Читать книгу Tics and Their Treatment - Feindel Eugène - Страница 4

AT the time when the plan of our book was being sketched we decided to introduce the subject with several characteristic clinical documents, since it appeared to us indispensable to preface our definitions with an illustration of the type of affection and of patient that we had in view. The choice was rather bewildering at first; but towards the close of 1901 one of us was put into communication with an individual who is a perfect compendium of almost all the varieties of tic, and whose story, remarkable alike for its lucidity and its educative value, forms the most natural prelude to our study. The history is neither a fable nor an allegory, but an authenticated and impartial clinical picture, whose worth is enhanced by no less genuine facts of self-observation.

O. may be said to constitute the prototype of the sufferer from tic, for his grandfather, brother, and daughter have all been affected, and he himself has not escaped. His grandmother and grandfather were first cousins, and the latter, in addition to being a stammerer, developed tics of face and head; his brother stammers too, while both his sister and his daughter have facial tics, and one of his sons was afflicted with asthma as a youth. The family history therefore more than confirms the existence of a grave neuropathic heredity, an unfailing feature in cases of tic.

O.'s fifty-four years lie lightly on him. His physique and general health are excellent, and devotion to bodily exercise and outdoor sports has enabled him to maintain a vigour and an agility above the average; nor is his intellectual activity any less keen.

His earliest tics – simple facial grimaces and movements of the head – made their appearance when he was eleven years old; notwithstanding, his recollection of their mode of onset is very exact.

I have always been conscious of a predilection for imitation. A curious gesture or bizarre attitude affected by any one was the immediate signal for an attempt on my part at its reproduction, and is still. Similarly with words or phrases, pronunciation or intonation, I was quick to mimic any peculiarity.

When I was thirteen years old I remember seeing a man with a droll grimace of eyes and mouth, and from that moment I gave myself no respite until I could imitate it accurately. The rehearsals were not prolonged, as a matter of fact, and the upshot was that for several months I kept repeating the old gentleman's grimace involuntarily. I had, in short, begun to tic.

In my fifteenth year I was at school with two boys whose hair was rather long, and who had acquired the habit of tossing it back by an abrupt shake of the head. It is true I cannot recollect endeavouring to ape this, but in any case it was at the same time that I found myself exhibiting an identical gesture, and I have little doubt it is the source of one of the tics from which I suffer at present.

I enlisted at the commencement of hostilities in 1870, and had already begun my military instruction, when a personal review of the company was made by a new colonel. As he passed he came to a sudden halt before me, and proceeded to harangue me on my far from military bearing; but his invective had no other effect than to aggravate my facial contortions, and the affair might have proved serious enough for me had not my captain come to the rescue and explained the involuntary nature of the spasms. The colonel, however, would have none of them and after a fortnight's sojourn in hospital I was discharged for "choreic movements of the face."

O.'s tics were at the first confined to the eyes and lips, but others were not long in appearing. He happened to be out one day for a walk with his sister during a snowstorm, and a flake entering his nostril made him sneeze and sniff half a dozen times. Long after the snow had ceased falling and the tickling sensation had vanished he repeated the performance, till it passed into a sniffing tic that continued for some months. His sister thoughtlessly set herself to mimic him, and speedily evolved an identical tic, which still persists.

In their turn, neck and shoulders were implicated in the affection. The most inveterate of all his tics is a somewhat complex twist of the head, whereby the occiput is depressed jerkily, and the chin advanced and elevated, occasionally to the right, though more commonly to the left. Such is the clonic form of the tic, at once frequent and obvious; but it may assume a tonic form, distinguished by an almost permanent retrocollic displacement of the head, the chin being carried in the air.

If, now, we approach these tics in greater detail, we notice, first of all, a blinking tic, more marked on the left side. Apart from abrupt and intermittent contractions of the orbicularis, which close the eye completely and wrinkle the skin in the neighbourhood, the same muscle sometimes passes into a state of tonic contraction, whereby the eye remains only half open, while the rest of the face is in repose, and so continues for a minute or more. Frontal and eyebrow tics also are frequently to be remarked.

Of his own accord O. has supplied us with a pathogenic and etiological analysis of these tics, which for accuracy and insight is truly astonishing.

