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THE SENSES
THE INTELLECT.
1 BY
ALEXANDER BAIN, M.A.,
PROFESSOR OF LOGIC IN THE UNIVERSITY OF ABERDEEN,
I
:
: THIRD EDITION.
LONDON:
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
1868.
ea Cm eh 85. 7
STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY
ARTHUR KING AND COMPANY, ABERDLEN,
Nee
he { ie
PREFACE.
ue object of this treatise is to give a full and
systematic account of two principal divisions of
the science of mind,—the Senses and the Intellect.
The remaining two divisions, comprising the Emotions
and the Will, will be the subject of a future treatise.
While endeavouring to present in a methodical
form all the important facts and doctrines bearing
upon mind, considered as a branch of science, I have
seen reason to adopt some new views, and to depart,
in a few instances, from the most usual arrangement
of the topics.
| Conceiving that the time has now come when
many of the striking discoveries of Physiologists
* relative to the nervous system should find a recog-
-nized place in the Science of Mind, I have devoted
\. a separate chapter to the Physiology of the Brain
“* and Nerves.
. In treating of the Senses, besides recognizing the
~. so-called muscular sense as distinct from the five
~ senses, I have thought proper to assign to Movement
and the feelings of Movement a position preceding
2 the Sensations of the senses; and have endeavoured
yto prove that the exercise of active energy, origi-
“nating in purely internal impulses, independent of
os
y $2
%Z
ne
Pd
lv PREFACE.
the stimulus produced by outward impressions, is a
primary fact of our constitution.
Among the Senses have been here enroiled and
described with some degree of minuteness, the feelings
connected with the various processes of organic life,—
Digestion, Respiration, &c.—which make up so large
a part of individual happiness and misery.
A systematic plan has been introduced into the
description of the conscious states in general, so as
to enable them to be compared and classified with
more precision than heretofore. However imperfect
may be the first attempt to construct a Natural
History of the Feelings, upon the basis of a uniform
descriptive method, the subject of Mind cannot attain
a high scientific character until some progress has
been made towards the accomplishment of this object.
In the department of the Senses, the Instincts, or
primitive endowments of our mental constitution, are
fully considered; and in endeavouring to arrive at the
original foundation, or first rudiments, of Volition,
a theory of this portion of the mind has been sug-
gested.
In treating of the Intellect, the subdivision into
faculties is abandoned. The exposition proceeds
entirely on the Laws of Association, which are ex-
exemplified with minute detail, and followed out into
a variety of applications. |
—_——
ae,
Lonpon, June, 1855.
PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION.
d Nie edition has been thoroughly revised, and in
many places re-written. Although I have not
seen reason to change any of my leading views on
the subject of mind, I hope I may have succeeded
in improving the statement and exposition of them.
It is in the first part of the work where most
alteration has been made. The explanations of the
Nervous system and the Senses have been amended
according to the best recent authorities on Physi-
ology. The Definition of Mind has been somewhat
differently expressed.. The systematic plan of de-
scribing the Feelings has been modified, and all the
detailed descriptions re-cast. An attempt has been
made to generalize the Physical accompaniments of
Pleasure and Pain. The Instinctive foundations of
Volition are stated more explicitly.
In the second part, the Introduction to the Intel-
lect has been revised, with a view to rendering as
precise as possible the natural subdivisions of this
portion of the mind. The doctrine referring to the
physical seat of revived impressions has been discussed
anew, and applied to clear up the difficulties attending
the explanation of Sympathy. The associating prin-
ciple of Contrast has, on farther consideration, been
V1 PREFACE.
treated as the reproductive aspect of Discrimination,
or Relativity.
The origin of our notions of Space and Time has
been more minutely traced; and some additions have
been made to the handling of the great Metaphysical
problem, relating to the External World.
ABERDEEN, February, 1864.
PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION.
N this third edition, the work has again been sub-
jected to a thorough revision, involving numerous
amendments both in matter and in style.
The sketch of the Nervous System, and the Physio-
logical references generally, have been compared with
the statements given in the newest works. The Reflex
Actions, illustrating the Will, by contrast and by re-
semblance, are more fully and systematically discussed.
In the Intellect, the fundamental conditions, both
of Retentiveness and of Similarity, have been set
forth with greater precision; whereby clearness is
gained in following out the details of those great
leading functions. |
The value of the work is greatly enhanced by an
account of the Psychology of Aristotle, which has been
contributed by Mr. Grote. The chief significance of
Aristotle’s views, at the present day, lies in his recog-
nizing, in an almost unqualified manner, the double-
sidedness of the mental states.
ABERDEEN, September, 1868. .
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
INTRODUCTION.
CHAPTER I.
DEFINITION AND DIVISIONS OF MIND.
1. Mind opposed to the Extended
2. Mind has three properties,—Feeling, Wolnion: Thought
3. Elucidation of these properties ‘ :
4, Classifications of Mind.—Understanding a ‘Will; Thteilotnal
Powers and Active Powers; Brown’s division ; Hamilton’s;
Dr. Sharpey’s ea :
5. Plan of the present volume we ae aA
6. Statement of the fundamental law of Relativity re os
GHA RPE Re IT.
THE NERVOUS SYSTEM.
1. Connexion of mental processes with bodily organs .. ae
2. Proofs that the Brain is the principal organ of Mind i.
Connexion of size of brain with mental energy a oe
3. Parts of the NERVOUS SYSTEM Ye we ar se
THE NERVOUS SUBSTANCE.
4, Nervous substance of two kinds, white and grey
Nerve jidres and nerve vesicles
THE NERVOUS CENTRES.
. Enumeration of parts of the Cerebro-spinal eentre
. Detailed description ‘rc
(1.) The Medulla Oblongata ie re oe a
(2.) The Pons Varolt ss ‘F “e ve
Pace.
ab.
oO
10
4b,
1b.
13
tb.
1b.
17
19
tb.
20
Vill CONTENTS, —
eo
se
(3.) The Cerebrum “ Ay os ve
Cerebral Hemispheres fe ae ws
Smaller masses of the cerebrum he +
(4.) The Cerebellum ee oe ve ve
7. Internal Structure of the Brain .. ne “5
White part of the Brain ° es te
Three systems of fibres “eA we we
Grey matter of the brain ? re oe
8. Plan of Structure indicated by the arrangement of white and
grey substance : Ay AL
Note on the Bympatnies Siem oe 6
THE CEREBRO-SPINAL NERVES.
9. Nature of the ramifying nerve cords 4 oe
FUNCTIONS OF THE NERVOUS SYSTEM.
Functions of the Nerves
10. Division into Spinal and Cerebral Nerves .v ap
Anterior and posterior roots of Spinal Nerves ra
il. The Function of a nerve isto transmit influence fe
12. Sentient and Motor roots of spinal nerves .. a
13. Cerebral Nerves 56 hy 3
Functions of the Spinal Cord and Meduila Oblongata.
14. Spinal Cord nt : ie a
Necessary to sensation nnd moverant | in the trunk and extremi-
ties of the body ae Ae 43
A centre of Movements not i os oe
Tonicity of the Muscles .. e oe “s
15. Medulla Oblongata we ar oe a
Functions of the lesser grey centres of the Brain.
16. Pons Varolit KS 4: Ye ws ud
Rotatory movements caused by injuries of parts of the brain
17. Corpora Quadrigemina we ae oe os
18. Optict Thalami .. = ae ae Ae
19. Corpora Striata .. 5. A os “
Functions of the Cerebral Hemispheres.
20. Experiments on the convolutions .. Bs os
Functions of the Cerebellum.
21. Harmonizing and co-ordinating the locomotive movements
Pace.
20
21
22
24
26
ib.
tb.
y+ |
29
30
32
ib.
33
ab.
35
37
38
40
41
42
43
44
ib.
ab.
45
46
22.
23.
Or me © bO
CONTENTS.
Of the Nerve Force and the Course of Power in the Brain.
Nerve force is of the nature of a current
Experiments showing the community of nature igen it si
electricity :
Waste of nerve fibre by ine act of radnetion
Rate of propagation of the nerve-force
. Nerve-force derived from the common source of patra power,
the Sun
. Impropriety of looking on ave Bran as a Sereormnn
A current action is involved in every exertion of the ei
Immediate source of nerve force, the blood .. ae $s
MOVEMENT, SENSE, AND INSTINCT.
Reasons for including Appetites and Instincts in the same
department with the Senses as cies “a: me
CHAPTER I.
SPONTANEOUS ACTIVITY AND THE FEELINGS OF
MOVEMENT.
. Feelings connected with Movement, a distinct class .. ee
Their consideration to precede the Senses
OF THE MUSCULAR SYSTEM.
. Muscular Tissue 7 cp 4s ss as
. Sensibility of Muscle en =p ae a
. Irritability or Contractility of Muscle ns ‘ oe
. Tonicity, or Tonic Contraction of muscle .. tie oe
PROOFS OF SPONTANEOUS ACTIVITY.
. Movements anterior to, and independent of, Sensation 2
Proofs that there are such movements
(1.) Tonicity of the muscles .. : es
(2.) Permanent closure of the sphincter es oe
(3.) Activity maintained by involuntary muscles Ae
(4.) Act of wakening from sleep
(5.) Early movements of infancy ts ose o.
(6.) Activity under excitement
(7.) The active temperament .. os Ae
(8.) Growth of Volition a Ay py"
PAGE.
48
49
50
ab.
52
ab.
53
57
59
ab.
62
ab.
63
64
ab.
ab,
ab.
65
ab.
67
69
ab.
70
~I
10.
4
12.
13.
14,
15.
16.
17.
18.
19.
20.
21.
24.
CONTENTS,
Legions of Spontaneous Activity.
- The muscles act in groups, or systems “it As es
Locomotive apparatus os Bh te ee
Vocal organs oe ‘ eo oe ee
Movements of the face, areats and jaw < ee
Special aptitudes of animals .. 395 ve ee
OF THE MUSCULAR FEELINGS.
. The Natural History of the Feelings, a part of the Science of
Mind. Method and order of description - os
. Classification of Feelings of Movement 5: oe ‘e
I. Feelings of Muscular Exercise.
Feeling of Muscular Exercise generally .. ss se
. Physical side .. oe a8 oe oe oe
Mental side es ° a oe a
Examples of the Dead Strain igs os ar es
Muscular tension with Movement .. os oe ar
Slow Movements re. : ss as
Movements gradually increasing or idimtneanine Ary oe
Quick Movements nes as LG ‘ ae
Feeling of loss of support a 5 is es
Passive movements a a ye ris oe
II. Perceptions grounded in the Muscular Feelings.
Discrimination of degrees and modes of muscular exertion ..
Consciousness of Exertion or expended force—sense of Resist-
ance, force, inertia .. ay s se
. Examples of the feeling of verteneel Momentum. Weight...
23.
Consciousness of the Continuance of a muscular exertion. KEsti-
mate of Time. Means of estimating Extension os
Consciousness of the degree of Velocity of movements oe
Consciousness of the state of contraction of a muscle. Note ,.
Sir W. Hamilton’s distinction between the locomotive faculty
and the muscular sense. Note 40 ae ee
OTA Palen Bae 1.
OF SENSATION.
Sensations of the five Senses on & me os
Common or general sensibility
Propriety of constituting the feelings of Or gAate Life kirtot a
class of sensations .. ; . ee .
Emotional and Intellectual Bone a. as ve
PAGE.
70
71
ab.
72
ab,
76
ib.
80
84
85
ab.
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
94
97
98
99
101
102
103
16,
Co
10.
1%}
12.
13,
14.
15.
16.
If.
18.
19.
20.
21.
22.
23.
24.
25.
CONTENTS.
SENSATIONS OF ORGANIC LIFE.
. Classification according to locality, or seat ..
Of Organie Muscular Feelings.
. Organic pains of muscle,—cuts, lacerations, injuries of the
tissue; Bodily origin and manifestations oe
. Mental characters:—Acute pains in general typified, Avs
described .. ae ; oa oP
. Cramp or spasm, its physical Nate: at mental character-
istics ee ee se ne ve
. Over-fatigue, and ittiee: tune Py, ae He
. Sensibility of the Bones and Ligaments __., se oe
Organic Sensations of Nerve.
. Nervous pains, Their consideration complicated _., °.
. Nervous fatigue; Ennui .. oe ar
. Feeling of the healthy and fresh cunditinn of the nerve tissue.
Stimulants .. o x be 7s
Organic Feelings of the Circulation and Nutrition.
Thirst ; Starvation ; pleasures of pure animal existence as
Feelings of Respiration.
Respiratory process os i ee we
Feelings of pure air; Freshness ; feelings of ‘Relief an
Feelings of nendioent and impure air; Suffocation e-
Feelings of Heat and Cold
Physical effects of heat and cold. The sensation of Cold ee
Sensation of Heat a oe oe oe ee
Sensations of the Alimentary Canal.
Objects of the Sense :—Materials of food .. or o
General view of the Organs of digestion ..
Summary of the Physiology of digestion ..
Alimentary Feelings: taking of food and healthy dieeetion
Hunger oe an ee és oe ve
Nausea and Disgust ce os oe os we
Feelings of deranged digestive organs ae ce ee
Feelings of Electrical States.
Electric and Voltaic shocks oe i. He ee
Electrical state of the Atmosphere MY we
Baron Reichenbach’s experiments 20 ee aD
PAGE.
104
106
109
110
8
112
113
114
116
117
118
119
120
122
128
125
126
128
129
130
132
134
135
X11 CONTENTS.
SENSE OF TASTE.
1. Bodies acting on the sense of Taste sie se
2. Organ of Taste ;—description of the Tongue a ’
3. Local distribution of the sensibility of the tongue .. .
4, Mode of action in taste .. “e ° oe ee
5. Sensations of Taste ; complex sensibility of ie tongue as
6. Order of Giasetesaen iS ~ ee sy" r
7. Relishes a * ts rs os
8. Disgusts “(s ae oe *>
9. Sweet tastes pel aeemiian of feeling of Sy dations Ws oe
10. Bitter tastes Arg A As mi AP .
11. Saline tastes oe o* AS ee ve e
12. Alkaline tastes .. se Ss a :
13. Sour, or acid tastes we ae iy oe e
14. Astringent tastes oe a He oe oe
15. Fiery tastes “A a 8 ve ve
16. Intellectual aspect of beatae as nt oe
SENSE OF SMELL.
1. Objects of Smell a ee oP oe en
2. Production of odours is he a3 Ss .
3, Diffusion of odours ne : *
4, Organ of Smell :—description of the Nose ‘ .
5. Action of odours—the presence of oxygen necessary to athe, ve
6. Sensations of smell :—their classification .. oe ee
7. Fresh odours... 2 _ sis +a as
8. Close or suffocating sone ea an ce oe
9. Nauseous odours se o°
10. Sweet or fragrant odours: a ention of awouens >
11. Bad odours ie ae ee iis ee oe
12. Pungent odours i 2a o. or ee
13. Ethereal odours Be xe oe ee oe
14. Appetizing odours Gs “ se os oe
15. Flavour 4 na ae oe ee ee
16. Uses of Smell .. ma pte x ne ee
SENSE OF TOUCH.
1. Position assigned to Touch ah Saar aa Touch an intel-
lectual sense ; es ; oe ee
2. Objects of Touch 4 ar ve ee
3. Organ of Touch :—the Skin .> oe : ys
4. Functions and vital properties of the skin .. mt .
5. Mode of action in touch .. is .
6. Sensations :—(I.) Emotional Sensttionsecsiar Touch a
. Pungent and painful sensations of touch .. as
PAGE:
136
138
140
141
ab.
142
143
144
145
ib.
ab,
146
ab.
147
1b.
149
150
ab.
152
153
154
156
ab.
ab.
156
157
158
ab.
159
1b,
161
162
165
166
167
168
CONTENTS.
. Other painful sensations of the skin—Tickling
. (II.) Sensations of Temperature (Intellectual)
10,
(III.) The Intellectual Sensations of Touch proper :—(1.) jae
pressions of distinguishable Points—Weber’s observations
11. (2.) Sensations of Pressure me Ae Pe
12. (IV.) Sensations of Touch involving neers perceptions :—
Weight, Pressure, Resistance ; Elasticity ; Roughness, and
Smoothness; increase of sensibility by movement
13. Extension ;—movement by itself inadequate to give the Motion
of Extended Matter, or of Space. How the sense of Touch
contributes to this perception. Elements of the contrast
between the Successive and the Co-existing. Lineal ex-
tent ; superficial extent; solid extent .. %- *
14. Distance, Direction, Situation, Form a ae ai
15. Accompaniment of activity in the senses generally .. ae
16. Touch concerned in handicraft operations .. ve fi
17. How far Touch can be a substitute for sight ee eo
18. Subjective feelings of Touch oe Sis ee se
SENSE OF HEARING.
1. Objects of Hearing pay bs te as Or
2. The Ear os as
3. Action of the parts of the 6 ear in ae Ute time of spit 4
4, Sensations of Sound ; their classification .., oe a
5. Sweetness se .e ye os ee os
6. Intensity or Loudness: Suddenness a °° ee
7. Volume or Quantity “e ce o- oe i
8. Pitch, or Tune .. . oe . ye ee
9. Waxing and waning of A ite as ne ee or
10. Complexity: Discord and Harmony Be oe Ge
11. Timbre ws 0 ae As
12. Articulate sounds. Helmholtz’ 8 Pepe engin of the vowel sounds
13. Distance re oc 00 oe ae ee
14. Direction oe of oe a oe
15. Duration of an impression of anti “ 3 ii
16. Subjective sensations of sound Ge aS os Wy
SENSE OF SIGHT.
1. Objects of Sight “5 ne eh a
2. The Eye oe a Ws +
3. Conditions of perfect vision ie ys
4. Adaptation of the eye to vision at different Benes oe
5. Of single vision with two eyes. Binocular Vision SW heations s
co
experiments
. Erect vision from inverted images .. 5.3 a ne
xlil
Pace.
169
170
172
176
177
181
186
188
189
ab.
ab,
199
ib.
194
196
197
198
199
200
wb.
201
202
203
204
205
206
XiV CONTENTS.
7. Sensations of Sight os re a
8. Sensation of mere Light .. v " ae
9. Colour . oe ea es oe ‘e a
10. iAtificial lights .. oe : oe
11. Lustre.—Explanation of the cause of Pees a
12. Complex sensations of sight. Optical and Muscular Setotis
combined .. As ae * ws
13. Visible Movements :—pleasures of eae movement; per-
manent imagery of the intellect A : os
14. Visible Form :—the distinction between pace! and the
simultaneous, or Co-existence in Space at
15. Apparent size ;—exceeding delicacy of our discrimination of
retinal magnitude a oe oe
16. Distance, or varying remoteness .. oY .
17. Visible Movements and Visible Forms in three diinenaonees
Volume 5 oe
18. Extent of the intellectual i ini steve bieden fii eye
CHAPTER IIL
OF THE APPETITES.
1. Appetite, a species of Volition. Enumeration of Appetites ..
2. Sleep .. ve .s 4 i os
3. Exercise and Repose z ¥t as < an
4, Thirst and Hunger ey = ve oe nH
5. Appetite of the Sexes _ es ee we oy
6. Accustomed Routine of life * ae e- es
7. Appetite liable to give false indications og : vs
CHAPTER IV.
OF THE INSTINCTS.
1. Definition of Instinct 463 1 ae ie
2. Enumeration of instinctive or Pitre arrangements +8
THE REFLEX ACTIONS.
3. The Reflex, Automatic or Involuntary Actions defined; their
nervous centres s eo
I. The Reflex Actions governing the eae siooheees through
the involuntary muscles :— Rhythm of the heart. Vaso-motor
action—its influence on the secretions and the excretions.
Movements of the intestines; Deglutition—its three stages ;
Colic and Diarrheea ; Sonate iy re ae
PAGE.
226
ab.
229
ab.
230
ab.
231
234
236
237
238
ib.
240
241
242
244
vb.
246
ab.
247
CONTENTS.
II. Reflex Actions affecting organic processes through the volun-
tary muscles ;—Respiration; coughing; sneezing ; sucking
ITI. Reflex Actions affecting the organic functions by the medium
of the cerebro-spinal centres and the involuntary muscles;
—Salivation ; flow of tears ; winking of the eye ; movements
of the iris .. oe ee ve oe
IV. Reflex Actions scivalvitie voluntary muscles stimulated by
the cerebro-spinal centres ;—movements of the ciliary
muscle ; movements in the ear ; reflex movements of the
senses generally :
Actions improperly maid ada the denuiecon Y Reflex’
Most general laws at present attainable regarding Reflex Action
Resemblances between Reflex Action and Voluntary Action
THE PRIMITIVE COMBINED MOVEMENTS.
4. The locomotive rhythm. Proofs of the instinctive eee of this
combination : we as
5. It implies an arrangement for reciprocating each ay a
6. Also an alternate movement of corresponding limbs .. cs
7. Lastly, a vermicular propagation of movement
8. Associated or consensual movements.—Associated actions of the
two eyes on
9. Law of harmony of state of the Loti sppieinn ne ¢
10. One sense instinctively acting for another
THE INSTINCTIVE PLAY OF FEELING.
11. Movements and effects diffused under Feeling. Miller on
‘Movements due to the passions of the mind’
12. Sir Charles Bell on the Movements of the face oe
13. Muscles of the face concerned in expression.—Muscles of the
Eye-brow .. is e de ae
14. Muscles of the Nose ay “
15. Muscles connected with the Ae eT of the Mouth
16. The Voice, Diaphragm, and the muscles generally, as affected
under Feeling .
17. Organic effects of Feeling.—The Tecievinan Gland, the Saciial
Organs, the Digestive Organs, the Skin, the Heart, the
Lungs, and the Lacteal Gland in women ma
18. Pleasure connected with an increase, and Pain with an apAtentint
of the vital functions. Examples from the agents of pleasure
and pain
19. The manifestations of foating coneieeeed wih reatanee to the
foregoing principle. The existence of specific muscles of
pain accounted for. The lively manifestations of acute pain
20. Laughter and Sobbing .. es a “ rs
XV
Pace,
256
257
259
261
262
263
265
266
ab,
268
270
271
273
275
276
277
279
280
282
286
290
Xv1 CONTENTS.
21.
22.
23.
24.
25.
26.
27.
28.
29.
30.
él.
32.
33.
34.
30.
. Statement of the law ee ie e a
Exceptions to the principle that connects Pleasure with increased
vitality “s
A principle of Ri@ulaGon must an be adeaeedn pe ature
stimulants of the Senses; Narcotics .. ¥e
Stimulation might be considered the sole tenis me it is
better to allow both principles. Country and city life
THE INSTINCTIVE GERM OF VOLITION.
Spontaneous actions at the foundation of the will. Miiller on
the first commencement of voluntary acts
Spontaneity by itself insufficient. Voluntary command of the
organs not instinctive oe ee
Primordial connexion between feelings and cat phi: Pern,
law that connects pleasure with increased energy
Examples from the effects of pain .. Ae ys oe
Sucking in the infant. Relief from pain .. ros oe
Instinct of self-preservation a mode of volition = 2.
THE VOICE.
Anatomy of the organ of voice os 45 2
Muscles of the larynx .. oe 4 oe *°
The larynx as an instrument of sound aS ee oe
The articulate voice. Vowel utterance. Consonants—their
formation and classification
Mental phenomena of voice os a
Sensibility to degrees of vocal tension ee ne Pa
INTELLECT.
Fundamental attributes of Thought or Intelligence es
Consciousness of Difference—Law of Relativity es
Retentiveness 5 oe oe
Consciousness of A preomten te! or ? Siintlarity os As
Uses of the scicntific discussion of the intellectual powers...
CHAPTER L
RETENTIVENESS—LAW OF CONTIGUITY.
MOVEMENTS.
. Effects of repetition on the spontaneous and the instinctive
actions ee ee oe ee ee °
Paar.
292
293
295
298
300
301
302
305
306
309
310
313
316
wb.
321
td.
323
324
325,
327
328
10.
Li.
12.
13.
14.
15.
16.
ifs
18.
19,
20.
21.
22.
24.
26.
26.
27.
28.
CONTENTS.
. Acquisition of aggregates and trains of movements .. sie
. Conditions regulating the pace of acquisition :—General condi-
tions, I, Continuance or Repetition; II. Mental Concentra-
tion; IJJ. Adhesiveness of the individual constitution on
the Ss oe
. Conditions special to Msvementa (1) Bodily Strenatne @)
Spontaneity ; (3) Muscular Discrimination ve :
IDEAL FEELINGS OF MOVEMENT.
. Transition from the actual to the ideal Pe
7. What is the seat of muscular and other feelings foanistinis after
the fact ? ae
. Seat of revived i pereesione the same as that of the Seuirnia! —
Examples from Movement... on be ee
. Examples from the Senses nS tea * aa
Emotions and Passions ..
The tendency of an idea to erste the shite is an te
power of the mind, and interferes with the will
The tendency exemplified in Fear, and in other instances
Sympathy is our acting out the idea of other men’s pains and
pleasures .. ee ae
Ambition is often of the eeters ay a sien idea ae a
Bearings of the foregoing doctrine ny a oe
Association of Feelings of Movement Rie as oe
Examples from the acquirements of Speech
Circumstances favouring the cohesion of feelings of recat
SENSATIONS OF THE SAME SENSE.
Association of sensations of the same sense with one another
Effect of repetition on individual sensations ae we
Sensations of Touch oe
Sensations of Hearing.—The ear Tas to be ime te indiviiiadl
sounds; Successions of sounds :—music, articulation, elo-
cution oe
. Sensations of Sight : ee Gieblind Bei eade—scienitatiel abbiitaig and
artistic 28 oe oe or ve
Coloured Surfaces a és es oe
Conditions of the retention of veal appearances
In the early operations of Intellect, all its three functions are
blended ve
The cumulative operation of Contiguity infeinuptod ne divetsity
of combination ie ve oe
The vastness and complicacy of th? sense acquisitions could nel
be overcome without the system of patching
Xvll
Pace,
330
3383
300
336
337
338
340
341
1b.
343
344
ab.
345
046
ab,
347
348
349
350
352
354
358
359
ab,
360
XV CONTENTS.
29.
30.
31.
32.
30.
34,
35.
36.
37.
38,
39.
40,
41.
42.
43.
44,
45.
SENSATIONS OF DIFFERENT SENSES.
Movements with Sensations :—language of command
Muscular ideas with Sensations :—Architectural associations
Sensations with Sensations / ss is
Rate of adhesiveness in heteropanegn association .. ve
OF EXTERNAL PERCEPTION.—THE MATERIAL WORLD.
Metaphysical problems connected with Perception
Perception of the Distances and Magnitudes of External pone:
—Perceptions resulting from the eye alone oe
Distance and Magnitude imply other organs than the eye.
Berkeley’s theory of vision; criticism of objections urged
against it .. : 45 one 35 ar
Meaning or import of Bstertion ve
Extension the result of an association of iedted atiocka: The
opposing views: Hamilton .. Xe -. ee
Perception and Belief of the Material World.
Questions as to the independent existence of matter ..
(1.) No knowledge possible except in reference to our BREA,
(2.) The sense of the external implies our own energies
(3.) Our experience connects certain changes of sensation
with the consciousness of certain movements
(4.) Experience furnishes the materials of our belief in
what actually takes place s a ee
(5.) Suggestions of a plurality of senses : ie
(6.) Externality means what is common to us th others.
The external world. The meaning of the sentiens
and the senswm
Process of perceiving the true Magnitude aa Distance nee an
object from the ocular adjustment and extent of image on
the retina :—Wheatstone’s experiments; the increased in-
clination of the eyes suggests diminished size
The appreciation of Distance follows the estimate of Mnaenitarde.
Reid on the signs of distance furnished by degrees of colour
and distinctness, and by intervening objects. Note
Perception of Solidity through the presentation of dissimilar
pictures to the two eyes. Binocular Vision ar
Perception of Solidity implied in the perception of dictunon
Question as to the line of visible direction of objects
Localization of bodily feelings:—Our own body is to us an
external object ; the localizing of feelings is acquired
Associated differences in sensations. Hypothesis to account for
the localizing of our feelings of Touch and Sight. Note
Associated differences in the muscular feelings. Hamilton’s
theory of the inverse relation between Sensation and Per-
ception. Note % an fs se =
Pace.
360
361
362
363
ob.
366
371
376
tb.
376
378
379
382
384
386
388
392
394
396
sor
46,
47,
48.
49,
58.
59.
CONTENTS.
ASSOCIATIONS WITH FEELING.
The element of Feeling may be allied with objects .. -
Association of special emotions with objects:—Objects of affec-
tion; associates with irascible passion; overflowings of
egotistic emotion as
Love of money ; passion for pacing) adeeb oe
Alisonian theory of Beauty :—Distinction between “ents:
and associated effects; Sublimity and Beauty of sounds;
associated effects of Forms; Fitness and Ease in machinery
. Reading of Emotional expression :—The meaning of a smile or
a frown acquired. Pleasure from the sight of the hap-
piness of others. Feelings of Moral Approbation and
Disapprobation Pe: e ie aE a3
ASSOCIATES OF VOLITION,
. Acquired nature of voluntary power. Things implied in the
voluntary command of the moving organs. Observations
on the early movements of two lambs. Note
. Voluntary acquisition exemplified by the case of Imitation
(1.) Imitation wanting in early infancy sf
(2. ) The power is progressive
(3.) Efforts of imitation are at the bata nnn
(4.) Imitation of the child’s own acts by others ..
(5.) Imitation follows spontaneity ‘f
(6.) It progresses with the acquired habits es He
(7.) Depends on the delicacy of the senses. Importance of
gaining the attention fe
NATURAL OBJECTS—AGGREGATES OF NATURAL QUALITIES,
. External objects affect us through a plurality of senses. Im-
portance of sensuous adhesiveness—the Naturalist
. Objects having uses, or related properties
NATURAL AND HABITUAL CONJUNCTIONS—STILL LIFE.
55. Variegated imagery of the world. Importance of a retentive-
ness for Colour
. Aggregates constituted by aPetoal fe pt eentkitormme ane Dia-
grams, Pictorial Sketches
. Conjunction of objects with their scientific neitios
SUCCESSIONS.
Successions and changes in nature :—Cycles ; Evolutions es
Natural persistence of mental movements once begun. Influ-
ence on the recovery of successions ce bi es
tix
Pace.
400
402
404
ab.
407
409
413
414
ab,
416
1b,
1b.
1b.
417
419
420
421
424
426
XX CONTENTS.
PAGE.
60. Successions of cause and effect. Case of human actions as causes 427
61. Action and reaction of man on man ? ie ee 428
62. Our knowledge of living beings made up in aca of those suc-
cessions. Susceptibility to the human presence “a 429
MECHANICAL ACQUISITIONS.
63. Conditions of mechanical acquirement :—(1) the active organ,—
the Muscles : (2) the Senses concerned ; (3) Taste, or liking,
as a motive to concentrated attention .. 480
64. Method of mechanical training :—Recruits in the ery ; the
apprentice in handicraft employment .. oe ve 432
VOCAL OR LINGUAL ACQUISITIONS.
65. Acquisition of Vocal music be we XG . 434
66. Speech .. s te ay! ah a ae ab.
67. The mother tongue <¥ sy ie hi oy 436
68. Foreign languages Aye A: - ie ne 457
69. Oratorical acquisition .. de hs bs As 10.
RETENTIVENESS IN SCIENCE.
70. The Oxssxcr Sciences. The abstract and the concrete Sciences 439
71. The Sussecr Sciences, or Mind. Inquiry into the nature of
the aptitude for the study of mind. Anti-subjective ten-
dencies to be overcome Fe uN ae 442
BUSINESS, OR PRACTICAL LIFE.
72. The higher branches of industry .. a ' AP 445
73. Management of human beings a a Ss ‘ ib.
ACQUISITIONS IN THE FINE ARTS.
74. Nature of Fine Art ;—qualities of the artist O ae 446
'(1.) Adhesiveness for the material of the art .. + 447
(2.) Special sensibility for the effects called artistic ‘- ib.
(3.) An artist a mechanical workman’ .. as ak ab.
HISTORY AND NARRATIVE.
75. Transactions witnessed :—their mode of adhesion .. as 448
76. Transactions givenin language na se np 449
OUR PAST LIFE.
77. The train of each one’s existence .. A: +. is 450
78. Our own actions ia
79,
80.
—
ok W b
CONTENTS.
Composite stream of our past life .. us i
General observations on the force of contiguous adhesion :—I.
Proofs of the fact of General adhesiveness; II. Superior
plasticity of early years; III. Temporary adhesiveness ;
cramming
CHAPTER IL
AGREEMENT—LAW OF SIMILARITY.
. Statement of the law. Knowledge involves the consciousness of
Agreement as well as the consciousness of Difference
. Mutual relation of Contiguity and Similarity
. Under Similarity there is supposed a defect of likeness
. The defectiveness is either Faintness or Diversity A
. The power of reviving like in the midst of unlike an ett
point of intellectual character, varying in individuals
FEEBLENESS OF IMPRESSION.
. In the case where one person identifies a faint sensible impres-
sion, and another does not, the difference may be accounted
for (1) by a greater natural delicacy in the Sense ; (2) greater
previous familiarity with the particular impression; (3) by
the habit of concentrating the attention on the subiect, in
other words, the acquired delicacy of the Sense. To these
local circumstances, may be added General power Z
Similarity
7. Feelings of Organic Life saaitifiod D Aeateneas't in Hae Peepect
8. Identification of Smells ; ‘ we :
9. Hearing. Influence of familiarity ; oa
10. Identification of objects of Sight under dimness a va
11. Acuteness of sense in the Indians a vs vs
12. The scent of the dog “E ak a ve
16. Tastes .. oe Pr “8 2 v3 nb
Cc
XX1
PAGE.
453
ab,
457
458
460
461
wb.
462
463
464
465
ab.
466
467
468
471
472
XXil CONTENTS.
Lis
18.
19.
20.
. Sensations of Sight
23.
24,
20.
26.
24
28.
30.
ol.
32.
34.
Identity of a common effect from different causes; Classifica-
tion, and its consequences
Touches :
Hearing. Musical and artianlate identihesona s in tis midst of
diversity .. ‘
The ear as concerned in language ..
Identification of Colours ; gree os
Generalization of Forms—Mathematical pats ss
Arbitrary Forms—written Language an oe
Peculiarities of the verbal mind in general
Artistic Forms ae a ss ae ss
Scenes of Nature, &c. SS
Visible Movements “i 5 yar
. Properties common to sensations of fterent senses .. e.
CONTIGUOUS AGGREGATES,— CONJUNCTIONS.
Popular classification of natural objects. Re-classifying of
things already classified
Things affecting a plurality of Senses
Compounds of Sense and Association :—Objects leas Pei
their wses ; mechanical invention ; the steam engine
Natural objects identified on their EClntiA properties. Chemical
discoveries .. Sn a 5: ees
Classifications of the TaCeealiate Linneus. Analogies struck by
Goethe and Oken
The Animal Kingdom :—Improved BEAT L fomeroniee of
the skeleton; mental peculiarities of Oken ; enlargement
of our Paowiedge through the discovery of real identities
PHENOMENA OF SUCCESSION.
. Various modes of Succession. Of identities, some are real,
others illustrative .. oe
Identification among the different Sistene of successions: oie
Evolutions .. ee >
Successions of Human istueye : harioal comparisons
Institutional comparisons—the science of Society
Scientific causation : Newton’s discovery of universal ari
tion ; intellectual character of Newton a Si
REASONING AND SCIENCE IN GENERAL.
The different processes of Science :—AssTRACTION ; Controversy
of Nominalism and Realism .. we
. Inpuction: the inductive process demands he power of Simis
larity ; Inductions fitted into previously established for-
mulas; Laws of Kepler e a ade we
PaGr.
472
475
476
478
479
ab.
481
482
ab.
483
a.
484
486
488
490
491
494
496
497
500
ab,
503
506
506
36.
37.
38.
39.
40.
41.
42.
43.
44,
45.
46.
47.
48,
49,
50.
51.
CONTENTS.
Depvcrion :—transfer or extension of properties to new cases;
Newton on the diamond; given an obscure case to find a
principle to illuminate it; Franklin’s identification of
lightning and electricity os ye oe
Reasoning by Analogy .. ve ye a4
The explanation of the Reasoning Faculty
BUSINESS AND PRACTICE.
Inventions in the arts:—James Watt; Administration of public
and private business; Extension to new cases of devices
already in use 3 ce be % ar
Persuasion a ay
ILLUSTRATIVE COMPARISONS AND LITERARY ART.
Comparison an aid to intellectual comprehension:—Bacon ,.
Comparisons for ornament and effect :—the Orator and the Poet
Figures of speech implying comparison rf we es
THE FINE ARTS IN GENERAL.
Some of the Fine Arts mvolve the intellect largely .. we
The less intellectual Arts; Intellect in the Fine Arts generally
SIMILARITY IN ACQUISITION AND MEMORY.
Similarity, by tracing repetitions, shortens the labour of acquir-
ing new subjects we Ae ae oe
Examples from Science .. oa
Business acquisitions re oe
Case of the Artistic mind .
Contiguity tested only by eye and abeclae novel,
The Historical Memory Ae ey
Corea ET HR. + Di
COMPOUND ASSOCIATION.
. There may exist in any one case a plurality of associations.
Statement of the law
COMPOSITION OF CONTIGUITIES.
. Contiguous conjunctions :—complex wholes and concrete objects
. Connexion with locality and with persons. Searching for
things lost ..
XX1l
Pace,
518
522
528
529
532
535
534
535
537
538
540
541
542
644
545
546
XXIV CONTENTS.
4, Connexion of things with uses E 2c oe os
5. Successions :—the succession of Order in Time ee ve
6. Language ole a ye ee oo es
COMPOSITION OF SIMILARITIES.
7. Increase of points of resemblance .. oe * Se
8. Mixture of language and subject-matter .. Ps 4
MIXED CONTIGUITY AND SIMILARITY.
9. The identities struck by pure Similarity are afterwards recovered
by Similarity and Contiguity mixed .. : oe
10. Influence of proximity in bringing en a difficult sdennaceion
THE ELEMENT OF EMOTION.
11. An emotional state gives its character to the trains of recollection
12. The purely intellectual bonds are made subordinate in emotional
natures a On “i as ve
INFLUENCE OF VOLITION.
13. Modes whereby volition may operate in resuscitating the past
(1.) By the stimulus of excitement
(2.) By controlling the intellectual attention
THE SINGLING OUT OF ONE AMONG MANY TRAINS.
14. Concurrence of other suggesting circumstances with an object
before the view on os
15. Selection of one out of many meer of the same objéct
OBSTRUCTIVE ASSOCIATION.
16. Recollection obstructed by the mind’s being Sane with
something different é
17. Conflict of the Artistic and the Biientitic nodes of viewing the
world. Guessing of conundrums ss ee
ASSOCIATION OF CONTRAST.
18. Contrast is the reproductive phase of Discrimination or the Law
of Relativity
19. Contiguity and Similarity concur in Peraietie cpakraats os
20. Contrasts are often accompanied with Emotion
21. The power of Similarity, under the guise of Contrast, okt
the mind of contradictions
ee
PAGE.
548
549
651
652
558
554
555
556
ab.
557
658
ab.
560
562
563
564
wb.
566
567
568
bo
JI oO
oOo ©
10.
Tis
12.
13.
14.
15.
16,
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER LV.
CONSTRUCTIVE ASSOCIATION.
. There is in the mind a power of original construction .. oe
MECHANICAL CONSTRUCTIVENESS.
. Complex acts acquired by taking the simple acts separately.
The three conditions of constructiveness generally
VERBAL CONSTRUCTIVENESS.
. Constructiveness in Speech. Illustration of Volition as an
element in constructiveness
. Fulfilment of the conditions of grammar, &e. Necessity of a
large stock of vocables
FEELINGS OF MOVEMENT.
. Construction of non-experienced ideas of Weight, Range, &c.
The Associations of Architecture
CONSTRUCTIVENESS IN THE SENSATIONS.
. Forming by combination new states of Organic Feeling
. Tactual constructions. Disassociation y ‘y
. States of Hearing the result of a combining effort
. Constructiveness in Sight
CONSTRUCTION OF NEW EMOTIONS.
Elementary emotions of human nature must be experienced.
Changing the degree of a known feeling
Combining of two emotions so as to bring out a third. Wrnnipiie
CONCRETING THE ABSTRACT.
Given the abstract properties of an Rarer to conceive the object
itself ee xe
The farther abstraction is eat the more difficult it is to
remount to the concrete a3 Py. sr ‘3
REALIZING OF REPRESENTATION OR DESCRIPTION.
The methods of representation
Verbal description ‘
Maxim of the describing art in prey pata cbeabine a tone
with an enumeration ..
XXV
PAGE.
570
571
572
574
576
578
579
581
ib.
583
585
588
ab.
589
XXV1 CONTENTS.
CONSTRUCTIVENESS IN SCIENCE.
17. Constructiveness in Abstract ideas .. ie ae as
18. Induction .. a
19. Processes of Deduction ; eet ans of eaeiertine 5 <
20. Experimental science vs ve as ee ->
PRACTICAL CONSTRUCTIONS.
21. Region of practical inventions. The turn for experimenting, an
attribute of inventors: Kepler, Herschel, Daguerre
22. The mental quality termed soundness of Judgment. The
power of adaptation to complicated conditions .. os
FINE ART CONSTRUCTIONS.—IMAGINATION.
23. The presence of an emotional element in intellectual combina-
tions. Distinction between the constructions of Imagina-
tion and the constructions of science and of practice. Note
24. Combinations ruled by emotions:—Terror, Anger .. are
25. Superstructures reared on Egotistic feeling .. 49 es
26. Constructions to satisfy the emotions of Fine Art properly so
called oe are
27. The artist’s standard is in ‘feeling of the effect Ppetinced a
28. Reconciliation of Art with Nature; the regard due to truth by
an artist 3 se
we > ae
APPENDIX.
PSYCHOLOGY OF ARISTOTLE.
The Pyschology of Plato was based on his Kosmology .. oe
Plato’s location of the divisions of the soul in different bodily organs
Theories of the Soul according to other philosophers before Aristotle
Aristotle’s criticism of the current theories of his time .. me
Aristotle’s definition of Life, or the animating principle, which he
makes co-extensive with the Soul us a
The Aristotelian distinction of Form and Matter - ae
Farther distinction of Potentiality and Actuality “e
Matter is not necessarily Body
The Soul ranks with Form, not with Matter ; with the nerege ani
not with the Potential
Soul and Body are mutually correlated si a ‘
Every action and passion has a Formal side as regards the Soul, a
Material side as regards the Body: for example, anger ..
Soul comprises several varieties:—Nutritive; Sentient; Movent,
Appetitive, Imaginative, and Noétic .. a os
ee
PaGE.
591
593
594
ab.
599
600
603
605
606
608
611
612
614
616
619
620
622
623
624
626
626
628
CONTENTS.
The lowest or Nutritive Soui the basis of all the rest .,.
The Sentient Soul:—Sense Perception; the Common Darcervapics
—Motion, Rest, Number, es Magnitude
The Five Senses:—Vision .. : =F ss ee
Hearing :—Sound ; Voice
Smell and the Olfacients = bie of fs
Taste “ ay sf! $e se ve ee
Touch ,
What is the meaning Soe our perceiving “that we see or hele P es
The act of comparing sensations ee rr ve
We cannot perceive two distinct sensations at one Rone oe ee
The Noétic Soul :—Phantasy os He “s we
Memory a
Reminiscence ee 3 ee we ve oe
Association of Ideas Ze +e re
Highest form of the Noétic Bacalty, or N ous
Opinions of previous philosophers on Nous or Intellect
According to Aristotle, the grand region of Form is che Cameras
Bopy, the source of all varieties of Soul
It is the distinction of the Nous to be unrelated to our Cornet
agency, although not separable from all body. It exists in
perfection in the divine beings
By means of Nous, the Soul acquires an oven pputude for coe
nizing the Universal .
Nous occurs to a certain erent in the animals
Nous supervenes upon sensible perception; and is dependent ae
sensible images
The Nous is the place of Forms z
The Intellectus Agens and Intellectus Patiens ..
The Intellectus Patiens perishes with the body; the binteniaaties
Agens, or theorizing Nous, i is eternal
Nous apprehends the principia of Demonstration ; ascent of the nied
to general principles as we oe
The Emotions, Appetites and Desires .. oa a oe
Summary of the doctrine of the Soul oF oe ee
A.—Definition and Divisions of Mind ae Ee ue
B.—Physical Accompaniments of Pleasure and Pain ee a
C.—The Germs and the Development of Volition Ae by
D.—Seat of revived impressions ae a ee ed
E.—Perception of the Material World ee A
F.—Contiguous Association in the ideas of Natural Gbyeate ne
G.—Subjective studies and regards... *e we ee
H.—The Abstractions—Number, Time, and Space ia as
I.—Classifications of the Intellectual Powers .. Py me
XXVIII
PAGE.
629
631
634
635
637
639
640
642
ab.
643
644
645
647
649
ab.
650
651
664
666
667
668
671
675
676
678
682
685
689
692
ie 9 Hod elit : iriabcey hana
‘ey
et
Pepi 2it at 0
. .
4 at b
FORE ON.
j ai
Nd 5,
nbs
INTRODUCTION,
Cre aot res Berens
DEFINITION AND DIVISIONS OF MIND.
i (ree operations and appearances that constitute Minp
are indicated by such terms as Feeling, Thought,
Memory, Reason, Conscience, Imagination, Will, Passions,
Affections, Taste. But the Definition of Mind aspires :
comprehend in few words, by some apt generalization, the
whole kindred of mental facts, and to exclude everything of
a foreign character.
Mind is commonly opposed to Matter, but more correctly
to the so-called External World. These two opposites define
each other. ‘To know one is to know both. The External,
or, in more philosophical language, the Object, World is dis-
tinguished by the property called Extension, pertaining both
to resisting Matter, and to unresisting, or empty Space. The
Internal, or the Subject, World is our experience of every-
thing not extended; it is neither Matter nor Space. A- tree,
which possesses extension, is a part of the object world; a
pleasure, a volition, a thought, are facts of the subject world,
or of mind proper. / {
| Thus Mind is definable, in the first instance, by the method
of contrast, or as a remainder arising from subtracting the
Object World from the totality of conscious experience. It
happens that the Object World is easily defined or circum-
scribed ; the one well-understood property, Extension, serves
l
2 DEFINITION AND DIVISICNS OF MIND.
for this purpose. Hence the alternative, or the correlative
Mind, can be circumscribed with equal exactness. But this
negative definition, although precise, so far as it goes, fails to
indicate the full scope of the enquiry. Even after the sub-
stitution of the correcter phraseology,—Subject and Object:
for Internal and External,—we have to admit that Object
Experience is still conscious experience, that is, Mind ; and,
although the development of the object properties belongs to
other sciences, yet the foundations or beginnings of them must
be traced in mental science. Now, it has been found possible
to sum up all the properly mental phases in a small number
of general properties, whose enumeration (which is strictly
speaking a Division) is all that can be offered as a positive
Definition of Mind,_/
2. The phenomena of the Unextended, or Subject Mind,
are usually comprehended under three heads :-—
J. FEELING, which includes, but is not exhausted by, our
pleasures and pains. Emotion, passion, affection, sentiment
—are names of Feeling.
IT. VouTIon, or the Will, embracing the whole of our
activity as directed by our feelings.
Ill. Tuovucur, Intellect, or Cognition.
Our SENSATIONS, as will be afterwards seen, come partly
under Feeling, and partly under Thought.
‘The three classes of phenomena have each certain distinc-
tive characteristics, and the sum of all these is a definition of
mind, by a positive enumeration of its most comprehensive
qualities. There is no one fact or property that embraces all
the three. We may have a single name for the whole, as
Mind, the Subject, the Unextended, Self-Consciousness ; but
it does not follow that one general property shall exhaust the
whole. Volition is a distinct fact from Feeling, although pre-
supposing it ; and Thought is not necessarily implied in either
of the two other properties. |
3. A few remarks may here be offered, by way of elucid-
ating this threefold definition and division.
0 ee : é
(First. For a notion of what FEELING is, we must refer each
FEELING. 3
person to their own experience. The warmth felt in sunshine,
the sweetness of honey, the fragrance of flowers, the beauty of
a landscape, are so.many | known states of feeling.
Our pleasures and pains are all included under this
head ; but many other states, both simple and complex, that
are neutral as regards pleasure and pain, must also be re-
ferred to it. The entire compass of our Feelings could be
known only by an exhaustive enumeration ; from which also
we might expect to obtain a general definition of Feeling. It
is not requisite at this stage that we should either classify the
feelings, or arrive at their common or defining properties. It
so happens, that we can readily circumscribe this part of our
mental being, by that negative method already exemplified in
the definition of mind as a whole: for the characters both of
thought and of volition are remarkably intelligible and pre-
cise, and therefore give us a ready means of laying down the
boundary of the remaining department.
We may, however, remark, before passing to the consider-
ation of the other divisions, that the presence of. Feeling is
the foremost.and most unmistakable mark of mind. ‘The
members of the human race agree in manifesting it. The
different orders of the brute creation show symptoms of the
same endowment. ‘The vegetable and mineral worlds are de-
void of it. True, it is each in ourselves that we have the
direct evidence of the state; no one person’s consciousness
being open to another person. But finding all the outward
appearances that accompany feeling in ourselves to be pre-
sent in other human beings, and, under some variety of de-
gree, in the lower animals, we naturally conclude their mental
state to be similar to our own. The gambols of a child,
the smile of joy, a cry on account of pain, and the corre-
sponding expressions for mental states common to all lan-
guages, prove that men in every age and nation have been
similarly affected. The terms for expressing pleasure and
pain in their various forms and degrees, are names of feel-
ings; joy, happiness, bliss, comfort, sorrow, misery, agony—
are a few examples out of this part of the vocabulary.
4 DEFINITION AND DIVISIONS OF MIND.
Secondly) All beings recognized as possessing mind can
not only feel, but also act. The putting forth of force to at-
tain some end marks a mental nature. Eating, running, fly-
ing, sowing, building, speaking—are operations rising above
the play of feeling. They all originate in some feelings to be
satisfied, which gives them the character of proper mental
actions. When an animal tears, masticates, and swallows
its food, hunts its prey, or flees from danger, the stimulus or
support of the activity is furnished by its sensations or feel-
ings. To this feeling- prompted activity we give the name
Volition.
~The characteristic of being stimulated by the feelings of
sentient beings makes a wide contrast between volition and
the energies familiar to us in nature,—the powers of wind,
water, gravity, steam, gunpowder, electricity, vegetation, &c.
For although the strong personifying tendency of mankind
has often compared these powers to a human will, yet in
reasoning about them scientifically no such comparison is ad--
mitted ; while, in the explanation of voluntary actions, the
reference to feeling and to thought is indispensable.
Volition is farther contrasted with such animal functions
as breathing, the circulation of the blood, and the movements
of the intestines. ‘These are actions, and serve a purpose, but
they are not mental actions. We could imagine ourselves so
constituted, that these processes would have had to be
prompted and controlled by sensations, emotions, and desires ;
they would then have been mental actions. As it is, they
form a class apart, denominated Reflex Actions. When nar-
rowly examined, they appear to shade by insensible degrees
into voluntary actions; but we are not on that account to
confound the broad and fundamental distinction between the
unconscious and the conscious, involved in the opposition of
the reflex and the voluntary.
It is impossible, in a brief preliminary sketch, to indicate
and discriminate all the varieties of animal activity. There
is a complication to be unravelled in this department of the
mind, such as to test severely the resources of mental science.
THOUGHT. 5
It is sufficient to remark, as the most general law of volition,
that pleasure prompts to action for its continuance, increase,
or renewal ; and that pain prompts to action for its cessation,
abatement, or prevention.
—
Soni is “TuoudHt, Tnteliiderice, or Cognition. This mathe
such functions as Memory, Reason, Judgment, and -Imagina-
tion. The first fact implied in it is Deer eanan or sense
of difference, shown by our being conscious of one sensation
as more intense than another, or when we are aware of two
feelings as differing in kind,—for example, taste and smell,
pain and pleasure, fear and anger. Another fact is Semilarcty,
or sense of agreement, which is interwoven with the preceding
in all the processes of thought. When we identify any sen-
sation or present mental impression with one that occurred
previously, there being an interval between, we exemplify the
power of similarity ; the sun seen to-day recalls our previous
impressions of his appearance. A third fact or property of
the Intellect is Retentiveness, commonly understood by the
familiar names ‘memory’ and ‘recollection.’ This power is
essential to the operation of the two former powers ; we could
not discriminate two successive impressions, if the first did
not persist mentally to be contrasted with the second; and
we could not identify a present feeling with one that had left
no trace in our framework. ) Retentiveness, which sums up
all that we designate by memory, acquisition, education,
habit, learning by experience, is not wanting in the lower
orders of sentient life. For an animal to have a home, a cer-
tain degree of memory is requisite.
We have seen that Volition is separated from Feeling, by
superadding the characteristic of action, or the putting forth
of energy to serve an end. And % now, after the foregoing
‘enumeration of Intellectual attributes, we can draw the line
between Thought and Feeling, which is to complete the defi-
nition of ene so far as is nme at the outset.
In proportion as a mental experience contains the facts
named discrimination, comparison, and_retentiveness, it is
6 DEFINITION AND DIVISIONS OF MIND.
‘an Intellectual experience ; and in proportion as it 1s want-
ing in these, and shows itself in pleasure or pain, it is of the
nature of Feeling. The very same state of mind may have
both an intellectual side and an emotional side; indeed, this
is a usual occurrence.) And, like many things that are radi-
cally contrasted, as day and night, these two distinct facts of
our nature pass into one another by a gradual transition, so
that an absolute line of separation is not always possible; a
circumstance that does not invalidate the genuineness of their
mutual contrast. |
The exercise of Thought is greatly mixed up with Volition
also, but there is rarely any difficulty in distinguishing the two
functions. Indeed, it is hardly possible for us to exist in one
exclusive state. Still, in our explanations of things, we often
require to separate in statement what is not separated in fact.
4, If we advert to the various classifications of the mental
phenomena that have hitherto passed current, we shall find
that the three attributes above specified have been more or
less distinctly recognized.
In the old division of mind into Understanding and Will,
the element of Feeling would appear to be left out entirely.
We shall find in fact, however, that the feelings are implied
in, or placed under, both heads. The same remark applies to
Reid’s classification, also twofold and substantially identical
with the foregoing, namely, into Intellectual Powers and Active
Powers. The submerged department of Feeling will be found
partly mixed up with the Intellectual Powers, wherein are
included the Senses and the Emotions of Taste, and partly
treated of among the Active Powers, which comprise the ex-
position of the benevolent and the malevolent Affections.
Dr. Thomas Brown, displeased with the mode of applying
the term ‘ Active’ in the above division, went into the other
extreme, and brought forward a classification where Feeling
seems entirely to overlie the region of Volition. He divides
mental states into Haternal affections and Internal affections,
By external affections he means the feelings we have by the
Senses, in other words, Sensation. The internal affections he
CLASSIFICATIONS OF MIND. vi
subdivides into Intellectual states of mind and Emotions. His
division therefore is tantamount to Sensation, Emotion, and
Intellect. All the phenomena commonly recognized as of an
active or volitional character, he classes as. a part of Emotion.
Sir William Hamilton, in remarking on the arrangement
followed in the writings of Dugald Stewart, states his own
view as follows :—‘If we take the Mental to the exclusion
of Material phenomena, that is, the phenomena manifested
through the medium of Self-consciousness or Reflection, they
naturally divide themselves into three categories or primary
genera ;—the phenomena of Knowledge or Cognition,—the
phenomena of Peeling or of Pleasure and Pain,—and the
phenomena of Conation or of Will and Desire.* Intelligence,
Feeling, and Will, are thus distinctively set forth.
I may farther notice the mode of laying out the subject
that has eccurred to an able physiologist. I quote a passage
intended as introductory to the Anatomy of the Nervous
System.
‘Of the functions performed through the agency of the nervous
system, some are entirely corporeal, whilst others involve pheno-
mena of a mental or psychical nature. In the latter and higher
class of such functions are first to be reckoned those purely intel-
lectual operations, carried on through the instrumentality of the
brain, which do not immediately arise from an external stimulus,
and do not manifest themselves in outward acts. To the same
class also belong sensation and volition. In the exercise of sensa-
tion, the mind becomes conscious, through the medium of the
brain, of impressions conducted or propagated to that organ along
the nerves from distant parts; and in voluntary motion, a stimulus
to action arises in the brain, and is carried outwards by the nerves
from the central organ to the voluntary muscles. Lastly, emotion,
which gives rise to gestures and movements, varying with the
different mental affections which they express, is an involuntary
state of the mind, connected with some part of the brain, and
influencing the muscles through the medium of the nerves.’+
* Collected Works of Dugald Stewart, Vol. II.: Advertisement by the
Editor,
+ Dr. Sharpey, in Quatn’s Anatomy, 6th edition, p. clxviii.
8 \ DEFINITION AND DIVISIONS OF MIND.
In this passage a quadruple partition is indicated,—Sen-
sation, Intellect, Emotion, and Volition. Sensation is raised
to the rank of a primary division. Except, however, as
regards one important point to be afterwards adverted to,
there is nothing in Sensation that does not come either under
Feeling, as above defined, or under Intellect.
5. In the plan of the present volume, Part first, entitled
‘Movement, Sense, and Instinct,’ will include the discussion
of both Feeling and Volition in their lower forms, that 1s,
apart from Intellect, or so as to involve Intellect in the least
possible degree; the Sensations of the different Senses will
form a leading portion of the contents. This division will
comprise all that is primitive or instinctive in the suscepti-
bilities and impulses of the mental organization. The second
Part will aim at a full exposition of the Intellectual pro-
perties.
Thus, while Feeling, Volition, and Intellect are regarded
as the ultimate properties and the fundamental classification
of mind, it is not proposed that the exposition should proceed
strictly in the order thus stated.
Although Feeling and Volition, in their elementary aspect,
can be explained before entering on the consideration of the
Intellect, while one large important department of Feeling,
namely, Sensation, is always considered as introductory to the
Intellectual powers, yet the full exposition of the Emotions
and the Active impulses of our nature properly comes last in
the systematic arrangement of the mind.
6. It is requisite at the outset to give some intima-
tion of a great mental law involved in the fundamental
property of Discrimination above noticed, namely, the law of
RELATIVITY. By this is meant that, as change of impression is
an indispensable condition of our being conscious, or of being
mentally alive either to feeling or to thought, every mental
experience is necessarily twofold. We can neither feel nor
know heat, except in the transition from cold. In every
feeling there are two contrasting states ; in every act of know-
ing, two things are known together. | oe |
LAW OF RELATIVITY. )
“eens
With reference to many of our feelings, mankind have
always to some extent recognized the working of this prin- *-
ciple. It is seen that the first shock of the transition from
one state to another—from sickness to health, poverty to
abundance, ignorance to knowledge—is the most intense, and
that as the memory of the previous condition fades away, so
does the liveliness of the emotion caused by the change.
Leisure, retirement, rest, are enjoyed only by contrast to pre-
vious toils. The incessant demands for novelty and change,
for constant advances in wealth, in knowledge, in the arrange-
ments of society, farther show the principle of Relativity as
applied to pleasure. /
ig { Language contains many names avowedly relative, as
parent, child ; ruler, subject; up, down ; north, south ; light,
dark ; virtue, vice. Ji is obvious that either name in those
couples: implies the other; there can be no ruler without a
subject. But, in reality, the principle of Relativity applies to _
everything that we are capable of knowing. Whatever we
can conceive implies some other thing or things also conceiv-
able, the contrast, co-relative, or negative of that. Red means
the exclusion of all the other colours. If we had never been
affected by any colour except red, colour would never have
been recognized by us. ‘When we speak of a fixed star, we
mean to exclude certain other things—the sun, planets,
comets, &. When we make an affirmation, ‘ the stars shine
by their own light, we also by implication make a denial,
‘the stars do not borrow their light.’)
The applications of this principle are numerous and im-
portant. It bears directly on the arts of human happiness ;
it is essentially involved in Fine Art; it must be attended to
in the communication of knowledge; in Metaphysics it con-
flicts with the doctrine of the Absolute. ‘(For farther remarks
on the Definition and Divisions of Mind, see APPENDIX A.) |
|
CHAPTER II.
THE NERVOUS SYSTEM.
1 Fee teen Subject and Object (Mind and Matter) are
the most diametrically opposite facts of our experi-
ence, yet there is a concomitance or connexion between mind
and a material organism. This position is best supported by
the subsequent details. (See also APPENDIX B.)
The parts of the human frame that chiefly concern the
student of mental science are the Nerves and Nerve Centres
(principally collected in the Brain), the Organs of Sense, and
the Muscular System. The organs of sense and of movement
will be described afterwards; a brief description of the
Nerves and Nerve Centres will occupy this preliminary
chapter, in which we shall confine ourselves as far as possible
to the facts bearing directly or indirectly upon Mind.
2. That the Brain is the principal organ of Mind is proved
by such observations as the following :—
(1.) From the local feelings that we experience during
mental excitement. In most cases of bodily irritation, we can
assign the place or seat of the disturbance. We localize in-
digestion in the stomach, irritation of the lungs in the chest,
toothache in the gums or jaws; and when the mental workings
vive rise to pain, we point to the head. In ordinary circum-
stances we have no local consciousness of mental action, but in
a time of great mental agitation, or after any unusual exertion
of thought, the aching or oppression in the head tells where
the seat of action is, precisely as aching limbs prove what
muscles have been exercised during a long day’s march. The
observation can occasionally be carried much farther; for it
is found that a series of intense mental emotions, or an exces-
sive strain on the powers of thinking, will end in a diseased
alteration of the substance of the brain.
THE BRAIN THE ORGAN OF MIND. 11
(2.) Injury or disease of the brain impairs in some way or
other the powers of the mind. A blow on the head will
destroy consciousness for the time ; a severe hurt will cause
a loss of memory. ‘The various disorders of the brain, as
inflammation, softening, &c., are known to affect the mental
energies. Insanity is often accompanied by evident cerebral
disease.
(3.) The products of nervous waste are increased when
the mind is more than ordinarily exerted. The alkaline
phosphates (triple phosphate of ammonia and magnesia)
removed by the kidneys are derived principally from the
waste of nervous substance ; and they are sensibly increased
after great mental exertion or excitement. Phosphorus
abounds more in the brain than in any other tissue.
(4.) There is an indisputable connexion between size of
brain and the mental energy displayed by the individual man
or animal. It cannot be maintained that size is the sole cir-
cumstance that determines the amount of mental force. But
just as largeness of muscle gives greater strength of body, as
a general rule, so largeness of brain gives greater vigour of
mental impulse. The measurements of the heads of remark-
able men have often been quoted. ‘All other circumstances
being alike, says Dr. Sharpey, ‘the size of the brain appears
to bear a general relation to the mental power of the
individual,—although instances occur in which this rule is
not applicable. The brain of Cuvier weighed upwards of 64
oz, and that of the late Dr. Abercrombie about 63 oz.
avoirdupois. On the other hand, the brain in idiots is
remarkably small. In three idiots, whose ages were sixteen,
forty, and fifty years, Tiedemann found the weight of their
respective brains to be 19 0z., 25} oz, and 223 oz.; and Dr.
Sims records the case of a female idiot twelve years old,
whose brain weighed 27 oz. The weight of the human brain
is taken at about 3 lbs. (48 02.).—Quain’s Anatomy, Vol. IL,
p-. 432.*
* In a paper by Mr. John Marshall, of University College, read be-
fore the Royal Society (June, 1863), the author gives a minute account of
12 THE NERVOUS SYSTEM.
'(5.) The specific experiments on the nerve cords and
nerve centres, to be afterwards quoted, have proved the im-
mediate dependence of sensation, intelligence, and volition on
those parts.
No fact in our constitution can be considered more certain
than this, that the brain is the chief organ of mind, and has
mind for its principal function. As we descend in the animal
scale, through Quadrupeds, Birds, Reptiles, Fishes, &c., the
nervous system dwindles according to the decreasing measure
of mental endowment.
three brains, one the brain of a Bushwoman, the others the brains of two
idiots of European descent. The Bushwoman’s brain was computed to have
weighed in the fresh state 315 oz. One of the idiots was a woman aged
forty-two years; she was able to walk, though badly, to nurse a doll, and to
say a few words; the weight of her brain was 10 oz. 5 grs. The other was a
boy of twelve; he could neither walk nor handle anything, nor articulate a
single word; the weight of his brain was 83 oz. These are the two smallest
idiot brains whose weight has been recorded.
Mr. Marshall enters into a very minute description of the structure of all
the three brains, and his remarks are valuable as showing what other defici-
encies, besides weight, attach to the brains of human beings of low mental
power. Not merely is the cerebrum in idiots a small organ, having all the
proper parts on a smaller scale, but these parts are fewer in number, less
complex, and different in relative proportion and position. And in particular,
the convolutions of the brain are much less developed, much simpler, than in
an average brain. On comparing the two idiots in question, the convolutions
of the woman were more developed than those of the boy.
The circumstance of inequality in the richness of the convolutions has
been alluded to by physiologists as explaining the cases of great mental power
allied with brains not above the average weight. Such differences have
actually been observed in the’examination of brains. The brain of Cuvier
was said to be distinguished in this respect, as well as in weight. But the
connexion of force of mind with richness of convolutions is also liable to
various qualifications. It does not hold in the comparison of different species,
—the sheep’s brain is more highly convoluted than the dog’s; and there are
well authenticated cases of men of superior powers, whose brains, both as to
weight and as to convolutions, were below the average. Still, there can be
no doubt that generally, though not universally, an increase in one or both
of these peculiarities is the concomitant of a higher mental endowment. Both
the statistics of the Races of men, and Comparative Anatomy, are decisive to
this extent.
We may readily suppose that, with a view to intellectual power, an
abundance of nervous elements—fibres and corpuscles—must be accompanied
with a felicitous distribution or arrangement of them. |
DIVISIONS OF THE NERVOUS SYSTEM. 13
3. ‘The Nervous SystTEM consists of a central part, or
rather a series of connected central organs named the cerebro-
spinal axis, or cerebro-spinal centre; and of the nerves, which
have the form of cords connected at one extremity with the
cerebro-spinal centre, and extending from thence through
the body to the muscles, sensible parts, and other organs
placed under their control. The nerves form the medium of
communication between these distant parts and the centre ;
one class of nervous fibres, termed afferent (incarrying) or
centripetal, conducting impressions towards the centre,—
another, the efferent (outcarrying) or centrifugal, carrying
material stimuli from the centre to the moving organs. The
nerves are, therefore, said to be internuncial in their office,
whilst the central organ receives the impressions conducted to
it by the one class of nerves, and imparts stimuli to the other,
rendering certain of these impressions cognizable to the mind,
and combining in due association, and towards a definite end,
movements, whether voluntary or involuntary, of different
and often of distant parts. —QUAIN, Introduction.
The foregoing division of the nervous system into nerve-
centres and nerve-cords determines the order and method of
description both as regards their Anatomy, or structure, and
their Physiology, or function.
THE NERVOUS SUBSTANCE.
4. ‘The nervous system is made up of a substance proper and
peculiar to it, with inclosing membranes, cellular tissue, and
blood vessels. The nervous substance has long been distinguished
into two kinds, obviously differing from each other in colour, and
therefore named the white, and the grey, or cineritious (ash-
coloured).
‘When subjected to the microscope, the nervous substance is
seen to consist of two different structural elements, viz., fibres, and
cells or vesicles. The fibres are found universally in the nervous
cords, and they also constitute the greater part of the nervous
centres; the cells or vesicles, on the other hand, are confined in
a great measure to the latter, and do not exist in the nerves pro-
perly so called, unless it be at their peripheral expansions in some
14 THE NERVOUS SYSTEM.
of the organs of special sense; they are contained in the grey
portion of the brain, spinal cord, and ganglia, which grey sub-
stance is, in fact, made up of these vesicles intermixed in many
parts with fibres, and with a variable quantity of granular or
amorphous matter.’
The nerve fibres are principally of the class termed white,
or tubular nerve-fibres. They are of microscopic minute-
ness. In thickness, they range from the ;55 to the zzho0
of an inch; the medium or average being gop of an inch.
When in the fresh condition, they are homogeneous and
transparent, but after separation from the body they acquire
a double outline or contour, and are apt also to assume a
varicose or beaded appearance. The inference as to their
ultimate structure, from these changes, is that each tube con-
sists of (1) an outer structureless membrane, (2) an interior
surrounding layer of transparent fatty matter, and (38) a
central core or cylinder, which is not fatty, but albuminous in
composition. ‘The central band or axis appears alone, or di-
vested of the two envelopes, both in the central connexions of
the fibres, and in the ultimate ramifications in the extremities
of the body ; being, therefore, the essential part of the struc-
ture. In thickness, it does not exceed the 757599 of an inch.
These tubular nerve-fibres are finest on the superficial
layers of the brain, and in the nerves of special sense ; they
are largest in the motor nerves. From the foregoing state-
ments of their size, we may judge of the immense multipli-
cation of the nervous elements. Estimates have been made
of the number of fibres in individual nerves, The third cere-
bral nerve (the common motor of the eyes) is supposed to
have as many as fifteen thousand fibres ; the small root of the
fifth (governing mastication) nine or ten thousand ; the nerve
of the tongue five thousand; these being all motor nerves,
which have the largest fibres. It would be interesting to
estimate the probable number of fibres of the nerve of sight,
which, besides being a sensitive nerve, is much thicker than
any of those just quoted ; there cannot probably be less than
one hundred thousand fibres, and there may be many more.
THE NERVE CELLS. 15
The number of nerve fibres forming the white substance of
the brain must be counted by hundreds of millions.
In the grey substance of the nerve centres, the nerve
fibres are supposed to be continuous with the cells or vesicles.
At their other extremity in the organs of sense, in the
muscles, and in the body generally, their mode of termination
appears to be varied. Sometimes they end in loops, some-
times in meshes of network ; not unfrequently sub-dividing
into minuter nerves (besides dropping their two investing
sheaths). In other cases, they seem, according to the ma-
jority of Anatomists, to end free in fine points, or else in
little swellings of various structure.
It is important to note that each fibre is continued un-
broken and independent from the central nervous masses to
the peripheral extremity; there are no loose ends; and
although the nervous cords frequently unite, as well as sub-
divide, in their course, the ultimate fibres are never fused
with one another.
The nerve cells, vesicles, or ganglionic corpuscles, are little
bodies, of a variety of forms ; being round, oval,» pear-shaped,
tailed, and star-like or radiated. They consist of pulpy mat-
ter, with an eccentric roundish body or nucleus, enclosing one
or more still smaller nuclei, surrounded by coloured granules.
They vary in size from 345 to 3995 Of an inch in diameter.
* Nucleated nerve-corpuscles magnified 170 diameters. a and 4 from the
cortical grey matter of the cerebellum ; ¢ and d from the spongy grey matter
16 THE NERVOUS SYSTEM.
When we take into account the amount of grey matter in
the brain and spinal cord, which grey matter is made up of
these bodies, mingled with fibres, the total number of cor-
puscles occurring in the nervous substance would have to be
reckoned by millions.
With regard to the corpuscles existing in the grey matter of the
convolutions of the brain, Dr. Lionel Beale gives the following
conclusions as the result of his observations of the brain in man,
in the sheep, the cat, and the dog :—
‘1. The numerous nerve cells of the grey matter are all con-
nected with, or give origin to, at least two fibres.
‘2. These fibres, wide near their origin, gradually diminish
in thickness till they are not more than zg¢¢555 of an inch in
diameter.
‘3. It is probable that the cells of the grey matter of the con-
volutions are connected together ; but, in the adult, the cells are
not often connected with those cells situated nearest them.
‘4, There is no reason for supposing that the nerve cells, here
or elsewhere, influence any nerve fibres save those that are struc-
turally continuous with them.’ (Proceedings of the Royal Society,
Vol. AIL, p.075.)
Both the nerve fibres and the nerve cells or corpuscles are
largely supplhed with blood, a circumstance indicating great
activity. The grey matter, which is constituted by the pre-
sence of the corpuscles, is usually spoken of as the seat of
central nervous energy, and hence the grey masses are called
the nervous centres. The supposition is, that these masses
originate or re-inforce nervous power, which is then trans-
mitted through the nerve fibres from one part of the system
to the other. It is, however, shown by experinents that the
nerve fibres themselves generate force; for the currents
passing through them are augmented in their progress.
A second function of the corpuscles throws light on the
plan and workings of the brain. They are the Grand Junc-
tions, or Crossings, where the fibres communicate with one
of the medulla oblongata; » the nucleus of a cell,— (a, c, and ¢, after Hann-
over). From Quain’s Anatomy,
THE SPINAL CORD. div
another, and establish a vast system of lateral and forward
connexions, necessary to the co-ordinating and concatenating
of movements and sensations, in the bodily mechanism
associated with mind. The fibres ascending through the
spinal cord to the brain, pass into cells, some lower and
others higher; new fibres proceed from these cells both
laterally and onwards, and communicate with other cells and
fibres in an exceedingly complicated arrangement. The
spread and expansion of the white nervous substance, in the
hemispheres of the brain, supposes, of necessity, that the
fibres rising from below enter cells in the ganglia at the base
of the brain, and that these cells send out in the upward
direction a much greater number than what is received from
beneath; and so on, till the multiplication attained in the
hemispheres is reached.
THE NERVOUS CENTRES.
5. In the collective mass made up of the brain and spinal
cord, and denominated the cerebro-
spinal axis or centre, the following
parts stand distinct from each other,
although mutually connected by
bundles of nerve fibres.
I. The Sprnau Corp, contained
in the back bone, and sending out
two pairs of nerves from between
every two vertebre, one pair to each
side of the body. The Cord consists
of a column of white fibrous matter
with a grey portion enclosed. In a
cross section, the grey matter is seen
to form two crescents, with the horns
turned outwards, and connected in
the middle of their convexities by a
cross band.
* ¢Plans in outline, showing the front, A, and the sides, B, of the spinal
cord with the fissures upon it; also sections of the grey and white matter,
and the roots of the spinal nerves. a, a, Anterior fissure. p, », Posterior
2
18 THE NERVOUS SYSTEM.
II. The ENCEPHALON or Bran. This includes the entire
contents of the cavity of the skull, or cranium. The spinal
cord is continued up into it. The brain is itself an aggregate
of distinguishable masses of mixed grey and white matter.
Each of these masses is looked upon either as a distinct
centre, or as communicating between the centres. In pro-
portion as the grey vesicular matter prevails, the mass has
the characters of a centre and a grand junction ; according as
the white fibrous substance prevails, the part serves as a
medium of conduction or communication solely. Of these
various masses, some have a preponderance of grey, others of
white matter. None are purely of one kind.
The roere mechanical arrangement of the brain is ex-
tremely complex, and there are different modes of classifying
and grouping the various portions. The division adopted by
human Anatomists is into four parts (a different arrangement
has been proposed, founded on Comparative Anatomy). Those
four parts are the Cerebrum, the Cerebellum, the Pons Varolii,
Fire.. 3.*
fissure. 4, Posterior, and c, Anterior horn of grey matter. e, Grey commis-
sure. 1, Anterior, and s, Posterior roots of a spinal nerve.’—Quatn, Vol. II.
p. 438.
* «A plan in outline, showing, in a lateral view, the parts of the encepha-
lon separated somewhat from each other. A, Cerebrum. e, Fissure of
THE MEDULLA OBLONGATA. 19
and the Medulla Oblongata. ‘The cerebrum, which is the
highest and by far the largest part of the human encephalon,
occupies the upper and larger portion of the cranial cavity.’
‘The cerebellum is placed beneath the hinder part of the
cerebrum, by which it is completely overlapped.’ The pons
Varolii is in the base of the brain near the entrance of the
spinal cord, and connects together the three other parts,—
the cerebrum, the cerebellum, and the medulla oblongata. The
medulla oblongata connects the spinal cord with the brain.
6. In giving a more detailed description of those four
parts, it will be convenient to take them in an inverse order,
beginning from below, or where the brain joins the spinal
cord. i
(1.) The Medulla Oblongata—tThis portion is continuous
below with the spinal cord, of which it seems an expansion ;
lying wholly within the cranial cavity, its upper end passes
into the pons Varolii. See Figs. 3 and 4, D.
‘It is of a pyramidal form, having its broad extremity
turned upwards, from which it tapers to its point of con-
nexion with the spinal cord; it is expanded laterally at its
upper part. Its length from the pons to the lower extremity
of the pyramids is about an inch and a quarter; its greatest
breadth is about three quarters of an inch ; and its thickness
from before backwards about half an inch.
In form and general anatomical characters, the medulla
oblongata very much resembles the cord, of which it is a
prolongation upwards to the brain. It is not our purpose
here to enter into the minute anatomy of the part, or to set
forth the points of difference between it and the cord; we need
only observe that in it the white and grey constituents of the
cord are both increased in size and altered in arrangement.
The grey matter especially becomes more abundant, and
additional deposits occur. The medulla oblongata has thus
more of the character of an independent centre of nervous
Sylvius, which separates the anterior and middle lobes. 8B, Cerebellum. C,
Pons Varolii. D, Medulla oblongata. a, Peduncles of cerebrum; 6, Superior ;
c, Middle; and d, Inferior peduncles of cerebellum.’—Quatn.
20 THE NERVOUS SYSTEM.
action, as well as of a grand junction, than belongs to the
cord. It gives origin to nerves of a very special and im-
portant nature. |
(2.) The Pons Varolit, or annular protuberance (tuber
annulare). (See Figs. 3and 4c.) This ‘is a comparatively
small portion of the encephalon, which occupies a central
position on its under surface, above and in front of the
medulla oblongata, below and behind the crura cerebri a,
and between the middle crura of the cerebellum c¢, with all
which parts it is connected” By the term ‘crura cerebri,
introduced in this description, is meant the ‘legs’ or roots of
the cerebrum, or the two bundles of nerves that unite it with
the parts below. The crura of the cerebellum express in
like manner the several connexions of that centre with the
other centres. On account of the intermediate and con-
necting position of the pons, it has also been called the
middle-brain (meso-cephalon). From its embracing, as in a
ring, the medulla oblongata and stems of the cerebrum, it has
derived the name of annular protuberance; the other name,
‘pons,’ or bridge, expresses the same circumstance.
‘The substance of the pons Varolii consists of transverse
and longitudinal white fibres, interspersed with a quantity
of diffused grey matter. The transverse fibres, with a few
exceptions, enter the cerebellum under the name of the
middle crura or peduncles, and form a commissural (or con-
necting) system for its two hemispheres. The longitudinal
fibres are those which ascend from the medulla oblongata
into the crura cerebri, augmented, it would seem, by others
which arise within the pons from the grey matter scattered
through it. The pons is thus mainly a grand junction
between the medulla oblongata and spinal cord below, the
cerebrum above, and the cerebellum behind. The existence
of a considerable amount of the grey or vesicular matter
proves that simple conduction or communication is not the
sole function of this part of the brain.
(3.) ‘The cerebrum or brain proper (Figs. 3 and 4, A), as
already mentioned, is the highest, and by far the largest
THE CEREBRAL HEMISPHERES. pa
portion of the encephalon. It is of an ovoid (or egg) shape,
but is regularly flattened on its under side. It is placed
in the cranium with its small end forwards, its greatest width
being opposite to the parietal eminences.
‘The cerebrum consists of two lateral halves, or hemi-
spheres, as they are called, which, though connected by a
median portion of nervous substance, are separated in a great
Fig. 4.*
TTT
part of their extent by a fissure, named the great longitudinal
fissure, which is seen on the upper surface of the brain, and
partly also on its base.
‘The cerebral hemispheres are not plain or uniform upon
* Shows the under surface or base of the encephalon freed from its
membranes. A, Cerebrum. ff, g, h, Its anterior, middle, and posterior lobes.
B, Cerebellum. C, Pons Varolii. D, Medulla Oblongata. d, Peduncle of
cerebrum. 1 to 9, indicate the several pairs of cerebral nerves, numbered
according to the usual notation, viz.:—1, Olfactory nerve. 2, Optic. 3,
Motor nerve of eye. 4, Pathetic. 5, Trifacial. 6, Abducent nerve of eye.
7, Auditory; and 7’, Facial. 8, Glosso-pharyngeal. 8’, Vagus. 8”, Spinal
accessory nerve. 9, Lingual or hypoglossal nerve.
22 THE NERVOUS SYSTEM.
the surface, but are moulded into numerous smooth and
tortuous eminences, named convolutions, or gyri, which are
marked off from each other by deep furrows, called sulci, or
anfractuosities. These convolutions are coloured externally ;
for the surface of the cerebral hemispheres, unlike the parts
hitherto described, is composed of grey matter,’
The complete description of the cerebrum includes an
account of the external surface with its convolutions, and of
the various masses that make up the interior, and in part
appear at the base of the brain. Although in the highest
degree interesting as a study, no important application to our
present subject arises out of such minute knowledge. There
are, however, a few particulars that it is of use for us to add,
selected out of the elaborate detail of cerebral Anatomy.
A distinction exists between the convoluted mass of the
hemispheres and certain enclosed smaller masses of the cere-
brum. Of these, there are two that are usually named
together, partly on account of their proximity, and partly
because it has not been practicable to distinguish completely
their functions. They are the optict thalami and corpora
striata, being double and symmetrical on the two sides.
They both lie imbedded in the heart of the hemispheres.
The peduncles or stems of the cerebrum pass into them
before spreading out into the mass of the hemispheres. The
third important mass is termed the corpora quadrigemina
(quadruple bodies),* from consisting of four rounded masses
put together in a square. This portion is more detached
than the two others, and finds a place between the cerebrum
and cerebellum. In some of the inferior animals it is very
large, and takes a prominent position in the general structure
of the brain; whereas the two other masses above mentioned
for the most part rise and fall according to the degree of
development of the convoluted hemispheres. Hence the
comparative Anatomist assigns to the quadruple bodies a
* See in Fig. 3, the two rounded eminences behind 4, the superior
peduncle of the cerebellum. These represent the corpora quadrigemina in
section.
THE GANGLIA OF THE BRAIN. a
character and function apart from the rest of the cerebrum.
I quote a short description of each of the three centres.
The corpora striata ‘are two large ovoid masses of grey matter,
the greater part of which is imbedded in the middle of the white
substance of the hemisphere of the brain.’ ‘The surface of the
corpus striatum is composed of grey matter. At some depth
from the surface white fibres may be seen cutting into it, which
are prolonged from the corresponding cerebral peduncle, and
give it the streaked appearance from which it has received its
name.’
‘The thalami optici (posterior ganglia of the brain) are of an
oval shape, and rest on the corresponding cerebral crura, which
they in a manner embrace. On the outer side each thalamus is
bounded by the corpus striatum, and is then continuous with the
white substance of the hemisphere.’ ‘ The inner side of the two
thalami are turned to each other.’ ‘The optic thalami are white
on the surface, and consist of several layers of white fibres inter-
mixed with grey matter.’
‘In front of the cerebeilum are certain eminences, which may
be reached from the surface of the brain. ‘These are the corpora
quadrigemina, and above them is the pineal gland.’
(‘The pineal gland (conarium) so named from its shape
(pinus conus, the fruit of the fir), is a small reddish body,
which rests upon the anterior pair of the corpora quadrigemina.’
‘It is about three lines (a quarter of an inch) in length, and its
broad part, or base, is turned forwards, and is connected with
the rest of the cerebrum by white substance.’)
‘The corpora or tubercula quadrigemina are four rounded
eminences, separated by a crucial depression, placed two on
each side of the middle line, one before the other. They are
connected with the back of the optici thalami, and with the
cerebral peduncles at either side.’
‘The upper or anterior tubercles are somewhat larger and
darker in colour than the posterior. In the adult, both pairs are
solid, and are composed of white substance outside, containing
grey matter within.
‘They receive bands of white fibres from below.’—‘ A white
cord also passes up on each side from the cerebellum to the
corpora quadrigemina, and is continued onwards to the thalami:
24. THE NERVOUS SYSTEM.
these two white cords are the superior peduncles of the cere-
bellum. At each side, the corpora quadrigemina send off two
white tracts, which pass to the thalami and to the commence-
ments of the optic nerves.’
‘In the human brain these quadrigeminal bodies are small
in comparison with their size in the series of animals. In
ruminant, soliped, and rodent animals, the anterior tubercles are
much larger than the posterior, as may be seen in the sheep,
horse, and rabbit. In the brains of carnivora, the posterior
tubercles are rather the larger.’
‘In the foetus this part of the brain appears very early, and then
forms a large proportion of the cerebral mass. The eminences are
at first single on each side, and hollow. They are constant in the
brains of all vertebrate animals, but in fishes, reptiles, and birds,
they are only two in number, and hollow. In marsupialia and
monotremata, they are also two in number, but solid.’
In this brief allusion to the different parts composing the
cerebrum, we have had to exclude the mention of many
smaller portions. We have also avoided all allusion to the
ventricles of the brain. ‘These are enclosed spades extending
in various directions, and serving as boundaries to the other
parts.*
(4.) ‘ The cerebellum, little brain, or after brain (Figs. 3 and
4, B), consists of a body and three pairs of erwra or peduncles,
by which it is connected with the rest of the encephalon.
They are named superior, middle, and inferior peduncles.
