b'\n\n\nJO, \n\n\n\nClass \n\n\n\n\nBook . N f \n\n\n\n\n\n\nDigitized by the Internet Archive \nin 2011 with funding from \nThe Library of Congress \n\n\n\nhttp://www.archive.org/details/bodymindOOmaud \n\n\n\nBODY AND MIND: \n\n\n\nAN INQUIRY INTO THEIR CONNECTION AND MUTUAL \n\nINFLUENCE, SPECIALLY IN REFERENCE \n\nTO MENTAL DISORDERS. \n\n\n\nBEING THE \n\nGTJLSTONIAN LECTURES FOR 1870, \n\nDELIVERED BEFORE THE ROYAL COLLEGE OF PHYSICIANS. \n\nWITH APPENDIX. \n\nBY \n\nHENRY MAUDSLEY, M. D., Lond., \n\nFELLOW OF THE ROYAL COLLEGE OF PHYSICIANS J \n\nPROFESSOR OF MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE IN UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, LONDON J \n\nPRESIDENT-ELECT OF THE MEDICO-PSYCHOLOGICAL ASSOCIATION; \n\nHONORARY MEMBER OF THE MEDICO-PSYCHOLOGICAL SOCIETY OF PARIS, \n\nOF THE IMPERIAL SOCIETY OF PHYSICIANS OF VIENNA, AND OF THE SOCIETY FOR THE \n\nPROMOTION OF PSYCHIATRY AND FORENSIC PSYCHOLOGY OF VIENNA. \nFORMERLY RESIDENT PHYSICIAN OF THE MANCHESTER ROYAL LUNATIC HOSPITAL, ETC. \n\n\n\nNEW YORK : \nD. APPLETON AND COMPANY, \n\n90, 92 & 94 GRAND STREET. \n\n1871. \n\n\n\n- - n \n\n\n\nBy transfer \nThe Unite House, \n\n\n\nPEEFACE. \n\n\n\nThe three lectures forming the first part of this \nvolume were delivered before the Royal College of \nPhysicians of London, to which I had the honor of \nbeing appointed Gulstonian Lecturer for this year; \nthe latter part consists of two articles which, having \nappeared elsewhere, are reprinted here as presenting a \ncompleter view of some points that are only touched \nupon in the lectures; and the general plan of the \nwhole, as thus constituted, may be described as being \nto bring man, both in his physical and mental rela- \ntions, as much as possible within the scope of scientific \ninquiry. \n\nThe first lecture is devoted to a general survey of \nthe Physiology of Mind \xe2\x80\x94 to an exposition of the phys- \nical conditions of mental function in health. In the \nsecond lecture are sketched the features of some forms \nof degeneracy of mind, as exhibited in morbid varieties \nof the human kind, with the purpose of bringing \nprominently into notice the operation of physical \n\n\n\niv PREFACE. \n\ncauses from generation to generation, and the rela- \ntionship of mental to other disorders of the nervous \nsystem. In the third lecture, which contains a gen- \neral survey of the pathology of mind, are displayed \nthe relations of morbid states of the body to disor- \ndered mental function. I would fain believe the gen- \neral result to be a well-warranted conclusion that, \nwhatever theories may be held concerning mind and \nthe best method of its study, it is vain to expect, and \na folly to attempt, to rear a stable fabric of mental \nscience, without taking faithful account of physiologi- \ncal and pathological inquiries into its phenomena. \n\nIn the criticism of the " Limits of Philosophical \nInquiry," which follows the lectures, will be found \nreasons why no attempt has been made to discuss the \nbearing of the views broached in them on any system \nof philosophy. Neither materialism nor spiritualism \nare scientific terms, and one need have no concern \nwith them in a scientific inquiry, which, if it be true \nto its spirit, is bound to have regard only to what lies \nwithin its powers and to the truth of its results. It \nwould seem to be full time that vague and barren \ndisputations concerning materialism and spiritualism \nshould end, and that, instead of continuing such fruit- \nless and unprofitable discussion, men should apply \nthemselves diligently to discover, by direct interroga- \ntion of Nature, how much matter can do without spir- \nitual help. Let each investigator pursue the method \n\n\n\nPREFACE. v \n\nof research which most suits the bent of his genius, \nand here, as in other departments of science, let each \nsystem be judged by its fruits, which cannot fail in \nthe end to be the best sponsors and sureties for its \ntruth. But the physiological inquirer into mind may, \nif he care to do so, justly protest against the easy con- \nfidence with which some metaphysical psychologists \ndisdain physiological inquiry, and ignore its results, \nwithout ever having been at the pains to make them- \nselves acquainted with what these results are, and \nwith the steps by which they have been reached. Let \ntheory be what it may, there can be no just question \nof the duty of observing faithfully all the instances \nwhich mental phenomena offer for inductive inquiry, \nand of striving to realize the entirely new aspect \nwhich an exact study of the physiology of the nervous \nsystem gives to many problems of mental science. \nOne reflection cannot fail to occur forcibly to those \nwho have pursued this study, namely, that it would \nhave been well could the physiological inquirer, after \nrising step by step from the investigation of life in its \nlowest forms to that of its highest and most complex \nmanifestations, have entered upon his investigations \nof mind without being hampered by any philosophi- \ncal theories concerning it. The very terms of met- \naphysical psychology have, instead of helping, op- \npressed and hindered him to an extent which it is im- \npossible to measure: they have been hobgoblins to \n\n\n\nyi PREFACE. \n\nfrighten him from entering on his path of inquiry, \nphantoms to lead him astray at every turn after he \nhas entered upon it, deceivers lurking to betray him \nunder the guise of seeming friends tendering help. \nLet him take all the pains in the world, he cannot ex- \npress adequately and exactly what he would\xe2\x80\x94 neither \nmore nor less \xe2\x80\x94 for he must use words which have al- \nready meanings of a metaphysical kind attached to \nthem, and which, when used, are therefore for him \nmore or less a misinterpretation. He is thus forced \ninto an apparent encroachment on questions which he \ndoes not in the least degree wish to meddle with, and \nprovokes an antagonism without ever designing it; \nand so one cannot but think it would have been well \nif he could have had his own words exactly fitting his \nfacts, and free from the vagueness and ambiguity of a \nformer metaphysical use. \n\nThe article on the " Theory of Vitality," which ap- \npeared in 1863, is now reprinted, with a few, mainly \nverbal, alterations. The aspect of some of the ques- \ntions discussed in it has been somewhat changed by \nthe progress of inquiry and thought since that time, \nbut it appears to the Author that, great as discussion \nhas been, there are yet considerations respecting vitali- \nty that have not been duly weighed. Whether living \nmatter was formed originally, or is now being formed, \nfrom non-living matter, by the operation of physical \ncauses and natural laws, are questions which, notwith- \n\n\n\nPREFACE. vii \n\nstanding the lively and vigorous handling which they \nhave had, are far from being settled. Exact experi- \nment can alone put an end to this dispute : the one \nconclusive experiment, indeed, in proof of the origin \nof living from dead matter, will be to make life. \nMeanwhile, as the subject is still in the region of dis- \ncussion, it is permissible to set forth the reflections \nwhich the facts seem to warrant, and to endeavor to \nindicate the direction of scientific development which \nseems to be foretokened by, or to exist potentially in, \nthe knowledge which we have thus far acquired. This \nmuch may be said : that those who oppose the doc- \ntrine of so-called spontaneous generation, not on the \nground of the absence of conclusive evidence of its \noccurrence, which they might justly do, but on the \nground of what they consider special characteristics \nof living matter, would do well to look with more in- \nsight into the phenomena of non-living Nature, and to \nconsider more deeply what they see, in order to dis- \ncover whether the characteristic properties of life \nare quite so special and exclusive as they imagine \nthem to be. Having done that, they might go on to \nconsider whether, even if their premises were grant- \ned, any conclusion regarding the mode of origin of life \nwould legitimately follow; whether in fact it would \nnot be entirely gratuitous and unwarrantable to con- \nclude thence the impossibility of the origin of living \nmatter from non-living matter. The etymological im- \n\n\n\nviii PREFACE. \n\nport of the words physics and physiology is notably \nthe same ; and it may be that, as has been suggested, \nin the difference of their application lies a hidden \nirony at the assumption on which the division is \ngrounded. \n\n9, Hanover Square, W. \nNovember 5, 1870. \n\n\n\nCONTENTS \n\n\n\nLECTURES. \n\nPAGE \n\nI. \xe2\x80\x94 On the Physical Condition of Mental Function in \n\nHealth . . . . . .11 \n\nII. \xe2\x80\x94 On Certain Forms op Degeneracy op Mind, their \nCausation, and their Relations to other Dis- \norders op the Neryous System . . . 41 \n\nIII. \xe2\x80\x94 On the Relations of Morbid Bodily States to Dis- \nordered Mental Functions . . . . \'lO \n\n\n\nAPPENDIX. \n\nI. \xe2\x80\x94 The Limits of Philosophical Inquiry . . 98 \n\nII. \xe2\x80\x94 The Theory of Vitality . . . . .120 \n\n\n\nBODY AKD MIND: \n\nAN INQUlEY INTO THEIE CONNECTION AND \n\nMUTUAL INFLUENCE, SPECIALLY IN KEFEKENCE TO \n\nMENTAL DISOKDEKS. \n\n\n\nLECTURE I. \n\nGentlemen : The relations of mind and body in health \nand in disease I have chosen as the subject of these lectures, \nnot with the hope of doing full justice to so complex and \ndifficult an inquiry, but because it has for some time been \nmy special work, and there was no other subject on which I \nshould have felt myself equally justified in addressing you. \nNo one can be more deeply sensible than I am how little \nexact our knowledge is of the bodily conditions of mental \nfunctions, and how much of that which we think we know \nis vague, uncertain, and fluctuating. But the time has come \nwhen the immediate business which lies before any one who \nwould advance our knowledge of mind unquestionably is a \nclose and searching scrutiny of the bodily conditions of its \nmanifestations in health and disease. It is most necessary \nnow to make use of the results of the study of mind in \nhealth to light and guide our researches into its morbid phe- \nnomena, and in like manner to bring the instructive in- \nstances presented by unsound mind to bear upon the inter- \npretation of its healthy functions. The physiology and the \npathology of mind are two branches of one science ; and he \n\n\n\n12 BODY AND MIND. \n\nwho studies the one must, if he would work wisely and well, \nstudy the other also. My aim will be to promote the recon- \nciliation between them, and in doing so I shall embrace the \noccasion, whenever it offers itself, to indicate the principles \nwhich should guide our efforts for what must always be the \nhighest object of medical science and art \xe2\x80\x94 the production \nand preservation of a sound mind in a sound body. Act- \nually to accomplish much of this purpose will not lie in \nmy power, but I may bring together fragmentary observa- \ntions, point out the bearing of them on one another and on \nreceived opinions, thus unfold their meaning, and mark \nbroadly the lines which future research must take. \n\n"Within the memory of men now living insanity was such \na special study, and its treatment such a special art, that it \nstood quite aloof from general medicine in a mysterious and \nmischievous isolation ; owing little or nothing to the results \nof progress in other branches of medicine, and contributing \nnothing to their progress. The reason of this it is not hard \nto discover. The habit of viewing mind as an intangible \nentity or incorporeal essence, which science inherited from \ntheology, prevented men from subjecting its phenomena to \nthe same method of investigation as other natural phenom- \nena; its disorders were thought to be an incomprehensible \naffliction and, in accordance with the theological notion, due \nto the presence of an evil spirit in the sufferer, or to the en- \nslavement of the soul by sin, or to any thing but their true \ncause \xe2\x80\x94 bodily disease. Consequently, the treatment of the \ninsane was not in the hands of intelligent physicians, who \naimed to apply the resources of medicine to the alleviation \nor cure of bodily illness, but was given up to coarse and ig- \nnorant jailers, whose savage cruelties will for all time to \ncome be a great and ugly blot upon the enlightenment of the \nage which tolerated them. \n\nMatters are happily changed now. On all hands it is ad- \nmitted that the manifestations of mind take place through \nthe nervous system ; and that its derangements are the result \n\n\n\nORGAN AND FUNCTION. 13 \n\nof nervous disease, amenable to the same method of investi- \ngation as other nervous diseases. Insanity has accordingly \nbecome a strictly medical study, and its treatment a branch \nof medical practice. Still, it is all too true that, notwith- \nstanding we know much, and are day by day learning more, \nof the physiology of the nervous system, we are only on the \nthreshold of the study of it as an instrument subserving men- \ntal function. "We know little more positively than that it \nhas such function ; we know nothing whatever of the physics \nand of the chemistry of thought. The conception of mind as a \nmysterious entity, different essentially from, and vastly supe- \nrior to, the body which it inhabits and uses as its earthly tene- \nment, but from which its noblest aspirations are thought to \nbe to get free, still works openly or in a latent way to ob- \nstruct the study of its functions by the methods of physical \nresearch. Without speculating at all concerning the nature \nof mind \xe2\x80\x94 which, let me distinctly declare at the outset, is a \nquestion which science cannot touch, and I do not dream of \nattempting to touch \xe2\x80\x94 I do not shrink from saying that we \nshall make no progress toward a mental science if we begin \nby depreciating the body : not by disdaining it, as metaphy- \nsicians, religious ascetics, and maniacs have done, but by \nlaboring in an earnest and inquiring spirit to understand \nit, shall we make any step forward; and when we have \nfully comprehended its functions, when we know how to \nestimate fitly this highest, most complex, and wonderful \nachievement of organized skill, it will be quite time, if \nthere be then the inclination, to look down upon it with \ncontempt. \n\nThe truth is, that in inquiries concerning mind, as was \nonce the case in speculations concerning other natural phe- \nnomena of forces, it has been the practice to begin where the \ninquiry should have ended. Just as the laws of physical ac- \ntions were evoked out of the depths of human consciousness, \nand the relations of bodies to one another attributed to sym- \npathies and antipathies, attractions and abhorrences, instead \n\n\n\n14 BODY AND MIND. \n\nof being acquired by patient observation and careful generaliza- \ntion, so has a fabric of mental philosophy been reared on the \ndoubtful revelations of self-consciousness, in entire disregard \nof the more tedious and less attractive duty of observation \nof facts, and induction from them. Surely it is time we \nput seriously to ourselves the question whether the inductive \nmethod, which has proved its worth by its abundant fruit- \nfulness wherever it has been faithfully applied, should not \nbe as rigidly used in the investigation of mind as in the \ninvestigation of other natural phenomena. If so, we ought \ncertainly to begin our inquiry with the observation of the \nsimplest instances \xe2\x80\x94 with its physiological manifestations in \nanimals, in children, in idiots, in savages, mounting by de- \ngrees to the highest and most recondite facts of consciousness, \nthe interpretation or the misinterpretation of which consti- \ntutes what has hitherto claimed to be mental philosophy. The \ninductions which we get by observing the simple may be used \nwith success to disentangle the phenomena of the complex ; \nbut the endeavor to apply the complex and obscure to the \ninterpretation of the simple is sure to end in confusion and \nerror. The higher mental faculties are formed by evolution \nfrom the more simple and elementary, just as the more spe- \ncial and complex structure proceeds from the more simple and \ngeneral ; and in the one case as in the other we must, if \nwe would truly learn, follow the order of development. ]Not \nthat it is within my present purpose to trace the plan of \ndevelopment of our mental faculties, but the facts and argu- \nments which I shall bring forward will prove how vain \nand futile it is to strive to rear a sound fabric of mental sci- \nence on any other foundation. \n\nTo begin the study of mind, then, with the observation \nof its humblest bodily manifestations is a strictly scientific \nmethod. "When we come to inquire what these are, it is far \nfrom easy to fix the point at which mental function begins. \nWithout doubt most of the actions of man, and many of \nthose of the higher animals, do evince the operation of mind, \n\n\n\nREFLEX ACTION. 15 \n\nbut whereabouts in the animal kingdom it first appears, and \nwhat part it has in the lower nerve-f unctions of man, are \nquestions not easily answered. The more closely the matter \nis looked into, the more clearly it appears that we habitually \nembrace in our conception of mind different nervous func- \ntions, some of which proceed from different nerve-centres, \nand the more necessary it becomes to analyze these functions, \nto separate the more simple and elementary, and to discover \nin the concrete as much as possible of the meaning of the \nabstraction. Is the brain the exclusive organ of mind ? If \nit be so, to what category of functions shall we refer the re- \nflex acts of the spinal cord, which take place independently \nof the brain, and which often achieve as definite an end, and \nseem to display as intelligent an aim, as any conscious act of \nvolition ? It needs not to illustrate in detail the nature and \nextent of reflex action, which is familiar enough, but I may \nselect a striking example in order to serve as a text for the \nreflections which I wish to bring forward. One simple fact, \nrightly understood and truly interpreted, will teach as much \nas a thousand facts of the same kind, but the thousand must \nhave been previously observed in order to understand truly \nthe one ; for it is certainly true that, to apprehend the full \nmeaning of common things, it is necessary to study a great \nmany uncommon things. This, however, has been done in \nthis instance by the distinguished physiologists whose labors \nhave fixed on a tolerably firm basis the doctrine of reflex \naction; we may, therefore, take, as our starting-point, the \naccepted results of their labors. \n\nIt is well known that, if the hind-foot of a frog that has \nhad its head cut off be pinched, it is withdrawn from the ir- \nritation. The stimulus to the afferent nerve reaches the gray \nmatter of the spinal cord, and sets free a force which excites \nto action the corresponding motor nerves of the same side. \n"When the foot is pinched more strongly, the force liberated \nby the stimulus passes across the cord to the motor nerves \nof the opposite side, and there is a simultaneous withdrawal \n\n\n\n16 BODY AND MIND. \n\nof both limbs ; and, if the excitation be stronger still, there \nis a wider irradiation of the effects of the stimulus in the \ngray matter, and a movement of all four limbs follows, the \nfrog jumping away. These movements of the decapitated \nfrog, which it is plain effect the definite purpose of getting it \nout of the way of harm, we believe to be analogous to the \nviolent coughing by which food that has gone the wrong way \nis expelled from the human larynx, or to the vomiting by \nwhich offending matter is ejected from the stomach. Inde- \npendently of consciousness and of will, an organism plainly \nhas the power \xe2\x80\x94 call it intelligent or call it what we will \xe2\x80\x94 of \nfeeling and eschewing what is hurtful to it, as well as of feel- \ning and ensuing what is beneficial to it. \n\nBut the experiment on the frog may be made more striking \nand instructive. Touch with acetic acid the thigh of a de- \ncapitated frog over the internal condyle, and the animal rubs \nit off with the dorsal surface of the foot of the same side ; \ncut off the foot, and apply the acid to the same spot, and the \nanimal tries to get at it again with its foot, but, of course, \nhaving lost it, cannot. After some fruitless efforts, therefore, \nit gives up trying in that way, seems restless, as though, says \nPfltiger, it was seeking some other way; and at last it makes \nuse of the foot of the other leg, and succeeds in rubbing off \nthe acid. Notably we have here not merely contractions of \nmuscles, but combined and harmonized contractions in due \nsequence for a special purpose. There are actions that have \nall the appearance of being guided by intelligence and insti- \ngated by will in an animal the recognized organ of whose in- \ntelligence and will has been removed. \n\nWhat are we to say in explanation of movements that have \nsuch a look of adaptation? Are they mental, or are they \nonly physical? If they are mental, it is plain that we must \nmuch enlarge and modify our conception of mind, and of the \nseat of mind ; if physical, it is plain that we must subtract \nfrom mind functions that are essential to its full function, and \nproperties that are the very foundations of its development \n\n\n\nPURPOSIVE ACTS. 17 \n\nin the higher centres. Some eminent physiologists now \nmaintain, on tbe strength of these experiments, that the ac- \ncepted doctrine of reflex action is quite untenable, and that \nthe spinal cord is really endowed with sensation and volition ; \nand certainly these adapted actions seem to give us all the \nsigns of being felt and willed, except telling us that they are \nso. Before accepting, however, this explanation of the ob- \nscure by something more obscure still, it were well to realize \ndistinctly how dangerous a practice it usually is to apply de- \nductively to the interpretation of simple phenomena ideas \npertaining to the more complex, and how essential a princi- \nple of the method of induction it is to follow the order of \nevolution, and to ascend from the interpretation of the sim- \nple to that of the complex. The explanation savors of the \nold and evil tendency which has done so much harm in phi- \nlosophy, the tendency to explain the facts of Nature by what \nwe feel to go on in our minds ; because we know that most of \nour actions take place consciously and voluntarily, we can hard- \nly help thinking that it must be the same in the frog. Might \nwe not, however, as well suppose and hold that positive at- \ntracts negative and repels positive electricity consciously and \nvoluntarily, or that in the double decomposition of chemical \nsalts one acid chooses voluntarily the other base ? It is most \nnecessary to be on our guard against the danger of misapply- \ning ideas derived from internal observation of the functions \nof mind-centres to the interpretation of the functions of \nlower nerve-centres, and so of misinterpreting them. As- \nsuredly we have sad experience enough to warn us against \ninvolving the latter in the metaphysical haze which still \nhangs over the functions of the supreme centres. \n\nAll the conclusion which the facts warrant is that actions \nfor a definite end, having indeed the semblance of predesign- \ning consciousness and will, may be quite unconscious and auto- \nmatic ; that the movements of the decapitated frog, adapted \nas they are to secure its well-being, are no more evidence of \nintelligence and will than are the movements of coughing, \n\n\n\n18 BODY AND MIND. \n\nsneezing, and swallowing in man. In the constitution of the \nanimal\'s spinal cord are implanted the faculties of such move- \nments for self-preservation, which it has inherited as a part \nof its nature, and without which it could hardly live a day ; \naccordingly it acts necessarily and blindly ; though it has lost \nits foot, it endeavors vainly to act as if its foot was still there, \nand only when the irritation continues unaffected by its futile \nefforts makes, in answer to it, those further reflex movements \nwhich are the physiological sequences of the unsuccessful \nmovements : it supplements one series of reflex actions by \nanother.* But, although these purposive movements are not \nevidence of intelligence and volition in the spinal cord, it is \nanother question whether they do not evince the same physi- \nological properties and the operation of the same laws of \nevolution as govern the development of intelligence and will \nin the higher centres. \n\nI have taken the experiment on the frog to exemplify the \nproposition that designed actions may be unconscious and \nautomatic, because the phenomena are more simple in it than \nin man, and more easy therefore to be understood ; but the \nproposition is equally true of his spinal cord. In its case, \nhowever, we have to bear in mind that faculties are not in- \nnate to the same degree and extent as in the lower animals, \nbut have to be acquired by education \xe2\x80\x94 to be organized, in \nfact, after birth. It must be taught, just as the brain must, \nbefore it can perform its functions as an organ of animal life ; \nand, being much more under the control of the more highly- \ndeveloped brain, feeling and volition commonly mingle largely \nin its functions, and its independent action cannot be so \nplainly exhibited. But, when its motor centres have been \ntaught, when they have gained by education the power of \nexecuting what are called secondary automatic acts, it is cer- \n\n* Wisely or unwisely, as the case may be ; for reflex movements which \ncommonly effect a useful end may, under the changed circumstances of dis- \nease, do great mischief, becoming even the occasion of violent suffering \nand of a most painful death. \n\n\n\nSECONDARY AUTOMATIC ACTS. 19 \n\ntain that it can and does habitually execute them indepen- \ndently of consciousness and of will. They become as purely \nautomatic as are the primitive reflex acts of the frog. To the \nstatement, then, that actions bearing the semblance of design \nmay be unconscious and automatic we have now to add a \nsecond and most weighty proposition \xe2\x80\x94 namely, that acts con- \nsciously designed at first may, by repetition, become uncon- \nscious and automatic, the faculties of them being organized \nin the constitution of the nerve-centres, and they being then \nperformed as reflex effects of an external stimulus. This law, \nby which the education of the spinal cord takes place, is, as \nwe shall hereafter see, a most important law in the develop- \nment of the higher nerve-centres. \n\nLet us now go a step further. The automatic acts, whether \nprimary or secondary, in the frog or in the man, which are \nexcited by the suitable external stimulus, may also be excited \nby an act of will, by an impulse coming downward from the \nbrain. When this happens, it should be clearly apprehended \nthat the immediate agency of the movements is the same ; it \nis in the motor centres of the spinal cord ; the will does not \nand cannot act upon the nerve-fibres of each muscle individu- \nally, but simply gives the order which sets in motion the or- \nganized machinery of the movements in the proper motor \ncentres. This is a consideration of the utmost importance, \nfor it exhibits how great a part of our voluntary acts is really \nthe automatic action of the spinal cord. The same move- \nments are effected by the same agency in answer to different \nstimuli \xe2\x80\x94 in the one case to an external stimulus, in the other \ncase to an impulse of will ; and in both cases the mind is alike \nignorant of the immediate agency by which they are done. \nBut while the automatic acts take place independently of \nwill, the will is absolutely dependent on "the organized expe- \nrience in the cord for the accomplishment of its acts ; with- \nout this it would be impotent to do a voluntary act. When, \ntherefore, we have taken out of a voluntary act the large \npart which is due to the automatic agency of the motor cen- \n\n\n\n20 BODY AND MIND. \n\ntres, it clearly appears that we have subtracted no small \nproportion from what we are in the habit of comprising \nvaguely under mind. We perceive, indeed, how indispensa- \nble an exact and faithful observation of the functions of the \nspinal cord is to a true physiological inquiry into mind, and \nwhat an important means of analysis a knowledge of them \nyields us. Carrying the knowledge so gained into our exami- \nnation of the functions of the higher nerve-centres, we ob- \nserve how much of them it will serve to interpret. The re- \nsult is, that we find a great part of the habitual functions of \nthe higher centres to be similarly automatic, and to admit of \na similar ph} r siological interpretation. \n\nThere can be no doubt that the ganglionic nuclei of the \nsenses \xe2\x80\x94 the sensorial nuclei \xe2\x80\x94 are connected with motor nu- \nclei ; and that we have in such anatomical arrangement the \nagency of a number of reflex movements. Most of the in- \nstinctive acts of animals are of this kind, the faculties being \ninnate in them. In man, however, who is actually the most \nhelpless, though potentially the most powerful, of all living \ncreatures when he comes into the world, the sensory and \nassociated motor nuclei must be educated, just as the spinal \ncentres must. To illustrate this sensori-motor or instinctive \naction, we may take the results of Flourens\'s well-known \nexperiment of removing the cerebral hemispheres of a pigeon. \nWhat happens ? The pigeon seemingly loses at once all in- \ntelligence and all power of spontaneous action. It appears \nas if it were asleep ; yet, if thrown into the air, it will fly. \nIf laid on its back, it struggles on to its legs again ; the pupil \nof the eye contracts to light, and, if the light be very bright, \nthe eyes are shut. It will dress its feathers if they are ruffled, \nand will sometimes follow with a movement of its head the \nmovement of a candle before it ; and, when a pistol is fired off, \nit will open its eyes, stretch its neck, raise its head, and then \nfall back into its former attitude. It is quite evident from \nthis experiment that general sensibility and special sensations \nare possible after the removal of the hemispheres ; but they \n\n\n\nSENSORI-MOTOR ACTS. 21 \n\nare not tlien transformed into ideas. The impressions of sense \nreach and affect the sensory centres, but they are not intel- \nlectually perceived; and the proper movements are excited, \nbut these are reflex or automatic. There are no ideas, there \nis no true spontaneity ; and the animal would die of hunger \nbefore a plateful of food, though it will swallow it when \npushed far enough into its mouth to come within the range \nof the reflex acts of deglutition. Here again, then, we have \na surprising variety of adapted actions of which the body is \ncapable without the intervention of intelligence, emotion, and \nwill \xe2\x80\x94 without, in fact, mind in its exact sense having any part \nin them. The pigeon is brought to the level of the inverte- \nbrata, which have no higher nerve-centres than sensory \nganglia, no centres of intelligence and will, and which exe- \ncute all their varied and active movements, all their wonder- \nful displays of instinct, through sensory and associated motor \nnuclei. They seek what is good for them, avoid what is \nhurtful to them, provide for the propagation of their kind \xe2\x80\x94 \nperform, indeed, all the functions of a very active life without \nknowing that they are doing so, not otherwise than as our \npupils contract to light, or as our eyes accommodate them- \nselves to vision at different distances, without consciousness \non our part. The highest specializations of this kind of \nnerve-function are displayed by the ant and the bee ; their \nwonderful instinctive arts show to what a degree of special \nperfection sensori-motor action may be brought.* \n\n* I do not say that the ant and the bee are entirely destitute of any power \nof adaptation to new experiences in their lives\xe2\x80\x94 that they are, in fact, purely \norganized machines, acting always with unvarying regularity; it would \nappear, indeed, from close observation, that these creatures do sometimes \ndiscover in their actions traces of a sensibility to strange experiences, and \nof corresponding adaptation of movements. We cannot, moreover, con- \nceive how the remarkable instincts which they manifest can have been \nacquired originally, except by virtue of some such power. But the power \nin them now is evidently of a rudimentary kind, and must remain so while \nthey have not those higher nerve-centres in which the sensations are com- \nbined into ideas, and perceptions of the relations of things are acquired. \nGranting, however, that the bee or ant has these traces of adaptive action, \n\n\n\n22 BODY AND MIND. \n\nUnlike the Dee and the ant, man must slowly learn the \nuse of his senses and their respondent movements. This he \ndoes by virtue of the fundamental property of nerve-centres, \nwhereby they react in a definite way to suitable impressions, \norganically register their experience, and so acquire by edu- \ncation their special faculties. Thus it is that many of the \ndaily actions of our life, which directly follow impressions \non the senses, take place in answer to sensations that are not \nperceived \xe2\x80\x94 become, so to speak, instinctive ; some of them \nbeing not a whit less automatic than the instinctive acts of \nthe bee, or the acts of the pigeon deprived of its hemispheres. \nWhen we move about in a room with the objects in which \nwe are quite familiar, we direct our steps so as to avoid them, \nwithout being conscious what they are, or what we are do- \ning ; we see them, as we easily discover if we try to move \nabout in the same way with our eyes shut, but we do not \nperceive them, the mind being fully occupied with some train \nof thought. In like manner, when we go through a series \nof familiar acts, as in dressing or undressing ourselves, the \noperations are really automatic ; once begun, we continue \nthem in a mechanical order, while the mind is thinking of \nother things ; and if we afterward reflect upon what we have \ndone, in order to call to mind whether we did or did not omit \nsomething, as for instance to wind up our watch, we cannot \nsatisfy ourselves except by trial, even though we had actually \ndone what we were in doubt about. It is evident, indeed, \nthat in a state of profound reverie or abstraction a person \nmay, as a somnambulist sometimes does, see without know- \nit must "be allowed that they are truly rudiments of functions, which in the \nsupreme nerve-centres we designate as reason and volition. Such a con- \nfession might be a trouble to a metaphysical physiologist, who would there- \nupon find it necessary to place a metaphysical entity behind the so-called \ninstincts of the bee, but can be no trouble to the inductive physiologist ; he \nsimply recognizes an illustration of a physiological diffusion of properties, \nand of the physical conditions of primitive volition, and traces in the evo- \nlution of mind and its organs, as in the evolution of other functions and \ntheir organs, a progressive specialization and increasing complexity. \n\n\n\nSUPREME NERVE-CENTRES. 23 \n\ning that lie sees, hear without knowing that he hears, and go \nthrough a series of acts scarcely, if at all, conscious of them \nat the time, and not remembering them afterward. For the \nmost distinct display of sensori-motor action in man, it is \nnecessary that his cerebral hemispheres, which are so largely \ndeveloped, and intervene much in the functions of the subor- \ndinate centres, should be deeply engaged in their own func- \ntions, or that these should be suspended. This appears to \nbe the case in those brief attacks of epileptic unconsciousness \nknown as the petit mal, in which a person will sometimes \ngo on with the work he was engaged in at the time of the \nattack, utterly unaware of the momentary interruption of \nhis consciousness.* There are many instances of this sort on \nrecord, which I cannot stop to relate now ; they prove how \nlarge a part sensori-motor functions, which are the highest \nnerve-functions of so many animals, play in our daily actions. \nWe ought clearly to apprehend the fact that, as with the \nspinal cord, so here, the movements which take place in an- \nswer to the stimulus from without may be excited by the \nstimulus of the will descending from the hemispheres, and \nthat, when they are so excited, the immediate agency of them \nis the same. The movements that are outwardly manifest \nare, as it were, contained inwardly in the appropriate motor \nnuclei ; these have been educated to perform them. Hence \nit is that, when the left corpus striatum is broken up by dis- \nease, the right cannot do its special work ; if it could, a man \nmight write with his left hand when his right hand was dis- \nabled by paralysis. \n\nThus much, then, concerning our sensori-motor acts. \nWhen we have yielded up to the spinal cord all the part in \nour actions that properly belongs to it, and to the sensory gan- \nglia and their connected motor nuclei all the part that be- \nlongs to them, we have subtracted no inconsiderable part \nfrom the phenomena which we are in the habit of designating \n\n* For examples, I may refer to my work on " The Physiology and Pa- \nthology of Mind-," 2d edition. \n\n\n\n24 BODY AND MIND. \n\nmental and including under mind. But we still leave un- \ntouched the highest functions of the nervous system \xe2\x80\x94 those \nto which the hemispherical ganglia minister. These are the \nfunctions of intelligence, of emotion, and of will ; they are \nthe strictly mental functions. The question at once arises \nwhether we have to do in these supreme centres with funda- \nmentally different properties and different laws of evolution \nfrom those which belong to the lower nerve-centres. We \nhave to do with different functions certainly ; but are the \norganic processes which take place in them essentially differ- \nent from, or are they identical with, those of the lower \nnerve-centres? They appear to be essentially the same: \nthere is a reception of impressions, and there is a reaction to \nimpressions, and there is an organic registration of the effects \nboth of the impressions and of the reactions to them. The ex- \nternal stimuli do not, it is true, ascend directly to the supreme \ncentres as they do to the spinal centres and the sensory cen- \ntres; they are transmitted indirectly through the sensory \nganglia ; it is through the senses that we get our ideas. This \nis in accordance with the anatomical observation \xe2\x80\x94 which, \nhowever, is disputed \xe2\x80\x94 that no sensory fibres go directly \nthrough to the hemispheres, and no motor fibres start directly \nfrom them ; both sensory and motor fibres stopping at the \ncorpora striata and thalami optici, and new fibres connect- \ning these with the hemispheres. But this does not alter the \nfundamental similarity of the organic processes in the higher \ncentres. The impressions which are made there are the physi- \nological conditions of ideas; the feeling of the ideas is emo- \ntion \xe2\x80\x94 for I hold emotion to mean the special sensibility of \nthe vesicular neurine to ideas \xe2\x80\x94 the registration of them is \nmemory ; and the reaction to them is volition. Attention \nis the maintenance of the tension of an idea or a group of \nideas \xe2\x80\x94 the keeping it before the mind ; and reflection is the \nsuccessive transference of energy from one to another of a \nseries of ideas. We know not, and perhaps never shall know, \nwhat mind is ; but we are nevertheless bound to investigate, \n\n\n\nMEMORY. 25 \n\nin a scientific spirit, the laws of its functions, and to trace \nthe resemblances which undoubtedly exist between them and \nthe functions of lower nerve-centres. \n\nTake, for example, the so-called faculty of memory, of \nwhich metaphysicians have made so much as affording us the \nknowledge of personal identity. From the way in which \nthey usually treat of it, one would suppose that memory was \npeculiar to mind, and far beyond the reach of physical ex- \nplanation. But a little reflection will prove that it is noth- \ning of the kind. The acquired functions of the spinal cord, \nand of the sensory ganglia, obviously imply the existence of \nmemory, which is indispensable to their formation and exer- \ncise. How else could these centres be educated ? The im- \npressions made upon them, and the answering movements, \nboth leave their traces behind them, which are capable of \nbeing revived on the occasions of similar impressions. A \nganglionic centre, whether of mind, sensation, or movement, \nwhich was without memory, would be an idiotic centre, in- \ncapable of being taught its functions. In every nerve-ceil \nthere is memory, and not only so, but there is memory in \nevery organic element of the body. The virus of small-pox \nor of syphilis makes its mark on the constitution for the rest \nof life. We may forget it, but it will not forget us, though, \nlike the memory of an old man, it may fade and become faint \nwith advancing age. The manner in which the scar of a cut \nin a child\'s finger is perpetuated, and grows as thebody grows, \nevinces, as Mr. Paget has pointed out, that the organic ele- \nment of the partem einbers the change which it has suffered. \nMemory is the organic registration of the effects of impres- \nsions, the organization of experience, and to recollect is to \nrevive this experience \xe2\x80\x94 to call the organized residua into \nfunctional activity. \n\nThe fact that memory is accompanied by consciousness in \n\nthe supreme centres does not alter the fundamental nature of \n\nthe organic processes that are the condition of it. The more \n\nsure and perfect, indeed, memory becomes, the more uncon- \n\n2 \n\n\n\n26 BODY AND MIND. \n\nscions it becomes; and, when an idea or mental state has \nbeen completely organized, it is revived without conscious- \nness, and takes its part automatically in onr mental opera- \ntions, just as an habitual movement does in our bodily activ- \nity. "We perceive in operation here the same law of organi- \nzation of conscious acquisitions as unconscious power, which \nwe observed in the functions of the lower nerve-centres. A \nchild, while learning to speak or read, has to remember the \nmeaning of each word, must tediously exercise its memory ; \nbut which of us finds it necessary to remember the meanings \nof the common words which we are daily using, as we must \ndo those of a foreign language with which we are not very \nfamiliar ? "We do remember them, of course, but it is by an \nunconscious memory. In like manner, a pupil, learning to \nplay the piano-forte, is obliged to call to mind each note: but \nthe skilful player goes through no such process of conscious \nremembrance ; his ideas, like his movements, are automatic, \nand both so rapid as to surpass the rapidity of succession of \nconscious ideas and movements. To my mind, there are in- \ncontrovertible reasons to conclude that the organic conditions \nof memory are the same in the supreme centres of thought \nas they are in the lower centres of sensation and of reflex \naction. Accordingly, in a brain that is not disorganized by \ninjury or disease, the organic registrations are never actually \nforgotten, but endure while life lasts ; no wave of oblivion \ncan efface their characters. Consciousness, it is true, may \nbe impotent to recall them ; but a fever, a blow on the head, \na poison in the blood, a dream, the agony of drowning, the \nhour of death, rending the veil between our present con- \nsciousness and these inscriptions, will sometimes call viv- \nidly back, in a momentary flash, and call back too with all \nthe feelings of the original experience, much that seemed to \nhave vanished from the mind forever. In the deepest and \nmost secret recesses of mind, there is nothing hidden from \nthe individual self, or from others, which may not be thus \nsome time accidentally revealed ; so that it might well be \n\n\n\nVOLITION. 