FOOTNOTES:

FOOTNOTES:[6]It is rather to the external forms that symmetry appears to have been primitively attached, and it is in some measure accidentally and because the nature of their functions requires in general that they should be placed on the exterior, that the organs of relation are found modified in virtue of this law. In the example cited, of fishes without a bladder, the eyes, to lose nothing of their utility, must be differently placed, and on the face, which alone is in relation with the light; yet even in this case, the symmetry of external forms has been displaced rather than destroyed, and at the first examination it seems complete. When the organs of relation are found placed on the interior, they frequently exhibit some irregularity, and to take an example of a known animal, the organ of voice, in the male duck, is a very remarkable one; in man even, the wind-pipe is not symmetrical, after it arrives at the first division of the bronchia. On the contrary, among the organs of the other life, those which are prominent on the exterior, constantly present the symmetrical character, as the thyroid gland; the mammary glands, &c.[7]If we deny symmetry to the kidneys, because they are not uniformly composed of the same number of lobes in children, we must deny it also to the brain, the two lobes of which never exhibit the same arrangement in their circumvolutions; if we deny it to the salivary glands, because one is larger than the other, we must deny it to the extremities, because the right is usually more developed than the left. If these examples are not enough, a host of others might be cited; such as, the atrabiliary capsules, the bladder, the different organs of generation and lactation, and the very regular arrangement of the mucous follicles in certain parts situated upon the median line, &c. As to the anomalies that are observed in the distribution of the blood-vessels, they are also observed very frequently, though in a less evident manner, in the distribution of the nervous branches.

[6]It is rather to the external forms that symmetry appears to have been primitively attached, and it is in some measure accidentally and because the nature of their functions requires in general that they should be placed on the exterior, that the organs of relation are found modified in virtue of this law. In the example cited, of fishes without a bladder, the eyes, to lose nothing of their utility, must be differently placed, and on the face, which alone is in relation with the light; yet even in this case, the symmetry of external forms has been displaced rather than destroyed, and at the first examination it seems complete. When the organs of relation are found placed on the interior, they frequently exhibit some irregularity, and to take an example of a known animal, the organ of voice, in the male duck, is a very remarkable one; in man even, the wind-pipe is not symmetrical, after it arrives at the first division of the bronchia. On the contrary, among the organs of the other life, those which are prominent on the exterior, constantly present the symmetrical character, as the thyroid gland; the mammary glands, &c.

[7]If we deny symmetry to the kidneys, because they are not uniformly composed of the same number of lobes in children, we must deny it also to the brain, the two lobes of which never exhibit the same arrangement in their circumvolutions; if we deny it to the salivary glands, because one is larger than the other, we must deny it to the extremities, because the right is usually more developed than the left. If these examples are not enough, a host of others might be cited; such as, the atrabiliary capsules, the bladder, the different organs of generation and lactation, and the very regular arrangement of the mucous follicles in certain parts situated upon the median line, &c. As to the anomalies that are observed in the distribution of the blood-vessels, they are also observed very frequently, though in a less evident manner, in the distribution of the nervous branches.

Harmony is to the functions of the organs, what symmetry is to their conformation; it supposes a perfect equality of force and action, between their similar parts, just as symmetry indicates an exact analogy of external form, and internal structure: indeed it is a necessary consequence of symmetry, for two parts essentially alike in structure, cannot much differ in their manner of action. Hence we should be naturally led to the following conclusion, namely, that harmony is the character of the animal, discordance that of the organic functions. But on these points we must be more particular.

We have already observed, that the animal life arises from the successive actions of the senses, the nerves, the brain, the locomotive organs, and the voice. We shall now consider what harmony of action is, in each of these great divisions.

The precision of our sensations appears to be the more complete in proportion as there exists a resemblance between the two impressions, of which they are each of them the assemblage. We see inaccurately when one of the eyes is better formed, and stronger than the other; when it conveys to the brain a clearer image than its fellow does. It is to avoid this confusion that we shut one eye, while the action of the other is increased by theapplication of a lens, for at such time there can be no harmony of action in the two organs; accordingly, we make use of one of them only in order to avoid the discordance of the impression.—What a lens applied to one eye only produces artificially, is exemplified in a natural way by squinting.—We squint, says Buffon, because we turn the weaker eye from the object on which the stronger is fixed; for in so doing we avoid the confusion, which would arise from the perception of two dissimilar images.

We know that many other causes may contribute to the production of this effect, but we cannot doubt the reality of the reason assigned. We know also, that in some animals each eye may act without the assistance of the other, and that two different objects may be transmitted at the same time by the two eyes of certain other animals; but this circumstance, when the action of both the organs is united upon a single object, should by no means prevent a similarity in the two impressions. A single sensation is the consequence of the combination; but in what way can such sensation be formed with accuracy, if the same body at the same time be pictured both in strong and weak colours on the one and the other of the retinæ?

What we have said of the eye may be equally well applied to the ear. If, of the two sensations which form a sound, the one be received by a strong and well formed organ, the other by a weak one, the impressions will be unequal; the brain also, because it is differently affected by each, will be the seat of an imperfect perception. Such conformation constitutes what is called an incorrect or false ear. For what reason does it happen that one man is unpleasantly affected by a dissonance, while another does not even perceive it? The reason is this,that in the one, the two perceptions of the same sound are identical; in the other, dissimilar.[8]For the same reason a man with a correct ear will combine his dancing with the cadence of the measure given him; another without this similarity of organ will be as constantly at variance in his motions with the orchestra.

Buffon has confined his observations on harmony of action, to the organs of vision and hearing; we shall push our examination of it farther.

