CHAPTER VIII.

OF THE ORIGIN AND DEVELOPMENT OF THE ANIMAL LIFE.

If there be any circumstance, which establishes a real line of demarcation between the two lives, this circumstance undoubtedly is the mode and epoch of their origin. The organic life is active from the very first moment of our existence; the animal life begins after birth only; for without external excitants the latter is as necessarily condemned to inaction, as without the fluids of the œconomy, which are its internal excitants, the former would become extinct. But the subject, on which we are now engaged deserves a more particular discussion, and in the first place let us examine, in what manner the animal life, which for some time is absolutely null, is born as it were and developed.

I. _In the fœtus the first order of the functions of the animal life is not as yet in action._

The instant, at which the fœtus begins to exist, is nearly that of its conception; but this existence, the sphere of which is every day enlarged, is not the same as that, which the child is destined to enjoy after birth.

The state, in which the fœtus exists while in the womb, has been compared to that of a profound sleep. Such comparison is inexact. In a state of sleep the animal life is only in part suspended. In the fœtus it has not commenced. We have seen in fact, that this life is made up of the simultaneous or distinct exercise of the senses, of the nerves, of the brain, of the organs of locomotion, and the voice. Now in these different functions every thing in such state is inactive.

Every sensation supposes the action of external bodies upon our own, together with the perception of such action; a perception which takes place by virtue of the sensibility of the system, which is either general or particular, for the tact is the faculty of perceiving general impressions, and has for its object to warn us of the presence of bodies, together with their common attributes, such as heat, cold, dryness, or humidity, hardness or softness. To perceive the particular modifications of bodies is the business of the senses.

Has the fœtus in utero any general sensations? To decide this question, let us enquire whether any impressions are capable there of exercising its tact. The fœtus lives in a temperature at all times the same, swims in a fluid, and is thrown from time to time against the parietes of the womb: such are the three sources of its general sensations.

We shall now remark, that the two former are next to nothing, and that the fœtus cannot have a consciousness of the medium, in which it is nourished, nor of the heat, by which it is penetrated, for every sensation supposes a comparison between an actual and a past state of being. We are sensible of cold, only because we have experienced an antecedent heat; were the temperature of the atmosphere invariable, we should have no idea whatever of temperature. The Laplander enjoys himself in a climate, which would be pain, and death to the Negro, if suddenly transported thither. It is not at the time of the solstices, but at that of the equinoxes, that our sensations of heat, and cold are the most lively. The reason of which must be, that at the latter seasons, their varieties are more numerous, and occasion more frequent comparisons between that, which we feel and that which we have felt.

What we have now said of temperature, we may repeat with respect to the waters of the amnios: the fœtus cannot be sensible of their influence, because the contact of any other medium is unknown to it. Before bathing, we are not sensible of the air, after bathing, the impression made by it upon us is unpleasant. It then affects us because there has been an interruption of its action upon the cutaneous organ.

Is the shock of the parietes of the matrix a more real cause of excitement, than the waters of the amnios, or temperature? At first we might be inclined to answer this question in the affirmative, because the fœtus being only at intervals subject to such stimulus, there should appear to result from thence a sensation. But let us remark that the density[41] of the uterus in a state of pregnancy being little greater than that of its waters, the impression must be trifling. In fact the more the consistence of bodies resembles that of the medium in which we live, the less powerful will be their action upon us. Water for instance, when reduced into vapour in our common fogs, and mists, affects the tact but slightly; in proportion as it is condensed it is the cause of a livelier affection.

The air then, to the animal which breathes, is truly the general comparative term, to which he refers all the sensations of tact. If the hand be plunged into carbonic acid gas, such substance will not affect the tact because its density is little different from that of the air.

The variety then of these sensations is in proportion to the difference existing between the density of the air, and that of the bodies, which are the occasion of such sensations. In the same way, the measure of the sensation of the fœtus must be the excess of density in the matrix above that of its waters. Now such excess being very inconsiderable, the sensation of it must be very obtuse.

