Undas quisque suas volvens,—cursuque sonoro
In mare prorumpunt; hos magno acclinis in antro
Excipit Oceanus, natorumque ordine longo
Dona recognoscit venientum, ultroque serenat
Coeruleam faciem, et diffuso marmore ridet.
Haud aliter species properant se inferre novellæ
Certatim menti.”[69]
In the brain itself, the anatomist is able to shew us, with perfect clearness, many complicated parts, which we must believe to be adapted for answering particular purposes in the economy of life; but when we have gazed with admiration on all the wonders which his dissecting hand has revealed to us, and have listened to the names with which he most accurately distinguishes the little cavities or protuberances which his knife has thus laid open to our view, we are still as ignorant as before of the particular purposes to which such varieties of form are subservient; and our only consolation is,—for there is surely some comfort in being only as ignorant as the most learned,—that we know as much of the distinct uses of the parts as the anatomist himself, who exhibits them to us, and teaches us how to name them. A structure, in every respect different, though assuredly less fit than the present which has been chosen by infinite wisdom, might, as far as we know, have answered exactly the same end; which is as much as to say, that our ignorance on the subject is complete. The only physiological facts of importance, in reference to sensation, are, that if the nerves, which terminate in particular organs, be greatly diseased, the sensations which we ascribe to those particular organs cease; and cease, in like manner, if the continuity of the nerves be destroyed, by cutting them in any part of their course, or if, without loss of absolute continuity, their structure, in any part of their course be impaired by pressure, whether from tight ligatures drawn around them for the purpose of experiment, or from natural morbid causes. In short, if the brain and nerves be in a sound state, and certain substances be applied to certain parts of the nervous system,—as, for instance, sapid bodies to the extremities of the nerves of taste, or light to that expansion of the optic nerve, which forms what is termed the retina,—there is then instant sensation; and when the brain itself is not in a sound state to a certain extent, or when the nerve which is diffused on a particular organ is, either at this extremity of it, or in any part of its course, to a certain degree impaired, then there is no sensation, though the same external causes be applied. This very slight general knowledge of the circumstances in which sensation takes place, and of the circumstances in which it does NOT take place, is all the knowledge which physiology affords us of the corporeal part of the process;—and it is likely to continue so forever,—at least in all the more important respects of our ignorance,—since any changes which occur in the corpuscular motion, and consequent new arrangement of the particles of the substance of the brain and nerves, corresponding with the diversities of feeling during those particular states,—if such corpuscular motions or changes do really take place,—are probably far too minute to be observable by our organs; even though we could lay open all the internal parts of the brain to complete observation, without destroying, or at all affecting, the usual phenomena of life:—
In “following life through creatures we dissect,
We loose it, in the moment we detect.”