* The following passage may assist in giving a connected view of the cere-
brum, and also of the nature of the ventricular cavities or space,
‘The hemispheres are connected together in the middle by the corpus
callosum, and it is obvious that the structures filling up the interpeduncular
space, serve also as connecting media. Between the corpus callosum above
and the peduncles below, the two hemispheres are partially separated from
each other, so as to leave an interval, the general ventricular space, across
which some slighter connecting portions of nervous substance pass from one
hemisphere to another.
‘Again, as seen in a transverse vertical section of the cerebrum, the
peduncles diverge as they ascend towards the hemispheres, and pass on each
side through two large masses of grey matter, sometimes called ganglia of the
brain, —at first through the thalamus opticus, and afterwards through a much
larger mass named corpus striatum. These two masses of grey matter project
THE CEREBELLUM. 25
‘The superior peduncles (Fig. 3, b) connect the cerebellum
with the cerebrum through the corpora quadrigemina, as already
stated. The inferior peduncles d, pass downward to the back
part of the medulla oblongata. The middle peduncles, c, pass
from the middle of the cerebellum around the outer side of the
crura of the cerebrum, and meet in front of the pons Varolii,
constituting its transverse fibres. They connect the two halves
of the cerebellum below. All these peduncles consist of white
fibres only ; and they pass into the interior of the cerebellum at
its fore part.’
“The body of the cerebellum B, being covered with cortical
substance, is of a grey colour externally, but is rather darker on
the surface than the cerebrum. Its greatest diameter is trans-
verse: 1t is about three and a half or four inches wide, about two
or two and a half from before backwards, and about two inches
deep in the thickest part, but is much thinner all round its outer
border.’
‘It consists of two lateral hemispheres, joined together by a
median portion called the worm, or vermiform process, which in
birds, and in some animals still lower in the scale, is the only
part existing.’
‘The body of the cerebellum at the surface, and for some
depth, consists of numerous nearly parallel lamine or folia, which
are composed of grey and white matter, and might be compared
with the gyri or convolutions of the cerebrum, but are smaller
and not convoluted. These are separated by sulci of different
depths.’—QuaIn.
somewhat, as smooth convex eminences, on the upper and inner surface of the
diverging fibres of the peduncles. Immediately above the thalami and corpora
striata, the hemispheres are connected together across the median plane by
the corpus callosum; and it is between the under surface of the latter, and
the upper surface of the eminences mentioned and the interpeduncular struc-
tures, that the general ventricular space is situated in the interior of the
cerebrum. The upper part of this space is again divided by a median vertical
partition, so as to form the two Jateral ventricles : below this, it formsa single
cavity named the third or middle ventricle, which communicates with both
the lateral ventricles above, and, below, with the ventricle of the cerebellum
or fourth ventricle. The median vertical partition, which separates the lateral
ventricles from each other, consists at one part (septum lucidum) of two
layers, between which is contained the jifth and remaining ventricle of the
brain.’ — QUAIN.
26 THE NERVOUS SYSTEM.
7. We must next attend to the internal structure of the
brain, considered as made up of the two kinds of matter, the
grey and the white. The distribution and arrangement of
those two kinds of matter throw light upon the mode of
action, or the peculiar kind of activity that distinguishes the
brain.
‘White Part of the Encephalon.—The white matter of the
encephalon consists of tubular fibres. The general direction
which they follow is best seen in a brain that has been
hardened by immersion in spirits, although it is true that we
do not then trace the single fibres, but only the fine bundles
and fibrous lamellee which they form by their aggregation.’
‘The fibres of the cerebrum, though exceedingly compli-
cated in their arrangement, and forming many different col-
lections, may be referred to three principal systems, according
to the general course which they take, viz—1l. Ascending or
peduncular fibres, which pass up from the medulla oblongata
to the hemispheres, and constitute the two crura or peduncles
of the cerebrum. They increase in number as they ascend
through the pons, and still further in passing through the
optic thalami and striated bodies, beyond which they spread
in all directions into the hemispheres. These were named
by Gall the diverging fibres. 2. Transverse or commissural
jibres, which connect the two hemispheres together. 3. Lon-
gitudinal or collateral fibres, which, keeping on the same side
of the middle line, connect more or less distant parts of the
same hemisphere together.’
‘Grey Matter of the Encephalon.—Considering the imputed
physiological importance of the grey nervous substance, it
may be well to mention connectedly the different positions in
which it is found in the several parts of the encephalon.’
‘ By far the larger amount is situated upon the convoluted
surface of the cerebrum and the laminated surface of the
cerebellum, forming, in each case, the external cortical layer
of cineritious maiter.’
I omit a portion of the connected account of the spread
of the grey matter in the parts in the interior and base of the
DISTRIBUTION OF GREY MATTER. 27
brain, as including a number of terms that the reader has not
been prepared for in the present sketch of the nervous
system. We must rest satisfied with perusing, in addition to
the above, the account of the distribution of grey substance
in the larger portions, and in the parts already in some degree
known to us.
‘In the crura cerebri, the grey matter is collected into a
dark mass ; below this it is continuous with that of the pons
and medulla oblongata, and through them with the spinal
cord. Thus, though the crura cerebri are, in the main, con-
nexions of white matter between the hemispheres and the
parts below, yet, like the medulla oblongata and spinal cord,
they contain in the interior a portion of the grey matter, and
are to that extent centres and junctions, as well as conductors.
‘In the centre of each of the corpora quadrigemina, grey
matter is also found, and it occurs in the pineal gland (and
in the corpora geniculata). These last bodies appear to be
appendages of the large masses of grey matter, situated in
the interior of the cerebrum, named the optic thalami; which
again are succeeded by the still larger collections of this
substance, and indeed the largest situated within the brain,—
viz., the corpora striata.’
8. Plan of Structure indicated by the above arrangement
of white and grey substance—It would appear, thus, that the
cerebro-spinal centre, or the brain and spinal cord taken
together, is an aggregate of distinct nervous masses or parts,
each made up of a mixture of white and grey matter. The
grey matter is the vesicular substance, consisting of cells or
corpuscles ; the white matter is the fibrous substance, being
made up of fibres bundled together. The grey matter is a
terminus; to it the fibrous collections tend, or from it com-
mence. The fibrous matter contained within any of the
cerebral masses is’‘placed there as a means of communicating
with some portion or other of the layers, or other collections,
of grey substance.
Assuming that one class of nerve fibres (the sensory or
incarrying)—those distributed to senses, viscera, &c.—are
28 THE NEkKVOUS SYSTEM.
employed in conveying influence from without inwards ; and
the other class (motory or outcarrying)—distributed to muscles,
in conveying influence from within outwards,—we find that
both classes are usually mixed together in the same rami-
fying branches, and in the common stem of white matter in
the spinal cord. Let us imagine, however, the two kinds
separated; the sensory nerves all emerging from the centres
on oue hand, and the motory nerves emerging apart on the
other. We can then express the plan of the brain thus :—
The sensory or incarrying fibres arising from the ex-
tremities enter the cord, proceed a certain way there, and
begin to drop into corpuscles; from these corpuscles fresh
fibres arise and proceed, some onwards and some laterally, to
other cells; and so on. Thus, in the spinal cord, medulla
oblongata, pons Varolii, &c.—up to the cerebral hemispheres,
there is a repeated system of fibres passing into cells, and
new fibres emerging, and going on to other cells; giving
birth to an endless system of cross communications, like the
railway network of England. Adverting now to the enormous
connecting mass of fibres—ascending, diverging, and trans-
verse—that make up the white substance of the brain, we
must consider how the multiplication has been effected.
There is only one conceivable process, when we consider
that the entire mass is in communication, through cells,
with the diminutive mass of the spinal cord. The process
is this. For one fibre coming up from the sense organs and
dropping into a cell, two, three, four, or more must emerge;
each of these again, proceeding onwards to a new cell, and
there replaced by three, four, &c., new fibres; and so on,
until the expansion or multiplication is completed. Within
the spinal.cord, where there is no increase of bulk, the mul-
tiplying process is not begun; but in the upper course of the
cord, where it enters the brain, there is an arithmetical
necessity for the multiplication. We can hardly avoid the
supposition that the corpora striata and the thalamz optict,
through which the great stem of the brain diffuses itself
(by the ascending fibres) in the white matter of the hemi-
PLAN OF THE BRAIN. 29
spheres, are the principal seats of the multiplying corpuscles.
For every fibre carrying impressions up from the senses, and
every fibre carrying out stimulus to the moving organs, there
must be perhaps ten thousand, perhaps a hundred thousand,
traversing the brain, involving a great and rapid multiplica-
tion in the corpuscles of the grey substance.*
* It will be necessary, in speaking of certain functions closely allied to the
mind, that some allusion be made to the portion of the nervous organization
called the Sympathetic System, consisting of numerous ganglia, or little knots,
together with nerve cords, and united by numerous nerve cords or branches to
the cerebro-spinal system.
The sympathetic system consists of two knotted or ganglionated cords or
strings, running, inside the trunk, from the neck to the pelvis, one on each
side of the spine. The upper end is connected with groups of ganglia in the
head and face; and, in the trunk, there are detached interlacements of
ganglia, or plexuses having connexion with the great viscera in the chest and
abdomen.
The knots, or Ganglia, are the centres or grey masses of the system,
being made up of nerve corpuscles of a particular kind (having usually a
single projection or tail). They exercise the usual functions of the corpuscles,
in forwarding, diverting, reflecting, and concatenating nervous currents. The
Cords are, as in the cerebro-spinal system, made up of nerve fibres, but these
are of a peculiar sort, described as soft, granular, flattish (as opposed to tubular)
fibres, without any surrounding sheaths or investments, and containing many
dark nuclei; they are called the gelatinous, and the non-medullated fibres.
United with fibres from the cerebro-spinal system, these branches of
the sympathetic are distributed over the whole body. Thus, as regards
the head, they are found in the iris and the blood-vessels of the eye, in a
muscle of the tympanum, in the nose, the palate, and the salivary glands.
The great plexus of the chest (the cardiac) sends fibres to the heart, the great
. blood-vessels, and the lungs; from the aorta, nerves are continued to the
arteries throughout the body. The abdominal plexus (called the solar plexus)
supplies the stomach, intestines, liver, kidneys, and other abdominal viscera ;
each organ having a small plexus of itsown. A still lower plexus contributes
fibres to the parts contained in the pelvis. As all the ramifications contain a
certain number of cerebro-spinal fibres, so it is believed that the cranial and
spinal nerves contain everywhere some sympathetic fibres.
It is presumed from analogy, and from the functions exerted by the
sympathetic system, that the fibres are of the two classes—incarrying and
outcarrying. The incarrying nerves would receive stimulation from the
peripheral surfaces ; the outcarrying would convey motor stimuli to muscular
fibres. This last function is the one most clearly manifested. The muscular
fibres stimulated by the sympathetic nerves are almost all involuntary
muscles, as the iris, the heart, the muscular coat of the blood-vessels, the
30 THE NERVOUS SYSTEM.
OF THE CEREBRO-SPINAL NERVES.
9. By the cerebro-spinal nerves are meant the connexions
of the cerebro-spinal centre with the different parts of the
body. These connexions consist of ramifications of nerve
cords, threads, or bundles, arising in the central masses, and
distributed like the blood-vessels, by subdividing and spread -
ing themselves over the various organs and tissues, thereby
establishing a connexion between the brain and the remotest
extremities.
‘These nerves are formed of the nerve fibres already Ce-
scribed, collected together and bound up in membranous
sheaths. A larger or smaller number of fibres inclosed in a
tubular sheath form a small round cord, usually named a
funiculus ; if a nerve be very small, it may consist of but
one such cord, but in larger nerves several funiculi are united
together into one or more larger bundles, which, being
wrapped up in a common membranous covering, constitute
the nerve (Fig. 5). Accordingly, in dissecting a nerve, we
first come to an outward covering, formed of cellular tissue,
intestines, &c. All these parts are primarily governed by the sympathetic
system, with more or less interference from the cerebro-spinal centres, through
the fibres intermingling with sympathetic fibres.
The sympathetic system presides over the viscera, which are the organs
of the nutritive or vegetative life. It sustains the rhythmical action of the
heart, and of the intestines. The fibres distributed to the small arteries
everywhere maintain these vessels in a state of permanent contraction, the
release from which, by extraneous influence, produces local congestion and
the allied results. These fibres and their function, receive the designation
vasi-motor.
The fibres of the sympathetic are not the medium of sensation. When
pain arises in parts mainly supplied by them, as the intestines, it must be
attributed to the irritation of the intermingled fibres of the cerebro-spinal
class.
Many of the so-called reflex functions are due to the operation of the
sympathetic nerves and ganglia. The extreme contrast to the proper volun-
tary actions is presented by the movements due to this system—witness the
heart, the intestines, and the vasi-motor compression of the blood-vessels.
Indeed, the absence of sensation and the absence of voluntary control are
essentially the same fact.
THE NERVES. oe
but often so strong and dense, that it might well be called
fibrous. From this common sheath we trace lamin passing
inwards, between the larger and smaller bundles of funiculi,
and finally between the funiculi themselves, connecting them
together as well as conducting and supporting the fine blood
vessels which are distributed to the nerve.’
‘The funiculi of a nerve are not all of one size, but all are
sufficiently large to be readily seen with the naked eye, and
easily dissected out from each other. In a nerve so dissected
into its component fasciculi, it is seen that these do not run
along the nerve as parallel insulated cords, but join together
obliquely at short distances as they proceed in their course,
the cords resulting from such union dividing in their further
progress to form junctions again with collateral cords ; so
that, in fact, the funiculi composing a single nervous trunk
have an arrangement with respect to each other similar to
what we find to hold in a plexus formed by the branches of
different nerves. It must be distinctly understood, however,
that in these communications the proper nerve fibres do not
join together or coalesce. They pass off from one nervous cord
to enter another, with whose fibres they become intermixed,
and part of them thus intermixed may again pass off to a
third funiculus, or go through a series of funiculi and undergo
still further intermixture. But through all these successive
associations, the nerve fibres remain, as far as known, indi-
vidually distinct, like interlaced threads in a rope.’
* ‘Represents a nerve consisting of many smaller cords or funiculi,
wrapped up ina common cellularsheath. A,thenerve. B, a single funiculus
drawn out from the rest (after Sir C. Bell). —Quary.
oa THE NERVOUS SYSTEM.
FUNCTIONS OF THE NERVOUS SYSTEM.
The Nerves.
10. The Nerves are divided into two classes, according as
they proceed from the Spinal Cord, or issue direct from the
brain. The first class, called the Spinal Nerves, is the most
numerous. It is not implied that these nerves have no con-
nexion with the brain, but merely that their place of emer-
gence or ‘superficial origin’ is in the Spinal. Cord. The
arrangement is to be looked upon as a matter of local con-
venience. The nerves destined for the lower limbs do not
leave the general trunk until they approach the neighbour-
hood that they are to supply; that is, they are prolonged
within the spine to its lower extremity ; whilst those branch-
ing towards the arms emerge in the neck and between the
shoulders. On the other hand, the nerves that supply the
face and head leave the brain at once by openings in the
skull; these are the Cerebral Nerves. There is no difference
of nature between the two classes.
In the mode of junction of the Spinal Nerves with the
Spinal Cord, a peculiarity is observed of great importance in ~
the present subject. I have already adverted to the fact that
they issue from the spine in pairs, one pair between every
two vertebrae; there are in all thirty-one couples. Each
couple contains a right and a left member, for distribution to
the right and left sides of the body. This part of the arrange-
ment is likewise a matter of local convenience. But, further,
when one individual:of these emerging couples is examined,
say aright branch, we find that this branch does not arise
from the cord single; it springs from two roots, and these,
after proceeding apart for a short way, unite in the one single
nerve that is seen to issue from between the vertebree on the
right side. The same holds of any left branch that may be
fixed upon; the connexion with the cord is not single, but
double. The smaller of the two roots, in each case, proceeds
from the fore part of the cord, and is called the anterior root ;
FUNCTION OF THE NERVES. he
the other or larger proceeds from the hinder portion of the
cord, and is called the posterior root. This last root, the
posterior, is distinguished in another point, besides its greater
size. Just after leaving the cord, there is a ganglion or little
swelling formed upon it, composed in part of grey matter, and
being to appearance of the nature of a nerve centre. Beyond
the ganglion, the two roots mingle and constitute the one
nerve seen to emerge from the spine.*
11. Having thus noticed two classifications of the Nerves,
the one—into Spinal and Cerebral—unimportant as respects
function, the other—into Anterior and Posterior roots—highly
important, as will be seen ; we now proceed to illustrate the
precise function’ of a nerve. The function of a nerve is to
transmit impressions, influences, or stimuli, from one part of
the system to another.
The experimental proofs of this position are numerous,
and they are now reckoned conclusive. If a main trunk
nerve supplying a limb be cut through, all sensation in the
jimb ceases, and also all power of movement. The blood
circulates and the parts are nourished, but, for the purposes
of feeling or action, the member is excommunicated, dead.
The telegraph wire is cut.
If, instead of cutting the nerve through, we prick or
irritate it, we cause both feeling and movement, Whether
the irritation is applied high or low, near the nervous centres
or near the extremities of the body, the effect is the same.
The pricking originates an impression or stimulus, which the
nerve conveys through its whole length ; wherever that nerve
ramifies, there is feeling or movement, or both, It appears,
however that the influence increases as it passes along the
nerve, presenting a marked contrast to the conduction of
electricity by a wire, for the electric current diminishes by
transmission. ‘The nerve is not a passive, but an active
conductor.
12. We have remarked of the nerves that they convey
influence for the two distinct ends of causing action and of
* See Fig. 2, p. 17.
34 THE NERVOUS SYSTEM. —
causing feeling. For Action, the influence must proceed owt-
‘wards from the centres to the active organs; a stimulus from
the brain or spinal cord has to be transmitted to the limbs,
trunk, head, eyes, mouth, voice, or other parts that are to be
set in motion. For Feeling, the influence must pass inwards.
In a sensation of hearing, for example, an impression made
on the sensitive surface of the ear is conveyed by the nerve
of hearing towards the cerebral centres. Now, it is found
that different sets of nerves are employed for these two pur-
poses; one class being exclusively devoted to the outward
transmission of stimulants to action or movement, while the
other class is equally confined to the office of conveying
influence centrewards, for the ends of sensation or feeling.
The first of these two classes is that named efferent (out-
carrying) nerves, the second comprises the afferent (in-
carrying) nerves. In the individual fibres, it would appear
that the influence always follows one direction. No single
nerve combines both functions.
It is further known, since the discoveries of Bell and
others, that one of the two roots of the spinal nerves is
entirely composed of nerves conveying the outward stimulus ;
these are, therefore, purely nerves of motion, motor nerves.
The other root consists of fibres transmitting influence from
the various parts of the body inwards to the centres; these
are called the sentient nerves. (They are not all sentient in
the full sense of the word, as will be afterwards explained.)
The anterior roots are the motor nerves; the posterior roots
are the incarrying or sentient nerves. On these last roots,
the posterior, the ganglionic swellings occur; and, both in the
spinal nerves and in those emerging at once from the brain
by openings in the cranium, the occurrence of such a bead is
a proof that the nerve is of the incarrying or sentient class.
In the experiments above described, as made upon trunk-
nerves of an arm or leg, effects both of movement and of sen-
sation were seen to follow; the limb was thrown into con-
vulsive movements, and the animal showed all the symptoms
of being in bodily pain. If, now, instead of a main trunk,
TWO CLASSES OF NERVES. 35
the trial is made upon one of the roots of a spinal nerve, only
a single effect will be produced,—motion without sensation,
ar sensation without motion of the part. If an anterior root
is pricked or irritated, movements of some part of the body
will follow, showing that an active stimulus has been dis-
charged upon a certain number of muscles. If a posterior
or ganglionic root is pricked, the animal will show symptoms
of pain, and the pain will be mentally referred to the part
where the filaments of the nerve are distributed. If the
nerve is one proceeding to the leg, there will be a feeling of
pain in the leg; but there will be no instantaneous con-
vulsions and contractions of the limb, such as are produced
by irritating an anterior root. All the movements that an
animal makes under the stimulus of a sentient root, are
consequent on the sensation of pain; they are not the direct
result of the irritating application. In one of the trunk
nerves of an arm or a leg, both motor and sentient fibres are
mixed up, which is the reason of the mixed effect in the first
experiment above mentioned.*
13. Experiments with pure nerves, that is, with motor
fibres alone, or sentient fibres alone, are best made upon the
nerves of the head,—the Cerebral Nerves. A certain number
of these are exclusively motor, certain others are exclusively
sentient, while a third kind are mixed, like the spinal nerves
beyond the point of junction of the two roots.
The Cerebral Nerves are divided into nine pairs, some of
these being considered as admitting of farther subdivision.
Four are enumerated as nerves of pure sensation :—the nerve
* When an anterior root is cut through, irritation of the farther seg-
ment produces movements; irritation of the upper segment (nearest the
brain) has no effect. Ifa posterior root is cut, irritation of the farther seg-
ment gives rise to no signs of sensation or of motion ; irritation of the nearer
segment causes signs of pain. The irritation of the farther segment of an
anterior or motor root (whose result is movement) may, however, be accom-
panied with slight indications of pain; the explanation of which is, that the
cramping or violent contraction of the muscles stimulates the sensory
muscular fibres, which proceed to the brain by the undivided posterior, or
proper sensory roots.
36 THE NERVOUS SYSTEM.
of Smell (olfactory nerve, 1st pair); the nerve of Sight (optic
nerve, 2nd pair) ; the nerve of sensation of the Tongue and
Face generally (5th pair)—(this nerve contains also a motor
portion distributed to the muscles of mastication); the nerve
of Hearing (auditory nerve, part of the 7th pair). These
nerves, therefore, are engaged in transmitting influence from
the surfaces of special sense, the nose, eyes, ears, tongue, and
face, towards the cerebral mass. Jive nerves are enumerated
as purely motor or outcarrying :—the nerve supplying three
of the four recti (or rectangularly arranged) and one of the
oblique muscles of the eye, and sustaining its ordinary
movements (motor communis oculorum, 3rd pair); the nerve
supplying the superior oblique muscle of the eye (trochlearis,
4th pair) ; the nerve distributed to the external rectus muscle
of the eye, and serving to abduct the two eyes by an inde-
pendent stimulus requisite in adjusting the eyes to different
distances (abducent, 6th pair); the trunk nerve for setting on
the movements of the face and features (2nd part of 7th
pair) ; the nerve for moving the tongue (9th pair). The pair
reckoned the 8th has three divisions :—(1) the glosso-
pharyngeal or sensory nerve of the tongue and throat; (2)
the vagus or pneumo-gastric, the sensory nerve concerned in
respiration, circulation, deglutition, and digestion; (3) the
spinal accessory or motor nerve for regulating the movements
of the parts supplied by the vagus—as the throat, larynx,
and lungs.
If any one of the four sensitive nerves issuing from the
cranium be cut through, sensation in the connected organ is
lost; disease will produce the same effect. Injury in the
optic nerve causes blindness, in the auditory nerve deafness.
If any one of them is irritated by pricking, corrosion, or
electricity, a sensation is produced of the kind proper to the
nerve; if the olfactory nerve, there is a smell; the optic, a
flash of light; the auditory, a sound; but no movement is
generated. If any one of the five motor pairs is cut, the
corresponding muscles cease to act; they are said to be
paralyzed, an effect also produced by nervous disease. If the
FUNCTIONS OF THE SPINAL CORD. 37
third pair were cut, the motion of the eyeballs would cease,
there would no longer be any power of directing the gaze at
pleasure ; the most brilliant spectacle would fail to command
the sweeping glances of the eye. If the moving portion of
the 7th pair were cut on one side, all the muscles of the face
on that side would lose their tension, and the equipoise of
the two sides being thus destroyed, the face would be set
awry, by the action of the unparalyzed muscles.
By experiments of this nature, the functions of the
several cerebral nerves have been successively ascertained.
In like manner, the discovery of the compound nature of the
spinal nerves has been fully contirmed. It has been shown
beyond the possibility of doubt, that the nerve fibres are
of two distinct classes, with different functions, and that the
same fibre never serves both functions.
Functions of the Spinal Cord and Medulla Obdlongata.
14. With regard to the Spinal Cord, we find, in the first
place, that it is necessary to sensation and to voluntary
movement (movement from feeling) throughout the entire
trunk and extremities of the body. If the cord is cut across
at; any part, all feeling is lost, and all power of movement by
the will, everywhere below that place, or in every portion of
the body where the nerves arising beyond the cut are distri-
buted. If the division is made far down in the back, the
lower limbs are the parts principally paralyzed ; from them
feeling comes no more, nor is it possible to move them by any
mental effort. If the cut is in the neck, the paralysis over-
takes the arms, trunk, and legs. It becomes evident, that the
continuity of the cord with the brain is necessary in order to
connect the mental system with the bodily members. The
cord by itself will not give the power either of sensation or of
voluntary movement. We must regard this portion of the
cerebro-spinal axis as a main channel of nervous conveyance
for sensation and for voluntary action, between the brain, and
the trunk and the extremities of the body. The nerve ramifi-
38 THE NERVOUS SYSTEM.
cations are here, as it were, gathered together into one rope or
bundle, for convenient transmission to and from the masses
of the encephalon. To this extent the cord is the assemblage
of the general mass of ramifying or communicating fibres ;
we may look upon it as the trunk of the tree, the final stream
of the river system.*
If now we make experiments upon the cord when dis-
severed from the brain, we discover that a power of producing
movements, though not voluntary, still remains. On irritat-
ing any portion of the substance, movements of the limbs
are observed. This effect might, no doubt, arise from the
continuity of the part with some of the motor nerves ; for we
have seen that movements in a limb are caused by pinching
one of the nerves that supply the limb. \ But there is a mode
of trying the experiment so as to prove decidedly that the
spinal cord is itself a source of movement; that is, to prick
the skin of the toes. When this is done, a convulsive stimulus
instantly returns upon the limb and throws it into action.
Hence we infer that an impression arising on the surface of
the body and conveyed to the spinal cord, but not to the
brain, causes the cord to send forth a motor stimulus to the
moveable organs; a phenomenon, moreover, that ceases on
the destruction of the cord.
‘In most instances where the spinal cord has been divided,
whether by design or accident, it has been found that al-
* Dr. Brown-Séquard has determined by decisive experiments that the
transmission of sensitive impressions, in the spinal cord, takes place chiefly
through the grey matter, and partly through the anterior columns; the im-
pressions being conveyed to the grey matter by fibres passing obliquely across
the posterior columns. The novel part of this doctrine is the attributing of
a conducting function to the grey matter; although the grey substance
of the cord contains white fibres, these are comparatively few in number, and
the conclusion seems inevitable that a line of nervous communication is
maintained by the corpuscles of the cord and their connecting fibres. The
communication with the brain is maintained after cutting through the white
columns, provided the grey substance remains intact; or if, although cut
into at different places, it is nowhere completely severed. In the point of
special function, there is much uncertainty as between the anterior and
the posterior columns.
CXPERIMENTS ON THE SPINAL CORD. 39
though the will cannot move the paralyzed parts, movements
do occur in them of which the individual is unconscious, and
which he is wholly unable to prevent. These take place
sometimes as if spontaneously, at other times as the effect of
the application of a stimulus to some surface supplied by
spinal nerves. The apparently spontaneous movements
frequently resemble voluntary actions so closely, that it is
almost impossible to distinguish them.’ 7
‘The following experiments serve to illustrate these
actions : —
‘If a frog be pithed by dividing the spinal cord between
the occipital hole and the first vertebra, an universal convul-
sion takes place while the knife is passing through the
nervous centre. This, however, quickly subsides ; and, if the
animal be placed on the table, he will assume his ordinary
position of rest. In some exceptional cases, however, frequent
combined movements of the lower extremities will take place
for a longer or shorter time after the operation ; when all
such disturbance has ceased, the animal remains perfectly
quiet, and as if in repose, nor does there appear to be the
slightest expression of pain or suffering. He is quite unable
to move by any voluntary effort. However one may try to
frighten him, he remains in the same place and posture. If
now a toe be pinched, instantly the limb is drawn up, or he
seems to push away the irritating agent, and then draws up
the leg again into its old position. Sometimes a stimulus of
this kind causes both limbs to be moved violently backwards.
A similar movement follows stimulation of the anus. If the
skin be pinched at any part, some neighbouring muscle or
muscles will be thrown into action. Irritation of the anterior
extremities will occasion movements in them: but it is
worthy of note that these movements are seldom so energetic
as those of the lower extremities. —Topp and Bowmay, L,
308-9.
These and other experiments prove, that to the cord
belongs a power of originating movements, at the instance of
stimulation applied to the surface or extremities of the body.
40 THE NERVOUS SYSTEM.
This function must be attributed to the grey matter, or to
the mass of corpuscles enclosed in its substance. It is by
the corpuscles that a stimulation can be reflected, diverted,
or radiated into new channels. ‘The movements prompted
through the cord, by itself, may even be complex and
rhythmical, as standing and walking, and locomotion gene-
rally ; all which are possible to a certain extent, in many
animals, after loss of communication with the brain.
The independent action of the spinal cord, in man, is
shown in occasional acts of the reflex kind (to be afterwards
fully enumerated). When the foot of any one asleep, or under
chloroform, is tickled, the limb is withdrawn. In rupture of
the spinal cord, irritation of the legs will induce movements,
the patient being insensible to the effect.
There is one instance of muscular action by most physio-
logists ascribed to the spinal cord, and believed to have a
peculiar interest in this point of view; that is, the censzon,
tone, or tonicity of the muscles. By this is meant the fact
that a muscle is never wholly relaxed while the animal is
alive. Even in the perfect repose of sleep, there is yet a
certain vigour of contraction inhering in all the muscles of
the body. ‘The force of contraction is increased at the
moment of wakening, and still more when an effort is to be
made; but at no time is the relaxation total; the limbs never
dangle like a loosely constructed doll, until after the animal
is dead.
The experiments relied upon for showing that the perma-
nent tension of the muscle is in part due to spinal influence,
are very striking and not easily explained away. I quote
from Dr, Carpenter: ‘It has been proved by Dr. Marshall
Hall that the muscular Tension is not dependent on the
influence of the Brain but upon that of the Spinal Cord, as
the following experiments demonstrate: T'wo Rabbits were
taken: from one the head was removed ; from the other also
the head was removed, and the spinal marrow was cautiously
destroyed with a sharp instrument: the limbs of the former
retained a certain degree of firmness and elasticity ; those of
FUNCTIONS OF THE MEDULLA OBLONGATA. 41
the second were perfectly lax. Again: ‘The limbs and tail
of a decapitated turtle possessed a certain degree of firmness
and tone, recoiled on being drawn from their position, and
moved with energy on the application of a stimulus. On
withdrawing the spinal marrow gently out of its canal, all
these phenomena ceased. The limbs were no longer obedient
to stimuli, and became perfectly flaccid, having lost all their
resilience. The sphincter lost its circular form and contracted
state, becoming lax, flaccid, and shapeless. The tail was
flaccid.’—(Carpenter, p. 700.) Here we see that the discon-
necting of the muscles from the brain still leaves them in a
tense condition; whereas that tension gives way the instant the
spinal cord is removed; whence we infer that there is an
internal source of nervous energy, independent of stimulation
from without, although greatly enhanced by the application
of the stimulants of the senses. The importance of this fact
will be afterwards seen.
15. The Medulla Oblongata, being a continuation of the
spinal cord, with additional deposits of grey substance, has the
same importance as respects the communication of impressions
to and from the brain, but operates more widely in the way
of diffusing, transferring, diverting, radiating, and reflecting
nervous stimuli. Many of its corpuscles must have for their
function the upward spread and ramification of fibres ; while
some serve for lateral communication, and others for the
reflex function, which probably attains its highest develop-
ment in this portion of-the cerebro-spinal axis.
Most of the cerebral. nerves arise from the medulla
oblongata. It is the proximate centre of hearing and taste ;
of the sensibility of the face, the pharynx, larynx, windpipe,
and bronchial tubes ; and of the heart, lungs, and stomach.
Among reflex movements operated by means of it are—
the contraction of the Pupil, and the closure of the Eye-lid,
under the stimulus of light; the act of Deglutition ; Sucking
in the infant; and, lastly, the capital function of ordinary
Respiration.
42 : THE NERVOUS SYSTEM.
Functions of the lesser grey centres of the Brain.
16. These various masses lying between the medulla
oblongata and the convoluted. hemispheres, must be con-
sidered still as the continuation upward of the main stem of
the brain, with multiplying, ramifying, and collateral com-
munications through the aggregates of corpuscles in the grey
portions of each. The paths of sensory impressions upwards,
and of motor impressions downwards, must lie in these
bodies, although the two lines are not always exhibited in
marked local separation. There are also certain instances of
the reflex function embodied in these centres. .
The Pons Varolit, with the crura cerebri, is to be viewed
in great part as a continuation of the spinal cord towards the
brain, in which capacity it is essential to sensation and to
volition. _The paths of sensation are supposed to be through
the fibres and grey substance of the central and posterior
portions ; the paths of voluntary motion, through the fibres
of the anterior and under portions.
By. means .of the grey centres of the pons, there are
manifested reflex acts of a marked and powerful kind. It
shares’ in the regulation of: the pupil of the eye. More
remarkable is its mediation in the prominent movements of
expression, as, gesticulation and cries.. It has also, in an
eminent degree, ' the function of grouping or. associating the
movements; so. long as it:remains, the locomotive rhythm
can be maintained, although, after the destruction of the
hemispheres, there is no longer a spontaneous commencement
of movements. While the pons, and all the centres beneath
it, are intact, an animal will: retain and secure the erect
posture. Lastly, the removal of the parts above the pons
does not take away the promptings to remedy uneasiness, and
to remove irritating agents.’ This is the continuation of that
exceptional: function of the spinal cord, whereby, in the
inferior animals, it can give birth to actions apparently of a
voluntary character (see Note, p. 45).
It is in connexion with the pons that we have the most
FUNCTIONS OF THE PONS VAROLII. 43
conspicuous manifestations of the curious fact of rotatory
movement in animals, arising on injuries of parts of the
brain. Thus, when the transverse fibres leading to the cere-
bellum are cut on one side, the animal revolves, as if on a
spit, towards the injured side. Accompanying the rotation,
there is a downward movement of the eye-ball on the injured
side, and also rolling movements inthe other eye. The
effects are arrested. by cutting the. corresponding fibres
leading to the other half of the cerebellum. In. reality, the
cerebellum may be considered the seat of the disturbance in
the case now supposed ; ‘still the movements may also arise
by a partial section of one of the cerebral crura or peduncles
(in the heart of the pons), but they are’in the opposite
direction, that is, away from the injured side.. A complete
section of one peduncle. causes.the animal to fall on the
opposite side,.on which ‘side the stimulus to the muscles
survives, |
These rotatory movements: likewise follow from uni-
lateral incisions; injuries, and diseases,. in the corpora striata,
thalami optici, corpora quadrigemina,. cerebellum, medulla
oblongata, and lastly,: the auditory nerve, and the semi-
circular canals of the ear.» The: sensation of giddiness or
vertigo corresponds to the same: class of effects ; a sensation
known to be caused by whirling movements, even although
voluntary, and: by rapid visual: movements, as. well as by
alcoholic stimulation and other cerebral derangements. |
The hypothesis suggested: by this: singular manifestation
is, that there exists, in’. permanence,.a powerful nervous
stimulation to the muscles of the two sides of the body, such
as would cause an’ energetic propulsion of each. In the
ordinary condition, the two sets of stimuli are balanced, and
produce an equilibrium, disturbed only by the slight remis-
sions necessary for locomotion and other voluntary exertions.
The destruction of the nervous tracks or centres, on one half
of the body, leaves a preponderance on the other; and the
one-sided movements, that are seen in consequence, testify
how energetic the persistent current must be. If this be the
AA THE NERVOUS SYSTEM.
true interpretation of the phenomenon, we obtain from it a
striking confirmation of the doctrine (to be afterwards ad-
verted to) of internal or self-originated movements, as con-
trasted with the movements from outward stimulation.
17. The cerebral ganglion named the Corpora Quadrt-
gemina is associated with the power of sight. Its destruction
produces blindness, and also a permanent dilatation and
immobility of the pupil of the eye. The destruction of one
side causes loss of vision on the opposite side; but the irri-
tation of one side will produce contraction of both pupils.
The partial removal of the ganglion is attended with partial
and temporary blindness, debility of the muscles on the
opposite side of the body, and sometimes giddiness and slight
rotatory movements. The anatomical connexions with the
optic nerve also point to the conclusion, that the principal
track of visual impressions to the brain is by the corpora
quadrigemina.
18. Notwithstanding its name, the large ganglion called »
Optic Thalami has but little relationship to the sense of
vision. Being in immediate connexion with the hemispheres,
it is the final organ of multiplication or diffusion of fibres
coming from below; and is supposed to consist chiefly of the
sensory tracts. Like the other ganglia, it is inferred to
contain fibres reflected downwards, as well as those diffused
into the hemispheres. Experiments appear to show that it
contributes to the function of co-ordinating movements, such
as those of locomotion and emotional expression. Section
on one side causes rotatory movements, usually towards the
opposite side.
19. The other great ganglionic mass at the entrance to
the hemispheres, the Corpora Striata, is believed to contain
principally the motor fibres. We are to presume that the
large amount of grey matter 1s chiefly concerned in mul-
tiplying the fibres entering into the hemispheres, but partly
also in reflecting them downwards, so as to constitute circuits
of reflex movements. The collective reflected fibres of all the
ganglia at the base of the brain, together with the cerebellum,
FUNCTIONS OF THE CEREBRAL HEMISPHERES. 45
are considered as making up a department or region, which is
the seat of reflex acts, and of a large number of grouped or
associated movements, involved alike in voluntary action and
in emotional expression. It is not unlikely that conscious-
ness accompanies the reflected, as well as the transmitted,
currents of this whole region.
Funetions of the Cerebral Hemispheres.
20. The Convoluted Hemispheres of the brain, in man and
in the higher animals, are by far the largest mass of nervous
substance, white and grey, and may be considered as associated
with the most complicated of the mental functions, namely,
those related to Intelligence.
Cutting or pricking the hemispheres is not attended with
either sensation or movement. Pressure from above down-
wards, or concussion, produces stupor. When the hemi-
spheres are removed, the following results are observed :—
First, the two higher senses, Sight and Hearing, are lost.
Secondly, Memory, and all the powers characteristic of in-
tellect or thought, are abolished. Thirdly, Volition, in the
shape of purpose and forethought, is extinguished.* This is
involved in the loss of intelligence. An animal cannot
proceed in the search for food, without ideas of what it wants,
and a recollection of the means or instrumentality of pro-
cedure. Fourthly, there is still a power of accomplishing
mary connected movements. An animal may walk, swim, or
fly, but there is no tendency to begin these actions. Fifthly,
* A lower kind of volition is possible in the absence of the hemispheres,
as is shown by the experiments of Pfliiger and others. A beheaded frog,
whose hind foot is touched with an acid, makes efforts with the other hind
foot to wipe away the acid. If a drop is placed on the back, on one side, the
animal uses the leg on that side to relieve itself of the sting; but, if
by cutting the nerve that legis rendered powerless, the other leg is stimulated
to remove the acid. These actions have the essential character of voluntary
actions, and yet they proceed from no higher a centre than the spinal cord.
They represent volition in one of its initial or undeveloped forms, the putting
forth of action, to alleviate a present pain. The appearances would betoken
that the pain is felt, or that the animal is conscious.
46 THE NERVOUS SYSTEM.
there remains an inferior form of the sensibility of the three
lower senses—Touch, Taste, and Smell. By stimuli applied
to these senses, reflex movements may be excited.
Thus, the hemispheres are not the exclusive seat of con-
sciousness, but they are doubtless the seat both of Intelligence
and of nearly all the innumerable shades and varieties of
Sensation and Emotion.
The attempt to localize the mental functions in special
portions of the cerebral mass, has been thwarted by observa-
tions of a remarkable kind. The phrenologists noticed cases
where the destruction or disease of one hemisphere was un-
accompanied with the entire loss of any function; the in-
ference being that the hemispheres were duplicate bodies
performing the same office, like the two eyes, or the two
halves of the nostrils. But cases have been recorded of
disease of large portions of the brain in both hemispheres at
once, without apparent loss of function ; which would require
us to extend still farther the supposition of a plurality of
nervous tracks for a single mental aptitude.
Functions of the Cerebellum.
21. The experiments made upon the Cerebellum, and the
inferences founded upon its comparative size in different
animals, have led some physiologists to assign to it the
function of harmonizing and co-ordinating the locomotive
and other movements.
‘Flourens removed the cerebellum from pigeons by suc-
cessive slices. During the removal of the superficial layers
there appeared only a slight feebleness and want of harmony
in the movements, without any expression of pain. On
reaching the middle layers, an almost universal agitation
was manifested, without any sign of convulsion; the animal
performed rapid and ill-regulated movements; it could hear
and see. After the removal of the deepest layers, the animal
lost completely the power of standing, walking, leaping, or
flying. ‘The power had been injured by the previous mutila-
FUNCTIONS OF THE CEREBELLUM. 47
tions, but now it was completely gone. When placed. upon
his back, he was unable to rise. . He did not, however,
remain quiet and motionless, as pigeons deprived of the
cerebral hemispheres do; but evinced an incessant rest-
lessness, and an inability to accomplish any regular or
definite movement. He could see the instrument raised to
threaten him with a blow, and would make a thousand
contortions to avoid it, but did not escape. Volition and
sensation remained—the power of executing movements
remained ; but that of co-ordinating these movements into
regular and combined actions was lost.
‘Animals deprived of the cerebellum are in a condition
very similar to that of a drunken man, so far as relates to
their power of locomotion. They are unable to produce that
combination of action in different sets of muscles which is
necessary to enable them to assume or maintain any atti-
tudes. They cannot stand still for a moment, and in
attempting to walk, their gait is unsteady, they totter from
side to side, and their progress is interrupted by frequent
falls. The fruitless attempts which they make to stand or
walk are sufficient proof that a certain degree of intelligence
remains, and that voluntary power continues to be enjoyed.’
(Topp and Bowmay, L., p. 359.)
When the cerebellum is cut away at the top, the aninal
moves backward. When one side is cut away, the animal
rolls over to the other side; the eye of the sound side is
turned outwards and downwards, the other eye inwards and
upwards. Sometimes a vertiginous action ensues, as if the
body were revolved on a spit.
The inference drawn from these experiments—that the cere-
bellum is the exclusive seat of combined movements—is denied
by Dr. Brown-Séquard. He says—‘I have ascertained that it is
by the irritation they produce on the various parts of the base of
the brain that the diseases of the cerebellum, or its extirpation in
animals, cause the disorder of movements which has been con-
sidered as depending upon the absence of a guiding power. In
fact, the least irritation of several parts of the brain with only the
48 THE NERVOUS SYSTEM.
point of a needle, may generate very nearly the same disorder of
movement that follows the extirpation of the cerebellum. I
have thus been led to conclude that, after this extirpation, or
after the destruction by disease of a large or small part of this
nervous centre, it is not its absence, but some irritative influence
upon the parts of the encephalon that remain unaltered which
causes the irregularity of movements (Lectures, p. 79).
This line of criticism has the defect of proving too much; it
would lead to the conclusion that the cerebellum has no function.
The views of Flourens have been recently supported by M.
Vulpian; who, after comparing numerous facts, has shown that,
although disease or deficiency of the cerebellum is not uniformly
attended with utter incapability of locomotion, yet there is a
want of steadiness, and a great liability to stumble, in such
instances. The safest inference at present seems to be, that
the cerebellum is not the sole organ concerned in rhythmical
or combined movements, but concurs with some of the other
ganglia in upholding this function. The remark above made,
regarding the plurality of nervous tracks for the higher cerebral
aptitudes, may be extended to the inferior department of the com-
bined or associated movements.
Of the Nerve Force, and the course of Power in the Brain.
22. The structure of the nervous substance, and the ex-
periments made upon the nerves and nerve centres, establish
beyond doubt certain peculiarities as belonging to the force
that is exercised by the brain. This force is of a current
nature; that is to say, a power generated at one part of the
structure is conveyed along an intervening substance, and
discharged at some other part. The different forms of Elec-
tricity and Magnetism have made us familiar with this sort
of action. In a voltaic cell, energy is generated and trans-
mitted along a wire with inconceivable rapidity to any place
where the conductor reaches.
This portable, or current, character of the nerve force is
what enables movements, distant from one another in the
body, to be associated together under a common stimulus.
THE NERVE FORCE. 49°
An impression of sound—a musical note, for example, is
carried to the brain; the result is a responsive action and
excitement extending to the voice, mouth, eyes, head, &c.
This multiplex and various manifestation implies a system
of connexion among the centres of action, whereby many
strings can be touched from one point; a connexion due to
the conducting nerves that pass and repass from centre to
centre, and from the centres to the muscular apparatus over
the body. Supposing the corpora quadrigemina to be a
centre for the sense of vision, an impression passing to this
centre propagates a movement towards many other centres,—
to the convoluted hemispheres upwards, to the cerebellum
behind, and to the medulla oblongata and spinal cord beneath ;
and through these various connexions an extensive wave of
effects may be produced, ending in a complicated chain of
movements all over the framework of the body. Such a
system of intercommunication and transmission of power is
therefore an essential part of the bodily and mental structure.
23. The experiments of Du Bois Reymond, show that
there is a community of nature between the nerve force
and common electricity. Electric currents are constantly
maintained in the nerves and muscles, their character being
changed during sensation and muscular contraction. The
direction of these currents has been minutely examined by
Du Bois Reymond, aud he lays down a number of general
principles regarding them. ‘The following are some of his
conclusions :—
‘The muscles and nerves, including the brain and spinal
cord, are endowed during life with an electro-motive power.’
‘This electro-motive power acts according to a definite law,
which is the same in the nerves and in the muscles, the law of
the antagonism of the longitudinal and the transverse sections.
The longitudinal surface is positive, and the transverse section
negative.’
‘Every minute particle of the nerves and the muscles must
be supposed to act according to the same law as the whole nerve
or muscle.’ The total currents are, in fact, the combined effect
of these currents circulating round the ultimate particles.
4
50 THE NERVOUS SYSTEM.
‘The current in muscles when in the act of contraction, and
in nerves when conveying motion, or sensation, undergoes a
sudden and great negative variation of its intensity.’ ‘It has
not been ascertained whether, in the act of contraction, the mus-
cular current is only diminished, or wholly vanishes, or whether
it changes its direction.’
Thus the proper nerve force—that is to say, the currents
in the nerves during sensation and movement—is so far in
unison with electricity, that it neutralizes and reverses
genuine electrical currents proved to exist in the nerves and
muscles in their condition of rest. This is the utmost that
can be said in the present state of our knowledge. Even
granting that the force conveyed along the nerves during the
mental processes were identical with voltaic electricity, the
character of the nerve substance would create some points of
contrast between the phenomena of vital action and a common
voltaic battery. The conducting power of nerve fibre is at-
tended with nervous waste, and the substance has to be con-
stantly renewed from the blood, which is largely supplied to the
nerves, although perhaps not so largely as to the vesicles.
If now we compare this liability to waste and exhaustion
with the undying endurance of an electric wire, we shall be
struck with a very great contrast. The wire is doubtless a
more compact, resisting, and sluggish mass; the conduction
requires a. certain energy of electric action to set it agoing,
and in the course of a great distance becomes faint and dies
away. ‘The nerve, on the other hand, is stimulated by a
slighter influence, and propagates that influence, with in-
crease, by the consumption of its own material. The wire
must be acted on at both ends, by the closure of the circuit,
before acting as a conductor in any degree; the nerve takes
fire from a slight stimulus like a train of gunpowder, and is
wasted by the current that it propagates. If this view be
correct, the influence conveyed is much more beholden to
the conducting fibres, than electricity is to the copper wire.
The fibres are made to sustain or increase the force at the
cost of their own substance.
SOURCE OF THE NERVE FORCE. 51
The nerve force is propagated more slowly than an electric
current through a wire. ‘The rate has been estimated at
about 200 feet a second on an average. (It is to be remarked
that a nerve is not a simple conductor, but is supposed to
consist of a countless number of molecules, each of which
has, playing round it, an electrical current, or currents, which
are an obstacle to the simple or direct propagation.) There
is always a certain delay in passing through the nerve
centres; a reflex movement occupies from z/5 to 75 of a
second under favourable circumstances, which is more time
than would be required for transmitting an influence through
the same length of nerve without interruption. When the
stimulus is weak, a proportionally longer time is required to
produce the corresponding movement. We may suppose that
what is called nervous excitement is a quicker rate of the
nervous current.
24, It is now an admitted doctrine that the nervous power
is generated from the action of the nutriment supphed to the
body, and is therefore of the class of forces having a common
origin, and capable of being mutually converted—including
mechanical momentum, heat, electricity, magnetism, and
chemical decomposition. The power that animates the human
frame and keeps alive the currents of the brain, has its origin
in the grand primal source of reviving power, the Sun; his
influence exerted on vegetation builds up the structures whose
destruction and decay within the animal system give forth
all the energy concerned in maintaining the animal processes.
What is called vitality is not a peculiar force, but a collocation
of the forces of inorganic matter in such a way as to keep
up a living structure. If our means of observation and
measurement were perfect, we might render an account of all
the nutriment consumed in any animal or human being ; we
might calculate the entire amount of energy evolved in the
changes that make up this consumption, and allow one
portion for animal heat, another for the processes of secretion,
a third for the action of the heart, lungs, and intestines, a
fourth for the muscular exertion made within the period, a
$e
LIBRARY
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UNIVE eRSITY OF Hs Ne
52 THE NERVOUS SYSTEM.
fifth for the activity of the brain, and so on till we had a strict
balancing of receipt and expenditure. The nerve force that
is derived from the waste of a given amount of food, is
capable of being transmuted into any other form of animal
life. Poured into the muscles during violent conscious effort,
it increases their activity ; passing to the alimentary canal, it
aids in the force of digestion ; at other points it is converted
into sensible heat ; while the same power is found capable of
yielding true electrical currents. The evidence that estab-
lishes the common basis of mechanical and chemical force,
heat, and electricity—namely, their mutual convertibility and
common origin—establishes the nerve force as a member of
the same group. |
25. The current character of the nerve force, leads to a
considerable departure from the ancient mode of viewing the
position of the brain as the organ of mind. We have seen
that the cerebrum is a mixed mass of grey and white matter,
—the matter of centres and the matter of conduction. Both
are required in any act of the brain known to us. The
smallest cerebral operation includes the transmission of an
influence from one centre to another centre, from a centre to
an extremity, or the reverse. Hence we cannot separate the
centres from their communicating branches; and if so, we
cannot separate the centres from the other organs of the body
that originate or receive the nerve stimulation. The organ of
mind is not the brain by itself: it is the brain, nerves,
muscles, organs of sense and viscera. When the brain is in
action, there is some transmission of nerve power, and the
organ that receives, or that originated, the power, is an
essential part of the circle of mechanism.
The notion that the brain is a sensoriwm, or inner
chamber, where impressions are accumulated, like pictures
put away in a store, requires to be modified and corrected.
The brain is highly retentive of the impressions made upon
it; they are embodied in its structure, and are a part of its
srowth. They may be reproduced on after occasions, and
then what we find is a series of currents and counter currents,
SUPPLY OF BLOOD TO THE NERVES. 53
much the same as what existed when the impression was first
made. When the mind is in the exercise of its functions,
the physical accompaniment is the passing and re-passing of
innumerable streams of nervous influence. Whether under
a sensation of something actual, or under an emotion or an
idea, or a train of ideas, the general operation is still the same.
It seems as if we might say, no currents, no mind. The
transmission of ivfluence along the nerve fibres from place to
place, seems the very essence of cerebral action. This trans-
mission, moreover, must not be confined within the limits of
the brain : not only could no movements be kept up and no
sensation received by the brain alone, but it is uncertain how
far even thought, reminiscence, or the emotions of the past
and absent, could be sustained without the more distant
communications between the brain and the rest of the body
—the organs of sense and of movement.
The more immediate source of nervous power is an abundant
supply of blood. The arrest of the circulation in the brain, by
stoppage of the heart, or by pressure on the head, is followed by
loss of consciousness. On the other hand, excessive rapidity of
the circulation quickens the thoughts and feelings, in other words,
is productive of excitement, which may amount even to delirium.
Again, as regards the quality of the blood, excess of carbonic
acid, of urea, or of the other impurities removed by the excreting
organs, depresses or destroys the mental function; the same effect
arising from deficiency of nutritive material. And, obversely,
abundance of nourishment, the full exercise of the purifying
organs, and the presence of the agents known as stimulants, by
affecting the quality of the blood, impart exhilaration and vigour
to the mental functions.
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MOVEMENT, SENSE, AND INSTINCT.
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MAT ied My
WE now commence the subject of MIND proper, or the
enumeration and explanation of the states and
varieties of Feeling, the modes of Action, and the powers of
Intelligence, comprised in the mental nature of man.
In the First Book, which is to comprehend the Movs-
MENTS, SENSATIONS, APPETITES, and Instincts, I propose to
deal with what may be termed the inferior region of mind, the
inferiority being marked by the absence, in any great degree,
of Intellect and cultivation. This is the region wherein man
may be most extensively compared with the brute creation,
whose intelligence and education are comparatively small.
When the powers of a superior intellect, and the example and
acquirements of former generations, are superadded to the
primitive Sensations and Instincts, there results a higher
class of combinations, more difficult to analyze and describe,
and belonging therefore more properly to a later stage of the
exposition. /
Tt will, however, be remarked as a novelty in the plan thus
announced, that the Appetites and Instincts have been
included in the same department as the Sensations. In the
works of former writers on Mental Science, as, for example,
Reid, Stewart, Brown, and Mill, those portions of our nature
have been included among the general group of ACTIVE
Powers, including Desire, Habit, and the Will. My reasons
for departing from the example of these eminent writers are
the following. | In the first place, the Appetites and Instincts
are scarcely at all connected with the higher operations of
intelligence, and therefore they do not require to be preceded
by the exposition of the Intellect ; everything necessary to be
said respecting them may be given as soon as the Sensations
58 MOVEMENT, SENSE, AND INSTINCT.
.are discussed. In the second place, I hope to make it
appear, that the illustration of the Intellectual processes will
gain by the circumstance that Appetite and Instinct have
been previously gone into. Thirdly, the connexion of
Appetite with Sensation is of the closest kind. Fourthly, as
regards Instinct, I conceive it to be proper to render an
account of all that is primitive in our nature—all our un-
taught activities—before entering upon the process of acquisi-
tior as treated of under the Intellect.’ In addition to these
reasons stated in advance, I trust to the impression produced
by the effect of the arrangement itself, for the complete
justification of my departure from the plan of my prede-
CeSsors.
The division of the present Book will be into four chapters.
The subject of Chapter first 1s ACTION and MOVEMENT
considered as spontaneous, together with the Feelings and
Perceptions resulting from muscular activity.
Chapter second comprehends the SENSES and SENSATIONS.
Chapter third treats of the APPETITES.
Chapter fourth includes the INSTINCTS, or the untaught
Movements, and also the primitive rudiments of Emotion and
of Volition. These last subjects are necessary in order to
complete the plan of the present Book, which professes to
exhaust all the primitive germs, whether of Action or Feeling,
belonging to our nature, before proceeding to the consideration
of intelligence and acquisition. In the complete system of
the mind, the Intellect is thus placed midway between the
instinctive and the cultivated emotions and activities, being
itself the instrument for converting the one class into the
other,
Sete ete bs
OF SPONTANEOUS ACTIVITY AND THE FEELINGS OF
MOVEMENT.
ik le: feelings connected with the movements of the body
or the action of the muscles, are now recognized as a
distinct class, differing materially from the sensations of the
five senses. They are often regarded as proceeding from a
Sense apart, a sixth, or Muscular Sense, and have accordingly
been enrolled under the general head of sensations. That
they are to be dealt with asa class by themselves, no less
than sounds or sights, love, irascibility, or the emotion of the
ludicrous, is generally admitted.
With regard, however, to the position of this class of feel-
ings in the plan or arrangement of our subject, there is still
room for differences of opinion. In my judgment they ought
not to be classed with the Sensations of the five Senses ; and
I believe further that the consideration of them should pre-
cede the exposition of the Senses. The reasons for this opinion
are the two following :—namely, that movement precedes
sensation, and is at the outset independent of any stimulus
from without ; and that action is a more intimate and insepar-
able property of our constitution than any of our sensations,
and in fact enters as a component part into every one of the
senses, giving them the character of compounds while itself
is a simple and elementary property. These assertions re-
quire to be proved in detail, but before doing so, it is advisable
to notice briefly the mechanism or anatomy of movement in
the animal frame.
OF THE MUSCULAR SYSTEM.
2. Muscular Tissue.—‘ The muscular tissue is that by means of
which the active movements of the body are produced. It con-
60 THE MUSCULAR SYSTEM.
sists of fine fibres, which are for the most part collected into
distinct organs, called muscles, and in this form it is familiarly
known as the flesh of animals; these fibres are also disposed
round the sides of cavities and between the coats of hollow
viscera, forming strata of greater or less thickness. The
muscular fibres are endowed with contractility—a remarkable and
characteristic property, by virtue of which they shrink or contract
more or less rapidly under the influence of certain causes which
are capable of exciting or calling into play the property in
question, and which are therefore named stimuli. A large class
of muscles, comprehending those of locomotion, respiration, ex-
pression, and some others, are excited by the stimulus of the
will, or volition, acting on them through the nerves; these are
therefore named ‘voluntary muscles,’ although some of them
habitually, and all occasionally, act also in obedience to other
stimuli, There are other muscles or muscular fibres which are
entirely withdrawn from the control of the will, such as those
of the heart and intestinal canal, and these are accordingly
named ‘involuntary.’ These two classes of muscles differ not
only in the mode in which they are excited to act, but also to a
certain extent in their anatomical characters.’—SHARPEY ; QUAIN’S
Anatomy.
Structure of Voluntary Muscles.—‘The voluntary muscular
fibres are for the most part gathered together into distinct masses,
or muscles of various sizes and shapes, but most generally of an
oblong form, and furnished with tendons at either extremity, by
which they are fixed to the bones. The two attached extremities
of a muscle are named, in anatomical descriptions, its origin and
insertion,—the former term being usually applied to the attach-
ment which is considered to be most fixed, although the rule
cannot always be applied strictly. The fleshy part is named the
belly.
‘The muscular fibres are collected into packets or bundles of
greater or less thickness, named fasciculi, or lacerti, and the
fibres themselves consist of much finer threads visible by the aid
of the microscope, which are termed muscular filaments, or
fibrillee.
‘ The fibres, although they differ somewhat in size individually,
have the same average diameter in all the voluntary muscles,
namely, about z>> of an inch; and this holds good whether the
THE MUSCLES. 61
muscles be coarse or fine in their obvious texture. According to
_ Mr. Bowman their average size is somewhat greater in the male
than in the female, being in the former 34, and in the later 74,
or more than a fourth smaller.’—Jb.
‘As to the structure of fibres, it has been ascertained that
each is made up of a larger number of extremely fine filaments
or fibrils, inclosed in a tubular sheath.’ ‘It would seem that the
elementary particles of which the fibril is made up, are little
masses of pellucid substance presenting a rectangular outline, and
appearing dark in the centre.’ ‘The length of the elementary
particles is estimated by Mr. Bowman at 5755 of an inch. He
finds that their size is remarkably uniform in mammalia, birds,
reptiles, fishes, and insects.’—JD. .
Nerves of Voluntary Muscles.—‘ The nerves of a voluntary
muscle are of considerable size. Their branches pass between
the fasciculi, and repeatedly unite with each other in form of a
plexus, which is for the most part confined to a small part of the
muscle, or muscular division in which it lies. From one or more
of such primary plexuses nervous twigs proceed and end by finer
or terminal plexuses, formed by slender bundles consisting of two
or three primitive tubules each, some of them separating into
single tubules.— Ib.
‘By means of the microscope these fine nervous bundles and
single tubules may be observed to pass between the muscular
fibres, and after a longer or shorter course, to return to the plexus.
They cross the direction of the muscular fibres directly or
obliquely, forming wide arches; and on their return they either
rejoin the larger nervous bundles from which they set out, or
enter into other divisions of the plexts. The nervous filaments,
therefore, do not come to an end in the muscle, but form loops or
strings amung its fibres.’—Ib.*
I refrain from entering into the description given of the
involuntary muscles,—those of the heart, intestines, bronchial
tubes, iris, middle coat of the arteries, &c.—as being less
important for the object of the present work. It will, how-
* The active connexion between the nerves and the muscles would seem
to consist in an electrical current passing from the one to the other. The
numerous experiments of Du Bois Reymond and others in this subject,
scarcely permit any other conclusion.
62 THE MUSCULAR SYSTEM.
ever, be interesting to hear what the same authority has said
on the Sensibility of muscle, and also on the Contractility, or
the source of its power as a mechanical prime mover.
3. Sensibility.—‘ This property is manifested by the pain which
is felt when a muscle is cut or lacerated, or otherwise violently
injured, or when it is seized with spasm. Here, as in other
instances, the sensibility, properly speaking, belongs to the nerves
which are distributed through the tissue, and accordingly, when
the nerves going to a muscle are cut, it forthwith becomes insen-
sible. It is by means of this property, which is sometimes called
the ‘muscular sense,’ that we become conscious of the existing
state of the muscles which are subject to the will, or rather of
the condition of the limbs and other parts which are moved
through means of the voluntary muscles, and we are thereby
guided in directing our voluntary movements towards the end in
view. Accordingly, when the muscular sense is lost, while the
power of motion remains,—a case which, though rare, sometimes
occurs,—the person cannot direct the movements of the affected
limbs without the guidance of the eye.’
On this passage I would remark that the two sensibilities
described differ very much in their character. The sensibility
to injuries is a fact distinct from those feelings of the state of
voluntary muscles that serve to guide the movements in
working for ends. The one is the passive, and the other the
active, sensibility of muscle.
4. Irritability or Contractility.—‘ In order to cause contraction,
the muscle must be excited by a stimulus. The stimulus may be
applied immediately to the muscular tissue, as when the fibres
are irritated by a sharp point; or it may be applied to the nerve
or nerves which belong to the muscle; in the former case the
stimulus is said to be ‘immediate,’ in the latter ‘‘ remote.”
The nerve does not contract, but it has the property, when
stimulated, of exciting contractions in the muscular fibres to
which it is distributed, and this property, named the “vis nervosa’
(true nervous force), is distinguished from contractility, which is
confined tothe muscle. Again, a stimulus may be either directly
applied to the nerve of the muscle, as when that nerve is itself
mechanically irritated or galvanized ; or it may be first made to
THE STIMULI TO MUSCLES. 63
act on certain other nerves, by which its influence is, so to speak,
conducted in the first instance to the brain or spinal cord (or
perhaps even to some subordinate nervous centre) and thence
transferred or reflected to the muscular nerve.
‘The stimuli to which muscles are obedient are of various
kinds; those best ascertained are the following, viz. :—1. Me-
chanical irritation of almost any sort, under which head is to be
included sudden extension of the muscular fibres. 2. Chemical
stimuli, as by the application of salt or acrid substances. 38.
Electrical ; usually by means of a galvanic current made to pass
through the muscular fibres, or along the nerve. 4. Sudden heat
or cold. / These four may be classed together as physical stimuli.
Next, mental stimuli, viz.—1. The operation of the will, or voli-
tion. 2. Emotions, and some other involuntary states of the
mind. Lastly, there still remain exciting causes of muscular
motions in the economy which, although they may probably turn
out to be physical, are as yet of doubtful nature, and these, until
better known, may perhaps, without impropriety, be called
organic stimuli; to this head may be also referred, at least pro-
visionally, some of the stimuli which excite convulsions and other
involuntary motions which occur in disease.’—p. clxxvil.
Of the stimuli thus enumerated the most interesting to us
are the mental stimuli. These are described as of two kinds ;
the Emotions —or the influence of the ’eelings—and the Will.
A third kind is the Spontaneous force to be presently dis-
cussed. _/There is one other property of muscle, alluded to in
the previous chapter, which is described as follows :—
5. Tonicity or Tonic Contraction‘ Although in muscles
generally, contraction is succeeded by complete relaxation, there
are various muscles which, after apparently ceasing to contract,
remain in a state of tension, and have still a certain tendency to
approximate their points of attachment, altbough this tendency
is counterbalanced by antagonistic muscles, which are in the
same condition, and the limb or other moveable part is thus
maintained at rest. This condition of muscle is named “tonicity,”
or the “tonic state.’ It is no doubt a species of contraction, as
well as the more conspicuous and powerful action with which it
alternates ; but it is employed merely to maintain equilibrium,
not to cause motion, and it is not temporary but enduring— con-
64 SPONTANEOUS ACTIVITY.
tinuing during sleep when volition is in abeyance, and occasioning
no fatigue. It appears to be excited through the medium of the
nerves, though independently of the will, for when the nerves
are cut it ceases, and then the muscles nearly become flaccid :
the stimulus which acts on the nerves is not known.’
PROOFS OF SPONTANEOUS ACTIVITY.
6. We have now to consider the evidence that there is
for the existence of a class of movements and actions,
anterior to, and independent of, the sensations of the senses.
This question, brought on here to settle a point of preced-
ence or arrangement, has a far wider.import, and will
re-appear on various occasions in the course of the subse-
quent exposition. |
The proofs principally relied on are the following :—
(1.) The already mentioned fact of the Tonicity of muscles.
This fact I regard as proving the existence of a central
stimulus in the nervous system. The tonicity does not,
indeed, amount to actual movement ; still, it is only a lower
degree of the same thing: and what one centre does in a
low degree, another may do in a higher; the peculiar mode
of operation is established as a fact of the nervous mechanism.*
(2.) The permanent closure of certain of the muscles—
those named sphincters—is an effect of the same nature as
the tonicity, but displaying a more energetic stimulus still,
* Some physiologists would ascribe the tonicity, not to the exclusive
influence of the centres, but to the existence of a constant stimulation pro-
ceeding from the extremities by the incarrying nerves. They allege in support
of this view, that when all the sensory roots of the spine are cut, the tonicity
disappears. This, however, would not affect the general doctrine in question.
Granting that the muscular stimulus is in one sense reflex, and arises from
a perennial irritation of the incarrying fibres, this constant irritation is not
what we usually understand by stimulation from without. It isa current
arising out of some constant condition of the sensitive tissues, and not out of
visible and remitted applications to the parts. A constant stimulus is no
stimulus at all. The real point is—given a certain intensity of outward
stimulation, the resulting movements will vary according to the condition of
the nerves and nerve centres; the same stimulus finding at one time a feeble,
and at another time an energetic, response.
PROOFS OF SPONTANEOUS ACTIVITY. 65
such as we can refer only to central influence. It cannot
be referred to any impression from without. Neither can
it be wholly ascribed to the muscle’s own contractility,
seeing that the destruction, or paralysis, of certain of the
centres leads to the total relaxation of those muscles.
The singular rotatory movements, arising from uni-lateral
section of the pons ‘varolii and other ganglia, suggest, in a
particularly marked manner, the existence of a high per-
manent charge of nervous power, ordinarily disguised by
being in a state of equilibrium.
(3.) It is not altogether irrelevant, to cite the activity
maintained by involuntary muscles, as showing the existence
of a mode of power originating with the nerve centres.
Nervous influence is required for maintaining the circulation
of the blood, the movement of the food along the alimentary
canal, &c., all which points to an inward evolution of force,
although modified by stimulation in the several organs. It
may be said that, when the movements are once commenced,
the completion of one may be a stimulus to the succeeding ;
still the question would recur—by what force does the heart
begin to beat?
Thus the notion of an initiative existing in the nerve
centres is borne out by the tonicity, by the action of the
sphincters, by the still more energetic movements of rotation,
and by the analogy of the involuntary muscles. Seeing that
the spinal cord and the other inferior ganglia are found
capable of originating muscular contractions, we are entitled
to suppose that the larger masses of the brain may be the
sources of a much more abundant and conspicuous activity
than these examples afford. The proofs that follow are
intended to put in evidence the existence of such movements.
(4.) In wakening from sleep, movement precedes sen-
sation, If light were essential to the movements concerned
in vision, it would be impossible to open the eyes. The act
of wakening from sleep can hardly be considered in any
other view, than as the reviving of the activity by a rush
of nervous power to the muscles, followed by the exposure
5
66 SPONTANEOUS ACTIVITY.
of the senses to the influences of the outer world. The first
symptom of awakening that presents itself is a general com-
motion of the frame, a number of spontaneous movements—
the stretching of the limbs, the opening of the eyes, the
expansion of the features—to all which succeeds the revival
of the sensibility to outward things. Mysterious as the
nature of sleep is in the present state of our knowledge, we
are not precluded from remarking so notable a circumstance,
as the priority of action to sensibility, at the moment of
wakening.*
But if this be a fact, we seem to prove, beyond a doubt,
that the renewed action must originate with the nerve
centres themselves. ‘The first gestures must be stimulated
from within; afterwards, they are linked with the gestures
and movements suggested by sense and revived by intel-
ligence and will. The higher degree of permanent tension
in the muscles when we are awake, is partly owing to the
increased central force of the waking states, and partly to the
stimulus of sensation. But in all cases, the share due to the
centres must be considerable, although rendered difficult to
estimate when mixed up with sensational stimulus. Thus
the force that keeps the eye open throughout the day, is in a
certain measure due to the spontaneous energy that opened it
at the waking moment, for that force does not necessarily
cease when the other force, the stimulus of light, commences.
We are at liberty to suppose that the nourished condition
of the nerves and nerve centres, consequent on the night’s
repose, is the cause of that burst of spontaneous exertion at
the moment of awakening. The antecedent of the activity is
physical rather than mental; and this must be the case with
spontaneous energy in general. When coupled with sen-
* This is maintained by Aristotle (Physica VIII. 2). He says that
these wakening movements come, not from sense, but from an internal
source. Some writers have taken the opposite view, but they have not, so
far as I am aware, adduced any decided facts in support of that view. If we
cannot establish an absolute priority of movement in the act of awakening, we
may, at least, maintain that movement concurs with, and does not follow,
the re-animation of the senses.
EXUBERANT ACTIVITY OF THE YOUNG. 67
sation, the character of the activity is modified so as to
render the spontaneity much less discernible.
(5.) The next proof is derived from the early movements
of Infancy. These I look upon as in great part due to the
spontaneous action of the centres. The mobility displayed
in the first stage of infant existence is known to be very
great ; and it continues to be shown in an exuberant degree
all through childhood and early youth. This mobility can
be attributed only to one of three causes. It may arise from
the stimulus of Sensation, that is, from the sights, sounds,
contacts, temperature, &c., of outward things. It may, in
the second place, be owing to Emotions, as love, fear,
anger. Or, lastly, the cause may be Spontaneous energy.
The two first-named influences, external sensation and
inward emction, are undoubted causes of active gesticulation
and movement. But the question is, Do they explain the
whole activity of early infancy and childhood? I think not,
and on evidence such as the following. We can easily
observe when any one is under the influence of vivid sen-
sation ; we can tell whether a child is acted on by sights, or
sounds, or tastes. And if the observation is carefully made,
I believe it will be found, that although the gesticulations of
infants are frequently excited by surrounding objects, there
are times when such influence is very little felt, and when,
nevertheless, the mobility of the frame is strongly manifested.
With regard to inward feelings, or emotions, the proof is not
so easy ; but here, too, there is a certain character belonging
to emotional movements, that serves to discriminate them
when they occur. The movements, gestures, and cries of
internal pain are well marked; so pleasurable feeling is
distinguished by the equally characteristic flow of smiles and
ecstatic utterance. If there be times of active gesticulation
and exercise that show no connexion with the sights and
sounds, or other influence of the outer world, and that have
no peculiar emotional character of the pleasurable or painful
kind, we can ascribe them to nothing but the mere abund-
ance and exuberance of self-acting muscular and cerebral
68 SPONTANEOUS ACTIVITY.
energy, which rises and falls with the vigour and nourish-
ment of the general system.
The activity of young animals in general, and of animals
remarkable for their active endowments (as the insect tribe),
may be cited as strongly favouring the hypothesis of spon-
taneity. When the kitten plays with a worsted ball, we
always attribute the overflowing fulness of moving energy to
the creature’s own inward stimulus, to which the ball merely
serves for a pretext. So an active young hound, refreshed
by sleep or kept in confinement, pants for being let loose, not
because of anything that attracts his view or kindles up his
ear, but because a rush of activity courses through. his
members, rendering him uneasy till the confined energy has
found vent ina chase or arun. We are at no loss to dis-
tinguish this kind of activity from that awakened by sen-
sation or emotion; and the distinction is recognized in the
modes of interpreting the movements and feelings of animals.
When a rider speaks of his horse as ‘fresh,’ he imples that
the natural activity is undischarged, and pressing for vent ;
the excitement caused by mixing in a chase or in a battle, is
a totally different thing from the spontaneous vehemence of
a full-fed and underworked animal.
It is customary in like manner to attribute much of the
activity of early human life, neither to sensation nor to
emotion, but to ‘freshness,’ or the current of undischarged
activity. There are moments when high health, natural
vigour, and spontaneous outpouring, are the obvious ante-
cedents of ebullient activity. The very necessity of bodily
exercise felt by every one, and most of all by the young, is a
proof of the existence of a fund of energy that comes round
with the day and presses to be discharged. Doubtless, it
may be said that this necessity may proceed from a state of
the muscles, and not from the centres; that an uneasy
craving rises periodically in the muscular tissue, and is
transmitted as a stimulus to the centres, awakening a nervous
current of activity in return. Even if this were true, it
would not materially alter the case we are labouring to
EXCITEMENT ILLUSTRATES SPONTANEITY. 69
establish—namely, a tendency in the moving system to go
into action, without any antecedent sensation from without
or emotion from within, or without any stimulus extraneous
to the moving apparatus itself. But we do not see any
ground for excluding the agency of the centres, in the com-
mencing stimulus of periodical active exercise. The same
central energy that keeps up the muscular tonicity, must be
allowed to share in the self-originating muscular activity.
If so, the demand for exercise that comes round upon every
actively constituted nature, is a strong confirmation of the
view we are now engaged in maintaining.
Coupling together, therefore, the initial movements of
infancy, the mobility of early years generally, the obser-
vations on young and active members of the brute creation,
and the craving for exercise universally manifested, we have
a large body of evidence in favour of the doctrine of spon-
taneous action.
(6.) The operation of what is termed Excitement likewise
corroborates the position we are now maintaining. The
physical fact of the excited condition is an increase in the
quantity, or a change in the quality, of the blood in the
brain. The mental fact is the increase of mental energy in
all its modes. A stimulus applied, in such a condition, pro-
duces a more than usual response; and there is manifested
an incontinent activity, irrespective of all stimulation. The
outward movements are hurried and uncontrollable, the
feelings are more intense, the thoughts are rapid; every
mental exertion is heightened. When the excitement rises
to the morbid pitch, as in disease, or under the influence of
drugs, such as strychnine, there is an enormous expenditure
of force, apart from any stimulation whatsoever: the altered
nutrition of the brain is the sole influence concerned.
(7.) As a farther confirmation, it may be remarked that
sensibility and activity do not rise and fall together; on the
contrary, they often stand in an inverse proportion to each
other. By comparing different characters, or the different
states of the same individual, we may test the truth of this
70 SPONTANEOUS ACTIVITY.
observation. The strong, restless, active temperament is not
always marked as the most sensitive and emotional, but is
very frequently seen to be the least affected by these influ-
ences. The activity that seems to sustain itself, costing the
individual almost no effort, being his delight rather than his
drudgery, and very little altered by the presence or the absence
of stimulus or ends, is manifestly a constitutional self-
prompting force ; and such activity is a well known fact. It
is one of the fundamental distinctions of character, both
in individuals and in races ; being seen in the restless adven-
turer, the indefatigable traveller, the devotee of business, the
incessant meddler in affairs; in the man that hates repose
and despises passive enjoyments. It is the pushing energy
- of Philip of Macedon and William the Conqueror. On the
other hand, sensitive and emotional natures, which are to be
found abundantly among men, and still more abundantly
among women, are not active in a corresponding degree, while
the kind of activity displayed by them, is plainly seen to
result more from some stimulus or object, than from an innate
exuberance of action. ‘The activity prompted by ends, by
something to be gained or avoided, is easily distinguished from
the other by its being closely adapted to those ends, and by
its ceasing when they have been accomplished. He that
labours merely on the stimulus of reward, rests when he has
acquired a competency, and is never confounded with the man
whose life consists in giving vent to a naturally active
temperament, or a superabundance of muscular and central
energy.
(8.) Lastly, it will be afterwards shown, that without
spontaneity, the growth of the Will is inexplicable.
Regions of Spontaneous Activity.
7. The muscles for the most part act in groups, being
associated together by the organization of the nervous cen-
tres, for the performance of actions requiring concurrent
movements.
SPONTANEITY OF THE LOCOMOTIVE ORGANS. 71
The Locomotive Apparatus is perhaps the most conspicuous
of the voluntary groups. This involves (taking vertebrate
animals in general) the /imbs—or the anterior and posterior
extremities with their numerous muscles, and the trunk of
the body, which in all animals chimes in more or less with
the movements of the extremities. In the outbursts of
spontaneous action, locomotive effort (walking, running,
flying, swimming, &c.) is one of the foremost tendencies ;
having the advantage of occupying a large portion of the
muscular system, and thus giving vent to a copious stream of
accumulated power. No observant person can have failed to
notice instances, where locomotion resulted from purely
spontaneous effort. In the human subject, the locomotive
members are long in being adapted to their proper use, and
in the meantime they expend their activity in the dancing
gestures and kicking movements, manifested by the infant in
the arms of the nurse.
The locomotive action agitates the whole length of the
spine up to the articulations of the neck and head. The
members concerned, however, have many movements besides,
especially in man; and these are found to arise no less readily.
Thus the movements of the arms are extremely various, and
all of them may burst out in the spontaneous way. The
grasp of the hand is the result of an extensive muscular
endowment, and at an early stage manifests itself in the
round of the innate and chance movements,
The erections and bendings of the body are outlets for
spontaneous activity, and especially erection, which implies
the greater effort. When superfluous power cannot run into
the more abundant opening of locomotive movement, it ex-
pends itself in stretching and erecting the body and limbs to
the extreme point of tension. The erection extends to the
. carriage of the head and the distension of the eyes, mouth,
and features.
The vocal organs are a distinct and notable group of the
active members. The utterance of the voice is unequivocally
owing on many occasions to mere profusion of central energy,
(ee: SPONTANEOUS ACTIVITY.
although more liable than almost any other mode of action to
be stimulated from without. In man the flow of words and
song, in animals the outbursts of barking, braying, howling,
are often manifestly owing to no other cause than the ‘fresh’
condition of the vocal organs.
The eyes have their independent centre of energy, whence
results a spontaneously sustained gaze upon the outer world.
When no object specially arrests the attention, the activity of
the visual movements must be considered as mainly due to
central power. In a person deprived of the sight of one eye,
we find that eye still kept open, but not so wide as the other.
The mouth is also subject to various movements which may
often be the result of mere internal power, as is seen in the
contortions indulged in after a period of immobility and re-
straint. The jaws find their use in masticating the food, but
failing this, they may put forth their force in biting things
put into the mouth, as in children not yet arrived at the age
of chewing. The tongue is an organ of great natural activity,
being endowed with many muscles, and having a wide scope
of action. In the spontaneous action of the voice, which
is at first an inarticulate howl, the play of the tongue, com-
mencing of its own accord, gives the articulate character to
utterance, and lays a foundation for the acquirement of
speech.
Among the special aptitudes manifested among the lower
animals we find marked examples of the spontaneity of action.
The destructive weapons belonging to so many tribes, are fre-
quently brought into play without any stimulus or provocation,
and when no other reason can be rendered than the necessity for
discharging an accumulation of inward energy. As the battery
of the Torpedo becomes charged by the mere course of nutrition,
and requires to be periodically relieved by being poured upon
some object or other, so we may suppose that the jaws of the
tiger, the fangs of the serpent, the spinning apparatus of the ©
spider, require at intervals to have some objects to spend them-
selves upon. It is said that the constructiveness of the bee and
the beaver incontinently manifests itself even when there is no
end to be gained; a circumstance not at all singular, if we admit
NATURAL HISTORY OF THE FEELINGS, 73
the spontaneous nature of many of the active endowments of
men and animals.
The spontaneous activity is always observed to rise and
fall with the vigour and state of nutrition of the general
system, being abundant in states of high health, and deficient
during sickness, hunger, and fatigue. Energetic movements,
moreover, arise under the influence of drugs and stimulants
acting on the nerves and nerve centres; also from fever and
other ailments. Convulsions, spasms, and unnatural excite-
ment, are diseased forms of the spontaneous discharge of the
active energy of the nerve centres.*
OF THE MUSCULAR FEELINGS.
8. We are now brought to the express consideration of
the first class of phenomena proper and peculiar to mind,
namely, States of Feeling; these we have from the outset
recognized as one of the three distinct manifestations of our
mental nature. To give a systematic and precise account of
the states of human consciousness,—a Natural History of the
Feelings,—is one of the aims of the science of mind.t
* A critic of this work in the Nationa! Review, while admitting that the
doctrine here contended for serves to explain phenomena that are left
unexplained, on the assumption, most generally prevailing in the systems or
the human mind, that our activity is called forth solely by the stimulus ot
our sensations—takes exception to the purely physical origin above assigned
to the spontaneous movements. It is with the writer a serious ground of
complaint that these movements are made to proceed from a “ psychological
nothing,” or apart from any antecedent mental state. The question thus
raised turns upon matter of fact, and if any observations can be produced to
show that mind does manifest itself anterior to the spontaneous outburst, my
statement is incorrect. But so far as I have been able to judge of what
really happens, consciousness rapidly follows or else accompanies the spon-
taneous discharge, but does not precede it. We have unequivocal instances
of movements arising without consciousness, as under chloroform and in
delirium; and it is not contended that mind accompanies the movements of the
foetus in the womb. A disputed point substantially identical with this is
handled at length in “‘ The Emotions and the Will.” (Emotions, chap. vii.,
sec. 12).
+ It may facilitate the comprehension of the method herein adopted for
the systematic delineation of the feelings, if I offer a few explanatory
74 THE MUSCULAR FEELINGS.
9. There are three classes of Feelings connected with
the moving organs :—
(1.) Feelings dependent on the organic condition of the
muscles ; as those arising from hurts, wounds, diseases, fatigue,
rest, nutriment. Most of these affections the muscles have in
common with the other tissues of the body ; and they will be
considered under a subsequent head. Our plan requires that
we should here exhibit the marked antithesis, or contrast, exist-
ing between Muscular Feeling proper (the Consciousnesss of
movement, howsoever caused) and Sensation proper. The one
is associated with energy passing outwards, the other with stim-
ulation passing inwards ; the two facts mingle together in the
stream of mental life, but are yet of a widely different nature.
remarks as to the scope of it. | The reader is sufficiently acquainted with the
threefold partition of mind into Feeling, Volition, and Intellect. If this
partition be complete and exhaustive, every mental fact and phenomenon
whatsoever falls under one or other of these heads; nothing mental can be
stated but what is either a feeling, a volition, or a thought. It must, never-
theless, be observed, that. mental states need not belong to one of these
classes exclusively. A feeling may have a certain volitional aspect, together
with its own proper characters: thus the mental! state caused by intense cold
is of the nature of a feeling in the proper acceptation of the term; we
recognize it as a mode of consciousness of the painful kind, but inasmuch as
it stimulates us to performing actions for abating, or freeing ourselves from,
the pain, there attaches to it a volitional character also. In like manner,
every state that can be reproduced afterwards as a recollection, or retained
as an idea, has by that circumstance a certain intelectual character. |
Now, in describing states that come properly under the general head of
feeling, we are called upon to bring forward, in the first instance, the pecu-
liarities, or descriptive marks, that characterize them as feelings. This done,
we may carry on the delineation by adverting to their influence on activity,
or volition; and, lastly, we may specify anything that is distinctive in the
hold that they take of the intellect. It is clear that if a Natural History
of the human feelings is at all possible, we must endeavour to attain an
orderly style of procedure, such as naturalists in other departments have had
recourse to. If the fundamental divisions of mind have any validity in
them, they ought to serve as the basis of a proper descriptive method; in
fact, the description should accord with them.
[ The plan, in its completeness, may be represented thus :—
PuysicaL Sipe.
Bodily Origin. (For Sensations chiefly.)
Bodily Diffusion, expression, or embodiment.
CLASSIFICATION OF THE MUSCULAR FEELINGS. 19
(2.) Feelings connected with muscular action, including
all the pleasures and pains of ewercise. These are the states
just alluded to as peculiar to the muscular system.
(3.) The Feelings that indicate the various modes of tension
of the moving organs. According as a muscle is tense or re-
laxed, according as much or little energy is thrown into it, and
according to the quickness or slowness of the contraction, we
are differently affected, and this difference of sensibility enables
us to judge of the positions of our active members, and of many
important relations of external things. These are the feelings
of muscle that enter most directly into our intelligence ; having
little of the character of mere Feeling, and a very large refer-
ence to Thought, they deserve a separate treatment.
MENTAL SIDE.
Characters as Feeling.
Quality, z.e., Pleasure, Pain, Indifference.
Degree.
As regards Intensity or acuteness.
As regards Quantity, mass, or volume.
Special characteristics.
Volitional characters.
Mode of influencing the Will, or Motives to Action.
Intellectual characters.
Susceptibility to Discrimination and to Agreement.
