circumstances, independently of habit, and which seem to be due to
imitation or some sort of sympathy. Thus persons cutting anything with
a pair of scissors may be seen to move their jaws simultaneously with
the blades of the scissors. Children learning to write often twist
about their tongues as their fingers move, in a ridiculous fashion.
When a public singer suddenly becomes a little hoarse, many of those
present may be heard, as I have been assured by a gentleman on whom I
can rely, to clear their throats; but here habit probably comes into
play, as we clear our own throats under similar circumstances.
* * * * *
[Page 35.]
Reflex actions, in the strict sense of the term, are due to the
excitement of a peripheral nerve, which transmits its influence to
certain nerve-cells, and these, in their turn, excite certain muscles
or glands into action; and all this may take place without any
sensation or consciousness on our part, though often thus accompanied.
As many reflex actions are highly expressive, the subject must here
be noticed at some little length. We shall also see that some of them
graduate into, and can hardly be distinguished from, actions which have
arisen through habit. Coughing and sneezing are familiar instances of
reflex actions.
* * * * *
[Page 37.]
The conscious wish to perform a reflex action sometimes stops or
interrupts its performance, though the proper sensory nerves may be
stimulated. For instance, many years ago I laid a small wager with a
dozen young men that they would not sneeze if they took snuff, although
they all declared that they invariably did so; accordingly, they all
took a pinch, but, from wishing much to succeed, not one sneezed,
though their eyes watered, and all, without exception, had to pay me
the wager.
* * * * *
[Page 42.]
Dogs, when they wish to go to sleep on a carpet or other hard surface,
generally turn round and round and scratch the ground with their
fore-paws in a senseless manner, as if they intended to trample down
the grass and scoop out a hollow, as, no doubt, their wild parents did,
when they lived on open, grassy plains or in the woods.
THE PRINCIPLE OF ANTITHESIS.
[Expression of
the Emotions,
page 50.]
Certain states of the mind lead, as we have seen in the last chapter,
to certain habitual movements which were primarily, or may still be,
of service; and we shall find that, when a directly opposite state
of mind is induced, there is a strong and involuntary tendency to the
performance of movements of a directly opposite nature, though these
have never been of any service.
* * * * *
When a dog approaches a strange dog or man in a savage or hostile
frame of mind, he walks upright and very stiffly; his head is slightly
raised, or not much lowered; the tail is held erect and quite rigid;
the hairs bristle, especially along the neck and back; the pricked ears
are directed forward, and the eyes have a fixed stare. These actions
follow from the dog’s intention to attack his enemy, and are thus to a
large extent intelligible. As he prepares to spring with a savage growl
on his enemy, the canine teeth are uncovered, and the ears are pressed
close backward on the head; but with these latter actions we are not
here concerned. Let us now suppose that the dog suddenly discovers
that the man whom he is approaching is not a stranger, but his master;
and let it be observed how completely and instantaneously his whole
bearing is reversed. Instead of walking upright, the body sinks
downward or even crouches, and is thrown into flexuous movements; his
tail, instead of being held stiff and upright, is lowered and wagged
from side to side; his hair instantly becomes smooth; his ears are
depressed and drawn backward, but not closely to the head; and his lips
hang loosely. From the drawing back of the ears, the eyelids become
elongated, and the eyes no longer appear round and staring. It should
be added that the animal is at such times in an excited condition from
joy; and nerve-force will be generated in excess, which naturally
leads to action of some kind. Not one of the above movements, so
clearly expressive of affection, are of the least direct service to the
animal. They are explicable, as far as I can see, solely from being in
complete opposition or antithesis to the attitude and movements which,
from intelligible causes, are assumed when a dog intends to fight, and
which consequently are expressive of anger.
ORIGIN OF THE PRINCIPLE OF ANTITHESIS.
[Page 60.]