27 \n\nthat, as De Quincey surmised, the opening of the book at \nthe clay of judgment shall be the unfolding of the everlasting \nscroll of memory.* \n\nAs it is with memory so is it with volition, which is a \nphysiological function of the supreme centres, and which, like \nmemory, becomes more unconscious and automatic the more \ncompletely it is organized by repeated practice. It is not \nman\'s function in life to think and feel only; his inner life he \nmust express or utter in action of some kind \xe2\x80\x94 in word or \ndeed. Eeceiving the impressions from Nature, of which lie \nis a part, he reacts upon Nature intelligently, modifying it in \na variety of ways ; thus Nature passes through human na- \nture to a higher evolution. As the spinal cord reacts to its \nimpressions in excito-motor action, and as the sensory centres \nreact to their impressions in sensori-motor action, so, after \nthe complex interworking and combination of ideas in the \nhemispherical ganglia, there is, in like manner, a reaction or \ndesire of determination of energy outward, in accordance \nwith the fundamental property of organic structure to seek \nwhat is beneficial and shun what is hurtful to it. It is this \nproperty of tissue that gives the impulse which, when guided \nby intelligence, we call volition, and ifc is the abstraction \nfrom the particular volitions which metaphysicians personify \nas the icill, and regard as their determining agent. Physio- \nlogically, we cannot choose but reject the will; volition we \nknow, and will we know, but the will, apart from particular \nacts of volition or will, we cannot know. To interpose such \na metaphysical entity between reflection and action there- \nupon would bring us logically to the necessity of interposing \na similar entity between the stimulus to the spinal cord and \nits reaction. Thus, instead of unravelling the complex by \nhelp of the more simple, we should obscure the simple by \n\n* An apt illustration, most true to Nature, of the recurrence of early \nimpressions in the delirium of dying, is afforded by Falstaff, who, as he \nexpires in a London tavern after a life of debauchery, babbles of green \n\nfields. \n\n\n\n28 BODY AND MIND. \n\nspeculations concerning the complex. As physiologists, we \nhave to deal with volition as a function of the supreme cen- \ntres, following reflection, varying in quantity and quality as \nits cause varies, strengthened by education and exercise, en- \nfeebled by disuse, decaying with decay of structure, and al- \nways needing for its outward expression the educated agency \nof the subordinate motor centres. "We have to deal with \nwill, not as a single undecomposable faculty unaffected by \nbodily conditions, but as a result of organic changes in the \nsupreme centres, affected as certainly and seriously by dis- \norder of them as our motor faculties are by disorder of their \ncentres. Loss of power of will is one of the earliest and most \ncharacteristic symptoms of mental derangement ; and what- \never may have been thought in times past, we know well \nnow that the loss is not the work of some unclean spirit that \nhas laid its hands upon the will, but the direct effect of \nphysical disease. \n\nBut I must pass on now to other matters, without stop- \nping to unfold at length the resemblances between the prop- \nerties of the supreme centres and those of the lower nerve- \ncentres. We see that the supreme centres are educated, as \nthe other centres are, and the better they are educated the \nbetter do they perform their functions of thinking and willing. \nThe development of mind is a gradual process of organization \nin them. Ideas, as they are successively acquired through \nthe gateways of the senses, are blended and combined and \ngrouped in a complexity that defies analysis, the organic com- \nbinations being the physiological conditions of our highest \nmental operations \xe2\x80\x94 reflection, reasoning, and judgment. Two \nleading ideas we ought to grasp and hold fast : first, that the \ncomplex and more recondite phenomena of mind are formed \nout of the more simple and elementary by progressive spe- \ncialization and integration ; and, secondly, that the laws by \nmeans of which this formation takes place are not laws of \nassociation merely, but laws of organic combination and evo- \nlution. The growth of mental powder means an actual addi- \n\n\n\nMOTOR INTUITIONS. 29 \n\ntion of structure to the intimate constitution of the centres \nof mind \xe2\x80\x94 a mental organization in them ; and mental derange- \nment means disorder of them, primary or secondary, func- \ntional or organic. \n\nAlthough I have declared the hemispherical ganglia to be \npreeminently the mind-centres, and although it is in disorder \nof their functions \xe2\x80\x94 in disordered intelligence, in disordered \nemotion, and in disordered will \xe2\x80\x94 that insanity essentially con- \nsists, it is nevertheless impossible to limit the study of our \nmental operations to the study of them. They receive im- \npressions from every part of the body, and, there is reason to \nbelieve, exert an influence on every element of it : there is \nnot an organic motion, sensible or insensible, which does not, \nconsciously or unconsciously, affect them, and which they in \nturn do not consciously or unconsciously affect. So intimate \nand essential is the sympathy between all the organic func- \ntions, of which mind is the crown and consummation, that we \nmay justly say of it, that it sums up and comprehends the \nbodily life \xe2\x80\x94 that every thing which is displayed outwardly is \ncontained secretly in the innermost. "We cannot truly under- \nstand mind -functions without embracing in our inquiry all \nthe bodily functions and, I might perhaps without exaggera- \ntion say, all the bodily features. \n\nI have already shown this in respect of motor functions, \nby exhibiting how entirely dependent for its expression will \nis upon the organized mechanism of the motor centres \xe2\x80\x94 how, \nin effecting voluntary movements, it presupposes the appro- \npriate education of the motor centres. Few persons, perhaps, \nconsider what a wonderful art speech is, or even remember \nthat it is an art which we acquire. But it actually costs us a \ngreat deal of pains to learn to speak ; all the language which \nan infant has is a cry ; and it is only because we begin to learn \nto talk when we are very young, and are constantly prac- \ntising, that we forget how specially we have had to educate \nour motor centres of speech. Here, however, we come to \nanother pregnant consideration: the acquired faculty of the \n\n\n\n30 BODY AND MIND. \n\neducated motor centre is not only a necessary agency in the \nperformance of a voluntary act, but I maintain that it posi- \ntively enters as a mental element into the composition of the \ndefinite volition ; that, in fact, the specific motor faculty not \nonly acts downward upon the motor nerves, thus executing \nthe movement, but also acts upward upon the mind-centres, \nthereby giving to consciousness the conception of the suitable \nmovement \xe2\x80\x94 the appropriate motor intuition. It is certain \nthat, in order to execute consciously a voluntary act, we must \nhave in the mind a conception of the aim or purpose of the \nact. The will cannot act upon the separate muscles, it can \nonly determine the result desired ; and thereupon the com- \nbined contraction, in due force and rapidity, of the separate \nmuscles takes place in a way that we have no consciousness \nof, and accomplishes the act. The infant directly it is born \ncan suck, certainly not consciously or voluntarily ; on the first \noccasion, at any rate, it can have no notion of the purpose of \nits movements ; but the effect of the action is to excite in the \nmind the special motor intuition, and to lay the foundation \nof the special volition of it. We cannot do an act voluntarily \nunless we know what we are going to do, and we cannot \nknow exactly what we are going to do until we have taught \nourselves to do it. This exact knowledge of the aim of the \nact, which we get by experience, the motor intuition gives us. \nThe essential intervention of the motor intuition, which \nis, as it were, the abstract of the movement, in our mental \nlife, is best illustrated by the movements of speech, but is by \nno means peculiar to them. Each word represents a certain \nassociation and succession of muscular acts, and is itself noth- \ning more than a conventional sign or symbol to mark the par- \nticular muscular expression of a particular idea. The word \nhas not independent vitality ; it differs in different languages ; \nand those who are deprived of the power of articulate speech \nmust make use of other muscular acts to express their ideas, \nspeaking, as it were, in a dumb discourse. There is no reason \non earth, indeed, why a person might not learn to express \n\n\n\nGESTURE LANGUAGE. 31 \n\nevery thought which he can ntter in speech by movements \nof his fingers, limbs, and body \xe2\x80\x94 by the silent language of ges- \nture. The movements of articulation have not, then, a special \nhind of connection with the mind, though their connection is \na specially intimate one ; they are simply the most convenient \nfor the expression of our mental states, because they are so \nnumerous, various, delicate, and complex, and because, in con- \njunction with the muscles of the larynx and the respiratory \nmuscles, they modify sound, and thus make audible language. \nHaving, on this account, been always used as the special in- \nstruments of utterance, their connection with thought is most \nintimate ; the Greeks, in fact, used the word \\6yos to mean \nboth reason and speech. But this does not make the rela- \ntions of the movements of speech to mind different funda- \nmentally from the relations of other voluntary movements to \nmind; and we should be quite as much warranted in assign- \ning to the mind a special faculty of writing, of walking, or of \ngesticulating, as in speaking of a special faculty of speech in it. \nWhat is true of the relations of articulate movements to \nmental states is true of the relations of other movements to \nmental states : they not only express the thought, but, when \notherwise put in action, they can excite the appropriate \nthought. Speak the word, and the idea of which it is the ex- \npression is aroused, though it was not in the mind previously; \nor put other muscles than those of speech into an attitude \nwhich is the normal expression of a certain mental state, and \nthe latter is excited. Most if not all men, when thinking, \nrepeat internally, whisper to themselves, as it were, what they \nare thinking about; and persons of dull and feeble intel- \nligence cannot comprehend what they read, or what is some- \ntimes said to them, without calling the actual movement to \ntheir aid, and repeating the words in a whisper or aloud. As \nspeech has become the almost exclusive mode of expressing \nour thoughts, there not being many gestures of the body \nwhich are the habitual expressions of simple ideas, we cannot \npresent striking examples of the powers of other movements \n\n\n\n32 BODY AND MIND. \n\nto call up the appropriate ideas ; yet the delicate muscular \nadaptations which effect the accommodation of the eye to \nvision at different distances seem really to give to the mind \nits ideas of distance and magnitude. No one actually sees \ndistance and magnitude ; he sees only certain signs from \nwhich he has learned to judge intuitively of them \xe2\x80\x94 the mus- \ncular adaptations, though he is unconscious of them, impart- \ning the suitable intuitions. \n\nThe case is stronger, however, in regard to our emotions. \nVisible muscular expression is to passion what language or \naudible muscular expression is to thought. Bacon rightly, \ntherefore, pointed out the advantage of a study of the forms \nof expression. "For," he says, "the lineaments of the body \ndo disclose the disposition and inclination of the mind in gen- \neral ; but the motions of the countenance and parts do not \nonly so, but do further disclose the present humor and state \nof the mind or will." The muscles of the countenance are \nthe chief exponents of human feeling, much of the variety of \nwhich is due to the action of the orbicular muscles with the \nsystem of elevating and depressing muscles. Animals cannot \nlaugh, because, besides being incapable of ludicrous ideas, \nthey do not possess in sufficient development the orbicular \nmuscle of the lips and the straight muscles which act upon \nthem. It is because of the superadded muscles and of their \ncombined actions \xe2\x80\x94 not combined contraction merely, but \nconsentaneous action, the relaxation of some accompanying \nthe contraction of others \xe2\x80\x94 that the human countenance is \ncapable of expressing a variety of more complex emotions \nthan animals can. Those who would degrade the body, in \norder, as they imagine, to exalt the mind, should consider \nmore deeply than they do the importance of our muscular \nexpressions of feeling. The manifold shades and kinds of \nexpression which the lips present \xe2\x80\x94 their gibes, gambols, and \nflashes of merriment; the quick language of a quivering \nnostril ; the varied waves and ripples of beautiful emotion \nwhich play on the human countenance, with the spasms of \n\n\n\nMUSCULAR EXPRESSION. 33 \n\npassion that disfigure it \xe2\x80\x94 all which we take such pains to \nembody in art \xe2\x80\x94 are simply effects of muscular action, and \nmight be produced by electricity or any other stimulus, if we \ncould only apply it in suitable force to the proper muscles. \n"When the eye is turned upward in rapt devotion, in the \necstasy of supplication, it is for the same reason as it is rolled \nupward in fainting, in sleep, in the agony of death : it is an \ninvoluntary act of the oblique muscles, when the straight \nmuscles cease to act upon it. "We perceive, then, in the study \nof muscular action, the reason why man looks up to heaven \nin prayer, and why he has placed there the power " whence \ncometh his help." A simple property of the body, as Sir 0. \nBell observes \xe2\x80\x94 the fact that the eye in supplication takes \nwhat is its natural position when not acted upon by the will \n\xe2\x80\x94 has influenced our conceptions of heaven, our religious ob- \nservances, and the habitual expression of our highest feelings. \nWhether each passion which is special in kind has its \nspecial bodily expression, and what is the expression of each, \nit would take me too long to examine now. Suffice it to say \nthat the special muscular action is not merely the exponent \nof the passion, but truly an essential part of it. Fix the \ncountenance in the pattern of a particular emotion \xe2\x80\x94 in a \nlook of anger, of wonder, or of scorn \xe2\x80\x94 and the emotion \nwhose appearance is thus imitated will not fail to be aroused. \nAnd if we try, while the features are fixed in the expression \nof one passion, to call up in the mind a quite different one, \nwe shall find it impossible to do so. This agrees with the \nexperiments of Mr. Braid on persons whom he had put into \na state of hypnotism; for, when the features or the limbs \nwere made by him to assume the expression of a particular \nemotion, thereupon the emotion was actually felt by the pa- \ntient, who began to act as if he was under its influence. "We \nperceive then that the muscles are not alone the machinery \nby which the mind acts upon the world, but that their ac- \ntions are essential elements in our mental operations. The \nsuperiority of the human over the animal mind seems to be \n\n\n\n34 BODY AND MIND. \n\nessentially connected with the greater variety of muscular \naction of which man is capable : were he deprived of the in- \nfinitely-varied movements of hands, tongue, larynx, lips, and \nface, in which he is so far ahead of the animals, it is prob- \nable that he would be no better than an idiot, notwithstand- \ning he might have a normal development of brain.* \n\nIf these reflections are well grounded, it is obvious that \ndisorder of the motor centres may have, as I believe it has, \nno little effect upon the phenomena of mental derangement. \nIn some cases of insanity there are genuine muscular hallu- \ncinations, just as there are in dreams sometimes, when the \nmuscles are in a constrained attitude ; and, where the morbid \neffects are not so marked, there is good reason to suppose \nthat a searching inquiry along this almost untrodden path \nwill disclose the mode of generation of many delusions that \nseem now inexplicable. \n\nBut we cannot limit a complete study of mind even by a \nfull knowledge of the functions of the nervous and muscular \nsystems. The organic system has most certainly an essential \npart in the constitution and the functions of mind. In the \ngreat mental revolution caused by the development of the \nsexual system at puberty we have the most striking example \nof the intimate and essential sympathy between the brain as \na mental organ and other organs of the body. The change \nof character at this period is not by any means limited to the \nappearance of the sexual feelings and their sympathetic \nideas, but, when traced to its ultimate reach, will be found \nto extend to the highest feelings of mankind, social, moral, \nand even religious. In its lowest sphere, as a mere animal \niustinct, it is clear that the sexual appetite forces the most \nselfish person out of the little circle of self-feeling into a \nwider feeling of family sympathy and a rudimentary moral \nfeeling. The consequence is that, when an individual is sexu- \n\n* There may "be no little truth, therefore, though not the entire truth, \nin the saying of Anaxagoras, that man is the wisest of animals by reason \nof his having hands. \n\n\n\nORGANIC FUNCTIONS. 35 \n\nally mutilated at an early age, he is emasculated morally as \nwell as physically. Eunuchs are said to be the most de- \npraved creatures morally : they are cowardly, envious liars, \nutterly deceitful, and destitute of real social feeling. And \nthere is certainly a characteristic variety of insanity caused \nby self-abuse, which makes the patient very like a eunuch in \ncharacter. \n\nIt has been affirmed by some philosophers that there is \nno essential difference between the mind of a woman and \nthat of a man; and that if a girl were subjected to the same \neducation as a boy, she would resemble him in tastes, feel- \nings, pursuits, and powers. To my mind it would not be one \nwhit more absurd to affirm that the antlers of the stag, the \nhuman beard, and the cock\'s comb, are effects of education ; \nor that, by putting a girl to the same education as a boy, the \nfemale generative organs might be transformed into male \norgans. The physical and mental differences between the \nsexes intimate themselves very early in life, and declaro \nthemselves most distinctly at puberty : they are connected \nwith the influence of the organs of generation. The forms \nand habits of mutilated men approach those of women ; and \nwomen, whose ovaries and uterus remain from some cause in \na state of complete inaction, approach the forms and habits \nof men. It is said, too, that in hermaphrodites the mental \ncharacter, like the physical, participates equally in that of \nboth sexes. While woman preserves her sex, she will neces- \nsarily be feebler than man, and, having her special bodily \nand mental characters, will have to a certain extent her own \nsphere of activity ; where she has become thoroughly mas- \nculine in nature, or hermaphrodite in mind \xe2\x80\x94 when, in fact, \nshe has pretty well divested herself of her sex \xe2\x80\x94 then she \nmay take his ground, and do his work ; but she will have \nlost her feminine attractions, and probably also her chief \nfeminine functions. \n\nAllowing that the generative organs have their specific \neffect upon the mind, the question occurs whether each of \n\n\n\n36 BODY AND MIND. \n\nthe internal organs has not also a special effect, giving rise to \nparticular feelings with their sympathetic ideas. They are \nnotably united in the closest sympathy, so that, although in- \nsensible to touch, they have a sensibility of their own, by \nvirtue of which they agree in a consent of functions, and re- \nspond more or less to one another\'s sufferings ; and there can \nbe no question that the brain, as the leading member of this \nphysiological union, is sensible of, and affected by, the con- \nditions of its fellow-members. We have not the same oppor- \ntunity of observing the specific effects of other organs that \nwe have in the case of the generative organs ; for while \nthose come into functional action directly after birth, these \ncome into action abruptly at a certain period, and thus ex- \nhibit their specific effects in a decided manner. It may well \nbe, however, that the general uniformity among men in their \npassions and emotions is due to the specific sympathies of \norgans, just as the uniformity of their ideas of external Na- \nture is due to the uniform operation of the organs of sense. \nIt is probable that an exact observation of the mental ef- \nfects of morbid states of the different organs would help the \ninquiry into the feelings and desires of the mind which owe \ntheir origin to particular organs. What are the psychological \nfeatures of disease of the heart, disease of the lungs, disease \nof the liver? They are unquestionably different in each case. \nThe inquiry, which has never yet been seriously attempted, \nis, without doubt, a difficult one, but I believe that the phe- \nnomena of dreams might, if carefully observed, afford some \nhelp. The ground-tone of feeling in a dream, the background \non which the phantoms move, is often determined by the \nstate of an internal organ, the irritation of which awakens \ninto some degree of activity that part of the brain with \nwhich the organ is in specific sympathy ; accordingly sympa- \nthetic ideas spring out of the feeling and unite in a more or \nless coherent dream-drama. How plainly this happens in the \ncase of the generative organs it is unnecessary to j>oint out : \nexciting their specific dreams, they teach a lesson concerning \n\n\n\nSPECIFIC ORGANIC SYMPATHIES. 37 \n\nphysiological sympathies which, applied to the observation \nof the effects of other organs, may be largely useful in the \ninterpretation, not of dreams only, but of the phenomena of \ninsanity. Dreams furnish a particularly fruitful field for the \n.study of the specific effects of organs on mind, because these \neffects are more distinctly felt and more distinctly declared \nwhen the impressions from the external senses are shut out \nby sleep. As the stars are not visible, although they still \nshine, in the daytime, so the effects of an internal organ may \nnot be perceptible during the waking state while conscious- \nness is actively engaged. But just as, when the sun goes \ndown, the stars shine visibly, which before were invisible, \nveiled by his greater light, so when active consciousness is \nsuspended, organic sympathies, which before were iusensible, \ndeclare themselves in the mind. Perhaps it is in the excita- \ntion of its sympathetic feeling and ideas by a disordered organ \nduring sleep that we may discover the explanation of a fact \nwhich seems to be undoubted, and to be more than accident- \nal \xe2\x80\x94 namely, that a person has sometimes dreamed propheti- \ncally that he would have a particular internal disease, before \nhe consciously felt a symptom of it, and has been afterward \nsurprised to find his dream come true. \n\nIt is natural to suppose that the passion which a particu- \nlar organ produces in the mind will be that which, when \notherwise excited, discharges itself specially upon that organ. \nNotably this is the case with the sexual organs and the pas- \nsion to which they minister. When we consider the effects \nwhich a joyful anticipation, or the elation of a present ex- \ncitement, has upon the lungs \xe2\x80\x94 the accelerated breathing and \nthe general bodily exhilaration which it occasions \xe2\x80\x94 we can- \nnot help thinking of the strange hopefulness and the sanguine \nexpectations of the consumptive patient, who, on the edge \nof the grave, projects, without a shadow of distrust, what he \nwill do long after he will have been "green in death and fes- \ntering in his shroud." Observe how fear strikes the heart, \nand what anxious fear and apprehension accompany some \n\n\n\n38 BODY AND MIND. \n\naffections of the heart. Anger, disappointment, and envy, \nnotably touch the liver ; which, in its turn, when deranged, \nengenders a gloomy tone of mind through which all things \nhave a malignant look, and from which, when philosophy \navails not to free us, the restoration of its functions will \nyield instant relief. The internal organs are plainly not the \nagents of their special functions only, but, by reason of the \nintimate consent or sympathy of functions, they are essential \nconstituents of our mental life. \n\nThe time yet at my disposal will not allow me to do more \nthan mention the effects of mental states on the intimate pro- \ncesses of nutrition and secretion. Emotion may undoubtedly \nfavor, hinder, or pervert nutrition, and increase, lessen, or \nalter a secretion ; in doing which there is reason to think \nthat it acts, not only by dilating or contracting the vessels \nthrough the vaso-motor system, as we witness in the blush \nof shame and the pallor of fear, but also directly on the or- \nganic elements of the part through the nerves, which, as the \nlatest researches seem to show, end in them sometimes by \ncontinuity of substance. If they do so end, it is difficult to \nconceive how a strong emotion vibrating to the ultimate \nfibrils of a nerve can fail to affect for a moment or longer \nthe functions of the organic elements. Be this so or not, \nhowever, the familiar observations\xe2\x80\x94 first, that a lively hope \nor joy exerts an enlivening effect upon the bodily life, quiet \nand equable when moderate, but, when stronger, evinced in \nthe brilliancy of the eye, in the quickened pulse and respira- \ntion, in an inclination to laugh and sing ; and, secondly, that \ngrief or other depressing passion has an opposite effect, re- \nlaxing the arteries, enfeebling the heart, making the eye dull, \nimpeding digestion, and producing an inclination to sigh and \nweep \xe2\x80\x94 these familiar observations of opposite effects indicate \nthe large part which mental states may play, not in the \ncausation of all sorts of disease alone, but in aiding recov- \nery from them. A sudden and great mental shock may, like \na great physical shock, and perhaps in the same way, par- \n\n\n\nINFLUENCE OF MIND ON BODY. 39 \n\nalyze for a time all the bodily and mental functions, or cause \ninstant death. It may, again, produce epilepsy, apoplexy, or \ninsanity ; while a prolonged state of depression and anxiety \nis sometimes an important agent in the causation of chronic \ndisease, such as diabetes and heart-disease. Can it be \ndoubted, too, that the strong belief that a bodily disorder \nwill be cured by some appliance, itself innocent of good or \nharm, may so affect beneficially the nutrition of the part as \nactually to effect a cure ? To me it seems not unreasonable \nto suppose that the mind may stamp its tone, if not its very \nfeatures, on the individual elements of the body, inspiring \nthem with hope and energy, or infecting them with despair \nand feebleness. A separated portion of the body, so little \nthat our naked eye can make nothing of it, the spermatozoon \nof the male and the ovum of the female, does at any rate \ncontain, in a latent state, the essential characters of the \nmind and body of the individual from whom it has pro- \nceeded ; and, as we are utterly ignorant how this myste- \nrious effect is accomplished, we are certainly not in a posi- \ntion to deny that what is true of the spermatozoon and ovum \nmay be true of other organic elements. And, if this be so, \nthen those who profess to discover the character of the in- \ndividual in the character of the nose, the hand the features, \nor other part of the body, may have a foundation of truth \nfor speculations which are yet only vague, fanciful, and val- \nueless. \n\nPerhaps we do not, as physicians, consider sufficiently the \ninfluence of mental states in the production of disease, and \ntheir importance as symptoms, or take all the advantage \nwhich we might take of them in our efforts to cure it. Quack- \nery seems to have here got hold of a truth which legitimate \nmedicine fails to appreciate and use adequately. Assuredly \nthe most successful physician is he who, inspiring the great- \nest confidence in his remedies, strengthens and exalts the im- \nagination of his patient : if he orders a few drops of pepper- \nmint-water with the confident air of curing the disease, will \n\n\n\n40 BODY AND MIND. \n\nlie not really do more sometimes for the patient than one who \ntreats him in the most approved scientific way, hut without \ninspiring a conviction of recovery ? Ceremonies, charms, ges- \nticulations, amulets, and the like, have in all ages and among \nall nations heen greatly esteemed and largely used in the \ntreatment of disease ; and it may he speciously presumed that \nthey have derived their power, not from any contract with \nthe supernatural, hut, as Bacon observes, by strengthening \nand exalting the imagination of him who used them. En- \ntirely ignorant as we are, and probably ever shall be, of the \nnature of mind, groping feebly for the laws of its operation, \nwe certainly cannot venture to set bounds to its power over \nthose intimate and insensible molecular movements which \nare the basis of all our visible bodily functions, any more than \nwe can justly venture to set bounds to its action in the vast \nand ever-progressing evolution of Nature, of which all our \nthoughts and works are but a part. This much we do know : \nthat as, on the one hand, in the macrocosm of Nature, it is \ncertain that the true idea once evolved is imperishable \xe2\x80\x94 that \nit passes from individual to individual, from nation to nation, \nfrom generation to generation, becoming the eternal and ex- \nalting possession of man \xe2\x80\x94 so, on the other hand, in the mi- \ncrocosm of the body, which some ignorantly despise, there \nare many more things in the reciprocal action of mind and \norganic element than are yet dreamed of in our philosophy. \n\n\n\nLECTURE II. \n\nGentlemen : In ray last lecture I gave a general survey \nof the physiology of our mental functions, showing how in- \ndissolubly they are bound up with the bodily functions, and \nhow barren must of necessity be a study of mind apart from \nbody. I pointed out that the higher mental operations were \nfunctions of the supreme nerve-centres ; but that, though of \na higher and more complex nature than the functions of the \nlower nerve-centres, they obeyed the same physiological laws \nof evolution, and could be best approached through a knowl- \nedge of them. I now propose to show that the phenomena \nof the derangement of mind bear out fully this view of its na- \nture ; that we have not to deal with disease of a metaphys- \nical entity, which the method of inductive inquiry cannot \nreach, nor the resources of the medical art touch, but with \ndisease of the nervous system, disclosing itself by physical \nand mental symptoms. I say advisedly physical and mental, \nbecause in most, if not all, cases of insanity, at one period or \nother of their course, there are, in addition to the prominent \nmental features, symptoms of disordered nutrition and secre- \ntion, of disordered sensibility, or of disordered motility. Nei- \nther in health nor in disease is the mind imprisoned in one \ncorner of the body ; and, when a person is lunatic, he is, as \nDr. Bucknill has remarked, lunatic to his fingers\' ends. \n\nMental disorders are neither more nor less than nervous dis- \neases in which mental symptoms predominate, and their entire \nseparation from other nervous diseases has been a sad hin- \n\n\n\n42 BODY AND MIND. \n\nderance to progress. When a blow on the head has paralyzed \nsensibility and movement, in consequence of the disease in \nthe brain which it has initiated, the patient is sent to the \nhospital ; but when a blow on the head has caused mental \nderangement, in consequence of the disease of brain which it \nhas initiated, the patient is sent to an asylum. In like man- \nner, one man who has unluckily swallowed the eggs of a \ntaenia, and has got a cysticercus in the brain, may go to the \nhospital ; another who has been similarly unlucky goes to an \nasylum. Syphilitic disease of the brain or its arteries lands \none person in an asylum with mental symptoms predominant, \nanother in a hospital with sensory and motor disorder pre- \ndominant. The same cause produces different symptoms, ac- \ncording to the part of the brain which it particularly affects. \nE~o doubt it is right that mental derangements should have, \nas they often require, the special appliances of an asylum, \nbut it is certainly not right that the separation which is neces- \nsary for treatment should reach to their pathology and to the \nmethod of its study. So long as this is the case, we shall \nlabor in vain to get exact scientific ideas concerning their \ncausation, their pathology, and their treatment. \n\nClearing, then, the question as completely as possible from \nthe haze which metaphysics has cast around it, let us ask \xe2\x80\x94 \nHow comes idiocy, or insanity ? What is the scientific mean- \ning of them ? We may take it to be beyond question that \nthey are not accidents; that they come to pass, as every \nother event in Nature does, by natural law. They are mys- \nterious visitations only because we understand not the laws \nof their production, appear casualties only because we are \nignorant of their causality. When a blow on the head or an \ninflammation of the membranes of the brain has produced \nderangement of mind, we need not look farther for a cause : \nthe actual harm done to structure is sufficient to account for \ndisorder of function in the best-constituted and best-developed \nbrain. But it is only in a small proportion of cases of insanity \nthat we can discover such a direct physical occasion of disease. \n\n\n\nIDIOCY. 43 \n\nIn a great many cases \xe2\x80\x94 in more than half, certainly, and per- \nhaps in five out of six \xe2\x80\x94 there is something in the nervous \norganization of the person, some native peculiarity, which, \nhowever we name it, predisposes him to an outbreak of in- \nsanity. When two persons undergo a similar moral shock, \nor a similar prolonged anxiety, and one of them goes mad in \nconsequence, while the other goes to sleep and goes to work \nand recovers his equanimity, it is plain that all the cooper- \nating conditions have not been the same, that the entire \ncause has been different. What, then, has been the differ- \nence ? In the former case there has been present a most im- \nportant element, which was happily wanting in the latter \xe2\x80\x94 \nthere has been a certain hereditary neurosis, an unknown and \nvariable quantity in the equation. \n\nPerhaps of all the erroneous notions concerning mind \nwhich metaphysics has engendered or abetted, there is none \nmore false than that which tacitly assumes or explicitly de- \nclares that men are born with equal original mental capacity, \nopportunities and education determining the differences of \nsubsequent development. The opinion is as cruel as it is false. \nWhat man can by taking thought add one cubit either to his \nmental or to his bodily stature ? Multitudes of human beings \ncome into the world weighted with a destiny against which \nthey have neither the will nor the power to contend ; they are \nthe step-children of Nature, and groan under the worst of all \ntyrannies \xe2\x80\x94 the tyranny of a bad organization. Men differ, in- \ndeed, in the fundamental characters of their minds, as they do \nin the features of their countenances, or in the habits of their \nbodies; and between those who are born with the poten- \ntiality of a full and complete mental development, under fa- \nvorable circumstances, and those who are born with an \ninnate incapacity of mental development, under any circum- \nstances, there exists every gradation. What teaching could \never raise the congenital idiot to the common level of hu- \nman intelligence? What teaching could ever keep the in- \nspired mind of the man of genius at that level? \n\n\n\n44 BODY AND MIND. \n\nThe congenital idiot is deprived of his human birthright; \nfor he is born with such a defect of brain that he cannot \ndisplay any, or can only display very feeble and imperfect \nmental functions. From no fault of his own is he thus afflict- \ned, seeing that he must be held innocent of all offence but \nthe offence of his share of original sin ; but it is nowise so \nclear that it is not from some fault of his parents. It is all too \ntrue that, in many cases, there has observably been a neglect \nor disregard of the laws which govern the progress of human \ndevelopment through the ages. Idiocy is, indeed, a manufac- \ntured article ; and, although we are not always able to tell \nhow it is manufactured, still its important causes are known \nand are within control. Many cases are distinctly traceable \nto parental intemperance and excess. Out of 300 idiots in \nMassachusetts, Dr. Howe found as many as 145 to be the off- \nspring of intemperate parents ; and there are numerous scat- \ntered observations which prove that chronic alcoholism in \nthe parent may directly occasion idiocy in the child. I think, \ntoo, that there is no reasonable question of the ill effects of \nmarriages of consanguinity : that their tendency is to pro- \nduce degeneracy of the race, and idiocy as the extremest \nform of such degeneracy. I do not say that all the children \nof such marriages may not sometimes be healthy, and some \nof them quite healthy at other times ; but the general and \nultimate result of breeding in and in is to produce barrenness \nand sterility, children of a low degree of viability and of \nimperfect mental and physical development, deaf-mutism, and \nactual imbecility or idiocy. Again, insanity in the parent \nmay issue in idiocy in the offspring, which is, so to speak, the \nnatural term of mental degeneracy when it goes on un- \nchecked through generations. It may be affirmed with no \nlittle confidence that, if the experiment of intermarrying in- \nsane persons for two or three generations were tried, the re- \nsult would be sterile idiocy and extinction of the family. \nCertain unfavorable conditions of life tend unquestionably to \nproduce degeneracy of the individual ; the morbid predispo- \n\n\n\nDEGENERATE VARIETIES. 45 \n\nsition so generated is then transmitted to the next generation, \nand, if the unfavorable conditions continue, is aggravated in \nit ; and thus is formed a morbid variety of the human kind, \nwhich is incapable of being a link in the line of progress of \nhumanity. Nature puts it under the ban of sterility, and \nthus prevents the permanent degradation of the race. Morel \nhas traced through four generations the family history of a \nyouth who was admitted into the asylum at Kouen in a state \nof stupidity and semi-idiocy; the summary of which may \nfitly illustrate the natural course of degeneracy when it goes \non through generations. \n\nFirst generation : Immorality, depravity, alcoholic ex- \ncess and moral degradation, in the great-grandfather, who \nwas killed in a tavern-brawl. \n\nSecond generation : Hereditary drunkenness, maniacal at- \ntacks, ending in general paralysis, in the grandfather. \n\nThird generation : Sobriety, but hypochondriacal tenden- \ncies, delusions of persecutions, and homicidal tendencies in \nthe father. \n\nFourth generation: Defective intelligence. First attack \nof mania at sixteen; stupidity, and transition to complete \nidiocy. Furthermore, probable extinction of the family ; \nfor the generative functions were as little developed as those \nof a child of twelve years of age. He had two sisters who \nwere both defective physically and morally, and were classed \nas imbeciles. To complete the proof of heredity in this case, \nMorel adds that the mother had a child while the father was \nconfined in the asylum, and that this adulterous child showed \nno signs of degeneracy. \n\nWhen epilepsy in young children leads to idiocy, as it \noften does, we must generally look for the deep root of the \nmischief in the family neurosis. \n\nNo one can well dispute that, in the case of such an \nextreme morbid variety as a congenital idiot is, we have to \ndo with a defective nervous organization. We are still, \nhowever, without more than a very few exact descriptions \n\n\n\n46 BODY AND MIND. \n\nof the brains of idiots. Mr. Marshall has recently examined \nand described the brains of two idiots of European descent. \nHe found the convolutions to be fewer in number, individu- \nally less complex, broader and smoother, than in the apes : \na In this respect," he says, "the idiots\' brains are even more \nsimple than that of the gibbon, and approach that of the \nbaboon." The condition was the result neither of atrophy \nnor of mere arrest of growth, but consisted essentially in an \nimperfect evolution of the cerebral hemispheres or their \nparts, dependent on an arrest of development. The propor- \ntion of the weight of brain to that of body was extraordinarily \ndiminished. We learn, then, that when man is born with a \nbrain no higher \xe2\x80\x94 indeed, lower \xe2\x80\x94 than that of an ape, he may \nhave the convolutions fewer in number, and individually less \ncomplex, than they are in the brain of a chimpanzee and an \norang; the human brain may revert to, or fall below, that \ntype of development from which, if the theory of Darwin be \ntrue, it has gradually ascended by evolution through the \nages. \n\nWith the defect of organ there is a corresponding defect \nof function. But there is sometimes more than a simple \ndefect. A curious and interesting fact, which has by no \nmeans yet received the consideration w r hich it deserves, is \nthat, with the appearance of this animal type of brain in \nidiocy, there do sometimes appear or reappear remarkable \nanimal traits and instincts. There is a class of idiots which \nmay justly be designated theroid, so like brutes are the mem- \nbers of it. The old stories of so-called wild men, such as \nPeter the wild boy, and the young savage of Aveyron, who \nran wild in the woods and lived on acorns and whatever else \nthey could pick up there, were certainly exaggerated at the \ntime. These degraded beings were evidently idiots, who \nexhibited a somewhat striking aptitude and capacity for a \nwild animal life. Dr. Carpenter, however, quotes the case \nof an idiot girl, who was seduced by some miscreant, and \nwho, when she was delivered, gnawed through the umbilical \n\n\n\nTHEROID DEGENERACY. 