… On the subject of Fritz’ total amnesias Algar adds: “All that Fritz loses (in his somnambulism and fits of abstraction) it is I who get hold of it.”1
How are these strange declarations to be explained? Is it true that in the principal person there is yet another who understands everything for the second time and retains the memory of it?
The position is essentially simpler and will be easier of approach if we remember what we have learned elsewhere about somnambulism. In typical somnambulism memory extends over the whole life, including normal periods as well as previous periods of somnambulism. The contrary is true of the normal state in which memory of the somnambulistic state is almost always impossible. The admirable researches of Janet,2 as also of others, have shown, moreover, that when the waking state A and the somnambulistic state B of an individual X show very wide general differences from the psychic and characterological point of view, the person in the somnambulistic state A is not always willing to identify himself with the normal individual, but sometimes speaks of him in the third person, although he sees before him all the past life of the individual X, and A as well as B are no other than particular states of X. An error of judgement has arisen: instead of recognizing that the general psychic state of X has changed, the subject falls into the mistake of no longer regarding states so foreign to himself as his own, but seeing them as a separate person.
Something else also escapes Fritz-Algar. In the Algar state he embraces all his past life, the normal periods as well as the (short) somnambulistic ones; he has even a certain hypermnesia: he remembers events which were not present to the memory in the normal state. But instead of realizing his own identity in the various successive periods he makes the mistake of believing that the normal state of Fritz is quite another person. As, however, he sees before him in memory the whole of Fritz’ life he interprets the positions by thinking he is always present in Fritz and has full control of his memory. On exceptional occasions Algar has an intuition that he only represents a part of the psychic existence of Fritz:
(Where did you get this name of Algar?) “I am Algar and do not know who gave me this name, but I may have got it out of Fritz.”
(Then you are in some sort Fritz’ consciousness?) “Exactly.”1
Thus the problem resolves itself very simply,2 and the solution throws light on the last remaining riddle.
Algar also predicts some of Fritz’ future actions, which the latter will carry out while himself half-unconscious. One day, for example, he declared to Lemaître: “Fritz will be taken home again to-day without knowing it, he will write a poem which he will bring to-morrow and perhaps also a Latin sentence.”
On the following day Fritz did in fact bring both: on one sheet of paper the poem which, without knowing how, he had written on the previous evening before dinner, and on the other sheet a Latin verse of which he did not know the meaning and which he must have written after dinner3 (manifestly under an inner compulsion).
Algar had boasted—he is a true Armenian—of possessing a special language and script. Lemaître therefore begged him to write in that language.
After a few seconds he replied in the affirmative, and that Fritz when awake would remember nothing about it. “In the night I am going to tell Fritz to write in my handwriting. He will not know that it is my doing, but I will make him get up and go back to bed again afterwards, and then on the next day he will see these childish scribblings and say: ‘Isn’t it funny, I found this on my table!’”4
The psychological state of things is here as follows: during somnambulism Fritz (Algar) proposes to write a poem on his return home. Then he executes this intention and in doing so falls back into an abnormal state (he had meanwhile returned to his normal one). The intention to carry out an action is realized in exactly the same way as many hypnotic suggestions, compulsively and mechanically, even if not, as a rule, unconsciously. The resolution taken by Fritz in the somnambulistic state remains alive under the threshold of consciousness, even after he has returned to normal, and fulfils itself as soon as the prescribed moment arrives. Everything occurs as if Fritz had received a corresponding suggestion from a hypnotist, the only difference being that in the present case it is not a hypnotist but actually Fritz who introduces into himself the “determining tendency” (autosuggestion) which will later release the action.1 The error concerning the non-identity of Fritz and Algar therefore leads Fritz the somnambulist into a remarkably inept mode of speech. He ought to say, “I propose to do this and that, this intention is realized in such a way that I observe nothing of it and am afterwards astonished to see the writing in question on the paper” (we may suppose that Fritz the somnambulist knows that things must happen thus, because he remembers previous cases where in the same way he proposed acts when in a state of somnambulism, and remembers, perhaps by a sort of hypermnesia2 how such somnambulistic resolutions were carried out later in the waking state, mechanically, without full consciousness). Instead of that he says, “I (Algar) will do this and that and Fritz will be very much surprised afterwards to find a letter written.”
Here are two other examples of realization of a tendency created during somnambulism.
Lemaître agreed with Fritz the somnambulist that the latter should add to a piece of homework a sheet with a poem on it. When Fritz in the waking state gave in his exercise book on the following day, Lemaître duly found the agreed paper inside without the normal Fritz having the least idea that there was an extra sheet in the book.3
Another time Lemaître agreed with Algar that the latter should write him a letter and gave him an addressed envelope for the purpose. This was executed in the following manner:
He explained to me that he had written his letter in one or two minutes during the previous night at one a.m., and that he at once slipped it into the envelope which I had given him. For this purpose Algar had made Fritz get up for a few minutes. Fritz had this envelope containing the letter in his pocket all day Friday without knowing it, then in the evening Algar, taking advantage of an errand which Fritz had to do at the shoemaker’s, took possession of his person and dropped the letter into the box.1
In the circumstances it will not be surprising to find that Algar, that is to say, Fritz in the somnambulistic state, remembers all sorts of previous states having the character of possession and over which Fritz had no control, which he was not able to “assimilate.”