In the sense of smelling, as well as in the other senses, we must admit of two impressions; the one primitive, and belonging to the organ, the other consecutive, and affecting the sensorium: now the latter may vary, the former remaining unaltered. Many odours are disagreeable to some, but pleasant to others; and this, not because there is any difference in the affection of the pituitary membrane, but because in different individuals, the mind may attach a very different sentiment to the same impression.—Hence a variety of results does not in this case suppose a difference of principle.

But sometimes the impression which is made upon the pituitary membrane does really differ from that which it ought to be, for producing perfect sensation. Two dogs pursue the same game; the one never loses scent, but makes the same turnings and windings with the animalbefore him; the other follows his game also, but often stops and hesitates, endeavors to recover the scent, proceeds and stops again. The first of these receives a lively impression of the scented emanation; the organs of the second are only confusedly affected. Now it may be asked whether this confusion does not arise from the unequal action of the two nostrils, from the superior organization of the one, and from the imperfection of the other?—the following observations appear to decide the question.

In the coryza, which affects but one of the nostrils, if the two be suffered to remain open, the sense of smelling is confused; but let the diseased nostril be shut, and the smell shall immediately become distinct. A polypus in one of the nostrils debilitates the action of the pituitary membrane on the affected side, the other remaining in its healthy state: hence, as in the preceding case, ensues a want of harmony in the two organs, and the same confusion in the perception of odours. The greater number of the affections of a single nostril have similar effects, which may be all of them corrected by the same means. And wherefore? because in rendering one of the pituitary membranes inactive, we put a stop to the discordance which is occasioned by the deficiency of action in the other. From the above facts (since any accidental cause, which destroys the harmony of action in these organs, is capable of rendering the perception of odours inexact) we may conclude, that when the perception is naturally inaccurate, there is a natural dissimilarity in the formation of the organs, and therefore a difference of power in them.

The same reasoning may be applied to the sense of taste. It is often the case that one side of the tongue is affected by palsy or spasm, the median line dividing theinsensible half from the other, which continues to preserve its sensibility. But such affection may take place in a variety of degrees, and one side of the tongue retain a power of perceiving savours though in a less perfection than the other side. In such case it is natural to suppose that the taste must be confused; because a clear perception cannot be the consequence of two unequal sensations.

The perfection of the touch as well as that of the other senses, is essentially connected with uniformity of action in the two symmetrical halves of the body, and particularly in the hands. Let us suppose, for instance, a man born blind, to have one hand well organized, the other defective in the power of moving the thumb and fingers, and forming only a stiff and immovable surface; such person would find it a very difficult thing to acquire a just notion of the size and figure of bodies, because the same sensation would not arise from the successive application of each hand to the same substance. Let both of his hands, for example, be supposed to touch a small sphere; the one by the extremities of the fingers will embrace it in all its diameters, and convey to him the idea of roundness; the other, which will be in contact with it only in a few points, will produce a very different sensation. Embarrassed between these two bases of his judgment, he will scarcely be able to decide, nay, it is even possible that he may form a double judgment from the double sensation which is presented him: his ideas would be more correct were he to use only the perfect hand, in the same manner as the person who squints, makes use of the perfect eye only. Our hands then assist each other reciprocally; the one confirms the notions which are given us by the other; hence the necessary uniformity of their conformation.

The hands are not the only instruments of the sense of touch. The axilla, the groin, the concavity of the foot and many other parts, may all of them from their application to bodies, afford us so many bases for our judgments with regard to external form. Now, if one half of the body were differently arranged from the other half, the same uncertainty in perception would infallibly be the result. From all that has been said, we may conclude, that in the external organs of sense, a harmony of action in the two symmetrical parts, or the two similar halves of the organ, is a condition essential to the perfection of sensation.

The external senses are the natural excitants of the brain. The functions of the brain succeed to theirs, and this organ would but languish, were it not to find in them the principle of its activity. From sensation follow perception, memory and imagination; from these the judgment. Now it is easy to prove, that these different functions, commonly known by the name of the internal senses,[9]are governed in their actions by the same laws, which influence the external senses; and that like them, they approach the nearer to perfection in proportion to the degree of harmony existing in the symmetrical parts, in which they have their seat.

Let us suppose for instance one hemisphere of the brain to be better organised, and therefore susceptible of livelier affections than its fellow; in such case the perception of the individual would be confused, for the brain is to the soul what the senses are to the brain; it transmitsto the soul the impressions conveyed to it by the senses, as the senses convey to the brain the impressions made upon them by external objects. But, if the defect of harmony in the external senses confuse the perception of the brain, why may not the soul perceive but confusedly, when the two hemispheres of the brain are unequal in power, and incapable of blending into one the double impression, which is made upon them?

The memory is the faculty of re-producing former sensations, the imagination that of creating new ones, now in the act of remembering or imagining, each hemisphere of the brain appears to re-produce, or to create a sensation of its own. If both do not act alike, the perception of the mind, which ought to be the result of the two sensations united, will be inexact and irregular. But, it is evident, that there will be a disparity in the two sensations, if there be a disparity in the two halves of the brain, in which they have arisen, and since the general foundations of the judgment are made up of the faculties of perception, memory, and imagination, if these be confused, the judgment itself must be confused also.

We have now supposed an inequality of action in the hemispheres of the brain, and inferred, that the functions would in this supposition be imperfect; but what as yet is only supposition, in a variety of instances can be proved to be a fact; for nothing is more common than to find in consequence of compression on either hemisphere by blood, pus, or exostosis, a variety of alterations in the intellectual functions.