A large number of my head and face movements owe their origin to the annoyance caused me by my seeing the tip of my nose or of my moustache from time to time. The former organ appears to make a sort of screen in front of me, to avoid which I turn or raise my head: I can now see the object I am facing, but at the same time, naturally, I see my nose again at the side, whence one more tilt of the head, and so on. I am well enough aware how nonsensical all this is; but it fails to deter me from my desire of playing at hide-and-seek with my nose. It is for an identical reason that each moment finds me blinking one eye or the other, or both; I wish, and yet I do not wish, to see my nose, and so I bring my hand up to cover my face. Vain delusion! for if I conceal my nose thus, it is my hand I see next, and I escape from Scylla to fall into Charybdis!

Here, then, is a tic springing from an ordinary visual impression. Any one can see the point of his nose if he wishes, but it does not come in his way should he be looking at something else; whereas our patient divides his attention between the end of his nose and the object of his regard, and his volatile will passes lightly from one to the other, incapable of concentrating itself on either. Force of repetition changes the voluntary act into an automatic habit, the initial motive for which is soon lost; and the patient shows the weakness of his character by making little or no effort at inhibition.

Resort to a pince-nez, in view of advancing age, has contributed materially to the elaboration of a host of absurd jerky movements, from which more tics have been recruited.

No sooner have I put on my pince-nez than I long to alter its position in innumerable ways. I must needs push it down or raise it up, must set it farther on or farther off; sometimes I tax my ingenuity in attempts to displace it by tossing my head. Instead of looking tranquilly through the glasses, my eye is continually attracted by the rim, some point on which I try to focus or to get into a line with the object at which I am gazing. I want to see the object and the pince-nez at the same time; as soon as I no longer see the former I wish to see it again, and similarly with the latter. My tics upset my pince-nez, and I have to invent another tic to get it back into place. The absurdity of this vicious circle does not escape my observation, and I know I am its author, yet that cannot prevent my becoming its victim.

When the pince-nez is not in use I toy with the spring or with the cord, and a day seldom passes without my breaking the one or the other. As I wear spectacles at home one might suppose their relative stability would check my tricks; but their pressure on my temples and ears only serves to provoke fresh movements in a search for comfort.

And so the thing goes on. I was perfectly well aware of it at first, and was wont to imagine it was remediable; eventually, however, these grimaces of mine took place without any attention on my part, and then in spite of it, and I was no longer their master. There seem to be two persons in me: the one that tics, the son of the one that does not, is an enfant terrible, a source of great anxiety to his parent, who becomes a slave to his caprices. I am at once the actor and the spectator; and the worst of it is, the exuberance of the one is not to be thwarted by the just recriminations of the other.

In his accidental discovery of a "crack" in his neck originated other tics. As a matter of fact, these "cracks" do exist, and can be heard at a little distance; but it always requires a brisk toss of the head to elicit them. This is O.'s account of their evolution:

One day as I was moving my head about I felt a "crack" in my neck, and forthwith concluded I had dislocated something. It was my concern, thereafter, to twist my head in a thousand different ways, and with ever-increasing violence, until at length the rediscovery of the sensation afforded me a genuine sense of satisfaction, speedily clouded by the fear of having done myself some harm. The painlessness of the "crack" induced me to go through the same performance many and many a time, and on each occasion my feeling of contentment was tinged with regret: even to-day, notwithstanding that I ought to be persuaded of the harmlessness of the occurrence and the inanity of the manœuvre, I cannot withstand the allurement or banish the sentiment of unrest.

One could not desire a more lucid exposition of the pathogeny of so many of these head-tossing tics. The fundamental importance of the psychical element that precedes the motor reaction, with the secondary psychical reaction in its turn, the impulse to seek a familiar sensation, and the illogical interpretation of it under the influence of a tendency to nosophobia, are all admirably illustrated in O.'s description.

In addition to such "cracks" as are perceptible to others, O. is conscious of various bizarre subjective sensations that he refers to the same region – "bruised," "dragging," "crackling" feelings, not at all dolorous, to which he devotes an inordinate share of his attention. There is nothing abnormal about these, of course; not only may we notice them in ourselves, but, with a little effort, we may even reproduce them. Our indifference to their presence is the exact opposite of the interest they arouse in the patient's mind; his fickle will is, for no adequate motive, concentrated on a commonplace event, and on this slender basis delusions are fostered and tics are shaped.

The insight into the close association between the state of the mind and the development of tic yielded by a study of the foregoing narrative will enable us to appreciate the perspicacity of what follows:

I suppose that we who tic make a great number of voluntary movements with the deliberate purpose of withdrawing attention from the tics we already exhibit; but step by step they become so habitual that they are nothing less than fresh tics appended to the old. To dissemble one tic we fashion another.