This assertion with respect to the fœtus will become more general if we add to it the following: namely, that the mucous membranes, which are the seat of an inward tact have not as yet begun to exercise their functions. These membranes, after birth, being continually in contact with extraneous substances, possess in these bodies so many causes of irritation, which being continually repeated, become excitants to the organs: but in the fœtus there is no succession in these causes. The same urine, the same meconium, the same mucus at all times exercise their action upon the bladder, the intestines, and pituitary membrane.

From all this we may conclude, that the general sensations of the fœtus are very inconsiderable, though it should appear that the child in this state is surrounded by many of the causes, which are hereafter to beget sensations. Neither are the particular sensations of the fœtus more active; indeed they cannot be so for their causes are absent.

The eye which is closed by the pupillary membrane, and the nostrils, which are scarcely indicated, would not be capable of receiving impressions, even in the supposition that light and odour could act upon them. Applied against the palate, the tongue is in contact with nothing capable of producing savour. Were it in contact with the waters of the amnios, the effect would be the same, because as we have said, there is no sensation, where there is no variety of impression. The saliva of one person to another person possesses savour, to the individual himself it is insipid.

The ear in like manner is awakened by no sound. All is calm, every thing reposes with the little individual.

Here then we have proved, that four of the gates of sensation are shut in the fœtus; and let us now observe that the nullity of action in the senses which we have mentioned, must occasion very nearly the same nullity with respect to that of the touch.[42]

In fact, this sense is especially destined to confirm the notions which are acquired by the others, and to rectify them, for the latter are frequently illusory--the touch is always the agent of truth.[43] In attributing to the touch such use, nature has submitted it directly to the will; light, odours, and sounds affect their respective organs independently of the will.

The exercise of the other senses precedes that of the touch, they are the occasion of it. If a man were born without sight, hearing, smell, or taste, can we conceive in what way, he would be possessed of the sense of touch?

The fœtus resembles such a man; it possesses wherewithal to exercise the touch in its hands, which are already developed, and in the parietes of the matrix. Nevertheless the fœtus is never in action, because in seeing, in hearing, in smelling, and in tasting nothing, it is not disposed to exercise the touch in any way. Its members are little better than what to the tree are its branches, which do not transmit the impression of the bodies, with which they are entangled.

I shall here notice a great difference between the tact and the touch; they were formerly confounded by physiologists; the impressions of the latter are always directed by the will, those of the former do not depend on it. We shall conclude that the portion of the animal life which constitutes sensation, does not exist in the fœtus.

This nullity of action in the senses supposes the same deficiency of action in the nerves, which belong to them, and in that of the brain from whence they issue; for the business of the former is to transmit, of the latter to receive. Now without objects for transmission and reception, the two functions cannot have place.

From perception are immediately derived the memory and imagination; from these the powers of the judgment and the will. All this series of faculties then has not had a beginning in the fœtus, because the fœtus has not perceived, or had sensation. The brain exists in a state of expectation, it possesses all that is requisite for action. It does not want excitability, but stimulus. The first division of the animal life in consequence, or that, which relates to the action of exterior bodies, on the animal, has scarcely an outline in the fœtus. Let us examine whether the same be true of the second division of the animal life, or that which relates to the reaction of the living body.

II. _Locomotion exists, but belongs in the fœtus to the organic life._

When we see the strict connexion which exists in animals, between sensation and their voluntary efforts, we might be induced to believe, that voluntary motion increases or diminishes with the increase or diminution of sentiment; for as sentiment furnishes out the materials of the will, when it does not exist, volition cannot exist: from induction to induction, it might thus be proved that in the fœtus the muscles must be totally inactive.

Nevertheless the fœtus moves, and sometimes even very strong shocks are the result of its motions. The reason why it does not produce sound, is because the medium for the production of sound is wanting. But how can we ally the inertia of the first part of the animal life with the activity of the second. It is thus.

