IS THE BODY A MACHINE?
The problem before us in this section is to find out to what extent
animals and plants are machines. We wish to determine whether the laws
and forces which regulate their activities are the same as the laws and
forces with which we experiment in the chemical and physical laboratory,
and whether the principles of mechanics and the doctrine of the
conservation of energy apply equally well in the living machine and the
steam engine.
It might be inferred that the proper method of study would be to confine
our attention largely to the simplest forms of life, since the problems
would be here less complicated, and therefore of easier solution. This,
however, has not been nor can it be the method of study. Our knowledge
of the processes of life have been derived largely from the most rather
than the least complex forms. We have a better knowledge of the
physiology of man and his allies than any other animals. The reason for
this is plain enough. In the first place, there is a value in the
knowledge of the life activities of man entirely apart from any
theoretical aspects, and hence human physiology has demanded attention
for its own sake. The practical utility of human physiology has
stimulated its study for centuries; and in the last fifty years of
scientific progress it has been human physiology and that of allied
animals that has attracted the chief attention of physiologists. The
result is that while the physiology of man is tolerably well known, that
of other animals is less understood the farther we get away from man and
his allies. For this reason most of our knowledge of the living body as
a machine must be derived from the study of man. This is, however,
fortunate rather than otherwise. In the first place, it enables us to
proceed from the known to the unknown; and in the second place, more
interest attaches to the problem as connected with human physiology than
along any other line. In our discussion, therefore, we shall refer
chiefly to the physiology of man. If we find that the functions of human
life are amenable to a mechanical explanation we cannot hesitate to
believe that this will be equally true of the lower orders of nature.
For similar reasons little reference will be made to the mechanism of
plant life. The structure of the plant is simpler and its activities are
much more easily referable to mechanical principles than are those of
animals. For these reasons it will only be necessary for us to turn our
attention to the life activities of the higher animals.
==What is a Machine?==--Turning now to our more immediate subject of the
accuracy of the statement that the body is a machine, we must first ask
what is meant by a machine? A brief definition of a machine might be as
follows: _A machine is a piece of apparatus so designed that it can
change one kind of energy into another for a definite purpose_. Energy,
as already noticed, is the power of doing work, and its ordinary active
forms are heat, motion, electricity, light, etc.; but it may be in a
passive or potential form, and in this form stored within a chemical
molecule. These various forms of energy are readily convertible into
each other; and any form of apparatus designed for the purpose of
producing such a conversion is called a machine. A dynamo is thus a
machine so adjusted that when mechanical motion is supplied to it the
energy of motion is converted into electricity; while an electromotor,
on the other hand, is a piece of apparatus so designed that when
electricity is applied to it, it is converted into motion. A steam
engine, again, is designed to convert potential or passive energy into
active energy. Potential energy in the form of chemical composition
(coal) is supplied to the engine, and this energy is first liberated in
the active form of heat and then is converted into the motion of the
great fly-wheel. In all these cases there is no energy or power created,
for the machine must be always supplied with an amount of energy equal
to that which it gives back in another form. Indeed, a larger amount of
energy must be furnished the machine than is expected back, for there is
always an actual loss of available energy. In the process of the
conversion of one form of energy into another some of the energy, from
friction or other cause, takes the form of heat, and is then radiated
into space beyond our reach. It is, of course, not destroyed, for energy
cannot be destroyed; but it has assumed a form called radiant heat,
which is not available for our uses. A machine thus neither creates nor
destroys energy. It receives it in one form and gives it back in another
form, with an inevitable loss of a portion of the energy as radiant
heat. With this understanding, we may now ask if the living body can be
properly compared with a machine.
==A General Comparison of a Body and a Machine==.--That the living body
exhibits the ordinary types of energy is of course clear enough when we
remember that it is always in motion and is always radiating heat--two
of the most common types of physical energy. That this energy is
supplied to the body as it is to other machines, in the form of the
energy of chemical composition, will also need no further proof when it
is remembered that it is necessary to supply the body with appropriate
food in order that it may do work. The food we eat, like coal,
represents so much solar energy which is stored up by the agency of
plant life, and the close comparison between feeding the body to enable
it to work and feeding the engine to enable it to develop energy is so
evident that it demands no further demonstration. The details of the
problem may, however, present some difficulties.
The first question which presents itself is whether the only power the
body possesses is, as in the case with other machines, to _transform_
energy without being able to create or destroy it? Can every bit of
energy shown by the living organism be accounted for by energy furnished
in the food, and conversely can all the energy furnished in the food be
found manifested in the living organism?
The theoretical answer to this question in terms of the law of the
conservation of energy is clear enough, but it is by no means so easy to
answer it by experimental data. To obtain experimental demonstration it
would be necessary to make an accurate determination of the amount of
energy an individual receives during a given period, and at the same
time a similar measurement of the amount of energy liberated in his body
either as motion or heat. If the body is a machine, these two should
exactly balance, and if they do not balance it would indicate that the
living organism either creates or destroys energy, and is therefore not
a machine. Such experiments are exceedingly difficult. They must be
performed usually upon man rather than other animals, and it is
necessary to inclose an individual in an absolutely sealed space with
arrangements for furnishing him with air and food in measured quantity,
and with appliances for measuring accurately the work he does and the
heat given off from his body. In addition, it is necessary to measure
the exact amount of material he eliminates in the form of carbonic acid
and other excretions. Such experiments present many difficulties which
have not yet been thoroughly overcome, but they have been attempted by
several investigators. For the purpose of such an experiment scientists
have allowed themselves to be shut up in a small chamber six or eight
feet in length, in which their only communication with the outer world
is by telephone and through a small opening in the side of the chamber,
occasionally opened for a second or two to supply the prisoner with
food. In such a chamber they have remained as long as twelve days. In
these experiments it is necessary to take account not only of the food
eaten, but of the actual amount of this food which is used by the body.