Degree of Retainability, that is, Ideal Persistence and
Recoverability. /
It is to be remarked that, asa general rule, pleasures agree in their
physical expression, or embodiment, and also in their mode of operating on
the will, namely, for their continuance, increase, or renewal. In like
manner, pains have a common expression, and a common influence in pro-
moting action for their removal, abatement, or avoidance. Hence the fact
that a state is pleasurable or painful carries with it these two other facts as a
matter of course.
Again, as regards the Intellect; Discrimination, Agreement, and Retain-
ability are to a certain extent proportional to the degree of the feeling, or the
strength of the impression. This being the case, the statement of the degree
involves the probable nature of the properties connected with the Intellect.
Hence it is unnecessary in most cases to carry the delineation through all the
particulars of the table. It is only when a feeling possesses any peculiarities
rendering it an exception to the general laws of coincidence now mentioned,
that the full description is called for. Two or three examples of the com-
plete detail will be given. /
Fete
cr
76 THE MUSCULAR FEELINGS.
All through the present chapter, and through the fol-
lowing chapter on sensations, we shall require to keep in
view this distinction between feelings that yield a large
measure of the distinctive character of feeling, and others
whose emotional character is feeble, and whose function it is
to supply the materials of the intelligence. In the eye, for
example, the effect of a blaze of sunshine is very different
from the sight of a watch. The one serves for the pur-
pose of immediate enjoyment, the other is nothing in itself,
and derives its value from being remotely instrumental to our
happiness. Among effects on the ear, the contrast between
music and speech expresses the same distinction.
I. Feelings of Muscular kxercise.
These are feelings proper to the muscles. The mode of
consciousness arising under muscular exertion cannot be pro-
duced in connexion with any other part of the system. _
10. Feeling of Muscular Exercise generally. According to
the manner of the exertion, the feelings differ considerably ;
a dead strain is different from movement; and distinct modes
of consciousness attend quick and slow movements respect-
ively. The most general and characteristic form of mus-
cular exercise is exemplified in a dead strain, or else in great
exertion with a moderate pace of movement.
11. To begin with the PuysIcat side.
The physical state of a muscle under contraction may be
inferred from the details already given. The particles
making up the muscular threads are approximated by an
energetic attraction developed in the muscle, under the
stimulus supplied by the nerves. An intense physical force
is produced by a peculiar expenditure of the substance of the
muscular mass; and in the production of this force the tissue
is affected, as it were, with a strong internal agitation. As the
nerves supplied to the muscles are principally motor nerves,
by which the muscular movements are stimulated from the
brain and nerve centres, our safest assumption is, that the
PHYSICAL SIDE OF MUSCULAR FEELING. ree
sensibility accompanying muscular movement coincides with
the outgoing stream of nervous energy, and does not, as in
the case of pure sensation, result from any influence passing
inwards, by incarrying or sensitive nerves. It is known that
sensitive filaments are distributed to the muscular tissue,
along with the motor filaments; and it is reasonable to
suppose that by means of them the organic states of the
muscle affect the mind. It does not follow that the charac-
teristic feeling of exerted force should arise by an inward
transmission through the sensitive filaments; on the con-
trary, we are bound to presume that this is the concomitant
of the outgoing current by which the muscles are stimulated
to act. No other hypothesis so well represents the total
opposition of nature between states of energy exerted, and
states of passive stimulation.*
* I shall here present the views of some of the most distinguished
physiologists upon this interesting question, I must premise, however, that
none of them advert to the presumption arising from the great antithesis of
movement and sensation, throughout the whole mental system. To them it
would be a small matter, that the feelings of movement were ranked as merely
another class of sensations, or as impressions passing to the brain by sensitive
nerves. In my view, on the contrary, the most vital distinction within the
sphere of mind, is bereft of all physiological support by such an hypothesis.
I quote first from Dr. Brown-Séquard: ‘J. W. Arnold has tried to show that
the anterior roots of nerves contain the nerve fibres which convey to the sen-
sorium the impressions that give the knowledge of the state of muscles,’ as
to degree of contraction or amount of movement. ‘The chief fact on which
he grounds his opinion is, that after section of the posterior roots of the
posterior extremities of a frog, it can make use of its hind legs almost as well
as if nothing had been done to the posterior roots.” It would appear, then,
that not only the power of movement, but also the sense that guides the
movements, is unconnected with the sensory nerves. ‘This experiment is
certainly of some value, and we must acknowledge that it is difficult to
explain it otherwise than Arnold has done. Moreover, we have found that,
after the section of a// the posterior roots of the spinal nerves in frogs, the
voluntary movements seem to be very nearly as perfect as if no operation had
been performed, and that if the skin of the head is pinched on one side, the
posterior limb on the same side tries to repel the cause of the pain, as well as
if no injury had been made. I have also ascertained that in frogs rendered
blind these experiments give the same result.’
But Arnold’s hypothesis is not the only alternative. The supposition that
the mind discriminates the degree of energy of the motor current, or the force
78 THE MUSCULAR FEELINGS.
But the physical accompaniments of muscular exertion
pass beyond the muscles themselves. We know that active
exercise indirectly affects all the organs of the body. The
circulation of the blood is quickened generally, and is made
to flow by preference to the muscular tissue, the brain being
poured out from the brain in voluntary movement, is at least an equally ad-
missible view. It would seem an unnecessary complication to have sensory
nerves mixed up with the pure motor fibres; it would be to deny that the
anterior roots are pure motor nerves. Dr. Brown-Séquard proceeds to re-
mark :—‘ But although I agree so far with Arnold, I do not admit with him
that it is only through the anterior roots that impressions are conveyed by
the muscles to the brain. When a galvanic current is applied to the muscles
of the limb of a frog, on which the posterior roots of the nerves of this limb
have been divided, no trace of pain is produced, and all the other causes of
pain are also unable to cause it when applied either to the skin or the muscles.’
—(Lectures, p. 9.) This is in perfect accordance with the view that would
assign the feelings of resistance and movements to the outgoing current by
the motor nerves, and the sensibility to cramp and other pains, to the ingoing
current by the sensory nerves.
E. H. Weber remarks :—‘ The discriminative sensibility of muscle seems,
in many cases, owing to the presence, in muscle, of branches of the nerves of
sensation going to the extremities, as we see in the distribution of twigs of
the trigeminal nerves to the various muscles of the eye. This supply of sen-
sitive nerves to the eye may be contrasted with the case of the diaphragm, a
muscle under the influence of the will, yet less discriminative than the muscles
of the eye, and scantily supplied with nerves of sensation. It would seem,
nevertheless, that all does not depend on that ; for, in many cases of complete
and genuine anesthesia (that is, loss of sensibility to pain), the power of
voluntary motion in the senseless parts is still preserved.’ This is a still more
decided fact, inasmuch as the existence of insensibility to pain shows, that all
the sensitive fibres are paralyzed, and yet the power of muscular guidance
remains. This is consistent only with the supposition that the mind
appreciates the motor influerce as it proceeds from the brain to the muscles,
without depending on a returning sensibility through the proper sensory
fibres.
I quote next from Ludwig. ‘ Whether the nerves that subserve the
muscular sense, and those that induce the muscular motion, are the same, is
at present difficult to decide. It is conceivable, and not unlikely, that all
knowledge and discrimination arrived at through the exertion of the voluntary
muscles, are attained directly through the act of voluntary excitation; so
that the effort of the will is at once proceeded on as a means of judgment.
This opinion is supported by the fact, that the movements that give us mental
judgments, in by far the greater number of cases, do not appear as muscular
sensations; in other words, they are not, like the organic sensations of
muscle, localized by us in the muscle and looked upon as possessing the
EMBODIMENT OF MUSCULAR FEELING. 79
in this way often relieved from a morbid excess of blood.
The lungs are stimulated to increased action. The elimi-
nation of waste matter from the skin is promoted. There is
a great increase of animal heat. Provided the waste of
nutritive material caused by these various modes of increased
characters of a sensation.’ Ludwig thus appeals to our consciousness as pre-
senting the feeling of muscular energy in a characteristic form, and distinct
from the feeling of muscular pains. And in this he seems to be right; for if
consciousness be a safe guide in the matter, we should say that in the case of
a voluntary effort, the feeling is as of power going out of us, and not as of a
surface of sense stimulated by an external agent, and transmitting an im-
pression inwards to the nerve centres.
The view that organic muscular pains are stimulated through the sensory
fibres is strongly maintained by Ludwig. His reasons are :—First, Sensory
fibres are distributed to the muscles along with the motor nerves. Secondly,
the involuntary muscles, no less than the voluntary, are the seat of acute
pains. Thirdly, the stimulation of the anterior roots does not produce pain.
Fourthly, pains arising from long-continued action of the muscles exist
for days after the cessation of the excitement of the motor nerves. This
last phenomenon is explained by the chemical destruction of the muscular
tissue, which has an irritating effect upon the sensory nerves existing in the
muscles.
Finally, Wundt expresses himself as follows: ‘Whether the sensations,
accompanying the contraction of the muscles, arise in the nerve-fibres that
transmit the motor impulse from the brain to the muscles, or whether special
sensory fibres exist in the muscles, cannot be decisively settled. Certain
facts, however, make the first assumption more probable. If special nerve-
fibres existed, they must be connected with special central cells, and thus, in
all probability, the central organs for the apprehension of these sensations
would be different from those which send out the motor impulse ; there would
be two independent nerve-systems, the one centripetal, the other centrifugal.
But in the one—the medium of the sensation—nothing else could be regarded
as the stimulus than the changes taking place in the muscle, the contraction,
or perhaps the electrical process in nerve and muscle accompanying the con-
traction. Now, this process is known to keep equal pace with the energy of
the muscular contraction; and we must expect that the muscular sensation
would constantly increase and decrease with the amount of internal or external
work done by the muscle. But this is not the case, for the strength of the
sensation is dependent only on the strength of the motive impulse, passing
outwards from the centre, which sets on the innervation of the motive nerves.’
This is proved by numerous cases of pathological disturbance of the
muscular action in a limb. The patient can make a great muscular exer-
tion, and have the corresponding sensation, although the limb be hardly moved.
But, naturally, after long-repeated trial, this small movement becomes
associated with the increased exertion.
80 THE MUSCULAR FEELINGS.
action is duly supplied, the vital force of the system as a
whole is raised by muscular exercise.
So much for the corporeal seat or Origin of the sensibility
in question. ‘There is still another physical aspect, namely,
the Expression or Embodiment of the Feeling, which is not
only the means of making known the state to others, but also
an essential concomitant of its own existence.
By the very nature of the case, the feeling arising from
great bodily exertion, is liable to be wanting in Expression,
properly so called. The organs are so completely employed
in the exercise itself, that they are not disposable as instru-
ments of the expression of the feeling. The features of the
face and the voice, which are by pre-eminence the organs
of expression, are exerted chiefly in sympathy with the
muscles engaged in the exercise. Hence, as regards outward
embodiment, there is nothing to be remarked in connexion
with muscular effort generally. It is only when the feeling
happens to be pleasurable or the reverse, that any expression
is shown, and such expression is merely the attendant of the
pleasure or the pain as such.
12. We pass now to the MENTAL side. In reviewing the
characteristics of the mental accompaniment of muscular
action, viewed as Feeling, we will advert first to its Quality.
Observation shows that this is pleasurable, indifferent, or
painful, according to the condition of the system. The first
outburst of muscular vigour in a healthy frame, after rest
and nourishment, is highly pleasurable. The intensity of
the pleasure gradually subsides into indifference; and, if
the exercise is prolonged beyond a certain time, pain ensues.
In ordinary manual labour, there may be, at commencing in
the morning and after meals, a certain amount of pleasure
caused by the exercise, but it is probable that during the
greater part of a workman’s day, the feeling of exertion is in
most cases indifferent. If we confine ourselves to the dis-
charge of surplus energy in muscular exertion, there can be
no doubt that this is a considerable source of pleasure in the
average of human beings, and doubtless also in the animal
PLEASURE OF MUSCULAR EXERCISE. 81
tribes. The fact is shown in the love of exercise for its own
sake, or apart from the ends of productive industry, and the
preservation of health. In the case of active sports and
amusements, there are additional sources of pleasurable ex-
citement, but the delight in the mere bodily exertion would
still be reckoned one ingredient in the mixture.
A part of the pleasure of exercise must be attributed to
the increase of vital power generally; and the question arises,
may not the whole be due to the augmented force of the cir-
culation, respiration, &c.? It is certain that the rising toa
higher condition as regards these important functions, is a
source of pleasurable excitement. We may reasonably
suppose, however, that the muscular system, which is the
seat of so much unquestioned sensibility, should be capable
of affording pleasure under favourable conditions. And I
think our consciousness attests the same fact. The agree-
able feeling in the exercise of the muscular organs, when
the body is strong and fresh, can be localized, or referred to
the muscles actually engaged. And it will be seen, as we
proceed, that there are various facts connected with movement
that are inexplicable, unless we suppose that the muscular
tissue is of itself a seat of pleasurable, as it certainly is of
painful, sensibility.
As to the Degree of this pleasure, we must of course pro-
nounce it variable according to circumstances. But taking a
common case, as that of an average healthy human being,
going through each day the amount of bodily exercise that
the system can afford, we should have to admit that this is
an appreciable constituent of happiness. Doubtless by con-
triving such a combination of exercises as to bring all the
powerful muscles into full play, the pleasure could be in-
creased considerably above the ordinary experience in this
respect. The pleasure is not what would be called acute, or
of great intensity ; its degree arises from the stimulation of a
large mass of tissue.
A measure of the degree of our pleasures is found, not
merely in comparing one with another in consciousness, but
6
82 THE MUSCULAR FEELINGS.
also in observing the pains that they are respectively able to
subdue. In this particular case, however, there is a tendency
to subdue pain, not through the evolution of pleasure merely,
but through some of the direct physical consequences of
muscular movement. The derivation of blood from the
brain reduces the cerebral excitement, and with that the
mental excitement, and so may operate in quenching painful
irritation.
The third point in the description respects any Speciality
in the case, serving still further to describe or characterize
the feeling in question. Now, as regards muscular exertion,
there is a notable speciality, a radical difference in kind,
signified by such phrases as ‘ the sense of power,’ ‘ the feeling
of energy put forth,’ ‘the experience of force or resistance.’
This is an ultimate phase of the human consciousness, and
the most general and fundamental of all our conscious states.
By this experience we body forth to ourselves a notion of
resistance, force, or power, together with the great fact de-
nominated an external world. In the sense of energy exerted,
we are said to go out of self, or to constitute a something in
vital contrast to all the rest of our mental experiences, a not-
me as opposed to the me of passive sensibility and thought.
With regard to the Volztronal peculiarities of the pleasure
of muscular exercise there is not much to be remarked. As
a pleasure it will work for its own perpetuation, increase, or
renewal. According to the doctrine of spontaneous activity,
the sense of pleasure would not be necessary for our passing
into an active state in the first instance; but would simply
operate to maintain the activity, and, by help of intelligent
forethought, to keep the system in a high condition of fitness
for the periodical effusion of energy.
The distinctively Intellectual properties of the muscular
feelings will have to be referred to, as the sources of highly
important perceptions. But before considering these, we
should notice an intellectual aspect or property belonging to
these feelings, in their strict character of feelings, or as
pleasures and pains,—namely, the fact of their greater or less
FEELING OF EXPENDED ENERGY. 83
persistence in the memory, so as to constitute ideal pleasures
or pains, and, in that capacity, to stimulate the will in pursuit
orin avoidance. A pleasure may be very intense in the actual,
—but-feeble in the ideal, or in the memory. Such a pleasure
_would not, in absence, prompt the will to energetic efforts for
realizing it. Now, the pleasures of muscular exercise do not
take a high place among persisting, remembered, or ideal
pleasures ; they are perhaps not at the bottom of the scale in
this respect, but they are not much higher than the least in-
tellectual of the sensations, as, for example, those of Digestion.
But individuals differ in regard to this point; and in so far as
active amusements and sports, and occupations largely in-
volving muscular exercise, are a fixed object of passionate
pursuit, for their own sakes, to that extent they must abide in
thought, or possess intellectual persistence.
But the truly important intellectual aspect of muscular
feeling is something quite different from any ideal pleasures
and pains of exercise. It regards the discriminating and
identifying of degrees and modes of the characteristic con-
sciousness of expended energy ; an experience corresponding
with the great facts of the object world, named, resistance,
force, power, velocity, space, time, &c. In these perceptions
there is a neutrality as regards pleasure or pain.
We have already seen that, between the pleasure of exer-
cise and the pain of fatigue, there is an intermediate state
where there is still the characteristic feeling of energy ex-
pended. In this state, we usually cease to attend to the
feeling, as feeling proper; we are rather occupied with the
purely intellectual functions of discrimination and agreement;
we think of the present expenditure as greater or less than
some other expenditure, or as agreeing with some previously
known instances. This is to be intellectually engrossed ;
and, under such an engrossment in the case of muscular
exercise, we assume the olyect attitude ; we are not self-con-
scious, but are engaged in knowing certain purely object facts
called force, extension, &c.
Even if muscular exertion were attended with the
84 THE MUSCULAR FEELINGS.
pleasures of exercise or the pains of fatigue, yet if, from any
circumstance, we were led to consider intently the degree or
amount of the expenditure, as in aiming a blow at cricket, we
should at that moment be entirely unconscious of the pleasure
or pain of the situation ; the intellectual attitude (in this case
the object attitude) is incompatible for the instant with the
subject experience proper, of which pleasure and pain are
characteristic modes. ven in the highest zest of muscular
enjoyment, the feeling of pleasure is intermittent; it is
eclipsed in the act of putting forth energy and of considering
and comparing its amount ; and re-appears at the end of the
stroke, or during the suspense of our attention to the act
itself. In this subtle transition, or contrast, is laid the
groundwork of the great distinction of subject and object—
mind and matter.
13. Having thus endeavoured to present a delineation of
the first and simplest variety of muscular consciousness under
exertion, we shall now cite a few examples of this form of
the feeling.
The supporting of a weight on the back, head, or chest, or
by the arms, is a common example of dead tension. The
most interesting form of it is the support of the body’s own
weight, which yields a perpetual feeling of the muscular kind,
varying with the attitudes. The feeling is least when we lie
at full length in bed, and greatest in the erect posture. Some-
times the weight is oppresive to us, and gives the sensation
of fatigue ; in a more fresh condition of the muscles, it makes
one item of our pleasurable consciousness. The fatigue of
standing erect for a length of time is, perhaps, one of the
commonest cases of muscular exhaustion. The pleasure of
standing up after a lengthened repose gives an opposite feel-
ing. When the bodily strength is great, the laying on of a
' burden is a new pleasure.
This case of great muscular tension, without movement,
‘presents itself under a variety of forms, in the routine of
mechanical operations, and in many other ways. In holding
on as a drag, in offering or encountering resistance of any
SLOW MOVEMENTS. 85
sort, in compressing, squeezing, clenching, wrestling, the
situation is exemplified.
A certain amount of movement may be permitted without
essentially departing from the case of dead tension, as in
dragging a vehicle, and in efforts of slow traction generally.
14. When muscular tension brings about Movements,
there must be a gradually increasing contraction, and not a
mere expenditure of power at one fixed attitude. Each
muscle has to pass through a course of contraction ; beginning,
it may be, at the extreme state of relaxation, and passing on,
sometimes slowly, and at other times rapidly, to the most
shortened and contracted condition. The sensibility de-
veloped during this process, is greater in degree, and even
somewhat different in kind, from that now discussed. As a
general rule, the feeling is more intense under movement, than
under exertion without movement. The successive contrac-
tion of the muscle would seem capable of originating a more
vivid stimulus than the fixed contraction. We even find
that, in different degrees of rapidity, the character of the
feeling changes, which requires us to make a division of
movements into several kinds.
15. Let us first advert to what we may term, by compari-
son, slow movements. By these I understand such as a
loitering, sauntering walk, an indolent style of doing things,
a solemn gesture, a drawling speech, whatever is set down as
leisurely, deliberate, dawdling. The emotion arising from this
kind of movement is far greater than an equal effort of dead
tension would produce. Indeed, we may say, that this is an
extremely voluminous and copious state of feeling: being
both abundant and strong, although deficient in the element
that we recognize as the sense of energy, or of expended force ;
in fact, approaching more to the class of passive feelings.
We may derive the greatest amount of pleasurable sensibility,
at.the least cost of exertion, through the means of well-con-
certed slow movements. In this case, it seems least unlikely
that, together with the sense of expended energy, there is also
present the proper sensibility of the muscular tissue, awakened
86 THE MUSCULAR FEELINGS.
through the medium ot the sensitive nerves. The resemblance
of the state to the feeling of muscular repose, (which probably
makes) an element in the voluminous sensation of approaching
sleep, favours this view. The sense of expended energy is
small, in fact almost wanting. But we must not overlook
another circumstance, accounting for a copious sensibility
under a small expenditure of force. When the energies of
the system are strongly directed into the current of muscular
activity, they are less available for the support of sensibility
or feeling; the putting forth of energy in bodily movements
is a diversion of the forces from the seats of passive sensi-
bility, and is a well known remedy for too great mental
excitement. Hence, obversely, the smallness of the active
expenditure permits a larger manifestation of sensibility or
feeling.
The relationship of the feeling in question to muscular
repose and approaching sleep, is seen in the tendency of
slow movements to induce those states. They are pre-
eminently soothing in their nature, and when the system has
contracted a morbid restlessness, they can gradually restore
it to the healthy condition. After a bustling day, tranquillity
is attained by the mere sympathy of measured movements,
as music and the conversation of persons of sedate elocution.
There is also a close intimacy between the feelings of slow
movement and certain powerful emotions, as awe, solemnity,
veneration, and others of the class of mingled tenderness and
fear, entering into the religious sentiment. Accordingly, the
funeral pace, the slow enunciation of devotional exercises,
the solemn tones of organ music, are chosen as appropriate
to the feelings that they accompany. All this still farther
supports the position, that the feeling under consideration is
not one of active energy, but the opposite. For all those
sentiments are the response of man’s powerlessness and
dependence, and are developed according as the sense of his
own energy is low.
16. There is every reason to believe that movements
gradually increasing or gradually diminishing, are more pro-
QUICK MOVEMENTS. 87
ductive of pleasurable emotion than such as are of a uniform
character. Indeed, a uniform movement is altogether of
artificial acquirement. The natural swing of the limbs tends
to get quicker and quicker up to the full stretch, and to die
away again gradually. There would appear to be a special
sensibility connected with the acceleration or steady diminu-
tion of movement. The gradual dying away of a motion is
pleasurable and graceful in every sort of activity—in gesture,
in the dance, in speech, in vision. The ‘dying fall’ in sound
is an illustration of the same fact. It also goes to make the
beauty of curved lines.
Possibly the effect may be explained on the great law of
Relativity, or the necessity of change to our being mentally
affected. A gradual acceleration or diminution of any agent
that wakens sensibility is the surest antidote of monotony, in
other words, the condition most favourable to consciousness.
17. We pass next to the consideration of quick move-
ments, They differ considerably in feeling both from dead
exertion and from slow motion. Although there may seem
to be a common muscular sensibility at the bottom, the
specific nature of it is greatly altered. One accompaniment
of the quickness is the increased excitement of the nerves;
an increase totally distinct from the addition of energy
expended to heighten an effort of dead resistance. Mere
rapidity of movement has a specific influence in exciting the
nerves and nerve-centres to a greater spontaneous activity ;
in short, it belongs to the class of nervous stimulants. The
stimulation would appear to be all the greater, when the
organs are unresisted, and consequently demand little expen-
diture of energy. For mducing an unwonted degree of
excitement generally, for inflaming the animal spirits, and
bringing on various manifestations and exaggerated efforts,
quick movement is an available instrumentality. We may
compare it in this respect with acute pains (not severe
enough to crush the energies). Rapid motions are a species
of mechanical intoxication. Any one organ, however small,
made to move quickly, imparts its pace to all the other
88 THE MUSCULAR FEELINGS.
moving organs. In a rapid walk, still’ more in a run, the
mental tone is excited, the gesticulations and the speech are
quickened, the features betray an unusual tension.
Examples of this class of motions and feelings are suffi-
ciently abundant. They are expressly sought to give hilarity
and excitement to human life. The chase, the dance, the
vehemence of oratory and gesture, the stirring spectacle, are
prized for their stimulating character, as well as for their
proper sensations. In the ecstatic worship of antiquity,—in
the rites of Bacchus and Demeter,—a peculiar frenzy over-
took the worshippers, yielding an enjoyment of the most
intense and violent character, and in its expression mad and
furious. This state is often brought on among the Orientals
of the present day, and in a similar manner, namely, by rapid
dancing and music under the infection of a multitude.
Movements, when too quick, excite the brain to the state
of dizziness and fainting (see p. 43).
Thus, then, Dead Resistance is a source of pleasure in a
healthy system, a derivative of morbid excitement from the
brain, and the origin of our most general and fundamental
sensibility, constituting the consciousness of the object, or
external, world. Slow Movements are allied to the passive
pleasures, and may affect us more through the sensitive, than
through the motor nerves of the muscles. Quick Move-
ments affect us less as movement, than as stimulating the
nerves to increased action, the consequence being a higher
mental tone for feeling, for volition, and for thought.
18. A remarkable feeling connected with movements, is
that arising from the sudden loss of support, as when the
footing, or any prop that we lean upon, suddenly gives way.
The contraction of a muscle demands two fixed points of
resistance at its extremities; if one of those breaks loose,
the force of the contraction has nothing to spend itself upon,
and a false position is incurred. The contraction suddenly
freed from its resistance does not make a vehement con-
vulsive collapse like a spring; it would appear rather that
the contractive force ceases almost immediately ; and the
PASSIVE MOVEMEN'S. 89
sensation resulting is one of a most disagreeable kind. It
would seem to result rather from the jar given to the nervous
system than from any influence flowing out of the muscle.
The whole frame is agitated with a most revulsive shock, the
cold perspiration is felt all over, and a sickening feeling
seizes the brain. The breaking down of any prop that we
are resting on, the snapping of a rope, or the sinking of a
foundation, exemplify the most intense form of the effect.
We may probably look upon the peculiar influence whose
repetition induces sea-sickness, as of the same nature. The
sinking of the ship has exactly the same unhinging action in
a milder degree, although when continued for a length of
time, this produces a far worse disturbance than any single
break-down, however sudden. ‘The precise physiological
action in this situation, does not seem agreed upon; the
feeling is known to be one of the most distressing that
human nature is subject to, being an intense and exaggerated
form of stomachic sickness.*
19. We must next advert to what are called passive (but
more properly compelled) movements. Riding in a vehicle is
the commonest instance. One of the pleasures of human life
is to be driven along at a moderate speed, in an easy carriage.
Now, it may be supposed at first sight, that there ought to be
no feeling of muscular exertion whatsoever in this case,
seeing that the individual is moved by other force than his
or her own. Under certain circumstances this would be
strictly true. We have no feeling of our being moved round
with the earth’s rotation, or through space by the movement
about the sun. So ina ship, we often lose all sense of being
driven or carried along, and feel pretty much as if there were
* Sea-sickness is explained by some as the result of the excessive flow
of blood to and from the head. When the ship makes a downward motion,
the feeling of loss of support is accompanied by a rapid flow of blood to the
brain, and, when the ship rises, as rapid a flow ensues in the opposite
direction. It is asserted further, that the flow either way may be diminished,
if an upward motion of the body be made at the time of the ship’s downward
motion, and a downward motion at the time of the ship’s rising; and that
sickness can in this way be prevented.
90 THE MUSCULAR FEELINGS.
no forward movement at all. The sensibility arising in a
carriage movement, is in part imbibed through the eye,
which is regaled by the shifting scene, and partly through
the irregularities of the movement, which demand a very
gentle action of the museles of the body in order to adapt it
to those irregularities. By springs and cushions, all violence
of shock is done away, while the easy exercise caused by the
commencement and stoppages of the motion, by the slight
risings and fallings of the road, is somewhat of the nature of
that influence already described as arising from slow and
gentle movements. Moreover, as has been observed by Dr,
Arnott, the effect of the shaking is to quicken the eirculation
of the blood.
In horse exercise, there is a large amount of the ingredient
of activity. The rider is saved a part of the exhaustion
caused in walking, and has yet exercise enough for the
stimulus of the bodily functions, and for muscular pleasures.
The rocking chair, introduced by the Americans, who seem
specially attentive to the luxuries of muscular sensibility, is
another mode of gaining pleasure from movement. Anciently,
furniture was adapted for the pleasures of repose solely, but
now the boy’s rocking horse has its representative among the
appurtenances of grown men.
On the whole, it is apparent that a large fraction of
physical enjoyment flows out of the moving apparatus and
muscular tissue of the body. By ingeniously varying the
modes of it, this enjoyment is increased still farther. The
pleasure comes incidentally to manual labour, when moderate
in amount and alternated with due sustenance and repose,
and is a great element of field sports and active diversions of
every kind; it is a part of the pleasures of locomotion ; and
contributes the principal ingredient in gymnastic exercises
and athletic displays.
Il. Of the Perceptions grounded in the Muscular Feelings.
20. In alluding to the strictly Intellectual properties of
the feeling of expended muscular energy, we had to advert to
DISCRIMINATION OF MUSCULAR ENERGY. 91
that mode, neutral as regards pleasure and pain, whereby we
are occupied with the properties of the object world, as resist-
ance, force, &e.
This function of our muscular sensibility arises, in the
first instance, from our being conscious of the different degrees —
of it. We have not only a certain feeling when we put forth
muscular power, but we have a change of feeling when we
raise or lower the amount of the power. If we hold a weight
of four pounds in the hand, the consciousness is changed
when another pound is added. This change of feeling is
completely expressed by the word, Discrimination, and is the
basis of our intelligence; as pleasure or pain, it is nothing,
but as the commencement of knowledge, it is all-important.
The modes of muscular action that affect us by their
differences of degree, appear to be three. ‘The first is the
amount of exertion, or of expended force, which measures the
resistance to be encountered. This is the fundamental ex-
perience. The second respects the continuance of the exer-
tion, and applies both to dead strain and to movement. The
third is a mode of movement solely ; it is'the rapidity of the
muscle’s contraction, which corresponds with the velocity of
movement in the organ. In distinguishing the qualities of
external things, and in attaining permanent notions of the
world, all these discriminations are brought into play.
21. First, with respect to degrees of Exertion or of Ex-
pended force. This is the sense of Resistance, the basis of
our conception of Body, and our measure of Force, Inertia,
Momentum, or the Mechanical property of matter.
Every feeling involves a consciousness of degree or
amount : to be affected more or less in different circumstances
is a consequence of being affected at all. Hven when ex-
periencing the pleasure of healthy exercise, or the pain of
fatigue, we are aware of differences in the various stages of
the feeling. Such differences make one part of the fact that
we call knowledge (agreements being the other part).
To apply this to the case now before us. We have a
certain feeling when called to exert our muscular energy in
92 THE MUSCULAR FEELINGS.
causing movement, or in encountering resistance. We have
a certain degree of consciousness for some one degree of ex-
ertion ; when the exertion increases, so does the consciousness.
If a porter places on his back a load of one hundredweight, he
has a peculiar and distinct muscular feeling associated with
it; if thirty pounds were added, he would have a sense of
the addition in the increased expenditure of force; if thirty
pounds were removed, he would have a feeling of diminished
expenditure. In short, there is a perfect discrimination of
degrees and difference of muscular energy, which serves us as
a means of discriminating the resistances that we encounter.
Hence we are able to say that one body resists more than
another—possesses in greater degree the quality that, accord-
ing to circumstances, we call force, momentum, inertia,
weight, or power. When we encounter two forces in succes-
sion, as in a wrestling match or a dead push, we distinguish
the greater from the less.
22. Among the various occasions where the sense of
eraduated resistance comes into play, mention may be made,
first, of the momentum or force of moving bodies. Where
we have to check or resist something in motion, as in bringing
a vehicle to rest, our sensibility to expended exertion leaves.
with us an impression corresponding to the momentum of the
vehicle. If we were immediately after to repeat the act with
another vehicle heavier or swifter than the first, we should
have a sense of increased effort, which would mark our
estimate of the difference of the two forces. Supposing the
impressions thus made to be gifted with a certain kind of
permanence, so that they could be revived at an after time, to
be compared with some new case of checking a moving body,
we should be able to say which of the three was greatest and
which least, and we should thus have a scale of sensibilities
corresponding to the three different degrees of moving force.
Such exercises as digging the ground, rowing a boat, or
dragging a heavy vehicle, do not essentially depart from the
case of the dead strain ; and in all these instances, there is an
estimate of expended force. Every carriage horse knows the
WEIGHT. 93
difference of draught between one carriage and another, be-
tween rough and smooth ground, and between up hill and
down hill. This difference the animal comes to associate
with the carriage, or with the sight of the road, and in con-
sequence manifests preferences whenever there is an oppor-
tunity; choosing a level instead of a rising road, or the smooth
side in preference to the rough.
The appreciation of weight comes under the dead strain.
We remark a difference between half an ounce and an ounce,
or between five pounds and six pounds, when we try first
the one weight and then the other. The generality of people
can appreciate far nicer differences than these. A sensitive
hand would feel a small fraction of an ounce added to a
pound. In this respect, there would appear to be wide con-
stitutional differences, and also differences resulting from
practice, among different individuals. We are all sensitive
to some extent,. but there is for each person a degree of
minuteness of addition or subtraction that ceases to be felt;
this is the limit of sensibility, or the measure of delicacy in
the individual case.
There are two modes of estimating weight, the relative
and the so-called absolute. By relative weights we under-
stand two. or more present weights compared together; as
when among a heap of stones we pick out what we deem the
heaviest. Absolute weight implies a permanent standard,
and a permanent impression of that standard. When I lift
a weight and pronounce it to be seven pounds, [ make a
comparison between the present feeling and the impression
acquired by handling the standard weight of seven pounds,
or things known to be equivalent thereto. This absolute
comparison, therefore, implies the enduring and recoverable
sensibility to impressions of resistance, which is also a fact
of the human constitution. We can acquire a permanent
sense of any one given weight or degree of resistance, so as ~
to be able at all times to compare it with whatever weight
may be presented. A receiver of posted letters contracts an
engrained sensibility to half an ounce, and can say of any
94 THE MUSCULAR FEELINGS.
letter put into his hand whether it produces a sensibility
equal to or under the standard. This, too, is a result pre-
eminently intellectual in its nature; the process of acqui-
sition that brings it about, ranks as a fundamental property
of our intelligence. The sensibilities that can assume this
permanent character, so as to be used in comparison, without
the presence of their original cause, are truly intellectual
sensibilities.
The sensitiveness to relative weight, or to things actually
compared together, may not imply great sensitiveness to
absolute weight, which involves a greater or less degree of
retentiveness or memory.
Although the use of the balance supersedes, to a very
great extent, the sensibility to weight residing in the mus-
cular system, there are occasions where this sensibility can
display its acuteness. In many manual operations, weight is
often estimated without the aid of the balance. In throwing
a missile to reach a mark, an estimate of weight must enter
into the computation of the force expended.
In appreciating the cohesiveness of tenacious bodies—the
thickness of a dough, or the toughness of a clay—the same
sense of resistance comes into operation. In like manner,
the elasticity of elastic substances—the strength of a spring,
the rebound of a cushion—can be discriminated with more
or less nicety.
23. The second mode of muscular discrimination respects
the Continuance of it. A Dead Strain of unvarying amount
being supposed, we are differently affected according to its
duration. If we make a push lasting a quarter of a minute,
and, after an interval, renew it for half a minute, there is a
difference in the consciousness of the two efforts. The
endurance implies an increased expenditure of power in a
particular mode, and we are distinctly aware of such an
increase. We know also that it is not the same as an
increase in the intensity of the strain. The two modes of
increase are not only discriminated as regards degree, they
are also felt to be different modes. The one is our feeling
TIME AND SPACE. 95
and measure of Resistance or Force, the other stands for a
measure of Time. All impressions made on the mind,
whether those of muscular energy, or those of the ordinary
senses, are felt differently according as they endure for a
longer or a shorter time. This is true of the higher emotions
also. The continuance of a mental state must be discriminated
by us from the very dawn of consciousness, and hence our
estimate of time is one of the earliest of our mental aptitudes.
It attaches to every feeling that we possess.
The estimate of continuance attaches to dead resist-
ances, but not to that alone. When we put forth power to
cause Movement, as in lifting a weight off the ground, or in
pulling an oar, we are aware of a difference in the con-
tinuance of the movement. We also know that we are
moving, and not simply resisting. The two modes of exer-
cising force are not confounded in our consciousness; we
hold them as different, and recognize each when it occurs,
Now, the continuance of movement expresses more to us than
the continuance of a dead strain. It is the sweep of the
organ through space, and connects itself, therefore, with the
measure of space or extension. The range of a muscle’s
contraction, which is the same as the range or extent of
motion of the part moved, is appreciated by us through the
fact of continuance. Being conscious of a greater or less
continuance of movement, we are prepared for estimating the
greater or less extent of the space moved through. This is
the first step, the elementary sensibility, in our knowledge of
space. And, although we must combine sensations of the
senses with sweep of movement, in our perception of the
extended, yet the essential part of the cognition is furnished
by the feelings of movement. We learn to know, by a pro-
cess to be afterwards adverted to, the difference between the
co-existing and the successive, between Space and Time; and
we can then, by muscular sweep—that is, by the continuance
of muscular movement—discriminate the differences of ex-
tended matter or space. This sensibility becomes a means
of imparting to us in the first place the feeling of linear
96 THE MUSCULAR FEELINGS.
extension, as measured by the sweep of a limb, or other organ
moved by muscles. The difference between six inches and
eighteen inches is represented by the different degrees of
contraction of some one group of muscles ; those, for ex-
ample, that flex the arm, or, in walking, ions that flex or
extend the lower limb. The inward impression corre-
sponding to the outward fact of six inches in length, is an
impression arising from the continued shortening of a muscle.
It is the impression of a muscular movement having a
certain continuance ; a greater linear magnitude is a greater
continuance.
The discrimination of length in any one direction ob-
viously includes extension in every direction. Whether it be
length, breadth, or height, the perception has precisely the
same character. Hence superficial and solid dimensions, the
size or magnitude of a solid object, come to be felt through
the same fundamental sensibility to expended muscular force.
All this will be understood more fully at an after stage, when
we shall have to consider muscularity in connexion with the
senses of Touch ard Sight.
By means of the muscular se walt associated with
prolonged contraction, we can thus discriminate different.
degrees of the attribute of space, in other words, difference
of length, surface, and form. When comparing two different
lengths, we can feel which is the greater, just as in comparing
two different weights or resistances. We can also, as in the
case of weight, acquire some absolute standard of comparison,
through the permanency of impressions sufficiently often re-
peated. We can engrain the feeling of contraction of the
muscles of the lower limb due to a pace of thirty inches, and
can say that some one given pace is less or more than this
amount. According to the delicacy of the muscular organs,
we can, by shorter or longer practice, acquire distinct impres-
sions for every standard dimension, and can decide at once
as to whether a given length is four inches or four and a half,
nine or ten, twenty or twenty-one. A delicate sensibility
to size is an acquirement suited to many mechanical opera-
RAPIDITY OF MOVEMENT. 97 -
tions; as in drawing, painting, and engraving, and in the
plastic arts.
24. Under the foregoing head, we supposed the case of
steady or uniform movement; and called attention to the
power of discriminating the greater or less continuance of it.
But movements may vary in their rate of Speed; and it is
now to be considered whether or not the mind is affected
when the speed is increased or diminished. This is also a
mode of expending additional power; and it is not possible
for us to increase the expended energy without being conscious
of the fact. The only doubt that might arise is as to our
being able to distinguish the various modes of increase—
increase In the dead strain at any one instant, increase in the
duration of the strain, increase in the duration of a movement,
increase in the velocity of the movement—so as to be aware
which mode we are under forthe time. If we confounded all
these modes of increase under a common impression of inten-
sified energy, our muscular discrimination would be wholly
inadequate to the perception of the external world; and, in
particular, our ability to estimate extension would have to be
referred to some other part of our constitution. But it is
quite certain that we are differently affected under these
various situations. Our consciousness is not the same when
we augment the energy of a dead resistance, as when we
protract the time of that resistance ; nor is it the same when
we prolong the duration of a uniform movement, and when
we add to its speed. We are’ aware, when we accelerate our
pace, not merely that more power is going out of us, but that
such power is in one especial mode, which we distinguish
from other special modes. This being assumed, we are cogni-
zant of degree in the rapidity of our movements, and so possess
the power of estimating another great property of moving
bodies, the velocity of their motions. This measure is taken
first on our own movements, and thence extended to other
moving things that we encounter. When we follow a moving
object with the hand, or with the eye, or keep pace with it, its
velocity is transferred to ourselves, and estimated accordingly.
7
98 THE MUSCULAR FEELINGS.
The feeling of the rapidity of muscular contraction has a
further office. It is an additional means of measuring Exten-
sion. An increase of velocity in the same time corresponds
to an increase of range or extension, no less than the same
velocity continued for a greater time. Extent of Space thus
connects itself with two separate discriminations—Continu-
ance, and Velocity, of movement.
The distinct feelings from the various forms of muscular
exercise, as formerly explained, whereby we are differently
affected according as movement is slow or quick, are thus of
great intellectual importance, as enabling us to be character-
istically impressed by each varying degree of velocity. The
soothing tendency of the slow motions, and the exciting effect
of the comparatively rapid motions, are instrumental in en-
abling us to discriminate degrees of velocity directly, and of
space indirectly.*
* A fourth variety of muscular discrimination may be pointed out as in
constant use, namely, the sense of the amount of contraction of a muscle,
and of the position of the limb in consequence. We are ordinarily aware not
merely that we are putting forth a force of a certain degree and continuance,
but that we are operating either at the beginning of the muscle’s contraction,
so to speak, or at some advanced stage of the contraction. This determines,
of course, the attitude or position of the part moved. We know, in exerting
the arm in the dark, whether it is extended or bent, and whether it is thrown
before or behind. We know in grasping anything in the hand, whether the
hand is very much stretched, or very much closed; and we can judge of the
different degrees of contraction determining intermediate positions.
By this sensibility we are able, after experience, to estimate the magni-
tudes of bodies without moving the arnr or the hand, or other organ. By the
mere stretching of the arms, without attending to the movement implied in
that stretch, we measure in our mind the length of an object, or of an interval.
By the dead span of ‘the fingers and thumb, we can estimate any length that
is within the scope of the parts.
It is usual to describe this particular discrimination as a sense of the state
of the muscle’s contraction, and to regard it as the primary or typical form of
the muscular sense. Now, the discrimination must no doubt be an original
fact; one cannot see how it could be acquired ; but the meaning given to it,
the interpretation of the position of the limb, and of the magnitudes embraced
between two outstretched parts, is wholly acquired. We must learn by ex-
perience what movements correspond to the transition from one mode of con-
traction to the other; extension must be measured first by movement. A
definite fixed position of the two arms, of the two legs, of the jaws, of the
STATE OF A MUSCLE’S CONTRACTION. 99
We have thus gone over the two great classes of muscular
feelings enumerated at the outset of the chapter.* This
lips, or of the fingers and thumb, comes to represent a series of movements,
and the corresponding estimate of space passed over by movement. With
one hand resting upon the side of a box, and the other resting upon the top,
we can tell the inclination of the two sides, without movement; our experi-
ence has made the feeling of certain combined dead tensions a symbol of a
series of movements in different directions. Besides, if we would have an
accurate appreciation of the amount of the contraction, we may still, in many
cases, have to repeat the actual movements.
The importance of this mode of discrimination is perhaps best seen in the
eyes. It enters into the explanation of the binocular feeling of solidity.
I have not inserted this feeling in the text among the fundamental dis-
criminations of muscle, because it seems bound up with our sensibility to
movement as there given. If, on the other hand, I were to assume the sense
of the state of contraction as the primary feeling, the sense of movement
would follow; since movement implies that the muscle passes through a
series of states of contraction, and the conscious sequence of these states
would be the mental fact of movement. It is possible that the feeling of
movement may consist of the primary feeling of expended energy (given
in its purity in dead resistance), modified by a muscular sensibility arising
in the change from one stage of contraction to another. But, be this as it
may, I think it enough to assume as distinct and fundamental the three
modes of muscular discrimination discussed in the text.
* Sir William Hamilton, in his Dissertations on Reid, p. 864, has drawn
a distinction between what he calls ‘the locomotive faculty,’ and the muscular
sense, maintaining that the feeling of resistance, energy, power, is due to the
first and not to the second. By this locomotive faculty he means the feeling
of volitional effort, or of the ‘amount of force given forth in a voluntary
action ; while he reduces the application of the term ‘ muscular sense’ to the
passive feeling that he supposes us to have of the state of tension of the
muscle.
His words are: ‘ It is impossible that the state of muscular feeling can
enable us to be immediately cognizant of the existence and degree of a re-
sisting force. On the contrary, supposing all muscular feeling abolished, the
power of moving the muscles at will remaining, I hold that the consciousness
of the mental motive energy, and of the greater or less intensity of such
energy requisite, in different circumstances, to accomplish our intention,
would of itself enable us always to perceive the fact, and in some degree to
measure the amount, of any resistance to our voluntary movement; howbeit
the concomitance of certain feelings with the different states of muscular
tension, renders this cognition not only easier, but, in fact, obtrudes it on our
attention.’
The sense of expended energy I take to be the great characteristic of the
muscular consciousness, distinguishing it from every mode of passive sensa-
100 THE MUSCULAR FEELINGS.
fundamental sensibility of our nature will come up again in
a variety of connexions; and much has still to be said in
order fully to explain the growth of the perceptions of Exter-
nality, Force, Space, and Time.
tion. By the discriminative feeling that we possess of the degree and con-
tinuance of this energy, we recognize the difference between a greater and a
less stretch of muscular tension, and this appears to be the primary sensibility
operating in the case. The other sensibilities of muscle, derived through the
sensitive fibres, may aid us in the important discriminations between the
different modes of increased energy above specified. }
I may here express the obligations we are under to Sir William Hamilton
for his historical sketch of the doctrine of the Muscular Sense, contained in
the same note; which is not the least valuable and interesting of his many
contributions to the history of mental science.
CHAPTER ITI.
OF SENSATION.
( Y Sensations, in the strict meaning, we understand the
> mental impressions, feelings, or states of consciousness,
resulting from the action of external things on some part of
the body, called on that account sensitive. Such are the
feelings caused by tastes, smells, sounds, or sights. ‘These
are the influences said to be external to the mental organiza-
tion ; they are distinguished from influences originating with-
in, as, for example, spontaneous activity (the case we have
already considered), the remembrance of the past, or the
anticipation of the future.
The Sensations are classified according to the bodily organs
concerned in their production ; hence the division into five
senses. But along with distinctness of organ, we have dis-
tinctness in the outward objects, and also in the inward con-
sciousness. Thus, objects of sight are different from objects
of smell; or rather we should say, that the properties and
the agency causing vision are different from the properties
causing smell, taste, or hearing.
The difference of the mental feeling or consciousness in
the various senses is strongly marked, being a more character-
istic and generic difference than obtains among the sensations
of any one sense. We never confound a feeling of sight with
a feeling of sound, a touch witha smell. These effects have
the highest degree of distinctness that human feelings can
possess. The discrimination of them is sure and perfect,
although we sometimes try to assimilate them.
We are commonly said to have five Senses : Sight by the
eye, Hearing by the ear, Touch by the skin, Smell by the
nose, Taste by the mouth. In addition to these, physiologists
102 OF SENSATION.
distinguish a sixth sense, of a more vague description, by the
title of common or general sensibility, as will be seen in the
following extract from Messrs. Todd and Bowman. ‘ Under
the name of common or general sensibility may be included a
variety of internal sensations, ministering for the most part
to the organic functions and to the conservation of the body.
Most parts of the frame have their several feelings of comfort
and pleasure, of discomfort and pain. In many of the more
deeply seated organs, no strong sensation is ever excited, ex-
cept in the form of pain, as a warning of an unnatural con-
dition. ‘The internal sensations of warmth and chillness, of
hunger, thirst, and their opposites, of nausea, of repletion of
the alimentary and genito-urinary organs, and of the relief
succeeding their evacuation, of the privation of air, &., with
the bodily feelings attending strongly excited passions and
emotions, may be mentioned among the principal yarieties of
common sensations.’
In this enumeration we can see several distinct groups of
feelings, and can refer them to distinct bodily organs.
Hunger, thirst, their opposites, nausea, repletion, and evacua-
tion of the alimentary tube, are all associated with the digestive
system. They might therefore be termed the digestive
sensations. The privation of air causes a feeling whose seat
is the lungs, and is one kind of sensibility associated with
respiration. ‘The sensations of warmth and chillness connect
themselves with the skin, with the lungs, and with the organic
processes in general. ‘The genito-urinary organs have a class
of feelings so special and peculiar, that they had better not
be included under common sensibility
Looking at the important classes of feelings here indicated,
important at least as regards human happiness and misery,
considering also that they are but a few examples chosen from
a very wide field, I consider it expedient to describe them in
systematic detail. It is the business of a work like the
present to review the entire range of human sensibility, in so
far as this can be reduced to general or comprehensive heads;
and the question is, where ought these organic feelings to be
CLASS OF ORGANIC SENSATIONS. 103
brought in? I know of no better arrangement than to include
them among the Sensations. The only objection is the want
of outward objects corresponding to them in all cases. The
feelings of comfort or discomfort arising from the circulation,
healthy or otherwise, are not sensations in the full meaning
of the term; they have no distinct external causes like the
pleasures of sound, or the revulsion of a bitter taste. But
the reply to this objection is, first, that in most cases, if not
in all, an external object can be assigned as the stimulus of
the feeling; for example, in the digestive feelings, the contact
of the food with the surface of the alimentary canal, is the
true cause or object of the feeling ;. so the respiratory feelings
may be viewed as sensations .having the air for their outward
object or antecedent. And: with reference to the cases where
feeling cannot be associated with an external contact, as in
the acute pains of diseased parts, we may plead the strong
analogy in other respects between such feelings and proper
sensations. In all else, except the existence of an outward
stimulus, the identity is complete. ‘The seat of the feeling is
a sensitive mass, which can be affected by irritants external
to it, and which yields nearly the same effects in the case of
a purely internal stimulus. So much is this the fact, that we
are constantly comparing our inward feelings to proper sensa-
tions ; we talk of being oppressed, as with a heavy burden,
of being cut, or torn, or erushed, or burned, under acute in-
ternal sensibility. Moved by such considerations, I class
these feelings with sensations, and place them first in the
order of the Senses, under the title of Organic feelings, or
Sensations of Organie Life.
In the Senses as thus made up, it is useful to remark a
division into two groups, according to their importance in the
operations of the Intellect. If we examine the Sensations of
Organic Life, Taste, and Smell, we shall find that as regards
pleasure and pain, or in the point of view of Feeling, they
are of great consequence, but that they contribute little of the
permanent forms and imagery employed in our Intellectual
processes. This last function is mainly served by Touch,
104 SENSATIONS OF ORGANIC LIF.
Hearing, and Sight, which may therefore be called the Intel-
lectual Senses by pre-eminence ; they are not, however, there-
by prevented from serving the other function also, or from
entering into the pleasures and pains of our emotional life.
SENSATIONS OF ORGANIC LIFE.
1. The classification of these is best made to proceed
according to the parts where they have their seat. We have
already adverted to the organic feelings connected with one
tissue, the muscular ; we shall now have to describe them in
full. We must also notice the other tissues entering into the
moving apparatus, namely, the Bones and Ligaments. The
Nerves and Nerve Centres are subject to feelings dependent on
their stimulation, growth, and waste, and on the changes that
they go through in health and disease. The Circulation of the
Blood, with the accompanying processes of secretion, assimi-
lation, and absorption, may be presumed to have a distinct
range of sensibility. The feelings connected with Respiration
are of a less ambiguous character than the foregoing. The
sensations of Dzgestvon are numerous and prominent.
I. Of Organic Muscular Feelings.
2. In a quotation given from Dr. Sharpey, it is remarked
that muscular sensibility ‘is manifested by the pain which is
’ felt when a muscle is cut, lacerated, or otherwise violently
injured, or when it is seized with spasm.’ These forms of
pain are so many states of consciousness, having their seat or
origin in the muscular tissue ; the integrity of the nerves and
nerve centres being likewise essential to this, as to every other
kind of sensibility.
In describing the states of feeling arising through the
Senses, named Sensations, we shall have to assign in each
case the external agent that causes the Sensation (light, sound,
&c.); to follow this up with an account of the action or
change affected on the sensitive surface, (as the skin, the
tongue, &c.) ; and then to proceed with a delineation of the
feeling itself, according to the plan already laid down.
?
ORGANIC MUSCULAR FEELINGS. 105
In the case of the proper muscular sensibilities described
in the foregoing chapter, an external agent could not be
assigned in the same sense as light is to the eye, or hard
surfaces to the skin. But with reference to the first class in
Dr. Sharpey’s enumeration, ‘cuts, lacerations, and violent in-
Juries,’ we discern both an external agent and an assignable
change in the substance of the muscle. There is, in those
circumstances, a sudden break in the continuity of the fibre,
which is an effect productive of pains in almost any tissue of
the body. This is manifestly one of the effects calculated to
give an intense shock to the nerves, originating an energetic
and pungent stimulus, which is transmitted to the centres,
and there wakens up both consciousness and activity in
violent forrns.
Such being the bodily Origin, let us complete the con-
sideration of the PHYSICAL side, by attending to the outward
effects, or embodiments, constituting the Expression of the
feeling. And the remarks on this point, as well as the
further delineation of the conscious state, will serve to
typify acute physical pains generally.
It is well known that a characteristic expression attends
Acute Pains. The features are violently contorted, the voice
is excited to sharp utterances, the whole body is agitated.
Sometimes the ordinary movements are quickened ; at other
times contortions and unusual gestures are displayed. It
would appear that the agency causing the pain is such as
to stimulate to an intense degree the whole moving system.
Indeed, the infliction of pain (within limits) is one of the
customary modes of rousing an animal or a human being
from lethargy to activity. ‘There is also a well known form
of the countenance that marks the condition of pain, being
produced by certain movements of the mouth, the nostrils,
and the eyes, to be afterwards analyzed ; but whatever be the
direction given to these movements, they are marked by the
characteristic of violence or intensity.
The accompaniment of sobbing shows that the involun-
tary muscles and glands are also affected.
106 SENSATIONS OF ORGANIC LIFE.
But we should give a most inadequate account of the
embodiment of pain, if we failed to note the successive stages
of the manifestation. While the first shock may have all
the characters of violence and exalted energy now mentioned,
there follows, after a time, a state of prostration and ex-
haustion, showing that these lively manifestations are no
proof of an increase of vital energy on the whole. On the
contrary, it is demonstrable that of vital energy on the whole
there is a great decrease. Violent exercises of any kind
soon wear out the strength; but the depression of vital
power in all parts of the system—organic functions as well
as muscles—after an attack of pain, is much beyond what
would follow from the same discharge of muscular energy in
the absence of pain. This is a most material consideration,
which is not to be disguised by the show of increased energy
in the early stages. The director of the medical staff of the
British Army in the Crimea was gravely in error when he
discouraged the use of chloroform jin surgical operations, on
the ground that pain is a stimulant. If the termination is
taken into account as well as the beginning, pain in every
form, so far from being a stimulant, destroys the vital
energies. Not only does muscular exhaustion follow, but the
organic processes—the circulation, respiration, and digestion
—are greatly enfeebled, an effect that does not usually result
from mere violence of bodily movement.
These bodily manifestations, which are the natural ac-
companiment of acute pain (arising as an effect of the same
cause), by being freely indulged in, operate as a diversion
and a relief to the mental system. ‘There is probably a
physical sequence in this fact also. Great muscular exertion
draws off the circulation from the brain to the muscles; and
the effusion of tears also in some way reduces the congestion.
We are not, however, rashly to conclude that, under great
pain, a free vent to all the manifestations is preferable to
forced quiescence or suppression ; there is a great expendi-
ture of power under both modes. |
0. To pass now to the MENTAL side, or the character of
ACUTE PAINS TYPIFIED. 107
the states in question, viewed as Feelings. We know, each
one by our own consciousness, what they are; and they are
generalized, pointed out, and understood, by such names as
pain, suffering, agony, torture.
The quality of the feeling is pain. The degree is intense
or acute. The measure is obtained in a twofold manner: by
comparing the pain with other pains, and by the amount of
pleasure that it can neutralize. Taken in both ways, we
consider the sufferings of wounds, lacerations, and acute
derangements of our sensitive tissues, to rank among our
greatest sufferings, our worst miseries. As respects speci-
alities of character, we find language employed to discri-
minate the nature of different pains. A cut or a scald is
different from a fit of rheumatism or gout. Neuralgia is
different from the electric shock. We describe the varieties
by such epithets as burning, gnawing, shooting, racking; and
there is a pathological interest in noting these distinctions.
Pain is apt to rouse some special emotion, in accordance
with the general temperament of the individual. Grief,
terror, or rage, may prevail according to the circumstances,
there being a natural connexion between the shock of acute
suffering and all these passions.
Our plan of description requires us next to advert to the
Volitional characteristics of acute pain. ‘The general prin-
ciple of volition, as applied to pains, holds in this instance.
Such pains, in proportion to their intensity, stimulate us to
efforts for mitigating and putting an end to them when pre-
sent, and for avoiding them when there is danger of their
recurrence. The peculiarity of the case that most deserves
notice is, that since, for a time, they are stimulants of
activity, the disposition to work for their abatement is
very powerful at first, but fails at last with the prostration of
the energies. The effective force of our volitions depends
upon the active power of the system at the moment; and a
state that increases this power, even by a wasteful stimula-
tion, reaps the benefit of that increase, while anything that
depresses and destroys the vital functions, as severe pain
108 SENSATIONS OF ORGANIC LIFE,
does on the whole, to that extent paralyzes the action of
the will. Hence, although a passing smart may waken up
the activity, an intense and continuing pain will fail in the
effect.
The movements that constitute the proper emotional
manifestations, are apt to be mixed up and complicated with
movements directed by the will with a view to relief. It is
generally easy to discriminate the two classes, and it is
important for understanding our mental structure that they
showld be discriminated. The volitional movements are such
as are maintained solely because they bring a felt alleviation.
If any specific posture is of this character, it is energetically
adhered to; and if the mere vehemence of the outburst is
found to deaden our sensibility to the pain, we are induced
thereby to keep up the gesticulations prompted in the first
instance by the emotional wave. Even in the lower animals,
when we witness the convulsions that follow a shock to the
physical system, we may satisfy ourselves as to the existence
of true volitional movements, in company with the demon-
strations that are the proper embodiment of the pain.
If we wish to measure the volitional urgency of a feeling,
we can adopt the same mode of comparison as that suggested
for the degree of pleasure or pain. When two feelings
prompt in opposite ways, the one that determines the conduct
is sald to be volitionally the stronger.
There remains now the bearing of the feelings in question
on the Intellect. Here, as in the Will, there is a general
principle, liable to exceptions and modifications according to
the circumstances of each particular case. The principle is,
that feelings are discriminated, identified, and remembered
according to their degree, whether in intensity or in quantity.
This law holds within a moderate range of excitement. A
very feeble impression cannot be nicely discriminated, and is
little remembered. But the limitation arises when the
degree is excessive and overpowering. There isa pitch of
physical agony that overpowers the purely intellectual
function of discrimination; and although retentiveness is
MEMORY FOR ACUTE PAINS. 109
stimulated by intensity, the remembrance becomes more and
more inadequate to the fullness of the reality. Not only are
we unable to re-instate the acuteness of the suffering, but we
are unable to figure to ourselves even the character of the
pain, until it kas become familiar by many repetitions.
When the same, or nearly the same, pain recurs, we can
mark the agreement, which is a true intellectual function,
requiring.for its exercise the retentive property also; but we
have little power of remembering or imagining the peculiar
features, or the characteristic consciousness of an acute misery.
A good retentiveness for acute pains has not the intellec-
tual importance possessed by the memory for sights and
sounds, but it has a twofold practical importance. In the
first place, on it depends the exercise of the will in the way
of prevention. When a feeling ceases in the actual, it can
have no volitional power, except as it is vividly presented in
idea ; and on this ground, the more lively the recollection, the
more energetically are we moved in our precautionary labours
as regards the future. ‘The degree of retentiveness for pain
is thus the intellectual foundation of Prudence. It is, in the
second place, the foundation of Sympathy, or the power of
entering into the feelings of others when suffering under a
like infliction.
4, The muscular pains that have been the subject of the
above description, are those arising from cuts, lacerations, and
violent injuries, being the incidents that every tissue is liable
to. We have not included the characteristic pain of muscle—
cramp, or spasm. Cramp is well known to be a violent con-
traction of a muscle, in whole or in part, due to some irritation
of the motor nerves that supply the muscle. It is a contrac-
tion probably far beyond what can be induced by a voluntary
effort, and does not relate itself in any way to a power con-
sciously proceeding from the brain. The state of cramp acts
violently upon the sensitive fibres of the muscle; and,
according to Dr. Brown-Séquard, the pain is in proportion to
the resistance offered to the muscle’s contraction. ‘I suppose,’
he says, ‘a case of painful contraction of the anterior muscles
110 SENSATIONS OF ORGANIC LIFE.
of the thigh ; the pain is increased every time the contracted
muscles are elongated; 7. ¢, when the resistance to the con-
traction is augmented ; on the other hand, it diminishes when
the resistance to the contraction is rendered less than it was,
and, at last, 7¢ disappears entirely, or almost entirely, when the
resistance is completely, or almost completely, destroyed.—
(Lectures, p. 7.) The pains in the uterus are of the nature
of spasm, and are relieved by the discharge of the contents.
An explanation is now afforded of what was at first considered
a paradoxical fact, the production of pain by stimulating the
anterior, or the motor, roots of the spinal nerves. The effect
of such stimulation is to contract the muscles, not in that
measured and moderate degree occuring in their contraction
by the will, but with the violence of cramp, thereby imparting
a shock to the sensitive nerves of the muscle. When the
posterior, or sensitive, roots of the nerves are cut, the pain
appears no longer. These explanations are interesting, as
they remove what appeared objections to the discovery asso-
ciated with the name of Bell
It is not requisite to repeat the particulars of the syste-
matic description for this peculiar case. It ranks with the
class of acute pains in all the general characters. But it is,
perhaps, in its nature the most acute and violent of any. We
can discriminate it from cuts, scalds, inflammations, and
sores ; the familiar name ‘racking’ pain describes and classifies
it. Wherever we have the experience characterized by this
epithet, it is probable that the seat is in the muscles, and that
the action 1s cramp or spasm. ‘The involuntary muscles of
the uterus, and of the alimentary canal, occasion the most
ageravated forms of the pain.
5. Another class of feelings connected with the muscles
may be specified under the same general head of Organic
Feelings, those arising from over-fatigue. This cause is known
to produce acute pains of various degrees of intensity, from
the easily endurable up to severe suffering. It is not neces-
sary to advert to these more specifically, they being sufficiently
comprehended by referring them to the genus of acute pains
FEELING OF REPOSE UNDER FATIGUE. 111
of the muscles; they are part of the misery attending manual
toil ; they are also used in punishment.
The characteristic state of supporting a heavy burden is a
form of general depression, to which many modes of suffering
are habitually compared.
Very different is the state of feeling produced by mere
ordinary fatigue, which we may introduce in the present
connexion. This isa state not at all painful, but the opposite.
It is one of the pleasurable experiences allied with the
muscular system.
In this case, there is a pleasurable feeling, more massive
than acute. If a considerable number of the larger muscles
have been in exercise, the sensibility is proportionably great.
Various elements may enter into the effect. The circulation
of the blood, directed strongly for a time to the muscular
tissue, now returns in a more liberal supply to the other
organs,—the brain, the stomach, &c., and the general sensi-
bility of the system is increased. There is, in the next place,
an agreeable reaction from what may have been the com-
mencing pains of fatigue. Allowing for those two collateral
effects, we are still to suppose that the muscle itself gives
rise to a certain pleasurable feeling when in this state. The
degree of it may be, on the whole, considerable ; it is one of
the pleasures of a life of hard exercise or bodily toil, and
taken along with the luxurious slumbers and the general
sensation of health following in its train, it must be regarded
as an appreciable fraction of human enjoyment.
The connexion already remarked on between slow move-
ments and approaching sleep, extends also to muscular repose
and sleep. The massive sensation experienced as we fall
asleep, has its seat, in no inconsiderable degree, in the
muscular tissue, especially after hard exercise, when this
sensibility is most powerfully manifested.
6. I will pass over with very few remarks the Bones and
Iigaments. Their sensibility is exclusively connected with
injury or disease, appearing in that case under the form of
acute pain, a form of sensibility that it is sufficient to have
112 SENSATIONS OF ORGANIC LIFE.
dwelt upon once for all. The minute discrimination of forms
of pain is of great service to the physician, and, if suscep-
tible of being accomplished with precision, would enter with
propriety into a systematic delineation of the Human Mind.
At present we require only to remark, that sensibility every-
where demands a distribution of nerve fibres, and that the
bones and ligaments are supplied with these; and although
not in great number, they are yet sufficient to agitate the
nerve centres with overpowering intensity on particular
occasions. The diseases and lacerations of the periosteum
give birth to excessive pains. The ligaments are said to be
insensible to the cut of a knife, while the feeling of their
being wrenched is most acute and painful. In extreme
fatigue, the ligaments and the tendons of the muscles would
appear to conspire with the muscular tissue, in giving rise to
the disagreeable feeling of the situation. The joints are noted
on various occasions as the seat of pain ; for example, in gout.
The diminution of atmospheric pressure consequent on
ascending a great elevation, causes an intense feeling of
weariness in the hip joints. This is shown by experiments
to be a muscular pain. The rarefaction of the air diminishes
the support of the limb, and it falls down in the joint by its
own weight, thereby becoming an additional burden to the
muscles. Fracture of the bones and laceration of the liga-
ments are among the agonizing incidents of our precarious
existence.
Organic Sensations of Nerve.
;
7. The nerves and nerve centres, apart from their action
as the organs or medium of all human sensibility, have a class
of feelings arising from the organic condition of their pwn
tissue. Wounds and diseases of the nerves are productive of
intense pains ; witness tic-douloureux and the neuralgic affec-
tions of the brain and spinal cord. Nervous exhaustion and
fatigue produces a well known sensibility, very distressing in
its extreme forms; and repose, refreshment, and stimulants
ORGANIC SENSATIONS OF THE NERVES. 113
engender an opposite condition through a change wrought on
the substance of the nerve tissue.
The nervous pains arising from cuts, injuries, and disease
of the substance, are characterized by a most vehement
intensity. When a muscle is spasmodically contracted, the
influence passes from the muscular fibres to the nerve, and the
_ affection of the nervous fibres may then be supposed to be
secondary ; but, in neuralgic affections, the influence comes at
first hand, and not by propagation from some cther tissue.
We have here, therefore, a manifest complication to deal
with. The nervous substance is necessary to all sensibility ;
strictly speaking, every form of pleasure and of pain is
physically embodied in a certain condition of the brain and
nerves. But we have to note, under the present head, the
effects that arise from operating upon the tissue directly, and
not through the organs of sense, or by means of the emotions.
This direct action is exemplified in injuries and in diseases of
the nerves; in the use of stimulating drugs; and in the
agencies whereby the cerebral substance is nourished or
impaired.
8. Nervous fatigue and exhaustion, when carried beyond a
certain pitch, is an extremely trying condition. Itis produced
by excessive expenditure, in one or other of the forms of
nervous exercise; by intense pains, by excess of pleasure
even, by over-much thought, or by too long continued activity
of either body or mind. The effect is a deficient nourishment
of the nerve substance, or a low order of nervous action,
The resulting sensation can be more readily described. The
most painful ageravation of the state occurs when a morbid
activity is generated beyond the control of the individual,
hurrying him for a time into still greater depths of painful
exhaustion.
This state of mind merits a full and orderly delineation.
Commencing as usual with the quality, we must attribute to
it an exaggerated form of pain. This pain is marked not by
acuteness or intensity, but by massiveness or quantity. It is
a wide spread and oppressive sensation. Its peculiar character
8
114 SENSATIONS OF ORGANIC LIFE.
or tone cannot be seized by any descriptive phrase. I must
appeal to each person’s own experience for the perception of
it. ‘The re-action of an intense excitement, the exhaustion of
a severe loss or grievous mortification, will bring up an
instance of it to most minds. It will also be illustrated by
contrast with the opposite state to be next treated of The
Expression of the feeling is one of pain, not acute, but deep-
seated and engrossing; collapsed features, restlessness, fretting,
and melancholy. The Actions prompted are usually some-
thing quite extravagant and misplaced. The getting rid of
life itself is suggested when the condition assumes its most
virulent forms. This is a proof of the total loss of freshness
and health through the substance of the nervous system.
Hence the final triumph of ennui :—
I am aweary, aweary, O God that I were dead!
It is too powerful to be adequately remembered when the
reality has passed away. The most obvious comparison that
the state suggests is with excessive burden or toil in the
moving organs.
To fix by a precise delineation this condition of organic
nervous exhaustion is an extremely important attempt, not-
withstanding the difficulties arising both from the imperfection
of our language, and from the fluctuating and various nature
of the condition itself. The importance lies in the great fact,
that this state is the termination or final issue of a great
many other forms of pain. The struggle that we maintain
against painful inflictions of all kinds, whether bodily or
mental, often preys at last on the substance of the nervous
system, and produces as its result this new form of evil.
9. The consciousness arising out of the healthy and fresh
condition of the nerve tissue, or out of the operations of the
various artificial stimulants, is the exact contrast of the state
now described. I do not inquire into the use and abuse of
those stimulating materials, but merely advert to the effect
common to them all, and for which they are had recourse to ;
an effect also to be reaped from the natural condition of the
THIRST. 115
nervous organs when in their vigour, as may be seen more
particularly in early life.
Following a parallel course of description, we may say of
the state in question, that the outward causes or antecedents
are either healthy agents, or stimulants and drugs. The
physical change in the tissue presumably contains one or
other of these facts :—an abundant supply of arterial blood,
or a great activity of nervous assimilation in the tracks or
modes governing sensibility. The consciousness itself is
pleasurable, and may ascend to very high degrees of pleasure,
both in acuteness and in mass. The action and desire that
it prompts are naturally for continuance unlimited, and the
cast of thought is hopeful for the future. The intellectual
persistence is, as in the other case, low; that is to say, the
state is one difficult; to be remembered or imagined when
once entirely gone, and when either the opposite condition,
or some intermediate neutral one, has taken the place of it.
Organic Feelings of the Circulation and Nutrition.
10. The circulation of the blood through the arteries and
veins by the force of the heart, the secretion of nutritive
material and of excrementitious matter in the several tissues
and glands, and the various acts of absorption corresponding
to those processes—cannot be unattended with feeling. But
the sensation arising out of the different degrees of vigour
attending this course of operations, is both vague and difficult
to isolate. We may surmise with some probability that the
depression of a low pulse and languid circulation has its seat
in the capillaries situated all over the body, or is a sensation
of the circulating machinery. In this connexion, we may
allude to the two formidable experiences—Thirst and Ina-
nition, or privation of Food.
Thirst shows itself in a dryness of the mouth and throat,
accompanied by a feeling of roughness and burning in the
hinder walls of the gullet or the palate, and in the roots of
the tongue. It is connected with a deficiency of water in the
116 SENSATIONS OF ORGANIC LIFE.
blood, as compared with the solid constituents. Hence it is
brought on by profuse perspiration, by inhaling dry air, by
taking solid food, and by partaking of saline or other matters
_ that strongly attract water to themselves. It is sometimes
present, as a sensation, when the mouth is not parched, and
absent in the opposite case; this would imply some deranged
state of the nerve centres.
Inanition is different from hunger ; still, as regards their
physical foundations, the two may be taken together when
we come to speak of Digestion.
The feelings of Inanition and of Thirst, when carried to
the extreme, are states of pervading, massive, deep, and
intolerable wretchedness. They are far more intense than
mere nervous depression, and therefore stimulate a more
vehement expression and a more energetic activity. Even
when not accompanied with the terror of death, they excite
lively and furious passions. The unsophisticated brute is
the best instance of their power. Like other organic states,
they are not very easily realized after they are gone; but the
fear, and stir, and energy that they produce at the time, leave
a much more lasting impression than mere low spirits; we
take far greater precautions against them than against
nervous depression.
The final result of the healthy operation of the nutrient
organs, on the one hand, and of the purifying organs, on the
other, may be considered as a perfect state of the blood.
The consciousness growing out of a vigorous circulation,
with all that this implies, may be looked upon as the most
characteristic sensation of pure animal existence. There is a
thrill of corporeal gratification, not very acute, but of con-
siderable volume, a gentle glow felt everywhere, rendering
existence enjoyable, and disposing to serene and passive
contentment.
Let me have men about me that are fat;
Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep o’ nights.
It seems to be through the circulation that we are sen-
RESPIRATION. 1ti
sitive to atmospheric changes, more particularly as regards
moisture and dryness. It is found that in a dry atmosphere
the capillary circulation is quickened, and in a moist atmo-
sphere retarded. The influence of heat and cold probably
extends to the circulation and the nutritive functions.
Feelings of Respiration.
11. ‘Respiration is that function by which an interchange
of gases takes place between the interior of an organized
being and the external medium ; and, in the animal kingdom,
oxygen is the gas received, and carbonic acid the gas given
out. The aeration of the animal fluids or juices is an essen-
tial of their vitality ; if this is put an end to, death ensues
instantaneously ; if insufficiently performed, the vigour of
the animal is lowered, and a peculiar painful sensation expe-
rienced. In man and in air-breathing animals, there is a
wind-apparatus, the lungs, inflated and contracted by muscles,
so as to suck in and force out the air by turns.
In this action we have all the particulars necessary to
constitute a Sense; an external olject-—the air of the atmo-
sphere—which operates by physical contact upon the lining
membrane of the tubes and cells of the lungs; an organ of
sense, and a resulting state of feeling, or consciousness. The
peculiarity of the case lies in its being almost entirely an
emotional sense; generating feeling rather than yielding
knowledge, or providing forms for the intellect; ranking,
therefore, among the lower, and not among the higher, senses.
As respects the object of this sense, the external air, it
need only be remarked, that the air differs considerably in
its quality fer breathing purposes, the chief point of differ-
ence being expressed by the term ‘purity.’ The purity is
affected first by the loss of oxygen, which happens when the
same air is repeatedly breathed, or otherwise consumed ;
secondly, by the accumulation of carbonic acid, from the
same circumstance ; and, thirdly, by the presence of foreign
gases and effluvia arising from animal life, vegetation, or
_ other causes, Closeness or confinement is the chief aggra-
118 SENSATIONS OF ORGANIC LIFE.
vation of all those impurities. Of the three evils—the loss
of oxygen, the accumulation of carbonic acid, and the gene-
ration of effluvia of animal and other substances—the second
is the least injurious; for, although the production of a
carbonic acid atmosphere, by burning charcoal in a close
room, is fatal to life, yet the quantity ordinarily occurring in
rooms is not found to do any harm, if mixed with air other-
wise pure. The loss of oxygen, and the diffusion of the
gases of decay, are the main influences that deteriorate the
atmosphere.
Of the organ acted upon, the lungs, a minute description
is not necessary for our present purpose. ‘The structure is so
arranged by ramifications and doublings as to present a very
extensive surface to the air; the surface consisting of a fine
membrane, with capillary blood-vessels, thickly distributed
on its inner surface. The'exchange of gases takes place
through the double medium of membrane and capillary tube.
The muscular apparatus for sustaining the bellows-action, is
the diaphragm and abdominal muscles, and the muscles of
the chest or ribs. The integrity and vigour of these muscles,
and of the centres that sustain and time their action, must be
reckoned as a condition of healthy respiration.
The respiratory nerve centres are stimulated from all
parts of the body, but chiefly from those that, like the
muscles, are large consumers of oxygen. The portion of the
eighth pair of nerves named the nervus vagus, is instru-
mental in keeping up the rhythm of the lungs, and is also
necessary to the feeling of suffocation.
The feelings of Respiration, both pleasurable and painful,
are well marked. They include the gratification from pure
air, enhanced by the increased action due to muscular exer-
cise ; the various shades of oppression from over-crowded
rooms and unwholesome gases ; the distressing experience of
suffocation, or want of breath; and the pains attendant on
disease of the lungs.
12. The influence of pure and stimulating air abundantly
inhaled, spreads far and wide over the system, elevating all
PURE AIR, 119
the other functions by the improved quality imparted to the
blood. ‘The indirect consequences do not altogether hide the
grateful sensibility arising from the lungs themselves, and
referred by us to the region of the chest; a sensation not
very acute or prominent, but possessing that choice and well
known quality, expressed by the term ‘ freshness,’ or ‘ refresh-
ing.” This quality manifestly implies a contrast; for it is
felt only when we pass from a lower to a higher degree of
aeration. We may experience it at any time, by holding in
the breath for a little, and then allowing it full play. No
technical nomenclature can increase the conception possessed
by every one of this remarkable sensibility ; but for the sake
of comparison with the other parts of our mental constitution,
an attempt at verbal description is necessary. As just
remarked, the sensation turns upon the contrast of the greater
activity of the lungs with an immediately preceding activity
of an inferior degree. It may be affirmed that no feeling
arises from the lungs, after a given pace has been estab-
lished for a length of time; but any acceleration of the rate of
exchange of the two gases (by no means depending altogether
on the rate of breathing) does for a time yield that delightful
freshening sensation, which tells so immediately on the mental
system as a contribution to our enjoyment, and as a stimulus
to our activity and to our desire for rural recreation and
bodily exercise.
13. The feelings of insufficient and impure air are mani-
fested in the forms of faintness, sense of exhaustion and
weariness, and are doubtless due, not to the lung-sense alone,
but to the lowered condition of the body at large. The
characteristic sensibility of the lungs is shown in the state
termed suffocation, arising from the want of air, as in drown-
ing, in an atmosphere deteriorated by poisonous gases—such
as chlorine or sulphurous acid, in attacks of asthma, and in
voluntarily holding in the breath. ‘After holding the breath
for fifteen or twenty seconds during ordinary respiration, or
forty seconds after a deep respiration, there arises an insup-
portable sensation over the whole chest, concentrated under
120 SENSATIONS OF ORGANIC LIFE.
the sternum, and no effort can maintain the interruption of
the respiratory acts. This urgent sensation of want of breath,
when carried to its full extent by any mechanical impediment
to the aeration of the blood, is one of the most painful and
oppressive kind, and is referable to the pulmonary plexuses
(of nerves) distributed to the bronchia, and perhaps on the
walls of the lobular passages and cells. The impression made
on these peripheral nerves by the absence of oxygen, and the
undue presence of carbonic acid in the air in contact with
them, is propagated to the spinal cord and medulla oblongata
by the sympathetic and vagus, and there excites those com-
bined actions of the muscles of inspiration. which lead to the
renewal of the air.—(Topp and Bowman, II., 403.) The
sensation is of the class ‘racking pains,’ and may be, in part,
muscular.
Feelings of Heat and Cold.
14, The description of these important feelings comes pro-
perly under Organic Sensations, in so far as change of tem-
perature affects all the organs of the body. Warmth, while
abating the activity of the organic processes generally, in-
duces in the skin a richer circulation, and a greater activity
in the sweat, and in the oil glands. The various parts of
the cuticle, the nails and the hair, are more abundantly pro-
duced. The sensory powers of the organ are greater, and
the texture is softer and more polished.
Inasmuch as cold (not in excess) increases the activity of
the muscles, the nerves, the respiration, and the digestion,
the animal powers attain their maximum in cold climates,
and in the winter season, allowance being made for constitu-
tions unfitted to endure extreme depression of temperature.
Sudden changes of temperature derange the functions. A
sudden increase will cause a slight feeling of suffocation,
beating of the heart, and increased pulsation and respiration.
A sudden chill makes breathing difficult, quick, and irregular,
and increases the pulsations. The nerves lose their excit- |
SENSATION OF COLD. 121
ability both under a great depression, and under a great |
increase of temperature.
The feelings of heat and cold are very notable. Let us
commence with Cold. The outward cause of this feeling is
some influence tending to lower the temperature of the body.
The natural heat of the blood is about 98°, and any contact
below this point feels cold; any contact above it feels warm.
There is a certain surplus heat generated in the human
system, which enables us to live in a medium below 98’,
without feeling cold; and if this heat be husbanded by cloth-
ing, a very great depression of external temperature may be
endured. A room is warm at 60°. The outer air can be
endured at freezing and far below, either by means of exercise,
which evolves heat, or of clothing, which retains it.
An acute cold acts like a cut or a bruise, injuring the part
affected, and causing painful sensations of the class arising
from violent local injuries. The temperature of freezing
mercury would destroy the skin like boiling water or a sharp
cut.
The proper sensation of Cold arises from a general cooling
of the body, or any considerable part of it, below blood heat.
The term ‘ chillness’ expresses the state of feeling, which is
of the painful class. The degree is not acute but massive.
In the worst forms, it is wretchedness in the extreme. Toa
person suffering from excessive chillness, some powerful
stimulant, such as the taking of food, alcohol, or tobacco, is
necessary to restore equanimity. The volition and the
memory are proportionally impressed by the pains of cold,
and they take a high rank in the reckonings of forethought
and prudence.
It is a singular fact in our constitution, that an agency
calculated to quicken the vitality of so many leading organs
—muscles, nerves, lungs, stomach—should affect us so power-
fully, by the depression of one organ. The fact is highly
illustrative of the importance of the skin, whether from its
organic functions or from its sensibility. Probably both
circumstances enter into the case. It may be that the
122 SENSATIONS OF ORGANIC LIFE.
quickened vitality of all the other leading organs is unavailing
for a perfectly healthy tone while the skin is depressed. But
it must be also true, that we are in a peculiar degree sensitive
to changes in the condition of the skin, owing no doubt to its
great supply of nerves.
15, The consequences of Heat are, in nearly every parti-
cular, the opposite of those now stated. Acute or intense
heats agree with intense colds in being simply destructive
and painful. Within the point of injury to the tissues, heat
is a pleasurable sensation. The pleasure of heat, like the
pain of cold, is voluminous or massive. There are cases,
however, distinguished by intensity rather than by quantity ;
indeed, this distinction of quantity and intensity, used as a
part of the description of feelings, has its perfect type in the
case of temperature, there being a physical reality correspond-
ing to the mental facts. Sometimes we have great intensity
and small quantity, as in the scorching rays of a fire, or a cup
of hot tea: at other times we have large quantity with low
intensity, as in a hot bath, a warm room, a warm bed. The
hot bath is the extreme instance. By no other contrivance
can such a mass of heat be brought to bear upon the human
system ; consequently this presents the sensation of warmth
in its most luxuriant form. It is the intoxication of animal
heat. We are unavoidably led to assume that this warmth
must act powerfully on the sensitive nerves; for itis hardly
to be supposed, that the organic processes are so greatly
furthered by the sustained temperature as to exalt the pleasur-
able consciousness in this remarkable degree. Indeed, we
may derange the system by excessive heat, without producing
the painful feeling arising from cold. |
In the case of morbid activity of the nervous system,
warmth is a soothing influence, either by its physical effects,
or by the nature of the sensation, or from both combined.
The feelings of Respiration, and those of Heat and of
Cold, illustrate in a marked manner the fundamental doctrine
of Relativity, or of change as a condition of consciousness.
There is no feeling of respiration, unless by increase or
MATERIALS OF FOOD. Ea
diminution of the action of the lungs ; and if we lived in an
even temperature, heat and cold would be alike unknown.
The induction of the principle of Relativity as regards these
states is complete.
Sensations of the Alimentary Canal.
16. Digestion offers all the conditions of a sense. There
is an external object—the Food ; a distinct organ of sense—
the Alimentary Canal and its appendages; and a set of
Feelings arising from the contact, also distinct and specific.
To treat these feelings under Taste, is to confound together
two senses totally different in their character, although hap-
pening to have one common object or stimulant.
The oljects of this sense are the materials taken into the
body as food and drink. These materials are extremely
various, but there is no corresponding variety in their action
on the stomach. They can be reduced to a few general
heads, according to their composition, it being found possible
to assign a few leading substances that comprehend all the
different sorts of material serviceable in nourishing the body.
The following is an abstract of this classification :—
1st. Water and the watery liquids, including substances
conveyed in solution, or suspension, in water.
2nd. Saccharine substances derived from the vegetable
kingdom. ‘These comprehend sugars, starch, gums, vinegar.
3rd. Orly substances. These include the various fats and
oils as well as alcohol. Like the former group, they are com-
posed of carbon and the elements of water, but in them the
carbon is in a much higher proportion.
Ath. Albuminous substances, containing nitrogen : fibrine,
gelatine, albumen, caseine (matter of cheese), vegetable gluten.
‘All the materials which make up this group are derived
generally from the animal kingdom, with the exception of
the last, which is contained in great abundance in wheat ;
similar if not identical principles exist in other vegetables.
Wheat, indeed, consists of two substances—one referable to
124. SENSATIONS OF ORGANIC LIFE.
the saccharine group, the other to the albuminous, the former
consisting of starch, the latter of gluten.’
Milk is found to contain matter of all the four classes:
water, sugar, oily matters (butter), caseine.