We have seen in speaking of the passions, that the muscles of locomotion are brought into action in two manners. 1st, by the will; 2dly, by sympathy. This last mode of action occurs, when from the affection of an inward organ the brain is affected also, and occasions a motion which, in such case, is involuntary. A passion, for instance, affects the liver, the liver the brain, the brain the voluntary muscles. Here it is the liver, not the brain, which is the principle of motion: so that the muscles, though always thrown into action, immediately from the irradiations of the brain, belong nevertheless, as to their functions, sometimes to the one life, sometimes to the other.

Hence it is easy to conceive in what way the fœtus moves: with the fœtus, locomotion is not a portion of the animal life; its exercise does not suppose a pre-existent will; it is purely a sympathetic effect.

In utero the phenomena of the organic life succeed each other with an extreme rapidity; a thousand different motions are incessantly connected in the organs of circulation and nutrition. In these, every thing is energetically in action. But this activity of the organic life supposes a frequent influence exerted upon the brain by the inward organs, and consequently as many reactions on the part of the brain by sympathy upon the muscles. Besides, the brain is at such time more susceptible of such sort of influence, being much more developed than the other organs, and entirely passive on the side of the sensations.

We may now conceive what the motions or the fœtus are. They belong to the same class as many of those of the adult, which have not been as yet sufficiently distinguished. They are the same as those which are produced in the voluntary muscles by the passions; they resemble those of the man who sleeps, and who moves without dreaming, for nothing is more common than violent agitation in sleep succeeding difficult digestion. The stomach is in strong action; it acts upon the brain; the brain upon the muscles.

I might find a number of other involuntary organic motions taking place in the voluntary muscles of the adult, and consequently adducible to my present purpose; but what I have said on this subject will suffice. Let us remark only, that the organic motions, as well as the sympathetic affection of the brain, which is the seat of them, must gradually dispose this organ, and the muscles of the fœtus, the one to the perception of sensations, and the other to the motions of the animal life, which are to commence after birth. But on this head I shall refer to the memoirs of Monsieur Cabanis.

From what has been said, then, I believe we may confidently assert, that in the fœtus the animal life does not exist, and that all the actions which take place at this age, depend upon the organic life. The fœtus, indeed, has nothing of the especial character of the animal. Its very existence is that of the vegetable; and its destruction can only be said to be that of a living body, not of an animated being. Thus, in the cruel alternative of sacrificing the life of the mother, or that of the child, the choice cannot be doubtful.

The crime of destroying a fellow-creature is much more relative to his animal, than to his organic life.--We regret the being who feels, who reflects, who wills, who acts accordingly, and not the being which breathes, which is nourished, which is the seat of the circulation and the secretions. It is the former, whose violent death is accompanied with those images of horror, under which we look on homicide. In proportion then as in the series of animals, their intellectual functions diminish, is diminished also the painful sentiment which we feel at sight of their destruction.

If the blow, which terminates by an assassination the life of a man, were to destroy his organic life only, and suffer the other to subsist without alteration, such blow would be regarded with indifference, would excite neither pity for the victim, nor horror against the aggressor.

III. _Development of the animal life, education of its organs._

A new mode of existence commences for the infant after birth; a variety of functions are added to its organic life; their aggregate become more complicated; their results are multiplied. As for the animal life, it only begins; and at this period a number of relations are established between the little individual and what surrounds him. It is then that every thing assumes with him a different mode of being, but at this remarkable epoch of the two lives, where the one is augmented by almost the half, and where the other commences only, they take upon them both a distinct character, and the aggrandisement of the first by no means follows the same laws as the development of the second.

We shall soon remark, that the organs of the internal life attain at once their perfection, and that from the instant at which they begin to act, they act with as much precision as they ever will do. On the contrary, the organs of the external life require a species of education; they arrive only by degrees at the perfection which we afterwards see in them. This important difference should be thoroughly examined. Let us begin by appreciating of what the animal life at first consists.

In examining the different functions of this life, which start at once into existence, we shall observe in their development a slow and graduated progress.--We shall see, that it is insensibly and by means of a real education that the organs attain a precision of action.