If the person gains in weight, this must mean that he is storing up in
his body material for future use; while if he loses in weight, this
means that he is consuming his own tissues for fuel. Careful daily
records of his weight must therefore be taken. Estimates of the solids,
liquids, and gases given off from his body must be obtained, for to
carry out the experiment an exact balance must be made between the
income and the outgo. The apparatus devised for such experiments has
been made very delicate; so delicate, indeed, that the rising of the
individual in the box from his chair is immediately seen in a rise in
temperature of the apparatus. But even with this delicacy the apparatus
is comparatively coarse, and can measure only the most apparent forms of
energy. The more subtle types of energy, such as nervous force, if this
is to be regarded as energy, do not make any impression on the
apparatus.
The obstacles in the way of these experiments do not particularly
concern us, but the general results are of the greatest significance for
our purpose. While, for manifest reasons, it has not been possible to
carry on these experiments for any great length of time, and while the
results have not yet been very accurately refined, they are all of one
kind and teach unhesitatingly one conclusion. So far as concerns
measurable energy or measurable material, the body behaves just like any
other machine. If the body is to do work in this respiration apparatus,
it does so only by breaking to pieces a certain amount of food and using
the energy thus liberated, and the amount of food needed is proportional
to the amount of work done. When the individual simply walks across the
floor, or even rises from his chair, this is accompanied by an increase
in the amount of food material broken up and a consequent increase in
the amount of refuse matter eliminated and the heat given off. The
income and outgo of the body in both matter and energy is balanced. If,
during the experimental period, it is found that less energy is
liberated than that contained in the food assimilated, it is also found
that the body has gained in weight, which simply means that the extra
energy has been stored in the body for future use. No more energy can be
obtained from the body than is furnished, and for all furnished in the
food an equivalent amount is regained. There is no trace of any creation
or destruction of energy. While, on account of the complexity of the
experimenting, an absolutely strict balance sheet cannot be made, all
the results are of the same nature. So far as concerns measurable
energy, all the facts collected bear out the theoretical conception that
the living body is to be regarded as a machine which converts the
potential energy of chemical composition, stored passively in its food,
into active energy of motion and heat.
It is found, however, that the body is a machine of a somewhat superior
grade, since it is able to convert this potential energy into motion
with less loss than the ordinary machine. As noticed above, in all
machines a portion of the energy is converted into heat and rendered
unavailable by radiating into space. In an ordinary engine only about
one-fifteenth of the energy furnished in the coal can be regained in the
form of motive power, the rest being radiated from the machine as heat.
Some of our better engines to-day utilize a somewhat larger part, but
most of them utilize less than one-tenth. The experiments with the
living body in the respiration apparatus above described, give a means
of determining the proportion of the energy furnished in the form of
food which can be utilized in the form of motive force. This figure
appears to be decidedly larger than that obtained by any machine yet
devised by man.
The conclusion of the matter up to this point is then clear. If we leave
out of account the phenomena of the nervous system, which we shall
consider presently, _the general income and outgo of the body as
concerns matter and energy is such that the body must be regarded as a
machine, which, like other machines, simply transforms energy without
creating or destroying it. To this extent, at least, animals conform to
the law of the conservation of energy and are veritable machines_.
==Details of the Action of the Machine.==--We turn next to some of the
subordinate problems concerning the details of the action of the living
machine. We have a clear understanding of the method of action of a
steam engine. Its mechanism is simple, and, moreover, it was designed by
human intelligence. We can understand how the force of chemical affinity
breaks up the chemical composition of the coal, how the heat thus
liberated is applied to the water to vapourize it; how the vapour is
collected in the boiler under pressure; how this pressure is applied to
the piston in the cylinder, and how this finally results in the
revolution of the fly-wheel. It is true that we do not understand the
underlying forces of chemism, etc., but these forces certainly exist and
are the foundation of science. But the mechanism of the engine is
intelligible. Our understanding of it is such that, with the forces of
chemistry and physics as a foundation, we can readily explain the
running of the machine. Our next problem, therefore, is to see if we
can in the same way reach an understanding of the phenomena of the
living machine. Can we, by the use of these same chemical and physical
forces, explain the activities taking place in the living organism? Can
the motion of the body, for example, be made as intelligible as the
motion of the steam engine?
==Physical Explanation of the Chief Vital Functions.==--The living machine
is, of course, vastly more complicated than the steam engine, and there
are many different processes which must be considered separately. There
is not space in a work of this size to consider them all carefully, but
we may select a few of the vital functions as illustrations of the
method which is pursued. It will be assumed that the fundamental
processes of human physiology are understood by the reader, and we shall
try to interpret some of them in terms of chemical and physical force.
_Digestion._--The first step in this transformation of fuel is the
process of digestion. Now this process of digestion is nothing
mysterious, nor does it involve any peculiar or special forces.
Digestion of food is simply a chemical change therein. The food which is
taken into the body in the form of sugar, starch, fat or protein, is
acted upon by the digestive juices in such a way that its chemical
nature is slightly changed. But the changes that thus occur are not
peculiar to the living body, since they will take place equally well in
the chemist's laboratory. They are simply changes in the molecular
structure of the food material, and only such changes as are simple and
familiar to the chemist. The forces which effect the change are
undoubtedly those of chemical affinity. The only feature of the process
which is not perfectly intelligible in terms of chemical law is the
nature of the digestive juices. The digestive fluids of the mouth and
stomach contain certain substances which possess a somewhat remarkable
power, inasmuch as they are able to bring about the chemical changes
which occur in the digestion of food. An example will make this clearer.