(Did Algar know the two personalities who were in Fritz a few weeks ago?) “Yes, for I was already in him, but I should not have been able to merge them single-handed.” (When did this double personality begin?) “At school, and it would not have developed but for Fritz’ troubles. Between us (Algar and myself) we have made it disappear and when Fritz is well again he will never have known me. Then I shall go away, you will be able to explain everything to him and he will have difficulty in believing it.
(Why did Fritz’ second personality always play the part of an important personage?) It was so that he should not be too harshly treated, because, for example, as a general one is better used than as a private, and because while commanding he liked to go away. People had made his illness much worse, they laughed at him when he put on a new tie or new shoes, and gave him nicknames … and this was his form of revenge.2
There is no contradiction in the fact that Algar remembers these states of Fritz although at that time he was not “in Fritz.” Algar is no other than Fritz in the somnambulistic state. But somnambulism implies a hypermnesia relating to the subject’s whole life, so that Algar remembers facts in Fritz’ life which occurred at a time when Algar was not yet there, that is to say, before Fritz showed these somnambulistic troubles and modifications in the general psychic structure of the personality which are distinguished by the name of Algar. The very contradiction that Algar remembers states of Fritz dating from a period when he, Algar, was not there, shows with the utmost possible clarity that Algar is not a spirit which has introduced itself into Fritz from without but Fritz himself in th
e somnambulistic state. The fact that Lemaître did not refrain from reproducing all Algar’s declarations, however disconcerting and strange they might appear, gives to his publication a unique value as bearing upon the theory of the ego.
It is not fully clear how Fritz-Algar comes to predict so accurately that he will vanish at the time of Fritz’ cure and that the latter will not remember him. Is this due to hypermnesia of things perhaps heard by Fritz at some time and relating to the course and cure of his possession or else to autonomous conjectures founded on his own experiences and the knowledge acquired from them that Fritz in the waking state does not remember the somnambulistic periods?
Finally we will draw attention to another interesting analogous case. In early Christian literature there exists a passage where the possessing spirit also makes statements as to the state of mind of the possessed at the moment of possession. It does not much matter that in this case possession is not by a demon but by the Holy Spirit conceived entirely as a person. The quotation relates to Montan, the founder of “Montanism.” Several utterances of the Holy Spirit are enunciated by his mouth, in one of which the Holy Spirit describes as follows Montan’s state when inspired:
Behold, man is like a lyre—And I come flying unto him like a plectrum—The man sleeps—And I am waking—Behold it is the Lord—Who draws men’s hearts out of their breasts—And who gives to man a heart.1
This passage is remarkable because in the whole of literature I have not found another in which the second person of the possessed says something about the occasionally recurring condition of the first.
Even the somnambulists of Janet2 are silent on this point; true, however, they were not questioned about it.
By reason of this lack of documents it is difficult to say anything more on the psychic mechanism which Montan’s words really attest. It seems as if there had been as it were a residue of the first “person” in the total field of consciousness: this is what would be indicated by the word “sleeps.” It is with the new person in the man as if the first slept.
The passage also shows that man possesses in this second state as well as the first a sense of the ego, for otherwise the following utterance would have no meaning: “That God takes men’s hearts out of their bosoms and gives them a heart” (another heart evidently). This second heart is that of the Paraclete.
We must consider once more the other saying from the mouth of Montan: I, the Lord, God, the Almighty, descending into man, .1
It shows at least that, in this case also, the new person is so placed as to be only per nefas in the man in question.2
In striking agreement with what we have already said about the character of possession according as the possessed do or do not offer a strong resistance to the anti-religious compulsions, is what has been handed down concerning the frequency and distribution of the incidence of possession and obsession.
Before proceeding further, I must interpolate a remark on the terms possession and obsession. Under the name of obsessions modern French psychology includes in a general way all the states of compulsion.1 Under the name of possession are designated two particular groups of states, demoniacal somnambulism as well as the state of inner division in which the individual imagines he feels the demon as a second self within him.
It should be clearly stated that the theological psychology of the present time, like that of the Middle Ages, classes these phenomena of division as obsessions and only reckons as possession well-developed demoniacal somnambulism. This is the definition of Poulain, one of the most eminent specialists in the new theology:
We shall call a person possessed by the demon in the strict sense of the word when at certain moments the latter makes him lose consciousness and then seems to play in his body the part of the soul: he uses, at least to all appearance, his eyes to see with, his ears to listen with, his mouth to speak with, whether it be to those present or to his companions. It is he who suffers as if from a burn if his skin is touched with an object which has been blessed. In a word, he seems incarnated.
