And again, in the use of stimulants, especially alcohol, in some of its forms, and tobacco, during the period of growth and early manhood. The use of these substances, as well as the subject of education, in their effects upon the nervous system, will be discussed more fully in future chapters, and are only mentioned, in this connection, as causes of nerve degeneration, which have come into operation more fully through the influence of modern civilization.
2. One of the conditions of savage life, is that of a community of interests and supplies, to a large extent. Families and tribes seek for and possess supplies in common; the weaker depend upon the strong, and the strong aid the weak, so that when privations, from failure in the chase and other causes, may come, they affect all together, and generally in like degree. The passion of avarice is in a latent state; those who are strong do not thrive at the expense of those who are less so, while the latter depend upon aid from the former. Wealth and poverty and such distinctions as arise from these civil conditions are unknown.
Under the conditions and customs which pertain to civilized life, how great the contrast! All, or nearly all, is changed. Individuality appears at once. Each and every person, or family, is expected to rely upon his, or its, individual effort for success in obtaining such things as are necessary to comfort and well-being. In this he stands, in a large sense, isolated, and fails, or succeeds, by himself, alone, or with his family.
In other words, community of interests, except in some very indefinite and limited measure, is lost sight of, and swallowed up in those of the individual. In the conduct of life, the strong are almost sure, not only to neglect the weak, but often to tyrannize over them; they become selfish and not unfrequently covetous, and require much for little. The distinctions and conditions of society incident to wealth and poverty, knowledge and ignorance, appear, and the latter too often surrounds its unfortunate victim with such hardships and exposure, as tend rapidly, in too many cases, toward bodily and mental disease.
In this way the struggle incident to the conditions of civilized life, becomes tenfold greater than in savage life, for one portion of the community, and in this struggle, the weaker ones, sooner or later, tend toward the wall. The strong become stronger from the very conditions and influences which surround them, while the weak tend to become weaker, and many are almost sure to fall by the way. Ignorance, poverty, and unhealth are long-time companions, and lean strongly toward immortality.
Under the complicated conditions and antagonizing interests of civilization, the strong make the laws and establish the customs, which become obligatory upon all alike, and these will invariably be of such a character as will, in the long run, discriminate in their own favor. This has been apparent in all the older civilizations, especially in reference to the tenure of land; so that, once owned, always owned, might be considered as the law. Land, once in possession, continues in families for long generations, or indefinitely, unless it revert to the government. In either case its resources in ameliorating the conditions of the poor, and ministering to the productive wealth of the country, are greatly diminished, while under the influence and laws of a larger community of interests, it could be made productive toward the support and comfort of thousands who now live and die in poverty, want, and ignorance, and who, all their lives, from infancy to death, are in those circumstances of privation which render them specially liable to disease of mind.
But not only in respect of land does the tendency to unequal conditions manifest itself; it becomes apparent in reference to property in nearly all its other forms. In the conduct of commerce, manufactures, trade and exchange, in government itself, there exist vast ranges of opportunity unknown to savage life, for the strong to triumph over the weak: To him that hath shall be given, and he shall have an abundance, while from him that hath not shall be taken away even that which he appeareth to have. The rich have an abundance and surfeit, while the poor become poorer, and suffer for the requisites wherewith to become strong, or even to remain in physical health. To the one class pertain all those conditions which serve to invigorate and strengthen, while to the other pertain the opposite ones. To the one belongs abundance in the way of food, clothing, shelter, warmth, pure air, change, and education, while to the other pertain privation, insufficiency of food, impure air, overwork, ignorance, and a never-ending monotony and drudgery of life.
And in the history of the world, thus far, there has never appeared any high states of civilization without these unequal and inharmonious developments. No peoples have as yet ever learned the art of living under the conditions of civilization without them; no peoples have ever passed from the community of interests and possessions, which exists so largely in savage life, up to those conditions which pertain to civil life, except with attendant results similar to those already indicated; and these results are plainly those which tend largely toward the development of mental disease.
If the views presented in the preceding chapter and also in this, in reference to the tendency of insanity to increase, and which statistics appear to confirm, are correct, we perceive at once how important, in relation to both political economy and the future health and happiness of society, becomes the problem of this disease.
As a subject of science and philanthropy, it has for some years engaged the study and interest of many who have been desirous more fully to understand its bearing in both these respects; but in the no distant future, it will become the disease of paramount importance and interest to legislators and political economists; and as there exist reasons for supposing that, under the changing conditions of our modern civilization, it will more surely tend to invade the homes of many who have heretofore been exempt, and will in the future even more surely than in the past, affect all ranks and conditions of society, the increasing importance of making its causes a subject of investigation, and of endeavoring to prevent its increase, even in a limited degree, becomes at once apparent.
It may be remarked at the outset that many of the exciting causes of insanity are uncontrollable. We can do little, or nothing, toward changing or modifying the demands which are made upon us by the business operations of the present; nor toward modifying those great activities which are so loudly calling for development and conduct in life; we cannot do much toward changing the unequal conditions which pertain so largely in relation to property, occupations, and modes of living; or in avoiding the sufferings which result from the bereavements and disappointed expectations of life; we cannot, nor is it desirable, in all respects, if we could, do much to promote community of interests in property. But it is important to bear in mind that, after all, the prime condition of insanity lies, to a large extent, back of these exciting causes. Thousands have passed through such conditions and experiences, have suffered from disappointment and failure in respect to their plans and purposes; have endured exposures and hardships all their lives; all, without becoming insane, and thousands more will continue to do so in the future. It is evident, therefore, that there must exist back of these experiences, a state of the nervous system which renders it susceptible of the disease. This, it is, which is the prime factor in the problem of insanity; and it becomes of the first importance to discover, so far as we may be able to do so, in what this predisposing tendency may consist, or, at least in what ways, or through the operation of what causes, it more especially tends to come into existence and operation to so large an extent at the present time, and by what means it maybe avoided.