47 \n\ncord as some of the lower animals do. And Dr. Crichton \nBrown, of the "West Kiding Asylum, records a "somewhat \nsimilar case in a young woman, not an idiot naturally, but \nwho had gone completely demented after insanity. She had \nbeen in the habit of escaping from home, and of living in \nsolitude in the woods, feeding upon wild fruits or what she \ncould occasionally beg at a cottage, and sleeping in the brush- \nwood. She had frequently lived in this manner for a fort- \nnight at a time. During one of these absences she was \ndelivered of twins ; she had sought out a sheltered hollow, \nand there, reverting to a primitive instinct, gnawed through \nthe umbilical cord. The twins were alive when found two \ndays after birth, but the mother was in a very exhausted \nstate, having had no food or covering since her delivery. \n" We have at Salpetriere," says Esquirol, " an imbecile woman, \nwho used to earn a few sous By doing rough household \nwork. It has happened on several occasions that as soon as \nshe got her sous she took them to a laborer, and gave herself \nup to his brutality ; but when she was pregnant she went no \nmore to him." \n\nIn the conformation and habits of other idiots the most \ncareless observer could not help seeing the ape. A striking \ninstance of this kind is described by Dr. ffitcjiell. Deputy \nCommissioner in Lunacy for Scotland. "I have never," he \nsays, " seen a better illustration of the ape-faced idiot than in \nthis case. It is not, however, the face alone that is ape- \nlike. He grins, chatters, and screams like a monkey, never \nattempting a sound in any way resembling a word. He puts \nhimself in the most ape-like attitude in his hunts after lice, \nand often brings his mouth to help his hands. He grasps \nwhat he brings to his mouth with an apish hold. His thumbs \nare but additional fingers. He has a leaping walk. He has \nheavy eyebrows, and short hair on his cheek or face. He is \nmuscular, active, and not dwarfish. He sits on the floor in \nape fashion, with his genitals always exposed. He has filthy \nhabits of all kinds. He may be called an idiot of the lowest \n\n\n\n48 BODY AND MIND. \n\norder ; yet there is a mischievous brute-like intelligence in his \neye. His head is not very small, its greatest circumference \nbeing twenty inches and a half, but in shape it strongly \nexhibits the ape-form of abnormality." \n\nPinel has recorded the case of an idiot who was some- \nthing like a sheep, both in respect of her tastes, her mode of \nlife, and the form of her head. She had an aversion to meat, \nand ate fruit and vegetables greedily, and drank nothing but \nwater. Her demonstrations of sensibility, joy, or trouble, \nwere confined to the repetition of the ill-articulated words, \nde, ma, dah. She alternately bent and raised her head, and \nrubbed herself against the belly of the girl who attended \nher. If she wanted to resist or express her discontent, she \ntried to butt with the crown of her head ; she was very pas- \nsionate. Her back, her loins, and shoulders, were covered \nwith flexible and blackish hairs one or two inches long. She \nnever could be made to sit on a chair or bench, even when at \nmeals ; as soon as she was placed in a sitting posture, she \nglided on the floor. She slept on the floor in the posture of \nanimals. \n\nThere is now under care, in the West Eiding Asylum, a \ndeformed idiot girl who, in general appearance and habits, \nhas, according to Dr. Brown, striking features of resemblance \nto a goose ; so much so, that the nurses who received her de- \nscribed her as just like " a plucked. goose." Her father died \nin the asylum, and her mother\'s sister was also a patient in it \nat one time. She is four feet two inches in height, has a small \nhead, and thin and scanty hair, so that the -crown of the head \nis partially bald. The eyes are large, round, prominent, and \nrestless, and are frequently covered by the eyelids, as if by a \nslow, forcible effort at winking. The lower jaw is large, \nprojecting more than one inch beyond the contracted upper \njaw, and possesses an extraordinary range of anteropos- \nterior, as well as lateral, movement ; the whole configuration \nof the lower part of the face having a somewhat bill-like ap- \npearance. The neck is unusually long and flexible, and is \n\n\n\nTHEROID IDIOCY. 49 \n\ncapable of being bent backward so as actually to touch the \nback between the scapulse. The cutis anserina is general \nover the body, but is most marked on the back and dorsal \naspects of the limbs, where it looks exactly as if it had been \njust deprived of feathers. The inferior angles of the scapulas \nstand prominently out, and moving freely with the movements \nof the arms have precisely the appearance of rudimentary \nwings. The girl utters no articulate sounds, but expresses \npleasure by cackling like a goose, and displeasure by hissing \nor screeching like a goose, or perhaps like a macaw. When \nangry, she flaps her arms against her sides and beats her feet \nupon the floor. She knows her own name, and understands \none or two short sentences, such as " Come here " and "Put \nout your hand." She recognizes the persons who attend \nupon her, and feed her, and is much agitated if touched by a \nstranger. She cannot feed herself, but swallows voraciously \nall thai is put into her mouth, showing no preference for one \narticle of diet over another. She is dirty in her habits, and \nno amount of attention has improved her in this respect. \nShe is very fond of her bath, cackling when she is put into it. \nand screeching when she is taken out of it.* \n\nIt is a natural question, Whence come these animal traits \n\n* The following account of an idiot in the Western Counties Idiot Asy- \nlum has been communicated to me by Mr. Kenton, surgeon to the Asylum : \nShe is "between 15 and 16 years old, has a very small head, but is well formed \notherwise, and well nourished. She has little or no intellect, not being able \nto speak, and barely understanding a few signs. By careful treatment she \nhas been taught to feed herself, but there her education has reached its \nlimit. She has been left to herself, and watched with a view to observe her \nnatural habits. When alone in the garden, she chooses a quiet spot among \nthe shrubs, and, sitting down, will bene! forward with her small head be- \ntween her thighs, and occupy herself in picking imaginary insects from the \nadjacent parts of her body, pretending to pick them and to throw them \naway. She will then wander about, and finding a suitable bough, will \nswing by her hands, and then double her legs over the branch and swing \nWith her head downward. She will steal any thing she fancies,; and hide it \naway; will suddenly spring upon any child near and bite and scratch it; \nand then in a moment look as demure as if she had done nothing. At cer- \ntain times she will go under the shrubs, scratch a hole with her hands in \n\n3 \n\n\n\n50 BODY AND MIND. \n\nand instincts in man? Whence was derived the instinct \nwhich taught the idiot woman to gnaw through the umbilical \ncord ? Was it really the reappearance of a primitive instinct \nof animal nature \xe2\x80\x94 a faint echo from a far-distant past, testi- \nfying to a kinship which man has almost outgrown, or has \ngrown too proud to acknowledge? No doubt such animal \ntraits are marks of extreme human degeneracy, but it is no \nexplanation to call them so ; degenerations come by law, and \nare as natural as natural law can make them. Instead of \npassing them by as abnormal, or, worse still, stigmatizing \nthem as unnatural, it behooves us to seek for the scientific \ninterpretation which they must certainly have. When we \nreflect that every human brain does, in the course of its de- \nvelopment, pass through the same stages as the brains of \nother vertebrate animals, and that its transitional states re- \nsemble the permanent forms of their brains ; and when we \nreflect farther, that the stages of its development in the \nwomb may be considered the abstract and brief chronicle of \na series of developments that have gone on through countless \nages in Nature, it does not seem so wonderful, as at the first \nblush it might do, that it should, when in a condition of \narrested development, sometimes display animal instincts. \nSumming up, as it were, in itself the leading forms of the \nvertebrate type, there is truly a brute brain within the man\'s; \nand when the latter stops short of its characteristic develop- \nment as human \xe2\x80\x94 when it remains arrested at or below the \nlevel of an orang\'s brain \xe2\x80\x94 it may be presumed that it will \nmanifest its most primitive functions, and no higher functions. \n\nthe ground, sit down upon it as a cat does, then turn round and carefully \ncover the spot by scraping the earth over it with her hands. She tears her \nclothes up into strips, and hides the pieces. Mr. Kenton mentions another \nidiot under his care, who puts every thing to his nose before putting it into \nhis mouth. This he does, not hastily, but deliberately, examining each \npiece of food carefully by hi3 sense of smell. He greatly dislikes butter, \nand will not eat pie-crust or any cooked food which contains butter, and he \ndetects it3 presence with certainty by the sense of smell. He will not kiss \nany one till he has sniffGd at the person first. \n\n\n\nCEREBRAL DEVELOPMENT. 51 \n\nI am not aware of any other considerations than those just \nadduced which offer even the glimpse of an explanation of \nthe origin of these animal traits in man. We need not, how- \never, confine our attention to idiots only. Whence come the \nsavage snarl, the destructive disposition, the obscene lan- \nguage, the wild howl, the offensive habits, displayed by some \nof the insane ? Why should a human being deprived of his \nreason ever become so brutal in character as some do, unless \nhe has the brute nature within him? In most large asylums \nthere is one, or more than one, example of a demented per- \nson who truly ruminates : bolting his food rapidly, he retires \nafterward to a corner, where at his leisure he quietly brings \nit up again into the mouth and masticates it as the cow does. \nI should take up a long time if I were to enumerate the \nvarious brute-like characteristics that are at times witnessed \namong the insane ; enough to say that some very strong facts \nand arguments in support of Mr. Darwin\'s views might be \ndrawn from the field of morbid psychology. We may, with- \nout much difficulty, trace savagery in civilization, as we can \ntrace animalism in savagery ; and, in the degeneration of in- \nsanity, in the urikinding, so to say, of the human kind, there \nare exhibited marks denoting the elementary instincts of its \ncomposition. \n\nIt behooves us, as scientific inquirers, to realize distinctly \nthe physical meaning of the progress of human intelligence \nfrom generation to generation. What structural differences \nin the brain are implied by it ? That an increasing purpose \nruns through the ages and that "the thoughts of men are \nwidened with the process of the suns," no one will call in \nquestion ; and that this progress has been accompanied by a \nprogressive development of the cerebral hemispheres, the \nconvolutions of which have increased in size, number, and \ncomplexity, will hardly now be disputed. Whether the frag- \nments of ancient human crania which have been discovered \nin Europe do or do not testify to the existence of a barbarous \nrace that disappeared before historical time, they certainly \n\n\n\n52 BODY AND MIND. \n\nmark a race not higher than the lowest surviving human va- \nriety. Dr. Pritchard\'s comparison of the skulls of the same \nnation at different periods of its history led him to the con- \nclusion that the present inhabitants of Britain, " either as the \nresult of many ages of great intellectual cultivation or from \nsome other cause, have much more capacious brain-cases \nthan their forefathers." Yet stronger evidence of a growth \nof brain with the growth of intelligence is furnished by an \nexamination of the brains of existing savages. Gratiolet has \nfigured and described the brain of the Hottentot Yenus, who \nwas nowise an idiot. He found a striking simplicity and a \nregular arrangement of the convolution of the frontal lobes, \nwhich presented an almost perfect symmetry in the two \nhemispheres, involuntarily recalling the regularity and sym- \nmetry of the cerebral convolutions in the lower animals. \nThe brain was palpably inferior to that of a normally-de- \nveloped white woman, and could only be compared with the \nbrain of a white idiotic from arrest of cerebral development. \nMr. Marshall has also recently examined the brain of a Bush- \nwoman, and has discovered like evidence of structural inferi- \nority : the primary convolutions, although all present, were \nsmaller and much less complicated than in the European ; \nthe external connecting convolutions were still more remark- \nably defective ; the secondary sulci and convolutions were \neverywhere decidedly less developed ; there was a deficiency \nof transverse commissural fibres ; and in size, and every one \nof the signs of comparative inferiority, "it leaned, as it were, \nto the higher quadrumanous forms." The developmental dif- \nferences between this brain and the brain of a European \nwere in fact of the same kind as, though less in degree than, \nthose between the brain of an ape and that of a man. \nAmong Europeans the average weight of the brain is greater \nin educated than in uneducated persons ; it\'s size \xe2\x80\x94 other cir- \ncumstances being equal \xe2\x80\x94 bearing a general relation to the \nmental power of the individual. Dr. Thurnam concludes, \nfrom a series of carefully-compiled tables, that while \n\n\n\nBRAIN-WEIGHTS. 53 \n\nthe average weight of the brain in ordinary Europeans \nis 49 oz., it was 54.7 oz. in ten distinguished men; and \nProf. Wagner found a remarkably complex arrangement \nof the convolutions in the brains of five very eminent \nmen which he examined.* Thus, then, while we take it to \nbe well established that the convolutions of the human brain \nhave undergone a considerable development through the ages, \nwe may no less justly conclude that its larger, more numer- \nous, and complex convolutions reproduce the higher and more \nvaried mental activity to the progressive evolution of which \ntheir progressive increase has answered \xe2\x80\x94 that they manifest \nthe kind of function which has determined the structure. \nThe vesicular neurine has increased in quantity and in qual- \nity, and the function of the increased and more highly-en- \ndowed structure is to display that intelligence which it un- \n\n*The following table is compiled from Dr. Thurnam\'s paper "On the \nWeight of the Human Brain " (Journal of Mental Science, April, 1866) : \n\nBRAIN-WEIGHTS OF DISTINGUISHED MEN. \n\nAges. Oz. \n\n1. Cuvier, Naturalist 63 64.5 \n\n2. Abercrombie, Physician 64 63 \n\n3. Spurzheim, Physician 56 55.06 \n\n4. Dirichlet, Mathematician 54 55.6 \n\n5. De Moray, Statesman and Courtier . . . . 50 53.6 \n\n6. Daniel Webster, Statesman 70 53.5 \n\n7. Campbell, Lord- Chancellor .80 53.5 \n\n8. Chalmers, celebrated Preacher ..... 67 53 \n\n9. Fuchs, Pathologist .... ... 52 52.9 \n\n10. Gauss, Mathematician ....... 78 52.6 \n\nAverage of ten distinguished men .... 50-70 54.7 \n\nBrain-weights of average European men . . \xe2\x80\xa2 "1 50-70 47 1 \n\nAverage brain-weight of male negroes . . . . . 44.3 \n\n. " 14 congenital idiots (males) . . 42 \n\n" 8 " " (females) . . 41.2 \n\nEstimated brain-weight of Microcephalic idiocy (males) . . 37.5 \n\n" (females) . 32.5 \nIt may be proper to add that the average weight of the adult male brain \nis 10 per cent, greater than that of the female\xe2\x80\x94 100 : 90. The brains of the \nHottentot, Bushman, and Australian are, so far as observation goes, of less \nweight than those of negroes. \n\n\n\n54 BODY AND MIND. \n\nconsciously embodies. The native Australian, who is one of \nthe lowest existing savages, has no words in his language to \nexpress such exalted ideas as justice, love, virtue, mercy; lie \nhas no such ideas in his mind, and cannot comprehend them. \nThe vesicular neurine which should embody them in its con- \nstitution and manifest them in its function has not been de- \nveloped in his convolutions; he is as incapable therefore of \nthe higher mental displays of abstract reasoning and moral \nfeeling as an idiot is, and for a like reason. Indeed, w^ere we \nto imagine a person born in this country, at this time, with \na brain of no higher development than the brain of an Aus- \ntralian savage or a Bushman, it is perfectly certain that he \nwould be more or less of an^imbecile. And the only way, I \nsuppose, in which beings of so low an order of development \ncould be raised to a civilized level of feeling and thought \nwould be by cultivation continued through several genera- \ntions ; they would have to undergo a gradual process of hu- \nmanization before they could attain to the capacity of civili- \nzation. \n\nSome, who one moment own freely the broad truth that \nall mental manifestations take place through the brain, go \non, nevertheless, to straightway deny that the conscience or \nmoral sensibility can be a function of organization. But, if \nall mental operations are not in this world equally functions \nof organization, I know not what warrant we have for de- \nclaring any to be so. The solution of the much-vexed ques- \ntion concerning the origin of the moral sense seems to lie in \nthe considerations just adduced. Are not, indeed, our moral \nintuitions results of the operation of the fundamental law of \nnervous organization by which that which is consciously ac- \nquired becomes an unconscious endowment, and is then \ntransmitted as more or less of an instinct to the next genera- \ntion? They are examples of knowledge which has been \nhardly gained through the suffering and experience of the \nrace, being now inherited as a natural or instinctive sensi- \nbility of the well-constituted brain of the individual. In the \n\n\n\nTHE MORAL SENSE. 55 \n\nmatter of our moral feelings we are most truly the heirs of \nthe ages. Take the moral sense, and examine the actions \nwhich it sanctions and those which it forbids, and thus ana- \nlyze, or, as it were, decompose, its nature, and it will he found \nthat the actions which it sanctions are those which may he \nproved by sober reason to be conducive to the well-being and \nthe progress of the race, and that its prohibitions fall upon \nthe actions which, if freely indulged in, would lead to the \ndegeneration, if not extinction, of mankind. And if we \ncould imagine the human race to live back again to its ear- \nliest infancy \xe2\x80\x94 to go backward through all the scenes and \nexperiences through whicli it has gone forward to its present \nheight \xe2\x80\x94 and to give back from its mind and character at \neach time and circumstance, as it passed it, exactly that \nwhich it gained when it was there before \xe2\x80\x94 should we not \nfind the fragments and exuvias of the moral sense lying here \nand there along the retrograde path, and a condition at the \nbeginning which, whether simian or humai^ v^as bare of al 1 \ntrue moral feeling ? * \n\nWe are daily witnesses of, and our daily actions testify \nto, the operation of that plastic law of nervous organization \nby which separate and successive acquisitions are combined \nand so intimately blended as to constitute apparently a sin- \ngle and undecomposable faculty : we observe it in the forma- \ntion of our volitions; and we observe it, in a more simple \nand less disputable form, in the way in which combinations \nof movements that have been slowly formed by practice are \nexecuted finally as easily as if they were a single and sim- \nple movement. If the moral sense \xe2\x80\x94 which is derived, then, \ninsomuch as it has been acquired in the process of human \ndevelopment through the ages \xe2\x80\x94 were not more or less innate \nin the well-born individual of this age, if he were obliged to \ngo, as the generations of his forefathers have gone, through \n\n* Foster, in his \',\' Essay on Decision of Character, 1 \' makes this concep- \ntion of the individual character, almost ir> the words used ; but the applica- \ntion of it to the race, and the conclusion drawn, are of course not his. \n\n\n\noQ BODY AND MIND. \n\nthe elementary process of acquiring it, he would be very \nmucli in the position of a person who, on each occasion of \nwriting his name, had to go through the elementary steps of \nlearning to do so. The progressive evolution of the human \nbrain is a proof that we do inherit as a natural endowment \nthe labored acquisitions of our ancestors ; the added struct- \nure represents, as it were, the embodied experience and \nmemories of the race ; and there is no greater difficulty in \nbelieving that the moral sense may have been so formed, than \nin believing, what has long been known and is admitted on \nall hands, that the young fox or young dog inherits as an in- \nstinct the special cunning which the foxes and the dogs that \nhave gone before it have had to win by hard experience. \n\nThese remarks are not an unnecessary digression. Nor \nwill they have been made in vain if they serve to fix in our \nminds the conviction that the law of progressive evolution \nand specialization of nerve-centres, which may be traced \ngenerally from the first appearance of nerve-tissue in the low- \nest animals to the complex structure of the nervous system \nof man, and specially from the rudimentary appearance of \ncerebral convolutions in the lower vertebrata to the numer- \nous and complex convolutions of the human brain, does not \nabruptly cease its action at the vesicular neurine of the hemi- \nspheres, but continues in force within the intimate recesses \nof the mental organization. Moreover, they are specially to \nthe purpose, seeing that they enable us to understand in some \nsort how it is that a perversion or destruction of the moral \nsense is often one of the earliest symptoms of mental derange- \nment : as the latest and most exquisite product of mental or- \nganization, the highest bloom of culture, it is the first to \ntestify to disorder of the mind-centres. ]STot that we can de- \ntect any structural change in such case ; it is far too delicate \nfor that. The wonder would, indeed, be if we could discover \nsuch more than microscopical changes with the instruments \nof research which we yet possess. We might almost as well \nlook to discover the anatomy of a gnat with a telescope. \n\n\n\nINSANE NEUROSIS. 57 \n\nI purposely selected for consideration the defective brain \nof the idiot, because it exhibits an undeniable fault of struct- \nure, which is often plainly traceable to evil ancestral in- \nfluences. When we duly consider this, and reflect that we \nmight, if we chose, arrange a series of hnman brains which \nshould present a regular gradation from the brain of an ape \nto that of a well-developed European, are we not fully justi- \nfied in supposing that like unfavorable ancestral influences \nmay occasion defects in the constitution or composition of \nthe mind-centres which we are yet quite unable to detect ? \nWe know nothing of the occult molecular movements which \nare the physical conditions of our mental operations ; we \nknow little or nothing of the chemical changes which accom- \npany them \xe2\x80\x94 cannot, in fact, detect the difference between \nthe nerve-element of a brain exhausted by exercise and in- \ncapable of further function, and that of a brain reinvigorated \nby sleep and ready for a day of energetic function ; and we \nknow nothing of the intricate connection of nerve-cells in the \nhemispheres. It is plain, then, that there may be, unknown \nto us save as guessed from their efiects, the most important \nmodifications in the molecular activities of nerve-element, \nchanges in its chemical composition, and actual defects in the \nphysical constitution of the nerve-centres. Wherefore, when \nno appreciable defect is found in the brain of one who has \nhad a strong predisposition to insanity, and has ultimately \ndied insane, it behooves us to forbear a hasty conclusion that \nit is a perfectly well-constituted brain. Close to us, yet in- \naccessible to our senses, there lies a domain of Nature \xe2\x80\x94 that \nof the infinitely little \xe2\x80\x94 the operations in which are as much \nbeyond our present ken as are those that take place in the \nremotest regions of space, to which the eye, with all its aids, \ncannot yet reach, and of which the mind cannot conceive. \n\nIt certainly cannot be disputed that, when nothing abnor- \nmal whatever may be discoverable in the brains of persons \nwho have a strong hereditary tendency to insanity, they \noften exhibit characteristic peculiarities in their manner of \n\n\n\n58 BODY AND MIND. \n\nthought, feeling, and conduct, carrying in their physiognomy, \nbodily habit, and mental disposition, the sure marks of their \nevil heritage. These marks are, I believe, the outward and \nvisible signs of an inward and invisible peculiarity of cerebral \norganization. Here, indeed, we broach a most important in- \nquiry, which has only lately attracted attention \xe2\x80\x94 the inquiry, \nnamely, into the physical and mental signs of the degeneracy \nof the human kind. I do not mean to assert that all persons \nwhose parents or blood relatives have suffered from nervous \nor mental disease exhibit mental and bodily peculiarities ; \nsome may be well formed bodily and of superior natural in- \ntelligence, the hereditary disposition in them not having \nassumed the character of deterioration of race ; but it admits \nof no dispute that there is what may be called an insane \ntemperament or neurosis, and that it is marked by peculiari- \nties of mental and bodily conformation. Morel, who was the \nfirst to indicate, and has done much to prosecute, this line of \ninquiry, looks upon an individual so constituted as containing \nin himself the germs of a morbid variety : summing up the \npathological elements which have been manifested by his an- \ncestors, he represents the first term of a series which, if \nnothing happen to check the transmission of degenerate ele- \nments from generation to generation, ends in the extreme \ndegeneracy of idiocy, and in extinction of the family. \n\nWhat are the bodily and mental marks of the insane \ntemperament ? That there are such is most certain ; for \nalthough the varieties of this temperament cannot yet be \ndescribed with any precision, no one who accustoms himself \nto observe closely will fail to be able to say positively, in \nmany instances, whether an insane person, and even a sane \nperson in some instances, comes of an insane family or not. \nAn irregular and unsymmetrical conformation of the head, a \nwant of regularity and harmony of the features, and, as Morel \nholds, malformations of the external ear, are sometimes ob- \nserved. Convulsions are apt to occur in early life, and there \nare tics, grimaces, or other spasmodic movements of muscles \n\n\n\nTHE INSANE TEMPERAMENT. 59 \n\nof face, eyelids, or lips, afterward. Stammering and defects \nof pronunciation are also sometimes signs of the neurosis. \nIn other cases there are peculiarities of the eyes, which, \nthough they may be full and prominent, have a vacillating \nmovement, and a vacantly-abstracted, or half-fearful, half- \nsuspicious, and distrustful look. There may, indeed, be \nsomething in the eye wonderfully suggestive of the look of an \nanimal. The walk and manner are uncertain, and, though \nnot easily described in words, may be distinctly peculiar. \nWith these bodily traits are associated peculiarities of thought, \nfeeling, and conduct. Without being insane, a person who \nhas the insane neurosis strongly marked is thought to be \nstrange, queer, and not like other persons. He is apt to see \nthings under novel aspects, or to think about them under \nnovel relations, which would not have occurred to an ordinary \nmortal. Punning on words is, I am inclined to think, some- \ntimes an indication of the temperament, and so also that \nhigher kind of wit which startles us with the use of an idea \nin a double sense ; of both which aptitudes no better example \ncan be given than that of Charles Lamb. His case, too, may \nshow that the insane temperament is compatible with, and \nindeed it not seldom coexists with, considerable genius. Even \nthose who have it in a more marked form often exhibit re- \nmarkable special talents and aptitudes, such as an extraor- \ndinary talent for music, or for calculation, or a prodigious \nmemory for details, when they may be little better than im- \nbecile in other things. There is, indeed, a marked instinctive \ncharacter in all they think and do ; they seem not to need or \nto be able to reflect upon their own mental states. At one \ntime unduly elated, at another time depressed without ap- \nparent cause, they are prone to do things differently from \nthe rest of the world ; and now and then they do whimsical \nand seemingly quite purposeless acts, especially under con- \nditions of excitement, when the impulses springing out of the \nunconscious morbid nature surprise and overpower them. \nIndeed, the mental balance may be easily upset altogether by \n\n\n\n60 BODY AND MIND. \n\nany great moral shock, or by the strain of continued anxiety. \nA great physical change in the system, too, such as is caused \nby the development of puberty, by the puerperal state, and \nthe climacteric change, is not without danger to their mental \nstability. The effects of alcohol on such persons are in some \nrespects special : it does not make them so much drunk as \nmad for the time being ; and I think it will be found in most, \nif not all, cases of insanity caused by alcohol that there has \nbeen a predisposition to it. \n\nI have sketched generally the features of the insane \ntemperament, but there are really several varieties of it which \nneed to be observed and described. In practice we meet \nwith individuals representing every gradation from the mild- \nest form of the insane temperament down to actual idiocy. \nThese cases ought to be arranged in groups according to their \naffinities, for until this be done we shall not make much real \nprogress toward exact scientific notions respecting the causa- \ntion and pathology of insanity. One group might consist of \nthose egotistic beings, having the insane neurosis, who mani- \nfest a peculiar morbid suspicion of every thing and every- \nbody ; they detect an interested or malicious motive in the \nmost innocent actions of others, always looking out for an \nevil interpretation ; and even events they regard as in a sort \nof conspiracy against them. Incapable of altruistic reflec- \ntion and true sympathies, they live a life of solitude and self- \nbrooding, intrenched within their morbid self-feeling, until the \ndiscord between them and the world is so great that there is \nnothing for it but to count them mad. Another group might \nbe made of those persons of unsound mental temperament \nwho are born with an entire absence of the moral sense, \ndestitute of the possibility even of moral feeling ; they are \nas truly insensible to the moral relations of life, as defi- \ncient in this regard, as a person color-blind is to certain \ncolors, or as one who is without ear for music is to the finest \nharmonies of sound. Although there is usually conjoined \nwith this absence of moral sensibility more or less weakness \n\n\n\n\n\n\nMORAL DEFECTS. 61 \n\nof mind, it does happen in some instances that there is a re- \nmarkably acute intellect of the cunning type. \n\nThe observations of intelligent prison-surgeons are tend- \ning more and more to prove that a considerable proportion \nof criminals are weak-minded or epileptic, or come of families \nin which insanity, epilepsy, or some other neurosis, exists. \nMr. Thompson, surgeon to the General Prison of Scotland, \nhas gone so far recently as to express his conviction that the \nprincipal business of prison-surgeons must always be with \nmental defects or disease ; that the diseases and causes of \ndeath among prisoners are chiefly of the nervous system; \nand, in fine, that the treatment of crime is a branch of psy- \nchology. He holds that there is among criminals a distinct \nand incurable criminal class, marked by peculiar low physical \nand mental characteristics; that crime is hereditary in the \nfamilies of criminals belonging to this class; and that this \nhereditary crime is a disorder of mind, having close relations \nof nature and descent to epilepsy, dipsomania, insanity, and \nother forms of degeneracy. Such criminals are really morbid \nvarieties, and often exhibit marks of physical degeneration \xe2\x80\x94 \nspinal deformities, stammering, imperfect organs of speech, \nclub-foot, cleft-palate, hare-lip, deafness, paralysis, epilepsy, \nand scrofula. Moreau relates a striking case, which is of in- \nterest as indicating the alliance between morbid or degenerate \nvarieties, and which I may quote here. \n\nMrs. D , aged thirty-two. Her grandfather kept an \n\ninn at the time of the great French [Revolution, and during \nthe Eeign of Terror he had profited by the critical situation \nin which many nobles of the department found themselves to \nget them secretly into his house, where he was believed to \nhave robbed and murdered them. His daughter, who was in \nhis secrets, having quarrelled with him, denounced him to \nthe authorities, but he escaped conviction from want of proofs, \nf She subsequently committed suicide. One of her brothers \nhad nearly murdered her with a knife on one occasion, and \nanother brother hanged himself. Her sister was epileptic, \n\n\n\nr. \n\n\n\n62 BODY AND MIND. \n\nimbecile, and paroxysmally violent. Her daughter, the pa- \ntient, after swimming in the head, noises in the ears, flashes \nbefore the eyes, became deranged, fancying that people were \nplotting against her, purchasing arms and barricading herself \nin her room, and was finally put in an asylum. Thus there \nwere, in different members of this family, crime, melancholia, \nepilepsy, suicide, and mania. Need we wonder at it? The \nmoral element is an essential part of a complete and sound \ncharacter ; he who is destitute of it, being unquestionably to \nthat extent a defective being, is therefore on the road to, or \nmarks, race degeneracy ; and it is not a matter of much won- \nder that his children should, when better influences do not \nintervene to check the morbid tendency, exhibit a further de- \ngree of degeneracy, and be actual morbid varieties. I think \nthat no one who has studied closely the causation of insanity \nwill question this mode of production. \n\nI could not, if I would, in the present state of knowledge, \ndescribe accurately all the characteristics of the insane neu- \nrosis, and group according to their affinities the cases testify- \ning to its influence. The chief concern now with its morbid \npeculiarities is to point out, first, that they mark some inher- \nited fault of brain-organization ; and, secondly, that the cause \nof such fault is not insanity alone in the parent, but may be \nother nervous disease, such as hysteria, epilepsy, alcoholism, \nparalysis, and neuralgia of all kinds. Except in the case of \nsuicidal insanity, it is not usual for the parent to transmit to \nthe child the particular form of mental derangement from \nwhich he has suffered : insanity inihe parent may be epilepsy \nin the child, and epilepsy in the parent insanity in the child ; \nand, in families where a strong tendency to insanity exists, \none member may be insane, another epileptic, a third may \nsuffer from severe neuralgia, and a fourth may commit sui- \ncide. The morbid conditions which affect the motor nerve- \ncentres in one generation seem to concentrate themselves \nsometimes upon the sensory or the ideational centres in an- \nother. In truth, nervous disease is a veritable Proteus, dis- \n\n\n\nTRANSITORY FURY. 63 \n\nappearing in one form to reappear in another, and, it may be, \ncapriciously skipping one generation to fasten npon the next. \n\nThe different forms of insanity that occur in young chil- \ndren \xe2\x80\x94 as all forms of it except general paralysis may do \xe2\x80\x94 are \nalmost always traceable to nervous disease in the preceding \ngeneration, a neuropathic condition being really the essential \nelement in their causation. The cases of acute mania in chil- \ndren of a few weeks or a few years old, which have been de- \nscribed, might more properly be classed as examples of idiocy \nwith excitement. There can be no true mania until there is \nsome mind. But we do meet sometimes in older children \nwith a genuine acute mania, occurring usually in connection \nwith chorea or epilepsy, and presenting the symptoms, if I \nmay so express it, of a mental chorea or an epilepsy of the \nmind, but without the spasmodic and convulsive movements \nof these diseases. More or less dulness of intelligence and \napathy of movement, giving the seeming of a degree of imbe- \ncility, is common enough in chorea, and in some cases there \nis violent delirium ; but, besides these cases, there are others \nin which, without choreic disorder of movements, there is a \nchoreic mania : it is an active delirium of ideas which is the \ncounterpart of the usual delirium of movements, and its auto- \nmatic character and its marked incoherence are striking \nenough to an ordinary observer. Hallucinations of the spe- \ncial senses, and loss or perversion of general sensibility, usu- \nally accompany the delirium, the disorder affecting the cen- \ntres of special and general sensation, as well as the mind-cen- \ntres. \n\nBetween this choreic mania and epileptic mania there are \nintermediate conditions partaking more or less of the charac- \nter of one or the other \xe2\x80\x94 hybrid forms of a cataleptic nature. \nThe child will lie for hours or days in a seeming ecstasy or \ntrance, with its limbs rigid or fixed in a strange posture. \nThere may be apparent insensibility to impressions, while at \nother times vague answers are given, or there is a sudden \nbursting out into wild shrieks or incoherent raving. If this \n\n\n\n64 BODY AND MIXD. \n\nbe of a religious kind, the child is apt to be thought by ig- \nnorant persons to be inspired. The attacks are of variable \nduration, and are repeated at varying intervals. On the one \nhand, they pass into attacks of chorea; and, on the other \nhand, into true epileptic seizures, or alternate with them. \n\nIn children, as in adults, a brief attack of violent mania, \na genuine mania transitoria, may precede, or follow, or take \nthe place of an epileptic fit ; in the latter case being a masked \nepilepsy. Children of three or four years of age are some- \ntimes seized with attacks of violent shrieking, desperate \nstubbornness, or furious rage, when they bite, tear, kick, and \ndo all the destruction they can ; these seizures, which are a \nsort of vicarious epilepsy, come on periodically, and may \neither pass in the course of a few months into regular epilepsy, \nor may alternate with it. Older children have perpetrated \ncrimes of a savage and determined nature \xe2\x80\x94 incendiarism and \neven murder \xe2\x80\x94 under the influence of similar attacks of tran- \nsitory fury, followed or not by epileptic convulsions. It is of \nthe utmost importance to realize the deep effect which the \nepileptic neurosis may have on the moral character, and\' to \nkeep\' in mind the possibility of its existence when a savage, \napparently motiveless, and unaccountable crime has been \ncommitted. A single epileptic seizure has been known to \nchange entirely the moral character, rendering a child rude, \nvicious, and perverse, who was hitherto gentle, amiable, and \ntractable. JNo one who has seen it can fail to have been \nstruck with the great and abrupt change in moral character \nwhich takes place in the asylum epileptic immediately before \nthe recurrence of his fits ; iu the intervals between them he \nis often an amiable, obliging, and industrious being, but when \nthey impend he becomes sullen, morose, and most dangerous \nto meddle with. JSTot an attendant but can then foretell that \nhe is going to have his fits, as confidently almost as he can \nforetell that the sun will rise next day. Morel has made the \ninteresting observation, which is certainly well founded, that \nthe epileptic neurosis may exist for a considerable period iu \n\n\n\nINSANE NEUROSIS. 65 \n\nan undeveloped or masked form, showing itself, not by con- \nvulsions, but by periodic attacks of mania, or by manifesta- \ntions of extreme moral perversion, which are apt to be \nthought wilful viciousness. But they are not : no moral in- \nfluence will touch them; they depend upon a morbid physical \ncondition, which can only have a physical cure ; and they \nget their explanation, and indeed justification, afterward, \nwhen actual epilepsy occurs. \n\nThe epileptic neurosis is certainly most closely allied to the \ninsane neurosis ; and when it exists in its masked form, af- \nfecting the mind for some time before convulsions occur, it is \nhardly possible to distinguish it from one form of the insane \nneurosis. The difficulty of doing so is made greater, inas- \nmuch as epilepsy in the parent may engender the insane \nneurosis in the child, and insanity in the parent the epileptic \nneurosis in the child. A character which the insane neurosis \nhas in common with the epileptic neurosis is, that it is apt to \nburst out in a convulsive explosion of violence ; that when \nit develops into actual insanity it displays itself in deeds \nrather than in words \xe2\x80\x94 in an insanity of action rather than \nof thought. It is truly a neurosis spasmodica. Take, for ex- \nample, a case which is one of a class, that of the late Alton \nmurderer, who, taking a walk one fine afternoon, met some \nlittle girls at play, enticed one of them into a neighboring \nhop-garden, there murdered her and cut her body into frag- \nments, which he scattered about, returned quietly home, \nopenly washing his hands in the river on the way, made an \nentry in his diary, " Killed a little girl ; it was fine and hot ;" \nand, when forthwith taken into custody, confessed what he \nhad done, and could give no reason for doing it. At the trial \nit was proved that his father had had an attack of acute \nmania, and that another near relative was in confinement, \nsuffering from homicidal mania. He himself had been noted \nas peculiar; he had been subject to fits of depression, been \nprone to weep without apparent reason, and had exhibited \nsingular caprices of conduct ; and it had once been necessary \n\n\n\n66 BODY AND MIND. \n\nto watch him from fear that he might commit suicide. He \nwas not insane in the legal or the ordinary sense of the \nterm, hut he certainly had the insane neurosis, and it may he \npresumed confidently that he would, had he lived, have he- \ncome insane. \n\nf Those who have practical experience of insanity know \nwell that there is a most distressing form of the disease ; in \nwhich a desperate impulse to commit suicide or homicide \noverpowers and takes prisoner the reason. The terrible im- \npulse is deplored sometimes by him who suffers from it as \ndeeply as by any one who witnesses it ; it causes him unspeak- \nable distress ; he is fully conscious of itsjoature, and struggles \nin vain against it ; his reason is no further affected than in \nhaving lost power to control, or having become the slave of, \nthe morbid and convulsive impulse. It may be that this form \nof derangement does sometimes occur where there is no he- \nreditary predisposition to insanity, but there can be no doubt \nthat in the great majority of cases of the kind there is such a \nneuropathic state. The impulse is truly a convulsive idea, \nspringing from a morbid condition of nerve-element, and it \nis strictly comparable with an epileptic convulsion. How \ngrossly unjust, then, the judicial criterion of responsibility \nwhich dooms an insane person of this class to death if he \nknew what he was doing when he committed a murder ! It \nwere as reasonable to hang a man for not stopping by an act \nof will a convulsion of which he was conscious. An interest- \ning circumstance in connection with this morbid impulse is \nthat its convulsive activity is sometimes preceded by a feeling \nvery like the aura epileptica \xe2\x80\x94 a strange morbid sensation, \nbeginning in some part of the body, and rising gradually to I \nthe brain. The patient may accordingly give warning of the \nimpending attack in some instances, and in one case was \ncalmed by having his thumbs loosely tied together with a \nribbon when the forewarning occurred. Dr. Skae records an \ninstructive example in one of his annual reports. The feeling \nbegan at the toes, rose gradually to the chest, producing a \n\n\n\nAURA EPILEPTICA. 