The sensations are at first confused; they transmit only general images; the eye has only the sensation of light; the ear that of sound only; the nose only that of smell. As yet there is nothing distinct in these general affections of the senses; but from habit the strength of the first impression is lessened and the particular sensations take place. The great differences of colours, sounds, smells, and savours, become perceptible; by little and little their secondary differences also are perceived, and after a certain lapse of time the child has learnt to see, to hear, to smell, to taste, and to touch.

After successfully undergoing the operation for the cataract, the patient, who has previously been totally blind, is sensible of light only, and learns by gradation to distinguish the objects which reflect it. Another person, before whom, as I have said, for the first time is exhibited the magnificent spectacle of an opera, at the first glance, perceives only a whole, which delights him, and only by degrees is able to isolate the enjoyments of which the dance, the music, and the decorations are productive.

The education of the brain is similar to that of the senses. Whatever depends upon its action, acquires the perfection, to which it is destined, by degrees only. The powers of perception, memory and imagination, which are all of them preceded and occasioned by the sensations, increase and extend in proportion as by repeated excitement they are brought into exercise.--The judgment, of which they form the triple base, associates but irregularly at first its motions, which themselves are but irregular. In a short time a greater degree of perspicuity is observed in its operations, and lastly they become precise and rigorous.

The voice and the agents of locomotion exemplify the same phenomenon: the cries of young animals at first are only an unformed sound, which possesses no sort of character: by age they are gradually modified, and after long repeated exercise affect the peculiar consonances of the species, by which, and particularly during the season of their loves, the individual of the same species is never deceived.[44] I do not instance the speech of man, for this is evidently the fruit of education.

In examining the newly born animal, its muscles will be seen continually in action. As every thing is new to it, every thing is an excitant to it, and makes it move; it endeavours to touch every thing, but neither progression, nor the power of standing can have place when the contractions of the voluntary muscles are so numerous. It is necessary for such, that habit shall have taught it to combine particular contractions with other particular contractions; until then it stumbles and falls at every moment.

Undoubtedly the inclination of the pelvis in the fœtus, the disposition of the femora, and the want of curvature in the spine, adapt it but little for standing immediately after birth; but with these causes is certainly also combined the want of exercise.[45] Who does not know, that if a limb be suffered to remain immoveable for a length of time, it loses the habit of moving, and that when afterwards its service is required, it requires a new kind of education before it can exercise its movements with any regularity or precision. The man, who for a long time should condemn himself to silence, would experience in like manner the same embarrassment in his first attempt at utterance.

From these considerations we may conclude that our exterior life, to allow myself the expression, is learnt, and requires before it can be perfected, a sort of apprenticeship.

IV. _Of the influence of society over the education of the organs of the animal life._

Over this sort of education, which the organs of the animal life receive, society exercises a very great influence; it enlarges the sphere of action of some of them, lessens it for others, and modifies it in them all.

I shall first remark, that it constantly gives to some of the organs a perfection greater than naturally should be their portion. Such in fact is the nature of our occupations as always to require the especial action of some one, or other of these organs. The ear of the musician, the palate of the cook, the brain of the philosopher, the muscles of the dancer, and the larynx of the singer, receive in addition to the general education of the exterior life, a particular education.

Under these considerations, the occupations of mankind might be divided into three classes. The first would comprehend all those, which especially regard the senses, such as painting, music, and sculpture, the acts of the perfumer and the cook, and in a word all those the results of which are productive of pleasure to the senses. In the second would be ranged the occupations, wherein the brain is chiefly called into action; such as poetry, the sciences of nomenclature, the mathematics and metaphysics. The occupations of dancing, equitation, and the mechanic acts would form the third class.[46]

Each several occupation then of the individual, brings into permanent activity, some one organ in particular, and gives it a peculiar perfection. The ear of the musician in a piece of harmony, and the eye of the painter in a picture, distinguish many things which entirely escape the vulgar. It frequently happens that this perfection of action, is accompanied in the more exercised organ with an excess of nutrition: this we may frequently observe in the muscles of the arm of the baker, in those of the inferior limbs of the dancer, and in those of the countenance of the player.