In this study we are proceeding along the same road we follow in investigations concerning other diseases. In a philosophical sense, there lies back of all manifestation of diseased action, an antecedent condition, which is the soil from which morbid actions spring. There exist the scrofulous, the phthisical, the gouty, the rheumatic diatheses, and, hence, the question of heredity is of the utmost importance in reference to many forms of disease.
“To many intents and purposes, we are born one generation at least, and generally more, before we come into the world. The soil whence the protoplasm of our grandfathers was formed, has a large significance in reference to ourselves. We limp, because they were gouty; we groan with rheumatic pains, because they slept in damp rooms; the neuralgic twinges of their fifth pair of nerves extend over into ours. The acid of the grapes, which our fathers ate, has acted on the enamel of our bicuspids and molars. That intangible tendency to weakness, to unhealth, so indefinable, so delicate, so inappreciable to our senses, is yet the mightiest factor in our being, and measures the amount of our physical pains and sufferings with a greater delicacy than we have been wont to think. It is the match, which needs only to be rubbed,—or the tinder waiting for the spark,—or the acid for the alkali.
On no other theory are we able to explain the effects, or absence of effect, from the exciting causes of disease. For instance: in one case cold produces neuralgia, in another rheumatism, in another pneumonia, in yet another bronchitis, and in the fifth person no morbid action at all. Now in these several persons there must have existed a primary or induced condition of the several parts affected, of such a nature, that a common cause, acting upon all alike, yet produced widely different results.
“Again, two persons may be exposed to the same atmospheric conditions, or be brought within a similar miasmatic influence, resulting in the one case in fever; in the other, in nothing. The miasm or poison was doubtless present in both systems alike, and, perhaps, in similar quantity, and yet in one case with no appreciable effect, and in the other, creating an illness which may continue for weeks or months. It is evident that there must have been, in the last case, a condition of the system which rendered the action of the miasm possible, and without which, it would have been entirely, or nearly, inert. In fact, strictly speaking, this cause, or antecedent condition, is rather a part of the disease itself, and cannot, in fairness, be separated from it. For, if disease be abnormal action, either in the structure or function of an organ, whether sufficient to be recognized or not, subjectively or objectively, then this weakness, inherited or acquired, becomes the chief factor, and those changes, which are sufficiently gross to be observed by our senses, and which we are accustomed to term disease, are only the remaining factors of it.”[3]
I apply the same course of reasoning in relation to that necessarily antecedent condition of the brain, which renders it especially liable to become diseased through the operation of those ordinary exciting causes, which, to a greater or less extent, surround the lives of all persons, and which we term the Insane Diathesis. It becomes necessary, therefore, to study this peculiar condition of the brain, first, as to its nature, and, second, as to some of those causes which tend especially to create it.
THE INSANE DIATHESIS.
CHAPTER IV.
THE INSANE DIATHESIS.
The ideal human system would be one of perfection, that is, it would be one so constituted as to discharge all its functions perfectly. Yet, its capacities would be limited as they now are, though not to the same extent. Digestion of such articles of food as the system requires would be perfect, though this might not be true as to many other articles, which are appropriate as food for other animals. Sight and hearing would be perfect, but only within certain ranges and distances; memory would be perfect in reference to every thing comprehended and understood. The limitations would be dependent on the inherent nature of the organism, in its relation to the external world. What is stated above as true, in relation to certain parts of the system, would be equally true of the functions of all parts of the human system, both physical and psychical.
Now, the actual human system approaches toward this ideal one in a greater or less degree. It possesses all the faculties, both physical and psychical, but they are tainted with imperfections, and their health varies from the highest state attainable, down to some assumed standard, below which we say that a diseased condition exists. It will, however, be observed, and hereafter more definitely appear, that this border-line is merely one of assumption. No definite standard can be applied to all persons, and a condition which would be normal for one person may not be so for another. Besides, the actual condition of many persons is one of changing stability, both in respect of the body and the mind, and this may depend upon causes which operate from either within or without.
A few simple statements in reference to differences existing among persons, as to those physical and mental conditions which are inherited, may be in point, and prepare the way for other considerations.
I. Though we may not be able to determine the causes of these differences, yet it is quite evident that there exists, from the time of birth, the largest diversity in reference to the physical constitution of persons: while some are strong and vigorous, and capable of large effort, and of enduring exposure to the heat and cold with almost indifference, others are so delicate and sensitive as to be easily affected by such influences; while the muscles of some are susceptible of making the most delicate and difficult movements in all mechanical operations, with very little training or education, those of others can never be trained sufficiently to be able to accomplish them; the skin and the lungs of some persons are so constituted as to be easily influenced by such degrees of moisture and cold as have little or no such effect on those of others; the capacity for labor, and endurance, also varies very largely.
