tion ready for my sufferings, of which I can only say that it had something to do with the navy, that it was sheer undiluted nonsense, had neither end nor beginning, and was insusceptible of being expressed in words. Myself knew this; yet I gave way, and my watcher was favored with some reference to the navy. Nor only that: the other fellow was annoyed—or I was annoyed—on two inconsistent accounts; first, because he had failed to make his meaning comprehensible, and, second, because the nurse displayed no interest. The other fellow would have liked to explain further, but myself was much hurt at having been got into this false position, and would be led no further."
Now, when such a disordinated system obtains complete control of the body, the patient is wholly insane. Not, of course, that every case of insanity belongs to this type, but that every case of this type belongs to insanity. The normal consciousness is then supposed to be wholly extinct, but there is no reason for believing that it necessarily must be. Take for example a case observed by the late Dr. Ira Barrows, of Providence, R. I., and printed by Prof. James.[1] The patient was a girl of nineteen. I make only a few extracts from Dr. Barrows's notes.
"September 17, 1860.—Wild with delirium. Tears her hair, pillowcases, bedclothes, both sheets, night dress, all to pieces. Her right hand prevents her left hand, by seizing and holding it, from tearing out her hair, but she tears her clothes with her left hand and teeth.
"29th.—Complains of great pain in right arm, more and more intense, when suddenly it falls down by her side. She looks at it in amazement. Thinks it belongs to some one else; is positive it is not hers. . . . She bites it, pounds it, pricks it, and in many ways seeks to drive it from her. She calls it 'Stump, old Stump!'
"January 10, 1862.—When her delirium is at its height, as well as at all other times, her right hand is rational, asking and answering questions in writing; giving directions; trying to prevent her tearing her clothes; when she pulls out her hair, it seizes and holds her left hand; when she is asleep, it carries on conversation the same; writes poetry; never sleeps; acts the part of the nurse as far as it can; pulls the bedclothes over the patient, if it can reach them, while uncovered; raps on the headboard to awaken her mother (who always sleeps in the room) if anything occurs, as spasms, etc."
"Old Stump" made no statements, so far as the account goes, about its own identity. It always spoke of the patient in the third person as "Anna," but that is common in changes of personality.
- ↑ Proceedings of the American Society for Psychical Research, vol. i, p. 552.