Certain objects become for us what might be called para-tics. Such, for an instance, is my hat. I used to imagine I could mask all my oddities by tilting it on my head. I used to carry it in my hand, and play with it in every conceivable manner – to the advantage of the hatter solely, for it did not last me more than six weeks… We are our own physicians at first: the discomfort of a tic is an urgent reason for our seeking to compass its overthrow.

For years it was O.'s custom when out walking to clasp his hands behind his back, bend his body forward, and hold his chin in the air, and this habit explains his attitude tic of to-day. The ludicrousness of it was early impressed on him, but instead of adopting the obvious solution of the difficulty, he proceeded to devise a whole series of intricate measures to regain the correct position – measures which he picturesquely names para-tics. At first he used the curved handle of his cane to pull on the brim of his hat, and so depress his head; a subsequent modification consisted in putting the cane under his chin and pressing down on it. Each of these subterfuges attained a degree of success, and that in spite of the fact that in one case the extensors, and in the other the flexors, of the head were being resisted: in other words, each was efficacious so long as O. chose to consider it so.

Eventually their serviceableness dwindled, and O. conceived the plan of slipping his cane between his jacket and his buttoned overcoat so that the chin might find support against its knob. In the movements of walking, however, contact between the two was never maintained – each was for ever seeking the whereabouts of the other; and while it mattered little that this incessant groping and jockeying wore out several suits and the lining of several overcoats, the more serious result was the acquisition on O.'s part of the habit of making various up-and-down and side-to-side movements of his head, which continued to assert themselves, though chin and cane were no more in proximity.

It was not long ere the ceaseless intrusion of his head tics drove him every moment in search of a support for his chin. To read or write he was forced to rest it on a finger, or on his fist, or hold it between two fingers, or with his open hand, or with two hands, although the distraction provided by a serious occupation sufficed to banish the impulse and stay the tics.

A day came when application of the hand no longer seemed calculated to ensure immobility of the head, whereupon he hit on the idea of sitting astride a chair and propping his chin against it. This idea had its day, and the next move was to press his nose against one end of the chair back. Each successive stratagem was of marvellous promise at the outset, but its inhibitory value rapidly deteriorated and new plans were concocted.

All schemes for fixation lose their virtue through time, but they may be abandoned for other reasons, one of the principal of which is the development of pain. By dint of rubbing or pressing his nose or his chin on the knob of his cane and the back of his chair, O. has produced little excoriations and sores on the parts concerned, the pain of which acts as a deterrent, but his tics and para-tics break out afresh whenever it has gone. The game has been carried to such an extent that under the chin and at the root of the nose there have appeared actual corns – strange stigmata of one's "profession."

The details in the mental process are similar to what has been already noted:

It was the craving to keep my head in a correct position that induced the habit of leaning my chin on something, and I found it essential to feel the contact; familiarity, however, soon ended in my failing to perceive it, and a new movement was made that I might experience the sensation once more. And so on the ball rolled, till augmentation of the force I exerted, under a constant incitement to feel something more or something else, resulted in the formation of callosities on nose and chin.

In this way factitious wants come into being, which may be described as a sort of parasitic function of which the patient is alike the creator and the dupe.

O.'s therapeutic ingenuity, however, could not rest satisfied except when some fresh contrivance was being put to the test. Needless to say, at one time he experimented with the stiff collars affected by some sufferers from mental torticollis.

At the commencement I used to wear collars of medium height, though not wide enough to admit my chin. An attempt to obviate the difficulty by unbuttoning my shirt and bending my head down so as to keep my chin in the opening proved abortive, owing to the weakness of the resistance, so I purchased much higher and suffer ones, in which I buried my lower jaw and prevented its moving at all. The success of this method was transitory, nevertheless, for however stiffly they were starched, the collars invariably yielded in the end and presented a lamentable aspect. I next happened on the fatuous plan of attaching a string to my brace buttons, and passing it up under my waistcoat to connect it with a little ivory plate that I held between my teeth, its length being so arranged that in order to seize the plate I had to lower my head. Admirable idea! I soon was forced to abandon it, however, for my trousers were pulled up on the right in a way that was as grotesque as it was uncomfortable. I have always had a weakness for the principle of the thing, nevertheless, and even to-day as I go down the street I sometimes catch hold of the collar of my jacket or vest with my teeth and stroll along in this way. At home it is the collar of my shirt that acts as my tether.