Again, these physical conditions are more or less variable with many persons. They are conscious of feeling more active and vigorous, of experiencing a larger degree of pleasure in physical activity at one time than at another; they may be conscious of more or less painful sensations, experience a measure of indisposition to make effort; they may be more restless and uneasy, and feel discomfort from slight causes which had rarely before produced such results.
In short, there may exist not only a difference in the constitution of the different organs of the body, but these natural conditions are more or less changeful in their states, within certain limits, while still in a state of health. There may exist a condition of over-activity, or of under-activity, in any or all portions of the body, and from the operation of causes, the nature of which we are entirely ignorant, and concerning which persons do not much care, so long as they do not experience so much discomfort as to be unfitted for their usual occupations and pleasures. Such experiences are common with many persons, who yet remain in a condition of health.
Passing now to the conditions of the mental side of the human system, we find, in what are called healthy states, that there exists as broad a diversity of character as in the physical. While some apprehend any thing a little abstruse with great difficulty, or fail to do so at all, others understand it with a readiness which we are accustomed to call intuition; while many occurrences seem merely to impinge upon and glance off the minds of some persons never to be remembered again, they pass from the minds of others only after long years, or remain through life.
Some persons always look upon and judge of occurrences and results in an unusual way. They are odd or singular in their mental constitution, and are accustomed to do odd and out-of-the-way things just as naturally as others would do the same things in such a manner as to attract no attention. Some persons see, hear, taste, touch, and smell so much more quickly and delicately than others, that we must conclude there exists a radical difference in the perfection of the organization of the nerve-cells of these various organs of special sense.
Again, there are periods in the experience of some persons, when they see, hear, touch, taste, and smell with much greater readiness and delicacy than at other times, even in a state of so-called health. Musical sounds are more delicate and pleasing; harsh and rough sounds are more harsh and rough; certain articles of food produce a keener sense of relish, and colors a greater sense of pleasure: all of which would indicate temporary changes in the structure or function of the nerve element comprising these special organs of sense.
The same is true to even a larger extent of the emotional nature. Persons, in certain states of the nervous system, are pleased with persons, objects, and sensations, which afford them no pleasure at other times; they are displeased and pained, while in other conditions, with sentiments which would at other times produce no such effect. They sometimes feel that the world and its possessions and pleasures are so great and grand that they can never leave them, and the thought of doing so causes the keenest anguish; while in another state all these pleasures and possessions appear as empty and valueless as a bubble of air, and the thought of leaving them, and throwing off the burdens and cares of life, which are usually so much enjoyed, seems almost pleasurable.
Again, some persons have periods of being irritable, restless, nervous; they cannot bear much; little incidents which, in other conditions of the nervous system, they would think little or nothing of, turn them into a passion of excitement, which can hardly be controlled for the time being. In other states they may long to weep, or to be in solitude where they cannot be disturbed; or they may shout, and laugh, and talk, while thoughts come coursing through the brain so fast that words fail in their expression.
The same changes occur among the impulses; these are at times almost irresistible. Nearly every one, while standing on a high cliff or house-top, has felt an impulse to jump off or push his friend off, reckless of the consequences.
In the usual condition of the nervous system persons love their children and relatives, and are ready to do and suffer and at times even to die for them, if need be, while at other times all these sentiments fade away, so that they are unconscious of them, and even the opposite sentiment of dislike or hatred takes their place.
Periods of mental lethargy come over many persons at times, so that they care neither to talk nor engage in any of their usual intellectual or physical pursuits; and such stimuli as are usually sufficient to rouse the brain into action appear to have very little effect. They feel and say that there is a state of only partial brain-activity. At other times the brain acts with the greatest freedom; occurrences which took place long years before, and which, perhaps, have not been thought of since, come back with all the freshness of yesterday. Thoughts come rapidly. Keen flashes of wit, bright scintillations of thought, forms of expression of unusual felicity, pour forth spontaneously, while the mind apprehends and retains many kinds of knowledge with the greatest readiness. Similar variations take place in reference to courage and its opposite, timidity; truthfulness and suspicion; and, in fact, the whole range of mental endowments.
Now all this grand play of diverse emotions and conditions in the psychical functions takes place in a state of health; still, there can be no doubt that it comes from an unstable condition of the nervous elements of the brain, or from changes produced in some manner in these varied and delicate structures. It may be from varying states which are constantly occurring in the blood, in the processes of reception and elimination; or from those delicate chemical operations which must be forever going on in the nerve elements of the brain hemispheres, affecting their recipient and sensitive capacities; or it may be from other unknown causes: and these changes occur much more readily and frequently in some persons than in others.
Bearing in mind, now, these conditions of the physical and mental systems, the tendencies to which are inherited, and more or less changeful in character, we may proceed a step farther.
This unstable condition, both physical and mental, may exist not only as an inherited condition, but it may be produced, or become greatly increased by causes external to the system, which are brought into contact so as to influence it.
A few illustrations may serve to make this more clear:
1. When a person who has not been accustomed to use the muscles of the arm in active and vigorous exercise, lifts, or makes a strong effort to lift, a heavy weight, if the effort is continued any considerable length of time, two conditions result therefrom:
First, a state of tremulousness, or spasm of the arm, hand, and especially of the fingers. The largest effort the individual can make toward controlling this irregularity of movement, is insufficient, and these parts remain in a condition of more or less spasmodic action, until the nervous energy is restored.
