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.
An Unfulfilled Premonition.—There is an excellent story of a strong but unfulfilled premonition told by Carl Schurz in his "Recollections," which seems to me such a good antidote to the influence of supposed premonitions, that every physician should know its details for their psychotherapeutic value with patients prone to be troubled in this way. The ease with which the depression consequent upon the premonition was relieved as soon as another forcible suggestion that the danger was past took possession of him, shows how such states of mind can be altered with no more real reason for the alteration than there was for the original depression.
On the morning of the battle of Chancellorsville General Schurz awoke with the absolute persuasion that at last his time had come and he was to be killed that day. He had never had such a premonition before. He had heard of many cases in which such premonitions proved the forerunner of death. He realized how ridiculous was the idea that he should know anything about what the future held for him, even vaguely, and he tried to shake it off. He found it impossible to do so. He thought that after he took up the routine work of the day the force of the premonition would be lost. It was not, but, on the contrary, seemed to increase in power over him. Finally the idea became so imperative that he sat down and wrote letters of farewell to his wife and friends, telling them that he had been tempted to do so because of this premonition of danger. When he went into battle—and it may be recalled that the Eleventh Corps did some fighting at Chancellorsville that day—he was sure that now the end was not far off. It did not take away his courage, however, and though he was well in the zone of danger, he issued his orders and kept his troops well in hand as we know from the history of the battle.
Finally his aide-de-camp, riding toward the front of the line beside him, was killed by a cannon ball. All in an instant the thought came over him that this was the only danger that was likely to be near him for the day. The burden of premonition lifted from him as if the fact that a friend had been killed beside him gave him an assurance that he himself was not to be taken. There was absolutely no reason for his thinking so, but his feelings of solicitude with regard to himself and his fate faded completely and at once. He continued in the thick of the fight and of danger and was untouched. He himself called attention to the fact that if his premonition had come true, as well it might in the midst of the very serious danger which he faced, it would have seemed a strong confirmation of the impression that premonitions have a meaning other than that of coincidence. It was, however, a magnificent example of a failed premonition quite as striking as any of the stories that are told about premonitions that came true.
Rôle of Coincidence.—This must be remembered in many of our arguments in medical and other scientific matters. Most diseases are self-limited, therefore anything that is given as a remedy for them just about the time that nature has succeeded in conquering the virulence of the disease and bringing about the cure of the patient, seems to be curative. Such cures, often remedies of supposed wonderful potency, come and go in medicine by the hundred every ten years. Such curious doctrines as that of the influence of maternal impressions in producing deformities and defects in the unborn child are founded on nothing better than these coincidences. They are often very startling, but the rule by which they must be judged is the number of times in which in spite of similar conditions no premonition takes place. Literally thousands of people go to bed every night who are to be waked by the danger of fire before morning and yet have no premonition of it. Literally millions of people have gone to bed in recent years without any premonition of earthquake, yet have been wakened before morning with their houses tumbling around them. If a few people have premonitions in these cases it is easy to understand that it is coincidence and not anything else, for these are exceptions, and this again is a case of the exception proving the rule.
Premonitions and Superstitions—Thirteen.—Occasionally premonitions are connected with certain events that are themselves, even though happening quite accidentally, supposed to be portentous. How many people, for instance, feel quite uncomfortable if they sit down thirteen at a table. The very fact of the gathering of thirteen is supposed to be a spontaneous or automatic premonition that is a forewarning of evil that has to come to some of them. Unfortunately, this superstition continues to have a vogue and an influence over people's minds because stories are told that are supposed to confirm it. Needless to say, when these stories are true, they are merely coincidences. Out of any baker's dozen of people who sit down to dinner it is not surprising if one should die or be killed during the year. Some of the stories, however, are merely sensational inventions worked up to be given to the public because a number of people are interested in this sort of thing. Probably one of the stories that has gone the rounds most and that has served to confirm many people in their uneasiness over the number 13 is that which is told as happening to Matthew Arnold and some friends, supposedly the year the great English litterateur died.
