DREADS OF MEN OF GENIUS
The insane are particularly prone to suffer from dreads, so that some people argue from their dreads to the thought of insanity. It is quite a mistake, however, to think of dreads as necessarily connected with insanity in any way. They are irrational though they will commonly be found to be dependent on some special physical condition. This is usually some exaggeration of attention to a sensation natural enough in itself but disturbing when dwelt on to such a degree that it produces a much greater reaction in these individuals than in other people. These dreads have existed in all sorts of people. It is said that they are more frequent in the highly intellectual, especially in the class known as geniuses, and they are often said to represent the definite evidence of a relationship between genius and insanity. I have always felt, however, that they are quite as common among ordinary people who have no genius and no signs of it as among the so-called geniuses. They are not so much spoken of by ordinary people, however, because they are rather ashamed of them. Genius, on the contrary, is quite willing, as a rule, to exploit its peculiarities for the benefit of the public, or what is even more true, its peculiarities are remembered and commented on as details of history.
With this in mind the following paragraph from Dr. Dorland's book on "The Ages of Mental Virility" [Footnote 50] deserves to be recalled. He has gathered a number of examples that are very interesting:
[Footnote 50: The Century Co., New York, 1908]
Fear has played an important rôle in the development of the antipathies of the great—fear that was often groundless in its origin and inexplicable in its manifestation. The unaccountable fear of dogs is not so common as ailurophobia, although it is said that De Musset cordially detested them, and Goethe despised them, notwithstanding, forsooth, he kept a tame snake. Much more frequent is the fear of spiders, centipedes, and other insects. Charles Kingsley, thorough naturalist though he was, entertained an unconquerable horror of spiders, even the common house spider; Turenne became weak when he saw a spider; while the author of the "Turkish Spy" once asserted that he would far prefer, with sword in hand, "to face a lion in his desert lair than to have a spider crawl over him in the dark." Lord Lauderdale, on the contrary, while declaring that the mewing of a cat was "sweeter to him than any music," had a most intense dislike for the flute and the bag-pipe; and Dr. Johnson was so fond of his cats that he would personally buy oysters for them, his servants being too proud to do so.
There are curious contradictions to be found in these matters. Montaigne confesses that he did his best writing and was in the best humor for keeping at his Essays while stroking his favorite cat with his left hand, his other being occupied with his writing. This would be seriously disturbing to many people, but apparently occupied certain distracting sensory tendencies and enabled him to concentrate his mental energies. To many people the very thought of doing anything like this would put all ideas for writing out of their mind. Other of Montaigne's peculiarities are quite as interesting. He always refused to sit down with thirteen at table, his liking for odd numbers was so great that he made all sorts of excuses in order not to use {625} even numbers and his aversion for Friday made the quota of work that he could do on that day much less than any other day of the week.
OBSESSIONS
There are many curious obsessions that disturb people and that are often extremely difficult of explanation even by themselves. Dr. Johnson, one of the most sensible men in many ways in his time in England, could not, it is said, pass a post on the street without touching it. At least if he did so he felt that somehow he had omitted to do something that he ought to have done and it would make him uncomfortable. There are many people who have some idea that it is lucky to touch posts as they pass along and the number of people who do things like this is larger than might be imagined. Many people put themselves out of the way in order to avoid letting a post come between the person with whom they are walking and themselves because it is said to be unlucky. Most of them will laugh at it, but still they continue the practice in spite of the bother it may occasion them. Occasionally there is some incident in their past life which accounts for such obsessions, though the patients themselves are occasionally not quite conscious of them. Dr. Boris Sidis tells the story of a man who could not take a car with an odd number. Psycho-analysis showed that he had once seen a child run down by an odd-numbered car.
In such cases there has been a long series of suggestions that have created a dominant state of mind. The only way to overcome this when it becomes a serious annoyance is to undo the influence of the suggestions by a continued series of counter-suggestions, and by such discipline of mind as will prevent the former suggestion from exerting itself. The cure can be accomplished in this way, though, as a rule, the patient will need the help of someone else.
FORGOTTEN FRIGHTS AND DREADS
Dreads founded on terrifying or seriously disturbing incidents of the past, the details of which at times have gone out of the patient's mind, are not infrequent. It is probable that many of the unreasoning dreads have some such foundation and occasionally, if patients' memories are carefully searched, the whole story can be reconstructed. All that is needed, as a rule, is to get the patients interested in conjunction with the physician in tracing the origin of their affliction and not infrequently an interesting story will turn up. Hypnosis used to be considered of great value for such reconstructions, but unfortunately patients then become so suggestible that it is often difficult to decide how much of what is brought out by questioning is due to the suggestive quality that cannot well be kept out of questions, and how much to a true redintegration of memory.