The retrocollic attitude that O. favours seems to have had the further effect of making him forget how to look down. There is no impairment of any of the eye movements, but he has considerable trouble in directing his gaze downwards, and if with his head in the normal position he holds a book below the level of the plane of his eyes, reading is more arduous, and after a little time impossible. Yet there is no indication whatever of ocular paresis; it is rather a sort of apprehension from which he suffers. On several occasions we have remarked a synergy of function, head and eyes moving upward in unison.

Our patient's category of tics is not yet exhausted, however. He has been afflicted with a shoulder tic, consisting of simultaneous or alternate elevation, sometimes of other movements, and always with some abduction of the arms. Frequent execution of these actions has culminated in the acquisition of the faculty of voluntarily producing a rather loud "crack" in the shoulder articulations, which thus not merely originated in a tic, but supplies an ever-active stimulus for its reproduction; in its occurrence satisfaction and dissatisfaction are blended as before. At the present moment the impulse to this particular tic is in abeyance, and he has ceased to take any interest in the "crack," considering it a trivial society accomplishment of no significance or danger, analogous to voluntary subluxation of the thumb, or to the curious sounds that some people are fond of making by way of diversion.

Again, O. has been a martyr to a leg tic of several months' duration. When he was on his feet, he learned to strike his right heel against his left ankle, wearing his trouser through in no time, and ceasing only with the development of a painful wound over the bone. Once it was healed, however, came the deliberate search for the sensation again, and the pleasurable feeling in its rediscovery.

In O.'s case the inhibitory influence of the will on his tics is abundantly manifest. Should he find himself in the company of one from whom he would fain conceal his tics, he is able to repress them completely for an hour or two, and similarly if he is deep in an interesting or serious conversation. Nevertheless, the desire to let himself go obtrudes itself again, and if he can refrain no longer he will invent any pretext for leaving the room, abandoning himself in his moment of solitude to a veritable debauch of absurd gesticulations, a wild muscular carnival, from which he returns comforted, to resume sedately the thread of the interrupted dialogue.

O. is fond of cycling, and while at first the attention that the necessary co-ordination of hands and feet demanded proved an effective barrier in the way of his tics, now that he can maintain his equilibrium automatically his head assumes its favourite attitude of posterior displacement. His devotion to a game of billiards, or to such exercises as fencing or rowing, is never interfered with by an unruly tic. He is a great fisher, and when he "has a bite," or is expecting one, he will remain motionless indefinitely; his tics do not hinder him from preparing his bait with the minutest care. But let his interest in his prospective catch fade, let the fish be disinclined to "take," and there will be a renewal of the movements.

In his sleep they one and all disappear. The mere assumption of a horizontal position, however, no longer suffices to bridle them, and before dropping off to sleep he passes many a minute in seeking comfort. The rubbing of his head on the pillow, the rustling of the clothes, disturb and exasperate him, and he turns in this direction and that for relief; yet should he hear or feel nothing, he will change about once more in the search for a sensation or a sound. Thus has it come about that to procure slumber he has adopted the extraordinary plan of lying at the very edge of the bed and letting his head hang over.

The series is not yet at an end.

O. exhibits a tic of the inferior maxilla. He protrudes and retracts his jaw alternately in his endeavour to elicit cracking noises from his temporo-maxillary articulations. At one time his hands used to join in the fray, the goal being to overcome the masseters and effect a sort of dislocation. A biting tic ensued. One day O. was alarmed to discover two dark patches on the internal aspect of the cheeks, but was reassured on learning from his sister – whose proclivities lay in a similar direction – that she had noticed the same in her own case, and that it was the result of constant nibbling at the buccal mucous membrane.

Nor was this the solitary biting tic. Formerly a pencil or a pen-holder used to be unrecognisable at the end of twenty-four hours, and the handles of canes and umbrellas suffered as well. To obviate the nuisance he entertained the unfortunate idea of using metal pen-holders and carrying silver-mounted walking-sticks; but his teeth failed to make any impression on the objects, and began to break in consequence. The irritation produced by a small dental abscess proved an additional source of mischief, for he developed the habit of trying, with finger, cane, or pen-holder, to shake the teeth in their sockets, and was finally compelled to have the incisors, canines, and first molars drawn. Then he ordered a set of false teeth – a move that afforded a new excuse for a tic. Every moment the set was in imminent risk of being swallowed, so vigorously did his tongue and lips assail it. Fortunately such an accident has never occurred, although he has already broken several sets. Sometimes he would be seized with an insane impulse to take his teeth out, and would invent the flimsiest pretext for retiring; the set would then be extracted and immediately reinserted, to his complete satisfaction and peace of mind.