We will now consider how the principle of antithesis in expression has
arisen. With social animals, the power of intercommunication between
the members of the same community--and, with other species, between
the opposite sexes, as well as between the young and the old--is of
the highest importance to them. This is generally effected by means of
the voice, but it is certain that gestures and expressions are to a
certain extent mutually intelligible. Man not only uses inarticulate
cries, gestures, and expressions, but has invented articulate language;
if, indeed, the word _invented_ can be applied to a process completed
by innumerable steps, half-consciously made. Any one who has watched
monkeys will not doubt that they perfectly understand each other’s
gestures and expression, and to a large extent, as Rengger asserts,
those of man. An animal when going to attack another, or when afraid
of another, often makes itself appear terrible, by erecting its hair,
thus increasing the apparent bulk of its body, by showing its teeth, or
brandishing its horns, or by uttering fierce sounds.
As the power of intercommunication is certainly of high service to many
animals, there is no _a priori_ improbability in the supposition that
gestures manifestly of an opposite nature to those by which certain
feelings are already expressed should at first have been voluntarily
employed under the influence of an opposite state of feeling. The
fact of the gestures being now innate would be no valid objection to
the belief that they were at first intentional; for, if practiced
during many generations, they would probably at last be inherited.
Nevertheless, it is more than doubtful, as we shall immediately
see, whether any of the cases which come under our present head of
antithesis have thus originated.
With conventional signs which are not innate, such as those used by
the deaf and dumb and by savages, the principle of opposition or
antithesis has been partially brought into play. The Cistercian monks
thought it sinful to speak, and, as they could not avoid holding some
communication, they invented a gesture language, in which the principle
of opposition seems to have been employed. Dr. Scott, of the Exeter
Deaf and Dumb Institution, writes to me that “opposites are greatly
used in teaching the deaf and dumb, who have a lively sense of them.”
Nevertheless I have been surprised how few unequivocal instances can be
adduced. This depends partly on all the signs having commonly had some
natural origin; and partly on the practice of the deaf and dumb and of
savages to contract their signs as much as possible for the sake of
rapidity. Hence their natural source or origin often becomes doubtful,
or is completely lost; as is likewise the case with articulate language.
* * * * *
[Page 64.]
When a cat, or rather when some early progenitor of the species, from
feeling affectionate, first slightly arched its back, held its tail
perpendicularly upward and pricked its ears, can it be believed that
the animal consciously wished thus to show that its frame of mind
was directly the reverse of that when, from being ready to fight or
to spring on its prey, it assumed a crouching attitude, curled its
tail from side to side, and depressed its ears? Even still less can
I believe that my dog voluntarily put on his dejected attitude and
“_hot-house face_,” which formed so complete a contrast to his previous
cheerful attitude and whole bearing. It can not be supposed that he
knew that I should understand his expression, and that he could thus
soften my heart and make me give up visiting the hot-house.
Hence, for the development of the movements which come under the
present head, some other principle, distinct from the will and
consciousness, must have intervened. This principle appears to be that
every movement which we have voluntarily performed throughout our
lives has required the action of certain muscles; and, when we have
performed a directly opposite movement, an opposite set of muscles has
been habitually brought into play--as in turning to the right or to the
left, in pushing away or pulling an object toward us, and in lifting or
lowering a weight.
THE PRINCIPLE OF THE ACTION OF THE EXCITED NERVOUS SYSTEM ON THE BODY.
[Expression of
the Emotions,
page 66.]
The most striking case, though a rare and abnormal one, which can be
adduced of the direct influence of the nervous system, when strongly
affected, on the body, is the loss of color in the hair, which has
occasionally been observed after extreme terror or grief. One authentic
instance has been recorded, in the case of a man brought out for
execution in India, in which the change of color was so rapid that it
was perceptible to the eye.
Another good case is that of the trembling of the muscles, which is
common to man and to many, or most, of the lower animals. Trembling
is of no service, often of much disservice, and can not have been
at first acquired through the will, and then rendered habitual in
association with any emotion. I am assured by an eminent authority
that young children do not tremble, but go into convulsions, under
the circumstances which would induce excessive trembling in adults.