We shall call a person obsessed when the demon never makes him lose consciousness but nevertheless torments him in such a manner that his action is manifest: for example, by beating him.2
But it must be said that this terminology has not always been strictly observed. The more nearly the state of obsession approximates, at least apparently, to possession, the more readily is this designation applied. Thus the case of Surin has always from the beginning been called possession, whereas it should have been called obsession by reason of the retention of intelligence.
It is, moreover, extremely important to remember that although we call such a state of division obsession,1 it is far from true that all obsessions are consequently states of division.
Modern psychopathic literature on the subject contains descriptions of an extraordinary number of compulsive phenomena which have not, however, been felt as “possession” by the persons concerned. The richest collection of cases is found in the great work of Pierre Janet, a French psychologist—originally psychology master in a secondary school at le Hâvre, but now for years past director of the Psychological Institute of the Paris Psychiatric Clinic of the Salpêtrière—Les Obsessions et la Psychasthénie.2 It includes hundreds of the most diverse examples.
Hardly less rich are the materials, which Löwenfeld has accumulated in his book: Die psyschologischen Zwangserscheinungen.3
The forms of obsession are innumerable. Some patients are haunted by the idea that they have committed a crime or an offence of some sort against religion; others by the idea that they are suffering from an illness. Yet others are prone to ask themselves mentally all sorts of questions on any and every occasion. Some have a mania for counting their steps or the paving-stones in the streets. Others are haunted by the dread of being contaminated by the objects which they touch. Yet others cannot resist the impulse to wash their hands at every moment. There is no idea, no tendency, no torturing conception which may not be capable of assuming compulsive possession of the mind4 without the patient thereby losing consciousness of the morbid character of the process taking place within him.
I have had, writes H. Oppenheim, to treat several lawyers, jurists, and doctors who were worried to death by the obsessive idea of having made a mistake, of having forgotten something in their prescriptions. It is not rare in obsessions to have committed a morally reprehensible action. Thus an intelligent lawyer had had his windows furnished with shutters when the idea occurred to him that this was an act of cowardice. He was unceasingly tormented by this display of moral inferiority and consulted not only doctors but also philosophers, ecclesiastics, etc. When he came to ask my advice the trouble had lasted, with intermissions, for twenty-five years.1
Sometimes it is the idea of being destined to attempt the life of another, particularly amongst the patient’s near ones, which makes its way into the mind and becomes obsessive. One of my patients could not go into the street because he was distracted by the idea of wounding someone with his walking-stick or umbrella.2
Obsession is a peculiar torture when almost every idea takes the form of an interrogation, when on every sensory impression, every action, irresistably arouses the question: What does that mean? Why am I doing that? Why do I do such a thing and not such another? Why is this object in this place? etc. It may even be completely absurd conceptions bearing no relation to the normal mentality of the individual which assume obsessive domination. For example, one of my patients was obsessed by the idea that he carried the head of his dead father under his arm, that his skin was that of a mouse, etc. There are other cases in which the patient must exhaust himself in the search for certain names. Thus I treated a woman who strove to find a name for every object and who had no rest until she had written it down; she had sacks full of pieces of paper inscribed with names. With other women it is a sort of mania for orientation and analysis. They must keep an exact account of what they have thought during a certain time, of what they have done, of the
objects which they have seen in going through a room, of the order in which these were arranged when they passed them, etc.3
These compulsive ideas may also have a religious content, the most frequent taking the form of blasphemy.
To speak evil of divine things, to think of the devil while saying prayers and to insult God instead of praying to him … to be able to utter nothing but coarse and malevolent expressions of hatred against God, to rebel against him and curse him, to utter blasphemies as soon as the thought of religion occurs.… Swine of a God, etc., such are the words which a number of these patients repeat.4
Such states are not identical with possession. They may facilitate its appearance, but in themselves fall short of it.
It also behoves us to be circumspect about sources. Authors often say that the devil has entered into a soul even if according to our terminology there is nothing beyond the ordinary compulsive phenomena without the sentiment of a second personality being imposed. It is only when the person feels himself divided that we speak of true possession.
It is evident that such possession must arise much less often to-day than formerly when belief in the devil prevailed. All compulsions, even when very mild, were immediately personified, but this did not mean that every obsessive idea resulted in an immediate division of personality.
As regards the growth of compulsions in the psyche, certain prominent systematic theologians are of opinion that possession never attacks, except in very rare and transitory cases, persons who strive earnestly after moral and religious perfection.1
They really find this a matter of experience. Meynard also thinks “that it is excessively rare that possession should appear in souls called to the contemplation of God and to an intimate union with him; it is rather a punishment than a purifying trial.”2
This, however, can only be affirmed of the most extreme forms of possession, for authors worthy of credence report that almost all exorcising priests themselves fell victim to possession.
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