ti-3 t f ,-i.v • ■* NLH DDSblDIl 1 U.S. NATIONAL LIBRARY OF MEDICINE V*, NLM005610919 Price IS Cents. HUMBOLDT LIBRARY. [No. 46. P^~ Supplied to the Trade, Returnable, by the News Companiet. THE DISEASES OF MEMORY. BY T H. R I B O T, i « i Translated from the French by J. Fitzgerald, A.M. —---. -♦- .----- CATALOGUE OP THE LIBRARY. (Continued from last page of cover.) No. 40, The Scientific Evidence of Organic Evolution. By George J. Romanes, F.R.S. No. 41, Current Discussions in Science. By W. M. Williams, F.R.A.S. No. 42, The History of the Science of Politics. By Frederick Pollock. No. 43, Darwin and Humboldt. By Prof. Hixley, Prof. Agassiz. and others. Nos. 44, 45, The Dawn of History. Edited by C. F. Keary. M.A. J. FITZGERALD, PUBLISHER, 20 LAFAYETTE PLACE, NEW YORK. TWO BOUiND VOLUMES OF THE HUMBOLDT LIBRARY Vol. I, Containing the first 24 Numbers, Quirto size, 750 pagei. Price $4.00. (Postage prepaid.) Vol. II Contains the following Works: The Origiu of Nations. By Pr^f. 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Y.—"Cannot fail to fascinate ;hcse who are fond of music, or of contemplating the laws which in the works of nature are seen in full opt ation." II. How the Geometrical Lines Have Their Counterparts in Music. Price, paper, 12 cents. Evening Mm.il, N. Y.—" Manifests subtle thought and a Item perception of the deep foundation on which nasic rests." jyAs these works are not for sale by the book trade, o.ders should be sent direct to J. FITZGERALD, 20 LAFAYETTE PLACE, NEW YORK. HUMBOLDT LIBRARY OF Popular Science Literature. No. 46.] NEW YORK: J. FITZGERALD. [Fifteen Cents. July, 1883. Entered at the New York Post-Office as Second-Class Matter. $1.50 per Year, (12 Numbers). THE DISEASES OF MEMORY. BY TH. RIBOT, AUTHOR OF "HEREDITY;" "ENGLISH PSYCHOLOGY,'' ETC. TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH BY J. FITZGERALD, A. H. Copyright, 1883, by J. Fitzgerald. PREFACE. My purpose in this work has been to pre- sent a psychological monograph of the diseases of memory, and, so far as the state of our knowledge permits, to deduce there- from a few conclusions. The memory has often been studied, but hardly on its path- ological side; and it has seemed to me that it might be profitable to view the subject under that aspect. I have endeavored to restrict myself to that, and have spoken of normal memory only so far as was necessary for clearness. I have cited many facts, and in this respect my method is not the literary one; but I hold it to be the only one for conveying instruction. To describe in general terms the disordered states of the memory, without giving instances of each, appears to me to be labor thrown away, because it is important that the author's conclusions be capable of verification at every step. I beg the reader to note that what is offered to him here is an essay in descriptive psychology, i. e., a chap- ter in natural history, and nothing more; and that, if it possesses no other merit, this little volume will acquaint him with a mass of curious observations and cases scattered through all sorts of compilations, and now for the first time collected together. January, 1881. CHAPTER I. MEMORY AS A BIOLOGICAL FACT. Memory essentially a biological fact, incident- ally a psychic fact—Organic memory— Modifications of nerve-ele?nents; dynamic associations between these elements—Con- scious memory—Conditions of consciousness : intensity ; duration— Unconscious cerebra- tion—Nerve action is the fundamental con- dition of memory; consciousness is only an accessory—Localization in the past, or recol- lection—Mechanism of this operation—It is not a simple and instantaneous act; it consists of the addition of secondary states of consciousness to the principal stale of consciousness—Memory is a vision in time —Localization, theoretical and practical— Reference points—Resemblance and differ- ence between localization in the future and in the past—All memory an illusion—For- getfulness a condition of memory—Return to the starting point: conscious memory tends little by little to become automatic. The descriptive study of memory has been very well performed by divers authors, espe- cially by the Scotch, and hence it is not designed to revert to it. I propose to inquire what we may learn from the new method chology as to the nature o'.. ■ \B63 2 [454] TH^DISEASES OF MEMORJ. show that the teachings of psychology com- bined with those of consciousness lead us to state this problem much more broadly; to prove that memory, as popularly understood, and as usually described by psychologists, so far from being memory in its entirety, is only one particular phase of it, though the highest and most complex, and that this, taken by itself and studied apart, cannot be fully understood; that it is the final term of a long evolution and, as it were, an efflores- cence, whose root is found far back in organic life: in short, that memory is essentially a biological fact, and only by accident a fact of psychology. Thus understood, our study involves a gen- eral physiology and psychology of memory, and at the same time its pathology. The disorders and diseases of this faculty, when classified and interpreted, are no longer an assemblage of curious facts and amusing anecdotes to be mentioned only incidentally: on the contrary, they are seen to be subject to certain laws which constitute the very groundwork of memory and which reveal its mechanism. I. In the common acceptation of the word, memory includes three things, viz.: the retention of certain states; their reproduc- tion; their localization in the past. This, however, is only one kind of memory, and it may be designated perfect. These three ele- ments are of unequal value: the first two are necessary, indispensable; the third, that which, in the language of the schools, is called "recollection," gives completeness to memory, but does not constitute it. Do away with the first two, and memory is abol- ished: suppress the third, and memory ceases to exist for itself, without ceasing to exist in itself. Hence this third element, which is purely psychological, appears as superadded to the others: they are permanent; it is in- stable, appearing and disappearing; it repre- sents what consciousness may claim as its own in the fact of memory, and nothing more. If we study memory as it has been studied down to our time, as a " faculty of the soul," with the aid of the sensus intimus (conscious- ness) alone, we must of necessity recognize in this perfect and conscious phase all that there is in memory; nevertheless that were, under the influence of a faulty method, to take a part for the whole, or rather the spe- cies for the genus. Some authors of our day—Huxley, Clifford, Maudsley, and others, —by maintaining that consciousness is only the accompaniment of some nervous pro- cesses, and that it is as incapable of reacting upon them as is a shadow of reacting on the footsteps of the wayfarer that it accompa- nies, have opened the way for the new theory which is here essayed. Let us set aside for "' -r- oment the psychic element, which will be considered later; let us reduce the prob- lem to its simplest terms, and see how, quite apart from consciousness, a new state is im- planted in the organism, how it is retained, and how reproduced: in other words, how, apart from consciousness, a fact of memory has its rise. Before we come to organic memory itself, we must note certaia phenomena that have sometimes been compared to it. Authors have found analogues of memory in the inor- ganic world, and particularly "in the prop- erty possessed by light-vibrations, whereby they may be stored up on a sheet of paper, and there persist, for a longer or shorter time, in the state of latent vibrations, ready to reappear at the summons of a developing agent. Engravings exposed to the sun's rays and then kept in a dark place, can months afterward, by the aid of appropriate re- agents, reveal persistent traces of the photo- graphic action of the sun upon their surface."* Lay a key upon a sheet of white paper, and expose the two to the direct rays of the sun; then lay the paper away in a drawer, and years afterward the spectral image of the key will be visible.f In our opinion these and other like facts bear too remote an analogy to memory to merit being cited. In them we find the first condition of all recollection, namely, the retention of the im- pression, but that is all we find, for here the reproduction of the impression is in such a degree passive, and dependent on the inter- vention of an outside agency, that it bears no resemblance to the natural reproduction of memory. Furthermore, with regard to the matter before us, we must never forget that we have to do with the laws of life, not with physical laws, and that the foundations of memory must be sought in the properties of organized matter and not elsewhere. It will be seen later that they who overlook this fall into errors. Neither will I dwell upon certain hab- its of plants, that have been compared to memory: I hasten to deal with facts of a more decisive character. $ In the animal kingdom muscle tissue rough- ly illustrates the acquisition of new prop- erties, their retention and their automatic re- production . ' 'Daily experience," says Hering, "shows that a muscle becomes stronger the * Luys, " The Brain and its Functions." t G. H. Lewes, "Problems of Life and Mind." Third Series, p. 57. % Two facts observed by the Translator may, per- haps, serve to illustrate the persistence of impres- sions through diversified physical changes. A mass of beeswax that had been employed again and again, melted and re-melted, in an electrotype foundry which was all blackened with graphite, and had, ap-! parently, lost forever the cell-structure of the honey- comb, was found to present on its surface, with great distinctness, the outlines of the polygonal cells. Again, a jar of raspberry conserve—the juice of the raspberry boiled, with the addition of sugar, pre- sented the forms of the berries so distinctly tnat with care, it was possible to separate one from the mass. » THE DISEASE! oftener it works. The muscle fiber which at first makes feeble response to the excita- tion transmitted by the motor nerve, re- sponds more energetically the more frequent- ly it is excited, pauses and rests being of course presupposed. After each action it is more fitted for action again, better prepared for the repetition of the same work, better adjusted for the reproduction of the organic process. It wins more by activity than by long repose. Here we have, in its simplest form,—in that which comes nearest to purely physical conditions—that faculty of repro- duction which is found under so complex a form in nerve substance. And what we see in muscular tissue we see in greater or less degree in the substance of the other organs. We everywhere observe that an enhanced functional power of organs accompanies an increase of activity, with sufficient intervals of rest."* The most highly developed tissue of the organism, nerve tissue, presents in tfye high- est degree this two-fold property of retention and reproduction. Still, we will hot seek in the most simple form of its activity, reflex action, the type of organic memory. Reflex action, indeed, whether it consists of an ex- citation followed by one contraction or by many, is a result of an anatomical arrange- ment. And it might be asserted, not without probability, that this anatomical arrangement, now innate in animals, is the product of he- redity, that is to say, of a specific memory; that some time it was acquired, and then be- came fixed and organic through innumerable repetitions. We will not employ this argu- ment in favor of our thesis, for there are many others far less open to question. The true type of organic memory—and here we come to the very core of our subject —must be sought in that group of phenom- ena which Hartley so well named secondary automatic actions, as opposed to primary or innate automatic acts. These secondary au- tomatic actions, or acquired movements, are the very groundwork of our daily life. Thus, locomotion, which in many lower species is an innate property, in Man has to be acquired— especially that power of coordination which maintains the body's equilibrium at each step we take, by combining tactual impressions with visual. It may be generally affirmed that in an adult the members and the senso- rial organs act so freely as they do, only be- cause of the sum of acquired and coordinated movements which constitute for each separate part of the body its special memory—the ac- cumulated capital on which it lives, and by which it acts, just as the mind lives and acts by reason of its past experiences. To the same class belong those groups of movements of a more artificial character, which consti- * Hering, " Ueber das Gedachtniss als allgemeine Function der organisirten Materie." ae. Auflage. Wien: Gerold's Sohn, 1876, p. 13. > OF MEMORY. [466] 3 tute the apprenticeship of all manual trades, games of skill, various bodily exercises, etc. If we inquire how these primary automatic movements are acquired, fixed and repro- duced, we see that the first step consists in forming associations. The raw material, so to speak, is supplied by the primary reflex actions; these are to be grouped in a certain way, and some combined together, to the ex- clusion of others. Sometimes this period of formation is simply a long continued experi- mentation. Acts which no a-seem to us to be entirely natural, were originally acquired by most laborious effort. When the babe's eyes for the first time see the light, we notice an incoherent fluctuation of movements; a few weeks later coordination of the move- ments is effected, and the eyes can adjust themselves, can locate a luminous point, and follow its every movement. When a child is learning to write, observes Lewes, he cannot move the hand by itself, but must also move the tongue, the muscles of the face and even those of the feet.* But in time he learns to suppress these useless movements. Any one, on essaying for the first time any mus- cular act, expends a large amount of super- fluous energy, which he afterward by degrees learns to restrict to what is simply necessary. The appropriate motions become fixed by exercise, to the exclusion of the others. There are formed in the nerve elements cor- responding to the motor organs, secondary dynamic associations more or less stable (that is to say, a memory), and these are added to the primarv and permanent anatomical asso- ciations. If the reader will observe for a moment these secondary automatic actions, which are very numerous and fall under the cognizance of every one, he will see that this organic memory is like psychological memory in all respects, save one, viz., the absence of con- sciousness. If we sum up the characteristics of organic memory, the perfect resemblance between the two memories will clearly ap- pear: Acquisition, now instantaneous; again slow. Repetition of the act in some cases neces- sary, in others of no use. Inequality of or- ganic memory in different persons: in some quick, in others slow or altogether refractory: awkwardness is the result of defective organic memory. In some persons there is perma- nence of associations that have once been formed: in others these are readily lost, for- gotten. Arrangement of these acts in simul- taneous or in successive series, just as in the case of conscious memory. A fact worthy of note in this connection is that each mem- ber of a series suggests the next following: this is what occurs when we walk without re- flecting on the act. Soldiers on foot, and even horsemen in the saddle, overcome by sleep, have been able to keep on the mareh, * Op. Cit. p. 51. 4 [456) THE DISEASES OF MEMORY. though the latter haye continually to preserve their equilibrium. This organic suggestion is exhibited more strikingly still in the case mentioned by Dr. Carpenter* of an accom- plished pianist, who executed a piece of mu- sic while asleep—a feat which we must credit less to the sense of hearing than to the mus- cular sense which suggested the succession of movements. But not to go in search of ex- traordinary cases, we find in our daily actions organic series, both complex and well-de- fined, that is, wherein the beginning and the end are fixed, and wherein the terms, all dif- fering from one another, follow in a constant order, as in going up or down a stairway with which we are fam:liar. Our psychological memory takes no note of the number cf steps; our organic memory notes it after its own fashion, as also the division by landings, the arrangement of the banisters and other details: it makes no mistake. May we not say that, for the organic memory, these well- defined series are strictly the analogues of a phrase, a couplet of verses, or an air in music for the psychological memory. Thus, then, in its mode of acquiring, pre- serving and reproducing impressions we find organic memory identical with psychological. Consciousness alone is wanting. At first con- sciousness accompanied the motor activity, then it gradually disappeared. Sometimes— and such cases are the most instructive—the disappearance of consciousness is abrupt. A certain man subject to temporary suspense of consciousness would continue, wliile this con- dition lasted, any movement he might have begun. One day he walked straight into a body of water. Often—for he was a shoe- maker—he would prick his fingers with his awl and go on with the movements of stab- bing the awl through the leather, f In the epileptic vertigo called the "petit mal" such occurrences are of every day observation. A certain musician while playing the violin in an orchestra, was often seized with epileptic vertigo (momentary loss of consciousness) during the performance of apiece—"never- theless he would keep on playing, and though absolutely unconscious of all around him, neither seeing nor hearing the musicians who accompanied him, he followed the measure."^ It is as though consciousness were teaching us just what part it plays, and showing its real value, and by disappearing suddenly, were proving that in the mechanism of memory it is a superadded element. We have now in logical sequence to ad- vance further, and to inquire what modifica- tions of the organism are required for the establishment of memory, what changes the nervous system undergoes when a group of * " Mental Physiology," § 7J. t Carpenter, " Mental Physiology," p. 75. t Trousseau, " Lecons Cliniques," vol. 11, xli, § 2. In the same passage are found many other facts of this kind. We will return to this subj'ect when we come to treat of the pathology of memory. movements is definitively organized. Here we come upon the last question that can be raised, without going beyond the region of facts, as to the organic bases of memory; and if organic memory is a property of animal life, whereof psychological memory is only a particular phase, whatever we shall discover or conjecture as to its ultimate conditions,will be applicable to memory in general. It is impossible for us, in this inquiry, to forego resort to hypothesis. Still, by avoid- ing all a priori conceptions, by keeping close to facts, and taking our stand upon what is known in regard to nerve action, we escape all risk of serious error. Besides, the hy- pothesis we offer is capable of all sorts of modification. Finally, in lieu of a vague phrase touching the retention and reproduc- tion of memory, it will substitute in our minds a distinct representation of the ex- tremely complex process which produces and sustains it. The first point to be established is that re- garding the seat of memory. This question cannot now-a-days give occasion for any seri- ous controversy. '' We must regard it as well nigh demonstrated," says Bain, "that the renewed feeling occupies the very same parts and in the same manner, as the original feeling." To cite a striking example of this, experience shows that the persistent idea of a bright color fatigues the optic nerve. We know that the perception of a colored object is often followed by a consecutive sensation which presents the object with the same con- tours, but in a color complementary to the real color. The same may occur in regard to the idea (the recollection). That, too, leaves, though with a less degree of intensity, a consecutive image. If, with closed eyes, we keep for a length of time an image of very lively colors before the imagination, and then opening the eyes suddenly we fix them upon a white surface, we see thereon for an instant the image contemplated in imagina- tion, but in the complementary color. This fact, as is observed by Wundt, from whom we borrow it, proves that the nerve action is the same in the two cases—in the sense-per- ception and in the memory.* The number of facts and inductions that go to confirm this thesis is so great as to make it almost a certitude; and it would re- quire weighty reasons indeed to refute it. In truth there is no such thing as memory but only memories; there is no one seat of mem- ory, but special seats for each memory in particular. Memory is not, as the vague phrase of common speech has it, "in the soul;" it is fixed in its birth-place, in a part of the nervous system. This premised, we begin to see our way more clearly through the problem of the physiological conditions of memory. These conditions we conceive to be as follows: ♦For further details upon this point, see Bain, " The Senses and the Intellect. ' THE DISEASES OF MEMORY. [457] 5 I. A special modification impressed upon the nerve-elements. 2. An association, a special connection established between a certain number of these elements. Authors have not given to this second con- dition the importance it deserves, as we shall endeavor to show. To confine ourselves for a moment to or- ganic memory, let us take one of those sec- ondary automatic movements which have served us as typeS, and consider what takes place during the period of organization—for instance, the movements of the legs in walk- ing. Each movement requires the play of a cer- tain number of muscles, superficial or deep- seated ; of tendons, joints, ligaments, etc. These modifications—at least most of them— are transmitted to the sensorium. Whatever opinion one may hold upon the anatomical conditions of muscular sensibility, certain it is that it exists; that it tells us what part of the body is concerned in a movement, and that it enables us to regulate this movement. Now what does this imply? It implies modifications received and retained by a de- terminate group of nerve-eloments. "The movements that are instigated or actuated by a particular nervous center do, like the idea, leave behind them residua, which, after sev- eral repetitions, become so completely organ- ized into the nature of the nervous center that the movements may henceforth be auto- matic."* "The residua of volitions, like the residua of sensations or ideas, remain in the mind and render future volitions of a like kind, more easy and more definite."! It is this organization of the "residua" which, after the period of experimentation already mentioned, enables us to perform movements with more and more ease and precision, till at last they become automatic. In subjecting to analysis this very familiar instance of organic memory, we see that it implies the two conditions mentioned above. The first condition is a special modification impressed upon the nerve-elements. As this has oftentimes been explained before, we shall not dwell long upon it. In the first place, the nerve-filament being ex kypothesi impressionless, does it, upon receiving an entirely new impression, retain a permanent modification ? This is a moot point. Some authors see in the nerves a simple conductor the constituent material of which, being for a moment disturbed by an impression, returns again to its original state of equilibrium. Whether we explain the transmission by vi- brations propagated along the axis-cylinder, or by a chemical decomposition of its proto- plasm, it is difficult to believe that nothing of it remains. But however that may be, we find at least in the nerve cell the element * Maudsley, " Physiology and Pathology of the Mind," p 167. t Ibid, p. 157- which, by general consent, receives, stores up and reacts. Now, an impression, once received, marks it with an imprint. Thereby, according to Maudsley, there is produced an aptitude and with it differentiation of the element, though we have no reason to sup- pose that originally that element differed from homologous nerve cells. " Every impression leaves a certain ineffaceable trace; that is to say, the molecules, once they are arranged otherwise and forced to vibrate in a different way, will not return exactly to their original state. If I brush the surface of still water with a feather, the liquid will not resume the form which it had before: it may again pre- sent a smooth surface, but molecules will have changed places, and a sufficiently pene- trating eye would certainly discover therein evidence of the passage of the feather. Ani- mal molecules that have been disarranged have thereby gained, in a greater or less de- gree, aptitude for undergoing disarrangement. Doubtless, if this same external agency does not again act anew upon the same molecules, they will tend to resume their own natural movement; but the case will be very differ- ent if they are again and again subjected to the same action. Then they will little by little lose the power of returning to their natural movement, and will become more and more identified with that which is impressed upon them, till at last it becomes natural to them in its turn, and they obey the slightest cause that wHl set them in vibration." * It is impossible to define wherein this mod- ification consists. Neither microscope nor reagents, neither histology nor histochemis- try can throw light upon it; but facts and reason assure us that it exists. The second condition, which consists in the establishment of stable associations between different groups of nerve-elements, has not hitherto attracted attention. I am not aware even that contemporary authors have recog- nized its importance; and yet it is a neces- sary consequence of their thesis upon the seat of memory. Some of them appear to hold, implicitly at least, that a memory, either organic or con- scious, is impressed upon a single cell which, with its nerve filaments, would seem to pos- sess a sort of monopoly of retaining and re- producing it. What has contributed to keep up this illusion is, I conceive, the fashion of speech which requires us to look on a move- ment, a perception, a thought, an image, a sentiment, as one thing, as a unit. But re- flection soon shows each of these supposed units to be made up of many and hetero- geneous elements; that it is an association, a group, a fusion, a complex, a multiplicity. Take the example already cited—a locomo- tory movement. This may be regarded as a reflex action of great complexity, the initial • Delboeuf, "Theorie Geaerale de la Sensibilite," I p. 60. 