The Doris Fischer Case of Multiple Personality

ONE .........................................................................................................
2
A. Explanatory. ................................................................................................ 5 B. Cursory Description of the Five Personalities............................................. 8 1. Margaret. ..................................................................................................... 8 2. Sick Doris. ................................................................................................. 10 3. Sleeping Margaret...................................................................................... 12
TWO....................................................................................................... 15
4. Sleeping Real Doris. .................................................................................. 15 5. Intercognition and its Mechanism. ............................................................ 16 Real Doris. ..................................................................................................... 16 Sick Doris. ..................................................................................................... 17 Margaret. ....................................................................................................... 18 Sleeping Real Doris. ...................................................................................... 18 Sleeping Margaret. ........................................................................................ 19 6. Conclusion. ................................................................................................ 19 7. Supernormal Incidents or Illusions. ........................................................... 22 8. Classification of Readers. .......................................................................... 25 II. Summary of the Facts. .............................................................................. 25 1. The First Dissociating Shock, and the Rise of Two Secondary Personalities. ................................................................................................................. 26
7. Sick Doris an Infant Personality. ............................................................ 32 8. The Education and Development of Sick Doris......................................... 33 9. The Four Personalities. .............................................................................. 33 10. The Third Dissociating Shock and the Advent of Sleeping Real Doris. .. 35 11. Events Leading to the Coming of the Case Under Observation............... 35 12. The First Foundations of Cure. ................................................................ 35 13. Discovery of Margaret. ............................................................................ 36 14. Hypnotizedand Sleeping Margaret Speaks. ......................................... 37 15. Sick Doris Cut Loose from Various Entanglements. ............................... 38 16. Amidst Hindrances, Improvements Begin. .............................................. 38 17. Revelation of Real Doris.......................................................................... 39 18. Revolution in Environment, and Resulting Rapid Improvement. ............ 39
33. Margarets Purposed Dealings with Real Doris. ......................................52 34. Real Doris and her Progress. ....................................................................52 35. Comparisons and Tests in Hearing and Vision. .......................................53
FIVE....................................................................................................... 54
36. Sleeping Margaret Yanks in Margaret. .................................................54 37. Sleeping Real Doris. ................................................................................54 38. Margaret Growing Mentally Younger, and other Losses. ........................55 39. Sleeping Real Doriss Decline and Disappearance. .................................56 40. Sleeping Margarets Increasing Latitude. ................................................57 41. Real Doris in the Meantime. ....................................................................57 42. Margaret becomes Mentally less than Six Years old, and Reaches Blindness. .................................................................................................58 43. The Changes in Margarets Process of Seeing Real Doriss Thoughts. ...62 44. A Serious Set-back. ..............................................................................63 45. Sleeping Margaret During this Period......................................................63 46. Real Doriss Individual Progress. ............................................................64 47. From Margarets Blindness to her Death. ................................................65
FOUR..................................................................................................... 42
19. The Declining Sick Doris. ....................................................................... 42 20. Margaret also Declining but more Slowly. .............................................. 42 21. Alternations.............................................................................................. 42 22. Appearance of S. D. b. and M.-asleep x., and Self-Revelation of Sleeping Margaret. .................................................................................................. 43 23. The Battle with Sick Doris, and Her Retreat............................................ 44 24. Infant Sick Doris. ..................................................................................... 45 25. The Troubles of Margaret. ....................................................................... 46 26. Real Doris, and the Alternations. ............................................................. 46 27. Sleeping Margaret. ................................................................................... 47 28. The Vicissitudes of Margaret. .................................................................. 48 29. Physical States with Psychical Relations. ................................................ 49 30. Trip to the East, and the End of Sick Doris. ............................................ 49 31. Further Progress during the Visit. ............................................................ 50 32. Margarets Rapid Retreat. ........................................................................ 50
SIX ......................................................................................................... 67
48. Sleeping Margaret. ...................................................................................67 49. Real Doris. ...............................................................................................68 50. Real Doris with Unbroken Consciousnessyet with Sleeping Margaret Still in Evidence. ......................................................................................69
THREE ................................................................................................... 28
2. Potent Factors in Environment. ................................................................. 28 3. The Doings of Margaret. ........................................................................... 28 4. The Doings of Sleeping Margaret.............................................................. 30 5. Valuable Assets in the Make-up of Doris, ................................................. 31 6. Second Dissociating Shock and Addition of Sick Doris to the Group of Personalities. ............................................................................................ 31
CONCLUSION. ..................................................................................... 70
ONE By James H. Hyslop and Dr. Walter F. Prince.* Some years ago my attention was called to the present case by the clergyman who had it in charge and who had adopted the child to save her from her brutal father. Dr. Walter F. Prince, the clergyman mentioned, referred in his letter to me to drawings which the girl was making and as I was in the midst of the Thompson-Gifford phenomena (Proceedings Am. S. P. R., Vol. III.), the possibility of obsession suggested itself to my mind at once, not as a probability, but as a possibility to be investigated. This whole problem was forced on my mind by the phenomena of Mr. Thompson and the outcome of the investigation into them. I had found that secondary personality was not a final account of certain superficial phenomena and as the report on the present case resembled that one in some respects it was but natural to raise the same question. The result was that I took the first opportunity to visit Dr. Prince and to see the case. He had stoutly questioned the possibility that I had suggested and my examination confirmed me in the hypothesis that there was no superficial evidence at least of spiritThis case is published in full in the Proceedings. The present articles are composed of my own remarks on it summarized and the abridged account of it by Dr. Prince. The abbreviations for the various personalities should be given here for the reader. M. stands for Margaret, S. M. for Sleeping Margaret, D. for Doris, the name of the girl, R. D. for Real Doris, the normal personality, S. R. D. for Sleeping Real Doris and S. D. for Sick Doris. For more definite conceptions of these terms and personalities readers will have to go to the Glossary in the Proceedings, Vol. IX.
*
istic influences in the case analogous with the Thompson-Gifford phenomena. There were two personalities manifested when I saw the case, those known in the record as Margaret and Sleeping Margaret. I also saw Margaret asleep, which is different from Sleeping Margaret, though I did not know it or was not told the fact at the time. But in none of them could I obtain any reason to believe that obsession was the correct diagnosis. The present case of multiple personality is of unusual interest. The one nearest like it is that of Dr. Morton Prince, the celebrated Miss Beauchamp Case, in which Sally was a mischievous character. It is the mischief-making character of one of the personalities in the case of Doris Fischer that helps to give it interest and importance, though that interest may be no more scientific than in regard to the other more common-place personalities. The public, however, always attaches an interest to personalities that go counter to the instinct of self-preservation or threaten the subject with various forms of discomfort and injury. The explanation of such personalities is no easier or more difficult than that of the others, but simply because the human element of mischief enters into them they invoke attention more distinctly. They may prompt to investigations that offer an explanation throughout the entire field, but there is no more reason for making a fuss about them scientifically than about the more prosaic cases. In the present account of the case we are interested now only in the facts which were important in the cause of the malady and in the per-
JOURNAL OF THE AMERICAN SOCIETY FOR PSYCHICAL RESEARCH

Volume XNo. 7 July, 1916
sonalities which illustrate its development. When the child, Doris Fischer, was three years of age her drunken father picked her up and threw her down on the floor so violently that she suffered from some mental shock and was never a well person after that until Dr. Prince cured her or, as some might suppose, nature had cured the injury. Very soon afterward there began to appear evidences of dissociation and double personality, though these did not come under the direct observation of Dr. Prince until many years afterward when he was persuaded to examine her phenomena and finally to adopt her in the family for the purpose of saving her from the brutalities of her father, after the death of the mother. It was during this intervening period, between the action of her father and the death of her mother, that the main secondary personality developed, but its history did not come directly under the observation of Dr. Prince. He had to learn the facts by careful and critical inquiry of the personalities themselves. This history is presented in Chapter III. The chief and only known secondary personality during this period, so far as can be ascertained was called Margaret. This personality gave many names and chiefly Bridget until late in the case. The mother and Doris herself were both exceedingly fond of the name Margaret, but the name was proposed by Dr. Prince, as Doris disliked Bridget which the personality called herself. It is important to keep this fact in view because of the final explanation of the phenomena. This Margaret was the result of the first dissociating shock to the girl, the injury caused by the father. She was a mischievous impish character and involved the
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girl in all sorts of escapades very like those of Sally in Dr. Morton Princes case. She cherished a special dislike or hatred toward one of the other personalities known as Sick Doris. The normal Doris had no memories of hers. The Margaret phase would suddenly come on in various emergencies and the child would be off in a new and capricious life, wholly unadjusted to the rational needs of the normal personality. Doris in her normal state never knew what the Margaret personality did, though the mother, her sisters or her playmates would tell the normal self what had been done and she finally came to learn or to infer that she had done certain things unconsciously, but of course had no understanding of what it meant. The death of the mother when the child was seventeen years of age was the cause of another shock which brought a personality which Margaret named Sick Doris. The child had depended on the mother for a shield against the cruelties of the father, and at the mothers death, besides the loss of the special affection and care of the mother she had to face the mortal fear of her father. The effect was the production of a personality which, at first, had not the most elementary knowledge of anything, either of surrounding objects or of what was necessary to sustain life. The situation was almost precisely like that of the Rev. Thomas C. Hanna, reported by Dr. Boris Sidis, who lost all his knowledge and became an infant in this respect from the accident of being thrown from a buggy. (Cf. Sidis and Goodhart: Multiple Personality.) In the present case, Margaret had to teach Sick Doris how to care for herself and in the course of this education imbibed a bitter

hatred against her, doing all that she could to make life uncomfortable for her and the normal Doris had to pay the penalty quite as much as Sick Doris. The next personality is that of Sleeping Margaret, whose title Dr. Prince regards as a misnomer, since it implies that she was Margaret asleep. She was not this, but was an independent personality. Her history is not known beyond her own statements about herself; namely, that she came a few moments earlier than Margaret who came at the time of the fathers shocking act in throwing the child on the floor when he was in a drunken fit. Her chief distinguishing characteristic, in so far as external appearance is concerned, is the fact that she appears only when Doris is asleep. At any time when the girl was asleep you could find Sleeping Margaret on tap and could carry on conversation with her, the normal Doris never knowing anything about her existence until after we had brought the girl on to the East in 1914 for experiment. Sleeping Margaret had written a note to Dr. Prince while Doris was asleep and the latter found it the next morning, and inferred that she was not cured. She had supposed that all the personalities had disappeared. But until this time Real Doris, the normal self, knew absolutely nothing about the existence of Sleeping Margaret. But the latter knew all about Real Doris. Sleeping Margaret claimed to be one of the guards of the child and in this represented the same function which is known in Spiritualistic circles and beliefs as that of guides. It was her business to
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watch over the girl and to prevent any harm coming to her. In the course of the girls cure she was helpful in supplying Dr. Prince with knowledge about the other personalities and advice as to how he should proceed. At first she disclaimed being a spirit, but later she resolutely insisted that she was a spirit. These with Real DorisDoris and Real Doris are not the samemake four personalities, Doris being the girls name. But there was still another secondary personality, that of Sleeping Real Doris. She seems to have been the result of a fall by Doris at eighteen years of age in which she received an injury to her head and back. She seems to have made her appearance infrequently and only after Doris had gone to sleep. The normal self or Real Doris was not conscious of her existence, though this would be true if we simply treated Sleeping Real Doris as the somnambulic state of the normal self.*
The terms supraliminal and subliminal are always definitely used in this Report by Dr. Prince in relative senses. In the usual parlance of psychic research supraliminal has meant the normal consciousness and so the real personality of interest in normal life. In this view the subliminal is the mental activity lying below the threshold and not perceived or known by the normal or supraliminal consciousness. But Dr. Prince uses the term supraliminal to denote the mental states that are out or manifest to him at any given time. That is, it denotes the personality manifest while other personalities are not manifest Hence subliminal means with him the suppressed personalities and activities not evident when any one personality is manifesting. Thus it denotes the mental action that is under as opposed to out. In the change of personality what is subliminal at one lime becomes supraliminal at another, and the personality that is now supraliminal may become the subliminal one, when the other personality comes to the front.

There now follows the account of Dr. Prince. There are two main divisions of it. The first is Explanatory of its general character and the second is a summary of the facts which are recorded in the Proceedings. It is given here for readers of the Journal who do not see the larger Report. Besides it may serve for those who have no time to consider the more detailed account. A. Explanatory. The case of Doris Fischer is probably the only one on record in which a secondary personality, not only existing as a subliminal co-consciousness during the periods when the primary personality was conscious and in control, but also alternating as the consciousness in control during the periods when the primary personality was submerged and unconscious, appeared as early as the third year of the subjects life. It is certainly the only one permitted by circumstances to be under scientific observation daily and almost hourly from a period when psychical disintegration was at its most extreme stage up to and well past the date when continuity and integrity of consciousness were restored to the primary personality, a duration in this case of three and a half years. Unremitting scrutiny was made practicable by the adoption of the subject into the investigators family. Thus was it possible, also, to guard her from most of the shocks and strains to which she would otherwise have been subjected, to make constant the application of an
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experimentally developed system of therapeutics, and to reach so astonishingly swift a cure. It is, indeed, not so much of a marvel that she was restored to psychical integrity in but three and a half years as that this result was attained at all. For when the case was taken in hand two of the personalities (one anomalous, to be sure, in that she did not seem to subtract anything from the mentality or sensory powers of the primary personality) had been in existence for nineteen years, a third had been dominant for five years, a fourth had led her shadowy existence for four years, and the original or primary personality had not in five years summed up as much as three days of conscious living. Besides all this, at the time of the discovery of the central fact of dissociation a complication of grave and distressing symptoms were in full play. The alternations from one personality to another were sometimes as many as forty in one day. One of the characters in the dramaone might term it tragedy(Margaret) was at war with another (Sick Doris), attempting to afflict her by bodily tortures, destroying her possessions, undoing her tasks and irritating her with impish derision, though there were brief truces when pity replaced malice. Normal sleep was almost unknown, and night was a phantasmagoria of strange experiences. There were protracted periods of labor in an abnormal condition wherein productivity was more than doubled and brief spaces of catalepsy furnished the only rest. An unusual natural endowment of vitality was almost exhausted, and death was evidently approaching. No wonder that the primary personality (Real Doris), only dimly aware of the sorrows of a life almost wholly shut

out from her direct view yet fearing that her own conscious emergences would wholly, as they had already nearly, come to an end, fell upon her knees in thankfulness when she read a note from two of the personalities (Sick Doris and Margaret) informing her that she was to die. And when, even after the encouragement of the next following months, Prof. Walker declared that it was unlikely that an almost lifelong condition of such gravity could ever be completely rectified and the patient be restored to entire continuity of consciousness, he said that which was obviously true in the light of psychological science.
As an easy introduction to the Doris Case I will ask the reader to put himself in my place in the late fall of 1910, when I still supposed that it was one of hysteria only. You are talking with a somewhat stolid looking young woman, with apprehensive manner and nervous laugh (Sick Doris), when suddenly you note what seems to be an odd change of mood (Sick Doris sinks into the depths, and Margaret comes out). Though not startling in its abruptness and antithesis (the personalities are on their guard, more or less, to preserve their secret), yet she now has an air of restrained mischievousness, her demeanor is in some indefinable way more childish, her laugh is freer and her remarks often naive. Presently the stolid look comes back but with a difference, there is a tendency to chuckle, the signs of nervousness are increased, and in the eyes is a peculiar fixity of regard (S. D. has returned, but M is now
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more intently watching underneath, and is amused, disturbing the consciousness of S. D.).* Later you begin to talk about books or pictures, and suddenly note that the girl is no longer stolid or childishly gay but is following what is said with lips parted in a happy smile and face fairly luminous with interest (Real Doris has taken Sick Doriss place), and you congratulate yourself upon the choice of a subject which has evoked such intelligent appreciation. At another time the transition from reserve and stolidity to the rollicking and humorous mood is more pronounced (M. is somewhat off her guard, and is acting more according to her real nature). Gradually you begin to note oddities and contradictions. You expect her to partake of a dish for which she expressed and evidenced fondness yesterday, and she cannot be induced to touch it, but declares that it is not agreeable to her. At the very next meal she devours a quantity of it (S. D. did not know that M. had said she liked the article of food and had eaten it, and M., while aware of S. D.s refusal and remark, was herself too fond of her favorite dishes to decline them on account of the risk of discovery). Often she repeats a story within a few hours of the first relation, and seems confused when reminded of the fact that she told it before, saying, O, I forgot that I told you thatI thought it was someone
* The following initials will be used throughout the Report for the various personalitieS. R. D. stands for Real Doris, the primary personality; S. D. for the secondary personality Sick Doris, M. for Margaret, S. M. for Sleeping Margaret, and S. R. D. for Sleeping Real Doris. When the girl is referred to without distinction of personalities, as the individual in which all these inhere, she is called simply Doris or D. The Glossary in the Proceedings, Vol. IX, will give a fuller explanation.

else. Not infrequently she contradicts a statement lately made by her, or expresses an opinion at variance with one previously uttered. Sometimes at a change of mood there seems to be a hitch in her part of the conversation, she seems for a few moments to be talking somewhat at random. You have not noticed that the moods succeed each other in a certain order when followed by this momentary conversational obscuration. On the whole, she impresses you as being a very mercurial young lady of unsettled mental habits and not uniformly veracious character. Similar impressions prevail among her acquaintances and even her relatives. Intuitively, as seems to be the rule in these cases, she has felt that she is different from other people, and the group of her personalities has guarded the secret, all except the primary one more or less masking their peculiarities, in proportion as the demeanor of persons with whom she is in company gives token that caution is necessary. Paradoxically, she is in least danger of discovery by those who have known her all her life. They are wholly ignorant of the literature of abnormal psychology, and have been so familiar with her oddities that nothing about her can now surprise them. It is the new acquaintance, known to be well-read and noted to be observant, of whom the group of personalities stands in awe, and with whom they take the most pains, not uniformly maintained nor always successful, to dissemble their individual differences.
When Margaret followed Sick Doris or Real Doris, she came with the knowledge of all the sensory impressions and thoughts of the previous state. The same was true when Sick Doris supplanted Real Doris. But it was otherwise when the alternations occurred in the reverse order. If Real Doris came directly after a Sick Doris or Margaret period, or if Sick Doris followed Margaret, the present personality was utterly ignorant of what had previously taken place. Whatever had been done, said, heard or thought by her predecessor was to her absolutely unknown, except as she could make shrewd inferences from her situation at the moment she came out Of course, when the transition was in the order that did not break the mnemonic chain, a conversation, for example, could be carried on across the barrier with perfect ease. But what was the personality to do that came on deck by a sequence that involved amnesia, and found herself engaged in a conversation of whose nature she had no idea whatever? She would do what is always done in cases of this kind, fish, pretend that she did not hear the last remark of her fellow-interlocutor, appear to have her attention attracted by an object of enough interest to cause her to begin to talk about that, and by various other devices to mark time until with shrewdness developed by practice she was able to get her bearings. Two of the personalities, the miscalled Sleeping Margaret and Sleeping Real Doris, have not been mentioned hitherto, because they did not figure in the psychical manifestations witnessed and misapprehended by the girls circle of acquaintances. Previously to my discovery of her as the most singular phenomenon in the case, Sleeping
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Margaret (who must not be confounded with Margaret asleep) had spoken to a human being but twice, and then with such discomfiting results, in each case frightening the auditor out of her wits and causing her precipitate flight, that she had not been encouraged to repeat the experiment. And Sleeping Real Doris (who was by no means equivalent to Real Doris sleeping) was a purely somnambulic personality (corresponding somewhat to the personalities developed in hypnosis by Dr. Morton Prince in the Beauchamp case), and if any of her marvelous conversation-recitals were ever attended to by members of the family they doubtless thought that Doris was simply talking, in some weird fashion, in her sleep, and the incident was added to the list of her incomprehensible oddities. B. Cursory Description of the Five Personalities. And now it may be well for the reader to have an outline portrait of each of the personalities, ere he enters upon the Record, which will gradually develop them in wealth of detail. Of the Real Doris, indeed, the original and primary personality, from which the others, theoretically, were derived by processes of mental fissure consequent upon catastrophic psychoneurotic shocks, I need here say nothing except indirectly by way of contrasting the others with her, as her portraiture is given in the opening pages of the main narrative. But it will be of advantage to enter upon the reading of that with a fairly clear initial
conception of the characteristics and peculiarities of the respective secondary members of the group. The ansthesias will later be described in a separate paragraph. It will be understood that the description presents them as they appeared after they were brought to light, confidence had been established and all masks withdrawn, since each felt free to act according to the real promptings of her nature; but also before therapeutic measures had altered and reduced them. 1. Margaret. Margaret, who resulted from the first dissociating shock experienced by Doris, which there are consentient reasons to believe took place when she was about three years old, had been in existence for nineteen years, both as an alternating and as a subliminal personality, when the scientific study of the case began. She was mentally and emotionally a child of not more than ten years, with some extraordinarily naive notions not usually carried beyond the age of five or six. Her facial expression was strikingly child-like, her voice in speech or laughter that of a young tomboy, her point of view, mental habits and tastes in every way juvenile. When alone with friends who knew her secret so that she acted as she felt, her speech and whole demeanor were such that one almost forgot that the bodily size did not comport with all else which so consistently constituted the make-up of a child.
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She was mischievous, roguish, witty, a consummate mimic, ingratiating, winsome and altogether lovable, as a rule. She delighted to sit cross-legged on the floor and show her dolls and the trumpery contents of her drawer to grave doctors and other professionals who had been initiated, and by her delightful drollery would send them into gales of irresistible laughter. She alone of the group was slangy, and mispronounced or misspelled many a word which offered no difficulties to R. D., S. M. or even S. D. Although she had direct access to all the thoughts of the primary personality, many of these thoughts were as incomprehensible to her as is the political and scientific conversation which a normal child may daily hear but let pass idly by. She devoutly believed in fairies, and was amazed that I had not learned that doctors find babies on river-banks and take them to expectant mothers in their satchels. She fibbed and romanced for the fun of it, but could not avoid a betraying twinkle of the eye while doing so. Though amiable as a rule, she had occasional fits of sullenness and even of rage, which when once begun seemed to run an automatic course, sometimes ending in strange states in which she lost recognition of her friends and was in deadly fear of them. These became fewer in the course of therapeutic progress, and finally passed away. All three, R. D., S. D., and M., were suggestible, but M. the most of all; besides which, she was subject to a variety of motor and verbal automatisms, which once started carried her along helplessly until her attention was powerfully diverted or the automatisms had spent their force.
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It was a mystery to her why R. D. and S. D. cared for church or Bible-study. It was not that she was opposed to religion, she simply could not comprehend itit was all dumm stuff to her. She was demonstrative and affectionate, the antithesis of S. D. in this respect. When one reads of her efforts to torture and harass S. D., he will be inclined to think that she was a fiend incarnate, but it must be remembered that these were essentially automatic reactions, and ceased with the cessation of overwork. There was nothing really bad about Margaret, her very conceptions of badness were those of a small child. Turning to physical characteristics we note that she amply made up for S. D.s deficient appetite. She was childishly fond of eating, and some of her gastronomic feats were noteworthy. Her senses of taste and smell seemed to be up to normal, and she had little if any tactile ansthesia though subnormal as to the deeper sensations of cuts and bruises, but conversely to S. D. she felt internal pains and aches but slightly if at all. She possessed a form of visual hyperesthesia* which enabled her to make her way with ease
Hyperesthesia (or hypersthesia) is a condition that involves an abnormal increase in sensitivity to stimuli of the sense. When a non-noxious stimulus causes the sensation of pain the area will be termed hypersthetic. Stimuli of the senses can include sound that one hears, foods that one tastes, textures that one feels, and so forth. Increased touch sensitivity is referred to as tactile hyperesthesia, and increased sound sensitivity is called auditory hyperesthesia. Tactile hyperesthesia may be a common symptom of many neurologic disorders such as herpes zoster, peripheral neuropathy and radiculopathies. In 1979, and then in 1994, Merskey, Bogduk, Noordenbos, Devor and others (a subcommittee of International Association for the Study of Pain) proposed, instead of hypersthesia the concept of allodynia, meaning other pain, is a pain due to a stimulus which does not normally provoke pain.