An infinite variety of scratching tics must be added to the number. He has also a tic of phonation dating back to his fifteenth year. His custom was, when learning his lessons at school, to punctuate his recital of them with little soft expiratory noises that may still be distinguished to-day among a host of other tics. The following is his proffered explanation of the pathogeny of this "clucking" tic:

We who tic are consumed with a desire for the forbidden fruit. It is when we are required to keep quiet that we are tempted to restlessness; it is when silence is compulsory that we feel we must talk. Now, when one is learning his lessons, conversation is prohibited, the natural consequence being that he seeks to evade the galling interdict by giving vent to some inarticulate sound. In this fashion did my "cluck" come into being. Moreover, we abhor a vacuum, and fill it as we may. Various are the artifices we might employ – such, for instance, as speaking aloud; but that is much too obvious, and does not satisfy: to make a little grunt or cluck, on the other hand – what a comfort in a tic like that!

We need not smile at these explanations, for they are corroborated by the facts of clinical observation. Fear of silence is nothing else than a form of phobia, comparable to the fear of open spaces.

O.'s account of the origin of his tics supplies further evidence of the mental infantilism of those with whom we are at present concerned. It is the prerogative of "spoilt children" to wish to do exactly what they are forbidden to do. They seem to be animated by a spirit of contrariness and of resistance; and if in normal individuals reason and reflection prevail with the approach of maturity, in these "big babies" many traces of childhood persist, in spite of the march of years.

In the strict sense of the words there never has been any echolalia or coprolalia in O.'s case, though it has happened that expressions lacking in refinement have escaped him; but he never has been consciously yet irresistibly urged to utter a gross word. The sole vestige of anything of the kind is a sort of fruste coprolalia that consists in an impulse to use slang – an impulse which he cannot withstand and which he finds consolation in obeying.

Some additional details may be submitted to illustrate the intimate analogies between tics and obsessions.

O. is a great cigarette smoker, and with him the call to smoke is inexorable. It is not so much, however, the effects of the narcotic for which he seeks as the sum of the sensations derived from the act – the rustling of the tobacco in the paper, the crackle of the match, the sight of the cloud of smoke, the fragrance of it, the tickling of nose and throat, the touch of the cigarette in the fingers, or between the lips – in a word, a whole series of stimuli, visual, auditory, olfactory, and tactile, whose habitual repetition gradually introduces into the act of smoking an automatic element that brings it into line with the tics. The suppression of this parasitic function commonly produces a feeling of the utmost discomfort; inability to indulge in it causes the keenest anguish. More agonising than the actual impossibility of smoking is the idea of its being impossible. Hence it is that O. lights cigarette after cigarette, taking a few whiffs at each and throwing them aside scarce touched, or leaving them here, there, and everywhere. The dose is immaterial; it is the rehearsal of the act he finds so soothing.

In regard to his taste for liquor a similar description might be given. The intoxicating effect of any beverage had little attraction for him; it was the drinker's gesture and the numerous accompanying sensations that he sought to renew. Any form of drink, therefore, served to gratify his desire; in other words, his behaviour revealed a phase of dipsomania rather than a stage of alcoholism. For that matter, the development of symptoms of alcoholic poisoning proved a blessing in disguise, since they reinforced the inhibitory power of the will, and enabled it to abort a sensori-motor habit that had wellnigh become established.

No objective alteration in cutaneous sensibility in any of its forms is discoverable on examination of O., but he bewails a long array of subjective sensations, painful or disagreeable as the case may be. Certain abdominal pains in particular occupy his thoughts: after being in bed about an hour he begins to suffer from pain in the abdomen and across the kidneys, so acute that he is forced to rise and walk about his room, or sit on one chair after another; at length it moderates enough to allow return to bed and permit of sleep. During these crises there is no sign of any local pathological condition, no distention or tenderness or evacuation of the bowel. They usually last for some days at a time and disappear suddenly, as when, after several nights' and days' uninterrupted suffering, his pains vanished as by an enchanter's wand once he set foot on the boat that was to take him to England.

