The Expression Of The Emotions In Man And Animals

Chapter XIV

 

CONCLUDING REMARKS AND SUMMARY.

The three leading principles which have determined the chief movements
of expression–Their inheritance–On the part which the will and
intention have played in the acquirement of various expressions–
The instinctive recognition of expression–The bearing of our
subject on the specific unity of the races of man–On the successive
acquirement of various expressions by the progenitors of man–
The importance of expression–Conclusion.

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I HAVE now described, to the best of my ability, the chief
expressive actions in man, and in some few of the lower animals.
I have also attempted to explain the origin or development of these
actions through the three principles given in the first chapter.
The first of these principles is, that movements which are serviceable
in gratifying some desire, or in relieving some sensation,
if often repeated, become so habitual that they are performed,
whether or not of any service, whenever the same desire or sensation
is felt, even in a very weak degree.

Our second principle is that of antithesis. The habit of voluntarily
performing opposite movements under opposite impulses has become
firmly established in us by the practice of our whole lives.
Hence, if certain actions have been regularly performed,
in accordance with our first principle, under a certain frame of mind,
there will be a strong and involuntary tendency to the performance
of directly opposite actions, whether or not these are of any use,
under the excitement of an opposite frame of mind.

Our third principle is the direct action of the excited nervous
system on the body, independently of the will, and independently,
in large part, of habit. Experience shows that nerve-force is
generated and set free whenever the cerebro-spinal system is excited.
The direction which this nerve-force follows is necessarily
determined by the lines of connection between the nerve-cells,
with each other and with various parts of the body.
But the direction is likewise much influenced by habit;
inasmuch as nerve-force passes readily along accustomed channels.

The frantic and senseless actions of an enraged man may be attributed
in part to the undirected flow of nerve-force, and in part to the effects
of habit, for these actions often vaguely represent the act of striking.
They thus pass into gestures included under our first principle;
as when an indignant man unconsciously throws himself into a fitting
attitude for attacking his opponent, though without any intention
of making an actual attack. We see also the influence of habit
in all the emotions and sensations which are called exciting;
for they have assumed this character from having habitually led
to energetic action; and action affects, in an indirect manner,
the respiratory and circulatory system; and the latter reacts on the brain.
Whenever these emotions or sensations are even slightly felt by us,
though they may not at the time lead to any exertion, our whole system
is nevertheless disturbed through the force of habit and association.
Other emotions and sensations are called depressing, because they
have not habitually led to energetic action, excepting just at first,
as in the case of extreme pain, fear, and grief, and they have ultimately
caused complete exhaustion; they are consequently expressed chiefly
by negative signs and by prostration. Again, there are other emotions,
such as that of affection, which do not commonly lead to action of any kind,
and consequently are not exhibited by any strongly marked outward signs.
Affection indeed, in as far as it is a pleasurable sensation,
excites the ordinary signs of pleasure.

On the other hand, many of the effects due to the excitement
of the nervous system seem to be quite independent
of the flow of nerve-force along the channels which have
been rendered habitual by former exertions of the will.
Such effects, which often reveal the state of mind of the person
thus affected, cannot at present be explained; for instance,
the change of colour in the hair from extreme terror or grief,–
the cold sweat and the trembling of the muscles from fear,–
the modified secretions of the intestinal canal,–and the failure
of certain glands to act.

Notwithstanding that much remains unintelligible in our present subject,
so many expressive movements and actions can be explained to a certain
extent through the above three principles, that we may hope hereafter
to see all explained by these or by closely analogous principles.

Actions of all kinds, if regularly accompanying any state
of the mind, are at once recognized as expressive.
These may consist of movements of any part of the body,
as the wagging of a dog’s tail, the shrugging of a man’s shoulders,
the erection of the hair, the exudation of perspiration,
the state of the capillary circulation, laboured breathing,
and the use of the vocal or other sound-producing instruments.
Even insects express anger, terror, jealousy, and love
by their stridulation. With man the respiratory organs are
of especial importance in expression, not only in a direct,
but in a still higher degree in an indirect manner.