67 \n\nsense of faintness and constriction, and then to the head, pro- \nducing a momentary loss of consciousness. This aura was \naccompanied by an involuntary jerking \xe2\x80\x94 first of the legs, and \nthen of the arms. It was when these attacks came on that \nthe patient felt impelled to commit some act of violence \nagainst others or himself. On one occasion he attempted to \ncommit suicide by throwing himself into the water ; more \noften the impulse was to attack others. He deplored his con- \ndition, of which he spoke with great intelligence, giving all the \ndetails of his past history and feelings. In other cases a feeling^ \nof vertigo, a trembling, and a vague dread of something fear- f \nful being about to happen, resembling the vertigo and mo-1 \nmentary vague despair of one variety of the epileptic aura, * \nprecede the attack. Indeed, whenever a murder has been \ncommitted suddenly, without premeditation, without malice, \nwithout motive, openly, and in a way quite different from \nthe way in which murders are commonly done, we ought to \nlook carefully for evidence of previous epilepsy, and, should \nthere have been no epileptic fits, for evidence of an aura epi- \nleptica and other symptoms allied to epilepsy. \n\nIt is worth while observing that in other forms of insanity, \nwhen we look closely into the symptoms, there are not un- \nfrequently complaints of strange, painful, and distressing \nsensations in some part of the body, which appear to have a \nrelation to the mental derangement not unlike that which \nthe epileptic aura has to the epileptic fit. Common enough \nis a distressing sensation about the epigastrium : it is not a \ndefinite pain, is not comparable strictly to a burning, or \nweight, or to any known sensation, but is an indescribable \nfeeling of distress to which the mental troubles are referred. \nIt sometimes rises to a pitch of anguish, when it abolishes the \npower to think, destroys the feeling of identity, and causes \nsuch unspeakable suffering and despair that suicide is at- \ntempted or accomplished. In other cases the distressing and \nindescribable sensation is in the crown of the head or down \nthe spine, and sometimes it arises from the pelvic organs. In \n\n\n\n68 BODY AND MIND. \n\nall cases the patients connect their mental trouble with it, \nregarding it as the cause of the painful confusion of thought, \nthe utter inability of exertion, the distressing ideas, and the \nparoxysm of despair. Perhaps they exaggerate its impor- \ntance ; but there can be little doubt that writers on mental \ndisorders, too exclusively occupied with the prominent men- \ntal features, have not hitherto given sufficient attention to \nthese anomalous sensations. We have been apt to class them \nas hypochondriacal, and to pass them over as of no special \nsignificance ; but I cannot help thinking that, properly studied, \nthey may sometimes teach us more of the real nature of the \nparticular form of insanity \xe2\x80\x94 of its probable course, termina- \ntion, and its most suitable treatment \xe2\x80\x94 than many much more \nobtrusive symptoms. \n\nIn bringing this lecture to an end, I may fitly point out \nhow entirely thus far the observation of the phenomena of de- \nfective and disordered mind proves their essential dependence \non defective and disordered brain, and how closely they are \nrelated to some other disordered nervous functions. The insane \nneurosis which the child inherits in consequence of its par- \nent\'s insanity is as surely a defect of physical nature as is \nthe epileptic neurosis to which it is so closely allied. It is an \nindisputable though extreme fact that certain human beings \nare born with such a native deficiency of mind that all the \ntraining and education in the world will not raise them to \nthe height of brutes ; and I believe it to be not less true that" \nin consequence of evil ancestral influences, individuals are \nborn with such a flaw or warp of Nature that all the care in \nthe world will not prevent them from being vicious or crimi- \nnal, or becoming insane. Education, it is true, may do \nmuch, and the circumstances of life may do much ; but we" \n| cannot forget that the foundations on which the acquisitions \n\' of education must rest are not acquired, but inheritedXTfo" \none can escape the tyranny of his organization ; no one can \nelude the destiny that is innate in him, and which uncon- \nsoiously and irresistibly shapes his ends, even when he be- \n\n\n\nTYRANNY OF ORGANIZATION. 69 \n\nlieves that lie is determining them with consummate fore- \nsight and skill. A well-grounded and comprehensive theory \nof mind must recognize and embrace these facts ; they meet \nus every moment of our lives, and cannot be ignored if we \nare in earnest in our attempts to construct a mental science ; \nand it is because metaphysical mental philosophy has taken \nno notice whatever of them, because it is bound by the prin- \nciple of its existence as a philosophy to ignore them, that, \nnotwithstanding the labor bestowed on it, it has borne no \nfruits \xe2\x80\x94 that, as Bacon said of it, " not only what was asserted \nonce is asserted still, but what were questions once are ques- \ntions still, and, instead of being resolved by discussion, are \nonly fixed and fed.\' 7 \n\n\n\nLECTURE III. \n\nGentlemen : In my last lecture I showed how large a \npart in the production of insanity is played by the hereditary \nneurosis, and pointed out the necessity of scrutinizing more \nclosely than has yet been done the features of the different \nforms of mental derangement that own its baneful influence. \nPast all question it is the most important element in the \ncausation of insanity. It cannot be in the normal order of \nevents that a healthy organism should be unable to bear or- \ndinary mental trials, much less a natural physiological func- \ntion such as the evolution of puberty, the puerperal state, or \nthe climacteric change. When, therefore, the strain of grief \nor one of these physiological conditions becomes the occa- \nsion of an outbreak of insanity, we must look for the root of \nthe ill in some natural infirmity or instability of nerve-ele- \nment. Not until we apply ourselves earnestly to an exact \nobservation and discrimination of all the mental and bodily \nconditions which cooperate in the causation, and are mani- \nfested in the symptoms, of the manifold varieties of insanity, \nshall we render more precise and satisfactory our knowledge \nof its causes, its classification, and its treatment. How un- \nscientific it appears when we reflect, to enumerate, as is com- \nmonly done, sex and age among its predisposing causes ! No \none goes mad because he or she happens to be a man or a \nwoman, but because to each sex, and at certain ages, there \noccur special physiological changes, which are apt to run into \npathological effects in persons predisposed to nervous dis- \n\n\n\nHYSTERICAL INSANITY. 71 \n\norder. How often it happens that a moral cause of insanity \nis sought and falsely found in a state of mind such as grief \nor jealousy, which is really an early symptom of the disease! \nAgain, how vague and unsatisfactory the accepted psycho- \nlogical classification of insanity, under which forms of dis- \nease distinct enough to claim separate descriptions are in- \ncluded in the same class ! It is obvious that we learn very \nlittle of value from an account of the treatment of mania \ngenerally when there are included under the class diseases so \ndifferent as puerperal mania, the mania of general paralysis, \nsyphilitic, epileptic, and hysterical mania, each presenting \nfeatures and requiring treatment in some degree special. \nThe hope and the way of advance in our knowledge of men- \ntal disorders lie in the exact observation of the varieties of \nthe insane diathesis, and of the effects of bodily functions \nand disorders upon these ; in noting carefully the bodily as \nwell as mental symptoms that characterize the several forms \nof derangement of mind ; and in tracing the relations of \nmental to other disorders of the nervous system. We must \naim to distinguish well if we would teach well \xe2\x80\x94 to separate \nthe cases that exhibit special features and relations, and to \narrange them in groups or classes according to their affinities, \njust as we do habitually with general paralysis, and as I did \nin my last lecture with epileptic mania. \n\nFollowing this plan, we might in like manner make of \nhysterical insanity a special variety. An attack of acute \nmaniacal excitement, with great restlessness, rapid and dis- \nconnected but not entirely incoherent conversation, some- \ntimes tending to the erotic or obscene, evidently without \nabolition of consciousness ; laughing, singing, or rhyming, \nand perverseness of conduct, which is still more or less cohe- \nrent and seemingly wilful \xe2\x80\x94 may occur in connection with, or \ninstead of, the usual hysterical convulsions. Or the ordinary \nhysterical symptoms may pass by degrees into chronic insanity. \nLoss of power of will is a characteristic symptom of hysteria\\ \nin all its Protean forms, and with the perverted sensations \n\n\n\nY2 BODY AND MIND. \n\nand disordered movements there is always some degree of \nmoral perversion. This increases until it swallows up the \nother symptoms : the patient loses more and more of her \nenergy and self-control, becoming capriciously fanciful about \nher health, imagining or feigning strange diseases, and keep- \ning up the delusion or the imposture with a pertinacity that \nmight seem incredible, getting more and more impatient of \nthe advice and interference of others, and indifferent to the \ninterests and duties of her position. Outbursts of temper \nbecome almost outbreaks of mania, particularly at the men- \nstrual periods. An erotic tinge may be observable in her \nmanner of behavior; and occasionally there are quasi- \necstatic or cataleptic states. It is an easily-curable form of \nderangement if the patient be removed in time from the anx- \nious but hurtful sympathies and attentions of her family, and \nplaced under good moral control ; but, if it be allowed to go \non unchecked, it will end in dementia, and it is especially apt \nto do so when there is a marked hereditary predisposition. \n\nIn some instances we observe a curious connection be- \ntween insanity and neuralgia, not unlike that which, existing \nbetween epilepsy and a special form of neuralgia, induced \nTrousseau to describe the latter as epileptiform. I have un- \nder observation now a lady who suffered for some time from \nan intense neuralgia of the left half of the face ; after the \nremoval of a tooth suspected to be at the root of the mis- \nchief the pain ceased, but an attack of melancholia immedi- \nately followed. Griesinger mentions a similar case of a gen- \ntleman under his care, in whom a double occipital neuralgia \nwas followed by a melancholic state of mind. In his " Com- \nmentaries on Insanity," Dr. Burrows tells of a very eloquent \ndivine who was always maniacal when free from pains in the \nspine, and sane when the pains returned to that site. And \nthe late Sir B. Brodie mentions two cases of a similar kind : \nin one of them a neuralgia of the vertebral column alter- \nnated with true insanity. These cases appear to be instances \nof the transference of morbid action from one nerve-centre to \n\n\n\nTRANSFORMATION OF NEUROSES. 73 \n\nanother, such as Dr. Darwin formerly noticed and commented \n\non. "Mrs. C ," he says, "was seized every day, about \n\nthe same hour, with violent pain in the right side of her bow- \nels, about the situation of the lower edge of the liver, with- \nout fever, which increased for an hour or two, till it became \nquite intolerable. After violent screaming she fell into con- \nvulsions, which terminated sometimes in fainting, with or \nwithout stertor, as in common epilepsy ; at other times a \ntemporary insanity supervened, which continued about half \nan hour, and the fit ceased." It seems not unreasonable to \nsuppose that the morbid action in the sensory centres, which \nthe violent neuralgia implied, was at one time transferred to \nthe motor centres, giving rise to convulsive movements, and \nat another time to the mind-centres, giving rise to convulsive \nideas. There is a form of neuralgia which is the analogue of \na convulsion, and there is a mania which is the counterpart, \nin the highest nerve-centres, of neuralgia and convulsions in \ntheir respective centres. Perhaps if we had the power in \nsome cases of acute insanity to induce artificially a violent \nneuralgia, or general convulsions \xe2\x80\x94 to transfer the morbid ac- \ntion from the mind-centres \xe2\x80\x94 we might, for the time being at \nany rate, cure the insanity. \n\nI pass on now to exhibit the effects of organic sympathies \nin the causation of mental disorders, or rather the specific \neffects of particular organs upon the features of different \nforms of insanity. In my first lecture I pointed out that \nthere is the closest physiological consent of functions be- \ntween the different organs ; that the brain, as the organ of \nmind, joins in this consent ; and that our ideas and feelings \nare obtained by the concurrence of impressions from the \ninternal organs of the body and the external organs of the \nsenses. The consequence is, that derangement of an internal \norgan, acting upon the brain, may engender, by pathological \nsympathy, morbid feelings and their related ideas. The \nmental effects may be general or specific : a general emotionar \ndepression through which all ideas loom gloomy, of which \n4 \n\n\n\n74 BODY AND MIND. \n\nevery one\'s experience testifies; and a special morbid feeling \nwith its particular sympathetic ideas, of which the phenom- \nena of dreaming and insanity yield illustrations. \n\nThe slight shades of this kind of morbid influence we can- \nnot venture to trace ; but it is easy to recognize the most \nmarked effects. Take, for example, the irritation of ovaries \nor uterus, which is sometimes the direct occasion of nympho- \nmania \xe2\x80\x94 a disease by which the most chaste and modest \nwoman is transformed into a raging fury of lust. Some ob- \nservers have, without sufficient reason I think, made of \nnympliomania a special variety, grouping under the term \ncases in which it was a prominent- symptom. But it certainly \noccurs in forms of mania that are quite distinct \xe2\x80\x94 in puerperal \nmania, for example, in epileptic mania, and in the mania \nsometimes met with in old women; and the cases in which \nit does occur have not such characteristic features as warrant \nthe formation of a definite group. "We have, indeed, to note \nand bear in mind how often sexual ideas and feelings arise \nand display themselves in all sorts of insanity ; how they \nconnect themselves with ideas which in a normal mental \nstate have no known relation to them ; so that it seems as \ninexplicable that a virtuous person should ever have learned, \nas it is distressing that she should manifest, so much obscenity \nof thought and feeling. Perhaps it is that such ideas are ex- \ncited sympathetically in a morbidly active brain by unrelated \nideas, just as, in other nervous disorders, sympathetic morbid \nsensations and movements occur in parts distant from the \nseat of the primary irritation. Considering, too, what an \nimportant agent in the evolution of mind the sexual feeling \nis, how much of thought, feeling, and energy it remotely in- \nspires, there is less cause for wonder at the naked interven- \ntion of its simple impulses in the phenomena of mania, when \ncoordination of function is abolished in the supreme centres, \nand the mind resolved, as it were, into its primitive auimal \nelements. This should teach us to take care not to attribute \ntoo hastily the sexual feelings to a morbid irritation of the \n\n\n\nINSANITY OF PUBESCENCE. 75 \n\nsexual organs. It is plain that they may have a purely cen- \ntral origin, just as the excitation of them in health may pro- \nceed from the mind. Here, in fact, as in other cases, we \nmust bear in mind the reciprocal influence of mind on organ, \nand of organ on mind. \n\nThe great mental revolution which occurs at puberty may \ngo beyond its physiological limits, in some instances, and \nbecome pathological. The vague feelings, blind longings, and \nobscure impulses, which then arise in the mind, attest the \nawakening of an impulse which knows not at first its aim or \nthe means of its gratification ; a kind of vague and yearning \nmelancholy is engendered, which leads to an abandonment to \npoetry of a gloomy Byronic kind, or to indulgence in inde- \nfinite religious feelings and aspirations. There is a want of \nsome object to fill the void in the feelings, to satisfy the \nundefined yearning \xe2\x80\x94 a need of something to adore; con- \nsequently, where there is no visible object of worship the \ninvisible is adored. The time of this mental revolution is, at \nbest, a trying period for youth ; and, where there is an in- \nherited infirmity of nervous organization, the natural dis- \nturbance of the mental balance may easily pass into actual \ndestruction of it. \n\nThe form of derangement connected with this period of \nlife I believe to be either a fanciful and quasi-hysterical \nmelancholia, which is not very serious when it is properly \ntreated; or an acute mania, which is apt to be recurrent, and \nis much more serious. The former occurs especially in girls, \nif it be not peculiar to them ; there are periods of depression \nand paroxysms of apparently causeless weeping, alternating \nwith times of undue excitability, more especially at the \nmenstrual periods ; a disinclination is evinced to work, to \nrational amusement, to exertion of any kind ; the behavior is \ncapricious, and soon becomes perverse and wilful ; the natural \naffections seem to be blunted or abolished, the patient taking \npleasure in distressing those whose feelings she would most \nconsider when in health ; and, although there are no fixed \n\n\n\n76 BODY AND MIND. \n\ndelusions, there are unfounded suspicions or fears and chan- \nging morbid fancies. The anxious sympathies of those most \ndear are apt to foster the morbid self-feeling which craves \nthem, and thus to aggravate the disease : what such patients \nneed to learn is, not the indulgence but a forgetfulness of \ntheir feelings, not the observation but the renunciation of \nself, not introspection but useful action. In some of these \ncases, where the disease has become chronic, delusions of \nsexual origin occur, and the patient whose virginity is intact \nimagines that she is pregnant or has had a baby. \n\nThe morbid self-feeling that has its root in the sexual sys- \ntem is not unapt to take on a religious guise. We observe \nexamples of this in certain members of those latter-day reli- \ngious sects which profess to commingle religion and love, and \nwhich especially abound in America. No physiologist can \nwell doubt that the holy kiss of love in such cases owes all \nits warmth to the sexual feeling which consciously or uncon- \nsciously inspires it, or that the mystical union of the sexes \nlies very close to a union that is nowise mystical, when it does \nnot lead to madness. A similar intimate connection between \nfanatical religious exaltation and sexual excitement is exem- \nplified by the lives of such religious enthusiasts as St.- Theresa \nand St. Catherine de Sienne, whose nightly trances and \nvisions, in which they believed themselves received as verita- \nble spouses into the bosom of Christ and transported into an \nunspeakable ecstasy by the touch of His sacred lips, attested, \nthough they knew it not, the influence of excited sexual or- \ngans on the mind. More extreme examples of a like patho- \nlogical action are afforded by those insane women who be- \nlieve themselves to be visited by lovers or ravished by perse- \ncutors during the night. Sexual hallucinations, betraying \nan ovarian or uterine excitement, might almost be described \nas the characteristic feature of the insanity of old maids ; the \nfalse visions of unreal indulgence being engendered probably \nin the same way as visions of banquets occur in the dreams \nof a starving person, or. as visions of cooling streams to one \n\n\n\nPERIODIC INSANITY. 77 \n\nwho is perishing of thirst. It seems to he the fact that, al- l \nthough women hear sexual excesses hetter than men, they , \nsuffer more than men do from the entire deprivation of sexual] \nintercourse. \n\nThe development of puberty may lead indirectly to insanity \nhy becoming the occasion of a vicious habit of self-abuse in \nmen ; and it is not always easy to say in such cases how much \nof the evil is due to pubescence and how much to self-abuse. \nBut the form of mental derangement directly traceable to \nself-abuse has certainly characteristic features. There are \nno acute symptoms, the onset of the disease being most grad- \nual. The patient becomes offensively egotistic and impracti-j \ncable; he is full of self-feeling and self-conceit; insensible \nto the claims of others upon him, and of his duties to them ; \ninterested only in hypochondriacal^ watching his morbid \nsensations, and attending to his morbid feelings. His mental \nenergy is sapped; and though he has extravagant pretensions, \nand often speaks of great projects engendered by his con- \nceit, he never works systematically for any aim, but exhibits \nan incredible vacillation of conduct, and spends his days in \nindolent and suspicious self-brooding. His relatives he thinks \nhostile to him, because they do not take the interest in his \nsufferings which he craves, nor yield sufficiently to his pre- \ntensions, but perhaps urge him to some kind of work ; he is \nutterably incapable of conceiving that he has duties to them. J \nAs matters get worse, the general suspicion of the hostility \nof people takes more definite form, and delusions spring up \nthat persons speak offensively of him, or watch him in the \nstreet, or comment on what passes in his mind, or play tricks \nupon him by electricity or mesmerism, or in some other mys- \nterious way. His delusions are the objective explanation, \nby wrong imagination, of the perverted feelings. Messages \nmay be received from Heaven by peculiar telegraphic signals ; \nand there are occasionally quasi-cataleptic trances. It is \nstrange what exalted feelings and high moral and religious \naims these patients will often declare they have, who, incapa- \n\n\n\n78 BODY AND MIND. \n\nble of reforming themselves, are ready to reform the world. \nA later and worse stage is one of moody or vacant self-ab- \nsorption, and of extreme loss of mental power. They are \nsilent, or, if they converse, they discover delusions of a sus- \npicious or obscene character, the perverted sexual passion \nstill giving the color to their thoughts. They die miserable \nwrecks at the last. This is a form of insanity which certainly \nhas its special exciting cause and its characteristic features ; \nnevertheless, I think that self-abuse seldom, if ever, produces \nit without the cooperation of the insane neurosis. \n\nThe monthly activity of the ovaries which marks the ad- \nvent of puberty in women has a notable effect upon the mind \nand body ; wherefore it may become an important cause of \nmental and physical derangement. Most women at that \ntime are susceptible, irritable, and capricious, any cause of \nvexation affecting them more seriously than usual ; and \nsome who have the insane neurosis exhibit a disturbance of \nmind which amounts almost to disease. A sudden suppres- \nsion of the menses has produced a direct explosion of insan- \nity ; or, occurring some time before an outbreak, it may be \nan important link in its causation. It is a matter also of com- \nmon experience in asylums, that exacerbations of insanity \noften take place at the menstrual periods ; but whether there \nis a particular variety of mental derangement connected with \ndisordered menstruation, and, if so, what are its special fea- \ntures, we are not yet in a position to say positively. There is \ncertainly a recurrent mania, which seems sometimes to have, \nin regard to its origin and the times of its attacks, a relation \nto the menstrual function, suppression or irregularity of \nwhich often accompanies it ; and it is an obvious presump- \ntion that the mania may be a sympathetic morbid effect of \nthe ovarian and uterine excitement, and may represent an \nexaggeration of the mental irritability which is natural to \nwomen at that period. The patient becomes elated, hila- \nrious, talkative, passing soon from that condition into a state \nof acute and noisy mania, which may last for two or three \n\n\n\nRECURRENT INSANITY. 79 \n\nweeks or longer,- and then sinking into a brief stage of more \nor less depression or confusion of mind, from which, she \nawakens to calmness and clearness of mind. In vain we \nflatter ourselves with the hope of a complete recovery ; after \nan interval of perfect lucidity, of varying duration in differ- \nent cases, the attack recurs, goes through the same stages, \nand ends in the same way, only to be followed by other at- \ntacks, until at last, the mind being permanently weakened, \nthere are no longer intervals of entire lucidity. Could we \nstop the attacks, the patient might still regain by degrees \nmental power ; but we cannot. All the resources of our art \nfail to touch them, and I know no other form of insanity \nwhich, having so much the air of being curable, thus far de- \nfies all efforts to stay its course. We should be apt to con- \nclude that it was connected with the menstrual function, \nwere it not that periodicity is more or less the law of all ner- \nvous diseases, that its attacks often recur at uncertain inter- \nvals, and, more decisive still, that it is not confined to women, \nbut occurs perhaps as often in men. Whether connected or \nnot, however, in any way with the generative functions, it \ncertainly presents features of relationship to epilepsy, and \noccurs where the insane neurosis exists; and, if I were to \ndescribe it in a few words, I should designate it an epilepsy \nof the mind. Its recurrence more or less regularly ; the \nuniformity of the prodromata and of the symptoms of the \nattack, each being almost an exact image of the other ; its \ncomparatively brief duration ; the mental torpor or confu- \nsion which follows it, and the ignorance or denial sometimes, \non the part of the patient, of his having had the attack ; the \ntemporary recovery ; and the undoubted fact that it often \noccurs where there is evidence of an insane neurosis pro- \nduced by epilepsy, or insanity, or both, in the family; these \nare facts which support the opinion of its kinship to epilepsy. \nI have under my care an unmarried lady who for many years \nhas been subject to these recurrent attacks of mania, and \nwhose intelligence has now been destroyed by them ; ulti- \n\n\n\n80 BODY AND MIND. \n\nmately true epileptic fits supervened, but they only occur, at \nlong intervals, usually not oftener than twice a year, while \nthe maniacal attacks recur regularly every three or four \nweeks. It is of some interest, in regard to the question of \nits nature, that the age of its most frequent outbreak is, as it \nis with epilepsy, the years that cover the development of \npuberty. Irregularity or suppression of menstruation may \nor may not be present, so that we are not warranted in at- \ntributing the disease to amenorrhoea or dysmenorrhea ; we are \nthe less warranted in doing so, as any form of insanity, how- \never caused, may occasion a suppression of the menses. \n\nThe natural cessation of menstruation at the change of \nlife is accompanied by a revolution in the economy which is \noften trying to the mental stability of those who have a pre- \ndisposition to insanity. The age of pleasing is past, but not \nalways the desire, which, indeed, sometimes grows then more \nexacting; there are all sorts of anomalous sensations of bod- \nily distress, attesting the disturbance of circulation and of \nnerve functions; and it is now that an insane jealousy and a \npropensity to stimulants are apt to appear, especially where \nthere have been no children. When positive insanity breaks \nout, it usually has the form of profound melancholia, with \nvague delusions of an extreme character, as that the world is \nin flames, that it is turned upside down, that every thing is \nchanged, or that some very dreadful but undefined calamity \nhas happened or is about to happen. The countenance has \nthe expression of a vague terror and apprehension. In some \ncases short and transient paroxysms of excitement break the \nmelancholy gloom. These usually occur at the menstrual \nperiods, and may continue to do so for some time after the \nfunction has ceased. It is not an unfavorable form of in- \nsanity as regards probability of recovery under suitable treat- \nment. \n\nContinuing the consideration of the influence of the gen- \nerative organs in the production of insanity, I come now to \npuerperal insanity. Under this name are sometimes con- \n\n\n\nPUERPERAL INSANITY. 81 \n\nfounded three distinct varieties of disease \xe2\x80\x94 that which occurs \nduring pregnancy, that which follows parturition and is \nproperly puerperal, and that which comes on months after- \nward during lactation.* The insanity of pregnancy is, as a \nrule, of a marked melancholic type, with suicidal tendency ; \na degree of mental weakness or apparent dementia being \nsometimes conjoined with it. Other cases, however, exhibit \nmuch moral perversion, perhaps an uncontrollable craving \nfor stimulants, which we may regard as an exaggerated display \nof the fanciful cravings from which women suffer in the \nearlier months of pregnancy. We can hardly fail, indeed, to \nrecognize a connection between the features of this form of \ninsanity and the strange longings, the capriciousness, and the \nmorbid fears, of the pregnant woman. The patient may be \ntreated successfully by removal from home ; but, if the dis- \nease be allowed to go on, there is no good ground to expect \nthat parturition will have a beneficial effect upon it ; on the \ncontrary, the probability is, that it will run into a severe puer- \nperal insanity, and from that into dementia. \n\nPuerperal insanity proper comes on within one month of \nparturition ; and, like the insanity of pregnancy, occurs most \noften in primiparse. The statistics of the Edinburgh Asylum \nshow that in all the cases occurring before the sixteenth day \nafter labor, as most cases do, the symptoms were those of \nacute mania ; but in all the cases which occurred after the \nsixteenth day they were those of melancholia. In both forms, \nbut especially in the latter, there is sometimes a mixture of \nchildishness and apparent dementia. The mania is more \nlikely than the melancholia to get well. It is of an acute and \nextremely incoherent character, a delirious rather than a sys- \ntematized mania, marked by noisy restlessness, sleeplessness, \ntearing of clothes, hallucinations, and in some cases by great \nsalacity, which is probably the direct mental effect of the irri- \ntation of the generative organs. Suicide may be attempted \n\n* " The Insanity of Pregnancy, Puerperal Insanity, and Insanity oi \nLactation." By J. Batty Tuke, M. D. \n\n\n\n82 BODY AND MIND. \n\nin an excited, purposeless way. The bodily symptoms, con- \ntradicting the violence of the mental excitement, indicate \nfeebleness ; the features are pinched ; the skin is pale, cold, \nand clammy ; and the pulse is quick, small, and irritable. \n"We may safely say that recovery takes place in three out of \nfour cases of puerperal mania, usually in a few weeks; the \npatient, after the acute symptoms have subsided, sinking into \na temporary state of confusion and feebleness of mind, and \nthen waking up as from a dream. I may add the expression \nof a conviction that no good, hut rather harm, is done by \nattempting to stifle this or any other form of acute insanity \nby the administration of large doses of opium. \n\nThe insanity of lactation .does not come under the scheme \nof this lecture ; for it is an asthenic insanity, produced by \nbodily exhaustion and the depression of mental worries. The \ntime of its occurrence seems to show that the longer the \nchild is suckled the greater is the liability to it ; and in the \nmajority of cases it has the form of melancholia, often with \ndetermined suicidal tendency. \n\nSo frequently is hereditary predisposition more or less \ndistinctly traceable in these three forms of insanity occurring \nin connection with child-hearing, that we are warranted in \ndeclaring it quite exceptional for any one of them to be met \nwith where it is entirely absent. \n\nI have now enumerated all the forms of insanity which, \n"being specially connected with the generative organs, pre- \nsent characteristic features. It is certain, however, that dis- \nease of them may act as a powerful cooperating cause in the \nproduction of insanity, without giving rise, so far as we \nknow, to a special group of symptoms. Thus, for example, \nmelancholia, distinguishable by no feature from melancholia \notherwise caused, may be the effect of disease of the uterus. \nSchroder van der Kolk mentions the case of a woman pro- \nfoundly melancholic who suffered from prolapsus uteri, and \nin whom the melancholia disappeared when the uterus was \nreturned to its proper place. Flemming relates two similar \n\n\n\nSYMPATHETIC INSANITY. 83 \n\ncases in which melancholia was cured by the use of a pessary, \nthe depression returning in one of them whenever the pessary \nwas removed ; and I have met with one case in which pro- \nfound melancholia of two years\' standing disappeared after \nthe removal of a prolapsus uteri. Other diseases and dis- \nplacements of the uterus may act in a similar way. \n\nLet me now say a few words concerning the abdominal \norgans. No one will call in question that the states of their \nfunctions do exert a positive influence on our states of mind ; \nbut it is unfortunately too true that we cannot yet refer any \nspecial mental symptoms to the influence of the abdominal \norgans. I have met with one case of severe melancholia, of \nlong standing, which was distinctly cured by the expulsion \nof a tape-worm ; and it appears to be tolerably certain that \nhypochondriacal insanity is in some instances connected \nwith, if not caused by, a perverted sensation proceeding from \nan internal organ, most often abdominal. In health we are \nnot conscious of the impressions which these organs make \nupon the brain, albeit they assuredly send their unperceived \ncontributions to the stream of energies of which conscious- \nness is the sum and the outcome ; but, when a disordered or- \ngan sends a morbid impression to the brain, it no longer does \nits work there in silence and self-suppression, but asserts \nitself in an unwonted affection of consciousness. The hypo- \nchondriac cannot withdraw his attention from the morbid \nsensation to which it is irresistibly attracted, and which it \naggravates; his interest in all things else is gradually \nquenched, and his ability to think and act freely in the rela- \ntions of life sapped. The step from this state to positive in- \nsanity is not a great one : the strange and distressing sensation, \nbeing so anomalous, so unlike any thing of which the patient \nhas had experience, affecting him so powerfully and so unac- \ncountably, gets at last an interpretation that seems suited to \nits extraordinary character ; and he then imagines that some \nanimal or man or devil has got inside him and is tormenting \nhim. He has now a hallucination of the organic sense which \n\n\n\n84 BODY AND MIND. \n\ndominates his thoughts, and he is truly insane. Not long since \nI saw a patient who believed that he had a man in his belly ; \nwhen his bowels were constipated, the delusion became active, \nhe made desperate efforts by vomiting to get rid of his torment- \nor, and was then surly, morose, and dangerous; but, when \nhis bowels had been relieved, the delusion subsided into the \nbackground, and he was good-tempered and industrious. If \na patient, instead of attributing his sufferings to an absurdly \nimpossible cause, ascribes them to a serious internal disease \nwhich he certainly has not got, there will be a difficulty in \ndeciding whether he is insane or not, should he do injury to \nhimself or others, as hypochondriacal melancholies sometimes \ndo. It is a probable surmise that in those cases of insanity in \nwhich there are such delusions as that food will not enter \nthe stomach, that there is no digestion, that the intestines \nare sealed up, there is a cause in a morbid irritation ascend- \ning from the viscera to the brain. I am furthermore dis- \nposed to think that a form of fearful melancholia in which \nthe patient evinces an extreme morbid sensitiveness to his \nevery thought, feeling, and act, in which he is, as it were, \nhypochondriacally distressed about whatever he thinks, feels, \nand does, imagining it, however trivial and innocent, to be a \ngreat sin, which has cost him his happiness in time and eter- \nnity, has its foundation in certain morbid states of abdominal \nsensation. In cases of this sort, the delusion is not the cause \nof the feeling of despair, but is, as it were, a condensation \nfrom it, and an attempted interpretation of it. The same \nthing is observed in dreams : the images and events of a dis- \ntressing dream are not the causes of the feelings, but are \ncaused by them; they undergo strange and sudden meta- \nmorphoses without causing much or any surprise, and they \ndisappear together with the terror the moment we awake, \nwhich would not be the case if they really caused the terror. \n"We perceive, indeed, in this generation of the image out of \nthe feeling, the demonstration of the true nature of ghosts \nand apparitions ; the nervous system being in an excited \n\n\n\nPANPHOBIA. 85 \n\nstate of expectant fear, and the images being the effects and \nexponents of the feeling: they give the vague terror form. \nAccordingly, as Coleridge has remarked, those who see a \nghost under such circumstances do not suffer much in conse- \nquence, though in telling the story they will perhaps say that \ntheir hair stood on end, and that they were in an agony of terror ; \nwhereas those who have been really frightened by a figure \ndressed up as a ghost have often suffered seriously from the \nshock, having fainted, or had a fit, or gone mad. In like man- \nner, if an insane person actually saw the dreadful things which \nhe imagines that he sees sometimes, and really thought the ter- \nrible thoughts which he imagines he thinks, he would suffer in \nhealth more than he does, if he did not actually die of them. \nI come now to the thoracic organs. The heart and \nthe lungs are closely connected in their functions, so that \nthey mutually affect one another. Some diseases of the \nlungs greatly oppress and trouble the heart ; yet there is \nreason to believe that they have their special effects upon \nthe mind. How, indeed, can we think otherwise when we \ncontrast the sanguine confidence of the consumptive patient \nwith the anxious fear and apprehension exhibited in some \ndiseases of the heart ? It used to be said that disease of the \nheart was more frequent among the insane than among the \nsane ; but the latest observations do not afford any support \nto the opinion, nor do they furnish valid grounds to connect \na particular variety of insanity with heart-disease in those \ncases in which it does exist. All that we are thus far war- \nranted in affirming is, that if there be a characteristic mental \neffect of such disease, it is a great fear, mounting up at times \nto despairing anguish ; and perhaps I may venture to add \nthat, if there be a variety of mental disorder specifically con- \nnected with heart-disease, it is that form of melancholia in \nwhich the patient is overwhelmed with a vague and vast \napprehension, where there is not so much a definite delusion \nas a dreadfuLfear of every thing actual and possible, and \nwhich is sometimes described as panphobia. \n\n\n\n86 BODY AND MIND. \n\nThere has long been an opinion, which seems to be well \nfounded, that tubercle of the lungs is more common among \nthe insane than among the sane. Tor although the propor- \ntion of deaths in asylums attributed to phthisis is one-fourth, \nwhich is the same proportion as that for the sane population \nabove fourteen years of age, Dr. Olouston has shown, by \ncareful scrutiny of the records of 282 post-mortem examina- \ntions made in the Edinburgh Asylum, that phthisis was the \nassigned cause of death in only a little more than half of the \ncases in which there was tubercle in the body. The symp- \ntoms of phthisis are so much masked in the insane, there \nbeing usually no cough and no expectoration, that its diag- \nnosis is difficult, and it is not always detected during life. \nThe relation between it and insanity has been noticed by \nseveral writers : Schroder van der Kolk was distinctly of \nopinion that an hereditary predisposition to phthisis might \npredispose to, or develop into, insanity, and, on the other \nhand, that insanity predisposed to phthisis ; and Dr. Clous- \nton found that hereditary prediposition to insanity existed in \nseven per cent, more of the insane who were tubercular than \nof the insane generally. When family degeneration is far \ngone, the two diseases appear to occur frequently, and the \nlast member is likely to die insane or phthisical, or both ; \nwhether, therefore, they mutually predispose to one another \nor not, they are often concomitant effects in the course of \ndegeneration. However, in weighing the specific value of \nthese observations, we must not forget that, independently \nof any special relation, the enfeebled nutrition of tuberculosis \nwill tend to stimulate into activity the latent predisposition \nto insanity ; and that, in like manner, insanity, especially in \nits melancholic forms, will favor the actual development of a \npredisposition to phthisis. \n\nIn the cases in which the development of phthisis and \ninsanity has been nearly contemporaneous, which are about \none-fourth of the cases in which they coexist, the mental \nsymptoms are of so peculiar and uniform a character as to \n\n\n\nPHTHISICAL MANIA. 87 \n\nhave led to the inclusion of the cases in a natural group \nunder the designation of phthisical mania. They have no \npositively distinctive symptom, it is true ; they cannot be \nseparated from other cases by a well-defined line of demar- \ncation. Yet they do exhibit, Dr. Clouston believes, certain \ncommon and uniform characters which justify their descrip- \ntion as a separate variety. They often begin in an insidious \nway by irritability, waywardness, and capriciousness of con- \nduct, and apparent weakening of intellect ; yet the patient \nconverses rationally when he chooses to talk, and shows that \nhe still has his intellect, albeit there is a great disinclination \nto exert it. To sign a certificate of his insanity would be no \neasy matter. Or they begin with an acutely maniacal or \nmelancholic stage, which is, however, of very short duration, \nsoon passing into a half-maniacal, half-demented state. If \nthere be a single characteristic feature, it is a monomania of \nsuspicion. As the disease advances, the symptoms of de- \nmentia predominate ; but there are occasional brief attacks \nof irritable excitement and fitful flashes of intelligence. And \nin these cases, more often than in other cases, there occurs a \nmomentary revival of intelligence before death. We shall \nthe more readily admit the special features of phthisical \nmania when we call to mind that there is in most phthisical \npatients a peculiar mental state ; and that brief attacks of \ntemporary mania or delirium sometimes occur in the course \nof phthisis. The phthisical patient is irritable, fanciful, un- \nstable of purpose, brilliant, and imaginative, but wanting in \ncalmness and repose, quick of insight, but without depth and \ncomprehension ; every thing is fitful \xe2\x80\x94 fitful energy, fitful pro- \njects, fitful flashes of imagination. The hectic is in his ] \nthoughts and in his actions. The whims and imaginings of \nhis mind become almost wanderings at times, his fancies \nalmost delusions. \n\nI have now said enough concerning the sympathetic \nmental effects of disordered organs, not certainly to set forth \nadequately their nature, but to show the essential importance \n\n\n\n88 BODY AND MIND. \n\nof a careful study of them. To complete the exposition of \nthe action of pathological sympathies on mind, it would be \nnecessary to trace out the close relations that there are \nbetween the organic feelings and the different kinds of special \nsensibility \xe2\x80\x94 between systemic and sense consciousness. The \ndigestive organs have a close sympathy with the sense of \ntaste, as we observe in the bad taste accompanying indiges- \ntion, in the nausea and vomiting which a nauseous taste \nmay cause, and in the avoidance of poisonous matter by \nanimals. The respiratory organs and the sense of smell are, \nin like manner, sympathetically associated ; and there can be \nno doubt that the sense of smell has special relations with the \nsexual feeling. The state of the digestive organs notably \naffects the general sensibility of the skin. Disturbances of \nthese physiological sympathies may become the occasions of \ninsane delusions. Digestive derangement, perverting the \ntaste, will engender a delusion that the food is poisoned. \nDisease of the respiratory organs appears sometimes to pro- \nduce disagreeable smells, which are then perhaps attributed \nto objective causes, such as the presence of a corpse in the \nroom, or to gases maliciously disseminated in it by fancied \npersecutors. In mania, smell and taste are often grossly per- \nverted, for the patient will devour, with seeming relish and \navidity, dirt and garbage of the most offensive kind. Increase, \ndiminution, or perversion of the sensibility of the skin, one \nor other of which is not uncommon among the insane, may \nundoubtedly be the cause of extravagant delusions. "We \nhardly, indeed, realize how completely the mind is dependent \nupon the habit of its sensations. The man who has lost a \nlimb can hardly be persuaded that he has lost it, so sensible \nis he of the accustomed feelings in it ; years after he has lost \nit he dreams of vivid sensations and of active movements in \nit \xe2\x80\x94 has, in fact, both sensory and motor hallucinations. It is \neasy, then, to understand how greatly abnormal sensations \nmay perplex and deceive the unsound mind. A woman under \nEsquirol\'s care had complete anaesthesia of the skin: she \n\n\n\nHALLUCINATIONS. 