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CHAPTER V.
OF OLD AGE AND DEATH.
Every object in Nature has its improvement and its decay. No sooner does the human form arrive at its limited perfection, than it begins to decline. The alteration is at first insensible, and even several years elapse before it becomes perceptible. Yet we ought to feel the weight of our years better than other people can estimate the number of them; and, as those are rarely deceived who judge of our age from external appearances, we would be still less so, as to the internal effect, if we did but observe ourselves more, and flatter ourselves less with false and idle hopes.
When the body has attained its full length, by the final expansion of all its parts, it begins to receive an additional bulk, which rather incommodes than assists it, and may be considered as the first step towards decay. This is formed from a superfluous substance termed fat, and generally appears about the age of thirty-five, or forty, and by which, in proportion to its encrease, the body becomes less nimble, active, and unconstrained in its motions.
The bones also, and the other solid parts of the body, encrease in solidity. The membranes become cartilaginous, or gristly, the cartilages become bony, the fibres become more hard, the skin dries up, wrinkles are gradually formed in it, the hair grows grey, the teeth fall out, the visage becomes haggard, and the body stoops. The first approach of these alterations is perceived before the age of forty; by slow degrees they advance till that of sixty, and by rapid ones till that of seventy: after which period, decrepitude soon follows, and continues to augment to the age of ninety, or a hundred, when the life of man is generally terminated.
Having already traced the causes of the formation, growth, and expansion of the humanframe, we shall now proceed to consider those of its decay.
At first the bones of the fœtus are only small threads, of a ductile matter, and of little more substance than the flesh; by degrees they acquire solidity, and may be considered as a kind of small tubes, lined both within and without by a thin membrane which supplies the osseous matter. A pretty exact idea might be formed of the growth of bones, by comparing them with the manner in which the wood and solid parts of vegetables are produced. These bones, or, as we have said, tubes, are covered at both ends by a soft substance, and in proportion as they receive nutritious juices, the extremities extend from the middle point which always preserves its original station. The ossification begins at the middle and gradually follows the extension until the whole is converted into bone. Having acquired their full growth, and the nutritious juices no longer being necessary for their augmentation, they serve the purpose of increasing their solidity; in time the bones become so solid as not to admit the circulation of these juices which are highly essential to their nourishment; and this being stopped, they undergo a change like that perceived in old trees;and this change is the first cause that renders the decay of the human body inevitable.
The cartilages, which may be considered as soft and imperfect bones, grow also more rigid as we increase in years; and as they are generally placed near the joints, the motion of these must of consequence become more difficult. Thus, in old age, every action of the body is performed with labour; and the cartilages, which in youth were elastic, and in manhood pliant, will now sooner break than bend, and may be considered as the second cause of our dissolution.
The membranes become likewise as we grow old more dense and more dry. Those, for example, which surround the bones cease to be ductile, and are incapable of extension so early as the age of 18 or 20. It is also the same with the muscular fibres, and though to the external touch the body seems, as we advance in years, to grow more soft, yet in reality it is increasing in hardness. On such occasions it is the skin, and not the flesh, that communicates this perception. The fat which increases when the body is arrived at maturity, being interspersed between the skin and muscles, gives an appearance of softness which the fleshis far from possessing in reality; an undeniable proof of which is to be found in comparing the flesh of young and old animals; the former is tender and delicate; the latter hard, dry, and unfit for eating.
While the body increases, the skin will stretch to any degree of tension; but when the former diminishes, the latter never contracts; and hence the source of wrinkles, which cannot be prevented. Those of the face proceed from this cause, though as to shape they depend in a greater measure on its form, features, and habitual movements. By examining the countenance of a man at the age of 25 or 30, we may discover in it the origin of all the wrinkles it will have in old age; particularly when the features are in a state of agitation by laughing, weepings or any strong grimace. All the little furrows formed by these agitations will one day become wrinkles, which no art shall be able to remove.