6 [458] THE DISEASES OF MEMORY. impression of which is the contact of the foot with the ground each moment. Let us consider this movement at first in its complete form. Is the starting point a voluntary act ? Then, according to Ferrier, the impulsion that has its rise in a particular region of the cortex of the brain, traverses the white substance, passes into the corpora striata, through the crura cerebri, the pro- tuberance, the complex structure of the me- dulla; thence going over to the other side of the body, where it descends along the antero- lateral columns of the spinal cord to the lum- bar region, and thence along the motor nerves to the muscles. This transmission is accom- panied or followed by a return to the centers through the posterior columns of the cord and the gray matter, the medulla, the pons Varolii, the optic tract and the white matter to the cortex of the brain. Let us consider this movement in its abridged and most or- dinary form—when it is automatic. In that case, according to the commonly received hypothesis, the transit proceeds only from the periphery to the cerebral ganglia and back again to the periphery, the superior brain not being involved in the movement. This movement, the principal stages of which we have roughly indicated, and all the details of which are not yet thoroughly known, even to the most learned anatomists, implies the calling into action of nerve-elements very numerous, and very diverse. Thus, the mo- tor and the sensory nerves differ in their his- tological structure from the nerves of the brain and the spinal cord. The cells differ in volume, in form (there being fusiform cells, giant cells, pyramidal cells, etc.), in the directions in which they lie, in the number of their filaments, in their position in the sev- eral parts of the cerebro spinal axis, for they are distributed from the inferior extremity of the spinal cord to the cortical layers. All these elements play their respective parts in the concert of action. If the reader will glance at an anatomical chart, or at a few histological preparations, he will obtain an approximate idea of the enormous number of nerve-elements necessary to produce a move- ment, and consequently to retain and repro- duce it. We therefore hold it to be of the utmost importance to call attention to this point, viz., that organic memory supposes not only a modification of the nerve elements, but also the establishment between them of associa- tions adapted to each special action—of certain dynamic associations which, by repetition be- come as stable as the primary anatomical con- nections. In our opinion the thing that is of importance, as supplying a basis for memory, is not only the modification impressed upon each element, but the way in which sundry elements are grouped together to form a complex. As this point is for us of the first import- ance, we shall have no hesitation in dwelling upon it. First, it will be observed, that our hypothesis, which is a necessary corollary of admitted facts regarding the seat of memory, simplifies certain difficulties, though at first view it may appear to complicate them. The question is asked, can each nerve cell pre- serve many different modifications; or, once modified, is it polarized forever after? Of course we are reduced here to conjecture; yet we may without rashness suppose that though it may be capable of many modifica- tions, the number of these must be limited. So, too, we may suppose that it preserves only one. The number of the brain cells being 600,000,000, according to the calcula- tion made by Meynert (and Dr. Lionel Beale gives a very much higher number), the hy- pothesis of a single impression is in no wise inadmissible. But this question is of sec- ondary interest for us, for even though we accept the latter hypothesis—the most un- favorable one for explaining the number and complexity of acts of organic memory—we should find that this single modification,, being capable of entering into different com- binations, may produce different results. We are to note not only each factor individu- ally, but the relations of all the factors to one another, and the combinations thence re- sulting. The modified cell may be compared to a letter of the alphabet. This letter, while it continues to be the same, has con- curred in forming millions of words in the living and dead languages. Combinations innumerable and of the highest complexity may result, through grouping, from a small number of elements. To return to our instance of locomotion : The organic memory that serves as its basis consists of a special modification of a multi- tude of nerve elements. But several of these elements, thus modified, may subserve another purpose, may enter into other com- binations, may take a part in other memories. The secondary automatic movements that constitute swimming or dancing presupposes certain modifications of the muscles, certain articulations already employed for locomotion, already registered in certain nerve elements; in short, they find a memory already organized, sundry elements of which they turn to their own advantage, causing them to enter into a new combination and to concur in form- ing another memory. Further, we would observe, that the neces- sity of a great number of cells and nerve fila- ments for the retention and reproduction of a movement, though thi same be a compara- tively simple one, implies a greater possibility of permanence and reviviscence ; in conse- quence of the number of the elements and of the solidarity established between them, the chances of reviviscence are increased, each one tending to call forth the others. Finally, our hypothesis is in agreement with two facts of daily observation, viz. : 1. An acquired movement that is well fixed! THE DISEASES OF MEMORY. [459] 7 in the organism, firmly retained, is displaced only with great difficulty by another, having nearly the same seat, but involving a different mechanism. In fact, one association has to be broken up to form another; established relations have to be annulled to set up new ones. 2. It sometimes happens that, in lieu of one accustomed movement, we involuntarily per- form another; this is accounted for by the fact that as the same elements enter into dif- ferent combinations capable of producing nerve-discharges in different directions, a trifling circumstance may suffice to call into activity one group instead of another, so producing different effects. Thus at least do we explain the following fact, reported by Lewes (Op. Cit., p. 128): "I was one day relating a visit to the Epileptic Hospital, and, intending to name the friend, Dr. Bas- tian, who accompanied me, I said, ' Dr. Brinton,' then immediately corrected this with 'Dr. Bridges;' this also wa. rejected, and ' Dr. Bastian' was pronounced. I was under no confusion whatever as to the per- sons, but, having imperfectly adjusted the group of muscles necessary for the articula- tion of the one name, the one element which was common to that group and to the others, namely, B, served to recall all three." The explanation seems entirely correct, and we may note with the author another familiar fact which favors our theory: " Who dees not know," says Lewes, "how, in trying to recollect a name, we are tormented with the sense of its beginning with a certain letter, and how, by keeping this letter constantly before the the mind, at last the whole group emerges." A like observation may be made with regard to the acquired movements that constitute the act of writing. It is a mistake I have often found myself falling into, especially when writing rapidly and with a wearied brain; it is so trifling, so quickly corrected and so quickly forgotten, that I have had to make a note of it at the moment. Here are some instances : Intending to write the words " doit de bonnes" I wrote "donne." Intend- ing to write " ne pasfaire unepart," I wrote " ne part faire," etc. Evidently, in the first case the letter D, and in the second the letter P (and by letter I mean the psycho-physio- logical state which serves as the basis for their conception and graphic representation), called forth one group instead of another; and this confusion was all the easier as the remainder of the groups, " onne" and "art," were already in the consciousness. Doubt- less any one who will take the trouble of ob- serving his own practice in these respects will admit that such errors are of frequent occurrence. What has been said is hypothetical, but the hypothesis appears to be in agreement with scientific data, and to account for the facts. It enables us to contemplate in pretty definite shape the bases of organic memory, of those acquired movements which constitute the memory of our several organs—our eyes, our hands, our members. These bases do not, in our opinion, consist in a purely mechanical registration, nor, as the usual comparison would have it, in an impress preserved we know not where, like the image of the key already mentioned. These are similes bor- rowed from the world of physics and are out of place here. Memory is a biological fact. A rich and well-stored memory is not a col- lection of impressions, but an assemblage of dynamic associations, very stable and very readily called forth. II. We are now to study a more complex form of memory, that which is accompanied by consciousness, and which in ordinary lan- guage, and even in the language of psycholo- gists is regarded as the sum total of memory. We have to inquire how far what has just been said of organic memory applies to this, and what is added by consciousness. In passing from the simple to the complex, from the lower to the higher, from a stable form of memory to an instable one, we must not overlook the preliminary question of the relation between the unconscious and con- sciousness. So involved is this problem in its native obscurity and in artificial mysticism, that it seems difficult to say anything clear and decisive about it; but we shall try. Of course we have nothing to do with the metaphysics of the unconscious, as under- stood by Hartmann and others; we shall even begin by confessing that we know not how to explain the transition from the uncon- scious to consciousness. One may offer in- genious, plausible hypotheses upon the sub- ject, but nothing more. However, psychology, as a science of facts does not need to concern itself with these points; it takes consciousness for granted, without caring for its genesis; all that it can do is to determine a few of its conditions of existence. The first of these is the mode of action of the nervous system, called by physiologists nervous discharge. But most nerve states do not awaken consciousness at all, or but rarely, and in an indirect way : for instance, the excitations and discharges whose scat is the great sympathetic; the normal action of the vaso-motor nerves; a great many reflex actions, etc. Others are accompanied by consciousness intermittently; or, though they are conscious in the early period of life, they cease to be so in the adult; instance the secondary automatic actions already men- tioned. Nerve action is far more widely dis- tributed than psychic activity: all psychic acts involve nerve action, but the proposition is not reciprocally true. Between the nerve activity that is never, or hardly ever, accom- panied by consciousness, and the nerve activ- ity that is always, or nearly always, so accompanied, stands that which sometimes o [460) THE DISEASES OF MEMORY. has for its concomitant consciousness. It is in this group of facts that the unconscious must be studied. Before we arrive at clearer and better- grounded conclusions on this subject, we would note two other conditions of conscious- ness, viz., intensity and duration. i. Intensity is a condition of highly va- riable character. Our states of conscious- ness are ever striving to supplant one an- other, but victory may result equally either from the superior strength of the victor or from the weakness of the other contestants. We know—and this point has been very well elucidated by the school of Herbart—that the most vivid state of consciousness may grow steadily fainter till at last it falls below the level of consciousness, in other words, till one of its conditions of existence fails. We are justified in affirming for consciousness all possible degrees down to the lowest, to the state called by Maudsley sub-conscious ; but there is no warrant for maintaining that this descending scale has no end, though we may not discern it. 2. Duration, as a necessary condition of consciousness, has not received much atten- tion ; yet it is of the first importance. On this point we can reason from definite data. The researches of the last thirty years have determined the time that is required for the different sense-perceptions, (hearing 0.16 to 0.14 sec, touch, 0.21 to 0.18 sec, sight, 0.20 to 0.22 sec, and for the sim- plest act of discernment, that nearest to re- flex action 0.02 to 0.04 sec). Though the results vary according to the experimenter, the person under experiment, the circum- stances and the nature of the psychical acts that are being investigated, so much is at least established, viz., that every psychical act re- quires an appreciable duration, and that the supposed infinite rapidity of thought is only a figure of speech. From this it follows that no nervous action, the duration of which is less than that required by psychic action, can awaken consciousness. An instructive comparison may be made between the nerv- ous act accompanied by consciousness, and simple reflex action. According to Exner * the time necessary for a reflex action is 0.0662 to 0.0578 sec, which is much less than that stated above for the different sense- perceptions. If, as Herbert Spencer ob- serves, the wing of a gnat makes from ten to fifteen thousand beats in a second, each involving a separate nervous act, we have nerve action of astounding rapidity, com- pared with which nervous acts accompanied by consciousness occupy an enormous length of time. From all this it follows that since every act of consciousness necessarily requires * Pfliiger's " Archiv," viii (187.^, p. 526. The du- ration of reflex actions varies according to the force of the stimulus, and tha direction of the transmission, whether longitudinal or transverse, in the spinal cord. But this question is by no means cleared up. a certain duration, one essential condition of consciousness is wanting whenever the dura- tion of a nervous process falls short of that minimum.* The question of the unconscious is ob- scure and beset with contradictory opinions. simply because it is incorrectly stated. If we look on consciousness as an entity, as a fundamental attribute of the soul, all becomes obscure ; if we consider it as a phenomenon having its own conditions of existence, all becomes clear, and the unconscious is no longer a mystery. We must never forget that a state of consciousness is a complex fact which supposes a special state of the nervous system ; that this nervous action is not a mere accessory bat an integral part of the fact; that it is its base, its fundament- al condition ; that given the nervous action the fact exists in itself ; that, consciousness being added, the fact exists for itself; that consciousness completes it, perfects it, but does not constitute it. If one of the condi- tions of consciousness be wanting, as inten- sity, or duration, or any other unknown to us, then a part of the complex whole—con- sciousness—disappears ; but another part— the nervous process—remains. All that is left of the fact is its purely organic phase. It is not surprising, therefore, if later the re- sults of this cerebral activity turn up ; such activity there was, though it was not noted. Regarded from this point of view, the whole subject of unconscious action loses its mysterious character, and is readily explained, for example, the sudden in-rush of recollec- tions, apparently called up by no association, that occurs daily to every one ; the lessons read by a schoolboy at night, known by heart in the morning ; problems long studied, the solution of which bursts suddenly on the consciousness; poetical, scientific, and me- chanical inventions; secret sympathies, etc Unconscious cerebration does its work noise- lessly, and reduces obscure ideas to order. In a curious case mentioned by Carpenter,! a * The researches as to the duration of psychic acts may throw new light upon certain facts of our men- tal life. Thus they help, I think, to explain the transition from the conscious to the unconscious in habits. An act is at first performed slowly, con- sciously: by repetition it becomes easier and is ex- ecuted more rapidly, i.t., the nervous process which is its basis, finding us course fully traced for it, takes place rapidly and by degrees falls below the minimum duration required for consciousness. t '"Mental Physiology," p. 533. The whole chap- ter xiii contains interesting facts about unconscious cerebration. A mathematician, a friend of the au- thor, had b^en occupied with a geometrical problem, and had had a glimpse of the solution. He reverted to it a«ain and again without success. Many years afterward the solution occurred to him so suddenly that he " trembled as if in the presence of another being who had communicated the secret." If any one would witness the spectacle of a powerful and penetrating mind hampered by a faulty method, he must read Sir William Hamilton's remarkable study of " Lateney," ("Metaphysics," vol. i, lect. xviii). With his theory of the faculties of the soul, and his willful disregard of all physiology, he is unable to escape from any difficulty. THE DISEASES OF MEMORY. [liil] '.) man was vaguely cognizant of the work going on in his brain, without having distinct con- sciousness. "A business man in Boston having an important question under considera- tion, had given it up for the time as too much for him But he was conscious of an action going on in his brain which was so unusual and painful as to excite his apprehensions that he was threatened with palsy, or some- thing of that sort. After some hours of this uneasiness, his perplexity was all at once cleared up by the natural solution of his doubts coming to him—worked out, as he believed in that obscure and troubled inter- val." To sum up, we may regard the nervous system as being traversed by continuous dis- charges. Of these nervous actions some an- swer to the incessant rhythm of the vital activities; others, much fewer in number, to the succession of states of consciousness ; still others, and these are by far more nu- merous, constitute unconscious cerebration. The six hundred (or the twelve hundred) million cells, and the four thousand or five thousand millions of fibers, even allowing for those which are inactive or remain during the whole period of life wichout occupation, offer a considerable contingent of active ele- ments. The brain is a sort of busy work- shop where ten thousand different operations are goin^ on at once. Unconscious cere- bration not being subject to the conditions of time, and taking place so to speak only in space, may act in different places simul- taneously. Consciousness is the narrow wicket through which a very small portion of all this work becomes visible to us. We now see wherein consists the relation of consciousness to the unconscious, and by that very fact we have a definite idea of the relation of psychic to organic memory: the former is only one phase of the latter. In a general sense, what has been said of physio- logical memory applies to conscious memory: there is simply the addition of one factor. Still it will be of advantage to consider the ques- tion anew, and in detail. Here again we have to examine two things, namely the re- sidua and the groups they form. I. The old theories of memory, as they con- templated only its psychological aspects, as- signed for its only basis "vestiges," "traces," "residua," and often erred in employing these terms in an ambiguous sense, signify- ing now material impresses on the brain, again latent modifications retained in the "soul." Those who adopted the latter opin- ion were logical. But this theory, though it numbers man> partisans among those who stand aloof from physiology, is untenable. A state of consciousness that is not consci- ous, a representation that is not represented, is simply a form of speech, and nothing more. To eliminate from a thing that which consti- tutes it what it is, is to reduce it to a simple possibility; that is to say, when the conditions in which it exists reappear, the thing will re- appear too. And this brings us back to what was said above with regard to the un conscious. For us, the question of '' psychological residua" is settled beforehand; for if every state of consciousness implies as an integral part of itself nerve action, and if this nerve action modifies the nerve centers in a perma- nent way then the state of consciousness too is recorded in those centers. True, it may be objected that a state of consciousness im- plies nerve action and something more. That makes little difference. If the original ner- vous state—perception—sufficed to call up this something more, the secondary nervous state — recollection — equally suffices. The conditions are the same in the two cases; and the solution of this difficulty, if solution there be, is incumbent on a theory of perception, not on a theory of memory. We may with Wundt call this psychophy- siological residuum an arrangement, and with him point out wherein it differs from an im- press. "Certain analogies taken from the domain of physiology bring out this differ- ence clearly. In the eye that has been ex- posed to intense light the impression received persists in the shape of a consecutive image. The eye which daily compares and measures distances and relative positions in space be- comes more and more exact. The consecu- tive image is an impress: the accommodation of the eye, its power of measuring distances, is a functional arrangement. The retina and the muscles may be formed in the unpracticed eye just as they are in the practiced, but there is in the latter a far more marked anatomical arrangement than in the former. No doubt we may say that physiological use and work of organs depends less upon their changes properly so-called than on the impresses that persist in their nervous centers; but all phys- iological researches into the phenomena of habit, of adaptation to conditions, etc., show that here too impresses consist essentially of functional arrangements." II. These considerations bring us to the point upon which we desire to lay stress. The dynamic associations of the nerve elements play a still more important part in conscious memory than in organic memory. We might repeat what has been said above; but this side of the question has been so little studied that it is best to consider it again under an- other form. Every one finds in his consciousness a num- ber of recollections: of men, animals, cities, landscapes; facts of science, of history, of language, etc. These recollections recur to us in the shape of series, longer or shorter. The formation of these series has been very well explained by the laws of association be- tween states of consciousness, and to that * " Grundziige der Philosophischen Psychologie," p. 791. 10 [462] THE DISEASES OF MEMORY. explanation we have nothing to add. What interests us is, not the series but the terms of which they are composed. We want to get at the simple state of consciousness, in order to show what complexity it involves. Let us take then one of these terms—the recollection of an apple, for instance. If we are to believe the dictum of consciousness, this is a very simple fact, but physiology shows this to be an error. The recollection of an apple is necessarily the weakened form of the perception of an apple. What does this perception imply? A modification of the retina, which is the nerve terminus of a highly complex structure ; transmission through the optic nerve, and the corpora geniculata to the tubercula quadrigemina; thence to the cerebral ganglia (optic tract?); through the white matter to the cortex. This involves the calling into action of many different elements, lying along an extended route. Yet this is not all. It is not a ques- tion of a mere color-sensation. We see, or think we see the apple as a solid object of spherical form. These judgments result from the exquisite muscular sensibility of our visual organ and from its movements. But the movements of the eye are governed by sundry nerves, as the sympathetic, the oculo- motor communis and the oculo-motor exter- nus. Each of these nerves terminates at a particular point in the medulla, which is itself connected with the cortex of the brain where originate what Maudsley calls the motor in- tuitions. We give only the outlines; for de- tails the reader may consult anatomical and physiological treatises. Thus an idea may be formed of the enormous number of nerve filaments and nerve cells scattered in groups through the different parts of the cerebro- spinal axis, that serve as a basis for the psy- chic state—the recollection of an apple— which by the twofold illusion of language and consciousness we are led to regard as so simple. It will, perhaps, be objected that a visual perception is highly complex, and proves too much in favor of our thesis. Take, then, the recollection of a word. If it be a written word, the recollection is visual, and the case is analogous to the preceding. But if it be a spoken word, the complexity is equally great. Articulate language presupposes the cooperation of the larynx, the pharynx, the mouth, the nasal passages, and consequently of several nerves having their centers in di- vers parts of the medulla, viz.: the spinal, facial and hypoglossal nerves. And if you assign to auditive impressions a place in the recollection of words, the complexity is still greater. Finally, the medullary center must itself be connected with Broca's convolution and the region of the insula, both of which are universally regarded as the psychic center of speech. It is seen that this case differs neither in kind nor in the degree of its com- plexity from the preceding, and that the re- collection of each separate word must have for its basis a definite association of nerve elements.* There is no need to dwell upon this point: from what has been said we see the import- ance of those associations which I shall call the dynamic bases of memory, the modifica- tions impressed upon the elements being the static bases. It will, perhaps, be said that our examples suppose cases simpler still: true, but we need not concern ourselves with them. What memory preserves and repro- duces, is concrete actual states of conscious- ness; we had, therefore, to regard them as such, and to select instances from that order of facts. Physiological analysis and ideo- logical analysis, descending, each from its own side, to the ultimate elements, are of service in explaining the genesis of states of consciousness: but here we consider them as formed. When we are learning to talk, we employ a few simple words: later, we make use of a few phrases. For a long time we know not that these words imply elements simpler still: many men never know it. Now consciousness, which is an inner speech, acts in the same way: that which for it is simple, analysis shows to be complex. But no doubt the simple states that are the alphabet of consciousness, themselves presuppose, for their retention and their reproduction, certain complexes of nerves. The examples already cited with regard to letters and syllables prove this. A still more curious one is cited by Dr. Forbes Winslow: A well-educated man, after an attack of fever and ague, lost all the knowledge of the letter F.f Hence if we would portray to ourselves a good memory and translate that expression into the language of physiology, we should have to picture to ourselves a great many nerve elements, each modified in its own way, each taking part in an association, and, perhaps, adapted to enter into many associa- tions, each association comprising the con- ditions of states of consciousness. The memory thus has static bases and dynamic bases. Its power is in proportion to the number of these and their stability. III. We are now to study the special char- acter of the psychic memory, that which is peculiarly its own, and which, while mak- ing no change in its nature or its organic conditions, constitutes it the highest, the most complex, and the most instable form of memory. This character is, in the language * Forbes Winslow, " On the Obscure Diseases of the Brain, 4th edition, p. 257, mentions the case of a soldier who, having undergone the operation of trephining, lost a portion of his brain. Some time afterward it was noticed that he had forgotten the numbers five and seven, and those only. After a time he recoverrd his memory of these two number* t Op. fit. p. 258. The author does notTell uS whether it was the articulation or the g aphic sign or both, nor whether the patient recovered. THE DISEASES OF MEMORY. [463] 11 of the schools, called recollection. I shall call it Localization in Time, that term im- plying no hypothesis and being simply the expression of the facts. There are few questions that the method of "mental faculties" has so perplexed with difficulties and with far-fetched explanations as this. It will, therefore, be well at the outset briefly to indicate how, from our point of view, the question is stated and how it is settled. Localization in time (for example the recol- lection that such or such an accident befell us at such a time and in such a place) is not a primary act. It supposes, in addition to the principal state of consciousness, second- ary ones varying in number and degree which, being grouped around it, determine it. Perhaps the mechanism of " recollec- tion " is best explained by the mechanism of vision. The distinction between primary and ac- quired visual perceptions has been recognized ever since Berkeley's time. We know that the primary datum of the sensation of sight is a Colored surface; that the secondary data are direction, distance, form, etc.; that the former is dependent above all on the sensi- bility of the retina, while the latter depend mainly on the muscular sensibility of the eye; that by force of habit the primary and ac- quired have become so blended together that they seem to constitute one simple ultimate act, though the opposite is proved by analy- sis, by experiment and by divers patholog- ical cases. So with regard to memory. The primary state of consciousness is originally given as simply existent: the secondary states of consciousness superadded to it, and which consist of relations and judgments, localize it at a certain distance in time, so that memory may be defined seeing in time. This operation which, for clearness' sake we have thus roughly described, must now be studied more closely and in detail. The theoretical explanation of localization in time starts from the law formulated by Dugald Stewart, and so well explained by Taine,* that the acts of the imagination are always accompanied by a belief, at least mo- mentary, in the actual existence of the object to which they relate. This belief, which is most pronounced in hallucination, in vertigo and in dreaming (because there are no actual perceptions to correct it) exists, though in a less degree, with respect to all states of con- sciousness whatever. I say nothing here of the mechanism by which the state of con- sciousness is stripped of its objective reality and reduced to a simple conception of the mind. On this point I refer the reader to the explanations offered by Taine.