"The breezy fragrance of the morn"—to forget the trials of life, and muse upon a still brighter world, where the flowers perish not, where storms come not, and where winter is unknown. Thus, to our bodily health do our senses administer; and thus the sense of smell calls us from the close room of the populous city, into the fresh air of the country—from the crowded town,"Where houses thick and sewers annoy the air,"to issue forth on a summer's morn, and breathe the pure air redolent of sweetest odours.When overpoweringly offensive effluvia disgust us, we endeavour to stop our breath—we breathe at protracted intervals, take in as little air as possible, and endeavour to escape from the infected locality; but do we flee away from the gale bearing the scent of the honey-suckle, the bean-field, or the new-mown hay? It is, indeed, rather to our pleasures, to our mental enjoyment, to our delight, or to our disgust and abhorrence, that our sense of smelladministers. We depend little upon it for our discrimination between things acting as poison, and things nutritious or wholesome. How pleasant is the smell of laurel-water or prussic acid—how dull and insipid the smell of wheaten flour! We must not, then, always be guided by our sense of smell, although in general it serves us as a monitor.The sense of smell is intimately combined with that of taste; indeed, it is a powerful auxiliary to it, for, as a learned writer well observes, "taste, without the aid of smell, would be very vague in its indications, and limited in its range." Nevertheless, savage people, in whom the sense of smell is far more acute than in civilized races, do not appear to possess a greater refinement of taste—indeed, what the former regard as delicacies would be rejected by the latter with abhorrence. Most quadrupeds possess the sense of smell in far greater perfection than man, and are evidently influenced by it in their choice or rejection of food. In the carnivorous tribes this sense is, perhaps, at its highest ratio, and many pursue their prey guided by their olfactory organs alone.Certain odours are agreeable to some few animals, irrespective of food; but on this point our range of information is limited. The cat delights in the scent of valerian, and some other herbs, although they are not among the articles of this animal's diet; yet to the cat and the dog, the odour of the sweetest flowers yields no pleasure. Birds, in general, are endowed withthe sense of smell in a far lower degree than quadrupeds, and the olfactory organs are far less developed. Birds of prey are guided by their keen powers of vision, and, indeed, if we are to trust to the experiments of Audubon, the sense of smell even in the carrion-loving vulture, contrary to the opinion of the ancients, as well as of modern naturalists, is at a low ratio; for, as he asserts, the stuffed skin of an animal will attract a vulture from its "pride of place," in the upper regions of the air. It is true that this assertion has been contradicted by Mr. Waterton, but it is again confirmed by the experiments and observations of Mr. Bachman, which are recorded in Loudon's Magazine of Natural History, viii. 167; and M. Levuillant seems to have considered that it is by the eye chiefly, if not exclusively, that the vulture obtains its disgusting food. The following observations from the proceedings of the Zoological Society will be here, perhaps, not unacceptable:—March 14th, 1837.—"A paper was read on the habits of theVultur Aura, by Mr. W. Sells, with notes of the dissections of the heads of two specimens, by Mr. R. Owen. The writer states, that this bird is found in great abundance in the island of Jamaica, where it is known by the name ofJohn Crow; and so valuable are its services in the removal of carrion and animal filth, that the legislature have imposed a fine of £5 upon any one destroying it within a stated distance of the principal towns.Its ordinary food is carrion, but when pressed hard with hunger, it will seize upon young fowls, rats, and snakes. After noticing the highly offensive odour emitted from the eggs of this bird when broken, Mr. Sells relates the following instances which have come under his own personal observation, for the purpose of proving that theVultur Aurapossesses the sense of smell in a very acute degree."It has been questioned whether the vulture discovers its food by means of the organ of smell or that of sight. I apprehend that its powers of vision are very considerable, and of most important use; but that it is principally from highly organized olfactories that it so speedily receives intelligence of where the savoury morsel is to be found, will plainly appear by the following facts. In hot climates, the burial of the dead commonly takes place in about twenty-four hours after death, and that necessarily, so rapidly does decomposition take place. On one occasion, I had to make apost mortemexamination of a body within twenty hours after death, in a mill-house completely concealed, and while so engaged the roof of the mill-house was thickly studded with these birds. Another instance was that of an old patient and much valued friend, who died at midnight; the family had to send for necessaries for the funeral to Spanish Town, distant thirty miles, so that the interment could not take place until noon of the second day, or thirty-six hours after his decease, long before which time—and a mostpainful sight it was—the ridge of the shingled roof of his house, a large mansion of but one floor, had a number of these melancholy heralds of death perched thereon, beside many more which had settled in trees in its immediate vicinity. In these cases, the birds must have been directed by smell alone, as sight was totally out of the question."In opposition to the above opinion, it has been stated by Mr. Audubon, that vultures and other birds of prey possess the sense of smell in a very inferior degree to carnivorous quadrupeds, and that, so far from guiding them to their prey from a distance, it affords them no indication of its presence even when at hand. In confirmation of this opinion, he relates, that he stuffed the skin of a deer full of hay, and placed it in a field; in a few minutes a vulture lighted near it, and directly proceeded to attack it, but finding no eatable food, he at length quitted it. And he further relates, that a dead dog was concealed in a narrow ravine, twenty feet below the surface of the earth around it, and filled with briers and high canes; that many vultures were seen sailing over the spot, but none discovered it. I may remark upon the above experiments, that, in the first case, the stag was doubtlessseenby the birds, but it does not follow that they might not also have smelt the hide, although inodorous to the human nose; in the second case, the birds had been undoubtedly attracted by thesmell, however embarrassed they might have been by the concealment ofthe object which caused it. I have, in many hundred instances, seen the vulture feeding upon small objects under rocks, bushes, and in other situations, where it was utterly impossible that the bird could have discovered them but through the sense of smell; and we are to recollect, that the habit of the vulture is that of soaring aloft in the air, and not that of foraging upon the ground."To this account are appended the details of a minute comparison, by professor Owen, of the olfactory nerves and the olfactory branch of the fifth pair in theVultur Aura, with those of the common turkey and the goose. The learned anatomist concludes by saying, "the above notes show that the vulture has a well-developed organ of smell, but whether he finds his prey by that sense alone, or in what degree it assists, anatomy is not so well calculated to explain as experiment."It is far from being impossible that Mr. Waterton and Mr. Wells on one side, and Mr. Audubon and his party on the other, may be both correct, for in different species of vulture the power of smell may greatly differ; we know that it does among carnivorous quadrupeds, which seek their prey, some chiefly by sight, others by their acuteness of scent. Among reptiles, the sense of smell appears to be at a low ratio, nor can we suppose that it is acute in fishes. In fact, in fishes the nasal cavities are rudimental, and do not communicate with the organs of respiration. They arenothing more than blind sacs, placed one on each side in front of the head, with two external openings appertaining to each sac. The principal entrance is valvular, and on a curiously plaited membrane in the sac itself, or on tufted or arborescent filaments, are the ramifications of the olfactory nerves distributed. That fishes are attracted or repelled by the odorous effluvia of bodies, diffused either through the water itself or through the air which the water contains, is too well ascertained to be denied. Fishes, in fact, are attracted by certain odoriferous substances, and anglers often use baits impregnated with some volatile oil.[20][20]On this subject see Izaak Walton's "Complete Angler."We cannot for a moment doubt that insects smell; that ants and bees are greatly directed by this sense in their search after food; that carrion-loving beetles are thereby guided from a distance to their repast; that the flesh-fly is led to putrescent animal substances; and we know that the flesh-fly is sometimes deceived by the smell of certain plants emitting a cadaverous odour, and deposits her eggs upon them, the larvæ perishing for want of proper food. In what organ the senses of smell in insects are placed does not appear very plain, and the like observation applies to thecrustacea, as crabs and lobsters, for which baited traps are set, and into which they are allured by their sense of smell.No distinct organs of smell have been discovered in the mollusca, yet it is incontestablethat some of these creatures are capable of appreciating odours. We cannot suppose that in the highly-organized and savage cuttle-fish this sense is wanting; and we know that snails and slugs are attracted from a distance by the odour of the favourite plants or fruits on which they feed. The garden slugs are fond of animal food, as we can testify, and they will pick bones with relish; we have seen the hollow of a marrow-bone thrown into the garden filled the next morning with slugs, which had completely cleaned it.Whether the bivalve mollusks, as mussels, oysters, clams, etc., have any definite sense of smell, we cannot ascertain, but we conjecture that they are endowed with the sense of taste, for they know what to accept and what to refuse.We have said that man derives pleasure or disgust from the exercise of the sense of smell, and is greatly directed thereby what to choose and what to avoid; yet this sense harmonizes with those of sight, hearing, and more particularly of taste, to render this world delightful to us, if we use God's gifts aright. Has he not scattered the loveliest flowers in garden and meadow? Has he not created fruits that gratify alike the sight, the touch, the taste, and the smell? Has he not spread the beauties of nature around us? Was not the garden of Eden prepared for our first parents? Yes; but sin has entered the world, and over flower and fruit has been the "trail of the serpent."A few passages from the Scriptures, on whichwe need not comment, will serve to show the figurative notice of, or reference to this sense by the sacred writers, in order to influence the mind of man through an appeal to his own sensations. "An odour of a sweet smell, a sacrifice acceptable, well-pleasing to God," Phil. iv. 18. Works pleasing to the Lord, deeds of charity and mercy, done by the believer as a testimony of his lively faith, and a proof to the world that faith engenders good works; such works, and not those of the pharisee, are an odour acceptable to God. "Walk in love, as Christ also hath loved us, and hath given himself for us an offering and a sacrifice to God for a sweet-smelling savour," Eph. v. 2. Let us, who call ourselves Christians, so walk, that our conduct before men may be after the pattern of Him, who, in love to a fallen race, offered himself as a sacrifice fragrant unto God the Father, that we might escape the sword of justice. When Noah offered burnt-offerings on the altar, "the Lord smelled a sweet savour," Gen. viii. 21; and to Him even now, O reader, will be fragrant true penitence and faith in that Mediator, of whom the sacrifices under the primitive dispensation were but types, and in this sense only did they waft incense to the throne of the Almighty! The language is altogether figurative; but how pertinent to our feelings, and therefore how clear to our understanding, and how forcible!5.Touch.—Of all the senses, not one is soimportant to us as that of tact or touch. It is the foundation, as it were, of all our knowledge of the material world, and according to their elevation in the scale of being do animals enjoy this sense in greater perfection, and possess organs in which it is more especially concentrated. We here distinguish, between mere feeling and touch. We consider the wings of the bat, and the antennæ of insects, rather as feelers than as organs of exact appreciation. The sense of feeling is diffused over the whole surface of our body; but the sense of touch, so far as man is concerned, resides in the hand, and especially in the pulpy tips of the fingers.It is true that we use the word feel when we test the qualities of bodies with our hands, and in this sense our hands are feelers. But we derive a knowledge from the use of our hands, which no other animal derives from the exercise of any organ of tact it may possess. Nor is this to be wondered at, for in all other animals tact or touch administers only to their physical necessities. For example, the sense of touch in the pulpy end of the beak of the snipe or woodcock must be exquisite—multitudinous are the nerves supplying that part—for even the soft worm or larva in the oozy ground is felt, and the finger of man would most probably fail here; but in man the sense of touch appeals to the mind, and communicates mental pleasure, mental instruction, or even mental disquietude. Even as discords in music, or grating sounds,such as the filing of a saw, or the rubbing of cork against a wall, excite the nervous system through the mind, so does the sense of touch disturb the mind and body when that which is touched is discordant. A lady of the writer's acquaintance, by no means timid, and by no means afraid of snakes, was induced to let a common snake glide through her hand; she bore the sensation with firmness, but she nearly fainted when the snake had crept through her grasp, and described the working of the reptile's ribs and abdominal plates as communicating an indescribable sensation. Yet that snake was a sort of pet, and she used to stroke its head, and feel its lambent tongue quiver against her hand. She was not afraid, but the sensation jarred like discordant notes.Were persons to write down their experiences of the pleasing and unpleasing sensations derived through the medium of the different senses, and were those notes collected together, we should have a mass of most interesting and instructive information, well worthy the study of a physiologist. After all, however, the sense of touch or tact gives less pleasure to man than that of sight, hearing, taste, or smell; it appreciates neither colours nor harmony, nor the flavour of luscious viands, nor the odour of flowers and perfumes; but it communicates greatly to his store of information. It is a "matter of fact" sense, and though an old poet has said—"Have you felt the wool of the beaver,Or swan's down, ever?"it is not one of the senses which figure on the page of poetry or romance.We discriminate, then, between the sense of touch and that of mere feeling. Most probably all animals, even the lowest mollusks, feel,—nay, even animals in which no nerves are to be discovered, as the acalephæ, or jelly fishes; but touch is a refinement upon feeling, which is restricted within certain zoological bounds. A learned writer says: "The conditions on which the perfection of the sense of touch depends are, first, an abundant provision of soft papillæ, supplied with numerous nerves; secondly, a certain degree of fineness in the cuticle; thirdly, a soft cushion of a cellular substance beneath the skin; fourthly, a hard resisting basis, such as that which is provided in the nails of the human fingers; and lastly, it is requisite that the organ be so constructed as to be capable of being readily applied, in a variety of directions, to the unequal surfaces of bodies, for the closer the contact, the more accurate will be the perceptions conveyed. In forming an estimate of the degree of perfection in which the sense is exercised in any particular animal, we must accordingly take into account the mobility, the capability of flexion, and the figure of the parts employed as organs of touch."