Psychotherapy / Including the History of the Use of Mental Influence, Directly and Indirectly, in Healing and the Principles for the Application of Energies Derived from the Mind to the Treatment of Disease

by James J. Walsh

Fig. 25.

When the experiment is successfully performed the dots begin to float before the eyes, then they may coalesce into one or become three, but any number up to four may readily be seen. This will give the sense of insecurity that comes from the eyes not having any fixed object to look at and illustrates the discipline of the eyes that must be learned in order that looking down from a height may not be productive of the usual dread.

Dread of Small Heights.—It is often thought that acrophobia, or the fear of a height, concerns only great heights and that ordinary elevations produce no discomfort. I have had patients, however, who, when compelled by circumstances over which they had no control or at least by social obligations that were hard to break, to sit on the front row of even a low balcony, have been extremely uncomfortable. There was a sense of tightness and oppression about the chest that made it difficult for them to breathe, that disturbed their heart action and gave them a general sense of ill-feeling. I have had a curiously interesting series of cases in clergymen who found it trying to say Mass or conduct services or to preach from the step of a high altar. One would be inclined at first to make little of their description of their utter discomfort. There is no doubt at all, however, of their real torture of mind and of the extreme effort required to enable them to support themselves in the trying ordeal. They are often so exhausted because of the effort required that only with difficulty can they do anything else during the day.

To most people such a state of mind is inexplicable. There are deeply intellectual men who, in my experience, are quite disturbed by apparently so simple a thing as having to say Mass on an altar that has three or four steps to it and is elevated five or six feet above the surrounding floor. As for higher altars, like the main altar of a cathedral, they usually find it quite impossible to conduct services unless they are in company with others, when their feelings are much relieved. This same thing is true of agoraphobia in some people. To go alone across an open place or square is agony, but even the company of a little child is sufficient to relieve them to a great degree. I told a distinguished American prelate of this curious dread in priests so often called to the physician's attention, and he said that he had never heard of it. To his surprise some of his clergymen present at the table told him that there were two examples of it in brothers in his own diocese.

Mental Discipline.—The lesson of the many men who, by discipline, have succeeded in conquering the aversion and the dread of heights that everyone has to some extent at least, shows the possibility there is for even those who are extremely sensitive in this matter to so lessen their timidity and the uncomfortable oppression that comes over them, as to make it possible to accomplish whatever is in their line of duty. It is no more difficult for the sensitive clergyman to learn by practice and discipline to walk with confidence on a reasonably high altar or platform, than it is for the workman to learn to [{616}] walk a beam on the top of a twenty-story building without a thought of the dangers of his position, or at least putting the thought away from him so that it does not interfere with his work. At the beginning he cannot do it, but he disciplines himself to form a habit that makes it easy. Yielding to his feelings makes it difficult to withstand the discomforts that come to him. After an accident on a high building, as a rule, men have to be sent home for the day to get their nerves settled by the night's sleep before they can work with sufficient confidence, and yet accomplish their usual amount of work.

So-called Misophobia—Dread of Dirt.—Misophobia, or the fear of dirt, has grown much more common in recent years, and the spread of the knowledge of the wide diffusion of bacteria has added to the unreasoning dread that possesses these people. Some of them wash their hands forty to fifty times a day, and one young man who was brought to me with the worst looking hands, because of irritation from soap and water, that I have ever seen, seemed to be always either just plunging his hands into water or wiping them dry. These people make themselves supremely miserable. They do not care to shake hands with friends and, above all, with physicians, and they invent all sorts of excuses so as to wait outside of doors till someone else opens them so as to avoid touching the knob or door pull, "which" with a poignant expression of repugnance they tell you "is handled by so many people." When the patients are women, getting on and off cars becomes a nightmare to them, because they do not want to touch the handle bars and unless they do they find it difficult to ascend and descend. The curious excuses they offer for their peculiar actions in avoiding the touch of objects around them are interesting.