\ Still this is not a recollection. So long as an image, whatever it may stand for—a house, * " On Intelligence." In this work will be found a collection of facts which leave no doubt on this point. tOp. Cit., particularly Part II, Book i, ch. n. a mechanical invention, or a feeling—remains isolated, and, as it were, suspended in the consciousness, having no relation to other states that for us have a fixed place, and not being localizable by us—we see therein only an actual state of consciousness. But among such images there are some that possess the property, so soon as they enter the conscious- ness, of ramifying in different directions, of reawakening states of consciousness that con- nect them with the present, and thus they oc- cur to us as forming a part of a longer or shorter series terminating in the present. In other words, they are localized in time. I shall not inquire whether it is memory that makes the idea of time possible, or whether it is the idea of time that makes memory possible; neither shall I discuss the question whether time be an a priori form of the mind, nor whether memory be explicable by an empiric genesis. These questions have a place in a critique of knowledge, not in an empiric psychology, which has nothing to do with these critical or ontological dis- cussions; it ascertains as a fact that time im- plies memory, and that memory implies time, and is content. This conceded, how do we localize in time ? Theoretically, only one course is open to us. We determine positions in time, as we do positions in space, by referring to a fixed point, and as regards time, this fixed point is the present moment. We may ob- serve that this present moment is a real state, having its duration-quantity. Brief as it is, it is not, as the metaphors of ordinary lan- guage would have it, a flash, a nothing, an abstraction, like a mathematical point: it has a beginning and an ending. Further, ij2 beginning does not appear to us as an abso- lute beginning: it is in contact with some- thing with which it is continuous. When we read or hear a sentence, there remains at.the utterance of the fifth word, for example, something of the fourth. Each state of con- sciousness is effaced only by degrees; it leaves a trail like what, in physiological op- tics, is called the consecutive image (after- sensation, Nachempfndung). Thus, then, the fourth and the fifth words are continuous —the end of one being in contact with the beginning of the other. This is the main point. There is a contiguity, not indefinite, meaning that any two ends are in contact, but such a contiguity that the beginning of the actual state of consciousness is in contact with the ending of the state that preceded it. This simple fact once clearly apprehended. we have the theoretical mechanism of locali- zation in time, for it is plain that the retro- grade movement may also be made from the fourth word to the third, and so on; and that each state of consciousness having its own duration-quantity, the number of states of consciousness thus traversed regressively, and their duration-quantities give the position of any given state relatively to the present 12 [464] THE DISEASES OF MEMORY. moment—its distance in time. Such is the theoretical mechanism of localization; a re- trogression which, starting from the pres- ent, traverses a longer or shorter series of terms. Practically, we have recourse to simpler and more expeditious processes. We very rarely perform this retrogression through all of the intermediate terms of the series, sel- dom even through the greater part of them. We simplify the operation by the employment of reference points. 'I take a familiar example to illustrate: On the 30th of November I am expecting a book I greatly need. It comes from a distance, and cannot arrive in less than twenty days from the time of ordering it. Did I order it early enough ? After trying in many ways to fix the date, I remember that I ordered the book on the day before I set out on a little journey, and the date of that I can determine precisely as Sunday, November 9th. The recollection is now perfect. If we analyze this case, we shall see that the principal state of consciousness—ordering the book—was at first something referred indefinitely to the past. It calls up secondary states, and com- pared with these, it is seen to precede some, to be subsequent to others. "The image," says Taine, "glides to and fro on the line of the past; each of the phrases pronounced mentally has given it a new oscillation."* At last it finds its place; it is now fixed, known. In this illustration the recollection of the jour- ney is what 1 call a reference point. By ref- erence point I mean any occurrence, any state of consciousness whose position in time we know, i. e., its distance with respect to the present moment, and which serves as a measure of other distances in time. These reference points are states of consciousness which, from their intensity, withstand oblivion better than others, or which from their com- plexity are adapted to call up many associa tions and to increase the chances of revivis- cence. They are not selected arbitrarily, but force themselves upon us. Their value is purely relative. They retain this character for a day, a week, a month; but then, not coming into use, they are forgotten. As a rule they are purely individual in character, though some of them are common to a family, to a small community, to a nation. If I am not mistaken, they constitute for each indi- vidual different series answering pretty close- ly to the different occurrences that make up his life—his daily occupations, family events, professional occupations, scientific researches, etc., these series being more numerous in proportion as the life of the individual is more diversified. These reference points are like milestones set up on highways which, starting from one point diverge in various directions. But they possess this peculiarity, •Taine, "On Intelligence," Part II, Book 1, ch. II, § vi. A good analysis of this mental operation is given by Taine. that these series may, as it were, come into juxtaposition so as to be compared. We have now to show how these reference points enable us to simplify the mechanism of localization. The event, which we call a reference point since, according to the hy- pothesis, it comes very often into conscious- ness, is very often compared to the present as regards its position in time—in other words, the states intermediate between the two and separating them, are called up with greater or less distinctness. The result is that the position of the reference point is, or seems to be (and we shall later see that every recollection implies an illusion) better and better known. By repetition this localization becomes immediate, instantane- ous, automatic. It is like the forming of a habit. The intermediate points disappear, being of no use: the series is reduced to two terms, and these two terms suffice, because their distance from each other in time is known. Were it not for this short cut, the vast number of intermediate terms being dis- regarded, localization in time would be a very lengthy and difficult process, restricted within narrow limits. But by the aid of this, so soon as an image appears, its primary lo- calization is instantaneous: it stands between two fixed points, namely, the present moment and some reference point. The operation is completed after a few trials, and is often laborious, and fruitless, and perhaps never precise. If the reader will examine his own recol- lections, he will, 1 think, raise no serious ob- jection to what has just been said. Further, he will observe how close is the resemblance between the process here employed, and that whereby we localize objects in space. In the latter case also we have reference points, short cuts, and distances fully ascertained, which we employ as units of measurement. A few words may also be devoted, not without profit, to showing that localiza- tion in the future is effected by a similar process. Our knowledge of the future can- not be anything but a repetition of the past. Here I find only two categories of facts. They are either a mere reproduction of what has already occurred at similar epochs in the same places, under the same circumstances; or they consist of inductions, deductions and conclusions drawn from the past, but pro- duced by the logical working of the mind. Outside of these two categories everything is possible, but everything is unknown. Plainly the first of these classes of facts is the one that most closely resembles memory, for it involves simply the reproduction of what has been. Suppose a man has been wont every year to pass the month of Sep- tember in a country house. In the depth of winter he sees it with its surroundings, its inmates, its daily routine. The image is at first indeterminate: it belongs equally to the past and to the future. First, it separates THE DISEASES OF MEMORY. [465] 13 itself from the present: then it glides past winter, spring and summer; at last it becomes localized. The course of the year, with its succession of seasons, holidays, changes of occupation, supplies reference points. This process differs from memory only in one re- spect, namely, that here we pass from the terminal limit of the present, to the initial limit of the following state: we do not pro- ceed, as in recollecting, from the beginning of one state of consciousness to the end- ing of another, but from an ending to a beginning. In this unchanging order we traverse, theoretically, all the intermediate states of consciousness, but practically we traverse only a few landmarks. The process is accordingly the same as in memory, only it works in the reverse direction. In short, setting aside verbal explanations, we find that " recollection " is no " faculty" at all but a fact, and that this fact is the re- sult of a sum of conditions. Hence, "re- collection "—localization in time—varies with these conditions through all possible grades. In the highest grade are the reference points; next below these are vivid, well defined re- collections, referred to their place in time past almost as quickly; then those that in- volve some hesitation, and require an appre-. ciable time; lower still, labored recollections that take definite shape only after effort and resort to stratagem; last of all come those cases where all effort fails, and our indecision is expressed in such phrases as, '' It seems to me that I have seen this form;" "have I seen this in a dream?" One step further, and localization fails altogether: the image, stript of its defining circumstances possesses nothing by which it can be definitely referred to any fixed time. There are many examples of this last case and they are to be found where we should least expect them. From the effects of disease or of old age, cele- brated authors sometimes foiget their own writings. Linne, toward the close of his life, took pleasure in reading his own works, and would exclaim, as he read, forgetting that he was himself the author: " Beautiful! I wish I had written that." The like is told of Newton and the discovery of the differ- ential calculus. Walter Scott as he grew old was subject to this kind of forgetfulness. One day a poem was read to him which gave him pleasure, and he asked who was the author. It was a canto from his "Pirate." Ballantyne, who was his secretary and who wrote his life, relates in minute detail how the greater part of " Ivanhoe" was dictated during a painful illness. It was completed and published before its author had quit his bed. He had no recollections of it beyond the central idea of the story, which had ante- dated his illness. In a case cited by Forbes Winslow, the image seems to be just on the point of being recognized, localized, but it falls short : "The poet Rogers, when ninety years of I age, was out driving with a lady. She in- quired of him about another lady whom he could not recollect. He pulled the check- string and appealed to his servant. ' Do I know Lady M.?' The reply was 'Yes sir.' This was a painful moment to us both. Tak- ing my hand, he said: ' Never mind, my dear. I am not yet compelled to stop the carriage and ask if I know you.' " * A much more instructive instance is re- corded by Macaulay in his essay on Wycher- ley. Wycherley's memory, says he, was, toward the end of his life, at once exceed- ingly strong and exceedingly weak. If any- thing was read to him in the evening he would awake the next morning, his mind full of the ideas and the expressions heard the night before. He would write them out in perfect good faith, not doubting that they were his own. Here the mechanism of memory is plainly cut in twain, and pathology gives us its analysis. Interpreting this case according to the principles stated above, we should say : the modification impressed upon the brain-cells persisted ; the dynamic associ- ations of the nervous elements remained stable ; the state of consciousness attaching to each was awakened ; these several states of consciousness were again associated and again formed into series (sentences or verses). But there the mental operations suddenly stopped. These series did not awaken any secondary state ; they remained isolated, without any relation to the present, without anything to fix their place in time. They re- mained as mental images, and they appeared new, because no concomitant state impressed on them the stamp of the past. So far is localization in time from being a simple, primary, instantaneous act, that very often it requires a measurable interval even for consciousness. Where it appears to be instantaneous its rapidity is a result of habit. The eye, too, judges of the distance of objects, and it is probable that for nascent memory, as for nascent vision, localization is never instantaneous.f Thus then we have discovered in the high- est form of memory only one new operation— localization in time. We have now in con- clusion to show the relatively illusory char- acter of this operation. * Laycock, " Personal and Organic Memory-" Car- penter, op. cit., p. 444; Ballantyne, "Life of Walter Scott"; Spring, " Symptomatologie," vol. 11, p. 530; Forbes Winslow, op. cit, p. 247. + Note also what happens when events are many times repeated. I have made the journey from Paris to Brest a hundred times. The impressions of all these journeys overlie each other in my mind, forming a confused mass; properly speaking they constitute one vague image. Among them all, the journeys that are associated with some important event, whether fortunate or unfortunate, alone occur to me as recol- lections: only those which awaken secondary states of consciousness are localized in the mind, are recog- nized. The reader will observe that our explanation of the mechanism of "recollections" agrees with that given in Taine's " Intelligence," Part 2, Book 1, chap 11, § 6. 14 [466] THE DISEASES OF MEMORY. As I write I have a very vivid recollection of a vis 11 made a year ago to an old castle in Boftemia. The visit lasted two hours. To-d&j, I easily make it over again in imagin- ation : I enter at the great doorway, I pass in due order through the courts, corridors, halls and chapels as they rise story above story: I see again their frescoes and their decorations just as they are ; I make my way fairly through this labyrinth of an old castle down to the moment o/ leaving, but I am unable to fancy the duration of this imaginary visit as equal in length to the two hours this moment just elapsed. It seems much shorter, and the difference would be much greater if the two hours just past had been spent in an- other visit of the same kind, or in some agreeable company. If we declare the two periods to be of equal length we do so on the evidence of time-pieces and in disregard of the evidence of our consciousness. Every recollection, however distinct, suf- fers an enormous amount of abridgement: this fact is indisputable and has no exceptions. Scientific experiments in very simple cases, where the chances of error are inconsiderable, confirm this law. Vierordt has proved that if we try to imagine fractions of a second of time, our idea of any given fraction is always too large: the reverse holds when there is question of several minutes or several hours. In order to study the duration of these small intervals, he had the beats of a metronome noted for some time by a person who was re- quired afterward to repeat the beats with the same rapidity. In the repetition the in- terval between the beats was too long when the original interval was short, and too short when the original interval was long.* In proportion to the complexity of the states of consciousness the error increases. And what adds to the difficulty is the fact that this does not take place according to any appreciable law. It cannot be said to be in proportion to the length of time that may have elapsed; indeed we may assert the contrary. If I were to represent the last ten years of my life by a line one meter in length, the year just past would occupy three or four tenths of that line; the fifth, which was crowded with events, would take two-tenths; the oth;r eight would be compressed within the remainder. The same illusion is seen in history. Some centuries appear longer than others, and if I am not mistaken, the period from our day back to the taking of Constantinople seems longer than the period from that event back to the first crusade, though the two periods are very nearly equal in length of time. This probably results from the fact that the former ♦Vierordt," Der Zeitsinn nach Versuchen," 3(5— n 1. H. Weber, "Tastsinn^ und Gemeingefuhl," 87, has made analogous experiments on visual perceptions. See also " Handbuch der Physiologie'' (,1879), edited by Hermann, vol. II. part 2, p. 282. --- period is better known to us, and that in it our own recollections are involved. As the present merges into the past, our states of consciousness disappear and are obliterated. Reviewed after the lapse of a few days, little or nothing of these remains ; most of them have vanished into nothing- ness, never to be recalled, and they have taken with them the quantity of duration in- herent in them ; consequently an effacement of states of consciousness is an effacement of time. Nowthe " short cuts"processes already spoken of presuppose this effacement. If, in order to recollect something in the distant past we had to go over the whole series of terms between now and then, memory were impossible, owing to the length of time the operation would require.* Thus we reach the paradoxical result that forgetfulness is a condition of memory. Were it not for our totally forgrettingavast number of states of consciousness and momentarily forgetting a great many, we could not re- collect anything. Forgetfulness therefore is not, except in certain cases, a disease of memory, but rather one condition of its healthful action and of its life. In this we find a striking analogy with the two great vital processes. To live is to gain and to lose; life consists as much in the work that eliminates as in that which assimilates. For- getfulness is elimination. A second result (and this brings us back again to the functions of vision) is that our" knowledge of the past is like a painting with perspective reaching far into the distance, at once deceptive and true, for its truth is based on illusion. If on an hypothesis that never will be realized we could compare our actual past as it was, set objectively before us, with the subjective representation of the same furnished to us by memory, we should see that this copy is constructed on a particular sys- tem of projection ; each of us readily finds his bearings in this system, for it is of his own making. IV. Thus we have reached, step by step, the highest development of memory ; we will now follow the inverse order and come again back to our starting-point. This return is necessary, in order to show a second time that memory is a process of organization in *Abercrombie, in his " Intellectual Powers," men- tions a circumstance which confirms what is here said : " The late Dr. Leyden was remarkable for his memory. I am informed, through a gentlemen who was intimately acquainted with him, that he could repeat correctly a long Act of Parliament, or any similar document, after having once read it When he was, on one occasion, congratulated by a friend for his remarkable power in this respect, he replied that, instead of an advantage, it was often a source of great inconvenience. This he explained by savin* that, when he wished to recollect any particular point in anything which he had read, he could do it only by repeating to himself the whole from the com- mencement til he reached the point which he wished to recall." - _ u" THE DISEASES OF MEMORY. [467] 15 varying degrees between two extreme limits, namely, a new state and organic registration. There is no form of mental activity that bears witness more effectively in favor of the theory of evolution: from that point of view, and from that alone, can we understand the nature of memory; and it is seen that the study of memory must be not only a study in physiology, but also in morphology, i. e. a history of its transformations. Let us then take up the question where we left it. A new mental acquisition more or less complex is revived for the first or for the second time. Such recollections are the most instable of the elements of memory—so in- stable that many of them vanish for good; such are most of the occurrences that happen to us daily and hourly. However clear, however intense, they have a minimum of organization. But every time they return to the mind, whether voluntarily or involuntarily, they gain in stability—their tendency to be- come organized grows stronger. Below this group of fully conscious and unorganized recollections stands the group of conscious and semi-organized recollections; for example a language we are by degrees learn- ing, a scientific theory or a handicraft that we have only half mastered. Here the strongly individual character of the first group disappears, and the recollection be- comes more and more impersonal—becomes objective. The localization in time disap- pears, being useless. Here and there a few isolated terms carry with them personal im- pressions which localize them. I remember having learned such a German or English word in such a town, or under such circum- stances. It is a survival, a work of a prior state, an original impress. Little by little it is effaced, and the term assumes the same commonplace and impersonal character as all other terms. This knowledge of a science, a language, a handicraft becomes more and more rooted. It retreats by degrees from the psychic sphere, and becomes more and more like an organic memory. Such, in the case of an adult per- son, is his memory of his mother tongue. One step lower, and we come to memory completely organized and nearly unconscious, as seen in the clever musician, the skilled mechanic, the accomplished danseuse. Never- theless, all this was once memory in the strict and ordinary sense of the word—fully conscious memory. We may go lower still. The exercise of every one of our senses (of sight, of touch ; in walking, etc.), presupposes a completely organized memory ; but so incorporated is it in our nature that most persons never sus- pect it to be acquired. The same can be said of many of our habitual judgments. No one remembers that the object at which he is looking has an opposite side; or that a cer- tain modification of the visual impression implies a certain distance; or that a certain motion of the legs will move him forward; or that the thing which he sees moving about is a. live animal. It would be thought a misuse of language were anyone to ask another whether he remembered that the sun shines, that fire burns, that iron is hard, and that ice is cold.* Nevertheless, all this, we repeat, was once memory in the strict sense, in a nascent in- telligence. It is not necessary to add that the forego- ing is a purely ideal sketch, a schematism. It were vain to endeavor to define with pre- cision the several stages of an evolution that proceeds by infinitesimal transitions varying according to the individual. Can we go further still ? We might. Be- low the composite reflex actions which repre- sent organic memory in its lowest phase we have simple reflex actions. We may conceive the latter—which are the result of a congen- ital anatomical arrangement—as being them- selves acquired and made fixed by innumera- ble experiences in the course of the evolution of species. Thus we should pass from the memory of the individual organism (individ- ual memory) to heredity, which is the mem- ory of the species {specif c memory). It is enough to simply refer to this hypothesis. In fine it is impossible to say where mem- ory, whether psychic or organic, ends. That which we designate by the collective name, ,1 memory, comprises series exhibiting all de- [ grees of organization, from the nascent to the perfect state. There is incessant transi- tion from the stable to the instable; from the state of consciousness, where acquisition is precarious, to the organic state, where ac- quisition is assured. In consequence of this steady tendency toward organization, a degree of*simplificatior». and order is giuen to the contents of memory which makes a higher form of thought possible. But the tendency to organization, left to itself, without a check, would tend to the progressive annihilation of consciousness; would reduce man to an automaton. Suppose—though the hypothesis is one that cannot be realized—suppose an adult human being placed in such conditions that he has no more new states of consciousness— no new sensations, ideas, concepts, senti- ments, or desires: the different series of states of consciousness which constitute each form of psychic activity would at last be- come so well organized as to make him a hardly conscious automaton. Narrow minds that always move in the same ruts reduce this hypothesis to a reality in some degree. Restricted within a narrow sphere, they have very little contact with what is new and strange, and hence tend toward the state of perfect stability; they become mere machines; so far as the greater part of their life is con- cerned, consciousness is superfluous. * Herbert Spencer, "Psychology," Part IV.. iA. vi., J 192. 16 [468) THE DISEASES OF Mr.MORY, Having considered the subject in all its aspects, we revert to the proposition stated at the outset, viz.: conscious memory is only a special phase of biological memory. We may now, by recourse to another class of con- siderations, show once more that memory is subject to the fundamental conditions of life. All forms of memory, from the highest to the lowest,have for their groundwork dynamic associations between the nerve elements, and special modifications of these elements, at least of the cells. These modifications, re- sulting from a first impression, are retained by no inert matter—they do not resemble the impress of a seal on wax. They are im- pressed upon living matter. Now all living tissues are ever in process of molecular re- newal, nerve tissue more than any other, and in nerve tissue the grey substance more than the white, as is proved by the extraordinary abundance of bloodvessels pervading it. Now, since the modifications persist, it fol- lows that the arrangement of the molecules of new-formed tissue must exactly reproduce the type of the effete molecules to which they succeed. Memory is directly dependent on nutrition. But not only have these cells the property of self-nutrition: they also possess, at least during a portion of their life, the power of reproduction, and we shall later see how this fact accounts for certain cases of the re- establishment of memory. All physiologists hold this reproduction to be simply a form of nutrition: therefore the basis of memory is nutrition—the vital process par excellence. For the present I will not dwell upon this point. After we have considered the disor- ders of memory, its exalted and its depressed states, its momentary suspension, its eclipse and sudden return, its progressive impair- ment, we may return to the question with advantage: the capital importance of nutri- tion will then be self evident. Hitherto we have been occupied with the preliminaries of our subject—memory in its healthy state; it is time to study it in the morbid state. The pathology of memory is the complement of its physiology; we shall see whether it lends confirmation to it. CHAPTER II. GENERAL AMNESIA. Classification of the diseases oj memory— Tem- porary amnesia— Epileptics—Forgetfulness of certain periods of life—Examples of re- education—Slow and sudden recoveries— Case of provisional memory—Periodical or intermittent amnesia—Formation of two memories, totally or partially distinct— Cases of hypnotism recorded by Macnish, Azam and Dufay—Progressive amnesia— Its importance; reveals the law which gov- err.s :>ie destruction of memory—[.aw of re- gression; enunciation of this law—In what order memory fails—Counter-proof'; it is reconstituted in inverse order—Confirmatory facts—Congenital amnesia—Extraordinary memory of some idiots. Material for the study of the diseases of memory exists in abundance. It is found scattered through medical works, treatises on mental diseases, and the writings of divers psychologists. It may be brought togethe r without overmuch labor, and then we have at hand a sufficient store of observations. The difficulty is to classify, to interpret, to draw conclusions as to the mechanism of memory. In this respect the facts gleaned are of very unequal worth; the most extraordinary ones are not the most instructive. The physicians to whom we are indebted for most of them have described and studied them almost exclusively with reference to their own art. In their eyes a disorder of memory is but a symptom, and they note it as such; it is of use as a guide in diagnosis or prognosis. So with regard to classification; they content them- selves with a reference of each case of amne- ria to the morbid state whose effect it is— brain softening, hemorrhage, concussion, in- toxication, etc. For our purpose, on the other hand, the diseases of memory must be studied in them- selves as morbid psychic states which may enable us the better to understand the nor- mal state. As for classification we must needs ground it upon likenesses and differ- ences. The subject has not yet been suffi- - ciently studied to attempt a natural classifica- tion, i. e., by causes. I would therefore remark that the classification here offered is designed simply for the purpose of reducing to some- thing like order a confused and heterogeneous mass of facts; that in many respects it is arbitrary, I am free to confess. Disorders of memory may be restricted to one single class of recollections, all the rest remaining intact, at least apparently; these are partial disor- ders. Others, on the contrary, affect the entire memory in all its forms; cut the mental life in twain or break it up into many frag- ments; produce chasms that cannot be filled, or destroy it utterly by agencies that work step by step. We thus recognize, in the first place, twi great classes, the general and the partial dis- eases of memory. We propose to consider them under the following heads : i. Tempo- rary Amnesia; 2. Periodic Amnesia ; 3. Progressive Amnesia, least curious of all, but most instructive; 4. Congenital Amnesia. I. Temporary amnesia usually comes sud- denly and disappears in the same way. It lasts for a period of time that may vary from five minutes to years. The briefest and clearest cases, as also the most common, occur in epilepsy. THE DISEASES OF MEMORY. [469] " Physicians are not agreed either as to the nature, the seat or the causes of this disease. The problem does not belong to our subject, nor is it within our province. Suffice it to say that authors with one accord recognize three forms of the disease: "grand mal," " petit mal," and vertigo ; that they regard these less as distinct varieties than as degrees of the same morbid state ; finally, that the milder the disease in its external manifesta- tion, the graver its effects on the mind. The fit is succeeded by mental derangement which may betray itself by oddities and absurd acts, or by crimes. All these acts possess a common character called by Hughlings Jack- son mental automatism. They leave no re- collection, save in rare cases, where a few faint traces of memory remain. A patient while advising with his physician is seized with epileptic vertigo. He recovers immediately, but forgets that he paid the fee a moment before the attack.