Frights in children may for a time be forgotten and yet the memory of them may come back, or a dread connected with them develop, that will make the patient profoundly miserable. One of my patients slipped and fell on a smooth steel plate at the head of a coal breaker and was only saved by good fortune from falling a long distance. This happened when he was a {626} boy of ten. There were times when the memory of this recurred so vividly as to set him all atremble and he could not look down from a height without something of the feeling of goneness coming over him that he felt at the time of the accident. The calling of his attention to the fact that his memory probably exaggerated the danger he had been in as a boy led him to go back and have another look at the conditions in which he had fallen some thirty years before. He found that they were not so dangerous as he thought and that while he would have been scratched and his clothes would probably have been soiled and torn, he would not have been seriously injured. This has greatly diminished his dread of heights.
Various physical manifestations may be due to dreads which are often supposed to be the result of some physical process in the nervous system. Occasional fits of trembling, for instance, are, in sensitive people, due to more or less forgotten memories of dangers or frights. Occasionally even slight convulsive seizures may follow such recurrent dreads. Not a few of the cases of so-called hystero-epilepsy in the borderland between hysteria and epilepsy but always one or the other, are due to such mental states rather than to any physical conditions. Such incomplete memories are sometimes spoken of as subconscious. The word subconscious has been so much abused, however, that I prefer not to use it. The reminiscences have been obscured by an accumulation of other facts but may with an effort of attention and concentration of mind be recalled. Hypnosis, or the milder form of it spoken of as the hypnoidal state, may enable the patient to recall them more vividly by enabling him to concentrate his attention, but there are always risks that suggestion will vitiate the old story in these cases. With care all the details can usually be recalled and the patient is thus given renewed confidence in himself and his own powers and does not learn to lean on someone else in the process.
TREATMENT
The most important psychotherapeutic factor for the relief of the discomfort due to dreads is the knowledge that there are so many and such different varieties of them and that so many people suffer from them. Many of those afflicted are inclined to think that their cases are almost unique. To have them know that there are all forms and phases of these curious aversions is to make them laugh a little at their own because they laugh so readily at others, and it gives them new courage for the attempt to conquer them. The aversion cannot be entirely overcome, but it can be prevented from seriously influencing sleep or appetite or occupation. This is after all the important feature of the case from the standpoint of psychotherapy. Besides, patients are encouraged not only to take up, but, above all, to continue, the practice of that mental discipline and self-control which will enable them to lessen their natural aversion, if not to remove it entirely. I have many cases in which patients' aversions have been entirely overcome. Curiously enough, there are rather often relapses when the patients are run down in weight, or are in an irritable condition from worry or emotional stress, and then something of the former mental discipline has to be reinstituted to make them once more free from disturbance.
I have sometimes found that the recommendation to patients suffering from dreads to read Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley's "Frankenstein" has proved an excellent therapeutic agent. This is particularly true when the patients are women, for it is likely to bring them close to the sad lives of the Shelleys. The circumstances in which the book was written add to the appeal. "Frankenstein" itself is interesting, so that the mood created by this combination of interests is excellently therapeutic. It will be recalled that in "Frankenstein" the inventor seeking to make a man does make an automaton that is able to move and to talk, but that then haunts its inventor, demanding of him a soul. It proves a plague to him, but he cannot escape from it. Fly where he will his creation follows him and bothers the life out of him, killing a friend, strangling his bride, and making existence intolerable. The symbol is complete and to the point. The things that bother us in life are to a great extent of our own invention. The dreads that make so many people miserable are practically always without any groundwork in reality, figments of our imagination without the soul of real life, but capable, as was Frankenstein's monster, of making their creators intensely miserable and with them, to an even greater degree, their friends.