In the second place I have asserted that society contracts the sphere of action, which should naturally belong to many of the external organs. Indeed, for the sole reason that any one of them is the more occupied, the others must be less so, and lose in aptitude what is gained by the single organ. The most common observation will prove this truth at every moment.

Examine the philosopher, who in his abstract meditations, and in the silence of the closet condemns to inaction his external and locomotive powers. Examine him by chance attempting any exercise of the body, and you will laugh at his awkwardness and air of constraint; his sublime conceptions astonish, the heaviness of his movements is amusing.

Examine on the contrary the dancer, who by the lightness of his steps exhibits apparently to the eye whatever the graces of fable have set before the imagination. It might be imagined perhaps that the profoundest meditations, have been productive of such felicity of motion; but let him be conversed with, and nothing very surprising will be found in the man.

The observing mind, which analyses the different individuals of society at every moment, will be led to similar remarks. Perfection of action in the locomotive organs, concurring with a like perfection of intellect, will seldom be found.

V. _Of the laws, which regulate the education of the organs of the animal life._

It is manifest then that society inverts the natural order of education in the animal life, and that it irregularly distributes to the different organs of this life, a perfection which they would otherwise enjoy in a more uniform proportion.

A determined sum of power, has been attributed to every individual, which sum must always remain the same, whether it be equally or unequally distributed, accordingly the activity of one organ must imply more or less inactivity in the others.

This truth will conduct us to the fundamental principles of all social education whatever; namely, that no individual at the same time, should be applied to many studies, even if it be wished that he should succeed in all of them. Philosophers have long insisted upon this maxim, but I doubt whether the moral reasons on which they have founded it, are all of them together worth this single and beautiful physiological observation by which it is demonstrated, that for the purpose of augmenting the powers of one organ, there are no other means than those of diminishing the powers of the others. On this account I shall dwell upon this observation, and prove its truth by a variety of facts.

The ear, and especially the touch, acquire in the blind man, a perfection which would hardly be credited, were not its reality proved by daily observation. The deaf and dumb possess in the eye an accuracy of sight, which is unknown to those, with whom the powers of the ear and utterance are unfolded. Little connexion with external objects, enfeebles the senses of persons who are subject to ecstasy, but gives the brain a power of contemplation, such as to make it appear, that every part of the animal life, excepting that organ, during such affection is in a state of sleep.

But what occasion is there for seeking in extraordinary facts, the proof of a law which the animal in its healthy state exemplifies at every moment. Let us consider in the series of animals the relative perfection of each organ, and it will be seen at once, that where any one of them is excellent, the others are less perfect. The eagle, which has a very piercing sight, has but a very obtuse sense of smell; in the dog, the latter sense is extremely fine, the former dull. The sense of hearing is particularly acute in the hare, that of touch in the bat; the cerebral action predominates in the monkey, and vigour of motion in the feræ.

Every species then possesses some particular division of its animal life, in a degree of excellence superior to that of the others. Not a single instance will be found, where the perfection of one organ does not appear to be acquired at the expense of the others. Man in general, abstraction being made of every other consideration, has the ear particularly good, and in the natural order of things, this must be so; because his speech, which exercises the ear incessantly, is for this organ a permanent cause of activity, and therefore of perfection. And not only in the animal life is this law remarkable; but it appears to have place also, in all the phenomena of the organic life. The morbid affection of one of the kidneys, of one of the parotid glands, will double the secretion of the other.

Let us now examine what happens in the process of digestion. Each system at such time is the seat of an exaltation of the vital powers. Immediately after the entry of the aliments into the stomach, the action of all the gastric viscera is augmented, the powers of life are concentrated about the epigastrium, and abandon the organs of the external life; from thence arise, as authors have observed, the lassitude, the inaptitude of the senses to the reception of external impressions, the tendency of the individual to sleep, and the cold which is so frequently felt in the integuments.