Second, there results a sensation of pain, more or less severe, according to the time the exertion has continued. This would indicate positive injury, to some extent, in the nerve filaments of the muscles which have been so unusually exercised. The degree of effect will be dependent upon the condition of the nerves of the hand and arm at the time the effort is made, and upon the amount of force expended.
If the effort is repeated soon, there will result a similar condition, and ultimately the nerve would cease to respond to the call for action in any degree,—the arm would be paralyzed.
2. All are more or less familiar with that condition which is usually termed the writer’s cramp. Sometimes persons of a peculiar nervous organization, who have been accustomed to spend many hours a day in the mechanical process of writing, experience such a loss of nervous energy that the arm fails to respond to the will power. There results spasmodic and irregular movements in the arm, and more especially in the fingers, indicating that some morbid condition of the median nerve has been produced. If the case is neglected, and the exciting causes continue in operation, after awhile the nerve will become less and less responsive to the call of the will, and the arm may become seriously affected, after a longer or shorter period of more or less pain. In this case, as in the former one, there may exist all degrees of impairment of nerve function, from that of slight unsteadiness or instability, up to entire failure.
3. The condition of the nervous system in chorea presents another illustration. Between the ages of ten and fifteen years, in some children, there may occur such changes in the condition of the nervous element, from the altered character of the blood, as to render it more or less unstable in some portion. One arm or one leg, or a hand, or some of the muscles of the face or neck, cannot be kept long at rest by any effort which can be exerted by the individual, and this may be so slight as scarcely to attract attention, or it may be so great as to cause extreme suffering for a long time, and ultimately destroy life.
Now the primary condition in the above cases is one of instability of nerve function. Such a change has occurred in the elemental tissue of the nerve, as to injure its power of activity so far as it is under the control of the will. The nerve has been stimulated to over-activity, or its energy impaired by other causes arising within the system itself.
These illustrations have related to those portions of the nervous system which are more immediately connected with motion, and which, consequently, are located in the muscular system. If, now, we pass from these portions of the nervous system up to its grand centre, or that part of it whose function is connected with mental operations, we shall find similar effects resulting from like causes.
If a person experiences a sudden mental shock, occasioned, it may be, by sad intelligence of some kind, or if he passes suddenly through some great personal peril, or if he has made unusual mental effort in some abstruse study, or in the conduct of business, which has been long protracted, he becomes conscious of what is called mental fatigue. The brain refuses to respond to any calls which may be made upon it for further action, or partially refuses; it becomes confused and bewildered, and unsteady in its action; it is difficult to force it to further application, or to connected lines of thought, and if, by a strong effort of the will, this is done during a short time, it is inclined soon to wander from the subject, and there exists a more or less distinctly recognized sensation of pain as well as inability to regulate its action.
In this case, also, as in the others, there may result any degree of effect, from a sensation of fatigue up to mental spasm, and the amount will depend on the condition of the brain during the time the effect continues, and its intensity. The two conditions of instability and pain may be less marked in the case of the brain than in the nerves of motion, but there can be little doubt there has resulted something of a similar character in both.
Precisely in what this change which has taken place consists, may not be easily determined. There may have occurred actual lesion of nerve element, or only impairment or exhaustion of functional power without lesion; probably the latter condition only, in the primary stages of the operation. Certain portions of the brain have been over-stimulated in action, and consequently their power of normal activity and stability is impaired, as was seen in the cases of nerves distributed to the muscles of the arm and other portions of the body.
II. Again, if the arm or hand of a vigorous person, which has long been trained to make either large efforts, or the more delicate movements, or again, to make but little effort in any direction, be placed in splints, or be suspended in a sling so that there is little or no activity for a few weeks, more or less, there results a failure of nerve-function; and there may be any degree of impairment, from that of slight degree, such as may be evinced by spasm, to that of paralysis.
The same is true in reference to any portion of the nervous system which can be placed in a state of inactivity.
A few sentences of recapitulation in our process of reasoning will now be in order.
1. We have seen that imperfection and instability of nerve-function may be inherited; that weakness, or impairment, exists with many persons from the time of birth, which affects more or less the functions of the various portions of the nervous system; and that this is seen not only in the mechanical operations of the hand and arm, in the execution of all the more delicate movements of which it may be susceptible, but also in the mental operations. By no possible amount of training can the nerves of the arm in certain persons be educated to do the finer portions of mechanism, any more than can their brains be educated to continuous or concentrated thought on the solution of problems in the higher mathematics; that the broadest diversity as to strength and steadiness of nerve-function exists from the period of childhood to old age: while the nerves and brains of some bear long-continued and large effort without disturbance or failure of function, these portions of the system in others soon manifest the effects of such treatment, and ere long break down; and there may exist any degree of difference, from the manifestations of genius, to those of imbecility.
2. We have also observed that disturbance and imperfection of nerve-function may be produced in all persons by the action of causes operating from without upon the nervous system, and that the results may be similar in character, whether there has been too great or too little exercise of function.
It will further be observed, that we have in a definite and somewhat continuous line passed from the production of disturbance and irregularity of the function of simple motion in the hand and arm, up to the more complicated and less understood activities of the hemispheres of the brain. We have seen that there exists at least a similarity in the exhibition of failure in the functions of execution in both cases, whether acquired or inherited.