One of the digestive processes is the conversion of starch into sugar.
The relation of these two bodies is a very simple one, starch being
readily converted into sugar by the addition to its molecule of a
molecule of water. The change can not be produced by simply adding
starch to water, but the water must be introduced into the starch
molecule. This change can be brought about in a variety of ways, and is
undoubtedly effected by the forces of chemical affinity. Chemists have
found simple methods of producing this chemical union, and the
manufacture of sugar out of starchy material has even become something
of a commercial industry. One of the methods by which this change can be
produced is by adding to the starch, along with some water, a little
saliva. The saliva has the power of causing the chemical change to occur
at once, and the molecule of water enters into the starch molecule and
forms sugar. Now we do not understand how this saliva possesses this
power to induce the chemical change. But apparently the process is of
the simplest character and involves no greater mystery than chemical
affinity. We know that the saliva contains a certain material called a
ferment, which is the active agent in bringing about the change. This
ferment is not alive, nor does it need any living environment for its
action. It can be separated from the saliva in the form of a dry
amorphous powder, and in this form can be preserved almost
indefinitely, retaining its power to effect the change whenever put
under proper conditions. The change of starch into sugar is thus a
simple chemical change occurring under the influence of chemical
affinity under certain conditions. One of the conditions is the presence
of this saliva ferment. If we can not exactly understand how the ferment
produces this action, neither do we exactly understand how a spark
causes a bit of gunpowder to explode. But we can not doubt that the
latter is a purely natural result of the relation of chemical and
physical forces, and there is no more reason for doubting it in the
former case.
What is true of the digestion of starch by saliva is equally true of the
digestion of other foods in the stomach and intestine. Each of the
digestive juices contains a ferment which brings about a chemical change
in the food. The changes are always chemical changes and are the result
of chemical forces. Apart from the presence of these ferments there is
really little difference between laboratory chemistry and living
chemistry.
_Absorption of food_.--The next function of this machine to attract our
attention is the absorption of food from the intestine into the blood.
The digested food is carried down the alimentary canal in a purely
mechanical fashion by muscular action, and when it reaches the intestine
it begins to pass through its walls into the blood. In this absorption
we find engaged another set of forces, the chief of which appears to be
the physical force of _osmosis_. The force of osmosis has no special
connection with life. If a membrane separates two liquids of different
composition (Fig. i), a force is exerted on the liquids which cause them
to pass through the membrane, each passing through the membrane into
the other compartment. The force which drives these liquids through the
membrane is considerable, and may sometimes be exerted against
considerable pressure. A simple experiment will illustrate this force.
In Fig. 2 is represented a membranous bag tightly fastened to a glass
tube. The bag is filled with a strong solution of sugar, and is immersed
in a vessel containing pure water. Under these conditions some of the
sugar solution passes through the bag into the water, and some of the
water passes from the vessel into the bag. But if the solution of sugar
is inside the bag and the pure water outside, the amount of liquid
passing into the bag is greater than the amount passing out; the bag
soon becomes distended and the water even rises in the tube to a
considerable height at _a_(Fig. 2). The force here concerned is a force
known as _osmosis_ or _dialysis_, and is always exerted when two
different solutions of certain substances are separated from each other
by a membrane. The substances in solution will, under these conditions,
pass from the dense to the weaker solution. The process is a purely
physical one.
[Illustration: FIG. 1.--To illustrate osmosis. In the vessel _A_ is a
solution of sugar; in _B_, is pure water. The two are separated by the
membrane _C_. The sugar passes through the membrane into _B_.]
[Illustration: FIG. 2.--In the bladder _A_ is a sugar solution. In the
vessel _B_ is pure water. Sugar passes out and water into the bladder
until it rises in the tube to a.]
This process of osmosis lies at the basis of the absorption of food from
the alimentary canal. In the first place, most of the food when
swallowed is not soluble, and therefore not capable of osmosis. But the
process of digestion, as we have seen, changes the chemical nature of
the food. The food, as the result of chemical change, has become
soluble, and after being dissolved it is _dialyzable_--i.e., capable of
osmosis. After digestion, therefore, the food is dissolved in the
liquids in the stomach and intestine, and is in proper condition for
dialysis. Furthermore, the structure of the intestine is such as to
produce conditions adapted for dialysis. This can be understood from
Fig. 3, which represents diagrammatically a cross section through the
intestinal wall. Within the intestinal wall, at _A_, is the food mass in
solution. At _B_ are shown little projections of the intestinal wall,
called _villi_ extending into this food and covered by a membrane. One
of these _villi_ is shown more highly magnified in Fig. 4, in which _B_
shows this membrane. Inside of these villi are blood-vessels, _C_, and
it will be thus seen that the membrane, _B_, separates two liquids, one
containing the dissolved food outside the villus, and the other
containing blood inside the villus. Here are proper conditions for
osmosis, and this process of dialysis will take place whenever the
intestinal contents holds more dialyzable material than the blood.
Under these conditions, which will always occur after food has been
digested by the digestive juices, the food will begin to pass through
this membranous wall of the intestine into the blood under the influence
of the physical force of osmosis. Thus the primary factor in food
absorption is a physical one.
We must notice, however, that the physical force of osmosis is not the
only factor concerned in absorption. In the first place, it is found
that the food during its passage through the intestinal wall, or shortly
afterwards, undergoes a further change, so that by the time it has
fairly reached the blood it has again changed its chemical nature. These
changes are, however, of a chemical nature, and, while we do not yet
know very much about them, they are of the same sort as those of
digestion, and involve probably nothing more than chemical processes.
