CHAP. XV. EXTERNAL SIGNS OF EMOTIONS AND PASSIONS. So intimately connected are the soul and body, that every agitation in the former produceth a visible effect upon the latter. There is, at the same time, a wonderful uniformity in that operation; each class of emotions and passions being invariably attended with an external appearance peculiar to itself. These external appearances or signs may not improperly be considered as a natural language, expressing to all beholders emotions and passions as they arise in the heart. Hope, fear, joy, grief, are displayed externally: the character of a man can be read on his face; and beauty which makes so deep an impression, is known to result not so much from regular features or a fine complexion, as from good-nature, good sense, sprightliness, sweetness, or other mental quality expressed upon the countenance. Though perfect skill in that language be rare, yet what is generally known is sufficient for the ordinary purposes of life. But by what means we come to understand the language is a point of some intricacy it cannot be by sight merely; for upon the most attentive inspection of the human face, all that can be discerned are figure, colour, and motion, which, singly or combined, never can represent a passion, nor a sentiment: the external sign is indeed visible; but to understand its meaning we must be able to connect it with the passion that causes it, an operation far beyond the reach of eyesight. Where then is the instructor to be found that can unveil this secret connexion? If we apply to experience, it is yielded, that, from long and diligent observation, we may gather, in some measure, in what manner those we are acquainted with express their passions externally but, with respect to strangers, we are left in the dark; and yet we are not puzzled about the meaning of these external expressions in a stranger, more than in a bosom companion. Further, had we no other means but experience for understanding the external signs of passion, we could not expect any degree of skill in the bulk of individuals: yet matters are so much better ordered, that the external expressions of passions form a language understood by all, by the young as well as the old, by the ignorant as well as the learned: I talk of the plain and legible characters of that language; for undoubtedly we are much indebted to experience in deciphering the dark and more delicate expressions. Where then shall we apply for a solution of this intricate problem, which seems to penetrate deep into human nature? In my mind it will be convenient to suspend the inquiry till we are better acquainted with the nature of external signs, and with their operations. These articles, therefore, shall be premised. * Omnis enim motus animi suum quemdam a natura habet vultum et sonum et gestum. Cicero, l. 3. De Oratore, The external signs of passion are of two kinds, voluntary and involuntary. The voluntary signs are also of two kinds; some are arbitrary, some natural. Words are obviously voluntary signs; and they are also arbitrary, excepting a few simple sounds expressive of certain internal emotions; which sounds being the same in all languages, must be the work of nature. Thus the unpremeditated tones of admiration are the same in all men, as also of compassion, resentment, and despair. Dramatic writers ought to be well acquainted with this natural language of passion. The chief talent of such a writer is a ready command of the expressions that nature dictates to every person, when any vivid emotion struggles for utterance; and the chief talent of a fine reader is a ready command of tones suited to these expressions. The other kind of voluntary signs comprehends certain attitudes or gestures that naturally accompany certain emotions with a surprising uniformity. Excessive joy is expressed by leaping, dancing, or some elevation of the body; excessive grief, by sinking or depressing it; and prostration and kneeling have been employed by all nations, and in all ages, to signify profound veneration. Another circumstance, still more than uniformity, demonstrates these gestures to be natural, viz. their remarkable conformity or resemblance to the passions that produce them.* Joy, which is a cheerful elevation of mind, is expressed by an elevation of body. Pride, magnanimity, courage, and the whole tribe of elevating passions, are expressed by external gestures that are the same as to the circumstance of elevation, however distinguishable in other respects; and hence an erect posture is a sign or expression of dignity: Two of far nobler shape, erect and tall, In naked majesty, seem'd lords of all.-Paradise Lost, book 4. Grief, on the other hand, as well as respect, which depress the mind, cannot, for that reason, be expressed more significantly than by a similar depression of the body; and hence to be cast down is a common phrase, signifying to be grieved or dispirited.