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The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Prolongation of Life:
Optimistic Studies
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Title: The Prolongation of Life: Optimistic Studies
Author: Elie Metchnikoff
Editor: Sir P. Chalmers Mitchell
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Most recently updated: October 23, 2024
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE
PROLONGATION OF LIFE: OPTIMISTIC STUDIES ***
Optimistic Studies
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.
Title: The Prolongation of Life: Optimistic Studies
Author: Elie Metchnikoff
Editor: Sir P. Chalmers Mitchell
Release date: March 21, 2016 [eBook #51521]
Most recently updated: October 23, 2024
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51521
Credits: Produced by Turgut Dincer and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE
PROLONGATION OF LIFE: OPTIMISTIC STUDIES ***
Page 4
Transcriber’s Note:
The position of the footnote anchor 171 at page 229 is a guess of the transcriber as the
anchor was missing in the original book.
The book cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.
THE PROLONGATION OF LIFE
OPTIMISTIC STUDIES
BY
ÉLIE METCHNIKOFF
SUB-DIRECTOR OF THE PASTEUR INSTITUTE, PARIS
THE ENGLISH TRANSLATION
EDITED BY
P. CHALMERS MITCHELL
M.A., D.SC. OXON., HON. LL.D., F.R.S.
Secretary of the Zoological Society of London; Corresponding Member
of the Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia
G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS
NEW YORK & LONDON
The Knickerbocker Press
1908
The position of the footnote anchor 171 at page 229 is a guess of the transcriber as the
anchor was missing in the original book.
The book cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.
THE PROLONGATION OF LIFE
OPTIMISTIC STUDIES
BY
ÉLIE METCHNIKOFF
SUB-DIRECTOR OF THE PASTEUR INSTITUTE, PARIS
THE ENGLISH TRANSLATION
EDITED BY
P. CHALMERS MITCHELL
M.A., D.SC. OXON., HON. LL.D., F.R.S.
Secretary of the Zoological Society of London; Corresponding Member
of the Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia
G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS
NEW YORK & LONDON
The Knickerbocker Press
1908
Page 5
EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION
Élie Metchnikoff has carried on the high purpose of the Pasteur Institute by
devoting his genius for biological inquiry to the service of man. Some years
ago, in a series of Essays which were intended to be provocative and
educational, rather than expository, he described the direction towards
which he was pressing. I had the privilege of introducing these Essays to
English readers under the title The Nature of Man, a Study in Optimistic
Philosophy. In that volume, Professor Metchnikoff recounted how sentient
man, regarding his lot in the world, had found it evil. Philosophy and
literature, religion and folk-lore, in ancient and modern times have been
deeply tinged with pessimism. The source of these gloomy views lies in the
nature of man itself. Man has inherited a constitution from remote animal
ancestors, and every part of his structure, physical, mental and emotional, is
a complex legacy of diverse elements. Possibly at one time each quality had
its purpose as an adaptation to environment, but, as man, in the course of
his evolution, and the environment itself have changed, the old harmonious
intercourse between quality and circumstances has been dislocated in many
cases. And so there have come into existence many instances of what the
Professor calls “disharmony,” persistences of structures, or habits, or
desires that are no longer useful, but even harmful, failures of parallelism
between the growth, maturity and decay of physical and mental qualities
and so forth. Religions and philosophies alike have failed to find remedies
or efficient anodynes for these evils of existence, and, so far, man is
justified of his historical and actual pessimism.
Metchnikoff, however, was able to proclaim himself an optimist, and found,
in biological science, for the present generation a hope, or, at the least, an
end towards which to work, and for future generations a possible
achievement of that hope. Three chief evils that hang over us are disease,
old age, and death. Modern science has already made vast strides towards
the destruction of disease, and no one has more right to be listened to than a
leader of the Pasteur Institute when he asserts his confidence that rational
hygiene and preventive measures will ultimately rid mankind of disease.
The scientific investigation of old age shows that senility is nearly always
precocious and that its disabilities and miseries are for the most part due to
Élie Metchnikoff has carried on the high purpose of the Pasteur Institute by
devoting his genius for biological inquiry to the service of man. Some years
ago, in a series of Essays which were intended to be provocative and
educational, rather than expository, he described the direction towards
which he was pressing. I had the privilege of introducing these Essays to
English readers under the title The Nature of Man, a Study in Optimistic
Philosophy. In that volume, Professor Metchnikoff recounted how sentient
man, regarding his lot in the world, had found it evil. Philosophy and
literature, religion and folk-lore, in ancient and modern times have been
deeply tinged with pessimism. The source of these gloomy views lies in the
nature of man itself. Man has inherited a constitution from remote animal
ancestors, and every part of his structure, physical, mental and emotional, is
a complex legacy of diverse elements. Possibly at one time each quality had
its purpose as an adaptation to environment, but, as man, in the course of
his evolution, and the environment itself have changed, the old harmonious
intercourse between quality and circumstances has been dislocated in many
cases. And so there have come into existence many instances of what the
Professor calls “disharmony,” persistences of structures, or habits, or
desires that are no longer useful, but even harmful, failures of parallelism
between the growth, maturity and decay of physical and mental qualities
and so forth. Religions and philosophies alike have failed to find remedies
or efficient anodynes for these evils of existence, and, so far, man is
justified of his historical and actual pessimism.
Metchnikoff, however, was able to proclaim himself an optimist, and found,
in biological science, for the present generation a hope, or, at the least, an
end towards which to work, and for future generations a possible
achievement of that hope. Three chief evils that hang over us are disease,
old age, and death. Modern science has already made vast strides towards
the destruction of disease, and no one has more right to be listened to than a
leader of the Pasteur Institute when he asserts his confidence that rational
hygiene and preventive measures will ultimately rid mankind of disease.
The scientific investigation of old age shows that senility is nearly always
precocious and that its disabilities and miseries are for the most part due to
Page 6
preventable causes. Metchnikoff showed years ago that there exists in the
human body a number of cells known generally as phagocytes, the chief
function of which is to devour intruding microbes. But these guardians of
the body may turn into its deadly enemies by destroying and replacing the
higher elements, the specific cells of the different tissues. The physical
mechanism of senility appears to be in large measure the result of this
process. Certain substances, notably the poisons of such diseases as syphilis
and the products of intestinal putrefaction, stimulate the activity of the
phagocytes and so encourage their encroachment on the higher tissues. The
first business of science is to remove these handicaps in favour of the
wandering, corroding phagocytes. Specific poisons must be dealt with
separately, by prevention or treatment, and it is well known that
Metchnikoff has made great advances in that direction. The most striking
practical side of The Nature of Man, however, was the discussion of the
cause and prevention of intestinal putrefaction. Metchnikoff believes that
the inherited structure of the human large intestine and the customary diet
of civilised man are specially favourable to the multiplication of a large
number of microbes that cause putrefaction. The avoidance of alcohol and
the rigid exclusion from diet of foods that favour putrefaction, such as rich
meats, and of raw or badly cooked substances containing microbes, do
much to remedy the evils. But the special introduction of the microbes
which cause lactic fermentation has the effect of inhibiting putrefaction. By
such measures Metchnikoff believes that life will be greatly prolonged and
that the chief evils of senility will be avoided. It may take many generations
before the final result is attained, but, in the meantime, great amelioration is
possible. There remains the last enemy, death. Metchnikoff shows that in
the vast majority of cases death is not “natural,” but comes from accidental
and preventable causes. When diseases have been suppressed and the
course of life regulated by scientific hygiene, it is probable that death would
come only at an extreme old age. Metchnikoff thinks that there is evidence
enough at least to suggest that when death comes in its natural place at the
end of the normal cycle of life, it would be robbed of its terrors and be
accepted as gratefully as any other part of the cycle of life. He thinks, in
fact, that the instinct of life would be replaced by an instinct of death.
Metchnikoff’s suggestion, then, was that science should be encouraged and
helped in every possible way in its task of removing the diseases and habits
that now prevent human life from running its normal course, and his belief
human body a number of cells known generally as phagocytes, the chief
function of which is to devour intruding microbes. But these guardians of
the body may turn into its deadly enemies by destroying and replacing the
higher elements, the specific cells of the different tissues. The physical
mechanism of senility appears to be in large measure the result of this
process. Certain substances, notably the poisons of such diseases as syphilis
and the products of intestinal putrefaction, stimulate the activity of the
phagocytes and so encourage their encroachment on the higher tissues. The
first business of science is to remove these handicaps in favour of the
wandering, corroding phagocytes. Specific poisons must be dealt with
separately, by prevention or treatment, and it is well known that
Metchnikoff has made great advances in that direction. The most striking
practical side of The Nature of Man, however, was the discussion of the
cause and prevention of intestinal putrefaction. Metchnikoff believes that
the inherited structure of the human large intestine and the customary diet
of civilised man are specially favourable to the multiplication of a large
number of microbes that cause putrefaction. The avoidance of alcohol and
the rigid exclusion from diet of foods that favour putrefaction, such as rich
meats, and of raw or badly cooked substances containing microbes, do
much to remedy the evils. But the special introduction of the microbes
which cause lactic fermentation has the effect of inhibiting putrefaction. By
such measures Metchnikoff believes that life will be greatly prolonged and
that the chief evils of senility will be avoided. It may take many generations
before the final result is attained, but, in the meantime, great amelioration is
possible. There remains the last enemy, death. Metchnikoff shows that in
the vast majority of cases death is not “natural,” but comes from accidental
and preventable causes. When diseases have been suppressed and the
course of life regulated by scientific hygiene, it is probable that death would
come only at an extreme old age. Metchnikoff thinks that there is evidence
enough at least to suggest that when death comes in its natural place at the
end of the normal cycle of life, it would be robbed of its terrors and be
accepted as gratefully as any other part of the cycle of life. He thinks, in
fact, that the instinct of life would be replaced by an instinct of death.
Metchnikoff’s suggestion, then, was that science should be encouraged and
helped in every possible way in its task of removing the diseases and habits
that now prevent human life from running its normal course, and his belief
Page 7
is that were the task accomplished, the great causes of pessimism would
disappear.
In this new volume, The Prolongation of Life, the main thesis is carried
further, and a number of criticisms and objections are met. The latter, so far
as they relate to technical details, I need say nothing of here, as Metchnikoff
and his staff at the Pasteur Institute are the most skilled existing technical
experts on these matters, but I cannot refrain from a word of comment on
the brilliant treatment of the objection to the suggested amelioration of
human life that it considered only the individual and neglected the just
subordination of the individual to society. In the sixth Part of this volume,
Metchnikoff discusses the relation of the individual to the species, society
or colony, from the general point of view of comparative biology, and
shows that as organisation progresses, the integrity of the individual
becomes increasingly important. Were orthobiosis, the normal cycle of life,
attained by human beings, there still would be room for specialisation of
individuals and for differentiation of the functions of individuals in society,
but instead of the specialisation and differentiation making individuals
incomplete throughout their whole lives, they would be distributed over the
different periods of the life of each individual.
As these lines are intended to be an introduction, not a commentary, I will
now leave the reader to follow the argument in the book itself.
P. Chalmers Mitchell.
London, August, 1907.
disappear.
In this new volume, The Prolongation of Life, the main thesis is carried
further, and a number of criticisms and objections are met. The latter, so far
as they relate to technical details, I need say nothing of here, as Metchnikoff
and his staff at the Pasteur Institute are the most skilled existing technical
experts on these matters, but I cannot refrain from a word of comment on
the brilliant treatment of the objection to the suggested amelioration of
human life that it considered only the individual and neglected the just
subordination of the individual to society. In the sixth Part of this volume,
Metchnikoff discusses the relation of the individual to the species, society
or colony, from the general point of view of comparative biology, and
shows that as organisation progresses, the integrity of the individual
becomes increasingly important. Were orthobiosis, the normal cycle of life,
attained by human beings, there still would be room for specialisation of
individuals and for differentiation of the functions of individuals in society,
but instead of the specialisation and differentiation making individuals
incomplete throughout their whole lives, they would be distributed over the
different periods of the life of each individual.
As these lines are intended to be an introduction, not a commentary, I will
now leave the reader to follow the argument in the book itself.
P. Chalmers Mitchell.
London, August, 1907.
Page 8
PREFACE
It is now four years since I wrote a volume, the English translation of
which was called The Nature of Man, and which was an attempt to frame an
optimistic conception of life. Human nature contains many very complex
elements, due to its animal ancestry, and amongst these there are some
disharmonies to which our misfortunes are due, but also elements which
afford the promise of a happier human life.
My views have encountered many objections, and I wish to reply to some
of these by developing my arguments. This was my first task in this book,
but I have also brought together a series of studies on problems which
closely affect my theory.
Although it has been possible to support my conception by new facts, some
of which have been established by my fellow-workers, others by myself,
there still remain many sides of the subject where it is necessary to fall back
on hypotheses. I have accepted such imperfections instead of delaying the
publication of my book.
Even at present there are critics who regard me as incapable of sane and
logical reasoning. The longer I postpone publication, the longer would I
leave the field open to such persons. What I have been saying may serve
also as a reply to the remark of one of my critics, that my ideas have been
“suggested by self-preoccupation.”
It is, of course, quite natural that a biologist whose attention had been
aroused by noticing in his own case the phenomena of precocious old age
should turn to study the causes of it. But it is equally plain that such a study
could give no hope of resisting the decay of an organism which had already
for many years been growing old. If the ideas which have come out of my
work bring about some modification in the onset of old age, the advantage
can be gained only by those who are still young, and who will be at the
pains to follow the new knowledge. This volume, in fact, like my earlier
one on the “Nature of Man,” is directed much more to the new generation
than to that which has already been subjected to the influence of the factors
which produce precocious old age. I think that thus the experience of those
who have lived and worked for long can be made of service to others.
It is now four years since I wrote a volume, the English translation of
which was called The Nature of Man, and which was an attempt to frame an
optimistic conception of life. Human nature contains many very complex
elements, due to its animal ancestry, and amongst these there are some
disharmonies to which our misfortunes are due, but also elements which
afford the promise of a happier human life.
My views have encountered many objections, and I wish to reply to some
of these by developing my arguments. This was my first task in this book,
but I have also brought together a series of studies on problems which
closely affect my theory.
Although it has been possible to support my conception by new facts, some
of which have been established by my fellow-workers, others by myself,
there still remain many sides of the subject where it is necessary to fall back
on hypotheses. I have accepted such imperfections instead of delaying the
publication of my book.
Even at present there are critics who regard me as incapable of sane and
logical reasoning. The longer I postpone publication, the longer would I
leave the field open to such persons. What I have been saying may serve
also as a reply to the remark of one of my critics, that my ideas have been
“suggested by self-preoccupation.”
It is, of course, quite natural that a biologist whose attention had been
aroused by noticing in his own case the phenomena of precocious old age
should turn to study the causes of it. But it is equally plain that such a study
could give no hope of resisting the decay of an organism which had already
for many years been growing old. If the ideas which have come out of my
work bring about some modification in the onset of old age, the advantage
can be gained only by those who are still young, and who will be at the
pains to follow the new knowledge. This volume, in fact, like my earlier
one on the “Nature of Man,” is directed much more to the new generation
than to that which has already been subjected to the influence of the factors
which produce precocious old age. I think that thus the experience of those
who have lived and worked for long can be made of service to others.
Page 9
As this volume is a sequel to The Nature of Man, I have tried as much as
possible to avoid repetition of what was fully explained in the earlier
volume.
Here I bring together the results of work that has been done since the
publication of The Nature of Man. Some of the chapters relate to subjects
upon which I have lectured, or which, in a different form, have been printed
before. For instance, the section on the psychic rudiments of man appeared
in the Bulletin de l’Institut général psychologique of 1904, the essay on
Animal Societies was published in the Revue Philomatique de Bordeaux et
du Sud-Ouest of 1904, and in the Revue of J. Finot of the same year, whilst
a German translation of it appeared in Prof. Ostwald’s Annalen der
Naturphilosophie. The chapter on soured milk first appeared as a pamphlet,
published in 1905. The substance of my views on natural death was
published in June last in “Harper’s Monthly Magazine” of New York, while
the chapter on natural death in animals appeared in the first number of the
Revue du Mois for 1906.
I have to thank most sincerely the friends and pupils who have helped me
by bringing before me new facts, or other materials; the names of these will
appear in their proper places in the volume. I have not mentioned by name,
however, Dr. J. Goldschmidt, whose continual encouragement and practical
sympathy have made my work much easier.
Finally, my special thanks are due to Drs. Em. Roux and Burnet, and M.
Mesnil, who have been so good as to correct my manuscript and the proofs
of this volume.
É. M.
Paris, Feb. 7, 1907.
possible to avoid repetition of what was fully explained in the earlier
volume.
Here I bring together the results of work that has been done since the
publication of The Nature of Man. Some of the chapters relate to subjects
upon which I have lectured, or which, in a different form, have been printed
before. For instance, the section on the psychic rudiments of man appeared
in the Bulletin de l’Institut général psychologique of 1904, the essay on
Animal Societies was published in the Revue Philomatique de Bordeaux et
du Sud-Ouest of 1904, and in the Revue of J. Finot of the same year, whilst
a German translation of it appeared in Prof. Ostwald’s Annalen der
Naturphilosophie. The chapter on soured milk first appeared as a pamphlet,
published in 1905. The substance of my views on natural death was
published in June last in “Harper’s Monthly Magazine” of New York, while
the chapter on natural death in animals appeared in the first number of the
Revue du Mois for 1906.
I have to thank most sincerely the friends and pupils who have helped me
by bringing before me new facts, or other materials; the names of these will
appear in their proper places in the volume. I have not mentioned by name,
however, Dr. J. Goldschmidt, whose continual encouragement and practical
sympathy have made my work much easier.
Finally, my special thanks are due to Drs. Em. Roux and Burnet, and M.
Mesnil, who have been so good as to correct my manuscript and the proofs
of this volume.
É. M.
Paris, Feb. 7, 1907.
Page 10
CONTENTS
PAGE
EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION v
PREFACE ix
PART I
THE INVESTIGATION OF OLD AGE
I
THE PROBLEMS OF SENILITY
Treatment of old people in uncivilised countries.—Assassination of old people in civilised
countries.—Suicide of old people.—Public assistance in old age.—Centenarians.—
Mme. Robineau, a lady of 106 years of age.—Principal characters of old age.—
Examples of old mammals.—Old birds and tortoises.—Hypothesis of senile
degeneration in the lower animals 1
II
THEORIES OF THE CAUSATION OF SENILITY
Hypothesis of the causation of senility.—Senility cannot be attributed to the cessation of the
power of reproduction of the cells of the body.—Growth of the hair and the nails in old
age.—Inner mechanism of the senescence of the tissues.—Notwithstanding the
criticisms of M. Marinesco, the neuronophags are true phagocytes.—The whitening of
hair, and the destruction of nerve cells as arguments against a theory of old age based on
the failure of the reproductive powers of the cells 15
III
MECHANISM OF SENILITY
Action of the macrophags in destroying the higher cells.—Senile degeneration of the
muscular fibres.—Atrophy of the xiv skeleton.—Atheroma and arterial sclerosis.—
Theory that Old Age is due to alteration in the vascular glands.—Organic tissues that
resist phagocytosis. 25
PART II
LONGEVITY IN THE ANIMAL KINGDOM
I
THEORIES OF LONGEVITY
Relation between longevity and size.—Longevity and the period of growth.—Longevity and
the doubling in weight after birth.—Longevity and rate of reproduction.—Probable
relations between longevity and the nature of the food 39
II
LONGEVITY IN THE ANIMAL KINGDOM
Longevity in the lower animals.—Instances of long life in sea-anemones and other 47
vertebrates.—Duration of life of insects.—Duration of life of “cold-blooded”
PAGE
EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION v
PREFACE ix
PART I
THE INVESTIGATION OF OLD AGE
I
THE PROBLEMS OF SENILITY
Treatment of old people in uncivilised countries.—Assassination of old people in civilised
countries.—Suicide of old people.—Public assistance in old age.—Centenarians.—
Mme. Robineau, a lady of 106 years of age.—Principal characters of old age.—
Examples of old mammals.—Old birds and tortoises.—Hypothesis of senile
degeneration in the lower animals 1
II
THEORIES OF THE CAUSATION OF SENILITY
Hypothesis of the causation of senility.—Senility cannot be attributed to the cessation of the
power of reproduction of the cells of the body.—Growth of the hair and the nails in old
age.—Inner mechanism of the senescence of the tissues.—Notwithstanding the
criticisms of M. Marinesco, the neuronophags are true phagocytes.—The whitening of
hair, and the destruction of nerve cells as arguments against a theory of old age based on
the failure of the reproductive powers of the cells 15
III
MECHANISM OF SENILITY
Action of the macrophags in destroying the higher cells.—Senile degeneration of the
muscular fibres.—Atrophy of the xiv skeleton.—Atheroma and arterial sclerosis.—
Theory that Old Age is due to alteration in the vascular glands.—Organic tissues that
resist phagocytosis. 25
PART II
LONGEVITY IN THE ANIMAL KINGDOM
I
THEORIES OF LONGEVITY
Relation between longevity and size.—Longevity and the period of growth.—Longevity and
the doubling in weight after birth.—Longevity and rate of reproduction.—Probable
relations between longevity and the nature of the food 39
II
LONGEVITY IN THE ANIMAL KINGDOM
Longevity in the lower animals.—Instances of long life in sea-anemones and other 47
vertebrates.—Duration of life of insects.—Duration of life of “cold-blooded”
Page 11
vertebrates.—Duration of life of birds.—Duration of life of mammals.—Inequality of
the duration of life in males and females.—Relations between longevity and fertility of
the organism
III
THE DIGESTIVE SYSTEM AND SENILITY
Relations between longevity and the structure of the digestive system.—The cæca in birds.—
The large intestine of mammals.—Function of the large intestine.—The intestinal
microbes and their agency in producing auto-intoxication and auto-infection in the
organism.—Passage of microbes through the intestinal wall 59
IV
MICROBES AS THE CAUSE OF SENILITY
Relations between longevity and the intestinal flora.—Ruminants.—The horse.—Intestinal
flora of birds.—Intestinal flora of cursorial birds.—Duration of life in cursorial birds.—
Flying mammals.—Intestinal flora and longevity of bats.—Some exceptions to the rule.
—Resistance of the lower vertebrates to certain intestinal microbes 73
Vxv
DURATION OF HUMAN LIFE
Longevity of man.—Theory of Ebstein on the normal duration of human life.—Instances of
human longevity.—Circumstances which may explain the long duration of human life 84
PART III
INVESTIGATIONS ON NATURAL DEATH
I
NATURAL DEATH AMONGST PLANTS
Theory of the immortality of unicellular organisms.—Examples of very old trees.—Examples
of short-lived plants.—Prolongation of the life of some plants.—Theory of the natural
death of plants by exhaustion.—Death of plants from auto-intoxication 94
II
NATURAL DEATH IN THE ANIMAL WORLD
Different origins of death in animals.—Examples of natural death associated with violent
acts.—Examples of natural death in animals without digestive organs.—Natural death in
the two sexes.—Hypothesis as to the cause of natural death in animals 109
III
NATURAL DEATH AMONGST HUMAN BEINGS
Natural death in the aged.—Analogy of natural death and sleep.—Theories of sleep.—
Ponogenes.—The instinct of sleep.—The instinct of natural death.—Replies to critics.—
Agreeable sensation at the approach of death 119
PART IV
SHOULD WE TRY TO PROLONG HUMAN LIFE?
I
THE BENEFIT TO HUMANITY
Complaints of the shortness of our life.—Theory of “medical selection” as a cause of
degeneration of the race.—Utility of prolonging human life 132
the duration of life in males and females.—Relations between longevity and fertility of
the organism
III
THE DIGESTIVE SYSTEM AND SENILITY
Relations between longevity and the structure of the digestive system.—The cæca in birds.—
The large intestine of mammals.—Function of the large intestine.—The intestinal
microbes and their agency in producing auto-intoxication and auto-infection in the
organism.—Passage of microbes through the intestinal wall 59
IV
MICROBES AS THE CAUSE OF SENILITY
Relations between longevity and the intestinal flora.—Ruminants.—The horse.—Intestinal
flora of birds.—Intestinal flora of cursorial birds.—Duration of life in cursorial birds.—
Flying mammals.—Intestinal flora and longevity of bats.—Some exceptions to the rule.
—Resistance of the lower vertebrates to certain intestinal microbes 73
Vxv
DURATION OF HUMAN LIFE
Longevity of man.—Theory of Ebstein on the normal duration of human life.—Instances of
human longevity.—Circumstances which may explain the long duration of human life 84
PART III
INVESTIGATIONS ON NATURAL DEATH
I
NATURAL DEATH AMONGST PLANTS
Theory of the immortality of unicellular organisms.—Examples of very old trees.—Examples
of short-lived plants.—Prolongation of the life of some plants.—Theory of the natural
death of plants by exhaustion.—Death of plants from auto-intoxication 94
II
NATURAL DEATH IN THE ANIMAL WORLD
Different origins of death in animals.—Examples of natural death associated with violent
acts.—Examples of natural death in animals without digestive organs.—Natural death in
the two sexes.—Hypothesis as to the cause of natural death in animals 109
III
NATURAL DEATH AMONGST HUMAN BEINGS
Natural death in the aged.—Analogy of natural death and sleep.—Theories of sleep.—
Ponogenes.—The instinct of sleep.—The instinct of natural death.—Replies to critics.—
Agreeable sensation at the approach of death 119
PART IV
SHOULD WE TRY TO PROLONG HUMAN LIFE?
I
THE BENEFIT TO HUMANITY
Complaints of the shortness of our life.—Theory of “medical selection” as a cause of
degeneration of the race.—Utility of prolonging human life 132
Page 12
IIxvi
SUGGESTIONS FOR THE PROLONGATION OF LIFE
Ancient methods of prolonging human life.—Gerokomy.—The “immortality draught” of the
Taoists.—Brown-Séquard’s method.—The spermine of Poehl.—Dr. Weber’s precepts.—
Increased duration of life in historical times.—Hygienic maxims.—Decrease in
cutaneous cancer 136
III
DISEASES THAT SHORTEN LIFE
Measures against infectious diseases as aiding in the prolongation of life.—Prevention of
syphilis.—Attempts to prepare serums which could strengthen the higher elements of
the organism 145
IV
INTESTINAL PUTREFACTION SHORTENS LIFE
Uselessness of the large intestine in man.—Case of a woman whose large intestine was
inactive for six months.—Another case where the greater part of the large intestine was
completely shut off.—Attempts to disinfect the contents of the large intestine.—
Prolonged mastication as a means of preventing intestinal putrefaction 151
V
LACTIC ACID AS INHIBITING INTESTINAL PUTREFACTION
The development of the intestinal flora in man.—Harmlessness of sterilised food.—Means of
preventing the putrefaction of food.—Lactic fermentation and its anti-putrescent action.
—Experiments on man and mice.—Longevity in races which used soured milk.—
Comparative study of different soured milks.—Properties of the Bulgarian Bacillus.—
Means of preventing intestinal putrefaction with the help of microbes 161
PART V
PSYCHICAL RUDIMENTS IN MAN
I
RUDIMENTARY ORGANS IN MAN
Reply to critics who deny the simian origin of man.—Actual xviiexistence of rudimentary
organs.—Reductions in the structure of the organs of sense in man.—Atrophy of
Jacobson’s organ and of the Harderian gland in the human race 184
II
HUMAN TRAITS OF CHARACTER INHERITED FROM APES
The mental character of anthropoid apes.—Their muscular strength.—Their expression of
fear.—The awakening of latent instincts of man under the influence of fear 191
III
SOMNAMBULISM AND HYSTERIA AS MENTAL RELICS
Fear as the primary cause of hysteria.—Natural somnambulism.—Doubling of personality.—
Some examples of somnambulists.—Analogy between somnambulism and the life of
anthropoid apes.—The psychology of crowds.—Importance of the investigation of
hysteria for the problem of the origin of man 200
PART VI
SUGGESTIONS FOR THE PROLONGATION OF LIFE
Ancient methods of prolonging human life.—Gerokomy.—The “immortality draught” of the
Taoists.—Brown-Séquard’s method.—The spermine of Poehl.—Dr. Weber’s precepts.—
Increased duration of life in historical times.—Hygienic maxims.—Decrease in
cutaneous cancer 136
III
DISEASES THAT SHORTEN LIFE
Measures against infectious diseases as aiding in the prolongation of life.—Prevention of
syphilis.—Attempts to prepare serums which could strengthen the higher elements of
the organism 145
IV
INTESTINAL PUTREFACTION SHORTENS LIFE
Uselessness of the large intestine in man.—Case of a woman whose large intestine was
inactive for six months.—Another case where the greater part of the large intestine was
completely shut off.—Attempts to disinfect the contents of the large intestine.—
Prolonged mastication as a means of preventing intestinal putrefaction 151
V
LACTIC ACID AS INHIBITING INTESTINAL PUTREFACTION
The development of the intestinal flora in man.—Harmlessness of sterilised food.—Means of
preventing the putrefaction of food.—Lactic fermentation and its anti-putrescent action.
—Experiments on man and mice.—Longevity in races which used soured milk.—
Comparative study of different soured milks.—Properties of the Bulgarian Bacillus.—
Means of preventing intestinal putrefaction with the help of microbes 161
PART V
PSYCHICAL RUDIMENTS IN MAN
I
RUDIMENTARY ORGANS IN MAN
Reply to critics who deny the simian origin of man.—Actual xviiexistence of rudimentary
organs.—Reductions in the structure of the organs of sense in man.—Atrophy of
Jacobson’s organ and of the Harderian gland in the human race 184
II
HUMAN TRAITS OF CHARACTER INHERITED FROM APES
The mental character of anthropoid apes.—Their muscular strength.—Their expression of
fear.—The awakening of latent instincts of man under the influence of fear 191
III
SOMNAMBULISM AND HYSTERIA AS MENTAL RELICS
Fear as the primary cause of hysteria.—Natural somnambulism.—Doubling of personality.—
Some examples of somnambulists.—Analogy between somnambulism and the life of
anthropoid apes.—The psychology of crowds.—Importance of the investigation of
hysteria for the problem of the origin of man 200
PART VI
Page 13
SOME POINTS IN THE HISTORY OF SOCIAL ANIMALS
I
THE INDIVIDUAL AND THE RACE
Problem of the species in the human race.—Loss of individuality in the associations of lower
animals.—Myxomycetes and Siphonophora.—Individuality in Ascidians.—Progress in
the development of the individual living in a society 212
II
INSECT SOCIETIES
Social life of insects.—Development and preservation of individuality in colonies of insects.
—Division of labour and sacrifice of individuality in some insects 220
III
SOCIETY AND THE INDIVIDUAL IN THE HUMAN RACE
Human societies.—Differentiation in the human race.—Learned women.—Habits of a bee,
Halictus quadricinctus.—Collectivist theories.—Criticisms by Herbert Spencer and xviii
Nietzsche.—Progress of individuality in the societies of higher beings 223
PART VII
PESSIMISM AND OPTIMISM
I
PREVALENCE OF PESSIMISM
Oriental origin of pessimism.—Pessimistic poets.—Byron.—Leopardi.—Poushkin.—
Lermontoff.—Pessimism and suicide 233
II
ANALYSIS OF PESSIMISM
Attempts to assign reasons for the pessimistic conception of life.—Views of E. von
Hartmann.—Analysis of Kowalevsky’s work on the psychology of pessimism 239
III
PESSIMISM IN ITS RELATION TO HEALTH AND AGE
Relation between pessimism and the state of the health.—History of a man of science who
was pessimistic when young and who became an optimist in old age.—Optimism of
Schopenhauer when old.—Development of the sense of life.—Development of the
senses in blind people.—The sense of obstacles 247
PART VIII
GOETHE AND FAUST
I
GOETHE’S YOUTH
Goethe’s youth.—Pessimism of youth.—Werther.—Tendency to suicide.—Work and love.—
Goethe’s conception of life in his maturity 261
II
GOETHE AND OPTIMISM
Goethe’s optimistic period.—His mode of life in that period.—Influence of love in artistic 270
production.—Inclinations xixtowards the arts must be regarded as secondary sexual
I
THE INDIVIDUAL AND THE RACE
Problem of the species in the human race.—Loss of individuality in the associations of lower
animals.—Myxomycetes and Siphonophora.—Individuality in Ascidians.—Progress in
the development of the individual living in a society 212
II
INSECT SOCIETIES
Social life of insects.—Development and preservation of individuality in colonies of insects.
—Division of labour and sacrifice of individuality in some insects 220
III
SOCIETY AND THE INDIVIDUAL IN THE HUMAN RACE
Human societies.—Differentiation in the human race.—Learned women.—Habits of a bee,
Halictus quadricinctus.—Collectivist theories.—Criticisms by Herbert Spencer and xviii
Nietzsche.—Progress of individuality in the societies of higher beings 223
PART VII
PESSIMISM AND OPTIMISM
I
PREVALENCE OF PESSIMISM
Oriental origin of pessimism.—Pessimistic poets.—Byron.—Leopardi.—Poushkin.—
Lermontoff.—Pessimism and suicide 233
II
ANALYSIS OF PESSIMISM
Attempts to assign reasons for the pessimistic conception of life.—Views of E. von
Hartmann.—Analysis of Kowalevsky’s work on the psychology of pessimism 239
III
PESSIMISM IN ITS RELATION TO HEALTH AND AGE
Relation between pessimism and the state of the health.—History of a man of science who
was pessimistic when young and who became an optimist in old age.—Optimism of
Schopenhauer when old.—Development of the sense of life.—Development of the
senses in blind people.—The sense of obstacles 247
PART VIII
GOETHE AND FAUST
I
GOETHE’S YOUTH
Goethe’s youth.—Pessimism of youth.—Werther.—Tendency to suicide.—Work and love.—
Goethe’s conception of life in his maturity 261
II
GOETHE AND OPTIMISM
Goethe’s optimistic period.—His mode of life in that period.—Influence of love in artistic 270
production.—Inclinations xixtowards the arts must be regarded as secondary sexual
Page 14
characters.—Senile love of Goethe.—Relation between genius and the sexual activities
III
GOETHE’S OLD AGE
Old age of Goethe.—Physical and intellectual vigour of the old man.—Optimistic conception
of life.—Happiness in life in his last period 279
IV
GOETHE AND “FAUST”
Faust the biography of Goethe.—The three monologues in the first Part.—Faust’s pessimism.
—The brain-fatigue which finds a remedy in love.—The romance with Marguerite and
its unhappy ending 283
V
THE OLD AGE OF FAUST
The second Part of Faust is in the main a description of senile love.—Amorous passion of the
old man.—Humble attitude of the old Faust.—Platonic love for Helena.—The old
Faust’s conception of life.—His optimism.—The general idea of the play 290
PART IX
SCIENCE AND MORALITY
I
UTILITARIAN AND INTUITIVE MORALITY
Difficulty of the problem of morality.—Vivisection and anti-vivisection.—Enquiry into the
possibility of rational morality.—Utilitarian and intuitive theories of morality.—
Insufficiency of these 301
II
MORALITY AND HUMAN NATURE
Attempts to found morality on the laws of human nature.—Kant’s theory of moral obligation.
—Some criticisms of the Kantian theory.—Moral conduct must be guided by reason 309
IIIxx
INDIVIDUALISM
Individual morality.—History of two brothers brought up in the same circumstances, but
whose conduct was quite different.—Late development of the sense of life.—Evolution
of sympathy.—The sphere of egoism in moral conduct.—Christian morality.—Morality
of Herbert Spencer.—Danger of exalted altruism 316
IV
ORTHOBIOSIS
Human nature must be modified according to an ideal.—Comparison with the modification
of the constitution of plants and of animals.—Schlanstedt rye.—Burbank’s plants.—The
ideal of orthobiosis.—The immorality of ignorance.—The place of hygiene in the social
life.—The place of altruism in moral conduct.—The freedom of the theory of
orthobiosis from metaphysics 325
III
GOETHE’S OLD AGE
Old age of Goethe.—Physical and intellectual vigour of the old man.—Optimistic conception
of life.—Happiness in life in his last period 279
IV
GOETHE AND “FAUST”
Faust the biography of Goethe.—The three monologues in the first Part.—Faust’s pessimism.
—The brain-fatigue which finds a remedy in love.—The romance with Marguerite and
its unhappy ending 283
V
THE OLD AGE OF FAUST
The second Part of Faust is in the main a description of senile love.—Amorous passion of the
old man.—Humble attitude of the old Faust.—Platonic love for Helena.—The old
Faust’s conception of life.—His optimism.—The general idea of the play 290
PART IX
SCIENCE AND MORALITY
I
UTILITARIAN AND INTUITIVE MORALITY
Difficulty of the problem of morality.—Vivisection and anti-vivisection.—Enquiry into the
possibility of rational morality.—Utilitarian and intuitive theories of morality.—
Insufficiency of these 301
II
MORALITY AND HUMAN NATURE
Attempts to found morality on the laws of human nature.—Kant’s theory of moral obligation.
—Some criticisms of the Kantian theory.—Moral conduct must be guided by reason 309
IIIxx
INDIVIDUALISM
Individual morality.—History of two brothers brought up in the same circumstances, but
whose conduct was quite different.—Late development of the sense of life.—Evolution
of sympathy.—The sphere of egoism in moral conduct.—Christian morality.—Morality
of Herbert Spencer.—Danger of exalted altruism 316
IV
ORTHOBIOSIS
Human nature must be modified according to an ideal.—Comparison with the modification
of the constitution of plants and of animals.—Schlanstedt rye.—Burbank’s plants.—The
ideal of orthobiosis.—The immorality of ignorance.—The place of hygiene in the social
life.—The place of altruism in moral conduct.—The freedom of the theory of
orthobiosis from metaphysics 325
Page 15
THE PROLONGATION OF LIFE
Page 16
PART I
THE INVESTIGATION OF OLD AGE
I
THE PROBLEMS OF SENILITY
Treatment of old people in uncivilised countries—Assassination of old people in civilised
countries—Suicide of old people—Public assistance in old age—Centenarians—Mme.
Robineau, a lady of 106 years of age—Principal characters of old age—Examples of old
mammals—Old birds and tortoises—Hypothesis of senile degeneration in the lower
animals
In the “Nature of Man” I laid down the outlines of a theory of the actual
changes which take place during the senescence of our body. These ideas,
on the one hand, have raised certain difficulties, and, on the other, have led
to new investigations. As the study of old age is of great theoretical
importance, and naturally is of practical value, I think that it is useful to
pursue the subject still further.
Although there exist races which solve the difficulty of old age by the
simple means of destroying aged people, the problem in civilised countries
is complicated by our more refined feelings and by considerations of a
general nature.
In the Melanesian Islands, old people who have become incapable of doing
useful work are buried alive.
In times of famine, the natives of Tierra del Fuego kill and eat the old
women before they touch their dogs. When they were asked why they did
this, they said that dogs could catch seals, whilst old women could not do
so.
Civilised races do not act like the Fuegians or other savages; they neither
kill nor eat the aged, but none the less life in old age often becomes very
sad. As they are incapable of performing any useful function in the family
or in the village, the old people are regarded as a heavy burden. Although
they cannot be got rid of, their death is awaited with eagerness, and is never
THE INVESTIGATION OF OLD AGE
I
THE PROBLEMS OF SENILITY
Treatment of old people in uncivilised countries—Assassination of old people in civilised
countries—Suicide of old people—Public assistance in old age—Centenarians—Mme.
Robineau, a lady of 106 years of age—Principal characters of old age—Examples of old
mammals—Old birds and tortoises—Hypothesis of senile degeneration in the lower
animals
In the “Nature of Man” I laid down the outlines of a theory of the actual
changes which take place during the senescence of our body. These ideas,
on the one hand, have raised certain difficulties, and, on the other, have led
to new investigations. As the study of old age is of great theoretical
importance, and naturally is of practical value, I think that it is useful to
pursue the subject still further.
Although there exist races which solve the difficulty of old age by the
simple means of destroying aged people, the problem in civilised countries
is complicated by our more refined feelings and by considerations of a
general nature.
In the Melanesian Islands, old people who have become incapable of doing
useful work are buried alive.
In times of famine, the natives of Tierra del Fuego kill and eat the old
women before they touch their dogs. When they were asked why they did
this, they said that dogs could catch seals, whilst old women could not do
so.
Civilised races do not act like the Fuegians or other savages; they neither
kill nor eat the aged, but none the less life in old age often becomes very
sad. As they are incapable of performing any useful function in the family
or in the village, the old people are regarded as a heavy burden. Although
they cannot be got rid of, their death is awaited with eagerness, and is never
Page 17
thought to come soon enough. The Italians say that old women have seven
lives. According to a Bergamask tradition, old women have seven souls, and
after that an eighth soul, quite a little one, and after that again half a soul;
whilst the Lithuanians complain that the life of an old woman is so tough
that it cannot be crushed even in a mill. We may take it as an echo of such
popular ideas that murders of old people are extremely common even in the
most civilised European countries. I have been astonished in looking
through criminal records to see how many cases there are of the murder of
old people, specially of old women. It is easy to divine the motives of these
acts. A convict of the Island of Saghalien, condemned for the assassination
of several old persons, declared naïvely to the prison doctor: “Why pity
them? They were already old, and would have died in any case in a few
years.”
In the celebrated novel of Dostoiewsky, “Crime and Punishment,” there is a
tavern scene where young people discuss all sorts of general topics. In the
middle of the conversation a student declares that he would “murder and
rob any cursed old woman without the least remorse.” “If the truth were
told,” he goes on to say, “this is how I look at the thing. On the one hand a
stupid old woman, childish, worthless, ill-tempered, and in bad health; no
one would miss her, indeed she is a nuisance to everyone. She does not
even herself know any reason why she should live, and perhaps to-morrow
death will make a good riddance of her. On the other hand, there are fresh
and vigorous young people who are dying in their thousands, in the most
senseless way, no one troubling about them, and everywhere the same thing
is going on.”
Old people not only run the risk of murder; they very often end their own
lives prematurely by suicide.
They prefer death to a life oppressed by material hardships or burdened by
diseases. The daily papers give many instances of old people who, tired of
suffering, asphyxiate themselves by their charcoal stoves.
The frequency of suicide in the case of the old has been established by
numerous statistics, and the new facts which I now cite do no more than
confirm it. In 1878, in Prussia, amongst 100,000 individuals there were 154
cases of suicide of men between the ages of 20 and 50, but 295, that is to
say, nearly twice as many of men between the ages of 50 and 80. In
lives. According to a Bergamask tradition, old women have seven souls, and
after that an eighth soul, quite a little one, and after that again half a soul;
whilst the Lithuanians complain that the life of an old woman is so tough
that it cannot be crushed even in a mill. We may take it as an echo of such
popular ideas that murders of old people are extremely common even in the
most civilised European countries. I have been astonished in looking
through criminal records to see how many cases there are of the murder of
old people, specially of old women. It is easy to divine the motives of these
acts. A convict of the Island of Saghalien, condemned for the assassination
of several old persons, declared naïvely to the prison doctor: “Why pity
them? They were already old, and would have died in any case in a few
years.”
In the celebrated novel of Dostoiewsky, “Crime and Punishment,” there is a
tavern scene where young people discuss all sorts of general topics. In the
middle of the conversation a student declares that he would “murder and
rob any cursed old woman without the least remorse.” “If the truth were
told,” he goes on to say, “this is how I look at the thing. On the one hand a
stupid old woman, childish, worthless, ill-tempered, and in bad health; no
one would miss her, indeed she is a nuisance to everyone. She does not
even herself know any reason why she should live, and perhaps to-morrow
death will make a good riddance of her. On the other hand, there are fresh
and vigorous young people who are dying in their thousands, in the most
senseless way, no one troubling about them, and everywhere the same thing
is going on.”
Old people not only run the risk of murder; they very often end their own
lives prematurely by suicide.
They prefer death to a life oppressed by material hardships or burdened by
diseases. The daily papers give many instances of old people who, tired of
suffering, asphyxiate themselves by their charcoal stoves.
The frequency of suicide in the case of the old has been established by
numerous statistics, and the new facts which I now cite do no more than
confirm it. In 1878, in Prussia, amongst 100,000 individuals there were 154
cases of suicide of men between the ages of 20 and 50, but 295, that is to
say, nearly twice as many of men between the ages of 50 and 80. In
Page 18
Denmark, a country in which suicide is notoriously common, a similar
proportion exists. Thus, in Copenhagen, in the ten years from 1886 to 1895,
there were 394 suicides of men between 50 and 70. These figures relate to
100,000 individuals. Of the suicides 36-1/2 per cent. were those of people
in the prime of life, 63-1/2 per cent. those of the aged.1
In such circumstances, it is natural that politicians and philanthropists have
made many attempts to ameliorate the old age of the poor. In some
countries laws have been passed to bring about this. For instance, a Danish
law of June 27th, 1891, established compulsory aid for the aged, enacting
that every person more than 60 years old was to have the legal right to aid if
required. In 1896 more than 36,000 people (36,246) were pensioned under
this law, at a cost of nearly £200,000. In Belgium, the indigent old people
are not pensioned until they reach the age of 65. In France, until recently,
the aged poor could be supported at the public expense only by prosecuting
them and sending them to prison for begging. This state of affairs, however,
ceased with the application of the law of July 15th, 1905, according to
which any French subject without resources, unable to support himself by
work, and either more than 70 years of age, or suffering from some
incurable infirmity or disease, is to receive public assistance.
It has been thought the proper course to make such laws, and to lay the
burden on the general population, without inquiring if it may not be
possible to retard the debility of old age to such an extent that very old
people might still be able to earn their livelihood by work. Old age can be
studied by the methods of exact science, and there may yet be established
some regimen by which health and vigour will be preserved beyond the age
where now it is generally necessary to resort to public charity. With this
object, a systematic investigation of senescence should be made in
institutions for the aged, where there are always a large number of people
from 75 to 90 years old, although centenarians are extremely rare. I know
many institutions for aged men where, from their first foundation, there has
been no case of an inhabitant reaching the age of 100, and even in similar
institutions for women, although women live to much greater ages than
men, centenarians are very rare. At the Salpêtrière, for instance, where there
is always a large number of old women, it is the rarest chance to find a
centenarian. Opportunity for the study of the extremely aged is to be found
only in private families.
proportion exists. Thus, in Copenhagen, in the ten years from 1886 to 1895,
there were 394 suicides of men between 50 and 70. These figures relate to
100,000 individuals. Of the suicides 36-1/2 per cent. were those of people
in the prime of life, 63-1/2 per cent. those of the aged.1
In such circumstances, it is natural that politicians and philanthropists have
made many attempts to ameliorate the old age of the poor. In some
countries laws have been passed to bring about this. For instance, a Danish
law of June 27th, 1891, established compulsory aid for the aged, enacting
that every person more than 60 years old was to have the legal right to aid if
required. In 1896 more than 36,000 people (36,246) were pensioned under
this law, at a cost of nearly £200,000. In Belgium, the indigent old people
are not pensioned until they reach the age of 65. In France, until recently,
the aged poor could be supported at the public expense only by prosecuting
them and sending them to prison for begging. This state of affairs, however,
ceased with the application of the law of July 15th, 1905, according to
which any French subject without resources, unable to support himself by
work, and either more than 70 years of age, or suffering from some
incurable infirmity or disease, is to receive public assistance.
It has been thought the proper course to make such laws, and to lay the
burden on the general population, without inquiring if it may not be
possible to retard the debility of old age to such an extent that very old
people might still be able to earn their livelihood by work. Old age can be
studied by the methods of exact science, and there may yet be established
some regimen by which health and vigour will be preserved beyond the age
where now it is generally necessary to resort to public charity. With this
object, a systematic investigation of senescence should be made in
institutions for the aged, where there are always a large number of people
from 75 to 90 years old, although centenarians are extremely rare. I know
many institutions for aged men where, from their first foundation, there has
been no case of an inhabitant reaching the age of 100, and even in similar
institutions for women, although women live to much greater ages than
men, centenarians are very rare. At the Salpêtrière, for instance, where there
is always a large number of old women, it is the rarest chance to find a
centenarian. Opportunity for the study of the extremely aged is to be found
only in private families.
Page 19
Most of the centenarians whom I have been able to see have been so
defective mentally that all that can be studied in them are the physical
qualities and functions. A few years ago an old woman who had reached her
100th year was the pride of the Salpêtrière. She was bedridden and
extremely feeble physically and mentally. She replied briefly when she was
asked questions, but apparently without any idea of what they meant.
Not long ago, a lady who lived in a suburb of Rouen reached her 100th
birthday. The local newspapers wrote exaggerated articles about her,
praising the integrity of her mind and her physical strength. I paid a visit to
her myself, hoping to make a detailed investigation, but I found at once that
the journalists had completely misrepresented her condition. Although her
physical health was fairly good, her intelligence had degenerated to such an
extent that I had to abandon the idea of any serious investigation.
The most interesting of all the centenarians with whom I have become
acquainted had reached an extremely advanced age, having entered upon
her 107th year. It is about two years ago that a journalist, Monsieur
Flamans, took me to see this Mme. Robineau who lived in a suburb of
Paris. I found her a very old-looking lady, rather short, thin, with a bent
back, and leaning heavily on a cane when she walked. The physical
condition (Mme. Robineau was born on January 12th, 1800), of this woman
of more than 106 years, showed extreme decay. She had only one tooth; she
had to sit down after every few steps, but, once comfortably seated, she
could remain in that position for quite a long time. She went to bed early
and got up very late. Her features displayed very great age (see Fig. 1),
although her skin was not extremely wrinkled.
defective mentally that all that can be studied in them are the physical
qualities and functions. A few years ago an old woman who had reached her
100th year was the pride of the Salpêtrière. She was bedridden and
extremely feeble physically and mentally. She replied briefly when she was
asked questions, but apparently without any idea of what they meant.
Not long ago, a lady who lived in a suburb of Rouen reached her 100th
birthday. The local newspapers wrote exaggerated articles about her,
praising the integrity of her mind and her physical strength. I paid a visit to
her myself, hoping to make a detailed investigation, but I found at once that
the journalists had completely misrepresented her condition. Although her
physical health was fairly good, her intelligence had degenerated to such an
extent that I had to abandon the idea of any serious investigation.
The most interesting of all the centenarians with whom I have become
acquainted had reached an extremely advanced age, having entered upon
her 107th year. It is about two years ago that a journalist, Monsieur
Flamans, took me to see this Mme. Robineau who lived in a suburb of
Paris. I found her a very old-looking lady, rather short, thin, with a bent
back, and leaning heavily on a cane when she walked. The physical
condition (Mme. Robineau was born on January 12th, 1800), of this woman
of more than 106 years, showed extreme decay. She had only one tooth; she
had to sit down after every few steps, but, once comfortably seated, she
could remain in that position for quite a long time. She went to bed early
and got up very late. Her features displayed very great age (see Fig. 1),
although her skin was not extremely wrinkled.
Page 20
Fig. 1.—Mme. Robineau, a centenarian. From a photograph taken on her one hundred and fifth
birthday.
The skin of her hands had become so transparent that one could see the
bones, the blood-vessels, and the tendons. Her senses were very feeble; she
could see only with one eye; taste and smell were extremely rudimentary;
her hearing was her best means of relation with the external world. None
the less, Dr. Löwenberg, a well-known aurist, had assured himself that her
auditory organs showed in a most marked degree, the usual signs of old age,
such as complete insensibility to high notes and slight deafness for low
birthday.
The skin of her hands had become so transparent that one could see the
bones, the blood-vessels, and the tendons. Her senses were very feeble; she
could see only with one eye; taste and smell were extremely rudimentary;
her hearing was her best means of relation with the external world. None
the less, Dr. Löwenberg, a well-known aurist, had assured himself that her
auditory organs showed in a most marked degree, the usual signs of old age,
such as complete insensibility to high notes and slight deafness for low
Page 21
notes. Dr. Löwenberg attributed these changes to senile degeneration of the
ear which affected more and more seriously the nervous mechanism
although it had caused little change in the conducting apparatus.
Notwithstanding her physical weakness, Mme. Robineau retained her
intelligence fully, her mind remained delicate and refined and the goodness
of her heart was touching. In contrast with the usual selfishness of old
people, Mme. Robineau took a vivid interest in those around her. Her
conversation was intelligent, connected, and logical. Examination of the
physical functions of this old lady revealed facts of great interest. Dr.
Ambard found that the sounds of the heart were normal, but perhaps a little
accentuated. The pulse was regular, 70 to 84 a minute, and its tension was
normal. The arterial pressure was 17. The lungs were sound. All these facts
testify to her general health. The most remarkable circumstance was the
absence of sclerosis of the arteries, although such degeneration is usually
believed to be a normal character of old age.
Analysis of the urine, made on several occasions, showed that the kidneys
were affected with a chronic disease, which, however, was not serious.2
Although the sense of taste was weak, Madame Robineau had a fair
appetite. She ate and drank little, but her diet was varied. She took butcher’s
meat or chicken extremely seldom, but ate eggs, fish, farinaceous food,
vegetables, and stewed fruit, and drank sweetened water with a little white
wine, and sometimes, after a meal, a small glass of dessert wine. The
processes of alimentary digestion and excretion were normal.
It has sometimes been thought that duration of life is a hereditary property.
There was no evidence for this in the present case. Madame Robineau’s
relatives had died comparatively early in life, and a centenarian was
unknown in her family. Her great age was an acquired character. Her whole
life had been extremely regular. She had married a timber merchant, and
had lived for many years in a suburb of Paris in comfortable circumstances.
Her character was gentle and affectionate; she was thoroughly
domesticated, and had been devoted to home life with very few distractions.
At the age of 106 years, her intelligence suddenly became weak. She lost
her memory almost completely, and sometimes wandered. But her gentle
and affectionate disposition remained unaltered.
ear which affected more and more seriously the nervous mechanism
although it had caused little change in the conducting apparatus.
Notwithstanding her physical weakness, Mme. Robineau retained her
intelligence fully, her mind remained delicate and refined and the goodness
of her heart was touching. In contrast with the usual selfishness of old
people, Mme. Robineau took a vivid interest in those around her. Her
conversation was intelligent, connected, and logical. Examination of the
physical functions of this old lady revealed facts of great interest. Dr.
Ambard found that the sounds of the heart were normal, but perhaps a little
accentuated. The pulse was regular, 70 to 84 a minute, and its tension was
normal. The arterial pressure was 17. The lungs were sound. All these facts
testify to her general health. The most remarkable circumstance was the
absence of sclerosis of the arteries, although such degeneration is usually
believed to be a normal character of old age.
Analysis of the urine, made on several occasions, showed that the kidneys
were affected with a chronic disease, which, however, was not serious.2
Although the sense of taste was weak, Madame Robineau had a fair
appetite. She ate and drank little, but her diet was varied. She took butcher’s
meat or chicken extremely seldom, but ate eggs, fish, farinaceous food,
vegetables, and stewed fruit, and drank sweetened water with a little white
wine, and sometimes, after a meal, a small glass of dessert wine. The
processes of alimentary digestion and excretion were normal.
It has sometimes been thought that duration of life is a hereditary property.
There was no evidence for this in the present case. Madame Robineau’s
relatives had died comparatively early in life, and a centenarian was
unknown in her family. Her great age was an acquired character. Her whole
life had been extremely regular. She had married a timber merchant, and
had lived for many years in a suburb of Paris in comfortable circumstances.
Her character was gentle and affectionate; she was thoroughly
domesticated, and had been devoted to home life with very few distractions.
At the age of 106 years, her intelligence suddenly became weak. She lost
her memory almost completely, and sometimes wandered. But her gentle
and affectionate disposition remained unaltered.
Page 22
The appearance of aged persons is too well known to make detailed
description necessary. The skin of the face is dry and wrinkled and
generally pale; the hairs on the head and the body are white; the back is
bent, and the gait is slow and laborious, whilst the memory is weak. Such
are the most familiar traits of old age. Baldness is not a special character; it
often begins during youth and naturally is progressive, but if it has not
already appeared, it does not come on with old age.
The stature diminishes in old age. As the result of a series of observations, it
has been established that a man loses more than an inch (3·166 cm.), and a
woman more than an inch and a half (4·3 cm.), between the ages of fifty
and eighty-five years. In extreme cases, the loss may be nearly three inches.
The weight also becomes less. According to Quételet, males attain their
maximum weights at the age of forty, females at that of fifty. From the age
of sixty years onwards, the body becomes lighter, the loss at eighty being as
much as thirteen pounds.
Such losses of height and weight are signs of the general atrophy of the
aged organism. Not merely the soft parts, such as the muscles and viscera,
but even the bones lose weight, in the latter case the loss being of the
mineral constituents. This process of decalcification makes the skeleton
brittle, and is sometimes the cause of fatal accidents.
The loss of muscular tissue is specially great. The volume diminishes, and
the substance becomes paler; the fat between the fibres is absorbed, and
may disappear completely. Movements are slower, and the muscular force
is abated. This progressive degeneration has been examined by
dynamometrical measurements of the hand and the trunk, and is greater in
males than in females.
The volumes and weights of the visceral organs similarly become smaller,
but the diminution is not uniform.
The old age of lower mammals presents characters similar to those found in
man. I can now give other instances than the case of the old dog which I
described in the “Nature of Man.”
I will first take the case of old elephants, described by a competent
observer. “The general appearance is wretched, the skull being often hardly
covered with skin; there are deep abrasions under the eyes, and smaller ones
description necessary. The skin of the face is dry and wrinkled and
generally pale; the hairs on the head and the body are white; the back is
bent, and the gait is slow and laborious, whilst the memory is weak. Such
are the most familiar traits of old age. Baldness is not a special character; it
often begins during youth and naturally is progressive, but if it has not
already appeared, it does not come on with old age.
The stature diminishes in old age. As the result of a series of observations, it
has been established that a man loses more than an inch (3·166 cm.), and a
woman more than an inch and a half (4·3 cm.), between the ages of fifty
and eighty-five years. In extreme cases, the loss may be nearly three inches.
The weight also becomes less. According to Quételet, males attain their
maximum weights at the age of forty, females at that of fifty. From the age
of sixty years onwards, the body becomes lighter, the loss at eighty being as
much as thirteen pounds.
Such losses of height and weight are signs of the general atrophy of the
aged organism. Not merely the soft parts, such as the muscles and viscera,
but even the bones lose weight, in the latter case the loss being of the
mineral constituents. This process of decalcification makes the skeleton
brittle, and is sometimes the cause of fatal accidents.
The loss of muscular tissue is specially great. The volume diminishes, and
the substance becomes paler; the fat between the fibres is absorbed, and
may disappear completely. Movements are slower, and the muscular force
is abated. This progressive degeneration has been examined by
dynamometrical measurements of the hand and the trunk, and is greater in
males than in females.
The volumes and weights of the visceral organs similarly become smaller,
but the diminution is not uniform.
The old age of lower mammals presents characters similar to those found in
man. I can now give other instances than the case of the old dog which I
described in the “Nature of Man.”
I will first take the case of old elephants, described by a competent
observer. “The general appearance is wretched, the skull being often hardly
covered with skin; there are deep abrasions under the eyes, and smaller ones
Page 23
on the cheeks, whilst the skin of the forehead is very often deeply fissured
or covered with lumps. The eyes are usually dim, and discharge an
abnormal quantity of water. The margin of the ears, specially on the lower
side, is usually frayed. The skin of the trunk is roughened, hard, and warty,
so that the organ has lost much of its flexibility. The skin on the body
generally is worn and wrinkled; the legs are thinner than in maturity, the
huge mass of muscles being much shrunken, whilst the circumference,
especially just above the feet, is considerably reduced. The skin round the
toe-nails is roughened and frayed. The tail is scaly and hard, and the tip is
often hairless.
Fig. 2.—A Mare, thirty-seven years old.
or covered with lumps. The eyes are usually dim, and discharge an
abnormal quantity of water. The margin of the ears, specially on the lower
side, is usually frayed. The skin of the trunk is roughened, hard, and warty,
so that the organ has lost much of its flexibility. The skin on the body
generally is worn and wrinkled; the legs are thinner than in maturity, the
huge mass of muscles being much shrunken, whilst the circumference,
especially just above the feet, is considerably reduced. The skin round the
toe-nails is roughened and frayed. The tail is scaly and hard, and the tip is
often hairless.
Fig. 2.—A Mare, thirty-seven years old.
Page 24
Fig. 3.—A White Duck, which lived for more than a quarter of a
century.
Horses begin to grow old much sooner than elephants. I reproduce (Fig. 2)
the photograph of a rare instance of longevity, a mare 37 years old, which
belonged to M. Métaine, in the department of Mayenne. The skin, bare in
places, but elsewhere covered with long hairs, shows considerable atrophy.
The general attitude reveals the feebleness of the whole body. Many birds,
on the other hand, show at similar ages very slight external change, as may
be seen from the photograph of a duck more than 25 years old (Fig. 3)
which belonged to Dr. Jean Charcot. At a still greater age, as may be seen
occasionally in parrots, the general debility of the body reveals itself in the
attitude, in the condition of the feathers, and in the swelling of the joints.
On the other hand, the oldest reptiles which have been observed do not
differ in appearance from normal adults of the same species. I have in my
possession a male tortoise (Testudo mauritanica) given me by my friends
MM. Rabaud and Caullery, and which is at least 86 years old. It shows no
sign of old age, and in all respects behaves like any other individual of this
species. More than 31 years ago it was wounded by a blow, the traces of
which remain visible on the right side of the carapace (Fig. 4). In the last
three years the tortoise lived in a garden at Montauban, along with two
century.
Horses begin to grow old much sooner than elephants. I reproduce (Fig. 2)
the photograph of a rare instance of longevity, a mare 37 years old, which
belonged to M. Métaine, in the department of Mayenne. The skin, bare in
places, but elsewhere covered with long hairs, shows considerable atrophy.
The general attitude reveals the feebleness of the whole body. Many birds,
on the other hand, show at similar ages very slight external change, as may
be seen from the photograph of a duck more than 25 years old (Fig. 3)
which belonged to Dr. Jean Charcot. At a still greater age, as may be seen
occasionally in parrots, the general debility of the body reveals itself in the
attitude, in the condition of the feathers, and in the swelling of the joints.
On the other hand, the oldest reptiles which have been observed do not
differ in appearance from normal adults of the same species. I have in my
possession a male tortoise (Testudo mauritanica) given me by my friends
MM. Rabaud and Caullery, and which is at least 86 years old. It shows no
sign of old age, and in all respects behaves like any other individual of this
species. More than 31 years ago it was wounded by a blow, the traces of
which remain visible on the right side of the carapace (Fig. 4). In the last
three years the tortoise lived in a garden at Montauban, along with two
Page 25
females which laid fertile eggs. The old male, although, as I have said,
probably at least 86 years of age, was still sexually healthy.
Fig. 4.—An Old Land-tortoise.
I have borrowed from the interesting volume of Prof. Sir E. Ray Lankester3
the figure (Fig. 5) and description of a giant tortoise from the island of
Mauritius, which is probably the oldest of all living animals. It was brought
to Mauritius from the Seychelles in 1764, and has lived since then in the
garden of the Governor, and as it has thus already been 140 years in
captivity, its age must be at least 150 years, although we have not exact
information. Notwithstanding this, it shows no signs of old age.
The examples which I have brought together show that often amongst
vertebrates there are some animals the organisms of which withstand the
ravages of time much better than that of man. I think it a fair inference that
senility, the precocious senescence which is one of the greatest sorrows of
humanity, is not so profoundly seated in the constitution of the higher
animals as has generally been supposed. It is not necessary, therefore, to
discuss at length the general question as to whether senile degeneration is
an inevitable event in living organisms.
probably at least 86 years of age, was still sexually healthy.
Fig. 4.—An Old Land-tortoise.
I have borrowed from the interesting volume of Prof. Sir E. Ray Lankester3
the figure (Fig. 5) and description of a giant tortoise from the island of
Mauritius, which is probably the oldest of all living animals. It was brought
to Mauritius from the Seychelles in 1764, and has lived since then in the
garden of the Governor, and as it has thus already been 140 years in
captivity, its age must be at least 150 years, although we have not exact
information. Notwithstanding this, it shows no signs of old age.
The examples which I have brought together show that often amongst
vertebrates there are some animals the organisms of which withstand the
ravages of time much better than that of man. I think it a fair inference that
senility, the precocious senescence which is one of the greatest sorrows of
humanity, is not so profoundly seated in the constitution of the higher
animals as has generally been supposed. It is not necessary, therefore, to
discuss at length the general question as to whether senile degeneration is
an inevitable event in living organisms.
Page 26
Fig. 5.—A Water-tortoise, more than 150 years old.
(After Prof. Sir E. Ray Lankester.)
I have already shown, in the “Nature of Man,” the difference which exists
between senile degeneration in our own bodies and the phenomena of
senescence amongst Infusoria which, as M. Maupas described, are followed
by a process of rejuvenescence. According to the more recent results of
several investigators, the difference is still greater than I had supposed.
Enriquez4 has been able to propagate Infusoria to the 700th generation
without any sign of senility being displayed. Here we are far from the
condition in the human race.
R. Hertwig,5 one of the best observers of the lower animals, has recently
attempted to show that the very simple animalculæ of the genus
Actinosphærium are subject to true physiological degeneration. He has
several times seen cultures of this Rhizopod degenerate, until all the
individuals had died, notwithstanding the presence of abundant food. Prof.
Hertwig attributed this to the “constitution of the Actinosphærium having
been weakened by too great vital activity at an earlier stage.” I should have
thought that it was a much more natural explanation to suppose that the
culture had undergone infection by one of the contagious diseases which so
often destroy cultures of different kinds of lower animals and plants. As this
idea had not occurred to the observer, he had not searched for parasitic
microbes amongst the granulations which are always present in the body of
(After Prof. Sir E. Ray Lankester.)
I have already shown, in the “Nature of Man,” the difference which exists
between senile degeneration in our own bodies and the phenomena of
senescence amongst Infusoria which, as M. Maupas described, are followed
by a process of rejuvenescence. According to the more recent results of
several investigators, the difference is still greater than I had supposed.
Enriquez4 has been able to propagate Infusoria to the 700th generation
without any sign of senility being displayed. Here we are far from the
condition in the human race.
R. Hertwig,5 one of the best observers of the lower animals, has recently
attempted to show that the very simple animalculæ of the genus
Actinosphærium are subject to true physiological degeneration. He has
several times seen cultures of this Rhizopod degenerate, until all the
individuals had died, notwithstanding the presence of abundant food. Prof.
Hertwig attributed this to the “constitution of the Actinosphærium having
been weakened by too great vital activity at an earlier stage.” I should have
thought that it was a much more natural explanation to suppose that the
culture had undergone infection by one of the contagious diseases which so
often destroy cultures of different kinds of lower animals and plants. As this
idea had not occurred to the observer, he had not searched for parasitic
microbes amongst the granulations which are always present in the body of
Page 27
an Actinosphærium. However this may be, I cannot accept the facts brought
forward by this distinguished German as a valid proof of the existence of
senile degeneration in these lowly creatures.
The facts that I have brought together in this chapter justify the conclusion
that human beings who reach extreme old age may preserve their mental
qualities notwithstanding serious physical decay. Moreover, it is equally
plain that the organism of some vertebrates is able to resist the influence of
time much longer than is the case with man under present conditions.
II
THEORIES OF CAUSATION OF SENILITY
Hypothesis of the causation of senility—Senility cannot be attributed to the cessation of the
power of reproduction of the cells of the body—Growth of the hair and the nails in old age
—Inner mechanism of the senescence of the tissues—Notwithstanding the criticisms of M.
Marinesco, the neuronophags are true phagocytes—The whitening of hair and the
destruction of nerve cells, as arguments against a theory of old age based on the failure of
the reproductive powers of the cells
Although it has not been proved that living matter must inevitably undergo
senile decrepitude, it is none the less true that man and his nearest allies
generally exhibit such degeneration. It is therefore extremely important to
recognise the real causes of our senescence. There have been many
hypotheses on the subject, but there are comparatively few definite facts
known.
Bütschli has supposed that the life of cells is maintained by a specific vital
ferment which becomes feebler in proportion to the extent of cellular
reproduction, but I cannot regard this as more than a pious opinion. The
ferment has never been seen, and we do not know of its actual existence.
According to the better-known theory of Prof. Weismann, old age depends
on a limitation in the power of cells to reproduce, so that a time comes
when the body can no longer replace the wastage of cells which is an
inevitable accompaniment of life. As old age appears at different times in
different species and different individuals, Weismann has concluded that the
possible number of cell generations differs in different cases. He has not
forward by this distinguished German as a valid proof of the existence of
senile degeneration in these lowly creatures.
The facts that I have brought together in this chapter justify the conclusion
that human beings who reach extreme old age may preserve their mental
qualities notwithstanding serious physical decay. Moreover, it is equally
plain that the organism of some vertebrates is able to resist the influence of
time much longer than is the case with man under present conditions.
II
THEORIES OF CAUSATION OF SENILITY
Hypothesis of the causation of senility—Senility cannot be attributed to the cessation of the
power of reproduction of the cells of the body—Growth of the hair and the nails in old age
—Inner mechanism of the senescence of the tissues—Notwithstanding the criticisms of M.
Marinesco, the neuronophags are true phagocytes—The whitening of hair and the
destruction of nerve cells, as arguments against a theory of old age based on the failure of
the reproductive powers of the cells
Although it has not been proved that living matter must inevitably undergo
senile decrepitude, it is none the less true that man and his nearest allies
generally exhibit such degeneration. It is therefore extremely important to
recognise the real causes of our senescence. There have been many
hypotheses on the subject, but there are comparatively few definite facts
known.
Bütschli has supposed that the life of cells is maintained by a specific vital
ferment which becomes feebler in proportion to the extent of cellular
reproduction, but I cannot regard this as more than a pious opinion. The
ferment has never been seen, and we do not know of its actual existence.
According to the better-known theory of Prof. Weismann, old age depends
on a limitation in the power of cells to reproduce, so that a time comes
when the body can no longer replace the wastage of cells which is an
inevitable accompaniment of life. As old age appears at different times in
different species and different individuals, Weismann has concluded that the
possible number of cell generations differs in different cases. He has not
Page 28
found, however, a solution of the problem as to why multiplication of cells
should cease in one individual, whereas it proceeds much further in other
individuals. Prof. Minot,6 the American zoologist, has developed a similar
theory, and has employed an exact method to determine the gradual
diminution in the rate of growth of an animal from its birth onwards.
According to him, the power of reproduction of the cells weakens
progressively during life, until a point is necessarily reached at which the
organism, no longer capable of repairing itself, begins to atrophy and
degenerate. Dr. Buehler7 has recently laid stress upon this theory.
There is no doubt that cells reproduce much more actively during the
embryonic period. The process becomes slower later on, but, none the less,
continues to display itself throughout the whole period of life. Buehler
attributes the difficulty with which certain wounds heal in the case of old
people to the insufficiency of cellular reproduction. He thinks in particular
that the proliferation of the cells of the skin, to replace those which are
worn off from the surface, becomes less active with age. According to him,
it is theoretically obvious that a time must come when the replacement of
the epidermic cells completely ceases. As the superficial layers of the skin
continue to dry up and be cast off, it is plain that the epidermis must
disappear completely. Buehler thinks that there must be a similar fate for
the genital glands, the muscles, and all the other organs.
These theoretical considerations, however, are not compatible with certain
well-known facts indicating that there is no general cessation of the power
of cell reproduction in old age. The hairs and the nails, which are epidermic
outgrowths, continue to grow throughout life, their growth being due to the
proliferation of their constituent cells. There is no sign of any arrest in the
development of these structures, even in the most advanced old age. The
reverse is true. It is well known that the hairs on some parts of the body
increase in number and in length in old people. In some lower races, for
instance in the Mongols, the moustache and the beard grow vigorously in
old age, whilst young people of the same race have only very small
moustaches and practically no trace of beard. So also in white women the
fine and almost invisible down which covers the upper lip, the chin, and the
cheeks in the young may become replaced by long hairs which form a
moustache or beard.
should cease in one individual, whereas it proceeds much further in other
individuals. Prof. Minot,6 the American zoologist, has developed a similar
theory, and has employed an exact method to determine the gradual
diminution in the rate of growth of an animal from its birth onwards.
According to him, the power of reproduction of the cells weakens
progressively during life, until a point is necessarily reached at which the
organism, no longer capable of repairing itself, begins to atrophy and
degenerate. Dr. Buehler7 has recently laid stress upon this theory.
There is no doubt that cells reproduce much more actively during the
embryonic period. The process becomes slower later on, but, none the less,
continues to display itself throughout the whole period of life. Buehler
attributes the difficulty with which certain wounds heal in the case of old
people to the insufficiency of cellular reproduction. He thinks in particular
that the proliferation of the cells of the skin, to replace those which are
worn off from the surface, becomes less active with age. According to him,
it is theoretically obvious that a time must come when the replacement of
the epidermic cells completely ceases. As the superficial layers of the skin
continue to dry up and be cast off, it is plain that the epidermis must
disappear completely. Buehler thinks that there must be a similar fate for
the genital glands, the muscles, and all the other organs.
These theoretical considerations, however, are not compatible with certain
well-known facts indicating that there is no general cessation of the power
of cell reproduction in old age. The hairs and the nails, which are epidermic
outgrowths, continue to grow throughout life, their growth being due to the
proliferation of their constituent cells. There is no sign of any arrest in the
development of these structures, even in the most advanced old age. The
reverse is true. It is well known that the hairs on some parts of the body
increase in number and in length in old people. In some lower races, for
instance in the Mongols, the moustache and the beard grow vigorously in
old age, whilst young people of the same race have only very small
moustaches and practically no trace of beard. So also in white women the
fine and almost invisible down which covers the upper lip, the chin, and the
cheeks in the young may become replaced by long hairs which form a
moustache or beard.
Page 29
Dr. Pohl, a specialist in the growth of hair, has measured the rate of growth
in different circumstances. He has shown that in an old man of 61 the hair
on the temple grew 11 mm. in a month; on the other hand, the hair on the
same region in boys of 11 to 15 years old grew in the same time only from
11 to 12 mm. Plainly, there is no case here of a progressive diminution of
cell-proliferation with age. The same observer, it is true, has shown that the
hair of young men of between 21 and 24 years grew at the rate of 15 mm. a
month, whilst in the same individuals, at the age of 61 years, the rate of
growth was only 11 mm.; but this diminution in the rate of growth is only
apparent. The first figure concerned the hair taken from different regions of
the scalp, whilst the second related only to the hair on the temples, and Dr.
Pohl himself has shown that, in the latter region, the hair grows slower than
in other regions. Moreover, in many boys of 11 to 15 years old, studied by
this observer, the rate of growth was always less than 15 mm., and often
less even than the 11 mm. recorded in the old man of 61.
I have been able to note that the nails grow even in very old people. In the
case of Mme. Robineau, the centenarian, the nail of the middle finger of the
left hand grew 2-1/2 mm. in three weeks. In the case of a lady of 32 years
old, the corresponding nail grew 3 mm. in two weeks, the difference being
out of all proportion to the enormous difference in the age. The
centenarian’s nails had to be cut from time to time.
Although the hairs of old people grow, they become white, which is a
phenomenon of senile degeneration. Although they increase in length, the
colouring matter in them becomes reduced and finally disappears. In the
“Nature of Man” I described the process by which this blanching takes
place, and which may now be regarded as definitely proved. It is useful as a
means of interpreting the real nature of the process of senescence. In several
published works, I have explained my belief that just as the pigment of the
hair is destroyed by phagocytes, so also the atrophy of other organs of the
body, in old age, is very frequently due to the action of devouring cells
which I have called macrophags. These are the phagocytes that destroy the
higher elements of the body, such as the nervous and muscular cells, and the
cells of the liver and kidneys. This part of my theory has encountered very
strong criticism, especially with regard to the part played by the
macrophags in the senescence of nervous tissue.
in different circumstances. He has shown that in an old man of 61 the hair
on the temple grew 11 mm. in a month; on the other hand, the hair on the
same region in boys of 11 to 15 years old grew in the same time only from
11 to 12 mm. Plainly, there is no case here of a progressive diminution of
cell-proliferation with age. The same observer, it is true, has shown that the
hair of young men of between 21 and 24 years grew at the rate of 15 mm. a
month, whilst in the same individuals, at the age of 61 years, the rate of
growth was only 11 mm.; but this diminution in the rate of growth is only
apparent. The first figure concerned the hair taken from different regions of
the scalp, whilst the second related only to the hair on the temples, and Dr.
Pohl himself has shown that, in the latter region, the hair grows slower than
in other regions. Moreover, in many boys of 11 to 15 years old, studied by
this observer, the rate of growth was always less than 15 mm., and often
less even than the 11 mm. recorded in the old man of 61.
I have been able to note that the nails grow even in very old people. In the
case of Mme. Robineau, the centenarian, the nail of the middle finger of the
left hand grew 2-1/2 mm. in three weeks. In the case of a lady of 32 years
old, the corresponding nail grew 3 mm. in two weeks, the difference being
out of all proportion to the enormous difference in the age. The
centenarian’s nails had to be cut from time to time.
Although the hairs of old people grow, they become white, which is a
phenomenon of senile degeneration. Although they increase in length, the
colouring matter in them becomes reduced and finally disappears. In the
“Nature of Man” I described the process by which this blanching takes
place, and which may now be regarded as definitely proved. It is useful as a
means of interpreting the real nature of the process of senescence. In several
published works, I have explained my belief that just as the pigment of the
hair is destroyed by phagocytes, so also the atrophy of other organs of the
body, in old age, is very frequently due to the action of devouring cells
which I have called macrophags. These are the phagocytes that destroy the
higher elements of the body, such as the nervous and muscular cells, and the
cells of the liver and kidneys. This part of my theory has encountered very
strong criticism, especially with regard to the part played by the
macrophags in the senescence of nervous tissue.
Page 30
Neurologists in particular, have criticised my interpretation. For several
years M. Marinesco8 has attacked my theory of the atrophy of the nerve-
cells in old age. In the first place, he has stated that in old people, and even
if these are very old, it is rare to find phagocytes surrounding and devouring
the cells of the brain. In support of this contention, he has been good
enough to send me two preparations made from the brains of two very old
persons. After careful examination I was convinced that my opponent had
been inexact. In the brain of the two centenarians (one of whom died at the
age of 117 years) there were very many nerve-cells surrounded by
phagocytes and in process of being destroyed by them. It happened,
however, that as the sections were very weakly stained, it was more difficult
to observe the facts than in the preparations upon which I had made my
own observations. I have already recorded this fact in the second and third
French editions of the “Nature of Man.”
Without taking notice of my reply, M. Marinesco has published another
criticism of my theory in an article9 entitled “Histological Investigations
into the Mechanism of Senility.” In that work, although he himself had
invented the designation “neuronophag” for a phagocyte that devours
nerve-cells, he denies the existence of such a power. He thinks that nerve-
cells atrophy independently of the cells that surround them. The latter, the
so-called neuronophags, only contribute to the atrophy inasmuch as they
press against the nerve-cells and deprive them of nutrition. He is confident
that the constituent parts of nerve-cells are never found in the
neuronophags. There is no question of phagocytosis, of the existence of
cells that devour their neighbours.
M. Léri has taken a similar view in a Report on the Senile Brain10 presented
to a recent congress of alienists and neurologists. According to him “the
nuclei which surround some of the atrophying nerve-cells do not play the
part of neuronophags.” In his monograph “La Neuronophagie,”11 M. Sand
elaborates the same view. He relies on his observation that “neuronophags
are usually either devoid of protoplasm or display only a very thin layer of
it. They never exhibit protoplasmic outgrowths, and they never have
granules in their cellular bodies (p. 86).” Still more recently MM. Laignel-
Lavastine and Voisin12 have taken the same view, maintaining that the
neuronophags do not display phagocytosis.
years M. Marinesco8 has attacked my theory of the atrophy of the nerve-
cells in old age. In the first place, he has stated that in old people, and even
if these are very old, it is rare to find phagocytes surrounding and devouring
the cells of the brain. In support of this contention, he has been good
enough to send me two preparations made from the brains of two very old
persons. After careful examination I was convinced that my opponent had
been inexact. In the brain of the two centenarians (one of whom died at the
age of 117 years) there were very many nerve-cells surrounded by
phagocytes and in process of being destroyed by them. It happened,
however, that as the sections were very weakly stained, it was more difficult
to observe the facts than in the preparations upon which I had made my
own observations. I have already recorded this fact in the second and third
French editions of the “Nature of Man.”
Without taking notice of my reply, M. Marinesco has published another
criticism of my theory in an article9 entitled “Histological Investigations
into the Mechanism of Senility.” In that work, although he himself had
invented the designation “neuronophag” for a phagocyte that devours
nerve-cells, he denies the existence of such a power. He thinks that nerve-
cells atrophy independently of the cells that surround them. The latter, the
so-called neuronophags, only contribute to the atrophy inasmuch as they
press against the nerve-cells and deprive them of nutrition. He is confident
that the constituent parts of nerve-cells are never found in the
neuronophags. There is no question of phagocytosis, of the existence of
cells that devour their neighbours.
M. Léri has taken a similar view in a Report on the Senile Brain10 presented
to a recent congress of alienists and neurologists. According to him “the
nuclei which surround some of the atrophying nerve-cells do not play the
part of neuronophags.” In his monograph “La Neuronophagie,”11 M. Sand
elaborates the same view. He relies on his observation that “neuronophags
are usually either devoid of protoplasm or display only a very thin layer of
it. They never exhibit protoplasmic outgrowths, and they never have
granules in their cellular bodies (p. 86).” Still more recently MM. Laignel-
Lavastine and Voisin12 have taken the same view, maintaining that the
neuronophags do not display phagocytosis.
Page 31
Although I cannot undertake here to give a detailed reply to the arguments
of my critics, I may point out a fallacy that vitiates their reasoning. The
study of the intimate structure of nervous tissue involves the treatment of
that very delicate substance by numerous active reagents. It is extremely
important not to forget the possibility of alterations which may be produced
in the processes of preparation and which are extremely difficult to avoid. A
glance at the figures given by my critics shows me that the neuronophags in
their preparations had been subjected to violent treatment. When M. Léri
speaks of “the nuclei which surround some of the nerve-cells,” and M. Sand
of “cells without protoplasm,” it is clear that they had been observing cells
destroyed by the processes of the laboratory. The illustrations in the memoir
of M. Marinesco show that in his preparations, too, the neuronophags had
been very greatly altered.
It is well known that nuclei do not exist free in tissues, and that when they
appear devoid of protoplasm, there has been some defect in the technical
methods of preparing them for examination. As a matter of fact,
neuronophags do not consist of nuclei with at the most a pellicle of
protoplasm; like other cells, they have protoplasmic bodies which, however,
are frequently destroyed by the violent processes of histological
preparation.
The arguments of my critics recall to me the words of a medical student,
who, on being asked to describe the microbe of tuberculosis, said that it was
a little red bacillus. The bacillus in question, like most bacilli, is colourless,
but it is usual to stain it so that it may be visible under the microscope. The
student, knowing it only in particular preparations, had a false idea of its
appearance.
In well-made preparations, neuronophags are typical cells with abundant
protoplasm. When they have been preserved by a process that does not
dissolve their contents, they show granules like those found in nerve-cells.
To study neuronophagy, M. Manouélian,13 in the laboratory of the Pasteur
Institute in Paris, set himself to improve the technical methods of
preparation. He succeeded in showing first that in the destruction of nerve-
cells that occurs in cases of hydrophobia, the contents of these cells are
absorbed by the surrounding neuronophags. “My observations on the
cerebro-spinal ganglia of human cases of hydrophobia,” he wrote, “show
of my critics, I may point out a fallacy that vitiates their reasoning. The
study of the intimate structure of nervous tissue involves the treatment of
that very delicate substance by numerous active reagents. It is extremely
important not to forget the possibility of alterations which may be produced
in the processes of preparation and which are extremely difficult to avoid. A
glance at the figures given by my critics shows me that the neuronophags in
their preparations had been subjected to violent treatment. When M. Léri
speaks of “the nuclei which surround some of the nerve-cells,” and M. Sand
of “cells without protoplasm,” it is clear that they had been observing cells
destroyed by the processes of the laboratory. The illustrations in the memoir
of M. Marinesco show that in his preparations, too, the neuronophags had
been very greatly altered.
It is well known that nuclei do not exist free in tissues, and that when they
appear devoid of protoplasm, there has been some defect in the technical
methods of preparing them for examination. As a matter of fact,
neuronophags do not consist of nuclei with at the most a pellicle of
protoplasm; like other cells, they have protoplasmic bodies which, however,
are frequently destroyed by the violent processes of histological
preparation.
The arguments of my critics recall to me the words of a medical student,
who, on being asked to describe the microbe of tuberculosis, said that it was
a little red bacillus. The bacillus in question, like most bacilli, is colourless,
but it is usual to stain it so that it may be visible under the microscope. The
student, knowing it only in particular preparations, had a false idea of its
appearance.
In well-made preparations, neuronophags are typical cells with abundant
protoplasm. When they have been preserved by a process that does not
dissolve their contents, they show granules like those found in nerve-cells.
To study neuronophagy, M. Manouélian,13 in the laboratory of the Pasteur
Institute in Paris, set himself to improve the technical methods of
preparation. He succeeded in showing first that in the destruction of nerve-
cells that occurs in cases of hydrophobia, the contents of these cells are
absorbed by the surrounding neuronophags. “My observations on the
cerebro-spinal ganglia of human cases of hydrophobia,” he wrote, “show
Page 32
clearly that the macrophags act as phagocytes of the nerve-cells.” “Most of
the cells in the nerve-ganglia contain yellow, brown, and black pigmented
granules, usually united in small masses. What becomes of these
granulations on the destruction and disappearance of the nerve-cell? If, as
M. Marinesco has it, there is no phagocytosis by the surrounding cells, but
merely a mechanical interference, then the granules, on the destruction of
the nerve-cells that contained them, should be found lying in the interstitial
tissue. But this does not happen. The granules are ingested by cells which
are true macrophags.”
By the aid of a very delicate mode of preparation, M. Manouélian has
shown that in the case of senile brains the granules of the nerve-cells are
absorbed by neuronophags. I have myself studied M. Manouélian’s
preparations and can testify to the accuracy of his observations (Figs. 6 and
7).
Doubt is no longer possible. In senile degeneration the nerve-cells are
surrounded by neuronophags which absorb their contents and bring about
more or less complete atrophy. It has been supposed that in order to devour
their contents, the neuronophags must penetrate the nerve-cells, and such an
event has rarely been seen. But it is well known, the phagocytosis of red
blood corpuscles being a typical instance, that to absorb a cell a phagocyte
does not necessarily engulf it bodily or penetrate it, but may gradually
denude it of its contents merely by resting in contact with it.
There has been some discussion as to the condition of nerve-cells which are
on the point of being devoured by neuronophags. It has been noticed that
such cells may display a considerable amount of degeneration without
being devoured, whilst, on the other hand, cells apparently normal have
been found undergoing phagocytosis. As I cannot state definitely what are
the conditions that induce the phagocytosis of nerve-cells, I shall not
attempt a discussion of the problem.
Although the destruction of nerve-cells by neuronophags is a general
occurrence in senile brains, one may conceive of cases where this does not
occur. And so, in old people who have preserved their faculties, it may well
be that the neuronophags have refrained from attacking the nerve-cells. But
as such instances are rare, so also phagocytosis is usually found in senile
the cells in the nerve-ganglia contain yellow, brown, and black pigmented
granules, usually united in small masses. What becomes of these
granulations on the destruction and disappearance of the nerve-cell? If, as
M. Marinesco has it, there is no phagocytosis by the surrounding cells, but
merely a mechanical interference, then the granules, on the destruction of
the nerve-cells that contained them, should be found lying in the interstitial
tissue. But this does not happen. The granules are ingested by cells which
are true macrophags.”
By the aid of a very delicate mode of preparation, M. Manouélian has
shown that in the case of senile brains the granules of the nerve-cells are
absorbed by neuronophags. I have myself studied M. Manouélian’s
preparations and can testify to the accuracy of his observations (Figs. 6 and
7).
Doubt is no longer possible. In senile degeneration the nerve-cells are
surrounded by neuronophags which absorb their contents and bring about
more or less complete atrophy. It has been supposed that in order to devour
their contents, the neuronophags must penetrate the nerve-cells, and such an
event has rarely been seen. But it is well known, the phagocytosis of red
blood corpuscles being a typical instance, that to absorb a cell a phagocyte
does not necessarily engulf it bodily or penetrate it, but may gradually
denude it of its contents merely by resting in contact with it.
There has been some discussion as to the condition of nerve-cells which are
on the point of being devoured by neuronophags. It has been noticed that
such cells may display a considerable amount of degeneration without
being devoured, whilst, on the other hand, cells apparently normal have
been found undergoing phagocytosis. As I cannot state definitely what are
the conditions that induce the phagocytosis of nerve-cells, I shall not
attempt a discussion of the problem.
Although the destruction of nerve-cells by neuronophags is a general
occurrence in senile brains, one may conceive of cases where this does not
occur. And so, in old people who have preserved their faculties, it may well
be that the neuronophags have refrained from attacking the nerve-cells. But
as such instances are rare, so also phagocytosis is usually found in senile
Page 33
brains, and I cannot accept M. Sand’s denial of its existence, based on his
study of two cases.
Fig. 6. Fig. 7.
FIGS. 6. & 7.—Two nerve-cells from the cortex of the brain of an old dog aged fifteen years.
The neuronophags surrounding the nerve-cells contain numerous granulations.
(From preparations made by M. Manouélian.)
The general result of my investigation into the criticisms that have been
published on this matter has confirmed me in my belief that neuronophagy
plays a most important part in senescence, and recent observations that I
have made with M. Weinberg have completely supported this view.
The bleaching of hair and the atrophy of the brain in old age thus furnish
important arguments against the view that senescence is the result of arrest
of the reproductive powers of cells. Hairs grow old and become white
without ceasing to grow. The cessation of the power of reproduction cannot
be the cause of the senescence of brain-cells, for these cells do not
reproduce even in youth.
study of two cases.
Fig. 6. Fig. 7.
FIGS. 6. & 7.—Two nerve-cells from the cortex of the brain of an old dog aged fifteen years.
The neuronophags surrounding the nerve-cells contain numerous granulations.
(From preparations made by M. Manouélian.)
The general result of my investigation into the criticisms that have been
published on this matter has confirmed me in my belief that neuronophagy
plays a most important part in senescence, and recent observations that I
have made with M. Weinberg have completely supported this view.
The bleaching of hair and the atrophy of the brain in old age thus furnish
important arguments against the view that senescence is the result of arrest
of the reproductive powers of cells. Hairs grow old and become white
without ceasing to grow. The cessation of the power of reproduction cannot
be the cause of the senescence of brain-cells, for these cells do not
reproduce even in youth.
Page 34
III
MECHANISM OF SENILITY
Action of the macrophags in destroying the higher cells—Senile degeneration of muscular
fibres—Atrophy of the skeleton—Atheroma and arterial sclerosis—Theory that old age is
due to alteration in the vascular glands—Organic tissues that resist phagocytosis
The instances which I have selected in attempting to describe the
mechanism of senescence of the tissues are not the only cases in which the
importance of phagocytosis is evident. The blanching of hair is due to the
destructive agency of chromophags; in atrophy of the brain neuronophags
destroy the higher nerve-cells. In addition to these instances of
phagocytosis, in which the active agents belong to the category of
macrophags, there are many other devouring cells, adrift in the tissues of
the aged, and ready to cause destruction of other cells of the higher type.
The phagocytic action is not so manifest as in the case of infectious
diseases, partly because it is the method of macrophags to absorb the
contents of the higher cells extremely slowly. The mode of action is well
seen in the atrophy of an egg-cell (Fig. 8), where the surrounding
macrophags gradually seize hold of the granules within it and carry these
off. As the process goes on, the ovum becomes reduced to a shapeless mass,
and finally leaves only a few fragments, or disappears completely. M.
Matchinsky14 has studied the series of events in my laboratory, and I am
myself well assured of the importance of the action of macrophags in the
atrophy of the ovary.
MECHANISM OF SENILITY
Action of the macrophags in destroying the higher cells—Senile degeneration of muscular
fibres—Atrophy of the skeleton—Atheroma and arterial sclerosis—Theory that old age is
due to alteration in the vascular glands—Organic tissues that resist phagocytosis
The instances which I have selected in attempting to describe the
mechanism of senescence of the tissues are not the only cases in which the
importance of phagocytosis is evident. The blanching of hair is due to the
destructive agency of chromophags; in atrophy of the brain neuronophags
destroy the higher nerve-cells. In addition to these instances of
phagocytosis, in which the active agents belong to the category of
macrophags, there are many other devouring cells, adrift in the tissues of
the aged, and ready to cause destruction of other cells of the higher type.
The phagocytic action is not so manifest as in the case of infectious
diseases, partly because it is the method of macrophags to absorb the
contents of the higher cells extremely slowly. The mode of action is well
seen in the atrophy of an egg-cell (Fig. 8), where the surrounding
macrophags gradually seize hold of the granules within it and carry these
off. As the process goes on, the ovum becomes reduced to a shapeless mass,
and finally leaves only a few fragments, or disappears completely. M.
Matchinsky14 has studied the series of events in my laboratory, and I am
myself well assured of the importance of the action of macrophags in the
atrophy of the ovary.
Page 35
Fig. 8.—Ovum of a Bitch in process of destruction by Phagocytes,
which are full of fatty granules.
(After M. Matchinsky.)
The phenomena of atrophy in general and of senile decay afford other cases
of tissue destruction in which the phagocytic character of the process is
more modified and obscure than in nerve-cells and ova.
It is well known that progressive muscular debility is an accompaniment of
old age. Physical work is seldom given to men over sixty years of age, as it
is notorious that they are less capable of it. Their muscular movements are
feebler and soon bring on fatigue; their actions are slow and painful. Even
old men whose mental vigour is unimpaired admit their muscular weakness.
The physical correlate of this condition is an actual atrophy of the muscles,
and has for long been known to observers. More than half a century ago,
Kölliker,15 one of the founders of histology, devoted some attention to this
matter, and described the senile modification of muscular tissue in the
following words:—“In old age there is a true atrophy of the muscles. The
fibres are much more slender; there are deposited in their substance
numerous yellow or brown granules and many globular nuclei. These nuclei
which are full of fatty granules.
(After M. Matchinsky.)
The phenomena of atrophy in general and of senile decay afford other cases
of tissue destruction in which the phagocytic character of the process is
more modified and obscure than in nerve-cells and ova.
It is well known that progressive muscular debility is an accompaniment of
old age. Physical work is seldom given to men over sixty years of age, as it
is notorious that they are less capable of it. Their muscular movements are
feebler and soon bring on fatigue; their actions are slow and painful. Even
old men whose mental vigour is unimpaired admit their muscular weakness.
The physical correlate of this condition is an actual atrophy of the muscles,
and has for long been known to observers. More than half a century ago,
Kölliker,15 one of the founders of histology, devoted some attention to this
matter, and described the senile modification of muscular tissue in the
following words:—“In old age there is a true atrophy of the muscles. The
fibres are much more slender; there are deposited in their substance
numerous yellow or brown granules and many globular nuclei. These nuclei
Page 36
are frequently arranged in longitudinal series and present such signs of
active division as are found in embryonic tissue.”
Other investigators afterwards made similar observations. Vulpian16 and
Douaud17 have stated that a multiplication of nuclei takes places in the
atrophying muscles of the old.
As the senile degeneration of muscular tissue appeared to be important in
my study of the mechanism of senescence, M. Weinberg and I examined
several cases of muscular atrophy in old human beings and lower animals.
We were able to recognise the phenomena observed by our predecessors. In
senile atrophy the muscular fibres contain many nuclei, and these,
increasing rapidly, bring about an almost complete disappearance of the
contractile substance (Fig. 9). The fibres preserve their striation for a certain
time but eventually lose it and appear to contain an amorphous mass with
numerous, rapidly multiplying nuclei.
active division as are found in embryonic tissue.”
Other investigators afterwards made similar observations. Vulpian16 and
Douaud17 have stated that a multiplication of nuclei takes places in the
atrophying muscles of the old.
As the senile degeneration of muscular tissue appeared to be important in
my study of the mechanism of senescence, M. Weinberg and I examined
several cases of muscular atrophy in old human beings and lower animals.
We were able to recognise the phenomena observed by our predecessors. In
senile atrophy the muscular fibres contain many nuclei, and these,
increasing rapidly, bring about an almost complete disappearance of the
contractile substance (Fig. 9). The fibres preserve their striation for a certain
time but eventually lose it and appear to contain an amorphous mass with
numerous, rapidly multiplying nuclei.
Page 37
Fig. 9.—Degeneration of striated muscle Fibres from the auricular
muscle of a man aged 87 years.
(From a preparation made by Dr. Weinberg.)
The investigators who had recorded these facts thought of them only as
curious. It is plain, in the first place, however, that this remarkable and rapid
multiplication is a proof that senile atrophy is not due to failure of cell
proliferation, although the latter has frequently been suggested as the
mechanism of senescence. In muscular atrophy, cell multiplication, so far
from failing, greatly increases. We may add muscular atrophy to the
blanching of hair and the decay of nerve-cells as another instance showing
that senile degeneration is not the result of cells ceasing to be able to
multiply. Just as in the atrophy of the brain there is an increase in the
volume of neuroglœa, the substance in which the neuronophags are found,
so also in the atrophy of the muscles there is an increase of muscular nuclei.
Along with the increase of nuclei, however, there is an increase of the
protoplasmic substance of the fibres known as sarcoplasm. The latter
replaces the myoplasm, the specific striated substance of muscles, by a
process which must be regarded as parallel with phagocytosis. In a normal
muscle the two substances and the sarcoplasmic nuclei are in equilibrium,
but in old age the sarcoplasm and its nuclei increase at the expense of the
myoplasm. The equilibrium is destroyed with the result that the muscular
power is weakened. In these conditions the sarcoplasm acts phagocytically
with regard to the myoplasm, just as the chromophag becomes the
phagocyte of the pigment of the hair, or the neuronophag devours the nerve-
cell.
The investigation of other cases of muscular atrophy, as, for instance, that
of the caudal muscles of frog-tadpoles, confirms the significance of the
process that I have observed in old age. In the two cases, what takes place is
the destruction of the contractile material of the muscles by myophags, a
special kind of phagocyte.
It is one of the curiosities of senile atrophy that whilst there is hardening or
sclerosis of so many organs, the skeleton, the most solid part of our frame-
work, becomes less dense, so that the bones are friable, the condition often
leading to serious accidents in old people. The bones become porous, and
lose weight. It is difficult to believe that macrophags, although they destroy
muscle of a man aged 87 years.
(From a preparation made by Dr. Weinberg.)
The investigators who had recorded these facts thought of them only as
curious. It is plain, in the first place, however, that this remarkable and rapid
multiplication is a proof that senile atrophy is not due to failure of cell
proliferation, although the latter has frequently been suggested as the
mechanism of senescence. In muscular atrophy, cell multiplication, so far
from failing, greatly increases. We may add muscular atrophy to the
blanching of hair and the decay of nerve-cells as another instance showing
that senile degeneration is not the result of cells ceasing to be able to
multiply. Just as in the atrophy of the brain there is an increase in the
volume of neuroglœa, the substance in which the neuronophags are found,
so also in the atrophy of the muscles there is an increase of muscular nuclei.
Along with the increase of nuclei, however, there is an increase of the
protoplasmic substance of the fibres known as sarcoplasm. The latter
replaces the myoplasm, the specific striated substance of muscles, by a
process which must be regarded as parallel with phagocytosis. In a normal
muscle the two substances and the sarcoplasmic nuclei are in equilibrium,
but in old age the sarcoplasm and its nuclei increase at the expense of the
myoplasm. The equilibrium is destroyed with the result that the muscular
power is weakened. In these conditions the sarcoplasm acts phagocytically
with regard to the myoplasm, just as the chromophag becomes the
phagocyte of the pigment of the hair, or the neuronophag devours the nerve-
cell.
The investigation of other cases of muscular atrophy, as, for instance, that
of the caudal muscles of frog-tadpoles, confirms the significance of the
process that I have observed in old age. In the two cases, what takes place is
the destruction of the contractile material of the muscles by myophags, a
special kind of phagocyte.
It is one of the curiosities of senile atrophy that whilst there is hardening or
sclerosis of so many organs, the skeleton, the most solid part of our frame-
work, becomes less dense, so that the bones are friable, the condition often
leading to serious accidents in old people. The bones become porous, and
lose weight. It is difficult to believe that macrophags, although they destroy
Page 38
softer elements such as nerve-cells or muscle fibres, can be able to gnaw
through a hard material like bone impregnated with mineral salts. As a
matter of fact, the mechanism of bone atrophy must be placed in a different
category from the phagocytosis of other organs. It is brought about,
however, by the agency of cells very like some of the macrophags. These
cells contain many nuclei, and are known as osteoclasts. They form round
about the bony lamellæ and lead to their destruction, but are incapable of
breaking off fragments of bone and dissolving them in their interiors.
Although the intimate mechanism of this destructive action is not
thoroughly understood, it seems probable that the cells secrete some acid
which softens bone by dissolving the lime salts. The process can be
observed in the different varieties of caries of the bone, and in the bony
atrophy of old age as is represented in Fig. 10.
By the action of the osteoclasts, which themselves are macrophags, part of
the lime in the skeleton is dissolved during old age and passes into the
general circulation. This is probably a source of the lime which is deposited
so readily in the different tissues of old people. Whilst the bones become
lighter, the cartilages become bony, the inter-vertebrate discs in particular
becoming impregnated with salts, so that the well-known senile
malformation of the backbone is produced.
Fig. 10.—Destruction by osteoclasts of bony matter in the
sternum of a man aged 81 years.
(From a preparation made by Dr. Weinberg.)
As a result of this displacement of lime in old age, the blood-vessels
become modified in a distinctive fashion. Atheroma of the arteries is not
through a hard material like bone impregnated with mineral salts. As a
matter of fact, the mechanism of bone atrophy must be placed in a different
category from the phagocytosis of other organs. It is brought about,
however, by the agency of cells very like some of the macrophags. These
cells contain many nuclei, and are known as osteoclasts. They form round
about the bony lamellæ and lead to their destruction, but are incapable of
breaking off fragments of bone and dissolving them in their interiors.
Although the intimate mechanism of this destructive action is not
thoroughly understood, it seems probable that the cells secrete some acid
which softens bone by dissolving the lime salts. The process can be
observed in the different varieties of caries of the bone, and in the bony
atrophy of old age as is represented in Fig. 10.
By the action of the osteoclasts, which themselves are macrophags, part of
the lime in the skeleton is dissolved during old age and passes into the
general circulation. This is probably a source of the lime which is deposited
so readily in the different tissues of old people. Whilst the bones become
lighter, the cartilages become bony, the inter-vertebrate discs in particular
becoming impregnated with salts, so that the well-known senile
malformation of the backbone is produced.
Fig. 10.—Destruction by osteoclasts of bony matter in the
sternum of a man aged 81 years.
(From a preparation made by Dr. Weinberg.)
As a result of this displacement of lime in old age, the blood-vessels
become modified in a distinctive fashion. Atheroma of the arteries is not
Page 39
invariable in old people, but it occurs extremely frequently. In this form of
degeneration, lime salts are deposited in the walls of the cells, so that they
become hard and friable. Several others, among whom I may mention
Durand-Fardel and Sauvage, have laid stress on the coincidence of
atheromatous lesions of the arteries and senile degeneration of the bones.
The relations between the two alterations are very evident in the skull; the
meningeal artery becomes sinuous and atheromatous, and the grooves on
the inner side of the bones of the skull in which it runs, flatten out, and
become larger because of other malformations.18
There is no disharmony in the nature of old people so striking as this
transference of the lime salts from the skeleton to the blood-vessels,
producing as it does a dangerous softening of the former, and a hardening of
the latter that interferes with their function of carrying nutrition to the
organs. It is the manifestation of an extraordinary disturbance of the
properties of the cells that compose the body. The atheromatous condition
of the arteries is closely linked with arterial sclerosis, an affection which is
very common, although not constant, in the aged. The whole question of
these vascular alterations is extremely complex, and before it can be cleared
up, a number of special investigations must be made.
Probably diseases of the arteries of different kinds, and arising from
different causes, are grouped under the terms atheroma and sclerosis. In
some cases the lesions are inflammatory and are due to the poisons of
microbes. An example of such an origin is the case of syphilitic sclerosis, in
which the specific microbes (spirilla of Schaudinn) lead to precocious
senescence. In other cases the arteries show phenomena of degeneration
resulting in the formation of calcareous platelets which interfere with the
circulation of the blood.
Investigations which have been made in recent years have led to very
interesting results concerning the origin of atheroma of the arteries. In most
cases, attempts to produce such lesions of the arteries by experimental
methods have not succeeded, but M. Josué19 has been able to produce true
arterial atheroma in rabbits by injecting into them adrenaline, the secretion
of the supra-renal capsules.
This experiment has been repeated many times and is now well known.
Later on, M. Boveri20 obtained a similar result by injecting nicotine, the
degeneration, lime salts are deposited in the walls of the cells, so that they
become hard and friable. Several others, among whom I may mention
Durand-Fardel and Sauvage, have laid stress on the coincidence of
atheromatous lesions of the arteries and senile degeneration of the bones.
The relations between the two alterations are very evident in the skull; the
meningeal artery becomes sinuous and atheromatous, and the grooves on
the inner side of the bones of the skull in which it runs, flatten out, and
become larger because of other malformations.18
There is no disharmony in the nature of old people so striking as this
transference of the lime salts from the skeleton to the blood-vessels,
producing as it does a dangerous softening of the former, and a hardening of
the latter that interferes with their function of carrying nutrition to the
organs. It is the manifestation of an extraordinary disturbance of the
properties of the cells that compose the body. The atheromatous condition
of the arteries is closely linked with arterial sclerosis, an affection which is
very common, although not constant, in the aged. The whole question of
these vascular alterations is extremely complex, and before it can be cleared
up, a number of special investigations must be made.
Probably diseases of the arteries of different kinds, and arising from
different causes, are grouped under the terms atheroma and sclerosis. In
some cases the lesions are inflammatory and are due to the poisons of
microbes. An example of such an origin is the case of syphilitic sclerosis, in
which the specific microbes (spirilla of Schaudinn) lead to precocious
senescence. In other cases the arteries show phenomena of degeneration
resulting in the formation of calcareous platelets which interfere with the
circulation of the blood.
Investigations which have been made in recent years have led to very
interesting results concerning the origin of atheroma of the arteries. In most
cases, attempts to produce such lesions of the arteries by experimental
methods have not succeeded, but M. Josué19 has been able to produce true
arterial atheroma in rabbits by injecting into them adrenaline, the secretion
of the supra-renal capsules.
This experiment has been repeated many times and is now well known.
Later on, M. Boveri20 obtained a similar result by injecting nicotine, the
Page 40
poison of tobacco. It is obvious, therefore, that amongst the arterial diseases
which play so great a part in senescence, some are chronic inflammations
produced by microbes, whilst others are brought about by poisons
introduced from without.
It is easy to understand, therefore, why these diseases of the arteries are not
always present in old age, although they are very common.
The part played by the secretion of the supra-renal glands in the production
of arterial disease has brought renewed attention to a theory which
supposed that certain glandular organs in the body play a preponderating
part in senile degeneration. Dr. Lorand21 in particular has argued that
“senility is a morbid process due to the degeneration of the thyroid gland
and of other ductless glands which normally regulate the nutrition of the
body.” It has long been noticed that persons affected with myxodema, as a
result of the degeneration of the thyroid gland, look like very old people.
Everyone who has seen the cretins in Savoy, Switzerland, or the Tyrol, must
have noticed the aged appearance of these victims, although very often they
are quite young. The condition of cretinism, with its profound bodily
changes, is the result of degeneration of the thyroid gland. On the other
hand, it is well known that in old people the thyroid and the supra-renals
frequently show cystic degeneration. It is quite probable, therefore, that
these so-called vascular glands have their share in producing senility. Many
facts show that they destroy certain poisons which have entered the body,
and it is easy to see that, if they have become functionless, the tissues are
threatened with poisoning. It does not follow, however, that their action in
producing senility is exclusive, or even preponderating. M. Weinberg, at the
Pasteur Institute, made special investigations on this point, and found that
the thyroid gland and the supra-renal capsules were almost invariably
normal in old animals (cat, dog, horse), although the latter showed
unmistakable signs of senility. Similarly in an old man of 80 years, who
died from pneumonia, the thyroid gland was quite normal.
It must not be forgotten that the aged very often die from infectious diseases
such as pneumonia, tuberculosis, and erysipelas. In these diseases the
vascular glands generally, and the thyroid gland in particular, are very often
affected, with the result that what is due to infection has been set down as a
symptom of old age.22
which play so great a part in senescence, some are chronic inflammations
produced by microbes, whilst others are brought about by poisons
introduced from without.
It is easy to understand, therefore, why these diseases of the arteries are not
always present in old age, although they are very common.
The part played by the secretion of the supra-renal glands in the production
of arterial disease has brought renewed attention to a theory which
supposed that certain glandular organs in the body play a preponderating
part in senile degeneration. Dr. Lorand21 in particular has argued that
“senility is a morbid process due to the degeneration of the thyroid gland
and of other ductless glands which normally regulate the nutrition of the
body.” It has long been noticed that persons affected with myxodema, as a
result of the degeneration of the thyroid gland, look like very old people.
Everyone who has seen the cretins in Savoy, Switzerland, or the Tyrol, must
have noticed the aged appearance of these victims, although very often they
are quite young. The condition of cretinism, with its profound bodily
changes, is the result of degeneration of the thyroid gland. On the other
hand, it is well known that in old people the thyroid and the supra-renals
frequently show cystic degeneration. It is quite probable, therefore, that
these so-called vascular glands have their share in producing senility. Many
facts show that they destroy certain poisons which have entered the body,
and it is easy to see that, if they have become functionless, the tissues are
threatened with poisoning. It does not follow, however, that their action in
producing senility is exclusive, or even preponderating. M. Weinberg, at the
Pasteur Institute, made special investigations on this point, and found that
the thyroid gland and the supra-renal capsules were almost invariably
normal in old animals (cat, dog, horse), although the latter showed
unmistakable signs of senility. Similarly in an old man of 80 years, who
died from pneumonia, the thyroid gland was quite normal.
It must not be forgotten that the aged very often die from infectious diseases
such as pneumonia, tuberculosis, and erysipelas. In these diseases the
vascular glands generally, and the thyroid gland in particular, are very often
affected, with the result that what is due to infection has been set down as a
symptom of old age.22
Page 41
Although the appearance of patients from whom the thyroid gland has been
removed, or in whom it has degenerated spontaneously, recalls that of old
people, it is possible to exaggerate the similarity. In the masterly accounts
of such unfortunates, recently compiled by the well-known surgeon
Kocher23 there are many points which are characteristic, without being
typical, of old people.
Oedema of the skin which characterises thyroid patients is by no means
usual in old age. The loss of hair, normal in the patients, is not a character
of old age. In myxedematous women, menstruation is very active; it ceases
in old women. The great muscular development of myxedematous patients
distinguishes them from old people.
Physiological investigation does not support the existence of any strong
affinity between old age and affection of the thyroid gland. It is known that
removal of the thyroid is followed by cachexia only in young subjects, MM.
Bourneville and Bricon24 having shown that the tendency to cachexia after
extirpation of the thyroid ceases almost abruptly at the age of thirty. That
age may be taken as the limit of youth, of the time when growth is vigorous
and the function of the thyroid most active. Cases of cachexia, where the
thyroid gland has been removed in old persons from fifty to seventy, are
very rare.
Rodents (rats, rabbits) support the removal of the thyroid extremely well,
without signs of cachexia, although these are normally short-lived creatures.
According to Horsley25 extirpation of the thyroid is not followed by
cachexia in birds or rodents and is followed by it only very slowly in
ruminants and horses; it produces the condition invariably but slightly in
man and monkeys and extremely seriously in carnivora. If this series be
compared with the information given in the next section of this volume on
the relative ages which the animals in question attain, it will be seen that
there is no correspondence.
In short, whilst I do not deny that the vascular glands may take a share in
the causation of senility, in so far as they are destroyers of poisons, I cannot
agree with the theory of Dr. Lorand.
I think it indubitable that in senescence the most active factor is some
alteration in the higher cells of the body, accompanied by a destruction of
these by macrophags which gradually usurp the places of the higher
removed, or in whom it has degenerated spontaneously, recalls that of old
people, it is possible to exaggerate the similarity. In the masterly accounts
of such unfortunates, recently compiled by the well-known surgeon
Kocher23 there are many points which are characteristic, without being
typical, of old people.
Oedema of the skin which characterises thyroid patients is by no means
usual in old age. The loss of hair, normal in the patients, is not a character
of old age. In myxedematous women, menstruation is very active; it ceases
in old women. The great muscular development of myxedematous patients
distinguishes them from old people.
Physiological investigation does not support the existence of any strong
affinity between old age and affection of the thyroid gland. It is known that
removal of the thyroid is followed by cachexia only in young subjects, MM.
Bourneville and Bricon24 having shown that the tendency to cachexia after
extirpation of the thyroid ceases almost abruptly at the age of thirty. That
age may be taken as the limit of youth, of the time when growth is vigorous
and the function of the thyroid most active. Cases of cachexia, where the
thyroid gland has been removed in old persons from fifty to seventy, are
very rare.
Rodents (rats, rabbits) support the removal of the thyroid extremely well,
without signs of cachexia, although these are normally short-lived creatures.
According to Horsley25 extirpation of the thyroid is not followed by
cachexia in birds or rodents and is followed by it only very slowly in
ruminants and horses; it produces the condition invariably but slightly in
man and monkeys and extremely seriously in carnivora. If this series be
compared with the information given in the next section of this volume on
the relative ages which the animals in question attain, it will be seen that
there is no correspondence.
In short, whilst I do not deny that the vascular glands may take a share in
the causation of senility, in so far as they are destroyers of poisons, I cannot
agree with the theory of Dr. Lorand.
I think it indubitable that in senescence the most active factor is some
alteration in the higher cells of the body, accompanied by a destruction of
these by macrophags which gradually usurp the places of the higher
Page 42
elements and replace them by fibrous tissue. Such a process affects the
organs of secretion (kidneys), the reproductive organs, and in a modified
form the skin, the mucous membranes, and the skeleton. The testes are
amongst the organs which resist invasion by macrophags. I have already
given an example (“The Nature of Man,” p. 98)
of an old man of 94 in whom active
spermatozoa were produced. I know of a similar
case, the age being 103 years. Such cases are not
rare, and not only in old men, but in old animals,
the testes continue to be active. Dr. Weinberg
and I have investigated these organs in a dog
which died at the age of 22 years after several
years of pronounced senility. Many of the
organs of the animal exhibited serious invasions Fig. 11.—Testis tissue from a
by macrophags but the testes were extremely dog aged twenty-two years.
active, the cells being in free proliferation and (From a preparation made by Dr.
producing abundant spermatozoa (Fig. 11). In Weinberg.)
harmony with this condition of the sexual
organs, the sexual instincts of the animal remained normal. We have
investigated another dog which died at the age of eighteen years. In this
case the testes were cancerous and there was no possibility of the
production of spermatozoa. None the less, this dog although markedly
senile (Fig. 12) still showed sexual instincts until shortly before it died.
organs of secretion (kidneys), the reproductive organs, and in a modified
form the skin, the mucous membranes, and the skeleton. The testes are
amongst the organs which resist invasion by macrophags. I have already
given an example (“The Nature of Man,” p. 98)
of an old man of 94 in whom active
spermatozoa were produced. I know of a similar
case, the age being 103 years. Such cases are not
rare, and not only in old men, but in old animals,
the testes continue to be active. Dr. Weinberg
and I have investigated these organs in a dog
which died at the age of 22 years after several
years of pronounced senility. Many of the
organs of the animal exhibited serious invasions Fig. 11.—Testis tissue from a
by macrophags but the testes were extremely dog aged twenty-two years.
active, the cells being in free proliferation and (From a preparation made by Dr.
producing abundant spermatozoa (Fig. 11). In Weinberg.)
harmony with this condition of the sexual
organs, the sexual instincts of the animal remained normal. We have
investigated another dog which died at the age of eighteen years. In this
case the testes were cancerous and there was no possibility of the
production of spermatozoa. None the less, this dog although markedly
senile (Fig. 12) still showed sexual instincts until shortly before it died.
Page 43
Fig. 12.—An old dog, aged eighteen years.
It is manifest that the tissues do not invariably degenerate in old age, nor do
all the organs that are modified in old age show destruction by phagocytes
and replacement by connective tissue. Organs which produce phagocytes,
such as the spleen, the spinal marrow and the lymphatic glands, certainly
show traces in old age of fibrous degeneration but remain sufficiently active
to produce macrophags which destroy the higher cellular elements of the
body. I have frequently noticed cell division in such organs, and as an
example may give the case of the bone marrow taken from a man of 81
years (Fig. 13).
The eye is an organ that is modified in old age without the action of
macrophags. Cataract and the senile arc which appears as a milky ring at
the edge of the cornea are frequent in old age. These modifications are due
to impregnation of the parts affected by fatty matter which makes them
opaque. This deposition of fat26 has been attributed to defective nutrition. In
most organs such fatty degeneration is followed by phagocytosis, but the
cornea and the crystalline lens are exempt from this consequence for
anatomical reasons. Most organs possess in addition to their higher
elements a constant source of macrophags. Such a source of phagocytosis is
the neuroglœa in nervous tissues, the sarcoplasm in muscular tissues; the
bones contain osteoclasts and the liver and the kidneys are readily invaded
It is manifest that the tissues do not invariably degenerate in old age, nor do
all the organs that are modified in old age show destruction by phagocytes
and replacement by connective tissue. Organs which produce phagocytes,
such as the spleen, the spinal marrow and the lymphatic glands, certainly
show traces in old age of fibrous degeneration but remain sufficiently active
to produce macrophags which destroy the higher cellular elements of the
body. I have frequently noticed cell division in such organs, and as an
example may give the case of the bone marrow taken from a man of 81
years (Fig. 13).
The eye is an organ that is modified in old age without the action of
macrophags. Cataract and the senile arc which appears as a milky ring at
the edge of the cornea are frequent in old age. These modifications are due
to impregnation of the parts affected by fatty matter which makes them
opaque. This deposition of fat26 has been attributed to defective nutrition. In
most organs such fatty degeneration is followed by phagocytosis, but the
cornea and the crystalline lens are exempt from this consequence for
anatomical reasons. Most organs possess in addition to their higher
elements a constant source of macrophags. Such a source of phagocytosis is
the neuroglœa in nervous tissues, the sarcoplasm in muscular tissues; the
bones contain osteoclasts and the liver and the kidneys are readily invaded
Page 44
by phagocytes from the blood. The lens and the
cornea have no cells that are able to become
macrophags.