The three first classes are incapable of nourishing the
principal animal tissues, such as nerve, muscle, &. They
are fitted rather for supplying fat, bile, and matters used in
the production of the carbonic acid that escapes from the
lungs. Being supposed to be mainly destined for the supply
of animal heat, by being combined with oxygen, or slowly
burned, they were formerly termed calorifacient ; but this is
now reckoned a too narrow view. Experiments recently
made have proved that their combustion is the chief source
of muscular power; being an example of chemical com-
bination transmuted into mechanical force, of which a parallel
is found in the steam-engine. The same combustion may
also be the source of the nerve force ; the parallel case being
the voltaic circuit, where the electricity is evolved from
chemical combination in the cells.
The albuminous bodies are undoubtedly the tissue-
forming material, having a composition fitted for the purpose.
But they are not confined to this function; in their final
transformations and decay, they may be at last oxidized and
become the source of heat, muscular force, and nerve force,
like the others.
Certain substances of the saline, earthy, or mineral class,
are requisite; most of them being found in the usual
articles of food. Salts of soda, potash, and lime, as well as
iron and phosphorus, are essential ingredients.
The Stimulants are classified into spices, or condiments ;
‘ vegetable alkaloids, as tea, coffee, cocoa; extractives, as
ereatin and creatinin, occurring in the juice of meat; and the
alcoholic beverages. For the most part, these substances are
not directly nutritive ; they act as stimulants to the nervous
system, and also retard the waste of tissue. The organic
vegetable acids,—vinegar, the acids of fruit, and lactic acid,
are in extensive use as an ingredient of food.
ORGANS OF DIGESTION, 125
The differences that exist among the infinity of articles
used as food are not at bottom so great as they seem. If we
take the different species of grain—wheat, barley, rye, oats,
rice, maize, millet, we shall find they are all composed of the
same ultimate materials, gluten and starch, though not in the
same proportions. In like manner, the potato is a starchy
vegetable, with a very small share of gluten, hence the defec-
tive character of it as an article of nourishment. Another
difference among vegetables relates to their texture, as fitting
them for being acted on during mastication and digestion,—
a circumstance, however, that cooking can modify. Thus
the potato is a much looser texture than grain. of an inch in height. In
the ridges, the large papille are
placed sometimes in single, but — W€
more commonly in double rows, Ul VY,
; Rew DY —
with smaller ones between them,
that is, also on the ridges, for there are none in the inter-
vening grooves. These ridges are marked at short and
tolerably equal intervals with notches, or short transverse
furrows, in each of which, about its middle, is the minute
funnel-shaped orifice of the duct of a sweat gland. Fine
blood-vessels enter the papille, forming either simple capil-
lary loops in each, or dividing, according to the size of the
papille, into two or more capillary branches, which turn
round in form of loops, and return to the veins. Filaments
of nerves are also to be discovered ascending into the papille,
but their mode of termination is doubtful. In other parts
of the skin, endowed with less sensibility, the papille are
smaller, shorter, fewer in number, and irregularly scattered.
In parts where they are naturally small, they often become
enlarged by chronic inflammation round the margin of sores
and ulcers of long standing, and are then much more con-
spicuous. —QUAIN.T
Fig. 6.*
* ¢Papille of the palm, the cuticle being detached.—Magnified 35
diameters.’—(‘Topp and Bowman.)
+ Inside the papille are either nerves or blood vessels, seldom both;
and at their base, the nerves are disposed in the form of net-work. In great
part of the skin, the nerves cannot be traced farther than this net-work ; it
is in the hands, feet, lips (red part), and tongue that they are followed into
the interior of the papilla. In these parts they end in a peculiar structure,
known as the ‘ little bodies of touch,’ discovered by Wagner and Meissner.
These are little sacks, covered by a thin skin, and filled with a round little
mass. The skin is pierced by one or two nerves, which often wind spirally,
but end by dividing and spreading their twigs in the little sack. These bodies
lie in the interior of papille destitute of blood vessels, in such a manner as to
project far above the upper end of the papillw, and in immediate contact with
FUNCTIONS OF THE SKIN.: 165
I have quoted the description of the papille at length
because of their connexion with the sensibility of the skin.
I shall refrain from quoting the minute account of the nails
and hairs, however interesting their structure in other points
of view. Respecting the glands, it is only necessary to advert
to the totally different nature of the two sorts, as respects the
material secreted. The sweat glands are enormously numerous,
and exist in all regions of the skin; they are reckoned to
vary from 400 to 2,800 in a square inch. ‘The sebaceous
or oil glands pour out their secretions at the roots of
the hairs, for, with very few isolated exceptions, they open
into the hair follicules, and are found wherever there are
hairs.’
4, With respect to the functions and vital properties of
the skin in general, I quote part of Dr. Sharpey’s summary.
‘The skin forms a general external tegument to the body,
defining the surface, and coming into relation with foreign
matters externally, as the mucous membrane, with which it
is continuous and in many respects analogous, does internally.
It is also a vast emunctory, by which a large amount of fluid
is eliminated from the system, in this also resembling certain
parts of the mucous membrane. Under certain conditions,
moreover, it performs the office of an absorbing surface ; but
this function is greatly restricted by the epidermis. Through-
out its whole extent the skin is endowed with tactile sensibility,
but in very different degrees in different parts. On the skin
of the palm and fingers, which is largely supplied with nerves
and furnished with numerous prominent papille, the sense
the cuticle. They are most numerous on the inside of the finger tips, and
decrease towards the palm; the same happens with the foot. Meissner found
in a square line (yz of a square inch) on the index finger, 108 on the last
joint, 40 on the second, 15 on the first. In the red part of the lips, the
papille carrying nerves are not distinguishable from those carrying blood
vessels, the same papilla appearing to have both.
The little muscles discovered by Koélliker in the skin, and especially in
the glands, excite peculiar movements as in shivering, the creeping sensation,
&c. These are especially affected by changes of temperature, and may serve
to regulate the supply of blood under such changes.
166 SENSE OF TOUCH.
attains a high degree of acuteness ; and this endowment, to-
gether with other conformable arrangements and adaptations,
invests the human hand with the character of a special organ
of touch. A certain, though low degree of vital contractility,
seems also to belong to the skin. —QUAIN.
Of the other parts sensible to Touch, besides the skin,
namely, the tongue and mouth, the needful description has
been already furnished under the sense of Taste.
The nerves of touch are the sensory or posterior roots of
the spinal nerves for the limbs and trunk, and certain of the
cerebral nerves (the fifth pair) for the head, face, mouth, and
tongue.*
5. The action in touch is known to be simple pressure.
The contact of an object compresses the skin, and through it
the embedded nerve filaments. That the squeezing or pinch-
ing of a nerve can produce sensibility is proved in many
experiments : in touch, the squeezing is of a more gentle
nature, owing to the protection that the covering of skin gives
to the nerves. ‘he only point of interest connected with the
mode of action is the singular fact, that very light contacts
often produce a great sensibility, as the touch of a feather
or of a loose hanging piece of dress, which sensibility is
diminished by making the contact more intense. Great
pressures yield comparatively little. sensation in the skin ;
they are felt mainly in the muscles as a feeling of force and
resistance.
This fact of the disproportion of the feeling to the pressure
I can account for in no other way than by supposing, that
ereat compression has an effect in deadening the conducting
property of the nerve. We know from various observations
that the compression of a nerve does tend to arrest its con-
ductibility ; the deadening of the sensibility of the hand by
leaning the elbow on a table, so as to squeeze the nerve that
* It is supposed that the important nerves of touch in the extremities
have a different course in the brain from the nerves of the trunk. Tiirk has
shown that in the hand and foot the same spot is supplied from different roots
in the spinal cord.
SENSATIONS OF SOFT TOUCH. 167
passes near the surface on the elbow joint, is a familiar
instance.
6. We come now to the sensations, or feelings of touch,
which are various in kind, and have many of them a con-
siderable degree of interest, from their bearing on the higher
operations of mind. In the order of enumeration, I shall
commence as usual (I.) with those having reference to pleasure
or pain, or that may be called predominantly emotional.
Sensations of Soft Touch—lIn this class of feelings, we
suppose the gentle contact of some extended surface with the
skin. I keep out of view the feeling of temperature. A
good example is furnished by the contact of the under
clothing with the general surface of the body, which is most
perfect under the bed-clothes at night. The glove not too
tight on the hand is another instance. The extended hand,
resting on a cushion, or other soft body, is a sufficiently good
type of the situation.
The resulting sensation is of the pleasurable kind, not
acute, but massive. It closely resembles agreeable warmth.
It is less powerful, but probably more retainable in idea,
than the muscular or the digestive sensibilities. Its rela-
tionship tc the tender emotion is elsewhere discussed. (THE
EMOTIONS AND THE WILL, Tender Emotion.)
The habitual inattention to the sensibility of the clothing
is a striking example of the law of Relativity. The remis-
sion of the contact is felt, on the same principle, as a sensa-
tion of blankness.
In the feelings of the lachrymal, mammary, and sexual
organs, the mode of action appears to be something more
than simple contact ; the quality of the touching substance
affects the sensation. In the tranquil flow of the lachrymal
fluid, under genial tender emotion, there is a certain amount of
agreeable sensation in the eye; but when the eyes are flooded
in profuse grief, the contact of the liquid with the eye-lids is
scarcely pleasurable. There is probably, if not a chemical,
at least a dialytical action on the sensitive surfaces, in those
instances.
168 SENSE OF TOUCH.
The mutual contact of living animal bodies yields a com-
plex sensation of softness and warmth, and excites the
corresponding emotions. There may be, in addition, magnetic
or electric influences of a genial kind, but the reality of such
currents is by no means established.
The attraction between the mother and offspring is partly
grounded upon the pleasure of the soft warm contact. This
keeps the new-born animal by the mother’s side, before it has
come under the farther gratification of being fed and nourished ;
and continues to co-operate with that still more powerful
motive to close proximity. Ata later period, the contact of
the opposite sexes, stimulated, in the first instance, by the
pleasure of mere touch, discloses and inspires in each the
sexual urgencies, and the tentatives for gratifying them.
Many of the habitual attitudes and modes of outward
expression are regulated by the pleasure of soft touch. The
child puts its finger or hand to its mouth, either for the mere
pleasure of the act, or as a comforting sensation in distress ;
and all through life the contact of the hand with the parts of
the face is practised from the same motives. Many other
attitudes and actions are governed by the pleasures of touch ;
some, as scratching the head, are apparently the search for
pungency.
7. Pungent and painful Sensations of Touch—When,
instead of a diffusive soft contact, we have an intense action
on limited spots, mere points, as in the stroke of a whip, a
sensation of smartness is produced very different from the
above. In moderate degree, this gives a pleasurable pun-
gency, beyond which it is acutely painful. The nerves are
shocked as by the prick of an instrument, and the over-
intensity and suddenness of the stimulus is a cause of pain.
The nature of the sensation is not radically different from a
cut in the skin; its peculiar smartness excites the whole
system. It prompts the most decisive actions for avoiding
the pain, and an intense mental aversion to all that relates
to it. The intensity gives to it a hold on the memory not
possessed by the luxurious feeling of diffused softness. |
PAINFUL SENSATIONS OF TOUCH. 169
Hence the efficacy of skin inflictions in the discipline of
sensitive beings.
Other things being the same, the sensibility of the skin to
these two classes of feelings is greatest in parts most richly
supplied with nerves, and where the discriminative or tactile
sensibility is greatest, as in the tongue, the lips, and the palm
of the hand.
8. Other painful Sensations of the Skin—Among these I
would first advert to the sensation of tickling. On this
Weber remarks, that the lips, the walls of the nasal openings,
and the face generally, when touched with a feather, give the
peculiar sensation of tickling, which continues till the part is
rubbed by the hand. In the nose, the irritation leads at last
to sneezing. The excitation extends to the ducts of the
glands, which pour out their contents, and increase the
irritation. The violent commotion produced by bodies in
contact with the eye, is of the nature of tickling, accompanied
by a flow from the glands, and readily passing into pain.
Why some places are liable to this sensation, and others not,
it is difficult to explain. The possession of delicate tactual
discrimination is not necessary to the effect.
The singularity of tickling is the fact that a very trifling
sensation prompts to extraordinary efforts of the will for
deliverance. The tickling of the arm-pit, or the soles of a
susceptible person, is as violently repudiated as the touch of a
scalding surface. |
There is one consideration that may help to account for
the anomaly. It is the nature of tickling to stimulate intense
reflex movements ; these are, on their own account, a source
of massive discomfort and repugnance. ‘The same tactile
feeling, if unaccompanied with reflex stimulation, might be
wholly indifferent. This remark may apply to the tickling
that precedes laughing and sneezing. The irritation of the
fauces brings about, in the first instance, reflex contractions
of the muscles of the throat; these are more or less acutely
painful ; thereupon, we give way to the farther impulse to
spasmodic expiration.
170 SENSE OF TOUCII.
Possibly the same explanation may be extended to the
chafing and fretting of the skin, when too slight to be painful
as a pungent smart. A reflex stimulus is applied when the
nervous system is irritable, and when forced muscular move-
ments would be painful and repugnant. It is not the sensa-
tion by itself that we dread, but the wakening up of activity
when we are courting repose and quiescence.
All the parts of the skin are liable to yield painful
sensations, especially under injury or distemper. ‘The
epidermis is itself insensible, but the true skin is extremely
alive to feeling. When lacerated, chafed, or burnt, it causes
acute pains. Its capillary vessels and numerous sweat glands
and oil glands are, in all probability, the source of pleasurable
or painful organic sensations. ‘The long continued compres-
sion of the same part of the skin creates uneasiness. The
hairs are themselves insensible, but by their attachment to
the skin they are the media of sensation. The place of
attachment of the nails is the seat of a violent form of acute
pain, which has a facility of seizing on the imagination, and
of exciting revulsion even in idea.
Clanminess is a distinct sensation arising from the ad-
hesion of a substance to the skin, and is an uneasy feeling,
the uneasiness being due to some anterrupbion of the natural
functions of the part.
9. (IL.) Sensations of Temperature—The feelings of heat
and cold are most powerfully felt in the skin ; the sensitive-
ness also extending to the gullet, the stomach, and the rectum.
There is no reason for supposing that any other nerves than
those of touch are needed to a rouse a sensation of warmth or
of coolness. As to the mode of action, heat being a state of
molecular motion will impart molecular disturbance to the
nerves, and thus operate as a stimulant, favourably or un-
favourably according to the circumstances.*
* Sir William Hamilton thinks it probable that the sensation of heat
depends on a peculiar set of nerves, for two reasons: ‘1st, Because certain
sentient parts of the body are insensible to this feeling ; and, 2nd, Because I
have met with cases recorded, in which, while sensibility in general was
DISCRIMINATION OF TEMPERATURE. 171
The sensation of wetness seems to be nothing else than a
form of cold.
As regards the discrimination of degrees of Temperature,
it appears that we are equally sensitive at high and at low
points of the thermometer. According to Weber, we can
discriminate 14° Reaumur from 14.4°, as well as 30° from
30.4° ; and the discrimination is all the better by the change
being rapidly made. It is also better when the unequal
temperatures are applied at the same time to contiguous
parts, than when the parts touched are remote from each
other. The sensitiveness of different parts to temperature is
not solely dependent on the abundance of nerves supplied to
the part ; some other circumstance at present unknown is in
operation. Weber’s graduated scale for heat is as follows :—
tip of the tongue, eyelids, lips, neck, trunk. In the face, breast,
and abdomen, the central parts are less sensitive than the sides.
The sensitiveness is increased by extent of surface. In
an experiment with dipping the finger into water at 32° R,,
and the whole hand in 294°, the latter appeared the warmer
of the two.
It is remarked that when one part of the body touches
another, the temperature being the same, the part endowed
with the finer tactile power feels the other. If the tempera-
abolished, the sensibility to heat remained apparently undiminished.’—Rerp,
p. 875.
On the other hand, the experiments of Weber, while leading to the con-
clusion that the integrity of the skin is necessary to the discrimination of
degrees of temperature by touch, give no ground for supposing that any
other nerve fibres than those of common tactile sensation are necessary.—
CARPENTER’S Human Physiology, 4th edition, § 866.
Brown-Séquard is, however, of opinion that, in the spinal cord, the
channel for conducting impressions of temperature is different from that for
tactile impressions.
It may be remarked that the discriminative sensibility of the skin,
shown in the feeling of plurality of impressions, implies an internal or central
organization for receiving, independently, the stimuli of the different parts.
Now, an internal derangement might vitiate this independent conveyance of
impressions without destroying the sensibility of the fibres to the impulses of
heat, or cold, or other strong irritation. It has been stated that when the thalami
optici are injured, tactile sensation is lost, but not the sensibility to pain.
172 SENSE OF TOUCH.
tures are different, the first feels the second tactually, while
the second feels the temperature of the first. The hand is
not felt tactually by the brow, nor is the coldness of the
brow felt by the hand.
It is a singular fact, discovered by Weber, in connexion .
with the sense of temperature, that when two substances of
the same weight, but of different temperatures, are estimated
by the sense of touch or of pressure, the colder appears the
heavier. ‘The depressing effect of the cold chill upon the
mind may be the explanation. This is somewhat analogous
to the perversion of our estimate of time by an unusual
elation or depression of the general mental tone: in the one
case we imagine it to pass rapidly, in the other slowly.
The feeling of temperature is an element in many discrim-
inations, as in the distinction between stone and wood.
We pass now (IIL) to the most intellectual sensations of
Touch, and first to cases of Touch simply.
10. (1.) Impressions of distingushable Points ——I have al-
ready called attention to the discriminative or articulate charac-
ter of the sense of touch, whereby it receives distinguishable
impressions from the variously situated parts of an extended
surface. Very interesting differences in the degree of this
discrimination are observable on different parts of the surface
of the body, which have been especially illustrated by the
experiments of Weber.
‘These consisted in placing the two points of a pair of
compasses, blunted with sealing wax, at different distances
asunder, and in various directions, upon different parts of the
skin of an individual. It was then found, that the smallest
distance at which the contact can be distinguished to be
double, varies in different parts between the thirty-sixth of
an inch and three inches ; and this seems a happy criterion
of the acuteness of the sense. We recognize a double im-
pression on very sensible parts of the skin, though the points
are very near each other; while, in parts of less acute sensi-
bility, the impression is of a single point, although they may
be, in reality, far asunder.
DISTINGUISHABLE POINTS. 173
‘In many parts we perceive the distance and situation
of two points more distinctly when placed transversely, than
when placed longitudinally, and vice versd. For example,
in the middle of the arm or fore-arm, points are separately
felt at a distance of two inches, if placed crosswise ; but
scarcely so at the distance of three, if directed lengthwise to
the limb.
‘Two points, at a fixed distance apart, feel as if more
widely separated when placed on a very sensitive part, than
when touching a surface of blunter sensibility. This may be
easily shown by drawing them over regions differently en-
dowed ; they will seem to open as they approach the parts
acutely sensible, and vice versa.
‘If contact be more forcibly made by one of the points
than by the other, the feebler ceases to be distinguished ; the
stronger impression having a tendency to obscure the weaker,
in proportion to its excess of intensity.
‘Two points, at a fixed distance, are distinguished more
clearly when brought into contact with surfaces varying in
structure and use, than when applied to the same surface, as,
for example, on the internal and external surface of the lips,
or the front and back of the finger.
‘Of the extremities, the least sensitive parts are the middle
regions of the chief segments, as in the middle of the arm,
fore-arm, thigh, and leg. The convexities of the joints are
more sensible than the concavities.
‘The hand and foot greatly excel the arm and leg, and the
hand the foot. The palms and soles respectively excel the
opposite surfaces, which last are even surpassed by the lower
parts of the fore-arm and leg. On the palmar aspect of the
hand, the acuteness of the sense corresponds very accurately
with the development of the rows of papille; and where
these papille are almost wanting, as opposite the flexions of
the joints, it is feeble.
‘The scalp has a blunter sensibility than any other part
of the head, and the neck does not even equal the scalp.
The skin of the face is more and more sensible as we
174 SENSE OF TOUCH.
approach the middle line; and the tip of the nose and red
parts of the lips are acutely so, and only inferior to the tip
of the tongue. This last, in a space of a few square lines
(a line is +4; of an inch), exceeds the most sensitive parts
of the fingers; and points of contact with it may be gene-
rally perceived distinctly from one another, when only one-
third of a line intervenes between them. [The superior
sensibility of the tip of the tongue to the finger, is illus-
trated by the familiar observation, that a hole in a tooth
seems very much exaggerated when felt by the tip of the
tongue.| As we recede from the tip along the back or sides
of the tongue, we find the sense of touch much duller.
‘The sensibility of the surface of the trunk is inferior to
that of the extremities or head. The flanks and nipples,
which are so sensitive to tickling, are comparatively blunt in
regard to the appreciation of the distance between points of
contact. Points placed on opposite sides of the middle line,
either before or behind, are better distinguished than when
both are on the same side.
‘The above are the results obtained by making the
several parts mere passive and motionless recipients of
impressions. They evince the precision of the sense in so
far only as it depends on the organization of the tactile
surface. The augmented power derived from change of
position of the object with regard to the surface, is well
illustrated by keeping the hand passive, while the object is
made to move rapidly over it. In this case the contact of
the two points is separately perceived, when so close that
they would, if stationary, seem as one. If, still further, the
fingers be made to freely traverse the surface of an object,
under the guidance of the mind, the appreciation of contact
will be far more exquisite, in proportion to the variety of the
movements, and the attention given to them. We are then
said to feel, or to examine by the sense of touch. —Topp and
Bowman, L., 429-30.
These observations of Weber have been deservedly cele-
brated by physiologists, as the foundation of an accurate
WEBER'S EXPERIMENTS, 175
mode of estimating the tactile sensibility of the skin. They
have been extended by other observers, as may be seen in Dr.
Carpenter’s article on Touch in the Cyclopedia of Anatomy*
It is necessary, however, for us to discuss more closely the
matters involved in them, and especially to discriminate the
tactile from the muscular element of the sensations.
Whenever two points produce a double sensation, we may
imagine that one point lies on the area supplied by one dis-
tinct nerve, while the other point lies on the area of a second
nerve. There is a certain stage of subdivision or branching
of the nerves of touch, beyond which the impressions are
fused into one on reaching the cerebrum. How many ultimate
nerve fibres are contained in each unit nerve, we cannot
pretend to guess; but on the skin of the back, the middle of
* The following are a selection from Weber’s measurements. The
intervals are expressed in lines, a line being the twelfth part of an inch.
The range according to Weber is from the twenty-fourth of an inch, in the
tip of the tongue, to two and a-half inches. The range stated in the text is
somewhat greater, being founded probably on a comparison of the extreme
observations of different observers :—
Tip of the tongue, .. = be, oe a { Mk e Faia
Tip of the forefinger, palmar surface, is 1 a
Red surface of under lip, .. ae ‘ a gs 2 4
Second joint of the fingers, palmar murbioe! 2 2.
Last joint of the fingers, back or dorsal surface, .. 3 +
Tip of the nose, Ae he me de a 3 te
Middle of the back of the nse) is rs me Be 4 pe
End of the great toe, es ay aie in +< 5 =
Palm of the hand, .. oe oe 5) 3
Cheek, over the buccinator, en ve ae ie 5 be
Lower part of the forehead,.. Xe as oe ve 10 i
Back of the hand, .. ne a - vs .- 14 a
Crown of the head, .. as he ate ve emule .
Thigh, by the knee, .. i ve ee eyied ae ‘
Upper and lower extremities of the jbee ot ee wep ko o
Breast, ve oe - “s oe ee ca et ¢
Back of neck near occiput, .. - 24 ‘
Middle of fore-arm, middle of thigh, mdale of ‘the bok
of the neck, middle of the back, be Set
If the points are placed within the limit of ‘doubladee and Pedtally
separated, the interval that gives doubleness is greater than in the reverse
process.
176 SENSE OF TOUCH.
the thigh, and the middle of the -fore-arm, an area of three
inches diameter, or between six and seven square inches, is
supplied by the filaments of a single unit. On the point of
the finger, the units are so multiplied, that each supplies no
more than a space whose diameter is the tenth of an inch.
Such units would correspond to the entire body of the olfac-
tory or gustatory nerve, for these nerves gives but one undi-
vided impression for the whole area affected; or at most
would give two impressions, one for each side.
It is important to observe that the primitive suscepti-
bility to a plurality of distinct points, does not enable us to
judge what the real distance of the points is; nor can we
tell previous to experience whereabouts on the body the im-
pression is made. Hence in those of the experiments that
relate to our sense of the relative interval of the points, as
when they pass from a duller to a more sensitive region,
there are involved perceptions that we have got at in some
other way than through the sense of contact. This other
means is the feeling of movement or the muscular sensibility,
without which it is impossible to comprehend fully the sen-
sations of Touch.
11. (2.) Sensations of Pressure—When a contact passes
from the soft touch to a certain amount of energy of com-
pression, the character of the sensation is entirely changed.
It becomes indifferent as regards pleasure and pain, unless
the pressure is on the verge of injuring the parts, when it
becomes painful. The nerves of touch are of course affected,
but probably not they alone. The compression may extend
its influence to the nerves in the deep seated parts, that is,
to fibres supplied to muscles, &c.
If the compressed limb is unsupported, its muscles re-act
and give the feeling of resistance. If it is supported, as when
the hand lies on the table, the effect is one of pressure solely,
whether the nerves stimulated are those of the skin alone or
of the skin and the interior tissues combined. ‘The sense of
pressure is found to have a certain power of discrimination,
applicable to determine degrees of weight, hardness, elasticity,
PRESSURE, LV7
and other properties. The most sensitive parts, as the tips of
the fingers, can distinguish 20 oz. from 19:2 oz.; the forearm
distinguishes 20 oz. from 18°7 oz. The interval of time affects
the discrimination, as we might suppose. The difference
between 14, or even 14°5, could be distinguished from 15,
within 30 seconds ; 4 and o could be distinguished within 90
seconds.
The discrimination of pressure does not increase propor-
tionably with the supply of tactile nerves.
12. (IV.) Sensations of Touch involving muscular percep-
tcons.—In discussing these, we shall begin with examples that
are almost purely muscular, the tactile sensibility being a mere
incident of the situation. The feeling of weight is of this
description ; depending on the sense of muscular exertion,
although capable also of being estimated to some extent by
the feeling of compression of the skin. On this last point, I
add some further illustrations from Messrs. Todd and Bowman.
‘Weber performed experiments to ascertain how far we are
capable of judging of weight by the mere sense of contact
[without muscularity]. He found that when two equal
weights, every way similar, are placed on corresponding parts
of the skin, we may add to, or subtract from one of them a
certain quantity without the person being able to appreciate
the change; and that when the parts bearing the weights, as
the hands, are inactively resting upon a table, a much greater
alteration may be made in the relative amount of the weights
without his perceiving it, than when the same parts are
allowed free motion. For example, 32 ounces may thus be
altered by from 8 to 12, when the hand is motionless and
supported ; but only by from 14 to 4, when the muscles are in
action ; and this difference is in spite of the greater surface
affected (by the counter pressure against the support) in the
former than in the latter case. Weber infers that the
measure of weight by the mere touch of the skin is more
than doubled by the play of the muscles. We. believe this
estimate to be rather under than over the mark.’—p. 431.
That the discriminating sensibility of the skin to degrees
12
178 SENSE OF TOUCH.
of compression may operate in appreciating weight is further
confirmed by the following statement. ‘The relative power
of different parts to estimate weight corresponds very nearly
with their relative capacities of touch. Weber discovered
that the lips are better estimators of weight than any other
part, as we might have anticipated by their delicate sense of
touch and their extreme mobility. The fingers and toes are
also very delicate instruments of this description. The
palms and soles possess this power in a very remarkable
degree, especially over the heads of the metacarpal and
metatarsal bones ; while the back, occiput, thorax, abdomen,
shoulders, arms, and legs, have very little capacity of esti-
mating weight.’—2. p. 432.
What is said of weight apples to any other form of pres-
sure, force, or resistance. The impetus of a push or a squeeze
received on the hand is measured by the muscular exertion
induced to meet it, and in some small degree, as above
described, by the compression of the skin and other parts at
the place of contact.
It must not be supposed that we could derive our original
feeling of RESISTANCE, with its reference to the object world,
by mere tactile sensibility through pressure. The sense of
resistance is primarily ‘the feeling of expended energy.
When the notion is once formed, we can remark that the
degrees of resistance coincide with degrees of the tactile
sensibility to pressure; and hence the passive feeling can
suggest the active, and become a criterion of its amount.
The qualities of hardness and softness are appreciated by
this combined sensibility ; the one means a greater resistance
to compression, and the other a less. From the unyielding
stone or metal to the mobility of the liquid state, we have all
degrees of this property ; the entire class of soft, viscous, and
fibrous substances lying between. It belongs to many of the
manual arts to appreciate minute differences of consistence in
the class of soft bodies; the pastry-cook, the builder, the
sculptor, &c. In this they are assisted by practice, which
improves all sensibilities: but there are great varieties of
LS
ROUGHNESS AND SMOOTHNESS. 179
natural endowment in the case, which varieties must have
their seat principally in the muscular tissue, and only secon-
darily in the skin and nerves of the hand.
The feeling of elasticity is only a case of ‘simple resistance
to force, exerted in the particular circumstance of a rebound
or increasing reaction from pressure. The elasticity implies
a perfect return to the original position ; air is elastic, and so
is steel and ivory, meaning that when in any way compressed
or distorted, they recover themselves.
We may next consider the sensations rising out of the
qualities of roughness and smoothness. Simple contact, we
have seen, gives the sense of a multiplicity of points. The
finger resting on the end of a brush would make us aware of
its character; that is, we should have the feeling of a
plurality of pricks. In this way, we are sensitive to rough
and pointed surfaces. We can distinguish between bluntly-
pointed asperities, like a file, and sharp points, like a horse-
comb : the sensibility of a blunt point being distinct from a
needle-prick. We can also distinguish between thick-set
points and such as are more scattered, provided they are not
too close for the limits of sensibility of the part, that is to
say, one-twelfth of an inch for the finger, and one twenty-
fourth to one-thirtieth for the tip of the tongue. On the
back, the calf of the leg, and the middle of the fore-arm, where
points are confounded up to the distance of two and a half to
three inches, roughness would be altogether imperceptible.
In these instances, the thing touched is supposed to lie at
rest on the finger, or on the part touched. But this does not
do full justice to the tactile sensibility ; we should move the
finger to and fro over the surface, in order to try to the utmost
the power of discrimination. We may thus discriminate far
nicer shades of roughness ; we may appreciate minuter in-
tervals than in the resting position. Supposing the sensibility
of the tip of the finger at rest to be one line, by motion we
can extend this sensibility to an unknown limit. The case
may be illustrated by the micrometer screw on an astronomical
instrument. The divisions on the limb of the instrument
180 SENSE OF TOUCH.
extend, we may suppose, to one minute of a degree, and wf
the index lie between two divisions, its place can be measured
by the number of turns of the screw required to bring it up
to one of the divisions. So, if a point is undistinguished on
the finger, in consequence of not being a line removed from
the neighbouring point, we may estimate ils distance, never-
theless, by the amount of motion of the finger needed to
bring it into the limit of sensibility. I will take as an
example a row of five points, one-fortieth of an inch apart, the
extremes being one-tenth, which is the sensibility of the tip
of the finger. This row would be felt as two points if the
finger were stationary. But by the motion of the finger one
point would pass away and another would come up, and there
would be a feeling of the interval moved over between the
perception of the successive points, which would be a measure
of the intervals. The sense of movement would thus be
brought in to aid the tactile feeling, and to reveal a degree of
closeness in asperities beyond the reach of touch unassisted
by motion. It is consistent with all experience, that the
roughness of a surface becomes far more apparent by drawing
the hand over it. We must, however, farther consider that
friction creates a new variety of pressure on the skin and
nerves ; and the kind of friction is so different for a smooth
and for a rough body, that by it alone we might learn to
distinguish between the rough and the smooth contact.
If any one will make the experiment of drawing over the
finger two points, so close that to the touch they seem one
when at rest, it will be found that the motion gives the feeling
of doubleness. Whatis the limit of this (for a limit there is)
it would take a considerable amount of observation to decide.
I venture to affirm that at least half the interval will become
sensible by the motion of the points, the motion being by
bringing them in train, and not abreast of one another.
Whatever may be the explanation of the increase of
sensibility due to movement, the fact is an important one. A
large amount of discrimination turns upon it. From the
variety of trace made by different kinds of surface, we can
TACTILE DELICACY. 181
distinguish them or identify them at pleasure, up to a con-
siderable limit of delicacy. Hence the power of telling
substances by the touch, and of deciding on the qualities and
merits of texture and of workmanship. Degrees of polish in
stone, metal, or wood, the fineness of cloths, wool, &c., the
beat of a pulse, the quality of powdered substances, and many
things besides, are matters of judgment and comparison to the
touch, and put to the proof its natural or acquired delicacy.
These tactile sensations whereby surfaces are discrimi-
nated, have a great degree of persistence in the recollection ;
something intermediate between tastes or smells, and sights.
We do not revel in them as imagery, it is true, but this would
be accounted for by the superior hold that we have of the
very same objects by means of sight. With the blind, the
case is different ; to them the outer world must be represented
as outspread matters of contact ; their visions of the surfaces
of all things are visions of touch.
Our permanent impressions of touch serve us for com-
paring present surfaces with remembered ones, and for
identifying or distinguishing, the successive objects that
come before the view. The cloth dealer sees whether a
given specimen corresponds with another piece that passed
through his hands a week ago, or with a permanent standard
impressed upon his finger sensibility.
13. Qualities of Extension, Size, Form, &e.—I have endea-
voured to show in the previous chapter, that these qualities
are impressed upon us by the movements they cause, and
that the feelings they produce are feelings of movement or
muscularity. It is now to be seen how far the sense of
Touch proper enters into our notions of the fundamental
property of the object world, namely Extension, of which
Distance, Direction, Position, and Form are only special
modes or applications.
When we examine closely the sensibilities obtained by
movement alone, as by passing the arm to and fro in empty
space, we find that these have various shortcomings as
regards the idea of extended matter, or extended space.
182 SENSE OF TOUCH.
In the first place, the absence of some definite marks,
to indicate the commencement and the termination of a
muscular sweep, leaves a certain vagueness in our feeling of
mere movement. The feelings of putting forth power, and
of this power taking the form of movement as distinct
from dead strain, are present in all cases; but the mind is
more alive to them when some definite impression marks
where we begin and where we cease. Now, the sense of
touch supplies this impression, and furnishes, as it were, a
call to attention. Let us suppose the hand moving between
two fixed obstacles, for example, from one side of a box to
another. There is, to commence with, the contact with one
side of the box felt more or less as a sense of touch, pressure,
and resistance (a feeling partly muscular, but this need not
be considered) ; the abrupt departure from this state is a
mark in consciousness, a call to attention; and the mind is
awakened to the feeling of movement that follows. After a
time, the other side is struck, and the mind is again roused,
and takes note of the cessation of the movement. The
antithesis of resisting matter and unresisted movement is
well brought out by such an experience; there is in it
something more than the contrast of the swing of a limb
with its undisturbed quiescence, which is all that movement
in vacuo can give us.
In the next place, when the hand is moved over a surface,
touching it the while, the feeling of continuance of movement
is accompanied by a feeling of continuance of tactile sensa-
tion, making the consciousness more marked and acute, and
so enabling us to estimate the degree of continuance more
nicely. A feeling of the subject (touch proper) is superadded
to the great object sensibility (expended energy as movement),
and deepens the impress of that sensibility, without being
able to take its place, or to constitute the feeling of objectivity.
The peculiar tactile sensation that friction causes, is thus a
means of suggesting extension and of estimating it, although
incompetent to supply the notion itself.
In the third place, movement im vacuo seems unable to
(O-EXISTENCE AND SUCCESSION. 183
indicate that distinction between Succession and Co-existence
—Time and Space—which must be arrived at before we can
say that we recognize Extension. The continuance of move-
ment is a fact that we are conscious of; in other words, we
are conscious of a peculiar mode of the putting forth of
energy which varies in degree, and we remark one movement
as different from another on this point. But if any property
of things is indicated by this, it would seem to be not space,
but time. In truth, neither is known, for they are a corre-
lative couple, not known at all till they are known together.
Now, we are able to show, how the embodying of our
movements in sensation enables us to distinguish between
the two facts or properties, called the Co-existing and the
Successive.
When, with the hand, we grasp something moving, and
move with it, we have a sensation of one unchanged contact
and pressure, and the sensation is imbedded in a movement.
This is one experience. When we move the hand over a
fixed surface, we have, with the feelings of movement, a
succession of feelings of touch ; if the surface is a variable
one, the sensations are constantly changing, so that we can
be under no mistake as to our passing through a series of
tactile impressions. This is another experience, and differs
from the first, not in the sense of power, but in the tactile
accompaniment. The difference, however, is of vital im-
portance. In the one case, we have an object moving, and
measuring ¢¢me or continuance ; in the other case, we have
co-existence in space. The co-existence is still farther made
apparent by our reversing the movement, and thereby en-
countering the tactile series in the inverse order. Moreover,
the serial order is unchanged by the rapidity of our own
movements. A more rapid pass of the hand makes the series
come up quicker; a less rapid, brings the same series in
more slowly. By these experiences, we gradually become
aware of a wide distinction between identical movements
conducted under such different circumstances ; and the dis-
tinction is expressed in language, as succession and co-
184. SENSE OF TOUCH.
existence—time and space. Succession is the simplest fact ;
an unvarying contact accompanied with a movement, is
enough for that. But co-existence is highly complex. The
chief points involved in it are those now mentioned,—a series
of contacts, and the inversion of the series by an inverted
movement. The repetition of these, with the same mental
effects, constitutes that notion of permanence, or of fixity of
arrangements, implied in the object world, the universe as
co-existing in Space.*
By drawing the hand over a surface, as, for example,
twelve inches of wire, we have an impression of the quality of
the surface, and also of its length. On transferring the hand
to another wire thirty-six inches long, the increased sweep
necessary to reach the extremity, is the feeling and the
measure of the increased extent. By practising the arm
upon this last wire, we should at last have a fixed impression
of the sweep necessary for a yard of length, so that we could
say of any extended thing, whether it was within or beyond
this standard. Nay more, whenever anything brought up a
yard to our recollection, the material of the recollection would
be an arm impression, just as the material of the recollection
of greenness is a visual impression.
If we pass from length to two dimensions, as, for example,
the surface of a pane of glass, we have only a greater com-
plexity of movement and of the corresponding impression.
Moving in one direction we get the length ; in the cross direc-
* Mr. Herbert Spencer has analyzed the relation of co-existence and
sequence with great clearness and felicity. He remarks:—‘ It is the peculiarity
alike of every tactual and visual series which enters into the genesis of these
ideas, that not only does it admit of being transformed into a composite state,
in which the successive positions become simultaneous positions, but it admits
of being reversed. The chain of states of consciousness, A to Z, produced
by the motion of a limb, or of something over the skin, or of the eye along
the outline of an object, may with equal facility be gone through from Z to
A. Unlike those states of consciousness constituting our perception of
sequence, which do not admit of an unresisted change in their order, those
which constitute our perception of co-existence admit of their order being
inverted—occur as readily in one direction as the other.’—Principles of
Psychology, p. 304.
SOLID DIMENSIONS. 185
tion, we bring other muscles into play, and get an impression
of movement on a different portion of the moving system.
In this way we should have the impression of a right angele,
or a builder’s square. The full impression of the pane of
glass would arise through movements from side to side over
its whole length, or from movements round the edge and
several times across, such as to leave behind the feeling of a
possibility of finding contact anywhere within certain limits
of length and breadth. In this embodiment, and in no other
that I know of, would an extended surface be conceived by
the mind through muscularity and touch. (The action of
vision will be afterwards discussed.)
A cubical block, exemplifying all the three dimensions of
solidity, presents nothing radically new. A new direction is
given to the hand, and a new class of muscles are brought to
contribute to the feeling. The movement must now be over
the length, over the breadth, and over,the thickness, and the
resulting impression will be a complication of the three move-
ments. To get a hold of the entire solidity, it is necessary to
embrace all the surfaces one after another, which makes the
operation longer, and the notion more complex and more
difficult to retain. But the resulting impression, fixed by
being repeated, is of the same essential nature as the notion
of a line or a superficies ; it is the possibility, the potentiality,
of finding surface in three different directions within given
limits. A cubical block of one foot in the side means that,
commencing at an angle, and going along one edge, a foot
range may be gone over before the material ceases ; that the
same may then be done across, and also downwards ; and
that, between every two edges, there is an extended resisting
surface.
The multiplying of points of contact, by our having a
plurality of fingers, very much shortens the process of
acquiring notions of surface and solidity. In fact, we can, by
means of this plurality, come to measure a length without any
movement; the degree of separation of the fingers, made
sensible by the tension of their muscles, being enough.
Sgt gece
186 SENSE OF TOUCH.
Thus I can appreciate a distance of six or eight inches by
stretching the thumb away from the fingers, as in the span
of the hand. By keeping the fingers expanded in this way
so as to embrace the breadth of an object, and then drawing
the hand along the length, I can appreciate a surface by a
single motion combined with this fixed span of the thumb
and fingers. J may go even farther; by bringing the
flexibility of the thumb into action, I can keep the fingers
on one surface and move the thumb over another side, so as
to have a single impression corresponding to solidity, or to
three dimensions. We are, therefore, not confined to one
form of acquiring the notion, or to one way of embodying it
in the recollection ; we have many forms, which we come to
know are equivalent and convertible, so that where we find
one, we can expect another. But the most perfect combination
of perceiving organs is the embrace of the two hands. The
concurrence of the impressions flowing from the two sides of
the body, produces a remarkably strong impression of the
solidity of a solid object. The two separate, and yet coincid-
ing, images support one another, and fuse together in such a
way as make the most vivid notion of solidity that we are
able to acquire by means of touch. The parallel case of the
two eyes is equally striking.
The notion of solidity thus acquired is complex, being
obtained through a union of touch and muscularity, and
combining perception of surface with perception of extended
form. Space, or unoccupied extension, is movement in vacuo,
from one fixed point to another; by the inverted operation,
and by repetition giving the same contacts, this is considered
to mean extension (as opposed to mere sequence in time).
Empty space means the power of movement without contact
or resistance, except at the extreme terms. Resistance and
empty space are correlatives. In passing from the sense of
the resisting to unresisted movement, we make the transition
that developes the two cognitions of Body and of Space,
under the common cbject property of Extension.
14, Distance, direction, and situation, when estimated thy
DISTANCE.—DIRECTION.—SITUATION. 187
touch, involve, in the very same manner, the active organs ;
the tactile sensations merely furnishing marks and starting-
points, like the arrows between the chain-lengths in land-
measuring. Dzstance implies two fixed points, which the
touch can ascertain and identify ; the actual measurement is
by means of the sweep of the hand, arm, or body, from the
one to the other. Durection implies a standard of reference ;
some given movement must fix a standard direction, and
movement, to or from that, will ascertain any other. Our
own body is the most natural starting point in counting
direction ; from it we measure right and left, back and fore.
For the up and down direction we have a very impressive
lead, this being the direction of gravity. When we support
a weight we are drawn downward ; when not sustaining the
arms by voluntary effort, they sink downward ; when our
support gives way, the whole body moves downward. Hence
we soon gain an impression of the downward movement, and
learn to recognize and distinguish this from all others. If a
blind man is groping at a pillar, he identifies the direction it
gives to his hand, as the falling or the rising direction.
Circumstances do not, perhaps, so strongly conspire to
impress the standard directions of right and left, but there is
an abundant facility in acquiring them too. The right
deltoid muscle is the one chiefly concerned in drawing the
right arm up and away from the body, and without our
knowing anything about this muscle, we yet come to asso-
ciate the feeling of its contraction with a movement away
from the body to the right. All directions that call forth
the play of the same muscles, are similar directions as respects
the body ; different muscles mean different directions. ‘The
great pectoral bringing the arm forward, the deltoid lifting it
away from the side, the trapezius drawing it backward, indicate
to our mind so many different positions of the guiding object ;
and we do not confound any one with the others. We learn
to follow the lead of each of these indications; we make
a forward step to succeed the contraction of the pectoral, a
step to the right the deltoid, a step backward the trapezius.
188 SENSE OF TOUCH.
Situation, or relative position, is known, if distance and
direction are known. The idea of position implies three
points. Two points might give extension, but relative
position implies that we pass from A to B, from B to ©, and
from A to C. Such movements often repeated, both in the
direct and in the inverse order, impart the idea of permanent
co-existence in relative position, which amounts to an expe-
rience of Extension. The multiplication of these is the
enlargement of our education in the co-existing and extended,
from which at last, by an exercise of abstraction, we rise to
the notion of Space or Extension in general.
Form or shape is determined by position. It depends
upon the course given to the movements in following the
outline of a material body. Thus we acquire a movement
corresponding to a straight line, to a ring, an oval, &c. This
is purely muscular. The fixed impressions engrained upon
the organs, in correspondence with these forms, have a
higher interest than mere discrimination. We are called
upon to reproduce them in many operations—in writing,
drawing, modelling, &e.; and the facility of doing so will
depend, in great part, upon the hold that they have taken
upon the muscular and nervous mechanism. The suscepti-
bility and the retentiveness of impressions necessary to draw
or to engrave skilfully, are principally muscular endowments.
15. So much for the qualities revealed to us by touch,
either alone or in conjunction with movement. The accom-
paniment of activity belongs to every one of the senses; it
serves to bring about, or increase, the contact with the
objects of the sense. There is in connexion with each of
the senses, a particular verb, or designation, implying action ;
to taste implies the movement for bringing the substance
upon the tongue; to smell, or to snuff, means an active
inhalation of the odorous stream ; to feel signifies the move-
ment of the hand or other organ over the surface in search of
impressions ; in like manner, to hear and to see are forms of
activity. In the cases of taste and smell, the action does not
contribute much to the sensation or the knowledge; in the
IMPROVEMENT OF TOUCH. 189
three others (two especially) it is a material element, since in
all of them, direction and distance are essential parts of the
information. Now, since movement is required to bring
objects within reach, the value of any of our senses will
depend very greatly upon the activity of the organs that
carry the sensitive surface, the tentacula, so to speak. This
activity grows out of the muscular and nervous energy of
the frame, and not out of the particular endowment of the
sensitive part. It is a voluntary exertion, at first spon-
taneous purely, always spontaneous in some degree, but
linked to, and guided by, the sensibility. The flush of
activity lodged in the arm and fingers is the first inspiration
towards obtaining impressions of touch; the liking or dis-
liking for the impressions themselves, come in to modify and
control the central energy, and to reduce handling to a system.
16. Touch being concerned in innumerable handicraft
operations, the improvement of it, as a sense, enters largely
into our useful acquisitions. The graduated application of
the force of the hand has to be ruled by touch; as in the
potter with his clay, the turner at his lathe, the polisher of
stone, wood, or metal, the drawing of the stitch in sewing,
baking, taking up measured quantities of material in the hand.
In playing on finger instruments—the piano, guitar, organ,
&¢c.—the touch must measure the stroke or pressure that will
yield a given effect on the ear.
17. The observations made on persons born blind have
furnished a means of judging how far touch can substitute
sight, both in mechanical and in intellectual operations.
These observations have shown, that there is nothing essential
to the highest intellectual processes of science and thought,
that may not be attained in the absence of sight. The
integrity of the moving apparatus of the frame renders it
possible to acquire the fundamental notions of space, magni-
tude, figure, force, and movement, and through these to com-
prehend the great leading facts of creation as taught in
mathematical, mechanical, or physical science.
18. The skin is lable to feelings not produced by an
190 SENSE OF HEARING.
external contact, but resembling what would arise from
particular agencies, and suggesting those agencies to the mind.
These are called ‘subjective sensations. The tingling of a
limb asleep, formication—or a sensation as of the creeping of
insects, heat, chilliness, &c., are examples.—(ToDD and Bow-
MAN, I. 433.)
SENSE OF HEARING.
This sense is more special and local than the foregoing,
but agrees with Touch in being a mechanical sense as dis-
tinguished from the chemical senses—Taste and Smell.
1. The objects of hearing are material bodies in a state of
tremor, or vibration, brought on when they are struck, which
vibration is communicated to the air of the atmosphere, and
is thereby propagated till it reach the hollow of the ear.
All bodies whatever are liable to the state of sonorous
vibration ; but they differ very much in the degree and kind
of it. The metals are the most powerful sources of sounds,
as we see in bells; after these come woods, stones, earthy
bodies. A hard and elastic texture is the property needed.
Liquids and gases sound very little, unless impinged by solids.
The howling and rustling of the wind arise from its playing
upon the earth’s surface, like the Atolian harp. The thunder
is an example of a pure aerial sound ; the effect, great as it is,
being very small in comparison to the mass of air put in
agitation.
It belongs to the science of Acoustics to explain the pro-
duction and propagation of sound, and the forms of sounding
instruments of all kinds. Here we are considering the effects,
and not the instruments of sound. Even the human voice,
whose description cannot be omitted in a treatise on mind,
will come in under another head.
2. The organ is the Ear. ‘It is divisible into three parts
—the external ear, the tympanum or middle ear, and the
labyrinth or internal ear ; and of these, the two first are to be
considered as accessories or appendages to the third, which is
the sentient portion of the organ.’
THE TYMPANUM. 191
The external ear includes ‘the pinna—the part of the outer
ear which projects from the side of the head—and the meatus or
passage which leads thence to the tympanum, and is closed at its
inner extremity by the membrane interposed between it and the
middle ear (membrana tympani).’
‘The tympanum, or drum, the middle chamber of the ear, is a
narrow irregular cavity in the substance of the temporal bone,
placed between the inner end of the external auditory canal and
the labyrinth. It receives the atmospheric air from the pharynx
through the Hustachian tube, and contains a chain of small bones,
by means of which the vibrations, communicated at the bottom
of the external meatus to the membrana tympani, are conveyed
across the cavity to the internal ear, the sentient part of the organ.
The tympanum contains likewise minute muscles and ligaments
which belong to the bones referred to, as well as some nerves
which end within this cavity, or only pass through it to other
parts.’
As to the cavity of the tympanum, I shall content myself
with quoting the description of the anterior and posterior
boundaries, whereby it connects itself with the outer and
inner portions of the ear, and which are therefore the main
links in the line of communication from without inwards.
The outer boundary, formed by a thin semi-transparent mem-
brane, the membrana tympani, which may be seen by looking into
the ear, ‘is nearly circular, and is slightly concave on the outer
surface. It is inserted into a groove at the end of the passage of
the outer ear, and so obliquely that the membrane inclines towards
the anterior and lower part of the canal at an angle of 45°. The
handle of one of the small bones of the tympanum, the malleus,
descends between the middle and inner layers of the membrane
to a little below its centre, and is firmly fixed to it; and as the
direction of the handle of the bone is slightly inwards, the outer
surface of the membrane is thereby rendered concave.’
The inner wall of the tympanum, which is formed by the outer
surface of the internal ear, is very uneven, presenting several
elevations and foramina. The foramina or openings are two in
number, the oval foramen (fenestra ovalis) and the round or
triangular opening (fenestra rotunda). Both are closed with
membranes, which render the inner ear, with its containing liquid,
192 SENSE OF HEARING.
perfectly tight. To one of them, the oval foramen, a small bone,
is attached, the other, the round foramen, has no attachment.
These two openings are the approaches to the internal ear, and
through them les the course of the sonorous vibrations in their
progress towards the auditory nerve.
The small bones of the tympanum are named from their
appearance as follows (beginning at the outermost): the
malleus, or hammer, attached to the membrane of the tym-
panum ; the incus, or anvil; and the stapes, or stirrup, which
is fixed to the oval opening in the inner ear, called the fenestra
ovalis. ‘The incus is thus intermediate between the other two,
and the result of the whole is, ‘a species of angular and
jointed connecting rod between the outer and inner walls of
the tympanic cavity, which serves to communicate vibrations
from the membrana tympani to the fluid contained in the
vestibule of the internal ear.’
There are certain small muscles attached to those bones
for the regulation of their movements.
The internal ear, or labyrinth, ‘ which is the essential or sensory
part of the organ of hearing, is contained in the petrous portion
of the temporal bone. It is made up of two very different
Fia. 7.*
* ¢ An enlarged view of the labyrinth from the outer side:—1. Vestibule.
2. Fenestra ovalis. 3. Superior semicircular canal. 4. External semicircular
canal. 5. Posterior semicircular canal. 6. First turn of the cochlea. 7.
Second turn. 8. Apex of Cochlea. 9. Fenestra rotunda. * Ampulle of
semicircular canal.—The smaller figure represents the osseous labyrinth of
the natural size.’—(Quatn).
LABYRINTH OF THE EAR. 193
structures, known respectively as the osseous and membranous
labyrinth.’
‘(1.) The osseous labyrinth is lodged in the cancellated struc-
ture of the temporal bone, and presents, when separated from
this,. the appearance shown in the enlarged figure. It is in-
completely divided into three parts, named respectively the
vestibule, the semicircular canals, and the cochlea. They are
lined throughout by a thin serous membrane, which secretes a
clear fluid.
‘(2.) The membranous labyrinth is contained within the bony
labyrinth, and, being smaller than it, a space intervenes between
the two, which is occupied with the clear fluid just referred to.
This structure supports the numerous minute ramifications of the
auditory nerve, and encloses a liquid secretion.’
The minute anatomy of these parts I must pass over.
The vestibule is the central chamber of the mass, and is the
portion of the labyrinth turned towards the tympanum, and
containing the cavities of communication above described.
The semicircular canals are three bony tubes, situated above
and behind the vestibule, into which they open by five
apertures ; each tube being bent so as to form the greater
part of a circle. The cochlea is a blunt cone, having its
surface ‘marked by a spiral groove, which gives to this part
of the labyrinth somewhat of the appearance of.a spiral shell
—whence its name. Its interior is a spiral canal divided
into two by a thin partition, deficient at the apex of the
cochlea. ‘The canal opens freely into the cavity of the
vestibule.
‘Within the osseous labyrinth, and separated from its lining
membrane by a liquid secretion, is a membranous structure,
which serves to support the ultimate ramifications of the audi-
tory nerve. In the vestibule and semicircular canals, this
membrane has the form of a rather complex sac, and encloses a
fluid called the endolymph ; in the cochlea, the analogous struc-
ture merely completes the lamina spiralis (the partition of the
cochlea), and is covered by the membrane which lines the
general cavity of the osseous labyrinth.’
The labyrinth is thus to be considered as a complicated
13
194 SENSE OF HEARING.
chamber full of liquid, and containing also a membranous
expansion for the distribution of the nerve of hearing. Let
us next advert to the action of these different parts in pro-
ducing the sensations of sound.
3. The waves of sound enter the passage of the outer ear,
and strike the membrane of the tympanum. The structure
of the outer ear is adapted to collect and concentrate the
vibrations like an ear-trumpet. The form of the shell gives
it a reflecting surface for directing the sound inwards; while
the passage is believed to increase their intensity by reson-
ance. Reaching the membrane of the tympanum, the beats
communicate themselves to its surface and set it vibrating,
which is done all the more easily that the membrane is very
thin and light in its structure. Experiments have shown,
that the only means of receiving with effect the vibrations
of the air, is to provide a thin stretched membrane of this
nature. ‘The vibrations of the membrane are communicated
to the chain of small bones traversing the middle ear, and
connected through the oval foramen with the enclosed liquid
of the inner ear. By these means a series of beats are
imparted to the liquid, which diffuse themselves in waves
all through the passages of the labyrinth, and operate by
compressing the membranous labyrinth, and through it the
imbedded fibres of the auditory nerve, which compres-
sions are the immediate antecedent of the sensation of
hearing. The character of the sensation will of course
vary with the character of the waves, according as they
are violent or feeble, quick or slow, simple or complex, and
so forth.
There is little difference of opinion as to the general
course of the action now described. The transitions have all
been imitated by experiments, and it has been found that the
arrangement is a good one for bringing about the ultimate
effect, namely, the gentle compression of the filaments of the
nerve of hearing. No other medium could serve the final
contact so well as a liquid, but in order to impress the liquid
itself, an intermediate apparatus between it and the air is
MUSCLES OF THE EAR. 195
requisite. This intermediate apparatus is solid, and com-
posed of two parts, the first a light expanded membrane,
susceptible to the beats of the air, the second firm and
compact (the chain of bones), to produce a sufficiently
powerful undulation in the liquid) The membrane once
affected is able to communicate vibrations to the bones; and
the last of the chain, the stapes, is able to impress the
labyrinthine fluid. So far the process has been rendered
sutticiently intelligible.
The separate functions of the different parts of the inner
ear are not understood. In the cochlea (the most important
part), the membrane wherein the nerve is spread takes on
peculiar tooth-shaped forms, and also contains elastic films or
lamine. The length of each lamina is about 7$5 of an inch,
and their thickness 73455 of an inch. The lamine lie upon
the ends of the tooth-shaped forms, and are arranged like the
keys of a piano, and closely packed together. Wundt believes
that different tones affect different parts of the nerve of
hearing thus disposed, and that as elastic bodies respond
each to some particular tone, and remain quiet when other
tones are sounded, so these elaastic laminz are divided into
sroups for separate notes, and excite the connected nerve
fibres accordingly.
There are three muscles in the interior of the tympanum
attached to the small bones. The largest, called tensor
tympani, is inserted in the malleus, and its direction is such
as to draw inwards, and tighten the membrane of the tym-
panum. The second, laxator tympani, also inserted in the
malleus, is supposed to have the action indicated by the
name, but its muscular character has been doubted: the
membrane of the tympanum would relax by mere elas-
ticity, when the action of the tensor muscle is remitted.
The third muscle is the stapedius, attached to the stapes, and
seeming to govern the contact of that bone with the mem-
brane of the oval foramen: the tensor tympani concurring
with it to tighten the membrane.
It has not been well ascertained on what occasions and
196 SENSE OF HEARING.
with what effect the tensor tympani is brought into play.
The only distinct observation on the matter is that made by
Wollaston, namely, that when the membrane of the tym-
panum is stretched, the ear is rendered less sensible to grave
sounds, such as the deep notes of the organ, or the sounds of
thunder and ¢annon. If, therefore, the ear is exposed to
very intense sounds of the deep kind, such as the firing of
artillery, the tensor tympani coming into play would in some
measure deaden the effect. The action would make little or
no difference to the hearing of acute sounds, such as the
sharp notes of a call-whistle. Probably these muscles are
excited by the reflex action of the sounds; possibly, also,
they may be of the voluntary class, that is, they may come
into play in the voluntary acts of listening and of preparing
the ear to resist loud sounds. The only circumstance assign-
able as determining the reflex action of the tensor tympani is
simply the intensity of the sound. We may suppose that
every sound whatever brings on a reflex action to stretch the
membrane, and the stronger the sound the greater the action.
When sounds are too loud, and of the grave kind, this
tension mitigates them; when too loud and acute, it either
has no effect, or makes the evil worse.
‘Dr. Wollaston performed many experiments upon the
effects of tension of the membrana tympani, and he found
that deafness to grave notes was always induced, which, as
most ordinary sounds are of a low pitch, is tantamount to a
general deafness. Shrill sounds, however, are best heard
when the tympanic membrane is tense. Miiller remarks,
and we have frequently made the same observation, that the
dull rumbling sound of carriages passing over a bridge, or of
the firing of cannon, or of the beating of drums at a distance,
ceases to be heard immediately on the membrana tympani
becoming tense; while the treading of horses upon stone
pavement, the more shrill creaking of carriages, and the
rattling of paper, may be distinctly heard’—Topp and
Bowman, vol. II., p. 95.
4, Passing now to Sounds considered as sensations, we
SWEET SOUNDS. 197
may distinguish these into three classes ; the first comprises
the general effects of sound as determined by Quality,
Intensity, and Volume or Quantity, to which all ears are
sensitive. The second class includes Musical sounds, for
which a susceptibility to Pitch is requisite. Lastly, there
is the sensibility to the Articulateness, Distance, and
Direction of sounds, which are the more intellectual pro-
perties.
5. Sweetness—Under the head of Quality, the terms
sweet, rich, mellow, are applied to the pleasing effects of
simple sounds. Instruments and voices are distinguished by
the sweetness of their individual tones; there is something
in the material and mechanism of an instrument that gives a
sweet and rich effect, apart altogether from the music of the
airs performed upon it. Other instruments and sounds have
a grating, harsh, unpleasant tone, like bitterness in taste, or a
stink in the nostrils. Some substances, by their texture, have
a greater sweetness of note than others. Thus silver is dis-
tinguished among the metals; and glass is also remarkable
for rich, mellow tones.
The researches of Helmholtz and others seem to establish the
fact that the differences of sounds as regards Sweetness (with its
opposites), Timbre, and Vowel Quality, are owing to the combi-
nation of the principal tone of each with a number of over-tones;
which combinations are susceptible of great variety. So strong
is the tendency of sounding bodies to yield these over-tones—a
vibrating string nearly always vibrates in fractions as well as in
its whole length—that pure tones, although experimentally pro-
ducible, are scarcely known to us at all. Tones very nearly pure
arise from wide-stopped organ pipes. The effect of these on the
ear is mellow, but insipid; they are intermediate between the
sweet and the harsh.
According to this view, the sweetness, even of an individual
sound, is a harmony; the ground tone is combined with over-
tones in a pleasing concord. A harsh grating sound is a combi-
nation of dissonant tones. Noise, as opposed to the sweet or the
melodious, is dissonance.
On this theoretical basis, the primary division of sounds would
198 SENSE OF HEARING.
be into Simple sounds, Sweet combinations or concords, and Harsh
combinations or discords. But as simple sounds are practically
non-existent, we may still abide by the three-fold classification in
the text, namely, (1.) Sweetness and Harshness, (2.) Intensity,
and (3.) Volume. The second and third properties, Intensity
and Volume, are important modifications of sound whatever be
the degree of sweetness or of harshness; and they give a
character to such as belong to neither extreme.
The sensation of the sweet in sound I have characterized
as the simple, pure, and proper pleasure of hearing ; a pleasure
of great acuteness but of little massiveness. The acuteness
of it is proportioned to the rank of the ear as a sensitive
organ, or to the susceptibility of the mind to be stirred and
moved through the channel of hearing. There is a great
superiority in the endurableness of sweet sounds over the
sweets of the inferior senses. In Touch the distinction
exists in the comparison with Taste and Smell; in Hearing
there is a farther progress, and we shall have to note the
crowning pitch of this important property when we come to
the sense of Sight. By virtue of this fact we can obtain from
sight and hearing a larger amount of enjoyment within the
same degree of fatigue or exhaustion, or before reaching the
point of satiety. Hence one reason for terming these the
‘higher senses.’
The persistence in the intellect, which governs the ideal
continuance and reproduction of the pleasures and pains of
sound, is of the same high order, and probably grows out of
the same fundamental superiority of the sense.
The opposite of sweetness is described by the epithets
harsh and grating, and is the characteristic pain of hearing,
But in accounting for the extremely painful sounds, we must
not confine ourselves to the fact of dissonance.
6. Intensity, Loudness—Sounds are more or less faint or
loud. A gentle or moderate sound, neither sweet nor harsh,
is agreeable in stillness, simply as a sensation, and under the
conditions wherein stimulation, as such, is pleasurable.
According as the loudness of a sound increases, so does the
INTENSITY OF SOUNDS. 199
stimulation. The effect, at a given point, takes the character
of pungency, like the action of ammonia on the nose, or a
smart stroke on the skin. A loud speaker is exciting. The
rattle of carriages, the jingle of an iron work, the noise of a
cotton mill, the ringing of bells close to the ear, the discharge
of musketry and ordnance, are all exciting from their in-
tensity ; to fresh and vigorous nerves plunged into them after
quietness, these noises give pleasure. ‘They may be described,
however, as a coarse excitement; there is a great cost of tear
and wear of nerve for the actual satisfaction.
The intensity, rising beyond a certain pitch, turns to pain.
The screeching of a parrot-house, the shrill barking of the
smaller species of dogs, the whistling in the fingers practised
by boys in the streets, the screaming of infants, are instances
of painful pungency. The sharping of a saw, and the scratch-
ing of a piece of glass, yield an intense shrill note. In most
of these cases, we must suppose an element of dissonance as
well as a great and smarting intensity. The only criterion of
marked dissonance, as opposed to mere pungency, is the
offence given to the ear under all conditions, and not merely
under fatigue or exhaustion.
The suddenness of sounds, by the abrupt transition, aggra-
vates their intensity on the general principle of Relativity.
If unexpected, they produce the discomposure usually attend-
ing a breach of expectation.
7. Volume or Quantity—This means the sound coming
from a sounding mass of great surface or extent. The waves
of the ‘many sounding sea, the thundery discharge, the
howling winds, are voluminous sounds. A sound echoed
from many sides is voluminous. The shout of a great multi-
tude is impressive fromthe volume. Grave sounds, inasmuch
as they require a larger instrument, are comparatively volu-
minous.
Whether sounds be sweet or indifferent, their multipli-
cation has an agreeable effect on the ear. The sensation is
extended in volume or amount without the waste of nervous
power accompanying great pungency. Both physically and
200 SENSE OF HEARING.
mentally, these sounds conform to the laws of massive sensa-
tion.
If a sound is intrinsically harsh or grating, or if painful
from intensity, the increase in volume will be an increase of
pain; as in machinery. The braying of the ass combines
the harsh and the voluminous.
8. Pitch or Tune—By pitch is meant the acuteness or
graveness of a sound, as determined by the ear, and resolvable
into the rate of vibration of the sounding body, or the
number of vibrations in a given time. The gravest sound
audible to the human ear is (according to Helmholtz) 16
vibrations a second; the highest audible sound corresponds
to 38,000 vibrations a second; being a compass of eleven
octaves. One of the deepest tones in use on orchestra instru-
ments is the E of the double bass, giving 414 vibrations a
second. The highest note of the orchestra (D of the piccolo
flute) is 4752 vibrations. (Helmholtz: Tyndall’s Lectures on
Sound, p. 72). The practical range is thus about seven
octaves. At the upper limit of hearing, persons differ as
much as two octaves; the squeak of the bat and the sound
of a cricket are unheard by some ears.
A sound of uniform pitth is a musical note. In the fact
of uniform continuance, there is a pleasure of the nature of
harmony. It is only such sounds that can be farther com-
bined into musical harmonies.
Although, in music, less intervals than a semitone are not
admitted, the ear can distinguish still smaller differences.
A quarter of a tone makes a marked difference to an ordinary
ear. A good musician can distinguish two tones whose
vibrations are as 1149 to 1145, sounded after each other, and
even a smaller difference if they are sounded together. Two
pitchforks whose number of vibrations per second are 1209
and 1210, sounded simultaneously, can be distinguished by a
first-rate ear.
9. The waxing and waning of sound. The gradual in-
crease or diminution of the loudness of a sound, is one of the
effects introduced into musical composition, owing to the
HARMONY AND DISCORD. 201
power it has to impart additional pleasure. The howling or
moaning of the wind has sometimes this character, and pro-
duces a deep impression upon all minds sensitive to sound.
The dying away of sound is especially noted as touching:
‘that music hath a dying fall’ It may be, that a muscular
feeling enters into this sensation: the gradually increased or
relaxed tension of the muscles of the ear being a probable
accompaniment of the increase or diminution of loudness.
We cannot affirm, however, that it may not be due to the
auditory nerves alone. When the pitch is gradually changed,
as well as the degree, we have a farther modification intro-
duced into musical composition, but apt to degenerate into
the ‘whine’ or ‘sing-song. In the notes of birds, we may
trace this effect; in the execution of accomplished singers,
in the violin and other instruments, and in the cadences of a
musical orator, we may likewise observe it; in all cases
telling powerfully.
10. Harmony and Dzscord.—The concurrence of two or
more sounds may be pleasing or unpleasing, irrespective of
their character individually. The pleasurable concurrence is
called Harmony. It is dependant upon the numerical relation-
ship of the vibrations of the two sounds. Simple ratios, as
1 to 2 (octave), 2 to 3 (fifth), 3 to 4 (fourth), 4 to 5 (major
third), 5 to 6 (minor third), are harmonious in the order
stated. All these are admissible in musical composition, and
are termed chords. The combination 8 to 9 (a single tone) is
a dissonant combination ; 15 to 16 (a semi-tone) is a grating
discord.
It has already been mentioned that an individual sound
whose character is sweetness, is already a harmony, or concord
of many sounds; the main tone being combined with over-
tones. In music, these sounds are still farther combined,
according to the general laws of harmony.
The pleasure of harmony is a wide-spread fact of the
human mind; it extends to sight as well as to hearing, and is
not wanting in the inferior senses ; we may have harmonizing
or discordant tastes. In the higher emotions, a concurrence
202 SENSE OF HEARING.
may be either harmonious or discordant. The foundation of
the pleasure is probably the same throughout; it is a general
principle whereby mental states are regarded as either co-
operating, or conflicting, with each other; in the one case,
economizing nervous power and bringing pleasure; in the
other, wasting power and causing pain.
11. Timbre.-—This means the difference between sounds,
otherwise the same, proceeding from different materials,
instruments, or voices. We recognize a qualitative difference
between the flute and the violin, or between the trumpet and
the clarionet; we can distinguish between one violin and
another, and between different voices sounding the same notes
with the same intensity. These differences are now explained
by the presence of auxiliary upper tones in all instruments ;
which tones vary with the material and the instrument. It
is supposed that perfectly pure tones identical as regards pitch
and intensity, would be undistinguishable, whatever might
be their source.
12. Articulate sounds.—Of articulate sounds, some have a
character so peculiar that our discrimination of them is no
surprise. ‘I'he hissing sound of s, the burring of the 7, the
hum of the m, are well marked modes of producing variety
of effect. We can understand how each should impart a
different kind of shock to the nerve of hearing. So we can
see a reason for distinguishing the abrupt sounds yg, ¢, & from
the continuous or vocal sounds 0, d, and g, and from the same
sounds with the nasal accompaniment m, », ng. It is not
quite so easy to explain the distinction of shock between the
labials, dentals, and gutturals ; still, if we compare p (labial),
with & (guttural), we can suppose that the stroke that gives
the & is harder than the other.
The vowel sounds are explained by the over-tones (octaves)
concurring with each fundamental tone, and varying according
to the resonance of the mouth, the form of which is altered
for each vowel. When the ground tone is heard nearly alone,
the sound has the character of wu (full). Theo has, along with
the ground tone, the next octave audibly combined. The a
ARTICULATE SOUNDS. 203
(ah) is characterized by the marked presence of the very hich
octaves.*
The same principle is applied to explain differences in the
consonant sounds; but as respects these, there are other
palpable distinctions such as we have alluded to above.
Some persons are distinguished by their nice discrimina-
tion of articulate sounds. If the foregoing theory be correct,
a good ear for musical notes should be also a good ear for
articulation, seeing that the articulate sounds involve compo-
site musical tones. An ear for pitch is thus the basis both of
music and of speech. Strictly speaking, however, this applies
to the vowels. The discrimination of consonants may depend
on other qualities of the ear; a circumstance requiring to be
adverted to, seeing that, in point of fact, the good musical ear
is not always a good articulate ear. The sense of Time is
not confined to any organ or any class of feelings ; but it may
attain to great perfection in hearing.
13. The perception of distance can result from nothing
but experience. I quote from Longet. ‘As soon as the
organ presents a sensibility and a development sufficient for
discerning easily the relative intensity of two consecutive
sounds, nothing farther is necessary in order to acquire the
notions of distance and direction of the body from which the
sonorous waves emanate. In fact, if a sound is already
known to us, as in the case of the human voice, or an instru-
ment, we judge of its distance by the feebleness of its im-
pression upon the nerve of hearing ; if the sound is one whose
* The following is Helmholtz’s table for the leading vowel sounds :—
Ground-
Vowel. Tone. 2nd. 8rd. Ath. 5th. Gth. 7th.
u (full) strong — weak — — = me
o (oh) strong strong (weak) (weak) — — —
e(get) strong middling strong (weak) (weak) — —
i (bit) weaker strong (very weak) strong (middling)
a(ah) strong (weak) weak middling stronger stronger stronger
than 3 and 4,
The parentheses denote that the tones they inclose are not absolutely neces-
sary to the making of the special vowel-sound.
204 SENSE OF HEARING.
intensity, at a given distance, is unknown, as, for example,
thunder, we suppose it nearer according as it is louder.’
Weare apt to mix inferential processes with our judgment
of distance. If we are led to imagine that a sound is farther
off than it really is, we seem to hear it stronger than it is.
Awaking suddenly in the night, we hear a faint noise, and
suppose it much louder, our notion of its real distance being
for a few moments vague and confused. It being an effect of
distance that sounds fade away into a feeble hum, when we
encounter a sound whose natural quality is feeble, like the
humming of the bee, we are ready to imagine it more distant
than the reality.
14. Direction—This is a purely intellectual sensation, in
other words, is of importance as leading us to perceive the
situation of the objects of the outer world whence the sound
takes its rise.
The following extract from Longet indicates the kind of
experience that gives us the feeling of direction :—
‘With regard to the direction of the sonorous waves, we
can at present only say, that the knowledge of it is owing to
a process of reasoning applied to the sensation. Thus, we
hear distinctly a sound emanating from a given point, what-
ever be the position of the head; but the ear being able to
judge of slight differences in the intensity of sounds, we
remark that, in certain positions of the head, the sound seems
stronger. We are hence led to place our head in one fixed
position as regards the sounding body. But our sight tells
what is this direction of most perfect hearing ; and we then
apply the observation made on bodies that we can see to
those that are not seen.’
The combined action of the two ears also favours
the perception of direction of sound very materially. A
person that has become deaf on one ear, is usually unable
to say whether a sound is before or behind. The change of
effect produced by a slight rotation of the head, is such as to
indicate direction to the mind. For while the sound becomes
more perceptible on one ear,—the ear turned to face the
DIRECTION OF SOUNDS. 205
object more directly,—the sound in the other ear is to the
same degree obscured. When the head is so placed, after
various trials, that the greatest force of sensation is felt on the
right ear, and the least on the left, we then infer that the
sounding body is away to the right ; when the two effects are
equal, and when any movement of the head makes them
unequal, we judge the sound to be either right in front or
behind ; and we can further discriminate so as to determine
between these two suppositions.*
The sense of direction is by no means very delicate, even
after being educated to the full. We can readily judge
whether a voice be before or behind, right or left, up or
down ; but if we were to stand opposite to a row of persons,
at a distance, say, of ten feet, we should not be able, I
apprehend, to say which one emitted a sound. This confusion
is well known to schoolmasters. So it is next to impossible
to find out a skylark in the air from the sound of its song.
15. The duration of the feeling of an individual beat can
be appreciated by noting at what intervals a succession of
beats seems an uninterrupted stream of sound. This makes,
in fact, the inferior limit of the audibility of sounds. From
the experiments of Helmholtz, it would appear that a series
of beats begins to be felt as continuous when they number
* According to Ed. Weber, in determining the direction of sounds, we
employ the external ear for those coming from above, below, behind, before ;
the tympanum for those coming from left to right. He made the following
experiments :—The head was inserted in water, the air-passage being filled
with air, so that the tympanum was free to vibrate. In that case, the ear
recognized the sounds as external to itself, but could distinguish them only as
right or left in direction. When, farther, the ear itself was filled with water,
and the free action of the tympanum arrested, the sense of externality alto-
gether was lost. The feelings were regarded as subjective. It was observed
by E. H. Weber that the uniting of the double sensation from the two ears
(analogous to binocular vision) has its limits. If two watches with different
rates of ticking are held before one ear, the ear distinguishes the periods when
the strokes of the two fall.together, and forms to itself a rhythm out of the
two series of strokes. If the watches are applied, one to each ear, the sense
of rhythm is lost. The mind can no longer make the combination effected
when the two watches are applied separately to the two ears.
206 SENSE OF SIGHT.
sixteen in a second; so that the impression of each must
continue not less than the sixteenth part of a second.
16. The sudjective sensations of the ear are such as buzzing,
ticking, and humming sounds. They arise from disease of the
brain, or the auditory nerve, obstructions in the tympanum
and Eustachian tube, &c.
SENSE OF SIGHT.
1. The objects of sight include nearly all material bodies.
Their visibility depends on their being acted on by Light,
hitherto the most inscrutable of natural agents. Certain
bodies, as the Sun, the Stars, flame, solids at a high tempera-
ture, give origin to rays of light, and are called self-luminous.
Other bodies, as the Moon, the Planets, and the greater
number of terrestrial surfaces, are visible only by reflecting
the rays they receive from the self-luminous class.
The reflexion of light is of two sorts: mirror reflexion,
which merely reveals the body that the light comes from ; and
reflexion of visibility, which pictures the reflecting surface.
In this last mode of reflexion, the light is broken up and
emitted in all directions exactly as from a self-luminous
original. Visible surfaces receiving light from the sun have
thus the power of absorbing and re-issuing it, while a mirror
simply gives a new direction to the rays. When we look at
a picture in a bad light, we find that the rays of reflexion
overpower the rays arising from the coloured surface of the
picture ; consequently the picture is imperfectly seen.
As regards vision, bodies are either opaque or transparent,
There is a scale of degrees from the most perfect opacity, as
in a piece of clay, to the most perfect transparency, as in air.
According as bodies become transparent, they cease to be
visible.
The transparency of Air is not absolutely perfect ; that is
to say, light in passing through the atmosphere is to a certain
small extent arrested, and a portion reflected, so as to make
the mass faintly visible to the eye. When we look up into
TRANSPARENT AND OPAQUE BODIES. 207
the sky through a cloudless atmosphere, all the illumination
received beyond the sun’s disc is light reflected by the atmos-
phere itself. Liquids are still less transparent ; although they
transmit light so as to show objects beyond them, they also
reflect a sufficient portion to be themselves visible. Light
falling upon the surface of water is dealt with in three
different ways. One portion passes through, a second is
reflected as from a mirror, a third very small portion is
absorbed and radiated anew, so as to make the surface visible
as asurface. The same threefold action obtains in transparent
solids, as glass, crystal, &e. It is to be remarked of solid
bodies that they are almost all transparent to a certain small
depth, as shown by holding up their plates or lamin to the
light. Gold leaf, for example, permits the passage of light ;
and any other metal, if similarly attenuated, would show the
same effect. There is, however, in this case, an important
difference to be noted, inasmuch as objects are not distinctly
seen, although light is transmitted ; hence the name ‘ translu-
cent’ is applied to the case to distinguish it from proper
transparency. There may be something more than a differ-
ence of degree between the two actions.
Opaque bodies may diffuse much light or little: some
substances, such as chalk and sea foam, emit a large body of
light; charcoal is remarkable for absorbing without re-emission
of the sun’s rays. This is the ordinary, perhaps not the full,
explanation of white and black, the one implying a surface
that emits a large portion of the rays of visibility, the other
few or none.
Besides the difference of action making white and black,
and the intermediate shades of grey, there is a difference in
the texture of surfaces, giving birth to what we recognize as
Colour. Upon what peculiarity of surface the difference
between, for example, red and blue, depends, we cannot at
present explain. But this fact of colour is one among the
many distinctions presented by the various materials of the
globe. Along with colour, a substance may have more or less
of the property that decides between white and black, namely,
208 SENSE OF SIGHT.
copiousness of radiation. This makes richness of colour, as
in the difference between new and faded colours, between
turkey red and dull brick clay of a similar hue.
Some bodies are farther said to possess Lustre.
Mineral bodies present all varieties of light, colour, and
lustre, but the prevailing tint of rocks and soils is some shade
of grey. The reddish tint of clays and sandstones is chiefly
due to the prevalence of oxide of iron. Vegetation yields
the greenness of the leaf, and the variegated tints of the
flower. Animal bodies present new and distinct varieties.
2. We come next to consider the organ of sight, the Eye.
‘ Besides the structures which compose the globe of the eye,
and constitute it an optical instrument, there are certain external
accessory parts, which protect that organ, and are intimately
connected with the proper performance of its functions. These
are known as the appendages of the eye (they have been named
likewise ‘tutamina oculi’); and they include the eyebrows, the
eyelids, the organ for secreting the sebaceous (or oily) matter,
and the tears, together with the canals by which the latter fluid —
is conveyed to the nose.’
‘The eyebrows are arched ridges, surmounting on each side
the upper border of the orbit, and forming a boundary between
the forehead and the upper eyelid. They consist of thick integu-
ment, studded with stiff, obliquely set hairs, under which lies
some fat, with part of the two muscles named respectively the
orbicular muscle of the eyelids and the corrugator of the eye-
brows.’ By this last-named muscle the eyebrows are drawn
together, and at the same time downwards, so as to give the
frowning appearance of the eye; the opposite action of lifting
and separating the eyebrows is performed by a muscle lying
beneath the skin of the head termed the occipito-frontalis. In
regulating the admission of light to the eye, and in the expres-
sion of the passions, these two muscles are called into play; the
one is stimulated in various forms of pain and displeasure, the
other in an opposite class of feelings.
‘The eyelids are two thin moveable folds placed in front of
each eye, and calculated to conceal it, or leave it exposed, as
occasion may require. The upper lid is larger and more move-
able than the lower, and has a muscle (levator palpebree superi-
THE EYE. 209
oris) exclusively intended for its elevation. Descending below
the middle of the eye, the upper lid covers the transparent part
of the organ; and the eye is opened, or rather the lids are sepa-
rated, by the elevation of the upper one under the influence of
the muscle referred to. The eyelids are joined at the outer and
inner angles of the eye; the interval between the angles varies
in length in different persons, and, according to its extent, (the
size of the globe being nearly the same,) gives the appearance of
a larger or a smaller eye. At the outer angle, which is more
acute than the inner, the lids are in close contact with the
eye-ball; but at the inner angle, the caruncula lachrymalis (a
small red conical body) intervenes. The free margins of the
lids are straight, so that they leave between them, when approxi-
mated, merely a transverse chink. The greater part of the edge
is flattened, but towards the inner angle it is rounded off for a
short space: and where the two differently formed parts join,
there exists on each lid a slight conical elevation, the apex of
which is pierced by the aperture of the corresponding eee
duct.’—QUAIN.
The lachrymal apparatus is constituted by the following
assemblage of parts—viz., the gland, by which the tears are
secreted at the outer side of the orbit; the two canals, into
which the fluid is received near the inner angles; and the sac
with the duct continued from it, through which the tears pass
to the interior of the nose. The description of these parts need
not be quoted in detail here. Suffice it to say that the tears are
secreted by the lachrymal gland, and poured out from the
eyelids upon the eyeball; the washings afterwards running into
the lachrymal sac, and thence by the nose.
The parts now dwelt upon are less concerned in vision,
than in expression and other functions auxiliary to vision,
Though not directly bearing on the object of the present
section, they will be of importance when we come to consider
the emotions and their outward display. From them we
turn to the ball or globe of the eye.
‘The globe, or ball of the eye, is placed in the fore part of
the orbital cavity, fixed principally by its connexion with the
optic nerve behind, and the muscles with the eyelids in front,
but capable of changing its position within certain limits. The
14 ,
210 | SENSE OF SIGHT.
recti and obliqui muscles closely surround the greater part of the
eyeball; the lids, with the caruncle and its semilunar membrane,
are in contact with it in front; and behind, it is supported by a
quantity of loose fat. The form of the eyeball is irregularly
spheroidal; and, when viewed in profile, is found to be composed
of segments of two spheres, of which the anterior is the smaller
and more prominent; hence the diameter taken from before
Fig. 8.*
* Horizontal section of the right eye, with two of the muscles,—the ex-
ternal and internal recti,—and the optic nerve. a. Aqueous humour. 3.
Crystalline lens. ¢. Vitreous humour. 1. Conjunctiva. 2. Sclerotica. 3.
Cornea. 4. Choroid. 5. Canal of Fontana. 6. Ciliary processes. 7. Iris.
8. Retina. 9. Hyaloid membrane. 10. Zone of Zinn, or ciliary processes
of the hyaloid. 11. Membrane of aqueous humour.—(WHARTON JONES 0”
the Eye.)
COATS OF THE EYE. ZiT
backwards exceeds the transverse diameter by about a line.
The segment of the larger sphere corresponds to the sclerotic
coat, and the portion of the smaller sphere to the cornea.’
‘Hxcept when certain muscles are in action, the axes of the
eyes are nearly parallel; the optic nerves, on the contrary,
diverge considerably from one another, and consequently each
nerve enters the corresponding eye a little to the inner or nasal
side of the axis of the globe.
‘The eyeball is composed of several investing membranes,
concentrically arranged, and of certain fluid and solid parts
contained within them. The membranes are three in number,
an external fibrous covering named sclerotic and cornea, a
middle vascular and pigmentary, in part also muscular, mem-
brane, the choroid and the iris, and an internal nervous stratum,
the retina. The enclosed light-refracting parts, also three in
number, are the aqueous humour, the vitreous body, and the lens
with its capsule.’
The conjwnctiwa is more an appendage of the eye than a portion
of the globe. Itis a thin, transparent membrane covering only
the front or visible portion of the ball, and reflected on it from
the interior of the eyelids, of which it is the hning mucous
membrane. Over the clear and bulging portion of the eye it is
perfectly transparent, and adheres closely to the surface ; on the
parts surrounding the clear portion it is less transparent, and
contains a few straggling blood-vessels, which are seen as red
streaks on the white of the eye.
