Part 6
This man, as his answers to the specialist's questions made clear, was actually of a splendid character and highly cultured. His one peculiarity was this dangerous obsession. Psychological analysis to trace its origin was undertaken, and led back to his childhood. It had, as the setting giving it force and keeping it alive, a deep-seated jealousy of his father, experienced before the age of seven. More specifically, it originated in a murderous wish, entertained one day when father and son were walking together, to push his father from a mountain-top into an abyss. The child had at once recognised that this wish was wicked. He had violently repressed it, had tried to forget it, and had seemingly succeeded in doing so. But in his neurotic subconsciousness it had remained alive, to incubate and grow, until it finally blossomed into the murderous and painfully persistent obsession against people in general.
Surely, it is worth while to watch for and eradicate jealousy in childhood. Surely, too, it is worth while to develop emotional control in your children while they still are very young, and to avoid giving reason for jealousy by showing a real neglect in satisfying their natural craving for sympathy and love. On the other hand, it is equally important to avoid being over-attentive to them. This, as brought out in detail in the second chapter, is the great danger to be feared when there is only one child in the family, the exuberance of the parental love filling the child with exaggerated ideas of his own importance that are sure to be rudely jostled when he comes into contact with other children.
From these other children, as from his school teachers and casual visitors to his home, he will unconsciously demand the adulation shown by his parents. Failing to receive it, jealousy is all too apt to seize him, and, out of jealousy, nervous symptoms or character kinks are a probable result--symptoms and kinks which may, perhaps, never be entirely overcome.
What, then, is the moral of all this? What practical suggestions may be made that will help parents to cope with the problem of children's jealousy? For one thing, and most important, there must be no showing of favouritism, if you have more than one child. By your whole attitude towards your children you must make plain to them that each one ought to be, and is, equally dear to you. Of course, however, this does not mean that you should go to the foolish extreme of some parents, who carry the principle of equality so far as to give identical presents to their children. This does not serve as a corrective and preventive of jealousy; rather, it simply panders to it, and is, at bottom, a confession of helplessness on the parents' part.
The real need is to give your children a home environment of such a character that the instinct of human sympathy will be highly developed in them. Jealousy has its roots in selfishness, in an over-development of what may be called the ego-centric instinct. The jealous child is pre-eminently a child unduly occupied with thoughts of self. His personal desires and his personal interests are of paramount importance to him, just because he has not been taught that the one truly self-satisfying ideal of life is to find joy in bringing joy to others. To be sure, he cannot be taught this by direct instruction when he is very small. But indirectly, through the subtle force of suggestion, he can be taught it even then, if he is given a good parental example.
His parents themselves, not merely to prevent the budding of the sentiment of jealousy, but for the sake of the child's moral education in general, must set him an example of unselfishness. In their relations with each other, with their friends, with casual visitors to their home, they must maintain an altruistic, rather than an ego-centric, attitude. Showing true love for their child, they must--and this is especially necessary in the case of an only child--cause the child unconsciously to realise that he is not, and should not be, the sole object of their thoughts; that they have other interests, other duties in life. Unless he is constitutionally abnormal, a child brought up in such an atmosphere of general, self-forgetting kindliness is almost certain to acquire the same healthy philosophy of life that his parents have--a philosophy inimical to jealousy in every form.
As an aid to the same end, it is important to begin, at as early a time as possible, to train the child to occupy his mind actively with games and studies of educational significance. It is a fact which scarcely needs demonstration that the child in whom love of study and interest in subjects of study are developed at an early age will be a child unlikely to become unhealthily occupied with thoughts of himself. He will have too many and too strong external interests to have either time or desire for morbid self-communing.
In fine, you may set this down as certain: the more you inspire in your children external interests in play and work, doing this partly by direct teaching and partly by setting them an example of industrious activity, the less reason you will have to fear that they will fall victims to the handicap of jealousy or to the nervous maladies resultant from any form of excessive preoccupation with thoughts of self.
If, however, despite your best efforts, your child does develop jealous characteristics in marked degree, the safest and wisest thing you can do is to take him at once to a good specialist in the treatment of mental and nervous troubles. It may be that the jealousy is only the resultant of some unsuspected error of his upbringing, but it may also be symptomatic of some serious disorder requiring careful medical treatment.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 7: In my "Psychology and Parenthood" pp. 223-227, will be found the details of a typical poltergeist performance.]
[Footnote 8: "Educational Problems," vol. i, p. 363.]