[21][21]Dr. Roget.This is decidedly true as regards the higher orders of creation; but let us look at insects—do not bees, and wasps, and flies feel? can wewatch a fly brushing its head and wings, and rubbing its little paws against each other, without an assurance that it enjoys the sense of touch? and what shall we say of the spider, that feels at each thread, and "lives along its line?" Surely its sense of touch must be sufficiently acute; yet it is limited to a certain given object, and the spider gains only that information which bears upon its animal necessities. But the sense of touch gives to man a number of the properties of matter, which he retains as abstract ideas, such as dimension, form, condition of surface, hardness, softness, elasticity, compressibility, fluidity, quiescence, motion. In many and most important respects it assists the eye; and, indeed, the senses of sight and of touch appear to be correctors and supporters of each other. As in the case of every other sense, accuracy is greatly improved by habit, yet the qualities of matter, under the dominion of touch, are ascertained in so correct a manner that we are scarcely ever deceived by the knowledge thus acquired.Dr. Fleming, in his "Philosophy of Zoology," thus writes: "The sense of touch appears in man to be able to obtain nearly all the information, with regard to external objects, which it is capable of receiving. In a few instances, the lower animals surpass us in the delicacy of the sense, as the bat, which is warned indirectly by its aid of the presence of bodies previous to coming in contact with them. The feelers of insects are likewise betteradapted for exploring the condition of the surface of bodies than any organ which we possess. But in all these the sensibility of touch is limited to particular qualities, or confined within narrow bounds. The human hand, on the contrary, by its motions, the pliability and strength of the fingers, and their softness, is the most extensive and perfect organ of touch possessed by any animal."The accuracy of the sense of touch is greatly improved by habit; and when its resources are in constant demand, as in the instance of persons deprived of sight, or born blind, its discriminating powers are wonderfully increased. The same observation applies also to the sense of hearing, which in blind persons generally is extremely acute and accurate in its perceptions. In a Monthly Volume, published by the Religious Tract Society, and entitled "Comparisons of Structure in Animals: the Hand and the Arm," the reader will find a general account of the structure and uses of the anterior limbs of man and the lower animals, and of the substitutes for the hand, as an organ of touch and prehension, with which many of the latter are provided.Dr. Fleming regards the "sense of heat" as distinct from that of touch, and, in fact, as claiming to be one of the senses. "The sense of touch," he writes, "is exclusively occupied with examinations of the conditions of resistance. Contact, therefore, is indispensably requisite for enabling the organ to act upon theobject, and muscular exertion to examine its condition. Neither of these is necessary to enable the sense of heat to act. Caloric rays emanate from a heated body, though at a distance; and in order to ascertain their direction and intensity no muscular effort is required. When the heated body happens to be in contact with us, we in like manner examine its conditions in reference to temperature without any muscular exertions, or, rather, we try to avoid them. Thus, when I lay my hand upon the table to examine its hardness or smoothness, I make an obvious muscular effort with my fingers; but when I lay my hand upon the table to examine its temperature, I endeavour to check all motion, so as to keep my hand in the same position. These qualities of the sense of heat sufficiently distinguish it from that of touch, with which it has been confounded, and justify its establishment as a distinct power of perception."It is true that we cannot test caloric by the touch, but it does not appear to us that an appreciation of caloric involves any other sense than that of ordinary cutaneous feeling; the feeling of heat or cold is a mere sensation, agreeable or painful as circumstances may be, and it is natural that we should wish to experience that temperature which is most congenial to us. We say that marble is cold and wood warm, yet both may be of the same temperature; but the marble produces a sensation of coolness, because it rapidly abstracts caloric from the partapplied to it; the skin is, in fact, a very imperfect thermometer, yet sufficient for all ordinary purposes. It conceals the machinery of our bodies, giving beauty of outline and appearance, and being provided with a most minute network of nerves of sensation, it gives us warning by the pain experienced of what things are to be avoided. "A burned child dreads the fire" is an old saying, and a boy who has been stung by a nettle will not rashly meddle with the plant again.All our senses require training and education; they are taught, even as we are taught language. It is some time before the infant sees distinctly, or forms any idea of size, proportion, or distance; long before it hears accurately, and understands a word of speech; longer still before it discriminates between musical notes; it is long before delicious odours are relished, and long before there is much distinction of flavour in food, for instinct directs the infant to its mother's breast, and for many a year sweet viands are chiefly acceptable. Habit, exercise, practice, then improve the power and acuteness of the senses, but simple feeling is blunted by habit and exercise.It is, we think, Mr. Lane who tells us, that in Egypt and elsewhere, persons who have hoarded wealth are in the habit of inflicting the bastinado on themselves, increasing the number of strokes by degrees, in order to inure themselves to a mode of extortion of which they are constantly in dread. They hope to be able toweary out their tormentors, or convince them by endurance of their poverty, and so preserve their bags of gold and silver. Idolatrous devotees in India accustom themselves to self-inflicted torture, and feel much less than we might suppose; nay, even in our own country, in times of spiritual darkness, when by mortification and penance men hoped to merit heaven, how many have worn a shirt of horsehair till custom had made it no hardship! The ancient Britons bore, almost unclothed, the severities of winter; and we have read a story, but where we cannot recollect, to the following purport:—A North American Indian was asked, how, nearly naked as he was, he bore with such ease the summer's heat and the winter's cold; he asked the inquirer, how his face, exposed to the weather, endured the changes. My face, said the white man, is hardened to it; and I, retorted the red man, am face all over.We have said it is long before an infant is in the full use of its bodily senses: now with regard to feeling the infant is acutely sensitive; but who ever saw a child of a few months old examine the qualities of objects by the touch? it cannot even manipulate; it cannot use its hands; it has to learn the art of touch, and to improve by practice and the exercise of the mind. For example, some persons will pass a piece of silk or cloth between their fingers, and tell you its quality; and so with respect to other things; this is the result of attention and exercise.No one is born without the organization necessary for the development of the sense of touch, for if the arms and hands be deficient, some other part, as the lips or tongue, will take up the function, and this alone shows what education effects; but if a person be born deaf, or blind, or incapable of taste and smell, (which latter appears to be very rare, if, indeed, the case ever occur,) no other part can supply the loss; but the loss, as far as the sight at least is concerned, is partly compensated for by the elevation of the sense of touch; and in this we see the immediate bearing of these two senses on each other.The boy born blind, upon whom Cheselden so successfully operated, believed, when first he saw, that the objects touched his eyes, as the things which he felt touched his skin; consequently he had no idea of distance. "He did not know the form of any object, nor could he distinguish one object from another, however different their figure or size might be; when objects were shown to him which he had known formerly by the touch, he looked at them with attention, and observed them carefully, in order to know them again; but as he had too many objects to retain at once, he forgot the greater part of them, and when he first learned, as he said, to see and to know objects, he forgot a thousand for one that he recollected. It was two months before he discovered that pictures represented solid bodies; until that time he had considered them as planes and surfaces differentlycoloured, and diversified by a variety of shades; but when he began to conceive that these pictures represented solid bodies, in touching the canvass of a picture with his hand he expected to find something in reality solid upon it, and he was much astonished when, on touching those parts which seemed round and unequal, he found them flat and smooth like the rest. He asked which was the sense that deceived him—the sight or the touch. There was shown to him a little portrait of his father, which was in the case of his mother's watch; he said that he knew very well that it was the resemblance of his father, but he asked with great astonishment how it was possible for so large a visage to be kept in so small a space, as that appeared to him as impossible as that a bushel could be contained in a pint."[22][22]Phil. Trans., 1728.In the Philosophical Transactions of 1826 will be found the account of a case by Mr. Wardrop, which is very interesting; it is that of an intelligent female of mature age, who was born blind; in her infancy, operations were performed on both of her eyes, but they failed, one eye being irrecoverably destroyed, and the other useless from closure of the pupil; on this eye Mr. Wardrop successfully operated: but it was not with joy that objects for the first time were perceived; she was confused by the appearance of a new world, now for the first time opened to her sense of sight; hitherto she had known it only through the sense of touch, and touch andsight had still to be reconciled. "On the sixth day, she said that she saw better than she had done on any preceding day, but I cannot tell (said she) what I do see; I am quite stupid. She seemed, indeed, bewildered from not being able to combine the knowledge acquired by the senses of sight and touch, and felt disappointed in not having the power of distinguishing at once by her eye, objects which she could so readily distinguish from one another by feeling them."The next day, on examining with the eye the tea-cups and saucers, and being asked what they were—I don't know, she replied; they look very queer to me, but I can tell in a minute when I touch them. So with an orange which was lying before her, she could make nothing of it until she actually touched it. When the experiment was made of giving her a silver pencil-case and a large key to examine with her hands, she discriminated and knew each distinctly; but when they were placed on the table side by side, though she distinguished each with her eye, yet she could not tell which was the pencil-case and which the key."In six weeks after the operation, she returned home. At this period, she had learned a great deal; she had acquired a pretty accurate notion of colours, but with regard to forms and distance she was still very ignorant. She had also great difficulty in directing her eye to an object, so that when she attempted to look at anything she turned her head in variousdirections, until her eye caught the object of which it was in search. She still entertained, however, the same hope, which she expressed soon after the operation, that when she got home, her knowledge of external things would be more accurate and intelligible, and that when she came to look at those objects which had been so long familiar to her touch, the confusion which the multiplicity of external objects now caused would in a great measure subside."Thus, then, it is from an association between the senses that correctness and precision in any one sense are acquired; and especially do the eye and hand support each other, and supply each other's deficiencies till both have learned their perfect lesson. I can stretch my hand out to any object before me with certainty, so truly does the eye tell me whether it is within my reach or not, but the eye first learned that faculty from the hand, after long discipline and many trials. Afterwards the eye speaks a silent language to the hand, and is understood. Under what merciful circumstances are they placed that possess all their faculties and senses! but, alas! how many are there that never dream of thanking a merciful