and the countess of Bedford; to the first of whom he owns himself indebted for a great part of his education, and by the second he was for many years supported. His poems are very numerous and elegant; the most celebrated one is the PolyAlbion, a chorographical description of England, with its commodities, antiquities, and curiosities, in metre of twelve syllables; which he dedicated to prince Henry, by whose encouragement it was written; and, whatever may be thought of the poetry, his descriptions are allowed to be exact. He died in 1631; and was interred in Westminster Abbey among the poets, where his bust is to be seen with an epitaph by Ben Jonson.

DRAʼZEL, n. s. Perhaps corrupted from drossel, the scum or dross of human nature; or from Fr. droslesse, a whore. A low, mean, worthless wretch.

As the devil uses witches,

To be their cully for a space,

That, when the time 's expired, the drazels
For ever may become his vassals. Hudibras.
Sax.dræd,from
Goth. rædur, ter-

DREAD, n. s., v. a. & v. n.
DREAD'ER, n.s.

DREADFUL, adj.
DREAD FULLY, adv.
DREADFULNESS, n. s.
DREAD'LESS, adj.

ror; or, as Mr. Todd suggests, from Icel. and Goth. thra, sadDREAD'LESSNESS, n. 3. ness. Extreme fear, terror, awe; the cause of fear. The verb seems to be derived from the noun, and means to fear in a great degree; to be in fear: a dreader is one who lives in habitual dread: dreadful is terrible dreadless, without fear or dread; the derivatives correspond in meaning.

And Zacarye seynge was afrayed: and drede fel upon him. And the aungle sayde to him, Zacarye drede thou not for thy preier is herd.

Not scruynge at ighe as plesynge to symplenesse of herte dredinge the Lord. The fear of you, and the dread of upon every beast of the earth.

How dreadful is this place!

Let him be your dread.

Wiclif. men, but in Id. Col. iii. you, shall be Genesis ix. 2.

Genesis. Isaiah.

Every step I take is with hesitation; and every new reflection makes me dread an error and inconsistency in my reasoning.

*

Hume on the Human Understanding.

But slavery!-Virtue dreads it as her grave: Patience itself is meanness in a slave.

Cowper.

They build each other up with dreadful skill, As bastions set point blank against God's will; Enlarge and fortify the dread redoubt, Deeply resolved to shut a Saviour out. Rest,

Id.

ye wild storms, in the cave of your slumbers; How your dread howling a lover alarms! Wauken, ye breezes, row gently, ye billows, And waft my dear laddie ance mair to my arms. Burns.

Too high a sense cannot be entertained of the sacredness of an oath, and of the importance of the judicial office; and the most fatal consequences may be dreaded from accustoming jurymen to consider these matters with the profane levity with which their practice proves that they regard them.

Look back!

Sir S. Romilly.

Lo! where it comes like an eternity, As if to sweep down all things in its track, Charming the eye with dread,-a matchless cataract.

Byron.

that, while those dreams were passing through our minds, it never occurred to us that we were separated by sleep from the active world; except in those cases where we have a kind of double dream; i. e. when, after dreaming for some time, we dream that we have awaked from sleep, and told our dream. But during this second dream, and rehearsal of our former one, we are fully persuaded that we are awake, till, by awaking in reality, we are convinced that we were asleep all the time. We are also often observed to act and talk in dreaming, as if we were busily engaged in the intercourse of social life. 2. In dreaming we do not consider ourselves as witnessing or bearing a part in a fictitious scene; we seem not to be in a similar situation with the actors in a dramatic performance, or the spectators before whom they exhibit, but engaged in the business of real life. All the varieties of thought, that pass through our minds when awake, may also occur in dreams; all the images which imagination presents, in the former state, she is also able to call up in the latter; all the same emotions may be excited, and we are often actuated by equal violence of passion; none of the transactions, in which we are capable of engaging while awake, is impossible in dreams; in short, ou range of action and observation is equally wide in the one state as in the other; nay often more so; for we may dream of flying, walking upon waters, and performing actions which we can not perform when awake. 3. It is said that all men are not liable to dream. Dr. Beattie, in a very pleasing essay on this subject, relates, that he knew a gentleman who never dreamed except when his health was in a disordered state; and Locke mentions, that a person of his acquaintance was a stranger to dreaming till the twentysixth year of his age; when he began to dream in consequence of having a fever. These instances, however, are too few; and, besides, it does not appear that those persons had always attended, with the care of a philosopher making an experiment, to the circumstances of their sleep. They might dream, but not recollect their dreams on awaking; and they might both dream, and recollect their dreams immediately upon awaking, yet afterwards suffer them to slip out of their memory. But though it is by no means certain that any of the human race are, through the whole of life, absolute stangers to dreaming, yet it is well known that all men are not equally liable to dream. The same person dreams more or less at different times; and, as one person may be more exposed than another to those circumstances which promote this exercise of fancy, one person may therefore dream much oftener than another. The same diversity will naturally take place in this as in other accidents to which mankind are in general liable. 4. Though in dreams imagination appears to be free from all restraint, and indulges in the most wanton freaks, yet it is agreed that the imaginary transactions of the dreamer, if in health, generally bear some relation to his particular character in the world, his habits of action, and the circumstances of his life. The lover dreams of his mistress; the miser of his money; the philosopher renews his scientific researches in sleep with the same assi