The gastric digestion being completed, the vascular succeeds, and the chyle is introduced into the circulatory torrent, for the purpose of undergoing the influence of this system, and that of respiration; accordingly the blood-vessels and lungs become in their turn, the focus of an increased action, the pulse rises, and the movements of the thorax are precipitated.[47]

It is then the glandular, then the nutritive system which enjoy a marked superiority in the state of their vital powers. Lastly, when these powers have been successively developed, over all the system, they return to the organs of the animal life, the senses resume their activity, the functions of the brain their energy, the muscles their vigour. Whoever reflects upon what he has experienced after a somewhat copious repast, will be easily convinced of the truth of these remarks.

In this way, the whole of the functions represent a species of circle, of which the one half belongs to the organic, the other to the animal life, the vital powers seem successively to traverse these two halves. When they are found in one half, the other is proportionably deprived of them, nearly in the same manner as every thing appears to languish and be reanimated in the two portions of the globe, accordingly as the sun refuses, or sheds down his beneficent influence.

Should any farther proof be required of this inequality of distribution with regard to the vital powers, we may find it in the process of nutrition. This process has always an excess of action in some one of the organs, which at such time may be said to live more than the others do. In the fœtus, the brain and the nerves, the inferior members after birth, and at the age of puberty, the genital parts and breast appear to grow at the expense of the others.

From such a variety of considerations, we may establish the following to be a fundamental law of the distribution of the vital powers, namely, that when they increase in one part, they decrease in the rest of the living œconomy, that the sum of them can never be augmented, and that they only transfer themselves successively from one organ to another. By the help of these general data, it is easy to perceive why we cannot at the same time attain to perfection in the various parts of our animal life, why we cannot at the same time excel in all the sciences.

Universality of knowledge in the same individual is a chimera; it is repugnant to the laws of our organization, and if history afford us some few instances of extraordinary men, who have thrown an equal light upon many of the sciences, such instances are but so many exceptions to the common laws of nature; for who are we, that we should venture on the pursuit of many things at once, and hope to attain in all of them a perfection, which for the most part, even when we have but a single object in view, escapes us?

Were we capable of following at once a number of occupations, such occupations would be those which have the greatest analogy among themselves with respect to the organs which they bring into exercise: and by restraining ourselves in this way within a narrow circle, we may, indeed, with a greater degree of facility excel in many parts; but even here the great secret of being superior in any one of them, is that of possessing but a mediocrity in the others.

Let us take, for example, the sciences, which bring into action the functions of the brain. We have seen that these functions relate especially to the memory, which presides over nomenclature; to the imagination, under the empire of which, is poetry; to the attention, which is chiefly excited by the details of calculation; and to the judgment, whose dominion embraces the whole of the sciences of reasoning. Now it is manifest from daily observation, that not one of these different operations of the mind is to be developed but at the expense of the others.

The habits of reciting the beauties of Corneille or Racine, we might naturally suppose would enlarge the mind of the actor; what can be the reason that from such habit he does not acquire an energy of conception beyond that of the vulgar? The reason depends in part, no doubt, upon the natural disposition of the man, but at the same time may be deduced from the greater efforts of memory, and the faculty of imitation, which such a person is obliged to exert: for the purpose of enriching these, the other parts of the brain are in a manner plundered.

Accordingly, when I perceive an individual, desirous at the same time of excelling by address of hand, in the operations of surgery, by depth of judgment in the practice of medicine, by extent of memory in botany, and by force of attention in metaphysical contemplation, methinks I see a physician, who, for healing a disease, for the purpose of expelling, according to the old expression, the morbific humour, at the same time undertakes to augment the whole of the secretions by the simultaneous use of sialagogues, diuretics, sudorifics, emmenagogues, &c. &c.