We have had the opportunity of observing our patient in the throes of one of these attacks, and while we did not doubt the genuineness of his sufferings, we could not but be struck with the dramatic exuberance of his gestures. He wriggled on his chair, unbuttoned his clothes, undid his necktie and his collar, pressed his abdomen with his hands, sobbed and sighed and pretended to swoon away. Such excessive reaction to pain is characteristic of a nervous and badly trained child, not of a man of his years. Notwithstanding his humiliation at these exhibitions of weakness, he can no more control them than he can his ordinary tics; in fact, the tics run riot during the crises of pain.

On several occasions the reflexes have been the object of examination. The pupillary reactions are normal, as are the tendon reflexes of the upper extremity; but the knee jerks are much diminished, and one day we failed to elicit them at all, though we noted their return a week later. A careful search for further signs of possible cerebro-spinal mischief proved negative, if we except a slight flexion of the knees when walking and a tendency to a shuffling gait.

Notwithstanding this absence, in O.'s case, of any definite indication of organic disease, we cannot afford, in our examination of patients, to overlook any symptom, however fleeting or trivial it may appear, since it is only by painstaking investigation both on the physical and the mental side that we can ever hope to determine the characters and fathom the nature of the affection, apart from the value of such an investigation as an aid to diagnosis, prognosis, and treatment.

With charming spontaneity and frankness, but critically withal, O. has furnished us with a picture of his mental state. Nothing could be truer or more instructive than this piece of self-observation, even though his obvious pleasure in hearing himself talk is a little weakness of which, to tell the truth, he is the first to accuse himself:

In childhood and at school my accomplishments were ever on the same dead level of mediocrity. I was neither brilliant nor backward; in the drawing-room or in the playground, I was good at everything without excelling in anything; the astonishing facility with which I learned to sing, play, draw, and paint, was linked with inability to distinguish myself at these pursuits.

Each new study, each new game, attract and captivate me at first, but I soon tire of them, and once a fresh enterprise has taken their place, indifference to them changes to disgust. If I am amused with a thing, I do it well; if bored, I throw it aside. I suppose it is characteristic of people who tic to be fickle and vacillating.

The versatility which is so fundamental an element in O.'s nature has not been prejudicial to his business career. He has managed and still manages important commercial undertakings, demanding initiative and decision, and, so far from sparing himself in any way, he has exhibited a combination of caution and audacity that has stood him in good stead. It is more especially in the conduct of urgent operations that his alertness is displayed. His comprehensive grasp of the situation enables him to put his machinery at once into action, with eminently satisfactory results, if we judge by his prosperous and assured position.

His mobile and impulsive temperament is revealed in his every deed, but he shows at the same time a curious disposition to alternate between the pros and the cons of a question. It is the outcome of his extremely analytical and introspective mind.

I find myself seeking a knot in every bulrush. I experience a sensation of pleasure only to tax my ingenuity in discovering some danger or blame therein. If a person produces an agreeable impression on me, I cudgel my brains in the attempt to detect faults in him. I take it into my head to ascertain how anything from which I derive enjoyment might become an aversion instead. The absurdity of these inconsistencies is perfectly patent to me, and my reflections occasion me pain; but the attainment of my ends is accompanied with a feeling of pleasure.

In regard to my tics, what I find most insupportable is the thought that I am making myself ridiculous and that every one is laughing at me. I seem to notice in each person I pass in the street a curious look of scorn or of pity that is either humiliating or irritating. No doubt my statement is a little exaggerated, but my fellows and I have an overweening self-conceit. We wish to be ignored, and yet we wish to be considered; it is annoying to be the object of sympathy, but we cannot bear to become a laughing-stock. Accordingly our goal is the dissimulation of our failing by any means feasible; yet nine times out of ten our efforts are abortive simply because we invent a tic to hide a tic, and so add both to the ridicule and the disease.

Alike in speaking and in writing O. betrays an advanced degree of mental instability. His conversation is a tissue of disconnected thoughts and uncompleted sentences; he interrupts himself to diverge at a tangent on a new train of ideas – a method of procedure not without its charm, as it frequently results in picturesque and amusing associations. No sooner has he expressed one idea in words than another rises in his mind, a third, a fourth, each of which must be suitably clothed; but as time fails for this purpose, the consequence is a series of obscure ellipses which are often captivating by their very unexpectedness.

His writing presents an analogous characteristic.

