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In short, any classification of the emotions is seen to be as true and as 'natural ' as any other , if it only serves some purpose; and such a question as "What is the 'real' or 'typical' expression of anger, or fear?" is seen to have no objective meaning at all.Instead of it we now have the question as to how any given 'expression' of anger or fear may have come to exist; and that is a real question of physiological mechanics on the one hand, and of history on the other, which (like all real questions)

is in essence answerable, although the answer may be hard to find.On a later page I shall mention the attempts to answer it which have been made.DIFFICULTY OF TESTING THE THEORY EXPERIMENTALLY.

I have thus fairly propounded what seems to me the most fruitful way of conceiving of the emotions.It must be admitted that it is so far only a hypothesis, only possibly a true conception, and that much is lacking to its definitive proof.The only way coercively to dis prove it, however, would be to take some emotion, and then exhibit qualities of feeling in it which should be demonstrably additional to all those which could possibly be derived from the organs affected at the time.

But to detect with certainty such purely spiritual qualities of feeling would obviously be a task beyond human power.We have, as Professor Lange says, absolutely no immediate criterion by which to distinguish between spiritual and corporeal feelings; and, I may add, the more we sharpen our introspection, the more localized all our qualities of feeling become (see above, Vol.I.p.300) and the more difficult the discrimination consequently grows.

A positive proof of the theory would, on the other hand, be given if we could find a subject absolutely anæsthetic inside and out, but not paralytic, so that emotion-inspiring objects might evoke the usual bodily expressions from him, but who, on being consulted, should say that no subjective emotional affection was felt.Such a man would be like one who, because he eats, appears to bystanders to be hungry, but who afterwards confesses that he had no appetite at all.Cases like this are extremely hard to find.Medical literature contains reports, so far as I know, of but three.In the famous one of Remigius Leins no mention is made by the reporters of his emotional condition.In Dr.G.Winter's case the patient is said to be inert and phlegmatic, but no particular attention, as I learn from Dr.W., was paid to his psychic condition.In the extraordinary case reported by Professor Strumpell (to which I must refer later in another connection) we read that the patient, a shoemaker's apprentice of fifteen, entirely anæsthetic, inside and out, with the exception of one eye and one ear, had shown shame on the occasion of soiling his bed, and grief , when a formerly favorite dish was set before him, at the thought that he could no longer taste its flavor.Dr.Strumpell is also kind enough to inform me that he manifested surprise , fear , and anger on certain occasions.In observing him, however, no such theory as the present one seems to have been thought of; and it always remains possible that, just as he satisfied his natural appetites and necessities in cold blood, with no inward feeling, so his emotional expressions may have been accompanied by a quite cold heart. Any new case which turns up of generalized anæsthesia ought to be carefully examined as to the inward emotional sensibility as distinct from the 'expressions'

of emotion which circumstances may bring forth.Objections Considered.

Let me now notice a few objections.The replies will make the theory still more plausible.

First Objection.There is no real evidence, it may be said, for the assumption that particular perceptions do produce wide-spread bodily effects by a sort of immediate physical influence, antecedent to the arousal of an emotion or emotional idea?

Reply.There is most assuredly such evidence.In listening to poetry, drama, or heroic narrative we are often surprised at the cutaneous shiver which like a sudden wave flows over us, and at the heart-swelling and the lachrymal effusion that unexpectedly catch us at intervals.In listening to music the same is even more strikingly true.If we abruptly see a dark moving form in the woods, our heart stops beating, and we catch our breath instantly and before any articulate idea of danger can arise.

If our friend goes near to the edge of a precipice, we get the well-known feeling of 'all-overishness,' and we shrink back, although we positively know him to be safe, and have no distinct imagination of his fall.

The writer well remembers his astonishment, when a boy of seven or eight, at fainting when he saw a horse bled.The blood was in a bucket, with a stick in it, and, if memory does not deceive him, he stirred it round and saw it drip from the stick with no feeling save that of childish curiosity.

Suddenly the world grew black before his eyes, his ears began to buzz, and he knew no more.He had never heard of the sight of blood producing faintness or sickness, and he had so little repugnance to it, and so little apprehension of any other sort of danger from it, that even at that tender age, as he well remembers, he could not help wondering how the mere physical presence of a pailful of crimson fluid could occasion in him such formidable bodily effects.

Professor Lange writes:

"No one has ever thought of separating the emotion produced by an unusually loud sound from the true inward affections.No one hesitates to call it a sort of fright, and it shows the ordinary signs of fright.And yet it is by no means combined with the idea of danger, or in any way occasioned by associations, memories, or other mental processes.The phenomena of fright follow the noise immediately without a trace of 'spiritual' fear.