about an almost completely strange room so dark that I could not have moved three steps without getting into difficulties. Her auditory hypersthesia was still more extraordinary, as many incidents will show. She could hear at thirty-one feet the ticking of a watch which was audible to the ordinary person less than five feet away. One is almost tempted to say that she could hear the grass grow. Her declension, much slower than that of S. D., brought no impairment of this faculty, but it did dull taste and smell, produce almost absolute tactile and muscular ansthesia, in turn narrow and shorten her field of vision, and at length reduce her to blindness. Her mentality also diminished, she seemed to retrace the path of her past development, actually picking up pronunciations and mannerisms of earlier childhood as she went, until she reached the intellectual age of about five, in which stage, without particular warning, she disappeared. 2. Sick Doris. Sick Doris was the product of the second dissociating shock, experienced by Real Doris at the age of seventeen and resulting from the sudden death of her idolized mother. Sick Doris, coming with no memory of events or even language, no recognition of persons or knowledge of the use of objectsin fact with mind as void of factual and verbal content as that of a newborn infant,but developing in mental acquirement under the tuition of Margaret with amazing rapidity, had been in existence for nearly five years at the time when the
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real study of the case began. She was characterized by woodenness of expression, her face, probably from relaxation of the muscles, was broader and more flabby than that of M. in particular, her eye was dull, lacking in the glee and mischief of M.s and the wide-open intelligence of R. D.s. Her glances were apt to be somewhat furtive, while both R. D. and M. always looked you directly in the face. Her voice had a quality hard to define, lacking the soft, womanly modulations of R. D.s voice, and the infinite variety of tone-color in that of M.; it was somewhat monotonous and metallic. In manner she was reserved, half independenthalf deprecatory, and nervous. Having no capacity for affection, she was nevertheless capable of a dog-like friendship, which never manifested itself by caresses, but only by a disposition to seek the society of its object, to perform tasks for her and to make her presents. Thus, for many months during which both she and M. were endeavoring to avoid meeting me for fear that I would discover their secret, and were even resolving to stay away altogether, she was yet brought back to sit and talk with Mrs. Prince, as by a hypnotic spell. She was a slave to her narrow conceptions of duty. Her chief joy was to make and present gifts to her friends, and she did this to an extent which exasperated M., and which the calm judgment of R. D. would not have approved. She was religiously inclined without R. D.s well-defined reasons for being so, while M. was frankly pagan. Her sense of humor was not keen. A joke about a man who had a wooden leg which sprouted under the stimulus of a powerful linament would only puzzle hershe would wonder how it could be. Nor would M. see

the humor of it, since to her childish fancy almost anything was possible. R. D. and S. M., on the other hand, would compass the grotesqueness of the conceit in a moment and laugh heartily. S. D. thought in terms of the literal and the concrete, and was usually at a loss when she encountered abstract and figurative expressions in her reading. While she never learned certain elementary manual operations which were easy even to M., such as the proper way to set the hands of a clock, in other directions her manual skill was the greatest found in the circle of the group. Embroidery, for instance, M. could do in rather clumsy fashion, while R. D. had some degree of skill, but S. D.s work was exquisite. Not only did she embroider with artistic dexterity, but this and some other species of work she was capable of performing at phenomenal speed with no impairment of quality; though it must be added that in such cases she enlisted, by some obscure process of compulsion, the co-operation of M., and consequently brought upon herself revengeful reprisals. Suggestible to a degree, she was also subject to that narrowing of the field of attention which results in so-called fixed ideas. Hence came the examples of hysterical or automatic fabrication found in the case, all of which centered in the Sick Doris complex, R. D. being totally ignorant of them, and M. and S. M. fully aware that they had no adequate foundations of fact. If affronted, she made no protest or defense, but bore all silently until she could weep in solitude. Sick Doris received her name from M. and S. M. because of the general state of her health. I do not think she could be termed neurasthenic in the strict sense of the term. She appeared ha- 11 -
bitually worn and weary, but that was because the accumulated results of spasmodic and prolonged exertion, insufficient sleep, improper food, persecution at the hands of M., and other factors of a life which would have taxed the fullest nervous resources, fell chiefly upon her. She suffered a large part of the time from pains in the hip and internal organs. She was in parts very subnormal to tactile sensations, and the deeper sensations of cuts, pinches and the like. Her senses of taste and smell were dull and her thermal ansthesia was so profound that on a cold winter day, when others warmly wrapped were complaining, she felt no discomfort in summer garb. Certain articles of food which M. or R. D., one or both, disliked, she liked, and some of which they were fond she never touched. But the table had not much attraction for her and she ate little. She had individual tastes as to hairdressing, clothes, and many other matters, which will be set forth in the Record. Such in brief was Sick Doris, at the height of her development. During the process of her dissolution in 1911, while her memories were rapidly departing from her own consciousness and emerging in the consciousness of R. D., the portrait was subjected to many shadings. Her various ansthesias deepened, until she could neither feel (except infernal pains), taste nor smell. The prick of a pin caused no movement, the strongest pepper-sauce was swallowed as though it were water. Her vision gradually narrowed and then shortened until she could see, as it were, only the interior of a hollow cone fourteen inches long and less than six inches in diameter at its farther extremity. As her memory decayed until she failed to recognize her

adoptive parents, her manner became more cold and reserved, until, as one turns a corner and faces a new view, she suddenly reached mental infancy and the unsuspecting and happy confidence of infancy, in which stage she made her occasional appearances until her extinction in June, 1911. 3. Sleeping Margaret. Sleeping Margaret, whose title is a misnomer, in that she was neither Margaret asleep nor in any respect like Margaret, probably adopted her name because she came at practically the same time as Margaret (a few moments earlier, according to her statement) and because in some obscure fashion she stood in what might be called local proximity to Margaret. She was the especial riddle of the case. From appearances one would say that she always slept, since she practically never talked except when the eyes were closed, but she professed never to sleep, and in fact was never known to wander in her speech or to oscillate in the clearness of her understanding. We have seen that R. D., S. D. and M. each part of the time reigned supraliminally, and each part of the time became subliminal, the latter two consciously so. But it is hard to fix S. M.s status, whether it was ever strictly supraliminal or strictly subliminal. When M. was out, to use a quasi-technical term employed by the personalities, meaning supraliminal, R. D. and S. D. were in, that is, subliminal. Likewise when S. D. or R. D. was out, the remaining two members of the trio sunk into
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the interior depths. But, up to a late stage, S. M. talked only when M. was out, though asleep. There was no question that M. was supraliminally there and sleeping in her curious fashion, for, though mysteriously inhibited from hearing S. M. talking with the same lips, she often made remarks in her own very different tones, sometimes cutting a sentence or even word of S. M.s in half, and performed her characteristic acts unconscious that she was interfering with another. The expressions of the two flitted across the face in turn, or were sometimes momentarily blended, and many illustrations will be given of the two consciousnesses acting at the same time, now in unison, but more frequently at cross-purposes. S. M. seemed to be as truly out as was M. sleeping, and yet is it possible for two mental complexes to be operative not only at the same time but at the same psychical level? S. M. herself would say, I am never out or in; I am always here. It was held that subliminal M. was nearly always conscious, ranging through three degrees of awareness, from intense to obscure. But S. M. professed to be always conscious, somewhere, without distinctions of degree. And a system of signals was devised without the knowledge of M., who indeed, like the other personalities had no knowledge even of S. M.s existence, by which S. M. and I might hold intercourse while M. was awake. I never knew intelligent response to fail when I began to use the code, manifesting a consciousness fully alert and at work underneath a consciousness engrossed in its own affairs and unobservant of what was going on. Never, that is to say, save in a few instances where S. M. professed to have been out of the body and yet not

less conscious wherever she was. And certainly at such times some profound change took place, some internal displacement, powerfully evidencing itself in the feelings of M., and particularly those of R. D. As M. approached her end S. M. acquired, or at least first exercised the power to talk during the sleep of R. D., a practice which she kept up after R. D. had been restored to full continuity of consciousness. In case of emergency she would latterly warn or advise R. D. while the latter was awake, by what is technically known as automatic speaking, with her vocal organs. Even as M. disclaimed proprietorship over parts of the body, S. M. uniformly disclaimed ownership of any part of it, yet she had limited and intermittent control, during the sleep of M., or at a later stage of R. D., of the facial muscles, the instrumentalities of speech, and of the limbs. She went so far as to sit up at times, but never to walk or stand, giving the reason, however, that this would endanger waking and frightening the personality sleeping. She had her characteristic voice, pitched a little lower than that of R. D., though most resembling hers, more musical than that of S. D., lacking the kaleidoscopic intonations of M.s. Her facial expression was usually that of philosophical calmness, though she would often smile sedately, or even break out into laughter, especially at some odd speech or antic interpolated by M. Mentally, she seemed the maturest of all, in fact impressed me as if she were a woman of forty. She was my chief coadjutor in the cure, though M. was also generally anxious to help, studied the progress of R. D., and gave valuable information. But Sleeping Margaret studied
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the interior situation unremittingly, watched the result of my experiments and reported thereon, suggested measures which often proved of great importance, and made predictions as to the development of the case which were nearly, not quite, always justified by the event. She appeared to be, judging by her utterances respecting interior relations and psychical mechanics, etc., of a highly analytical and philosophical mind, but she herself uniformly disclaimed having reasoned out her dicta, saying, I only tell what I see. Her memory in a general way seemed to embrace that of the other three, with additions of her own, and yet occasional details recollected by one or another, R. D., S. D., or M., she admitted having forgotten. But as the cure of the case became well advanced she herself notified me that she was forgetting many incidents of D.s childhood and I discovered that the complicated schemes of psychical mechanics which she had formerly recited so smoothly, with no essential discrepancies appearing on subsequent cross-examinations, were fading from her memory. Her own explanation was that she no longer reviewed the events of D.s childhood or a system of psychical relations which had mostly passed away, because there was no longer any use in so doing, her own office as guardian was becoming a sinecure, and she was now giving the most of her attention to her own affairs. But with this exception thus plausibly accounted for, she underwent no mental alteration whatever, being in this as in certain other particulars a contrast to the other secondary members of the group. In general, she claimed to feel, see, taste, etc., only through the sensations of the oth-

ers, nevertheless there were articles of food for which she entertained a preference. She was the only one of the four thus far described who showed not a trace of suggestibility. If anyone became strenuous in his attempts to foist his views upon her by argument or suggestion, she might respond Oh, certainly! or Yes, of course! with intonations which expressed irony so subtly that they might and sometimes did deceive a comparative stranger. Still, though firm in her opinions, she was amenable to reasoning, as any sensible person is. But when she thought that the data were within her purlieu and that her opponent did not know what he was talking about, she did not hesitate to say so. Very rarely she took offense, in which case she usually relapsed into silence. Further traits and claims of this singular psychical entity must be gathered from the Record.
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TWO By Walter F. Prince. 4. Sleeping Real Doris. Sleeping Real Doris is the name which M. very properly applied to a somnambulic personality which was created at the age of eighteen, in consequence of a fall and injury to the head and back. She would make her appearance only now and then after Real Doris had fallen asleep, and it is doubtful if she ever rose fully above the threshold, or R. D. ever sank completely below it during her manifestations, though the latter was not conscious of her or any more aware of her existence than of the existence of S. M. She was like the fog which exhales from a lake and hangs over its surface. It is doubtful if she had self-consciousness. Yet she had her peculiar facial expression when she was reacting to external stimuli, one of quizzical puzzlement; her characteristic harsh, croaking tones, on the rare occasions in which her utterances were not those of an automatic transmitter; and repeated tests showed that she had memories which were not those of R. D. or of S. D., but were exclusively her own. She passed through three stages. The first continued up to the time when S. D. began to decline, and was marked by two different though similar phenomena:
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(a) The substantial if not literal (the writer is inclined to think it literal) reproduction of R. D.s or S. D.s part in past conversations, which originally took place at any time from the day before back to the days of early childhood. According to the several dates of the conversations, the facial expression and the tones covered the whole range from childhood to young maturity, and sounded nearly the whole gamut of the emotions. It is easier to suggest these wonderful scenes to the imagination than to describe them. But it was hard to avoid the conviction, when one listened to one side of a conversation, for example, between R. D. and her mother when the former was seven years old, heard the childish tones so charged with adoration, saw the ecstatic juvenile countenance from which all care and sorrow had magically been erased, and noted how as she paused for the loved voice that none other could hear, she laughed and clapped her hands with joy, it was, I say, hard to avoid believing that one was hearing and beholding a very transcript of the tones, looks and gestures of fifteen years before. Especially was this the case considering that at another time the conversational part reproduced would be one borne by S. D. the very day before, and the exact similitude of her tones and looks and weary manner appeared and her characteristic expressions were heard. (b) Reproductions of soliloquies originally uttered by Real Doris on her brief emergences from psychical incarceration, under various circumstances and at different times during the preceding five years. In the second stage the conversation-recitals ceased, but the soliloquies became more frequent. In the third stage, while the solilo-

quy-rehearsals were gradually decaying, a tendency to respond to external sensory stimuli was first observed. Sleeping Real Doris seemingly was developing, though S. M. said that she was not really doing so. Presumably the internal seismic displacement caused by the obliteration of S. D., which, while it rounded out R. D.s memories and increased her psychical grasp upon all her bodily machinery, at the same time placed more burden upon both R. D. and M. and produced in them emotional disturbances for a time, also liberated in the flickering consciousness of Sleeping Real Doris a transient breeze of energy. There is no doubt whatever that by experimenting with various types of stimuli S. R. D. could have been educated into self-consciousness and sundry forms and degrees of mental functioning. Indeed, she showed such a disposition to respond to the few tentative essays which were made in this direction that I properly took alarm and wholly abstained from any unnecessary repetition. The sequel was that the feeble flame, which for a brief space seemed to burn a little brighter, soon faded, and suddenly went out altogether. The foregoing portraiture of the secondary members of the five-fold Doris group is already too long and yet is inadequate. The reader will later learn that the transitions from one to another were often marked by striking physical signs besides those hitherto mentioned, such as alteration of the pulse, instant resumption of even breath by R. D. coming from S. D. panting convulsively with excitement, water trick- 16 -
ling from M.s blind eyes a few moments after R D., with eyes not injuriously affected by the lamplight, had departed. He will witness a great variety of incidents occurring in the relations of the personalities to each other. The evolution of the case toward final reintegration will show various psychical cataclysms, shiftings, blendings and shadings. It is believed that the unexampled opportunities for constant observation presented by the Doris case have added something to our knowledge of abnormal mental processes, and, by legitimate inferences, have thrown light upon the workings of the normal mind also. Besides this, certain complicated and symmetrical statements were made by M. and particularly by S. M. bearing upon such problems, which are at least worthy of attention. 5. Intercognition and its Mechanism. A brief statement of the intercognitive powers of each of the personalities at the time of their widest extension should be added here, leaving minutiae and the many alterations which appeared in the course of the process of reintegration to the Record. Real Doris. Real Doris had no direct knowledge of the thoughts or acts of any of the secondary personalities. That is, she could not see into their minds or remember anything that had occurred during their supraliminal periods; no valve of her consciousness opened in the direction of any of

them. She learned much from the chance remarks of her associates, inferred much from the situation in which she found herself and from what may be called the after-image of their emotions lingering subsequently to her arrival. Both M. and S. D. left notes for her to read. Habitually, in childhood, subliminal M. conversed orally with her, of course using the same mouth without her volition, but later in life only occasionally uttered ejaculations, as S. M. began to do after M. vanished. Within the period of my observation, not only sporadically unspoken sentences or single words bubbled up from a lower personality, conveying a hint or an admonition, but she was often aware of an inward perturbation from which she could correctly infer the sentiments of the subliminally co-conscious M. Besides, the emotionally colored thoughts of M. sometimes figured in the dreams of R. D., but without recognition or identification. All these phenomena are strictly analogous to the varied modes by which a person whose mind I cannot penetrate, conveys to me disclosures and tokens of his thoughts by means of oral statements, letters, shouts from a distance, gestures and so on. So far as R. D.s own insight was concerned, every secondary personality was separated from her by an opaque wall. Sick Doris. Sick Doris knew or was capable of knowing (since like any normal person she did not always pay attention to what was within view) all that R. D. did, said, experienced and thought. The usual assumption
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would be that she had this knowledge because on each of her successive arrivals following R. D., the memories of the latter were transferred to her en bloc, and that they were regarded by her as referring exclusively to the experiences of another than herself. I believe that this assumption is psychologically unsound, that her claim, like the claim of Sally in the Beauchamp case, to be subliminally co-conscious during the periods of the primary personality, was true. In that case, she knew what R. D. had done, said, heard and thought, because she had actually been an observer at the time, so that all these experiences of R. D. were, while they were in actual progress, incorporated into her own stream of consciousness. She remembered as I remember what Robinson did last night, not because Robinson mysteriously handed over to me his memories on my waking this morning, but because I recall what I myself saw him do. Of course it cannot be absolutely proved that S. D.s co-consciousness during R. D.s supraliminal periods was always equally clear any more than it can be absolutely proved that it was continuous. On the analogy of M., it would seem likely that it was subject to certain fluctuations, though I cannot say that I ever found her, when in her prime, to be seriously at fault in her statements regarding R. D. But R. D. was the only one into whose consciousness she had insight. The others were enclosed from her in chambers into which she could not look. When M. was out, S. D. was as if annihilated for the time being. She knew much about M., but because M. chose that she should know, and by processes almost perfectly coterminous with those by which R. D. became aware of a modicum of acts

and sentiments of two of the characters beneath her. M. and S. D. wrote notes to each other, they held frequent oral conversations, and in the consciousness of the latter emerged emotions and unspoken thoughts of which she well recognized the source and the meaning. Margaret. Margaret had, or was capable of having (for she also might have her attention-absorbed by some matters to the neglect of others) knowledge of the experiences of every sort and the thoughts of both R. D. and S. D. Curious allegations were made to the effect that her knowledge of S. D. was immediate, while that of R. D. was mediate, reflected as it were from S. D.s consciousness as from a mirror, but I will not complicate this introductory sketch with them. In her prime she was able to tell me all or at least something about every incident that took place during a period when one of her higher colleagues was supraliminal. She too, it was declared, remembered because those incidents took place under her observation, she being subliminally co-conscious during their occurrence. Indeed, it was claimed that she had a conscious existence absolutely unbroken, waking or sleeping, save for very rare and brief intervals during her periods out when she entered, usually voluntarily and because of weariness, what may be called a comatose condition, and for that one of her four subliminal stages known as away and sleeping, which so long as she was in her prime seems to have been comparatively infrequent and of short du- 18 -
ration. But her otherwise uninterrupted consciousness was not always equally clear. Besides fluctuations when she was supraliminal and awake, analogous to those to which the normal person is liable, and the variations of her supraliminal sleeping state, from simple dreaming to the utilization of every sensory connection with the outside world except sight, she was capable, it was declared, of four distinct degrees of awareness when in a subliminal relation. That some such scheme actually existed was evidentially indicated. The situation of M. as respects Sleeping Real Doris fell out of the general order. She heard the utterances of this inchoate personality and followed her acts, but could only infer her independent thoughts, so far as the latter possessed these. And she knew none of the thoughts of Sleeping Margaret, nor even of her existence, until late in the case, when, because of a dramatic exercise of energy by S. M. in an emergency, M. inferred that there must be another personality, much as the existence of the unknown planet Neptune was inferred because of the exercise of its attractive energy. But she was earlier often aware of opposition and even punishment the source of which she could not define. Sleeping Real Doris. Sleeping Real Doris was in a class by herself. She had no knowledge, properly speaking, of any of the others; she was simply an automatic phonograph to preserve and from time to time to repeat utterances originally delivered by R. D. or S. D., anywhere from a few

hours to many years previously. She did, indeed, a few times repeat a word or short phrase from M., but seemingly this was because she caught it as it were, in passing, as it was uttered by M. a few moments before her own arrival. Sleeping Margaret. Sleeping Margaret completes the series whose uniformity S. R. D. only interrupts. She had insight into all the content of the consciousnesses of R. D., S. D., and M., and that insight was declared, and appeared, to admit of no varying degrees, though she as well as the others might fluctuate in attention. It was, or appeared to be, potentially perfect. She claimed to have an absolutely continuous memory so that her knowledge of the thoughts of the others was not a transference but a part of the content of her own observation. As M. declared that she had direct view of S. D.s thoughts but saw those of R. D. mediately through S. D., so S. M. alleged that she, in turn, saw M.s thoughts directly; those of S. D. through, or as she preferred to say, reflected from the consciousness of M., and those of R. D. as reflected from the consciousness of S. D. to M. and again from that of M. to herself. S. M. knew no more what passed in the shadowy mind of S. R. D. than did M., except that she drew shrewder inferences from her few gestures and other acts. The intercognitive powers of S. M. and M. gradually decayed as the primary personality progressed in reintegration, and the many and
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striking changes which took place in degree and process are to be found scattered through the pages of the Record, readily to be combined and compared by aid of the analytical index. 6. Conclusion. The writer has had in mind two classes of readers whose claims and possible demands are somewhat divergent. First a class made up of psychologists, physicians, and students of psychology and the healing art. If to such these records appear unduly voluminous, it should be remembered that it will not take a tithe of the time or energy to peruse them that it would to extract the same amount of illuminative material from the study of an actual case, and also that it is such faithful daily memoranda made throughout the whole cycle of mental and physical changes from a condition of extreme disintegration to reintegration that the best substitute may be found for first-hand study of a type so rare that the interested investigator may well pass a whole lifetime without having seen or at least recognized a single well-developed case. The importance of the revelations of a complicated instance of dissociation in relation not only to morbid or abnormal psychology but also to the analysis of the normal mind, can hardly be over-estimated. Psychical elements which normally are as it were inextricably commingled are here to a large extent isolated, untwisted like the strands of a rope. The cover is off from the psychical piano, and the working of