89 \n\nbelieved that the devil had carried off her body. A soldier \n*vho was wounded at the battle of Austerlitz lost the sensibil- \nity of his skin, and from that time thought himself dead. \nWhen asked how he was, he replied, u Lambert no longer \nlives ; a cannon-ball carried him away at Austerlitz. What \nyou see is not Lambert, but a badly-imitated machine," which \nhe always spoke of as it. A patient under my care, who suf- \nfered from general paralysis, and had lost sensibility and \nvoluntary power of one side, could never be persuaded that \nanother patient, a very harmless fellow, had not got hold of \nhim, and was keeping him down ; and when convulsions \noccurred in the paralyzed side, as they did from time to time, \nhe swore terribly at his fancied tormentor. Were a sane per- \nson to wake up some morning with the cutaneous sensibility \ngone, or with a large area of it sending up to the brain per- \nverted and quite unaccountable impressions, it might be a \nhard matter perhaps for him to help going mad. \n\nThe mental effects of perverted sensation afford a promis- \ning field for future research ; when better understood it can- \nnot be doubted that they will explain many phenomena in \nthe pathology of mind that now quite baffle explanation. It \nbehooves us to clearly realize the broad fact, which has most \nwide-reaching consequences in mental physiology and pathol- \nogy, that all parts of the body, the highest and the lowest, \nhave a sympathy with one another more intelligent than \nconscious intelligence can yet, or perhaps ever will, conceive ; \nthat there is not an organic motion, visible or invisible, sen- \nsible or insensible, ministrant to the noblest or to the most \nhumble purposes, which does not work its appointed effect in \nthe complex recesses of mind ; that the mind, as the crowning \nachievement of organization, and the consummation and out- \ncome of all its energies, really comprehends the bodily life. \n\nI had originally set down within the purpose of these \nLectures the consideration, which I must now forego, of the \ninfluence of the quantity and quality of the blood in the pro- \nduction of insanity. Poverty and vitiation of blood may \n\n\n\n90 BODY AND MIND. \n\ncertainly play a weighty part in producing mental, as they do \nin producing other nervous disorders. Lower the supply of \nblood to the brain below a certain level, and the power of \nthinking is abolished ; the brain will then no more do mental \nwork than a water-wheel will move the machinery of the mill \nwhen the water is lowered so as not to touch it. When a \nstrong emotion produces a temporary loss of consciousness, \nit is to be presumed that a contraction of arteries takes place \nwithin the brain similar to that which causes the pallor of \njche face ; and when the laboring heart pumps hard to over- \ncome the obstruction, and the walls of the vessels are weak, \n(they may burst, and the patient die of effusion of blood, \nj During sleep the supply of blood to the brain is lessened \n(naturally, and we perceive the effects of the lowering of the \nsupply, as it takes place, in the sort of incoherence or mild \ndelirium of ideas just before falling off to sleep. To alike \ncondition of things we ought most probably to attribute the \nattacks of transitory mania or delirium that occur now and \nthen in consequence of great physical exhaustion, as from \ngreat and sudden loss of blood, or just as convalescence from \nfever or other acute disease is setting in, or in the prostration \nof phthisis, and which a glass of wine opportunely given will \nsometimes cure. The distress^of the melancholic patient is \ngreatest when he wakes in the morning, which is a time \nwhen a watch ought to be kept specially over the suicidal \npatient; the reason lying probably in the effects of the di- \nminished cerebral circulation during sleep. \n\nIf the state of the blood be vitiated by reason of some \npoison bred in the body, or introduced into it from without, \nthe mental functions may be seriously deranged. We are \nable, indeed, by means of the drugs at our command, to per- \nform all sorts of experiments on the mind : we can suspend \nits action for a time by chloral or chloroform, can exalt its \nfunctions by small doses of opium or moderate doses of alco- \nhol, can pervert them, producing an artificial delirium, by the \nadministration of large enough doses of belladonna and Indian \n\n\n\nVITIATED BLOOD. 91 \n\nhemp. We can positively do more experimentally with the \nfunctions of the mind-centres than we can do with those of \nany other organ of the body. When these are exalted in con- \nsequence of a foreign substance introduced into the blood, it \ncannot be doubted that some physical effect is produced on \nthe nerve-element, which is the condition of the increased \nactivity, not otherwise probably than as happens when a \nfever makes, as it certainly will sometimes do, a demented \nperson, whose mind seemed gone past all hope of even mo- \nmentary recovery, quite sensible for the time being. Perhaps \nthis should teach us that, just as there are vibrations of light \nwhich we cannot see, and vibrations of sound which we can- \nnot hear, so there are molecular movements in the brain which \nare incapable of producing thought ordinarily, not sufficing to \naffect consciousness, but which may do so when the sensi- \nbility of the molecules is exalted by physical or chemical \nmodification of them. \n\nAlcohol yields us, in its direct effects, the abstract and \nbrief chronicle of the course of mania. At first there is an \nagreeable excitement, a lively flow of ideas, a revival of old \nideas and feelings which seemed to have passed from the mind, \na general increase of mental activity \xe2\x80\x94 a condition very like \nthat which often precedes an attack of acute mania, when \nthe patient is witty, lively, satirical, makes jokes or rhymes, \nand certainly exhibits a brilliancy of fancy which he is capable \nof at no other time. Then there follows, in the next stage of \nits increasing action, as there does in mania, the automatic \nexcitation of ideas which start up and follow one another \nwithout order, so that thought and speech are more or less \nincoherent, while passion is easily excited. After this stage \nhas lasted for a time, in some longer, in others shorter, it \npasses into one of depression and maudlin melancholy, just as \nmania sometimes passes into melancholia, or convulsion into \nparalysis. And the last stage of all is one of stupor and de- \nmentia. If the abuse of alcohol be continued for years, it \nmay cause different forms of mental derangement, in each of \n\n\n\n92 BODY AND MIND. \n\nwhich the muscular are curiously like the mental symptoms : \ndelirium tremens in one, an acute noisy and destructive mania \nin another, chronic alcoholism in a third, and a condition of \nmental weakness with loss of memory and loss of energy in a \nfourth. \n\n"Writers on gout agree that a suppressed gout may entail \nmental derangement in some persons ; and, on the other hand, \nthat insanity has sometimes disappeared with the appearance \nof the usual gouty paroxysm. Sydenham noticed and described \na species of mania supervening on an epidemic of intermittent \nfever, which, he remarks, contrary to all other kinds of mad- \nness, would not yield to plentiful venesection and purging. \nGriesinger, again, has directed attention to cases in which, \ninstead of the usual symptoms of ague, the patient has had an \nintermittent insanity in regular tertian or quartan attacks, and \nhas been cured by quinine. We must bear in mind, however, \nthat intermittence may be a feature of insanity as of other \nnervous diseases, without ague having any thing whatever to \ndo with it, and without quinine doing any good whatever. \nQuinine will not cure the intermittence of nervous diseases, \nthough it may cure ague in which the symptoms are inter- \nmittent. Griesinger has also pointed out that mental disorder \nhas sometimes occurred in the course of acute rheumatism, \nthe swelling of the joints meanwhile subsiding. These facts, \nwith others which I cannot dwell upon now, prove how im- \nportant an agency in the production of insanity a perverted \nstate of the blood may be. But it is a mode of causation of \nwhich we know so little that I may justly declare we know \nnext to nothing. The observation and classification of mental \ndisorders have been so exclusively psychological that we have \nnot sincerely realized the fact that they illustrate the same \npathological principles as other diseases, are produced in the \nsame way, and must be investigated in the same spirit of posi- \ntive research. Until this be done I see no hope of improve- \nment in our knowledge of them, and no use in multiplying \nbooks about them. \n\n\n\nIDIOPATHIC INSANITY. 93 \n\nIt is quite true that when we have referred all the cases \nof insanity which we can to bodily causes, and grouped them \naccording to their characteristic bodily and mental features, \nthere will remain cases which we cannot refer to any recog- \nnizable bodily cause or connect with any definite bodily dis- \nease, and which we must be content to describe as idiopathic. \nThe explanation of these cases we shall probably discover \nultimately in the influence of the hereditary neurosis and in \nthe peculiarities of individual temperament. It is evident \nthat there are fundamental differences of temperament, and \nit is furthermore plain that different natures will be differently \nfavored in the struggle of existence ; one person will have an \nadvantage over another, and by the operation of the law of \nNatural Selection there will be a success of the fittest to suc- \nceed. It is with the development of mind in the conduct of life \nas it is with every form of life in its relation to its environ- \nment. Life is surrounded by forces that are always tending \nto destroy it, and with which it may be represented as in a \ncontinued warfare : so long as it contends successfully with \nthem, winning from them and constraining them to further \nits development, it flourishes ; but when it can no longer strive, \nwhen they succeed in winning from it and increasing at its \nexpense, it begins to decay and die. So it is with mind in \nthe circumstances of its existence : the individual who cannot \nuse circumstances, or accommodate himself successfully to \nthem, and in the one way or the other make them further his \ndevelopment, is controlled and used by them ; being weak, he \nmust be miserable, must be a victim ; and one way in wirich \nhis suffering and failure will be manifest will be in insanity. \nThus it is that mental trials which serve in the end to strength- \nen a strong nature break down a weak one which cannot fitly \nreact, and that the efficiency of a moral cause of insanity \nbetrays a conspiracy from within with the unfavorable out- \nward circumstances. \n\nIt behooves us to bear distinctly in mind, when we take \nthe moral causes of insanity into consideration, that the men- \n\n\n\n94 BODY AND MIND. \n\ntal suffering or psychical pain of a sad emotion testifies \nto actual wear and tear of nerve-element, to disintegration \nof some kind ; it is the exponent of a physical change. \nWhat the change is we know not; but we may take it to be \nbeyond question that, when a shock imparted to the mind \nthrough the senses causes a violent emotion, it produces a \nreal commotion in the molecules of the brain. It is not that \nan intangible something flashes inward and mysteriously af- \nfects an intangible metaphysical entity ; but that an impres- \nsion made on the sense is conveyed along nervous paths of \ncommunication, and produces a definite physical effect in \nphysically-constituted mind- centres ; and that the mental \neffect, which is the exponent of the physical change, may be \nthen transferred by molecular motion to the muscles, thus \ngetting muscular expression, or to the processes of nutrition \nand secretion, getting expression in modifications of them. \nWhen there is a native infirmity or instability of nerve- \nelement, in consequence of bad ancestral influences, the in- \ndividual will be more liable to, and will suffer more from, \nsuch violent mental commotions; the disintegrating change \nin the nerve-element will be more likely to pass into a disor- \nganization which rest and nutrition cannot repair, not other- \nwise than as happens with the elements of any other organ \nunder like conditions of excessive stimulation. As pbysi- \ncians, we cannot afford to lose sight of the physical aspects \nof mental states, if we would truly comprehend the nature \nof mental disease, and learn to treat it with success. The \nmetaphysician may, for the purposes of speculation, separate \nmind from body, and evoke the laws of its operation out of \nthe depths of self- consciousness; but the physician \xe2\x80\x94 who \nhas to deal practically with the thoughts, feelings, and con- \nduct of men ; who has to do with mind, not as an abstract \nentity concerning which he may be content to speculate, but \nas a force in Nature, the operations of which he must pa- \ntiently observe and anxiously labor to influence \xe2\x80\x94 must recog- \nnize how entirely the integrity of the mental functions de- \n\n\n\nUNITY OF BODY AND MIND. 95 \n\npends on the integrity of the bodily organization \xe2\x80\x94 must ac- \nknowledge the essential unity of body and mind. \n\nTo set forth this unity has been a chief aim in these Lec- \ntures, because I entertain a most sincere conviction that a \njust conception of it must lie at the foundation of a real ad- \nvance in our knowledge both of the physiology and pathol- \nogy of mind. I have no wish whatever to exalt unduly the \nbody ; I have, if possible, still less desire to degrade the mind ; \nbut I do protest, with all\' the energy I dare use, against the \nunjust and most unscientific practice of declaring the body \nvile and despicable, of looking down upon the highest and \nmost wonderful contrivance of creative skill as something of \nwhich man dare venture to feel ashamed. I cannot now \nsummarize the facts and arguments which I have brought \nforward ; I must trust to the indulgence of your memory of \nthem when I declare that to my mind it appears a clear sci- \nentific duty to repudiate the quotation from an old writer, \nwhich the late Sir "William Hamilton used to hang on the \nwall of his lecture-room : \n\n" On earth there is nothing great but man, \nIn man there is nothing great but mind." \n\nThe aphorism, which, like most aphorisms, contains an equal \nmeasure of truth and untruth, is suitable enough to the pure \nmetaphysician, but it is most unsuitable to the scientific in- \nquirer, who is bound to reject it, not because of that which \nis not true in it only, but much more because of the baneful \nspirit with which it is inspired. On earth there are assured- \nly other things great besides man, though none greater ; and \nin man there are other things great besides mind, though none \ngreater. And whosoever, inspired by the spirit of the aph- \norism, thinks to know any thing truly of man without study- \ning most earnestly the things on earth that lead up to man, \nor to know any thing truly of mind without studying most \nearnestly the things in. the body that lead up to and issue in \nmind, will enter on a barren labor, which, if not a sorrow to \n\n\n\n96 BODY AND MIND. \n\nhimself, will assuredly be sorrow and vexation of spirit to \nothers. To reckon the highest operations of mind to be \nfunctions of a mental organization is to exalt, not to degrade, \nour conception of creative power and skill. For, if it be \nlawful and right to burst into admiration of the wonderful \ncontrivance in Nature by which noble and beautiful products \nare formed out of base materials, it is surely much stronger \nevidence of contrivance to have developed the higher mental \nfunctions by evolution from the lower, and to have used \nforms of matter as the organic instruments of all. I know \nnot why the Power which created matter and its properties \nshould be thought not to have endowed it with the functions \nof reason, feeling, and will, seeing that, whether we discover \nit to be so endowed or not, the mystery is equally incompre- \nhensible to us, equally simple and easy to the Power which \ncreated matter and its properties. To a right-thinking and \nright-feeling mind, the beauty, the grandeur, the mystery of \nNature are augmented, not lessened, by each new glimpse into \nthe secret recesses of her operations. The sun going forth \nfrom its chamber in the east to run its course is not less glo- \nrious in majesty because we have discovered the law of gravi- \ntation, and are able by spectral analysis to detect the metals \nwhich enter into its composition \xe2\x80\x94 because it is no longer \nHelios driving his golden chariot though the pathless spaces \nof the heavens. The mountains are not less imposing in \ntheir grandeur because the Oreads have deserted them, nor \nthe groves less attractive, nor the streams more desolate, be- \ncause science has banished the Dryads and the Naiads. No, \nscience has not destroyed poetry, nor expelled the divine \nfrom Nature, but has furnished the materials, and given the \npresages, of a higher poetry and a mightier philosophy than \nthe world has yet seen. The grave of each superstition \nwhich it slays is the womb of a better birth. And if it \ncome to pass in its onward march \xe2\x80\x94 as it may well be it will \ncome to pass \xe2\x80\x94 that other superstitions shall be dethroned as \n\n\n\nSCIENCE AND POETRY. 97 \n\nthe sun-god has been dethroned, we may rest assured that \nthis also will be a step in human progress, and in the benefi- \ncent evolution of the Power which ruleth alike the courses \nof the stars and the ways of men. \n\n\n\nAPPENDIX \n\n\n\nI.\xe2\x80\x94 THE LIMITS OF PHILOSOPHICAL INQUIRY.* \n\nIt is not a little hard upon those who now devote them- \nselves to the patient interrogation of Nature, by means of \nobservation and experiment, that they should be counted, \nwhether they will or not, ministers of the so-called Positive \nPhilosophy, and disciples of him who is popularly considered \nthe founder of that philosophy. No matter that positive in- \nvestigation within the limits which Comte prescribes was \npursued earnestly and systematically before his advent, and \nwith an exactness of method of which he had no conception; \nthat many of those distinguished since his time for their \nscientific, researches and generalizations have been unac- \nquainted with his writings; that others who have studied \nthem withhold their adherence from his doctrines, or ener- \ngetically disclaim them. These things are not considered; \nso soon as a scientific inquirelNpushes his researches into the \nphenomena of life and mind, ne is held to be a Comtist. Thus \nit happens that there is a growing tendency in the public \nmind to identify modern science with the Positive Philosophy. \nConsidering how much mischief has often been done by iden- \n\n* Journal of Mental Science, No. 70. The Limits of Philosophical Inquiry. \nAddress delivered to the Members of the Edinburgh Philosophical Institu- \ntion, November 6, 1888. By William, Lord-Archbishop of York. (Edmon- \nston and Douglas.) \n\n\n\nTHE LIMITS OF PHILOSOPHICAL INQUIRY. \n\n\n\n99 \n\n\n\ntifying the character of an epoch of thought with the doc- \ntrines of some eminent man who has lived and labored and \ntaken the lead in it, and thus making his defects and errors, \nhardened into formulas, chains to fetter the free course of \nthought, it is no wonder that scientific men should be anxious \nto disclaim Comte as their lawgiver, and to protest against \nsuch a king being set up to reign over them. Not conscious \nof any personal obligation to his writings, conscious how \nmuch, in some respects, he has misrepresented the spirit and \npretensions of science, they repudiate the allegiance which \nhis enthusiastic disciples would force upon them, and which \npopular opinion is fast coming to think a natural one. Ahey \ndo well in thus making a timely assertion m indepen&n%e ; \nfor, if it be not done soon, it will soon be t<K> late to be do%e \nwell. "When we look back at tl^e histor^ of system! of re- \nligion and philosophy, it is almost appalling to reflect ho \nentirely one man has appropriated the intellectual develo]f|p \nment of his age, and how despotically he has constrained t \nfaith of generations after him ; the mind of mankind is abso- \nlutely oppressed by the weight of his authority, and his errors \nand limitations are deemed not less sacred than the true ideas \nof which he has been the organ: for a time he is made an \nidol, at the sound of whose name the human intellect is ex- \npected to fall down and worship, as\\ the people, nations, and \nlanguages were expected, at what time they heard the sound \nof the flute, harp, sackfmt, dulcmieii an^i all kinds of music, \nto fall down and worship the golaea image which Nebuchad- \nnezzar the king had set up. Happily it is not so easy to take \ncaptive the understanding now, |f hen thought is busy on so \nmany subjects in such various domains of Natmre, and when \nan army of investigators "often marches wher% formerly a \nsolitary pioneer painfully sought his way, as it yas when the \nfields of intellectual activity "were few and limited, and the \nlaborers in them few also. Nk ^^ \n\nA lecture delivered by the Archbishop of York before the \nEdinburgh Philosophical Institution, which has been pub- \n\n\n\n\n100 THE LIMITS OF \n\nlished as a pamphlet, contains a plain, earnest, and on the \nwhole temperate, bnt not very closely-reasoned, criticism, \nfrom his point of view, of the tendency of modern scientific \nresearch, or rather of Positivism, and a somewhat vague dec- \nlaration of the limits of philosophical inquiry. He perceives \nwith sorrow, but not with great apprehension, that the pros- \npects of philosophy are clouded over in England, France, and \nGermany, and that a great part of the thinking world is oc- \ncupied with physical researches. But he does not therefore \ndespair ; believing that Positivism indicates only a temporary \nmood, produced by prostration and lassitude after a period \nof unusual controversy, and that it will after a time pass \naway, and be followed by a new era of speculative activity. \nIt may be presumed that men, weary of their fruitless efforts \nto scale the lofty and seemingly barren heights of true philos- \nophy, have taken the easy path of Positivism, which does not \nlead upward at all, but leads, if it be followed far enough, to \nquagmires of unbelief. The facts on which the archbishop \nbases his opinion, and the steps of reasoning by which he is \nable thus to couple a period of speculative activity with a \nperiod of religious belief, and to declare a system of positive \nscientific research to be linked inseparably with a system of \nunbelief, do not appear ; they are sufficient to inspire strong \nconviction in him, but they apparently lie too far down in \nthe depths of his moral consciousness to be capable of being \nunfolded, in lucid sequence, to the apprehension of others. \n\nTo the critical reader of the lecture it must at once occur \nthat a want of discrimination between things that are wide- \nly different is the cause of no little looseness, if not reck- \nlessness, of assertion. In the first place, the archbishop \nidentifies off-hand the course and aim of modern scientific \nprogress with the Positivism of Comte and his followers. \nThis is very much as if any one should insist on attributing \nthe same character and the same aim to persons who were \ntravelling for a considerable distance along the same road. \nAs it was Oomte\'s great aim to organize a harmonious co- \n\n\n\nPHILOSOPHICAL INQUIRY. 101 \n\nordination and subordination of the sciences, he assimilated \nand used for his purpose the scientific knowledge which was \navailable to him, &nd systematized the observed method of \nscientific progress from the more simple and general to the \nmore special and complex studies ; but it assuredly is most \nunwarrantable to declare those who are engaged in physical \nresearch to be committed to his conclusions and pretensions, \nand there can be no question that a philosophy of science, \nwhen it is written, will differ widely from the so-called Posi- \ntive Philosophy. \n\nIn the second place, the archbishop unwittingly perpe- \ntrates a second and similarly reckless injustice in assuming, \nas he does, that modern science must needs accept what he \ndescribes as the sensational philosophy. " Thus the business \nof science," he says, "is to gather up the facts as they ap- \npear, without addition or perversion of the senses. As the \nsenses are our only means of knowledge, and we can only \nknow things as they present themselves to the eye and ear, \nit follows that our knowledge is not absolute knowledge of \nthe things, but a knowledge of their relations to us, that is, \nof our sensations." Passing by the question, which might \nwell be raised, whether any one, even the founder of the \nsensational philosophy, ever thus crudely asserted the senses \nto be our only means of knowledge, and our knowledge to \nbe only a knowledge of our sensations ; passing by, too, any \ndiscussion concerning what the archbishop means, if he \nmeans any thing, by an absolute knowledge of things as dis- \ntinct from a knowledge of things in their relations to us, and \nall speculations concerning the faculties which finite and rel- \native beings who are not archbishops have of apprehending \nand comprehending the absolute ; it is necessary to protest \nagainst the assumption that science is committed to such a \nrepresentation of the sensational philosophy, or to the sensa- \ntional philosophy at all. Those modern inquirers who have \npushed farthest their physical researches into mental func- \ntions and bodily organs have notoriously been at great pains \n\n\n\n102 THE LIMITS OF \n\nto discriminate between the nervous centres which minister \nto sensation and those which minister to reflection, and have \ndone much to elucidate the physical and functional connec- \ntions between them. They have never been guilty of calling \nall knowledge a knowledge only of sensations, for they rec- \nognize how vague, barren, and unmeaning, are the terms of \nthe old language of philosophical strife, when an attempt is \nmade to apply them with precision to the phenomena re- \nvealed by exact scientific observation. The sensorial centres \nwith which the senses are in direct connection are quite dis- \ntinct from, and subordinate to, the nervous centres of idea- \ntion or reflection \xe2\x80\x94 the supreme hemispherical ganglia. It is \nin these, which are far more developed in man than in any \nother animal, and more developed in the higher than in the \nlower races of men, that sensation is transformed into knowl- \nedge, and that reflective consciousness has its seat. The \nknowledge so acquired is not drained from the outer world \nthrough the senses, nor is it a physical mixture or a chemical \ncompound of so much received from without and so much \nadded by the mind or brain ; it is an organized result of a \nmost complex and delicate process of development in the \nhighest kind of organic element in Nature\xe2\x80\x94 a mental organi- \nzation accomplished, like any other organization, in accord- \nance with definite laws. "We have to do with laws of life, \nand the language used in the interpretation of phenomena \nmust accord with ideas derived from the study of organiza- \ntion ; for assuredly it cannot fail to produce confusion if it be \nthe expression only of ideas derived from the laws of phys- \nical phenomena, so far as these are at present known to us. \nNow, the organization of a definite sensation is a very differ- \nent matter from, has no resemblance in Nature to, the phys- \nical impression made upon the organ of sense, and the or- \nganization of an idea is a higher and more complex vital \nprocess than the organization of a sensation ; to call knowl- \nedge, therefore, a knowledge only of sensation is either a \nmeaningless proposition, or, in so far as it has meaning, it is \n\n\n\nPHILOSOPHICAL INQUIRY. 103 \n\nfalser than it would be to affirm the properties of a chemical \ncompound to be those of its constituents. Were they who \npursue the scientific study of mind not more thoughtful than \nthe Archbishop of York gives them credit for being, they \nwould have no reason to give why animals with as many \nsenses as man has, and with some of them more acute than \nhis, have not long since attained, like him, to an understand- \ning of the benefits of establishing archbishoprics. \n\nIt must be understood that by the assertion of the organic \nbasis of mental function is not meant that the mind imposes \nthe laws of its own organization; on the contrary, it obeys \nthem, knowing not whence they come nor whither they \ntend. Innate ideas, fundamental ideas, categories of the un- \nderstanding, and like metaphysical expressions, are obscure \nintimations of the laws of action of the internal organizing \npower under the conditions of its existence and exercise ; \nand it is easy to perceive that a new and higher sense con- \nferred on man, altering entirely these conditions, would at \nonce render necessary a new order of fundamental ideas or \ncategories of the understanding. That all our knowledge is \nrelative cannot be denied, unless it be maintained that in that \nwonderful organizing power which cometh from afar there \nlies hidden that which may be intuitively revealed to con- \nsciousness as absolute knowledge \xe2\x80\x94 that the nature of the \nmysterious power which inspires and impels evolution may, \nby a flash of intuitive consciousness, be made manifest to \nthe mind in the process of its own development. If Nature \nbe attaining to a complete self-consciousness in man, far \naway from such an end as it seems to be, it is conceivable \nthat this might happen ; and if such a miraculous inspiration \nwere thus to reveal the unknown, it would be a revelation of \nthe one primeval Power. Clearly, however, as positive sci- \nentific research is powerless before a vast mystery \xe2\x80\x94 the \nwhence, what, and whither, of the mighty power which \ngives the impulse to evolution \xe2\x80\x94 it is not justified in making \nany proposition regarding it. This, however, it may rightly \n\n\n\n104 THE LIMITS OF \n\ndo ; while keeping its inquiries within the limits of the \nknowable, it may examine critically, and use all available \nmeans of testing, the claims and credentials of any professed \nrevelation of the mystery. And it is in the pursuit of such \ninquiries that it would have been satisfactory to have had \nfrom the archbishop, as a high-priest of the mystery, some \ngleam of information as to the proper limits which he be- \nlieves ought to be observed. At what point is the hitherto \nand no farther to which inquiry may advance in that direc- \ntion ? "Where do we reach the holy ground when it becomes \nnecessary to put the scientific shoes from off our feet ? There \nmust assuredly be some right and duty of examination into \nthe evidence of revelations claiming to be Divine ; for, if it \nwere not so, how could the intelligent Mussulman ever be, \nif he ever is, persuaded to abandon the one God of his faith, \nand to accept what must seem to him the polytheism of the \nChristian Trinity ? \n\nAnother error, or rather set of errors, into which the \narchbishop plunges, is that he assumes positive science to be \nmaterialistic, and materialism to involve the negation of God, \nof immortality, and of free will. This imputation of mate- \nrialism, which ought never to have been so lightly made, it is \nquite certain that the majority of scientific men would ear- \nnestly disclaim. Moreover, the materialist, as such, is not \nunder any logical constraint whatever to deny either the ex- \nistence of a God, or the immortality of the soul, or free will. \nOne is almost tempted to say that in two things the arch- \nbishop distances competition : first, in the facility with which \nhe loses or dispenses with the links of his own chain of rea- \nsoning; and, secondly, in his evident inability to perceive, \nwhen looking sincerely with all his might, real and essential \ndistinctions which are at all subtile, which are not broadly, \nand almost coarsely, marked. If the edge of a distinction be \nfine, if it be not as blunt as a weaver\'s beam, it fails seem- \ningly to attract his attention. Whosoever believes sincerely \nin the doctrine of the resurrection of the body, as taught by \n\n\n\nPHILOSOPHICAL INQUIRY. 105 \n\nthe Apostle Paul, which all Christians profess to do, must \nsurely have some difficulty in conceiving the immortality of \nthe soul apart from that of the body; for, if the apostle\'s \npreaching and the Christian\'s faith be not vain, and the body \ndo rise again, then it may be presumed that the soul and it \nwill share a common immortality, as they have shared a com- \nmon mortality. So far, then, from materialism being the ne- \ngation of immortality, the greatest of the apostles, the great \nApostle of the Gentiles, earnestly preached materialism as es- \nsential to the life which is to come. There is as little or less \njustification for saying that materialism involves of necessity \nthe denial of free will. The facts on which the doctrine of \nfree will is based are the same facts of observation, whether \nspiritualism or materialism be the accepted faith, and the \nquestion of their interpretation is not essentially connected \nwith the one or the other faith ; the spiritualist may consist- \nently deny, and the materialist consistently advocate, free \nwill. In like manner, the belief in the existence of God is \nnowise inconsistent with the most extreme materialism, for \nthe belief is quite independent of the facts and reasons on \nwhich that faith is founded. The spiritualist may deny God \nthe power to make matter think, but the materialist need not \ndeny the existence of God because he holds that matter may \nbe capable of thought. Multitudes may logically believe that \nmind is inseparable from body in life or death \xe2\x80\x94 that it is \nborn with it, grows, ripens, decays, and dies with it, without \ndisbelieving in a great and intelligent Power who has called \nman into being, and ordained the greater light to rule the day \nand the lesser light to rule the night. \n\nWhat an unnecessary horror hangs over the word materi- \nalism ! It has an ugly sound and an indefinite meaning, and \nis well suited, therefore, to be set up as a sort of moral \nscarecrow ; but, if it be closely examined, it will be found to \nhave the semblance of something terrible, and to be empty \nof any real harm. In the assertion that mind is altogether a \nfunction of matter, there is no more actual irreverence than in \n\n\n\n106 THE LIMITS OF \n\nasserting that matter is the realization of mind ; the one and \nthe other proposition being equally meaningless so far as they \npostulate a knowledge of any thing more than phenomena. \nWhether extension be visible thought, or thought invisible ex- \ntension, is a question of a choice of words, and not of a choice \nof conceptions. To those who cannot conceive that any or- \nganization of matter, however complex, should be capable of \nsuch exalted functions as those which are called mental, is it \nreally more conceivable that any organization of matter can \nbe the mechanical instrument of the complex manifestations \nof an immaterial mind ? Is it not as easy for an omnipotent \npower to endow matter with mental functions as it is to \ncreate an immaterial entity capable of accomplishing them \nthrough matter ? Is the Creator\'s arm shortened, so that He \ncannot endow matter with sensation and ideation? It is \nstrangely overlooked by many who write on this matter, that \nthe brain is not a dead instrument, but a living organ, with \nfunctions of a higher kind than those of any other bodily \norgan, insomuch as its organic nature and structure far sur- \npass those of any other organ. What, then, are those func- \ntions if they are not mental ? ISTo one thinks it necessary to \nassume an immaterial liver behind the hepatic structure, in or- \nder to account for its functions. But so far as the nature of \nnerve and the complex structure of the cerebral convolutions \nexceed in dignity the hepatic elements and structure, so far \nmust the material functions of the brain exceed those of the \nliver. Men are not sufficiently careful to ponder the wonder- \nful operations of which matter is capable, or to reflect on the \nmiracles effected by it which are continually before their eyes. \nAre the properties of a chemical compound less mysterious \nessentially because of the familiarity with which we handle \nthem ? Consider the seed dropped into the ground : it swells \nwith germinating energy, bursts its integuments, sends up- \nward a delicate shoot, which grows into a stem, putting forth \nin due season its leaves and flowers, until finally a beautiful \nstructure is formed, such as Solomon in all his glory could not \n\n\n\nPHILOSOPHICAL INQUIRY. 107 \n\nequal, and all the art of mankind cannot imitate. And yet \nall these processes are operations of matter; for it is not \nthought necessary to assume an immaterial or spiritual plant \nwhich effects its purposes through the agency of the material \nstructure which we observe. Surely there are here exhibited \nproperties of matter wonderful enough to satisfy any one of \nthe powers that may be inherent in it. Are we, then, to be- \nlieve that the highest and most complex development of or- \nganic structure is not capable of even more wonderful opera- \ntions ? Would you have the human body, which is a micro- \ncosm containing all the forms and powers of matter organized \nin the most delicate and complex manner, to possess lower \npowers than those forms of matter exhibit separately in Na- \nture ? Trace the gradual development of the nervous system \nthrough the animal series, from its first germ to its most com- \nplex evolution, and let it be declared at what point it sudden- \nly loses all its inherent properties as living structure, and be- \ncomes the mere mechanical instrument of a spiritual entity. \nIn what animal, or in what class of animals, does the imma- \nterial principle abruptly intervene and supersede the agency \nof matter, becoming the entirely distinct cause of a similar, \nthough more exalted, order of mental phenomena? To ap- \npeal to the consciousness of every man for the proof of a \npower within him, totally distinct from any function of the \nbody, is not admissible as an argument, while it is admitted \nthat consciousness can make no observation of the bodily or- \ngan and its functions, and until therefore it be proved that \nmatter, even when in the form of the most complex organi- \nzation, is incapable of certain mental functions. Why may it \nnot, indeed, be capable of consciousness, seeing that, whether \nit be or not, the mystery is equally incomprehensible to us, \nand must be reckoned equally simple and easy to the Power \nwhich created matter and its properties ? When, again, we \nare told that every part of the body is in a constant state of \nchange, that within a certain period every particle of it is re- \nnewed, and yet that amid these changes a man feels that he \n\n\n\n108 THE LIMITS OF \n\nremains essentially the same, we perceive nothing inconsist- \nent in the idea of the action of a material organ ; for it is not \nabsurd to suppose that in the brain the new series of particles \ntake the pattern of those which they replace, as they do in \nother organs and tissues which are continually changing their \nsubstance yet preserve their identity. Even the scar of a \nwound on the finger is not often effaced, but grows as the \nbody grows : why, then, assume the necessity of an imma- \nterial principle to prevent the impression of an idea from be- \ning lost ? \n\nThe truth is, that men have disputed vaguely and violently \nabout matter and motion, and about the impossibility of mat- \nter affecting an immaterial mind, never having been at the \npains fco reflect carefully upon the different kinds of matter \nand the corresponding differences of kind in its motions. All \nsorts of matter, diverse as they are, were vaguely matter \xe2\x80\x94 \nthere was no discrimination made ; and all the manifold and \nspecial properties of matter were comprised under the gen- \neral term motion. This was not, nor could it lead to, good; \nfor matter really rises in dignity from physical matter in \nwhich physical properties exist to chemical matter and chem- \nical forces, and from chemical matter to living matter and its \nmodes of force ; and then in the scale of life a continuing as- \ncent leads from the lowest kind of living matter with its force \nor energy, through different kinds of physiological elements \nwith their special energies or functions, to the highest kind \nof living matter with its force \xe2\x80\x94 viz., nerve-matter and nerve- \nforce ; and, lastly, through the different kinds of nerve-cell3 \nand their energies to the most exalted agents of mental func- \ntion. Obviously, then, simple ideas derived from observation \nof mechanical phenomena cannot fitly be applied to the ex- \nplanation of the functions of that most complex combination \nof elements and energies, physical and chemical, in a small \nspace, which we have in living structure ; to speak of me- \nchanical vibration in nerves and nerve-centres is to convey \nfalse ideas of their extremely delicate and complex energies, \n\n\n\nPHILOSOPHICAL INQUIRY. 