upon will, we feel confident, arrest the attention of those who have
learned the great fact that Nature often throws the strongest light upon
her laws by the apparent exceptions and anomalies which from time
to time are observed. We have done with the lusus naturae of earlier
generations. We pay little attention to the stories of 'miracles,'
except so far as we receive them ready-made at the hands of the churches
which still hold to them. Not the less do we meet with strange and
surprising facts, which a century or two ago would have been handled by
the clergy and the courts, but today are calmly recorded and judged by
the best light our knowledge of the laws of life can throw upon them.
It must be owned that there are stories which we can hardly dispute,
so clear and full is the evidence in their support, which do,
notwithstanding, tax our faith and sometimes leave us sceptical in spite
of all the testimony which supports them.
“In this category many will be disposed to place the case we commend to
the candid attention of the Academy. If one were told that a young man,
a gentleman by birth and training, well formed, in apparently perfect
health, of agreeable physiognomy and manners, could not endure the
presence of the most attractive young woman, but was seized with deadly
terror and sudden collapse of all the powers of life, if he came into
her immediate presence; if it were added that this same young man did
not shrink from the presence of an old withered crone; that he had a
certain timid liking for little maidens who had not yet outgrown the
company of their dolls, the listener would be apt to smile, if he did
not laugh, at the absurdity of the fable. Surely, he would say, this
must be the fiction of some fanciful brain, the whim of some romancer,
the trick of some playwright. It would make a capital farce, this idea,
carried out. A young man slighting the lovely heroine of the little
comedy and making love to her grandmother! This would, of course, be
overstating the truth of the story, but to such a misinterpretation
the plain facts lend themselves too easily. We will relate the leading
circumstances of the case, as they were told us with perfect simplicity
and frankness by the subject of an affection which, if classified, would
come under the general head of Antipathy, but to which, if we give it a
name, we shall have to apply the term Gynophobia, or Fear of Woman.”
Here follows the account furnished to the writer of the paper, which is
in all essentials identical with that already laid before the reader.
“Such is the case offered to our consideration. Assuming its
truthfulness in all its particulars, it remains to see in the first
place whether or not it is as entirely exceptional and anomalous as it
seems at first sight, or whether it is only the last term of a series
of cases which in their less formidable aspect are well known to us
in literature, in the records of science, and even in our common
experience.
“To most of those among us the explanations we are now about to give are
entirely superfluous. But there are some whose chief studies have been
in different directions, and who will not complain if certain facts are
mentioned which to the expert will seem rudimentary, and which hardly
require recapitulation to those who are familiarly acquainted with the
common text-books.
“The heart is the centre of every living movement in the higher animals,
and in man, furnishing in varying amount, or withholding to a greater
or less extent, the needful supplies to all parts of the system. If its
action is diminished to a certain degree, faintness is the immediate
consequence; if it is arrested, loss of consciousness; if its action
is not soon restored, death, of which fainting plants the white flag,
remains in possession of the system.
“How closely the heart is under the influence of the emotions we need
not go to science to learn, for all human experience and all literature
are overflowing with evidence that shows the extent of this relation.
Scripture is full of it; the heart in Hebrew poetry represents the
entire life, we might almost say. Not less forcible is the language of
Shakespeare, as for instance, in 'Measure for Measure:'
“'Why does my blood thus muster to my heart,
Making it both unable for itself
And dispossessing all my other parts
Of necessary fitness?'