Few points are more interesting in our present subject
than the extraordinarily complex chain of events which lead
to certain expressive movements. Take, for instance,
the oblique eyebrows of a man suffering from grief or anxiety.
When infants scream loudly from hunger or pain, the circulation
is affected, and the eyes tend to become gorged with blood:
consequently the muscles surrounding the eyes are strongly
contracted as a protection: this action, in the course
of many generations, has become firmly fixed and inherited:
but when, with advancing years and culture, the habit of
screaming is partially repressed, the muscles round the eyes
still tend to contract, whenever even slight distress is felt:
of these muscles, the pyramidals of the nose are less under the control
of the will than are the others and their contraction can be
checked only by that of the central fasciae of the frontal muscle:
these latter fasciae draw up the inner ends of the eyebrows,
and wrinkle the forehead in a peculiar manner, which we
instantly recognize as the expression of grief or anxiety.
Slight movements, such as these just described, or the scarcely
perceptible drawing down of the corners of the mouth, are the last
remnants or rudiments of strongly marked and intelligible movements.
They are as full of significance to us in regard to expression,
as are ordinary rudiments to the naturalist in the classification
and genealogy of organic beings.

That the chief expressive actions, exhibited by man and by
the lower animals, are now innate or inherited,–that is,
have not been learnt by the individual,–is admitted by every one.
So little has learning or imitation to do with several of them that they
are from the earliest days and throughout life quite beyond our control;
for instance, the relaxation of the arteries of the skin in blushing,
and the increased action of the heart in anger. We may see children,
only two or three years old, and even those born blind, blushing from shame;
and the naked scalp of a very young infant reddens from passion.
Infants scream from pain directly after birth, and all their
features then assume the same form as during subsequent years.
These facts alone suffice to show that many of our most important
expressions have not been learnt; but it is remarkable that some,
which are certainly innate, require practice in the individual,
before they are performed in a full and perfect manner; for instance,
weeping and laughing. The inheritance of most of our expressive actions
explains the fact that those born blind display them, as I hear from
the Rev. R. H. Blair, equally well with those gifted with eyesight.
We can thus also understand the fact that the young and the old of widely
different races, both with man and animals, express the same state
of mind by the same movements.

We are so familiar with the fact of young and old animals displaying
their feelings in the same manner, that we hardly perceive how remarkable
it is that a young puppy should wag its tail when pleased, depress its
ears and uncover its canine teeth when pretending to be savage,
just like an old dog; or that a kitten should arch its little back
and erect its hair when frightened and angry, like an old cat.
When, however, we turn to less common gestures in ourselves,
which we are accustomed to look at as artificial or conventional,–
such as shrugging the shoulders, as a sign of impotence, or the raising
the arms with open hands and extended fingers, as a sign of wonder,–
we feel perhaps too much surprise at finding that they are innate.
That these and some other gestures are inherited, we may infer from
their being performed by very young children, by those born blind,
and by the most widely distinct races of man. We should also bear
in mind that new and highly peculiar tricks, in association with certain
states of the mind, are known to have arisen in certain individuals,
and to have been afterwards transmitted to their offspring, in some cases,
for more than one generation.

Certain other gestures, which seem to us so natural that we might
easily imagine that they were innate, apparently have been learnt like
the words of a language. This seems to be the case with the joining
of the uplifted hands, and the turning up of the eyes, in prayer.
So it is with kissing as a mark of affection; but this is innate, in so far
as it depends on the pleasure derived from contact with a beloved person.
The evidence with respect to the inheritance of nodding and shaking
the head, as signs of affirmation and negation, is doubtful; for they
are not universal, yet seem too general to have been independently
acquired by all the individuals of so many races.