the levers can be seen. The handwriting of the emotions is registered in large characters. The psycho-chemical reactions from stimuli of every sort may be tested as in a laboratory. The greater and less shocks of life whose results the normally integrated mind glosses over and conceals never fail to ring bells in the personalitiesthe lower selves who like erewhile submerged sides of an iceberg come to the surface. Such reactions, such psychical mechanics, are not different in kind but only in degree in normal mentality. The same causes which are destructive in the abnormal are destructive in the normal mind; those which are stimulating and upbuilding in the one class are stimulating and upbuilding in the other. The normal mind may steel itself against shocks, but it cannot wholly avoid their effects, or at least it is in their direction that danger lies. And as to various morbid psychological conditions, especially that immense class of cases roughly brought together under the title of hysteria, these lie on the very border-land of Dissociation, and the teachings of the Doris case are eloquent in their behalf. In their behalf, I say, for it is not merely theoretical understanding of such conditions which is forwarded, but the actual pathway of their rectification is indicated. In other words, what treatment worked badly in the Doris case will be mistaken treatment in most cases of hysteria, etc., and in general what was followed by beneficial results in the Doris case will likewise be productive of benefit in the less grave border maladies. But, secondly, this work has in view readers who, though not professionals or special students of abnormal psychology, take an intel- 20 -
ligent interest in the problems of the human mind. On their account, unfamiliar technical terms are avoided when possible. Such as must be employed are for their convenience defined in a Glossary. It is hoped that many laymen may read these records carefully enough to be confirmed in and spread the gospel of psychical healing. Sufferers from hysteria and allied psychoneurotic disorders are much in need of intelligent sympathy, and are of all patients about the least likely to get it. They are as sensitive as an aneroid barometer, to the subtle alterations of tone, expression and manner by which their associates consciously or unconsciously express a critical attitude. One may determine that he will not show it, but if he inwardly thinks that the patient is shamming, or scheming, the hypersthetic hysteric will almost surely feel it and the injustice of it. Her own relatives, however they may love her, are often the most censorious and unjust in their misconceptions, and place the most obstacles in the way of recovery. Scolding, reproaches, well-meant intimations that it is all imagination, etc., produce feelings of being misunderstood, mingled self-reproach and self-justification, resentment, grief,all psychic poisons. I have known a mildly dissociated patient to reflect the suddenly changed mental attitude of her physician as by magic, and her prognosis to become at once more hopeful, though he had been unaware of betraying his former suspicions. How much more will undisguised and continual nagging in the patients home, due to ignorance, aggravate her symptoms and block her recovery. To be sure, it is a mistake to coddle, but unsympathetic treatment is as great a mistake and tenfold

more likely to occur. To lead her away from even her hallucinations, one must treat the hallucinations with respect. Morbid thoughts are not to be thrown out by direct assault, but by bringing into the city the Trojan horse replete with sound and healthful thoughts. When she has won self-respect by feeling that she is respected, she will generally be easy to lead slowly out of the quaking sands to surer and surer ground, not indeed by neglect of physical measures, but with chief reliance upon a proper psychological regime.
Have I not placed too much emphasis upon the psychical factor in the methods of treating such patients as we have been discussing? I reply that there are of course cases where the root of the trouble is more cerebral and neural than mental, and where the treatment must be adjusted accordingly but there are a vast number where it is to be found in morbid, and as it were, dislocated, conditions of the mind itself. But do not all such conditions nevertheless rest upon the physical basis of the cerebro-neural system, and should not treatment in the nature of things be addressed in all cases primarily to the rectification of bodily conditions? I do not propose here to dogmatize or to enter into the controversy as to whether the mind is an entity by itself, or a function of the brain, for it is not necessary. No matter what their formal doctrines may be upon this subject, one by one the leading specialists in the actual treatment of psychopathies have been coming over to the conviction that the most successful way of dealing with these is by methods
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chiefly psychical. It is usually those whose interest in morbid psychology is mostly intellectual and speculative who distrust these methods most; those whose interest runs in the harness of their actual efforts to relieve their afflicted fellows are coming rapidly into line. Not that there are not plenty left of the old school, who are always doctoring the nerves, and attempting to overcome auto-intoxication. I have in mind two specialists in this general class of patients in the same city, both educated and intelligent gentlemen, but one of the old school, the other one of the apostles of psychic medicine. One looks over the notes of cases reported by the former to a medical journal, and it would be amusing to observe the monotonous reiteration at the close of the most of these, no improvement, the patient died, slight improvement, followed by relapse etc., if it were not pathetic. The other is having the record which is now building up the reputation of the new school, many complete successes, a few partial successes and failures. Actual experience is, I say, forcing medical men into the channels of psychical treatment of mental disorders, irrespective of what may be their formal theories as to the ultimate nature of the mind, and its relations to the body. This is curiously illustrated by the valuable little treatise by Dr. Paul Dubois, The Psychological Origin of Mental Disorders. Dr. Dubois says, In my view, consequently, the word soul (me) designates, not a special essence distinct from the body, but a special function of the brain, the psychological function, and he retains the terms mind and soul, not to designate something different

from the body, but to indicate clearly the special character of this psychological function: the existence of the phenomena of consciousness. This seems clear enoughthe body is the real thing, and the mind but a function; therefore ultimately the malady must reside in the nerve-cells and other somatic elements. But nevertheless, he immediately proceeds to treat consciousness as though it were a thing in itself, talks of mental causation, approves Kraepelin in that he recognizes the psychological origin of these disturbances of ideation, decries the tendency on the part of some to seek the cause of psychopathies in somatic and particularly in toxic conditions, declares that the essential cause of mental disorders is still too much sought after in entirely material processes, announces his own conclusion that the true cause of the psychopathies is therefore to be found in native weakness of the mentality, lays the emphasis of treatment on the reforming of pathological mentalities, and finally declares that this is the true and only treatment for the psychopathies (italics mine). Dubois names other theoretical monist-materialists besides himself who in practice are like the young man of the parable, who stated his preference for a station outside of the vineyard and yet was later found laboring with others inside. The writers opinion is of little consequence, but he may venture to remind the reader that Doris was cured. As many times as general judgments or opinions are expressed in text or footnotes, it has been intended to keep them in the rear of so much offered evidence as will enable the reader to form independent judgments and opinions. Yet in general only samples of the evidence
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can be offered. Back of a dictum often lies not only a certain number of recorded observations to support it, but ten or fifty times as many which had to be omitted because the printed work was not to run to five or ten volumes. Yet some questions arising in the course of the study are left quite open. The testimony is offered, but the time for a verdict has not yet come. Nor is it at all certain that all of the current conclusions of psychological science here concurred in are inerrant. This last sentence is added wholly as a caution to the lay-reader, not as an intimation that psychologists consider that all their present conclusions are fixed and unalterable. 7. Supernormal Incidents or Illusions. The reader will find in the record incidents of the so-called occult order, a few being related to alleged telsthesia (more commonly named clairvoyance), many to telepathy and a few, mainly involving allegations of Sleeping Margaret, to spiritism. It may be that he will directly be affronted, and demand why these incidents are admitted, unless the writer is credulous and unscientific. A few remarks are necessary here to make my position plain. Formerly, I was as prejudiced as anyone could be against all hypotheses admitting what are known as occult factors, and as proud of that fact as I am now ashamed of it. For my reason has been sufficiently illuminated so that I now see that, merely as a matter of logic, no hypothesis which comes forward with prima facie credentials is forthwith to be expelled as

common or unclean. As a matter of precaution, it is not to be kicked away, with cavalier contempt, without a hearing. The annals of science are too strewn with the skeletons of learned dogmatism not to offer warning to the thoughtful. When one remembers the ridicule and contumely with which what were regarded as the occult claims of mesmerism (hypnotism) were treated, he is not inclined to risk adding another skeleton to the desert sands of cocksureness. But I am not in this work advocating any occult theory whatever, but only recording the actual data in the case. There can be no intelligent question of my duty as a historian of the facts. It makes no difference whether the facts please my intellectual and sthetic palate or that of my readers; it is none of my business in what direction the facts may seem to point. I am but the witness who is to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. It may be that the seemingly occult facts have a non-occult signification, but whether or not, they must have some significance, and the record would be defective, perhaps fatally so, with them omitted. The useless facts of one generation, which have interest only for the intellect, often become useful ones in the next. Many a hard-headed man formerly muttered disdainfully, Whats the use of studying bugs and flies? but now even the ivory-enclosed intellect is aware that intimate knowledge of flies and bugs is leading to successful war against some of the worst diseases of men. Residual mysterious facts of psychology, which are often omitted or glossed over in scientific reports, will be, judging from the past, the very keys of some citadel of knowledge,if not of one, then of another. Some
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day every scientific reporter will add to his litany some such franchise as this: From the dishonesty that suppresses facts, from the cowardice that will not utter them, from the dogmatism that cannot see them, Good Lord deliver us! As Dubois has said in another but not irrelevant connection (Psychological Origin of Mental Disorders. page 54) To suppress a problem is not to solve it, yet that is what is constantly being done. On a number of occasions M. obtained information, sometimes of a complex character, which if not acquired by telepathy I confess inability to account for. One instance only will be summarized here, not because it is the best but because it can be given in short compass. On the evening of Nov. 29th, 1911, M., after looking awhile into my eyes with an intent and curious expression, exclaimed, You wrote to a man named Prince todayto Dr. Prince . . . You wrote about Doris . . . You asked him how someone was getting on. The fact is that I had that afternoon, without acquainting anyone of my intention, written to Dr. Morton Prince for the first time. I did write chiefly about Doris. I did not ask how anyone was getting on, but I did very distinctly debate in my mind whether to ask him if Miss Beauchamp was still mentally stable. I took pains to make it impossible that anyone should see me write either the letter or the address on the envelope, as I did not want the girl to suspect that I was writing about her, mentioned that I had written to no one, and while alone put the letter where no one could possibly get at it. M. told not only to whom I had written, and what I had written about, but also specified a thought which had not been set

down in black and white at all. When she made one of these announcements, it was always after she had gazed steadily, with a look of interested amusement, into my eyes. Her own claim was that she saw, not what I was consciously thinking of at the moment, but what was passing like a parade down underneath. And it was true that what she revealed was always something that I had thought of not long before. She never made an incorrect announcement of the kind. Nor did she ever manifest any desire to show off in this or other matters, and appeared to regard them as mere games, in no way remarkable. When R. D., before her mothers death, was away from the house, she often had a subjective vision of the latter engaged in one way or another, and on her return would inquire and find that the mother had been so engaged at the time. There can be no doubt of her absolute confidence that such were her frequent experiences, nor does she have the feeling of most other people that there is something outre and bizarre about them. I leave it to others to say that these are mere hallucinations of memory. Knowing as I do the mentality of the girl, I do not believe that the explanation is here, wherever it may be found. M. also, it was alleged, had clairvoyant and veridical visions, though no such sophisticated terms were employed by the personalities. Similar claims were made in regard to S. D. Should telepathy pass the gauntlet of science there would be no particular difficulty in admitting a visual type of telepathy, though that description would not agree with the views of the personalities. One instance said to have been experienced by S. D. was carefully canvassed, as is set forth in the Record. I am far
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from saying that the evidence is sufficient to establish the validity of a claim of this sort, in fact I do not think it much stronger than would be required for the condemnation of a man to the gallows. In 1912 R. D. had two vivid visual hallucinations of her dead mother. Two facts in connection therewith are of interest. (a) These experiences did not occur when she was in a pronounced psychopathic condition but when she was well on toward recovery, and (b) in the first instance she saw a hallucinatory shadow before she caught sight of the apparitional image. On one occasion, partly while M. was reading and quite unconscious of what her hand was doing, and partly while she was actually asleep, she produced automatic writing of the usual occult purport. A number of times afterward when conscious of it, but probably not capable of its execution by direct volition, and even after she had ceased being capable of writing from conscious will, automatic writing of the same description was produced by her hand. In 1914 I twice heard a hallucinatory voice, which was never satisfactorily explained. Never in my life had I experienced anything of the kind, when ill, nervous, overworked, excited, or in any other condition, and on these occasions I was well, free from anxiety, calm, and wholly unexpectant. The only relevance of this mention is that S. M. claimed that in the first instance the voice was her own, super-normally projected. The claim in itself was unconvincing, and I lay no weight upon the incidents other than as psychological phenomena which will

generally be regarded as quite explicable and conforming to type. They are added simply in allegiance to the principles of classification. It may be that the frequent reading of my lips by M. asleep, while no breath was consciously emitted, should be set down in the list of prima facie supernormal features of the case. It certainly was not an illusory one. 8. Classification of Readers. I have hitherto classified readers as professional and unprofessional. But they may also be cross-divided, according as they do this work the honor of perusing it cursorily or with care, in part or in its entirety. The interests of each of the latter-indicated classes have been provided for. (a) Those who wish merely a general knowledge of the Doris case will find it in this introductory chapter so far and in the chronological narrative summary immediately to follow. Their attention is directed to the Glossary and Appendices, as well as to the portraits and diagrams to be found in the body of the work. (b) Those whose patience is equal to a complete reading, or (c) those who are interested in studying some particular phase of the case, will find in the Index an efficient aid in combining and comparing data. The index is analytical and unusually full and explicit, and the attempt has been made to put it into the most convenient form for working purposes, even though that has involved, to a degree, departure from the strict principles of logical classification.
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It is not known that cuts from photographs of the personalities in a case of dissociation have ever before been spread before the public. The subject in this case has yielded her natural feeling of reluctance to the claims of science. Consequently there are entered twenty-five portraits, one of which is of Real Doris taken under peculiar circumstances; one of Margaret at the age of five, two of Margaret in later life and two of her asleep; three of Sleeping Margaret; one of Sick Doris in her prime and fifteen of her after she had declined to mental infancy. Only Sleeping Real Doris is left unrepresented, owing to the difficulties of photographing her. There is much in these portraits which is distinctive, and yet it need hardly be remarked that such disparity between the personalities as was depicted on the living, moving countenance, is not to be expected. Facial expression, like consciousness, is a stream, and a photograph is but an instantaneous cross-section, in which the vivid fullness of the individuality is lacking, since the mind of one who looks upon a living countenance receives not simply the image of the moment but also the after-effect of the flitting changes which have just preceded it. II. Summary of the Facts. The summary of the facts recorded in detail in the Daily Record is designed to furnish the general reader with a clear and graphic account of the case without finding it necessary to go through the entire account of it from day to day in the course of the many years observation upon

it. The careful scientific man will desire to study the case in detail, and indeed without this feature of it the summarized statement would have no other value than the authority of the reporter. But any reader, who does not wish to trust that, has the complete daily record before him and this will sufficiently vindicate the judgment of Dr. Prince in the summary. Many readers will not care to go farther with the case and indeed certain busy professional men will not require to do so, if they place any confidence in the reporter of the facts. It is for them that this summary has been written. Others who wish a more intimate and thorough acquaintance with the facts and who do not wish to take their opinions second hand have the detailed record for their investigations. For them the summary will also be a help, as it will relieve them of the strain of sustaining the memory through so much reading. But the truly scientific story is in the Daily Record. The birds eye view will be found in the summary. This has been wholly compiled by Dr. Prince and follows this introductory note. 1. The First Dissociating Shock, and the Rise of Two Secondary Personalities. Doris was born March 31, 1889, of good German stock, without known neurotic tendencies on either side. The only ascertained possibly predisposing factors were these: (a) violent temper on the part of her father and his mother, which she did not inherit, (b) her fathers intemperate use of intoxicants for many years prior to her birth, (c) her
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mothers exceedingly imaginative temperament, (d) her mothers thwarted craving for affection and refined surroundings. When about three years old, her father in a fit of anger dashed her to the floor. It was in the midst of the previous quarrel, according to her statement, that Sleeping Margaret came into being. It was a few moments after the act of violence, according to both Sleeping Margaret and Margaret, that the existence of the latter began. Consistently, the account of the incident by M., (who had no insight into the mind of S. M.) lacked the earlier details mentioned by S. M. In the case of Miss Beauchamp, the child personality, Sally, claimed to have existed, but only as a subliminal co-consciousness, from the early childhood of the subject. Dr. Morton Prince, with scientific caution, debates whether her testimony was to be trusted. But that Margaret existed, not only as a subliminal co-consciousness, but also as a frequently alternating personality in upper control, there can be no question, because of the experiences of the primary personality, Real Doris, reaching back to her earliest recollection. The latter indeed remembers, as is not strange, nothing of the tragic incident which caused the shattering mental shock, but in the course of her recovery, nineteen years afterward, in one of those dreams which revive forgotten experiences of childhood (usually, as in her case, unrecognized), its details were pictured anew. The evidences of M.s early existence as a secondary personality that frequently came out and assumed control while Real Doris, the

primary consciousness, as it were vanished, are of the following character, (a) Real Doris is absolutely veracious, (b) She testifies that there was hardly ever a day within her recollection that she did not have lapses from consciousness, (c) She was never conscious of going to bed or of sleeping by night within her recollection, prior to 1911, (d) In early childhood she had exactly the same types of evidence of the existence of another consciousness in connection with her organism that she had in after years, such as hearing of things said and done by her of which she was ignorant, finding notes written to her by M., becoming conscious and finding herself in all sorts of strange situations, actual carrying on of conversations with M. in which the latter used the vocal organs without her (R. D.s) volition, experiencing the effects of M.s approval or indignation, and other experiences in great variety, (e) The testimony of S. M. and of M. supports that of R. D., and ten-fold the more because it respectively differs in detail and interpretation according to the point of view and the psychical quality of each of the three. No one who reads the variety of proofs in the full record can doubt the extraordinary fact that from about her third year Doris began to lead a divided life, now as R. D., with M. at least part of the time subliminally present, and part of the time as M. reigning supreme. Fortunately, there is still preserved a photograph of M. at the age of five, the expression plainly identifiable by those who knew her in later years.
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THREE By Walter F. Prince. 2. Potent Factors in Environment. The most unfavorable element, the great depressant, in Doriss life, was her own father. Subconscious horror after conscious memory of his terrible act had ceased, fear, abhorrence of his drunkenness, feelings outraged by his callous treatment especially of her mother, daily did their destructive work. For just one period of perhaps two weeks M.s activities notably declined and R. D. daily increased in control, and this was when the father was absent, confined in a hospital. The great stimulant which vivified her first seventeen years was her mother, whom she fairly idolized. There was a peculiar community of tastes and of sympathy between the two, and each found her chief joy in the other. In one way, however, the mothers influence was innocently unfortunate. Imaginative by nature, she found relief from her constant toil and her sordid surroundings in day-dreams of domestic felicity, luxury and beauty, and by sharing these with D. she encouraged a tendency already inordinately strong. Thus was the parted stream of D.s consciousness fed, and the ground loosened for possible new channels of dissociation. Another unfortunate circumstance was that the poverty of the family and her sympathy for the mother caused R. D. to exert herself to the
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limit of her energies, from the age of seven. Rising hours before a child should, in order to assist her mother, going to school during the day, working after school often until late at night, her vacations likewise filled with labor, she was robbed of sleep and kept on the ragged edge of exhaustion. Her school-days ended at fourteen, the variety but not the quantity of her exertion was decreased. 3. The Doings of Margaret. Only the most general description can be entered upon in this place, of this mercurial and irrepressible psychical entity, who sometimes amused R. D. by her utterances audibly or mentally heard, sometimes terrified her by mental, audible or written threats and by actual punishments inflicted upon her body and possessions, embarrassed her, came to her relief, coaxed and ordered, permitted and prohibited, according to her nature, passing mood and the circumstances. She herself often related (and S. M. endorsed the claim) that the first thing she ever did was to make the crying R. D. play with her fingers and toes. Furthermore she asserted, she used to make the child R. D. see things that werent there, cause her to hear choo-choo, ask her what her name was, etc. Later,and this R. D. well remembers,the two would have long conversations together, M.s replies being made aloud (at times), and with the same lips, but without R. D.s volition or slightest previous knowledge of what would be said. M. early asserted her own rights to certain property and demanded deference to various personal

tastes. One early lesson remembered by R. D. was that of letting M.s ball alone. She was impelled by a will not hers to pick up the ball with her left hand and to transfer it to her right hand, then the left hand plowed scratches in her cheeks and eyelids until they bled. From the time that she was four until she was about eight, her face was seldom entirely free from scratches, because she could not learn to keep her hands away from M.s property. When the lesson had been pretty thoroughly mastered the scratching mostly ceased, to be renewed only when R. D. became rash again. M. was an enfant terrible, cutting up tricks in school and departing so that R. D. received the blame, astonishing employers and strangers by her strange and often witty exclamations, showing no respect for the dignities of rank or riches, daring, pert, protean. Yet she was capable of putting on the brake at any time that she feared that the secret of her own being might be discovered. There was no such danger with the mother, to whom her daughter was, doubtless, simply a bundle of contradictory moods, incomprehensible at times but lovable always. She early learned to respect those moods, and to use strategy rather than punishment or even reproof in dealing with her youngest child. She knew not what moment the girl now so sedately employed might be seized by a gale of mischief, or suddenly dart from the house to be seen no more for hours. The mothers patience never failed, and to the last, with all her perplexities, she was fondest of this strangest of her children.
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When R. D. began to go to school at the age of six, she at first had a hard time, for incessantly there emerged in her consciousness the clamors of M., unused to such monotony, Come on! Lets go out! It was difficult for R. D. to study, and often M. coming would cut some ridiculous caper, and set the room in a giggle. Sometimes, in hot weather, M. would come and dash from the room without permission, later imperturbably returning, her head and perhaps her garments dripping with water. As M. came to realize, that R. D. could not be blamed for going to school, her complaints ceased, but not her outbreaks and her astonishing speeches. In spite of all drawbacks, R. D. secured high marks in her studies, but not for conductthat was quite impossible. Oft-times she came to consciousness to find herself being chided for misbehavior of which she knew nothing. She knew what it meant, but could not explain, so bore all patiently though often with tears, and taking upon herself the guilt of the real culprit, promised to do better. Often, too, the promises were seemingly disregarded, and the teachers were at their wits end to know how to handle the child of such singular moods. When psychical conditions were such that M. could not disappear to dodge impending punishment, she generally managed to escape by her genius for cajolery, her wit and winning charm, which would break down the wrath of the sternest of her preceptors. M. came out regularly to practice writing and to conjugate, since she liked these exercises, but seldom for any other recitations, except to help out R. D. in case of emergency. She had a fancy for changing her name, and in spite of the distaste of R. D., the name was Luella for several

terms. Of the copy-books which remain all but one are marked, in the writing of teachers, Luella Fischer, the remaining one bearing the true name, Doris. And so the days of school-life wore on, until, in spite of all draw-backs, D. was ready for High School at fourteen, the youngest but one in a class of fifty-two. But here M. put her foot down, and declared, No more school! She would not even permit R. D. to go and fetch her diploma, fearing that this would be the threshold to the attainment of the desire to enter the High School. At the age of seven, moved by her mothers financial distresses, R. D. of her own initiative began to get work nights and mornings, as well as all day during vacations. She was almost always successful in getting employment, and thus she very materially lightened the maternal cares by the money she brought in. When her school-days were over she was generally employed in one capacity or another. But it was never possible to stay away over night, for neither R. D.s affection for her mother, M.s fixed habitudes, nor the bizarre night practices whose revealing tendency both realized, would permit of this. Invariably it was R. D. who started up-stairs for bed. Invariably M. came at the head of the stairs, and invariably R. D. knew no more until she found herself down-stairs in the morning. But in the meantime what things had happened! When very young she slept with others, but caused them such annoyance that finally she was relegated to some quilts on the floor by a window. M. spent a longer or shorter time each night in playing, as evidenced by what R. D. would find in the morn- 30 -
ing. She would also, until the period when she so far fell behind R. D. in mentality that she was incompetent to do so, write out the school exercises for the next day. She likewise would write notes for R. D. to read, advising, reproaching, commanding her, according to need. M., like Sally of the Beauchamp case, always claimed that at first she was of brighter or more advanced intellect than the primary personality, and S. M., who was not averse to exposing the occasional romances of M., supported the statement. She appears to have mentally developed along with R. D., but gradually to have fallen behind. M. indeed, with her characteristic reluctance to admit any failing of her powers, never told me that she fell behind R. D., but S. M. asserted it, and the fact was evidenced by the gradual creeping into the school exercises done in the night of complaints and of exclamations like darn it! Perhaps two years before the schooling was over M. ceased to help in the exercises, because they had become too advanced for her. She had reached the limit of her intellectual expansion, while that of R. D. went on. M. was then of the mentality of an average girl of ten, and such I found her ten years later. 4. The Doings of Sleeping Margaret. Bearing in mind the description hitherto given of this singular psychic entity, it is not strange that she did not play any apparent part during fourteen years, or indeed until five more years had gone by, when she became the chief adviser on the cure of the case. Neither M.