Even when all appearances of actual compression have vanished, if in consequence of that which has been experienced, a part of the brain remain enfeebled, the same alterations of mental power will be found to be prolonged. If both hemispheres of the brain, however,be affected equally, the judgment though weaker, will be more exact.[10]Perhaps it is thus, that we should explain those observations so frequently repeated, of an accidental stroke upon one side of the head having restored the intellectual functions, which had long remained dormant in consequence of a blow received upon the other side.

I now conceive myself to have proved, that with inequality of action in the hemispheres, there must be confusion of intellect. I have also pointed out some states of disease, in which such confusion is evidently the effect of inequality of action so occasioned; here we see the effect and its cause; but may we not from analogy, infer a similar cause where we see a like effect? when the judgment is habitually incorrect, and all the ideas wanting in precision, may we not be induced to believe, that there does exist a defect of harmony in the action of the two hemispheres of the brain? We see inaccurately if nature have not given to both eyes an equal power; we perceive and judge inaccurately in like manner, if the two sides of the brain are naturally dissimilar. The most correct mind, and the soundest judgment, pre-suppose in the hemispheres a perfect harmony of action; and what a multiplicity of shades do we not behold in the operations of the understanding? it is probable that they all of them correspond to so many varieties in the proportions of power in the hemispheres. Could we squint with the brain as we do with the eyes—that is to say, could wereceive impressions on one hemisphere only, and form from thence our determinations, we might then command at will, a precision in our intellectual operations; but such a power does not exist.

To the functions of the brain succeed those of locomotion and the voice. The first of these would appear almost to form an exception to the general law. In considering the two vertical halves of the body, we shall perceive that the one is constantly more powerful than the other with respect to the strength and number of its movements. The right half is that, which from custom, is most made use of.

To comprehend the reason of this difference; we must make a difference between strength and agility; strength depends upon the perfection of the organization, on the energy of the nutritive process, on the plenitude of life in the muscular fibre; agility, on the contrary, is the result of habit and frequent exercise.[11]

At present we shall observe, that this disparity of action in the locomotive organs, does not consist in the difference of their actual strength, but in that of the agility, with which these motions are executed.—All is equal in the size, in the number of fibres, and nerves both of the one and the other of the superior, or inferior extremities; the difference of their vascular systems is scarcely any thing. From hence it follows that the discordance does not exist in nature, but that it is the effect of our social habits, which by multiplying our movements on one side of the body, increase their address without much adding to their power. Such in fact are the wants of society, as to call forth a certain number of general movements, which must be performed by all in the same direction, in order to be understood. It is generally agreed, that this direction shall be fromleft to right. The letters, which form the writing of most nations, are in this way directed; such circumstance occasions the necessity of our using the right hand to form them in preference to the left, the former being as much better adapted to this method, as the latter would be to the contrary one; of this we may convince ourselves by experiment.

The direction of the letters from left to right, imposes on us the necessity also of casting our eyes upon them in the same direction. From this habit acquired in reading, arises that of examining objects in the same manner.

The necessity of similar movements when men are drawn up in line of battle, has induced almost all nations to handle their weapons with their right hands; the harmony too which prevails in the dances of even the most savage people exacts an accord in the limbs, which they constantly preserve by making all their principal movements with the right. We might add to these examples a great variety of others.

The general movements agreed on by society, which, if every one were not to execute them in the same direction, would be creative of much confusion; these movements, I say, by the influence of habit, oblige us for our own particular movements to use the limbs, which they have brought into action. Hence, the members of the right side of the body are perpetually in action either for our own particular wants, or for those which we feel in conjunction with others.

Now, as the habitude of acting, continually tends to the perfection of action, we may perceive the reason, why the right side acquires a greater facility in the performance of many motions than the left. This increased facility is not original, but acquired.

So remarkable a difference then, in the two symmetrical halves of the body, is not by nature meant as an exception to the general law of harmony of action in the external functions; for those movements, which are executed by the whole of the body, are the more precise in proportion to the smallness of the difference existing in the agility of the muscles of the two sides. How happens it that certain animals leap from rock to rock with such admirable precision, where the least deviation from the intended direction, would plunge them into an abyss? how happens it that they run with such astonishing address on planes, which are scarcely equal in breadth to the extremities of their limbs? how happens it that the walk of the very heaviest of animals is never attended with those false steps so frequent in the progression of man? The reason must be, that the difference in their locomotive organs in both sides of the body is scarcely any thing, and that in consequence there must be a constant harmony of action in these organs.

He, whose general movements, or those of the whole of the body are the most perfect, has the least command in particular over those of the right side; for, as I shall prove hereafter, the perfection of a part is never acquired but at the expense of that of the whole. The child, who should be taught to make an equal use of all his limbs, would possess a precision in his general movements, which he would find extremely difficult to acquire for those of the right hand, such as writing or fencing.

I can easily suppose, that some few natural circumstances may have exercised upon us an influence in our choice with respect to the direction of those general motions, which the habits of society have established. Such may be the slight excess of diameter in the right subclavian artery, and the sensation of lassitude duringdigestion, which is more perceived upon the left side on account of the situation of the stomach, and may therefore have determined us to act at such time upon the opposite side in preference. Such also may be the natural instinct, by which, to express our feelings we carry the right hand to the heart; but these circumstances are trifling in comparison with the very great difference of the movements which from the state of civilization exists between the symmetrical halves of the body; and from this view of the subject, we cannot but regard this difference as the effect of social convention, and by no means the intent of nature.

The voice, together with locomotion, is the last act of the animal life in the natural order of its functions. Now the greater number of physiologists, and Haller in particular, have indicated as the causes of want of harmony in the voice, the dissimilarity of the two portions of the larynx, the inequality of force in the muscles, which move the arytenoid cartilages, the same inequality of action in the nerves, which are distributed to each half of the organ, and the different reflection of sounds in the nostrils and frontal sinuses. Without doubt a defective voice must frequently depend upon a faulty ear; when we hear incorrectly, we sing incorrectly; but when a correct ear is united with a want of precision in the voice, the cause is then in the larynx.

