MARY REYNOLDS: 
A CASE OF DOUBLE CONSCIOUSNESS. 
BY 
S. WEIR MITCHELL, M.D. 
REPRINT FROM TRANSACTIONS. MARY REYNOLDS: 
A CASE OF DOUBLE CONSCIOUSNESS. 
BY 
S. WEIR MITCHELL, M.D. 
REPRINTED FROM THE 
TRANSACTIONS OF THE COLLEGE OF PHYSICIANS OF PHILADELPHIA, 
APRIL 4, 1888. 
PHILADELPHIA: 
WM. J. DORNAN, PRINTER. 
1889. MARY REYNOLDS : 
A CASE OF DOUBLE CONSCIOUSNESS. 
By 
S. WEIR MITCHELL, M.D. 
[Read April 4, 1888.] 
The following account of a case of double conscious- 
ness, so called, I have given with as large preservation 
as possible of the quaintness of statement existing in 
some of the original papers from which it has been com- 
piled. My attention was first drawn to it by a MS. found 
among the papers of my father, the late Prof. John Iv. 
Mitchell. To students of psychology, at least, I make 
no apology for the minuteness and consequent length of 
my narrative. 
The account just alluded to was written by Mr. John 
Y. Reynolds, when a student in the Princeton Theo- 
logical Seminary, during the winter of 1835-6, and was 
given to Prof. Archibald Alexander, who was much 
interested in the case, and from whom in turn it came 
to Prof. Mitchell. 
The same Mr. Reynolds, a nephew of the lady whose 
history he gave, also prepared an account of the case for 
the Rev. Dr. William S. Plnmer, of Allegheny, who pub- 
lished it in Harper’s Monthly Magazine, in May, 1860. 2 
MITCHELL, 
Major Andrew Ellicott, an uncle of the lady and pro- 
fessor of mathematics in the United States Military 
Academy at West Point, first reported the case to the 
Academy of Sciences at Paris, where it excited interest. 
He also related it to Dr. S. L. Mitchill, of Yew York, 
who printed a very short account of it in the New York 
Medical Repository for 1816, and promised its readers a 
fuller account from the Rev. Timothy Alden. Dr. 
Alden’s letter never appeared in the Repository, but 
amongst other marvels, is to he found in Sherman Day’s 
Historical Collections of Pennsylvania, printed in 1843. 
Finally, through the kindness of Rev. Dr. John Y. 
Reynolds and his brother Williatn, who are still living 
in Meadville, where their aunt spent with them the last 
twenty-five years of her life, I am able to corroborate 
facts and from these various sources to supply the fol- 
lowing account of these two persons in one body—two 
distinct lives antipodal from every mental and moral 
point of view. 
Mary Reynolds was born in England in 1798, and, when 
four years old, with her father and mother and their family 
left their home in Birmingham to settle in Pennsylvania. 
Leaving in New York the remainder of the family, the father 
and son started out into the wilderness and choose a spot on the 
banks of Oil Creek, in Venango County. The whole surround- 
ing country was an unbroken forest. Twelve miles southward 
were the few inhabitants of Franklin, while six miles to the 
north lived Jonathan Titus, the proprietor of the land on which 
Titusville now stands. 
In this remote spot William Reynolds and his young son 
built a log-cabin, in which the father left the lad while he 
returned to New York to bring the remainder of the family to 
their new home. For four months the boy remained alone in A CASE OF DOUBLE CONSCIOUSNESS, 
3 
the cabin, rarely seeing the face of a white man, but being 
frequently visited by Indians. In due time the Reynolds 
family arrived, and with them the daughter Mary. 
Her childhood and youth appear to have been marked by 
no extraordinary incidents. She is said1 to have “ possessed 
an excellent capacity, and to have enjoyed fair opportunities to 
acquire knowledge. Besides the domestic arts and social 
attainments, she had improved her mind by reading and con- 
versation. Her memory was capacious and well stocked with 
ideas.” Though in no respect brilliant, she was thoughtful, 
and seems to have been endowed with an uncommonly good 
physical organization. 
Her natural disposition tended to melancholy. Her spirits 
were low. She never gave herself to mirth, but was sedate 
and reserved; she had no relish for company, but avoided it; 
was very fond of reading what few books were to be had. 
She loved to retire to some secluded place where, free from 
interruption, she read and meditated upon her Bible, and 
where she was apt to give herself up to prayer and devotional 
exercises. 