nor R. D. was capable of a single glimpse into this buried consciousness, nor did they know in the slightest of her existence, until in 1911 necessity compelled her to take action that partly betrayed her to M., and in 1914 she by inadvertence yielded her secret to R. D. Witness as I became of the utter ignorance of all the other members regarding this wisest, calmest, maturest of the group, and regarding her thinking, watching, studying, conversing, going away and returning, all so familiar and certain facts to me, I can readily believe that she had previously existed, psychically active and in her way useful, although unknown and unsuspected. And since within the period of my observation it was evident that she could bring psychical force to bear upon M. by processes obscure but unmistakable, and even, when her existence became known to R. D. so that she chose to do so, warn the latter by audible utterances, credit can be given to her assertion that all those silent years she was watching over the safety of the girl, and could and did wake M. by night, make her alert during the day, and even turned the remoter consciousness of R. D. to thoughts and perceptions which would apprise her of danger. 5. Valuable Assets in the Make-up of Doris, In addition to her generally excellent physical endowment, the girl was of a psychical disposition and temperament which helped mightily to sustain her in her lot, and which might have caused spontaneous reintegration could the worst faults of her environment have been
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remedied. If her father could have vanished into thin air, and her mother have continued to live, such an outcome was very possible. That is to say, she had the immense advantage of a make-up in which amiability, hopefulness, a disposition to look on the bright side of things and to extract happiness from any possible materials for it, and abounding energy, were found. Anyone who possesses such a combination by nature has strong weapons in a battle with disease or with adverse circumstance. Anyone who does not innately own these in plenitude may cultivate them, and thus array great psychic forces on the side of his health and his life-work. But the reintegration of Doriss divided mentality was not possible, so long as one parent continued to be an object of horror, fear and grief, and so long as the other was an object of anxiety and wounded sympathy; so long as, in order to lighten the mothers troubles, she buried her own deeply in her breast, and for loves sake continued to labor beyond her normal strength. 6. Second Dissociating Shock and Addition of Sick Doris to the Group of Personalities. At about six in the afternoon of May 5, 1906, Mrs. Fischer, who had appeared perfectly well in the morning when R. D. left to go to her work, lay down, suddenly ill. Prompted by a nearly simultaneous occult experience, R. D. started home long before her usual hour, and arrived at about half past six. The stricken woman died at two in the morning, having uttered but two words, with only her husband

lying in a drunken stupor, and her daughter, present. R. D. overcome with grief, and undergoing a raging headache, nevertheless managed to maintain her individuality until she had performed the last offices in her power for her dead idol, whereupon M. took her place. Almost immediately thereafter a .terrible pain shot through the left cerebral hemisphere, M. vanished, and a new personality, afterwards to be known as Sick Doris, came into the drama. 7. Sick Doris an Infant Personality. The term infant personality must not be too literally construed. The new psychical entity was not reduced to an infantile grade as to the power of thought, but only as to the materials of thought. She was likewise better off than T. C. Hanna, in that she saw things as things in their true special relations. She was better off than Michael Haitch in that she had not amnesia of how to produce vocal sounds. But she was like both in nearly all other respects. She came without memory of any event whatever, of any face, any object, or the use of any object. She did not remember a single word, either to speak it or to understand its meaning when she heard it spoken. She instinctively moved her limbs, walked and handled objects with her fingers, but she did not know how to eat, and when she first imitatively drank coffee it simply ran down her throat, for she did not know how to swallow. She did not understand how to undress herself, or that she should undress or that the dress was a thing separate from herself. All affection was gone, and all
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grief; not a tremor remained of the mental agony of a few moments before. She was as one born with an adult body, and a maturely-inquiring mind, but with absolutely no memory and absolutely no knowledge. She found herself sitting on the edge of the bed looking at two similar shapes. She did not wonder how she herself came there or regard herself at all,her first mental experience was a languid curiosity as to why one of the similar shapes moved while the other was quiet. In fact, movement and immobility first seized her attention, and her main problem for the first two days was why similar things did not always behave in similar fashion. She did not inquire why chairs did not move about of themselves, for no chair did. But every figure of the shape of those prostrate ones of the first evening moved except one; consequently that one, the corpse, fascinated her, and she sought occasions to experiment upon it to see if she could not make it move. During the first days she wondered why some were doing a thing to her incomprehensible (weeping) and others were not doing the same, why one figure only was horizontal and yet in motion (the sick sister), while the rest, with the exception of the motionless one, were in different and changing attitudes. Differences of any kind were the first objects of her mental inquiry which she had no words to express, and particularly differences in respect to movement. From the first instant of her being she showed a classifying tendency.

8. The Education and Development of Sick Doris. She comprehended the most primitive type of language first, that of gesture. And here a swift process of inference, experiment and verification entered. For example, when in the morning she entered a room where her sisters were drinking coffee, they handed her a cup. She saw the cup approaching, saw that they held similar objects, inferred that she was to take it, and since after she did so nothing else happened concluded that she had done what was expected of her. She quickly learned to interpret expressions, and involuntary nods and shakes of the head in the midst of remarks which were unintelligible to her. She observed that following the issuance of sounds from the mouth of one person another would often be stirred to activity, and inferred that the sounds must have been intended for such effect. Some experiments by way of imitating the sounds were made, for instance she yapped out in the same tones a phrase uttered by sick Trixie, but the results were disconcerting, and she vaguely felt that the experiment was not successful. On the third evening M. began to take a hand, as subliminal teacher. When the lips began to utter a series of sounds S. D. knew that she was not responsible, and when the hands began to do things and the fingers to point, she felt that it was not her work. Nor was there any especial surprise, for during the two previous days M. had occasionally made the lips speak or the hands perform an act in case of emergency. M. made but little headway in her new vocation as pedagogue at first,
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since S. D. knew no language. But she soon hit upon the scientific way, the way to which the writer had to resort in the case of Haitsch, and to which others have resorted in similar cases. All the way I could get her to understand, said M. long afterward, was by doing things. She would say things over after me and do what I did. And as soon as M. by the double process of pointing and pronouncing the name of an object, performing an act and naming it, built up in the mind of S. D. a small vocabulary, the process of education became rapid. It generally is in such cases, scores of times faster than is the education of an infant, though proceeding on similar lines. The unique feature in the case of Sick Doris is that her chief teacher, though she was soon picking up knowledge on every hand, was another secondary personality. Night after night M. continued to labor, a stern and contemptuous preceptor. In a weeks time S. D. was fairly competent to get along, though she had many difficulties yet to meet. Nor did she ever become psychically complete or symmetrical, since to the end she was lacking on the side of the affections, though morbidly the slave of duty, and lacking in humor, in conceptions of the abstract, and in other respects. 9. The Four Personalities. More than once Mrs. Fischer had charged Doris not to live with her father should she herself be taken away. Perhaps she had noted the deleterious effects upon her daughter of the fathers proximity, or perhaps she only dreaded some act of violence in his drunken rages.

But R. D. from the night following the mothers death had no conscious existence for two months. The mentally-crippled S. D. mechanically continued what M. instructed her to do, and M. knew of nothing but to continue what R. D. had been doing. So the old routine, working away during the day, house-keeping mornings and evenings, went on. R. D., when she began to come again, put in very brief appearances, usually of not more than five minutes. There was a subsequent period of three months during which she did not come out once, and the sum of all her appearances for five years could not have equaled three days. Fortunately, all the secondary personalities were favorably inclined to her, and tried by every means to increase the number and length of her emergences. Overwork, together with the baleful influences of the home, chiefly militated against the primary personality. Upon the girl fell the major expenses of the household. M. knew that something must be done, and dinned it into the mind of S. D. that she must earn more money, by working at night. S. D. learned the lesson all too well. As M. afterwards ruefully expressed it, she began to work like fury,and then she made me work. By a process of abstraction S. D., particularly while sewing, could gradually enchain the will and entire consciousness of M., so that both consciousnesses co-operated, intent upon the task. Everything but the needle and the stitches faded away, the eyes never wandered from the work, color fled from the countenance, the fingers flew with magic speed, and hours passed before the spell was broken. In the full Report an instance is given of the proved execution
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of an elaborate piece of embroidery in less than quarter of the time that the most conservative judges estimated as necessary. In this instance the abnormal work went on more than twelve hours at a time absolutely without rest except such as was furnished by seizures of catalepsy, when the needle paused midway in the air, the body immobile and the eyes fixed, for ten minutes or more, whereon the arrested movement was completed and the task went on, S. D. not being aware that she had paused more than a second. When the task was ended M. would come out and dance a wild dance of joy. But one of the evil consequences was that she became malevolent against S. D. and entered upon a long series of revenges. With a malice that seems almost fiendish, she scratched S. D. with her nails, although she herself got the worst of it after the numbing effect of rage was over, in that she was less ansthetic than her colleague. Many times she tore out whole strands of hair, several times she actually grubbed out nails. She caused in S. D. sensations of nausea, and various pains, destroyed her work and her possessions, thwarted her plans, threatened, teased and taunted, her. And yet at times she pitied and comforted the harassed creature, and often came to her relief in emergencies. All these turmoils made the prison doors of R. D. still harder to open. Thus nearly all the life was divided between S. D. and M. The former was on the whole the dominant character for five years, though M. often got the upper hand and asserted herself as temporary tyrant. R. D. made her little pathetic appearances, five or ten minutes at a time, sometimes for several consecutive days, oftener at longer intervals. S.

M. still talked when M. was asleep, the latter still under the illusion that she was listening to her own voice. Still that profounder consciousness carried on her guarding function, and brought a psychic force to bear, mainly upon M., in cases of danger or other urgent need. And yet there were calamities which she could not prevent. 10. The Third Dissociating Shock and the Advent of Sleeping Real Doris. Toward the latter part of September, 1907, M., startled as she was going up a flight of steps, fell striking the head violently against an earthen crock. I will leave it to the physiologist to say if a group of neurons was thrown out of functional alignment by the shock; certainly, as M. afterwards expressed it, a little crack was made in R. D. The following night began the interesting verbal performances which in later days were shown to belong to a true though incompletely developed personality, Sleeping Real Doris. Thereafter, whenever in the dead of night R. D. would float briefly to the surface, she would be followed by this fifth and last member of the group, who, and whose functions, have been already sufficiently described for the purpose of this merely cursory sketch. According to S. M., a second fall about a year after the first seemed to strengthen S. R. D., particularly making here voice stronger.
11. Events Leading to the Coming of the Case Under Observation. In July, 1907, the writer removed from New York city to Pittsburgh, and took up residence within a square of one of the great thoroughfares, which we will call Colorado Avenue. On Oct. 4, 1908, D.s bedridden sister Trixie died. Henceforth she was more free to do as she pleased in her spare time, particularly on Sundays. Two days afterward the family moved to a house on Colorado Ave., within three squares of the Prince residence. Still lame from an operation upon her ankle, in Jan., 1909, S. D. started for a certain Methodist church, but, becoming weary, wandered into the nearer Episcopal church of which I was then rector. Just as the discourse began, R. D. emerged, and listened until its close, about twenty minutes, one of the longest periods she had experienced since her mothers death. In response to an invitation by an acquaintance, in October S. D. agreed to join a Sunday school, not knowing until her arrival on the 24th that it was in the Episcopal church that she had entered the previous winter. Mrs. Prince met her and paid her kindly attention. 12. The First Foundations of Cure. S. D. seemed fascinated by Mrs. Prince, and the latter was strangely drawn to the forlorn creature. The peculiar sympathy which she began to receive may be counted as the first of the curative influences which now began to enter the girls life. On Sunday, Oct. 31, she was taken to
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the rectory, and there I first met her. Its mistress encouraged her visits and they became frequent, but I paid her little attention and she seemed rather to avoid me. But toward the latter part of November I began a talk with her on the subject of reading, and R. D. came and held converse with a human being for the first time in three and a half years. About January, 1910, the girl began occasionally to eat at the rectory and presently, at the urgent invitation of her friend, she was having at least one meal a day there, securing her to a certain extent a more nourishing diet. About April she began to take naps at the rectory, but Mrs. Prince found it necessary to hold her hands much of the time while she slept to keep her from injuring herself and her clothing. Presently it became almost a fixed part of the daily program for two or three hours to be spent enabling her to get some degree of sleep, but at a cost to the watcher of much muscular and nervous strain. S. D. was at this time cherishing two hysteric delusions, one that she was an artist of extraordinary skill, and the other that she was doomed to die of tuberculosis. She was indeed doomed to die, unless conditions could be radically changed, but from vital exhaustion due to the various causes which have already been described. In spite of all pains taken in her behalf, she grew weaker as the months went by. Nevertheless, getting this creature of routine dependent upon her new friend, accustomed to the house which was one day to become her home, and inured to new and better habits of eating and sleeping, were absolutely necessary before she could break away from her fatal environment, and their subsequent influence was never lost.
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On my part, only casual attention was paid to the girl for many months. But I noticed many oddities, and regarded them with the usual Philistine cynicism. In the meantime both S. D. and M. were mortally afraid that I should hit upon their secret, and their perturbations and stratagems owing to this cause furnish an interesting chapter. But toward the end of the year, at Mrs. Princes solicitation, I began to see the girl safely to her home at night and also began to take more note of her at the rectory. Consequently, the delicately balanced scales of distrust and confidence toward me began to tip toward confidence, and another plank in the foundation of new possibilities was laid. 13. Discovery of Margaret. By January, 1911, Mrs. Princes own nervous condition was becoming threatening owing to the strain upon her. On the afternoon of Jan. 17, I first tried the experiment of seeing if it would be practicable for me to assist in guarding the patients sleep. The first extended observation of a long series of somnambulic alternations was entered upon, and I noted, now the spiteful voice uttering threats, with hands endeavoring to injure the body, now the wary, harassed expression and half-awakened murmurs, now the ecstatic smile, hands reaching out and tender pleading, Mother, dont leave me, now the kaleidoscopic and correspondent changes of voice, facial expression and manner as one side of conversations apparently dating from childhood to that very day were rehearsed, and now the shrinking form and pathetic appeals,

Daddy, dont hit me. Impressed that the somnambulic phenomena were worth noting down and studying, on that very day I began the daily record which continued with hardly a break for three years and four months. Speedily it was discovered that in a certain state the sleeper could hear me and fluently converse. On Jan. 20th, somnambulic references to that Doris first suggested the suspicion that a secondary personality might be speaking, and the evening was not ended before the suspicion became a certainty. Yet it was evident that the discovered personality (at first denominated X.) did not intend to betray herself. Occasionally she would stop with puzzled expression to inquire, Did you know that Doris? but as the conviction dawned upon her that at least a part of the secret was known she grew more and more frank. Moreover it appeared that X. asleep did not embrace the whole consciousness of X. awake, since the former was plainly unable to recognize in her interlocutor the Dr. Prince whom the latter knew so well, and constantly spoke of the latter as a third person. Taking unwise advantage of this fact, I soon began, when X. asleep threatened to hurt D., to tell her that Dr. Prince would punish her if she did so. This was all the more successful as a terrifying measure in that at that time M. awake stood in awe of me and came out as little as possible when I was present. M. asleep soon began to address her interlocutor as He. On Jan. 22nd, M. asleep told me that Doris called her by the name Bridget, and that she disliked the name. Feeling the need of some name
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for her, and wishing that she should have one agreeable to her, I asked if she would like another name, and she eagerly assented. Since she did not seem capable of selecting one unassisted I suggested several names, and at the mention of Margaret she accepted it with delight. Henceforth X. was known as Margaret. 14. Hypnotizedand Sleeping Margaret Speaks. On the evening of Jan. 22nd, S. D. came in jaded and miserable from punishments inflicted upon her by M., for disobeying orders to keep away from the rectory. M. asleep continued her efforts to revenge by scratches and vicious clutches. Thereupon I attempted suggestion, saying, Im going to I take away your power. * * You are losing strength. * * You are powerless, etc., and her struggles died away. D. (S. D.) woke and her vital powers seemed visibly ebbing. Her eyes fastened their gaze upon mine and seemed to become unnaturally fixed. Suddenly a voice sounded, though the features continued immobile,a new voice of authorityYou must get her out of this. She is in danger. * * Hurry! Walk her, walk her! It did not seem like any phase I had seen in the case, and really was Sleeping Margaret, though it was not at the time suspected that another personality had taken command of the situation. Little by little the girl was released from the hypnotic spell, and for more than half an hour after that M. and D. (S. D.) alternated like the movements of a weavers shuttle. This incident determined the permanent exclusion of hypnosis in the after conduct of

the case. Later in the night M. became more vicious than ever before witnessed, endeavoring with all her might to choke Doris. Not suspecting that the Doris whom I knew was not the primary personality, I told her facts about M. which she knew much better than I did, and started a series of efforts to strengthen her on her side while attempts were being made to subdue M. on the other. 15. Sick Doris Cut Loose from Various Entanglements. The normal person may best conceive how a hysteric can both powerlessly cherish and act out a delusion and yet in a manner be conscious it is a delusion, by remembering how, in certain dreams, one both believes that it is real and has a haunting suspicion that it is not. It is certain that S. D. attempted to contrive so that Mrs. Prince should see the hip that was supposed to be eaten with tuberculosis, and yet the strange fantasy went on; likewise she insisted in putting in my care the books supposed to contain some of her marvelous pictures, so loosely tied with a twine string that it makes convincing her after-statement that she meant that I should examine and find them blank, and yet the waking dream automatically proceeded. Discovery of the fabrications shattered their power over her, and the most of the pains accompanying the tuberculosis delusion, so severe that she jerked and sweat came out on her forehead even in her sleep, vanished immediately. She was also delivered by the authority of friends from that to which she had been
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enchained by the authority of other friends, the supposed necessity of undergoing the maltreatment of an ignorant osteopathist. 16. Amidst Hindrances, Improvements Begin. In addition to pains as to sleep and diet, exercises were prescribed to S. D. for control of the nervous system, and suggestion was liberally employed on both S. D. and M., with good results. On Jan. 26th the co-operation of Dr. W. K. Walker, Professor of psychiatry in the University of Pittsburgh, was secured, and a series of consultations begun which continued until removal from the city. His influence and advice were helpful to a degree that cannot adequately be set down. Feb. 6th, I began to waken S. D. when the time had come for her to return to her home, by saying, Wake quietly, wake happily, wake in a minute, with the effect of bringing her awake in a calmer and more painless state. In the meantime I generally refrained, for the first fortnight of February, from talking with M. asleep, but this policy was abandoned because it was perceived that talking (a) led to S. D.s securing quieter subsequent sleep, (b) increased psychic control over M., her good nature and co-operation, (c) made M.s own sleep quieter than it otherwise was in spite of the psychical activity of conversing, and so secured more rest to the system,. M. asleep continued to address me as He, and not until the close of the month began to identify my acts with those of Dr. Prince, and to wonder if I had not the same relation to

him that she had to Doris. Soon after He disappeared and Dr. Prince fully won his place. S. D.s sleep at home improved so that on the night of Feb. 9 she succeeded in remaining quietly in bed until the dawn, an epochal event. On the 11th came the first indication that she was beginning to lose her memories. As the time drew near when S. D. was to attempt to break away from her baleful environment, her perturbation increased the somnambulic walking, affected M. so that one evening she did not know her friends nor recognize the familiar objects in the rectory, and produced a period when M. was unable to read or to reckon. The winning of M.s confidence was a feature of the greatest value. The conclusion was gradually reached through a process of experiment that attempts to secure her sudden expulsion, and any policy involving coldness and neglect toward her, would hinder and not help the case. Her confidence grew until on the 27th she wrote out while asleep a long romance regarding the birth and early years of Doris, of which she had previously given verbal sketches. It afterward proved that this curious fable was invented in childhood, and the fancy that she had a rich father somewhere who loved her and would one day claim her was probably a refuge from the actual facts of her lot. The only mystery was why she assigned her beloved mother so ambiguous a place in the romance. Without being urged, she soon after admitted the fictitious character of the story.
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17. Revelation of Real Doris. The supreme proof of the winning of M.s confidence came on the 28 when she disclosed the central secret. You never saw the real Doris but a very little,when it was all Doris, she said impressively, and went to sleep adding, I will wake Doris so that she will be all Doris for a little while. And she did so, though I did not fully comprehend that the clear-eyed girl looking wonderingly about her was the primary personality, and as such quite another than S. D.
th
Later on in the record for the evening is found the first general description of the unknown Sleeping Margaret, who, fearful of the results of the meditated removal, was unsmiling, almost hostile, and monosyllabic. I supposed it was M. asleep in some strange mood, but probably M. was so exhausted that night that she hardly spoke in her sleep. 18. Revolution in Environment, and Resulting Rapid Improvement. On the 2nd of March I wrung from the father a reluctant and entirely heartless consent for his daughter to live for awhile with the family which she was destined never to leave. That night, after a scene of drunken rage which reached to personal violence, S. D. appeared at the rectory in a pitiful condition, and a night of mingled lamentation and fright followed. But the effects wore off quickly. The very next day R.