Claustrophobia.—This sort of dread seems quite irrational to most people and many would probably conclude that individuals thus affected could not possibly be quite in their right minds, or must surely be rather weak-minded. On the contrary, many of the people who are affected by these curious dreads are above the average in intelligence and sometimes also in their power to do intellectual work. A typical example, for instance, of claustrophobia, or the fear of closed spaces, is found in the life of Philip Gilbert Hamerton. He was a distinguished painter and essayist, editor and novelist. Few men of his generation were able to do better intellectual work than he. His book on "The Intellectual Life" was more read perhaps than any work of its kind in the last generation. He was not a profound thinker, but he was a very talented practical man. The fact that besides being a writer whose books sold he was a painter whose works were in demand, shows a breadth of artistic quality that is quite unusual. His was not the sort of genius, however, that is so often supposed to be allied to insanity, for he was rather a worker who obtained his effects by plodding, than a brilliant genius that got his thoughts by intuition.

In a word, in spite of the fact that he was just the sort of man that one would not think likely to be affected by a phobia, he had a series of attacks of claustrophobia, some of which were intensely annoying to him and seriously disturbing to his friends. His wife has described some of them in his "Life and Letters." Once after crossing the English Channel, he had a severe attack in the railroad carriage on the way up to London. He had not been nervous [{617}] on the voyage and had not been seasick. He was returning from a vacation and was in the best of health and spirits, yet suddenly the feeling of inordinate dread that he was shut in came over him and he could scarcely control himself or keep from plunging out of the window in order to get into the open. His wife says that "His hands became cold, his eyes took on a far-reaching look, his expression became hard and set and his face flushed." He seemed "as if ready to overthrow any obstacle in his way; and indeed it was the case, for, unable to control himself any longer, he got up and told me hoarsely that he was going to jump out of the train. I took hold of his hand and said I would follow him, only I entreated him to wait a short time, as we were near the station. I placed myself quite close to the door of the railway carriage and stood between him and it. Happily the railway station was soon reached, when he rushed from the train and into the fields." His wife followed him like one dazed, and almost heart-broken. After half an hour he lessened his pace, turning to her and said, "I think it is going." For two hours they continued to walk, at the end of which Gilbert said tenderly in his usual voice, "You must be terribly tired, poor darling. I think I could bear to rest now. We may try to sit down."

Dread of Cats.—One of the most interesting of dreads, very frequently seen and producing much more discomfort than could possibly be imagined by anyone who had not seen striking cases of it, is the dread of cats which has been dignified and rendered more suggestively significant by the Greek designation ailurophobia. While the great majority of individuals suffering from this unreasoning dread of cats are women and usually of a delicate nervous organization, it must not be thought that it is by any means confined to them or has any necessary connection with hysterical symptoms. One of the most striking cases of this dread of which I know personally occurs in a large, rather masculine-looking woman, who cannot abide being in a room with a cat, and who is quite unable to do anything while one of these animals is within sight. Yet she is not at all what would be called timorous and she has more manly than womanly characteristics in every way. She once proceeded to thrash within an inch of his life a small burglar who entered her house and she rather prides herself on being able to protect herself. Nor is this dread necessarily associated with any other disturbances of mind or nervous system. Some of the patients I have seen, who confess to suffering from it, were thoroughly sensible, brave little women, able to stand suffering well, not at all hysterical in nature, and who in the midst of worries found time to be thoughtful of others and not to have that selfishness which, even more than physical symptoms, is so apt to characterize hysterical patients.

I have had men confess to me their dread of cats, and while, as a rule, they were of delicate constitution and inclined to be nervous and did not have the phobia to an inordinate degree, there was no doubt that they were extremely uncomfortable whenever a cat was near them. On the other hand, some of them were vigorous, husky men with strong aversions. One of the most marked cases of ailurophobia that was ever brought to my attention was in an army officer who had exhibited bravery in battle on many occasions, and what requires much more strength of mind, calm fortitude in difficult campaigning, yet for whom a cat had many more terrors than the battery of an enemy or even an ambuscade of Filipinos. More cases of this particular [{618}] aversion seem to occur in clergymen than in other men, yet one of the worst cases I ever saw was in a priest of great moral courage, who had served a pest-house over and over again in smallpox epidemics.