The most harmonious voice is that, which the two portions of the larynx produce in an equal degree; where the vibrations on one side correspond exactly in number, strength and duration with those upon the opposite side.[12]In the same manner the most perfect singing will be produced by two voices exactly similar in tone, compass, and inflection.

From the numerous considerations which I have offered, the following general conclusion may be deduced—namely, that one of the most essential characteristics of the animal life, is a harmony of action in the two analogous parts, or in the two sides of the simple organ concurring to the same end. The relation which exists between this harmony of action, which is the character of the functions, and symmetry of form, which is the attribute of the organs of the animal life, will easily be seen.

I wish to observe in finishing this section, that in pointing out the different derangements, which take place in the animal life, from the want of harmony in the organs, I have only pretended to assign a single isolated cause of such derangements; I am well aware that a thousand other causes besides dissimilarity in the hemispheres of the brain, may affect the operations of the mind.

Along with the phenomena of the animal life, let us now consider those of the organic life, and we shall find that harmony has nothing to do with them. Of what detriment would it be to the general health of the individual, should one of his kidneys be stronger than the other, and secrete more urine; should one of his lungs be better unfolded than the other, admit more venous, and send out more arterial blood; should a less organic force be the lot of the salivary glands on one side than on the other side of his body? The simple function, to which both organs concur, would not be performed lessperfectly. Whenever but a slight fulness supervenes on one side of the liver, spleen, or pancreas, the sound part makes up for the defect, and the function is little disturbed. The circulation also remains unaltered among the frequent variations in the vascular system of each side of the body, whether such variations exist naturally, or whether they arise from some artificial obliteration of the larger vessels as in aneurism.

Hence we find those numerous irregularities of structure, those malconformations, which as I have said may be remarked in the organic life, and nothing of a morbid nature in consequence arising. From hence we see that almost continual succession of modifications, which lessen or increase the circle of the organic functions. The vital powers, and their exciting causes, are continually varying, and thus occasion a constant instability in the functions of the organs, for a thousand causes may at every moment double or triple the activity of the circulation, and respiration, increase or diminish the quantity of bile, urine, or saliva, and suspend or augment the nutrition of the parts. Hunger, food, sleep, motion, rest, and the passions may all of them impress upon these functions so great a mobility, as every day to make them run through a hundred degrees of strength or weakness.

In the animal life on the contrary, every thing is uniform and constant, the powers of the senses cannot experience these alternate modifications, or at least, not in so marked a manner. Indeed they are at all times in a state of relation with the physical powers, which preside over exterior bodies; now the latter remaining unaltered, such variations would destroy all relative connexion, and thus the functions cease.

Besides, if this mobility, which characterises the organic life, were the attribute of sensation—for the same reasonit would be that of all the operations of the mind. In such case of what would man consist? The perpetual sport of every thing surrounding him, he would find his existence at one time little different from that of inanimate matter, at others superior in perfection and energy to that even which he now enjoys, allied at one time to the brute, at another, to spiritual nature.

FOOTNOTES:[8]This supposition, though no doubt ingenious, is not true. If the want of accuracy of hearing arose in fact from the inequality of the power of the two organs, this defect might be remedied by using but one ear; but experience gives a different result. We shall not discuss, in relation to the same principle of inequality of the organs, the explanation of strabismus; but at least, for every thing that relates to the just appreciation of colours, this principle is no more applicable than to the just appreciation of sounds. I know a man who has never been able to distinguish theblue of the skyfromthe green of the sea, and he succeeds no better by closing one eye.[9]We cannot, without confounding all the ideas we have formed of the senses, give this name to the memory, imagination and judgment; at the most we might give the name of internal senses to certain sensations which inform us of the particular state of some internal organ, in the same way as the external senses make us acquainted with the properties and state of external bodies.[10]We cannot conceive how the judgment can be weak or strong, if we do not understand by it that it is habitually accurate or inaccurate. His judgment is sound who usually perceives the true relations between things; and this is independent of the number and variety of the ideas upon which he has to pronounce. The man to whose mind there is presented but a small number of relations, has but little imagination; but if these relations be true, we cannot say that his judgment is weak.[11]Bichat, in order to retain for the organs of organic life the character of irregularity in the forms which he had assigned to them, has been compelled to avail himself of the inequality of the size of the congenerous organs. He soon repented having established an uniform principle; and in this case for example, he is near being condemned by the very sentence which he has himself pronounced. The locomotive system, in fact, the symmetry of which no person before him thought of denying, is destitute of it according to the principle he has established, since it presents in its two halves an inequality of size and action. In order to avoid this consequence, Bichat has maintained that the inequality of size arose from the inequality of action, and that this was the result, not of an original disposition, but of our social habits only. To prove this assertion, he has been compelled to heap sophism on sophism; he cannot in this case be suspected of a wish to deceive; he was convinced of the truth of the principle, and we know that to prove what is believed to be true, the weakest reasons always seem to be sufficient. But these very errors should be turned to our advantage, by showing us how dangerous is the tendency of generalizing upon every thing, since it was capable of misleading so judicious a mind.Without stopping to refute in detail all the reasons which he has advanced to support his opinion, we cannot help saying something of them; and in the first place, the difference of size uniformly exists; it is evident that it does not arise from great exercise, since it is found in the infant at birth, and the nourishing artery of the right arm is larger than that of the left. If the right arm be not really stronger than the other, why should we always use it in preference? If we employ it in writing, should we say with Bichat, that it is only because it is better situated to move from left to right, in the order in which the characters of our writing succeed each other; might it not be said, with more reason, that our letters go from left to right, because it is the direction in which the right hand most easily traces them? All this besides relates merely to the form of our characters, since all the oriental languages are written from right to left; yet it is always done with the right hand. Is it still said that the necessity of union in battle has led to the employment of the right arm to hold the weapons, as if the Hurons or Algonquins fought in close ranks like our Grenadiers. If this use of the same arm or the same leg was only conventional, why among some people, is the left side never preferred?[12]The theory of wind instruments is not yet sufficiently well understood, to enable us to say, what sort of influence would be exerted upon the sound by the inequality of vibrating plates.(See the article Voice, in my Elements of Physiology, Vol. 2d.)