[Illustration: FIG. 3--Diagram of the intestinal walls. _A_, lumen of
intestine filled with digested food. _B_, villi, containing blood
vessels. _C_, larger blood vessel, which carries blood with absorbed
food away from the intestine.]
Secondly, we notice that there is one phase of absorption which is still
obscure. Part of the food is composed of fat, and this fat, as the
result of digestion, is mechanically broken up into extremely minute
droplets. Although these droplets are of microscopic size they are not
actually in solution, and therefore not subject to the force of osmosis
which only affects solutions. The osmotic force will not force fat drops
through membranes, and to explain their passage through the walls of the
intestine requires something additional. We are as yet, however, able to
give only a partial explanation of this matter. The inner wall of the
intestine is not an inert, lifeless membrane, but is made of active bits
of living matter. These bits of living matter appear to seize hold of
the droplets of oil by means of little processes which they thrust out,
and then pass them through their own bodies to excrete them on their
inner surface into the blood vessels. Fig. 5 shows a few of these living
bits of the membrane, each containing several such fat droplets. This
fat absorption thus appears to be a _vital_ process, and not one simply
controlled by physical forces like osmosis. Here our explanation runs
against what we call _vital power_ of the ultimate elements of the body.
The consideration of this vital feature we must, of course, investigate
further; but this will be done later. At present our purpose is a
general comparison of the body and a machine, and we may for a little
postpone the consideration of this vital phenomenon.
[Illustration: FIG. 4.--Diagram of a single villus enlarged. _B_
represents the membranous surface covering the villus; _C_, the
blood-vessels within the villus.]
[Illustration: FIG. 5.--An enlarged figure of four cells of the membrane
_B_ in Fig. 4. The free surface is at _a_; _f_ shows fat droplets in
process of passage through the cells.]
_Circulation_.--The next piece of mechanism for us to consider in this
machine is the device for distributing this fuel to the various parts of
the machine where it is to be used as a source of energy, corresponding
in a sense to the fireman of a locomotive. This mechanism we call the
circulatory system. It consists of a series of tubes, or blood vessels,
running to every part of the body and supplying every bit of tissue.
Within the tubes is the blood, which, from its liquid nature, is easily
forced around the body through the tubes. At the centre of the system is
a pump which keeps the blood in motion. The tubes form a closed system,
such that the pump, or heart, may suck the blood in from one side to
force it out into the tubes on the other side; and the blood, after
passing over the body in this closed set of tubes, is finally brought
back again to be forced once more over the same path. As this blood is
carried around the body it conveys from one part of the machine to
another all material that needs distribution. While in the intestine, as
already noticed (Fig. 3), it receives the food, and now this food is
carried by the circulation to the muscles or the other organs that need
it. While in the lungs the blood receives oxygen, and this oxygen is
then carried to those parts of the body that need it. The circulatory
system is thus simply a medium by which each part of the machine may
receive its proper share of the supplies needed for its action.
Now in this circulation we have again to do with chemical and physical
forces. All of its general phenomena are based upon purely mechanical
principles. The action of the heart--leaving out of consideration for a
moment its muscular power--is that of a simple pump. It is provided with
valves whose action is as simple and as easy to understand as those of
any water pump. By the action of these valves the blood is kept
circulating in one direction. The blood vessels are elastic, and the
study of the effect of a liquid pumped rhythmically into elastic tubes
explains with simplicity the various phenomena associated with the
circulation. For example, the rhythmically contracting heart forces a
small quantity of blood into the arteries at short intervals. These
tubes are large near the heart, but smaller at their ends, where they
flow into the veins, so that the blood does not flow out into the veins
so readily as it flows in from the heart. The jet of blood that is sent
in with every beat of the heart slightly stretches the artery, and the
tension thus produced causes the blood to continue to flow between the
beats. But the heart continues beating, and there is an accumulation of
the blood in the arteries until it exists under some pressure--a
pressure sufficient to force it rapidly through the small ends of the
arteries into the veins. After passing into the veins the pressure is at
once removed, since the veins are larger than the arteries, and there is
no resistance to the flow of the blood. Hence the blood in the arteries
is under pressure, while there is little or no pressure in the veins.
Into the details of this matter we need not go, but this will be
sufficient to indicate that the whole process is a mechanical one.
We must not fail to see, however, that in this problem of circulation
there are two points at least where once more we meet with that class of
phenomena which we still call vital. The beating of the heart is the
first of these, for this is active muscular power. The second is a
contraction of the smaller blood-vessels which regulates the blood
supply. Both of these phenomena are phases of muscular activity, and
will be included under the discussion of other similar phenomena later.
[Illustration: FIG. 6.--A bit of muscle with its blood-vessels: _a_, the
muscle fibres; _b_, the minute blood-vessels. The fibres and vessels are
bathed in lymph (not shown in the figure), and food material passes
through the walls of the blood-vessels into this lymph.]
We next notice that not only is the distribution of the blood explained
upon mechanical principles, but the supplying of the active parts of the
body with food is in the same way intelligible. As we have seen, the
blood coming from the intestine contains the food material received from
the digested food. Now when this blood in its circulation flows through
the active tissues--for instance, the muscles--it is again placed under
conditions where osmosis is sure to occur. In the muscles the
thin-walled blood-vessels are surrounded and bathed by a liquid called
lymph. Figure 6 shows a bit of muscle tissue, with its blood-vessels,
which are surrounded by lymph. The lymph, which is not shown, fills all
the space outside the blood-vessels, thus bathing both muscles and
blood-vessels. Here again we have a membrane (i.e., the wall of the
blood-vessel) separating two liquids, and since the lymph is of a
different composition from the blood, dialysis between them is sure to
occur, and the materials which passed into the blood in the intestine
through the influence of the osmotic force, now pass out into the lymph
under the influence of the same force. The food is thus brought into the
lymph; and since the lymph lies in actual contact with the living muscle
fibres, these fibres are now able to take directly from the lymph the
material needed for their use. The power which enables the muscle fibre
to take the material it needs, discarding the rest, is, again, one of
the _vital_ processes which we defer for a moment.