God for his unbounded kindness! nay, there are some atheistical materialists who believe, or rather pretend to believe, that man's exquisite organization, and that of animals and plants, is self-developed—how, they do not condescend to explain; for, granting them their premises, namely, that matter is eternal—and what then?it must be inert, and neither the laws of vitality nor chemistry, involving electricity and galvanism, could be taken on by inert particles—all would be chaotic, did not God govern, arrange, and order all. It is he who has created man, and, fallen as man is, he still is an object of God's care; for he sent his well-beloved Son into the world for our redemption, and the time is coming in which all nations shall know the Lord, and adore him in sincerity and truth.Like all the organs of our senses, the hands are the instrument of wickedness to sinful man; his sense of touch is the inlet of evil. How refined that sense in the adroit pickpocket, but to what an ill purpose is it devoted! How dexterous are the hands of the shoplifter, but to what a wretched course have they been trained! The hand grasps the pen; every stroke is guided by its delicate sense of touch; it obeys the mind; and, oh! what dictations from the depraved mind have polluted society! God has been reviled, Jesus Christ denied, the Holy Spirit mocked, and in letters written by hands which the almighty Maker and Preserver had endowed so supereminently. Their hands are mouldering; dust has returned to dust; but where are the immortal spirits which directed those hands to scatter poison abroad? It is not for us to inquire or judge. Let us, ourselves, be watchful, and let our hands be clean in the sight of God; let us be diligent in business, serving the Lord; let us fight the good fight of faith, and lay hold on eternal life!Though we have described the hand as the great and main organ of touch, let it be understood that it is not the first called into operation. The hand requires rigid discipline; for a long period it is useless as an organ of tact; yet, when educated, how perfect, how precise! But it is made what it is by education. Our ideas coincide exactly with those of sir Charles Bell, who thus writes: "The lips and the tongue are first exercised; the next motion is to put the hand to the mouth in order to suck it; and no sooner are the fingers capable of grasping, than whatever they hold is carried to the mouth; so that the sensibility to touch in the lips and tongue, and their motions, are the first inlets to knowledge, and the use of the hand is a later acquirement."Another passage from the same gifted writer is as follows: "The first office of the hand, then, is to exercise the sensibility of the mouth; and the infant as certainly questions the reality of things by that test, as the dog does by its acute sense of smelling. In the infant, the sense of the lips and tongue is resigned only in favour of the sense of vision, when that sense has improved, and offers a greater gratification, and a better means of judging of the qualities of bodies. The hand very slowly acquires the sense of touch; and many ineffectual efforts are seen in the arms and fingers of the child, before the direction of objects or their distance is ascertained. Gradually the length of the arm, and the extent ofits motions, become the measure of distance, of form, of relation, and perhaps of time."Throughout life, the sensibility, as it regards tact, of the tongue and lips continues paramount; we can feel the slenderest hair with our tongue, which our hands would not appreciate: but, on the contrary, size, form, distance, order, and the general qualities of matter, can only be gained through the hand, after a persevering discipline. A blind man may examine a statue with his hands, and pronounce upon its excellence; and this fact suggests to us an idea of sir Charles Bell, who says: "The knowledge of external bodies, as distinguished from ourselves, cannot be acquired until the organs of touch in the hand have become familiar with our own limbs. We cannot be supposed capable of exploring anything by the motion of the hand, or of judging of the form or tangible qualities of an object pressed against the skin, before we have a knowledge of our own body as distinguished from things external to us." From these remarks we naturally slide into a dissertation on a sense, allied to that of touch, but yet different—we mean muscular sense.6.Muscular sense.—God in his infinite wisdom has constructed all living things, and no doubt there is much yet for the philosopher to discover in the organization of animal bodies; there is, moreover, something that he never will understand, namely, life intrinsically considered, and the manner in which the immortalspirit and the dying body communicate with and influence each other. But though these points must ever remain a mystery, still there are those the obscurity of which science has to a certain degree dispelled, and it was reserved for a late scientific anatomist to prove to the world, that the nerves of sensation and the nerves of motion are essentially distinct, although interblended together they pervade every muscle. Hence, as this philosopher observes, (we mean sir Charles Bell,) we are sensible of the action of our muscles, because these muscles have two classes of nerves; and he found that in exciting one of these the muscle contracted, while on exciting the other no action took place. The nerve which had no power to make the muscle contract was the nerve of sensation.Continuing his experiments, he proved that there is a nervous circle connecting the muscles with the brain, that one nerve is not capable of transmitting what is called the nervous spirits in two different directions at one instant of time, but that for the regulation of muscular action there is a nerve of sensibility, to convey a sensation of the condition of the muscles to the sensorium, as well as a nerve of motion for conveying the mandate of the will to the muscles. He also demonstrated, that in their distribution through the body, the nerves which possess these two distinct powers of conveying sensation, and of exciting the muscles to contraction, are wrapped up, or, as it were, woven together in the same sheath, and that they present to theeye the single appearance of one nerve. It was only by examining the nerves at their roots, that is, where they arise from different tracts of the brain and spinal marrow, and before they coalesce, that this philosophic anatomist succeeded in demonstrating their distinct functions. In the face, the nerve of motion passes by a circuitous route, apart from the nerve of sensation, to be distributed to the muscles; and, therefore, the distinct characters of these two nerves were, as sir C. Bell asserts, more easily proved by experiment than in any other part of the body.The nerves of sensation then feel, or rather recognise, those actions of the muscles which are excited through the medium of the nerves of contraction, and these nerves of contraction, as far as the voluntary muscles are concerned, obey the commands of an immaterial being—mind, spirit, soul; in the lower animals, so far as we know, this principle is transient, for they have no ideas of life, or of death, or of futurity; but in man, the soul is immortal, and for the future bliss of this immortal essence revelation affords a certain guide.Now the sense of touch and the muscular sense have, by most writers, been confounded together; hence, we are told that weight is determined by touch, but this is erroneous; it is determined by the muscular agency and sense, under the dictation of the will. The abbé Nollet says of touch, that "it not only puts it in our power to judge of what makes animpression upon us, but also of what resists our impulsions." Here the sense of touch and the muscular sense are confounded together. The agency of touch has nothing to do with weight or resistance; and herein we differ from Dr. Fleming, and agree with sir Charles Bell, by whom, indeed, this muscular sense was first demonstrated. To feel, or touch, is not to resist or struggle. Laocoon, striving with the serpents, resists—his muscular sense is called into action, as is that of the wrestler when engaged in a trial of skill or strength; but what has muscular feeling to do with that tact, which distinguishes between the texture of tissues, or the smoothness or roughness of bodies? For ourselves, we refer the sensations of hardness and softness rather to a muscular sense than a simple sense of touch; but, as we have said, the sense of touch and the muscular sense, or sense of resistance, inter-amalgamate with each other, nevertheless, there is a definite muscular sense of which every one is conscious, and it is by the education of this sense that the infant learns to walk, the man to ascend the lofty ladder, or traverse the ledge of the precipice. It is not connected with feeling alone, but also with sight; and, indeed, the senses of sight, feeling and support, or resistance, are in as close relationship, as are those of smell and taste. This is exemplified in the fencer, whose muscular sense obeys his eye, and in the artist, who strikes out the bold outline of a figure on the canvass.This muscular sense is sometimes called thesense of motion; and rightly, because it is a feeling of muscular action; not a feeling of extraneous bodies, but a feeling of what passes within ourselves, as far as such feeling is permitted (many internal operations go on without our consciousness)—a feeling of what we do, according to our will, and the permission of God Almighty. Does the uninstructed man, who looks upon and admires a lovely landscape, think about the inverted picture on his retina? No. Does the athlete who lifts a great weight think of the biceps, or the deltoid, or the pectoral muscles? No. But does he not feel, while he strives, while he struggles, while he runs, an internal consciousness of action totally distinct from touch?This perception is termed by sir Charles Bell the "muscular sense." He thus illustrates his idea: "When a blind man, or a man with his eyes shut, stands upright, neither leaning upon nor touching aught, by what means is it that he maintains the erect position? The symmetry of his body is not the cause. The statue of the finest proportions must be soldered to its pedestal, or the wind will cast it down. How is it, then, that a man sustains the perpendicular posture, or inclines in a due degree towards the winds that blow upon him? It is obvious, that he has a sense by which he knows the inclination of his body, and that he has a ready aptitude to adjust it, and to correct any deviation from the perpendicular. What sense, then, is this? for he touches nothing, and seesnothing; there is no organ of sense hitherto observed which can serve him, or in any degree aid him. Is it not that sense, which is exhibited so early in the infant in the fear of falling? Is it not the full development of that property which was early shown in the struggle of the infant, while it lay in the nurse's arms? It can only be by the adjustment of muscles that the limbs are stiffened, the body firmly balanced and kept erect. There is no other source of knowledge but a sense of the degree of exertion in his muscular frame, by which a man can know the position of his body and limbs, while he has no point of vision to direct his efforts, or the contact of any external body. In truth, we stand by so fine an exercise of this power, and the muscles are, from habit, directed with so much precision and with an effort so slight, that we do not know how we stand. But if we attempt to walk on a narrow ledge, or stand in a situation where we are in danger of falling, or rest on one foot, we become then subject to apprehension; the actions of the muscles are, as it were, magnified, and demonstrative of the degree in which they are excited."We are sensible of the position of our limbs; we know that the arms hang by the sides, or that they are raised and held out, although we touch nothing and see nothing. It must be a property internal to the frame by which we thus know the position of the members of our body; and what can it be but aconsciousness of the degree of action, and of the adjustment of the muscles? At one time, I entertained a doubt whether this proceeded from a knowledge of the condition of the muscles, or from a consciousness of the degree of effort which was directed to them in volition. It was with a view to elucidate this that I made the observations which terminated in the discovery that every muscle had two nerves; one for sensation, and one to convey the mandate of the will, and direct its action. I had reasoned in this manner: we awake with a knowledge of the position of our limbs; this cannot be from a recollection of the action which placed them where they are; it must, therefore, be a consciousness of their present condition. When a person in these circumstances moves, he has a determined object, and he must be conscious of a previous condition before he can desire a change, or direct a movement."In walking, riding, swimming, and other bodily exercises; in writing, playing on the piano, or any other instrument of music, the muscular sense is called into activity, and co-operates with the senses of sight, touch, etc. Muscular exertion is in itself pleasurable, when not pushed too far; and, indeed, the healthy condition, both of the body and mind, results from muscular exertion, and the alternations of activity and repose. The appointment of man, after the fall, to a life of labour, was a judgment tempered by mercy. Man is not destined to lead a life of sloth or supineness, but, urgedon by his natural wants, he cultivates the ground, he tames the wild beast of the forest or mountain, he builds houses, he constructs ships, he clothes himself with fabrics, he surrounds himself with the comforts, the decencies, the luxuries of life, and in every work which his hands find to do his muscular sense is in requisition; it is this sense which appreciates resistance, which enables us to balance our bodies, to move with gracefulness, to run, to walk, to leap, to throw the shuttle with precision, or wield the hammer with skill. It is improved by education; the child learns first to walk, and then to run and leap, and in due time to know its own strength, and also the best mode of employing that strength, without reflecting upon the laws of mechanics, or any philosophic theories. It is evident, then, that we have "a perception of the condition of the muscles previous to the exercise of the will," and that with respect to the hand, "it is not more the freedom of its action which constitutes its perfection, than the knowledge which we have of these motions, and our consequent ability to direct it with the utmost precision."That the lower animals are endowed with this muscular sense cannot be doubted. It enables the tiger to spring with accuracy upon his prey, the cat upon the mouse, the