BY THE LATE PROFESSOR JAMES MILLER, F.R.S.E., PROFESSOR OF SURGERY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF EDINBURGH, ETC., ETC.*
(Continued from page 307.)
IV.—WHAT IS TRUE OF THE MUSCLES IS TRUE ALSO OF THE BRAIN, the other organ specially used by man in his six days’ labour.
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The brain requires exercise for its functional development and health.—The man who does not think, is, or becomes a fool. The more a man thinks, with due intervals of repose, the more capable is he of thinking. By the exercise of thinking, he acquires an increased tone, and power, and energy in the organ of thought.
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The brain is exhausted by thought, continuous and strained.—Thought is a phenomenon, state, or action of the mind, and of the mind exclusively; evoked from it, however, or excited in it, through the concurrence of two things, first, either external stimulus or a prior state of the same mind; and, second, a certain state, at the same time, of the brain or nervous mass. These two together—along, of course, with the inherent abiding properties of the soul itself—enter into the cause and condition, the full antecedent, of each thought. Either of them being wanting, the effect would not follow; the other would not alone be sufficient to produce it. In other words, the thinking power now works in clay—the brain; and that clay, by sustained use, becomes so far deteriorated for the time, as to render imperfect or nullify the desired result. To become useful again, it needs repose.
To the rise in the mind, at present, even of the purest and most abstract thought, some prior or contemporaneous affection of the brain, some special state of it, in whole or in part, is in all probability indispensable. And whether indispensable or not to the very rise of each and every mental modification, it certainly is, at every instant, to its continuance. There is no state, exercise, or phenomenon of mind, which does not task, during its continuance, the brain, or some portion of it; not even the act of mentally willing, or volition itself. Hence, indeed, mainly, if not hence alone, fatigue; for the sensation of fatigue from rapid change, or from long continuance of state, is much less conspicuously mental in its origin than it is physical and corporeal.
* Professor Miller was in his day Surgeon in Ordinary to Queen Victoria, and to H.R.H. Prince Albert, for Scotland.
- The brain is refreshed also, ab intra, and in different ways—
(a) By cessation of effort.—This cannot, indeed, be absolute, as in the case of muscle. The brain is like the heart and other involuntary muscles in this respect; it does not at any time cease wholly from its vocation. Its functions—not excepting that which is auxiliary or instrumental to intelligence—are in some measure incessant. Thought, accordingly, is never, perhaps, absolutely absent, save in the idiot—if even then. But rest in thought is procured by abstaining from all voluntary effort of thinking; or by changing the train and character of thought from grave to gay, from what is severe and exhausting to what is felt to be light and exhilarating—just as muscles are often relieved, not by absolute cessation, but by alteration in their use.
(b) By sleep.—And here, too, the relaxation is less complete than with the voluntary muscles. The soul, it is probable, never absolutely sleeps, even in the hardest working man. “For what hath man of all his labour, and of the vexation of his heart, where-in he hath laboured under the sun? For all his days are sorrows, and his travail grief; yea, his heart taketh not rest in the night. This is also vanity” (Eccles. ii. 22, 23). It continues, oft-times, if not always, during sleep of the body, to evolve and manifest certain phenomena still by the ministry and partial co-operation of the would-be dormant brain; but not usually in the same way, or of the same kind, as in waking and working hours. That property, power, or energy of the brain, which is more specially and severely tasked by voluntary waking thought, is left in a great measure free to recover from the exhaustion of the day. And should it be otherwise—should either sleep be altogether denied, and the waking brain continue the same mode of action, and provoke or uphold within the mind the same train of thinking, or should the sleeping brain be so reacted upon and exercised by the never-sleeping soul as to maintain in dreams the same activity as in waking hours, there is no repose, no refreshment; the exhaustion and fatigue are progressive, and become ultimately complete. Authors, more especially of works of fiction, are apt to suffer in this way; and, warned by experience, they take care to cease from professional thought for some hours before bed-time, so as to shake off that tendency, and escape the evil. Exhaustion of nervous energy by the pervigilium of fever is similarly explained.