Trembling is excited in different individuals in very different
degrees, and by the most diversified causes--by cold to the surface,
before fever-fits, although the temperature of the body is then above
the normal standard; in blood-poisoning, delirium tremens, and other
diseases; by general failure of power in old age; by exhaustion after
excessive fatigue; locally from severe injuries, such as burns; and, in
an especial manner, by the passage of a catheter. Of all emotions, fear
notoriously is the most apt to induce trembling; but so do occasionally
great anger and joy. I remember once seeing a boy who had just shot
his first snipe on the wing, and his hands trembled to such a degree
from delight that he could not for some time reload his gun; and I have
heard of an exactly similar case with an Australian savage, to whom a
gun had been lent. Fine music, from the vague emotions thus excited,
causes a shiver to run down the backs of some persons.
* * * * *
[Page 69.]
When animals suffer from an agony of pain, they generally writhe about
with frightful contortions; and those which habitually use their
voices utter piercing cries or groans. Almost every muscle of the
body is brought into strong action. With man the mouth may be closely
compressed, or, more commonly, the lips are retracted, with the teeth
clinched or ground together.
* * * * *
[Page 75.]
The heart will be all the more readily affected through habitual
associations, as it is not under the control of the will. A man when
moderately angry, or even when enraged, may command the movements of
his body, but he can not prevent his heart from beating rapidly. His
chest will, perhaps, give a few heaves, and his nostrils just quiver,
for the movements of respiration are only in part voluntary. In like
manner, those muscles of the face which are least obedient to the will
will sometimes alone betray a slight and passing emotion. The glands,
again, are wholly independent of the will, and a man suffering from
grief may command his features, but can not always prevent the tears
from coming into his eyes. A hungry man, if tempting food is placed
before him, may not show his hunger by any outward gesture, but he can
not check the secretion of saliva.
* * * * *
[Page 77.]
With all, or almost all, animals, even with birds, terror causes the
body to tremble. The skin becomes pale, sweat breaks out, and the hair
bristles.
* * * * *
[Page 79.]
A physician once remarked to me, as a proof of the exciting nature
of anger, that a man when excessively jaded will sometimes invent
imaginary offenses, and put himself into a passion, unconsciously, for
the sake of reinvigorating himself; and, since hearing this remark, I
have occasionally recognized its full truth.
* * * * *
[Page 81.]
Exertion stimulates the heart, and this reacts on the brain, and aids
the mind to bear its heavy load.
XIII.
MEANS OF THE EXPRESSION OF THE EMOTIONS.
VOCAL ORGANS.
[Expression of
the Emotions,
page 83.]
With many kinds of animals, man included, the vocal organs are
efficient in the highest degree as a means of expression. We have seen
in the last chapter that, when the sensorium is strongly excited, the
muscles of the body are generally thrown into violent action; and,
as a consequence, loud sounds are uttered, however silent the animal
may generally be, and although the sounds may be of no use. Hares and
rabbits, for instance, never, I believe, use their vocal organs, except
in the extremity of suffering; as, when a wounded hare is killed by
the sportsman, or when a young rabbit is caught by a stoat. Cattle and
horses suffer great pain in silence, but when this is excessive, and
especially when associated with terror, they utter fearful sounds.
* * * * *
[Page 87.]
That animals utter musical notes is familiar to every one, as we may
daily hear in the singing of birds. It is a more remarkable fact
that an ape, one of the Gibbons, produces an exact octave of musical
sounds, ascending and descending the scale by half-tones; so that this
monkey, “alone of brute mammals, may be said to sing.” From this fact,
and from the analogy of other animals, I have been led to infer that
the progenitors of man probably uttered musical tones before they had
acquired the power of articulate speech; and that, consequently, when
the voice is used under any strong emotion, it tends to assume, through
the principle of association, a musical character.
ERECTION OF THE HAIR.
[Page 96.]