CHAPTER IV
HEREDITY
There are so many false and, indeed, from a scientific standpoint, utterly groundless notions with regard to heredity which, as a result of the popularization of science, have become widely diffused, that notions about inheritance are a most copious source of dreads and discouragement and even produce inhibition of resistive vitality against disease on the part of many patients. At first it seemed to me as though the subject should be treated in the chapter on Dreads. It is so much more important than the other dreads, however, and there are so many people with so many different notions as to the evil influence of heredity that it seems advisable to devote a special chapter to it in which to provide contrary suggestion. Many patients are constantly suggesting to themselves that, because they are suffering from certain symptoms due to real or supposed hereditary conditions, there is little or no hope of their recovery or of any effective relief. In the old days, when tuberculosis was considered to be hereditary, it was almost hopeless to try to rouse patients into a state of vital resistance to their disease because of this overhanging dread. Such a prepossession of mind must be overcome.
In spite of all that has been said about the power for evil of heredity, and in this as in every other phase of pseudo-science, the reason why there are false popular notions is because the medical profession first cherished them and then they spread popularly, we now know that it means comparatively little in pathology. The false notions will continue, however, to be popularly diffused probably for another generation, at least, and will have to be combated. Their force must be lessened, for they are a heavy incubus on the patient's mind, imposing a burden on vitality that inhibits normal, vital reaction. This can only be done by a frank and complete statement of {628} our present knowledge of heredity, which is even yet not nearly so definite as we would like to have it, but which contradicts entirely most of the older impressions. In the matter of disease what we know of heredity, instead of being a source of distress and discouragement for patients, provides rather new incentives for vigorous reaction, since nature helps rather than hampers the effort of the individual to throw off disease from generation to generation.
False Impressions and Expression.—Probably the commonest expressions that the physician hears from his patients, though we hear many stereotyped phrases in our time when patients so freely discuss their ills and their physicians' opinions among themselves, are such as: "My father suffered from rheumatism, and I suppose I must expect to be bothered by the same ailment." "My mother died of heart disease and I think I have a weak heart; I suppose that we have weak hearts in the family." "I have had three relatives die of cancer in the last three generations, so I presume that cancer is in the family, or at least we are much more liable to cancer than the generality of people." And, finally, what used to be the commonest of all, but fortunately we have changed that at least, though we sometimes hear it still: "Tuberculosis runs in our family, my mother and an uncle died of it and one of my brothers is suffering from it, so I suppose I must just make up my mind that I, too, am sure to get it." Even the rarer affections, like kidney disease, liver disease, various nervous troubles, stomach and intestinal disturbances of many kinds, flatulence, constipation or diarrhea, are all supposed to be hereditary and patients explain their ill feelings by an appeal to the supposed principle of heredity and its application to themselves and their families.
In many chapters in this book the subject of heredity has been considered with regard to specific affections. We have no evidence at all, or the evidence is so trivial as to be quite negligible, that anything acquired by the individual, be it for good or evil, is ever transmitted to the next generation. That acquired characters are not transmitted is now almost a universally accepted principle among biologists. The more a biologist knows of recent biological research and investigation the more will he be likely to consider this principle of the non-transmission of acquirements as definitely settled. According to this, then, no disease is ever transmitted to the next generation. This is such a complete reversal of former opinions, such an open contradiction of popular beliefs, that the subject merits thorough discussion from this newer standpoint for medical applications. We must not forget that popular medicine, even when egregiously wrong, is founded on opinions held by the medical profession aforetime and, indeed, on this subject of heredity many of the medical profession still cling to the former opinion.
Tuberculosis, which used to furnish the most serious argument in this matter, has now come to be the best possible explanation that we have for the fallacy of the transmission of anything acquired. The disease followed families so constantly that it seemed impossible to explain it unless the principle of its heredity was conceded. Now that we know its contagiousness, however, it is comparatively easy to explain its occurrence in families. When we recall how carelessly people coughed and even expectorated around the house, while children crept on the floors and carried the germs of the disease to their mouths on their hands, the wonder is, not that so many members of the family acquired the disease seeing the manifold opportunities for contagion, but that {629} any of them ever escaped. We know now that practically every adult above the age of thirty either has or has had tuberculosis. Careful autopsies show us remains of the disease even in the bodies of those who, without any history of tuberculosis, die from other diseases. One out of eight of the population dies of tuberculosis, but the remaining seven are quite capable of resisting the disease and so we find healed lesions at autopsies in this proportion of cases.