We will now consider how far the will and consciousness have come
into play in the development of the various movements of expression.
As far as we can judge, only a few expressive movements, such as those just
referred to, are learnt by each individual; that is, were consciously
and voluntarily performed during the early years of life for some
definite object, or in imitation of others, and then became habitual.
The far greater number of the movements of expression, and all
the more important ones, are, as we have seen, innate or inherited;
and such cannot be said to depend on the will of the individual.
Nevertheless, all those included under our first principle were at
first voluntarily performed for a definite object,–namely, to escape
some danger, to relieve some distress, or to gratify some desire.
For instance, there can hardly be a doubt that the animals which fight
with their teeth, have acquired the habit of drawing back their ears
closely to their heads, when feeling savage, from their progenitors
having voluntarily acted in this manner in order to protect their ears
from being torn by their antagonists; for those animals which do not
fight with their teeth do not thus express a savage state of mind.
We may infer as highly probable that we ourselves have acquired the habit
of contracting the muscles round the eyes, whilst crying gently,
that is, without the utterance of any loud sound, from our progenitors,
especially during infancy, having experienced, during the act of screaming,
an uncomfortable sensation in their eyeballs. Again, some highly
expressive movements result from the endeavour to cheek or prevent other
expressive movements; thus the obliquity of the eyebrows and the drawing
down of the corners of the mouth follow from the endeavour to prevent
a screaming-fit from coming on, or to cheek it after it has come on.
Here it is obvious that the consciousness and will must at first have come
into play; not that we are conscious in these or in other such cases
what muscles are brought into action, any more than when we perform
the most ordinary voluntary movements.

With respect to the expressive movements due to the principle
of antithesis, it is clear that the will has intervened,
though in a remote and indirect manner. So again with the movements
coming under our third principle; these, in as far as they are
influenced by nerve-force readily passing along habitual channels,
have been determined by former and repeated exertions of the will.
The effects indirectly due to this latter agency are often combined in a
complex manner, through the force of habit and association, with those
directly resulting from the excitement of the cerebro-spinal system.
This seems to be the case with the increased action of the heart
under the influence of any strong emotion. When an animal erects
its hair, assumes a threatening attitude, and utters fierce sounds,
in order to terrify an enemy, we see a curious combination of movements
which were originally voluntary with those that are involuntary.
It is, however, possible that even strictly involuntary actions,
such as the erection of the hair, may have been affected by the mysterious
power of the will.

Some expressive movements may have arisen spontaneously,
in association with certain states of the mind, like the
tricks lately referred to, and afterwards been inherited.
But I know of no evidence rendering this view probable.

The power of communication between the members of the same
tribe by means of language has been of paramount importance
in the development of man; and the force of language is much
aided by the expressive movements of the face and body.
We perceive this at once when we converse on an important subject
with any person whose face is concealed. Nevertheless there are
no grounds, as far as I can discover, for believing that any muscle
has been developed or even modified exclusively for the sake
of expression. The vocal and other sound-producing organs,
by which various expressive noises are produced, seem to form
a partial exception; but I have elsewhere attempted to show
that these organs were first developed for sexual purposes,
in order that one sex might call or charm the other.
Nor can I discover grounds for believing that any inherited movement,
which now serves as a means of expression, was at first voluntarily
and consciously performed for this special purpose,–like some
of the gestures and the finger-language used by the deaf and dumb.
On the contrary, every true or inherited movement of expression
seems to have had some natural and independent origin.
But when once acquired, such movements may be voluntarily
and consciously employed as a means of communication.
Even infants, if carefully attended to, find out at a very
early age that their screaming brings relief, and they soon
voluntarily practise it. We may frequently see a person
voluntarily raising his eyebrows to express surprise, or smiling
to express pretended satisfaction and acquiescence. A man often
wishes to make certain gestures conspicuous or demonstrative,
and will raise his extended arms with widely opened fingers
above his head, to show astonishment, or lift his shoulders
to his ears, to show that he cannot or will not do something.
The tendency to such movements will be strengthened or increased
by their being thus voluntarily and repeatedly performed;
and the effects may be inherited.