But would not the slightest acquaintance with the laws of the economy, suffice for hinting to such physician, that one gland pours forth a greater quantity of fluid, only because the others secrete a less? Should he not know that such a variety of medicines can operate in no decided way, and that to exact too much of nature, is frequently the means of obtaining nothing? The same may be asked of the individual who is desirous of simultaneous perfection, both in the bodily and mental exercises, who should pretend to double or triple his relative life, when nature has willed that he should only have the power of detaching from some few of his organs, some few degrees of force, which may be added to one or more of his other organs, and by no means that of increasing the sum of these powers.

Do we wish that any one organ in particular shall attain to perfection, we must condemn the others to inaction. We castrate men to change their voices; it is astonishing that the barbarous idea of depriving them of sight has not been found out also for the purpose of rendering them musicians, since it is well known how acute the sense of hearing is in the blind. The child, who should be destined to music, ceteris paribus, would make a much more rapid progress, were his ears to be assailed by harmonious sounds only, and every thing removed which might be capable of exercising his other senses.

It is a truth, then, that our superiority in such or such an art and science, may almost always be measured by our inferiority in other respects; and that this general maxim which the greater number of the ancient philosophers have insisted on, but which many of our modern ones would willingly overturn, has for its foundation one of the great laws of the animal economy, and will ever be as immutable as the base on which it rests.

VI. _Of the education of the animal life as to duration._

The education of the organs of the animal life, is prolonged for a time which we cannot determine, as it is influenced by such a variety of circumstances; but the peculiarity of this education consists in its being the business of each age, to bring to perfection certain organs in particular.

In childhood, the senses more especially are educated; every thing seems to relate to the development of their functions. Environed with bodies which are new to him, the little individual seeks to know them all; he maintains in a sort of perpetual expectation those organs by which his connexions with what is near him are established, and undoubtedly his sensibility is excessively developed. His nervous compared with his muscular system, is proportionally very great; accordingly for the dissection of the nerves, we always prefer the bodies of children.

With the education of the senses, the improvement of the functions of the brain which relate to sensation is necessarily connected. In proportion, then, as the sum of the sensations becomes enlarged, the memory and imagination begin to come into play. The age which follows infancy, is that of the education of those parts of the brain in which these faculties are seated.--It is then, that there have existed a sufficient number of antecedent sensations for the exercise of the memory, and for the discovery of the type of those illusory sensations which it is the business of the imagination to assemble. On the other hand, the little activity of the judgment at this epoch is much in favour of the energy of these two faculties; and then the revolution which puberty brings on, the taste which it develops, and the desires which it creates, contribute very much to extend the sphere of the latter of them.

When perception, memory, and the imagination have been perfected, when their education is finished, that of the judgment commences, or rather becomes more active, for the judgment begins to be exercised upon the very first materials, with which it is presented. At this epoch the functions of the senses, and partly those of the brain have nothing more to acquire, and all the powers of the individual, are concentrated upon the education of the judgment.

Hence it is manifest, that the first portion of the animal life, or that by means of which we are acted on from without, and reflect such action, has at each age a division, which is then particularly unfolded. The first age is that of the education of the senses, the second that of the enlargement of the imagination, the third that of the development of the judgment.

We should never then prescribe the study of the sciences, which exact the exercise of the judgment, at an age when the senses are especially in action; but follow in our artificial methods of education, the same laws which preside over the natural education of the organs. The child should be applied to music and design; the adolescent, to the sciences of nomenclature, and the belles lettres; the adult, to the exacter sciences, where facts are connected by a process of reasoning. The study of logic and the mathematics, terminated our ancient plan of education; it was one advantage at least among its numerous imperfections.

As to the second portion of the animal life, or that by means of which the animal reacts upon external bodies, the state of infancy is characterized by the number, the frequency, and feebleness of its motions; adult age by their vigour; and adolescence by a mixture of the two. The voice, however, does not appear to follow these proportions, but is subject to an influence which proceeds especially from the organs of generation.

I shall not dwell upon the different modifications, which with respect to the animal life are derived from sex, climate, and season. So many have treated of these questions, that it would be difficult to add to what has been said upon them.