It has often happened that I have commenced a business letter in the usual formal way, gradually to lose sight of its object in a crowd of superfluous details. Worse still, if the matter in hand be delicate or wearisome, my impatience is not slow to assert itself by remarks and reproaches so pointed and violent that my only course on reperusal of the letter is to tear it up.

By way of precaution, therefore, O. has adopted the plan of having all his correspondence re-read by his colleague. Strangely enough, to his actual caligraphy no exception can be taken. The firmness of the characters, the accuracy of the punctuation and accentuation, the straightness of the lines, are as good as in any commercial handwriting.

With the aggravation of his head tics writing has become a serious affair. Every conceivable attitude has been essayed in turn, and at present the device he favours is to sit across a chair and rest his chin or his nose on the back; in this fashion he can write all that is required.

O.'s every act is characterised by extreme impatience. In his hurry he comes into collision with surrounding objects or breaks what he is carrying in his hand, not because of defective vision or inco-ordination of movement, but because of his eagerness to be done.

In spite of the fact that I know my recklessness to be absurd, that I see well enough the obstacles around and the danger of an encounter, I am conscious of a paradoxical impulse to do exactly what I should not do. In the same instant of time I want what I do not want. As I pass through a door I knock against the door-post without fail, for the sole reason that I would avoid it.

There is impatience in his speech. His volubility makes him out short his own phrases or break in upon the conversation of others. If an idea suggests itself, he must give it expression. Perhaps the word wedded to the idea is not at once forthcoming, yet he does not hesitate to invent a neologism, which is often amusing in spite of or because of its oddness, and if it please him he will enter it in his vocabulary and use it in preference to the other.

To wait is foreign to his nature. The least delay at table exasperates him; any order he gives must be executed instanter; no sooner has he set out than he would be at his journey's end. An obstruction or difficulty in the way is the signal for a fresh outburst; his irritation soon exceeds all bounds; his language degenerates into brutality, his gestures become increasingly violent and menacing.

It is not with any surprise, then, that we learn in O.'s case of incipient homicidal and suicidal ideas.

At times when my tics were in full force evil thoughts have often surged over me, and on two or three occasions I have picked up a revolver, but reason fortunately has come to the rescue.

As a matter of fact, the suicidal tendencies of some sufferers from tic are seldom full-blown. The will is too unstable to effect their realisation. Hence the patient's hints at doing away with himself are nothing more than empty verbiage. Similarly with the inclination to commit homicide, it vanishes as soon as it arises.

The term "vertigos" is used by O. to designate a long series of little "manias" or obsessional fears from which he suffers, among which may be enumerated dread of passing along certain streets and a consequent impulse to walk through others; dread of breaking any fragile object he holds in his hands, coupled with the temptation to let it fall; fear of heights, and at the same time a desire to throw himself into space.

I have often stood on the edge of the pavement waiting for a vehicle to pass, and at the moment of its approach darted across just under the horse's nose. On each occasion I have been conscious equally of the absurdity and yet of the irresistibility of the idea; each time the attempt to withstand it has been labour lost.

O. is a great nosophobe. At one time he was immoderately apprehensive of contracting hydrophobia, and used to flee from the first dog he saw. To his sincere regret he had several of his pet dogs killed, because of his conviction that they would become infected, although he felt such harsh measures to be quite unjustifiable. At a subsequent stage he turned syphilophobe for no adequate reason. He was alarmed lest a minute pimple on his chin should develop into a chancre. Recently his chief misgiving has been that he may become ataxic or demented.

Among his various afflictions mention must be made of an umbilical hernia, supposed to have originated in the chafing of his umbilicus by a belt he was wearing during a long spell in a canoe. As a matter of fact, the hernia is purely imaginary – at any rate, there is no trace of it to-day. Yet at the first it bulked very largely in his mind, and he is still fully persuaded of its reality, though no longer of its gravity.

O. further complains of all sorts of noises in his ears, but these are simply the ordinary sounds that one can produce in the middle ear by clenching the jaws together. He will not accept so obvious an explanation, however, preferring to regard them as indubitable evidence of the "lesion" with which he is preoccupied. The tinnitus, therefore, is rather of the nature of an illusion than of a hallucination.

He is distinctly emotional, and lives at the mercy of his emotions, but from their very bitterness he contrives to derive some pleasure. His passion for horse-racing is not due to the fascination of the sport, but to a bitter-sweet sensation which the excitement of the scene calls into being. He is indifferent to arrest or aggravation of his tics; all that he seeks is the association of a certain sense of anguish with certain "tremolos in the limbs," wherewith he is greatly delighted.