When about eighteen years of age she is said to have become 
subject to occasional attacks of “fits;” these were certainly 
hysterical, but of their precise characteristics no account is 
given. However, on a Sunday in the spring of 1811, she had 
an attack of unusual severity. It occurred while she was in a 
secluded place reading and engaged in her devotions. Owing 
to her protracted absence, her friends became alarmed, and after 
a long search found her in a state of insensibility and in con- 
vulsions. The restoratives applied were not very successful. 
When she recovered consciousness (probably on this same 
day) she was found to be both blind and deaf,2 and continued 
in this state for live or six weeks. The sense of hearing re- 
1 Major Ellicott’s account, New York Repository, 1816. 
2 See William S. Planner's statement, Harper’s Monthly Magazine, May, 
1860; also Timothy Alden’s letter, loc. cit. No mention is made of this in the 
Alexander MS. 4 
MITCHELL, 
turned suddenly; that of sight more gradually, but in the end 
entirely. 
About three months after this attack, when she had appar- 
ently nearly recovered her usual health, though still somewhat 
feeble, she was found one morning, long after her habitual time 
for rising, in a profound sleep from which it was impossible to 
arouse her. After eighteen or twenty hours of sleeping she 
awakened, but in a state of unnatural consciousness. Memory 
had fled. To all intents and purposes she was as a being for 
the first time ushered into the world. “All of the past that 
remained to her was the faculty of pronouncing a few words, 
and this seems to have been as purely instinctive as the wail- 
ings of an infant; for at first the words which she uttered were 
connected with no ideas in her mind.” Until she was taught 
their significance they were unmeaning sounds. 
“ Her eyes were virtually for the first time opened upon the 
world. Old things had passed away; all things had become 
new.” Her parents, brothers, sisters, friends, were not recog- 
nized or acknowledged as such by her. She had never seen 
them before,—never known them,—was not aware that such 
persons had been. Now for the first time she was introduced 
to their company and acquaintance. To the scenes by which 
she wTas surrounded she was a perfect stranger. The house, 
the fields, the forest, the hills, the vales, the streams,—all were 
novelties. The beauties of the landscape were all unexplored. 
She had not the slightest consciousness that she had ever 
existed previous to the moment in which she awoke from that 
mysterious slumber. “In a word, she was an infant, just 
born, yet born in a state of maturity with a capacity for relish- 
ing the rich, sublime, luxuriant Avonders of created nature.” 
The first lesson in her education was to teach her by what 
ties she was bound to those by whom she was surrounded, and 
the duties devolving upon her accordingly. This she was very 
slow to learn, and, “indeed, never did learn, or, at least, never 
would acknowledge the ties of consanguinity, or scarcely those 
of friendship. She considered those she had once known as for 
the most part strangers and enemies, among whom she was, A CASE OF DOUBLE CONSCIOUSNESS. 
5 
by some remarkable and unaccountable means, transplanted, 
though from what region or state of existence was a problem 
unsolved/’ 
The next lesson was to re-teach her the arts of reading and 
writing. She was apt enough, and made such rapid progress 
in both, that in a few weeks she had readily re-learned to read 
and write. In copying her name which her brother had 
written for her as a first lesson, she took her pen in a very 
awkward manner and began to copy from right to left in the 
Hebrew mode, as though she had been transplanted from 
an Eastern soil. 
When we consider the length of time required to teach a 
child these arts, her almost intuitive readiness appears won- 
derful. 
Mr. Reynolds makes some very interesting reflections 
on this loss and restoration of memory. He says: 
“ If I might venture to offer a solution, I would say it might 
be accounted for, from the fact that her mind was maturely 
vigorous. She could talk and reason as though her intellect 
was full grown. Consequently, the discipline required for a 
child was in her case anticipated.. But still, since I have 
written this, it does not satisfy me. Maturity of intellect, 
perhaps, cannot exist without memory. Has she memory ? It 
would seem, not, yet, if she had not, why should she be able to 
talk and reason ? It must be remembered that her intellect 
was in a healthful exercise. And yet, how could this be, when 
she had no memory to build on, no data from which to draw 
conclusions, more than an infant ? If the whole fabric of mind 
had been so completely demolished that no power had shown 
forth from the ruins, such as the ability to talk and reason, it 
would not, in my view, be extraordinary. How could she talk 
and reason without memory ? Why could she talk and reason, 
and yet not write ? If she forgot one, why not the other ? 