It is perhaps worth consideration whether movements at first used
only by one or a few individuals to express a certain state
of mind may not sometimes have spread to others, and ultimately
have become universal, through the power of conscious and
unconscious imitation. That there exists in man a strong tendency
to imitation, independently of the conscious will, is certain.
This is exhibited in the most extraordinary manner in certain
brain diseases, especially at the commencement of inflammatory
softening of the brain, and has been called the “echo sign.”
Patients thus affected imitate, without understanding every
absurd gesture which is made, and every word which is uttered
near them, even in a foreign language.[1] In the case of animals,
the jackal and wolf have learnt under confinement to imitate
the barking of the dog. How the barking of the dog, which serves
to express various emotions and desires, and which is so remarkable
from having been acquired since the animal was domesticated,
and from being inherited in different degrees by different breeds,
was first learnt we do not know; but may we not suspect
that imitation has had something to do with its acquisition,
owing to dogs having long lived in strict association with so
loquacious an animal as man?

[1] See the interesting facts given by Dr. Bateman on
`Aphasia,’ 1870, p. 110.

In the course of the foregoing remarks and throughout this volume,
I have often felt much difficulty about the proper application of
the terms, will, consciousness, and intention. Actions, which were
at first voluntary, soon became habitual, and at last hereditary,
and may then be performed even in opposition to the will.
Although they often reveal the state of the mind, this result was
not at first either intended or expected. Even such words as that
“certain movements serve as a means of expression” are apt to mislead,
as they imply that this was their primary purpose or object.
This, however, seems rarely or never to have been the case;
the movements having been at first either of some direct use,
or the indirect effect of the excited state of the sensorium.
An infant may scream either intentionally or instinctively to show
that it wants food; but it has no wish or intention to draw its
features into the peculiar form which so plainly indicates misery;
yet some of the most characteristic expressions exhibited by man
are derived from the act of screaming, as has been explained.

Although most of our expressive actions are innate or instinctive,
as is admitted by everyone, it is a different question whether we
have any instinctive power of recognizing them. This has generally
been assumed to be the case; but the assumption has been strongly
controverted by M. Lemoine.[2] Monkeys soon learn to distinguish,
not only the tones of voice of their masters, but the expression
of their faces, as is asserted by a careful observer.[3] Dogs well know
the difference between caressing and threatening gestures or tones;
and they seem to recognize a compassionate tone. But as far
as I can make out, after repeated trials, they do not understand
any movement confined to the features, excepting a smile or laugh;
and this they appear, at least in some cases, to recognize.
This limited amount of knowledge has probably been gained, both by
monkeys and dogs, through their associating harsh or kind treatment
with our actions; and the knowledge certainly is not instinctive.
Children, no doubt, would soon learn the movements of expression
in their elders in the same manner as animals learn those of man.
Moreover, when a child cries or laughs, he knows in a general manner
what he is doing and what he feels; so that a very small exertion
of reason would tell him what crying or laughing meant in others.
But the question is, do our children acquire their knowledge of expression
solely by experience through the power of association and reason?

As most of the movements of expression must have been
gradually acquired, afterwards becoming instinctive,
there seems to be some degree of _a priori_ probability that
their recognition would likewise have become instinctive.
There is, at least, no greater difficulty in believing this than
in admitting that, when a female quadruped first bears young,
she knows the cry of distress of her offspring, or than in admitting
that many animals instinctively recognize and fear their enemies;
and of both these statements there can be no reasonable doubt.
It is however extremely difficult to prove that our children
instinctively recognize any expression. I attended to this point
in my first-born infant, who could not have learnt anything
by associating with other children, and I was convinced that
he understood a smile and received pleasure from seeing one,
answering it by another, at much too early an age to have learnt
anything by experience. When this child was about four months old,
I made in his presence many odd noises and strange grimaces,
and tried to look savage; but the noises, if not too loud,
as well as the grimaces, were all taken as good jokes;
and I attributed this at the time to their being preceded
or accompanied by smiles. When five months old, he seemed
to understand a compassionate, expression and tone of voice.
When a few days over six months old, his nurse pretended to cry,
and I saw that his face instantly assumed a melancholy expression,
with the corners of the mouth strongly depressed;
now this child could rarely have seen any other child crying,
and never a grown-up person crying, and I should doubt whether
at so early an age he could have reasoned on the subject.
Therefore it seems to me that an innate feeling must have told
him that the pretended crying of his nurse expressed grief;
and this through the instinct of sympathy excited grief in him.