109 \n\nand thus seriously to hinder the formation of more just con- \nceptions. \n\nIn like manner, much barren discussion has been owing \nto the undiscriminating inclusion of all kinds of mental mani- \nfestations under the vague and general term mind ; for there \nare most important differences in the nature and dignity of \nso-called mental phenomena, when they are properly observed \nand analyzed. Those who have not been at the pains to \nfollow the order of development of mental phenomena and \nto make themselves acquainted with the different kinds of \nfunctions that concur to form what we call mental action, \nand who have not studied the differences of matter, are doing \nno better than beating the air when they disclaim against \nmaterialism. By rightly submitting the understanding to \nfacts, it is made evident that, on the one hand, matter rises \nin dignity and function until its energies merge insensibly \ninto functions which are described as mental, and, on the \nother hand, that there are gradations of mental function, the \nlowest of which confessedly do not transcend the functions \nof matter. The burden of proving that the Deus ex macMnd \nof a spiritual entity intervenes somewhere, and where it \nintervenes, clearly lies upon those who make the assertion or \nwho need the hypothesis. They are not justified in arbitra- \nrily fabricating an hypothesis entirely inconsistent with ex- \nperience of the orderly development of Nature, which even \npostulates a domain of Nature that human senses cannot take \nany cognizance of, and in then calling upon those who reject \ntheir assumption to disprove it. These have done enough if \nthey show that there are no grounds for and no need of the \nhypothesis. \n\nHere we might properly take leave of the archbishop\'s \naddress, were it not that the looseness of his statements and \nthe way in which his understanding is governed by the old \nphrases of philosophical disputes tempt further criticism, and \nmake it a duty to expose aspects of the subject of which he \ndoes not evince the least apprehension. He would, we inia- \n\n\n\n110 THE LIMITS OF \n\ngine, be hard put to it to support the heavy indictment con- \ntained in the following sentence which he flings off as he \ngoes heedlessly forward: " A system which pretends to dis- \npense with the ideas of God, of immortality, of free agency, \nof causation, and of design, would seem to offer few attrac- \ntions." The question of the value of any system of philosophy \nis not, it may be observed incidentally, whether it is unattrac- \ntive because it dispenses with received notions, still less \nbecause its adversaries imagine that it must dispense with \nthem; but it is whether it possesses that degree of funda- \nmental truth which will avail to enlarge the knowledge and \nto attract ultimately the belief of mankind. History does not \nrecord that the doctrines of Christianity were found attractive \nby the philosophers of Greece or Rome when they were first \npreached there ; does, indeed, record that Paul preaching on \nMars\' Hill at Athens, the city of intellectual enlightenment, \nand declaring to the inhabitants the unknown God whom \nthey ignorantly worshipped, made no impression, but found \nit prudent to depart thence to Corinth, nowise renowned at \nthat time as a virtuous city, renowned, indeed, in far other \nwise. "We have not, however, quoted the foregoing sentence \nin order to repudiate popular attractiveness as a criterion of \ntruth, but to take occasion to declare the wide difference be- \ntween the modest spirit of scientific inquiry and the confident \ndogmatism of the so-called Positive Philosophy. Science, \nrecognizing the measure of what it can impart to be bounded \nby the existing limits of scientific inquiry, makes no proposi- \ntion whatever concerning that which lies beyond these lim- \nits ; equally careful, on the one hand, to avoid a barren \nenunciation in words of what it cannot apprehend in \nthought, and, on the other hand, to refrain from a blind \ndenial of possibilities transcending its means of research. A \ncalm acquiescence in ignorance until light comes is its atti- \ntude. It must be borne clearly in mind, however, that this \nscrupulous care to abstain from presumptuous assertions does \nnot warrant the imposition of any arbitrary barrier to the \n\n\n\nPHILOSOPHICAL INQUIRY. m \n\nreach of its powers, but is quite consistent with the convic- \ntion of the possibility of an invasion and subjugation of the \nunknown to a practically unlimited extent, and with the most \nstrenuous efforts to lessen its domain. \n\nThe wonder is \xe2\x80\x94 and the more it is considered the greater \nit seems \xe2\x80\x94 that human intelligence should ever have grown to \nthe height either of affirming or of denying the existence of a \nGod. Certainly the denial implies, even if the affirmation \ndoes not also, the assumption of the attributes of a God by \nhim who makes it. Let imagination travel unrestrained \nthrough the immeasurable heavens, past the myriads of orbs \nwhich, revolving in their appointed paths, constitute our \nsolar system, through distances which words cannot express \nnor mind conceive definitely, to other suns and other planet- \nary systems ; beyond these glimmer in the vast distance the \nlights of more solar systems, whose rays, extinguished in the \nvoid, never reach our planet : still they are not the end, for \nas thought in its flight leaves them behind, and they vanish \nin remote space, other suns appear, until, as the imagination \nstrives to realize their immensity, the heavens seem almost \nan infinite void, so small a space do the scattered clusters of \nplanets fill. Then let sober reflection take up the tale, and, \nremembering how small a part of the heavenly hosts our \nsolar system is, and how small a part of our solar system \nthe earth is, consider how entirely dependent man, and \nbeast, and plant, and every living thing are upon the heat \nwhich this our planet receives from the sun; how vege- \ntation flourishes through its inspiring influence, and the \nvegetation of the past in long-buried forests gives up again \nthe heat which ages ago it received from the sun ; how animal \nlife is sustained by the life of the vegetable kingdom, and by \nthe heat which is received directly from the sun ; and how \nman, as the crown of living things, and his highest mental \nenergy, as the crown of- his development, depend on all that \nhas gone before him in the evolution of Nature \xe2\x80\x94 considering \nall these things, does not living Nature appear but a small \n\n\n\n112 THE LIMITS OF \n\nand incidental by-play of the sun\'s energies ? Seems it not \nan unspeakable presumption to affirm that man is the main \nend and purpose of creation ? Is it not appalling to think \nthat he should dare to speak of what so far surpasses the \nreach of his feeble senses, and of the power which ordains \nand governs the order of events \xe2\x80\x94 impiously to deny the \nexistence of a God, or not less impiously to create one in his \nimage? The portion of the universe with which man is \nbrought into relation by his existing sentiency is but a frag- \nment, and to measure the possibilities of the infinite unknown \nby the standard of what he knows is very much as if the \noyster should judge all Nature by the experience gained with- \nin its shell \xe2\x80\x94 should deny the existence on earth of a human \nbeing, because its intelligence cannot conceive his nature or \nrecognize his works. Encompassing us and transcending our \nken is a universe of energies ; how can man, then, the " feeble \natom of an hour," presume to affirm whose glory the heavens \ndeclare, whose handiwork the firmament showeth? Certain- \nly true science does not so dogmatize. \n\nBacon, in a well-known and often-quoted passage, has re- \nmarked, that u a little philosophy inclineth men\'s minds to \nAtheism, but depth in philosophy bringeth men\'s minds about \nto religion; for while the mind of man looketh upon second \ncauses scattered, it may sometimes rest in them, and go no \nfurther ; but when it beholdeth the chain of them, confeder- \nate and linked together, it must needs fly to Providence and \nDeity." It is not easy to perceive, indeed, how modern sci- \nence, which makes its inductions concerning natural forces \nfrom observation of their manifestations, and arrives at \ngeneralizations of different forces, can, after observation of \nNature, avoid the generalization of an intelligent mental \nforce, linked in harmonious association and essential relations \nwith other forces, but leading and constraining them to higher \naims of evolution. To speak of such evolution as the course \nof Nature is to endow an undefined agency with the proper- \nties which are commonly assigned to a god, whether it be \n\n\n\nPHILOSOPHICAL INQUIRY. 113 \n\ncalled God or not. The nature, aim, and power of this su- \npreme intelligent force, working so far as we know from \neverlasting to everlasting, it is plainly impossible that man, a \nfinite and transient part of Nature, should comprehend. To \nsuppose him capable of doing so, would be to suppose him \nendowed with the very attributes which, having only in part \nhimself, he ascribes in the whole to Deity, \n\nWhether the low savage has or has not the idea of a God \nis a question which seems hardly to deserve the amount of \nattention which it has received. It is certain that he feels \nhimself surrounded and overruled by forces the natures and \nlaws of which he is quite ignorant of, and that he is apt to \ninterpret them, more or less clearly, as the work of some \nbeing of like passions with himself, but vastly more powerful, \nwhom it is his interest to propitiate. Indeed, it would ap- \npear, so far as the information of travellers enables us to \njudge, that the idea entertained of God by the savage who \nhas any such idea is nearly allied to that which civilized peo- \nple have or have had of a devil ; for it is the vague dread of \na being whose delight is in bringing evil upon him rather \nthan that of a being who watches over and protects him. \nBeing ignorant altogether of the order of Nature, and of the \nfixed laws under which calamities and blessings alike come, \nhe frames a dim, vague, and terrible embodiment of the causes \nof those effects which touch him most painfully. Will it be \nbelieved, then, that the Archbishop of York actually appeals \nto the instinct of the savage to rebuke the alleged atheism \nof science ? Let it be granted, however, that the alleged in- \nstinct of the savage points to a God and not to a devil ruling \nthe world, it must in all fairness be confessed that it is a dim, \nundefined, fearful idea \xe2\x80\x94 if that can be called an idea which \nform has none \xe2\x80\x94 having no relationship to the conception of \na God which is cherished among civilized people. In like \nmanner as the idea of a devil has undergone a remarkable \ndevelopment with the growth of intelligence from age to age, \nuntil in some quarters there is evinced a disposition to im- \n\n\n\n114 THE LIMITS OF \n\nprove him out of being, so the conception of a God has under- \ngone an important development through the ages, in corre- \nspondence with the development of the human mind. The \nconceptions of God affirmed by different revelations notably \nreflect, and are an index of, the intellectual and moral char- \nacter of the people to whom each revelation has been made, \nand the God of the same religion does unquestionably advance \nwith the mental evolution of the people professing it, being \ndifferently conceived of at different stages of culture. Art, \nin its early infancy, when it is, so to speak, learning its steps, \nendeavors to copy Nature, and, copying it badly, exaggerates \nand caricatures it, whence the savage\'s crude notion of a God ; \nbut the aim and work of the highest art is to produce by \nidealization the illusion of a higher reality, whence a more \nexalted and spiritual conception of Deity. \n\nNotwithstanding the archbishop\'s charge of atheism \nagainst science, there is hardly one, if indeed there be even \none, eminent scientific inquirer who has denied the existence \nof God, while there is notably more than one who has \nevinced a childlike simplicity of faitb. The utmost claim of \nscientific skepticism is the right to examine the evidence of a \nrevelation professing to be Divine, in the same searching way \nas it would examine any other evidence \xe2\x80\x94 to endeavor to trace \nthe origin and development, and to weigh the value, of re- \nligious conceptions as of other conceptions. It violates the \nfundamental habit of the scientific mind, the very principle \nof its nature, to demand of it the unquestioning acceptance \nof any form of faith which tradition may hand down as \ndivinely revealed. When the followers of a religion appeal, \nas the followers of every religion do, in proof of it, to the \ntestimony of miraculous events contrary to the experience \nof the present order of Nature, there is a scientific fact not \ncontrary to experience of the order of Nature which they \noverlook, but which it is incumbent to bear in mind, viz. : \nThat eager and enthusiastic disciples sometimes have visions \nand dream dreams, and that they are apt innocently to ima- \n\n\n\nPHILOSOPHICAL INQUIBY. 115 \n\ngine or purposely to invent extraordinary or supernatural \nevents worthy the imagined importance of the subject, and \nanswering the burning zeal of their faith. The calm observer \nand sincere interpreter of Nature cannot set capricious or \narbitrary bounds to his inquiries at any point where another \nmay assert that he ought to do so ; he cannot choose but \nclaim and maintain the right to search and try what any \nman, Jew or Gentile, Mussulman or Bramin, has declared \nsacred, and to see if it be true. And, if it be not true to him, \nwhat matters it how true it be ? The theologian tells him \nthat the limits of philosophical inquiry are where faith be- \ngins, but he is concerned to find out where faith does begin, \nand to examine what sort of evidence the evidence of things \nunseen is. And if this right of free inquiry be denied him, \nthen is denied him the right to doubt what any visionary, or \nfanatic, or madman, or impostor, may choose to proclaim as a \nrevelation from the spiritual world. \n\nToward the close of his lecture the archbishop, breaking \nout into peroration, becomes violently contemptuous of the \nphilosopher who, a with his sensations sorted and tied up \nand labelled to the utmost, might," he thinks, "chance to \nfind himself the most odious and ridiculous being in all the \nmultiform creation. A creature so glib, so wise, so full of \ndiscourse, sitting in the midst of creation with all its mystery \nand wonder, and persuading you that he is the master of its \nsecrets, and that there is nothing but what he knows ! " It \nis not very difficult to raise a laugh by drawing a caricature ; \nbut it was hardly, perhaps, worthy the lecturer, the subject, \nand the audience, to exhibit on such an occasion an archi- \nepiscopal talent for drawing caricatures. As we have al- \nready intimated, this philosopher, " so glib, so wise, so full \nof discourse," does not profess to know nearly so much of \nthe mystery and wonder of creation as the archbishop does. \nThere is more flourishing language of the same sort before \nthe discourse ends, but it would be unprofitable to transcribe \nor criticise it; and it is only right to the lecturer to say that \n\n\n\n116 THE LIMITS OF \n\nhe is near his conclusion when he works himself up into this \nvituperative and somewhat hysterical ecstasy. The follow- \ning passage may be quoted, however, as instructive in more \nrespects than one : \n\n." The world offers just now the spectacle, humiliating to us in \nmany ways, of millions of people clinging to their old idolatrous reli- \ngions, and refusing to change them even for a higher form ; while in \nChristian Europe thousands of the most cultivated class are beginning \nto consider atheism a permissible or even a desirable thing. The very \ninstincts of the savage rebuke us. But just when we seem in danger \nof losing all may come the moment of awakening to the dangers of \nour loss. A world where thought is a secretion of the brain-gland \xe2\x80\x94 \nwhere free will is the dream of a madman that thinks he is an em- \nperor, though naked and in chains \xe2\x80\x94 where God is not or at least not \nknowable, such is not the world as we have learned it, on which \ngreat lives have been lived out, great self-sacrifices dared, great piety \nand devotion have been bent on softening the sin, the ignorance, and \nthe misery. It is a world from which the sun is withdrawn, and with \nit all light and life. But this is not our world as it was, not the world \nof our fathers. To live is to think and to will. To think is to see \nthe chain of facts in creation, and passing along its golden links to \nfind the hand of God at its beginning, as we saw His handiwork in its \ncourse. And to will is to be able to know good and evil ; and to will \naright is to submit the will entirely to a will higher than ours. So \nthat with God alone can we find true knowledge and true rest, the \nvaunted fruits of philosophy." \n\nWas ever before such a terrible indictment against Chris- \ntianity drawn by a Christian prelate? Its doctrines have \nnow been preached for nearly two thousand years ; they \nhave had the aids of vast armies, of incalculable wealth, of \nthe greatest genius and eloquence ; they are embodied in the \nresults of conquests, in the sublimest works of art, in some \nof the noblest specimens of oratory, in the very organization \nof modern society ; thousands upon thousands have died \nmartyrs to their faith in them, and thousands more have been \nmade martyrs for want of faith in them ; they have been \ncarried to the darkest places of the earth by the vehicles of \ncommerce, have been proclaimed by the messengers and \n\n\n\nPHILOSOPHICAL INQUIRY. ifj \n\nbacked by the moral power of a higher civilization; they \nare almost identified with the spirit and results of modern \nscientific progress : all these advantages they have had, \nand yet the archbishop can do no more than point to the \n-spectacle of millions of people clinging to their old idola- \ntrous religions, and to thousands of the most cultivated class \nin Christian Europe who are beginning to consider atheism a \npermissible or even a desirable thing ! Whether it be really \ntrue that so many of the cultivated class in Europe are \ngravitating toward atheism we cannot say ; but, if the allega- \ntion be true, it may well be doubted whether an appeal to \nthe instincts of the savage who persists in clinging to his \nidolatry will avail to convince them of their error. It is not \nvery consistent on the archbishop\'s part to make such an ap- \npeal, who in another paragraph of his lecture emphatically \nenjoins on philosophy not to banish God, freedom, duty, and \nimmortality from the field of its inquiries, adjuring it solemnly \nnever to consent to abandon these highest subjects of study. \nAnother comment on the passage above quoted which sug- \ngests itself is that men have undergone great self-sacrifices, \nsufferings, and death, for a bad cause with as firm and cheer- \nful a resolution as good men have for the best cause ; to die \nfor a faith is no proof whatever of the truth of it, nor by \nany means always the best service which a man may render it. \nAtheism counts its martyrs as well as Christianity. Jordano \nBruno, the friend of Sir Philip Sidney, was condemned for \natheism, sentenced to death, and, refusing to recant, burned \nat the stake. Vanini, who suffered death as an atheist, \nmight have been pardoned the moment before his execution \nif he would have retracted his doctrines; but he chose to be \nburned to ashes rather than retract. To these might be \nadded others who have gone through much persecution and \ngrievous suffering for a cause which the Archbishop of York \nwould count the worst for which a man could suffer. How \nmany Christians of one sect have undergone lingering tor- \ntures and cruel deaths at the hands of Christians of another \n\n\n\n118 THE LIMITS OF \n\nsect for the sake of small and non-essential points of doc- \ntrine in which only they differed \xe2\x80\x94 for points at issue so mi- \nnute as to " be scarcely visible to the nicest theological eye ! " \nChristianity has sometimes been a terrible war-cry, and it \nmust be confessed that Christians have been good persecu- \ntors. When the passions of men have worked a faith into \nenthusiasm, they will suffer and die, and inflict suffering and \ndeath, for any cause, good or bad. The appeal to martyr- \ndom of professors is therefore of small worth as an argu- \nment for the truth of their doctrine. Pity \'tis that it is so, \nfor, if it were otherwise, if self-sacrifice in a cause would suf- \nfice to establish it, what a noble and powerful argument in \nsupport of the Christian verities might archbishops and bish- \nops offer, in these sad times of luxury and unbelief when so \nmany are lapsing into atheism ! \n\nBut we must bring to an end these reflections, which are \nsome of those that have been suggested by the perusal of the \narchiepiscopal address on the "Limits of Philosophical In- \nquiry.\' \' Though heavy charges are laid against modern sci- \nence, they are made in a thoughtless rather than a bitter \nspirit, while the absence of bigotry and the general candor \ndisplayed may justify a hope that the author will, on reflec- \ntion, perceive his opinions to require further consideration, \nand his statements to be too indiscriminate and sweeping. \nOn the whole there is, we think, less reason to apprehend \nharm to scientific inquiry from this discharge of the arch- \nbishop\'s feelings, than to apprehend harm to those who are \nobstinately defending the religious position against the attack \nwhich is thought imminent. For he has used his friends \nbadly : he has exposed their entire flank to the enemy ; \nwhile he would distinctly have philosophy concern itself \nwith the highest subjects \xe2\x80\x94 God, freedom, and immortality \xe2\x80\x94 \ndespising a philosophy which forbears to do so, and pointing \nout how miserably it falls short of its highest mission, he \nwarns philosophy in the same breath that there is a point at \nwhich its teaching ends. \n\n\n\nPHILOSOPHICAL INQUIRY. 119 \n\n"Philosophy, while she is teaching morals and religion, \nwill soon come to a point where her teaching tends. . . She \nwill send her scholars to seek in revelation and practical \nobedience the higher culture that she can only commence." \n\nThe pity of the matter is, that we are not furnished with \na word of guidance as to where the hitherto and no farther \npoint is. With brave and flourishing words he launches the \ninquirer on a wide waste of waters, but without a rudder to \nguide him, or a compass to steer by. Is he to go on so long \nas what he discovers is in conformity with the Gospel accord- \ning to the Thirty-nine Articles, but furl-to his sails, cease his \nexertions, and go down on his knees, the moment his discov- \neries clash with the faith according to the Thirty-nine Arti- \n/ cles ? What guarantee have we that he will be content to \ndo so ? In withholding the Scriptures from the people, and \nshutting off philosophy entirely from the things that belong \nto faith, the Church of Rome occupies a strong and almost \nimpregnable position ; for, if there be no reading there will \nbe no inquiry, and if there be no inquiry there will be no \ndoubt, and if there be no doubt there will be no disbelief. \nBut the union of philosophical inquiry and religious faith is \nnot a natural union of kinds ; and it is difficult to see how \nthe product of it can be much different from the hybrid \nproducts of other unnatural unions of different kinds \xe2\x80\x94 can \nbe other than sterile, when it is not monstrous. \n\n\n\nII\xe2\x80\x94 THE THEORY OF VITALITY.* \n\nIt has been the custom of certain disciples of the so- \ncalled Positive Philosophy to repudiate as extravagant the \nwell-known opinion of Protagoras, that man was the meas- \nure of the universe. If the proposition be understood of \nman as he is known to himself by the revelations of self- \nconsciousness, there is unquestionably great reason for its \nrejection ; but, if it be applied to him as an objective study, \nit is manifest that modern science is tending to prove it by \nno means so absurd as it has been sometimes deemed. Day \nby day, indeed, is it becoming more and more clear that, as \nSir T. Browne has it, man " parallels Nature in the cosmog- \nraphy of himself;" that, in truth, "we are that bold and \nadventurous piece of Nature which he that studies wisely \nlearns in a compendium what others labor at in a divided \npiece and endless volume.\'\' t The u heaven-descended yv&6i \nceavrSp " acquires new value as a maxim inculcating on man \nthe objective study of himself. \n\nThe earliest cultivators of Grecian philosophy \xe2\x80\x94 Thales, \nAnaximenes, and Diogenes of Apollonia \xe2\x80\x94 did seek objec- \ntively for the tyxh or first principle of things common to \nman and the rest of Nature. This primitive kind of induc- \ntion was soon, however, abandoned for the easier and speed- \nier deduction from the subjective facts of consciousness ; so \nthat, as the German philosopher is said to have done with \n\n* British and Foreign Medico- Chir. Bevieiu, No. 64, 1863. \nt Religio Medici. \n\n\n\nTHE THEORY OF VITALITY. 121 \n\nthe elephant, man constructed the laws of an external world \nout of the depths of his own consciousness. Because an in- \ndividual was conscious of certain passions which influenced \nhis conduct, he fancied that natural bodies were affected in \ntheir relations to one another by like passions. Hence the \nphenomena of Nature were explained by sympathies, antip- \nathies, loves, discords : oil had an antipathy to water ; \nNature abhorred a vacuum ; Love was the creative force \nwhich produced development and harmony ; Hate, the de- \nstructive force which produced disorder and discord. The \nmethod was only a phase of the anthropomorphism by which \nthe Dryad was placed in the tree, the Naiad in the fountain, \nand the gods of mankind were created by man. \n\nThe result of such a method was inevitable. "When in a \nlanguage there is but one word for two or three different \nmeanings, as happens in all languages before the cultivation \nof science \xe2\x80\x94 when, for example, the loadstone is said to attract \niron, the earth to attract heavy bodies, the plant to attract \nmoisture, and one mind to attract another, without further \ndifferentiation \xe2\x80\x94 there necessarily is an ambiguity about \nwords; disputes thereupon arise, and the unavoidable issue \nis sophistry and sophists. That was a result which the in- \ngenious and active mind of Greece soon reached. In scien- \ntific nomenclature it is constantly becoming necessary to dis- \ncard words which are in common use, because of their vague- \nness and want of precision; for as it is with life objectively, \nand as it is with cognition or life subjectively, so must it be \nwith the language in which the phenomena are expressed. \nA scientific nomenclature must rightly present a progress \nfrom the general to the special, must reflect in its increasing \nspecialization the increased specialization of human adapta- \ntion to external Nature. As might be expected, Plato and \nAristotle both recognized the evil in Greece, and both tried \nto check it. The metaphysics, analytics, etc., of the latter \nhave been described as a dictionary of general terms, " the \nprocess throughout being first to discover and establish defi- \n6 \n\n\n\n122 THE THEORY \n\nnite meanings, and then to appropriate to each a several \nword." * But it is in vain to attempt to establish words ex- \ncept as living outgrowths of actual facts in Nature. The \nmethod was a mistaken one ; there was not an intending of \nthe mind to the realities of external Nature, and knowledge \nwas barren, wanting those "fruits and invented works" \nwhich Bacon pronounces to be, as it were, " sponsors and \nsureties for the truth of philosophy." \n\nMuch the same thing happened in the earlier part of the \nMiddle Ages. The mysticism and sophistry which then pre- \nvailed, the endless and unprofitable but learned and ingenious \ndisputes concerning empty propositions and words which had \nno definite meanings, might be said to represent the wasted \nefforts and unavailing strength of a blind giant. But as the \ninfant, moved by an internal impulse, at first strives uncon- \nsciously for its mother\'s breast and draws its nourishment \ntherefrom, gradually awakening thereby to a consciousness \nof the mother who supplies it, so the human mind for a time \ngathered unconsciously the material of its knowledge from \nNature, until it was gradually awakened to a full conscious- \nness of the fruitful bosom which was supplying it. The al- \nchemist, moved by his avarice and the instinct of a unity in \nNature, and the astrologer, moved by the feeling of a destiny \ngoverning human actions, both lighted on treasures which, \nthough not then appreciated, were yet not lost ; for of astrol- \nogy came astronomy, and from alchemy, in the fulness of \ntime, was born chemistry. In Eoger Bacon, who successfully \ninterrogated Nature in the spirit of the inductive method, we \n\n* Coleridge\'s Literary Correspondence. It is for this attempt, praise- \nworthy surely as far as it went, that Bacon is unduly severe upon Aristotle \nin some parts. Thus : " And herein I cannot a little marvel at the philoso- \npher Aristotle that did proceed in such a spirit of difference and contradic- \ntion toward all antiquity, undertaking not only to form new words of sci- \nence at pleasure, but to confound and extinguish all ancient wisdom." (De \nAugmentis Scientiarum.) And again: " Aristotle, as though he had been \nof the race of the Ottomans, thought he could not reign except the first thing \nhe did he killed all his brethren." (Ibid.) \n\n\n\nOF VITALITY. 123 \n\nsee the human mind instinctively and, as it were, uncon- \nsciously striving after the true source of knowledge ; while in \nthe Chancellor Bacon, who established the principles and \nsystematized the rules of the inductive philosophy, we see \nit awakened to a clear apprehension of the necessity of doing \nwith design and method that which in an imperfect manner \nit had for some time been blindly aiming at. But as it is \nwith the infant, so it is with humanity : action preceded con- \nsciousness, and Bacon was the efflux of a spirit which pre- \nvailed, and not the creator of it. \n\nThe method of investigation has accordingly been com- \npletely reversed. Instead of beginning with himself and \npassing thence to external Nature, man begins with Nature \nand ends with himself; he is the complex to which his in- \nvestigations ascend step by step through progressively in- \ncreasing complications of the simple. Not only so, but the \nnecessity of studying himself objectively is fully recognized ; \nit is not the subjective feeling of heat or cold in a feverish \npatient, but the figure at which the thermometer stands, that \nis now appealed to as the trustworthy index of the real tem- \nperature. The development of the senses, or, in other words, \nthe increased specialty of human adaptation to external Na- \nture, has been, as the progress of science proves, the founda- \ntion of intellectual advance ; the understanding has been de- \nveloped through the senses, and has in turn constructed in- \nstruments for extending the action of the senses.* The tele- \nscope has merely been a means for enabling the eye to pene- \ntrate into distant space, and to observe the motions of worlds \nwhich the unaided vision would never have revealed ; by the \nmicroscope the minute structure of tissues and the history of \n\n* A great desideratum is a history of such development of the senses : \n" Wir besitzen gar treffliche Werke tiber die Geschichte von Schlachten \nund Staatsformen, genaue Tagebiicher von Kdnigen und fleissige Verzeich- \nnisse von den SchOpfungen der Dichter. Aber den wichtigsten Beitrag zu \neiner Bildungsgeschichte des Menschen in der eingreifendsten Bedeutung \ndes Wortes hat noch Niemand geliefert. Uns fehlt eine Entwickelungs- \ngeschichte der Sinne."\xe2\x80\x94 Moleschott, Kreislauf des Lebens. \n\n\n\n124 THE THEORY \n\nthe little world of the organic cell have been made known ; \nthe balance has demonstrated the indestructibility of matter, \nand has supplied to science the exactness of the numerical \nmethod ; and, in the electric stream, there has been found a \nmeans of investigating nerve-action, like that which there is \nin polarized light for ascertaining the internal condition of \ncrystallized bodies. Who would have ventured to predict \nsome time since that it would ever be possible to measure \nthe speed at which an impulse of the will travels along the \nnerves ? * And who will venture to say that it will not at a \nfuture time be possible to measure the velocity with which \none idea calls up another in the brain ? Biology must plainly \nof necessity be the last and most difficult study, for it pre- \nsupposes the other sciences as vital force supposes inferior \nforces ; but it is the evident tendency of advancing knowl- \nedge to bring life more and more within the compass of sci- \nentific investigation. And if it be sometimes made a reproach \nto science, as it was by Comte, that it has not discovered the \nlaws of life, it may well rest calm under the censure, point- \n\n* Such an eminent physiologist as Mtiller could venture to predict the \nimpossibility thereof. In his Physiology he says : " Wir werden auch wohl \nnie die Mittel gewinnen die Geschwindigkeit der Nervenwirkung zu ermit- \nteln da uus die Vergleich ungeheurer Entfernung feint aus der die Schnel- \nligkeit einer dem Nerven in dieser Hinsicht analogen Wirkung des Licht \nberechnet werden kann." With which compare Helmholtz: "Ueber die \nMethoden kleinste Zeittheilchen zu messen," etc. 1850. \n\nAs long as physiologists considered it necessary to refer the operations \nof the nerves to the extension of an imponderable or psychical principle, it \nmight well appear incredible that the rapidity of the stream should be \nmeasurable within the limits of the animal body. At present we know, \nfrom the investigations of Du Bois-Reymond on the electro-motor proper- \nties of nerves, that the activity by which the propagation of a stimulus is \naccomplished is closely connected with an altered arrangement of their ma- \nterial molecules\xe2\x80\x94 perhaps even essentially determined by them. Accord- \ningly, the process of conduction in nerves may belong to the series of con- \ntinuous molecular operations of ponderable bodies, in which, for example, \nthe conduction of sound in the air, or the combustion in a tube filled with \nan explosive mixture, is to be reckoned. It is not surprising therefore, " \nhe adds, " that the speed of conduction should be very moderate. 1 \' (Ueber \ndie Methoden, etc.) \n\n\n\nOF VITALITY. 125 \n\ning to the history of the earth to show that Nature, having \ndone all else, required a long period hefore it accomplished \nthe evolution of life. \n\nIn spite, then, of a desire on the part of some persons to \nseparate biology from the other sciences, and, notwithstand- \ning the alarm occasionally displayed with regard to the dig- \nnity of vitality, it is the certain tendency of advancing \nknowledge to bring a science of life into close and indissolu- \nble relations with other sciences, and thus to establish in \ncognition, or to reflect in consciousness, the unity which \nexists in Nature. When, in ancient times, life was assigned \nto the stars, the air, the water, a sort of unity was recog- \nnized, but recognized only by explaining Nature from a very \nimperfect knowledge of man ; now the task is to explain man \non the basis of an increasing knowledge of Nature, and in \nthat way to demonstrate the unity of the whole. What must \nbe the result? Nothing less, indeed, than the reconciliation \nof the ideal and the real, the identification of subjective and \nobjective. As life is a condition in which an intimate corre- \nlation exists between the individual and Nature, it is evident \nthat, while Plato dealt only with ideas of the mind, his sys- \ntem must remain comparatively unprofitable ; but it is evi- \ndent also that, since we have learned to discover the laws or \nideas in Nature of which ideas in the mind are correlates, it \nbecomes possible to find in Nature an interpretation of \nPlato\'s true ideas.* Once for all, it may perhaps be taken \nfor granted that the ideas of genius never can be meaningless ; \nfor its mental life is a reflection in consciousness of the un- \nconscious life of Nature. How excellently has this been ex- \nemplified in him who embodied in poetical form the scientific \nspirit of this age ! It was the great characteristic of Goethe, \n\n* " Bat it is manifest that Plato, in his opinion of ideas as one that had \na wit of elevation situate as upon a cliff, did descry \' that forms were the \ntrue object of knowledge,\' but lost the real fruit of his opinion by consider- \ning of forms as absolutely abstracted from matter, and not confined and de- \ntermined by matter ; and so turning his opinion on theology, wherewith all \nhis natural philosophy is infected. "\xe2\x80\x94jDe Aug. Sclent. \n\n\n\n126 \xe2\x96\xa0 THE THEORY \n\nas Lavater justly said of him, to give a poetical form to the \nreal ; lie proved, in fact, that science, in place of rendering \npoetry impossible, opened a field for the highest poetry. His \nromance of the Elective Affinities (Wahlverwandschaften) \nstarts from the chemical affinities of elements, and applies \nsuch affinities to human beings, therein exactly reversing the \nold method, which, starting from the phenomena of self-con- \nsciousness, applied the passions of the human mind to the \nphenomena of external Mature. Of Goethe it may be justly \nsaid, that in him the ideal and the real were happily blended ; \nthat he embodied the scientific spirit of the age, and yet was \nin some respects an advance upon it ; that he was a prophecy \nof that which must be a course of development of the human \nmind if it be destined to develop. \n\nThe foregoing general sketch of the course and tendency \nof knowledge is fully justified by the present aspect of sci- \nence. "When Nature was first examined objectively the dif- \nferences in matter appeared manifold, and its modes of energy \nor activity \xe2\x80\x94 that is, its forces \xe2\x80\x94 appeared many also. On a \nmore careful use of the senses, however \xe2\x80\x94 in fact, by the ap- \nplication of the delicate balance to the products of combus- \ntion \xe2\x80\x94 it became evident that one form of matter only disap- \npeared to reappear in another form ; that it never perished, \nbut only changed. Elementary matter thus passes upward \ninto chemical and organic compounds, and then downward \nfrom organic to chemical, and from chemical compounds to \nits elementary condition. Out of dust man is formed by an \nupward transformation of matter, and to dust he returns by \na retrograde metamorphosis thereof. Corresponding with \nthe changes in the form of matter are changes in its modes \nof energy or its forces ; to different combinations and ar- \nrangements of molecules correspond different modes of en- \nergy. Force therefore is eternal, like matter, and passes \nthrough a corresponding cycle of transformations. The cor- \nrelation and conservation of forces, which have always been \nmore or less clearly recognized as necessities of human \n\n\n\nOF VITALITY. 127 \n\nthought, are now accepted as scientific axioms, and are daily \nreceiving experimental demonstration.* \n\nThough it may seem difficult to avoid the conclusion that \nthere is fundamentally but one natural force which manifests \nitself under different modes, yet such a supposition at present \ntranscends the domain of science. As a matter of fact we are \ncompelled, in order to form a satisfactory conception of mat- \nter and its forces, to regard it under a twofold aspect. In \nall our conceptions we imply a sort of dualism of power in \nevery body, though we are very apt to forget it in our gen- \neralizations. The hinges of gravitation, for example, keep \nworlds in their orbits by opposing a centrifugal force which \nwould otherwise drive them afloat into space. The smaller \nhinges of molecular cohesion hold together the infinitely \nsmaller bodies which we call molecules of matter, in opposi- \ntion to a repulsive force, which, on the application of a little \nheat, may drive them off into space, and in volatile sub- \nstances does so drive them off without heat. It is the same \nwith liquids ; their diffusion power is similar in character to \nthe volatility of solids; while "colloids " are volatile, " crys- \ntalloids " are comparatively "fixed." There is a relation of \nmolecules to one another which we are compelled to repre- \nsent in conception as the result of a force of repulsion or \ntension. And as some sensible image is necessary for the \nmind in order to the clearness of a conception of the invisi- \nble, physics assumes between the ponderable molecules of a \nbody certain ethereal particles which are in a state of sta- \n\n* Epicurus, Democritus, Aristotle, all upheld the eternity of matter; \nthe quotations from Lucretius and Persius on that subject are well known, \nbut the following passage from the Be Augmentis is not so common : " All \nthings change, but nothing is lost. This is an axiom in physics, and holds \nin natural theology; for as the sum of matter neither diminishes nor in- \ncreases, so it is equally the work of Omnipotence to create or to annihilate." \nOther passages of like import occur in Bacon\'s writings. And the Bra- \nminical doctrine is as follows : "The ignorant assert that the universe in \nthe beginning did not exist in its author, and that it was created out of \nnothing. O ye, whose hearts are pure, how could something come out of \nnothing ?" \n\n\n\n128 THE THEORY \n\ntionary oscillation, the degree of temperature of the body \nbeing supposed to depend upon the intensity of the active \nforce of these imponderable intermolecular particles. If the \nbody be suddenly and greatly compressed, these motions are \ncommunicated to the imponderable ether outside the body, \nand tension force thus becomes free force in manifest radia- \ntion of heat. " What is heat in us," very justly said Locke, \n" is in the heated body nothing but motion.\'\' When heat is \nwithdrawn from matter \xe2\x80\x94 that is, when the tension force be- \ncomes free, its molecules get nearer to one another \xe2\x80\x94 their \ncohesion is greater ; thus vapors become liquids and liquids \nbecome solids. \n\nIt seems probable that the necessity of regarding matter \nunder this twofold aspect of attraction and repulsion is owing \nto man\'s inability, as being himself a part of Nature, to form \na conception of Nature as a whole. He must necessarily re- \ngard things in relation to himself ; for as he exists only in \nrelation to Nature, and as every phase of consciousness is an \nexpression of this relation, it is plain that one of the elements \nof the relation cannot free itself, and from an independent \npoint of view watch unconcernedly things as they really are. \nThus, though we speak of passivity and activity, they are \nreally not different kinds of action, but different relations of \nthe same kind of action. Whatever be the cause, and how- \never doubtful the philosophical validity of the distinction, \nwe are compelled to regard matter in this twofold relation. \nOne aspect of the relation we describe as passive, statical, \ncohesion, or, to use the generic term, attraction; the other \nis active, dynamical, tension, or, to use the generic term, re- \npulsion. Attraction plus repulsion of molecules constitutes \nour conception of matter ; and, in observation of its modes \nof energy, attraction is recognized in gravitation, cohesion, \nmagnetism, affinity, love, while repulsion is found in the cen- \ntrifugal force, in heat, in electricity, in antipathy, and hate. \n\nIt is in rising to the department of chemical compounds \nthat attraction is found under a new and special phase as \n\n\n\nOF VITALITY. 