tensive connexions which are established betwixt the great organs
that sustain life and the muscular system. I shall then show that
the functions of these organs are affected by passions of the mind.
I shall prove that this connexion subsists at the moment of birth,
and accompanies us through life; and, finally, that from this source
are derived those hitherto obscure indications of emotion in the
countenance and general frame, which cannot be explained on the
supposition of a direct influence of the mind on these muscles of
expression.
The heart and the lungs may be safely taken as two parts which
are combined in the same function. The action of the heart and
the motion of the lungs are equally necessary to the circulation of
that blood, which is fitted for the supply of the body, and the
interruption of their motions threatens fife. Accordingly, these
two organs are united by nerves, and consequently by the closest
sympathy; and in all the variations to which they are liable they
are still found to correspond, the accelerated action of the one being
directly followed by the excitement of the other.
The motion of the lungs proceeds from. a force altogether
external to these organs: the lungs themselves are passive; they
are moved by a very great number of muscles which lie upon the
breast, back, and neck; these muscles give play to the bones of
the chest, and the lungs follow the motions of the chest. The
heart and lungs, though insensible to common impression, yet
being acutely alive to their proper stimulus, they suffer from the
slightest change of posture or exertion of the frame, and also from
the changes or affections of the mind. The impression thus made
on these internal organs is not visible in its effect upon them, but
on the external and remote muscles associated with them. This
law embraces all mankind; we see the consequence in those susceptible
and nervous persons, whom the mere change of position,
or the effort of rising, or the slightest emotion of mind, flutters and
agitates. But it is when the strong are subdued by this mysterious
union of soul and body, when passion tears the breast, that the
most afflicting picture of human frailty is presented, and the surest
proof afforded that it is the respiratory organs on which the
influence of passion falls with so powerful an expression of agony.
The next circumstance of this detail to which I beg my reader’s
attention, is the extent of the actions of respiration, the remoteness
of the parts agitated in sympathy with the heart. The act of
respiration is not limited to the trunk; the actions of certain
muscles on the windpipe, the throat, the lips, the nostrils, are
necessary to expand those tubes and openings, so that the air may
be admitted through them in respiration, with a freedom corresponding
with the increased action of the chest. Without this, the
sides of these pliant tubes would fall together, and we should be
suffocated by exertion or passion. Let us consider how many
muscles are combined in the simple act of breathing—how many
are added in the act of coughing—how these are changed and
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