said, “No, ’tis the queen:” a ten of spades was then applied, when he hastily exclaimed, “At any rate this is not a court-card; it is—the ten of spades.”

The many astute tricks played by animal magnetisers, and frequently detected, naturally induced most persons to doubt the veracity of these experiments; but when we find that they were witnessed by seventy-eight medical men, most of them decidedly hostile to magnetism, and sixty-three intelligent individuals not belonging to the profession, and in every respect disinterested, what are we to say?—perhaps, exclaim with Hamlet,

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy!

I cannot better conclude this article than by the following quotation from Dr. Pritchard’s valuable work:[8] “There is an obvious relation between the state of the faculties in somnambulism and that which exists during dreams. It is indeed probable that somnambulism is dreaming in a manner so modified, that the will recovers its usual power over muscular motion, and likewise becomes endued with a peculiar control over the organs of sense and perception. This power, which gives rise to the most curious phenomena of somnambulism, is of such a kind, that, while the senses are in general obscured, as in sleep, and all other objects are unperceived, the somnambulator manifests a faculty of seeing, feeling, or otherwise discovering those particular objects of which he is in pursuit, towards which his attention is by inward movement directed, or with which the internal operations of his mind bring him into relation. As in dreams, so likewise in somnambulism the individual is intent on the pursuit of objects towards which his mind had been previously directed in a powerful manner, and his attention strongly roused; he is in both states impelled by habit, under the influence of which he repeats the routine of his daily observances. A somnambulator is a dreamer who is able to act his dreams.”