duity as when awake; and the merchant returns to balance his books, and compute the profits of an adventure, when slumbering on nis pillow And not only do the general circumstances of a person's life influence his dreams, but his passions and habits are nearly the same when asleep as when awake. A person whose habits of life are virtuous does not in his dreams plunge into a series of crimes; nor are the vicious reformed, when they pass into this imaginary world. The choleric man finds himself offended by slight provocations in his dreams, as well as in his ordinary intercourse with the world, and a mild temper continues pacific in sleep. 5. The character of a person's dreams is influenced by his circumstances when awake in a still more unaccountable manner. Certain dreams usually arise in the mind after a person has been in certain situations. Dr. Beattie relates, that he once, after riding thirty miles in a high wind, passed a part of the succeeding night in dreams beyond description terrible. The state of a person's health, and the manner in which the vital functions are carried on, have a considerable influence in determining the character of dreams. After too full a meal, or after eating of an unusual sort of food, a person has dreams of a certain nature. 6. In dreaming, the mind for the most part carries on no intercourse through the senses with surrounding objects. Touch a person gently who is asleep, he feels not the impression. You may awake him by a smart blow; but, when the stroke is not sufficiently violent, he remains insensible of it. We speak softly beside a person asleep without fearing that he will overhear us. His eyelids are shut; and even though light should fall upon the eye-ball, yet still his powers of vision are not awakened to active exertion, unless the light be so strong as to rouse him from sleep. He is insensible both to sweet and to disagreeable smells. It is not easy to try whether his organs of taste retain their activity, without awaking him: yet, from analogy, it may be presumed that these too are inactive. With respect to the circumstances here enumerated, it is indifferent whether a person be dreaming or buried in deep sleep. Yet there is one remarkable fact concerning dreaming which may seem to contradict what has been here asserted. In dreams we are liable not only to speak aloud in consequence of the suggestions of imagination, but some persons even get up and walk about and engage in little enterprises, without awaking. Now, as we are in this instance so active, it seems that we cannot be then insensible of the presence of surrounding objects. The sleep-walker is really sensible, in a certain degree, of the presence of the objects around him; but he does not attend to them with all their circumstances, nor do they excite in him the same emotions as if he were awake. He feels no terror on the brink of a precipice; and, in consequence of being free from fear, he is also without danger in such a situation unless suddenly awoke. This is one of the most inexplicable phenomena of dreaming. There is another fact not quite consonant with what has been above advanced. It is said that, in sleep, a person will continue to hear the noise of a cataract in the neighbourhood, or regular strokes with a hammer, or any simila