[2] `La Physionomie et la Parole,’ 1865, pp. 103, 118.

[3] Rengger, `Naturgeschichte der Saugethiere von Paraguay,’ 1830, s. 55.

M. Lemoine argues that, if man possessed an innate knowledge
of expression, authors and artists would not have found it
so difficult, as is notoriously the case, to describe and depict
the characteristic signs of each particular state of mind.
But this does not seem to me a valid argument.
We may actually behold the expression changing in an unmistakable
manner in a man or animal, and yet be quite unable, as I
know from experience, to analyse the nature of the change.
In the two photographs given by Duchenne of the same old man
(Plate III. figs. 5 and 6), almost every one recognized
that the one represented a true, and the other a false smile;
but I have found it very difficult to decide in what the whole
amount of difference consists. It has often struck me as a
curious fact that so many shades of expression are instantly
recognized without any conscious process of analysis on our part.
No one, I believe, can clearly describe a sullen or sly expression;
yet many observers are unanimous that these expressions can be
recognized in the various races of man. Almost everyone to whom I
showed Duchenne’s photograph of the young man with oblique eyebrows
(Plate II. fig. 2) at once declared that it expressed grief
or some such feeling; yet probably not one of these persons,
or one out of a thousand persons, could beforehand have told anything
precise about the obliquity of the eyebrows with their inner
ends puckered, or about the rectangular furrows on the forehead.
So it is with many other expressions, of which I have had
practical experience in the trouble requisite in instructing
others what points to observe. If, then, great ignorance
of details does not prevent our recognizing with certainty
and promptitude various expressions, I do not see how this
ignorance can be advanced as an argument that our knowledge,
though vague and general, is not innate.

I have endeavoured to show in considerable detail that all the chief
expressions exhibited by man are the same throughout the world.
This fact is interesting, as it affords a new argument in favour of
the several races being descended from a single parent-stock, which must
have been almost completely human in structure, and to a large extent
in mind, before the period at which the races diverged from each other.
No doubt similar structures, adapted for the same purpose, have often
been independently acquired through variation and natural selection
by distinct species; but this view will not explain close similarity
between distinct species in a multitude of unimportant details.
Now if we bear in mind the numerous points of structure having no
relation to expression, in which all the races of man closely agree,
and then add to them the numerous points, some of the highest
importance and many of the most trifling value, on which the movements
of expression directly or indirectly depend, it seems to me improbable
in the highest degree that so much similarity, or rather identity
of structure, could have been acquired by independent means.
Yet this must have been the case if the races of man are descended
from several aboriginally distinct species. It is far more probable
that the many points of close similarity in the various races are due
to inheritance from a single parent-form, which had already assumed
a human character.

It is a curious, though perhaps an idle speculation, how early in the long
line of our progenitors the various expressive movements, now exhibited
by man, were successively acquired. The following remarks will at least
serve to recall some of the chief points discussed in this volume.
We may confidently believe that laughter, as a sign of pleasure or enjoyment,
was practised by our progenitors long before they deserved to be called human;
for very many kinds of monkeys, when pleased, utter a reiterated sound,
clearly analogous to our laughter, often accompanied by vibratory movements
of their jaws or lips, with the corners of the mouth drawn backwards
and upwards, by the wrinkling of the cheeks, and even by the brightening
of the eyes.