“More especially is the heart associated in every literature with the
passion of love. A famous old story is that of Galen, who was called to
the case of a young lady long ailing, and wasting away from some cause
the physicians who had already seen her were unable to make out. The
shrewd old practitioner suspected that love was at the bottom of the
young lady's malady. Many relatives and friends of both sexes, all of
them ready with their sympathy, came to see her. The physician sat by
her bedside during one of these visits, and in an easy, natural way took
her hand and placed a finger on her pulse. It beat quietly enough until
a certain comely young gentleman entered the apartment, when it suddenly
rose in frequency, and at the same moment her hurried breathing,
her changing color, pale and flushed by turns, betrayed the profound
agitation his presence excited. This was enough for the sagacious Greek;
love was the disease, the cure of which by its like may be claimed as an
anticipation of homoeopathy. In the frontispiece to the fine old 'Junta'
edition of the works of Galen, you may find among the wood-cuts
a representation of the interesting scene, with the title Amantas
Dignotio,--the diagnosis, or recognition, of the lover.
“Love has many languages, but the heart talks through all of them. The
pallid or burning cheek tells of the failing or leaping fountain which
gives it color. The lovers at the 'Brookside' could hear each other's
hearts beating. When Genevieve, in Coleridge's poem, forgot herself, and
was beforehand with her suitor in her sudden embrace,
“'T was partly love and partly fear,
And partly 't was a bashful art,
That I might rather feel than see
The swelling of her heart'
“Always the heart, whether its hurried action is seen, or heard, or
felt. But it is not always in this way that the 'deceitful' organ treats
the lover.
“'Faint heart never won fair lady.'
“This saying was not meant, perhaps, to be taken literally, but it
has its literal truth. Many a lover has found his heart sink within
him,--lose all its force, and leave him weak as a child in his emotion
at the sight of the object of his affections. When Porphyro looked upon
Madeline at her prayers in the chapel, it was too much for him:
“'She seemed a splendid angel, newly drest,
Save wings, for heaven:--Porphyro grew faint,
She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from earthly taint.'
“And in Balzac's novel, 'Cesar Birotteau,' the hero of the story
'fainted away for-joy at the moment when, under a linden-tree, at
Sceaux, Constance-Barbe-Josephine accepted him as her future husband.'
“One who faints is dead if he does not 'come to,' and nothing is more
likely than that too susceptible lovers have actually gone off in this
way. Everything depends on how the heart behaves itself in these
and similar trying moments. The mechanism of its actions becomes an
interesting subject, therefore, to lovers of both sexes, and to all who
are capable of intense emotions.
“The heart is a great reservoir, which distributes food, drink, air, and
heat to every part of the system, in exchange for its waste material. It
knocks at the gate of every organ seventy or eighty times in a minute,
calling upon it to receive its supplies and unload its refuse. Between
it and the brain there is the closest relation. The emotions, which act
upon it as we have seen, govern it by a mechanism only of late years
thoroughly understood. This mechanism can be made plain enough to the
reader who is not afraid to believe that he can understand it.
“The brain, as all know, is the seat of ideas, emotions, volition. It is
the great central telegraphic station with which many lesser centres are
in close relation, from which they receive, and to which they transmit,
their messages. The heart has its own little brains, so to speak,--small
collections of nervous substance which govern its rhythmical motions
under ordinary conditions. But these lesser nervous centres are to a
large extent dominated by influences transmitted from certain groups of
nerve-cells in the brain and its immediate dependencies.
“There are two among the special groups of nerve-cells which produce
directly opposite effects. One of these has the power of accelerating
the action of the heart, while the other has the power of retarding or
arresting this action. One acts as the spur, the other as the bridle.
According as one or the other predominates, the action of the heart
will be stimulated or restrained. Among the great modern discoveries in
physiology is that of the existence of a distinct centre of inhibition,
as the restraining influence over the heart is called.
“The centre of inhibition plays a terrible part in the history of
cowardice and of unsuccessful love. No man can be brave without blood
to sustain his courage, any more than he can think, as the German
materialist says, not absurdly, without phosphorus. The fainting
lover must recover his circulation, or his lady will lend him her
smelling-salts and take a gallant with blood in his cheeks. Porphyro got
over his faintness before he ran away with Madeline, and Cesar Birotteau
was an accepted lover when he swooned with happiness: but many an
officer has been cashiered, and many a suitor has been rejected,
because the centre of inhibition has got the upper hand of the centre of
stimulation.