Some infectious diseases bring about precocious
senility. A syphilitic child is “a miniature old
man, with wrinkled face, skin dull and
discoloured and flabby and hanging in folds as
if it were too large.”27 In such a case the active
agent is the microbe of syphilis which has
poisoned the child on the breast of its mother. It Fig. 13.—Bone marrow from the
sternum of a man aged eighty-
is no mere analogy to suppose that human
one years.
senescence is the result of a slow but chronic
(From a preparation made by Dr.
poisoning of the organism. Such poisons, if not
Weinberg.)
completely destroyed or eliminated, weaken the
tissues, the functions of which become altered
or enfeebled, so that, amongst other changes, there is deposition of fatty
matter. The phagocytes resist the influence of invading poisons better than
any of the other cells of the body and sometimes are stimulated by them.
The general result of such conditions is that there comes to be a struggle
between the higher cells and the phagocytes in which the latter have the
advantage.
The answer to the question as to whether our senescence can be ameliorated
must be approached from several points of view. This course I shall now
follow.
cornea have no cells that are able to become
macrophags.
Some infectious diseases bring about precocious
senility. A syphilitic child is “a miniature old
man, with wrinkled face, skin dull and
discoloured and flabby and hanging in folds as
if it were too large.”27 In such a case the active
agent is the microbe of syphilis which has
poisoned the child on the breast of its mother. It Fig. 13.—Bone marrow from the
sternum of a man aged eighty-
is no mere analogy to suppose that human
one years.
senescence is the result of a slow but chronic
(From a preparation made by Dr.
poisoning of the organism. Such poisons, if not
Weinberg.)
completely destroyed or eliminated, weaken the
tissues, the functions of which become altered
or enfeebled, so that, amongst other changes, there is deposition of fatty
matter. The phagocytes resist the influence of invading poisons better than
any of the other cells of the body and sometimes are stimulated by them.
The general result of such conditions is that there comes to be a struggle
between the higher cells and the phagocytes in which the latter have the
advantage.
The answer to the question as to whether our senescence can be ameliorated
must be approached from several points of view. This course I shall now
follow.
Page 45
PART II
LONGEVITY IN THE ANIMAL KINGDOM
I
THEORIES OF LONGEVITY
Relation between longevity and size—Longevity and the period of growth—Longevity and
the doubling in weight after birth—Longevity and rate of reproduction—Probable relation
between longevity and the nature of the food
The duration of the life of animals varies within very wide limits. Some, as
for instance, the males of certain wheel animalculæ (Rotifera) complete
their cycle of life from birth to death in 50 or 60 hours, whilst others, like
some reptiles, live more than 100 years, and quite possibly may live for two
or three centuries.
Enquiry has been made for many years as to whether there are laws
governing these different durations of life. Even the most casual
observation of domesticated animals has shown that, as a general rule, small
animals do not live so long as large ones; mice, guinea pigs, and rabbits for
instance, have shorter lives than geese, ducks, and sheep, whilst these again
are survived by horses, deer, and camels. Of all the mammals which have
lived under the protection of man, the elephant is at once the largest, and the
most long-lived.
However, it is not difficult to show that there is no absolute relation
between size and longevity, since parrots, ravens, and geese live much
longer than many mammals, and than some much larger birds.
As a general rule it may be said that a large animal takes more time than a
small one to reach maturity, and it has been inferred from this that the
length of the periods of gestation and of growth were in proportion to the
longevity. Buffon28 long ago stated his opinion that the “total duration of
life bore some definite relation to the length of the period of growth.”
Therefore, as the period of growth is, so to say, inherent in the species,
longevity would have to be regarded as a very stable phenomenon. Just as
LONGEVITY IN THE ANIMAL KINGDOM
I
THEORIES OF LONGEVITY
Relation between longevity and size—Longevity and the period of growth—Longevity and
the doubling in weight after birth—Longevity and rate of reproduction—Probable relation
between longevity and the nature of the food
The duration of the life of animals varies within very wide limits. Some, as
for instance, the males of certain wheel animalculæ (Rotifera) complete
their cycle of life from birth to death in 50 or 60 hours, whilst others, like
some reptiles, live more than 100 years, and quite possibly may live for two
or three centuries.
Enquiry has been made for many years as to whether there are laws
governing these different durations of life. Even the most casual
observation of domesticated animals has shown that, as a general rule, small
animals do not live so long as large ones; mice, guinea pigs, and rabbits for
instance, have shorter lives than geese, ducks, and sheep, whilst these again
are survived by horses, deer, and camels. Of all the mammals which have
lived under the protection of man, the elephant is at once the largest, and the
most long-lived.
However, it is not difficult to show that there is no absolute relation
between size and longevity, since parrots, ravens, and geese live much
longer than many mammals, and than some much larger birds.
As a general rule it may be said that a large animal takes more time than a
small one to reach maturity, and it has been inferred from this that the
length of the periods of gestation and of growth were in proportion to the
longevity. Buffon28 long ago stated his opinion that the “total duration of
life bore some definite relation to the length of the period of growth.”
Therefore, as the period of growth is, so to say, inherent in the species,
longevity would have to be regarded as a very stable phenomenon. Just as
Page 46
any species has acquired a fixed and practically invariable size, so it would
have acquired a definite longevity. Buffon, therefore, thought that the
duration of life did not depend on habits or mode of life, or on the nature of
food, that, in fact, nothing could change its rigid laws, except an excess of
nourishment.
Taking as his standard the total period of development of the body, Buffon
came to the conclusion that the duration of life is six or seven times that of
the period of growth. Man, for instance, he said, who takes 14 years to
grow, can live 6 or 7 times that period, that is to say, 90 or 100 years. The
horse, which reaches its full size in 4 years, can live 6 or 7 times that length
of time, that is to say from 25 to 30 years. The stag takes 5 or 6 years to
grow, and reckoned in the same way, its longevity should be 35 to 40 years.
Flourens29 although supporting his principle, thought that Buffon had been
inexact in calculating the period of growth. In his opinion a better result can
be obtained by taking the limit of growth as that age at which the epiphyses
of the long bones unite with the bones themselves. Using such a mode of
computation, Flourens laid down that an animal lived 5 times the length of
its period of growth. Man, for instance, takes 20 years to grow, and he can
live for 5 times that space, that is to say, 100 years; the camel takes 8 to
grow, and lives 5 times as long, i.e., 40 years; the horse, 5 to grow, and lives
25 years.
However, even if we consider only the mammalia, it is impossible to accept
Flourens’ law, without considerable reserve. Weismann30 has referred to the
case of the horse, which is completely adult at 4, but lives not merely 5
times that period, but 10 or even 12 times. Mice grow extremely quickly, so
that they are able to reproduce at the age of 4 months. Even if we take 6
months as their period of growth, their longevity of 5 years is twice as long
as it would be according to the rule of Flourens. Amongst domesticated
animals, the sheep is slow in reaching maturity; it does not acquire its adult
set of teeth until it is 5 years old, and cannot be regarded as adult until then.
None the less, at the age of 8 or 10 years, it loses its teeth and begins to
grow old, whilst by 14 it is quite senile.31 The longevity of the sheep,
therefore, is not quite three times its period of growth.
If we turn to other vertebrates, the variations in the relation of growth and
the duration of life are still greater. Parrots, for instance, the longevity of
have acquired a definite longevity. Buffon, therefore, thought that the
duration of life did not depend on habits or mode of life, or on the nature of
food, that, in fact, nothing could change its rigid laws, except an excess of
nourishment.
Taking as his standard the total period of development of the body, Buffon
came to the conclusion that the duration of life is six or seven times that of
the period of growth. Man, for instance, he said, who takes 14 years to
grow, can live 6 or 7 times that period, that is to say, 90 or 100 years. The
horse, which reaches its full size in 4 years, can live 6 or 7 times that length
of time, that is to say from 25 to 30 years. The stag takes 5 or 6 years to
grow, and reckoned in the same way, its longevity should be 35 to 40 years.
Flourens29 although supporting his principle, thought that Buffon had been
inexact in calculating the period of growth. In his opinion a better result can
be obtained by taking the limit of growth as that age at which the epiphyses
of the long bones unite with the bones themselves. Using such a mode of
computation, Flourens laid down that an animal lived 5 times the length of
its period of growth. Man, for instance, takes 20 years to grow, and he can
live for 5 times that space, that is to say, 100 years; the camel takes 8 to
grow, and lives 5 times as long, i.e., 40 years; the horse, 5 to grow, and lives
25 years.
However, even if we consider only the mammalia, it is impossible to accept
Flourens’ law, without considerable reserve. Weismann30 has referred to the
case of the horse, which is completely adult at 4, but lives not merely 5
times that period, but 10 or even 12 times. Mice grow extremely quickly, so
that they are able to reproduce at the age of 4 months. Even if we take 6
months as their period of growth, their longevity of 5 years is twice as long
as it would be according to the rule of Flourens. Amongst domesticated
animals, the sheep is slow in reaching maturity; it does not acquire its adult
set of teeth until it is 5 years old, and cannot be regarded as adult until then.
None the less, at the age of 8 or 10 years, it loses its teeth and begins to
grow old, whilst by 14 it is quite senile.31 The longevity of the sheep,
therefore, is not quite three times its period of growth.
If we turn to other vertebrates, the variations in the relation of growth and
the duration of life are still greater. Parrots, for instance, the longevity of
Page 47
which is extremely great, grow very quickly. At the age of 2 years, they
have acquired the adult plumage and are able to reproduce, whilst the
smaller species are in the same condition at the age of one. Incubation,
moreover, is very short, not more than 25 days, and in some species not
three weeks. None the less, parrots are birds which enjoy a quite remarkable
longevity. The incubation period of domestic geese is 30 days, and their
period of growth is also short. However, they may reach a great age, cases
of 80 years and of 100 years being on record. In contrast with these,
ostriches, the incubation period of which is 42 to 49 days, and which take 3
years to become adult, have a relatively short life.
H. Milne-Edwards32 many years ago contended that there was no
importance in the supposed law of relation between gestation and longevity.
He sums up his criticism as follows: “Although the period of uterine life is
longer in the horse, that animal does not live so long as a human being; and
some birds, the incubation of which only lasts a few weeks, can live more
than a century.”
Bunge33 has recently taken up the study of the relations between the
duration of growth and longevity, and has suggested a new means of
investigation. He has observed that the period in which the new-born
mammal doubles its weight is a good index of the rapidity of its growth. He
has shown that whilst a human child requires 180 days to reach double its
weight at birth, the horse, the longevity of which is very much less, doubles
its weight in 60 days; a calf takes only 47 days for this; a kid 15 days; a pig
14 days; a cat 9-1/2; and a dog only 9 days. Although these facts are very
interesting, the exceptions are too great to make it possible to base a law of
longevity upon them. The period of weight-doubling in the horse is nearly 7
times longer than that in the dog, and yet the longevity of the horse is not
more than 3 times that of the dog. The goat, which takes much longer than
the dog to double its weight, has a shorter total life.
I observed myself that new-born mice quadruple their weight in the first 24
hours. The doubling of weight in their case requires a time 36 times less
long than that of the cat, and yet the cat lives only 5 times as long as the
mouse.
It is fair to say, however, that Bunge himself does not draw a definite
conclusion from these figures and has published them only to stimulate
have acquired the adult plumage and are able to reproduce, whilst the
smaller species are in the same condition at the age of one. Incubation,
moreover, is very short, not more than 25 days, and in some species not
three weeks. None the less, parrots are birds which enjoy a quite remarkable
longevity. The incubation period of domestic geese is 30 days, and their
period of growth is also short. However, they may reach a great age, cases
of 80 years and of 100 years being on record. In contrast with these,
ostriches, the incubation period of which is 42 to 49 days, and which take 3
years to become adult, have a relatively short life.
H. Milne-Edwards32 many years ago contended that there was no
importance in the supposed law of relation between gestation and longevity.
He sums up his criticism as follows: “Although the period of uterine life is
longer in the horse, that animal does not live so long as a human being; and
some birds, the incubation of which only lasts a few weeks, can live more
than a century.”
Bunge33 has recently taken up the study of the relations between the
duration of growth and longevity, and has suggested a new means of
investigation. He has observed that the period in which the new-born
mammal doubles its weight is a good index of the rapidity of its growth. He
has shown that whilst a human child requires 180 days to reach double its
weight at birth, the horse, the longevity of which is very much less, doubles
its weight in 60 days; a calf takes only 47 days for this; a kid 15 days; a pig
14 days; a cat 9-1/2; and a dog only 9 days. Although these facts are very
interesting, the exceptions are too great to make it possible to base a law of
longevity upon them. The period of weight-doubling in the horse is nearly 7
times longer than that in the dog, and yet the longevity of the horse is not
more than 3 times that of the dog. The goat, which takes much longer than
the dog to double its weight, has a shorter total life.
I observed myself that new-born mice quadruple their weight in the first 24
hours. The doubling of weight in their case requires a time 36 times less
long than that of the cat, and yet the cat lives only 5 times as long as the
mouse.
It is fair to say, however, that Bunge himself does not draw a definite
conclusion from these figures and has published them only to stimulate
Page 48
interest in the subject. He is against the view of Flourens, and points out
that although the multiple 5 is valid for man, it is not so in the case of the
horse which finishes its growth in 4 years and yet reaches the age of 40
much less often than human beings attain that of 100 years.
Although it is impossible to admit the existence of exact relations between
size and the period of growth on the one side, and longevity on the other, in
the mode which Buffon and Flourens have followed, it is none the less true
that there is something intrinsic in each kind of animal which sets a definite
limit to the length of years it can attain. The purely physiological conditions
which determine this limit leave room for a considerable amount of
variation in longevity. Duration of life therefore, is a character which can be
influenced by the environment. Weismann in his well-known essay on the
duration of life, has laid stress on this side of the problem. Longevity,
according to him, although in the last resort depending on the physiological
properties of the cells of which the organism is composed, can be adapted to
the conditions of existence and influenced by natural selection, like other
characters useful for the existence of the species.
If a species is to remain in existence, its members must be able to reproduce
and the progeny must be able to reach adult life so that they in their turn
may reproduce. Now, it happens that there are some animals the fecundity
of which is extremely limited. Most birds which are adapted to aerial life,
and the weight of which is therefore to be kept down, lay very few eggs.
This happens in the case of birds of prey, such as eagles and vultures. These
birds nest only once a year, and generally rear two or frequently only a
single nestling. In such circumstances the duration of life becomes a factor
in the preservation of the species, more important since eggs and chicks are
subject to many dangers. Eggs are devoured by many kinds of animals,
whilst unseasonable cold may kill the chicks. If the members of such a
species were incapable of living long, the unfavourable conditions of life
would soon lead to extinction. Those animals which reproduce rapidly
generally have a relatively brief duration of life. Mice, rats, rabbits, and
many other rodents seldom live more than 5 or 10 years, but reproduce with
enormous rapidity. It is almost possible to imagine that there is some sort of
intimate link, possibly physiological, between longevity and low fertility. It
is a current opinion that reproduction wastes the maternal organism and that
mothers of many children grow old prematurely and seldom reach an
that although the multiple 5 is valid for man, it is not so in the case of the
horse which finishes its growth in 4 years and yet reaches the age of 40
much less often than human beings attain that of 100 years.
Although it is impossible to admit the existence of exact relations between
size and the period of growth on the one side, and longevity on the other, in
the mode which Buffon and Flourens have followed, it is none the less true
that there is something intrinsic in each kind of animal which sets a definite
limit to the length of years it can attain. The purely physiological conditions
which determine this limit leave room for a considerable amount of
variation in longevity. Duration of life therefore, is a character which can be
influenced by the environment. Weismann in his well-known essay on the
duration of life, has laid stress on this side of the problem. Longevity,
according to him, although in the last resort depending on the physiological
properties of the cells of which the organism is composed, can be adapted to
the conditions of existence and influenced by natural selection, like other
characters useful for the existence of the species.
If a species is to remain in existence, its members must be able to reproduce
and the progeny must be able to reach adult life so that they in their turn
may reproduce. Now, it happens that there are some animals the fecundity
of which is extremely limited. Most birds which are adapted to aerial life,
and the weight of which is therefore to be kept down, lay very few eggs.
This happens in the case of birds of prey, such as eagles and vultures. These
birds nest only once a year, and generally rear two or frequently only a
single nestling. In such circumstances the duration of life becomes a factor
in the preservation of the species, more important since eggs and chicks are
subject to many dangers. Eggs are devoured by many kinds of animals,
whilst unseasonable cold may kill the chicks. If the members of such a
species were incapable of living long, the unfavourable conditions of life
would soon lead to extinction. Those animals which reproduce rapidly
generally have a relatively brief duration of life. Mice, rats, rabbits, and
many other rodents seldom live more than 5 or 10 years, but reproduce with
enormous rapidity. It is almost possible to imagine that there is some sort of
intimate link, possibly physiological, between longevity and low fertility. It
is a current opinion that reproduction wastes the maternal organism and that
mothers of many children grow old prematurely and seldom reach an
Page 49
advanced age. This would seem to mean that fecundity was the cause of the
short duration of life. However, we must guard ourselves against such a
theory. Longevity, at least in the case of vertebrate animals, differs
extremely little in the two sexes, although the cost of the new generation to
the adult organism is very much greater in the case of the female than of the
male parent. None the less, females frequently reach a great age, especially
in the human race where women reach 100 years, or live beyond that time,
much more often than men.
Low fertility, however, cannot itself be regarded as a cause of longevity, as
there are some very fertile animals which none the less attain great ages.
There are parrots which lay two or three times a year, producing six to nine
eggs in each clutch. The ducks (Anatidæ) are distinguished for considerable
longevity and very high fertility, each nest containing rarely less than six
and sometimes as many as sixteen eggs. The common Sheldrake lays from
twenty to thirty eggs. Tame ducks, in some parts of the tropics, lay an egg
daily throughout the season. Wild ducks lay from seven to fourteen eggs in
one nest. Ducks and geese, none the less, frequently attain considerable
ages, ducks having been known to live for 29 years. Even the common
fowl, which is a notoriously prolific bird, may reach an age of twenty to
thirty years.
It will be said, however, that these birds are exposed to many enemies
during youth. Chickens, ducklings, and goslings are ready prey for hawks,
foxes and small carnivora. The longevity is possibly to be explained as an
adaptation for the preservation of the species by compensating for the great
destruction of the young. Weismann explains in this way the longevity of
many aquatic birds and other creatures that are much preyed on. It must be
noted, however, that the longevity cannot depend on the risks run by the
young birds, but must have arisen independently. If this had not occurred,
creatures, the young of which are destroyed in great numbers, would have
ceased to exist, as many species have disappeared in geological time. The
longevity of prolific animals, the young of which are destroyed in numbers,
must be due to some cause which is neither fertility nor the destruction of
their offspring. This cause must be sought in the physiological processes of
the organism and can be attributed neither to the length of the period of
growth nor to the size attained by the adults.
short duration of life. However, we must guard ourselves against such a
theory. Longevity, at least in the case of vertebrate animals, differs
extremely little in the two sexes, although the cost of the new generation to
the adult organism is very much greater in the case of the female than of the
male parent. None the less, females frequently reach a great age, especially
in the human race where women reach 100 years, or live beyond that time,
much more often than men.
Low fertility, however, cannot itself be regarded as a cause of longevity, as
there are some very fertile animals which none the less attain great ages.
There are parrots which lay two or three times a year, producing six to nine
eggs in each clutch. The ducks (Anatidæ) are distinguished for considerable
longevity and very high fertility, each nest containing rarely less than six
and sometimes as many as sixteen eggs. The common Sheldrake lays from
twenty to thirty eggs. Tame ducks, in some parts of the tropics, lay an egg
daily throughout the season. Wild ducks lay from seven to fourteen eggs in
one nest. Ducks and geese, none the less, frequently attain considerable
ages, ducks having been known to live for 29 years. Even the common
fowl, which is a notoriously prolific bird, may reach an age of twenty to
thirty years.
It will be said, however, that these birds are exposed to many enemies
during youth. Chickens, ducklings, and goslings are ready prey for hawks,
foxes and small carnivora. The longevity is possibly to be explained as an
adaptation for the preservation of the species by compensating for the great
destruction of the young. Weismann explains in this way the longevity of
many aquatic birds and other creatures that are much preyed on. It must be
noted, however, that the longevity cannot depend on the risks run by the
young birds, but must have arisen independently. If this had not occurred,
creatures, the young of which are destroyed in great numbers, would have
ceased to exist, as many species have disappeared in geological time. The
longevity of prolific animals, the young of which are destroyed in numbers,
must be due to some cause which is neither fertility nor the destruction of
their offspring. This cause must be sought in the physiological processes of
the organism and can be attributed neither to the length of the period of
growth nor to the size attained by the adults.
Page 50
After having discussed various theories of the cause of the duration of life,
M. Oustalet,34 in a most interesting essay on the longevity of vertebrates,
came to the conclusion that diet was the chief factor. He thinks that there is
a “definite relation between diet and longevity. For the most part
herbivorous animals live longer than carnivorous forms, probably because
the former find their food with ease and regularity, whilst the latter alternate
between semi-starvation and repletion.” There are certainly many instances
which give support to the view. Elephants and parrots, for instance, are
vegetarian and reach very great ages. On the other hand, there exist long-
living carnivorous animals. Many observations have made it certain that
owls and eagles reach great ages, and these birds live on animal food.
Ravens, which live on carrion, are also notorious for the duration of their
lives. There is no exact knowledge as to the ages reached by crocodiles, but
although these live on flesh, it is certain that their longevity is great.
We must seek elsewhere for the real factors that control duration of life.
Before stating my conclusion, I will review what is known as to the
duration of life of different animals.
II.
LONGEVITY IN THE ANIMAL KINGDOM
Longevity in the lower animals—Instances of long life in sea-anemones and other
invertebrates—Duration of life of insects—Duration of life of “cold-blooded” vertebrates
—Duration of life of birds—Duration of life of mammals—Inequality of the duration of
life in males and females—Relations between longevity and fertility of the organism
It is wonderful to what an extent the duration of life varies amongst
animals, the slightest examination of the facts showing that very many
factors must be involved.
As the higher animals are nearly always larger than invertebrates, if there be
a definite relation between longevity and size, one would expect to find that
vertebrates live longer than invertebrates. However, this is not the case.
Amongst animals of extremely simple organisation, there are some which
reach a great age. A striking example of this is found in sea-anemones.
M. Oustalet,34 in a most interesting essay on the longevity of vertebrates,
came to the conclusion that diet was the chief factor. He thinks that there is
a “definite relation between diet and longevity. For the most part
herbivorous animals live longer than carnivorous forms, probably because
the former find their food with ease and regularity, whilst the latter alternate
between semi-starvation and repletion.” There are certainly many instances
which give support to the view. Elephants and parrots, for instance, are
vegetarian and reach very great ages. On the other hand, there exist long-
living carnivorous animals. Many observations have made it certain that
owls and eagles reach great ages, and these birds live on animal food.
Ravens, which live on carrion, are also notorious for the duration of their
lives. There is no exact knowledge as to the ages reached by crocodiles, but
although these live on flesh, it is certain that their longevity is great.
We must seek elsewhere for the real factors that control duration of life.
Before stating my conclusion, I will review what is known as to the
duration of life of different animals.
II.
LONGEVITY IN THE ANIMAL KINGDOM
Longevity in the lower animals—Instances of long life in sea-anemones and other
invertebrates—Duration of life of insects—Duration of life of “cold-blooded” vertebrates
—Duration of life of birds—Duration of life of mammals—Inequality of the duration of
life in males and females—Relations between longevity and fertility of the organism
It is wonderful to what an extent the duration of life varies amongst
animals, the slightest examination of the facts showing that very many
factors must be involved.
As the higher animals are nearly always larger than invertebrates, if there be
a definite relation between longevity and size, one would expect to find that
vertebrates live longer than invertebrates. However, this is not the case.
Amongst animals of extremely simple organisation, there are some which
reach a great age. A striking example of this is found in sea-anemones.
Page 51
These animals have a very simple structure, without a separate digestive
canal, and with a badly developed, diffused nervous system, and yet have
lived very long in captivity. More than forty years ago, I remember having
seen in the possession of M. Lloyd, the Director of the Aquarium at
Hamburg, an anemone that he had kept alive for several dozen years in a
glass bowl. Another sea-anemone, belonging to the species Actinia
mesembryanthemum, is known to have lived 66 years. It was captured in
1828 by Dalyell, a Scottish zoologist, and was then quite adult, and
probably about 7 years old. It survived its owner for 36 years, and died in
Edinburgh in 1887, the cause of death being unknown. Although they are
thus capable of living so long, the rate of growth of members of this species
is rapid, and their fertility is very high. According to Dalyell, these
anemones reach the adult condition in 15 months. The specimen in his
possession, in the 20 years from 1828 to 1848 produced 334 larvæ, then
after a period of sterility it gave birth, in one night (1857) to 230 young
anemones. This extraordinary prolificness decreased with age, but even
when it was 58 years old it used to produce from 5 to 20 at a time. In the
seven years from 1872 onwards, it gave birth to 150 young anemones.35
This animal, which certainly was not more than the fortieth or the fiftieth of
the weight of an adult rabbit, lived six or seven times as long.
Ashworth and Nelson Annandale have published their observations on
another sea-anemone, of the species Sagartia troglodytes, which was 50
years old. It differed from younger examples only in being less prolific.
There are other polyps, such as Flabellum, which do not live more than 24
years, although we have no knowledge as to the cause of the different
duration of life.
The variation in the length of the life of molluscs and insects is extremely
great. Some species of gasteropods (Vitrina, Succinea) live only a very few
years, whilst others (Natica heros) can reach thirty years. Some of the
marine bivalves, as for instance, Tridacna gigas, can live to sixty or a
hundred years.36
Insects are animals as variable in their duration of life as they are in other
respects. Some live only a few weeks; some of the plant-lice, for instance,
die in a month. In the same order of Insects, however, (Hemiptera) there are
species of cicada which live thirteen to seventeen years, that is to say, much
canal, and with a badly developed, diffused nervous system, and yet have
lived very long in captivity. More than forty years ago, I remember having
seen in the possession of M. Lloyd, the Director of the Aquarium at
Hamburg, an anemone that he had kept alive for several dozen years in a
glass bowl. Another sea-anemone, belonging to the species Actinia
mesembryanthemum, is known to have lived 66 years. It was captured in
1828 by Dalyell, a Scottish zoologist, and was then quite adult, and
probably about 7 years old. It survived its owner for 36 years, and died in
Edinburgh in 1887, the cause of death being unknown. Although they are
thus capable of living so long, the rate of growth of members of this species
is rapid, and their fertility is very high. According to Dalyell, these
anemones reach the adult condition in 15 months. The specimen in his
possession, in the 20 years from 1828 to 1848 produced 334 larvæ, then
after a period of sterility it gave birth, in one night (1857) to 230 young
anemones. This extraordinary prolificness decreased with age, but even
when it was 58 years old it used to produce from 5 to 20 at a time. In the
seven years from 1872 onwards, it gave birth to 150 young anemones.35
This animal, which certainly was not more than the fortieth or the fiftieth of
the weight of an adult rabbit, lived six or seven times as long.
Ashworth and Nelson Annandale have published their observations on
another sea-anemone, of the species Sagartia troglodytes, which was 50
years old. It differed from younger examples only in being less prolific.
There are other polyps, such as Flabellum, which do not live more than 24
years, although we have no knowledge as to the cause of the different
duration of life.
The variation in the length of the life of molluscs and insects is extremely
great. Some species of gasteropods (Vitrina, Succinea) live only a very few
years, whilst others (Natica heros) can reach thirty years. Some of the
marine bivalves, as for instance, Tridacna gigas, can live to sixty or a
hundred years.36
Insects are animals as variable in their duration of life as they are in other
respects. Some live only a few weeks; some of the plant-lice, for instance,
die in a month. In the same order of Insects, however, (Hemiptera) there are
species of cicada which live thirteen to seventeen years, that is to say, much
Page 52
longer than such little Rodents as rats, mice, and guinea-pigs. The larva of
an American species spends seventeen years buried in the ground in
orchards, where it feeds on the roots of apple trees, and the species is
known as Cicada septemdecim, because of this duration of life. In the adult
stage the insect lives little more than a month, just time enough to lay the
eggs, and bring into the world the new generation, which in its turn will not
appear above ground until after another period of seventeen years.
Between these extremes of long and short life, there is to be found amongst
insects almost every gradation of longevity. Science, in its present state, has
failed to find any law governing these facts. Rules which hold good up to a
certain point in the case of the higher animals break down in their
application to insects. The large grasshoppers and locusts, for instance, live
a much shorter time than many minute beetles. Queen bees, the fertility of
which is very great, live two or three years and may reach a fifth year,
whilst worker bees, which are infertile, die in the first year of their
existence. Female ants, although these are small and extremely prolific,
reach the age of seven years.37
We know so little about the physiological processes of insects, that we
cannot as yet make even a guess at the cause of this great variation in their
longevity. It is more probable that we shall find some explanation in the
case of vertebrates concerning which we know much more.
Analysis of the facts shows that whilst in the evolution from fish to
mammal there has been a great increase in complexity of organisation, there
has at the same time been a reduction in the duration of life. As a general
rule, it may be laid down that the lower vertebrates live longer than
mammals.
The facts about the longevity of fish are not very numerous, but it seems
clear that these animals reach a great age. The ancient Romans, who used to
keep eels in aquaria, have noted that these fish would live for more than
sixty years. There is reason to believe that salmon can live for a century,
whilst pike live much longer. There is, for instance, the much quoted
instance of the pike stated by Gessner to have been captured in 1230 and to
have lived for 267 years afterwards. Carps are regarded as equally long
lived, Buffon setting down their period of life as 150 years. There is a
popular idea that the carp in the lakes at Fontainebleau and Chantilly are
an American species spends seventeen years buried in the ground in
orchards, where it feeds on the roots of apple trees, and the species is
known as Cicada septemdecim, because of this duration of life. In the adult
stage the insect lives little more than a month, just time enough to lay the
eggs, and bring into the world the new generation, which in its turn will not
appear above ground until after another period of seventeen years.
Between these extremes of long and short life, there is to be found amongst
insects almost every gradation of longevity. Science, in its present state, has
failed to find any law governing these facts. Rules which hold good up to a
certain point in the case of the higher animals break down in their
application to insects. The large grasshoppers and locusts, for instance, live
a much shorter time than many minute beetles. Queen bees, the fertility of
which is very great, live two or three years and may reach a fifth year,
whilst worker bees, which are infertile, die in the first year of their
existence. Female ants, although these are small and extremely prolific,
reach the age of seven years.37
We know so little about the physiological processes of insects, that we
cannot as yet make even a guess at the cause of this great variation in their
longevity. It is more probable that we shall find some explanation in the
case of vertebrates concerning which we know much more.
Analysis of the facts shows that whilst in the evolution from fish to
mammal there has been a great increase in complexity of organisation, there
has at the same time been a reduction in the duration of life. As a general
rule, it may be laid down that the lower vertebrates live longer than
mammals.
The facts about the longevity of fish are not very numerous, but it seems
clear that these animals reach a great age. The ancient Romans, who used to
keep eels in aquaria, have noted that these fish would live for more than
sixty years. There is reason to believe that salmon can live for a century,
whilst pike live much longer. There is, for instance, the much quoted
instance of the pike stated by Gessner to have been captured in 1230 and to
have lived for 267 years afterwards. Carps are regarded as equally long
lived, Buffon setting down their period of life as 150 years. There is a
popular idea that the carp in the lakes at Fontainebleau and Chantilly are
Page 53
several centuries old, but E. Blanchard throws doubt on the accuracy of this
estimate, inasmuch as during revolutionary times most of the carp were
eaten when the palaces were overrun by the populace. There is no doubt,
however, that the life of carp may be very long indeed. Not very much is
known about the duration of life in batrachians, but it is certain at least that
some small frogs may live twelve or sixteen years, and toads as many as
thirty-six years.
More is known about the life of reptiles. Crocodiles and caymans, which
are large and which grow very slowly, attain great ages. In the Paris
Museum of Natural History there are crocodiles which have been kept for
more than forty years without showing signs of senescence. Turtles,
although they are smaller than crocodiles, live still longer. A tortoise has
lived for eighty years in the garden of the Governor of Cape Town, and is
believed to have reached the age of two hundred years. Another tortoise, a
native of the Galapagos Islands, is known to be 175 years old, whilst a
specimen in the London Zoological Gardens is 150 years old. A land
tortoise (Testudo marginata) has been kept in Norfolk, England, for a
century. I am informed that in the Archbishop’s palace at Canterbury, there
is to be seen the carapace of a tortoise which was brought to the Palace in
1623 and which lived there for 107 years.38 Another tortoise, brought to
Fulham by Archbishop Laud, lived in the Palace for 128 years. I have
already referred to a specimen of Testudo mauritanica, the history of which
is known for 86 years, but which is probably much older.
Very little is known as to the longevity of lizards and serpents, but it may be
inferred from what I have said about other reptiles that reptiles as a class are
able to reach great ages.
It is an easy inference that the great duration of life in cold-blooded animals
is associated with the slowness of the physiological processes in these
creatures. The circulation, for instance, is so slow, that the heart of a tortoise
beats only 20 to 25 times in a minute. Weismann has suggested that one of
the factors influencing the duration of life is the rapidity or slowness of the
vital activities, the times taken by the processes of absorption and nutrition.
On the other hand, the blood is hot and the vital activities are rapid in birds,
and yet birds may attain great ages. Although in the last chapter I gave a
number of examples, the subject is so important that I propose to go further
estimate, inasmuch as during revolutionary times most of the carp were
eaten when the palaces were overrun by the populace. There is no doubt,
however, that the life of carp may be very long indeed. Not very much is
known about the duration of life in batrachians, but it is certain at least that
some small frogs may live twelve or sixteen years, and toads as many as
thirty-six years.
More is known about the life of reptiles. Crocodiles and caymans, which
are large and which grow very slowly, attain great ages. In the Paris
Museum of Natural History there are crocodiles which have been kept for
more than forty years without showing signs of senescence. Turtles,
although they are smaller than crocodiles, live still longer. A tortoise has
lived for eighty years in the garden of the Governor of Cape Town, and is
believed to have reached the age of two hundred years. Another tortoise, a
native of the Galapagos Islands, is known to be 175 years old, whilst a
specimen in the London Zoological Gardens is 150 years old. A land
tortoise (Testudo marginata) has been kept in Norfolk, England, for a
century. I am informed that in the Archbishop’s palace at Canterbury, there
is to be seen the carapace of a tortoise which was brought to the Palace in
1623 and which lived there for 107 years.38 Another tortoise, brought to
Fulham by Archbishop Laud, lived in the Palace for 128 years. I have
already referred to a specimen of Testudo mauritanica, the history of which
is known for 86 years, but which is probably much older.
Very little is known as to the longevity of lizards and serpents, but it may be
inferred from what I have said about other reptiles that reptiles as a class are
able to reach great ages.
It is an easy inference that the great duration of life in cold-blooded animals
is associated with the slowness of the physiological processes in these
creatures. The circulation, for instance, is so slow, that the heart of a tortoise
beats only 20 to 25 times in a minute. Weismann has suggested that one of
the factors influencing the duration of life is the rapidity or slowness of the
vital activities, the times taken by the processes of absorption and nutrition.
On the other hand, the blood is hot and the vital activities are rapid in birds,
and yet birds may attain great ages. Although in the last chapter I gave a
number of examples, the subject is so important that I propose to go further
Page 54
into details. The possibility of this is due to an admirable set of details
brought together by Mr. J. H. Gurney.39 In his list, in which are included
more than fifty species of birds, the lowest figures are from eight and a half
to nine years (Podargus cuvieri, Chelidon urbica), and a duration of life so
short is an exception, a period of from fifteen to twenty years being more
common. Canaries have lived in captivity from 17 to 20 years, and
goldfinches up to 23 years. Field larks have lived for 24 years, the Lesser
Black-backed Gull 31 years and the Herring Gull 44 years. Birds of
medium size may live for several dozens of years, whether they live on
animal or on vegetable food, whether they are prolific or lay very few eggs.
I will quote only a few instances. Of forty parrots the minimum and
maximum ages were respectively 15 and 81 years, and the average 43
years. Without accepting the truth of the story mentioned by Humboldt
according to which certain parrots survived an extinct race of Indians, at
least we may be certain that great ages have sometimes been reached by
these birds. Levaillant mentions a parrot (Psittacus erithaceus) which lost
its memory at the age of 60 years, its sight at 90 years, and which died aged
93 years. Another individual, probably of the same species, is reported by J.
Jennings to have reached the age of 77. Jones, Layard, and Butler are the
authorities for instances of Sulphur-crested Cockatoos having reached
respectively 30, 72 and 81 years. M. Abrahams states that an Amazon
(Chrysotis amasonica) lived 102 years. I myself have observed two cases of
great longevity in the same species of parrot. One of these birds died at the
age of 82 years, apparently simply from old age, whilst the other, which
was in my possession for several years before it died at the age of 70 to 75
years, was vigorous, showing no signs of senility, but died of pneumonia.
Mr. Gurney found that parrots were not the only birds capable of reaching a
great age. One raven reached 69 years and another 50, an Eagle-owl (Bubo
maximus) 68 years, another 53, a condor 52, an imperial eagle 56, a
common heron 60, a wild goose 80, and a common swan 70 years. None of
these examples approaches the legendary three centuries attributed to the
swan, but it is evident that many different kinds of birds may attain great
age. I can add some cases to those of Mr. Gurney. In the Royal Park at
Schönbrunn, near Vienna, a white-headed vulture (Neophron percnopterus)
died aged 118 years, a golden eagle (Aquila chrysaëtus) aged 104, and
another aged 80 (according to Oustalet). Mr. Pycraft (Country Life, June
25th, 1904) reported that a female eagle, captured in Norway in 1829, had
brought together by Mr. J. H. Gurney.39 In his list, in which are included
more than fifty species of birds, the lowest figures are from eight and a half
to nine years (Podargus cuvieri, Chelidon urbica), and a duration of life so
short is an exception, a period of from fifteen to twenty years being more
common. Canaries have lived in captivity from 17 to 20 years, and
goldfinches up to 23 years. Field larks have lived for 24 years, the Lesser
Black-backed Gull 31 years and the Herring Gull 44 years. Birds of
medium size may live for several dozens of years, whether they live on
animal or on vegetable food, whether they are prolific or lay very few eggs.
I will quote only a few instances. Of forty parrots the minimum and
maximum ages were respectively 15 and 81 years, and the average 43
years. Without accepting the truth of the story mentioned by Humboldt
according to which certain parrots survived an extinct race of Indians, at
least we may be certain that great ages have sometimes been reached by
these birds. Levaillant mentions a parrot (Psittacus erithaceus) which lost
its memory at the age of 60 years, its sight at 90 years, and which died aged
93 years. Another individual, probably of the same species, is reported by J.
Jennings to have reached the age of 77. Jones, Layard, and Butler are the
authorities for instances of Sulphur-crested Cockatoos having reached
respectively 30, 72 and 81 years. M. Abrahams states that an Amazon
(Chrysotis amasonica) lived 102 years. I myself have observed two cases of
great longevity in the same species of parrot. One of these birds died at the
age of 82 years, apparently simply from old age, whilst the other, which
was in my possession for several years before it died at the age of 70 to 75
years, was vigorous, showing no signs of senility, but died of pneumonia.
Mr. Gurney found that parrots were not the only birds capable of reaching a
great age. One raven reached 69 years and another 50, an Eagle-owl (Bubo
maximus) 68 years, another 53, a condor 52, an imperial eagle 56, a
common heron 60, a wild goose 80, and a common swan 70 years. None of
these examples approaches the legendary three centuries attributed to the
swan, but it is evident that many different kinds of birds may attain great
age. I can add some cases to those of Mr. Gurney. In the Royal Park at
Schönbrunn, near Vienna, a white-headed vulture (Neophron percnopterus)
died aged 118 years, a golden eagle (Aquila chrysaëtus) aged 104, and
another aged 80 (according to Oustalet). Mr. Pycraft (Country Life, June
25th, 1904) reported that a female eagle, captured in Norway in 1829, had
Page 55
been brought to England and had lived for 75 years. In the last thirty years
of its life, it had produced ninety eggs. The same writer mentions the case
of a falcon having lived to 162 years.
The collection of facts that I have passed in review make it manifest that
birds may have a great duration of life, but that reptiles surpass them in this
respect. Birds certainly do not reach the very great ages of crocodiles and
tortoises.
Longevity, therefore, is reduced as we ascend in the scale of vertebrate life.
We find a still greater reduction when we turn from birds to mammals.
Some mammals, it is true, may live as long as birds. Elephants are a good
instance. It used to be thought that these giant mammals could live three or
four centuries, but I can find no confirmation of the legend, which seems as
mythical as that relating to the life of swans. There are no exact data as to
the ages reached by wild elephants, but it has been stated that in captivity an
elephant rarely but occasionally has completed its century. In zoological
gardens and in good menageries, where elephants are well cared for, they
seldom live more than 20 to 25 years. Chevrette, an African elephant
presented to the Jardin des Plantes by Mehemet Ali, in 1825, lived for only
30 years. In the official list of the Indian Government, which gives the
deaths of elephants, it appears that of 138 examples, only one lived more
than 20 years after it had been purchased (Brehm’s Mammals).
Flourens, using his own formula, assigned the age of 150 years to elephants
as their epiphyses do not fuse with the long bones until the age of 30. So
far, I know of no fact to support the conclusion, although it seems fairly
well established that occasionally an elephant may reach a century. It is
stated that one elephant was in service throughout the whole period of more
than 140 years in which Ceylon was occupied by the Dutch. This elephant
was found in the stables in 1656. Natives with special knowledge of
elephants set down their duration of life as from 80 to 150 years, but say
that they begin to grow old at from 50 to 60 years of age. My general
conclusion from the facts is that the life of these very large mammals is
about the same as that of man who is very much smaller.
Centenarians, extremely rare amongst elephants, do not appear to exist in
any other kind of mammals except man. The rhinoceros, another large
mammal which is a native of the same countries as the elephant, does not
of its life, it had produced ninety eggs. The same writer mentions the case
of a falcon having lived to 162 years.
The collection of facts that I have passed in review make it manifest that
birds may have a great duration of life, but that reptiles surpass them in this
respect. Birds certainly do not reach the very great ages of crocodiles and
tortoises.
Longevity, therefore, is reduced as we ascend in the scale of vertebrate life.
We find a still greater reduction when we turn from birds to mammals.
Some mammals, it is true, may live as long as birds. Elephants are a good
instance. It used to be thought that these giant mammals could live three or
four centuries, but I can find no confirmation of the legend, which seems as
mythical as that relating to the life of swans. There are no exact data as to
the ages reached by wild elephants, but it has been stated that in captivity an
elephant rarely but occasionally has completed its century. In zoological
gardens and in good menageries, where elephants are well cared for, they
seldom live more than 20 to 25 years. Chevrette, an African elephant
presented to the Jardin des Plantes by Mehemet Ali, in 1825, lived for only
30 years. In the official list of the Indian Government, which gives the
deaths of elephants, it appears that of 138 examples, only one lived more
than 20 years after it had been purchased (Brehm’s Mammals).
Flourens, using his own formula, assigned the age of 150 years to elephants
as their epiphyses do not fuse with the long bones until the age of 30. So
far, I know of no fact to support the conclusion, although it seems fairly
well established that occasionally an elephant may reach a century. It is
stated that one elephant was in service throughout the whole period of more
than 140 years in which Ceylon was occupied by the Dutch. This elephant
was found in the stables in 1656. Natives with special knowledge of
elephants set down their duration of life as from 80 to 150 years, but say
that they begin to grow old at from 50 to 60 years of age. My general
conclusion from the facts is that the life of these very large mammals is
about the same as that of man who is very much smaller.
Centenarians, extremely rare amongst elephants, do not appear to exist in
any other kind of mammals except man. The rhinoceros, another large
mammal which is a native of the same countries as the elephant, does not
Page 56
reach a great age. According to Oustalet an Indian rhinoceros died in the
menagerie of the Paris Museum at about the age of 25 years, and showed all
the signs of senility. Another Indian rhinoceros lived for 37 years in the
London Zoological Gardens. Grindon has stated his opinion that the
rhinoceros may live for 70 or 80 years, but this seems rather an inference
from the slowness of growth than a statement of observed fact.
Horses and cattle are large animals, but do not enjoy very long lives. The
usual duration of life in horses is from 15 to 30 years. They begin to grow
old about 10 years, and in very rare cases may reach 40 or more. A Welsh
pony is said to have reached the age of sixty, but such a case is excessively
rare. Two other extreme cases are that of a horse belonging to the Bishop of
Metz which died at the age of 50 years, and the charger of Field-Marshal
Lacy which died at 46.
The duration of life of cattle is still shorter. Domestic cattle show the first
sign of age, a yellow discoloration of the teeth, when five years old. In the
sixteenth to eighteenth year the teeth fall out, or break, and the cow ceases
to give milk, whilst the bull has lost reproductive power. According to
Brehm, cattle live for 25 to 30 years or more. Although the duration of life
is short, cattle are not prolific. The gestation period of a cow approaches
that of the human race (242-287 days), and there is only one birth a year.
The total period of reproductivity lasts only a few years.
The sheep, another domesticated Ruminant, has a life even shorter.
According to Grindon, sheep do not live longer than 12 years as a rule, but
may reach 14 years, which in their case would be extreme age, as they
generally lose their teeth at from 8 to 10 years.
Some Ruminants, such as camels and deer, apparently live longer than
sheep or cattle, but I do not know exact facts about them.
The short life of domesticated carnivorous animals is well known. Dogs
seldom live more than 16 or 18 years, and even before that, at an age of
from 10 to 12, they usually show plain signs of senility. Jonatt has
mentioned as an extreme rarity a dog of 22 years of age, and Sir E. Ray
Lankester (Comparative Longevity, p. 60) cites another instance, in this
case the age being 34 years. The oldest dog that I have been able to procure
died at the age of 22.
menagerie of the Paris Museum at about the age of 25 years, and showed all
the signs of senility. Another Indian rhinoceros lived for 37 years in the
London Zoological Gardens. Grindon has stated his opinion that the
rhinoceros may live for 70 or 80 years, but this seems rather an inference
from the slowness of growth than a statement of observed fact.
Horses and cattle are large animals, but do not enjoy very long lives. The
usual duration of life in horses is from 15 to 30 years. They begin to grow
old about 10 years, and in very rare cases may reach 40 or more. A Welsh
pony is said to have reached the age of sixty, but such a case is excessively
rare. Two other extreme cases are that of a horse belonging to the Bishop of
Metz which died at the age of 50 years, and the charger of Field-Marshal
Lacy which died at 46.
The duration of life of cattle is still shorter. Domestic cattle show the first
sign of age, a yellow discoloration of the teeth, when five years old. In the
sixteenth to eighteenth year the teeth fall out, or break, and the cow ceases
to give milk, whilst the bull has lost reproductive power. According to
Brehm, cattle live for 25 to 30 years or more. Although the duration of life
is short, cattle are not prolific. The gestation period of a cow approaches
that of the human race (242-287 days), and there is only one birth a year.
The total period of reproductivity lasts only a few years.
The sheep, another domesticated Ruminant, has a life even shorter.
According to Grindon, sheep do not live longer than 12 years as a rule, but
may reach 14 years, which in their case would be extreme age, as they
generally lose their teeth at from 8 to 10 years.
Some Ruminants, such as camels and deer, apparently live longer than
sheep or cattle, but I do not know exact facts about them.
The short life of domesticated carnivorous animals is well known. Dogs
seldom live more than 16 or 18 years, and even before that, at an age of
from 10 to 12, they usually show plain signs of senility. Jonatt has
mentioned as an extreme rarity a dog of 22 years of age, and Sir E. Ray
Lankester (Comparative Longevity, p. 60) cites another instance, in this
case the age being 34 years. The oldest dog that I have been able to procure
died at the age of 22.
Page 57
It is generally believed that cats do not live so long as dogs. The average
age which they may attain is usually thought to be 10 or 12 years, but
certainly a cat of that age has not the decrepid appearance of an old dog.
Thanks to the kindness of M. Barrier, the Director of the Ecole d’Alfort, I
have had in my possession a cat 23 years old. It appeared to be quite
vigorous, and died from cancer in the liver.
Most rodents, particularly the domesticated kinds, are extremely prolific
and very short lived. It is extremely rare for a rabbit to reach the age of 10
years, whilst 7 years is the utmost limit for a guinea-pig. Mice, so far as I
can ascertain, do not live more than 5 or 6 years.
It is plain from the facts that I have brought together, that mammals,
whether they are large or small, as a rule, have shorter lives than birds. It is
probable, therefore, that there is something in the structure of mammals
which has brought about a shortening in the duration of their lives.
Whilst most of the lower vertebrates, and all birds, reproduce by laying
eggs, the vast majority of mammals are viviparous. As the tax on the parent
organism is greater when the young are produced alive than when eggs are
laid, it might be thought that in this difference lay the cause of the shorter
life of mammals. It is well known that an animal may be made feeble by too
great fecundity, and it is conceivable that the kind of parasitic life of the
embryos within the body of the mother may weaken her system.
There are many facts, however, which make it impossible to accept such a
view. The longevity of mammals is nearly equal in the two sexes, although
the tax on the organism caused by reproduction is much greater in the case
of females than in males. Longevity, however, cannot be regarded as a
character stable in each species and necessarily identical in the two sexes.
The animal kingdom presents many cases of disparity in this respect, the
difference in longevity in the two sexes being specially striking in species
of insects. Generally, the females live longer than the males, as, for
instance, amongst the Strepsiptera, where the females have 64 times the
duration of life of the males. On the other hand, amongst butterflies, there
are cases (e.g., Aglia tau) where the males live longer than the females. In
the human race, there is a difference in the longevity of the sexes, the
females having the advantage.
age which they may attain is usually thought to be 10 or 12 years, but
certainly a cat of that age has not the decrepid appearance of an old dog.
Thanks to the kindness of M. Barrier, the Director of the Ecole d’Alfort, I
have had in my possession a cat 23 years old. It appeared to be quite
vigorous, and died from cancer in the liver.
Most rodents, particularly the domesticated kinds, are extremely prolific
and very short lived. It is extremely rare for a rabbit to reach the age of 10
years, whilst 7 years is the utmost limit for a guinea-pig. Mice, so far as I
can ascertain, do not live more than 5 or 6 years.
It is plain from the facts that I have brought together, that mammals,
whether they are large or small, as a rule, have shorter lives than birds. It is
probable, therefore, that there is something in the structure of mammals
which has brought about a shortening in the duration of their lives.
Whilst most of the lower vertebrates, and all birds, reproduce by laying
eggs, the vast majority of mammals are viviparous. As the tax on the parent
organism is greater when the young are produced alive than when eggs are
laid, it might be thought that in this difference lay the cause of the shorter
life of mammals. It is well known that an animal may be made feeble by too
great fecundity, and it is conceivable that the kind of parasitic life of the
embryos within the body of the mother may weaken her system.
There are many facts, however, which make it impossible to accept such a
view. The longevity of mammals is nearly equal in the two sexes, although
the tax on the organism caused by reproduction is much greater in the case
of females than in males. Longevity, however, cannot be regarded as a
character stable in each species and necessarily identical in the two sexes.
The animal kingdom presents many cases of disparity in this respect, the
difference in longevity in the two sexes being specially striking in species
of insects. Generally, the females live longer than the males, as, for
instance, amongst the Strepsiptera, where the females have 64 times the
duration of life of the males. On the other hand, amongst butterflies, there
are cases (e.g., Aglia tau) where the males live longer than the females. In
the human race, there is a difference in the longevity of the sexes, the
females having the advantage.
Page 58
As in most cases of disparity in the duration of life the female lives longer
than the male, it is plain that the difference cannot be assigned to the drain
on the organism caused by reproduction, which, of course, is much greater
in females.
Moreover, a closer scrutiny of the facts shows that although mammals do
not live so long as birds, the reproductive drain is greater in the case of
birds.
It is well known that the productivity of an animal is not necessarily
identical with its fecundity. Fish or frogs which lay thousands of eggs at a
time (a pike, for example, produces 130,000) are obviously more prolific
than, for instance, a sparrow which lays only 18 eggs in a year, or than a
rabbit, which in the same time gives birth to from 25 to 50. However, to
produce this much smaller quantity of eggs or of young, the sparrow and
the rabbit (I have chosen the most prolific bird and mammal) expend a
much larger quantity of material than the frog or the fish. The sparrow and
the rabbit employ in producing their progeny a bulk of material greater than
the weight of their body, whilst the enormous quantity of eggs laid by the
frog does not weigh more than one-seventh part of the body of the frog. It
may be laid down, as a general rule, that although fecundity, that is to say
the number of eggs or of young which are produced, diminishes as the
organism becomes more complex, the productivity on the other hand
increases, expressed in percentage of weight. The productivity, which is not
more than 18 per cent. in batrachia, reaches 50 per cent. in reptiles, 74 per
cent. in mammals, and 82 per cent. in birds.
It is plain that if reproduction shortens the life of mammals by weakening
the organism, it must be the productivity, not the fecundity, which is the
important factor. I have just shown that productivity is greater in birds than
in mammals, and in consequence it cannot be on account of any greater
burden of reproduction that mammals have a shorter life than birds. The
shortness of mammalian life, again, cannot be attributed to the fact that
mammals give birth to young, whilst the long-lived reptiles and birds
produce eggs, because the longevity of the males, which produce neither
young nor eggs, is none the less practically equal to that of the females of
the same species. The reason of the short life of mammals must be sought
for elsewhere.
than the male, it is plain that the difference cannot be assigned to the drain
on the organism caused by reproduction, which, of course, is much greater
in females.
Moreover, a closer scrutiny of the facts shows that although mammals do
not live so long as birds, the reproductive drain is greater in the case of
birds.
It is well known that the productivity of an animal is not necessarily
identical with its fecundity. Fish or frogs which lay thousands of eggs at a
time (a pike, for example, produces 130,000) are obviously more prolific
than, for instance, a sparrow which lays only 18 eggs in a year, or than a
rabbit, which in the same time gives birth to from 25 to 50. However, to
produce this much smaller quantity of eggs or of young, the sparrow and
the rabbit (I have chosen the most prolific bird and mammal) expend a
much larger quantity of material than the frog or the fish. The sparrow and
the rabbit employ in producing their progeny a bulk of material greater than
the weight of their body, whilst the enormous quantity of eggs laid by the
frog does not weigh more than one-seventh part of the body of the frog. It
may be laid down, as a general rule, that although fecundity, that is to say
the number of eggs or of young which are produced, diminishes as the
organism becomes more complex, the productivity on the other hand
increases, expressed in percentage of weight. The productivity, which is not
more than 18 per cent. in batrachia, reaches 50 per cent. in reptiles, 74 per
cent. in mammals, and 82 per cent. in birds.
It is plain that if reproduction shortens the life of mammals by weakening
the organism, it must be the productivity, not the fecundity, which is the
important factor. I have just shown that productivity is greater in birds than
in mammals, and in consequence it cannot be on account of any greater
burden of reproduction that mammals have a shorter life than birds. The
shortness of mammalian life, again, cannot be attributed to the fact that
mammals give birth to young, whilst the long-lived reptiles and birds
produce eggs, because the longevity of the males, which produce neither
young nor eggs, is none the less practically equal to that of the females of
the same species. The reason of the short life of mammals must be sought
for elsewhere.
Page 59
III
THE DIGESTIVE SYSTEM AND SENILITY
Relations between longevity and the structure of the digestive system—The Cæca in birds
—The large intestine of mammals—Function of the large intestine—The intestinal
microbes and their agency in producing auto-intoxication and auto-infection in the
organism—Passage of microbes through the intestinal wall
We have seen that the duration of life in mammals is relatively shorter than
that in birds, and in the so-called “cold-blooded” vertebrates. No indication
as to the cause of this difference can be found in the structure of the organs
of circulation, respiration, or urinary secretion, or in the nervous or sexual
apparatus. The key to the problem is to be found in the organs of digestion.
In reviewing the anatomical structure of the digestive apparatus in the
vertebrate series, one soon comes to the striking fact that mammals are the
only group in which the large intestine is much developed. In fish, the large
intestine is the least important part of the digestive tube, being little wider
in calibre than the small intestine. Amongst batrachia, where it is a
relatively wide sack, it has begun to assume some importance. In several
reptiles it is still larger, and may be provided with a lateral out-growth,
which is to be regarded as a cæcum. In birds, the large intestine still remains
relatively badly developed; it is short and straight. In most birds, at the
point where the large intestine passes into the small intestine, there is a pair
of cæca, more or less developed. These cæca are absent in climbing birds,
such as the wood-pecker, the oriole, and many others. They are reduced to a
pair of tiny outgrowths in the eagles, sparrow-hawks, and other diurnal
birds of prey, and in pigeons, and perching birds. These organs are larger in
the nocturnal birds of prey, in gallinaceous birds, and in ducks, etc.40
In the large running birds, such as ostriches, rheas, and tinamous, the cæca
are relatively largest. Thus, for instance, in a rhea (Rhea americana) which
I dissected, the cæca were nearly two-thirds as long as the small intestine.
The latter was 1·65 m. in length, whereas one of the cæca was 1·01 m., and
the other 0·95 m. The weight of the two cæca with their contents was more
than 10 per cent. of the total weight of the bird.
THE DIGESTIVE SYSTEM AND SENILITY
Relations between longevity and the structure of the digestive system—The Cæca in birds
—The large intestine of mammals—Function of the large intestine—The intestinal
microbes and their agency in producing auto-intoxication and auto-infection in the
organism—Passage of microbes through the intestinal wall
We have seen that the duration of life in mammals is relatively shorter than
that in birds, and in the so-called “cold-blooded” vertebrates. No indication
as to the cause of this difference can be found in the structure of the organs
of circulation, respiration, or urinary secretion, or in the nervous or sexual
apparatus. The key to the problem is to be found in the organs of digestion.
In reviewing the anatomical structure of the digestive apparatus in the
vertebrate series, one soon comes to the striking fact that mammals are the
only group in which the large intestine is much developed. In fish, the large
intestine is the least important part of the digestive tube, being little wider
in calibre than the small intestine. Amongst batrachia, where it is a
relatively wide sack, it has begun to assume some importance. In several
reptiles it is still larger, and may be provided with a lateral out-growth,
which is to be regarded as a cæcum. In birds, the large intestine still remains
relatively badly developed; it is short and straight. In most birds, at the
point where the large intestine passes into the small intestine, there is a pair
of cæca, more or less developed. These cæca are absent in climbing birds,
such as the wood-pecker, the oriole, and many others. They are reduced to a
pair of tiny outgrowths in the eagles, sparrow-hawks, and other diurnal
birds of prey, and in pigeons, and perching birds. These organs are larger in
the nocturnal birds of prey, in gallinaceous birds, and in ducks, etc.40
In the large running birds, such as ostriches, rheas, and tinamous, the cæca
are relatively largest. Thus, for instance, in a rhea (Rhea americana) which
I dissected, the cæca were nearly two-thirds as long as the small intestine.
The latter was 1·65 m. in length, whereas one of the cæca was 1·01 m., and
the other 0·95 m. The weight of the two cæca with their contents was more
than 10 per cent. of the total weight of the bird.
Page 60
Notwithstanding the exceptions, which are relatively rare, the large intestine
is badly developed in the case of birds. On the other hand, it reaches its
largest size amongst mammals. In these animals, “only the posterior portion
of the latter, or rectum, which passes into the pelvic cavity, corresponds to
the large intestine of lower Vertebrates; the remaining, and far larger part,
must be looked upon as a neomorph, and is called the colon.”41
Gegenbaur,42 another well-known authority on comparative anatomy, writes
as follows on this subject:—“The hind-gut is longest in the Mammalia,
where it forms the large intestine, and is distinguished as such, from the
mid-gut, or small intestine. Owing to its greater length, it is arranged in
coils, so that the terminal portion only has the straight course taken by the
hind-gut of other Vertebrata.”
The two series of facts are not to be disputed. On the one hand mammals
are shorter lived than birds and lower vertebrates, on the other hand the
large intestine is much longer in them than in any other vertebrates. Is there
here any link of causality, binding the two characters, or is it a mere
coincidence?
To answer the question we must turn to the function of the large intestine in
vertebrates. In the lower members of the group (fish, batrachia, reptiles,
birds, etc.), the large intestine is not more than a mere reservoir for the
waste matter in the food. It takes no share in digestion, as that is the
function of the stomach and the small intestine. Only the cæcum can be
thought to have some digestive property. In reptiles, the lowest vertebrates
in which the cæcum is present, it is so little differentiated from the large
intestine itself, that it is difficult to assign to it any specialised function. In
very many birds, however, the cæca are well separated from the main
digestive tube. The food material passes into them in considerable
quantities, and is retained there sufficiently long for some digestive process
to take place. M. Maumus has found, in the cæca of birds, secretions which
can dissolve albumen and invert sugar cane, but he has been unable to make
out that the cæcal juice has any action upon fatty matter. Such digestive
power, however, is slight, and when M. Maumus removed the cæca in fowls
and ducks, no evil consequences followed. As in many birds the cæca are
rudimentary and in others absent, it may be inferred that these organs are
useless, and are in process of degeneration in the class. The cæca can be
regarded as playing an important part in the organism only in the case of
is badly developed in the case of birds. On the other hand, it reaches its
largest size amongst mammals. In these animals, “only the posterior portion
of the latter, or rectum, which passes into the pelvic cavity, corresponds to
the large intestine of lower Vertebrates; the remaining, and far larger part,
must be looked upon as a neomorph, and is called the colon.”41
Gegenbaur,42 another well-known authority on comparative anatomy, writes
as follows on this subject:—“The hind-gut is longest in the Mammalia,
where it forms the large intestine, and is distinguished as such, from the
mid-gut, or small intestine. Owing to its greater length, it is arranged in
coils, so that the terminal portion only has the straight course taken by the
hind-gut of other Vertebrata.”
The two series of facts are not to be disputed. On the one hand mammals
are shorter lived than birds and lower vertebrates, on the other hand the
large intestine is much longer in them than in any other vertebrates. Is there
here any link of causality, binding the two characters, or is it a mere
coincidence?
To answer the question we must turn to the function of the large intestine in
vertebrates. In the lower members of the group (fish, batrachia, reptiles,
birds, etc.), the large intestine is not more than a mere reservoir for the
waste matter in the food. It takes no share in digestion, as that is the
function of the stomach and the small intestine. Only the cæcum can be
thought to have some digestive property. In reptiles, the lowest vertebrates
in which the cæcum is present, it is so little differentiated from the large
intestine itself, that it is difficult to assign to it any specialised function. In
very many birds, however, the cæca are well separated from the main
digestive tube. The food material passes into them in considerable
quantities, and is retained there sufficiently long for some digestive process
to take place. M. Maumus has found, in the cæca of birds, secretions which
can dissolve albumen and invert sugar cane, but he has been unable to make
out that the cæcal juice has any action upon fatty matter. Such digestive
power, however, is slight, and when M. Maumus removed the cæca in fowls
and ducks, no evil consequences followed. As in many birds the cæca are
rudimentary and in others absent, it may be inferred that these organs are
useless, and are in process of degeneration in the class. The cæca can be
regarded as playing an important part in the organism only in the case of
Page 61
large running birds, where they are very highly developed, but we have not
precise information as to their digestive function.
The variations in the structure in the large intestine are greater in mammals
than in birds. In some mammals, the large intestine is a simple prolongation
of the small intestine, similar in calibre and in structure. In these conditions
it may fulfil a definite digestive function. Th. Eimer43 has determined that
in insectivorous bats the large intestine digests insects like the small
intestine. Such cases, however, are rare. In most mammals the large
intestine is sharply separated from the small intestine by a valve, and opens
directly into the cæcum which may be very large. In the horse, the cæcum is
an enormous bag, cylindrical and tapering, generally well filled, and
holding on an average 35 litres. It is equally large in many other
herbivorous animals, such as the tapir, the elephant, and most rodents. In
such cases, the food remains for a considerable time in the organ and
without doubt undergoes some digestive changes. In many other mammals,
particularly carnivorous forms, the cæcum may be quite absent, whilst in
some, as for instance, the cat and dog, it is very small; in the latter cases its
digestive function must be non-existent or insignificant.44
As for the large intestine itself, apart from the special cases, such as bats, it
cannot fulfil any notable digestive function. Th. Eimer was unable to find a
proof of any such action in rats and mice, and the very many investigations
that have been made in the case of man seem to have established the
absence of digestive power in the colon.
Dr. Stragesco,45 in a recent investigation carried out under the direction of
the famous Russian physiologist Pawloff, established that, in normal
conditions, digestion and assimilation of food are confined almost
exclusively to the small intestine in mammals, and that the large intestine
plays only the smallest part. It is only in certain diseases of the digestive
tract, in which, on account of increased peristaltic action, the contents of the
intestine with the digestive juices are passed quickly from the small
intestine to the large intestine, that some digestive work is done in the latter
organ.
The large intestine (excluding the cæcum), then, cannot be regarded as an
organ of digestion, although absorption of the liquids which have been
formed in the small intestine, may take place within its walls. It is known
precise information as to their digestive function.
The variations in the structure in the large intestine are greater in mammals
than in birds. In some mammals, the large intestine is a simple prolongation
of the small intestine, similar in calibre and in structure. In these conditions
it may fulfil a definite digestive function. Th. Eimer43 has determined that
in insectivorous bats the large intestine digests insects like the small
intestine. Such cases, however, are rare. In most mammals the large
intestine is sharply separated from the small intestine by a valve, and opens
directly into the cæcum which may be very large. In the horse, the cæcum is
an enormous bag, cylindrical and tapering, generally well filled, and
holding on an average 35 litres. It is equally large in many other
herbivorous animals, such as the tapir, the elephant, and most rodents. In
such cases, the food remains for a considerable time in the organ and
without doubt undergoes some digestive changes. In many other mammals,
particularly carnivorous forms, the cæcum may be quite absent, whilst in
some, as for instance, the cat and dog, it is very small; in the latter cases its
digestive function must be non-existent or insignificant.44
As for the large intestine itself, apart from the special cases, such as bats, it
cannot fulfil any notable digestive function. Th. Eimer was unable to find a
proof of any such action in rats and mice, and the very many investigations
that have been made in the case of man seem to have established the
absence of digestive power in the colon.
Dr. Stragesco,45 in a recent investigation carried out under the direction of
the famous Russian physiologist Pawloff, established that, in normal
conditions, digestion and assimilation of food are confined almost
exclusively to the small intestine in mammals, and that the large intestine
plays only the smallest part. It is only in certain diseases of the digestive
tract, in which, on account of increased peristaltic action, the contents of the
intestine with the digestive juices are passed quickly from the small
intestine to the large intestine, that some digestive work is done in the latter
organ.
The large intestine (excluding the cæcum), then, cannot be regarded as an
organ of digestion, although absorption of the liquids which have been
formed in the small intestine, may take place within its walls. It is known
Page 62
that in the large intestine the contents of the gut give up their water and
assume the solid form of fæcal matter. However, whilst the mucous
membrane of the large intestine rapidly absorbs water, it has not a similar
action on other substances.
The question of the extent to which the large intestine can absorb has been
closely investigated, because of its practical importance. It sometimes
happens that invalids cannot take food by the mouth, so that their life would
be in danger if it were not possible to supply them with food otherwise.
Attempts have been made to inject nutritive substances through the skin, or,
and this is a more usual procedure, by the rectum. By such means the
organism can be kept alive for a certain time, but the absorbing power of
the large intestine is extremely small. According to Czerny and
Lautschenberger46 the entire colon of the human being can absorb no more
than 6 grammes of albumen in 24 hours, an amount which, from the point
of view of nutrition, is very small. It was thought that the large intestine
might more rapidly absorb albuminous material which had been previously
digested and transformed to peptones, but the experiments of Ewald47
showed that even in that case the absorption was very small. According to
more recent experiments of Heile,48 carried out upon dogs which had cæcal
fistulas, and in the case of a man who had an artificial aperture in the colon,
the large intestine does not absorb undigested white of egg, and absorbs
water, cane sugar, and glucose only very imperfectly. The only substances
which are rapidly absorbed through the wall of the colon are the alkaline
fluids from fæcal matter. It is possible, however, to nourish invalids by
rectal injections of certain nutritious substances, the most important of
which is milk.49
The large intestine, which has really very slight digestive properties and
cannot absorb any considerable bulk of nutriment, is an organ which
secretes mucus. The latter serves to moisten the solid fæcal material, so
aiding in its expulsion.
We must conclude, therefore, that the large intestine, the organ so highly
developed in mammals, is an apparatus the general function of which is the
preparation and elimination of the waste products of digestion. Why should
such an organ be so much more developed in mammals than in the other
vertebrates?
assume the solid form of fæcal matter. However, whilst the mucous
membrane of the large intestine rapidly absorbs water, it has not a similar
action on other substances.
The question of the extent to which the large intestine can absorb has been
closely investigated, because of its practical importance. It sometimes
happens that invalids cannot take food by the mouth, so that their life would
be in danger if it were not possible to supply them with food otherwise.
Attempts have been made to inject nutritive substances through the skin, or,
and this is a more usual procedure, by the rectum. By such means the
organism can be kept alive for a certain time, but the absorbing power of
the large intestine is extremely small. According to Czerny and
Lautschenberger46 the entire colon of the human being can absorb no more
than 6 grammes of albumen in 24 hours, an amount which, from the point
of view of nutrition, is very small. It was thought that the large intestine
might more rapidly absorb albuminous material which had been previously
digested and transformed to peptones, but the experiments of Ewald47
showed that even in that case the absorption was very small. According to
more recent experiments of Heile,48 carried out upon dogs which had cæcal
fistulas, and in the case of a man who had an artificial aperture in the colon,
the large intestine does not absorb undigested white of egg, and absorbs
water, cane sugar, and glucose only very imperfectly. The only substances
which are rapidly absorbed through the wall of the colon are the alkaline
fluids from fæcal matter. It is possible, however, to nourish invalids by
rectal injections of certain nutritious substances, the most important of
which is milk.49
The large intestine, which has really very slight digestive properties and
cannot absorb any considerable bulk of nutriment, is an organ which
secretes mucus. The latter serves to moisten the solid fæcal material, so
aiding in its expulsion.
We must conclude, therefore, that the large intestine, the organ so highly
developed in mammals, is an apparatus the general function of which is the
preparation and elimination of the waste products of digestion. Why should
such an organ be so much more developed in mammals than in the other
vertebrates?
Page 63
In answer to the question, I have formed the theory that the large intestine
has been increased in mammals to make it possible for these animals to run
long distances without having to stand still for defæcation. The organ, then,
would simply have the function of a reservoir of waste matter.
Batrachia and reptiles lead a very idle life, and can move slowly, sometimes
because they are protected by poison (toads, salamanders, serpents),
sometimes because they have a very hard shell (turtles), sometimes because
they are extremely powerful (crocodiles). Mammals, on the other hand,
have to move very actively to catch their prey, or to escape from their
enemies. Such activity has become possible because of the high
development of the limbs, and because the capacity of the large intestine
makes possible the accumulation of waste matter for a considerable time.
In order to void the contents of the intestines, mammals have to stand still
and assume some particular position. Each act of this kind is a definite risk
in the struggle for existence. A carnivorous mammal which, in the process
of hunting its prey, had to stop from time to time, would be inferior to one
which could pursue its course without pausing. So, also, a herbivorous
mammal, escaping from an enemy by flight, would have the better chance
of surviving the less it was necessary for it to stand still.
According to such a view, the extreme development of the large intestine
would supply a real want in the struggle for existence. M. Yves Delage,50
the well-known biologist, is unable to accept this hypothesis. He thinks that
the rectal enlargement would fulfil the purpose, and adds that everyone has
seen herbivorous animals pass their excretions whilst running. The rectum
of mammals, however, cannot serve as a reservoir for waste matter, because
as soon as such matter reaches the rectum it excites the need of excretion.
The waste matter accumulates in the large intestine, from which it passes
into the rectum at intervals. When it has reached that region, a sensation is
caused which leads to defæcation.
M. Delage is not quite definite when he speaks of mammals voiding their
excretions whilst they are in motion. A horse, harnessed to a vehicle, may
defæcate whilst it is walking or even running slowly. But these animals
cannot defæcate when in rapid motion, and competent observers state that
horses never do so whilst racing. In zoological gardens, where animals have
room to run about, they stand still before emptying the rectum. M. Ch.
has been increased in mammals to make it possible for these animals to run
long distances without having to stand still for defæcation. The organ, then,
would simply have the function of a reservoir of waste matter.
Batrachia and reptiles lead a very idle life, and can move slowly, sometimes
because they are protected by poison (toads, salamanders, serpents),
sometimes because they have a very hard shell (turtles), sometimes because
they are extremely powerful (crocodiles). Mammals, on the other hand,
have to move very actively to catch their prey, or to escape from their
enemies. Such activity has become possible because of the high
development of the limbs, and because the capacity of the large intestine
makes possible the accumulation of waste matter for a considerable time.
In order to void the contents of the intestines, mammals have to stand still
and assume some particular position. Each act of this kind is a definite risk
in the struggle for existence. A carnivorous mammal which, in the process
of hunting its prey, had to stop from time to time, would be inferior to one
which could pursue its course without pausing. So, also, a herbivorous
mammal, escaping from an enemy by flight, would have the better chance
of surviving the less it was necessary for it to stand still.
According to such a view, the extreme development of the large intestine
would supply a real want in the struggle for existence. M. Yves Delage,50
the well-known biologist, is unable to accept this hypothesis. He thinks that
the rectal enlargement would fulfil the purpose, and adds that everyone has
seen herbivorous animals pass their excretions whilst running. The rectum
of mammals, however, cannot serve as a reservoir for waste matter, because
as soon as such matter reaches the rectum it excites the need of excretion.
The waste matter accumulates in the large intestine, from which it passes
into the rectum at intervals. When it has reached that region, a sensation is
caused which leads to defæcation.
M. Delage is not quite definite when he speaks of mammals voiding their
excretions whilst they are in motion. A horse, harnessed to a vehicle, may
defæcate whilst it is walking or even running slowly. But these animals
cannot defæcate when in rapid motion, and competent observers state that
horses never do so whilst racing. In zoological gardens, where animals have
room to run about, they stand still before emptying the rectum. M. Ch.
Page 64
Debreuil, who keeps antelopes in a very large park at Melun, has noticed
that the excreta are always to be found in masses and not scattered about as
if they had been discharged by animals in motion. Antelopes, which are
animals that run and leap extremely actively, have to come to a standstill
before discharging their small pellets of deer-like excreta.
In the struggle for existence, when a mammal is pursuing its prey or
escaping its enemy, there is no question of the leisurely movement of a
horse harnessed to an omnibus or cab, but the greatest possible activity is
necessary. In such circumstances the possession of an organ within which
the excreta could accumulate would be of real importance. My theory of the
origin of the mammalian large intestine is intrinsically probable.
Although the capacity of the large intestine may preserve a mammal in
emergencies, it is attended with disadvantages that may shorten the actual
duration of life.
The accumulation of waste matter, retained in the large intestine for
considerable periods, becomes a nidus for microbes which produce
fermentations and putrefaction harmful to the organism. Although our
knowledge of the subject is far from complete, it is certain that the intestinal
flora contains some microbes which damage health, either by multiplying in
the organism, or by poisoning it with their secretions. Most of our
knowledge on this matter has come from the study of human patients.
Persons have been known who do not defæcate except at intervals of
several days, and who, none the less, do not seem to suffer in health. But
the opposite result is more common. The retention of fæcal matter for
several days very often brings harmful consequences. Organisms which are
in a feeble state from some other cause are specially susceptible to damage
of the kind referred to. Infants are frequently seriously ill as the result of
constipation. Dr. du Pasquier51 describes such cases in the following words:
—“The infant is leaden in hue, with sunken eyes, dilated pupils, and
pinched nostrils. The temperature may reach nearly 104° Fahr.; the pulse is
rapid, feeble, and often irregular. Restlessness, insomnia, sometimes
convulsions, stiffness of the neck and strabism show that the nervous
system is being poisoned by toxins, and even collapse may be reached. The
foul and dry tongue, the vomiting and fetid discharges show the disturbance
of the digestive tract. Very often an eruption appears, as described by
that the excreta are always to be found in masses and not scattered about as
if they had been discharged by animals in motion. Antelopes, which are
animals that run and leap extremely actively, have to come to a standstill
before discharging their small pellets of deer-like excreta.
In the struggle for existence, when a mammal is pursuing its prey or
escaping its enemy, there is no question of the leisurely movement of a
horse harnessed to an omnibus or cab, but the greatest possible activity is
necessary. In such circumstances the possession of an organ within which
the excreta could accumulate would be of real importance. My theory of the
origin of the mammalian large intestine is intrinsically probable.
Although the capacity of the large intestine may preserve a mammal in
emergencies, it is attended with disadvantages that may shorten the actual
duration of life.
The accumulation of waste matter, retained in the large intestine for
considerable periods, becomes a nidus for microbes which produce
fermentations and putrefaction harmful to the organism. Although our
knowledge of the subject is far from complete, it is certain that the intestinal
flora contains some microbes which damage health, either by multiplying in
the organism, or by poisoning it with their secretions. Most of our
knowledge on this matter has come from the study of human patients.
Persons have been known who do not defæcate except at intervals of
several days, and who, none the less, do not seem to suffer in health. But
the opposite result is more common. The retention of fæcal matter for
several days very often brings harmful consequences. Organisms which are
in a feeble state from some other cause are specially susceptible to damage
of the kind referred to. Infants are frequently seriously ill as the result of
constipation. Dr. du Pasquier51 describes such cases in the following words:
—“The infant is leaden in hue, with sunken eyes, dilated pupils, and
pinched nostrils. The temperature may reach nearly 104° Fahr.; the pulse is
rapid, feeble, and often irregular. Restlessness, insomnia, sometimes
convulsions, stiffness of the neck and strabism show that the nervous
system is being poisoned by toxins, and even collapse may be reached. The
foul and dry tongue, the vomiting and fetid discharges show the disturbance
of the digestive tract. Very often an eruption appears, as described by
Page 65
Hutinel, chiefly on the back and buttocks, the front of the thighs and fore-
arms.” The illness may lead to death but is generally cured by simple
purging.
Women in pregnancy and child-birth frequently suffer much as the result of
retention of fæcal matter, and physicians are familiar with the symptoms,
which have been described as follows by M. Bouchet52:—“After normal
parturition, in the course of which the usual antiseptic precautions have
been fully pursued, and where delivery has been complete and natural,
occasionally the patient is seized with chill and headache. The breath is
fetid and the tongue foul. The temperature, taken in the axilla, is nearly
101° Fahr. The abdomen is inflated and painful in the umbilical region.
Palpation in the iliac fossæ reveals lumps or consolidations along the colon.
Thirst is intense, and there is complete anorexy. On questioning, it is found
that there has not been defæcation for several days. The treatment consists
of purgatives, enemas, and milk diet. In the next few days the bowels are
emptied freely, the abdominal pain ceases, the temperature becomes lower,
appetite is restored, and the patient recovers.”
Those who suffer from affections of the heart, liver, or kidneys are specially
susceptible to the evil results of retained fæcal matter. In such patients an
error of diet or constipation may bring about most serious consequences.
Such facts are well known to physicians, and it has been established that
complete emptying of the lower bowels leads at once to favourable
symptoms. From the other side, it has been shown by experiment that
artificial retention of the fæces by ligature of the rectum puts the body in a
grave condition.
If we collect our knowledge of all the facts, we cannot doubt but that the
cause of the evil is multiplication of microbes in the contents of the large
intestine. When the fæcal matter is free from microbes, as is the case with
the meconium of the fœtus or new-born infant, it is not a source of danger
to the organism. The waste of cells and the secretions which are added to
the undigested food cannot do any harm. Amongst the microbes of the gut,
there are some that are inoffensive, but others are known to have pernicious
properties.
The ill-health which follows retention of fæcal matter is certainly due to the
action of some of the microbes of the gut. There are difficulties, however, in
arms.” The illness may lead to death but is generally cured by simple
purging.
Women in pregnancy and child-birth frequently suffer much as the result of
retention of fæcal matter, and physicians are familiar with the symptoms,
which have been described as follows by M. Bouchet52:—“After normal
parturition, in the course of which the usual antiseptic precautions have
been fully pursued, and where delivery has been complete and natural,
occasionally the patient is seized with chill and headache. The breath is
fetid and the tongue foul. The temperature, taken in the axilla, is nearly
101° Fahr. The abdomen is inflated and painful in the umbilical region.
Palpation in the iliac fossæ reveals lumps or consolidations along the colon.
Thirst is intense, and there is complete anorexy. On questioning, it is found
that there has not been defæcation for several days. The treatment consists
of purgatives, enemas, and milk diet. In the next few days the bowels are
emptied freely, the abdominal pain ceases, the temperature becomes lower,
appetite is restored, and the patient recovers.”
Those who suffer from affections of the heart, liver, or kidneys are specially
susceptible to the evil results of retained fæcal matter. In such patients an
error of diet or constipation may bring about most serious consequences.
Such facts are well known to physicians, and it has been established that
complete emptying of the lower bowels leads at once to favourable
symptoms. From the other side, it has been shown by experiment that
artificial retention of the fæces by ligature of the rectum puts the body in a
grave condition.
If we collect our knowledge of all the facts, we cannot doubt but that the
cause of the evil is multiplication of microbes in the contents of the large
intestine. When the fæcal matter is free from microbes, as is the case with
the meconium of the fœtus or new-born infant, it is not a source of danger
to the organism. The waste of cells and the secretions which are added to
the undigested food cannot do any harm. Amongst the microbes of the gut,
there are some that are inoffensive, but others are known to have pernicious
properties.
The ill-health which follows retention of fæcal matter is certainly due to the
action of some of the microbes of the gut. There are difficulties, however, in
Page 66
determining the precise mode of action of these microbes. It is generally
believed that they form poisonous substances which are absorbed by the
walls of the intestine and so pass into the system. The phrase auto-
intoxication as applied to infants, women in labour, and patients affected
with diseases of the heart, liver, or kidneys, is based on this interpretation of
the morbid processes involved. Attempts have been made to isolate and
study the poisons in question, but there are many difficulties in the way. To
distinguish between the actions of the poisons and of the microbes
themselves, the latter have been destroyed by heat or by antiseptics, or been
removed by filtration. Such methods, however, may alter the poisons and so
are inconclusive. MM. Charron and Le Play53 have tried to obtain exact
results by heating the intestinal microbes to a temperature of about 136°
Fahr., a process which probably does not seriously deteriorate the microbial
poisons. Such material, injected into the veins of rabbits in large quantities,
rapidly produced death, or in smaller quantities, proportionate ill-health.
Kukula54 has tried to produce this toxic action in animals, employing
microbial secretions obtained from cases of intestinal obstruction. He
succeeded in producing serious symptoms, such as vomiting and curvature
of the neck and back, in fact, precisely the sequence of events familiar in
cases of obstruction of the bowels or other retentions of fæcal matter.
Some of the products of the intestinal flora are undoubtedly toxic, such as
the benzol derivatives (phenol, etc.) ammonium and other salts. Many of
these toxins have been insufficiently studied, but it is well known that
certain of them can be absorbed by the wall of the gut and act as poisons. A
well known case is the toxin of botulism which was isolated and studied by
M. van Ermenghem.55 The poison, the product of a microbe which causes
serious intestinal disturbance, is so fatal that a single drop given to a rabbit
produces death after symptoms similar to those observed in cases of human
beings poisoned by stale food. Butyric acid and the products of albuminous
putrefaction are amongst the most pernicious of the microbial poisons
produced in the large intestine. It is familiar that digestive disturbance is
frequently associated with discharges of sulphuretted hydrogen and putrid
excreta, and there is no doubt but that the microbes of putrefaction are the
cause of these symptoms.
believed that they form poisonous substances which are absorbed by the
walls of the intestine and so pass into the system. The phrase auto-
intoxication as applied to infants, women in labour, and patients affected
with diseases of the heart, liver, or kidneys, is based on this interpretation of
the morbid processes involved. Attempts have been made to isolate and
study the poisons in question, but there are many difficulties in the way. To
distinguish between the actions of the poisons and of the microbes
themselves, the latter have been destroyed by heat or by antiseptics, or been
removed by filtration. Such methods, however, may alter the poisons and so
are inconclusive. MM. Charron and Le Play53 have tried to obtain exact
results by heating the intestinal microbes to a temperature of about 136°
Fahr., a process which probably does not seriously deteriorate the microbial
poisons. Such material, injected into the veins of rabbits in large quantities,
rapidly produced death, or in smaller quantities, proportionate ill-health.
Kukula54 has tried to produce this toxic action in animals, employing
microbial secretions obtained from cases of intestinal obstruction. He
succeeded in producing serious symptoms, such as vomiting and curvature
of the neck and back, in fact, precisely the sequence of events familiar in
cases of obstruction of the bowels or other retentions of fæcal matter.
Some of the products of the intestinal flora are undoubtedly toxic, such as
the benzol derivatives (phenol, etc.) ammonium and other salts. Many of
these toxins have been insufficiently studied, but it is well known that
certain of them can be absorbed by the wall of the gut and act as poisons. A
well known case is the toxin of botulism which was isolated and studied by
M. van Ermenghem.55 The poison, the product of a microbe which causes
serious intestinal disturbance, is so fatal that a single drop given to a rabbit
produces death after symptoms similar to those observed in cases of human
beings poisoned by stale food. Butyric acid and the products of albuminous
putrefaction are amongst the most pernicious of the microbial poisons
produced in the large intestine. It is familiar that digestive disturbance is
frequently associated with discharges of sulphuretted hydrogen and putrid
excreta, and there is no doubt but that the microbes of putrefaction are the
cause of these symptoms.
Page 67
It has been assumed for long that the retention of fæcal matter tends to
putrefactive changes in the intestines, and that the evil consequences of
constipation are due to this. Recently, however, bacteriologists have
criticised this accepted view, on account of the small number of microbes
found in the excreta of constipated persons. Strasburger was the first to
establish the fact, and his associate, Schmidt, showed that putrefaction did
not follow when readily putrescible substances were infected with material
taken from cases of constipation. However, notwithstanding the exactness
of these facts, I cannot accept the inference which has been drawn from
them. The excreta discharged naturally in cases of constipation do not give
a correct indication of the conditions inside the gut; whilst such matter
contains few microbes, the substance removed after injection by an enema
is extremely rich in bacteria. Moreover, analysis of the urine, in cases of
constipation, shows an excess of the sulpho-conjugate ethers which are
known to be products of intestinal putrefaction.
Not only is there auto-intoxication from the microbial poisons absorbed in
cases of constipation, but microbes themselves may pass through the walls
of the intestine and enter the blood. In the maladies that are the result of
constipation some of the symptoms recall those of direct infection, and it is
highly probable that, if special investigations were made, microbes of
intestinal origin would be found in the blood of the sick children and the
pregnant or parturient women whose symptoms I have described above.
The question as to the passage of microbes through the intestinal walls is
one of the most controversial of bacteriological problems, and there is little
agreement in the numerous publications regarding it. None the less, it is far
from impossible to get a general idea of what goes on in an intestinal tract
richly charged with microbes.
Although the intestinal wall in an intact state offers a substantial obstacle to
the passage of bacteria, it is incontestable that some of these pass through it
into the organs and the blood. Numerous experiments performed on
different kinds of animals (horses, dogs, rabbits, etc.) show that some of the
microbes taken with food traverse the wall of the alimentary canal and
come to occupy the adjacent lymphatic glands, the lungs, the spleen and the
liver, whilst they are occasionally found in the blood and lymph. Discussion
has taken place as to whether the passage takes place when the wall of the
gut is absolutely intact or only when it is injured to however small an
putrefactive changes in the intestines, and that the evil consequences of
constipation are due to this. Recently, however, bacteriologists have
criticised this accepted view, on account of the small number of microbes
found in the excreta of constipated persons. Strasburger was the first to
establish the fact, and his associate, Schmidt, showed that putrefaction did
not follow when readily putrescible substances were infected with material
taken from cases of constipation. However, notwithstanding the exactness
of these facts, I cannot accept the inference which has been drawn from
them. The excreta discharged naturally in cases of constipation do not give
a correct indication of the conditions inside the gut; whilst such matter
contains few microbes, the substance removed after injection by an enema
is extremely rich in bacteria. Moreover, analysis of the urine, in cases of
constipation, shows an excess of the sulpho-conjugate ethers which are
known to be products of intestinal putrefaction.
Not only is there auto-intoxication from the microbial poisons absorbed in
cases of constipation, but microbes themselves may pass through the walls
of the intestine and enter the blood. In the maladies that are the result of
constipation some of the symptoms recall those of direct infection, and it is
highly probable that, if special investigations were made, microbes of
intestinal origin would be found in the blood of the sick children and the
pregnant or parturient women whose symptoms I have described above.
The question as to the passage of microbes through the intestinal walls is
one of the most controversial of bacteriological problems, and there is little
agreement in the numerous publications regarding it. None the less, it is far
from impossible to get a general idea of what goes on in an intestinal tract
richly charged with microbes.
Although the intestinal wall in an intact state offers a substantial obstacle to
the passage of bacteria, it is incontestable that some of these pass through it
into the organs and the blood. Numerous experiments performed on
different kinds of animals (horses, dogs, rabbits, etc.) show that some of the
microbes taken with food traverse the wall of the alimentary canal and
come to occupy the adjacent lymphatic glands, the lungs, the spleen and the
liver, whilst they are occasionally found in the blood and lymph. Discussion
has taken place as to whether the passage takes place when the wall of the
gut is absolutely intact or only when it is injured to however small an
Page 68
extent. It would be extremely difficult to settle the question definitely, but it
is easy to see that it has little practical bearing. It is known that the wall of
the gut is damaged extremely easily, so that the bluntest sound can hardly
be passed into the stomach without making a wound through which
microbes can pass into the tissues and blood. In the ordinary course of life,
the delicate wall of the gut must often undergo slight wounding, and the
frequent presence of microbes in the mesenteric ganglia of healthy animals
shows clearly what takes place.56
It is indubitable, therefore, that the intestinal microbes or their poisons may
reach the system generally and bring harm to it. I infer from the facts that
the more a digestive tract is charged with microbes, the more it is a source
of harm capable of shortening life.
As the large intestine not only is the part of the digestive tube most richly
charged with microbes, but is relatively more capacious in mammals than in
any other vertebrates, it is a just inference that the duration of life of
mammals has been notably shortened as the result of chronic poisoning
from an abundant intestinal flora.
IV
MICROBES AS THE CAUSE OF SENILITY
Relations between longevity and the intestinal flora—Ruminants—The Horse—Intestinal
flora of birds—Intestinal flora of cursorial birds—Duration of life in cursorial birds—
Flying mammals—Intestinal flora and longevity of bats—Some exceptions to the rule—
Resistance of the lower vertebrates to certain intestinal microbes
In the actual state of our knowledge it is impossible to make a final
examination of my hypothesis, as there are many factors about which we
are incompletely informed. Nevertheless, it is possible to confront the
hypothesis with a large number of accurately established facts.
Although the life of most mammals is relatively short, there are to be found
in the group some which live relatively long, as well as others whose life is
short. The elephant is an example of the long-lived mammals, whilst
is easy to see that it has little practical bearing. It is known that the wall of
the gut is damaged extremely easily, so that the bluntest sound can hardly
be passed into the stomach without making a wound through which
microbes can pass into the tissues and blood. In the ordinary course of life,
the delicate wall of the gut must often undergo slight wounding, and the
frequent presence of microbes in the mesenteric ganglia of healthy animals
shows clearly what takes place.56
It is indubitable, therefore, that the intestinal microbes or their poisons may
reach the system generally and bring harm to it. I infer from the facts that
the more a digestive tract is charged with microbes, the more it is a source
of harm capable of shortening life.
As the large intestine not only is the part of the digestive tube most richly
charged with microbes, but is relatively more capacious in mammals than in
any other vertebrates, it is a just inference that the duration of life of
mammals has been notably shortened as the result of chronic poisoning
from an abundant intestinal flora.
IV
MICROBES AS THE CAUSE OF SENILITY
Relations between longevity and the intestinal flora—Ruminants—The Horse—Intestinal
flora of birds—Intestinal flora of cursorial birds—Duration of life in cursorial birds—
Flying mammals—Intestinal flora and longevity of bats—Some exceptions to the rule—
Resistance of the lower vertebrates to certain intestinal microbes
In the actual state of our knowledge it is impossible to make a final
examination of my hypothesis, as there are many factors about which we
are incompletely informed. Nevertheless, it is possible to confront the
hypothesis with a large number of accurately established facts.
Although the life of most mammals is relatively short, there are to be found
in the group some which live relatively long, as well as others whose life is
short. The elephant is an example of the long-lived mammals, whilst
Page 69
ruminants are short-lived forms. In the last chapter, I stated that sheep and
cattle became senile at an early age, and did not live long. They are striking
exceptions to the rule according to which the duration of life is in direct
relation with the size and length of the period of growth. The cow, which is
much larger than a woman, and the time of gestation of which is about the
same, or a little longer, acquires its teeth at four years old, and becomes
senile at an early age; it is quite old at between sixteen and seventeen, an
age when a woman is hardly adult; at the age of thirty, practically the
extreme limit for bovine animals, a woman is in full vigour.
The precocious old age of ruminants, the constitution of which is well
understood, and which are carefully tended, coincides with an extraordinary
richness of the intestinal flora. Food remains for a long time in the
complicated stomach of these animals, and afterwards the digested masses
remain still longer in the large intestine. According to Stohmann and
Weiske,57 in the case of sheep it is a week until the remains of a particular
meal have finally left the body of the animal. The excreta of sheep,
normally solid, do not betray any special putrefaction in the intestine, but if
the body is opened there is abundant evidence of the process. The intestinal
contents are richly charged with microbes and give off a strong odour of
putrefaction. It is not surprising that under these conditions, the life of
sheep should be short.
Another large herbivorous animal, the horse, also dies young, after a
premature old age. Although it does not ruminate and possesses a simple
stomach, the process of digestion is slow, and enormous masses of nutritive
material accumulate in the huge large intestine. Ellenberger and
Hofmeister58 have shown that food remains in the alimentary canal for
nearly four days. It remains in the stomach and the small intestine only 24
hours, but about three times as long in the large intestine. This is
remarkably different from what happens in the case of birds, in which there
is no stagnation during the passage of food through the digestive canal.
The structure of birds is adapted for flight, the body being as light as
possible, many of the bones and the cavities of the body containing air-sacs.
The absence of a bladder and of a true large intestine prevents the
accumulation of excreta, these being ejected almost as rapidly as they are
formed. The process of ejection, which takes place often in birds, is not so
inconvenient as in mammals. The hind limbs are not used in flight, so that
cattle became senile at an early age, and did not live long. They are striking
exceptions to the rule according to which the duration of life is in direct
relation with the size and length of the period of growth. The cow, which is
much larger than a woman, and the time of gestation of which is about the
same, or a little longer, acquires its teeth at four years old, and becomes
senile at an early age; it is quite old at between sixteen and seventeen, an
age when a woman is hardly adult; at the age of thirty, practically the
extreme limit for bovine animals, a woman is in full vigour.
The precocious old age of ruminants, the constitution of which is well
understood, and which are carefully tended, coincides with an extraordinary
richness of the intestinal flora. Food remains for a long time in the
complicated stomach of these animals, and afterwards the digested masses
remain still longer in the large intestine. According to Stohmann and
Weiske,57 in the case of sheep it is a week until the remains of a particular
meal have finally left the body of the animal. The excreta of sheep,
normally solid, do not betray any special putrefaction in the intestine, but if
the body is opened there is abundant evidence of the process. The intestinal
contents are richly charged with microbes and give off a strong odour of
putrefaction. It is not surprising that under these conditions, the life of
sheep should be short.
Another large herbivorous animal, the horse, also dies young, after a
premature old age. Although it does not ruminate and possesses a simple
stomach, the process of digestion is slow, and enormous masses of nutritive
material accumulate in the huge large intestine. Ellenberger and
Hofmeister58 have shown that food remains in the alimentary canal for
nearly four days. It remains in the stomach and the small intestine only 24
hours, but about three times as long in the large intestine. This is
remarkably different from what happens in the case of birds, in which there
is no stagnation during the passage of food through the digestive canal.
The structure of birds is adapted for flight, the body being as light as
possible, many of the bones and the cavities of the body containing air-sacs.
The absence of a bladder and of a true large intestine prevents the
accumulation of excreta, these being ejected almost as rapidly as they are
formed. The process of ejection, which takes place often in birds, is not so
inconvenient as in mammals. The hind limbs are not used in flight, so that
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they offer no obstacle to evacuation. Thus birds may discharge their
droppings while flying.
Such structure and habits make it not surprising that the alimentary canal of
many birds contains only a scanty intestinal flora. Parrots, for instance,
which are remarkably long-lived birds, harbour very few microbes in the
intestine. The small intestine contains almost none, the rectum so few that
the fæcal matter appears to be formed of mucus, the waste of the food, and
only a very few microbes. M. Michel Cohendy, who has examined the
intestinal flora at the Pasteur Institute, was unable to isolate more than five
different species of microbes living in the alimentary canal of parrots.
Even in birds of prey which feed upon putrid flesh, the number of microbes
in the intestine is remarkably limited. I have investigated the case of ravens
which I fed on flesh which was putrid and swarming with microbes. The
droppings contained very few bacteria, and it was specially remarkable that
the intestines had not the slightest smell of putrefaction. Although the
opened body of a herbivorous mammal, such as a rabbit, gives off a strong
smell of putrefaction, the body of a raven with the digestive tube exposed
has no unpleasant smell. This absence of putrefaction in the intestine is
probably the reason of the great longevity of such birds as parrots, ravens,
and their allies.
It might be said, however, that the long duration of life in birds is due to the
organisation of these animals, rather than to the scantiness of their intestinal
flora. To meet this objection, it is necessary to turn to the case of cursorial
birds.
There are some birds incapable of flight, the wings of which are badly
developed, but which have strong limbs, and can run with great rapidity.
Ostriches, cassowaries, rheas, and tinamous, are well known examples of
cursorial birds. They live on the surface of the ground, and their habits
resemble those of mammals. When they are attacked by enemies, they
escape by running so quickly that some of them (ostriches and rheas)
outstrip even a horse. However, like mammals, they cannot discharge their
secretions when they are running quickly. Tinamous (Rhynchotus
rufescens), which I have observed in captivity, however quickly they may
be running, stop abruptly to discharge their excretions. M. Debreuil, at my
request, made observations on this matter, and assured me that the tinamous
droppings while flying.
Such structure and habits make it not surprising that the alimentary canal of
many birds contains only a scanty intestinal flora. Parrots, for instance,
which are remarkably long-lived birds, harbour very few microbes in the
intestine. The small intestine contains almost none, the rectum so few that
the fæcal matter appears to be formed of mucus, the waste of the food, and
only a very few microbes. M. Michel Cohendy, who has examined the
intestinal flora at the Pasteur Institute, was unable to isolate more than five
different species of microbes living in the alimentary canal of parrots.
Even in birds of prey which feed upon putrid flesh, the number of microbes
in the intestine is remarkably limited. I have investigated the case of ravens
which I fed on flesh which was putrid and swarming with microbes. The
droppings contained very few bacteria, and it was specially remarkable that
the intestines had not the slightest smell of putrefaction. Although the
opened body of a herbivorous mammal, such as a rabbit, gives off a strong
smell of putrefaction, the body of a raven with the digestive tube exposed
has no unpleasant smell. This absence of putrefaction in the intestine is
probably the reason of the great longevity of such birds as parrots, ravens,
and their allies.
It might be said, however, that the long duration of life in birds is due to the
organisation of these animals, rather than to the scantiness of their intestinal
flora. To meet this objection, it is necessary to turn to the case of cursorial
birds.
There are some birds incapable of flight, the wings of which are badly
developed, but which have strong limbs, and can run with great rapidity.
Ostriches, cassowaries, rheas, and tinamous, are well known examples of
cursorial birds. They live on the surface of the ground, and their habits
resemble those of mammals. When they are attacked by enemies, they
escape by running so quickly that some of them (ostriches and rheas)
outstrip even a horse. However, like mammals, they cannot discharge their
secretions when they are running quickly. Tinamous (Rhynchotus
rufescens), which I have observed in captivity, however quickly they may
be running, stop abruptly to discharge their excretions. M. Debreuil, at my
request, made observations on this matter, and assured me that the tinamous
Page 71
and rheas (Rhea americana) in his park always stood still for this purpose.
He has noticed that the droppings, however abundant, were always
deposited in heaps. With regard to ostriches, M. Rivière, director of the
experimental Gardens at Hamma, Algeria, has been kind enough to give me
the following information. “The discharge of excreta,” he said in a letter in
January, 1901, “is less frequent than in other birds, but the comparatively
small size of the enclosures here makes it impossible for me to assert that
the animal could discharge its droppings if it were running for a length of
time; a priori I should think that this did not happen. Normally the bird
stands still for defæcation, the tuft of feathers on the tail is lifted up, and
there is a violent contraction of the abdominal muscles before the sphincters
of the cloaca are suddenly opened to discharge the excrement with
violence.”
I believe that the remarkable development of the large intestine in these
running birds has been acquired to obviate the danger which is caused by
the animal having to stop for defæcation. Although the huge cæca of these
birds have a digestive function, particularly on plants rich in cellulose, I
cannot think that the cæca of cursorial birds have been developed for
digestion. As a matter of fact, some birds which are not cursorial live on the
same kind of food (herbage, seeds, and insects) and have much smaller
cæca, the cæca indeed, in some, for instance, the pigeons, being quite
rudimentary.
He has noticed that the droppings, however abundant, were always
deposited in heaps. With regard to ostriches, M. Rivière, director of the
experimental Gardens at Hamma, Algeria, has been kind enough to give me
the following information. “The discharge of excreta,” he said in a letter in
January, 1901, “is less frequent than in other birds, but the comparatively
small size of the enclosures here makes it impossible for me to assert that
the animal could discharge its droppings if it were running for a length of
time; a priori I should think that this did not happen. Normally the bird
stands still for defæcation, the tuft of feathers on the tail is lifted up, and
there is a violent contraction of the abdominal muscles before the sphincters
of the cloaca are suddenly opened to discharge the excrement with
violence.”
I believe that the remarkable development of the large intestine in these
running birds has been acquired to obviate the danger which is caused by
the animal having to stop for defæcation. Although the huge cæca of these
birds have a digestive function, particularly on plants rich in cellulose, I
cannot think that the cæca of cursorial birds have been developed for
digestion. As a matter of fact, some birds which are not cursorial live on the
same kind of food (herbage, seeds, and insects) and have much smaller
cæca, the cæca indeed, in some, for instance, the pigeons, being quite
rudimentary.
Page 72
Fig. 14.—Intestinal microbes from the cæca of a Rhea.
It is not surprising that the accumulation of food material in the large
intestine of running birds is associated with the presence of an extremely
rich intestinal flora. Microscopic examination of the excrement of such
birds shows this at once. Although the intestinal contents and excrement of
many other birds show the presence of very few microbes, belonging to a
small number of species, the same materials taken from running birds show
enormous quantities of microbes, belonging to a large number of species. In
the cæcum of the rhea (Fig. 14) there are bacterial threads, spirilla, bacilli,
vibrios, and many kinds of cocci. In the tinamous, the intestinal flora is if
possible even richer. According to the statistical investigations of M. Michel
Cohendy, the quantity of intestinal microbes in cursorial birds is not less
than that found in mammals, even in man.
If I am correct in the view that I have been explaining, cursorial birds, on
account of their rich intestinal flora, ought to have a shorter duration of life
than that of flying birds. I will now turn to this side of the question.
Amongst cursorial forms, there are some of the largest living birds,
ostriches being actually the largest living birds, whilst an extinct running
bird, the Aepyornis of Madagascar, was the largest known bird. According
to the rule that large animals live longer than small animals, ostriches
should be able to reach a great age. The facts, however, are against this. M.
Rivière, who rears ostriches in Algeria, and has a great experience of them,
writes to me as follows: “I have no confidence in the stories about the
longevity of the ostrich which were told me in the Sahara; they rest on no
facts. My personal observation is not very large, but it is quite exact. Some
It is not surprising that the accumulation of food material in the large
intestine of running birds is associated with the presence of an extremely
rich intestinal flora. Microscopic examination of the excrement of such
birds shows this at once. Although the intestinal contents and excrement of
many other birds show the presence of very few microbes, belonging to a
small number of species, the same materials taken from running birds show
enormous quantities of microbes, belonging to a large number of species. In
the cæcum of the rhea (Fig. 14) there are bacterial threads, spirilla, bacilli,
vibrios, and many kinds of cocci. In the tinamous, the intestinal flora is if
possible even richer. According to the statistical investigations of M. Michel
Cohendy, the quantity of intestinal microbes in cursorial birds is not less
than that found in mammals, even in man.
If I am correct in the view that I have been explaining, cursorial birds, on
account of their rich intestinal flora, ought to have a shorter duration of life
than that of flying birds. I will now turn to this side of the question.
Amongst cursorial forms, there are some of the largest living birds,
ostriches being actually the largest living birds, whilst an extinct running
bird, the Aepyornis of Madagascar, was the largest known bird. According
to the rule that large animals live longer than small animals, ostriches
should be able to reach a great age. The facts, however, are against this. M.
Rivière, who rears ostriches in Algeria, and has a great experience of them,
writes to me as follows: “I have no confidence in the stories about the
longevity of the ostrich which were told me in the Sahara; they rest on no
facts. My personal observation is not very large, but it is quite exact. Some
Page 73
of the ostriches which have been hatched here have lived for 26 years. I do
not estimate the duration of life of this bird at more than 35 years, and only
one case of this age have I seen myself in 20 years. The bird was a female, a
good layer and sitter; she died of old age, showing all the signs of
decrepitude, the skin excoriated and lumpy, the feathers degenerate and dry.
The bird laid eggs until nearly the end of her life, but at irregular intervals,
and the shells were granular instead of being smooth and polished.”
In a farm near Nice, where ostriches are reared, there was recently an old
male called “Kruger,” which was supposed to be 50 years old.59 Countess
Stackelberg has been good enough to try to get information for me about
this, and informs me that although they have not exact knowledge at the
farm, they believe that it must be 50 years old. M. Rivière thinks this
statement very surprising, and has nothing in his own long experience to
confirm it.
The facts which I have been able to get together do not attribute a long life
to other running birds. Gurney mentions that a cassowary (Casuarius
westermanni) lived 26 years in the Zoological Gardens of Rotterdam, and
that three Australian emus (Dromaeus novae-hollandiae) had lived in the
same Gardens for 28, 22, and 20 years. M. Oustalet (Ornis, 1899, vol. x, p.
62) mentions another emu of the same species which died in London at the
age of over 23 years. The rhea (Rhea americana), another large running
bird, does not live so long. “Boecking thinks that its duration of life should
be set down at from 14 to 15 years. According to him, many of these birds
die of old age.” (Brehm, Oiseaux, vol. ii, p. 517).
It is striking to compare the short life of cursorial birds, which nevertheless
thrive and reproduce in captivity, with the remarkable longevity of so many
other birds (parrots, birds of prey) which, although they are much smaller,
have been kept alive for from 80 to 100 years. It would be difficult to find a
more striking argument in favour of the view that richness of the intestinal
flora shortens life. When birds become adapted to terrestrial life and acquire
a huge large intestine in which microbes can abound, their duration of life is
diminished.
Just as some birds, losing the aerial mode of life, have come to resemble
mammals, so also some mammals have become flying animals, provided
with wings and in some respects resembling birds. Bats are the most
not estimate the duration of life of this bird at more than 35 years, and only
one case of this age have I seen myself in 20 years. The bird was a female, a
good layer and sitter; she died of old age, showing all the signs of
decrepitude, the skin excoriated and lumpy, the feathers degenerate and dry.
The bird laid eggs until nearly the end of her life, but at irregular intervals,
and the shells were granular instead of being smooth and polished.”
In a farm near Nice, where ostriches are reared, there was recently an old
male called “Kruger,” which was supposed to be 50 years old.59 Countess
Stackelberg has been good enough to try to get information for me about
this, and informs me that although they have not exact knowledge at the
farm, they believe that it must be 50 years old. M. Rivière thinks this
statement very surprising, and has nothing in his own long experience to
confirm it.
The facts which I have been able to get together do not attribute a long life
to other running birds. Gurney mentions that a cassowary (Casuarius
westermanni) lived 26 years in the Zoological Gardens of Rotterdam, and
that three Australian emus (Dromaeus novae-hollandiae) had lived in the
same Gardens for 28, 22, and 20 years. M. Oustalet (Ornis, 1899, vol. x, p.
62) mentions another emu of the same species which died in London at the
age of over 23 years. The rhea (Rhea americana), another large running
bird, does not live so long. “Boecking thinks that its duration of life should
be set down at from 14 to 15 years. According to him, many of these birds
die of old age.” (Brehm, Oiseaux, vol. ii, p. 517).
It is striking to compare the short life of cursorial birds, which nevertheless
thrive and reproduce in captivity, with the remarkable longevity of so many
other birds (parrots, birds of prey) which, although they are much smaller,
have been kept alive for from 80 to 100 years. It would be difficult to find a
more striking argument in favour of the view that richness of the intestinal
flora shortens life. When birds become adapted to terrestrial life and acquire
a huge large intestine in which microbes can abound, their duration of life is
diminished.
Just as some birds, losing the aerial mode of life, have come to resemble
mammals, so also some mammals have become flying animals, provided
with wings and in some respects resembling birds. Bats are the most
Page 74
familiar instance. The large intestine, which is extremely useful to running
animals, not only ceases to be an advantage but is harmful to flying
creatures, insomuch as it increases the weight of the body uselessly. Bats,
accordingly, have no cæcum whilst the large intestine is changed in
structure and function. Instead of being a capacious tube, serving as a
reservoir for the refuse of the food, the large intestine of bats has the same
diameter as the small intestine. Its structure is nearly identical. It is
provided with glands, and as I have already mentioned in the last chapter, it
digests the food in the same way as the small intestine. In fact, the large
intestine has become simply a part of the small intestine, the total length of
the gut being reduced. Bats, therefore, can no longer retain their secretions
but have to empty the intestine almost as often as most birds. I find that
Indian fruit bats (Pteropus medius) discharge their excreta very often.
Microscopic examination shows that there is an absence of microbes quite
unusual in the case of a mammal. The alimentary canal of bats is nearly
aseptic, containing only a few single bacteria. I have fed these fruit bats
with the same food (carrots) which I have given to rabbits, guinea pigs, and
mice; whilst the bats accomplished the process of digestion in 1-1/2 hours,
and deposited excreta containing fragments of carrot, the rodents took very
much longer for digestion and large quantities of waste matter accumulated
in the cæca. The intestinal flora too, although the food in each case was the
same, showed remarkable differences in these animals. It was almost absent
in the bats, whilst in the rabbits, guinea-pigs and mice it consisted of a mass
of microbes of different species. The excrement of the bats had no
unpleasant odour, and the digestive canal of these bird-like mammals was
free from putrefaction. Fruit bats fed upon fruit discharged excreta with a
pleasant odour of apples and bananas. We have seen that birds which live a
life similar to that of mammals acquire a rich intestinal flora and do not live
so long as aerial birds. It would be extremely interesting to ascertain the
duration of life of bats, mammals which live like birds and have a very
scanty intestinal flora. I have been unable to get any exact information as to
the duration of life of the true bats, that is to say, the insectivorous bats, as
all the requests that I have addressed to specialists have proved fruitless. It
appears, however, that it is a popular belief that bats live long. There is a
Flemish phrase: “as long-lived as a bat,” and a similar phrase is common in
Little Russia.
animals, not only ceases to be an advantage but is harmful to flying
creatures, insomuch as it increases the weight of the body uselessly. Bats,
accordingly, have no cæcum whilst the large intestine is changed in
structure and function. Instead of being a capacious tube, serving as a
reservoir for the refuse of the food, the large intestine of bats has the same
diameter as the small intestine. Its structure is nearly identical. It is
provided with glands, and as I have already mentioned in the last chapter, it
digests the food in the same way as the small intestine. In fact, the large
intestine has become simply a part of the small intestine, the total length of
the gut being reduced. Bats, therefore, can no longer retain their secretions
but have to empty the intestine almost as often as most birds. I find that
Indian fruit bats (Pteropus medius) discharge their excreta very often.
Microscopic examination shows that there is an absence of microbes quite
unusual in the case of a mammal. The alimentary canal of bats is nearly
aseptic, containing only a few single bacteria. I have fed these fruit bats
with the same food (carrots) which I have given to rabbits, guinea pigs, and
mice; whilst the bats accomplished the process of digestion in 1-1/2 hours,
and deposited excreta containing fragments of carrot, the rodents took very
much longer for digestion and large quantities of waste matter accumulated
in the cæca. The intestinal flora too, although the food in each case was the
same, showed remarkable differences in these animals. It was almost absent
in the bats, whilst in the rabbits, guinea-pigs and mice it consisted of a mass
of microbes of different species. The excrement of the bats had no
unpleasant odour, and the digestive canal of these bird-like mammals was
free from putrefaction. Fruit bats fed upon fruit discharged excreta with a
pleasant odour of apples and bananas. We have seen that birds which live a
life similar to that of mammals acquire a rich intestinal flora and do not live
so long as aerial birds. It would be extremely interesting to ascertain the
duration of life of bats, mammals which live like birds and have a very
scanty intestinal flora. I have been unable to get any exact information as to
the duration of life of the true bats, that is to say, the insectivorous bats, as
all the requests that I have addressed to specialists have proved fruitless. It
appears, however, that it is a popular belief that bats live long. There is a
Flemish phrase: “as long-lived as a bat,” and a similar phrase is common in
Little Russia.
Page 75
As for the fruit-eating bats, I have been able to ascertain that even in
captivity, where the conditions are unfavourable to them, the duration of life
is relatively long. I have had in my own possession a fruit bat (Pteropus
medius) which was bought in Marseilles 14 years ago. It showed no signs of
old age, and the teeth were in perfect condition. It died of some acute
disease accidentally contracted. I know of another bat of the same species
which lived in captivity for more than 15 years, and I have been informed
that60 in the London Zoological Gardens, a fruit bat has lived for 17 years.
If these bats were adult when caught, it would be necessary to add
something to the known figures.
Although I do not know the exact duration of the life of bats, it is clearly
relatively long for mammals no bigger than guinea-pigs. The difference is
remarkable if we compare it with the life of sheep, dogs and rabbits,
mammals very much larger in size, but possessed of a rich intestinal flora.
The series of facts that I have been discussing strengthens my conviction
that the intestinal flora is an extremely important factor in the causation of
senility. It must not be supposed, however, that all the known facts can be
explained equally easily on this hypothesis. The harm done by microbes
cannot always be measured by their abundance in the alimentary canal. In
the first place, it must be remembered that some microbes are useful;
moreover, microbes, even although their products are very dangerous, may
exist in quantities in an organism, and yet do no harm if the organism has
the power of resisting bacterial poisons. Thus, for instance, the bacillus of
tetanus, which thrives in the alimentary canal, and which can endanger life
if the wall of the gut is wounded, does not harm a crocodile or a tortoise, as
these animals are extremely resistant to the poison of tetanus. Dr. Favorsky,
by experiments at the Pasteur Institute, has shown that the poison of
botulism can be absorbed with impunity by some birds, and by tortoises,
although death follows if a very small quantity of it be introduced into the
alimentary canal of a mammal.
The bodies of man and of higher animals are possessed of a complex
mechanism which resists the harmful action of bacteria and their poisons.
The various parts of this mechanism may act differently, with the result that
there is great variation in the power of resistance. Thus, however abundant
microbes may be in the intestine, they may bring little harm to an organism
that has a high power of destruction or neutralisation of the toxins, or when
captivity, where the conditions are unfavourable to them, the duration of life
is relatively long. I have had in my own possession a fruit bat (Pteropus
medius) which was bought in Marseilles 14 years ago. It showed no signs of
old age, and the teeth were in perfect condition. It died of some acute
disease accidentally contracted. I know of another bat of the same species
which lived in captivity for more than 15 years, and I have been informed
that60 in the London Zoological Gardens, a fruit bat has lived for 17 years.
If these bats were adult when caught, it would be necessary to add
something to the known figures.
Although I do not know the exact duration of the life of bats, it is clearly
relatively long for mammals no bigger than guinea-pigs. The difference is
remarkable if we compare it with the life of sheep, dogs and rabbits,
mammals very much larger in size, but possessed of a rich intestinal flora.
The series of facts that I have been discussing strengthens my conviction
that the intestinal flora is an extremely important factor in the causation of
senility. It must not be supposed, however, that all the known facts can be
explained equally easily on this hypothesis. The harm done by microbes
cannot always be measured by their abundance in the alimentary canal. In
the first place, it must be remembered that some microbes are useful;
moreover, microbes, even although their products are very dangerous, may
exist in quantities in an organism, and yet do no harm if the organism has
the power of resisting bacterial poisons. Thus, for instance, the bacillus of
tetanus, which thrives in the alimentary canal, and which can endanger life
if the wall of the gut is wounded, does not harm a crocodile or a tortoise, as
these animals are extremely resistant to the poison of tetanus. Dr. Favorsky,
by experiments at the Pasteur Institute, has shown that the poison of
botulism can be absorbed with impunity by some birds, and by tortoises,
although death follows if a very small quantity of it be introduced into the
alimentary canal of a mammal.
The bodies of man and of higher animals are possessed of a complex
mechanism which resists the harmful action of bacteria and their poisons.
The various parts of this mechanism may act differently, with the result that
there is great variation in the power of resistance. Thus, however abundant
microbes may be in the intestine, they may bring little harm to an organism
that has a high power of destruction or neutralisation of the toxins, or when
Page 76
these harmful products are unable to pass through the intestinal wall. It is in
this way that I explain some exceptions to the general rule, which are
exceptions only in appearance. Such a case is that of the nocturnal birds of
prey. Although the diurnal birds of prey (eagles, vultures, etc.) have very
short cæca, in which the food is never found, owls have very large cæca,
which may be as long as 10 cm. (Eagle-Owl, Bubo maximus). These long
cæca, however, contain debris of the food only in the enlarged terminal
portion, and the food masses contain a very small number of microbes.