The story runs that just as Mr. Arnold and his friends were about to sit down to the table it was discovered that there were thirteen present. According to the old tradition in the matter it is the one who first gets up from table under these circumstances that is likely to be affected by the malignant influence. When the end of the dinner had arrived, by previous arrangement Mr. Arnold and two very healthy friends, brothers, arose simultaneously. According to the widely diffused newspaper account of years afterward, Mr. Arnold himself died within the year and one of the brothers was lost in the wreck of an English passenger vessel off the coast of Australia in six months, while the other brother committed suicide before the end of the year. Careful investigation of the details has shown, however, that the story was made out of whole cloth. Mr. Arnold himself, who was suffering from heart trouble towards the end of his life, was not likely to take part in any such arrangement because of the constant danger, well-known to himself, of sudden death in his case. This might happen at any time and might seem to confirm the superstition. The dates of the story, moreover, are all wrong. Matthew Arnold's death and the loss of the English passenger vessel in Australian waters, referred to, do not occur within five years of each other. The story has gone round the world. The correction will never reach so far. The story is startling; the explanation commonplace. Many people will continue to believe that here, at least, was one striking confirmation of their superstition.
It is curious how the force of this "13" superstition has continued in spite of education and enlightenment. Most passenger vessels now built have no staterooms numbered thirteen. On certain streets in large cities one finds the number 12-1/2 (until this year it was so on my own) substituted for thirteen. Sometimes one finds "twelve a" or something similar. In the large hotels, where they have immense banquet halls with the tables numbered so that guests may be able to find their places, I have often noted that there was no table number thirteen. It is said that in some of the new skyscraper buildings twenty stories and more in height there has been question of skipping the thirteenth floor as a designation, because while most [{640}] people would be quite undisturbed about it, some do not care to have an office on the thirteenth floor, giving as an excuse that clients or patrons do not care to come to the thirteenth floor. In automobile races men are willing to risk their lives by going a hundred miles an hour on roads never intended for such performances, but they refuse to race behind the fell number thirteen. This, after all, can be readily understood. The slightest thing that takes away a man's complete confidence in himself may be serious in an automobile going as fast as these. Men must not think of fear or they lose some of their power and control over themselves and their machine. They must simply forget everything except the task before them.
The belief in the thirteen superstition is one form of acceptance of premonitions. That of itself should be enough to enable sensible people to throw them off. Above all, it must be remembered that such supposed malignant influence, when allowed to affect people, impairs their presence of mind and may thus lead up to the accident or mishap which it is supposed to foreshadow. This is the serious feature of such premonitions and dreads. Unless people can be persuaded sensibly to be rid of them they handicap themselves whenever they are placed in danger that causes them to recur to the thought of the premonition or dread. While there is absolutely nothing but coincidence in even the supposed true stories, and many of the stories are merely sensational inventions, yet people need to be persuaded to rid themselves of the incubus that settles over them because of such ideas.
Premonitions and Telepathy.—There are many people who think that premonitions have something to do with telepathy. Somehow the future event is supposed to be able to send some message to specially susceptible minds. Either that, of course, or there is some being in another world whose interest is sufficient to convey some inkling of the future. A little consideration of this subject, however, shows the utter lack of rationality in any such opinion. Future events, having as yet no existence, cannot in any way influence intelligence. Such future events, when dependent on human free will, are quite impossible of being foretold and, as has been said, no being except the Creator Himself knows anything about them. It would be only from Him, then, that information might be supposed to come and it would be hard to think such information would be so vague and indefinite as to leave room for doubt and, besides, often defeat its purpose of protection by seriously disturbing patients and lessening their presence of mind. There is no reasonable explanation by which a human being can be supposed to obtain knowledge of a future event unless there is a complete overturning of the ordinary laws of nature and then it would be reasonably supposed that no doubt of the significance of the event would be left.
Nearly all of us have premonitions that fail. Only a few especially introspective people who are constantly afraid of what will happen to them, and who are sure that the worst is always preparing for them, have their premonitions come true more than once or twice in life. The striking fulfillments of a few premonitions could be paralleled by an endless number of just as striking failures, only that most people dismiss the idea completely from their minds as too foolish to be further talked about. It is quite the same with dreams. All the world dreams and there would be a serious violation of the theory of probabilities if some dreams did not come true. The great [{641}] majority of mankind, especially after the age of thirty, is fearful lest something ill is going to happen to them and their premonitions are rather frequent. If some of these did not come true then the mathematics of coincidences as based on the theory of probabilities would prove false.
