The Expression of the Emotions in Man and Animals · Charles Darwin
CHAPTER VIII. JOY, HIGH SPIRITS, LOVE, TENDER FEELINGS, DEVOTION.
In a second infant the first real smile was observed at about the same age, viz. forty-five days; and in a third, at a somewhat earlier age. The second infant, when sixty-five days old, smiled much more broadly and plainly than did the one first mentioned at the same age; and even at this early age uttered noises very like laughter. In this gradual acquirement, by infants, of the habit of laughing, we have a case in some degree analogous to that of weeping. As practice is requisite with the ordinary movements of the body, such as walking, so it seems to be with laughing and weeping. The art of screaming, on the other hand, from being of service to infants, has become finely developed from the earliest days.
_High spirits, cheerfulness_.—A man in high spirits, though he may not actually smile, commonly exhibits some tendency to the retraction of the corners of his mouth. From the excitement of pleasure, the circulation becomes more rapid; the eyes are bright, and the colour of the face rises. The brain, being stimulated by the increased flow of blood, reacts on the mental powers; lively ideas pass still more rapidly through the mind, and the affections are warmed. I heard a child, a little under four years old, when asked what was meant by being in good spirits, answer, “It is laughing, talking, and kissing.” It would be difficult to give a truer and more practical definition. A man in this state holds his body erect, his head upright, and his eyes open. There is no drooping of the features, and no contraction of the eyebrows. On the contrary, the frontal muscle, as Moreau observes,[817] tends to contract slightly; and this smooths the brow, removes every trace of a frown, arches the eyebrows a little, and raises the eyelids. Hence the Latin phrase, _exporrigere frontem_—to unwrinkle the brow—means, to be cheerful or merry. The whole expression of a man in good spirits is exactly the opposite of that of one suffering from sorrow. According to Sir C. Bell, “In all the exhilarating emotions the eyebrows, eyelids, the nostrils, and the angles of the mouth are raised. In the depressing passions it is the reverse.” Under the influence of the latter the brow is heavy, the eyelids, cheeks, mouth, and whole head droop; the eyes are dull; the countenance pallid, and the respiration slow. In joy the face expands, in grief it lengthens. Whether the principle of antithesis has here come into play in producing these opposite expressions, in aid of the direct causes which have been specified and which are sufficiently plain, I will not pretend to say.
With all the races of man the expression of good spirit appears to be the same, and is easily recognized. My informants, from various parts of the Old and New Worlds, answer in the affirmative to my queries on this head, and they give some particulars with respect to Hindoos, Malays, and New Zealanders. The brightness of the eyes of the Australians has struck four observers, and the same fact has been noticed with Hindoos, New Zealanders, and the Dyaks of Borneo. Savages sometimes express their satisfaction not only by smiling, but by gestures derived from the pleasure of eating. Thus Mr. Wedgwood[818] quotes Petherick that the negroes on the Upper Nile began a general rubbing of their bellies when he displayed his beads; and Leichhardt says that the Australians smacked and clacked their mouths at the sight of his horses and bullocks, and more especially of his kangaroo dogs. The Greenlanders, “when they affirm anything with pleasure, suck down air with a certain sound;”[819] and this may be an imitation of the act of swallowing savoury food. Laughter is suppressed by the firm contraction of the orbicular muscles of the mouth, which prevents the great zygomatic and other muscles from drawing the lips backwards and upwards. The lower lip is also sometimes held by the teeth, and this gives a roguish expression to the face, as was observed with the blind and deaf Laura Bridgman.[820] The great zygomatic muscle is sometimes variable in its course, and I have seen a young woman in whom the _depressores anguli oris_ were brought into strong action in suppressing a smile; but this by no means gave to her countenance a melancholy expression, owing to the brightness of her eyes.