[8]This supposition, though no doubt ingenious, is not true. If the want of accuracy of hearing arose in fact from the inequality of the power of the two organs, this defect might be remedied by using but one ear; but experience gives a different result. We shall not discuss, in relation to the same principle of inequality of the organs, the explanation of strabismus; but at least, for every thing that relates to the just appreciation of colours, this principle is no more applicable than to the just appreciation of sounds. I know a man who has never been able to distinguish theblue of the skyfromthe green of the sea, and he succeeds no better by closing one eye.

[9]We cannot, without confounding all the ideas we have formed of the senses, give this name to the memory, imagination and judgment; at the most we might give the name of internal senses to certain sensations which inform us of the particular state of some internal organ, in the same way as the external senses make us acquainted with the properties and state of external bodies.

[10]We cannot conceive how the judgment can be weak or strong, if we do not understand by it that it is habitually accurate or inaccurate. His judgment is sound who usually perceives the true relations between things; and this is independent of the number and variety of the ideas upon which he has to pronounce. The man to whose mind there is presented but a small number of relations, has but little imagination; but if these relations be true, we cannot say that his judgment is weak.

[11]Bichat, in order to retain for the organs of organic life the character of irregularity in the forms which he had assigned to them, has been compelled to avail himself of the inequality of the size of the congenerous organs. He soon repented having established an uniform principle; and in this case for example, he is near being condemned by the very sentence which he has himself pronounced. The locomotive system, in fact, the symmetry of which no person before him thought of denying, is destitute of it according to the principle he has established, since it presents in its two halves an inequality of size and action. In order to avoid this consequence, Bichat has maintained that the inequality of size arose from the inequality of action, and that this was the result, not of an original disposition, but of our social habits only. To prove this assertion, he has been compelled to heap sophism on sophism; he cannot in this case be suspected of a wish to deceive; he was convinced of the truth of the principle, and we know that to prove what is believed to be true, the weakest reasons always seem to be sufficient. But these very errors should be turned to our advantage, by showing us how dangerous is the tendency of generalizing upon every thing, since it was capable of misleading so judicious a mind.Without stopping to refute in detail all the reasons which he has advanced to support his opinion, we cannot help saying something of them; and in the first place, the difference of size uniformly exists; it is evident that it does not arise from great exercise, since it is found in the infant at birth, and the nourishing artery of the right arm is larger than that of the left. If the right arm be not really stronger than the other, why should we always use it in preference? If we employ it in writing, should we say with Bichat, that it is only because it is better situated to move from left to right, in the order in which the characters of our writing succeed each other; might it not be said, with more reason, that our letters go from left to right, because it is the direction in which the right hand most easily traces them? All this besides relates merely to the form of our characters, since all the oriental languages are written from right to left; yet it is always done with the right hand. Is it still said that the necessity of union in battle has led to the employment of the right arm to hold the weapons, as if the Hurons or Algonquins fought in close ranks like our Grenadiers. If this use of the same arm or the same leg was only conventional, why among some people, is the left side never preferred?

Without stopping to refute in detail all the reasons which he has advanced to support his opinion, we cannot help saying something of them; and in the first place, the difference of size uniformly exists; it is evident that it does not arise from great exercise, since it is found in the infant at birth, and the nourishing artery of the right arm is larger than that of the left. If the right arm be not really stronger than the other, why should we always use it in preference? If we employ it in writing, should we say with Bichat, that it is only because it is better situated to move from left to right, in the order in which the characters of our writing succeed each other; might it not be said, with more reason, that our letters go from left to right, because it is the direction in which the right hand most easily traces them? All this besides relates merely to the form of our characters, since all the oriental languages are written from right to left; yet it is always done with the right hand. Is it still said that the necessity of union in battle has led to the employment of the right arm to hold the weapons, as if the Hurons or Algonquins fought in close ranks like our Grenadiers. If this use of the same arm or the same leg was only conventional, why among some people, is the left side never preferred?

[12]The theory of wind instruments is not yet sufficiently well understood, to enable us to say, what sort of influence would be exerted upon the sound by the inequality of vibrating plates.(See the article Voice, in my Elements of Physiology, Vol. 2d.)

[12]The theory of wind instruments is not yet sufficiently well understood, to enable us to say, what sort of influence would be exerted upon the sound by the inequality of vibrating plates.

(See the article Voice, in my Elements of Physiology, Vol. 2d.)

One of the great distinguishing characters of the phenomena of the animal life in opposition to those of the organic life, has just been shewn. That, which I am about to examine, is not of less importance. The functions of the animal life intermit; the functions of the organic life are performed with an uninterrupted continuity.