Family History Favorable.—It is certain, then, that tuberculosis is not hereditary. On the contrary, as we have learned more about the disease in recent years, it has been recognized by specialists that patients who have a family history of tuberculosis are notably less likely to succumb to the disease early than those who have no such history. An acute case of tuberculosis with considerable loss of weight has a very unfavorable prognosis unless there is a history of the disease in the preceding generation, when at once the outlook becomes more hopeful. This newer view is confirmed by what we have learned from the ethnological pathology of the disease. Peoples exposed to the disease for the first time rapidly succumb to it. This is practically true for all the infectious diseases. Our American Indians succumbed in large numbers not only to tuberculosis but also to smallpox and even to measles when each was first introduced among them. The same thing was true in the South Sea Islands. Where nations have been exposed to the disease for some time they have acquired not an immunity, but at least they possess a greater resistive vitality to its ravages and while they still may be susceptible they are not so subject to the fatal forms of the disease, and even if they acquire it they live on for many years.
Many people may insist that this immunity or comparative immunity to tuberculosis and increased resistive vitality against the disease is transmitted and illustrates the principle of heredity. The reaction of the system to the disease increases in each generation and this increase is an acquired character which passes down with the family strain. This immunity should be viewed from another standpoint, however. Certain families possess a resistive vitality to the disease; others lack it. The resistant families do not succumb to it, and propagate themselves. The others gradually die out. What caused the resistant families originally to possess this quality we do not know. We have no trace of its being acquired. Like so many other characters by which men differ from one another, we do not know the beginning of it. Once it comes in as a family trait it is transmitted. In successive generations we have no evidence that it is stronger, only the danger is recognized from experience and better precautions are taken; the consequence is that the original resistive vitality has a better chance to make itself felt and so the family is preserved. This is as true with regard to the conquest of the tendency to excess in the taking of toxic substances, as alcohol and opium, as with regard to disease. It is not the transmission of an acquired character, but the descent of a family trait the origin of which we do not know.
Hereditary Syphilis.—Many physicians will protest that, at least, we have ample evidence for the transmission of syphilis by heredity. We have for many years talked of hereditary syphilis as if it were absolutely sure that its transmission by inheritance took place. There is no doubt, of course, that the disease is conveyed from mother to child. If a mother is actively syphilitic, {630} then her child will surely have syphilis when it is born. This, however, is no argument for the hereditary transmission of syphilis. We know now that if a mother is tuberculous, in an active stage of that disease, her child will almost surely have the disease, but this is a question of contagion not of inheritance. If a mother with active tuberculosis nurses her child she is likely to give it tuberculosis. Usually the idea is that the milk is not infective unless there are tuberculous lesions in the breasts, and in cattle it is well known that such lesions in the milk apparatus inevitably bring tubercle bacilli into the milk. The demonstration of tubercle bacilli in the blood of patients in the active stage of the disease is now much more frequent than used to be the case and there seems no doubt that the bacillus can pass through glandular structures into the secretions.
In the same way syphilitic nurses are likely to infect nurslings, though, of course, in this case there are usually syphilitic sores on the nipples which directly communicate the disease. It is almost impossible for a syphilitic woman to nurse a child, if she is in an active stage of the disease, without the production of such infective sores on her nipples. When children are born with syphilis it means only that in the process of feeding the child through the placental tissues, a mother has infected her child quite as she might infect it by nursing afterwards, in case she acquired syphilis after the birth. Lesions corresponding to those on the nipple occur in placental tissues and can be demonstrated without much difficulty. Congenital syphilis, however, can always be traced to contagion and the being born with the disease or having the manifestations of it occur shortly after birth is no argument for heredity at all. It merely emphasizes the danger of contagion.
