LECTURE X. THE LAWS OF ANIMAL LIFE, CONTINUED.
In the last lecture I began to investigate the laws by which living bodies are governed, and the effects produced by the different exciting powers, which support life, upon the excitability, or vital principle. The facts which we examined led us to two conclusions, which, when properly applied, we shall find will explain most of the phenomena of life, both in health, and in disease. The conclusions alluded to, are these: when the exciting powers have acted more feebly, or weakly, than usual, for some time; or when their action is withdrawn, the excitability accumulates, and becomes more powerfully affected by their subsequent action. And, on the contrary, when the action of these powers has been exerted with violence, or for a considerable time, the excitability becomes exhausted, and less fit to receive their actions.
A number of facts were mentioned in proof of these conclusions, and a great number more might have been brought forwards, could it have served any other purpose than to have taken up our time, which I hope may be better employed.
This exhaustion of the excitability, by stimulants, may either be final, or temporary. We see animals, while the exciting powers continue to act, at first appear in their greatest vigour, then gradually decay, and at last come into that state, in which, from the long continued action of the exciting powers, the excitability is entirely exhausted, and death takes place.
We likewise see vegetables in the spring, while the exciting powers have acted on them moderately, and for a short time, arrayed in their verdant robes, and adorned with flowers of many mingling hues; but as the exciting powers, which support their life, continue to be applied, and some of them, for instance heat, as the summer advances, become increased, they first lose their verdure, then grow brown, and at the end of summer cease to live: because their excitability is exhausted by the long continued action of the exciting powers: and this does not happen merely in consequence of the heat of the summer decreasing, for they grow brown, and die, even in a greater degree of heat than that which in spring made them grow luxuriantly. In some of the finest days of autumn, in which the sun acts with more power than in the spring, the vegetable tribe droop, in consequence of this exhausted state of their excitability, which renders them nearly insensible of the action, even of a powerful stimulus.
These are examples of the final or irreparable exhaustion of the excitability; but we find also that it may be exhausted for a time, and accumulated again. Though the eye has been so dazzled by the splendour of light, that it cannot see an object moderately illuminated, yet if it be shut for some time, the excitability of the optic nerve will accumulate again, and we shall again be capable of seeing with an ordinary light.
We find also that we are not always equally capable of performing the functions of life. When we have been engaged in any exertion, either mental or corporeal, for some hours only, we find ourselves languid and fatigued, and unfit to pursue our labours much longer.
If in this state several of the exciting powers are withdrawn, particularly light and noise, and if we are laid in a posture which does not require much muscular exertion, we soon fall into that state which nature intended for the accumulation of the excitability, and which we call sleep. In this state many of the exciting powers cannot act upon us, unless applied with some violence, for we are insensible to their moderate action. A moderate degree of light, or a moderate noise, does not affect us, and the power of thinking, which very much exhausts the excitability, is in a great measure suspended. When the action of these powers has been suspended for six or eight hours, the excitability is again capable of being acted on, and we rise fresh and vigorous, and fit to engage in our occupations.
Sleep then is the method which nature has provided to repair the exhausted constitution, and restore the vital energy. Without its refreshing aid, our worn out habits would scarcely be able to drag on a few days, or at most, a few weeks, before the vital spring would be quite run down: how properly therefore has our great poet called sleep "the chief nourisher in life's feast!"
From the internal sensations, often excited, it is natural to conclude, that the nerves of sense are not torpid during sleep, but that they are only precluded from the perception of external objects, by the external organs being in some way or other rendered unfit to transmit to them the impulses of bodies during the suspension of the power of volition; thus the eyelids are closed, in sleep, to prevent the impulse of light from acting on the optic nerve; and it is very probable that the drum of the ear is not stretched; it seems likewise reasonable to conclude, that something similar happens to the external apparatus of all our organs of sense, which may make them unfit for their office of perception during sleep.