greyhound in pursuit of the hare when to make the fatal snap, and the horse to leap the fence, which his eye tells him is within his power; it teaches the loris to creep upon its victim, as slowly butas surely as the hand on the clock-face traverses the dial-plate, and attains the given number; it is immediately connected with instinct, and man, when he steps aside to avoid a threatened stroke, or raises his arm to parry a blow, puts the muscular sense into exercise.The muscular sense is, to use a homely expression, an every-day working sense; touch and sight are its prime supporters, and to these in turn it lends its aid. Nevertheless, to a certain degree it is independent of them; the infant seeks the breast as it were by an instinctive impulse, or applies the coral to its mouth; and in the dark as well as in the light, we transmit our food directly and precisely to the organs of mastication and deglutition, without thinking upon the manner in which the varied actions are performed, or even transiently noting them. Wewillto perform an act within our power of achievement, and by the complicated action of muscles, nerves, vessels, and bones, we accomplish our object, at the same time, perchance, we know not the origin and insertion of a single muscle, the direction of a single nerve, the course of a single artery.The muscular sense is, in fact, in perpetual exercise; it is intimately connected with self-consciousness, for we feel that we corporeally exist, that other bodies exist around us, that they resist us, that they lead us to calculate our own powers, nor will all the arguments of the school of Berkeley convince us that we exist only in idea. When Dr. Johnson stampedupon the ground to disprove Berkeley's idea, he was right.So much for the senses with which we are endowed, and the information which the mind receives through their respective channels. They teach us all that we know concerning the qualities of matter, and they subserve many of our enjoyments—they are essential to our comfort, our activity, our usefulness; but we gain through their medium no abstract truths, no determinate principles. These are elaborated in the mind itself by its own self-analysis; but, then, they do not teach us our own position as it respects time and eternity. The wisest of the heathens of Greece or Rome lived in doubt, entangled in the mazes of a vain system of philosophy; and though they might believe in a god, or in gods, deducing their arguments as to the existence of an all-powerful Being from the works of nature, and from that internal conviction which seems common to the human race—they knew nothing of His attributes, of his laws, of his requirements, of man's fallen nature, of the intrinsic sinfulness of the heart, of the means of grace, of a hope of glory. They could write noble poems, deep philosophic treatises, histories of empires, narratives of events, details of characters, descriptions of works of art; they could carve statues of matchless perfection, and build temples of surpassing splendour. They displayed an intellectual pre-eminence, which still sheds a lustre over the civilized world. Who by searching can findout God? Unless God graciously reveals himself to us, a true knowledge of him in our fallen state is impossible; the capabilities of our minds are, after all, but limited; and though, through reflection on the evidences of our senses, we may come to the conclusion that there is an omnipotent Power, we remain in ignorance as to what that Power is, and as to our relationship thereunto. Hence, then, the necessity of information beyond what the mind can gain through the senses, or by its own reflex operations; we are conscious of our position as respects the lower animals, and we have natural longings after and hopes of immortality; the soul whispers to itself,Non omnis moriar, I shall not all die; but here, were it not for revelation—a revelation from God, we should be left in darkness.God gave a revelation of his will to Adam; our first parents transgressed, but then in mercy a promise was given, that the seed of the woman should bruise the serpent's head. God gave a further revelation of his will to Moses, with promises and commands, and elected from among the nations a peculiar people, of whom from the line of Jesse after the flesh should arise the Messiah; in Him are all the promises and prophecies centred, and through him the great revelation of God's purposes of mercy to a fallen world was ordained to be published. The Messiah came; He of whom Isaiah prophesied; the despised and rejected of men—God manifest in the flesh. The prophet'swords were verified, "He was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed."[23][23]Isa. liii. 5.This is the Christian revelation, which, while it shows us our lost and sinful nature, our utter unworthiness, and the insufficiency of good works for salvation—whilst it humbles our pride, and self-sufficiency, and teaches that our place before God is in the dust, yet it speaks of joy and peace, for it points out what is all-important, the mode of redemption, the forgiveness of our sins, our adoption as heirs of the kingdom of heaven. "In this was manifested the love of God toward us, because that God sent his only begotten Son into the world, that we might live through him."[24]God reveals himself in his works as a God of wisdom and power; but here he discovers himself as a God of truth, justice, and mercy. He reveals himself as the triune Jehovah, the Father, the Son, and the Spirit, one God for evermore; and he gives us a revelation of the plan of salvation. And what is this plan? it is one by which justice and mercy are reconciled. "Without shedding of blood is no remission" of sins. The Son of God, according to the Divine promise, took upon himself our human nature, dwelt upon earth, sinless, and offered himself up as a sacrifice for sin on Calvary. He "who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God: but made himself of no reputation,and took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men: and being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross. Wherefore God also hath highly exalted him, and given him a name which is above every name: that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth; and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father."[25][24]1 John iv. 9.[25]Philippians ii. 6-11.Of the sacrifice of Christ, the crowning sacrifice, those of the Mosaic ritual were types or emblems. By his sacrifice the claims of the law were satisfied. What is required of us? Belief in the atonement. "Jesus said unto Martha, I am the resurrection and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die."[26]A true, living, justifying faith is the gift of the Holy Spirit, who sanctifies and renews the heart of the genuine believer. "The carnal mind is enmity against God: for it is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be;" but when the mind is enlightened by grace Divine, the awfulness of sin is perceived and deeply felt, true repentance is awakened, love and gratitude to God for every mercy are excited, and the soul is warmed with adoration. Then does the converted man become prayerful and watchful; then is hezealous in God's cause, and anxious for the conversion of those that live in the darkness of ignorance, and travel along the broad road that leadeth to destruction. Then will he be patient and trustful under trials and affliction, and justify God's dealings with man.[26]John xi. 25, 26.Such are the truths revealed by God himself, which through nothing but direct revelation could have enlightened, cheered, animated, and guided the human affections and will. Man, as an immortal being, has not been left to himself. True it is, that there are many nations still in darkness, and some in the most degraded ignorance. To ask why this is so, is to ask the reasons which determine God in his purposes; we see as in a glass darkly, and the deep things of God are hidden from our eyes; but we are assured that the time will come when all nations shall know the Lord, and Christ shall reign in fulness of glory. Let us be thankful if our trust is in Christ, if he is in us the hope of glory, for "eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him."We have sufficiently shown the necessity of a revelation to man relative to things essential to his eternal interest, but of which he could gain no knowledge by his own mental exertions. We know by internal conviction that we are immortal beings; but unguided by revelation, we shall look forward to the future with anxiety, with a sort of vague apprehension, but revelationdispels anxiety, and fills us with all "joy and peace in believing."Dr. Abercrombie, in his work on the Intellectual Powers, says: "There is thus, in the consciousness of every man, a deep impression of continued existence. The casuist may reason against it till he bewilder himself in his own sophistries; but a voice within gives the lie to his vain speculations, and pleads with authority for a life which is to come. The sincere and humble inquirer cherishes the impression while he seeks for further light on a subject so momentous; and he thus receives with absolute conviction the truth which beams upon him from the revelation of God, that the mysterious part of his being, which thinks, and wills, and reasons, shall, indeed, survive the wreck of its mortal tenement, and is destined for immortality."How mysterious is the union between mind and matter! how little we know of ourselves! how shallow is our deepest philosophy! We know that the mind is that part of our being which thinks and wills, reasons and remembers, but we know nothing of it except from these functions. "By means of the corporeal senses it holds intercourse with the things of the external world, and receives impressions from them, but of this connexion also we know nothing but the facts; when we attempt to speculate upon its nature and cause, we wander at once from the path of philosophical inquiry into conjectures, which are as far beyond the proper sphere asthey are beyond the reach of human faculties. The object of true science on such a subject, therefore, is simply to investigate the facts or relations of phenomena, respecting the operations of mind itself, and the intercourse which it carries on with the external world."In a philosophic point of view, all our knowledge of the world around us is referable to the operations of the mind on the impressions conveyed to it through the senses, that is, perception. Nevertheless, in point of fact, the knowledge which is acquired by an individual through perception and mental agency, as reflection, memory, etc., is but a small part of what he possesses; it is to the perception and mental labour of others that he owes the great mass of knowledge he is gifted with. Generation after generation has contributed to accumulate a store of facts, a treasury of thoughts and reflections, to which succeeding generations have added, leaving them as a legacy to generations yet to come, who will contribute in their turn to the stock, and bequeath the treasure to their successors. Thus are we enriched by the labour of others, and not altogether by our own experience.Herein is a wide hiatus between man and the most sagacious of brutes. The brute gains all from personal experience; no generation can build upon the foundation left by a preceding generation—but man can; and it is no objection to allege, that some races remain in a savage state for ages; they possess thepower, the capability, the mental constitution, which the brute does not. Besides, they do improve under favourable circumstances. What were the Anglo-Saxon marauders, our own ancestors? Savages. Is England now a savage country? What were the Celtic British in Cæsar's time? Savages. Were they savages when the Romans had held possession of the island for three hundred years? No; they had adopted the arts, the manners, the civilization of their conquerors. How this very fact of the capability of man to give and receive knowledge demonstrates his superiority in creation! It is true that the human intellect is limited, and that there are mysteries into which he cannot penetrate; nor is it needful for his welfare, his improvement, his happiness, his hopes of a joyful immortality, that he should be able to do so. Let him rely on the oracles of God. Mysteries, indeed, surround him. How fluently does he talk about matter, yet he knows nothing about it, excepting what he gains through his senses; and this knowledge is limited to certain qualities, which may be termed primary and secondary. The primary qualities of material bodies are in themselves essentials, namely, solidity and extension. We cannot conceive of matter, without an involvement of these two properties. The secondary qualities of matter are colour, texture, temperature, smell, taste, etc., properties which differ in different bodies, and which are fluctuating, changeable, uncertain. Of these, and otherproperties of matter, as motion, sound, lightness, or heaviness, etc., our senses are the external tests, though mind is, in reality, the discriminator."Our first knowledge of the existence and properties of the material world is evidently of a complex nature. It seems to arise from the combined action of several senses, conveying to us the general notion of certain essences, which are solid and extended, or possessed of those properties which characterize material things. Without this general knowledge previously acquired, our various senses, acting individually, could convey to us no definite notion of the properties of external things. A smell, that is a mere odour, for example, might be perceived by us, but would convey nothing more than the sensation simply. It could not communicate the impression of this being a property of an external body, until we had previously acquired a knowledge of the existence of that body, and had come by observation to associate the sensation with the body from which it proceeds. The same holds true of the other senses, and we are thus led at the very first step of our inquiries to a complicated process of mind, without which our mere sensations could convey to us no definite knowledge."[27][27]Abercrombie.Here, then, we conclude. Let us give thanks and praise to that God who has made us what we are—instruments of countless strings, all inharmony, the music of which reaches the soul, and in the secret recesses of the mind is there analyzed, reflected upon, compared, and stored up as knowledge. We feel, we see, we hear, we smell, we taste, we resist; we are assured of our own individuality; we are conscious of our own existence, and we know that all around is external to our own individuality. That sense of individuality is in the mind, and we have within us the assurance of immortality. Let us look to Him, who is the Saviour from an immortality of despair, that at the day of judgment we may be found clothed in his robe of righteousness, the garment of salvation.