V
SELFISHNESS
"Jealousy," I stated a few pages back, "has its roots in selfishness, in an over-development of what may be called the ego-centric instinct." Aside from its role as a developer of jealousy, selfishness is indeed one of the major handicaps of childhood. Moralists have long urged on parents the importance of early training to prevent their children from becoming selfish. They have rightly pictured selfishness as among the greatest of human blemishes, giving character an ugly twist and making impossible that harmonious adjustment with other people which is indispensable to individual happiness and social progress. But it is not merely to be condemned from the moralist's point of view: it also is to be condemned from the physician's. Selfishness does much more than injure character: it may even ruin the health of those afflicted with it. To put the matter briefly, training against selfishness is imperative in early life, if only as a safeguard against the functional nervous and mental maladies so common to-day.
When parents fail to teach their children to control their emotions; when they foster in them exaggerated notions of their importance by giving way to the children in everything, being over-solicitous about them, performing duties for them which the children should early be taught to perform for themselves, selfishness is an almost inevitable outgrowth. The children, in addition, may become quite unfitted to cope with the stresses of existence. And they may further become so psychically disorganised that, if after a time they no longer find themselves always having their own way, there may develop nervous symptoms which not merely are the product of an inner emotional storm, but are strangely designed to fulfil the nervous one's latent wish to remain the centre of interest and influence. Or, more bluntly stated, nervous attacks frequently are sheer manifestations of selfishness. It is selfishness that gives rise to them, and, though the victim may not be at all conscious of the fact, they represent an abnormal effort of the personality to attain selfish ends.
This is not theory. It is an established truth, and is demonstrable from the case-histories of many nervous patients, adults and children alike. And, with increasing use of the most advanced methods of mental analysis, the influence of selfishness in causing nervous ailments is certain to become more widely appreciated than it is at present. Not that selfishness is the causal factor in all nervous cases. It would be absurdly false to assert anything of the kind, but the proportion of cases in which it does figure is astonishingly high. Parents need to know this; they need to recognise that failure to curb selfishness during the formative period of childhood may mean nervous wreckage, as well as the distorting of character. In the case of a child of so-called "nervous temperament"--a child, that is to say, who begins life with an unstable nervous organisation by reason of inherited weaknesses--nervous wreckage is almost certain to be the result of neglect to take precautions against the growth of selfishness. The full effects of parental neglect in this regard may not be visible for many years, but frequently they become disconcertingly evident while the child still is young. A case reported to me by a well-known American neurologist and psychopathologist is decidedly to the point in this connection, and may well be given in some detail.
It is the case of a girl of fourteen who was brought to the neurologist because of nervous symptoms which took the form of periods of anxiety and depression, alternating with outbreaks of great irritability. The girl, her mother stated, seemed to have lost interest in everything. At times she would sit mournfully weeping; at others, fall into a passion for no apparent reason. More than once she had declared that she wanted to die. She could not, or would not, give any explanation of this most singular behaviour.
Making a diagnosis of functional, rather than organic, disease, the neurologist resorted to dream-analysis to get at the hidden causes of trouble. At his request, the girl related several dreams, all of which had the noticeable peculiarity that in them the dreamer herself was, to an unusual extent, the dominant figure of the dream-action. Another striking feature of her dreams was that many of them had to do with imaginary experiences of a painful character befalling either the dreamer's father or her brother. Mindful of the theory that dreams are directly or indirectly representative of secret wishes, the neurologist questioned his little patient about her family life. She frankly admitted that she disliked her father, and was not overfond of her brother. She disliked the father--or, as she vehemently said, "hated" him--because he scolded her. Her coldness towards her brother arose from the fact that her mother had fallen into the habit of tactlessly holding him up as a model of good behaviour.
"I love my mother, though," she added, "because she is good to me, and generally lets me do what I want."
Summoning the mother to a private conference, the physician learned that, from early childhood, his patient had been very obstinate and self-willed. Her mother, through mistaken affection, had pampered her. She had literally made herself a slave to the daughter, even to the extent of giving up evening engagements that she might sit by her daughter's bed, gently stroking her head until she fell asleep.
"She cannot sleep unless I do this," said the mother, "and though I have lately tried to discontinue it, I cannot, because she cries and shrieks until I come to her."
To the neurologist the situation was now perfectly clear. The daughter's nervous symptoms were manifestly the not surprising reaction of a personality untrained in emotional control and unexpectedly confronted by a novel and painful state of affairs--the mother's half-hearted attempt to break away from her self-imposed slavery. However, it would hardly do to tell the mother that her early mismanagement of the child was responsible for the neurotic condition which had developed, and that this neurotic condition was, in reality, only a subconsciously originated device to reassert the daughter's waning authority over her mother. What the neurologist did say was:
"Madam, if you want your daughter to get well, you must at once stop this practice of stroking her to sleep. I must ask you to begin to-night. Send your daughter to her room, leave her in bed, shut and lock the door, and let her shriek. This may seem hard and cruel, but it is actually a greater kindness than a continuance of the stroking would be. It is, indeed, a first and necessary step in her cure."