‘The sclerotic, one of the most complete of the tunics of the
eye, and that on which the maintenance of the form of the
organ chiefly depends, is a strong, opaque, unyielding, fibrous
structure, composed of bundles of strong white fibres, which
interlace with one another in all directions. The membrane
covers about five-sixths of the eyeball, leaving a large opening
in front, which is occupied by the transparent cornea, and a
smaller aperture behind for the entrance of the optic nerve. The
sclerotic is thickest at the back part of the eye, and thinnest
about ¢ of an inch from the cornea. At the junction with the
cornea it is thickened.
‘The cornea is a transparent structure, occupying the aperture
left in the fore part of the sclerotic, and forming about one-fifth
of the surface of the globe of the eye.’ The two together com-
JR Wy SENSE OF SIGHT.
plete the encasement of the eye, and no other portion is employed
for the mere purpose of maintaining the form and rigidity of the
ball.
Spread over the inner surface of the sclerotic, lie two other
membranous expansions, likewise termed coats or tunics, but of
totally different nature and properties. Next the sclerotic, is the
choroid coat, which is a membrane of a black or deep brown
colour, lining the whole of the chamber up to the union of the
sclerotic with the cornea, and then extending inwards as a ring
stretching across the eye. It also is pierced behind by the optic
nerve.
The choroid coat is an extremely vascular structure—that is
to say, it is composed of a dense mass of blood vessels, which lie
in two layers, the outermost of the two being the veins, and the
other the arteries. Inside of those two vascular expansions, is
the layer containing the black pigment that gives to the coat its
colour, and which it is the object of the numerous blood vessels
to keep supplied. The pigment is enclosed in the cells of a
membrane, and these cells are packed very closely together, and
are about the thousandth part of an inch in diameter. Hach cell
has a transparent point in its centre, surrounded by a dark
margin.
The retina, or the nervous coat of the eye, is placed next the
choroid, but does not reach so far forward. If a strong light is
thrown upon it through the pupil of the eye, it appears of a
reddish colour, which is owing to its blood vessels. When
examined after death, it is pinkish and transparent. In the
centre of the retina, and in the line of most perfect vision, is
observed an elliptical yellow, or golden yellow, spot, about 31,
of an inch long and +, wide, in the middle of which is a
dark depression called by the discoverer, Scemmerring, the
central hole. It is not a hole, but a thinner portion of the
retina. About z; to =), of an inch from the inner or nasal side
of the yellow spot, is a flattened circular papilla, corresponding
with the place where the optic nerve pierces the choroid coat.
The retina consists of several layers. Beginning at the
inside, which is in contact with the vitreous humour, we find a
transparent membrane called the limiting membrane, whose
thickness does not exceed goby, of an inch. Next are the
ramifications of the optic nerve, the fibres being arranged in fine
THE RETINA, 213
meshes, and wanting the double outline. These fibres are
exceedingly minute; the average diameter is not more than the
s0.n00 OF aadoo Of an inch; while some are less than the
too000 Of an inch in thickness. Within the fibrous layer, is a
layer of nerve cells or vesicles resembling the vesicles that make
up the grey substance of the brain. ‘These are most abundant
in the hinder or central parts of the retina: they vary from the
avo to the 755 of an inch in diameter. Then comes a still
more complicated layer called the granular and fibrous layer,
which constitutes the link of connexion between the retina and
the choroid coat. It is made up of two distinguishable layers of
little grains or nuclei, and a number of very fine filaments, with
a direction perpendicular to the retina; at their outer connexion,
these filaments are the gz,579 to the goz5 in diameter; at
their inner connexion with the fibres of the optic nerve, they are
from the g5455 to the zzg555 Of an inch in diameter. The
inner of the two layers, making up the granular and fibrous
layer, immediately adjoins the choroid, and is called the columnar
or bacillar layer, being made up of closely-packed perpendicular
rods transparené and colourless, about =,45, of an inch in length,
and 55,359 Of an inch in thickness. Interspersed with these are
larger rods called cones, 3355 of an inch in diameter.* Hach
pigment cell of the choroid receives as many as six or eight of
the cones, with a larger number of the smaller rods grouped
round them. They are connected with the other parts of the
retina by the fine perpendicular filaments.
It is interesting to notice how those several elements are
disposed in the yellow spot and its vicinity, where vision is most
perfect. From the margin of the spot towards the central hole,
the rods of the columnar layer, the nuclei resting upon them,
and the fibres of the optic nerve, gradually diminish, and at last
fade away. On the central hole, nothing is left but the larger
rods, or cones, with the fine perpendicular fibres, and the vesicles,
which are here closer than anywhere else, there being one for
every cone, and the layer being 7 or 8 cells thick. Those
elements that thus disappear in the central hole, are, however,
* The above estimates of size are mostly taken from Koiliker, being
transformed from millimetres by dividing by 24, (instead of 25 and a
fraction), to keep to round numbers.
214 SENSE OF SIGHT.
very abundant near the margin of the yellow spot. The smaller
rods take the place of the cones, and the fibres of the optic
nerve are very abundant and close. Thus, if we take the yellow
spot together with its immediate surroundings, we find there the
retina most highly developed ; and it is on this part that we can
discriminate visible objects with the greatest delicacy. The
unequal distribution of the different elements between the outer
and inner parts of the yellow spot is remarkable.*
Before pointing out the different bodies that make up the
bulk of the eye, and enable it to act as an optic lens, I must
call attention to several other substances of a membranous
or fibrous character lying under the cornea and near the
junction with the sclerotic coat. ‘The first of these is the
ciliary ligament, a narrow circular band, of a greyish-white
colour, close behind the junction above-named. The fore-
most margin, the thicker of the two, gives attachment to the
circular curtain called the iris. The thinner and posterior
margin is blended with the choroid coat, which here prolongs
itself inwards in a series of radiated folds called the cilary
processes. ‘The ciliary processes lie behind the iris, and make
a black, wrinkled, narrow rim, concealed from external view.
* Mr. Herbert Spencer (Psychology, new edition, p. 35) indicates a class
of structures, at the extremities of the nerves of sense, as multipliers of
disturbances, or a8 serving to enhance the efficacy of the peripheral stimu-
lation of the nerves. Thus in touch the short hairs render the skin more
sensitive to contacts; while the so-called ‘little bodies of touch’ tend
greatly to exaggerate the pressure upon the nerve fibres when the skin is
compressed. In the ear, the otolites and minute rods and fibres, serve to
transform the liquid vibrations into the more energetic vibrations of solids,
so as to affect the nerve more powerfully. Finally, in the eye, the lenses
concentrate the light upon the retina.
The structures at the back of the eye are interpreted on the same prin-
ciple of increasing the susceptibility to slight disturbance; the luminous
waves being the feeblest of all known agencies. The fibres of the retina are
reduced to the naked core; the protecting medullary sheath being absent.
The light, passing through the transparent retina, affects the more sus-
ceptible pigment cells of the choroid coat, whence the disturbance is con-
veyed by the rods and perpendicular filaments to the nervous layer of the
retina. Lastly, the nervous layer itself consists not only of fibres, but also
of nerve vesicles or corpuscles, which are much more liable than the fibres to
take on molecular disturbance, and originate molecular motions.
THE IRIS. 215
‘The wis may rightly be regarded as a process of the choroid;
it is continuous with it, although of a modified structure. It
forms a vertical curtain, stretched in the aqueous humour before
the lens, and perforated for the transmission of light. It is
attached all round at the junction of the sclerotic and the cornea,
so near indeed to the latter that its anterior surface becomes
continuous with the posterior elastic lamina.’ ‘The anterior
surface of the iris has a brilliant lustre, and is marked by lines
accurately described by Dr. Jacob, taking a more or less direct
course towards the pupil. These lines are important as being
indicative of a fibrous structure.’ When the pupil is contracted,
these converging fibres are stretched ; when it is dilated, they are
thrown more or less into zigzags. The pupil is nearly circular,
and is situated rather to the inner side of the centre of the iris.
By the movements of the iris, it is dilated or contracted, so as to
admit more or less light to the interior; and its diameter under
these circumstances may vary from about 35 to 3 of an inch.’—
Topp and Bowmay, Vol. IL., p. 25.
The iris is thus. to be considered as a muscular structure,
its fibres being of the unstriped variety, or of the kind that
prevails among the involuntary muscles, as the muscular fibres
of the intestines. It is abundantly supplied with nerves.
While the radiating fibres above described serve to dilate the
pupil, a second class of fibres, arranged in circles round the
opening, and best seen at the inner margin and behind, operate
in contracting it. The action is regulated by the intensity of
the light. In the dark, or in a very faint light, the dilating
fibres are tense and contracted to the full, making the pupil
very wide. The stimulus of light brings the circular or con-
tracting fibres into play, and contracts the opening. The
changes thus affected are useful in adapting the eye to different
lights, admitting a larger quantity with a feeble light, and a
smaller quantity with one that is too strong. When this
reflex power of adaptation reaches its limit, and the brilliancy
is still too great, We then put forth the voluntary efforts of
closing the eye, or of turning the head away from the object.
Behind the ciliary ligament, and covering the outside of
the ciliary processes, is a greyish, semi-transparent structure,
216 SENSE OF SIGHT.
known as the ciliary muscle. ‘It belongs to the unstriped
variety of muscle, and its fibres appear to radiate backwards
from the junction of the sclerotic and cornea, and to lose
themselves on the outer surface of the ciliary body.. The
muscular nature of this structure is confirmed by its anatomy
in birds, where it is largely developed, as noticed by Sir P.
Crampton.’—Topp and Bowman, IL, 27.
A peculiar interest has come to attach to this muscle, from
its supposed operation in adapting the eye to objects at
different distances.
Passing now from the coats of the eye to the substance,
we find three humours, or transparent masses occupying it in
the following order: in the front is the aqueous humour ; next,
the erystalline lens ; and backmost the vitreous humour.
The aqueous or watery humour is a clear, watery liquid lying
under the cornea in front, and bounded behind by the crystalline
lens and the folds of the ciliary processes. This humour is very
nearly pure water, containing in solution a small quantity of
common salt and albumen; and is enclosed in a membrane, which
is in contact with the inner surface of the cornea, in front, and
the ciliary processes and lens behind. The liquid is partly before
and partly behind the iris.
The vitreous or glassy humour lies behind the crystalline lens,
and occupies the entire posterior chamber of the eye, being about
two-thirds of the whole. It consists of a clear, thin fluid enclosed
in a membrane, which membrane not merely surrounds it, but
radiates inwards into its substance like the partitions of an orange,
so as to make up a half-solid gelatinous body—the vitreous body,
or posterior lens of the eye. These partitions are very numerous,
and point to the axis of the eye, but do not reach to it; and
consequently there is a central cylinder passing from front to
back, composed only of the fluid of the body. The form of the
vitreous body is convex behind, while before there is a deep cup-
shaped depression for receiving the crystalline lens. The mem-
brane that surrounds it on all sides, as well as entering into the
interior, has a twofold connexion in front; it doubles so as to
receive the crystalline lens between its folds, and it unites with
the ciliary processes, which surround the lens without reaching
MUSCLES OF THE EYE. 217
its border. Thus the partition, between the aqueous humour in
front, and the vitreous humour behind, is made up of three
Successive portions enclosing one another :—the wrinkled black
ring of the ciliary processes outermost ; within this, a ring of the
doubled membrane of the vitreous humour; and inmost of all,
the crystalline lens, enclosed between the two folds of the mem-
brane.
The crystalline lens is a transparent solid lens, double convex
in its form, but more rounded behind than before. It is sus-
pended between the aqueous and vitreous humours in the manner
already described. Its convexity before approaches very near the
curtain of the iris stretched in front of it. The lens is enclosed
in a capsule; and of this the front portion is thick, firm, and
horny, while the portion on the back is thin and membraneous,
adhering firmly to the membrane of the vitreous humour. The
substance of the lens varies in its character; the outside is
soft and gelatinous; beneath is a firmer layer; and in the cen-
tre is the hardest part, called the nucleus. It is supplied with
blood vessels in the edges, but none appear to penetrate within
except in a very early stage of life. It undergoes altogether a
great change during the development of the individual. In the
foetus, it is nearly spherical, and not perfectly transparent ; in
mature life, it is of the form and character described above ;
while, in old age, it becomes flattened on both surfaces, loses its
transparency, and increases in toughness and density.
Of the six muscles of the eye, four are called recta or
straight, and two oblique. The four recti muscles arise from
the bony socket in which the eye is placed, around the
opening where the optic nerve enters from the brain; they are
all inserted in the anterior external surface of the eyeball,
their attachments being respectively on the upper, under,
outer, and inner edges of the sclerotic. The superior oblique
or trochlear muscle arises close by the origin of the superior
straight muscle, and passes forward to a loop of cartilage ;
its tendon passes through the loop, and is reflected back, and
inserted on the upper posterior surface of the eyeball. The
inferior oblique muscle arises from the internal inferior angle
of the fore part of the orbit, and is inserted into the internal
“21S SENSE OF SIGHT.
inferior surface of the eyeball, behind the middle of the
ball.
The motions of the eyeball that would be caused by the
contractions of any of these muscles are not difficult to trace.
The inferior muscle, by its contraction, will make the ball
revolve so as to look downwards ; the superior straight muscle
will make it look upwards. The internal and external recti
will give it their respective directions, the one inward, the
other outward. ‘The action of the trochlear muscle is peculiar.
Inasmuch as it is reflected backwards to be inserted in the
globe of the eye, it will turn the eyeball downwards and out-
wards ; that is, the eye would, by its action, look obliquely
downwards and outwards. ‘This muscle tends also to draw
the ball of the eye a little forward, or to make it protrude.
The inferior oblique muscle, having its origin in the fore part
of the orbit, and its insertion in the inner side of the eyeball,
will, by its contraction, also draw the eye forward, and turn
it upwards and inwards,
The external rectus is balanced by the internal rectus.
The superior rectus is supported by the inferior oblique, in
giving the eye its upward movement. ‘The inferior rectus is
supported by the superior oblique, in imparting the downward
movement of the eye. There is thus a greater expenditure
of muscular tension in moving the eye up and down than in
the lateral movements. It may be this that gives a greater
impressiveness to the vertical dimension ; the upright line of
an equal cross appears to the eye longer.
All the movements of the eye could be performed by three
recti muscles and one oblique; the two others are, strictly
speaking, supernumerary, but still operate. This makes it
uncertain which muscles actually perform any one movement.
The presumption is that we employ such muscles as in each
case perform the movement with the least expenditure of
force. Very few movements could arise from a single muscle.
The movements possible by two muscles are not very
numerous. Meissner gives twelve directions from the primary
position of the eye, which is assumed as directed in a line
CONDITIONS OF VISION. 219
45° below the horizontal line. The eye, in passing from one
part of the field to another, might be supposed to take the
straight route. Wundt is of opinion that the straight route
is preferred only in the horizontal and the vertical sweep.
In other directions, the sweep is in a curve, which is greatest
when the two points in the field of vision make an angle of
45° with the horizon.
3. Such being the mechanism of the eye, I must now
touch briefly upon its mode of acting as the organ of sight.
The optical part of the process is well enough understood.
When the eye is directed to any object, an image of that
object is depicted on the back of the eye, by means of the
rays of light entering the pupil, and duly refracted by the
different humours. The precise mode of stimulating the
nervous filaments of the retina is not known; but the
pigment cells of the choroid play an important part, being
themselves highly absorbent of light; where they are not
found, as at the place of entrance of the optic nerve, there is
no power of vision (the blind spot). In order to perfect
vision the following farther conditions are necessary :—
(1.) A sufficiency of light or illumination in the object
viewed. This is an obvious necessity. We judge of the
quantity of light present by the power we have of seeing
objects distinctly. Some animals can see with much less light
than others, and to such the noonday sun must be painful.
(2.) The formation of the image exactly on the retina, and
not before or behind. The focus of the image must coincide
with the retina. If this is not the case the image is indistinct;
the rays of light either do not converge, or have begun to
disperse, at the back of the eye. The perfect convergence of
the image by the lenses constituting the ball of the eye,
depends on the distance of the object, and also in some
degree on the self-adjustment of the eye. ‘As this power of
adaptation of the eye itself for vision, at different distances,
has its limits, there is in every individual a distance at
which he sees most distinctly, and at which the focus of the
image, formed by the refracting media of the eye, corre-
220 SENSE OF SIGHT.
sponds most accurately with the situation of the retina. This
distance may be stated at from five to ten inches, in the
majority of individuals. Objects which are too near the eye
throw very indistinct images upon the retina; a slender body,
such as a pin, held close to the eye, cannot be seen at all, or
produces only an undefined impression on the retina. Few
persons, on the other hand, are able to read print at a much
greater distance than twenty inches.’
(3.) The third condition of perfect vision is the minute
size of the subdivisions of the retina capable of independent
sensation. We are sensitive to very minute lines and points ;
and there is a limit of minuteness, where a number of
distinct lines would seem as one. This is the limit of the
optical subdivision of the retina, analogous to the intervals of
double sensation in touch.
It appears that minuteness of discrimination is aided by
the following circumstances. 1. An intense light will enable
a smaller object to be seen. 2. A white picture can be seen
smaller than a blue. 3. A line can be seen better than a
point of the same diameter. The smallest angle for a round
body is 20”; a thread-like object is discernible under an
angle of 3”; a glancing wire can impress the eye at an angle
of #”. According to Weber and Volkmann, two bright lines
must be separated at least from g@5q to go4yq Of an inch on
the yellow spot to give a double sensation; which is an
estimate quite compatible with the observed minuteness of the
fibres and vesicles of the retina, supposing each of these capable
of conveying an independent impression to the brain.
The power of discrimination diminishes rapidly as the im-
pression recedes from the yellow spot. Ata point 60° from
the centre of the spot, an object must be 150 times larger, in
order to be distinguished. Thus, although the eye can take
in a wide field at once, the power of minute observation is
confined to a very small part in the centre of the retina.*
* Another condition of perfect vision has been suggested by the following
experiments of Wundt :—If a small piece of red paper is held before the eye,
and then moved to one side without the eye following it, so that the impres-
MINUTE SENSIBILITY OF THE EYE. 221
The great superiority of the eye, as a medium for perceiv-
ing the outer world, lies in this power of independent sensi-
bility to minute points. I have already adverted tv the
distinction between the lower and the higher senses in this
particular. The nerve of vision must needs consist of a
number of independent fibres maintaining their distinctness
all the way to the brain, and capable of causing distinct
waves of diffusion throughout the entire cerebral mass ; every
one of these many thousand impressions varying the mental
sion is made first in the yellow spot, and then on the lateral parts of the
retina, the colour is variously seen. To the yellow spot, the paper is red ;
as it moves sideways, it becomes darker; gradually, it assumes a blueish
tint, and, at last, it appears perfectly black. Similar variations occur with
any other colour, simple or mixed, and also with white, which unites all the
colours. The last in the series is in all cases black. Whence it appears that
different parts of the retina are differently sensitive to impressions of colour.
The variation occurs in the same order in every direction, but with unequal
rapidity. The series is passed through quicker, when the object is moved
outwards, than when it is moved inwards; and also quicker for the upward
than for the downward movement. It does not follow that in looking at a
wide expanse of one colour, we see the gradations of tint in concentric rings.
This is only one of many cases where the mind overbears the sense. We
have contracted our notion of each surface from the way that its parts affect
us when brought successively before the yellow spot—the place of minute
examination—and what we seem to see is the habitual effect, rather than the
effect at the instant. I shall afterwards allude to an important application
of this fact, suggested to explain our power of. localizing the different
impressions made on the retina. I may advert here also to the phenomena
of colour-blindness, and to the suppositions that have been made to account
for it. We have already mentioned a speculation, to the effect that the
different parts of the ear may respond to different tones or notes. A similar
assumption has been extended to the eye. It is considered not unlikely that
there are different nerve fibres and endings for the different primary colours,
which endings are unequally mixed over the surface of the retina. It may
be supposed that at one place violet rods predominate, at another green; and
that in the yellow spot the red endings are most abundant. Colour-blindness
would then consist in the deficiency or absence of one set of endings. The
most frequent form of this defect is obtuseness to the primary sensation
of redness; all coloured bodies are then seen as composed of green and
violet. The spectrum to such persons is comprehended as of a yellowish and
a blueish tinge. What they call white, the ordinary eye sees to be coloured.
Colour-blindness has been known to exist with reference to green, but, as
yet, not to violet.
O22 SENSE OF SIGHT.
experience, and originating a distinct volition. We shall
probably meet with no fact attesting more conspicuously the
complexity, and yet the separateness of action, of the cerebral
system. We can easily satisfy ourselves of the reason why
the cerebral hemispheres should be necessary to vision,
considering what is thus implied in every instance of seeing
whatsoever.
4. On the Adaptation of the Eye to Vision at different
Distances—If I see an object distinctly six inches distant
from the eye, all objects at a greater distance are indistinct.
The image of the near object falls correctly on the retina, the
images of remote objects are formed in front of the retina.
By a voluntary effort, I can adapt the eye to see a far-off
object with tolerable clearness, but it then happens that any
near body becomes confused. The questions arise—what is
the change produced upon the eyeball, in the course of this
adaptation from near to far, and from far to near, and what
apparatus effects the change ?
In seeing close at hand, the crystalline lens becomes
thicker and more convex in front ; in seeing at a distance, the
surface is flattened. The change of curvature is considerable.
The centre-point bulges out zgth of an inch for near vision.
A very slight increase takes place in the curvature of the
hinder surface.
The changes of curvature depend on the action of the
ciliary muscle. This muscle contracts for near vision; the
effect of the contraction is to draw the choroid membrane
forwards, and by that means to compress the vitreous humour,
which exerts a pressure on the lens, pushing it forwards. At
the same time, the muscular fibres of the iris come into play,
contracting the pupil and also the outer circumference. This
brings a pressure to bear upon the lens from before, but not
an equal pressure ; it is least at the centre and greatest to-
wards the edges. Between these two pressures, from behind
and before, the lens is bulged out in the middle, and its
curvature increased. Thus, for near vision, there is a very
considerable muscular action; when looking at anything
BINOCULAR VISION. 223
close, we are conscious of a strain in the interior of the ball.
For distant vision, this action is relaxed, and the natural
elasticity of the parts restores the flattening of the lens.
Hence the natural repose of the eye makes the adjustment
for a distant prospect.*
The eyeball is subject to alteration chiefly for near dis-
tances. Between the smallest visible distance, say four
inches, and three feet, nearly the whole range of the adjust-
ment is gone through. When we compare distant objects of
varying remoteness, as, for example, thirty feet with one
hundred, or a thousand, very little change is effected on the
form of the eyeball, the adjustment then depending on the
greater or less convergence of the two eyes. This leads to
the subject of double vision.
5. Of single Vision with two eyes. Binocular Vision—
Among the questions Jong discussed in connexion with sight,
was included the enquiry, why with two eyes do we see
objects single? Answers more or less satisfactory were
attempted to be given; but since the year 1838, an entirely
new turn has been given to the discussion. In that year,
Professor Wheatstone gave to the Royal Society his paper on
Binocular Vision, wherein he described his ‘ stereoscope,’ or
instrument for imitating and illustrating the action of the two
eyes in producing single vision. The following quotation is
from the opening paragraph :—
‘When an object is viewed at so great a distance that the
optic axes of both eyes are sensibly parallel when directed to-
wards it, the perspective projections of each, seen by each eye
separately, are similar, and the appearance to the two eyes is
* The limits of single vision are illustrated by the following experiment.
If a thread is moved against a white wall, and we observe it with one eye
through a tube, we can feel a difference when it is moved nearer, but not when
it is moved farther away. This is consistent with the circumstances, that in
changing to near vision, we cause a muscle to contract, while in changing to
a more distant view, the natural elasticity of the parts releases an existing
contraction. So, under the same circumstances, we may estimate the interval
moved over by the thread, when it is brought nearer; but we can form no
estimate of the absolute distance.—(Wundt.)
224 SENSE OF SIGHT.
precisely the same as when the object is seen by one eye only.
There is in such case no difference between the visual appearance
of an object in relief, and its perspective projection on a plane
surface ; and hence pictorial representations of distant objects,
when those circumstances which would prevent or disturb the
illusion are carefully excluded, may be rendered such perfect
resemblances of the objects they are intended to represent, as to
be mistaken for them; the Diorama is an instance of this. But
this similarity no longer exists when the object is placed so near
the eyes that to view it the optic axes* must converge; and these
perspectives are more dissimilar as the convergence of the optic
axes becomes greater. This fact may be easily verified by placing
any figure of three dimensions—an outline cube, for instance—at
a moderate distance before the eyes, and while the head is kept
perfectly steady, viewing it with each eye successively while
the other is closed. The figure represents the two perspective
Fic. 9.
projections of a cube; ais seen by the right eye, and d is the
view presented to the left eye, the figure being supposed to be
placed about seven inches immediately before the spectator.’
‘Tt will now be obvious why it is impossible for the artist to
give a faithful representation of any near solid object, that is to
produce a painting which shall not be distinguished in the mind
from the object itself. When the painting and the object are
seen with both eyes, in the case of the painting, two similar
pictures are projected on the retingw, in the case of the solid
object, the pictures are dissimilar; there is therefore an essential
* The optic axis of the eye is the line of visible direction for distinct
vision, or a line proceeding from the central point of the apo and passing
through the centres of the lenses of the eye.
DISSIMILARITY OF PICTURES TO THE TWO EYES. 225
difference between the impressions on the organs of sensation in
the two cases, and consequently between the perceptions formed
in the mind; the painting, therefore, cannot be confounded with
the solid object.’
This dissimilarity of the pictures is the chief optical sign
of solidity or of three dimensions. The greater the dissimi-
larity, the more decidedly is a third dimension suggested ;
perfect similarity occurs in looking at things very remote, or
in examining a surface at right angles to the line of vision,
all the parts being equally distant. Thus, when we gaze at
a painting close at hand, we are not deluded into the belief
of its being a reality. Anything near must have its parts at
an equal distance from the eye, in order to present identical
pictures, and we draw the inference accordingly. The stereo-
scope gives the illusion of solid effect by presenting to the
two eyes dissimilar pictures, imitating the natural presenta-
tion in the case of an object or a scene unequally removed
from the eye.
A great difficulty is experienced in explaining double
vision, through mistaking the exact nature of the effect pro-
duced upon the mind by the impression made on the eye on
one single occasion. We are apt to suppose that the entire
conscious state at any one moment—the full imagery pictured
to our view—is determined by the rays affecting the retina at
that moment. The truth is, that what rises to the mind on
the sight of an outward thing, is an aggregate of past impres-
sions, which the impression of the moment suggests, but does
not constitute. The education of the sense of sight makes
us aware, that an identical impression upon both eyes concurs
either with great distance, or with mere surface, that is, with
two dimensions only, there being no inequality of distance
from the eye. On the other hand, unlikeness of picture cor-
responds with the introduction of the element of unequal
distance, and the more this inequality exists, the greater is
the dissimilarity; and, accordingly, the mind, instead of
being perplexed with double images, at once adopts the
notion of a single complex object with varying remoteness,
15
226 | SENSE OF SIGHT.
the variation being estimated among other signs by this very
unlikeness of the pictures. It is immaterial whether the
retinal presentations be two, as in binocular vision, or
thousands, as in the vision of insects; these presentations
are but the hint to a mental construction, representing the
unity of the external scene, in its length, breadth, and depth.
6. Before quitting the consideration of the Eye, I should
mention that the seeing of objects erect by means of an wnverted
image on the retina, has been conceived as a phenomenon
demanding explanation. But to make this a question at all,
is to misapprehend entirely the process of visual perception.
An object seems to us to be up or down, according as we
raise or lower the pupil of the eye in order to see it; the
very notion of up and down is derived from our feelings of
movement, and not at all from the optical image formed on
the back of the eye. Wherever this image was formed, and
however it lay, we should consider that to be the top of the
object which we had to raise our eyes or our body to reach.*
7. And now as to the sensations, or the proper mental
elements of Sight. These are partly optical, resulting from
the effect of light on the retina; and partly muscular, arising
through the action of the various muscles. Nearly all sen-
sations of sight combine both elements.
8. I shall commence with the sensation of mere light,
and shall take the diffused solar radiance as the leading
example. This is one of the most powerful of the simple
influences that affect the human sense. Light is eminently
* Still one can say (with Wundt) that, from the construction of the organ
of vision, it even necessarily follows that the image should be inverted on
the retina. The anterior and posterior convexities of the ball, it is clear,
must always move in opposite senses. Take, then, what we call a downward
movement of the eye, as when we run the eye down a spire from apex to
base. This means, with reference to the retina, that we bring successively
upon the yellow spot. the different parts of the whole image, beginning with
the image of the apex. But the retina being at the back of the eye, and the
back surface mounting with the downward movement of the anterior,
clearly what is apex in the real spire must be the lowest point of the retinal
image—if the natural relation of front and back in motion is to be preserved.
SENSATION OF LIGHT. 227
a source of pleasure, which rises in degree, within certain
limits, in proportion to the abundance of the luminous
emanation. The degree is massive or acute, according as
the effect proceeds from a diffused surface like the sky, or
from luminous points as in artificial illumination. In either
case it is possible to obtain a considerable amount of pleasure
from this source. As a cheering influence, light ranks with
warmth, alimentation, and pleasant repose. On the principle
of Relativity, the full effect is experienced only after confine-
ment in the dark. |
The speciality of the pleasures of light is their endurable-
ness. The influence, although powerful, is yet gentle; it does
not exhaust the nerves so rapidly as sweet tastes, pungent
odours, or loud sounds. This is the great distinction of the
sense of sight. Hearing also ranks high in the same pro-
perty, but we must still assign to it the second place. One
of the things understood by the term ‘refinement, as applied
to pleasure, is this aptitude for being endured a great lenoth
of time without palling and satiety. The pleasures of sight
are of a more lasting kind than those of the inferior senses.
From this, and from some other circumstances that I do not
here advert to, they enter into the feelings of the Beautiful.
Light and shade, and the harmonious arrangement of colours,
may suffice to constitute a work of Fine Art. The serene and
soothing influence of sunshine furnishes a bond of connexion
between effects of light and the tender feeling. The expla-
nation I believe to be, that pleasure, when voluminous and not
acute, generally subdues the active excitement and the ener-
getic disposition of the system, and so brings the mind into
the state most congenial to the pleasures of tender emotion.
As regards Volition, the pleasures of light so far accord
with the general rule ; that is, they stimulate the will in pro-
portion to their degree. We shun gloomy abodes and seek
the cheerful day, or the well-lighted room ; when the sunlight
is painfully excessive, we retire to the shade.
There is, however, a remarkable exception to this general
tule. In the presence of a light too strong to be agreeable,
228 | SENSE OF SIGHT.
the eye is worked upon, as by a spell or fascination, and
continues gazing upon what gives pain or discomfort. The
experimental proof of the fact is, that we find it a pleasing
relief to interpose a screen between us and a light that we
cannot divert the eye from, so long as it is within reach.
Human beings experience, in a small degree, the fascination
that in the moth is overpowering, even to self-destruction.
This is the first clear indication of the existence of
tendencies thwarting the regular course of the will) which is
tc pleasure, and from pain); and constituting us, to that
extent, irrational beings. Our sensations appear to have, in
some cases at least, an efficacy to attract and detain us not
only while wanting in pleasure, but also when positively
painful. The present is an unequivocal instance.
With reference to Intellect, the sensations of sight have
a marked superiority in the scale of the senses.
The pleasures and pains of sight possess, in the generality
of minds, a higher ideal persistence and recoverability than
the feelings of any other sense. If there be any exceptions to
this rule, they are probably cases of unusual endowment and
cultivation of the sense of hearing.
The endurability of the sensations without fatigue, and
the comparatively easy persistence in memory or idea, may
proceed from the same fundamental characteristic—the great
delicacy of the shock of light on the nervous substance, as
compared with the resulting sensibility.
In the most properly intellectual aspect—the bearings
upon knowledge—the superiority of sight is still more pro-
nounced. The sensations in the highest degree admit of
being discriminated and identified ; and also of being retained
in memory as images of surrounding things.
The enjoyment of light demands alternation, and limita-
tion as to amount. In sunny climates, the exposure to it for
the entire day is excessive and exhausting; it has to be
balanced by artificial darkness and shade. Places unable
to afford the full quantity that human beings can enjoy, are
styled gloomy and dull.
COLOUR. 229
9. Colour introduces a new effect, as compared with white
light. By a measured alternation of the different colours, we
gain a new pleasure, which has all the distinguishing pecu-
liarities of the pleasure of light and shade. The decompo-
sition of the solar ray into certain primary colours, in fixed
proportions, is an exact key to the harmony of colouring, or
to the alternation most agreeable to the mind.
We commonly speak of the different colours as having
characteristic effects; blue and green are reckoned mild
or soft; red is fiery, pungent, or exciting. The eye when
fatigued with the glare of sunshine, is said to find repose
in the verdure of the fields. But these allegations camnot be
maintained in an absolute sense. Colour, like all other
things, operates in accordance with the principle of Relati-
vity. The effect of any single colour is due to the transition
from others felt previously. If red were the one universal
tint, we should never have recognized colour at all; we
should have spoken only of light and dark. The effects
attributed to redness are due to its contrast with the pre-
vailing tints about us. Next to white light and shades of
dull grey, we are familiarized to blue and green. The
balance is usually in favour of the blue end of the spectrum,
and hence the occurrence of red is a lively stimulation. If
the proportions were reversed in nature; if red and yellow
took the place of blue and green, these last would be the
exciting colours: they would have the freshness of rarity
and novelty. The pleasure of newly-discovered shades of
colour, as the mauve and magenta dyes, has no foundation
but novelty and contrast. The variegated aspects of the
fields and gardens in the bloom of vegetation, have more
beauty than the unbalanced verdure of the leaf. The diffu-
sion of red and yellow supplies the wanting ingredients of
the picture. The colours of sunrise and sunset are the
scenic splendours of the sky.
10. Artificial lights usually fail somewhat in the propor-
tions of white light, and, therefore, have the pungency of an
unbalanced colour. The flame of a fire is an agreeable stimu-
230 SENSE OF SIGHT.
lation ; the intensity does not amount to a painful excess.
The light of a lamp arrests and detains the eye; the fresh
sensibility of childhood is delighted with the effect, and soon
learns the voluntary movements for following it when shifted
about.
11. There remains to be noticed the sensation of lustre.
The lustrous is opposed to the dull. The pleasure of lustre
is greater than the pleasure of colour alone.
The most characteristic effect of lustrous bodies is the
sparkle, or the occurrence of bright spots in the midst of com-
parative darkness—a marked case of light and shade. This
is a combination highly favourable to the agreeable stimulus
of light. Lustrous bodies have a mirror surface, and reflect
the sun’s rays in beams; these, starting out at points, are in
strong contrast to the remaining surface.
The highest beauty of visible objects is obtained by lustre.
The precious gems are recommended by it. The finer woods
yield it by polish and varnish. ‘The painter’s colours are
naturally dead, and he superadds the transparent film. This
property redeems the privation of colour, as in the lustrous
black. The green leaf is often adorned by it, through the
addition of moisture. Possibly much of the refreshing influ-
ence of greenness in vegetation is due to lustrous greenness.
Animal tissues present the effect in a high degree. Ivory,
mother of pearl, bone, silk, and wool are of the class of bril-
liant or glittering substances. The human skin is a com-
bination of richness of colouring with lustre. The hair is
beautiful in a great measure from its brilliancy. The eye is
perhaps the finest example; the deep black of the choroid,
and the colours of the iris, are liquified by the transparency
of the humours.
12. We have next to deal with the complex sensations of
sight, those resulting from the combination of optical effect
with the feelings of movement arising out of the muscles of
the eyeball. As in the case of Touch, this combination is —
necessary as a basis of those perceptions of the external world
that are associated with sight—Externality, Motion, Form,
VISIBLE MOVEMENTS. 208
Distance, Size, Solidity, and relative Position. Mere light
and colour will not suffice to found these perceptions upon ;
as already maintained, in the exposition of Muscularity and
of Touch, it is necessary to refer them to the moving appa-
ratus of the eye and of the body generally.
13. Visible Movements. One of the earliest acquired of our
voluntary actions is the power of following a moving object
by the sight. Supposing our gaze arrested by a strong light,
as a candle-flame, the shifting of the candle would draw the
eyes after it, partly through their own movement, and partly
by the rotation of the head. ‘The consequence is a complex
sensation of light and movement, just as the sensation of a
weight depressing the hand is a sensation of touch and move-
ment. If the flame moves to the right, the right muscles are
engaged in following it; if to the left, the left muscles, and so
on; and thus we have several distinct combinations of light
and muscular impression, marking distinctness of direction,
and never confounded with one another.
Motion, instead of continuing in one direction, may change
its direction, and take a course crooked or curved. This
brings into play new muscles and combinations, and leaves
behind a different trace of muscular action. The right muscles
of the eye may have to act along with the superior muscles,
and ata shifting rate. This gives an oblique and slanting
direction, which we can ever afterwards identify when the
same muscles are similarly brought into operation. We have
thus a perfect discrimination of varying directions, through the
distinct muscles that they bring into play,
We can with the eye, as with other active organs, dis-
criminate the greater or less continuance of a movement, and
thereby estimate Duration in the first instance, and, in the
next place, obtain another instrument applicable eventually
to estimating Extended Magnitude.
Our muscular sensibility also discriminates rate or velocity
of movement. A quick movement excites a different feeling
from one that is slow; and we thence acquire graduated
sensations, corresponding to degrees of speed, up to a certain
Bou SENSE OF SIGHT.
limit of nicety. This estimate of the rate of contraction also
indirectly serves as a means of judging of Extension, after
we have arrived at the notion of visible Space, as opposed to
Succession in Time.
The muscular sensibility of the dead strain, or of Resist-
ance, can scarcely occur in the eye, there being nothing to
resist its movements but its own inertia. What is called
straining the eye (which happens in close and minute vision)
is not the same thing as straining the arms in the support of
a heavy weight. Hence of the three primary sensibilities of
muscle—Resistance, Continuance, and Speed—two only be-
long to the ocular muscles. Accordingly the eye, with all its
superiority in giving the mind the pictorial array of the ex-
tended world, cannot be said to include the fundamental
consciousness of the object universe, the sense of Resistance.
There is a certain kindred sensibility in the common fact of
muscular tension; but it is by association, and not by
intrinsic susceptibility, that the power of vision impresses us
so strongly with the feeling of the Object world.
While the retina of the eye is receiving one and the same
optical impression (in the supposed case of the candle-flame),
this may, by movement, be imbedded in a great many different
muscular impressions, and may constitute a great variety of
pictorial effect. By changing the muscles and by varying
their rate of action, we may so change the resulting impres-
sions, that any one motion shall be recognized by us as
distinct from every other, while each may be identified on a
recurrence.
Many of the pleasures of Muscular Movement, described
in the previous chapter, may be experienced in the spectacle
of moving objects. The massive languid feeling of slow
movement, the excitement of a rapid pace, the still higher
pleasure of a waxing or waning speed, can all be realized
through the muscles of the eye and the head. The slow
procession, the gallop of a race-horse, the flight of a cannon-
ball, exhibit different varieties of the excitement of motion.
In the motion of a projectile, where a rapid horizontal sweep —
IMAGERY OF VISIBLE MOVEMENT. BOD
is accompanied with a gentle rise and fall, we have one set of
muscles quickly moved, and another set in slow varying
tension, thereby contributing the still more agreeable effect of
increasing and dying motion. While the projectile flies across
the field of view, the horizontal motion is uniform, but the
pace upwards diminishes, and at last dies away at the highest
point ; the body then recommences a downward course, slow
at first, but accelerating until it reach the ground. Hence
the beauty of curves.
The pleasures of moving objects and stirring spectacle
count for much in the excitement of human life. They are
really pleasures of action; but inasmuch as only a very
limited portion of muscle is excited by them, they do not
constitute bodily exercise, and are therefore, to all practical
intents, passive pleasures, like music or sunshine. Whence
dramatic display, the ballet, the circus, the horse race, the
spectatorship of games and sports, although engaging the
activity of the eye, do not belong properly to our active en-
joyments. They may, however, be the means of stimulating
the general activity of the frame.
Among the permanent imagery of the wntellect, recalled,
combined, and dwelt upon in many ways, we are to include
visible movements. The flight of a bird is a characteristic
that distinguishes one species from another; and the impres-
sion left by itis part of our knowledge or recollection of
each individual kind. The gallop of a horse is a series of
moving pictures, which leave a trace behind them, and are
revived as such. The motions that constitute the carriage
and expression of an animal or a man, demand particular
movements of the eye, in order to take them in and store
them up among our permanent notions. All the gestures,
modes of action, and changes of feature that emotion inspires,
are visible to the eye as an assemblage of movements, and
we recognize such movements as marking agreement or
difference, among individuals, and in different passions.
Many of the aspects of the external world impress them-
selves upon the moving apparatus of the eye. The surface
234 SENSE OF SIGHT.
of the sea, the drifting of clouds, the fall of rain, the waving
of trees in the wind, the rushing of water, the darting of
meteors, the rising and setting of the sun—are all mixed
impressions of spectacle and movement. In like manner, in
the various processes of the arts, there are characteristic
movements to constitute our means of discrimination, and
our permanent notions of those processes. The evolutions
of an army have to be remembered as movements, and there-
fore need to be embodied among the muscular recollections
of the system.
14. Visible Form.—We have taken the case of moving
objects as the least complicated experience of vision. We
must now enquire by what process we perceive Visible Form
and Extension, and acquire the notion of Simultaneous
existence in Space. It has to be shown that the eye is active
in the observation even of still life; the special mode of
activity being such as to make the mind feel the difference
between Succession and Co-existence.
When we follow a moving object, as a rocket, or a bird,
and when we carry the eye along the curve of the rainbow,
there is a common fact of movement, with important dif-
ferences in the mode. ‘These differences are, to a great degree,
parallel to those described under Touch, whereby the know-
ledge of objects as co-existing is attained. (1.) In the first place,
in following the outline of the rainbow, we are not constrained
to any one pace of movement, as with a bird or a projectile.
This alone would give a lively sense of difference between the
two appearances. (2.) In the next place, the optical impression,
in the case of a still form, is not one unchanging sensation,
but a series of sensations, which may be of the same nature—
as in the rainbow, or may be all different—as in sweeping across
the clouds or the landscape. (3.) Thirdly, we can, by
an inverted movement, encounter the same series of optical
sensations, in the inverted order ; whereas, in the other case,
the object passes finally away from the sight. (4.) In the fourth
place, we may repeat the movement, at any rate of speed, and
in so doing obtain the same series of sensations, in the same
CO-EXISTENCE IN SPACE. 235
order. Both in touch and in sight, this circumstance is pro-
bably what, more than anything else, gives us that vivid
sense of the difference between objects moving and passing
away—thereby typifying Succession—and objects that are
simultaneous or co-exist, which is the meaning of Space.
The more frequently we experience this fixed recurrence of
optical sensations, in company with a definite movement, the
broader is the line between that mode of existence and the
objects that give us only one chance of observing them. The
constant reception of a definite series of sensations by one
definite movement, and the equally constant occurrence of
the series inverted under an inverted movement, go far to
make up our notion, meaning, and expectation, of objects
extended in Visible Space.
But, (5.) in the fifth place, as regards Sight, the peculiar
power of the eye to embrace at one glance a wide prospect,
although minutely perceiving only a small portion, is avail-
able to confirm the same distinction. When the glance is
carried along the field of view, the portions that cease to
occupy the centre of the eye, still impress the retina, and
have a place in the consciousness, though much less dis-
tinctly perceived. This constitutes an additional distinction
between the transitory flight of a meteor and the picture of
the starry sphere. Touch possesses this means of discrimina-
tion only in a very limited degree. The extended surface of
the hand, the plurality of fingers, the united touch of the two
hands, and such extent of the surface of the body as can make
a simultaneous contact,—are all that there is to correspond to
this great prerogative of sight, in giving a plurality of simul-
taneous impressions, so as to mark the difference between the
co-existing in Space and the successive in Time. When a
definite series of successive sensations are svmultaneously felt,
they suggest all the separate facts of movement, together with
the whole fact of movement, involved in a perception of the
Extended. 7
Thus, then, the observation of the forms of still life is a
combination of the movements of the eye, with the optical
236 SENSE OF SIGHT.
impressions corresponding to the different parts of the field of -
view. Exactly as in the case of moving things—by a hori-
zontal sweep, we take in a horizontal line ; by a circular sweep,
we derive the muscular impression of a circle; by a sudden
change of direction, we are cognizant of an angle; there being,
in all these instances, the persistence on the retina of the whole
figure, while the eye scans the successive parts.
The transition is easy from Jines to Surfaces. A more
numerous and complex series of movements is requisite to
give the impression of a visible area or superficies. But
the same constant series of optical effects, imbedded in the
same movements, inverted and repeated as oft as we please,
enters into the cognition of space in ¢wo dimensions, as
well as into the perception of linear magnitude, or space
viewed in one dimension.
15. Apparent Size.—The apparent size or visible magni-
tude is made up of the two discriminations—optical and
muscular. ‘The Optical discrimination takes place through the
extent of the image on the retina; hence the apparent size
is spoken of by Wheatstone as the retinal magnitude. ‘The
Muscular discrimination depends upon the sweep of the eye
under the action of its muscles; and is, therefore, a fact
or experience of our muscular energy or activity. The
two estimates co-operate to a joint result. They are both
equivalent to an angular estimate, or the proportion of the
visible surface to a whole sphere. The apparent diameter
of the sun or moon is half a degree, or 7$z of the circle
of the sky.
The combined estimate of Retinal Magnitude, by our two
most sensitive organs—the retina and the ocular group of
muscles—renders our measurement of apparent size singularly
delicate. In fact, this is the finest discrimination within the
compass of our senses; and whenever we desire to measure
any property with nicety, we endeavour to resolve the case
into a comparison of visible magnitudes. Of this description
are the standards of weight (the balance), of heat (the ther-
mometer), and many others.
DISTANCE FROM THE EYE. 237
The fluctuations of visible magnitude in consequence of
changes of Distance are appreciated with similar delicacy ;
and after we are aware that these fluctuations correspond to
alteration of veal distance, we use them as the most delicate
test of remoteness.
The celestial bodies and the clouds are conceived by us
solely under their apparent or visible size. ‘Terrestrial
objects, being seen by us at different distances, vary in
apparent size, and we conceive most of them under a more or
or less perfect estimate of their real size, as ascertained by
handling and locomotion. Failing this estimate, we adopt
some one point of view, which we have been most accustomed
to, and conceive the object, as seen from thence. In regard
to very familiar things, as a chair, or a man, we uniformly
translate the apparent estimate into a real estimate. A
building, a distant mountain, a landscape, are visually con-
ceived as they appear from our most usual position with
reference to them.
16. Distance, or varying remoteness——The apparent size,
as above considered, includes only two dimensions. In order
to appreciate apparent volume or solidity, as an advance
upon mere extension, or surface, we must estimate varying
remoteness also.
Leaving out, at the present stage, the consideration of
real distance, as well as real magnitude, we may advert
to the various ocular sensibilities affected by alteration of
distance.
We have already remarked on the two muscular adapta-
tions of the eye to distance,—the change in the eye-ball by
the operation of the ciliary muscle, for near distances, and
the convergence or divergence of the two eyes, for distances
both near and far. To preserve a distinct image when an
object is brought nearer, we need, by a muscular effort, to
change the curvature of the crystalline lens in each eye, and
to make the lines of sight of the two eyes converge. Both
these efforts are attended with consciousness, and this con-
sciousness mingles with the feelings of altered retinal mag.
238 SENSE OF SIGHT.
nitude, and with dissimilarity of binocular images, when
objects retreat from the eye, or advance toward it; while,
in addition, the optical fact of varying clearness may also
tell, together with the presence or absence of intervening
objects.
17. Visible Movements and Visible Forms in three dimen-
sions ; Volume.—By combining the visible movements across
the field of view with the movements of adjustment—monoc-
ular and binocular—we attain the experience of visible
movements, visible forms, and visible magnitudes, in all the
three dimensions of space; in other words, volume and
solidity, in so far as these are understood by the eye alone.
An object moving aslant requires changes of adjustment
along with the movements of the eyeball, right or left, up or
down ; and its image remains embodied in this more compli-
cated series of movements and optical changes. A row of
houses seen obliquely, needs the same combination. With the
lateral movements of the eye, we must unite adjusting move-
ments, in order to maintain the same distinctness of picture
throughout. These changes of adjustment are repeated and
inverted, along with the other movements, and conspire with
these to give the sense of the co-existing in space, as opposed
to the passing or successive in time.
18. The intellectual imagery derived through the eye
from the forms of still life is co-extensive with the visible crea-
tion. or the purposes of discriminating and of identifying
natural things, and also for the storing of the mind with
knowledge and thought, the sensations of objects of sight are
available beyond any other class. The eye is kept constantly
at work upon the surrounding scene, following the outlines
and windings of form, as these extend in every direction ;
and, by the movements thus stimulated, each sparate object is
distinguished from those that differ in shape, size, or distance,
and identified with itself and those that coincide with it in
these peculiarities. The train of movements for a square are
recognized as distinct from the train that describes an oval:
the outline of a pillar brings on a cycle of motions wholly
INTELLECTUAL COMPASS OF THE EYE. 239
different from those dictated by the figure of a tree. The
property belonging to the mental system of causing to cohere
movements that have been described in succession, fixes the
series for each different view, and gives a permanent hold of
all the distinct forms presented to the eye. This adhesive
process belongs to the intellect, and will be fully treated of
in the proper place.
GH A.P TE Real GT.
OF THE APPETITES.
"i taking up, at this stage, the consideration of the
Appetites, I do not mean to assert that these entirely
bane to our primitive impulses, or that m them the opera-
tion of intellect and experience is excluded. On the contrary,
I am of opinion that Appetite, being a species or form of
Volition, is like all our other effective forms of volition, a
combination of instinct and education. But the process of
acquisition is in this case simple and short; while, on the
other hand, the stimulus to action, or the source of the crav-
ing, is usually one of the sensations or feelings discussed in
the two previous chapters. Indeed, if we look at the craving
alone, without reference to the action for appeasing it, that
craving is merely what we have all along styled the volitional
property of the sensation.
If a spur to action were to prenitie Appetite, all our
pains and pleasures would come under this designation. But
the Appetites commonly considered are a select class of feel-
ings; and are circumscribed by the following property—
namely, that they are the cravings produced by the recurring
wants and necessities of our bodily, or organic life. ‘The
avoiding of a scald, a cut, or a fall, is an energetic impulse of
volition, and yet not a case of appetite; there being no |
periodic or recurring want of the system in these cases.
Sleep, Exercise, Repose, Thirst, Hunger, Sex, are the appetites
most universally present throughout the Animal tribes.
The state termed Desire so far agrees with Appetite, in
being a volitional impulse growing out of some uneasy and
unsatisfied condition. But in Desire, there is a prior expe-
rience of pleasure, the memory of which is the spur to seek a
SLEEP.—EXERCISE AND REPOSE, 24k
renewal ; we desire to return to a tasted delight. This is not
necessary to a mere Appetite; although obviously, after expe-
rience of gratification, all our appetites have also the naa
of Desires. /
2. The fact of periodic recurrence is in no case more strik-
ingly exemplified than in Sleep. After a certain period of
waking activity, there supervenes a powerful sensation of re-
pose. If we give way to it at once, the state of sleep creeps
over us, and we pass through a few moments of agreeable
repose into unconsciousness. If we are prevented from
yielding to the sleepy orgasm, its character as an appetite is
brought out into strong relief. The voluminous uneasiness
that possesses all the muscles and organs of sense, stimulates
a strong resistance to the power that keeps us awake; the
uneasiness and the resistance increasing with the continued
refusal of the permission to sleep, until the condition becomes
intolerable, or until a reaction ensues, which drives off the
drowsiness for some time longer. The overpowering influ-
ence of drowsiness is well seen in infants.
3. The necessity of alternating Lxercise with Repose,
through the entire range of our active organs, brings on the
like periodic cravings and deep-seated uneasiness. The fresh
‘condition of the muscles is of itself a sufficient stimulus to
action ; without any conscious end, in other words, without
our willing it, action commences when the body is refreshed
and invigorated. If this spontaneous outburst is checked, an
intense uneasiness is felt, being one of the conscious states
incident to the muscular system. ‘This state is of the nature
of all the other appetites, and increases with privation, unless,
by some organic change, the fit passes over for the time. The
dog chained up to his couch, the exuberaney of childhood
restrained from bursting out, the bird in its cage, the prisoner
in his cell—experience all the pains and desire of the active
organs for exercise. On the other hand, after exercise, comes
an equally powerful craving and impulse to rest, which, if -
resisted, produces the same intense uneasiness.
Under this head of Exercise and Repose I might include
16
242 THE APPETITES.
the more active of our senses, that is, Touch, Hearing, and
Sight. These senses all embody muscular activity along
with the sensation peculiar to each; and the muscular
activity, together with the tactile, auditory, and visual sen-
sations, lead to weariness of the parts, with a craving for rest ;
while, after due repose, they resume the fresh condition, and
crave for the renewal of their excitement. The alternate
exercise and rest of the senses is in a great measure involved
in the rotation of sleeping and waking; indeed, the invo-
luntary torpor of the nervous system, is almost the only
means of giving repose to such constantly solicited senses as
Sight, Touch, and Hearing.
A similar train of remarks might be extended to the
activity of the thinking organs. But in these, the periodic
cravings are less distinctly marked, and more frequently
erroneous, than in the case of muscular exercise. There is
often a reluctance to engage in thought, when the brain is
perfectly vigorous and able to sustain it; and, on the other
hand, there is, in nervous temperaments, a tendency to excess
of mental action, uncorrected by any regular promptings to
take repose.
The sense of fatigue, arising soon after beginning a
laborious operation, and then disappearing, is connected with
inaction of the brain. A little time is requisite to determine
the flow of blood to the parts exerted.
4, Thirst and Hunger I have already touched upon.
‘What is called thirst is sometimes rather a call for the
cooling influence of cold drinks, as for instance, in the dry,
hot state of the air-passages, mouth, and skin, produced in
fevers by the increased temperature and diminished tur-
gescence of the parts. Exhalation is in such cases often
rather diminished, and the dryness of the surface arises from
the circumstance that although blood still flows through the
capillary vessels, the reciprocal action between the blood and
the living tissues, which is denominated turgescence, or tur-
gor vitalis, is depressed.’—(Miiller, by Baly, p. 530.)
Hunger, unlike Thirst, is a state of the stomach, as yet
HUNGER. 243
not exactly understood; while the feeling of inanition,
which also grows out of long fasting, must be considered as
a general feeling of the system. The urgency of hunger
ought to be in accordance with the actual deficiency of
nutritive material, but very frequently the case is otherwise.
‘It is heightened by cold baths, by friction of the skin, by
friction of the abdomen, and by the agitation to which the
abdomen is subjected in horse exercise, as well as by mus-
cular exertion.’ It is diminished by all nauseating influ-
ences, which probably at the same time weaken the digestion.
‘The local sensations of hunger,’ says Miiller, ‘which are
limited to the digestive organs, and appear to have their seat
in the nervus vagus, are feelings of pressure, of motion, con-
traction, qualmishness, with borborygmi (gripings), and finally
pain.’
In the case of Hunger, as in most of the appetites, there
is a double spur to the taking of food ; first, the stimulus of
uneasiness, and next the impulse arising out of the pleasure
of eating. It is well understood that these two things are
quite different, and on their difference hangs the whole art of
refined cookery. Very plain food would satisfy the craving
for nutrition, but there is a superadded pleasure that we have
to cater for. The one is the appetite in its strictest signifi-
cation, and as found in the lower animals ; the other we may
call a desire, because it supposes the remembrance and anti-
cipation of a positive pleasure, like the desire for music, or
for knowledge.
It is in the process of taking food and drink, that we best
see exemplified the activity springing out of the sensations of
hunger and thirst. The actual assuaging of the uneasiness
produces an intense pleasurable sensation that sets on the
most vigorous movements for being continued and increased ;
while the moving organs themselves, beginning to be invigor-
ated, display a spontaneous and lively energy in the cause.
To bring together, and make to unite, the sensation of the
appeasing of hunger with the acts of sucking, prehension,
masticating, and swallowing, is perhaps the earliest link of
°
24-4 THE APPETITES.
volition established in the animal system. This is the first
case of action for an end, or under the prompting and guid-
ance of a feeling, that the newly-born infant is capable of.
Besides the natural craving for the elements of nutrition
required by the tissues, we may acquire artificial cravings by
the habitual use of certain forms of food, and certain accom-
paniments, as peppers, flavours, &. Thus we have the
alcoholic craving, the craving for animal food, for tea, coffee,
snuff, tobacco, &e.
5. The Appetite that brings the Sexes together is founded
on peculiar secretions which periodically accumulate within
the system, producing a feeling of oppression until they are
either discharged or absorbed; there being a certain intense
pleasure in discharging them for the ends of reproduction.
If we were to place these feelings among Sensations, they
would either form a class apart, or they would fall under the
first class above described, namely, the Sensations of Organic
Life. If the subject were open to full discussion, like the
other feelings of human nature, it might be best to treat them
as an organic sensibility giving birth to a special Emotion.
We have in this case, as in Hunger, both Appetite and Desire ;
but we have also, what does not occur toa like degree in
hunger, a many-sided susceptibility to inflammation,—through
all the senses, through the trains of thought, and through
varlous emotions.
6. The accustomed Routine of life leads to a craving
almost of the nature of Appetite. As the time comes round
for each stated occupation, there is a tendency or bent to
proceed with that occupation, and an uneasiness at being
restrained. So, our appetites properly so called may have
their times of recurrence determined by our customary
periods of gratifying them.
7. All the appetites are liable to be diseased or perverted,
and to give false indications as to what the system needs.
They are likewise liable to artificial and unseasonable inflam-
mation, through the presence of the things that stimulate and
gratify them. In the lower animals, it is assumed, I. know
CORRECTION OF APPETITE, 245
not with what truth, that appetite rarely errs ; in humanity,
error is extremely common. We are apt to crave for warmth
when coolness would be more wholesome ; we crave for food
and drink, far beyond the limits of sutticiency ; we indulge in
the excitement of action when we ought to cultivate rest, or
luxuriate in repose to the point of debility. So doubtful is
the appetite for sleep, that there is still a dispute as to how
much the system requires. Perhaps the complicacy and the
conflicting impulses of the human frame, are the cause of all
this uncertainty and mistake, rendering it necessary for us to
resort to experience and science, and to a higher volition than
appetite, for the guidance of our daily life.
COE GAP Dali ia Delay:
OF THE INSTINCTS.
is iB the foregoing chapters have been enumerated all the
primary modes of consciousness ; we have now to
consider in full the original provision in the human system,
for Action. The name ‘Instinct’ is especially reserved for
what is primitive or primordial on the active side.
More expressly, INSTINCT is defined as the untaught ability
to perform actions of all kinds, and more especially such as
are necessary or useful to the animal. In it a living being
possesses, at the moment of birth, powers of acting of the
same nature as those subsequently conferred by experience
and education. When a newly dropped calf stands up,
walks, and sucks the udder of the cow, we call the actions
instinctive. |
2. In all the three regions of mind,—Feeling, Volition,
ancs Intellect,—there are certain primitive and fundamental
arrangements, which education or acquisition proceeds upon.
A full account of all our instinctive endowments may be
included under the following heads.
1. The heflec Actions.—These are actions withdrawn from
the sphere of mind, and yet having analogies, as well as
contrasts, with proper mental actions.
1. The primitive arrangements for combined and harmo-
nous actions.—The rhythmical acts of walking, flying, swim-
ming, &c., are examples of these. The Will may supply the
stimulus to move, but the harmonious grouping of the move-
ments is, in many instances, provided for among the natural
endowments of the system.
ur. The connexions existing at the outset between Peeling
and its bodily manifestations.
REFLEX ACTIONS. 247
Iv. The instinctive germ of Volition. What we call the
power of the will, has to be traced back, if possible, to some
inborn or primitive stimulus, connecting together our feelings
and our actions, and enabling the one to control the other.
This is perhaps the most delicate inquiry that our science
presents.
The primitive foundations of Intellect, I shall defer till
the whole subject is entered on in the Second Part.
v. The description of the special mechanism of the Vovce,
will receive a place at the conclusion of this chapter, not
having been included in the chapter on Movement,
THE REFLEX ACTIONS.
3. The Reflex, Automatic, or Involuntary actions, are marked
by the absence of the circumstance characterizing voluntary
actions, namely, the stimulus and’ guidance of feeling. Many of
them are essential to animal life. They all demand a nervous
arrangement, consisting of incarrying and outcarrying fibres,
connected by grey matter. Some are maintained by the system
of sympathetic nerves and ganglia, which are the most detached
from the brain or centres of consciousness; others depend on
the spinal cord; a third group are related to the medulla oblon-
gata ; and some are actuated by still higher centres, as the pons
varolit and the corpora quadrigemina. Occasionally the sympa-
thetic ganglia and a portion of the cerebro-spinal masses concur
to the responsive movement.
The Reflex Actions may be distributed under the following
heads.
First, those concerned in the organic processes, and operated
through the involuntary muscles,—being the most widely removed
of all from the mental or voluntary sphere.
The rhythm of the heart is usually counted among reflex
actions, but no precise stimulant can be readily assigned. The
power emanates mainly from the sympathetic system of nerves,
and especially from the ganglia distributed on the heart itself ;
the rhythm continuing for some time, even after removal from
the body. The influence is thus of the nature of regulated or
rhythmical spontaneity, rather than of reflected action. The
248 THE INSTINCTS.
accomplished contraction of one portion of the muscular sub-
stance is the signal for commencing the contraction of another
portion; and no other antecedent can be specified. The mere
contact of the blood with the muscular wall of the organ is not
to be considered a stimulant, such as would give rise to a reflex
act. By galvanizing certain parts of the sympathetic system, in
the neighbourhood of the heart, the beats are accelerated. On
the other hand, by the stimulation of the vagi nerves, the action
is weakened; this is in accordance with a tendency of the
cerebro-spinal nerves to hold in check the influence of the
sympathetic centres. Itis found, however, that the complete
removal of the cerebro-spinal centres has a weakening effect
upon the heart’s action, showing that, on the whole, some contri-
bution to the force of its pulsations is derived from beyond the
confines of the sympathetic system. So, irritation or excite-
ment of the spinal cord of a recently decapitated animal,
increases the force of the heart in common with the intes-
tines and other viscera. While states of mental excitement,
especially of the joyful kind, are accompanied with an improved
tone of the circulation, depressing passions lower it; effects
depending on the comparative energy of the sympathetic and
the cerebro-spinal centres.
Connected with the circulation of the blood, there is also,
what is called, the vaso-motor action ; whereby the smaller arteries,
which possess muscular fibres, are contracted or expanded, so as
greatly to modify the local circulation, The contraction of these
fibres, due to the influence of the sympathetic nerves, diminishes
the bore of the vessels, and lessens the flow of blood to the parts ;
their relaxation widens the bore, and gives an increased flow, with
rise of temperature and quickened action upon the nutrition of
the locality. The permanent contraction, maintained in these
fibres through the influence of the sympathetic centres, is one of
the examples of the spontaneity of muscular energy, and is not a
pure case of reflex stimulation.
Through the vaso-motor agency, the secretions and excretions
are greatly affected by nervous influence; it being uncertain
whether this is the sole instrumentality whereby the processes of
organic life are subjected to the nervous centres.
More clearly reflex are the movements of the intestines. The
whole of the intestinal canal is provided with muscular fibres,
DEGLUTITION. 249
circular and longitudinal, of the unstriated or involuntary species.
By the successive contraction of the circular fibres, aided by the
longitudinal, the food is propelled along the entire course of the
tube, through reflex stimulation. The first stage of the process
commences with Deglutition, or swallowing, which succeeds to
mastication. Of the three steps of deglutition, one is purely
voluntary, being the propulsion of the food, by the concurrence
of the lower jaw, mouth, and tongue, into the bag of the throat,
called the pharynx; from which point the movements are purely
reflex and involuntary. In the second stage, the contact of
the food with the walls of the pharynx brings on the rapid
contraction of the constrictor muscles of the pharynx,
together with the auxiliary operation of the muscular fibres
for raising the palate, and those (called stylo-pharynget) for
drawing the walls of the pharynx upwards. The third stage
of deglutition occurs in the cesophagus, or gullet, whose
circular fibres successively contract in a wave-like manner
from above, downwards; while the longitudinal fibres, drawing
up and widening the tube, facilitate the descent. This peculiar
action, called the vermicular or peristaltic action of the intestines,
is extended through the whole length of the canal. Both the
cerebro-spinal and the sympathetic centres are concerned in
maintaining the action. The stimulus is the contact of the food
and of the various digestive fluids, of which fluids the most effi-
cient is the bile.
This instance exemplifies reflex action in its simplest and most
widely spread form, namely, contact with a surface responded to
by the muscles of the locality. At each point, the food stimulates
the circular and longitudinal fibres of the part touched and those
immediately in the rear, so that the morsel is gradually propelled
in the forward direction. In the pharynx, the action is violent
-and rapid (being under the powerful control of the medulla
oblongata) ; as respiration is intermitted during the act, no time
must be lost; while certain adjoining muscles concur with the
muscles of the pharynx. In the intestine, the action is compara-
tively feeble and slow ; the time of descent of the food along the
small intestine is estimated at about three hours.
Such is the regular course of reflex action in the alimentary
canal. Among occasional and extraordinary stimulations, we
may include the production of diarrhoea and colic by irritating
250 THE INSTINCTS.
substances; which is the same process ina more violent form.
A strong irritation will operate at a distance from the part affected,
as when these derangements of the bowels are brought on, in
infants, from teething. This shows the influence propagated
along the main chain of the sympathetic, instead of being re-
flected from a single point; it being the tendency of all powerful
stimulation to extend its influence. The same tendency is shown
in the other direction, when irritation of the alimentary canal
spreads from the sympathetic ganglia to the cerebro-spinal centres,
and produces, in infants, squinting and convulsions, and, in
adults, epilepsy (through the medulla oblongata).
Among reflex acts, connected with digestion, we have to
include vomiting. The most usual stimulus is the presence of
indigestible, irritating, or poisonous substances in the stomach.
The response necessary to vomiting is somewhat complicated.
The act is proved to occur in two ways. One is by an anti-peri-
staltic movement of the intestine, or by an inversion of the order
of contraction of the muscular fibres. It is conceivable that
violence of irritation may have this effect, not by any specific
nervous connexion, but by mere derangement of the usual rhythm.
Colic and diarrhcea would be varieties of the same deranging
stimulus. In the other mode, which is the one most frequently
observed, the effect arises through the abdominal muscles. This
will be adverted to under the next head.
In the Second class of Reflex Actions, organic processes are
affected, but the instrumentality is the voluntary muscles. The
chief example is respiration, depending chiefly on the medulla
oblongata.
The great muscle of Respiration is the diaphragm, whose
contraction performs the heaviest duty, namely, inspiration or
drawing in breath; while the natural rebound or elasticity of the
chest is the chief cause of expiration. Other muscles aid the
diaphragm in the inspiratory act; and certain muscles, as those
of the abdomen, the internal intercostals, the infracostals, and
the muscles of the back, may co-operate with the elasticity of the
chest, in expiration.
The action consists of a simple rhythm, or alternate contrac-
tion and relaxation of the diaphragm, as the muscle in chief;
while the co-operating muscles, so far as brought into play,
receive, in like manner, an alternated stimulation.
RESPIRATION, 251
Although respiration is adduced as a perfect example of the
reflex process, there is some doubt as to the exact stimulant
employed. The commencing of respiration at birth is said to be
due to the effect of cold—especially in the skin of the face—
transmitted to the medulla oblongata by the nerves of the fifth
pair. We must suppose, however, what everything confirms,
that this nervous centre is itself a very energetic one, waiting
only for the slightest touch to discharge itself with the requisite
vigour. All through life, cold, especially on the face, stimulates
respiration ; even so small an application as the fan, in a heated
room, rallies the weakened action of the lungs.
When respiration is once established, the stimulus is supposed
to emanate from the surface of the lungs, and to be due to the
influence of the venous blood, surcharged with carbonic acid and
other impurities, and devoid of oxygen; but, in the absence either
of decided facts, or of the analogy of a principle, this must be
looked on as conjecture. Granting that there is reflex stimulation
properly so called, we may assume that there is a considerable
spontaneous emanation, modified but not created by stimulants.*
The principal circle of nervous action is by the vagus nerve
(sensitive or incarrying), a small part of the back of the medulla
oblongata, and the spinal accessory nerve (motor) originating
near the vagus. The circle is extended by including the fifth
pair (sensibility of the face); and by the spinal nerves (tactile
* When the sensory nerve distributed to the surface of the lungs is cut
through, the breathing action is weakened, showing that a certain amount of
stimulus is derived from the action going on throughout the surface. If,
farther, the brain is paralyzed by any poison, the respiration is still more
enfeebled, leading us to infer that the brain contributes to the breathing
activity. Dr. Brown-Séquard has been led, by the examination of a great
many cases, to the conclusion that the whole base of the brain is employed
in respiration. He says :—‘ All the facts just mentioned, and many others,
have led me, first, to abandon the view so generally admitted, that the medulla
oblongata is the essential source of the respiratory movements in the nervous
centres ; and, secondly, to propose the view that these movements depend
upon the incito-motory parts of the cerebro-spinal axis, and on the grey matter
which connects those parts with the motor nerves going to respiratory
muscles. The chief stimulus to respiration is the action on the surface of the
lungs, but ‘ excitations from all parts of the body (as by cold, for instance),
and also direct irritations of the base of the brain and of the spinal cord,
almost constantly taking place, contribute to the production of respiratory
movements.’— Lectures, p. 192.
252 THE INSTINCTS.
and motor) all over the body. As above remarked, there is little
complication in the process; the great desideratum is energy of
impulse, following a very simple rhythm. In so far as the
operation can be kept up by the diaphragm alone, it is the
simplest of all arrangements; a mere exertion and remission of
one definite stimulus. The accessory muscles are two opposed
groups, like the flexors and extensors of the body ; and that such
muscles should be stimulated by turns is a consequence of their
being stimulated at all. By the great law of conservation, to be
noticed presently, a process so essentially linked with the vital
energies of the system would extend the compass of the actions
ministering to it, bringing into play remote accessories, as well as
augmenting the power of the principal instrument, the diaphragm.
The breathing apparatus is the’ medium of certain acts, of
occasional occurrence, more decidedly of the reflex character
than the breathing function itself. One noted example is cough-
ing. Although this act is accompanied with a painful sensation,
giving birth to a voluntary impulse, which counts as part of the
case, yet there is a marked concurrence of reflex, in the sense of
involuntary, stimulation. The localities whose irritation makes
us cough are—the glottis, the larynx with the air tubes of the
lungs, and the throat or fauces. The irritants are diseased secre-
tions from the lungs, and from the stomach, passing over those
parts; also solid and liquid substances entering from without, as
when food or drink enters the larynx; irritating gases; and,
lastly, cold air. The first and immediate result of the reflex
stimulus is, by the contraction of the arytenoid muscle, to close
the glottis together with the upper opening of the larynx. The
second act is a violent movement of expiration, such as to force
open the glottis, and clear the passages of the irritating sub-
stances ; the instrumentality being the abdominal and other
muscles auxiliary to expiration.
The more purely reflex operation is probably seen in the first
act, which follows the most general law of reflex stimulation—
the contracting of the muscles of the locality affected. In the
second act, the influence takes a wider sweep, and, through the
medulla oblongata, finds its way, by the respiratory nerves, to
the muscles of augmented expiration. The irritation produces
that peculiarly unendurable feeling called tickling, which, though
not of the ordinary character of acute pain, always prompts to
COUGHING.—SNEEZING.—SUCKING. 253
energetic voluntary movements for getting rid of it. The ex-
planation probably is, that we are made very uncomfortable by
the reflex stimulation engendered through a slight touch of very
sensitive parts. This second act, if not entirely voluntary, is so
in part, and is prompted in the last resort by the self-conserving
tendency, which is the only known source of volition.
Coughing may arise from cold air on the skin, from coldness
of the feet, and from general chillness. In most of these in-
stances, if not in all, there is an intermediate effect of the rise of
phlegm from the lungs or the stomach, the consequence of the
disturbing agency of the cold; so that the irritation of the glottis
or neighbouring parts is still the direct influence.
Sneezing closely resembles coughing, and the two illustrate
each other. The surface affected is the interior of the nose. The
irritants are pungent gases, and foreign substances lodging in the
cavities of the nostrils. The immediate response, parallel to the
closing of the glottis in coughing, would appear to be the closing
of the fauces, so as to divert the breath from the mouth to the
nose. The more conspicuous act consists in a deep and sudden
inspiration, followed by a clearing explosion through the nostrils
by a grand expiratory effort. Some part of the stimulus must be
regarded as voluntary, with a view to deliverance from the tickling
sensation ; for, although a sleeper may be made to sneeze by ad-
ministering snuff or other pungent substance, the consciousness
is awakened preparatory to the act. When too much light, or
the rays of a fire, on the face or head, make one sneeze, there is
probably first a reflex effect, of the vasi-motor kind, producing a
flow of mucus in the nose.
Sucking is a reflex act, passing into the voluntary. The pre-
paratory step is the closing of the lips round the nipple, a purely
reflex process, stimulated by the mere contact. There are certain
concurring adjustments. The tongue is brought forward to the
nipple. In the throat, by means of the palate, uvula, and
posterior pillars of the fauces, the entrance of air to the mouth
through the nose and pharynx is prevented, while respiration is
still possible (by the nose), except at the instant of swallowing.
The act then consists in drawing away the tongue (the air-tight
contact of the lips remaining), so as to produce a partial vacuum
in the mouth, and a consequent in-flow of milk by atmospheric
pressure. The mere withdrawing of the tongue, however, does
254 THE INSTINCTS.
not of itself suffice; this might be done, as any one can test,
without swelling out the closed cavity of the mouth. Hither
there must be a bulging action of the cheeks, through the buccal
muscles, or a momentary inspiration, with the nostrils closed,
which would bring about the needful disturbance of the atmo-
spheric equilibrium.
We have already alluded to the act of vomiting, as per-
formed through the involuntary fibres of the alimentary canal.
More usually and obviously, it takes place through the abdominal
muscles. When the pyloric muscular ring (at the outlet of the
stomach into the duodenum) contracts tightly, while the cardiac
orifice (the entrance to the stomach) is open, the abdominal
muscles, operating powerfully, expel the contents of the stomach
from the mouth. The action is essentially an irregular one; the
due concurrence of all the acts not being provided for by a pre-
conceived arrangement. Sometimes the cardiac fibres are con-
tracted, as well as the pyloric, through the reflex stimulation
of the alimentary canal itself; in that case, the attempts at
vomiting are ineffectual.
In order to procure the aid of the abdominal muscles, the
medulla oblongata must be affected. Hence there is required a
sufficiently powerful stimulation of the pneumo-gastric nerves.
This may be gained by an irritating contact with the surface of
the stomach, the most usual cause of vomiting. The effect may
also arise by tickling the fauces, whence must proceed a very
powerful stimulation to the medulla oblongata, at the point
where the nerves issue to the abdominal muscles. Certain tastes
are called nauseous, from their tendency to excite the stomach to
vomiting ; the nervous agency in this case being the glosso-
pharyngeal nerves, also connected with the medulla oblongata.
Nauseous odours probably operate through the same nerves; the
olfactory track would carry the influence too far about. Certain
sensations, in their origin still more remote from the stomach,
bring on sickness ; as a severe prostrating blow on the shin, the
testicle, or on the eye-ball. The seat of irritation in this case is
the brain, in the first instance, from which an influence is diffused.
to the medulla oblongata. The same may be said of violent
emotion generally, which may lead to sickness. Concussion of the
brain is also a cause. These circumstances would indicate the
result as due to a great loss of cerebral power, and the dis-
STIMULANTS OF THE ORGANIC FUNCTIONS, 255
turbance of some tonic state or balance, permitting a special and
local outflow of stimulus, which the healthy condition holds in
restraint. The case of sea-sickness would readily accord with
the same view.
The aid given to defecation by the abdominal and expiratory
muscles is probably altogether voluntary. Infants seem incap-
able of the effort; in them, accordingly, the reflex peristaltic
movements of the intestines are the expelling instrumentality.
The expulsion of the male semen.is a reflex act operated
through the sensory nerves and the cerebro-spinal centres; the
muscles are of the voluntary species.
In a Third class of Reflex Actions, the organic functions are
affected through the medium of the cerebro-spinal system.
Salivation is controlled by the nerve of taste. A sapid body
entering the mouth causes an increased flow of saliva. The sali-
vary glands are all connected with the sympathetic system of
nerves; the small arteries of the blood-vessels being kept at a
certain point of contraction through the vaso-motor influence of
the sympathetic. To produce an increased flow, the muscular
fibres are relaxed by influence from the sensory nerves, apparently
suspending or diminishing the action of the sympathetic ganglia.
The gastric secretion in the stomach is influenced, probably in the
same way, through the sensory nerve of the stomach, the pneumo-
gastric. So, the flow of milk in the female breast is augmented by
irritating the nipple.
The jlow of tears is increased when a foreign body enters
the eyelids. The same effect is caused by a strong light; also by
irritating the conjunctival, nasal, and lingual branches of the fifth
nerve, all which reflect influence on the sympathetic ganglia.
When the flow is stimulated by the more remote disturbances of
vomiting, violent coughing, laughing, and sobbing, there is pro-
bably an intermediate stimulation of the fibres of the fifth pair.
The flow of tears under pain is a relief from the congestion of
the brain, and may be forced on by that circumstance, and not by
the process last described. The effect of pain is to weaken the
cerebral centres, and give more play to the sympathetic, so that
the regular consequence is exemplified in the arrest of secretion
(as, for example, the saliva and the gastric juice).
The winking of the eye is a reflex act, following the same
stimuli as the flow of tears; namely, the presence of a foreign
256 THE INSTINCTS.
body, the accumulation of watery drops in the eye, and a strong
light. The nerves of the fifth pair are the instrumentality ; and
the centres of influence are partly the sympathetic, partly the
cerebro-spinal (in this instance, probably the medulla oblongata).
The complete and energetic closure of the eye, involving not only
the eyelids, but also the eyebrows, is altogether voluntary.
The movements of the iris are due to the sympathetic system,
controlled by the sensory nerves of the eye-ball, and the motor
nerves of the eye. The iris is contracted under a strong light,
and expanded as the light becomes feeble. If the process be
conducted on the analogy of the foregoing examples, the sympa-
thetic ganglia would.control the radial fibres, which keep the eye
open; the abatement of this control by sensory action would
allow the circular or contracting fibres to operate. It is possible,
besides, that the fibres of the third cerebral nerve proceeding
to the iris may be stimulated by a reflex influence of the light
through some portion of the brain (as the corpora quadrigemina).
In the Fourth, and last, Class of Reflex Actions, muscles,
more or less voluntary, are affected through the cerebro-spinal
centres. Here we have an approximation to proper voluntary
acts; the stimulant in all cases being accompanied with sensa-
tion, and the movement being such as the will could execute..
The first case that we shall mention is the contraction of the
ciliary muscle, in the adjustment of the eye to near vision. This
action, without our consciously willing or wishing it, succeeds to
the feeling of indistinctness of the picture when anything is
brought nearer to us. Consentaneous with the act, are the nar-
rowing of the pupil and the convergence of the eyes; all the
three adjustments co-operating to the distinct vision of near
objects. The nerve for regulating the ciliary muscle is supposed
to be a branch of the third pair; the contraction of the iris may
be due to the same nerve, which likewise governs the conver-
gence of the eyes, through the internal rectus muscle. The
nervous centre more immediately concerned is the anterior pair
of the corpora quadrigemina, stimulated through the optic nerve.
The muscles of the tympanum are controlled in a manner
analogous to the adjusting muscles of the eye. The analogy
extends to the mixed supply of nerves; those for the tensor
tympani being derived from the sympathetic (like the radial
fibres of the iris) ; those for the stapedius, from the fifth cranial
REFLEX MOVEMENTS OF THE SENSES. 257
nerve. On the theory of the action of these muscles that accords
with the above analogy, the tensor tympani tightens both the
membrane of the tympanum and the membranes of the foramina
of the inner ear, under the influence of the sympathetic ganglia,
and renders the ear susceptible, in the highest degree, to sound,
like the radial fibres of the iris widening the pupil to the utmost.
The feeling of sound in excess would then operate to relax those
parts, by the stapedius muscle, which is stimulated through the
facial (motor) nerve.
Under the same head we may place the reflex movements of
the Senses generally. By these are understood the special move-
ments of the organ itself, as distinct from the more diffused wave
of influence accompanying lively sensation. Thus, an object
placed in the hand specially stimulates the muscles that bend the
fingers, besides producing the more distant effects associated with
a sensation as a fact of consciousness. The effect may be seen in
any one asleep. A bad smell affects specially the muscles of the
nose; a bitter taste brings on wry movements of the mouth.
The word ‘ Reflex,’ as applied to the actions now considered,
needs to be specially guarded and explained. It is employed in
cases where its obvious meaning is absent, and withheld in others
where that meaning is present.*
The notion plainly attached to the word is a circle of influence,
wherein there can be distinctly shown an outer or peripheral
stimulation, conveyed by incarrying nerves to a ganglionic centre,
and bringing on, by way of response, certain movements. The
stimulation may be unconscious, as in the intestines, or conscious,
as in the adjustment of the eye. The distinction is an important
one; it marks out two grades of the effect, a lower and a higher;
and distinct names have been employed to express the two—the
phrase excito-motor being applied to the first, and sensori-motor to
the second.
But it has been very properly remarked, that actions of the
highest order of combined volition and intelligence may have
* The term ‘automatic’ is used as a synonym, or asa substitute, for
‘reflex,’ but with still less aptness for the purpose. It would serve to indi-
cate the spontaneous activity, and that alone. With proper cautions and
explanations, the name ‘ reflex’ is the most suitable that has yet been pro-
posed. ‘Involuntary,’ although applicable to the class (allowance being
made for a margin of transition), is too wide in its meaning.
17
258 THE INSTINCTS.
this reflected character. Any one promptly answering a ques-
tion, exemplifies a reflex operation, so far as the general meaning
is concerned. But such cases are not included among the so-called
Reflex actions, these being set in marked contrast to voluntary
actions of every kind.
Again, there are included in the class certain effects that are
obviously wanting in the peculiarity implied in the name ‘reflex.’
Thus, we have seen that there are many movements due solely or
mainly to central influence,—the so-called spontaneous move-
ments; with regard to which, either no peripheral stimulus can
be assigned, or the stimulus is insignificant compared with the
energy of the response, an energy rising and falling with the
physical condition of the central grey masses. The convulsive
movements in certain ailments, as hydrophobia, hysteria, chorea,
epilepsy, tetanus, &c., must be due to diseased changes in the
condition of the nervous centres. These are involuntary move-
ments, but they are not, strictly speaking, reflex. We may give
a similar account of yawning; which is probably due to the
unequal subsidence of the nervous action, disturbing the balance
of the muscular tension. It would be a very forced supposition,
to bring it under the literal meaning of reflex action.
In the enumeration of Reflex Actions, there is often included
a group of effects distinct from any of the foregoing, namely,
those typified by laughter, cries, sobbing, sighing, starting,
fidgets, &c. These have been sometimes styled sensori-motor,
because they are at the instance of sensations. This circumstance,
however, does not show their real characteristic. They are, in my
opinion, more aptly brought under emotional diffusion, expression,
or embodiment. very conscious state is accompanied with a
diffused wave of effects, muscular and organic, which are stronger
according as the feeling is more intense. Pleasing emotions are
attended with one class of manifestations,—the smile, for ex-
ample ; states of pain with a different class. The leading emotions
of the mind—Wonder, Fear, Love, Anger, &c.—have each a
characteristic and well known embodiment or display.
These movements incorporated in our constitution as a por-
tion of the very fact of being conscious (we are often said to be
‘moved,’ when it is only meant that an impression is made on
the mind), may be called ‘sensori-motor,’ inasmuch as a sensa-
tion, when sufficiently powerful, always visibly stimulates them,
GENERAL PRINCIPLE OF REFLEX ACTION. 259
rendering them, as it were, the return or response of the outward
impression. ‘They may also be styled ‘reflex,’ for the very same
reason. They are, farther, ‘involuntary’ movements, being
quite distinct from our volitional acts. But they are far from
being unconscious: they are, if I am not mistaken, inseparable
from consciousness, being entwined with the conscious condition
in the mechanism of our frame. When consciousness is feebly
excited, so are they,—so feebly that no visible manifestation
results; when a stronger excitement is applied, they are roused
in proportion. Inacultivated shape, they make the gesticulation
and display that constitutes the usual expression or natural
language of feeling, which no man and no people is devoid of,
while some nations show it in a remarkable degree. The
painter, sculptor, poet, actor, seize hold of these movements as
the basis of artistic forms; and the interest of the human pre-
sence is greatly dependent on them, and on the attributes that
result from them.
Confining ourselves to the strictly Reflex Actions, whether
excito-motor, or sensori-motor, and omitting central spontaneity,
emotional diffusion, and voluntary actions properly so called, we
may now endeavour to generalize the facts, or to assign the most
comprehensive laws at present attainable with regard to this pro-
cess of the animal economy.
I. We trace one comprehensive arrangement, of wide preva-
lence throughout the animal kingdom, namely, the connexion
between a peripheral stimulus and the movement of the part
affected. This is the simplest and the most generalized type of
the nervous system, demanding a circle made up of incarrying
fibres, a central ganglion, and outcarrying fibres to the muscles
of the same locality. In the lowest creatures possessing a
nervous system, the structure and the function are as now
described. The fixed mollusk responds to a contact by a move-
ment contracting its body. In the experiments on decapitated
animals, irritation of the foot is followed by retracting or else
throwing out the limb.