“In the well-known cases of deadly antipathy which have been recorded,
the most frequent cause has been the disturbed and depressing influence
of the centre of inhibition. Fainting at the sight of blood is one of
the commonest examples of this influence. A single impression, in a very
early period of atmospheric existence,--perhaps, indirectly, before that
period, as was said to have happened in the case of James the First
of England,--may establish a communication between this centre and the
heart which will remain open ever afterwards. How does a footpath across
a field establish itself? Its curves are arbitrary, and what we call
accidental, but one after another follows it as if he were guided by a
chart on which it was laid down. So it is with this dangerous transit
between the centre of inhibition and the great organ of life. If once
the path is opened by the track of some profound impression, that same
impression, if repeated, or a similar one, is likely to find the old
footmarks and follow them. Habit only makes the path easier to traverse,
and thus the unreasoning terror of a child, of an infant, may perpetuate
itself in a timidity which shames the manhood of its subject.
“The case before us is an exceptional and most remarkable example of the
effect of inhibition on the heart.
“We will not say that we believe it to be unique in the history of
the human race; on the contrary, we do not doubt that there have been
similar cases, and that in some rare instances sudden death has been
the consequence of seizures like that of the subject of this Report. The
case most like it is that of Colone Townsend, which is too well known to
require any lengthened description in this paper. It is enough to recall
the main facts. He could by a voluntary effort suspend the action of
his heart for a considerable period, during which he lay like one dead,
pulseless, and without motion. After a time the circulation returned,
and he does not seem to have been the worse for his dangerous, or
seemingly dangerous, experiment. But in his case it was by an act of the
will that the heart's action was suspended. In the case before us it
is an involuntary impulse transmitted from the brain to the inhibiting
centre, which arrests the cardiac movements.
“What is like to be the further history of the case?
“The subject of this anomalous affliction is now more than twenty years
old. The chain of nervous actions has become firmly established.
It might have been hoped that the changes of adolescence would have
effected a transformation of the perverted instinct. On the contrary,
the whole force of this instinct throws itself on the centre of
inhibition, instead of quickening the heart-beats, and sending the
rush of youthful blood with fresh life through the entire system to the
throbbing finger-tips.
“Is it probable that time and circumstances will alter a habit of
nervous interactions so long established? We are disposed to think that
there is a chance of its being broken up. And we are not afraid to say
that we suspect the old gypsy woman, whose prophecy took such hold of
the patient's imagination, has hit upon the way in which the 'spell,'
as she called it, is to be dissolved. She must, in all probability,
have had a hint of the 'antipatia' to which the youth before her was a
victim, and its cause, and if so, her guess as to the probable mode in
which the young man would obtain relief from his unfortunate condition
was the one which would naturally suggest itself.
“If once the nervous impression which falls on the centre of inhibition
can be made to change its course, so as to follow its natural channel,
it will probably keep to that channel ever afterwards. And this will, it
is most likely, be effected by some sudden, unexpected impression. If
he were drowning, and a young woman should rescue him, it is by no means
impossible that the change in the nervous current we have referred to
might be brought about as rapidly, as easily, as the reversal of the
poles in a magnet, which is effected in an instant. But he cannot be
expected to throw himself into the water just at the right moment
when the 'fair lady' of the gitana's prophecy is passing on the shore.
Accident may effect the cure which art seems incompetent to perform. It
would not be strange if in some future seizure he should never come back
to consciousness. But it is quite conceivable, on the other hand, that
a happier event may occur, that in a single moment the nervous polarity
may be reversed, the whole course of his life changed, and his past
terrible experiences be to him like a scarce-remembered dream.