Talking is as readily acquired as reading. The destruction of 
memory would account for her forgetting what she did forget, 6 
MITCHELL, 
but it would go too far to prove only what we want. I can 
conceive of memory being destroyed, and the intellect left 
untouched, but I cannot conceive of its being destroyed, and 
yet the faculty of speech remaining. When I say, I can con- 
ceive of the memory being destroyed, and yet the intellect left 
untouched, I mean, I can conceive of reason being vigorously 
exercised, as soon as some data are presented to it from which 
to start, in the same way that I can conceive of reason being 
improved by the study of Euclid, and that improvement 
remaining and progressing after every proposition contained 
in Euclid is forgotten. But in this case, reason appears to be 
exercised without any data. For instance, the moment she 
awoke, she commenced to wonder and reason how she got 
there, and from whence she came. Now an infant would not 
have had any such thoughts, and the moment it was capable 
of understanding, would have believed all that was told it, 
whereas, she would believe nothing. However, I am only 
getting into difficulties and contradictions, as every one must, 
who talks about what he does not understand. So I’ll quit.” 
I leave Mr. R.’s views to speak for themselves. I have 
thought best to quote at length some of these remarks 
and speculations of those familiar with this case. Clearly 
there is some confusion among the witnesses as to her 
use of language, she seems to have regained speech 
rapidly and writing but slowly. 
Miss Reynolds’ handwriting in her second state is described 
as somewhat different from that in her first. Only one example 
of her writing of her first state is extant. That is a letter ad- 
dressed to her brother John, and bears the date of January 13, 
1813. I have had this photographed for preservation, with her 
own manuscript history written about 1839 or 1840. I give 
here specimens of the handwriting in the two states. After 
the interval of twenty-six or twenty-seven years the slight 
differences of the writing are not unnatural. The resem- 
blances between the writings are very visible. A CASE OF DOUBLE CONSCIOUSNESS. 
7 
Jp, id C *7) L sT* < *~C <^~ 
r*t,ty^~,<^*r*~'r 
io //jicl/S 
Specimen of handwriting from letter to brother, January 13, 1813. 
yy^ytyyc/f 
ttyj #'\/1. ~ *-■-.' *y^s < 
1 —<—- e&Z/Cy-y^Z<y^~ 
.y f/tr^ 
Specimen of handwriting from Autobiography, 1839-1840. 
As I consider the difference in handwriting a matter of 
great moment, I enclosed the two specimens to my friend, Dr. 
Persifor Frazer, who is an expert in such matters, without 
telling him anything about them. His opinion, which I here 
append, coincides with my own, and shows how little confi- 
dence should be given to the statement made in regard to the 
dissimilarity in the patient’s writing in the two different states 
of consciousness, « 
Philadelphia, April 26, 1888. 
Dear Doctor : I have made a careful examination of the 
writing in the photographed letter and that in the MS. 
enclosed by you to me, and am of the opinion that the origi- 
nals were both done by one hand. 
This opinion is based upon a comparison of individual 
letters (among which I may cite the capitals M, B, I, S, and 
O; and the small letters y, d, h, p, s, ss, f, and t), and is fortified 8 
MITCHELL, 
by the correspondence between the forms of expression and 
the peculiarities of spelling in both documents, such as “ inde- 
faticable” (letter) and “ indefatticable ” (MS.), etc. 
The probability that the same person wrote both documents 
is very strong. Very sincerely, 
Persifor Frazer. 
In the course of the letter she says: 
“ Since I commenced this letter to my dear brother two 
months have elapsed, but I can give no account of them. This 
morning I once more regained my recollection, but I feel very 
low spirited, though you will think it wrong for me to give way 
to it.” 
Some verses written by her in 1825 or 1826, and in 1830, I 
have also in her own handwriting, but of course in her second 
state.1 
The next thing that is noteworthy is the change which took 
place in her disposition. Instead of being melancholy she was 
now cheerful to extremity. Instead of being reserved she was 
buoyant and social. Formerly taciturn and retiring, she was 
now merry and jocose. Her disposition was totally and abso- 
lutely changed. While she was, in this second state, extrava- 
gantly fond of company, she was much more enamored of 
nature’s works, as exhibited in the forests, hills, vales, and 
water-courses. She used to start in the morning, either on foot 
or horseback, and ramble until nightfall over the whole country; 
nor was she at all particular whether she were on a path or in 
the trackless forest. Pier predilection for this manner of life 
may have been occasioned by the restraint necessarily imposed 
1 I quote two verses as characteristic. They refer clearly to an active practi- 
tioner. 