_Respiration_.--Pursuing the same line of study, we turn for a moment to
the relation of the circulatory system to the function of supplying the
body with oxygen gas. Oxygen is absolutely needed to carry on the
functions of life; for these, like those of the engine, are based upon
the oxidation of the fuel. The oxygen is derived from the air in the
simplest manner. During its circulation the blood is brought for a
fraction of a second into practical contact with air. This occurs in the
lungs, where there are great numbers of air cells, in the walls of which
the blood-vessels are distributed in great profusion. While the blood is
in these vessels it is not indeed in actual contact with the air, but is
separated from it by only a very thin membrane--so thin that it forms no
hindrance to the interchange of gases. These air-cells are kept filled
with air by simple muscular action. By the contraction of the muscles of
the thorax the thoracic cavity is enlarged, and as a result air is
sucked in in exactly the same way that it is sucked into a pair of
bellows when expanded. Then the contraction of another set of muscles
decreases the size of the thoracic cavity, and the air is squeezed out
again. The action is just as truly mechanical as is that of the
blacksmith's bellows.
The relation of the air to the blood is just as simple. In the blood
there are various chemical ingredients, among which is one known as
hæmoglobin. It does not concern us at present to ask where this material
comes from, since this question is part of the broader question, the
origin of the machine, to be discussed in the second part of this work.
The hæmoglobin is a normal constituent of the blood, and, being red in
colour, gives the red colour to the blood. This hæmoglobin has peculiar
relations to oxygen. It can be separated from the blood and experimented
upon by the chemist in his laboratory. It is found that when hæmoglobin
is brought in contact with oxygen, under sufficient pressure it will
form a chemical union with it. This chemical union is, however, what the
chemist calls a loose combination, since it is readily broken up. If the
oxygen is above a certain rather low pressure, the union will take
place; while if the pressure be below this point the union is at once
destroyed, and the oxygen leaves the hæmoglobin to become free. All of
this is a purely chemical matter, and can be demonstrated at will in a
test tube in the laboratory. But this union and disassociation is just
what occurs as the foundation of respiration. The blood coming to the
lungs contains hæmoglobin, and since the oxygen pressure in the air is
quite high, this hæmoglobin unites at once with a quantity of oxygen
while the blood is flowing through the air-vessels. The blood is then
carried off in the circulation to the active tissues like the muscles.
These tissues are constantly using oxygen to carry on their life
processes, and consequently at all times use up about all the oxygen
within their reach. The result is that in these tissues the oxygen
pressure is very low, and when the oxygen-laden hæmoglobin reaches them
the association of the hæmoglobin with oxygen is at once broken up and
the oxygen set free in the tissue. It passes at once to the lymph, from
which the active tissues seize it for the purpose of carrying on the
oxidizing processes of the body. This whole matter of supplying the body
with oxygen is thus fundamentally a chemical one, controlled by chemical
laws.
_Removal of Waste_.--The next step in this life process is one of
difficulty. After the food and oxygen have reached the tissues it is
seized by the living cell. The food material is now oxidized by the
oxygen and its latent energy is liberated, and appears in the form of
motion or heat or some other vital function. Herein is the really
mysterious part of the life process; but for the present we will
overlook the mystery of this action, and consider the results from a
purely material standpoint.
In a steam engine the fundamental process by which the latent energy of
the fuel is liberated is that of oxidation. The oxygen of the air unites
with the chemical elements of the fuel, and breaks up that fuel into
simple compounds--which may be chiefly considered as three--carbonic
dioxide (CO_{2}), water (H_{2}O), and ash. The energy contained in the
original compound can not be held by these simpler bodies, and it
therefore escapes as heat. Just the same process, with of course
difference in details, is found in the living machine. The food, after
reaching the living cell, is united with the oxygen, and, so far as
chemical results are concerned, the process is much the same as if it
occurred outside the body. The food is broken into simpler compounds and
the contained energy is liberated. The energy is, by the mechanism of
the machine, changed into motion or nervous impulse, etc. The food is
broken into simple compounds, which are chiefly carbonic dioxide, water,
and ash; the ash being, however, quite different from the ash obtained
from burning coal. Now the engine must have its chimney to remove the
gases and vapours (the CO_{2} and H_{2}O) and its ashpit for the ashes.
In the same way the living machine has its excretory system for removing
wastes. In the removal of the carbonic acid and water we have to do once
more with the respiratory system, and the process is simply a repetition
of the story of gas diffusion, chemical union, and osmosis. It is
sufficient here to say that the process is just as simple and as easily
explained as those already described. The elimination of these wastes is
simply a problem of chemistry and mechanics.
In the removal of the ash, however, we have something more, for here
again we are brought up against the vital action of the cell. This ash
takes chiefly the form of a compound known as urea, which finds its way
into the general circulatory system. From the blood it is finally
removed by the kidneys. In the kidneys are a large number of bits of
living matter (kidney cells), which have the power of seizing hold of
the urea as the blood is flowing over them, and after thus taking it out
of the blood they deposit it in a series of tubes which lead to the
bladder and hence to the exterior. The bringing of this ash to the
kidney cell is a mechanical matter, based simply upon the flow of the
blood. The seizing of the urea by the kidney cell is a vital phenomenon
which we must waive for the moment.