† One would not imagine, who has not given peculiar attention, that the body should be susceptible of such variety of attitude and motion, as readily to accompany every different emotion with a corresponding expression. Humility, for example, is expressed natu rally by hanging the head; arrogance by its elevation; and languor or despondence by reclining it to one side. The expressions of the hands are manifold. By different attitudes and motions they express desire, hope, fear; they assist us in promising, in inviting, in keeping one at a distance; they are made instruments of threatening, of supplication, of praise, and of horror; they are employed in approving, in refusing, in questioning; in shewing our joy, our * See chap. 2, part 6. + Instead of a complimental speech in addressing a superior, the Chinese deliver the compliment in writing, the smallness of the letters being proportioned to the degree of respect; and the highest compliment is, to make the letters so small as not to be legible. Here is a clear evidence of a mental connexion between respect and littleness; a man humbles himself before his superior, and endeavours to contract himself and his hand-writing within the smallest bounds. sorrow, our doubts, our regret, our admiration. These expressions, so obedient to passion, are extremely difficult to be imitated in a calm state. The ancients, sensible of the advantage as well as difficulty of having these expressions at command, bestowed much time and care in collecting them from observation, and in digesting them into a practical art, which was taught in their schools as an important branch of education. Certain sounds are by nature allotted to each passion for expressing it externally. The actor, who has these sounds at command to captivate the ear, is mighty; if he have also proper gestures at command to captivate the eye, he is irresistible. The foregoing signs, though in a strict sense voluntary, cannot, however, be restrained but with the utmost difficulty when prompted by passion. We scarce need a stronger proof than the gestures of a keen player at bowls: observe only how he writhes his body in order to restore a stray bowl to the right track. It is one article of good-breeding to suppress, as much as possible, these external signs of passion, that we may not in company appear too warm or too interested. The same observation holds in speech. A passion, it is true, when in extreme, is silent ;* but when less violent, it must be vented in words, which have a peculiar force not to be equalled in a sedate composition. The ease and security we have in a confidant, may encourage us to talk of ourselves and of our feelings; but the cause is more general, for it operates when we are alone as well as in company. Passion is the cause; for, in many instances, it is no slight gratification to vent a passion externally by words as well as by gestures. Some passions, when at a certain height, impel us so strongly to vent them in words, that we speak with an audible voice even when there is none to listen. It is that circumstance in passion which justifies soliloquies; and it is that circumstance which proves them to be natural. The mind sometimes favours this impulse of passion, by bestowing a temporary sensibility upon any object at hand, in order to make it a confidant. Thus, in the Winter's Tale,‡ Antigonus addresses himself to an infant whom he was ordered to expose : Come, poor babe! I have heard, but not believ'd, that spirits of the dead * See chap. 17. Though a soliloquy in the perturbation of passion is undoubtedly natural, aed, indeed, not unfrequent in real life, yet Congreve, who himself has penned several good soliloquies, yields, with more candour than knowledge, that they are unnatural, and he only pretends to justify them from necessity. This he does in his dedication of the Double Dealer in the following words: "When a man in a soliloquy reasons with himself, and pro's and con's, and weighs all bis designs, we ought not to imagine that this man either talks to us or to himself; he is only thinking, and thinking (frequently) such matter as it were inexcusable folly in him to speak. But because we are concealed spectators of the plot in agitation, and the poet finds it necessary to let us know the whole mystery of his contrivance, he is willing to inform us of this person's thoughts, and to that end is forced to make use of the expedient of speech, no other better way being yet invented for the communication of thought." Act 3. sc. 6. The involuntary signs, which are all of them natural, are either peculiar to one passion, or common to many. Every vivid passion hath an external expression peculiar to itself, not excepting pleasant passions; witness admiration and mirth. The pleasant emotions that are less vivid have one common expression, from which we may gather the strength of the emotion, but scarce the kind. We perceive a cheerful or contented look, and we can make no more of it. Painful passions, being all of them violent, are distinguishable from each other by their external expressions; thus fear, shame, anger, anxiety, dejection, despair, have each of them peculiar expressions, which are apprehended without the least confusion. Some painful passions produce violent effects upon the body; trembling, for example, starting, and swooning; but these effects depending in a good measure upon singularity of constitution, are not uniform in all men. The involuntary signs, such of them as are displayed upon the countenance, are of two kinds; some are temporary, making their appearance with the emotions that produce them, and vanishing with these emotions; others being formed gradually by some violent passion often recurring, become permanent signs of that passion, and serve to denote the disposition or temper. The face of an infant indicates no particular disposition, because it cannot be marked with any character to which time is necessary. Even the temporary signs are extremely awkward, being the first rude essays of nature discover internal feelings. Thus the shrieking of a newborn infant, without tears or sobbings, is plainly an attempt to weep; and some of these temporary signs, as smiling and frowning, cannot be observed for some months after birth. Permanent signs formed in youth, while the body is soft and flexible, are preserved entire by the firmness and solidity that the body acquires, and are never obliterated even by a change of temper. Such signs are not produced after the fibres become rigid, some violent cases excepted, such as reiterated fits of the gout or stone through a course of time. But these signs are not so obstinate as what are produced in youth; for when the cause is removed, they gradually wear away, and at last vanish. The natural signs of emotions, voluntary and involuntary, being nearly the same in all men, form a universal language, which no distance of place, no difference of tribe, no diversity of tongue, can darken or render doubtful: even education, though of mighty influence, hath not power to vary nor sophisticate, far less to destroy, their signification. This is a wise appointment of Providence; for if these signs were, like words, arbitrary and variable, the thoughts and volitions of strangers would be entirely hid from us; which would prove a great, or rather invincible, obstruction to the formation of societies: but, as matters are ordered, the external appearances of joy, grief, anger, fear, shame, and of the other passions, forming an universal language, open a direct avenue to the heart. As the arbitrary signs vary in every country, there could be no communication of thoughts among different nations, were it not for the natural signs in which all agree and as the discovering passions instantly at their birth is essential to our well-being, and often necessary for self-preservation, the author of our nature, attentive to our wants, hath provided a passage to the heart which never can be obstructed while eyesight remains. In an inquiry concerning the external signs of passion, actions must not be overlooked; for though singly they afford no clear light, they are, upon the whole, the best interpreters of the heart.* By observing a man's conduct for a course of time, we discover unerringly the various passions that move him to action, what he loves, and what he hates. In our younger years every single action is a mark, not at all ambiguous, of the temper,-for in childhood there is little or no disguise: the subject becomes more intricate in advanced age; but, even there, dissimulation is seldom carried on for any length of time, and thus the conduct of life is the most perfect expression of the internal disposition. It merits not, indeed, the title of a universal language, because it is not thoroughly understood but by those of penetrating genius or extensive observation; it is a language, however, which every one can decipher in some measure, and which, joined with the other external signs, affords sufficient means for the direction of our conduct with regard to others. If we commit any mistake when such light is afforded, it can never be the effect of unavoidable ignorance, but of rashness or inadver tence. Strong Reflecting on the various expressions of our emotions, we recognise the anxious care of nature to discover men to each other. emotions, as above hinted, beget an impatience to express them externally by speech and other voluntary signs, which cannot be suppressed without a painful effort; thus a sudden fit of passion is a common excuse for indecent behaviour, or opprobrious language. As to involuntary signs, these are altogether unavoidable; no volition nor effort can prevent the shaking of the limbs nor a pale visage in a fit of terror; the blood flies to the face upon a sudden emotion of shame, in spite of all opposition. Vergogna, che'n altrui stampo natura, Di cacciarla dal cor, fugge nel volto.-Pastor Fide, act 2. sc. 5. Emotions indeed, properly so called, which are quiescent, produce no remarkable signs externally. Nor is it necessary that the more deliberate passions should, because the operation of such passions is neither sudden nor violent: these, however, remain not altogether in obscurity; for, being more frequent than violent The actions here chiefly in view are what a passion suggests in order to its gratification. Beside these, actions are occasionally exerted to give some vent to a passion, without any view to an ultimate gratification. Such occasional action is characteristical of the passion in a high degree; and for that reason, when happily invented, has a wonderful good effect: Hamlet. Oh most pernicious woman! Oh villain! villain! smiling damned villain! That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain! [Writing. |