Calomel, tartar, and gamboge, 
He deals me out good measure ; 
Could I the dose to him infuse 
Would be to me a pleasure. 
Blisters and drafts he makes me wear, 
Two days and night together; 
Oh ! had I wings to take me where 
I could enjoy some pleasure. A CASE OE DOUBLE CONSCIOUSNESS. 
9 
upon her by her friends, which caused her to consider them 
her enemies, and not companions, and she was glad to keep out 
of their way. 
She knew no fear, and as bears and panthers were numerous 
in the woods, and rattlesnakes and copperheads abounded 
everywhere, her friends told her of the danger to which she 
exposed herself, but it produced no other effect than to draw 
forth a contemptuous laugh, as she said, “I know you only 
want to frighten me and keep me at home, but you miss it, for 
I often see your bears and I am-perfectly convinced that they 
are nothing more than black hogs.” 
One evening, after her return from her daily excursion, she 
told the following incident: “As I was riding to-day along a 
narrow path a great black hog came out of the woods and 
stopped before me. I never saw such an impudent black hog 
before. It stood up on its hind feet and grinned and gnashed 
its teeth at me. I could not make the horse go on. I told him 
he was a fool to be frightened at a hog, and tried to whip him 
past, but he would not go and wanted to turn back. I told the 
hog to get out of the way, but he did not mind me. ‘Well, 
said I, ‘if you won’t for words, I’ll try blows; ’ so I got off and 
took a stick and walked up toward it. When I got pretty close 
by, it got down on all fours and walked away slowly and sul- 
lenly, stopping every few steps and looking back and grinning 
and growling. Then I got on my horse and rode on.” 
On another occasion she saw a large rattlesnake, by the beauty 
of which she was attracted, and attempted to capture it, seizing 
it by the tail just as it was escaping among some logs. Her 
foot slipped, and to save herself from a fall she let go the snake. 
She afterward thrust her arm into the hole, but it had gone 
beyond her reach. It was known to be a rattlesnake, both by 
its appearance and by its rattle. She afterward became familiar 
with the species and remembered that the one she had pursued 
was like those which she now knew.1 
1 The accounts given of Miss Reynolds’ encounter with the bear and with the 
rattlesnake vary somewhat, as all human testimony does in regard to any par- 
ticular event, but are in all the various memoirs of her case. 10 
MITCHELL, 
“ In this peculiar state Mary’s parents had no control what- 
ever over her. She was very fond of exercising her ingenuity, 
in inventing tricks at the expense of others, to put them to as 
much trouble as possible, for the purpose of enjoying a laugh 
and causing others to join in it, at the ludicrous figure in which 
she never failed to make them appear.” She was uncommonly 
acute and inventive, and at the same time so apparently serious 
and free from duplicity as invariably to impose upon the most 
cautious. 
While she was forming and digesting some deep-laid scheme 
and inwardly laughing at the perfect success of her strategy, 
her exterior was all sedateness and profound gravity. One 
would then suppose that she was destitute of the power of 
smiling. Her appearance completely mocked the thoughts of 
her heart, and thwarted every effort to pry through the cover- 
ing and obtain a glimpse of what was at work within. This 
was so well carried out that those whom she had deceived hun- 
dreds of times, and who were ever on the watch, were never- 
theless imposed upon time and again, and no sooner were out 
of their difficulties, fully determined to be no more deceived, 
than before they were aware they were led into others and made 
a laughing-stock. It is very obvious from the account given 
that the return of power to use words intelligently must have 
been rapid. 
Thus it continued for five weeks, when one morning, after a 
protracted sleep, she awoke and was herself again. She rec- 
ognized the parental, the brotherly, and sisterly ties as though 
nothing had happened, and immediately went about the per- 
formance of duties incumbent upon her, and which she had 
planned five weeks previously. Great was her surprise at the 
change which one night (as she supposed) had produced. Na- 
ture bore a different aspect. Not a trace was left in her mind 
of the giddy scenes through which she had passed. Her ram- 
blings through the forest, her tricks and humor, all were faded 
from her memory, and not a shadow left behind. Her parents 
saw their child; her brothers and sisters saw their sister. She 
now had all the knowledge that she had possessed in her first A CASE OF DOUBLE CONSCIOUSNESS. 