Prolong but little the causes which are capable of suspending respiration, or the circulation of the blood, and life itself shall be suspended, nay, even annihilated. All the secretions go on uninterruptedly; if they intermit at all (and those of the bile and saliva for instance, when not immediately required for the purposes of digestion and mastication, may be said to intermit) such intermissions affect the intensity of the secretion only, and not the entire exercise of the function. Exhalation and absorption incessantly succeed each other; the processof nutrition must be continually carried on; the double movement of assimilation and decomposition from which it results, can only be terminated with life itself.

In this concatenation of the organic phenomena, each function depends immediately upon those which precede it. The centre of them all, the circulation, is immediately connected with the exercise of them all, for when this is troubled, they languish, when this ceases, they cease also. Just in the same manner the movements of a clock all stop with the pendulum. Nor only is the general action of the organic life connected with the heart; but there cannot exist a single function of this nature unconnected with all the others, for without secretion, there can be no digestion, without exhalation no absorption, without digestion no nutrition. Hence as a general character of the organic functions may be indicated continuity of action, and mutual dependence.

In the exercise of the functions of the animal life, there will be regularly seen an alternation of activity and repose, complete intermissions, and not remissions only.

Fatigued by long continued action, the senses all alike become for a time, incapable of receiving any further impression. The ear loses its sensibility to sound, the eye to light, the tongue to savours, the pituitary membrane to smells, the touch to the qualities of bodies about which it is conversant, and all this for the sole reason that the respective functions of these different organs, have for a long time been exercised.

In like manner, the brain fatigued by too great an effort in the exercise of any of its powers, in order toregain its excitability, must cease to act for a period proportioned to the duration of its preceding action. The muscles also after having been strongly contracted, before they can contract anew, must remain for awhile in a state of relaxation. Hence in locomotion, and the exertion of the voice, there must be intermissions.

Such then is the character peculiar to the organs of the animal life. They cease to act because they have acted. They become fatigued, their exhausted powers must be renewed.

This intermission is sometimes general, sometimes partial. When a single organ, for a long time has been exercised, the others remaining inactive, it relaxes and sleeps, the others continuing to watch.—Hence, without doubt, proceeds the reason, why there is no immediate dependence among the functions of this order on each other. The senses being shut up against sensation, the brain may still subsist in action, may remember, imagine, or reflect. In such case the power of locomotion and the voice also, may equally well be exercised, and these in like manner may remain unexercised, and the activity of the senses be in no-wise impaired.

Thus the animal at will may fatigue any one of the parts of this life, and on this very account, such parts must all of them possess a capability of being relaxed, a power of repairing their forces in an isolated manner. This is the partial sleep of the organs.

General sleep is the sleep of all the parts. It follows from that law, which with respect to the functions of the animal life, enchains intermission with periods of action,from that law, by which this life is particularly distinguished from the organic life.

Very numerous varieties are remarked in this periodical state, to which all animals are subject. The most complete sleep is that in which the outward life is entirely suspended. The least perfect sleep is that which affects one organ only; it is that of which we have just been speaking.

Between these two extremes there are many intermediate states. At times perception, locomotion, and the voice only are suspended; the imagination, the memory, and the judgment remaining in action. At other times, to the exercise of the latter faculties are added those of the locomotive organs and the voice.—Such is the sleep, in which we dream, for dreams are nothing more than a portion of the animal life escaped from the torpor, in which the other portion of it is plunged.

Sometimes but very few of the senses have ceased their communication with external objects. Such is that species of somnambulism, in which to the action of the brain, the muscles, and the larynx, are added the very distinct actions of the ear and the sense of touch.[13]

Sleep then cannot be considered as a constant and invariable state with regard to its phenomena.—Scarcely ever do we sleep in the same manner twice together. A number of causes modify in applying to a greater or less portion of the animal life the laws of intermission of action. Its different degrees should be marked by the different functions, which these intermissions affect.

But the principle of it is every where the same from the simple relaxation of a muscle to the entire suspension of the whole of the animal life. Its application, however, to the different external functions, varies without end.

These ideas on sleep are different, no doubt, from that narrow system, where its cause exclusively placed in the brain, in the heart, in the large vessels, or in the stomach, presents an isolated and frequently an illusory phenomenon, as the base of one of the great modifications of life.

And what is the reason why light and darkness in the natural order of things, coincide so regularly with the activity or intermission of the external functions? The reason is this, that during the day a thousand means of excitement perpetually surround the animal, a thousand causes exhaust the powers of his sensitive and locomotive organs, fatigue them, and prepare them for a state of relaxation, which at night is favoured by the absence of every kind of stimulus. Thus, in the actual state ofsociety, where this order is in part inverted, we assemble about us at evening, a variety of excitants, which prolong our waking moments, and put off until towards the first hours of daylight, the intermission of our animal life, an intermission, which we favour besides by removing from the place of our repose whatever might produce sensation.

We may for a certain time, by multiplying the causes of excitement about them, withdraw the organs of the animal life from this law of intermission, which should naturally cause them to sleep; but at last they must undergo its influence, and nothing can any longer suspend it. Exhausted by watching, the soldier slumbers at the cannon’s side, the slave under the whip, the criminal in the midst of torture.

We must carefully make a distinction, however, between the natural sleep, which is the effect of lassitude, and that, which is the consequence of some affection of the brain, of apoplexy, or concussion, for instance. In the latter case the senses watch, receive impressions, and are affected as usual, but these impressions are not perceived by the diseased sensorium; we cannot be conscious of them. On the contrary, in ordinary sleep the senses are affected as much, or even more than the brain.

From what has now been said, it follows, that the organic life, has a longer duration than the animal life. In fact the sum of the periods of the intermissions of the latter, is almost equal to that of the times of its activity. We live internally almost double the time that we exist externally.