Notwithstanding a great difference in the length of the cæca between the
owls and the eagles, these two groups of birds do not differ greatly in
longevity. But the difference in the cæca does not imply a corresponding
difference in the intestinal flora which appears to be very scanty in both
cases.
It is possible that the elephant is a more real exception to the rule. Here is a
case of a mammal with an enormous large intestine and a capacious cæcum,
and which none the less is capable of surviving for a century. I have had no
opportunity of investigating the elephant from this point of view, and have
no explanation to suggest.
Monkeys and man differ from most mammals in so far as they possess a
long duration of life, although their large intestines are very capacious. I
have been unable to get exact information as to the longevity of monkeys,
but I understand that these animals live longer than domesticated mammals,
such as the ox, sheep, dog, and cat. Anthropoid apes are supposed to be able
to reach the age of 50 years. The only other mammal with a longevity
similar to that of the elephant is man.
V
DURATION OF HUMAN LIFE
Longevity of man—Theory of Ebstein on the normal duration of human life—Instances of
human longevity—Circumstances which may explain the long duration of human life
Man has inherited from his mammalian ancestors his organisation and
qualities. His life is notably shorter than that of many reptiles, but longer
this way that I explain some exceptions to the general rule, which are
exceptions only in appearance. Such a case is that of the nocturnal birds of
prey. Although the diurnal birds of prey (eagles, vultures, etc.) have very
short cæca, in which the food is never found, owls have very large cæca,
which may be as long as 10 cm. (Eagle-Owl, Bubo maximus). These long
cæca, however, contain debris of the food only in the enlarged terminal
portion, and the food masses contain a very small number of microbes.
Notwithstanding a great difference in the length of the cæca between the
owls and the eagles, these two groups of birds do not differ greatly in
longevity. But the difference in the cæca does not imply a corresponding
difference in the intestinal flora which appears to be very scanty in both
cases.
It is possible that the elephant is a more real exception to the rule. Here is a
case of a mammal with an enormous large intestine and a capacious cæcum,
and which none the less is capable of surviving for a century. I have had no
opportunity of investigating the elephant from this point of view, and have
no explanation to suggest.
Monkeys and man differ from most mammals in so far as they possess a
long duration of life, although their large intestines are very capacious. I
have been unable to get exact information as to the longevity of monkeys,
but I understand that these animals live longer than domesticated mammals,
such as the ox, sheep, dog, and cat. Anthropoid apes are supposed to be able
to reach the age of 50 years. The only other mammal with a longevity
similar to that of the elephant is man.
V
DURATION OF HUMAN LIFE
Longevity of man—Theory of Ebstein on the normal duration of human life—Instances of
human longevity—Circumstances which may explain the long duration of human life
Man has inherited from his mammalian ancestors his organisation and
qualities. His life is notably shorter than that of many reptiles, but longer
Page 77
than that of many birds and most other mammals. None the less he has
inherited a capacious large intestine in which a most abundant intestinal
flora flourishes.
Gestation and the period of growth are long in the human race, and from the
point of view of theoretical considerations, human longevity should be
longer than it generally is. Haller, a distinguished Swiss physiologist of the
18th century, thought that man ought to live to 200 years; Buffon was of the
opinion that when a man did not die from some accident or disease he
would reach 90 or 100 years.
According to Flourens, man takes 20 years to grow and ought to live 5
times 20, that is to say, 100 years.
The actual longevity is much below these figures, which are based on
theory. I have shown, moreover, that even if the rule based on the theory of
growth can be accepted as generally true, it cannot be applied in every case,
as the factors controlling duration of life are very variable.
Statistics show that the highest human mortality occurs in the earliest years
of life. In the first year after birth alone, one quarter of the children die.
After this period of maximum mortality, the death-rate slowly falls until the
age of puberty, and then rises again slowly and continuously. It reaches a
second maximum between the ages of 60 and 75, and then slowly falls
again to the extreme limit of longevity.
Bodio,61 an Italian man of science, holds the view that the great mortality of
infants is a natural adaptation to prevent too great an increase of the human
race. This view, however, cannot be supported, and rational hygiene readily
brings about a great diminution in the mortality of children. The cause of
mortality is in most cases maladies of the intestinal canal, produced by
erroneous diet, and with the advance of civilisation, infant mortality has
been very greatly reduced.
I find it impossible to accept the view that the high mortality between the
ages of 70 and 75 indicates a natural limit of human life. As a result of
investigations into mortality in most of the European countries, Lexis came
to the conclusion that the normal duration of human life was not more than
75 years. Dr. Ebstein62 accepts this statistical result and announces that “we
now know the normal limit set by nature to the life of mankind. This limit is
inherited a capacious large intestine in which a most abundant intestinal
flora flourishes.
Gestation and the period of growth are long in the human race, and from the
point of view of theoretical considerations, human longevity should be
longer than it generally is. Haller, a distinguished Swiss physiologist of the
18th century, thought that man ought to live to 200 years; Buffon was of the
opinion that when a man did not die from some accident or disease he
would reach 90 or 100 years.
According to Flourens, man takes 20 years to grow and ought to live 5
times 20, that is to say, 100 years.
The actual longevity is much below these figures, which are based on
theory. I have shown, moreover, that even if the rule based on the theory of
growth can be accepted as generally true, it cannot be applied in every case,
as the factors controlling duration of life are very variable.
Statistics show that the highest human mortality occurs in the earliest years
of life. In the first year after birth alone, one quarter of the children die.
After this period of maximum mortality, the death-rate slowly falls until the
age of puberty, and then rises again slowly and continuously. It reaches a
second maximum between the ages of 60 and 75, and then slowly falls
again to the extreme limit of longevity.
Bodio,61 an Italian man of science, holds the view that the great mortality of
infants is a natural adaptation to prevent too great an increase of the human
race. This view, however, cannot be supported, and rational hygiene readily
brings about a great diminution in the mortality of children. The cause of
mortality is in most cases maladies of the intestinal canal, produced by
erroneous diet, and with the advance of civilisation, infant mortality has
been very greatly reduced.
I find it impossible to accept the view that the high mortality between the
ages of 70 and 75 indicates a natural limit of human life. As a result of
investigations into mortality in most of the European countries, Lexis came
to the conclusion that the normal duration of human life was not more than
75 years. Dr. Ebstein62 accepts this statistical result and announces that “we
now know the normal limit set by nature to the life of mankind. This limit is
Page 78
at the age of maximum mortality. If man dies before then, his death is
premature. Everyone does not reach the normal limit; life ends generally
before it, and only in rare cases after it.”
The fact that many men of from 70 to 75 years old are well preserved, both
physically and intellectually, makes it impossible to regard that age as the
natural limit of human life. Philosophers such as Plato, poets such as
Goethe and Victor Hugo, artists such as Michael Angelo, Titian and Franz
Hals, produced some of their most important works when they had passed
what Lexis and Ebstein regard as the limit of life. Moreover, deaths of
people at that age are rarely due to senile debility. In Paris, for instance, in
1902, of cases of deaths between the ages of 70 and 74, only 8·5 per cent.
were due to old age.63 Infectious diseases, such as pneumonia, tuberculosis,
diseases of the heart and the kidneys, and cerebral hæmorrhage, caused
most of the deaths of these old people. Such cases of death, however, can
often be avoided and must be regarded as accidental rather than natural.
Confirmation of the view that the natural limit is not at 70 to 75 years is to
be found in the fact that so many men reach a greater age. Centenarians are
really not rare. In France, for instance, nearly one hundred and fifty people
die every year, after having reached the age of 100 or more. In 1836, in a
population of thirty-three millions and a half (33,540,910), there were 146
centenarians, that is to say, one in about 220,000 inhabitants. In some other
countries, particularly in Eastern Europe, the number of centenarians is still
greater. In Greece, for instance, there is a centenarian for each set of 25,641
living persons, that is to say, nine times as many as in France.64
What age can be reached by the human species? Formerly it was supposed
that individuals might live for several centuries; to say nothing of
Methuselah, whose age of 969 years, mentioned in the Bible, is the result of
a mistake in calculation, I may mention Nestor, who, according to Homer,
lived for three human ages, that is to say, 300 years, or Dando, the Illyrian,
and the King of the Lacedaemon, who were supposed to have reached ages
of five or six centuries. These ancient records are, of course, quite incorrect.
Much more confidence can be placed in some facts relating to more modern
times, according to which the extreme old age reached by man was 185
years. Kentigern, the founder of the Cathedral of Glasgow, known by the
name of St. Mungo, died at the age of 185, on Jan. 5th, 600.65 Another
premature. Everyone does not reach the normal limit; life ends generally
before it, and only in rare cases after it.”
The fact that many men of from 70 to 75 years old are well preserved, both
physically and intellectually, makes it impossible to regard that age as the
natural limit of human life. Philosophers such as Plato, poets such as
Goethe and Victor Hugo, artists such as Michael Angelo, Titian and Franz
Hals, produced some of their most important works when they had passed
what Lexis and Ebstein regard as the limit of life. Moreover, deaths of
people at that age are rarely due to senile debility. In Paris, for instance, in
1902, of cases of deaths between the ages of 70 and 74, only 8·5 per cent.
were due to old age.63 Infectious diseases, such as pneumonia, tuberculosis,
diseases of the heart and the kidneys, and cerebral hæmorrhage, caused
most of the deaths of these old people. Such cases of death, however, can
often be avoided and must be regarded as accidental rather than natural.
Confirmation of the view that the natural limit is not at 70 to 75 years is to
be found in the fact that so many men reach a greater age. Centenarians are
really not rare. In France, for instance, nearly one hundred and fifty people
die every year, after having reached the age of 100 or more. In 1836, in a
population of thirty-three millions and a half (33,540,910), there were 146
centenarians, that is to say, one in about 220,000 inhabitants. In some other
countries, particularly in Eastern Europe, the number of centenarians is still
greater. In Greece, for instance, there is a centenarian for each set of 25,641
living persons, that is to say, nine times as many as in France.64
What age can be reached by the human species? Formerly it was supposed
that individuals might live for several centuries; to say nothing of
Methuselah, whose age of 969 years, mentioned in the Bible, is the result of
a mistake in calculation, I may mention Nestor, who, according to Homer,
lived for three human ages, that is to say, 300 years, or Dando, the Illyrian,
and the King of the Lacedaemon, who were supposed to have reached ages
of five or six centuries. These ancient records are, of course, quite incorrect.
Much more confidence can be placed in some facts relating to more modern
times, according to which the extreme old age reached by man was 185
years. Kentigern, the founder of the Cathedral of Glasgow, known by the
name of St. Mungo, died at the age of 185, on Jan. 5th, 600.65 Another
Page 79
astonishing case of longevity is related from Hungary, where an
agriculturist, Pierre Zortay, born in 1539, died in 1724. The Hungarian
records of the 18th century contain other cases of death at ages between 147
and 172 years.
The case of Drakenberg is still more authentic; he was born in Norway in
1626 and died in 1772, at the age of 146. He was known as the Old Man of
the North. He had been captured by African pirates and was held by them
for fifteen years, and was engaged as a sailor for ninety-one years. His
romantic history attracted contemporary attention, and the journals of the
time (Gazette de France, 1764, Gazette d’Utrecht, 1767, etc.)66 contain
information regarding him. The well-known instance of Thomas Parr
appears to rest on good authority. Parr was a poor Shropshire peasant, who
did hard work until he was 130 years old, and who died in London at the
age of 152 years and 9 months. The celebrated Harvey examined the body
after death and was unable to discover organic disease; even the cartilages
of the ribs were not ossified and were elastic as in a young man. The brain,
however, was hard and resisting to the touch, as its blood-vessels were
thickened and dry. Parr was buried in Westminster Abbey.67
It appears, then, that human beings may reach the age of 150, but such cases
are certainly extremely rare, and are not known from the records of the last
two centuries. I cannot accept without a good deal of reserve the statements
as to two persons who died in the beginning of the 19th century at the ages
of 142 and 145. On the other hand, cases of duration of life from 100 to 120
years are not very rare.
Extreme longevity is not limited to the white races. According to
Prichard,68 negroes have lived respectively to 115, 160, and 180 years. In
the course of the 19th century there have been observed, in Senegal, eight
negroes ranging from 100 to 121 years old. M. Chemin69 saw himself in
1898 at Foundiougne an old man, whom the natives stated to be 108 years
of age; although he was in good health, he had been blind for several years.
The same author, on the authority of the New York Herald of June 13th,
1895, mentions the case of a coloured woman in North Carolina, who was
more than 140 years old, and of a man 125 years old.
Women more frequently become centenarians than men, although the
difference is not very great. For instance, in Greece, in 1885, in a
agriculturist, Pierre Zortay, born in 1539, died in 1724. The Hungarian
records of the 18th century contain other cases of death at ages between 147
and 172 years.
The case of Drakenberg is still more authentic; he was born in Norway in
1626 and died in 1772, at the age of 146. He was known as the Old Man of
the North. He had been captured by African pirates and was held by them
for fifteen years, and was engaged as a sailor for ninety-one years. His
romantic history attracted contemporary attention, and the journals of the
time (Gazette de France, 1764, Gazette d’Utrecht, 1767, etc.)66 contain
information regarding him. The well-known instance of Thomas Parr
appears to rest on good authority. Parr was a poor Shropshire peasant, who
did hard work until he was 130 years old, and who died in London at the
age of 152 years and 9 months. The celebrated Harvey examined the body
after death and was unable to discover organic disease; even the cartilages
of the ribs were not ossified and were elastic as in a young man. The brain,
however, was hard and resisting to the touch, as its blood-vessels were
thickened and dry. Parr was buried in Westminster Abbey.67
It appears, then, that human beings may reach the age of 150, but such cases
are certainly extremely rare, and are not known from the records of the last
two centuries. I cannot accept without a good deal of reserve the statements
as to two persons who died in the beginning of the 19th century at the ages
of 142 and 145. On the other hand, cases of duration of life from 100 to 120
years are not very rare.
Extreme longevity is not limited to the white races. According to
Prichard,68 negroes have lived respectively to 115, 160, and 180 years. In
the course of the 19th century there have been observed, in Senegal, eight
negroes ranging from 100 to 121 years old. M. Chemin69 saw himself in
1898 at Foundiougne an old man, whom the natives stated to be 108 years
of age; although he was in good health, he had been blind for several years.
The same author, on the authority of the New York Herald of June 13th,
1895, mentions the case of a coloured woman in North Carolina, who was
more than 140 years old, and of a man 125 years old.
Women more frequently become centenarians than men, although the
difference is not very great. For instance, in Greece, in 1885, in a
Page 80
population of nearly two millions (1,947,760), there were 278 persons aged
from 95 to 110 years, of whom 133 were male and 145 female.
In the seven years, from 1833 to 1839 inclusive, according to Chemin, there
were in Paris twenty-six men over the age of 95, and forty-five women.
Such facts, and many others, support the general proposition that male
mortality is always greater than that of the other sex.
In most cases centenarians are notably healthy and of strong constitution.
There are instances, however, of abnormal people having reached a great
age. A woman, called Nicoline Marc, died in 1760, at the age of 110. Since
she was two years old, her left arm was crippled. Her hand was bent under
the arm like a hook. She was a hunch-back, and so bent that she appeared to
be no more than four feet high. A Scotch woman, Elspeth Wilson, died at
the age of 115 years. She was quite a dwarf, being only a little over two feet
high. On the other hand, although they usually have a very short life, giants
have been known to reach the age of 100.
Haller, in the eighteenth century, remarked that centenarians often occurred
in the same family, as if longevity were a hereditary quality. It is certainly
the case that the descendants of centenarians frequently reach extreme age.
Thomas Parr, for instance, left a son who died in 1761, at the age of 127
years, having retained his mental faculties until death. In M. Chemin’s list
of centenarians, there are eighteen cases of extreme old age having been
reached by their relations. As all innate characters can be transmitted, the
influence of heredity and longevity must be admitted. At the same time, it is
necessary to remember the important influence of the similarity of
conditions in the case of parents and children. Many cases of tuberculosis
and leprosy, which used to be assigned to heredity, are now known to be
due to infection in the same conditions of life, and some of the examples of
the attaining of a great age by more than one member of a family may be
explained by the influence of surrounding circumstances. Very frequently
the husband and wife, although not related by blood, both attain extremely
advanced age. I found 22 cases of this kind in M. Chemin’s list; I will give
a few of them. A widow, Anne Barak, died at the age of 123, in Moravia;
her husband died at the age of 118. In 1896, there was alive in
Constantinople, M. Christaki, a retired army doctor of the age of 110; his
wife was 95 years old. In 1886, M. et Mme. Gallot, aged respectively 105
years and 4 months, and 105 years and one month, died within two days of
from 95 to 110 years, of whom 133 were male and 145 female.
In the seven years, from 1833 to 1839 inclusive, according to Chemin, there
were in Paris twenty-six men over the age of 95, and forty-five women.
Such facts, and many others, support the general proposition that male
mortality is always greater than that of the other sex.
In most cases centenarians are notably healthy and of strong constitution.
There are instances, however, of abnormal people having reached a great
age. A woman, called Nicoline Marc, died in 1760, at the age of 110. Since
she was two years old, her left arm was crippled. Her hand was bent under
the arm like a hook. She was a hunch-back, and so bent that she appeared to
be no more than four feet high. A Scotch woman, Elspeth Wilson, died at
the age of 115 years. She was quite a dwarf, being only a little over two feet
high. On the other hand, although they usually have a very short life, giants
have been known to reach the age of 100.
Haller, in the eighteenth century, remarked that centenarians often occurred
in the same family, as if longevity were a hereditary quality. It is certainly
the case that the descendants of centenarians frequently reach extreme age.
Thomas Parr, for instance, left a son who died in 1761, at the age of 127
years, having retained his mental faculties until death. In M. Chemin’s list
of centenarians, there are eighteen cases of extreme old age having been
reached by their relations. As all innate characters can be transmitted, the
influence of heredity and longevity must be admitted. At the same time, it is
necessary to remember the important influence of the similarity of
conditions in the case of parents and children. Many cases of tuberculosis
and leprosy, which used to be assigned to heredity, are now known to be
due to infection in the same conditions of life, and some of the examples of
the attaining of a great age by more than one member of a family may be
explained by the influence of surrounding circumstances. Very frequently
the husband and wife, although not related by blood, both attain extremely
advanced age. I found 22 cases of this kind in M. Chemin’s list; I will give
a few of them. A widow, Anne Barak, died at the age of 123, in Moravia;
her husband died at the age of 118. In 1896, there was alive in
Constantinople, M. Christaki, a retired army doctor of the age of 110; his
wife was 95 years old. In 1886, M. et Mme. Gallot, aged respectively 105
years and 4 months, and 105 years and one month, died within two days of
Page 81
each other at Vaugirard, 54, Rue Cambronne. Lejoncourt mentions a South
American of 143 years old, whose wife had lived to the age of 117.
It is worth enquiring if there be any relation between longevity and locality.
There are some countries in which very many of the natives reach old age.
It appears that Eastern Europe (Balkan States, and Russia), although its
civilisation is not high, contains many more centenarians than Western
Europe. I have already mentioned that Dr. Ornstein had shown the existence
of many extremely old people in Greece. M. Chemin states that in Servia,
Bulgaria and Roumania there were more than 5,000 centenarians (5,545)
living in 1896. “Although these figures appear to be exaggerated,” wrote M.
Chemin, “it is undoubtedly the case that the pure and keen air of the
Balkans, and the pastoral or agricultural life of the natives, predisposes to
old age.” The same author mentions several localities in France, notable for
the numbers of very old people. In 1898 in the commune of Sournia
(Pyrénées-Orientales) the total population was 600, amongst which there
was one woman of 95 years, a man of 94, a woman of 89, two men of 85,
two of 84, and two of 83, three women of 82, and two men of 80. At St.
Blimont in the Department of the Somme, amongst the 400 inhabitants
alive in 1897, there were six men between the ages of 85 and 93 years and
one woman in her 101st year.
It cannot be accepted that it is the keen air which lengthens the life, because
Switzerland, a mountainous country, is notable for the rarity of
centenarians. It is more likely that some circumstance in the mode of living
influences longevity.
It has been noticed that most centenarians have been people who were poor,
or in humble circumstances, and whose life has been extremely simple.
There are instances of rich centenarians, such as Sir Moses Montefiore who
died at the age of 101, but such are extremely rare. It may well be said that
great riches do not bring a very long life. Poverty generally brings with it
sobriety, especially in old age, and it has been often said that most
centenarians have lived an extremely sober life. They have not all followed
the example of the celebrated Cornaro, who brought himself to subsist on a
daily diet of no more than twelve ounces of solid food, and fourteen ounces
of wine, and who, although his constitution was weak, lived for about a
century. He has left extremely interesting Memoirs, and retained his
intelligence until his death on the 26th April, 1566 (Lejoncourt, p. 146).
American of 143 years old, whose wife had lived to the age of 117.
It is worth enquiring if there be any relation between longevity and locality.
There are some countries in which very many of the natives reach old age.
It appears that Eastern Europe (Balkan States, and Russia), although its
civilisation is not high, contains many more centenarians than Western
Europe. I have already mentioned that Dr. Ornstein had shown the existence
of many extremely old people in Greece. M. Chemin states that in Servia,
Bulgaria and Roumania there were more than 5,000 centenarians (5,545)
living in 1896. “Although these figures appear to be exaggerated,” wrote M.
Chemin, “it is undoubtedly the case that the pure and keen air of the
Balkans, and the pastoral or agricultural life of the natives, predisposes to
old age.” The same author mentions several localities in France, notable for
the numbers of very old people. In 1898 in the commune of Sournia
(Pyrénées-Orientales) the total population was 600, amongst which there
was one woman of 95 years, a man of 94, a woman of 89, two men of 85,
two of 84, and two of 83, three women of 82, and two men of 80. At St.
Blimont in the Department of the Somme, amongst the 400 inhabitants
alive in 1897, there were six men between the ages of 85 and 93 years and
one woman in her 101st year.
It cannot be accepted that it is the keen air which lengthens the life, because
Switzerland, a mountainous country, is notable for the rarity of
centenarians. It is more likely that some circumstance in the mode of living
influences longevity.
It has been noticed that most centenarians have been people who were poor,
or in humble circumstances, and whose life has been extremely simple.
There are instances of rich centenarians, such as Sir Moses Montefiore who
died at the age of 101, but such are extremely rare. It may well be said that
great riches do not bring a very long life. Poverty generally brings with it
sobriety, especially in old age, and it has been often said that most
centenarians have lived an extremely sober life. They have not all followed
the example of the celebrated Cornaro, who brought himself to subsist on a
daily diet of no more than twelve ounces of solid food, and fourteen ounces
of wine, and who, although his constitution was weak, lived for about a
century. He has left extremely interesting Memoirs, and retained his
intelligence until his death on the 26th April, 1566 (Lejoncourt, p. 146).
Page 82
In M. Chemin’s list I have counted twenty-six centenarians, distinguished
by their frugal life. Most of them did not drink wine, and many of them
limited themselves to bread, milk and vegetables.
Sobriety is certainly favourable to long life, but it is not necessary, because
quite a number of centenarians have drunk freely. Several of those who are
catalogued by Chemin, drank wine and spirits even to excess. Catherine
Reymond, for instance, who died in 1758 at the age of 107 years, drank
much wine, and Politiman, a surgeon who lived from 1685 to 1825, was in
the habit, from his twenty-fifth year onwards, of getting drunk every night,
after having attended to his practice all day. Gascogne, a butcher of Trie
(Hautes-Pyrénées), died in 1767 at the age of 120, and had been
accustomed to get drunk twice a week. A most curious example is that of
the Irish land-owner Brawn, who lived to the age of 120, and who had an
inscription put upon his tombstone that he was always drunk, and when in
that condition was so terrible that even death had been afraid of him. Some
districts, even, are distinguished at once for the longevity of their
inhabitants and for the large local consumption of alcohol. In 1897, village
of Chailly in the Côte-d’Or had no less than twenty octogenarians amongst
523 inhabitants. This village is one of the localities in France where most
alcohol is consumed, and the old people are very far from being
distinguished from their younger fellows by any special sobriety.
In some cases centenarians have been much addicted to the drinking of
coffee. The reader will recall Voltaire’s reply when his doctor described the
grave harm that comes from abuse of coffee which acts as a real poison.
“Well,” said Voltaire, “I have been poisoning myself for nearly 80 years.”
There are centenarians who have lived longer than Voltaire, and have drunk
still more coffee. Elisabeth Durieux, a native of Savoy, reached the age of
114. Her principal food was coffee, of which she took daily as many as
forty small cups. She was jovial and a boon table companion, and used
black coffee in quantities that would have surprised an Arab. Her coffee-pot
was always on the fire, like the tea-pot in an English cottage (Lejoncourt, p.
84; Chemin, p. 147).
It has been noticed that many centenarians do not smoke, but this like all
other traits is not universal. M. Ross, who gained a prize for longevity in
1896 at the age of 102, was an inveterate smoker. In 1897, a widow named
Lazennec, died at La Carrière, in Kérinou, Finistère, at the age of 104. She
by their frugal life. Most of them did not drink wine, and many of them
limited themselves to bread, milk and vegetables.
Sobriety is certainly favourable to long life, but it is not necessary, because
quite a number of centenarians have drunk freely. Several of those who are
catalogued by Chemin, drank wine and spirits even to excess. Catherine
Reymond, for instance, who died in 1758 at the age of 107 years, drank
much wine, and Politiman, a surgeon who lived from 1685 to 1825, was in
the habit, from his twenty-fifth year onwards, of getting drunk every night,
after having attended to his practice all day. Gascogne, a butcher of Trie
(Hautes-Pyrénées), died in 1767 at the age of 120, and had been
accustomed to get drunk twice a week. A most curious example is that of
the Irish land-owner Brawn, who lived to the age of 120, and who had an
inscription put upon his tombstone that he was always drunk, and when in
that condition was so terrible that even death had been afraid of him. Some
districts, even, are distinguished at once for the longevity of their
inhabitants and for the large local consumption of alcohol. In 1897, village
of Chailly in the Côte-d’Or had no less than twenty octogenarians amongst
523 inhabitants. This village is one of the localities in France where most
alcohol is consumed, and the old people are very far from being
distinguished from their younger fellows by any special sobriety.
In some cases centenarians have been much addicted to the drinking of
coffee. The reader will recall Voltaire’s reply when his doctor described the
grave harm that comes from abuse of coffee which acts as a real poison.
“Well,” said Voltaire, “I have been poisoning myself for nearly 80 years.”
There are centenarians who have lived longer than Voltaire, and have drunk
still more coffee. Elisabeth Durieux, a native of Savoy, reached the age of
114. Her principal food was coffee, of which she took daily as many as
forty small cups. She was jovial and a boon table companion, and used
black coffee in quantities that would have surprised an Arab. Her coffee-pot
was always on the fire, like the tea-pot in an English cottage (Lejoncourt, p.
84; Chemin, p. 147).
It has been noticed that many centenarians do not smoke, but this like all
other traits is not universal. M. Ross, who gained a prize for longevity in
1896 at the age of 102, was an inveterate smoker. In 1897, a widow named
Lazennec, died at La Carrière, in Kérinou, Finistère, at the age of 104. She
Page 83
lived in a hovel on charity, and she had smoked a pipe ever since she was
quite young.
It is plain that any factor to which long duration of life has been attributed
disappears when many cases are examined. Naturally a sound constitution
and a simple and sober life are favourable to longevity, but apart from these,
there is something unknown which tends to long life. The celebrated
physiologist of Bonn, Pflüger,70 came to the conclusion that the chief
condition of longevity is something “intrinsic in the constitution,”
something which cannot be defined exactly, and which must be set down to
inheritance.
In the present state of knowledge, we cannot denote the chief cause of
human longevity, but the proper course will be to seek it out as we would
seek out that of animal longevity. As human longevity is often local in its
character, and is exhibited by married people who have nothing in common
except their mode of life, we may enquire into the intestinal flora and the
mechanism by which the organism resists its harmful effect as factors
which influence the duration of life. It is reasonable to suppose that in
persons living in the same district or under the same roof, the intestinal
flora may be similar. The problem can be settled only by a series of
laborious researches which have yet to be made. At present I can do no
more than bring together a large number of facts regarding the duration of
life in man and in animals, with the hope of suggesting the lines for future
investigation.
quite young.
It is plain that any factor to which long duration of life has been attributed
disappears when many cases are examined. Naturally a sound constitution
and a simple and sober life are favourable to longevity, but apart from these,
there is something unknown which tends to long life. The celebrated
physiologist of Bonn, Pflüger,70 came to the conclusion that the chief
condition of longevity is something “intrinsic in the constitution,”
something which cannot be defined exactly, and which must be set down to
inheritance.
In the present state of knowledge, we cannot denote the chief cause of
human longevity, but the proper course will be to seek it out as we would
seek out that of animal longevity. As human longevity is often local in its
character, and is exhibited by married people who have nothing in common
except their mode of life, we may enquire into the intestinal flora and the
mechanism by which the organism resists its harmful effect as factors
which influence the duration of life. It is reasonable to suppose that in
persons living in the same district or under the same roof, the intestinal
flora may be similar. The problem can be settled only by a series of
laborious researches which have yet to be made. At present I can do no
more than bring together a large number of facts regarding the duration of
life in man and in animals, with the hope of suggesting the lines for future
investigation.
Page 84
PART III
INVESTIGATIONS ON NATURAL DEATH
I
NATURAL DEATH AMONG PLANTS
Theory of the immortality of unicellular organisms—Examples of very old trees—
Examples of short-lived plants—Prolongation of the life of some plants—Theory of the
natural death of plants by exhaustion—Death of plants from auto-intoxication
It must surprise my readers to find how little science really knows about
death. Although death has a preponderating place in religions, systems of
philosophy, literature and folk-lore, scientific works pay little attention to it.
This unfortunate fact explains, although it may not justify, the bitter attack
made on science on the grounds that it is occupied with minutiæ and
neglects the great problems of human life, such as death. When Tolstoi was
absorbed by the problem and searched for some solution in the writings of
scientific men, he found that the explanations were trivial or inexact. In
consequence he was extremely indignant with the men who devoted
themselves to the investigation of what seemed to him useless problems
(such as the insect world, or the structure of cells and tissues) and who were
yet unable to say what the destiny of man or death might be.
I am far from claiming to solve these problems; I can do little more than
describe the actual state of the question of natural death. I hope in this way
at least to prepare for scientific investigation, and to call attention to it as
the most important problem of humanity.
By the use of the phrase “natural death” I mean to denote a phenomenon
that is intrinsic in the nature of an organism and that is not the mere result
of an external accident. Popular phraseology includes under natural death
all cases due to diseases. But as such deaths can be avoided and are not due
to qualities inherent in the organism, it is erroneous to include them in the
category “natural death.”
INVESTIGATIONS ON NATURAL DEATH
I
NATURAL DEATH AMONG PLANTS
Theory of the immortality of unicellular organisms—Examples of very old trees—
Examples of short-lived plants—Prolongation of the life of some plants—Theory of the
natural death of plants by exhaustion—Death of plants from auto-intoxication
It must surprise my readers to find how little science really knows about
death. Although death has a preponderating place in religions, systems of
philosophy, literature and folk-lore, scientific works pay little attention to it.
This unfortunate fact explains, although it may not justify, the bitter attack
made on science on the grounds that it is occupied with minutiæ and
neglects the great problems of human life, such as death. When Tolstoi was
absorbed by the problem and searched for some solution in the writings of
scientific men, he found that the explanations were trivial or inexact. In
consequence he was extremely indignant with the men who devoted
themselves to the investigation of what seemed to him useless problems
(such as the insect world, or the structure of cells and tissues) and who were
yet unable to say what the destiny of man or death might be.
I am far from claiming to solve these problems; I can do little more than
describe the actual state of the question of natural death. I hope in this way
at least to prepare for scientific investigation, and to call attention to it as
the most important problem of humanity.
By the use of the phrase “natural death” I mean to denote a phenomenon
that is intrinsic in the nature of an organism and that is not the mere result
of an external accident. Popular phraseology includes under natural death
all cases due to diseases. But as such deaths can be avoided and are not due
to qualities inherent in the organism, it is erroneous to include them in the
category “natural death.”
Page 85
In nature, death comes so frequently by accident that there is justification
for asking if natural death really occurs. It used to be thought that death was
the inevitable end of life and that the living principle contained within itself
the germ of death. Accordingly, it was a surprising discovery that many low
organisms die only by accident, and that if such accident be avoided, death
does not fall on them. Unicellular organisms (such as infusoria, many other
protozoa and low plants) multiply by simple division, the organism thus
giving rise to two new organisms; the parent so to speak loses itself in its
offspring without undergoing death. To criticisms of this mode of
presentment of the facts, Weismann, who has attracted most attention to the
view, replied as follows:—“In cultures of Infusoria, these little animals
continually multiply by division and no dead bodies are found. The
individual life is short, but it ends not in death but in transformation to two
new individuals.”
Max Verworn,71 a physiologist of repute, objected that Weismann had
overlooked the occurrence within the organism of a process of partial
destruction, and that under certain conditions a complete organ of the
infusorian body (the nucleus) dies and is absorbed. Such death of a part,
however, is not followed by death of the whole, and as the continuous
destruction of some of the cells in our own bodies is not regarded as our
death, the criticism of the German physiologist cannot be accepted.
It is not only the extremely short-lived microscopic organisms that escape
death. Some of the higher plants, which may attain to gigantic size,
encounter death only by accidents. There is nothing to be found in the
nature of their organisation which would seem to indicate that death is the
inevitable or even probable result of their constitutions.
The longevity of some trees has long been notorious, as these appear to live
for many centuries and to die only when they are overwhelmed by the
ravages of a storm or killed by human agency.
When the Canary Islands were discovered, in the beginning of the fifteenth
century, the early explorers were struck with the gigantic size of a dragon
tree which was venerated by the natives as their tutelary deity. The tree
stood in a Garden at Orotava in Teneriffe, and even in these early days, its
huge trunk contained a gigantic hollow. The tree did not reward the worship
of the natives, who were annihilated by the Spaniards, and it survived them
for asking if natural death really occurs. It used to be thought that death was
the inevitable end of life and that the living principle contained within itself
the germ of death. Accordingly, it was a surprising discovery that many low
organisms die only by accident, and that if such accident be avoided, death
does not fall on them. Unicellular organisms (such as infusoria, many other
protozoa and low plants) multiply by simple division, the organism thus
giving rise to two new organisms; the parent so to speak loses itself in its
offspring without undergoing death. To criticisms of this mode of
presentment of the facts, Weismann, who has attracted most attention to the
view, replied as follows:—“In cultures of Infusoria, these little animals
continually multiply by division and no dead bodies are found. The
individual life is short, but it ends not in death but in transformation to two
new individuals.”
Max Verworn,71 a physiologist of repute, objected that Weismann had
overlooked the occurrence within the organism of a process of partial
destruction, and that under certain conditions a complete organ of the
infusorian body (the nucleus) dies and is absorbed. Such death of a part,
however, is not followed by death of the whole, and as the continuous
destruction of some of the cells in our own bodies is not regarded as our
death, the criticism of the German physiologist cannot be accepted.
It is not only the extremely short-lived microscopic organisms that escape
death. Some of the higher plants, which may attain to gigantic size,
encounter death only by accidents. There is nothing to be found in the
nature of their organisation which would seem to indicate that death is the
inevitable or even probable result of their constitutions.
The longevity of some trees has long been notorious, as these appear to live
for many centuries and to die only when they are overwhelmed by the
ravages of a storm or killed by human agency.
When the Canary Islands were discovered, in the beginning of the fifteenth
century, the early explorers were struck with the gigantic size of a dragon
tree which was venerated by the natives as their tutelary deity. The tree
stood in a Garden at Orotava in Teneriffe, and even in these early days, its
huge trunk contained a gigantic hollow. The tree did not reward the worship
of the natives, who were annihilated by the Spaniards, and it survived them
Page 86
for nearly four centuries. At the end of the eighteenth century it was seen by
Humboldt,72 who found that the trunk was forty-five feet in circumference,
and who attributed to it a great age because dragon trees grow extremely
slowly. Early in the nineteenth century (1819) a furious tempest swept over
Orotava and with a gigantic crash nearly a third of the crown of leaves and
branches fell on the ground. Notwithstanding this shock, the monster
survived for fifty years. Berthelot,73 who visited it in 1839, described it as
follows:—“A dragon tree stood in front of my dwelling, grotesque in form,
gigantic in size, which a storm had smitten without overwhelming. Ten men
would have much ado to girdle its vast trunk, fifty feet in circumference at
the ground. The huge column had a deep cave within it, hollowed by the
ages; a rustic porch gave access to the interior, and the lofty dome, although
half had been destroyed by a storm, still bore an enormous crown of
branches.”
Humboldt,72 who found that the trunk was forty-five feet in circumference,
and who attributed to it a great age because dragon trees grow extremely
slowly. Early in the nineteenth century (1819) a furious tempest swept over
Orotava and with a gigantic crash nearly a third of the crown of leaves and
branches fell on the ground. Notwithstanding this shock, the monster
survived for fifty years. Berthelot,73 who visited it in 1839, described it as
follows:—“A dragon tree stood in front of my dwelling, grotesque in form,
gigantic in size, which a storm had smitten without overwhelming. Ten men
would have much ado to girdle its vast trunk, fifty feet in circumference at
the ground. The huge column had a deep cave within it, hollowed by the
ages; a rustic porch gave access to the interior, and the lofty dome, although
half had been destroyed by a storm, still bore an enormous crown of
branches.”
Page 87
Fig. 15.—The Dragon-tree of the villa Orotava.
The famous dragon-tree got more and more damaged, and was finally
overthrown by a storm in 1868. A few years after the catastrophe (in 1871) I
myself saw the remains of the colossus, lying on the ground as a huge grey
mass like some antediluvian monster. No accurate estimate of its age can be
formed, but it must have lived several thousand years.
Trees have been known which were still older than the dragon-tree of
Teneriffe. One of the best known is the baobab of Cape Verd, described by
Adanson. “This remarkable tree was thirty feet in diameter when the
famous French naturalist measured and described it. Three centuries earlier,
some English sailors had cut an inscription on it, and Adanson laid this bare
by removing three hundred layers of wood. On his observations Adanson
The famous dragon-tree got more and more damaged, and was finally
overthrown by a storm in 1868. A few years after the catastrophe (in 1871) I
myself saw the remains of the colossus, lying on the ground as a huge grey
mass like some antediluvian monster. No accurate estimate of its age can be
formed, but it must have lived several thousand years.
Trees have been known which were still older than the dragon-tree of
Teneriffe. One of the best known is the baobab of Cape Verd, described by
Adanson. “This remarkable tree was thirty feet in diameter when the
famous French naturalist measured and described it. Three centuries earlier,
some English sailors had cut an inscription on it, and Adanson laid this bare
by removing three hundred layers of wood. On his observations Adanson
Page 88
based an estimate of 5,150 years as the age of the tree.74 The old cypresses
of Mexico are thought to be still older. A. de Candolle75 concluded that the
cypress of Montezuma was 2,000 years old when he saw it, and that the
cypress at Oazaca was much older than the tree described by Adanson. In
California, trees of the species Sequoia gigantea are three thousand years
old, and Sargent, an American botanist, attributes to some of them an age of
at least five thousand years.
The question of the nature of individuality in the vegetable world has been
raised in connection with the longevity of trees. It has been asked if a tree is
to be regarded as a single individual or as a colony of many plants like a
branching polyp. It is a difficult question, but only of secondary importance
from the point of view of this discussion. A. de Candolle,76 having paid
special attention to the subject, came to the conclusion that trees do not die
of old age, that, in the real sense of the phrase, there is no natural end of
their existence. Many botanists agree with him. Naegeli77 holds that a tree
several thousand years old dies only from external accidents.
It is plain that amongst the lower plants and the higher plants there are cases
where natural death does not exist. Theoretically, life would have an
unlimited duration, subject to the continuous replacement of the substance
of the organism in the normal metabolism. It must not be inferred, however,
that there is no such occurrence as natural death amongst plants. There are
numerous cases where death comes quite apart from the agency of external
forces. Even amongst closely related plants there are some cases where
natural death does not occur, and others where it is normal. The lower fungi
offer a good instance. Some of these pass through a longer or shorter
vegetative stage and then the living mass breaks up into spores
(Myxomycetes). The whole bulk of matter is not transformed, but the
remnant consists only of cuticular secretions, not living cells. In other fungi,
only some of the cells transform to spores, the others dying naturally.
One stage of the life history of some lower plants is of short duration. The
prothalli of some cryptogams (Marsiliaceæ) live only a few hours, just long
enough for the appearance of the sexual organs. When these are ripe the
body of the prothallus and all its constituent cells fall a prey to natural
death. In such cases there is a “corpse,” composed of dead cells and
protoplasm. Even amongst the higher plants there are instances of an
of Mexico are thought to be still older. A. de Candolle75 concluded that the
cypress of Montezuma was 2,000 years old when he saw it, and that the
cypress at Oazaca was much older than the tree described by Adanson. In
California, trees of the species Sequoia gigantea are three thousand years
old, and Sargent, an American botanist, attributes to some of them an age of
at least five thousand years.
The question of the nature of individuality in the vegetable world has been
raised in connection with the longevity of trees. It has been asked if a tree is
to be regarded as a single individual or as a colony of many plants like a
branching polyp. It is a difficult question, but only of secondary importance
from the point of view of this discussion. A. de Candolle,76 having paid
special attention to the subject, came to the conclusion that trees do not die
of old age, that, in the real sense of the phrase, there is no natural end of
their existence. Many botanists agree with him. Naegeli77 holds that a tree
several thousand years old dies only from external accidents.
It is plain that amongst the lower plants and the higher plants there are cases
where natural death does not exist. Theoretically, life would have an
unlimited duration, subject to the continuous replacement of the substance
of the organism in the normal metabolism. It must not be inferred, however,
that there is no such occurrence as natural death amongst plants. There are
numerous cases where death comes quite apart from the agency of external
forces. Even amongst closely related plants there are some cases where
natural death does not occur, and others where it is normal. The lower fungi
offer a good instance. Some of these pass through a longer or shorter
vegetative stage and then the living mass breaks up into spores
(Myxomycetes). The whole bulk of matter is not transformed, but the
remnant consists only of cuticular secretions, not living cells. In other fungi,
only some of the cells transform to spores, the others dying naturally.
One stage of the life history of some lower plants is of short duration. The
prothalli of some cryptogams (Marsiliaceæ) live only a few hours, just long
enough for the appearance of the sexual organs. When these are ripe the
body of the prothallus and all its constituent cells fall a prey to natural
death. In such cases there is a “corpse,” composed of dead cells and
protoplasm. Even amongst the higher plants there are instances of an
Page 89
extremely short duration of life. Amaryllis lutea passes through all the
stages of its life-history in ten days, the minimum time necessary for the
sprouting of the leaves and flowers and the production of the seeds, after
which it dies naturally.78 It is interesting to find that in the same family
there are other plants notable for long duration of life. The Agave requires a
century to produce its flowers before death comes naturally.
Everyone is familiar with the so-called “annual” plants which live only a
few months, from the time when they sprout, until, after the production of
seed, death comes to them naturally. The life of annuals, however, can be
preserved for two or for several years. Rye is normally an annual, but some
varieties are able to live for two years and produce two crops. The Cossacks
of the Don have established this fact, and have cultivated a biennial variety
of rye for many years.79 Beetroot80 is normally biennial, but has been
changed to a plant which lives for from three to five years. Such instances
are by no means unique.
Natural death can be postponed if the plant be prevented from seeding.
Professor Hugo de Vries has prolonged the life of the Oenotheras he
cultivates, by cutting the flowers before fertilisation. Under ordinary
conditions the stem dies after producing from forty to fifty flowers, but, if
cutting be practised, new flowers are produced until the winter cold
intervenes. By cutting the stem sufficiently early, the plants are induced to
develop new buds at the base, and these buds survive winter, and resume
growth in the following spring.” (Extract from a letter of Prof. H. de Vries.)
The grass of lawns is usually mowed before it begins to flower, so as to
prevent the ripening of the seeds and the death of the plant. When this is
done, the grass remains continually green, and its life lasts for several years.
The connection between the seeding of plants and their natural death has
been recognised for long, and is usually explained as being due to the
exhaustion of the plant.
As I am not a botanist, and was anxious to know the views of botanists on
natural death, I wrote to Prof. de Vries, as a universally accepted authority.
The distinguished botanist replied to me as follows. “Your question is
extremely difficult. I do not think that much is known as to the exact cause
of the death of annual plants, but it is customary to attribute it to
exhaustion.” All the botanists who have expressed opinions on this matter
stages of its life-history in ten days, the minimum time necessary for the
sprouting of the leaves and flowers and the production of the seeds, after
which it dies naturally.78 It is interesting to find that in the same family
there are other plants notable for long duration of life. The Agave requires a
century to produce its flowers before death comes naturally.
Everyone is familiar with the so-called “annual” plants which live only a
few months, from the time when they sprout, until, after the production of
seed, death comes to them naturally. The life of annuals, however, can be
preserved for two or for several years. Rye is normally an annual, but some
varieties are able to live for two years and produce two crops. The Cossacks
of the Don have established this fact, and have cultivated a biennial variety
of rye for many years.79 Beetroot80 is normally biennial, but has been
changed to a plant which lives for from three to five years. Such instances
are by no means unique.
Natural death can be postponed if the plant be prevented from seeding.
Professor Hugo de Vries has prolonged the life of the Oenotheras he
cultivates, by cutting the flowers before fertilisation. Under ordinary
conditions the stem dies after producing from forty to fifty flowers, but, if
cutting be practised, new flowers are produced until the winter cold
intervenes. By cutting the stem sufficiently early, the plants are induced to
develop new buds at the base, and these buds survive winter, and resume
growth in the following spring.” (Extract from a letter of Prof. H. de Vries.)
The grass of lawns is usually mowed before it begins to flower, so as to
prevent the ripening of the seeds and the death of the plant. When this is
done, the grass remains continually green, and its life lasts for several years.
The connection between the seeding of plants and their natural death has
been recognised for long, and is usually explained as being due to the
exhaustion of the plant.
As I am not a botanist, and was anxious to know the views of botanists on
natural death, I wrote to Prof. de Vries, as a universally accepted authority.
The distinguished botanist replied to me as follows. “Your question is
extremely difficult. I do not think that much is known as to the exact cause
of the death of annual plants, but it is customary to attribute it to
exhaustion.” All the botanists who have expressed opinions on this matter
Page 90
appear to hold a similar view. Hildebrand,81 the author of a memoir on the
duration of life in plants, stated this view again and again. According to him
“the life of annuals is usually short because they are exhausted by their
extensive production of seeds (p. 116).” “Even amongst plants which
produce seeds for several years, there are some which are prematurely
exhausted by fructification and which die spontaneously” (p. 67). In the
prothallus of many of the higher cryptogams, the formation of a single
embryo is followed by natural death; as Goebel82 points out, the embryo
completely absorbs the prothallus.
As plants generally obtain their food with ease, it is natural to ask what is
the cause of the exhaustion after seeding. When a plant which cannot resist
cold dies after it has produced its seeds in the end of the summer, the event
is natural enough. But how can we explain the death of an annual plant
which is growing in a rich soil, and which seeds in the beginning of the
summer, as being due to exhaustion long before the winter cold. It
frequently happens that after harvest new shoots spring up from grains
which have fallen. The soil which can support this new vegetation cannot
have been exhausted by the cereal in question; and there has been enough
warmth for the new crop. It cannot be the external conditions which have
caused the death of the parent plant. The explanation of this apparent
contradiction has been sought in the constitution of the plant itself.
Hildebrand remarks that “certain species have a constitution which tends to
early fructification. As soon as the seeds have been set, the strength of the
plant is exhausted in the swelling of the grains, so that the plant dies.”
“Other species, on the contrary, are so constituted that they vegetate for a
long time, before fruiting, after which, however, they also die. A third set of
plants have such a constitution that “they do not die after seeding, that they
can seed often and live for many years” (p. 113).
Being unable to indicate exactly the intrinsic mechanism of these different
“constitutions,” several botanists explain them by a kind of teleological
predestination. According to Hildebrand “the nutritive processes of a plant
have no other purpose than to make it capable of reproduction; this final
end, however, can be reached in different modes and after different periods
of time” (p. 132). Goebel sets down similar views. “In heterosporous plants
the whole course of the development of prothalli is predetermined. The
prothalli, so far as we actually know, to use the phrase of theologians, are
duration of life in plants, stated this view again and again. According to him
“the life of annuals is usually short because they are exhausted by their
extensive production of seeds (p. 116).” “Even amongst plants which
produce seeds for several years, there are some which are prematurely
exhausted by fructification and which die spontaneously” (p. 67). In the
prothallus of many of the higher cryptogams, the formation of a single
embryo is followed by natural death; as Goebel82 points out, the embryo
completely absorbs the prothallus.
As plants generally obtain their food with ease, it is natural to ask what is
the cause of the exhaustion after seeding. When a plant which cannot resist
cold dies after it has produced its seeds in the end of the summer, the event
is natural enough. But how can we explain the death of an annual plant
which is growing in a rich soil, and which seeds in the beginning of the
summer, as being due to exhaustion long before the winter cold. It
frequently happens that after harvest new shoots spring up from grains
which have fallen. The soil which can support this new vegetation cannot
have been exhausted by the cereal in question; and there has been enough
warmth for the new crop. It cannot be the external conditions which have
caused the death of the parent plant. The explanation of this apparent
contradiction has been sought in the constitution of the plant itself.
Hildebrand remarks that “certain species have a constitution which tends to
early fructification. As soon as the seeds have been set, the strength of the
plant is exhausted in the swelling of the grains, so that the plant dies.”
“Other species, on the contrary, are so constituted that they vegetate for a
long time, before fruiting, after which, however, they also die. A third set of
plants have such a constitution that “they do not die after seeding, that they
can seed often and live for many years” (p. 113).
Being unable to indicate exactly the intrinsic mechanism of these different
“constitutions,” several botanists explain them by a kind of teleological
predestination. According to Hildebrand “the nutritive processes of a plant
have no other purpose than to make it capable of reproduction; this final
end, however, can be reached in different modes and after different periods
of time” (p. 132). Goebel sets down similar views. “In heterosporous plants
the whole course of the development of prothalli is predetermined. The
prothalli, so far as we actually know, to use the phrase of theologians, are
Page 91
predestined; their fate is determined once for all” (p. 403). M. Massart83
expresses the same kind of view, when he says that “sometimes cells die
because their work is finished, and they have no longer any reason for
existing.”
Such an interpretation of the facts is quite opposed to determinism, and
makes the problem of natural death in the plant world more difficult but
more interesting.
The modern scientific conception of the universe excludes the idea of
predestination. The relations between fructification and natural death must
be regulated by the law of selection, according to which no organism
survives if its reproduction is impossible. It occasionally happens that
children are born without organs which are indispensable to life. Such
monsters of different kinds being non-viable, cannot be said to be
predestined to death, as they die because of defects in their structure. Others
are born with all that is necessary for life, and survive for that reason, not
because they are predestined to life. So also species of plants which develop
incompletely and which die before they have produced spores or seeds,
cannot survive; whilst those which die after having given birth to the next
generation survive in their descendants. However quickly death follow the
production of seed, the species will survive equally well. The cause of the
natural death of plants must be sought, therefore, not in predestination, but
in the mechanism of the organic processes.
Nothing seems more probable than that a plant should die when all its
organic forces have been exhausted. It would be interesting, however, to
ascertain the mechanism of that exhaustion, and this especially because it is
often very difficult to imagine a cause for it. Many plants exist which
produce several generations each season, in the same soil, without
exhausting it. In perennial plants, some parts, such as the flowers, die
periodically, although the plant itself is not exhausted. Everyone has seen
that in geraniums some of the flowers wither whilst others are blooming,
the process going on throughout the season. We can scarcely attribute such
a natural death of the flowers to any exhaustion of the plant which
continues to produce new flowers.
The fairly frequent prolongation of the life of plants is also out of harmony
with the theory of natural death as the result of exhaustion. It sometimes
expresses the same kind of view, when he says that “sometimes cells die
because their work is finished, and they have no longer any reason for
existing.”
Such an interpretation of the facts is quite opposed to determinism, and
makes the problem of natural death in the plant world more difficult but
more interesting.
The modern scientific conception of the universe excludes the idea of
predestination. The relations between fructification and natural death must
be regulated by the law of selection, according to which no organism
survives if its reproduction is impossible. It occasionally happens that
children are born without organs which are indispensable to life. Such
monsters of different kinds being non-viable, cannot be said to be
predestined to death, as they die because of defects in their structure. Others
are born with all that is necessary for life, and survive for that reason, not
because they are predestined to life. So also species of plants which develop
incompletely and which die before they have produced spores or seeds,
cannot survive; whilst those which die after having given birth to the next
generation survive in their descendants. However quickly death follow the
production of seed, the species will survive equally well. The cause of the
natural death of plants must be sought, therefore, not in predestination, but
in the mechanism of the organic processes.
Nothing seems more probable than that a plant should die when all its
organic forces have been exhausted. It would be interesting, however, to
ascertain the mechanism of that exhaustion, and this especially because it is
often very difficult to imagine a cause for it. Many plants exist which
produce several generations each season, in the same soil, without
exhausting it. In perennial plants, some parts, such as the flowers, die
periodically, although the plant itself is not exhausted. Everyone has seen
that in geraniums some of the flowers wither whilst others are blooming,
the process going on throughout the season. We can scarcely attribute such
a natural death of the flowers to any exhaustion of the plant which
continues to produce new flowers.
The fairly frequent prolongation of the life of plants is also out of harmony
with the theory of natural death as the result of exhaustion. It sometimes
Page 92
happens that male plants produce female flowers abnormally; cases of this
kind have been observed in willows, stinging-nettles, hops, and especially
in maize.84 Here we have to deal with a kind of monstrosity, differing,
however, from the non-viable monsters of the human race, in the respect
that the production of female flowers on the male branches results in the
prolongation of their lives. Generally the male branches die a natural death
as soon as the pollen has been shed, and therefore some time before the
death of the female flowers. If, however, a male branch bears a female
flower which becomes fertilised, then the life of the branch is prolonged
until the seeds ripen. If the natural death of the male flowers is the result of
exhaustion due to the development of the pollen, how can we reconcile this
with the prolongation of life in a case where the male branch has also
female flowers to nourish and seeds to mature?
It is quite clear that natural death, in such cases, is the result of a
mechanism more complex than simple exhaustion.
Prof. de Vries has already noted that the duration of life in plants depends
on their vital processes. That view implies that there are some qualities
inherent in its organisation which can prolong or shorten the life of a plant,
and it is here that we ought to find the key to the problem of natural death in
the vegetable world. However, to gain exact knowledge of such factors, it
would be necessary to have information on many points in plant physiology
which unfortunately are very imperfectly known. In this respect, the vital
conditions of the simplest plants, such as yeasts and bacteria, have been
investigated much more fully. It is true that such low organisms reproduce
freely either by division or by budding, so that they are amongst the
organisms in which natural death is not inevitable. None the less, in their
lives phenomena occasionally present themselves which can be interpreted
as cases of natural death.
At a time when it was still unknown that all fermentation was due to the
action of microscopic plants, it had been observed that, in certain
conditions, fermentation ceased much more quickly than in other
conditions. For instance, when sugar is being transformed to lactic acid, it is
useful to add chalk, as otherwise the fermentation stops before the greater
part of the sugar has been acted upon. When, in 1857, Pasteur made his
great discovery of the lactic acid microbe, he showed that that little
organism, although it could produce lactic acid, was interfered with by an
kind have been observed in willows, stinging-nettles, hops, and especially
in maize.84 Here we have to deal with a kind of monstrosity, differing,
however, from the non-viable monsters of the human race, in the respect
that the production of female flowers on the male branches results in the
prolongation of their lives. Generally the male branches die a natural death
as soon as the pollen has been shed, and therefore some time before the
death of the female flowers. If, however, a male branch bears a female
flower which becomes fertilised, then the life of the branch is prolonged
until the seeds ripen. If the natural death of the male flowers is the result of
exhaustion due to the development of the pollen, how can we reconcile this
with the prolongation of life in a case where the male branch has also
female flowers to nourish and seeds to mature?
It is quite clear that natural death, in such cases, is the result of a
mechanism more complex than simple exhaustion.
Prof. de Vries has already noted that the duration of life in plants depends
on their vital processes. That view implies that there are some qualities
inherent in its organisation which can prolong or shorten the life of a plant,
and it is here that we ought to find the key to the problem of natural death in
the vegetable world. However, to gain exact knowledge of such factors, it
would be necessary to have information on many points in plant physiology
which unfortunately are very imperfectly known. In this respect, the vital
conditions of the simplest plants, such as yeasts and bacteria, have been
investigated much more fully. It is true that such low organisms reproduce
freely either by division or by budding, so that they are amongst the
organisms in which natural death is not inevitable. None the less, in their
lives phenomena occasionally present themselves which can be interpreted
as cases of natural death.
At a time when it was still unknown that all fermentation was due to the
action of microscopic plants, it had been observed that, in certain
conditions, fermentation ceased much more quickly than in other
conditions. For instance, when sugar is being transformed to lactic acid, it is
useful to add chalk, as otherwise the fermentation stops before the greater
part of the sugar has been acted upon. When, in 1857, Pasteur made his
great discovery of the lactic acid microbe, he showed that that little
organism, although it could produce lactic acid, was interfered with by an
Page 93
excess of the acid. To secure complete fermentation, it was necessary to
neutralise the acid by the addition of chalk.
When the action of lactic acid is continued too long, it not only arrests the
process of fermentation but definitely kills the microbe. It is for that reason
that it has been found difficult to preserve the lactic acid ferment for a long
time in a living condition. Amongst the ferments which have been isolated
from Egyptian ‘leben’ by MM. Rist and Khoury85 there is one which is
extremely delicate.
When it is inoculated deep in a nutritive medium, it dies in a few days,
death, without doubt, being due to the lactic acid produced by the microbe
from the sugar and not neutralised. As this transformation of sugar into
lactic acid is a fundamental property of the microbe, depending on its
constitution, the arrest of the fermentation and the death of the ferment in
these definite conditions can be interpreted only as natural death due to
auto-intoxication, that is to say to poisoning by a product of the
physiological activity of the microbe itself. As death takes place at a time
when the medium still contains enough sugar for the nutrition of the
microbe, it is certain that it cannot be the result of exhaustion. This case of
the lactic acid ferment is not unique. The microbe which produces butyric
acid is also interfered with by the acid it secretes. M. G. Bertrand, who has
examined carefully the microbe which produces fermentation in sorbose
(sugar extracted from fruit of the service-tree) (Sorbus domestica) has
informed me that this fermentation, too, ceases under the influence of the
secretions of the microbes, and that the microbes undergo natural death at a
time when the medium is far from exhausted of the nutritive material. The
yeast which produces alcohol is also interfered with by an excess of
alcohol, and as soon as a certain limit of alcoholic strength has been
reached, fermentation stops. When the yeast is grown in media rich in
nitrogen and poor in sugar, the plant takes the nitrogenous material and
produces salts of ammonia. These alkalies damage the yeast and cause its
death by auto-intoxication.86
In the examples that I have given, natural death was a result of the activity
of the microbes, and was in correlation with their organisation. Such death
can be avoided by changing the external conditions, and, if the acids or
alkalies produced by these bacteria are neutralised, the bacteria survive. The
facts are in harmony with those that I described in the case of the higher
neutralise the acid by the addition of chalk.
When the action of lactic acid is continued too long, it not only arrests the
process of fermentation but definitely kills the microbe. It is for that reason
that it has been found difficult to preserve the lactic acid ferment for a long
time in a living condition. Amongst the ferments which have been isolated
from Egyptian ‘leben’ by MM. Rist and Khoury85 there is one which is
extremely delicate.
When it is inoculated deep in a nutritive medium, it dies in a few days,
death, without doubt, being due to the lactic acid produced by the microbe
from the sugar and not neutralised. As this transformation of sugar into
lactic acid is a fundamental property of the microbe, depending on its
constitution, the arrest of the fermentation and the death of the ferment in
these definite conditions can be interpreted only as natural death due to
auto-intoxication, that is to say to poisoning by a product of the
physiological activity of the microbe itself. As death takes place at a time
when the medium still contains enough sugar for the nutrition of the
microbe, it is certain that it cannot be the result of exhaustion. This case of
the lactic acid ferment is not unique. The microbe which produces butyric
acid is also interfered with by the acid it secretes. M. G. Bertrand, who has
examined carefully the microbe which produces fermentation in sorbose
(sugar extracted from fruit of the service-tree) (Sorbus domestica) has
informed me that this fermentation, too, ceases under the influence of the
secretions of the microbes, and that the microbes undergo natural death at a
time when the medium is far from exhausted of the nutritive material. The
yeast which produces alcohol is also interfered with by an excess of
alcohol, and as soon as a certain limit of alcoholic strength has been
reached, fermentation stops. When the yeast is grown in media rich in
nitrogen and poor in sugar, the plant takes the nitrogenous material and
produces salts of ammonia. These alkalies damage the yeast and cause its
death by auto-intoxication.86
In the examples that I have given, natural death was a result of the activity
of the microbes, and was in correlation with their organisation. Such death
can be avoided by changing the external conditions, and, if the acids or
alkalies produced by these bacteria are neutralised, the bacteria survive. The
facts are in harmony with those that I described in the case of the higher
Page 94
plants. By preventing the ripening of seed, the life of many annual plants
may be preserved and the plants changed to biennials or perennials. In such
cases death, although the result of the constitution of the plant, may be
postponed.
We may ask then if the natural death of higher plants, usually attributed to
exhaustion, cannot be explained more simply as the result of poisons
produced in their metabolism. Many plants produce poisons which are fatal
to animals and man. May they not also produce substances fatal to
themselves? There is nothing improbable in the supposition that some of the
poisons may develop when the seeds are ripening. By preventing the latter
process, the ripening of the whole organism may also be prevented. Such a
theory would explain the many cases of natural death which occur whilst
the cell is far from having reached exhaustion. The equally numerous cases
of partial death, such as that of flowers, whilst the same stem is still
producing other flowers (e.g. geraniums) would be explained by a local
action of the poisons not strong enough to kill the whole plant.
I must insist that this theory, that natural death of the higher plants, is the
result of auto-intoxication, is a mere hypothesis which future investigations
may disprove. If, however, it comes to be confirmed, it would explain the
coincidence of death and fructification more simply than the hypothesis of
predestination.
The higher plants may be subjects of auto-intoxication in the same fashion
as bacteria and yeasts. If these poisons were produced before the ripening of
the seeds, the plants would remain sterile, leaving no descendants, so that
the race would become extinct. The production of poisons at the time of
fructification would not interfere with the succession of generations, and the
race would be preserved. As the poisoning is not necessary, it is easy to
understand why many plants survive seeding and escape natural death. The
Dragon-tree, baobab, and the cedars, which I spoke of earlier, would be
examples of such escape.
Although the existence of auto-intoxication in the higher plants is still only
a hypothesis, the natural death of bacteria and yeasts by poisons which they
themselves produce is an ascertained fact.
In the plant world, therefore, there are examples of natural death (bacteria
and yeasts) due to auto-intoxication, and there are other cases where high or
may be preserved and the plants changed to biennials or perennials. In such
cases death, although the result of the constitution of the plant, may be
postponed.
We may ask then if the natural death of higher plants, usually attributed to
exhaustion, cannot be explained more simply as the result of poisons
produced in their metabolism. Many plants produce poisons which are fatal
to animals and man. May they not also produce substances fatal to
themselves? There is nothing improbable in the supposition that some of the
poisons may develop when the seeds are ripening. By preventing the latter
process, the ripening of the whole organism may also be prevented. Such a
theory would explain the many cases of natural death which occur whilst
the cell is far from having reached exhaustion. The equally numerous cases
of partial death, such as that of flowers, whilst the same stem is still
producing other flowers (e.g. geraniums) would be explained by a local
action of the poisons not strong enough to kill the whole plant.
I must insist that this theory, that natural death of the higher plants, is the
result of auto-intoxication, is a mere hypothesis which future investigations
may disprove. If, however, it comes to be confirmed, it would explain the
coincidence of death and fructification more simply than the hypothesis of
predestination.
The higher plants may be subjects of auto-intoxication in the same fashion
as bacteria and yeasts. If these poisons were produced before the ripening of
the seeds, the plants would remain sterile, leaving no descendants, so that
the race would become extinct. The production of poisons at the time of
fructification would not interfere with the succession of generations, and the
race would be preserved. As the poisoning is not necessary, it is easy to
understand why many plants survive seeding and escape natural death. The
Dragon-tree, baobab, and the cedars, which I spoke of earlier, would be
examples of such escape.
Although the existence of auto-intoxication in the higher plants is still only
a hypothesis, the natural death of bacteria and yeasts by poisons which they
themselves produce is an ascertained fact.
In the plant world, therefore, there are examples of natural death (bacteria
and yeasts) due to auto-intoxication, and there are other cases where high or
Page 95
low plants escape natural death.
II
NATURAL DEATH IN THE ANIMAL WORLD
Different origins of natural death in animals—Examples of natural death associated with
violent acts—Examples of natural death in animals without digestive organs—Natural
death in the two sexes—Hypothesis as to the cause of natural death in animals
The cases of natural death amongst animals differ from those found in the
vegetable world by their greater variety and complexity. As M. Massart has
shown for plants, so also natural death must have become established
independently in different groups of animals. In some cases, the characters
presented are strange and almost paradoxical.
It is usual to contrast natural death with violent death on account of the
difference between the two. None the less, natural death may occur in the
animal kingdom, that is to say death resulting directly from the constitution,
and yet in intimate association with violent acts. I will give some examples.
Small, helmet-shaped organisms, transparent and graceful, are common on
the surface of the sea. These have been described by zoologists under the
name Pilidium. The organisation is simple. The body wall is a delicate
pellicle, through which, on the lower surface, a mouth leads into a
capacious stomach. Continual movements of waving cilia direct small
particles of food through the mouth to the digestive stomach. As there are
no organs of reproduction, it was assumed that these creatures were not
adults, but floating larvæ of some marine animal, and, after a good deal of
trouble, it was found that the Pilidia were the young stages of ribbon-shaped
worms of the group of Nemertines. At a definite stage in the life-history, a
fœtus begins to develop round about the stomach of the Pilidium, and
eventually completely encloses it and detaches it by violent muscular
contractions. The end of the story is that the fœtus abandons the body of the
Pilidium carrying off with it the stomach, an organ necessary to the
maintenance of life. The remnant of the Pilidium swims about in the sea-
II
NATURAL DEATH IN THE ANIMAL WORLD
Different origins of natural death in animals—Examples of natural death associated with
violent acts—Examples of natural death in animals without digestive organs—Natural
death in the two sexes—Hypothesis as to the cause of natural death in animals
The cases of natural death amongst animals differ from those found in the
vegetable world by their greater variety and complexity. As M. Massart has
shown for plants, so also natural death must have become established
independently in different groups of animals. In some cases, the characters
presented are strange and almost paradoxical.
It is usual to contrast natural death with violent death on account of the
difference between the two. None the less, natural death may occur in the
animal kingdom, that is to say death resulting directly from the constitution,
and yet in intimate association with violent acts. I will give some examples.
Small, helmet-shaped organisms, transparent and graceful, are common on
the surface of the sea. These have been described by zoologists under the
name Pilidium. The organisation is simple. The body wall is a delicate
pellicle, through which, on the lower surface, a mouth leads into a
capacious stomach. Continual movements of waving cilia direct small
particles of food through the mouth to the digestive stomach. As there are
no organs of reproduction, it was assumed that these creatures were not
adults, but floating larvæ of some marine animal, and, after a good deal of
trouble, it was found that the Pilidia were the young stages of ribbon-shaped
worms of the group of Nemertines. At a definite stage in the life-history, a
fœtus begins to develop round about the stomach of the Pilidium, and
eventually completely encloses it and detaches it by violent muscular
contractions. The end of the story is that the fœtus abandons the body of the
Pilidium carrying off with it the stomach, an organ necessary to the
maintenance of life. The remnant of the Pilidium swims about in the sea-
Page 96
water, but soon dies as the result of the mortal wound caused by the
removal of the digestive organs.
The act by which the Nemertine separates from its mother is violent, and
yet the death of the Pilidium must be regarded as natural. It is the result of
agencies within the body and not, as in most cases of accidental death, of
violence from without.
The group of Nematode worms contains many common intestinal parasites
of man, such as Ascaris, Trichina, Trichocephalus, Oxyuris, &c., but also
others that live free in soil or water or in such fluids as vinegar. They are
protected by a strong cuticle, and some of them are viviparous, that is to
say, instead of laying eggs they give birth to young worms already well
grown and capable of independent activity. Amongst the human Nematode
parasites, the Trichinæ give birth to swarms of small larvæ which easily
escape from the body of the mother by the female generative aperture. In
the case of some free-living Nematodes, however, the female aperture is too
small to give passage to the rather stout larvæ. More than forty years ago,
when I was investigating the life-history87 of one of these Nematodes
(Diplogaster tridentatus) I was struck by the fact that the larvæ could leave
the body of the mother only by violence and after they had devoured most
of its substance. These larvæ develop from eggs produced within the
maternal body. As the external reproductive aperture of the female is
minute, the larvæ cannot escape through it, but wander amongst the tissues
tearing and absorbing them. The mother soon dies, and although her death
is violent, it must be included in the category of natural death.
From the teleological point of view it might be said that Pilidium and
Diplogaster cease to live because they have fulfilled their function of giving
rise to a Nemertine or young Nematodes. Their natural death would thus be
predestined. There is no ground for such an interpretation. On the other
hand, it is certain that this death, coming after the birth of the new
generation, is in no way against the preservation of the species in which the
extraordinary natural death by violence occurs. If the female orifice of
Diplogaster were slightly larger, the larvæ would emerge without difficulty
and without causing the death of the mother which none the less would
have fulfilled her purpose.
removal of the digestive organs.
The act by which the Nemertine separates from its mother is violent, and
yet the death of the Pilidium must be regarded as natural. It is the result of
agencies within the body and not, as in most cases of accidental death, of
violence from without.
The group of Nematode worms contains many common intestinal parasites
of man, such as Ascaris, Trichina, Trichocephalus, Oxyuris, &c., but also
others that live free in soil or water or in such fluids as vinegar. They are
protected by a strong cuticle, and some of them are viviparous, that is to
say, instead of laying eggs they give birth to young worms already well
grown and capable of independent activity. Amongst the human Nematode
parasites, the Trichinæ give birth to swarms of small larvæ which easily
escape from the body of the mother by the female generative aperture. In
the case of some free-living Nematodes, however, the female aperture is too
small to give passage to the rather stout larvæ. More than forty years ago,
when I was investigating the life-history87 of one of these Nematodes
(Diplogaster tridentatus) I was struck by the fact that the larvæ could leave
the body of the mother only by violence and after they had devoured most
of its substance. These larvæ develop from eggs produced within the
maternal body. As the external reproductive aperture of the female is
minute, the larvæ cannot escape through it, but wander amongst the tissues
tearing and absorbing them. The mother soon dies, and although her death
is violent, it must be included in the category of natural death.
From the teleological point of view it might be said that Pilidium and
Diplogaster cease to live because they have fulfilled their function of giving
rise to a Nemertine or young Nematodes. Their natural death would thus be
predestined. There is no ground for such an interpretation. On the other
hand, it is certain that this death, coming after the birth of the new
generation, is in no way against the preservation of the species in which the
extraordinary natural death by violence occurs. If the female orifice of
Diplogaster were slightly larger, the larvæ would emerge without difficulty
and without causing the death of the mother which none the less would
have fulfilled her purpose.
Page 97
All the cases of natural death amongst animals are not so brutal as those of
the Pilidium and the Nemertine worms. In many instances the death is
peaceful. As very frequently it is difficult to establish definitely that the
death is natural, I shall select clear cases.
Animals are occasionally found which are devoid of some organ necessary
for prolonged life. The absence of a digestive tract in an animal that lives in
an environment rich in dissolved nutritive material (as for instance
tapeworms living in the intestinal tract) is not surprising. But when
creatures of the sea or of fresh water have no digestive tract, their life can
be maintained only at the expense of nutritive material stored within them
during embryonic life. The death which comes eventually is truly natural.
The best cases, that is to say those which can be studied most completely, of
such natural death occur amongst the Rotifera. These are minute creatures
of fresh or sea water, at one time confused with the Infusoria, but possessed
of a much more complex organisation. They have a well-developed
digestive tube, organs of excretion, nervous system, and organs of sense.
The animals are diœcious; in each species both males and females exist.
Whilst the females have the complete structure of the species, the males are
much reduced, and are devoid of a digestive canal. The cuticle is fairly
stout, and they are unable to absorb dissolved nutriment through it; as they
have no organs of digestion, their life must be short.
To study in detail the life and death of these creatures, I selected a species
sent to me by M. Haffkine. So far as I can judge, the species in question is a
hitherto unknown member of the genus Pleurotrocha, and I propose for it
the name Pleurotrocha haffkini. This rotifer is convenient to study as it
thrives in vessels containing fresh-water to which some bread-crumb has
been added (in the proportion of a gram of bread to 500 grams of water).
The sexes of the little rotifer can be distinguished from the earliest age, for
eggs that are to become females are much larger than those from which
males develop. It is easy to isolate the male eggs and to follow the life-
history up to the moment of natural death. The whole course of life from the
laying of the egg until death lasts only about three days, and is probably the
shortest duration of life in the animal kingdom. Although some Ephemeridæ
live only a few hours in the adult state, their total life-cycle is much longer
than that of the rotifers, as the larval stages last for months or even for
years.
the Pilidium and the Nemertine worms. In many instances the death is
peaceful. As very frequently it is difficult to establish definitely that the
death is natural, I shall select clear cases.
Animals are occasionally found which are devoid of some organ necessary
for prolonged life. The absence of a digestive tract in an animal that lives in
an environment rich in dissolved nutritive material (as for instance
tapeworms living in the intestinal tract) is not surprising. But when
creatures of the sea or of fresh water have no digestive tract, their life can
be maintained only at the expense of nutritive material stored within them
during embryonic life. The death which comes eventually is truly natural.
The best cases, that is to say those which can be studied most completely, of
such natural death occur amongst the Rotifera. These are minute creatures
of fresh or sea water, at one time confused with the Infusoria, but possessed
of a much more complex organisation. They have a well-developed
digestive tube, organs of excretion, nervous system, and organs of sense.
The animals are diœcious; in each species both males and females exist.
Whilst the females have the complete structure of the species, the males are
much reduced, and are devoid of a digestive canal. The cuticle is fairly
stout, and they are unable to absorb dissolved nutriment through it; as they
have no organs of digestion, their life must be short.
To study in detail the life and death of these creatures, I selected a species
sent to me by M. Haffkine. So far as I can judge, the species in question is a
hitherto unknown member of the genus Pleurotrocha, and I propose for it
the name Pleurotrocha haffkini. This rotifer is convenient to study as it
thrives in vessels containing fresh-water to which some bread-crumb has
been added (in the proportion of a gram of bread to 500 grams of water).
The sexes of the little rotifer can be distinguished from the earliest age, for
eggs that are to become females are much larger than those from which
males develop. It is easy to isolate the male eggs and to follow the life-
history up to the moment of natural death. The whole course of life from the
laying of the egg until death lasts only about three days, and is probably the
shortest duration of life in the animal kingdom. Although some Ephemeridæ
live only a few hours in the adult state, their total life-cycle is much longer
than that of the rotifers, as the larval stages last for months or even for
years.
Page 98
Fig. 16.—Male Pleurotrocha haffkini.
The little males (Fig. 16) begin to swim soon after hatching, the wheel-
apparatus and the musculature being vigorous. They seek out the females,
as their reproductive organs are mature almost at the moment of hatching.
The transparent body, which is devoid of digestive apparatus, swarms with
mobile spermatozoa. As soon as the male has seized a female, he discharges
the contents of his body. It might be supposed that such an evacuation
would cause a violent perturbation of the system leading to the death of the
organism. There is no question of this however. The males are able to live
for twenty-four hours after having accomplished their function, and the
period represents a third of their total duration of life. Moreover, I have
isolated males from females without any prolongation of their lives. In one
experiment, I isolated two males and placed a third in company with two
females. It was the third specimen that lived longest.
The natural death of the males is foreshadowed by a weakening of the
movements; although the muscles and cilia remain mobile, the whole
animal moves only spasmodically; sometimes the muscles of the head
contract, sometimes those of the tail, but no locomotion occurs.
Occasionally there is a violent effort of ciliary motion as if the attempt were
being made to overcome the immobility of the body. Such a condition lasts
for several hours and is followed by death. The spermatozoa inside the body
retain activity last of all.
Towards the crisis, bacteria, which abound in the medium occupied by the
rotifers, begin to attack the males. Some cluster round the head, others
round the tail, although none of them can effect entrance to the body. The
death of the males cannot be attributed to microbial infection, but comes
from some intrinsic cause.
The little males (Fig. 16) begin to swim soon after hatching, the wheel-
apparatus and the musculature being vigorous. They seek out the females,
as their reproductive organs are mature almost at the moment of hatching.
The transparent body, which is devoid of digestive apparatus, swarms with
mobile spermatozoa. As soon as the male has seized a female, he discharges
the contents of his body. It might be supposed that such an evacuation
would cause a violent perturbation of the system leading to the death of the
organism. There is no question of this however. The males are able to live
for twenty-four hours after having accomplished their function, and the
period represents a third of their total duration of life. Moreover, I have
isolated males from females without any prolongation of their lives. In one
experiment, I isolated two males and placed a third in company with two
females. It was the third specimen that lived longest.
The natural death of the males is foreshadowed by a weakening of the
movements; although the muscles and cilia remain mobile, the whole
animal moves only spasmodically; sometimes the muscles of the head
contract, sometimes those of the tail, but no locomotion occurs.
Occasionally there is a violent effort of ciliary motion as if the attempt were
being made to overcome the immobility of the body. Such a condition lasts
for several hours and is followed by death. The spermatozoa inside the body
retain activity last of all.
Towards the crisis, bacteria, which abound in the medium occupied by the
rotifers, begin to attack the males. Some cluster round the head, others
round the tail, although none of them can effect entrance to the body. The
death of the males cannot be attributed to microbial infection, but comes
from some intrinsic cause.
Page 99
Is it inanition that is the cause of death? I do not think so, because up to the
time of death the tissues appear to be unmodified. In the case of the females
I have sometimes seen phenomena of inanition. In old and exhausted
cultures the starved females become thin, flattened and quite transparent,
and the tissues lose their granular appearance. No such changes are visible
in the dying males, the tissues of which, on the contrary, retain a normal
aspect.
The most probable explanation is that death comes from poisoning by the
secretions of the tissues themselves. The large size of the organs of
excretion indicates that in the course of metabolism waste matter is
produced some of which is got rid of. If, after a time, the secretions are
insufficiently eliminated, the tissues must be poisoned. As death is preceded
by a spasm of uncoordinated movement, it appears as if the fatal
intoxication of the males affected the nervous system first. The vibrating
cilia and the muscles are attacked later.
There can be no doubt but that the death of these male rotifers is natural in
the fullest sense. The females, however, although they are provided with
complete digestive organs, do not escape a similar fate. Their life is longer
and more complex than that of the males, and so is subject to many more
chances. The females therefore may come to die from starvation or from
other external, accidental causes. But, if they are kept in favourable
conditions, they may live for about fifteen days, towards the end of which
they die naturally, exhibiting the symptoms that I have described in the case
of the males (Fig. 17).
Fig. 17.—Female Pleurtrocha haffkini, which has died a natural
death.
time of death the tissues appear to be unmodified. In the case of the females
I have sometimes seen phenomena of inanition. In old and exhausted
cultures the starved females become thin, flattened and quite transparent,
and the tissues lose their granular appearance. No such changes are visible
in the dying males, the tissues of which, on the contrary, retain a normal
aspect.
The most probable explanation is that death comes from poisoning by the
secretions of the tissues themselves. The large size of the organs of
excretion indicates that in the course of metabolism waste matter is
produced some of which is got rid of. If, after a time, the secretions are
insufficiently eliminated, the tissues must be poisoned. As death is preceded
by a spasm of uncoordinated movement, it appears as if the fatal
intoxication of the males affected the nervous system first. The vibrating
cilia and the muscles are attacked later.
There can be no doubt but that the death of these male rotifers is natural in
the fullest sense. The females, however, although they are provided with
complete digestive organs, do not escape a similar fate. Their life is longer
and more complex than that of the males, and so is subject to many more
chances. The females therefore may come to die from starvation or from
other external, accidental causes. But, if they are kept in favourable
conditions, they may live for about fifteen days, towards the end of which
they die naturally, exhibiting the symptoms that I have described in the case
of the males (Fig. 17).
Fig. 17.—Female Pleurtrocha haffkini, which has died a natural
death.
Page 100
Rotifers are not the only animals which undergo natural death in a fashion
quite unlike the violent end of Pilidium and Diplogaster. There are other
cases amongst invertebrates, but I shall limit myself to describing one that
is well ascertained.
More than fifty years ago, Dana, the American naturalist, discovered a
pelagic marine creature with characters so curious that he gave to it the
name Monstrilla. It is a little crustacean akin to the Cyclops of lakes. But
although the latter is endowed with the organs necessary to capture and
digest food, Monstrilla has neither organs of prehension nor a digestive
canal. It is a highly muscular animal with organs of sense and reproduction
and a nervous system; but it is devoid of apparatus for prolonging life by
nutrition. Monstrilla therefore is a creature doomed to natural death.
The detailed observations of M. Malaquin88 have supplied full information
regarding this strange life-history. Monstrilla passes a portion of its life as a
parasite on Annelid worms. In that stage it accumulates the necessary
material for the growth of the sexual products (ova and spermatozoa) and
for free life in the sea whilst the young are developing. It is not only the
males which have no digestive apparatus. The females also lack it, which is
the more surprising as they carry about the eggs attached to the body (as is
done by many other Crustacea, such as crayfish and lobsters) until the
young are ready to hatch (Fig. 18). M. Malaquin thinks that the Monstrillas
die of starvation.
“As they are without a digestive tube or organs of prehension or
mastication,” M. Malaquin says (p. 192), “the Monstrillas, which have no
means of nutrition, are doomed to death from inanition after a short pelagic
life. This is a logical inference from their structure.”
In support of his view, M. Malaquin states that before death the tissues and
organs show plain signs of degeneration.
“The eyes first show traces of degeneration. The pigment spreads and
disappears little by little and then the visual elements fade out.”
“Finally, individuals, usually females, show complete degeneration. A
female taken in a fine-meshed net showed no trace of organs in the head;
the eyes, the brain and the intestinal tract had disappeared almost
completely. The antennæ were reduced to stumps consisting of the lowest
quite unlike the violent end of Pilidium and Diplogaster. There are other
cases amongst invertebrates, but I shall limit myself to describing one that
is well ascertained.
More than fifty years ago, Dana, the American naturalist, discovered a
pelagic marine creature with characters so curious that he gave to it the
name Monstrilla. It is a little crustacean akin to the Cyclops of lakes. But
although the latter is endowed with the organs necessary to capture and
digest food, Monstrilla has neither organs of prehension nor a digestive
canal. It is a highly muscular animal with organs of sense and reproduction
and a nervous system; but it is devoid of apparatus for prolonging life by
nutrition. Monstrilla therefore is a creature doomed to natural death.
The detailed observations of M. Malaquin88 have supplied full information
regarding this strange life-history. Monstrilla passes a portion of its life as a
parasite on Annelid worms. In that stage it accumulates the necessary
material for the growth of the sexual products (ova and spermatozoa) and
for free life in the sea whilst the young are developing. It is not only the
males which have no digestive apparatus. The females also lack it, which is
the more surprising as they carry about the eggs attached to the body (as is
done by many other Crustacea, such as crayfish and lobsters) until the
young are ready to hatch (Fig. 18). M. Malaquin thinks that the Monstrillas
die of starvation.
“As they are without a digestive tube or organs of prehension or
mastication,” M. Malaquin says (p. 192), “the Monstrillas, which have no
means of nutrition, are doomed to death from inanition after a short pelagic
life. This is a logical inference from their structure.”
In support of his view, M. Malaquin states that before death the tissues and
organs show plain signs of degeneration.
“The eyes first show traces of degeneration. The pigment spreads and
disappears little by little and then the visual elements fade out.”
“Finally, individuals, usually females, show complete degeneration. A
female taken in a fine-meshed net showed no trace of organs in the head;
the eyes, the brain and the intestinal tract had disappeared almost
completely. The antennæ were reduced to stumps consisting of the lowest
Page 101
joint and a portion of the second. These
were clear indications of the senility that
precedes death” (p. 194).
Such evidence not only supports the
hypothesis that the natural death of
Monstrilla is due to inanition, but is
opposed to a similar interpretation being
applied to the case of male rotifers, in
which death is not preceded by wasting of
the organs. The death of some insects,
which comes rapidly after the adult stage
has been reached, cannot readily be
attributed to starvation. In the strange
butterflies known as psychids (Solenobia)
some of the females lay eggs without
having been fertilised,89 and their life in
the adult condition lasts only a day. On the
other hand, other females of the same
butterfly are fertilised before laying their
eggs and in this case survive for more than
a week although they take no food. The
rapid death of the first-mentioned set
cannot be attributed to inanition.
In some Ephemeridæ, which supply good
cases of natural death, the end comes after
a few hours of adult life without any sign
of degeneration of the organs. As in others
(Chloë), life lasts for several days without
food having been taken, it is clear that
inanition is not the cause of the swift
arrival of death in the first set. It is much
more probable that the natural death is due
Fig. 18.—Monstrilla. (After M. to an auto-intoxication which takes effect
Malaquin.) at different intervals of time in different
circumstances.90
were clear indications of the senility that
precedes death” (p. 194).
Such evidence not only supports the
hypothesis that the natural death of
Monstrilla is due to inanition, but is
opposed to a similar interpretation being
applied to the case of male rotifers, in
which death is not preceded by wasting of
the organs. The death of some insects,
which comes rapidly after the adult stage
has been reached, cannot readily be
attributed to starvation. In the strange
butterflies known as psychids (Solenobia)
some of the females lay eggs without
having been fertilised,89 and their life in
the adult condition lasts only a day. On the
other hand, other females of the same
butterfly are fertilised before laying their
eggs and in this case survive for more than
a week although they take no food. The
rapid death of the first-mentioned set
cannot be attributed to inanition.
In some Ephemeridæ, which supply good
cases of natural death, the end comes after
a few hours of adult life without any sign
of degeneration of the organs. As in others
(Chloë), life lasts for several days without
food having been taken, it is clear that
inanition is not the cause of the swift
arrival of death in the first set. It is much
more probable that the natural death is due
Fig. 18.—Monstrilla. (After M. to an auto-intoxication which takes effect
Malaquin.) at different intervals of time in different
circumstances.90
Page 102
In the higher animals such as vertebrates the conditions are less favourable
than in the case of insects for the investigation of the causes of natural
death. Vertebrates have always well-developed organs of digestion and so
live a relatively longer time and encounter a greater number of chances of
accident, with the result that in most cases death comes from external
accidental causes. Vertebrates usually perish from hunger or cold, or are
devoured by their enemies or killed by the attacks of parasites or diseases.
There remains only the human race amongst the more highly developed
animals, in which to study the onset of natural death. And in the human race
cases which may be designated as natural are extremely rare.
III
NATURAL DEATH AMONGST HUMAN BEINGS
Natural death in the aged—Analogy of natural death and sleep—Theories of sleep—
Ponogenes—The instinct of sleep—The instinct of natural death—Replies to critics—
Agreeable sensation at the approach of death
The death of old people, which has often been described as natural death, is
in most cases due to infectious diseases, particularly pneumonia (which is
extremely dangerous) or to attacks of apoplexy. True natural death must be
very rare in the human race. Demange91 has described it as follows:
—“Arrived at extreme old age, and still preserving the last flickers of an
expiring intelligence, the old man feels weakness gaining on him from day
to day. His limbs refuse to obey his will, the skin becomes insensitive, dry,
and cold; the extremities lose their warmth; the face is thin; the eyes hollow
and the sight weak; speech dies out on his lips which remain open; life quits
the old man from the circumference towards the centre; breathing grows
laboured, and at last the heart stops beating. The old man passes away
quietly, seeming to fall asleep for the last time.” Such is the course of what
properly speaking is natural death.
The natural death of human beings cannot be regarded as due to exhaustion
from reproduction or from inanition, as in the case of Monstrilla. It is much
more likely that it is due to an auto-intoxication of the organism. The close
than in the case of insects for the investigation of the causes of natural
death. Vertebrates have always well-developed organs of digestion and so
live a relatively longer time and encounter a greater number of chances of
accident, with the result that in most cases death comes from external
accidental causes. Vertebrates usually perish from hunger or cold, or are
devoured by their enemies or killed by the attacks of parasites or diseases.
There remains only the human race amongst the more highly developed
animals, in which to study the onset of natural death. And in the human race
cases which may be designated as natural are extremely rare.
III
NATURAL DEATH AMONGST HUMAN BEINGS
Natural death in the aged—Analogy of natural death and sleep—Theories of sleep—
Ponogenes—The instinct of sleep—The instinct of natural death—Replies to critics—
Agreeable sensation at the approach of death
The death of old people, which has often been described as natural death, is
in most cases due to infectious diseases, particularly pneumonia (which is
extremely dangerous) or to attacks of apoplexy. True natural death must be
very rare in the human race. Demange91 has described it as follows:
—“Arrived at extreme old age, and still preserving the last flickers of an
expiring intelligence, the old man feels weakness gaining on him from day
to day. His limbs refuse to obey his will, the skin becomes insensitive, dry,
and cold; the extremities lose their warmth; the face is thin; the eyes hollow
and the sight weak; speech dies out on his lips which remain open; life quits
the old man from the circumference towards the centre; breathing grows
laboured, and at last the heart stops beating. The old man passes away
quietly, seeming to fall asleep for the last time.” Such is the course of what
properly speaking is natural death.
The natural death of human beings cannot be regarded as due to exhaustion
from reproduction or from inanition, as in the case of Monstrilla. It is much
more likely that it is due to an auto-intoxication of the organism. The close
Page 103
analogy between natural death and sleep supports this view, as it is very
probable that sleep is due to poisoning by the products of organic activity.
It is more than fifty years since sleep was explained as the result of auto-
intoxication. Obersteiner, Binz, Preyer, and Errera are among the competent
men of science who have taken this view. The first two attributed sleep to
an accumulation in the brain of the products of exhaustion which are carried
away by the blood during repose. The attempt has been made even to
discover the nature of these narcotic substances. Some investigators think
that an acid, produced during the activity of the organs, is stored up in
quantities that cannot be tolerated. During sleep, the organism gets rid of
this excess of acid.
Preyer92 tried to put the problem upon a more exact basis by the theory that
the activity of all the organs gives rise to substances which he called
ponogenes and which he regarded as producing the sensation of fatigue.
According to him these substances accumulate during the waking hours,
and are destroyed by oxidation during sleep. Preyer thinks that lactic acid is
the most important of the ponogenes, and lays stress on its narcotic effect. If
his theory were correct, there would be a remarkable analogy between the
auto-intoxication by lactic acid in the cases of man and animals, and the
case of bacteria which produce the same acid and the fermenting activity of
which is arrested as the acid accumulates. Just as sleep may be transformed
to natural death, so also the arrest of lactic fermentation may be followed by
the death of the bacteria which form the acid.
So far, however, there has been no confirmation of Preyer’s theory. Errera93
has brought forward against it another theory according to which the cause
of sleep is not acid products, but certain alkaline substances described by
M. Armand Gautier under the name of leucomaines. Gautier laid down that
these substances act on the nervous centres and produce fatigue and
sleepiness. According to Errera they might very well be the cause of sleep,
as that comes on at a time when there is the greatest accumulation of these
leucomaines in the body. He thinks that their action in producing sleep is a
direct intoxication of the nerve centres. During sleep they are removed, and
the disturbance which was produced in the organism is arrested.
If it were possible to accept Errera’s theory, a kind of analogy could be
established between sleep and natural death on the one hand, and the arrest
probable that sleep is due to poisoning by the products of organic activity.
It is more than fifty years since sleep was explained as the result of auto-
intoxication. Obersteiner, Binz, Preyer, and Errera are among the competent
men of science who have taken this view. The first two attributed sleep to
an accumulation in the brain of the products of exhaustion which are carried
away by the blood during repose. The attempt has been made even to
discover the nature of these narcotic substances. Some investigators think
that an acid, produced during the activity of the organs, is stored up in
quantities that cannot be tolerated. During sleep, the organism gets rid of
this excess of acid.
Preyer92 tried to put the problem upon a more exact basis by the theory that
the activity of all the organs gives rise to substances which he called
ponogenes and which he regarded as producing the sensation of fatigue.
According to him these substances accumulate during the waking hours,
and are destroyed by oxidation during sleep. Preyer thinks that lactic acid is
the most important of the ponogenes, and lays stress on its narcotic effect. If
his theory were correct, there would be a remarkable analogy between the
auto-intoxication by lactic acid in the cases of man and animals, and the
case of bacteria which produce the same acid and the fermenting activity of
which is arrested as the acid accumulates. Just as sleep may be transformed
to natural death, so also the arrest of lactic fermentation may be followed by
the death of the bacteria which form the acid.
So far, however, there has been no confirmation of Preyer’s theory. Errera93
has brought forward against it another theory according to which the cause
of sleep is not acid products, but certain alkaline substances described by
M. Armand Gautier under the name of leucomaines. Gautier laid down that
these substances act on the nervous centres and produce fatigue and
sleepiness. According to Errera they might very well be the cause of sleep,
as that comes on at a time when there is the greatest accumulation of these
leucomaines in the body. He thinks that their action in producing sleep is a
direct intoxication of the nerve centres. During sleep they are removed, and
the disturbance which was produced in the organism is arrested.
If it were possible to accept Errera’s theory, a kind of analogy could be
established between sleep and natural death on the one hand, and the arrest
Page 104
of development and death of yeast grown in nitrogenous media on the other
hand, because in the latter case the poisoning is produced by an alkaline salt
of ammonia. It must be confessed, however, that the actual state of our
knowledge does not allow of a definite view of the real mechanism of the
sleep-producing intoxication. Our ideas regarding leucomaines in general
are still incomplete, and, recently, one of them, adrenaline, the product of
the supra-renal capsules, has been investigated. Adrenaline is an alkaloid94
which is produced in the supra-renal bodies and is discharged into the
blood. It has the power of contracting arteries strongly, and has been used to
control blood-pressure. When it is given in large quantities or in frequent
doses, it acts as a true poison, whilst, in small doses, it produces anæmia of
the organs and has a special influence on the nervous centres. Dr. Zeigan95
has shown that a milligramme of adrenaline, mixed with five grammes of
normal salt solution injected into the brain of cats, produces a soporific
action. “About a minute after the injection, the animal appears to be
plunged into deep sleep which lasts from 30 to 50 minutes. During this
time, the sensitiveness of the animal has completely ceased throughout the
body, and for some time after that it is much decreased. When they awake
the animals seem to have been drunk with sleep for some time.” Sleep is
generally associated with anæmia of the brain, and as adrenaline can
actually produce such anæmia, it might be supposed that this narcotic
substance is the most important of the organic products which give rise to
sleep. Against this hypothesis, however, some weight must be given to
recent investigations on fatigue and its causes.
Each stage in the advance of knowledge has had its influence on the study
of the interesting and complex problem of sleep. When it was thought that
alkaloids (ptomaines) were of great importance in infectious diseases, it was
attempted to explain sleep as due to the action of similar bodies. Now, when
we believe that in such diseases the chief part is played by poisons of
extremely complex chemical composition, the attempt is made to explain
fatigue and sleep by similar bodies.
Weichardt96 has recently made the best known investigations in this
direction. This young man maintains with ardour the view that during the
activity of organs there is an accumulation of special materials which are
neither organic acids nor leucomaines, but which are much more like the
toxic products of pathogenic bacteria.
hand, because in the latter case the poisoning is produced by an alkaline salt
of ammonia. It must be confessed, however, that the actual state of our
knowledge does not allow of a definite view of the real mechanism of the
sleep-producing intoxication. Our ideas regarding leucomaines in general
are still incomplete, and, recently, one of them, adrenaline, the product of
the supra-renal capsules, has been investigated. Adrenaline is an alkaloid94
which is produced in the supra-renal bodies and is discharged into the
blood. It has the power of contracting arteries strongly, and has been used to
control blood-pressure. When it is given in large quantities or in frequent
doses, it acts as a true poison, whilst, in small doses, it produces anæmia of
the organs and has a special influence on the nervous centres. Dr. Zeigan95
has shown that a milligramme of adrenaline, mixed with five grammes of
normal salt solution injected into the brain of cats, produces a soporific
action. “About a minute after the injection, the animal appears to be
plunged into deep sleep which lasts from 30 to 50 minutes. During this
time, the sensitiveness of the animal has completely ceased throughout the
body, and for some time after that it is much decreased. When they awake
the animals seem to have been drunk with sleep for some time.” Sleep is
generally associated with anæmia of the brain, and as adrenaline can
actually produce such anæmia, it might be supposed that this narcotic
substance is the most important of the organic products which give rise to
sleep. Against this hypothesis, however, some weight must be given to
recent investigations on fatigue and its causes.
Each stage in the advance of knowledge has had its influence on the study
of the interesting and complex problem of sleep. When it was thought that
alkaloids (ptomaines) were of great importance in infectious diseases, it was
attempted to explain sleep as due to the action of similar bodies. Now, when
we believe that in such diseases the chief part is played by poisons of
extremely complex chemical composition, the attempt is made to explain
fatigue and sleep by similar bodies.
Weichardt96 has recently made the best known investigations in this
direction. This young man maintains with ardour the view that during the
activity of organs there is an accumulation of special materials which are
neither organic acids nor leucomaines, but which are much more like the
toxic products of pathogenic bacteria.
Page 105
Weichardt made animals in his laboratory go through fatiguing movements
for hours and then killed them. The extract from muscles of such animals
had a powerful toxic effect when it was injected into normal animals,
producing lassitude and sometimes death within 20 to 40 hours. As all
attempts to determine the exact chemical nature of this fatigue-producing
substance were baffled, it is impossible to get an exact account of it.
Amongst its properties there is one of great interest. When it has passed into
the circulation of normal animals in quantities insufficient to produce death,
it excites the formation of an anti-toxin in the same way as a poison of
diphtheria stimulates the production of a diphtheria anti-toxin.
When Weichardt injected into animals a mixture of the poison which
produces fatigue with small doses of the serum antidote, no results
followed. The neutralising effect of the antidote was apparent even when it
was introduced by the mouth. Towards the end of his investigations,
Weichardt supposed that it would be possible to obtain a material that
would prevent fatigue.
Although it is still impossible to specify exactly the nature of the substances
which accumulate during the activity of organs and which produce fatigue
and sleep, it is becoming more and more probable that such substances
exist, and that sleep is really an auto-intoxication of the organism. So far,
such a theory has not been shaken by any argument. Recently M. E.
Claparède,97 a psychologist of Geneva, has argued against the current
theory of sleep. He thinks that it is contradicted by the fact that new-born
infants sleep a great deal, whilst very old people sleep very little. This fact,
however, can readily be explained by the greater sensibility of the nerve
centres of infants, as shown with regard to many harmful agencies. The
other objections of Claparède, such as the fact that sleepiness is induced by
exercise in the open air, or that excess of sleep itself produces sleepiness,
are not really incompatible with the theory of auto-intoxication. They are
facts of secondary importance probably depending on some complication
which the present state of our knowledge makes it difficult to indicate
exactly. The insomnia of neurasthenia, which Claparède brings forward as
another objection, can readily be explained as due to hyperæsthesia of the
nervous tissues which lose part of their sensitiveness to poisons.
On the other hand, there are many well established facts in agreement with
the theory of auto-intoxication. Leaving out of the question sleep induced
for hours and then killed them. The extract from muscles of such animals
had a powerful toxic effect when it was injected into normal animals,
producing lassitude and sometimes death within 20 to 40 hours. As all
attempts to determine the exact chemical nature of this fatigue-producing
substance were baffled, it is impossible to get an exact account of it.
Amongst its properties there is one of great interest. When it has passed into
the circulation of normal animals in quantities insufficient to produce death,
it excites the formation of an anti-toxin in the same way as a poison of
diphtheria stimulates the production of a diphtheria anti-toxin.
When Weichardt injected into animals a mixture of the poison which
produces fatigue with small doses of the serum antidote, no results
followed. The neutralising effect of the antidote was apparent even when it
was introduced by the mouth. Towards the end of his investigations,
Weichardt supposed that it would be possible to obtain a material that
would prevent fatigue.
Although it is still impossible to specify exactly the nature of the substances
which accumulate during the activity of organs and which produce fatigue
and sleep, it is becoming more and more probable that such substances
exist, and that sleep is really an auto-intoxication of the organism. So far,
such a theory has not been shaken by any argument. Recently M. E.
Claparède,97 a psychologist of Geneva, has argued against the current
theory of sleep. He thinks that it is contradicted by the fact that new-born
infants sleep a great deal, whilst very old people sleep very little. This fact,
however, can readily be explained by the greater sensibility of the nerve
centres of infants, as shown with regard to many harmful agencies. The
other objections of Claparède, such as the fact that sleepiness is induced by
exercise in the open air, or that excess of sleep itself produces sleepiness,
are not really incompatible with the theory of auto-intoxication. They are
facts of secondary importance probably depending on some complication
which the present state of our knowledge makes it difficult to indicate
exactly. The insomnia of neurasthenia, which Claparède brings forward as
another objection, can readily be explained as due to hyperæsthesia of the
nervous tissues which lose part of their sensitiveness to poisons.
On the other hand, there are many well established facts in agreement with
the theory of auto-intoxication. Leaving out of the question sleep induced
Page 106
by narcotics, I may mention in this connection the so-called “sleeping
sickness.” It has been proved that this disease is caused by a microscopic
parasite, the Trypanosoma gambiense of Dutton, which develops in the
blood and spreads to the liquid of the membranes surrounding the central
nervous system. One of the most typical symptoms of the advanced stages
of this disease is continual drowsiness. “The drowsiness increases
progressively, and the habitual attitude becomes characteristic; the head is
bent on the breast; the eyelids are closed; in earlier stages the invalid can be
aroused easily, but, after a time, incurable attacks of sleep overcome the
patient in all circumstances, but especially after meals. These fits of
sleepiness become longer and deeper, until they reach a comatose condition
from which it is almost impossible to arouse the patient.”98 The total result
of medical knowledge of this disease is that it is impossible to doubt that
the sleepiness is due to intoxication produced by the poison of the
trypanosome.
Claparède has opposed what he calls an “instinctive” theory to the toxic
theory of sleep. According to this theory, sleep is the manifestation of an
instinct “the object of which is to arrest activity; we do not sleep because
we are intoxicated or exhausted, but to prevent ourselves from falling into
such a condition.” However, in order to bring this narcotic instinct into play,
certain conditions are necessary, one of which certainly would be the
intoxication of the nerve centres. M. Claparède supposes that sleep is an
active phenomenon, induced when waste matter begins to accumulate in the
organism. “To bring about sleep, the nerve centres must be influenced by
waste matter, and this influence can readily be regarded as a kind of
intoxication.”
Hunger is an instinctive sensation as much as sleepiness, but it does not
appear until our tissues are in a condition of exhaustion, the exact nature of
which cannot as yet be indicated. There is no real contradiction between the
toxic and instinctive theories of sleep. The two theories represent different
sides of a special condition of the organism.
The analogy between sleep and natural death is in favour of the supposition
that the latter, also, is due to an intoxication much more profound and
serious than that which results in sleep. Therefore, as natural death in
human beings has been studied only very superficially, it is impossible to do
more than frame theories regarding it.
sickness.” It has been proved that this disease is caused by a microscopic
parasite, the Trypanosoma gambiense of Dutton, which develops in the
blood and spreads to the liquid of the membranes surrounding the central
nervous system. One of the most typical symptoms of the advanced stages
of this disease is continual drowsiness. “The drowsiness increases
progressively, and the habitual attitude becomes characteristic; the head is
bent on the breast; the eyelids are closed; in earlier stages the invalid can be
aroused easily, but, after a time, incurable attacks of sleep overcome the
patient in all circumstances, but especially after meals. These fits of
sleepiness become longer and deeper, until they reach a comatose condition
from which it is almost impossible to arouse the patient.”98 The total result
of medical knowledge of this disease is that it is impossible to doubt that
the sleepiness is due to intoxication produced by the poison of the
trypanosome.
Claparède has opposed what he calls an “instinctive” theory to the toxic
theory of sleep. According to this theory, sleep is the manifestation of an
instinct “the object of which is to arrest activity; we do not sleep because
we are intoxicated or exhausted, but to prevent ourselves from falling into
such a condition.” However, in order to bring this narcotic instinct into play,
certain conditions are necessary, one of which certainly would be the
intoxication of the nerve centres. M. Claparède supposes that sleep is an
active phenomenon, induced when waste matter begins to accumulate in the
organism. “To bring about sleep, the nerve centres must be influenced by
waste matter, and this influence can readily be regarded as a kind of
intoxication.”
Hunger is an instinctive sensation as much as sleepiness, but it does not
appear until our tissues are in a condition of exhaustion, the exact nature of
which cannot as yet be indicated. There is no real contradiction between the
toxic and instinctive theories of sleep. The two theories represent different
sides of a special condition of the organism.
The analogy between sleep and natural death is in favour of the supposition
that the latter, also, is due to an intoxication much more profound and
serious than that which results in sleep. Therefore, as natural death in
human beings has been studied only very superficially, it is impossible to do
more than frame theories regarding it.
Page 107
It would be natural if, just as in sleep there is an instinctive desire for rest,
so also the natural death of man were preceded by an instinctive wish for it.
As I have already discussed this subject in the “Nature of Man” (chap. xi) I
need not deal with it at length here. I should like, however, to add some
information which I have recently obtained.
The most striking fact in favour of the existence of the instinct for natural
death in man appears to me to have been related by Tokarsky in regard to an
old woman. While Tokarsky was alive I asked one of his friends to obtain
for me further details of this very interesting case. Unfortunately Tokarsky
could add nothing to what he had already published in his article. I think
that I have discovered the source of his information. In his famous book on
the Physiology of Taste99 Brillat-Savarin relates as follows:—“A great-aunt
of mine died at the age of 93. Although she had been confined to bed for
some time her faculties were still well preserved, and the only evidence of
her condition was the decrease in appetite and weakening of her voice. She
had always been very friendly to me, and once when I was at her bedside,
ready to tend her affectionately, although that did not hinder me from seeing
her with the philosophical eye that I always turned on everything about me,
‘Is it you, my nephew?’ she said in her feeble voice. ‘Yes, Aunt, I am here
at your service, and I think you will do very well to take a drop of this good
old wine.’ ‘Give it me, my dear; I can always take a little wine.’ I made
ready at once, and gently supporting her, gave her half a glass of my best
wine. She brightened up at once, and turning on me her eyes which used to
be so beautiful, said: ‘Thank you very much for this last kindness; if you
ever reach my age you will find that one wants to die just as one wants to
sleep.’ These were her last words, and in half an hour she fell into her last
sleep.” The details make it certain that this was a case of the instinct of
natural death. The instinct showed itself at an age not very great in the case
of a woman who had preserved her mental faculties. Generally, however, it
seems not to appear till much later, for old men usually exhibit a keen wish
to live.
It is a well-known saying that the longer a man has lived the more he
wishes to live. Charles Renouvier,100 a French philosopher who died a few
years ago, has left a definite proof of the truth of the saying. When he was
eighty-eight years old, and knew that he was dying, he recorded his
impressions in his last days. Let me quote from what he wrote four days
so also the natural death of man were preceded by an instinctive wish for it.
As I have already discussed this subject in the “Nature of Man” (chap. xi) I
need not deal with it at length here. I should like, however, to add some
information which I have recently obtained.
The most striking fact in favour of the existence of the instinct for natural
death in man appears to me to have been related by Tokarsky in regard to an
old woman. While Tokarsky was alive I asked one of his friends to obtain
for me further details of this very interesting case. Unfortunately Tokarsky
could add nothing to what he had already published in his article. I think
that I have discovered the source of his information. In his famous book on
the Physiology of Taste99 Brillat-Savarin relates as follows:—“A great-aunt
of mine died at the age of 93. Although she had been confined to bed for
some time her faculties were still well preserved, and the only evidence of
her condition was the decrease in appetite and weakening of her voice. She
had always been very friendly to me, and once when I was at her bedside,
ready to tend her affectionately, although that did not hinder me from seeing
her with the philosophical eye that I always turned on everything about me,
‘Is it you, my nephew?’ she said in her feeble voice. ‘Yes, Aunt, I am here
at your service, and I think you will do very well to take a drop of this good
old wine.’ ‘Give it me, my dear; I can always take a little wine.’ I made
ready at once, and gently supporting her, gave her half a glass of my best
wine. She brightened up at once, and turning on me her eyes which used to
be so beautiful, said: ‘Thank you very much for this last kindness; if you
ever reach my age you will find that one wants to die just as one wants to
sleep.’ These were her last words, and in half an hour she fell into her last
sleep.” The details make it certain that this was a case of the instinct of
natural death. The instinct showed itself at an age not very great in the case
of a woman who had preserved her mental faculties. Generally, however, it
seems not to appear till much later, for old men usually exhibit a keen wish
to live.
It is a well-known saying that the longer a man has lived the more he
wishes to live. Charles Renouvier,100 a French philosopher who died a few
years ago, has left a definite proof of the truth of the saying. When he was
eighty-eight years old, and knew that he was dying, he recorded his
impressions in his last days. Let me quote from what he wrote four days
Page 108
before his death. “I have no illusions about my condition; I know quite well
that I am going to die, perhaps in a week, perhaps in a fortnight. And I have
still so much to say on my subject.” “At my age I have no longer the right
to hope: my days are numbered, and perhaps my hours. I must resign
myself.” “I do not die without regrets. I regret that I cannot foresee in any
way the fate of my views.” “And I am leaving the world before I have said
my last word. A man always dies before he has finished his work, and that
is the saddest of the sorrows of life.” “But that is not the whole trouble,
when a man is old, very old, and accustomed to life, it is very difficult to
die. I think that young men accept the idea of dying more easily, perhaps
more willingly than old men. When one is more than eighty years old, one
is cowardly and shrinks from death. And when one knows and can no
longer doubt that death is coming near, deep bitterness falls on the soul.” “I
have faced the question from all sides in the last few days; I turn the one
idea over in my mind; I know that I am going to die, but I cannot persuade
myself that I am going to die. It is not the philosopher in me that protests.
The philosopher does not fear death; it is the old man. The old man has not
the courage to submit, and yet I have to submit to the inevitable.”
I know a lady, a hundred and two years old, who is so oppressed by the idea
of death, that those about her have to conceal from her the death of any of
her acquaintances. Mde. Robineau, however, when between one hundred
and four and one hundred and five years old, became quite indifferent to the
close approach of her own death. She often expressed a wish for it, thinking
herself useless in the world.
M. Yves Delage101 in an analysis of my “Nature of Man” doubted the
existence of an instinct for death. “Animals,” said he, “cannot have the
instinct for death, because they do not know of death. In their case, we must
consider that what happens is an apathy tending to the abolition of the sense
of self-preservation. In man, the knowledge of death implies that the
indifference to its approach cannot be an instinct.” “There may be
developed, at the end of life, a special state of mind which accepts death
with indifference or with pleasure, but such a state cannot be designated as
an instinct.” M. Delage, however, does not suggest what the state of mind in
question is to be called. As the aunt of Brillat-Savarin compared her
sensations just before death with the desire to sleep, and as this desire is an
instinctive manifestation, I think that the cheerful acquiescence in death,
that I am going to die, perhaps in a week, perhaps in a fortnight. And I have
still so much to say on my subject.” “At my age I have no longer the right
to hope: my days are numbered, and perhaps my hours. I must resign
myself.” “I do not die without regrets. I regret that I cannot foresee in any
way the fate of my views.” “And I am leaving the world before I have said
my last word. A man always dies before he has finished his work, and that
is the saddest of the sorrows of life.” “But that is not the whole trouble,
when a man is old, very old, and accustomed to life, it is very difficult to
die. I think that young men accept the idea of dying more easily, perhaps
more willingly than old men. When one is more than eighty years old, one
is cowardly and shrinks from death. And when one knows and can no
longer doubt that death is coming near, deep bitterness falls on the soul.” “I
have faced the question from all sides in the last few days; I turn the one
idea over in my mind; I know that I am going to die, but I cannot persuade
myself that I am going to die. It is not the philosopher in me that protests.
The philosopher does not fear death; it is the old man. The old man has not
the courage to submit, and yet I have to submit to the inevitable.”
I know a lady, a hundred and two years old, who is so oppressed by the idea
of death, that those about her have to conceal from her the death of any of
her acquaintances. Mde. Robineau, however, when between one hundred
and four and one hundred and five years old, became quite indifferent to the
close approach of her own death. She often expressed a wish for it, thinking
herself useless in the world.
M. Yves Delage101 in an analysis of my “Nature of Man” doubted the
existence of an instinct for death. “Animals,” said he, “cannot have the
instinct for death, because they do not know of death. In their case, we must
consider that what happens is an apathy tending to the abolition of the sense
of self-preservation. In man, the knowledge of death implies that the
indifference to its approach cannot be an instinct.” “There may be
developed, at the end of life, a special state of mind which accepts death
with indifference or with pleasure, but such a state cannot be designated as
an instinct.” M. Delage, however, does not suggest what the state of mind in
question is to be called. As the aunt of Brillat-Savarin compared her
sensations just before death with the desire to sleep, and as this desire is an
instinctive manifestation, I think that the cheerful acquiescence in death,
Page 109
exhibited by extremely old people, is also a kind of instinct. However, the
important matter is that the sentiment exists, and not what we are to call it.
M. Delage is far from denying its existence.
Dr. Cancalon,102 another of my critics, cannot admit the existence of an
instinct of death, “because of the theory of evolution. Of what good would
it have been, as M. Metchnikoff tells us that natural death is very rare; how
could it have been transmitted, as it comes into existence long after the age
of reproduction, and how could it have aided the survival of the species? If
its existence were proved as the result of biological evolution, it would be a
contradiction of adaptation and an argument in favour of final causes.” I
cannot agree in any way with these opinions. In the first place, it is well
known that men and animals have many harmful instincts that do not tend
to the survival of the species. I need recall only the disharmonic instincts
which I described in the “Nature of Man,” such as the anomalies of the
sexual instinct, the instinct which drives parents to devour their young or
which attracts insects to flames. The instinct of natural death is far from
being harmful, and may even have many advantages. If men were
convinced that the end of life were natural death accompanied by a special
instinct like that of the need for sleep, one of the greatest sources of
pessimism would disappear. Now pessimism is the cause of the voluntary
death of a certain number of people and of many others refraining from
reproduction. The instinct of natural death would contribute to the
maintenance of the life of the individual and of the species. On the other
hand, there is no difficulty in admitting the existence of instincts hostile to
the preservation of the species, especially in the case of man, in whom
individualism has reached its highest development. As man is the only
animal with a definite notion of death, there is nothing extraordinary if it is
in man that the instinctive wish for death develops. M. Cancalon denies the
possibility that death can be pleasant, as it is the arrest of the physiological
functions; but as sleep and syncope are often preceded by very pleasant
sensations, why may not this also happen in natural death? Several facts
prove it beyond dispute. It is even probable that the approach of natural
death is one of the most pleasant sensations that can exist.
It is indubitable that in a large number of cases of death, the cessation of life
is associated with very painful sensations. One has only to see the horror
shown in the faces o£ many dying people to be convinced of this, but there
important matter is that the sentiment exists, and not what we are to call it.
M. Delage is far from denying its existence.
Dr. Cancalon,102 another of my critics, cannot admit the existence of an
instinct of death, “because of the theory of evolution. Of what good would
it have been, as M. Metchnikoff tells us that natural death is very rare; how
could it have been transmitted, as it comes into existence long after the age
of reproduction, and how could it have aided the survival of the species? If
its existence were proved as the result of biological evolution, it would be a
contradiction of adaptation and an argument in favour of final causes.” I
cannot agree in any way with these opinions. In the first place, it is well
known that men and animals have many harmful instincts that do not tend
to the survival of the species. I need recall only the disharmonic instincts
which I described in the “Nature of Man,” such as the anomalies of the
sexual instinct, the instinct which drives parents to devour their young or
which attracts insects to flames. The instinct of natural death is far from
being harmful, and may even have many advantages. If men were
convinced that the end of life were natural death accompanied by a special
instinct like that of the need for sleep, one of the greatest sources of
pessimism would disappear. Now pessimism is the cause of the voluntary
death of a certain number of people and of many others refraining from
reproduction. The instinct of natural death would contribute to the
maintenance of the life of the individual and of the species. On the other
hand, there is no difficulty in admitting the existence of instincts hostile to
the preservation of the species, especially in the case of man, in whom
individualism has reached its highest development. As man is the only
animal with a definite notion of death, there is nothing extraordinary if it is
in man that the instinctive wish for death develops. M. Cancalon denies the
possibility that death can be pleasant, as it is the arrest of the physiological
functions; but as sleep and syncope are often preceded by very pleasant
sensations, why may not this also happen in natural death? Several facts
prove it beyond dispute. It is even probable that the approach of natural
death is one of the most pleasant sensations that can exist.
It is indubitable that in a large number of cases of death, the cessation of life
is associated with very painful sensations. One has only to see the horror
shown in the faces o£ many dying people to be convinced of this, but there
Page 110
are diseases and serious accidents in which the approach of death does not
arouse sorrowful sensations. I myself, in a crisis of intermittent fever, in
which the temperature descended in a very short time from about 106° Fahr.
to below normal, experienced a feeling of extraordinary weakness, certainly
like that at the approach of death. This sensation was much more pleasant
than painful. In two cases of serious morphia poisoning, my sensations were
more agreeable; I felt a pleasant weakness, associated with a sensation of
lightness of the body, as if I were floating in the air.