Notwithstanding the higher complications super-imposed upon
this simple arrangement, it is shown, almost pure, in many of
the actions above described. The peristaltic movements of the
intestines appear to be governed mainly by the contact with the
part of the gut actually in movement. It is the same in the
260 THE INSTINCTS.
pharynx and cesophagus, and also in the rectum. In coughing,
sneezing, and sucking, the first stage is a reflex stimulation to
the muscles of the parts irritated. In the operation of the several
senses, there is a reflex stimulus of the same character, although
usually disguised and overpowered by the wider and more potent
influences, respectively called emotional and volitional.
We may readily speculate upon the mode of action in these
simple reflex circles. The peripheral stimulation is either simple
contact, as in the touch of a solid body, or contact with absorp-
tion of material fitted to act on the nerves. In both cases a
muscular disturbance of the nerves takes place, which is propa-
gated to the ganglia, and there re-inforced by the more active
changes occurring in the grey corpuscular matter ; whence arises
a molecular movement in the outgoing or motor nerves. . It is
not every stimulation, however, that imparts or evolves molecu-
lar activity ; some stimulants, as cold, under certain circum-
stances, tend to lower, reduce, or destroy activity already existing.
The most potent stimuli, as we might expect, are nutritive ma-
terials, and substances that, by combining with oxygen, or in other
ways, generate force. The rise of temperature, in its direct or
immediate consequences, contributes molecular power.
II. One step above the simplest reflex movement, is the
alternation of two movements, carrying the same part to and fro.
Wherever an organ is fitted with an opposing pair of muscles,
both these have a connexion with the ganglion related to the
part ; both receive outcarrying fibres, and the local stimulus will
excite movements in both; which movements, however, being
opposed, must alternate with one another. It is an incident of
such a situation that the muscles should fall into a reciprocating
movement, and establish a nervous track inclining to this recip-
rocation; so much so, that the completed contraction of one,
without any other stimulus, is an occasion of beginning a con-
traction of the other. The alternating contraction of opposing
pairs, whether in joint response to a peripheral stimulation, or as
a result of mere spontaneity, or, lastly, as a consequence of re-
mote nervous instigation, is a fact of very wide generality, and is
the least possible remove from the simple reflex circuit supposed
in the foregoing paragraph.
II]. The next advance in complexity is shown in the con-
currence of several distinct movements in one act. Such a con-
CONSCIOUSNESS PRESENT IN SOME REFLEX ACTIONS. 261
currence is required in deglutition, in sucking, in coughing, in
forcible inspiration, in the adjustment of the eyes, and in loco-
motion. The regulating circumstance of the united action is the
furtherance of some end in the economy. We know by what
means combined movements are acquired, in ordinary education ;
namely, by tentatives under the guidance of the desired effect.
IV. The self-adjusting power now hinted at (to be afterwards
fully elucidated in connexion with the Will) may be traced in the
inferior region we have been considering. The supply of nutri-
tion or other stimulus gives birth to molecular force, ending in
muscular movement; which movement, in many circumstances,
furthers the nutritive or other contact, and is thereby still further
stimulated; as when the shell-fish in the sea opens its mouth to
the water containing its food.
In several of the reflex actions above described, consciousness
is usually present ; as coughing, sneezing, sucking, the increased
respiratory activity from cold, the reflex action of the senses,
and the special adjustments of the ear and the eye. In so far as
these actions arise during sleep, they may be regarded as inde-
pendent of consciousness. But in some, consciousness is a part
of the case; the object of them is, not to respond to a physical
stimulation, but to remove an uneasiness; such are winking, and
the adjustments of the eye to vision, and of the ear to sound.
An obscure sense of discomfort is the antecedent circumstance in
winking. To all these cases, we must apply the fundamental
law of the will; they contain the essential fact of volition.
They differ from the more usual forms of voluntary action, only
in not engrossing our attention ; we may be occupied with other
matters while they are taking place. In this respect, they
resemble actions in the stage of consummated habit.
Yet it is impossible to overlook the great resemblance to the
course of voluntary action in those inferior reflex processes,
commonly accounted devoid of consciousness. They are usually,
although not always or necessarily, pointed’ to the conservation
of the individual, which is the foundation circumstance of con-
scious and voluntary action. When several movements are
united in one act, as in sucking, it is the better to answer some
function of preservation.
We may not be able to draw a sharp line between the reflex
involuntary and the voluntary: the two may shade into one
262 THE INSTINCTS.
another by insensible degrees; and a common fact or tendency
of the system may be at the foundation of both.
THE PRIMITIVE COMBINED MOVEMENTS.
4, Of the primitive combined movements, in the human
subject, the leading example is the locomotive rhythm. The
instinctive character of locomotion, so obvious in the inferior
animals, is less apparent in ourselves, seeing that the power
of walking is not possessed by us until about a year after
birth. Nevertheless, there are certain strong presumptions
in favour of an original endowment entering into our aptitude
for locomotion.
(1.) The analogy of the inferior quadrupeds countenances
the probability of a locomotive rhythm in the human
limbs. The community of structure of the vertebrate type
is sufficiently close, to involve such a deep peculiarity of
the nervous system as this. What nature has done for the
calf, towards one of the essential accomplishments of an
animal, is not unlikely to be done in some degree for man.
To equip a creature for walking erect would doubtless be far
more difficult, and might surpass the utmost limits of the
primitive structural arrangements ; but seeing that the very
same alternation of limb enters into both kinds, and that
nature gives this power of alternation in the one case, we
may fairly suppose that the same power is given in the other
also.
(2.) It is a matter of fact and observation, that the alter-
nation of the lower limbs is instinctive in man. I appeal to
the spontaneous movements of infancy as the proof. Mark
a child jumping in the arms, or lying on its back kicking ;
observe the action of the two legs, and you will find that the
child shoots them out by turns with great vigour and rapidity.
Notice also when it first puts its feet to the ground; long
before it can balance itself, you may see it alternating the
limbs to a full walking sweep. Only in virtue of this instinc-
tive alternation is walking so soon possible to be attained.
THE LOCOMOTIVE RHYTHM. 263
No other combination equally complex could be acquired at
the end of the first year. Both a vigorous spontaneous im-
pulse to move the lower limbs, and a rhythmical or alternating
direction given to this impulse, are concerned in this very
early acquisition. Let the attempt be made to teach a child
to walk sidewaysat the same age, and we should entirely fail
for want of a primitive tendency to commence upon.
(3.) It has been already seen, that the cerebellum is pro-
bably concerned in the maintenance of combined or co-ordi-
nated movements. We have proof that these movements
can be sustained without the cerebral hemispheres, but hardly
without the cerebellum. Now, that the cerebellum should be
well developed in man, and yet not be able to effect those
harmonized arrangements found in the inferior vertebrata, is
altogether improbable.
Unless some mode of invalidating these facts can be
pointed out, the reasonable conclusion will be, that there is in
the human subject a pre-established adaptation for locomotive
movements, which adaptation we shall now attempt to analyze.
5. First, it involves the reciprocation or vibration of the
limb. Confining ourselves to one leg, we can see that this
swings back and fore like a pendulum, implying that there is
a nervous arrangement, such that the completed movement
forward sets on the commencing movement backward, and
conversely. ‘The two antagonist sets of muscles concerned
in walking, are chiefly members of the two great general
divisions of flexor and extensor muscles. Every moving
member must have two opposing muscles or sets of muscles
attached to it, and, between these, the limb is moved to
and fro at pleasure. There is obviously an organized con-
nexion between antagonist muscles generally, so as to give
spontaneously a swinging or reciprocating movement to the
parts ; in other words, when any member is carried to its full
swing in one direction, there is an impulse generated and
diffused towards the opposing muscles, to bring it back, or
carry it in the other direction. Of course this reaction will be
most strongly brought out, on occasions when the commencing
264 THE INSTINCTS.
movement takes a wide and energetic sweep. Thus in a
swing of the arm carried up so as to point perpendicularly
upward, we may discern an impulse in the opposing muscles
to come into play in order to bring it down. Every swing-
ing motion, whether of arm, leg, trunk, head, jaw, if not
entirely due to volition, which it would be difficult to prove,
must be supported by an arrangement of the nature now
described.*
In walking, there is also, of course, a pendulous swing of
the leg, arising out of mere mechanical causes. Like any
other body hanging loose, the leg is really and truly a pen-
* On the antagonism of muscular movements generally, I quote the
following statements from Miiller :—
‘There are groups of muscles opposed to each other in their action in
almost all parts of the body. The extremities have flexors and extensors,
supinators and pronators, abductors and adductors, and rotators inwards and
rotators outwards. Frequently the opposed groups of muscles have different
nerves. ‘Thus the flexors of the hand and fingers derive their nervous fibrils
from the median and ulnar nerves; the extensors theirs from the radial
nerve; the flexors of the fore-arm are supplied by the musculo-cutaneous ;
the extensors by the radial nerve. The crural nerve supplies the nervous
fibres for the extensors of the leg; the ischiadic those for the flexors. The
perineal muscles, which raise the outer border of the foot, derive their
nervous fibres from the perineal nerve ; the tibialis posticus, which raises the
inner border of the foot, is supplied by the tibial nerve. The circumstance
of the convulsive motions in affections of the spinal cord being frequently
such as to curve the body in a particular direction, shows that there must be
something in the disposition of the nervous fibres in the central organs which
facilitates the simultaneous excitement to action of particular sets of muscles,
as the flexors, or extensors, &c.; although Bellingeri’s opinion, that the
anterior columns of the spinal cord serve for the motions of flexion, the
posterior for those of extension, is based on no sufficient facts. Too much
importance, however, must not be given to the above remark relative to
distinct nerves supplying the different groups of muscles; it is not a constant
fact. Sometimes the same nerve gives branches to muscles opposed in action ;
the ninth, or hypo-glossal nerve, supplies both the muscles which draw the
hyoid bone forwards, and one muscle which retracts it; the perineal nerve
supplies the perineal muscles, which raise the outer border of the foot, and
the tibialis anticus, which opposes this motion. Antagonist muscles can,
moreover, be most easily made to combine in action ; thus the perineal muscles
and the anterior tibial, acting together, raise the foot. The flexor carpi
radialis and the extensor carpi radialis can combine so as to abduct the
hand.’—p. 925.
ALTERNATING MOVEMENT OF THE LIMBS. 265
dulum, and when thrown back begins to move forward of its
own accord. Again, the extensor muscles, which maintain the
body in an erect position, are antagonized by the weight
of the parts ; hence in dancing up and down, the downward
movement may take place by simply relaxing the tension of
the supporting muscles. In the same manner, the jaw tends
to drop of its own accord.
6. Secondly, there is implied in locomotion, an alternate
movement of corresponding limbs, or an alternation of the
two sides of the body. After one leg has made its forward
sweep, an impulse has to be given to the other leg to commence
a movement in the same course. ‘The two sides of the body
must be so related, that the full stretch of the muscles of the
one side originates a stimulus to those of the other. Nothing
less would suffice to enable a new-born calf to walk. The
alternation between the right and left legs, both fore and hind,
must be firmly established in the animal’s organization by a
proper arrangement of the nerves and nerve centres. And if
the power of walking in human beings be assisted by primi-
tive impulses and arrangements, this specific provision is
necessarily implied.
The alternation of the two sides in locomotion extends
beyond the muscles of the limbs; the whole trunk and head
sway in harmony with the members, both in quadrupeds and
in man.
There are some important exceptions to this alternating
arrangement; but these are of a kind to place in a stronger
light the examples of it now quoted. The two eyes are made
to move together, and never alternate. This arrangement is
the most prominent, but not the only, example of assoczated
simultaneous movements. It has, doubtless, to do with the
unity and singleness of the act of vision. Moreover, if we
observe the early movements of the arms in children, we
shall find in them more of the tendency to act together than
to alternate; showing, as we might otherwise infer, that the
impulse of alternation of the limbs is not so deep-seated an
instinct in man as in quadrupeds. In like manner, the move-
°66 THE INSTINCTS.
ments of the features are, for the most part, the same on both
sides of the face.
7. Thirdly. The locomotion of animals moving on all
fours suggests a further necessity of primitive adjustment.
It is requisite that there should be some provision for keep-
ing the fore and hind legs in proper relation and rhythm.
Something of the nature of the vermicular movement (that is,
the locomotion of worms), or the movements of the alimen-
tary canal, needs to be assumed in this case. Such a con-
nexion must exist between the fore and hind segments, in
order that the movements of the one may stimulate in suc-
cession the movements of the other, by a nervous propagation
along the spinal cord to the cerebellum, or other centre go-
verning the primitive rhythmical motions. In the crawling
of reptiles, it is obvious that the muscular contraction in one
segment or circle, must yield a stimulus to a nerve in con-
nexion with the next circle, which is made to contract in
consequence, and furnish a stimulus to the third, and so on
through the whole line of the body: the action of the intes-
tines being almost the same. Ina dog, we see the move-
ment of the limbs propagated to the tail. Each species of
animal has its particular formula of ordering the legs in
walking, determined, it may be, in part by the shape of the
body, but duly transmitted in the breed as a property of its
structure. ‘lhe shamble of the elephant represents one spe-
cies of rhythm; while the horse can pass through all the
varieties of walk, gallop, and canter. In climbing, too, the
alternation and the propagation both come into play as helps.
In swimming, both are likewise apparent.
8. I must now mention more particularly the associated
or consensual movements, or those that are so connected as
to occur together. The most perfect example of this is in vision.
In order to make the two eyes act together, the corresponding
muscles of each must be simultaneously excited by the nerves.
The following are the facts connected with this interesting
case. I quote from Miiller.
‘Some of the most remarkable facts illustrating the association
PRIMITIVE SIMULTANEOUS MOVEMENTS. 267
and antagonism of muscular actions, are presented by the muscles
which move the eyes. The corresponding branches of the third,
or motor oculi, nerve of the two sides have a remarkable innate
tendency to consensual action, a tendency which cannot be
ascribed to habit. The two eyes, whether moved upwards,
downwards, or inwards, must always move together; it is quite
impossible to direct one eye upwards and the other downwards
at the same time. This tendency to consensual action is evi-
denced from the time of birth; it must therefore be owing to
some peculiarity of structure at the origins of the two nerves.
The association in action of the corresponding branches of the
two nervi motores oculi, renders the absence of such tendency to
consensual motion in the two external recti muscles and the
sixth nerves more striking. We do, it is true, in a certain
measure cause the two external recti muscles to act together
when we restore the two eyes, of which the axes are converging,
to the parallel direction; but there the power of consensual
action ends; the two eyes can never be made to diverge, however
great the effort exerted todo so. There is an innate tendency
and irresistible impulse in the corresponding branches of the
third nerve to associate action; while in the sixth nerves not
only is this tendency absent, but the strong action of one of
these nerves is incompatible with the action of the other. These
innate tendencies, in the third and sixth nerves, are extremely
important for the functions of vision: for if, in place of the
sixth nerves, the external recti muscles had received each a
branch of the third nerve, it would have been impossible to
make one of these muscles act without the other; one eye, for
example, could not have been directed inwards while the other
was directed outwards, so as to preserve the parallelism, or con-
vergence of their axes; but they would necessarily have diverged
when one rectus externus had been made to act voluntarily. To
render possible the motion of one eye inwards, while the other
is directed outwards, the external straight muscles have received
nerves which have no tendency to consensual action. In conse-
quence, however, of the tendency in the two internal straight
muscles to associate motion, it is necessary when one eye is
directed inwards and the other outwards, that the contraction of
the rectus externus of the latter should be so strong as to over-
come the associate action of the rectus internus of the same eye ;
268 THE INSTINCTS.
and in the effort to direct one eye completely outwards, we
actually feel this stronger contraction of the external rectus.
These considerations enable us to understand perfectly the
hitherto enigmatical fact that, in all vertebrata, the external
rectus muscle receives a special nerve. —(p. 929.)
The author then goes on to show the relation of the
corresponding oblique muscles to each other, and the similar
reason there is for having a distinct nerve to the superior
oblique or trochlear muscle.
An association exists between the adjustment of the iris
and the other movements of the eye; thus, whenever the eye
is voluntarily directed inwards, the iris contracts. Hence
the fact already stated, that the iris is contracted during
near vision. 3
Miiller also remarks that ‘the motions very prone to be
associated involuntarily, are those of the corresponding parts
of the two sides of the body. The motions of the irides, of
the muscles of the ear, of the eyelids, and of the extremities,
in the attempt to effect opposed motions, are examples of
such associations.” Ihave already remarked that this coin-
cidence of movements on the two sides, co-exists, in the
case of the limbs at least, with an organization for an alter-
nating motion.
The same author further observes, that ‘the less perfect
the action of the nervous system, the more frequently do
associated members occur. It is only by education, that we
acquire the power of confining the influence of volition, in
the production of movements, to a certain number of nervous
fibres issuing from the brain. An awkward person, in per-
forming one voluntary movement, makes many others, which
are produced involuntarily by consensual nervous action.’
(p. 928.) ‘This, however, introduces much larger considera-
tions, involving the whole mechanism of emotion and
volition.
9. There are various appearances that suggest the ex-
istence of a law of general harmony of state throughout the
muscular system. In stretching the lower limbs, we feel at
HARMONY OF STATE OF THE MOVEMENTS GENERALLY. 269
the same time an impulse to stretch the arms, the trunk, the
head, and the features, or to put in action the whole class of
extensor or erector muscles. The act of yawning propagates
a movement over the whole body. I cannot positively affirm
that this may not be explained by similarity of state produc-
ing everywhere a similar impulse, but the appearances are
more in favour of a harmony of condition produced through
the nervous system. When the eye is gazing attentively
on an object, the whole body is spontaneously arrested, the
features are fixed, the mouth is open; and the same har-
monizing fixity is observed in the act of listening. So, a
movement in one part propagates itself to other parts, un-
less a special check is maintained ; the movements of the
eye excite the whole body. Vocal utterance brings on gesti-
culation. The pace of movement is also rendered harmoni-
ous. Rapid movements of the eye from exciting spectacles
make all the other movements rapid. Slow speech is accom-
panied by languid gestures. In rapid walking (before the
exercise has a derivative effect on the brain), the thoughts
are quickened.
These movements are to be ranked among the primitive
impulses that serve the useful ends of the animal; they count
among the practical instincts now under discussion. They
cause the animal to come into harmony with the circum-
stances that surround it,—to be quiet when the scene is still,
to start up and join when others are stirring.
This property imparts character to individuals. A person
is either slow or vivacious, generally ; the cast of movement
is the same in all organs, in action and in thought.. From it
arises, likewise, a means of rousing and controlling the actions,
thoughts, and passions, of men and animals,
In the cries of human beings and animals, which is a
part of the expression of feeling, there is a primitive combi-
nation or concurrence of movements, remarkable for its uni-
formity. The tension of the vocal cords, through the laryngeal
muscles, the forced expiration, and the adjustment of the
mouth, are united in the same act. Possibly these are con-
270 THE INSTINCTS.
curring effects of the emotional wave, or the diffused stimulus
of strong feeling, to be noticed presently.
10. There are certain cases, where one sense can appa-
rently act for another, previous to experience, as when an
animal detects wholesome or unwholesome food by the smell,
before tasting it. That the sense of taste should inform
us of what is good for digestion (which it does to an im-
perfect degree in the human subject), is not surprising,
seeing that, in the mouth, the alimentary canal is already
commenced ;’ we feel more difficulty in discovering how
smell should have this power of anticipating digestion and
nutrition.
The effluvia that bodies emit to the nostrils, may be a
specimen or representative of their substance as applied to
the stomach, and may have something of a like effect on the
nervous system. We know that the smell of putridity causes
loathing and disgust, and that an attempt to eat such material
would only complete the effect already begun ; while, on the
other hand, substances that have a sweet or fresh flavour, would
in all probability be free from nausea in the stomach.
On the general fact of one sense acting for another by
way of warning or invitation, it is to be remarked that a deep
harmony appears to exist among the different senses, in con-
sequence of which we apply common epithets to the objects
of all of them. Thus, the effect we call ‘freshness,’ deter-
mined by the stimulus of the lungs, the digestion, or the
general nervous tone, arises in several of the senses. The
difficulty is to find the same external olyect, acting in the
same manner upon two or more of them, as in the case of
discerning food by the sight, or by the smell. I am of opin-
ion that these coincidences, recognized before experience,
are very few in number, and that the great safeguard of
animals lies in making the direct experiment of eating what
comes in their way, and in deciding according to the feel-
ings that result therefrom.*
* It is a fact that lambs commence eating, not the short tender grass,
but the long and dried tops.
TRANSFERENCE OF SENSATIONS, 271
Among concurrences in Sensation, there may also be noticed
the facts known as the transference, radiation, and reflexion of
sensations. Reference has already been made (Reriex Actions,
p. 250) to the tendency of violent nervous stimulation to extend
its sphere into collateral tracks. There are certain cases of
definite and uniform transference of the seat of a sensation to a
distant locality. In disease of the hip, the pain is felt in the
knee ; when the kidney is the seat of irritation the feeling of
pain may be localized in the heel; certain diseases of the brain
are accompanied with pains in the limbs (Marshall’s Physiology,
Vol. L., p. 347).
THE INSTINCTIVE PLAY OF FEELING.
11. In following out our present object, which is to pass
in review all that is primitive among the sensibilities and the
activities of the mental system, we shall next consider the
instinctive or original mechanism for the expression of
Feeling.* It is well known that some of the most con-
spicuous among the manifestations of human feeling, as
Laughter and Tears, belong to us from our birth. Education
here finds work in repressing original impulses, no less than
in imparting new and artificial forms of emotional display.
It will be instructive to quote the section devoted to this
subject in Miiller’s Physiology. The professed title of the
section is, Movements due to the Passions of the Mind.
* T have already referred (see p. 258), to the general law which I believe
connects together emotion, or feeling, and those physical activities of the
frame known as the expression or manifestation of feeling. The movements
and display caused by mental excitement have been commonly regarded as
merely incidental to certain of the stronger feelings, and little attention has
been paid to them in the scientific consideration of the mind. For my own
part, however, I look upon these active gestures as a constituent part of the
complex fact of consciousness, in every form and variety. I do not say but
we may have feelings that do not give rise to any visible stir of the
active members, either in consequence of voluntary suppression, or because
the diffused stimulus is too weak to overcome the inertia of the parts to be
moved,—but I mean to affirm that with feeling there always is a freely
diffused current of nervous activity, tending to produce movements, gesture,
expression, and all the other effects described in the course of the next few
pages.—See ‘The Emotions and the Will,’ Emotions, Chap. I., § 2.
272 THE INSTINCTS.
‘It is principally the respiratory portion of the nervous
system which is involuntarily excited to the production of mus-
cular actions by passions of the mind. Here again we see that
any sudden change in the state of the brain, propagated to the
medulla oblongata, immediately causes a change of action in the
respiratory muscles, through the medium of the respiratory
nerves, including the respiratory nerve of the face. There are
no data for either proving or refuting the hypothesis, that the
passions have their seat of action in a particular part of the
brain, whence their effects might emanate. But these effects are
observed to be transmitted im all directions* by the motor
nervous fibres, which, according to the nature of the passion, are
either excited or weakened in action, or completely paralyzed
for the time.
‘The exciting passions give rise to spasms, and frequently
even to convulsive motions affecting the muscles supplied by the
respiratory and facial nerves. Not only are the features dis-
torted, but the actions of the respiratory muscles are so changed
as to produce the movements of crying, sighing, and sobbing.
Any passion of whatever nature, if of sufficient intensity, may
give rise to crying and sobbing. Weeping may be produced by
joy, pain, anger, or rage. During the sway of depressing pas-
sions, such as anxiety, fear, or terror, all the muscles of the body
become relaxed, the motor influence of the brain and spinal cord
being depressed. The feet will not support the body, the features
hang as without life, the eye is fixed, the look is completely
vacant and void of expression, the voice feeble or extinct. Fre-
quently the state of the feelings under the influence of passion is
of a mixed character ; the mind is unable to free itself from the
depressing idea, yet the effort to conquer this gives rise to an
excited action of the brain. In these mixed passions the expres-
sion of relaxation in certain muscles,—in the face, for example,—
may be combined with the active state of others, so that the
features are distorted, whether in consequence merely of the
antagonizing action of the opposite muscles being paralyzed, or
by a really convulsive contraction. Frequently also, both in the
mixed and the depressing passions, some muscles of the face are
affected with tremors. The voluntary motion of a muscle half
* Italics mine.
NERVES OF EXPRESSION OF THE FEATURES. 273
paralyzed by the influence of passion is frequently of a tremulous
character, in consequence of its being no longer completely under
the influence of the will. We experience this particularly in the
muscles of the face, when, during the sway of a depressing or
mixed passion, we endeavour to excite them to voluntary action ;
the muscles of the organ of voice also, under such circumstances,
tremble in their action, and the words attempted to be uttered
are tremulous.
‘ The nerve most prone to indicate the state of the mind during
passion is the facial ;* it is the nerve of physiognomic expression,
and its sphere of action becomes more and more limited in different
animals, in proportion as the features lose their mobility and ex-
pressive character. In birds, it has no influence on the expression
of the face ; those only of its branches exist which are distributed
to the muscles of the hyoid bone and the cutaneous muscle of the
neck ; and the erection of the skin of the neck, or, in some birds,
of the ear feathers, is in them the only movement by which the
facial nerve serves to indicate the passions. Next to the facial,
the respiratory nerves,— those of the internal organs of respira-
tion, the laryngeal and phrenic nerves,t as well as those of the
external thoracic and abdominal muscles—are most susceptible of
the influence of the passions. But when the disturbance of the
feelings is very intense, all the spinal nerves become affected, to
the extent of imperfect paralysis, or the excitement of trembling
of the whole body.
‘The completely different expression of the features in different
passions shows that, according to the kind of feeling excited, en-
tirely different groups of the fibres of the facial nerve are acted
on. Of the cause of this we are quite ignorant.
‘The disturbed action of the heart during mental emotions is a
remarkable instance of the influence of the passions over the move-
ments of organs supplied by the sympathetic nerve.’—p. 932-4.
12. With regard to the Movements of the Face, Sir Charles
* ‘The facial nerve is the motor nerve of the face. It is distributed to
the muscles of the ear and of the scalp; to those of the mouth, nose, and
eyelids ; and to the cutaneous muscles of the neck.’
+ The laryngeal nerves are distributed to the different parts of the larynx,
and are, therefore, instrumental. in stimulating the voice. The phrenic, or
diaphragmatic nerve, is the special nerve of the diaphragm.
18
274 THE INSTINCTS.
Bell is of opinion, that many of them are secondary to the
movements of respiration, He regards the heart and the
lungs as the great primary sources of expression—the organs
first affected by the emotional excitement of the brain.
He calls attention to ‘the extent of the actions of respiration ;
the remoteness of the parts agitated in sympathy with the heart.
The act of respiration is not limited to the trunk; the actions of
certain muscles of the windpipe, the throat, the lips, the nostrils,
are necessary to expand those tubes and openings, so that the air
may be admitted through them in respiration with a freedom
corresponding to the increased action of the chest. Without this,
the sides of these pliant tubes would fall together, and we should
be suffocated by exertion or passion. Let us consider how many
muscles are combined in the single act of breathing—how many
are added in the act of coughing—how these are changed and
modified in sneezing ;—let us reflect on the various combinations
of muscles of the throat, windpipe, tongue, lips, in speaking and
singing,* and we shall be able justly to estimate the extent of the
muscles which are associated with the proper or simple act of
dilating and compressing the chest. But how much more
numerous are the changes wrought upon these muscles when
nature employs them in the double capacity of communicating
our thoughts and feelings ; not in the language of sounds merely,
but in the language of expression of the countenance also; for
certainly the one is as much their office as the other.’
‘Let us see how the machine works. Observe a man threat-
ened with suffocation: remark the sudden and wild energy that
pervades every feature ; the contractions of the throat, the gasp-
ing and the spasmodic twitchings of his face, the heaving of his
chest and shoulders, and how he stretches his hand and catches
like a drowning man. These are efforts made under the oppres-
sive intolerable sensation at his heart; and the means which
nature employs, to guard and preserve the animal machine, giving
to the vital organ a sensibility that excites to the utmost exertion.’
—Anatomy of Expression, 3rd Edition, p. 91.
This last illustration does not decide the point as to the
* These, however, are not primitive or instinctive associations, the class
that we are most interested in tracing out at present.
MOVEMENTS OF EXPRESSION. 275
dependence of the contortion of the features upon the respi-
ratory organs, inasmuch as the state of intense pain supposed
would excite every part of the body by direct action. The
previous remarks on the necessity there is for movements of
the respiratory passages,—the throat, mouth, and nostrils,—
to accompany the action of the lungs, are very much in favour
of the author’s view.
But that the action on the face is not wholly a conse-
quence of respiratory excitement, 1s decisively proved by the
expression of the eyes, for this in no way ministers to the
breathing function. We are, therefore, led to conclude that,
while a certain amount of the facial expression is due to
the sympathy ur association of the parts with the movements
of the lungs, there still remains a source of independent ex-
citement derived from the brain at first hand, and through the
same common impulse that affects the respiratory, the vocal,
and other organs. This distinctness of action is recognized
in the passage above quoted from Miiller.
13. In tracing out systematically and minutely the physi-
cal accompaniments of states of feeling, there is observable a
broad and fundamental division into two classes—namely,
effects of movement through the muscular system, and organic
effects, or the influences exerted upon the viscera and glandu-
lar organs. Let us consider first the Movements. We find
certain muscles more particularly acted on under feeling, and
named, for that reason, muscles of Expression. Of those
more susceptible regions, our attention is specially called to
the Face.
The muscles of the face, whereby all the movements are
sustained, are arranged round three distinct centres,—the
Eyes, the Nose, and the Mouth. The mouth has the largest
number of muscles, and is the most easily affected by states
of feeling. The nose is the least endowed with mobility.
The muscles of the Eyebrow have been already pointed
out. The occipito-frontalis descends over the forehead, and
is inserted into the eyebrow ; this it raises or arches. It is
opposed by the corrugator supercilu, which corrugates or
276 THE INSTINCTS.
wrinkles the forehead, drawing the eyebrows together. These
are pre-eminently muscles of expression, although also em-
ployed as voluntary muscles for the purposes of vision. They
are emotionally moved by opposite states of feeling, the one
in the more pleasing emotions, the other in pain, doubt, and
embarrassment ; and the appearance that they cause to a
spectator suggests, by association, the ccrresponding states of
mind. The orbicular muscle of the eyelids, which closes the
eye, is of the nature of a sphincter, like the muscle surround-
ing the mouth, and constituting the lips. This is opposed
by the levator palpebre, or the elevating muscle of the upper
eyelid, which opens the eye, both voluntarily and under emo-
tion. The tensor tarst ‘is a very thin, small muscle, placed
at the inner side of the orbit, resting against the fibrous
covering of the lachrymal sac, and behind the tendon of the
orbicularis.’ |
‘The corrugator muscle, being fixed at its inner extremity,
draws the eyebrow and eyelid inwards, and throws the skin into
perpendicular lines or folds, as in frowning. The occipito-frontalis
will, on the contrary, elevate the brow, and wrinkle the skin
transversely ; which actions are so frequently repeated by most
persons, and so constantly by some of a particular temperament,
that the skin is marked permanently by lines in the situations
just referred to. The orbicular muscle is the sphincter of the
eyelids. It closes them firmly, and at the same time draws them
to the inner angle of the orbit, which is its fixed point of attach-
ment. The levator palpebree is the direct antagonist of the
orbicular muscle; for it raises the upper eyelid, and uncovers the
globe of the eye. ‘The tensor tarsi draws the eyelid towards the
nose, and presses the orifices of the lachrymal ducts close to the
surface of the globe of the eye. It may thus facilitate the
entrance of the tears into the ducts, and promote their passage
towards the nose.’—QUAIN.
14. The muscles of the Nose are, first, the pyramidal,
‘which rests on the nasal bone, and appears like a prolon-
gation of the occipito-frontalis, with whose fibres it is inti-
mately connected. It extends from the root of the nose to
about half-way down, where it becomes tendinous, and unites
MUSCLES OF THE FACE. 277
with the compressor naris. Its chief effect seems to be that
of giving a fixed point of attachment to the frontal muscle ;
it also wrinkles the skin at the root of the nose.’
The common elevator of the lip and nose lies along the side
and wing of the nose, extending from the inner margin of the
orbit to the upper lip. It raises the wing of the nose and the
upper lip together.
The compressor naris ‘is a thin, small triangular muscle,
which lies close upon the superior maxilla and the side of
the nose, being transverse from without inwards and upwards.’
Contrary to its name, the principal action of it must be to
expand the nostril by raising the lateral cartilage. This is an
action in obvious harmony with respiration, seeing that it
opens the nasal passage.
The depressor ale nasi ‘is a small flat muscle, lying be-
tween the mucous membrane and the muscular structure of
the lip, with which its fibres are closely connected.’
Of these and other bundles of muscular fibres, traceable
on the small cartilages of the nose, the only considerable or
powerful muscle is the Common Elevator of the Lip and Nose,
which is thoroughly under the command of the will, and
produces a very marked contortion of feature, wrinkling the
nose and raising the upper lip. In expressing disgust at a
bad smell, this muscle is strongly brought into play, and
thence it comes to be employed in expressing disgusts gene-
rally. It is, however, employed without any such intention.
15. There are nine muscles connected with the move-
ments of the Mouth. One of them, the orbicularis, is single,
and surrounds and forms the aperture itself; the other eight
are pairs, and radiate from this as from a centre.
The proper elevator of the upper lip extends from the lower |
border of the orbit to the upper lip, lying close to the border
of the common elevator of the lip and nose. When the lip is
raised without raising the nose, which is not a very easy act,
this muscle is the instrument.
The elevator of the angle of the mouth ‘lies beneath the
preceding, and partly concealed by it.’
278 THE INSTINCTS.
‘The zygomatict are two narrow fasciculi of muscular
fibres, extending obliquely from the most prominent point
of the cheek to the angle of the mouth, one being larger and
longer than the other. The elevator of the angle of the
mouth, and the zygomatic muscles, serve to retract the angle
of the mouth in smiling; they are therefore muscles of ex-
pression.
The two first of these four muscles are concerned in
raising the upper lip, but they do not act very powerfully, or
conspicuously. In fact, the upper lip is a feature remarkable
for fixity, as compared with the under lip, and is not often
elevated in man; and on the occasions when it is raised, this
is done by the common elevator rather than by its own pro-
per muscles.
The region of the lower jaw contains three muscles, the
depressor of the angle of the mouth, the depressor of the
lower lip, and the elevator of the lower lip.
The depressor of the angle of the mouth lies at the side and
lower part of the face, being extended from the angle of the
mouth to the lower jaw.
The depressor of the lower lip is a small square muscle,
lying nearer to the middle line of the chin than the preceding,
by which it is partly concealed. It arises from the fore part
of the lower jaw-bone, and is inserted into the lower lip ; its
fibres become blended with those of the orbicular muscle
of the mouth, having been previously united with those of its
fellow on the opposite side.
The elevator of the lower lip arises from a slight pit below
the teeth-sockets of the lower jaw, near the middle line of the
jaw, and is inserted into the tegument of the chin, which it
lifts when in action.
The remaining muscles of the mouth are unconnected
with either jaw, having a sort of middle position between
them.
‘At each side of the face, in the part called the “ cheek,”
is a muscle—the buccinator; and, round the margin of the
mouth, one—the orbicularis oris.’ .
EXPRESSION OF THE MOUTH. 279
‘The buccinator is a thin, flat plane of muscular fibres,
quadrilateral in figure, occupying the interval between the
jaws. This muscle is exerted in masticating the food, and
receives nerves from the same source as the masseter, which
is one of the principal muscles engaged in the act of mas-
tication.
The orbicularis oris ‘belongs to the class of sphincter
muscles, and, like them, is elliptic in form, and composed of
concentric fibres, so placed as to surround the aperture of the
mouth ; but with this peculiarity, that the fibres are not con-
tinued from one lip into the other. The muscle is flat and
thin ; its inner surface being in contact with the coronary
artery of the lips, labial glands, and the mucous membrane ;
the external with the skin and the fibres of the different
muscles which converge towards the margin of the mouth.’
‘The aperture of the mouth is susceptible of considerable
dilatation and contraction; the former being affected by the
different muscles which converge to it, and which may be com-
pared to retractors drawing, with different degrees of obliquity,
the lips, or their angles, in the direction of their respective points
of attachment. The elevators are necessarily placed at the upper
part of the face, the depressors in the opposite situation, and the
proper retractors on each side; and these are the zygomatici and
the buccinators. The buccinators also contract and compress
the cheeks ; this power is brought into play when any substance
becomes lodged in the interval between them and the jaws.’
16. But it would be a mistake to confine the wave of
movement to the Face, although this is the region where it
is pre-eminent. The Voice acts in concert, giving forth
sounds that are characteristically different under joy or woe,
affection or rage. (The mechanism of the vocal organs is
described in a separate section.) Among muscles specially
affected under mental states, we should not omit the
Diaphragm.
All the muscles of the body may be thrown into agitation
under a wave of strong feeling; the movements, gesticulations,
and carriage of the frame at any one moment are confidently
280 THE INSTINCTS.
referred to as proof of a certain emotional state. In Joyful
moods, an abundance of gesticulation is often displayed in
company with the play of the features and the voice. In
Sorrow, there is sometimes a wild frantic excitement, but
more commonly we observe the inaction and collapse of the
moving members generally. In Wonder, there is apt to be
a liveliness of movement; so in Rage; while a tremulous
quaking is the characteristic of Fear.
17. I must next advert to the Organic effects of emotion,
which are quite equal in point of importance to the muscular.
The viscera and glandular organs that are known to be the
most decisively acted on are the following :—
(1.) The Lachrymal Gland and Sac. The Anatomy of
this part has been adverted to in speaking of its associated
organ, the Kye. ‘The effusion of Tears from the gland is
constantly going on during waking hours. Certain states of
emotion,—tenderness, grief, excessive joy,—cause the liquid
to be secreted and poured out in large quantities, so as to
moisten the eye, and overflow upon the cheek. By this
outpouring, a relief is often experienced under oppressive
pain, the physical circumstance being apparently the dis-
charging of the congested vessels of the brain. A strong
sensibility undoubtedly lodges in the lachrymal organ, the
proof of a high cerebral connexion. The ordinary and
healthy flow of this secretion, when conscious, is connected
with a comfortable and genial feeling ; in the convulsive sob,
not only is the quantity profuse, but the quality would
appear to be changed to a strong brine.
(2.) The Seawal Organs. These organs are both sources
of feeling when directly acted on, and the recipients of
influence from the brain under many states of feeling other-
wise arising. ‘They are a striking illustration of the fact
taat our emotions are not governed by the brain alone, but
by that in conjunction with the other organs of the body.
No cerebral change is known to take place at puberty ;
nevertheless, a grand extension of the emotional suscepti-
bilities is manifest at that season. Although the organs may
OLGANIC EFFECTS OF FEELING. 281
not receive their appropriate stimulation from without, the
mere circumstance of their full development, as an additional
echo to the nervous waves diffused from the cerebrum, alters
the whole tone of the feelings of the mind, like the addition
of a new range of pipes to a wind instrument. It is the con-
tribution of a resonani, as well as of a sensitive part.
(3.) The Digestive Organs. These have been already fully
described ; and their influence upon the mental state has
also been dwelt upon. In the present connexion, we have to
advert more particularly to the reciprocal influence of the
mind upon them. It may be doubted whether any consider-
able emotion passes over us without telling upon the pro-
cesses of digestion, either to quicken or to depress them.
All the depressing and perturbing passions are known to
take away appetite, to arrest the healthy action of the
stomach, liver, bowels, &c. A hilaricus excitement, within
limits, stimulates those functions; although joy may be so
intense as to produce the perturbing effect ; in which case,
however, it may be noted that the genuine charm or fasci-
nation is apt to give place to mere tumultuous passion.
The influence of the feelings in digestion is seen in a
most palpable form in the process of Salivation. In Fear, the
mouth is parched by the suppression of the flow of the
saliva : a precise analogy to what takes place with the gastric
juice in the stomach.
An equally signal example in the same connexion is the
choking sensation in the throat during a paroxysm of grief.
The muscles of the pharynx, which are, as it were, the
beginning of the muscular coat of the alimentary canal, are
spasmodically contracted. The remarkable sensibility of this
part during various emotions, is to be considered as only a
higher degree of the sensibility of the intestine generally.
The sum of the whole effect is considerable in mass, althougn
wanting in acuteness. In pleasurable emotion even, a titilla-
tion of the throat is sometimes perceptible. .
(4.) The Skin. The cutaneous perspiration is liable to be
acted on during strong feelings. The cold sweat from fear or
282 THE INSTINCTS.
depressing passion, is a sudden discharge from the sudorific
glands of the skin. We know, from the altered odour of the
insensible or gaseous perspiration during strong excitement,
how amenable the functions of the skin are to this cause. It
may be presumed, on the other hand, that pleasurable elation
exerts a genial influence on all those functions,
A similar line of remark would apply to the Kidneys.
(5.) The Heart. The propulsive power of the heart’s
action varies with mental states as well with physical health
and vigour. Some feelings are stimulants to add to the
power, while great pains, fright, and depression reduce the
action. Miiller remarks above, that the disturbance of the
heart is a proof of the great range of an emotional wave ; or
its extending beyond the sphere of the cerebral nerves to
parts affected by the sympathetic nerve.
(6.) The Lungs. The quotations above given, from Miiller
and Bell, sufficiently express the influence of emotional states
on the movements of respiration. The immediate effect of in-
creasing or diminishing the movements will be to increase or
to diminish the rate of exchange of the two gases—oxygen and
carbonic acid—at the surface of the lungs. We cannot show
that this exchange is influenced, through the nerves, other-
wise than by the altered energy of the breathing movements.
(7.) The Lacteal Gland in woman. Besides the six
organs now enumerated as common to the two sexes, we must
reckon the speciality of women, namely, the Secretion of the
Milk. Like all the others, this secretion is genial, comfort-
able, and healthy, during some states of mind, while depress-
ing passions check and poison it. .As an additional seat of
sensibility, and an additional resonance to the diffused wave
of feeling, the organ might be expected to render the female
temperament to a certain degree more emotional than the male,
especially after child-bearing has brought it into full play.
18. The question now presents itself : can any general law
be pointed out as giving a clue to this blending of physical
effects with states of feeling ?
A very considerable number of the facts may be brought
GENERAL PRINCIPLE OF EMOTIONAL EXPRESSION. 283
under the following principle, namely, that states of pleaswre
are connected with an increase, and states of pain with an
abatement, of some, or all, of the vital functions,
Let us first revert to the known Agents, or stimulants, of
pleasurable feeling, and compare them with their opposites.
Beginning with the muscular Feelings, it is known that
exercise is pleasurable only when we are expending surplus
energy, and thereby making the blood to course through the
system more rapidly. Both the heart and the lungs are
quickened by bodily exercise ; while an accumulation of force,
which it would be painful to restrain, finds a vent. Let the
stage of fatigue, however, be reached, and let the spur to
exertion be still continued, we then witness the concurring
circumstances of the sense of pain, and the lowering of vital
energy. When exercise is prolonged to the point of painful
fatigue, there is an actual diminution in the amount of carbonic
acid given off by the lungs, showing an enfeebled respiration.
The action of the heart is likewise enfeebled, and thus upon
two vital organs has fallen an abatement of energy. It is
equally certain that the digestive power is reduced under the
same circumstances.
Then, as to Muscular Repose, a feeling highly pleasurable,
especially if the amount of exercise has been well adjusted to
the strength, the generalization is not less applicable. What
happens in resting after exertion is evidently this :—The
muscles have expended all their surplus energy, and in so
doing have stimulated several of the vital functions, such as
the Heart, the Lungs, and the Skin. The Digestive function
is not directly quickened under exercise, but rather retarded
by the concentrating of the nervous currents in the muscles.
Still, much good has been effected by the exalted operation
of these other organs ; and now, at the stage of repose, the
power hitherto compelled into one exclusive direction, being
set free, returns to the other parts, and especially to the
Digestive functions, whose exaltation through that circum-
stance coincides with the pleasant sensibility of the resting
posture. Thus, while in Repose we have the cessation of one
284 THE INSTINCTS.
vital energy, a corresponding increase takes place in several
others: the organic functions generally are heightened, as
the mental and the muscular activities subside.
Regarding the Sensations of Organic Life, commentary is
almost superfluous. There are but few seeming exceptions
to the rule, that organic pains are connected with the loss of
power in some vital function, and organic pleasures with the
opposite. Wounds, hurts, diseases, suffocation, thirst, hunger,
nausea, are so many assaults upon our vitality. Taken in the
gross, there can be no dispute as to the general tendency. As
to the exceptions, the study of them, in some instances at
least, serves to elucidate the principle. Cold is a painful
agent; yet we know that it increases the functional activity
of the muscles, the nerves, the lungs, and the digestion—
depressing only one organ, the skin. We may hence infer
that the skin is an organ of greater sensibility than any of
these others. The stimulation is sometimes obtained without
the depression, as in the reaction after a cold bath, whereby the
skin recovers its tone; the whole effect is then exhilarating.
When this is not so, we may still desire to precure the organic
advantage, though at the expense of a skin pain; as in walk-
ing out on a cold day in wiuter.
Another apparent exception is the eS absence of
all pain in the sick bed; also the happy elation sometimes
shown in the last moments of life. These cases prove, what
we are already prepared for, by the example of muscular
repose already cited, that a high condition of ail the vital
functions is not necessary to agreeable sensibility ; and open
up the important enquiry, which of these functions are most
connected with our happiness, and which least? It is clear
that great muscular energy, exerted or possessed, is not an
immediate essential, although an indirect adjunct of consi-
derable value. It is equally clear that the power of digestion,
and a certain degree of animal heat, are indispensable. There
are states of inanition, of indigestion, and of chillness, that
would sink the loftiest spirit into despair. Thus it may he,
that the comfort of the bed-ridden patient, and the placidity
EXCEPTIONS TO THE LAW OF SELF-CONSERVATION, 285
of the dying moments, are in a measure due to the fact, that
disease has overtaken chiefly the functions that least partici-
pate in our sensitive life. Painless extinction is in this way
contrasted with suffering continued through a long life. There
are parts whose derangement is not felt till on the eve of a
fatal issue ; there are others that cannot be impaired without
making the fact known, and that may work ill for many years
before causing death. Even the organs most connected with
mind, next to the brain, may undergo morbid changes that do
not prevent them from giving their usual genial response to a
pleasurable wave. Obstructed bowels will quench more hap-
piness than certain kinds of organic disease of the intestines.
The lungs are sometimes at the last stage of decay before
affecting the enjoyment of the patient; while the healthiest
man is distressed by partial suffocation.
When we pass from the Organic Feelings to the Sensa-
tions of the five senses, we miss the same decided coincidences.
In Taste and Smell, for example, the rule might hold with those
sensations that involve important vital organs as the Stomach
and the Lungs, but scarcely with the proper sensibilities of
the senses. A taste merely sweet, without being a relish,
gives pleasure; but we cannot, in this instance, assign any
marked increase of vital function. A bitter taste can even
operate as a tonic. So with odours. We have sweet odours
that are sickly, in other words, depressing; and although
some of the mal-odours may lower the vital power, this does
not always happen, and there is no proportion between the
pain and the lowering of the functions.
Soft and agreeable touches have an effect on the mind
somewhat analogous to agreeable warmth; but we cannot
attribute the same physical consequences to the one as to
the other. On the other hand, the painful smart, far from
diminishing the energies, rather excites them for a time at
least ; so that here too the induction would appear to fail.
The pleasures of Hearing and Sight are probably accom-
panied with increased vital energy to some extent. Whena
person is brought from confinement in the dark to the light
286 THE INSTINCTS.
of day, there is observed a rise in the pulsation and in the
breathing, which is so far in favour of the general doctrine.
Still we cannot contend, that the degree of augmented vital
energy corresponds always with the degree of the pleasure.
In short, the principle that served us so well in summing up
most of the organic pleasures and pains, does not apparently
hold in the five senses. Some additional mode of action
must be sought for, in order to give a complete theory of
pleasure and pain. But before enquiring into this supple-
mentary law, let us complete the survey of the facts bearing
upon the one already announced, by viewing the accompani-
ments of feeling under another aspect.
19. Hitherto we have considered the physical agents of
pleasure or pain, and have ascertained that in a number of
cases, these are agents of bodily exaltation or depression.
This does not exhaust the evidence. Another set of proofs
is furnished by studying the manifestations under the opposing
mental conditions, which will bring under review other plea-
sures and pains besides those arising from the Senses.
What, then, is the universally observed expression of
pleasure, no matter how originating? Can it be better
described than in the synonyms of the word pleasure,—
such epithets as lively, animated, gay, cheerful, hilarious,
applied to the movements and expression,—all tending to
suggest that our energies are exalted for the time. In joyful
moods, the features are dilated ; the voice is full and strong ;
the gesticulation is abundant ; the very thoughts are richer.
In the gambols of the young, we see to advantage the coupling
of the two facts—mental delight, and bodily energy. Intro-
duce some acute misery into the mind at that moment, and
all is collapse, as if one had struck a blow at the heart. (I
leave out of account at present the one form of uproarious
and convulsive grief.) A medical diagnosis would show,
beyond question, that the heart and the lungs were lowered
in their action just then; and there would be good grounds for
inferring an enfeebled condition of the digestive organs.
But we can be more particular in our delineation. The
EXPRESSION OF THE FACE ANALYZED. 287
expression of the face has been completely analyzed by Sir
Charles Bell. In pleasing emotions, the eyebrows are raised
and the mouth dilated, the whole effect being to open up the
countenance ; in painful emotions, the corrugator of the eye-
brow acts according to its name ; the mouth is drawn together,
and perhaps depressed at the angles, by the operation of the
proper muscle. Now, in the cheerful expression, there is
obviously a considerable amount of muscular energy put
forth ; a number of comparatively powerful muscles have been
prompted to contract through their entire range. Here we
have a confirmation of the general principle. It might seem
hard to say, why nature selected those muscles for more
especial stimulation when the bodily powers respond to a
thrill of pleasure. ‘These preferences are obviously a part of
our constitution. So far the case accords with our view. But
turn now to the painful expression, and what do we find?
An apparently mixed effect.* On the one hand, there is a
relaxation of those parts that were made tense under a
pleasurable wave, which is what we should expect. If this
were all, the proof would be complete ; the state of pain
would be accompanied with loss of muscular energy in the
features of the face. But this is not all. It would appear
that new muscles are brought into play, for example, the
corrugator of the eyebrows, the orbicular of the mouth, and
the depressor of the angle of the mouth. Thus, if energy
has been withdrawn from one class, another class has been
concurrently stimulated. It is not then loss, but transference,
of power that we witness. It was from looking at the matter
* ‘Tn sorrow, a general languor pervades the whole countenance. The
violence and tension of grief, the lamentations and the tumult, like all strong
excitements, gradually exhaust the frame. Sadness and regret, with depres-
sion of spirits and fond recollections, succeed ; and lassitude of the whole
body, with dejection of the face and heaviness of the eyes, are the most
striking characteristics. The lips are relaxed, and the lower jaw drops; the
upper eyelid falls and half covers the pupil of the eye. The eye is frequently
filled with tears, and the eyebrows take an inclination similar to that which
the depressors of the angles of the lips give to the mouth.’— Tie feat i Eiht / ee blag ae
Te Chae faite oi
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ms
We now proceed to view the Intellect, or the thinking
fe function of the mind. The various faculties known
as Memory, Judgment, Abstraction, Reason, Imagination,—
are modes or varieties of Intellect. Although we can hardly
ever exert this portion of cur mental system in separation
from the other elements of mind—Feeling and Volition, yet
scientific method requires it to be described apart.
The primary, or fundamental attributes of Thought, or
Intelligence, have been already stated to be, Consciousness
of Difference, Consciousness of Agreement, and Retentiveness.
The exposition of the Intellect will consist in tracing out the
workings of these several attributes; the previous book con-
taining the enumeration of all that we at first have to discri-
minate, identify, and retain. |
(1.) The first and most fundamental property is the
Consciousness of Difference, or DISCRIMINATION. To be dis-
tinctively affected by two of more successive impressions is
the most general fact of consciousness. We are never
conscious at all without experiencing transition or change.
(This has been called the Law of Relativity.) lw hen the
mental outburst is characterized mainly by pleasure or pain,
we are said to be under a state of feeling. When the
prominent circumstance is discrimination of the two dis-
tinct modes of the transition, we are occupied intellectually.
There are many transitions that give little or no feeling in the
sense of pleasure or pain, and that are attended to as transi-
tions, in other words, as Differences. In states of enjoyment
or suffering, we cannot be strictly devoid of the consciousness
of difference ; but we abstain from the exercise of the dis-
ceriminating (and the identifying) function, and follow out the
21
ino
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ff
~
B22 THE INTELLECT.
consequences of a state of feeling as such, these being to
husband the pleasure and abate the pain, by voluntary actions. /
In the foregoing detail of the Feelings of Movement and
the Sensations, the properties of each, as regards Feeling, and
as regards Intellect, have always been kept distinct. In
some of the Senses, as the Organic Sensibility, feeling is
nearly every thing. In Taste and Smell, both feeling and
discrimination are fully manifested. In Touch, and still
more in Hearing, and in Sight, there are states of pleasure
and of pain, and also a great number of sensations that are
indifferent in those respects, and whose character it is to call
forth the sensibilities to difference and to agreement. These
last are the proper Intellectual Sensations. Thus the degrees
of roughness or smoothness, of hardness or softness in Touch,
are nothing as feeling, and everything as knowledge. Heat
may be in such amount as to give intense pleasure or pain 5
it may also be wanting in either respect, and may occupy the
mind purely with the consciousness of degree. The sensa-
tions of sound, in the same way, may incline to feeling, as
in the pleasure of Music, or to intellect as in articulation.
Light, colours, and visible forms have, similarly, a double
aspect.
The sense of Difference, or Discrimination, has therefore
been unavoidably illustrated, almost to exhaustion, in the
enumeration of the muscular feelings and the sensations.
As ameans of intellectual reproduction—which is a leading
function of Intellect, commonly expressed by Memory—
the property of Discrimination manifests itself in one form,
called the associating principle of Contrast. As identical
with the law of the Relativity of all feeling and knowledge,
it must emerge at a great many points, and be everywhere
tacitly implied.
Some notice will have to be taken of acgutred discri-
mination, but this is one of the applications of the Retentive
power of the mind.
The conscious state arising from Agreement in the midst
of difference is the natural complement of the foregoing
PRIMARY FUNCTIONS OF THE INTELLECT. 323
attribute ; the two together exhaust the primitive forms of
intellectual susceptibility. But in the order of exposition,
we shall give precedence to the property of Retentiveness,
inasmuch as Agreement in its higher applications presupposes
the whole range of our acquired knowledge, which depends
upon the Retentive function.
(2.)[The fundamental property of Intellect, named Re-
TENTIVENESS, has two aspects, or degrees.
First. The persistence or continuance of mental impres-
sions, after the withdrawal of the external agent. | When the
ear is struck by a sonorous wave, we have a sensation of
sound, but the mental excitement does not die away because
the sound ceases ; there is a certain continuing effect, gene-
rally much feebler, but varying greatly according to circum-
stances, and on some occasions quite equal to the effect of
the actual sensation. ‘In consequence of this property, our
mental excitement, due to external causes, may greatly outlast
the causes themselves ; we are enabled to go on living a life
in ideas, in addition to the life in actualities.
But this is not all. We have, secondly, the power of
recovering, or reviving, under the form of ideas, past or ex-
tinct sensations* and feeling of all kinds, without the
originals, and by mental agencies alone. /
was
ms
ty latthough we can hardly avoid using such terms as ‘ recover,’ ‘revive,
‘reproduce,’ ‘recollect,’ with reference to Sensations, it is to be borne in mind
that there is a radical difference between the Sensation and the recollection
of the Sensation, or what is properly termed the Idea. This fundamental
and unerasible difference relates to the sense of objective reality which belongs
to the sensation, and not to the idea. The sensation caused by the sight of
the sun is one thing, and the idea or recollection of the sun is another thing;
for although the two resemble each other, they yet differ in this vital parti-
cular. For certain purposes (as, for example, in urging the will to pursuit or
to avoidance) the idea can stand in the room of the sensation ; the recollection
of things answers the same ends as the real presence. But there is one great
question connected with our science, in which this distinction is the turning
point of the problem, namely, the question as to our perception and belief of
an external world. In discussing that subject, we shall have to attend closely
to the circumstances that characterize a sensation as distinct from the counter-
part idea. |
32-4 THE INTELLECT.
After the impression of a sound has ceased entirely, and
the mind has been occupied with other things, there is a
possibility of recovering from temporary oblivion the idea,
or mental effect, without reproducing the actual sound. We
remember, or bring back to mind, sights, and sounds, and
thoughts, that have not been experienced for months or years.
This implies a still higher mode of retentiveness than the
previous fact; it supposes that something has been engrained
in the mental structure; that an effect has been produced of
a kind that succeeding impressions have not been able to blot
out. iE Now, one medium of the restoration to consciousness of
a eee past state, is the actual presence of some impres-
sion that had often occurred im company with that state.
Thus we are reminded of a name—as ship, star, tree—by
seeing the thang ; the previous concurrence of name and thing
has led to a mental companionship between the two. Impres-
sions that have frequently accompanied one another in the
mind grow together, so as to become at last almost insepar-
able: we cannot have one without a disposition or prompting
to renew all the rest. This is the highest form of the Reten-
tive, or plastic, property of the mind. It will be exemplified
at length under the title of Association by Contiguity. }
(3.) The remaining property of Intellect is consciousness of
AGREEMENT. Besides the consciousness of difference, the mind
is also affected by agreement rising out of partial difference.
The continuance of the same impression produces no effect,
but after experiencing a certain impression and passing away
from it to something else, the recurrence of the first causes a
certain shock or start,—the shock of recognition ; which is
all the greater according as the circumstances of the present
and of the past occurrence are different. Change produces
one effect, the effect called discrimination ; Similarity in the
midst of change produces a new and distinct effect ; and these
are the two modes of intellectual stimulation, the two constitu-
ents of knowledge. When we see in the child the features of
the man, we are struck by agreement in the midst of difference.
‘This power of recognition, identification, or discovery of
THE DIVISION INTO FACULTIES. 325
likeness in unlikeness, is another means of bringing to mind
past ideas; and is spoken of as the Associating, or Repro-
ductive principle of SrMILARITY. We are as often reminded
of things by their resemblance to something present, as by
their previous proximity to what is now in the view. Con-
tiguity and Similarity express two great principles or forces
of mental reproduction ; they are distinct powers of the mind,
varying in degree among individuals—the one sometimes
preponderating, and sometimes the other. The first governs
Acquisition, the second Invention. /
| The commonly recognized intellectual faculties, enumer-
ated by Psychologists with much discrepancy, in so far
as they do not involve Feeling and Volition, are resolvable
into these three primitive properties of Intellect—Discri-
mination, Retention, Similarity. The faculty called Memory
is almost exclusively founded in the Retentive power, although
sometimes aided by Similarity. The processes of Reason and
Abstraction involve Similarity chiefly ; there being in both
the identification of resembling things. What is termed
Judgment may consist in Discrimination on the one hand,
or in the Sense of Agreement on the other: we determine
two or more things either to differ or to agree. It is im-
possible to find any case of Judging that does not, in the
last resort, mean one or other of these two essential activities
of the intellect. Lastly, Imagination is a product of all the
three fundamentals of our intelligence, with the addition of
an element of Emotion. |
The exposition of Intellect proper will consist mainly in
a full development of the two processes of Retentiveness and
Agreement. These will constitute the two first chapters. , “ \ » a
4 arn ay} \ 2 Lae - > a " ¢ # “2 * ea i rt gt" Sy taiig
Baty q 7 \
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APPENDIX.
PSYCHOLOGY OF ARISTOTLE.
To understand Aristotle’s Psychology, we must look at it in
comparison with the views of other ancient Greek philosophers
on the same subject, as far as our knowledge will permit. Of
these ancient philosophers, none have been preserved to us
except Plato, and to a certain extent Hpikurus, reckoning the
poem of Lucretius as a complement to the epistolary remnants of
Hpikurus himself. The predecessors of Aristotle (apart from
Plato) are known only through small fragments from themselves,
and imperfect notices by others; among which notices the best
are from Aristotle himself.
| In the Timeeus of Plato, we find Psychology, in a very large
and comprehensive sense, identified with Kosmology. The
Kosmos, a scheme of rotatory spheres, has both a soul and a
body :—of the two, the soul is the prior, grander, and pre-
dominant, though both of them are constructed or put together
by the Divine Architect or Demiurgus. The Kosmical soul,
rooted at the centre, and stretched from thence through and
around the whole, is indued with self-movement, and with the
power of initiating movement in the Kosmical body: moreover,
being cognitive as well as motive, it includes in itself three
ingredients mixed together:—1. The Same—the indivisible and
unchangeable essence of Ideas; 2. The Diverse—the Plural—
the divisible bodies or elements; 3. A third compound, formed of
both these ingredients melted into one. As the Kosmical Soul
is intended to know all the three—Idem, Diversum, and Idem
with Diversum in one; so it must comprise in its own nature
all the three ingredients, according to the received Axiom—
612 PSYCHOLOGY OF ARISTOTLE.
Like knows like—Like is known by like.* The ingredients are
blended together according to a scale of harmonic proportion.
The element Idem is placed in an even and undivided rotation
of the outer or sidereal sphere of the Kosmos; the element
Diversum is distributed among the rotations, all oblique, of the
seven interior planetary spheres, that is, the five planets, with the
Sun and Moon. Impressions of identity and diversity, derived
either from the ideal and indivisible, or from the sensible and
divisible, are thus circulated by the kosmical soul throughout its
own entire range, yet without either voice or sound. Reason
and Science are propagated by the Circle of Idem: Sense and
Opinion, by those of Diversum. When these last-mentioned
Circles are in right movement, the opinions circulated are true
and trustworthy.
It is thus that Plato begins his Psychology with Kosmology ;
the Kosmos is in his view a Divine Immortal being or animal,
composed of a spherical rotatory body and a rational soul,
cognitive as well as motive. Among the tenants of this Kosmos
are included, not only gods, who dwell in the peripheral or
celestial regions, but also men, birds, quadrupeds, and fishes.
These four inhabit the more central or lower regions of air, earth,
and water. In describing men and the inferior animals, Plato
takes his departure from the divine Kosmos, and proceeds down-
wards by successive stages of increasing degeneracy and corrup-
tion. The cranium of man was constructed as a little Kosmos,
including in itself an immortal rational soul, composed of the
same materials, though diluted and adulterated, as the kosmical
soul; and moving with the like rotations, though disturbed and
irregular, suited to a rational soul. This cranium, for wise pur-
poses which Plato indicates, was elevated by the gods upon a
tall body, with attached limbs for motion in different directions—
forward, backward, upward, downward, to the right and left.t
Within this body were included two inferior and mortal souls;
one in the thoracic region near the heart, the other lower down
below the diaphragm, in the abdominal region ; but both of them
fastened or rooted in the spinal marrow or cord, which formed a
continuous line with the brain above. These two souls were
* See this doctrine of the Timwus more fully expounded in Grote’s
‘Plato and the Other Companions of Sokrates,’ Vol. IIT., c. 36, p. 250-256 seq.
+ Plato, Timaus, p. 44 E.; Grote’s Plato, Vol. III., c. 36, p. 264.
PLATO’S DIVISION OF THE MIND. 613
both emotional; the higher or thoracic soul being the seat of
courage, energy, anger, &c., while to the lower or abdominal soul
belonged appetite, desires, love of gain, &c. Both of them were
intended as companions and adjuncts, yet in the relation of depend-
ence and cbedience, to the rational soul in the cranium above ;
which, though unavoidably debased and perturbed by such unwor-
thy companionship, was protected partially against the contagion
by thedifference of location—the neck being built up as an isthmus
of separation between the two. The thoracic soul, the seat of
courage, was placed nearer to the head, in order that it might be
the medium for transmitting influence from the cranial sou! above,
to the abdominal soul below; which last was at once the ‘east
worthy and the most difficult to control. The heart, being the
initial point of the veins, received the orders and inspirations of
the cranial soul, transmitting them onward through its many
blood-channels to all the sensitive parts of the body ; which were
thus rendered obedient, as far as possible, to the authority of
man’s rational nature.* The unity or communication of the
three souls was kept up through the continuity of the serebro-
spinal column. |
But though, by these arrangements, the higher soul in the
cranium was enabled to control to a certain extent its inferior
allies, it was itself much disturbed and contaminated by their
reaction. The violence of passion and appetite, the constant
processes of nutrition and sensation pervading the whole body,
the multifarious movements of the limbs and trunk, in all
varieties of direction,—these causes all contributed to agitate and
to confuse the rotations of the cranial soul, perverting the arith-
metical proportions and harmony belonging to them. The
Circles of Same and Diverse were made to convey false informa-
tion; and the soul, for some time after its first junction with the
body, became destitute of intelligence.t In mature life, indeed,
the violence of the disturbing causes abates, and the man may
become more and more intelligent, especially if placed under
appropriate training and education. But in many causes, no
such improvement took place; and the rational soul of man was
irrecoverably spoiled ; so that new and worse breeds were formed,
by successive steps of degeneracy. The first stage, and the
* Plato, Timeus, p. 70; Grote’s Plato, Vol. III., p. 271-272.
+ Plato, Timeeus, p. 43-44; Grote’s Plato, Vol. III., p. 262-264.
614 PSYCHOLOGY OF ARISTOTLE.
least amount of degeneracy, was exhibited in the formation of
woman—the original type of man not having included diversity
of sex. By farther steps of degradation, in different ways, the
inferior animals were formed—birds, quadrupeds, and fishes.*
In each of these, the rational soul became weaker and worse ; its
circular rotations ceased with the disappearance of the spherical
cranium, and animal appetites with sensational agitations were
left without control. As man, with his two emotional souls and
body joined on to the rational soul and cranium, was a debased
copy of the perfect rational soul and spherical body of the divine
Kosmos, so the other inhabitants of the Kosmos proceeded from
still farther debasement and disrationalization of the original
type of man.
Such is the view of Psychology given by Plato in the
Timeeus ; beginning with the divine Kosmos, and passing
downwards from thence to the triple soul of man, as well as
to the various still lower successors of degenerated man. It is
to be remarked that Plato, though he puts soul as prior to body
in dignity and power, and as having for its functions to control
and move body, yet always conceives soul as attached to body,
and never as altogether detached, not even in the divine Kosmos.
The soul, in Plato’s view, is self-moving and self-moved: it is
both Primum Mobile in itself, and Primum Movens as to the
body ; it has itself the corporeal properties of being extended and
moved, and it has body implicated with it besides.
The theory above described, in so far as it attributes to the
soul—rational constituent elements (Idem, Diversum), continuous
magnitude, and circular rotations, was peculiar to Plato, and is
criticised by Aristotle as the peculiarity of his master.t But
several other philosophers agreed with Plato in considering self-
motion, together with, motive causality and faculties perceptive
and cognitive, to be essential characteristics of soul. Alkmeon
declared the soul to be in perpetual motion, like all the celestial
bodies ; hence it was also immortal, as they were.{ Herakleitus
described it as the subtlest of elements, and as perpetually
fluent; hence it was enabled to know other things, all of which
were in flux and change. Diogenes of Apollonia affirmed that
* Plato, Timeus, p. 91; Grote’s Plato, p. 281-282.
+ Aristot. De Anim, I. 3, p. 407, a. 2.
} Aristot. De Anima, I. 2, 405, a. 32.
ANCIENT THEORIES OF THE SOUL. 615
the element constituent of soul was air, at once mobile, all-
penetrating, and intelligent. Demokritus declared that among
the infinite diversity of atoms, those of spherical figure were the
constituents both of the element fire and of the soul; the
spherical atoms were by reason of their figure the most apt and
rapid in moving; it was their nature never to be at rest; and
they imparted motion to everything else.* Anaxagoras affirmed
Soul to be radically and essentially distinct from every thing
else; but to be the great primary source of motion, and to be
endued with cognitive power, though at the same time not
suffering impressions from without.t Empedokles considered
Soul to be a compound of the four elements—-fire, air, water,
earth ; with Love and Hatred as principles of motion, the
former producing aggregation of elements, the latter, disgrega-
tion; by means of each element, the soul became cognizant of
the like element in the Kosmos. Some Pythagoreans looked
upon the soul as an aggregate of particles of extreme subtlety,
which pervaded the air and were in perpetual agitation. Other
Pythagoreans, however, declared it to be an harmonious or
proportional mixture of contrary elements and qualities ; hence
its universality of cognition, extending to all.t
A peculiar theory was delivered by Xenokrates (who, having
been fellow-pupil with Aristotle, under Plato, afterwards con-
ducted the Platonic school, during all the time that Aristotle
taught at the Lyceum), which Aristotle declares to involve
greater difficulty than any of the others. Xenokrates described
the soul as ‘a number—(a Monad or Indivisible Unit)—moving
itself.” § He retained the self-moving property which Plato had
declared to be characteristic of the soul, while he departed from
Plato’s doctrine of a soul with continuous extension. He thus
fell back upon the Pythagorean idea of Number as the funda-
mental essence. Aristotle impugns, as alike untenable, both the
two properties here alleged—number and self-motion. If the
Monad both moves and is moved (he argues), 1t cannot be indi-
visible ; if it be moved, it must have position, or must be a point;
but the motion of a point is a line, without any of that variety
* Aristot. De Anima, I. p. 404, a. 8, 405, a. 22, 406, b. 17.
+ Aristot. De Anima, I. p. 405, a. 13, b. 22.
t+ Aristot. De Anima, I. p. 404, a. 17, 407, b. 28.
§ Aristot. De Anima, I. 4, 408, b. 32, 409, b. 12.
616 PSYCHOLOGY OF ARISTOTLE.
that constitutes life. How can the soul be a Monad ? or if it
be, what difference can exist between one soul and another, since
Monads cannot differ from each other except in position? How
comes it that some bodies have souls and others not ? and how,
upon this theory, can we explain the fact that many animated
bodies, both plants and animals, will remain alive after being
divided—the monadic soul thus exhibiting itself as many and
diverse ? Besides, the Monad set up by Xenokrates is hardty
distinguishable from the highly attenuated body or spherical atom
recognized by Demokritus as the origin or beginning of bodily
motion.
These and other arguments are employed by Aristotle to
refute the theory of Xenokrates. In fact, he rejects all the
theories then current. After having dismissed the self-motor
doctrine, he proceeds to impugn the views of those who declared
the soul to be a compound of all the four elements, in order that
they might account for its percipient and cognitive faculties upon
the maxim then very generally admitted*—That like is perceived
and known by like. This theory, the principal champion of
which was Empedokles, appears to Aristotle inadmissible. You
say (he remarks) that like knows like; how does this consist
with your other doctrine, that like cannot act upon, or suffer from,
like, especially as you consider that both in perception and in
cognition the percipient and cognizant suffers or is acted upon ? T
Various parts of the cognizant Subject, such as bone, hair, liga-
ments, &c., are destitute of perception and cognition; how then
can we know anything about bone, hair, and ligaments, since we
cannot know them by like? { Suppose the Soul to be com-
pounded of all the four elements; this may explain how it comes
to know the four elements, themselves, but not how it comes to
know all the combinations of the four; now innumerable com-
binations of the four are comprised among the Cognita. We
must assume that the Soul contains in itself not merely the four
elements, but also the laws or definite proportions wherein they
can combine; and this is affirmed by no one.§ Moreover, Ens is
an equivocal, or at least a multivocal, term; there are Entia
* Aristot. De Anima, I. 5, 409, a, 29.
+ Aristot. De Anima, I. 5, 410, a. 25.
t Aristot. De Anima, I. 5, 410, b. 31.
§ Aristot. De Anima, I. 5, 409, b. 28, 410, a. 12.
ANCIENT THEORIES OF THE SOUL, 617
belonging to each of the ten Categories. Now, the Soul cannot
include in itself all the ten, for the different categories have no
elements in common; in whichever category you rank the soul,
it will know (by virtue of likeness) the Cognita belonging to that
category, but it will not know the Cognita belonging to the other
nine.* Besides, even if we grant that the Soul includes all the
four elements, where is the cementing principle that combines
all the four into oneP The elements are merely matter; and
what holds them together must be the really potent principle of
soul; but of this no explanation is given.t
Shits philosophers have assumed (continues Aristotle) that
Soul pervades the whole Kosmos and its elements; and that it
is inhaled by animals in respiration along with the air.t They
forget that all plants, and even some animals, live without
respiring at all; moreover, upon this theory, air and fire also, as
possessing Soul, and what is said to be a better Soul, ought (if
the phrase were permitted) to be regarded as animals. The
Soul of air or fire must. be homogeneous in its parts; the Souls
of animals are not homogeneous, but involve several distinct
parts or functions.§ The Soul perceives, cogitates, opines, feels,
desires, repudiates; farther, it moves the body locally, and brings
about the growth and decay of the body. Here we have a new
mystery ||—Is the whole Soul engaged in the performance of
each of these functions, or has it a separate part exclusively
consecrated to each ? If so, how many are the parts? Some
philosophers (Plato among them) declare the Soul to be divided,
and that one part cogitates and cognizes, while another part
desires. But upon that supposition, what is it that holds these
different parts together ? Certainly not the body (this is Plato’s
theory) ; on the contrary, it is the Soul that holds together the
body ; for as soon as the Soul is gone, the body rots and dis-
appears.§ If there be any thing that keeps together the
divers parts of the Soul as one, that Something must be the true
* Aristot. De Anima, I. 5, 410, a. 20.
+ Aristot. De Anima, I. 5, 410, b. 12.
+ Aristot. De Anima, I. 2, 404, a. 10. 70d fyv Opov etvat TH
dvarvonv, &c. Compare the doctrine of Demokritus. ‘
§ Aristot. De Anima, I. 4, 411, a. 1-8-16.
| Aristot. De Anima, I. 5, 411, a. 30.
{ Aristot. De Anima, I. 5, 411, b. 8.
618 PSYCHOLOGY OF ARISTOTLE.
and fundamental Soul; and we ought not to speak of the Soul
as having parts, but as essentially One and Indivisible, with
several distinct faculties. Again, if we are to admit parts of the
Soul, does each part hold together a special part of the body, as
the entire Soul holds together the entire body? This seems
impossible; for what part of the body can the Nous or Intellect
(e.g.) be imagined to hold together ? And besides, several kinds
of plants and of animals may be divided, yet so that each of the
separate parts shall still continue to live; hence it is plain that
the Soul in each separate part is complete and homogeneous.*
Aristotle thus rejects all the theories proposed by antecedent
philosophers, but more especially the two following—That the
Soul derives its cognitive powers from the fact of being com-
pounded of the four elements; That the Soul is self-moved.
He pronounces it incorrect to say that the Soul is moved at
all.t He farther observes that none of the philosophers have
kept in view either the full meaning or all the varieties of Soul;
and that none of these defective theories suffices for the purpose
that every good and sufficient theory ought to serve, viz., not
merely to define the essence of the Soul, but also to define it in
such a manner that the concomitant functions and affections of
the Soul shall all be deducible from it.f Lastly, he points out
that most of his predecessors had considered that the prominent
characteristics of Soul were—To be motive—To be percipient :§
while, in his opinion, neither of these two characteristics was
universal or fundamental.
Aristotle requires that a good theory of the Soul shall explain
alike the lowest vegetable soul, and the highest functions of the
human or divine soul. And in commenting on those theorists
who declared that the essence of soul consisted in movement, he
remarks that their theory fails altogether in regard to the Nous
(or cogitative and intellective faculty of the human soul); the
operation of which bears far greater analogy to rest or suspension
of movement, than to movement itself. ||
* Aristot. De Anima, I. 5, 411, b. 15-25.
+ Aristot. De Anima, I. 5, 411, a. 25.
t Aristot. De Anima, I. 1, 402, b. 18, seq.; I. 4, 408, a.4; I. 5,509, b. 15.
§ Aristot. De Anima, I. 2. 403, b. 30.
| Aristot. De Anima, I. 3, 407, a. 32. ze & 7) vonars eorcey Npeunoct
QnA 9 U ° A ’
Tivt 7} Emiotace paddov }) Kwyoel.
PROPERTIES CONSTITUTING LIFE. 619
We shall now proceed to state how Aristotle steers clear (or
at least believes himself to steer clear) of the defects that he
has pointed out in the psychological theories of his predecessors.
Instead of going back (like Empedokles, Plato, and others) to a
time when the Kosmos did not yet exist, and giving us an
hypothesis to explain how its parts came together or were put
together—he takes the facts and objects of the Kosmos as they
stand, and distributes them according to distinctive marks alike
obvious, fundamental, and pervading; after which he seeks a
mode of explanation in the principles of his own Philosophia
Prima or Ontology. Whoever had studied the Organon and the
Physica of Aristotle (apparently intended to be read prior to the
treatise De Animé) would be familiar with his distribution of
Entia into ten Categories, of which, Essence or Substance was
the first and the fundamental. Of these Essences or Substances,
the most complete and recognized were physical or natural
bodies ; and among such bodies, one of the most striking distinc-
tions, was between those that had life and those that had it not.
By life, Aristotle means keeping up the processes of nutrition,
growth, and decay.*
“To live’? (Aristotle observes) is a term used in several dif-
ferent meanings; whatever possesses any one of the following
four properties is said to live.t 1. Intellect. 2. Sensible per-
ception. 38. Local movement and rest. 4. Internal movement
of nutrition, growth, and decay. But of these four, the last is
the only one common to all living bodies without exception ; it is
the foundation presupposed by the other three. It is the only
one possessed by plants,{ and common to all plants as well as
to all animals ; to all animated bodies.
What is the animating principle belonging to each of these
bodies, and what is the most general definition of it? Such is
* Aristot. De Anim§, II. 1, 412, a. 15, 412, b. 20. ovata: dé parton’
eivat doxodst Ta owwara, kai ToUTwY Ta Duotka’ Tov b& hoor ta
pev exet Cony, ta & ove éxet* Cwry 6€ eyw, tv 60 adtiv tpodyy
kai avEnow Kai POioww.
Aristot. De Anima, II. 1, 413, a. 21. wdeovaxds Sé 10d oy
Neyouevou, &e.
+ Aristot. De Anima, ITs;:2, 418, a." 22. theovaxids é€ Tod Ch
Aeryouevou, Kav ev ‘te TOUTWY évuTrapx) povov, Cn avto Paper, &e. *
+ Aristot. De Anima, I. 411, b. 29, ad fin.
620 PSYCHOLOGY OF ARISTOTLE.
the problem that Aristotle states to himself about the soul.* He
explains it by a metaphysical distinction first introduced (appa-
rently) by himself into Philosophia Prima. He considers sub-
stance or essence as an ideal compound; not simply as clothed
with all the accidents described in the nine last categories, but
also as being analyzable in itself, even apart from these accidents,
into two abstract, logical, or notional elements or principia—
Form and Matter. This distinction is borrowed from the most
familiar facts of the sensible world—the shape of solid objects.
When we see or feel a cube of wax, we distinguish the cubic shape
from the waxen material ;+ we may find the like shape in many
other materials—wood, stone, &c.; we may find the like material
in many different shapes, sphere, pyramid, &c.; but the matter
has always some shape, and tke shape has always some matter.
We can name and reason about the matter, without attending to
the shape, or distinguishing whether it be cube or sphere; we
can name and reason about the shape, without attending to the
material shaped, or to any of its various peculiarities. But this,
though highly useful, is a mere abstraction or notional distinction.
There can be no real separation between the two; noshape with-
out some solid material; no solid material without some shape.
The two are correlates; each of them implying the other, and
neither of them admitting of being realized or actualized without
the other.
This distinction of Form and Matter is one of the capital
features of Aristotle’s Philosophia Prima. He expands it and
diversifies it in a thousand ways, often with subtleties very
difficult to follow.; but the fundamental import of it is seldom
lost; two correlates inseparably implicated in fact and reality, in
every concrete individual that has received a substantive name,—
yet logically separable, and capable of being named and con-
sidered apart from each other. The Aristotelian analysis thus
brings out, in regard to each individual substance (or Hoc
Aliquid, to use his phrase), a triple point of view. 1. The Form.
2. The Matter. 3. The compound or aggregate of the two; in
other words, the inseparable Ens, which carries us out of the
* Aristot. De Anima, II. 413, b. 11. 9 Yux7) THv eipyucvwy TOUTWY
dpxy-—Il. 412,a. 5. ris dv ely Kowotatos Aoyos auTis.
+ Aristot. De Animéa, II. 412, b. 7. tov knpov Kat To oxfpa.
DISTINCTION OF MATTER AND FORM. 621
domain of logic or abstraction into tnat of the concrete or
reality.*
Aristotle farther recognizes, between these two logical corre-
lates, a marked difference of rank. The Form stands first, the
Matter second—not in time, but in notional presentation. The
Form is higher, grander, prior in dignity and esteem, more Ens,
or more nearly approaching to perfect entity; the Matter is
lower, meaner, posterior in dignity, farther removed from that
perfection. The conception of wax, plaster, wood, &c. without
any definite or determinate shape, is confused and unimpressive :
but a name, connoting some definite shape, at once removes this
confusion, and carries with it mental pre-eminence, alike as to
phantasm, memory, and science. In the logical hierarchy of
Aristotle, Matter is the inferior and Form the superior;+ yet
neither of the two can escape from its relative character; Form
requires matter for its correlate, and is nothing in itself or apart, {
just as much as matter requires Form; though from the inferior
* Aristot. Metaphys. Z. 3, 1029, a. 1-30.; De Anima, If. 1, 412, a. 6,
414, a, 16.
In the first book of the Physica, Aristotle pushes this analysis yet further,
introducing three principia instead of two: 1. Form, 2. Matter, 3. Privation
(of Form) ; he gives a distinct general name to the negation as well as to the
affirmation; he provides a sign minus as counter-denomination to the sign
plus. But he intimates that this is only the same analysis more minutely
discriminated, or in a different point of view—é.0 cote ev ws dvo AexTéov
Elva Tas apxas, ott &'ws tpets—(Phys. I. 7, 190, b. 28).
Materia Prima (Aristotle says—Phys. I. 7, 191, a. 8) is “ knowable only
by analogy ”—7.e. explicable only by illustrative examples: as the brass is
to the statue, as the wood is to the couch, &c.; Natural Substances being
explained from works of art, as is frequent with Aristotle.
+ Aristot. Physic, I. 9, p. 192, a. 18-24; De Gener. Animal. IT, 1, 728,
a. 10. Matter and Form are here compared to the female and the male—
to mother and father. Form is a cause operative, Matter a cause co-operative,
though both are alike indispensable to full reality : with Form—7 pev yap
Uropévoved ouvaitia 7H Hopey TOV yevopevwy éotiv womep eTHp—
GAG TOOT eotv 7 vn; Worep av et OAV dppevos Kai wiox pov kahov
(é€pievo).—De Partibus Animalium, I. 1, 640, b. 30, 7 yap Kata THY
poppy Pros kupwrépa tis Dhicfs poocws—p. 646, b. 1.
Metaphys., Z. 3, 1029, a.6, 710 eidos THs UNys TpoTEpov Kat paddrov av
—1039, a. 1.
See Schwegler’s German Commentary, pp. 13-42-83—in the second
volume of his edition of the Aristotelian Metaphysica.
+ Aristot. Metaph., Z. 8,1033, b. 12, seq. ; 0. 3, 1047, a. 25.
622 PSYCHOLOGY OF ARISTOTLE.
dignity of matter, we find it more frequently described as the
second or Correlatum, while Form is made to stand forward as the
Relatum. For complete reality, we want the concrete individual,
involving the implication of both; in regard to each of the con-
stituents per se, no separate real existence can be affirmed, but
only a nominal or logical separation.
This difference of rank between Matter and Form,—that the
first is inferior and the last the superior,—is sometimes so much
put in the foreground, that the two are conceived in a different
manner and under other names, as Potential and Actual. Matter
is the potential, imperfect, inchoate, which the supervening Form
actualizes into the perfect and complete; a transition from half-
reality to entire reality or act. The Potential is the undefined or
indeterminate*—what may be or may not be—what is not yet
actual, and may perhaps never become so, but is prepared to
pass into actuality when the energizing principle comes to aid.
In this way of putting the antithesis, the Potential is not so
much implicated with the Actual as merged and suppressed to
make room for the Actual; it is as a half-grown passing into a
full-grown ; being itself essential as a preliminary stage, in the
order of logical generation.t The three logical divisions—
* Aristot. Metaphys., 0.8, 1050, b.10. He says, p. 1048, a. 35, that this
distinction between Potential and Actual cannot be defined, but can only be
illustrated by particular examples, several of which he proceeds to enumerate,
—Trendelenburg, observes (Note ad Aristot. De Anima, p. 307)—‘ Avvamis
eontraria adhuc in se inclusa tenet, ut in utrumque abire possit: évepryera
alterum excludit.””—Compare also ib. p. 302.—This may or may not be—is the
widest and most general sense of the terms dvvamis and duvatov, common
to all the analogical or derivative applications that Aristotle points out as
belonging to them. It is more general than that which he gives as the
KUplos Opos THs mpwrns Suvamews dpx7i—pmeTaBAnTLKY ev addw # ] ddXo
—and ought seemingly to be itself considered as the KUpLOS Pred EP
Metaphys. A. 12, 1020, a. 5, with the comment of Bonitz, who remarks upon
the loose language of Aristotle in this Chapter, but imputes to Aristotle a
greater amount of contradiction than he seems to deserve.—(Bonitz, Comm.
ad Metaphys., p. 256-393.)