FOOTNOTE:[13]The action of the brain is far from being preserved in somnambulism. The thread of ideas, on the contrary, is completely broken, and this is the most striking character which distinguishes every kind of sleep from wakefulness. The mind then cannot reflect upon the sensations which it receives, it abandons itself successively and without any resistance to all those which are presented, without examining the connexion which they can have between them. In ordinary sleep, the senses are almost entirely blunted, the mind receives no other sensations than those which have been derived from memory; but they present themselves in a confused manner, without order and in such a way as often to form the most strange and incoherent images. In somnambulism the action of many senses, and that of hearing in particular is preserved; the judgment of the sleeper can then exercise itself not only upon its reminiscences, but also upon the impressions which are transmitted to it from without. The sound of a bell or a drum, being heard while we are in a dream, will immediately modify it. In this way a person may gain the attention of a somnambulist, and as the latter possesses the use of his voice, it will be seen by his answers that his ideas can be directed at will, and led in this way wherever it is wished; for the impressions that he receives from without, being stronger than those which come from memory, he will almost always obey the first.

[13]The action of the brain is far from being preserved in somnambulism. The thread of ideas, on the contrary, is completely broken, and this is the most striking character which distinguishes every kind of sleep from wakefulness. The mind then cannot reflect upon the sensations which it receives, it abandons itself successively and without any resistance to all those which are presented, without examining the connexion which they can have between them. In ordinary sleep, the senses are almost entirely blunted, the mind receives no other sensations than those which have been derived from memory; but they present themselves in a confused manner, without order and in such a way as often to form the most strange and incoherent images. In somnambulism the action of many senses, and that of hearing in particular is preserved; the judgment of the sleeper can then exercise itself not only upon its reminiscences, but also upon the impressions which are transmitted to it from without. The sound of a bell or a drum, being heard while we are in a dream, will immediately modify it. In this way a person may gain the attention of a somnambulist, and as the latter possesses the use of his voice, it will be seen by his answers that his ideas can be directed at will, and led in this way wherever it is wished; for the impressions that he receives from without, being stronger than those which come from memory, he will almost always obey the first.

Another of the great distinguishing characters of the two lives of the animal, consists in the independence of the one, and in the dependence of the other on habit.

In the animal life every thing is modified by habit. The functions of this life, whether enfeebled or exhausted by it, according to the different periods of their activity, appear to assume a variety of characters: to estimate the influence of habit, it is necessary to consider two things in the effect of all sensation, the sentiment, or immediate feeling, which we have of external objects, and the judgment which is the result of one or more comparisons made with respect to them. An air, for instance, strikes the ear; the first impression made upon the organ is, we know not why, agreeable or painful. This is sentiment—at present let us suppose the air to be continued. We may now endeavour to appreciate the different sounds of which it is composed, and to distinguish their accords. In this we exercise the judgment. Now, on these two things, the action of habit is inverse. It enfeebles our sentiment of things, it improves our judgment of them; the more we regard an object, the less are we sensible of its agreeable or painful qualities, the better, at the same time, may we judge of its attributes.

Let us dwell a little on the foregoing proposition; we have said that it is the property of habit to enfeeble our sentiments of things, to bring us into a state of indifference, the middle term betwixt pain and pleasure. But before we set about to prove an assertion so remarkable, it will be well to fix the sense of it with some precision. Pain and pleasure are absolute and relative.[14]The instrument which tears us in pieces is a cause of absolute pain. Sexual connexion is a pleasure of the same nature. Again, the view of a beautiful country delights us, but here the enjoyment is relative to the actual state of the mind only; its charms have long since been indifferent to the inhabitant of the spot. A bougie when for the first time passed into the urethra is painful to the patient;eight days afterwards he is no longer sensible of it. Here we have comparative pain. Whatever destroys the texture of the organ is always productive of an absolute sensation; the simple contact of bodies at no time produces any other than a relative sensation.

Hence it is evident that the domain of absolute pleasure or pain, is much less extensive than that of these feelings when relative. The very words agreeable, or painful, imply a comparison made between the impression received by the senses, and the state of mind on which it is received. Now it is manifest that we could have referred only to relative pain and pleasure, as being submitted to the influence of habit. On these we shall occupy ourselves awhile.

And to shew that they are gradually worn away by habit as we have said, to the point of indifference, a variety of proofs may be adduced. Every foreign body in contact for the first time, with a mucous membrane, is creative of a disagreeable sensation, which by repetition, is diminished, and at last becomes altogether imperceptible. Pessaries in the vagina, tents in the rectum, the canula made use of for tying polypi of the nose, or the uterus, bougies, in the urethra, in the œsophagus, or trachea, styles and setons in the lachrymal passages, present us every day with these phenomena. The impressions of which the cutaneous organ is the seat, are all of them subjected to the same law. The sudden passage from cold to heat, or from heat to cold, is always the occasion of a disagreeable sensation, but such sensation gradually and at last entirely disappears, if the temperature of the atmosphere be within a certain range and constant. From hence proceed those various sensations, which we have from the change of climate, or season. Similar phenomena in the same way are the result of oursuccessive perceptions of the dry or humid, the soft, or the hard qualities of bodies, and in general the same may be said of all our relative sensations, of what kind soever.

With respect to pleasure, we shall repeat what we have said of pain. The perfumer and the cook are by no means sensible in their several professions of those pungent enjoyments of which they are dispensers. In them the habit of perceiving has blunted the sentiment. The same is the case with all agreeable sensations whatever. Delightful views and delicious music are productive of a pleasure, the vivacity of which is soon lessened; for harmony and beauty if they for a long time continue to solicit our attention, are successively the sources of pleasure, of indifference, of satiety, nay even of disgust and aversion. This remark has been felt by all; Philosophers and Poets have all of them turned it to their account.