Laughter is frequently employed in a forced manner to conceal or mask some other state of mind, even anger. We often see persons laughing in order to conceal their shame or shyness. When a person purses up his mouth, as if to prevent the possibility of a smile, though there is nothing to excite one, or nothing to prevent its free indulgence, an affected, solemn, or pedantic expression is given; but of such hybrid expressions nothing more need here be said. In the case of derision, a real or pretended smile or laugh is often blended with the expression proper to contempt, and this may pass into angry contempt or scorn. In such cases the meaning of the laugh or smile is to show the offending person that he excites only amusement. _Love, tender feelings, &c_.—Although the emotion of love, for instance that of a mother for her infant, is one of the strongest of which the mind is capable, it can hardly be said to have any proper or peculiar means of expression; and this is intelligible, as it has not habitually led to any special line of action. No doubt, as affection is a pleasurable sensation, it generally causes a gentle smile and some brightening of the eyes. A strong desire to touch the beloved person is commonly felt; and love is expressed by this means more plainly than by any other.[821] Hence we long to clasp in our arms those whom we tenderly love. We probably owe this desire to inherited habit, in association with the nursing and tending of our children, and with the mutual caresses of lovers.
With the lower animals we see the same principle of pleasure derived from contact in association with love. Dogs and cats manifestly take pleasure in rubbing against their masters and mistresses, and in being rubbed or patted by them. Many kinds of monkeys, as I am assured by the keepers in the Zoological Gardens, delight in fondling and being fondled by each other, and by persons to whom they are attached. Mr. Bartlett has described to me the behaviour of two chimpanzees, rather older animals than those generally imported into this country, when they were first brought together. They sat opposite, touching each other with their much protruded lips; and the one put his hand on the shoulder of the other. They then mutually folded each other in their arms. Afterwards they stood up, each with one arm on the shoulder of the other, lifted up their heads, opened their mouths, and yelled with delight.[822]
“Telemachus Rose, and clung weeping round his father’s breast. There the pent grief rained o’er them, yearning thus. * * * * * * Thus piteously they wailed in sore unrest, And on their weepings had gone down the day, But that at last Telemachus found words to say.” _Worsley’s Translation of the Odyssey_, Book xvi. st. 27. So again when Penelope at last recognized her husband:— “Then from her eyelids the quick tears did start And she ran to him from her place, and threw Her arms about his neck, and a warm dew Of kisses poured upon him, and thus spake:” —Book xxiii. st. 27. The vivid recollection of our former home, or of long-past happy days, readily causes the eyes to be suffused with tears; but here, again, the thought naturally occurs that these days will never return. In such cases we may be said to sympathize with ourselves in our present, in comparison with our former, state. Sympathy with the distresses of others, even with the imaginary distresses of a heroine in a pathetic story, for whom we feel no affection, readily excites tears. So does sympathy with the happiness of others, as with that of a lover, at last successful after many hard trials in a well-told tale.
Sympathy appears to constitute a separate or distinct emotion; and it is especially apt to excite the lacrymal glands. This holds good whether we give or receive sympathy. Every one must have noticed how readily children burst out crying if we pity them for some small hurt. With the melancholic insane, as Dr. Crichton Browne informs me, a kind word will often plunge them into unrestrained weeping. As soon as we express our pity for the grief of a friend, tears often come into our own eyes. The feeling of sympathy is commonly explained by assuming that, when we see or hear of suffering in another, the idea of suffering is called up so vividly in our own minds that we ourselves suffer. But this explanation is hardly sufficient, for it does not account for the intimate alliance between sympathy and affection. We undoubtedly sympathize far more deeply with a beloved than with an indifferent person; and the sympathy of the one gives us far more relief than that of the other. Yet assuredly we can sympathize with those for whom we feel no affection.