+ Ens potentid is a variety of Ens (Arist. Metaph. A. 7, 1007, b. 6),
but an imperfect variety—it is ov dtedés, which may become matured into
ov 7édeLov, Ov évTedexela, or évepyelg.—(Metaphys., 0: 1, 1045, a. 34.)
Matter is either remote or proximate, removed either by one stage or
several stages from the ovvoXov in which it culminates, Strictly speaking,
none but proximate matter is said to exist dvvauer. Alexander ad Metaph.
MATTER POTENTIAL AND ACTUAL. 623
Matter, Form, and the resulting compound or concrete (70
ovvoXov, 70 cuveihnupevov), are here compressed into two—the
Potential and the actualization thereof. Actuality (évépyea,
€vteXexera) coincides in meaning partly with the Form, partly
with the resulting compound ; the Form being so much exalted,
that the distinction between the two is almost effaced.*
Two things are to be remembered respecting matter, in its
Aristotelian (logical or ontological) sense. 1. It may be body,
but it is not necessarily body.t 2. It is only intelligible as the
Correlatum of Form ; it can neither exist by itself, nor can it be
known by itself (ze. when taken out of that relativity). . This
deserves notice, because to forget the relativity of a relative
word, and to reason upon it as if it were an absolute, is an over-
sight not unfrequent. Furthermore, each variety of matter has
its appropriate Form, and each variety of Form its appropriate
matter, with which it correlates. There are various stages or
gradations of matter; from Materia Prima, which has no Form
at all, passing upwards through successive partial developments
to Materia Ultima ; which last is hardly{ distinguishable from
Form or from Materia Formata.
9. 1049, a. 18, 7 Topp Ody ov Neryerat Suvauer: OTL Ov Tapwyypeat oper
Ta mparypare €k THs Toppw ann’ €k THs mposexave Neryouen yap 70
KUBWTLOV EvXuvov €K THs 7 POaexX vs, arr’ ov ynivov €K THS TOppw.
* Aristot. Metaphys., H. 1, 1042, a. 25, seq. He scarcely makes any
distinction here between vA wa dvvams, or between poppy and évepyea;
also @. 8, 1050, a. 15.
Alexander in his Commentary on this book (0, 1047, a. 30, p. 542,
Bonitz’s edit.) remarks that évépryeva is used by Aristotle in a double sense;
sometimes meaning Kkivyots 7pos TO TéXos; sometimes meaning the tédos
itself: comp. H. 3, 1043, a. 32 ; compare the Oy of Bonitz, p. 393.
+ Aristot. Metaph., Z. 11, 1036, a. 9. 7, ‘ ody dyvwotos Ka? aut.
ody & 7 ev aioOn77}, 9 6€ vonty aiOy7) bev otov xahkos kal Evhov
Kal don Kivnryy vy; von7y éé 7 €v Tots pg tiirats UTapx ove" ey 7
ataOnza, olov Ta waOypatixa—1035, a. 7.
stat IIT. 6, 207, a. 25; De Generat. et Corrupt, I. 5, 320, b. 15-25.
t Aristot. De Anima, IT. 2, 414, 0.26. éxaotov yap 7 evtehexeta ev
Tw spies UTapXovTt Kal év TH orKeee ody meQuKev éyyivecOau.
Physica, II. 2, 194, b. 8.—é7 tv mpos Tt 1 OE addw eter addy ody. a
Aristot. Metaph., H. 6, 1045, b. 18.—éo7 & worep elpytat, Kal ) €oxaty
Dy Kal y poppy Diet Kal Boca To dé évepryeta.—See upon this doctrine
Schwegler’s Commentary, pp. 100-154-173-240, of the second volume of his
edition of the Metaphysica. Potentiality éyyutépw Kai woppwtépw.—Arist.
De Gener. Animal. II., 1, 785, a. 9; also De Coelo, IV. 3, 310, b. 14,
624 PSYCHOLOGY OF ARISTOTLE.
The distinction above specified is employed by Aristotle in
his exposition of the Soul. The Soul belongs to the Category of
Substance or Essence (not to that of Quantity, Quality, dc.) ; but
of the two points of view under which Essence may be presented,
the Soul ranks with Form, not with Matter—with the Actual,
not with the Potential. The Matter to which (as Correlatum)
Soul stands related, is a natural Body (i.e. a body having within
it an inherent principle of motion and rest) organized in a certain
way, or fitted out with certain capacities and preparations to
which Soul is the active and indispensable complement. These
capacities would never come into actuality without the Soul ;
but, on the other hand, the range of actualities or functions in
the Soul depends upon, and is limited by, the range of capacities
ready prepared for it in the body. The implication of the two
constitutes the living subject, with all its functions, active and
passive. If the eye were an animated or living subject, seeing
would be its Soul; if the carpenter’s axe were living, cutting
would be its Soul ;* the Matter would be the lens or the iron in
which this Soul is embodied. It is not indispensable, however,
that all the functions of the living Subject should be at all times
in complete exercise; the Subject is still living, even while asleep;
the eye is still a good eye, though at the moment closed. It.
is enough if the functional aptitude exist as a dormant property,
ready to rise into activity, when the proper occasions present
themselves. - This minimum of Form suffices to give living
efficacy to the potentialities of Body; it is enough that a man,
though now in a dark night and seeing nothing, will see as soon
as the sun rises; or that he knows geometry, though he is not
now thinking of a geometrical problem. This dormant posses-
sion is what Aristotle calls the First Entelechy or Energy, i.e.
the lowest stage of Actuality, or the minimum of influence re-
quired to transform Potentiality into Actuality. The Aristotelian
definition of Soul is thus—The First Entelechy of a natural
organized Body, having life in potentiality.+ It is all that is
* Aristot. De Anima, ¥L 4) 418. BF 1b et ap qv oO OPOarpos Cwor,
Yux dv qv abtod 7 oyrs- avrn utp ovota opOaruod ) KaTa TOV
Aoyov: oe opOah mos Udy oyews, Hs dmroheurovens ovxer opOadpO0s,
TyY Oomwrdpws, KaOarep 0 NOWwos Kai o Yeypanuevos.
+ Aristot. De Anima, II. i, 412, a. 27. 610 7 0 Wexy é€oTw évrehexere
7 mpwrn owpatos duvotkod duvaues Cwnv EX OVTOS ; to.ovTo bé 6 dy 7
opyavicov., Compare Metaphysica, VI., 1035, b. 15-27.
DEFINITION OF THE SOUL. 625
essential to the Soul; the second or higher Entelechy (actual
exercise of the faculties) is not a constant or universal property.*
In this definition of the Soul, Aristotle employs his own
Philosophia Prima to escape the errors committed by prior
philosophers. He does not admit that the Soul is a separate
Entity in itself; or that it is composed (as Empedokles and
Demokritus had said) of corporeal elements, or (as Plato had
said) of elements partly corporeal, partly logical and notional.
He rejects the imaginary virtues of number, invoked by the
Pythagoreans and Xenokrates ; lastly, he keeps before him not
merely man, but all the varieties of animated objects, to which
his definition must be adapted. His first capital point is to put
aside the alleged identity, or similarity, or sameness of elements,
between Soul and Body; and to put aside equally any separate
existence or substantiality of Soul. He effects both these pur-
poses by defining them as essentially Relatum and Correlatum ;
the Soul, as the Relatum, is unintelligible and unmeaning without
its Correlatum, upon which accordingly its definition is declared
to be founded.
The real Animated Subject may be looked at either from the
point of view of the Relatum or from that of the Correlatum ; but
though the two are thus logically separable, in fact and reality
they are inseparably implicated; and if either of them be with-
drawn, the Animated Subject disappears. ‘‘ The soul (says
Aristotle) is not any variety of body, but it cannot be without a
body ; it is nota body, but it is something belonging to or related
to a body; and for this reason it is m a body, and in a body of
such or such potentialities.”+ Soul is to Body, (we thus read)
not as a compound of like elements,—nor as a type is to its copy,
or vice versa—but as a Relatum to its Correlate; dependent upon
the body for all its acts and manifestations, and bringing to
* Aristot. De Anima, II. 2,414, a. 9-15. The distinction here taken
between the first or lower stage of Entelechy, and the second or higher stage,
coincides substantially with the distinction in the Nikomachean Ethica and
elsewhere between is and évepyera, See Topica, IV. 5, 125, b. 16; Ethic.
Nikom., IT., 1-5.
+ Aristot. De Anima, IT. 2, 414,a. 20. Kat éua Todt KkaXds UToNa[-
Bavovow ots Soke? pnt avev TwWMaTos Eivar MITE oHma TY Wuxy? oma
nev yap ovK Cott, cwmatos S€ TL, Kal dia TOVTO ev owWmatL VIrdpyet,
kat év owpate TovovTw. Compare Aristot. De Juventute et Senectute, ¢, 1,
467, b. 14.
40
626 PSYCHOLOGY OF ARISTOTLE,
consummation what in the body exists as potentiality only.
Soul, however, is better than Body; and the Animated Being is
better than the Inanimate by reason of its Soul.*
The animated subject is thus a form immersed or implicated
in matter; and all its actions and passions are so likewise.t
Hach of these has its formal side, as concerns the Soul, and its
material side, as concerns the Body. When aman or animal is
anery, for example, this emotion is both a fact of the Soul and a
fact of the Body ; in the first of these two characters, it may be
defined as an appetite for hurting some one who has hurt us; in
the second of the two, it may be defined as an ebullition of the
blood and heat round the heart.t The emotion, belonging to the
animated subject or aggregate of soul and body, is a complex fact
having two aspects, logically distinguishable from each other, but
each correlating with and implying the other. This is true not
only in regard to our passions, emotions, and appetites, but also
in regard to our perceptions, phantasms, reminiscences, reason-
ings, efforts of attention in learning, &c. We do not say that
the Soul weaves or builds (Aristotle observes§) ; we say that the
Animated Subject, the aggregate of Soul and Body, the man,
weaves or builds. So we ought also to say, not that the Soul
feels anger, pity, love, hatred, &c., or that the soul learns, reasons,
recollects, &c., but that the man with his soul does these things.
The actual movement throughout these processes is not in the
Soul, but in the Body; sometimes going through to the Soul (as
in sensible perception), sometimes proceeding from the soul
to the body (as in the case of reminiscence). All these processes
are at once corporeal and psychical, pervading the whole ani-
mated subject, and having two aspects coincident and interde-
pendent, though logically distinguishable. The perfect or imper-
* Aristot. De Generat. Animal., II. 1, 731, b. 29.
+ Aristot. De Anima, I. 1, 403, a. 25. ta way Aoyor Evunot Etat,
Compare II. 1, 412, b. 10-25, 413, a. 2.
+ Aristot. De Anima, I. 1, 403, a. 30.
% Aristot. De Anim, I. 4, 408, b. 12. to dé Nevyeuv opyCeoOa TP
Yuxqy Cmovov Kav et Ts heyou TV Yuxny vpuiver 7) oikodomely °
Bédti0v yap tows fe) heyery THY Yuxyy éNeety y pavOavery i
diavociabar, adXa Tov dvOpwrov TH ux: TodTo dé pay ws ev éxecvy)
THS KuyoEws ovoys, GNX” OTe pev BEXpt exeivys, ote © am’ éxetvys, &e.
Again, b. 80, d7. pév ovv ovb« oloy te KwwetcOa THY Wuxnv, pavepov
€K TOUTWY.
THE BODY ESSENTIALLY IMPLICATED WITH THE SOUL. 627
fect discrimination by the sentient Soul, depends upon the good
or bad condition of the bodily sentient organs ; an old man that
has become shortsighted, would see as well as before, if he could
regain his youthful eye. The defects of the soul arise from
defects in the bodily organism to which it belongs, as in cases of
drunkenness or sickness; and this is not less true of the Nous,
or intellective Soul, than of the sentient Soul.* Intelligence,
as well as emotion, are phenomena, not of the bodily, organism
simply, nor of the Nous simply, but of the community or part-
nership of which both are members; and when intelligence
gives way, this is not because the Nous itself is impaired, but
because the partnership is ruined by the failure of the bodily
organism.
Respecting the Nous (the theorizing Nous), we must here
observe that Aristotle treats it as a separate kind or variety of
Soul, with several peculiarities. We shall collect presently all
that he says upon that subject, which is the most obscure portion
of his psychology.
In regard to Soul generally, the relative point of view with
Body as the Correlatum, is constantly insisted on by Aristotle ;
without such Correlatum, his assertions would have no meaning.
But the relation between them is presented in several different
ways. The Soul is the cause and principle of a living body ;t
by which is meant, not an independent and pre-existent some-
thing that brings the body into existence, but an immanent or
in-dwelling influence which sustains the unity and guides the
functions of the organism. According to the quadruple classifi-
cation of Cause recognized by Aristotle—Formal, Material,
Movent, and Final—the Body furnishes the Material Cause, while
the Soul comprises all the three others; it is (as we have
already seen) the Form in relation to the body as matter, but it
is, besides, the Movent, inasmuch as it determines the local dis-
placement as well as all the active functions of the Body—
nutrition, growth, generation, sensation, &c.; lastly, it is also the
Final Cause, since the maintenance and perpetuation of the
same Form, in successive individuals, is the standing purpose
* Aristot. De Anima, I. 4, 408, b. 26.—Compare a similar doctrine in
the Timzeus of Plato, p. 86, B.-D.
+ Aristot. De Anima, II. 4, 415, b. 9. dome & 9 Wuyx7) 108 Civ70s
swpmatos aitia Kat dpyn* tadta b€ wodNaxis eyeTut.
628 PSYCHOLOGY OF ARISTOTLE.
aimed at by each Body in the economy of Nature.* Under
this diversity of aspect, Soul and Body are reciprocally integrant
and complementary of each other, the real integer (the Living
or Animated Body) including both.
Soul, in the Aristotelian point of view (what is common
to all living bodies) comprises several varieties. But these
varieties are not represented as forming a genus with co-ordinate
species under it, in such manner that the counter-ordinate species,
reciprocally excluding each other, are, when taken together,
co-extensive with the whole genus—like Man and Brute in regard
to animal. The varieties of Soul are distributed into successive
stages gradually narrowing in extension and enlarging in com-
prehension ; the first or lowest stage being co-extensive with the
whole, but connoting only two or three simple attributes ; the
second, or next above, connoting all these and more besides, but
denoting only part of the individuals denoted by the first ; the
third connoting all this and more, but denoting yet fewer indi-
viduals; and so on forward. ‘Thus the concrete individuals
called Living Bodies, include all plants as well as all animals;
but the Form Soul (called Nutritive by Aristotle) corresponding
thereto, connotes only nutrition, growth, decay, and generation
of another similar individual.t In the second stage, plants are
left out, but all animals remain ; the Sentient Soul, belonging
to animals, but not belonging to any plants, connotes all the
functions and faculties of the Nutritive Soul, together with
sensible perception (at least in its rudest shape) besides.{| We
proceed onward in the same direction, taking in additional
faculties—the Movent, Appetitive, Phantastic (Imaginative),
Noétic (Intelligent) Soul, and thus diminishing the total of
individuals denoted. But each higher variety of soul continues
to possess all the faculties of the lower. Thus the Sentient
Soul cannot exist without comprehending all the faculties of the
Nutritive, though the Nutritive exists (in plants) without any
* Aristot. De Anima, IT. 4, 415, a. 28, b. 12.
+ In the Aristotelian treatise De Plantis—p. 815, b. 15—it is stated that
Empedokles, Anaxagoras, and Demokritus, all affirmed that plants had both
intellect and cognition, up to a certain moderate point. We do not cite this
treatise as the composition of Aristotle; but it is reasonably good evidence,
in reference to the doctrine of these other philosophers.
+ Aristot. De Anima, I. 5, 411, b. 28.
GRADATION OF SOULS. 629
admixture of the Sentient. Again, the Sentient Soul does not
necessarily possess either memory, imagination, or intellect
(Nous) ; but no soul can be either Imaginative or Noétic, without
being sentient as well as nutritive. The Noétic Soul, as the
highest of all, retains in itself all the lower faculties ; but these
are found to exist apart from it.*
We may remark here that the psychological classification of
Aristotle proceeds in the inverse direction to that of Plato. In
the Platonic Timzus, we begin with the grand soul of the
Kosmos, and are conducted by successive steps of degradation
to men, animals, plants; while Aristotle lays his foundation in
the largest, most multiplied, and lowest range of individuals,
carrying us by successive increase of conditions to the fewer and
the higher.
The lowest or Nutritive soul, in spite of the small number of
conditions involved in it, is the indispensable basis whereon all
the others depend. None of the other Souls can exist apart from
it.t It is the first constituent of the living individual—the
implication of Form with Matter in a natural body suitably
organized ; it is the preservative of the life of the individual,
with its aggregate of functions and faculties, and with the
proper limits of size and shape that characterize the species ;}
it is moreover the preservative of perpetuity to the species,
inasmuch as it prompts and enables each individual to generate
and leave behind a successor like himself; such is the only way
that an individual can obtain quasi-immortality, though all
of them aspire to become immortal.§ This lowest soul is the
primary cause of digestion and nutrition. It is cognate with
the celestial heat, which is essential also as a co-operative cause ;
accordingly all animated bodies possess an inherent natural heat.||
* Aristot. De Anima, IT. 2, 413, a. 25-30, b. 32 ; IT. 3, 414, b. 30, 415, a. 10.
+ Aristot. De Animé, II. 4, 415, a. 24. wpwrn Kat Kowordry dvvapes
€or Yuxiisy Kka0’ py umdpxet TO cH dmacw, 415, b. 9. tod CHYTOS
FWMLAaTOS aitia. Kai apxy. gt Re 12, 434, a. 22-30, b. 24.—Aristot. De
Respiratione, 8, 474, a. 30, b. 11.
+ Aristot. De Anima, II. 4, 416, a. 17.
§ Aristot. De Anima, II. 4, 415, b. 2, 416, b. 25. éwei & aro tod
séXous aavta mpooayopevev dixaiov, TéLos O€ TO YEvVAcaL oLov avTo,
ely av 9 mpwrn Wux7 yevyyntixn ocov av7o, Also De Generat. Animal.
II. 1, 781, b. 33.
| Aristot. De Anima, IT. 4, 416, a. 10-18, b. 29.
630 PSYCHOLOGY OF ARISTOTLE.
We advance upwards now from the Nutritive Soul to that
higher Soul which is at once Nutritive and Sentient ; for Aristotle
does not follow the example of Plato in recognizing three souls
to one body, but assigns only one and the same soul, though
with multiplied faculties and functions, to one and the same body.
Sensible perception, with its accompaniments, forms the charac-
teristic privilege of the animal as contrasted with the plant.*
Sensible perception admits of many diversities, from the simplest
and rudest tactile sensation, which even the lowest animals cannot
be without, to the full equipment of five senses which Aristotle
declares to be a maximum not susceptible of increase.t| But
the sentient faculty, even in its lowest stage, indicates a remark-
able exaltation of the Soul in its character of Form. The Soul,
qué sentient and percipient, receives the Form of the Perceptum
without the matter; whereas the nutritive Soul cannot discon-
nect the two, but receives and appropriates the nutrient sub-
stance, Form and Matter in one and combined.{ Aristotle illus-
trates this characteristic feature of sensible perception by recurring
to his former example of the wax and the figure. Just as wax
receives from a signet the impression engraven thereon, whether
the matter of the signet be iron, gold, stone, or wood; as the
impression stamped has no regard to the matter, but reproduces
only the figure engraven on the signet; the wax being only
potential and undefined, until the signet comes to convert it into
something actual and definite ;§ so the percipient faculty in man
is impressed by the substances in nature, not according to the
matter of each, but according to the qualitative form of each.
Such passive receptivity is the first and lowest form of sensation, ||
* Aristot. De Sensu et Sensili, c. 1, p. 486,b. 12. He considers sponges
to have some sensation—Hist. Animal, I. 487, b. 9.
+ Aristot. De Anima, IT. 3, 414, b. 2; III. 1, 424, b. 25, 415, a. 3; IIT.
13, 435, b. 15.
t Aristot. De Anima, IT. 12, 424, a. 32,b. 4. dia 7 rote ta Guta ovK
atcOavetat, €xovTa TL oploy WuxXLKOY Kal TacXOVTA TL UTO THY aTTOV;
Kol yap WexeTar Kat Ocpmaivetar: aitioy yap TO my exEW pmecoTyTA,
poe ToravTny apxny olay ta Eldn SéxecOu THY aicOynTHY, dda TacyxELW
usta THs Udys.
Themistius ad loc., p. 144, ed. Spengel. mduyeu (ta Huta) cvverctovans
Ths Uys TOD ToLodvTos, Ke.
§ Aristot. De Anima, II. 12, 424, a. 20.
|| Aristot. De Anima, IT. 12, 424, a. 25, aicOn7n pov é€ TpWTOv Ev w
7 TOLAVTH dvvajus, &.—III, 12, 434, a. 29.
PROPERTIES OF THE SENTIENT SOUL. 631
not having any magnitude in itself, but residing in bodily organs
which have magnitude, and separable from them only by logical
abstraction. It is a potentiality, correlating with, and in due
proportion to, the exterior Percipibile, which, when acting upon
it, brings it into full actuality. The actuality of both (Percipiens
and Perceptum) is one and the same,.and cannot be disjoined in
fact, though the potentialities of the two are distinct yet correla-
tive; the Percipiens is not like the Percipibile originally, but
becomes like it by being thus actualized.*
The Sentient Soul is communicated by the male parent in the
act of generation,t and is complete from the moment of birth,
not requiring a process of teaching after birth; the Sentient Sub-
ject becomes at once and instantly, in regard to sense, on a level
with one that has attained a certain actuality of cognition, but
which is not at the moment reflecting upon the Cognitum. Poten-
tiality and Actuality are in fact distinguishable into lower and
higher degrees ; the Potential that has been actualized in a
first or lower stage, is still a Potential relatively to higher stages
of Actuality.t The Potential may be acted upon in two opposite
ways; either by deadening and extinguishing it, or by develop-
ing and carrying it forward to realization. The Sentient Soul,
when asleep or inert, requires a cause: to stimulate it into actual
seeing, or hearing; the Noétic or Cognizant Soul, under
like circumstances, must also be stimulated into actual medita-
tion on its cognitum. But there is this difference between the
two. The Sentient Soul communes with particulars; the Noétic
Soul with Universals. The Sentient Soul derives its stimulus
* Aristot. De Animé, LIT 2425. b. 20. 7, 6€ 700 aicOnr0b eveprjeva
Kal THS aicOncews 7 v6 av77 pev €oTt Kat pia, TO ro efvat ov TAUTOV avtats,
—II. 5, 418, a. 3. ‘ro 3 aiaOntiKov Suvaper €otiv olov TO aioOyrOv 7 oy
évtehex g—maoX et pev ovv ovxX Omoltov ov, werov0os & WMOLWTAL KAaL
€otiv otov éxeivo.—Also, 417, a. 7-14-20.
There were conflicting doctrines current in Aristotle’s time; some said
that for an agent to act upon a patient, there must be /ikeness between the
two; others said that there must be wnlikeness. Aristotle dissents from both,
and adopts a sort of intermediate doctrine—415, a. 30, 416, a. 10.
+ Aristot. De Gener. Animal., II. 5, 741, a. 14, b. 7; De Anima, IT. 5,
417, b.'17.
+ Aristot. De Anima, IT. 5, 417, b. 18-31. See above, p. 623, note ft.
The extent of Potentiality, or the partial Actuality, which Aristotle
claims for the sentient Soul even at birth, deserves to be kept in mind: we
shall contrast it presently with what he says about the Nous.
632 PSYCHOLOGY OF ARISTOTLE.
from without, and from some of the individual objects, tangible,
visible, or audible; but the Noétic Soul is put into action by
the abstract and universal, which is in a certain sense within the
Soul itself; so that a man can at any time meditate on what he
pleases, but he cannot see or hear what he pleases, or anything
except such visible or audible objects as are at hand.*
We have already remarked, that in many animals the Sentient
Soul is little developed ; being confined in some to the sense of
Touch (which can never be wanting),+ and in others to Touch
and Taste. But even this minimum of Sense—though small, if
compared with the variety of senses in man—is a prodigious
step in advance of plants ; it comprises a certain cognition, and
within its own sphere it is always critical, comparing, discrimi-
native.{ The Sentient Soul possesses this discriminative faculty
in common with the Noétic Soul or Intelligence, though applied
to different objects and purposes; and possesses such faculty,
because it is itself a mean or middle term between the two
sensible extremes of which it takes cognizance,—hot and cold,
hard and soft, wet and dry, white and black, acute and grave,
bitter and sweet, light and darkness, visible and invisible, tangible
and intangible, &c. We feel no sensation at all when the object
touched is exactly of the same temperature with ourselves,
neither hotter nor colder; the Sentient Soul, being a mean be-
tween the two extremes, is stimulated to assimilate itself for the
time to either of them, according as it is acted upon from without.
It thus makes comparison of each with the other, and of both
with its own mean.§ Lastly, the sentient faculty in the Soul is
* Aristot. De Anima, IT. 5, 417, b. 20-265 ; IIT. 8, 427, b. 18. Attvov dé
om. TwY Ka’ éxactoV y Kat’ evepyetav aioOn ats, 9 © émiotnun THY
xaQoXov: tadta & év avTn TWS EOTL 7H Wu Xi
+ Aristot. De Anim4, III. 12,.434,'b. 24. Qavepov om odx olov Te
dvev apis etvar Cwov.
t Aristot. De Anima, III. 9, a. 16. 7 xpitixw, 0 dtavotas epyov oti
kat aioOnoews.—III. 3, 427, a. 20, 426, b. 10-15. De Generat. Animal., I. 23,
731, a. 32, b.. 5; De Somno et Vigil., c. 1, 458, b. 2. The sentient faculty is
called é¥vapuv cvpputov kpitecynv.—Analyt. Poster., IT. 19, p. 99, b. 34.
§ Aristot. De Anima, II. 10, 422, a. 20; Il. 421, b. 4, 11, 423, b. 31,
424, a. 10. Kai Oud TovTO Kpiver 7a aiaOyra—ro yap pécov Kperixov.—
III. i, 431,a.10. €o71 70 poeaOar kal umeiaOa TO Evepyety TH aiaOyriK i
mesoTn Te mpos TO ayaOov 7} KaKor, 7 Totavta,—III. 18, 435, a. 21.
He remarks that plants have no similar pecotnta—424, b. 1.
OBJECTS GENERATING SENSIBLE PERCEPTION. 633
really one and indivisible, though distinguishable logically or by
abstraction into different genera and species.* Of that faculty
the central physical organ is the heart, which contains the con-
genital or animal spirit. (The Aristotelian psychology is here
remarkable, affirming as it does the essential relativity of all phe-
nomena of sense to the appreciative condition of the Sentient ; as
well as the constant implication of intellectual and discriminative
comparison among them.)
All the objects generating sensible perception, are magni-
tudes.t Some perceptions are peculiar to one sense alone, as
colour to the eye, &c. Upon these we never make mistakes
directly ; in other words, we always judge rightly what is the
colour or what is the sound, though we are often deceived in
judging what the thing coloured is, or where the sonorous object
is. There are, however, some perceivables not peculiar to any
one sense alone, but appreciable by two or more; though chiefly
and best, by the sense of vision; such are Motion, Rest, Number,
Figure, Magnitude. Here the appreciation becomes less accu-
rate, yet itis still made directly by sense. But there are yet
other matters that, though not directly affecting sense, are per-
ceived indirectly, or by way of accompaniment to what is directly
perceived. Thus we see a white object ; nothing else affecting
our sense except its whiteness. Beyond this, however, we judge
and declare, that the object so seen is the son of Diares. ‘This is
a judgment obtained indirectly, or by way of accompaniment; by
accident, so to speak, inasmuch as the same does not accompany
all sensations of white. It is here that we are most liable to
error. ||
* Aristot. De Sensu et Sensili, c. 7, 140, a. 8-17; De Motu Animal., 10,
703, a. 15 ; De Somno et Vigil., c. 2, 455, a. 15-21-35, 456, a. 5; De Juventute
et Senect., 467, b. 27, 469, a. 4-12 ; De Partibus Animalium, III. 656, a. 10-16,
657, b. 24.
+ Aristot. De Sensu et Sensili, c. 7, 449, a. 20, 70 aicOntov wav cor
peéryeOos.
t Aristot. De Anima, II. 6, 418, a. 10-15.
2 Aristot. De Sensu et Sensili, c. 1, 437, a. 8, c. 4, 442, b. 3-12. He says
in this last passage, that the common perceivables are appreciable at least by
both sight and toueh—if not by all the senses.
|| Aristot. De Anima, II. 6, 418, a, 7-25. Neyetae dé TO alcOnTov
Tpix@s, wy dvo pev Kul” avta Papev aicOavecOa, 70 dé €y «ata
ovpBeByxos.—Also, III, 1, 425, a. 25; III. 3, 428, b. 18-25.
634 PSYCHOLOGY OF ARISTOTLE.
Among the five senses, Aristotle distinguishes two as operating
by direct contact between Subject and Object (Touch, Taste) ;
three as operating through an external intervening medium
(Vision, Smell, Taste). He begins with Vision, which he re-
gards as possessing most completely the nature and characteristics
of a Sense.* The direct and proper object of vision is, colour.
Now, colour operates upon the eye not immediately ; for if the
coloured object be placed in contact with the eye, there will be no
vision ; but by causing movements. or perturbations in the external
intervening medium, air-or water; which affect the sense through
an appropriate agency of their own.t This agency is, according
to Aristotle, the Diaphanous or Transparent. When actual or in
energy, the Transparent is called Light; when potential or in
capacity only, it is ealled Darkness. The eye is of watery
structure, apt for receiving these impressions.{ It is the pre-
sence either of fire, or of something analogous to the celestial
body, that ealls forth the Diaphanous from the state of Potenti-
ality into that of Actuality or Light; in which latter condition it
is stimulated by colour. The Diaphanous, whether as Light or as
Darkness, is a peculiar nature or accompaniment, not substantive
in itself, but inherent chiefly in the First or Celestial Body, yet also
in air, water, glass, precious stones, and in all bodies to a greater
or less degree.§ The Diaphanous passes at once and simultane-
ously, in one place as well as in another, from Potentiality to Actu-
* Aristot. De Anim4, IIT. 8, 429, a. 2. 7 ores paduota aicOnois eat.
—Also, Metaphysica, A. init.
+ Aristot. De Anima, II. 7, 419, a. 12-14-19 ; Aristot. De Sensu et Sensili,
c. 3, 440, a. 18. wor evOvs KpeltTov pavat, Tw Kiveta@at TO petago THs
aicOjcews U70 Tov ataOnTod yiveaBat TY aloOyaw, apy kai py Tats
drroppotas. .—Ib. c. 2, p. 438, b. 5e etre pars 6t7 anp éote 70 peragy Tod
opwpéevov KaiTo0 Ompatos, y Sua TovTOV Kivyais éotiv y ToLodGU TO
poe
t Aristot. De Anima, II. 7, 419, a. 9. TOUTO. yap HY ad’TH TO Xpwpare
clva, TO KLWNTLK Elvat TOD KaT’ évEepyelav Stapavods: 9 © évtedéxeua
Tov Seapavove pis €otiv, —418, b. 12-17, ota o] eévredex eta Suapaves
UTr0 mUpos } towovtov olov 76 dvw o@ma—TUpos 7 ToLovTOV TLVOS
mapovata év Tu Suapaver,
§ Aristot. De Anima, II. 7, 418, b. 5; De Sensu et Sensili, c. 2, 438,
a. 14, b. 7, c. 8, 489, a. 21, seq. 0 d€ Aéyouey duahaves, ovK ear iOvov
depos 7 veaTos, ov ddXov Tay ovUTW eyomevwy owparwr, anna tis éori
Kowvt) gras kat duvapus, 7) 7) Xwptory) pev ove €attv, €v tovtos & ati
Kai Tots ddXNols owpaoww evuTapxel, Tots pevy pmadAov, Tots de AITO,
VISION. © 635
ality—from Darkness to Light. Light does not take time to
travel from one place to another, as sound and smell do.* The
Diaphanous is not a body, nor effluvia from a body, nor any one
of the elements ; it is of an adjective character—a certain agency
or attribute pervading or belonging to bodies, along with their
extension.t Colour marks and defines the surface of the body
qué Diaphanous, as figure defines it gud extended. Colour
makes the Diaphanous itself visible, and its own varieties
visible through the Diaphanous. Air and water are transparent
throughout, though with an ill-defined superficial colour. White
and black, as colours on solid bodies, correspond to the condition
of light or darkness in air. There are some luminous objects
visible in the dark, as fire, fungous matter, eyes, and scales of
fish, &c., though they have no appropriate colour.{ There are
seven species or varieties of colours, but all of them proceed
from white and black, blended in different proportions, or seen
one through another ; white and black are the two extremes, the
other varieties being intermediate between them.
The same necessity for an imtervening medium external to
the Subject, as in the case of Vision, prevails also in the Senses of
Hearing and Smell. If the audible or odorous object be placed
in eqntact with its organ of Sense, there will be no hearing or
smell. Whenever we hear or smell any object, there must be
interposed between us and the object a suitable medium that
shall be affected first; while the organ of Sense will be affected
secondarily through that medium. Air is the medium in regard ,
to Sound, both Air and Water in regard to Smell; but there
seems besides (analogous to the Transparent in regard to Vision)
* Aristot. De Sensu et Sensili, c. 6, 446, a. 28, seq., b. 27, 447, b. 9.
Tw eivar yap Tt Piss eotiv, GAN ov Ktvyais ts.—Empedokles affirmed that
light travelling from the Sun reached the intervening space before it came to
the earth; Aristotle contradicts him.
+ Aristot. De Animé, II. 7, 418, b. 19. core bé TO GKOTOS orépnaws
THs ToLav7ys éfews ex Erahavods, wote Oijov o ore Kat y TOUTOV Tapovata
pis 7) 7. —Aristot. De Sensu et Sensili,c. 3. pev ovy Tov dwros pros
év adpiorw TH Stapavet €oTlv * TOY & év Tots owhace dindavovs 70
eoyatov, oT mev av etn Tl, dfjhov * O7t 6€ TOUTO €aTL TO xpepa, éx Tey
oumPawovrTwy pavepov—ceort pev Yap év TW TOO GwLATOS mepart, adn’
ovre 70 TOO owparos Tepas, aha TY auTnV Pvow et vouiCew, HIrEp
kai €£w xpwpatiCetat, TavTNV Kal EvTos,
t Aristot. De Anima, IT. 7, 419, a. 2-24; Aristot. De Sensu et Sensili,
c. 4, 442, a. 21, seven colours.
636 PSYCHOLOGY OF ARISTOTLE.
a special agency called the Trans-Sonant, which pervades air and
enables it to transmit Sound; and certainly another special
agency called the Trans-Olfacient, which pervades both air and
water, and enables them to transmit Smell.* (It seems thus
that something like a Luminiferous Ether—extended, mobile,
and permeating bodies, yet still incorporeal in itself—was an
hypothesis as old as Aristotle ; and one other Hther besides,
analogous in property and purpose—an Odoriferous Hther ;
perhaps a third or Soniferous Ether, but this is less distinctly
specified by Aristotle),
Sound, according to Aristotle, arises from the shock of two
or more solid bodies communicated to the air. It implies local
movement in one at least of those bodies. Many soft bodies are
incapable of making sound ; those best suited for it are such as
metals, hard in structure, smooth in surface, hollow in shape.
The blow must be smart and quick, otherwise the air slips away
and dissipates itself before the sound can be communicated to
it.t Sound is communicated through the air to the organ of
hearing; the air is one Continuum (not composed of adjacent
particles with interspaces), and a wave is propagated from it to
the internal ear; which (7.e. the ear) contains some air enclosed
in the sinuous ducts within the membrane of the tympanum,
congenitally attached to the organ itself, and endued with a
certain animation.{ This internal air within the ear, excited by
* Aristot. De Anima, II. 7, 419, a. 25-35 ; De Sensu et Sensili, c. 5, 442,
b. 80; Themistius ad Aristot. De Anima, II. 7-8, p. 115, Spengel.
70 dsahuvés—zo dinyés—rto déocpov. The two last names are not distinctly
stated by Aristotle, but are said to have been first applied by Theophrastus
after him. See the notes of Trendelenburg and Torstrick ; the latter supposes
Themistius to have had before him a fuller and better text of Aristotle than
that which we now possess, which seems corrupt. In our present text, the
Transparent as well as the Trans-olfacient Ether are clearly indicated; the
Trans-sonant, not clearly.
+ Aristot. De Anima, I. 8, 419, b. 10-25. Hee calls air yaOupos—
evOpumtos—(420, a. 1-8). (evdiarpetos evod.oOos. Themistius, p. 116,
117, Sp. —“‘ quod facilé diffluit.”—Trendelenburg, Comm., p. 384.) He says
that for sonorous purposes, air ought to be a@podv—compact or dense:
petty reverberates best from metals with smooth surface—420, a. 25.
+ Aristot. De Anima, II. 8, 419, b. 34, 420, a. 5. ovtos 6 (0 ap)
éotty 0 TOWDV dxovew, OTav Kan} oUvexi)s Kal els—aogytiKoy pev
oy 70 KUvyTiKOY Evos dépos suvex eta HEX pus axojjs, axor O€ ouppuys
anp: &a 6€ 70 év dépt civat, Kwoupevov Tod Ew 70 elaw Kier. d.o7rep
HEARING. 637
the motion propagated from the external ear, causes hearing. The
ear is enabled to appreciate accurately the movements of the exter-
nal air, because it has itself little or no movement within. We
cannot hear with any other part of the body ; because it is only
in the ear that nature has given us this stock of internal air.
If water gets into the ear, we cannot hear at all; because
the wave generated in the air without, cannot propagate itself
within. Nor can we hear if the membrane of the ear be
disordered ; any more than we can see when the membrane of
the eye is disordered.*
Voice is a kind of sound peculiar to animated beings ; yet not
belonging to all of them, but only to those that inspire the air.
Nature employs respiration for two purposes ; the first, indispen-
sable, to animal life—that of cooling and tempering the excessive
heat of the heart and its adjacent parts; the second, not indis-
pensable to life, yet most valuable to the higher faculties of man
—significant speech. The organ of respiration is the larynx;
a man cannot speak either when inspiring or expiring, but only
when retaining and using the breath within. The Soul in those
parts, when guided by some phantasm or thought, impels the air
within against the walls of the trachea, and this shock causes
vocal sounds.t
Aristotle seems to have been tolerably satisfied with the above
explanations of Sight and Hearing ; for in approaching the Sense
of Smell with the Olfacients, he begins by saying that it is less
definable and explicable. Among the five senses, Smell stands
ov maven 70 Ciov dxovel, ovde mav7n Step eTae 0 dnp ov yap mavTn
eee dépa T0 KWyoomevov pepos Kal euabuxov—bua Tas €Xtkas—420, a. 13.
The text of this passage is not satisfactory. It has been much criticised
as well as amended by Torstrick—see his Comment., p. 148 or 151. We
cannot approve his alteration of éuvyov into éuysopor.
* Aristot. De Animé, If. 8, 420, a. 10. 0 & év tots wow eyraTwpko-
Sopytac mpos 70 axivyntos eival, Orws dxpiBos aioOavytat Tacas Tas
deapopas THs Kingews, —420, a. ral ové (axovomev) dv y pwyviyE Kann,
wamep TO emt 7] Kopy dépua oTav Kapy.
+ Aristot. De Anima, I. 8, 420, ‘b. 5-16- 25- 32, 421, a. 2. wote 7
my) TOU dvamveouevou depos ume Tis év TOUTOLS TOLS popious yoxys
pwvyy coTW, Ov yap was Cwov ones pwr, kaGarrep eivromev, (€ott
yap Kal 7 yurry Yopetv Kal WS o8 Byrrovres) ana et emyuxov Té
eivat 70 TUTTOV Kat pea puvtacias TLWOS* onmavTuKos yap oy TUS Yopos
cot 1) Qwvy* Kai ov Tod dvamveopcvov dépos, wo7ep 7 Bye, adda
ToUTW TUTTE TOV eV 77 aptypia mpos abryv.
638 PSYCHOLOGY OF ARISTOTLE.
intermediate between the two (Taste and Touch) that operate
by direct contact, and the other two (Sight and Hearing) that
operate through an external medium. Man is below other ani-
mals in this sense; he discriminates little in smells except the
pleasurable and the painful.* His taste, though analogous in
many points to smell, is far more accurate and discriminating,
because taste is a variety of touch; and in respect to touch, man
is the most discriminating of all animals. Hence his great supe-
riority to them in practical wisdom. Indeed the marked difference
of intelligence between one man and another, turns mainly upon
the organ of touch; men of hard flesh (or skin) are by nature dull
in intelligence, men of soft flesh are apt and clever.t The classi-
fying names of different smells are borrowed from the names of
the analogous tastes to which they are analogous—sweet, bitter,
tart, dry, sharp, smooth, &c.{ Smells take effect through air as
well as through water; by means of a peculiar agency or accom-
paniment (mentioned above, called the Trans-Olfacient) pervading
both one and the other. It is peculiar to man that he cannot
smell except when inhaling air iu the act of inspiration ; any one
may settle this for himself by making the trial.§ But fishes and
other aquatic animals, who never inhale air, can smell in the water;
and this proves that the trans-olfacient agency is operative to
transmit odours not less in water than in air.|| We know that
the sense of smell in these aquatic animals is the same as it is in
man, because the same strong odours that are destructive to man
are also destructive to them. Smell is the parallel, and in a
certain sense the antithesis of taste ; smell is of the dry, taste is
* Aristot. De Anima, IT. 9, 421, a. 7-12; Aristot. De Sensu et Sensili, c.
5, 445, a. 6, c. 4, 441, a. 1; De Partibus Animal., II. 2. 656, a. 31, 657, a. 9.
+ Aristot. De Anima, II. 9, 421, a. 17-27. «ata dé tHYv apy TOME
THY a\hwy Cwwr éuagpepdvrws ax piBot (0 avOpwros): d:0 Kai dpovr-
purtaroy EoTt THY Cwwr. on petov 6€ TO Kai ev Tw yéver THY avOpwrwy
Tapa 70 aioOn Th piov todT0 elvac evpvets Kat ighvets, map’ aXXo 6e
pwndév* of wev yap okAnpocapKca avers Tv diavoway, of d€ madako-
capkot evpvets.
t Aristot. De Anima, IT. 9, 421, a. 27-382.
§ Aristot. De Anima, IL. 9, 421, b. 9-19. 70 dvev tod dvarvety By
atoOavecOa, vdiov ei tHv dvOpwrwy: SHrov oé TELpwMEVOLS. He
seems to think that this is not true of any animal other than man.
| Aristot. De Sensu et Sensili, c. 5, 448, a. 3-81, 444, b. 9.
@ Aristot. De Anima, II. 9, 421, b. 24. He instances brimstone,
dapadtos, &e.
SMELL.—TASTE. 639
of the moist; the olfactory matter is a juicy or sapid dryness,
extracted or washed out from both air and water by the trans-
olfacient agency, and acting on the sensory potentialities of the
nostrils.* This olfactory inhalation is warm as well as dry.
Hence it is light, and rises easily to the brain, the moisture and
coldness of which it contributes to temper ; this is.a very salutary
process, for the brain is the wettest and coldest part of the body,
and requiring warm and dry influences as a corrective. It is
with a view to this correction that Nature has placed the olfactory
organ in such close proximity to the brain.t There are two
kinds of olfactory impressions; one of them akin to the sense of
taste—odour and savour going together—an affection (to a great
degree) of the nutritive soul ; so that the same odour is agreeable
when we are hungry, disagreeable when our hunger is fully satis-
fied. This first kind of impressions is common to men with other
animals; but there is a second, peculiar to man, and disconnected
from the sense of taste :—viz., the scent of flowers, unguents, &c.,
which are agreeable or disagreeable constantly, and per se.t
Nature has assigned this second kind of odours as a privilege to
man, because his brain, being so large and moist, requires to be
tempered by an additional stock of drying and warming olfactory
influence.
Taste is a variety of touch, and belongs to the lower or
* This is difficult to understand, but it seems to be what Aristotle here
means—De Anima, II. 9, 422, a. 6. éot & 7 ooun tov Enpod, wWomep O
Xuwos TOD Vypoo- TO 6 coppavtTiKcoy aioOn71 ptov Suvaper ToLovTOY.—
De Sensu et Sensili, c, 5, 443, a. 1-9, €or o ooppavtov ovx 4 duahaves,
ann’ 4 Ney Kat pumriKoy ey XUpwou Eyporntos—y ev eye TOU
éyxdpmov Enpow vais oop), Kat ooppavroy 70 TowovTov OTe ° amrav
xXvpod est TO wa0os, Sfiov ex THY EXovTWY Kat wy EXOVTWY oomyY,
&c. Also, 443, b. 3-7.
In the Treatise De Sensu et Sensili, there is one passage (c. 2, 438, b.
24), wherein Aristotle affirms that smell is carvwdys dvaOupiacrs, éx rupos;
but we also find a subsequent passage (c. 5, 443, a, 21, seq.) where he cites
that same doctrine as the opinion of others, but distinctly refutes it.
+ Aristot. De Sensu et Sensili, c. 5, 444, a. 10-22-25, b. 1. 9 yap tis
oouhs Cvvauts Oepun tHv Pvow éotiv.
t Aristot. De Sensu et Sensili, c 5, 443, b. 17, 444, a. 6-15-30.
iiov 6€ THs Tod avOpwrov Hvaews €ott TO THs OsMAS THS ToLavTHS YEevos
dia 10 mrEtaTtov éyKeparov kal bypotatoy exew THY CwwY ws KATA
peryeOos.
Plato also reckons the pleasures of smell among the pure and admissible
pleasures—(Philebus, p. 51 E.; Timzus, p. 65 A., 67 A.)
640 PSYCHOLOGY OF ARISTOTLE.
Nutritive Soul, as a guide to the animal in seeking or avoiding
different sorts of food. The Object of Taste is essentially liquid,
often strained and extracted from dry food by warmth and
moisture. The primary manifestation of this sensory pheno-
menon is the contrast of Drinkable and Undrinkable.* The
organ of Taste, the tongue, is a mean between dryness and
moisture; when either of these is in excess, the organ is dis-
ordered. Among the varieties of taste, there are two fundamental
contraries—as in colour, sound, and the objects of the other
senses except touch—from which the other contrasts are derived.
These fundamentals in taste are sweet and bitter; corresponding
to white and black, acute and grave, in colours and sounds. The
sense of taste is potentially sweet or bitter; the gustable object
is what makes it sweet or bitter in actuality.+
The sense of Touch, in which man surpasses all other
animals, differs from the other senses by not having any two
fundamental contraries giving origin: to the rest, but by having
various contraries alike fundamental. It is thus hardly one
sense, but an aggregate of several senses. It appreciates the
elementary differences of body qué body—hot, cold, dry, moist,
hard, soft, &c. It is a mean between each of these two extremes ;
being potentially either one of them, and capable of being made
to assimilate itself actually to either.{ In this sense, the tangible
object operates when in contact with the skin; and, as has been
already said, much of the superiority of man depends upon
his superior fineness and delicacy of skin.§ Still Aristotle
remarks that the true organ of touch is not the skin or flesh, but
something interior to the flesh. This last serves only as a
peculiar medium. The fact that the sensation arises when the
* Aristot. De Anima, II. 10, 422, a. 30-33; De Sensu et’ Sensili, c. 1,
436, b. 15, 4, 441, b. 18. dua tod Enpoe Kal cyst Sbos bij 9000a aC) pious)
Kal KLVovoE TW Oeppp 7oLov Tt TO dypov mapacKevatel, Kat éort TOUTO
XUwos TO yeyvomevov vTo TAO eipyjuevov Enpoo maQos év TH VYpH.——
b. 24. ob wavtos Enpod adda 70d tpopipov.
+ Aristot. De Anima, II. 10, 422, b. 5-15; II. 11, 422, b. 28. vasa
atoOnous peas évavtiuacews eivar doxet, &e.
t Aristot. De Anima, II. 11, 422, b. 17-25, 428, b. 5-27, a. 424, a. 3-10.
§ Aristot. Histor. Animal., I. 15, 494, b. 17. Man is Newrodeppotatos
Tov Cwwr (Aristot. De Partib. Animal. II. 657, b. 2), and has the tongue
also looser and softer than any of them, most fit for variety of touch (660,
a. 20) as well as for articulate speech.
TOUCH. 641
object touches our skin, does not prove that the skin is the true
organ ; for if there existed a thin exterior membrane surrounding
our bodies, we should still feel the same sensation. Moreover, the
body is not in real contact with our skin, though it appears to be
so; there is a thin film of air between the two, though we do
not perceive it; just as when we touch an object under water,
there is a film of water interposed between, as is seen by the
wetness of the finger.* The skin is, therefore, not the true
organ of touch, but a medium between the object and the organ;
and this sense does in reality agree with the other senses in
having a certain medium interposed between object and organ.
But there is this difference; in touch, the medium is close to and
a part of ourselves; in sight and hearing, it is exterior to our-
selves, and may extend to some distance. In sight and hearing,
the object does not affect us directly; it affects the external
medium, which again affects us. But in touch, the object affects,
at the same time and by the same influence, both the medium
and the interior organ; lke a spear that, with the same thrust,
pierces the warrior’s shield and wounds the warrior himself.t
Apparently, therefore, the true organ of touch is something
interior, and skin and flesh is an interposed medium.{ But
what this interior organ is, Aristotle does not more particularly
declare. He merely states it to be in close and intimate com-
munication with the great central focus and principle of all
sensation—the heart;§ more closely connected with the heart
* Aristot. De Anima, IT. 11, 422, b. 25-32.
+ Aristot. De Anima, II. 11, 423, a. 5-17. Seageper 70 aTOV THY
opatisy kal TOV popytiKciy OTL éxervwy pev aicOavopcBa Tw TO petagu
7OLely Te nuas, tev be arti ovx ono TOU petakv GN dua 7 petakd,
Wamp 6 80 domidos TANYEls* od Yap y doris TANYEtOU éxdtater, adr’
an dudw cvveByn whyyqvat.
This analogy, of the warrior pierced at the same time with his shield,
illustrates Aristotle’s view of the eighth Category—Habere: of which he
gives wr\toTa as the example. He considers a man’s clothes and defensive
weapons as standing in a peculiar relation to him, like a personal appurten-
ance, and almost as a part of himself. It is under this point of view that he
erects Hadere into a distinct Category.
t Aristot. De Anima, II. 11, 423, b. 23-26. oi kai éfNov OTe evtos 70
Tod amtov aicOntikov—to0 peTaEv TOD ar7LKod OT] oapé.
§ Aristot. De Partibus Animal., II. 10, 656, a. 30; De Vita et Morte,
c. 3, 469, a. 12; De Somno et Vigil., c. 2, 455, a. 23; De Sensu et Sensili,
c. 2, 439, a. 2
41
642 PSYCHOLOGY OF ARISTOTLE.
(he appears to think) than any of the other organs of sense,
though all of them are so connected more or less closely.
Having gone through the five senses seriatim, Aristotle offers
various reasons to prove that there neither are, nor can be,
more than five ; and then discusses some complicated phenomena
of sense. We perceive that we see or hear ;* do we perceive this
by sight or by hearing? and if not, by what other faculty? + Aris-
totle replies by saying that the act of sense is one and the same,
but that it may be looked at in two different points of view. We
see a coloured object; we hear a sound: in each case the act of
sense is one; the energy or actuality of the Visum and, Videns,
of the Sonans and Audiens, is implicated and indivisible. But
the potentiality of the one is quite distinct from the potentiality
of the other, and may be considered as well as named apart.}
When we say—lI perceive that I see—we look at the same act of
vision from the side of the Videns; the Visum being put out of
sight as the unnoticed Correlate. This is a mental fact distinct
from, though following upon, the act of vision itself. Aristotle
refers it rather to that general sentient soul or faculty, of which
the five senses are partial and separate manifestations, than to
the sense of Vision itself. He thus considers what would now
be termed consciousness of a sensation, as being merely the sub-
jective view of the sensation, distinguished by abstraction from
the objective.
It is the same general sentient faculty, though diversified and
logically distinguishable in its manifestations, that enables us to
conceive many sensations as combined in one; and to compare or
discriminate sensations belonging to different senses. ||
White and sweet are perceived by two distinct senses, and at
* In modern psychology, the language would be—‘“ We are conscious that
we see or hear.” But Sir William Hamilton has remarked that the word
Consciousness has no equivalent usually or familiarly employed, in the Greek
psychology.
+ Aristot. De Anima, IIT. 2, 425, b. 14.
{ Aristot. De Anima, IIT, 2, 425, b. 26, 426, a. 16-19.
§ Aristot. De Somno et Vigil., c. 2, 455, a. 12-17; Aristot. De Anima,
III. 2, with Torstrick’s note, p. 166, and the exposition of Alexander of
Aphrodisias therein cited. These two passages of Aristotle are to a certain
extent different, yet not contradictory, though Torstrick supposes them to
be so.
|| Aristot. De Sensu et Sensili, c. 7, 449, a. 9-20.
THE SENTIENT SOUL ONE AND INDIVISIBLE. 643
two distinct moments of time; but they must be compared and
discriminated by one and the same sentient or cogitant act, and
at one moment of time.* This mental act, though in itself indi-
visible, has yet two aspects, and is thus in a certain sense divi-
sible ; just as a point taken in the middle of a line, while indivi-
sible in itself, may be looked upon as the closing terminus of
one-half of the line, and as the commencing terminus of the other
half. The comparison of two different sensations or thoughts is
thus one and the same mental fact, with two distinguishable
aspects.t
Aristotle devotes a chapter to the enquiry—whether we can
perceive two distinct sensations at once (¢.e., in one and the same
moment of time). He decides that we cannot; that the sentient
Soul or faculty is one and indivisible, and can only have a single
energy or actuality at once.t If two causes of sensation are
operative together, and cne of them be much superior in force, it
will render us insensible to the other. He remarks that when
we are preoccupied with loud noise, or with deep reflection,
or with intense fright, visual objects will often pass by
us unseen and unnoticed.§ Often the two simultaneous sensa-
tions will combine or blend into one compound, so that we shall
feel neither of them purely or separately.|| One single act of
sensational energy may however have a double aspect; as the
same individual object may be at once white and sweet, though
its whiteness and its sweetness are logically separable.{
To the sentient soul, even in its lowest manifestations, belong
* Aristot. De Anima, III. 2, 426, b. 18-12. ove 67) KEX WPLoMEVoLS
evdexeTas Kpivery OTL ETEpov TO YAUKU TOD AevKoV, ara Set Evd TiML
dudw dra eivar—ée? dé 70 tv Néyeuw Ott Etepov* ETEpov yap TO ydUKY
Tod hevKod—axXwptotoy Kai év dxwplotw ypovw.—b. 29, also III. 7, 431,
a. 20.
* Aristot. De Anima, III. 2, 427, a. 10-14. WoTreEp iy Kahovot tives
oTHry uy, 7 uid Kat d bv0, Tar Kai abiaiperos Kai deaupern i] pev our
dévaiperov, EV TO Kpivov €oTL Kal apa, ] dé diaipetov vrapxet, ovy ev" dis
yap Tw avTw XpHta on jer) dma,
It i is to be remarked that in explaining this mental process of comparison,
Aristotle, three several times, applies it both to aic@yovs and to voyas
426, b. 22-31, 427, a. 9.
t Aristot. De. Sensu et Sensili, c. 7, 449, a. 8-17.
§ Aristot. De Sensu et Sensili, c. 7, 447, a. 15.
|| Aristot. De Sensu et Sensili, c. 7, 447, b. 12-20.
Aristot. De Sensu et Sensili, c. 7, 449, a. 14-18.
644 PSYCHOLOGY OF ARISTOTLE.
the feelings of pleasure and pain, appetite and aversion.* The
movements connected with these feelings, as with all sensation,
begin and close with the central organ—the heart.t Upon these’
are consequent the various passions and emotions; yet not with-
out certain faculties of memory and phantasy accompanying or
following the facts of sense.
Aristotle proceeds by gradual steps upward from the sentient
Soul to the Noétic (cogitant or intelligent) Soul—called in its
highest perfection, Nous. While refuting the doctrine of Empe-
dokles, Demokritus, and other philosophers, who considered cogi-
tation or intelligence to be the same as sensible perception, and
while insisting upon the distinctness of the two as mental pheno-
mena,{ he recognizes the important point of analogy between them,
that both of them include judgment and comparison; and he
describes an intermediate stage called phantasy or imagination,
forming the transition from the lower of the two to the higher.
We have already observed that in the Aristotelian psychology,
the higher functions of the Soul presuppose and are built upon
the lower as their foundation, though the lower do not necessa-
rily involve the higher. Without nutrition, there is no sense ;
without sense, there is no phantasy ; without phantasy, there is
no cogitation or intelligence.§ The higher psychical phenomena
are not identical with the lower, yet neither are they independent
thereof; they presuppose the lower as a part of their conditions.
Here, and indeed very generally elsewhere, Aristotle has been
careful to avoid the fallacy of confounding or identifying the con-
ditions of a phenomenon with the phenomenon itself. (Mill’s
System of Logic, Book V. ch. 3, § 8.)
He proceeds to explain Phantasy or the Phantastic depart-
ment of the Soul—the Phantasms that belong to it. It is not
sensible perception, nor belief, nor opinion, nor knowledge,
nor cogitation. Our dreams, though affections of the Sentient
* Aristot. De Anima, II. 3, 414, b. 3-15; III. 7, 431, a.9; De Somno et
Vigil., c. 1, 454, b. 29.
* + Aristot. De Partibus Animalium, III. 4, 666, a. 12.
+ Aristot. De Anima, IIT. 3, 427, a. 25.
§ Aristot. De Anima, III. 3, 427, b. 15. gQavtacia yep eTepov Kat
aisOjcews kai Ovavotas.—III. 7, 481, a.16. oddézote voet dvev pavtac-
patos 7 Wux7-—De Memoria et Reminiscent. c. 1, 449, b. 31. voetv odx
€otv dvev pavtdcpatos.
PHANTASY. 645
Soul, are really phantasms in our sleep, when there is no visual
sensation ; even when awake, we have a phantasm of the Sun,
as of a disk one foot in diameter—though we believe the Sun to
be larger than the Earth.* Many of the lower animals have
sensible perception without any phantasy; even those among
them that have phantasy, have no opinion; for opinion implies
faith, persuasion, and some rational explanation of that persuasion
—to none of which does any animal attain.t Phantasy is an
internal movement of the animated being (body and soul in one) ;
belonging to the Sentient Soul, not to the Cogitant or Intelligent ;
not identical with the movement of sense, but continued from,
or produced by that, and by that alone; accordingly, similar to
the movement of sense and relating to the same matters.{ Since
our sensible perceptions may be either true or false, so also may
be our phantasms. And since these phantasms are not only like our
sensations, but remain standing in the soul long after the objects
of sense have passed away, they are to a great degree the
determining causes both of action and emotion. They are such
habitually to animals, who are destitute of Nous; and often even
to intelligent men, if the Nous be overclouded by disease or
drunkenness. §
In the Chapter now before us, Aristotle is careful to dis-
criminate Phantasy from several other psychological phenomena
wherewith it is lable to be confounded. But we remark with
some surprise, that neither here, nor in any other part of his
general Psychology, does he offer any exposition of Memory, the
phenomenon more nearly approaching than any other to Phan-
tasy. He supplied the deficiency afterwards by the short but valu-
able tract on Memory and Reminiscence ; wherein he recognizes,
and refers to, the more general work on Psychology. Memory
bears on the past, as distinguished both from the present and
* Aristot. De Anima, III. 3, 428, a. 5, b. 3; De Somno et Vig., c. 2,
456,a.25. Kivodvtar & éviot kaOevdortes Kai woLodet TONG EypyyopiKa,
od pévrot avev Pavtdcpatos Kai uicOnoews Tivos’ TO Yap Evimviov éotLy
aisOnua tporoy tTwa.—Ibid., c. 1, 454, b. 10.
+ Aristot. De Anima, IIT. 3, 428, a. 10-22-26.
+ Aristot. De Anima, II]. 3, 428, b. 10-15; De Somniis, c. 1, 459, a, 1E.
2 Aristot. De Anima, III. 3, 428, b. 17. «at wodda Kat adtyy (i. ¢.
kata THY Pavtaciay) Kai roety Kat racxew 70 éxov.—IIl. 3, 429, a. 5.
kal dua TO eupevew Kai opotas eivat (tas Gavtactas) tats aicOnoeo,
moda kat avdtas mpatte: Ta Cua, Ke.
646 PSYCHOLOGY OF ARISTOTLE.
fature.. Memory and Phantasy are in some cases so alike, that
we cannot distinguish clearly whether what is in our minds is a
remembrance or a phantasm.* Both of them belong to the
same psychological department—to the central Sentient principle,
and not to the cogitant or intelligent Nois. Memory as well as
Phantasy are continuations, remnants, or secondary consequences,
of the primary movements of sense ; what in itself is a phantasm,
may become an object of remembrance directly and per se;
matters of cogitation, being included or implicated in phantasms,
may also become objects of remembrance, indirectly and by way
of accompaniment.t We can remember our prior acts of
cogitation and demonstration; we can remember that, a month
ago, we demonstrated the three angles of a triangle to be equal
to two right angles ; but as the original demonstration could not
be carried on without our having before our mental vision the
phantasm of some particular triangle, so neither can the remem-
brance of the demonstration be made present to us without
a similar phantasm.{ In acts of remembrance, we have a con-
ception of past time, and we recognize what is now present to
our minds as a copy of what has been formerly present to us,
either as perception of sense or as actual cognition ;§ while in
phantasms, there is no conception of past time, nor any similar
recognition, nor any necessary reference to our own past
mental states; the phantasm is looked at by itself, and not as
a copy. This is the main point of distinction between phan-
tasm and remembrance ;|| what is remembered is a present
phantasm assimilated to an impression of the past. Some of
the superior animals possess both memory and phantasy. But
other animals have neither; their sensations disappear, they
* Aristot. De Memor. et Remin., c. 1, 451, a. 5, 449, ae 10.
+ Aristot, He Memor. et Remin., Ce 1; 150, “a. 23. Tivos pev ouv Tay
THs Youxijs foptwy ear 7 orgen; pavepov OTL ovmep Kat 4) avracia:
Kal €oTt pvnpovevta kaW’ uvTa pev boa eoti havtastd, Kata cvpBeBnKos
& dou my dvev Pavtacias,
+ Aristot. De Memor. et Rem., c. 1, 449, b. 20-450, a. 12.
§ Aristot. De Memor, et Rem., c. 1, 449, b. 22. det yap drav evepy
Kata TO punpovevery, ovTws ev 7H Wx) Néyet, T+ mpoTepov TodTo
nkOvaED 3} aero évonoer, —452, b. 28,
| Aristot. De Memor. et Rem., c. 1, 450, a. 28, b. 30, 451, a. 15.
TO ynmovevev, WS ELKOVvOS Ov dati é&is, Themistius ad Aristot.
De Memoria, p. 240, ed. Spengel.
MEMORY.—REMINISCENCE, 647
have no endurance; while endurance is the basis both of phan-
tasy and memory.*
But though some animals have Memory, no animal except
man has Reminiscence. Herein man surpasses themall.f Aris-
totle draws a marked distinction between the two; between the
(memorial) retentive and reviving functions, when working un-
consciously and instinctively, and the same two functions, when
stimulated and guided by a deliberate purpose of our own—which
he calls Reminiscence. This last is like a syllogism or course of
ratiocinative inference, performable only by minds capable of
taking counsel and calculating. He considers Memory as a move-
ment proceeding from the centre and organs of sense to the soul,
and stamping an impression thereupon ; while Reminiscence is a
counter-movement proceeding from the soul to the organs of
sense.{ In the process of Reminiscence, movements of the soul
and movements of the body are conjoined,§ more or less perturb-
ing and durable according to the temperament of the individual.
The process is intentional and deliberate, instigated by the desire
to search for and recover some lost phantasm or cognition; its
success depends upon the fact, that there exists by nature a
regular observable order of sequence among the movements of
the system, physical as well as psychical. The consequents
follow their antecedents either universally, or at least according
to customary rules, in the majority of cases. ||
The consequent is (1) either like its antecedent, wholly or par-
tially ; or (2) contrary to it; or (3) has been actually felt in juxta-
position with it. In reminiscence, we endeavour to regain the
forgotten consequent by hunting out some antecedent whereupon
it is likely to follow; taking our start either from the present
* Aristot. Analyt. Poster. II. 99, b. 36. wovn 70d aicOnpatos,
It may be remarked that in the Topica, Aristotle urges a dialectic objection
against this or a similar doctrine—Topic., IV. 4, 125, b. 6-18—and against
his own definition cited in the preceding note, where he calls wyyuy an €£ts.
Compare the first Chapter of the Metaphysica.
t+ Aristot. De Memor. et Rem. c. 2, 453, a. 8. He draws the same
distinction in Hist. Animal., I. 1, 488, b. 26.
+ Aristot. De Anima, I. 4, 408, b. 19; De Memor. et Remin., c. 1, 450,
a. 80, 453, a. 9-14, 70 dvapimvynoxesOai Eotv oiov cuhdoytomes TIS.
§ Aristot. De Memor. et Rem., c. 2, 453, a. 14-23.
i| Aristot. De Memor. et Rem., c. 2, 451, b. 10-17. oupBatvovat & ui
dvauynoes, ered) mépunev 7» Kivynots noe yevecOat meta THVEE,
648 PSYCHOLOGY OF ARISTOTLE.
moment or from some other known point.* We run over many
phantasms until we hit upon the true antecedent; the possibility
of reminiscence depends upon our having this within our mental
reach, among our accessible stock of ideas; if such be not the
case, reminiscence is impracticable, and we must learn over again.t
We are most likely to succeed, if we get upon the track or order
wherein events actually occurred ; thus, if we are trying to re-
collect a forgotten verse or sentence, we begin to repeat it from
the first word ; the same antecedent may indeed call up different
consequents at different times, but it will generally call up what
has habitually followed it before.t
The movements of Memory and of Reminiscence are partly
corporeal and partly psychical, just as those of Sensation and
Phantasy are. We compare in our remembrance greater and less,
(either in time or in external magnitudes) through similar in-
ternal movements differing from each other in the same propor-
tion, but all on a miniature scale.§ These internal movements
often lead to great discomfort, when a person makes fruit-
less efforts to recover the forgotten phantasm that he desires ;
especially with excitable men, who are much disturbed by their
own phantasms. They cannot stop the movement once begun ;
and when their sensitive system is soft and flexible, they find
that they have unwittingly provoked the bodily movements be-
longing to anger or fear, or some other painful emotion.|| These
movements, when once provoked, continue in spite of the oppo-
sition of the person that experiences them. He brings upon him-
* Aristot. De Memor. et Rem., c. 2,451, b.18. 620 Kat TO épeens Onpev-
omev voycavres do 700 vov i) dNXov TiVos, Kai AP opotov 7} évavtiov 3)
TOO aUVEYYVS.
About the associative property of contraries, see again De Somno et
Vigil., c. 1, 453, b. 27.
+ Aristot. De Memor. et Rem.,c. 2, 452, a. 5-12. wodAakis dé HOn bev
advvatet avaurvnoOivat, Cyteiv 6€ Svvatar Kat evpioxer, TodTO OE
yivetat KivodrTe Toda, Ews av ToLavtTny KwvnOn Kivyow, 7 akodovOncEL
70 Tpaywa, TO yap pemvpoOal eott TO évetvar dvvamer THY Kivodcay:
tovT0 6€, WaT EF adTov Kal WY exXEt KIVHGEWY KIVYORVAl, WoreEp EipHtat.
t+ Aristot. De Memor. et Rem., c. 2, 452, a. 2-25.
§ Aristot. De Memor. et Rem., 452, b. 12. ote yap év abzy ta dmora
oXHMaTA Kal KWhoEs—raVvTa yap Ta évTos EdTTW, WorEp aVaoyoV Kat
an ahs
TA EKTOS.
|| Aristot. De Memor. et Rem., 453, a. 22. 0 dvapipvynoxopmevos, Kae
Onpedwv owpatiKoy Tb KiVel, ev W 70 Wa0os.
THE NOUS. 649
self the reality of the painful emotion ; just as we find that after
we have very frequently pronounced a sentence or sung a song,
the internal movements left in our memories are sometimes so
strong and so persistent, that they act on our vocal organs even
without any volition on our parts, and determine us to sing the
song or pronounce the sentence over again in reality.* Slow men
are usually good in Memory, quick men and apt learners are good
in Reminiscence: the two are seldom found together.t
In this account of Memory and Reminiscence, Aristotle
displays an acute and penetrating intelligence of the great prin-
ciples of the association of ideas. But these principles are opera-
tive not less in Memory than in Reminiscence; and the exaggerated
prominence that he has given to the distinction between the
two (determined apparently by a wish to keep the procedure of
man apart from that of animals) tends to perplex his description
of the associative process. At the same time, his manner of
characterizing phantasy, memory, and reminiscence, as being all
of them at once corporeal and psychical—involving, like sensa-
tion, internal movements of the body as well as phases of the
consclousness—sometimes even passing into external movements
of the bodily organs without our volition ; ali this is a striking
example of psychological observation, as well as of consistency
in following out the doctrine laid down at the commencement of
the Aristotelian treatise:—Soul as the Form, implicated with
Body as the Matter, and the two being an integral concrete
separable only by abstraction.
We come now to the highest and (in Aristotle’s opinion)
most honourable portion of the Soul,—the Nous or noétic
faculty, whereby we cogitate, understand, reason, and believe or
opine under the influence of reason.t According to the uniform
* Aristot. De Memor. et Rem., 453, a. 23-30. éorce to waQos tots
dvopast Kat pédeot Kai oyols, Otay bid oTOMaTOS TL YEvyTae duTwY
apodpa: wavoapevors yap Kai od Bovropévors erepxetar Tahu adew 4)
Aéyeww.
+ Aristot. De Memor. et Rem., 449, a. 7.
t Aristot. De Anima, III. 4, 429, a. 10. Tlepi 6€ tod popiov rod THs
Woyxis © ywwworer te ux Kat Gpovet, He himself defines what he
means by vods a few lines lower—429, a. 30—and he is careful to specify it
as 6 THs WuyXis vods—o dpa kaovpevos tis Wuxijs vods (Adyw 6€ vody,
w dvavoeitas kat trohapBaver y Yvx7y).
In the preceding chapter, he expressly discriminates vonows from
650 PSYCHOLOGY OF ARISTOTLE.
scheme of Aristotle, this highest portion of the soul, though
distinct from all the lower, presupposes them all. As the sentient
Soul presupposes the nutrient, so also the cogitant Soul pre-
supposes the nutrient, the sentient, the phantastic, the memorial,
and the reminiscent. Aristotle carefully distinguishes the sentient
department of the Soul from the cogitant, and refutes more than
once the doctrine of those philosophers that identified the two.
But he is equally careful to maintain the correlation between
them, and to exhibit the sentient faculty not only as involving in
itself a certain measure of intellectual discrimination, but also as
an essential and fundamental condition to the agency of the
Cogitant, as a portion of the human Soul. We have already
gone through the three successive stages—phantastic, memorial,
reminiscent—whereby the interval between sensation and cogita-
tion is bridged over. Hach of the three is directly dependent on
past sensation, either as reproduction or as corollary ; each of
them is an indispensable condition of man’s cogitation ; moreover,
in the highest of the three, we have actually slid unperceived
into the Cogitant phase of the human soul—for Aristotle declares
the reminiscent process to be of the nature of a syllogism.*
That the Soul cannot eogitate or reason without phantasms—
that phantasms are required for the actual working of the human
Nous—he affirms in the most explicit manner.t
The doctrine of Aristotle respecting Nous has been a puzzle,
even from the time of his first commentators. Partly from the
obscurity inherent in the subject, partly from the defective
condition of his text as it now stands, his meaning cannot be
always clearly comprehended, nor does it seem that the different
passages can be completely reconciled.
Anaxagoras, Demokritus, and other philosophers, appear to
have spoken of Nous or Intellect in a large and vague sense, as
equivalent to Soul generally. Plato seems to have been the first
to narrow and specialize the meaning; distinguishing pointedly
vrodn Wes. This last word tzodnYis is the most general term for believing
or opining, upon reasons good or bad; the varieties under it are émiotny,
d0Ea, Ppovynois Kat tavavta ToVTWY.—427, b. 17-25.
* Aristot. De Memor. et Rem., 453, a. 10.
+ Aristot. De Memor. et Rem., 449, b. 31, 450, a. 12. voety ov« eotww
dvev pavtacpatos—-7 6€ pv ywn Kai 7 TWY VonTHY OVK dvEVv PavTdcpaTos
€ottv.—De Anima, III. 7, 431, a. 16.
THE NOUS NOT DEPENDING ON BODILY ORGANS. 651
(as we have stated above) the rational or encephalic soul, in the
cranium, with its circular rotations, from the two lower souls,
thoracic and abdominal. Aristotle agreed with him in this
distinction (either of separate souls or of separate functions in
the same soul); but he attenuated and divested it of all con-
nexion with separate corporeal lodgment, or with peculiar
movements of any kind. In his psychology, the brain no longer
appears as the seat of intelligence, but simply as a cold, moist,
and senseless organ, destined to countervail the excessive heat of
the heart ; which last is the great centre of animal heat, of life,
and of the sentient soul. Aristotle declares Nous not to be
connected with, or dependent on, any given bodily organs or
movements appropriated to itself; this is one main circumstance
distinguishing it from the nutrient Soul as well as from the
sentient Soul, each of which rests indispensably upon corporeal
organs and agencies of its own.
It will be remembered that we stated the relation of Soul to
Body (in Aristotle’s view) as that of Form to Matter; the two
together constituting a concrete individual, numerically One ;
also that Form and Matter, each being essentially relative to the
other, admitted of gradations, higher and lower; e.g. a massive
cube of marble is already Materia Formata, but it is still purely
Materia, relative to the statue that may be obtained from it.
Now, the grand region of Form is the CELESTIAL BopY—the vast,
deep, perceivable, circular mass circumscribing the Kosmos, and
enclosing, in and around its centre, Harth with the other three
elements, tenanted by substances generated and perishable. This
Celestial Body is the abode of divinity, including many divine
Beings who take part in its eternal rotations—viz., the Sun,
Moon, Stars, &c.,—and other Gods. Now, every Soul, or every
Form that animates the Matter of a living being, derives its
vitalizing influence from this celestial region. All seeds of life
include within them a spiritual or gaseous heat, more divine than
the four elements, proceeding from the Sun, and in nature akin to
the element of the stars. Such solar or celestial heat differs generi-
cally from the heat of fire. It is the only source from whence
the principle of life, with the animal heat that accompanies it,
can be obtained. Soul, in all its varieties, proceeds from hence.*
: é ' ‘ = ps
* Aristot. De Generat. Animal., II. 3, 736, b. 29. maons wev ovy Yruyxis
Svvamis ETEpov owuaTos Coke KeKOWWWYYKEVaL Kal OeLoTépov THY KadoU=
652 PSYCHOLOGY OF ARISTOTLE.
But though all varieties of Soul emanate from the same
celestial source, they possess the divine element in very different
degrees, and are very unequal in comparative worth and dignity.
The lowest variety, or nutritive Soul—the only one possessed by
plants, among which there is no separation of sex (in Aristotle’s
view*)-—is contained potentially in the seed, and is thus trans-
mitted when that seed is matured into a new individual. In
animals, who possess it along with the sensitive soul and among
whom the sexes are separated, it is also contained potentially
in the generative system of the female separately ; and the first
commencement of life in the future animal is thus a purely
vegetable life+ The sensitive soul, the characteristic. of the
complete animal, cannot be superadded except by copulation and
the male semen. The female being comparatively impotent and
having less animal heat, furnishes only the Matter of the future
offspring ; Form, or the moving, fecundating, cause, is supplied
by the male. Through the two together, the new individual
animal is completed, having not merely the nutritive Soul, but
also the sentient Soul along with it.
Both the nutritive and the sentient Soul have, each of them
respectively, a special bodily agency and movement belonging to
them. But the Nous, or the Noétic Soul, has no partnership
with any similar bodily agency. There is no special corporeal
potentiality (to speak in Aristotelian language) which it is des-
tined to actualize. It enters from without, and emanates from a
still more exalted influence of that divine celestial substance
from which all psychical or vitalizing heat proceeds.§ It is
fev oToIXclwy * we dé Srahépovat TMOTTE ai Yuxai kat ariypig
adi wv, ovTW Kat y TowduTy) Suapeper procs avr wy pev yap év Tw
oTépmate EvUTapXEl, OTEP TOLEL YOvima Eival Ta OTepmaTa, TO cadovpevov
Ocppov.
* Aristot. De Generat. Animal., I. 23, 731, a. 27.
+ Aristot. De Generat. Animal., II. 3, 736, a. 22, b. 4-12.
+ Aristot. De Generat. Animal., I. 2, 716, a. 5-17, 726, b. 33, 728, a. 17,
729, b. 6-27.
§ Aristot. De Generat. Animal., IT. 3, 736, b. 28. Nedwetar dé Tov voor
povov Ovpadev éerotévar, kai Octov eivat fovov: odOev Yap avtoo 7H
Evepyeca Kowwvel owpatixn évépyera, The words Oetoy eivar wovor
must not be construed strictly ; for in the next following passage, he proceeds
to declare that al/ Wux7- Wuxi duvapus or dpx7 partakes of the divine
element, and that in this respect there is only a difference of degree between
one Y-vx7 and another.
THE NOUS DERIVED FROM THE CELESTIAL BODY. 653
superinduced upon the nutritive and sentient Souls, and intro-
duces itself at an age of the individual later than both of them.
Having no part of the bodily organism specially appropriated to
it, this variety of Soul—what is called the Nous—stands distin-
guished from the other two in being perfectly separable from the
body ;* that is, separable from the organized body which it is
the essential function of the two lower souls to actualize, and
with which both of them are bound up. The Nous is not separ-
able from body altogether ; it belongs essentially to the divine
celestial body, and to those luminaries and other divine Beings
by whom portions of it are tenanted. Theorizing contemplation
—the perfect, unclouded, unembarrassed, exercise of the theo-
retical Nous—is the single mental activity of these divinities ;
contemplation of the formal regularity of the Kosmos, with its
eternal and faultless rotations, and with their own perfection as
participating therein. The celestial body is the body whereto
Nous, or the noétic Soul, properly belongs ;+ quite apart from
the two other Souls, sentient and nutritive, upon which it is
grafted in the animal body; and apart also from all the ne-
cessities of human action, preceded by balanced motives and
deliberate choice.t
From this celestial body, a certain influence of Nous is trans-
ferred to some of the mortal inhabitants of earth, water, and air.
Thus a third or noétic Soul—or rather a third noétic function—
is added to the two existing functions, sensitive and nutrient, of
the animal Soul, which acquires thereby an improved aptitude
for, and correlation with, the Formal and Universal. We have
already stated that the sensitive Soul possesses this aptitude to a
certain extent; it receives the impression of sensible Forms,
without being impressed by the Matter accompanying them. The
noétic function strengthens and sharpens the aptitude ; the Soul
comes into correlation with those cogitable or intellective Forms
* Aristot. De Generat. Animal., II. 3, 737, a. 10. 0 caXovpevos vous,
—De Anim, II. 2, 413, b. 25; ID. 3, 415, a. 11.
+ Respecting 70 dvw oa, see the copious citations in Trendelenburg’s
note ad Aristot. De Anima, II., 7, 2, p. 373.
t Aristot. Ethic. Nikom., X. 8, 1178, b.20. uy &7) Ciivt, TOU mparrew
ipnpnnéve, étt O€ paddov Tod orev, Td Netwrerat awn Oewptas ; WOTE
7 T00 Ocod évepyera, paxapiotyte Seahépovea, Oewpntixn dv ein.—
See also Metaphysic A. 5, 1074, b. 26-35.
654 PSYCHOLOGY OF ARISTOTLE.
which are involved in the sensible Forms;* it rises from the
lower generalities of the Second Philosophy, to the higher gene-
ralities of the First Philosophy.
As the sentient or percipient Soul is the Form or Correlate of
all perceivables, and thus identified with them in nature, all of
them having existence only in relation to it—so the cogitant or
intellective Soul is the Form or Correlate of all Cogitabilia, all of
which exist relatively to it, and only relatively.t It is in fact
the highest of all Forms—the Form of Forms; the mental or
subjective aspect of all formal reality.
Such at least is the tendency and purpose of that noétic
influence which the celestial substance imparts to the human
Soul; but it is realized only to a very small degree. In its
characteristic theorizing efficacy, the godlike Nous counts for a
small fraction of the whole soul, though superexcellent in
quality.t There are but few men in whom it is tolerably
developed, and even in those few, it is countervailed by many
other agencies.§ The noétic function in men and animals exists
only in companionship with the two other psychical functions.
It is subservient to the limits and conditions that they impose,
as well as to the necessities of individual and social action;
to all that is required for “acting like a man,” according to
the Aristotelian phrase. Man’s nature is complex, and not
self-suffiicing for a life of theorizing contemplation, such as
that wherein the celestial inmates pass their immortality of
happiness. ||
We have thus to study the noétic function, according to the
manifestations of it that we find in man, and to’a certain extent
in some other privileged animals. Bees, for example, partake in
* Aristot. De Anima, III. 8, 432, a. 6. év tots efdeot tots ataOntots
Ta VOHTa Eat.
+ Aristot. De Anim4, ITT. 8, 431, a. 22, 432, b. 10. 0 vovs etdos eldwy
Kat 7 alcOnots etdos atcOyTav.
+ Aristot. Ethic. Nikom., X. 7, 1178, a. 1. ¢ yap Kal TH dyKw puxpov
Earl, Ouvapmer Kal TiMLOTATL TOND faddov TavTwY VTEpexel.
§ Aristot. De Memor. et Remin., c. 1, 450, a. 18.
|| Aristot. Ethic. Nikom., X. 7-8-9, 1177, b. 24, 1178, a. 22, b. 6-34.
Senoetat ody To1ovTwy mpos TO dvOpwrévecOat—ov« adtapkyns 7 Prats
mpos TO Oewpetv—o 5é TovodtTos dv ein Bios Kpéectwy } Kat’ dvOpwror.
Compare similar sentiments in Aristot. Metaphys., A. 983, a, 1.
THE NOUS DEPENDS ON SENSIBLE IMAGES, 655
the divine gift to a certain extent; being distinguished in this
respect from their analoga—wasps and hornets.*
In these and other animals, and in man to a still greater
degree, the theorizing activity exists; but it is either starved,
or at least has to deal with materials obscure, puzzling, conflict-
ing; while, on the other hand, the practical intellect becomes
largely developed, through the pressure of wants and desires,
combined with the teaching of experience. In Aristotle’s
view, sensible perception is a separate source of knowledge,
accompanied with judgment and discrimination, independent
of the noétic function. Occasionally, he refers the intellectual
superiority of man to the properly attempered combination
and antagonism of heat in the heart with cold in the brain,
each strong and pure;f all the highly endowed animals (he
says) have greater animal heat, which is the essential con-
dition of a better soul;t he reckons the finer sense of touch
possessed by man as an essential condition of the same intel-
* Aristot. De Generat. Animal., III. 760, a. 5, 761, a. 5. ovtos 6€
TEplLTTOO TOV Yyévous Kai Liou TOD THY pwEALTT@Y—oOv yap EXoVaLY
(wasps and hornets) ovdév Oetov, warep to yevos THY pediTTHv. It is
remarkable that zepittos, the epithet here applied by Aristotle to bees, is the
epithet that he also applies to men of theoretical and speculative activity,
as contrasted with men prudent and judicious in action.—See Metaphys., I.
983, a. 2, also, Ethic. Nikom., VI. 7, 1141, b. 6. Elsewhere he calls bees
Ppoviua—Metaphys., I. 1, 980, b. 22. See a good note of Torstrick on
Aristot. De Anima, III. 428, a. 10, p. 172 of his Commentary. Aristotle
may possibly have been one among the philosophers that Virgil had in his
mind, Georgics, IV. 220,
** His quidam signis, atque hzc exempla secuti
Esse apibus partem divine mentis, et haustus
ZEtherios dixere: Deum namque ire per omnes
Terrasque tractusque maris, celumque profundum,” &e.
+ Aristot. De Generat. Animal., II. 6, 744, a. 11-30. 690? 6€ rv
eUkpaciay 9 Sidvoias poviuwratov yap éott THY Cuwv dvOpwros.
We may remark that Aristotle considers cold as, in some cases, a positive
property; not simply as the absence or privation of heat (De Partibus
Animal., II. 649, a. 18). The heart is the part wherein the psychical fire
(as it were) is kept burning—7fjs Wuyxijs worep Eurerupevpévys ev TovTors
tots torroits—Aristot. De Vita et Morte, c. 4, 469, b. 16. Virgil, in the
beautiful lines of his second Georgic (483), laments that he is disqualified for
deep philosophical studies by the want of heat round his heart.