I think there can be little doubt that there exists some such condition of that portion of the brain which is concerned in mental operations, as I have in a somewhat crude manner attempted to illustrate, which is the primary condition in a large number of persons who become insane. Precisely in what it may consist during the earlier stages we may not be able to explain. There doubtless is no change which can be termed organic in either the nerve cell or any other portion of the substance of the brain during the primary stages of this failure in function, but rather an exhaustion or lack in functional power, which after a longer or shorter period may lead to organic change of structure.
Now we have only to suppose a person with a nervous system so constituted that these conditions, which I have described as temporarily occurring with many persons from exciting causes, are permanent, though in a latent state, and we have that peculiar organization which we term The Insane Diathesis. That is, we have a nervous system so sensitively constituted, and illy adjusted with its surroundings, that when brought in contact with unusually exciting influences, there may occur deranged instead of natural mental action, and it becomes more or less continuous instead of evanescent.
The mind passes from the control of the will, and wanders hither and thither, or persistently holds on in one channel of thought. Its action may become spasmodic and irregular in all degrees from slight aberrations, or excitement, up to incoherence and mental spasm; or from slight degrees of depression, down to almost inactivity and dementia: in short, such abnormal conditions of mental activity as constitute insanity.
The husband hates his wife, and the wife her husband; the parent his child, and the child the parent. We have the person, whose brain is so perverted in its action that he feels no pleasure and experiences no satisfaction in life, but hates it, and longs to throw off its burdens and cares, and leaves no effort untried to accomplish it; while another is so filled with joyous emotion, his brain is so excited in functional activity, that he can neither eat nor sleep, but ideas flow forth in one constant stream of words—words; bright visions appear on every side, and his life is worth a thousand worlds. Or, we may have any other of the ten thousand perverted mental activities which attend the “mind diseased.”
“And he * * * (a short tale to make)
Fell into a sadness; then into a fast;
Thence into a watch; thence into a weakness;
Thence into a lightness; and by this declination
Into a madness, whereon he now raves
And we all mourn for.”
In the above view, there does not appear to be any well-defined, sharply bounded line between what is termed normal and abnormal mental activity in its primary stage. The one insensibly merges into the other, while both depend upon the physiological condition of the brain for the time being. When that portion of it which is immediately concerned in thought is in what is termed a healthy state, that is, a condition in which its involuntary functions are normally performed and under the control of the will, then we have healthy mind; and, vice versa, when it varies from this condition, either from the effect of influences which have been inherited or acquired, then we have for the time, abnormal mind. Thousands are born into the world with brains so constituted as to become easily deranged by external influences and experiences, and thousands more attain to such conditions of the brain, from the frictions of life, and abuse of its enjoyments and requirements.
If these views, in relation to the principal condition of insanity, are correct, it is evident that the question of largest interest in relation to its prevention, relates, not so much to the long catalogue of exciting or secondary causes, as to the avoidance of such courses of life, habits, and tendencies of society, as specially assist to develop and perpetuate this diathesis. It now becomes necessary to suggest and discuss, more or less fully, some of the influences which are in operation in modern modes of education and habits of life, and which have a special tendency to create this condition of the brain. I shall first refer to some points in connection with present methods of education as related to the young.
THE INFLUENCE OF EDUCATION.
CHAPTER V.
THE INFLUENCE OF EDUCATION.
The highest conception of an education would include the idea of its being symmetrical; that is, that the psychical and physical should be trained together and in harmony; that the system should be considered and educated as a whole, the brain not being stimulated in its cultivation at the expense of the body, or neglected while the latter is in process of development. If both are educated together, and with due proportion of attention to the laws of development and growth of each, then they will be in the most favorable condition to withstand the effects of the wear and tear which come in the lives of all.
That the courses of education at present pursued in the larger number of our select and common schools, especially those located in cities and large towns, are of this character, will hardly be claimed by persons who study educational systems and processes from a physiological and sanitary point of view.
At five or six years of age, and while for some years the system must be in the formative, growing period of its existence, the child is confined five hours a day on a hard seat or chair, in a room often illy ventilated and irregularly heated. During the larger portion of this time he or she is expected to have the mind occupied in study, or recitation, which is quite equivalent to study. In addition to this, after the child arrives at the age of ten or twelve years, tasks of such extent and difficulty are imposed, that it becomes necessary to study one or two hours during the evening. I think that most persons, with much experience in intellectual occupations, will agree with me, that six hours a day are quite enough for an adult mind to be occupied, with advantage, in study. I am confident it will be found that our most successful clergymen, lawyers, and littérateurs, though at times a more protracted period of mental effort may be necessary, yet, as a rule, do not spend a longer period daily in intellectual efforts.
Yet in the education of our little children, we find that both teachers and parents, in their blind ambition to hurry them forward, conspire in imposing tasks of such a character and magnitude as to require longer hours of study than we know to be best for the adult brain.[4]
I believe, however, that the largest mischief does not come from the length of time occupied in confinement and study, great as this may be. A still larger defect in the system lies in the multiplicity of the subjects studied and the lack of sufficient individuality in its administration.
In the graded schools children are parcelled out in numbers ranging from forty to sixty in one room, and put under the charge of one teacher. The system is too purely a mechanical one; all must come in, go out, rise up and sit down, study, and recite in very large classes. There is no room or time for individuality in any department of study, and very little in any recitation. Each one goes on with the whole, or he drops out and back, while the half-exhausted teacher has neither time nor opportunity to bestow the little attention and aid which would often be of so much value.