Mothers of Syphilitic Children.—But there are some cases in which the child who shows symptoms of syphilis after birth is born from a mother who never had any manifestations of syphilis and therefore it has been supposed that the infection must have come from the sperm, and that in these cases, at least, there is a true heredity. It is perfectly possible, however, that syphilitic infective material may accompany the spermatozoon and so bring about the occurrence of syphilis in the offspring. Even this would be infection, however, and not heredity. Much more frequently it would seem that the disease in the infant was contracted from the mother while suffering from a latent form of syphilis, rather than from the paternal contributory particle to its existence. The mother gives no sign of the disease, but Colles' Law is that the mother of a syphilitic child may, without danger to herself, be allowed to nurse her own infant even though she herself has never had any symptoms. This can only mean that she is thoroughly protected against the disease. We would not think for a moment of allowing an ordinarily healthy women to nurse a syphilitic child. Such immunity in the mother of the syphilitic child can only come, so far as the present state of our knowledge goes, from her having had the disease. It has been said that as the result of the intimate communication with her child in utero she has acquired an immunity by the passage across the placental membrane which separates maternal and fetal blood of protective substances of various kinds due to the reaction against the disease already beginning in the child. As a matter of fact, however, there is no evidence of any such reactive substances in the blood of the child which after birth proceeds to have a series of acute lesions that are, as a rule, indicative {631} of almost complete lack of resistive vitality. Maternal immunity is evidently due to the occurrence of the disease in some form within the maternal tissues which produces the usual protection against the disease in a briefer time than usual. This certainly seems to be a more satisfactory explanation than that of a transmission of an immunity from the child to the mother which the child itself does not possess. It is easier to understand the transmission of an infection that does not manifest itself externally than of an immunity which there has been no time to acquire. Both explanations leave a mystery, but the mystery in the second case can be explained more in consonance with what we know about syphilitic transmission and immunity than in the other case. It does away with the transmission directly from the father almost completely, of course, leaves practically no ground for the heredity of syphilis, but it accords much better than older explanations with biological principles.
Late Lesions and Heredity.—Many physicians will be likely to insist that the late developments of syphilis in children, in which not only three or five years afterwards, but even fifteen or twenty years after birth, there are syphilitic manifestations, are beyond all doubt examples of heredity. In the last twenty-five years, however, our ideas with regard to the after-effects of syphilis have been entirely modified by what we have learned of such diseases as locomotor ataxia, paresis and the like. These are undoubtedly parasyphilitic diseases in most cases, yet they not infrequently develop from ten to twenty years after any manifestation of syphilis and they seem to occur, by preference almost, in cases where the preliminary symptoms have been very mild. In not a few cases, indeed, the symptoms of syphilis have been so transient in these patients that the true significance of them was missed until the later developments showed their real character. Krafft-Ebing, at the International Medical Congress at Moscow in 1897, detailed some experiments that he had made on paretics in Vienna. They were patients in whom no history of syphilis could be found, yet they were suffering from typical paresis. As they were in the ultimate stage of the disease it did not seem unjustifiable to inoculate them with syphilis, and in most cases it was found that they would not take the disease, showing that they were probably protected by a previous attack, though there was no history of it.
The development of the late symptoms of syphilis in the second generation can then be much more satisfactorily explained on the basis of a mild infection with very few primary symptoms, almost lacking in secondary symptoms, yet followed by subsequent symptoms of great severity consequent upon the deterioration of vitality produced by the disease. As for the manifestations in the third generation, they are not directly syphilitic, but are, whenever they occur, due to conditions consequent upon the degeneration that had been effected in the preceding generation and which directly weakened the offspring—on the same principle that weak parents give birth to weak children, and starving parents cannot have strong, healthy children—but not because of any direct influence of the disease. It is worth while to discuss this subject from this standpoint, since it disposes of the only supposed evidence left for the hereditary transmission of disease that we now have, though only a few years ago most diseases were supposed to be hereditary.
Heredity in Cancer.—With regard to other diseases, the evidence for any inheritance has been founded entirely on coincidence. All the human race {632} dies and must die some way, and so in families a certain number will die of the same disease. The argument for heredity in cancer is extremely weak. When all the relatives of a person afflicted with cancer as far out as the third generation are taken into account, only about one in five of them are found to have suffered from cancer. When we remember, however, that more than one in thirty of all those who die, die of cancer and that the death-rate of this disease is greater than that of typhoid fever, smallpox, scarlet fever, measles, and all other infectious diseases put together, it is easy to understand how large a role coincidence plays in any such set of statistics, and how little the significance of the occurrence of cancer in different members of the same family means, unless possibly there is an occasional element of contagiousness which must not be left out of the reckoning.
Heredity in Other Affections.—Other ailments present much less possibility or probability of any element of heredity. For instance, over-indulgence in meat or drink may readily bring about various ailments of the gastro-intestinal tract. These are, of course, definitely acquired conditions, some of them temporary and some persistent, that will continue to give trouble so long as the patient continues to produce irritation of them. They may, of course, lead to permanent pathological conditions. To say that any of these are likely to be inherited would be quite as absurd as to say that a corn could be inherited, or the permanent deformities produced in toes by wearing badly-fitting shoes could be transmitted to the next generation. We do not think for a moment that because a man has lost a finger his children are likely to be born without a finger, and still less if by some accident or abuse he has been deprived of the use of an arm or leg, that that is likely to be transmitted to the next generation. Yet people calmly talk of the heredity of similarly produced conditions within the body, and even physicians are not entirely free from the superstition, for such it is, of the influence of heredity in producing pathological conditions.