In proportion then as we advance in years, the bones, the cartilages, the membranes, the flesh, the skin, and all the fibres of the body grow more solid, hard, and dry. Every part shrinks, and every motion becomes more slow; the circulation of the fluids is performedwith less freedom, the perspiration diminishes, the secretions alter, the digestion becomes slow and laborious, the nutritive juices become less plentiful, and no longer serving to convey their accustomed nourishment, are wholly useless, as if they did not exist. Thus the body dies by little and little, all its functions diminish by degrees, and death only at last seizes upon that little which is left.
As the bones, the cartilages, the muscles, and all the other parts of the body, are naturally softer in women than in men, they do not acquire so soon that hardness which hastens death. Women, therefore, ought to live longer than men. This is actually the case; for by consulting the tables which have been formed respecting the duration of human life, we shall find that, after a certain age, women have a greater chance for long life than men of the same number of years. From this it may also be inferred, that such men as are weak in appearance, and whose constitution rather resembles that of women, have a probability of living longer than those who seem to be more strong and robust; as likewise, that in either sex such persons as have been slow in their advances to maturity, will be slow in their advancesto the infirmities of old age, because in both cases, the bones, the cartilages, and all the fibres, require a longer time to arrive at that degree of solidity, which must be the foundation of their destruction. This natural cause of death is common to all animals, and even to vegetables. An oak only perishes because its more ancient parts, which are in the centre, become so hard and so compact, that they can no longer receive any nourishment; and the moisture they contain, being deprived of circulation, becomes corrupted, and gradually alters the fibres of the wood, which become red, and at length crumble into dust.
The duration of life may be determined, in some measure, by the time that was employed in the attainment of maturity. A tree, or an animal, which takes but a short time to finish its growth, perishes much sooner than those which are longer in coming to maturity. Neither animals nor plants begin to spread in bulk till they have acquired their summit of height. Man grows in stature till the age of 17 or 18; but his body is not completely unfolded in all its parts till that of 30; while a dog is at its full length in one year, and at itsfull thickness in another. The man whose growth is so tedious, lives for 90 or an 100 years; whereas the dog seldom survives its 10 or 12th year. To the generality of other animals this observation is equally applicable. Fishes, whose growth continues for a number of years, live for centuries; and this from no other known certain cause, but the particular constitution of their bones, which do not admit of the same solidity as the bones of terrestrial animals.
Whether there are any exceptions to this kind of rule, which Nature seems to have adopted in proportioning the duration of life to that of the bodily growth, we shall enquire when we come to the particular history of animals, as also whether crows and stags live for such a number of years as is commonly pretended. In the mean while, as a general truth, let it be remarked, that large animals live longer than small ones, and this because they require a longer time to come to maturity.
The causes of our decay then are inevitable; nor can we avoid the fatal arrow of death, or even avert it, without changing the laws of Nature. The ideas which a fewvisionaries have formed of perpetuating life by some particular panacea, as that of the transfusion of the blood of one living creature into the body of another, must have died with themselves, did not self-love constantly cherish our credulity, even to the persuasion of some things which are in themselves impossible, and to the doubt of others, of which every day there are demonstrative proofs.
When the constitution of the body is sound, it is perhaps possible, by moderation in the passions, by temperance and sobriety, to lengthen life for a few years. But even of this there seems to be an uncertainty, for if it is necessary that the body should employ its whole strength, that it should consume all its powers by labour and exercise, whence could any benefit accrue from regimen and abstinence? Men no doubt there are who have surpassed the usual period of human existence, and not to mention Par, who lived to the age of 144, and Jenkins to that of 165, as recorded in the Philosophical Transactions, we have many instances of the prolongation of life to 110, and even to 120 years; yet this longevity was occasioned by no peculiar art or management; on the contrary, it appears that the generalityof them were peasants, huntsmen, or labourers, men who had employed their whole bodily strength, and even abused it, if to abuse it is possible, otherwise than by continual idleness and debauchery.