"The breezy fragrance of the morn"—
"The breezy fragrance of the morn"—
to forget the trials of life, and muse upon a still brighter world, where the flowers perish not, where storms come not, and where winter is unknown. Thus, to our bodily health do our senses administer; and thus the sense of smell calls us from the close room of the populous city, into the fresh air of the country—from the crowded town,
"Where houses thick and sewers annoy the air,"
"Where houses thick and sewers annoy the air,"
to issue forth on a summer's morn, and breathe the pure air redolent of sweetest odours.
When overpoweringly offensive effluvia disgust us, we endeavour to stop our breath—we breathe at protracted intervals, take in as little air as possible, and endeavour to escape from the infected locality; but do we flee away from the gale bearing the scent of the honey-suckle, the bean-field, or the new-mown hay? It is, indeed, rather to our pleasures, to our mental enjoyment, to our delight, or to our disgust and abhorrence, that our sense of smelladministers. We depend little upon it for our discrimination between things acting as poison, and things nutritious or wholesome. How pleasant is the smell of laurel-water or prussic acid—how dull and insipid the smell of wheaten flour! We must not, then, always be guided by our sense of smell, although in general it serves us as a monitor.
The sense of smell is intimately combined with that of taste; indeed, it is a powerful auxiliary to it, for, as a learned writer well observes, "taste, without the aid of smell, would be very vague in its indications, and limited in its range." Nevertheless, savage people, in whom the sense of smell is far more acute than in civilized races, do not appear to possess a greater refinement of taste—indeed, what the former regard as delicacies would be rejected by the latter with abhorrence. Most quadrupeds possess the sense of smell in far greater perfection than man, and are evidently influenced by it in their choice or rejection of food. In the carnivorous tribes this sense is, perhaps, at its highest ratio, and many pursue their prey guided by their olfactory organs alone.
Certain odours are agreeable to some few animals, irrespective of food; but on this point our range of information is limited. The cat delights in the scent of valerian, and some other herbs, although they are not among the articles of this animal's diet; yet to the cat and the dog, the odour of the sweetest flowers yields no pleasure. Birds, in general, are endowed withthe sense of smell in a far lower degree than quadrupeds, and the olfactory organs are far less developed. Birds of prey are guided by their keen powers of vision, and, indeed, if we are to trust to the experiments of Audubon, the sense of smell even in the carrion-loving vulture, contrary to the opinion of the ancients, as well as of modern naturalists, is at a low ratio; for, as he asserts, the stuffed skin of an animal will attract a vulture from its "pride of place," in the upper regions of the air. It is true that this assertion has been contradicted by Mr. Waterton, but it is again confirmed by the experiments and observations of Mr. Bachman, which are recorded in Loudon's Magazine of Natural History, viii. 167; and M. Levuillant seems to have considered that it is by the eye chiefly, if not exclusively, that the vulture obtains its disgusting food. The following observations from the proceedings of the Zoological Society will be here, perhaps, not unacceptable:—
March 14th, 1837.—"A paper was read on the habits of theVultur Aura, by Mr. W. Sells, with notes of the dissections of the heads of two specimens, by Mr. R. Owen. The writer states, that this bird is found in great abundance in the island of Jamaica, where it is known by the name ofJohn Crow; and so valuable are its services in the removal of carrion and animal filth, that the legislature have imposed a fine of £5 upon any one destroying it within a stated distance of the principal towns.Its ordinary food is carrion, but when pressed hard with hunger, it will seize upon young fowls, rats, and snakes. After noticing the highly offensive odour emitted from the eggs of this bird when broken, Mr. Sells relates the following instances which have come under his own personal observation, for the purpose of proving that theVultur Aurapossesses the sense of smell in a very acute degree.
"It has been questioned whether the vulture discovers its food by means of the organ of smell or that of sight. I apprehend that its powers of vision are very considerable, and of most important use; but that it is principally from highly organized olfactories that it so speedily receives intelligence of where the savoury morsel is to be found, will plainly appear by the following facts. In hot climates, the burial of the dead commonly takes place in about twenty-four hours after death, and that necessarily, so rapidly does decomposition take place. On one occasion, I had to make apost mortemexamination of a body within twenty hours after death, in a mill-house completely concealed, and while so engaged the roof of the mill-house was thickly studded with these birds. Another instance was that of an old patient and much valued friend, who died at midnight; the family had to send for necessaries for the funeral to Spanish Town, distant thirty miles, so that the interment could not take place until noon of the second day, or thirty-six hours after his decease, long before which time—and a mostpainful sight it was—the ridge of the shingled roof of his house, a large mansion of but one floor, had a number of these melancholy heralds of death perched thereon, beside many more which had settled in trees in its immediate vicinity. In these cases, the birds must have been directed by smell alone, as sight was totally out of the question.
"In opposition to the above opinion, it has been stated by Mr. Audubon, that vultures and other birds of prey possess the sense of smell in a very inferior degree to carnivorous quadrupeds, and that, so far from guiding them to their prey from a distance, it affords them no indication of its presence even when at hand. In confirmation of this opinion, he relates, that he stuffed the skin of a deer full of hay, and placed it in a field; in a few minutes a vulture lighted near it, and directly proceeded to attack it, but finding no eatable food, he at length quitted it. And he further relates, that a dead dog was concealed in a narrow ravine, twenty feet below the surface of the earth around it, and filled with briers and high canes; that many vultures were seen sailing over the spot, but none discovered it. I may remark upon the above experiments, that, in the first case, the stag was doubtlessseenby the birds, but it does not follow that they might not also have smelt the hide, although inodorous to the human nose; in the second case, the birds had been undoubtedly attracted by thesmell, however embarrassed they might have been by the concealment ofthe object which caused it. I have, in many hundred instances, seen the vulture feeding upon small objects under rocks, bushes, and in other situations, where it was utterly impossible that the bird could have discovered them but through the sense of smell; and we are to recollect, that the habit of the vulture is that of soaring aloft in the air, and not that of foraging upon the ground."
To this account are appended the details of a minute comparison, by professor Owen, of the olfactory nerves and the olfactory branch of the fifth pair in theVultur Aura, with those of the common turkey and the goose. The learned anatomist concludes by saying, "the above notes show that the vulture has a well-developed organ of smell, but whether he finds his prey by that sense alone, or in what degree it assists, anatomy is not so well calculated to explain as experiment."
It is far from being impossible that Mr. Waterton and Mr. Wells on one side, and Mr. Audubon and his party on the other, may be both correct, for in different species of vulture the power of smell may greatly differ; we know that it does among carnivorous quadrupeds, which seek their prey, some chiefly by sight, others by their acuteness of scent. Among reptiles, the sense of smell appears to be at a low ratio, nor can we suppose that it is acute in fishes. In fact, in fishes the nasal cavities are rudimental, and do not communicate with the organs of respiration. They arenothing more than blind sacs, placed one on each side in front of the head, with two external openings appertaining to each sac. The principal entrance is valvular, and on a curiously plaited membrane in the sac itself, or on tufted or arborescent filaments, are the ramifications of the olfactory nerves distributed. That fishes are attracted or repelled by the odorous effluvia of bodies, diffused either through the water itself or through the air which the water contains, is too well ascertained to be denied. Fishes, in fact, are attracted by certain odoriferous substances, and anglers often use baits impregnated with some volatile oil.[20]
[20]On this subject see Izaak Walton's "Complete Angler."
We cannot for a moment doubt that insects smell; that ants and bees are greatly directed by this sense in their search after food; that carrion-loving beetles are thereby guided from a distance to their repast; that the flesh-fly is led to putrescent animal substances; and we know that the flesh-fly is sometimes deceived by the smell of certain plants emitting a cadaverous odour, and deposits her eggs upon them, the larvæ perishing for want of proper food. In what organ the senses of smell in insects are placed does not appear very plain, and the like observation applies to thecrustacea, as crabs and lobsters, for which baited traps are set, and into which they are allured by their sense of smell.
No distinct organs of smell have been discovered in the mollusca, yet it is incontestablethat some of these creatures are capable of appreciating odours. We cannot suppose that in the highly-organized and savage cuttle-fish this sense is wanting; and we know that snails and slugs are attracted from a distance by the odour of the favourite plants or fruits on which they feed. The garden slugs are fond of animal food, as we can testify, and they will pick bones with relish; we have seen the hollow of a marrow-bone thrown into the garden filled the next morning with slugs, which had completely cleaned it.
Whether the bivalve mollusks, as mussels, oysters, clams, etc., have any definite sense of smell, we cannot ascertain, but we conjecture that they are endowed with the sense of taste, for they know what to accept and what to refuse.
We have said that man derives pleasure or disgust from the exercise of the sense of smell, and is greatly directed thereby what to choose and what to avoid; yet this sense harmonizes with those of sight, hearing, and more particularly of taste, to render this world delightful to us, if we use God's gifts aright. Has he not scattered the loveliest flowers in garden and meadow? Has he not created fruits that gratify alike the sight, the touch, the taste, and the smell? Has he not spread the beauties of nature around us? Was not the garden of Eden prepared for our first parents? Yes; but sin has entered the world, and over flower and fruit has been the "trail of the serpent."
A few passages from the Scriptures, on whichwe need not comment, will serve to show the figurative notice of, or reference to this sense by the sacred writers, in order to influence the mind of man through an appeal to his own sensations. "An odour of a sweet smell, a sacrifice acceptable, well-pleasing to God," Phil. iv. 18. Works pleasing to the Lord, deeds of charity and mercy, done by the believer as a testimony of his lively faith, and a proof to the world that faith engenders good works; such works, and not those of the pharisee, are an odour acceptable to God. "Walk in love, as Christ also hath loved us, and hath given himself for us an offering and a sacrifice to God for a sweet-smelling savour," Eph. v. 2. Let us, who call ourselves Christians, so walk, that our conduct before men may be after the pattern of Him, who, in love to a fallen race, offered himself as a sacrifice fragrant unto God the Father, that we might escape the sword of justice. When Noah offered burnt-offerings on the altar, "the Lord smelled a sweet savour," Gen. viii. 21; and to Him even now, O reader, will be fragrant true penitence and faith in that Mediator, of whom the sacrifices under the primitive dispensation were but types, and in this sense only did they waft incense to the throne of the Almighty! The language is altogether figurative; but how pertinent to our feelings, and therefore how clear to our understanding, and how forcible!
5.Touch.—Of all the senses, not one is soimportant to us as that of tact or touch. It is the foundation, as it were, of all our knowledge of the material world, and according to their elevation in the scale of being do animals enjoy this sense in greater perfection, and possess organs in which it is more especially concentrated. We here distinguish, between mere feeling and touch. We consider the wings of the bat, and the antennæ of insects, rather as feelers than as organs of exact appreciation. The sense of feeling is diffused over the whole surface of our body; but the sense of touch, so far as man is concerned, resides in the hand, and especially in the pulpy tips of the fingers.
It is true that we use the word feel when we test the qualities of bodies with our hands, and in this sense our hands are feelers. But we derive a knowledge from the use of our hands, which no other animal derives from the exercise of any organ of tact it may possess. Nor is this to be wondered at, for in all other animals tact or touch administers only to their physical necessities. For example, the sense of touch in the pulpy end of the beak of the snipe or woodcock must be exquisite—multitudinous are the nerves supplying that part—for even the soft worm or larva in the oozy ground is felt, and the finger of man would most probably fail here; but in man the sense of touch appeals to the mind, and communicates mental pleasure, mental instruction, or even mental disquietude. Even as discords in music, or grating sounds,such as the filing of a saw, or the rubbing of cork against a wall, excite the nervous system through the mind, so does the sense of touch disturb the mind and body when that which is touched is discordant. A lady of the writer's acquaintance, by no means timid, and by no means afraid of snakes, was induced to let a common snake glide through her hand; she bore the sensation with firmness, but she nearly fainted when the snake had crept through her grasp, and described the working of the reptile's ribs and abdominal plates as communicating an indescribable sensation. Yet that snake was a sort of pet, and she used to stroke its head, and feel its lambent tongue quiver against her hand. She was not afraid, but the sensation jarred like discordant notes.
