CHAPTER IV.. Sympathy and the Tender Emotions.

SYMPATHY AND THE TENDER EMOTIONS.

Sympathy is not an instinct, but a highly generalised psycho-physiological property—Complete sense and restricted sense—Physiological phase: imitation—Psychological phase: first stage, psychological unison; second stage, addition of tender emotion—Tender emotion—Its physiological expression—Its relations with touch—The smile—Tears: hypotheses as to their causes—Tender emotion indecomposable.

Sympathy is not an instinct or a tendency, i.e., a group of co-ordinated movements adapted to a particular end, and showing itself in consciousness as an emotion, such as fear, anger, sex-attraction; it is, on the contrary, a highly generalised psycho-physiological property. To the specialised character of each emotion, it opposes a character of almost unlimited plasticity. We have not to consider it under all its aspects, but as one of the most important manifestations of emotional life, as the basis of the tender emotions, and one of the foundations of social and moral existence.

Sympathy, in the etymological sense (σῦν, πάθος), which is also the complete one, consists in the existence of identical conditions in two or more individuals of the same or a different species; or, according to Bain, the tendency of an individual to enter into the active or emotional states of others, these states being revealed by certain media of expression. In its general and original form it is that and nothing else. We must therefore begin by getting rid of a prejudice, consecrated by usage in various languages, which identifies sympathy with pity, tenderness, benevolence, and the feelings which establish a tie of concord and a state of reciprocity between two beings. Thus understood, in its restricted sense, the term sympathy is neither accurate nor sufficient; for in all benevolent inclinations there are, besides the general fact of sympathy, other emotional elements, which will be determined in their proper place.

Before it becomes moral, before even it becomes psychological, it is biological. At bottom, it is a property of life, and its complete study would be a chapter of general psychology. If, limiting ourselves to what is strictly necessary, we try to follow the evolution of sympathy, from its most rudimentary to its highest forms, we distinguish three principal phases. The first, or physiological, consists in an agreement of motor tendencies, a synergia; the second, or psychological, consists in an agreement of the emotional states, a synæsthesia; the third, or intellectual, results from a community of representations or ideas, connected with feelings and movements.

First Phase.—In its primitive form sympathy is reflex, automatic, unconscious, or very slightly conscious; it is, according to Bain, the tendency to produce in ourselves an attitude, a state, a bodily movement which we perceive in another person. This is imitation in its most rudimentary form. Between sympathy and imitation, at any rate in this primitive period, I see only one difference of aspect: sympathy everywhere marks the passive, receptive side of the phenomenon—imitation, its active and motor side.

Footnote 144:

The psychology of imitation does not form part of our subject. Baldwin has made an excellent study of it (Mental Development in the Child and Race, pp. 263-366). He defines it as "a sensori-motor reaction, which finds its differentia in the single fact that it imitates; that is, its peculiarity is found in the locus of its muscular discharge. It is what I have called a ‘circular activity’ on the bodily side,—brain-state due to stimulating conditions, muscular reaction which reproduces or retains the stimulating conditions,—same brain-state again, due to same stimulating conditions, and so on." Imitation appears early in the child, at fifteen weeks (Preyer) or four months (Darwin). Are we to consider it as an instinct? Popular opinion is inclined to do so, as are also several psychologists—Stricker, James, and others. The contrary is maintained by Preyer, Bain, Sully, and Baldwin—a view I am myself inclined to take. Imitation does not present the true characteristics of an instinct; it is not adapted at the first attempt; it gropes its way, it is tentative, it fails again after success, it retrogrades, or progresses but slowly. It is an ideo-motor reflex; it takes its place above instinct (a blind and innate tendency inferior to the voluntary activity for which it prepares the way), because it is the first attempt at convergence towards an end.

It manifests itself in animals forming aggregates (not societies), such as a flock of sheep, or a pack of dogs who run, stop, bark all at the same time, through a purely physical impulse of imitation: in man, infectious laughter or yawning, walking in step, imitating the movements of a rope-walker while watching him, feeling a shock in one’s legs when one sees a man falling, and a hundred other occurrences of this kind are cases of physiological sympathy. It plays a great part in the psychology of crowds, with their rapid attacks and sudden panics. In nervous diseases, there is a superfluity of examples: epidemics of hysteric fits, convulsive barking, hiccup, etc. I omit the mental maladies (epidemics of suicide, double or triple madness) since we are only considering the purely physiological stage.

