THE MORAL A2TD SOCIAL ASPECTS OF HEALTH. 



147 



deaths from pure unmitigated starvation. For 

 one such case as this, how many thousands, how 

 many millions, where the balance of functions un- 

 dergoes some slight, unperceived, accumulating 

 disturbance ! There is an instinct within us which, 

 without analyzing it further just now, we may 

 call the self-preserving instinct. When we stum- 

 ble, the arm is thrust out violently to restore the 

 balance. When a stone or insect flies too near 

 the eyes, the lids close involuntarily. When the 

 air in the lungs becomes too highly charged with 

 refuse, this instinct shows itself in the bcsoin de 

 rcspirer, and deep draughts of fresh air are taken 

 in. And so with every other function of the 

 body. This instinct (I am not now discussing 

 whether it be simple or complex) takes cogni- 

 zance, as it were, of the uneasy sensations that 

 indicate the need of food, of drink, of exercise, 

 and of every other natural function. 



Now see what happens when, from any cause 

 whatever, this instinct is interfered with. Take 

 simple instances to begin with. Watch animals. 

 Vivinspection is a much more fruitful way of 

 reaching truth of this kind than vivisection. Watch 

 a favorite dog that has been waiting an hour or 

 two for his dinner, and then, just as it is brought) 

 invite him for a walk. The excitement of joy ut- 

 terly overwhelms hunger, the whole muscular sys- 

 tem is violently agitated — non ha membro, che 

 ierga fermo, as Dante would say ; and the meal is 

 for the moment utterly forgotten. I often watch 

 this little spectacle, and it seems to me to have a 

 great deal of instruction in it. Here we have an 

 [ interruption to the self-preserving instinct, but it 

 is a disturbance of a thoroughly healthy kind ; 

 the sense of hunger returns in very good time ; 

 meantime there has been a good walk, the blood 

 has been purified, the digestive organs are readier 

 for their work. Such a disturbance as this is 

 like the discords of the musician which pave the 

 way to higher harmony. This temporary super- 

 seding, and, so to speak, natural and spontane- 

 ous discipline, of the lower instincts lies at the 

 very root of the higher forms of health. 



But now take instances of the opposite kind. 

 Watch a dog that has lost its master, or a wild 

 creature newly taken captive. See the paralysis 

 both of animal energy and vegetal energy that 

 results. Note the failure of muscular activity, 

 the failure of respiration, the failure of digestion 

 and appetite. I saw a parrot not long ago refuse 

 its food for two days from jealousy of a white 

 dove whose cage had been placed in the same 

 room. I say again, watch your animals; don't 

 vivisect them, vivimpect them, and see what wis- 



dom can be got out of them that way. You see, 

 then, even among them, what an element of dis- 

 turbance or of strengthening the health emotion 

 may be. And now follow out these rudimentary 

 truths to their legitimate logical consequences 

 among savages, and then among civilized man. 

 See how we tend more and more to live by the 

 brain. More than ever is it evident now that 

 man lives not by bread alone. " We live," says 

 Wordsworth, " by admiration, hope, and love ; 

 and, even as these are well and wisely fixed, in 

 dignity of being we ascend." And do you sup- 

 pose that it is of no consequence to that harmo- 

 nious vigor of bodily functions whether these 

 things are well and wisely fixed, or whether they 

 are fixed at all ? Are you so credulous as to 

 suppose that carking care and fretful discontent 

 and feverish excitement and thwarted ambition 

 and cankering remorse can do their work for 

 years and show no sign ? Eead what poet Blake 

 thought as he wandered about London streets, 

 looking at what passed him like a ghost in a city 

 of ghosts : 



" I wander through each chartered street 



Near where the chartered Thames does flow, 

 And mark in every face I meet 



Marks of weakness, marks of woe. 



'■ In every cry of every man, 



In every infant's cry of fear, 

 In every voice, in every ban, 



The mind-forged manacles I hear. 



" How the chimney-sweeper's cry 



Every blackening church appalls ! 

 And the hapless soldier's sigh 



Runs in blood down palace-walls ! 



" But most through midnight streets I hear 

 How the youthful harlot's curse 

 Blasts the new-born infant's tear, 



And blights with plagues the marriage-hearse." 



There are many types, both bad and good, of 

 the opposite kind. All concentrated unity of 

 moral purpose, bad or good, tends to harmony of 

 bodily functions, to physical vigor, to health. 

 Life-long avarice, successful ambition, have this 

 result very often. There is selfish unity of pur- 

 pose, and there is unselfish unity. But remark 

 that the first can only exist in the few that are 

 strong and successful : in the two or three misers 

 that win fortunes, the two or three slaves of am- 

 bition that wade their way through slaughter to a 

 throne. Thwarted ambition, thwarted avarice, lead 

 to a very different result. The only unity which is 

 perfect, the only unity which is attainable by the 

 weak as well as by the strong, is that which goes 

 side by side with union — at once the source of it, 