11 
state previous to the change, still fresh and in as vigorous ex- 
ercise as though no change had been. But any new acquisi- 
tions she had made, and any new ideas she had obtained, were 
lost to her now—yet not lost, but laid up out of sight in safe 
keeping for future use. Of course her natural disposition re- 
turned ; her melancholy was deepened by the information of 
what had occurred. All went on in the old-fashioned way, and 
it was fondly hoped that the mysterious occurrences of those 
five weeks would never be repeated, but these anticipations were 
not to be realized. After the lapse of a few weeks she fell into 
a profound sleep, and awoke in her second state, taking up her 
new life again precisely where she had left it when she before 
passed from that state. She was not now a daughter nor a sister. 
All the knowledge she possessed was that acquired during 
the few weeks of her former period of second consciousness. 
She knew nothing of the intervening time. Two periods widely 
separated were brought into contact. She thought it was but 
one night. 
In this state she came to understand perfectly the facts of 
her case, not from memory, but from information. Yet her 
buoyancy of spirits was so great that no depression was pro- 
duced. On the contrary, it added to her cheerfulness, and was 
made the foundation, as was everything else, of mirth. 
These alternations from one state to another continued at in- 
tervals of varying length for fifteen or sixteen years, but 
finally ceased when she attained the age of thirty-five or thirty- 
six, leaving her 'permanently in her second state. In this she 
remained without change for the last quarter of a century of 
her life. 
In 1836, at the request of her nephew, Mr. John Y. Rey- 
nolds, then a student in Princeton Theological Seminary, she 
prepared an account of herself, the original manuscript of which 
Dr. Reynolds has given me for preservation in the library of 
the College of Physicians. It is addressed to her brother, and 
is closely written on quarto pages, in a very fine but clear hand, 
ending abruptly at the nineteenth page, and without signa- 
ture. 12 
MITCHELL, 
Being at the time it was written in her second state, she had 
no recollection of the feelings or incidents of her former life, 
and for that she relied upon the testimony of her friends. 
She says: 
“ From the spring of 1811 [when the first change occurred] 
until within eight or ten years, frequently changing from my 
first to my second, and from my second to [my] first state, more 
than three-quarters of my time I was in the second state. 
There never was any periodical regularity as to the transition. 
Sometimes I continued several mouths, and sometimes a few 
weeks, a few days, or only a few hours, in m37 second state; 
but in the lapse of five years I, in no one instance, continued 
more than twenty days at a time in ray first state. 
“ Whatever knowledge I acquired at any time in my second 
state became familiar to me when in that state, and I made such 
proficiency that I had become as well acquainted with things, 
and was in general as intelligent, in my second state as in my 
first state. 
“ These transitions always took place in my sleep. In pass- 
ing from my second to my first state nothing was particularly 
noticeable in my sleep, but in passing from first to second state 
my sleep was so profound that no one could awake me, and it 
not unfrequently continued eighteen or twenty hours. 
“ I had generally some presentiment of the change for sev- 
eral days before the event. My sufferings in the near prospect 
of the transition from either the one or the other state were 
extreme, particularly from the first to the second state. AYhen 
about to undergo the change, fearing I should never revert so 
O O' O 
as to know again in this world those who were dear to me, my 
feelings in this respect were not unlike one who was about to 
be separated by death, though in the second state I did not an- 
ticipate the change with such distressing apprehension as in the 
first. I was naturally cheerful, but more so at that time than 
in my natural state. I felt perfectly free from any trouble when 
in my second state; and for some time after I had been in that 
situation my feelings were such that had all my friends been A CASE OF DOUBLE CONSCIOUSNESS, 
13 
laying dead beside me I do not think that it would have caused 
me oue moment’s pain of mind. At that time my feelings were 
never moved, either with the manifestation of joy or sorrow. 
I had no idea either of the pastor future; nothing but the 
present occupied my mind. 