129 \n\nchemical affinity. But, when the chemical union of two mol- \necules into a single one takes place, a diminution of the ten- \nsion force surrounding each molecule must occur, and, accord- \ning to the law of the conservation of force, an equivalent of \nanother force must be set free. This happens in the produc- \ntion of heat and electricity ; for, as Faraday has shown, \nchemical action cannot take place without the development \nof electricity. The amount of force liberated in a simple \nchemical combination will be the equivalent of the tension \nforce lost. When one atom of carbon combines with one atom \nof oxygen, a definite quantity of tension force surrounding each \nmolecule disappears, and a definite quantity of heat is accord- \ningly produced. When two molecules separate in chemical de- \ncomposition, they necessarily make passive or latent so much \nactive force; so much heat becomes so much tension force. \nBut furthermore, in a chemical decomposition we have the \nresolution of that very intense and special force, chemical \naffinity itself; so that the force set free will, one would sup- \npose, far exceed that which becomes latent as tension force \naround the molecules. We know not why two molecules \nshould chemically combine ; we accept as a fundamental law \nof their nature this high, special, and powerful form of at- \ntraction; but we do know that, when chemical decomposition \ntakes place, a little chemical force must be resolved into \na large display of inferior force. It is a fact authenticated \nby Faraday, that one drop of water contains, and may be \nmade to evolve, as much electricity as under different modes \nof display would suffice to produce a lightning-flash. The \ndecomposition of matter is the resolution of force, and in \nsuch resolution one equivalent of chemical force will corre- \nspond to several equivalents of inferior force. Thus chemical \nforce, though correlated with the physical forces, may be \nsaid to be of a much higher order than they are. \n\nIn the still higher stage of matter in a state of vitality, \nwe meet with chemical combination of a much more complex \ncharacter than occurs in inorganic matter ; attraction appears \n\n\n\n130 THE THEORY \n\nunder its most special and complex form. Matter, which in \nits elementary condition might occupy some space, is so \nblended or combined as to occupy a minimum 01 space ; and \nforce, which, under a lower mode, might suffice perhaps to \nilluminate the heavens, is here confined within the small \ncompass of an organic cell or of a speck of protoplasm. We \nhave to do, however, with organic matter under two forms \xe2\x80\x94 \nas dead and as living matter, as displaying energy of its own, \nor as displaying no energy. Dead organic matter has ceased \nto act, and it is now acted upon ; it is at the mercy of the \nforces which surround it, and immediately begin to effect its \ndissolution. Heat hastens decomposition, because in the \nseparation of the constituents of organic matter into the \nultimate inorganic products \xe2\x80\x94 carbonic acid, ammonia, and \nwater \xe2\x80\x94 a certain amount of active force must become latent \nas the tension force of these molecules ; and this force the \nheat supplies. There is also the force of the chemical affinity \nof the oxygen of the air for the oxidizable elements of the \nsubstance ; and the combination is necessarily attended with \nthe production of heat. The heating value of organic matter \nwill accordingly increase with the quantity of oxidizable ele- \nments; but the matter is by no means so simple as it might \nat first sight appear to be. Suppose the atom of carbon with \nwhich an atom of oxygen combines was previously in com- \nbination with, for example, an atom of hydrogen; and the \nquestion is, whether the amount of heat produced will be the \nsame as though the atom of carbon had been free ? In reality \nit will not ; it must be less, because in the separation of the \ncarbon atom and the hydrogen atom so much active force \nmust become tension force \xe2\x80\x94 that is, so much heat must dis- \nappear or become latent; and that loss of heat will neces- \nsarily counterbalance a part of the heat produced, or the \ndecrease of tension force which occurs, through the combi- \nnation of the atom of carbon with the atom of oxygen. It is \nthis consideration which appears to invalidate some experi- \nments made and conclusions come to with regard to animal \nheat. \n\n\n\nOF VITALITY. 131 \n\nBut there is another consideration. In this mere burning \nor decomposition of organic matter, or that which represents \nthe passive, statical, or attractive phase of vitality, the active \nforce which results is due partly to force from without, and \nnot solely to the liberation of force latent in the matter. Ex- \nternal forces have, as it were, been pulling it to pieces. \nWhat, then, cm the principle of the conservation of force, \nbecomes of that intense chemical force which is implied in \nthe organic nature of the material, that power which holds \nit together as & specific material differing in properties from \nall kinds of inorganic matter ? Though dead, the chemical \ncomposition of organic substance is the same as when alive ; \nand its future destiny is entirely dependent on the circum- \nstances in which it may be placed. In the air, it is true, it \nwill undergo decomposition into inorganic products ; but, if \nit be surrounded with the conditions of life, if it be exposed \nto the influence of higher forces, by being given as food to \nsome animal, it does not go downward, but upward, and \nsomehow takes on life again. It is plain what becomes of \nthe statical force under the latter circumstances. But, in the \ndecomposition of organic matter in the air and the correlative \nresolution of force, it is not so evident what becomes of all \nthe force which must be liberated. That it returns to general \nNature can admit of no doubt; but does it all appear as heat? \nA part of it must necessarily do so, becoming latent as the \ntension force of the molecules of the ultimate products of its \ndecomposition, and the rest is liberated under some form or \nother, if not entirely as heat. There is some reason to believe, \nhowever, that dead organic substance does not always un- \ndergo the extreme retrograde metamorphosis of material and \nof force before being used up again in vital compounds, even \nby the vegetable kingdom. It has been shown that not only \ndo pale plants, such as fungi, feed on organic matter, but \nthat soluble humus is regularly taken up by the roots of al- \nmost all plants. Prof. Le Oonte has shown it to be probable \nthat the decomposition of the organic matter supplies the \n\n\n\n132 THE THEORY \n\nforce necessary for raising other matter from a lower to a \nhigher stage.* The force necessary for organization is thus \nfurnished by the force which results from disorganization ; \ndeath and destruction are the conditions of life and devel- \nopment. \n\nWhen organic matter displays energy \xe2\x80\x94 that is, when it \nhas life \xe2\x80\x94 its relations with its surroundings are different. As \nchemical affinity seems to hold the place of attraction in it, \nand to correspond to gravitation among celestial bodies, \ncohesive force among molecules, and magnetic force among \npolar molecules, so its dynamical or vital action seems to cor- \nrespond to the force of repulsion, to the centrifugal force of \nheavenly bodies, the tension force of molecules, and electrical \nrepulsion. The display of energy coincides with a molecular \nchange in the statical element. "With the function of a gan- \nglionic nerve-cell, for example, a correlative molecular change, \nor "waste," as it is called, necessarily takes place either in \nthe nerve-element itself or in what is supplied to it from the \nblood. The substances which are met with in the so-called \nextractives of nerve-tissue afford abundant evidence of a ma- \nterial waste ; for as products of the retrograde metamorphosis \nare found lactic acid in considerable quantities, kreatin, uric \nacid, probably also hypoxanthin, and, representing the fatty \nacids, formic and acetic acid.t And what Du Bois-Keymond \nproved to happen in muscle, Funke has observed to happen \nalso with nerve : while the contents of nerve-tubes are neutral \nduring rest in the living state, they become acid after death, \nand also after great activity during life. After excessive \nmental exercise, it is well known that phosphates appear in \n\n* The Correlation of Physical, Chemical, and Yital Force, and the Con- \nservation of Force in Vital Phenomena. By J. Le Conte, Professor of Ge- \nology and Chemistry in South Carolina College. (American (Journal of \nScience and Arts, No. 28, 1859.) \n\nt It is interesting to remark how the products of chemical transformation \nresulting from nerve-action agree with the products of decomposition after \nmuscular activity, and how the results coincide with what, a priori, might \nhave been expected from the great vital activity of nerve-structure. \n\n\n\nOF VITALITY. 133 \n\nthe urine in considerable quantities ; and it is only by sup- \nposing an idea to be accompanied by a correlative change in \nthe nerve-cells that we can explain the bodily exhaustion \nwhich is produced by mental labor, and the breaking down \nof the brain under prolonged intellectual efforts. There is \neven at times a sensation of something going on in the brain ; \nand, in insanity, such anomalous feelings are sometimes per- \nsistently complained of. But the change or waste which \naccompanies energy is restored by nutrition during rest, and \nthe conditions of future energy are thus established ; nutritive \nattraction steadily repairing the waste of centrifugal function. \nThe cell thus, for a time at least, preserves its individuality ; \nand definiteness of energy, with the maintenance of individ- \nuality, is what is connoted by vitality. \n\nIs the energy displayed by living matter something quite \nspecial ? In attempting to answer that question, two consid- \nerations should be kept in view. In the first place, an effect \nneed not at all resemble in properties its cause ; the qualities \nof a chemical compound are quite different from those of its \nconstituents. Such a complex compound as organic matter \nreally is may be expected, therefore, to exhibit peculiar prop- \nerties in no way resembling those of its constituent elements \nor those of simple compounds. In the second place, the ar- \nrangement or grouping of the molecules in a substance, inde- \npendently of its chemical composition, may greatly alter its \nproperties : there is a molecular as well as a chemical consti- \ntution of matter. In that condition of bodies which is de- \nscribed as Isomerism, there are atoms alike in number, nature, \nand relative proportion, so grouped as somehow to produce \ncompounds having very different chemical properties. Again, \nit has been found that the same matter may exist under two \nvery different conditions, and with very different properties\xe2\x80\x94 \nas colloidal and as crystalloidal, in a gelatinous or in a crys- \ntalline state. And what is the chief difference ? It is that \nthe colloidal is a dynamical state of matter, the crystalloidal \na statical state. The colloid exhibits energy ; its existence is \n\n\n\n134 THE THEORY \n\na continued metastasis ; and it may be looked upon, says \nGraham, " as the probable primary source of the force ap- \npearing in the phenomena of vitality." The distinction be- \ntween the two kinds of matter is, in fact, " that subsisting \nbetween the material of a mineral and the material of an \norganized mass." And yet minerals may exist in the colloidal \nstate ; the hydrated peroxides of the aluminous class, for ex- \nample, are colloids. Furthermore, the mineral forms of silicic \nacid deposited from water, such as flint, are found to have \npassed during the geological ages from the colloidal into the \ncrystalline condition ; and, on the other hand, in the so-called \nblood-crystals of Funke, a soft and gelatinous albuminoid is \nseen to assume a crystalline contour. " Can any facts," asks \nGraham, " more strikingly illustrate the maxim, that in Na- \nture there are no abrupt transitions, and that distinctions of \nclass are never absolute ? " * \n\nThe foregoing considerations render it evident that the \nmanifestation of organic energy by matter is not a contrast to \nthe kind of energy which is displayed by inorganic matter, \nand so far justify the supposition that it may be a question \nof chemical composition and intimate molecular constitution. \nVitality would not then be a special principle, but a result, and \nwould be explained ultimately by the operation of the so-called \nmolecular forces. Coleridge\'s assertion, that the division of \nsubstances into living and dead, though psychologically ne- \ncessary, was of doubtful philosophical validity, would receive \na support which its author could scarce have expected for it. \n\nBefore granting any conclusion, it is desirable to examine \ninto that which is generally deemed to constitute the spe- \n\n* A further characteristic of colloids is their singular inertness in all \nordinary chemical relations, though they have a compensating activity of \ntheir own in their penetrability ; they are permeable when in mass, as water \nis, by the more highly diffusive class of substances, but they cut off entirely \nother colloidal substances that may be in solution. It is evident that our \nconception of solid matter must soon undergo considerable modification. \n(On Liquid Diffusion applied to Analysis. By T. Graham, F. R. S. Philo- \nsophical Transactions, 1882.) \n\n\n\nOF VITALITY. 135 \n\n* \n\ncialty of life. Now, it is certain, when we consider the vast \nrange of vitality from the simple life of a molecule or cell to \nthe complex life of man, that valid objections may be made \nto any definition of life. If it be wide enough to comprise \nall forms, it will be too vague to have any value ; if narrow \nenough to be exact, it will exclude the most lowly forms. \nThe problem is to investigate the conditions of the manifesta- \ntion of life. A great fault in many attempted definitions has \nbeen the description of life as a resistance or complete con- \ntrast to the rest of Nature, which was supposed to be con- \ntinually striving to destroy it. But the elements of organic \nmatter are not diiferent from those of inorganic, whence they \nare derived, and to which they return ; and the chemical and \nmechanical forces of these elements cannot be suspended or \nremoved within the organism. What is special is the manner \nof composition of the elements : there is a concurrence of \nmanifold substances, and they are combined or grouped to- \ngether in a very complex way. Such union or grouping is, \nhowever, only a further advance upon, and by no means a \ncontrast to, the kind of combination which is met with in in- \norganic bodies. Life is not a contrast to non-living Nature, \nbut a further development of it. The more knowledge ad- \nvances, the more plainly is it shown that there are physical \nand chemical processes upon which life depends. Heat is \nproduced by combustion in the organism as it is in the fire ; \nstarch is converted into sugar there, as it is in the chemical \nlaboratory ; urea, which is so constant a product of the body\'s \nchemistry, can be formed artificially by the chemist ; and \nthe process of excitation in a nerve, on the closure of a con- \nstant stream, appears to be analogous to the process of elec- \ntrolysis in which hydrogen is given off at the negative pole.* \nThe peculiarity of life is the complexity of combination in so \nsmall a space, the intimate operation of many simultaneously - \nacting forces in the microcosm of the organic cell. Knowl- \n\n* A. von Bezold : TJntersuchungen fiber die electrische Erregung der \nNerven und Muskeln. Leipzig, 1861. \n\n\n\n136 THE THEORY \n\nedge cannot pass the life-boundary, because there are not \nat present any means of following the intimate changes which \ntake place beyond it ; there is a world there into which the \nsenses of man cannot yet enter. But, as each great advance \nof science has followed some invention by which the opera- \ntion of the senses has been extended, there can be little \ndoubt that the important step toward a true science of life \nwill be made with the discovery of a means of tracing the \ndelicate processes of protoplasmic activity. Microscopic phys- \nics and microscopic chemistry, nay, physics and chemistry \nof a delicacy beyond the reach of the powers of the highest \nmicroscope, are needed. So that it may well be that this gen- \neration and generations to come will have passed to their \neverlasting rest before a discovery of the secret of vital ac- \ntivity is made. \n\nBefore dealing with that which is considered to mark a \nsecond and great peculiarity of life, namely, its aim or plan, \nit will be well to illustrate the foregoing remarks from the \nphenomena of conscious vitality. It is, in truth, with the low- \nest form of vitality as it is with the lowest form of conscious \nvitality \xe2\x80\x94 with the human mind in the earliest stages of its evo- \nlution. A self-conservative impulse moves the most barbarous \npeople to regard the operation of the external forces of Nature, \nand to adopt rude means to preserve life and to obtain comfort ; \nthe savage avoids the current which would drive his frail ca- \nnoe on the hungry breakers, and shelters his hut from the over- \nwhelming fury of the storm ; he may be said to war with Na- \nture for the maintenance of individual power, as the vital \nforce of a cell may be said to war with the nature that imme- \ndiately surrounds it. But it is obvious that man only struggles \nsuccessfully with the physical forces by recognizing the laws \nof their action, and by accommodating his individual forces to \nphysical laws ; it is victory by obedience. By conscious obedi- \nence to the physical law, he appropriates, as it were, the force \nthereof, in the increase of his own power ; the idea is devel- \noped in his mind as the correlate of the law or idea in Na- \n\n\n\nOF VITALITY. 137 \n\nture ; in his mental progress Nature is undergoing develop- \nment through him. By keeping in mind this analogy of the \nmental force the difficulty will be obviated, which there might \nseem to be in conceiving the organic cell as a result of physi- \ncal and chemical forces, and yet as resisting the action of \nthese forces. Every act of so-called resistance on the part \nof the cell to the natural forces is really a phenomenon indi- \ncating the development of them; its life is not a contrast to \nnon-living Nature, but a further complication of it. The fun- \ndamental law of life is the same for its conscious and uncon- \nscious manifestations ; it is individuation by appropriation. \nAnd, however necessary it may seem to the individual, as a \npart of a whole looking at the rest, to represent the vital as \nin constant antagonism to the physical, such a conception \ndoes not faithfully express the condition of the whole regard- \ned as a whole. A just conception of Nature as one harmoni- \nous whole is plainly not antagonistic to the spirit of any in- \nvestigations which may tend to prove the dependence of life \non physical and chemical processes. \n\nThat which is commonly said to constitute the specialty of \nlife is the maintenance of a certain definite plan ; and accord- \ningly Coleridge, following Schelling, defined life as u the \nprinciple of individuation." Given the different kinds of \nforce and of matter, and how, it is asked, is the pattern de- \ntermined and worked out? As every individual is in life \nweaving out some pattern " on the roaring loom of time," \nthough " what he weaves no weaver knows," so the lowest \nform of vitality manifests a definite energy, and is said to \naccomplish a definite plan. A crystal would go on increasing \nif suitable materials and the conditions of its growth were \npresent, " but it has been provided that trees do not grow up \ninto heaven." Life works according to an aim, said Aristotle. \nAdmitting all this, we are not therefore called upon to admit \na special contrast to the rest of Nature. Liebig compares the \nliving body to a building which is constructed after a definite, \npreordained plan; but it is obvious that exactly in the same \n\n\n\n138 THE THEORY. \n\nsense might the positive biologist say of the chemical atom, \nthat it is constructed and displays energy according to a pre- \nordained plan; or even of the crystal, that it works out a \ncertain pattern, seeing that it cannot overstep the laws of \nits form. The plan is the law of the matter, and the law is not \nsomething outside the matter, but it is inherent in it. Organic \nmatter, like the chemical element, has an activity given to it- \nself which it must display ; the law of causality is true of it \nas of inorganic matter ; and the organic effect, the so-called \naccomplishment of the plan, is the necessary result of a cer- \ntain molecular constitution and certain intimate combinations \nwhich exist in the organic molecule or cell or monad, or \nwhatever else we choose to name the ultimate unit of life. \n\nThe direct denial of a special vital force has been the \nnatural reaction against that dogmatism which assumed a vital \nprinciple that was self-generating, did any thing it liked, and \nwas not amenable to investigation. That any force should \nbe self-generating in inexhaustible quantity is really an in- \nconceivable supposition. If the axiom, that force, like matter, \nis not capable of annihilation, be accepted, and we find, as \nwe do, that organic bodies incorporate, or somehow cause to \ndisappear, inorganic matter and force, and thereby themselves \nincrease, it is an unavoidable conclusion that the organic \nmatter and force must represent the converted inorganic \nmatter and force. To suppose that the vital force was self- \nproduced would be to suppose a disturbance of the equilib- \nrium of Nature, and it might not then be unreasonable to \nfear lest the earth, by the increase of its repulsion force, \nshould break through the hinges of gravitation and float off \ninto space, or burst into fragments, as a planet between Mars \nand Jupiter is supposed at one time to have done.* \n\n* Science, in its view of life, seems to be following the course of develop- \nment in Humboldt\'s mind. In his earlier writings he denned vital force as \nthe unknown cause which prevents the elements from following their origi- \nnal attractive forces. (Aphorism, ex doct. Phys. Chem.Plant.) " Reflection \nand prolonged study," he says, in his "Aspects of Nature, 1 \' "in the depart- \nments of physiology and chemistry, have deeply shaken my earlier belief in \n\n\n\nOF VITALITY. 139 \n\nWhen, however, it is said that a minute portion of living \nmatter converts inorganic matter into its own nature, and \nthus develops new organic matter which has the power of \ndoing likewise, it is evident that a great and peculiar poten- \ntiality is assumed in the living molecule. "What power is it \nwhich transforms the matter and force ? Some who have ad- \nvocated the correlation of the vital force with the physical \nforces seem not to have given due attention to this question ; \nthey have laid such great stress on the external force as to \nhave fallen into an error almost as great as, though the oppo- \nsite of, that of the advocates of a self-generating vital force. \nExternal circumstances are the necessary conditions of in- \nward activity, but the inward fact is the important condition \n\xe2\x80\x94 it is the determining condition, and, so far as we know \nyet, it can only be derived from a like living mother struct- \nure. Nevertheless, even in that inherited potentiality there \nis not a contrast to that which happens in the rest of Nature. \nWhen heat is converted into electricity, or any force into \nanother, the change is not self-determined ; the determining \nforce lies in the molecules of the matter, in the so-called \nstatical force, that which Aristotle in his division of causes \nnames the material cause. And if it be< objected that a little \nlife is able to do such a great deal, the answer is that a like \nthing happens in fermentation. When a certain organic sub- \nstance makes the inorganic matter in contact with it become \norganic, it may be that it does so by a kind of infection or \nfermentation by which the molecular relations of its smallest \nparticles are transferred to the particles of the inorganic just \nas in the inorganic world forces pass from matter to matter. \n\nBut there are further considerations. Admitting that the \nvital transforming matter is at first derived from vital struct- \n\npeculiar so-called vital force." And again : " The difficulty of satisfactorily \nreferring the vital phenomena of organism to physical and chemical laws \ndepends chiefly (and almost in the same manner as the prediction of mete- \norological processes in the atmosphere) on the complication of the phenom- \nena, and on the great number of the simultaneously- acting forces, as well as \nthe conditions of their activity. 1 \' \n\n\n\n140 THE THEORY \n\nure, it is evident that the external force and matter trans- \nformed does in turn become transforming force \xe2\x80\x94 that is, vital. \nAnd if that takes place after the vital process lias once com- \nmenced, is it, it may be asked, extravagant to suppose that a \nsimilar transformation might at some period have commenced \nthe process, and may even now be doing so ? The fact that in \ngrowth and development life is continually increasing, from a \ntransformation of physical and chemical forces, is after all in \nfavor of the presumption that it may at first have so origi- \nnated. And the advocate of this view may turn upon his \nopponent, and demand of him how he, with a due regard to \nthe axiom that force is not self-generating, and to the fact \nthat living matter does increase from the. size of a little cell \nto the magnitude of a human body, accounts for the continual \nproduction of transforming power? A definite quantity only \ncould have been derived from the mother structure, and that \nmust have been exhausted at an early period of growth. The \nobvious refuge of the vitalist is to the facts that it is impossi- \nble now to evolve life artificially out of any combination of \nphysical and chemical forces, and that such a transformation \nis never witnessed save under the conditions of vitality. \n\nThus the argument stands. Meanwhile, those who do \nbelieve in the origination of life from non-living matter hope \nto succeed in artificially producing the upward transforma- \ntion, and may say reasonably enough that it is not to be ex- \npected that such transformation should now take place as a \nregular process in Nature, except under conditions of vitality. \nSuch a supposition is as unnecessary as it would be to assume \nthat the savage must continue to rub together his sticks, after \nhe has obtained the spark, in order to make the fire burn. \n"What only is necessary is that the spark of fire, or the spark \nof life, once evolved, should be placed under suitable condi- \ntions, and it will then go on increasing. The minutest portion \nof living matter really now contains implicitly, as it were in a \nmicrocosm, the complexity of chemical and physical combina- \ntions and the conditions which were necessary for the first \n\n\n\nOF VITALITY. 141 \n\nproduction of life in the macrocosm, and it supplies these as \nthe conditions of further vital transformations. In fact, Na- \nture, having accomplished a result, does not need on each fu- \nture occasion to go through the preliminary steps hy which \nthe result was first arrived at. And in this relation it is very \ninteresting to observe how much use is made of the force \nsupplied by the destruction of certain organic matter in rais- \ning other matter to a higher stage. It is supposed, for ex- \nample, that urea is partly produced by the oxidation of an \nexcess of so-called albuminous matters in the blood, without \nthese having entered into the formation of tissue ; and the \nforce thus supplied in the retrograde metamorphosis will be \navailable, and probably is used, for the exaltation of other \nelements. \n\nIt needs but little consideration to see that the living cell \ncannot supply all the force which is used in increasing and \nadvancing life \xe2\x80\x94 in the multiplication and transformation of \ncells; heat and other external conditions are necessary, as \nbeing, so to speak, material for transformation. It is a mis- \ntake, however, to say, as some have said, that heat and ex- \nternal conditions determine the rate of growth. The rate of \ngermination, for example, certainly varies according to exter- \nnal conditions, but the limits of variation are fixed by the \ninherent properties of the structure. The seeds of a begonia \ntaken from the same pod will, as Mr. Paget has pointed out, \ngerminate, some in a day, some at the end of a year, and \nsome at various intermediate times, even when they are all \nplaced under the same external conditions. And the same \nauthor has pointed out other indications of self-dependent \ntime-rates in the lower organisms. There are, in fact, inter- \nnal as well as external conditions of growth, and the former \nare the more important, for they are really the determining \nconditions. It is with the organic cell and its conditions as \nit is with the individual and his circumstances ; the latter may \ngreatly modify character, and are necessary for development, \nbut the essential fact, which determines the limit of the modi- \n\n\n\n142 THE THEORY \n\nfying power of circumstances, is the nature implanted in the \nindividual. \n\nIt is easy to perceive how impossible it is, in the present \nstate of science, to come to any positive conclusion with re- \ngard to the nature of the vital force. All that can be said is, \nthat advancing knowledge more and more clearly proves the \ndependence of life on physical and chemical processes, and \ntends to show that vital action does not contrast with the \nkind of action exhibited by inorganic Nature. Living matter \ndisplays, in fact, the energy of colloidal and the plan of crys- \ntalloidal matter. Y/hen vital force undergoes resolution into \ninferior force, simultaneously with the decomposition of sub- \nstance, it is into heat, chemical force, and electricity, that we \nfind it, as it were, unfolded; it is a natural conjecture, there- \nfore, that the conditions of the artificial production of vitality \nmust be a high and complex chemistry to represent the stat- \nical correlative, and some mode of repulsion force, as heat \nor electricity, or both, to represent the dynamical correla- \ntive. It is certainly extremely unphilosophical in the present \ncondition of knowledge to refuse to accept vitality as a \nspecial mode of manifestation of force ; the special character \nof its phenomena demand that, whatever its real nature may \nbe, vital force should for the present be received as a distinct \nforce on the same terms as chemical force or electrical force. \nThe facts of observation, as well as a priori considerations, \nunquestionably demand also that it should be regarded as \nsubject to the laws of the correlation and conservation of \nforce. \n\nAs, then, vital force is plainly by far the highest force in \ndignity, a small quantity of it will correspond in value to a \nmuch greater quantity of an inferior force ; one equivalent \nof vital force, in fact, will correspond to many equivalents \nof the lower forces. An immense amount of force is re- \nquired to raise matter from its elementary state to that con- \ndition in which it is described as organic ; and the upward \ntransformation evidently only takes place through the inter- \n\n\n\nOF VITALITY. 143 \n\nmediate action of chemical force. But vital force surpasses \nchemical force apparently in as great a degree as chemical \nforce surpasses physical force. How great, then, must be its \nmechanical equivalent! Who can measure the power of a \ngreat idea? Armies fight in vain against it, and nations \nyield to its sway. What wonder that life was the last and \nhighest development of Nature, and that it was produced \nonly after the inferior forces had been long in existence ! \nWhat ground, furthermore, it might be asked, have we for \nsupposing that it is destined to be the last development of \nforce ? Is it not possible that a still higher manifestation of \nforce than that which we call vital may ultimately result \nfrom the complexity of forces and conditions which are now \npresent on earth? The hypothesis of Laplace was, that in \nprimeval times a large quantity of nebulous matter was \nspread through space. This nebulous matter was through \ngravitation aggregated into solid masses. Immense heat must \nhave been thus produced, and this heat might then produce \nlight, and develop electricity as it does now when acting on \nthe thermo-electric plates. Electricity might appear again \nas heat or as light, or as chemical force, as it does in the de- \ncomposing cell of a voltaic battery. The correlation of these \nforces we are able to trace now, and it is not difficult to con- \nceive how they mutually excited and affected one another in \nthe primeval times when the earth was, as we are told, \nwithout form and void. But there was a time when no life \nexisted on the earth. So that as we can now obtain one \nforce from another up to the point where life begins, when \nwe are at fault, similarly considerable time elapsed in Nature \nbefore vital force followed on the physical and chemical \nforces. Science may, then, claim that in its difficulty and \ndelay it only reflects a corresponding difficulty in Nature. \n\nBut there are other important considerations with regard \nto vitality. It does not follow, because we recognize a special \nvital manifestation, that there is but one kind thereof; it is in \nreality necessary to admit different degrees, if not different \n\n\n\n144 THE THEORY \n\nkinds, of vitality. As with organic matter so with organic \nforce, we trace an advance from the most simple and general \nto the most complex and special. The tissue of the simple \nprotozoon is uniform and exhibits no trace of structure ; its \nactive relations are equally simple. In the ascending scale \nof life continuous differentiation of tissue corresponds with \nincreasing specialty and complexity of relation with the ex- \nternal, until in man we observe the highest example of a \nunity of organism proceeding from manifold varieties of ele- \nments, and of unity of action from the coordination of many \nforces. And as it is with the animal kingdom, so it is with the \nelementary structures which form it ; there is a scale of dignity, \na hierarchy of tissues ; the lowest appear first, and are neces- \nsary steps for the evolution of the highest. All the force of \nNature could not develop a nerve-cell directly out of inor- \nganic matter; and the cell of the Protococcus nivalis, or the \nmolecules of the Amoeba, could not, under any possible cir- \ncumstances, energize as nerve-force. Between the vitality \nof thought and the vitality of the fungus there is scarcely a \ncomparison possible ; the former is dependent upon the widest \nand most complex, and at the same time the most intense and \nspecial relations with external Nature, while the latter exhibits \nonly a few general and comparatively simple relations there- \nwith. Between the relations of a nerve-cell and an epidermic \ncell with their surroundings, there is as much difference as \nthere is between the relations of a Bhizopod and those of a \nCephalopod with external Nature. And the relations of a \nnerve-cell with its surroundings are, it must be remembered, \ndependent on the maintenance of the relations of all the in- \nferior elements of the body which intervene in the descending \nscale between it and the inorganic. \n\nWhatever, then, may be the fact in animal development, \nit is certain that transformation of species takes place in the \nstructural elements. "When a tissue takes material from the \nblood, it does not merely aggregate, but it assimilates it \xe2\x80\x94 \nthat is, it makes it of the same kind with itself. In develop- \n\n\n\nOF VITALITY. 145 \n\nment, a higher tissue constantly proceeds from a lower one, \nand demands the lower one as a necessary antecedent to its \nproduction ; it has thus, as external conditions, not only \nthose which are general, but the intimate and special influ- \nences of the tissue which is before it in the order of existence. \nIn the latter are supplied the special and essential conditions \nfor the exaltation and transpeciation of force and material. \nBut all exaltation of force is, as it were, a concentration of \nit ; one equivalent of the higher force corresponds to many \nequivalents of the inferior force which has been transformed. \nHence it is that the power of reproducing tissues or parts in \nanimals is diminished much more by development than by \ngrowth ; and the law which describes the reparative power \nin each species of animal as being in an inverse ratio to its \nposition in the scale of life, though not strictly proved, is yet \ntrue as a general proposition. \n\nIf, now, the degree of dignity of an element represents a \ncorresponding degree of vitality, it is obviously right to speak \nof the life of the blood, without any design of placing its life \non the same level with that of nerve. In the decomposition \nof material and the correlative resolution of force which take \nplace w^hen the blood-cell returns to the inorganic state, there \nwill be much less force liberated than when a nerve-cell un- \ndergoes the retrograde metamorphosis. As a great expendi- \nture of force is needed to raise matter from the inorganic to \nthe organic state, so a further greater expenditure is required \nto raise matter from a low organic to its highest organic con- \ndition. The nerve-cell is, so to say, the highest parasite \nwhich thus sucks up the life of the blood ; and, if the process \nof its decomposition were accurately observed, it would be \nfound that all the force which had been consumed by it in its \nupward transformation was given back to Nature in its down- \nward metamorphosis. \n\nThe retrograde metamorphosis of organic elements is con- \nstantly taking place as a part of the history of life. In the \nfunction of nerve-cell, a nerve-force is liberated which excites \n\n\n\n146 THE THEORY \n\nmuscular force, and is ultimately given back to external Na- \nture as motion ; the coincident " waste " of substance is re- \nceived into the blood, and ultimately also passes back to \nNature. It is probable, however, that this a waste " does \nnot pass always directly out of the body, but that it may be \nfirst used as the nutriment of some lower element. Thus, as \nthere seemed reason to believe that, in the economy of Na- \nture, animal matter did not undergo the extreme retrograde \nmetamorphosis into inorganic matter before being used as food \nby vegetables, so in the animal body the higher elements do not \nappear at once to undergo the extreme retrograde metamor- \nphosis, but are first used as the nutriment of lower organic \nelement. How admirably does Nature thus economize in the \nbody! Just as on a larger scale the carbonic acid exhaled \nby animals is taken up by vegetables, and a poison thus re- \nmoved from the atmosphere in which the animal lives, so by \none organic element of the body the blood is purified from \nthe waste matter of a higher element which would be poison- \nous to it. \n\nThe parts impaired by activity, as all parts must be, are \nrepaired during rest in a condition of health. And it is \nvery interesting to observe, as Mr. Paget has pointed out, \nthat the organic processes of repair in each tissue are ad- \njusted to a certain time-rate, which is variable according to, \nbut is not determined by, external conditions. The time-rate \nis determined by the implanted properties, and "for each \nunit of nutrition might be reckoned a unit of time." The \nperiodicities of organic life appear to be prominent instances \nof the law ; and the rhythmic motions of the heart, or the \nmotions of cilia, are, Mr. Paget supposes, due "to a method \nof nutrition in which the acting parts are, at certain peri- \nods, raised with time-regulated progress to a state of instabil- \nity of composition from which they then decline, and in their \ndecline may change their shape and move with a definite velo- \ncity, or (as nervous centres) may discharge nerve-force." * In \n\n* On the Chronometry of Life. By J. Paget, F. R. S. (Croonian Lec- \nture before the Royal Society, 1857.) \n\n\n\nOF VITALITY. 147 \n\nthis recognition cf the chronometry of organic processes, \nthere is unquestionably great promise for the future ; for it \nis plain that the observance of time in the motions of organic \nmolecules is as certain and universal, if not as exact, as that \nin the motions of heavenly bodies. Each organic process \nhas its definite time-rate ; and each cell has its appointed pe- \nriod of life different for different kinds of cells. The exer- \ncise of its energy is the accomplishment of the life-task of the \ngland-cell of the stomach, and its existence ends therewith \xe2\x80\x94 it \ndischarges its duty with its life ; but it is not so with other \ncells. It is not known, for example, how soon the blood-cell and \nother cells die. The blood-cell may be ephemeral, and after \nthe manufacture of its material straightway perish, supplying \nin the products of its decomposition material for the coloring \nmatters of the bile ; or it may accomplish its function more \nthan once, and live therefore for some time. Certain facts \ndo, indeed, point to a short duration, as, for example, the de- \nstruction of the nucleus in the blood-cell, the analogy of the \ncells of the stomach and milk-glands, and of the sebaceous \nand spermatic cells, and the great production of blood-cells ; \nbut nothing positive is known, and the subject is one which \nawaits, and ought to receive, careful attention. \n\nSuch, then, is the general process of life physiologically \nregarded. But there is nothing special in disease. Although \nthe destructive cancerous mass seems at first sight to admit \nof no sort of comparison with the beneficial formation of a \ndeveloping organ, yet the production is governed by laws of \norganic growth and activity. No new forces nor new laws \nappear in the organism under the circumstances which are de- \nscribed as disease. u \'Tis as natural to die as to be born," says \nSir T. Browne ; and, if we choose to accept the doctrine of final \ncause, we must acknowledge that the disease which leads to \ndeath is as natural, as much in the purpose of Nature, as the \nphysiological processes which constitute health. An indi- \nvidual exists in certain relations with the external, and the \nharmony which results from the maintenance of these rela- \n\n\n\n148 THE THEOKY \n\ntions is health, while a disturbance of them, whether from a \ncause in the organism or in the external circumstances, or \npartly in one and partly in the other, is discord or disease. \nThe phenomena of morbid action may therefore, when prop- \nerly regarded, be serviceable as experiments illustrating the \ncharacter and relations of vital action. \n\nAs each cell has its appointed period of life, and each \nspecies of cell its natural degree of life, and as there are \nmany cells and many kinds of cells in the human body, it is \nevident that disease will be more easily initiated in it than in \nan organism with less differentiation of tissue, and less com- \nplexity of structure. For the life of the organism is the sum \nof the life of its individual parts, and superiority of vitality \nsignifies more numerous, special, and complex relations with \nthe external. In the lowest organisms, where there is a \nsimilarity of structure, one part is independent of another, \nand dependent only on the maintenance of certain general \nand simple relations with the external ; there is, therefore, \ncomparatively little liability to disturbance.* When the parts \nare, however, unlike, and there is a definite subordination of \nthem, so that the well-being of the highest structure is de- \npendent on the well-being of all the structures which inter- \nvene in the descending scale between it and inorganic ISTature, \nthere is plainly abundant room for disturbance. As in the \nstate, so in the organism, the vitality of the government flows \nfrom, and rests upon, the well-being of individuals. \n\n"When, from some of the many disturbing causes which \ninitiate disease, a particular elementary constituent of the \nbody is prevented from rising to the dignity of its specific \nconstitution and energy, there will, if the disturbing cause \n\n* Goethe, after saying that every thing living is a collection of living, \nself-dependent beings, adds: "Je unvolkommner das GeschSpf ist, desto \nmehr sind diese Theile einander gleich oder ahnlich, und desto mehr gleichen \nsie dem Ganzen. Je volkommner das GeschOpf wird, desto unahnlicher \nwerden die Theile einander. Je ahnlicher die Theile einander sind, desto \nweniger sind sie einander snbordinirt. Die Subordination der Theile deutet \nauf ein volkommneres Geschopf." \n\n\n\nOF VITALITY. 