To return to the inside of the left ventricle. Up at the top of the ventricle, close to the opening from the auricle, there is one other opening, and only one. If you put your finger into this, you will find that it leads into a tube which first of all dips under or behind the pulmonary artery and then comes up and to the front again. This tube is what you already know as the aorta. If you slit it up from the ventricle (and to do this you must cut through the pulmonary artery), you will find that on the left side, as on the right, the red fleshy wall of the ventricle suddenly changes into the yellow firm wall of the artery, and that just at this line there are three semilunar valves exactly like those in the pulmonary artery.
On the left side of the heart, then, we have also two valves, the mitral between the auricle and the ventricle, and the semilunar between the ventricle and the aorta. These let the blood pass one way and not the other. You can easily drive fluid from the pulmonary veins through auricle and ventricle into the aorta, but you cannot send it back the other way from the aorta.
These then are the reasons why the blood will only pass one way, the way I said it did. There are sets of valves opening one way and shutting the other. These valves are the tricuspid between the right auricle and right ventricle, the pulmonary semilunar valves between the right ventricle and the pulmonary artery, the mitral valve between the left auricle and the left ventricle, the aortic semilunar valves between the left ventricle and the aorta, and the valves which are scattered among the veins of the body. Of these by far the most important are the valves in the heart: they do the chief work; those in the veins do little more than help.
[33.] Well, then, we understand now, do we not? why the blood, if it moves at all, moves in the one way only. There still remains the question, Why does the blood move at all?
You know that during life it does keep moving. You have seen it moving in the web of a frog’s foot—and whenever any part of the body can be brought under the microscope, the same rush of red corpuscles through narrow channels may be seen. You know it moves because when you cut a blood-vessel the blood runs out. If you cut an artery across, the blood gushes out from the end which is nearest the heart; if you cut a vein across, the blood comes most from the end nearest the capillaries. If you want to stop an artery bleeding, you tie it between the cut and the heart; if you want to stop a vein bleeding, you tie it between the cut and the capillaries. You understand now why there is this difference between a cut artery and a cut vein. And you see that this is by itself a proof that the blood moves in the arteries from the heart to the capillaries, and in the veins from the capillaries to the heart.
The blood is not only always moving, but moves very fast. It flies along the great arteries at perhaps ten inches in a second. Through the little bit of capillaries along which it has to pass it creeps slowly, but manages sometimes to go all the way round from vein to vein again in about half a minute.
It is always moving at this rapid rate, and when it ceases to move, you die.
What makes it move?
Suppose you had a long thin muscle, fastened at one end to something firm, and with a weight hanging at the other end. You know that every time the muscle contracted it would pull on the weight and draw it up. But suppose, instead of hanging a weight on to the muscle, you wrapped the muscle round a bladder full of water. What would happen then each time the muscle contracted? Why, evidently it would squeeze the bladder, and if there were a hole in the bladder some of the water would be squeezed out. That is just what takes place in the heart. You have already learnt that the heart is muscular. Each cavity of the heart, each auricle, and each ventricle is, so to speak, a thin bag with a number of muscles wrapped round it. In an ordinary muscle of the body, the bundles of fibres of which the muscle is made up are placed carefully and regularly side by side. You can see this very well in a round of boiled beef, which is little more than a mass of great muscles running in different directions. You know that if you try to cut a thin slice right across the round, at one part your carving-knife will go “with the grain” of the meat, i.e. you will cut the fibres lengthways; at another part it will go “against the grain,” i.e. you will cut the fibres crossways. In both parts, the bundles of fibres will run very regularly. But in the heart the bundles are interlaced with each other in a very wonderful fashion, so that it is very difficult to make out the grain. They are so arranged in order that the muscular fibres may squeeze all parts of each bag at the same time.