In the domain of his affections there does not appear to be any abnormality. O. is an excellent paterfamilias, adoring his children, but spoiling them badly at the same time. In this part of our examination we did not press for details, but as far as we have gathered he is capable of sympathies keenly felt though rarely sustained.

Thus, whatever be the circumstances, changeableness, versatility, want of balance, are manifested clearly in all his mental operations; and when he remarks himself on the youthfulness of his disposition, he is simply stating a truism as far as those who tic are concerned, for, in spite of the advance of years, their mental condition is one of infantilism.

Under our direction O. has devoted several months to the eradication of his tics, and he has not been slow to appreciate the aim of the method or to acquire its technique. One of the first results was the repudiation of various procedures more harmful than otherwise, and the successful endeavour to maintain absolute immobility for an increasing space of time. The outcome of it all has been a gradual diminution of the tics in number, frequency, and violence, and a corresponding physical and mental amelioration.

We do not intend in this place to enlarge on the details of our treatment: suffice it to say that it consisted in a combination of Brissaud's "movements of immobilisation" and "immobilisation of movements" with Pitres's respiratory exercises and the mirror drill advocated by one of us. To-day the utility of these measures is an accepted fact; but at the same time we rely on an inseparable adjunct in the shape of mental therapeusis, seeking to make the patient understand the rationale of the discipline imposed.

Our task has been lightened to an unusual degree through O.'s intimate acquaintance with the beginnings of his tics and his striking faculty of assimilation. On many occasions he has anticipated our intentions and of his own accord outlined a programme in harmony with the indications we were about to give him. Thanks to this happy combination of circumstances, the improvement effected by our treatment has been quickly manifested.

I am conscious of very material gain. I do not tic so often or with such force. I know how to keep still. Above all, I have learned the secret of inhibition. Absurd gestures that I once thought irrepressible have succumbed to the power of application; I have dispensed with my para-tic cane; the callosities on my chin and nose have vanished; and I can walk without carrying my head in the air. This advance has not been made without a struggle, without moments of discouragement; but I have emerged victorious, strong in my knowledge of the resources of my will… To tell the truth, at my age I can scarcely hope for an absolute cure. Were I only fifteen, such would be my ambition; but as I am, so shall I remain. I very much doubt whether I shall ever have the necessary perseverance to master all my tics, and I am too prone to imagine fresh ones; yet the thought no longer alarms me. Experience has shown the possibilities of control, and my tics have lost their terror. Thus have disappeared half my troubles.

The same sagacity that O. displayed in analysis of his tics has enabled him to grasp the principles of their subjugation. Notwithstanding that his guarded prognosis is evidence for his appreciation of the hindrance his peculiar mental constitution is to a complete cure, he has impartially put on record his definite progress towards health of body and mind.

Such, then, is the faithfully reported story of our model, such are his confessions.

During ten years' intercourse with sufferers from tic it has been our interest to analyse and reconstruct the pathogenic mechanism of their symptoms, and in the vast majority of cases it has been possible to determine the origin of the tics and to confirm the association with them of a peculiar mental state. We have thus been able to supplement earlier and weighty contributions to the subject by numerous suggestive instances, prominent among which is the case of O., whose spontaneous and impartial self-examination forms an invaluable clinical document. Its importance is enhanced by the fact that its observations are corroborated by a survey of other examples of the disease.

With commendable good-humour, keenness, and sincerity, O. has of his own accord plunged into the minutiæ of his malady, and exhibited a rare appreciation and precision in the scrutiny of his symptoms. The mere enumeration of them stamps the record as one of outstanding clinical importance, but it is the study of their pathogeny that is so fascinating. For a moment the doubt crossed our mind that O.'s explanations might be merely a reflex of information culled from scientific journals or of conversations with medical friends, but this is not so. He has been prevented by his profession both from cultivating a taste for and from devoting any leisure to psychological and physiological questions, while he evinces an actual antipathy to medical literature, fearful as he is of contracting disease. The point we are desirous of emphasising, therefore, is simply this: that the results of O.'s voluntary and unprejudiced self-examination are in perfect harmony with the declarations of our older patients and with the statements of the majority of those that have made a special study of the tics. For these reasons we have taken O. as the prototype of the tiqueur.