Love, as a sthenic emotion, presents physical characteristics which connect it on the one hand with joy, on the other with tenderness, which have already been described. The circulation is accelerated, sometimes to an extreme degree, the respiration likewise, and they react on the organic functions. (We have already seen how, in many animals, the period of love corresponds to deeply-seated chemical modifications—usually of a toxic character—in the organism.) We find, further, movements of mutual repulsion, or of mutual attraction, the dominant part played by touch resumed in its essential organ, the hand, caresses, embraces, fusion; the movements of attraction being all the more noisy and violent, in proportion as the instinct predominates. Finally, as the specific mark, we find a particular state of the sexual organs, varying from slight excitement to paroxysm. This disturbance,—whether strong or weak,—even when it has no echo in the consciousness, influences the unconscious activity.[[157]]
If from the organic, motor, and vaso-motor manifestations we pass to the nervous centres, where impressions are received and movements initiated, we can find scarcely anything but hypotheses. One point only has been fixed since Budge’s researches: the existence in the spinal cord of a centre or an area on the level of the fourth lumbar vertebra, which governs the movements of the sexual act. Its psychological function is slight or non-existent: it is properly an instinctive centre, whose action is not obstructed by the removal of the cerebral hemispheres and the cerebellum, in the inferior vertebrates, and even in the dog, as proved by the experiments of Goltz and others. Some authors admit, without precise localisation, a second centre, situated near the ganglia at the base of the encephalon, which they suppose to be the seat of the brute sensations and their corresponding movements, and in relation with the centres of olfactory and visual sensations. This centre would have a psychological value. Lastly, a third and last centre in the cortical layer, the organ of perception properly so called, and of the revival of images. Nothing precise is known as to its position, whether it is localised in a certain area, or diffused. On this point we find nothing but hypotheses—if so much as that. The occipital lobes, the neighbourhood of the olfactory centre, have been suggested, but these are extremely doubtful. We have to be content with the admission that, from the genital organs, impressions are first transmitted to the lower or spinal centre, which exercises a reflex action on the corresponding systems of vascular, motor, and secretory innervation, and thence—whether there is an intermediate centre, or not—reach the cerebral cortex, where they produce a more or less definite state of consciousness, according to circumstances.
Anatomy and physiology are not the only sciences concerned in this question; for if the existence of these superposed centres, connected with each other, though distinct in function, were thoroughly established, this would give us certain landmarks, and lay down fixed conditions, or stages, in the development of sexual emotion, which may result from a state of the organs (instinctive form) or from an external perception, or from a pure representation (imaginative love). In the absence of an anatomical basis which might serve for the normal psychology of the subject, and still better for the comprehension of the pathological facts, let us follow the evolution of sexual love so far as observation enables us to do so. It has already been sketched in the Introduction, but too briefly for our present purpose.
2. We have distinguished, in this psychological evolution, three principal periods: the instinctive, the emotional, and the intellectualised.
Taking the question at its remotest origin, some naturalists and philosophers assert that the equivalents of sexual attraction exist in living beings devoid of nervous systems, in vegetable or animal micro-organisms. “It is curious,” says Balbiani, “to find, in beings who from their small size, and the external simplicity of their organisation, have been placed by all zoologists at the furthest limit of the animal world, actions denoting the existence of phenomena analogous to those by which the sex-instinct manifests itself in a great number of metazoa.... Thus, with the paramæcids, at the moment of propagation ... a higher instinct seems to govern these little animals; they seek and pursue each other, they go from one to another, feeling each other with their cilia, cling to one another for some instants in the attitude of sexual approach, and then let go in order to seize each other again. These singular games, by which these animalcules seem in turn to provoke one another to the act of copulation, often last for several days before the act becomes definitive.” Other facts of the same nature have been cited. Finally, it has been said that “the coupling of the two sexual elements is analogous to the coupling of the two animals whence these elements are derived: the spermatozoid and the ovule do on a small scale what the two individuals do on a large one; the spermatic element, in directing itself towards the ovule which it is to fertilise, is animated by the same sexual instinct which guides the complete being towards the female of the same species.”[[158]]
If we confine ourselves to the micro-organisms, these facts of sexual attraction have been interpreted in two ways, as we have already seen—one psychological, the other chemical. Some, as we have just heard, admit a desire, an elective action, a choice, quoting in support of this not only the phenomena of generation, but several others: as the habitat, the use of a certain substance in the formation of the carapace, the movements of certain micro-organisms in seeking and seizing a determined prey. Others reject this psychology, which they call anthropomorphism, and maintain that chemical action is sufficient to explain the whole. Pfeffer had already shown, as far as generation is concerned, that the spermatozoids of the cryptogamia are attracted by certain chemical substances varying according to the vegetable species. More recently, Maupas and Verworn, who have successively studied the alleged cases of choice, eliminate all psychical elements and reduce the whole to a purely mechanical process. I am inclined to adopt the second opinion, while recognising that, as far as problems of origin are concerned, we decide by probabilities rather than proofs.
