Over this sort of education, which the organs of the animal life receive, society exercises a very great influence; it enlarges the sphere of action of some of them, lessens it for others, and modifies it in them all.
I shall first remark, that it constantly gives to some of the organs a perfection greater than naturally should be their portion. Such in fact is the nature of our occupations as always to require the especial action of some one, or other of these organs. The ear of the musician, the palate of the cook, the brain of the philosopher, the muscles of the dancer, and the larynx of the singer, receive in addition to the general education of the exterior life, a particular education.
Under these considerations, the occupations of mankind might be divided into three classes. The first would comprehend all those, which especially regard the senses, such as painting, music, and sculpture, the acts of the perfumer and the cook, and in a word all those the results of which are productive of pleasure to the senses. In the second would be ranged the occupations, wherein the brain is chiefly called into action; such as poetry, the sciences of nomenclature, the mathematics and metaphysics. The occupations of dancing, equitation, and the mechanic acts would form the third class.[46]
Each several occupation then of the individual, brings into permanent activity, some one organ in particular, and gives it a peculiar perfection. The ear of the musician in a piece of harmony, and the eye of the painter in a picture, distinguish many things which entirely escape the vulgar. It frequently happens that this perfection of action, is accompanied in the more exercised organ with an excess of nutrition: this we may frequently observe in the muscles of the arm of the baker, in those of the inferior limbs of the dancer, and in those of the countenance of the player.
In the second place I have asserted that society contracts the sphere of action, which should naturally belong to many of the external organs. Indeed, for the sole reason that any one of them is the more occupied, the others must be less so, and lose in aptitude what is gained by the single organ. The most common observation will prove this truth at every moment.
Examine the philosopher, who in his abstract meditations, and in the silence of the closet condemns to inaction his external and locomotive powers. Examine him by chance attempting any exercise of the body, and you will laugh at his awkwardness and air of constraint; his sublime conceptions astonish, the heaviness of his movements is amusing.
Examine on the contrary the dancer, who by the lightness of his steps exhibits apparently to the eye whatever the graces of fable have set before the imagination. It might be imagined perhaps that the profoundest meditations, have been productive of such felicity of motion; but let him be conversed with, and nothing very surprising will be found in the man.
The observing mind, which analyses the different individuals of society at every moment, will be led to similar remarks. Perfection of action in the locomotive organs, concurring with a like perfection of intellect, will seldom be found.