THE CONSCIOUSNESS OF SELF. 381 



court and then in the hospital, but without in the least understand- 

 ing the reason why. That he had epileptic attacks, he knew. But it 

 was impossible to convince him that for hours together he raved and 

 acted in an abnormal way." 



Another remarkable case is that of Mary Reynolds, 

 lately republished again by Dr. Weir Mitchell.* Tliis dull 

 and melancholy young woman, inhabiting the Pennsylvania 

 wilderness in 1811, 



" was found one morning, long after her habitual time for rising, in a 

 profound sleep from which it was impossible to arouse her. After 

 eighteen or twenty hours of sleeping she awakened, but in a state of 

 unnatural consciousness. Memory had fled. To all intents and pur- 

 poses she was as a being for the first time ushered into the world. 'AH 

 of the past that remained to her was the faculty of pronouncing a few 

 words, and this seems to have been as purely instinctive as the wailings 

 of an infant ; for at first the words which she uttered wei'e connected 

 with no ideas in her mmd.' Until she was taught their significance 

 they were unmeaning sounds. 



" ' Her eyes were virtually for the first time opened upon the world. 

 Old things had passed away ; all things had become new.' Her parents, 

 brothers, sisters, friends, were not recognized or acknowledged as such 

 by her. She had never seen them before, — never known them, — was 

 not awaro that ouch persons had been. Now for the first time she 

 was introduced to their company and acquaintance. To the scenes by 

 which she was surrounded she was a perfect stranger. The house, the 

 fields, the forest, the hiils, the vales, the streams, — all were novelties. 

 The beauties o*"' +he landscape were all unexplored. 



" She had not the slightest consciousness that she had ever existed 

 previous to ti:e moment in which she awoke from that niysterious 

 slumber. ' .n a word, she v/as an infant, jus* born, yet born in a state of 

 maturity, with a capacity for relishing the rich, sublime, luxuriant 

 wonders of created nature.' 



" The first lesson in her education was to teach her by what ties she 

 was bound to those by whom she was surrounded, and the duties de- 

 volving upon her accordingly. This she was very slow to learn, and, 

 ' indeed, never did learn, or, at least, never would acknowledge the 

 ties of consanguinity, or scarcely those of friendship. She considered 

 those she had once known as for the most part strangers and enemies, 

 among whom she wa^, by some remarkable and unaccountable means, 

 transplanted, though from what region or state of existence was a prob- 

 lem unsolved.' 



" The next lesson was to re-teach her the arts of reading and writing. 

 She was apt enough, and made such rapid progress in both that in a 



* Transactions of the College of Physicians of Philadelphia, April 4, 

 1888. Also, less complete, in Harper's Magazine, May 1860. 