The mother obeyed. For two nights the house resounded with the girl's cries. The third night she went to bed and to sleep without a protest. Then the physician once more sent for the mother.
"You are soon leaving town for the summer, I understand," he said. "What are you going to do with your daughter?"
"Why, take her with us, of course."
"You must do nothing of the sort. Instead, send her to a girls' camp. She needs contact with other girls; she needs the discipline such contact will give her. It is far and away the best medicine she can have. Her recovery depends solely on her developing a new point of view, a mental outlook that will extend beyond herself. This is what a good camp for girls can give her."
The outcome vindicated his words. That fall the nervously depressed girl came back from a summer in camp radiantly happy and with a vastly altered disposition. Since then her parents have had no trouble with her.
Please, however, understand clearly that she was really a sick girl when her mother took her to my neurological friend. It was not simply a question of dealing with a "naughty" girl. The depression, the tears, the attacks of irritability were not deliberately put on to excite sympathy and to play on the mother's affections. This assuredly was their basic purpose, but they were the product of subconscious, not conscious, mental action. They were the resultant of an emotional stress, the responsibility for which rested not with the girl herself but with her mother's unwise treatment of her. If she had become neurotic, it was because her mother had made her so. What she needed, and all she needed, was psychic re-education, and this she obtained through the neurologist's common-sense method of cure.
The fact that such cases are indicative, not of mere naughtiness, but of the action of an inner force operating independently of the victim's conscious volition, will become more apparent when I add that sometimes the symptoms causing medical aid to be invoked are physical instead of mental. In one typical case of this sort a neurologist was summoned to examine a small boy who had been attacked by a peculiar weakness of the legs. To all appearance, he was in perfect bodily health, but when he attempted to walk his legs gave way, and he would fall, unless quickly supported. The most careful testing failed to reveal any organic cause for this condition, and a diagnosis of juvenile hysteria was made. It was learned that the boy's trouble began soon after he had met in the street a badly crippled, semi-paralysed man, whose appearance had evidently made a deep impression on his mind, as he spoke of it, when he got home, in terms partly of astonishment and partly of fear. There could be no doubt that the sight of this man had acted as a "suggestion" to cause the development of a somewhat similar condition in the boy himself. The question remained, why should the mere seeing of a crippled man have sufficient suggestive force to bring on an hysterical crippling? For undoubtedly the boy must have had not a few equally distressing experiences long before this one.
On investigation it turned out that at the time he saw the cripple he was under considerable mental strain. A petted, spoiled child, he had rebelled against being sent to school. He would much rather stay home and play by himself or with his mother. His parents' desires in the matter were as nothing to him: it was what he wanted that was the important thing. For once, though, the parents insisted on being obeyed by their thoroughly selfish boy. He had to go to school, and go to school he did, until the hysterical paralysis set in. This paralysis, of course, was somewhat inconvenient, since it limited his opportunities for play, but it at least had the advantage of keeping him from attending the school that he detested. The boy himself was not in the slightest conscious of the part thus played by selfish wishing in the development of his diseased condition. He was really frightened at finding himself unable to stand and walk. Nevertheless, so strong was his antipathy against school that it was some time before the suggestion of paralysis was broken down by appropriate psychotherapeutic treatment.
Other cases even more extraordinary are recorded in medical annals. One "spoiled child," a little girl not five years old, had a series of convulsive attacks, following the unexpected refusal of her parents to grant a request that involved risk to her if they granted it. After the convulsions she was paralysed in her lower limbs, and the parents, terrified, called in an eminent specialist in nervous diseases. Fortunately, the specialist recognised almost at once that it was a case of hysterical paralysis, brought on by lack of discipline and lack of training in emotional control, and he obtained the parents' permission to isolate the little girl and treat her as he deemed best. His treatment was harsh, but exceedingly effective. For two days he starved the child, then put a bowl of bread and milk some distance from her bed. The suggestion of food was too strong for the suggestion of paralysis. Without further ado, she skipped nimbly out of bed and secured the bowl. But the specialist did not reproach her for being a naughty girl. His reproaches were for the parents, to whom he gave some greatly needed advice as to her future upbringing.