sound sufficiently loud, and continued uninterruptedly from before the time of his falling asleep. And it is affirmed that he awakes on the sudden cessation of the noise. This fact is asserted on sufficient evidence: it is curious. Even when awake, if deeply intent on study, or closely occupied in business, the sound of a clock striking in the neighbourhood, or the beating of a drum, will escape us unnoticed; and it is therefore the more surprising that we should thus continue sensible to sounds when asleep. 7. Not only do a person's general character, habits of life, and state of health, influence his dreams; but those concerns in which he has been most deeply interested during the preceding day, and the views which have arisen most frequently to his imagination, very often afford the subjects of his dreams. When one looks forward with anxious expectation towards any future event, he is likely to dream either of the disappointment or the gratification of his wishes. If engaged through the day, either in business or amusements which he found exceedingly agreeable, or in a way in which he has been extremely unhappy, either his happiness or his misery is likely to be renewed in his dreams. 8. Though dreams have been regarded in almost all nations, at least in some periods of their history, as prophetic of future events, yet it does not appear that this popular opinion has been established on good grounds. Christianity, indeed, teaches us to believe that the Supreme Being may operate through this medium, and actually has operated on the human mind; and influenced at time the determinations of the will; as he did to Abimelech, Gen. xx. 3-6, and to Joseph, Matt. i. 20, and ii. 19, 22. The dreams of Joseph and Pharaoh; of his chief butler and baker; of Nebuchadnezzar and the prophet Daniel, &c., are also decisive on this point. Yet it is perfect folly to confound such miraculous dreams with those which the priest hood among heathen nations, or the vulgar among ourselves, have considered as prophetic. We know how easily ignorance imposes on itself, and what arts imposture adopts to impose upon others. We cannot trace any certain connexion between our dreams and those events to which the simplicity of the vulgar pretends that they refer. And we cannot, therefore, join with the vulgar and the superstitious in believing them really referrible to futurity. 9. It appears that brutes are also capable of dreaming. The dog is often observed to start suddenly up in his sleep, in a manner which cannot be accounted for any other way than by supposing that he is roused by some impulse received in a dream. The same thing is observable of other brutes. That they should dream, is not an idea inconsistent with what we know of their economy and manners in general. We may, therefore, consider it as a pretty certain truth that many, if not all, of the inferior animals are liable to dream, as well as human beings. It appears, then, that in dreaming we are not conscious of being asleep; that to a person dreaming, his dreams seem realities: that though it be uncertain whether mankind are all liable to dreams, yet it is well known that they are not all equally liable to dream that the nature of a person's dreams depends in

some measure on his habits of action, and on the circumstances of his life: that the state of the health too, and the manner in which the vital functions are carried on, have a powerful influence in determining the character of a person's dreams that in sleep, and in dreaming, the senses are either absolutely inactive or nearly so: that such concerns as we have been very deeply interested in during the preceding day, are very likely to return upon our minds in dreams in the hours of rest: that dreams may be rendered prophetic of future events; and therefore, wherever we have such evidence of their having been prophetic as we would accept on any other occasion, we cannot reasonably reject the fact as absurd but that they do not appear to have been actually such, in those numerous instances in which the superstition of nations, ignorant of true religion, has represented them as referring to futurity, nor in those instances in which they are viewed in the same light by many among ourselves. and, lastly, that dreaming is not a phenomenon peculiar to human nature, but common to mankind with the brutes.

;

We know of no other facts, that have been ascertained concerning dreaming, besides the above. But we are by no means sufficiently acquainted with this important phenomenon in the history of mind. We cannot tell by what laws of our constitution we are thus liable to be so frequently engaged in imaginary transactions, nor what are the particular means by which the delusion is accomplished. The delusion is indeed remarkably strong. One will sometimes fancy that he reads a book, and actually enter into the nature of the imaginary composition before him, and even remember, after he awakes, what he then knows, that he only fancied himself reading. Another will sometimes dream that he is at church, and hears a sermon delivered, which he would be incapable of composing when awake. Can this he delusion? If delusion, how, or for what purpose, is it produced? The mind, it would appear, does not, in sleep, become inactive like the body; or at least is not always inactive while we are asleep. When we do not dream, the mind must either be inactive, or the connexion between the mind and the body must be considered as in some manner suspended: and when we dream, the mind, though it probably acts in concert with the body, yet does not act in the same manner as when we are awake. It seems to be clouded or bewildered, in consequence of being deprived for a time of the service of the senses. Imagination becomes more active and more capricious; and all the other powers, especially judgment and memory, become disordered and irregular in their operations.

Various theories have been proposed to explain what appears most inexplicable in dreaming. The ingenious Mr. Baxter, in his treatise on the Immateriality of the Human Soul, endeavours to prove that dreams are produced by the agency of some spiritual beings, who either amuse or employ themselves seriously in engaging mankind in all those imaginary transactions with which they are employed in dreaming. This theory, however, is far from being plausible. It leads us entirely beyond the limits of our know.