To sum up, sympathy is originally a property of living matter: as there is an organic memory and an organic sensitiveness, being those of the tissues and ultimate elements which compose them, there is an organic sympathy, made up of receptivity and imitative movements.

The second phase is that of sympathy in the psychological sense, necessarily accompanied by consciousness; it creates, in two or more individuals, analogous emotional states. Such are the cases in which we say that fear, indignation, joy or sorrow are communicated. It consists in feeling an emotion existing in another, and is revealed to us by its physiological expression. This phase consists of two stages.

1. The first might be defined as psychological unison. If, during this period of unison, we could read the minds of those who sympathise, we should see a single emotional fact reflected in the consciousness of several individuals. L. Noiré, in his book, Ursprung der Sprache, has proposed the theory that language originated in community of action among the earliest human beings. When working, marching, dancing, rowing, they uttered (according to this writer) sounds which became the appellatives of these different actions, or of various objects; and these sounds, being uttered by all, must have been understood by all. Whether this theory be correct or not (it has been accepted as such by Max Müller), it will serve as an illustration. But this state of sympathy does not, by itself, constitute a tie of affection or tenderness between those who feel it: it only prepares the way for such an emotion. It may be the basis of a certain social solidarity, because the same internal states excite the same acts, of a mechanical, exterior, non-moral solidarity.

2. The second stage is that of sympathy, in the restricted and popular sense of the word. This consists of psychological unison, plus a new element: there is added another emotional manifestation, tender emotion (benevolence, sympathy, pity, etc.). It is no longer sympathy pure and simple, it is a binary compound. The common habit of considering phenomena only under their higher and complete forms often misleads us as to their origin and constitution. Moreover, in order to understand that this is a case of duality—the fusion of two distinct elements—and that our analysis is not a factitious one, it is sufficient to point out that sympathy (in the etymological sense) may exist without any tender emotion—nay, that it may exclude instead of exciting it. According to Lubbock, while ants carry away their wounded, bees—though forming a society—are indifferent towards each other. It is well known that gregarious animals nearly always shun and desert a wounded member of the herd. Among men, how many there are who when they see suffering hasten to withdraw themselves from the spectacle, in order to escape the pain which it sympathetically awakens in them. This impulse may go the length of aversion, as typified by Dives in the Gospel. It is therefore a complete psychological error to consider sympathy as capable, unaided, of delivering men from egoism; it only takes the first step, and not always that.

Third Phase.—Under its intellectual form, sympathy is an agreement in feelings and actions, founded on unity of representation. The law of development is summed up in Spencer’s formula, “The degree and range of sympathy depend on the clearness and extent of representation.” I should, however, add: on condition of being based on an emotional temperament. This last is the source par excellence of sympathy, because it vibrates like an echo; the active temperament lends itself less to such impulses, because it has so much to do in manifesting its own individuality that it can scarcely manifest those of others; finally, the phlegmatic temperament does so least of all, because it presents a minimum of emotional life; like Leibnitz’s monads, it has no windows.

Footnote 145:

Principles of Psychology, vol. iv. p. 565.

In passing from the emotional to the intellectual phase, sympathy gains in extent and stability. In fact, emotional sympathy requires some analogy in temperament or nature; it can scarcely be established between the timid and the daring, between the cheerful and the melancholic; it may be extended to all human beings and to the animals nearest us, but not beyond them. On the contrary, it is the special attribute of intelligence to seek resemblances or analogies everywhere, to unify; it embraces the whole of nature. By the law of transfer (which we have already studied) sympathy follows this invading march, and comprehends even inanimate objects, as in the case of the poet, who feels himself in communion with the sea, the woods, the lakes, or the mountains. Besides, intellectual sympathy participates in the relative fixity of representation: we find a simple instance of this in animal societies, such as those of the bees, where unity, or sympathy among the members, is only maintained by the perception or representation of the queen.

II.

