Cuts, burns, etc., are remembered tolerably well. “In my youth I was wounded by a pistol-shot; I have a perfect recollection of the shock, which first produced a tactile sensation radiating from a centre, and afterwards pain, but I have a difficulty in recalling the painful element in the sensation.” Another can well remember the vesical contractions of a cystitis; but not without the help of the motor elements, as in the case of toothache. M. B——, who appears to belong to the affective type (I shall explain later on what I mean by this), feels the beginnings of a lancinating neuralgia in the eye, a cramp in the stomach, a smarting of the anus, a bite on the tongue. Another (same type) says, “If I were to try, I could recall the feeling of neuralgia, but I cannot represent to myself the pain of a boil.” Another: “There are some pains which I can feel at will; I either feel nothing at all, or the representation is so vivid that it almost amounts to actual pain. This is true especially of cardiac pains.”
It was my intention to question those who had undergone important operations; but, from the very general use of anæsthetics, there was little to be hoped for from such an experiment. There remains a case of frequent occurrence—the pains of childbirth. The answers are contradictory. One woman, who has had five confinements, declares that “as soon as it is over, there is nothing more.” This is a woman of vigorous health and unshaken optimism. Another says, “As soon as the pain is over, I can forget it at once.” The physician of a lying-in hospital told me that “nearly all, during their confinement, say that nothing would induce them to undergo such suffering again; yet nearly all return to the hospital.” Others say that they have, afterwards, a very clear and precise recollection of the labour-pains. Though these answers are so contradictory, we shall see, further on, how they are to be reconciled with one another.
Case 4. No revivability of the impression of labour-pains. Nervous subject. Good visual memory; no auditive memory; cannot recall either a taste or a smell; has made observations on herself in view of the subject in hand, and has sent me the following notes:—
"The first acute pains appeared about every fifteen or twenty minutes; during these intervals of repose they vanished, leaving no trace. During the intervals between the crises, the patient tried to represent to herself the pain she had just passed through, and found it absolutely impossible to do so. She could describe the pain in words,—pains in the back, the side, etc.,—and it was this verbal description which came back to her whenever she tried to recall her feelings at the time. Afterwards the pains became more and more frequent, and she could make no more observations. When they were extremely acute, she screamed and talked the whole time. It is curious to note that she did not pronounce her words as usual, but uttered each syllable several times, as thus: ‘ça, ça, ça, ça, fait, fait, fait, fait, très, très, maaaaal.’ She entreated her husband to kill her, to cut her into small pieces, to tear her asunder, if only there might be an end of it. After five hours of suffering, the doctor declared that all these pains had in nowise advanced the situation—that everything was as at the beginning. This declaration produced an acute feeling of despair, added to the pain. Five hours later all was over. Next day, when she tried to represent the pain to herself, there came into her mind only the verbal description, and afterwards the sum of her utterances during labour; she remembered that she had been unable to contain herself, that she understood the absurdity of what she had been saying to her husband, but thought, at the same time, ‘People sometimes do absurd things—why should he not do what I ask him?’ She remembered clearly that, after the doctor’s declaration, she had a feeling of despair; but she recalled it in words, not as a feeling."
In conclusion, I will quote from Fouillée, in connection with physical pain, an interesting observation made on himself:—
“If I want to recall any given attack of toothache, I must form a mental image of the teeth where the pain was localised, and then of the word pain which serves as a sign; but how am I to form an image of the pain in itself? Some philosophers declare the thing impossible, and allege that we only reproduce perceptions, intellectual states, and words. This is, in fact, what usually happens; but one can also, in my opinion, reproduce in the consciousness (though incompletely) the painful element of toothache. To this end we must employ an indirect method. This procedure consists in directly calling up the images and motor reactions which accompany or follow toothache. I make the experiment, localising my thoughts in one of the molars on the right side; then I wait. The first thing to revive is a vague and general state, common to all painful sensations. Then this reaction grows more precise, as I concentrate my attention more and more on the tooth. At last I feel a greater afflux of blood into the gum, and even throbbings. Then I represent to myself a certain movement passing from one point of the tooth or gum to another; this is the passage of the pain. Thus I also revive the motor reaction caused by the pain, the convulsion of the jaw, etc. Finally, by thinking fixedly of all these circumstances, I end by feeling in a more or less dull way the rudiments of shooting pains. In an experiment just made, I have brought on real toothache in a molar, which, however, is subject to it.... The experiment leaves behind it a general irritability of the teeth, and an inclination to pass the tongue over the gums.”[[102]]
Except for a few exceedingly clear observations, which I shall give later on, I have only vague replies regarding the revivability of sorrow, or moral pain, after the elimination of the conditions in which it had its origin. One person represents to himself “a general inertia and a febrile condition.” Another, who, during his time of military service, underwent periods of depression and ennui, “a year later, when the recollection comes back to him, sees everything of a grey hue.” We shall see presently that in some individuals the revival of moral pain is as acute as the initial state.
Pleasant States.—The same results are obtained, mutatis mutandis, as with the preceding group. I note a very marked predominance of the motor elements. The pleasures most frequently mentioned are those of skating, swimming, the trot or gallop of a horse, and various physical exercises. Those who really revive agreeable recollections, describe a general state of excitement, a dilatation of the chest, a lighting up of the countenance, a tendency towards childish gestures. One, in thinking of his rides, feels the pleasure of rapid motion, the wind playing over his cheeks, etc. Musicians can easily revive their pleasure by means of inner hearing alone. We find one who cannot think of the Walkürenritt without feeling himself lifted as if by motor impulses.
4. Emotions.—The phenomena of this group, though more complex, are, in fact, only a prolongation of our third group. But, in order to obtain a correct notion of their revivability, we must not proceed by way of generalities. To ask any given individual whether he is capable of reviving past emotions would be a useless question. I have always asked persons to try and recall a particular case of a particular emotion (fear, anger, love, etc.). The answers are reducible to three categories, which I shall enumerate in the order of their frequency.
In the greater number of cases, only the conditions, circumstances, and accessories of the emotion can be recalled; there is only an intellectual memory. The past event comes back to them with a certain emotional colouring (and sometimes even this is absent), a vague affective trace of what has once been but cannot be recalled. In the affective order these subjects are analogous to those of moderately good visual and auditory memory in the intellectual order. C——, who, when standing on a rock, narrowly escaped being surrounded by the tide, sees the waves rising, and recalls his desperate rush for the shore, which he reached in safety; but the emotion as such does not return to him. At Constantine, some years ago, I nearly fell into the gorge of the Rummel. When I think of the incident I can see before me quite clearly the landscape, the state of the sky, all the details of the spot; but the only return of feeling is a slight shiver in the back and legs.