D. came for a few moments, surprised and overjoyed to find herself transplanted. The next day S. D. and M. ceased to converse. M. would seek to talk with S. D. in the old ways, but S. D. no longer responded. Some tie between them had snapped, and S. D., as M. often complained, could no longer hear her. On the 5th it was found that the fading memories of S. D. were beginning to emerge in the consciousness of R. D., and within two days these were coming in such a flood as almost to overwhelm her. Usually she recovered the termination of an incident first, and it often caught her gasping with surprise and perplexity as it stood out isolated and unexplained. The whole incident developed by no regular process, but in a general direction backward. The memory of S. D.s acts came before that of her reasons for the acts, and the originally accompanying feelings often never showed up at all. States of extreme abstraction and emotion were never recovered. S. D.s delusions came to light slowly and imperfectly. There was a dramatic incident after R. D. obtained an inner inkling of the substitution of a picture for the one in which she herself had endeavored to depict a dream. She demanded to know what that picture was and the whereabouts of the one which she had painted, and taking the former from the wall tore away the paper backing and showed the remnants of another underneath, indicating the substitution of the picture for one formerly in the frame. It was months before the process of the absorption of memories was completed, during which the disappearance of the corresponding memories from the consciousness of S. D. was nearly contemporaneous. Much came back during sleep in
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the form of dreams, and the process of assimilation was smoother in that case. On the 6th R. D. emerged for by far the longest time since her mothers death. Soon thereafter it was not unusual for her to sum up several waking hours in a day. At first she was satisfied with what she got, and ecstatically pronounced it like heaven, but the more her gains the more voraciously ambitious she grew to maintain herself, and the more she deplored losing time. And this, of course was as it should be. On the 9th, also, she was the one to sleep a considerable part of the night, which she had not done since she was three years old, and the very next night she reigned supreme and alone, and this became the rule, subject to many exceptions. Now the wake quietly, wake happily, wake in a minute formula was transferred to her and began to be the process for bringing her by night or by day. A characteristic happy smile on the sleeping countenance was the sign that she was near, and I ultimately learned to wait until it beamed brightly before using the formula, otherwise it might not be successful. It was found that she should be seen soundly asleep in her own personality, before leaving her, otherwise she failed to remain, but S. D. and M. spent the night between them. One day, while alone, M. struck the keys of the piano, and R. D. came, and sang, for the first time for five years. On the 21st R. D. was actually out more than ten hours awake. But she had been present but three minutes the preceding night. Even sleeping in her own personality meant increased expenditure of energy.

But from the 5 to the 10 S. D. was not seen, and M. thought that she was defunct. When she reappeared she was minus some of her memories. Again she was gone for six days, but on the 16th took up her old course of daily alternations. As S. M. afterwards said, she had to come, the burden of the changes was too great for R. D. and M. to divide between them. On the 27th, the practice of stretching was resumed after five years disuse, and soon afterwards those of yawning and sneezing.
th
th
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FOUR By Walter F. Prince. 19. The Declining Sick Doris. By the 16th of March, the bodily ansthesias of S. D. had greatly deepened. With the ebbing of her memory her manner changed, becoming more cold and abstracted. She was allowed to help about the house, but sewing of all kinds was denied her, since its tendency to bring on catalepsy was observed. But sewing was a part of her, and no measure more powerfully operated to push her toward the brink of extinction than this. By the 27th taste and smell were practically annihilated. From this time, tightly-clinched hands, profuse perspiration and a weak, slow pulse were sure indications during sleep of the presence of S. D. She would also curl up like a dormouse in sleep, so that M., following her, would cry out with pain, complain and sometimes write her threatening letters. Gradually it developed that for declining S. D. to remain any time sleeping was in a high degree injurious. By accident a formula was established (See Glossary, M.-Formula) which when acceded to acted as a kind of trigger to put her to sleep and immediately after to send her away, whereupon the clinched fists would open as though a spring had been released, and either R. D. or M. would come. But this formula grew increasingly repugnant to S. D. and it at length
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became necessary, S. M. and M. heartily approving, to employ stern measures in order to force her to accede. On March 31st, S. D. accompanied Mrs. P, and myself to a church in another part of the city. This was her last journey, so rapid was her declension after the change of environment, and the adoption of restrictive measures. 20. Margaret also Declining but more Slowly. On the 21st of March, M. declared that she could no longer voluntarily bring R. D., but must first sleep in order to hasten the coming of the latter. On the 24th it was recorded that she was beginning to have intervals of not being conscious of R. D.s thoughts when the latter was supraliminal and awake. That is, she was away and sleeping (See Glossary). This was new in reference to R. D., though M., had previously at times been in that subliminal condition when S. D. was on deck. A few days later M. began also to be in that condition at times when R. D. was asleep. 21. Alternations. On the 13th of March the record began to give data regarding alternations from which their number and approximately the supraliminal time of R. D. may be estimated. Later the moment of each alternation began to find a place, so that the daily total time of each per-

sonality may be determined, with the exception of S.R.D., whose case presented obvious difficulties, so that the time of her appearances is not deducted from that of R. D. For the last 17 days of March the alternations varied from 4 to 23 in a day, and R. D.s daily total time from 3 minutes to 17 hours and 10 minutes, while her average was 7 hours and 16 minutes, including, of course, the time that she was asleep. Usually the length of time that it was she who slept at night was in inverse ratio to the time that it was she who had the field the next day. The helpful stimuli, of a pleasurable or reposeful nature, which encouraged the maintenance of her synthesis and lengthened her total record for a day, and the injurious stimuli, involving strain and mental or physical discomfort, which caused transitions from the primary to a secondary personality, will be found in The Record in great variety. Alternations, particularly from a lower to a higher personality, were preceded by a movement of the head, varying from a slight oscillation to a decided jerk, depending upon the abruptness with which the change took place. As this snap was often noticed after a conversation-recital by S. R. D. and before the next one, it is assumed that in the meantime a transition to R. D. and back again took place. Toward the end of the case, after the M. complex had become attenuated, this mark attending the switching of personalities was less pronounced.
22. Appearance of S. D. b. and M.-asleep x., and Self-Revelation of Sleeping Margaret. On the 5th of April, there twice appeared a S. D. whose memories terminated with October of 1910, and who could not be persuaded of subsequent events, especially of the fact that she was living in the rectory, until she had made careful examination of her various properties in the house. It was not the S. D. of the previous day suddenly shorn of her later memories, for at an after hour the cold, incommunicative current S. D. returned, remembering much subsequent to Oct., 1910. Nor did what was denominated S. D. b. ever after appear. In the evening, also, there came the apparition of the M.-asleep of three months earlier, her memories and her odd notions and modes of speech of January returning and M-asleep x. likewise had to be convinced by examination of D.s possessions that she had left her old home. As though these dramatic episodes were not enough for one day, Sleeping Margaret concluded to step forth, and, first exciting my curiosity by saying Margaret is sleeping. both declared herself and gave herself a name in the words, I am Sleeping Margaret. Thereafter she occasionally talked to me, and from the 14th pretty regularly each day. M.-asleep curiously paid no heed to her voice, although she could generally understand what I said as easily as when she was awake. I now began more to observe and better to interpret the curious flittings of expression, alterations of voice, cutting in two of sentences by others of quite other locution and import, and other like phenomena indicative of double control, which cannot be set forth in this place. In
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the meantime for some days M.-asleep x. put in appearances alternated with the contemporaneous M.-asleep, and then disappeared. 23. The Battle with Sick Doris, and Her Retreat. About the first of April a paper was found on which S. D. had been putting down the expenses incurred in her behalf, as nearly as she could estimate them, intending to repay. Not long after, her dulling mind realizing that she was doomed, she wrote a note to M. bequeathing to her her possessions, and giving her instructions, which M. laughed at and disregarded. It grew harder to induce S. D. to submit to the only process by which she could speedily be banished to the subliminal region and prevented from indulging in disastrous sleep. S. M. and M. repeatedly urged that she be frightened, shaken, slapped,anything to send her away, reminding me that she was too ansthetic to be hurt. This was very true, and I felt compelled to follow the advice, but it was hard upon my own feelings. Some comfort was derived from the fact, which was likewise a marvel, that the instant S. D. disappeared in fright and anger, and with heaving chest, R. D. would flash out without a suspicion of the tussle that had been waged, calm and happy, and with breath as even as that of a sleeping babe. The memories of S. D. ebbed daily. On the 6th of April she had no recollection of the rooms in the old home or the way thither, by the 8th
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she seldom remembered anything of the previous day, two days later she did not know who I was and began to call me Mister. With the fading of memory she daily grew more childish and apathetic; her capacity for anger diminished, leaving in its place only an automatic obstinacy. She began to make pathetic appeals while being banished, saying I never did anything to you, Mister, and even to attempt touching cajolery, patting my cheek and declaring, We dont want to go home. We like this place. We like you, Mister. By the 20th she had only a few fixed ideas, all in relation to her old home, her housework there, and buying provisions for dinner. Constantly she believed that she had come to the rectory only the night before. Occasionally she made pitiful attempts to get out of the house. On the 21st she had forgotten how to read and even her own name. On the 13th she came out while D. was in church, and saw me in vestments, knew it was Dr. Prince but never dreamed that it was Mister the jailer. From this time she began to inquire when she could see Dr. Prince, and to threaten that she would tell him about me. This gave M. an idea which she recommended to me. In consequence I put on my vestments and entered the room in which S. D. was. A lengthy scene, perhaps the most dramatic and moving in the history of the curative period, followed. Trembling from head to foot with joy, she gave me both her hands, and proceeded to relate her troubles and to ask me to take her away. Almost whispering, she confided that she could not remember her name, and asked me to tell her what it was. She could not understand that she was ill, and knew nothing of R. D. or

Volume XNo. 7
M. Reluctantly she consented to do what was required, because Dr. Prince wanted her to, and was glad for him to put in use the dreaded formula before he left, instead of that man. For several days the spell worked, then Dr. Prince had to pay her another visit. By May 3rd, S. D. had forgotten about home and work. Only three ideas now prevailed, the desire to lie down, reluctance to submit to the banishing process, and the riddle of Dr. Princes whereabouts. She now never initiated any task, but if she came in the midst of one, automatically continued it. On the 6th S. M. announced that S. D.s will was gone, and that it would no longer do harm to let her stay and even to sleep. This proved to be the case, and the hardest task of the whole case ended. 24. Infant Sick Doris. May 6-10 was the transition entry to complete mental infancy so far as regards S. D. alone. During these few days all old ideas and memories utterly vanished, and a few ideas resulting from accidental incidents took their place. Neither the infantile notions, nor the infantile vocabulary, a number of words in which were of unique application, ever received any additions, but on the other hand, both diminished. On the 12th she possessed 11 substantives. On the 14th these had diminished to 4, and she then had 26 words altogether, out of which she constructed 36 baby utterances, the most of them of three words or less. These underwent no after change except the adoption of one of her
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phrases as a substantive on the 21 . Her habits as well as her utterances were now finally crystallized. At every appearance she went through her little round of amusements and the prattle connected with them, laughing with utmost glee, with no remaining trace of antagonism. But after a few minutes she wearied and automatically held up her wrists to be grasped according to the formula (the only part of it henceforth necessary), murmuring Go. And at once the irrepressible M. would bounce out, all life and spirits, and begin to ridicule that baby, that dont know nothing, if it chanced that she had been watching underneath. From the 6th of May it was observed that the visual angle of S. D. was narrowing, and directly afterwards her visual field began to shorten. By the middle of the month she could see but 14 inches away. Moreover, no other person than myself was recognized even as constituting a person. She understood the speech of no other, nor mine unless I was within her range of vision. My face withdrawn fifteen inches (finally) I was out of the world completely, and my voice won only the response, Noise! noise! as her eyes wandered about bewildered. She could not walk, stand or sit, and when raised from the couch her head fell with a snap and hung whichever way gravity carried it, while all movements of her hands were automatic. If her hand crossed her line of vision she asked waz zat? as she did when any other foreign object intruded. She no longer ate and could not swallow a crumb, but drank, signifying thirst by saying dry. Thus she con-
July, 1916 st

tinued until her end, the only essential alteration being that she came less and less frequently. 25. The Troubles of Margaret. M. sometimes had her feelings hurt, or some other accident affected her spirits so that she had a more or less pronounced tantrum. In these spells she was difficult to manage, though at a later period it was better learned how to deal with them, and they always injuriously affected R. D.s subsequent feelings and progress. She also had new burdens imposed upon her owing to the declension of S. D. Before the mothers death R. D. had always been the one to dress, and after it S. D. had attended to this matter. But now M. was the one to come first in the morning, and how the clothes went on and the work of putting them on were a puzzle and a nuisance to her. When she had got partly used to a mode of dressing R. D. might introduce a novel garment, and the complaints began afresh. Another perplexity was added when S. M. began to tell me what was in M.s mind, both to explain peculiar incidents and to put me on my guard. My mysterious knowledge puzzled her to her last day, and she would ask with knitted brows, Papo, can you see right into my mind? Once she perpetrated the bull of trying to watch herself to see if she talked in her sleep when unaware, nor was she so far from the truth, but S. M. reported, She listened, and she couldnt hear me at all. After meeting Dr. Hyslop she wrote him to see if he could explain the mystery. Also, a new shyness came to M. out of
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doors. She who had been so fearless now dared not venture beyond sight of the house, and the vigilance which had been necessary could now be relaxed. 26. Real Doris, and the Alternations. The number of alterations daily much increased in Aprils often amounting to more than 20 and once rising to 51. The average time of R. D. was but little enlarged, being 8h. 15m. But it was a mistake, as S. M. often assured me, to suppose that these particulars, by themselves, were true indices of the rate of progress. The rapid decline of S. D., a most desirable feature, was the very reason of the numerous transitions, since it caused mental and nervous fatigue by the increased burden that R. D. and M. had to bear. A period of marked decline in the case of a secondary personality was seldom or never one when the primary personality as such seemed to make much progress, and yet there would be a net gain. And it would usually be followed by a period when the secondary personality would seem to slacken its retreat while the primary one darted forward. It was as when first one and then the other end of a log is carried forward. Now and then in the three years to follow the log remained still for a few days, and only twice or thrice did it briefly slip back for a little. In the old days R. D., when subliminal, was so deeply submerged that the personalities could detect no sign of psychical activity on her part. But now her descent at times was but shallow, and occasionally

she dreamed underneath, even when the S. D. was awake. She also gradually released herself from any particular formula of coming. On Apr. 23rd, she came spontaneously alone in the night. Two days afterward she came while out walking. Soon other stimuli were beginning to cause her to emerge, especially anything that caused M. to be happy. On the 27th, for the first time, R. D. was the one to wake in the morning. By this time I had become accustomed to employ psychical treatment just after she fell asleep, having ascertained that she could hear me. In this manner fears, worries, and all kinds of mental obsessions were banished, and better states substituted, far more successfully than could be done when she was awake. I also began to suggest, after she had fallen asleep, that she should dream pleasant incidents with specified details, and this she usually did, relating the dreams the next day, with no suspicion of their origin. Her ability to hear me while sleeping, and consequently to be affected by these methods of suggestion, slowly slackened, and ceased with the completion of the cure. 27. Sleeping Margaret. From the time that she disclosed herself, S. M. was of the utmost assistance. She reflected on the past in order to tell me what she thought would be of use, observed the internal effects of experiments and reported thereon, gave me notice of M.s states of consciousness which needed such delicate handling, gave advice almost always
helpful, and made predictions regarding the turns in the case which were generally justified by the event. On May 23, I first knew of her going away, an act or state then entered upon only when M. was soundly asleep, but afterward also when R. D. was on deck awake or asleep. She made no explanatory statements at this time but afterward claimed actually to leave the body. She asserted that she could go away at any time, but that she never did unless she felt that D. would be absolutely safe while she was gone. As the case progressed toward reintegration, she went away more and more. Many observations of this state were made, establishing its reality of some nature. For example I would arrange for her to go away at a given cue, and observe R. D.s resulting uneasiness and hear her complaints of strange psychical sensations as of loneliness. Finally, after the departure of M., S. M. was generally away, except for a few minutes each evening. First on June 18, I was witness of another singular phenomenon, that of S. M.s jolting M. That is, when M. asleep was refractory S. M. would sometimes cause her to experience the hallucination of receiving a blow on the forehead. M. always thought that I was responsible, and would shrink from me in fright. Finally, as M. declined in energy, the effect upon her emotions became too grave, and S. M. discontinued the practice. S. M. stated that this method of correcting M. asleep was nothing new, but had been practised from a period long anterior to the death of the mother.
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It was S. M. who was the chief expounder of the remarkable scheme of intercognition briefly set forth earlier in this chapter. The longest statement, of intricate and technical character, was taken almost verbatim from her lips (see Proceedings, Am. S. P. R., Vol. XI, p. 599 seq.). M. also was acquainted with this and other psychic mechanics said to be involved in the case, but lacked language to make them clear. On the other hand M. first outlined the curious doctrine of the seats of the personalities in the brain to be found in Appendix B, but S. M. endorsed it, and the statements of both from time to time were in perfect accord. 28. The Vicissitudes of Margaret. Careful engineering was gradually ameliorating M.s disposition. Yet occasionally she continued to have what were known as tantrums. On June 2 she experienced one so serious that she began to tear her clothing and, unable to wreak vengeance on S. D., to threaten R. D. for the first time. Once she addressed infant S. D. mournfully, Gee! Its no use to scratch you. If I did scratch you all youd say is Waz zat? Following a tantrum no memory of it survived, unless of very hazy and distorted character, but renewal of a kindred emotion would somewhat revive recollection of it. Sometimes a fright (as from thunder) would put her into a state wherein she knew neither us nor her surroundings She was now watching much less while R. D. was both awake and asleep, and presently it got to be the rule that she was conscious of
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R. D.s thoughts and of outside happenings only when the latter was weary, worried, grieved, startled, etc., with the exception of the early morning. She watched at the close of the day, but this fell under the rule, as R. D. was then tired. She had almost lost the power to come out voluntarily. It was rather R. D. who went, from weariness, shock or strain. There were two seeming exceptions, wherein the mechanism was really automatic. If M. previously had determined to come at a given concurrence of circumstances, as when R. D. should stand before a given counter in a particular store, M. would come when that happened, after the analogy of post-hypnotic suggestion. Also, if anyone (except myself within certain limits), especially R. D., meddled with forbidden property of hers, she would come indignant and sometimes threatening. It took time before R. D. could be trained to refrain from doing this, as she hated to be bossed, but it was necessary that she should, for there was danger that M. would become inimical to her, in which case endless mischief might ensue. M. was subject to verbal and motor automatisms, which often went in pairs, so that stopping the movement of the hand, for instance, would stop the utterance also, even cutting a word in two. These developed, decayed and gave place to others until her own end. When asleep, the most fleeting touch of her hypersensitive fingers sufficed to tell her what my facial expression was, and elicited chuckles or cries of dismay to correspond. More extraordinary, if not

inexplicable, while asleep she had only to touch my lips with her fingers to know what I said, even though I only shaped the words rapidly, without conscious emission of the slightest breath. This power continued to her final exit, and she never showed consciousness while awake of having exercised it. There is no room here to describe the peculiar drama of her invention which she played with histrionic skill, when alone. At this stage her happiness would soon bring R. D., who would find herself arrayed theatrically and perhaps in some extraordinary position. At length M. could hardly get the scene set before R. D. would come, and concluded that it was not worth while to keep up the attempts, though she still objected to the removal from their accustomed places of the objects in the room which stood for persons or things in the play. The policy henceforth pursued was to keep M. asleep so much of her time as was possible, and to narrow the range of her activities and pleasures all that could be done and preserve her good-nature. 29. Physical States with Psychical Relations. At the time of her mothers death catamenia * was in progress. This ceased with the birth of S. D., and had never been resumed, though the times for the monthly periods had usually been accompanied with
*
much pain. Also, for five years she had had constant backache. Abdominal distension, and swelling of the thyroid gland were symptoms following fatigue and excitement, gradually lessening as the cure proceeded. At this stage, pressure across the chest, both with infant S. D. and M., produced entire psychical deafness. Constipation continued to be a trouble, and was both the cause and consequence of psychical disturbances. Corsets and tight waists were found to favor constipation and generally to interfere with healthful conditions, but continued to be worn with decreasing frequency until they were finally abjured to great advantage. On June 21, the girl was caused by suggestion (and the alleged help of S. M.) to sleep through a long and severe job of filling teeth. 30. Trip to the East, and the End of Sick Doris. The family started for Massachusetts on June 26. R. D. was in ecstasy during such parts of the trip as she was conscious of, while M. was timid and confused during her time out. Arrived at the home of my sister, Mrs. Freeman, in Marlboro, on the 28th, I wished her to see S. D. For some time she had come only when M. voluntarily let go. S. D. came and went through her little program for the last time, since M. was never able to bring her again. A few days later, at the regular period, catamenia, which had ceased with S. D.s advent, was resumed, as S. M. had predicted. After this, as a rule, pain was slight or absent.
Catamenia - the monthly discharge of blood from the uterus of nonpregnant women from puberty to menopause.
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31. Further Progress during the Visit. At first M. was like a colt let loose. The country interested her and she showed symptoms of revival. S. M. warned me that I must put the damper on. She was restrained from her exercise of exuberance with what tact could be summoned and in a few days was reduced to what she had been, seldom going out of doors in her personality after that. But one nights torment from a sudden influx of mosquitoes had driven us to our next visiting-place, Manchester, N. H. Here the most terrific heat of forty years almost blotted R. D. out for eight days, while an itching rash and the tumult of M.s awful homesickness, caused by the first two calamities, filled the cup of misfortunes. When M. was subliminal she watched continually so long as we remained in this place. On the 24th of July we returned to Marlboro, whence the mosquitoes had fled. M. had forgotten the short infliction of the mosquitoes, but the long sufferings in Manchester had fatally stamped that place with mental dissatisfaction. Homesickness instantly disappeared, the day of our journey to and arrival in Marlboro was the first when M. did not watch at all until evening, and R. D. rejoiced in a new feeling of freedom. The daily average of time won by the latter now mounted higher than ever before. By the last of the month it was found that amnesia had begun with M. She had forgotten her Manchester friends, and on the 8th of August a memorandum was discovered, written by M., of the names of these persons and of some particulars connected with our life in Pittsburgh,
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which she had collected from conversation to which she listened to aid her failing memory. She was beginning to become more childish in thoughts and pronunciation, especially in the state of sleep,for she still conversed while sleeping. Her sense of taste was dulling, her appetite and general interest in life decreasing. If anything occurred to prolong her supraliminal periods, she would get exceedingly bored, and make ludicrous complaints, such as, Come along, R. D.; your old tired thing wants you. This impatience at being long out at a time increased to her final departure. She herself realized the significance of all this, and shyly confided to me that she was beginning to go, and was feeling more like a baby. She even began to apply that term to herself. On the 16th of August we started for Pittsburgh, at an hour arranged by S. M., though neither R. D. nor M. saw any reason why one train should be preferred to another. R. D. remained out the whole 23 hours of the journey, a tour de force, accomplished mainly because M. resolutely remained subliminal, and paid for by a very short succeeding day. 32. Margarets Rapid Retreat. M.s memories continued their steady decline. Such as remained of Marlboro, Manchester, Boston and other places visited, soon amalgamated. She had met my mother, and the memory of her coalesced with that of my sister, so that she was accustomed to say Grand-