Those who have noted the sensations of persons rescued from death have
related similar facts. Prof. Heim, of Zurich, has described a fall in the
mountains which nearly killed him, as well as several similar accidents to
Alpine tourists. In all these cases he states that there was a sensation of
pleasure.103 Dr. Sollier has told of a young woman addicted to morphia,
who had been convinced that she was at the point of death. On recovering
from a most serious attack of syncope, from which she was restored only by
giving another dose of morphia, she cried: “I seem to come from far away;
how happy I was!” Another of Dr. Sollier’s patients, a lady who had an
attack of peritonitis from which she expected to die, felt herself “suffused
with a feeling of well-being, or rather the absence of all pain.” In a third
Case of Dr. Sollier, a young woman suffering from puerperal fever, feeling
herself at the point of death, had a similar sensation “of physical well-being
and of detachment from everything.”104
As a sensation of happiness occurs even in cases of pathological death, it is
much more likely to occur in natural death. If natural death be preceded by
the loss of the instinct of life and by the acquisition of a new instinct, it
would be the best possible end compatible with the real organisation of
human nature.
I do not pretend to give the reader a finished study on natural death. This
chapter of Thanatology, the science of death, only opens the subject; but it
is already apparent that study of the circumstances of natural death in
plants, in the animal world, and in human beings, may give facts of the
highest interest to science and humanity.
arouse sorrowful sensations. I myself, in a crisis of intermittent fever, in
which the temperature descended in a very short time from about 106° Fahr.
to below normal, experienced a feeling of extraordinary weakness, certainly
like that at the approach of death. This sensation was much more pleasant
than painful. In two cases of serious morphia poisoning, my sensations were
more agreeable; I felt a pleasant weakness, associated with a sensation of
lightness of the body, as if I were floating in the air.
Those who have noted the sensations of persons rescued from death have
related similar facts. Prof. Heim, of Zurich, has described a fall in the
mountains which nearly killed him, as well as several similar accidents to
Alpine tourists. In all these cases he states that there was a sensation of
pleasure.103 Dr. Sollier has told of a young woman addicted to morphia,
who had been convinced that she was at the point of death. On recovering
from a most serious attack of syncope, from which she was restored only by
giving another dose of morphia, she cried: “I seem to come from far away;
how happy I was!” Another of Dr. Sollier’s patients, a lady who had an
attack of peritonitis from which she expected to die, felt herself “suffused
with a feeling of well-being, or rather the absence of all pain.” In a third
Case of Dr. Sollier, a young woman suffering from puerperal fever, feeling
herself at the point of death, had a similar sensation “of physical well-being
and of detachment from everything.”104
As a sensation of happiness occurs even in cases of pathological death, it is
much more likely to occur in natural death. If natural death be preceded by
the loss of the instinct of life and by the acquisition of a new instinct, it
would be the best possible end compatible with the real organisation of
human nature.
I do not pretend to give the reader a finished study on natural death. This
chapter of Thanatology, the science of death, only opens the subject; but it
is already apparent that study of the circumstances of natural death in
plants, in the animal world, and in human beings, may give facts of the
highest interest to science and humanity.
Page 111
PART IV
SHOULD WE TRY TO PROLONG HUMAN LIFE?
I
THE BENEFIT TO HUMANITY
Complaints of the shortness of our life—Theory of “medical selection” as a cause of
degeneration of the race—Utility of prolonging human life
Although the duration of the life of man is one of the longest amongst
mammals, men find it too short. From the remotest times the shortness of
life has been complained of, and there have been many attempts to prolong
it. Man has not been satisfied with a duration of life notably greater than
that of his nearest relatives, and has wished to live at least as long as
reptiles.
In antiquity, Hippocrates and Aristotle thought that human life was too
short, and Theophrastus, although he died at an advanced age (he lived
probably seventy-five years) lamented when he was dying “that nature had
given to deer and to crows a life so long and so useless, and to man only
one that was often very short.”105
Seneca (De brevitate vitæ) and later, in the 18th century, Haller, strove in
vain against such complaints, which have lasted until our own days. Whilst
animals have no more than an instinctive fear of danger, and cling to life
without knowing what death is, men have acquired an exact idea of death,
and their knowledge increases their desire to live.
Ought we to listen to the cry of humanity that life is too short and that it
would be well to prolong it? Would it really be for the good of the human
race to extend the duration of the life of man beyond its present limits?
Already it is complained that the burden of supporting old people is too
heavy, and statesmen are perturbed by the enormous expense which will be
entailed by State support of the aged. In France, in a population of about 38
millions, there are two millions (1,912,153) who have reached the age of
SHOULD WE TRY TO PROLONG HUMAN LIFE?
I
THE BENEFIT TO HUMANITY
Complaints of the shortness of our life—Theory of “medical selection” as a cause of
degeneration of the race—Utility of prolonging human life
Although the duration of the life of man is one of the longest amongst
mammals, men find it too short. From the remotest times the shortness of
life has been complained of, and there have been many attempts to prolong
it. Man has not been satisfied with a duration of life notably greater than
that of his nearest relatives, and has wished to live at least as long as
reptiles.
In antiquity, Hippocrates and Aristotle thought that human life was too
short, and Theophrastus, although he died at an advanced age (he lived
probably seventy-five years) lamented when he was dying “that nature had
given to deer and to crows a life so long and so useless, and to man only
one that was often very short.”105
Seneca (De brevitate vitæ) and later, in the 18th century, Haller, strove in
vain against such complaints, which have lasted until our own days. Whilst
animals have no more than an instinctive fear of danger, and cling to life
without knowing what death is, men have acquired an exact idea of death,
and their knowledge increases their desire to live.
Ought we to listen to the cry of humanity that life is too short and that it
would be well to prolong it? Would it really be for the good of the human
race to extend the duration of the life of man beyond its present limits?
Already it is complained that the burden of supporting old people is too
heavy, and statesmen are perturbed by the enormous expense which will be
entailed by State support of the aged. In France, in a population of about 38
millions, there are two millions (1,912,153) who have reached the age of
Page 112
70, that is to say, about five per cent. of the total. The support of these old
people absorbs a sum of nearly £6,000,000 per annum.106 However
generous may be the views of the members of the French Parliament, many
of them hesitate at the idea of so great a burden. Without doubt, men say,
the cost of maintaining the aged will become still heavier if the duration of
life is to be prolonged. If old people are to live longer, the resources of the
young will be reduced.
If the question were merely one of prolonging the life of old people without
modifying old age itself, such considerations would be justified. It must be
understood, however, that the prolongation of life would be associated with
the preservation of intelligence and of the power to work. In the earlier
parts of this book I have given many examples which show the possibility
of useful work being done by persons of advanced years. When we have
reduced or abolished such causes of precocious senility as intemperance
and disease, it will no longer be necessary to give pensions at the age of
sixty or seventy years. The cost of supporting the old, instead of increasing,
will diminish progressively.
If attainment of the normal duration of life, which is much greater than the
average life to-day, were to overpopulate the earth, a very remote
possibility, this could be remedied by lowering the birth-rate. Even at the
present time, while the earth is far from being too quickly peopled, artificial
limitation of the birth-rate takes place perhaps to an unnecessary extent.
It has long been a charge against medicine and hygiene that they tend to
weaken the human race. By scientific means unhealthy people, or those
with inherited blemishes, have been preserved so that they can give birth to
weak offspring. If natural selection were allowed free play, such individuals
would perish and make room for others, stronger and better able to live.
Haeckel has given the name “medical selection” to this process under which
humanity degenerates because of the influence of medical science.
It is clear that a valuable existence of great service to humanity is
compatible with a feeble constitution and precarious health. Amongst
tuberculous people, those with inherited or acquired syphilis, and those with
a constitution unbalanced in other ways, that is to say, amongst so-called
degenerates, there have been individuals who have had a large share in the
advance of the human race. I need only instance the names of Fresnel,
people absorbs a sum of nearly £6,000,000 per annum.106 However
generous may be the views of the members of the French Parliament, many
of them hesitate at the idea of so great a burden. Without doubt, men say,
the cost of maintaining the aged will become still heavier if the duration of
life is to be prolonged. If old people are to live longer, the resources of the
young will be reduced.
If the question were merely one of prolonging the life of old people without
modifying old age itself, such considerations would be justified. It must be
understood, however, that the prolongation of life would be associated with
the preservation of intelligence and of the power to work. In the earlier
parts of this book I have given many examples which show the possibility
of useful work being done by persons of advanced years. When we have
reduced or abolished such causes of precocious senility as intemperance
and disease, it will no longer be necessary to give pensions at the age of
sixty or seventy years. The cost of supporting the old, instead of increasing,
will diminish progressively.
If attainment of the normal duration of life, which is much greater than the
average life to-day, were to overpopulate the earth, a very remote
possibility, this could be remedied by lowering the birth-rate. Even at the
present time, while the earth is far from being too quickly peopled, artificial
limitation of the birth-rate takes place perhaps to an unnecessary extent.
It has long been a charge against medicine and hygiene that they tend to
weaken the human race. By scientific means unhealthy people, or those
with inherited blemishes, have been preserved so that they can give birth to
weak offspring. If natural selection were allowed free play, such individuals
would perish and make room for others, stronger and better able to live.
Haeckel has given the name “medical selection” to this process under which
humanity degenerates because of the influence of medical science.
It is clear that a valuable existence of great service to humanity is
compatible with a feeble constitution and precarious health. Amongst
tuberculous people, those with inherited or acquired syphilis, and those with
a constitution unbalanced in other ways, that is to say, amongst so-called
degenerates, there have been individuals who have had a large share in the
advance of the human race. I need only instance the names of Fresnel,
Page 113
Leopardi, Weber, Schumann and Chopin. It does not follow that we ought
to cherish diseases and leave to natural selection the duty of preserving the
individuals which can resist them. On the other hand, it is indispensable to
try to blot out the diseases themselves, and, in particular, the evils of old
age, by the methods of hygiene and therapeutics. The theory of medical
selection must be given up as contrary to the good of the human race. We
must use all our endeavours to allow men to complete their normal course
of life, and to make it possible for old men to play their parts as advisers
and judges, endowed with their long experience of life.
To the question propounded at the beginning of this section of my book, I
can make only one answer: Yes, it is useful to prolong human life.
II
SUGGESTIONS FOR THE PROLONGATION OF LIFE
Ancient methods of prolonging human life—Gerokomy—The “immortality draught” of the
Taoists—Brown-Séquard’s method—The spermine of Poehl—Dr. Weber’s precepts—
Increased duration of life in historical times—Hygienic maxims—Decrease in cutaneous
cancer
Men of all times have attempted all manner of devices to bring about an
increase of years, although they have not considered the problem in its
general bearing.
In Biblical times it was believed that contact with young girls would
rejuvenate and prolong the life of feeble old men. In the first Book of Kings
it is related as follows:—
“Now King David was old and stricken in years; and they covered him with
clothes, but he gat no heat.
“Wherefore his servants said unto him, Let there be sought for my Lord the
king a young virgin; let her stand before the king and let her cherish him,
and let her lie in thy bosom, that my lord the king may get heat” (Kings I.,
chap. i.).
to cherish diseases and leave to natural selection the duty of preserving the
individuals which can resist them. On the other hand, it is indispensable to
try to blot out the diseases themselves, and, in particular, the evils of old
age, by the methods of hygiene and therapeutics. The theory of medical
selection must be given up as contrary to the good of the human race. We
must use all our endeavours to allow men to complete their normal course
of life, and to make it possible for old men to play their parts as advisers
and judges, endowed with their long experience of life.
To the question propounded at the beginning of this section of my book, I
can make only one answer: Yes, it is useful to prolong human life.
II
SUGGESTIONS FOR THE PROLONGATION OF LIFE
Ancient methods of prolonging human life—Gerokomy—The “immortality draught” of the
Taoists—Brown-Séquard’s method—The spermine of Poehl—Dr. Weber’s precepts—
Increased duration of life in historical times—Hygienic maxims—Decrease in cutaneous
cancer
Men of all times have attempted all manner of devices to bring about an
increase of years, although they have not considered the problem in its
general bearing.
In Biblical times it was believed that contact with young girls would
rejuvenate and prolong the life of feeble old men. In the first Book of Kings
it is related as follows:—
“Now King David was old and stricken in years; and they covered him with
clothes, but he gat no heat.
“Wherefore his servants said unto him, Let there be sought for my Lord the
king a young virgin; let her stand before the king and let her cherish him,
and let her lie in thy bosom, that my lord the king may get heat” (Kings I.,
chap. i.).
Page 114
This device, afterwards called gerokomy, was employed by the Greeks and
Romans, and has had followers in modern times. Boerhave, the famous
Dutch physician (1668-1738), “recommended an old burgomaster of
Amsterdam to lie between two young girls, assuring him that he would thus
recover strength and spirits.” After quoting this, Hufeland, the well-known
author of “Macrobiotique” in the eighteenth century, made the following
reflection:—“If it be remembered how the exhalations from newly opened
animals stimulate paralysed limbs, and how the application of living
animals soothes a violent pain, we cannot refuse our approval to the
method.”107
Cohausen, a doctor of the eighteenth century, published a treatise on a
Roman, Hermippus, who had died aged a hundred and fifteen years. He had
been a master in a school for young girls, and his life, passed in their midst,
was greatly prolonged. “Accordingly,” commented Hufeland (p. 6), “he
gives the excellent advice to breathe the air of young girls night and
morning, and gives his assurance that by so doing the vital forces will be
strengthened and preserved, as adepts know well that the breath of young
girls contains the vital principle in all its purity.”
In the Eastern half of the world equal ingenuity was exercised in the attempt
to rejuvenate the body and renew the forces of man. The successors of Lao-
Tsé searched for a beverage that would confer immortality and have
recounted extraordinary matters concerning it.
The Emperor of China, Chi-Hoang-Ti (221-209 B.C.), displayed extreme
friendliness to the Taoists, believing that these had the secret of long life
and immortality. In his reign, Su-Chi, a Taoist magician, persuaded him that
eastwards of China there lay fortunate islands inhabited by genii whose
pleasure it was to give their guests to drink of a beverage conferring
immortality. Chi-Hoang-Ti was so delighted with the news that he equipped
an expedition to discover the islands.108
Later on, in the dynasty of the Tchengs (618-907), when Taoism had again
become a religion in favour at court, efforts were made to obtain imperial
patronage for the draught of immortality, and magicians were in high
favour. The Taoist writers called this drink Tan or Kin-Tan, the “golden
elixir.” According to Mayers, the chief ingredients of this marvellous
compound were “cinnabar, the red sulphate of mercury, and a red salt of
Romans, and has had followers in modern times. Boerhave, the famous
Dutch physician (1668-1738), “recommended an old burgomaster of
Amsterdam to lie between two young girls, assuring him that he would thus
recover strength and spirits.” After quoting this, Hufeland, the well-known
author of “Macrobiotique” in the eighteenth century, made the following
reflection:—“If it be remembered how the exhalations from newly opened
animals stimulate paralysed limbs, and how the application of living
animals soothes a violent pain, we cannot refuse our approval to the
method.”107
Cohausen, a doctor of the eighteenth century, published a treatise on a
Roman, Hermippus, who had died aged a hundred and fifteen years. He had
been a master in a school for young girls, and his life, passed in their midst,
was greatly prolonged. “Accordingly,” commented Hufeland (p. 6), “he
gives the excellent advice to breathe the air of young girls night and
morning, and gives his assurance that by so doing the vital forces will be
strengthened and preserved, as adepts know well that the breath of young
girls contains the vital principle in all its purity.”
In the Eastern half of the world equal ingenuity was exercised in the attempt
to rejuvenate the body and renew the forces of man. The successors of Lao-
Tsé searched for a beverage that would confer immortality and have
recounted extraordinary matters concerning it.
The Emperor of China, Chi-Hoang-Ti (221-209 B.C.), displayed extreme
friendliness to the Taoists, believing that these had the secret of long life
and immortality. In his reign, Su-Chi, a Taoist magician, persuaded him that
eastwards of China there lay fortunate islands inhabited by genii whose
pleasure it was to give their guests to drink of a beverage conferring
immortality. Chi-Hoang-Ti was so delighted with the news that he equipped
an expedition to discover the islands.108
Later on, in the dynasty of the Tchengs (618-907), when Taoism had again
become a religion in favour at court, efforts were made to obtain imperial
patronage for the draught of immortality, and magicians were in high
favour. The Taoist writers called this drink Tan or Kin-Tan, the “golden
elixir.” According to Mayers, the chief ingredients of this marvellous
compound were “cinnabar, the red sulphate of mercury, and a red salt of
Page 115
arsenic, potassium and mother-of-pearl. The preparation of it required nine
months, and it passed through nine changes. One who had drunk of it was
changed to a crane, and in this form could ascend to the dwellings of the
genii, there to abide with them.”109
The Taoists represent their saints, in the shade of willows, seeking the elixir
of life, and in Chinese Buddhist temples there are placed votive cakes
shaped like the tortoise, a sacred animal and the symbol of long life.
Worshippers let stones of divination fall on these cakes and so ascertained if
their lives were to be prolonged, promising for each subsequent year as
many cakes as the divinity might demand.
The mysticism of the East reached Europe in the Middle Ages, and then,
and even in modern times, drugs were used to prolong life. Cagliostro, the
celebrated quack of the eighteenth century, boasted that he had discovered
an elixir of life by the use of which he had survived for many thousand
years.
There still exists, in some modern pharmacopœias, an “elixir ad longam
vitam” compounded of aloes and other purgatives. Analogous preparations
are known, such as the “vital essence of Augsburg” which is a mixture of
purgatives and resins.
Serious physicians have rejected such preparations of the quacks. They
have abandoned the search for a specific, and, in their efforts to prolong
human life, have relied on common rules of hygiene, such as cleanliness,
exercise, fresh air, and general sobriety. In our own days, Brown-Séquard is
an isolated instance of a seeker for a specific against senescence. This
distinguished physiologist, setting out from the view that the weakness of
old men is due partly to diminution of the secretions of the testes, hoped to
find a remedy in the employment of subcutaneous injections of emulsions
of the testes of animals (dogs and guinea-pigs). Brown-Séquard,110 then
aged 72 years, gave himself several such injections, and declared that he
found himself reinforced and rejuvenated. Since then, numbers of persons
have undergone the treatment which for a time was in vogue. The
observations of physicians, made on old men and sick persons, have not
justified the hopes which were entertained of the mode of treatment.
Fürbringer,111 in particular, working in Germany, has discredited the
injections of Brown-Séquard. However, instead of following exactly the
months, and it passed through nine changes. One who had drunk of it was
changed to a crane, and in this form could ascend to the dwellings of the
genii, there to abide with them.”109
The Taoists represent their saints, in the shade of willows, seeking the elixir
of life, and in Chinese Buddhist temples there are placed votive cakes
shaped like the tortoise, a sacred animal and the symbol of long life.
Worshippers let stones of divination fall on these cakes and so ascertained if
their lives were to be prolonged, promising for each subsequent year as
many cakes as the divinity might demand.
The mysticism of the East reached Europe in the Middle Ages, and then,
and even in modern times, drugs were used to prolong life. Cagliostro, the
celebrated quack of the eighteenth century, boasted that he had discovered
an elixir of life by the use of which he had survived for many thousand
years.
There still exists, in some modern pharmacopœias, an “elixir ad longam
vitam” compounded of aloes and other purgatives. Analogous preparations
are known, such as the “vital essence of Augsburg” which is a mixture of
purgatives and resins.
Serious physicians have rejected such preparations of the quacks. They
have abandoned the search for a specific, and, in their efforts to prolong
human life, have relied on common rules of hygiene, such as cleanliness,
exercise, fresh air, and general sobriety. In our own days, Brown-Séquard is
an isolated instance of a seeker for a specific against senescence. This
distinguished physiologist, setting out from the view that the weakness of
old men is due partly to diminution of the secretions of the testes, hoped to
find a remedy in the employment of subcutaneous injections of emulsions
of the testes of animals (dogs and guinea-pigs). Brown-Séquard,110 then
aged 72 years, gave himself several such injections, and declared that he
found himself reinforced and rejuvenated. Since then, numbers of persons
have undergone the treatment which for a time was in vogue. The
observations of physicians, made on old men and sick persons, have not
justified the hopes which were entertained of the mode of treatment.
Fürbringer,111 in particular, working in Germany, has discredited the
injections of Brown-Séquard. However, instead of following exactly the
Page 116
original prescription, Fürbringer employed a testicular emulsion which had
been previously raised to the boiling-point. Brown-Séquard’s method has
not resisted scientific investigation, and although it is still occasionally
employed in France, it has been given up in many countries.
Brown-Séquard laid stress on the efficacy of emulsions of testis as opposed
to chemical substances prepared from the gland. Other scientific men, on
the other hand, have attached value to such substances and in particular to
an organic alkali the salt of which is known as spermine. That salt, made by
Poehl of St. Petersburg, has been largely used. Several observers declare
that its employment, injected in solution or even absorbed directly as a
powder, has been followed by a strengthening of bodily power enfeebled by
age or labour.
As I have no personal experience of spermine, I shall quote from Professor
Poehl112 some indications of its efficacy. Several physicians (Drs.
Maximovitch, Bukojemsky, Krieger and Postoeff) have given injections of
spermine to enfeebled old men who had lost appetite and sleep, and have
noted improvement lasting for months. From the instances given, I have
selected that of an old lady of ninety-five years, afflicted with severe
sclerosis of the arteries, with no appetite, a bad digestion and constipation.
This patient had complained for several years of sacral pains, and moreover
was nearly quite deaf and suffered from periodic attacks of malarial fever.
The injections of spermine, given for a period of fifteen months, restored
the old lady to such an extent that she recovered her power of hearing and
felt the sacral pains only slightly and after a long walk. Her general
condition was highly satisfactory.
Spermine, as it has been used medically, is prepared not only from the testes
of animals but from the prostate gland, ovary, pancreas, thyroid gland and
spleen. The substance is not specially associated with spermatozoa but has a
wide distribution in the mammalian body.
In the medical treatment of the evils of old age, testicular emulsions or
spermine have not been so favoured as general hygienic measures. Dr.
Weber,113 a London medical man, has recently summarised more general
measures, and his evidence is the more important as he has been able to test
the efficacy of his precepts in his own case. Dr. Weber is 83 years old, and
in his practice has cared for many other old men.
been previously raised to the boiling-point. Brown-Séquard’s method has
not resisted scientific investigation, and although it is still occasionally
employed in France, it has been given up in many countries.
Brown-Séquard laid stress on the efficacy of emulsions of testis as opposed
to chemical substances prepared from the gland. Other scientific men, on
the other hand, have attached value to such substances and in particular to
an organic alkali the salt of which is known as spermine. That salt, made by
Poehl of St. Petersburg, has been largely used. Several observers declare
that its employment, injected in solution or even absorbed directly as a
powder, has been followed by a strengthening of bodily power enfeebled by
age or labour.
As I have no personal experience of spermine, I shall quote from Professor
Poehl112 some indications of its efficacy. Several physicians (Drs.
Maximovitch, Bukojemsky, Krieger and Postoeff) have given injections of
spermine to enfeebled old men who had lost appetite and sleep, and have
noted improvement lasting for months. From the instances given, I have
selected that of an old lady of ninety-five years, afflicted with severe
sclerosis of the arteries, with no appetite, a bad digestion and constipation.
This patient had complained for several years of sacral pains, and moreover
was nearly quite deaf and suffered from periodic attacks of malarial fever.
The injections of spermine, given for a period of fifteen months, restored
the old lady to such an extent that she recovered her power of hearing and
felt the sacral pains only slightly and after a long walk. Her general
condition was highly satisfactory.
Spermine, as it has been used medically, is prepared not only from the testes
of animals but from the prostate gland, ovary, pancreas, thyroid gland and
spleen. The substance is not specially associated with spermatozoa but has a
wide distribution in the mammalian body.
In the medical treatment of the evils of old age, testicular emulsions or
spermine have not been so favoured as general hygienic measures. Dr.
Weber,113 a London medical man, has recently summarised more general
measures, and his evidence is the more important as he has been able to test
the efficacy of his precepts in his own case. Dr. Weber is 83 years old, and
in his practice has cared for many other old men.
Page 117
The following are the precepts which Dr. Weber formulated: All the organs
must be preserved in a condition of vigour. It is necessary to recognise and
subdue any morbid tendencies whether these be hereditary or have been
acquired during life. It is necessary to be moderate in food and drink, and in
all other physical pleasures. The air should be pure in the dwelling and in
the vicinity. It is necessary to take exercise daily, whatever be the weather.
In many cases the respiratory movements must be specially exercised, and
exercise on level ground and up-hill should be taken. The persons should go
to bed early and rise early, and not sleep for more than six or seven hours. A
bath should be taken daily and the skin should be well rubbed, the water
used being hot or cold, according to taste. Sometimes it is advantageous to
use hot and cold water. Regular work and mental occupation are
indispensable. It is useful to stimulate the enjoyment of life so that the mind
may be tranquil and full of hope. On the other hand, the passions must be
controlled and the nervous sensations of grief avoided. Finally, there must
be a resolute intention to preserve the health, to avoid alcohol and other
stimulants as well as narcotics and soothing drugs.
By following his own precepts, Dr. Weber has enjoyed a vigorous and
happy old age. A Mde. Nausenne, who died on March 12th, 1756, at the age
of 125 years, in the Dinay Infirmary (Côtes-du-Nord) explained the secret
of her still greater longevity as follows: “Extreme sobriety, no worry, body
and mind quite calm” (Chemin, op. cit., p. 101).
Hygienic measures have been the most successful in prolonging life and in
lessening the ills of old age.
Although until quite recently hygiene has rested upon a very small number
of scientifically established facts, and although its precepts have not been
followed rigidly, none the less it has already succeeded in increasing the
duration of human life. This becomes evident if we compare the mortality
tables of the present day with those of the past.
There is reason to state definitely that the mortality in civilised countries
has decreased on the whole in the last one or two centuries. I have taken
some facts regarding this from the valuable monograph of M.
Westergaard.114 That author came to the conclusion that the mortality rate in
the 19th century in civilised countries was “much lower than in most earlier
centuries.” This diminution has been chiefly in infantile mortality.
must be preserved in a condition of vigour. It is necessary to recognise and
subdue any morbid tendencies whether these be hereditary or have been
acquired during life. It is necessary to be moderate in food and drink, and in
all other physical pleasures. The air should be pure in the dwelling and in
the vicinity. It is necessary to take exercise daily, whatever be the weather.
In many cases the respiratory movements must be specially exercised, and
exercise on level ground and up-hill should be taken. The persons should go
to bed early and rise early, and not sleep for more than six or seven hours. A
bath should be taken daily and the skin should be well rubbed, the water
used being hot or cold, according to taste. Sometimes it is advantageous to
use hot and cold water. Regular work and mental occupation are
indispensable. It is useful to stimulate the enjoyment of life so that the mind
may be tranquil and full of hope. On the other hand, the passions must be
controlled and the nervous sensations of grief avoided. Finally, there must
be a resolute intention to preserve the health, to avoid alcohol and other
stimulants as well as narcotics and soothing drugs.
By following his own precepts, Dr. Weber has enjoyed a vigorous and
happy old age. A Mde. Nausenne, who died on March 12th, 1756, at the age
of 125 years, in the Dinay Infirmary (Côtes-du-Nord) explained the secret
of her still greater longevity as follows: “Extreme sobriety, no worry, body
and mind quite calm” (Chemin, op. cit., p. 101).
Hygienic measures have been the most successful in prolonging life and in
lessening the ills of old age.
Although until quite recently hygiene has rested upon a very small number
of scientifically established facts, and although its precepts have not been
followed rigidly, none the less it has already succeeded in increasing the
duration of human life. This becomes evident if we compare the mortality
tables of the present day with those of the past.
There is reason to state definitely that the mortality in civilised countries
has decreased on the whole in the last one or two centuries. I have taken
some facts regarding this from the valuable monograph of M.
Westergaard.114 That author came to the conclusion that the mortality rate in
the 19th century in civilised countries was “much lower than in most earlier
centuries.” This diminution has been chiefly in infantile mortality.
Page 118
According to Mallet, the mortality rate of infants in the first year of their
life was, in Geneva, 26 per cent. in the 16th century, and fell gradually to
16-1/2 per cent. at the beginning of the 19th century. A similar change has
been reported from Berlin, Holland, Denmark and other places. However, it
is not only very young infants that have shown a diminution in the death-
rate. The life of old people has been prolonged to an extent equally
remarkable. The following are some of the facts which support this
statement. Whilst the old Protestant clergymen of Denmark at ages varying
from 74-1/2 to 89-1/2 years had a mortality rate of 22 per cent. in the
second half of the 18th century, the rate had sunk to 16·4 per cent. by the
middle of the 19th century. This is not an isolated fact. The old clergymen
of England (65 to 95 years) have also come to live longer, because in the
18th century the mortality rate was 11·5 per cent. and in the 19th century
(1800-1860) only 10·8 per cent. There has been a similar decrease in the
mortality rate in the members of both sexes of the Royal Houses of Europe
(Westergaard, p. 284).
From 1841 to 1850, in England and Wales 162·81 individuals out of every
thousand of both sexes died annually, but the corresponding figure for the
period 1881 to 1890 was decreased to 153·67 per thousand.
Westergaard (p. 296) has displayed in a most useful table the mortality in
the chief countries of Europe and in the State of Massachusetts, in two
periods of time. In the case of old persons from 70 to 75 years, there has
been a constant decrease in the death-rate, without any exceptions. The
exact statistics collected by Pension Bureaus and Life Assurance
Companies exhibit the same general tendency.
It cannot be disputed then that there has been a general increase in the
duration of life, and that old people live longer at the present time than in
former ages. This fact, however, cannot be taken absolutely, and it is still
possible that in particular cases there may have been more centenarians
hitherto than at present.
The prolongation of life which has come to pass in recent centuries must
certainly be attributed to the advance of hygiene. The general measures for
the preservation of health, although they were not specially directed to old
people, have had an effect of increasing their longevity. As in the 18th
century and for the greater part of the 19th, the science of hygiene was in a
life was, in Geneva, 26 per cent. in the 16th century, and fell gradually to
16-1/2 per cent. at the beginning of the 19th century. A similar change has
been reported from Berlin, Holland, Denmark and other places. However, it
is not only very young infants that have shown a diminution in the death-
rate. The life of old people has been prolonged to an extent equally
remarkable. The following are some of the facts which support this
statement. Whilst the old Protestant clergymen of Denmark at ages varying
from 74-1/2 to 89-1/2 years had a mortality rate of 22 per cent. in the
second half of the 18th century, the rate had sunk to 16·4 per cent. by the
middle of the 19th century. This is not an isolated fact. The old clergymen
of England (65 to 95 years) have also come to live longer, because in the
18th century the mortality rate was 11·5 per cent. and in the 19th century
(1800-1860) only 10·8 per cent. There has been a similar decrease in the
mortality rate in the members of both sexes of the Royal Houses of Europe
(Westergaard, p. 284).
From 1841 to 1850, in England and Wales 162·81 individuals out of every
thousand of both sexes died annually, but the corresponding figure for the
period 1881 to 1890 was decreased to 153·67 per thousand.
Westergaard (p. 296) has displayed in a most useful table the mortality in
the chief countries of Europe and in the State of Massachusetts, in two
periods of time. In the case of old persons from 70 to 75 years, there has
been a constant decrease in the death-rate, without any exceptions. The
exact statistics collected by Pension Bureaus and Life Assurance
Companies exhibit the same general tendency.
It cannot be disputed then that there has been a general increase in the
duration of life, and that old people live longer at the present time than in
former ages. This fact, however, cannot be taken absolutely, and it is still
possible that in particular cases there may have been more centenarians
hitherto than at present.
The prolongation of life which has come to pass in recent centuries must
certainly be attributed to the advance of hygiene. The general measures for
the preservation of health, although they were not specially directed to old
people, have had an effect of increasing their longevity. As in the 18th
century and for the greater part of the 19th, the science of hygiene was in a
Page 119
very rudimentary condition, we may well believe that improvement in
cleanliness and in the general conditions have contributed largely to the
prolongation of life. It is now a long time since Liebig said that the amount
of soap used could be taken as a measure of the degree of civilisation of a
people. As a matter of fact, cleanliness of the body brought about in the
most simple way, by washing with soap, has had a most important effect in
lessening disease and mortality from disease. In this connection, the fact
recently published by Prof. Czerny,115 a well-known German surgeon, has a
special interest. Although cancer, the special scourge of old age, has
increased in recent times, one form of the disease, cancer of the skin, has
diminished notably. “Cancers of the skin,” Prof. Czerny says, “are met with
almost exclusively on uncovered regions of the body, or on parts accessible
to the hands. They develop especially where the susceptibility is increased
by ulcers or scars which are easily soiled. And so it happens that in the
classes where care is taken as to cleanliness cancer of the skin is very rare
and certainly much more rare than it used to be.”
M. Westergaard thinks that vaccination against small-pox has been of
considerable importance in lowering the death-rate in the 19th century.
This, however, can have had little effect on the duration of life in old
people, as deaths due to small-pox in the old are excessively rare. For
instance, in the second half of the 18th century, that is to say before the
introduction of Jenner’s method, the mortality from small-pox at Berlin was
9·8 per cent. of all the deaths, but of these only 0·6 per cent. were cases of
persons more than fifteen years old. The rest, that is to say, 99·3 per cent.
fell on children under that age. It may be supposed that most of the old
people at that time were already protected by previous attacks of small-pox,
contracted when they were young.
If hygiene were able to prolong life when it was little developed, as was the
case until recently, we may well believe that, with our greater knowledge of
to-day, a much better result will be obtained.
III
cleanliness and in the general conditions have contributed largely to the
prolongation of life. It is now a long time since Liebig said that the amount
of soap used could be taken as a measure of the degree of civilisation of a
people. As a matter of fact, cleanliness of the body brought about in the
most simple way, by washing with soap, has had a most important effect in
lessening disease and mortality from disease. In this connection, the fact
recently published by Prof. Czerny,115 a well-known German surgeon, has a
special interest. Although cancer, the special scourge of old age, has
increased in recent times, one form of the disease, cancer of the skin, has
diminished notably. “Cancers of the skin,” Prof. Czerny says, “are met with
almost exclusively on uncovered regions of the body, or on parts accessible
to the hands. They develop especially where the susceptibility is increased
by ulcers or scars which are easily soiled. And so it happens that in the
classes where care is taken as to cleanliness cancer of the skin is very rare
and certainly much more rare than it used to be.”
M. Westergaard thinks that vaccination against small-pox has been of
considerable importance in lowering the death-rate in the 19th century.
This, however, can have had little effect on the duration of life in old
people, as deaths due to small-pox in the old are excessively rare. For
instance, in the second half of the 18th century, that is to say before the
introduction of Jenner’s method, the mortality from small-pox at Berlin was
9·8 per cent. of all the deaths, but of these only 0·6 per cent. were cases of
persons more than fifteen years old. The rest, that is to say, 99·3 per cent.
fell on children under that age. It may be supposed that most of the old
people at that time were already protected by previous attacks of small-pox,
contracted when they were young.
If hygiene were able to prolong life when it was little developed, as was the
case until recently, we may well believe that, with our greater knowledge of
to-day, a much better result will be obtained.
III
Page 120
DISEASES THAT SHORTEN LIFE
Measures against infectious diseases as aiding in the prolongation of life—Prevention of
syphilis—Attempts to prepare serums which could strengthen the higher elements of the
organism
Attacks of infectious diseases incurred during life frequently shorten its
duration and it has been observed that most centenarians have enjoyed good
health throughout their lives. Syphilis is the most important of these
diseases. It is not really a cause of death itself, but it predisposes the
organism to the attacks of other diseases, amongst the latter being some
particularly fatal to old people, such as diseases of the heart and blood-
vessels (angina pectoris and aneurism of the aorta) and some malignant
tumours, especially cancer of the tongue and of the mouth. To lengthen
human life, it is a fundamental necessity to avoid infection by syphilis. To
reach this result everything must be done to spread medical knowledge
about such diseases. It is absolutely necessary to overcome the deeply
rooted prejudice in favour of concealing everything relating to sexual
matters. Complete information should be widely spread as to the means of
protecting humanity against this awful scourge. It has now been possible to
apply experimental methods to the investigation of this disease, and science
has obtained a series of results of the highest practical utility. Prof. Neisser
of Breslau, one of the most distinguished of modern venereal physicians,
has summed up the present state of knowledge of these matters in the
following lines.116 “It is our duty as medical men,” he says, “to recommend
strongly as a means of disinfection in all possible cases of contagion the
calomel ointment which Metchnikoff and Roux have advised.” It is to be
hoped that future generations, by following this advice, will see an
enormous diminution in the number of cases of syphilis.
Syphilis, however, although a very important factor, is not alone in
shortening the life of man. A very large number of persons die prematurely
although they have not contracted that disease. We do not know the duration
of human life before the arrival of syphilis in Europe, but there is no reason
to think that it was very different from what it is to-day. We must, therefore,
try to prevent as many infectious diseases as possible, and recent advances
in medicine have made this task much less difficult. Pneumonia, it is true,
the most common infectious disease amongst the old, cannot yet be easily
avoided. All the anti-pneumonic serums which have hitherto been prepared
Measures against infectious diseases as aiding in the prolongation of life—Prevention of
syphilis—Attempts to prepare serums which could strengthen the higher elements of the
organism
Attacks of infectious diseases incurred during life frequently shorten its
duration and it has been observed that most centenarians have enjoyed good
health throughout their lives. Syphilis is the most important of these
diseases. It is not really a cause of death itself, but it predisposes the
organism to the attacks of other diseases, amongst the latter being some
particularly fatal to old people, such as diseases of the heart and blood-
vessels (angina pectoris and aneurism of the aorta) and some malignant
tumours, especially cancer of the tongue and of the mouth. To lengthen
human life, it is a fundamental necessity to avoid infection by syphilis. To
reach this result everything must be done to spread medical knowledge
about such diseases. It is absolutely necessary to overcome the deeply
rooted prejudice in favour of concealing everything relating to sexual
matters. Complete information should be widely spread as to the means of
protecting humanity against this awful scourge. It has now been possible to
apply experimental methods to the investigation of this disease, and science
has obtained a series of results of the highest practical utility. Prof. Neisser
of Breslau, one of the most distinguished of modern venereal physicians,
has summed up the present state of knowledge of these matters in the
following lines.116 “It is our duty as medical men,” he says, “to recommend
strongly as a means of disinfection in all possible cases of contagion the
calomel ointment which Metchnikoff and Roux have advised.” It is to be
hoped that future generations, by following this advice, will see an
enormous diminution in the number of cases of syphilis.
Syphilis, however, although a very important factor, is not alone in
shortening the life of man. A very large number of persons die prematurely
although they have not contracted that disease. We do not know the duration
of human life before the arrival of syphilis in Europe, but there is no reason
to think that it was very different from what it is to-day. We must, therefore,
try to prevent as many infectious diseases as possible, and recent advances
in medicine have made this task much less difficult. Pneumonia, it is true,
the most common infectious disease amongst the old, cannot yet be easily
avoided. All the anti-pneumonic serums which have hitherto been prepared
Page 121
have turned out to have little efficacy; but there is no reason to give up the
hope that this problem will yet be solved.
Diseases of the heart, which are common in extreme old age, are
particularly difficult to avoid, because in most cases we do not know
sufficiently well their primary causes. In so far as they depend upon
intemperance or infectious diseases such as syphilis, they can be avoided by
the employment of suitable measures.
As the higher elements of the body in old people become weaker and are
devoured by the macrophags, it seems probable that the destruction or
deterioration of these voracious cells would tend to the prolongation of life.
However, as the macrophags are indispensable in the struggle against the
microbes of infectious diseases, and particularly of chronic disease, such as
tuberculosis, it is necessary to preserve them. We must turn rather to the
idea of a remedy which could strengthen the higher elements and make
them a less ready prey to the macrophags.
In the “Nature of Man” (Chap. III.) in discussing the simian origin of
mankind, I touched on the existence of animal serums that have the power
of dissolving the blood corpuscles of other species of animals. There is now,
in biological science, a new chapter upon such serums, which have been
called cytotoxic serums because they are able to poison the cells of organs.
The blood and blood serum of some animals act as poisons when they are
introduced into an organism. Eels and snakes, even non-poisonous snakes,
are cases in point. A small quantity of the blood of a snake, an adder for
instance, injected into a mammal (rabbit, guinea-pig, or mouse) soon brings
about death. The blood of some mammals is poisonous to other mammals,
although in a lesser degree than that of snakes. The dog is specially notable
from the fact that its blood is poisonous to other mammals, whilst, on the
other hand, the blood and blood serum of the sheep, goat, and horse have
generally little effect on other animals and on man. It is for this reason that
these animals, and particularly the horse, are used in the preparation of the
serums employed in medicine.
Now, these harmless serums become poisonous when they have been taken
from animals which have been first treated with the blood or the organs of
other species of animals. For instance, the blood serum of a sheep which
has been treated with the blood of a rabbit becomes poisonous because it
hope that this problem will yet be solved.
Diseases of the heart, which are common in extreme old age, are
particularly difficult to avoid, because in most cases we do not know
sufficiently well their primary causes. In so far as they depend upon
intemperance or infectious diseases such as syphilis, they can be avoided by
the employment of suitable measures.
As the higher elements of the body in old people become weaker and are
devoured by the macrophags, it seems probable that the destruction or
deterioration of these voracious cells would tend to the prolongation of life.
However, as the macrophags are indispensable in the struggle against the
microbes of infectious diseases, and particularly of chronic disease, such as
tuberculosis, it is necessary to preserve them. We must turn rather to the
idea of a remedy which could strengthen the higher elements and make
them a less ready prey to the macrophags.
In the “Nature of Man” (Chap. III.) in discussing the simian origin of
mankind, I touched on the existence of animal serums that have the power
of dissolving the blood corpuscles of other species of animals. There is now,
in biological science, a new chapter upon such serums, which have been
called cytotoxic serums because they are able to poison the cells of organs.
The blood and blood serum of some animals act as poisons when they are
introduced into an organism. Eels and snakes, even non-poisonous snakes,
are cases in point. A small quantity of the blood of a snake, an adder for
instance, injected into a mammal (rabbit, guinea-pig, or mouse) soon brings
about death. The blood of some mammals is poisonous to other mammals,
although in a lesser degree than that of snakes. The dog is specially notable
from the fact that its blood is poisonous to other mammals, whilst, on the
other hand, the blood and blood serum of the sheep, goat, and horse have
generally little effect on other animals and on man. It is for this reason that
these animals, and particularly the horse, are used in the preparation of the
serums employed in medicine.
Now, these harmless serums become poisonous when they have been taken
from animals which have been first treated with the blood or the organs of
other species of animals. For instance, the blood serum of a sheep which
has been treated with the blood of a rabbit becomes poisonous because it
Page 122
has acquired the power of dissolving the red blood corpuscles of the rabbit.
It is a poison in the case of the rabbit, but is harmless to most other animals.
The injection of the rabbit’s blood into the sheep has conferred on the sheep
a new property which comes into operation only with regard to the red
blood corpuscles of the rabbit. We have here to do with something
analogous to what has been observed in the cases of serums used to arrest
infectious disease. When the bacilli of diphtheria, or their products, have
been injected into horses, there is produced an anti-diphtheric serum,
capable of curing diphtheria, but powerless against tetanus or plague. After
M. J. M. Bordet of the Pasteur Institute had made his discovery of serums
that had acquired the power of dissolving the red blood corpuscles of other
animals, the attempt was made to prepare similar serums directed against all
the other elements of the body, such as white blood corpuscles, renal and
nervous cells. In the course of these investigations it was proved to be
necessary to employ a certain dose of the serum in order to obtain the
poisonous result. If smaller quantities of the poisonous dose were used, the
reverse effect was produced. Thus a serum, strong doses of which dissolved
the red blood corpuscles and so made them less numerous in the blood,
increased the number of these when given in very small doses.
M. Cantacuzène was the first to establish this fact in the case of the rabbit,
whilst M. Besredka and I myself did it in the case of man.117 Since then M.
Bélonovsky of Cronstadt has confirmed the result on anæmic patients,
treating them with small quantities of serum. He has been able to produce in
them an increase in the number of the red blood corpuscles, and in the
quantity of the red colouring matter (hæmoglobin) in the blood. Later on M.
André118 devoted much attention to this matter at Lyons. He prepared a
serum by injecting human blood into animals and made use of it in the case
of several persons who suffered from anæmia from different causes. In the
case of patients, the anæmic condition of which had hitherto remained
stationary, Dr. André found a sudden increase in the number of red
corpuscles after injecting small doses of the serum. M. Besredka, in the case
of laboratory animals, increased the number of white corpuscles by
injecting them with a small quantity of a serum, strong doses of which
destroyed these cells.
These facts are only a special case of the general rule that small doses of
poisons increase the activity of the elements that are killed by large doses.
It is a poison in the case of the rabbit, but is harmless to most other animals.
The injection of the rabbit’s blood into the sheep has conferred on the sheep
a new property which comes into operation only with regard to the red
blood corpuscles of the rabbit. We have here to do with something
analogous to what has been observed in the cases of serums used to arrest
infectious disease. When the bacilli of diphtheria, or their products, have
been injected into horses, there is produced an anti-diphtheric serum,
capable of curing diphtheria, but powerless against tetanus or plague. After
M. J. M. Bordet of the Pasteur Institute had made his discovery of serums
that had acquired the power of dissolving the red blood corpuscles of other
animals, the attempt was made to prepare similar serums directed against all
the other elements of the body, such as white blood corpuscles, renal and
nervous cells. In the course of these investigations it was proved to be
necessary to employ a certain dose of the serum in order to obtain the
poisonous result. If smaller quantities of the poisonous dose were used, the
reverse effect was produced. Thus a serum, strong doses of which dissolved
the red blood corpuscles and so made them less numerous in the blood,
increased the number of these when given in very small doses.
M. Cantacuzène was the first to establish this fact in the case of the rabbit,
whilst M. Besredka and I myself did it in the case of man.117 Since then M.
Bélonovsky of Cronstadt has confirmed the result on anæmic patients,
treating them with small quantities of serum. He has been able to produce in
them an increase in the number of the red blood corpuscles, and in the
quantity of the red colouring matter (hæmoglobin) in the blood. Later on M.
André118 devoted much attention to this matter at Lyons. He prepared a
serum by injecting human blood into animals and made use of it in the case
of several persons who suffered from anæmia from different causes. In the
case of patients, the anæmic condition of which had hitherto remained
stationary, Dr. André found a sudden increase in the number of red
corpuscles after injecting small doses of the serum. M. Besredka, in the case
of laboratory animals, increased the number of white corpuscles by
injecting them with a small quantity of a serum, strong doses of which
destroyed these cells.
These facts are only a special case of the general rule that small doses of
poisons increase the activity of the elements that are killed by large doses.
Page 123
In order to increase the activity of the heart, medical men give successfully
small doses of cardiac poisons such as digitalis. As a commercial process,
the activity of yeasts is increased by submitting them to weak doses of
substances (fluoride of sodium) which, given in larger quantities, would kill
them.
My general conclusion from these facts is that it is logical to lay down the
principle that the higher elements of our body could be strengthened by
subjecting them to the action of small doses of the appropriate cytotoxic
serums. There is, however, much difficulty in putting this into practice. It is
quite easy to obtain human blood to inject into animals with the object of
preparing a serum which can increase the number of red corpuscles. On the
other hand, it is extremely difficult to get human bodies sufficiently fresh to
use them for a practical purpose. According to law, post mortem
examinations can be made only after an interval of time in course of which
the tissues have changed; besides, the organs obtained in this way are
frequently affected by injuries or diseases militating against their use. Even
in Paris, with its three million inhabitants, it is extremely rare that there is a
good opportunity for the preparation of human cytotoxic serums. In two or
three years, during which Dr. Weinberg has collected the organs from
human bodies fairly fresh, he has been unable to obtain sufficiently active
serums.
The best results have been obtained from new-born infants which have been
killed by some accident in the process of child-birth, as in them the organs
are in a normal state. However, owing to the advance in the practice of
obstetrics, such accidents, already infrequent, are becoming extremely rare.
In such conditions we may have to wait long before getting a positive
result, unless the future will find some method of obtaining the necessary
materials for this difficult and interesting purpose.
As it is so difficult to prepare a remedy which can strengthen the weakened
higher elements of the body, it may be easier to find a means of preventing
the weakening which interferes so much with our desire to live long. As the
products of microbes are the most active agents in deteriorating our tissues,
we must look towards them for the solution of the problem.
small doses of cardiac poisons such as digitalis. As a commercial process,
the activity of yeasts is increased by submitting them to weak doses of
substances (fluoride of sodium) which, given in larger quantities, would kill
them.
My general conclusion from these facts is that it is logical to lay down the
principle that the higher elements of our body could be strengthened by
subjecting them to the action of small doses of the appropriate cytotoxic
serums. There is, however, much difficulty in putting this into practice. It is
quite easy to obtain human blood to inject into animals with the object of
preparing a serum which can increase the number of red corpuscles. On the
other hand, it is extremely difficult to get human bodies sufficiently fresh to
use them for a practical purpose. According to law, post mortem
examinations can be made only after an interval of time in course of which
the tissues have changed; besides, the organs obtained in this way are
frequently affected by injuries or diseases militating against their use. Even
in Paris, with its three million inhabitants, it is extremely rare that there is a
good opportunity for the preparation of human cytotoxic serums. In two or
three years, during which Dr. Weinberg has collected the organs from
human bodies fairly fresh, he has been unable to obtain sufficiently active
serums.
The best results have been obtained from new-born infants which have been
killed by some accident in the process of child-birth, as in them the organs
are in a normal state. However, owing to the advance in the practice of
obstetrics, such accidents, already infrequent, are becoming extremely rare.
In such conditions we may have to wait long before getting a positive
result, unless the future will find some method of obtaining the necessary
materials for this difficult and interesting purpose.
As it is so difficult to prepare a remedy which can strengthen the weakened
higher elements of the body, it may be easier to find a means of preventing
the weakening which interferes so much with our desire to live long. As the
products of microbes are the most active agents in deteriorating our tissues,
we must look towards them for the solution of the problem.
Page 124
IV
INTESTINAL PUTREFACTION SHORTENS LIFE
Uselessness of the large intestine in man—Case of a woman whose large intestine was
inactive for six months—Another case where the greater part of the large intestine was
completely shut off—Attempts to disinfect the contents of the large intestine—Prolonged
mastication as a means of preventing intestinal putrefaction
The general measures of hygiene directed against infectious diseases play a
part in prolonging the lives of old people, but, in addition to the microbes
which invade the body from outside, there is a rich source of harm in the
microbes which inhabit the body. The most important of these belong to the
intestinal flora, which is abundant and varied.
The intestinal microbes are most numerous in the large intestine. This
organ, which is useful to mammals the food of which consists of rough
bulky vegetable matter, and which require a large reservoir for the waste of
the process of digestion, is certainly useless in the case of man.119 In the
“Nature of Man” I have dealt with this question at length, as it was an
important example of what I regard as the disharmonies of the human
constitution. A case upon which I have always laid great stress is that of a
woman who lived for thirty-seven years, although her large intestine was
atrophied and inactive, as this seems to be a remarkable proof of the
uselessness of the organ in the human body. The small size or complete
absence of the large intestine in many vertebrates confirms my conclusion.
None the less, some of my critics think that my argument is incomplete. To
strengthen it, I may call their attention to a medical observation which is as
valuable as if it had been an experiment. It relates to a woman, sixty-two
years old, a patient of Prof. Kocher at Berne. She had been suffering from a
strangulated hernia associated with gangrene of part of the intestine, and
had to be operated upon suddenly.
The gangrenous portion of the ileum having been removed, the healthy part
was implanted in the skin so as to form an artificial aperture through which
waste matter from the food passed to the exterior without traversing the
large intestine. Although the patient was old and seriously ill, the operation,
performed by M. Tavel, was quite successful. Six months later, in a new
operation, the small intestine was rejoined to the large intestine so that the
fæces were again able to pass to the exterior by the natural channel. In this
INTESTINAL PUTREFACTION SHORTENS LIFE
Uselessness of the large intestine in man—Case of a woman whose large intestine was
inactive for six months—Another case where the greater part of the large intestine was
completely shut off—Attempts to disinfect the contents of the large intestine—Prolonged
mastication as a means of preventing intestinal putrefaction
The general measures of hygiene directed against infectious diseases play a
part in prolonging the lives of old people, but, in addition to the microbes
which invade the body from outside, there is a rich source of harm in the
microbes which inhabit the body. The most important of these belong to the
intestinal flora, which is abundant and varied.
The intestinal microbes are most numerous in the large intestine. This
organ, which is useful to mammals the food of which consists of rough
bulky vegetable matter, and which require a large reservoir for the waste of
the process of digestion, is certainly useless in the case of man.119 In the
“Nature of Man” I have dealt with this question at length, as it was an
important example of what I regard as the disharmonies of the human
constitution. A case upon which I have always laid great stress is that of a
woman who lived for thirty-seven years, although her large intestine was
atrophied and inactive, as this seems to be a remarkable proof of the
uselessness of the organ in the human body. The small size or complete
absence of the large intestine in many vertebrates confirms my conclusion.
None the less, some of my critics think that my argument is incomplete. To
strengthen it, I may call their attention to a medical observation which is as
valuable as if it had been an experiment. It relates to a woman, sixty-two
years old, a patient of Prof. Kocher at Berne. She had been suffering from a
strangulated hernia associated with gangrene of part of the intestine, and
had to be operated upon suddenly.
The gangrenous portion of the ileum having been removed, the healthy part
was implanted in the skin so as to form an artificial aperture through which
waste matter from the food passed to the exterior without traversing the
large intestine. Although the patient was old and seriously ill, the operation,
performed by M. Tavel, was quite successful. Six months later, in a new
operation, the small intestine was rejoined to the large intestine so that the
fæces were again able to pass to the exterior by the natural channel. In this
Page 125
case, then, the large intestine was thrown out of use for half a year, not only
without injury to the general health, but with the result that the patient was
completely cured and gained in weight. MM. Macfadyen, Nencki, and Mde.
Sieber120 studied the digestive processes in the small intestine and the
nutritive metabolism, and determined that these were active and healthy, the
absence of intestinal putrefaction, that evil of the constitution, being
specially favourable.
without injury to the general health, but with the result that the patient was
completely cured and gained in weight. MM. Macfadyen, Nencki, and Mde.
Sieber120 studied the digestive processes in the small intestine and the
nutritive metabolism, and determined that these were active and healthy, the
absence of intestinal putrefaction, that evil of the constitution, being
specially favourable.
Page 126
Fig. 19.—Diagram of the lower bowel in a female patient.
A.C.N., Artificial anus: A.S., Insertion of the ileum to the colon.
(After M. Mauclaire.)
Fig. 20.—Diagram of the lower bowel, after a third operation, on
the case in Fig. 19.
(After M. Mauclaire.)
A.C.N., Artificial anus: A.S., Insertion of the ileum to the colon.
(After M. Mauclaire.)
Fig. 20.—Diagram of the lower bowel, after a third operation, on
the case in Fig. 19.
(After M. Mauclaire.)
Page 127
In six months of non-action, the part played by an organ can be
satisfactorily estimated. M. Mauclaire,121 however, has put on record a case
the history of which was longer. In 1902 he operated on a young woman
and produced an artificial anus, there being no escape of fæcal matter by the
ordinary channel. Ten months later M. Mauclaire operated a second time
and shut off a portion of the intestine. He left the artificial anus, but cut
across the lower end of the small intestine and inserted it near the iliac end
of the descending colon (Fig. 19). For several days after the operation the
fæces were passed by the normal aperture, as the small intestine now
communicated directly with the large intestine, near the rectum. This
condition, however, did not persist, for the fæcal matter began to flow back
through the excluded portion of the large intestine, so reaching the artificial
anus, and causing inconvenience. Giving up the hope that this would cease,
M. Mauclaire performed a third operation twenty months later. He cut
across the large intestine near the point where the small intestine had been
artificially led into it (Fig. 20), so dividing the digestive tube into two parts,
one of which remained in communication with the natural anus, whilst the
other, consisting of nearly the whole of the large intestine, communicated
with the exterior by the artificial anus. In the new state of affairs, the food
refuse passed directly into the terminal portion of the large intestine, and
thence, by way of the rectum, to the exterior through the normal anus
without being able to pass up the large intestine towards the artificial anus.
In this last operation about a yard of the small intestine and the greater part
of the large intestine, the cæcum, and ascending, transverse and descending
colons were removed from activity.
By the kindness of M. Mauclaire, I have been able to watch his patient
during the last four years. I satisfied myself that after the supposed
exclusion of the large intestine, food dejecta ascended the colon and
emerged by the artificial anus. There was such an accumulation of waste in
the large intestine that fragments did not emerge until three weeks after the
meal of which they had formed part. It was only after the final operation,
that in which the large intestine was separated, that the dejecta escaped only
by the natural anus, whilst a little mucus containing microbes was passed
through the artificial aperture. Even three years after the operation, mucus
continued to escape by the latter aperture, it being shown thus that after the
large intestine had ceased to be a channel for the fæces, its walls continued
to secrete although otherwise it had lost its function completely.
satisfactorily estimated. M. Mauclaire,121 however, has put on record a case
the history of which was longer. In 1902 he operated on a young woman
and produced an artificial anus, there being no escape of fæcal matter by the
ordinary channel. Ten months later M. Mauclaire operated a second time
and shut off a portion of the intestine. He left the artificial anus, but cut
across the lower end of the small intestine and inserted it near the iliac end
of the descending colon (Fig. 19). For several days after the operation the
fæces were passed by the normal aperture, as the small intestine now
communicated directly with the large intestine, near the rectum. This
condition, however, did not persist, for the fæcal matter began to flow back
through the excluded portion of the large intestine, so reaching the artificial
anus, and causing inconvenience. Giving up the hope that this would cease,
M. Mauclaire performed a third operation twenty months later. He cut
across the large intestine near the point where the small intestine had been
artificially led into it (Fig. 20), so dividing the digestive tube into two parts,
one of which remained in communication with the natural anus, whilst the
other, consisting of nearly the whole of the large intestine, communicated
with the exterior by the artificial anus. In the new state of affairs, the food
refuse passed directly into the terminal portion of the large intestine, and
thence, by way of the rectum, to the exterior through the normal anus
without being able to pass up the large intestine towards the artificial anus.
In this last operation about a yard of the small intestine and the greater part
of the large intestine, the cæcum, and ascending, transverse and descending
colons were removed from activity.
By the kindness of M. Mauclaire, I have been able to watch his patient
during the last four years. I satisfied myself that after the supposed
exclusion of the large intestine, food dejecta ascended the colon and
emerged by the artificial anus. There was such an accumulation of waste in
the large intestine that fragments did not emerge until three weeks after the
meal of which they had formed part. It was only after the final operation,
that in which the large intestine was separated, that the dejecta escaped only
by the natural anus, whilst a little mucus containing microbes was passed
through the artificial aperture. Even three years after the operation, mucus
continued to escape by the latter aperture, it being shown thus that after the
large intestine had ceased to be a channel for the fæces, its walls continued
to secrete although otherwise it had lost its function completely.
Page 128
Nevertheless the condition of this patient improved and she lived perfectly
well without a functional large intestine. She takes food well but has to go
to stool three or four times a day and has a tendency to diarrhœa. The
excreta are smooth and often nearly liquid, especially after fruit has been
eaten.
The case I have been describing, and which I am still keeping under
observation, demonstrates once more the uselessness of the human large
intestine; it should convert the most sceptical critic. But it also shows that
the suppression of nearly the entire large intestine for several years does not
completely get rid of the intestinal flora. Even without this evidence,
however, I do not suggest that removal of the large intestine can be thought
of as a means to prevent the pernicious effect of the intestinal flora.
Is it possible, without operative interference, to take direct action against
the intestinal flora by the use of antiseptics? Consideration of this is already
ancient history. When the theory that the intestine was a source of auto-
intoxication was propounded, M. Bouchard122 made the attempt to cure
such cases by disinfecting the digestive tube with [Greek: b]-naphthol. He
found, however, that that antiseptic, like many others, not only did not
completely disinfect the intestine but sometimes had a harmful effect on the
body.
M. Stern123 has shown, in an elaborate memoir, that such antiseptics as
calomel, salol, [Greek: b]-naphthol, naphthaline, and camphor, when
administered in quantities compatible with health, do not disinfect the
digestive tube at all. More recently M. Strasburger124 has shown that when
naphthaline has been given in quantities sufficient to impart its odour to the
fæces, the intestinal microbes, so far from being diminished, are even
increased in numbers. On the other hand, after meals consisting of milk to
which there has been added an antiseptic in the proportion of a quarter of a
gram to the litre, the intestinal microbes are really reduced in number.
Strasburger obtained his best results with tanocol. Two persons who used,
according to this method, three to six grams of tanacol per day, displayed a
notable reduction in quantity of the intestinal flora.
Strasburger’s conclusion was that “the attempt to destroy the intestinal
microbes by the use of chemical agents has little chance of success.” It
cannot be denied that under special circumstances it is possible to decrease
well without a functional large intestine. She takes food well but has to go
to stool three or four times a day and has a tendency to diarrhœa. The
excreta are smooth and often nearly liquid, especially after fruit has been
eaten.
The case I have been describing, and which I am still keeping under
observation, demonstrates once more the uselessness of the human large
intestine; it should convert the most sceptical critic. But it also shows that
the suppression of nearly the entire large intestine for several years does not
completely get rid of the intestinal flora. Even without this evidence,
however, I do not suggest that removal of the large intestine can be thought
of as a means to prevent the pernicious effect of the intestinal flora.
Is it possible, without operative interference, to take direct action against
the intestinal flora by the use of antiseptics? Consideration of this is already
ancient history. When the theory that the intestine was a source of auto-
intoxication was propounded, M. Bouchard122 made the attempt to cure
such cases by disinfecting the digestive tube with [Greek: b]-naphthol. He
found, however, that that antiseptic, like many others, not only did not
completely disinfect the intestine but sometimes had a harmful effect on the
body.
M. Stern123 has shown, in an elaborate memoir, that such antiseptics as
calomel, salol, [Greek: b]-naphthol, naphthaline, and camphor, when
administered in quantities compatible with health, do not disinfect the
digestive tube at all. More recently M. Strasburger124 has shown that when
naphthaline has been given in quantities sufficient to impart its odour to the
fæces, the intestinal microbes, so far from being diminished, are even
increased in numbers. On the other hand, after meals consisting of milk to
which there has been added an antiseptic in the proportion of a quarter of a
gram to the litre, the intestinal microbes are really reduced in number.
Strasburger obtained his best results with tanocol. Two persons who used,
according to this method, three to six grams of tanacol per day, displayed a
notable reduction in quantity of the intestinal flora.
Strasburger’s conclusion was that “the attempt to destroy the intestinal
microbes by the use of chemical agents has little chance of success.” It
cannot be denied that under special circumstances it is possible to decrease
Page 129
the number of microbes, especially in the small intestine. But this result is
small and may be followed by the contrary effect, for the natural means of
defence of the intestine against microbes are weakened, and the intestine
itself may be harmed more than the microbes.
Strasburger, moreover, is no convinced advocate of the use of purgatives.
The diminution of the sulpho-conjugate ethers in the urine, which certainly
may follow the use of purgatives, does not necessarily indicate reduced
putrefaction in the intestine, but may point only to a lessened absorption of
the bacterial products. Such an interpretation is supported by an observed
fact; in the case of a dog belonging to Strasburger, which had a fistula of the
small intestine, the diarrhœa induced by calomel was accompanied by an
indubitable increase in the total quantity of intestinal microbes.
Strasburger thinks that the most favourable results can be obtained by
aiding the intestine in the discharge of its normal function. If it can be
brought to digest the food more completely, there is the less pabulum left
for the microbes. A similar result can be reached by lowering the amount of
food taken, and to this course the beneficial effects of starvation in acute
diseases of the intestine may be attributed.
The general conclusion, reached after many experiments on the disinfection
of the intestine, is unfavourable. Very little is to be expected from the
method. None the less I cannot regard the matter as definitely settled.
Cohendy has investigated the effect on the intestinal flora of thymol which
was administered in several cases with the object of destroying parasites.
From nine to twelve grammes of thymol were administered to each patient
in the space of three days, and there was a notable antiseptic effect,
Cohendy believing that the quantity of microbes had been reduced to a
thirteenth.
Such facts prove only that the antiseptic treatment is available up to a
certain point. To attain the results, however, such large quantities must be
used that the treatment can be applied only in special cases and at long
intervals. More use can be made of simple purgatives which do not kill the
microbes but eliminate them by the normal channel. It has been urged
repeatedly that calomel, which is often used as a purgative, acts also as an
intestinal antiseptic; but it is probable that its influence in reducing the
intestinal flora is merely mechanical. It has been shown that calomel, like
small and may be followed by the contrary effect, for the natural means of
defence of the intestine against microbes are weakened, and the intestine
itself may be harmed more than the microbes.
Strasburger, moreover, is no convinced advocate of the use of purgatives.
The diminution of the sulpho-conjugate ethers in the urine, which certainly
may follow the use of purgatives, does not necessarily indicate reduced
putrefaction in the intestine, but may point only to a lessened absorption of
the bacterial products. Such an interpretation is supported by an observed
fact; in the case of a dog belonging to Strasburger, which had a fistula of the
small intestine, the diarrhœa induced by calomel was accompanied by an
indubitable increase in the total quantity of intestinal microbes.
Strasburger thinks that the most favourable results can be obtained by
aiding the intestine in the discharge of its normal function. If it can be
brought to digest the food more completely, there is the less pabulum left
for the microbes. A similar result can be reached by lowering the amount of
food taken, and to this course the beneficial effects of starvation in acute
diseases of the intestine may be attributed.
The general conclusion, reached after many experiments on the disinfection
of the intestine, is unfavourable. Very little is to be expected from the
method. None the less I cannot regard the matter as definitely settled.
Cohendy has investigated the effect on the intestinal flora of thymol which
was administered in several cases with the object of destroying parasites.
From nine to twelve grammes of thymol were administered to each patient
in the space of three days, and there was a notable antiseptic effect,
Cohendy believing that the quantity of microbes had been reduced to a
thirteenth.
Such facts prove only that the antiseptic treatment is available up to a
certain point. To attain the results, however, such large quantities must be
used that the treatment can be applied only in special cases and at long
intervals. More use can be made of simple purgatives which do not kill the
microbes but eliminate them by the normal channel. It has been urged
repeatedly that calomel, which is often used as a purgative, acts also as an
intestinal antiseptic; but it is probable that its influence in reducing the
intestinal flora is merely mechanical. It has been shown that calomel, like
Page 130
some other purgatives, lessens intestinal putrefaction, the evidence being
the decrease in the sulpho-conjugate ethers in the urine. But although the
diarrhœa induced by purgatives generally has such a result, spontaneous
diarrhœas such as those of typhoid fever and of intestinal tuberculosis are
associated with increased putrefaction.125
It is clear, however these matters may be settled, that regular activity of the
bowels, increased by the occasional use of purgatives, must diminish the
formation of intestinal poisons, and therefore also the damage done by these
to the higher elements of the body.
When I asked the relatives of Mde. Robineau if they could tell me of any
special circumstance which in their opinion had contributed to the extreme
duration of the life of this old lady, they replied as follows:—“We are
convinced that a slight bodily derangement, present for the last fifty years,
has tended to prolong the life of the old lady. It cannot be said that she has
suffered from diarrhœa, but she has been often subject to frequent calls of
nature.” It was most remarkable that the old lady showed no traces of
sclerosis of the arteries. I may mention the strongly contrasting case of one
of my old colleagues to whom a natural desire to empty the bowels came
only once a week. A more frequent call was a sign of illness in his case.
Now sclerosis of the arteries appeared in so marked a form that he died
from it before he had reached the age of fifty years. This may be added to
the list of facts which point to a close association between sclerosis of the
arteries and the functions of the digestive tube.
Recently, at the suggestion of Mr. Fletcher,126 the advantage of eating
extremely slowly has been recognised, the object being to prepare for the
utilisation of the food materials, and to prevent intestinal putrefaction.
Certainly the habit of eating quickly favours the multiplication of microbes
round about the lumps of food which have been swallowed without
sufficient mastication. It is quite harmful, however, to chew the food too
long, and to swallow it only after it has been kept in the mouth for a
considerable time. Too complete a use of the food material causes want of
tone in the intestinal wall, from which as much harm may come as from
imperfect mastication. In America, where Fletcher’s theory took its origin,
there has already been described under the name of “Bradyfagy” a disease
arising from the habit of eating too slowly. Dr. Einhorn,127 a well-known
the decrease in the sulpho-conjugate ethers in the urine. But although the
diarrhœa induced by purgatives generally has such a result, spontaneous
diarrhœas such as those of typhoid fever and of intestinal tuberculosis are
associated with increased putrefaction.125
It is clear, however these matters may be settled, that regular activity of the
bowels, increased by the occasional use of purgatives, must diminish the
formation of intestinal poisons, and therefore also the damage done by these
to the higher elements of the body.
When I asked the relatives of Mde. Robineau if they could tell me of any
special circumstance which in their opinion had contributed to the extreme
duration of the life of this old lady, they replied as follows:—“We are
convinced that a slight bodily derangement, present for the last fifty years,
has tended to prolong the life of the old lady. It cannot be said that she has
suffered from diarrhœa, but she has been often subject to frequent calls of
nature.” It was most remarkable that the old lady showed no traces of
sclerosis of the arteries. I may mention the strongly contrasting case of one
of my old colleagues to whom a natural desire to empty the bowels came
only once a week. A more frequent call was a sign of illness in his case.
Now sclerosis of the arteries appeared in so marked a form that he died
from it before he had reached the age of fifty years. This may be added to
the list of facts which point to a close association between sclerosis of the
arteries and the functions of the digestive tube.
Recently, at the suggestion of Mr. Fletcher,126 the advantage of eating
extremely slowly has been recognised, the object being to prepare for the
utilisation of the food materials, and to prevent intestinal putrefaction.
Certainly the habit of eating quickly favours the multiplication of microbes
round about the lumps of food which have been swallowed without
sufficient mastication. It is quite harmful, however, to chew the food too
long, and to swallow it only after it has been kept in the mouth for a
considerable time. Too complete a use of the food material causes want of
tone in the intestinal wall, from which as much harm may come as from
imperfect mastication. In America, where Fletcher’s theory took its origin,
there has already been described under the name of “Bradyfagy” a disease
arising from the habit of eating too slowly. Dr. Einhorn,127 a well-known
Page 131
specialist in the diseases of the digestive system, has found that several
cases of this disease were rapidly cured when the patients made up their
minds to eat more quickly again. Comparative physiology supplies us with
arguments against too prolonged mastication. Ruminants, which carry out
to the fullest extent Mr. Fletcher’s plan, are notable for extreme intestinal
putrefaction and for the short duration of their lives. On the other hand,
birds and reptiles, which have a very poor mechanism for breaking up food,
enjoy much longer lives.
Prolonged mastication, then, cannot be recommended as a preventative of
intestinal putrefaction any more than the surgical removal of the large
intestine or the disinfection of the digestive tube. The field lies open for
other means which may probably solve the problem more completely and
more practically.
V
LACTIC ACID AS INHIBITING INTESTINAL PUTREFACTION
The development of the intestinal flora in man—Harmlessness of sterilised food—Means
of preventing the putrefaction of food—Lactic fermentation and its anti-putrescent action
—Experiments on man and mice—Longevity in races which use soured milk—
Comparative study of different soured milks—Properties of the Bulgarian Bacillus—
Means of preventing intestinal putrefaction with the help of microbes
At birth the human intestine is full, but contains no microbes. Microbes
very soon appear in it, because the meconium, the contents of the intestines
of new-born children, composed of bile and cast-off intestinal mucus cells,
is an excellent culture medium for them. In the first hours after birth,
microbes begin to reach the intestine. In the first day, before the child has
taken any food whatever, there is to be found in the meconium a varied
flora, composed of several species of microbes. Under the influence of the
mother’s milk this flora is reduced and comes to be composed almost
entirely of a special microbe described by M. Tissier and called by him
Bacillus bifidus.
cases of this disease were rapidly cured when the patients made up their
minds to eat more quickly again. Comparative physiology supplies us with
arguments against too prolonged mastication. Ruminants, which carry out
to the fullest extent Mr. Fletcher’s plan, are notable for extreme intestinal
putrefaction and for the short duration of their lives. On the other hand,
birds and reptiles, which have a very poor mechanism for breaking up food,
enjoy much longer lives.
Prolonged mastication, then, cannot be recommended as a preventative of
intestinal putrefaction any more than the surgical removal of the large
intestine or the disinfection of the digestive tube. The field lies open for
other means which may probably solve the problem more completely and
more practically.
V
LACTIC ACID AS INHIBITING INTESTINAL PUTREFACTION
The development of the intestinal flora in man—Harmlessness of sterilised food—Means
of preventing the putrefaction of food—Lactic fermentation and its anti-putrescent action
—Experiments on man and mice—Longevity in races which use soured milk—
Comparative study of different soured milks—Properties of the Bulgarian Bacillus—
Means of preventing intestinal putrefaction with the help of microbes
At birth the human intestine is full, but contains no microbes. Microbes
very soon appear in it, because the meconium, the contents of the intestines
of new-born children, composed of bile and cast-off intestinal mucus cells,
is an excellent culture medium for them. In the first hours after birth,
microbes begin to reach the intestine. In the first day, before the child has
taken any food whatever, there is to be found in the meconium a varied
flora, composed of several species of microbes. Under the influence of the
mother’s milk this flora is reduced and comes to be composed almost
entirely of a special microbe described by M. Tissier and called by him
Bacillus bifidus.
Page 132
The food, therefore, has an influence on the microbes of the intestine. If the
child be fed with cow’s milk, the flora is richer in species than in the case of
a child suckled by its mother. Later on, also, the flora varies with the food,
as has been proved by MM. Macfadyen, Nencki, and Mde. Sieber in the
case of a woman with an intestinal fistula. The dependence of the intestinal
microbes on the food makes it possible to adopt measures to modify the
flora in our bodies and to replace the harmful microbes by useful microbes.
Unfortunately, our actual knowledge of the intestinal flora is still very
imperfect because of the impossibility of finding artificial media in which it
could be grown. Notwithstanding this difficulty, however, a rational
solution of the problem must be sought.
Man, even in the savage condition, prepares his food before eating it. He
submits much of it to the action of fire, thus notably lessening the number
of microbes. Microbes enter the digestive tube in vast numbers with raw
food, and in order to lessen the number of species in the intestines, it is
important to eat only cooked food and to drink only liquids that have been
previously boiled. In that way, although we cannot destroy all the microbes
in the food, because some of them can withstand the temperature of the
boiling point of water, we can kill the great majority of them.
It has sometimes been supposed that cooked or completely sterilised food
(that is to say food that has been subjected to a temperature of from
248°-284° Fahr.) is harmful to the organism and that much of it is not well
digested. From this point of view protests have been made against the
feeding of infants with sterilised milk or even with boiled milk. Although in
certain cases sterilised milk is not well supported by infants, it cannot be
doubted but that boiled milk and cooked food are generally successful. The
large number of children brought up successfully on boiled cow’s milk and
the health of travellers in arctic regions are ample proof of this. I have been
told by M. Charcot that in his voyage to the antarctic regions, he and his
companions lived entirely on sterilised food, or on cooked food such as the
flesh of seals and penguins. As they had no green food nor fresh fruit, the
only raw food that they ate was a little cheese. Living under these
conditions, all the members of the expedition enjoyed good health, and
there was no case of digestive disturbance in the whole period of sixteen
months.
child be fed with cow’s milk, the flora is richer in species than in the case of
a child suckled by its mother. Later on, also, the flora varies with the food,
as has been proved by MM. Macfadyen, Nencki, and Mde. Sieber in the
case of a woman with an intestinal fistula. The dependence of the intestinal
microbes on the food makes it possible to adopt measures to modify the
flora in our bodies and to replace the harmful microbes by useful microbes.
Unfortunately, our actual knowledge of the intestinal flora is still very
imperfect because of the impossibility of finding artificial media in which it
could be grown. Notwithstanding this difficulty, however, a rational
solution of the problem must be sought.
Man, even in the savage condition, prepares his food before eating it. He
submits much of it to the action of fire, thus notably lessening the number
of microbes. Microbes enter the digestive tube in vast numbers with raw
food, and in order to lessen the number of species in the intestines, it is
important to eat only cooked food and to drink only liquids that have been
previously boiled. In that way, although we cannot destroy all the microbes
in the food, because some of them can withstand the temperature of the
boiling point of water, we can kill the great majority of them.
It has sometimes been supposed that cooked or completely sterilised food
(that is to say food that has been subjected to a temperature of from
248°-284° Fahr.) is harmful to the organism and that much of it is not well
digested. From this point of view protests have been made against the
feeding of infants with sterilised milk or even with boiled milk. Although in
certain cases sterilised milk is not well supported by infants, it cannot be
doubted but that boiled milk and cooked food are generally successful. The
large number of children brought up successfully on boiled cow’s milk and
the health of travellers in arctic regions are ample proof of this. I have been
told by M. Charcot that in his voyage to the antarctic regions, he and his
companions lived entirely on sterilised food, or on cooked food such as the
flesh of seals and penguins. As they had no green food nor fresh fruit, the
only raw food that they ate was a little cheese. Living under these
conditions, all the members of the expedition enjoyed good health, and
there was no case of digestive disturbance in the whole period of sixteen
months.
Page 133
It is obvious that abstaining from raw food, and so reducing largely the
entrance of new microbes, by no means causes the disappearance of the
intestinal flora already existing. We must reckon with that and with the evil
that it does by weakening the higher cells of the tissues. As the part of the
flora that does most damage consists of microbes which cause putrefaction
of the contents of the intestine and harmful fermentations, particularly
butyric fermentation, it is against these that our efforts must be directed.
Long before the science of bacteriology was in existence, men had turned
their attention to methods of preventing putrefaction. Food, especially if it
be kept in a warm place or in a moist atmosphere, soon begins to putrefy
and to become unpleasant to the taste and dangerous to the health. Everyone
has known cases of poisoning from putrid flesh or other food material.
Foà,128 the explorer of Central Africa, has related that once, when they were
starving, he and his men came on the putrefying body of an elephant. The
negroes rushed to lay hold of the carrion, but Foà tried to dissuade them,
explaining that to eat flesh in such a state was as bad as taking poison. All
did not listen to him, and three negroes, who had taken pieces of the body,
swallowed them before they had been properly cooked. All three died in a
few days, with the neck and throat swollen, the tongue almost paralysed,
and the abdomen inflated.
In another case, sausages made of putrid horse flesh caused an epidemic at
Rohrsdorf, in Prussia, in 1885.129 About forty people fell ill after having
eaten the sausages, which, according to witnesses, were green in colour,
smelt badly, and had a revolting appearance. One person died, whilst the
others recovered after cholera-like symptoms. It is true that all putrefying
food does not produce the same effect. MM. Tissier and Martelly130 found
no digestive trouble after having eaten food that was quite putrid. Everyone
knows that the Chinese prepare a dish particularly pleasant to gourmets by
allowing eggs to putrefy. Some decaying cheeses are harmful to the health,
but others can be eaten with impunity. The reason of this is that whilst
putrefying food may contain microbes and dangerous toxins, it does not
contain them in all cases. On the other hand, we must take into account the
different susceptibilities of people to the harmful action of microbes and
their products. Some can swallow without any evil result a quantity of
microbes which in the case of other individuals would produce a fatal attack
entrance of new microbes, by no means causes the disappearance of the
intestinal flora already existing. We must reckon with that and with the evil
that it does by weakening the higher cells of the tissues. As the part of the
flora that does most damage consists of microbes which cause putrefaction
of the contents of the intestine and harmful fermentations, particularly
butyric fermentation, it is against these that our efforts must be directed.
Long before the science of bacteriology was in existence, men had turned
their attention to methods of preventing putrefaction. Food, especially if it
be kept in a warm place or in a moist atmosphere, soon begins to putrefy
and to become unpleasant to the taste and dangerous to the health. Everyone
has known cases of poisoning from putrid flesh or other food material.
Foà,128 the explorer of Central Africa, has related that once, when they were
starving, he and his men came on the putrefying body of an elephant. The
negroes rushed to lay hold of the carrion, but Foà tried to dissuade them,
explaining that to eat flesh in such a state was as bad as taking poison. All
did not listen to him, and three negroes, who had taken pieces of the body,
swallowed them before they had been properly cooked. All three died in a
few days, with the neck and throat swollen, the tongue almost paralysed,
and the abdomen inflated.
In another case, sausages made of putrid horse flesh caused an epidemic at
Rohrsdorf, in Prussia, in 1885.129 About forty people fell ill after having
eaten the sausages, which, according to witnesses, were green in colour,
smelt badly, and had a revolting appearance. One person died, whilst the
others recovered after cholera-like symptoms. It is true that all putrefying
food does not produce the same effect. MM. Tissier and Martelly130 found
no digestive trouble after having eaten food that was quite putrid. Everyone
knows that the Chinese prepare a dish particularly pleasant to gourmets by
allowing eggs to putrefy. Some decaying cheeses are harmful to the health,
but others can be eaten with impunity. The reason of this is that whilst
putrefying food may contain microbes and dangerous toxins, it does not
contain them in all cases. On the other hand, we must take into account the
different susceptibilities of people to the harmful action of microbes and
their products. Some can swallow without any evil result a quantity of
microbes which in the case of other individuals would produce a fatal attack
Page 134
of cholera. Everything depends upon the resistance offered to the microbes
by the invaded organism.
Experiments on animals fed on putrefying food have also given varied
results. Some animals eat it without any harm resulting, others have attacks
of vomiting and show such a repugnance that it is impossible to continue
the experiment.
Not only flesh and other animal substances, but vegetables can undergo
putrefaction and fermentation (butyric) which make it dangerous to eat
them. Many accidents have occurred in man as the result of deteriorated
preserved fruit. Vegetables, preserved in silos to feed cattle, sometimes go
wrong. “If, for instance, rainy days come after sunny days, so that the
uncovered fodder is wetted again, the resulting ensilage is poor and has an
extremely unpleasant butyric odour, so that the animals turn from it.”
Sometimes the fodder grows black in the silo, and acquires a special smell.
“The animals will take it only in the absence of other food; their excreta
become black, and if they are kept on such a diet for a time they waste in a
marked manner.”131
In popular practice, the value of acids for preserving animal and vegetable
food and for preventing putrefaction has long been recognised. Meats of all
kinds, fish and vegetables have been “marinated” with vinegar, as the acetic
acid in that substance, the product of bacteria, wards off putrefaction. If the
materials which it is desired to preserve give off acids themselves, the
addition of vinegar may be unnecessary. For this reason some animal
products such as milk, or vegetables rich in sugar become acid
spontaneously and so can be preserved. Soured milk can be made into many
kinds of cheese, and these last for longer or shorter times. Many vegetables
can undergo a natural process of souring, when they “keep” without
difficulty. Thus cabbage becomes “sauerkraut” and beetroot and cucumbers
pass into an acid state. In many countries, as for instance in Russia, the use
of acidified vegetables is of great importance in the food-supply of the
populace. Fresh fruit and vegetables cannot be obtained in the long winters,
during which the people consume large quantities of cucumbers, melons,
apples, and other fruits which have undergone an acid fermentation in
which lactic acid is the chief product. During summer, milk, which acidifies
readily, is the chief source of acid materials for consumption. The chief
beverage is “kwass,” of which black bread is the main ingredient, and this
by the invaded organism.
Experiments on animals fed on putrefying food have also given varied
results. Some animals eat it without any harm resulting, others have attacks
of vomiting and show such a repugnance that it is impossible to continue
the experiment.
Not only flesh and other animal substances, but vegetables can undergo
putrefaction and fermentation (butyric) which make it dangerous to eat
them. Many accidents have occurred in man as the result of deteriorated
preserved fruit. Vegetables, preserved in silos to feed cattle, sometimes go
wrong. “If, for instance, rainy days come after sunny days, so that the
uncovered fodder is wetted again, the resulting ensilage is poor and has an
extremely unpleasant butyric odour, so that the animals turn from it.”
Sometimes the fodder grows black in the silo, and acquires a special smell.
“The animals will take it only in the absence of other food; their excreta
become black, and if they are kept on such a diet for a time they waste in a
marked manner.”131
In popular practice, the value of acids for preserving animal and vegetable
food and for preventing putrefaction has long been recognised. Meats of all
kinds, fish and vegetables have been “marinated” with vinegar, as the acetic
acid in that substance, the product of bacteria, wards off putrefaction. If the
materials which it is desired to preserve give off acids themselves, the
addition of vinegar may be unnecessary. For this reason some animal
products such as milk, or vegetables rich in sugar become acid
spontaneously and so can be preserved. Soured milk can be made into many
kinds of cheese, and these last for longer or shorter times. Many vegetables
can undergo a natural process of souring, when they “keep” without
difficulty. Thus cabbage becomes “sauerkraut” and beetroot and cucumbers
pass into an acid state. In many countries, as for instance in Russia, the use
of acidified vegetables is of great importance in the food-supply of the
populace. Fresh fruit and vegetables cannot be obtained in the long winters,
during which the people consume large quantities of cucumbers, melons,
apples, and other fruits which have undergone an acid fermentation in
which lactic acid is the chief product. During summer, milk, which acidifies
readily, is the chief source of acid materials for consumption. The chief
beverage is “kwass,” of which black bread is the main ingredient, and this
Page 135
passes through not only an alcoholic fermentation, but an acidifying change
in which lactic acid is the most important product.
Rye bread, the chief food of the populace, is also a product of fermentations
amongst which the lactic acid fermentation is most important, but in other
kinds of bread also there is a fermentation in which some of the sugar is
transformed to lactic acid.
Soured milk, because of the lactic acid in it, can impede the putrefaction of
meat. In certain countries, accordingly, meat is preserved in acid skimmed
milk with the result that putrefaction is prevented. Lactic acid fermentation
is equally important in the food supply of cattle. It is the chief agent that, in
the process of preserving vegetation in silos, hinders putrefaction. Finally,
the same fermentation serves in distilleries to preserve the must from which
alcohol is prepared.
This short review is in itself enough to show the great importance of lactic
fermentation as a means of stopping putrefaction and butyric fermentation,
both of which hinder the preservation of organic substances and are capable
of exciting disturbances in the organism.
As lactic fermentation serves so well to arrest putrefaction in general, why
should it not be used for the same purpose within the digestive tube?
It is a matter of common knowledge that putrefaction and butyric
fermentation are arrested in the presence of sugar. Whereas meat preserved
without special care soon putrefies, milk in exactly the same conditions
does not putrefy, but becomes sour, the reason being that meat is poor in
sugar whereas milk contains a good deal of it. However, the scientific
explanation of this fundamental fact is difficult. It has been shown
conclusively that sugar itself cannot prevent putrefaction. Milk, for
instance, however rich in sugar it may be, readily putrefies in certain
conditions. Sugar preserves organic matter from putrefaction only because
it can readily undergo lactic fermentation, and this fermentation is the work
of the microbes described fifty years ago by Pasteur. That great discovery
proved the part played by microbes in fermentation and founded
bacteriology, a science equally rich in theory and in practice.
I need not pause to develop the theme that the anti-putrescent action of the
lactic fermentation depends on the production of lactic acid by microbes,
in which lactic acid is the most important product.
Rye bread, the chief food of the populace, is also a product of fermentations
amongst which the lactic acid fermentation is most important, but in other
kinds of bread also there is a fermentation in which some of the sugar is
transformed to lactic acid.
Soured milk, because of the lactic acid in it, can impede the putrefaction of
meat. In certain countries, accordingly, meat is preserved in acid skimmed
milk with the result that putrefaction is prevented. Lactic acid fermentation
is equally important in the food supply of cattle. It is the chief agent that, in
the process of preserving vegetation in silos, hinders putrefaction. Finally,
the same fermentation serves in distilleries to preserve the must from which
alcohol is prepared.
This short review is in itself enough to show the great importance of lactic
fermentation as a means of stopping putrefaction and butyric fermentation,
both of which hinder the preservation of organic substances and are capable
of exciting disturbances in the organism.
As lactic fermentation serves so well to arrest putrefaction in general, why
should it not be used for the same purpose within the digestive tube?
It is a matter of common knowledge that putrefaction and butyric
fermentation are arrested in the presence of sugar. Whereas meat preserved
without special care soon putrefies, milk in exactly the same conditions
does not putrefy, but becomes sour, the reason being that meat is poor in
sugar whereas milk contains a good deal of it. However, the scientific
explanation of this fundamental fact is difficult. It has been shown
conclusively that sugar itself cannot prevent putrefaction. Milk, for
instance, however rich in sugar it may be, readily putrefies in certain
conditions. Sugar preserves organic matter from putrefaction only because
it can readily undergo lactic fermentation, and this fermentation is the work
of the microbes described fifty years ago by Pasteur. That great discovery
proved the part played by microbes in fermentation and founded
bacteriology, a science equally rich in theory and in practice.
I need not pause to develop the theme that the anti-putrescent action of the
lactic fermentation depends on the production of lactic acid by microbes,
Page 136
because I have explained the matter at length in the tenth chapter of the
“Nature of Man.” If the lactic acid be neutralised, the organic matter soon
putrefies, notwithstanding the presence of the lactic microbes. The most
important point is as to whether lactic fermentation really arrests intestinal
putrefaction. Several sets of observations have been made upon this matter.
Dr. Herter,132 of New York, injected directly into the small intestine of a
number of dogs quantities of different microbes. To test the action of these
on intestinal putrefaction, he investigated the sulpho-conjugate ethers in the
urine, as he believed, in accordance with current and well justified opinion,
that these substances are the best proofs of the existence of putrefaction. He
found that whilst the introduction of quantities of Bacillus coli or Bacillus
proteus increased the intestinal putrefaction, lactic bacilli notably lessened
it. Herter found a notable diminution of sulpho-conjugate ethers in the urine
of dogs which had been treated with the lactic microbes.
The experiments which Dr. M. Cohendy133 performed upon himself during
a period of nearly six months are still more interesting.
When Dr. Cohendy had proved that much intestinal putrefaction occurred
during a period of 25 days, in which he lived on an ordinary mixed diet, he
began to take pure cultures of lactic bacillus, taken from yahourth. In a
period of 74 days, he took quantities varying from 280 to 350 grams of the
culture.
Analysis of the urine during the progress of the experiment showed that
intestinal putrefaction had notably decreased whilst the lactic bacilli were
being taken, and that the diminution persisted seven weeks after the taking
of the bacilli ceased. Dr. Cohendy gives it as the direct result of his
experiment that the introduction of lactic ferment into the intestine
definitely arrests putrefaction. He obtained this result on a diet consisting of
400 grams of soup, 150 of meat, 700 of grain-food, 400 of green vegetables,
300 of fruits and dessert and a litre of water. He came to the conclusion that
the elimination of meat from the diet was unnecessary, as the particular kind
of lactic ferment he employed was extremely active in inhibiting the
proteolytic ferments.
Later experiments made by Dr. Cohendy showed that the lactic bacillus
became so acclimatised in the human intestine that it was to be found there
several weeks after it had been swallowed.
“Nature of Man.” If the lactic acid be neutralised, the organic matter soon
putrefies, notwithstanding the presence of the lactic microbes. The most
important point is as to whether lactic fermentation really arrests intestinal
putrefaction. Several sets of observations have been made upon this matter.
Dr. Herter,132 of New York, injected directly into the small intestine of a
number of dogs quantities of different microbes. To test the action of these
on intestinal putrefaction, he investigated the sulpho-conjugate ethers in the
urine, as he believed, in accordance with current and well justified opinion,
that these substances are the best proofs of the existence of putrefaction. He
found that whilst the introduction of quantities of Bacillus coli or Bacillus
proteus increased the intestinal putrefaction, lactic bacilli notably lessened
it. Herter found a notable diminution of sulpho-conjugate ethers in the urine
of dogs which had been treated with the lactic microbes.
The experiments which Dr. M. Cohendy133 performed upon himself during
a period of nearly six months are still more interesting.
When Dr. Cohendy had proved that much intestinal putrefaction occurred
during a period of 25 days, in which he lived on an ordinary mixed diet, he
began to take pure cultures of lactic bacillus, taken from yahourth. In a
period of 74 days, he took quantities varying from 280 to 350 grams of the
culture.
Analysis of the urine during the progress of the experiment showed that
intestinal putrefaction had notably decreased whilst the lactic bacilli were
being taken, and that the diminution persisted seven weeks after the taking
of the bacilli ceased. Dr. Cohendy gives it as the direct result of his
experiment that the introduction of lactic ferment into the intestine
definitely arrests putrefaction. He obtained this result on a diet consisting of
400 grams of soup, 150 of meat, 700 of grain-food, 400 of green vegetables,
300 of fruits and dessert and a litre of water. He came to the conclusion that
the elimination of meat from the diet was unnecessary, as the particular kind
of lactic ferment he employed was extremely active in inhibiting the
proteolytic ferments.
Later experiments made by Dr. Cohendy showed that the lactic bacillus
became so acclimatised in the human intestine that it was to be found there
several weeks after it had been swallowed.
Page 137
Dr. Pochon, assistant to Professor Combe134 at Lausanne, has repeated on
himself the experiments of Cohendy. He took for several weeks milk
curdled with pure cultures of lactic acid microbes and obtained “results that
were quite definite as to intestinal putrefaction.” Analysis of his urine
showed that there was a marked diminution of indol and phenol, substances
which are certain indexes of intestinal putrefaction.
In addition to such observations on lactic bacilli there is a good deal of
knowledge as to the effect of lactic acid taken in bulk. The result of the
various observations135 shows that the acid lessens intestinal putrefaction
and lowers the quantity of sulpho-conjugate ethers in the urine. This fact
explains why favourable results follow the use of lactic acid in many
intestinal diseases such as infantile diarrhœa, tuberculous enteritis and even
Asiatic cholera. The addition of this remedy to practical therapeutics is due
chiefly to Professor Hayem. It is employed not only in the treatment of
diseases of the digestive system (dyspepsia, enteritis and colitis), but is
indicated also in diabetes and is used locally in tuberculous ulcerations of
the larynx. As quantities up to twelve grams can be given by the mouth
daily, it is plain that the system is tolerant of this acid. It is either oxidised
in the tissues or excreted with the urine. In the case of a diabetic woman
who had taken 80 grams of lactic acid in four days, Nencki and Sieber136
found no traces of it in the urine. On the other hand, Stadelmann137 found a
notable quantity of the acid in another diabetic patient who had been taking
over four grams daily.
The general interpretation of the benefits gained from the use of lactic acid
ferments is that they depend solely on the action of the lactic acid which
they produce in preventing the multiplication of the microbes which cause
putrefaction. Recent investigations made by Dr. Bélonowsky, at the Pasteur
Institute, show that a lactic ferment isolated from yahourth and described as
the Bulgarian bacillus owes its antiseptic powers not only to lactic acid but
to another substance which it secretes. Dr. Bélonowsky has studied the
effects of this bacillus upon mice, by adding to their previously sterilised
food quantities of this lactic microbe. As control experiments he fed other
mice on food to which lactic acid had been added in quantities
corresponding to the quantity produced by the Bulgarian bacillus, or which
had been mixed with other kinds of bacilli. Another set of mice were given
normal food without the addition of either microbes or lactic acid.
himself the experiments of Cohendy. He took for several weeks milk
curdled with pure cultures of lactic acid microbes and obtained “results that
were quite definite as to intestinal putrefaction.” Analysis of his urine
showed that there was a marked diminution of indol and phenol, substances
which are certain indexes of intestinal putrefaction.
In addition to such observations on lactic bacilli there is a good deal of
knowledge as to the effect of lactic acid taken in bulk. The result of the
various observations135 shows that the acid lessens intestinal putrefaction
and lowers the quantity of sulpho-conjugate ethers in the urine. This fact
explains why favourable results follow the use of lactic acid in many
intestinal diseases such as infantile diarrhœa, tuberculous enteritis and even
Asiatic cholera. The addition of this remedy to practical therapeutics is due
chiefly to Professor Hayem. It is employed not only in the treatment of
diseases of the digestive system (dyspepsia, enteritis and colitis), but is
indicated also in diabetes and is used locally in tuberculous ulcerations of
the larynx. As quantities up to twelve grams can be given by the mouth
daily, it is plain that the system is tolerant of this acid. It is either oxidised
in the tissues or excreted with the urine. In the case of a diabetic woman
who had taken 80 grams of lactic acid in four days, Nencki and Sieber136
found no traces of it in the urine. On the other hand, Stadelmann137 found a
notable quantity of the acid in another diabetic patient who had been taking
over four grams daily.
The general interpretation of the benefits gained from the use of lactic acid
ferments is that they depend solely on the action of the lactic acid which
they produce in preventing the multiplication of the microbes which cause
putrefaction. Recent investigations made by Dr. Bélonowsky, at the Pasteur
Institute, show that a lactic ferment isolated from yahourth and described as
the Bulgarian bacillus owes its antiseptic powers not only to lactic acid but
to another substance which it secretes. Dr. Bélonowsky has studied the
effects of this bacillus upon mice, by adding to their previously sterilised
food quantities of this lactic microbe. As control experiments he fed other
mice on food to which lactic acid had been added in quantities
corresponding to the quantity produced by the Bulgarian bacillus, or which
had been mixed with other kinds of bacilli. Another set of mice were given
normal food without the addition of either microbes or lactic acid.
Page 138
Out of these groups of mice, those which had been given the Bulgarian
bacillus thrived best and had most progeny. Their droppings showed fewest
microbes, particularly microbes of putrefaction.
The next stage in Dr. Bélonowsky’s experiments was to feed mice not with
living quantities of the Bulgarian bacillus, but with cultures which had been
sterilised by heat (120°-140° Fahr.). These mice lived as well as those to
which living cultures had been supplied, and notably better than those
supplied with pure lactic acid. It is evident therefore that there is some other
product of this bacillus which favours life by preventing intestinal
putrefaction.
Dr. Bélonowsky showed, moreover, that the Bulgarian bacillus cures a
special intestinal disease known as mouse typhus.
The experiments which I have described show that intestinal putrefaction is
to be combated not by lactic acid itself, but by the introduction into the
organism of cultures of the lactic bacilli. The latter become acclimatised in
the human digestive tube as they find there the sugary material required for
their subsistence, and by producing disinfecting bodies benefit the organism
which supports them.
From time immemorial human beings have absorbed quantities of lactic
microbes by consuming in the uncooked condition substances such as
soured milk, kephir, sauerkraut, or salted cucumbers which have undergone
lactic fermentation. By these means they have unknowingly lessened the
evil consequences of intestinal putrefaction. In the Bible soured milk is
frequently spoken of. When Abraham entertained the three angels he set
before them soured milk and sweet milk and the calf which he had dressed
(Genesis xviii. 8). In his fifth book, Moses enumerates amongst the food
which Jehovah had given his people to eat “Soured milk of kine and goat’s
milk, with fat of lambs and rams of the breed of Bashan, and goats with the
fat of kidneys” (Deut. xxxii. 14).138
A food known as “Leben raib,” which is a soured milk, prepared from the
milk of buffaloes, kine or goats, has been used in Egypt from the remotest
antiquity. A similar preparation known as “yahourth” is familiar to the
populations of the Balkan Peninsula. The natives of Algiers make a kind of
“leben” not identical with the Egyptian form.
bacillus thrived best and had most progeny. Their droppings showed fewest
microbes, particularly microbes of putrefaction.
The next stage in Dr. Bélonowsky’s experiments was to feed mice not with
living quantities of the Bulgarian bacillus, but with cultures which had been
sterilised by heat (120°-140° Fahr.). These mice lived as well as those to
which living cultures had been supplied, and notably better than those
supplied with pure lactic acid. It is evident therefore that there is some other
product of this bacillus which favours life by preventing intestinal
putrefaction.
Dr. Bélonowsky showed, moreover, that the Bulgarian bacillus cures a
special intestinal disease known as mouse typhus.
The experiments which I have described show that intestinal putrefaction is
to be combated not by lactic acid itself, but by the introduction into the
organism of cultures of the lactic bacilli. The latter become acclimatised in
the human digestive tube as they find there the sugary material required for
their subsistence, and by producing disinfecting bodies benefit the organism
which supports them.
From time immemorial human beings have absorbed quantities of lactic
microbes by consuming in the uncooked condition substances such as
soured milk, kephir, sauerkraut, or salted cucumbers which have undergone
lactic fermentation. By these means they have unknowingly lessened the
evil consequences of intestinal putrefaction. In the Bible soured milk is
frequently spoken of. When Abraham entertained the three angels he set
before them soured milk and sweet milk and the calf which he had dressed
(Genesis xviii. 8). In his fifth book, Moses enumerates amongst the food
which Jehovah had given his people to eat “Soured milk of kine and goat’s
milk, with fat of lambs and rams of the breed of Bashan, and goats with the
fat of kidneys” (Deut. xxxii. 14).138
A food known as “Leben raib,” which is a soured milk, prepared from the
milk of buffaloes, kine or goats, has been used in Egypt from the remotest
antiquity. A similar preparation known as “yahourth” is familiar to the
populations of the Balkan Peninsula. The natives of Algiers make a kind of
“leben” not identical with the Egyptian form.
Page 139
Soured milk is consumed in great quantities in Russia in two forms,
“prostokwacha,” which is raw milk spontaneously coagulated and soured,
and “varenetz,” which is boiled milk soured with a yeast.
The chief food of many natives of tropical Africa consists of soured milk.
The staple diet of the Mpeseni is “a curdled milk, almost solidified.” “Meat
is eaten only on ceremonial occasions.” According to Foà, a tribe of the
Nyassa-Tanganyika plateau, like the Zulus, take milk only in the form of a
raw cheese mixed with salt and pepper.
Dr. Lima of Mossamedes, in West Africa, has told me that the natives of
many regions south of Angola live almost entirely on milk. They employ
the cream as an ointment for the skin, whilst the milk, soured and curdled,
is their staple food. M. Nogueira reported the same circumstances nearly
fifty years ago after his journey in the province of Angola.
Just as cheeses vary in different countries, so curdled milk varies slightly
according to the nature of the flora of microbes. Taking all the soured milks
that are produced by natural processes, it may be said that the greater
number of them contain not only microbes that produce lactic acid, but also
yeasts that cause alcoholic fermentations. Kephir, which is prepared from
the milk of kine, and koumiss, which is a product of mares’ milk, are
notably alcoholic. Koumiss is the well-known national beverage of the
Kirghises, Tartars and Kulmucks, nomads of Asiatic Russia who are famous
horse breeders, whilst kephir is the native drink of the mountaineers of the
Caucasus, the Ossetes, and some other tribes.
It has been supposed that the chief merit of kephir was that it was more easy
to digest than milk, as some of its casein is dissolved in the process of
fermentation. Kephir, in fact, was supposed to be partly digested milk. This
view has not been confirmed. Professor Hayem thinks that the good effects
of kephir are due to the presence of lactic acid which replaces the acid of
the stomach and has an antiseptic effect. The experiments of M. Rovighi,
which I spoke of in The Nature of Man, have confirmed the latter fact,
which now may be taken as certain. The action of kephir in preventing
intestinal putrefaction depends on the lactic acid bacilli which it contains.
Kephir, although in some cases certainly beneficial, cannot be
recommended for the prolonged use necessary if intestinal putrefaction is to
be overcome. It is produced by combined lactic and alcoholic
“prostokwacha,” which is raw milk spontaneously coagulated and soured,
and “varenetz,” which is boiled milk soured with a yeast.
The chief food of many natives of tropical Africa consists of soured milk.
The staple diet of the Mpeseni is “a curdled milk, almost solidified.” “Meat
is eaten only on ceremonial occasions.” According to Foà, a tribe of the
Nyassa-Tanganyika plateau, like the Zulus, take milk only in the form of a
raw cheese mixed with salt and pepper.
Dr. Lima of Mossamedes, in West Africa, has told me that the natives of
many regions south of Angola live almost entirely on milk. They employ
the cream as an ointment for the skin, whilst the milk, soured and curdled,
is their staple food. M. Nogueira reported the same circumstances nearly
fifty years ago after his journey in the province of Angola.
Just as cheeses vary in different countries, so curdled milk varies slightly
according to the nature of the flora of microbes. Taking all the soured milks
that are produced by natural processes, it may be said that the greater
number of them contain not only microbes that produce lactic acid, but also
yeasts that cause alcoholic fermentations. Kephir, which is prepared from
the milk of kine, and koumiss, which is a product of mares’ milk, are
notably alcoholic. Koumiss is the well-known national beverage of the
Kirghises, Tartars and Kulmucks, nomads of Asiatic Russia who are famous
horse breeders, whilst kephir is the native drink of the mountaineers of the
Caucasus, the Ossetes, and some other tribes.
It has been supposed that the chief merit of kephir was that it was more easy
to digest than milk, as some of its casein is dissolved in the process of
fermentation. Kephir, in fact, was supposed to be partly digested milk. This
view has not been confirmed. Professor Hayem thinks that the good effects
of kephir are due to the presence of lactic acid which replaces the acid of
the stomach and has an antiseptic effect. The experiments of M. Rovighi,
which I spoke of in The Nature of Man, have confirmed the latter fact,
which now may be taken as certain. The action of kephir in preventing
intestinal putrefaction depends on the lactic acid bacilli which it contains.
Kephir, although in some cases certainly beneficial, cannot be
recommended for the prolonged use necessary if intestinal putrefaction is to
be overcome. It is produced by combined lactic and alcoholic
Page 140
fermentations, and as it contains up to one per cent. of alcohol, its use as a
food for years would involve the absorption of considerable quantities of
alcohol. The yeasts which produce it can be acclimatised in the human
digestive tract, in which, however, they are harmful, as they are favourable
to the germs of infectious diseases such as the bacillus of typhoid fever, and
the vibrio of Asiatic cholera.
Kephir has also the disadvantage that its flora varies considerably and is not
well known. There has been little success in producing it by pure cultures as
would be necessary were it to be brought into general use. When it is
prepared from a dried remnant there is the risk of stray microbes being
included, and these may bring about pernicious fermentations. Professor
Hayem prohibits its use in the case of persons in whom food is retained for
long in the stomach. “When it is retained in the stomach, kephir goes on
fermenting, and there are developed in the contents butyric and acetic acids
which aggravate the digestive disturbances.”139
As it is the lactic and not the alcoholic fermentation on which the valuable
properties of kephir depend, it is correct to replace it by soured milk that
contains either no alcohol or merely the smallest traces of it.
The fact that so many races make soured milk and use it copiously is an
excellent testimony to its usefulness. M. Nogueira has written to me to say
how much he was astonished, on revisiting after a long period of absence
the district of Mossamedes, to find the natives so well preserved and
displaying so few traces of senility. Dr. Lima has stated that amongst the
natives of the region south of Angola “many individuals of extraordinary
longevity are to be found.” Although they are thin and withered, these old
people are very active and can make long journeys.
Mr. Wales, a lawyer at Binghampton, U.S.A., has been so good as to make
me acquainted with some extremely interesting facts taken from a work by
James Riley which is now a bibliographical rarity.140 In the narrative of a
shipwreck of the vessel on which he made a voyage in 1815, James Riley
states that the wandering Arabs of the desert live almost wholly on the milk
of camels, fresh or soured.
On this diet they enjoy excellent health, display great vigour and reach
advanced ages. Riley estimated that some of the old men must have lived
for two to three hundred years. No doubt these figures are much too high,
food for years would involve the absorption of considerable quantities of
alcohol. The yeasts which produce it can be acclimatised in the human
digestive tract, in which, however, they are harmful, as they are favourable
to the germs of infectious diseases such as the bacillus of typhoid fever, and
the vibrio of Asiatic cholera.
Kephir has also the disadvantage that its flora varies considerably and is not
well known. There has been little success in producing it by pure cultures as
would be necessary were it to be brought into general use. When it is
prepared from a dried remnant there is the risk of stray microbes being
included, and these may bring about pernicious fermentations. Professor
Hayem prohibits its use in the case of persons in whom food is retained for
long in the stomach. “When it is retained in the stomach, kephir goes on
fermenting, and there are developed in the contents butyric and acetic acids
which aggravate the digestive disturbances.”139
As it is the lactic and not the alcoholic fermentation on which the valuable
properties of kephir depend, it is correct to replace it by soured milk that
contains either no alcohol or merely the smallest traces of it.
The fact that so many races make soured milk and use it copiously is an
excellent testimony to its usefulness. M. Nogueira has written to me to say
how much he was astonished, on revisiting after a long period of absence
the district of Mossamedes, to find the natives so well preserved and
displaying so few traces of senility. Dr. Lima has stated that amongst the
natives of the region south of Angola “many individuals of extraordinary
longevity are to be found.” Although they are thin and withered, these old
people are very active and can make long journeys.
Mr. Wales, a lawyer at Binghampton, U.S.A., has been so good as to make
me acquainted with some extremely interesting facts taken from a work by
James Riley which is now a bibliographical rarity.140 In the narrative of a
shipwreck of the vessel on which he made a voyage in 1815, James Riley
states that the wandering Arabs of the desert live almost wholly on the milk
of camels, fresh or soured.
On this diet they enjoy excellent health, display great vigour and reach
advanced ages. Riley estimated that some of the old men must have lived
for two to three hundred years. No doubt these figures are much too high,
Page 141
but it is probable that the Arabs Riley encountered lived really unusually
long.
Mr. Wales has examined Riley’s work critically, and is of the opinion that
that author was a well-informed, sagacious and conscientious observer.
M. Grigoroff, a Bulgarian student at Geneva, has been surprised by the
number of centenarians to be found in Bulgaria, a region in which yahourth,
a soured milk, is the stable food. Some of the centenarians, described by M.
Chemin in his memoir, lived chiefly on a milk diet. Marie Priou, for
example, who died in the Haute-Garonne in 1838 at the age of 158 years,
had lived for the last ten years of her life entirely on cheese and goat’s milk
(op. cit. p. 100). Ambroise Jantet, a labourer of Verdun, who died in 1751 at
the age of 111 years, “ate nothing but unleavened bread and drank nothing
but skimmed milk” (p. 133). Nicole Marc, who died aged 110 years, at the
chateau of Colemberg (Pas-de-Calais), a hunch-back and cripple, “lived
only on bread and milk-food. It was only towards the end of her life and
after much persuasion that she took a little wine” (Chemin, p. 139).
I owe to the kindness of M. Simine, an engineer in the Caucasus, the
following communication, taken from the newspaper Tiflissky Listok, Oct.
8th, 1904. “In the village of Sba, in the district of Gori, there is an old
Ossete woman, Thense Abalva, whose age is supposed to be about 180
years (?). This woman is still quite capable and looks after her household
duties and sews. Although she is bent, she walks firmly enough. Thense has
never taken alcoholic liquors. She rises early in the morning, and her chief
food is barley bread and butter milk, taken after the churning of the cream.
Butter milk is a liquid containing very many lactic microbes.
Mrs. Jenny Read, an American, has written to me that her father, eighty-
four years old, “owes his health to the curdled milk which he has taken for
the last 40 years.”
Curdled milk and the other products of milk to which I have referred are the
work of the lactic microbes which produce lactic acid at the expense of milk
sugar. As many different kinds of soured milk have been consumed on a
vast scale and have proved to be useful, it might be supposed that any of
them is suitable for regular consumption with the object of preventing
intestinal putrefaction.
long.
Mr. Wales has examined Riley’s work critically, and is of the opinion that
that author was a well-informed, sagacious and conscientious observer.
M. Grigoroff, a Bulgarian student at Geneva, has been surprised by the
number of centenarians to be found in Bulgaria, a region in which yahourth,
a soured milk, is the stable food. Some of the centenarians, described by M.
Chemin in his memoir, lived chiefly on a milk diet. Marie Priou, for
example, who died in the Haute-Garonne in 1838 at the age of 158 years,
had lived for the last ten years of her life entirely on cheese and goat’s milk
(op. cit. p. 100). Ambroise Jantet, a labourer of Verdun, who died in 1751 at
the age of 111 years, “ate nothing but unleavened bread and drank nothing
but skimmed milk” (p. 133). Nicole Marc, who died aged 110 years, at the
chateau of Colemberg (Pas-de-Calais), a hunch-back and cripple, “lived
only on bread and milk-food. It was only towards the end of her life and
after much persuasion that she took a little wine” (Chemin, p. 139).
I owe to the kindness of M. Simine, an engineer in the Caucasus, the
following communication, taken from the newspaper Tiflissky Listok, Oct.
8th, 1904. “In the village of Sba, in the district of Gori, there is an old
Ossete woman, Thense Abalva, whose age is supposed to be about 180
years (?). This woman is still quite capable and looks after her household
duties and sews. Although she is bent, she walks firmly enough. Thense has
never taken alcoholic liquors. She rises early in the morning, and her chief
food is barley bread and butter milk, taken after the churning of the cream.
Butter milk is a liquid containing very many lactic microbes.
Mrs. Jenny Read, an American, has written to me that her father, eighty-
four years old, “owes his health to the curdled milk which he has taken for
the last 40 years.”
Curdled milk and the other products of milk to which I have referred are the
work of the lactic microbes which produce lactic acid at the expense of milk
sugar. As many different kinds of soured milk have been consumed on a
vast scale and have proved to be useful, it might be supposed that any of
them is suitable for regular consumption with the object of preventing
intestinal putrefaction.
Page 142
From the point of view of flavour I find that soured milk, prepared from
raw milk, is much the more agreeable. However, when a food is to be
selected for consumption during a long period of time, we must keep
hygiene strictly in view. It is certain, therefore, that the Russian
“prostokwacha,” as well as any other soured raw milk, must be rejected.
Raw milk contains a large assortment of microbes, and frequently some of
these are harmful. The bacillus of bovine tuberculosis, as well as other
pernicious microbes, may be found in it. According to the investigations of
Heim141 the vibrios of Asiatic cholera, when placed in raw milk, survive
even when the milk has become quite soured. In similar conditions the
bacillus of typhoid fever remains alive for 35 days and dies only after it has
been kept for 48 days in completely soured milk.
As raw milk nearly always contains traces of fæcal matter from the cow, it
sometimes happens that pernicious microbes are introduced from that
source, and remain alive notwithstanding the acid coagulation of the milk.
The lactic microbes certainly prevent the multiplication of other microbes,
as, for instance, those of putrefaction, but are incapable of destroying them.
Moreover, raw milk often contains fungi (yeasts, torulas, and oïdia) the
presence of which is favourable to the development of such pernicious
microbes as the cholera vibrio and the bacillus of typhoid fever.
Prolonged consumption of raw milk increases the risk of introducing
dangerous microbes into the organism, and this possibility drives me to
recommend soured milk prepared after heating. Theoretically, it would be
best to sterilise the milk completely so that all the contained microbes
would be destroyed. This, however, requires heating the milk to a
temperature of from 226° to 248° Fahr., by which it acquires an unpleasant
flavour. On the other hand, the pasteurising of milk at a temperature of
about 140° Fahr. is not sufficient to get rid entirely of the bacilli of
tuberculosis and the spores of the butyric bacilli. We have, therefore, to fall
back on a middle course, and be content with boiling the milk for several
minutes. By so doing we certainly kill the tubercle bacilli and the spores of
some of the butyric bacilli,142 there being left only some butyric spores and
the spores of Bacillus subtilis, to destroy which a much higher temperature
is necessary.
As some kinds of soured milk, such as “varenetz,” “yahourth,” “leben,”
etc., are prepared from boiled milk, it might be supposed that they fulfil the
raw milk, is much the more agreeable. However, when a food is to be
selected for consumption during a long period of time, we must keep
hygiene strictly in view. It is certain, therefore, that the Russian
“prostokwacha,” as well as any other soured raw milk, must be rejected.
Raw milk contains a large assortment of microbes, and frequently some of
these are harmful. The bacillus of bovine tuberculosis, as well as other
pernicious microbes, may be found in it. According to the investigations of
Heim141 the vibrios of Asiatic cholera, when placed in raw milk, survive
even when the milk has become quite soured. In similar conditions the
bacillus of typhoid fever remains alive for 35 days and dies only after it has
been kept for 48 days in completely soured milk.
As raw milk nearly always contains traces of fæcal matter from the cow, it
sometimes happens that pernicious microbes are introduced from that
source, and remain alive notwithstanding the acid coagulation of the milk.
The lactic microbes certainly prevent the multiplication of other microbes,
as, for instance, those of putrefaction, but are incapable of destroying them.
Moreover, raw milk often contains fungi (yeasts, torulas, and oïdia) the
presence of which is favourable to the development of such pernicious
microbes as the cholera vibrio and the bacillus of typhoid fever.
Prolonged consumption of raw milk increases the risk of introducing
dangerous microbes into the organism, and this possibility drives me to
recommend soured milk prepared after heating. Theoretically, it would be
best to sterilise the milk completely so that all the contained microbes
would be destroyed. This, however, requires heating the milk to a
temperature of from 226° to 248° Fahr., by which it acquires an unpleasant
flavour. On the other hand, the pasteurising of milk at a temperature of
about 140° Fahr. is not sufficient to get rid entirely of the bacilli of
tuberculosis and the spores of the butyric bacilli. We have, therefore, to fall
back on a middle course, and be content with boiling the milk for several
minutes. By so doing we certainly kill the tubercle bacilli and the spores of
some of the butyric bacilli,142 there being left only some butyric spores and
the spores of Bacillus subtilis, to destroy which a much higher temperature
is necessary.
As some kinds of soured milk, such as “varenetz,” “yahourth,” “leben,”
etc., are prepared from boiled milk, it might be supposed that they fulfil the
Page 143
conditions necessary for prolonged use. A closer examination, however,
makes us reject them.
Boiled milk, to make it undergo the lactic fermentation properly, must have
added to it a prepared ferment. What is necessary is not merely rennet, as
was formerly supposed, but a number of organised ferments, that is to say,
microbes. In the preparation of these soured milks, a leaven is employed,
one of the names of which is “Maya,” and which contains not only lactic
microbes, but several others. MM. Rist and Khoury143 have come to the
conclusion that the Egyptian “leben” contained a flora composed of five
species, three of which are bacteria and two yeasts. The bacteria produce
lactic acid and the yeasts alcohol. Although the result is that “leben” is a
nearly solid substance, whilst kephir is a liquid, the two are closely similar.
In both cases we have to do with coincident lactic and alcoholic
fermentations, and my remarks regarding kephir apply equally well to the
Egyptian “leben.”
Through the agency of Prof. Massol of Geneva, I have obtained a specimen
of the Bulgarian “yahourth.” Working with his pupil, M. Grigoroff, M.