Tender emotion marks an important stage in the evolution of affective life; with it we pass beyond the period of the purely egoistic emotions. The date of its appearance, as I have said, is not fixed with certainty; it may be at two months, according to Darwin, who noted at this age one of his characteristic modes of expression, the smile; more probably about nine months (Darwin) or twelve months (Perez), according to definite observations.

The physiological expression of tenderness, as far as movements are concerned, is reducible to a single formula—attraction. It shows itself either by elementary movements of approach, or by contact, or by the embrace which is its ultimate end, of which all the rest are but mitigated and arrested forms. It therefore stands in relation to the primordial sense, touch, of which Bain says, “Touch is both the alpha and the omega of affection.” The movements have a general character of relaxation, contrasting greatly with that of anger. One mode of expression which is specially, if not exclusively, appropriated to it is the smile. Is this the initial stage of laughter? or is it, on the contrary, only a weakened form of it, an arrest of development? This question has been discussed without much advantage. Darwin adopts the former view, which scarcely seems reconcilable with the general law of evolution; the child smiles before it laughs, whereas we should expect to meet with the inverse order of phenomena. Tender emotion approximates to joy; and its circulatory and respiratory modifications are analogous. There is acceleration, as in the case of pleasure, but to a less degree; tenderness suiting better with moderate and reposeful sensations.

Footnote 146:

The point has been very well treated by this author (The Emotions, chap. vii. p. 127). See also Mantegazza, chap. xi. Lange does not mention it.

It is also accompanied by an increase in the secretions, especially in that of the mammary glands in the woman. In the case of the lachrymal glands this symptom is more difficult to explain. It is known that tenderness often moistens the eyes; but tears are produced under conditions so varied, and sometimes so contradictory, that, even after all the recent work which has appeared on the expression of the emotions, the question of the causes seems to me very far from being exhausted. The pressure of the blood has a direct influence on this secretion, which is always accompanied by an increase in the circulation; but the simplicity of the mechanism is not incompatible with a diversity of causes. Tears may be provoked by mechanical or physiological acts: irritation of the conjunctiva, coughing, effort, vomiting; and by totally distinct psychic states, sorrow, joy, tenderness. In fact, all attempts at explanation relate to the painful states only; cases of this kind being, though not of exclusive occurrence, more frequent than others. Darwin admits that screaming, in infants, causes the vessels of the eye to become gorged with blood, and this produces a contraction of the orbicular muscles as a means of protection, whence a reflex action on the lachrymal glands; the shedding of tears continuing even after the suppression of the screams. Wundt rejects this explanation, seeing in the lachrymal glands derivative organs assuaging pain; this secretion, which is permanent, cleanses the eye from foreign bodies, such as dust and insects, etc. As the visual images are the most important of all, the shedding of tears would be an unconscious effort to drive away sad representations, having for its foundation an analogy between the painful sensations and the images. Whatever one may think of these hypotheses, they consider tears as signs of pain exclusively.

The augmentation of the lachrymal secretion depends on the increase in the pressure of the blood; now, the circulation is accelerated by joy and tenderness, as is proved by the shining of the eyes. The appearance of tears—not very abundant, however, in such cases—would be the natural consequence. Sorrow, on the contrary, is accompanied by a lowering of the circulation, and very often, in the early stage, tears are entirely wanting. The shedding of tears produces relief, it is a safety-valve; it would answer to a second stage—that of slackened tension—in which the return of vitality has begun. In other words, the tears of joy and tenderness would correspond to the stage of action, the tears of sadness to the stage of reaction.

The psychology of tender emotion seems to me reducible to a single question—that of its origin. The description of its varieties is without interest, and may be found elsewhere. We have stated it as simple and primary. Being the source of all altruistic, social, and moral manifestations, it will be worth our while to consider its nature at the period of its appearance.

In children, and the higher animals, the first manifestation of tenderness is towards the mother or the nurse.

