_FRIGHT AND TERROR_
I
One of the most terrible effects of fear is the paralysis which allows
neither of escape nor defence.
The history of battles and massacres, the chronicles of the courts of
justice, are full of frightful occurrences when terror strangled even
the instinct of flight in the victim.
But how does it happen that under the influence of a powerful emotion
the empire of the will over the muscles ceases, and the energy for
defence fails?
If we study the phenomena of sleep, we can easily imagine that there
are links between the centres of the will and the muscles which may, in
certain circumstances, be severed. We all know what nightmare is; we
all remember the oppression we have suffered when, in a dream, we have
felt ourselves suffocating under an immovable weight on the chest, or
from a noose round the throat which we cannot unloose. These dreams, in
which we feel ourselves paralysed, are a positive torture; the ground
gives way under us and we are precipitated into an abyss; we fall while
being pursued and cannot get up again; we find ourselves stretched out
in the middle of the street and hear the approaching roll of wheels
that will crush us, or see a horse gallop up to trample us with its
hoofs. We cannot even scream, hands and feet try in vain to move, the
oppression and despair increase until the nightmare passes and we awake
with beating heart and laboured breath.
Women and children overcome by violent fear turn their back, cover
their eyes with their hands, or creep into a corner without looking
behind them. In terror even the most intrepid men do not think of
flight; it seems as though the nerves of defence were severed and they
were left to their fate. Even in slight emotions we notice a partial
failure of the power of the will over the muscles of the hand. Anyone
weeping bitterly or laughing heartily cannot steady the pen between the
fingers, and the writing is altered.
Whytt noticed that after the head is cut off an animal, its
excitability increases greatly after the lapse of a few minutes. The
electric stimuli applied to the skin of the trunk immediately after
decapitation do not produce any movement of reaction, but a few minutes
later the same electric current causes vigorous movements of the legs.
This unexpected phenomena gave rise to the belief that there were
mechanisms in the spinal cord which, when irritated by the violent
blow of the axe, were capable of arresting the reflex movements. But
there are many other experiments which lead us rather to suspect the
existence in the nerve-centres of some mechanism which, in certain
conditions, nullifies the power of the will over the muscles.
Anyone who has tritons in an aquarium can try the experiment of
seizing hold of one by the leg with a pair of pincers; he will see
that it remains motionless, almost rigid, for a few minutes. Frogs,
when suffering a strong irritation of the sensory nerves, are no
longer capable of making a single movement. There are also many
other experiments which show us how, under the influence of violent
and supernormal excitation, the molecular work of the cells of the
spinal cord, requisite for the production of muscular movement through
voluntary stimuli, is impeded.
II
Horses tremble when they see a tiger, and are no longer able to run.
Even monkeys cannot move when in great fear. The gibbons, the most
agile of all monkeys, when taken by surprise on the ground, passively
allow themselves to be bound by man. Seals become so agitated when
surprised and pursued on shore, that they fall at every step, snort,
tremble, and cannot defend themselves.
I quote a passage taken from Brehm’s 'Animal Life,’ in order to show
in what an ignoble way man makes use of the disastrous effects
which fright produces. Seals are very intelligent animals, and so
good-tempered, that on lonely islands they look with the utmost
indifference at travellers arriving there, and such is their trust,
that they tranquilly allow them to pass or stop in their midst, while
they sun themselves on the shore. But as soon as they learn from sad
experience to know this terrible destroyer of animals, they become so
cautious that they are with difficulty approached or surprised out of
the water.
'To the south of Santa Barbara, in California, there is a plateau,
rising about thirty metres above the level of the sea, which is a
favourite place of repose with the seals. As soon as the boats were
lowered, the animals descended from the plateau and plunged into
the sea, where they stayed till all danger was over and the crew
reassembled on board. The attempt to surprise them was repeatedly
made without success, until one day, when a fresh wind was blowing
from the plateau towards the ship, and a thick fog afforded effectual
concealment. The crew landed at a certain distance, and, keeping
to leeward, crept cautiously up to the herd, then rushed suddenly
upon them, shouting noisily and brandishing guns, clubs, and spears.
Overwhelmed with fear, with staring eyes, their tongues hanging out of
their open mouths, the poor animals remained motionless, petrified,
until at last the oldest and most courageous males tried to break
through the line of destroyers who closed the way towards the sea. But
they were killed before they reached the water, the crew then slowly
approaching the others, which retreated just as slowly. An attack of
this kind soon becomes a butchery, because the poor animals lose all
hope of escape, and abandon themselves helplessly to their fate. This
herd numbered seventy-five seals, and when all had been killed with
clubs and spears but one single animal, the crew thought to try whether
it would allow itself to be driven on without resistance. Forced on
by its cruel persecutors, the poor creature moved as well as it could
over the thorns and undergrowth, until at last, wounded and bleeding,
it stopped, stretched out its fins full of thorns to the sailors, as
though to move them to pity and beg for mercy. A blow from a club on
its head put an end to its sufferings.’[30]
[30] Brehm: _Thierleben_, vol. iii. 1883, p. 601.
And this is Man!
III
Fear is more manifest in birds than in any other animal. We sometimes
see jugglers, as a proof of their magic power, take a little bird in
their hand and lay it on its back, showing that it no longer moves,
although it might easily fly away. This is an old experiment which was
studied by the celebrated Jesuit Athanasius Kirchner, professor in the
Roman College, who published a book in 1646 with the strange title
of '_Ars magna lucis et umbræ_.’ In the chapter '_De imaginatione
gallinæ_,’ he describes the following experiment: If the feet of a hen
are tied together, and she is then laid upon the floor, she will at
first try to free herself by moving her body and flapping her wings,
but when she perceives that all attempts are vain, she remains quiet.
If, as soon as she is motionless, a line is drawn on the floor with a
piece of chalk, beginning near her eye, the bird will not try to escape
even after the feet are loosed, nor even when she is coaxed to move.
Many of us, when boys, have captured a hen, screamed into her ear, and
then, having put her head under her wing, have laid her breast upwards
on the table, saying that she was asleep.
This trick, known I believe in many countries, may be considered
as another form of the _experimentum mirabile_ of Kirchner. No
physiologist had occupied himself with this phenomenon until Czermak,
in a treatise presented to the Academy of Sciences of Vienna in
1872, maintained that it arose from an hypnotic state, or momentary
somnolence. But this hypothesis does not explain why the breathing is
laboured, the eyes staring, why the animals are unable to move even
when touched, nor why their comb and wittles are so pale, which is not
the case in sleep.
Preyer was the first to declare that these effects are due to fright,
and as there was no word in the German language expressing the
condition of a man overcome with fright, who is incapable of speaking,
moving, or thinking, he called it _cataplexy_.[31] From his work
bearing this title I extract a few observations.
Of all mammals guinea-pigs are most susceptible to fright. Simply
taking hold of them, and keeping them a moment in the hand without any
pressure, is often sufficient to paralyse them with fear. Guinea-pigs
may remain half an hour in this state, rabbits not more than ten
minutes, while frogs will remain for hours without moving. It is
impossible that this interval be spent in sleep, for the animals
expel fæces and urine. Kirchner maintained the necessity of drawing
a white line from the beak of the animal, so that it should imagine
itself bound by this mark; but this is not true, as they remain just
as motionless without the line, and cataplexy is even more easily
produced when the animal sees nothing. Crabs taken out of the water
allow themselves to be put into the strangest positions, and remain
for a long time motionless. Preyer made similar experiments on frogs
and mice.[32] Some serpents remain rigid when their head is slightly
pressed, as Moses is said to have done before Pharaoh.
[31] From [Greek: kataplêx], [Greek: êgos], frightened.
[32] W. Preyer: _Die Kataplexie_. Jena, 1878.
To produce this state a sudden, unexpected agitation is necessary;
it is a matter of indifference in what way the animal is treated,
as all depends on the violent fright caused. A similar condition
has been observed in men struck by lightning and in animals after
electrical discharges from a powerful machine. Many birds, though
scarcely wounded by small shot, fall to the ground as though struck
by lightning, panting, with wide-open eyes, and remaining motionless
when placed on their back. This also is an instance of the cataplectic
condition, for, as their wound is not mortal, nor even serious, they
recover soon afterwards.
Some animals and many insects remain for a long time motionless when
danger threatens. To one of these zoologists have given the name
of _anobium_, as though it feigned death when touched. Many other
coleoptera act in the same way, not even moving when they are caught,
transfixed with a pin, and roasted over a flame. Preyer justly remarks
that this cannot be a feint, nor an instinct which tells them to
preserve the appearance of death as a means of saving their life; for
it would then be incomprehensible that they should let themselves be
burnt alive rather than abandon the deception.
Certainly an animal that does not move can more easily escape from
an enemy. Darwin remarks that when an animal is alarmed, it stops an
instant to collect its senses and discover the source of the danger,
and decide whether it should escape or defend itself; but this is
certainly not the origin and reason of the phenomena of cataplexy and
fear, which we must consider as a serious imperfection in the animal
organism.
The phenomena which we are at present investigating find a counterpart
in the story of the Medusa petrifying those who looked upon her, in
the legend of the basilisk that could kill with a look, and of the
serpent that caused death to mortals by hissing. One of these legends
holds its ground to the present day, namely, that the breath of
serpents is poisonous, and that they have a magic power in their look
which attracts and fascinates their prey. But this is not correct,
these also are cataplectic phenomena. When defenceless birds see a
serpent approach their nest, they begin to scream and flap their wings,
as though trying to draw its attention upon themselves, and so to save
their young. Blinded by love and emotion they rush upon the enemy and
then remain as though paralysed, scarcely moving wings or claws, or
else they let themselves fall into the jaws of the serpent and are
devoured.
IV
It is well-known that fear may result in sudden death. Bichat
maintained that it was essentially paralysis of the heart which causes
death in strong emotions. 'The forces of the circulatory system,’ he
says, 'are worked up to such a pitch that they cannot recover from the
sudden exhaustion, and death ensues.’
Old people in particular are liable to succumb to strong mental
emotions. This fact stands in apparent contradiction to that of their
sensibility, which is generally much less acute than in youth, but it
is the weakness of their nervous system which destroys the balance.
Often after great catastrophes parents succumb in consequence of the
death of their children, while the brothers and sisters offer more
resistance to grief.
Marcello Donato and Paolo Giovio relate that at the siege of Buda, in
the war against the Turks, there was a youth whose valour excited the
admiration of all. Unhappily he fell a victim to the repeated attacks
of the besiegers. When the battle was over, the leaders hastened to
learn who the hero was. Scarcely had the visor been taken from his face
than Raischach of Swabia recognised his son. He stood motionless, his
eyes fixed upon his son, then fell dead to the ground without uttering
a word.
As a proof that weakness more easily causes death in emotion, I here
mention an experiment of Johannes Müller. He destroyed the liver of
some frogs, thus rendering them very weak and excitable. The slightest
stimuli produced contractions in them, but they did not move if left in
peace, and even lived for a long time. Those he took into his hand were
immediately attacked by tetanus and died in a few seconds.
Haller tells of a man who, in stepping over a grave, imagined himself
seized by the foot, and died the same day; others have died from
fear on the day predicted as the day of their death, and some have
fallen down dead at the moment they were condemned to death. Haller
had already noticed that fear could arrest the action of the heart
and profoundly modify the circulation of the blood: _hæmorrhagias
supprimit, et menses, et lac, viresque ad venerem necessarias frangit_.
Surgeons well know how fatal a violent shock to the nervous system
from traumatic or moral causes may prove to their patients. In such
cases the medulla oblongata is so depressed in its activity that
chloroformisation is sufficient to arrest the action of the heart and
respiration. Porta, the great surgeon of the University of Pavia,
when his patients died under an operation, used to throw his knife
and instruments contemptuously to the ground, and shout in a tone of
reproach to the corpse: '_Cowards die from fear_.’
My friend Lauder Brunton, professor of medicine at the hospital of
Saint Bartholomew, in London, published the following fact a few
years ago.[33] An assistant had made himself odious to the students
of a certain college; a body of them, therefore, resolved to give
him a fright. They put ready a block and an axe in a dark room, then
seized the man and led him before a few students dressed in black, who
officiated as judges. When he saw these preparations he took it for a
joke, but the students assured him that all was meant in earnest, and
that he must prepare for death, for he should presently be beheaded.
They bound his eyes, forced him to his knees, and bent his head on
the block. While one of them made a noise by brandishing the axe, as
though to strike the fatal blow, another struck his neck with a wet
towel.
[33] Lauder Brunton: _On the Pathology and Treatment of Shock and
Syncope_, p. 8.
When they took the bandage from his eyes he was dead!
V
One of the greatest physiologists of fear was Edgar Allan Poe, the
unhappy poet who lived in morbid hallucinations, and died at the age
of thirty-seven in a hospital, a victim to intemperance, amidst the
horrors and convulsions of _delirium tremens_.
No one has ever described fear more minutely, none have so ruthlessly
analysed, or made us feel with more intensity, the pain of overwhelming
emotions--the throbbing which seems to burst the heart and crush the
soul, the suffocating oppression, the awful agony of him who awaits
death. No one ever plunged the mind of man into more horrible abysses,
or led it into darker, gloomier wildernesses. None have ever inspired
such horror with storm, tempest, the phosphorescence of decay, the
lightning-flashes in the dead of night, the sighs and moans losing
themselves in the darkness, the grip of fleshless hands amid the
mystery of graves and ruins.
Who can forget those midnight terrors, those streaks of lurid light,
those faint footfalls in the dark which make us shudder, those murders
which paralyse the limbs, the groans, the strangled cries from the
depths of a soul in agony? And those pulsations of the heart, deep,
rapid, restrained, sending forth, like a muffled bell, a dull sound
which spreads in the silence of the night, beating, throbbing even
after death? How useless becomes even the courage of despair before
these motionless spectres which fill us with terror! And the tortures
and horrors for which words fail us, which still the heart, close the
staring eye and numb the trembling limbs, stretch us senseless on this
rack of fright and kill us with agony!