ered in his writings by the few who could read them. Moreover, he was in a great position, and the English mind is truly sensible of the right of such to think as they please. A Dean of family may be allowed a degree of latitude which in "the inferior clergy" must be punished by lawsuits and deprivation. For "that in the captain's but a choleric word, which in the soldier is flat blasphemy;" and an ambassador with a grand house, who gave delightful parties where Princes of the blood and Royal Highnesses of all nations, big and little, were to be met with familiarly, was visited and received cordially by men and women, who, meeting the same opinions without the protection of a star, would have pronounced their possessor not a Christian," and have declared with horror, "The book of Daniel a history, not a prophecy! Why, the man is an atheist." Bunsen was singularly tolerant, however, of the intolerant. His largehearted charity took in all sides of opinion and shades of doctrine, and under its shadow all parties agreed to meet in peace. The extremes of High and Low Church, large-minded religious men, rationalists, fine ladies, men of science, dissenters, brilliant men of letters, dingy professors, politicians, artists, philanthropists, dowdy old working-women, might all be seen collected in the great drawing-rooms of Carlton House Terrace. It was like the valley of Jehoshaphat-there the small and great met together,—the oppressor and the oppressed, the man who had been deprived of his salary or his living for holding to what he believed to be the truth, and the conscientious bigot who had tried to ruin him for righteousness' sake; and each found that the other was not as bad as he expected. The help of one such centre of communication to real liberality of intercourse was almost incalculable. There was something in the genial temper of the house, the simple, true-hearted belief in goodness, which went far to neutralize the acrimony which ignorance of each other often brings with it. London is splitting more and more into coteries; the distances are such that, for instance, the Regent's Park has little more to do with South Kensington than with Richmond.It is the place where the best of the nation, of every kind, are congregated for five months in every year, where more of real interest on every topic under the sun is to be heard than anywhere else under the sun, yet it is strange how separate the political, scientific, and artistic streams keep from one another; and the loss of a house where all might mingle and be at ease was indeed very great. Bunsen's large volumes on "God in History," which it was the real object of his life to discover, may be but little read by the world, but the more difficult problem which he and his wife solved, of showing how to live in the world socially and politically, which they enjoyed so wisely and so well, and yet not to be of the world, should continue to be studied in their Memoirs. The last place where the real account of Madame de Bunsen's share in the important social influence of the house can be discovered is in her own estimate of it; but on her depended the inner wheels within wheels, which rendered the harmonious working of the great machine practicable. To a sympathy for all forms of excellence, in whatsoever coats and gowns of thought they were clothed, which loving intercourse with her husband had rendered as wide as his own, she added a common sense greater than his, and a knowledge of life and character often invaluable to him. She was his true helpmate in all the passages of his life, the true partner of every thought and every feeling he possessed. In whatsoever things were true, whatsoever things were lovely, honest, and of good report, she was one with him, to a degree which has hardly ever been surpassed; and the intelligent and appreciative record she has left of their life, with such tender reverence for his memory and such complete forgetfulness of self, will prove the most fitting memorial of her also which could possibly have been devised.-Contemporary Review. THE LAWS OF DREAMS. THE phenomena of dreams may well seem at first sight to form a world of their own, having no discoverable links of connection with the other facts of human experience. First of all there is the mystery of sleep, which quietly shuts all the avenues of sense and so isolates the mind from contact with the world outside. To gaze at the motionless face of a sleeper temporarily rapt, so to speak, from the life of sight, sound, and movement, which, being common to all, binds us together in mutual recognition and social action, has always something aweinspiring. How unlike that external inaction, that torpor of sense and muscle, to the familiar waking life with its quick responsiveness and its overflowing energy! And then if we look at dreams from the inside, so to speak, we seem to find but the obverse face of the mystery. How inexpressibly strange does the late night-dream seem to one on waking. He feels he has been sojourning in an unfamiliar world, with an order of sights and a sequence of events quite unlike those of waking experience, and he asks himself in his perplexity where that oncevisited region really lies, or by what magic power it was suddenly created for his fleeting vision. In truth, the very name of dream suggests something remote and mysterious, and when we want