Physiological Researches on Life and Death

by Xavier Bichat

FOOTNOTES:

[1] The form adopted by Bichat, in this work, has been much blamed by some, and extravagantly praised by others. The blame and the praise appear to me to be equally misplaced. His object was to exhibit the various phenomena of life; the order in which this was to be done was a matter of indifference. If Bichat gave a preference to this form, it was because it was conformable to the nature of his mind; and he accomplished his task in a very happy manner. The division that he has adopted is not new, it may be found, with slight modifications, in writers of different periods, and even in Aristotle. Besides, it is not necessary in the sciences to attach a very great importance to classification. All these contrivances have been invented only to aid the memory; and the functions of living bodies are not so numerous, as to render it necessary in studying them to lean upon systematic divisions.

[2] The word life has been employed by physiologists in two different senses. With some, it means an imaginary being, the sole principle of all the functions which living bodies exhibit; with others, it means only the assemblage of these functions. It is in this last sense that Bichat employs it. This is what he means to say in the following sentence. Life is the assemblage of the functions which resist death. He is wrong only in allowing the idea of death to enter into it; for this idea necessarily supposes that of life. There is then really a bad circle in this definition; but in putting aside what is defective in the expression, it may be seen that Bichat considers life as a result, not as a cause.

Before and since the time of Bichat, a great number of definitions of life has been given, which are either false or incomplete. It should not be required of a definition, that it should give all the properties of the thing which it is designed to make known, this would be a description; but we have a right to expect that it should assign to this thing certain characters which belong to it alone, and thus distinguish it from every thing else.

Let us examine by this principle the definition adopted in a modern work. Life, it is said, is the assemblage of the phenomena which succeed each other, for a limited time, in an organized being. This is no doubt true of life; but, if it can also be applied to another state, it ceases to be a definition. An animal has just died; its organs from that moment are subject to the action of chemical affinities only; decomposition takes place, gases are disengaged, fluids flow out and new solid aggregates are formed. After a time every molecular motion ceases; there remains only a certain number of binary, ternary combinations, &c. Here then is an assemblage of phenomena taking place for a limited time in an organized body, and yet it is not life.

[3] This distinction of the two lives is bad, inasmuch as it tends to separate phenomena which have a very intimate connexion, which relate to a common object, and which are often produced by means in every respect similar. Why should I rank among the organs of animal life the muscular apparatus which carries the alimentary mass from the mouth into the oesophagus, and among those of the other life, that which takes it from the cardiac orifice to the anus? Is not the action of the first apparatus in relation with nutrition as well as the action of the last, and does not the muscular apparatus of the oesophagus act upon a body which is foreign to us, as well as that of the tongue and the pharynx? Do the motions of mastication differ in their object from those of which we have just spoken, and as to the means of execution, does not the muscular action still perform the principal part?

We might in the same way bring near each other the motions by means of which we seize our food. The action itself of the senses, which directs these motions, is, with nutrition, in a relation more remote, but not less necessary, and we see in the various classes of animals that their apparatus is modified according to the different kinds of nourishment. If the distinction of the two lives be wanting in justice, as to the object of the functions it separates, we shall soon see that the characters attached to the organs of one and the other do not establish this division in a more striking manner.

[4] This division between vegetables and animals is far from being so striking as is here supposed; these two classes of beings, so different when we examine them in the individuals endowed with a very complicated organization, approximate each other in a remarkable degree, when we descend to those species whose structure is most simple; it is even remarkable that the most constant character which distinguishes one from the other, is not found in the organs of animal life, but in those of vegetable or organic life. The senses are one after the other found wanting; for in an individual in whom we can discover no nervous system, there is no more reason to suppose the existence of the sense of touch as a sensation, than to suppose it in the sensitive plant, the dionæa muscipula, and other similar plants; we see only action and reaction. The motions of the arms of certain polypi no more suppose volition than the motion of the root which follows a wet sponge, or that of the branches which turn towards the light; the only very constant character is the absence or presence of a digestive cavity. To speak of an animal as a vegetable clothed with an external apparatus of organs of relation, is a more brilliant than profound view of the subject. Buisson, who, in his division of the physiological phenomena, avoids this inaccuracy, has himself fallen into error; he pretends that respiration belongs exclusively to animals; and that thus the division of Bichat was not only unfounded but also incomplete, since this function, which is neither of vegetation nor of relation, could be ranked under neither life. Buisson was not well informed; no doubt the respiration of vegetables does not exhibit the most apparent phenomena of the respiration of the mammalia, but every thing, which essentially constitutes the function, is found in the one as well as in the other; absorption of the atmospheric air, and the formation and exhalation of a new gas; the rest is only accidental and is not an appendage but in certain classes of animals. In some reptiles, though we find a particular organ for respiration, this organ is not indispensable; it may be removed, and the skin becomes the only respiratory organ; and when finally we come to consider animals with tracheæ, we see that the conformity becomes more and more evident.