* A clerk finds himself seated at his desk, his thoughts slightly confused, but otherwise without ail- ment. He remembers having ordered dinner at a restaurant, but from that moment for- ward he has no recollection of anything. He goes back to the restaurant, and there learns that he has eaten dinner and paid the bill, and that he left for his office without appear- ing to be ill. In this instance memory was in abeyance for about three quarters of an hour. Another epileptic, seized with a fit in a shop, falls to the floor, rises again, and runs away leaving behind his hat and note- book. '' I was found," said he " a quarter of a mile away; I inquired for my hat in all the shops, but I was unconscious of what I was doing, and did not come to myself again till ten minutes later, when I reached the rail- road." Trousseau relates the case of a magistrate who, while attending a meeting of a learned society in the Hotel de Ville, Paris, went out bare-headed, walked as far as the Quai, and returned to his place to join in the discussions, without any recollection of what he had done. Oftentimes the patient keeps on perform- ing, during the period of automatism the acts in which he may have been engaged at the moment of the attack, or he comments upon something he may have been reading. Instances of this were given in the preceding chapter. Nothing is more common than un- availing attempts at suicide, but when the fit of epileptic vertigo has passed there is no recol- lection of them whatever. The same is true with regard to criminal attempts. A shoe- maker seized with epileptic mania on his wed- ding day, killed his father-in-law by stabbing him with his knife. Coming to his senses a * The facts here cited are taken for the most part from a memoir by Dr. H. Jackson, published in the West Riding Asylum Review, and from an article by Falret on the mental state of epileptics, in the Archives de Midecine, December, i860, April and October, 1861. few days afterward, he hail not the faintest suspicion of what he had Jone. From these examples the reader may get a better understanding of the nature of epi- leptic amnesia than from any general de- scription of it. A certain period of mental activity is as though it had never been. The epileptic knows of it only from the testi- mony of others, or from vague conjectures. Such is the fact. As for its psychological interpretation, there are two possible hy- potheses. Either (1) the period of mental automatism was unaccompanied by consciousness, and in that case the amnesia needs no explanation, for as nothing was produced, so nothing can be retained or reproduced ; or (2) there was con- sciousness, but so faint that amnesia ensues. This second hypothesis I believe to be the true one in a great many instances. In the first place, as a matter simply of re~ soning, it is difficult to see how very complex acts adapted to different ends can be per- formed without some measure of conscious- ness at least intermittent. Be the force of habit as great as you please, it must for all that be remembered that it where uniformity of ac- tion exists consciousness tends to disappear; on the other hand, it tends to manifest itself wherever there is diversity of action. But reasoning can give only possibilities; experience alone is decisive. Now there are facts which go to prove the existence of a certain measure of consciousness even in the exceedingly numerous cases where the epi- leptic retains no remembrance of his parox- ysm. " Some epileptics, on being questioned abruptly and in a commanding tone, reply in a low and plaintive voice. When the attack has passed, they recollect neither what has been said to them nor what they have themselves answered. ... A child, forced during an at tack to inhale ether or ammonia, the odor of which was to it unbearable, would angrily cry out, ' go away, go away!' When the fit was over, the patient had no recollec- tion of these occurrences. . . . Some- times epileptics contrive, after much effort, to recall sundry occurrences that took place during the paroxysms, particularly those of the last few moments of the seizure. In that case they are in a situa- tion comparable to that of one awakening out of a distressing dream. At first the main circumstances of the attack escape them, and they disclaim all knowledge of the acts im- puted to them; but little by little they recall sundry details which at first they seemed to have forgotten,"* If in these cases circumstances go to prove that consciousness existed, it is not rash to assert its existence in many other cases. Still I do not mean to assert that this holds for all cases. The magistrate mentioned above di- rected his steps with sufficient discretion to ♦Trousseau, " Lecons Cliniques." Vol. II.; p. 114. 38 [470] THE DISEASES OF MEMORY. lent in every way. After a brief period of quiet, he falls during the night into alcoholic delirium, which is characterized by frightful visions. Next day, coming to himself, he distinctly recollects the delirium of the night before, but has no remembrance of the de- lirium of the preceding day. There is still another difficulty. If the amnesia is due to the weakness of the pri- J mary states of consciousness, how comes it that these faint states of consciousness deter- mine the patient to acts ? According to Hughlings Jackson, "mental automatism re- sults from over action of low nervous centers, 'j because the highest or controlling centers have been put out of use." We have here only an illustration of a well-known physio logical law, viz., that the excito-motor power of the reflex centers increases when their connection with the superior centers is broken.* Let us consider only the psychological '* problem : a solution of that is possible. If we insist on making consciousness a " force" self-existent and self-acting, everything be- comes obscure. But if we hold, as was ex- \ plained in the preceding chapter, that con- sciousness is a concomitant of a nervous state, and that this nervous state is the fun- damental element, all becomes clear. At least it is no contradiction to say that a ner- vous state sufficient to determine certain acts is insufficient to awaken consciousness. To produce a movement and to produce a state of consciousness are two distinct and inde- pendent facts; the conditions of the one are not those of the other. In conclusion, we may note that the in- evitable consequence of repeated epileptic seizures, especially those of epileptic vertigo, is a progressive weakening of memory in its entirety. We shall later study this form of , amnesia. We new pass to cases of temporary amne- sia of a destructive character. In the ex- amples already cited, the capital accumulated down to the moment of the seizure is not im- paired; the only effect is that something that was in the consciousness does not remain in the memory. In the examples which follow, a part of the capital is lost. Such cases make most impression on the imagination. ,! Possibly some day, as physiology and psychol- ogy advance, they will from these cases teach us much regarding the nature of mem- i ory; just now these facts are not the most instructive—at least, in my estimation, what- \ ever they may disclose to others. These cases differ widely from one anoth- er. Sometimes the suspension of memory avoid obstacles, vehicles and passers-by, and this indicates a certain consciousness ; but in a similar case mentioned by Hughlings Jack- son, the patient was thrown down by an om- nibus, and on another occasion came near falling into the Thames. How then are we to explain amnesia in cases where consciousness exists? By the extreme feebleness of the states of conscious- ness. There are only two means of giving fixity to a state of consciousness, viz.: inten- sity and repetition. The latter is reducible to the former, for repetition is a sum of lesser intensities. Here there is neither intensity nor repetition. The mental disturbance which follows the paroxysm is very well defined by Jackson when he calls it "an epileptic dream." One of his patients, nineteen years of age, and a person very unlikely to dogmatize on the subject, of his own accord hit upon the same expression. " Last time he had a fit and went to bed, ana when in bed said, ' Wait a bit, Bill, I am coming.' He went down stairs; he unbolted the doors, and went out in his night-shirt. He came to himself just as he was stepping on the cold stones, and then his father touched him. He said he had had a dream. ' It'.s all right, / have had a dream!"' In order to proceed from the known to the unknown, let us compare the mental state of epileptics with that of a dreamer. Dreams, of which all recollection disappears instantly, are very common. We awake in the night out of a dream; the recollection of the inter- rupted dream is very clear; next morning not a trace remains. Who is there who has not tried over and over, in vain, to recall some dream of the previous night, of which he re- members nothing, except that he has had a dream ? The explanation is simple. The states of consciousness that make up a dream are ex- tremely faint. They appear to be strong, not because they really are so, but because there is no strong state of consciousness to force them into the background. So soon as the waking state begins again everything re- sumes its own place. Images fade away in the presence of sense perceptions, these in the presence of a state of fixed attention, and this in the presence of a fixed idea. In short, consciousness during dreams has a minimum intensity. Hence the difficulty is to explain why, dur- ing the period following an epileptic seizure, consciousness falls to a minimum. Neither physiology nor psychology can explain it, for neither science knows anything about the conditions of the genesis of consciousness The problem is the more embarrassing be- cause amnesia attaches to the delirium of ep- ilepsy and to that delirium only, as we see in the case of those who are both epileptics and victims of alcoholism. A patient is seized with an epileptic fit during the day; he smashes .everything within reach, and is vio- * A highly important character of epileptic mania, says Falret, loc. cit., "is the absolute like- ness of all the attacks in the same patient, not only their likeness as a whole, but in every detail. The same patient expresses the same thoughts, utters the same words, performs the same acts. There is a sur- prising uniformity in all the paroxysms. THE DISEASES OF MEMORY. [471] 19 begins at the onset of the disease, covering events that happen thereafter; again, it covers the events occurring just previous to the seizure; generally it extends in both direc- tions, both to the time before and the time after the attack. Sometimes memory re- turns spontaneously, suddenly; sometimes slowly and with some little assistance; some- times the loss of memory is total and the patient has to learn everything over again. We will present instances of all these differ- ent phases. " A young woman, wedded to a man she loved passionately, was seized in child-bed with a long syncope, at the termination of which it was found that she had lost all mem- ory of the time after and including her mar- riage. All the rest of- her life down to that moment she remembered quite distinctly. At first she repelled her husband and her child, when presented to her. She never was able to regain the memory of that period of her life, nor of the events belonging to it. Her relatives and friends succeeded, by reasoning with her and by the force of their testimony, in persuading her that she had been married, and was a mother. She credited them, pre- ferring to believe that she had lost the mem- ory of a year, rather than to hold them all to be impostors. But her own convictions, her own inmost consciousness had no part in this. She saw before her her husband and her infant, but could not imagine by what magic she had won the one or given birth to the other."* Here we see an instance of incurable am- nesia, extending only backward in time. As for its psychological explanation, that is to be found in the destruction of the residua and the impossibility of their reproduction. In the following case, reported by Laycock, the amnesia extends forward only, and hence is to be attributed only to the fact that the states of consciousness cannot be registered and preserved. The engineer of a steamship had a fall upon his back, striking the back of his head against some hard object. For a while he lay unconscious. Coming to himself, he soon regained perfect physical health; he retained recollection of all the years pre- ceding the accident, but from that moment .forward memory no longer existed, even concerning facts strictly personal. On reaching the hospital he could not say whether he had come afoot, in a carriage or by railroad. On leaving the dinner table he forgot that he had taken that meal; he had no idea what hour, or day, or week it might be. He would strive to reflect so as to answer questions, but in vain. His speech was slow, but his language was cor- rect. He says what he intends to say, and he reads correctly. This infirmity of mem- » " Lettre de Charles Villiers a G. Cuvier." (Paris; Lenormant, 180a). ory gave way before suitable medical treat- ment.* As a general rule, in cases of temporary amnesia, due to concussion of the brain, a retroactive effect is produced. The patient, on returning to consciousness, is found not only to have lost the recollection of the acci- dent and the period succeeding it, but also to have forgotten a longer or shorter period prior to it. Many instances might be quoted in confirmation of this; I will cite only one, mentioned by Carpenter, f A Mr. H. " was driving his wife and child in a phaeton, when the horse took fright and ran away; and, all attempts to pull him in being unsuccessful, the phaeton was at last violently dashed against a wall, and Mr. H. was thrown out, sustaining a severe concus- sion of the brain. On recovering, he found that he had forgotten the immediate antece- dents of the accident; the last thing he remem- bered being that he had met an acquaintance on the road, about two miles from the scene of it. Of the efforts he had made and the terror of his wife and child he has not to this day any recollection whatever." We next give some cases of amnesia of a far more serious character, some of them ne- cessitating a complete re-education: I take them from the English magazine, "Brain." The first observation, reported by Dr. Mortimer Granville, was made in the case of a hysterical woman twenty-six years of age, who, after over-exerting herself, was seized with a violent fit, accompanied with total loss of consciousness. " When consciousness be- gan to return, the latest sane ideas formed previous to the illness mingled curiously with the new impressions received, as in the case of a person awakening slowly from a dream. When propped up with pillows in bed near the window, so that persons in the street could be seen, the patient described the mov- ing objects as 'trees walking'; and when asked where she saw these things, she in- variably replied, 'in the other Gospel.' In short, her mental slate was one in which the real and ideal were not separable. Her re- collections on recovery, and for some time afterward, were indistinct, and, in regard to a large class of common topics which must have formed the staple material of thought up to the period of the attack, memory was blank. Special subjects of thought imme- diately anterior to the malady seemed to have saturated the mind so completely that the early impressions received after recovery com- menced were imbued with them, while the cerebral record of penultimate brain-work in the life before the morbid state, was, as it were, obliterated. For example, although this young woman had supported herself by daily duty as a governess she had no recol- lection of so simple a matter as the use of a * Laycock, on " Certaia Disorders and Defects of Memory." Page 12. t Op. Cit., p. 450. 20 [472] THE DISEASES OF MEMORY. writing implement. When a pen or pencil was placed in her hand, as it might be thrust between the fingers of a child, the act of grasping it was not excited, even reflexly; the touch or sight of the instrument awoke no association of ideas. The most perfect de- struction of brain-tissue could not more com- pletely have effaced the constructive effect of education and habit on the cerebral elements. This state lasted some weeks."* Memory of what had been forgotten was recovered slow- ly, painfully, though there was no necessity for so complete a re-education as in the next case. The second observation, which we owe to Professor Sharpey, furnishes one of the most curious instances of re-education ever re- corded. I take from his long article only the psychological details. Here, too, the subject was a woman twenty-four years of age, and of delicate constitution, who for some six weeks suffered from an irresistible tendency to fall asleep. This condition grew more pronounced from day to day. About June 10 it was impossible to awaken her. She continued thus for two months. She was fed with a spoon, and swallowed the food: when she had had enough, she closed her teeth and turned her mouth away. She appeared to distinguish flavors, for she steadily refused certain kinds of food. At long intervals she had brief moments of waking. . She answered no questions and recognized nobody, save once when she recognized "an old acquaint- ance, whom she had not seen for more than twelve months. She looked steadfastly in this person's face for a few seconds, appar- ently occupied in trying to remember his name, which at length she found out and re- peated again and again, at the same time taking him by the hand as if overjoyed to see him. She then again fell into her slum- ber." Toward the end of August she re- turned little by little to her normal state. Here began the work of re-educating her. " On her recovery from the tor per, she ap- peared to have forgotten nearly all her pre- vious knowledge; everything seemed new to her, and she did not recognize a single indi- vidual—not even her nearest relatives. In her behavior she was restless and inattentive, but very lively and cheerful; she was de- lighted with everything she saw or heard, and altogether resembled a child more than a grown person. " In a short time she became more sedate, and her attention could be longer fixed on one object. Her memory, too, so entirely lost, as far as regarded previous knowledge, was soon found to be most acute and reten- tive with respect to everything she saw or heard subsequently to her disorder, and she has by this time recovered many of her former acquirements, some with greater, others with less facility. With regard to these, it is re- * " Brain," Oct. 1879, p, 317, seqq. markable that though the process followed in regaining many of them apparently consisted in recalling them to mind with the assistance of her neighbors rather than in studying them anew, yet even now she does not appear to be in the smallest degree conscious of having possessed them before. "At first it was scarcely possible to engage her in conversation; in place of answering a question, she repeated it aloud in the same words in which it was put, and even long after she came to answer questions she con- stantly repeated them once over before giving her reply. At first she had very few words, but she soon acquired a great many, and often strangely misapplied them. She did this, however, for the most part in particular ways ; she often, for instance, made one word answer for all others which were in any way allied to it, Thus, in place of 'tea,' she would ask for ' juice,' and this word she long used for liquids. For a longtime, also, in expressing the qualities of objects, she in- variably, where it was possible, used the words denoting the very opposite of what she intended, and thus she would say ' white ' in place of ' black,' ' hot ' for ' cold,' etc. She would often, also, talk of her arm when she meant her leg, her eye when she meant her tooth, etc. She now generally uses her words with propriety, although she is some- times apt to change her terminations or com- pose new ones of her own. '' She has as yet recognized no person, not even her nearest connections ; that is to say, she has no recollection of having seen or known them previous to her illness, though she is aware of having seen them since, and calls them either by their right names or by those of her own giving, but she knows them only as new acquaintances, and has no idea of what relations they sustain to herself. She has not seen above a dozen people since her illness, and she looks on these as all that she has ever known. "Among other acquirements, she has re- covered that of reading; but it was requisite to begin with the alphabet, as she at first did not know a single letter. She afterward learned to form syllables and small words, and now she reads tolerably well, and has shown herself much interested in several stories previously unknown to her, which she has read since her recovery. The re-acquisi- tion of her reading was eventually facilitated by singing the words of familiar songs from the printed page, while she played on the piano. In learning to write she began with the most elementary lessons, but made much more rapid progress than a person who had never before been taught. Very soon after the torpor left her she could sing many of her old songs, and play on the pianoforte with little or no assistance, and she has since continued to practice her music, which now affords her great pleasure and amusement. In singing, she at first generally required to be helped THE DISEASES OF MEMORY. [473] 21 to the first two or three words of a line, and made out the rest apparently from memory. She can play from the music book several tunes which she had never seen before; and her friends are inclined to think that she now plays and sings fully as well, if not better, than she did previously to her illness She learned backgammon, which she formerly knew, and several games at cards, with very little trouble; and she can now knit worsted, and do several other sorts of work; but with regard to all these acquirements, as already mentioned, it is remarkable that she appears not to have the slightest remembrance of having possessed them before, although it is plain that the process of recovery has been greatly aided by previous knowledge, which, however, she seems unconscious of having ever acquired. When asked how she had learned to' play the notes of music, from a book, she replied that she could not tell, and only wondered why her questioner could not do the same. " She has once or twice had dreams, which •she afterward related to her friends, and she seemed quite aware of the difference betwixt a dream and a reality; indeed, from several casual remarks which she makes of her own accord, it would appear that she possesses many general ideas of a more or less complex nature, which she has had no opportunity of .acquiring since her recovery. "w So far as we may judge from Dr. Sharpey's narrative this re-education did not take more than three months; nor is that an unexampled circumstance. "A clergyman, of rare talent and energy, of sound education, was thrown from his carriage and received a violent con- cussion of the brain. For several days he remained utterly unconscious, and when re- stored his intellect was observed to be in a state similar to that of a naturally intelligent child. Although in middle life, he commenced his English and classical studies under tutors, and was progressing satisfactorily, when, after several months' successful study, his memory gradually returned, and his mind resumed all its wonted vigor and its former wealth and polish of culture."! " A gentleman about thirty years of age, -of learning and acquirements, at the termi- nation of a severe illness, was found to have lost the recollection of everything, even the names of the most common objects. His health being restored, he began to re-acquire knowledge like a child. After learning the names of objects, he was taught to read, and, after this, began to learn Latin. He made •-considerable progress, when, one day, in Teading his lesson with his brother, who was his teacher, he suddenly stopped and put his hand to his head. Being asked why he did •so, he replied, ' I feel a peculiar sensation in my head; and now it appears to me that I knew all this before.' From that time he rapidly recovered his faculties."* I hold it sufficient, for the present, to lay these facts before the reader. The remarks they suggest will find more suitable place elsewhere. I shall conclude with a case little known, which marks the natural transition to intermittent amnesia. We shall, in fact, see gradually formed a provisional memory, and this again suddenly disappearing before the original memory. A young woman, robust and healthy, acci- dentally fell into a river and was nearly drowned. She was insensible for six hours and then returned to consciousness. Ten days afterward she fell into a profound stu- por which lasted four hours. On opening her eyes she no longer recognized any one, and she was deprived of hearing and speech, taste and smell. She retained only sight and touch, and these senses were of extreme sensibility. Ignorant of everything, and un- able to stir, she was like an animal deprived of its brain. She had a good appetite, but she had to be fed; she ate all sorts of food indifferently, swallowing it in purely auto- matic fashion. Indeed, so strictly automatic was her whole activity that for days her only occupation consisted in unraveling, picking or clipping into minute pieces everything that come to her hand, as flowers, paper, clothing, etc., and then arranging the scraps to form certain rude patterns. Later her friends supplied the materials for making patchwork, and after a few preparatory lessons she took up the needle and worked incessantly from morning till night, making no distinction be- tween Sunday and week-day, and even unable to perceive the difference. She retained no recollection of events from one day to another, and each morning she began a new task. Still, like an infant, she was beginning to register a few thoughts and to acquire some experience. She was next put at work of a little higher character, worsted work. She seemed to take great pleasure in gazing at the patterns with their flowers and their har- mony of colors; but each day she would com- mence a new piece, forgetting that of the day before, unless it was set before her. The thoughts derived from her former ex- perience that seemed to be first reawakened, were connected with two matters that had made a strong impression upon her, namely, the fall into the river and a love affair. When a landscape was shown her containing a river or a view of a troubled sea, she became greatly agitated, and forthwith would have an attack of spasmodic rigidity accompanied by insensibility. So great was the fright given her by the sight of water, especially water in motion, that pouring water from one vessel into another was enough to make her tremble. It was observed that when * " Brain," April, 1879. + Forbes Winslow, op. cit., p. 317. * Ibid. M2 [474] THE DISEASES UK MEMORY. she washed her hands, she simply dipped them in the water, as gently as possible. From the beginning of her malady the visits of a young man to whom she was at- tached gave her evident pleasure, even while she was insensible to everything else. He came regularly every evening, and she always looked for his arrival. At a time when she could not recall any occurrence an hour after it had happened, she used to look anxiously for the door to open at the accustomed hour, and if he did not come, she would be ill- humored the rest of the evening. On being taken into the country, she became low- spirited, irritable, and her paroxysms were frequent. But while the young man remained near her, her intellectual faculties and her memory were visibly improved. This return of her faculties was going on gradually all the time. One day seeing her mother much grieved, she suddenly exclaim- ed, after a moment's hesitation, " What is the matter?" From that moment forth she be- gan to articulate a few words, though she called neither persons nor things by their true names. The pronoun "this," was her favorite word, and she applied it to all sorts of objects, animate and inanimate alike. The first objects she called by their own names were wild flowers, for which she had shown a strong liking from her childhood. At this period she had as yet no recollection what- ever of the places or the persons associated with her early years. " The mode of recovery of this patient was quite as remarkable as anything in her history. Her health and bodily strength seemed completely reestablished, her vocabu- lary was being extended, and her mental ca- pacity was improving, when she became aware that her lover was paying attention to another woman. This idea immediately and very naturally excited the emotion of jeal- ousy; which, if we analyze it, will appear to be nothing else than a painful feeling con- nected with the idea of the faithlessness of the object beloved. On one occasion this feeling was so strongly excited that she fell down in a fit of insensibility, which resem- bled her first attack in duration and severity. This, however, proved sanatory. When the insensibility passed off, she was no longer spell-bound. The veil of oblivion was with- drawn; and, as if awakening from a sleep of twelve months' duration, she found herself surrounded by her grandfather, grandmother, and their familiar friends and acquaintances. She awoke in the possession of her natural faculties and former knowledge, but without the slightest remembrance of anything which had taken place in the year's interval from the invasion of the first fit up to the present time. She spoke, but she heard not; she was still deaf, but, being able to read and write as formerly, she was no longer cut off from association with others. From this time she rapidly improved, but for a while I continued deaf. She soon perfectly under- stood by the motion of her lips what hei mother said; they conversed with facility and' quickness together, but she did not under- stand the language of the lips of a stranger. She was completely unaware of the change in her lover's affections, which had taken place in her state of ' second consciousness;' and a painful explanation was necessary. This, however, she bore very well; and she has since recovered her bodily and mental health."