Massol144 has isolated several microbes from this milk, amongst these
being a very active lactic bacillus. The same soured milk has been studied
in my laboratory by Drs. M. Cohendy145 and Michelson. They found in it a
very powerful lactic ferment, which has been named the Bulgarian bacillus.
This was the microbe employed in the experiments of M. Bélonowsky, to
which I have already referred. More recently, it has been carefully
investigated from the chemical point of view by MM. G. Bertrand and
Weisweiler146 at the Pasteur Institute. It proved to be an extremely active
producer of lactic acid, supplying 25 grammes per litre of milk. The other
acids which this bacillus produces, such as succinic and acetic acids, are
formed only in very small quantities (about 50 centigrams a litre). Formic
acid is produced only in traces. On the other hand, the Bulgarian bacillus
forms neither alcohol nor acetone, two frequent products of bacterial
fermentation. The bacillus also differs from other lactic ferments inasmuch
as it has no action on albuminoids (casein, etc.), nor on fats. All these
qualities make the Bulgarian bacillus much the most useful of the microbes
which can be acclimatised in the digestive tube for the purpose of arresting
putrefactions and pernicious fermentations, such as the butyric
fermentation.
makes us reject them.
Boiled milk, to make it undergo the lactic fermentation properly, must have
added to it a prepared ferment. What is necessary is not merely rennet, as
was formerly supposed, but a number of organised ferments, that is to say,
microbes. In the preparation of these soured milks, a leaven is employed,
one of the names of which is “Maya,” and which contains not only lactic
microbes, but several others. MM. Rist and Khoury143 have come to the
conclusion that the Egyptian “leben” contained a flora composed of five
species, three of which are bacteria and two yeasts. The bacteria produce
lactic acid and the yeasts alcohol. Although the result is that “leben” is a
nearly solid substance, whilst kephir is a liquid, the two are closely similar.
In both cases we have to do with coincident lactic and alcoholic
fermentations, and my remarks regarding kephir apply equally well to the
Egyptian “leben.”
Through the agency of Prof. Massol of Geneva, I have obtained a specimen
of the Bulgarian “yahourth.” Working with his pupil, M. Grigoroff, M.
Massol144 has isolated several microbes from this milk, amongst these
being a very active lactic bacillus. The same soured milk has been studied
in my laboratory by Drs. M. Cohendy145 and Michelson. They found in it a
very powerful lactic ferment, which has been named the Bulgarian bacillus.
This was the microbe employed in the experiments of M. Bélonowsky, to
which I have already referred. More recently, it has been carefully
investigated from the chemical point of view by MM. G. Bertrand and
Weisweiler146 at the Pasteur Institute. It proved to be an extremely active
producer of lactic acid, supplying 25 grammes per litre of milk. The other
acids which this bacillus produces, such as succinic and acetic acids, are
formed only in very small quantities (about 50 centigrams a litre). Formic
acid is produced only in traces. On the other hand, the Bulgarian bacillus
forms neither alcohol nor acetone, two frequent products of bacterial
fermentation. The bacillus also differs from other lactic ferments inasmuch
as it has no action on albuminoids (casein, etc.), nor on fats. All these
qualities make the Bulgarian bacillus much the most useful of the microbes
which can be acclimatised in the digestive tube for the purpose of arresting
putrefactions and pernicious fermentations, such as the butyric
fermentation.
Page 144
As in all the known soured milks (yahourth, leben, prostokwacha, kephir,
and koumiss) the lactic bacilli are associated with a rich flora in which
pernicious microbes may be met (such as the red torula, a microbe which
predisposes to cholera and typhoid fever, which I found in the leaven of
yahourth, bought in Paris), it is necessary to work out a method by which
good curdled milk can be produced with the aid of pure cultures of the
lactic microbes.
It was the obvious course to begin with the Bulgarian bacillus, as that is
known to be the best producer of lactic acid. It coagulates milk rapidly,
giving it a strongly acid flavour, but it often also gives a disagreeable taste
of tallow. It is true that after it has been kept for a long time in the
laboratory in the form of pure cultures in sterilised milk, the bacillus loses
to a large extent its power of saponifying fats, the taste of the curdled milk
being then more agreeable. If necessary, therefore, soured milk prepared
exclusively with the Bulgarian bacillus can be used. In practice, however, it
is useful to associate with it another lactic microbe, known as the paralactic
bacillus, as the latter, although producing less lactic acid than the Bulgarian
bacillus, does not break up the fats and gives the curdled milk a very
pleasant flavour.
As it is undesirable to absorb too much fatty matter, it is necessary to
prepare curdled milk for regular use from skimmed milk. After the milk has
been boiled and rapidly cooled, pure cultures of the lactic microbes are
sown in it, in sufficient quantities to prevent the germination of spores
already in the milk and not destroyed in the process of boiling. The
fermentation lasts a number of hours, varying according to the temperature,
and finally produces a sour curdled milk, pleasant to the taste and active in
preventing intestinal putrefaction. This milk, taken daily in quantities of
from 300 to 500 cubic centimetres, controls the action of the intestine, and
stimulates the kidneys favourably.147 It can therefore be recommended in
many cases of disorder of the digestive apparatus, of the kidneys, and in
several skin diseases.
The Bulgarian bacillus taken from yahourth or from soured milk, prepared
from pure cultures of lactic microbes, can live in warm temperatures, and,
as has been shown by Dr. Cohendy, is able to take its place in the intestinal
flora of man.
and koumiss) the lactic bacilli are associated with a rich flora in which
pernicious microbes may be met (such as the red torula, a microbe which
predisposes to cholera and typhoid fever, which I found in the leaven of
yahourth, bought in Paris), it is necessary to work out a method by which
good curdled milk can be produced with the aid of pure cultures of the
lactic microbes.
It was the obvious course to begin with the Bulgarian bacillus, as that is
known to be the best producer of lactic acid. It coagulates milk rapidly,
giving it a strongly acid flavour, but it often also gives a disagreeable taste
of tallow. It is true that after it has been kept for a long time in the
laboratory in the form of pure cultures in sterilised milk, the bacillus loses
to a large extent its power of saponifying fats, the taste of the curdled milk
being then more agreeable. If necessary, therefore, soured milk prepared
exclusively with the Bulgarian bacillus can be used. In practice, however, it
is useful to associate with it another lactic microbe, known as the paralactic
bacillus, as the latter, although producing less lactic acid than the Bulgarian
bacillus, does not break up the fats and gives the curdled milk a very
pleasant flavour.
As it is undesirable to absorb too much fatty matter, it is necessary to
prepare curdled milk for regular use from skimmed milk. After the milk has
been boiled and rapidly cooled, pure cultures of the lactic microbes are
sown in it, in sufficient quantities to prevent the germination of spores
already in the milk and not destroyed in the process of boiling. The
fermentation lasts a number of hours, varying according to the temperature,
and finally produces a sour curdled milk, pleasant to the taste and active in
preventing intestinal putrefaction. This milk, taken daily in quantities of
from 300 to 500 cubic centimetres, controls the action of the intestine, and
stimulates the kidneys favourably.147 It can therefore be recommended in
many cases of disorder of the digestive apparatus, of the kidneys, and in
several skin diseases.
The Bulgarian bacillus taken from yahourth or from soured milk, prepared
from pure cultures of lactic microbes, can live in warm temperatures, and,
as has been shown by Dr. Cohendy, is able to take its place in the intestinal
flora of man.
Page 145
Soured milk, prepared according to the receipt which I have given, has been
analysed by M. Fouard, an assistant at the Pasteur Institute. When it was
ready to be taken, M. Fouard found in it about 10 grammes of lactic acid
per litre. Moreover, a large proportion (nearly 38 per cent.) of the casein
had been rendered soluble during the fermentation, which shows that its
albuminous matter is prepared for digestion much as in kephir. Of the
phosphate of lime (which is the chief mineral substance of milk) 68 per
cent. was rendered soluble during the fermentation. These facts all confirm
the utility of the soured milk prepared from pure cultures of lactic bacteria.
Those persons who, from some reason or other, cannot take milk, may
swallow the bacilli in a pure culture without milk. However, as the
microbes need sugar to produce lactic acid, it is necessary to take with them
a certain quantity of sweet food (jam, sweet-meats, and especially beetroot).
The Bulgarian bacillus produces lactic acid not only from milk sugar, but
also from many other sugars, for instance, cane sugar, maltose, levulose and
especially glucose.
Cultures of the bacillus can be made not only in milk, but in vegetable
broths, or broths of animal peptone to which sugar has been added. The
cultures can be taken in a dry form (powders or tabloids), or in the liquid in
which the bacilli had themselves been developed.
A reader who has little knowledge of such matters may be surprised by my
recommendation to absorb large quantities of microbes, as the general
belief is that microbes are all harmful. This belief, however, is erroneous.
There are many useful microbes, amongst which the lactic bacilli have an
honourable place. Moreover, the attempt has already been made to cure
certain diseases by the administration of cultures of bacteria. M.
Brudzinsky148 has used cultures of lactic microbes in certain intestinal
diseases of infants, whilst Dr. Tissier149 has used them in similar affections
of infants and adults.
From the general point of view of this book, the course recommended
consists of the absorption either of soured milk prepared by a group of
lactic bacteria, or of pure cultures of the Bulgarian bacillus, but in each case
taking at the same time a certain quantity of milk sugar or saccharose.
analysed by M. Fouard, an assistant at the Pasteur Institute. When it was
ready to be taken, M. Fouard found in it about 10 grammes of lactic acid
per litre. Moreover, a large proportion (nearly 38 per cent.) of the casein
had been rendered soluble during the fermentation, which shows that its
albuminous matter is prepared for digestion much as in kephir. Of the
phosphate of lime (which is the chief mineral substance of milk) 68 per
cent. was rendered soluble during the fermentation. These facts all confirm
the utility of the soured milk prepared from pure cultures of lactic bacteria.
Those persons who, from some reason or other, cannot take milk, may
swallow the bacilli in a pure culture without milk. However, as the
microbes need sugar to produce lactic acid, it is necessary to take with them
a certain quantity of sweet food (jam, sweet-meats, and especially beetroot).
The Bulgarian bacillus produces lactic acid not only from milk sugar, but
also from many other sugars, for instance, cane sugar, maltose, levulose and
especially glucose.
Cultures of the bacillus can be made not only in milk, but in vegetable
broths, or broths of animal peptone to which sugar has been added. The
cultures can be taken in a dry form (powders or tabloids), or in the liquid in
which the bacilli had themselves been developed.
A reader who has little knowledge of such matters may be surprised by my
recommendation to absorb large quantities of microbes, as the general
belief is that microbes are all harmful. This belief, however, is erroneous.
There are many useful microbes, amongst which the lactic bacilli have an
honourable place. Moreover, the attempt has already been made to cure
certain diseases by the administration of cultures of bacteria. M.
Brudzinsky148 has used cultures of lactic microbes in certain intestinal
diseases of infants, whilst Dr. Tissier149 has used them in similar affections
of infants and adults.
From the general point of view of this book, the course recommended
consists of the absorption either of soured milk prepared by a group of
lactic bacteria, or of pure cultures of the Bulgarian bacillus, but in each case
taking at the same time a certain quantity of milk sugar or saccharose.
Page 146
For more than eight years I took, as a regular part of my diet, soured milk at
first prepared from boiled milk, inoculated with a lactic leaven. Since then,
I have changed the method of preparation and have adopted finally the pure
cultures which I have been describing. I am very well pleased with the
result, and I think that my experiment has gone on long enough to justify
my view. Several of my friends, some of whom suffered from maladies of
the intestine or kidneys, have followed my example, and have been well
satisfied. I think, therefore, that lactic bacteria can render a great service in
the fight against intestinal putrefaction.
If it be true that our precocious and unhappy old age is due to poisoning of
the tissues (the greater part of the poison coming from the large intestine
inhabited by numberless microbes), it is clear that agents which arrest
intestinal putrefaction must at the same time postpone and ameliorate old
age. This theoretical view is confirmed by the collection of facts regarding
races which live chiefly on soured milk, and amongst which great ages are
common. However, in a question so important, the theory must be tested by
direct observations. For this purpose the numerous infirmaries for old
people should be taken advantage of, and systematic investigations should
be made on the relation of intestinal microbes to precocious old age, and on
the influence of diets which prevent intestinal putrefaction in prolonging
life and maintaining the forces of the body. It can only be in the future, near
or remote, that we shall obtain exact information upon what is one of the
chief problems of humanity.
In the meantime, those who wish to preserve their intelligence as long as
possible and to make their cycle of life as complete and as normal as is
possible under present conditions, must depend on general sobriety and on
habits conforming to the rules of rational hygiene.
first prepared from boiled milk, inoculated with a lactic leaven. Since then,
I have changed the method of preparation and have adopted finally the pure
cultures which I have been describing. I am very well pleased with the
result, and I think that my experiment has gone on long enough to justify
my view. Several of my friends, some of whom suffered from maladies of
the intestine or kidneys, have followed my example, and have been well
satisfied. I think, therefore, that lactic bacteria can render a great service in
the fight against intestinal putrefaction.
If it be true that our precocious and unhappy old age is due to poisoning of
the tissues (the greater part of the poison coming from the large intestine
inhabited by numberless microbes), it is clear that agents which arrest
intestinal putrefaction must at the same time postpone and ameliorate old
age. This theoretical view is confirmed by the collection of facts regarding
races which live chiefly on soured milk, and amongst which great ages are
common. However, in a question so important, the theory must be tested by
direct observations. For this purpose the numerous infirmaries for old
people should be taken advantage of, and systematic investigations should
be made on the relation of intestinal microbes to precocious old age, and on
the influence of diets which prevent intestinal putrefaction in prolonging
life and maintaining the forces of the body. It can only be in the future, near
or remote, that we shall obtain exact information upon what is one of the
chief problems of humanity.
In the meantime, those who wish to preserve their intelligence as long as
possible and to make their cycle of life as complete and as normal as is
possible under present conditions, must depend on general sobriety and on
habits conforming to the rules of rational hygiene.
Page 147
PART V
PSYCHICAL RUDIMENTS IN MAN
I
RUDIMENTARY ORGANS IN MAN
Reply to critics who deny the simian origin of man—Actual existence of rudimentary
organs—Reductions in the structure of the organs of sense in man—Atrophy of Jacobson’s
organ and of the Harderian gland in the human race
Several critics of The Nature of Man have protested against my theory of
the simian origin of man. Some of these found my arguments unsatisfactory
and unconvincing. Others have attacked generally my suggestion that some
anthropoid had been suddenly transformed to a primitive human being.
It is true that so long as we have little palæontological evidence as to the
actual descent of man, we cannot discuss the subject without the aid of
hypotheses. I think, however, that recent additions to knowledge confirm
the theory of the descent of man in a way that ought to influence the most
resolute opponents. I have in mind chiefly the arguments supplied by the
embryology of anthropoid apes, and by the investigation of their blood.
None the less, there are still many authors who maintain their opposition.
One of my critics, Dr. Jousset,150 enumerates certain differences in the
structure of the skeleton in man and apes, and concludes that these radically
separate man from apes.
No one has ever doubted that man was not identical in structure with the
anthropoid apes, or that he differs from them in several characters of the
skeleton and of many other organs. The differences, however, do not justify
any radical separation of the two. The unusual length of arm, upon which
my opponents throw so much weight, is in harmony with the mode of life of
apes, as these climb on trees and walk on all four limbs. The difference
between apes and Europeans in length of arm is certainly considerable, but
is much less in the case of some lower races, such as the Veddahs. In the
Akkas of Central Africa, the arms are so long that the hands nearly reach
PSYCHICAL RUDIMENTS IN MAN
I
RUDIMENTARY ORGANS IN MAN
Reply to critics who deny the simian origin of man—Actual existence of rudimentary
organs—Reductions in the structure of the organs of sense in man—Atrophy of Jacobson’s
organ and of the Harderian gland in the human race
Several critics of The Nature of Man have protested against my theory of
the simian origin of man. Some of these found my arguments unsatisfactory
and unconvincing. Others have attacked generally my suggestion that some
anthropoid had been suddenly transformed to a primitive human being.
It is true that so long as we have little palæontological evidence as to the
actual descent of man, we cannot discuss the subject without the aid of
hypotheses. I think, however, that recent additions to knowledge confirm
the theory of the descent of man in a way that ought to influence the most
resolute opponents. I have in mind chiefly the arguments supplied by the
embryology of anthropoid apes, and by the investigation of their blood.
None the less, there are still many authors who maintain their opposition.
One of my critics, Dr. Jousset,150 enumerates certain differences in the
structure of the skeleton in man and apes, and concludes that these radically
separate man from apes.
No one has ever doubted that man was not identical in structure with the
anthropoid apes, or that he differs from them in several characters of the
skeleton and of many other organs. The differences, however, do not justify
any radical separation of the two. The unusual length of arm, upon which
my opponents throw so much weight, is in harmony with the mode of life of
apes, as these climb on trees and walk on all four limbs. The difference
between apes and Europeans in length of arm is certainly considerable, but
is much less in the case of some lower races, such as the Veddahs. In the
Akkas of Central Africa, the arms are so long that the hands nearly reach
Page 148
the knees. The fœtus of Europeans also shows an unusual length of arm,
probably an ancestral feature. It is only after birth that the arms become
relatively shorter.
All the other characters different in man and the apes, are equally
secondary. On the other hand, just as apes differ amongst themselves, so
also, the different races show differences often strongly marked. M.
Michaelis,151 in a comparative study of the muscular systems of monkeys,
has made known many details of the musculature in the orang-outan and the
chimpanzee, and it appears from his investigations that, although there are
some differences between these two apes, they are both closely similar to
man.
There are many variations in the muscular structure of man, and these find
parallels in the muscles of apes. This is also the case with other
abnormalities of structure, some of which resemble the condition in
mammals much lower than apes. An example of this is the presence of
additional pairs of nipples, arranged symmetrically on the sides of the chest
and occasionally found in human beings. A similar abnormality has been
found in some monkeys, and the best explanation of such an occurrence is
that monkeys, like man, are descended from mammals which possessed
several pairs of mammary glands.
The large number of abnormalities and rudimentary organs which may be
found in man affords important evidence in favour of the descent of man
from lower animals. Some authors, however, have tried to dispute this view
and even deny the existence of rudimentary organs. M. Brettes,152 amongst
my opponents, has brought together most facts upon this matter, with the
object of proving that such organs fulfil some function indispensable to the
body and bear witness to the existence of a general plan of organisation. My
opponent, however, confines himself to general propositions, laying much
stress on a law of “the subordination of organs” without proving that
rudimentary organs have an actual function. In The Nature of Man I
remarked on the uselessness of the wisdom teeth, which are not cut until
long after childhood and which are useless in mastication. In many human
beings these teeth never cut through the gum, and their absence is no
disadvantage. This is a typical case of a rudimentary organ. To maintain the
contrary it would be necessary to prove that the wisdom teeth fulfil an
probably an ancestral feature. It is only after birth that the arms become
relatively shorter.
All the other characters different in man and the apes, are equally
secondary. On the other hand, just as apes differ amongst themselves, so
also, the different races show differences often strongly marked. M.
Michaelis,151 in a comparative study of the muscular systems of monkeys,
has made known many details of the musculature in the orang-outan and the
chimpanzee, and it appears from his investigations that, although there are
some differences between these two apes, they are both closely similar to
man.
There are many variations in the muscular structure of man, and these find
parallels in the muscles of apes. This is also the case with other
abnormalities of structure, some of which resemble the condition in
mammals much lower than apes. An example of this is the presence of
additional pairs of nipples, arranged symmetrically on the sides of the chest
and occasionally found in human beings. A similar abnormality has been
found in some monkeys, and the best explanation of such an occurrence is
that monkeys, like man, are descended from mammals which possessed
several pairs of mammary glands.
The large number of abnormalities and rudimentary organs which may be
found in man affords important evidence in favour of the descent of man
from lower animals. Some authors, however, have tried to dispute this view
and even deny the existence of rudimentary organs. M. Brettes,152 amongst
my opponents, has brought together most facts upon this matter, with the
object of proving that such organs fulfil some function indispensable to the
body and bear witness to the existence of a general plan of organisation. My
opponent, however, confines himself to general propositions, laying much
stress on a law of “the subordination of organs” without proving that
rudimentary organs have an actual function. In The Nature of Man I
remarked on the uselessness of the wisdom teeth, which are not cut until
long after childhood and which are useless in mastication. In many human
beings these teeth never cut through the gum, and their absence is no
disadvantage. This is a typical case of a rudimentary organ. To maintain the
contrary it would be necessary to prove that the wisdom teeth fulfil an
Page 149
indispensable function and that their absence was in some way harmful to
the organism. No one has been able to show this.
The mammary glands in males are another case of rudimentary organs. The
function of these, of course, is well known in females, but it is only in the
rarest cases that they are active in males.
The organs of sense supply many cases of rudimentary structures. Animals
which live in caves, in the dark, do not discern objects by sight, and in these
cases the eyes are rudimentary. It is quite impossible to deny the existence
of rudimentary organs. They are extremely important guides to us in our
investigation of the past history of the human race. The comparative study
of the organs which are rudimentary in man and more or less well
developed in lower animals is of fundamental importance in the problem of
our origin.
The higher apes, or anthropoids, display reduction in some parts of the
organs of sense. The organ of smell, for instance, is much less developed in
them than in many other animals. Man has inherited the imperfect condition
of this organ, and his sense of smell is much less developed than that of
mammals which are lower in the scale of life. Man, however, because of his
intelligence, has been able to tame domestic animals, such as dogs, ferrets,
and pigs, and to make use of their acute sense of smell for tracking game or
obtaining edible plants. The imperfect condition of the sense of smell in
man in other cases is well replaced by his mental powers. He no longer
recognises the approach of an enemy by the sense of smell, in order that he
may take flight, because he has better means of defence than those of
animals. It is not surprising, therefore, that the olfactory apparatus of man is
much reduced as compared with that of lower mammals. In apes and man
the nasal region of the head is much smaller than in their mammalian
ancestors, and in the deep-lying parts of the system there are corresponding
differences. Most mammals, for instance, and the dog in particular, have
four turbinal bones, the purpose of which is to increase the surface of the
mucous membrane of the nose, whilst in man there are only three, one of
which is rudimentary.
The olfactory apparatus in most mammals contains a well-developed
portion known as the organ of Jacobson, the probable function of which is
to appreciate the flavour of food in the mouth. In man, this organ is in a
the organism. No one has been able to show this.
The mammary glands in males are another case of rudimentary organs. The
function of these, of course, is well known in females, but it is only in the
rarest cases that they are active in males.
The organs of sense supply many cases of rudimentary structures. Animals
which live in caves, in the dark, do not discern objects by sight, and in these
cases the eyes are rudimentary. It is quite impossible to deny the existence
of rudimentary organs. They are extremely important guides to us in our
investigation of the past history of the human race. The comparative study
of the organs which are rudimentary in man and more or less well
developed in lower animals is of fundamental importance in the problem of
our origin.
The higher apes, or anthropoids, display reduction in some parts of the
organs of sense. The organ of smell, for instance, is much less developed in
them than in many other animals. Man has inherited the imperfect condition
of this organ, and his sense of smell is much less developed than that of
mammals which are lower in the scale of life. Man, however, because of his
intelligence, has been able to tame domestic animals, such as dogs, ferrets,
and pigs, and to make use of their acute sense of smell for tracking game or
obtaining edible plants. The imperfect condition of the sense of smell in
man in other cases is well replaced by his mental powers. He no longer
recognises the approach of an enemy by the sense of smell, in order that he
may take flight, because he has better means of defence than those of
animals. It is not surprising, therefore, that the olfactory apparatus of man is
much reduced as compared with that of lower mammals. In apes and man
the nasal region of the head is much smaller than in their mammalian
ancestors, and in the deep-lying parts of the system there are corresponding
differences. Most mammals, for instance, and the dog in particular, have
four turbinal bones, the purpose of which is to increase the surface of the
mucous membrane of the nose, whilst in man there are only three, one of
which is rudimentary.
The olfactory apparatus in most mammals contains a well-developed
portion known as the organ of Jacobson, the probable function of which is
to appreciate the flavour of food in the mouth. In man, this organ is in a
Page 150
rudimentary condition and cannot fulfil its function, as it is devoid of its
proper nerve. This remnant, now useless, gives us information as to the
evolution of the organ of smell in man. In the human fœtus, Jacobson’s
organ is not only better developed than in adult man, but it is also provided
with a stout nerve trunk, which disappears towards the end of embryonic
life. The organ, however, cannot perform any olfactory function. The
human fœtus, moreover, possesses five turbinals which later on become
reduced to three, and of these only two develop completely.
The history of the evolution of the organ of smell, as it has been made out
by comparative anatomy and embryology, links this apparatus in man with
the corresponding organs of other mammals by means of these useless
rudiments, which, however, are important evidence in scientific theory.
The auditory apparatus also has become reduced in man. Many animals, in
the struggle for existence, require a very acute sense of hearing, more so
than man or some of the most intelligent mammals. We have all seen how
horses raise their ears to hear better when there is the slightest sound near
them. Monkeys and man have lost this power, and man sometimes tries to
supply the defect by artificial means. When a lecturer, for instance, is not
speaking sufficiently loud some of the audience put their hands to their ears,
making a kind of trumpet which serves to catch the sound. The human
external ear is supplied with muscles, but in most cases these are too feeble
to move it. In very rare cases persons can move their ears, the muscles
inserted to the shell in most of us being mere rudiments of those that existed
in our ancestors.
In the organ of sight, the little fold in the inner angle of the eye, known as
the semilunar fold, is of special interest. This membrane is a useless vestige
of a structure much better developed in lower mammals. In the dog it is
present as a small third eyelid, supported by a special cartilage provided
with a secreting gland, known as the Harderian gland. In birds, reptiles and
frogs, the corresponding structures are much better developed. Everyone
has seen the delicate membrane which, in the case of a bird, may shoot out
from the inner angle of the eye and cover the whole of the exposed part of
the eyeball (nictitating membrane). In these animals, the eye is protected by
this third lid, which has its own muscles. As in the dog, this third eyelid of
birds and lower vertebrates is generally provided with a large Harderian
gland, which produces a liquid secretion like tears.
proper nerve. This remnant, now useless, gives us information as to the
evolution of the organ of smell in man. In the human fœtus, Jacobson’s
organ is not only better developed than in adult man, but it is also provided
with a stout nerve trunk, which disappears towards the end of embryonic
life. The organ, however, cannot perform any olfactory function. The
human fœtus, moreover, possesses five turbinals which later on become
reduced to three, and of these only two develop completely.
The history of the evolution of the organ of smell, as it has been made out
by comparative anatomy and embryology, links this apparatus in man with
the corresponding organs of other mammals by means of these useless
rudiments, which, however, are important evidence in scientific theory.
The auditory apparatus also has become reduced in man. Many animals, in
the struggle for existence, require a very acute sense of hearing, more so
than man or some of the most intelligent mammals. We have all seen how
horses raise their ears to hear better when there is the slightest sound near
them. Monkeys and man have lost this power, and man sometimes tries to
supply the defect by artificial means. When a lecturer, for instance, is not
speaking sufficiently loud some of the audience put their hands to their ears,
making a kind of trumpet which serves to catch the sound. The human
external ear is supplied with muscles, but in most cases these are too feeble
to move it. In very rare cases persons can move their ears, the muscles
inserted to the shell in most of us being mere rudiments of those that existed
in our ancestors.
In the organ of sight, the little fold in the inner angle of the eye, known as
the semilunar fold, is of special interest. This membrane is a useless vestige
of a structure much better developed in lower mammals. In the dog it is
present as a small third eyelid, supported by a special cartilage provided
with a secreting gland, known as the Harderian gland. In birds, reptiles and
frogs, the corresponding structures are much better developed. Everyone
has seen the delicate membrane which, in the case of a bird, may shoot out
from the inner angle of the eye and cover the whole of the exposed part of
the eyeball (nictitating membrane). In these animals, the eye is protected by
this third lid, which has its own muscles. As in the dog, this third eyelid of
birds and lower vertebrates is generally provided with a large Harderian
gland, which produces a liquid secretion like tears.
Page 151
In most monkeys, this apparatus is much reduced. Many of them have still a
small Harderian gland and a weak third eyelid. In man, as I have already
said, there are only vestiges of these organs, the gland being almost
atrophied and the third eyelid represented only by an insignificant
crescentic fold. In the lower races the fold sometimes contains a small
cartilage. Giacomini found it twelve times in sixteen negroes, whilst in 548
white people it was found only in three cases.
The interpretation of these facts is not doubtful. This little fold is the last
vestige in use of an organ which was useful only in our remote ancestors.
The organs of reproduction in the human race also show a number of
rudiments. There remain even traces of a hermaphrodite condition, a very
low degree of organisation, going back to extremely remote ancestors. The
evidence given by the very large number of abnormalities that are found in
these organs makes it clear that, in the long period of the evolution of the
human race, they have been subjected to a series of modifications. Thus, for
instance, there is occasionally present in women a form of uterus
resembling that of the lower mammals, or even the double uterus of
marsupials.
The evolution of man has been dominated by the great development of the
brain and of the intelligence, and man, accordingly, has lost many organs
and functions which were of use in his more or less remote ancestors.
II
HUMAN TRAITS OF CHARACTER INHERITED FROM APES
The mental character of anthropoid apes—Their muscular strength—Their expression of
fear—The awakening of latent instincts of man under the influence of fear
The facts of which I have given a résumé serve to show that evolution
always leaves definite traces indicating its successive stages in the form of
rudiments. It is probable, therefore, that the pre-human mental functions or
psycho-physiological qualities, which have so long a history behind them,
have also left more or less appreciable traces. These, however, must be
small Harderian gland and a weak third eyelid. In man, as I have already
said, there are only vestiges of these organs, the gland being almost
atrophied and the third eyelid represented only by an insignificant
crescentic fold. In the lower races the fold sometimes contains a small
cartilage. Giacomini found it twelve times in sixteen negroes, whilst in 548
white people it was found only in three cases.
The interpretation of these facts is not doubtful. This little fold is the last
vestige in use of an organ which was useful only in our remote ancestors.
The organs of reproduction in the human race also show a number of
rudiments. There remain even traces of a hermaphrodite condition, a very
low degree of organisation, going back to extremely remote ancestors. The
evidence given by the very large number of abnormalities that are found in
these organs makes it clear that, in the long period of the evolution of the
human race, they have been subjected to a series of modifications. Thus, for
instance, there is occasionally present in women a form of uterus
resembling that of the lower mammals, or even the double uterus of
marsupials.
The evolution of man has been dominated by the great development of the
brain and of the intelligence, and man, accordingly, has lost many organs
and functions which were of use in his more or less remote ancestors.
II
HUMAN TRAITS OF CHARACTER INHERITED FROM APES
The mental character of anthropoid apes—Their muscular strength—Their expression of
fear—The awakening of latent instincts of man under the influence of fear
The facts of which I have given a résumé serve to show that evolution
always leaves definite traces indicating its successive stages in the form of
rudiments. It is probable, therefore, that the pre-human mental functions or
psycho-physiological qualities, which have so long a history behind them,
have also left more or less appreciable traces. These, however, must be
Page 152
more difficult to find than rudimentary organs which can be made visible by
dissection.
If we turn first to the animals most nearly related to man, we find that the
living anthropoid apes show in the clearest way their close relationship with
the human race, and suggest that their kinship with our remoter ancestors
must be even greater.
The anthropoid apes alive to-day are animals inhabiting chiefly virgin
forests, and feeding on fruits and shoots, although they do not despise eggs
or even little birds. To satisfy their wants, they climb with the greatest ease.
Orang-outans and chimpanzees climb slowly and carefully, whilst gibbons
show a greater agility and more perfect acrobatic power. They may be seen
throwing themselves from branch to branch across spaces of forty feet with
the greatest precision. They play at the top of very tall trees, hardly grasping
the branches through which they pass, making leaps of from twelve to
eighteen feet for hours together with little apparent exertion.
To give an idea of the dexterity and swiftness of gibbons, Martin took the
case of a female which he observed in captivity. One time she hurled herself
from a perch across a space at least twelve feet wide, against a window
which one would have thought would have been immediately broken. To
the great surprise of the spectators it was not broken. The gibbon seized
with her hands the narrow board between the panes, and then in an instant
twisted herself round and jumped back to the cage she had left, performing
this manœuvre with great strength and the most marvellous precision.
The muscular force implied in the above narrative is possessed by all the
anthropoid apes. Battel, an English sailor who gave the first description of
the gorilla in the beginning of the 17th century, stated that the strength of
that animal was so great that ten men could hardly master an adult
specimen. The other anthropoids, although not so strong as the gorilla,
nevertheless display surprising force.
Edouard, the young male chimpanzee which I used in my experiments on
syphilis, struggled so much at the least touch that it took four men to master
him. I had to give up allowing him to leave his cage because there was no
way of getting him back to it. Even quite young chimpanzees, females not
yet two years old, cannot be handled easily. Although they are very friendly,
my specimens used to resist with all their strength when it was necessary to
dissection.
If we turn first to the animals most nearly related to man, we find that the
living anthropoid apes show in the clearest way their close relationship with
the human race, and suggest that their kinship with our remoter ancestors
must be even greater.
The anthropoid apes alive to-day are animals inhabiting chiefly virgin
forests, and feeding on fruits and shoots, although they do not despise eggs
or even little birds. To satisfy their wants, they climb with the greatest ease.
Orang-outans and chimpanzees climb slowly and carefully, whilst gibbons
show a greater agility and more perfect acrobatic power. They may be seen
throwing themselves from branch to branch across spaces of forty feet with
the greatest precision. They play at the top of very tall trees, hardly grasping
the branches through which they pass, making leaps of from twelve to
eighteen feet for hours together with little apparent exertion.
To give an idea of the dexterity and swiftness of gibbons, Martin took the
case of a female which he observed in captivity. One time she hurled herself
from a perch across a space at least twelve feet wide, against a window
which one would have thought would have been immediately broken. To
the great surprise of the spectators it was not broken. The gibbon seized
with her hands the narrow board between the panes, and then in an instant
twisted herself round and jumped back to the cage she had left, performing
this manœuvre with great strength and the most marvellous precision.
The muscular force implied in the above narrative is possessed by all the
anthropoid apes. Battel, an English sailor who gave the first description of
the gorilla in the beginning of the 17th century, stated that the strength of
that animal was so great that ten men could hardly master an adult
specimen. The other anthropoids, although not so strong as the gorilla,
nevertheless display surprising force.
Edouard, the young male chimpanzee which I used in my experiments on
syphilis, struggled so much at the least touch that it took four men to master
him. I had to give up allowing him to leave his cage because there was no
way of getting him back to it. Even quite young chimpanzees, females not
yet two years old, cannot be handled easily. Although they are very friendly,
my specimens used to resist with all their strength when it was necessary to
Page 153
put them back in their cages for the night. Two men had much ado to shut
them up.
Notwithstanding this great muscular force, the anthropoid apes are
cowardly. They have no idea of their strength, but fly from the approach of
the slightest imagined danger. My young chimpanzees, although their teeth
and muscles were already formidable weapons, showed the greatest fear
when I put with them animals even so weak and harmless as guinea-pigs,
pigeons and rabbits. Mice frightened them very much at first, and it took
them a considerable time before they got over their fear of so insignificant
an enemy. When living in a state of nature the anthropoid apes scarcely ever
assume the offensive. “Though possessed of immense strength,” wrote
Huxley,153 “it is rare for the Orang to attempt to defend itself, especially
when attacked with fire-arms. On such occasions he endeavours to hide
himself, or to escape along the topmost branches of the trees, breaking off
and throwing down the boughs as he goes.” Savage154 wrote of
chimpanzees that “they do not appear ever to act on the offensive, and
seldom, if ever really, on the defensive.” When a female was surprised on a
tree with her young ones “her first impulse was to descend with great
rapidity and make off into the thicket.”155
The gorilla, the strongest and most ferocious of the apes, has sometimes
been observed to take the offensive. Savage, quoted by Huxley, said that
“they are exceedingly ferocious, and always offensive in their habits, never
running from man, as does the chimpanzee. The females and young, at the
first cry, quickly disappear. He (the male) then approaches the enemy in
great fury, pouring out his horrid cries in quick succession.”156 Only males
take the offensive, nor can this be of frequent occurrence, as one of the most
recent observers, Koppenfels,157 states that “the gorilla never attacks man
spontaneously; he tries to avoid him, and, as a rule, takes to flight as soon
as he sees a man, uttering peculiar guttural cries.”
Which of these characters are preserved in the human race? Man is
naturally feebler and less of a gymnast than the great apes, but his
disposition is cowardly. One of the earliest signs of mental activity in an
infant is the fear of surrounding circumstances. The smallest change in its
balance or its being put in a bath cause it to show signs of real terror. Later
them up.
Notwithstanding this great muscular force, the anthropoid apes are
cowardly. They have no idea of their strength, but fly from the approach of
the slightest imagined danger. My young chimpanzees, although their teeth
and muscles were already formidable weapons, showed the greatest fear
when I put with them animals even so weak and harmless as guinea-pigs,
pigeons and rabbits. Mice frightened them very much at first, and it took
them a considerable time before they got over their fear of so insignificant
an enemy. When living in a state of nature the anthropoid apes scarcely ever
assume the offensive. “Though possessed of immense strength,” wrote
Huxley,153 “it is rare for the Orang to attempt to defend itself, especially
when attacked with fire-arms. On such occasions he endeavours to hide
himself, or to escape along the topmost branches of the trees, breaking off
and throwing down the boughs as he goes.” Savage154 wrote of
chimpanzees that “they do not appear ever to act on the offensive, and
seldom, if ever really, on the defensive.” When a female was surprised on a
tree with her young ones “her first impulse was to descend with great
rapidity and make off into the thicket.”155
The gorilla, the strongest and most ferocious of the apes, has sometimes
been observed to take the offensive. Savage, quoted by Huxley, said that
“they are exceedingly ferocious, and always offensive in their habits, never
running from man, as does the chimpanzee. The females and young, at the
first cry, quickly disappear. He (the male) then approaches the enemy in
great fury, pouring out his horrid cries in quick succession.”156 Only males
take the offensive, nor can this be of frequent occurrence, as one of the most
recent observers, Koppenfels,157 states that “the gorilla never attacks man
spontaneously; he tries to avoid him, and, as a rule, takes to flight as soon
as he sees a man, uttering peculiar guttural cries.”
Which of these characters are preserved in the human race? Man is
naturally feebler and less of a gymnast than the great apes, but his
disposition is cowardly. One of the earliest signs of mental activity in an
infant is the fear of surrounding circumstances. The smallest change in its
balance or its being put in a bath cause it to show signs of real terror. Later
Page 154
on, it is alarmed when it sees any kind of animal, exactly in the fashion of a
young chimpanzee. The most harmless spider is enough to frighten it.
Although mental culture subdues fear to a large extent, fear reveals itself
more or less strongly from time to time, and it is on such occasions that we
may find in the human being psychological relics of his ancestors. An
analysis of fear is of special interest.
The first result of the emotion of fear is flight. Consciousness of danger sets
our limbs in motion, and our instinctive desire to escape displays itself even
when flight is more dangerous than what we wish to avoid. At the first
alarm of fire in a public building, people rush towards the exits and in so
doing often perish from their wish to escape. Even in the extreme of terror,
the desire of flight is one of the earliest impulses. Mosso, a well-known
Italian physiologist, in a monograph on fear, relates that when a Calabrian
brigand was sentenced to death “he uttered a sharp cry, heart-rending and
terrible, looked around him as if he were eagerly seeking for something,
and then stepped backwards as if to fly, and threw himself against the wall
of the court, writhing, with arms outstretched, scratching at the wall as if he
were trying to break through it.”
Although in such a case it was futile and often is harmful, the instinct of
flight from danger is inherited from ancestors from a time when it served to
save life. Attempts to escape are not the only signs of fear. There is often a
trembling fit which would make flight impossible. In Mosso’s case of the
Calabrian brigand, “after his struggles, cries and contortions, he fell on the
ground in a motionless heap, like a wet rag; he became pale and trembled
more than I have seen any other person tremble; his muscles seemed
changed into a soft and quivering jelly.” This condition of trembling inertia
is another legacy from animals. Quivering of the muscles often manifests
itself in terrified animals. Darwin158 wrote of it, “trembling is of no service,
often of much disservice, and cannot at first have been acquired through the
will, and then rendered habitual in association with any emotion.” The
phenomenon seemed to him obscure and difficult to explain, a view shared
by Mosso. The trembling of the musculature of the body is a generalised
and exaggerated form of the movements of the cutaneous muscles in the
condition known popularly as “goose-skin.” The latter, however, is a relic
of an adaptation useful to some animals. The hedgehog rarely takes to flight
at the approach of danger, but stands still, and using strongly developed
young chimpanzee. The most harmless spider is enough to frighten it.
Although mental culture subdues fear to a large extent, fear reveals itself
more or less strongly from time to time, and it is on such occasions that we
may find in the human being psychological relics of his ancestors. An
analysis of fear is of special interest.
The first result of the emotion of fear is flight. Consciousness of danger sets
our limbs in motion, and our instinctive desire to escape displays itself even
when flight is more dangerous than what we wish to avoid. At the first
alarm of fire in a public building, people rush towards the exits and in so
doing often perish from their wish to escape. Even in the extreme of terror,
the desire of flight is one of the earliest impulses. Mosso, a well-known
Italian physiologist, in a monograph on fear, relates that when a Calabrian
brigand was sentenced to death “he uttered a sharp cry, heart-rending and
terrible, looked around him as if he were eagerly seeking for something,
and then stepped backwards as if to fly, and threw himself against the wall
of the court, writhing, with arms outstretched, scratching at the wall as if he
were trying to break through it.”
Although in such a case it was futile and often is harmful, the instinct of
flight from danger is inherited from ancestors from a time when it served to
save life. Attempts to escape are not the only signs of fear. There is often a
trembling fit which would make flight impossible. In Mosso’s case of the
Calabrian brigand, “after his struggles, cries and contortions, he fell on the
ground in a motionless heap, like a wet rag; he became pale and trembled
more than I have seen any other person tremble; his muscles seemed
changed into a soft and quivering jelly.” This condition of trembling inertia
is another legacy from animals. Quivering of the muscles often manifests
itself in terrified animals. Darwin158 wrote of it, “trembling is of no service,
often of much disservice, and cannot at first have been acquired through the
will, and then rendered habitual in association with any emotion.” The
phenomenon seemed to him obscure and difficult to explain, a view shared
by Mosso. The trembling of the musculature of the body is a generalised
and exaggerated form of the movements of the cutaneous muscles in the
condition known popularly as “goose-skin.” The latter, however, is a relic
of an adaptation useful to some animals. The hedgehog rarely takes to flight
at the approach of danger, but stands still, and using strongly developed
Page 155
muscles, rolls itself into a ball. In birds and many mammals, the muscles of
the skin cause erection of the feathers or hairs. These movements often are
performed during fright, and according to Darwin, serve not only to warm
the skin, but sometimes to make the animal appear larger and more
terrifying to enemies.
Fear and cold alike cause contraction of the superficial blood-vessels, and,
in man, excite the contraction of the minute rudimentary muscles inserted to
the roots of the hairs. “Goose-skin” is caused by the contraction of these
muscles, the condition being a functional rudiment, no longer serving to
warm the skin nor to make the body appear larger. In a few exceptional
cases, “goose-skin” can be produced voluntarily. In the normal condition,
the rudimentary cutaneous muscles of man are immobile, and it requires
some special stimulation to set them in action.
Fear, which is occasionally able to excite the contraction of the involuntary
muscles, also stimulates other muscles against the will. Under the influence
of emotions that powerfully affect the nervous system, and particularly
under that of fear, contractions of the bladder and intestines may be so
violent that it is impossible to prevent the voiding of their contents.
Accidents of this kind are not infrequent in the case of youthful candidates
at examinations. Mosso relates of a friend, a volunteer in the war of 1866,
that he was seized with terror during a battle and that the utmost efforts of
his will failed to make his body endure the terrible spectacle.
The involuntary action of the bladder and intestines during fear is a legacy
from animals. The phenomenon is common in dogs and monkeys.
Chimpanzees, when laid hold of, discharge their urine and fæces. At
Madeira I had an unusually cowardly Cercopithecus monkey which when at
all alarmed discharged the contents of the rectum. Quite possibly such a
mechanism was useful for the preservation of the individual. The emission
of various kinds of excretions is of use in the struggle for existence. In that
way the fox drives the badger from its earth and takes possession of it,
whilst polecats and skunks defend themselves against more powerful
carnivorous animals by discharging on them fœtid secretions.
Instinctive fear is therefore a very powerful stimulant, awakening functions
which are rudimentary and almost completely extinct. Sometimes it sets in
operation mechanisms which have long been paralysed. Pausanias gives an
the skin cause erection of the feathers or hairs. These movements often are
performed during fright, and according to Darwin, serve not only to warm
the skin, but sometimes to make the animal appear larger and more
terrifying to enemies.
Fear and cold alike cause contraction of the superficial blood-vessels, and,
in man, excite the contraction of the minute rudimentary muscles inserted to
the roots of the hairs. “Goose-skin” is caused by the contraction of these
muscles, the condition being a functional rudiment, no longer serving to
warm the skin nor to make the body appear larger. In a few exceptional
cases, “goose-skin” can be produced voluntarily. In the normal condition,
the rudimentary cutaneous muscles of man are immobile, and it requires
some special stimulation to set them in action.
Fear, which is occasionally able to excite the contraction of the involuntary
muscles, also stimulates other muscles against the will. Under the influence
of emotions that powerfully affect the nervous system, and particularly
under that of fear, contractions of the bladder and intestines may be so
violent that it is impossible to prevent the voiding of their contents.
Accidents of this kind are not infrequent in the case of youthful candidates
at examinations. Mosso relates of a friend, a volunteer in the war of 1866,
that he was seized with terror during a battle and that the utmost efforts of
his will failed to make his body endure the terrible spectacle.
The involuntary action of the bladder and intestines during fear is a legacy
from animals. The phenomenon is common in dogs and monkeys.
Chimpanzees, when laid hold of, discharge their urine and fæces. At
Madeira I had an unusually cowardly Cercopithecus monkey which when at
all alarmed discharged the contents of the rectum. Quite possibly such a
mechanism was useful for the preservation of the individual. The emission
of various kinds of excretions is of use in the struggle for existence. In that
way the fox drives the badger from its earth and takes possession of it,
whilst polecats and skunks defend themselves against more powerful
carnivorous animals by discharging on them fœtid secretions.
Instinctive fear is therefore a very powerful stimulant, awakening functions
which are rudimentary and almost completely extinct. Sometimes it sets in
operation mechanisms which have long been paralysed. Pausanias gives an
Page 156
example of a dumb young man who recovered his speech when he was
terrified by seeing a lion. Herodotus relates that the son of Crœsus, who was
dumb, on seeing a Persian about to kill his father, cried out: “You must not
kill Crœsus,” and from that time onwards was able to talk. These ancient
narratives have been confirmed by many modern observations. A woman,
for instance, who had been dumb for several years, on seeing a fire, was
terrified and cried out suddenly “Fire!” after which her speech was restored.
Such are cases of the awakening of a function which has been arrested only
for several years. But fear can bring into activity other mechanisms which
have been inactive from time immemorial.
Many different kinds of animals can swim instinctively. This is true in the
case of most birds and mammals. There are some species which show a
repugnance to water, but none the less swim well enough if they are thrown
into it. Cats shun water as much as possible, but, none the less, can swim
quite easily. Historians relate that Hannibal had great difficulty in getting
his elephants to cross the Rhone. Some females were ferried across first,
upon which the other elephants threw themselves into the water to pursue
them and swam across the river without any difficulty (Lenthéric, Le
Rhône, 1892, p. 81).
The lower monkeys can swim without being taught, but the anthropoid apes
have lost this power, and man also is without it. M. Volz159 states that the
different species of gibbons which live in Sumatra are separated by rivers.
Their inability to swim makes these a complete barrier. It is probable that
the lower races, in this respect, are better endowed than we are. It is said
that in the case of negroes, children run to the sea or to rivers almost as
soon as they leave the cradle, and learn to swim almost as quickly as to
walk.160 In the case of white people, many find it very difficult to learn to
swim, and it is at least certain that swimming is not instinctive as in the case
of our animal ancestors. Christmann,161 the author of a treatise on
swimming, states that the reason of man is a worse guide than the infallible
instinct of the animal. Fear is able to stifle reason and to allow the instinct
to come into play. It is known that children or adults may be taught to swim
by throwing them into the water. Under the influence of fear, the instinctive
mechanism inherited from animals awakens, and man soon becomes a
swimmer. There are some teachers of swimming who use this method
successfully. I have myself known an individual who learnt the art in that
terrified by seeing a lion. Herodotus relates that the son of Crœsus, who was
dumb, on seeing a Persian about to kill his father, cried out: “You must not
kill Crœsus,” and from that time onwards was able to talk. These ancient
narratives have been confirmed by many modern observations. A woman,
for instance, who had been dumb for several years, on seeing a fire, was
terrified and cried out suddenly “Fire!” after which her speech was restored.
Such are cases of the awakening of a function which has been arrested only
for several years. But fear can bring into activity other mechanisms which
have been inactive from time immemorial.
Many different kinds of animals can swim instinctively. This is true in the
case of most birds and mammals. There are some species which show a
repugnance to water, but none the less swim well enough if they are thrown
into it. Cats shun water as much as possible, but, none the less, can swim
quite easily. Historians relate that Hannibal had great difficulty in getting
his elephants to cross the Rhone. Some females were ferried across first,
upon which the other elephants threw themselves into the water to pursue
them and swam across the river without any difficulty (Lenthéric, Le
Rhône, 1892, p. 81).
The lower monkeys can swim without being taught, but the anthropoid apes
have lost this power, and man also is without it. M. Volz159 states that the
different species of gibbons which live in Sumatra are separated by rivers.
Their inability to swim makes these a complete barrier. It is probable that
the lower races, in this respect, are better endowed than we are. It is said
that in the case of negroes, children run to the sea or to rivers almost as
soon as they leave the cradle, and learn to swim almost as quickly as to
walk.160 In the case of white people, many find it very difficult to learn to
swim, and it is at least certain that swimming is not instinctive as in the case
of our animal ancestors. Christmann,161 the author of a treatise on
swimming, states that the reason of man is a worse guide than the infallible
instinct of the animal. Fear is able to stifle reason and to allow the instinct
to come into play. It is known that children or adults may be taught to swim
by throwing them into the water. Under the influence of fear, the instinctive
mechanism inherited from animals awakens, and man soon becomes a
swimmer. There are some teachers of swimming who use this method
successfully. I have myself known an individual who learnt the art in that
Page 157
way, and M. Troubat, librarian at the International Library, has informed me
that one of his friends, a journalist who died at Noyon several years ago,
bathed in the Seine one evening at Neuilly when he could not swim.
Unexpectedly finding himself beyond his depth, a sudden movement of fear
saved him. Since then, he said, he knew how to swim.
Just as there are cases in which terror provokes flight, and others in which it
causes an arrest of motion, so also fear may do a disservice to a swimmer.
Those who employ fear as a means of teaching to swim, know that they
must intervene if there is real danger. It is true, none the less, that up to a
certain point fear can awaken functions which have been atrophied for
numberless generations, and that we can learn from it something as to the
evolution of the human race.
III
SOMNAMBULISM AND HYSTERIA AS MENTAL RELICS
Fear as the primary cause of hysteria—Natural somnambulism—Doubling of personality—
Some examples of somnambulists—Analogy between somnambulism and the life of
anthropoid apes—The psychology of crowds—Importance of the investigation of hysteria
for the problem of the origin of man
The study of fear is interesting in other respects than those with which I
have been dealing. It is also a primary cause of the obscure and complicated
phenomena of hysteria.
Thus, for instance, amongst twenty-two hysterical women observed by
Georget162 the primary causes were: terror, 13 cases; extreme grief, 7 cases;
extreme annoyance, one case. A patient of M. Pitres, of Bordeaux, first
exhibited hysteria after being extremely terrified. A man with a tame bear
had come to the village. The patient went to see the performance and
elbowed her way through the crowd until she got to the front row. The bear,
whilst dancing, passed so close that its cold muzzle touched the cheek of
the young girl. Marie—for that was the patient’s name—was terrified. She
ran quickly home, and almost on her arrival fell on her bed in an attack of
convulsion and extreme delirium. Since then the attacks have been repeated
that one of his friends, a journalist who died at Noyon several years ago,
bathed in the Seine one evening at Neuilly when he could not swim.
Unexpectedly finding himself beyond his depth, a sudden movement of fear
saved him. Since then, he said, he knew how to swim.
Just as there are cases in which terror provokes flight, and others in which it
causes an arrest of motion, so also fear may do a disservice to a swimmer.
Those who employ fear as a means of teaching to swim, know that they
must intervene if there is real danger. It is true, none the less, that up to a
certain point fear can awaken functions which have been atrophied for
numberless generations, and that we can learn from it something as to the
evolution of the human race.
III
SOMNAMBULISM AND HYSTERIA AS MENTAL RELICS
Fear as the primary cause of hysteria—Natural somnambulism—Doubling of personality—
Some examples of somnambulists—Analogy between somnambulism and the life of
anthropoid apes—The psychology of crowds—Importance of the investigation of hysteria
for the problem of the origin of man
The study of fear is interesting in other respects than those with which I
have been dealing. It is also a primary cause of the obscure and complicated
phenomena of hysteria.
Thus, for instance, amongst twenty-two hysterical women observed by
Georget162 the primary causes were: terror, 13 cases; extreme grief, 7 cases;
extreme annoyance, one case. A patient of M. Pitres, of Bordeaux, first
exhibited hysteria after being extremely terrified. A man with a tame bear
had come to the village. The patient went to see the performance and
elbowed her way through the crowd until she got to the front row. The bear,
whilst dancing, passed so close that its cold muzzle touched the cheek of
the young girl. Marie—for that was the patient’s name—was terrified. She
ran quickly home, and almost on her arrival fell on her bed in an attack of
convulsion and extreme delirium. Since then the attacks have been repeated
Page 158
many times, and the delirium associated with them always turns upon the
terror caused by the bear touching her.
A hysterical woman at the Salpétrière is haunted by terrifying dreams. She
thinks someone is trying to murder her, or to cut her throat, or that she is
falling into water, and she keeps crying for help.163
Some of the most curious phases of hysteria are the paradoxical and
extraordinary cases of so-called natural somnambulism, in which the
patients, whilst asleep, perform all sorts of acts of which they remember
nothing in their waking hours. Cases of duplication of personality are also
known, in which the patients live in two different states without, in one of
these, having the slightest remembrance of what takes place in the other.
One of the most curious observations was that of the somnambulist who
became enceinte whilst in her second state. In her first, or normal condition,
she was ignorant of the reason of her physical changes, although in the
second state she knew about it quite well and spoke freely of it (Pitres, op.
cit. II, 215).
In the state of natural somnambulism the patients generally reproduce the
normal acts of their daily life which they have acquired the habit of
performing unconsciously. Artisans devote themselves to their manual
work, sempstresses begin to sew, maid servants brush shoes or clothes, lay
the table and so forth. Educated persons devote themselves to intellectual
work to which they are accustomed. Clergymen have been known to
compose their sermons in the somnambulistic condition, and to read them
over to correct mistakes in style or in spelling.
However, besides somnambulists who during slumber simply repeat the
usual acts of their life, there are others who do special things to which they
are unaccustomed.
It is these cases which are most interesting from my point of view. I shall
take one case which has been specially well reported. A hysterical patient, a
girl of 24 years of age, was admitted as an in-patient to the hospital
Laënnec. One Sunday, she got up about one o’clock in the morning. The
night watchman, who was alarmed, went for the night doctor, who
witnessed the following scene. “The patient went to the staircase leading to
the nurses’ quarters, then suddenly turned round and walked towards the
wash-house. The door of that being closed, she then groped for a time and
terror caused by the bear touching her.
A hysterical woman at the Salpétrière is haunted by terrifying dreams. She
thinks someone is trying to murder her, or to cut her throat, or that she is
falling into water, and she keeps crying for help.163
Some of the most curious phases of hysteria are the paradoxical and
extraordinary cases of so-called natural somnambulism, in which the
patients, whilst asleep, perform all sorts of acts of which they remember
nothing in their waking hours. Cases of duplication of personality are also
known, in which the patients live in two different states without, in one of
these, having the slightest remembrance of what takes place in the other.
One of the most curious observations was that of the somnambulist who
became enceinte whilst in her second state. In her first, or normal condition,
she was ignorant of the reason of her physical changes, although in the
second state she knew about it quite well and spoke freely of it (Pitres, op.
cit. II, 215).
In the state of natural somnambulism the patients generally reproduce the
normal acts of their daily life which they have acquired the habit of
performing unconsciously. Artisans devote themselves to their manual
work, sempstresses begin to sew, maid servants brush shoes or clothes, lay
the table and so forth. Educated persons devote themselves to intellectual
work to which they are accustomed. Clergymen have been known to
compose their sermons in the somnambulistic condition, and to read them
over to correct mistakes in style or in spelling.
However, besides somnambulists who during slumber simply repeat the
usual acts of their life, there are others who do special things to which they
are unaccustomed.
It is these cases which are most interesting from my point of view. I shall
take one case which has been specially well reported. A hysterical patient, a
girl of 24 years of age, was admitted as an in-patient to the hospital
Laënnec. One Sunday, she got up about one o’clock in the morning. The
night watchman, who was alarmed, went for the night doctor, who
witnessed the following scene. “The patient went to the staircase leading to
the nurses’ quarters, then suddenly turned round and walked towards the
wash-house. The door of that being closed, she then groped for a time and
Page 159
turned towards the women’s dormitory in which she had formerly slept. She
went up to the top of the house where this dormitory was, and when she got
on the landing, opened a window leading to the roof, went out of the
window, walked along the gutter, under the horrified eyes of the nurse who
followed her and who did not dare to speak to her, went in again by another
window and went down the stairs.” “It was at this moment that I saw her,”
said the night doctor; “she was walking noiselessly, her gait was automatic,
her arms hanging by her sides, a little bent, the head erect and fixed, her
hair disordered, her eyes wide open; she seemed like some strange
apparition.”164 This is obviously the case of a hysterical subject, who in a
normal condition was not accustomed to climb upon roofs and walk along
the gutters.
Another observation, reported by Charcot, related to a young man,
seventeen years old, the son of a large manufacturer, and of good address.
Tired out by working for his final examination, he had gone to bed early.
Some time later he rose from the bed in his college dormitory, went out by a
window, and without accident climbed on the roof and took a long and
dangerous walk along the gutters. He was awakened before any accident
occurred (Feinkind, p. 70).
A case observed by Dr. Mesnet and M. Mottet was still more interesting. A
lady thirty years old and extremely hysterical got out of bed in the night,
“dressed herself, completed her toilet without help, removed the furniture in
her way without stumbling against it. She was indifferent and idle by day,
but strenuous at night in performing the most varied acts. I have seen her
walking about in her rooms, opening doors, going down to the garden,
leaping on seats with the utmost agility, running about, in fact doing all
these things much better than in her waking hours, in which she got about
only slowly and with aid” (Feinkind, p. 84).
Horst has related an extraordinary incident which took place in the sixteenth
century. “A soldier walked in his sleep to a window, and with the help of a
rope climbed a high tower, secured a jackdaw’s nest with its young birds,
and regained his bed, where he remained asleep until the morning.”165
Unfortunately there are not sufficiently detailed facts regarding this
incident, and for fully described cases we must return to modern times. Dr.
Guinon has related one case in ample detail. A man thirty-four years of age,
by occupation an interpreter, was taken into hospital for hysterical attacks.
went up to the top of the house where this dormitory was, and when she got
on the landing, opened a window leading to the roof, went out of the
window, walked along the gutter, under the horrified eyes of the nurse who
followed her and who did not dare to speak to her, went in again by another
window and went down the stairs.” “It was at this moment that I saw her,”
said the night doctor; “she was walking noiselessly, her gait was automatic,
her arms hanging by her sides, a little bent, the head erect and fixed, her
hair disordered, her eyes wide open; she seemed like some strange
apparition.”164 This is obviously the case of a hysterical subject, who in a
normal condition was not accustomed to climb upon roofs and walk along
the gutters.
Another observation, reported by Charcot, related to a young man,
seventeen years old, the son of a large manufacturer, and of good address.
Tired out by working for his final examination, he had gone to bed early.
Some time later he rose from the bed in his college dormitory, went out by a
window, and without accident climbed on the roof and took a long and
dangerous walk along the gutters. He was awakened before any accident
occurred (Feinkind, p. 70).
A case observed by Dr. Mesnet and M. Mottet was still more interesting. A
lady thirty years old and extremely hysterical got out of bed in the night,
“dressed herself, completed her toilet without help, removed the furniture in
her way without stumbling against it. She was indifferent and idle by day,
but strenuous at night in performing the most varied acts. I have seen her
walking about in her rooms, opening doors, going down to the garden,
leaping on seats with the utmost agility, running about, in fact doing all
these things much better than in her waking hours, in which she got about
only slowly and with aid” (Feinkind, p. 84).
Horst has related an extraordinary incident which took place in the sixteenth
century. “A soldier walked in his sleep to a window, and with the help of a
rope climbed a high tower, secured a jackdaw’s nest with its young birds,
and regained his bed, where he remained asleep until the morning.”165
Unfortunately there are not sufficiently detailed facts regarding this
incident, and for fully described cases we must return to modern times. Dr.
Guinon has related one case in ample detail. A man thirty-four years of age,
by occupation an interpreter, was taken into hospital for hysterical attacks.
Page 160
“One night soon after he came under the care of the physicians, this patient,
towards one o’clock in the morning, suddenly arose from bed, threw open a
window and jumped across the sill into the courtyard of the hospital. The
attendants on duty ran after him, and saw him hurrying away, undressed and
carrying a pillow in his arms. He traversed a series of gardens and walks,
with the topography of which he was unacquainted, climbed a ladder and
got on the roof of the hydrotherapeutic establishment, up and down which
he proceeded to run with the greatest agility. Sometimes he stopped in his
flight and rocked the pillow he was carrying, kissing and soothing it as if it
were a child. Then he retraced the route he had taken.” On being questioned
next morning, he had not the faintest remembrance of his nocturnal exploit.
“A similar fit came on him five or six times” (Feinkind, p. 108).
The same patient, “after having turned over in bed several times, seized a
pillow and held it to his breast. He then got out of bed, and, in his
nightgown, ran through the dormitory to a door leading to the lavatories. He
opened the door, readily but with violence, and entered one of the closets.
Then, still holding the pillow against his chest with one arm, by a gymnastic
feat both difficult and dangerous, yet which he performed with the utmost
precision, using his feet and the free arm, he got hold of the edge of the
frame of an open window, through which he swung himself to the sill,
alighting on both feet, after which, preserving the pillow carefully from
contact or shocks, he jumped to the ground (the infirmary ward was on the
ground floor). He then ran quickly to the opposite corner of the courtyard,
passing the whole length of the great building at full speed, holding the
pillow carefully. By a path which led round the building, he reached a
corner where there was a tower supporting a great water-tank. A kind of
metallic ladder, placed almost vertically and with rounded steps, led up the
side of the tower to a sort of observation-landing which at one point was
adjacent to the edge of the roof of the bath-house.
“The patient set himself to climb this ladder without any hesitation, holding
on by his free hand and placing his naked feet on the rounded steps with
extreme precision. When he reached the nearest point to the roof of the
bath-house he leapt upon that, and at a running pace climbed the zinc roof
to the crest, looking round him from time to time to see if his imaginary
pursuers were near. He ran along the crest which was so narrow that his feet
had to be placed alternately on either side on the slopes of the steep-pitched
towards one o’clock in the morning, suddenly arose from bed, threw open a
window and jumped across the sill into the courtyard of the hospital. The
attendants on duty ran after him, and saw him hurrying away, undressed and
carrying a pillow in his arms. He traversed a series of gardens and walks,
with the topography of which he was unacquainted, climbed a ladder and
got on the roof of the hydrotherapeutic establishment, up and down which
he proceeded to run with the greatest agility. Sometimes he stopped in his
flight and rocked the pillow he was carrying, kissing and soothing it as if it
were a child. Then he retraced the route he had taken.” On being questioned
next morning, he had not the faintest remembrance of his nocturnal exploit.
“A similar fit came on him five or six times” (Feinkind, p. 108).
The same patient, “after having turned over in bed several times, seized a
pillow and held it to his breast. He then got out of bed, and, in his
nightgown, ran through the dormitory to a door leading to the lavatories. He
opened the door, readily but with violence, and entered one of the closets.
Then, still holding the pillow against his chest with one arm, by a gymnastic
feat both difficult and dangerous, yet which he performed with the utmost
precision, using his feet and the free arm, he got hold of the edge of the
frame of an open window, through which he swung himself to the sill,
alighting on both feet, after which, preserving the pillow carefully from
contact or shocks, he jumped to the ground (the infirmary ward was on the
ground floor). He then ran quickly to the opposite corner of the courtyard,
passing the whole length of the great building at full speed, holding the
pillow carefully. By a path which led round the building, he reached a
corner where there was a tower supporting a great water-tank. A kind of
metallic ladder, placed almost vertically and with rounded steps, led up the
side of the tower to a sort of observation-landing which at one point was
adjacent to the edge of the roof of the bath-house.
“The patient set himself to climb this ladder without any hesitation, holding
on by his free hand and placing his naked feet on the rounded steps with
extreme precision. When he reached the nearest point to the roof of the
bath-house he leapt upon that, and at a running pace climbed the zinc roof
to the crest, looking round him from time to time to see if his imaginary
pursuers were near. He ran along the crest which was so narrow that his feet
had to be placed alternately on either side on the slopes of the steep-pitched
Page 161
roof, a performance so dangerous that none of the officials would follow
him, and which none the less he performed with complete assurance and
without a single slip.
“When he reached the middle of the building he sat down on the crest of the
roof, leaning against a ventilating chimney. He then took the pillow which
he had been carrying carefully, placed it on his knees with a corner against
his shoulder, and began to rock it as if it were a child, crooning to it,
stroking it with his hand or with his cheek that he pressed gently against the
corner. From time to time his eyebrows contracted and his looks hardened,
and he gazed around him as if he were being pursued or watched, then gave
a growl of rage, and took to flight again, carrying the pillow on his
dangerous path. All the time he kept speaking, but we could not hear what
he said. He saw nothing that was not in his dream; he did not understand
when his name was called aloud; but he could hear, for at the slightest
sound near him he rushed off again as if his pursuers were upon him. This
episode lasted about two hours, during which he had climbed over all the
roofs in the vicinity, defying our pursuit of him” (Feinkind, pp. 106-112).
I could give other similar cases, but I think that I have shown sufficiently
that man, when in the condition of natural somnambulism, exhibits qualities
that he does not possess in the normal state, becoming strong, adroit, and a
good gymnast, like his anthropoid ancestors. The close resemblance
between the manœuvres of Martin’s gibbon, which I described earlier in
this chapter, and the dangerous exploits of some sleep walkers is most
striking.
The impulses to climb on roofs and poles, to run along in rain gutters, to
climb a tower to take a bird’s nest, are characteristic examples of the
instinctive actions of climbing animals, like the anthropoid apes. Dr.
Barth166 defines somnambulism as “a dream with exaltation of the memory
and automatic action of the nervous centres, without voluntary and
conscious control.” “The striking exaltation of the memory is the
dominating condition. The extreme exactness of the memory of places
displayed by the somnambulist makes us understand how he performs his
nocturnal wanderings, doing almost without the aid of his senses
numberless deeds of which he would be practically incapable in a waking
condition.” However, as such a patient performs new acts which he has
never accomplished before in his own individual life, we must suppose that
him, and which none the less he performed with complete assurance and
without a single slip.
“When he reached the middle of the building he sat down on the crest of the
roof, leaning against a ventilating chimney. He then took the pillow which
he had been carrying carefully, placed it on his knees with a corner against
his shoulder, and began to rock it as if it were a child, crooning to it,
stroking it with his hand or with his cheek that he pressed gently against the
corner. From time to time his eyebrows contracted and his looks hardened,
and he gazed around him as if he were being pursued or watched, then gave
a growl of rage, and took to flight again, carrying the pillow on his
dangerous path. All the time he kept speaking, but we could not hear what
he said. He saw nothing that was not in his dream; he did not understand
when his name was called aloud; but he could hear, for at the slightest
sound near him he rushed off again as if his pursuers were upon him. This
episode lasted about two hours, during which he had climbed over all the
roofs in the vicinity, defying our pursuit of him” (Feinkind, pp. 106-112).
I could give other similar cases, but I think that I have shown sufficiently
that man, when in the condition of natural somnambulism, exhibits qualities
that he does not possess in the normal state, becoming strong, adroit, and a
good gymnast, like his anthropoid ancestors. The close resemblance
between the manœuvres of Martin’s gibbon, which I described earlier in
this chapter, and the dangerous exploits of some sleep walkers is most
striking.
The impulses to climb on roofs and poles, to run along in rain gutters, to
climb a tower to take a bird’s nest, are characteristic examples of the
instinctive actions of climbing animals, like the anthropoid apes. Dr.
Barth166 defines somnambulism as “a dream with exaltation of the memory
and automatic action of the nervous centres, without voluntary and
conscious control.” “The striking exaltation of the memory is the
dominating condition. The extreme exactness of the memory of places
displayed by the somnambulist makes us understand how he performs his
nocturnal wanderings, doing almost without the aid of his senses
numberless deeds of which he would be practically incapable in a waking
condition.” However, as such a patient performs new acts which he has
never accomplished before in his own individual life, we must suppose that
Page 162
the exaltation of memory includes extremely ancient facts, dating perhaps
from the pre-human period. Man has inherited from his ancestors a number
of mechanisms of the brain, the activity of which is inhibited by restraints
which have been developed later. Just as man possesses mammary glands
which under ordinary conditions cannot secrete milk, so also, in his brain,
there are contained groups of cells which are inactive in the normal
condition, but, also, just as in some exceptional cases man and the males of
several species of mammals are able to give milk, so also in abnormal
conditions the atrophied mechanisms of other nervous centres begin to act.
The secretion of milk by males is a return to an extremely ancient condition
in which both sexes were able to nourish the young; so, also, the gymnastic
feats and the extraordinary strength of somnambulists are a return to a
normal condition much less remote from us than lactation in males.
It is curious to find that, in some cases, natural somnambulism is associated
with power to move the shell of the ear. I know two brothers, who, when
they were young, used to walk in their sleep in the most typical way. One of
them, a chemist, used to climb on a high cupboard, or simply walk about in
the room. The other brother, a sailor, in a fit of somnambulism, climbed to
the top mast of a sailing ship. These brothers, who were somnambulists, had
the cutaneous muscles extremely well developed and were able to move
their ears voluntarily.
In this case the abnormality was hereditary in the family, and the two
daughters of one of the brothers were also somnambulistic and had control
over the muscles of the ears. Here, then, is a case of the simultaneous
recurrence of two characters of our ancestors: mobility of the ear and agility
in gymnastic feats. M. Barth characterises the somnambulist as “a living
automaton in whom conscious will is for the time being destroyed.”
According to him, the somnambulist “acts at the suggestion of
circumstances, and what seem most extraordinary in what he does are in
reality instinctive reactions.” This description agrees well with my view that
in natural somnambulism the instincts of our pre-human ancestors are
awakened, instincts which under normal conditions are latent and
rudimentary.
Sometimes, under the stimulus of fear, the instinctive mechanism of
swimming is awakened in man. It would be extremely interesting to know if
from the pre-human period. Man has inherited from his ancestors a number
of mechanisms of the brain, the activity of which is inhibited by restraints
which have been developed later. Just as man possesses mammary glands
which under ordinary conditions cannot secrete milk, so also, in his brain,
there are contained groups of cells which are inactive in the normal
condition, but, also, just as in some exceptional cases man and the males of
several species of mammals are able to give milk, so also in abnormal
conditions the atrophied mechanisms of other nervous centres begin to act.
The secretion of milk by males is a return to an extremely ancient condition
in which both sexes were able to nourish the young; so, also, the gymnastic
feats and the extraordinary strength of somnambulists are a return to a
normal condition much less remote from us than lactation in males.
It is curious to find that, in some cases, natural somnambulism is associated
with power to move the shell of the ear. I know two brothers, who, when
they were young, used to walk in their sleep in the most typical way. One of
them, a chemist, used to climb on a high cupboard, or simply walk about in
the room. The other brother, a sailor, in a fit of somnambulism, climbed to
the top mast of a sailing ship. These brothers, who were somnambulists, had
the cutaneous muscles extremely well developed and were able to move
their ears voluntarily.
In this case the abnormality was hereditary in the family, and the two
daughters of one of the brothers were also somnambulistic and had control
over the muscles of the ears. Here, then, is a case of the simultaneous
recurrence of two characters of our ancestors: mobility of the ear and agility
in gymnastic feats. M. Barth characterises the somnambulist as “a living
automaton in whom conscious will is for the time being destroyed.”
According to him, the somnambulist “acts at the suggestion of
circumstances, and what seem most extraordinary in what he does are in
reality instinctive reactions.” This description agrees well with my view that
in natural somnambulism the instincts of our pre-human ancestors are
awakened, instincts which under normal conditions are latent and
rudimentary.
Sometimes, under the stimulus of fear, the instinctive mechanism of
swimming is awakened in man. It would be extremely interesting to know if
Page 163
a similar occurrence took place in somnambulists. I have been unable to
find in literature any sufficient facts upon this subject. I can quote only one
case, and that with all reserve, which was published in the article
“Somnambulism” in the Dictionnaire des Sciences Médicales. “It is related
that a somnambulist who took to swimming during one of his fits was
called by his name several times, and became so frightened when he awoke
that he was drowned.” It would be extremely interesting to collect more
numerous facts on the instincts shown by somnambulists.
I have given a good deal of attention to natural somnambulism with the idea
that I should find in it traits recalling those of the life of anthropoid apes. I
think that the extremely varied phenomena of hysteria could supply us with
other facts, useful in investigating the psycho-physiological history of man.
Perhaps some of the facts of so-called “lucidity” which are well established
could be explained as the awakening of special sensations atrophied in the
human race, but present in animals. It is known that in vertebrate anatomy
organs are found which have the structures of organs of sense, but which
are absent or quite rudimentary in the human body. On the other hand, it is
known that animals perceive some phenomena of the surrounding world,
for the perception of which man has no organs of sense. Fish, for instance,
appreciate gradations in the depth of water, birds and mammals have a
sense of orientation and can anticipate changes in the weather more exactly
than our meteorological science. When under the influence of hysteria, man
may possibly be able to recover these senses of our remote ancestors, and to
know things of which he is ignorant in the normal condition.
Hysteria is common to man and animals. Amongst the numerous
chimpanzees which I have owned, several have shown signs of hysteria.
Some, when they were in the slightest degree annoyed, lay on the ground,
screaming terribly, and rolling about like children in a fit of passion. One
young chimpanzee used to pull out its hair when it was in a fit of temper.
The view that hysteria is a relapse to the condition of our animal ancestors
is supported by the conception of hysterical phenomena, suggested by Dr.
Babinsky.167 This well-known neurologist thinks that “the phenomena of
hysteria have two special characters, the one being that they can be
reproduced by suggestion in some cases with the most complete fidelity,
and the other that they can disappear under the sole influence of
persuasion.” M. Babinsky thinks that “the hysteric patient is neither
find in literature any sufficient facts upon this subject. I can quote only one
case, and that with all reserve, which was published in the article
“Somnambulism” in the Dictionnaire des Sciences Médicales. “It is related
that a somnambulist who took to swimming during one of his fits was
called by his name several times, and became so frightened when he awoke
that he was drowned.” It would be extremely interesting to collect more
numerous facts on the instincts shown by somnambulists.
I have given a good deal of attention to natural somnambulism with the idea
that I should find in it traits recalling those of the life of anthropoid apes. I
think that the extremely varied phenomena of hysteria could supply us with
other facts, useful in investigating the psycho-physiological history of man.
Perhaps some of the facts of so-called “lucidity” which are well established
could be explained as the awakening of special sensations atrophied in the
human race, but present in animals. It is known that in vertebrate anatomy
organs are found which have the structures of organs of sense, but which
are absent or quite rudimentary in the human body. On the other hand, it is
known that animals perceive some phenomena of the surrounding world,
for the perception of which man has no organs of sense. Fish, for instance,
appreciate gradations in the depth of water, birds and mammals have a
sense of orientation and can anticipate changes in the weather more exactly
than our meteorological science. When under the influence of hysteria, man
may possibly be able to recover these senses of our remote ancestors, and to
know things of which he is ignorant in the normal condition.
Hysteria is common to man and animals. Amongst the numerous
chimpanzees which I have owned, several have shown signs of hysteria.
Some, when they were in the slightest degree annoyed, lay on the ground,
screaming terribly, and rolling about like children in a fit of passion. One
young chimpanzee used to pull out its hair when it was in a fit of temper.
The view that hysteria is a relapse to the condition of our animal ancestors
is supported by the conception of hysterical phenomena, suggested by Dr.
Babinsky.167 This well-known neurologist thinks that “the phenomena of
hysteria have two special characters, the one being that they can be
reproduced by suggestion in some cases with the most complete fidelity,
and the other that they can disappear under the sole influence of
persuasion.” M. Babinsky thinks that “the hysteric patient is neither
Page 164
unconscious nor completely conscious, but is in a state of special
consciousness.” In my opinion the latter condition corresponds to the state
of mind of our more or less remote ancestors.
Occasionally a man, under some sudden impulse, falls into a condition of
extreme violence, and, being unable to control himself, commits acts of
which he repents immediately afterwards. It is the custom to say that at
such times the brute has awakened in the man. This is more than a
metaphor. (Probably some nervous mechanism from a remote ancestor has
come into action, at the call of some stimulation.) As our anthropoid
ancestors and primitive man lived in tribes, it is natural that when men are
grouped together, certain savage instincts should awaken. In this connection
it is interesting to study the psychology of crowds. When man is surrounded
by a great many of his fellows, he becomes particularly responsive to
suggestion. This condition is characterised as follows by M. G. Le Bon,168
the author of a study on the psychology of crowds: “The most careful
observations seem to prove that an individual immerged for some length of
time in a crowd in action soon finds himself—either in consequence of the
magnetic influence given out by the crowd, or from some other cause of
which we are ignorant—in a special state, which much resembles the state
of fascination in which the hypnotised individual finds himself in the hands
of the hypnotiser. The activity of the brain being paralysed in the case of the
hypnotised subject, the latter becomes the slave of all the unconscious
activities of his spinal cord, which the hypnotiser directs at will. The
conscious personality has entirely vanished; will and discernment are lost.
All feelings and thoughts are bent in the direction determined by the
hypnotiser” (p. 11). Man, under the influence of the crowd, gets into a
condition like that of a hysterical patient and displays a state of mind
identical with that of our ancestors. “Moreover, by the mere fact that he
forms part of an organised crowd, a man descends several rungs in the
ladder of civilisation. Isolated, he may be a cultivated individual; in a
crowd, he is a barbarian—that is, a creature acting by instinct” (p. 13).
It is quite natural to find relics of our prehistoric past in all kinds of
hysterical phenomena. We could reach extremely interesting facts regarding
the tribal and sexual life of apes, if we tried to compare with them the
phenomena of human hysteria. The passionate gestures which are
characteristic of some hysterical cases could probably be explained in this
consciousness.” In my opinion the latter condition corresponds to the state
of mind of our more or less remote ancestors.
Occasionally a man, under some sudden impulse, falls into a condition of
extreme violence, and, being unable to control himself, commits acts of
which he repents immediately afterwards. It is the custom to say that at
such times the brute has awakened in the man. This is more than a
metaphor. (Probably some nervous mechanism from a remote ancestor has
come into action, at the call of some stimulation.) As our anthropoid
ancestors and primitive man lived in tribes, it is natural that when men are
grouped together, certain savage instincts should awaken. In this connection
it is interesting to study the psychology of crowds. When man is surrounded
by a great many of his fellows, he becomes particularly responsive to
suggestion. This condition is characterised as follows by M. G. Le Bon,168
the author of a study on the psychology of crowds: “The most careful
observations seem to prove that an individual immerged for some length of
time in a crowd in action soon finds himself—either in consequence of the
magnetic influence given out by the crowd, or from some other cause of
which we are ignorant—in a special state, which much resembles the state
of fascination in which the hypnotised individual finds himself in the hands
of the hypnotiser. The activity of the brain being paralysed in the case of the
hypnotised subject, the latter becomes the slave of all the unconscious
activities of his spinal cord, which the hypnotiser directs at will. The
conscious personality has entirely vanished; will and discernment are lost.
All feelings and thoughts are bent in the direction determined by the
hypnotiser” (p. 11). Man, under the influence of the crowd, gets into a
condition like that of a hysterical patient and displays a state of mind
identical with that of our ancestors. “Moreover, by the mere fact that he
forms part of an organised crowd, a man descends several rungs in the
ladder of civilisation. Isolated, he may be a cultivated individual; in a
crowd, he is a barbarian—that is, a creature acting by instinct” (p. 13).
It is quite natural to find relics of our prehistoric past in all kinds of
hysterical phenomena. We could reach extremely interesting facts regarding
the tribal and sexual life of apes, if we tried to compare with them the
phenomena of human hysteria. The passionate gestures which are
characteristic of some hysterical cases could probably be explained in this
Page 165
way quite simply, and the wild cries uttered by patients in acute hysteria
would be similarly explicable.
I think that just as anatomists seek for points of comparison between man
and animals, as palæontologists make excavations to discover the buried
remains of creatures intermediate between man and apes, so also,
psychologists and doctors should investigate the rudimentary psycho-
physical functions with the object of building up the history of the evolution
of our psychical life. It cannot be doubted that in this branch of science new
arguments would be found to support the already well founded theory of the
simian origin of the human race.
would be similarly explicable.
I think that just as anatomists seek for points of comparison between man
and animals, as palæontologists make excavations to discover the buried
remains of creatures intermediate between man and apes, so also,
psychologists and doctors should investigate the rudimentary psycho-
physical functions with the object of building up the history of the evolution
of our psychical life. It cannot be doubted that in this branch of science new
arguments would be found to support the already well founded theory of the
simian origin of the human race.
Page 166
PART VI
SOME POINTS IN THE HISTORY OF SOCIAL ANIMALS
I
THE INDIVIDUAL AND THE RACE
Problem of the species in the human race—Loss of individuality in the associations of
lower animals—Myxomycetes and Siphonophora—Individuality in Ascidians—Progress
in the development of the individual living in a society
In the following pages I shall try to reply to the criticism on The Nature of
Man that in that book I only considered the individual without thinking of
the interests of society or of the race. I have been reproached for having lost
sight of the truth that in the general course of evolution the interests of the
individual must yield to the higher interests of the community. It was
asserted, in fact, that by advising orthobiosis, that is to say, the most
complete cycle of human life, ending in extreme old age, I was suggesting
something to the detriment of humanity as a whole.
This objection rests on a misunderstanding which it will be interesting to
clear up. I think that the complete development of the individual not only
would not injure the community but would be of great advantage to it.
Moreover, we must not lose sight of the fact that the individual has rights
which must not be ignored.
In the attack on my theory many facts were brought forward which show
that in the animal and vegetable kingdoms the individual is always
sacrificed to the advantage of the race. There is no doubt as to this, and in
the course of this book I have given exact facts bearing on it. I instanced
plants such as the Agave and some Cryptogams which die as soon as they
have reproduced; I have also spoken of the small female round worms
(Nematoda) which are brutally torn in pieces and devoured by their
progeny. It would be difficult to find better cases of the sacrifice of the
individual to the species. The rule, however, does not apply to man, who, in
this respect, stands in a special position.
SOME POINTS IN THE HISTORY OF SOCIAL ANIMALS
I
THE INDIVIDUAL AND THE RACE
Problem of the species in the human race—Loss of individuality in the associations of
lower animals—Myxomycetes and Siphonophora—Individuality in Ascidians—Progress
in the development of the individual living in a society
In the following pages I shall try to reply to the criticism on The Nature of
Man that in that book I only considered the individual without thinking of
the interests of society or of the race. I have been reproached for having lost
sight of the truth that in the general course of evolution the interests of the
individual must yield to the higher interests of the community. It was
asserted, in fact, that by advising orthobiosis, that is to say, the most
complete cycle of human life, ending in extreme old age, I was suggesting
something to the detriment of humanity as a whole.
This objection rests on a misunderstanding which it will be interesting to
clear up. I think that the complete development of the individual not only
would not injure the community but would be of great advantage to it.
Moreover, we must not lose sight of the fact that the individual has rights
which must not be ignored.
In the attack on my theory many facts were brought forward which show
that in the animal and vegetable kingdoms the individual is always
sacrificed to the advantage of the race. There is no doubt as to this, and in
the course of this book I have given exact facts bearing on it. I instanced
plants such as the Agave and some Cryptogams which die as soon as they
have reproduced; I have also spoken of the small female round worms
(Nematoda) which are brutally torn in pieces and devoured by their
progeny. It would be difficult to find better cases of the sacrifice of the
individual to the species. The rule, however, does not apply to man, who, in
this respect, stands in a special position.
Page 167
Since the arrival of man, several species of animals have disappeared from
the earth. Man has played a large part in the destruction of the Moa
(Aepyornis) of Madagascar, the largest member of the class of birds. He
destroyed the Dodo of the Island of Mauritius and Steller’s sea cow
(Rhytina stelleri), a harmless relative of the Manatee, from the shores of the
Aleutian Archipelago. Man is about to cause the extinction of several
species of harmful carnivorous animals, such as the wolf and the bear, and
possibly it will not be long before automobiles have replaced the horse,
which would then become extremely rare. However, although he has
destroyed so many other species, man has taken good care of himself. The
progress already made by civilisation has considerably reduced our
mortality. Every year, a large number of young infants are kept alive by the
aid of hygiene and medicine. The decrease of war and of assassination has
also played a part in maintaining the race. The position which man has
acquired in the world makes it more likely that what we have to fear is too
great an increase of population, and although the theory of Malthus has not
been verified in all its details, it is still true that man could multiply on the
face of the earth too abundantly. It is already clear that almost in the
proportion that humanity stops the effusion of its blood in war, it tends to
limit the propagation of the race.
As the future of the species seems to be safe, it is natural to consider in the
first place that of the individual. In this respect the facts of general biology
are of special interest.
Man is not the only social animal on the earth. Long before his appearance
other living beings existed in organised societies. The splendid colonies of
Siphonophora float on the surface of the seas, whilst in the ocean depths
there are societies of corals of extraordinary variability, whilst again, on
land, many kinds of insects live in highly organised societies.
This social life has been developed without external assistance, and without
any code to regulate the conduct of the individuals united for a common
purpose.
It will be interesting to give a slight survey of the fundamental principles of
such societies; I intend to draw special attention to one of the essential
points in the societies of animals, hoping to elucidate the relations between
the individuals and society.
the earth. Man has played a large part in the destruction of the Moa
(Aepyornis) of Madagascar, the largest member of the class of birds. He
destroyed the Dodo of the Island of Mauritius and Steller’s sea cow
(Rhytina stelleri), a harmless relative of the Manatee, from the shores of the
Aleutian Archipelago. Man is about to cause the extinction of several
species of harmful carnivorous animals, such as the wolf and the bear, and
possibly it will not be long before automobiles have replaced the horse,
which would then become extremely rare. However, although he has
destroyed so many other species, man has taken good care of himself. The
progress already made by civilisation has considerably reduced our
mortality. Every year, a large number of young infants are kept alive by the
aid of hygiene and medicine. The decrease of war and of assassination has
also played a part in maintaining the race. The position which man has
acquired in the world makes it more likely that what we have to fear is too
great an increase of population, and although the theory of Malthus has not
been verified in all its details, it is still true that man could multiply on the
face of the earth too abundantly. It is already clear that almost in the
proportion that humanity stops the effusion of its blood in war, it tends to
limit the propagation of the race.
As the future of the species seems to be safe, it is natural to consider in the
first place that of the individual. In this respect the facts of general biology
are of special interest.
Man is not the only social animal on the earth. Long before his appearance
other living beings existed in organised societies. The splendid colonies of
Siphonophora float on the surface of the seas, whilst in the ocean depths
there are societies of corals of extraordinary variability, whilst again, on
land, many kinds of insects live in highly organised societies.
This social life has been developed without external assistance, and without
any code to regulate the conduct of the individuals united for a common
purpose.
It will be interesting to give a slight survey of the fundamental principles of
such societies; I intend to draw special attention to one of the essential
points in the societies of animals, hoping to elucidate the relations between
the individuals and society.
Page 168
In the organisation of human society the most difficult points are the extent
to which the society may encroach on the individual and the degree to
which the individual may preserve his rights and his independence.
Disputes on these have been interminable, and I do not propose to discuss
the theories according to which an individual must be sacrificed for the
good of the community to which he belongs. I shall limit myself to
reviewing the fate of the individuals in societies of beings much inferior to
man.
There are examples of societies composed of many individuals, even
amongst living things on the borderland between the animal and vegetable
kingdoms.
Fig. 21.—Isolated individuals of a Fig. 22.—Myxomycete individuals united to form a
Myxomycete. plasmodium.
(After Zopff.) (After Zopff.)
a, spore; b-f, escape of the zoospores.
There may be found in woods, on dead leaves or on decaying timber,
minute plants resembling tiny mushrooms. These are Myxomycetes, and the
visible portions are minute sacs filled with microscopical rounded bodies,
known as spores. When one of the spores is moistened, there emerges a
minute organism with a mobile appendage by which it can be impelled
through water. A drop of water on a leaf or on a fragment of timber may be
filled with numbers of these tiny swimming bodies (Fig. 21). Their free life
as individuals, however, is of brief duration. When they come into contact,
to which the society may encroach on the individual and the degree to
which the individual may preserve his rights and his independence.
Disputes on these have been interminable, and I do not propose to discuss
the theories according to which an individual must be sacrificed for the
good of the community to which he belongs. I shall limit myself to
reviewing the fate of the individuals in societies of beings much inferior to
man.
There are examples of societies composed of many individuals, even
amongst living things on the borderland between the animal and vegetable
kingdoms.
Fig. 21.—Isolated individuals of a Fig. 22.—Myxomycete individuals united to form a
Myxomycete. plasmodium.
(After Zopff.) (After Zopff.)
a, spore; b-f, escape of the zoospores.
There may be found in woods, on dead leaves or on decaying timber,
minute plants resembling tiny mushrooms. These are Myxomycetes, and the
visible portions are minute sacs filled with microscopical rounded bodies,
known as spores. When one of the spores is moistened, there emerges a
minute organism with a mobile appendage by which it can be impelled
through water. A drop of water on a leaf or on a fragment of timber may be
filled with numbers of these tiny swimming bodies (Fig. 21). Their free life
as individuals, however, is of brief duration. When they come into contact,
Page 169
their bodies fuse, forming a gelatinous mass which may be quite large (Fig.
22). This mass is called a plasmodium, and is composed of a living
substance which can move slowly over leaves and which exhibits streaming
movements in the interior, so that the whole resembles in some respects the
lava from a volcano.
The plasmodia may be regarded as societies in the constitution of which the
individuality of the members has been completely sacrificed. The ideal of
those philosophers who have urged that man should renounce his
individuality and merge himself in the community has been realised in the
fullest way at the lower end of the scale of life, at an epoch inconceivably
remote from the appearance of the human race.
Amongst animals, even the most lowly, there are no societies in which the
members are sacrificed so completely to the whole. Individuality is always
preserved to a greater or lesser extent. Consider the polyps, colonies of
which form reefs in the sea and may even become islands. These creatures
live in aggregations, the members of which are incapable of living an
independent life. They are united by living substance and resemble double
monsters, such as Doodica and Radica, who were so much talked of some
years ago when M. Doyen operated upon them. The peritoneal cavities of
these twins were in free communication, and the blood-vessels were united
so that the blood of the one passed freely into the body of the other. In
another double monster, the two Tscheck girls, Rosa and Josepha, the
intestinal tracts communicate, both leading to a common rectum. In these,
who are still alive, the peritoneum is joined and there is a single urethra.
In the case of the coral polyps, the fusion of the individuals of the colony is
nearly always much more complete. Each individual has its own mouth and
stomach, whilst the other organs cannot be assigned to individuals but must
be regarded as common to the whole.
In the swimming polyps or Siphonophora, the loss of individuality is still
more remarkable. These graceful and transparent creatures, sometimes large
in size, live in the sea and may appear on its surface in great numbers. They
possess many whip-like filaments provided with tentacles, swimming bells
and stomachs. There can be no doubt as to their colonial nature (Fig. 23),
but it is difficult to decide as to whether each piece of the colony, each
swimming bell, stomach and so forth, is to be regarded as an individual or
22). This mass is called a plasmodium, and is composed of a living
substance which can move slowly over leaves and which exhibits streaming
movements in the interior, so that the whole resembles in some respects the
lava from a volcano.
The plasmodia may be regarded as societies in the constitution of which the
individuality of the members has been completely sacrificed. The ideal of
those philosophers who have urged that man should renounce his
individuality and merge himself in the community has been realised in the
fullest way at the lower end of the scale of life, at an epoch inconceivably
remote from the appearance of the human race.
Amongst animals, even the most lowly, there are no societies in which the
members are sacrificed so completely to the whole. Individuality is always
preserved to a greater or lesser extent. Consider the polyps, colonies of
which form reefs in the sea and may even become islands. These creatures
live in aggregations, the members of which are incapable of living an
independent life. They are united by living substance and resemble double
monsters, such as Doodica and Radica, who were so much talked of some
years ago when M. Doyen operated upon them. The peritoneal cavities of
these twins were in free communication, and the blood-vessels were united
so that the blood of the one passed freely into the body of the other. In
another double monster, the two Tscheck girls, Rosa and Josepha, the
intestinal tracts communicate, both leading to a common rectum. In these,
who are still alive, the peritoneum is joined and there is a single urethra.
In the case of the coral polyps, the fusion of the individuals of the colony is
nearly always much more complete. Each individual has its own mouth and
stomach, whilst the other organs cannot be assigned to individuals but must
be regarded as common to the whole.
In the swimming polyps or Siphonophora, the loss of individuality is still
more remarkable. These graceful and transparent creatures, sometimes large
in size, live in the sea and may appear on its surface in great numbers. They
possess many whip-like filaments provided with tentacles, swimming bells
and stomachs. There can be no doubt as to their colonial nature (Fig. 23),
but it is difficult to decide as to whether each piece of the colony, each
swimming bell, stomach and so forth, is to be regarded as an individual or
Page 170
an organ, different zoologists having taken different
views on the question. One interpretation is that
colonial life has brought with it such modifications
that of each individual there remains only a single
organ. Some individuals have been reduced to simple
stomachs, attached to the central stem, whilst others
have lost all organs except that of locomotion which
has become one of the swimming bells of the colony.
Other zoologists, and I myself amongst them, think
that the Siphonophora are colonies of organs in which
there has been as yet practically no development of
individuality. A living chain of Siphonophora is simply
a number of organs such as stomachs, tentacles, Fig. 23.—One of the
swimming bells and so forth, united on a common Siphonophora.
stem. I need not discuss the disputed point further, for (After Chun.)
the only matter pertinent to my argument is that in the pn, pneumatic chamber;
Siphonophora the loss of individuality, the sacrifice of clh, swimming bells; stl,
the parts to the whole, is not so great as in the stolon.
Myxomycetes.
In support of my view, I must recall the small forms of Siphonophora
known as Eudoxia. These are detached pieces of the common trunk which
swim freely in the sea and have a remarkable structure (Fig. 24). Their
mobility is due to a bell provided with strong muscular fibres. The bell is a
portion of an individual which possesses organs of reproduction but which
is devoid of the means to capture or digest food. These two functions are
performed by a second individual which is closely united with the first. The
nutrient individual has a long tentacle by which the prey is captured, and a
capacious stomach in which it is digested. The products of digestion pass by
channels into the reproductive individual, carrying as it were a ready-made
blood. Eudoxia in fact is a double being composed of an individual
incapable of locomotion or of reproduction, but adapted for prehension and
digestion, and of a second individual which can reproduce and which is
mobile. Eudoxia is an association resembling that of the blind man and the
paralytic, in Florian’s fable.
views on the question. One interpretation is that
colonial life has brought with it such modifications
that of each individual there remains only a single
organ. Some individuals have been reduced to simple
stomachs, attached to the central stem, whilst others
have lost all organs except that of locomotion which
has become one of the swimming bells of the colony.
Other zoologists, and I myself amongst them, think
that the Siphonophora are colonies of organs in which
there has been as yet practically no development of
individuality. A living chain of Siphonophora is simply
a number of organs such as stomachs, tentacles, Fig. 23.—One of the
swimming bells and so forth, united on a common Siphonophora.
stem. I need not discuss the disputed point further, for (After Chun.)
the only matter pertinent to my argument is that in the pn, pneumatic chamber;
Siphonophora the loss of individuality, the sacrifice of clh, swimming bells; stl,
the parts to the whole, is not so great as in the stolon.
Myxomycetes.
In support of my view, I must recall the small forms of Siphonophora
known as Eudoxia. These are detached pieces of the common trunk which
swim freely in the sea and have a remarkable structure (Fig. 24). Their
mobility is due to a bell provided with strong muscular fibres. The bell is a
portion of an individual which possesses organs of reproduction but which
is devoid of the means to capture or digest food. These two functions are
performed by a second individual which is closely united with the first. The
nutrient individual has a long tentacle by which the prey is captured, and a
capacious stomach in which it is digested. The products of digestion pass by
channels into the reproductive individual, carrying as it were a ready-made
blood. Eudoxia in fact is a double being composed of an individual
incapable of locomotion or of reproduction, but adapted for prehension and
digestion, and of a second individual which can reproduce and which is
mobile. Eudoxia is an association resembling that of the blind man and the
paralytic, in Florian’s fable.
Page 171
Fig. 24.—Eudoxia. Fig. 25.—Botryllus colonies.
(After Chun.) o, mouth ; A, common cloaca.
Advance in the organisation of social animals is plainly incompatible with
complete loss of individuality, and this becomes the more apparent the
higher we reach in the scale of life. In the social Ascidians, each member
retains all the organs necessary to life. Animals of the genus Botryllus (Fig.
25), perhaps the most interesting of these Ascidians, occur in the form of
circular colonies. The individuals which compose the colony are grouped
radially around a common centre which is occupied by the cloaca. Each
individual has its own mouth and digestive tube, but the latter opens into a
cloaca, common to all the individuals, by which the excreta are voided.
There is, in fact, a single anus, as in the case of Rosa and Josepha which I
have just mentioned.
II
INSECT SOCIETIES
Social life of insects—Development and preservation of individuality in colonies of insects
—Division of labour and sacrifice of individuality in some insects
(After Chun.) o, mouth ; A, common cloaca.
Advance in the organisation of social animals is plainly incompatible with
complete loss of individuality, and this becomes the more apparent the
higher we reach in the scale of life. In the social Ascidians, each member
retains all the organs necessary to life. Animals of the genus Botryllus (Fig.
25), perhaps the most interesting of these Ascidians, occur in the form of
circular colonies. The individuals which compose the colony are grouped
radially around a common centre which is occupied by the cloaca. Each
individual has its own mouth and digestive tube, but the latter opens into a
cloaca, common to all the individuals, by which the excreta are voided.
There is, in fact, a single anus, as in the case of Rosa and Josepha which I
have just mentioned.
II
INSECT SOCIETIES
Social life of insects—Development and preservation of individuality in colonies of insects
—Division of labour and sacrifice of individuality in some insects
Page 172
Hitherto I have dealt with associations of animals the members of which
are linked by an actual material bond. In the insect world there are many
cases of highly developed colonies. But the organisation of insects is high,
and is incompatible with the existence of actual physical connection
between the members of the society.
In early stages of the development of the social instinct in bees, fully
formed and similar individuals join together with the object of securing the
safety of their individual lives. Sometimes they act together to drive away a
common enemy, sometimes, as in winter, they cling in a mass to maintain
their temperature. In such primitive societies, the young are not reared in
common. It is only in much more highly developed colonies, such as those
of some bees and wasps, and of ants and termites, that the chief object of
the common action is care of the progeny. Such an extreme development of
the colony is attained only by sacrificing the individuality of the members.
There is a far-reaching division of labour, so that the queens, for instance,
are mere machines for laying eggs. In hive-bees the queen can no longer
judge of what is good for the colony, her intellectual functions being
degenerate. She is enclosed in her cell and supported by the workers, who
see in her the future of the race. In times of want the worker-bees sacrifice
their own lives and give the queen the last remnants of the food-supply so
that she survives them. The males are incomplete individuals and are
tolerated only so long as they are required, after which the workers kill
them remorselessly.
The workers, which take such pains for the well-being of the hive, are
incomplete individuals. Their brains are well developed and they are well
equipped with organs for making wax and collecting food, but their
reproductive organs are reduced to mere vestiges incapable of fulfilling
their functions.
Here then is a case of loss of individual characters increasing with the
perfection of the colony. Amongst ants and termites, the social life of which
arose quite independently of that of bees, the same course of events has
been repeated. High intelligence and skill are confined to the workers, in
which the reproductive organs are atrophied. The soldiers have powerful
jaws used in defence of the camp, but they, too, are sexually incomplete.
The females and males, in which the reproductive organs have attained
are linked by an actual material bond. In the insect world there are many
cases of highly developed colonies. But the organisation of insects is high,
and is incompatible with the existence of actual physical connection
between the members of the society.
In early stages of the development of the social instinct in bees, fully
formed and similar individuals join together with the object of securing the
safety of their individual lives. Sometimes they act together to drive away a
common enemy, sometimes, as in winter, they cling in a mass to maintain
their temperature. In such primitive societies, the young are not reared in
common. It is only in much more highly developed colonies, such as those
of some bees and wasps, and of ants and termites, that the chief object of
the common action is care of the progeny. Such an extreme development of
the colony is attained only by sacrificing the individuality of the members.
There is a far-reaching division of labour, so that the queens, for instance,
are mere machines for laying eggs. In hive-bees the queen can no longer
judge of what is good for the colony, her intellectual functions being
degenerate. She is enclosed in her cell and supported by the workers, who
see in her the future of the race. In times of want the worker-bees sacrifice
their own lives and give the queen the last remnants of the food-supply so
that she survives them. The males are incomplete individuals and are
tolerated only so long as they are required, after which the workers kill
them remorselessly.
The workers, which take such pains for the well-being of the hive, are
incomplete individuals. Their brains are well developed and they are well
equipped with organs for making wax and collecting food, but their
reproductive organs are reduced to mere vestiges incapable of fulfilling
their functions.
Here then is a case of loss of individual characters increasing with the
perfection of the colony. Amongst ants and termites, the social life of which
arose quite independently of that of bees, the same course of events has
been repeated. High intelligence and skill are confined to the workers, in
which the reproductive organs are atrophied. The soldiers have powerful
jaws used in defence of the camp, but they, too, are sexually incomplete.
The females and males, in which the reproductive organs have attained
Page 173
huge proportions so that the bodies are little more than sacs containing the
sexual elements, have no intelligence and very little skill.
An extremely curious specialisation, consisting in the formation of honey-
bearing workers, occurs in some Mexican ants. Some of the workers of
these races absorb so much honey that their bodies become swollen honey-
bags. The limbs can no longer support the expanded body, and the insects,
reduced to immobility, do not quit the burrows. Normal life has become
impossible for these individuals, who soon die for the good of the
community. When the normal workers or the sexual individuals are hungry,
they approach the honey-bearers and take honey from their mouths. The
honey-bearers have become no more than animated
cupboards (Fig. 26).
The termites belong to quite another class of the group
Insecta, but in their case a similar sacrifice of the
individual to the state is practised. The females
become transformed to shapeless bags of eggs. They
Fig. 26.—A Honey-ant. cannot move, but remain secluded in the recesses of
(After Brehm.) the “ant”-hill, where they lay as many as 80,000 eggs
a day. The soldiers have become provided with jaws so
enormous that these unsexed insects can perform no function other than
defence of the colony.
The partial reduction of individuality in social insects never goes so far as
in the cases of the lower animals I have described. It may be stated as a
general rule that increase in the perfection of organisation brings with it a
more or less complete preservation of individuality in the members of a
community.
I shall now examine to what extent this law can be applied in the case of
man.
III
SOCIETY AND THE INDIVIDUAL IN THE HUMAN RACE
sexual elements, have no intelligence and very little skill.
An extremely curious specialisation, consisting in the formation of honey-
bearing workers, occurs in some Mexican ants. Some of the workers of
these races absorb so much honey that their bodies become swollen honey-
bags. The limbs can no longer support the expanded body, and the insects,
reduced to immobility, do not quit the burrows. Normal life has become
impossible for these individuals, who soon die for the good of the
community. When the normal workers or the sexual individuals are hungry,
they approach the honey-bearers and take honey from their mouths. The
honey-bearers have become no more than animated
cupboards (Fig. 26).
The termites belong to quite another class of the group
Insecta, but in their case a similar sacrifice of the
individual to the state is practised. The females
become transformed to shapeless bags of eggs. They
Fig. 26.—A Honey-ant. cannot move, but remain secluded in the recesses of
(After Brehm.) the “ant”-hill, where they lay as many as 80,000 eggs
a day. The soldiers have become provided with jaws so
enormous that these unsexed insects can perform no function other than
defence of the colony.
The partial reduction of individuality in social insects never goes so far as
in the cases of the lower animals I have described. It may be stated as a
general rule that increase in the perfection of organisation brings with it a
more or less complete preservation of individuality in the members of a
community.
I shall now examine to what extent this law can be applied in the case of
man.
III
SOCIETY AND THE INDIVIDUAL IN THE HUMAN RACE
Page 174
Human societies—Differentiation in the human race—Learned women—Habits of a bee,
Halictus quadricinctus—Collectivist theories—Criticisms by Herbert Spencer and
Nietzsche—Progress of individuality in the societies of higher beings
Social life is for the most part little developed amongst vertebrate animals.
The birds and fishes which live in communities present no organisation of
society even comparable with that found amongst insects. There is little
advance in this respect in the case of mammals, and it is not until we come
to man that highly organised societies are to be found. Man is the first
vertebrate to develop an organised social life. But, whilst in the insect
world, instincts are of supreme importance in the regulation of the
community, there is little instinctive action in human communities. The
consciousness of individuality, or egoism, is very powerful in human
beings, and perhaps for that reason our ancestors made little progress in the
development of social relations.
Anthropoid apes adhere in little groups or in families without any true
social organisation. Love of the neighbour, or altruism, appears to be a
recent and feeble human acquisition.
Although the organisation of human society is far advanced and division of
labour very complete, there is no differentiation of the individuals
comparable with what is found amongst insects. Although in animals so
different as Siphonophora, bees, wasps, and termites the development of the
community, proceeding along different lines, has brought into existence
non-sexual individuals, there is no trace of this specialisation amongst
human beings.
Certain abnormalities in the condition of the sexual organs are occasionally
found in men and women, but these cannot be compared with the
production of sexless individuals that has taken place amongst other social
creatures. I cannot accept the view that we are to see something analogous
to the case of worker bees in the prohibition of sexual relations imposed by
some religious systems on a certain number of individuals. But in any event
there is little importance in this occurrence, which is rapidly becoming
rarer.
In recent times, both in Europe and the United States of America, there has
been an active development of a femininist movement impelling women
towards higher education. Women, no longer content with the avocations of
Halictus quadricinctus—Collectivist theories—Criticisms by Herbert Spencer and
Nietzsche—Progress of individuality in the societies of higher beings
Social life is for the most part little developed amongst vertebrate animals.
The birds and fishes which live in communities present no organisation of
society even comparable with that found amongst insects. There is little
advance in this respect in the case of mammals, and it is not until we come
to man that highly organised societies are to be found. Man is the first
vertebrate to develop an organised social life. But, whilst in the insect
world, instincts are of supreme importance in the regulation of the
community, there is little instinctive action in human communities. The
consciousness of individuality, or egoism, is very powerful in human
beings, and perhaps for that reason our ancestors made little progress in the
development of social relations.
Anthropoid apes adhere in little groups or in families without any true
social organisation. Love of the neighbour, or altruism, appears to be a
recent and feeble human acquisition.
Although the organisation of human society is far advanced and division of
labour very complete, there is no differentiation of the individuals
comparable with what is found amongst insects. Although in animals so
different as Siphonophora, bees, wasps, and termites the development of the
community, proceeding along different lines, has brought into existence
non-sexual individuals, there is no trace of this specialisation amongst
human beings.
Certain abnormalities in the condition of the sexual organs are occasionally
found in men and women, but these cannot be compared with the
production of sexless individuals that has taken place amongst other social
creatures. I cannot accept the view that we are to see something analogous
to the case of worker bees in the prohibition of sexual relations imposed by
some religious systems on a certain number of individuals. But in any event
there is little importance in this occurrence, which is rapidly becoming
rarer.
In recent times, both in Europe and the United States of America, there has
been an active development of a femininist movement impelling women
towards higher education. Women, no longer content with the avocations of
Page 175
mother and housewife, have pressed into professions such as law and
medicine. There is a steady increase in the number of women who study at
the Universities, and countries like Germany, which have tried to exclude
women from higher studies, will soon have to yield before an irresistible
pressure.
Can we regard the results of this movement as analogous to the production
of sexless workers which has taken place amongst social insects? I think
not. It is undoubtedly true that a certain number of young women, who, for
some reason or other are unlikely to marry, devote themselves to scientific
study. In these cases, however, celibacy is the cause, not the result of the
increased intellectual activity. On the other hand, it must be remembered
that many women students of science eventually marry. In St. Petersburg,
for instance, there were 1,091 women in the Medical School; of these 80
were already married and 19 were widows. Of the remaining 992, 436 or 44
per cent. married during the course of their studies.
Observation of the femininist movement, which has lasted for more than
forty years, shows that in most cases there is no tendency towards the
formation of individuals resembling the infertile worker insects. Most lady
doctors and learned women would like nothing better than to be the
founders of a family. Even the women who have been most distinguished in
the scientific world are no exception to the rule. In this relation it is very
interesting to follow the details of the life of Sophie Kowalevsky, one of the
most notable of learned women. In her youth, when she began to study
mathematics, she would not admit that feelings of love had any importance.
Later on, however, when she felt herself growing old, these sentiments
awoke in her to such an extent that on the day when the prize of the
Academy of Sciences was bestowed on her, she wrote to one of her friends,
“I am getting innumerable letters of congratulation, but by the strange irony
of fate, I have never felt so unhappy.”
The cause of this discontent reveals itself in the words which she addressed
to her most intimate woman friend. “Why is it,” she said, “that no one loves
me? I could give more than most women, and while the most ordinary
women are loved, as for me, I am not loved.”169
It is, in fact, impossible to regard the celibacy of persons devoted to religion
or to scientific studies as the beginning of a special organisation analogous
medicine. There is a steady increase in the number of women who study at
the Universities, and countries like Germany, which have tried to exclude
women from higher studies, will soon have to yield before an irresistible
pressure.
Can we regard the results of this movement as analogous to the production
of sexless workers which has taken place amongst social insects? I think
not. It is undoubtedly true that a certain number of young women, who, for
some reason or other are unlikely to marry, devote themselves to scientific
study. In these cases, however, celibacy is the cause, not the result of the
increased intellectual activity. On the other hand, it must be remembered
that many women students of science eventually marry. In St. Petersburg,
for instance, there were 1,091 women in the Medical School; of these 80
were already married and 19 were widows. Of the remaining 992, 436 or 44
per cent. married during the course of their studies.
Observation of the femininist movement, which has lasted for more than
forty years, shows that in most cases there is no tendency towards the
formation of individuals resembling the infertile worker insects. Most lady
doctors and learned women would like nothing better than to be the
founders of a family. Even the women who have been most distinguished in
the scientific world are no exception to the rule. In this relation it is very
interesting to follow the details of the life of Sophie Kowalevsky, one of the
most notable of learned women. In her youth, when she began to study
mathematics, she would not admit that feelings of love had any importance.
Later on, however, when she felt herself growing old, these sentiments
awoke in her to such an extent that on the day when the prize of the
Academy of Sciences was bestowed on her, she wrote to one of her friends,
“I am getting innumerable letters of congratulation, but by the strange irony
of fate, I have never felt so unhappy.”
The cause of this discontent reveals itself in the words which she addressed
to her most intimate woman friend. “Why is it,” she said, “that no one loves
me? I could give more than most women, and while the most ordinary
women are loved, as for me, I am not loved.”169
It is, in fact, impossible to regard the celibacy of persons devoted to religion
or to scientific studies as the beginning of a special organisation analogous
Page 176
to that of worker bees.
However, it is still probable that in the human race a special differentiation
has been established for the accomplishment of different and essential
functions.
The organisation of human societies has certainly not followed the path by
which social insects attained the formation of sexless individuals. It much
more closely resembles what has taken place in some isolated animal types.
A solitary bee, named Halictus quadricinctus (Fig. 27), is characterised by
the fact that the female does not die when she has laid her last eggs, as
generally happens amongst insects, but remains alive to cherish her
offspring. This final portion of her life does not last long, and the bee
cannot play the prominent part of governess in a society of insects
organised by this specialisation of elderly females. In the
human race the individual life lasts longer and a division of
labour takes place in the fashion suggested by Halictus
quadricinctus.
An ordinary woman ceases to be fertile at between forty and
Fig. 27.—
fifty years old, that is to say, at a time when, according to
Halictus
statistics, she has still on the average twenty years to live.
quadricinctus.
During this long period, she can perform an extremely useful
(After Buffon.)
function in society, a function resembling that of the old
mothers of Halictus quadricinctus, and consisting chiefly in
the bringing up and education of the children. Who does not know the
extraordinary devotion of grandmothers, and, as a general rule, of old
women, who are extremely useful in bringing up children. And none the
less, it must not be forgotten that, actually, old age begins too soon, that it is
not what it ought to be under normal conditions, and that human life itself
does not last nearly so long as it ought to do in ideal conditions. We may
predict that when science occupies the preponderating place in human
society that it ought to have, and when knowledge of hygiene is more
advanced, human life will become much longer and the part of old people
will become much more important than it is to-day.
The members of human society are not divided into sexual and neuter
individuals as amongst insects, but the active life of every individual can be
divided into two periods, the first one of productive activity, and the second
However, it is still probable that in the human race a special differentiation
has been established for the accomplishment of different and essential
functions.
The organisation of human societies has certainly not followed the path by
which social insects attained the formation of sexless individuals. It much
more closely resembles what has taken place in some isolated animal types.
A solitary bee, named Halictus quadricinctus (Fig. 27), is characterised by
the fact that the female does not die when she has laid her last eggs, as
generally happens amongst insects, but remains alive to cherish her
offspring. This final portion of her life does not last long, and the bee
cannot play the prominent part of governess in a society of insects
organised by this specialisation of elderly females. In the
human race the individual life lasts longer and a division of
labour takes place in the fashion suggested by Halictus
quadricinctus.
An ordinary woman ceases to be fertile at between forty and
Fig. 27.—
fifty years old, that is to say, at a time when, according to
Halictus
statistics, she has still on the average twenty years to live.
quadricinctus.
During this long period, she can perform an extremely useful
(After Buffon.)
function in society, a function resembling that of the old
mothers of Halictus quadricinctus, and consisting chiefly in
the bringing up and education of the children. Who does not know the
extraordinary devotion of grandmothers, and, as a general rule, of old
women, who are extremely useful in bringing up children. And none the
less, it must not be forgotten that, actually, old age begins too soon, that it is
not what it ought to be under normal conditions, and that human life itself
does not last nearly so long as it ought to do in ideal conditions. We may
predict that when science occupies the preponderating place in human
society that it ought to have, and when knowledge of hygiene is more
advanced, human life will become much longer and the part of old people
will become much more important than it is to-day.
The members of human society are not divided into sexual and neuter
individuals as amongst insects, but the active life of every individual can be
divided into two periods, the first one of productive activity, and the second
Page 177
of sterility but none the less devoted to work useful to the community. The
essential difference between the two cases may be reduced to the contrast
that whilst the individuals of which animal societies are composed are
structurally incomplete, in human societies the individual preserves his
integrity.
We come, then, to the result that the more highly organised a social being
may be, so also the more highly developed is his individuality. It follows
that amongst the theories which seek to control social life, those are the best
which leave a field sufficiently wide and free for the development of
individual initiative. The ideal which has been so often advocated and
according to which the individual is to be sacrificed as completely as
possible to society, cannot be regarded as in harmony with the general law
of organic associations. Special conditions exist in social life in which great
sacrifices are inevitable, but such an arrangement cannot be considered as
general and permanent. We may predict that the more human beings
succeed in advancing communal life, the fewer cases there will be in which
the individual has to be sacrificed.
In the hope of subduing the egoism rooted in human nature, moralists have
preached renunciation of individual happiness and the need of
subordinating it to the good of the community. Very often such doctrine has
borne little fruit, but there are cases where it has been embraced with such
ardour that men and, still more, young women have been led to sacrifice
their well-being for what they have taken to be the common good. However
it may involve self-abnegation, there has been continued insistence on the
duty of sacrificing the individual to the community.
The existing great inequalities in the distribution of wealth have revived
doctrines the object of which is to redress such injustice. For more than a
century, different forms of socialism have claimed to formulate rules for the
amelioration of mankind. They agree in a verdict against existing
conditions, but follow different paths in their proposals for the reformation
of society. The varieties of socialism are so numerous that it is difficult even
to define the word. Although collectivist theories have lost much of their
early thoroughness, they are still far from admitting the just claims of the
individuals constituting the society. At socialist assemblies and congresses
the resolutions adopted frequently proclaim aggressively the sacrifice of the
rights of the individual. The members of one socialist party have been seen
essential difference between the two cases may be reduced to the contrast
that whilst the individuals of which animal societies are composed are
structurally incomplete, in human societies the individual preserves his
integrity.
We come, then, to the result that the more highly organised a social being
may be, so also the more highly developed is his individuality. It follows
that amongst the theories which seek to control social life, those are the best
which leave a field sufficiently wide and free for the development of
individual initiative. The ideal which has been so often advocated and
according to which the individual is to be sacrificed as completely as
possible to society, cannot be regarded as in harmony with the general law
of organic associations. Special conditions exist in social life in which great
sacrifices are inevitable, but such an arrangement cannot be considered as
general and permanent. We may predict that the more human beings
succeed in advancing communal life, the fewer cases there will be in which
the individual has to be sacrificed.