to characterize some impression or scene which by its passing strangeness filled us with wonder, we naturally call it dreamlike. The earliest theories respecting dreams illustrate very clearly this perception of the remoteness of dream-life from waking experience. The view held in common by the ancient world, according to Artemidorus, was that dreams were dim previsions of coming events. This great authority on dream interpretation (oneirocritics) actually defines a dream as "a motion or fiction of the soul in a diverse form signifying either good, or evil to come;" and even a logician like Porphyry ascribed dreams to the influence of a good demon, who thereby warns us of the evils which another and bad demon is preparing for us. The same mode * A good deal of interesting information respecting dream theories may be found in of viewing dreams is quite common today, and many who pride themselves on a certain intellectual culture, and who imagine themselves to be free from the weakness of superstition, are apt to talk of dreams as of something uncanny, if not distinctly ominous. Nor is it surprising that phenomena which at first sight look so wild and unconditioned should still pass for miraculous interruptions of the natural order of events. Yet in spite of this obvious and impressive element of the mysterious in dream-life, the scientific impulse to illuminate the less known by the better known has long since begun to play on this obscure subject. Even in the ancient world a writer might here and there be found, like Democritus or Aristotle, who was bold enough to put forward a natural and physical explanation of dreams. But it has been the work of modern science to provide something like an approximate solution of the problem. The careful study of mental life in its intimate union with bodily operations, and the comparison of dream-combinations with other products of the imagination, normal as well as morbid, have gradually helped to dissolve a good part of the mystery which once hung like an opaque mist about the subject. In this way our dream operations have been found to have a much closer connection with our waking experiences than could be supposed on a superficial view. The quaint chaotic play of images in dreams has been shown to illustrate mental processes and laws which are distinctly observable in waking thought, more especially the apparent objective reality of these visions has been accounted for, without the need of any supernatural cause, in the light of a vast assemblage of facts gathered from the by-ways, so to speak, of waking mental life. We do not mean to say that dreams are even now fully explained. Were this so, the motive of the present essay would be wanting. Both the physiology and psychology of the subject are far from complete. This is seen in a striking manner in the present insolubility of Mr. Frank Seafield's work, The Literature and Curiosities of Dreams. the question-so frequently discussed since the time of Locke :-Whether dreams are co-extensive with sleep, or whether they are confined to the intermediate stages of imperfect slumber. While many physiologists incline to the latter view, some few-among whom we may name Sir Henry Holland-go with Leibnitz and the Cartesians in upholding the former supposition. The incompleteness of the physiological interpretation is seen, too, in the divided state of opinion respecting the precise physical conditions of sleep. The most that can be called commonly accepted truth is that sleep is produced by a temporary congestion of the blood-vessels of the brain. But the precise steps by which this result is brought about are still unknown. With respect to the physiological conditions of dreams, there seems to be still less certainty. It is assumed of course that every dream answers to some partial and locally circumscribed excitation of the brain substance, but what may be the precise mode of this "automatic" activity is altogether a matter of conjecture. All that can be obtained is some more or less ingenious hypotheses, as for example the one recently put forward by Wundt, that the cerebral excitations are caused by the retardation of the circulation within the blood-vessels of the brain and the presence in the blood thus arrested of numerous products of decomposition. Such being the uncertainty of the physiological theory of dreams, it seems better for one who is not a physiologist to approach the subject from the other and psychological side. And this line of inquiry is all the more inviting inasmuch as psychologists are by no means agreed respecting the precise mental structure of dreams. It is seen by all that the play of mental function in dreams differs considerably from the exercises of the waking mind; but there is great difference of opinion as to the precise nature and amount of this difference. For example it is maintained by some that reason and will are wholly excluded from dreams. name the late Dr. Symonds, hold that dreams differ from waking thought, not in the number of faculties employed, but in the less degree of completeness of the mental processes. There is thus an opening for a careful psychological reconsideration of the phenomenon, and this is what I propose to effect in the present essay. For our present purpose a dream may, perhaps, be defined as a group or series of groups of vivid imaginative representations