Why suffering, when actually experienced by ourselves, excites weeping, has been discussed in a former chapter. With respect to joy, its natural and universal expression is laughter; and with all the races of man loud laughter leads to the secretion of tears more freely than does any other cause excepting distress. The suffusion of the eyes with tears, which undoubtedly occurs under great joy, though there is no laughter, can, as it seems to me, be explained through habit and association on the same principles as the effusion of tears from grief, although there is no screaming. Nevertheless it is not a little remarkable that sympathy with the distresses of others should excite tears more freely than our own distress; and this certainly is the case. Many a man, from whose eyes no suffering of his own could wring a tear, has shed tears at the sufferings of a beloved friend. It is still more remarkable that sympathy with the happiness or good fortune of those whom we tenderly love should lead to the same result, whilst a similar happiness felt by ourselves would leave our eyes dry. We should, however, bear in mind that the long-continued habit of restraint which is so powerful in checking the free flow of tears from bodily pain, has not been brought into play in preventing a moderate effusion of tears in sympathy with the sufferings or happiness of others.
Music has a wonderful power, as I have elsewhere attempted to show,[824] of recalling in a vague and indefinite manner, those strong emotions which were felt during long-past ages, when, as is probable, our early progenitors courted each other by the aid of vocal tones. And as several of our strongest emotions—grief, great joy, love, and sympathy—lead to the free secretion of tears, it is not surprising that music should be apt to cause our eyes to become suffused with tears, especially when we are already softened by any of the tenderer feelings. Music often produces another peculiar effect. We know that every strong sensation, emotion, or excitement—extreme pain, rage, terror, joy, or the passion of love—all have a special tendency to cause the muscles to tremble; and the thrill or slight shiver which runs down the backbone and limbs of many persons when they are powerfully affected by music, seems to bear the same relation to the above trembling of the body, as a slight suffusion of tears from the power of music does to weeping from any strong and real emotion.
_Devotion_.—As devotion is, in some degree, related to affection, though mainly consisting of reverence, often combined with fear, the expression of this state of mind may here be briefly noticed. With some sects, both past and present, religion and love have been strangely combined; and it has even been maintained, lamentable as the fact may be, that the holy kiss of love differs but little from that which a man bestows on a woman, or a woman on a man.[825] Devotion is chiefly expressed by the face being directed towards the heavens, with the eyeballs upturned. Sir C. Bell remarks that, at the approach of sleep, or of a fainting-fit, or of death, the pupils are drawn upwards and inwards; and he believes that “when we are wrapt in devotional feelings, and outward impressions are unheeded, the eyes are raised by an action neither taught nor acquired.” and that this is due to the same cause as in the above cases.[826] That the eyes are upturned during sleep is, as I hear from Professor Donders, certain. With babies, whilst sucking their mother’s breast, this movement of the eyeballs often gives to them an absurd appearance of ecstatic delight; and here it may be clearly perceived that a struggle is going on against the position naturally assumed during sleep. But Sir C. Bell’s explanation of the fact, which rests on the assumption that certain muscles are more under the control of the will than others is, as I hear from Professor Donders, incorrect. As the eyes are often turned up in prayer, without the mind being so much absorbed in thought as to approach to the unconsciousness of sleep, the movement is probably a conventional one—the result of the common belief that Heaven, the source of Divine power to which we pray, is seated above us.
A humble kneeling posture, with the hands upturned and palms joined, appears to us, from long habit, a gesture so appropriate to devotion, that it might be thought to be innate; but I have not met with any evidence to this effect with the various extra-European races of mankind. During the classical period of Roman history it does not appear, as I hear from an excellent classic, that the hands were thus joined during prayer. Mr. Rensleigh Wedgwood has apparently given[827] the true explanation, though this implies that the attitude is one of slavish subjection. “When the suppliant kneels and holds up his hands with the palms joined, he represents a captive who proves the completeness of his submission by offering up his hands to be bound by the victor. It is the pictorial representation of the Latin _dare manus_, to signify submission.” Hence it is not probable that either the uplifting of the eyes or the joining of the open hands, under the influence of devotional feelings, are innate or truly expressive actions; and this could hardly have been expected, for it is very doubtful whether feelings, such as we should now rank as devotional, affected the hearts of men, whilst they remained during past ages in an uncivilized condition.
Ideas discussed in this chapter
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.