“In the earlier stages of my disease [{.e., seconder abnormal 
condition] I had no idea of employing my time in anything that 
was useful; did nothing but ramble about, and never tired 
walking through the fields. My mother one day thought she 
would try to rouse me a little. She told me that Paul said 
those who would not work must not eat. I told her it made 
no matter of difference to me what Paul said, I was not going 
to work for Paul or any other person, I did not know who 
Paul was, for I had no knowledge of the Bible at that time 
more than of anything else. However, I was very much of- 
fended at mother. I went over to your Aunt Lydia; told her 
I would not eat anything more at father’s. She gave me a pie 
and some cakes, which I took home and locked up, and for 
some time would bring my own provision to the table, but 
would partake of my mother’s tea and coffee. Whenever your 
aunt would bake she used to provide for me, and continued to 
do so for some length of time. I.lived upon very little; have 
wondered how I could live upon the little food and sleep which 
I did. For two and three days and nights together I neither 
ate nor slept. It was a matter of surprise to every person who 
knew me. I would conceive prejudices without cause against 
my best friends, and those would sometimes be very strong. 
However, at length those prejudices began in a measure to 
wear off, and I became more and more reconciled to my 
friends.” 
Miss Reynolds’ health was not undisturbed. She was on one 
occasion, at least, for an entire winter and spring, confined to 
her bed, so weak that she could not raise her hand to her head. 
During this time her transitions were frequent, but generally 
the second state continued for only a very short time. After 
her recovery from this bed-ridden condition this was her only 
state. During this illness pain would often seize her, while 14 
MITCHELL, 
blood rushed to her head; and as it continued her body would 
become rigid, as in death ; not a joint or a muscle would yield, 
and life would seem to be extinct. This was succeeded by 
trembling, which violently shook the whole bed. Her mind 
then wandered; she talked wildly; got out of bed and walked 
by the hour, notwithstanding her weakness when in her right 
mind. At these times she walked as steadily as a person in 
health, and had more strength than most sane persons. All 
attempts to control her were vain, unless the doctor happened 
to be at hand, when she became as obedient as a child. At 
these times she was absolutely deranged in a sense, which could 
hardly be said of her second state. Her agony was so great 
as to draw tears from its witnesses, and she would clasp her 
head as though it were about to burst. In such cases strong 
plasters of mustard, mixed with vinegar, were applied to the 
soles of her feet, and she was daily cupped over the temples, 
with relief and final recovery, though still in her second state. 
As before remarked, this was her state of liveliness and vi- 
vacity ; extravagant fondness for fun and company. She de- 
veloped imaginative powers and a strong propensity for versifi- 
cation and rhyming, a desire which seems to have come only 
with her new condition. The difference in her character in 
the two states was manifested in almost every act and habit. 
The two lives which Mary Reynolds lived for many years 
were thus entirely separate; each was complete in itself, the 
fragments of which it was composed, though in reality separ- 
ated by the portions of the other life intervening, sustained a 
due relation. Each state had its mental accumulations. The 
thoughts and feelings, the likes and dislikes, of the one state 
did not in any way influence or modify those of the other. 
In her natural state the strange double life which she led was 
the cause of great unhappiness. She looked upon it as a se- 
vere affliction from the hands of Providence. 
At the time of her first change her brother John was living 
in Meadville. Hearing of her remarkable condition he visited 
her at the old homestead. Of course she did not recognize 
him. But having been told of his relationship to her she soon A CASE OF DOUBLE CONSCIOUSNESS. 
15 
became warmly attached to him, and her affection grew as he 
repeated his visits during her continuance in the second state. 
Miss Reynolds became very anxious to visit her brother in 
Meadville, but her friends did not think it advisable to give her 
permission. Between one and two years after the first change, 
and while in her second state, she left home on horseback—an 
exercise of which she was very fond, and in which she was 
freely indulged—under pretence of visiting a neighbor. She 
made the visit (for she always carefully kept the letter of her 
word, though not always the spirit), but she made her visit very 
brief and then rode to Meadville, a distance of nearly thirty 
miles. Her family soon learned where she had gone and al- 
lowed her to remain several weeks. During that time she was 
the guest of Mrs. Kennedy, and shared a room with Miss D., 
another guest in the same family. The two girls becoming 
strong friends, agreed to play a practical joke on Mr. Reynolds. 
But it happened that neither of the young ladies awoke at the 
right time, and when Mary arose in the morning she had 
passed into her natural state. 