“This is one, of those cases in which it is very hard to determine
the wisest course to be pursued. The question is not unlike that which
arises in certain cases of dislocation of the bones of the neck. Shall
the unfortunate sufferer go all his days with his face turned far round
to the right or the left, or shall an attempt be made to replace the
dislocated bones? an attempt which may succeed, or may cause instant
death. The patient must be consulted as to whether he will take the
chance. The practitioner may be unwilling to risk it, if the patient
consents. Each case must be judged on its own special grounds. We cannot
think that this young man is doomed to perpetual separation from the
society of womanhood during the period of its bloom and attraction. But
to provoke another seizure after his past experiences would be too much
like committing suicide. We fear that we must trust to the chapter
of accidents. The strange malady--for such it is--has become a second
nature, and may require as energetic a shock to displace it as it did
to bring it into existence. Time alone can solve this question, on which
depends the well-being and, it may be, the existence of a young man
every way fitted to be happy, and to give happiness, if restored to his
true nature.”
XX. DR. BUTTS REFLECTS.
Dr. Butts sat up late at night reading these papers and reflecting upon
them. He was profoundly impressed and tenderly affected by the entire
frankness, the absence of all attempt at concealment, which Maurice
showed in placing these papers at his disposal. He believed that his
patient would recover from this illness for which he had been taking
care of him. He thought deeply and earnestly of what he could do for him
after he should have regained his health and strength.
There were references, in Maurice's own account of himself, which
the doctor called to mind with great interest after reading his brief
autobiography. Some one person--some young woman, it must be--had
produced a singular impression upon him since those earlier perilous
experiences through which he had passed. The doctor could not help
thinking of that meeting with Euthymia of which she had spoken to him.
Maurice, as she said, turned pale,--he clapped his hand to his breast.
He might have done so if he had met her chambermaid, or any straggling
damsel of the village. But Euthymia was not a young woman to be looked
upon with indifference. She held herself like a queen, and walked like
one, not a stage queen, but one born and bred to self-reliance, and
command of herself as well as others. One could not pass her without
being struck with her noble bearing and spirited features. If she had
known how Maurice trembled as he looked upon her, in that conflict of
attraction and uncontrollable dread,--if she had known it! But what,
even then, could she have done? Nothing but get away from him as fast as
she could. As it was, it was a long time before his agitation subsided,
and his heart beat with its common force and frequency.
Dr. Butts was not a male gossip nor a matchmaking go-between. But he
could not help thinking what a pity it was that these two young persons
could not come together as other young people do in the pairing season,
and find out whether they cared for and were fitted for each other. He
did not pretend to settle this question in his own mind, but the thought
was a natural one. And here was a gulf between them as deep and wide
as that between Lazarus and Dives. Would it ever be bridged over? This
thought took possession of the doctor's mind, and he imagined all sorts
of ways of effecting some experimental approximation between Maurice and
Euthymia. From this delicate subject he glanced off to certain general
considerations suggested by the extraordinary history he had been
reading. He began by speculating as to the possibility of the personal
presence of an individual making itself perceived by some channel other
than any of the five senses. The study of the natural sciences teaches
those who are devoted to them that the most insignificant facts may lead
the way to the discovery of the most important, all-pervading laws of
the universe. From the kick of a frog's hind leg to the amazing triumphs
which began with that seemingly trivial incident is a long, a very long
stride if Madam Galvani had not been in delicate health, which was the
occasion of her having some frog-broth prepared for her, the world of
to-day might not be in possession of the electric telegraph and
the light which blazes like the sun at high noon. A common-looking
occurrence, one seemingly unimportant, which had hitherto passed
unnoticed with the ordinary course of things, was the means of
introducing us to a new and vast realm of closely related phenomena. It
was like a key that we might have picked up, looking so simple that it
could hardly fit any lock but one of like simplicity, but which should
all at once throw back the bolts of the one lock which had defied
the most ingenious of our complex implements and open our way into a
hitherto unexplored territory.