[5] Bichat seems here to adopt the generally received opinion that it is the chyle which furnishes to the mammary gland the materials of which the milk is composed. We know not whence this opinion arises, if it be not from the gross resemblance which the chyle and milk often exhibit. This resemblance, if it were very great, would be a poor reason for admitting, without anatomical proof, so singular a fact; but it is very far from being perfect. The chyle in fact does not exhibit the milky appearance and the white opaque colour, only when the animal from whom it is taken, has fed upon substances containing fat; in all other cases, it is almost transparent; its odour and taste, under all circumstances, differ entirely from those of milk; if these two fluids are left to themselves, the milk remains a long time without coagulating, but the chyle almost immediately coagulates, and then separates into three parts. The solid portion soon exhibits cells, and an appearance of organization; nothing similar is seen in the coagulum of milk; the serum of the milk remains colourless when exposed to the simple contact of the air, that of the chyle assumes a rosy tint, often very vivid. Finally, if we examine the chemical composition of these two fluids, we shall find in them differences still more striking. (See for farther details, my Elements of Physiology, Vol. 2d.)

[CHAPTER II.]
GENERAL DIFFERENCES OF THE TWO LIVES WITH REGARD TO THE OUTWARD FORM OF THEIR RESPECTIVE ORGANS.

The organs of the animal life are symmetrical, those of the organic life irregular in their conformation; in this circumstance consists the most essential of their differences. Such character, however, to some animals, and among the fish, to the sole and turbot especially, is not applicable; but in man it is exactly traced, as well as in all the genera which are nearest to him in perfection. In them alone am I about to examine it.

I. Symmetry of the external forms of the animal life.[6]

Two globes in every respect the same, receive the impressions of light. Sounds and odours, have also their double analogous organ. A single membrane is affected to savours, but the median line is manifest upon it, and the two segments, which are indicated by it, are exactly similar. This line indeed is not every where to be seen in the skin, but it is every where implied. Nature, as it were, has forgotten to describe it, but from space to space she has laid down a number of points, which mark its passage. The cleft at the extremity of the nose, of the chin, and the middle of the lips, the umbilicus, the seam of the perineum, the projection of the spinous apophyses of the back, and the hollow at the posterior part of the neck are the principal points at which it is shewn.

The Nerves, which transmit the impressions received by the senses, are evidently assembled in symmetrical pairs.

The brain, the organ (on which the impressions of objects are received) is remarkable also for the regularity of its form. Its double parts are exactly alike, and even those which are single, are all of them symmetrically divided by the median line.

The Nerves again, which transmit to the agents of locomotion and of the voice, the volitions of the brain, the locomotive organs also, which are formed in a great degree of the muscular system, of the bony system, and its dependencies, these together with the larynx and its accessories, composing the double agents of volition, have all of them a regularity, a symmetry, which are invariable.

Such even is the truth of the character which I am now describing, that the muscles and the nerves immediately cease to be regular, as soon as they cease to appertain to the animal life. The heart, and the muscular fibres of the intestines are proofs of this assertion in the muscles; in the nerves, the great sympathetic, is an evidence of its truth.

We may conclude then from simple inspection, that Symmetry is the essential character of the organs of the animal life of man.

II. Irregularity of the exterior forms of the organic life.

If at present we pass to the viscera of the organic life, we shall perceive a character directly the contrary of the former. The stomach, the intestines, the spleen, the liver, &c. are all of them irregularly disposed.

In the system of the circulation, the heart and the large vessels, such as the upper divisions of the aorta, the vena azygos, the vena portæ, and the arteria innominata have no one trace of symmetry. In the vessels of the extremities continual varieties are also observed, and when they occur, it is particularly remarkable that their existence on one side in no way affects the other side of the body.