From whence arises this facility, which our sensations have of undergoing so many different, so many contrary modifications? To conceive it, let us first remark that the centre of these revolutions of pleasure, of pain, and of indifference, is by no means seated in the organs, which receive or transmit the sensation, but in the soul. The affections of the eye, of the tongue, and the ear, are at all times the same from the same objects, but to these affections at different times, we attach a variety of sentiments. In the second place we shall observe, that the action of the mind in each several sentiment of pain or pleasure, which has been the effect of a sensation, consists in a comparison between this sensation, and that by which it has been preceded, a comparison, which is not the result of reflection, but the involuntary effect of the first impression of the object. Now, the greater the differencebetween the actual and the past impression, the livelier will be the sentiment. The sensations which affect us the most, are those which we never before have experienced.

The consequence is, that in proportion as the same sensations are repeated, the less impression do they make upon us, because the comparison between the present and the past becomes less sensible. Pain then and pleasure naturally tend to their own annihilation. The art of prolonging our enjoyments, consists in varying their causes. Indeed were I to regard the laws of our material organization only, I might almost say, that constancy is but one of the happy dreams of the poet, and that the sex to which we at present bend, would possess but a very weak hold upon our attentions were their charms too uniform; I might almost assert that were every female cast in the same mould, such mould would be the tomb of love. But here let us forbear to insist upon the principles of physiology, where they tend to the destruction of those of morality. The one, and the other are equally solid, though sometimes at variance. We shall only notice, that at times the former unhappily are our only guides. It is then, that love disappears, with the pleasure which it has procured, and leaves us but disgust. It is then, that recollection too often carries us aside from our duties in rendering uniform that which we feel and that which we have felt, for such appears to be the essence of physical happiness, that past pleasure enfeebles the attraction of that which we enjoy.

The consequences are clear. Physical pleasure is nothing but a comparative sentiment; it ceases to exist when uniformity supervenes between the actual and past impression. By means of this uniformity habit must bring down pleasure to indifference: Such is the secretof the very great influence which it exercises over our enjoyments.

Such also is its mode of action on our pains. Time flies, it is said, and carries away sorrow; time is the true remedy of grief; and wherefore? The reason is, that the more sensations it accumulates upon that which has been painful, the more does it enfeeble the sentiment of comparison between what we are, and what we were. At last this sentiment becomes extinct. There are no eternal sorrows.

I have just now proved that the sentiment is enfeebled by the effect of habit. It is as easy to demonstrate, that habit improves and enlarges the judgment.

When, for the first time, the eye wanders over an extensive country, or the ear is struck by a succession of harmonious proportions; when the taste, or the smell for the first time are affected by any very compound savour or scent, there arise from these sensations only confused and inexact ideas. We represent to ourselves the whole, its parts escape us. But let these sensations be repeated, and in proportion as they are so, will the judgment become precise and rigorous, and the knowledge of the object be perfected.

Let us for instance observe the man, who a stranger to theatrical amusement of every kind is introduced to the Opera. He will have but a very imperfect notion of it. The dancing, the music, the scenery, the actors, the splendor of the whole will be all confounded within his mind in a sort of delightful chaos. But let him be present at many representations, and whatever in this charming whole belongs to the several arts, will assumeits separate place. He will have seized its detail, may form a judgment of it, and this he will do the more accurately in proportion to his opportunities of observation.

The above example affords us an abridgment of the picture of the man, who enjoys for the first time the spectacle of nature. The child, at its birth, is only capable of general impressions, but habitude, by gradually blunting these impressions, enables him to seize the particular attributes of bodies, and teaches him to see, to hear, to smell, to taste and to touch, by making him in each sensation descend successively from the confused notion of the whole to the precise idea of its parts. The animal life needs education, and this is one of its great characters.

Habit then while it hebetates our sentiments, improves our judgments of things. An example will render this truth indisputable. Most persons may recollect that in traversing a meadow, embellished with a variety of flowers, they have been sensible of a general fragrance only, the confused assemblage of all the particular odours which are exhaled from each individual flower; but in a short time from habit this first sentiment is weakened, it is soon afterwards altogether effaced. They then may have distinguished the odour of each particular plant, and formed a judgment at first impossible.

The two contrary operations thus of habit on our sentiments and judgments, tend as we see to one common end, the improvement, namely, of the animal life.

Let us at present compare the above-mentioned phenomena with those of the organic life, and the latter weshall see as constantly withdrawn from the influence of habit, as the former are subject to it.—Habit has never modified the circulation, or respiration, has never changed the mode of the processes of exhalation, absorption, or nutrition. A thousand causes would every day endanger our very existence, were these essential functions under the influence of habit.

The excretion of the urine and fecal matter may, nevertheless, be suspended, accelerated, and return according to laws determined by habit. The action of the stomach with respect to hunger, and its contact with certain aliments, appears also to be subordinate to habit; but here let us remark, that these different phenomena hold, as it were, a middle place between the two lives, are found on the limits of the one and the other, and participate almost as much of the animal as the organic life. In fact, they all of them take place on mucous membranes, a species of organ, which being at all times in relation with bodies foreign to our nature, is the seat of an inward tact, in every way analogous to the outward tact of the skin. The two must be necessarily subject to the same laws.—Can we be astonished at the influence of habit on both of them?

We cannot, and let us remark also, that the greater part of these phenomena, which begin as it were, and terminate the organic life, are connected with motions essentially voluntary, and in consequence, under the dominion of the animal life.

I shall not here enlarge on the numerous modifications of power, taste, and desire, which have their source in habit. I refer to the numerous works which have considered its influence in a different point of view from that which I have indicated.

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