Up to this point in the analysis there has been no difficulty, and no
one can fail to agree with the conclusions. The position we reach is as
follows: So far as relates to the general problems of energy in the
universe the body is a machine. It neither creates nor destroys energy,
but simply transforms one form into another. In attempting to explain
the action of the machine, we find that for the functions thus far
considered (sometimes called the vegetative functions) the laws of
chemistry and physics furnish adequate explanation.
We must now look a little further, and question some of the functions
the mechanical nature of which is less obvious. The whole operation thus
far described is under the control of the nervous system, which acts
somewhat like the engineer of an engine. Can this phase of living
activity be included within the conception of the body as a machine?
_Nervous System_.--When we come to try to apply mechanical principles to
the nervous system, we meet with what seems at first to be no
thoroughfare. While dealing with the grosser questions of chemical
compounds, heat, and motion, there is little difficulty in applying
natural laws to the explanation of living phenomena. But the problem
with the nervous system is very different. It is only to-day that we are
finding that the problem is open to study, to say nothing of solution.
It is true that mental and other nervous phenomena have been studied for
a long time, but this study has been simply the study of these phenomena
by themselves without a thought of their correlation with other
phenomena of nature. It is a matter of quite recent conception that
nervous phenomena have any direct relation to the other realms of
nature.
Our first question must be whether we can find any correlation between
nervous energy and other types of energy. For our purpose it will be
convenient to distinguish between the phenomena of simple nervous
transmission and the phenomena of mental activity. The former are the
simpler, and offer the greatest hope of solution. If we are to find any
correlation between nervous energy and other physical energy, we must do
so by finding some way of measuring nervous energy and comparing it with
the latter. This has been very difficult, for we have no way of
measuring a nervous impulse directly. In the larger experiments upon the
income and outgo of the body, in the respiration apparatus mentioned
above, nervous phenomena apparently leave no trace. So far as
experiments have gone as yet, there is no evidence of an expenditure of
extra physical energy when the nervous system is in action. This is not
surprising, however, for this apparatus is entirely too coarse to
measure such delicate factors.
That there is a correlation between nervous energy and physical energy
is, however, pretty definitely proved by experiments along different
lines. The first step in this direction was to find that a nervous
stimulus can be measured at least indirectly. When the nerve is
stimulated there passes from one end to the other an impulse, and the
rapidity with which it travels can be accurately measured. When such an
impulse reaches the brain it may give rise to a conscious sensation, and
a somewhat definite estimation can be made of the amount of time
required for this. The periods are very short, of course, but they are
not instantaneous. The nervous impulse, can be studied in still other
ways. We find that the impulse can be started by ordinary forms of
energy. A mechanical shock, a chemical or an electrical shock will
develop nervous energy. Now these are ordinary forms of physical energy,
and if, when they are applied to a nerve, they give rise to a nervous
stimulus, the inference is certainly a legitimate one that the nerve is
simply a bit of machinery adapted to the conversion of certain kinds of
physical energy into nervous energy. If this is the case, then it is
necessary to regard nervous energy as correlated with other forms of
energy.
Other facts point in the same direction. Not only can the nervous
stimulus be developed by an electric shock, but the strength of the
stimulus is within certain limits proportional to the strength of the
shock which produces it. Again, not only is it found that an electrical
shock can develop a nervous stimulus, but conversely a nervous stimulus
develops electrical energy. In ordinary nerves, even when not active,
slight electric currents can be detected. They are extremely slight, and
require the most delicate instruments for their detection. Now when a
nerve is stimulated these currents are immediately affected in such a
way that under proper conditions they are increased in intensity. The
increase is sufficient to make itself easily seen by the motion of a
galvanometer. The motion of the galvanometer under these conditions
gives a ready means of studying the character of the nervous impulse. By
its use it can be determined that the nerve impulse travels along the
nerve like a wave, and we can approximately determine the length and
shape of the wave and its relative height at various points.
Now what is the significance of all these facts for our discussion?
Together they point clearly to the conclusion that nervous energy is
correlated with other forms of physical energy. Since the nervous
stimulus is started by other forms of energy, and since it can, in turn,
modify ordinary forms of energy, we can not avoid the conclusion that
the nervous impulse is only a special form of energy developed within
the nerve. It is a form of wave motion peculiar to the nerve substance,
but correlated with and developed from other types of energy. This, of
course, makes the nerve simply a bit of machinery.
If this conclusion is true, the development of a nerve impulse would
mean that a certain portion of food is broken to pieces in the body to
liberate energy, and this should be accompanied by an elimination of
carbonic dioxide and heat. This is easily shown to be true of muscle
action. When we remove a muscle from the body it may remain capable of
contracting for some time. By studying it under these conditions we find
that it gives rise to carbonic dioxide and other substances, and
liberates heat whenever it contracts. As already noticed, in the
respiration experiments, whenever the individual experimented upon
makes any motions, there is an accompanying elimination of waste
products and a development of heat. But this does not appear to be
demonstrable for the actions of the nervous system. Although very
careful experiments have been made, it has as yet been found impossible
to detect any rise in temperature when a nerve impulse is passing
through a nerve, nor is there any demonstrable excretion of waste
products. This would be a serious objection to the conception of the
nerve as a machine were it not for the fact that the nerve is so small
that the total sum of its nervous energy must be very slight. The total
energy of this minute machine is so slight that it can not be detected
by our comparatively rough instruments of measurement.