ma-Aunt Louise, believing this to be one person. She forgot my nameI was papo only. Still, it was noticed that if she was stimulated to attempt recalling, incidents and details would slowly emerge, and this remained in diminishing ratio to the close. In October, while R. D. was walking some squares distance from the rectory M. suddenly came out. She was in a locality formerly very familiar to her, but she did not recognize it, and continued walking in the same direction until she came to the river, and there stopped, never thinking of the possibility of turning in another direction, and was about to sit down and wait for her papo, when her very fright brought R. D. back. Such incidents happened perhaps a dozen times afterwards. By the 22nd it was noted that she had no remaining conception of time-duration. By this date also she seldom mentioned any event of the last eight months prior to the proximate four days. At the same time she was almost ceasing to watch by day or night, and consequently did not usually get her knowledge of R. D.s doings and thoughts by contemporaneous introspection as heretofore. But as M. came near the surface just before R. D. lapsed, she gleaned from the latters mind some of the happenings of the day. By Aug. 29, stroking, rubbing, pinching or pricking with a needle, was unperceived. Surface sensation was to be revived in a measure (at least seemingly), but the deeper sensations never. Taste and smell were almost annihilated, th latter to be partially recovered for a time, but not the former. M. was loath to acknowledge any of her declensions,
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except when she felt in a particular confidential mood, and might deny them an hour after the confession. Muscular ansthesia came on, and it became dangerous for her to go up or downstairs without being guarded. She stumbled and her feet clumped like wooden blocks. By Oct. 30 ansthesia seemed complete while awake. Earlier, in August, while sleeping she could feel on the lips, palms and backs of the hands, and, according to S. M., the nipples. But now, when sleeping she could feel only on the backs and especially the palms of the hands. But a new sensitiveness to temperature, on the other hand, was beginning to appear, not that of solid objects but of the atmosphere. The tendency to greater childishness continued. S. M. announced that it seemed to her that M. was beginning to retrace her life-journey, and this proved to be the case. Oct. 1 saw what might have been a fatal night. A physician had given R. D., in the course of the day, a soporific for some ailment involving pain. In the evening, while alone, M. chanced to find a pill heavily charged with opium, and thinking that a pill was meant to be taken, swallowed it. I returned to find her profoundly sleeping, her pupils much contracted, and S. M. hardly able to use the vocal organs. Aided by the advice of the latter, and by Mrs. P., I fought for the girls life, from the hour of 10 p. m., and not until 3 a. m. was she out of danger. A dread of pills was carefully implanted in M.s mind which remained a permanent safeguard, so far as this particular danger was concerned.

33. Margarets Purposed Dealings with Real Doris. On her return to Pittsburgh, R. D. made some attempts to study. But she could by no means reach the results of after days. Almost at once her thoughts would become confused, alien sentences would intrude, and she sometimes saw them in seemingly printed form, while now and again she heard or rather felt a chuckle which she recognized as coming from beneath. M. was opposing the study, for the good reason that it tended to bring her out, and demanded that such efforts be postponed. Not until several weeks of experiment, however, did R. D. abandon these efforts until a later stage. Now that S. D. was gone, M. had a little tendency, when irritated, to annoy R. D. as she had formerly done the defunct. Before we left Manchester, she once caused R. D. to hear her raucous voice while sleeping, with disquieting effects. On Sept. 7, I had a long night conflict to prevent her from waking and teasing R. D., and did not conquer until I had reluctantly taken S. M.s advice and spanked her on the hands. Physically, M. felt little or nothing, but she childishly murmured, You hurt me in my mind, papo. Again on Sept. 17, because R. D. persisted in going to Sunday School when M. was unwilling for her to go, she was tormented throughout by a boyish voice telling her to go home. Such sporadic outbursts became rarer with the lapse of time and at length ceased. But careful engineering was required at times to prevent the wrath of M. from being turned against R. D. with destructive results to her invaluable equanimity and hope- 52 -
fulness, and the information and advice rendered by S. M. were of the greatest aid. M. still, in general, resolutely insisted on her property rights, and if R. D. rashly laid hand on one of her dolls, opened the drawer in which the most of her knickknacks were kept, or tossed away some supposedly worthless article like an empty perfoonery bottle which M. valued, she would be stirred up and come out with protestations and even threats. M. several times at this period and later took a temporary dislike to Dr. Walker, on one occasion because she overheard him suggest the experiment of seeming to neglect her. At such times M.s repugnance affected R. D., not wholly automatically, because M. thought and thought with that end in view, so that R. D. also, she knew not why, for a time did not like her friends. When M.s hostility ceased, R. D.s feeling of distaste would at once vanish. 34. Real Doris and her Progress. The ceasing of watching on the part of M. was attested by interesting phenomena in the case of R. D., at least part of which were direct sequences. When M. first failed to watch the moment that R. D. came asleep for the night the latter would grasp my coat, ear or anything her hand came into contact with, and it was sometimes a task to get free. This continued until R. D. got used to the new condition. And

when M. left off watching at a later hour of the night, when R. D. was alone, the latter would be heard murmuring, Dont go ... I dont want you to go yet, being asleep, and with no waking memory of it. Also R. D. had many dreams of missing and losing things, and these gradually tended to take the form of losing a little girl to whom she had some sort of a relation. This latter sort of dream, which S. M. aptly termed symbolic, developed in complexity and point as M.s declension proceeded, and came to contain features of conflict with a little girl (who looked like me when I was little, R. D. would unsuspectingly report) and of getting the better of her. Such dreams, significant of a vague underlying consciousness that she was waging a victorious fight to rid herself of the incubus of a juvenile co-consciousness, continued to a late stage. Likewise dating with the cessation of M.s night-watching, R. D. suddenly became hypersthetic in hearing. Auditory sensation being now unshared by a consciousness subliminal to her own, night sounds became disagreeably loud and even a pianissimo passage in a concert rendition was almost painfully distinct. It was not until the close of 1911 that auditory hypersthesia subsided. There was also tactile hypersthesia for about a week, dating from Sept. 10, during which the contact of her clothing was a torture, the whole surface of the body as it were raw with sensation. In August, R. D. acquired a liking for candy, and for the first time began really to know what hunger is.
Like M., in September she became more sensitive to heat and cold, that is, probably, normal. She likewise began to perspire more freely than ever before. The reduction, month by month, in the number of alterations, and the fairly regular increase of R. D.s averages of time out, may be seen by a glance at Appendix A. 35. Comparisons and Tests in Hearing and Vision. Although M. had stopped watching, except for exceptional intervals, yet she was still a factor while subliminal, and certain abnormalities in R. D.s hearing and vision were probably due to that subliminal factor. We must remember that M. was hypersthetic in relation to both these senses, and also that she had a location or relation to the left side of the body, exemplified in a number of ways which cannot be set forth here. M.s ability to see in the dark was never shared by R. D., but her asymmetry in both sight and hearing was. On Oct. 26, it was ascertained that R. D. could read a certain print with the right eye alone at 21 inches, with the left eye alone at 60 inches, and with both eyes at 61 inches. Unfortunately no such exact test was made as to M., and it was difficult to induce her to submit to any test unless it could be made to appear a sort of a game, but it is certain that she could see much farther that R. D., and also farther with her left than her right eye.
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On Nov. 8, it was found that R. D. could hear the ticking of a certain watch with her right ear at about 12 inches, with the left fully 20 feet, an exceedingly abnormal distance. Three days later it was ascertained by a series of tests that M. could hear with her right ear 4 feet and 2 inches, and with her left 31 feet! During R. D.s period of auditory hyperesthesia she was accustomed to plug her ears at night with cotton, in order largely to shut out the troublesome noises. S. M. on Nov. 3 made the statement that M., and consequently she herself, could hear as well with as without the plugs. I lowered my voice until it was a whisper, and finally a whisper that Mrs. P. could not detect, and still S. M. answered me without difficulty. M.s hyperesthesia was so great that the wads made no essential differencehad she some superadded channel of audition, as the bones? As S. D.s had done, M.s visual angle began to narrow at some unknown date, and was much reduced by Oct. 30th. FIVE 36. Sleeping Margaret Yanks in Margaret. On Oct. 8th, while R. D. was in church, M. came out and was about to shout, according to her custom at home, O you papo! when S. M. made a great effort and sent her into the subliminal depths, forcing the
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return of R. D. When M. was next seen in the house, her eyes were bulging with excitement as she declared There is another S. D. There must be, for I was yanked in just as I used to yank in S. D. You cant fool this chicken; theres someone else. Again on Nov. 12th, in a similar emergency, S. M. pulled M. in, as the former termed it, but declared that it required so much expenditure of energy that she did not want to repeat the feat, and that I must keep R. D. away from the church until the danger was over. The drain of force on both occasions was shown by the subsequent fatigue of R. D. and by an increased number of alternations. 37. Sleeping Real Doris. The conversation-recitals had long gone by, but something else was going on which was not discovered until Oct. 13th, when observations were made late at night. Broken sentences in a faint, wondering voice were heard, This isnt my room . . . This isnt my room . . . My room had a carpet on the floor . . . That is my bureau . . . my bureau, etc. What came to be known as the soliloquies were reproductions of murmurs by R. D. in her brief, solitary emergences during the five years, and they went on every night, generally working backward in point of the original dates. About eight times in a night S. R. D. would stand upright in bed, carefully gather her skirts about her, turn around and lie down again.

38. Margaret Growing Mentally Younger, and other Losses. S. M.s announcement that M. was beginning to retrace the path of her development was evidenced increasingly as time went on. Her conceptions, sentence-constructions and pronunciations constantly became more childish. In Oct., 1911, she was saying scwatch, gweat , and a little later morr for mother, warr for water, etc. I have sleeped enough, and I am unhurted now, are samples of her expressions, while My golly but that was a pretty present, gee but I thought it was lovely is a fair sample from a letter written to Dr. Hyslop. She could often spell correctly after she had broken down in pronunciation. Afterward her spelling began to decay, but not to an equal extent. By December it was very difficult for M. to read aloud, and for some time her silent reading had been little more than a vestigial habit; her eyes followed the lines faithfully, but she gleaned few ideas from them. She could no longer tell time by the clock, and if she came in my absence could inform me of the time of the arrival only by pointing out what had been the position of the hands. She no longer noted whether it was day or night, unless she glanced out of the window and saw the bright sunlight. In January, 1912, R. D. fell while out of doors not far from the house, and M. came and recognized neither the house nor her whereabouts. A gentleman helped her up, and supposing that she was confused by the fall, which was heavy enough to bring blood, took her to
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the door of her home. When in the latter part of May the household goods were being packed preparatory to removal to California, she could not understand the bareness of the rooms and particularly of the book-shelves, although she knew that we were going away. Her property sense began to decline, so that R. D. could sometimes tell by her feelings that she was permitted to touch some hitherto forbidden article. Save for very rare exceptions, M. ceased entirely to watch toward the close of 1911. By the following April she had become ansthetic on the backs of her hands while asleep, and sensation in the palms, all that remained, was decreasing. She was now seldom conscious of, and seldom resisted, movements initiated by S. M. But M. was still shrewd in her way. Having mysteriously gotten hold of the words Sleeping Margaret, certainly by no normal process, she surmised that these formed the name of the personality who had yanked her in, and at various times tried to trap me into an admission. Her hollow cone of vision narrowed rapidly. By Jan. 1, 1912, she could see only a word or two at a time when she held a paper at the usual distance for reading, and to see the width of a 3 inch column it had to be held at the distance of about 28 inches. On Jan. 25th she had a terrible tantrum, and had been in its grip for several hours when I returned to the house at midnight. She was found

sitting in a pitiful state, not so much of anger as of sobbing despair, surrounded by hundreds of shreds which she had torn from her dress. In consequence R. D. lost a day, and M.s energies were revived for a few days. The latter resumed watching when subliminal, her vivacity and will-power were renewed, and she immediately became able to read fluently, while the consciousness of R. D. was proportionately clouded and perturbed. The effect passed off in about a week, however. Another tantrum on April 26 was perhaps the last of the more serious type. M. was subject to auto-suggestion. After becoming ansthetic she was afraid of falling down the stairs, the head of which she had to pass on the way to the bathroom. This fear suggested to her that the stairs called her, wanting her to fall down, and in running past them her course would swerve in their direction. On Jan. 14th, the call proved too strong, and she did fall and turned a complete somersault in her progress to the foot of the stairs, injuring her head and back, and of course risking the breaking of her neck. After this the stairway was kept barricaded, to her great relief. 39. Sleeping Real Doriss Decline and Disappearance. S. R. D. ceased to stand up in bed in November, 1911, but at the same time, as though the energy so used were diverted into the other channel, she soliloquized or, as S. M. called it, babbled, more than ever. But this in turn gradually decayed, so that instead of saying This
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isnt my room, she would say This isnt my and stop; and later would get only so far as This isnt, in a still more obscure voice. On the night of Nov. 22nd she was silent for the first time, and by the end of the year the soliloquies had ended forever. It was not until Jan. 10, 1912, that my suspicions that there was an inchoate separate psychical entity deserving the name of Sleeping Real Doris became crystallized into certainty. None of the group, or any living person, had heard a syllable of my cogitations regarding S. R. D. when, three days later, M. told me the story of her origin and even applied to her the name that I had fixed upon as appropriate. S. M. completed the story and fixed the date of the accident which, as M. said, made a little crack in R. D. Perhaps the reason M. made her reminiscent remark at this time was that, with the cessation of babbling, S. R. D. was beginning to show a decided tendency to react upon sensory stimuli. It seemed as if all her ebbing energies, formerly expended in conversation-recitals, soliloquies, etc., were now turned in this direction. She took on more individuality of facial expression, tone and manner in her brief manifestations. She learned to perform certain simple acts which became stereotyped, she even walked to the bathroom, but if she encountered anything which increased the number of steps she never found it, but returned to her couch. But I was the only being whom she in a manner recognized. If Mrs. Prince spoke and laid her hand on her she would flop over, grunt with loud discontent, and burrow deeply into the bedclothes. A word from me brought her forth with her twisted smile. She knew not Joseph, that is, Mrs. Prince. R. D. never, waking

or sleeping, would have shrunk from the dearly-loved mother. As a rule, the unnecessary stimulation of the reactions of S. R. D. were avoided, and these grew fainter. April 15th, 1912, S. R. D. made her last appearance. It was probably the exhilaration which R. D. felt from the prospect of going to California which blew out the last feeble flame of her complex. It could hardly have been an accident that the reception of the invitation to go exactly coincided with the disappearance of S. R. D. as a factor in the case. 40. Sleeping Margarets Increasing Latitude. Sleeping Margaret in the meantime was undergoing no ascertainable change in her own being, but, owing to the declension of the personalities, was acquiring latitude in the exercise of her functions. As stated, she had acquired ability to control the limbs during M.s sleep, because M.s profounder sleep and ansthesia made her unconscious of movements initiated by the former. Also, by November, she acquired limited power of movement, especially of the feet, while M. was awake. In consequence we were able to put into operation a code of signals whereby S. M. could render affirmative and negative answers to questions asked by me when M. was out and awake. If M. noticed the movements, she was amazed, and soon hilarious with excitement at the wonder, though not suspecting their cause or meaning.
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At this point S. M. would pause, as a precautionary measure. The physical control possible to S. M. increased to the end, and the system of conversing by signals was often useful for the obtaining of information. S. M. remarked that life was getting duller for her as M.s mind grew more inactive, there was so much less of interest to watch. In January, 1912, S. M. first spoke to R. D. herself in her sleep, waking her so that she might pull up the covers which had fallen to the floor. 41. Real Doris in the Meantime. S. M. often remarked that R. D.s individual improvement was like a see-saw. She has a period when her body advances and then the mind has to catch up, then the mind gets in advance and the body has to catch up. All the while R. D. was developing in independence, will and ability to sustain the minor shocks of life without letting go the grasp of her own synthesis. Confusion of mind decreased at the same pace that measured M.s cessation of subliminal watching. Dreams containing unrecognized features derived from M.s thoughts and acts became more frequent, also dreams symbolizing her triumphant conflict with the M. complex without knowledge on her part of their significance. She even dreamed that the little girl was getting to be a baby

both in mind and body. Resumption of visits by her friend Ella had a stimulating influence. After many attempts and approaches R. D. succeeded on Jan. 2, 1912, in maintaining herself in the morning without a M. interval. For the first time the record notes but two alternations from evening to evening. The experience was repeated thereafter with irregularly increasing frequency, and the number of daily alternations became two, four and six, with occasional relapses to a larger number. By the end of the year R. D.s auditory hyperesthesia was much reduced, so as to be no longer painful. Tests of Jan. 1, 1912, showed, curiously, that she could now hear the ticking of a watch with the right ear alone farther than before, 5 feet and 5 inches, but with the left ear not nearly so far, 13 feet and 6 inches, so that the asymmetry was much reduced. She was harassed by a mysterious headache for, 38 days ending Feb. 25. It was discovered that the headache began directly after, from association of ideas on seeing a funeral procession, she had inwardly resolved to take frequent walks to her mothers grave. The headache was in the left cerebral lobe, like that which had attacked her at the deathbed of her mother. Upon her being persuaded to forego the resolution the headache at once disappeared. On the journey to California, June 1-5, R. D. and M. reversed their emotional roles, as compared with the journey of the year before. M.
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was then timid, R. D. not. But now R. D., for the first time compelled to sleep on a train, was oppressed to tears by fear, while M. when out was without trepidation. S. M. explained that now M. could not reason and believed my assurances absolutely, while R. D. knew that I could not prevent an accident. 42. Margaret becomes Mentally less than Six Years old, and Reaches Blindness. With the exception of one month, to be noted in a separate section, M.s retreat continued throughout this period of a year and four months. Her recession to earlier mental childhood was manifest. By September, 1912, such expressions as Ive been bitteded by a bug, were frequent, and such pronunciations as hankchet for handkerchief, breket for breakfast, and leamun for liniment, appeared. In November a German accent began to emerge, vot for what, vell for well, and a curious pronunciation of dog like doch, with the true German guttural sound. This had peculiar interest from the fact that in her sixth year the girl picked up some traces of accent from frequenting, out of her love of horses, a nearby stable where German hostlers were employed. She had not previously acquired it from her father since she fled from his approach, and she laid it aside soon after entering school in her seventh year. The next July she had begun to say appel, reminiscent of the German apfel, and in August I once heard her utter the Teutonic expression, Did you make the light out?