** Sin, has ne possim nature accedere partes,
Frigidus obstiterit circum preecordia sanguis,” &c,
~ Aristot. De Respirat., c. 13, 477, a. 16.
656 PSYCHOLOGY OF ARISTOTLE.
lectual result.* Sensible perception in its five diverse mani-
festations, together with its secondary psychical effects—phan-
tasy and memory, accumulate in the human mind (and in some
animals) a greater or less experience of particular facts; from
some of which, inferences are drawn as to others unknown,
directing conduct as well as enlarging knowledge.t
All this process, a perpetual movement of sense and memory,
begins from infancy, and goes on independently of Nous or the
noétic function properly so called ; which grows up gradually at
a later age, aided by the acquisition of language and by instruc-
tion conveyed through language. The supervening Nous presup-
poses and depends upon what has been thus treasured up by
experience. Though, in the celestial body, Nous exists separately
from human beings, and though it there operates proprio motu
apart from sense—such is not the case with the human Nous;
which depends upon the co-operation, and is subject to the
restrictions, of the complicated Soul and Body wherewith it is
domiciled ; restrictions differing in each individual case. Though
the noétic process is distinct from sense, yet without sense it
cannot take place in man. Aristotle expressly says—‘ You
cannot cogitate without a phantasm or without a continuous
image.” Now, the phantasm has been already explained as a
relic of movements of sense,—or as those movements themselves,
looked at in another point of view.f ‘‘ When we cogitate” (he
says) “‘our mental affection is the same as when we draw a
triangle for geometrical study; for there, though we do not
make use of the fact that the triangle is determinate in its mag-
nitude, we still draw it of a determinate magnitude. So in
cogitation, even when we are not cogitating a determinate
quantum, we nevertheless set before our eyes a (determinate)
quantum, but we do not cogitate it qudtenus determinate.’’§
We cannot even remember (he goes on to say) the Cogitabilia
* Aristot. De Anima, II. 9, 421, a. 23.
+ Aristot. Metaphys., A., c. 1.
~¢ Aristot. De Somniis, c. 1, 459, a. 15; De Anima, III. 7, 481, a. 17,
428, b, 12, ;
2 Aristot. De Memor. et Remin., ol, 449,b. 13. ézret 6€ repi Gav-
Tactas eipy tat ev Tots mept Yuxiis, Kat voety ovK €oTL avev pavtdopatos:
suuPaiver yap 70 avdto ma0os év 7TH voety omep kat év TH Srarypagpery °
EKEL TE yap ovOev Tpooxpwpevor TH TO moaov ws plo Mev ov elvat TOU
Tpirywvov, Ouws ypapouey wpicpevoy Kata TO wogov: Kal O vowY
DISTINCTION OF PHANTASY AND COGITATION. 657
without “a phantasm or sensible image ; so that our memory of
them is only by way of concomitance” (indirect and secondary).*
Phantasy is thus absolutely indispensable to cogitation: first
to carrying on the process at all; next to remembering it
after it is past. Without either the visible phantasm of
objects seen and touched, or the audible phantasm of words
heard and remembered, the Nous in human beings would be a
nullity.t
We see that though Aristotle recognizes a general distinction
between phantasy and cogitation, and alludes to many animals as
having the former without attaining to the latter, yet he also
declares that in man, who possesses both, not only is cogitation
dependent upon phantasy, but phantasy passes into cogitation by
gradations almost imperceptible. In regard to the practical appli-
cation of Nous (2.e., to animal movements determined either by
appetite or by reason), he finds a great difficulty in keeping up
the distinction clearly marked. Substantially indeed he lets it
drop. When he speaks of phantasy as being either calculating
or perceptive, we are unable to see in what respect calculating
phantasy (which he states not to belong to other animals) differs
from an effort of cogitation.t Indeed, he speaks with some
diffidence respecting any distribution of parts in the same Soul;
woatTws, Kav fu Tocov voy, THWeTar TPO ompaTwy TosoV, voet & ovx
9 Toov. :
See De Sensu et Sensili, c. 6, 445, b. 17; De Anima, III. 8, 432, a. 9.
The above passage, extracted from the treatise De Memoria et Rem., appears
to be as clear a statement of the main doctrine of Nominalism as can be found
in Hobbes or Berkeley. In the sixteenth section of the Introduction to the
Principles of Human Knowledge, Berkeley says—“ And here it must be
acknowledged that a man may consider a figure merely as triangular, without
attending to the particular qualities of the angles or relations of the sides.
In like manner we may consider Peter so far forth as man, or so far forth as
animal, without framing the forementioned idea, either of man or animal,
inasmuch as all that is perceived is not considered.””—Berkeley has not improved
upon the statement of Aristotle.
* Aristot. De Memor. et Remin., c. 1, 450, a. 13.
+ About sense and hearing, as the fundamenta of intellect, see Aristot.
de Sensu et Sensili, c. 1, 487, a. 1-17.
t Aristot. De Anima, III. 10, 433, a. 10, b. 12-29. et’ tus tv Gavta-
ciay T0etn ws vonaiy twa—avtaaia b€ raca 7} NoyLoTLKy 7) aicOnTteK? °
TavTNs MeV OUY Kai TA GANA CHa peTéxer.—Also, III. 7, 431, b. 7.
42
658 PSYCHOLOGY OF ARISTOTLE.
suspecting that such distribution is not real but logical; you may
subdivide as much as you choose.*
It appears thus clear that Aristotle restricts the Nous or noétic
function in man to the matters of sense and experience, physical or
mental, and that he considers the phantasm to be an essential
accompaniment of the cogitative act. Yet this does not at all
detract from his view of the grandeur, importance, and wide range
of survey, belonging to the noétic function. It is the portion of
man’s nature that correlates with the abstract and universal; but
it is only a portion of his nature, and must work in conjunction
and harmony with the rest. The abstract cannot be really
separated from the concrete, nor the universal from one or other
of its particulars, nor the essence from that whereof it is the
essence, nor the attribute from that of which it is the attribute,
nor the genus and species from the individuals comprehended
therein; nor, to speak in purely Aristotelian language, the Form
from some Matter, or the Matter from some Form. In all these
cases, there is a “otional or logical distinction, impressing the
mind as the result of various comparisons, noted by an appro-
priate term, and remembered afterwards by means of that term
(that is, by means of an audible or visible phantasm) ; but real
separation there neither is nor can be. This is the cardinal
principle of Aristotle, repeated in almost all his works; his
marked antithesis against Plato. Such logical distinctions as
those here noticed (they might be multiplied without number) it
belongs to Nous or the noétic function to cognize. But the real
objects, in reference to which alone the distinctions have a
meaning, are concrete and individual; and the cognizing Subject
is really the entire man, employing indeed the noétic function,
but employing it with the aid of other mental forces, phantasms
and remembrances, real and verbal.
The noétic Soul is called by Aristotle ‘the place of Forms,
the potentiality of Forms; the Correlate of things apart from
Matter.’ + It cogitates these Forms in or along with the phan-
tasms ; the cogitable Forms are contained i the sensible Forms ;
for there is nothing really existent beyond or apart from visible
or tangible magnitudes, with their properties and affections,
* Aristot. De Anima, IIT. 9, 432, a. 23.
+ Aristot, De Anima, III. 4, 429, a. 27, b. 22.
THE NOUS HAS NO BODILY ORGAN. 659
and with the so-called abstractions considered by the geom-
eter. Hence, without sensible perception, a man can neither
learn nor understand any thing; in all his theoretical contem-
plations, he requires some phantasm to contemplate along with
them.*
Herein lies one of the main distinctions between the noétic
and the sentient souls. The sentient deals with particulars, and
correlates with external bodies; the noétic apprehends universals,
which in a certain sense are within the soul: hence a man can
cogitate whenever or whatever he chooses, but he can see or touch
only what is present. Another distinction is, that the sentient
soul is embodied in special organs, each with determinate capa-
cities, and correlating with external objects, themselves alike
determinate, acting only under certain conditions of locality. The
possibilities of sensation are thus from the beginning limited ;
moreover, a certain relative proportion must be maintained be-
tween the Percipient and the Perceivable ; for extreme or violent
sounds, colours, &c., produce no sensation ; on the contrary, they
deaden the sentient organ.{ But the noétic soul (what is called
the Nous of the Soul, to use Aristotle’s language) § is nothing at
all in actuality before its noétic function commences, though it is
everything in potentiality. It is not embodied in any corporeal
organ of its own, nor mingled as a new elementary ingredient
with the body ; it does not correlate with any external objects ;
it is not so specially attached to some particulars as to make it
antipathetic to others. Accordingly its possibilities of cogitation
are unlimited; it apprehends with equal facility what is most
cogitable and what is least cogitable. It is thoroughly indeter-
minate in its nature, and is in fact at first a mere unlimited
. ° ” a
* Aristot. De Anima, III. 7, 481, b. 1. 7a wév ovv edn 70 vontiKoy
> 4 7 nm . A \ ’ S| ~ b) a >
év tots Pavtacpact voet.—432, a. 3. eet Ce OVE Tpayya ovlEV éeoTs
Tapa Ta pmeyeOn, ws doxe?, Ta atoOyTa KEeXwplopévov, év Tors Eideat TOFS
aicOntois Ta vonTa eat, Ta Te EV aPatpecer heyoueva, Kal doa TRY
a & n ’ 4
aicOntmv eFes Kat 7aOn* Kai dia TodTO ovTE pw alaPavomevos pydEev
° A aA U 9o\ / e/ \ a“ > / LA U U
ovOev dv paOot ode Evvein: otav dé Oewph, avayxyn ana havtacpma Te
a ; t
Oewperv.
+ Aristot. De Anim4, IT. 5, 417, b. 22.
+ Aristot. De Anima, III. 4, 429, a. 29.
é F ’ a »
§ Aristot. De Anima, IIT. 4, 429, a. 22. 0 dpa xadovpmevos tis Woyfs
a na * las ‘ ' e ’
vods (Neyw de vodv w Evavoeitac kal VrodauBave y Yrvxy) odOdv eat
> ‘ lal
évepyela mpty voetv,
660 PSYCHOLOGY OF ARISTOTLE.
cogitative potentiality ;* like a tablet, upon which no letters
have as yet been written, but upon which all or any letters may
be written.+
We have already said that the Nous of the human soul
emanates from a peculiar influence of the celestial body, which is
the especial region of Form in the Kosmos. Through it we
acquire an enlarged power of apprehending the abstract and
universal ; we can ascend above sensible forms to the cogitable
forms contained therein; we can consider all forms in them-
selves, without paying attention to the matter wherein they are
embodied. Instead of considering the concrete solid or liquid be-
fore us, we can mentally analyze them, and thus study solidity in
the abstract, fluidity in the abstract. While our senses judge of
water as hot and cold, our noétic function enables us to appre-
ciate water in the abstract; to determine its essence, and to
furnish a definition of it.f In all these objects, as combinations
of Form with Matter, the cogitable form exists potentially ; and
is abstracted, or considered abstractedly, by the cogitant Nous.§
Yet this last cannot operate except along with and by aid of
phantasms (as we have already seen)—of impressions revived or
remaining from sense. It is thus immersed in the materials of
sense, and has no others. But it handles them in a way of its
own, and under new points of view; comparing and analyzing ;
recognizing the abstract in the concrete, and the universal in the
particular; discriminating mentally and logically the one from
the other; and noting the distinction by appropriate terms.
Such distinctions are the Noumena, generated in the process of
cogitation by Nous itself. The Nous, as it exists in any indi-
vidual, gradually loses its original character of naked potentiality,
and becomes an actual working force, by means of its own
acquired materials.|| Itis an aggregate of Noumena, all of them in
nature identical with itself; and while cogitating them, the Nous
at the same time cogitates itself. Considered abstractedly, apart
* Aristot. De Animé, III. 4, 429, a. 21. wore und adtod elvar drow
pndemiay AN’ i) tavd7yv, oT Svvatov.
+ Aristot. De Anima, IIT. 4, 430, a. 1.
£ Aristot. De Anima, III, 4, 429, b. 10.
§ Aristot. De Anima, ITI. 4, 430, a. 2-12.
|| Aristot. De Anima, II. 5, 417, b. 23; III. 4, 429, b. 7. dvav dvvytat
évepyety OC avtod,
INTELLECTUS AGENS AND INTELLECTUS PATIENS. 661
from matter, they exist only in the mind itself; in theoretical
speculation, the Cognoscens and the Cognitum are identical.
But they are not really separable from matter, and have no
reality apart from it.*
The distinction, yet at the same time correlation, between
Form and Matter, pervades all nature (Aristotle affirms), and
will be found in the Nous as elsewhere. We must recog-
nize an Intellectus Agens or constructive—and an Intellectus
Patiens or receptive.t The Agens is the great intellectual
energy pervading the celestial body, and acting upon all the
animals susceptible of its operation; analogous to light, which
illuminates the diaphanous medium, and elevates what was
mere potential colour into colour actual and visible.{ The
Patiens is the intellectual receptivity acted upon in each in-
dividual, and capable of being made to cogitate every thing ;
anterior to the Agens, in time, so far as regards the individual
—yet as a general fact (when we are talking of man as a
Species), not anterior even in time, but correlative. Of the
two, the Intellectus Agens is the more venerable ; it is pure
intellectual energy, unmixed, unimpressible from without, and
separable from all animal body. It is this, and nothing more,
when considered apart from animal body; but it is then
eternal and immortal, while the Intellectus Patiens perishes
with the remaining soul and with the body. Yet though the
Intellectus Agens is thus eternal, and though we have part in
it, we cannot remember any of its operations anterior to our own
maturity ; for the concurrence of the Intellectus Patiens, which
* Aristot, De Anima, IIL. 4, 429, b. 9, 430, a. 2-7.
+ Aristot. De Anima, III. 5, 430, a. 11.
t Aristot. De Anima, ITI. 5, 430, a. 15. Kai éottv 0 wey TOLODTOS VOUS
1 wavta yivecOa, o dé TH TavTa Tolety, ws E£is Tis, olov 70 Dis:
TpoToyv yap Tia Kat TO Pws Tolel Ta Ovvdper OvTA XpwuaTa évepyeca
xpwuata. Aristotle here illustrates vods wountixos by Pws and és; and
we know what view he takes of dws (De Anima, II. 7, 418, b. 9), as the
€vépyera or e£ts tod Scabavovs—which diaphanous he explains to be a
vows tus EvuTdpxovaea ev dépt kat VdaTt Kai ev TH Aidiw TH dvw owpate.
Judging by this illustration, it seems proper to couple the vods qorntiKos
here with his declaration in De Generat. Animal., II. 736, b. 28, 737, a. 10.
Tov vodv povov Ovpaber érreiatevas Kai Octov etvat povov: he cannot con-
sider the vods zoutixos which is of the nature of Form, as belonging to
each individual man, like the vods wuOntixes.
662 PSYCHOLOGY OF ARISTOTLE.
begins and ends with us, is indispensable both to remembrance
and to thought.*
We see here the full extent of Aristotle’s difference from the
Platonic doctrine, in respect to the immortality of the Soul. He
had defined the Soul as the first actualization of a body having
potentiality of life with a determinate organism. This of course
implied, and he expressly declares it, that Soul and Body in each
individual case were one and indivisible, so that the soul of
Sokrates perished of necessity with the body of Sokrates.+ But
he accompanied that declaration with a reserve in favour of
Nous, and especially of the theorizing Nous; which he recognized
as a different sort of Soul, not dependent on a determinate bodily
organism, but capable of being separated from it, as the eternal
is from the perishable.{ The present chapter informs us how far
such reserve is intended to go. ‘That the theorizing Nous is not
limited, like the sentient soul, to a determinate bodily organism,
but exists apart from that organism and eternally—is maintained
as incontestable ; it is the characteristic intellectual activity of
the eternal celestial body and the divine inmates thereof. But
the distinction of Form and Matter is here pointed out, as pre-
vailing in Nous and in Soul generally, not less than throughout
all other Nature. The theorizing Nous, as it exists in Sokrates,
Plato, Demokritus, Anaxagoras, Empedokles, Xenokrates, &c., is
individualized in each, and individualized differently in each. It
represents the result of the Intellectus Agens or formal Nous,
universal and permanent, upon the Intellectus Patiens or noétic
receptivity peculiar to each individual; the co-operation of the
two is indispensable, to sustain the theorizing Intellect of any in-
* Aristot. De Anim, III. 5, 430, a. 18. Kat ob708 O vous (t.é. rrownre-
kos) XwptoTos Kat arabs kat auyns, 7H ovatg wv évepyyeta * dei yap
THU WTEPOY 70 Tolovv Tov magXOV708, kab Y 4px) THs vVANS—Aa. 22.
Xwpiabers 0 éott povoy TOvO” omep carl, Kal TOOTO prover aOavatov Kat
aidtov: ob pvr povevopev dé, O71 TodT0 pev azruGes, 6 6€ TaOnTiKOS VODs
POaptos, kai dvev TovTov ovOcv voet, In this obscure and difficult chapter
(difficult even to Theophrastus the friend and pupil of the author), we have
given the best meaning that the words seem to admit.
+ Aristot. De Anima, II. 1, 413, a. 3, b. 7.
~ Aristot. De Anima, IT. 2, 418, b. 25. mept dé Tod vod kal THs
Gewpy rs éuvapews ovdev rw Euibepei aN’ €otxe Wuxi}s yevos eve pov
etval, Kal TodTO povoy évdexetae ywpiCecOa, Womep TO aidiov Tod
POaptov.
NOUS IS IMMORTAL, BUT NOT AS AN INDIVIDUAL. 663
dividual man. But the Intellectus Patiens, or Receptivus,
perishes along with the individual. Accordingly, the intellectual
life of Sokrates cannot be continued farther. It cannot be pro-
longed after his sensitive and nutritive life has ceased; the
noétic function, as it exists in him, is subject to the same limits of
duration as the other functions of the Soul. The intellectual
man is no more immortal than the sentient man.
Such is the opinion here delivered by Aristotle. And it follows
indeed as a distinct corollary from his doctrine respecting animal
and vegetable procreation in general. Individuality (the being
Unum Numero in a species) and immortality are in his view in-
compatible facts ; the one excludes the other. In assigning (as
he so often does) a final cause or purpose to the wide-spread fact
of procreation of species by animals and vegetables, he tells us,
that every individual living organism, having once attained the
advantage of existence, yearns and aspires to prolong this for
ever, and to become immortal. But this aspiration cannot be
realized ; Nature has forbidden it, or is inadequate to it; no
individual can be immortal. Being precluded from separate
immortality, the individual approaches as near to it as is
possible, by generating a new individual like itself, and thus
perpetuating the species. Such is the explanation given by
Aristotle of the great fact pervading the sublunary, organized
world ;* immortal species of plants, animals, and men—through
a succession of individuals each essentially perishable. The
general doctrine applies to Nous as well as to the other functions
of the Soul. Nous is immortal; but the individual Sokrates,
considered as noétic or intellectual, can no more be immortal
than the same individual considered as sentient or reminiscent.
We have already stated that Nous—lIntellect—the noétic
function—is that faculty of the Soul that correlates with the
abstract and universal; with Form apart from Matter. Its pro-
cess is at once analytical, synthetical, and retentive. Nature
presents to us only concretes and particulars, in a perpetual
course of change and reciprocal action; in these the abstract and
universal are immersed, and out of these they have to be disen-
gaged by logical analysis. That the abstract is a derivative from
* Aristot. De Generat. Animal., IJ. 1, 731, b. 21, seq. ; De Anima, IT.
4, 415, a, 26, seq.; Economica, I. 3, 1343, b. 23.
664 PSYCHOLOGY OF ARISTOTLE.
the concrete, and the universal from particulars—is the doctrine
of Aristotle. Ascending from particulars, the analysis is carried
so far that at length it can go no farther. It continues to divide
until it comes to indivisibles, or simple notions, the highest ab-
stractions, and the largest universals. These are the elements
out of which universal propositions are formed, the first premisses
or principia of demonstration. Unphilosophical minds do not
reach these indivisibles at all: but it is the function of the theoriz-
ing Nous to fasten on them, and combine them into true propo-
sitions. In so far as regards the indivisibles themselves, false-
hood is out of the question, and truth also, since they affirm
nothing. The mind either apprehends them, or it does not
apprehend them; there is no other alternative.* But when com-
bined into affirmative propositions, they then are true or false, as
the case may be. The formal essence of each object is among
these indivisibles, and is apprehended as such by the intellect;
which, while confining itself to such essence, is unerring, as each
sense is in regard to its own appropriate perceivables.+ But when
the intellect goes farther, and proceeds to predicate any attribute
respecting the essence, then it becomes liable to error, as sense
is when drawing inferences.
One of the chief functions that Aristotle assigns to Nous, or
the noétic function, is that the principia of demonstration and
knowledge belong to it; and not merely the principia, but also,
in cases of action preceded by deliberation and balance of motives,
the ultimate application of principia to action. So that he styles
Nous both beginning and end; also the beginning of the begin-
ning; and moreover he declares it to be always right and
unerring—equal to Science and even more than Science.{ These
are high praises, conveying little information, and not reconcil-
able with other passages wherein he speaks of the ewercise of
the noétic function (te voe?vy) as sometimes right, sometimes
* Aristot. De Anima, III. 6, 430, a. 26. pev ovy TOY dduaipetwr
vonots év TovToLs Tept & ovK eaTt 70 Yredoos Ae ots 6€ Kal TO Yrevéos
kat 70 ddyOEs, odvOeals Ts 760 vonpaTwy Womep EV OvTWY, —Motaphysica,
9. 10, 1051, b. 81. wept tadza ovK ot dratynOfvat, ANN 4 voety }) fi}.
tT Arte De Anima, IIT. 6, 430, b. 29. This portion of the treatise is
Peony confused and difficult to understand.
¢ Aristot. Ethic. Nikomach., VI. 12, 1143, a. 23, b. 10. 60 kat apy)
Kut Hip vovs.—Analyt. Post., II. 18, 100, b. 5,
NOUS AT THE SOURCE OF FIRST PRINCIPLES. 665
wrong.* But for the question of psychology, the point to be
determined is, in what sense he meant that principia belonged to
Nous. He certainly did not mean that the first principles of
reasoning were novelties originated, suggested, or introduced into
the soul by noétic influence. Not only he does not say this, but
he takes pains to impress the exact contrary. In passages cited a
few pages back, he declares that. Nous in entering the Soul
brings nothing whatever with it; that it is an universal poten-
tiality—a capacity in regard te truth, but nothing more ;+ that it
is in fact a capacity not merely for comparing and judging (to
both of which he recognizes even the sentient soul as competent),
but also for: combining many into one, and resolving the
apparent one into several; for abstracting, generalizing, and
selecting among the phantasms present, which of them should
be attended to, and which should be left out of attention.{ Such
is his opinion about the noétic function; and he states explicitly
that the abstract and universal not aris arise from the concrete
and particular, but are inseparable from the same really—
separable only logically.
He describes, at the end of the Analytica Posteriora and
elsewhere, the steps whereby the mind ascends gradually from
sense, memory, and experience, to general prineiples. And he
indicates a curious contrast between these and the noétic func-
tions. Sense, memory, phantasy, reminiscence, are movements
of the body as well as of the soul; our thoughts and feelings
come and go, none of them remaining long. But the noétic
process is the reverse of this; it is an arrest of all this mental
movement, a detention of the fugitive thoughts, a subsidence
from perturbation—so that the attention dwells steadily and for
some time on the same matters.§ Analysis, selection, and con-
* Aristot. De Anima, III. 3, 427, b. 9. aAX’ ovdé 70 voety, év w ote
70 OpO&s* Kai wy OpOBs StavoeicOu & évdexeta Kai Yrevdiis.
+ Aristot. De Anima, I. 2, 403, b. 30—where he censures Demokritus,
ov on Xpirae 7p VW ws congee Tivi rept THY ahyOeiav, adda TadTo
Neyer Wuxny kat voov, Compare De Anima, ITI. 4, 429, a. 21, b. 80.
+ Aristot. De Anima, III. 6, 430, b. 5. 0 dé dy TOLWVY, ord 0 voovs
PTS 5 11, 434, a. 10.
§ Aristot. Physica, VII. 3, 247, b. 9. 7 & é& dpxijs NAVs € ema7n uns
yeveats 00K eats TH Yap Npemhoa Kal oTHvat THY diavoiav ériotacOat
cat Qpovetv Neyomev. —Also, De Animé, I. 3, 406, b. 32, and the remark-
able passage in the Analytica Poster., II. 18, 100, a. 3, b. 5.
666 PSYCHOLOGY OF ARISTOTLE.
centration of attention, are the real characteristics of the Aristo-
telian Nous. It is not (as some philosophers have thought) a
source of new general truths, let into the soul by a separate
door, and independent of experience as well as transcending
experience. |
Passing now to the Emotions, we find that these are not
systematically classified and analyzed by Aristotle, as belonging
to a scheme of Psychology; though he treats them incidentally,
with great ability and acuteness, both in his Ethics, where he
regards them as auxiliaries or impediments to a rational plan
of life, and in his Rhetoric, where he touches upon their operation
as it bears on oratorical effect. He introduces however in his
Psychology some answer to the question, What is it that produces
local movement in the animal body? He replies that movement
is produced both by Nous and by Appetite.
Speaking strictly, we ought to call Appetite alone the direct
producing cause, acted upon by the Appetitum, which is here the
Primum Movens Immobile. But this Appetitum cannot act
without coming into the intellectual sphere, as something seen,
imagined, cogitated.* In this case the Nous or Intellect is
stimulated through appetite, and operates in subordination there-
to. Such is the Intellect, considered as practical, the principle
or determining cause of which, is the Appetitum or object of
desire ; the Intellect manifesting itself only for the sake of some
end, to be attained or avoided. Herein it is distinguished alto-
gether from the theoretical Nous or Intellect, which does not
concern itself with any Expetenda or Fugienda, and does not
meddle with conduct. The Appetitum is good, real or apparent,
in so far as it can be achieved by our actions. Often we have
contradictory appetites; and in such cases, the Intellect is
active, generally as a force resisting the present and caring for
the future. But Appetite or Desire, being an energy including
both soul and body, is the real and appropriate cause that
determines us to local movement, often even against strong
opposition from the Intellect.t
Aristotle thus concludes his scheme of Psychology, compre-
* Aristot. De Anima, III. 10, 433, b. 12-17. mapwtov 6é zavTwv 70
OpEKTOV, TOUTO Yap KiVE? OD KLVOUMEVOY TH vonORvat 7 PavtacOfAvat.
+ Aristot. De Anima, IIT. 10, 433, a. 25, b. 19. év tots Kkowvots
owuatos Kai Wuxis épyous, &e.
SUMMARY. 667
hending all plants as well as all animals; a scheme differing in
this respect, as well as in others, from those that had preceded
him, and founded upon the peculiar principles of his own First
Philosophy, Soul is to organized body as Form to Matter, as
Actualizer to the Potential; not similar or homogeneous, but
correlative ; the two are only separable as distinct logical points
of view in regard to one and the same integer or individual.
Aristotle recognizes many different varieties of Soul, or rather
many distinct functions of the same Soul, from the lowest or
most universal, to the highest, or most peculiar and privileged ;
but the higher functions presuppose or depend upon the lower,
as conditions ; while the same principle of Relativity pervades
them all. He brings this principle prominently forward, when
he is summing up~ in the third or last book of the treatise De
Anima, ‘The Soul (he says) is in a certain way all existent
things ; for all of them are either Perceivables or Cogitables ;
and the Cogitant Soul is in a certain way the matters cogitated,
while the Percipient Soul is in a certain way the matters per-
ceived.’ The Percipient and its Percepta—the Cogitant and its
Cogitata—each implies and correlates with the other; the Per-
cipient is the highest Form of all Percepta; the Cogitant is the
Form of Forms, or the highest of all Forms, cogitable or perceiv-
able.t The Percipient or Cogitant Subject is thus conceived only
in relation to the Objects perceived or cogitated, while these
Objects again are presented as essentially correlative to the Sub-
ject. The realities of nature are particulars, exhibiting Forms
and Matter in one; though, for purposes of scientific study—of
assimilation and distinction—it is necessary to consider each of
the two abstractedly from the other.
* Aristot. De Anima, III. 8, 431, b. 20 seq. Ndv dé repi Woyfs ta
, , a / / e x Ay Of ,
exOevta svyxePadawaavtes, etwwpev wahw oT y Yrvyx7 Ta Ovta TwWs
€ott TavTd, 7) yap aicOnTa 7a OvTa 1) voNTa, cote de y EMLOTHUN MEV TH
EmioTyTa Tws, 7 O aicOnars Ta ataOyTa.
+ Aristot. De Anima, III. 8, 432, a. 2. 0 vods eldos etdby, Kai 1
tS 3 ’ A
aiaOnats Etdos alaOntHy,
668 APPENDIX.
A.— Definition and Divisions of Mind.—p. 9.
In defining the department of Feeling, it will be observed that
the negative method has been resorted to; it being implied that
the positive definition is attended with difficulties. Were all
feelings either pleasures or pains, the definition would be easy
enough. But there are feelings indifferent as respects pleasure
and pain,—for example, surprise, which may be pleasurable or
painful, but which often is neither, and is yet clearly a feeling.
When we have occasion to draw a decided contrast between
feeling and intelligence, we may quote pleasure or pain as un-
mistakeable modes or examples of feeling, but we must not be
understood as affirming that there are no neutral or indifferent
states. ;
In the first edition, I used the word ‘ Emotion’ as a synonym
of Feeling, on the ground that our so-called emotions—W onder,
Fear, Anger, Love—are generically identical with our Sensations ;
and that the fact implied by the word ‘emotion,’ namely, a
certain stir of the bodily members, attaches to everything that
could be called a feeling, whether sensation or emotion. I was
anxious to do away with the supposed distinction between states
of feeling accompanied with bodily manifestations, and states not
accompanied with such manifestations, which distinction I believe
to be erroneous. Nevertheless, I am disposed to defer to the
criticism of Mr. Spencer upon this point, and to confine myself
to the word ‘ Feeling,’ as the generic name, of which Sensation
and Emotion are the two species. I have, accordingly, ceased to
employ the word ‘ emotion,’ as the comprehensive name for the
first department of the mind. With respect, however, to the
adjective ‘ emotional,’ used in contrast to the ‘intellectual,’ or
the ‘ volitional,’ I have not observed the same restriction. No
adjective could be formed from the word ‘ feeling,’ and yet it is
often convenient to possess one. Thus, the senses are divisible
into two classes, emotional and intellectual, the first being those
where ‘ feeling’ is the chief HN Re and the second, those
that minister to thought, or intellect. es
I have also departed from the use of the word ‘ Conscious-
ness,’ employed in the first edition, as another synonym for
Feeling. I employed that word for nearly the same reason as
THREE-FOLD DIVISION OF MIND. 669
‘emotion’ was used ; namely, because whenever we are conscious,
I believe that there is a physical accompaniment, essentially of
the same nature, as the accompaniments of any salient emotion,
although perhaps in a lower degiee; and, farther, because con-
sciousness does not necessarily attend intellectual operations.
But I now prefer to give to the word a greater extension than
mind proper, and make use of it to include our object states as
well as our subject states. The object and subject are both parts
of our being, as I conceive, and hence we have a subject-conscious-
ness, which is, in a special sense, mind (the scope of mental
science), and an object-consciousness, in which all other sentient
beings participate, and which gives us the extended and material
universe. Such a mode of employing the term I consider as
highly serviceable in dealing with the great problem of Meta-
physics.
The threefold division of Mind—into Feeling, Intellect, and
Will—seems to have been first explicitly made in Germany, in the
last century, by certain almost forgotten psychologists who
flourished in the interval between Wolf and Kant. In so far as
Kant troubled himself at all about psychology, or required
psychological data, in executing his task of criticising the
foundations of human knowledge, it was to the works of these,
his immediate forerunners, that he had recourse. Thus, he
followed their principle of the threefold division in laying out
the parts of his whole critical undertaking ; the Critique of Pure
Reason corresponding to Intellect or the power of Cognition, the
Oritique of Practical Reason to Will or Action, and the Critique of
the Faculty of Judgment to Feeling of pain and pleasure. But it
was no part of his plan to work out the principle in a psycho-
logical exposition of mind.
As little did it come within Kant’s scheme to give a scientific
definition of mind. Still, if he was no psychologist, he was not,
therefore, prepared to accept the common metaphysical assump-
tion of the mind as a distinct substance, in its nature absolutely
simple and immaterial. According to his criticism, this is a
‘paralogism of the pure reason ’: the real nature of mind—mind
as nowmenon—is altogether unknowable by us, and so too of
matter: the two nowmena, if distinct, may be capable of entering
into transcendental union so as to form the basis of our united
external and internal experience, or there may be but one real
670 APPENDIX.
or noumenal foundation underlying both internal and external
phenomena—for anything we know;; all that lies open to us is
the phenomenal opposition as experienced. This opposition Kant
was generally content to speak of under the phrases ‘ internal ’
and ‘external.’ One class of phenomena we have by ‘ the internal
sense,’ whose ‘form’ is Time; another class by the external
senses, whose form is Space (and Time, indirectly). This would
make External phenomena all come under the Extended; but
Kant did not care to grasp the rest as the Unextended.
Since the time of Kant, amongst German philosophers
Herbart is most worthy of note as regards the question of the
definition and division of Mind. Recurring, after Kant’s
criticism, to a more positive doctrine, he gave a purely meta-
physical definition of the mind or soul, as a simple unextended
entity. This is not very far removed from the soul-monad of
Leibniz, with whom Herbart farther agreed to some extent in his
explanation of the difficulty regarding the connexion with the
body which must attend every metaphysical definition of mind.
Leibniz bridged the gulf between mind and matter by supposing
the body itself, like all matter, to be made up of myriads of
monads, each with a subjective life of its own, only of lower
intensity than belonged to the central soul-monad. MHerbart, for
his part, explaining all union of attributes in things by supposing
things made up of a number of realia each endowed with one
special quality of its own, placed the soul-entity at one point of
the brain, and assumed its relation to be with the metaphysical .
‘reals’ composing the brain-matter. The single quality that, in
conformity with his general doctrine, he ascribed to the soul- »
monad was Vorstellen, or the faculty of mental presentation. This
may be taken to correspond to Intellect or Cognition, and back
to it he traced Feeling and Volition: Feeling being a subjective
experience arising differently as the presentations aid or repress
each other in coming into full consciousness; Volition, an
impulse joined to the presentation of a thing as attainable. It
was in this peculiar sense that Herbart accepted the threefold
division: he distinctly separated three elements, but sought to
deny the primitive character of two of them. The failure of the
attempt has often been remarked; for instance, he could not
resolve Volition without dragging in such words as ‘impulse’
and ‘ attainable.’
MOVEMENTS IN LAUGHTER. 671
His metaphysical point of view did not prevent Herbart from
cultivating empirical psychology, and he has the credit of origi-
nating the great psychological movement that marks the latest
period of German philosophy. Within his school the threefold
division of mind has not been farther impeached ; and outside, it
has been frankly accepted. But German writers have not been
in the habit of making it so distinctly govern the course of the
exposition as has been done in this work.
Mr. Samuel Bailey adopts the threefold partition, which he
words as follows :—I. Sensrrive AFFECTIONS, comprising (1)
Bodily Sensations, and (2) Mental Emotions. II. INrELLEcTUAL
OPERATIONS; enumerated as (1) Discerning, (2) Conceiving,
(3) Believing, (4) Reasoning. III. Wittine; subdivided into
Willing operations of the Body, and Willing operations of the
Mind.
B.—Physical accompaniments of Pleasure and Pain.—p. 295.
Mr. Herbert Spencer, in an Essay on Tears and Laughter,
has suggested that the convulsive movements of the Diaphragm,
in Laughter, are of a nature to lessen the action of the brain.
The effort made is, not to take in more air, but to take in less.
By a series of convulsive muscular contractions, the contained
air is as far as possible expelled; a short inspiration follows, and
then another series of convulsive movements ; and so on, till the
laughter ends; we being then, as we often significantly say, ‘ out
of breath.’ The result of this must be a temporary falling off in
_the absorption of oxygen; a corresponding diminution of vital
activity; and, by implication, a decrease of that high cerebral
excitement of which laughter is a consequence. In crying, too,
which, as shown, is accompanied by excess of cerebral circulation,
the action of the lungs is in essence the same. The long and
forcible expirations, and the short inspirations which characterize
it, must similarly cause deficient oxygenation and its results.—
(Essays, first series, p. 400.)
In a later work, Mr. Spencer has put forth an interesting
speculation on the Physiology of laughter, founded on an analysis
of the physical accompaniments of feeling, in many respects
identical with the view that suggested itself to me, as best in
accordance with the facts.
672 APPENDIX.
He says: ‘Strong feeling, mental or physical, being, then,
the general cause of laughter, we have to note that the muscular
actions constituting it are distinguished from most others by this,
that they are purposeless. In general, bodily motions that are
prompted by feelings are directed to special ends, as when we
try to escape a danger, or struggle to secure a gratification. But
the movements of chest and limbs which we make when laughing,
have no object. And now remark that these quasi-convulsive
contractions of the muscles, having no object, but being results
of an uncontrolled discharge of energy, we may see whence
arises their special characters—how it happens that certain
classes of muscles are affected first, and then certain other
classes. For an overflow of nerve force, undirected by any
motive, will manifestly take first the most habitual routes; and
if these do not suffice, will next overflow into the less habitual
ones. Well, it is through the organs of speech that feeling
passes into movement with the greatest frequency. The jaws,
tongue, and lips are used only to express strong irritation or
gratification; but that very moderate flow of mental energy
which accompanies ordinary conversation, finds its chief vent
through this channel. Hence it happens that certain muscles
round the mouth, small, and easy to move, are the first to con-
tract under pleasurable emotion. The class of muscles, which,
next after those of articulation, are most constantly in action (or
extra action we should say) by feelings of all kinds, are those of
respiration. Under pleasurable or painful sensations, we breathe .
more rapidly, possibly as a consequence of the increased demand
for oxygenated blood. The sensations that accompany exertion
also bring on hard breathing; which here more evidently re-
sponds to the physiological needs. And emotions, too, agreeable
and disagreeable, both, at first, excite respiration ; though the
last subsequently depress it. That is to say, of the bodily
muscles, the respiratory are more constantly implicated than any
other in those various acts which our feelings impel us to; and
hence, when there occurs an undirected discharge of nervous
energy into the muscular system, it happens that, if the quantity
be considerable, it convulses not only certain of the articulatory
and vocal muscles, but also those which expel air from the lungs.
Should the feeling to be expended be still greater in amount—
too great to find vent in these classes of muscles— another class
CONNEXION OF FEELING AND MOVEMENT, 673
comes into play. The upper limbs are set in motion. Children
frequently clap their hands in glee: by some adults the hands
are rubbed together ; and others, under still greater intensity of
delight, slap their knees and sway their bodies backwards and
forwards. Last of all, when the other channels for the escape of
the surplus nerve-force have been filled to overflowing, a yet
further and less used group of muscles is spasmodically affected :
the head is thrown back, and the spine bent inwards—there is a
slight degree of what medical men call opisthotonos. Thus, then,
the muscles first affected are those which feelling most habitually
stimulates; and as the feeling to be expended increases in
quantity, it excites an increasing number of muscles, in a succes-
sion determined by the relative frequency with which they
respond to the regulated dictates of feeling.’—(Essays, Second
Series, p. 111.)
That the impulse that causes a feeling tends also to produce
bodily movements, is to my mind incontestable. And I think
that Mr. Spencer’s remark as to the natural priority of the move-
ments in muscles small in calibre and often exercised (or, as he
elsewhere expresses it, that the influence operates first in the line
of least resistance), is sufficient to explain the selection of the
features as organs of expression by pre-eminence. The tendency
of the breathing functions to be soon affected, also falls under the
same principle.
It appears to me, however, that Mr. Spencer, by omitting to
study the difference of manifestations under pleasure and under
pain, has not only left his theory incomplete, but has made state-
ments that are too sweeping. He admits that disagreeable emo-
tions in the end depress the respiration. He speaks of a few
‘apparently exceptional cases, in which emotions exceeding a
certain intensity produce prostration,’ but maintains, neverthe-
less, that, as a general law, alike in man and in animals, ‘ there
is a direct connexion between feeling and motion; the last grow-
ing more vehement as the first grows more intense.’ My view is,
on the contrary, that the law of increase of movements by increase
of feeling, should be applied only to pleasurable feelings. I hold
that when a stimulation is of a kind to cause pain, the general
rule is, that it abates instead of originating movements. A blow
sufficiently severe will bring the activity to a stand-still at any
moment; a smaller blow will show itself in a partial stoppage of
43
674 APPENDIX.
energy. Iam not unaware of the exceptions to this rule; they
have been dwelt upon in the text. But these exceptions are very
far from subverting the rule to the extent of classing the painful
and the pleasurable stimuli under one head. I agree with Mr.
Spencer that force is never lost in the animal system, and that, in
the case of every sensation, we should enquire—‘ where is all the
nervous energy gone?’ but I am quite able to render a full
account of the effects of a hurt; they are the destruction of the
pre-existing energy of the system, the rupturing of the tissues,
and the perverting of the natural functions. They are negative,
or hostile influences; they put an arrest upon our movements,
instead of increasing them. This arrest I look upon as the pri-
mary and proper effect of the agencies of pain ; while the appear-
ances of heightened energy that would seem to confound pain
and pleasure, are but the occasional and temporary operation of
another law of the aaimal organization.
Kant, 1n a passage quoted by Sir W. Hamilton (Metaphysics,
i. 472), appears to have regarded pleasure as connected with
Conservation. The following sentences, separated from a number
of very confusing statements in the immediate context, are to this
effect: ‘ Pleasure is the feeling of the furtherance ( Beforderung ),
pain of the hindrance of life. Under pleasure is not to be under-
stood the feeling of life; for in pain we feel life no less than in
pleasure—nay, even perhaps more strongly. In a state of pain,
life appears long, in a state of pleasure, it seems brief; itis only,
therefore, the feeling of the promotion or furtherance of life,
which constitutes pleasure. On the other hand, it is not the mere
hindrance of life which constitutes pain; the hindrance must not
only exist, it must be felt to exist.’
Sir W. Hamilton has propounded a theory of pleasure and
pain, subtantially identical with the definition given by Aristotle
(Nicomachean Hthics, Book X.). It is summed up in these
words: ‘ Pleasure is the reflex of the spontaneous and unimpeded
exertion of a power, of whose energy we are conscious. Pain is
a reflex of the overstrained or repressed exertion of such a power.’
It is no part of my present plan to enter fully into the theory of
pleasure and pain; the present discussion has been exclusively
turned upon the physical concomitants, which in all the theories
quoted by Sir W. Hamilton, are mixed up with purely mental
considerations. I will only remark that the theory of Aristotle,
VOLITION IN ANIMALS AT BIRTH. 675
as rendered by Hamilton, making pleasure the concomitant of
the ‘unimpeded energy of a natural power, faculty, or acquired
habit,’ by excluding passive pleasures (a warm bath, for instance),
is obviously one-sided. The case is not bettered by giving to
energy a meaning so wide as to include our passive sensibilities ;
the definition is thereby rendered so vague as to be quite worth-
less. The adoption of such a theory is interesting only as throw-
ing light on the individuality of the holder.
C.—The Germs and the Development of Volition.—pp. 805, 418.
In a note (p. 415) I have given observations made upon two
new-born lambs, as illustrating the origin and progress of volun-
tary power. I have since had opportunities of making observa-
tions on the first movements of the calf, which bore out the main
points stated in the other case. It wasa matter of ocular demon-
stration, that the new-born calf at first did not know which way
to move to approach the cow, and had no notion of the udder or
of its whereabouts.
I have interrogated shepherds as to the circumstances attend-
ing the birth of lambs, and especially as to their ability to find
out for themselves the mother’s teats. I have been told in reply,
that when the ewe and the lamb are both vigorous, they come to-
gether very soon of their own accord; but if one, or other, or
both, are weakly, assistance must be given, otherwise the lamb is
in danger of perishing before it can find its way to the teat. This
was the most pertinent statement that I could elicit, and it is
strongly confirmatory of the general doctrine advanced in the text,
namely, initial spontaneity working under trial and error, the
successful strokes being clenched and sustained under the law of
Conservation. Great physical vigour in the lamb is necessarily
accompanied with an abundant spontaneity, the essential condi-
tion of a favourable start or commencement in the process of
volitional acquisition. 2
I have stated, under the title of the principle of Self-conser-
vation, what I deem the primitive link that connects action with
feeling. This has been expressed by Mr. Spencer, with reference
to the lowest forms of life, in the following terms :—‘ Thus, there
is not a little reason to think, that all forms of sensibility to
external stimuli, are, in their nascent shapes, nothing but the
676 APPENDIX.
modifications which those stimuli produce in that duplex process
of assimilation and oxidation which constitutes the primordial
life. No part of the tissue of a zoophyte can be touched, without
the fluids diffused throughout the adjacent parts being put in
motion, and so made to supply oxygen and food with greater
rapidity. Nutritive matter brought in contact with the surface,
which, in common with the rest of the body, assimilates, must
cause a still greater excitement of the vital actions; and so must
cause the touch of organic substance to be more promptly re-
sponded to than that of inorganic substances. A diffusion of
nutritive matter in the form of an odour will tend, in a slight
degree, to produce analogous effects.’-—(Psychology, p. 403.)
Mr. Spencer has not, as it seems to me, made the full use of
this hypothesis in his subsequent explanations of the growth of
volition. Such an assumption is requisite in order to explain
why certain movements, out of a great number happening, are
retained by preference, so as to enter into a cohering union
with definite states of feeling.
D.—Seat of revived impressions. —p. 346.
The following additional illustration, regarding the physical
seat of revived impressions, is given by Wundt. ‘If we look
long at green light, a white surface, when we turn to it, appears
red; if we look long at red light, the white surface appears
green. ‘Thus, every picture of an external object leaves behind
it an after-picture, which has the same outline as the original
picture, but is seen of the complementary colour of the original.
Now, a picture of the fancy leaves, though generally much less
intensely, an after-picture too. If, with the eye closed, a picture
of very lively colour is for a long time steadily held fixed before
the fancy, and the eye be then suddenly opened and turned upon
a white surface, the picture of the fancy is seen upon the white
ground for a short time of a colour the complement of the
original. This can take place, only because the eye has been
wearied by the sameness of the colour of the picture of the fancy,
and needs to seek relief in its complement, just as it would do
with a real coloured object before it. The experiment proves
that the nervous process in both cases is identical.’ Kant, also,
in one of his minor works, wishing to oppose the opinion that
SEAT OF REVIVED IMPRESSIONS. 677
the soul or thinking principle resides only in the brain and in
one part of it, meets the argument adduced from the feeling we
have in the head in hard thinking, as follows :—‘ What causes
the thinking soul to be felt chiefly in the brain, is perhaps this.
All thought requires the mediation of signs, which may support
the ideas to be aroused and give the necessary degree of clear-
ness. Such companion signs for our ideas are for the most part
obtained through hearing and sight, both which senses are set in
action by the impressions in the brain, since their organs lie
nearest to it. If, now, the rousing of these signs, called by
Descartes idee materiales, be properly a stimulation of the nerves
to an activity resembling that which formerly brought about the
sensation, the tissue of the brain in the act of thinking will fall
to be affected in harmony with former impressions, and thereby
become exhausted.’ Here we have a partial recognition of the
theory contended for in the text.
Sir W. Hamilton maintains substantially the same view in
the following passages :—‘I shall terminate the consideration of
Imagination proper by a speculation concerning the organ which
it employs in the representation of sensible objects.’ ‘ But ex-
perience equally proves that the intercranial portion of any
external organ of sense cannot be destroyed, without a certain
partial abolition of the Imagination proper. For example, there
are many cases recorded by medical observers of persons losing
their sight, who have also lost the faculty of representing the
images of visible objects. They no longer call up such objects
by reminiscence, they no longer dream of them. Now, in these
cases it is found that not merely the external instrument of sight
—the eye—has been disorganized, but that the disorganization
has extended to those parts of the brain which constitute the
internal instrument of this sense, that is, the optic nerves and
thalami. If the latter, the real origin of vision, remain sound,
the eye alone being destroyed, the imagination of colours and
forms remains as vigorous as when vision was entire.’ ‘ But not
only sensible perceptions, voluntary motions likewise are imitated
in and by the imagination. I can, in imagination, represent the
action of speech, the play of the muscles of the countenance, the
movement of the limbs; and, when I do this, I feel clearly that
I awaken a kind of tension in the same nerves through which, by
an act of will, I can determine an overt and voluntary motion of
678 APPENDIX.
the muscles; nay, when the play of imagination is very lively,
this external movement is actually determined.’—(Metaphysics,
ii, 169, 274.)
I quote farther a few sentences from Mr. Spencer’s theory of
Memory. ‘To remember the colour red, is to have, in a weak
degree, that psychical state which the presentation of the colour
red produces ; to remember a motion just made by the arm, is to
feel a repetition, in a faint form, of those internal states which
accompanied the motion—is an incipient excitement of all those
nerves whose stronger excitement was experienced during the
motion.’—(Psychology, p. 359.)
E.—Perception of the Material World.—p. 384.
I shall here advert to the mode of solving this great problem
agreed on by some of the most distinguished philosophers of the
present day.
Sir W. Hamilton has examined the subject at great length,
recurring to it in many parts of his writings. I select the
following quotation as sufficiently expressing his views :—‘ In the
act of sensible perception, I am conscious of two things—of
myself as the perceiving subject, and of an external reality, m
relation with my sense, as the object percewed. Of the exis-
tence of both these things I am convinced ; because I am con-
scious of knowing each of them, not mediately in something
else, as represented, but immediately in itself, as eazsting. Of
their mutual dependence I am no less convinced; because each
is apprehended equally and at once, in the same indivisible
energy, the one not preceding or determining, the other not
following or determined ; and because each is apprehended out
of, and in direct contrast to, the other.’—(Reid, p. 747.)
Mr. Samuel Bailey, in his Letters on the Philosophy of the
Human Mind, has exposed, with great clearness and force, the
equivocations of language and confusion of ideas that have
clouded the question of external perception. His own view is
expressed in the following sentence—‘ It seems to have been only
after a thousand struggles that the simple truth was arrived at,
which is not by any means yet universally received—the truth
that the perception of external things through the organs of
STATEMENTS OF REALISM. 679
sense is a direct mental act or phenomenon of consciousness, not
susceptible of being resolved into anthing else.’—p. 111.
Mr. Herbert Spencer, after reviewing the whole question at
length (Principles of Psychology, Part I), arrives at the follow-
ing conclusion—‘ These positions being granted, it inevitably
results, as we have found, that the current belief in objects as
external independent entities, has a higher guarantee than any
other belief whatever—that our cognition of existence considered
as noumenal, has a eertainty which no cognition of existence,
considered as phenomenal, can ever approach ; or in other words
—that, judged logically as well as instinctively, Realism is the
only rational creed; and that all adverse creeds are self-destruc-
tive.’—p. 59.
Now, with regard to this theory of Realism, so emphatically
vindicated by these three great speculative thinkers, I must still
take leave to demand the meaning of an external and independent
reality. If the answer be, that this also is given to us in con-
sciousness, as a@ simple, ultimate, unanalyzable, inexplicable
notion, like colour or heat, I dispute the assertion. I deny the
ultimate nature of all three notions—‘ external,’ ‘independent,’
and ‘reality.’ Every one of them admits of being explained,
analyzed, or resolved into other notions. The idea of ‘ exter-
nality,’ as applied to the object world, is a figurative employment
of the notion that we obtain in our experience of extended things.
We see an extended object—as a field, with some cattle grazing
within its enclosure, and others grazing without—and by com-
paring all such experiences, we obtain the idea of externality,
which we apply to the object-world as compared with the subject-
world. The application is, at best, but figurative ; the cases are
not parallel. The parallelism applies properly to our bodies as
compared with surrounding objects; it applies to mind only by
the questionable mode of representing the mind as a something
enclosed in the body.
Again, how do we come by our notion of ‘independent?’
Is it not by a study of the complicated arrangements of the world
about us? This is far from an elementary idea. Children do
not understand it at first. It is an abstraction from a certain
class of facts gradually disclosed in our experience. Moreover,
it is applied to the relation of subject and object with still less of
relevance than the foregoing. Indeed, this is the word that has
680 APPENDIX.
insinuated into men’s minds that erroneous opinion, which
Berkeley criticised, and which has had to be abandoned-—the
theory of a world existing apart from mind, but, coming into
contact with mind, so as to impress thereon images or ideas of
itself. Not only is the word inapplicable, as it seems to me, but
the application of it is opposed to the facts of the case. ‘In
dependence’ is neither an ultimate conception or notion, nor a
suitable derived conception, in the present instance.
Lastly, I would appeal to any candid person to say, if ‘reality’
is a simple, unanalyzable, notion. fit to enter into an axiomatic or
ultimate truth of consciousness, It is an exceedingly subtle and
complex notion, obtained from the examination of a wide range
of facts. The term is very vaguely understood by the generality
of persons. As applied to the theory of perception, it is obscure
in an especial degree.
Thus, then, I object to the Realistic creed, as presenting to us
a statement involving terms of complex and derived signification,
of doubtful meaning, and of unsuitable application. I cannot
call the theory altogether false, any more than I can call it true.
It is simply irrelevant. It is a crude figurative mode of express-
ing the greatest.distinction that we can draw within our conscious
life ; it suits the commoner purposes of mankind; but it is, in
my opinion, altogether unworthy of the name of philosophy.
I have made an attempt, in the text, to arrive at an analysis
of the great and radical contrast of the Object and the Subject.
I consider that, before invoking consciousness to attest a fact, the
fact itself should be reduced to its primitive and indivisible
elements. Such doctrines as an External world, the Freedom of
the Will, a Moral Sense, are not in a shape to be submitted to
the test of our consciousness, as I have endeavoured to point out
elsewhere (‘ Emotions and the Will,’ Liberty and Necessity, § 9).
The truths of consciousness ought to be axiomatic in the strict
sense of the word ; they should involve only ultimate notions.
I am well aware that this analysis has not given universal
satisfaction. The following is an example of the kind of criticism
it has met with.
‘ According to this, to see the sun in the heavens is to believe
that, if we could only keep on walking long enough, we might
burn our fingers; to descry the lark aloft, is to recite, by
muscular sympathy, the beating of its wings since it left its nest;
THE IMPORT OF AN RXTERNAL WORLD. 681
to think of any distant space, is to run over our locomotive
sensations in reaching it, and the opportunity of thrusting out
our own arm, when we have got there. Hmptiness means simply
scope for muscular exercise ; and the infinitude of space imports
only potential gymnastics for us under all conceivable circum-
stances. This kind of analysis of our ideas, seems to us, we
must confess, a cruel operation—a cold-blooded dissection of
them to death. The disjecta membra, given as their equivalents,
and strung together in succession to replace the original whole,
defy all identification. Look down an avenue of trees, and con-
sider whether, in appreciating its perspective, you are engaged
on the mere imagination of touches, or the computation of
fatigue P ’
I must leave the reader to judge whether a philosophical
analysis is to be refuted by the epithets ‘ cruel’ and ‘ cold-blooded,’
even if truly applied. Scientific explanations have often a repul-
sive and disenchanting effect ; and the scientific man is not made
answerable for this. To the reasons given against the adequacy
of the analysis, I am bound to furnish a reply.
When I walk down an avenue of trees, the import of what
happens to me is contained in these four particulars :—I am put-
ting forth muscular energy; my sensations of sight are changed
in accordance with my muscular energies; the sensations of my
other senses arise in the same uniform connexion with my ener-
gies; and, lastly, all other beings are affected in the same way as
myself. When I look down the avenue, without walking down,
the sight alone reveals all those facts, owing to frequent associa-
tion, and reveals no other facts. It tells me what would happen
to me, and to any other beings constituted like me, if we were to
walk down. It recalls the actual experiences of conjoint energies
and sensations, in the past, and anticipates the like in the future.
This I take to be the simple revelation of consciousness, and all
that consciousness can reveal, or that it concerns us toknow. If
an external and independent reality means anything besides those
muscular feelings and sensations, and their mutual dependence, it
is something that I am unable to imagine, and that would serve
no end. People, no doubt, will ask, is the external universe
merely an appendage of the collection of minds, vanishing when
they are gone? Are we to believe that if all minds were to be-
come extinct, the annihilation of matter, space, and time would
082 APPENDIX.
result? I reply, this is not a fair statement of the case. I may,
if I please, still speculate upon the certainty of an extended uni-
verse, although death may have overtaken all its inhabitants.
But my conception, even then, would not be an independent
reality, I should merely take on the object-consciousness of a sup-
posed mind then present. JI should conceive nothing but states
of muscular energy, conjoined with sensation.
Of the four particulars contained in the analysis, the last is
what has most contributed to suggest the externality and inde-
pendence of our object consciousness. When other beings are
found to be affected by the same sensations, on performing the
same movements, there appears to be an elimination of personality,
or of all special or individual characteristics. We think we can-
not mark the contrast strongly enough, by any process short of
cutting each one’s being into two parts, and depriving it of the
part held by us in common, because it is in common. But I still
contend, that the separation is only a figure of speech, which, like
many other figures, has a rhetorical use while involving a contra-
diction in logic. The past existence and future persistence of the
object-universe can mean to us only that if minds existed in the
past, and are to exist in the future, they would be affected in a
certain way. My object consciousness is as much a part of my
being as my subject consciousness is. Only, when I am gone,
other beings will sustam and keep. alive the object part of my
consciousness, while the subject part is in abeyance. The object
is the perennial, the common to all; the subject is the fluctuating,
the special to each. But there is nothing in the fact of commn-
nity of experience (the object) that justifies us in separating the
experience from the alliance with mind in the strict sense (the
subject).
The new Realism is little better than the old popular notion,
with Berkeley gagged.
F'.— Contiguous Association in the ideas of Natural Objects.—p. 417.
A critic in the ‘ National Review’ has represented ‘ this order
of derivation, making our objective knowledge begin with plu-
rality and arrive at unity,’ as ‘a complete inversion of our
Psychological history.’ He considers, in opposition to the expla-
nations in the text, ‘that each state of consciousness, whether
FIRST COMMENCEMENT OF OUR NOTIONS OF THINGS. 683
awakened through more or fewer channels, is, during its continu-
ance, originally simple, and resolves itself only by change of
equilibrium.’ ‘ Hxperience proceeds, and intellect is trained, not
by Association, but by Dissociation, not by reduction of pluralities
of impression into one, but by the opening out of one into many.’
Iwas perhaps wrong in not guarding my exposition in the
place alluded to, by the statement, that I was illustrating not the
first steps of all in our cognition of things, but a later stage in
our education, when we have obtained our elementary concep-
tions of body, and are engaged in combining these in all the
varieties presented by nature. In treating of the first origin of
our notions of form, colour, hardness, &c., a very different line of
remark from that in the text would have to be pursued. But we
soon arrive at a period of life when these notions are formed, and
when we recognize any new concrete object presented to us, a
building, for example, as a compound of form and effects of
colour, and lay it up in our memory by the association of those
notions. ‘The education of the mineralogist, botanist, zoologist,
proceeds, at the stage I am supposing, by association wholly,
The objects of their several studies are aggregates of qualities in
the acceptation of the text. 1 supposed the primary constituents
of the different conceptions to have been obtained by the mind,
which is the condition recognized by the critic as enabling the
principle of Association to come into play.
I have, in various parts of my two volumes, discussed the
primary origin of our ideas, so far as we are able to reason back
to the dawn of intelligence; and, in the concluding chapter of
‘The Emotions and the Will, I have dwelt upon the funda-
mentals of cognition, some of my statements on that subject ob-;
taining the approval of the same reviewer. But I am bound to
mention, that my able contemporary, Mr. Spencer, has, while
adopting substantially the same views as mine, developed this
part of the subject with a systematic completeness peculiar to
himself.— (Psychology, Part ii., Chapters on Perception, 9-17.)
It must be admitted, as the reviewer remarks, that the first
presentation to consciousness of an object, afterwards accounted
complex, does not necessarily give a feeling of complexity. The
first effect of any new presentation is an indefinable shock to the
mind, a rousing of consciousness, by the mere circumstance of
change of impression. It is impossible to describe this conscious-
684 APPENDIX.
ness as either single or complex; itis better considered as purely
vague. If the state passes away, and, after an interval, when the
mind has had other shocks, is reproduced, there arises with it the
consciousness of identity, or recognition, which is a step towards
determining and defining its character. If it is a sensation of
cold, we are led by it to reinstate the previous states of cold; and
the comparison has the effect of singling out and detaching this
experience from others, an effect already commenced by the con-
sciousness of the difference between it and other states. No long
time is necessary to recognize the complexity of our sensations :
for, if we see a fire, and feel the warmth, we dissociate the con-
junct impression by identifying the sight with former impressions
of the same colour, and the warmth with former experiences of
warmth. Assoon as we have a past to refer to, however limited,
we separate every compound sensation into its elements. If the
first sensation that combined light and warmth be vague and un-
analyzable, two or three experiences, where these occur in diffe-
rent connexions, would lead to a commencement of the disen-
tangling consciousness. Hach element in a compound would
recall the previous impressions of that element; heat would bring
up heat, blackness would go on the old track of blackness, and so
on. We cannot tell how soon this process would be distinctly
possible ; it matters little what the precise lapse of time is; we
can see that the mind after an experience, longer or shorter, must
arrive at the state representing our habitual conduct in the matter
—namely, that every complex sensation is instantaneously taken
to pieces by filing every separate ingredient on its own thread.
The round figure of a pebble revives the accumulated impression
made by all experiences of roundness; the colour is fused with
all the previous impressions of that colour; the hardness brings
yack the sum total of traces of the same hardness, and so on.
Hence, Mr. Spencer justly describes perception as a process of
classification. Of course there can be no perception until some
accumulation of separate impressions has taken place ; but it can-
not be long ere we are prepared to make a beginning in the work.
As a compositor distributing types effectually disintegrates his
compound impression of a word, by tossing an a with the a’s, and
an ” with the n’s, so we require a foregone reference for each
item of a compound sensation ; but when this has been obtained
by means of our growing stock of agreeing impressions, we are
THE OBJECT ATTITUDE OF MIND. 685
prepared for the work of combining and associating in the man-
ner attempted to be explained in the text. Not to say that the
dissociation was operated only through an association (of simi-
larity) for every element separately.
G.— Subjective studies and regards.—p. 442.
The Objective direction of the mind implies the exercise of
the senses upon the various properties of the Object world, with
the least degree of attention even to the pleasures and pains
growing out of this exercise. Extension, Form, Colour, Sound,
and the chief Tactile properties, belong to our objective attitude.
They cannot be taken cognizance of in an absolute void of sub-
jective regards, since the motives to attention are, in the last
resort, feelings, that is, elements of the Subject. In the inferior,
and more exclusively emotional, senses,—Smell, Taste, Organic
Life,—subjectivity is more developed, and attains its maximum
in the Organic sensations.
The Object attitude farther includes reflection on object pro-
perties, as when the geometer studies a problem mentally, or an
engineer meditates his plans before putting them on paper. In
these situations, the mind is conversant with subject elements, in
the form of ideas; but it thinks of these ideas as representing
object realities; it does not make a study (as a psychologist
would do) of the successions of ideas as exemplifying mental
laws.
The study of the sciences of the so-called External, or the
Object, world, is purely an object attitude. In none of them is
it absolutely necessary to be subjectively engaged. In the
practical science named Logic, maxims may indeed be derived
from the study of mind; in Kthics, this is so to a still greater
degree; but to that extent, Logic and Hthics are conversant
with the subject mind.
The various practical arts and operations conversant with
object properties (Agriculture, Manufactures, Navigation, &c.)
evoke the object regards by almost exclusive preference. Except
in the motive (the end of Aristotle), which must ever be some
feeling—pleasure or pain—such arts do not strictly involve in
their machinery anything introspective. The exception to the
rule will be noticed presently.
686 APPENDIX.
Even as regards the mind itself, our knowledge is not neces-
sarily, or wholly, subjective. It must be so in part; but as
every mental fact has a physical counterpart, and every mental
sequence runs side by side with a physical sequence, we may,
and often do, remain content with the physical aspect, and may
image the phenomena to ourselves under that aspect exclusively.
Such is the form wherein we embody our knowledge of the
inferior animals ; we make little or no attempt to penetrate into
their consciousness ; perhaps when they give evidence of acute
pain, or acute pleasure, we have a certain subjective sympathy
with those states; but we think of their characteristics mainly
under the objective manifestations , their likings and dislikings
are imaged under a variety of movements and bodily configura-
tions, like a spinning jenny or the working of a ship.
In nearly the same exclusively objective forms, we can study,
and think of, our fellow-men. We may refrain from conceiving
their pleasures, pains, emotions, ideas, in the subjective character ;
we may think of them all through the allied object appear-
ances :—such objective circumstances as material abundance or
material privation, and the objective displays in action, gesture,
and language, in symptoms of health or disease, life or death.
We may even maintain a certain propriety of conduct towards
our fellows, while considering their interests solely on the objec-
tive side. There is comparatively greater precision and certainty
in dealing with this outward side ; our senses can tell us whether
any one has had an average meal, or the usual amount of cloth-
ing; and whether the person has a satisfied cheerful look, or
very much the reverse.
The practical management of human beings may be conducted
(not badly) on the same subjective method. A military com-
mander may image or conceive his army purely as a fighting
engine, requiring material supports, and displaying itself to the
eye of sense by marching and fighting, and by outward expres-
sions of contentment or displeasure. He may never think of
their proper feelings at all; perhaps he is too exclusively bent
upon object regards, to be often aware of his own.
Nevertheless, the knowledge of beings endowed with mind is
not complete, not thorough, without, to some extent, coupling the
subject study with the object study: as will be seen when we
consider the precise nature and results of a subjective reference.
MODES OF SUBJECTIVITY. 687
1. We are in a subject state, if we are under Feeling, as when
alive to pleasure and pain. It is finally on account of these that
we exist; for these we are prompted to objective exercises and
regards: yet in the moments when the object attitude is trium-
phant, the feelings that induced it are under an eclipse ; we have
to remit the object strain, at intervals, to allow either pleasure or
pain to be felt or to come into consciousness. Now, as human
beings rarely exist in the exact mean in anything, there may be
an excessive tendency to the object attitude, brought about
chiefly by great spontaneous activity, and by the predominance
of the object senses—sight, touch, and hearing; whence too
little space is given to the subjective expansion even of moods of
pleasure. The tracts of objective indifferentism may encroach
upon our positive enjoyments, since these demand a certain
frequency of relapses into the subject attitude. Subjectivity
enlarges the area of feeling, both pleasurable and painful ; to our
gain, if pleasure is the ascendant fact, to our loss if pain pre-
dominates.
2. The Subjective attention is necessary to the recollection of
our pleasures and pains, as such, or on their purely mental side,
the side wherein lies their power as motives. The object side of
pleasure and pain,—the outward means of procuring the one or
avoiding the other, has a motive force, but only by association
with the subject fact; and it needs to be re-invigorated and
corrected by consulting the subject experience. The subjective
study is the only way of estimating things at their real worth ;
it teaches exactly what every agent does for us in the final appeal.
Not to bestow this amount of study is to leave ourselves at the
mercy of irrational fixed ideas, as wealth or the contempt of
wealth, honour, power, affection, length of life, and other things.
Subjectivity contains the part of the philosophic habit that has
regard to the intrinsic value of each worldly good, which is the
measured subjective value, ascertained by self-consciousness, and
by an accurate memory and comparison of experienced pleasures
and pains.
Thus, although without Subjectivity man may be tolerably
careful of the usual outward aids and adjuncts to happiness, it is
yet indispensable to the highest development of Prudence. It is
also, to the same extent, favourable to the fullest and truest forms
of Sympathy, or to the appreciation of the exact conscious ex-
688 APPENDIX.
perience of others, as distinguished from their outward circum-
stances and manifestations.
3. The subjective tendency is also necessary to the delicate
sense of right and wrong. Kthical self-examination, to be
thorough, must be conscious, having regard to the feelings,
motives, or intentions of the actor. It may not, however, be
essential to rectitude in all degrees, but only to the highest
degrees. The Stoical morality, as seen in Marcus Aurelius, was
intensely subjective; so also is the highest morality of the
modern world.
The best practical mode of seizing the ideal balance of the
objective and subjective regards, is, in the manner of Aristotle,
to study the extremes.
The objective regards have these signal advantages. They
are favourable to activity; they promote health ; they subdue
both a considerable amount of pain, and also morbid broodings
and discontents. They alternate the outbursts of pleasure with
large periods of satisfied indifference; thereby enhancing enjoy-
ments when they come. The delineation of Plot-Interest is the
illustration of these advantages.
The disadvantages of too great Objectivity are expressed by
the negation of what has been said in favour of the subjective
regards.
The disadvantages of excessive Subjectivity are also implicated
in the above remarks. Explicitly, they may be described as an
inactive, unhealthy, morbid preying upon self; an aggravation of
painful states generally; an extreme occupation of mind with
organic feelings, called hypochondria; a tendency to push ethical
self-examination to the point where it brings misery rather than
a stimulus to duty ; a mysticizing disposition to convert subjec-
tive abstractions, as soul, will, conscience, into independent
existences ; an extreme idealism, with a distaste for the practical
world as it is; a susceptibility to opposition and to reproach; a
revulsion against the coarse, indiscriminate energy of the objec-
tive man.
The ancient world, compared with the modern, was objective.
Homer, as a poet, was in the objective extreme; Wordsworth is
near the other extreme. Shakespeare has strong subjective
leanings ; but, in him, there is a good mixture of both,
The excess of subjectivity is seen in the religious mystics.
ELEMENTS ALLEGED TO BE INNATE. 689
An admirable example is introduced by Goethe, into ‘ Wilhelm
Meister,’ under the title ‘ Confessions of a Fair Saint.’
Adam Smith’s ‘Theory of Moral Sentiments’ is a continuous
subjective exposition ; his language and illustration preponderate
towards subjectivity.
4, The study of the mind, as a science, must contain an
element of introspection. There is difference of opinion as to
what ratio this should bear to the objective study of the physical
concomitants of the mind. Some psychologists define the science
of mind, as the science of the facts of Consciousness, meaning
Self-consciousness or subjectivity ; as, for example, Hamilton and
Cousin. -Auguste Comte, in his ‘ Cours de Philosophie Positive,’
rejected self-consciousness as a source of mental knowledge, and
proposed an exclusive ‘reference to the material adjuncts, as
exhibited in the Physiology of the brain. The only tenable:
position is the combination of both.
H.—The Abstractions—Number, Time, and Space.
In the great controversy as to whether our entire knowledge
is derived from experience, or whether part of it is derived from
an intuitwe source, the supporters of the last-named view have
tive or innate. Those elements are stated either in the shape of
Notions,—as Time, Space, Cause, or in the shape of Principles,—
as the axioms of Mathematics, and the law of Causation. In
point of fact, however, the same intuition is stated sometimes as
a notion, and sometimes as a principle. Thus the intuition of
space is considered identical with the intuition of the geometrical
axioms. The notion ‘cause,’ and the law of cause and effect,
must be treated as the same thing in a different form of speech.
For example, Mr. Mansel’s enumeration of innate elements
(exclusive of the moral sentiment) would probably be exhausted
by the notions—Time, Space, Cause, Substance, together with the
principles of Identity, Contradiction, and Excluded Middle (called
the Laws of thought). Hach of the notions could at will be ex-
pressed in the form of principles. It is sometimes said, that the
axioms of Geometry flow out of, or are derived from, the notion
of Space; but, more correctly, the notion and the axioms are to
be held as the same intuition in an altered dress.
44
690 APPENDIX.
Number. Of all the attributes of things knowable to us, the
most comprehensive and widely-spread is Quantity. We cannot
be conscious at all without the consciousness of more or less—of
degree, or quantity. Our very first acts of discrimination and of
identification have reference to the degree of our feelings; of two
differing sensations of light, one is felt as more intense than the
other; of two muscular energies, we recognize the difference of
amount. It is the same with pleasures and pains, and with feel-
ings of every description. The property called degree is insepa-
rable alike from object states and from subject states. We even
discriminate different modes of degree; we distinguish the fact
of continuance from the fact of intensity, and estimate the degree
of each by comparison with its own kind; one day is longer than
another; one flame is brighter than another.
Our estimate of degree is more or less delicate according to
the quality of the sense concerned. . In the higher senses—sight
and hearing, our discrimination is at the maximum as in the in-
teresting case of visible, or retinal, magnitude.
Quantity, or degree, is familiarly divided into two kinds—
continuous and discrete.
Continuous or unbroken quantity is the more typical form.
Its best example is the Duration of a continuous impression—the
continuance of a muscular exertion, a sound, a pleasure. It
farther applies to Extension, whose primary measure is the con-
tinuance or duration of movement. It does not apply to intensive
' quantity, or the comparison between a stronger and a weaker
impression, as the loudness of a sound, or the brilliancy of a
light.
Discrete quantity is the same as number. It supposes our im-
pressions to be interrupted, or changed; and takes advantage of
the effect of sudden change in making us acutely conscious, or
mentally wakeful. Iu the case of breaks, or interruptions, we
note the frequency of the transitions ; we mark the difference be-
tween a transition made once, and a series of those transitions—
two, three, four, and soon. This is Number. It is in various
ways a remarkable experience. In the first place, it is given by
every sensibility that we possess. By Aristotle, it was accounted
one of the common perceivables, or the notions attained through
all our senses alike ; which is true, but not the whole truth. We
have it by every one of our emotions; we distinguish a day when
NUMBER.—TIME.—SPACE. 691
we had one surprise, one fright, one fit of anger, or one burst of
tender feeling, from a day when we had two or three such expe-
riences. We have it from the flow of our ideas, which are inter-
rupted or discrete effects.
In the second place, Number is our best and most accurate
means of estimating quantity. The most delicate of our sensi-
bilities—visible magnitude, may be to some degree inaccurate ;
two persons may differ as to whether two rods exactly coincide in
length ; but nobody was ever mistaken in the difference between
one and two. Hence the highest art of measuring both continu-
ous quantity, and intensive quantity, consists in resolving each
into discrete quantity ; the beats of a clock are a surer measure
of time than the place of the hands between the dial figures.
Probably no one now contends that Number is an intuition,
or a ‘form of thought,’ provided by nature beforehand. Itis a
fact inseparable from the nature of our feelings; if these are inter-
mitted and resumed, they are, by that very circumstance, num-
bered; and if our consciousness is interrupted by beats, or tran-
sitions, it is a consciousness of number.
'Time. This is one of the intuitive ‘forms’ of the @ priori
schéol. The Experience-psychology treats it as an abstraction
from particulars. In our feeling of the continuous, whether in
movement, in sensation, in emotion, or in intellectual strain, we
have a consciousness of degree, and that consciousness is the fact
called Time, or Duration. Time in the abstract, is the generali-
zation of all these modes of the continuous, and apart from these,
or prior to these, it does not exist. We cannot be conscious of
two movements being differently prolonged,—as, for example,
lifting (at the same pace) a weight one foot and lifting it two
feet—without having a particular experience of duration; we
could not be deprived of that cognition, without being deprived
of our discriminative muscular sensibility. If this be so, a form
of thought pre-existing in the mind, corresponding to Time, is a
superfluity ; it could add nothing to our particular experiences of
duration; and our generalizing faculty can obtain out of these
whatever is meant by Time in general, or in the abstract. /
Space. The origin of our notion of the Extended, the charac-
teristic property of the object world, has been traced in its suc-
cessive stages, under the heads of Muscular Feeling (p. 95),
Touch (p. 181), Sight (p. 234), External Perception (p. 371). It
692 APPENDIX.
will, of course, be inferred that I do not regard it as an intuition
of the mind, a form of thought, or an element transcending our
actual experience. By such steps as I have endeavoured to
describe, we derive our notions of extended things,—of extension
in the concrete. And from this we can obtain an abstract notion
of the extended, in the same manner as we gain any other abstract
notion, as colour, heat, or justice.
The Kantian doctrine, which regards Space and Time as
forms of thought, and not products of our experience, has been
examined and, as I think, decisively refuted by various writers,
among whom I may name Mr. Spencer (Psychology, pp. 52, 244,
309) and Mr. Bailey (Letters on the Mind). I do not here pro-
pose to argue the point. My plan has been to exhibit what seems
to me the genesis of the notions; and if that is satisfactory to
the reader, an @ prior’ origin is disproved by being superseded.
The objections urged by Locke against innate notions generally
have never, to my mind, been repelled; and they have been re-
inforced since his time. It may be granted, however, that Locke
did not succeed in explaining how we come by such notions as
Space, Substance, and Power. The five senses, as commonly
understood, are inadequate to the purpose. I am satisfied, how-
ever, that when the muscular feelings are fully taken into the
account, the difficulty exists no longer. The @ priori notion of
space has a shadowy and evanescent character in the hands of
Sir W. Hamilton, who concedes an empirical knowledge of ex-
tension, as an element of ‘ existence.’ He proposes to give ‘ the
name extension to our empirical knowledge of space, and to
reserve the name of space for space considered as a form, or
fundamental law of thought.’ I confess myself altogether unable
to follow him in constituting a difference between (empty) exten-
sion and space.
I.—Classyication of the Intellectual Powers.
‘The Intellectual powers were classified by Reid as follows :—
Hzternal Senses ; Memory ; Conception, or Simple Apprehension ;
Abstraction, under which he discussed the questions of Nominal-
ism, Realism, &c. ; Judgment, or the theory of Common Sense as
a basis of truth, the distinction between Necessity and Contingent
Truth, &c.; Reasoning, which contains under it Demonstration
CLASSIFICATIONS OF REID AND STEWART. 693
and Probable Reasoning; Taste. He does not specify Imagina-
tion, nor allude to it, except indirectly under Taste.
Dugald Stewart added to the above scheme Consciousness,
Attention, Association of Ideas, and Imagination ; and omitted
Taste. His enumeration stands thus :—QOonsciousness ; Haternal
Perception; Attention; Conception; Abstraction; Association of
Ideas ; Memory ; Imagination ; Reasoning. Under the last-named
head, Reasoning, he discusses matters principally appertaining
to Logic; the nature of Belief, Evidence, Demonstration, the
Aristotelian Syllogism, and Induction.
These two schemes are liable to a common objection. They
are not an analysis of our intellectual operations; they do not
separate the intellect into its different functions, supposing it to
have a plurality of functions. They are merely the popular
designations for the employment of the intellectual powers in
certain distinct departments of exertion ; as, for example, Imagi-
nation for Wine Art, Reasoning for Science, Memory for in-
tellectual acquisition generally. They farther agree in containing
matter irrelevant to the science of mind.
Reid is specially chargeable with the anomaly of including
the feelings of Beauty, &c., in the intellect. The only remedy
for this would have been to adopt the threefold partition of the
mind.
Stewart has committed the irregularity of placing an exercise
of volition among the intellectual faculties, namely, Attention.
In introducing the Association of Ideas, he has fallen into the
error, pointed out by Mr. Bailey (Letters on the Mind, First
Series, p. 72), of placing the same subject on two foundations.
The Association of Ideas, if good for anything, is competent to
supersede Memory, Reason, imagination, &c., by explaining all
the phenomena that they severally imply. It cannot, therefore,
be co-ordinate with these powers.
Sir W. Hamilton gives six Intellectual Faculties ; Presentative,
including the Senses, and Self-consciousness as the knowledge of
mental phenomena; Conservative, or Memory; Reproductive,
depending on the Laws of Association ; Hlaborative, or Abstrac-
tion and Reasoning; Representative, or Imagination; and Regu-
lative, which includes the instinctive sources of truth. The first
of these, the Presentative, recognizes the senses as the first source
of our ideas, and is merely another form of prefacing Intellect
694 APPENDIX.
by Sensation. The second department of the Presentative
relates to the knowledge of mental, or subject states, as sensation
is supposed to relate to object states. In like manner, Stewart
thought it necessary to specify the source of our mental know-.
ledge, by giving ‘ consciousness’ at the head of his enumeration.
There is a theoretical completeness attained by this plan; but
the explanation in detail of the nature of the self-conscious, or
introspective, faculty is inadequate in both writers. It is a
matter of great subtlety. I have endeavoured to handle it, to
the best of my power, in a late stage of the exposition of the
Intellect. (Contiguity, § 71, p. 442.)
Hamilton’s Conservative Faculty, viewed by itself, would be
another name for Memory or Retentiveness. But when we take
this with the third in the list, the Reproductive, including the Laws
of Association, a very serious objection arises. | Of Conservation
apart from Reproduction, we know nothing. That I have a
thing in my memory, means that, on a certain prompting, I can
reproduce it, or make it present. Conservation without repro-
duction would be a nonentity ; reproduction carries with it what-
ever we mean by conservation. | Then, the criticism above made
with reference to Stewart’s ‘ Association of Ideas,’ applies equally
to Hamilton. If he makes Reproduction a power of the mind in
the sense of Association, he might explain by means of it the
Hlaborative, or Scientific, faculty, and the Representative, or Ima-
gination. By the Regulative faculty, Hamilton means what Reid
calls Common Sense, or Instinctive Judgments, and what has also
been called the ‘ Reason,’ in a certain peculiar acceptation, in
which it renders the Greek vods, and the German Vernunft. It
is the source of the & priori principles of the mind ; and Hamilton
discusses under it the ‘ Law of the Conditioned,’ which he more
especially developes into a theory of the instinctive belief in Cause
and Effect. This law corresponds in a great measure to the prin-
ciple of Universal Relativity, a principle applied, in like manner,
by Mr Spencer, to the theory of causation. (First Principles, p.
241.)
Mr. Bailey’s classification of the powers of the Intellect is
given above (A). He proposes a division into four genera, with
species under each. I. Discerning, divided into Sense-discern-
ment, and discernment not through the senses. This corresponds
to Sir W. Hamilton’s Presentative Faculty. Under the second
CLASSIFICATIONS OF BAILEY AND SPENCER. 695 ©
kind of discernment, I presume he would include introspection,
or self-consciousness. II. Conceiving—that is, having ideas or
mental representations. There are three species of this power.
(1.) Conceiving without individual recognition. (2.) Remember-
ing, conceiving, with individual recognition. (3.) Imagining, or
conceiving under new combinations. III. Believing, (1.) on evi-
dence, and (2.) without evidence. IV. Reasoning, of two kinds,
Contingent and Demonstrative.
As Mr. Bailey has not made this scheme the basis of a full
exposition of the mind, we are not in a position to judge fully of
its merits. I should be disposed to differ from him as to the
placing of Belief among intellectual operations, for reasons stated
elsewhere. Apart from this, the classification is open to the same
objection (if the author would consider it an objection) as all the
foregoing ; there is no analysis of the ultimate and distinct pro-
perties or functions of the intellect; the divisions are not mu-
tually exclusive. Imagining and Reasoning are not separate
functions, but the same functions and powers applied differently.
It seems to me requisite to present such an analysis, in the first
instance, in order to see what our intellectual powers really are ;
and then to trace the workings of these in such operations as
Memory, Reasoning, and Imagination.
Mr. Spencer, in his Essays (Second Series, p. 189), has indi-
cated a classification to the following effect. He speaks of the
Intellect under the name of Coanitions, which he defines as the
relations subsisting among our Feelings, and divides into four
sub-classes. I. Presentative Cognitions, by which he means the
localizing of sensations in the body, as in knowing, when hurt,
what is the part affected. II. Presentative-representative Cogni-
tions, by which is meant the perception of things in wholes from
the sensation of some of their other constituents, as when the
sight of an orange brings to mind all its other attributes. III.
Representative Cognitions, including all acts of recollection. IV.
Re-representative Cognitions, including the higher abstractions
formed by the assistance of symbols, as in Mathematics.
TI can have little doubt that when Mr. Spencer expounds this
classification in detail, he will do much to elucidate the workings
of the intellect. But, with the fullest deference to his philo-
sophical acuteness, I consider that it proceeds from a mistaken
point of view. In the science of mind we have to deal not with
696 APPENDIX.
cognitions, things cognized, or the products of cognition, but
with the cognitive powers, with the forces, functions, or attributes
of mind called intellectual. A classification of our cognitions
may throw light upon the cognitive powers; we must make use
of them in illustration, but what we have mainly to deal with, is
the process, or the means of arriving at those cognitions. The
means are, as I believe, and as Mr. Spencer would admit, the
three primary powers of Difference, Agreement, and Retentive-
ness. Consequently I consider that the unfolding of the mech-
anism of the intellect consists in the systematic exposition of
these powers, and in the reference to them of all the popularly
recognized faculties. I know of no other plan that has an equal
likelihood of being comprehensive and exhaustive of the pheno-
mena. Such a scheme as Mr. Spencer’s would answer certain
partial ends; it would probably discuss once for all some im-
portant notions, such as Space and Time, whose derivation is, in
this volume, broken up and scattered over different parts of the
work. But, until actually shown by him to be capable of intro-
ducing, in a full and systematic way, all that I consider essential
to an exposition of the Intellect, I doubt its adequacy for this
end.
STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY ARTHUR KING AND COMPANY, ABERDEEN,
By the same Author.
THE EMOTIONS AND THE WILL, completing a Sys-
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Hdition. With Hmendations. lds. Od.
MENTAL AND MORAL SCIENCE. A Compendium of
Psychology and Hthics. 10s. 6d.
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