Besides, if we reflect that the European, the Negro, the Chinese, and the American, the civilized man and the savage, the rich and the poor, the inhabitant of the city, and the inhabitant of the country, however different in other respects, are yet entirely similar as to the period allotted for their existence; if we reflect that the difference of race, of climate, of nourishment of accommodation, makes no difference in the term of life; that men who feed on raw flesh, or on dried fish, on sago, or on rice, on cassava, or on roots, live as long as those who feed on bread and prepared meats, we must be still more strongly convinced that the duration of life depends not either on habits, customs, or on the qualities of particular food, and that nothing can change the laws of that mechanism, by which the number of our years are regulated, but excesses of luxury or intemperance.
If in the duration of life there is any difference, it ought seemingly to be ascribed tothe quality of the air. In elevated countries there are commonly found more old people than in low. The mountains in Scotland and Wales, of Auvergne and Switzerland, have furnished more instances of extreme longevity than the plains of Holland, Flanders, Germany, or Poland. In general, however, the period of human existence may be said to be the same in every country. If not cut off by accidental diseases man is found to live to the years of 90 or an 100. Beyond that date our ancestors did not live, nor has it, in any degree varied since the time of David.
Should it be asked, why, in the early ages, men lived to 900, 930, and even 960 years? it may, with great probability of reason, be answered, that the productions of the earth might then be of a different nature; as, at the creation, the surface of the globe must have been far less solid and compact than it afterwards became, so it is possible that the productions of Nature, and even the human body itself, being more ductile and more susceptible of extension, their growth was not so soon accomplished as at present. Every kind of nourishment being in itself more soft and moreductile, the bones, the muscles, &c. necessarily retained their primitive softness and ductility longer. As the body, therefore, did not attain its complete expansion, nor its generative powers, for 120 or 130 years, the duration of life would be proportioned to that time, required for the growth, as it is to this day. In the supposition, for example, that the age of puberty was originally at the years of 130, as it is now at the age of 14, it will appear, that the period of human existence has always been proportionally the same as it is at present, since by multiplying those two numbers by seven, for instance, we shall find that the age of the present race will be 98 years, as those in the first age 910. It is probable, then, that the duration of human life decreased in proportion as the solidity of the surface of the earth increased, and that the ages from the creation, to the time of David, having been sufficient to communicate to terrestrial substances all the consistency which they are capable of acquiring by the pression of gravity, the surface of the earth has ever since remained in the same condition, and the limits of the growth of its different productions have been fixed, as well as those of the duration of life.
Independent of accidental maladies which happen at every age, but become more dangerous and more frequent at the latter periods of life, all men are subject to natural infirmities, that originate solely from a decay of the different parts of the body. The muscular powers lose their firmness, the head shakes, the hands tremble, the legs totter, and the sensibility of the nerves decreasing, every sense becomes blunted. But the most striking infirmity is, that men very aged, are unequal to the office of generation. Of this inability two causes may be assigned, a defect of tension in the external organs, and a decay of the seminal fluid.[B]The latter defect, however, may be supplied by a young woman; and thus it is that we sometimes see men at an advanced period of life become fathers, but then they have a much less share in their children than young ones; and thence it happens, that young persons, when married to old men, decrepidand deformed, often bring forth monsters, and children more defective still than their fathers.
[B]Our author here enters into a repetition of the nature of the organic animalcules, and to account for the defect of tension in the external organs, but which we have passed over, not doubting our readers would feel the propriety of his concluding remark, that this was an improper place for such discussions.
[B]Our author here enters into a repetition of the nature of the organic animalcules, and to account for the defect of tension in the external organs, but which we have passed over, not doubting our readers would feel the propriety of his concluding remark, that this was an improper place for such discussions.
The scurvy, dropsy, and such diseases as proceed from a vitiated state of the blood and other fluids, are the most fatal to mankind; but these fluids depend upon the solids, which are the real organic parts. As we become advanced in life the vessels contract, the muscles lose their strength, and the secretory organs are obstructed; from which causes the blood, and other fluids, become viscid, and occasion those diseases which are generally supposed to arise from vitiated humours. The natural decay of the solids are, therefore, the original causes of those disorders; nevertheless, if the fluids become stagnated, or are obstructed in their circulation, by a contraction of the vessels, they produce alarming symptoms, and soon corrupt and corrode the weakest parts of the solids. Thus do the causes of dissolution continually multiply until they put a period to our existence.