In the hope of subduing the egoism rooted in human nature, moralists have
preached renunciation of individual happiness and the need of
subordinating it to the good of the community. Very often such doctrine has
borne little fruit, but there are cases where it has been embraced with such
ardour that men and, still more, young women have been led to sacrifice
their well-being for what they have taken to be the common good. However
it may involve self-abnegation, there has been continued insistence on the
duty of sacrificing the individual to the community.
The existing great inequalities in the distribution of wealth have revived
doctrines the object of which is to redress such injustice. For more than a
century, different forms of socialism have claimed to formulate rules for the
amelioration of mankind. They agree in a verdict against existing
conditions, but follow different paths in their proposals for the reformation
of society. The varieties of socialism are so numerous that it is difficult even
to define the word. Although collectivist theories have lost much of their
early thoroughness, they are still far from admitting the just claims of the
individuals constituting the society. At socialist assemblies and congresses
the resolutions adopted frequently proclaim aggressively the sacrifice of the
rights of the individual. The members of one socialist party have been seen
Page 178
refusing the collaboration of newspapers which are not the official organs
of the party, or declining any co-operation with a government they have
proscribed. In strikes organised by socialists, work is forbidden to men who
ardently desire it. Recently printers have refused to set up newspapers the
opinions of which they did not share, and even doctors have been known to
decline to treat those belonging to another political party.
It is no new charge against collectivists that they would encroach too much
on individual liberty. They reply that “in social-democratic society of the
future, tyranny and oppression will be impossible. The secret of the bond
will reside in a discipline totally different from the inanimate obedience of
the soldier, a discipline depending on a willing submission of the individual
to the group because of the common object.”170 But such discipline and
submission may go so far that the conscience of the individual is seriously
offended. And so amongst the socialists themselves there has arisen a small
group which declines to accept this submergence of the individual in the
whole. This group is composed of anarchists, who, in the name of liberty
and the individual, attack the property and sometimes the lives of their
opponents.
It appears that there has been a notable evolution of collectivist theories in
the century or more in which the abolition of human misery has been an
accepted problem. Whilst there was formerly advocated the total abolition
of private property and the establishment of phalansteries for communal
life, at the present time the demand is limited to the nationalisation of the
means of production, leaving housing and food to be provided by individual
property.171
Through a publication, of M. Kautsky, one of their best known
representatives, the social democrats have announced that “the
nationalisation of the land does not necessarily bring with it the abolition of
private dwellings. The customary attachment of the dwelling to agricultural
employment will cease, but there is no reason why the peasants’ houses
should become collective property.” “Modern socialism does not exclude
individual property in food. One of the most important, perhaps the most
important factor, in making human life happy and adding to its pleasures is
the possible attainment of a private house. Collective ownership of the land
does not exclude this.” It is very difficult to separate house and garden,
especially from the point of view of considering the pleasures of life. A
of the party, or declining any co-operation with a government they have
proscribed. In strikes organised by socialists, work is forbidden to men who
ardently desire it. Recently printers have refused to set up newspapers the
opinions of which they did not share, and even doctors have been known to
decline to treat those belonging to another political party.
It is no new charge against collectivists that they would encroach too much
on individual liberty. They reply that “in social-democratic society of the
future, tyranny and oppression will be impossible. The secret of the bond
will reside in a discipline totally different from the inanimate obedience of
the soldier, a discipline depending on a willing submission of the individual
to the group because of the common object.”170 But such discipline and
submission may go so far that the conscience of the individual is seriously
offended. And so amongst the socialists themselves there has arisen a small
group which declines to accept this submergence of the individual in the
whole. This group is composed of anarchists, who, in the name of liberty
and the individual, attack the property and sometimes the lives of their
opponents.
It appears that there has been a notable evolution of collectivist theories in
the century or more in which the abolition of human misery has been an
accepted problem. Whilst there was formerly advocated the total abolition
of private property and the establishment of phalansteries for communal
life, at the present time the demand is limited to the nationalisation of the
means of production, leaving housing and food to be provided by individual
property.171
Through a publication, of M. Kautsky, one of their best known
representatives, the social democrats have announced that “the
nationalisation of the land does not necessarily bring with it the abolition of
private dwellings. The customary attachment of the dwelling to agricultural
employment will cease, but there is no reason why the peasants’ houses
should become collective property.” “Modern socialism does not exclude
individual property in food. One of the most important, perhaps the most
important factor, in making human life happy and adding to its pleasures is
the possible attainment of a private house. Collective ownership of the land
does not exclude this.” It is very difficult to separate house and garden,
especially from the point of view of considering the pleasures of life. A
Page 179
garden furnishes the opportunity for endless improvements, many of which
cannot be separated from the idea of individual property. The concessions
which collectivists have been compelled to make show conclusively the
importance of private property.
Notwithstanding such modifications, many voices have been raised against
the prospect of the socialisation of the means of production and the
concomitant limitations of individual enterprise. The great English
philosopher, Herbert Spencer,172 against whom narrowness of view or
conservatism could be urged, energetically attacked collectivist doctrines as
tending to reduce human individuality to a dead level. By a series of cogent
instances, he showed the evil results of the best intentioned efforts to
equalise opportunities and to abolish poverty. He foretold that slavery
would be the real outcome if the State interfered too much in spheres that
ought to be left to individual enterprise. He believed that the institution of a
collectivist State would bring great dangers.
Nietzsche has attacked socialism with his customary exaggeration.
“Socialism,”173 he wrote, “is the fanatical younger brother of dying
despotism, whose goods he wishes to inherit; his efforts are, in the deepest
sense of the word, reactionary. He wishes a wealth of power in the State
greater than despotism ever enjoyed, but he goes beyond all the past
inasmuch as he strives absolutely to stifle the individual; for him the
individual is a useless efflorescence of nature to be tamed into a useful
organ of the community.” Further, “Socialism at least teaches brutally and
convincingly the danger of concentrating power in the State, for it is a
covert attack on the State itself. When its harsh voice raises the war-cry ‘Let
the State control as much as possible,’ the cry will at first become louder;
but soon another phrase will grow equally clamant, ‘Let the State control as
little as possible.’”
It is most probable that no shade of socialism will be able to solve the
problem of social life with a sufficient respect for the maintenance of
individual liberty. None the less the progress of human knowledge will
inevitably bring about a great levelling of human fortunes. Intellectual
culture will lead men to give up many things that are superfluous or even
harmful, and that are still thought indispensable by most people. The
conceptions that the greatest good fortune consists in the complete
evolution of the normal cycle of human life and that this goal can be
cannot be separated from the idea of individual property. The concessions
which collectivists have been compelled to make show conclusively the
importance of private property.
Notwithstanding such modifications, many voices have been raised against
the prospect of the socialisation of the means of production and the
concomitant limitations of individual enterprise. The great English
philosopher, Herbert Spencer,172 against whom narrowness of view or
conservatism could be urged, energetically attacked collectivist doctrines as
tending to reduce human individuality to a dead level. By a series of cogent
instances, he showed the evil results of the best intentioned efforts to
equalise opportunities and to abolish poverty. He foretold that slavery
would be the real outcome if the State interfered too much in spheres that
ought to be left to individual enterprise. He believed that the institution of a
collectivist State would bring great dangers.
Nietzsche has attacked socialism with his customary exaggeration.
“Socialism,”173 he wrote, “is the fanatical younger brother of dying
despotism, whose goods he wishes to inherit; his efforts are, in the deepest
sense of the word, reactionary. He wishes a wealth of power in the State
greater than despotism ever enjoyed, but he goes beyond all the past
inasmuch as he strives absolutely to stifle the individual; for him the
individual is a useless efflorescence of nature to be tamed into a useful
organ of the community.” Further, “Socialism at least teaches brutally and
convincingly the danger of concentrating power in the State, for it is a
covert attack on the State itself. When its harsh voice raises the war-cry ‘Let
the State control as much as possible,’ the cry will at first become louder;
but soon another phrase will grow equally clamant, ‘Let the State control as
little as possible.’”
It is most probable that no shade of socialism will be able to solve the
problem of social life with a sufficient respect for the maintenance of
individual liberty. None the less the progress of human knowledge will
inevitably bring about a great levelling of human fortunes. Intellectual
culture will lead men to give up many things that are superfluous or even
harmful, and that are still thought indispensable by most people. The
conceptions that the greatest good fortune consists in the complete
evolution of the normal cycle of human life and that this goal can be
Page 180
reached most easily by plain and sober habits will convince men of the folly
of much of the luxury that now shortens human existence. Whilst the rich
will choose a simpler mode of life and the poor will be able to live better,
none the less, private property, acquired or inherited, may be maintained.
Evolution must be gradual and much effort and new knowledge is required.
Sociology, a new-born science, must learn of biology, her older sister.
Biology teaches us that in proportion that the organisation becomes more
complex, the consciousness of individuality develops, until a point is
reached at which individuality cannot be sacrificed to the community.
Amongst low creatures such as Myxomycetes and Siphonophora, the
individuals disappear wholly or almost wholly in the community; but the
sacrifice is small, as in these creatures the consciousness of individuality
has not appeared. Social insects are in a stage intermediate between that of
the lower animals and man. It is only in man that the individual has
definitely acquired consciousness, and for that reason a satisfactory social
organisation cannot sacrifice it on pretext of the common good. To this
conclusion the study of the social evolution of living beings leads me.
It is plain that the study of human individuality is a necessary step in the
organisation of the social life of human beings.
of much of the luxury that now shortens human existence. Whilst the rich
will choose a simpler mode of life and the poor will be able to live better,
none the less, private property, acquired or inherited, may be maintained.
Evolution must be gradual and much effort and new knowledge is required.
Sociology, a new-born science, must learn of biology, her older sister.
Biology teaches us that in proportion that the organisation becomes more
complex, the consciousness of individuality develops, until a point is
reached at which individuality cannot be sacrificed to the community.
Amongst low creatures such as Myxomycetes and Siphonophora, the
individuals disappear wholly or almost wholly in the community; but the
sacrifice is small, as in these creatures the consciousness of individuality
has not appeared. Social insects are in a stage intermediate between that of
the lower animals and man. It is only in man that the individual has
definitely acquired consciousness, and for that reason a satisfactory social
organisation cannot sacrifice it on pretext of the common good. To this
conclusion the study of the social evolution of living beings leads me.
It is plain that the study of human individuality is a necessary step in the
organisation of the social life of human beings.
Page 181
PART VII
PESSIMISM AND OPTIMISM
I
PREVALENCE OF PESSIMISM
Oriental origin of pessimism—Pessimistic poets—Byron—Leopardi—Poushkin—
Lermontoff—Pessimism and suicide
In the attempt to formulate a pessimistic theory of human nature, we are
naturally led to ask why it is that so many famous men have come to a
purely pessimistic conception of human life.
Pessimism, although it has been most prominent in modern times, is
extremely old. Everyone knows the pessimistic wail of Ecclesiastes, written
nearly ten centuries before our era: “Vanity of Vanities, all is vanity.”
Solomon, the supposed author, states that he “hated life, because the work
that is wrought under the sun is grievous unto me, for all is vanity and
vexation of spirit” (Eccl. ii., 17).
Buddha raised pessimism to the rank of a doctrine. All life seemed to him
sorrow. “Birth is sorrow, old age is sorrow, disease is sorrow, union with
one whom we do not love is sorrow, separation from one whom we love is
sorrow, not to gratify desire is sorrow, in short, our five bonds with the
things of the earth are sorrow.”174 This Buddhistic pessimism has been the
source of most of the modern pessimistic theories.
Pessimism arose in the East and was much in vogue in India even apart
from Buddhism. In the poems known under the name of Bhartrihari, and
dating from the beginning of the Christian era, human life has been
commiserated in the following fashion. “One hundred years are the limit of
the life of man; night takes half of them, half of the other half is childhood
and old age, the rest is filled with diseases, with separations and the
misfortunes that come from them, with working for others and with wasting
one’s time. Where can happiness be found in an existence most like to the
PESSIMISM AND OPTIMISM
I
PREVALENCE OF PESSIMISM
Oriental origin of pessimism—Pessimistic poets—Byron—Leopardi—Poushkin—
Lermontoff—Pessimism and suicide
In the attempt to formulate a pessimistic theory of human nature, we are
naturally led to ask why it is that so many famous men have come to a
purely pessimistic conception of human life.
Pessimism, although it has been most prominent in modern times, is
extremely old. Everyone knows the pessimistic wail of Ecclesiastes, written
nearly ten centuries before our era: “Vanity of Vanities, all is vanity.”
Solomon, the supposed author, states that he “hated life, because the work
that is wrought under the sun is grievous unto me, for all is vanity and
vexation of spirit” (Eccl. ii., 17).
Buddha raised pessimism to the rank of a doctrine. All life seemed to him
sorrow. “Birth is sorrow, old age is sorrow, disease is sorrow, union with
one whom we do not love is sorrow, separation from one whom we love is
sorrow, not to gratify desire is sorrow, in short, our five bonds with the
things of the earth are sorrow.”174 This Buddhistic pessimism has been the
source of most of the modern pessimistic theories.
Pessimism arose in the East and was much in vogue in India even apart
from Buddhism. In the poems known under the name of Bhartrihari, and
dating from the beginning of the Christian era, human life has been
commiserated in the following fashion. “One hundred years are the limit of
the life of man; night takes half of them, half of the other half is childhood
and old age, the rest is filled with diseases, with separations and the
misfortunes that come from them, with working for others and with wasting
one’s time. Where can happiness be found in an existence most like to the
Page 182
bubbles in broken water?” “Man’s health is destroyed by every kind of care
and disease. When fortune comes to him, evil follows as if by an open door.
Death takes all human beings, one after the other, and they can offer no
resistance to their fate. What is there assured amongst all that the mighty
Brahma has created?”175
Pessimistic theories spread from the Asiatic East to Egypt and Europe.
Three centuries before the Christian era, there arose the philosophy of
Hegesias, which maintained that experience was generally deceptive and
that enjoyment was quickly followed by satiety and disgust. According to
him, the sum of pain surpassed the sum of pleasure in life, so that happiness
was unattainable, and in reality never existed. It was vain to seek pleasure
and happiness, as these could not be realised. It was better to try to be
indifferent, dulling feeling and desire. In fact, life was no better than death,
and it was often preferable to end it by suicide. Hegesias was called
Pisithanatos, the adviser of death. “Listeners thronged around him, his
doctrine spread rapidly, and his disciples, persuaded by his voice, gave
themselves to death. Ptolemy was perturbed by it, and fearing that the
dislike of life would become contagious, closed the school of Hegesias and
exiled its master.”176
The pessimistic tendency sometimes appears in the writings of many Greek
and Latin philosophers and poets. Seneca wrote: “The spectacle of human
life is lamentable. New misfortunes overwhelm you before you have freed
yourself from the old ones.”177
It is in modern days, however, that there has been the greatest spread of
pessimism.
Besides the philosophical theories of the last century, those of
Schopenhauer, von Hartmann and Mailaender, which I discussed
sufficiently in The Nature of Man, poets have formulated a pessimistic view
of life. Even Voltaire was a pessimist in the following lines:
and disease. When fortune comes to him, evil follows as if by an open door.
Death takes all human beings, one after the other, and they can offer no
resistance to their fate. What is there assured amongst all that the mighty
Brahma has created?”175
Pessimistic theories spread from the Asiatic East to Egypt and Europe.
Three centuries before the Christian era, there arose the philosophy of
Hegesias, which maintained that experience was generally deceptive and
that enjoyment was quickly followed by satiety and disgust. According to
him, the sum of pain surpassed the sum of pleasure in life, so that happiness
was unattainable, and in reality never existed. It was vain to seek pleasure
and happiness, as these could not be realised. It was better to try to be
indifferent, dulling feeling and desire. In fact, life was no better than death,
and it was often preferable to end it by suicide. Hegesias was called
Pisithanatos, the adviser of death. “Listeners thronged around him, his
doctrine spread rapidly, and his disciples, persuaded by his voice, gave
themselves to death. Ptolemy was perturbed by it, and fearing that the
dislike of life would become contagious, closed the school of Hegesias and
exiled its master.”176
The pessimistic tendency sometimes appears in the writings of many Greek
and Latin philosophers and poets. Seneca wrote: “The spectacle of human
life is lamentable. New misfortunes overwhelm you before you have freed
yourself from the old ones.”177
It is in modern days, however, that there has been the greatest spread of
pessimism.
Besides the philosophical theories of the last century, those of
Schopenhauer, von Hartmann and Mailaender, which I discussed
sufficiently in The Nature of Man, poets have formulated a pessimistic view
of life. Even Voltaire was a pessimist in the following lines:
Page 183
Alas! what are the course and the goal of life?
Only follies and then the darkness.
Oh Jupiter! in creating us you made
A heartless jest.
In The Nature of Man I described Byron’s expression of his conception of
the evils of human life. Soon after the death of the great English poet, a
celebrated Italian poet, Giacomo Leopardi, sounded a note of abandoned
pessimism.
Here are words which he addressed to his own heart178: “Be quiet for ever,
you have beaten enough, nothing is worthy of your beating and the earth is
not worthy of your sighs. Life is nothing but bitterness and weariness, there
is nothing else in it. The world is nothing but mire. Repose from now
onwards. Be in despair for ever. Destiny has given us nothing but death.
Despise henceforth yourself and nature, and the shameful concealed power
which decrees the ruin of all and the infinite variety of all.”
Leopardi makes his readers witnesses of his distraction and his grief: “I
shall study the blind truth”—he wrote in a poem dedicated to Charles
Pépoli—“I shall study the blind fates of things mortal and immortal. Why
humanity came into existence, and was burdened with pain and sorrow, to
what final end destiny and nature are driving it, for whose pleasure or
advantage is our great pain, what order, what laws rule this mysterious
universe which wise men cover with praise, and I am content to wonder at”
(ibid., p. 15).
Quite a school of poets has been developed, singing the pain of the world,
the “Weltschmerz” of German authors, amongst whom Heine and Nicolas
Lenau are specially distinguished.
Russian poetry was born under the influence of Byronism, and its best
exponents, Poushkin and Lermontoff, often laboured over the problem of
the object of human existence, finding only sad answers. Poushkin, who is
justly regarded as the father of lyric poetry in Russia, stated his pessimistic
conception in the following lines:—
Only follies and then the darkness.
Oh Jupiter! in creating us you made
A heartless jest.
In The Nature of Man I described Byron’s expression of his conception of
the evils of human life. Soon after the death of the great English poet, a
celebrated Italian poet, Giacomo Leopardi, sounded a note of abandoned
pessimism.
Here are words which he addressed to his own heart178: “Be quiet for ever,
you have beaten enough, nothing is worthy of your beating and the earth is
not worthy of your sighs. Life is nothing but bitterness and weariness, there
is nothing else in it. The world is nothing but mire. Repose from now
onwards. Be in despair for ever. Destiny has given us nothing but death.
Despise henceforth yourself and nature, and the shameful concealed power
which decrees the ruin of all and the infinite variety of all.”
Leopardi makes his readers witnesses of his distraction and his grief: “I
shall study the blind truth”—he wrote in a poem dedicated to Charles
Pépoli—“I shall study the blind fates of things mortal and immortal. Why
humanity came into existence, and was burdened with pain and sorrow, to
what final end destiny and nature are driving it, for whose pleasure or
advantage is our great pain, what order, what laws rule this mysterious
universe which wise men cover with praise, and I am content to wonder at”
(ibid., p. 15).
Quite a school of poets has been developed, singing the pain of the world,
the “Weltschmerz” of German authors, amongst whom Heine and Nicolas
Lenau are specially distinguished.
Russian poetry was born under the influence of Byronism, and its best
exponents, Poushkin and Lermontoff, often laboured over the problem of
the object of human existence, finding only sad answers. Poushkin, who is
justly regarded as the father of lyric poetry in Russia, stated his pessimistic
conception in the following lines:—
Page 184
Useless gift, gift of chance,
Life, why wert thou given me?
And why from the beginning art thou doomed
Irrevocably to death?
What unfriendly power
Has drawn me from the darkness,
Has filled my soul with passion,
And breathed doubt into my soul?
There is no goal for me,
My heart and my soul are empty;
And the dull emotion of life
Has filled me with black care.
Recently, Mde. Ackermann, in a series of short poems, has given voice to
the grief caused to her by the world and life as they are, although she does
not state exactly the reason of her bitter complaints.
Whilst pessimistic philosophers and poets reflect the thoughts and feelings
of their contemporaries, it is certain that they also seriously influence their
readers. And so there has come into existence a deeply rooted conviction
that the miseries of human life are far from being countervailed by its
happiness. Probably such ideas have influenced the number of suicides. We
do not know with any certainty the real motives of most cases of self-
destruction, but it cannot be denied that the trend of modern thought has
played an important part. According to statistics, the chief causes of suicide
are “hypochondria, melancholia, weariness of life, and unbalancing of the
mind.” Thus from the Danish statistics it appears (and Denmark is the
country in which suicide is most prevalent) that of 1,000 cases of suicides
of males, between 1866 and 1895, 224, or one-quarter, were referred to the
causes I have just mentioned. In the case of women, the corresponding
figures are higher, amounting to nearly one-half (403 out of 1,000). The
second most common cause of male suicides is alcoholism (164 in
1,000).179 It is very probable that pessimism was the determining condition
in most of the suicides referred to these two categories of causes. Leaving
out of the question the true cases of mental alienation, amongst the victims
of melancholia, hypochondria and weariness of life, in whom the mental
condition was not pathological in the strict sense of the word, there must
have been many who killed themselves because their view of life was
pessimistic. And amongst the victims of drink, there are many who take to
alcohol because they are convinced that life is not worth preserving.
Life, why wert thou given me?
And why from the beginning art thou doomed
Irrevocably to death?
What unfriendly power
Has drawn me from the darkness,
Has filled my soul with passion,
And breathed doubt into my soul?
There is no goal for me,
My heart and my soul are empty;
And the dull emotion of life
Has filled me with black care.
Recently, Mde. Ackermann, in a series of short poems, has given voice to
the grief caused to her by the world and life as they are, although she does
not state exactly the reason of her bitter complaints.
Whilst pessimistic philosophers and poets reflect the thoughts and feelings
of their contemporaries, it is certain that they also seriously influence their
readers. And so there has come into existence a deeply rooted conviction
that the miseries of human life are far from being countervailed by its
happiness. Probably such ideas have influenced the number of suicides. We
do not know with any certainty the real motives of most cases of self-
destruction, but it cannot be denied that the trend of modern thought has
played an important part. According to statistics, the chief causes of suicide
are “hypochondria, melancholia, weariness of life, and unbalancing of the
mind.” Thus from the Danish statistics it appears (and Denmark is the
country in which suicide is most prevalent) that of 1,000 cases of suicides
of males, between 1866 and 1895, 224, or one-quarter, were referred to the
causes I have just mentioned. In the case of women, the corresponding
figures are higher, amounting to nearly one-half (403 out of 1,000). The
second most common cause of male suicides is alcoholism (164 in
1,000).179 It is very probable that pessimism was the determining condition
in most of the suicides referred to these two categories of causes. Leaving
out of the question the true cases of mental alienation, amongst the victims
of melancholia, hypochondria and weariness of life, in whom the mental
condition was not pathological in the strict sense of the word, there must
have been many who killed themselves because their view of life was
pessimistic. And amongst the victims of drink, there are many who take to
alcohol because they are convinced that life is not worth preserving.
Page 185
The progressive increase in the numbers of suicides in modern times is an
index of the great influence of pessimism. There have been even societies
for the promotion of suicide. In such a society, founded in Paris in the
beginning of last century, members placed their names in an urn, to be
drawn by chance. He whose name was drawn had to kill himself in the
presence of the other members. According to its rules, this society admitted
only persons of honour who must have had experience of “the injustice of
man, the ingratitude of a friend, the infidelity of a wife or mistress, and
who, moreover, for many years had had a void in their souls and a distaste
of what this world can offer.”180
Although such societies no longer exist, individuals continue to put their
lives to an end, in greater numbers every year.
II
ANALYSIS OF PESSIMISM
Attempts to assign reasons for the pessimistic conception of life—Views of E. von
Hartmann—Analysis of Kowalevsky’s work on the Psychology of Pessimism
In view of the facts I brought together in my last chapter, there is occasion
to inquire if it be possible to discover the intimate mechanism by which
men arrive at a conception of life as an evil to be got rid of as quickly as
possible. Why do so many think that man is less happy than the beasts, and
that cultured and intelligent men are more unhappy than those who are
ignorant or feeble-minded ?
I have related how in a society of friends of suicide, injustice and
unfaithfulness were regarded as prime factors in arousing a distaste for life.
Shakspeare made Hamlet exclaim that if it were possible to put an end to
our days no one would continue to live:—
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely?
For Byron, besides diseases, death and slavery, the evils that we see, there
are others:—
index of the great influence of pessimism. There have been even societies
for the promotion of suicide. In such a society, founded in Paris in the
beginning of last century, members placed their names in an urn, to be
drawn by chance. He whose name was drawn had to kill himself in the
presence of the other members. According to its rules, this society admitted
only persons of honour who must have had experience of “the injustice of
man, the ingratitude of a friend, the infidelity of a wife or mistress, and
who, moreover, for many years had had a void in their souls and a distaste
of what this world can offer.”180
Although such societies no longer exist, individuals continue to put their
lives to an end, in greater numbers every year.
II
ANALYSIS OF PESSIMISM
Attempts to assign reasons for the pessimistic conception of life—Views of E. von
Hartmann—Analysis of Kowalevsky’s work on the Psychology of Pessimism
In view of the facts I brought together in my last chapter, there is occasion
to inquire if it be possible to discover the intimate mechanism by which
men arrive at a conception of life as an evil to be got rid of as quickly as
possible. Why do so many think that man is less happy than the beasts, and
that cultured and intelligent men are more unhappy than those who are
ignorant or feeble-minded ?
I have related how in a society of friends of suicide, injustice and
unfaithfulness were regarded as prime factors in arousing a distaste for life.
Shakspeare made Hamlet exclaim that if it were possible to put an end to
our days no one would continue to live:—
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely?
For Byron, besides diseases, death and slavery, the evils that we see, there
are others:—
Page 186
And worse, the woes we see not—which throb through
The immedicable soul, with heart-aches ever new.
In many of his works he insists on the feeling of satiety which was almost
continually upon him. Every sensation of pleasure that came to him was
rapidly succeeded by a still stronger feeling of disgust.
Heine thought that existence was evil and saw
... across the hard surfaces of the rocks
The homes of men and the hearts of men—
In the one as in the others, lies, imposture and misery.
As I urged in The Nature of Man, consciousness of the shortness of human
life has been an important factor in exciting pessimism, and we find this
theme recurring in pessimistic writers. Leopardi returns to it again and
again in his poems. “Falling in peril of death from some mysterious
disease,” he said in his Souvenirs, “I lamented over my sweet youth and the
flower of my poor days which was to fall so soon, and often in the midnight
hours wove from my sorrows, by the pale light of my lamp, a sad poem,
and in the silence of the night wept over my fleeting life, and half fainting,
sang to myself my funeral song” (loc. cit., p. 28). The bas-relief on an
ancient tomb, representing the departure of a young girl who took farewell
of her friends, suggested to Leopardi the following thoughts: “Mother, who
from their birth makes her family of living beings tremble and weep,
Nature, monster unworthy of our praise, who brings into the world and
nurtures only to kill, if the premature death of a mortal be evil, why do you
bring it on so many innocent heads? If it be a good, why do you make it sad
for those who go and for those left behind? Why is it the hardest grief to
console? The only relief from our woes is death, death, the inevitable end,
the immutable law which you have established for human beings. Why,
alas, after the sad voyage of life, do you not make the arrival joyful? This
certain end, this end which is in our souls all our lives, which alone can
soothe our troubles, why do you drape it in black and surround it with
mournful shades? Why do you make the harbour more terrible than the
open seas?” (loc. cit., p. 55).
The three chief grievances—injustice, disease, and death—often come
together. From the anthropomorphic point of view fate is represented as a
sort of wicked being who commits injustice by visiting all kinds of evils on
mankind.
The immedicable soul, with heart-aches ever new.
In many of his works he insists on the feeling of satiety which was almost
continually upon him. Every sensation of pleasure that came to him was
rapidly succeeded by a still stronger feeling of disgust.
Heine thought that existence was evil and saw
... across the hard surfaces of the rocks
The homes of men and the hearts of men—
In the one as in the others, lies, imposture and misery.
As I urged in The Nature of Man, consciousness of the shortness of human
life has been an important factor in exciting pessimism, and we find this
theme recurring in pessimistic writers. Leopardi returns to it again and
again in his poems. “Falling in peril of death from some mysterious
disease,” he said in his Souvenirs, “I lamented over my sweet youth and the
flower of my poor days which was to fall so soon, and often in the midnight
hours wove from my sorrows, by the pale light of my lamp, a sad poem,
and in the silence of the night wept over my fleeting life, and half fainting,
sang to myself my funeral song” (loc. cit., p. 28). The bas-relief on an
ancient tomb, representing the departure of a young girl who took farewell
of her friends, suggested to Leopardi the following thoughts: “Mother, who
from their birth makes her family of living beings tremble and weep,
Nature, monster unworthy of our praise, who brings into the world and
nurtures only to kill, if the premature death of a mortal be evil, why do you
bring it on so many innocent heads? If it be a good, why do you make it sad
for those who go and for those left behind? Why is it the hardest grief to
console? The only relief from our woes is death, death, the inevitable end,
the immutable law which you have established for human beings. Why,
alas, after the sad voyage of life, do you not make the arrival joyful? This
certain end, this end which is in our souls all our lives, which alone can
soothe our troubles, why do you drape it in black and surround it with
mournful shades? Why do you make the harbour more terrible than the
open seas?” (loc. cit., p. 55).
The three chief grievances—injustice, disease, and death—often come
together. From the anthropomorphic point of view fate is represented as a
sort of wicked being who commits injustice by visiting all kinds of evils on
mankind.
Page 187
A pessimistic conception of life is arrived at by a complex psychological
process in which both feelings and reflection are involved, and hence it is
difficult to analyse it satisfactorily. Formerly, therefore, writers were
content with general and very vague estimates of the process by which we
may become pessimists. Ed. von Hartmann has tried to deal more exactly
with this inner process of the human mind. In the first place, he lays stress
on the fact that pleasures always bring less satisfaction than pains bring
grief. False notes in music, for instance, are more painful than the best
music is delightful. The pain of toothache is much more violent than the
pleasure when relief comes. So also with all diseases. In love, according to
Hartmann, the pleasure is always very greatly over-balanced by the pain.
Muscular work brings pleasure only in a very small degree, and devotion to
science and art and intellectual work in general brings more pain than
pleasure to the votaries. As the result of an analysis, Hartmann is convinced
that there is much more pain than pleasure in the world. Pessimism is
founded upon the essential nature of human feelings.
M. Kowalevsky,181 a German philosopher at Koenigsberg, adopting the
modern habit of measuring mental processes as exactly as possible, has
recently published an attempt to analyse pessimism psychologically.
Although this has not solved the problem, it is extremely interesting as an
instance of the application of the methods now being adopted in modern
psychology.
M. Kowalevsky took advantage of all the known methods of estimating the
relative values of our emotions; he tried to make use of the notes of
Munsterberg, another living psychologist who kept a journal in which he set
down daily his psychical and psycho-physical impressions. The object of
the work had no relation to the question of pessimism, and for that reason
Kowalevsky thought that it was specially important in his investigations.
Munsterberg was not content with the existing classification of emotions as
agreeable or painful. He subdivided them much further. He recognised, for
instance, emotions of tranquillity and excitement, serious and pleasant
impressions. Having completed the reckoning, Kowalevsky came to the
conclusion that his colleague, who was by no means a pessimist, but a
psychologist of well-balanced mind, experienced many more painful
emotions (about 60 per cent. as compared with 40 per cent.) than agreeable
process in which both feelings and reflection are involved, and hence it is
difficult to analyse it satisfactorily. Formerly, therefore, writers were
content with general and very vague estimates of the process by which we
may become pessimists. Ed. von Hartmann has tried to deal more exactly
with this inner process of the human mind. In the first place, he lays stress
on the fact that pleasures always bring less satisfaction than pains bring
grief. False notes in music, for instance, are more painful than the best
music is delightful. The pain of toothache is much more violent than the
pleasure when relief comes. So also with all diseases. In love, according to
Hartmann, the pleasure is always very greatly over-balanced by the pain.
Muscular work brings pleasure only in a very small degree, and devotion to
science and art and intellectual work in general brings more pain than
pleasure to the votaries. As the result of an analysis, Hartmann is convinced
that there is much more pain than pleasure in the world. Pessimism is
founded upon the essential nature of human feelings.
M. Kowalevsky,181 a German philosopher at Koenigsberg, adopting the
modern habit of measuring mental processes as exactly as possible, has
recently published an attempt to analyse pessimism psychologically.
Although this has not solved the problem, it is extremely interesting as an
instance of the application of the methods now being adopted in modern
psychology.
M. Kowalevsky took advantage of all the known methods of estimating the
relative values of our emotions; he tried to make use of the notes of
Munsterberg, another living psychologist who kept a journal in which he set
down daily his psychical and psycho-physical impressions. The object of
the work had no relation to the question of pessimism, and for that reason
Kowalevsky thought that it was specially important in his investigations.
Munsterberg was not content with the existing classification of emotions as
agreeable or painful. He subdivided them much further. He recognised, for
instance, emotions of tranquillity and excitement, serious and pleasant
impressions. Having completed the reckoning, Kowalevsky came to the
conclusion that his colleague, who was by no means a pessimist, but a
psychologist of well-balanced mind, experienced many more painful
emotions (about 60 per cent. as compared with 40 per cent.) than agreeable
Page 188
emotions. “Such a result is in favour of pessimism,” concluded
Kowalevsky.
However, he went beyond the foregoing enquiry. By several other methods,
he tried to gain an exact idea of the value of our emotions. He visited
elementary schools in order to investigate the pleasures and pains of the
scholars. In the case of 104 boys, of eleven to thirteen years of age, he
found that pain was much more deeply felt than corresponding pleasure.
Thus, while in 88 cases illness was set down as an evil, only in 21 was
health reckoned as a good. One-third of the pupils noted down war amongst
evils, whilst only one noted peace amongst the good things. Poverty was
written down thirteen times as an evil, against twice in which riches were
put down as a good. In another series of investigations, Kowalevsky took
notes on the pleasures and pains felt by pupils of the two sexes attending
the same school. The result was that the greatest evil, according to them,
was illness, noted 43 times, then death 42 times, after which came fire 37
times, hunger 23 times, floods 20 times. Amongst the good things, the first
place was given, as might have been expected, to games (30) and the
second to presents.
As Kowalevsky did not find that such investigations could solve the
problem, he tried to discover a more exact method. With this object, he
turned to different sensations, such as those of smell, hearing and taste, to
which he applied methods of exact measurement. In the case of taste, for
instance, he determined the minimum quantity of different substances
which could excite definitely pleasant or unpleasant sensations. In his
experiments, Kowalevsky found that doses which gave bad tastes were not
balanced by those which gave good tastes. For instance, to neutralise the
unpleasant taste of quinine, it was necessary to employ a much larger
quantity of sugar. He was specially pleased with one experiment. Four
persons were given definite mixtures of sugar and quinine in order to
discover the proportion of the two substances necessary to obtain a neutral
sensation. He found that to take away the bad taste of quinine, it was
necessary to double the quantity of sugar given. Similarly with smells, he
found that those which were unpleasant were appreciated much more
strongly than those which were pleasant. Here, then, was a series of
scientific results supporting the view of the pessimists. Must we really
conclude from them that the world is very badly arranged? The analysis of
Kowalevsky.
However, he went beyond the foregoing enquiry. By several other methods,
he tried to gain an exact idea of the value of our emotions. He visited
elementary schools in order to investigate the pleasures and pains of the
scholars. In the case of 104 boys, of eleven to thirteen years of age, he
found that pain was much more deeply felt than corresponding pleasure.
Thus, while in 88 cases illness was set down as an evil, only in 21 was
health reckoned as a good. One-third of the pupils noted down war amongst
evils, whilst only one noted peace amongst the good things. Poverty was
written down thirteen times as an evil, against twice in which riches were
put down as a good. In another series of investigations, Kowalevsky took
notes on the pleasures and pains felt by pupils of the two sexes attending
the same school. The result was that the greatest evil, according to them,
was illness, noted 43 times, then death 42 times, after which came fire 37
times, hunger 23 times, floods 20 times. Amongst the good things, the first
place was given, as might have been expected, to games (30) and the
second to presents.
As Kowalevsky did not find that such investigations could solve the
problem, he tried to discover a more exact method. With this object, he
turned to different sensations, such as those of smell, hearing and taste, to
which he applied methods of exact measurement. In the case of taste, for
instance, he determined the minimum quantity of different substances
which could excite definitely pleasant or unpleasant sensations. In his
experiments, Kowalevsky found that doses which gave bad tastes were not
balanced by those which gave good tastes. For instance, to neutralise the
unpleasant taste of quinine, it was necessary to employ a much larger
quantity of sugar. He was specially pleased with one experiment. Four
persons were given definite mixtures of sugar and quinine in order to
discover the proportion of the two substances necessary to obtain a neutral
sensation. He found that to take away the bad taste of quinine, it was
necessary to double the quantity of sugar given. Similarly with smells, he
found that those which were unpleasant were appreciated much more
strongly than those which were pleasant. Here, then, was a series of
scientific results supporting the view of the pessimists. Must we really
conclude from them that the world is very badly arranged? The analysis of
Page 189
good and bad temper made by Kowalevsky is in favour of such an
interpretation. In order to estimate these conditions of mind, he measured
the gait, that is to say, the number of steps taken in a minute. This method
depended upon the following idea. It is an accepted view that the condition
of mind is shown by the rapidity of the human walk; we have only to
compare the slow pace of a man in deep grief with the rapid steps of a man
in a state of joy. Pain, as a general rule, depresses, while joy stimulates
voluntary movements. The result of the measurements taken according to
this method give a new argument in favour of pessimism. However, it is
useless to attempt to analyse these figures on which Kowalevsky had to
employ the integral calculus, because the principle of his method cannot be
supported. As a matter of fact, the rapidity of walking is an index of the
degree of excitation, and not of the happy or unhappy condition of the
mind. When a person suddenly undergoes a strong impression, either
pleasant or unpleasant, he takes to walking actively about in his room, and
may even want to go out of doors to walk more quickly. A letter which has
been received and which gives some unexpected news, as for instance of
the infidelity of a person one loves, or of an inheritance which one did not
expect, produces a condition of excitement shown chiefly by rapid walking.
Many orators and professors have to make gestures and to walk about in the
course of their lectures. A man of science to whom some new idea comes
and who wishes to think it out, rises from his chair and begins to walk. But
not only on such pleasant occasions, but when one has to face an insult or
an act of defiance which makes one very angry, the need to walk actively is
felt. It is therefore impossible to utilise records of movements in the study
of the pessimistic state of mind.
M. Kowalevsky employed still another mode of attacking the problem. He
examined the recollection of painful or pleasant impressions. He asked the
children of both sexes, whom he was investigating, questions which gave
him indications as to whether pleasures or pains made the more lasting
impression on the memory, and he registered the answers. The result, which
agreed with what had already been obtained by Mr. Colegrove, an American
psychologist, was unfavourable to the pessimistic view. He found, in fact,
that in the majority of cases (70 per cent.) recollection of pleasant
impressions predominated. However, in such investigations there is a facile
source of error arising from the condition of mind of those who are being
questioned. It is probable that Kowalevsky made his enquiry in school
interpretation. In order to estimate these conditions of mind, he measured
the gait, that is to say, the number of steps taken in a minute. This method
depended upon the following idea. It is an accepted view that the condition
of mind is shown by the rapidity of the human walk; we have only to
compare the slow pace of a man in deep grief with the rapid steps of a man
in a state of joy. Pain, as a general rule, depresses, while joy stimulates
voluntary movements. The result of the measurements taken according to
this method give a new argument in favour of pessimism. However, it is
useless to attempt to analyse these figures on which Kowalevsky had to
employ the integral calculus, because the principle of his method cannot be
supported. As a matter of fact, the rapidity of walking is an index of the
degree of excitation, and not of the happy or unhappy condition of the
mind. When a person suddenly undergoes a strong impression, either
pleasant or unpleasant, he takes to walking actively about in his room, and
may even want to go out of doors to walk more quickly. A letter which has
been received and which gives some unexpected news, as for instance of
the infidelity of a person one loves, or of an inheritance which one did not
expect, produces a condition of excitement shown chiefly by rapid walking.
Many orators and professors have to make gestures and to walk about in the
course of their lectures. A man of science to whom some new idea comes
and who wishes to think it out, rises from his chair and begins to walk. But
not only on such pleasant occasions, but when one has to face an insult or
an act of defiance which makes one very angry, the need to walk actively is
felt. It is therefore impossible to utilise records of movements in the study
of the pessimistic state of mind.
M. Kowalevsky employed still another mode of attacking the problem. He
examined the recollection of painful or pleasant impressions. He asked the
children of both sexes, whom he was investigating, questions which gave
him indications as to whether pleasures or pains made the more lasting
impression on the memory, and he registered the answers. The result, which
agreed with what had already been obtained by Mr. Colegrove, an American
psychologist, was unfavourable to the pessimistic view. He found, in fact,
that in the majority of cases (70 per cent.) recollection of pleasant
impressions predominated. However, in such investigations there is a facile
source of error arising from the condition of mind of those who are being
questioned. It is probable that Kowalevsky made his enquiry in school
Page 190
during recreation time, when most of the pupils were free from the boredom
of the actual class. When we are happy the tendency exists in us to recall
pleasant impressions of the past. If the enquiry had been made during a
difficult or wearying lesson, or on children shut up in a hospital, or
undergoing punishment, it is probable that the result would have been
reversed.
It is evident that all such attempts to solve a problem so complex as that of
pessimism, even by the so-called exact methods of physiological
psychology, cannot lead to any convincing result. Thus Kowalevsky’s
different investigations led to contradictory conclusions. Whilst some of his
series of facts supported the pessimistic conception, others were opposed to
it, and he obtained no definite general conclusion. How can one expect to
apply a method of measurement to sensations and emotions so different, not
only from the qualitative point of view, but also in relation to their
intensity? Take, for instance, the case of an individual who has experienced
in one day nine sensations which were painful and one which was
agreeable. According to the valuation of experimental psychologists, he
ought to have reason to become a pessimist. However, this may be far from
the case, if the nine painful impressions were much weaker than the single
happy impression. The first were provoked by small wounds to his pride,
fleeting pains of no importance, and small losses of money, whilst the
happy emotion came from receiving a love letter. The sum of the ten
impressions would be a happy one, and might well put him in an optimistic
frame of mind. The learned attempts of experimental psychologists must be
abandoned, as incapable of illuminating the problem. If, however, the
human spirit still seeks some means of explaining the psychology of
pessimism, there remains only the less subtle method given by the
biographical study of human beings.
III
PESSIMISM IN ITS RELATION TO HEALTH AND AGE
Relation between pessimism and the state of the health—History of a man of science who
was pessimistic when young, and who became an optimist in old age—Optimism of
of the actual class. When we are happy the tendency exists in us to recall
pleasant impressions of the past. If the enquiry had been made during a
difficult or wearying lesson, or on children shut up in a hospital, or
undergoing punishment, it is probable that the result would have been
reversed.
It is evident that all such attempts to solve a problem so complex as that of
pessimism, even by the so-called exact methods of physiological
psychology, cannot lead to any convincing result. Thus Kowalevsky’s
different investigations led to contradictory conclusions. Whilst some of his
series of facts supported the pessimistic conception, others were opposed to
it, and he obtained no definite general conclusion. How can one expect to
apply a method of measurement to sensations and emotions so different, not
only from the qualitative point of view, but also in relation to their
intensity? Take, for instance, the case of an individual who has experienced
in one day nine sensations which were painful and one which was
agreeable. According to the valuation of experimental psychologists, he
ought to have reason to become a pessimist. However, this may be far from
the case, if the nine painful impressions were much weaker than the single
happy impression. The first were provoked by small wounds to his pride,
fleeting pains of no importance, and small losses of money, whilst the
happy emotion came from receiving a love letter. The sum of the ten
impressions would be a happy one, and might well put him in an optimistic
frame of mind. The learned attempts of experimental psychologists must be
abandoned, as incapable of illuminating the problem. If, however, the
human spirit still seeks some means of explaining the psychology of
pessimism, there remains only the less subtle method given by the
biographical study of human beings.
III
PESSIMISM IN ITS RELATION TO HEALTH AND AGE
Relation between pessimism and the state of the health—History of a man of science who
was pessimistic when young, and who became an optimist in old age—Optimism of
Page 191
Schopenhauer when old—Development of the sense of life—Development of the senses in
blind people—The sense of obstacles
Animals and children in good health are generally cheerful and of
optimistic temperament. As soon as they fall ill they become sad and
melancholy until their recovery. We may infer from this that an optimistic
view is correlated with normal health, whilst pessimism arises from some
physical or mental disease. And so in the case of the prophets of pessimism,
we may seek for the origin of their views in some affliction. The pessimism
of Byron has been attributed to his club-foot, and that of Leopardi to
tuberculosis, these two nineteenth century exponents of pessimism having
died whilst young. Buddha and Schopenhauer, on the other hand, reached
old age, whilst Hartmann died when sixty-four years old. Their diseases at
the time when they formed their theories could not have been very
dangerous, and none the less they took a most gloomy view of human
existence. The recent historical investigations of Dr. Iwan Bloch182 make it
very probable that Schopenhauer, in his youth, contracted syphilis. There
has been found a note-book of the great philosopher in which he wrote
down the details of the severe mercurial treatment which he had to undergo.
The disease, however, was not contracted until several years after the
appearance of his great pessimistic work.
Although we must attach due weight to the connection between disease and
pessimism, we can assure ourselves that the problem is more complex than
it appears at first sight. It is well known that blind people often enjoy a
constant good humour, and, amongst the apostles of optimism, there has
been the philosopher Duering,183 who lost his sight during his youth.
Moreover, it has been noticed that persons affected with chronic diseases
frequently have a very optimistic conception of life, whilst young people in
full strength may become sad, melancholic, and abandoned to the most
extreme pessimism. Such a contrast has been well described by Émile Zola
in his novel La Joie de Vivre, where a rheumatic old man, tried by severe
attacks of gout, maintained his good humour, whilst his young son,
although vigorous and in good health, professed extreme pessimism.
I have a cousin who lost his sight in early youth. When he grew up he
formed a most enviable judgment of life. He lived in his imagination and
everything in life seemed to him good and beautiful; he married, and
blind people—The sense of obstacles
Animals and children in good health are generally cheerful and of
optimistic temperament. As soon as they fall ill they become sad and
melancholy until their recovery. We may infer from this that an optimistic
view is correlated with normal health, whilst pessimism arises from some
physical or mental disease. And so in the case of the prophets of pessimism,
we may seek for the origin of their views in some affliction. The pessimism
of Byron has been attributed to his club-foot, and that of Leopardi to
tuberculosis, these two nineteenth century exponents of pessimism having
died whilst young. Buddha and Schopenhauer, on the other hand, reached
old age, whilst Hartmann died when sixty-four years old. Their diseases at
the time when they formed their theories could not have been very
dangerous, and none the less they took a most gloomy view of human
existence. The recent historical investigations of Dr. Iwan Bloch182 make it
very probable that Schopenhauer, in his youth, contracted syphilis. There
has been found a note-book of the great philosopher in which he wrote
down the details of the severe mercurial treatment which he had to undergo.
The disease, however, was not contracted until several years after the
appearance of his great pessimistic work.
Although we must attach due weight to the connection between disease and
pessimism, we can assure ourselves that the problem is more complex than
it appears at first sight. It is well known that blind people often enjoy a
constant good humour, and, amongst the apostles of optimism, there has
been the philosopher Duering,183 who lost his sight during his youth.
Moreover, it has been noticed that persons affected with chronic diseases
frequently have a very optimistic conception of life, whilst young people in
full strength may become sad, melancholic, and abandoned to the most
extreme pessimism. Such a contrast has been well described by Émile Zola
in his novel La Joie de Vivre, where a rheumatic old man, tried by severe
attacks of gout, maintained his good humour, whilst his young son,
although vigorous and in good health, professed extreme pessimism.
I have a cousin who lost his sight in early youth. When he grew up he
formed a most enviable judgment of life. He lived in his imagination and
everything in life seemed to him good and beautiful; he married, and
Page 192
pictured his wife to himself as the most beautiful woman in the world, and
thus he feared nothing more than the recovery of his sight. He had adapted
himself to live without sight, and was convinced that the reality was much
lower than his imagination. He feared that if he were able to see his wife
she would appear to him less beautiful.
I know a girl twenty-six years old, blind from her birth, the subject of
infantile paralysis and liable to fits of epilepsy. She is nearly an idiot, lives
in a carriage, and sees life from its best side. She is certainly the most happy
member of all her family.
The good humour and megalomania of those affected with general paralysis
of the insane also is well known. All such examples show that pessimism
cannot be explained as depending on bad health.
Examination of the state of mind of a pessimist may throw some light on
the subject. There has been within my own circle a typical case of a person
who went through a phase of life in which everything seemed as gloomy as
possible. My intimate knowledge of him makes it possible to apply my
observations to the matter under discussion.
The subject was born of parents of good health and in comfortable
circumstances, so that, from the beginning of his life, he was surrounded by
a favourite environment. He lived in the country and escaped the diseases of
childhood, so that he reached maturity in good health, and passed well
through college and the university. Science attracted him, and he had the
ambition to become a distinguished investigator. He threw himself into a
scientific career with zeal and ability. His ardent disposition, although
certainly favourable to work, was the cause of many troubles. He wished to
succeed too quickly, and the obstacles he encountered embittered him. As
he thought himself naturally talented, he conceived it to be the duty of his
seniors to aid his development. And so, when he met with natural and very
common indifference from those who had already become successful, the
young man thought that there was a plot against him, to bring to nothing his
scientific talents. From this view, many quarrels and difficulties arose, and
as he could not overcome these sufficiently quickly, he fell into a mood of
pessimism. In this life, he said to himself, the main thing is to adapt oneself
to external conditions. According to Darwin’s law of natural selection, the
individuals who do not succeed in adapting themselves go to the wall. The
thus he feared nothing more than the recovery of his sight. He had adapted
himself to live without sight, and was convinced that the reality was much
lower than his imagination. He feared that if he were able to see his wife
she would appear to him less beautiful.
I know a girl twenty-six years old, blind from her birth, the subject of
infantile paralysis and liable to fits of epilepsy. She is nearly an idiot, lives
in a carriage, and sees life from its best side. She is certainly the most happy
member of all her family.
The good humour and megalomania of those affected with general paralysis
of the insane also is well known. All such examples show that pessimism
cannot be explained as depending on bad health.
Examination of the state of mind of a pessimist may throw some light on
the subject. There has been within my own circle a typical case of a person
who went through a phase of life in which everything seemed as gloomy as
possible. My intimate knowledge of him makes it possible to apply my
observations to the matter under discussion.
The subject was born of parents of good health and in comfortable
circumstances, so that, from the beginning of his life, he was surrounded by
a favourite environment. He lived in the country and escaped the diseases of
childhood, so that he reached maturity in good health, and passed well
through college and the university. Science attracted him, and he had the
ambition to become a distinguished investigator. He threw himself into a
scientific career with zeal and ability. His ardent disposition, although
certainly favourable to work, was the cause of many troubles. He wished to
succeed too quickly, and the obstacles he encountered embittered him. As
he thought himself naturally talented, he conceived it to be the duty of his
seniors to aid his development. And so, when he met with natural and very
common indifference from those who had already become successful, the
young man thought that there was a plot against him, to bring to nothing his
scientific talents. From this view, many quarrels and difficulties arose, and
as he could not overcome these sufficiently quickly, he fell into a mood of
pessimism. In this life, he said to himself, the main thing is to adapt oneself
to external conditions. According to Darwin’s law of natural selection, the
individuals who do not succeed in adapting themselves go to the wall. The
Page 193
survivors are not the best but only the most cunning. In the history of the
earth it has been seen that many lower animals have long survived creatures
much higher in organisation and general evolution. Whilst so many of the
higher mammals, the nearest relatives of man, have been crushed out of
existence, simpler animals, such as evil-smelling cockroaches, have
survived from the remotest times, and multiply in the neighbourhood of
man in despite of his efforts to exterminate them. The animal series and
human evolution itself show that delicacy of the nervous system, with its
concomitant extreme development of the sensibilities, hinders the power of
adaptation and brings with it insuperable evils. The least blow to his pride,
or a slighting word from a comrade, threw this pessimist into a most painful
condition. No, he would cry, it would be better to be without friends, if one
is to be wounded so deeply by them. It would be best to seclude oneself in
some remote spot and be engrossed in one’s work. He was very
impressionable and a lover of music, and from his visits to the opera, he
retained in his mind an air from the “Flûte enchantée.” “Were I as small as a
snail, I would hide myself in my shell.” His moral hypersensibility was
associated with physical hyperæsthesia. Noises of all kinds, such as the
whistling of railway-trains, the cries of street-vendors, or the barking of
dogs, excited extremely painful sensations. The least trace of light
prevented him from sleeping at night. The unpleasant flavour of most drugs
made it impossible for him to take medicine. He agreed thoroughly with the
pessimistic philosophers who declare that the ills of life far surpass the
good things. He required no experiments on the sense of taste to convince
him. He believed that the organisation of his body prevented him from
becoming adapted to external conditions and that he would have to
disappear like the mammoth and the anthropoid apes.
The course of his life confirmed the convictions of our pessimist. He had no
private fortune and married a woman who became affected with
tuberculosis, and so was confronted with the greatest evils of existence. A
young lady, hitherto in good health, contracted influenza in some northern
town. It was a mere nothing, said the doctors; influenza is everywhere and
no one escapes it; after a little patience and rest, she will be well again.
However the “influenza” persisted and brought with it feebleness and
wasting. The doctors then found that there was a little dullness in the apex
of the left lung, but as there was no bad family history, there was nothing to
fear. I need not describe the familiar course of events. The trifling influenza
earth it has been seen that many lower animals have long survived creatures
much higher in organisation and general evolution. Whilst so many of the
higher mammals, the nearest relatives of man, have been crushed out of
existence, simpler animals, such as evil-smelling cockroaches, have
survived from the remotest times, and multiply in the neighbourhood of
man in despite of his efforts to exterminate them. The animal series and
human evolution itself show that delicacy of the nervous system, with its
concomitant extreme development of the sensibilities, hinders the power of
adaptation and brings with it insuperable evils. The least blow to his pride,
or a slighting word from a comrade, threw this pessimist into a most painful
condition. No, he would cry, it would be better to be without friends, if one
is to be wounded so deeply by them. It would be best to seclude oneself in
some remote spot and be engrossed in one’s work. He was very
impressionable and a lover of music, and from his visits to the opera, he
retained in his mind an air from the “Flûte enchantée.” “Were I as small as a
snail, I would hide myself in my shell.” His moral hypersensibility was
associated with physical hyperæsthesia. Noises of all kinds, such as the
whistling of railway-trains, the cries of street-vendors, or the barking of
dogs, excited extremely painful sensations. The least trace of light
prevented him from sleeping at night. The unpleasant flavour of most drugs
made it impossible for him to take medicine. He agreed thoroughly with the
pessimistic philosophers who declare that the ills of life far surpass the
good things. He required no experiments on the sense of taste to convince
him. He believed that the organisation of his body prevented him from
becoming adapted to external conditions and that he would have to
disappear like the mammoth and the anthropoid apes.
The course of his life confirmed the convictions of our pessimist. He had no
private fortune and married a woman who became affected with
tuberculosis, and so was confronted with the greatest evils of existence. A
young lady, hitherto in good health, contracted influenza in some northern
town. It was a mere nothing, said the doctors; influenza is everywhere and
no one escapes it; after a little patience and rest, she will be well again.
However the “influenza” persisted and brought with it feebleness and
wasting. The doctors then found that there was a little dullness in the apex
of the left lung, but as there was no bad family history, there was nothing to
fear. I need not describe the familiar course of events. The trifling influenza
Page 194
was replaced by degeneration of the left lung, and brought death after four
years of great suffering. Towards the end, when there was no hope, the
patient found her only solace in morphine. Under the influence of that drug,
she passed hours free from pain and in relative calm, but her excited
imagination passed almost into hallucination.
It is not surprising that the death of his wife was a severe shock to the
husband. His pessimism became complete. He was a widower at the age of
twenty-eight years, and, in his condition of mental and physical exhaustion,
took to morphine like his wife. He knew that it was a poison which would
complete the ruin of his constitution and make his work impossible. But
what was the value of his life? As his organisation was too nervous for him
to adapt himself to external conditions, was it not as well to come to the aid
of natural selection and so make room for others? As it happened, a large
dose of morphia did not solve the problem. It produced in him a condition
of extraordinary happiness combined with extreme physical weakness.
Little by little the instinct of life awoke in him, and he resumed his work.
Pessimism, however, remained the fundamental quality in his character.
Life was not worth the pains necessary to protect it. It would be a true crime
to bring into the world other living beings doomed to elimination by natural
selection. Moral and physical sensibility, as they continued to develop,
brought with them so much evil that there could be no good end. The
“injustice” of those who were unwilling to “understand” him made life
painful to the man himself and to those about him. The closest absorption
and hard work made his existence more tolerable, but his pessimistic
conception was not in the least altered. Thus, he was easily driven to
morphia for consolation, when he suffered from some act of “injustice” or
vexation. A severe fit of poisoning, however, stopped this excess.
Years passed. When he discussed with his friends the problem of the goal of
human life and similar topics, he was always ardent in supporting the point
of view of pessimism. However, he occasionally wondered if his pleading
for this were really sincere. As his nature was honest and frank, this
question which he put to his conscience appeared most curious to him.
Analysis of what passed in his mind revealed to him a change. It was not
that his conceptions had changed in the course of years, but rather his
feelings and sensations. As he was now in full maturity, between forty-five
and fifty years old, he found that there was a great change in the intensity of
years of great suffering. Towards the end, when there was no hope, the
patient found her only solace in morphine. Under the influence of that drug,
she passed hours free from pain and in relative calm, but her excited
imagination passed almost into hallucination.
It is not surprising that the death of his wife was a severe shock to the
husband. His pessimism became complete. He was a widower at the age of
twenty-eight years, and, in his condition of mental and physical exhaustion,
took to morphine like his wife. He knew that it was a poison which would
complete the ruin of his constitution and make his work impossible. But
what was the value of his life? As his organisation was too nervous for him
to adapt himself to external conditions, was it not as well to come to the aid
of natural selection and so make room for others? As it happened, a large
dose of morphia did not solve the problem. It produced in him a condition
of extraordinary happiness combined with extreme physical weakness.
Little by little the instinct of life awoke in him, and he resumed his work.
Pessimism, however, remained the fundamental quality in his character.
Life was not worth the pains necessary to protect it. It would be a true crime
to bring into the world other living beings doomed to elimination by natural
selection. Moral and physical sensibility, as they continued to develop,
brought with them so much evil that there could be no good end. The
“injustice” of those who were unwilling to “understand” him made life
painful to the man himself and to those about him. The closest absorption
and hard work made his existence more tolerable, but his pessimistic
conception was not in the least altered. Thus, he was easily driven to
morphia for consolation, when he suffered from some act of “injustice” or
vexation. A severe fit of poisoning, however, stopped this excess.
Years passed. When he discussed with his friends the problem of the goal of
human life and similar topics, he was always ardent in supporting the point
of view of pessimism. However, he occasionally wondered if his pleading
for this were really sincere. As his nature was honest and frank, this
question which he put to his conscience appeared most curious to him.
Analysis of what passed in his mind revealed to him a change. It was not
that his conceptions had changed in the course of years, but rather his
feelings and sensations. As he was now in full maturity, between forty-five
and fifty years old, he found that there was a great change in the intensity of
Page 195
these last. Disagreeable sounds did not trouble him to the same extent as
formerly, and he was undisturbed by the caterwauling of cats or by harsh
street cries. As his hypersensibility diminished his character became more
tolerant. Even the injustices or wounds to his pride which formerly drove
him to morphia, no longer provoked in him any painful reaction. He could
easily conceal the bad effect of these upon him, and no longer felt them
with the same intensity. Thus his character had become much more
supportable to those with him, and much better balanced.
“It is old age which is come upon me,” he cried; “I feel painful impressions
much less acutely and pleasant impressions have less effect on me. The
relative proportions of the two remain as before, that is to say, unpleasant
things still impress me much more strongly than pleasant things.” By
analysing and comparing his emotions, he discovered something new, in
fact that some impressions were, so to speak, neutral. As he was less
sensitive to unharmonious sounds, and at the same time less affected by
music itself, he found himself in a more tranquil condition. Awakening in
the middle of the night, he experienced a kind of happiness which reminded
him of that formerly produced by morphine, and which was characterised
by his hearing no sound, either pleasant or unpleasant. He became less
disgusted by drugs, but at the same time indifferent to the pleasures of the
table which he had appreciated in his youth. He also delighted in consuming
more and more simple food. A piece of black bread and a glass of water
became real treats to him. Insipid dishes, which he formerly despised, were
now specially agreeable to him.
Just as in the evolution of art, violent coloration has yielded to the low tones
of Puvis de Chavannes, as views of fields and meadows are preferred to
those of mountains and lakes; just as in literature, tragic and romantic
studies have been successfully replaced by scenes of daily life, so the
psychical development of my friend displayed a similar change. Instead of
taking his pleasure in mountains or in places famed for their
picturesqueness, he was content to watch the budding of the leaves of the
trees of his garden, or a snail overcoming its fears and putting out its horns.
The simplest occurrences, such as the lisping or the smile of a baby or the
first words of a child, became sources of real delight to this elderly man of
science. What was the meaning of these changes which took so many years
to be accomplished? It was the growth of his sense of life. The instinct of
formerly, and he was undisturbed by the caterwauling of cats or by harsh
street cries. As his hypersensibility diminished his character became more
tolerant. Even the injustices or wounds to his pride which formerly drove
him to morphia, no longer provoked in him any painful reaction. He could
easily conceal the bad effect of these upon him, and no longer felt them
with the same intensity. Thus his character had become much more
supportable to those with him, and much better balanced.
“It is old age which is come upon me,” he cried; “I feel painful impressions
much less acutely and pleasant impressions have less effect on me. The
relative proportions of the two remain as before, that is to say, unpleasant
things still impress me much more strongly than pleasant things.” By
analysing and comparing his emotions, he discovered something new, in
fact that some impressions were, so to speak, neutral. As he was less
sensitive to unharmonious sounds, and at the same time less affected by
music itself, he found himself in a more tranquil condition. Awakening in
the middle of the night, he experienced a kind of happiness which reminded
him of that formerly produced by morphine, and which was characterised
by his hearing no sound, either pleasant or unpleasant. He became less
disgusted by drugs, but at the same time indifferent to the pleasures of the
table which he had appreciated in his youth. He also delighted in consuming
more and more simple food. A piece of black bread and a glass of water
became real treats to him. Insipid dishes, which he formerly despised, were
now specially agreeable to him.
Just as in the evolution of art, violent coloration has yielded to the low tones
of Puvis de Chavannes, as views of fields and meadows are preferred to
those of mountains and lakes; just as in literature, tragic and romantic
studies have been successfully replaced by scenes of daily life, so the
psychical development of my friend displayed a similar change. Instead of
taking his pleasure in mountains or in places famed for their
picturesqueness, he was content to watch the budding of the leaves of the
trees of his garden, or a snail overcoming its fears and putting out its horns.
The simplest occurrences, such as the lisping or the smile of a baby or the
first words of a child, became sources of real delight to this elderly man of
science. What was the meaning of these changes which took so many years
to be accomplished? It was the growth of his sense of life. The instinct of
Page 196
life is little developed in youth. Just as a young woman gets more pain than
pleasure from the earlier part of her married life, just as a new-born baby
cries, so the impressions from life, especially when they are very keenly
felt, bring more pain than pleasure during a long period of human life. The
sensations and feelings are not stable; they undergo evolution, and when
that takes place more or less normally, it brings about a state of psychical
equilibrium.
And thus my friend, formerly so entrenched in pessimism, came to share
my optimistic view of life. The discussions that we had had for so many
years ended in complete agreement. “However,” said he, “to understand the
value of life, one must have lived long; otherwise one is in the position of a
man blind from his birth to whom are recounted the beauties of colours.” In
a word, my friend towards the end of his life changed from abject
pessimism to complete optimism.
Such a transformation or evolution cannot be regarded as unusual. In The
Nature of Man, I showed that most of the great pessimistic writers had been
young men. Such were Buddha, Byron, Leopardi, Schopenhauer, Hartmann,
and Mailaender, and there might be added many other names of less well
known men.
The question has often been asked why Schopenhauer, who was certainly
sincere in his philosophy and who extolled Nirvana as the perfect state,
came to have a strong attachment to life, instead of putting it to a premature
end as was done later on by Mailaender. The reason was that the
philosopher of Frankfort lived long enough to acquire a strong instinct of
life. M. Moebius,184 a well-known authority on madness, has made a close
investigation of Schopenhauer’s biography, and has established the fact that
towards the end of his life his views were tinged with optimistic colours.
On his seventieth anniversary, he took pleasure in the consoling idea of the
Hindoo Oupanischad and of Flourens that the span of man’s life might
reach a century. As Moebius put it, “Schopenhauer as an old man enjoyed
life and was no longer a pessimist” (p. 94). Not long before his death he still
hoped to survive yet another twenty years. It is true that Schopenhauer
never recanted his early pessimistic writings, but that was probably because
he did not fully realise his own mental evolution.
pleasure from the earlier part of her married life, just as a new-born baby
cries, so the impressions from life, especially when they are very keenly
felt, bring more pain than pleasure during a long period of human life. The
sensations and feelings are not stable; they undergo evolution, and when
that takes place more or less normally, it brings about a state of psychical
equilibrium.
And thus my friend, formerly so entrenched in pessimism, came to share
my optimistic view of life. The discussions that we had had for so many
years ended in complete agreement. “However,” said he, “to understand the
value of life, one must have lived long; otherwise one is in the position of a
man blind from his birth to whom are recounted the beauties of colours.” In
a word, my friend towards the end of his life changed from abject
pessimism to complete optimism.
Such a transformation or evolution cannot be regarded as unusual. In The
Nature of Man, I showed that most of the great pessimistic writers had been
young men. Such were Buddha, Byron, Leopardi, Schopenhauer, Hartmann,
and Mailaender, and there might be added many other names of less well
known men.
The question has often been asked why Schopenhauer, who was certainly
sincere in his philosophy and who extolled Nirvana as the perfect state,
came to have a strong attachment to life, instead of putting it to a premature
end as was done later on by Mailaender. The reason was that the
philosopher of Frankfort lived long enough to acquire a strong instinct of
life. M. Moebius,184 a well-known authority on madness, has made a close
investigation of Schopenhauer’s biography, and has established the fact that
towards the end of his life his views were tinged with optimistic colours.
On his seventieth anniversary, he took pleasure in the consoling idea of the
Hindoo Oupanischad and of Flourens that the span of man’s life might
reach a century. As Moebius put it, “Schopenhauer as an old man enjoyed
life and was no longer a pessimist” (p. 94). Not long before his death he still
hoped to survive yet another twenty years. It is true that Schopenhauer
never recanted his early pessimistic writings, but that was probably because
he did not fully realise his own mental evolution.
Page 197
In looking through the work of modern psychologists, I cannot find
recognition of the cycle of evolution of the human mind. In Kowalevsky’s
able and conscientious study of pessimism, I was specially struck by one
phrase. “Evils such as hunger, disease, and death are equally terrible at all
stages of life and in every rank of society” (p. 95) said that author. I notice
here a failure to recognise the modification of the emotions in the course of
life which, none the less, is one of the great facts of human nature. Fear of
death is by no means equally great at all stages of life. A child is ignorant of
death and has no conscious aversion from it. The youth and the young man
know that death is a terrible thing, but they have not the horror of it that
comes to a mature man in whom the instinct of life has become fully
developed. And we see that young men are careless of the laws of hygiene,
whilst old men devote to them sedulous attention. This difference is
probably a notable cause of pessimism in young men. In his studies of the
mind, Moebius185 has stated his view that pessimism is a phase of youth
which is succeeded by a serener spirit. “One may remain a pessimist in
theory,” he says, “but actually to be one, it is necessary to be young. As
years increase, a man clings more firmly to life.” “When an old man is free
from melancholia, he is not a pessimist at heart.” “We cannot yet explain
clearly the psychology of the pessimism of the young, but at least we can
lay down the proposition that it is a disease of youth” (p. 182).
The cases of Schopenhauer and of the man of science whose psychical
history I have sketched fully confirm the view of the alienist of Leipzig.
The conception that there is an evolution of the instinct of life in the course
of the development of a human being is the true foundation of optimistic
philosophy. It is so important that it should be examined with the minutest
care. Our senses are capable of great cultivation. Artists develop the sense
of colour far beyond the point attained by ordinary men, and distinguish
shades that others do not notice. Hearing, taste, and smell also can be
educated. Wine tasters have an appreciation of wine much more acute than
that of other men. A friend of mine, who does not drink wine, can
distinguish burgundy from claret only by the shapes of the bottles, but is
devoted to tea and has a very fine palate for different blends. I do not know
if a good palate is a natural gift, but however this may be, it is certain that
the palate can be brought to a high condition of perfection.
recognition of the cycle of evolution of the human mind. In Kowalevsky’s
able and conscientious study of pessimism, I was specially struck by one
phrase. “Evils such as hunger, disease, and death are equally terrible at all
stages of life and in every rank of society” (p. 95) said that author. I notice
here a failure to recognise the modification of the emotions in the course of
life which, none the less, is one of the great facts of human nature. Fear of
death is by no means equally great at all stages of life. A child is ignorant of
death and has no conscious aversion from it. The youth and the young man
know that death is a terrible thing, but they have not the horror of it that
comes to a mature man in whom the instinct of life has become fully
developed. And we see that young men are careless of the laws of hygiene,
whilst old men devote to them sedulous attention. This difference is
probably a notable cause of pessimism in young men. In his studies of the
mind, Moebius185 has stated his view that pessimism is a phase of youth
which is succeeded by a serener spirit. “One may remain a pessimist in
theory,” he says, “but actually to be one, it is necessary to be young. As
years increase, a man clings more firmly to life.” “When an old man is free
from melancholia, he is not a pessimist at heart.” “We cannot yet explain
clearly the psychology of the pessimism of the young, but at least we can
lay down the proposition that it is a disease of youth” (p. 182).
The cases of Schopenhauer and of the man of science whose psychical
history I have sketched fully confirm the view of the alienist of Leipzig.
The conception that there is an evolution of the instinct of life in the course
of the development of a human being is the true foundation of optimistic
philosophy. It is so important that it should be examined with the minutest
care. Our senses are capable of great cultivation. Artists develop the sense
of colour far beyond the point attained by ordinary men, and distinguish
shades that others do not notice. Hearing, taste, and smell also can be
educated. Wine tasters have an appreciation of wine much more acute than
that of other men. A friend of mine, who does not drink wine, can
distinguish burgundy from claret only by the shapes of the bottles, but is
devoted to tea and has a very fine palate for different blends. I do not know
if a good palate is a natural gift, but however this may be, it is certain that
the palate can be brought to a high condition of perfection.
Page 198
The development of the senses is specially notable in the case of the blind
in whom other powers become extremely acute. As I thought that
investigation of the educability of other senses in blind persons very
important from the point of view of the development of the sense of life, I
have tried to obtain the best available information on the question. The
perfection of touch in the blind is accepted so generally as a truth that one
would have expected to find convincing facts in its favour. However, it is
not true. Griesbach,186 using a well-known method for estimating tactile
discrimination, found that the sense of touch is not more acute in the blind
than in normal persons. Blind persons distinguished the points of a pair of
compasses as separate, only when they were at least as far apart as in case
of normal persons. Dr. Javal,187 a well-known oculist who himself became
blind, stated his surprise at finding that “tactile discrimination is quite
notably less acute in the case of the blind than in the case of those with
unimpaired vision. For instance, the index finger of a blind man who was a
great reader got separate sensations from the points of a pair of compasses
only when these were three millimetres apart, whilst a man with normal
sight had the double sensation at a distance of two millimetres” (p. 123).
Griesbach goes still farther, stating that neither hearing nor smell is better
developed in the blind than amongst normal people. Although these senses
may come to replace to a certain extent the sense of sight, this occurs
merely because the blind person uses impressions which the clear-sighted
person hardly notices. As we see what is going on around us, we do not
concentrate our attention on the different sounds and smells or other such
phenomena. The blind person, on the other hand, not being absorbed by
impressions of sight, gives attention to the others. Such and such a sound
tells him that the garden gate of his neighbour has been opened to let out a
carriage which he must avoid. A particular smell lets him recognise the
place where he is, as stable or kitchen.
From the present point of view, it is not exactly the acuteness of the senses
which is most important. The acuteness might be equal in a blind person
and in a normal person. It might even be greater in the latter, and yet it is
only the blind person who can decipher without difficulty raised points so
as to understand their meaning as well as when a normal person reads a
printed book. This power of the blind person is developed only after a long
period of learning, and depends on the appreciation of very delicate tactile
in whom other powers become extremely acute. As I thought that
investigation of the educability of other senses in blind persons very
important from the point of view of the development of the sense of life, I
have tried to obtain the best available information on the question. The
perfection of touch in the blind is accepted so generally as a truth that one
would have expected to find convincing facts in its favour. However, it is
not true. Griesbach,186 using a well-known method for estimating tactile
discrimination, found that the sense of touch is not more acute in the blind
than in normal persons. Blind persons distinguished the points of a pair of
compasses as separate, only when they were at least as far apart as in case
of normal persons. Dr. Javal,187 a well-known oculist who himself became
blind, stated his surprise at finding that “tactile discrimination is quite
notably less acute in the case of the blind than in the case of those with
unimpaired vision. For instance, the index finger of a blind man who was a
great reader got separate sensations from the points of a pair of compasses
only when these were three millimetres apart, whilst a man with normal
sight had the double sensation at a distance of two millimetres” (p. 123).
Griesbach goes still farther, stating that neither hearing nor smell is better
developed in the blind than amongst normal people. Although these senses
may come to replace to a certain extent the sense of sight, this occurs
merely because the blind person uses impressions which the clear-sighted
person hardly notices. As we see what is going on around us, we do not
concentrate our attention on the different sounds and smells or other such
phenomena. The blind person, on the other hand, not being absorbed by
impressions of sight, gives attention to the others. Such and such a sound
tells him that the garden gate of his neighbour has been opened to let out a
carriage which he must avoid. A particular smell lets him recognise the
place where he is, as stable or kitchen.
From the present point of view, it is not exactly the acuteness of the senses
which is most important. The acuteness might be equal in a blind person
and in a normal person. It might even be greater in the latter, and yet it is
only the blind person who can decipher without difficulty raised points so
as to understand their meaning as well as when a normal person reads a
printed book. This power of the blind person is developed only after a long
period of learning, and depends on the appreciation of very delicate tactile
Page 199
impressions. I must point out, moreover, that the method of deciding by
means of a pair of compasses gives information only with regard to one side
of the tactile sense.
However, although we admit that blind people do not really gain anything
in the four remaining senses, there is developed in them a special kind of
sensibility, which is spoken of in their case as a sixth sense, the “sense of
obstacles.” Blind people, especially those who have lost their sight in youth,
acquire a surprising habit of avoiding obstacles and of recognising at a
distance objects round about them. Blind children, for instance, can play in
a garden, without knocking themselves against the trees.
Dr. Javal188 states that some blind people, when passing in front of a house,
can count the ground floor windows. A professor, who had been blind from
the age of four years, could walk in the garden without striking against a
tree or post. He appreciated a wall at a distance of two metres from it. One
day, going for the first time into a large apartment, he recognised the
presence of a big piece of furniture in the middle, which he took to be a
billiard table.
Another blind man, walking in the street, could distinguish houses from
shops and could count the number of doors and windows. The existence of
this sense of obstacles rests upon so many exact facts that it is indubitable.
The opinions as to the mechanism by which it operates, however, are very
varied. Dr. Zell189 thinks that it is not a sense peculiar to blind people and
“that those of normal sight could equally well acquire it by practice,
because it exists in nearly everyone without being noticed.” None the less,
there are some blind people who, even in the course of years, do not acquire
it. M. Javal, for instance, learnt to read with his fingers extremely well, but
was never able to distinguish obstacles at a distance.
The most probable hypothesis refers this sixth sense to the action of the
tympanic membrane and the auditory apparatus. It is known that loud noise
makes it more difficult to perceive obstacles, and snow, by dulling the
sound of steps, has a precisely similar effect. Blind tuners, in whom the
sense of hearing is well developed, have the sixth sense very marked.
The examples I have given show that the human body possesses senses
which come into operation only in special conditions, and which require a
special education. The “sense of life” to a certain extent comes within this
means of a pair of compasses gives information only with regard to one side
of the tactile sense.
However, although we admit that blind people do not really gain anything
in the four remaining senses, there is developed in them a special kind of
sensibility, which is spoken of in their case as a sixth sense, the “sense of
obstacles.” Blind people, especially those who have lost their sight in youth,
acquire a surprising habit of avoiding obstacles and of recognising at a
distance objects round about them. Blind children, for instance, can play in
a garden, without knocking themselves against the trees.
Dr. Javal188 states that some blind people, when passing in front of a house,
can count the ground floor windows. A professor, who had been blind from
the age of four years, could walk in the garden without striking against a
tree or post. He appreciated a wall at a distance of two metres from it. One
day, going for the first time into a large apartment, he recognised the
presence of a big piece of furniture in the middle, which he took to be a
billiard table.
Another blind man, walking in the street, could distinguish houses from
shops and could count the number of doors and windows. The existence of
this sense of obstacles rests upon so many exact facts that it is indubitable.
The opinions as to the mechanism by which it operates, however, are very
varied. Dr. Zell189 thinks that it is not a sense peculiar to blind people and
“that those of normal sight could equally well acquire it by practice,
because it exists in nearly everyone without being noticed.” None the less,
there are some blind people who, even in the course of years, do not acquire
it. M. Javal, for instance, learnt to read with his fingers extremely well, but
was never able to distinguish obstacles at a distance.
The most probable hypothesis refers this sixth sense to the action of the
tympanic membrane and the auditory apparatus. It is known that loud noise
makes it more difficult to perceive obstacles, and snow, by dulling the
sound of steps, has a precisely similar effect. Blind tuners, in whom the
sense of hearing is well developed, have the sixth sense very marked.
The examples I have given show that the human body possesses senses
which come into operation only in special conditions, and which require a
special education. The “sense of life” to a certain extent comes within this
Page 200
category. In some persons it develops very imperfectly, generally revealing
itself only late in life, but sometimes a disease or the danger of losing life
stimulates its earlier development. Occasionally in persons who have tried
to commit suicide, a strong instinct of life wakens suddenly, and impels
them to make frantic efforts to escape.
It happens, therefore, that the sense of life develops sometimes in healthy
people, sometimes in those who suffer from acute or chronic disease. These
variations are parallel with the development of the sexual instinct, which in
some women is completely absent and in others develops only very late. In
certain cases, it is awakened only by special conditions, such as child-birth,
or even some defect of health.
As the sense of life can be developed, special pains ought to be taken with
it, just as with the making perfect of the other senses in the blind. Young
people who are inclined to pessimism ought to be informed that their
condition of mind is only temporary, and that according to the laws of
human nature it will later on be replaced by optimism.
itself only late in life, but sometimes a disease or the danger of losing life
stimulates its earlier development. Occasionally in persons who have tried
to commit suicide, a strong instinct of life wakens suddenly, and impels
them to make frantic efforts to escape.
It happens, therefore, that the sense of life develops sometimes in healthy
people, sometimes in those who suffer from acute or chronic disease. These
variations are parallel with the development of the sexual instinct, which in
some women is completely absent and in others develops only very late. In
certain cases, it is awakened only by special conditions, such as child-birth,
or even some defect of health.
As the sense of life can be developed, special pains ought to be taken with
it, just as with the making perfect of the other senses in the blind. Young
people who are inclined to pessimism ought to be informed that their
condition of mind is only temporary, and that according to the laws of
human nature it will later on be replaced by optimism.
Page 201
PART VIII
GOETHE AND FAUST
I
GOETHE’S YOUTH
Goethe’s youth—Pessimism of youth—Werther—Tendency to suicide—Work and love—
Goethe’s conception of life in his maturity
There can be drawn from analysis of the lives of great men information that
is very important in the study of the constitution of man. I have chosen
Goethe for several reasons. He was a man of genius distinguished by the
comprehensive character of his ability. He was a poet and dramatist of the
highest rank, his mind was stored with the most varied knowledge, and he
contributed to the advancement of natural science. As minister of state and
as the director of a theatre, he was occupied with practical affairs. He
reached the age of eighty-three years, and he passed through the phases of
life in relatively normal circumstances; in his many writings there are most
valuable facts which throw a keen light on his life and nature. The Goethe
cult in Germany has brought about the existence of fuller biographical
details than exist regarding any other great man. He aspired to lead “the
higher life,” and, throughout his existence, he occupied himself with the
most serious problems of humanity.
It is not surprising that Goethe became a subject of investigation for me, but
as the main facts as to his history are widely known I need not elaborate
them here.
Goethe was reared in circumstances that were favourable in every respect,
and from his earliest years showed remarkable traits. As his memory was
good and his imagination vast, the study of ancient and modern languages
and the routine curriculum of a classical education were little more than an
amusement to him. The rich library of his father placed all sorts of books at
his disposal, and whilst he was still young he devoted himself to reading
with the enthusiasm and passion that were the chief qualities of his
GOETHE AND FAUST
I
GOETHE’S YOUTH
Goethe’s youth—Pessimism of youth—Werther—Tendency to suicide—Work and love—
Goethe’s conception of life in his maturity
There can be drawn from analysis of the lives of great men information that
is very important in the study of the constitution of man. I have chosen
Goethe for several reasons. He was a man of genius distinguished by the
comprehensive character of his ability. He was a poet and dramatist of the
highest rank, his mind was stored with the most varied knowledge, and he
contributed to the advancement of natural science. As minister of state and
as the director of a theatre, he was occupied with practical affairs. He
reached the age of eighty-three years, and he passed through the phases of
life in relatively normal circumstances; in his many writings there are most
valuable facts which throw a keen light on his life and nature. The Goethe
cult in Germany has brought about the existence of fuller biographical
details than exist regarding any other great man. He aspired to lead “the
higher life,” and, throughout his existence, he occupied himself with the
most serious problems of humanity.
It is not surprising that Goethe became a subject of investigation for me, but
as the main facts as to his history are widely known I need not elaborate
them here.
Goethe was reared in circumstances that were favourable in every respect,
and from his earliest years showed remarkable traits. As his memory was
good and his imagination vast, the study of ancient and modern languages
and the routine curriculum of a classical education were little more than an
amusement to him. The rich library of his father placed all sorts of books at
his disposal, and whilst he was still young he devoted himself to reading
with the enthusiasm and passion that were the chief qualities of his
Page 202
character. When he was fifteen years old he began to write verses, although
he was still unconscious of his destiny as a poet. He intended to be a
learned man, and looked forward to the career of a professor.
At the age of sixteen, he entered the University of Leipzig with the
intention of studying natural science seriously. Law and philosophy
interested him but little; he turned to natural science and medicine, although
his actual study was rather superficial. His disposition was lively and
restless; he made many friends, frequented the theatre and plunged into all
kinds of gaiety. Extracts from letters he wrote during this period show the
kind of life he led. When he was a student, eighteen years old, he wrote to a
friend, “And so good-night; I am drunk as a hog.” A month later, to the
same friend, he summed up his life as a “delirium in the arms of Jetty.”
He graduated in law at Strassburg, and became a barrister, but realising that
such a career was unsuitable, he became a man of letters, encouraged by the
success of his first literary efforts.
From the point of view of a writer, he sought all kinds of experiences. He
devoted himself to literature and science, including even the occult
sciences, and frequented the theatre and society. He was specially attracted
by the imaginative side and gave little thought to the problems of science.
“I must have movement,” he wrote in one of his note-books.
When he was young, his temper was violent and he fell into fits of
passionate rage. His contemporaries have related that when he was in such a
condition he would destroy the illustrations and tear up the books on his
work-table. These experiences have been vividly described in his famous
romance, The Sorrows of Werther. I shall give a few extracts to show the
exact state of mind of the young pessimist. “It is the fate of some men not to
be understood.” “Human life is a dream; I am not the first to say that, but
the idea haunts me. When I reflect on the narrow limits which circumscribe
the powers of man, his activities and intelligence; when I see how we
exhaust our forces in satisfying our wants and that these wants are for no
more than the prolongation of a miserable existence; that our acquiescence
in so much is merely resignation engendered by dreams, like that of a
prisoner who has covered the walls of his cell with pictures and new
landscapes; such things, my friend, plunge me into silence.” “Our learned
teachers all agree that children do not know why they have desires; but that
he was still unconscious of his destiny as a poet. He intended to be a
learned man, and looked forward to the career of a professor.
At the age of sixteen, he entered the University of Leipzig with the
intention of studying natural science seriously. Law and philosophy
interested him but little; he turned to natural science and medicine, although
his actual study was rather superficial. His disposition was lively and
restless; he made many friends, frequented the theatre and plunged into all
kinds of gaiety. Extracts from letters he wrote during this period show the
kind of life he led. When he was a student, eighteen years old, he wrote to a
friend, “And so good-night; I am drunk as a hog.” A month later, to the
same friend, he summed up his life as a “delirium in the arms of Jetty.”
He graduated in law at Strassburg, and became a barrister, but realising that
such a career was unsuitable, he became a man of letters, encouraged by the
success of his first literary efforts.
From the point of view of a writer, he sought all kinds of experiences. He
devoted himself to literature and science, including even the occult
sciences, and frequented the theatre and society. He was specially attracted
by the imaginative side and gave little thought to the problems of science.
“I must have movement,” he wrote in one of his note-books.
When he was young, his temper was violent and he fell into fits of
passionate rage. His contemporaries have related that when he was in such a
condition he would destroy the illustrations and tear up the books on his
work-table. These experiences have been vividly described in his famous
romance, The Sorrows of Werther. I shall give a few extracts to show the
exact state of mind of the young pessimist. “It is the fate of some men not to
be understood.” “Human life is a dream; I am not the first to say that, but
the idea haunts me. When I reflect on the narrow limits which circumscribe
the powers of man, his activities and intelligence; when I see how we
exhaust our forces in satisfying our wants and that these wants are for no
more than the prolongation of a miserable existence; that our acquiescence
in so much is merely resignation engendered by dreams, like that of a
prisoner who has covered the walls of his cell with pictures and new
landscapes; such things, my friend, plunge me into silence.” “Our learned
teachers all agree that children do not know why they have desires; but that
Page 203
grown men should move on the earth like children, and, like these, be
ignorant whence they have come and whither they go, like these strive little
for real things, but be ruled by cakes and sweets and rods; no one will
believe such things, though their truth is patent. I admit readily (for I know
what you will say) that they are the happiest men who live from day to day
like children, who play with their dolls, dress them and undress them, who
reverence the cupboard where mamma keeps the gingerbread, and who,
when they have got what they wish, cry, with their mouths full, ‘How happy
we are!’”
Werther proclaimed his pessimism before his romance with Charlotte, and it
was his view of life that made his love-affair turn out unhappily. But the
fame of Goethe’s Werther was due, not to the tragic fate of the young lover,
but to the general views which were in harmony with the conception of the
world held by the best minds of the time. Byronism was born before Byron.
Werther affords a good illustration of the disharmonies in the development
of man’s psychical nature. Inclination and desires develop extremely
strongly and before will. Just as in the development of the reproductive
functions, as I showed in The Nature of Man, the different factors develop
unequally and unharmoniously, so there is inequality and disharmony in the
order of the appearance of the higher psychical faculties. Sexual
appreciation and a vague attraction to the other sex appear at a time when
there can be no possibility of the normal physical side of sex, with the result
that many evils come about in the long period of youth. The precocious
development of sensibility brings about a kind of diffused hyperæsthesia
which may lead to trouble. The infant wishes to lay hold of everything he
sees before him; he stretches out his arms to grasp the moon and suffers
from his inability to gratify his desires. In youth there is still well-marked
disharmony. Young people cannot realise the true relations of things, and
formulate their desires before they understand that their will-power is not
strong enough to gratify them, as will is the latest of the human powers to
develop.
Werther fell in love with a kindred spirit and gave way to his passion
without consideration of the difficulties, Charlotte being already betrothed
to another. This is the plot of the tragedy of the young man, who committed
suicide, having given way to pessimism. He had not the will-power to
ignorant whence they have come and whither they go, like these strive little
for real things, but be ruled by cakes and sweets and rods; no one will
believe such things, though their truth is patent. I admit readily (for I know
what you will say) that they are the happiest men who live from day to day
like children, who play with their dolls, dress them and undress them, who
reverence the cupboard where mamma keeps the gingerbread, and who,
when they have got what they wish, cry, with their mouths full, ‘How happy
we are!’”
Werther proclaimed his pessimism before his romance with Charlotte, and it
was his view of life that made his love-affair turn out unhappily. But the
fame of Goethe’s Werther was due, not to the tragic fate of the young lover,
but to the general views which were in harmony with the conception of the
world held by the best minds of the time. Byronism was born before Byron.
Werther affords a good illustration of the disharmonies in the development
of man’s psychical nature. Inclination and desires develop extremely
strongly and before will. Just as in the development of the reproductive
functions, as I showed in The Nature of Man, the different factors develop
unequally and unharmoniously, so there is inequality and disharmony in the
order of the appearance of the higher psychical faculties. Sexual
appreciation and a vague attraction to the other sex appear at a time when
there can be no possibility of the normal physical side of sex, with the result
that many evils come about in the long period of youth. The precocious
development of sensibility brings about a kind of diffused hyperæsthesia
which may lead to trouble. The infant wishes to lay hold of everything he
sees before him; he stretches out his arms to grasp the moon and suffers
from his inability to gratify his desires. In youth there is still well-marked
disharmony. Young people cannot realise the true relations of things, and
formulate their desires before they understand that their will-power is not
strong enough to gratify them, as will is the latest of the human powers to
develop.
Werther fell in love with a kindred spirit and gave way to his passion
without consideration of the difficulties, Charlotte being already betrothed
to another. This is the plot of the tragedy of the young man, who committed
suicide, having given way to pessimism. He had not the will-power to
Page 204
conquer his sentiments and so fell into a state of lassitude, until, weary of
life, he could see no other end than to blow out his brains.
I need not linger over the last phase of the story of Werther, for it is the
character of Goethe himself that is of interest. Goethe was able to subdue
his passion for Lotte, and, after many amorous woes, consoled himself with
another woman. Notwithstanding this difference, it is certain that in
Werther, Goethe was telling part of the story of his own youth. Goethe
himself is a witness to this, for in a letter to Kestner he wrote that “he was
at work on the artistic reproduction of his own case.” The letter was written
in July, 1773, whilst Goethe, then a writer twenty-four years old, was
relating the sorrows of young Werther.
The general tendency of Werther has been described excellently by
Carlyle.190 “Werther,” he wrote, “is but the cry of that dim, rooted pain,
under which all thoughtful men of a certain age were languishing; it paints
the misery, it passionately utters the complaint; and heart and voice, all over
Europe, loudly and at once responded to it.” Werther was “the first thrilling
peal of that impassioned dirge which, in country after country, men’s ears
have listened to, till they were deaf to all else.”
In the pessimistic period of his life, Goethe often cherished the idea of
suicide. In his biography he relates that at this time he used to have, by his
bedside, a poisoned dagger, and that he had repeatedly tried to plunge it in
his bosom. Of these times he wrote to his friend Zelter191—“I know what it
has cost me in effort to resist the waves of death.” The suicide which was
the subject of the end of his romance made a deep impression upon him.
Although he overcame his passion for Charlotte, his view of life remained
tinged with pessimism for many years; in a note-book of 1773, for instance,
he wrote “I am not made for this world.”192 These words are the more
striking as they date from a period when exact ideas regarding the
adaptation of the organism and the character to the environment did not
exist. Goethe, with his too delicate sensibility, felt himself out of harmony
with his environment.
It is very interesting to trace Goethe’s subsequent development and the
transformation of a youthful pessimist into a convinced optimist. Goethe
found a remedy for his crises of grief in work, poetical creation and love.
He declared that the mere describing his woes on paper brought
life, he could see no other end than to blow out his brains.
I need not linger over the last phase of the story of Werther, for it is the
character of Goethe himself that is of interest. Goethe was able to subdue
his passion for Lotte, and, after many amorous woes, consoled himself with
another woman. Notwithstanding this difference, it is certain that in
Werther, Goethe was telling part of the story of his own youth. Goethe
himself is a witness to this, for in a letter to Kestner he wrote that “he was
at work on the artistic reproduction of his own case.” The letter was written
in July, 1773, whilst Goethe, then a writer twenty-four years old, was
relating the sorrows of young Werther.
The general tendency of Werther has been described excellently by
Carlyle.190 “Werther,” he wrote, “is but the cry of that dim, rooted pain,
under which all thoughtful men of a certain age were languishing; it paints
the misery, it passionately utters the complaint; and heart and voice, all over
Europe, loudly and at once responded to it.” Werther was “the first thrilling
peal of that impassioned dirge which, in country after country, men’s ears
have listened to, till they were deaf to all else.”
In the pessimistic period of his life, Goethe often cherished the idea of
suicide. In his biography he relates that at this time he used to have, by his
bedside, a poisoned dagger, and that he had repeatedly tried to plunge it in
his bosom. Of these times he wrote to his friend Zelter191—“I know what it
has cost me in effort to resist the waves of death.” The suicide which was
the subject of the end of his romance made a deep impression upon him.
Although he overcame his passion for Charlotte, his view of life remained
tinged with pessimism for many years; in a note-book of 1773, for instance,
he wrote “I am not made for this world.”192 These words are the more
striking as they date from a period when exact ideas regarding the
adaptation of the organism and the character to the environment did not
exist. Goethe, with his too delicate sensibility, felt himself out of harmony
with his environment.
It is very interesting to trace Goethe’s subsequent development and the
transformation of a youthful pessimist into a convinced optimist. Goethe
found a remedy for his crises of grief in work, poetical creation and love.
He declared that the mere describing his woes on paper brought
Page 205
assuagement. The tears that they shed console women and children; and the
poetry in which he expresses his suffering consoles the poet. Goethe’s
romance with Charlotte was not quite at an end when he found himself
ready to love her sister Helen. He wrote to Kestner in December, 1772:—“I
was about to ask you if Helen had arrived, when I got the letter telling me
of her return.” “To judge from her portrait she must be charming, even more
charming than Charlotte. Well, I am free and I am thirsting for love.” “I am
here at Frankfort again with new plans and new dreams, and all will be well
if I find someone to love.” Soon afterwards, in another letter to Kestner, he
wrote:—“Tell Charlotte that I have found here a girl whom I love with all
my heart; if I wanted to marry, I should choose her before anyone else.”
As he had not yet realised his true vocation, Goethe became a court minister
at Weimar. He devoted himself to his duties with an enthusiasm that carried
him far beyond the usual affairs of state. He wished to deepen his
knowledge of such administrative problems as the construction of roads and
the management of mines, and he studied geology and mineralogy with a
real zest. Forest administration and agriculture led him seriously into
botany, and as he had the direction of a school of design, he thought it
necessary to learn anatomy. Such varied work gave him a real taste for
science. It was no longer the superficial interest that characterised his work
at Leipzig and Strassburg but a true devotion which led him to important
discoveries, some of which have become classic.
Even such varied occupations did not absorb his prodigious genius. In his
leisure he wrote poetry and prose. Engrossed in so much work, he was
happy. His discovery of the human intermaxillary bone suffused him with
joy. His intense activity was strengthened by his love for Madame von
Stein, a love that he declared was “a life-belt supporting him in the sea.” A
few hours with her in the evenings set free his soul.
The powerful influence of love on the life of Goethe was specially
prominent in this period when he was passing from pessimistic youth to
optimistic maturity. Being forced to separate from Madame von Stein, he
gave way to grief that plunged him again in the worst hours of his life. At
the age of thirty-seven he fell back into a crisis like that of the days of
Werther. “I have discovered,” he said in 1786, “that the author of Werther
would have done well to blow out his brains when he had finished his
poetry in which he expresses his suffering consoles the poet. Goethe’s
romance with Charlotte was not quite at an end when he found himself
ready to love her sister Helen. He wrote to Kestner in December, 1772:—“I
was about to ask you if Helen had arrived, when I got the letter telling me
of her return.” “To judge from her portrait she must be charming, even more
charming than Charlotte. Well, I am free and I am thirsting for love.” “I am
here at Frankfort again with new plans and new dreams, and all will be well
if I find someone to love.” Soon afterwards, in another letter to Kestner, he
wrote:—“Tell Charlotte that I have found here a girl whom I love with all
my heart; if I wanted to marry, I should choose her before anyone else.”
As he had not yet realised his true vocation, Goethe became a court minister
at Weimar. He devoted himself to his duties with an enthusiasm that carried
him far beyond the usual affairs of state. He wished to deepen his
knowledge of such administrative problems as the construction of roads and
the management of mines, and he studied geology and mineralogy with a
real zest. Forest administration and agriculture led him seriously into
botany, and as he had the direction of a school of design, he thought it
necessary to learn anatomy. Such varied work gave him a real taste for
science. It was no longer the superficial interest that characterised his work
at Leipzig and Strassburg but a true devotion which led him to important
discoveries, some of which have become classic.
Even such varied occupations did not absorb his prodigious genius. In his
leisure he wrote poetry and prose. Engrossed in so much work, he was
happy. His discovery of the human intermaxillary bone suffused him with
joy. His intense activity was strengthened by his love for Madame von
Stein, a love that he declared was “a life-belt supporting him in the sea.” A
few hours with her in the evenings set free his soul.
The powerful influence of love on the life of Goethe was specially
prominent in this period when he was passing from pessimistic youth to
optimistic maturity. Being forced to separate from Madame von Stein, he
gave way to grief that plunged him again in the worst hours of his life. At
the age of thirty-seven he fell back into a crisis like that of the days of
Werther. “I have discovered,” he said in 1786, “that the author of Werther
would have done well to blow out his brains when he had finished his
Page 206
work.” Soon afterwards he wrote that “death would have been better than
the last years of his life.”
This relapse into pessimism was shorter and less acute than his first
experience. He began to find that frequently his delight in existence and
sense of life were proved by his fear of death. When he was little more than
thirty years old, he began to take precautions against the chance of his
death. He wrote to Lavater:—“I have no time to lose; I am already getting
on in years, and it may be that fate will destroy me in the midst of my life.”
On all sides his wish to live and his shrinking from death reveal themselves.
It was at this time, a few days after his thirty-first birthday, that he wrote
those famous lines, counted amongst the finest of his poetry, on the summit
of the Gickelhahn, on the wall of a small room, and which end with the
presentiment of his own death, “Before long, you also will be at rest.”
The crisis through which he passed at the age of thirty-seven, as the
immediate result of his separation from Madame von Stein, but perhaps
also partly due to brain fatigue, brought about his sudden departure from
Weimar and his long sojourn in Italy. There he came to life again, and
everything interested him, archæology, art and nature. The joy of life came
back to him, and he soon consoled himself for the lost love of the blue-
stocking Baroness in the arms of a pretty, blue-eyed girl of Milan. This girl,
whose name was Maddalena Riggi, like Charlotte, was already betrothed, a
circumstance, however, that had a different result. Even after she had given
up the man to whom she had been engaged, Goethe avoided any permanent
bond and soon abandoned her definitely. He chose to associate with
Faustine, another Italian girl, with whom he lived during the last period of
his stay at Rome. This affair, which was less ideal and much simpler than
his love for Madame von Stein, he has described in his Roman Elegies,
which throw a vivid light on his temperament. I shall give some
characteristic extracts.
“A sacred enthusiasm inspires me on this classic soil; the old world and the
world around me raise their voices and draw me to them. Here I follow the
ideas and turn over the pages of the ancient writers, giving myself no rest
whilst day lasts and ever reaching new delights. By night love calls me to
other cares; and if I am only half a philosopher, I am twice happy. But may
I not say that I am also learning when my eye follows the contours of a
loving breast, when with my hand I trace the lines of her form? It is then
the last years of his life.”
This relapse into pessimism was shorter and less acute than his first
experience. He began to find that frequently his delight in existence and
sense of life were proved by his fear of death. When he was little more than
thirty years old, he began to take precautions against the chance of his
death. He wrote to Lavater:—“I have no time to lose; I am already getting
on in years, and it may be that fate will destroy me in the midst of my life.”
On all sides his wish to live and his shrinking from death reveal themselves.
It was at this time, a few days after his thirty-first birthday, that he wrote
those famous lines, counted amongst the finest of his poetry, on the summit
of the Gickelhahn, on the wall of a small room, and which end with the
presentiment of his own death, “Before long, you also will be at rest.”
The crisis through which he passed at the age of thirty-seven, as the
immediate result of his separation from Madame von Stein, but perhaps
also partly due to brain fatigue, brought about his sudden departure from
Weimar and his long sojourn in Italy. There he came to life again, and
everything interested him, archæology, art and nature. The joy of life came
back to him, and he soon consoled himself for the lost love of the blue-
stocking Baroness in the arms of a pretty, blue-eyed girl of Milan. This girl,
whose name was Maddalena Riggi, like Charlotte, was already betrothed, a
circumstance, however, that had a different result. Even after she had given
up the man to whom she had been engaged, Goethe avoided any permanent
bond and soon abandoned her definitely. He chose to associate with
Faustine, another Italian girl, with whom he lived during the last period of
his stay at Rome. This affair, which was less ideal and much simpler than
his love for Madame von Stein, he has described in his Roman Elegies,
which throw a vivid light on his temperament. I shall give some
characteristic extracts.
“A sacred enthusiasm inspires me on this classic soil; the old world and the
world around me raise their voices and draw me to them. Here I follow the
ideas and turn over the pages of the ancient writers, giving myself no rest
whilst day lasts and ever reaching new delights. By night love calls me to
other cares; and if I am only half a philosopher, I am twice happy. But may
I not say that I am also learning when my eye follows the contours of a
loving breast, when with my hand I trace the lines of her form? It is then
Page 207
that I understand marble, I think and compare, I see with an eye that
touches and touch with a hand that sees.” “Often I have made verses in her
arms; often my playful finger has softly beaten out my hexameters on her
back. As she breathes in her sweet sleep, her breath burns me to my
innermost soul.”193
His stay in Italy brought Goethe definitely to maturity. On this important
stage in his life let us hear his biographer, Bielschowsky. “The voyage to
Italy made a new man of him. His sickliness and nervousness disappeared.
The melancholy which led him to think of early death and made him regard
death as better than the former conditions of his life was replaced by a
sublime serenity and joy in living. The taciturn and preoccupied man who
in no society abandoned his grave thoughts had become happy as a child”
(vol. i, p. 412). “From this time on, in calm and enviable security, he passed
through the cycle of life which seemed so mysterious to others. Goethe
became the serene Olympian, the wonder of posterity, whilst many of his
contemporaries no longer saw in him the passionate pilgrim” (ibid., p. 417).
It was after reaching the age of forty years that Goethe entered on the
optimistic phase of his life.
II
GOETHE AND OPTIMISM
Goethe’s optimistic period—His mode of life in that period—Influence of love in artistic
production—Inclinations towards the arts must be regarded as secondary sexual characters
—Senile love of Goethe—Relation between genius and the sexual activities
The moral equilibrium of the great writer was not established once for all.
In the course of his life, Goethe had several relapses into pessimism which,
however, were ephemeral, and after which he became a man as complete
and harmonious as was possible in the circumstances of his life. He reached
a serene old age, and his activity did not relax until after his eightieth year,
when he died.
touches and touch with a hand that sees.” “Often I have made verses in her
arms; often my playful finger has softly beaten out my hexameters on her
back. As she breathes in her sweet sleep, her breath burns me to my
innermost soul.”193
His stay in Italy brought Goethe definitely to maturity. On this important
stage in his life let us hear his biographer, Bielschowsky. “The voyage to
Italy made a new man of him. His sickliness and nervousness disappeared.
The melancholy which led him to think of early death and made him regard
death as better than the former conditions of his life was replaced by a
sublime serenity and joy in living. The taciturn and preoccupied man who
in no society abandoned his grave thoughts had become happy as a child”
(vol. i, p. 412). “From this time on, in calm and enviable security, he passed
through the cycle of life which seemed so mysterious to others. Goethe
became the serene Olympian, the wonder of posterity, whilst many of his
contemporaries no longer saw in him the passionate pilgrim” (ibid., p. 417).
It was after reaching the age of forty years that Goethe entered on the
optimistic phase of his life.
II
GOETHE AND OPTIMISM
Goethe’s optimistic period—His mode of life in that period—Influence of love in artistic
production—Inclinations towards the arts must be regarded as secondary sexual characters
—Senile love of Goethe—Relation between genius and the sexual activities
The moral equilibrium of the great writer was not established once for all.
In the course of his life, Goethe had several relapses into pessimism which,
however, were ephemeral, and after which he became a man as complete
and harmonious as was possible in the circumstances of his life. He reached
a serene old age, and his activity did not relax until after his eightieth year,
when he died.
Page 208
As I have already said, Goethe realised the value of life in good time.
Having become an optimist, he experienced the joy of existence and
coveted as much of it as possible. When he was an old man, he declared
that life, like the Sibylline books, became more valuable the fewer of them
were left. There appeared in him a normal phase of human nature. The
conditions under which he lived, however, were far from ideal. His health
was indifferent. In his youth he suffered from severe hæmorrhage, probably
tuberculous, and throughout his life he was subject to various more or less
serious maladies, such as gout, colic, nephritis, and intestinal troubles. His
habits were unwholesome. He was brought up in a region of vineyards, and
in his youth he acquired the habit of drinking wine in quantities certainly
harmful. This he himself realised, and when he was thirty-one years old,
after he had acquired the instinct of life, he gave it serious attention. “I wish
I could abstain from wine,” he wrote in his note-book. Some weeks later he
wrote, “I now drink almost no wine.”194
But he had not the strength of character to remain temperate, and soon after
his decision, he had fits of bleeding at the nose, which he attributed to
“having taken some glasses of wine.”195 To his last day, he took wine
regularly, and sometimes to excess. J. H. Wolff, who dined with him at
Weimar, when he was in his eightieth year, was surprised by his appetite
and by the quantity of wine he drank. “In addition to other food, he ate an
enormous portion of roast goose, and drank a bottle of red wine.”196 In
Eckermann’s interesting narrative of the last ten years of Goethe’s life
(1822-1832) there is repeated mention of wine. Goethe seized every
occasion to drink it. Sometimes it was the visit of a stranger, sometimes a
present of some famous vintage. It was said that he drank from one to two
bottles of wine daily (Moebius). None the less, he was convinced that wine
was not good for intellectual work. He had remarked that when his friend
Schiller had drunk more than usual, to increase his strength and stimulate
his literary activity, the result was deplorable. He said to Eckermann (March
11, 1828), “He will ruin his health and will spoil his work. That is why he
has made the faults the critics have pointed out.” In another conversation
(March 11, 1828) he stated that what was written under the influence of
wine was abnormal and forced, and ought to be deleted.
Love was the great stimulus of Goethe’s genius. The love affairs, the
histories of which fill his biography, are well known. Many have been
Having become an optimist, he experienced the joy of existence and
coveted as much of it as possible. When he was an old man, he declared
that life, like the Sibylline books, became more valuable the fewer of them
were left. There appeared in him a normal phase of human nature. The
conditions under which he lived, however, were far from ideal. His health
was indifferent. In his youth he suffered from severe hæmorrhage, probably
tuberculous, and throughout his life he was subject to various more or less
serious maladies, such as gout, colic, nephritis, and intestinal troubles. His
habits were unwholesome. He was brought up in a region of vineyards, and
in his youth he acquired the habit of drinking wine in quantities certainly
harmful. This he himself realised, and when he was thirty-one years old,
after he had acquired the instinct of life, he gave it serious attention. “I wish
I could abstain from wine,” he wrote in his note-book. Some weeks later he
wrote, “I now drink almost no wine.”194
But he had not the strength of character to remain temperate, and soon after
his decision, he had fits of bleeding at the nose, which he attributed to
“having taken some glasses of wine.”195 To his last day, he took wine
regularly, and sometimes to excess. J. H. Wolff, who dined with him at
Weimar, when he was in his eightieth year, was surprised by his appetite
and by the quantity of wine he drank. “In addition to other food, he ate an
enormous portion of roast goose, and drank a bottle of red wine.”196 In
Eckermann’s interesting narrative of the last ten years of Goethe’s life
(1822-1832) there is repeated mention of wine. Goethe seized every
occasion to drink it. Sometimes it was the visit of a stranger, sometimes a
present of some famous vintage. It was said that he drank from one to two
bottles of wine daily (Moebius). None the less, he was convinced that wine
was not good for intellectual work. He had remarked that when his friend
Schiller had drunk more than usual, to increase his strength and stimulate
his literary activity, the result was deplorable. He said to Eckermann (March
11, 1828), “He will ruin his health and will spoil his work. That is why he
has made the faults the critics have pointed out.” In another conversation
(March 11, 1828) he stated that what was written under the influence of
wine was abnormal and forced, and ought to be deleted.
Love was the great stimulus of Goethe’s genius. The love affairs, the
histories of which fill his biography, are well known. Many have been
Page 209
shocked by them; others have tried to justify them. It has been suggested
that his disposition made it necessary for him to impart his ideas and obtain
sympathy for them, and that his love for women was the expression of a
purely artistic feeling and had nothing in common with the ordinary
passion.
The truth is that artistic genius and perhaps all kinds of genius are closely
associated with sexual activity. I agree with the proposition formulated by
Dr. Moebius197 that “artistic proclivities are probably to be regarded as
secondary sexual characters.” Just as the beard and some other male
characters are developed as means of attracting the female sex, so also
bodily strength, strong voice and many of the talents must be regarded as
due to the need to fulfil the sexual relations. In primitive conditions woman
worked more than man; man’s superior force served him principally in
fighting with other males, the object of the combats usually being
possession of a woman. Just as a victorious combatant covets the presence
of a woman as witness of his prowess, so an orator speaks better in the
presence of a woman to whom he is devoted. Singers and poets are
stimulated in their arts by the love they awaken. Poetic genius is intimately
associated with sexual power and castration inhibits it. Just as castrated
animals retain their physical strength, but become changed in character,
losing in particular their combative nature, so a man of genius loses much
of his quality with the sexual function. Amongst the eunuchs on record,
Abelard is the only poet, but Abelard was forty years old when he ceased to
be a man, and at the same time he ceased to be a poet. Many singers have
been eunuchs, but they have been merely executants, and have taken no part
in musical creation. Some musical composers have been eunuchs, but these
were of mediocre ability and their names have been forgotten. When
castration has taken place at an early age, it has a much more powerful
influence in modifying the secondary sexual characters.
From the point of view of a naturalist, I cannot agree with the moralists who
have blamed Goethe for his sexuality, nor do I share the views of those
defenders of him who have wished to deny the facts or to explain them
away by the suggestion that they did not relate to sexual love.
Extracts from the Roman Elegies show quite clearly what was the nature of
Goethe’s love affairs. His feelings towards the Baroness von Stein have
been taken as revealing merely idealistic love. But some of his letters to her
that his disposition made it necessary for him to impart his ideas and obtain
sympathy for them, and that his love for women was the expression of a
purely artistic feeling and had nothing in common with the ordinary
passion.
The truth is that artistic genius and perhaps all kinds of genius are closely
associated with sexual activity. I agree with the proposition formulated by
Dr. Moebius197 that “artistic proclivities are probably to be regarded as
secondary sexual characters.” Just as the beard and some other male
characters are developed as means of attracting the female sex, so also
bodily strength, strong voice and many of the talents must be regarded as
due to the need to fulfil the sexual relations. In primitive conditions woman
worked more than man; man’s superior force served him principally in
fighting with other males, the object of the combats usually being
possession of a woman. Just as a victorious combatant covets the presence
of a woman as witness of his prowess, so an orator speaks better in the
presence of a woman to whom he is devoted. Singers and poets are
stimulated in their arts by the love they awaken. Poetic genius is intimately
associated with sexual power and castration inhibits it. Just as castrated
animals retain their physical strength, but become changed in character,
losing in particular their combative nature, so a man of genius loses much
of his quality with the sexual function. Amongst the eunuchs on record,
Abelard is the only poet, but Abelard was forty years old when he ceased to
be a man, and at the same time he ceased to be a poet. Many singers have
been eunuchs, but they have been merely executants, and have taken no part
in musical creation. Some musical composers have been eunuchs, but these
were of mediocre ability and their names have been forgotten. When
castration has taken place at an early age, it has a much more powerful
influence in modifying the secondary sexual characters.
From the point of view of a naturalist, I cannot agree with the moralists who
have blamed Goethe for his sexuality, nor do I share the views of those
defenders of him who have wished to deny the facts or to explain them
away by the suggestion that they did not relate to sexual love.
Extracts from the Roman Elegies show quite clearly what was the nature of
Goethe’s love affairs. His feelings towards the Baroness von Stein have
been taken as revealing merely idealistic love. But some of his letters to her
Page 210
are clear evidence that their relations were erotic (Moebius, Goethe, vol. ii,
p. 89). The love which he bore for Minna Herzlieb, the girl who inspired
him to write Elective Affinities (Wahlverwandschaften), has been described
by Goethe himself in a poem so crudely erotic that it has been impossible to
publish it (Lewes, vol. ii, p. 314).
A fact to which I specially desire to call attention is that Goethe’s amorous
temperament survived until the end of his life, and all the world has been
astonished by the vigour of his poetic genius in extreme old age.
Goethe has been the subject of derision because at the age of seventy-four
years he fell deeply in love with Ulrique de Lewetzow, who was quite a
young girl. This incident, however, merits close attention as it is a typical
case of senile love in a man of genius.
Whilst he was at Carlsbad, Goethe became acquainted with a pretty girl
seventeen years old, with beautiful blue eyes, brown hair, and of an ardent,
good-humoured and happy disposition. In the first two seasons nothing in
particular happened. But in the third summer, at Marienbad, Goethe became
passionately enamoured of Ulrique, who was then nineteen years old and in
the full bloom of her young womanhood. His love made him young again;
he passed long hours with her and took to dancing with her. “I am quite
certain,” he wrote to his son, “that it is many years since I have enjoyed
such health of body and mind” (Aug. 30, 1823). His passion became so
serious that the Grand Duke of Saxe-Weimar, on behalf of his friend, made
a formal proposal of marriage for Mademoiselle de Lewetzow. The mother
gave an evasive answer, and the matter rested in suspense for long, and
ended in a refusal. Goethe withdrew to his family, but encountered there
strong opposition to his project of marriage.
This misadventure troubled the old poet so seriously that he fell ill. He
suffered from pain in the region of the heart and from profound mental
disturbance. He complained to Eckermann “that he could do nothing, that
he could get to work on nothing, and that his mind had lost its power.” “I
can no longer work,” he said. “I cannot even read, and it is only in rare and
fortunate moments that I can think, feeling myself partially soothed”
(Eckermann, Nov. 16, 1823). Eckermann makes the following reflection on
the state of mind of the great old man. “His trouble seems to be not merely
physical. The passionate desire which he acquired for a young lady at
p. 89). The love which he bore for Minna Herzlieb, the girl who inspired
him to write Elective Affinities (Wahlverwandschaften), has been described
by Goethe himself in a poem so crudely erotic that it has been impossible to
publish it (Lewes, vol. ii, p. 314).
A fact to which I specially desire to call attention is that Goethe’s amorous
temperament survived until the end of his life, and all the world has been
astonished by the vigour of his poetic genius in extreme old age.
Goethe has been the subject of derision because at the age of seventy-four
years he fell deeply in love with Ulrique de Lewetzow, who was quite a
young girl. This incident, however, merits close attention as it is a typical
case of senile love in a man of genius.
Whilst he was at Carlsbad, Goethe became acquainted with a pretty girl
seventeen years old, with beautiful blue eyes, brown hair, and of an ardent,
good-humoured and happy disposition. In the first two seasons nothing in
particular happened. But in the third summer, at Marienbad, Goethe became
passionately enamoured of Ulrique, who was then nineteen years old and in
the full bloom of her young womanhood. His love made him young again;
he passed long hours with her and took to dancing with her. “I am quite
certain,” he wrote to his son, “that it is many years since I have enjoyed
such health of body and mind” (Aug. 30, 1823). His passion became so
serious that the Grand Duke of Saxe-Weimar, on behalf of his friend, made
a formal proposal of marriage for Mademoiselle de Lewetzow. The mother
gave an evasive answer, and the matter rested in suspense for long, and
ended in a refusal. Goethe withdrew to his family, but encountered there
strong opposition to his project of marriage.
This misadventure troubled the old poet so seriously that he fell ill. He
suffered from pain in the region of the heart and from profound mental
disturbance. He complained to Eckermann “that he could do nothing, that
he could get to work on nothing, and that his mind had lost its power.” “I
can no longer work,” he said. “I cannot even read, and it is only in rare and
fortunate moments that I can think, feeling myself partially soothed”
(Eckermann, Nov. 16, 1823). Eckermann makes the following reflection on
the state of mind of the great old man. “His trouble seems to be not merely
physical. The passionate desire which he acquired for a young lady at
Page 211
Marienbad this summer, and against which he is still struggling, must be
regarded as the chief cause of his illness” (Nov. 17, 1823).
As in all earlier crises, Goethe sought consolation in poetry and love. He
left Marienbad in a carriage and began to set down verses astonishingly
vigorous for so old a man. His Marienbad elegy is held to be one of the best
of his poetical achievements. The following extracts will give an idea of his
state of mind at that period.
“I am lost in unconquerable desire; there is nothing left but everlasting
tears. Let them flow, let them flow unceasingly. But they can never
extinguish the fire that burns me. My heart rages; it is torn in pieces, this
heart where life and death meet in a horrible combat.” “I have lost the
universe, I have lost myself, I who until now have been the favourite of the
gods; they have put me to the question, they offered me Pandora, rich in
treasure and still richer in perilous seductions; they made me drunken with
the kisses of her mouth, which gave me its sweets; they have torn me from
her arms, and have struck me with death.”