of sensory, motor and emotional experiences, which simulates the form of real perceptions, and which, while appearing as a connected whole, presents its various elements in combinations very dissimilar to those of waking experience. There seem to be three main problems involved in this statement of the phenomenon. First of all, it may be asked, whence the mind of the sleeper draws the various elements of its dreams. Secondly, one may inquire into the causes of the exceptional order of sequence and the strange forms of composition, in which the images of the sleeper are wont to present themselves. Lastly, the question may be raised, why these products of imagination should be taken by the dreamer for objective realities. Since the last problem is the one which is best understood, and has been most adequately explained, it may be well to dismiss it at once by a few remarks, after which we shall be free to concentrate our attention on the other and more intricate questions. Modern psychology has taught us to regard the difference between a sensation and an idea, a perception and an imagination, as one of degree and not of kind. Our mental image of the setting sun, for example, is said to be simply a faint copy of the impressions produced by the real object in visual perception. Hence, though there is in the normal mind a clear and broad distinction between the two classes of mental phenomena, there is a considerable margin within which the two tend to become confused and scarcely distinguishable. One part of this region of incomplete scparation lies in normal perception itself, for this operation always involves an element of representation or idea, though it seems to be altogether real and immediOthers, again, among whom we may ate. Thus when I appear to myself to NEW SERIES.-VOL. XXV., No. 1 Dreams are the interludes which Fancy makes, When monarch Reason sleeps this mimic wakes. 3 see the downy softness of a rose's petal, I am in truth only vividly imagining it by help of previous sensations of touch. The great field, however, for this confusion of idea and sensation is to be found in all excited states of the imagination, including pathological conditions. Under these circumstances, pure fancies of the mind, by acquiring a certain degree of vividness and persistence, become mistaken for real perceptions. Many excitable persons cannot read a ghost-story at a late hour of the evening without danger of a momentary illusion that they see or hear something uncanny and supernatural. In mental disorders the mistaking of some imagination for a real fact is one of the commonest symptoms. Whether the evil be a passing state of nervous irritability due to fatigue and exhaustion, or a permanent condition of mania, there is the same tendency to mistake a mental fiction for a fact, an imaginative representation for an immediate presentation. It is this last kind of effect which has the closest connection with dreams, and it will be well to try to elucidate it yet a little further. In the normal mind our most vivid imaginations are prevented from imposing on us by what M. Taine calls the corrective of a present sensation.* When, for example, the weary prisoner indulges in a pleasing fancy picture of his home and family, the perception of the narrow boundaries of his cell at once corrects the tendency to illusion. So long as real sensations are present to the mind, and there is any distinguishable difference between the sensations and the images, so long is it difficult to lapse into this state of illusion. This result may occur either when the imagination has reached such an intensity as to be no longer distinguishable from the sensation of the moment, as in the illusions and hallucinations of the insane, or when, on the other hand, actual sensations are removed, so that the various fancies which run to the mind lack their *M. Taine supposes that every image tends to pass into the semblance of an external perception, though in normal waking states this tendency is opposed and overcome by the stronger contradictory tendency of the sensa tion of the moment.-On Intelligence, Part I. p. 52. proper corrective. In other words, ideas are recognised as such through a certain. ratio of intensity to actual sensations; they fail to be recognised when this ratio is obliterated either by the elevation of the idea in intensity, or by the obscuration of the sensation. It seems probable that the apparent reality of dream-fancy is a result of both these circumstances. One thing is certain, that when sleeping we are deprived to a large extent of external sensations, so that the mind loses its normal standard of comparison. On the other hand, it is exceedingly likely, if not certain, that the imaginations of our dreaming states have an absolute as well as a relative increase of intensity. It seems to be a plausible supposition that the cerebral elements excited in dream activity have an extraordinary degree of irritability, [so [that the stimulation of them, however it be effected, has as its consequence a peculiar intensity of the corresponding ideas. These considerations appear fully to account for the seeming reality of our dreaming fancies. We may now pass to the more intricate question respecting the sources and originating impulses of our dream-fancies. David Hartley says the elements of dreams are derived from the three following