All these causes of decay act continually upon our material existence, and contribute to its dissolution. Nature, however, approaches to this much-dreaded period by slow and imperceptibledegrees. Day after day is life consuming, and every hour is some one or other of our faculties, or vital principles, perishing before the rest. Death, therefore, is only the last shade in the picture; and it is probable that man suffers a greater change in passing from youth to age, than from age into the grave. In the instant of the formation of the fœtus life is as yet nothing, or next to nothing. It extends and acquires consistence and force as the body increases, and as soon as the latter begins to decrease the former decreases also, till its final extinction. As our life begins by degrees, so by degrees it is terminated.
Why, then, be afraid of death, if our lives have been such as not to make us apprehend the consequences of futurity? Why be afraid of that moment which is preceded by an infinity of others of the same kind? Death is as natural as life, and both happen to us in the same manner, without our having the smallest sense or perception of them. If we enquire of those whose office it is to attend the sick and the dying, we shall find, that, except in a very few acute cases, attended with convulsions, people expire quietly, and without the smallest indication of pain. Even when dreadful agoniesseem so attend the afflicted, the spectators are rather terrified than the patients tormented; who, having recovered, after the most violent convulsions, possess not the smallest idea of what had passed, or even what they had suffered.
The greatest number of mankind die, therefore, without feeling the fatal stroke; and of the few who retain their senses to the last, there is hardly one, perhaps, who does not entertain the hope of recovery. Nature, for the happiness of man, has rendered this principle more powerful than reason. A person dying of a disorder which he already knows to be incurable, by repeated instances in others, and is now assured that it is so by the tears of his friends, and by the countenance or departure of the physician, is still buoyed up with the idea of getting over it; the opinion of others he considers as a groundless alarm; the hour of dissolution comes; and while every thing else is, as it were dead, hope is still alive and vigorous.
A sick man will say that he feels himself dying; that he is convinced he cannot recover; but if any person, from zeal, or indiscretion, shall tell him that his end is actually at hand, his countenance instantly changes, and betraysall the marks of surprize and uneasiness. He now seems not to believe, what he had been endeavouring to impress upon others; he had only some doubt, some uneasiness, about his situation; but his hopes were far greater than his fears; and but for the gloomy assiduity, the parade of woe, which generally surrounds a death-bed, and too often embitters the last moments, he would be insensible of his approaching dissolution.
By no means is death so dreadful, therefore, as we suppose it to be. It is a spectre which terrifies us at a distance, but disappears when we approach it more closely. Our conceptions of it are formed by prejudice, and dressed up by fancy. We consider it not only as a misfortune greater than any other, but as one accompanied by the most excruciating anguish. Death, it is said, must be terrible, since it is sufficient to separate the soul from the body; the pain must also be of considerable duration, since time is measured by the succession of our ideas; one minute of pain, in which these ideas succeed each other with a rapidity proportioned to the agony we suffer, must appear longer than a whole age, in which they flow in their usual gentleness and tranquillity. In suchphilosophy, what an abuse of reason! But for the consequences of it, hardly would it deserve to have its futility exposed. As by such arguments, however, weak minds are deceived, and the aspect of death rendered a thousand times more hideous than it possibly can be; to point out the erroneous principles may be of advantage.
When the soul is originally united to our body, do we experience any extraordinary joy, which delights and transports us? Most certainly not. What reason then can we have to suppose that the separation of the soul from that body may not be effected without pain? From what cause should such pain arise? Shall we fix its residence in the soul, or in the body? Pain of the mind can only be produced by thought, and that of the body is proportioned to its strength or weakness. In the instant of death, the body must be in its weakest state, and therefore if it does experience pain, it must be in a very trifling degree.
Let us now suppose a violent death; that for example, of a man whose head is carried off by a cannon-ball. Can the pain he suffers last longer than a moment? Has he, in the interval of that moment, a succession of ideas so rapid,that he can imagine the pangs he feels are equal to an hour, a day, an age? These points we shall endeavour to discuss.