The apparatus of respiration appears indeed at first to be exactly regular; nevertheless, the bronchi are dissimilar in length, diameter, and direction; three lobes compose one of the lungs, two the other: between these organs also, there is a manifest difference of volume; the two divisions of the pulmonary artery resemble each other neither in their course, nor in their diameter; and the mediastinum is sensibly directed to the left. We shall thus perceive that symmetry is here apparent only, and that the common law has no exception.

The organs of exhalation and absorption, the serous membranes, the thoracic duct, the great right lymphatic vessel, and the secondary absorbents of all the parts have a distribution universally unequal and irregular.

In the glandular system also we see the crypts, or mucous follicles disseminated in a disorderly manner in every part; the pancreas, the liver, the salivary glands themselves, though at first sight more symmetrical, are not exactly submitted to the median line; added to this, the kidneys differ from each other in their situation, in the length and size of their artery and vein, and in their frequent varieties more especially.[7]

From considerations so numerous we are led to a result exactly the reverse of the preceding one; namely, that the especial attribute of the organs of the interior life is irregularity of exterior form.

III. Consequences resulting from the difference of exterior form in the organs of the two lives.

It follows from the preceding description, that the animal life is as it were double; that its phenomena performed as they are at the same time on the two sides of the body, compose a system in each of them independent of the opposite system; that there is a life to the right, a life to the left; that the one may exist, the other ceasing to do so, and that they are doubtless intended reciprocally to supply the place of each other.

The latter circumstance we may frequently observe in those morbid affections so common, where the animal sensibility and mobility are enfeebled, or annihilated on one side of the body, and capable of no affection whatever; where the man on one side is little more than the vegetable, while on the other he preserves his claim to the animal character. Undoubtedly those partial palsies, in which the median line, is the limit where the faculties of sensation and motion finish, and the origin from whence they begin can never be remarked so invariably in animals, which, like the oyster, have an irregular exterior.

On the contrary the organic life is a single system, in which every thing is connected and concatenated; where the functions on one side cannot be interrupted, and those on the other subsist. A diseased liver influences the state of the stomach; if the colon on one side cease to act, that upon the other side cannot continue in action: the same attack, which arrests the circulation in the right side of the heart, will annihilate it also in the left side of the heart. Hence it follows, the internal organs on one side being supposed to suspend their functions, that those on the other must remain inactive, and death ensue.

This assertion, however, is a general one; it is only applicable to the sum of the organic life, and not to its isolated phenomena. Some of them in fact are double, and their place may be supplied—the kidneys and lungs are of this description.

I shall not enquire into the cause of this remarkable difference, which in man, and those animals which approach him the nearest, distinguishes the organs of the two lives. I shall only observe, that it enters essentially into the nature of their phenomena, and that the perfection of the animal functions is so connected with the general symmetry observed in their respective organs, that every thing which troubles such symmetry, will more or less impair the functions.

It is from thence, no doubt, that proceeds this other difference of the two lives, namely, that nature very rarely varies the usual conformation of the organs of the animal life. Grimaud has made this observation, but has not shewn the principle on which it depends.

It is a fact, which cannot have escaped any one the least accustomed to dissection, that the spleen, the liver, the stomach, the kidneys, the salivary glands, and others of the internal life, are frequently various in form, size, position, and direction. Such in the vascular system are these varieties, that scarcely will any two subjects be found exactly alike under the scalpel of the anatomist: the organs of absorption, the lymphatic glands in particular, are rarely the same either in number or volume, neither do the mucous glands in any way affect a fixed and analogous situation.

And not only is each particular system subject to frequent aberrations, but the whole of the organs of the internal life are sometimes found in the inverse of the natural order. Of this I have lately seen an instance.

Let us now consider the organs of the animal life, the senses, the brain, the voluntary muscles, and the larynx: here every thing is exact, precise, and rigourously determined. In these there is scarcely ever seen a variety of conformation; if there do exist any, the functions are troubled, disturbed, or destroyed: they remain unaltered in the organic life, whatever may be the disposition of the parts.

The difference with respect to action, in the organs of the two lives, depends, undoubtedly, upon the symmetry of the one, whose functions the least change of conformation would have disturbed, and on the irregularity of the other, with which these different changes very well agree.

The functions of every organ of the animal life are immediately connected with the resemblance of the organ to its fellow on the opposite side if double, or if single to its similarity of conformation in its two halves: from hence the influence of organic changes upon the derangement of the functions may be well conceived.

But this assertion will become more sensible, when I shall have pointed out the relations which exist between the symmetry and the irregularity of the organs, and the harmony and the discordance of their functions.