In short, all evidence goes to show that the nerve impulse is a form of
motion, and hence of energy, correlated with other forms of physical
energy. The nerve is, however, a very delicate machine, and its total
amount of energy is very small. A tiny watch is a more delicate machine
than a water-wheel, and its actions are more dependent upon the accuracy
of its adjustment. The water-wheel may be made very coarse and yet be
perfectly efficacious, while the watch must be fashioned with extreme
delicacy. Yet the water-wheel transforms vastly more energy than the
watch. It may drive the many machines in a factory, while the watch can
do no more than move itself. But who can doubt that the watch, as well
as the water-wheel, is governed by the law of the correlation of forces?
So the nervous system of the living machine is delicately adjusted and
easily put out of order, and its action involves only a small amount of
energy; but it is just as truly subject to the law of the conservation
of energy as is the more massive muscle.
_Sensations_.--Pursuing this subject further, we next notice that it is
possible to trace a connection between physical energy and _sensations_.
Sensations are excited by certain external forms of motion. The living
machine has, for example, one piece of apparatus capable of being
affected by rapidly vibrating waves of air. This bit of the machine we
call the ear. It is made of parts delicately adjusted, so that vibrating
waves of air set them in motion, and their motion starts a nervous
stimulus travelling along the auditory nerve. As a result this apparatus
will be set in motion, and an impulse sent along the auditory nerve
whenever that external type of motion which we call sound strikes the
ear. In other words, the ear is a piece of apparatus for changing air
vibrations into nervous stimulation, and is therefore a machine.
Apparently the material in the ear is like a bit of gunpowder, capable
of being exploded by certain kinds of external excitation; but neither
the gunpowder nor the material in the ear develops any energy other than
that in it at the outset. In the same way the optic nerve has, at its
end, a bit of mechanism readily excited by light vibrations of the
ether, and hence the optic nerve will always be excited when ether
vibrations chance to have an opportunity of setting the optic machinery
in motion. And so on with the other senses. Each sensory nerve has, at
its end, a bit of machinery designed for the transformation of certain
kinds of external energy into nervous energy, just as a dynamo is a
machine for transforming motion into electricity. If the machine is
broken, the external force has no longer any power of acting upon it,
and the individual becomes deaf or blind.
_Mental Phenomena_.--Thus far in our analysis we need not hesitate in
recognizing a correlation between physical and nervous energy. Even
though nervous energy is very subtle and only affects our instruments of
measurements under exceptional conditions, the fact that nervous forces
are excited by physical forces, and are themselves directly measurable,
indicates that they are correlated with physical forces. Up to this
point, then, we may confidently say that the nervous system is part of
the machine.
But when we turn to the more obscure parts of the nervous phenomena,
those which we commonly call mental, we find ourselves obliged to stop
abruptly. We may trace the external force to the sensory organ, we may
trace this force into a nervous stimulus, and may follow this stimulus
to the brain as a wave motion, and therefore as a form of physical
energy. But there we must stop. We have no idea of how the nervous
impulse is converted into a sensation. The mental side of the sensation
appears to stand in a category by itself, and we can not look upon it as
a form of energy. It is true that many brave attempts have been made to
associate the two. Sensations can be measured as to intensity, and the
intensity of a sensation is to a certain extent dependent upon the
intensity of the stimulus exciting it. The mental sensation is
undoubtedly excited by the physical wave of nervous impulse. In the
growth of the individual the development of its mental powers are found
to be parallel to the development of its nerves and brain--a fact which,
of course, proves that mental power is dependent upon brain structure.
Further, it is found that certain visible changes occur in certain parts
of the brain--the brain cells--when they are excited into mental
activity. Such series of facts point to an association between the
mental side of sensations and physical structure of the machine. But
they do not prove any correlation between them. The unlikeness of mental
and physical phenomena is so absolute that we must hesitate about
drawing any connection between them. It is impossible to conceive the
mental side of a sensation as a form of wave motion. If, further, we
take into consideration the other phenomena associated with the nervous
system, the more distinctly mental processes, we have absolutely no data
for any comparison. We can not imagine thought measured by units, and
until we can conceive of such measurement we can get no meaning from any
attempt to find a correlation between mental and physical phenomena. It
is true that certain psychologists have tried to build up a conception
of the physical nature of mind; but their attempts have chiefly resulted
in building up a conception of the physical nature of the brain, and
then ignoring the radical chasm that exists between mind and matter. The
possibility of describing a complex brain as growing parallel to the
growth of a complex mind has been regarded as equivalent to proving
their identity. All attempts in this direction thus far have simply
ignored the fact that the stimulation of a nerve, a purely physical
process, is not the same thing as a mental action. What the future may
disclose it is hazardous to say, but at present the mental side of the
living machine has not been included within the conception of the
mechanical nature of the organism.
==The Living Body is a Machine.==--Reviewing the subject up to this
point, what must be our verdict as to our ability to understand the
running of the living machine? In the first place, we are justified in
regarding the body as a machine, since, so far as concerns its relations
to energy, it is simply a piece of mechanism--complicated, indeed,
beyond any other machine, but still a machine for changing one kind of
energy into another. It receives the energy in the form of chemical
composition and converts it into heat, motion, nervous wave motion, etc.
All of this is sure enough. Whether other forms of nervous and mental
activity can be placed under the same category, or whether these must be
regarded as belonging to a realm by themselves and outside of the scope
of energy in the physical sense, can not perhaps be yet definitely
decided. We can simply say that as yet no one has been able even to
conceive how thought can be commensurate with physical energy. The utter
unlikeness of thought and wave motion of any kind leads us at present to
feel that on the side of mentality the comparison of the body with a
machine fails of being complete.