Were persons to write down their experiences of the pleasing and unpleasing sensations derived through the medium of the different senses, and were those notes collected together, we should have a mass of most interesting and instructive information, well worthy the study of a physiologist. After all, however, the sense of touch or tact gives less pleasure to man than that of sight, hearing, taste, or smell; it appreciates neither colours nor harmony, nor the flavour of luscious viands, nor the odour of flowers and perfumes; but it communicates greatly to his store of information. It is a "matter of fact" sense, and though an old poet has said—
"Have you felt the wool of the beaver,Or swan's down, ever?"
"Have you felt the wool of the beaver,Or swan's down, ever?"
it is not one of the senses which figure on the page of poetry or romance.
We discriminate, then, between the sense of touch and that of mere feeling. Most probably all animals, even the lowest mollusks, feel,—nay, even animals in which no nerves are to be discovered, as the acalephæ, or jelly fishes; but touch is a refinement upon feeling, which is restricted within certain zoological bounds. A learned writer says: "The conditions on which the perfection of the sense of touch depends are, first, an abundant provision of soft papillæ, supplied with numerous nerves; secondly, a certain degree of fineness in the cuticle; thirdly, a soft cushion of a cellular substance beneath the skin; fourthly, a hard resisting basis, such as that which is provided in the nails of the human fingers; and lastly, it is requisite that the organ be so constructed as to be capable of being readily applied, in a variety of directions, to the unequal surfaces of bodies, for the closer the contact, the more accurate will be the perceptions conveyed. In forming an estimate of the degree of perfection in which the sense is exercised in any particular animal, we must accordingly take into account the mobility, the capability of flexion, and the figure of the parts employed as organs of touch."[21]
[21]Dr. Roget.
This is decidedly true as regards the higher orders of creation; but let us look at insects—do not bees, and wasps, and flies feel? can wewatch a fly brushing its head and wings, and rubbing its little paws against each other, without an assurance that it enjoys the sense of touch? and what shall we say of the spider, that feels at each thread, and "lives along its line?" Surely its sense of touch must be sufficiently acute; yet it is limited to a certain given object, and the spider gains only that information which bears upon its animal necessities. But the sense of touch gives to man a number of the properties of matter, which he retains as abstract ideas, such as dimension, form, condition of surface, hardness, softness, elasticity, compressibility, fluidity, quiescence, motion. In many and most important respects it assists the eye; and, indeed, the senses of sight and of touch appear to be correctors and supporters of each other. As in the case of every other sense, accuracy is greatly improved by habit, yet the qualities of matter, under the dominion of touch, are ascertained in so correct a manner that we are scarcely ever deceived by the knowledge thus acquired.
Dr. Fleming, in his "Philosophy of Zoology," thus writes: "The sense of touch appears in man to be able to obtain nearly all the information, with regard to external objects, which it is capable of receiving. In a few instances, the lower animals surpass us in the delicacy of the sense, as the bat, which is warned indirectly by its aid of the presence of bodies previous to coming in contact with them. The feelers of insects are likewise betteradapted for exploring the condition of the surface of bodies than any organ which we possess. But in all these the sensibility of touch is limited to particular qualities, or confined within narrow bounds. The human hand, on the contrary, by its motions, the pliability and strength of the fingers, and their softness, is the most extensive and perfect organ of touch possessed by any animal."
The accuracy of the sense of touch is greatly improved by habit; and when its resources are in constant demand, as in the instance of persons deprived of sight, or born blind, its discriminating powers are wonderfully increased. The same observation applies also to the sense of hearing, which in blind persons generally is extremely acute and accurate in its perceptions. In a Monthly Volume, published by the Religious Tract Society, and entitled "Comparisons of Structure in Animals: the Hand and the Arm," the reader will find a general account of the structure and uses of the anterior limbs of man and the lower animals, and of the substitutes for the hand, as an organ of touch and prehension, with which many of the latter are provided.
Dr. Fleming regards the "sense of heat" as distinct from that of touch, and, in fact, as claiming to be one of the senses. "The sense of touch," he writes, "is exclusively occupied with examinations of the conditions of resistance. Contact, therefore, is indispensably requisite for enabling the organ to act upon theobject, and muscular exertion to examine its condition. Neither of these is necessary to enable the sense of heat to act. Caloric rays emanate from a heated body, though at a distance; and in order to ascertain their direction and intensity no muscular effort is required. When the heated body happens to be in contact with us, we in like manner examine its conditions in reference to temperature without any muscular exertions, or, rather, we try to avoid them. Thus, when I lay my hand upon the table to examine its hardness or smoothness, I make an obvious muscular effort with my fingers; but when I lay my hand upon the table to examine its temperature, I endeavour to check all motion, so as to keep my hand in the same position. These qualities of the sense of heat sufficiently distinguish it from that of touch, with which it has been confounded, and justify its establishment as a distinct power of perception."
It is true that we cannot test caloric by the touch, but it does not appear to us that an appreciation of caloric involves any other sense than that of ordinary cutaneous feeling; the feeling of heat or cold is a mere sensation, agreeable or painful as circumstances may be, and it is natural that we should wish to experience that temperature which is most congenial to us. We say that marble is cold and wood warm, yet both may be of the same temperature; but the marble produces a sensation of coolness, because it rapidly abstracts caloric from the partapplied to it; the skin is, in fact, a very imperfect thermometer, yet sufficient for all ordinary purposes. It conceals the machinery of our bodies, giving beauty of outline and appearance, and being provided with a most minute network of nerves of sensation, it gives us warning by the pain experienced of what things are to be avoided. "A burned child dreads the fire" is an old saying, and a boy who has been stung by a nettle will not rashly meddle with the plant again.
All our senses require training and education; they are taught, even as we are taught language. It is some time before the infant sees distinctly, or forms any idea of size, proportion, or distance; long before it hears accurately, and understands a word of speech; longer still before it discriminates between musical notes; it is long before delicious odours are relished, and long before there is much distinction of flavour in food, for instinct directs the infant to its mother's breast, and for many a year sweet viands are chiefly acceptable. Habit, exercise, practice, then improve the power and acuteness of the senses, but simple feeling is blunted by habit and exercise.
It is, we think, Mr. Lane who tells us, that in Egypt and elsewhere, persons who have hoarded wealth are in the habit of inflicting the bastinado on themselves, increasing the number of strokes by degrees, in order to inure themselves to a mode of extortion of which they are constantly in dread. They hope to be able toweary out their tormentors, or convince them by endurance of their poverty, and so preserve their bags of gold and silver. Idolatrous devotees in India accustom themselves to self-inflicted torture, and feel much less than we might suppose; nay, even in our own country, in times of spiritual darkness, when by mortification and penance men hoped to merit heaven, how many have worn a shirt of horsehair till custom had made it no hardship! The ancient Britons bore, almost unclothed, the severities of winter; and we have read a story, but where we cannot recollect, to the following purport:—A North American Indian was asked, how, nearly naked as he was, he bore with such ease the summer's heat and the winter's cold; he asked the inquirer, how his face, exposed to the weather, endured the changes. My face, said the white man, is hardened to it; and I, retorted the red man, am face all over.
We have said it is long before an infant is in the full use of its bodily senses: now with regard to feeling the infant is acutely sensitive; but who ever saw a child of a few months old examine the qualities of objects by the touch? it cannot even manipulate; it cannot use its hands; it has to learn the art of touch, and to improve by practice and the exercise of the mind. For example, some persons will pass a piece of silk or cloth between their fingers, and tell you its quality; and so with respect to other things; this is the result of attention and exercise.
No one is born without the organization necessary for the development of the sense of touch, for if the arms and hands be deficient, some other part, as the lips or tongue, will take up the function, and this alone shows what education effects; but if a person be born deaf, or blind, or incapable of taste and smell, (which latter appears to be very rare, if, indeed, the case ever occur,) no other part can supply the loss; but the loss, as far as the sight at least is concerned, is partly compensated for by the elevation of the sense of touch; and in this we see the immediate bearing of these two senses on each other.
The boy born blind, upon whom Cheselden so successfully operated, believed, when first he saw, that the objects touched his eyes, as the things which he felt touched his skin; consequently he had no idea of distance. "He did not know the form of any object, nor could he distinguish one object from another, however different their figure or size might be; when objects were shown to him which he had known formerly by the touch, he looked at them with attention, and observed them carefully, in order to know them again; but as he had too many objects to retain at once, he forgot the greater part of them, and when he first learned, as he said, to see and to know objects, he forgot a thousand for one that he recollected. It was two months before he discovered that pictures represented solid bodies; until that time he had considered them as planes and surfaces differentlycoloured, and diversified by a variety of shades; but when he began to conceive that these pictures represented solid bodies, in touching the canvass of a picture with his hand he expected to find something in reality solid upon it, and he was much astonished when, on touching those parts which seemed round and unequal, he found them flat and smooth like the rest. He asked which was the sense that deceived him—the sight or the touch. There was shown to him a little portrait of his father, which was in the case of his mother's watch; he said that he knew very well that it was the resemblance of his father, but he asked with great astonishment how it was possible for so large a visage to be kept in so small a space, as that appeared to him as impossible as that a bushel could be contained in a pint."[22]
[22]Phil. Trans., 1728.
In the Philosophical Transactions of 1826 will be found the account of a case by Mr. Wardrop, which is very interesting; it is that of an intelligent female of mature age, who was born blind; in her infancy, operations were performed on both of her eyes, but they failed, one eye being irrecoverably destroyed, and the other useless from closure of the pupil; on this eye Mr. Wardrop successfully operated: but it was not with joy that objects for the first time were perceived; she was confused by the appearance of a new world, now for the first time opened to her sense of sight; hitherto she had known it only through the sense of touch, and touch andsight had still to be reconciled. "On the sixth day, she said that she saw better than she had done on any preceding day, but I cannot tell (said she) what I do see; I am quite stupid. She seemed, indeed, bewildered from not being able to combine the knowledge acquired by the senses of sight and touch, and felt disappointed in not having the power of distinguishing at once by her eye, objects which she could so readily distinguish from one another by feeling them.
"The next day, on examining with the eye the tea-cups and saucers, and being asked what they were—I don't know, she replied; they look very queer to me, but I can tell in a minute when I touch them. So with an orange which was lying before her, she could make nothing of it until she actually touched it. When the experiment was made of giving her a silver pencil-case and a large key to examine with her hands, she discriminated and knew each distinctly; but when they were placed on the table side by side, though she distinguished each with her eye, yet she could not tell which was the pencil-case and which the key.
"In six weeks after the operation, she returned home. At this period, she had learned a great deal; she had acquired a pretty accurate notion of colours, but with regard to forms and distance she was still very ignorant. She had also great difficulty in directing her eye to an object, so that when she attempted to look at anything she turned her head in variousdirections, until her eye caught the object of which it was in search. She still entertained, however, the same hope, which she expressed soon after the operation, that when she got home, her knowledge of external things would be more accurate and intelligible, and that when she came to look at those objects which had been so long familiar to her touch, the confusion which the multiplicity of external objects now caused would in a great measure subside."