(c) By Sabbaths.—Here there is still less absoluteness of inactivity. The soul, we shall see, rests sabbatically in and by exercise of a spiritual kind—Godward; and its servant, the brain, must accompany and obey. Again the brain comes to resemble the material heart. It is never wholly idle; but works on—night and day, Sabbath and Saturday, more or less; but, with this peculiarity—and here it differs from the material heart—there are shifts of work. In the day-time, the action of the brain may shift from that attendant on voluntary to that accompanying involuntary thinking, or spontaneous reverie; or from that distinctive of
voluntary hard, to that characteristic of voluntary gay, thinking. At night it shifts from that of intense, labouring, waking thought, to something different in dreams. And on the Sabbath there should be a voluntary and continuous shift, corresponding to exercise of a spiritual and special kind, ordained for the well-being of both the material and immaterial part of man. On that day, we are not to think our own thoughts; there is the sabbatical shift. We cease from weekly mundane labour; but we are occupied with sabbatical spiritual employment or work. The Sabbath here is like the eternal Sabbath hereafter—”They rest from their labours“—but “their works do follow them.” From the labours of earth they have for ever ceased: in the works of heaven they ever abound.
(d) By an annual period of relaxation.—This is as important to the thinking as to the labouring part of man. So plain is it, that it is needless to argue the matter. Take ordinary every-day’s experience. The bookworm, the student, the editor, the author, the calculator, the politician, the statesman, the merchant, the divine—will they go on from day to day, from week to week, from year to year, in one unbroken mill-like routine of thinking and sameness of thought, and hope to retain either health of body or vigour of mind? Will they be content, and will the exigencies of their frame be satisfied with the night breaks, and weekly breaks only? Do they not highly prize and greatly long for the yearly break too? a time of weeks, in which all professional and systematic thinking is cast aside, and the whole man is placed in entirely new circumstances and susceptibilities? Without this, the mind as well as the body grows, or tends to grow, jaded, enfeebled, diseased. With it, rightly employed, the thinking man goes back to his sustained and systematic thought-labour with all the alacrity and power of one who has been mightily refreshed.
Yes; the brain, as well as the muscles—the whole man—must have the annual period of rest and revival. To quote the words of one well able and well entitled to judge on this matter:* “From all the minor seasons of rest there is always an unsettled balance of fatigue carried forward, if we may so express ourselves, to the longer seasons beyond. From the ‘blink of rest,’ there is a balance brought forward to the debit of the night; from the night to the debit of the Sabbath; and from the Sabbath to the debit of the yearly vacation.” Were these regular settlements duly made and always complete, the machine would wear well and long, and man might enjoy a wondrous longevity. But it is not so arranged. The tear and wear goes on, do as we will. Sooner or later the “silver cord is loosed, and the golden bowl broken;” the day is in none far distant, “when the keepers of the house shall tremble, and the strong men shall bow themselves, and the grinders cease.” Under the best management, and with the most prudent care, there remains at each settling time somewhat of a balance always
*Hugh Miller, vide “Witness,” No. 1529.
uncompensated. But, most assuredly, let these appointed times be neglected or unimproved, and then the rapidly accumulating balance of loss will speedily achieve a vital bankruptcy.*
It is down hill with us all. But he will be first at the bottom who neglects to use the appointed breaks for lessening the speed of descent.
*[This of the body. But, as will afterwards be shown more fully, how grandly different of the better part—the soul! At least it may and ought to be so. For that, too, there is a settling time and means; the means sufficient, the settlement complete. There may, nay, must be, a “carrying,” but there need be no “accumulating” balance of loss. For in that settlement not only is “the uttermost farthing” paid by Him who is our Surety, but, besides, He implants a something in the soul from and of Himself, which imparts to it entirely new characters and capabilities. And so soon as the “agreement” has been once fairly transacted between the sinner and the Saviour, the “renewed spirit” begins that life which knows no ending. Weared it often is, but the means of refreshment are ever nigh; the source of refreshment is ever full; the amount of refreshment is sufficient for every time of need; the soul is “renewed day by day,” and lives for ever. But without this settlement and compensation, matters are worse than in the case of the body; the adverse balance is not only “carrying,” but fearfully “accumulating,” soon to end in that second death from which there is no resurrection.]