CHAPTER VI
PERIODICAL DEPRESSION
Fits of periodical depression, familiarly known as "the blues," occur in the experience of practically everyone. In some people they are only slight and passing. In others they last for hours and make the individual quite miserable. In still others, without actually running into melancholia, they produce serious discouragement and continuous discomfort which persists even for days and makes life intolerable. They come and go quite unaccountably. During their occurrence all vitality is lowered, appetite lessened, aches and pains are emphasized, sleep may be disturbed, exercise becomes distasteful, and they usually present an interval when health is at a low ebb. Ordinarily when described as "the blues" they have no definite connection with any known physical cause. They are passing incidents which seem to recur at irregular intervals. When connected with physical ills they are thought of directly as symptoms of these ills. All forms of disease may be associated with such fits of depression and many physical symptoms seem to be due to the fact that during these periods there is a distinct lowering of physical vitality so that the nerve impulses which ordinarily enable functions to be performed without interference are interrupted, or at least are inhibited, to a noteworthy degree. While to a certain extent the condition is a mental disease, it may be modified by the correction of physical derangements, by stimulation and, above all, by suggestion and a change in the point of view.
Serious Pathological Conditions.—Of course, such periodical fits of depression are associated with various serious progressive ailments and then are primarily physical, and are only secondarily psychic. From the standpoint of psychotherapy it is important to remember that certain serious organic lesions may show their first signs in the patient's mental state. It is not unusual, for instance, for the disposition of a patient suffering from kidney disease to change so materially that the attention of friends is called to the change before any physical symptom of the nephritis has been noted. Sometimes for a year there will be a progressive clouding of what had previously been a rather happy disposition. Decisions will be made more slowly than before. The judgment will be impaired. There are some striking examples of this in history, of which the unfortunate Athenian general, Nicias, put to death for incapacity that was undoubtedly pathological, is one. Pleasures will be taken half-heartedly; men who have been bright and jovial will now become saturnine. Men who have been the life of parties will try to hold the place they acquired before, though all around them will perceive how difficult it is for them to maintain the role they have set for themselves. Whenever there is a notable change in disposition, it is well not to attribute it to some passing mental condition and, above all, not to dismiss [{642}] it as a peculiarity unamenable to treatment, but to look for the underlying pathological basis of the new condition.
In this way physical disease will sometimes be discovered long before it otherwise would be. This must be particularly noted when there have been a series of worries. Occasionally it seems enough to many people to ascribe a change of disposition to the troubles that have come over a patient. If a business man fails or passes through a crisis in his affairs in which failure is very near, or he has many business worries over a prolonged period, these are sometimes thought to be quite enough to explain a change of disposition. They are, but not to the degree that is often noted, for, in excess, melancholic tendencies are always pathological, that is, they have some basis in a serious mental or physical change. If there is an insidious nephritis already at work, its symptoms will be much exaggerated and its progress accelerated by the worries and disquietude of such a time. If a wife loses her husband, or an only son, or a favorite child, the occurrence of a prolonged period of depression should lead to a careful investigation of physical conditions and of the underlying mental state in the hope of guarding against serious developments.
Heart Disease.—Periods of depression are also common in heart disease and are often the first symptom of the beginning of a break in compensation. This effect is not so simple and direct, however, as in the case of the kidneys. Probably the first physical symptom of a break in compensation, where there is real valvular heart disease, is a decrease in the amount of urine. This points to an insufficient elimination of the products of metabolism and to the retention in the circulation of toxic substances. The reason for this is the lessened circulation through the kidneys because of the diseased heart. There is also a lessened circulation through the brain. This impairs the function of the brain and quite naturally leads to mental depression, slowness of decision, and unwillingness to occupy one's self with many things. Besides, because of the lessened function of the kidney the circulating blood not only does not nourish so well but it tends still further to depress the brain cells by the toxic substances that are in it. Depression in such cases is rather to be expected and at the beginning is not continuous but comes in ever longer periods with shortening intervals as the disturbance of the circulation progresses. At first, like other diminutions of function, it is conservative in order to spare the heart work.
Respiratory Affections.—Very curiously an affection of the lungs has exactly the opposite effect and is likely to create in the patient an artificial sense of well-being. Spes phthisica, the characteristic hope of consumptive patients, is well known, and has been described by many a careful observer from Hippocrates and Galen to our own time. A lessened amount of oxygen in the blood produces a certain sleepiness, but this seems to be preceded by a period of slight excitation. The most familiar example of this occurs at the beginning of the inhalation of laughing gas. Practically the only direct physical effect of the inhalation of nitrous-dioxide is to shut off our oxygen and it is a slight period of deoxygenation that produces the anesthesia by this agent. Whether we have not in this the explanation of the feeling of the consumptive, so that often on the day before his death he plans a number of things that he is going to do next year, may require more careful [{643}] investigation, but the suggestion may serve to show how much disposition, both lively and serious, depends on physical factors as well as on the natural state of mind.