I own the succession of our ideas is, in reality, the only natural measure of time; and that, in proportion as they flow with more or less uniformity, they appear of longer or shorter duration. But in this measure there is an unit, or fixed point, which is neither arbitrary nor indefinite, but determined by Nature, and correspondent to our organization. Between two ideas which succeed each other, there must be an interval that separates them; however quick one thought may be, a little time is required before it can be followed by another, no succession being possible in an indivisible instant. The same observation holds with respect to the sensations of the body. A transition from pain to pleasure, or even from one pain to another, requires a certain interval. This interval, by which our thoughts and sensations are necessarily separated, is the unit I mention; and it can neither be extremely long, nor extremely short; it must even be nearly upon an equality in its duration, as it depends upon the nature of the mind, and the organization of the body, whose movements can have but one certaindegree of celerity. In the same individual, therefore, there can be no succession of ideas so rapid, or so slow, as to produce that enormous difference of duration, by which the pain of a minute is converted into that of an hour, a day, or a century.
A very acute pain, of however short continuance, tends to produce either a swoon, or death. As our organs have only a certain degree of strength, they cannot resist above a certain degree of pain. If that becomes excessive, it ceases, because the body being incapable of supporting it, is still less capable to transmit it to the mind, with which it can hold no correspondence, but by the action of these organs. Here this action ceases, and therefore, all internal sensation must necessarily cease also.
What has already been advanced, is perhaps amply sufficient to evince, that, at the instant of death, the pain is neither excessive nor of long duration; but in order to dispel all fear from the bosom of timidity itself, we shall add a few words more upon the subject. Though excessive pains admit of no reflection, yet signs, at least, of it have been observed in the very moment of a violent death. WhenCharles XII. received, at Frederickshall, the blow which terminated his exploits and existence, he clapped his hand upon his sword. Since it excluded not reflection, this mortal pang could not, therefore, be excessive. The brave warrior found himself attacked; he reflected that he ought to defend himself; and thence, it is evident, he felt no more than what he might have suffered from an ordinary blow. That this action was nothing more than the result of a mechanical impulse it would be absurd to assert, as it has been evidently shewn, in our description of man, that the most precipitate movements of the passions depend upon reflection, and are nothing more than effects of an habitual exertion of the mind.
If I have rather enlarged on this topic it is only that I might destroy a prejudice so repugnant to the happiness of man. To this prejudice many have fallen victims; and I have myself known several, of the female sex in particular, who, from the very dread of death, have died in reality. Such terrible alarms seem, indeed, to be particular to those whom Nature or education have endowed with superior sensibility, as the gross of mankind lookforward to death, if not with indifference at least without terror.
In viewing things as they are consists the spirit of true philosophy. With this philosophy our internal sensations would always correspond, were they not perverted by the illusions of imagination, and by the unfortunate habit of fabricating phantoms of excessive pains and of pleasure. Nothing appears terrible nor charming but what is at distance. To obtain a certain knowledge of either we must have the resolution, or the wisdom, to take a close and particular view of them, and all their extraordinary circumstances will disappear.
If there be any thing necessary to confirm what has been said concerning the gradual cessation of life, we might find it in the uncertainty of the signs of death. By consulting the writers on this subject, and particularly Winslow and Bruhier, we shall be convinced, that between life and death the shade is often so undistinguishable that all the powers of medical art are insufficient to determine upon it. According to them, “the colour of the face, the warmth of the body, the suppleness of the joints, are but equivocal signs of life; andthat the paleness of the complexion, the coldness of the body, the stiffness of the extremities, the cessation of all motion, and the total insensibility of the parts, are signs to the full as equivocal of death.” It is also the same with regard to the cessation of the pulse, and of respiration, which are sometimes so effectually kept under, that it is impossible to obtain the smallest perception of either. By carrying a mirror, or candle, to the mouth of a person supposed to be dead, people expect to find whether he breathes or not; but in this experiment there is little certainty; the mirror is often sullied after death has taken place, and remains unclouded while the person is still alive. Neither do burning nor scarifying, noises in the ears, nor pungent spirits applied to the nostrils, give indubitable proofs of the discontinuance of life; many are the instances of persons who have undergone all such trials without shewing any signs of life, and yet, to the astonishment of the spectators, recovered afterwards, without the smallest assistance.
