We have just shown that the so-called higher forms of emotion do not escape from the necessity of physiological conditions; but there is yet another question, still in obscurity and suspense, which, by reason of its importance, ought to be elucidated. It is this: Why have certain internal or external states, certain images, certain ideas, the privilege of exciting certain organic and motor states, and, in consequence, emotion? How is this connection, this _nexus_, established? for experience teaches us that it is not necessary: in the same individual the same perception or idea may awaken an emotion, whereas in another case it may produce nothing. In other words, there are perceptions, images, and concepts which remain purely intellectual states without affective accompaniment, at least with none accessible to consciousness. There are others which are immediately enveloped and, as it were, submerged in the emotion which they produce. Let us note that the question comes before us, whatever opinion we may adopt as to the genesis of emotion. As usually accepted, the order is this: intellectual state, affective state, organic states. According to the physiological hypothesis, the order is as follows: intellectual state, organic states, affective state. Passing from one thesis to the other, the problem is subject to but one variation: Why is a certain intellectual state sometimes coupled with an intellectual state, and sometimes not? This is on the first hypothesis. Why is a certain intellectual state sometimes accompanied by organic and motor modifications, sometimes not? This is on the second hypothesis.
The answer is the same in both cases: the intellectual state is accompanied by an affective state whenever there is a direct relation with the conditions of existence, natural or social, of the individual. In order to justify this proposition we must examine in succession these two forms of the conditions of existence.
1st Period.—_Sensations or images connected with the natural conditions of existence._
We have here to do with a question of genesis; we must therefore begin with the humblest phenomena. The primordial sense, the only one in certain animals, is touch combined with internal sensations. Let us remark that, in its origin, the “knowledge” which we take in its lowest degree has only a _practical_ value; sensation is a monitor, an aid, an instrument, a weapon with only one aim—the preservation of the individual,—and completely subordinated to that end; otherwise, it is nothing but a useless manifestation, a luxury. The _nexus_ between the sensations and the organic and motor reactions is therefore innate—_i.e._, it results from the very constitution of the animal. If it fails, the conditions of existence are at fault. The primordial tissue, says Spencer, must be differently affected, according as it is in contact with nutritive matter (ordinarily soluble) or with innutritive matter (ordinarily insoluble). The contraction by which the tactual surface of a rhizopod absorbs a fragment of assimilable matter is caused by a commencing absorption of this matter, _i.e._, contact and absorption are the same thing. The action of certain agents is followed by a retractile movement, or, on the contrary, by movements of a character to assure the continuance of the impression. These two kinds of movement are, in this writer’s view, respectively the phenomena and the signs of pleasure and pain. The tissue, therefore, acts in such a manner as to assure pleasure and avoid pain, by a law as physical and natural as that by which a magnet turns towards the pole, or a tree to the light. Without inquiring whether pleasure and pain exist in this case—a purely hypothetical assumption—there are, at least, objective phenomena denoting a _nexus_ of utility between the sensation and the expansive or retractile movements.
Passing from these inferior organisms to those provided with several senses, we find no change. Each order of sensation acts in the same way. The animal is better informed, and consequently better protected and armed—that is all. Finally, when certain images (_i.e._, recollections of pleasures and pains experienced) excite an emotional state, the mechanism remains the same, and tends towards the same end. It is therefore not without reason that we have above assimilated every form of primary emotion to a psycho-physiological organism adapted to a particular end.
It is needless to review the primary emotions and to show that the sensation, the perception, or the image only produces organic or motor troubles when the preservation of the individual or the species is at stake. The intellectual state (sensation, perception, or image) can instinctively—_i.e._, through an innate mechanism—produce immobility, oppression, withdrawing into one’s self, flight (fear); or, on the contrary, aggressive movements, attack (anger), or movements of attraction, accompanied by phenomena peculiar to each species (sexual love).
To sum up, every event of this kind, reduced to its simplest expression, consists in (1) an intellectual fact, analogous to a spring moving the whole machine, (2) an unconscious, half-conscious, or conscious reaction of the instinct of self-preservation; this being by no means an entity, as we have already said, but the organism itself under its dynamic aspect.
2nd Period.—_Perceptions, images, or ideas connected with social conditions of existence._
Up to the present, we have only considered emotional reaction in its relations with nature—_i.e._, with the physical environment. Its domain is much more extensive; in man, and in many animals, it is adapted to the social environment. At bottom, the mechanism remains the same. A perception, an image, or an idea excites an emotion, because related, directly or indirectly (in the latter case the relation is conceived, inductively or deductively), to the social conditions of the individual. The natural _ego_ has its needs and tendencies; the same is true of the social _ego_, grafted on the other, or rather, one with it; consequently, the mechanism comes very frequently into play; the circumference is extended, but the centre remains the same.
Let us note the differences between the two periods. In the latter we have (1) a preponderance of representations and concepts—_i.e._, the superior forms of knowledge; (2) instead of a natural, innate association between certain perceptions and certain emotional reactions—associations which may be called anatomical, because fixed in the individual organism—there are secondary, acquired associations, less solidly fixed, sometimes entirely artificial, which result from experience, from education, from habit, from imitation. I give some examples, by way of elucidation, and in order to avoid repetition.
The feeling of property is derived from a natural condition of existence—nutrition. It is first manifested—in the form of a prevision—in some animals who store up a reserve of food for the future. In primitive man this instinct extends to clothes, weapons, the cave or hut which he inhabits; later on, with the nomadic life, to herds and flocks; then to agricultural products, silver, gold, paper money; finally to that impalpable thing called credit, which has merely an imaginary existence. Thus it gradually takes on a social character. The knowledge of any loss or any gain, actual or possible, produces an emotion in the individual, because it shows him that his adaptation to social conditions is diminished or augmented.
The sentiment of “self-feeling” is innate, primary. Let us imagine ourselves in a society where the questions of rank, precedence, etiquette, are of capital importance—in an aristocratic monarchy like that of Louis XIV.—and we shall see what a ferment of emotions may be raised by an occurrence which, to our eyes, seems futile and irrelevant. If we read Saint-Simon’s _Mémoires_, we see him boiling over with indignation when a courtier is unduly accorded the privileges of a duke and peer, and his wife is granted a stool in the Queen’s presence. He spends his time in incessant visits, forms coalitions, does all in his power to move the ministers or the Parliament, and finally exults in his victory. However factitious and puerile this agitation may seem, it results from the same physiological mechanism as the simplest emotions: from the instinct of personal preservation—not of his natural _ego_, but of his _ego qua_ courtier of the Grand Monarque. If he fails, he is injured, depreciated, lessened in his conditions of social existence.
The case already cited, of Malebranche, to whom Descartes’ _Traité de l’homme_ “caused such violent palpitations of the heart that he was obliged continually to leave his book in order to breathe,” called forth Fontenelle’s remark that “Truth, which is invisible and of no practical utility, is not wont to find so much sensibility among men.” No doubt; but to the true man of science the pursuit of truth is one of the necessary conditions of existence. For others it is a mere luxury, to the loss of which they are quite indifferent.
I think we have thus replied to the question previously put—why certain sensations, images, ideas, have the privilege of producing organic and motor changes which, translated into the language of consciousness, constitute the emotional state—and justified our answer. The sensation, the image, the idea, are only occasional causes, incapable by themselves of producing any emotion: it springs from the inmost personality of the individual—from his _organisation_—expresses it directly, and participates in its stability and its instability.