The enraged lion erects his mane. The bristling of the hair along
the neck and back of the dog, and over the whole body of the cat,
especially on the tail, is familiar to every one. With the cat it
apparently occurs only under fear; with the dog, under anger and fear;
but not, as far as I have observed, under abject fear, as when a dog is
going to be flogged by a severe gamekeeper. If, however, the dog shows
fight, as sometimes happens, up goes his hair. I have often noticed
that the hair of a dog is particularly liable to rise if he is half
angry and half afraid, as on beholding some object only indistinctly
seen in the dusk.
* * * * *
[Page 97.]
Birds belonging to all the chief orders ruffle their feathers when
angry or frightened. Every one must have seen two cocks, even quite
young birds, preparing to fight with erected neck-hackles; nor
can these feathers when erected serve as a means of defense, for
cock-fighters have found by experience that it is advantageous to trim
them. The male Ruff (_Machetes pugnax_) likewise erects its collar of
feathers when fighting. When a dog approaches a common hen with her
chickens, she spreads out her wings, raises her tail, ruffles all her
feathers, and, looking as ferocious as possible, dashes at the intruder.
* * * * *
[Page 105.]
Several kinds of snakes inflate themselves when irritated. The
puff-adder (_Clotho arietans_) is remarkable in this respect; but, I
believe, after carefully watching these animals, that they do not act
thus for the sake of increasing their apparent bulk, but simply for
inhaling a large supply of air, so as to produce their surprisingly
loud, harsh, and prolonged hissing sound.
ERECTION OF THE EARS.
[Page 111.]
The ears through their movements are highly expressive in many animals;
but in some, such as man, the higher apes, and many ruminants, they
fail in this respect. A slight difference in position serves to express
in the plainest manner a different state of mind, as we may daily see
in the dog; but we are here concerned only with the ears being drawn
closely backward and pressed to the head. A savage frame of mind is
thus shown, but only in the case of those animals which fight with
their teeth; and the care which they take to prevent their ears being
seized by their antagonists accounts for this position. Consequently,
through habit and association, whenever they feel slightly savage, or
pretend in their play to be savage, their ears are drawn back. That
this is the true explanation may be inferred from the relation which
exists in very many animals between their manner of fighting and the
retraction of their ears.
All the Carnivora fight with their canine teeth, and all, as far as I
have observed, draw their ears back when feeling savage.
A STARTLED HORSE.
[Expressions
of the
Emotions,
page 130.]
The actions of a horse when much startled are highly expressive. One
day my horse was much frightened at a drilling-machine, covered by a
tarpaulin, and lying on an open field. He raised his head so high that
his neck became almost perpendicular; and this he did from habit, for
the machine lay on a slope below, and could not have been seen with
more distinctness through the raising of the head; nor, if any sound
had proceeded from it, could the sound have been more distinctly heard.
His eyes and ears were directed intently forward; and I could feel
through the saddle the palpitations of his heart. With red, dilated
nostrils he snorted violently, and, whirling round, would have dashed
off at full speed, had I not prevented him. The distention of the
nostrils is not for the sake of scenting the source of danger, for,
when a horse smells carefully at any object and is not alarmed, he
does not dilate his nostrils. Owing to the presence of a valve in the
throat, a horse when panting does not breathe through his open mouth,
but through his nostrils; and these consequently have become endowed
with great powers of expansion. This expansion of the nostrils, as well
as the snorting, and the palpitations of the heart, are actions which
have become firmly associated during a long series of generations with
the emotion of terror; for terror has habitually led the horse to the
most violent exertion in dashing away at full speed from the cause of
danger.
MONKEY-SHINES.
[Page 142.]
Many years ago, in the Zoölogical Gardens, I placed a looking-glass
on the floor before two young orangs, who, as far as it was known,
had never before seen one. At first they gazed at their own images
with the most steady surprise, and often changed their point of view.
They then approached close and protruded their lips toward the image,
as if to kiss it, in exactly the same manner as they had previously
done toward each other, when first placed, a few days before, in the
same room. They next made all sorts of grimaces, and put themselves
in various attitudes before the mirror; they pressed and rubbed the
surface; they placed their hands at different distances behind it;
looked behind it; and finally seemed almost frightened, started a
little, became cross, and refused to look any longer.