She developed three styles of speaking as her memories faded. (a) That which has been described, a reproduction of her manner in early childhood. This she employed when speaking in her own character. (b) When she repeated R. D.s speeches or thoughts. Her pronunciation, locution, and to a certain extent tone and manner, were now those of R. D. herself. She was now quoting from R. D. (c) When she told old stories that she had been accustomed to tell before her decadence. Her pronunciation, etc., were now quite in her old manner. She was quoting from her former self. These distinctions of speech absolutely conformed to rule. Even the memories of early years were now departing. In September it was found that the name Fischer was foreign to her, the next month she remembered neither her father nor her beloved mother, nor Ella, nor scarcely a person or thing connected with her former life. And yet any verbal cue might operate the machinery of association so as to set her glibly relating an old tale. But it was all automatic; if she named Ella, for example, she would stop and wonderingly inquire Whats Ella? or if she mentioned a teacher would pause and ejaculate Whats teacher? If stimulated to grope for the recovery of forgotten facts they would slowly come back one by one. Catching sight of a diagram of the interior of her old home she recognized it, and when asked who lived there named, after some cogitation, a nephew, then added in a puzzled way , and there was someone elsesomeone who hit us. Papo, who was it that hit us? And where was you, papo?you werent there. Also from glimpses into R. D.s thoughts her memories
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were sometimes revived, but only for the day. Any verbal combination newly acquired she could repeat only with excessive slowness, each word recalling the next separatelyshe could not grasp a line of poetry as a whole. The general dulling of her comprehension of course kept pace with the loss of her memories. She still came out upon the street occasionally for a minute or so, and always stopped stock-still, as though absorbed in thought, not knowing where she was. She began to get lost in the bathroom, not remembering how to turn the key, and there were some distressing episodes until I removed the key. If she happened to be sitting on her foot and was asked where it was, she became bewildered and then frightened, exclaiming in poignant tones, My foots los! By July, 1912, she could not locate any feature or portion of her head which had no active function, that is, she could her mouth, nose or eyes, but not her chin, forehead or cheek. By October the distinction between night and day was utterly gone, and she could not inform me when she had come in my absence even by pointing out the position of the clock-hands. In November S. M. declared that M. no longer had any active thoughts. Mental exertion tired her more and more. In January, 1913, it was found that her thought tempo was too slow to keep pace with the relation of a story by another. She would listen to reading for a minute or two as if fascinated, but the strain of attention quickly wearied her, so that she would clamor for the reading to stop. By the last of March she did her last singing of childhood ditties, and urging her to sing threatened to make her cry. A little later she could

not endure to listen to singing. Retaining hold of a fan and at the same time moving it in the usual way was now a too complicated task for her ability. In August she appealed to have R. D. put on her nightgown and kimono before she went in the evening. I cant find where my head and hands go in, she piteously complained, I hunt and hunt and it tires me, and I tear my nightdress and I bump into things. I mos failed tonight, papo. I am getting too far gone. M.s general interest in life diminished in proportion. Her ansthesia and failing vision were isolating her from the present world, and her amnesia from the past. Nearly all her time was now spent in two rooms, and by far the greater part of it in sleeping. On September, 1912, she threw her money across the room and she, who formerly took so much interest in her small funds, never cared for money any more. In October, R. D. could handle the dolls and even-give them to small callers to play with, and evoke no protest. M.s liking for food degenerated into a mere ceremonial, in which the memory of how things used to taste and the hearing of the crunching furnished the only pleasure. By the summer of 1913 all desire for candy died out. Reading, in August, 1912, still consisted of merely following words with her eye, and if interrupted she complained that she had lost her word and would start the column again. She was no longer reading what I had previously read but exclusively that which had previously been perused by R. D. In January, 1913, she ceased even to follow
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words with her eye, and would only look blankly at the printed pages, or look at pictures. In February it was found that she could spell only the shortest and most familiar words. She could write long after she had ceased to read, and sent a number of notes to Drs. Walker, Hyslop and Brashear, and to Aunt Louise, the chirography becoming more Hancockian with her failing vision. But on Dec. 16, 1912, she wrote her last letters, falling over asleep immediately from exhaustion. Once more she thought she was writing, the following March, but she produced only an unmeaning scrawl. She was still able to dictate letters, but these in turn became a tremendous task, causing her to perspire and fall over asleep in the midst of the dictation, so this in turn ceased. By May, 1913, even pictures meant nothing to her unless they contained the figure of a small child, when she would point it out and cry, See the pretty baby! But by August she no longer recognized a depicted baby and pictures, as S. M. remarked, were only a blur to her. At the middle of July, 1913, sensation had gone from even the palms of her hands while sleeping. She was now practically without sensation on skin, in flesh, or of muscular movement. Yet soon after she began to acquire consciousness of touches upon the skin, though, absurd as the statement may seem to many, it is doubtful if the old cutaneous sensation was really revived. She seemed to become aware without sensation, as by a sixth sense. Still, some hemilateral difference existed, and by August 7th she had become again and finally oblivious to touches on the left side. A finger drawn across the finger or chin without her visual angle and from left to right would be de-

tected the moment it crossed the median line. The right side was later to follow suit. M.s vision, which had narrowed as we have seen, began also to shorten. The first of July, 1912, she could see perhaps 12 feet, but not more than 6 by the middle of the month. For a while she was bothered about getting around the house and would bump herself severely. Her visual field had shortened by Aug. 7th to 5 feet and 6 inches, and by Sept. 20th it had taken the big drop to 19 inches. Certain experiments, with dramatic and startling results showed the genuineness of the condition, which soon needed no artificial demonstration. It took some months more to reduce the depth of the visual field to its ultimate 14 inches. Suddenly, on Oct. 4, 1913, she became blind, and so remained to the end. That is, R. D. with visual powers unimpaired would drop out of sight, and the same instant M. would come seeing nothing. As with other changes, this did not trouble her spirits, more than John Robinson is troubled because he cannot fly. It is not a mans nature to fly, and M.s nature had altered,that is the only reason, in fact, that she could not see, since there was no physical defect. It was psychical blindness. The only thing that annoyed her was the renewal of bumping into things, but she soon knew her few customary routes through the house, and also could accomplish safely any path through the room that R. D. had taken shortly before lapsing. Otherwise she had to feel her way along or meet accidents.
And yet M. was able to get certain information which normally would depend upon sight. When her vision first began to shorten I could for a few days make faces at her beyond her visual field, a thing which she would hysterically have resented, with impunity. But there quickly developed some mysterious compensating power by which she could infallibly detect my expression. After arrival at the point that her hand had to be directed to the knife and fork lying near her plate, she yet would jubilate at my smile or complain of my frown when I was five or more feet away. And yet I might experimentally make a derisive gesture, providing my features did not express derision, and she would not suspect it. She could tell that I had done something with my hand, but that was all. Nor was her ability to detect my expression less after she became blind. She herself said that she felt and once that she smelled it. These seemed to be attempts to express something which seemed to her sensory in its nature and which she could not explain. Was there a mysterious seeing under her blindness which announced its judgments only to her consciousness? Then why did it discriminate between one object and another? Or were my changes in expression accompanied by subtle variations of breathing which her marvelous auditory hyperesthesia could detect and interpret? There is this much in support of the latter hypothesis, that she was aware, for example, of a spoon approaching her lips, though it was brought up slowly and cautiously, and correctly estimated many other moving objects, while she never detected the presence of immobile objects not in their accus-
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tomed places. But the determination of facial expression when there was no conscious emission of breath seems a widely-separated feat. In June, 1912, M.s power to come after the fashion of post-hypnotic suggestion was ceasing. She could no longer direct me to get an ice-cream and then, R. D. having intervened, come back to eat it. By December, 1912 tantrums were nearly over, and M. had become almost uniformly amiable and tractable. But still sometimes a flash would come from the old embers, in form at least of a short spell of sullenness. Tact and care were still needed in the way of guarding her from irritation. These had their due reward. By September, 1913, she had become anxious to do whatever R. D. desired she should do. If R. D. wished that Phase A would not throw things about the floor, M. would at once begin to be religiously careful, declaring with all earnestness, Margaret dont want to make the R. D. trouble. Margaret dont want the R. D. to think the Margarets sloppy. But it must be a spontaneous wish on the part of R. D., one suggested to her by another as suitable for her to put in operation would not do. Since S. D. had left a testamentary document, M. thought it proper that she should make her will also. After several experimental drafts, she at last wrote it out in gigantic characters, leaving grave and reverend doctors as well as the mother and papo, her dolls, child books and odd little knickknacks. Several codicils were added, but these were dictated when M. was past writing. After her decease my duties as
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administrator of the estate were faithfully carried out. According to the provisions of the will, a number of articles are being preserved for presentation to another Margaret, if I ever should find a person with one. 43. The Changes in Margarets Process of Seeing Real Doriss Thoughts. Until the beginning of her decadence, M. usually watched while R. D. was out, and so contemporaneously possessed herself of what was in the mind of the latter. After she ceased to watch except for a little time before R. D. went at the close of the day or at other times, it was then that she had to glean all that she was to know by direct inspection. When she ceased utterly to watch, it appeared that R. D. had reached the point that she went down more slowly, and for a short time, after becoming subliminal would, as it were, linger near the surface, while a review of the day passed panorama-like through her consciousness. It was during these few minutes that M. obtained a certain outline of the events and thoughts of the day. It was not necessarily the most important events which M. became thus possessed of, but those which had most vividly impressed R. D. Nor were these materials being appropriated by M., as formerly, through her own initiative, so much as being pushed up into her consciousness by the more abounding energy of R. D. As time went on, R. D. went down still more slowly and never so far, her subliminal consciousness became yet more vigorous,

as it were shaving the consciousness of M. thinner, and the period through which the latter received thoughts and imagery lengthened. From the end of 1913 M. was liable to catch sight of something passing in review below, any time during own supraliminal period. But, since her mentality became dimmer, she gleaned less and less as her end approached. 44. A Serious Set-back. Many times had the train of progress been brought to a temporary standstill, or, as M. termed it, side-swiped. Only twice had there been what S. M. called a set-back, or retrogression, of noticeable magnitude. Once was when we had reached Manchester, and M., delighted with country sights, for about two days showed reviving symptoms. The second time was when M. had a bad tantrum and crying-spell and then the effects were somewhat in evidence for a week. But on June 6th, 1913, R. D. received a very severe fright through a misapprehension. At once S. M. announced that a positive set-back had been incurred. M.s energies suddenly revived in a measure, her vivacity and will flared up again. But she did not get mentally older, her thoughts and locution remained as juvenile as heretofore. On the other hand, R. D.s consciousness became confused by the renewed subliminal activity, and all progress stopped. The effects lasted about five weeks. The emphasis which this incident puts upon the necessity of guarding the environment in psychopathic cases
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warrants its being given a separate section. Had the shock been greater it might have undone much that had been accomplished. 45. Sleeping Margaret During this Period. S. M.s first attempt to write was on Aug. 12th, 1912. Earlier it was impossible because M. asleep would instantly have taken possession of the pencil for her own purposes. Even now, M. butted in every few words by writing her own name, then S. M. would regain control and go on. But a little later the ansthesia of M. became so profound that S. M. was able to write her first letter, a short note to Dr. Brashear. Sept. 24th, S. M. made her first announcement that she was beginning to forget many details of D.s past life, and it was found that she could no longer relate with undeviating ease the minutiae of the earlier psychical mechanics. She continued to explain this by saying that the cure was so far advanced that she was not so much needed as a guardian, had ceased to review the past because so little could now be derived therefrom to assist in practical therapeutics, and was now turning her attention to her own affairs, whatever they were. No other change in her psychical makeup ever afterward took place, but this alone made a considerable seeming difference. Nor did she ever forget the major part of D.s past life. On Nov. 4th she staid away after R. D. had come, for the first time, and I noted a troubled, woe-begone look on the face of the latter.

th
In response to a prearranged signal she went away, Nov. 20 , while R. D. was out, and I observed a shade pass over R. D.s face, and signs of uneasiness. I asked what the trouble was, and she replied, I feel so queer, as though some support were taken away from me. At after times, quite ignorant of the cause, she would say that she felt lonely, and as though something were missing. On the evening of Feb. 1, 1913, S. M. became offended with me, and went away for several days. M. was conscious of the change of her feelings, and ascribed it to the unknown personality whose existence and even whose name she had come to suspect, though never quite sure, since she could get no assurance from me. She went away mad M. would cry, I can tell by the way I feel. She is a dibble. R. D. was put into a singular state by the protracted stay, was emotionally disturbed, felt lost and forsaken, and had several hallucinations, of the ground shaking beneath her, strange vegetation springing up around her, and horrible living creatures near. M. knew by her feelings when S. M. returned, and announced delightedly, The dibble has come back. R. D. also reported that she had recovered her normal frame of mind. As S. M. continued to go away more frequently and for longer periods, both the others got gradually used to it, though it was not until after M.s departure that R. D. was quite proof against disturbance on that account. I at first assumed that the so-called going away was the automatic effect of the net improvement in the case, and that it would be found to occur only when R. D. was in her best physical and emotional state. But S. M. insisted that it was purely voluntary, though adding that she would
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naturally not select times when she might be needed. And she certainly did seem to demonstrate her power to do whatever it was on signal known only to her. Some profound change took place as evidenced in the personality out. And later S. M. was often present when R. D. was at her best, and sometimes absent when R. D. was worried or suffering from some minor ailment. If I asked S. M. why she was so remiss as to be away when R. D. was ill she would respond, She was in no danger, and you were looking out for her. I know how she is getting along, and would return at once if needed. 46. Real Doriss Individual Progress. Of course R. D.s individual progress was keeping pace with M.s declension. Bridging the morning chasm, she often was staying in control for 22 or even more than 24 hours at a stretch. By Aug., 1912, she was eagerly looking forward to maintaining herself throughout the evening and night. M. remarked that this was not yet possible, but it is a good sing for her to fink about it. M. was declining so fast in September and the remainder of the year that the additional psychical burden imposed upon R. D. made her many times during a day forgets what she had been intending to do. Psychical treatment, especially just after she had fallen asleep, was continued. Remembering the misery of former New Year nights, I told her, as she slept on the evening of Dec. 31st, that she would not be troubled or wakened by whistles. She was not, but a revolver-shot at

length roused her,this had not been named in the bond. Jan. 14, 1913, she herself discovered the psychical origin of a troublesome cutaneous itching and burning, and it quickly died out. In April the long-interrupted church-going was resumed, morning service only, to her great satisfaction, and without resulting harm. She was eager to co-operate in measures for her recovery, and sometimes tried not to think of matters that she feared might disturb Phase A. But M., coming, would suddenly break out into convulsive laughter and cry, if she hadnt thunk that she wouldnt think about it I mightnt have known anything about it. On the evening preceding July 4th I told R. D. asleep that she would only faintly hear sounds on the street until the morning of July 5th, but that she would hear sounds in the house the same as usual. It so turned out, and she wonderingly remarked how quiet a Fourth it was, though cannon-crackers were frequently bursting outside. On the 10th, S. M. reported that R. D. was getting better by leaps and bounds. In August her spirits were more exuberant than I had ever known them to be, this emotional exaltation synchronizing with M.s entire loss of feeling on the left side. On the 12th she remarked that the confusion of mind has entirely disappeared, that she felt freer than ever before in her remembrance; and yet from time to time thereafter she continued to report that she was feeling still more free and happy, though at times her psychical spurts in advance of the physical improvement would cause peculiar weariness at the close of the day.
The shifting relations of R. D. and M. and their reciprocal effects, throughout the case, were of fascinating interest. When M. first began to desist from watching, R. D. would be more weary when M. did not watch than when she did. But later, when the primary personality had become stronger and more accustomed to the change, it wearied her to have the secondary one watch. When afterward R. D. began to bridge the morning gap, she was the more tired on the day following, but the time came when the days that she felt more strain were those on which M. did come in the morning. And even as M.s subliminal activities, before she ceased to watch, confused the consciousness of R. D. supraliminal, so afterward, as R. D.s subliminal descent became less and less deep, that is to say, as she became more psychically active in a subliminal state, it was M.s turn to have a clouded consciousness. As M. herself well expressed it, I used to thinkin all the time when she was here. Then thered be two of us thinkin together, and that made her mind cloudy. But now Im not thinkin when shes here, and her minds clear. But now shes thinkin down beneath when Im here, and I dont think so well. Shes squeezin me out. 47. From Margarets Blindness to her Death. As already stated, M. remained blind until the close of her career. But about Nov. 30th, 1913, a phenomenon related to the eyes began, which curiously illustrated the physical effects of a relaxation of psychical control. So long as R. D. was on deck, she could read or sew in a
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bright light with perfect impunity. But within a minute after M. came, exactly the same location in respect to an artificial light would cause her eyes to sting and to water, and soon two slender streams of water would be flowing down her cheeks. She did not know what the matter was, but placing a screen between her and the light relieved the difficulty, and this precaution was henceforth taken. Any oversight was attended by the same result the more as the months went on. A doctor was called in, Dec. 20th, to see D.s eyes, which were badly inflamed, and he diagnosed the difficulty as due to eye-strain. R. D. had done nothing to strain her eyes, and increased care in regard to M. soon, brought relief. By January M. was sometimes blundering and injuring herself while pursuing a familiar route through the rooms, but this was due to failing mental alertness. In the meantime her ability to detect my facial expressions remained intact, and continued to do so. Sometimes I would make up a face, and instantly she would cry, Dont make snoots at your Margaret when your Margaret cant see. On Oct. 8th, 1913, it was noted that the right side had become like the left,touches were entirely unperceived. Thermsthesia continued, but after Jan. 1, 1914, she was unable to say whether she was too hot or too cold. This again, however, was not due to confounding the sensations, but to confounding the senses of the two words, as she could tell whether it was the feeling of being too near the stove or not. Coit (cold) was her general term for temperature sensation, and sometimes she would say M. is wearm-coit (which is as near as her pronunciation can be represented), not coit-coit. But though sensitive
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to atmospheric temperature, she several times quite severely burned herself on the stove without appearing to notice it. The blotting out of memories and failure of general comprehension of course went on together. By Nov. 1, 1913, M. was beginning to confuse meum and tuum. She would often say, impressively, Papos eyes hurt, or Papos been cryin, after such experiences of her own. On Dec. 29th, she came as R. D. was alone in the kitchen, cooking tomatoes on the stove. She remained standing, while the tomatoes burned completely up and smoke filled the house. She now failed to recognize names of common objects save those in our own daily experience. Though she might automatically repeat them in telling a story recalled by some cue, as if it were pulled out by a string, she would often pause and inquire Whats cat?or whatever it might be. At this stage an experiment in stimulating her to try and recall forgotten things would bring some results but also produced a severe pain, extending from the left temple to the base of the brain. One of the proofs that the mental regression was not merely to a technical childhood but that it had a historical relation was her beginning to employ the German accent which she had originally picked up in her sixth year and retained not many months. And now, in January, 1914, the German accent was laid aside, though her general locution was still more juvenile. She had passed through the German-accent stratum of her past, emerged on the other side, and was now mentally about five years old. After R. D. succeeded in maintaining herself at night, Jan. 30th, M. would come more wobbly and uncertain in her movements, and more

lethargic in her mind. By March M., coming in the evening for seldom more than half an hour, would look at me, sleepily smiling, say Huo (Hello) papo! over and over, perhaps quote a little from R. D.s thoughts below, chuckle and gurgle happily, and go to sleep. March 19th, she did not recognize what a pencil or coin put into her hands was. She was at this time unable to get any thoughts from R. D. except when the latter desired that she should do some simple thing, like laying an article where she (R. D.) could find it. She had become good nature personified. She never ate anything save an apple or orange, and generally finished that while asleep. On April 19th, M. came at 8.50 p. m. She was amiable and rather lethargic, saying Its Margaret and a few other simple sentences, and laughing gently before falling asleep. So reads the last brief record of M.s life. This once occasionally impish, but otherwise winsome and fascinating sprite, whose spirits were rainbow-tinted, had passed away forever as an alternating personality. S. M.s prediction that when M. went she would make no sporadic returns was fulfilled. SIX 48. Sleeping Margaret. S. M. claimed and gave evidence that her visual field did not progressively narrow and shorten at an equal pace with that of M. She could detect objects outside of the visual angle of M., but did not have
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normal breadth of vision; and she could see farther than M. but not to a normal distance. Even after M. became blind, S. M. could see at least eight feet in front. But it should be remembered that S. M.s seeing was not direct, but only of objects as depicted in M.s mind. As M. was not conscious of seeing them, the picture must have been in some subconscious region. This is analogous with the discovery by Dr. Sidis and others that, for example, in cases of psychopathic ansthesia there is subconscious recognition of pricking which the subject does not perceive in the tipper consciousness. But why did not S. M. see the remoter objects? Perhaps because these, which made fainter impressions upon the retina, were registered too deeply in M.s subconsciousness for even S. M. to discern them.* We have seen that S. M. gained power, because of M.s weakened psychical control, to move the limbs when the latter was awake. But at first this was the case only when M. did not oppose the movement. By Feb. 22nd, 1914, S. M. could move at least the feet against M.s will. On Feb. 26th, S. M. began to talk when R. D. was out and asleep. She either had not previously supposed that she could do this or had feared that it would disturb R. D., for we had arranged a code of signals to be employed after M. departed. Her first essays did indeed cause some uneasiness to the sleeping R. D., but this soon passed away, and
* Since this was written S. M. has declared that she did have the power of direct vision come as M.s vision declined, and that it became optional whether she should exercise it or look at what lay in M.s mind, as formerly she had solely done.

conversing with me under these new conditions became a part of the evening program thereafter. On April 10th, S. M. was inclined to think that M. had already departed, and announced that she herself was going away for a week. She had been for some time claiming that she was some species of a spirit and had come at the time of the first shock to be a guard for D. She declared that her earlier inconsistent statements had been made because at that time she had thought it no business of mine what she was. No amount of incredulity on my part and attempts to shift her position by suggestion ever had the slightest effect. From the time that she first asserted that she came from the other side never did S. M. waver in her calm assurance. Latterly she had several times alleged that somewhere near the time of M.s departure proof of an occult nature would be given as to her own nature. After her return from the weeks absence, on Apr. 16th, she intimated that she had been away to make preparations for proof. During the week R. D. often had the feeling that she had lost something or as though something were lacking, her dreams of losing things were renewed, and she was more nervous when in gatherings of people. 49. Real Doris. The very day that M. became blind R. D., ignorant of that fact, reported with surprise that she could see more clearly and farther than ever before in her life.
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By October, 1913, R. D. often found herself going directly to the spot where M. had left some needed article, without conscious knowledge that it was there. From time to time she reported that her mind was getting still freer. But on Jan. 12, 1914, she became grieved and wept much, and in consequence there was some renewal of confusion for several days. After a number of resolves and futile attempts R. D. first succeeded in maintaining herself through a day and succeeding night without an evening M. interval, She was out 41h. 15m. After two repetitions of this feat, another advance upon the enemy was made, by staying from the evening of Feb. 22nd to that of the 25th, a period of 70h. 50m. Mar. 4-8 her record increased to 96h. 10m. She was still failing to bridge the evening gap in a majority of cases when, beginning with 11 p.m. of Apr. 8th, she accomplished the mighty achievement of 8 days lacking 55m. On April 19th, owing to M.s departure, R. D., after 22 years of exchanging personalities, again stood on the firm ground of mental integrity, and since then has had not one moments interruption of a clear and continuous consciousness.