No teacher can do even half justice to any such number of children, and I presume it is not expected he will. His task appears to be to find that in some way or other the pupil seems to be able to recite his lesson, and if not, that he work at it until he does; and if the unfortunate one fails, see that he goes back to a lower class. Now, doubtless, one or two out of every five of these fifty or sixty children will be able to press on with comparative ease and health through all the studies which all are expected to master, but for the other three or four of the five, there exists a large tendency toward confusion of mind and imperfect knowledge, rather than those clear conceptions and definite understanding which tend to give vigor and strength of brain.
In this respect, I believe the educational process of fifty years ago was better than that of to-day. The teacher had a much smaller number of pupils, and, consequently, had better opportunity to study the peculiarities and tendencies of individual minds: he was better able to appreciate their deficiencies and the consequent needs each had. Fewer books were read, and these of such a character as was adapted to strengthen the memory; fewer subjects were studied, and there was time to more thoroughly understand and fully master them. Facts and processes attained were clear and definite, and there were less confused and half-understood lessons and theories, so that, as the mind became more mature, it went out for larger fields and broader pastures of knowledge.
They, doubtless, did not have much information as to the movements of the heavenly bodies, or of the names of insignificant towns, hamlets, or rivers on the eastern or western coast of Africa. They might not be able to define the boundaries of Kamtchatka, nor give the pluperfect of a large number of irregular verbs; but, on the other hand, their brains were clear and active, and possessed a recipient capacity. They were not crammed or confused by the dim memories of a vast multitude of names or facts which, by no possibility, could have any important bearing on their future lives or fortunes.
Knowledge, to be of much practical value to its possessor, must be clear and definite in the mind. When only partially understood or dimly perceived by the mind, it tends rather to confuse and weaken than invigorate; consequently, during the earlier periods of life, study in our schools should be confined to a comparatively few subjects, and there should be opportunity for the teacher to see that the scholar receives such individual attention as will enable him to fully master the allotted tasks. We must ever bear in mind that the grand object in attending school is, physiologically considered, to make the brain vigorous and stable in its operations, and as little liable to instability and irregular action as possible. Any course of training, during this early formative period of life, which tends to crowd the brain or stimulate it to over-activity, must tend to after-weakness and instability.
This leads me to protest against the modern tendency to continually increase the requirements for entering and continuing in the graded schools of our cities. The number of dates and names, relating as they often do to many different subjects of study, and the amount of writing in a short space of time, tend to mental confusion; and while the number of studies is increased, the time for their acquisition must remain unchanged, so that the scholar is hurried on through or dropped by the way. To avoid this latter result, too great and too protracted mental effort is necessary on the part of some children, while in many cases the results are manifested in a state of mental confusion and uncertainty, or a nervous, hysterical condition.
I have in mind at this writing cases which will illustrate my point. One was that of a young lady of ordinary mental endowments, whose parents usually brought her to me for advice as often as every two or three weeks, because she was nervous, and suffered from frequent and protracted headaches. Inquiry elicited the fact that she was obliged to study during the evening until ten or eleven o’clock to accomplish the tasks which were assigned to her class. It was thought by the parents that this practice was all right, that it evinced faithfulness and ambition, and it was with much difficulty that I could convince either her or her parents that her ill-health was due to the constant violation of the laws of health; that her brain and whole nervous system required longer periods of repose and quiet at her age than it would be likely to need later; that the future of her whole life as a member of society might, and must, in a large degree, depend, not on the grade of the marks she might receive in her daily recitations, but largely on the nervous and physical strength she might be able to build up before she should become twenty-one years of age. This young lady was of a healthy parentage, and inherited a good physique, and with proper habits of life and study would have had excellent health. As it is, her system will not for years, if ever, recover from the effects of her habits of excessive hours of study.
The name of another patient occurs to me: a young man of good parentage, and apparently inheriting a good constitution. He was ambitious in study, and his parents permitted him to do all he might choose to. He entered college at sixteen, standing among the best scholars of his class, but before the end of the first year, began to be troubled with noises in his head and confusion of mind. He was removed from college, and remained out till the end of the year, but partially kept up his studies at home. He entered the sophomore class but was obliged to leave earlier in the course than before. He tried the junior year with a like result, and from this time exhibited more pronounced indications of mental impairment. He travelled both in this country and in Europe; he consulted some of the most eminent physicians, but all to no purpose; the mischief had been too effectually accomplished. The delicate tissues of the brain had been over-strained, and so impaired that when his parents awoke to the gravity of his condition, it was too late to repair the mischief.
I have under my care at the present time a young girl, thirteen years of age, who has come to me from one of the seminaries for girls in New England. She informs me that the pupils in that institution are required to spend eight or more hours a day in study and recitation, and some portion more of every day in household work, and that she was permitted to study and recite some ten hours a day, as she was behind her class in some of the studies when she entered.
It is not surprising that in less than one year she returned to her home, suffering from headaches, cold feet, nervousness, and inability to sleep, and in a short time became so excitable and incoherent in thought and language, that it became necessary to remove her from home. After a long period of rest with appropriate treatment, she has become so strong that she will soon go into the country, where I have directed that she remain for one or two years without study, in the hope that the nervous system may regain its health under the influence of a life spent largely in the open air.[5]
A young man, standing, so far as was indicated by marks, in the front rank of his class, had strength of brain barely to graduate, and then for years was able to do but little study, and spent his time in a vain search for that health which by judicious habits in study he would never have lost. Many other cases of similar character could be cited if it was necessary to adduce additional confirmation of my views.