In regard to the second half of the question, whether natural forces are
adequate to explain the running of the machine, we have again been able
to reach a satisfactory positive answer. Digestion, assimilation,
circulation, respiration, excretion, the principal categories of
physiological action, and at least certain phases of the action of the
nervous system are readily understood as controlled by the action of
chemical and physical forces. In the accomplishment of these actions
there is no need for the supposition of any force other than those
which are at our command in the scientific laboratory.
==The Living Machine Constructive as well as Destructive.==--In one
respect the living machine differs from all others. The action of all
other machines results in the _destruction_ of organized material, and
thus in a _degradation of matter_. For example, a steam engine receives
coal, a substance of high chemical composition, and breaks it into _more
simple_ compounds, in this way liberating its stored energy. Now if we
examine all forms of artificial machines, we find in the same way that
there is always a destruction of compounds of high chemical composition.
In such machines it is common to start with heat as a source of energy,
and this heat is always produced by the breaking of chemical compounds
to pieces. In all chemical processes going on in the chemist's
laboratory there is similarly a destruction of organic compounds. It is
true that the chemist sometimes makes complex compounds out of simpler
ones; but in order to do this he is obliged to use heat to bring about
the combination, and this heat is obtained from the destruction of a
much larger quantity of high compounds than he manufactures. The total
result is therefore _destruction_ rather than manufacture of high
compounds. Thus it is a fact, that in all artificial machines and in all
artificial chemical processes there is, as a total result, a degradation
of matter toward the simpler from the more complex compounds.
As a result of the action of the living machine, however, we have the
opposite process of _construction_ going on. All high chemical compounds
are to be traced to living beings as their source. When green plants
grow in sunlight they take simple compounds and combine them together
to form more complex ones in such a way that the total result is an
increase of chemical compounds of high complexity. In doing this they
use the energy of sunlight, which they then store away in the compounds
formed. They thus produce starches, oils, proteids, woods, etc., and
these stores of energy now may be used by artificial machines. The
living machine builds up, other machines pull down. The living machine
stores sunlight in complex compounds, other machines take it out and use
it. The living organism is therefore to be compared to a sun engine,
which obtains its energy directly from the sun, rather than to the
ordinary engine. While this does not in the slightest militate against
the idea of the living body as a machine, it does indicate that it is a
machine of quite a different character from any other, and has powers
possessed by no other machine. _Living machines alone increase the
amount of chemical compounds of high complexity._
We must notice, however, that this power of construction in distinction
from destruction, is possessed only by one special class of living
machines. _Green plants_ alone can thus increase the store of organic
compounds in the world. All colourless plants and all animals, on the
other hand, live by destroying these compounds and using the energy thus
liberated; in this respect being more like ordinary artificial machines.
The animal does indeed perform certain constructive operations,
manufacturing complex material out of simpler bodies; as, for example,
making fats out of starches. But in this operation it destroys a large
amount of organic material to furnish the energy for the construction,
so that the total result is a degradation of chemical compounds rather
than a construction. Constructive processes, which increase the amount
of high compounds in nature, are confined to the living machine, and
indeed to one special form of it, viz., the green plant. This
constructive power radically separates the living from other machines;
for while constructive processes are possible to the chemist, and while
engines making use of sunlight are possible, the living machine is the
only machine that increases the amount of high chemical compounds in the
world.
==The Vital Factor.==--With all this explanation of life processes it can
not fail to be apparent that we have not really reached the centre of
the problem. We have explained many secondary processes, but the primary
ones are still unsolved. In studying digestion we reach an understanding
of everything until we come to the active vital property of the
gland-cells in secreting. In studying absorption we understand the
process until we come to what we have called the vital powers of the
absorptive cells of the alimentary canal. The circulation is
intelligible until we come to the beating of the heart and the
contraction of the muscles of the blood-vessels. Excretion is also
partly explained, but here again we finally must refer certain processes
to the vital powers of active cells. And thus wherever we probe the
problem we find ourselves able to explain many secondary problems, while
the fundamental ones we still attribute to the vital properties of the
active tissues. Why a muscle contracts or a gland secretes we have
certainly not yet answered. The relation of the actions to the general
problems of correlation of force is simple enough. That a muscle is a
machine in the sense of our definition is beyond question. But the
problem of _why_ a muscle acts is not answered by showing that it
derives its energy from broken food material. There are plainly still
left for us a number of fundamental problems, although the secondary
ones are soluble.
What can we say in regard to these fundamental vital powers of the
active tissues? Firstly, we must notice that many of the processes which
we now understand were formerly classed as vital, and we only retain
under this term those which are not yet explained. This, of course,
suggests to us that perhaps we may some day find an explanation for all
the so-called vital powers by the application of simple physical forces.
Is it a fact that the only significance to the term vital is that we
have not yet been able to explain these processes to our entire
satisfaction? Is the difference between what we have called the
secondary processes and the primary ones only one of degree? Is there a
probability that the actions which we now call vital will some day be as
readily understood as those which have already been explained?
Is there any method by which we can approach these fundamental problems
of muscle action, heart beat, gland secretion, etc.? Evidently, if this
is to be done, it must be by resolving the body into its simple units
and studying these units. Our study thus far has been a study of the
machinery of the body as a whole; but we have found that the various
parts of the machine are themselves active, that apart from the action
of the general machine as a whole, the separate parts have vital powers.
We must, therefore, get rid of this complicated machinery, which
confuses the problem, and see if we can find the fundamental units which
show these properties, unencumbered by the secondary machinery which has
hitherto attracted our attention. We must turn now to the problem
connected with protoplasm and the living cell, since here, if anywhere,
can we find the life substance reduced to its lowest terms.