It certainly was not through the eye alone that Maurice felt the
paralyzing influence. He could contemplate Euthymia from a distance, as
he did on the day of the boat-race, without any nervous disturbance. A
certain proximity was necessary for the influence to be felt, as in the
case of magnetism and electricity. An atmosphere of danger surrounded
every woman he approached during the period when her sex exercises
its most powerful attractions. How far did that atmosphere extend, and
through what channel did it act?
The key to the phenomena of this case, he believed, was to be found in a
fact as humble as that which gave birth to the science of galvanism and
its practical applications. The circumstances connected with the very
common antipathy to cats were as remarkable in many points of view as
the similar circumstances in the case of Maurice Kirkwood. The subjects
of that antipathy could not tell what it was which disturbed their
nervous system. All they knew was that a sense of uneasiness,
restlessness, oppression, came over them in the presence of one of
these animals. He remembered the fact already mentioned, that persons
sensitive to this impression can tell by their feelings if a cat is
concealed in the apartment in which they may happen to be. It may be
through some emanation. It may be through the medium of some electrical
disturbance. What if the nerve-thrills passing through the whole system
of the animal propagate themselves to a certain distance without any
more regard to intervening solids than is shown by magnetism? A sieve
lets sand pass through it; a filter arrests sand, but lets fluids pass,
glass holds fluids, but lets light through; wood shuts out light, but
magnetic attraction goes through it as sand went through the sieve. No
good reasons can be given why the presence of a cat should not betray
itself to certain organizations, at a distance, through the walls of a
box in which the animal is shut up. We need not disbelieve the stories
which allege such an occurrence as a fact and a not very infrequent one.
If the presence of a cat can produce its effects under these
circumstances, why should not that of a human being under similar
conditions, acting on certain constitutions, exercise its specific
influence? The doctor recalled a story told him by one of his friends, a
story which the friend himself heard from the lips of the distinguished
actor, the late Mr. Fechter. The actor maintained that Rachel had no
genius as an actress. It was all Samson's training and study, according
to him, which explained the secret of her wonderful effectiveness on the
stage. But magnetism, he said,--magnetism, she was full of. He declared
that he was made aware of her presence on the stage, when he could not
see her or know of her presence otherwise, by this magnetic emanation.
The doctor took the story for what it was worth. There might very
probably be exaggeration, perhaps high imaginative coloring about it,
but it was not a whit more unlikely than the cat-stories, accepted as
authentic. He continued this train of thought into further developments.
Into this series of reflections we will try to follow him.
What is the meaning of the halo with which artists have surrounded the
heads of their pictured saints, of the aureoles which wraps them like
a luminous cloud? Is it not a recognition of the fact that these holy
personages diffuse their personality in the form of a visible emanation,
which reminds us of Milton's definition of light:
“Bright effluence of bright essence increate”?
The common use of the term influence would seem to imply the existence
of its correlative, effluence. There is no good reason that I can see,
the doctor said to himself, why among the forces which work upon the
nervous centres there should not be one which acts at various distances
from its source. It may not be visible like the “glory” of the painters,
it may not be appreciable by any one of the five senses, and yet it may
be felt by the person reached by it as much as if it were a palpable
presence,--more powerfully, perhaps, from the mystery which belongs to
its mode of action.
Why should not Maurice have been rendered restless and anxious by the
unseen nearness of a young woman who was in the next room to him, just
as the persons who have the dread of cats are made conscious of their
presence through some unknown channel? Is it anything strange that the
larger and more powerful organism should diffuse a consciousness of its
presence to some distance as well as the slighter and feebler one? Is
it strange that this mysterious influence or effluence should belong
especially or exclusively to the period of complete womanhood in
distinction from that of immaturity or decadence? On the contrary, it
seems to be in accordance with all the analogies of nature,--analogies
too often cruel in the sentence they pass upon the human female.
Among the many curious thoughts which came up in the doctor's mind was
this, which made him smile as if it were a jest, but which he felt very
strongly had its serious side, and was involved with the happiness or
suffering of multitudes of youthful persons who die without telling
their secret: