Part 21

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.

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[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.

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[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.

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[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.

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[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.

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[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.

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[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.

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[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.

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[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.

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[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.

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[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.

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[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.

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[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.]

With respect to the eyebrows, they may occasionally be seen to assume an oblique position in persons suffering from deep dejection or anxiety; for instance, I have observed this movement in a mother while speaking about her sick son; and it is sometimes excited by quite trifling or momentary causes of real or pretended distress. The eyebrows assume this position owing to the contraction of certain muscles (namely, the orbiculars, corrugators, and pyramidals of the nose, which together tend to lower and contract the eyebrows) being partially checked by the more powerful action of the central fasciæ of the frontal muscle. These latter fasciæ, by their contraction, raise the inner ends alone of the eyebrows; and, as the corrugators at the same time draw the eyebrows together, their inner ends become puckered into a fold or lump. The eyebrows are at the same time somewhat roughened, owing to the hairs being made to project. Dr. J. Crichton Browne has also often noticed, in melancholic patients who keep their eyebrows persistently oblique, “a peculiar acute arching of the upper eyelid.” The acute arching of the eyelids depends, I believe, on the inner end alone of the eyebrows being raised; for, when the whole eyebrow is elevated and arched, the upper eyelid follows in a slight degree the same movement.