Thus, then, it is from an association between the senses that correctness and precision in any one sense are acquired; and especially do the eye and hand support each other, and supply each other's deficiencies till both have learned their perfect lesson. I can stretch my hand out to any object before me with certainty, so truly does the eye tell me whether it is within my reach or not, but the eye first learned that faculty from the hand, after long discipline and many trials. Afterwards the eye speaks a silent language to the hand, and is understood. Under what merciful circumstances are they placed that possess all their faculties and senses! but, alas! how many are there that never dream of thanking a merciful God for his unbounded kindness! nay, there are some atheistical materialists who believe, or rather pretend to believe, that man's exquisite organization, and that of animals and plants, is self-developed—how, they do not condescend to explain; for, granting them their premises, namely, that matter is eternal—and what then?it must be inert, and neither the laws of vitality nor chemistry, involving electricity and galvanism, could be taken on by inert particles—all would be chaotic, did not God govern, arrange, and order all. It is he who has created man, and, fallen as man is, he still is an object of God's care; for he sent his well-beloved Son into the world for our redemption, and the time is coming in which all nations shall know the Lord, and adore him in sincerity and truth.
Like all the organs of our senses, the hands are the instrument of wickedness to sinful man; his sense of touch is the inlet of evil. How refined that sense in the adroit pickpocket, but to what an ill purpose is it devoted! How dexterous are the hands of the shoplifter, but to what a wretched course have they been trained! The hand grasps the pen; every stroke is guided by its delicate sense of touch; it obeys the mind; and, oh! what dictations from the depraved mind have polluted society! God has been reviled, Jesus Christ denied, the Holy Spirit mocked, and in letters written by hands which the almighty Maker and Preserver had endowed so supereminently. Their hands are mouldering; dust has returned to dust; but where are the immortal spirits which directed those hands to scatter poison abroad? It is not for us to inquire or judge. Let us, ourselves, be watchful, and let our hands be clean in the sight of God; let us be diligent in business, serving the Lord; let us fight the good fight of faith, and lay hold on eternal life!
Though we have described the hand as the great and main organ of touch, let it be understood that it is not the first called into operation. The hand requires rigid discipline; for a long period it is useless as an organ of tact; yet, when educated, how perfect, how precise! But it is made what it is by education. Our ideas coincide exactly with those of sir Charles Bell, who thus writes: "The lips and the tongue are first exercised; the next motion is to put the hand to the mouth in order to suck it; and no sooner are the fingers capable of grasping, than whatever they hold is carried to the mouth; so that the sensibility to touch in the lips and tongue, and their motions, are the first inlets to knowledge, and the use of the hand is a later acquirement."
Another passage from the same gifted writer is as follows: "The first office of the hand, then, is to exercise the sensibility of the mouth; and the infant as certainly questions the reality of things by that test, as the dog does by its acute sense of smelling. In the infant, the sense of the lips and tongue is resigned only in favour of the sense of vision, when that sense has improved, and offers a greater gratification, and a better means of judging of the qualities of bodies. The hand very slowly acquires the sense of touch; and many ineffectual efforts are seen in the arms and fingers of the child, before the direction of objects or their distance is ascertained. Gradually the length of the arm, and the extent ofits motions, become the measure of distance, of form, of relation, and perhaps of time."
Throughout life, the sensibility, as it regards tact, of the tongue and lips continues paramount; we can feel the slenderest hair with our tongue, which our hands would not appreciate: but, on the contrary, size, form, distance, order, and the general qualities of matter, can only be gained through the hand, after a persevering discipline. A blind man may examine a statue with his hands, and pronounce upon its excellence; and this fact suggests to us an idea of sir Charles Bell, who says: "The knowledge of external bodies, as distinguished from ourselves, cannot be acquired until the organs of touch in the hand have become familiar with our own limbs. We cannot be supposed capable of exploring anything by the motion of the hand, or of judging of the form or tangible qualities of an object pressed against the skin, before we have a knowledge of our own body as distinguished from things external to us." From these remarks we naturally slide into a dissertation on a sense, allied to that of touch, but yet different—we mean muscular sense.
6.Muscular sense.—God in his infinite wisdom has constructed all living things, and no doubt there is much yet for the philosopher to discover in the organization of animal bodies; there is, moreover, something that he never will understand, namely, life intrinsically considered, and the manner in which the immortalspirit and the dying body communicate with and influence each other. But though these points must ever remain a mystery, still there are those the obscurity of which science has to a certain degree dispelled, and it was reserved for a late scientific anatomist to prove to the world, that the nerves of sensation and the nerves of motion are essentially distinct, although interblended together they pervade every muscle. Hence, as this philosopher observes, (we mean sir Charles Bell,) we are sensible of the action of our muscles, because these muscles have two classes of nerves; and he found that in exciting one of these the muscle contracted, while on exciting the other no action took place. The nerve which had no power to make the muscle contract was the nerve of sensation.
Continuing his experiments, he proved that there is a nervous circle connecting the muscles with the brain, that one nerve is not capable of transmitting what is called the nervous spirits in two different directions at one instant of time, but that for the regulation of muscular action there is a nerve of sensibility, to convey a sensation of the condition of the muscles to the sensorium, as well as a nerve of motion for conveying the mandate of the will to the muscles. He also demonstrated, that in their distribution through the body, the nerves which possess these two distinct powers of conveying sensation, and of exciting the muscles to contraction, are wrapped up, or, as it were, woven together in the same sheath, and that they present to theeye the single appearance of one nerve. It was only by examining the nerves at their roots, that is, where they arise from different tracts of the brain and spinal marrow, and before they coalesce, that this philosophic anatomist succeeded in demonstrating their distinct functions. In the face, the nerve of motion passes by a circuitous route, apart from the nerve of sensation, to be distributed to the muscles; and, therefore, the distinct characters of these two nerves were, as sir C. Bell asserts, more easily proved by experiment than in any other part of the body.
The nerves of sensation then feel, or rather recognise, those actions of the muscles which are excited through the medium of the nerves of contraction, and these nerves of contraction, as far as the voluntary muscles are concerned, obey the commands of an immaterial being—mind, spirit, soul; in the lower animals, so far as we know, this principle is transient, for they have no ideas of life, or of death, or of futurity; but in man, the soul is immortal, and for the future bliss of this immortal essence revelation affords a certain guide.
Now the sense of touch and the muscular sense have, by most writers, been confounded together; hence, we are told that weight is determined by touch, but this is erroneous; it is determined by the muscular agency and sense, under the dictation of the will. The abbé Nollet says of touch, that "it not only puts it in our power to judge of what makes animpression upon us, but also of what resists our impulsions." Here the sense of touch and the muscular sense are confounded together. The agency of touch has nothing to do with weight or resistance; and herein we differ from Dr. Fleming, and agree with sir Charles Bell, by whom, indeed, this muscular sense was first demonstrated. To feel, or touch, is not to resist or struggle. Laocoon, striving with the serpents, resists—his muscular sense is called into action, as is that of the wrestler when engaged in a trial of skill or strength; but what has muscular feeling to do with that tact, which distinguishes between the texture of tissues, or the smoothness or roughness of bodies? For ourselves, we refer the sensations of hardness and softness rather to a muscular sense than a simple sense of touch; but, as we have said, the sense of touch and the muscular sense, or sense of resistance, inter-amalgamate with each other, nevertheless, there is a definite muscular sense of which every one is conscious, and it is by the education of this sense that the infant learns to walk, the man to ascend the lofty ladder, or traverse the ledge of the precipice. It is not connected with feeling alone, but also with sight; and, indeed, the senses of sight, feeling and support, or resistance, are in as close relationship, as are those of smell and taste. This is exemplified in the fencer, whose muscular sense obeys his eye, and in the artist, who strikes out the bold outline of a figure on the canvass.
This muscular sense is sometimes called thesense of motion; and rightly, because it is a feeling of muscular action; not a feeling of extraneous bodies, but a feeling of what passes within ourselves, as far as such feeling is permitted (many internal operations go on without our consciousness)—a feeling of what we do, according to our will, and the permission of God Almighty. Does the uninstructed man, who looks upon and admires a lovely landscape, think about the inverted picture on his retina? No. Does the athlete who lifts a great weight think of the biceps, or the deltoid, or the pectoral muscles? No. But does he not feel, while he strives, while he struggles, while he runs, an internal consciousness of action totally distinct from touch?
This perception is termed by sir Charles Bell the "muscular sense." He thus illustrates his idea: "When a blind man, or a man with his eyes shut, stands upright, neither leaning upon nor touching aught, by what means is it that he maintains the erect position? The symmetry of his body is not the cause. The statue of the finest proportions must be soldered to its pedestal, or the wind will cast it down. How is it, then, that a man sustains the perpendicular posture, or inclines in a due degree towards the winds that blow upon him? It is obvious, that he has a sense by which he knows the inclination of his body, and that he has a ready aptitude to adjust it, and to correct any deviation from the perpendicular. What sense, then, is this? for he touches nothing, and seesnothing; there is no organ of sense hitherto observed which can serve him, or in any degree aid him. Is it not that sense, which is exhibited so early in the infant in the fear of falling? Is it not the full development of that property which was early shown in the struggle of the infant, while it lay in the nurse's arms? It can only be by the adjustment of muscles that the limbs are stiffened, the body firmly balanced and kept erect. There is no other source of knowledge but a sense of the degree of exertion in his muscular frame, by which a man can know the position of his body and limbs, while he has no point of vision to direct his efforts, or the contact of any external body. In truth, we stand by so fine an exercise of this power, and the muscles are, from habit, directed with so much precision and with an effort so slight, that we do not know how we stand. But if we attempt to walk on a narrow ledge, or stand in a situation where we are in danger of falling, or rest on one foot, we become then subject to apprehension; the actions of the muscles are, as it were, magnified, and demonstrative of the degree in which they are excited.
"We are sensible of the position of our limbs; we know that the arms hang by the sides, or that they are raised and held out, although we touch nothing and see nothing. It must be a property internal to the frame by which we thus know the position of the members of our body; and what can it be but aconsciousness of the degree of action, and of the adjustment of the muscles? At one time, I entertained a doubt whether this proceeded from a knowledge of the condition of the muscles, or from a consciousness of the degree of effort which was directed to them in volition. It was with a view to elucidate this that I made the observations which terminated in the discovery that every muscle had two nerves; one for sensation, and one to convey the mandate of the will, and direct its action. I had reasoned in this manner: we awake with a knowledge of the position of our limbs; this cannot be from a recollection of the action which placed them where they are; it must, therefore, be a consciousness of their present condition. When a person in these circumstances moves, he has a determined object, and he must be conscious of a previous condition before he can desire a change, or direct a movement."
In walking, riding, swimming, and other bodily exercises; in writing, playing on the piano, or any other instrument of music, the muscular sense is called into activity, and co-operates with the senses of sight, touch, etc. Muscular exertion is in itself pleasurable, when not pushed too far; and, indeed, the healthy condition, both of the body and mind, results from muscular exertion, and the alternations of activity and repose. The appointment of man, after the fall, to a life of labour, was a judgment tempered by mercy. Man is not destined to lead a life of sloth or supineness, but, urgedon by his natural wants, he cultivates the ground, he tames the wild beast of the forest or mountain, he builds houses, he constructs ships, he clothes himself with fabrics, he surrounds himself with the comforts, the decencies, the luxuries of life, and in every work which his hands find to do his muscular sense is in requisition; it is this sense which appreciates resistance, which enables us to balance our bodies, to move with gracefulness, to run, to walk, to leap, to throw the shuttle with precision, or wield the hammer with skill. It is improved by education; the child learns first to walk, and then to run and leap, and in due time to know its own strength, and also the best mode of employing that strength, without reflecting upon the laws of mechanics, or any philosophic theories. It is evident, then, that we have "a perception of the condition of the muscles previous to the exercise of the will," and that with respect to the hand, "it is not more the freedom of its action which constitutes its perfection, than the knowledge which we have of these motions, and our consequent ability to direct it with the utmost precision."