sources: (a) impressions and ideas lately received; (b) states of the body, especially of the stomach during sleep; and (c) ideas restored by association. This serves very well as a rough classification of the exciting causes of dream images, though recent psychology assisted by physiological experiment may enable one to supply a more elaborate scheme. The exciting causes of dream imagery may be broadly divided into two large classes, peripheral and central stimulations. By the former are meant those excitations which have their seat in the outlying parts of the nervous system, namely, the organs of sense, the muscular apparatus, and the vital organs, together with the external portions of the nerves connected with these. Central stimulations are such as do not depend in any way on these peripheral actions, but arise within the encephalic region itself. They are of two kinds, direct and indirect stimulations. The former de pend entirely on the condition of the nerve elements (cells and connecting fibres) acted upon, and on the unknown influences (say those of the contents of the blood-vessels) exerted on them at the moment. The indirect stimulations arise as an extension of some previous excitation in the same or in some connected cerebral region. The former underlie many of the apparently spontaneous revivals of images of dreaming, and those fancies which depend on a recent impression or idea. The latter are the substratum of all ideas which rise in dream-consciousness through some link of association with a previous mental element, whether idea or sensation. Let us now review each of these classes in greater detail, and illustrate them by examples. are First of all, then, we have to examine how the several kinds of peripheral excitation brought about in the state of sleep serve as the prompters of dream image. And here the question which first suggests itself is whether actual sensations produced by external stimuli on the organs of sense play any part in this production. It is commonly supposed that the channels of our senses wholly stopped during sleep, but this idea is incorrect. All of us probably can recall dreams in which a noise, a light, or an odor was an exciting cause. The bark of a dog, or the ticking of one's watch, frequently prompts the precise direction of dream fancy. Dr. Beattie speaks of a man who could be made to dream about any subject by gently talking of it in his ear when sleeping. For our knowledge of the extent to which sensation may feed, so to speak, dream-fancy, we are greatly indebted to the researches of M. Alf. Maury, described in his elaborate and highly interesting volume entitled Le Sommeil et les Rêves. M. Maury made experiments on this subject by engaging a coadjutor to employ appropriate sensory stimuli on his organs of hearing and touch while he was asleep, immediately after which he was to be roused, so as to record the dream of the time. The reThe results were very curious. When his lips were tickled, he dreamt that a pitchplaster was being torn from his face and lips; when a pair of tweezers was made to vibrate near his ear, he dreamt of bells, the tocsin, and of the events of June, 1848. The connection between the dream-fancy and the external sensation in these cases is sufficiently plain. It is probable that the sensations of touch and pressure due to the contact of the various bodily parts with their surroundings, and with one another, during sleep, are potent influences in the origination of dreams. Along with objective sensations due. to the action of external stimuli on the sensory organs, we must reckon subjective sensations which arise from internal stimulation within the organ itself. It is known that when all external light is withdrawn from the eye, the optic nerve remains in a state of partial excitation. Hence the phantasies which often float before the eye in the dark, and which Goethe and Johannes Müller were able to observe at will with great distinctness. These subjective images commonly arise, according to Helmholtz, from varying pressure on the nerve exerted by the biood in the retinal vessels, or from a chemical action of the blood owing to its altered composition. Similarly it has been maintained that the extremities of the nerves of hearing, smell, and taste, may be acted on in the absence of properly external causes. Thus the flow of blood in the vessels of the ear is heard as a dull roar, and the changing condition of the saliva on the surface of the tongue and palate may give rise to distinct sensations of taste. Once more, variations in the state of the circulation and functional activity of the skin are accompanied with a number of sensations as of objects touching, tickling, or creeping over its surface. All these subjective sensations probably furnish a considerable part of the raw material of dreams. Though little remarked during waking hours, when the mind is controlled by the more powerful excitations occasioned by external objects and their movements, these vague feelings may be impressive elements in the circumscribed consciousness of the sleeper. More particularly the predominance of visual imagery in dream-fancy, which is expressed in one of the commonest names for a dream, namely, "vision," points to the conclusion that the subjective stimulations of the optic nerve-which may be intensified during sleep by the condition |