V.—THERE IS DANGER AND DISADVANTAGE IN NOT WORKING, AND THERE IS DANGER AND DISADVANTAGE IN NOT RESTING THE BODY, AT PROPER TIMES AND SEASONS.—The special organs of man’s labour—brain and muscle—both suffer. From not working, nay, labouring, on the six lawful days of the week, there result debility, effeminacy, decay, disease. From overworking, on these days, there come fatigue and exhaustion; and decay and disease are not far distant. From weekly, mundane, forbidden working on the Sabbath, the body sustains injury and exhaustion; and, as will be seen immediately, a sadder loss accrues to the better part—the soul. But, by abstaining from weekly, mundane, forbidden working on the Sabbath, the body is invigorated and refreshed, and made a fit associate to the soul in its spiritual and enjoined work of God-service.
Working men! rest your muscles on the day of rest. That is their true “recreation.”
Students, of every age and kind, beware of secular study on the Lord’s day. He is a fool, physiologically, who studies all night. He is a greater fool still, physiologically, who studies secularly on the Sabbath-day. He puts his brain to a work for which, at such time, and for such a continuance, it was never designed; the work cannot “prosper,” neither can the organ of work “be in health;” blessing is withheld, and the curse must
* The paragraph in brackets is a footnote in the book.—ED.
come down—”Whatsoever soul it be that doeth any work on that same day, the same soul will I destroy from among his people.” The shaft is sped, and it may tarry a while on the wing, but let not that delay lull the offender into false security—”Because sentence against an evil work is not executed speedily,” let not “the hearts of the sons of men be fully set in them to do evil.”
Certain professions are placed at an apparent disadvantage in this respect. Their works of necessity and mercy—the discharge of which is always a part of the active and acceptable service of God—break in upon their rest of the Sabbath. I allude to medical men and ministers. The latter necessarily work on the Sabbath; and their work is of mercy too, in preaching the blessed Gospel of Christ. But they must still conform to the general law. A day of rest is necessary; and they must have it. Saturday is a day of preparation; Sabbath is the day specially of work; Monday is theirs, to rest; let them have it; let no man take it from them. Medical men do not require to work so invariably and so specially on the Sabbath. Their works of necessity and mercy are only by peradventure, and, at all events, are not beyond—seldom, indeed, equal to—their professional labour on other days. Therein they have the advantage of the clergy; but herein, alas! they fail—there is no Monday, no day of absolute relaxation for them. And hence the general public would do well to remember how becoming on their part it is to leave the minister undisturbed in his Monday, and to disturb the medical man on the Sabbath as little as possible. Give the one the entire Monday. Give the other as much of the Sabbath as circumstances will possibly allow; taking care that the act of mercy which you on that day require of him is one of necessity too.
And let medical men beware of inflicting on themselves the unnecessary practice of their profession on that day. Where there is a will, there is a way. Much may be done to clear the Sabbath of such labours as come on the ordinary days of the week. Some may be lifted back into the Saturday; some may be pushed forward into the Monday. Then, while all their workings are presumed to be of mercy, what are left on the Sabbath will be specially so, and of strict necessity too; as such they will constitute a well-pleasing service to God as well as to man; their labour will be light; and the heart and hand of each labourer will be not only lightened but upheld, as he looks for God’s blessing on what is done in conformity with the requirements of His righteous law, and in humble following of the blessed example of the holy Jesus, who, as the necessities arose, failed not to heal at all times, and with special solemnity declared that it is “lawful to do good on the Sabbath-days.”