50. Real Doris with Unbroken Consciousnessyet with Sleeping Margaret Still in Evidence. For a time after M. had ceased to make any supraliminal appearance, there continued to be vague indications that she still existed subliminally as a co-consciousness. A few times after her departure R. D. on falling asleep put up her hand and felt of my face, a thing which she had never done before. This was the customary method of M. asleep for finding out whether I was in good humor. Sometimes too when R. D. was awake, especially when she was nervous or excited, there would come a facial expression, or a laugh, strongly reminiscent of M. But these manifestations faded out within a few months. S. M. claimed to be continuing preparation. By May 1st it had come to be the general rule that she was here only about an hour in the evening, including the five minutes or so when I talked with her just after R. D. fell asleep. The comings and goings still did not present the appearance of being automatically subject to R. D.s condition. To be sure, any period which was comparatively one of emergency was apt to find her present, but this was consistent with the asserted free volition, for at such times her alleged function as guard would incline her to be on hand. Until R. D. got used to S. M.s general absence she would often find herself starting to seek something which she felt as though she had mislaid. This phenomenon, as well as that of the psychical sensation of there being something missing within herself,
caused her some wonder, but did not interfere with her excellent spirits. As May 13th approached, when I was to attend a two-days convention in Los Angeles, R. D. suggested that I stay over night. Had there been any subliminal M.-consciousness of what was intended, surely some bubbling up of emotional disturbance would have been detected, but there was none, and my absence caused no difficulty whatever. It was the first time that I had been gone for a night in more than three years. Three ladies separately remarked, in the course of the month, how differently R. D. was getting to look. One of them said, Your face is changing. On the night of Aug. 25th, R. D. was awakened by a voice calling Doris!, and found that the covers had fallen off. She had been addressed by another name exclusively for nearly two years, but S. M. still used the former one in talking with me. Again R. D. was awakened by hearing Doris! Doris, wake up! on the morning of Oct. 24th, when it was time to get ready for a journey. She started alone for New York on Oct. 24th, and was gone for three months during which experiments described in Vol. XI of the Proceedings were in progress. Frequently homesick, she nevertheless stood the long absence well, without detriment to her health. On Nov. 1st, S. M. committed a blunder. She wrote a note to Dr. Hyslop, and R. D. woke and found it. Naturally supposing that there
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was another personality like Margaret, that all sorts of strange things might be happening, and that she had been beguiled into false belief that she was well, she wrote me a letter of despair. There was nothing to do but to tell her the exact facts, and to assure her that whatever S. M. might be, there was no discernible harmful effect from her presence. Fortunately she was satisfied and comforted by the explanation, and when toward the close of her visit S. M. vocally gave her counsel, she was not startled. S. M. was seldom away during the stay in New York, but shortly after the return in January, 1915, she resumed her former course, and now R. D. ceased to be conscious of any difference in feelings consequent upon her departures. R. D. was very hard to waken in the morning at this time, yet was very desirous of rising at a particular hour. About March 10th, S. M. began regularly to call her at the desired hour. In about a couple of weeks R. D. began to waken spontaneously and the calls ceased. By May S. M. generally limited her presence to about 8 to 15 minutes in the evening. On June 15th S. M. spoke to R. D. when the latter was awake, to warn her of an impending accident, and on another occasion R. D. feeling the need of certain information, addressed questions to her and received replies, of course by means of her own vocal organs. Again at a time when I was away, S. M. spoke to R. D., asking that a given message be sent to me. And so matters stand today, in reference to S. M. She still comes for a few minutes every evening, unless it is otherwise arranged, and
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seldom otherwise. She remains constant in her affirmations respecting her own nature and respecting the missing proof. She will continue to come, is her declaration, until the evidence is given, and then will permanently depart, unless particular reasons should induce her to make a future call. But she adds, I am willing to go now, if you wish it. Why should I wish it? Part of the subliminal self or not, she does no harm, and at least formerly she was a decided benefactor. Let matters take their course. R. D. has continued to improve in physical health and mental tone. The physiologist would pronounce her bodily condition excellent, and the psychologist uninformed about S. M. would observe no indications of mental abnormality. It could occur to neither that less than five years ago she was the subject of a condition strange and deplorable in the extreme, the climax of nineteen years of psychical dissociation. ; Conclusion. The summary of Dr. Prince prepares the way for general conclusions and an account of the further and experimental investigation of the case. Before dealing with the latter aspect of it I follow the account of Dr. Prince with some important general observations that connect the case with others of a like kind and at the same time that also link it with cases that have shown, under the proper method of investigation, the existence of the supernormal, not at first suspected, and of invasion by foreign influences. This special feature of the case will be the sub-

ject of summary and discussion in later articles. For the present we can only prepare the way for it by indicating the connection of secondary personality with the supernormal where the right method of investigation is applied. Students of this record must come to it with a knowledge of subconscious phenomena and of their more highly organized form in dual and multiple personalities. The time is not long past when these phenomena were not known to psychology, but a few remarkable cases were forced upon the attention of psychologists and now they have become commonplaces for scientific students, though they are little understood as yet. Subconscious phenomena take two forms, normal and abnormal. The normal type consists of those which characterize the life of all of us in our ordinary occupations and do not assume the form of what we call dissociation. They are rather harmoniously associated with our normal, mental and bodily life. There is no cleavage between the subconscious and the normal stream in our healthy life. It is only when some subconscious actions get split off, separated, or dissociated from the main normal stream that we get any friction with the normal life. The dissociation begins the abnormal life and therefore a split or severance between the coordinated action of the functions of mind and body. In normal life the nearest analogies to dissociation are fixed attention, abstraction, reverie and automatic habits. Usually these go along
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harmoniously with our normal thinking and action. But if at any time we get so absorbed in any of these states as to sever ourselves from our proper environment; that is, lose adjustment to this environment, we are in danger of some form of dissociation or cleavage with the healthy stream of functional activities. Just where the line shall be drawn between the normal and abnormal in this cannot be told distinctly. But in extreme types we can clearly distinguish between the two states. The normal person with his associations, conscious and subconscious, will not betray any indication of inharmonious action. His functions will adjust themselves to his environment, the objective world. Indeed the best criterion of sanity is just this rational adjustment to environment. Whenever we find any maladjustment to it, we may suspect some form of dissociation in the abnormal sense, and it is only an abnormal phenomenon. Just where it begins cannot be laid down in a manner to distinguish it clearly in all concrete or actual cases. Dissociation may be mixed up with proper association in other functions and be so slight in its own manifestations as not to create any presumption for serious disturbances. This aside, however, as discussing a criterion for insanity which it is not our place here to do, I wish only to emphasize the general nature of the phenomena as abnormal and indicating some disruption between the ordinary cohesion or harmoniously articulated functions and their action independently of their proper teleological nature.

Fixed attention tends to separate interest and perception from the indirect field of consciousness and the same is true of abstraction, reverie, habits and automatic actions. But these semi-conscious or semi-unconscious actions and functions may be so harmonious with our environment as not to disrupt the normal life. Hence they are not true dissociations. But when the attention is directed to one thing and the mind behaves itself as if it were concentrated on another, we find that functions, which normally act collusively, so to speak, coherently and harmoniously with our environment and are under the constant control of the voluntary life, no longer act with reference to our proper environment and are dissociated from those which are necessary for an adjusted life. Here begins dual personality. It may not reach the definiteness and the organized form in all cases. The dissociation may be very slight in some cases or in all cases at the start. It is not our business to determine this definitely here. All that we require to state or to recognize is that, in its initial stages dissociation may not betray anything seriously abnormal, though itself abnormal. When a man walks and talks in his sleep he displays dissociation, but it is not hard to cure, or if hard to cure does not often offer any serious reasons for treatment. It is when the dissociation becomes highly organized and imitative of a real personality in the individual that the phenomena become the subject of important scientific interest, psychological and medical. Here the split off groups of mental states take the form of some one else than the person we have known normally and regulate the bodily
and mental life without regard to the healthy adjustment to environment. These dissociations occur in cases diagnosed as hysteria, delusions, functional dementia, paranoia and other ailments. But these are highly developed forms of supposed insanity and are not of the type with which we have to deal in this record. The types which have to be studied in connection with the present case are those of Ansel Bourne (Proceedings Eng. S. P. R., Vol. VII, pp. 221-257), Sally Beauchamp (The Dissociation of a Personality. By Dr. Morton Prince), The Hanna Case (Multiple Personality. By Dr. Boris Sidis and Dr. Goodhart), the Brewin Case (Journal Am. S. P. R., Vol. VII, pp. 201-299) and the Barnes Case (Proceedings Eng. S. P. R., Vol. XVIII, pp. 325-415.) Dr. Allen Gilbert reported another case, but I have not the article or the reference to mention it more definitely. There have been many other cases less prominent before scientific men and in fact the phenomena are, perhaps, rather frequent. But those mentioned are the best reported and no students of the subconscious or of multiple personality will understand the present case without familiarity with those I have just mentioned. That of Sally Beauchamp is the nearest in type to the present one. It was a case of multiple personalities, four of them being present. In this of Doris Fischer there were five, and like Dr. Morton Princes case it has one mischievous personality like Sally. There is the celebrated case of Madame B, discussed by Pierre Janet in the Revue Philosophique for March, 1888, and summarized by Mr.
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Myers in his Human Personality and its Survival of Bodily Death Vol. I, pp. 322-330. It is also a constant subject for reference in La Automatisme Psychologique by Pierre Janet. The case was interesting especially for the fact that some remarkable telepathic experiments were performed with this subject, a circumstance which goes far to prove what the vehicle is for the supernormal. But the chief interest for the case here is its illustration of multiple personality without any evidence, superficially at least, of foreign invasion and for that reason has distinct analogies with the Doris Fischer case. It cannot be outlined here. Readers must consult the references. It is not the place here to suggest an explanation or a theory that the present facts may support. That must be the result of later discussion and study. We must not anticipate any interpretation of them. That is not possible until the records have been read and studied. The only remark which we require to make here is a precaution about what is meant by secondary and multiple personalities. Many persons suppose that the term dual or secondary personality means some reality other than and independent of the organism of the person affected, provided that it shall not be considered a spirit or discarnate human consciousness. They conceive the term as implying something just as independent of the organism as a spirit would be. But this is not the conception which science holds of the phenomena. It always conceives them as split off groups of mental states, memories and ideas, of the same subject as the normal states, except that they are not adjusted to their life. They are merely phenomena of the same mind or organism as
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the normal states. But the popular mind often, if not always, supposes they mean some obsessing agent not a discarnate spirit. The fact is, we know little enough about them under any conception, but they do not stand for either discarnate intelligence or non-human realities independently of the organism, as defined or conceived by scientific psychologists. They are only conceived as organized groups of mental phenomena dissociated or split off from the main stream of consciousness and their explanation still awaits a clear formulation. There is another circumstance in the definition of secondary personality that should be noted. We seldom make it clear. What has been said immediately preceding this, illustrates one of the confusions in the employment of the term. But there is another fact and it is the fluctuating conception which we take of it according to the exigencies of some argument about the supernormal. I refer to the two elements which constitute its nature, and not to the speculative causes of its occurrence. The primary criterion of secondary or multiple personality is the cleavage between the two streams of mental states, the split or mnemonic break, so that there seems to be no more connection between the two streams than between Smith and Jones. But there is a second fact of equal importance, though not so easy as proof of the cleavage. It is the contents of the secondary personalities mental states. Were it not for the cleavage, the contents would have no other significance than they have for the primary personality. But the cleavage that separates them as distinctly as two beings are separated in their mental states and memories is the fundamental phenomenon of

interest in the evidence of dissociation, and it marks the severance while the contents, if derived from normal experience, serve to distinguish the phenomena from the supernormal. The mere fact of cleavage will not determine that secondary personality, as it is called, excludes foreign invasion. We must further prove that the contents or knowledge of the secondary state is derived from the normal experience of the subject. Otherwise you have no standard for excluding the supernormal from a case. It may even be that the supernormal will be interfused with the subliminal or secondary states and in that case the problem of secondary and multiple personalities will remain open until the larger issue has been solved. In the course of time however, Dr. Prince obtained occasional indications of the supernormal in the case, and one of the personalities, Sleeping Margaret, after denying that she was a spirit, claimed to be one and explained her denial. She has persisted in this claim with great obstinacy. It is not necessary to accept her claim in dealing with the phenomena, but it is mentioned here as one of the psychological features of the case that has to be the subject of investigation and discussion. All its superficial characteristics suggest only dual or rather multiple personality, since there is not the slightest evidence of the personal identity of any of the personalities, in so far as the phenomena recorded by Dr. Prince would show. The first test of a discarnate spirit must be its ability to prove its terrestrial identity, and this is utterly wanting in the case of the personalities of the record as manifested in the subject.
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In the meantime, however, I happened to have opportunities to experiment with several other cases in the same manner as in that of Thompson-Gifford with the same results. There was the de Camp-Stockton Case (Journal Am. S. P. R., Vol. VI, pp. 181-265), the Ritchie-Abbott Case (Proceedings Am. S. P. R., Vol. VII, pp. 429-569), and three other instances, one of them a type that would have been appraised as hypnogogic illusion (Journal Am. S. P. R., Vol. VII, pp. 698-706, and Vol. IX, pp. 209-229). In all but one of these the psychiatrist and psychologist would have interpreted them as hysteria or forms of dissociation, and that quite correctly from the point of view of their subjective phenomena. There was no evidence according with the standard which theories of the supernormal must sustain in the present stage of investigation. But on being experimented with through Mrs. Chenoweth they yielded to cross reference. That is, the personalities which affected the subjects in their apparent hysteria and dissociation reported as communicators, or other spirits described what was going on under the influence of discarnate agencies. It is not the place to discuss them in detail here, but only to refer to them as showing that the phenomena in the present cases are not isolated ones. The present Report (Part 3) adds two more to the list that have been experimented with; the results must largely tell their own story. Such phenomena shed new light on multiple personality. Students of abnormal psychology have assumed, in most cases, that their description of secondary phenomena terminated explanations and never allowed themselves to suppose that anything further was required in

the way of investigation. What was in reality only a description of the facts was mistaken for an explanation and little encouragement was given for further investigation. The conception of dissociated groups of subconscious mental states sufficed to stay inquiry and to make students think that the end of explanation had been reached. No one could be censured for this in the light of what seemed impossible of further analysis or explanation. We had no access to the supposed brain processes assumed to lie at the basis of them and had to be content with conjectures of a vague character, based upon analogies with brain structure and molecular action. But the psychiatrist would not indulge the possibility of investigation by mediumistic methods and so cut off from himself very fertile resources for further information. The happy accident, if I may call a suggestion by that name, which arose in my mind while talking to Mr. Thompson about his experiences, of experimenting with a medium, practically solved for me the problem of method and the results in that case offered a hopeful resource for the future. It did not eliminate secondary or multiple personality from the boards, but either assigned its cause or complicated its phenomena with other agencies than those of the organism alone. It is not necessary here or as yet to decide which. Either may account for the phenomena, though probably both combined will be found necessary in some, if not all, cases of dissociation. The important thing here however, is the recognition that our investigation of multiple personality is not terminated by observing the subjective phenomena of the patient or by a priori speculations about their relation to nerve processes, but
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they require the more objective method of investigation by mediumistic experiments. No doubt normal cases might yield similar results, but it would be more difficult to prove the existence of foreign invasion there, because the dissociation necessary to distinguish the abnormal groups of mental phenomena from the normal personality does not exist there. It is the opposition or contrast between the normal and the abnormal mental phenomena that calls our attention to something requiring more than normal explanations. In normal cases the integrity of the mental life will offer less leverage for the security of foreign invasion in any manner to suggest when we have evidence of it even in mediumistic diagnoses and revelations. But in cases of multiple personality, if we discover mediumistic recognition of the personalities affecting the dissociated mental states of the patient we not only have securer evidence of the invasion, but we have a clue to a better explanation of multiple personality itself. The explanation will accord with what we usually accept in the unity of personality as we find it in normal life, and the dissociation, though it does not wholly lose its subjective character when connected with foreign invasion, will yet have a meaning more consistent with the ordinary explanations of mental life than are found in the speculations of the psychiatrist about neuroses, psychoses, and associated brain cells, even though the new explanation leaves us as many mysteries as before. There will be three Parts to the present Report, each occupying a volume of the Proceedings. The first two Parts will contain the detailed records and observations of Dr. Prince, covering several years of the

case which was under his care. No attempt is made in these two volumes to explain the phenomena. They are simply recorded in their entirety as they occurred, except such as involve repetitions and material not bearing on an analysis and explanation of the facts. The third Part contains the record and discussion of my own experiments with the case as a sitter at the sances of Mrs. Chenoweth, and one other case of similar import as tending to strengthen any conclusion that may be possible in the case of Doris Fischer. I may add two more cases of interest in the same connection, though they were not experimentally investigated for cross references with the same thoroughness. Both were subjects of this kind of experiment and yielded good evidence that they may be classified with the instances mentioned previously. The first is that of the young boy, the son of a clergyman, and who manifested undoubted evidences of hysteria and dissociation and yet both through his own mediumship proved the existence of supernormal information and through cross reference with Mrs. Chenoweth proved his character as a psychic, whatever the medical man might think about hysteria. (Cf. Journal Am. S. P. R., Vol. VII, pp. 1-63.) Apparently the hysterical symptoms were the condition of his mediumistic phenomena. They were at least the concomitants of them and the hysteria may have been nothing more than a concomitant of his mediumship instead of its condition or cause. At any rate, what the medical student and psychologist would have been satisfied with was not final and the right kind of experiment proved that the supernormal was present and served to justify the belief
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that it would be found in all such cases, if patience and scientific experiment were applied. The second case was a still more remarkable one. I refer to that of Miss Burton, the subject of the Report in Volume V of the Proceedings of the Am. S. P. R. Laymen and scientific men alike, with a superficial investigation, would have rested content with the judgment of fraud and would not even have indulged the charitable view of hysteria. But the two physicians who investigated it exhibited the right kind of patience and discovered the hysteria and proved it, while further experiment revealed the existence of four types of supernormal phenomena, raps, lights, clairvoyant visions, and, messages by automatic writing. If it could not be called a case of obsession, as it was not this in the prevailing conception of that term, it was an illustration of foreign invasion where orthodox science would not have suspected it. That fact suffices to justify the mention of it in this connection. It is the third Part that disturbs the ordinary dogmatism about multiple personality. While it cannot be dogmatic itself, especially in the Fischer case, it precipitates a revolutionary treatment of such phenomena and especially when they exhibit marks of dementia praecox* and paranoia, as some of them do. One case, however, that of the little
Dementia praecox (a "premature dementia" or "precocious madness") refers to a chronic, deteriorating psychotic disorder characterized by rapid cognitive disintegration, usually beginning in the late teens or early adulthood. It is a term first used in 1891 in this Latin form by Arnold Pick (18511924), a professor of psychiatry at the German branch of Charles University in Prague.
*

child Lillian, showed no marks whatever of the abnormal, but was, in fact, a perfectly normal child, in so far as her ordinary life was concerned, requiring no physician or medical attendance and differing from other children only in her precocity. No dissociation or hysteria manifested themselves with her. But for her remarkable dancing and singing without training or education for them no one would have suspected anything unusual about her. Hence in her case the invasion was of the type that is normal and represented good influences. The others were connected with some form of hysterical phenomena, though in two of them even these were very slight, if present at all. The Doris Fischer Case, however, is a perfect mine of the abnormal and was a remarkable instance of multiple personality. No superficial evidence of spirits appeared in her phenomena until the experiments with Mrs. Chenoweth took place. There were traces here and there of something supernormal in it, probably telepathic, and some claims of the presence of spirits, but nothing that we could accept in the present stage of our investigations. Everything, especially the limitations in knowledge manifested by the various personalities, supported the orthodox conceptions of multiple personality and possibly they are not excluded even by the admission of foreign agents into the area of these phenomena. That has to be determined in the future. But the experiments with Mrs. Chenoweth at least raise the issue of spiritistic invasion into the territory of secondary and multiple personality. How far the contents of secondary mental states may be regarded as transmitted from the outside has still to be determined. If we insisted that the
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contents can be the only reason for supposing the invasion, we would find it difficult, perhaps, to apply the explanation to all the facts; for undoubtedly the subconscious of the patient will be a factor in obsessions as well as in normal mediumship. But there is reason to believe that effects may be produced which do not find their explanation in mental content of the subconscious, so far as that comes under observation; for instance, motor actions of various types. Then there may be the further possibility, for the present at least, I think probability that there may be foreign stimulus with nothing but subjective contents in both mental and motor states. All this will have to be made the subject of further investigation, and I only mention it here to signify that I assign, or am willing to assign, limits to the influence of foreign invasions, in so far as they are represented by identity of content with their minds. It is true that the extent of this actual identity lends its support to the hypothesis of its being larger than is superficially indicated or than the actual evidence shows. But with the extent of such influences we have nothing to do as yet and must await further investigations for any definite views. The work of Dr. Prince will speak for itself. No one will question the carefulness and minuteness of his observations. The record shows that he has given the student all that could be given to make his case clear and complete. It should be remarked that he did not employ hypnosis at any time, though he did employ normal suggestion and that availed as well as hypnotic methods. It may satisfy certain finicky people to know this fact, because they have a foolish fear that hypnosis

is magical or supernatural. It is nothing of the kind and in fact may often result in effecting cures in much less time than normal suggestion. We do not yet know anything about suggestion. It is but a term to denote a group of facts associated with certain unusual effects and we may ascertain in the distant future why they take this form. But where there is any ignorant fear about hypnosis it is well to know that such cases may be dealt with successfully by normal suggestion, if the proper patience and care are used to effect a cure. But it is the scientific observation and record of the facts that is more important than the cure in a scientific investigation of such cases, that we may be enabled to approach other instances of the kind with better knowledge than we have had in the past. It is for this work that Dr. Prince deserves special praise and what he has done will not fail to receive recognition as a scientific piece of work. The record in this instance is much more complete than in that of Miss Beauchamp by Dr. Morton Prince and also the Hanna Case, by Drs. Sidis and Goodhart. There is no attempt in this instance by Dr. Walter F. Prince at speculative interpretation or explanation. The record of facts is all that is necessary for any student who could not have the fortune to have had the case under such observation. Students of psychology and psychiatry will have less difficulty than laymen in understanding it. Nothing more than has been done could have been supplied them. Whatever of mystery remains about it must be the result of our ignorance about such phenomena in general, not the defects of the record. Hence every investigator of psychiatry will express a strong
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debt of gratitude to Dr. Walter F. Prince for the thoroughness and completeness of his record. It will be most important to keep in mind two things about the case. The first is its cure and the second the subsequent development of mediumship. To a psychic researcher there are evidences of incipient mediumship very clear in the detailed record, but the secondary personality and dissociation obscured it and even prevented its development. The cure was not effected by the development of this aspect of the case. It is the opinion of the present writer that the cure would have been more rapid and would have involved fewer difficulties had it been carried on with this development as the means, because it would have brought out the obsessional phenomena that were a part of the cause of the trouble. But after the experiments with Mrs. Chenoweth this development became reasonably rapid and the future remains to determine just what it will be. The girl could not write automatically, save with the planchette, until after those sittings, except as Margaret and Sleeping Margaret. Her hand would only wiggle as she would say, but the moment that the Imperator group got at the case the development began with automatic writing of the usual type. This sequel to the phenomena should be a lesson in the therapeutics of such cases. Whether such a course should be always taken in such instances will depend on the knowledge and experience with psychic phenomena that the physician has. It is not every one that is qualified to undertake such a task. Even with knowledge, much depends on the personalities on the other side. Some are totally unfit to control in the cure and de-

velopment and a man will have to possess considerable experience in handling such cases in order to judge and act wisely in the treatment of them, especially if he undertakes to develop them into mediums. But the sooner the medical world surrenders to this view and begins its education the better will be its success in the handling of a whole series of abnormal phenomena including more types than functional dementia and paranoia, as well as multiple personality, which may be only forms of the phenomena just mentioned. James H. Hyssop.
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The Doris Fischer Case of Multiple Personality

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What are the different personalities that were discovered in the patient?

What are the different personalities that were discovered in the patient?

What factors contributed to the development of the additional personalities?

What factors contributed to the development of the additional personalities?

ONE .........................................................................................................

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JOURNAL OF THE AMERICAN SOCIETY FOR PSYCHICAL RESEARCH

JOURNAL OF THE AMERICAN SOCIETY FOR PSYCHICAL RESEARCH

JOURNAL OF THE AMERICAN SOCIETY FOR PSYCHICAL RESEARCH

JOURNAL OF THE AMERICAN SOCIETY FOR PSYCHICAL RESEARCH

JOURNAL OF THE AMERICAN SOCIETY FOR PSYCHICAL RESEARCH

JOURNAL OF THE AMERICAN SOCIETY FOR PSYCHICAL RESEARCH

JOURNAL OF THE AMERICAN SOCIETY FOR PSYCHICAL RESEARCH

JOURNAL OF THE AMERICAN SOCIETY FOR PSYCHICAL RESEARCH

JOURNAL OF THE AMERICAN SOCIETY FOR PSYCHICAL RESEARCH

JOURNAL OF THE AMERICAN SOCIETY FOR PSYCHICAL RESEARCH

JOURNAL OF THE AMERICAN SOCIETY FOR PSYCHICAL RESEARCH

JOURNAL OF THE AMERICAN SOCIETY FOR PSYCHICAL RESEARCH