Goethe concealed his elegy for some time, guarding it as something sacred,
but eventually handed it over to Eckermann. Poetic creation soothed his
mind only for a time. His nature demanded some more efficacious
consolation. A few weeks after the separation he began to complain bitterly
of the absence of the Countess Julie von Egloffstein, whom he wanted very
much. “She cannot know what she is keeping from me and what she makes
me lose, nor can she know how I love her and how she engrosses my
mind.” He derived a little comfort from the visits of Madame
Szymanowska, whom he admired “not only as a great artist, but as a pretty
woman” (Eckermann, Nov. 3, 1823). “I am deeply grateful to this charming
woman,” he said to the chancellor, “for her beauty, her sweetness, and her
art have soothed my passionate heart” (Bode, p. 151). He also renewed his
relations with Marianne Jung, the retired actress and dancer. “When Goethe
had to turn his thoughts from Ulrique, the image of the pretty owner of
Gerbermühle again occupied his mind. A visit to her, and intimate
correspondence with her, restored peace to his heart so greedy of love”
(Bielschowsky, vol. ii, p. 487).
His devotion to Ulrique was Goethe’s last acute attack of love; but until the
end of his days he felt the need of being surrounded by pretty women. As
regarded as the chief cause of his illness” (Nov. 17, 1823).
As in all earlier crises, Goethe sought consolation in poetry and love. He
left Marienbad in a carriage and began to set down verses astonishingly
vigorous for so old a man. His Marienbad elegy is held to be one of the best
of his poetical achievements. The following extracts will give an idea of his
state of mind at that period.
“I am lost in unconquerable desire; there is nothing left but everlasting
tears. Let them flow, let them flow unceasingly. But they can never
extinguish the fire that burns me. My heart rages; it is torn in pieces, this
heart where life and death meet in a horrible combat.” “I have lost the
universe, I have lost myself, I who until now have been the favourite of the
gods; they have put me to the question, they offered me Pandora, rich in
treasure and still richer in perilous seductions; they made me drunken with
the kisses of her mouth, which gave me its sweets; they have torn me from
her arms, and have struck me with death.”
Goethe concealed his elegy for some time, guarding it as something sacred,
but eventually handed it over to Eckermann. Poetic creation soothed his
mind only for a time. His nature demanded some more efficacious
consolation. A few weeks after the separation he began to complain bitterly
of the absence of the Countess Julie von Egloffstein, whom he wanted very
much. “She cannot know what she is keeping from me and what she makes
me lose, nor can she know how I love her and how she engrosses my
mind.” He derived a little comfort from the visits of Madame
Szymanowska, whom he admired “not only as a great artist, but as a pretty
woman” (Eckermann, Nov. 3, 1823). “I am deeply grateful to this charming
woman,” he said to the chancellor, “for her beauty, her sweetness, and her
art have soothed my passionate heart” (Bode, p. 151). He also renewed his
relations with Marianne Jung, the retired actress and dancer. “When Goethe
had to turn his thoughts from Ulrique, the image of the pretty owner of
Gerbermühle again occupied his mind. A visit to her, and intimate
correspondence with her, restored peace to his heart so greedy of love”
(Bielschowsky, vol. ii, p. 487).
His devotion to Ulrique was Goethe’s last acute attack of love; but until the
end of his days he felt the need of being surrounded by pretty women. As
Page 212
director of the theatre, he came in contact with many young women who
wished engagements. He confessed to Eckermann that he required much
strength of mind to resist feminine charms which tempted him to be
unjustly favourable to the prettiest of those who sought employment. “If I
allowed myself to fall into an intrigue of gallantry, I would become like a
demagnetised needle as soon as the girl found a real lover” (Eckermann,
March 22, 1825).
His daughter-in-law’s sister has related that Goethe liked to have young
girls in his study whilst he was at work. They had to sit quietly, neither
working nor talking, often a difficult task for them (Bode, p. 155).
Even on the last day of his life, whilst in delirium, he cried out, “What a
pretty woman’s head with black curls on a black ground” (Lewes, vol. ii, p.
372). After uttering several other more or less incoherent phrases, he drew
his last breath.
The facts which I described in the chapter of this book dealing with old age
have made clear how long sexuality persists in men. As the testes resist
atrophy better than other organs, and even in extreme old age still form
active spermatozoa, it is natural that their condition should be reflected on
the organism generally, and that feelings of love should still be excited. If
by some accident Goethe had become a eunuch early in life, he would have
been a different being. The moralists who have been shocked by his
amorous intrigues would have been satisfied, but the world would have lost
a great poet. Moreover, Goethe is no exceptional case amongst writers. The
temperament of Victor Hugo and his devotion to women up to the end of his
days are well known. More recently, after the death of Ibsen, a profound
sensation was made by the revelation of his love for Mademoiselle
Bardach, who inspired his genius during the last period of his life.
Not only poetic creation but other forms of genius are intimately associated
with the sexual function. The philosopher Schopenhauer, who was no
ascetic, wrote as follows, at the age of twenty-five, when he was in full
creative activity, “In the days and at the hours when the voluptuous instinct
is strongest, when it is a burning covetousness, it is then that the greatest
forces of the mind and the greatest stores of knowledge are ready for the
most intense activity.” “At such moments life is truly at its strongest and
most active, for its two poles are then operating most actively; and this is
wished engagements. He confessed to Eckermann that he required much
strength of mind to resist feminine charms which tempted him to be
unjustly favourable to the prettiest of those who sought employment. “If I
allowed myself to fall into an intrigue of gallantry, I would become like a
demagnetised needle as soon as the girl found a real lover” (Eckermann,
March 22, 1825).
His daughter-in-law’s sister has related that Goethe liked to have young
girls in his study whilst he was at work. They had to sit quietly, neither
working nor talking, often a difficult task for them (Bode, p. 155).
Even on the last day of his life, whilst in delirium, he cried out, “What a
pretty woman’s head with black curls on a black ground” (Lewes, vol. ii, p.
372). After uttering several other more or less incoherent phrases, he drew
his last breath.
The facts which I described in the chapter of this book dealing with old age
have made clear how long sexuality persists in men. As the testes resist
atrophy better than other organs, and even in extreme old age still form
active spermatozoa, it is natural that their condition should be reflected on
the organism generally, and that feelings of love should still be excited. If
by some accident Goethe had become a eunuch early in life, he would have
been a different being. The moralists who have been shocked by his
amorous intrigues would have been satisfied, but the world would have lost
a great poet. Moreover, Goethe is no exceptional case amongst writers. The
temperament of Victor Hugo and his devotion to women up to the end of his
days are well known. More recently, after the death of Ibsen, a profound
sensation was made by the revelation of his love for Mademoiselle
Bardach, who inspired his genius during the last period of his life.
Not only poetic creation but other forms of genius are intimately associated
with the sexual function. The philosopher Schopenhauer, who was no
ascetic, wrote as follows, at the age of twenty-five, when he was in full
creative activity, “In the days and at the hours when the voluptuous instinct
is strongest, when it is a burning covetousness, it is then that the greatest
forces of the mind and the greatest stores of knowledge are ready for the
most intense activity.” “At such moments life is truly at its strongest and
most active, for its two poles are then operating most actively; and this is
Page 213
plain in the man of the highest intelligence. In these hours one sees more
than in years of passivity” (quoted in Moebius’ Schopenhauer, p. 55). “This
means that in Schopenhauer intellectual creation was linked with erotic
excitement” (ibid., p. 57).
It was facts of such a nature that led Brown-Séquard to his idea of
strengthening cerebral activity by injections of the substance of testes. To
obtain the same effect, he prescribed another means, the value of which was
proved in the case of two individuals aged from forty-five to fifty years, the
observations being continued over several years. “By my advice,” he said,
“when these had to perform any great physical or intellectual work, they got
themselves into a condition of sexual excitement.” “The testes being in this
way thrown into functional activity, there was soon produced the desired
increase in the power of the nerve centres.”198
Although I insist on the existence of a close relation between intellectual
activity and the sexual function, I do not mean to assert that there have not
existed exceptions to the rule.
Now that I have described certain important factors in the genius of Goethe,
I shall pass on to a study of his state of mind in the last period of his life,
the splendour and harmony of which have been so often admired.
III
GOETHE’S OLD AGE
Old age of Goethe—Physical and intellectual vigour of the old man—Optimistic
conception of life—Happiness in life in his last period
Drinkers of wine may take the case of Goethe as an argument against
temperance. Although he was not healthy in his youth, his large
consumption of wine did not prevent him from enjoying an old age full of
force and intellectual work. Eckermann, who was his intimate and constant
companion in the last ten years of his life, was never weary of expressing
his surprise and delight at the physical and moral vigour of the
distinguished old man. He found Goethe on his return to Jena, at the age of
than in years of passivity” (quoted in Moebius’ Schopenhauer, p. 55). “This
means that in Schopenhauer intellectual creation was linked with erotic
excitement” (ibid., p. 57).
It was facts of such a nature that led Brown-Séquard to his idea of
strengthening cerebral activity by injections of the substance of testes. To
obtain the same effect, he prescribed another means, the value of which was
proved in the case of two individuals aged from forty-five to fifty years, the
observations being continued over several years. “By my advice,” he said,
“when these had to perform any great physical or intellectual work, they got
themselves into a condition of sexual excitement.” “The testes being in this
way thrown into functional activity, there was soon produced the desired
increase in the power of the nerve centres.”198
Although I insist on the existence of a close relation between intellectual
activity and the sexual function, I do not mean to assert that there have not
existed exceptions to the rule.
Now that I have described certain important factors in the genius of Goethe,
I shall pass on to a study of his state of mind in the last period of his life,
the splendour and harmony of which have been so often admired.
III
GOETHE’S OLD AGE
Old age of Goethe—Physical and intellectual vigour of the old man—Optimistic
conception of life—Happiness in life in his last period
Drinkers of wine may take the case of Goethe as an argument against
temperance. Although he was not healthy in his youth, his large
consumption of wine did not prevent him from enjoying an old age full of
force and intellectual work. Eckermann, who was his intimate and constant
companion in the last ten years of his life, was never weary of expressing
his surprise and delight at the physical and moral vigour of the
distinguished old man. He found Goethe on his return to Jena, at the age of
Page 214
seventy-four, in a condition “very pleasant to see; he was in good health and
robust, so that he could walk for hours” (Sept. 15, 1823). His eyes were
“brilliant and clear and his whole expression was that of joy, vigour and
youth” (Oct. 29). In walks with Eckermann, Goethe forced the pace and
showed strength which filled his companion with delight (March, 1824).
His voice was full of character and of force (March 30, 1824), and every
word showed his vitality (July 9, 1827).
In a conversation that Eckermann had with Goethe when the latter was
seventy-nine years old “the sound of his voice and the fire in his eyes were
of such strength as would have been normal in the full flush of youth” (Mar.
11, 1828). Such characters were preserved until the end of the life of the
great man, and a few months before his death Eckermann jotted in his book
that he saw him every day in full vigour and freshness, looking as if his
health might be prolonged indefinitely (Dec. 21, 1831). In the beginning of
the following spring, Goethe caught a feverish cold, possibly pneumonic,
and died, probably from weakness of the heart. His illness lasted a week. If
he had not been a drinker of wine he would have been able to withstand this
attack and to live still longer.
The intellectual vigour of Goethe was even greater and more remarkable
than his physical strength. His interests were extremely wide, and his thirst
for knowledge was never appeased. Once, when he was absorbed by the
interest of hearing d’Alton describe in detail the skeleton of rodents,
Eckermann states his surprise that a man not far short of eighty years old
“did not give up seeking for and gaining knowledge.” But in these matters
he never lost his interest. He wished always to go further and further,
always to learn, so showing himself to be a man of eternal and undying
youth (April 16, 1825). Goethe’s aptitude for understanding and his
memory were most unusual. When he was more than eighty, he surprised
those who heard him “by the incessant flow of his ideas and by his
extraordinary fertility in invention” (Oct. 7, 1828).
“The old age of Goethe is the most striking proof of the extreme force of his
constitution,” said his medical biographer, Dr. Moebius. Works which were
written in his last years are for the most part beyond praise, both because of
their finished form, and by their wisdom and feeling. What other man of
eighty has written anything of the same character? From the physiological
robust, so that he could walk for hours” (Sept. 15, 1823). His eyes were
“brilliant and clear and his whole expression was that of joy, vigour and
youth” (Oct. 29). In walks with Eckermann, Goethe forced the pace and
showed strength which filled his companion with delight (March, 1824).
His voice was full of character and of force (March 30, 1824), and every
word showed his vitality (July 9, 1827).
In a conversation that Eckermann had with Goethe when the latter was
seventy-nine years old “the sound of his voice and the fire in his eyes were
of such strength as would have been normal in the full flush of youth” (Mar.
11, 1828). Such characters were preserved until the end of the life of the
great man, and a few months before his death Eckermann jotted in his book
that he saw him every day in full vigour and freshness, looking as if his
health might be prolonged indefinitely (Dec. 21, 1831). In the beginning of
the following spring, Goethe caught a feverish cold, possibly pneumonic,
and died, probably from weakness of the heart. His illness lasted a week. If
he had not been a drinker of wine he would have been able to withstand this
attack and to live still longer.
The intellectual vigour of Goethe was even greater and more remarkable
than his physical strength. His interests were extremely wide, and his thirst
for knowledge was never appeased. Once, when he was absorbed by the
interest of hearing d’Alton describe in detail the skeleton of rodents,
Eckermann states his surprise that a man not far short of eighty years old
“did not give up seeking for and gaining knowledge.” But in these matters
he never lost his interest. He wished always to go further and further,
always to learn, so showing himself to be a man of eternal and undying
youth (April 16, 1825). Goethe’s aptitude for understanding and his
memory were most unusual. When he was more than eighty, he surprised
those who heard him “by the incessant flow of his ideas and by his
extraordinary fertility in invention” (Oct. 7, 1828).
“The old age of Goethe is the most striking proof of the extreme force of his
constitution,” said his medical biographer, Dr. Moebius. Works which were
written in his last years are for the most part beyond praise, both because of
their finished form, and by their wisdom and feeling. What other man of
eighty has written anything of the same character? From the physiological
Page 215
point of view I am more surprised at his works when he was old than at
those of his youthful activity” (Moebius, Goethe, i, 200, 201).
Although Goethe’s character, which was fiery and intense in his youth,
became much more calm with age, there still came to him moments when
he was carried away. He had certain eccentricities of an old man, and in
particular was often very despotic, and this trait has been the occasion of
many stories. His temper, however, became much more certain in his old
age, and his general conceptions much more optimistic. Apart from certain
short crises, he was happy in his life. In 1828, he settled down at Dornburg
and there passed a tranquil existence. “I stay out of doors nearly all day and
engage in private conversations with the tendrils of the vine which
communicate their excellent ideas to me, ideas about which I shall have
marvellous things to tell you”—he wrote to Eckermann on June 15, 1828
—“I am composing verses which are quite good, and I hope that it will be
given to me to live long in this condition. I am quite contented,” he said to
his collaborator, “at the beginning of spring, when I see the first green
leaves, I am pleased to watch how, from week to week, one leaf after
another appears on the stem. I am delighted in May, when I see a flower-
bud; I feel really happy, when in June the rose offers to me its splendour
and its perfume” (Eckermann, April 27, 1825). His delight in life at this
epoch is also revealed in many letters. “I wish to whisper this in your ear,”
he wrote to Zelter on April 29, 1830. “I am delighted to find that even at my
great age, ideas come to me the pursuit and development of which would
require a second life.”
His conception of life had changed enormously since the epoch of Werther.
Goethe himself said: “When one is old, one thinks many things about this
world quite different from when one was young” (Eckermann, Dec., 1829).
The youthful sensitiveness which had brought him so much suffering was
notably dulled. Eckermann was astonished at the way he accepted wounds
to his pride. It happened that his design for the new theatre at Weimar was
abandoned while it was being constructed, and replaced by another not his
own work. Eckermann was much disturbed by this, and went to see Goethe
in a state of apprehension. “I was afraid,” he said, “that so unexpected a
step would profoundly wound Goethe. Well, there was nothing of the sort; I
found him in the best of tempers, quite calm, absolutely above all feelings
in the matter.” When he had reached his eighty-fourth year, Goethe had no
those of his youthful activity” (Moebius, Goethe, i, 200, 201).
Although Goethe’s character, which was fiery and intense in his youth,
became much more calm with age, there still came to him moments when
he was carried away. He had certain eccentricities of an old man, and in
particular was often very despotic, and this trait has been the occasion of
many stories. His temper, however, became much more certain in his old
age, and his general conceptions much more optimistic. Apart from certain
short crises, he was happy in his life. In 1828, he settled down at Dornburg
and there passed a tranquil existence. “I stay out of doors nearly all day and
engage in private conversations with the tendrils of the vine which
communicate their excellent ideas to me, ideas about which I shall have
marvellous things to tell you”—he wrote to Eckermann on June 15, 1828
—“I am composing verses which are quite good, and I hope that it will be
given to me to live long in this condition. I am quite contented,” he said to
his collaborator, “at the beginning of spring, when I see the first green
leaves, I am pleased to watch how, from week to week, one leaf after
another appears on the stem. I am delighted in May, when I see a flower-
bud; I feel really happy, when in June the rose offers to me its splendour
and its perfume” (Eckermann, April 27, 1825). His delight in life at this
epoch is also revealed in many letters. “I wish to whisper this in your ear,”
he wrote to Zelter on April 29, 1830. “I am delighted to find that even at my
great age, ideas come to me the pursuit and development of which would
require a second life.”
His conception of life had changed enormously since the epoch of Werther.
Goethe himself said: “When one is old, one thinks many things about this
world quite different from when one was young” (Eckermann, Dec., 1829).
The youthful sensitiveness which had brought him so much suffering was
notably dulled. Eckermann was astonished at the way he accepted wounds
to his pride. It happened that his design for the new theatre at Weimar was
abandoned while it was being constructed, and replaced by another not his
own work. Eckermann was much disturbed by this, and went to see Goethe
in a state of apprehension. “I was afraid,” he said, “that so unexpected a
step would profoundly wound Goethe. Well, there was nothing of the sort; I
found him in the best of tempers, quite calm, absolutely above all feelings
in the matter.” When he had reached his eighty-fourth year, Goethe had no
Page 216
weariness of life. In his last illness, he showed not the smallest desire to die.
He expected to get better, and thought that the approach of summer would
restore his strength. The desire to live was strong in him. None the less, he
recognised that his cycle of life was finished, and although he had no
weariness of life, he felt a kind of satisfaction that life was over. “When,
like me, a man has lived eighty years,” he said, “he has hardly the right to
live, but ought to be ready every day to die, and to think of putting his
house in order” (Eckermann, May 15, 1831). None the less, he continued
his work, in particular revising the last two chapters of the second part of
Faust. When he had finished them, Goethe was extremely pleased. “I can
consider,” he said, “any days which come to me yet as a real gift, as it is a
matter of no moment if I write anything more or what such work should be”
(Eckermann, June 1, 1831).
Goethe gave Faust one hundred years of life, and it is probable that he
thought of that period as his own span. Although he did not reach it, he
approached it, after having lived a most active life, full of most valuable
lessons for posterity.
IV
GOETHE AND “FAUST”
Faust the biography of Goethe—The three monologues in the first Part—Faust’s
pessimism—The brain-fatigue which finds a remedy in love—The romance with
Marguerite and its unhappy ending
“Goethe was Faust, Faust Goethe,” said the biographer of the great poet
(Bielschowsky, vol. ii, p. 645). Most people admit that in Faust Goethe
gave his autobiography on a more detailed scale than in Werther. Why then
should I follow my analysis of Goethe himself, which was based on exact
facts, with an analysis of Faust? I do so because in addition to the
biographical details in Faust, there are many ideas which illuminate the
poet’s conception of life. Goethe’s life explains Faust, and Faust explains
the soul of its author. And I am convinced that an accurate study of so great
a man is of high importance in the investigation of human nature.
He expected to get better, and thought that the approach of summer would
restore his strength. The desire to live was strong in him. None the less, he
recognised that his cycle of life was finished, and although he had no
weariness of life, he felt a kind of satisfaction that life was over. “When,
like me, a man has lived eighty years,” he said, “he has hardly the right to
live, but ought to be ready every day to die, and to think of putting his
house in order” (Eckermann, May 15, 1831). None the less, he continued
his work, in particular revising the last two chapters of the second part of
Faust. When he had finished them, Goethe was extremely pleased. “I can
consider,” he said, “any days which come to me yet as a real gift, as it is a
matter of no moment if I write anything more or what such work should be”
(Eckermann, June 1, 1831).
Goethe gave Faust one hundred years of life, and it is probable that he
thought of that period as his own span. Although he did not reach it, he
approached it, after having lived a most active life, full of most valuable
lessons for posterity.
IV
GOETHE AND “FAUST”
Faust the biography of Goethe—The three monologues in the first Part—Faust’s
pessimism—The brain-fatigue which finds a remedy in love—The romance with
Marguerite and its unhappy ending
“Goethe was Faust, Faust Goethe,” said the biographer of the great poet
(Bielschowsky, vol. ii, p. 645). Most people admit that in Faust Goethe
gave his autobiography on a more detailed scale than in Werther. Why then
should I follow my analysis of Goethe himself, which was based on exact
facts, with an analysis of Faust? I do so because in addition to the
biographical details in Faust, there are many ideas which illuminate the
poet’s conception of life. Goethe’s life explains Faust, and Faust explains
the soul of its author. And I am convinced that an accurate study of so great
a man is of high importance in the investigation of human nature.
Page 217
The two Parts of Faust correspond with two distinct periods in Goethe’s
life. In the first Part, Faust was pessimistic, in the second optimistic.
Although many of the high problems that occupy humanity are raised and
discussed in Faust, love is the centre on which the drama turns.
In the first Part, conceived and for the most part written during his youth,
the chief theme is the love of a young man for a pretty and attractive girl
towards whom the hero acts in a fashion opposed to conventional morality.
As in most of his principal works, Goethe has made an episode in his own
life the basis of Faust. It is the well-known story of Frederique, the
daughter of a clergyman, for whom the brilliant young author conceived a
violent passion and who returned his affection with a deeper and more
enduring feeling. Goethe was alarmed at the possibility of definitely settling
his future, and deserted the poor victim of love in an unfortunate state. Later
on, he confessed to the Baroness von Stein that he had abandoned
Frederique at a time when his desertion was likely to cause the death of the
poor girl. “I had wounded to the quick,” he wrote (Bielschowsky, vol. i, p.
135), “the best heart in the world, and I had to repent of it long and almost
unendurably.” As an atonement, he made Frederique the heroine of “Goetz”
and of “Clavigo,” but not thinking these worthy of her, he immortalised her
as the Marguerite of Faust.
A learned doctor, skilled in all human knowledge, but who had found no
satisfaction in his studies, found consolation in the beauty and charm of a
young girl with whom he fell passionately in love. It will be interesting to
trace the psychological process which induced him to leave the scene of his
scientific studies for the streets and resorts where he found Marguerite.
Although Faust was represented as an old man, who had had time enough to
absorb all human learning, his image bears the stamp of green youth.
“Discontented with all his knowledge, he wished to know the secret entrails
of the world, to be a witness of the centre of all activity, to unveil the
principle of life.”199 These are the demands of a young man seeking to
resolve the most intricate problems at one stroke. The speech in question
dates from the period of Werther, when Goethe was twenty-five years old,
and for that reason leaves no very serious impression.200 The second
monologue, which ends with the attempt to take poison, is later, and is
absent in the edition of 1790 (Fragment). It was revised when Goethe had
life. In the first Part, Faust was pessimistic, in the second optimistic.
Although many of the high problems that occupy humanity are raised and
discussed in Faust, love is the centre on which the drama turns.
In the first Part, conceived and for the most part written during his youth,
the chief theme is the love of a young man for a pretty and attractive girl
towards whom the hero acts in a fashion opposed to conventional morality.
As in most of his principal works, Goethe has made an episode in his own
life the basis of Faust. It is the well-known story of Frederique, the
daughter of a clergyman, for whom the brilliant young author conceived a
violent passion and who returned his affection with a deeper and more
enduring feeling. Goethe was alarmed at the possibility of definitely settling
his future, and deserted the poor victim of love in an unfortunate state. Later
on, he confessed to the Baroness von Stein that he had abandoned
Frederique at a time when his desertion was likely to cause the death of the
poor girl. “I had wounded to the quick,” he wrote (Bielschowsky, vol. i, p.
135), “the best heart in the world, and I had to repent of it long and almost
unendurably.” As an atonement, he made Frederique the heroine of “Goetz”
and of “Clavigo,” but not thinking these worthy of her, he immortalised her
as the Marguerite of Faust.
A learned doctor, skilled in all human knowledge, but who had found no
satisfaction in his studies, found consolation in the beauty and charm of a
young girl with whom he fell passionately in love. It will be interesting to
trace the psychological process which induced him to leave the scene of his
scientific studies for the streets and resorts where he found Marguerite.
Although Faust was represented as an old man, who had had time enough to
absorb all human learning, his image bears the stamp of green youth.
“Discontented with all his knowledge, he wished to know the secret entrails
of the world, to be a witness of the centre of all activity, to unveil the
principle of life.”199 These are the demands of a young man seeking to
resolve the most intricate problems at one stroke. The speech in question
dates from the period of Werther, when Goethe was twenty-five years old,
and for that reason leaves no very serious impression.200 The second
monologue, which ends with the attempt to take poison, is later, and is
absent in the edition of 1790 (Fragment). It was revised when Goethe had
Page 218
reached his fiftieth year, and displays a riper maturity. Although lacking
exactness, it depicts in an interesting fashion the miseries of life.
Some alien substance more and more is cleaving
To all the mind conceives of grand and fair;
When this world’s Good is won by our achieving,
The Better, then, is named a cheat and snare.
The fine emotions, whence our lives we mould,
Lie in the earthly tumult dumb and cold.
If hopeful Fancy once, in daring flight,
Her longings to the Infinite expanded,
Yet now a narrow space contents her quite,
Since Time’s wild wave so many a fortune stranded.
Care at the bottom of the heart is lurking;
Her secret pangs in silence working,
She, restless, rocks herself, disturbing joy and rest;
In newer masks her face is ever drest,
By turns as house and land, as wife and child, presented,—
As water, fire, as poison, steel;
We dread the blows we never feel,
And what we never lose is yet by us lamented.201
Fear of the evils which lie in wait for us and against which we can make no
provision render life insupportable. Faust’s frame of mind as described in
these lines recalls Schopenhauer, who was always afraid of something; fear,
sometimes of thieves, sometimes of diseases, tormented him. He would
never go to a barber’s to be shaved, and always carried his own drinking
cup with him.
“Is it not better to end such a life, and to kill oneself, even if it mean
annihilation?” asked Faust. He took up the poisoned goblet and put it to his
lips, but, arrested by singing and the sound of bells outside, he refrained,
and life laid hold of him. Not religious faith, however, but memories of
childhood, “the happy sports of youth and the gay festivals of spring” were
the agencies that recalled Faust to the earth. He went out of doors, mingled
with the crowd, tried to amuse himself amongst men, and savoured the
beauty of the new-born spring, but all these could not make him forget the
evil of life. He met his pupil, talked with him, and again displayed his
pessimism.
O happy he, who still renews
The hope, from Error’s deeps to rise for ever!
That which one does not know, one needs to use;
And what one knows, one uses never.202
exactness, it depicts in an interesting fashion the miseries of life.
Some alien substance more and more is cleaving
To all the mind conceives of grand and fair;
When this world’s Good is won by our achieving,
The Better, then, is named a cheat and snare.
The fine emotions, whence our lives we mould,
Lie in the earthly tumult dumb and cold.
If hopeful Fancy once, in daring flight,
Her longings to the Infinite expanded,
Yet now a narrow space contents her quite,
Since Time’s wild wave so many a fortune stranded.
Care at the bottom of the heart is lurking;
Her secret pangs in silence working,
She, restless, rocks herself, disturbing joy and rest;
In newer masks her face is ever drest,
By turns as house and land, as wife and child, presented,—
As water, fire, as poison, steel;
We dread the blows we never feel,
And what we never lose is yet by us lamented.201
Fear of the evils which lie in wait for us and against which we can make no
provision render life insupportable. Faust’s frame of mind as described in
these lines recalls Schopenhauer, who was always afraid of something; fear,
sometimes of thieves, sometimes of diseases, tormented him. He would
never go to a barber’s to be shaved, and always carried his own drinking
cup with him.
“Is it not better to end such a life, and to kill oneself, even if it mean
annihilation?” asked Faust. He took up the poisoned goblet and put it to his
lips, but, arrested by singing and the sound of bells outside, he refrained,
and life laid hold of him. Not religious faith, however, but memories of
childhood, “the happy sports of youth and the gay festivals of spring” were
the agencies that recalled Faust to the earth. He went out of doors, mingled
with the crowd, tried to amuse himself amongst men, and savoured the
beauty of the new-born spring, but all these could not make him forget the
evil of life. He met his pupil, talked with him, and again displayed his
pessimism.
O happy he, who still renews
The hope, from Error’s deeps to rise for ever!
That which one does not know, one needs to use;
And what one knows, one uses never.202
Page 219
Then follows the celebrated monologue of Faust over which so many
commentators have lost their heads and wasted oceans of ink.
Two souls, alas! reside within my breast,
And each withdraws from, and repels, its brother.
One with tenacious organs holds in love
And clinging lust the world in its embraces;
The other strongly sweeps, this dust above,
Into the high ancestral spaces.203
On this passage has been built up a whole theory of “double natures” with
which has been incorporated the dualism of Manicheism, the two natures of
Christ and what not besides.204
There exists in literature no better expression of human disharmony than
this monologue “of the two souls.” It portrays the unbalanced condition so
frequent in youth and is a valuable indication of the real youth of Faust.
On his return to his study, Faust again revealed his pessimism.
But ah! I feel, though will thereto be stronger,
Contentment flows from out my breast no longer.
Why must the stream so soon run dry and fail us,
And burning thirst again assail us?
Therein I’ve borne so much probation!205
It is at this point that Faust addresses the Spirit “that denies” and that is
called “sin” and “evil.” This spirit invokes before his eyes “the fairest
images of dreams,” that is to say, a woman’s body in its beautiful nudity.
Faust declares himself
Too old to play with passion,
Too young to be without desire.206
Pursued by desire
... when night descends, how anxiously
Upon my couch of sleep I lay me.
There, also, comes no rest to me;
But some wild dream is sent to fray me.207
So that
Death is desired, and Life a thing unblest.
O fortunate, for whom, when victory glances,
The bloody laurels on the brow he bindeth!
Whom, after rapid, maddening dances,
In clasping maiden-arms he findeth!208
commentators have lost their heads and wasted oceans of ink.
Two souls, alas! reside within my breast,
And each withdraws from, and repels, its brother.
One with tenacious organs holds in love
And clinging lust the world in its embraces;
The other strongly sweeps, this dust above,
Into the high ancestral spaces.203
On this passage has been built up a whole theory of “double natures” with
which has been incorporated the dualism of Manicheism, the two natures of
Christ and what not besides.204
There exists in literature no better expression of human disharmony than
this monologue “of the two souls.” It portrays the unbalanced condition so
frequent in youth and is a valuable indication of the real youth of Faust.
On his return to his study, Faust again revealed his pessimism.
But ah! I feel, though will thereto be stronger,
Contentment flows from out my breast no longer.
Why must the stream so soon run dry and fail us,
And burning thirst again assail us?
Therein I’ve borne so much probation!205
It is at this point that Faust addresses the Spirit “that denies” and that is
called “sin” and “evil.” This spirit invokes before his eyes “the fairest
images of dreams,” that is to say, a woman’s body in its beautiful nudity.
Faust declares himself
Too old to play with passion,
Too young to be without desire.206
Pursued by desire
... when night descends, how anxiously
Upon my couch of sleep I lay me.
There, also, comes no rest to me;
But some wild dream is sent to fray me.207
So that
Death is desired, and Life a thing unblest.
O fortunate, for whom, when victory glances,
The bloody laurels on the brow he bindeth!
Whom, after rapid, maddening dances,
In clasping maiden-arms he findeth!208
Page 220
Faust thus reached the ecstasy of passion. Soon afterwards in the Witches’
kitchen, he saw in a mirror a “heavenly form” and cried:—
O lend me, Love, the swiftest of thy pinions,
And bear me to her beauteous field.
A woman’s form, in beauty shining!
Can woman, then, so lovely be?
And must I find her body, there reclining;
Of all the heavens, the bright epitome?
Can Earth with such a thing be mated?209
Discontent with life, sense of the insufficiency of human knowledge and the
most gloomy pessimism lead to the passion of love which, eventually, after
many devious paths, throws Faust into the arms of Marguerite. The story is
one of the world’s great romances and everyone knows it. Faust all
unconsciously was following the prescription of Brown-Séquard. Brain-
fatigue had made the continuation of the study which caused it impossible.
The condition is plainly stated in the following lines:—
The thread of Thought at last is broken,
And knowledge brings disgust unspoken.
Let us the sensual deeps explore.210
The brain has refused to work, and blind instinct, in the guise of dreams,
whispers that there is in the organism something that can restore the
intellectual forces. This something, however, is what is called sin, and much
courage is needed to plunge into it. Without this evil, life cannot last. Faust
has to choose between love and death, and chooses love.
The end of the romance of Goethe and Frederique was bad, and that of
Faust and Marguerite was still worse. The poet painted it in the most
sombre colours. Marguerite killed her child, poisoned her mother, became
crazy, and was beheaded. Faust’s cup of misery was filled to the brim; he
blamed his evil genius, he made desperate efforts to save the poor woman,
and cried “O that I had never been born.”
To sum up: in the first Part, Faust is a young, learned man who expects too
much from science and life, and whose genius requires extra-conjugal love
as a stimulant; he is unbalanced and inevitably pessimistic. It is not
surprising that his life goes badly, and that his conduct leaves him much to
repent of. But although, at first, a vague general discontent nearly drives
him to suicide, later on the terrible evil which he had wrought on a poor
kitchen, he saw in a mirror a “heavenly form” and cried:—
O lend me, Love, the swiftest of thy pinions,
And bear me to her beauteous field.
A woman’s form, in beauty shining!
Can woman, then, so lovely be?
And must I find her body, there reclining;
Of all the heavens, the bright epitome?
Can Earth with such a thing be mated?209
Discontent with life, sense of the insufficiency of human knowledge and the
most gloomy pessimism lead to the passion of love which, eventually, after
many devious paths, throws Faust into the arms of Marguerite. The story is
one of the world’s great romances and everyone knows it. Faust all
unconsciously was following the prescription of Brown-Séquard. Brain-
fatigue had made the continuation of the study which caused it impossible.
The condition is plainly stated in the following lines:—
The thread of Thought at last is broken,
And knowledge brings disgust unspoken.
Let us the sensual deeps explore.210
The brain has refused to work, and blind instinct, in the guise of dreams,
whispers that there is in the organism something that can restore the
intellectual forces. This something, however, is what is called sin, and much
courage is needed to plunge into it. Without this evil, life cannot last. Faust
has to choose between love and death, and chooses love.
The end of the romance of Goethe and Frederique was bad, and that of
Faust and Marguerite was still worse. The poet painted it in the most
sombre colours. Marguerite killed her child, poisoned her mother, became
crazy, and was beheaded. Faust’s cup of misery was filled to the brim; he
blamed his evil genius, he made desperate efforts to save the poor woman,
and cried “O that I had never been born.”
To sum up: in the first Part, Faust is a young, learned man who expects too
much from science and life, and whose genius requires extra-conjugal love
as a stimulant; he is unbalanced and inevitably pessimistic. It is not
surprising that his life goes badly, and that his conduct leaves him much to
repent of. But although, at first, a vague general discontent nearly drives
him to suicide, later on the terrible evil which he had wrought on a poor
Page 221
creature he loved passionately did no more than plunge him into misery that
was bitter but far from mortal. His mind had developed far in the direction
of optimism. The crisis through which he passed, serious as it was, ended
by his return to a life of great activity and enterprise.
V
THE OLD AGE OF FAUST
The second Part of Faust is in the main a description of senile love—Amorous passion of
the old man—Humble attitude of the old Faust—Platonic love for Helena—The old Faust’s
conception of life—His optimism—The general idea of the play
The first Part of Faust was acclaimed by the world almost as soon as it
appeared, but the second Part met a very cold reception. Everyone knows
and reads the first Part; the second Part has few readers, and these chiefly
poets and dramatists. No doubt it has more effect on the stage than when it
is read, but this is due to subsidiary features in which it resembles a fine
ballet. There is general agreement that the real meaning of the second Part
is obscure, complex and difficult to interpret. Many literary critics have
racked their brains in the effort to discover the author’s central idea. When
Eckermann, who persuaded Goethe to revise and finish the second Part,
asked what was the meaning of some of the scenes in it, Goethe evaded the
question and played the sphinx. Thus, with regard to the famous “mothers”
Goethe answered, with a mysterious air:—“You have the manuscript; study
it, and see what you can make of it” (January 10, 1830). G. H. Lewes,
although one of Goethe’s most resolute admirers, admitted the impossibility
of grasping the sense of the second Part. The Wanderjahre and the second
Part of Faust were arsenals of symbols, and it pleased the old poet to see
acute critics labouring to interpret them whilst he was silent and refused to
help them. Lewes thought that Goethe, so far from showing the smallest
wish to clear up their difficulties, took a pleasure in giving them new
problems to puzzle over. Lewes himself thought that the second Part was
poor in idea and execution, and admitted that he had failed after repeatedly
trying to get a conception of it that would reveal its beauties. In writing
about it, he contented himself with giving a summary of it. Now this second
was bitter but far from mortal. His mind had developed far in the direction
of optimism. The crisis through which he passed, serious as it was, ended
by his return to a life of great activity and enterprise.
V
THE OLD AGE OF FAUST
The second Part of Faust is in the main a description of senile love—Amorous passion of
the old man—Humble attitude of the old Faust—Platonic love for Helena—The old Faust’s
conception of life—His optimism—The general idea of the play
The first Part of Faust was acclaimed by the world almost as soon as it
appeared, but the second Part met a very cold reception. Everyone knows
and reads the first Part; the second Part has few readers, and these chiefly
poets and dramatists. No doubt it has more effect on the stage than when it
is read, but this is due to subsidiary features in which it resembles a fine
ballet. There is general agreement that the real meaning of the second Part
is obscure, complex and difficult to interpret. Many literary critics have
racked their brains in the effort to discover the author’s central idea. When
Eckermann, who persuaded Goethe to revise and finish the second Part,
asked what was the meaning of some of the scenes in it, Goethe evaded the
question and played the sphinx. Thus, with regard to the famous “mothers”
Goethe answered, with a mysterious air:—“You have the manuscript; study
it, and see what you can make of it” (January 10, 1830). G. H. Lewes,
although one of Goethe’s most resolute admirers, admitted the impossibility
of grasping the sense of the second Part. The Wanderjahre and the second
Part of Faust were arsenals of symbols, and it pleased the old poet to see
acute critics labouring to interpret them whilst he was silent and refused to
help them. Lewes thought that Goethe, so far from showing the smallest
wish to clear up their difficulties, took a pleasure in giving them new
problems to puzzle over. Lewes himself thought that the second Part was
poor in idea and execution, and admitted that he had failed after repeatedly
trying to get a conception of it that would reveal its beauties. In writing
about it, he contented himself with giving a summary of it. Now this second
Page 222
Part, although its general lines had been laid down for long, was actually
written during several years in the last period of the poet’s life. The fact that
it was composed out of the regular sequence of the Acts and Scenes gives
us an important clue. The third Act and then the second Part of the fifth Act
were put on paper first. Next followed the first Act and part of the second;
the classical Walpurgis night was written in 1830, the fourth Act in 1831,
and last of all the beginning of the fifth Act.
As the second Part of Faust is a crowded motley, containing many subjects,
obviously of minor importance, such as the volcanic theory of the earth and
the disquisition on paper-money, the key-note may be found in the portions
which were first composed. Now Act III. contains the story of Helena, and
the second part of Act V. Faust’s activity for the general welfare.
Setting out from the conception that the works of Goethe reflect the acts
and incidents of his own life, I shall try to explain on that basis the meaning
of the most obscure of his writings.
I have already stated that love was the stimulus of Goethe’s activity in
youth and age; it is the scarlet thread running through his history. There was
no difficulty in his using his love for Frederique as material for a play; that
a young man should love a young girl was natural enough. The story of an
old man enamoured of a young beauty was quite another matter. It was said
that one of the reasons that prevented his marriage with Ulrique de
Lewetzow was the fear of ridicule (Lewes, op. cit., ii, p. 345), a fear that
plays a large part in human affairs. It is easy to understand that the old poet
was in a difficulty when he came to write of senile love. Faust’s love for
Helena was not that of a supposed old man who became young by doffing
his beard and changing his cloak, but of a real old man whom no mystery
nor magic was to make young again. And yet old Faust’s love was a true
passion, and Goethe has written no finer lines than those describing it.
When the second Part begins, Faust has passed through the terrible crisis of
the first Part. Wearied and restless, he seeks a new mode of life.
written during several years in the last period of the poet’s life. The fact that
it was composed out of the regular sequence of the Acts and Scenes gives
us an important clue. The third Act and then the second Part of the fifth Act
were put on paper first. Next followed the first Act and part of the second;
the classical Walpurgis night was written in 1830, the fourth Act in 1831,
and last of all the beginning of the fifth Act.
As the second Part of Faust is a crowded motley, containing many subjects,
obviously of minor importance, such as the volcanic theory of the earth and
the disquisition on paper-money, the key-note may be found in the portions
which were first composed. Now Act III. contains the story of Helena, and
the second part of Act V. Faust’s activity for the general welfare.
Setting out from the conception that the works of Goethe reflect the acts
and incidents of his own life, I shall try to explain on that basis the meaning
of the most obscure of his writings.
I have already stated that love was the stimulus of Goethe’s activity in
youth and age; it is the scarlet thread running through his history. There was
no difficulty in his using his love for Frederique as material for a play; that
a young man should love a young girl was natural enough. The story of an
old man enamoured of a young beauty was quite another matter. It was said
that one of the reasons that prevented his marriage with Ulrique de
Lewetzow was the fear of ridicule (Lewes, op. cit., ii, p. 345), a fear that
plays a large part in human affairs. It is easy to understand that the old poet
was in a difficulty when he came to write of senile love. Faust’s love for
Helena was not that of a supposed old man who became young by doffing
his beard and changing his cloak, but of a real old man whom no mystery
nor magic was to make young again. And yet old Faust’s love was a true
passion, and Goethe has written no finer lines than those describing it.
When the second Part begins, Faust has passed through the terrible crisis of
the first Part. Wearied and restless, he seeks a new mode of life.
Page 223
Life’s pulses now with fresher force awaken
To greet the mild ethereal twilight o’er me;
This night, thou, Earth! hast also stood unshaken,
And now thou breathest, new-refreshed before me,
And now beginnest, all thy gladness granting,
A vigorous resolution to restore me,
To seek that higher life for which I’m panting.211
The invoked image of the most beautiful woman in the history of the world
transforms Faust’s desire of love into an overwhelming passion.
Have I still eyes? Deep in my being springs
The fount of Beauty, in a torrent pouring!
A heavenly gain my path of terror brings.
The world was void, and shut to my exploring,—
And, since my priesthood, how hath it been graced!
Enduring ’tis, desirable, firm-based.
And let my breath of being blow to waste,
If I for thee unlearn my sacred duty!
The form, that long erewhile my fancy captured,
That from the magic mirror so enraptured,
Was but a frothy phantom of such beauty!
’Tis Thou, to whom the stir of all my forces,
The essence of my passion’s courses,—
Love, fancy, worship, madness,—here I render.212
In the throes of this passion, Faust is tortured by jealousy when he sees the
lovely woman clinging to and kissing a young man. He desires her at all
costs.
Am I nothing here? To stead me,
Is not this key still shining in my hand?
Through realms of terror, wastes and waves it led me,
Through solitudes, to where I firmly stand,
Here foothold is! Realities here centre!
The strife with spirits here the mind may venture,
And on its grand, its double lordship enter!
How far she was, and nearer, how divine!
I’ll rescue her and make her doubly mine.
Ye Mothers! Mothers! Crown this wild endeavour!
Who knows her once must hold her, and for ever.213
The disappearance of the beautiful woman so moved Faust that he fainted
and fell into a prolonged sleep. As soon as he recovered consciousness he
asked: “Where is she?” and set out to seek for her. When he learned that
Chiron had already carried off Helena on his back Faust cried out:—
To greet the mild ethereal twilight o’er me;
This night, thou, Earth! hast also stood unshaken,
And now thou breathest, new-refreshed before me,
And now beginnest, all thy gladness granting,
A vigorous resolution to restore me,
To seek that higher life for which I’m panting.211
The invoked image of the most beautiful woman in the history of the world
transforms Faust’s desire of love into an overwhelming passion.
Have I still eyes? Deep in my being springs
The fount of Beauty, in a torrent pouring!
A heavenly gain my path of terror brings.
The world was void, and shut to my exploring,—
And, since my priesthood, how hath it been graced!
Enduring ’tis, desirable, firm-based.
And let my breath of being blow to waste,
If I for thee unlearn my sacred duty!
The form, that long erewhile my fancy captured,
That from the magic mirror so enraptured,
Was but a frothy phantom of such beauty!
’Tis Thou, to whom the stir of all my forces,
The essence of my passion’s courses,—
Love, fancy, worship, madness,—here I render.212
In the throes of this passion, Faust is tortured by jealousy when he sees the
lovely woman clinging to and kissing a young man. He desires her at all
costs.
Am I nothing here? To stead me,
Is not this key still shining in my hand?
Through realms of terror, wastes and waves it led me,
Through solitudes, to where I firmly stand,
Here foothold is! Realities here centre!
The strife with spirits here the mind may venture,
And on its grand, its double lordship enter!
How far she was, and nearer, how divine!
I’ll rescue her and make her doubly mine.
Ye Mothers! Mothers! Crown this wild endeavour!
Who knows her once must hold her, and for ever.213
The disappearance of the beautiful woman so moved Faust that he fainted
and fell into a prolonged sleep. As soon as he recovered consciousness he
asked: “Where is she?” and set out to seek for her. When he learned that
Chiron had already carried off Helena on his back Faust cried out:—
Page 224
Her didst thou bear?
Chiron: This back she pressed.
Faust: Was I not wild enough, before;
And now such seat, to make me blest!
O, I scarcely dare
To trust my senses!—tell me more!
She is my only Aspiration!
Whence didst thou bear her—to what shore?214
Thou saw’st her once; to-day I saw her beam,
The dream of Beauty, beautiful as Dream!
My soul, my being, now is bound and chained;
I cannot live, unless she be attained.215
Chiron found this attitude of passionate emotion so strange that he advised
Faust to take care of his health.
After many wanderings and difficulties Faust again met the woman he
coveted and spoke to her as follows:—
What else remains, but that I give to thee
Myself, and all I vainly fancied mine?
Let me, before thy feet, in fealty true,
Thee now acknowledge, Lady, whose approach
Won thee at once possession and the throne!216
This language, so very different from what the same man had formerly
addressed to Marguerite, is much more like that of an old lover to a young
beauty whom he admires. When Helena invited Faust to sit on the throne
beside her, he replied:—
First, kneeling, let the dedication be
Accepted, lofty Lady! Let me kiss
The gracious hand that lifts me to thy side.
Confirm me as co-regent of thy realm,
Whose borders are unknown, and win for thee
Guard, slave and worshipper, and all in one!217
The old man in the throes of a passion so great that he was wholly absorbed
by it did not dare to address the beloved woman except in the most humble
terms.
Helena made no declaration of love, but was complacent to him, and when
Faust suggested: “Now let our throne become a bower unblighted,” Helena
agreed to follow him to a secluded and green bower. There they remained
alone for some time, cared for by an old servant.
Chiron: This back she pressed.
Faust: Was I not wild enough, before;
And now such seat, to make me blest!
O, I scarcely dare
To trust my senses!—tell me more!
She is my only Aspiration!
Whence didst thou bear her—to what shore?214
Thou saw’st her once; to-day I saw her beam,
The dream of Beauty, beautiful as Dream!
My soul, my being, now is bound and chained;
I cannot live, unless she be attained.215
Chiron found this attitude of passionate emotion so strange that he advised
Faust to take care of his health.
After many wanderings and difficulties Faust again met the woman he
coveted and spoke to her as follows:—
What else remains, but that I give to thee
Myself, and all I vainly fancied mine?
Let me, before thy feet, in fealty true,
Thee now acknowledge, Lady, whose approach
Won thee at once possession and the throne!216
This language, so very different from what the same man had formerly
addressed to Marguerite, is much more like that of an old lover to a young
beauty whom he admires. When Helena invited Faust to sit on the throne
beside her, he replied:—
First, kneeling, let the dedication be
Accepted, lofty Lady! Let me kiss
The gracious hand that lifts me to thy side.
Confirm me as co-regent of thy realm,
Whose borders are unknown, and win for thee
Guard, slave and worshipper, and all in one!217
The old man in the throes of a passion so great that he was wholly absorbed
by it did not dare to address the beloved woman except in the most humble
terms.
Helena made no declaration of love, but was complacent to him, and when
Faust suggested: “Now let our throne become a bower unblighted,” Helena
agreed to follow him to a secluded and green bower. There they remained
alone for some time, cared for by an old servant.
Page 225
The result of this union was not a child like that to which Marguerite gave
birth and afterwards killed. It was a strange and peculiar being; a boy who
immediately after his birth began to leap about and to alarm his parents by
the activity of his movements.
Although Goethe preserved an obstinate silence when he was asked to
explain many of the scenes in the second Part, he had no hesitation in
explaining the significance of this astonishing child. “The child was not a
human being but an allegory, in which was personified poetry, which is not
bound to any time, to any place, or to any person” (Eckermann, December
20, 1829). Struck by the tragic fate of Byron, Goethe made the son of Faust
and Helena a symbol of the English poet.
Literary critics, setting out from the categorical explanation of Goethe
himself, have declared that the union of Faust and Helena was meant to
denote the alliance of romanticism and classicism, a marriage from which
was born modern poetry, personified in its highest representative, Byron.
This, however, cannot be the idea of Goethe, who himself was far from an
enthusiast about classicism and romanticism. “What,” he said, “is all this
noise about the classic and the romantic? The essential thing is that a piece
of work should be wholly good and serious; then it will also be classic”
(Eckermann, October 17, 1828). It is much more probable that Goethe
intended poetry to spring from the relations between the old Faust and his
adorable companion, relations of a kind to be included in so-called platonic
love. Such love inspires the creation of perfect work even in an old poet,
when he is stimulated by a beautiful woman.
When Faust and Helena emerged from the grotto with their son, Helena
said:—
Helena: Love, in human wise to bless us,
In a noble pair must be;
But divinely to possess us,
It must form a precious Three.
Faust: All we seek has therefore found us;
I am thine and thou art mine!
So we stand as love hath bound us;
Other fortune we resign.218
After the death of her son, Helena abandoned Faust, leaving him her
garments:—
birth and afterwards killed. It was a strange and peculiar being; a boy who
immediately after his birth began to leap about and to alarm his parents by
the activity of his movements.
Although Goethe preserved an obstinate silence when he was asked to
explain many of the scenes in the second Part, he had no hesitation in
explaining the significance of this astonishing child. “The child was not a
human being but an allegory, in which was personified poetry, which is not
bound to any time, to any place, or to any person” (Eckermann, December
20, 1829). Struck by the tragic fate of Byron, Goethe made the son of Faust
and Helena a symbol of the English poet.
Literary critics, setting out from the categorical explanation of Goethe
himself, have declared that the union of Faust and Helena was meant to
denote the alliance of romanticism and classicism, a marriage from which
was born modern poetry, personified in its highest representative, Byron.
This, however, cannot be the idea of Goethe, who himself was far from an
enthusiast about classicism and romanticism. “What,” he said, “is all this
noise about the classic and the romantic? The essential thing is that a piece
of work should be wholly good and serious; then it will also be classic”
(Eckermann, October 17, 1828). It is much more probable that Goethe
intended poetry to spring from the relations between the old Faust and his
adorable companion, relations of a kind to be included in so-called platonic
love. Such love inspires the creation of perfect work even in an old poet,
when he is stimulated by a beautiful woman.
When Faust and Helena emerged from the grotto with their son, Helena
said:—
Helena: Love, in human wise to bless us,
In a noble pair must be;
But divinely to possess us,
It must form a precious Three.
Faust: All we seek has therefore found us;
I am thine and thou art mine!
So we stand as love hath bound us;
Other fortune we resign.218
After the death of her son, Helena abandoned Faust, leaving him her
garments:—
Page 226
Helena: Also in me, alas! an old word proves its truth,
That Bliss and Beauty ne’er enduringly unite.
Torn is the link of Life, no less than that of Love;
So, both lamenting, painfully I say: Farewell!
And cast myself again,—once only,—in thine arms.219
After this crisis the old Faust sought to console himself in the bosom of
nature, just as after the terrible catastrophe with Marguerite the
contemplation of nature had given him the strength to live. On this occasion
he reached the summit of a high mountain from which he watched the
changing vapours of a cloud which seemed to him to assume the form of
female beauty. But Faust was old, and now saw only memories of love. He
cried out:—
Yes! mine eyes not err!—
On sun-illumined pillows beauteously reclined,
Colossal, truly, but a godlike woman-form,
I see! The like of Juno, Leda, Helena,
Majestically lovely, floats before my sight!
Ah! now ’tis broken! Towering broad and formlessly,
It rests along the east like distant icy hills,
And shapes the grand significance of fleeting days.
Yet still there clings a light and delicate band of mist
Around my breast and brow, caressing, cheering me.
Now light, delaying, it soars and higher soars,
And folds together.—Cheats me an ecstatic form,
As early-youthful, long-foregone and highest bliss?
The first glad treasures of my deepest heart break forth;
Aurora’s love, so light of pinion, is its type,
The swiftly-felt, the first, scarce-comprehended glance,
Outshining every treasure, when retained and held.
Like Spiritual Beauty mounts the gracious Form,
Dissolving not, but lifts itself through ether far,
And from my inner being bears the best away.220
This state of mind resembles Goethe’s condition after the rupture with
Ulrique.
Love and poetry alike were over for him. None the less his craving for the
higher life was not yet weakened. The desire to live was still very strong in
the old Faust. But now he no longer as in the days of his youth dreamed of
an ideal which could not be attained. When Mephistopheles asked him
ironically:—
That Bliss and Beauty ne’er enduringly unite.
Torn is the link of Life, no less than that of Love;
So, both lamenting, painfully I say: Farewell!
And cast myself again,—once only,—in thine arms.219
After this crisis the old Faust sought to console himself in the bosom of
nature, just as after the terrible catastrophe with Marguerite the
contemplation of nature had given him the strength to live. On this occasion
he reached the summit of a high mountain from which he watched the
changing vapours of a cloud which seemed to him to assume the form of
female beauty. But Faust was old, and now saw only memories of love. He
cried out:—
Yes! mine eyes not err!—
On sun-illumined pillows beauteously reclined,
Colossal, truly, but a godlike woman-form,
I see! The like of Juno, Leda, Helena,
Majestically lovely, floats before my sight!
Ah! now ’tis broken! Towering broad and formlessly,
It rests along the east like distant icy hills,
And shapes the grand significance of fleeting days.
Yet still there clings a light and delicate band of mist
Around my breast and brow, caressing, cheering me.
Now light, delaying, it soars and higher soars,
And folds together.—Cheats me an ecstatic form,
As early-youthful, long-foregone and highest bliss?
The first glad treasures of my deepest heart break forth;
Aurora’s love, so light of pinion, is its type,
The swiftly-felt, the first, scarce-comprehended glance,
Outshining every treasure, when retained and held.
Like Spiritual Beauty mounts the gracious Form,
Dissolving not, but lifts itself through ether far,
And from my inner being bears the best away.220
This state of mind resembles Goethe’s condition after the rupture with
Ulrique.
Love and poetry alike were over for him. None the less his craving for the
higher life was not yet weakened. The desire to live was still very strong in
the old Faust. But now he no longer as in the days of his youth dreamed of
an ideal which could not be attained. When Mephistopheles asked him
ironically:—
Page 227
Then might one guess whereunto thou hast striven?
Boldly-sublime it was, I’m sure.
Since nearer to the moon thy flight was driven,
Would now thy mania that realm secure?
Faust: Not so! This sphere of earthly soil
Still gives us room for lofty doing.
Astounding plans e’en now are brewing:
I feel new strength for bolder toil.221
Such optimistic language, extraordinarily different from Faust’s
lamentations in the first Part, becomes still more marked. When he was
approaching his centenary he made the following profession of faith:—
I only through the world have flown:
Each appetite I seized as by the hair;
What not sufficed me, forth I let it fare,
And what escaped me, I let go.
I’ve only craved, accomplished my delight,
Then wished a second time, and thus with might
Stormed through my life: at first ’twas grand, completely,
But now it moves most wisely and discreetly.
The sphere of Earth is known enough to me;
The view beyond is barred immutably:
A fool, who there his blinking eyes directeth,
And o’er his clouds of peers a place expecteth!
Firm let him stand, and look around him well!
This World means something to the Capable.
Why needs he through Eternity to wend?
He here acquires what he can apprehend.222
When he had reached the maturity of his wisdom, Faust organised drainage
works, the object of which was to increase the area of land that could be
utilised:—
Boldly-sublime it was, I’m sure.
Since nearer to the moon thy flight was driven,
Would now thy mania that realm secure?
Faust: Not so! This sphere of earthly soil
Still gives us room for lofty doing.
Astounding plans e’en now are brewing:
I feel new strength for bolder toil.221
Such optimistic language, extraordinarily different from Faust’s
lamentations in the first Part, becomes still more marked. When he was
approaching his centenary he made the following profession of faith:—
I only through the world have flown:
Each appetite I seized as by the hair;
What not sufficed me, forth I let it fare,
And what escaped me, I let go.
I’ve only craved, accomplished my delight,
Then wished a second time, and thus with might
Stormed through my life: at first ’twas grand, completely,
But now it moves most wisely and discreetly.
The sphere of Earth is known enough to me;
The view beyond is barred immutably:
A fool, who there his blinking eyes directeth,
And o’er his clouds of peers a place expecteth!
Firm let him stand, and look around him well!
This World means something to the Capable.
Why needs he through Eternity to wend?
He here acquires what he can apprehend.222
When he had reached the maturity of his wisdom, Faust organised drainage
works, the object of which was to increase the area of land that could be
utilised:—
Page 228
To many millions let me furnish soil,
Though not secure, yet free to active toil;
Green, fertile fields.
A land like Paradise here, round about.
Yes! to this thought I hold with firm persistence;
The last result of wisdom stamps it true:
He only earns his freedom and existence,
Who daily conquers them anew.
Thus here, by dangers girt, shall glide away
Of childhood, manhood, age, the vigorous day:
And such a throng I fain would see,
Stand on free soil among a people free!
Then dared I hail the Moment fleeing:
“Ah, still delay—thou art so fair!”
The traces cannot, of mine earthly being,
In æons perish,—they are there!—
In proud fore-feeling of such lofty bliss,
I now enjoy the highest Moment,—this!223
These were the last words of the wise centenarian. It has been said that they
contain the quintessence of Goethe’s moral philosophy, and that they preach
the sacrifice of the individual for the benefit of society. Lewes, for instance,
takes this view, holding that Faust was the exposition of a man who had
conquered the vanity of individual aspirations and joys, and had come to the
knowledge of the great truth that man must live for man, and can find
lasting happiness only in work for the benefit of humanity. For my own
part, it seems to me that according to Goethe’s Faust man must dedicate a
large part of his life to the complete development of his own individuality,
and that it is only in the second half of his life, when he has grown wise by
experience and feels satisfied as an individual, that he should use his
activity for the good of mankind. It was no part either of the ideas of
Goethe or of the nature of his work to preach the sacrifice of individuality.
Goethe was thus absorbed in Faust by the problem of the conflict between
certain actions and guiding principles. The misdeeds of the hero in the first
Part of his life had to be redeemed. He said to Eckermann that “the key to
the salvation of Faust was to be found in the Angels’ Chorus”:—
The noble spirit now is free,
And saved from evil scheming:
Whoe’er aspires unweariedly
Is not beyond redeeming.224
However, that of which he did not speak, and which none the less was most
important in Faust and in Goethe himself, is the action of love as a
Though not secure, yet free to active toil;
Green, fertile fields.
A land like Paradise here, round about.
Yes! to this thought I hold with firm persistence;
The last result of wisdom stamps it true:
He only earns his freedom and existence,
Who daily conquers them anew.
Thus here, by dangers girt, shall glide away
Of childhood, manhood, age, the vigorous day:
And such a throng I fain would see,
Stand on free soil among a people free!
Then dared I hail the Moment fleeing:
“Ah, still delay—thou art so fair!”
The traces cannot, of mine earthly being,
In æons perish,—they are there!—
In proud fore-feeling of such lofty bliss,
I now enjoy the highest Moment,—this!223
These were the last words of the wise centenarian. It has been said that they
contain the quintessence of Goethe’s moral philosophy, and that they preach
the sacrifice of the individual for the benefit of society. Lewes, for instance,
takes this view, holding that Faust was the exposition of a man who had
conquered the vanity of individual aspirations and joys, and had come to the
knowledge of the great truth that man must live for man, and can find
lasting happiness only in work for the benefit of humanity. For my own
part, it seems to me that according to Goethe’s Faust man must dedicate a
large part of his life to the complete development of his own individuality,
and that it is only in the second half of his life, when he has grown wise by
experience and feels satisfied as an individual, that he should use his
activity for the good of mankind. It was no part either of the ideas of
Goethe or of the nature of his work to preach the sacrifice of individuality.
Goethe was thus absorbed in Faust by the problem of the conflict between
certain actions and guiding principles. The misdeeds of the hero in the first
Part of his life had to be redeemed. He said to Eckermann that “the key to
the salvation of Faust was to be found in the Angels’ Chorus”:—
The noble spirit now is free,
And saved from evil scheming:
Whoe’er aspires unweariedly
Is not beyond redeeming.224
However, that of which he did not speak, and which none the less was most
important in Faust and in Goethe himself, is the action of love as a
Page 229
stimulant to artistic creation, and it was probably to this that he referred at
the end of his tragedy. The mystical chorus sent up prayers in a religious
and erotic ecstasy, and their mysterious song is:—
The Indescribable,
Here it is done;
The Woman-Soul leadeth us
Upward and on!225
Although these verses have been interpreted as love which sacrifices or
even love which leads to the grace of God (Bode, p. 149), it is much more
probable that it is love for feminine beauty, a love which makes possible the
execution of wonderful things. Such an interpretation agrees with the fact
that the verses are spoken by a mystic choir which speaks of the
indescribable (das Unbeschreibliche) in which we must see the amorous
passion of the old man. In such an interpretation the whole of Faust (and
especially the second Part) is an eloquent pleading for the importance of
love in the higher activity of man, in accordance with the law of human
nature, which is a much better justification of Goethe’s conduct than all the
arguments of his interpreters and admirers.
I do not agree with the common idea that the two Parts of Faust are two
distinct works, but regard them as complementary. In the first Part we see
the young pessimist, full of ardour and of desires, ready to make an end of
his days and stopping at nothing to satisfy his thirst for love. In the second
Part we have a mature old man still loving women, but in a different way, a
man who is wise and optimistic, and who, having satiated the wants of his
individual life, dedicates the rest of his days to mankind, and who, having
reached a century, dies extremely happy, in fact almost exhibiting the
instinct of natural death.
the end of his tragedy. The mystical chorus sent up prayers in a religious
and erotic ecstasy, and their mysterious song is:—
The Indescribable,
Here it is done;
The Woman-Soul leadeth us
Upward and on!225
Although these verses have been interpreted as love which sacrifices or
even love which leads to the grace of God (Bode, p. 149), it is much more
probable that it is love for feminine beauty, a love which makes possible the
execution of wonderful things. Such an interpretation agrees with the fact
that the verses are spoken by a mystic choir which speaks of the
indescribable (das Unbeschreibliche) in which we must see the amorous
passion of the old man. In such an interpretation the whole of Faust (and
especially the second Part) is an eloquent pleading for the importance of
love in the higher activity of man, in accordance with the law of human
nature, which is a much better justification of Goethe’s conduct than all the
arguments of his interpreters and admirers.
I do not agree with the common idea that the two Parts of Faust are two
distinct works, but regard them as complementary. In the first Part we see
the young pessimist, full of ardour and of desires, ready to make an end of
his days and stopping at nothing to satisfy his thirst for love. In the second
Part we have a mature old man still loving women, but in a different way, a
man who is wise and optimistic, and who, having satiated the wants of his
individual life, dedicates the rest of his days to mankind, and who, having
reached a century, dies extremely happy, in fact almost exhibiting the
instinct of natural death.
Page 230
PART IX
SCIENCE AND MORALITY
I
UTILITARIAN AND INTUITIVE MORALITY
Difficulty of the problem of morality—Vivisection and anti-vivisection—Enquiry into the
possibility of rational morality—Utilitarian and intuitive theories of morality—
Insufficiency of these
In the course of this book I have from time to time approached subjects
closely related with the problem of morality. For instance, in considering
the prolongation of human life, it was necessary to show that extension of
longevity far beyond the reproductive period of man in no way is opposed
to the principles of the highest morality, although there exist races who find
the sacrifice of old people in harmony with their conception of morality.
Experimental biology, which lies at the root of most of the doctrines
exposed in this work, depends on vivisection of animals. There are,
however, very many persons who regard it as immoral to operate on living
animals when it is not for the direct benefit of these. The attempts which
have been made in France and Germany to prevent or to limit vivisection in
laboratories have not succeeded, but in England there is a severe law
controlling operations on animals and submitting them to oppressive
regulations to which many of the scientific men in the country are opposed.
The question of experiments upon human beings is still more delicate. Just
as formerly the examination of a human corpse could be made only in
secret, so at the present time, if the slightest experiment is to be made upon
a human being, it can be only by devious ways. People who are hardly
shocked at all at the numberless accidents caused by automobiles and other
means of transit, or in field sports, make the strongest protest against any
proposal to try some new method of treatment upon a human being.
A large number of people, amongst them even men of science, regard as
immoral any attempt to prevent the spread of venereal diseases. Recently, in
SCIENCE AND MORALITY
I
UTILITARIAN AND INTUITIVE MORALITY
Difficulty of the problem of morality—Vivisection and anti-vivisection—Enquiry into the
possibility of rational morality—Utilitarian and intuitive theories of morality—
Insufficiency of these
In the course of this book I have from time to time approached subjects
closely related with the problem of morality. For instance, in considering
the prolongation of human life, it was necessary to show that extension of
longevity far beyond the reproductive period of man in no way is opposed
to the principles of the highest morality, although there exist races who find
the sacrifice of old people in harmony with their conception of morality.
Experimental biology, which lies at the root of most of the doctrines
exposed in this work, depends on vivisection of animals. There are,
however, very many persons who regard it as immoral to operate on living
animals when it is not for the direct benefit of these. The attempts which
have been made in France and Germany to prevent or to limit vivisection in
laboratories have not succeeded, but in England there is a severe law
controlling operations on animals and submitting them to oppressive
regulations to which many of the scientific men in the country are opposed.
The question of experiments upon human beings is still more delicate. Just
as formerly the examination of a human corpse could be made only in
secret, so at the present time, if the slightest experiment is to be made upon
a human being, it can be only by devious ways. People who are hardly
shocked at all at the numberless accidents caused by automobiles and other
means of transit, or in field sports, make the strongest protest against any
proposal to try some new method of treatment upon a human being.
A large number of people, amongst them even men of science, regard as
immoral any attempt to prevent the spread of venereal diseases. Recently, in
Page 231
connection with the investigations into the action of mercurial ointment as a
means of preventing syphilis, the members of the Faculty of Medicine in
France made a public protest, declaring that it would be “immoral to let
people think that they could indulge in sexual vice without danger,” and that
it was “wrong to give to the public a means of protection in debauch.”226
None the less, other men of science, equally serious, were convinced that
they were performing an absolutely moral work in attempting to find a
prophylactic against syphilis which would preserve many people, including
children and other innocent persons who, if no preventive measures existed,
would suffer from the terrible disease.
Such examples show the reader what confusion exists in the problem of
morality. Although at every moment, in every act of human conduct, the
precepts of morality must be reckoned with, even the most authoritative
persons are far from agreeing as to what rules to follow. About a year ago in
a Parisian journal227 an enquiry into the subject of rational morality was
directed to distinguished authors. The object was to discover if, at the
present time, moral conduct could be based not on religious dogma, which
binds only those who believe in it, but on rational principles. The answers
were most contradictory. Some denied the possibility of rational morality,
others admitted it, but in very different fashions. Whilst one philosopher, M.
Boutroux, held that “morality must be founded on reason and could have no
other foundation,” a poet, M. Sully-Prudhomme, turned to feeling and
conscience as the basis of morality. According to him, “in the teaching of
morality, it is the heart and not the mind which is at once master and pupil.”
In the contradictions which I mentioned in the beginning of this chapter,
these two views appear. When antivivisectionists are protesting against
experiments on animals, they are inspired by sympathy for poor creatures
which cannot defend themselves. Guided by conscience, they think immoral
any suffering inflicted upon a living being for the benefit of another being,
whether human or animal. I know distinguished physiologists who have
determined to limit their experiments to animals with little sensibility, such
as frogs. The great majority of scientific men, however, would have no
scruple in opening bodies and subjecting their victims to severe suffering in
the hope of clearing up some scientific problem which sooner or later
would increase the happiness of human beings and animals. If vivisection
had not been performed, or if it had been restricted, the great laws of
means of preventing syphilis, the members of the Faculty of Medicine in
France made a public protest, declaring that it would be “immoral to let
people think that they could indulge in sexual vice without danger,” and that
it was “wrong to give to the public a means of protection in debauch.”226
None the less, other men of science, equally serious, were convinced that
they were performing an absolutely moral work in attempting to find a
prophylactic against syphilis which would preserve many people, including
children and other innocent persons who, if no preventive measures existed,
would suffer from the terrible disease.
Such examples show the reader what confusion exists in the problem of
morality. Although at every moment, in every act of human conduct, the
precepts of morality must be reckoned with, even the most authoritative
persons are far from agreeing as to what rules to follow. About a year ago in
a Parisian journal227 an enquiry into the subject of rational morality was
directed to distinguished authors. The object was to discover if, at the
present time, moral conduct could be based not on religious dogma, which
binds only those who believe in it, but on rational principles. The answers
were most contradictory. Some denied the possibility of rational morality,
others admitted it, but in very different fashions. Whilst one philosopher, M.
Boutroux, held that “morality must be founded on reason and could have no
other foundation,” a poet, M. Sully-Prudhomme, turned to feeling and
conscience as the basis of morality. According to him, “in the teaching of
morality, it is the heart and not the mind which is at once master and pupil.”
In the contradictions which I mentioned in the beginning of this chapter,
these two views appear. When antivivisectionists are protesting against
experiments on animals, they are inspired by sympathy for poor creatures
which cannot defend themselves. Guided by conscience, they think immoral
any suffering inflicted upon a living being for the benefit of another being,
whether human or animal. I know distinguished physiologists who have
determined to limit their experiments to animals with little sensibility, such
as frogs. The great majority of scientific men, however, would have no
scruple in opening bodies and subjecting their victims to severe suffering in
the hope of clearing up some scientific problem which sooner or later
would increase the happiness of human beings and animals. If vivisection
had not been performed, or if it had been restricted, the great laws of
Page 232
infectious diseases would not have been discovered, nor would the
discovery of many valuable remedies have been made. To justify
investigation, men of science set out from the utilitarian theory of morality,
which approves everything that is useful to the human race. The
antivivisectionists, on the other hand, rely on the intuitive theory, according
to which conduct is controlled by the spontaneous activity of our
conscience.
In the case which I have selected the problem is easy to solve. It is plain
that vivisection is inevitable in the experimental investigation of vital
processes, as it is the only means by which serious progress can be made.
None the less, very many people cannot accept this necessity, because of the
intensity of their love for animals.
In the question of the prevention of syphilis, the moral problem is still more
easy to settle. Whilst in the case of vivisection a real suffering may be
inflicted upon animals, in preventive measures against syphilis, the evil is
more or less intricate and very problematic. The certainty of safety from
this disease might render extra-conjugal relations more frequent, but if we
compare the evil which might come from that with the immense benefit
gained in preventing so many innocent persons from becoming diseased, it
is easy to see to which side the scale dips. The indignation of those who
protest against the discovery of preventive measures can never either arrest
the zeal of the investigators or hinder the use of the measures. This example
again shows that reasoning is necessary in the solution of most moral
questions.
However, the problems which arise in actual life are often very much more
complicated than the two cases I have taken as an introduction. It is easy to
prove the high utility of the work of vivisectors and of those who are
seeking means of preventing syphilis, whilst their adversaries have nothing
to invoke but their feelings. The situation is quite different in many
questions which border on morality. The sexual life abounds in extremely
difficult problems, in which it is almost impossible to determine what is
right. Let me recall the vagaries in the life of Goethe, whose great genius
was so often in conflict with the morality of his time. Was he wrong in
giving up Frederique and Lili from the fear that a permanent bond would
damage his poetic productivity? Then there is the moral question of the
marriage of men affected with syphilis, or other diseases which might
discovery of many valuable remedies have been made. To justify
investigation, men of science set out from the utilitarian theory of morality,
which approves everything that is useful to the human race. The
antivivisectionists, on the other hand, rely on the intuitive theory, according
to which conduct is controlled by the spontaneous activity of our
conscience.
In the case which I have selected the problem is easy to solve. It is plain
that vivisection is inevitable in the experimental investigation of vital
processes, as it is the only means by which serious progress can be made.
None the less, very many people cannot accept this necessity, because of the
intensity of their love for animals.
In the question of the prevention of syphilis, the moral problem is still more
easy to settle. Whilst in the case of vivisection a real suffering may be
inflicted upon animals, in preventive measures against syphilis, the evil is
more or less intricate and very problematic. The certainty of safety from
this disease might render extra-conjugal relations more frequent, but if we
compare the evil which might come from that with the immense benefit
gained in preventing so many innocent persons from becoming diseased, it
is easy to see to which side the scale dips. The indignation of those who
protest against the discovery of preventive measures can never either arrest
the zeal of the investigators or hinder the use of the measures. This example
again shows that reasoning is necessary in the solution of most moral
questions.
However, the problems which arise in actual life are often very much more
complicated than the two cases I have taken as an introduction. It is easy to
prove the high utility of the work of vivisectors and of those who are
seeking means of preventing syphilis, whilst their adversaries have nothing
to invoke but their feelings. The situation is quite different in many
questions which border on morality. The sexual life abounds in extremely
difficult problems, in which it is almost impossible to determine what is
right. Let me recall the vagaries in the life of Goethe, whose great genius
was so often in conflict with the morality of his time. Was he wrong in
giving up Frederique and Lili from the fear that a permanent bond would
damage his poetic productivity? Then there is the moral question of the
marriage of men affected with syphilis, or other diseases which might
Page 233
influence the offspring. The problems of the continence of young people
before marriage, of prostitution and of means of preventing conception are
without doubt questions of great importance, the solution of which is
extremely difficult from the point of view of morality. Differences of
opinion are revealed in nearly everything relating to punishment. The
question of the death penalty is much in dispute and requires numerous
investigations of different kinds. Statistics have been collected to give
information as to the utility or inutility of the death penalty. According to
some results, capital punishment does not diminish the number of crimes,
whilst according to others it has a real preventive effect. Punishments less
violent than death, and particularly the punishments of children, are equally
troublesome, and schoolmasters have difficulty in finding a solution.
The utilitarian theory of morality often finds it impossible to prove the
advantage of the conduct it prescribes, and this the more because in many
cases we do not exactly know who is to profit by it. Is the utility of any
particular act to be considered so far as it affects relatives, members of the
same religion, of the same country, or of the same race, or all humanity?
In face of these difficulties, many moral philosophers have given up the
utilitarian theory and declared for an intuitive theory. The basis of morality
is to be found in a feeling innate in every man, a sort of social instinct
urging him to do good to his neighbour, and which, by the voice of his own
conscience, dictates how he ought to act much more precisely than could be
done by any comprehension of the utility of his conduct.
It is certainly true that man is an animal living in society because of his
need for association with other human beings. But whilst in the animal
world the members of societies are actuated by an instinct which is blind
and generally very precise, in man we find nothing of the kind. The social
instinct appears in him in endless variety. In some of us love of neighbours
is extremely highly developed, so that some persons are only happy when
sacrificing themselves for the public good. They give all that they have to
the poor, and often die for some ideal which is necessarily altruistic. Such
examples are rare. Many men, however, profess an affection for some of
their kind, devote themselves to their relations, their friends, or their
compatriots, and remain practically indifferent to all others. Other
individuals, again, have an even narrower sphere of affection, and take
advantage of their fellows, either in their own interest or in that of their own
before marriage, of prostitution and of means of preventing conception are
without doubt questions of great importance, the solution of which is
extremely difficult from the point of view of morality. Differences of
opinion are revealed in nearly everything relating to punishment. The
question of the death penalty is much in dispute and requires numerous
investigations of different kinds. Statistics have been collected to give
information as to the utility or inutility of the death penalty. According to
some results, capital punishment does not diminish the number of crimes,
whilst according to others it has a real preventive effect. Punishments less
violent than death, and particularly the punishments of children, are equally
troublesome, and schoolmasters have difficulty in finding a solution.
The utilitarian theory of morality often finds it impossible to prove the
advantage of the conduct it prescribes, and this the more because in many
cases we do not exactly know who is to profit by it. Is the utility of any
particular act to be considered so far as it affects relatives, members of the
same religion, of the same country, or of the same race, or all humanity?
In face of these difficulties, many moral philosophers have given up the
utilitarian theory and declared for an intuitive theory. The basis of morality
is to be found in a feeling innate in every man, a sort of social instinct
urging him to do good to his neighbour, and which, by the voice of his own
conscience, dictates how he ought to act much more precisely than could be
done by any comprehension of the utility of his conduct.
It is certainly true that man is an animal living in society because of his
need for association with other human beings. But whilst in the animal
world the members of societies are actuated by an instinct which is blind
and generally very precise, in man we find nothing of the kind. The social
instinct appears in him in endless variety. In some of us love of neighbours
is extremely highly developed, so that some persons are only happy when
sacrificing themselves for the public good. They give all that they have to
the poor, and often die for some ideal which is necessarily altruistic. Such
examples are rare. Many men, however, profess an affection for some of
their kind, devote themselves to their relations, their friends, or their
compatriots, and remain practically indifferent to all others. Other
individuals, again, have an even narrower sphere of affection, and take
advantage of their fellows, either in their own interest or in that of their own
Page 234
family. Still more rare are the really wicked persons who have no love for
anyone but themselves and who take pleasure in doing harm to those about
them. Notwithstanding this diversity in the development of the social
instinct, all men have to live together.
If it were possible to know the inner motives of men, these might be used as
a basis for classifying conduct. Those acts might be described as moral
which were inspired by neighbourly love, and those as immoral the motive
of which was egoism. But it is seldom that the real motives are discovered;
they lie deep down in the individual mind, sometimes unknown even to the
man himself. We can nearly always harmonise our acts with the dictates of
our consciences and find reasons for the harm we inflict upon others. It is
only rare natures that possess a conscience so delicate as to be always
tormented lest they are not doing good to their neighbours.
In the course of life, men are disposed to attribute bad motives to their
opponents. Such an attitude makes criticism easier and panders to the
common wish to speak evil of one’s neighbours. Notwithstanding the
numerous precedents for such an attitude amongst politicians and
journalists, it must be discarded from any serious study of morality.
The motives and the conscience are elusive elements of little use in any
attempt to value human conduct. We have to fall back on the consequences
of action. Now it is easy to show that the social instinct often leads to action
which is not good. It frequently happens that men, acting with the highest
and best intentions, do much harm. Schopenhauer long ago pointed out that
morality based on sentiment is a mere caricature of real morality. Impelled
by the altruistic wish to do good, men often lavish unreflecting charity and
do harm to others and to themselves. In Timon of Athens Shakespeare
depicted
anyone but themselves and who take pleasure in doing harm to those about
them. Notwithstanding this diversity in the development of the social
instinct, all men have to live together.
If it were possible to know the inner motives of men, these might be used as
a basis for classifying conduct. Those acts might be described as moral
which were inspired by neighbourly love, and those as immoral the motive
of which was egoism. But it is seldom that the real motives are discovered;
they lie deep down in the individual mind, sometimes unknown even to the
man himself. We can nearly always harmonise our acts with the dictates of
our consciences and find reasons for the harm we inflict upon others. It is
only rare natures that possess a conscience so delicate as to be always
tormented lest they are not doing good to their neighbours.
In the course of life, men are disposed to attribute bad motives to their
opponents. Such an attitude makes criticism easier and panders to the
common wish to speak evil of one’s neighbours. Notwithstanding the
numerous precedents for such an attitude amongst politicians and
journalists, it must be discarded from any serious study of morality.
The motives and the conscience are elusive elements of little use in any
attempt to value human conduct. We have to fall back on the consequences
of action. Now it is easy to show that the social instinct often leads to action
which is not good. It frequently happens that men, acting with the highest
and best intentions, do much harm. Schopenhauer long ago pointed out that
morality based on sentiment is a mere caricature of real morality. Impelled
by the altruistic wish to do good, men often lavish unreflecting charity and
do harm to others and to themselves. In Timon of Athens Shakespeare
depicted
Page 235
A most incomparable man; breathed, as it were,
To an untirable and continuate goodness,
and who gave away to the right and the left, creating around him a cloud of
parasites. He finally ruined himself and became a hopeless misanthrope.
Shakespeare put his verdict in the mouth of Flavius:—
Undone by goodness. Strange, unusual blood,
When man’s worst sin is, he does too much good.
Morality, founded purely on sentiment, has inspired the attacks on
vivisectors which in all confidence spread evil amongst men.
It is a surprising result of the great complexity of human affairs, that society
is sometimes better served by wicked acts than by acts inspired by the most
generous feelings. Thus extremely rigorous measures of repression are often
more successful than the half-measures employed by humane and charitable
administrators.
The intuitive theory of morality has had no greater success than
utilitarianism. Even if the sentiment of society were a true basis of moral
conduct, it fails in actual practice. On the other hand, although utility is the
object of all morality, it is in most cases so difficult to determine what is
really useful, that utilitarianism breaks down as the foundation of morality.
We must look elsewhere for principles which can guide us towards right
conduct.
II
MORALITY AND HUMAN NATURE
Attempts to found morality on the laws of human nature—Kant’s theory of moral
obligation—Some criticisms of the Kantian theory—Moral conduct must be guided by
reason
Even in antiquity, there were efforts to find a basis for morality other than
the precepts of religion based on revelation, but the failure of such attempts
has long been admitted. In the first chapter of The Nature of Man, I
described such efforts to find a basis for morality in human nature itself.
To an untirable and continuate goodness,
and who gave away to the right and the left, creating around him a cloud of
parasites. He finally ruined himself and became a hopeless misanthrope.
Shakespeare put his verdict in the mouth of Flavius:—
Undone by goodness. Strange, unusual blood,
When man’s worst sin is, he does too much good.
Morality, founded purely on sentiment, has inspired the attacks on
vivisectors which in all confidence spread evil amongst men.
It is a surprising result of the great complexity of human affairs, that society
is sometimes better served by wicked acts than by acts inspired by the most
generous feelings. Thus extremely rigorous measures of repression are often
more successful than the half-measures employed by humane and charitable
administrators.
The intuitive theory of morality has had no greater success than
utilitarianism. Even if the sentiment of society were a true basis of moral
conduct, it fails in actual practice. On the other hand, although utility is the
object of all morality, it is in most cases so difficult to determine what is
really useful, that utilitarianism breaks down as the foundation of morality.
We must look elsewhere for principles which can guide us towards right
conduct.
II
MORALITY AND HUMAN NATURE
Attempts to found morality on the laws of human nature—Kant’s theory of moral
obligation—Some criticisms of the Kantian theory—Moral conduct must be guided by
reason
Even in antiquity, there were efforts to find a basis for morality other than
the precepts of religion based on revelation, but the failure of such attempts
has long been admitted. In the first chapter of The Nature of Man, I
described such efforts to find a basis for morality in human nature itself.
Page 236
The Epicureans and the Stoics, although their doctrines were opposed, each
claimed to set out from human nature. The principle is too vague for
practical use, as human nature can be interpreted in very different fashions.
When several attempts to find a rational basis for morality had failed,
Kant’s theory appeared and was hailed by many as a real advance. None the
less, it has not met with general approval and may be taken as a supreme
instance of the failure to solve the great problem of morality by reason. I do
not wish to deal with it at length, but a review of its main outlines is
pertinent to my argument.
According to Kant, morality cannot be founded on the feeling of sympathy,
nor can it have as its object the happiness of men. Nature would have been
an unskilful workman were her object the happiness of human beings, for
many lower animals have much more happiness. An inner law is the force
compelling us to morality, and without that we should have to seek our
guide in happiness.
Kant’s doctrine is an intuitive theory of morality. It is based neither on
sympathy nor on any inherent charity, which would make us covet
happiness for our fellows, but solely on the consciousness of duty. Kant
thought that the action of a man who wished to do good to his fellows was
devoid of merit. Conduct was moral only in so far as it was obedience to the
inner sense of duty. Schiller’s epigram has thrown into relief this part of the
great philosopher’s theory, “When I take pleasure in doing good to my
neighbour, I am uneasy, as I fear that I have been lacking in virtue.”
In his criticism of Kant’s system, Herbert Spencer drew a picture of a world
inhabited by men who had no sympathy for their fellows and who did good
to them against their natural instincts and only from a pure sense of duty.
Spencer thought that such a world would be uninhabitable. Clearly, moral
conduct, on the Kantian basis, could be followed only by exceptional
persons, for most men follow their inclinations rather than any sense of
duty. People of lower culture would accept kindnesses from others without
caring whether the motive were kindness or a sense of duty, but highly
civilised people would not endure service from those whom they knew to
be acting against their instincts in obedience to a sense of duty. And so men
would be driven to hide the real motives of their conduct, lest they should
offend the sensibility of those towards whom their moral conduct was
claimed to set out from human nature. The principle is too vague for
practical use, as human nature can be interpreted in very different fashions.
When several attempts to find a rational basis for morality had failed,
Kant’s theory appeared and was hailed by many as a real advance. None the
less, it has not met with general approval and may be taken as a supreme
instance of the failure to solve the great problem of morality by reason. I do
not wish to deal with it at length, but a review of its main outlines is
pertinent to my argument.
According to Kant, morality cannot be founded on the feeling of sympathy,
nor can it have as its object the happiness of men. Nature would have been
an unskilful workman were her object the happiness of human beings, for
many lower animals have much more happiness. An inner law is the force
compelling us to morality, and without that we should have to seek our
guide in happiness.
Kant’s doctrine is an intuitive theory of morality. It is based neither on
sympathy nor on any inherent charity, which would make us covet
happiness for our fellows, but solely on the consciousness of duty. Kant
thought that the action of a man who wished to do good to his fellows was
devoid of merit. Conduct was moral only in so far as it was obedience to the
inner sense of duty. Schiller’s epigram has thrown into relief this part of the
great philosopher’s theory, “When I take pleasure in doing good to my
neighbour, I am uneasy, as I fear that I have been lacking in virtue.”
In his criticism of Kant’s system, Herbert Spencer drew a picture of a world
inhabited by men who had no sympathy for their fellows and who did good
to them against their natural instincts and only from a pure sense of duty.
Spencer thought that such a world would be uninhabitable. Clearly, moral
conduct, on the Kantian basis, could be followed only by exceptional
persons, for most men follow their inclinations rather than any sense of
duty. People of lower culture would accept kindnesses from others without
caring whether the motive were kindness or a sense of duty, but highly
civilised people would not endure service from those whom they knew to
be acting against their instincts in obedience to a sense of duty. And so men
would be driven to hide the real motives of their conduct, lest they should
offend the sensibility of those towards whom their moral conduct was
Page 237
directed. Such cases, where the real motive is concealed, show how
impossible it is to judge of conduct from the motives which may be
supposed to have inspired it. As it is generally impossible to know whether
some altruistic conduct has been inspired by kindness or has been
performed as a duty, it is better to give up any attempt to appraise the
springs of moral conduct.
Kant himself realised the need of some other standard for appraising human
conduct. With such a purpose he arrived at his well-known maxim:—“Let
your conduct be such that your motive might serve as a standard of
universal application.” To explain the maxim he gave a number of
examples. A man who is without money and cannot pay a debt is in doubt
as to whether he should promise to repay his creditor. According to Kant, he
ought to ask himself what would be the result if such a promise were to be
made under similar circumstances by everyone. It is plain that if such false
promises became universal, they would cease to be believed and so would
be impracticable in actual life. Kant’s formula, therefore, would supply a
rational basis for the discrimination of immoral conduct. In the case of theft
it would operate as follows: if it became the custom for everyone to take
whatever he wanted, private property and theft would simultaneously cease
to exist. So also suicide is immoral, since if it became general the human
race would cease to exist.
Kant, however, was looking at only one side of the problem. Moral conduct
is frequently limited to an individual, and cannot be generalised for all
humanity. Thus, for instance, if one about to sacrifice his life for the good
of his fellows were to estimate his action according to Kant’s formula, he
would reach a conclusion similar to that in the case of suicide; if everyone
were to sacrifice his life for others, no one would remain alive, and so,
according to Kant, the sacrifice of one’s life for the good of others would be
an immoral act.
It is plain that in his search for a rational basis of morality, Kant found only
a hollow form, void of any substantial body of morality. It is not enough
that a moral man should take his consciousness of duty as a guide. He must
know what would be the result of his acts. If it is immoral to make a false
promise, it is because people would lose confidence in such promises, and
confidence is necessary to our well-being. When the formula of Kant
condemns theft, it is because, if theft became general, there could be no
impossible it is to judge of conduct from the motives which may be
supposed to have inspired it. As it is generally impossible to know whether
some altruistic conduct has been inspired by kindness or has been
performed as a duty, it is better to give up any attempt to appraise the
springs of moral conduct.
Kant himself realised the need of some other standard for appraising human
conduct. With such a purpose he arrived at his well-known maxim:—“Let
your conduct be such that your motive might serve as a standard of
universal application.” To explain the maxim he gave a number of
examples. A man who is without money and cannot pay a debt is in doubt
as to whether he should promise to repay his creditor. According to Kant, he
ought to ask himself what would be the result if such a promise were to be
made under similar circumstances by everyone. It is plain that if such false
promises became universal, they would cease to be believed and so would
be impracticable in actual life. Kant’s formula, therefore, would supply a
rational basis for the discrimination of immoral conduct. In the case of theft
it would operate as follows: if it became the custom for everyone to take
whatever he wanted, private property and theft would simultaneously cease
to exist. So also suicide is immoral, since if it became general the human
race would cease to exist.
Kant, however, was looking at only one side of the problem. Moral conduct
is frequently limited to an individual, and cannot be generalised for all
humanity. Thus, for instance, if one about to sacrifice his life for the good
of his fellows were to estimate his action according to Kant’s formula, he
would reach a conclusion similar to that in the case of suicide; if everyone
were to sacrifice his life for others, no one would remain alive, and so,
according to Kant, the sacrifice of one’s life for the good of others would be
an immoral act.
It is plain that in his search for a rational basis of morality, Kant found only
a hollow form, void of any substantial body of morality. It is not enough
that a moral man should take his consciousness of duty as a guide. He must
know what would be the result of his acts. If it is immoral to make a false
promise, it is because people would lose confidence in such promises, and
confidence is necessary to our well-being. When the formula of Kant
condemns theft, it is because, if theft became general, there could be no
Page 238
private property, and property is regarded as necessary to the well-being of
men. Suicide is immoral, according to Kant, because it would lead to the
disappearance of the human race, and human life is of course a good.
Kant tried to found his theory of morality on a rational basis which
excluded the idea of the general good, but it was impossible for him to
avoid it. His “practical reason,” when it raised the consciousness of duty to
a principle, should have pointed the goal towards which moral acts were to
be directed. In this matter, I find that Kant’s ideas are very vague, although
extremely interesting.
The innate feeling of duty implies the will to pursue moral conduct. This
will is independent of the circum-ambient conditions. Kant in his nebulous
language explains this consideration as follows:—“Our reason informs us
of a law to which all our maxims are subject, as if our will had created its
own natural order of things. This law, then, is in the sphere of a nature
which we do not know empirically but which the freedom of the will makes
possible, a nature which is supra-sensible, but which from the practical
point of view we make objective, because it is created by our will in virtue
of our existence as rational beings. The difference between the laws of a
nature to which the will is subject and a nature subject to the will subsists in
this, that in the first the objects must be the causes which determine the
will, whilst in the second, the will itself causes the objects so that the
causality of the will resides exclusively in pure reason, pure reason being
thus practical reason” (Critique of Practical Reason).
So far as I can follow the argument of Kant, it seems to me to imply that
rational morality cannot be bound by human nature as it exists. I may
perhaps interpret Kant’s thought as if he had the intuition that the moral will
was capable of modifying nature by subjecting it to its own laws.
On the other hand, several critics of Kant have attempted to improve his
theory of morality by reconciling it with human nature as it actually exists.
Vacherot,228 for instance, has taken such an attitude in the most definite
fashion. He insists that Kant “did not appreciate the capital importance of
the object of the moral law. The problem which under the designation
summum bonum absorbed the schools of antiquity plays a minor part in the
Kantian theory. Kant should have recognised that human destiny is not
limited to duty but must include happiness” (p. 316).
men. Suicide is immoral, according to Kant, because it would lead to the
disappearance of the human race, and human life is of course a good.
Kant tried to found his theory of morality on a rational basis which
excluded the idea of the general good, but it was impossible for him to
avoid it. His “practical reason,” when it raised the consciousness of duty to
a principle, should have pointed the goal towards which moral acts were to
be directed. In this matter, I find that Kant’s ideas are very vague, although
extremely interesting.
The innate feeling of duty implies the will to pursue moral conduct. This
will is independent of the circum-ambient conditions. Kant in his nebulous
language explains this consideration as follows:—“Our reason informs us
of a law to which all our maxims are subject, as if our will had created its
own natural order of things. This law, then, is in the sphere of a nature
which we do not know empirically but which the freedom of the will makes
possible, a nature which is supra-sensible, but which from the practical
point of view we make objective, because it is created by our will in virtue
of our existence as rational beings. The difference between the laws of a
nature to which the will is subject and a nature subject to the will subsists in
this, that in the first the objects must be the causes which determine the
will, whilst in the second, the will itself causes the objects so that the
causality of the will resides exclusively in pure reason, pure reason being
thus practical reason” (Critique of Practical Reason).
So far as I can follow the argument of Kant, it seems to me to imply that
rational morality cannot be bound by human nature as it exists. I may
perhaps interpret Kant’s thought as if he had the intuition that the moral will
was capable of modifying nature by subjecting it to its own laws.
On the other hand, several critics of Kant have attempted to improve his
theory of morality by reconciling it with human nature as it actually exists.
Vacherot,228 for instance, has taken such an attitude in the most definite
fashion. He insists that Kant “did not appreciate the capital importance of
the object of the moral law. The problem which under the designation
summum bonum absorbed the schools of antiquity plays a minor part in the
Kantian theory. Kant should have recognised that human destiny is not
limited to duty but must include happiness” (p. 316).
Page 239
But what is this “happiness” which is to be the standard of human actions?
To answer this Vacherot places himself in the position of those ancient
philosophers whom I discussed in The Nature of Man. He makes his point
absolutely clear. “What is the ‘good’ for any being? The attaining of its
purpose. What is the purpose of a being? The simple development of its
nature. Apply this to man and morality. When human nature is known by
observation and analysis, the deduction can be made as to what is the
purpose, and the good, and therefore the law of man. For the conception of
the good necessarily involves the idea of duty and of law to be imposed on
the will. We have to fall back, then, on knowledge of man, but it must be
complete knowledge, a recognition of the faculties, feelings, and
inclinations that are peculiar to him and that distinguish him from animals”
(p. 319). Here is a summary of this doctrine:—“Develop all our natural
powers, subordinating those which are subsidiary to those which form the
peculiar quality of human beings; this is the true economy of the little world
we call human life; this is its purpose and this its law. The formula states in
the most scientific and least doubtful form a very old truth, the foundation
of all morality and the test of all its applications. If we seek to know what
are justice, duty and virtue, we must look in the world itself, and not above
or below it” (Op. 301).
Professor Paulsen, a more recent critic of Kant, comes to a similar
conclusion.229 He thinks that Kant should have modified his formula in
some such way as follows:—“The laws of morality are rules which might
serve for a natural legislation for human life; in other words, rules that,
when they guided conduct according to natural law, would result in the
preservation and supreme development of human life.”
From whatever side we examine the problem of morality, we come to
submit conduct to the laws of human nature. Sutherland, a modern author
who discusses morality by the scientific method, defines morality as
“conduct guided by rational sympathy.” Such sympathy would not
subordinate the chief good of others to an advantage less important but
more immediate. Thus a mother may sympathise with her child when it has
to take some unpleasant medicine; but if her sympathy be rational she will
not let it interfere with the health of the child.
In the foregoing case, sympathy has to be controlled by medical knowledge.
In moral conduct generally, reason must be the determining factor, whatever
To answer this Vacherot places himself in the position of those ancient
philosophers whom I discussed in The Nature of Man. He makes his point
absolutely clear. “What is the ‘good’ for any being? The attaining of its
purpose. What is the purpose of a being? The simple development of its
nature. Apply this to man and morality. When human nature is known by
observation and analysis, the deduction can be made as to what is the
purpose, and the good, and therefore the law of man. For the conception of
the good necessarily involves the idea of duty and of law to be imposed on
the will. We have to fall back, then, on knowledge of man, but it must be
complete knowledge, a recognition of the faculties, feelings, and
inclinations that are peculiar to him and that distinguish him from animals”
(p. 319). Here is a summary of this doctrine:—“Develop all our natural
powers, subordinating those which are subsidiary to those which form the
peculiar quality of human beings; this is the true economy of the little world
we call human life; this is its purpose and this its law. The formula states in
the most scientific and least doubtful form a very old truth, the foundation
of all morality and the test of all its applications. If we seek to know what
are justice, duty and virtue, we must look in the world itself, and not above
or below it” (Op. 301).
Professor Paulsen, a more recent critic of Kant, comes to a similar
conclusion.229 He thinks that Kant should have modified his formula in
some such way as follows:—“The laws of morality are rules which might
serve for a natural legislation for human life; in other words, rules that,
when they guided conduct according to natural law, would result in the
preservation and supreme development of human life.”
From whatever side we examine the problem of morality, we come to
submit conduct to the laws of human nature. Sutherland, a modern author
who discusses morality by the scientific method, defines morality as
“conduct guided by rational sympathy.” Such sympathy would not
subordinate the chief good of others to an advantage less important but
more immediate. Thus a mother may sympathise with her child when it has
to take some unpleasant medicine; but if her sympathy be rational she will
not let it interfere with the health of the child.
In the foregoing case, sympathy has to be controlled by medical knowledge.
In moral conduct generally, reason must be the determining factor, whatever
Page 240
be the inspiring motive of the conduct, whether it come from sympathy or
from the sense of duty. And thus morality in the last resort must be based on
scientific knowledge.
III
INDIVIDUALISM
Individual morality—History of two brothers brought up in same circumstances, but whose
conduct was quite different—Late development of the sense of life—Evolution of
sympathy—The sphere of egoism in moral conduct—Christian morality—Morality of
Herbert Spencer—Danger of exalted altruism
Although moral conduct refers specially to the relations between men,
there exists a morality of the individual. As this latter is simpler, I shall
consider it first in my investigation of rational morality.
When a man, seeking his individual happiness, gives way to his inclinations
without restraint, he often comes to behave in a way that is generally
regarded as immoral. Following his inclination, he may become idle and
drunken. Idleness may depend on some irregularity of the brain, and may
thus be as natural as is the wish to take drink in the case of a man to whom
alcohol brings a feeling of well-being and gaiety. Why is it that idleness and
alcoholism are immoral? Is it because they prevent the living of life in its
completest and widest sense, according to the theory of Herbert Spencer?
But it is precisely in this way that the adherents of the theory justify all
kinds of excess without which fullness and width of life seem to them
impossible.
Whilst vices such as idleness and drunkenness arise directly from qualities
of the human constitution, they must be regarded as immoral because they
prevent the completion of the ideal cycle of human life. I knew two
brothers, almost the same age, subject to the same influences, and brought
up in the same environment. None the less, their tastes and conduct were
very different. The older brother, although very intelligent, during his
college career devoted himself eagerly to bodily exercises and indulged in
every way his inclination for pleasure. “As the chief end of life is
from the sense of duty. And thus morality in the last resort must be based on
scientific knowledge.
III
INDIVIDUALISM
Individual morality—History of two brothers brought up in same circumstances, but whose
conduct was quite different—Late development of the sense of life—Evolution of
sympathy—The sphere of egoism in moral conduct—Christian morality—Morality of
Herbert Spencer—Danger of exalted altruism
Although moral conduct refers specially to the relations between men,
there exists a morality of the individual. As this latter is simpler, I shall
consider it first in my investigation of rational morality.
When a man, seeking his individual happiness, gives way to his inclinations
without restraint, he often comes to behave in a way that is generally
regarded as immoral. Following his inclination, he may become idle and
drunken. Idleness may depend on some irregularity of the brain, and may
thus be as natural as is the wish to take drink in the case of a man to whom
alcohol brings a feeling of well-being and gaiety. Why is it that idleness and
alcoholism are immoral? Is it because they prevent the living of life in its
completest and widest sense, according to the theory of Herbert Spencer?
But it is precisely in this way that the adherents of the theory justify all
kinds of excess without which fullness and width of life seem to them
impossible.
Whilst vices such as idleness and drunkenness arise directly from qualities
of the human constitution, they must be regarded as immoral because they
prevent the completion of the ideal cycle of human life. I knew two
brothers, almost the same age, subject to the same influences, and brought
up in the same environment. None the less, their tastes and conduct were
very different. The older brother, although very intelligent, during his
college career devoted himself eagerly to bodily exercises and indulged in
every way his inclination for pleasure. “As the chief end of life is
Page 241
happiness,” he said, “one must try to get as much of it as possible,” and so
he got into the habit of visiting places where there was most amusement.
Cards, good living, and women furnished for him the means of pleasure. As
his ability was unusual, he passed his examinations almost without having
worked. The example of his younger brother, always a devoted student, did
not attract him. “It is all very well for you,” he said, “as you find your
happiness in work; as for me, I detest books, and I am happy only when I
am giving myself up to pleasure. Everyone must take his own road to the
goal of life.” As a result, the health of the older brother was seriously
affected by his mode of life. He acquired some disease of the circulatory
system, had to face the end, and died at the age of fifty-six. The last years of
his life were very unhappy, as the instinct of life developed in him
extremely strongly. He was a victim of his own ignorance because when he
was young he did not know that the sense of life would develop later on,
and would become much stronger than in his youth. His brother was equally
unaware of this fact, but, absorbed in scientific study, he kept himself apart
from the indulgences of youth and lived a sober life. In this way he found
that his strength and activity were fully preserved at a time of life when his
older brother was already a physical wreck.
I have quoted this example, not to repeat the banal idea that a sober life is
followed by a healthier old age than an intemperate life, but because I wish
to insist on the importance of the development of the instinct of life in the
course of each individual life. I see that this idea is very little known. I was
present at the last moments of my older brother (he was called Ivan Ilyitch,
and he was the subject of the famous story of Tolstoi: The Death of Ivan
Ilyitch). Knowing that he was going to die from pyemia, at the age of forty-
five, my brother preserved his great intelligence in all its clearness. As I sat
by his bedside he told me his reflections in the most objective fashion
possible. The idea of his death was for long very terrible to him, but “as we
all die” he came to “resign himself, saying that after all there was only a
quantitative difference between death at the age of forty-five and later on.”
This reflection, which relieved the moral sufferings of my brother, is none
the less untrue. The sense of life is very different at different ages, and a
man who lives beyond the age of forty-five experiences many sensations
which he did not know before. There is a great evolution of the mind during
the advance of age.
he got into the habit of visiting places where there was most amusement.
Cards, good living, and women furnished for him the means of pleasure. As
his ability was unusual, he passed his examinations almost without having
worked. The example of his younger brother, always a devoted student, did
not attract him. “It is all very well for you,” he said, “as you find your
happiness in work; as for me, I detest books, and I am happy only when I
am giving myself up to pleasure. Everyone must take his own road to the
goal of life.” As a result, the health of the older brother was seriously
affected by his mode of life. He acquired some disease of the circulatory
system, had to face the end, and died at the age of fifty-six. The last years of
his life were very unhappy, as the instinct of life developed in him
extremely strongly. He was a victim of his own ignorance because when he
was young he did not know that the sense of life would develop later on,
and would become much stronger than in his youth. His brother was equally
unaware of this fact, but, absorbed in scientific study, he kept himself apart
from the indulgences of youth and lived a sober life. In this way he found
that his strength and activity were fully preserved at a time of life when his
older brother was already a physical wreck.
I have quoted this example, not to repeat the banal idea that a sober life is
followed by a healthier old age than an intemperate life, but because I wish
to insist on the importance of the development of the instinct of life in the
course of each individual life. I see that this idea is very little known. I was
present at the last moments of my older brother (he was called Ivan Ilyitch,
and he was the subject of the famous story of Tolstoi: The Death of Ivan
Ilyitch). Knowing that he was going to die from pyemia, at the age of forty-
five, my brother preserved his great intelligence in all its clearness. As I sat
by his bedside he told me his reflections in the most objective fashion
possible. The idea of his death was for long very terrible to him, but “as we
all die” he came to “resign himself, saying that after all there was only a
quantitative difference between death at the age of forty-five and later on.”
This reflection, which relieved the moral sufferings of my brother, is none
the less untrue. The sense of life is very different at different ages, and a
man who lives beyond the age of forty-five experiences many sensations
which he did not know before. There is a great evolution of the mind during
the advance of age.
Page 242
Even if we do not accept the existence of an instinct of natural death as the
crown of normal life, we cannot deny that youth is only a preparatory stage
and that the mind does not acquire its final development until later on. This
conception should be the fundamental principle of the science of life and
the guide for education and practical philosophy.
Individual morality consists of conduct permitting the accomplishment of
the normal cycle of life and ending in a feeling of satisfaction as complete
as possible and which can be reached only in advanced age. And so, when
we see a man wasting his health and strength and youth, and thus making
himself incapable of feeling the most complete pleasure in life, we call him
immoral.
A man entirely isolated does not exist in nature. We are born weak and
incapable of satisfying our needs and at once come into relations with the
human being who feeds us and protects us. The child, although egoistic,
becomes attached to his protector, and in this way the feeling of sympathy
is born. Guided by this feeling as well as by the sense of his own interest,
the child soon begins to employ his will in restraining some of his instincts,
which, none the less, are quite natural. Thus, the fear of being deprived of
food makes him obedient to his protectors. The child cannot complete his
normal cycle without pursuing a certain moral conduct.
When he becomes adult, man experiences the instinctive need of relations
with someone of the other sex. This need lays certain duties on him, and
although the love of a young man is less egoistical than that of the child, it
is far from presenting the characters of self-abnegation and sacrifice.
A young woman, after having passed through the usual cycle of life with
her mother and with a man, becomes herself a mother. Maternal instinct
furnishes her with certain rules of conduct, but this natural instinct is not
enough to fulfil its object, that is to say, to rear the child until an age when it
can live independently. Directed by a feeling of sympathy for her child, the
young mother learns from women with more experience to ward off
dangers from her child. In the first years, moral conduct on the part of the
mother consists almost entirely in bringing up the child in a healthy way.
For this purpose she must acquire much knowledge. If she remains
ignorant, her conduct must be regarded as immoral.
crown of normal life, we cannot deny that youth is only a preparatory stage
and that the mind does not acquire its final development until later on. This
conception should be the fundamental principle of the science of life and
the guide for education and practical philosophy.
Individual morality consists of conduct permitting the accomplishment of
the normal cycle of life and ending in a feeling of satisfaction as complete
as possible and which can be reached only in advanced age. And so, when
we see a man wasting his health and strength and youth, and thus making
himself incapable of feeling the most complete pleasure in life, we call him
immoral.
A man entirely isolated does not exist in nature. We are born weak and
incapable of satisfying our needs and at once come into relations with the
human being who feeds us and protects us. The child, although egoistic,
becomes attached to his protector, and in this way the feeling of sympathy
is born. Guided by this feeling as well as by the sense of his own interest,
the child soon begins to employ his will in restraining some of his instincts,
which, none the less, are quite natural. Thus, the fear of being deprived of
food makes him obedient to his protectors. The child cannot complete his
normal cycle without pursuing a certain moral conduct.
When he becomes adult, man experiences the instinctive need of relations
with someone of the other sex. This need lays certain duties on him, and
although the love of a young man is less egoistical than that of the child, it
is far from presenting the characters of self-abnegation and sacrifice.
A young woman, after having passed through the usual cycle of life with
her mother and with a man, becomes herself a mother. Maternal instinct
furnishes her with certain rules of conduct, but this natural instinct is not
enough to fulfil its object, that is to say, to rear the child until an age when it
can live independently. Directed by a feeling of sympathy for her child, the
young mother learns from women with more experience to ward off
dangers from her child. In the first years, moral conduct on the part of the
mother consists almost entirely in bringing up the child in a healthy way.
For this purpose she must acquire much knowledge. If she remains
ignorant, her conduct must be regarded as immoral.
Page 243
So far as concerns the bringing up of a child, the moral problem is quite
simple, because we are all agreed that the object is to rear the child to
maturity in the healthiest possible condition. When the child exhibits any
habits harmful to this object, although due to natural instincts, the mother
applies her knowledge to restrain them without paying attention to the
theory that happiness consists in the fulfilment of everything that is natural.
When a child has passed through the perilous first period of its life, the
mother has to ask what general object she is to follow in its education. She
wishes her child to be as happy as possible. Here the conception of
orthobiosis will serve her, and it will teach her that the greatest happiness
consists in the normal evolution of the sense of life, leading to serene old
age, and finally reaching the fulness of satiety of life. Man, who has passed
his apprenticeship to life from his birth, with his protectors, and, later on,
with persons of the other sex, inevitably acquires certain elements necessary
for social life. Persuaded that in order to succeed in his individual life he
must have help from his fellows, he learns to subdue his anti-social
tendencies, at first in his own interests. Let me take an example of this.
When a man has reached a certain stage of civilisation, it generally becomes
impossible to him to supply his bodily wants without the help of persons
less cultured than himself. He takes into his house one or more servants,
with whom he enters into definite relations. He wishes for himself and those
about him a normal life, such as I have described in The Nature of Man. To
attain this it is indispensable in his own interest and in that of his family,
that his domestic servants should be well treated. The health of the family
very often depends on the conduct of the servants, who will follow
conscientiously the hygienic rules only if they themselves are living in good
conditions. The custom according to which the masters live in luxuriously
furnished rooms, while their servants have mean quarters in the attics, is
immoral from the point of view of the well-being of the masters themselves.
The crowded servants’ quarters are a nest of all sorts of infection, which
may spread in the families of the masters. Very often people who think that
they are following the rules of exact hygiene contract diseases without
knowing that the infection has come from their servants.
Anger gives us another example. It is certainly harmful to the health, and so
should be controlled in the interest of the bad-tempered person himself. Fits
of rage are frequently followed by ruptures of blood-vessels, and by
diabetes, and even cataracts have developed after some violent passion.
simple, because we are all agreed that the object is to rear the child to
maturity in the healthiest possible condition. When the child exhibits any
habits harmful to this object, although due to natural instincts, the mother
applies her knowledge to restrain them without paying attention to the
theory that happiness consists in the fulfilment of everything that is natural.
When a child has passed through the perilous first period of its life, the
mother has to ask what general object she is to follow in its education. She
wishes her child to be as happy as possible. Here the conception of
orthobiosis will serve her, and it will teach her that the greatest happiness
consists in the normal evolution of the sense of life, leading to serene old
age, and finally reaching the fulness of satiety of life. Man, who has passed
his apprenticeship to life from his birth, with his protectors, and, later on,
with persons of the other sex, inevitably acquires certain elements necessary
for social life. Persuaded that in order to succeed in his individual life he
must have help from his fellows, he learns to subdue his anti-social
tendencies, at first in his own interests. Let me take an example of this.
When a man has reached a certain stage of civilisation, it generally becomes
impossible to him to supply his bodily wants without the help of persons
less cultured than himself. He takes into his house one or more servants,
with whom he enters into definite relations. He wishes for himself and those
about him a normal life, such as I have described in The Nature of Man. To
attain this it is indispensable in his own interest and in that of his family,
that his domestic servants should be well treated. The health of the family
very often depends on the conduct of the servants, who will follow
conscientiously the hygienic rules only if they themselves are living in good
conditions. The custom according to which the masters live in luxuriously
furnished rooms, while their servants have mean quarters in the attics, is
immoral from the point of view of the well-being of the masters themselves.
The crowded servants’ quarters are a nest of all sorts of infection, which
may spread in the families of the masters. Very often people who think that
they are following the rules of exact hygiene contract diseases without
knowing that the infection has come from their servants.
Anger gives us another example. It is certainly harmful to the health, and so
should be controlled in the interest of the bad-tempered person himself. Fits
of rage are frequently followed by ruptures of blood-vessels, and by
diabetes, and even cataracts have developed after some violent passion.
Page 244
Luxurious habits are also well known to be harmful to the health. Heavy
meals, evenings passed in the theatre and in society may seriously affect
activity of the organs. Moreover, the luxury of some people is often the
cause of misery to others. The knowledge that luxurious habits shorten life
and prevent man from reaching the greatest happiness may warn people
against luxury better than the appeal to the feeling of sympathy.
As it is a fact that most men guide their lives generally from egoistic
motives, any theory of morality which is to be put into practice must reckon
seriously with this factor. All other systems have recognised it. In the
Sermon on the Mount, which is a summary of Christian morality, each
moral act is recognised on the ground that it will bring some reward or
obviate some punishment. “Rejoice,” said Jesus, “and be exceeding glad;
for great is your reward in heaven” (Matt. v., 12). “Take heed that ye do not
your alms before men, to be seen of them; otherwise ye have no reward of
your Father which is in heaven” (Matt. vi., 1). “That thine alms may be in
secret; and thy Father which seeth in secret himself shall reward thee
openly” (Matt. vi., 4). “Judge not, that ye be not judged” (Matt. vii., 1).
“But if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive
your trespasses” (Matt. vi., 15). Jesus had no high opinion of the influence
of altruism on human conduct.
Herbert Spencer in his treatise on morality (The Data of Ethics) also insists
that laws of conduct, to be of general application, must not require men to
make too great sacrifices, as otherwise the best teaching would remain a
dead letter. He imagines, however, that in the future the human race will be
so much improved that moral conduct will become instinctive, needing no
compulsion. The English philosopher presents a view of the future of the
human race totally at variance with the Kantian conception. Instead of
human beings becoming filled with a sense of duty opposed to their natural
instincts, the world will be peopled with men acting morally from
inclination, so making the world delightful.
The ideal is so far removed from existing conditions that the possibility of
its attainment is hardly worth considering. It is probable that a world whose
inhabitants had the feeling of sympathy very highly developed would not be
so delightful. For sympathy is generally a reaction against evil. When evil
disappears, sympathy would be not merely useless, but annoying and
harmful.
meals, evenings passed in the theatre and in society may seriously affect
activity of the organs. Moreover, the luxury of some people is often the
cause of misery to others. The knowledge that luxurious habits shorten life
and prevent man from reaching the greatest happiness may warn people
against luxury better than the appeal to the feeling of sympathy.
As it is a fact that most men guide their lives generally from egoistic
motives, any theory of morality which is to be put into practice must reckon
seriously with this factor. All other systems have recognised it. In the
Sermon on the Mount, which is a summary of Christian morality, each
moral act is recognised on the ground that it will bring some reward or
obviate some punishment. “Rejoice,” said Jesus, “and be exceeding glad;
for great is your reward in heaven” (Matt. v., 12). “Take heed that ye do not
your alms before men, to be seen of them; otherwise ye have no reward of
your Father which is in heaven” (Matt. vi., 1). “That thine alms may be in
secret; and thy Father which seeth in secret himself shall reward thee
openly” (Matt. vi., 4). “Judge not, that ye be not judged” (Matt. vii., 1).
“But if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive
your trespasses” (Matt. vi., 15). Jesus had no high opinion of the influence
of altruism on human conduct.
Herbert Spencer in his treatise on morality (The Data of Ethics) also insists
that laws of conduct, to be of general application, must not require men to
make too great sacrifices, as otherwise the best teaching would remain a
dead letter. He imagines, however, that in the future the human race will be
so much improved that moral conduct will become instinctive, needing no
compulsion. The English philosopher presents a view of the future of the
human race totally at variance with the Kantian conception. Instead of
human beings becoming filled with a sense of duty opposed to their natural
instincts, the world will be peopled with men acting morally from
inclination, so making the world delightful.
The ideal is so far removed from existing conditions that the possibility of
its attainment is hardly worth considering. It is probable that a world whose
inhabitants had the feeling of sympathy very highly developed would not be
so delightful. For sympathy is generally a reaction against evil. When evil
disappears, sympathy would be not merely useless, but annoying and
harmful.
Page 245
George Eliot in Middlemarch describes a young woman enthusiastically
anxious to do good to her fellows. When she came to live in a village, she
made great plans to succour its poor. Her disillusion and annoyance were
great when she found that the villagers were quite comfortably off, and had
no need of her charity.
John Stuart Mill in his Autobiography relates that when he was young he
dreamed of reforming society and making everyone happy. But when he
asked himself if the accomplishment of his beautiful ideas would make him
happy, he was compelled to answer “No!” and this discovery plunged the
young philosopher into a lamentable condition. He described himself as
quite overcome, all that supported him in life crumbling away. His
happiness could lie only in the constant pursuit of his object, and the charm
seemed broken, because if attainment were not to please him, how could the
means be of any interest to him? It seemed to him that nothing was left to
which he could dedicate his life.
As it is highly probable that with the advance of civilisation the greatest
evils of humanity will become lessened, and may even disappear, the
sacrifices to be made will also become less. Now that there is a serum
which protects against plague, there is no room for the heroism of the
doctors who used to incur the greatest danger in fighting epidemics. Until
lately doctors used to risk their life in treating the throats of diphtheric
patients. A young doctor who was a friend of mine, of high ability and
promise, died from diphtheria contracted under these conditions. He met his
death, in isolation from his friends in case of infecting them, with the
utmost heroism. Now that the anti-diphtheric serum has been discovered,
such heroism would be unnecessary. The advance of science has removed
the occasion of such sacrifices.