We may likewise infer that fear was expressed from an extremely remote period,
in almost the same manner as it now is by man; namely, by trembling,
the erection of the hair, cold perspiration, pallor, widely opened eyes,
the relaxation of most of the muscles, and by the whole body cowering
downwards or held motionless.

Suffering, if great, will from the first have caused screams or groans to
be uttered, the body to be contorted, and the teeth to be ground together.
But our progenitors will not have exhibited those highly expressive
movements of the features which accompany screaming and crying until their
circulatory and respiratory organs, and the muscles surrounding the eyes,
had acquired their present structure. The shedding of tears appears
to have originated through reflex action from the spasmodic contraction
of the eyelids, together perhaps with the eyeballs becoming gorged
with blood during the act of screaming. Therefore weeping probably came
on rather late in the line of our descent; and this conclusion agrees with
the fact that our nearest allies, the anthropomorphous apes, do not weep.
But we must here exercise some caution, for as certain monkeys,
which are not closely related to man, weep, this habit might have been
developed long ago in a sub-branch of the group from which man is derived.
Our early progenitors, when suffering from grief or anxiety, would not have
made their eyebrows oblique, or have drawn down the corners of their mouth,
until they had acquired the habit of endeavouring to restrain their screams.
The expression, therefore, of grief and anxiety is eminently human.

Rage will have been expressed at a very early period by threatening
or frantic gestures, by the reddening of the skin, and by glaring eyes,
but not by frowning. For the habit of frowning seems to have been acquired
chiefly from the corrugators being the first muscles to contract round
the eyes, whenever during infancy pain, anger, or distress is felt,
and there consequently is a near approach to screaming; and partly
from a frown serving as a shade in difficult and intent vision.
It seems probable that this shading action would not have become habitual
until man had assumed a completely upright position, for monkeys
do not frown when exposed to a glaring light. Our early progenitors,
when enraged, would probably have exposed their teeth more freely than
does man, even when giving full vent to his rage, as with the insane.
We may, also, feel almost certain that they would have protruded their lips,
when sulky or disappointed, in a greater degree than is the case with
our own children, or even with the children of existing savage races.

Our early progenitors, when indignant or moderately angry,
would not have held their heads erect, opened their chests,
squared their shoulders, and clenched their fists, until they
had acquired the ordinary carriage and upright attitude
of man, and had learnt to fight with their fists or clubs.
Until this period had arrived the antithetical gesture of shrugging
the shoulders, as a sign of impotence or of patience, would not
have been developed. From the same reason astonishment would
not then have been expressed by raising the arms with open hands
and extended fingers. Nor, judging from the actions of monkeys,
would astonishment have been exhibited by a widely opened mouth;
but the eyes would have been opened and the eyebrows arched.
Disgust would have been shown at a very early period by
movements round the mouth, like those of vomiting,–that is,
if the view which I have suggested respecting the source
of the expression is correct, namely, that our progenitors
had the power, and used it, of voluntarily and quickly
rejecting any food from their stomachs which they disliked.
But the more refined manner of showing contempt or disdain,
by lowering the eyelids, or turning away the eyes and face,
as if the despised person were not worth looking at, would not
probably have been acquired until a much later period.

Of all expressions, blushing seems to be the most strictly human;
yet it is common to all or nearly all the races of man, whether or
not any change of colour is visible in their skin. The relaxation
of the small arteries of the surface, on which blushing depends,
seems to have primarily resulted from earnest attention directed
to the appearance of our own persons, especially of our faces,
aided by habit, inheritance, and the ready flow of nerve-force along
accustomed channels; and afterwards to have been extended by the power
of association to self-attention directed to moral conduct.
It can hardly be doubted that many animals are capable of appreciating
beautiful colours and even forms, as is shown by the pains
which the individuals of one sex take in displaying their beauty
before those of the opposite sex. But it does not seem possible
that any animal, until its mental powers had been developed to an
equal or nearly equal degree with those of man, would have closely
considered and been sensitive about its own personal appearance.
Therefore we may conclude that blushing originated at a very late
period in the long line of our descent.

From the various facts just alluded to, and given in the course
of this volume, it follows that, if the structure of our
organs of respiration and circulation had differed in only
a slight degree from the state in which they now exist,
most of our expressions would have been wonderfully different.
A very slight change in the course of the arteries and veins
which run to the head, would probably have prevented the blood
from accumulating in our eyeballs during violent expiration;
for this occurs in extremely few quadrupeds. In this case we should
not have displayed some of our most characteristic expressions.
If man had breathed water by the aid of external branchiae
(though the idea is hardly conceivable), instead of air through
his mouth and nostrils, his features would not have expressed his
feelings much more efficiently than now do his hands or limbs.
Rage and disgust, however, would still have been shown by movements
about the lips and mouth, and the eyes would have become
brighter or duller according to the state of the circulation.
If our ears had remained movable, their movements would have
been highly expressive, as is the case with all the animals
which fight with their teeth; and we may infer that our early
progenitors thus fought, as we still uncover the canine tooth
on one side when we sneer at or defy any one, and we uncover
all our teeth when furiously enraged.

The movements of expression in the face and body, whatever their origin
may have been, are in themselves of much importance for our welfare.
They serve as the first means of communication between the mother
and her infant; she smiles approval, and thus encourages her child
on the right path, or frowns disapproval. We readily perceive sympathy
in others by their expression; our sufferings are thus mitigated and our
pleasures increased; and mutual good feeling is thus strengthened.
The movements of expression give vividness and energy to our spoken words.
They reveal the thoughts and intentions of others more truly than do words,
which may be falsified. Whatever amount of truth the so-called science
of physiognomy may contain, appears to depend, as Haller long ago remarked,[4]
on different persons bringing into frequent use different facial muscles,
according to their dispositions; the development of these muscles being
perhaps thus increased, and the lines or furrows on the face, due to their
habitual contraction, being thus rendered deeper and more conspicuous.
The free expression by outward signs of an emotion intensifies it.
On the other hand, the repression, as far as this is possible, of all outward
signs softens our emotions.[5] He who gives way to violent gestures will
increase his rage; he who does not control the signs of fear will experience
fear in a greater degree; and he who remains passive when overwhelmed
with grief loses his best chance of recovering elasticity of mind.
These results follow partly from the intimate relation which exists between
almost all the emotions and their outward manifestations; and partly from
the direct influence of exertion on the heart, and consequently on the brain.
Even the simulation of an emotion tends to arouse it in our minds.
Shakespeare, who from his wonderful knowledge of the human mind ought
to be an excellent judge, says:–

Is it not monstrous that this player here,
But in a fiction, in a dream of passion,
Could force his soul so to his own conceit,
That, from her working, all his visage wann’d;
Tears in his eyes, distraction in ‘s aspect,
A broken voice, and his whole function suiting
With forms to his conceit? And all for nothing!
_Hamlet_, act ii. sc. 2.

[4] Quoted by Moreau, in his edition of Lavater, 1820, tom. iv. p. 211.

We have seen that the study of the theory of expression
confirms to a certain limited extent the conclusion that man
is derived from some lower animal form, and supports the belief
of the specific or sub-specific unity of the several races;
but as far as my judgment serves, such confirmation was
hardly needed. We have also seen that expression in itself,
or the language of the emotions, as it has sometimes been called,
is certainly of importance for the welfare of mankind.
To understand, as far as possible, the source or origin of
the various expressions which may be hourly seen on the faces
of the men around us, not to mention our domesticated animals,
ought to possess much interest for us. From these several causes,
we may conclude that the philosophy of our subject has well
deserved the attention which it has already received from several
excellent observers, and that it deserves still further attention,
especially from any able physiologist.

[5] Gratiolet (`De la Physionomie,’ 1865, p. 66) insists on the truth
of this conclusion.

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