That the lower animals are endowed with this muscular sense cannot be doubted. It enables the tiger to spring with accuracy upon his prey, the cat upon the mouse, the greyhound in pursuit of the hare when to make the fatal snap, and the horse to leap the fence, which his eye tells him is within his power; it teaches the loris to creep upon its victim, as slowly butas surely as the hand on the clock-face traverses the dial-plate, and attains the given number; it is immediately connected with instinct, and man, when he steps aside to avoid a threatened stroke, or raises his arm to parry a blow, puts the muscular sense into exercise.
The muscular sense is, to use a homely expression, an every-day working sense; touch and sight are its prime supporters, and to these in turn it lends its aid. Nevertheless, to a certain degree it is independent of them; the infant seeks the breast as it were by an instinctive impulse, or applies the coral to its mouth; and in the dark as well as in the light, we transmit our food directly and precisely to the organs of mastication and deglutition, without thinking upon the manner in which the varied actions are performed, or even transiently noting them. Wewillto perform an act within our power of achievement, and by the complicated action of muscles, nerves, vessels, and bones, we accomplish our object, at the same time, perchance, we know not the origin and insertion of a single muscle, the direction of a single nerve, the course of a single artery.
The muscular sense is, in fact, in perpetual exercise; it is intimately connected with self-consciousness, for we feel that we corporeally exist, that other bodies exist around us, that they resist us, that they lead us to calculate our own powers, nor will all the arguments of the school of Berkeley convince us that we exist only in idea. When Dr. Johnson stampedupon the ground to disprove Berkeley's idea, he was right.
So much for the senses with which we are endowed, and the information which the mind receives through their respective channels. They teach us all that we know concerning the qualities of matter, and they subserve many of our enjoyments—they are essential to our comfort, our activity, our usefulness; but we gain through their medium no abstract truths, no determinate principles. These are elaborated in the mind itself by its own self-analysis; but, then, they do not teach us our own position as it respects time and eternity. The wisest of the heathens of Greece or Rome lived in doubt, entangled in the mazes of a vain system of philosophy; and though they might believe in a god, or in gods, deducing their arguments as to the existence of an all-powerful Being from the works of nature, and from that internal conviction which seems common to the human race—they knew nothing of His attributes, of his laws, of his requirements, of man's fallen nature, of the intrinsic sinfulness of the heart, of the means of grace, of a hope of glory. They could write noble poems, deep philosophic treatises, histories of empires, narratives of events, details of characters, descriptions of works of art; they could carve statues of matchless perfection, and build temples of surpassing splendour. They displayed an intellectual pre-eminence, which still sheds a lustre over the civilized world. Who by searching can findout God? Unless God graciously reveals himself to us, a true knowledge of him in our fallen state is impossible; the capabilities of our minds are, after all, but limited; and though, through reflection on the evidences of our senses, we may come to the conclusion that there is an omnipotent Power, we remain in ignorance as to what that Power is, and as to our relationship thereunto. Hence, then, the necessity of information beyond what the mind can gain through the senses, or by its own reflex operations; we are conscious of our position as respects the lower animals, and we have natural longings after and hopes of immortality; the soul whispers to itself,Non omnis moriar, I shall not all die; but here, were it not for revelation—a revelation from God, we should be left in darkness.
God gave a revelation of his will to Adam; our first parents transgressed, but then in mercy a promise was given, that the seed of the woman should bruise the serpent's head. God gave a further revelation of his will to Moses, with promises and commands, and elected from among the nations a peculiar people, of whom from the line of Jesse after the flesh should arise the Messiah; in Him are all the promises and prophecies centred, and through him the great revelation of God's purposes of mercy to a fallen world was ordained to be published. The Messiah came; He of whom Isaiah prophesied; the despised and rejected of men—God manifest in the flesh. The prophet'swords were verified, "He was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed."[23]
[23]Isa. liii. 5.
This is the Christian revelation, which, while it shows us our lost and sinful nature, our utter unworthiness, and the insufficiency of good works for salvation—whilst it humbles our pride, and self-sufficiency, and teaches that our place before God is in the dust, yet it speaks of joy and peace, for it points out what is all-important, the mode of redemption, the forgiveness of our sins, our adoption as heirs of the kingdom of heaven. "In this was manifested the love of God toward us, because that God sent his only begotten Son into the world, that we might live through him."[24]God reveals himself in his works as a God of wisdom and power; but here he discovers himself as a God of truth, justice, and mercy. He reveals himself as the triune Jehovah, the Father, the Son, and the Spirit, one God for evermore; and he gives us a revelation of the plan of salvation. And what is this plan? it is one by which justice and mercy are reconciled. "Without shedding of blood is no remission" of sins. The Son of God, according to the Divine promise, took upon himself our human nature, dwelt upon earth, sinless, and offered himself up as a sacrifice for sin on Calvary. He "who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God: but made himself of no reputation,and took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men: and being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross. Wherefore God also hath highly exalted him, and given him a name which is above every name: that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth; and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father."[25]
[24]1 John iv. 9.
[25]Philippians ii. 6-11.
Of the sacrifice of Christ, the crowning sacrifice, those of the Mosaic ritual were types or emblems. By his sacrifice the claims of the law were satisfied. What is required of us? Belief in the atonement. "Jesus said unto Martha, I am the resurrection and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die."[26]A true, living, justifying faith is the gift of the Holy Spirit, who sanctifies and renews the heart of the genuine believer. "The carnal mind is enmity against God: for it is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be;" but when the mind is enlightened by grace Divine, the awfulness of sin is perceived and deeply felt, true repentance is awakened, love and gratitude to God for every mercy are excited, and the soul is warmed with adoration. Then does the converted man become prayerful and watchful; then is hezealous in God's cause, and anxious for the conversion of those that live in the darkness of ignorance, and travel along the broad road that leadeth to destruction. Then will he be patient and trustful under trials and affliction, and justify God's dealings with man.
[26]John xi. 25, 26.
Such are the truths revealed by God himself, which through nothing but direct revelation could have enlightened, cheered, animated, and guided the human affections and will. Man, as an immortal being, has not been left to himself. True it is, that there are many nations still in darkness, and some in the most degraded ignorance. To ask why this is so, is to ask the reasons which determine God in his purposes; we see as in a glass darkly, and the deep things of God are hidden from our eyes; but we are assured that the time will come when all nations shall know the Lord, and Christ shall reign in fulness of glory. Let us be thankful if our trust is in Christ, if he is in us the hope of glory, for "eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him."
We have sufficiently shown the necessity of a revelation to man relative to things essential to his eternal interest, but of which he could gain no knowledge by his own mental exertions. We know by internal conviction that we are immortal beings; but unguided by revelation, we shall look forward to the future with anxiety, with a sort of vague apprehension, but revelationdispels anxiety, and fills us with all "joy and peace in believing."
Dr. Abercrombie, in his work on the Intellectual Powers, says: "There is thus, in the consciousness of every man, a deep impression of continued existence. The casuist may reason against it till he bewilder himself in his own sophistries; but a voice within gives the lie to his vain speculations, and pleads with authority for a life which is to come. The sincere and humble inquirer cherishes the impression while he seeks for further light on a subject so momentous; and he thus receives with absolute conviction the truth which beams upon him from the revelation of God, that the mysterious part of his being, which thinks, and wills, and reasons, shall, indeed, survive the wreck of its mortal tenement, and is destined for immortality."
How mysterious is the union between mind and matter! how little we know of ourselves! how shallow is our deepest philosophy! We know that the mind is that part of our being which thinks and wills, reasons and remembers, but we know nothing of it except from these functions. "By means of the corporeal senses it holds intercourse with the things of the external world, and receives impressions from them, but of this connexion also we know nothing but the facts; when we attempt to speculate upon its nature and cause, we wander at once from the path of philosophical inquiry into conjectures, which are as far beyond the proper sphere asthey are beyond the reach of human faculties. The object of true science on such a subject, therefore, is simply to investigate the facts or relations of phenomena, respecting the operations of mind itself, and the intercourse which it carries on with the external world."
In a philosophic point of view, all our knowledge of the world around us is referable to the operations of the mind on the impressions conveyed to it through the senses, that is, perception. Nevertheless, in point of fact, the knowledge which is acquired by an individual through perception and mental agency, as reflection, memory, etc., is but a small part of what he possesses; it is to the perception and mental labour of others that he owes the great mass of knowledge he is gifted with. Generation after generation has contributed to accumulate a store of facts, a treasury of thoughts and reflections, to which succeeding generations have added, leaving them as a legacy to generations yet to come, who will contribute in their turn to the stock, and bequeath the treasure to their successors. Thus are we enriched by the labour of others, and not altogether by our own experience.
Herein is a wide hiatus between man and the most sagacious of brutes. The brute gains all from personal experience; no generation can build upon the foundation left by a preceding generation—but man can; and it is no objection to allege, that some races remain in a savage state for ages; they possess thepower, the capability, the mental constitution, which the brute does not. Besides, they do improve under favourable circumstances. What were the Anglo-Saxon marauders, our own ancestors? Savages. Is England now a savage country? What were the Celtic British in Cæsar's time? Savages. Were they savages when the Romans had held possession of the island for three hundred years? No; they had adopted the arts, the manners, the civilization of their conquerors. How this very fact of the capability of man to give and receive knowledge demonstrates his superiority in creation! It is true that the human intellect is limited, and that there are mysteries into which he cannot penetrate; nor is it needful for his welfare, his improvement, his happiness, his hopes of a joyful immortality, that he should be able to do so. Let him rely on the oracles of God. Mysteries, indeed, surround him. How fluently does he talk about matter, yet he knows nothing about it, excepting what he gains through his senses; and this knowledge is limited to certain qualities, which may be termed primary and secondary. The primary qualities of material bodies are in themselves essentials, namely, solidity and extension. We cannot conceive of matter, without an involvement of these two properties. The secondary qualities of matter are colour, texture, temperature, smell, taste, etc., properties which differ in different bodies, and which are fluctuating, changeable, uncertain. Of these, and otherproperties of matter, as motion, sound, lightness, or heaviness, etc., our senses are the external tests, though mind is, in reality, the discriminator.
"Our first knowledge of the existence and properties of the material world is evidently of a complex nature. It seems to arise from the combined action of several senses, conveying to us the general notion of certain essences, which are solid and extended, or possessed of those properties which characterize material things. Without this general knowledge previously acquired, our various senses, acting individually, could convey to us no definite notion of the properties of external things. A smell, that is a mere odour, for example, might be perceived by us, but would convey nothing more than the sensation simply. It could not communicate the impression of this being a property of an external body, until we had previously acquired a knowledge of the existence of that body, and had come by observation to associate the sensation with the body from which it proceeds. The same holds true of the other senses, and we are thus led at the very first step of our inquiries to a complicated process of mind, without which our mere sensations could convey to us no definite knowledge."[27]
[27]Abercrombie.
Here, then, we conclude. Let us give thanks and praise to that God who has made us what we are—instruments of countless strings, all inharmony, the music of which reaches the soul, and in the secret recesses of the mind is there analyzed, reflected upon, compared, and stored up as knowledge. We feel, we see, we hear, we smell, we taste, we resist; we are assured of our own individuality; we are conscious of our own existence, and we know that all around is external to our own individuality. That sense of individuality is in the mind, and we have within us the assurance of immortality. Let us look to Him, who is the Saviour from an immortality of despair, that at the day of judgment we may be found clothed in his robe of righteousness, the garment of salvation.