"The relation involved in the sustenance of the child, a relation only a degree less close than that of the fœtus to the maternal organism, constitutes in itself the chief source of the feeling. Along with the supply of nutriment there goes that of warmth, support, or propping, which again is a continuation of the fœtal dependence. This first instinctive or sensuous attachment of the child grows into what we call fondness by the complication of this instinctive feeling with numerous “ideal” or transferred feelings, the product of the many pleasurable sensations, including those of the eye and of the ear, of which the mother is the source." The primary tendency, therefore, is directed, in children and animals, to those who have been pleasant to them, or who have done them good, and from whom they hope to receive it again. This is an emotion which, in Herbert Spencer’s nomenclature, might legitimately be called ego-altruistic, or even one with a marked preponderance of egoism. It must be so, for altruism cannot be innate.

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Footnote 147:

Sully, The Human Mind, ii. pp. 104, 105.

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The faculty of knowledge begins with an undifferentiated period, in which there is neither subject nor object, but only the consciousness of something without qualification. The separation of the ego and the non-ego in the order of cognition is the stage corresponding to the division, in the emotional order, between conscious egoism and altruism. How does this partial alienation from ourselves come about? How can it arise and be consolidated? These questions will be discussed later, when treating of moral emotion (Chap. VIII.). For the moment, I confine myself to a single question: Are we confronted with a veritable instinct—with an innate tendency incapable of being analysed, showing itself in the consciousness by the tender emotion or its varieties?

We know all the efforts made (especially in the eighteenth century) to reduce altruism by analysis to an extremely refined egoism, to a calculation; thus the tenderness of parents for their children was explained by the expectation of services to be rendered by them in the future. I think it needless to insist on this point.

In favour of inneity, the best argument that can be alleged, because founded on fact, is, that affection and attachment are met with even among animals, to whom we cannot attribute calculation or interested foresight. Apart from maternal love, which manifests itself energetically in very low stages of the animal kingdom, we find examples of benevolent and active sympathy between animals of the same species, and even (though this is rarer) of different species, apart from any sexual attraction. Let us add, if necessary, in the case of human beings: “the instantaneous, unreflecting impulses of pity to creatures in distress, although strangers, enemies, criminals, noxious beasts, the absence of all balancings of immediate loss with ultimate gain.... Long-sighted selfishness does not explain the conduct of the Good Samaritan. Again, the hosts of human beings that in all ages have voluntarily given up their lives for their country, could not be influenced by their own advantage. For, although many of these have been taught the hopes of a future existence, this has been by no means universal; and there could be little certainty in the mass of minds that the surrender of this life would receive a full compensation in another.”

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Footnote 148:

For these facts see Romanes, Mental Evolution, chap, xx., and Lloyd Morgan, Animal Life, pp. 397, 398.

Footnote 149:

Bain, Emotions, chap. vi. p. 111.

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The inneity of the altruistic instinct, therefore, seems to me proved beyond the possibility of reply. It may be very energetic in some individuals, or very weak in others; in this it only resembles all instinctive tendencies. As a genus, this instinct comprises several varieties, of a general character, such as benevolence, affection, pity, etc. Finally, it is one of the elements which make up several composite emotions—veneration, admiration, sexual love, etc.

It remains only to inquire in what form it first made its entry into the world, what was its earliest manifestation. With regard to this matter, there are only three possible hypotheses: those of maternal love, gregarious instinct, and the very improbable one of sexual instinct. The value of these hypotheses will be discussed later on, in the chapter on moral emotion, which is the natural complement to the present one.

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Footnote 150:

The pathology of tender emotion does not offer sufficient interest to detain us. The altruistic tendency may be totally wanting in certain hypochondriac and demented patients, who, entrenched in an impenetrable egoism, have undergone a real “moral ossification.” Tenderness may become sentimentality towards persons, animals (zoophily), and things (nostalgia), etc. Morel (Études cliniques, vol. ii. sec. 4) quotes the case of a man of high intellectual capacity, in whom the most futile and ridiculous causes excited absurd accès de sensibilité. “The loss of domestic animals which he had reared threw him into a state of bewilderment and convulsions of tears, as if it had been the death of his best friends. I saw him one day almost delirious with grief at the death of one of the numerous frogs which he kept in his garden.” This morbid emotivity, coinciding with congenital or acquired weakness, and with convalescence or other adynamic states, throws into relief, by its exaggerated character, that state of relaxation which is, as we have seen, one of the principal marks of the tender emotion.

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