Habits of various kinds, physical and mental, are calmly accepted by many people as influenced by or having their origin in heredity. Under Alcoholism and Drug Addictions we have discussed this phase of the subject, but a word or two more may make it clearer. A tendency to form the same habits may be a family trait and descend from one generation to another. That a specific habit should be the subject of heredity or transmission is as much out of the question as that a facility for doing anything should be transmitted. The son of an acrobat must practice quite as faithfully as did his father in order to secure his father's skill. He may inherit from his father that particular constitution of body, that specific combination of muscle and sinew and bone that enables him to become an acrobat by practice, though with a different kind of body it would be impossible, but his father's acquired facility influences in no way the son's ability. We often hear of a man being the descendant of a series of generations each of whom has gone to the university, as if that somehow assured him a readier and better facility for education, but we know very well that this is not true and that the boys straight from the soil are often the best students and far ahead of the scions of long-time academic families.
Inheritance of Defects.—Acquired characters are not transmitted, though family traits are the subject of inheritance. Disease is not hereditary, but {633} defect is. Crossed eyes occur very commonly in families and are evidently a subject of transmission. Family noses are often very peculiar and may be traced for many generations. The Hapsburg lip has been noted in sixty per cent. of the Hapsburgs since the family came into prominence in the thirteenth century. Features of all kinds are inherited, as anyone who has ever spent some time in a family portrait gallery where the ancestors were genuine and the paintings reasonably true to life, knows very well. Certain features of European families can be traced for many generations. The tendency to have six toes or to have an extra finger runs in certain families. So small a thing as a patch of white hair in a particular part of the head may be the subject of hereditary transmission. Moles on a particular part of the body are inherited. All these, however, are characters with regard to the acquisition of which we know nothing, but that have somehow found their way into the family strain and have become subjects of transmission from generation to generation. They provide no evidence, however, as to the transmission of acquired characters.
Variation.—What is even more surprising in biology, however, is that there is another marvelous force at work quite as incomprehensible in its way, perhaps even more so, than that of heredity. This is variation. All creatures have a tendency to vary from their parents. A very small proportion of the offspring resemble parents so closely as to be quite similar. The great majority of them, however, have noteworthy, individual, distinctive qualities. Occasionally these qualities may be traced to the less immediate ancestors and then we talk about reversion. Occasionally there appears in a child some trait or anomaly supposed to be remotely ancestral and it is spoken of as atavism. Whenever there is a tendency of the offspring of exceptional parents to regress toward the racial average, we talk of regression. Tall parents often have tall children, some of them may, by a special tendency of heredity, be taller even than themselves. Most of them will be shorter, however, and tend to regress toward the racial average.
Few people understand what a wonderful power among living things is exerted by this very opposite of heredity—variation. All the possibility of improvement not only in humanity but among all living things is dependent on variation. It does not seem difficult to understand how offspring resemble parents. They are of them, therefore they are like them. When we analyze the problem of heredity, however, and find that the connecting link between offspring and parents is always only a single cell of less than one one-hundredth of an inch in diameter, the mystery of heredity looms up in all its immensity. This minute bit of protoplasm, so small that it requires a rather strong power of the microscope to see it, somehow contains compressed within itself all the qualities that characterize the parent and are to be transmitted to the offspring. Among animals, the color of the eyes and hairy covering, the form and height of the animal, its generic characteristics, and its individual characters—all are contained within this minute spherule. The white blaze on the horse's hind leg, the black blotch on the puppy's face, the white lock on a human head, are all carried over from one generation to another with all the other qualities in this small package. That is the mystery of heredity.
To this must be added another mystery quite as great and even more {634} difficult to understand—variation. This tendency to vary is the basis for whatever evolution there is in the world. Some living things vary in such a way as to be better suited to their environment than they were before and then these outlive others because more favorably situated, and natural selection brings about a maintenance of the favorable variation. Instead, then, of patients being impressed with the unfavorable influence of heredity, they should rather be made to feel the weight of the idea that whatever evil tendencies the parent has the child is more likely to have less of them than more, so that variation tends to make the race better. We have had too much stress laid on the heredity of unfortunate qualities and entirely too little made of the variation tendency, which is constantly lifting the race up. It is, of course, only what happens in everything else, unfavorable are likely to have more weight than favorable suggestions, and unless these latter are emphasized their influence becomes swamped. This has happened with regard to variation. It is quite as important a biological element as heredity and it makes for the removal of unfortunate qualities, yet it has never become a popular idea and is little appreciated even by physicians.