When we try to perform some little action which is difficult and
requires precision, for instance, to thread a needle, we generally
close our lips firmly, for the sake, I presume, of not disturbing our
movements by breathing; and I noticed the same action in a young orang.
The poor little creature was sick, and was amusing itself by trying
to kill the flies on the window-panes with its knuckles; this was
difficult as the flies buzzed about, and at each attempt the lips were
firmly compressed, and at the same time slightly protruded.
WEEPING OF MAN AND BRUTE.
[Expression of
the Emotion,
page 153.]
Infants while young do not shed tears or weep, as is known to nurses
and medical men. This circumstance is not exclusively due to the
lachrymal glands being as yet incapable of secreting tears. I first
noticed this fact from having accidentally brushed with the cuff of
my coat the open eye of one of my infants, when seventy-seven days
old, causing this eye to water freely; and, though the child screamed
violently, the other eye remained dry, or was only slightly suffused
with tears. A similar slight effusion occurred ten days previously
in both eyes during a screaming-fit. The tears did not run over the
eyelids and roll down the cheeks of this child, while screaming
badly, when one hundred and twenty-two days old. This first happened
seventeen days later, at the age of one hundred and thirty-nine days.
A few other children have been observed for me, and the period of free
weeping appears to be very variable. In one case, the eyes became
slightly suffused at the age of only twenty days; in another, at
sixty-two days. With two other children, the tears did _not_ run down
the face at the ages of eighty-four and one hundred and ten days; but
in a third child they did run down at the age of one hundred and four
days. In one instance, as I was positively assured, tears ran down at
the unusually early age of forty-two days. It would appear as if the
lachrymal glands required some practice in the individual before they
are easily excited into action, in somewhat the same manner as various
inherited consensual movements and tastes require some exercise before
they are fixed and perfected. This is all the more likely with a habit
like weeping, which must have been acquired since the period when man
branched off from the common progenitor of the genus _Homo_ and of the
non-weeping anthropomorphous apes.
* * * * *
[Page 135.]
A woman, who sold a monkey to the Zoölogical Society, believed to
have come from Borneo (_Macacus maurus_ or _M. inornatus_ of Gray),
said that it often cried; and Mr. Bartlett, as well as the keeper
Mr. Sutton, have repeatedly seen it, when grieved, or even when much
pitied, weeping so copiously that the tears rolled down its cheeks.
* * * * *
[Page 155.]
A New Zealand chief “cried like a child because the sailors spoiled his
favorite cloak by powdering it with flour.” I saw in Tierra del Fuego
a native who had lately lost a brother, and who alternately cried with
hysterical violence, and laughed heartily at anything which amused him.
With the civilized nations of Europe there is also much difference
in the frequency of weeping. Englishmen rarely cry, except under the
pressure of the acutest grief; whereas, in some parts of the Continent,
the men shed tears much more readily and freely.
The insane notoriously give way to all their emotions with little
or no restraint; and I am informed by Dr. J. Crichton Browne that
nothing is more characteristic of simple melancholia, even in the male
sex, than a tendency to weep on the slightest occasions, or from no
cause. They also weep disproportionately on the occurrence of any real
cause of grief. The length of time during which some patients weep is
astonishing, as well as the amount of tears which they shed.
* * * * *
[Page 167.]
The Indian elephant is known sometimes to weep. Sir E. Tennent, in
describing those which he saw captured and bound in Ceylon, says some
“lay motionless on the ground, with no other indication of suffering
than the tears which suffused their eyes and flowed incessantly.”
Speaking of another elephant he says: “When overpowered and made fast,
his grief was most affecting; his violence sank to utter prostration,
and he lay on the ground, uttering choking cries, with tears trickling
down his cheeks.”
THE GRIEF-MUSCLES.
[Expression of
the Emotions,
page 180.]