* We shall see further on, when we shall have traversed all the facts, what general conclusions as to the mechanism of memory are to be drawn from its pathology. For the moment we shall restrict ourselves to a few observations suggested by the foregoing facts. In the first place we would remark that the cases just cited, though classed by physicians under the general head of total amnesia, in reality belong, from the psycological point of view, to two different morbid types. The first type (represented by the cases observed by Villiers, Laycock, Mortimer, Granville, etc.) is by far the more frequent. We have given only a few examples, so as not to weary the reader with monotonous and unprofitable repetition. What characterizes this type, psychologically, is the fact that here the amnesia attaches only to the least automatic and least organized forms of the memory. In cases belonging to this morbid group neither the habits nor skill in any handicraft, as sewing or embroidery, nor the power of reading or writing, or speaking one's own or other languages, disappears; in short, memory in its organized or semi-organized form, remains intact. The destruction of memory in these cases affects only its highest and most instable forms, those personal in character and which, being accompanied by consciousness and localization in time, con- stitute that which in the preceding chapter we called psychic memory proper. It is fur- ther to be remarked that the amnesia covers the most recent events—extending backward from the present over a period of variable duration.f This may at first cause surprise, for our latest recollections would seem to be the most vivid, the s'.rongest. But, in fact, this result is perfectly natural, the stability of a remembrance being in a direct ratio to its degree of organization. But I will not dwell upon this point, which will be con- sidered at length elsewhere. The physiological reason of amnesia in this group is purely hypothetical, and it prob- ably is different in different cases. First (as we see especially in Laycock's observation) * Dunn, in the " Lancet," 1845. See Carpenter, op. cit. p. 460, et seg. t I must, however, mention a case reported by Brown-Sequard, where a patient, in consequence of an attack of apoplexy, lost recollection of five years of his life. These five years, which included the time of his marriage, ended just six months before the date of his attack. THE DISEASES OF MEMORY. [475] 28 the power of registering new experiences is temporarily suspended ; states of conscious- ness disappear as quickly as they appear, leaving no trace. But what becomes of the recollections registered previously for weeks, and months and years? They persisted, they were preserved and were recalled formerly ; they seemed to be a lasting acquisition, yet in their place is now a void. This the pa- tient fills by device and indirectly from the testimony of others and from his own reflec- tions, thus more or less satisfactorily con- necting his present with what remains to him of his past. It does not appear from the observations made that he ever fills this void by a direct reminiscence. Hence two suppo- sitions are equally warranted; viz., that either the registration of the prior states has been effaced ; or that the retention of the anterior states persisting, their aptitude for being re- vived by associations with the present is de- stroyed. We are not in a position to decide between these two hypotheses. The other, and less frequent morbid type is represented in the cases reported by Sharpey and Winslow (that observed by Dunn marks a transition to intermittent am- nesia). Here the work of destruction is complete: memory in all its forms—organ- ized, semi organized, and conscious—is done away. There is complete amnesia. As we have seen, the authors who have described it compare the patient to an infant and his mind to a tabula rasa. These expressions, how- ever, are not to be taken in the strict sense. The cases of re-education which we have cited show that though all prior experience is made null, there yet remain in the brain some few latent aptitudes. The extreme rapidity of the new education, especially in its later stages, were otheiwise inexplicable. Facts tend to prove beyond question that this recovery of aptitudes, which seems the work of artifice, is above all the work of na- ture. The memory returns because the atro- phied nerve elements are in time succeeded by other nerve elements possessing the same properties, whether original or acquired, as those they succeed. This is another proof of the relation which subsists between mem- ory and nutrition. Finally—for all cases of amnesia cannot be reduced to one formula—in cases where the loss and the recovery of memory are sud- den we readily perceive the analogues of those phenomena of arrest of function or " inhibition," now closely studied by phy- siologists, but of which very little is known. II. The study of periodical amnesia is far better calculated to throw light upon the nature of the Ego and the conditions of ex- istence of the conscious personality, than to exhibit the mechanism of memory under a new aspect. It forms an interesting portion of a work that has never yet been written in | full and whose title might be " Diseases and j Aberrations of Personality." It will be difficult for us to avoid touching upon this subject every moment, but I shall endeavor to say of it only what is indispensable for clearness of exposition. I shall be sparing of illustrative facts, for they are sufficiently known. The study of so-called cases of "double consciousness," is quite in the fashion. Dr. Azam's detailed and instructive study, in particular, has given the general reader a clearer idea of what is meant by periodic amnesia, than could be got from any definition. I shall, therefore, con- tent myself with a review of the principal cases, proceeding from the most perfect phase of periodic amnesia to its most elementary forms. r. The clearest, most unquestionable and most perfect case of periodic amnesia on record is that given by Macnish in his " Phi- losophy of Sleep," and which has since been ofttimes quoted: A young American woman,. on awaking from a protracted sleep, lost memory of all she had before learned. " Her memory was capacious and well stored with a copious stock of ideas. Unexpectedly, and without any forewarning, she fell into a profound sleep, which continued several hours beyond the ordinary term. On waking, she was discovered to have lost evejy trace of acquired knowledge. Her memory was ta~ bula rasa—all vestiges, both of words and things, were obliterated and gone. It was found necessary for her to learn everything again. She even acquired, by new efforts, the art of spelling, reading, writing and cal- culating, and gradually became acquainted with the persons and objects around, like a being for the first time brought into the world. In these exercises she made con- siderable proficiency. But, after a few months, another fit of somnolency invaded her. On rousing from it, she found herself restored to the state she was in before the first paroxysm; but was wholly ignorant of every event and occurrence that had befallen her afterward. The former condition of her existence she now calls the old state, and the latter the new state; and she is as uncon- scious of her double character as two distinct persons are of their respective natures. For example, in her old state she possesses all the original knowledge, in her new state only what she acquired since. In the old state she possesses fine powers of penmanship, while in the new she writes a poor, awkward hand, having not had time or means to be- come an expert."* Dismissing for the moment all that relates to the alternation of the two personalities, we see that there have been formed here two perfect memories entirely independent of each other. It is not alone the memory of. personal facts, the fully conscious memory, ■ * Macnish, "Philosophy of Sleep." ^4 [476] THE DISEASES OF MEMORY. that is cut into two parts which never re unite, and which have no cognizance of each other: the same lot befalls the semi-organic, semi-conscioos memory which serves us in speaking, in reading, and in writing. We are not informed whether this disscission of memory extended also to its purely organic forms, the habits,—whether the patient for instance had to learn anew how to use the hands for every-day offices, as in eating, put- ting on clothes, and the like. But even though we suppose this group to have re- mained intact, the separation into two distinct and independent groups is so complete as to satisfy the most exacting observer. Dr. Azam recounts a case resembling this, but far less clearly defined. The normal memory disappears, and reappears periodi- cally. In the interval no new memory is formed, but the patient retains a beggarly remnant of his old memory: such at least is the inference to be drawn from the record of an observation whose psychological details are not always very accurate.* The case was that of a youth who, having been subject to chorea, lost all memory of the past, forgot all that he had ever been taught, could no longer read, nor write, nor count, and recog- nized none of the persons around him except his father, his mother, and the nun who at- tended him. Yet while the amnesia lasted— and usually its term was a month—the young man could ride on horseback, drive a car- riage, lead his accustomed life, and say his prayers very regularly at the proper times. Memory usually came back suddenly. So far as we may judge, there was in this case a periodic suspension of the memory in its in- stable and semi-stable—or conscious and semi-conscious—forms (consciousness being as a rule in ratio inverse to stability). But whatever had to do with organized mem- oiy remained intact: the lowermost strata of memory stood firm. I will not, however, dwell upon a case which has not been re- ported with sufficient details to warrant a psychological interpretation. II.—A second and less complete, but more frequent form of periodic amnesia is that so in- terestingly described by Dr. Azam, in the case of Felida X., and of which Dr Dufay found the analogue in the case of one of his patients. These cases are so well known, and the original narratives so accessible, that a brief summary of them will suffice here. A woman subject to hysteria was in 1856 attacked by a singular disease in consequence of which she thereafter led a two-fold life, passing alternately from one to another of two states, designated by Dr. Azam, as the "first" and the "second" state. In her normal (" first") state, she was grave, seri- * " Revue Scientifique," 2a Dec, 1877. For in- stance, it is there said that during one of the attacks the patient "could converse intelligently and with anniraation, though he had not recovered his mem- ory." (?) ous, reserved, industrious. Suddenly she would fall asleep, lose consciousness, and on returning to herself, she was found to be in the second state. Her character is now al- tered. She is gay, talkative, imaginative, coquettish. " She remembers perfectly all that occurred in other like states before, as well as what occurred in her normal state." Then after a longer or shorter period she again falls into a stupor. On coming out of this she resumes her first state. But now she has forgotten all that occurred in her second state, remembering only the occurrences of her prior normal states. I may add that as she grows older the periods of the normal state became shorter and shorter, and farther apart, and the transition from one state to the other now takes place instantaneously, whereas before it used to take ten minutes. Such are the main features of this case. So far as it concerns our particular inquiry, it may be summed up in a few words. The patient passes alternately from one state to the other; in the one, she possesses all her memory; in the other, she has but a partial memory covering all states of the same kind. The case observed by Dr. Dufay, at Blois, is very like this. During the period answer- ing to Felida's '' second state, ' Dr. Dufay's patient " recollects the most trifling occur- rence of her normal or of her somnabulistic state." There is also the same alternation of character, and in her period of perfect mem- ory she speaks of her normal state as the " etat bete "—the " brute state." It is important to observe how, in this form of periodic amnesia, one portion of the memory is never affected but persists through both states. '' In both states," says Dr. Azam, "the patient can read, write, count, and use the scissors or the needle as well as ever she could." There is not, as there was in the case cited by Macnish, a perfect scis- sion between the two states: the semi-conscious states of memory are equally active in both. III.—To complete our exposition of the dif- ferent modes of periodic amnesia we will de- scribe certain cases which present only some of its elements; they are seen in somnambulism, whether natural or induced. As a rule, somnambulists.on coming to themselves, have no recollection of what they said or did, but each crisis brings back the recollection of the preceding crisis. There are exceptions to this law, but they are rare. Macario's narra- tive has often been cited, of a girl who hav- ing been violated during a fit of somnambu- lism, had no cognizance of the fact on awak- ening, but who in her next somnambulistic state made it known to her mother. Dr. Mesnet witnessed a patient's attempt at sui- cide made with a good deal of judgment during two consecutive fits of somnambulism. A young maid servant every evening for three months thought she was a bishop, act- ing and speaking in that character; and Ham- ilton speaks of a poor apprentice who as sooa THE DISEASES OF MEMORY. [477] 28 as he fell asleep believed himself to be the father of a family, wealthy, a senator: every night he would recount his story in due order, in a loud voice, and if any one asked him about his apprenticeship, he would say that he was no apprentice. But it is useless to multiply examples; they exist in abundance, and they all show that side by side with the normal memory there is formed, during paroxysms, a partial, temporary, parasitic memory. In summing up the general characters of periodic amnesia as exhibited in the phenom- ena, we find in the first place the formation of two memoiies. In the perfect form of periodic amnesia (e. g., Macnish's case) the two memories are mu- tually exclusive—the one appearing, the other disappears. Each suffices for itself ; each has, so to speak, its own outfit. That organized memory whereby we are able to speak, write, read, is not common to the two states, but for each state there is form- ed a distinct memory of words, and of graphic signs, and of the mode of tracing them. In the incomplete form (cases reported by Azam and Dufay.also in somnambulism) there is alternating with the normal memory a par- tial memory. The former includes all the states of consciousness; the latter only a re- stricted group of states which separate them- selves from the others, and form in the life of the individual a series of fragments linked together. But the two memories have a common ground in the less stable, less con- scious forms of memory, which enter equally into both groups. The result of this scission of the memory is that the individual seems to himself, or at least to others, as though he led a two-fold life—a natural illusion, for the Ego consists (or seems to consist) in the possibility of associating with present states—states that are recognized, *'. e., localized in the past, according to processes which we have striven to describe. Here we have two distinct centers of association or attraction, each at- tracting one group of facts, and in no wise affecting other groups. It is evident that this formation of two memories, each totally or partially excluding the other cannot be a normal fact. It is the symptom of a morbid process—the psychic expression of a disorder, the nature of which remains to be determined. And this leads us, much to our regret, to treat in an inci- dental way a large question—that of the con- ditions cf personality. First, we must lay aside the idea of an Ego regarded as an entity distinct from states of consciousness. Such hypothesis is both useless and self-contradictory; it is an ex- planation worthy only of a psychology in its infant state, that takes that to be simple which so appears, and which invents instead of explaining. I accept the opinion of con- temporary scholars who recognize in the con- scious person a something composite, a re- sultant of highly complex acts. The Ego, as it appears to itself, consists of a sum of states of consciousness. There is a principal state of consciousness around which secondary states are grouped and which these tend to supplement, they themselves being in turn pressed by other states that are hardly states of consciousness at all. The state which acts the principal part, after a longer or shorter contest, gives way, being displaced by another around which we have another similar grouping. The mechanism of consciousness may be compared, without any metaphor, with that of vision. In the latter there is a visual point which alone gives a clear and definite sense perception; round about this is afield of vision which grows less and less clear and definite in proportion as it recedes from the center and approaches the circumference. Our Ego is at each mo- ment—that present that is ever being re- newed—in great part re-constituted by mem- ory; that is to say, to the present state are associated other states which, being thrown back into and localized in the past, constitute our personality as it appears at each moment. In a word, the Ego maybe considered in two ways—either in its actually present state, and then it is the sum of our actually present states of consciousness; or in its continuity with the past, and then it is formed by mem- ory according to a process we have already described. From this it might appear as though the identity of the Ego rested entirely on mem- ory; but that view takes note only of a part of the facts. Under the instable compound that is each moment forming, breaking up, and forming again, there stands something that persists, viz., that dim consciousness which is the result of all the vital actions, which constitutes our perception of our own bodies, and which has been designated by one word—ccencesthesis. Our apprehension of it is so vague that it is difficult to speak of it in precise language. It is a state which, being perpetually repeated, makes no special impression on consciousness, and is like a habit. But though it is felt neither in itself nor in the gradual variations which constitute the normal state of the organism, it some- times undergoes instantaneous or rapid varia- tions which change the personality. All alienists teach that the incubation period of mental diseases is indicated not by intellect- ual disturbance, but by changes in character —and character is simply the psychic aspect I of ccenaesthesis. So, too, we know that an organic lesion may transform the ccenses- thesis; substituting for the ordinary sense of existence a feeling of sadness, distress, anxiety, without cause, as the patient sup- poses; or again it may inspire feelings of gladness, satisfaction, buoyancy, perfect con- tentment—deceptive indications of grave 2tf l478) THE DISEASES disorganization, the most striking illustration of which is seen in what has been called the euphoria of the dying. All these changes have a physiological cause; they represent its echo in the consciousness; and to say that while these variations are felt the normal state is not felt, is in effect to affirm that our i,ormal life is not a mode of living because it is monotonous. This ccensesthesis which, just because it is perpetually repeated, lies below the plane of consciousness is the true basis of personality. And it is so because, being always present, always active, without rest or respite, it knows neither sleep nor fainting, and endures as long as life itself, of which indeed it is but one form. This it is which serves as the ground of the conscious Ego constituted by memory; it is this which makes associations possible and when formed maintains them. Hence the unity of the Ego is not a mathe- matical point, but that of a highly complex mechanism. It is a consensus of vital pro- cesses coordinated first by the nervous sys- tem, the great coordinating agency of Jie or- ganism, and then by the consciousness, whose natural form is unity. It is in fact of the very nature of psychic states that they can coexist only in a very small number, grouped round one principal state which alone repre- sents consciousness in its fullness. Suppose, now, that we could instantly change our body and put another in its place —skeleton, vessels, viscera, muscles, all new except the nervous system, which remains the same, with all its past duly registered. There is no doubt but that in such case the afflux of unwonted life-sensations would pro- duce the greatest confusion. Between the old ccensesthesis, impressed on the nervous system and the new ccensesthesis acting with the intensity of everything new and unwonted, there would be irreconcilable opposition. This hypothesis is realized to a certain extent in moi bid cases. Some obscure organic trouble occasionally so modifies the ccensesthesis that the subject believes himself to be made of stone, or butter, or wax, or wood; that he is of the opposite sex, or that he is dead. But apart from morbid cases, consider what takes place at puberty: " When certain parts of the body that before were inactive assume the active state, a complete revolution takes place in the organism. A mass of new sen- sations, new desires, new imaginings, more or less distinct, new impulses come into the consciousness in a relatively brief space of time. Little by little they penetrate within the circle of the thoughts of longer standing, and form an integral part of the Ego. The j latter becomes a different being: it is trans- ' formed, and the feeling of its self-hood un- dergoes a radical metamorphosis. Until assimilation is complete, this penetration and this dissociation of the primitive Ego can hardly be brought about without great com- motion of the consciousness and tumultuous OF MEMORY. disturbance."* It may be affirmed that whenever changes in the ccenzesthesis, instead of being insensible or temporary, are rapid and permanent, discord arises between the two elements that constitute our personality in the normal state—the general sense of our body (ccensesthesis) and conscious memory. If the new state holds its own, it becomes a center round which new associations group themselves; thus is formed a new complex, a new Ego. The antagonism between these two centers of attraction—the old, which is tending to dissolution, and the new, which is jgi process of development—produces different results according to circumstances. Some- times the original Ego disappears, after en- riching the new with its accumulated acqui- sitions, that is, with a portion of the associa- tions of which it consisted. Again, the two Egos alternate, neither supplanting the other. Sometimes the original Ego exists no longer save in memory, but not being connected with any ccensesthesis, it appears to the new as something extraneous, f The object of the foregoing digression was to assign logical ground for what had before rested on mere assertion; namely, that peri- odic amnesia is only a secondary phenome- non ; its cause is to be found in a vital dis- turbance, the general sense of existence (ccensesthesis) which, properly speaking, is simply the sense of the unity of our body, passing through two alternate phases. This is the prime cause which produces the form- ation of two association-centers, and con- sequently of two memories. Pursuing our investigation further, other questions meet us, to which unfortunately we can make no reply, i. What is the physiological cause of these rapid and regular variations of ccensesthesis? Only hypothetical replies have been offered (state of the vascular system, inhibitory ac- tion, etc.). 2. Why is each form of csnsesthesis con- nected with certain forms of association, to the exclusion of others? We do not know, and can only say that in periodic amnesia the retention of impressions remains intact; that is to say, the cell modifications and. dynamic associations remain; the power of recalling them is alone affected. The asso- ciations have two starting points: one state (A) may call out certain groups, but is in- capable of awakening other groups; another * Gnesinger, " Traite des Maladies Mentales " p 55. el seq. tThus I explain a case mentioned by Leuret (" Fragments psych, sur la folie," p. 277). An insane woman who spoke of herself as "la personne de moi- meme" ("The person of myselfA), had retained a very distinct memory of her life down to the begin- ning of her insanity, but she referred that period of her life to another person. Of her former Ego noth- ing but the recollection remained. Much might be said of such confusion of personality, but the discus- sion would take iu beyond the subject we are treat- ing. THE DISEASES OF MEMORY. [479] 27 state (B) does the reverse. Some groups enter equally into both complexes (incom- plete scission). In short, two physiological states, by their alternation, determine two ccensestheses, and these determine two forms of association, and consequently, two memories. To complete our observations on this sub- ject, it is well to refer briefly to the natural connection established, in spite of interrup- tions, sometimes of considerable dura- tion, between periods of the same kind, and particularly between different fits of somnam- bulism. This fact, interesting as it is on several accounts, can be considered here only so far as it exhibits a periodical and regular return of the same recollections. Abnormal as it may at first appear, it is entirely logical and in full agreement with our conception of the Ego. For if the Ego at each instant is but the sum of the actual states of conscious- ness and of the vital processes in which con- sciousness has its root, it follows that every time that this physiological and psychological complex shall be constituted, the Ego will be the same and the same associations will be called up. In each attack a special physio- logical state is produced; the senses are closed to nearly all external excitations, and consequently many associations can no longer be awakened. There is a simplification of the mental life: it is reduced almost to a me- chanical condition. These states, by their very simplicity very closely resemble one an- other, and differ totally from the waking state- It is, therefore, natural that the same conditions should produce the same effects, that the same elements should give rise to the same combinations, and that the same associations should be awakened to the ex- clusion of others. They find in the patho- logical state their conditions of existence, which in the normal state either are wanting, or are in antagonism with many other condi- tions. In the state of health and in the waking state the phenomena of consciousness are so varied, so numerous, that the same combina- tion has little chance of being awakened many times in succession, though in certain abnormal cases this is seen to occur, under the action of unknown causes. A clergy- man, says Dr. Reynolds, apparently in good health, went through the pulpit service one Sunday morning with perfect consistency, his choice of hymns and lessons, and his ex- tempore prayer being all related to the sub- ject of the sermon. The Sunday following he went through the service in precisely the same manner, selecting the same hymns and lessons, making the same prayer, giving out the same text, and preaching the same ser- mon On descending from the pulpit he had not the slightest remembrance of having gone through precisely the same service on the preceding Sunday. He was much alarmed, and feared an attack of brain disease, but nothing of the kind supervened.