She now found herself in a strange house, for she had never 
been in Meadville in her natural state. She had for a sleeping 
companion a person who was a total stranger. She saw noth- 
ing with which she was familiar, and could not imagine where 
she was. Being, in her natural state, quiet and shy, she asked 
no questions. Miss D. spoke of the trick which they had pro- 
posed to play, but had not waked to perform. Miss Reynolds 
made no reply. She remembered nothing of the trick and 
knew not who it was that addressed her. She dressed herself 
and found her way down stairs, wondering and perplexed, but 
waiting to see what would happen, and hoping that something 
would soon occur that would solve the mystery. Mrs. Ken- 
nedy came into the room and spoke in her usually cheerful 
manner, but Mary knew her not. Soon afterward her brother 
John entered the room; then all was at once explained. In 
both states she knew him. In both states she knew that he re- 
sided in Meadville. So she knew she must be in Meadville. She 
informed him of the occurrence of the change, though there 16 
MITCHELL, 
was little need of it, for it was obvious to all. She was intro- 
duced anew to those among whom she had so strangely fallen. 
She remained at Mrs. Kennedy’s, in Meadville, for some days 
and then returned home. Very soon after her return she awoke 
one night, and arousing a sister with whom she was sleeping, 
she exclaimed, “ Come, Nancy! It is time to get up and play 
that trick on John ! ” She had changed into her second state 
and supposed that she was still in Meadville and sleeping with 
Miss D., and that it was the same night on which they had 
planned the joke. When she found she had returned to the 
“ Nocturnal Shades,” as she called her home in Venango when 
she was in her second state, she was much chagrined, for the 
larger society which she found in Meadville was, in that state, 
much more to her taste.1 
For a length of time, while in state 2, Miss Reynolds, after 
falling asleep at night, used to repeat audibly and in regular 
order all that she intended to do on the following day. This 
would occupy some minutes, and then she would cease. Thus, 
by listening, her friends were made acquainted with her pro- 
jects, and were ready to thwart them if necessary. The next 
day she would, if permitted, do all that she had planned and 
in the same order. She was her own tell-tale. She could 
not imagine how her plans could be known. It was at length 
discovered by her friends, to their great joy, that a person by 
assuming an air of command, and imposing on her positive in- 
junctions, could control her. But only one person had this 
power. To the remainder she paid no more regard than to 
the chirping of a cricket. The singular part of this was that 
the influence arose from no affection for that particular person 
nor from any especial fear, for it was sometimes one and some- 
times another, but never more than one. There seemed to he 
no more reason for her obeying that one than any or all of the 
1 Her exclamation was, “ Oh ! what a change; transmigrated from the height 
of happiness into these nocturnal regions, where nought but sullen silence reigns 
and death-like inactivity slumbers.” She said she could not think of spending 
her days “among these poor half-awakened sons of Jupiter,” and exacted a 
promise for her return to Meadville. A CASE OF DOUBLE CONSCIOUSNESS. 
17 
others. It was necessary to speak with the voice of authority 
and firmness, and to obtain promise of obedience in every case, 
otherwise she would not obey. But her promise could be ob- 
tained and was never violated. If, however, her promise was 
not of sufficient minuteness to enclose her in on every side by 
an insurmountable wall she would profit by the laxity. If a 
solitary chink were left unclosed, she would squeeze her con- 
science through it. One morning the person in authority said 
to her, “ You must not ride over the hills to-day.” She prom- 
ised to obey, but so soon as he had gone out she got a horse 
and was gone all day. In the evening when she had returned 
he said to her, “ Did I not tell you not to ride to-day ? ” “ Ho.” 
“ I certainly did.” “ JSTo, you did not; you told me not to ride 
over the hills, and I have not, but I have ridden through every 
valley I could find.” They were surrounded by hills, and there 
was only one way she could go to shun them, and that was 
along a little rivulet which passed near the house. 
She used to go on cold nights, when a hunt was proposed by 
her brother for the next day, and take the hunting coats and 
carry them a mile or two miles to some neighboring house and 
leave them there. The next morning the articles would be 
missing, and neither the loser nor the finder would be able to 
account for them. On one of these occasions she passed over 
Oil Creek on the ice when the water was very high and the 
ice so very thin that her safe passage was a matter of great sur- 
prise. One stormy night in winter, such a night as one would 
pity a dog to be exposed, she got up and went to the doctor’s, 
whom she did not like, but who had at this time the control of 
her. As her physician he imposed on her many restraints. 
With a man’s cloak and hat on she knocked at the door and 
got him up, and told him he must go immediately to a certain 
house, a long distance away, where a man was almost dead from 
injury. The doctor, poor man, went, but only to find the family 
fast asleep. Such experiences were not likely to sweeten the 
relations between doctor and patient. 