I desire, however, not only to call attention to, and greatly emphasize, the effects of study so far as they may manifest themselves on the individuals themselves, but the effects which these persons are certain to transmit to their posterity. The brain may and does, in many cases, so far recover that it may fairly do the work, or a work in life, but it has attained a bias—a twist,—which will be seen to manifest itself in the next generation in something more than a twist; it will be an insane diathesis—a brain constituted in so unstable a manner, that the friction of ordinary life will upset it, ending in insanity.
I have often thought that teachers are only partially to blame, as they are countenanced and encouraged by the parents in this injudicious course of mental stimulation in early life. Especially is this the case if a child happens to be so fortunate—I perhaps should rather say unfortunate—as to have in any measure a higher order of mind than his fellows; he is likely to be the theme of conversation, in relation to his studies, not only in his own home, but with all the cousins, aunts, and neighbors, until finally the child comes to form altogether a false estimate as to the importance of its own attainments and ability. It is quite possible, also, that the freedom of our educational and governmental institutions may serve to help it on. Every child is taught, at home and in school, that all the prizes of life are within his grasp, if he will only make the requisite effort, while every parent is anxious to have his child higher up in the social scale than he is. These conditions not unfrequently serve to stimulate those specially ambitious to over-exertion, while again, there is less of the controlling element, both at home and in social life, than exists under most other forms of government.
It becomes necessary here to refer to the system, so universally prevalent in our colleges, of competition in grades of scholarship. I do this with greater reluctance, knowing very well how fully men of long experience have studied the subject, and how extremely difficult it may be to devise and carry into operation any plan which may prove to be more desirable for all concerned.
In any considerable number of boys, from the ages of fifteen to twenty-two years, there will be some who realize so little the objects and benefits to be obtained through the discipline of study, that they will care little for honors or standards of scholarship, and are in no possible danger of over-exertion to obtain them. With such persons we need not concern ourselves at present.
On the other hand there are those who so fully appreciate the grand advantages resulting from an education, that they would be sure to do a fair amount of labor, and honestly employ their time, under almost any system of management. Now it is from the latter class, that come the students who are to attain to and hold the positions of influence in after-life, and too great care cannot be exercised that their characteristics of mind be judiciously brought into exercise and strength. They are, for the most part, ambitious; and in many cases this ambition stimulates them to the largest effort to carry off the prizes which may come in the way of scholarship during their college course.
These prizes frequently depend on extremely small differences in proficiency which may be obtained, in many cases, over long periods of time. It is understood that it is commonly the case that the differences in scholarship of those who obtain the highest five or six honors in college are often very small, and that these honors may be assigned to one or to another by failure or success on some point, the knowledge concerning which could by no possibility have any influence in after-life, and which must be but an imperfect indication of true scholarship and mental ability; and yet so strong is the power of ambition as to lead some few of the highest minds, in almost every class, to neglect the commonest laws of health in reference to physical exercise and sleep, that they may secure these temporary honors. The brain is stimulated to long and weary hours of study by the effects of tea or coffee, or in some cases by the use of more objectionable substances, when regard for health would require it to be in a state of repose and sleep; and this is during the period of life when it has not yet attained to its full growth, and while its substance is still in a more sensitive and delicate condition, and consequently more likely to be unfavorably affected by such treatment than in the maturity of later life.
From personal observation I am satisfied that some of the brightest minds are essentially ruined for the accomplishment of any large work in life by such a course of conduct in their education, who, under some other course of management, in which these mental tendencies could have been better understood and guided, might have been saved; and that often these are minds with the best natural endowments.
How it is possible that instructors of young persons can suppose that any larger power of intellect, or any greater capacity for usefulness in after-life, can possibly be secured by such treatment, or rather by such abuse of the organ of the mind, or why they have not been more careful to instruct those under their care as to this most important of all subjects to them in their future work, it is not easy to imagine, and can only be accounted for by the supposition that they have not studied the subject carefully enough in its physiological relations.
It should always be borne in mind that excessive use or stimulation of any part or organ of the system can in no sense be considered as education of it, but as a sin against its nature, which will be sure to require retribution. It may be made to accomplish more in a given time, but it must be at a discount on its future activity; there must come a reaction, that is, a condition in which there will be performed less of function than before; and that such a course of treatment has a tendency to produce a condition of instability, and more or less of uncertainty of action.
Within the last twenty years there appears to have come, in some measure, a reaction in reference to exclusive attention to brain discipline, and in favor of more attention to physical exercise during the college curriculum. There have been organized in most of the colleges and academies, boating clubs, base-ball clubs, and other associations with the avowed object of securing a higher state of physical development and education. This has been a step in the right direction, and none too soon have we come to realize the fact that the brain depends very largely upon the health of the body for its exercise of the best thought. The importance of a physical education will be more fully referred to hereafter, but at this stage of the subject it is pertinent to suggest that violent use of the muscles for short periods is generally not the best mode of exercise; that the sudden expenditure of so much nervous force in training and in contests, as is necessary in order to secure the highest attainable power in rapidity, skill, and strength of stroke, during a half or one hour; or to attain the highest skill in throwing a ball, or in receiving it in hand, or in many other of the manœuvres of base-ball playing, which require such quick changes of position, and violent motion of the body, is in great danger of ultimately defeating the very object for which they are ostensibly practised.