* A like return of memory sometimes occurs in drunkenness, as in the well-known case of the Irish porter, who, having lost a package while drunk, got drunk again, and remem- bered where he had left it. As has been already said, cases of periodic amnesia, curious though they may be, teach us more as to the nature of the Ego than as. to the nature ot memory. Still they are in- structive, and we will return to them in the next paragraph. III. Progressive amnesia is that form which by a slow and continuous process of dissolution leads to complete abolition of memory. This definition applies to the majority of cases. and it is only in exceptional instances that the morbid evolution fails to result in total extinction. The process of the disease is very simple and does not impress the imagin- ation, precisely because it is gradual, but it is highly instructive because, in showing how the memory is disorganized, it teaches us how it is organized. Here we are not called upon to cite special cases of rare occurrence or of exceptional character. It suffices to describe just one morbid type that is very nearly constant. The primary cause of the disease is some- progressive lesion of the brain—cerebral hemorrhage, apoplexy, softening of the brain, general paralysis, senile atrophy and the like- In the early stages there exist only partial disorders. The patient is subject to frequent moments of forgetfulness, always with re- spect to recent occurrences. If he drops the work he happens to be doing, he forgets to take it up again. The events of yesterday and the day before, the order he has received, the resolution he has taken—all are blotted out at once. This partial amnesia is the habitual symptom of incipient general paral- ysis. Lunatic asylums are full of patients- belonging to this category who, the day after they are received, declare that they have been a year, five years, ten years in the in- stitution. They have only a faint remem- brance of having left their homes and fami- lies; they cannot tell the day of the week nor the month of the year. But their memory of what they did and what they learned be- fore the onset of the disease is still intact- It is a familiar observation that in aged per- sons the characteristic failure of memory has- reference to recent occurrences. That is about as far as the data of the re- ceived psychology go. The conclusion would seem to be that the dissolution of memory does not follow any law. I will offer proof to the contrary. To discover the law we must make a psy- chological study of the progress of demen- * Apud. Carpenter, op. cit., p. 444- 3» [480] THE DISEASES OF MEMORY. _tia.* When the premonitory stages, of which •me have spoken, are past, there supervenes a general and gradual enfeeblement of all the faculties, till at last the individual is re- duced to a purely vegetative life. Physicians distinguish several species of dementia, as senile, paralytic, epileptic, etc., according to the cause which produces it. These dis- tinctions do not concern us. The break-up of the mind is always the same thing what- ever the cause may be, and in it alone are we interested. The question therefore is, in ibis breaking up of the mind, does the loss of memory proceed in a fixed order ? The many alienists who have described dementia have not dwelt on this question, as it has no importance for them. Their testi- mony, therefore, will be all the more valuable If we can find an answer in their writings: . and we do. On consulting the best authors "(Griesinger, Baillarger, Falret, Foville, etc.,) we learn that the amnesia, at first restricted to recent events, later extends to ideas, then to feelings and affections, and finally to acts. Here we have all the data of a law. To de- termine what the law is we have only to ex- amine successively these several groups. i. That the weakening of the memory first affects the recollection of recent events is an observation so familiar that we fail to notice how it contradicts our a priori ideas. One would suppose that the most recent occur- rences, those nearest to the present would be the most stable, the most distinctly remem- bered, and such is in fact the case in the normal state. But at the setting in of de- mentia there occurs a serious anatomical lesion—the degeneration of the nerve cells begins. These elements, tending to atrophy, can no longer retain new impressions. In more precise language, no new modification -of the cells, and no formation of new dynam- ic associations is possible, or at least durable. The anatomical conditions of stability and reviviscence are wanting. If the perception is entirely new, it is not registered in the nerve centers and is instantly blotted out. If it is only a repetition of prior experiences that are still vivid, the patient refers the per- ception to the past; the concomitant circum- stances of the actual perception are quickly .effaced, and cannot be localized in time. But the modifications fixed years before in the nerve elements and now become organic; the dynamic associations and groups of associa- tions that have been repeated hundreds and thousands of times, still persist; they have greater power of resistance to meet destructive forces. Thus is explained the paradox of memory, that the new dies before the old. 2. Soon this old-time store of organic and conscious memories, on which the patient for a time subsists, is in turn dissipated. His intellectual acquisitions are lost, one after * The term is used here in its medical sense, not as * synonym of insanity in general. another (scientific, artistic, professional knowledge, languages, etc.). His personal recollections fade away, those of later years first, those of childhood last. When the process of decay is in an advanced stage, the stories and ditties of childhood even return. Often the demented forget in great part their own language. A few expressions are re- membered by accident, but commonly the patient repeats automatically the words he retains. The anatomical cause of this intel- lectual dissolution is an atrophy which, little by little, invades the cortex of the brain, and the white matter, producing a fatty and atheromatous degeneration of the cells, tubes and capillaries of the nerve-substance. 3. It has been noticed by the best observer! that the affectional faculties are extinguished far more slowly than the intellectual. It may at first seem strange that states so vague as those of feeling and sentiment should be more stable than ideas and intellectual states in general. But reflection shows that the feel- ings are the deepest, the inmost, the most persistent features of our mental constitution. Whereas the intelligence is something ac- quired and as it were external to us, the feel- ings are inborn. Considered in their origin, aside from any refined and complex forms they may assume, they are the direct and permanent experience of our organism. The viscera, muscles, bones—every tissue of our bodies contributes its share toward their form- ation. What are we but our feelings and sentiments ? to forget them is to forget our- selves. Hence amnesia of the feelings must naturally occur only at a period when disor- ganization has gone so far that the personality begins to break up. 4. The acquisitions that longest withstand dissolution are those which are almost en- tirely organic—the daily routine, habits to which we have long been addicted. Many patients can arise in the morning, dress themselves, take their meals regularly, go to bed, engage in manual labor, play cards and other games, sometimes with remarkable skill, though the judgment, the will, the affections are extinguished. This automatic activity, which presupposes only a minimum of conscious memory, belongs to that lower form of memory for which the cerebral gan- glia, the medulla and the spinal cord suffice. The progressive destruction of the mem- ory therefore follows a logical course, a law. It descends progressively from the instable to the stable. It begins with the recent recollec- tions which, being but faintly impressed on the nerve elements, seldom repeated, and consequently but feebly associated withother recollections, represent organization in its lowest stage. It ends with that sensorial, instinctive memory which, being rooted in the organism and become a part of it, or rather become the organism itself, represents organization in its most pronounced aspect From the initial to the final term theorogress THE DISEASES OF MEMORY. [481] 2^ of amnesia, determined by the nature of things, follows the line of least resistance, that is, of least organization. Thus pathol- ogy fully bears out what we have said with regard to memory. It is a process of organ- ization in varying degrees between two ex- treme limits: the new state, organic registra- tion. This law, which I shall call the Law of Regression or of Reversion, seems to rest on facts and to be objectively true. Still, to remove all doubt and to obviate every objec- tion, I propose to verify this law by a counter demonstration. If memory, when failing, follows invariably the course indicated, then it must follow the reverse course when it is in process of restora- tion: the forms that disappear last must re- appear first, for they are the most stable; and the process of restoration must be an ascend- ing one. It is very difficult to find cases in proof. In the first place the memory must return of its own accord: cases of re-education prove but little. Again, recovery from progressive amnesia is of rare occurrence. Finally, as attention has never been directed to this point, nothing is to be found upon it in the books. Physicians, whose attention is en- grossed with the other symptoms are content to observe that memory "returns little by little." Louyer-Viller in his essay, quoted above, observes that "memory when in process of re-establishment, follows an order inverse to that followed when in decay: events, adject- ives, substantives, proper names." But little is to be drawn from this not over-precise re- mark* . Here is something more definite: Late- ly a celebrated Russian astronomer forgot, successively, the events of the previous day, then those of the year, then those of the years last past, and so on, the chasm grad- ually increasing, till at last he could only recollect the events of his childhood. His case was considered hopeless; but by a sud- den stop and unforeseen return, the blank was filled up in an inverted manner; the events of his youth first reappearing, then those of his manhood, and finally the more recent, those of the previous day. His mem- ory was wholly restored at the time of his death."* . . .„ The following observation is still more to the point: the facts were noted in this in- stance hour by hour. I quote the greater part of the narrative: f _ "I must in the first place mention two de- tails of no great importance in themselves, but which need to be noted because they are connected with a remarkable phenomenon Toward the end of November, an officer of * Taine, " Intelligence." Part i, Bk. ii, ch. ii + " Observation sur un cas de perte de Meraoire, by KSmpfen in the " Memoire. d« I'Academ.e de Medecine," 183s. vol. iv, p. 489. my regiment suffered an injury to the left foot from the chafing of the boot. On No- vember 30 he went to Versailles to visit his- brother. He dined in Versailles and in ther evening went back to Paris, and on entering. his lodging found on the mantelpiece a letter from his father. '' Now for the principal fact. On Decern' ber 1 this officer was at the riding school, antf his horse having fallen, he was thrown to ther ground, falling ou his right side, particularly on his right parietal bone. The concussion was followed by a slight syncope. Coming. to himself he mounted his horse again ' to get rid of a trace of giddiness,' and contin- ued his lesson in horsemanship for three- quarters of an hour. Still he would now and then remark to the groom, ' I am coming out of a dream. What is the matter with me ?' He was taken to his lodging. " As I lived in the same house, I was sum- moned immediately. He was standing as I entered, recognized me, saluted me as usual, and said, ' I am like one coming out of a dream: what is the matter with me?' His- utterance was unimpeded. He answered all questions rationally. He complained only of a buzzing in his head. " Though questioned by myself, his groom and his servant, he remembered neither the injury of two days before, his journey tc* Versailles on the day before, his leaving the house in the morning, his orders to his do- mestic on going out, his fall, nor anything that followed thereafter. He fully recognized his friends, called each by name, knew that he was an officer, knew the day of the week,. and so on. " I never allowed an hour to pass without noting his condition. At every call, he al- ways thought I had come then for the first time. He remembered none of the prescrip- tions he had been following—footbaths, fric- tion, etc.; in short for him nothing existed? but the action of the present moment. Six hours after the accident his pulse commenced to grow quicker and he began to retain in mind the answer so many times made to his question—' You had a fall from your horse £ Eight hours after the accident, his pulse still rising, he remembered having seen me there once. Two hours and a-half later, the pulse- being normal, he forgot nothing that was said to him. He then distinctly recollected the injury to his foot; and was also begin- ning to remember his visit to Versailles, but this in so uncertain a way that were any one to declare positively the contrary, he would have been inclined to believe him. But mem- ory coming back more and more, he became assured during the evening that he had been at Versailles. There the progress for that day stood still. When he went to sleep, he- was still unable to remember what he bad< done at Versailles, how he had come back to> Paris, or where he had found the letter fronx- his father. 80 [482] THE DISEASES OF MEMORY. "On December 2, after a night of un- troubled sleep, as soon as he awoke, he re- called in succession wh^i he had done at Ver- sailles, and his finding the letter on the man telpiece. But he still knew nothing of what he had done, or seen, or heard, on December I, prior to the accident—that is to say, he knew nothing of his own knowledge, but only what he had heard from others. " The loss of memory was in the inverse ratio of the time that had elapsed between the several occurrences and his fall, and the return of memory was distinctly in the order from the more remote to the more recent." This observation, made without any inten- tion of bolstering up any hypothesis by a man who seems much surprised by the facts he records, strongly confirms our law of regres- sion. True, this was only a case of tempo- rary, limited amnesia; but it is seen that even -within these narrow limits the law is verified. I regret that though I have searched a good deal, and made inquiries in many quarters, I am unable to lay before the reader many other cases of this kind. But when attention has been called to the matter, I hope other ceases will come to light. Our law, therefore, resting as it does on facts, and verified by this counter proof, may be held to be true till the contrary is shown. Then there are other considerations that go to corroborate it. This law, however universal it may be with regard to memory, is but a particular expres- sion of a still more general law—a biological law. It is a fact well known in biology that the structures that are latest formed are the first to degenerate—a fact, says a physiolo- gist, analagous to what takes place in great commercial crises. The old houses with- stand the hurricane, the new ones, less firm, are brought down on all sides. Again, in the biological world, dissolution proceeds in an -order inverse to that of evolution—it proceeds from the complex to the simple. Hughlings Jackson was the first to prove in detail that the higher, complex, voluntary functions of the nervous system disappear first, and that the lower, simple, general and automatic functions disappear latest. We have seen hoth of these facts verified in the dissolution of the memory: what is new dies out earlier than what is old, what is complex earlier than what is simple. The law we have formulated is therefore only the psychological expression of a law of life; and pathology in turn ex- hibits to us in memory a biological fact. The study of periodic amnesia has thrown ijiew light on our subject. In teaching jis how memory is constituted and how de- stroyed, it shows what memory is. It has revealed to us a law by which we may guide ■ourselves through the multitudinous varieties of diseases of memory, and which will later enable us to view them as one whole. Without attempting a premature summary -,ve may recall what has just been said : First of all, and in every case, there is loss of recent recollections; in periodic amnesia there is a suspension of all the forms of memory except the semi-organized and the organic; in total temporary amnesia there is complete abolition of memory, except the organic forms; in one case, that described by Mac- nish, there is complete abolition, including the organic forms. We shall see in the next chapter that partial disorders of memory are governed by the same law of regression, es- pecially that most important group, amnesia of language. The law of regression accepted, we have next to determine how it acts. On this point I shall be brief, as I have nothing to offer but hypotheses. It were puerile to imagine that recollections are deposited on the brain in layers in the order of their priority in time, after the manner of geological strata; and that disease, descend- ing from the surface down to the deep-lying layers, acts after the manner of the experi- mentalist who removes slice after slice from the brain of an animal. To explain the course of the morbid process we must have resource to the hypothesis offered above with respect to the physical bases of memory. I will state it again in a few words : It is in the highest degree probable that recollections have the same anatomical seat as the primary impressions and that they call into action the same nerve-elements (cells and fibers). These elements may occupy very diverse positions—from the cortex of the brain to the medulla. Retention and repro- duction depend, 1. On a certain modification of the cells; 2. On the formation of more or less complex groups, which we denominate dynamic associations. Such are the physical bases of memory as we conceive them. The primary acquisitions—those dating from infancy—are the simplest, namely, the formation of automatic secondary move- ments, and the education of our senses: they depend principally on the medulla and on the inferior centers of the brain: and as we know, the cortex is at this period of life im- perfectly developed. Quite apart from their simplicity, there is every reason why they should be the most stable. In the first place the nerve-elements, when they receive these primitive impressions, are "virgin." Nutri- tion is in infancy very active, but this inces- sant molecular renovation serves only to fix the impressions, the new molecules take ex- actly the places of the old, and hence the acquired disposition of the nerve-elements becomes in the end equivalent to an innate disposition. Further, the dynamic associa- tions established between these elements at- tains a state of perfect fusion, from being re- peated innumerable times. Hence it is in- evitable that these first acquisitions should be better retained and more easily reproduced than any others, and that they should con- stitute the most enduring form of memory. THE DISEASES OF MEMORY. [4K.-1] 31 So long as the adult individual remains in 1 the state of normal health, his new impres- sions and new associations, though far more complex than those of childhood, are never- theless very likely to be stable. The causes we have just enumerated are ever operative, (hough with less force But if through the effects of old age or of disease the conditions are changed; if the vital actions, and in particular nutrition, are weakened; if the loss exceeds the gain; then the impressions become instable and the associations are easily broken up. Take an | example. Suppose a man in that stage of progressive amnesia in which recent events are very soon forgotten. He listens to a narrative, he views a landscape, or sees a show. The psychic fact is in the last analy- sis reduced to a sum of auditive or visual impressions forming highly complex groups. In the new story or the new show there is usually only one thing that is new—the grouping, the association. The sounds, fonns, colors that make them up have been many a time experienced, and many a time remembered before. But now, owing to the n.iui bid condition of the brain, this new com- plex of impressions fails to fix itself in the brain; the elements that constitute it are part -of other associations or groups of far more stable character, that were formed in the period of normal health and that have been oft repeated. The strife is very unequal between the new complex that weakly tends to estab- lish itself in the nerve centers, and the older complexes that are firmly established. Hence all the chances are that the old combinations will be called up later, instead of the newer one. These hints must suffice. For the rest, this.hypothesis as to the cause of progressive amnesia is only of secondary importance. Accepted or rejected, it in no wise affects the value of our law. IV. There is but little to be said of congenital amnesia. I will refer to it, so that nothing may be omitted. It is seen in idiots, in im- beciles, and in a minor degree in cretins. Most of the patients are afflicted with a gen- eral debility of memory. It varies according to individuals, and in some may be such as to render impossible the acquisition and re- tention of the simple habits which constitute the daily routine of life. But though a general debility of memory is the rule, frequent exceptions occur in prac- tice. Among these classes of patients there are some individuals who possess a very re- markable power of memory, within a re- stricted field. It is often observed in idiots and imbeciles that their several senses are affected in very different degrees. Thus, the hearing may be extremely acute and discriminating while the rest of the senses are dull. The arrest of development is not uniform at all points. Hence it is not surprising that debilitation of the general memory should coincide, in the same man, with the evolution or even the hypertrophy of a special memory. Thus some idiots, refractory to all other impres- sions, have a strong liking for music, and can remember an air they have heard only once. Others—and these cases are more rare—have memory of form and color, and show a certain skill in drawing. More fre- quently we find memory of numbers, dates, proper names, and words in general. "An imbecile remembered the date of every burial that occurred in a parish for thirty-five years. He could repeat with unfailing exactitude the names and ages of the deceased, as also of those who had conducted the funerals. Beyond this mortuary record he had not one idea; he could not answer the simplest ques- tion, he was incapable even of serving him- self with his food." Some idiots that are unable to make the simplest calculations, will repeat without a slip the multiplication table. Others will recite by heart whole pages that they have heard read from books, though they cannot name a single letter of the alpha- bet. Drobisch relates the following fact of which he was himself a witness: a boy of fourteen years, nearly idiotic, had great diffi- culty in learning to read; yet he remembered with wonderful facility the order in which the words and letters succeeded one another. Give him two or three minutes to go over a page printed in a language unknown to him, or treating of subjects of which he knew nothing, and he could from memory spell all the words there found, precisely as though the book lay open before him.* The exist- ence of these partial memories is so common a fact that it has been turned to account in educating idiots and imbeciles.f It is further to be remarked that some idiots subject to mania or other acute disorders re- gain a temporary memory. Thus, "an idiot, become a maniac, narrated a rather complex occurrence of which he had many years be- fore been a witness, and which had seemed to make no impression upon him. "J In congenital amnesia it is the exceptions that are instructive. Our law simply confirms the commonplace truth that the memory de- pends on the constitution of the brain, and in idiots and imbeciles the brain is abnormal. But the formation of these limited, partial memories helps us to understand certain dis- * Drobisch, " Empirische Psychologie," p. 561. Dr. Herzen writes to me about a Russian, from Arch- angel, now twenty-seven years of age, who was stricken with imbecility at the close of a debauch. Of the brilliant faculties of his adolescence all that he retained was an extraordinary memory, so that he could instantaneously perform the most difnculi operations in arithmetic or algebia, and repeat word for word long pieces of po«try after hearing them read only once. 1 See "Ireland's work " On Idiocy and Imbecility," London, 1877. % Gricsinger, op. cit., p. 431. « 32 [484] THE DISEASES OF MEMORY. orders of which we have not yet treated. I am inclined to believe that the methodical study of what occurs in idiots would enable us to determine the anatomical and physio- logical conditions of memory. We will re- turn to this point in the next chapter. CHAPTER III. PARTIAL AMNESIA. Reduction of memory 10 memories—Anatomi cal and physiological reasons for partial memories—Amnesia of numbers, names, figures, forms, etc.—Amnesia of signs— Its nature; a loss of motor-memory—Ex- amination of this point—Progressive am- nesia of signs verifies completely the law of regression—Order of dissolution: proper names; common nouns; verbs and adjec- tives ; interjections and language of the emotions; gestures—Relation between this dissolution and the evolution of the Indo- European languages—Counter-proof: re- turn of signs in inverse order I. Before we proceed to the consideration of partial amnesia we must first remark upon the varieties of memory. Without such pre- liminary remarks the facts we are about to state would appear inexplicable. That a man should lose only his memory of words, or should forget one language, retaining others, or that a language long forgotten should come back to him suddenly, or that he should be bereft of his musical memory and of that alone—these things are so odd and strange on first view that were it not that they are vouched for by the most scrupulous ob- servers, they might well be relegated among fables. But if, on the other hand, we have a clear idea of what is meant by the word mem- ory, the marvelous disappears,and these facts, so far from surprisiug us, appear as the nat- ural, logical consequence of a morbid influ- ence. The employment of the word memory as a general term is perfectly correct. It desig- nates a property common to all sentient and thinking creatures—the possibility of retain- ing impressions and of reproducing them. But the history of psychology shows that there is a tendency to forget that this term, like all other terms, has a real signification only in particular cases: that memory resolves itself into memories, just as the life of an organ- ism resolves itself into the life of the or- gans, tissues, anatomical elements that com- pose it. "The ancient and still unexplod- ed error," says Lewes, "which treats mem- ory as an independent function, a faculty, for which a separate organ, or seat, is sought, arises from the tendency continu- ally to be noticed, of personifying an abstrac- tion. Instead of recognizing it as the short hand expression for what is common to all concrete facts of remembrance, or for the sum of such facts, many writers suppose it to have an existence apart. * Though every-day experience has long noted the natural inequality of the different forms of memory in one ana the same per- son, psychologists either have not interested themselves in that fact, or have denied it on principle. Dugald Stewart seriously main- tains that "original disparities among men in this respect are by no means so immense as they seem to be at first view, and that much is to be ascribed to different habits of attention, and to a difference of selection among the various objects and events pre- sented to their curiosity."} Gall, who was the first to make a stand against this tend- ency, ascribed to each faculty a memory of its own, and denied the existence of memory as an independent faculty. Contemporary psychology, more careful than the old-school psychology to omit noth- ing, and more concerned about exceptions that afford instruction, has brought to light a considerable number of facts which remove all doubt as to the natural inequality of trie- several memories in the same individual. Taine gives many excellent examples of this. We may cite in illustration Horace Vernet and Gustave Dore, painters, who can paint a portrait from memory; chessplayers who can carry on one or more games in mind; Utile calculating prodigies like Zerah Colburn who " see their sums before their eyes"; \ the man mentioned by Lewes who, after walking half a mile down a street, could name all the shops in their respective positions; Mozart writing the notes of the Sistine chapel Miserere after hearing it twice. For details I refer the reader to special treatises, || as I have no occasion to discuss the question here. It is enough that the reader hold these inequalities of the memory for well established. Let u- now see how they are explained ; we shall then see what they themselves explain. What is implied by these partial memories? Special development of a special sense with the anatomical structures dependent on it. To make this clearer, take a particular case —for instance a good visual memory. This has for its condition a good structure of the eye, of the optic nerve, and of the portions of the brain which concur in the act of vision —that is to say (according to the received no- tions of anatomists) certain portions of the pons, the crura, the optic tract, and the * Op. cit,, Vol. Ill, p. no. t "Philosophy of the human Mind." X I have had occasion to note that many calculators. do not see their figures nor their sums, but that they hear them. So far as our theory is concerned it matters little whether the images are visual or auditive. J Taine, "Intelligence," vol. i, part i. Book II ch. i, § x; Luys.'The Brain and its Functions-J ewes, loc. cit. • THE DISEASES OF MEMORY. [485] 33 hemispheres. These structures, higher by hypothesis than Jthe average, are perfectly adapted to receive and to transmit impres- sions. Conseqnently the modifications which the nerve-elements undergo, as also the dy- namic associations formed between them— and these, as we have often said, are the bases of memory—ought to be more stable, more definite, more easily revived, than in an ordinary brain. In short, to say that a visual organ has a good anatomical and phys- ical constitution, is to say that it presents the conditions of a good visual memory. We may go further, and say that the term " a good visual memory " is too broad. Daily experience shows us that one person recol- lects forms best, another person colors. It is probable that the former's memory de- pends mainly on the muscular sensibility of the eye, that of the latter on the reti- na and the nervous apparatus connected with it. These remarks apply to hearing, smell, taste, and those diverse forms of sensibility comprised under the general name of touch— in short, all sense perceptions. If we reflect upon the close relations sub- sisting between the feelings, the emotions, the general sensibility, and the physical con- stitution of each individual, and if we con- sider how dependent these physical states are upon the organs of animal life, we shall un- derstand that these organs bear the same re- lation to the feelings that the organs of sense do to sense perceptions. Through differ- ences of constitution, the impression trans- mitted may be faint or strong, stable or trans- ient : here are so many conditions to modify the memory of feelings and sentiments. The preponderance of any system of organs— those of generation for example—gives the superiority to one group of recollections. There remain the higher psychic states- abstract ideas and complex sentiments. These cannot be referred directly to any or- gan : the seat of their production and repro- duction has never been localized with pre- cision. But as they no doubt result from an association or a dissociation of primary states, there is no ground for supposing that they are exceptional. The foregoing remarks may be summed up thus. In the same individual an unequal de- velopment of the several senses and of the several organs produces unequal modifications in the corresponding parts of the nervous system, and consequently varieties of mem- ory. It is probable even that inequality of memories in the same person is the rule, not the exception. As we have no exact pro- cesses for weighing and measuring them separately, and comparing them with one another, we offer the foregoing only as a con- jecture. An indirect proof might be drawn from the antagonism between the different forms of memory : this is a point that might give occasion for much curious research, but it is beside our subject. * Finally, no objection can be brought from the influence of edu- cation. Of course education counts for much, but it hardly does anything more than to fos- ter what nature has already singled out ; and in certain cases it has been unable to act any part. In psychology, as in an sciences based on facts, experience decides in the last resort. We would remark however that the relative independence of the different forms of memory might have been demonstrative by reasoning alone. In fact it is a corollary of the two propositions following, viz.: i, Every recollection has its seat in certain determinate parts of the brain; 2, The brain and the cerebral hemispheres themselves "consist of a number of organs totally differentiated, each one of which possesses a function of its own, though it remains most closely con- nected with the others." This latter pro- position is now accepted by most authors who study the nervous system. In physiology indeed the distinction of partial memories is now currently received,} but in psychology the method of " faculties" has succeeded so well in having the memory regarded as a unit that the existence of partial memories has been completely forgotten or has been taken for an anomaly. It was needful that I should bring the reader back to the reality and remind him that in the last analysis there exist only special, or as some authors say, local memories. We willingly accept this latter term provided it be borne in mind that we have to do here with a distributed localiz- ation, according to the hypothesis of dynamic associations already set forth. The memory has often been compared to a store-house where all our items of knowledge are kept in separate shelves. If this simile is to be retained it must be presented in a more active form—each particular memory would be compared to a squad of employees charged with a special and exclusive branch of business. One of these squads may be dropped without throwing all the rest into confusion. This is what occurs in partial disorders of memory. After these preliminary observations, we proceed to study the pathology of memory. If in the normal state the different forms of memory are relatively independent, it is perfectly natural that in the morbid state one form should disappear, leaving the rest intact. This fact must appear to us now as simple, and needing no explanation, resulting as it does from the very nature of memory. * On the antagonism of memories, see Heibert Spencer, " Principles of Psychology," vol. i. t See in particular Ferrier," Functions of the Brain." Even Gratiolet "Anatomie Comparee," Vol. II, p. 460, remarked that " to each sense corresponds a memory that is correlative to it, and that the mind like the body has its temperaments which result from the predominance of a given order of sensations in the natural habits of the mind." 34 [486] THE DISEASES OF MEMORY. True, many partial disorders are not restrict- >ed to only one group of recollections. This will not excite surprise if we reflect on the close solidarity of all the parts of the brain, their functions and the psychic states there- with connected. Still we shall find a certain mumber of cases in which the amnesia is Qimited. A complete study of partial amnesia would involve the examination, one after another, of the different manifestations of psychic activity, and proving from examples that each group of recollections may disap- pear, whether for a time or forever. We can by no means carry out that plan. We are unable even to say whether certain forms are never partially affected, and never dis- appear, save when there is total dissolution of the memory. We must look to the future tfor fuller or more conclusive pathological proofs. Properly speaking there is only one form of partial amnesia that may be studied thoroughly—the amnesia of signs (whether spoken or written signs, interjections, gestures.) It is rich in all sorts of facts explicable by the law formulated in the preceding chapter. Leaving that for separate study, we will state what is known with regard to other forms of partial amnesia. "Some persons," writes Calmeil, * "have lost the power of reproducing certain sounds, or certain colors, and have had to abandon music or painting ; others lose only the mem- ory of numbers, figures, a foreign language, proper names, or the existence of their near- est relatives." We offer a few examples. The case of Sir Henry Holland, narrated by himself in his "Mental Pathology" (p. 160), has often been quoted : " I descended on the same day two very deep mines in the Harz Mountains, remaining some hours under- ground in each. While in the second mine, and exhausted both by fatigue and inanition, I felt the utter impossibility of talking longer with the German inspector who accompanied me. Every German word and phrase deserted my recollection : and it was not until I had taken food and wine, and been some time at rest that I regained them again." This case, though the one best known is far from being unique. Dr. Beattie tells of a friend of his, who having received a blow on the head, lost all he ever knew of Greek, his memory in other respects appearing to be in- tact. This loss of languages that have been acquired by study, has often been noted as a result of sundry fevers. " So as regards music. A child having re- ceived a severe blow on the head, was uncon- scious for three days. On coming to himself he had forgotten all the music he had learned; nothing else was lost." f Other cases are more complex. A patient who had forgotten * " Dictionnaire en trente volumes," art. Amnesic. + Carpenter, " Mental Physiology, p. 443. the values of the musical notes, was able to play a tune after hearing it. Another could write musical notes, even compose music and recognize a melody he heard executed ; but he was unable to play with the notes before him.* These facts showing as they do the complexity of our mental operations, even of those which seem most simple, will be con- sidered later. In some cases the best organized recol- lections, the most stable, disappear instan- taneously, while others presenting the same character remain intact. Thus Abercrombie tells of a surgeon who having been thrown from his horse and suffered an injury in the head, gave the minutest directions upon coming to himself as to his treatment. But he no longer remembered that he had a wife and children, and this forgetfulness lasted for three days.f Is this fact to be explained on the theory of mental automatism ? This sur- geon, though half insensible, remembers his professional knowledge. Some patients lose entirely the memory of proper names, even their own. We shall see later, when we come to study the amnesia of signs, in its perfect evolution—as it is seen in the aged—that these proper names are al- ways soonest forgotten. In the cases that follow, this forgetfulness was the symptom of softening of the brain. A certain man, unable to recall the name of a friend, had to take his interlocutor to the door on which was a plate bearing the name. Another person, after an attack of apoplexy, was unable to recall the names of any of his friends, though he designated them correctly by their ages. Mr. von B., formerly Envoy to Madrid, and afterward to St. Petersburg, was about to make a visit, but could not tell the servants his name. '' Turning round immediately to a gentleman who accompanied him, he said with much earnestness, ' For God's sake, tell me who I am !' The question excited laughter, but as Mr. von B. insisted on being answered, add- ing that he had entirely forgotten his own name, he was told it, whereupon he finished his visit." % In other instances an apoplectic attack is followed only by amnesia of numbers. A traveler after long exposure to cold expe- rienced a great weakening of the memory. He could not himself make any calculation, nor retain for a moment any operation in numbers. Forgetfulness of faces is frequent, nor need this excite surprise, for in the normal state many persons have this kind of mem- ory very ill developed and very instable; be- sides, the memory of faces must be the result of a pretty complex mental synthesis. Lou- yer Villermay gives an amusing example: * Kussmaul, " Die Stoiungen der Sprache," p. 181; Proust, " Archives generales de medecine." 1872. t Abercrombie. " Intellectual Powers." X Forbes Winslow, op. cit. THE DISEASES OF MEMORY. [487] 35 "An old man being in the company of his wife imagined her to be a lady whom he had in the past been wont to visit every evening, and he would repeat again and again, ' Mad- am I cannot remain longer; I must return to my wife and children.' " Carpenter tells us of a distinguished scientist whom he had known from child- hood, that though turned seventy years of age he was still full of vigor, but that his memory was failing. In particular, he forgot recent occurrences and words in most fre- quent use. "Though continually at the British Museum, the Royal .Society, and the ■Geological Society, he would be unable to refer to either by name, but would speak of 'that public place.' He still continued his visits to his friends, and recognized them in ;their own homes, or in other places (as the Scientific Societies) where he had been ac- customed to meet them; but the writer, on meeting him at the house of one of the oldest friends of both, usually residing in London, but then staying at Brighton, found that he was not recognized; and the same want of recognition shewed itself when the meeting took place out of doors. The want of mem- ory of words then showed itself more con- spicuously, one word being substituted for another, sometimes in a manner that showed the chain of association to be (as it were) bent or distorted. Thus, he told a friend that 'he had had his umbrella washed,' the meaning of which was gradually discovered to be that he had had his hair cut. His memory steadily declined, and he died of apoplexy."* In this instance there is seen simulta- neously existing amnesia of proper names, and names of things, and amnesia of faces ; but what is most curious is the part played by the law of contiguity. Recognition of persons is not spontaneous, suggested simply by their presence. To have recognition, it must be suggested or rather aided by the actual im- pression of the places where they habitually are. The recollection of these places, fixed by the experience of a life-time, and become almost organic, remains stable : it serves as a fixed point to call out other recollections. The names of these " public places " is not revived : the association between the object and the sign is too faint. But the recollec- tion of faces is in operation, being dependent on a stable sort of association, namely conti- guity in place. The one category, of associa- tion that has survived assists in reviving an- other category, which, left to its own re- sources, would not have been called up. It were an easy thing, but profitless to the reader, to enumerate cases of partial amnesia. It is enough to have shown by a few exam- iples wherein partial amnesia consists. The question naturally arises whether the forms of memory which disease either dis- * Op. cit., p. 545- organizes for good or only temporarily sus- pends, are the ones that are best established, or only the weakest. We cannot answer posi- tively. Logically, it would seem that the morbid influences must follow the line of least resistence : and the facts appear to con- firm this hypothesis. In most cases of partial amnesia it is the least stable forms of memory that are attacked. At least I do not know of a single case in which, any organic form being suspended or abolished, the higher forms have remained intact. Yet it were rash to deny that this has never occurred. We may therefore only reply to the ques- tion with an hypothesis till we shall be in pos- session of fuller information. For the rest it would be contrary to scientific method to refer to one law all sorts of cases de- pending on special conditions. A thorough study of each case and its causes is necessary before we can declare them all to be reducible to one formula. Just now the problem is too obscure to permit of this being donv. The same remarks apply to the process by which these forms of amnesia are produced. In the first place we know nothing about the psychological mechanism special to each form. Here all means of explanation fail us. As regards the psychological mechanism we may venture an hypothesis. In the cases of par- tial amnesia we have been considering two things in particular worthy of note, viz., de- struction and suspension. Destruction is the direct result of the disorganization of the nerve-elements. In the case of suspension a certain group of elements remains temporarily isolated and powerless, or, in psychological I anguage, it stands outside of the mechanism of association. This explanation is suggested by the case cited by Carpenter. The solidarity ex- isting between the different parts of the brain, and consequently between the different psy- chic states persists, as a rule. These groups alone, with the sum of recollections that they represent, are in a manner made immobile, inaccessible to the other groups, incapable for a time of entering into the consciousness. This state must be the result of psycholog- ical conditions which escape our notice. II. We have reserved for special study one form of partial amnesia—that of signs. Here we use the term signs in its broadest sense, comprising all the means man em- ploys for expressing his feelings and thoughts. The subject is one that is clearly defined and rich in facts at once like and unlike, inas- much as they possess a common physiolog- ical character in that they are signs, while they differ as to the nature of the signs, which are either vocal of written signs, ges- tures, drawings, or music. They are easily observed and of every-day occurrence, and well localized; and owing to their variety they are well suited for comparison and analysis. Besides, as we shall see, this species of par- 36 [488] THE DISEASES OF MEMORY. tial amnesia very strikingly confirms the law of the destruction of memory laid down in the preceding chapter in its most general form. But first we must guard against a misun- derstanding. The reader may suppose that we are about to study aphasia: but not so. In most cases, aphasia, it is true, implies a disorder of the memory, but it implies some- thing more; and it is only with disorders of memory that we are concerned. The re- searches made during the last forty years upon the diseases of the faculty of language, have shown that under this one term, aphasia, are included cases that differ very widely from one another. The reason is that aphasia being, not a disease, but a symptom, varies according to the morbid conditions that produce it. Thus, some aphasic sub- jects are deprived of every mode of expres- sion; others are able to speak but not to write, or vice versa; the loss of gesture is much less frequent. Sometimes the patient retains a pretty considerable vocabulary of vocal and graphic signs, but speaks and writes in counter-sense (paraphasia, par- agraphia). Or he does not understand the signification of words whether written or spoken, though hearing and sight be intact, (word-deafness, word-blindness). Aphasia is either permanent or transitory: oftentimes, it is accompanied by hemiplegia. This hem- iplegia—which nearly always attacks the right side—is in itself, quite apart from am- nesia, an obstacle to writing. * These principal forms present varieties accord- ing to the individuals affected. From this, the reader may have some idea of the complexity of the question. Fortunately, we have not to discuss it here. Our task—and it is one of no little difficulty—consists in de- termining among these disorders of speech and of the expressive faculty in general, that which seems to belong to memory alone. Plainly, we have nothing to do with cases where aphasia results from idiocy, dementia, or loss of memory in general; neither with cases where the power of transmission alone is impaired: thus a lesion of the white matter of the brain, in the neighborhood of the third left frontal convolution may impair the ex- pressive faculty, the gray matter being intact, f But after these two causes are eliminated, the difficulty is hardly lessened, for aphasia usually occurs under quite other conditions. We will examine it under its most ordinary form. There is no need to cite instances, which the reader may find everywhere. + Usually, * In left-handed subjects of aphasia the hem- iplegia is always on the left side. + For cases of this kind, see Kussmaul, " Die Storungen der Sprache," p 90. X The literature of aphasia is so plentiful that a sim- ple enumeration of works or memoirs would occupy several pages. For the psychological aspects, the reader may consult Trousseau, " Clinique Medi- aphasia appears suddenly. The patient is1 unable to speak; if he tries to write, there is a like inability; at best he is able, with great difficulty, to trace a few unintelligible words. His physiognomy retains the look of intel- ligence. He strives to convey his meaning by gestures. For the rest, there is no paral- ysis of the muscles that serve to articulate words; the tongue moves freely. Such are the general traits, at least the ones which most interest us just now. What has occurred in the psychic state of the patient, and, as regards the memory, what is it that he has lost ? A little reflec- tion suffices to show that amnesia of signs is a phenomenon of quite a special character. It is not to be compared to the forgetfulness of colors, sounds, a foreign language, or a. period of life. It extends to all the activ- ities of the mihd, and so far forth it is gen- eral; and yet it is partial only, for the patient retains his ideas and his recollections, and is conscious of his own situation. In our opinion, the amnesia of signs is above all a disease of the motor memory: that it is which gives it its special character and makes it assume for us a new aspect. But what is meant by '' motor memory," an ex- pression which may at first cause surprise ? The matter has been so little studied by psy- chologists, that it is difficult to discourse of it clearly in a summary way, and it cannot be treated here at any length. I have endeavored in another place, * though not with sufficient fullness, to show the psy- chological importance of movements, and to prove that every state of consciousness im- plies in some degree motor elements. But to confine ourselves to the matter in hand, I would remark that no one finds difficulty in admitting that our perceptions, our ideas, our intellectual acts in general are not fixed in us, and have no part in memory except there exist in the brain certain residua—modi- fications of nerve-elements and of the dynamic associations of those elements. On this condii- tion alone are they retained and recalled. But the same must of necessity hold good for movements. The movements under consid- eration, those which take place in articulate speech, writing, drawing, music, gestures, can be retained and reproduced only on con- dition that there are motor residua, i. e-, ac- cording to the hypothesis so often set forth, modifications in the nerve-elements and dy- namic associations between those elements. But whatever opinion one may adopt, if nought remained of a word spoken or written for the first time, it were impossible either to read or to write. cale, vol. II; Fabret, art. "Aphasia" in " Diet. 1 encycl. des sciences medic;" Proust, "Archives- ) gen de med, 1872; Kussmaul, ubi supra; H. 'I J«aC« ?' ?on the Affect,ons °f Speech," \k Brain, 1878, 1879 1880, ete. * \'iRe7Ut Phil°sophique," Oct., 1879 ; see also an , of Mind "C " Maudsley's work, "Physiology THE DISEASES OF MEMORY. [489] 37 The existence of motor residua admitted, we may understand the nature of sign-am- nesia. Our intellectual activity consists, as we know, in a series of states of consciousness associated according to certain relations. Each term of a series seems to the conscious- ness simple, but it is not so in reality. When we speak of think with anything like precision, all the terms of a series form couples, made up of the thought and its expression. In the normal state the fusion of these two elements is so complete that they form one, but disease shows that they can be dissociated. Further, the expression '' couple " does not suffice. It is exact only for that portion of the human race that cannot write. When I think of a house, over and above the mental representa- tion which is the state of consciousness proper, over and above the vocal sign which translates that thought and which seems to form one thing with it, there exists a graphic element that is almost as intimately blended with the thought, and which, when I write, becomes even predominant. Nor is that all: around the vocal sign, '' house," are grouped, by a less intimate association, the vocal signs used in other languages with which I am acquainted—maison, domus, Hans, casa, etc. Around the graphic sign, "house," are grouped the graphic signs of those same languages. Thus we see that in an adult mind, each clear state of consciousness is not a simple unit, but a complex unit, a group. The mental representative, the thought, is, properly speaking, only the nucleus, around which are grouped signs more or less numer- ous which determine it. This understood, the mechanism of sign- . amnesia becomes clearer. It is a pathologi- cal state in which, the idea being intact or nearly so, a part of the signs or all the signs which translate it are temporarily or forever forgotten. This general proposition must be . completed by a more detailed study. i. Is it true that in aphasic subjects, thought subsists, while its verbal and graphic expression has disappeared ? I would remark that it is not incumbent on us to inquire here whether one can think with- out signs. The question we have to discuss is altogether different. The aphasic subject has for a long time been using signs: do his ideas disappear with the power of giving them utterance? The facts answer in the negative. Though authors are unanimous in declaring that aphasia, especially when it is of long standing and of a serious character, is always accompanied by a certain decline of -mental power, there is no doubt that mental activity persists even when it has no other mode of expression but gestures. Instances abound, but I will cite only a few. Some patients deprived only of a portion of their vocabulary, but unable to find the right word, substitute for it a paraphrase or a description. For "scissors" they will say " what you cut with;" for window, " what you see through." They will designate a person by the place he lives in, by his titles, his occupation, his inventions, the books he has written.* In more serious cases we see patients play- ing cards with considerable caution and re- flection: others again are able to superintend the management of their business. Thus we have a great proprietor mentioned by Trousseau, "who by means of signs intelli- gible to those around him directed the leases and deeds to be laid before him, pointed out modifications to be made in them, and in most cases these modifications were useful and based on sound judgment." A man who was totally deprived of the power of speech, sent to his doctor a detailed account of his trouble written by himself in very correct language, and in a very firm hand. We have furthermore the testimony of pa- tients themselves after their recovery. '' I had forgotten all words," says one, "but I retained fully my consciousness and my will. I knew very well what I wanted to say, but could not. When you," (the physician), "asked me a question, I understood you perfectly; I made all sorts of efforts to reply, but it was impossible to recall the words."} Rostan, on being stricken suddenly so that fie was unable either to speak or to write a single word, " analyzed the symptoms of his disease and sought to refer them to some special lesion of the brain, just as he would have done in a clinical lecture." Lordat's case is well known: " He was capable of ar- ranging in his mind the matter of a lecture, of altering the distribution of the several headings; but when his thoughts had to be uttered in speech or in writing, it was found to be impossible, though there was no par- alysis." \ We may therefore regard it as proven that, all means of expression having disappeared, the intelligence remains almost intact, and consequently that the amnesia extends only to signs. 