When in her most lively moods, the sight of the doctor pro- 
duced a most laughable and instant change. One moment all 
animation and hilarity, full of laughter and jokes; the next 18 
MITCHELL, 
she was the very picture of gravity. Neither the doctor nor 
any one else who was present could then get from her more 
than the monosyllabic “yes” or “ no.” No sooner would he 
be out of sight than she would resume her gaiety and laugh 
heartily at the way she had cheated the doctor. It was finally 
found necessary, from* the bad state of her nerves and general 
health, to prohibit her from going into company, and the doc- 
tor told her she might walk, but she must not go into any 
neighboring houses. The wily creature, however, would stand 
at their windows, and when asked to enter would say, “ No; 
the doctor says I must not, but he did not tell me I must not 
talk at the windows.” 
Her vivacity, wit, and good humor were so great that her 
acquaintances all desired her company, and would not inform 
on her. But one day the doctor saw her, and as he came 
toward her her countenance settled into dismay and gravity, as 
she said “ I’m done now. The doctor has caught me at last.” 
If at any time she would suddenly change from levity to gravity 
you might be certain the doctor was in sight. If the contrary 
change, he was out of sight. 
The mental disturbance which at times characterized the 
earlier portions of her second state grew fainter, and at length 
wholly disappeared, leaving her permanently altered in char- 
acter. This dates from about the year 1829, when she had 
reached her thirty-sixth year. In this state she lived the re- 
mainder of her life, a period of twenty-five years. During this 
quarter of a century no one could have discovered in her any- 
thing out of the ordinary way, except that she manifested an 
unusual degree of nervousness and restlessness ; yet not enough 
to excite remark. 
It is to be borne in mind that she was still in this her abnor- 
mal state all the rest of life, without memory although not 
without knowledge of her true self. The change from a gay, 
hysterical, mischievous woman, fond of jests and subject to 
absurd beliefs or delusive convictions, to one retaining the 
joyousness and love of society, but sobered down to levels 
of practical usefulness, was gradual. The most of the twenty- 
five years which followed she was as different from her melan- A CASE OF DOUBLE CONSCIOUSNESS. 
19 
choly, morbid self as from the hilarious condition of the early 
years of her second state. Some of her family spoke of it as 
her third state. She is described as becoming rational, indus- 
trious, and very cheerful, yet reasonably serious; possessed 
of a well-balanced temperament and not having the slightest 
indication of an injured or disturbed mind. For some years 
she taught school, and in that capacity was both useful and 
acceptable, being a general favorite with old and young. 
During these last twenty-five years she lived in the same 
house with the Rev. Dr. John Y. Reynolds, her nephew, part 
of that time keeping house for him, showing a sound judgment 
and a thorough acquaintance with the duties of her position. 
Dr. Reynolds, who is still living in Meadville, and who has 
most kindly placed the facts at my disposal, states in his letter 
to me of January 4, 1888, that at a later period of her life she 
said she did sometimes seem to have a dim, dreamy idea of a 
shadowy past, which she could not fully grasp, and could not 
be certain whether it originated in a partially restored memory 
or in the statements of the events by others during her abnor- 
mal state. 
Miss Reynolds died in January, 1854, at the age of sixty-one. 
On the morning of the day of her death she rose in her usual 
health, ate her breakfast, and superintended household duties. 
While thus employed, she suddenly raised her hands to her 
head and exclaimed “ Oh! I wonder what is the matter with 
my head ! ” and immediately fell to the floor. When carried 
to a sofa she gasped once or twice and died. 
Rote.—A brief abstract of this case, taken from the Medical 
Repository, is given by Prof. H. C. Wood, in his work on Ner- 
vous Diseases and their Diagnosis, Phila., 1887, p. 372. Follow- 
ing it are abstracts of the more or less similar cases of Dr. 
Azam, Annates Med. Psych., 1876, vol. xvi.; Dr. James Mayo, 
Lond. Med. Gazette, vol. i., 1845; Dr. Samuel Jackson, Amer. 
Journ. Med. Sci., 1869, p. 18, with a reference to a case of his 
own following depressed fracture of the skull. Azam’s, Mayo’s, 
and Jackson’s cases were all girls from fifteen to eighteen. 
Dr. Wood’s case was that of a man.