Hysterical pains, contractures, swellings, even hysterical blindness, have been observed in children who, after having been unduly indulged, feel that their father or mother, as the case may be, is no longer as attentive to and lenient with them as they would like. More frequently, under such conditions, the symptoms of nervousness are chiefly mental, or, if physical, are confined to muscular twitchings, slight involuntary movements of the face, head, hands, and similar manifestations. Unhappily, the true significance of these is often overlooked. They are thought to be defects which the child will "outgrow," and in many cases they certainly are outgrown, to all appearance. But, if the moral weaknesses underlying them--the self-centredness, the deficiency in emotional control--are not in the meantime corrected, at any crisis in adult life there is likely to result a nervous breakdown or a serious attack of hysteria. Indeed, in not a few cases of adult hysteria, the causal agency of selfishness is unmistakably in evidence to those accustomed to interpreting nervous symptoms. There are plenty of men and women whose chronic neuroticism is motivated by a subconscious craving to be the centre of attraction, or to be perpetually dominant in the family life. There are other unfortunates who, when their will is seriously crossed, take refuge, like the boys and girls just mentioned, in various forms of nervous disease. The curious experience of a New England physician, Doctor A. Myerson, for some time connected with the Boston Psychopathic Hospital, is by no means as unique as might be thought.
This physician was summoned to attend a woman suffering from what was supposed to be a cerebral hemorrhage. She no longer was able to move her right arm, right leg, or the right side of her face, and had entirely lost the power of speech. For many months previous to the onset of this deplorable condition she had been troubled at irregular intervals by headaches, nausea, and fainting spells. The patient herself and her friends had little doubt that she was in so serious a condition that recovery could not be expected. But Doctor Myerson, making use of the most up-to-date methods of neurological diagnosis, soon was able to reach a reassuring verdict. It was a case, he found, not of organic, but of functional paralysis--in fine, a case of hysteria. And, in the end, by employing what is technically known as the method of "indirect suggestion," he actually re-educated the paralyzed woman both to walk and to talk.
Meantime, he made a searching inquiry to ascertain just why she had been stricken by hysterical paralysis. He discovered, for one thing, that the patient's fainting and vomiting spells and her headaches had usually followed bitter quarrels with her husband--and usually had the effect of placing victory on her side. There was one point, nevertheless, on which the husband was immovable. He was a poor man and could not grant his wife's insistent demand to move to a more expensive neighbourhood. He would not have granted it if he could, for in the particular neighbourhood to which she wished to move she had friends whom he regarded as undesirable. It appeared that the attack of paralysis and speechlessness had been preceded by an exceptionally bitter quarrel over this question of moving--"a quarrel which," to quote from Doctor Myerson's report, "had lasted for a whole day and into the night of the attack."
Thus, the attack itself could be correctly interpreted as the supreme effort of a self-centred, neurotic personality to gain a desired end. But, while making this interpretation, Doctor Myerson was quick to add, in his report on the case, that the attack had not by any means been brought on through the patient's "conscious purpose or volition." It was all an affair of her subconsciousness, working in a blind, abnormal, irrational way to help attain the object of her conscious desire. That her subconsciousness should work so abnormally and so disastrously was chiefly due, beyond any doubt, to the absence of adequate training in self-control and emotional restraint.
But it is not only as a strange, irrational mode of fulfilling a wish that hysteria and other nervous disorders may become manifest in selfish people. Without this element of wishing entering in at all, nervousness is particularly likely to attack the selfish. Many nervous conditions are directly brought on by conscious or subconscious fixing of the thoughts on the bodily processes. We are so constituted that our internal organs work best when we pay no attention to them--or, more strictly, when we pay no attention to the physical sensations to which they give rise while working. If, for any reason, our attention is turned to and held on these sensations, they at once become exaggerated, and the organs giving rise to them tend to function badly. In this way any bodily organ may be disturbed in its action, and general symptoms of nervousness result through nothing but over-attention.
An eminent New York physician, Doctor J. J. Walsh, who has given special thought to this aspect of the problem of nervousness, states the case more fully, as follows:
"If something has particularly attracted a patient's attention to some part of his anatomy, and if his attention is concentrated on it and allowed to dwell long on it, his feelings may be so exaggerated as to tempt him to think that they are connected with some definite pathological condition, and he may even translate them into serious portents of organic disease. If a patient once begins to waste nervous energy on himself because of solicitude with regard to these symptoms, then it will not be long before feelings of tiredness, incapacity for work, at times insomnia and certain disturbances of memory, are likely to be noted. Then the neurasthenic picture seems to be complete.