Above this chemical or organic attraction we find the sex-instinct properly so called, which, with its numberless adaptations, embraces the whole animal world. It is useless to prove that this instinct is fatal, blind, not acquired, anterior to all experience; but, as by its nature it consists essentially of motor manifestations, its psychology is scanty enough. Some remarks on this point may not be without advantage. In fact, as regards the problem of instinct, an entirely new position has been taken up.
During the first half of this century the inneity of instinct was placed in the order of cognition, while recent psychology places it in the order of movements, or, to be more accurate, in a fixed relation between certain states of consciousness and certain movements. According to the first hypothesis, stated in a masterly manner by F. Cuvier, instinct consists in images, or innate and constant sensations, which determine to action in the same manner as ordinary sensations; it is “a sort of vision, a dream, analogous to somnambulism.” According to the second hypothesis, sensations, perceptions, and images excite movements determined by the organisation, as in the case of ducklings when they see the water, the kitten scenting a mouse, the squirrel laying up its winter store. There are no innate representations, or even innate movements, but a pre-established relation between some fortuitous impressions and a group of movements: instinct is the innate motor reaction to an external or internal excitement; it results from the nature of the animal. The impression only pulls the trigger and the shot is fired. Like every other instinct, that of sex consists in a fixed relation between internal sensations coming from the genital organs, or tactile, visual or olfactory perceptions on the one hand, and movements adapted to an end on the other. As far as it is an instinct, it is that and nothing but that. In the immense majority of animals, and frequently in men, it does not rise above this level; in plainer words, it is not accompanied by any tender emotion. The act once accomplished, there is separation and oblivion. More than this, in some cases there is not even indifference, but hostility: the males of the queen bee are put to death as useless, and it is well known that the mate of the female spider often runs the risk of being devoured.
Sexual love corresponds to a higher form of evolution. Over and above instinct, it implies the addition of a certain degree of tender feeling. It is not therefore a simple emotion, even in the tolerably numerous species of animals in which it can be studied. In man, more especially in civilised man, its complexity becomes extreme. The analysis made by Herbert Spencer is well known and somewhat lengthy, yet I do not hesitate to transcribe it, since I can find no other to equal it, nor any point which could be added or subtracted:—
“... The passion which unites the sexes ... is habitually spoken of as though it were a simple feeling; whereas it is the most compound, and therefore the most powerful, of all the feelings. Added to the purely physical elements of it are first to be noticed those highly complex impressions produced by personal beauty, around which are aggregated a variety of pleasurable ideas, not in themselves amatory, but which have an organised relation to the amatory feeling. With this there is united the complex sentiment which we term affection—a sentiment which, as it can exist between those of the same sex, must be regarded as an independent sentiment, but one which is here greatly exalted. Then there is the sentiment of admiration, respect, or reverence; in itself one of considerable power, and which, in this relation, becomes in a high degree active. Then comes next the feeling called love of approbation. To be preferred above all the world, and that by one admired beyond all others, is to have the love of approbation gratified in a degree passing every previous experience, especially as there is that indirect gratification of it which results from the preference being witnessed by unconcerned persons. Further, the allied emotion of self-esteem comes into play. To have succeeded in gaining such attachment from, and sway over, another, is a proof of power which cannot fail agreeably to excite the amour propre. Yet again, the proprietary feeling has its share in the general activity: there is the pleasure of possession; the two belong to each other. Once more, the relation allows of an extended liberty of action. Towards other persons a restrained behaviour is requisite. Round each there is a subtle boundary that may not be crossed—an individuality on which none may trespass. But in this case the barriers are thrown down, and thus the love of unrestrained activity is gratified. Finally, there is an exaltation of the sympathies. Egoistic pleasures of all kinds are doubled by another’s sympathetic participation, and the pleasures of another are added to the egoistic pleasures. Thus, round the physical feeling forming the nucleus of the whole, are gathered the feelings produced by personal beauty; that constituting simple attachment, those of reverence, of love of approbation, of self-esteem, of property, of love of freedom, of sympathy. These, all greatly exalted, and severally tending to reflect their excitements on one another, unite to form the mental state we call love. And as each of them is itself comprehensive of multitudinous states of consciousness, we may say that this passion fuses into one immense aggregate most of the elementary excitations of which we are capable; and that hence results its irresistible power.”[[159]]