149 \n\nhas not been so serious as to destroy the life of the part, be a \nproduction of an element of a lower kind with a lower en- \nergy ; and that is a diseased product. It is as if the substance \nof a polype were produced among the higher physiological \nelements of the human body, and went on increasing there \nwithout regard to relations with surrounding elements of \ntissue. There may be a production of foreign substance in \nlarger quantity than that which should rightly be formed of \nthe natural tissue, and a greater display of force, but both \nstructure and energy are of a lower order. What is gained \nin quantity is lost in quality, and the vitality is intrinsically \nless. \n\nInflammation in a part is really the result of a degenera- \ntion of its vitality. When a wound heals by the " first inten- \ntion/\' there is direct adhesion of its surfaces, and no inflam- \nmation, for the natural vitality of the part is maintained, and \neffects the repair. When slight inflammation occurs, the vi- \ntality of the part has undergone a certain degeneration, and \nmaterial of an inferior order to the proper element of the part \nis produced ; this substance binds the surfaces together, and \nit may in process of time, on the complete subsidence of in- \nflammation, and under the favorable conditions of surround- \ning healthy tissue life, even rise to the condition of the proper \nstructure. But the lymph does not appear to be thrown out \nwith any special beneficial design ; it is the simple result of \na deterioration of energy, is only a less degree of a positive \nevil. When greater inflammation takes place, or when the \nnatural vitality of the part is feeble, there is a greater degen- \neration, and material of a still lower kind, which is not even \norgauizable under any circumstances, is produced. Pus is \npoured out, and ceases to appear with the restoration of the \nproper vitality of the tissue. If the inflammation is still \ngreater, the degeneration passes into actual destruction of \nlife, and mortification ensues. When John Hunter, therefore, \nspeaks, as he does, of Nature calling up the vital powers to \nproduce suppuration, his words convey a false notion of what \n\n\n\n150 THE THEORY \n\nreally happens. The injury has so damaged the parts that \nthe vital action cannot rise to its specific elevation ; an in- \nferior kind of action is alone possible, which is really disease, \nand only so far beneficial as it proves that the life of the part \nhas not been killed outright. As might be expected, there- \nfore, it is in exhausting diseases that inflammation most com- \nmonly and easily occurs. How incorrect, then, is it to speak \nof inflammation as if it were a process specially provided for \nrestoring the healthy life of parts ! "When adhesive inflamma- \ntion is said to limit the suppuration of an abscess, its occur- \nrence is a result of diminishing mischief, and testifies to a less \nserious degeneration of vital force. How hard it is not to be \nblind when theories or wishes lead us ! When adhesive in- \nflammation fixes a piece of strangulated gut to the side of the \nbelly, so as happily to prevent the passage of fecal matter \ninto the peritoneal cavity, it is sometimes said to be a wise \nand kindly provision of Nature. "What, then, shall be said \nof inflammation when it glues the gut to a hernial cavity, or \nmanufactures a fibrous band which strangles the gut ? Is this \nalso a wise and beneficial design ? \n\nThat which is true of the material products of inflamma- \ntion is necessarily true of its force ; the heat, and pain, and \nrigors, the forces as w^ell as the material, testify to a degenera- \ntion of vital force. The sort of stormy rage and demonstra- \ntive activity which characterize inflammation, though unques- \ntionably an exhibition of force, are not really an increased \ndisplay of the proper vital force. The latter has undergone \na transformation from the quiet, self-contained activity of \ndevelopment into the unrestrained dissipation of a lower ac- \ntivity ; and, as regards the latter, it might be said that sev- \neral monads of its matter, or volumes of its force, are equiva- \nlent only to one monad of matter or one volume of force of \nthe former. Eigors, as the involuntary action of voluntary \nmuscle, are a degradation of action witnessing to a molecular \ndeterioration of vital conditions. Heat is a physical force \nwhich must have resulted from the retrograde metamorphosis \n\n\n\nOF VITALITY. 151 \n\nof vital force. The existence of pain, where rightly there \nshould be no sensation, testifies to a molecular deterioration \nof statical element and a correlative exhibition of force. The \nincreased action of inflammation in a part is, therefore, di- \nminished vital action. Perhaps it might once for all be \nstated, as a law of vital action, that the dignity of the force \nis in an inverse ratio to its volumetrical display. It is indeed \nwith organic action as it is with mental action. The emo- \ntional man displays considerable force, and often produces \ngreat effects in the way of destruction, but his power is vast- \nly inferior to that of the man who has developed emotion a. \nforce into the higher form of will-force, who has coordinated \nthe passions into the calm, self-contained activity of definite \nproductive aim. Surely creation always testifies to a much \nhigher energy than destruction. \n\nThe foregoing considerations unavoidably flow from a \nconception of vitality as correlate with other natural forces, \nand as subject to the law of the conservation of force. They \nobtain additional weight, however, from being in some ac- \ncordance with the important generalizations which one of \nthe most philosophical physiologists of the present time has \nmade with regard to morbid products. Yirchow has, as is \nwell known, referred all morbid structures to physiological \ntypes, and maintains that there is no new structure produced \nin the organism by disease. The cancer-cell, the pus-cell, \nand all other disease-produced cells, have their patterns in \nthe cells of healthy structure. The cells of tubercle corre- \nspond with the corpuscles of the lymphatic glands ; pus and \ncolorless blood-corpuscles cannot be distinguished except by \nlooking at the place whence they come; the cells of cancer \nin bone u are the immediate descendants of the cells in bone ; " \nand certain colloid tumors have the structure of the umbilical \ncord. "Where a new formation takes place, certain histolo- \ngical elements of the body must generally also cease to exist ; V \nand every kind of new formation is really, therefore, destruc- \ntive, and destroys something of what previously existed. The \n\n\n\n152 THE THEORY \n\nconnective tissue, with its equivalents, he describes as the \ncommon stock of germs of the body ; from them morbid \nstructures proceed by continuous development. " Heterolo- \ngous tissues have physiological types ; and there is no other \nkind of heterology in morbid structures than the abnormal \nmanner in which they arise as to place (heterotopia), time \n(heterochronia), and quantity (heterometria)." * \n\n* The conclusions with regard to vital force, which a con- \nsistent conception of it as a natural force seems to necessi- \ntate, will find extensive application in the various phenomena \nof disease. We have seen that if the resolution of the vital- \nity of a single nerve-cell into a vitality of a lower kind be \nsupposed \xe2\x80\x94 into that, for example, of polype substance \xe2\x80\x94 it \nwould necessarily suffice for the production of a whole \npolype, or perhaps of a multitude of polypes. In other \nwords, one nervous unit, monad, or molecule, is the vital \nequivalent of many units, monads, or molecules of polypo \nsubstance. How idle it is, then, to dispute, as some have \ndone, as to whether epilepsy is increased vital action or \ndiminished vital action, when there exists no clear conception \nof what is meant by the words ! No one can deny that there \nis great display of force in the convulsions of epilepsy, but is \nit increased vital force ? Is a man in convulsions a strong \nman ? for that is the real question. Does convulsion in a \nparalyzed limb indicate increased vital action of it ? When \ntetanus of a muscle is produced, as Weber showed it might \nbe, by putting a loop of thread round its nerve and slowly \nand gradually tightening it, does the violent action of the \nmuscle testify to increased vitality ? If it really does, then \nthe mechanical tetanomotor of Heidenhain might, properly \nused, suffice for the cure of every paralysis, and effect a com- \nplete renewal of life. \n\nIn speaking of vital action, we may either consider the \nwhole organism as individual, or we may consider the cell or \norganic monad as the individual. If we regard the organism \n* Cellular Pathology. \n\n\n\nOF VITALITY. 153 \n\nas individual, then when general convulsions take place in it \xe2\x80\x94 \nthat is, violent and aimless movements completely withdrawn \nfrom the control of the will, which should rightly coordinate \nthem into definite action \xe2\x80\x94 it is simply to use words without \nmeaning to say that the vital action of the individual is in- \ncreased. There is not, then, individual action ; and the defi- \nnition of vitality is not applicable to the organism as a whole. \nThe highest manifestation of individuality is in the conscious- \nness of man, the so-called unity of the ego ; but, when the \ncoordination of forces for a definite end is replaced by the \nconvulsions of epilepsy, there is neither subjective nor ob- \njective unity of action. Instead of that quiet will-force which \nexpresses conscious unity, or that unconscious unity of or- \nganic action which is manifest in sleep, there is the violent \nand incoherent exhibition of inferior force. Increased action \nis the result of a degeneration of the proper vital action. " A \nman in convulsions is not strong, though six men cannot hold \nhim." \n\nLike considerations apply when the single cell is regarded \nas individual. In virtue of a certain chemical constitution \nand a certain definite arrangement of molecules, a cell ex- \nhibits energy as nerve-force. That special mode of energy is \nthe definite result of a certain coordination of chemical com- \nbinations and molecular relations ; and these are connoted in \nthe individuality of the cell. "When, however, in place of \nthe definite process of statical attraction (nutrition) and dy- \nnamical repulsion (energy), there takes place a large demon- \nstrative display of force \xe2\x80\x94 as general epileptic convulsions, \nbeing the sum of the action of the individual cells, prove \nthere must \xe2\x80\x94 it is impossible to pronounce such force as of \nthe same rank or kind as the proper energy of the cell. It is \nan inferior kind of power, and the certain indication of a de- \ngeneration of the statical correlative. It is the duty of a cell, \nso to speak, as of an individual, to live in certain relations \nwith its surroundings \xe2\x80\x94 It is, indeed, its essence as an individ- \nual cell of specific character ; and, when it is not so living, it \n\n\n\n154 THE THEORY \n\nis really degenerating, losing its nature or kind, passing more \nor less quickly toward death. Its action is certainly not in- \ncreased functional action. In truth, it would be as just to \ncall the extravagant action of madness in an individual occu- \npying a certain position in a system of government increased \nfunctional action, and to say that the government was stronger \nfor his degenerate action. A state, again, would not he pow- \nerful, would not even exist, if each individual did as his pas- \nsions prompted, altogether regardless of his relations to \nothers; and it would certainly be a strange use of language \nto say then that the functional action of that individual was \nincreased. \n\nThe phenomena of conscious vitality might be used to \nillustrate the same principles. A passionate man is not \nstrong-minded, nor do the ravings of insanity reveal mental \nvigor. A completely-fashioned will is the true mark of a \nstrong mind. " A character," said Novalis, " is a completely- \nfashioned will." As in the order of natural development \nthere has been an ascent from the physical and chemical \nforces to the aim-working vital force, and thence from the \nlowest vitality to the highest manifestation thereof, so in the \ncourse of mental development there is a progress through \nsensation, passion, emotion, reason, to the highest phase of \nmental force, a well-fashioned will. The rightly-developed \nmind, like the healthy cell, recognizes its relations to others ; \nself-feeling gives place to or expands into moral feeling, and \nin the will all the phases of consciousness are coordinated \ninto calm, just, definite action. Noise and fury surely indi- \ncate weakness ; they are the manifestation of inferior force \n\xe2\x80\x94 the tale of an idiot signifying nothing. The strongest force \nis quiet force, and the ravings of insanity, which might not \nunjustly be compared to the convulsions of epilepsy, do not \nevince mental power. \n\nMay we not, then, already perceive, what advancing \nknowledge must ever render more clear, how the conscious \nmind of man blends in unity of development with the un- \n\n\n\nOF VITALITY. 155 \n\nconscious life of Nature ? As the revelation of Nature pro- \nceeds in the progress of science, the idealism of Plato and \nthe realism of Bacon will be found to harmonize as expres- \nsions of the same truths ; the generalizations of Humboldt \nand the poetical intuitions of Goethe may be looked upon as \nbut different descriptions of the same facts. Idealism and real- \nism blend and are extinguished in the intimate harmony be- \ntween the individual and Nature. How great, then, the igno- \nrance which fancies that poetry demands a rude age for its \nsuccessful development ! How little, again, the insight which \nwould make of science an ugly anatomy only ! After analysis \ncomes synthesis ; and, beyond the practical realization of sci- \nence in works which add to human comfort, there remains \nthe eesthetical embodiment of science. Art has now opening \nbefore it a field so wide that imagination cannot dare to limit \nit, for science must plainly attain to its highest development \nin the work of the future poet, who shall give to its reality a \nbeautiful form. Goethe indicated the path, but he who shall \naccomplish it will be a greater than Goethe.* \n\n* Perhaps the truest estimate of science, and the most remarkable \nprophecy with regard to it, is to be found in that wonderful tale by Goethe, \n" Das Mahrchen," a tale which has been described, by one who has done \nmost toward making Goethe known and understood in England, "as the \ndeepest poem of its sort in existence\xe2\x80\x94 as the only true prophecy emitted \nfor who knows how many centuries.\'\' \' \n\n\n\nTHE END. \n\n\n\nTHE PHYSIOLOGY AND PATHOLOGY \n\nOF \n\nTHE MIMB H \n\nBy HENRY MAUDSLEY, M. IX \n\nPrice 9 cloth, $3.00. \n\nThis is one of those works which mark the beginning of a new era in the \nstudy of mental science, and at the same time it is conceded on all sides to \nbe, in its practical portions, a most reliable guide for the diagnosis, descrip- \ntion, and treatment of insanity. \n\n"To effect a reconciliation between the Psychology and the Pathology of the \nmind, or rather to construct a basis for both in a common science, is the aim of Dr. \nMaudsley\'s hook"\xe2\x80\x94 London Saturday Review, May 25, 1867. \n\n" The first chapter is devoted to the consideration of the causes of insanity. It \nwould be well, we think, if this chapter were published in a separate form and scat- \ntered broadcast throughout the land. It is so full of sensible reflections and sound \ntruths, that their wide dissemination could not but be of benefit to all thinking per- \nsons. In taking leave of Dr. Maudsley\'s volume, we desire again to express our \ngratification with the result of his labors, and to express the hope that he has not yet \nceased his studies in the important field which he has selected. Our thanks are also \ndue to the American publishers for the very handsome manner in which they have \nreprinted a work which is certain to do credit to a house already noted for its valu- \nable publications. 1 -\xe2\x80\x94 <?warter\xc2\xa3y Journal of Psychological Medicine and Medical Juris- \nprudence. \n\n" Then follow chapters on the diagnosis, prognosis, and treatment of insanity, \neach characterized by the same bold and brilliant thought, the same charming style \nof composition, and the same sterling sense, that we have found all through. We lay \ndown the book with admiration, and we commend it most earnestly to our readers, \nas a work of extraordinary merit and originality\xe2\x80\x94 one of those productions that are \nevolved only occasionally in the lapse of years, and that serve to mark actual and \nvery decided advances in knowledge and science."\xe2\x80\x94 New York Medical Journal, \nJanuary, 1868. \n\n" This work of Dr. Maudsley\'s is unquestionably one of the ablest, and most im- \nportant, on the subjects of which it treats, that has ever appeared, and does infinite \ncredit to his philosophical acumen and accurate observation. No one has more suc- \ncessfully exhibited the discordant results of metaphysical, physiological, and patho- \nlogical studies of the mind, or demonstrated more satisfactorily the uselessness of \nan exclusive method, or the pressing need of combined action, and of a more philo- \nsophical mode of proceeding."\xe2\x80\x94 Medical Record, November 15, 1867. \n\n" In the recital of the causes of insanity, as found in peculiarities of civilization, \nof religion, sex, condition, and particularly in the engrossing pursuit of wealth, this \ncalm scientific work has the solemnity of a hundred sermons ; and, after going down \ninto this exploration of the mysteries of our being, we shall come up into active life \nagain chastened, thoughtful, and feeling, perhaps, as we never felt before, how fear- \nfully and wonderfully we are made.\xe2\x80\x94 Evening Gazette. \n\n" It is long since we read a scientific work of any kind, of which the raison oVetre \nwas so thoroughly good and important, or which accomplished so much toward the \nfulfilment of a most arduous and laborious task."\xe2\x80\x94 Lancet. \n\n" Dr. Maudsley\'s work, which has already become standard, we most urgently \nrecommend to the careful study of all those who are interested in the physiology and \npathology of the brain."\xe2\x80\x94 Anthropological Review. \n\n\n\nTHE ORIGIN OF CIVILIZATION; \n\nOR, THE \n\nPRIMITIVE CONDITION OF MAN. \nBy SIR JOHN LUBBOCK, Bart., M. P., F. R. S. \n\n3SO Pages. Illustrated.. \n\nThis interesting work is the fruit of many years\' research \nby an accomplished naturalist, and one well trained in mod- \nern scientific methods, into the mental, moral, and social con- \ndition of the lowest savage races. The want of a work of \nthis kind had long been felt, and, as scientific methods are \nbeing more and more applied to questions of humanity, there \nhas been increasing need of a careful and authentic work de- \nscribing the conditions of those tribes of men who are lowest \nin the scale of development. \n\n"This interesting work \xe2\x80\x94 for it is. intensely so in its aim, scope, and the \nability of its author \xe2\x80\x94 treats of what the scientists denominate anthropology, \nor the natural history of the human species ; the complete science of man, \nbody and soul, including sex, temperament, race, civilization, etc." \xe2\x80\x94 Provi- \ndence Press. \n\n"A work which is most comprehensive in its aim, and most admirable in \nits execution. The patience and judgment bestowed on the book are every- \nwhere apparent ; the mere list of authorities quoted giving evidence of wide \nand impartial reading. The work, indeed, is not only a valuable one on ac- \ncount of the opinions it expresses, but it is also most serviceable as a book \nof reference. It offers an able and exhaustive table of a vast array of facts, \nwhich no single student could well obtain for himself, and it has not been \nmade the vehicle for any special pleading on the part of the author." \xe2\x80\x94 \nLondon Athenceum. \n\n" The book is no cursory and superficial review ; it goes to the very heart \nof the subject, and embodies the results of all the later investigations. It is \nreplete with curious and quaint information presented in a compact, luminous, \nand entertaining form." \xe2\x80\x94 Albany Evening Journal. \n\n" The treatment of the subject is eminently practical, dealing more with \nfact than theory, or perhaps it will be more just to say, dealing only with \ntheory amply sustained by fact." \xe2\x80\x94 Detroit Free Press. \n\n"This interesting and valuable volume illustrates, to some extent, the \nway in which the modern scientific spirit manages to extract a considerable \ntreasure from the chaff and refuse neglected or thrown aside by former in- \nquirers." \xe2\x80\x94 London Saturday Review. \n\nD. APPLETON & CO., Publishers. \n\n\n\nTHE ORIGIN OF SPECIES, \n\nBy CHARLES DARWIN. \n\n\n\nA new American edition of "The Origin of Species," later than the latest \nEnglish edition, has just been published, with the author\'s most recent cor- \nrections and additions. \n\nIn the whole history of the progress of knowledge there is no case so re- \nmarkable of a system of doctrines, at first generally condemned as false and \nabsurd, coming into general acceptance in the scientific world in a single \ndecade. From the following statements, the reader will infer the estimate \nthat is now placed upon the man and his works by the highest authorities. \n\n" Personally and practically exercised in zoology, in minute anatomy, in \ngeology ; a student of geographical distribution, not on maps and in museums \nonly, but by long voyages and laborious collection ; having largely advanced \neach of these branches of science, and having spent many years in gathering \nand sifting materials for hi3 present work, the store of accurately-registered \nfacts upon which the author of the c Origin of Species\' is able to draw at \nwill is prodigious." \xe2\x80\x94 Prof. T. H. Huxley. \n\nu Far abler men than myself may confess that they have not that untiring \npatience in accumulating, and that wonderful skill in using, large masses of \nfacts of the most varied kind \xe2\x80\x94 that wide and accurate physiological knowl- \nedge \xe2\x80\x94 that acuteness in devising, that skill in carrying out experiments, and \nthat admirable style of composition, at once clear, persuasive, and judicial, \nqualities which, in their harmonious combination, mark out Mr. Darwin as \nthe man, perhaps of all men now living, best fitted for the great work he \nhas undertaken and accomplished." \xe2\x80\x94 Alfred Russell Wallace. \n\nIn Germany these views are rapidly extending. Prof. Giekie, a distin- \nguished British geologist, attended the recent Congress of German Natural- \nists and Physicians, at Innspruck, in which some eight hundred savants \nwere present, and thus writes: \n\n"What specially struck me was the universal sway which the writings \nof Darwin now exercise over the German mind. You see it on every side, in \nprivate conversation, in printed papers, in all the many sections into which \nsuch a meeting as that at Innspruck divides. Darwin\'s name is often men- \ntioned, and always with the profoundest veneration. But even where no al- \nlusion is specially made to him, nay, even more markedly, where such allusion \nis absent, we see how thoroughly his doctrines have permeated the scientific \nmind, even in those departments of knowledge which might seem at first \nsight to be farthest from natural history. * You are still discussing in Eng- \nland,\' said a German friend to me, * whether or not the theory of Darwin can \nbe true. We have got a long way beyond that here. His theory is now our \ncommon starting-point.\' And, so far as my experience went, I found it to \nbe so." \n\nX>. ^JPIPILEITOlSr So CO., Fiiblisliers. \n\n\n\nD. Appleton & Company\' ] s Publications. \n\n\n\nLAY SEEMOE^, \nADDRESSES, AND KEYIEWS, \n\nBy THOMAS HENRY HUXLEY. \n\nClotli, 12mo. 390 pages. Price, $1.75 \n\nThis is the latest and most popular of the works of this in- \ntrepid and accomplished English thinker. The American edition \nof the work is the latest, and contains, in addition to the English \nedition, Professor Huxley\'s recent masterly address on " Spon- \ntaneous Generation," delivered before the British Association for \nthe Advancement of Science, of which he was president. \n\nThe following is from an able article in the Independent : \n\nThe " Lay Sermons, Addresses, and Reviews " is a book to be read \nby every one who would keep up with the advance of truth\xe2\x80\x94 as well by \nthose who are hostile as those who are friendly to his conclusions. In \nit, scientific and philosophical topics are handled with consummate abil- \nity. It is remarkable for purity of style and power of expression. No- \nwhere, in any modern work, is the advancement of the pursuit of that \nnatural knowledge, which is of vital importance to bodily and mental \nwell-being, so ably handled. \n\nProfessor Huxley is undoubtedly the representative scientific man of \nthe age. His reverence for the right and devotion to truth have estab- \nlished his leadership of modern scientific thought. He leads the beliefs \nand aspirations of the increasingly powerful body of the younger men of \nscience. His ability for research is marvellous. There is possible no mors \nequipoise of judgment than that to which he brings the phenomena of \nNature. Besides, he is not a mere scientist. His is a popularized phi- \nlosophy ; social questions have been treated by his pen in a manner most \nmasterly. In his popular addresses, embracing the widest range of top- \nics, he treads on ground with which he seems thoroughly familiar. \n\nThere are those who hold the name of Professor Huxley as synony- \nmous with irreverence and atheism. Plato\'s was so held, and Galileo\'s, \nand Descartes\'s, and Newton\'s, and Faraday\'s. There can be no greater \nmistake. No man has greater reverence for the Bible than Huxley. No \none more acquaintance with the text of Scripture. He believes there is \ndefinite government of the universe ; that pleasures and pains are distrib- \nuted in accordance with law ; and that the certain proportion of evil \nwoven up in the life even of worms will help the man who thinks to bear \nhis own share with courage. \n\nIn the estimate of Professor Huxley\'s future influence upon science, \nhis youth and health form a large element. He has just passed his forty- \nfifth year. If God spare his life, truth can hardly fail to be the gainer \nfrom a mind that is stored with knowledge of the laws of the Creator\'s \noperations, and that has learned to love all beauty and hate all vileness of \nNature and art. \n\n\n\nSPENCERS SYSTEM OF PHILOSOPHY. \n\nTHE PHILOSOPHY OF EVOLUTION. \n\nBy HERBERT SPENCER. \n\n\n\nThis great system of scientific thought, the most original and important men- \ntal undertaking of the age, to which Mr. Spencer has devoted his life, is now well \nadvanced, the published volumes being: First Principles, The Principles of Bi- \nology, two volumes, and The Principles of Psychology, vol. i., which will be \nshortly printed. \n\nThis philosophical system differs from all its predecessors in being solidly \nbased on the sciences of observation and induction ; in representing the order \nand course of Nature ; in bringing Nature and man, life, mind, and society, under \none great law of action ; and in developing a method of thought which may serve \nfor practical guidance in dealing with the affairs of life. That Mr. Spencer is the \nman for this great work will be evident from the following statements : \n\n11 The only complete and systematic statement of the doctrine of Evolution \nwith which I am acquainted is that contained in Mr. Herbert Spencer\'s \' System \nof Philosophy ; \' a work which should be carefully studied by all who desire to \nknow whither scientific thought is tending."\xe2\x80\x94 T. H. Huxley. \n\n" Of all our thinkers, he is the one who has formed to himself the largest new \nscheme of a systematic philosophy." \xe2\x80\x94 Prof. Masson. \n\n"If any individual influence is visibly encroaching on Mills in this country, it \nis his." \xe2\x80\x94 Ibid. \n\n"Mr. Spencer is one of the most vigorous as well as boldest thinkers th#t \nEnglish speculation has yet produced." \xe2\x80\x94 John Stuart Mill. \n" One of the acutest metaphysicians of modern times."\xe2\x80\x94 Ibid. \n\n" One of our deepest thinkers."\xe2\x80\x94 Dr. Joseph D. Hooker. \n\nIt is questionable if any thinker of finer calibre has appeared in our coun- \ntry."\xe2\x80\x94 George Henry Lewes. \n\n"He alone, of all British thinkers, has organized a philosophy."\xe2\x80\x94 Ibid. \n\n" He is as keen an analyst as is known in the history of philosophy ; I do not \nexcept either Aristotle or Kant."\xe2\x80\x94 George Ripley. \n\n"If we were to give our own judgment, we should say that, since Newton, \nthere has not in England been a philosopher of more remarkable speculative and \nsystematizing talent than (in spite of some errors and some narrowness) Mr. Her- \nbert Spencer."\xe2\x80\x94 London Saturday Eeview. \n\n"We cannot refrain from offering our tribute of respect to one who, whether \nfor the extent of his positive knowledge, or for the profundity of his speculative \ninsight, has already achieved a name second to none in the whole range of Eng- \nlish philosophy, and whose works will worthily sustain the credit of English \nthought in the present generation."\xe2\x80\x94 Westminster Eeview. \n\n\n\nWorks of Herbert Spencer published by D. Appleton <\xc2\xa3 Co. \nThe Philosophy of Herbert Spencer* \n\n\n\nFIRST PRINCIPLES; \n\nZ2V TWO FAJtTS: \n\nt THE UNKNOWABLE. II LAWS OF THE KNOWABLE. \n\nIn one Voltnne. 518 page3. \n\n\n\n14 "Mr. Spencer has earned an eminent and commanding position as a metaphysician, \nta1 his ability, earnestness, and profundity, are in none of his former volumes so con- \ngpnjnous as in this. There is not a crude thought, a flippant fling, or an irreverent in- \nBin.iation in this book, notwithstanding that it has something of the character of a \ndaring and determined raid upon the old philosophies." \xe2\x80\x94 Chicago Journal. \n\n"This volume, treating of First Principles, like all Mr. Spencer\'s writings that have \nfallen under our observation, is distinguished for clearness, earnestness, candor, and \nthat originality and fearlessness which ever mark the true philosophical spirit. His \ntreatment of theological opinions is reverent and respectful, and his suggestions and \narguments are such as to deserve, as they will compel, the earnest attention of all \nthoughtful students of first truths. Agreeing with Hamilton and Mansel in the gene- \nral, on the unknowableness of the unconditioned, he nevertheless holds that their being \nis in a form asserted by consciousness." \xe2\x80\x94 Christian Advocate. \n\ntt The literary world has seen but few such authors as Herbert Spencer. There hava \nbeen metaphysical writers in the same exalted sphere who before him have attempted \nto reduce the laws of nature to a rational system. But in the highest realm of philo- \nsophical investigation he stands head and shoulders above his predecessors ; not perhaps \npurely by force of superior intellect, but partly owing to the greater aid which the \nlight of modern science has afforded him in the prosecution of his difficult task."\xe2\x80\x94 \nBoston Bulletin. \n\n" Mr. Spencer is achieving an enviable distinction by his contributions to the conn- \ntry\'s literature ; his system of philosophy is destined to become a work of no small \nrenown. Its appearance at this time is an evidence that our people are not all absorbed \nm war and its tragic events."\xe2\x80\x94 Ohio State Journal. \n\nu Mr. Spencer\'s works will undoubtedly receive in this country the attention they \nE&erit There is a broad liberality of tone throughout which will recommend them to \nthinking, inquiring Americans. Whether, as is asserted, he has established a new sys- \ntem of philosophy, and if so, whether that system is better than all other systems, is \nf \xc2\xabt to be decided ; but that his bold and vigorous thought will add something valuable \nfisd permanent to human knowledge is undeniable." \xe2\x80\x94 Utica Herald. \n\n** Herbert Spencer is the foremost among living thinkers. If less erudite thas \nHamilton, he is quite as original, and is more comprehensive and catholic than Maxs \nHiV\xe2\x80\x94 Universamb. \n\n\n\nWorks published bv 7> Applct&n ds Co, \n\n\n\nTHE CORRELATION AND CONSERVATION \n\n\n\nOF \n\n\n\nFORCES \n\n\n\nSERIES OF EXPOSITIONS BY GROVE, MAYER, HELMHOLTZ, \nFARADAY, LIEBIG, AND CARPENTER. \n\n\n\nWITH \n\n\n\nAN INTRODUCTION \n\n\n\nBY E. L. YOTJMANS \n\n\n\nThe work embraces : \n\nI.\xe2\x80\x94 THE CORRELATION" OF PHYSICAL FORCES. Bt \n"W. R. Grove. (The complete work.) \n\nII.\xe2\x80\x94 CELESTIAL DYNAMICS. By Dr. J. R. Maye*. \n\nIII.\xe2\x80\x94 THE INTERACTION OF FORCES. By Prof. Helm- \nholtz. \n\nIV. \xe2\x80\x94 THE CONNECTION AND EQUIVALENCE 01 \nFORCES. By Prof. Liebig. \n\nV\xe2\x80\x94 ON THE CONSERVATION OF FORCE. By D^ \nFaraday. \n\n71.\xe2\x80\x94 ON THE CORRELATION OF PHYSICAL AND VJ \nTAL FORCES. By Dr. Carpenter. \n\n\n\nWorks published by D, Appleton & Co, \n\n\n\nHEAT 5 \n\nCONSIDERED AS A MODE OF MOTION, \n\nBeing a Course of Twelve Lectures delivered before the \nRoyal Institution of Great Britain. \n\nBY JOHN TYNDALL, F. E. S., \n\nPROFESSOR OF NATUEAL PHILOSOPHY IN THE EOYAL rNSTITTTTION\xe2\x80\x94 ATTTHOB 09 1331 \n"GLACISES OP THE ALPS," ETC. \n\nWith One Hundred Illustrations. 8vo, 480 page3. Price, $2. \n\n\n\nProm the American Journal of Science.\xe2\x80\x94 "With ail the skill which has \nmade Faraday the master of experimental science in Great Britain, Professor Tyndall \nenjoys the advantage of a superior general culture, and is thus enabled to set forth hi8 \nphilosophy with all the graces of eloquence and the finish of superior diction. "With a \nsimplicity, and absence of technicalities, which render his explanations lucid to un- \nscientific minds, and at the same time a thoroughness and originality by which he in- \nstructs the roost learned, he unfolds all the modern philosophy of heat. His work takes \nrank at once as a classic upon the subject. \n\nNew York Times.\xe2\x80\x94 Professor Tyndairs course of lectures on heat is one of the \nmost beautiful illustrations of a mode of handling scientific subjects, which is com- \nparatively new, and which promises the best results, both to science and to literature \ngenerally ; we mean ike treatment of subjects in a style at once profound and popu- \nlar. The title of Professor Tyndairs work indicates the theory of heat held by him, \nand indeed the only one now held by scientific men \xe2\x80\x94 it is a mode of motion, \n\nBoston Journal.\xe2\x80\x94 He exhibits the curious and beautiful workings of nature in \na most delightful manner. Before the reader particles of water lock themselves or fly \nasunder with a movement regulated like a dance. They form themselves into liquid \nflowers with fine serrated petals, or into rosettes of frozen gauze ; they bound upward \nIn boiling fountains, or creep slowly onward in stupendous glaciers. Flames burst into \nmusic and sing, or cease to sing, as the experimenter pleases, and metals paint them- \nselves upon a screen in dazzling hues as the painter touches his canvas. \n\nNew York Tribune. \xe2\x80\x94 The most original and important contribution that has \nyet been made to the theory and literature of thermotics. \n\nScientific American. \xe2\x80\x94 The work is written in a charming style, and is the \nmost valuable contribution to scientific literature that b is been published in many \nyears. It is the most popular exposition of the dynamical theory of heat that has yet \nappeared. The old material theory of heat may be said to be defunct. \n\nXiOuisville Democrat. \xe2\x80\x94 This is one of the most delightful scientific works we \nhave ever met. The lectures are so full of life and spirit that we can almost imagine \nthe lecturer before us, and see his brilliant experiments in every stage of their progress. \nThe theory is so carefully and thoroughly explained that no one can fail to understand \nIt. Such books as these create a love for science. \n\nIndependent. \xe2\x80\x94 Professor Tyndairs expositions and experiments are remarkably \nthoughtful, ingenious, clear, and convincing ; portions of the book have almost tb* \nIn terost of a romance, so startling are the descriptions and elucidations. \n\n\n\n" One of the most accomplished Writers of the Age." \n\n\n\nHISTORY \n\nOF THE \n\nEISE AND INFLUENCE \n\nOF THE BPIKIT OF \n\nRATIONALISM m EUROPE. \n\n2 Vols, small 8vo. Cloth, $4. \n\n\n\n[From <f/ie Edinburgh Beview.] \n\n" We opened these volumes, never having heard the name of their author, and \nentirely ignorant of his pretensions to a place in English literature. We closed \nthem with the conviction that Mr. Lecky is one of the most accomplished writers \nand one of the most ingenious thinkers of the time, and that his book deserves \nthe highest commendation we can bestow upon it. Indeed, it has seldom been \nour good fortune to take up an essay by an unknown, and we presume, a young \nauthor, so remarkable for the purity and elegance of its style, so replete with \nvaried erudition, appropriately introduced to enliven argument, or so distinguished \nfor broad and dispassionate views. ****** This book well deserves to be \nuniversally read and carefully studied, for if the eye is dazzled at first by the bril- \nliancy of the fervor, the mind is interested and occupied by the subtlety and per- \nspicuity of a thousand observations which escape notice on a first perusal. In a \nword, we hope to see this work take its place among the best literary productions \nof the age, and we doubt not that it will powerfully conduce to the ultimate tri- \numph of that cause to which it is devoted.\' 1 \n\nD. APPLETON & CO., Publishers, \n\n90, 92 & 94 Grand Street, New York, \n\n\n\nD. APPLETON & GO: 8 PUBLICATIONS \n\n\n\nTHE PHYSIOLOGY OF MAI; \n\nDESIGNED TO \n\nBEPKESENT THE EXISTING STATE OF PHYSIOLOGICAL SCIENCE, \nAS APPLIED TO THE FUNCTIONS OF THE HUMAN BODY. \n\nBy AUSTIN IFX.IlN-\'r, Jr., M. D. \n\nAlimentation; Digestion; Absorption; Lymph and Ohyla. \n1 volume, 8vo. Cloth. Price, $4.50. \n\n\n\nRECENTLY TTTBLISMjEJ). \n\nTHE FIRST VOLUME OF THE SERIES \n\nBY \n\n.AXTSTnsr flustt, Jr., m. r>., \n\nCONTAINING \n\nIntroduction; The Blood; The Circulation; Eespiration. \n1 volume, 8vo. Cloth. Price, $4.50. \n\n\n\n" Professor Flint is engaged in the preparation of an extended \nwork on human physiology, in which he professes to consider all the \nsubjects usually regarded as belonging to that department of phys- \nical science. The work will be divided into separate and distinct \nparts, but the several volumes in which it is to be published will form \na connected series." \xe2\x80\x94 Providence Journal. \n\nIt is free from technicalities and purely professional terms, and \ninstead of only being adapted to the use of the medical faculty, \nwill be found of interest to the general reader who desires clear \nand concise information on the subject of man physical." \xe2\x80\x94 Evening \nPost. \n\n" Digestion is too little understood, indigestion too extensively \nsuffered, to render this a work of supererogation. Stomachs will have \ntheir revenge, sooner or later, if Nature\'s laws are infringed upon \nthrough ignorance or stubbornness, and it is well that all should un- \nderstand how the penalty for \'high living\' is assessed." \xe2\x80\x94 Chicago \nEvening Journal. \n\n" A year has elapsed since Dr. Flint published the first part of \n* his great work upon human physiology. It was an admirable treatise \n\xe2\x80\xa2\xe2\x80\x94distinct in itself \xe2\x80\x94 exhausting the special subjects upon which it \ntreated. \' \' \xe2\x80\x94 Philadelphia Inquirer. \n\n\n\n" A SO OK WHICH IS AS READABLE AS A NOVEL. \n\n\n\nHISTORY OF EUROPEAN MORALS, \n\nFrom Augustus to Charlemagne. \n\n* \n\nBy W. E. H. LECKY, M. A. \n\n2 vols., 8vo. 500 pages each. Price, $6.00. \n\n\n\nCONTENTS : \n\nThe Utilitarian School\xe2\x80\x94 Objections to the School\xe2\x80\x94 Consequence of acting \non Utilitarian Principles\xe2\x80\x94 Utilitarian Sanctions \xe2\x80\x94 Intuitive School \xe2\x80\x94 Alleged \nDiversities of Moral Judgment\xe2\x80\x94 Each of the Two Schools of Morals related \nto the General Condition of Society \xe2\x80\x94 The Order in which Moral Feelings \nare developed. \n\nTHE PAGAN EMPIRE. \n\nStoicism\xe2\x80\x94 Growth, of a Gentler and more Cosmopolitan Spirit in Rome- \nRise of Eclectic Moralists\xe2\x80\x94 The People still very corrupt\xe2\x80\x94 Causes of the \nCorruption\xe2\x80\x94 Effects of Stoicism en the Corruption of Society \xe2\x80\x94 Passion for \nOriental Religions\xe2\x80\x94 Neoplatonism. \n\nTHE CONVERSION OF ROME. \n\nExamination of the Theory which ascribes part of the Teaching of the \nHated Pagan Moralists to Christian Influence\xe2\x80\x94 Theory which attributes the \nConversion of the Empire to the Evidence of Miracles \xe2\x80\x94 The Persecution the \nCimrch underwent not of a Nature to crush it \xe2\x80\x94 History of the Persecutions. \n\nFROM CONSTANTINE TO CHARLEMAGNE. \n\nFirst Consequence of Christianity, a New Sense of the Sanctity of Hu- \nman Life\xe2\x80\x94 The Second Consequence of Christianity, to teach Universal \nBrotherhood \xe2\x80\x94 Two Qualifications of our Admiration of the Charity of the \nChurch \xe2\x80\x94 The Growth of Asceticism \xe2\x80\x94 The Saints of the Desert\xe2\x80\x94 Decline of \nthe Civic Virtues\xe2\x80\x94 General Moral Condition of the Byzantine Empire\xe2\x80\x94 Dis- \ntinctive Excellences of the Ascetic Period \xe2\x80\x94 Monachisni \xe2\x80\x94 Relation of Mona- \nchism to the Intellectual Virtues \xe2\x80\x94 The Monasteries the Receptacles of \nLearning \xe2\x80\x94 Moral Condition of Western Europe \xe2\x80\x94 Growth of a Military and \nAristocratic Spirit\xe2\x80\x94 Consecration of Secular Rank. \n\nTHE POSITION OF WOMEN. \n\nThe Courtesans\xe2\x80\x94 Roman Public Opinion much purer \xe2\x80\x94 Christian Influ- \nence\xe2\x80\x94Relation of Christianity to the Female Virtues. \n\nD. APFXiETON & CO., Publishers, \n\n90, 92 & 94 Grand St., New York. \nSent five by mail to any address In the United States on receipt of the price \n\n\n\nAMERICAN CYCLOPAEDIA. \n\nD. APPLETON & CO., \n\n00, 92 & 94 GKAND ST., NEW YOEK. \n\nHA YE NOW READY THE \n\nNEW AMERICAN CYCLOPAEDIA \n\nA POPULAR DICTIONARY OF GENERAL KNOWLEDGE. \n\nEDITED BY \n\nGEORGE RIPLEY and CHARLES A. DANA, \n\nAIDED BY A \n\nNumerous Select Corps of Writers in all Branches of Science, Art, \n\nand Literature, \n\nIIST 16 X,A.KGrEl VOLUMES, Svo, \n750 double-column Pages in each Volume. \n\nFrom the New York Times. \n\n** It is a work written by Americans for Americans. It proffers them the \nknowledge they most require, selected and arranged by those who are eompe \ntent to the task, because they themselves had experienced the want they now \nendeavor to supply. It is minute on points of general interest, and condensed \nin those of more partial application. Its information is the latest extant, and \nin advance of any other book of reference in the world. The best talent in the \ncountry has been engaged in its production." \n\nPRICE OF THE WORK : \n\nIn Extra Cloth, per vol., $5 00 \n\nIn Library Leather, per vol., 6 00 \n\nIn Half Turkey Morocco, black, per vol., 6 50 \n\nIn Half Russia, extra gilt, per vol., 7 50 \n\nIn Full Morocco, antique, gilt edges, per vol., 9 00 \n\nin Full Eussia, 9 00 \n\nThe price of the work will, for the present, remain as above, but if there \nshall be any great advance in paper and material the price must be increased \nTo preve.it disappointment, orders should bo at once forwarded to the publish- \ners or to the agents of the work in different parts of the country. \n\nTo those wlio have not already Subscribed for the Work \n\nMany persons have omitted to subscribe for the Work during its progress \nthrough the Press, owing to an unwillingness to subscribe for an incomplete \n\xe2\x80\xa2\xe2\x80\xa2rork. They may now obtain complete sets in any of the above Styles. \n\nD. APPLET0N & CO., Publishers, \n\n90, 92 & 94 Grand Street, New York. \n\n\n\n'