In speaking of the laws of education, as they affect the organs of the external life, I have supposed these organs to be in a state of complete integrity, and possessed of whatever is necessary to their perfection.--If they be feeble or delicate, if any defect of conformation exist in them, these laws will only be applicable more or less; for it is manifest that the habit of judging will not rectify the judgment, if the brain be badly constituted; and that the frequent exercise of the larynx and voluntary muscles, will never make up for the irregularity of action occasioned by irregularity of conformation.

FOOTNOTES:

[41] It is unfortunate that Bichat makes use of the word density, as he seems to be ignorant of its true signification.

The resistance, which the womb offers to the fœtus that strikes against it, is wholly independent of density, and results only from the greater or less flexibility of its parietes. Cork is much less dense than mercury, and yet it offers to the finger, when pressed against it, a much greater resistance.

[42] Of these four sources of sensation, the first, whatever Bichat may say, exists in the fœtus before birth, and the other three, do not exist some hours after; the eye is insensible to light, the ear to sound, and the taste is not really in exercise when the first food creates in the organ an unaccustomed sensation.

[43] Philosophers and physiologists accord to the touch a great preeminence over the other senses. The senses of seeing, smelling and hearing are, say they, the sources of a thousand illusions. The touch alone is exempt from them, and even rectifies the errors which come from elsewhere; _the touch is the sense of reason_. It is undoubtedly a delightful prerogative; but let us see if it is incontestable. And first does the touch never deceive us? All children know an experiment which proves the contrary. If we cross two fingers of the same hand, and place in the angular space between their extremities a small body which touches both of them, the touch will give the sensation of two distinct bodies. It is then true that the touch may become a cause of errors; it no doubt serves to rectify those of the other senses, but do not these in their turn often defend us from the errors of the touch? If the sight were not almost constantly in exercise, the errors of touch would be much more numerous; we can judge of them by what we experience when we are in the dark. If we were to take from one man the use of his eyes, and from another that of his hands and the exercise of touch as much as possible, we should see which would be the most embarrassed, which would make the most false judgments.

[44] This assertion is not correct, and the voice, at the earliest age, has consonances peculiar, not only to the species, but even to the individual. The man accustomed to the very striking differences of the articulate sounds of speech or the distinct sounds of music, distinguishes with difficulty the differences in cries; but the animals to whom the cry is the habitual medium of expression are not deceived in the same way; the ewe, in the midst of a whole flock, distinguishes the voice of her lamb, and this soon learns to recognize the voice of its mother.

[45] The locomotive organs do not require a long education; as we see in animals whose organization, at the moment of birth, is no obstacle to motion. A young kid in an hour after, will stand on its legs, and before the end of the day we often see it skipping. The partridge runs as it comes out of the shell.

[46] The idea of classifying human occupations, according as they bring in play the organs of the senses, the intellect or locomotion, is a wild and useless one. This division besides is made in a way altogether defective, since in the first class it is the result of the occupations which put in play the organs, whatever may be the means of execution; in the second it is the occupation itself, whatever may be the results, and in the third, it is at the same time the execution and the result.

[47] We know that at a certain period of digestion the pulse rises and respiration is accelerated; we know it, I say, but we do not know the immediate causes of the phenomenon. Is it a reason, in fact, because a little chyle enters the lacteal vessels that the heart should accelerate the course of the blood in a system of vessels entirely distinct from these? Because afterwards this chyle, mixed in a small proportion with the venous blood, goes with it through the lungs, is it a reason that the motions of the lungs should be accelerated? Undoubtedly not; besides, the acceleration is not successive in these two functions, as Bichat seems to imply. The one is the necessary and immediate consequence of the other. But why does the action of the heart increase in this second period of digestion? We cannot tell; nor do we know why it diminishes in the first; for to think of explaining it by saying that the vital forces are then concentrated at the epigastric region, is a mere illusion; it is only changing the expression of the phenomenon, and clothing it in a hypothetical form.