Patients who are worried about their heredity will, after a frank discussion of our present knowledge of heredity and its co-ordinate factor of variation, lose most of their dread of this specter of supposed evil influence which so often proves the source of discouragement and failure to react properly against pathological conditions. There is probably no phase of modern biology in which the so-called popularization of science has done more harm by providing an abundant source ol unfortunate suggestions. Whatever influence heredity has in relation to disease is favorable to the human race. It is true that this is exerted by the elimination of the unfit, yet the very consequence of this is that the children of parents who have suffered from a particular disease are likely to have greater average resistance to it than the generality of mankind, since their parents passed the age up to reproductive activity without succumbing to it. For cancer, tuberculosis and syphilis this teaching is of special value and is probably more effective than any other single means could be to prevent the ravages of the disease if it should occur, since it keeps the patient from interfering with his own resistive vitality by the discouraging conviction that there is no possible hope for him because his parents also suffered from the disease.
CHAPTER V
PREMONITIONS
A state of mind that disturbs many people seriously, sometimes even producing physical results, because of the burden of dread that hangs over them, is that in which attention is paid to premonitions of evil. There are two of these general conditions to be considered. In the one there is a definite feeling that some special evil, occasionally very particularly outlined in the mind, as a railroad accident, fire, or a street accident of some kind, is to occur. In another mental condition there is a generic premonition of evil, {635} as if the worst were sure to happen and the patients must be constantly preparing for it. Occasionally this takes on some such form as an assurance of early breakdown in health, or of death at an untimely age, or of some crippling infirmity. This represents, of course, only one form of lack of control over the mind, but it is surprising how much physical suffering it may occasion. Only those who have had much to do with patients who suffer from this state of mind realize it. Sympathetic knowledge of the conditions that bring it about and of the real significance of premonitions will do more to help patients than anything else.
Every now and then newspapers tell the story of someone who had an impending sense of danger, perhaps of a particular form of accident or misfortune, which he could not shake off and which finally came true. Sometimes it is a fire that was anticipated, though without any reason except the dread, and precautions that eventually proved life-saving to the patient were taken, or at least friends were told of it so that the person seemed actually to have had some warning beforehand of the danger that was to come. Sometimes it is the story of a railroad accident, which some particularly fortunate individual escaped, because of a premonition that made him take another train or make a happy change of cars. Nothing is said of the times when premonitions failed, nor of the disappointments of such dreads. Most people laugh at the stories, but a few individuals become seriously impressed with the possibility of such warnings and then make themselves miserable by having frequent premonitions.
Etiology.—As to the origin of these premonitions it is hard to say. They occur more frequently on dark days than in bright weather and are complained of much more in spring and fall than during the cold brisk winter or during the summer time. A succession of very hot days, however, brings a series of premonitions, especially with regard to accidents by heat, that is not surprising since the newspapers have many accounts of sunstrokes and there is every suggestion of the possibility of danger of this kind. How large a role suggestion plays in the matter can be realized from the fact that after some particularly serious railroad accident many people have premonitions that they may be hurt and occasionally they put themselves to considerable inconvenience in choosing the car in which they will sit, if the last serious preceding accident of which they have heard happens to have brought death mainly in a particular car of a train. It is always suggestible people who are likely to have premonitions. The thought comes very simply at first, they dwell on it a little unwillingly, then they find it impossible to banish it and finally it may become a positive obsession. The soil and the seed for suggestion are both needed to produce premonitions.
Royce suggests that many of the supposedly fulfilled premonitions are really only pseudo-presentiments and represent an instantaneous and irresistible hallucination of memory, which may give rise to the impression that there has been a previous dream or other warning presaging the facts, though no such phenomenon actually took place. In other words, there would be an auto-suggestion consequent upon the hearing of other fulfilled presentiments that sometime some such thing must also occur to us, and then when a happening that reminds us of something in the previous stories of {636} presentiments comes there is the sudden responsive feeling "why, this is what I saw or must have seen in my dream."