The skill and power may be obtained, and the winning crew or club may have the satisfaction of receiving the welcome plaudits or the crowning laurels bestowed on victors, but how far all this will prove to be of service in securing either strength or health of body, may be a question; or rather it will not be a question at all. In nine out of every ten cases there exists almost a certainty that a larger measure of physical health and capacity of endurance in after-life would have been attained by some other course, or method, attended with less stimulation and expenditure of nerve-force. The period of reaction no less surely comes than in cases of other kinds of stimulation, and is frequently manifested in functional or organic derangements of the heart and other organs. Healthy and continuous muscular power comes more surely by the expenditure of a medium amount of nerve-force, and no other method can properly be considered as physical education.
Lest, however, it may be thought I have placed too much importance in this matter of over-study and nervous exertion, and to show that we Americans are not the only ones at fault, I will here introduce some statements from an English physician[6] of the highest authority.
He says: “The master of a private school informs me that he has proof of the effects of overwork in the fact of boys being withdrawn from the keen competition of a public-school career, which was proving injurious to their health, and sent to him, that they might, in the less ambitious atmosphere of a private school, pick up health and strength again. He refers to instances of boys who had been crammed and much pressed in order that they might enter a certain form or gain a desired exhibition, having reached the goal successfully and then stagnated.” He further says: “Too many hours’ daily study, and the knowledge of an approaching examination, when the system is developing and requiring an abundance of good air and exercise, easily accounts for pale and worn looks, frequent headache, disturbed sleep, nightmare, and nervous fears. When the career of such students does not end in graduating in a lunatic asylum, they lose for years, possibly always, the elasticity and buoyancy of spirits essential to robust health. A strong constitution may be sacrificed to supposed educational necessities.”
“Mr. Burndell Carter,[7] in his ‘Influence of Education and Training in Promoting Diseases of the Nervous System,’ speaks of a large public school in London from which boys of ten to twelve years of age carry home tasks which would occupy them till near midnight, and of which the rules and laws of study are so arranged as to preclude the possibility of sufficient recreation. The teacher in a high school says that the host of subjects in which parents insist on instruction being given to their children is simply preposterous, and disastrous alike to health and to real steady progress in necessary branches of knowledge. The other day I met an examiner in the street with a roll of papers consisting of answers and questions. He deplored the fashion of the day; the number of subjects crammed within a few years of growing life; the character of the questions which were frequently asked, and the requiring a student to master, at the peril of being rejected, scientific theories and crude speculations which they would have to unlearn in a year or two. He sincerely pities the unfortunate students. During the last year or two, the public have been startled by the number of suicides which have occurred on the part of young men preparing for examination at the University of London, and the press has spoken out strongly on the subject. Notwithstanding this, the authorities appear to be disposed to increase instead of diminish the stringency of some of the examinations.”
These statements were made as showing a tendency on the part of the prevalent modes of education in England, to produce in its subjects either insanity or a tendency toward it. I here reproduce them as confirmatory of my own views already expressed, and would especially call attention to the fact that though this influence may fail in producing actual insanity, yet it is of such a character as will tend to develop instability of brain tissue, and in the coming generation the insane diathesis. Parents transmit acquired tendencies toward disease as well as, and indeed I think more frequently than, disease itself.
I must beg, however, not to be misunderstood. I think I appreciate the importance of an education for the development and discipline of the brain as profoundly as any one. I believe the lack of brain discipline for those who are to compete in the midst of such a civilization as that of the present, is one of the greatest misfortunes; but I do desire to protest with much emphasis against the system of indiscriminate cramming toward which the schools appear to be so rapidly drifting. It defeats one of the most important ends to be sought. It tends to confusion and weakness of mind instead of strength. Children have so many subjects to learn about, that they do not have time to fully understand subjects studied. The brain is occupied so many hours daily that its energy is exhausted, and there remains little ability to accurately appreciate, discriminate, or fix the attention.
The same conditions result, as there would from the too long and continuous use of the muscles of the arm, when one is learning to execute a piece of delicate work—the drawing of a picture, or making a work of art. In such a case the importance of only limited periods of application would be readily appreciated; great care would be exercised by the teacher lest the pupil should continue the work too long, or after the muscles had become weary and consequently incapable of accurate work.
We observe the same care in our treatment of the young of domestic animals, and are watchful that they be not over-driven or over-worked while their systems are undeveloped and in the growing period. When one is looking for the best growth, or the highest strength or speed attainable, if judicious, much vigilance will be exercised lest the animal be over-driven or worked many hours a day, until the system is developed and firmly knit together. Shall we be less careful or less wise in our treatment of children?
Surely, there should not be need that I plead for such a course of education as will render the brain stronger and more capable of vigorous work in life, and of transmitting to another generation a sound mental organization, instead of, as is too often the case, a tendency to unstable and irregular action, which will have a final ending in insanity. That this may be the outcome of education there must be changes in the present system, and I plead earnestly that these may relate to at least two things, if no more: first, a larger measure of individuality,—smaller schools and fewer pupils for each teacher, that each may have more special assistance and special training; and, second, a less number of subjects of study. Let there be fewer subjects studied, and let what is studied be more thoroughly mastered. Have fewer half-understood problems and half-remembered lessons, and I believe we shall have more stable brains and stronger intellects in after-life.
INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION.