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Don Marquis - "Hermione and Her Little Group of Serious Thinkers"

Charles Dickens - "Master Humphrey's Clock"

Robert Louis Stevenson - "Underwoods"

Jack London - "Love of Life And Other Stories"

The Expression of Emotion in Man and Animals

C >> Charles Darwin >> The Expression of Emotion in Man and Animals




_Love, tender feelings, &c_.--Although the emotion of love,
for instance that of a mother for her infant, is one of the strongest
of which the mind is capable, it can hardly be said to have any
proper or peculiar means of expression; and this is intelligible,
as it has not habitually led to any special line of action.
No doubt, as affection is a pleasurable sensation, it generally
causes a gentle smile and some brightening of the eyes.
A strong desire to touch the beloved person is commonly felt;
and love is expressed by this means more plainly than by any other.[21]
Hence we long to clasp in our arms those whom we tenderly love.
We probably owe this desire to inherited habit, in association
with the nursing and tending of our children, and with the mutual
caresses of lovers.


[19] Crantz, quoted by Tylor, `Primitive Culture,' 1871, Vol. i. P. 169.

[20] F. Lieber, `Smithsonian Contributions,' 1851, vol. ii. p. 7.

With the lower animals we see the same principle of
pleasure derived from contact in association with love.
Dogs and cats manifestly take pleasure in rubbing against their
masters and mistresses, and in being rubbed or patted by them.
Many kinds of monkeys, as I am assured by the keepers in
the Zoological Gardens, delight in fondling and being fondled
by each other, and by persons to whom they are attached.
Mr. Bartlett has described to me the behaviour of two chimpanzees,
rather older animals than those generally imported into
this country, when they were first brought together.
They sat opposite, touching each other with their much protruded lips;
and the one put his hand on the shoulder of the other.
They then mutually folded each other in their arms.
Afterwards they stood up, each with one arm on the shoulder
of the other, lifted up their heads, opened their mouths,
and yelled with delight.


[21] Mr. Bain remarks (`Mental and Moral Science,' 1868, p.
239), "Tenderness is a pleasurable emotion, variously stimulated,
whose effort is to draw human beings into mutual embrace."

We Europeans are so accustomed to kissing as a mark of affection, that it
might be thought to be innate in mankind; but this is not the case.
Steele was mistaken when he said "Nature was its author, and it
began with the first courtship." Jemmy Button, the Fuegian, told me
that this practice was unknown in his land. It is equally unknown with
the New Zealanders, Tahitians, Papuans, Australians, Somals of Africa,
and the Esquimaux." But it is so far innate or natural that it
apparently depends on pleasure from close contact with a beloved person;
and it is replaced in various parts of the world, by the rubbing of noses,
as with the New Zealanders and Laplanders, by the rubbing or patting
of the arms, breasts, or stomachs, or by one man striking his own face
with the hands or feet of another. Perhaps the practice of blowing,
as a mark of affection, on various parts of the body may depend on
the same principle.[23]

The feelings which are called tender are difficult to analyse;
they seem to be compounded of affection, joy, and especially of sympathy.
These feelings are in themselves of a pleasurable nature, excepting when pity
is too deep, or horror is aroused, as in hearing of a tortured man or animal.
They are remarkable under our present point of view from so readily exciting
the secretion of tears. Many a father and son have wept on meeting
after a long separation, especially if the meeting has been unexpected.
No doubt extreme joy by itself tends to act on the lacrymal glands;
but on such occasions as the foregoing vague thoughts of the grief which would
have been felt had the father and son never met, will probably have passed
through their minds; and grief naturally leads to the secretion of tears.
Thus on the return of Ulysses:--"Telemachus
Rose, and clung weeping round his father's breast.
There the pent grief rained o'er them, yearning thus.
* * * * * *
Thus piteously they wailed in sore unrest,
And on their weepings had gone down the day,
But that at last Telemachus found words to say."
_Worsley's Translation of the Odyssey_, Book xvi. st. 27.

So again when Penelope at last recognized her husband:--

"Then from her eyelids the quick tears did start
And she ran to him from her place, and threw
Her arms about his neck, and a warm dew
Of kisses poured upon him, and thus spake:"
Book xxiii. st. 27.



[22] Sir J. Lubbock, `Prehistoric Times,' 2nd edit.
1869, p. 552, gives full authorities for these statements.
The quotation from Steele is taken from this work.

[23] See a full acount,{sic} with references, by E. B. Tylor, `Researches into
the Early History of Mankind,' 2nd edit. 1870, p. 51.


The vivid recollection of our former home, or of long-past happy days,
readily causes the eyes to be suffused with tears; but here, again,
the thought naturally occurs that these days will never return.
In such cases we may be said to sympathize with ourselves in our present,
in comparison with our former, state. Sympathy with the distresses
of others, even with the imaginary distresses of a heroine in a
pathetic story, for whom we feel no affection, readily excites tears.
So does sympathy with the happiness of others, as with that of a lover,
at last successful after many hard trials in a well-told tale.

Sympathy appears to constitute a separate or distinct emotion;
and it is especially apt to excite the lacrymal glands.
This holds good whether we give or receive sympathy.
Every one must have noticed how readily children burst out crying
if we pity them for some small hurt. With the melancholic insane,
as Dr. Crichton Browne informs me, a kind word will often plunge
them into unrestrained weeping. As soon as we express our pity
for the grief of a friend, tears often come into our own eyes.
The feeling of sympathy is commonly explained by assuming that,
when we see or hear of suffering in another, the idea of suffering
is called up so vividly in our own minds that we ourselves suffer.
But this explanation is hardly sufficient, for it does not account
for the intimate alliance between sympathy and affection.
We undoubtedly sympathize far more deeply with a beloved than
with an indifferent person; and the sympathy of the one gives us
far more relief than that of the other. Yet assuredly we can
sympathize with those for whom we feel no affection.

Why suffering, when actually experienced by ourselves,
excites weeping, has been discussed in a former chapter.
With respect to joy, its natural and universal expression is laughter;
and with all the races of man loud laughter leads to the secretion
of tears more freely than does any other cause excepting distress.
The suffusion of the eyes with tears, which undoubtedly occurs
under great joy, though there is no laughter, can, as it seems to me,
be explained through habit and association on the same principles
as the effusion of tears from grief, although there is no screaming.
Nevertheless it is not a little remarkable that sympathy
with the distresses of others should excite tears more freely
than our own distress; and this certainly is the case.
Many a man, from whose eyes no suffering of his own could wring
a tear, has shed tears at the sufferings of a beloved friend.
It is still more remarkable that sympathy with the happiness or good
fortune of those whom we tenderly love should lead to the same result,
whilst a similar happiness felt by ourselves would leave our eyes dry.
We should, however, bear in mind that the long-continued habit
of restraint which is so powerful in checking the free flow of tears
from bodily pain, has not been brought into play in preventing
a moderate effusion of tears in sympathy with the sufferings
or happiness of others.

Music has a wonderful power, as I have elsewhere attempted to show,[24]
of recalling in a vague and indefinite manner, those strong emotions
which were felt during long-past ages, when, as is probable,
our early progenitors courted each other by the aid of vocal tones.
And as several of our strongest emotions--grief, great joy, love,
and sympathy--lead to the free secretion of tears, it is not surprising
that music should be apt to cause our eyes to become suffused
with tears, especially when we are already softened by any of the
tenderer feelings. Music often produces another peculiar effect.
We know that every strong sensation, emotion, or excitement--
extreme pain, rage, terror, joy, or the passion of love--
all have a special tendency to cause the muscles to tremble;
and the thrill or slight shiver which runs down the backbone and
limbs of many persons when they are powerfully affected by music,
seems to bear the same relation to the above trembling of the body,
as a slight suffusion of tears from the power of music does to weeping
from any strong and real emotion.

_Devotion_.--As devotion is, in some degree, related to affection,
though mainly consisting of reverence, often combined with fear,
the expression of this state of mind may here be briefly noticed.
With some sects, both past and present, religion and love
have been strangely combined; and it has even been maintained,
lamentable as the fact may be, that the holy kiss of love
differs but little from that which a man bestows on a woman,
or a woman on a man.[25] Devotion is chiefly expressed by the face
being directed towards the heavens, with the eyeballs upturned.
Sir C. Bell remarks that, at the approach of sleep,
or of a fainting-fit, or of death, the pupils are drawn
upwards and inwards; and he believes that "when we are wrapt
in devotional feelings, and outward impressions are unheeded,
the eyes are raised by an action neither taught nor acquired."
and that this is due to the same cause as in the above
cases.[26] That the eyes are upturned during sleep is,
as I hear from Professor Donders, certain. With babies,
whilst sucking their mother's breast, this movement of the eyeballs
often gives to them an absurd appearance of ecstatic delight;
and here it may be clearly perceived that a struggle is going
on against the position naturally assumed during sleep.
But Sir C. Bell's explanation of the fact, which rests on the
assumption that certain muscles are more under the control of the will
than others is, as I hear from Professor Donders, incorrect.
As the eyes are often turned up in prayer, without the mind being
so much absorbed in thought as to approach to the unconsciousness
of sleep, the movement is probably a conventional one--
the result of the common belief that Heaven, the source of Divine
power to which we pray, is seated above us.


[24] `The Descent of Man,' vol. ii. p. 336.

A humble kneeling posture, with the hands upturned and palms joined,
appears to us, from long habit, a gesture so appropriate to devotion,
that it might be thought to be innate; but I have not met with any
evidence to this effect with the various extra-European races of mankind.
During the classical period of Roman history it does not appear, as I hear
from an excellent classic, that the hands were thus joined during prayer.
Mr. Rensleigh Wedgwood has apparently given[27] the true explanation,
though this implies that the attitude is one of slavish subjection.
"When the suppliant kneels and holds up his hands with the palms joined,
he represents a captive who proves the completeness of his submission
by offering up his hands to be bound by the victor. It is the pictorial
representation of the Latin _dare manus_, to signify submission."
Hence it is not probable that either the uplifting of the eyes or the joining
of the open hands, under the influence of devotional feelings, are innate
or truly expressive actions; and this could hardly have been expected,
for it is very doubtful whether feelings, such as we should now rank
as devotional, affected the hearts of men, whilst they remained during
past ages in an uncivilized condition.



[25] Dr. Mandsley has a discussion to this effect in his `Body
and Mind,' 1870, p. 85.

[26] `The Anatomy of Expression,' p. 103, and `Philosophical Transactions,'
1823, p. 182.


[27] `The Origin of Language,' 1866, p. 146. Mr. Tylor (`Early History
of Mankind,' 2nd edit. 1870, p. 48) gives a more complex origin
to the position of the hands during prayer. CHAPTER IX.

REFLECTION--MEDITATION-ILL-TEMPER--SULKINESS--DETERMINATION.

The act of frowning--Reflection with an effort, or with
the perception of something difficult or disagreeable--
Abstracted meditation--Ill-temper--Moroseness--Obstinacy Sulkiness
and pouting--Decision or determination--The firm closure
of the mouth.


THE corrugators, by their contraction, lower the eyebrows and bring
them together, producing vertical furrows on the forehead--that is, a frown.
Sir C. Bell, who erroneously thought that the corrugator was peculiar
to man, ranks it as "the most remarkable muscle of the human face.
It knits the eyebrows with an energetic effort, which unaccountably,
but irresistibly, conveys the idea of mind." Or, as he elsewhere says,
"when the eyebrows are knit, energy of mind is apparent, and there
is the mingling of thought and emotion with the savage and brutal
rage of the mere animal."[1] There is much truth in these remarks,
but hardly the whole truth. Dr. Duchenne has called the corrugator
the muscle of reflection;[2] but this name, without some limitation,
cannot be considered as quite correct.


[1] `Anatomy of Expression,' pp. 137, 139. It is not surprising
that the corrugators should have become much more developed in man
than in the anthropoid apes; for they are brought into incessant
action by him under various circumstances, and will have been
strengthened and modified by the inherited effects of use.
We have seen how important a part they play, together with
the orbiculares, in protecting the eyes from being too much
gorged with blood during violent expiratory movements.
When the eyes are closed as quickly and as forcibly as possible,
to save them from being injured by a blow, the corrugators contract.
With savages or other men whose heads are uncovered, the eyebrows
are continually lowered and contracted to serve as a shade against
a too strong light; and this is effected partly by the corrugators.
This movement would have been more especially serviceable to man,
as soon as his early progenitors held their heads erect.
Lastly, Prof. Donders believes (`Archives of Medicine,' ed.
by L. Beale, 1870, vol. v. p. 34), that the corrugators are brought
into action in causing the eyeball to advance in accommodation
for proximity in vision.

A man may be absorbed in the deepest thought, and his brow
will remain smooth until he encounters some obstacle in his
train of reasoning, or is interrupted by some disturbance,
and then a frown passes like a shadow over his brow.
A half-starved man may think intently how to obtain food,
but he probably will not frown unless he encounters either in thought
or action some difficulty, or finds the food when obtained nauseous.
I have noticed that almost everyone instantly frowns if
he perceives a strange or bad taste in what he is eating.
I asked several persons, without explaining my object,
to listen intently to a very gentle tapping sound, the nature
and source of which they all perfectly knew, and not one frowned;
but a man who joined us, and who could not conceive what we were
all doing in profound silence, when asked to listen, frowned much,
though not in an ill-temper, and said he could not in the least
understand what we all wanted. Dr. Piderit[3] who has published
remarks to the same effect, adds that stammerers generally
frown in speaking, and that a man in doing even so trifling
a thing as pulling on a boot, frowns if he finds it too tight.
Some persons are such habitual frowners, that the mere effort
of speaking almost always causes their brows to contract.



[2] `Mecanisme de la Physionomie Humaine,' Album, Legende iii.

[3] `Mimik und Physiognomik,' s. 46.

Men of all races frown when they are in any way perplexed in thought,
as I infer from the answers which I have received to my queries; but I framed
them badly, confounding absorbed meditation with perplexed reflection.
Nevertheless, it is clear that the Australians, Malays, Hindoos, and Kafirs
of South Africa frown, when they are puzzled. Dobritzhoffer remarks
that the Guaranies of South America on like occasions knit their brows.[4]

From these considerations, we may conclude that frowning
is not the expression of simple reflection, however profound,
or of attention, however close, but of something difficult
or displeasing encountered in a train of thought or in action.
Deep reflection can, however, seldom be long carried on without
some difficulty, so that it will generally be accompanied by a frown.
Hence it is that frowning commonly gives to the countenance,
as Sir C. Bell remarks, an aspect of intellectual energy.
But in order that this effect may be produced, the eyes must be
clear and steady, or they may be cast downwards, as often occurs
in deep thought. The countenance must not be otherwise disturbed,
as in the case of an ill-tempered or peevish man, or of one
who shows the effects of prolonged suffering, with dulled eyes
and drooping jaw, or who perceives a bad taste in his food,
or who finds it difficult to perform some trifling act,
such as threading a needle. In these cases a frown may often
be seen, but it will be accompanied by some other expression,
which will entirely prevent the countenance having an appearance
of intellectual energy or of profound thought.


[4] `History of the Abipones,' Eng. translat. vol. ii. p. 59, as quoted
by Lubbock, `Origin of Civilisation,' 1870, p. 355.

We may now inquire how it is that a frown should express the perception
of something difficult or disagreeable, either in thought or action.
In the same way as naturalists find it advisable to trace the embryological
development of an organ in order fully to understand its structure,
so with the movements of expression it is advisable to follow as nearly
as possible the same plan. The earliest and almost sole expression
seen during the first days of infancy, and then often exhibited is
that displayed during the act of screaming; and screaming is excited,
both at first and for some time afterwards, by every distressing or
displeasing sensation and emotion,--by hunger, pain, anger, jealousy, fear,
&c. At such times the muscles round the eyes are strongly contracted;
and this, as I believe, explains to a large extent the act of frowning
during the remainder of our lives. I repeatedly observed my own infants,
from under the age of one week to that of two or three months,
and found that when a screaming-fit came on gradually, the first sign
was the contraction of the corrugators, which produced a slight frown,
quickly followed by the contraction of the other muscles round the eyes.
When an infant is uncomfortable or unwell, little frowns--as I record
in my notes--may be seen incessantly passing like shadows over its face;
these being generally, but not always, followed sooner or later by a
crying-fit. For instance, I watched for some time a baby, between seven
and eight weeks old, sucking some milk which was cold, and therefore
displeasing to him; and a steady little frown was maintained all the time.
This was never developed into an actual crying-fit, though occasionally
every stage of close approach could be observed.

As the habit of contracting the brows has been followed by infants
during innumerable generations, at the commencement of every
crying or screaming fit, it has become firmly associated with
the incipient sense of something distressing or disagreeable.
Hence under similar circumstances it would be apt to be continued
during maturity, although never then developed into a crying-fit.
Screaming or weeping begins to be voluntarily restrained at an early
period of life, whereas frowning is hardly ever restrained at any age.
It is perhaps worth notice that with children much given to weeping,
anything which perplexes their minds, and which would cause
most other children merely to frown, readily makes them weep.
So with certain classes of the insane, any effort of mind,
however slight, which with an habitual frowner would cause
a slight frown, leads to their weeping in an unrestrained manner.
It is not more surprising that the habit of contracting the brows
at the first perception of something distressing, although gained
during infancy, should be retained during the rest of our lives,
than that many other associated habits acquired at an early age
should be permanently retained both by man and the lower animals.
For instance, full-grown cats, when feeling warm and comfortable,
often retain the habit of alternately protruding their fore-feet
with extended toes, which habit they practised for a definite
purpose whilst sucking their mothers.

Another and distinct cause has probably strengthened the habit of frowning,
whenever the mind is intent on any subject and encounters some difficulty.
Vision is the most important of all the senses, and during primeval times
the closest attention must have been incessantly: directed towards
distant objects for the sake of obtaining prey and avoiding danger.
I remember being struck, whilst travelling in parts of South America,
which were dangerous from the presence of Indians, how incessantly,
yet as it appeared unconsciously, the half-wild Gauchos closely scanned
the whole horizon. Now, when any one with no covering on his head
(as must have been aboriginally the case with mankind), strives
to the utmost to distinguish in broad daylight, and especially
if the sky is bright, a distant object, he almost invariably
contracts his brows to prevent the entrance of too much light;
the lower eyelids, cheeks, and upper lip being at the same time raised,
so as to lessen the orifice of the eyes. I have purposely asked
several persons, young and old, to look, under the above circumstances,
at distant objects, making them believe that I only wished to test the power
of their vision; and they all behaved in the manner just described.
Some of them, also, put their open, flat hands over their eyes to keep
out the excess of light. Gratiolet, after making some remarks to nearly
the same effect,[5] says, "Ce sont la des attitudes de vision difficile."
He concludes that the muscles round the eyes contract partly for
the sake of excluding too much light (which appears to me the more
important end), and partly to prevent all rays striking the retina,
except those which come direct from the object that is scrutinized.
Mr. Bowman, whom I consulted on this point, thinks that the contraction
of the surrounding muscles may, in addition, "partly sustain the consensual
movements of the two eyes, by giving a firmer support while the globes
are brought to binocular vision by their own proper muscles."

As the effort of viewing with care under a bright light a distant
object is both difficult and irksome, and as this effort has
been habitually accompanied, during numberless generations,
by the contraction of the eyebrows, the habit of frowning will
thus have been much strengthened; although it was originally
practised during infancy from a quite independent cause, namely as
the first step in the protection of the eyes during screaming.
There is, indeed, much analogy, as far as the state
of the mind is concerned, between intently scrutinizing
a distant object, and following out an obscure train of thought,
or performing some little and troublesome mechanical work.
The belief that the habit of contracting the brows is continued
when there is no need whatever to exclude too much light,
receives support from the cases formerly alluded to,
in which the eyebrows or eyelids are acted on under certain
circumstances in a useless manner, from having been similarly used,
under analogous circumstances, for a serviceable purpose.
For instance, we voluntarily close our eyes when we do not
wish to see any object, and we are apt to close them, when we
reject a proposition, as if we could not or would not see it;
or when we think about something horrible. We raise our
eyebrows when we wish to see quickly all round us, and we often
do the same, when we earnestly desire to remember something;
acting as if we endeavoured to see it.


[5] `De la Physionomie,' pp. 15, 144, 146. Mr. Herbert Spencer
accounts for frowning exclusively by the habit of contracting
the brows as a shade to the eyes in a bright light:
see `Principles of Physiology,' 2nd edit. 1872, p. 546.

_Abstraction. Meditation_.--When a person is lost in thought
with his mind absent, or, as it is sometimes said, "when he is
in a brown study," he does not frown, but his eyes appear vacant.
The lower eyelids are generally raised and wrinkled, in the same manner
as when a short-sighted person tries to distinguish a distant object;
and the upper orbicular muscles are at the same time slightly contracted.
The wrinkling of the lower eyelids under these circumstances has been
observed with some savages, as by Mr. Dyson Lacy with the Australians
of Queensland, and several times by Mr. Geach with the Malays of the
interior of Malacca. What the meaning or cause of this action may be,
cannot at present be explained; but here we have another instance
of movement round the eyes in relation to the state of the mind.

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