It is now very long since there has been opportunity for the heroism which
steeled the hand of Abraham to sacrifice his only son to his religion. Human
sacrifice, based on the highest morality, has become more and more rare,
and will finally disappear. Rational morality, although it may admire such
conduct, has no use for it. So also, it may foresee a time when men will be
so highly developed that instead of being delighted to take advantage of the
sympathy of their fellows, they will refuse it absolutely. Neither the Kantian
idea of virtue, doing good as a pure duty, nor that of Herbert Spencer,
according to which men have an instinctive need to help their fellows, will
anxious to do good to her fellows. When she came to live in a village, she
made great plans to succour its poor. Her disillusion and annoyance were
great when she found that the villagers were quite comfortably off, and had
no need of her charity.
John Stuart Mill in his Autobiography relates that when he was young he
dreamed of reforming society and making everyone happy. But when he
asked himself if the accomplishment of his beautiful ideas would make him
happy, he was compelled to answer “No!” and this discovery plunged the
young philosopher into a lamentable condition. He described himself as
quite overcome, all that supported him in life crumbling away. His
happiness could lie only in the constant pursuit of his object, and the charm
seemed broken, because if attainment were not to please him, how could the
means be of any interest to him? It seemed to him that nothing was left to
which he could dedicate his life.
As it is highly probable that with the advance of civilisation the greatest
evils of humanity will become lessened, and may even disappear, the
sacrifices to be made will also become less. Now that there is a serum
which protects against plague, there is no room for the heroism of the
doctors who used to incur the greatest danger in fighting epidemics. Until
lately doctors used to risk their life in treating the throats of diphtheric
patients. A young doctor who was a friend of mine, of high ability and
promise, died from diphtheria contracted under these conditions. He met his
death, in isolation from his friends in case of infecting them, with the
utmost heroism. Now that the anti-diphtheric serum has been discovered,
such heroism would be unnecessary. The advance of science has removed
the occasion of such sacrifices.
It is now very long since there has been opportunity for the heroism which
steeled the hand of Abraham to sacrifice his only son to his religion. Human
sacrifice, based on the highest morality, has become more and more rare,
and will finally disappear. Rational morality, although it may admire such
conduct, has no use for it. So also, it may foresee a time when men will be
so highly developed that instead of being delighted to take advantage of the
sympathy of their fellows, they will refuse it absolutely. Neither the Kantian
idea of virtue, doing good as a pure duty, nor that of Herbert Spencer,
according to which men have an instinctive need to help their fellows, will
Page 246
be realised in the future. The ideal will rather be that of men who will be
self-sufficient and who will no longer permit others to do them good.
IV
ORTHOBIOSIS
Human nature must be modified according to an ideal—Comparison with the modification
of the constitution of plants and of animals—Schlanstedt rye—Burbank’s plants—The
ideal of orthobiosis—The immorality of ignorance—The place of hygiene in the social life
—The place of altruism in moral conduct—The freedom of the theory of orthobiosis from
metaphysics
As I have shown in The Nature of Man, the human constitution as it exists
to-day, being the result of a long evolution and containing a large animal
element, cannot furnish the basis of rational morality. The conception which
has come down from antiquity to modern times, of a harmonious activity of
all the organs, is no longer appropriate to mankind. Organs which are in
course of atrophy must not be reawakened, and many natural characters
which perhaps were useful in the case of animals must be made to disappear
in men.
Human nature, which, like the constitutions of other organisms, is subject to
evolution, must be modified according to a definite ideal. Just as a gardener
or stock raiser is not content with the existing nature of the plants and
animals with which he is occupied, but modifies them to suit his purposes,
so also the scientific philosopher must not think of existing human nature as
immutable, but must try to modify it for the advantage of mankind.
As bread is the chief article in human food, attempts to improve cereals
have been made for a very long time. Rimpau made one of the greatest
steps in this direction when he introduced into cultivation a variety of rye
known as Schlanstedt rye, now fairly abundant in France and Germany.
Rimpau set himself the task of producing a variety with the longest ears and
containing many and heavy grains. Having conceived his ideal, he began to
seek out what was nearest to it in a very large number of examples of rye.
After patient and continued labour, using careful selection and cross-
self-sufficient and who will no longer permit others to do them good.
IV
ORTHOBIOSIS
Human nature must be modified according to an ideal—Comparison with the modification
of the constitution of plants and of animals—Schlanstedt rye—Burbank’s plants—The
ideal of orthobiosis—The immorality of ignorance—The place of hygiene in the social life
—The place of altruism in moral conduct—The freedom of the theory of orthobiosis from
metaphysics
As I have shown in The Nature of Man, the human constitution as it exists
to-day, being the result of a long evolution and containing a large animal
element, cannot furnish the basis of rational morality. The conception which
has come down from antiquity to modern times, of a harmonious activity of
all the organs, is no longer appropriate to mankind. Organs which are in
course of atrophy must not be reawakened, and many natural characters
which perhaps were useful in the case of animals must be made to disappear
in men.
Human nature, which, like the constitutions of other organisms, is subject to
evolution, must be modified according to a definite ideal. Just as a gardener
or stock raiser is not content with the existing nature of the plants and
animals with which he is occupied, but modifies them to suit his purposes,
so also the scientific philosopher must not think of existing human nature as
immutable, but must try to modify it for the advantage of mankind.
As bread is the chief article in human food, attempts to improve cereals
have been made for a very long time. Rimpau made one of the greatest
steps in this direction when he introduced into cultivation a variety of rye
known as Schlanstedt rye, now fairly abundant in France and Germany.
Rimpau set himself the task of producing a variety with the longest ears and
containing many and heavy grains. Having conceived his ideal, he began to
seek out what was nearest to it in a very large number of examples of rye.
After patient and continued labour, using careful selection and cross-
Page 247
fertilisation, Rimpau succeeded in making the new variety, and so did a
great service to mankind.
Burbank,230 an American horticulturist, has recently gained a wide
reputation because of his improvements of useful plants. He has produced a
new kind of potato which has raised the value of potato crops in the United
States by about £3,500,000 per annum. Burbank cultivated great numbers of
fruit trees, flowers, and all kinds of plants, with the object of increasing
their utility. One of his objects was to produce varieties which could resist
dry conditions, which reproduced rapidly and so forth. He has modified the
nature of plants to such an extent that he has cactus plants and brambles
without thorns. The succulent leaves of the former provide an excellent
food for cattle, whilst the absence of thorns in the latter makes their
pleasant fruit more suitable for gardens. Burbank has enormously improved
the production of stoneless plums, and has very much reduced the price of
many bulbs and lilies by increasing their productivity.
To obtain such results much knowledge and a long period of time were
necessary. To modify the nature of plants it was necessary to understand
them well. To frame the new ideal of the plant it was necessary not only to
have an exact conception of what was wanted, but to find out if the qualities
of the plants in question furnished any hope of realising it.
The methods which have been successful in the case of plants and animals
must be much modified for application to the human race. In the case of
human beings the selection and cross-breeding which were imposed upon
rye and plum trees are not possible, but, at the same time, the ideal of
human nature, towards which mankind ought to press, may be formed. In
our opinion this ideal is orthobiosis, that is to say, the development of the
human life so that it passes through a long period of old age in active and
vigorous health, leading to the final period in which there shall be present a
sense of satiety of life, and a wish for death. I do not think that the ideal
should be that of Herbert Spencer, a simple prolongation of human life.
When the instinct of death comes at a not very late period of life, there
would be no inconvenience in shortening the life, if death did not come
soon after the appearance of the instinct. Probably this would be the only
case where suicide was justified in the conception of orthobiosis.
great service to mankind.
Burbank,230 an American horticulturist, has recently gained a wide
reputation because of his improvements of useful plants. He has produced a
new kind of potato which has raised the value of potato crops in the United
States by about £3,500,000 per annum. Burbank cultivated great numbers of
fruit trees, flowers, and all kinds of plants, with the object of increasing
their utility. One of his objects was to produce varieties which could resist
dry conditions, which reproduced rapidly and so forth. He has modified the
nature of plants to such an extent that he has cactus plants and brambles
without thorns. The succulent leaves of the former provide an excellent
food for cattle, whilst the absence of thorns in the latter makes their
pleasant fruit more suitable for gardens. Burbank has enormously improved
the production of stoneless plums, and has very much reduced the price of
many bulbs and lilies by increasing their productivity.
To obtain such results much knowledge and a long period of time were
necessary. To modify the nature of plants it was necessary to understand
them well. To frame the new ideal of the plant it was necessary not only to
have an exact conception of what was wanted, but to find out if the qualities
of the plants in question furnished any hope of realising it.
The methods which have been successful in the case of plants and animals
must be much modified for application to the human race. In the case of
human beings the selection and cross-breeding which were imposed upon
rye and plum trees are not possible, but, at the same time, the ideal of
human nature, towards which mankind ought to press, may be formed. In
our opinion this ideal is orthobiosis, that is to say, the development of the
human life so that it passes through a long period of old age in active and
vigorous health, leading to the final period in which there shall be present a
sense of satiety of life, and a wish for death. I do not think that the ideal
should be that of Herbert Spencer, a simple prolongation of human life.
When the instinct of death comes at a not very late period of life, there
would be no inconvenience in shortening the life, if death did not come
soon after the appearance of the instinct. Probably this would be the only
case where suicide was justified in the conception of orthobiosis.
Page 248
The foregoing is the case of an action in conformity with the ideal, but quite
contrary to human nature as it is at present. A similar contradiction appears
in reproduction. Man came from animals amongst which unlimited
reproduction was an important factor in the preservation of the species, as it
allowed the species to survive under all sorts of bad conditions, such as
diseases, combats, attacks of enemies, and changes of climate. Although
man, according to the laws of human nature, is capable of reproducing
extremely rapidly, the ideal of his happiness makes a restriction of this
power necessary. Thus orthobiosis, based upon knowledge of human nature,
would set limits to a function which is perhaps the most natural of all. The
restriction which is already partially adopted will come more and more into
operation as the struggle against diseases, the prolongation of human life,
and the suppression of war make progress. It will be one of the chief means
of diminishing the most brutal forms of the struggle for existence, and of
increasing moral conduct amongst mankind.
Just as Rimpau began to study the nature of plants before trying to realise
his ideal, so also varied and profound knowledge is the first requisite for the
ideal of moral conduct. It is necessary not only to know the structure and
function of the human organism, but to have exact ideas on human life as it
is in society. Scientific knowledge is so indispensable for moral conduct
that ignorance must be placed among the most immoral acts. A mother who
rears her child in defiance of good hygiene, from want of knowledge, is
acting immorally towards her offspring, notwithstanding her feeling of
sympathy. And this also is true of a Government which remains in
ignorance of the laws which regulate human life and human society.
It must be well understood that I am not here thinking of written
knowledge, set down in treatises and volumes. Rimpau and Burbank went
outside manuals of botany to obtain their knowledge. Besides books, wide
ideas on the practice of life are required to direct aright the conduct of men.
A doctor who has just finished his studies at the hospital, notwithstanding
all his knowledge, is not yet sufficiently trained to be a good practitioner.
He must acquire the habit of treating patients, and for this years are
required. So also is it with regard to the practical applications of the
principles of morality. The regulation of conduct requires profound
knowledge both theoretical and practical, and men selected to frame or to
apply laws of morality must have this double qualification. If the human
contrary to human nature as it is at present. A similar contradiction appears
in reproduction. Man came from animals amongst which unlimited
reproduction was an important factor in the preservation of the species, as it
allowed the species to survive under all sorts of bad conditions, such as
diseases, combats, attacks of enemies, and changes of climate. Although
man, according to the laws of human nature, is capable of reproducing
extremely rapidly, the ideal of his happiness makes a restriction of this
power necessary. Thus orthobiosis, based upon knowledge of human nature,
would set limits to a function which is perhaps the most natural of all. The
restriction which is already partially adopted will come more and more into
operation as the struggle against diseases, the prolongation of human life,
and the suppression of war make progress. It will be one of the chief means
of diminishing the most brutal forms of the struggle for existence, and of
increasing moral conduct amongst mankind.
Just as Rimpau began to study the nature of plants before trying to realise
his ideal, so also varied and profound knowledge is the first requisite for the
ideal of moral conduct. It is necessary not only to know the structure and
function of the human organism, but to have exact ideas on human life as it
is in society. Scientific knowledge is so indispensable for moral conduct
that ignorance must be placed among the most immoral acts. A mother who
rears her child in defiance of good hygiene, from want of knowledge, is
acting immorally towards her offspring, notwithstanding her feeling of
sympathy. And this also is true of a Government which remains in
ignorance of the laws which regulate human life and human society.
It must be well understood that I am not here thinking of written
knowledge, set down in treatises and volumes. Rimpau and Burbank went
outside manuals of botany to obtain their knowledge. Besides books, wide
ideas on the practice of life are required to direct aright the conduct of men.
A doctor who has just finished his studies at the hospital, notwithstanding
all his knowledge, is not yet sufficiently trained to be a good practitioner.
He must acquire the habit of treating patients, and for this years are
required. So also is it with regard to the practical applications of the
principles of morality. The regulation of conduct requires profound
knowledge both theoretical and practical, and men selected to frame or to
apply laws of morality must have this double qualification. If the human
Page 249
race come to adopt the principles of orthobiosis, a considerable change in
the qualities of men of different ages will follow. Old age will be postponed
so much that men of from sixty to seventy years of age will retain their
vigour, and will not require to ask assistance in the fashion now necessary.
On the other hand, young men of twenty-one years of age will no longer be
thought mature or ready to fulfil functions so difficult as taking a share in
public affairs. The view which I set forth in The Nature of Man regarding
the danger which comes from the present interference of young men in
political affairs has since then been confirmed in the most striking fashion.
It is easily intelligible that in the new conditions such modern idols as
universal suffrage, public opinion, and the referendum, in which the
ignorant masses are called on to decide questions which demand varied and
profound knowledge, will last no longer than the old idols. The progress of
human knowledge will bring about the replacement of such institutions by
others, in which applied morality will be controlled by the really competent
persons. I permit myself to suppose that in these times, scientific training
will be much more general than it is just now, and that it will occupy the
place which it deserves in education and in life.
It is equally clear that if a mother is to act morally with regard to her child,
she must teach herself properly. In place of mythology and literature, she
must learn hygiene and all that relates to the rational rearing of children. So,
also, in the education of men, the study of the exact sciences must occupy
by far the most important place. Then only will moral conduct and scientific
knowledge begin to unite. An ignorant mother will bring up a child very
badly notwithstanding all her good will and her affection. A doctor,
however imbued with strong sympathy for his patients, could do them much
harm if he had not the appropriate knowledge. Are not politicians open to
the reproach from the point of view of morality that very often through
ignorance they do the very worst evil in public administration? With the
progress of knowledge, moral conduct and useful conduct will become
more and more closely identified.
I have been reproached because in my system the health of the body
occupies too large a place. It cannot be otherwise, because health certainly
plays the chief part in existence. Notwithstanding his pessimism,
Schopenhauer was convinced that health was the greatest treasure, a
treasure before which everything else yielded. In many religions care of the
the qualities of men of different ages will follow. Old age will be postponed
so much that men of from sixty to seventy years of age will retain their
vigour, and will not require to ask assistance in the fashion now necessary.
On the other hand, young men of twenty-one years of age will no longer be
thought mature or ready to fulfil functions so difficult as taking a share in
public affairs. The view which I set forth in The Nature of Man regarding
the danger which comes from the present interference of young men in
political affairs has since then been confirmed in the most striking fashion.
It is easily intelligible that in the new conditions such modern idols as
universal suffrage, public opinion, and the referendum, in which the
ignorant masses are called on to decide questions which demand varied and
profound knowledge, will last no longer than the old idols. The progress of
human knowledge will bring about the replacement of such institutions by
others, in which applied morality will be controlled by the really competent
persons. I permit myself to suppose that in these times, scientific training
will be much more general than it is just now, and that it will occupy the
place which it deserves in education and in life.
It is equally clear that if a mother is to act morally with regard to her child,
she must teach herself properly. In place of mythology and literature, she
must learn hygiene and all that relates to the rational rearing of children. So,
also, in the education of men, the study of the exact sciences must occupy
by far the most important place. Then only will moral conduct and scientific
knowledge begin to unite. An ignorant mother will bring up a child very
badly notwithstanding all her good will and her affection. A doctor,
however imbued with strong sympathy for his patients, could do them much
harm if he had not the appropriate knowledge. Are not politicians open to
the reproach from the point of view of morality that very often through
ignorance they do the very worst evil in public administration? With the
progress of knowledge, moral conduct and useful conduct will become
more and more closely identified.
I have been reproached because in my system the health of the body
occupies too large a place. It cannot be otherwise, because health certainly
plays the chief part in existence. Notwithstanding his pessimism,
Schopenhauer was convinced that health was the greatest treasure, a
treasure before which everything else yielded. In many religions care of the
Page 250
health is laid down amongst the chief duties. Although many scientific men
do not hold the opinion that circumcision was ordained for hygienic
reasons, it is certain that hygiene was extremely important in the Jewish
religion. It is only in Christianity, which despises the human body, that
hygiene is excluded from the religious code, as in the words of Jesus:-
“Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor
yet for your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and
the body than raiment?” (Matt. vi., 25). As for long ages hygiene was very
imperfectly known, it is not surprising that it played a small part in human
affairs. Probably the objection to the importance that I assign to it in
orthobiosis is a relic from the old order of things. Now, however, the
situation is different. Bacteriology has placed hygiene on a scientific
foundation, so that the latter is now one of the exact sciences. It has now
become necessary to give it the chief place in applied morality as it is the
branch of knowledge that teaches how men ought to live.
It has been objected that I have left no place for altruism in my system.231
Certainly I have tried to find an egoistic basis for moral conduct, as I have
shown above. I think, however, that the wish to live according to the ideal
of orthobiosis and to make others live a normal life would be a powerful
agency in improving social life, in preventing mutual damage, and
promoting mutual help. Such a motive, within the reach of persons whose
altruistic feelings are not specially strong, must largely extend moral
conduct amongst human beings, and even although in future such
manifestations of high morality as the sacrifice of life and health will
become wholly or nearly wholly useless, I think that for the present there is
still room for altruism. The practical application of scientific knowledge
already gained admits much self-denial and good feeling. Struggle against
prejudices of all kinds and the development and diffusion of sound ideas
require a conduct very highly altruistic.
The fears of my opponents are still less justified when we reflect that the
feelings of sympathy and of cohesion must play a large part in the business
of helping the evolution of man towards the goal of normal life.
Although our actual knowledge already provides a basis of rational
morality, it may be admitted that in the future, if science continues its
forward march, the rules of moral conduct will become still more improved.
do not hold the opinion that circumcision was ordained for hygienic
reasons, it is certain that hygiene was extremely important in the Jewish
religion. It is only in Christianity, which despises the human body, that
hygiene is excluded from the religious code, as in the words of Jesus:-
“Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor
yet for your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and
the body than raiment?” (Matt. vi., 25). As for long ages hygiene was very
imperfectly known, it is not surprising that it played a small part in human
affairs. Probably the objection to the importance that I assign to it in
orthobiosis is a relic from the old order of things. Now, however, the
situation is different. Bacteriology has placed hygiene on a scientific
foundation, so that the latter is now one of the exact sciences. It has now
become necessary to give it the chief place in applied morality as it is the
branch of knowledge that teaches how men ought to live.
It has been objected that I have left no place for altruism in my system.231
Certainly I have tried to find an egoistic basis for moral conduct, as I have
shown above. I think, however, that the wish to live according to the ideal
of orthobiosis and to make others live a normal life would be a powerful
agency in improving social life, in preventing mutual damage, and
promoting mutual help. Such a motive, within the reach of persons whose
altruistic feelings are not specially strong, must largely extend moral
conduct amongst human beings, and even although in future such
manifestations of high morality as the sacrifice of life and health will
become wholly or nearly wholly useless, I think that for the present there is
still room for altruism. The practical application of scientific knowledge
already gained admits much self-denial and good feeling. Struggle against
prejudices of all kinds and the development and diffusion of sound ideas
require a conduct very highly altruistic.
The fears of my opponents are still less justified when we reflect that the
feelings of sympathy and of cohesion must play a large part in the business
of helping the evolution of man towards the goal of normal life.
Although our actual knowledge already provides a basis of rational
morality, it may be admitted that in the future, if science continues its
forward march, the rules of moral conduct will become still more improved.
Page 251
There will be no ground for reproaching me for a blind faith in the all-
powerfulness of science. Much more trust can be given to one who has
faithfully carried out his promises, than to one who has promised much and
fulfilled nothing. Science has already justified the hopes which have been
placed in it. It has saved people from the most terrible diseases, and has
made life much easier. On the other hand, religions, which demand an
uncritical faith as the means of curing the ills which afflict humanity, have
not fulfilled their promises.
The reproach that I preach blind faith in the progress of science, destined to
replace religious faith, is unjust, because my faith depends on a confidence
that science has already deserved. Equally unjust is the reproach that I have
built my system on a partly metaphysical principle. According to M.
Parodi,232 the hypothesis of physiological old age and of natural death seem
to “involve the idea of a natural duration of human life, which, however,
from accidental reasons man does not complete at present. M. Metchnikoff
repeatedly uses the expression ‘normal cycle.’ Now do we not see here the
surreptitious repetition of the old teleological conception of nature,
although at first he so energetically disavowed it? It is the belief that the
species is a necessary reality, corresponding to a definite type of its own, in
fact a special design of nature; that nature, to guide herself, had an ideal
which circumstances could mistake or degrade, but which had to be
restored to its perfect form? Otherwise, why does he insist that there must
be a condition of perfect and stable equilibrium between individual and
environment? that there is a normal cycle and that it must be possible to
harmonise the disharmonies?”
I can show easily that all these objections rest upon a simple
misunderstanding. I have never conceived of the existence of any ideal of
nature or of the inevitable necessity of transforming disharmonies to
harmonies. I have no knowledge of the “designs” and “motives” of nature; I
have never taken my stand on metaphysical ground. I have not the remotest
idea if nature has any ideal and if the appearance of man on the earth were a
part of such an ideal. What I have spoken of is the ideal of man
corresponding to the need to ward off the great evils of old age as it is now,
and of death as we see it around us. I have said, moreover, that human
nature, that collection of complex features of multiple origin, contains
certain elements which may be used to modify it according to our human
powerfulness of science. Much more trust can be given to one who has
faithfully carried out his promises, than to one who has promised much and
fulfilled nothing. Science has already justified the hopes which have been
placed in it. It has saved people from the most terrible diseases, and has
made life much easier. On the other hand, religions, which demand an
uncritical faith as the means of curing the ills which afflict humanity, have
not fulfilled their promises.
The reproach that I preach blind faith in the progress of science, destined to
replace religious faith, is unjust, because my faith depends on a confidence
that science has already deserved. Equally unjust is the reproach that I have
built my system on a partly metaphysical principle. According to M.
Parodi,232 the hypothesis of physiological old age and of natural death seem
to “involve the idea of a natural duration of human life, which, however,
from accidental reasons man does not complete at present. M. Metchnikoff
repeatedly uses the expression ‘normal cycle.’ Now do we not see here the
surreptitious repetition of the old teleological conception of nature,
although at first he so energetically disavowed it? It is the belief that the
species is a necessary reality, corresponding to a definite type of its own, in
fact a special design of nature; that nature, to guide herself, had an ideal
which circumstances could mistake or degrade, but which had to be
restored to its perfect form? Otherwise, why does he insist that there must
be a condition of perfect and stable equilibrium between individual and
environment? that there is a normal cycle and that it must be possible to
harmonise the disharmonies?”
I can show easily that all these objections rest upon a simple
misunderstanding. I have never conceived of the existence of any ideal of
nature or of the inevitable necessity of transforming disharmonies to
harmonies. I have no knowledge of the “designs” and “motives” of nature; I
have never taken my stand on metaphysical ground. I have not the remotest
idea if nature has any ideal and if the appearance of man on the earth were a
part of such an ideal. What I have spoken of is the ideal of man
corresponding to the need to ward off the great evils of old age as it is now,
and of death as we see it around us. I have said, moreover, that human
nature, that collection of complex features of multiple origin, contains
certain elements which may be used to modify it according to our human
Page 252
ideal. I have done nothing but what the horticulturist does when he finds in
the nature of plants elements which suggest to him to try and make new and
improved races. Just as the constitution of some plum trees contains
elements which make it possible to produce plums without stones which are
pleasanter to eat, so also in our own nature there exist characters which
make it possible to transform our disharmonious nature into a harmonious
one, in accordance with our ideal, and able to bring us happiness. I have not
the smallest idea what ideal nature may have on the subject of plums, but I
know very well that man has such designs and such an ideal as form a point
of departure for the transformation of the nature of plums. Substitute man
for the plum tree and you are at my point of view. When I have spoken of
the normal cycle of life or of physiological old age, I have used the words
normal and physiological only in relation to our ideal of the human
constitution. I might just as well have said that a cactus without thorns is the
normal cactus in the conditions where it was desired to obtain a succulent
plant useful as food for cattle. The words “normal” and “physiological”
seemed to me more convenient than such a phrase as “in correspondence
with human ideals.”
I am so little convinced of the existence of any disposition of nature to
transform our ills into goods, and our disharmonies into harmonies, that it
would not surprise me if such an ideal were never reached. Even in
unmetaphysical circles it is said that nature has the intention of preserving
the species at the expense of the individual. The ground of this is that the
species survives the individual. On the other hand, very many species have
completely disappeared. Amongst these species were animals very highly
organised, such as some anthropoid apes (Dryopithecus, etc.). As nature has
not spared these, how can we be certain that she is not ready to deal with
the human race in the same way. It is impossible for us to know the
unknown, its plans and motives. We must leave nature on one side and
concern ourselves with what is more congruous with our intelligence.
Our intelligence informs us that man is capable of much, and for this reason
we hope that he may be able to modify his own nature and transform his
disharmonies into harmonies. It is only human will that can attain this ideal.
the nature of plants elements which suggest to him to try and make new and
improved races. Just as the constitution of some plum trees contains
elements which make it possible to produce plums without stones which are
pleasanter to eat, so also in our own nature there exist characters which
make it possible to transform our disharmonious nature into a harmonious
one, in accordance with our ideal, and able to bring us happiness. I have not
the smallest idea what ideal nature may have on the subject of plums, but I
know very well that man has such designs and such an ideal as form a point
of departure for the transformation of the nature of plums. Substitute man
for the plum tree and you are at my point of view. When I have spoken of
the normal cycle of life or of physiological old age, I have used the words
normal and physiological only in relation to our ideal of the human
constitution. I might just as well have said that a cactus without thorns is the
normal cactus in the conditions where it was desired to obtain a succulent
plant useful as food for cattle. The words “normal” and “physiological”
seemed to me more convenient than such a phrase as “in correspondence
with human ideals.”
I am so little convinced of the existence of any disposition of nature to
transform our ills into goods, and our disharmonies into harmonies, that it
would not surprise me if such an ideal were never reached. Even in
unmetaphysical circles it is said that nature has the intention of preserving
the species at the expense of the individual. The ground of this is that the
species survives the individual. On the other hand, very many species have
completely disappeared. Amongst these species were animals very highly
organised, such as some anthropoid apes (Dryopithecus, etc.). As nature has
not spared these, how can we be certain that she is not ready to deal with
the human race in the same way. It is impossible for us to know the
unknown, its plans and motives. We must leave nature on one side and
concern ourselves with what is more congruous with our intelligence.
Our intelligence informs us that man is capable of much, and for this reason
we hope that he may be able to modify his own nature and transform his
disharmonies into harmonies. It is only human will that can attain this ideal.
Page 253
FOOTNOTES:
1 Westergaard, Mortalitaet u. Morbilitaet, 2nd. Edit., 1901, pp. 653-655.
2 The volume of the urine excreted in 24 hours (in January 1905) was 500 c.c., with a
density of 1019. There was no albumen or sugar. The quantity, per litre, of urea was 11·50
gr., of chlorides 9 gr., of phosphates 1·15 gr. The sediment contained crystals of uric acid,
some pavement epithelium cells, a very few cells from the tubules, some hyaline platelets
and isolated white corpuscles.
3 Extinct Animals, London, 1905, pp. 28, 29.
4 Rendiconti d. Accad. d. Lincei, 1906, vol. xiv. pp. 351, 390.
5 Ueb. d. physiologische Degeneration bei Actinosphærium eichhornii. Jena, 1904.
6 “Senescence and Rejuvenation,” Journal of Physiology, 1891, t. xii.
7 Biologisches Centralblatt, 1904, pp. 65, 81, 113.
8 Comptes rendus de l’Académie des sciences, 23 April, 1900.
9 Revue générale des sciences, 30 Dec., 1904, p. 1116.
10 Le Bulletin médical, 1906, p. 721; Le Cerveau sénile, Lille, 1906, pp. 64-69.
11 Mémoires couronnés publiés par l’Académie royale de Belgique, Bruxelles, 1906.
12 Revue de Médecine, Nov., 1906, p. 870.
13 Annales de l’Institut Pasteur, Oct. 1906, p. 859.
14 Annales de l’Institut Pasteur, 1900, vol. xiv. p. 113.
15 Eléments d’histologie humaine, French translation, 1856, p. 222.
16 Leçons sur la physiologie du système nerveux, 1866.
17 De la dégenérescence graisseuse des muscles chez des vieillards. Paris, 1867.
18 Demange, Étude sur la vieillesse, 1886, p. 118.
19 C. R. de la Société de Biologie, 14 November, 1903.
20 Clinica medica, 1905, n. 6.
21 Bulletins de la Société royale des sciences-medicales de Bruxelles, 1905, n. 4, p. 105.
22 Sarbach, Mittheilungen a. d. Grenzgeb. d. Med. u. Chir., vol. xv. 1906.
23 Verhandlungen d. Kongr. f. innere Medicin. Wiesbaden, 1906, pp. 59, 98.
24 Archives de Neurologie, 1886.
25 Die Function d. Schilddrüse, Virchow’s Festschrift, vol. i. 1891, p. 369.
26 Fuss, Der Greisenbogen, in Virchow’s Archiv, 1905, vol. clxxxii. p. 407; S. Toufesco,
Sur le cristallin, Paris, 1906.
27 Edmond Fournier, Stigmates dystrophiques de l’hérédosyphilis, Paris, 1898, p. 4.
28 Histoire naturelle générale et particulière, vol. ii. Paris, 1749.
1 Westergaard, Mortalitaet u. Morbilitaet, 2nd. Edit., 1901, pp. 653-655.
2 The volume of the urine excreted in 24 hours (in January 1905) was 500 c.c., with a
density of 1019. There was no albumen or sugar. The quantity, per litre, of urea was 11·50
gr., of chlorides 9 gr., of phosphates 1·15 gr. The sediment contained crystals of uric acid,
some pavement epithelium cells, a very few cells from the tubules, some hyaline platelets
and isolated white corpuscles.
3 Extinct Animals, London, 1905, pp. 28, 29.
4 Rendiconti d. Accad. d. Lincei, 1906, vol. xiv. pp. 351, 390.
5 Ueb. d. physiologische Degeneration bei Actinosphærium eichhornii. Jena, 1904.
6 “Senescence and Rejuvenation,” Journal of Physiology, 1891, t. xii.
7 Biologisches Centralblatt, 1904, pp. 65, 81, 113.
8 Comptes rendus de l’Académie des sciences, 23 April, 1900.
9 Revue générale des sciences, 30 Dec., 1904, p. 1116.
10 Le Bulletin médical, 1906, p. 721; Le Cerveau sénile, Lille, 1906, pp. 64-69.
11 Mémoires couronnés publiés par l’Académie royale de Belgique, Bruxelles, 1906.
12 Revue de Médecine, Nov., 1906, p. 870.
13 Annales de l’Institut Pasteur, Oct. 1906, p. 859.
14 Annales de l’Institut Pasteur, 1900, vol. xiv. p. 113.
15 Eléments d’histologie humaine, French translation, 1856, p. 222.
16 Leçons sur la physiologie du système nerveux, 1866.
17 De la dégenérescence graisseuse des muscles chez des vieillards. Paris, 1867.
18 Demange, Étude sur la vieillesse, 1886, p. 118.
19 C. R. de la Société de Biologie, 14 November, 1903.
20 Clinica medica, 1905, n. 6.
21 Bulletins de la Société royale des sciences-medicales de Bruxelles, 1905, n. 4, p. 105.
22 Sarbach, Mittheilungen a. d. Grenzgeb. d. Med. u. Chir., vol. xv. 1906.
23 Verhandlungen d. Kongr. f. innere Medicin. Wiesbaden, 1906, pp. 59, 98.
24 Archives de Neurologie, 1886.
25 Die Function d. Schilddrüse, Virchow’s Festschrift, vol. i. 1891, p. 369.
26 Fuss, Der Greisenbogen, in Virchow’s Archiv, 1905, vol. clxxxii. p. 407; S. Toufesco,
Sur le cristallin, Paris, 1906.
27 Edmond Fournier, Stigmates dystrophiques de l’hérédosyphilis, Paris, 1898, p. 4.
28 Histoire naturelle générale et particulière, vol. ii. Paris, 1749.
Page 254
29 De la longévité humaine et de la quantité de vie sur le globe, Paris, 1855.
30 Ueber die Dauer des Lebens, Jena, 1882, p. 4.
31 Brehm, La vie des animaux, Mammifères, vol. ii. p. 623.
32 Leçons sur la physiologie et l’anatomie comparée, vol. ix. 1870, p. 446.
33 Archiv f. die gesammte Physiologie, Bonn, 1903, vol. xcv. p. 606.
34 La Nature, May 12, 1900, p. 378.
35 Ashworth and Annandale, Proceedings of the R. Society of Edinburgh, vol. xxv. part iv.
1904.
36 Bronn’s Klassen u. Ordnungen des Thierreichs, vol. iii. p. 466.
37 Weismann, The Duration of Life, in “Essays on Heredity” (English translation), Oxford,
1889.
38 Oustalet, “La Longévité chez les Animaux vertébrés,” La Nature, May 12, 1900, p. 378.
39 “On the Comparative Ages to which Birds live,” The Ibis, Jan., 1899, vol. v. p. 19.
40 J. Maumus, “Les cæcums des oiseaux,” Annales des sciences naturelles, 902. See also
P. Chalmers Mitchell, “On the Intestinal Tract of Birds,” Trans. Linnæan Soc. of London,
vol. viii. part 7, 1901.
41 Weidersheim, Elements of the Comparative Anatomy of Vertebrates, translated by W.
Newton Parker, p. 236, 1886.
42 Elements of Comparative Anatomy, English translation by F. Jeffrey Bell, B.A., London,
1878, p. 562.
43 Virchow’s Archiv, 1869, vol. xlviii. p. 151.
44 P. Chalmers Mitchell, “On the Intestinal Tract of Mammals,” Trans. Zool. Soc. of
London, vol. xvii. part 5, 1905.
45 Travaux de la Société des médecins russes à Saint-Pétersbourg. September-October,
1905, p. 18 (in Russian).
46 Virchow’s Archiv, 1874, vol. lix, p. 161.
47 Zeitschrift f. klinische. Medicin, 1887, vol. xii.
48 Mittheilungen a. d. Grenzgebieten d. Medicin u. Chirurgie, 1905, vol. xiv.
49 Aldor, Centralblatt f. innere Medicin, 1898, p. 161.
50 L’année biologique, 7th year, 1902. Paris, 1903, p. 590.
51 Gazette des Hôpitaux, 1904, p. 715.
52 Accidents dus à la Constipation pendant la Grossesse, l’Accouchement et les Suites des
Couches. Thèse, Paris, 1902, p. 32.
53 Comptes rendus de l’Académie des Sciences, Paris, 1905, 10 July, p. 136.
54 Archiv. f. klinische Chirurgie, 1901, vol. lxiii, p. 773.
55 Kolle u. Wassermann, Handb. d. pathogenen Mikro-organismen, vol. ii, 1903, p. 678.
56 Ficker, in the Archiv. für Hygiene, vol. lii, p. 179, has recently published the results of
an investigation into this.
30 Ueber die Dauer des Lebens, Jena, 1882, p. 4.
31 Brehm, La vie des animaux, Mammifères, vol. ii. p. 623.
32 Leçons sur la physiologie et l’anatomie comparée, vol. ix. 1870, p. 446.
33 Archiv f. die gesammte Physiologie, Bonn, 1903, vol. xcv. p. 606.
34 La Nature, May 12, 1900, p. 378.
35 Ashworth and Annandale, Proceedings of the R. Society of Edinburgh, vol. xxv. part iv.
1904.
36 Bronn’s Klassen u. Ordnungen des Thierreichs, vol. iii. p. 466.
37 Weismann, The Duration of Life, in “Essays on Heredity” (English translation), Oxford,
1889.
38 Oustalet, “La Longévité chez les Animaux vertébrés,” La Nature, May 12, 1900, p. 378.
39 “On the Comparative Ages to which Birds live,” The Ibis, Jan., 1899, vol. v. p. 19.
40 J. Maumus, “Les cæcums des oiseaux,” Annales des sciences naturelles, 902. See also
P. Chalmers Mitchell, “On the Intestinal Tract of Birds,” Trans. Linnæan Soc. of London,
vol. viii. part 7, 1901.
41 Weidersheim, Elements of the Comparative Anatomy of Vertebrates, translated by W.
Newton Parker, p. 236, 1886.
42 Elements of Comparative Anatomy, English translation by F. Jeffrey Bell, B.A., London,
1878, p. 562.
43 Virchow’s Archiv, 1869, vol. xlviii. p. 151.
44 P. Chalmers Mitchell, “On the Intestinal Tract of Mammals,” Trans. Zool. Soc. of
London, vol. xvii. part 5, 1905.
45 Travaux de la Société des médecins russes à Saint-Pétersbourg. September-October,
1905, p. 18 (in Russian).
46 Virchow’s Archiv, 1874, vol. lix, p. 161.
47 Zeitschrift f. klinische. Medicin, 1887, vol. xii.
48 Mittheilungen a. d. Grenzgebieten d. Medicin u. Chirurgie, 1905, vol. xiv.
49 Aldor, Centralblatt f. innere Medicin, 1898, p. 161.
50 L’année biologique, 7th year, 1902. Paris, 1903, p. 590.
51 Gazette des Hôpitaux, 1904, p. 715.
52 Accidents dus à la Constipation pendant la Grossesse, l’Accouchement et les Suites des
Couches. Thèse, Paris, 1902, p. 32.
53 Comptes rendus de l’Académie des Sciences, Paris, 1905, 10 July, p. 136.
54 Archiv. f. klinische Chirurgie, 1901, vol. lxiii, p. 773.
55 Kolle u. Wassermann, Handb. d. pathogenen Mikro-organismen, vol. ii, 1903, p. 678.
56 Ficker, in the Archiv. für Hygiene, vol. lii, p. 179, has recently published the results of
an investigation into this.
Page 255
57 Quoted by Frédericq et Nuel, Eléments de physiologie humaine, 4th edition, 1899, p.
256.
58 Quoted by Frédericq et Nuel, op. cit.
59 L’aviculture (a fortnightly Russian journal), Oct. 1st, 1904, No. 19, p. 3.
60 Country Life, 1905.
61 Quoted by Ebstein, Die Kunst d. mensch. Leben zu verlängern, 1891.
62 Op. cit., p. 12.
63 Annuaire statistique de la ville de Paris, 23rd year, 1904, p. 164-171.
64 Ornstein, Virchow’s Archiv., 1891, vol. cxxv, p. 408.
65 Ebstein, op. cit., p. 70.
66 Lejoncourt, Galerie des centenaires, Paris, 1842, p. 96-98.
67 Lejoncourt, op. cit., p. 101.
68 Researches into the Physical History of Mankind, 1836, vol. i, p. 1157.
69 I owe to the kindness of M. Chemin a memoir in which he has brought together the
ancient and new records on the centenarians of all countries up to the end of the nineteenth
century. M. Chemin was unable to find a publisher, but has given me his manuscript,
extending to 182 pages.
70 Ueber die Kunst d. Verlängerung d. mensch. Lebens, Bonn, 1890, p. 23.
71 Physiologie générale, 1900, p. 381.
72 Tableaux de la nature (French translation), 1808, vol. ii, p. 109.
73 Webb and Berthelot, Histoire naturelle des îles Canaries, 1839, vol. i, part 2, pp. 97-98.
74 Bibliothèque universelle de Genève, 1839, vol. xlvi, p. 387.
75 Ibid., p. 392.
76 Bibliothèque universelle de Genève, vol. xlvii, p. 49.
77 Entstehung u. Begriff d. naturhistorischen Art, 2nd edit., Munich, 1865, p. 37.
78 Griesebach, Die Vegetation der Erde.
79 Batalin, Acta Horti Petropolitani, vol. xi, no. 6, 1890, p. 289.
80 I am indebted to Prof. Hugo de Vries for this and other instances of the prolongation of
life in plants.
81 Engler’s Botanische Jahrbücher, Leipzig, 1882, vol. ii, p. 51.
82 Organographie der Pflanzen, Iéna, 1898-1901.
83 Bulletin du jardin botanique de Bruxelles, vol. i, no. 6, 1905.
84 Hugo de Vries, Jahrbücher für wissensch. Botanik, 1890, vol. xxii, p. 52.
85 Annales de l’Institut Pasteur, 1902, p. 71.
86 Duclaux, Microbiologie, vol. iii, 1900, p. 460.
87 Archiv. für Anatomie und Physiologie, 1864.
256.
58 Quoted by Frédericq et Nuel, op. cit.
59 L’aviculture (a fortnightly Russian journal), Oct. 1st, 1904, No. 19, p. 3.
60 Country Life, 1905.
61 Quoted by Ebstein, Die Kunst d. mensch. Leben zu verlängern, 1891.
62 Op. cit., p. 12.
63 Annuaire statistique de la ville de Paris, 23rd year, 1904, p. 164-171.
64 Ornstein, Virchow’s Archiv., 1891, vol. cxxv, p. 408.
65 Ebstein, op. cit., p. 70.
66 Lejoncourt, Galerie des centenaires, Paris, 1842, p. 96-98.
67 Lejoncourt, op. cit., p. 101.
68 Researches into the Physical History of Mankind, 1836, vol. i, p. 1157.
69 I owe to the kindness of M. Chemin a memoir in which he has brought together the
ancient and new records on the centenarians of all countries up to the end of the nineteenth
century. M. Chemin was unable to find a publisher, but has given me his manuscript,
extending to 182 pages.
70 Ueber die Kunst d. Verlängerung d. mensch. Lebens, Bonn, 1890, p. 23.
71 Physiologie générale, 1900, p. 381.
72 Tableaux de la nature (French translation), 1808, vol. ii, p. 109.
73 Webb and Berthelot, Histoire naturelle des îles Canaries, 1839, vol. i, part 2, pp. 97-98.
74 Bibliothèque universelle de Genève, 1839, vol. xlvi, p. 387.
75 Ibid., p. 392.
76 Bibliothèque universelle de Genève, vol. xlvii, p. 49.
77 Entstehung u. Begriff d. naturhistorischen Art, 2nd edit., Munich, 1865, p. 37.
78 Griesebach, Die Vegetation der Erde.
79 Batalin, Acta Horti Petropolitani, vol. xi, no. 6, 1890, p. 289.
80 I am indebted to Prof. Hugo de Vries for this and other instances of the prolongation of
life in plants.
81 Engler’s Botanische Jahrbücher, Leipzig, 1882, vol. ii, p. 51.
82 Organographie der Pflanzen, Iéna, 1898-1901.
83 Bulletin du jardin botanique de Bruxelles, vol. i, no. 6, 1905.
84 Hugo de Vries, Jahrbücher für wissensch. Botanik, 1890, vol. xxii, p. 52.
85 Annales de l’Institut Pasteur, 1902, p. 71.
86 Duclaux, Microbiologie, vol. iii, 1900, p. 460.
87 Archiv. für Anatomie und Physiologie, 1864.
Page 256
88 Archives de Zoologie expérimentale, 1901, vol. ix, p. 81.
89 Observations of Dr. Speyer, quoted by Weismann.
90 See The Nature of Man.
91 Étude clinique sur la vieillesse, Paris, 1886, p. 145.
92 Revue scientifique, 1877, p. 1173.
93 Revue scientifique, 1887, 2nd part, p. 105.
94 Gabriel Bertrand, Annales de l’Institut Pasteur, 1904, p. 672.
95 Therapeutische Monatshefte, 1904, p. 193.
96 Münchener medicinische Wochenschrift, 1904, No. 1; Verhandlungen der
physiologischen Gesellschaft zu Berlin, Dec. 5th, 1904.
97 Archives des sciences physiques et naturelles, Geneva, March, 1905, vol. xvii; Archives
de physiologie, vol. iv, p. 245.
98 Laveran and Mesnil, Trypanosomes et Trypanosomiases, Paris, 1904, p. 328.
99 Paris, 1834, 4th edition, vol. ii, p. 118.
100 Revue de métaphysique et de morale, March, 1904.
101 Année biologique, vol. vii, p. 595.
102 Revue occidentale, July 1st, 1904, vol. xxx, p. 87.
103 Egger, “Le moi des mourants,” Revue philosophique, 1896, i, p. 27.
104 Ibid., pp. 303-307; v. also Bulletin de l’Institut général phycholog., 1903, p. 29.
105 Cicero, Tusculanes, chap, xxviii.
106 Rapport de M. Bienvenu-Martin à la Chambre des députés, Paris, 1903.
107 L’Art de prolonger la vie humaine (French translation), Lausanne, 1809, p. 5.
108 A. Réville, Histoire des religions, vol. iii, Paris, 1889, p. 428.
109 A. Réville, loc. cit., p. 455.
110 Comptes rendus de la Societé de Biologie, 1899, p. 415.
111 Deutsche medicin. Wochenschrift, 1891, p. 1027.
112 Die physiologisch-chemisch. Grundlagen d. Spermintheorie, Berlin, 1898.
113 British Medical Journal, 1904; Deutsche Mediz. Wochenschr., 1904, Nos. 18-21.
114 Die Lehre von d. Mortalitaet u. Morbilitaet, 2nd edition, Jena, 1901.
115 Medizinische Klinik, 1905, No. 22.
116 Die experimentelle Syphilisforschung, Berlin, 1906, p. 82.
117 Annales de l’Institut Pasteur, 1900, pp. 369-413.
118 Les sérums hemolytiques, Lyon, 1903.
119 According to a recent publication of M. Ellenberger (Archiv. f. Anatomie u.
Physiologie, Physiologische Abtheilung, 1906, p. 139), the cæca of the horse, pig and
rabbit, play an active part in the digestion of vegetable matter, which is rich in cellulose. At
89 Observations of Dr. Speyer, quoted by Weismann.
90 See The Nature of Man.
91 Étude clinique sur la vieillesse, Paris, 1886, p. 145.
92 Revue scientifique, 1877, p. 1173.
93 Revue scientifique, 1887, 2nd part, p. 105.
94 Gabriel Bertrand, Annales de l’Institut Pasteur, 1904, p. 672.
95 Therapeutische Monatshefte, 1904, p. 193.
96 Münchener medicinische Wochenschrift, 1904, No. 1; Verhandlungen der
physiologischen Gesellschaft zu Berlin, Dec. 5th, 1904.
97 Archives des sciences physiques et naturelles, Geneva, March, 1905, vol. xvii; Archives
de physiologie, vol. iv, p. 245.
98 Laveran and Mesnil, Trypanosomes et Trypanosomiases, Paris, 1904, p. 328.
99 Paris, 1834, 4th edition, vol. ii, p. 118.
100 Revue de métaphysique et de morale, March, 1904.
101 Année biologique, vol. vii, p. 595.
102 Revue occidentale, July 1st, 1904, vol. xxx, p. 87.
103 Egger, “Le moi des mourants,” Revue philosophique, 1896, i, p. 27.
104 Ibid., pp. 303-307; v. also Bulletin de l’Institut général phycholog., 1903, p. 29.
105 Cicero, Tusculanes, chap, xxviii.
106 Rapport de M. Bienvenu-Martin à la Chambre des députés, Paris, 1903.
107 L’Art de prolonger la vie humaine (French translation), Lausanne, 1809, p. 5.
108 A. Réville, Histoire des religions, vol. iii, Paris, 1889, p. 428.
109 A. Réville, loc. cit., p. 455.
110 Comptes rendus de la Societé de Biologie, 1899, p. 415.
111 Deutsche medicin. Wochenschrift, 1891, p. 1027.
112 Die physiologisch-chemisch. Grundlagen d. Spermintheorie, Berlin, 1898.
113 British Medical Journal, 1904; Deutsche Mediz. Wochenschr., 1904, Nos. 18-21.
114 Die Lehre von d. Mortalitaet u. Morbilitaet, 2nd edition, Jena, 1901.
115 Medizinische Klinik, 1905, No. 22.
116 Die experimentelle Syphilisforschung, Berlin, 1906, p. 82.
117 Annales de l’Institut Pasteur, 1900, pp. 369-413.
118 Les sérums hemolytiques, Lyon, 1903.
119 According to a recent publication of M. Ellenberger (Archiv. f. Anatomie u.
Physiologie, Physiologische Abtheilung, 1906, p. 139), the cæca of the horse, pig and
rabbit, play an active part in the digestion of vegetable matter, which is rich in cellulose. At
Page 257
the end of his treatise, Ellenberger insists that the vermiform appendix of the cæcum is not
a rudimentary organ. The reason why the appendix can be removed in the case of man
without disturbance to the functions of the body, is that this work can be performed by the
Peyer’s patches of the intestine. The existence of the appendix is not necessary to the
normal processes of the body, and is a real danger to health and sometimes to life.
Comparative study of the cæca in birds shows that these organs are in process of
degeneration.
120 Archiv. für experimentelle Pathologie, vol. xxviii, p. 311.
121 Sixième Congrès de Chirurgie, Paris, 1903, p. 86.
122 Leçons sur les auto-intoxications, Paris, 1886.
123 Zeitschrift für Hygiene, 1892, vol. xii, p. 88.
124 Zeitschrift für klinische Medicin, 1903, vol. xlviii, p. 491.
125 There is a summary of this question in Gerhardt’s work on intestinal putrefaction, in
Ergebnisse der Physiologie, 3rd year, section 1, Wiesbaden, 1904, pp. 107-154.
126 The A B C of our Nutrition, New York, 1903; Dr. Regnault, Nov. 1, “L’art de manger,”
La Revue, 1906, p. 92.
127 Zeitschr. f. diatetische u. physikal. Therapie, t. viii, 1904, 1905.
128 Du Cap au lac Nyassa, Paris, 1897, pp. 291-294.
129 Gaffky and Paak, in Arbeiten d. k. Gesundheitsamtes, vol. vi, 1890.
130 Annales de l’Institut Pasteur, 1903.
131 Cormouls-Houlès, Vingt-sept années d’agriculture pratique, Paris, 1899, pp. 57-58.
132 British Medical Journal, 1897, Dec. 25th, p. 1898.
133 Comptes rendus de la Soc. de Biologie, 1906, March 17th.
134 Dr. Combe, L’auto intoxication intestinale, Paris, 1906. This valuable work contains
much useful information on the subject.
135 Grundzach, Zeitschrift für klinische Medezin, 1893, p. 70; Schmitz, Zeitschrift für
physiologische Chemie, 1894, vol. xix, p. 401; Singer, Therapeutische Monatshefte, 1901,
p. 441.
136 Journal für praktische Chemie, 1882, vol. xxvi, p. 43.
137 Archiv. für experimentelle Pathologie, 1883, vol. xvii, p. 442.
138 In the English authorised version as in the translation of Osterwald the word “butter” is
used in place of “soured milk.” Professor Metchnikoff follows the translation given by
Ebstein in his work on the Medicine of the Old Testament.
139 Presse médicale, 1904, p. 619.
140 “An authentic narrative of the loss of the American brig Commerce wrecked on the
western coast of Africa in the month of August, 1815, with an account of the sufferings of
the surviving officers and crew, who were enslaved by the wandering Arabs on the African
desert or Zaharah; and observations historical, geographical, etc.” by James Riley.
Hartford, S. Andrus and Son, 1854.
141 Arbeiten a. d. k. Gesundheitsamte, 1889, vol. v, pp. 297-304.
a rudimentary organ. The reason why the appendix can be removed in the case of man
without disturbance to the functions of the body, is that this work can be performed by the
Peyer’s patches of the intestine. The existence of the appendix is not necessary to the
normal processes of the body, and is a real danger to health and sometimes to life.
Comparative study of the cæca in birds shows that these organs are in process of
degeneration.
120 Archiv. für experimentelle Pathologie, vol. xxviii, p. 311.
121 Sixième Congrès de Chirurgie, Paris, 1903, p. 86.
122 Leçons sur les auto-intoxications, Paris, 1886.
123 Zeitschrift für Hygiene, 1892, vol. xii, p. 88.
124 Zeitschrift für klinische Medicin, 1903, vol. xlviii, p. 491.
125 There is a summary of this question in Gerhardt’s work on intestinal putrefaction, in
Ergebnisse der Physiologie, 3rd year, section 1, Wiesbaden, 1904, pp. 107-154.
126 The A B C of our Nutrition, New York, 1903; Dr. Regnault, Nov. 1, “L’art de manger,”
La Revue, 1906, p. 92.
127 Zeitschr. f. diatetische u. physikal. Therapie, t. viii, 1904, 1905.
128 Du Cap au lac Nyassa, Paris, 1897, pp. 291-294.
129 Gaffky and Paak, in Arbeiten d. k. Gesundheitsamtes, vol. vi, 1890.
130 Annales de l’Institut Pasteur, 1903.
131 Cormouls-Houlès, Vingt-sept années d’agriculture pratique, Paris, 1899, pp. 57-58.
132 British Medical Journal, 1897, Dec. 25th, p. 1898.
133 Comptes rendus de la Soc. de Biologie, 1906, March 17th.
134 Dr. Combe, L’auto intoxication intestinale, Paris, 1906. This valuable work contains
much useful information on the subject.
135 Grundzach, Zeitschrift für klinische Medezin, 1893, p. 70; Schmitz, Zeitschrift für
physiologische Chemie, 1894, vol. xix, p. 401; Singer, Therapeutische Monatshefte, 1901,
p. 441.
136 Journal für praktische Chemie, 1882, vol. xxvi, p. 43.
137 Archiv. für experimentelle Pathologie, 1883, vol. xvii, p. 442.
138 In the English authorised version as in the translation of Osterwald the word “butter” is
used in place of “soured milk.” Professor Metchnikoff follows the translation given by
Ebstein in his work on the Medicine of the Old Testament.
139 Presse médicale, 1904, p. 619.
140 “An authentic narrative of the loss of the American brig Commerce wrecked on the
western coast of Africa in the month of August, 1815, with an account of the sufferings of
the surviving officers and crew, who were enslaved by the wandering Arabs on the African
desert or Zaharah; and observations historical, geographical, etc.” by James Riley.
Hartford, S. Andrus and Son, 1854.
141 Arbeiten a. d. k. Gesundheitsamte, 1889, vol. v, pp. 297-304.
Page 258
142 See Grasberger and Schattenfroh, Archiv. für Hygiene, 1902, vol. xlii, p. 246.
143 Annales de l’Institut Pasteur, 1902, p. 65.
144 Revue médicale de la Suisse romande, 1905, p. 716.
145 Comptes rendus de la Soc. Biologique, March 17th, 1906.
146 Annales de l’Institut Pasteur, 1906, p. 977.
147 Soured milk can be taken at any time of the day, with or in between meals.
148 Jahrbuch für Kinderheilkunde, N. F. 12 Ergænsungsheft, 1900.
149 Annales de l’Institut Pasteur, 1905, p. 295; Tribune médicale, Feb. 24th, 1906.
150 La nature humaine et la philosophie optimiste, Paris, 1904.
151 Archiv. f. Anat. u. Physiol., Anatom. Abtheil, 1903, p. 205.
152 L’univers et la vie, p. 592.
153 Huxley, Man’s Place in Nature. Collected Essays, vol. vii, p. 54.
154 Ibid., p. 60.
155 Ibid., p. 62.
156 Ibid., p. 67.
157 Ménégaux, Les Mammifères, p. 24.
158 Darwin, Expression of the Emotions in Man and Animals, 1873, p. 67.
159 Biologisches Centralblatt, 1904, p. 475.
160 J. de Fontenelle, Nouveau manuel complet des nageurs, Paris, 1837, p. 2.
161 La natation et les bains, Paris, 1887.
162 Quoted by M. Pitres in Leçons cliniques sur l’hystérie, 1891, vol. i.
163 Bourneville et Regnard, Iconographie photographique de la Salpétrière, 1879-1880,
vol. iii, p. 50.
164 Stéphanie Feinkind, Du somnambulisme dit naturel, Paris, 1893, p. 55.
165 Dictionnaire des sciences médicales, 1821, vol. lii, p. 119.
166 Du Sommeil non naturel, Paris, 1886.
167 Conférence faite à la Société de l’Internat, June 28th, 1906.
168 The Crowd: a Study of the Popular Mind. English translation, London, 1896.
169 Souvenirs d’enfance de S. Kowalevsky, 1895, pp. 301-311.
170 W. Herzberg, Sozialdemokratie und Anarchismus, 1906, p. 17.
171 Le problème agraire, 1905, p. 147.
172 “The Coming Slavery” in Man versus the State, 1888, p. 18.
173 Human, too Human. French translation, 1899, pp. 405-407. A German critic has
reproached me for my ignorance of Nietzsche’s works. I have read several of them, but the
mixture of genius and madness in them makes them difficult to use. In this connection
143 Annales de l’Institut Pasteur, 1902, p. 65.
144 Revue médicale de la Suisse romande, 1905, p. 716.
145 Comptes rendus de la Soc. Biologique, March 17th, 1906.
146 Annales de l’Institut Pasteur, 1906, p. 977.
147 Soured milk can be taken at any time of the day, with or in between meals.
148 Jahrbuch für Kinderheilkunde, N. F. 12 Ergænsungsheft, 1900.
149 Annales de l’Institut Pasteur, 1905, p. 295; Tribune médicale, Feb. 24th, 1906.
150 La nature humaine et la philosophie optimiste, Paris, 1904.
151 Archiv. f. Anat. u. Physiol., Anatom. Abtheil, 1903, p. 205.
152 L’univers et la vie, p. 592.
153 Huxley, Man’s Place in Nature. Collected Essays, vol. vii, p. 54.
154 Ibid., p. 60.
155 Ibid., p. 62.
156 Ibid., p. 67.
157 Ménégaux, Les Mammifères, p. 24.
158 Darwin, Expression of the Emotions in Man and Animals, 1873, p. 67.
159 Biologisches Centralblatt, 1904, p. 475.
160 J. de Fontenelle, Nouveau manuel complet des nageurs, Paris, 1837, p. 2.
161 La natation et les bains, Paris, 1887.
162 Quoted by M. Pitres in Leçons cliniques sur l’hystérie, 1891, vol. i.
163 Bourneville et Regnard, Iconographie photographique de la Salpétrière, 1879-1880,
vol. iii, p. 50.
164 Stéphanie Feinkind, Du somnambulisme dit naturel, Paris, 1893, p. 55.
165 Dictionnaire des sciences médicales, 1821, vol. lii, p. 119.
166 Du Sommeil non naturel, Paris, 1886.
167 Conférence faite à la Société de l’Internat, June 28th, 1906.
168 The Crowd: a Study of the Popular Mind. English translation, London, 1896.
169 Souvenirs d’enfance de S. Kowalevsky, 1895, pp. 301-311.
170 W. Herzberg, Sozialdemokratie und Anarchismus, 1906, p. 17.
171 Le problème agraire, 1905, p. 147.
172 “The Coming Slavery” in Man versus the State, 1888, p. 18.
173 Human, too Human. French translation, 1899, pp. 405-407. A German critic has
reproached me for my ignorance of Nietzsche’s works. I have read several of them, but the
mixture of genius and madness in them makes them difficult to use. In this connection
Page 259
Moebius’ volume, Ueber das Pathologische bei Nietzsche (Wiesbaden, 1902), is of
interest.
174 Quoted by Oldenberg, Le Bouddha, French translation, Paris, 1894, p. 214.
175 P. Régnaud, “Le pessimisme brahmanique,” in Annales du Musée Guimet, 1880, vol. i,
pp. 110-111.
176 Guyau, La Morale d’Epicure, 4th edition, 1904, p. 116.
177 Ad Marciam, chap. x.
178 Poésies et œuvres morales, by Leopardi. Translated into French 1880, p. 49.
179 These facts are taken from Westergaard, 2nd edit., 1901, p. 649.
180 Dieudonné, Archiv für Kulturgeschichte, 1903, vol. i, p. 357.
181 Kowalevsky, Studien zur Psychologie des Pessimismus, Wiesbaden, 1904.
182 Medicinische Klinik, 1906, n. 25 and 26.
183 Der Werth des Lebens.
184 Ueber Schopenhauer, Leipzig, 1899.
185 Moebius, Goethe, vol. i, Leipzig, 1903.
186 V. Kunz, “Zur Blindenphysiologie,” Wiener medicin. Wochenschrift, 1902, No. 21.
187 Physiologie de la Lecture et de l’Écriture, Paris, 1905.
188 Entre aveugles, Paris, 1903.
189 Der Blindenfreund, Feb. 15th, 1906.
190 Critical and Miscellaneous Essays, vol. i, pp. 164-5, in the Essay on Goethe.
191 Briefwechsel zwischen Goethe und Zelter. Letter of Dec. 3, 1812.
192 Quoted in Moebius’ Goethe, vol. ii, p. 80.
193 The Fifth Roman Elegy, Blaze’s French translation, 1873 p. 186. Some of Goethe’s
biographers, and amongst them G. H. Lewes, maintain that these lines relate to Christine,
Goethe’s wife. This is erroneous; they refer to Faustine (see Bielschowsky, i, p. 517).
194 Moebius’ Goethe, vol. ii, pp. 84-87.
195 Moebius’ Goethe, vol. ii, pp. 84-87.
196 Quoted by Bode in Goethe’s Lebenskunst, Berlin, 1905, p. 59.
197 Ueber die Wirkungen d. Castration, Halle, 1903, p. 82.
198 Comptes rendus de la Société de Biologie, 1889, p. 420.
199 The word Samen of the original is the expression of the alchemists for the “principle of
life.”
200 Erich Schmidt, Goethe’s Faust in ursprünglicher Gestalt, 6th edit., Weimar, 1905, p. 1.
201 Faust, Bayard Taylor’s translation. London: Warne & Co., pp. 20-21.
202 Op. cit., p. 32.
203 Op. cit., pp. 33, 34.
interest.
174 Quoted by Oldenberg, Le Bouddha, French translation, Paris, 1894, p. 214.
175 P. Régnaud, “Le pessimisme brahmanique,” in Annales du Musée Guimet, 1880, vol. i,
pp. 110-111.
176 Guyau, La Morale d’Epicure, 4th edition, 1904, p. 116.
177 Ad Marciam, chap. x.
178 Poésies et œuvres morales, by Leopardi. Translated into French 1880, p. 49.
179 These facts are taken from Westergaard, 2nd edit., 1901, p. 649.
180 Dieudonné, Archiv für Kulturgeschichte, 1903, vol. i, p. 357.
181 Kowalevsky, Studien zur Psychologie des Pessimismus, Wiesbaden, 1904.
182 Medicinische Klinik, 1906, n. 25 and 26.
183 Der Werth des Lebens.
184 Ueber Schopenhauer, Leipzig, 1899.
185 Moebius, Goethe, vol. i, Leipzig, 1903.
186 V. Kunz, “Zur Blindenphysiologie,” Wiener medicin. Wochenschrift, 1902, No. 21.
187 Physiologie de la Lecture et de l’Écriture, Paris, 1905.
188 Entre aveugles, Paris, 1903.
189 Der Blindenfreund, Feb. 15th, 1906.
190 Critical and Miscellaneous Essays, vol. i, pp. 164-5, in the Essay on Goethe.
191 Briefwechsel zwischen Goethe und Zelter. Letter of Dec. 3, 1812.
192 Quoted in Moebius’ Goethe, vol. ii, p. 80.
193 The Fifth Roman Elegy, Blaze’s French translation, 1873 p. 186. Some of Goethe’s
biographers, and amongst them G. H. Lewes, maintain that these lines relate to Christine,
Goethe’s wife. This is erroneous; they refer to Faustine (see Bielschowsky, i, p. 517).
194 Moebius’ Goethe, vol. ii, pp. 84-87.
195 Moebius’ Goethe, vol. ii, pp. 84-87.
196 Quoted by Bode in Goethe’s Lebenskunst, Berlin, 1905, p. 59.
197 Ueber die Wirkungen d. Castration, Halle, 1903, p. 82.
198 Comptes rendus de la Société de Biologie, 1889, p. 420.
199 The word Samen of the original is the expression of the alchemists for the “principle of
life.”
200 Erich Schmidt, Goethe’s Faust in ursprünglicher Gestalt, 6th edit., Weimar, 1905, p. 1.
201 Faust, Bayard Taylor’s translation. London: Warne & Co., pp. 20-21.
202 Op. cit., p. 32.
203 Op. cit., pp. 33, 34.
Page 260
204 Details of this will be found in Kuno Fischer’s Goethe’s Faust, pp. 328-330.
205 Op. cit., pg. 36.
206 Op. cit., pg. 45.
207 Op. cit., p. 46.
208 Op. cit., p. 46.
209 Op. cit., p. 71.
210 Op. cit., p. 51.
211 Op. cit., p. 151.
212 Op. cit., p. 203.
213 Op. cit., p. 205.
214 Op. cit., p. 230.
215 Op. cit., p. 231.
216 Op. cit., p. 284.
217 Op. cit., p. 287.
218 Op. cit., p 298.
219 Op. cit., p. 305.
220 Op. cit., p. 309.
221 Op. cit., p. 313.
222 Op. cit., p. 351.
223 Op. cit., pp. 354-355.
224 Op. cit., p. 365.
225 Op. cit., p. 370.
226 V. Tribune médicale, 1906, p. 449.
227 La Revue, Nov. 15th and Dec. 1st.
228 Essais de Philosophie critique, Paris, 1864.
229 System der Ethik, 7th and 8th editions, vol. i, p. 199. Berlin 1906.
230 De Vries, in Biologisches Centralblatt, 1906, Sept. 1st, p. 609.
231 Dr. Grasset, “La fin de la vie” in the Revue de philosophie, Aug. 1st, 1903.
232 “Morale et biologie,” Revue philosophique, 1904, vol. lviii, p. 125.
205 Op. cit., pg. 36.
206 Op. cit., pg. 45.
207 Op. cit., p. 46.
208 Op. cit., p. 46.
209 Op. cit., p. 71.
210 Op. cit., p. 51.
211 Op. cit., p. 151.
212 Op. cit., p. 203.
213 Op. cit., p. 205.
214 Op. cit., p. 230.
215 Op. cit., p. 231.
216 Op. cit., p. 284.
217 Op. cit., p. 287.
218 Op. cit., p 298.
219 Op. cit., p. 305.
220 Op. cit., p. 309.
221 Op. cit., p. 313.
222 Op. cit., p. 351.
223 Op. cit., pp. 354-355.
224 Op. cit., p. 365.
225 Op. cit., p. 370.
226 V. Tribune médicale, 1906, p. 449.
227 La Revue, Nov. 15th and Dec. 1st.
228 Essais de Philosophie critique, Paris, 1864.
229 System der Ethik, 7th and 8th editions, vol. i, p. 199. Berlin 1906.
230 De Vries, in Biologisches Centralblatt, 1906, Sept. 1st, p. 609.
231 Dr. Grasset, “La fin de la vie” in the Revue de philosophie, Aug. 1st, 1903.
232 “Morale et biologie,” Revue philosophique, 1904, vol. lviii, p. 125.
Page 261
INDEX
Abelard, 273
Abraham, use of soured milk, 171
Ackermann, Mde., 237
Actinosphærium, degeneration in, 14
Adanson, on age of Baobab-tree, 98
Adrenaline, effect of, 121
Agave, duration of life of, 100
Aged, treatment of in uncivilised countries, 1, 2
Alcohol and longevity, 91, 92
Algeria, ostriches at, 76, 78, 79
Altruism, 331
Ambard, Dr., on Mde. Robineau, 7
Anæmia, of brain, and sleep, 122
use of serums in, 149
André, M., use of serums in anæmia, 149
Anger, 321
Annandale, Nelson, on age of anemones, 48
Annuals, change to biennials or perennials, 100
death of, 102
Antelopes, excreta of, 66
Anthropoids, mental characters of, 191 et seq.
Antiseptics, use of, in intestinal putrefaction, 156
Ants, 220, 221
Apes, anthropoid, mental characters of, 191 et seq.
relationship to man, 184, 185
Arabs, use of milk by, 174
Aristotle, 132
Arteries, sclerosis of, in the aged, 31
Ascidians, social, 219
Ashworth, Mr., on age of anemones, 48
Atheroma, in the aged, 30
Atrophy, of cells, 26
Abelard, 273
Abraham, use of soured milk, 171
Ackermann, Mde., 237
Actinosphærium, degeneration in, 14
Adanson, on age of Baobab-tree, 98
Adrenaline, effect of, 121
Agave, duration of life of, 100
Aged, treatment of in uncivilised countries, 1, 2
Alcohol and longevity, 91, 92
Algeria, ostriches at, 76, 78, 79
Altruism, 331
Ambard, Dr., on Mde. Robineau, 7
Anæmia, of brain, and sleep, 122
use of serums in, 149
André, M., use of serums in anæmia, 149
Anger, 321
Annandale, Nelson, on age of anemones, 48
Annuals, change to biennials or perennials, 100
death of, 102
Antelopes, excreta of, 66
Anthropoids, mental characters of, 191 et seq.
Antiseptics, use of, in intestinal putrefaction, 156
Ants, 220, 221
Apes, anthropoid, mental characters of, 191 et seq.
relationship to man, 184, 185
Arabs, use of milk by, 174
Aristotle, 132
Arteries, sclerosis of, in the aged, 31
Ascidians, social, 219
Ashworth, Mr., on age of anemones, 48
Atheroma, in the aged, 30
Atrophy, of cells, 26
Page 262
of muscles, 28
Auditory apparatus, rudimentary organism, 188
Augsburg, elixir of life, 138
Auto-intoxication, from intestinal putrefaction, 69
in plants, 107
sleep, due to, 120
Babinsky, Dr., hysteria a relic from apes, 209
Balkan States, centenarians frequent in, 90
Baobab-tree, age of, 98
Barth, Dr., definition of somnambulism, 206
Batrachia, longevity of, 50
Bats, intestinal flora of, 80, 81
Bees, 49, 220, 226
Beetroot, perennial variety of, 100
Belgium, old age pensions, 4
Bélonovsky, M., on serums in anæmia, 148
Bélonowsky, Dr., on Bulgarian bacillus, 170
Berthelot, on dragon-tree of Orotava, 96
Bertrand, M. G., on sorbose fermentation, 106
Bertrand and Weisweiler, on Bacillus bulgaris, 179
Besredka, M., on blood serums, 148, 149
Bielschowsky, biographer of Goethe, 269
Blanchard, E., on age of carp, 50
Birds, intestinal flora of, 76, 79
longevity of, 52
Blindness, 248, 257
Bloch, Dr. I., on Schopenhauer, 247
Blood-vessels, hardening of, in the old, 31
Bodio, on infant mortality, 85
Boerhave, on gerokomy, 136
Bones, degeneration of, 29, 30
Bordet, M. J. M., on serums, 148
Botulism, poison of, 70, 82
Bouchard, M., on disinfection of intestines, 156
Auditory apparatus, rudimentary organism, 188
Augsburg, elixir of life, 138
Auto-intoxication, from intestinal putrefaction, 69
in plants, 107
sleep, due to, 120
Babinsky, Dr., hysteria a relic from apes, 209
Balkan States, centenarians frequent in, 90
Baobab-tree, age of, 98
Barth, Dr., definition of somnambulism, 206
Batrachia, longevity of, 50
Bats, intestinal flora of, 80, 81
Bees, 49, 220, 226
Beetroot, perennial variety of, 100
Belgium, old age pensions, 4
Bélonovsky, M., on serums in anæmia, 148
Bélonowsky, Dr., on Bulgarian bacillus, 170
Berthelot, on dragon-tree of Orotava, 96
Bertrand, M. G., on sorbose fermentation, 106
Bertrand and Weisweiler, on Bacillus bulgaris, 179
Besredka, M., on blood serums, 148, 149
Bielschowsky, biographer of Goethe, 269
Blanchard, E., on age of carp, 50
Birds, intestinal flora of, 76, 79
longevity of, 52
Blindness, 248, 257
Bloch, Dr. I., on Schopenhauer, 247
Blood-vessels, hardening of, in the old, 31
Bodio, on infant mortality, 85
Boerhave, on gerokomy, 136
Bones, degeneration of, 29, 30
Bordet, M. J. M., on serums, 148
Botulism, poison of, 70, 82
Bouchard, M., on disinfection of intestines, 156
Page 263
Bouchet, M., on constipation after parturition, 68
Bourneville, M., on effects of extirpation of thyroid, 34
Boveri, M., produced atherana by nicotine, 32
Bone, marrow, in old age, 37
Botryllus, 219
Boutroux, definition of morality, 303
Bradyfagy, 159
Brain, anæmia of, as cause of sleep, 122
Brehm, on age of cattle, 55
Brettes, criticism of “rudimentary organs,” 186
Bricon, M., on effects of extirpation of thyroid, 34
Brigand, Calabrian, fear of death, 194, 195
Brillat-Savarin, quotation from, 126
Brown-Séquard, specific for long life, 139, 277
Brudzinsky, M., on use of lactic microbes, 181
Buddha, on pessimism, 233, 247
Buehler, Dr., on cause of old age, 16
Buffon, on duration of life, 40, 50
Bulgarian bacillus, 178, 179, 180, 181, 182
Bunge, on relation between growth and longevity, 42
Burbank, American horticulturist, 326, 328
Butterflies, longevity of, 57
Bütschli, O., on life of cells, 15
Byron, 239, 247, 295
Cachexia, after extirpation of thyroid gland, 34
Caeca, of vertebrates, 60 et seq.
Cagliostro, elixir of life, 138
Calomel, as an intestinal antiseptic, 158
and syphilis, 146
Camphor, as an intestinal antiseptic, 156
Canary Islands, 96
Cancalon, Dr., on instinct of death, 128, 129
Cancer, and cleanliness, 144
Candolle, A. de, on cypresses of Mexico, 98
Bourneville, M., on effects of extirpation of thyroid, 34
Boveri, M., produced atherana by nicotine, 32
Bone, marrow, in old age, 37
Botryllus, 219
Boutroux, definition of morality, 303
Bradyfagy, 159
Brain, anæmia of, as cause of sleep, 122
Brehm, on age of cattle, 55
Brettes, criticism of “rudimentary organs,” 186
Bricon, M., on effects of extirpation of thyroid, 34
Brigand, Calabrian, fear of death, 194, 195
Brillat-Savarin, quotation from, 126
Brown-Séquard, specific for long life, 139, 277
Brudzinsky, M., on use of lactic microbes, 181
Buddha, on pessimism, 233, 247
Buehler, Dr., on cause of old age, 16
Buffon, on duration of life, 40, 50
Bulgarian bacillus, 178, 179, 180, 181, 182
Bunge, on relation between growth and longevity, 42
Burbank, American horticulturist, 326, 328
Butterflies, longevity of, 57
Bütschli, O., on life of cells, 15
Byron, 239, 247, 295
Cachexia, after extirpation of thyroid gland, 34
Caeca, of vertebrates, 60 et seq.
Cagliostro, elixir of life, 138
Calomel, as an intestinal antiseptic, 158
and syphilis, 146
Camphor, as an intestinal antiseptic, 156
Canary Islands, 96
Cancalon, Dr., on instinct of death, 128, 129
Cancer, and cleanliness, 144
Candolle, A. de, on cypresses of Mexico, 98
Page 264
on age of trees, 99
Cantacuzène, M., on blood serums, 148
Capital punishment, 305
Carlyle, on “Werther,” 265
Castration, effects of, 272
Cats, longevity of, 56
Cattle, longevity of, 55
Celibacy, and education of women, 224
Cell reproduction, rate of, 16
Centenarians, 4, 5, 86, 88, 89, 175, 176
Charcot, on sterilised food, 162, 163
on hysteria, 202
Charron, M., on putrefactive poisons, 69
Chemin, M., on centenarians, 88, 89
Chimpanzee, 185, 192, 193
China, Emperor Chi-Hoang-Ti and immortality, 137
Chopin, a degenerate, 134
Christian morality, 321, 330
Chromophags, action of, 25
Claparède, E., on theory of sleep, 123, 124, 125
Cleanliness, and increase of life, 144
Clergymen, increasing duration of life of, 142
Coffee and longevity, 92
Cohausen, on gerokomy, 137
Cohendy, Dr. M., on Bulgarian bacillus, 178
on intestinal flora, 78, 79
on intestinal putrefaction, 168
on thymol as a disinfectant, 157
Collectivism, 228
Colon, absorption in, 64
Constipation, evil results of, 67, 68, 69
Cooking, effect of, on microbes in food, 162
Copenhagen, suicide in, 3
Coral polyps, 216
Cornaro, 91
Cantacuzène, M., on blood serums, 148
Capital punishment, 305
Carlyle, on “Werther,” 265
Castration, effects of, 272
Cats, longevity of, 56
Cattle, longevity of, 55
Celibacy, and education of women, 224
Cell reproduction, rate of, 16
Centenarians, 4, 5, 86, 88, 89, 175, 176
Charcot, on sterilised food, 162, 163
on hysteria, 202
Charron, M., on putrefactive poisons, 69
Chemin, M., on centenarians, 88, 89
Chimpanzee, 185, 192, 193
China, Emperor Chi-Hoang-Ti and immortality, 137
Chopin, a degenerate, 134
Christian morality, 321, 330
Chromophags, action of, 25
Claparède, E., on theory of sleep, 123, 124, 125
Cleanliness, and increase of life, 144
Clergymen, increasing duration of life of, 142
Coffee and longevity, 92
Cohausen, on gerokomy, 137
Cohendy, Dr. M., on Bulgarian bacillus, 178
on intestinal flora, 78, 79
on intestinal putrefaction, 168
on thymol as a disinfectant, 157
Collectivism, 228
Colon, absorption in, 64
Constipation, evil results of, 67, 68, 69
Cooking, effect of, on microbes in food, 162
Copenhagen, suicide in, 3
Coral polyps, 216
Cornaro, 91
Page 265
Cossacks, and biennial rye, 100
Cretinism, compared with senility, 32
Crœsus, 197
Cryptogams, life of, 99
Cursorial birds, intestinal flora of, 76
Cypress, age of, 98
Czerny, M., on absorption in colon, 64
on cancer, 144
D’Alton, and Goethe, 280
Dalyell, old anemone of, 48
Dana, on monstrilla, 115
Darwin, on fear, 195
David, King, 136
Death, instinct of, 128, 129
natural, 94, 109, 119
sensations at approach of, 126, 127, 130
Debreuil, Ch., on defecation in rheas, 76
on excreta of antelopes, 66
Degenerates, famous, 134
Delage, Yves, criticism of instinct of death, 128
on function of large intestines, 65, 66
Demange, M., on old age, 119
Denmark, suicide in, 3, 237
Descent of man, 184
Despotism, and socialism, 230
de Vries, H., on duration of life of plants, 104
on prolongation of life of plants, 100
on natural death in plants, 101
Diet and longevity, 46
Digestive system and senility, 59
Diplogaster, mother killed by larvæ, 111
Diphtheria, 323
Disease, and shortening of life, 145 et seq.
Doctors, lady, 225
Cretinism, compared with senility, 32
Crœsus, 197
Cryptogams, life of, 99
Cursorial birds, intestinal flora of, 76
Cypress, age of, 98
Czerny, M., on absorption in colon, 64
on cancer, 144
D’Alton, and Goethe, 280
Dalyell, old anemone of, 48
Dana, on monstrilla, 115
Darwin, on fear, 195
David, King, 136
Death, instinct of, 128, 129
natural, 94, 109, 119
sensations at approach of, 126, 127, 130
Debreuil, Ch., on defecation in rheas, 76
on excreta of antelopes, 66
Degenerates, famous, 134
Delage, Yves, criticism of instinct of death, 128
on function of large intestines, 65, 66
Demange, M., on old age, 119
Denmark, suicide in, 3, 237
Descent of man, 184
Despotism, and socialism, 230
de Vries, H., on duration of life of plants, 104
on prolongation of life of plants, 100
on natural death in plants, 101
Diet and longevity, 46
Digestive system and senility, 59
Diplogaster, mother killed by larvæ, 111
Diphtheria, 323
Disease, and shortening of life, 145 et seq.
Doctors, lady, 225
Page 266
Dodo, 213
Dogs, longevity of, 55
Dostoiewsky, quotation from, 2
Doyen, M., operation on double monsters, 216
Dragon-tree, of Orotava, 96, 97, 98
Drakenberg, age of, 87
Drunkenness, and morality, 317
Dryopithecus, 334
Ducks, old, 11
Duering, on pessimism, 248
Durand-Fardel, M., on atheroma, 30
Duration of life, in animals, 39 et seq., 133
Eagles, intestinal flora of, 82
Ecclesiastes, quotation from, 233
Eckermann, narrative of Goethe’s last years, 271, 274, 279
Egoism, 227, 306, 331
Egyptian milk, 105
Eimer, Th., on intestines of bats &c., 62, 63
Einhorn, Dr., on bradyfagy, 159
Elective Affinities, Goethe’s, 273
Elephants, 9, 54, 83, 197
Eliot, George, 322
Elixir vitæ, 138
Ellenberger, on digestion in horse, 78
Enriquez, on infusoria, 13
Ephemeridæ, duration of life of, 113, 118
Epicureans, 309
Epiphyses of bones, as giving period of growth, 40
Ermenghem, van, on botulism, 70
Errera, Dr., on cause of sleep, 121
Eudoxia, 218
Ewald, on absorption in colon, 64
Exhaustion, as cause of plant death, 104, 107
Extinction of animals, 213
Dogs, longevity of, 55
Dostoiewsky, quotation from, 2
Doyen, M., operation on double monsters, 216
Dragon-tree, of Orotava, 96, 97, 98
Drakenberg, age of, 87
Drunkenness, and morality, 317
Dryopithecus, 334
Ducks, old, 11
Duering, on pessimism, 248
Durand-Fardel, M., on atheroma, 30
Duration of life, in animals, 39 et seq., 133
Eagles, intestinal flora of, 82
Ecclesiastes, quotation from, 233
Eckermann, narrative of Goethe’s last years, 271, 274, 279
Egoism, 227, 306, 331
Egyptian milk, 105
Eimer, Th., on intestines of bats &c., 62, 63
Einhorn, Dr., on bradyfagy, 159
Elective Affinities, Goethe’s, 273
Elephants, 9, 54, 83, 197
Eliot, George, 322
Elixir vitæ, 138
Ellenberger, on digestion in horse, 78
Enriquez, on infusoria, 13
Ephemeridæ, duration of life of, 113, 118
Epicureans, 309
Epiphyses of bones, as giving period of growth, 40
Ermenghem, van, on botulism, 70
Errera, Dr., on cause of sleep, 121
Eudoxia, 218
Ewald, on absorption in colon, 64
Exhaustion, as cause of plant death, 104, 107
Extinction of animals, 213
Page 267
Eye, in old age, 36
Fatigue, Weichardt on cause of, 123
“Faust” and Goethe, 283 et seq.
Favorsky, Dr., on botulism, 82
Fear, analysis of, 194
Fecundity and duration of life, 43, 44, 45, 57, 58
Feinkind, case of somnambulism quoted from, 204
Femininist movement, 224
Fermentation, cause of, 105
Fertility and longevity, 44, 45
Fish, longevity of, 50
Flamans, M., 5
Fletcher, on chewing, 159
Flora, of intestines, poisonous effect of, 70, 73 et seq., 151 et seq.
Flourens, on duration of life, 40, 84
Foà, on use of soured milk in Africa, 172
Food, evil effects of putrefaction in, 163
Fouard, M., on soured milk, 180
Fürbbinger, on Brown-Séquard’s emulsions, 139
Gautier, A., on leucomaines, 121
Gegenbaur, on intestinal tract, 60, 61
Genius and sexual power, 272
Gerokomy, 136
Gessner, on age of pike, 50
Gestation and longevity, 42
Giacomini, on Harderian gland, 189
Gibbons, 192, 198
Goebel, on duration of life of prothalli, 101, 102
Goethe, 260-300, 305
“Goose-skin,” 196
Gorilla, strength of, 192
Griesbach, on sense of touch in blind, 257
Grigoroff, on Bulgarian yahourth, 175, 178
Grindon, on age of sheep, 55
Fatigue, Weichardt on cause of, 123
“Faust” and Goethe, 283 et seq.
Favorsky, Dr., on botulism, 82
Fear, analysis of, 194
Fecundity and duration of life, 43, 44, 45, 57, 58
Feinkind, case of somnambulism quoted from, 204
Femininist movement, 224
Fermentation, cause of, 105
Fertility and longevity, 44, 45
Fish, longevity of, 50
Flamans, M., 5
Fletcher, on chewing, 159
Flora, of intestines, poisonous effect of, 70, 73 et seq., 151 et seq.
Flourens, on duration of life, 40, 84
Foà, on use of soured milk in Africa, 172
Food, evil effects of putrefaction in, 163
Fouard, M., on soured milk, 180
Fürbbinger, on Brown-Séquard’s emulsions, 139
Gautier, A., on leucomaines, 121
Gegenbaur, on intestinal tract, 60, 61
Genius and sexual power, 272
Gerokomy, 136
Gessner, on age of pike, 50
Gestation and longevity, 42
Giacomini, on Harderian gland, 189
Gibbons, 192, 198
Goebel, on duration of life of prothalli, 101, 102
Goethe, 260-300, 305
“Goose-skin,” 196
Gorilla, strength of, 192
Griesbach, on sense of touch in blind, 257
Grigoroff, on Bulgarian yahourth, 175, 178
Grindon, on age of sheep, 55
Page 268
Guinon, Dr., on a case of hysteria, 203
Gurney, J. H., on longevity of birds, 51, 79
Haeckel, on medical selection, 134
Haffkine, M., 112
Hair, 17, 18
Halictus, a solitary bee, 226
Haller, on human longevity, 84, 132
Hamlet, quotation from, 239
Hannibal, his elephants swim the Rhone, 197
Harderian gland, 189
Hartmann, 235, 241
Harvey, on Parr, 87
Hayem, Prof., on use of lactic acid, 169, 173
Heart, diseases of, and syphilis, 145, 146
Hegesias, and suicide, 234
Heile, on absorption in colon, 64
Heim, on microbes in milk, 176
Heim, Prof., on Alpine accidents, 130
Heine, 236, 240
Hermippus, and gerokomy, 137
Herter, Dr., experiments on lactic acid in dogs, 167
Hertwig, R., on Actinosphærium, 14
Hildebrand, on duration of life of plants, 101, 102
Hippocrates, 132
Hofmeister, on digestion in horse, 74
Honey-ant, 222
Horse, cæcum, 62
digestion, 74
use of serum, 147
Horsley, Sir V., on effects of extirpation of thyroid, 34
Horst, on a somnambulistic soldier, 203
Hufeland, quotation from “Macrobiotique,” 137
Hugo, V., and sexuality, 277
Humboldt, on dragon-tree of Orotava, 96
Gurney, J. H., on longevity of birds, 51, 79
Haeckel, on medical selection, 134
Haffkine, M., 112
Hair, 17, 18
Halictus, a solitary bee, 226
Haller, on human longevity, 84, 132
Hamlet, quotation from, 239
Hannibal, his elephants swim the Rhone, 197
Harderian gland, 189
Hartmann, 235, 241
Harvey, on Parr, 87
Hayem, Prof., on use of lactic acid, 169, 173
Heart, diseases of, and syphilis, 145, 146
Hegesias, and suicide, 234
Heile, on absorption in colon, 64
Heim, on microbes in milk, 176
Heim, Prof., on Alpine accidents, 130
Heine, 236, 240
Hermippus, and gerokomy, 137
Herter, Dr., experiments on lactic acid in dogs, 167
Hertwig, R., on Actinosphærium, 14
Hildebrand, on duration of life of plants, 101, 102
Hippocrates, 132
Hofmeister, on digestion in horse, 74
Honey-ant, 222
Horse, cæcum, 62
digestion, 74
use of serum, 147
Horsley, Sir V., on effects of extirpation of thyroid, 34
Horst, on a somnambulistic soldier, 203
Hufeland, quotation from “Macrobiotique,” 137
Hugo, V., and sexuality, 277
Humboldt, on dragon-tree of Orotava, 96
Page 269
on longevity of parrots, 52
Hunger, compared with sleep, 125
Huxley, on character of Orang, 193
Hygiene, and old age, 141, 142, 143
Hypnotism, of a crowd on individuals, 210
Hysteria, analysis of, 200 et seq.
in monkeys, 208
Ibsen, and sexuality, 277
Idleness, 316
Immortality, Chinese beverage for, 137, 138
Incubation, duration of, compared with longevity, 41, 42
India, government of, and age of elephants, 54
Individualism, 316
Individuality, 212 et seq.
Infusoria, death of, 95
senescence of, 13
Insects, ages of, 49
social, 220 et seq.
Instinct, of death, 128, 129
maternal, 319, 320, 329
social, 306
Intestine, large, 59, 65, 67, 151
Intuitive theory of morality, 305
Jacobson, organ of, 187
Javal, Dr., on characters of the blind, 257, 259
Jenner, effect of vaccination on mortality rate, 144
Josué, M., artificial production of atheroma, 32
Jousset, Dr., on difference between man and apes, 184
Kant, 309, 310
Kautsky, on socialism, 229, 230
Kentigern, age of, 87
Kephir, 171, 172, 173
Khoury, M., on ferment of Egyptian milk, 105
Hunger, compared with sleep, 125
Huxley, on character of Orang, 193
Hygiene, and old age, 141, 142, 143
Hypnotism, of a crowd on individuals, 210
Hysteria, analysis of, 200 et seq.
in monkeys, 208
Ibsen, and sexuality, 277
Idleness, 316
Immortality, Chinese beverage for, 137, 138
Incubation, duration of, compared with longevity, 41, 42
India, government of, and age of elephants, 54
Individualism, 316
Individuality, 212 et seq.
Infusoria, death of, 95
senescence of, 13
Insects, ages of, 49
social, 220 et seq.
Instinct, of death, 128, 129
maternal, 319, 320, 329
social, 306
Intestine, large, 59, 65, 67, 151
Intuitive theory of morality, 305
Jacobson, organ of, 187
Javal, Dr., on characters of the blind, 257, 259
Jenner, effect of vaccination on mortality rate, 144
Josué, M., artificial production of atheroma, 32
Jousset, Dr., on difference between man and apes, 184
Kant, 309, 310
Kautsky, on socialism, 229, 230
Kentigern, age of, 87
Kephir, 171, 172, 173
Khoury, M., on ferment of Egyptian milk, 105
Page 270
Kocher, Dr., on effects of extirpation of thyroid gland, 33
Kocher, Prof., case of removal of large intestine, 152, 153
Kölliker, on degeneration of muscles, 27
Koppenfels, on character of gorilla, 194
Koumiss, 172
Kowalevsky, Sophie, 225
Kowalevsky, analysis of pessimism, 241, 255
Kukula, experiments on intestinal poisons, 69, 70
Kwass, 166
Lactic bacilli, and putrefaction in intestine, 168
Laignel-Lavastine, M., criticism of neuronophagy, 20
Lankester, Sir E. Ray, on longevity, 12, 56
Lao-Tsé, and immortality, 137
Laud, Archbishop, old tortoise of, 51
Lautschenberger, on absorption in colon, 64
Lavater, Goethe’s letter to, 268
Laws aiding the aged, 3, 4
“Leben,” Egyptian, 105, 171, 177, 178
Le Bon, G., on hysteria in crowds, 209
Lenau, M., 236
Lenthéric, on elephants swimming, 197
Leopardi, G., pessimistic poet, 235, 236, 247
Le Play, M., on putrefactive poisons, 69
Léri, M., on senile brain, 20
Lermontoff, 236
Leucomaines, as cause of sleep, 121
Levaillant, on longevity of parrots, 52
Lewes, G. H., on Goethe, 273, 290, 292, 298
Lexis, on duration of human life, 85
Life, duration of, in animals, 39 et seq.
Life, prolongation of human, 132, et seq.
“sense” of, 260
Lima, Dr., on use of soured milk in Africa, 172, 174
Lloyd, M., old anemone of, 47
Kocher, Prof., case of removal of large intestine, 152, 153
Kölliker, on degeneration of muscles, 27
Koppenfels, on character of gorilla, 194
Koumiss, 172
Kowalevsky, Sophie, 225
Kowalevsky, analysis of pessimism, 241, 255
Kukula, experiments on intestinal poisons, 69, 70
Kwass, 166
Lactic bacilli, and putrefaction in intestine, 168
Laignel-Lavastine, M., criticism of neuronophagy, 20
Lankester, Sir E. Ray, on longevity, 12, 56
Lao-Tsé, and immortality, 137
Laud, Archbishop, old tortoise of, 51
Lautschenberger, on absorption in colon, 64
Lavater, Goethe’s letter to, 268
Laws aiding the aged, 3, 4
“Leben,” Egyptian, 105, 171, 177, 178
Le Bon, G., on hysteria in crowds, 209
Lenau, M., 236
Lenthéric, on elephants swimming, 197
Leopardi, G., pessimistic poet, 235, 236, 247
Le Play, M., on putrefactive poisons, 69
Léri, M., on senile brain, 20
Lermontoff, 236
Leucomaines, as cause of sleep, 121
Levaillant, on longevity of parrots, 52
Lewes, G. H., on Goethe, 273, 290, 292, 298
Lexis, on duration of human life, 85
Life, duration of, in animals, 39 et seq.
Life, prolongation of human, 132, et seq.
“sense” of, 260
Lima, Dr., on use of soured milk in Africa, 172, 174
Lloyd, M., old anemone of, 47
Page 271
Loewenberg, Dr., on Mde. Robineau, 7
London Zoological Gardens, 51, 81
Longevity, in animal kingdom, 47 et seq.
human, 84 et seq.
rules for, 141
in sexes, 44
theories of, 39
Lorand, Dr., on ductless glands, 32
Love, Goethe and, 272
Luxury, 321
Macfadyen, Nencki and Mde. Sieber, on digestion, 153, 161
Macrophags, 25, 147
Mailaender, 235, 255
Malaquin, M., on Monstrilla, 116, 117
Male rotifers, death of, 114, 115
Malthus, theory of, 214
Mammals, longevity of, 53
Mammary glands, in males, 186
Man, compared with apes, 184, 185
natural death of, 119 et seq.
longevity of, 84 et seq.
Manouélian, M., on neuronophagy, 21, 22
Marinesco, M., on neuronophogs, 19
Marrow of the bones, in old age, 37
Marsiliaceæ, duration of life of prothallus, 99
Martin, on Gibbons, 192
Massart, on cause of death in plants, 102, 109
Massol, Prof., 178
Mastication, and intestinal putrefaction, 160
Matchinsky, M., on atrophy of ovary, 26
Maternal instinct, 319, 320
Mauclaire, M., operations on large intestine, 153, 154, 155
Maumus, M., on digestion in cæca, 61
Mauritius, giant tortoise from, 12
London Zoological Gardens, 51, 81
Longevity, in animal kingdom, 47 et seq.
human, 84 et seq.
rules for, 141
in sexes, 44
theories of, 39
Lorand, Dr., on ductless glands, 32
Love, Goethe and, 272
Luxury, 321
Macfadyen, Nencki and Mde. Sieber, on digestion, 153, 161
Macrophags, 25, 147
Mailaender, 235, 255
Malaquin, M., on Monstrilla, 116, 117
Male rotifers, death of, 114, 115
Malthus, theory of, 214
Mammals, longevity of, 53
Mammary glands, in males, 186
Man, compared with apes, 184, 185
natural death of, 119 et seq.
longevity of, 84 et seq.
Manouélian, M., on neuronophagy, 21, 22
Marinesco, M., on neuronophogs, 19
Marrow of the bones, in old age, 37
Marsiliaceæ, duration of life of prothallus, 99
Martin, on Gibbons, 192
Massart, on cause of death in plants, 102, 109
Massol, Prof., 178
Mastication, and intestinal putrefaction, 160
Matchinsky, M., on atrophy of ovary, 26
Maternal instinct, 319, 320
Mauclaire, M., operations on large intestine, 153, 154, 155
Maumus, M., on digestion in cæca, 61
Mauritius, giant tortoise from, 12
Page 272
Maupas, M., on infusoria, 13
Maya, 178
Mayers, on Chinese elixir, 138
Meconium, appearance of microbes in, 161
Medical selection, 134
Mesnet and Mottet, Drs., cases of hysteria, 203
Mice, duration of life, 41, 43, 56
Michaelis, on muscles of monkeys, 185
Microbes, as cause of senility, 73
in food, 162, 163
passage through intestinal walls, 71
Middlemarch, G. Eliot’s, 322
Milk, importance of boiling, 177, 178
microbes of disease in, 177
putrefaction and fermentation of, 167
use of soured milk, 181, 182
Mill, J. S., 323
Milne-Edwards, H., on laws of duration of life, 42
Minot, Prof., on cause of old age, 16
Moa, 213
Moebius, on Goethe, 271
on Schopenhauer, 255
Molluscs, ages of, 48
Mongols, hair in old, 17
Monkeys, longevity of, 83
Monsters, double, 216
Monstrilla, life-history of, 115, 116, 117
Montefiore, Sir M., 91
Morality, Christian, 321
definitions of, 303
Kantian, 309, 310, 311, 312
science and, 301 et seq.
Mortality rates of old persons, 142, 143
Moses, use of soured milk, 171
Mosso, on fear, 194, 196
Maya, 178
Mayers, on Chinese elixir, 138
Meconium, appearance of microbes in, 161
Medical selection, 134
Mesnet and Mottet, Drs., cases of hysteria, 203
Mice, duration of life, 41, 43, 56
Michaelis, on muscles of monkeys, 185
Microbes, as cause of senility, 73
in food, 162, 163
passage through intestinal walls, 71
Middlemarch, G. Eliot’s, 322
Milk, importance of boiling, 177, 178
microbes of disease in, 177
putrefaction and fermentation of, 167
use of soured milk, 181, 182
Mill, J. S., 323
Milne-Edwards, H., on laws of duration of life, 42
Minot, Prof., on cause of old age, 16
Moa, 213
Moebius, on Goethe, 271
on Schopenhauer, 255
Molluscs, ages of, 48
Mongols, hair in old, 17
Monkeys, longevity of, 83
Monsters, double, 216
Monstrilla, life-history of, 115, 116, 117
Montefiore, Sir M., 91
Morality, Christian, 321
definitions of, 303
Kantian, 309, 310, 311, 312
science and, 301 et seq.
Mortality rates of old persons, 142, 143
Moses, use of soured milk, 171
Mosso, on fear, 194, 196
Page 273
Muscles, degeneration of, 9, 26, 27
Myxomycetes, 215
Naegeli, on age of trees, 99
Nails, growth of, in the old, 18
Naphthaline, as an intestinal antiseptic, 156
Nature, human, 325
Nausenne, Mde., cause of longevity, 141
Negroes, longevity of, 88
Neisser, Prof., on protection against syphilis, 146
Nematodes, death of, 111
Nemertines, life-history of Pilidium of, 109 et seq.
Nencki and Sieber, on digestion, 153, 161, 169
Neuronophags, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24
Nicotine, use of in experimental production of atheroma, 32
Nietzsche, criticism of Socialism, 230
Nogueira, M., on use of soured milk in Africa, 172, 174
Obstacles, sense of, 258
Old age, Goethe and, 279 et seq.
Olympian, Goethe as an, 269
Optimism, foundation of, 256
Goethe’s transformation to, 269, 270 et seq.
Orang-outan, 185, 193
Orotava, dragon-tree of, 96
Orstein, Dr., on centenarians in Greece, 90
Orthobiosis, 212, 325 et seq.
Ossetes, use of soured milk, 173
Osteoclasts, 30
Ostrich, defecation of, 76
Oustalet, M., on longevity of vertebrates, 46
Ovary, atrophy of, 26
Owls, intestinal flora of, 83
Ownership, collective, 229, 230
Parodi, on old age, 332
Myxomycetes, 215
Naegeli, on age of trees, 99
Nails, growth of, in the old, 18
Naphthaline, as an intestinal antiseptic, 156
Nature, human, 325
Nausenne, Mde., cause of longevity, 141
Negroes, longevity of, 88
Neisser, Prof., on protection against syphilis, 146
Nematodes, death of, 111
Nemertines, life-history of Pilidium of, 109 et seq.
Nencki and Sieber, on digestion, 153, 161, 169
Neuronophags, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24
Nicotine, use of in experimental production of atheroma, 32
Nietzsche, criticism of Socialism, 230
Nogueira, M., on use of soured milk in Africa, 172, 174
Obstacles, sense of, 258
Old age, Goethe and, 279 et seq.
Olympian, Goethe as an, 269
Optimism, foundation of, 256
Goethe’s transformation to, 269, 270 et seq.
Orang-outan, 185, 193
Orotava, dragon-tree of, 96
Orstein, Dr., on centenarians in Greece, 90
Orthobiosis, 212, 325 et seq.
Ossetes, use of soured milk, 173
Osteoclasts, 30
Ostrich, defecation of, 76
Oustalet, M., on longevity of vertebrates, 46
Ovary, atrophy of, 26
Owls, intestinal flora of, 83
Ownership, collective, 229, 230
Parodi, on old age, 332
Page 274
Parr, Thomas, 87
Parrots, duration of life, 41
scanty intestinal flora of, 79
Pasquier, Dr. du, on constipation, 67
Pasteur, discovery of lactic microbe, 105, 167
Paulsen, criticism of Kant, 314
Pensions, old age, 3, 4, 133
Pessimism, 129, 233, 234, 239, 241, 249, 266
Pessimist, study of life-history of a, 249 et seq.
Pflüger, on longevity, 93
Phagocytes, 18, 19
Phagocytosis, examples of, 25, 37
Phalansteries, 229
Pilidium, 109 et seq.
Pitres, M., hysteric patients of, 200
Plague, 323
Plants, death of, 99, 103
Plasmodia, of Myxomycetes, 215, 216
Pleurotrocha haffkini, 112, 113
Pochon, Dr., experiments on use of lactic bacilli, 169
Poehl, Dr., on spermine, 139, 140
Pohl, Dr., on growth of hair, 17, 18
Ponogenes, as cause of sleep, 120
Potatoes, improved by Burbank, 326
Poushkin, 236
Predestination, and plants, 103
Preyer, Dr., on Ponogenes, 120
Prichard, on longevity of negroes, 88
Productivity compared with fecundity, 57, 58
Prostokwacha, 172, 176
Prolongation of life, 132 et seq.
Prothalli, life of, 99
Psychids, death of, 117
Ptolemy, fear of Hegesias’ philosophy, 235
Punishment, capital, 305
Parrots, duration of life, 41
scanty intestinal flora of, 79
Pasquier, Dr. du, on constipation, 67
Pasteur, discovery of lactic microbe, 105, 167
Paulsen, criticism of Kant, 314
Pensions, old age, 3, 4, 133
Pessimism, 129, 233, 234, 239, 241, 249, 266
Pessimist, study of life-history of a, 249 et seq.
Pflüger, on longevity, 93
Phagocytes, 18, 19
Phagocytosis, examples of, 25, 37
Phalansteries, 229
Pilidium, 109 et seq.
Pitres, M., hysteric patients of, 200
Plague, 323
Plants, death of, 99, 103
Plasmodia, of Myxomycetes, 215, 216
Pleurotrocha haffkini, 112, 113
Pochon, Dr., experiments on use of lactic bacilli, 169
Poehl, Dr., on spermine, 139, 140
Pohl, Dr., on growth of hair, 17, 18
Ponogenes, as cause of sleep, 120
Potatoes, improved by Burbank, 326
Poushkin, 236
Predestination, and plants, 103
Preyer, Dr., on Ponogenes, 120
Prichard, on longevity of negroes, 88
Productivity compared with fecundity, 57, 58
Prostokwacha, 172, 176
Prolongation of life, 132 et seq.
Prothalli, life of, 99
Psychids, death of, 117
Ptolemy, fear of Hegesias’ philosophy, 235
Punishment, capital, 305
Page 275
Purgatives, use of, in intestinal putrefaction, 157
Putrefaction, intestinal, 151 et seq., 161, 163, 164
Quételet, on stature of the aged, 9
Rabbit, fecundity of, 58
Ravens, absence of putrefaction in intestines of, 75
Reagents, action of, in distorting tissues, 20
Renouvier, C., on his own death, 127
Reproduction, organs of, rudiments in, 189
Reptiles, longevity of, 50
Rhea, cæca of, 60, 77
Rhinoceros, longevity of, 54
Rhytina, 213
Riley, James, on food of Arabs, 174
Rimpau, on cultivation of rye, 326, 328
Rist and Khoury, on milk, 178
Rist, M., on ferment of Egyptian milk, 105
Rivière, M., on defecation in ostriches, 76, 78, 79
Robineau, Mde., 5, 6, 7, 8, 128, 159
“Roman Elegies,” Goethe’s, 268, 273
Rotifera, duration of life, 39
death of, 112
Roux, anti-syphilitic ointment, 146
Rovighi, on Kephir, 173
Rudimentary organs, 185 et seq.
Rye, duration of life of, 100
Rimpau’s improvement of, 326
Salpétrière, hysterical patients at, 201
old women in the, 4, 5
Sand, M., on senile brain, 20
Sargent, on age of Sequoia, 98
Sauer-kraut, 165, 171
Sauvage, M., on atheroma, 30
Savage, on character of anthropoids, 193
Putrefaction, intestinal, 151 et seq., 161, 163, 164
Quételet, on stature of the aged, 9
Rabbit, fecundity of, 58
Ravens, absence of putrefaction in intestines of, 75
Reagents, action of, in distorting tissues, 20
Renouvier, C., on his own death, 127
Reproduction, organs of, rudiments in, 189
Reptiles, longevity of, 50
Rhea, cæca of, 60, 77
Rhinoceros, longevity of, 54
Rhytina, 213
Riley, James, on food of Arabs, 174
Rimpau, on cultivation of rye, 326, 328
Rist and Khoury, on milk, 178
Rist, M., on ferment of Egyptian milk, 105
Rivière, M., on defecation in ostriches, 76, 78, 79
Robineau, Mde., 5, 6, 7, 8, 128, 159
“Roman Elegies,” Goethe’s, 268, 273
Rotifera, duration of life, 39
death of, 112
Roux, anti-syphilitic ointment, 146
Rovighi, on Kephir, 173
Rudimentary organs, 185 et seq.
Rye, duration of life of, 100
Rimpau’s improvement of, 326
Salpétrière, hysterical patients at, 201
old women in the, 4, 5
Sand, M., on senile brain, 20
Sargent, on age of Sequoia, 98
Sauer-kraut, 165, 171
Sauvage, M., on atheroma, 30
Savage, on character of anthropoids, 193
Page 276
Saxe-Weimar, Grand Duke of, and Goethe, 274
Schaudinn, spirillum of syphilis, 31
Schiller, Goethe on, 271
Schiller, on moral conduct, 310
Schlanstedt, rye of, 326
Schmidt, on microbes in constipation, 70
Schopenhauer, 235, 247, 255, 277, 330
Schumann, a degenerate, 134
Science, and morality, 301 et seq.
Sclerosis, in the aged, 31
Sea-anemones, longevity of, 47, 48
Sea-cow, 213
Selection, medical, 134
Seneca, 132, 235
Senescence, Brown-Séquard’s specific against, 139
mechanism of, 25
phagocytosis as cause of, 35
Senility, characters of, 8, 14
and digestive system, 59
theories of causation of, 15 et seq.
Sensation, analysis of, with regard to pain and pleasure, 243
Sense of life, 26
of obstacles, 258
Sense, organs of, rudimentary structures in, 186, 187
“Sermon on the Mount,” 321
Serums, cytotoxic, 147, 148, 149
Servants, care of, 321
Sex, and longevity, 57
Sexuality, Goethe and, 273 et seq.
and old age, 276
moral problems of, 305
Sexual organs, abnormalities of, 224
Sexual power and genius, 272
Shakespeare, quotations, 239, 307
Sheep, digestion of, 74
Schaudinn, spirillum of syphilis, 31
Schiller, Goethe on, 271
Schiller, on moral conduct, 310
Schlanstedt, rye of, 326
Schmidt, on microbes in constipation, 70
Schopenhauer, 235, 247, 255, 277, 330
Schumann, a degenerate, 134
Science, and morality, 301 et seq.
Sclerosis, in the aged, 31
Sea-anemones, longevity of, 47, 48
Sea-cow, 213
Selection, medical, 134
Seneca, 132, 235
Senescence, Brown-Séquard’s specific against, 139
mechanism of, 25
phagocytosis as cause of, 35
Senility, characters of, 8, 14
and digestive system, 59
theories of causation of, 15 et seq.
Sensation, analysis of, with regard to pain and pleasure, 243
Sense of life, 26
of obstacles, 258
Sense, organs of, rudimentary structures in, 186, 187
“Sermon on the Mount,” 321
Serums, cytotoxic, 147, 148, 149
Servants, care of, 321
Sex, and longevity, 57
Sexuality, Goethe and, 273 et seq.
and old age, 276
moral problems of, 305
Sexual organs, abnormalities of, 224
Sexual power and genius, 272
Shakespeare, quotations, 239, 307
Sheep, digestion of, 74
Page 277
longevity, 55
Sight, rudimentary organs of, 189
Silos, 165
Siphonophora, 217
Skeleton, atrophy of, in the aged, 29
Sleep, and anæmia of brain, 122
and auto-intoxication, 120
and death compared, 125
Sleepiness, compared with hunger, 125
Sleeping-sickness, 124
Small-pox, and mortality rates, 144
Smell, analysis of, 243
Smell, rudimentary organs of sense of, 187
Smoking and longevity, 93
Social animals, 214, 220 et seq.
Socialism, 228, 229
Society v. the individual, 223 et seq.
Society, and morality, 306
Sociology, dependent on biology, 231
Sollier, Dr., on sensations at death, 130
Solomon, quotation from “Ecclesiastes,” 233
Somnambulism, analysis of, 200 et seq.
Sorbose, fermentation of, 106
Soured milk, use of, 171, 181, 182
Sparrow, fecundity of, 58
Spencer, Herbert, criticism of Kant, 310
criticism of socialism, 230
theory of morality, 316, 322, 324, 327
Spermatozoa, in old age, 35
Spermine, 139, 140
Stadelmann, on lactic acid in diabetes, 170
Statistics on suicide, 3
Stature, in old age, 8, 9
Stein, Mde. von, 267, 268, 273
Steller’s sea-cow, 213
Sight, rudimentary organs of, 189
Silos, 165
Siphonophora, 217
Skeleton, atrophy of, in the aged, 29
Sleep, and anæmia of brain, 122
and auto-intoxication, 120
and death compared, 125
Sleepiness, compared with hunger, 125
Sleeping-sickness, 124
Small-pox, and mortality rates, 144
Smell, analysis of, 243
Smell, rudimentary organs of sense of, 187
Smoking and longevity, 93
Social animals, 214, 220 et seq.
Socialism, 228, 229
Society v. the individual, 223 et seq.
Society, and morality, 306
Sociology, dependent on biology, 231
Sollier, Dr., on sensations at death, 130
Solomon, quotation from “Ecclesiastes,” 233
Somnambulism, analysis of, 200 et seq.
Sorbose, fermentation of, 106
Soured milk, use of, 171, 181, 182
Sparrow, fecundity of, 58
Spencer, Herbert, criticism of Kant, 310
criticism of socialism, 230
theory of morality, 316, 322, 324, 327
Spermatozoa, in old age, 35
Spermine, 139, 140
Stadelmann, on lactic acid in diabetes, 170
Statistics on suicide, 3
Stature, in old age, 8, 9
Stein, Mde. von, 267, 268, 273
Steller’s sea-cow, 213
Page 278
Stern, M., on disinfection of intestine, 156
Stohmann, on digestion in sheep, 74
Stoics, 309
Stragesco, Dr., on digestion in mammals, 63
Strasburger, on disinfection of intestine, 156, 157
on microbes in constipation, 70
Suicide, 3, 4, 237, 238, 265, 311
Sully-Prudhomme, definition of morality, 303
Suprarenal capsules, and atheroma, 32
Swimming, instinctive power of, 197, 198, 207
Syphilis, 31, 37, 145, 146, 302, 304
Switzerland, centenarians rare in, 91
Tanacol, as an intestinal antiseptic, 156
Taoism and immortality, 137, 138
Taste, analysis of, 243
Tavel, M., operations on large intestine, 152 et seq.
Taylor, Bayard, translation of Faust, 285
Termites, 220, 221
Testis, emulsion of, as used by Brown-Séquard, 139
resistance of, to senescence, 35
Thanatology, 131
Theophrastus, 132
Thymol, as an intestinal antiseptic, 157
Thyroid, effects of extirpation of, 32, 33, 34
Timon of Athens, quotation from, 307
Tissier, Dr., on Bacillus bifidus, 161
on use of lactic microbes, 181
Tissier, and Martelly, on putrid food, 164
Tobacco and longevity, 93
Tokarsky, on natural death, 126
Tolstoi, and death, 94
“Death of Ivan Ilyitch,” 318
Tortoise, 11, 12, 13, 51
Touch, sense of, in the blind, 257
Stohmann, on digestion in sheep, 74
Stoics, 309
Stragesco, Dr., on digestion in mammals, 63
Strasburger, on disinfection of intestine, 156, 157
on microbes in constipation, 70
Suicide, 3, 4, 237, 238, 265, 311
Sully-Prudhomme, definition of morality, 303
Suprarenal capsules, and atheroma, 32
Swimming, instinctive power of, 197, 198, 207
Syphilis, 31, 37, 145, 146, 302, 304
Switzerland, centenarians rare in, 91
Tanacol, as an intestinal antiseptic, 156
Taoism and immortality, 137, 138
Taste, analysis of, 243
Tavel, M., operations on large intestine, 152 et seq.
Taylor, Bayard, translation of Faust, 285
Termites, 220, 221
Testis, emulsion of, as used by Brown-Séquard, 139
resistance of, to senescence, 35
Thanatology, 131
Theophrastus, 132
Thymol, as an intestinal antiseptic, 157
Thyroid, effects of extirpation of, 32, 33, 34
Timon of Athens, quotation from, 307
Tissier, Dr., on Bacillus bifidus, 161
on use of lactic microbes, 181
Tissier, and Martelly, on putrid food, 164
Tobacco and longevity, 93
Tokarsky, on natural death, 126
Tolstoi, and death, 94
“Death of Ivan Ilyitch,” 318
Tortoise, 11, 12, 13, 51
Touch, sense of, in the blind, 257
Page 279
Troubat, M., on instinctive swimming, 198
Trees, age and death of, 96, 97, 98
Trypanosoma, 124
Unicellular organisms, death of, 95
Urine, analysis of, in a centenarian, 7
Utilitarianism, 305
Vacherot, criticism of Kant, 313
Varenetz, 172
Vascular glands, relation to old age, 33, 34
Verworn, Max, on death in infusoria, 95
Vinegar, in preservation of food, 165
Vivisection, 301
Voisin, M., criticism of neuronophagy, 20
Voltaire, 92, 235
Volz, on swimming power of gibbons, 198
Wales, Mr., quotation from Riley, 174
Weber, Dr., on regimen for old age, 140, 141
Weichardt, on cause of fatigue, 122, 123
Weinberg, Dr., on preparation of human serums, 150
on thyroid gland in aged, 33
Weiske, on digestion in sheep, 78
Weismann, A., on cause of old age, 15, 16
on death in infusoria, 95
on duration of life, 41, 43, 45, 51
“Weltschmerz,” in German poetry, 236
Werther, Goethe’s, 263, 267
Westergaard, statistics of mortality, 142, 144
Wiedersheim, on intestinal tract, 60
Wine, Goethe and, 271, 279
Wolff, J. H., Goethe’s friend, 271
Women, education, 224 et seq.
Yahourth, use in intestinal putrefaction, 168, 170, 175, 177, 178
Trees, age and death of, 96, 97, 98
Trypanosoma, 124
Unicellular organisms, death of, 95
Urine, analysis of, in a centenarian, 7
Utilitarianism, 305
Vacherot, criticism of Kant, 313
Varenetz, 172
Vascular glands, relation to old age, 33, 34
Verworn, Max, on death in infusoria, 95
Vinegar, in preservation of food, 165
Vivisection, 301
Voisin, M., criticism of neuronophagy, 20
Voltaire, 92, 235
Volz, on swimming power of gibbons, 198
Wales, Mr., quotation from Riley, 174
Weber, Dr., on regimen for old age, 140, 141
Weichardt, on cause of fatigue, 122, 123
Weinberg, Dr., on preparation of human serums, 150
on thyroid gland in aged, 33
Weiske, on digestion in sheep, 78
Weismann, A., on cause of old age, 15, 16
on death in infusoria, 95
on duration of life, 41, 43, 45, 51
“Weltschmerz,” in German poetry, 236
Werther, Goethe’s, 263, 267
Westergaard, statistics of mortality, 142, 144
Wiedersheim, on intestinal tract, 60
Wine, Goethe and, 271, 279
Wolff, J. H., Goethe’s friend, 271
Women, education, 224 et seq.
Yahourth, use in intestinal putrefaction, 168, 170, 175, 177, 178
Page 280
Yeast, conditions of growth, 106
Zeigan, Dr., on adrenaline, 122
Zell, Dr., on blind persons, 259
Zelter, Goethe’s friend, 265
Zola, “La Joie de Vivre,” 248
Zoological Gardens of London, 51, 81
Zortay, Pierre, age of, 87
Zeigan, Dr., on adrenaline, 122
Zell, Dr., on blind persons, 259
Zelter, Goethe’s friend, 265
Zola, “La Joie de Vivre,” 248
Zoological Gardens of London, 51, 81
Zortay, Pierre, age of, 87
Page 281
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