Podmore suggests an illusion of memory magnifying or rearranging the details of a recent dream or premonitory impression, so as to make it fit into the happenings. Dreams are so vague that unless they have been written down we are not quite sure of them an hour after they occurred and a day or two later we have only the merest hint of what they were. If this can be made to have any connection with a casualty of any kind that happens subsequently we may very readily recreate the dream with its details concordant to the event. Certainly no reliance can be placed on a story of a dream fulfilled unless the dream was told before the happening.
Premonitions of Death.—Certain premonitions are common and are frequently brought to the physician's notice. Among old people it is not unusual to find that a premonition of death will hang over them for days, seriously disturbing them and their friends, hampering often a healthy reaction against disease and always lowering resistive vitality. Many of them have heard stories which make them credit the belief that such premonitions are likely to come true and therefore they cannot shake them off. They have heard stories of people who have become convinced that they were going to die at a particular time on a particular day and whose conviction has been proven by the event. Like all the other premonitions, whatever truth there may appear to be in them, is due entirely to the fact that nearly everybody has premonitions and occasionally, therefore, one of them must come true. Those that are fulfilled create such an impression that they are remembered, while those that fail are forgotten, until, though it is not realized, it becomes true that fulfilled premonitions represent exactly that much misunderstood principle that the exception proves the rule. The rule is that premonitions fail. Exceptionally, however, a premonition comes true. Instead of proving that premonitions mean anything, the rarity of their fulfillment proves the rule of their non-significance and demonstrates that they are merely coincidences.
Persuasion of Short Life.—Much mental suffering occurs in nervous people as a consequence of a premonition or persuasion which comes to them in middle life that they are destined not to live very long. This is a commoner impression than is usually thought and comes to nearly everyone at some time in life. Especially is it likely to come to those who have suffered some severe illness and who know how weak they were during their convalescence and, in spite of their thorough recovery of strength, cannot quite persuade themselves but that an ailment which made them so weak must surely have sapped their vitality so as to make long life for them impossible. It is, of course, one of the vague dreads that men always seem to be harboring, but there are times that it becomes so prominent and so influential in the production of depressive feelings that it is worth while to have the means at hand to counteract it as far as possible. In the last ten years I have made it a practice to ask, not only all my patients but most of my acquaintances above 70 years of age whether they had ever experienced such a premonition. I have particularly asked what were their feelings with regard to the hope of long life for them when they were in their forties and fifties. Without exception I have been told by all those who had the education and leisure to {637} be at all introspective, that they had felt sure that they would not have long life.
Most of the men consulted took out life insurance in such a way as to benefit their families after their death rather than themselves during life. Indeed it seems not an unusual thing for men to have some experience with an ailment between 40 and 55 which makes them realize their mortality much more than the deaths of their friends around them had succeeded in doing. Premonitions and impressions, then, of this kind evidently mean nothing, so far as the prospect of long life is concerned. Practically everyone has them, and since, of course, the great majority of men do not live to die of old age, it would seem that their premonition of comparatively short life was fulfilled. Occasionally a man will be found at the age of fifty unwilling to take up further work or develop his business because of the dread that has come over him that he may not live long enough to make it worth the while. Where there is serious kidney or heart trouble such an abstention from business is commendable, but in many cases it leaves a man without occupation or with insufficient occupation and he becomes short-circuited on himself with more serious results from worry than would have come from work.
Publication of Fulfilled Premonitions.—The publication of fulfilled premonitions has always seemed to me to be an especially fertile source of premonitions for other people. Every now and then someone goes to bed in a hotel having communicated to friends the idea that he fears there may be fire before morning. I do not suppose that one out of ten people who sleep in a strange hotel fail to have some such thought, they do not consider it a premonition, however, but only a suggestion for the taking of proper precautions so as to know where exits and fire escapes and other means of escape are situated, so that in the excitement of the fire they may not have to do any thinking, but may have already made up their minds what they shall do. This sort of premonition, if we call it by that name, has a definite useful purpose. Occasionally it seems marvelously provident. The other makes its possessor toss sleepless a portion of the night, does no good and much harm. If, however, the premonition has been communicated to someone else and then a fire should occur, the reporting of the fulfilled premonition comes to a lot of weak-minded people as a confirmation of their worst fears. It is, of course, only a question of coincidence in a succession of events by no means connected in any causal relation, yet by the unthinking set down as showing the possibility of such premonitions being supremely significant. If we had all the stories of unfulfilled premonitions also published then the true significance of the others would be clear.