2. Does this amnesia depend, as we have said it does, especially upon the motor ele- ments ? When on a preceding page we en- deavored to prove the necessary existence of motor residua, we, did not examine the prob- lem in all its complexity. We must return to it: When we are learning to speak our mother tongue or a foreign language, certain sounds, acoustic signs, are registered in the-brain. But that registration is only a part of the * Very often the aphasic patient confounds words* and says "fire" when he means " bread," or even coins words that aie unintelligible. But these disor- ders seem to me to be rather a language-disease than a disease of memory. + Legroux, " De l'aphasie," p. 96. X For the facts see especially Trousseau, op. cit. Lordat, who is a strong spiritualist, (i. e., advocate or the doctrine of an immaterial principle or soul_ in man), has from these cases drawn conclusions favoring i the independence of mind. 38 [490] THE DISEASES OF MEMORY. task, for we have to repeat these signs, to pass from the receptive to the active state, to translate these acoustic signs into vocal move- ments. This operation is at first very diffi- cult, for it consists in co-ordinating move- ments that are very complex. We are able .to speak only when these movements are readily reproduced, that is, when the motor residua have been organized. In learning to write we fix our eyes on the copy ; optic signs are thus registered in the brain ; then, with much effort we strive to re- produce these by the motions of the hand. Here, too, there is co-ordination of very complex movements. We are able to write only when the optical signs are immediately translated into movements, that is, when the motor residua are organized. The same is to be said of music, drawing, acquired gestures, (for instance, those taught to deaf mutes). The expressive faculty is more' complex than it seems to be. Our thotrghts and feelings have need of an acotJStic (or optical) memory—a motor mem- ory!6- Now, what is there to prove that it is precisely this motor memory that is affected in eases of amnesia of signs ? Consider the phenomena observable in most-cases of aphasia. Present to the apha- sic subject any familiar object, for instance a knife, and call it by some other name, as fork, book, etc. ; he will contradict you. Pronounce the true name and he expresses assent by gesture. If you ask him then and there to repeat the name, it is but seldom that he will be able to do so. Therefore, he has retained not only the idea but also its acoustic sign ; for this he recognizes among many other signs. But since he cannot translate it into speech, though his vocal organs are intact, it follows that the amnesia must affect the motor elements. The same experiment may be made with regard to writing. Among aphasic subjects, who are not paralyzed, it leads to the same results. The patient retains the memory of the optical signs, but has lost the memory of the movements necessary for their reproduc- tion. Some patients can copy, but when the original is taken from them they are help- less. However, while I hold that motor amnesia exists in most cases, I do not claim that it is always present. In so complex a subject, it is best not to pronounce absolutely. When the aphasia is irremediable we sometimes find the patient forgetting the vocal or written signs, or recognizing them only with great difficulty and with much hesitation.. In such cases amnesia is not restricted to the motor elements. ^Again, some aphasic patients can, as we have seen, repeat a word or copy it; others can read aloud, though they are un- able to speak in conversation. This is an exceptional case (Fairet,v_p. 618). On the other hand, many can read to themselves, pened, though rarely, that an aphasic patient: would utter spontaneously one portion of a phrase, and then be unable to continue. Brown-Sequard cites even the case of a phy- sician who spoke in his dreams, though aphasic in the waking state. These facts, infrequent though they be, show that motor amnesia is not always absolute. It is with this form of memory as with all other forms: under certain exceptional circumstances it revives. We may in passing note an analogy. The aphasic patient who succeeds in repeating a word exactly, resembles one who is unable to' recall an occurrence save with the assistance of other persons : the psychological mechan- ism of the amnesia of signs is the same as for all other kinds of amnesia. It consists of a dissociation : a fact is forgotten when it cannot be awakened by an association, when it cannot enter into any series. In aphasia the thought no longer calls forth its appro- priate sign, or at least its motor expression. Here however, the dissociation is more com- plete : there is dissociation not only between terms united by prior experience, but between elements so knit together that they form for consciousness a unity; to assert their rela- tive independence of one another would seem to be mere hair-splitting were it not demon- strated by pathological facts. * It is this perfect fusion of the thought, the sign (whether vocal or written) and the motor element which makes it so difficult to prove clearly and indisputably that sign-amnesia is mainly motor amnesia. As every state of consciousness tends to translate itself into motion ; and as, according to Bain's happy phrase, to think is to restain oneself from speech or action, it is impossible by analysis alone to draw clear lines of demonstration between these three elements. Still it ap- pears to me that the memory of vocal and written signs which survives in the intelligent aphasic patient, represents fairly what has been called the inner speech, that minimum of ideation without which the mind would be on the way toward dementia ; and conse- quently that the motor elements alone are suppressed in sign-amnesia. On consulting what has been written by physicians who have studied the psychology of amnesia, and they are but few, I find that their doctrine differs in hardly any respect from that here set forth, save in terminology. "I have asked .myself," says Trousseau, "whether [aphasia] is not simply a forgetting * Authors have in late years carefully described un- le of Word-blindness " (Wordblindheit> and " Word-deafness " (Worttaubheit) maladies that have long been confounded under the general desig- nation of Aphasia The patient is able to read and write, sight and hearing are well retained, and yet the words he reads or hears spoken have for him no meanmg. For him they are simply optical oracoustic phenomena and are no longer signs. This is another though unable to read aloud. It has hap-' Su.^Op c™ chap3^?1 the earliest acquisitions which are also the most firmly grounded, gives to them a mo- mentary activity and then effaces them forever, Hypermnesia therefore is simply the result of conditions entirely negative ; regression re- sults, not from a normal return to conscious- ness, but from the suppression of more vivid, more intense states. These revived mem- ories are like a feeble voice that can make it- self heard only when more powerful voices are stilled. These acquisitions and habits of childhood or of youth come into the fore- ground, not because there is anything urging them to the front, but because there is nothing any longer to overlie them. Revivi- scences of this kind are, strictly speaking, only a reversion back to conditions of exist- ance that seemed to have vanished forever, but which the work of demolition brings to light again. I refrain however from the re- flections that these facts sonaturallysugrgest. and leave them for the moralist. He will be able to point out for instance how certain religious reversions occurring in the last mo- ments of life, and which make so much noise in the world of polemics, are but the neces- sary effect of irremediable dissolution. Independently of this unexpected con- firmation of our law of regression, the out- come of our study of hypermnesia is a knowledge of the surprising persistence of those latent conditions of recollection which have been called "residua." But for these disorders of memory, we should not have suspected their existence, for consciousness, of itself, can only affirm the conservation of the states which constitute our everyday life and of certain other states which the will holds in dependence upon itself, because habit has fixed them. Are we to infer from the fact of these rev viviscences that nothing is lost from the Op. cit. p. 253; see also p 265, 266, 303. ■44 [496] THE DISEASES OF MEMORY memory ? That whatever is once registered therein is indestructible, and that even the anost transient impression may at one time or another be revived. Many authors, Maury in particular, have contributed striking ex- amples in support of this opinion. But should any one maintain that, even in the absence of morbid causes, some residua dis- appear, there is nothing known whereby he might be peremptorily refuted. Possibly •some cellular modifications and some dynamic associations are too instable to last. Still it may be said that persistence, if not the rule without exceptions, is nevertheless the rule: it embraces the great majority of cases. Of the mode in which these old-time recol- .lections are preserved and reproduced, we know nothing, but I may point out how this .might take place on the hypothesis set forth in the present work. If we accept as the material substratum of • our recollections cell modifications and dynam- ic associations, any memory, however bur- dened it may be with impressions, may keep them all. For though cell modifications are limited in number, dynamic associations are innumerable. We may suppose that the old .associations reappear when the new ones, dis- organized for a time or permanently, leave the field clear for them. The number of possible reviviscences being much reduced, the chances are proportionately increased for the return of the more stable, i. e., the oldest associations. But I will not dwell on an hy- pothesis that cannot be verified. I desire to confine my observations to that which can be ascertained. We cannot refer to any of the preceding morbid types one illusion of a singular char- acter, one besides that is of rare occurrence or seldom observed. Three cases of this il- lusion only are on record, and no specific name has been offered to designate it. Wigan has called it, inaptly enough, double-con- sciousness, and Sander defines it to be an il- lusion of memory (Erringerungstauschung). Other authors have given it the name of false memory, and this seems to me to be preferable. It consists in a belief that a state of consciousness that in reality is new was experienced oefore, so that when it first occurs it is thought to be a repetition. Wigan in his well-known work, "Duality of the Mind," states that while he was at- tending the obsequies of the Princess Char- lotte in Windsor Chapel, of a sudden the feeling came upon him that before he had witnessed the same spectacle. The illusion -was transitory, but we shall see cases in which it it more lasting. Lewes justly classes this phenomenon with others of more frequent occurrence. While journeying in regions never before visited by us, a turn of the road or a bend in the river brings us in sight of some landscape that we have seen before; meeting a person for the first time, we feel that we must have seen him elsewhere; on reading in a book a passage that certainly we never read before, we feel that the thoughts have once been in our minds. This illusion is easily explained. The new impression evokes from the past similar im- pressions, which, though indistinct, confused, evanescent, still suffice to give to the new state of consciousness the appearance of be- ing a repetition. There is a ground of re- semblance quickly perceived between the two states of consciousness which leads us to identify them. It is an error, but only a partial one, for there is in reality in our past something that resembles a prior experience of this present impression. While this ex- planation may do for very simple cases, there are others to which it will not apply. A patient, says Sander, on hearing of the death of one he had known, was seized with an indefinable terror, because it seemed to him that he had already had the impression. " It was as though, some time ago, while he was lying on this very bed, X came and told me that Miiller was dead. I replied, ' M tiller died some time since; he cannot die twice.'" Dr. Arnold Pick relates the most perfect instance of false memory I know of, the dis- order assuming an almost chronic form. An educated man who reasoned clearly about his malady, and who wrote a description of it, was, at about the age of thirty-two, seized with a peculiar mental disorder. If he at- tended a festival, or visited any place, or fell in with any one, the occurrence, with all its circumstances, seemed to him so familiar, that he firmly believed that he had already had the self-same impressions, in the com- pany of the same persons, under the same skies, the same weather, etc. If he did a piece of work, it seemed to him that he had done the very same work before under the same circumstances. This feeling occurred to him the same day, at the end of a few minutes, or a few hours, sometimes on the next day, but always with perfect distinctness. * In false memory there is an anomalous condition of the mental mechanism that eludes observation, and which it is difficult to understand in the healthy state. The patient, even though he were a good observer, could only analyze it by ceasing to be under the illusion. Still I think these instances show that the impression received is reproduced in the form of a sensorial image—in physiologi- cal terms, there is a repetition of the primary cerebral process. This is nothing extraordi- nary, it is what occurs in every recollection that is not called forth by the actual presence of its object. The difficulty is to say why this image, appearing a minute, an hour, a day, subsequent to the real state of conscious- ness, gives to the latter the appearance of being a repetition. We may suppose the mechanism of recollection, of localization in * " Archiv fur Psychiatrie," 1876. THE DISEASES OF MEMORY. [407] V. time to be working retrogressively. I venture to offer the following explanation : The image thus formed, as has been said, is highly intense—of the nature of an halluci- nation. Consequently the real impression is thrown into the background, bearing the less distinct character of a recollection. It is localized in the past, erroneously if you consider the facts objectively, rightly if you consider them subjectively. This hallucina- tional state, though very vivid, does not, in fact, efface the real impression ; but as it is produced by it and becomes detached from it, it appears like a subsequent experience. It takes the place of the real impression, ap- pears the more recent of the two, and in fact is the more recent. For us who look at the thing from without and in the light of what has taken place outside of the mind of the subject, it is not true that the impression has been received twice ; but from the point of view of the subject himself, who judges according to what consciousness tells him, it is true that the impression has been re- ceived twice, and within those limits his as- severation is incontestable. In support of this explanation I may add that false memory is nearly always associated with mental disorder. The patient spoken of by Pick was subject to one form of in- sanity—he supposed himself to be the victim of persecution. Hence the formation of hallucinational images is quite natural. Still I do not pretend that my explanation is the only possible one. The case being so very uncommon, further and more careful obser- vation is requisite CHAPTER V. CONCLUSION. Relations between the retention of perceptions and nutrition, between the reproduction of recollections and the general and local circu- lation—Influence of the quantity and qual- ity of the blood—Examples—The law of regression connected with a physiological principle and a psychological principle- Recapitulation. I. So far we have been describing the dis- eases of memory and seeking the law which eoverns them. Before we conclude we must fay a word as to the causes, of course we mean immediate, organic causes But even reduced to these terms the etiology of dis- orders of memory is very obscure, and very little is clearly ascertained with regard to it. Memory consists in retaining and repro- ducing: retention seems to depend above all on nutrition; reproduction on the general or the local circulation. I. Retention, which plays the more im- portant part since without it reproduction is impossible, presupposes a primary condition which can only be vaguely defined as a nor- mal constitution of the brain. As we have seen, idiots suffer from congenital amnesia, from innate inability to fix impressions in the memory. This primary condition is a postulate, not simply a condition of memory. but the necessary condition of the existence of memory. This normal condition of the brain being granted, it is not enough that impressions be received, they must be fixed, organically registered, incrusted, so to speak: they must become a permanent modification of the- brain; the modifications impressed upon the nerve-cells and nerve-filaments, and the dynamic associations between these elements^ must be made stable. This result can be produced only by nutrition. The brain, and particularly the gray matter, receives an enormous volume of blood. In no other part of the body is the nutritive function so active or so rapid. We know not the inner mechan- ism of this function. The minutest histo- logical research is unable to trace the ar- rangements and rearrangements of the mole- cules. We know only the effects—all beside is but induction. But all sorts of facts go to- show the close connection between nutrition and memory. It is matter of every-day observation that children learn with wonderful facility, and that anything, as languages, which calls only for memory, is readily learned by them. We know, furthermore, that habits—that is to say one form of memory-are far more easily formed in childhood, in youth, than in maturity. At that period of life, so great is the activity of ther nutritive process that new connections are rapidly formed. In the aged, on the con- trary, a rapid effacement of new impressions coincides with a considerable decline of this activity. That which is too quickly learned does not endure. When we say that a thing is "as- similated," we use no metaphor. I shall not dwell upon a truth that every one is ever re- peating, little suspecting that this psychic fact has an organic cause. To fix recollec- tions requires time, because nutrition does not accomplish its work instantaneously: the molecular movement constituting nutrition must proceed in one constant direction, and this end is served by the periodic renewal of the same impression.* *"A distinguished theatrical performer, says- Abercrombie, " in consequence of the sudden illness of another actor, had occasion to prepare himself, on very short notice, for a part which was entirely new to him • and the part was long and rather difficult. He acquired it in a very short time, and went through it with perfect accuracy, but immediately after the performance forgot every word of it. Characters which he had acquired in a more deliberate manner he never forgets, but can perform them at any time- without a moment's preparation; but in regard to tne- character now mentioned, there was the further and very singular fact that, though he has repeatedly 46 [498] THE DISEASES OF MEMORY. Fatigue in every shape is fatal to memory. The impressions received under such condi- tions are not fixed, and the reproduction of them is very laborious and often impossible. Now, fatigue is regarded as a state wherein, owing to the over activity of an organ, the nutrition suffers and halts. When the nor- mal conditions are restored, memory comes back again. The case already quoted from Sir Henry Holland is decisive upon this point. We have seen that in cases of temporary amnesia, caused by concussion of the brain, the amnesia is always retroactive, extending back to a period of greater or less duration, . anterior to the accident. This rule is almost without exception. Most physiologists who have studied this phenomenon, refer it to de- fective nutrition ; the organic registration, which consists in a nutritive modification of i the cerebral matter, has not had time to take ; place. Finally it is to be noted that the gravest form of disease of memory, namely the pro- gressive amnesia of the demented, of the aged, and of general paralytics, is produced , by a steadily increasing atrophy of the nerve- elements. The tubes and the cells undergo a process of degenerescence, and the latter eventually disappear, leaving behind an un- differentiated mass of matter. These physiological and psychological facts all show that there exists between nutrition and retention the relation of cause and effect. There is exact coincidence between their periods of rise and fall. Variations short or long in the one are repeated in the other. If the one be active, or moderate, or lauguish- ing, so is the other. Hence the retention of recollections must not be regarded metaphy- sically, and as a " state of the soul" subsist- ing no one knows where, but as an acquired : state of the cerebral organ implying the pos- sibility of states of consciousness whenever their conditions of existence are present. The extreme rapidity of nutritive changes in the brain, though at first it might appear to cause instability, in fact explains the fix- . ation of recollections. '' The waste follow- ing activity is restored by nutrition, and a trace or residuum remains embodied in the . constitution of the nervous center, becoming more complete and distinct with each suc- ceeding repetition of the impression; an ac- ■ ouired nature is grafted on the original nature of the cell by virtue of its plastic power." * performed it since that time, he has been obliged each time to prepare it anew, and has never acquired in regard to it that facility which is familiar to him -in other instances. When questioned respecting the mental process which he employed the first time he performed this part, he says that he lost sight entirely of the audience, and seemed to have nothing before him but the pages of the book from which he had learned it; and that if anything had occurred to in- terrupt the illusion, he should have stopped instant- ly." (Op. cit., p. 103.) * Maudsley, " Physiol, and Pathol, of the Mind". We here touch the ultimate cause of mem- ory biologically considered; it is an impreg- nation. It is therefore not surprising that an eminent English surgeon, in treating of the indellible impression made by infectious diseases on living tissues, should have in- dited the following passage, which seems made to our hand: " It is asked," says Sir James Paget, "how can the brain be the organ of memory when you suppose its sub- stance to be ever changing ? or how is it that your assumed nutritive change of all the par- ticles of the brain is not as destructive of all memory and knowledge of sensuous things as the sudden destruction by some great in- jury is ? The answer is, because of the ex- actness of assimilation accomplished in the formative process; the effect once produced by an impression on the brain, whether in perception or in intellectual act, is fixed and there retained; because the part, be it what it may, which has. been thereby changed, is exactly represented in the part which, in the course of nutrition, succeeds to it." * Paradoxical as the connection between an infectious disease and memory may seem, it is nevertheless rigorously exact, from the biological point of view. II. In a general way the reproduction of recollections seems to depend on the state of the circulation. This point is much more obscure than the preceding, and the data concerning it are very incomplete. One diffi- culty arises out of the rapidity with which the phenomena succeed one another, and their continual changes. Another difficulty is due to their complexity. For reproduction does not depend on the general circulation alone, but also on the special circulation of the brain, and probably there are in the latter, too, local variations that may exert a strong influence. Nor is that all. We have, fur- ther, to take into account the quality no less than the quantity of the blood. It is impossible to determine, even roughly, the part played by each of these factors in the mechanism of reproduction. We must be content with showing that circulation and re- production present correlative variations. The main facts going to confirm this view are as follows : Fever in its several degrees is accompanied by cerebral over-activity, and in this memory largely shares. We have already seen to what a degree of excitation it may attain. We know that in fever the rapidity of the circu- lation is excessive, that the constitution of the blood is changed, that it is loaded with elements resulting from too accelerated a pro- cess of combustion. Here we see a variation in quality and in quantity, which finds ex- pression in hypermnesia. Even when no fever exists, "impressions of trivial things, in which no particular inter- est was taken, often survive in memory when * " Lecture on Surgical Pathology. THE DISEASES OF MEMORY. [4'J9] 47 impressions of much more important or im-1 posing things fade away; and in considering ] the circumstances, it will frequently be found that such impressions were received when the | energies were high—when exercise, or pleas- ure, or both, had greatly raised the action of the heart. That at times, when strong emotion has excited the circulation to an exceptional degree, the clustered sensations yielded by surrounding objects are revivable with great clearness, often throughout life, is a fact no- ticed by writers of fiction as a trait of human nature."* Note again how easy and how rapid repro- duction is in that period of life when the blood flows swift and strong, but how slow and labored, when age slows the circulation. Also how in the aged the constitution of the blood is changed, being less rich in globules and in albumen. In persons debilitated by protracted disease, memory grows weak with the circulation. " Highly nervous subjects, in whom the ac- tion of the heart is greatly lowered, habitu- ally complain of loss of memory and inability to think—symptoms which diminish as fast as the natural rate of circulation is re- gained." \ There is exaltation of memory whenever the circulation has been modified by stimu- lants, as hasheesh, opium, etc., which excite the nervous system first, and then depress it. Other therapeutic agents produce the oppo- site effect; for instance, bromide of potassium, the action of which is sedative, hypnotic, retards the circulation, when taken in strong doses. A certain preacher had to give up •the use of the bromide, having lost nearly ;all power of memory. It returned when he ceased to take the medicine. The general conclusion to be drawn from all these facts is that the normal exercise of memory presupposes an active state of the circulation and a constitution of the blood rich in the materials necessary for integra- tion and disintegration. When this activity becomes excessive there is a tendency to morbid excitation; when it decreases, there is a tendency to amnesia. More definite con- clusions would have to rest on pure hypothe- sis Why is it that one category of recol- lections rather than another is revived or effaced ? We know not. There is in every case of amnesia and of bypermnesa so much that cannot be foreseen that it were vainito attempt an explanation. Probably it is Ai- tin ain recollections as a reversion of the mind back to states that seemed to have been effaced forever. We have connected our law with the phy- siological principle that dejjenerescence first affects that which is of most recent forma- tion; and with the psychological principle, that the complex disappears before the sim- ple, because it is less often repeated in expe- rience. Finally, our pathological study has led us to the conclusion that memory consists of an organization process having varying de- grees of perfection between these two extreme: limits—the new state, the organic registration. CONTENTS. PAGE. I Preface......... Chapter I.—Memory as a Biological Fact,...... i Memory essentially a biological fact, incidentally a psychic fact—Organic memory— Modifications of nerve-elements; dynamic associations between these elements— Conscious memory—Conditions of consciousness: intensity; duration—Uncon- scious cerebration—Nerve action is the fundamental condition of memory; con- sciousness is only an accessory—Localization in the past, or recollection—Mech- anism of this operations-It is not a simple and instantaneous act; it consists of the addition of secondary states of consciousness to the principal state of con- sciousness—Memory is a vision in time—Localization, theoretical and practical— Reference points—Resemblance and difference between localization in the future and in the past—All memory an illusion—Forgetfulness a condition of memory— Return to the starting point: conscious memory tends little by little to become automatic. Chapter II.—General Amnesia,.........• 17 Classification of the diseases of memory—Temporary amnesia—Epileptics—Forget- fulness of certain periods of life—Examples of re-education—Slow and sudden recoveries—Case of provisional memory—Periodical or intermittent amnesia— Formation of two memories, totally or partially distinct—Cases of hypnotism recorded by Macnish, Azam and Dufay—Progressive amnesia—Its importance; reveals the law which governs the destruction of memory—Law of regression; enunciation of this law—In what order memory fails—Counter-proof; it is recon- stituted in inverse order—Confirmatory facts—Congenital amnesia—Extraordi- nary memory of some idiots. Chapter III.—Partial Amnesia, ... .... Reduction of memory to memories—Anatomical and physiological reasons for partial memories—Amnesia of numbers, names, figures, forms, etc.—Amnesia of signs —Its nature; a loss of motor-memory—Examination of this point—Progressive amnesia of signs verifies completely the law of regression—Order of dissolution; proper names; common nouns; verbs and adjectives; interjections and language of the emotions; gestures—Relation between this dissolution and the evolution of the Indo-European languages—Counter-proof: return of signs in inverse order. Chapter IV.—Exaltation of Memory, or Hypermnesia, General excitation—Partial excitation—Return of lost memories—Return of forgot- ten languages—Reduction of this fact to the law of regression—Case of false memory—Examples, and a suggested explanation. Chapter V.—Conclusion...... 32 Relations between the retention of perceptions and nutrition, between tne reproduc tion of recollections and the general and local circulation—Influence of the quantity and quality of the blood—Examples—The law of regression connected with a physiological principle and a psychological principle—Recapitulation 4S PROGRESS AND POVERTY. By HENRY GEORGE. I6mc. 409 PAGES. PAPER COVER. Price, Only 20 Cents. By Mail, 24 Cents. By an arrangement with the publisher of this now celebrated work, I im en- abled to supply it retail at the very low price named. "Progress and Poverty" is universally admitted to bo the most original and moit forcible work in politico-economic science produced in our time. The book has been translated into all the languages of continental Europe and it is not too much to".say ol it, that it is producing a revolution in the domain of sociology and government. N. 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