ledge. It requires us to believe without evidence. It is unsupported by any analogy. It creates difficulties still more inexplicable than those which it has been proposed to remove. Till it appear that our dreams cannot possibly be produced without the interference of other spiritual agents, possessing such influence over our minds as to deceive us with fancied joys, and involve us in imaginary afflictions, we cannot reasonably refer them to such a cause. Besides, from the facts which have been stated as well known concerning dreams, it appears that their nature depends both on the state of the human body and on that of the mind. But were they owing to the agency of other spiritual beings, how could they be influenced by the state of the body? Wolfius, and after him M. Formey, have supposed, that dreams never arise in the mind, except in consequence of some of the organs of sensation having been previously excited. Either the ear or the eye, or the organs of touching, tasting, or smelling, communicate information somehow, in a tacit, secret manner; and thus partly rouse its faculties from the lethargy in which they are buried in sleep, and engage them in a series of confused and imperfect exertions. But what passes in dreams is often so very different from all that we do when awake, that it is impossible for the dreamer himself to distinguish whether his powers of sensation per form any part on the occasion. It is not necessary that imagination be always excited by sensation. Fancy, even when we are awake, often wanders from the present scene. Absence of mind is incident to the studious: the poet and the mathematician often forget where they are. We cannot discover from any thing that a person in dreaming displays to the observation of others, that his organs of sensation take a part in the imaginary transactions in which he is employed. In those instances, indeed, in which persons asleep are said to hear sounds, the sounds which they hear are also said to influence, in some manner, the nature of their dreams. But such instances are singular. Since it then appears, that the person who dreams is himself incapable of distinguishing, either during his dreams or by recollection when awake, whether any new impressions are communicated to him in that state by his organs of sensation; that even by watching over him, and comparing our observations of his circumstances and emotions, in his dreams, with what he recollects of them after awaking, we cannot, except in one or two singular instances, ascertain this fact; and that the mind is not incapable of acting while the organs of sensation are at rest, and on many occasions refuses to listen to the information which they convey; we may conclude, that the theory is groundless. Other physiologists tell us, that the mind, when we dream, is in a state of delirium. Sleep, they say, is attended with what is called a collapse of the brain; during which either the whole or a part of the nerves of which it consists, are in a state in which they cannot carry on the usual intercourse between the mind and the organs of sensation. When the whole of the brain is in this state, we become entirely unconscious of existand the mind sinks into inactivity; when

ence

only a part of the orain is col apsed, we are then neither asleep nor awake, but in a sort of delirium between the two. This theory, like the last, supposes the mind incapable of acting without the help of sensation: it supposes that we know the nature of a state, of which we cannot ascertain the phenomena; it also contradicts a known fact, in representing dreams as confused images of things around us, not fanciful combinations of things not existing together in nature or in human life. We must treat it likewise, therefore, as a baseless fabric. In the second edition of the Encyclopædia Britannica, a theory different from any of the foregoing was advanced. It was observed, that the nervous fluid, which is supposed to be secreted from the blood by the brain, appears to be likewise absorbed from the blood by the extremities of the nerves. It was argued that, as this fluid was considered as the principle of sensibility, therefore, in all cases in which a sufficient supply of it was not absorbed from the blood by the extremities of the nerves, the parts of the body to which those nerves belonged must be, in some degree, deprived of sensation. From these positions it was inferred, that, as long as impressions of external objects continue to communicate a certain motion from the sentient extremities of the nerves to the brain, so long we continue awake; and that, when there is a deficiency of this vital fluid in the extremities of the nerves, or when from any other cause it ceases to communicate to the brain the peculiar motion alluded to, we must naturally fall asleep, and become insensible of our existence. It followed that, in sleep, the nervous fluid between the extreme parts of the nerves and the brain must either be at rest, or be deficient, or be prevented by some means from passing into the brain; and it was concluded, that whenever irregular motions of this fluid were occasioned by any internal cause, dreaming was produced. Thus we might be deceived with regard to the operation of any of the senses; so as to fancy that we see objects not actually before us that we hear sounds; that we taste, feel, smell, &c. The instances of visions which will sometimes arise, and as it were swim before us when awake, though our eyes be shut; the tinnitus aurium, which is often a symptom in nervous diseases; and the strange feelings in the case of the amputated limb, were produced in proof of this theory, and applied to confirm it.

Plausible as the above theory at first view may appear, it is not satisfactory. It is too much founded on supposition. The nature of the nervous fluid is but imperfectly known, and even its existence is not fully ascertained. All theories founded upon it must, therefore, be at best uncertain. Besides the suppositions made in this theory, of a partial privation and sensation, and efficiency of the vital fluid, as necessary to produce sleep, seem to infer that sleep is not consistent with a state of perfect health, which every body knows is contrary to fact. The Brunonian system of medicine appears to give rather a more satisfactory solution of the phenomena and causes of sleep, by ascribing them to the exhaustion of the excitability by the exciting powers. But, without trusting entirely to the