Nothing can be more evident than that life, in some cases, has a near resemblance to death, and therefore that we ought to be extremely cautious of renouncing, and committing too hastily to the grave, the bodies of our fellow-creatures.Neither ten, twenty, nor twenty-four hours are sufficient to distinguish real from apparent death; and there are instances of persons who have been alive in the grave at the end of the second, and even the third day. Why suffer to be interred with precipitation those persons whose lives we ardently wished to prolong? Why, though all men are equally interested in the abolition of it, does the practice still subsist? On the authority of the most able physicians, it incontestably appears, “that the body, though living, is sometimes so far deprived of all vital function, as to have every external appearance of death; that, if in the space of three days, or seventy two hours, no sign of life appears, and on the contrary the body exhales a cadaverous smell, there is an infallible proof of actual death; and that then, though on no account till then, the interment can with safety take place.”
Hereafter we shall have occasion to speak of the usages of different nations with respect to obsequies, interments, and embalments. The greatest part, even of the most savage people, pay more attention than we to their deceased friends. What with us is nothing more than a ceremony, they consider as an essential duty. Far superior is the respect which they pay totheir dead: they clothe them, they speak to them, they recite their exploits, they extol their virtues; while we, who pique ourselves on our sensibility, with hardly an appearance of humanity, forsake and fly from them, we neither desire to see, nor have courage nor inclination to speak to them, and even avoid every place which may recall their idea to our minds. Than savages themselves, then, do we, in this respect, discover either more indifference or more weakness.
Having thus given a history of life, and of death, as they relate to the individual, let us now consider them both, as they affect the whole species. Man dies at every age; and though in general the duration of his life is longer than that of most animals, yet it is more uncertain and more variable.
Of late years attempts have been made to ascertain the degrees of such variations, and to establish, by different observations, some certainty as to the mortality of men at different ages. Were such observations sufficiently exact and numerous they would be admirably calculated to give a knowledge of the number of people, their increase, the consumption of provisions, and of a number of other importantobjects. Many writers of distinguished abilities, and, among others, Halley and Simpson, have given tables of the mortality of the human species; but as their labours have been confined to an examination of the bills of mortality in a few parishes of London, and other large cities, their researches, however accurate, seem, in my opinion, to give a very imperfect idea of the mortality of mankind in general.
In order to give a complete table of this nature it is necessary to scrutinise not only the parish-registers of such towns as London and Paris, where there is a perpetual ingress of strangers and egress of natives, but also those of different country places; that, by comparing the deaths which happen in the one with the deaths which happen in the other, a general conclusion may be formed. M. Dupré, of St. Maur, a member of the French academy, executed this project upon twelve different parishes in the country of France, and, three in Paris. Having obtained his permission to publish the tables he has drawn up on this occasion, I do it with the greater pleasure, as they are the only ones from which the probabilities of human life in general can with any certainty be established.
YEARS OF LIFE.
Division of 10805 deaths into the years they happened
Deaths before the end of the 1st, 2d, 3d, &c. years.
Number of persons entered into their 1st, 2d, 3d, &c. years.
Division of the 13189 deaths into the years they happened.>
Deaths before the end of the 1st, 2d, 3d, &c. years.
Number of persons who entered into the 1st, 2d, &c. years.
Division of the 23994 deaths in the 3 parishes of Paris and the 12 villages.
Deaths before the end of the 1st, 2d, years, &c. out of the 23994
Number of persons entered into their 1st and 2d years, &c.
YEARS OF LIFE.
YEARS OF LIFE.
YEARS OF LIFE.
YEARS OF LIFE.
YEARS OF LIFE.
YEARS OF LIFE.