Chapter XLII: Introduction (17)

This fluid is also the most simple, pure, and unadulterated body, in which all the parts of the pullet are present potentially, though none of them are there actually. It appears that nature has conceded to it the same qualities which are usually ascribed to first matter common to all things, viz. that potentially it be capable of assuming all forms, but have itself no form in fact. So the crystalline humour of the eye, in order that it might be susceptible of all colours, is itself colourless; and in like manner are the media or organs of each of the senses destitute of all the other qualities of sensible things: the organs of smelling and hearing, and the air which ministers to them, are without smell and sound; the saliva of the tongue and mouth is also tasteless.

And it is upon this argument that they mainly rely who maintain the possibility of an incorporeal intellect, viz. because it is susceptible of all forms without matter; and as the hand is called the “instrument of instruments,” so is the intellect called “the form of forms,” being itself immaterial and wholly without form; it is, therefore, said to be possible or potential, but not passible.

This fluid, or one analogous to it, appears also to be the ultimate aliment from which Aristotle taught that the semen, or geniture, as he calls it, is produced.[350] I say the ultimate aliment, called dew by the Arabians, with which all the parts of the body are bathed and moistened. For in the same way as this dew, by ulterior condensation and adhesion, becomes alible gluten and cambium, whence the parts of the body are constituted, so, mutatis mutandis, in the commencement of generation and nutrition, from gluten liquefied and rendered thinner is formed the nutritious dew: from the white of the egg is produced the colliquament under discussion, the radical moisture and primigenial dew. The thing indeed is identical in either instance, if any credit be accorded to our observations; and in fact neither philosophers nor physicians deny that an animal is nourished by the same matter out of which it is formed, and is increased by that from which it was engendered. The nutritious dew, therefore, differs from the colliquament or primigenial moisture only in the relation of prior and posterior; the one is concocted and prepared by the parents, the other by the embryo itself, both juices, however, being the proximate and immediate aliment of animals; not indeed “first and second,” according to that dictum, “contraria ex contrariis,” but ultimate, as I have said, and as Aristotle himself admonishes us, according to that other dictum, “similia ex similibus augeri,” “like is necessarily increased by its like.” There is in either fluid a proximate force, in virtue of which, no obstacles intervening, it will pass spontaneously, or by the law of nature, into every part of the animal body.

Such being the state of the question, it is obvious that all controversy about the matter of animals and their nourishment may be settled without difficulty. For as some believe that the semen or matter emitted in intercourse is taken up from every part of the body, so do they derive from this the resemblance of the offspring to the parents. Aristotle has these words: “Against the opinion of the ancients, it may be said that as they avow the semen to be a derivative from all parts else, we believe the semen to be disposed of itself to form every part; and whilst they call it a colliquament, we are rather inclined to regard it as an excrement” (he had, however, said shortly before that he entitled excrement the remains of the nourishment, and colliquament that which is secreted from the growth by a preternatural resolution); “for that which arrives last, and is the excrement of what is final, is in all probability of the same nature; in the same way as painters have very commonly some remains of colours, which are identical with those they have applied upon their canvass; but anything that is consuming and melting away is corrupt and degenerate. Another argument that the seminal fluid is not a colliquament, but an excrement, is this: that animals of larger growth are less prolific, smaller creatures more fruitful. Now there must be a larger quantity of colliquament in larger than in smaller animals, but less excrement; for as there must be a large consumption of nourishment in a large body, so must there be a small production of excrement. Farther, there is no place provided by nature for receiving and storing colliquament; it flows off by the way that is most open to it; but there are receptacles for all the natural excrements--the bowels for the dry excrements, the bladder for the moist; the stomach for matters useful; the genital organs, the uterus, the mammæ for seminal matter--in which several places they collect and run together.” After this he goes on by a variety of arguments to prove that the seminal matter from which the fœtus is formed is the same as that which is prepared for the nutrition of the parts at large. As if, should one require some pigment from a painter, he certainly would not go to scrape off what he had already laid on his canvass, but would supply the demand from his store, or from what he had over from his work, which was still of the same nature as that which he might have taken away from his picture. So and in like manner the excrement of the ultimate nutriment, or the remainder of the gluten and dew, is carried to the genital organs and there deposited; and this view is most accordant with the production of eggs by the hen.

The medical writers, too, who hold all the parts to be originally formed from the spermatic fluid, and consequently speak of these under the name of spermatic parts, say that the semen is formed from the ultimate nourishment, which with Aristotle they believe to be the blood, being produced by the virtue of the genital organs, and constituting the “matter” of the fœtus. Now it is obvious enough that the egg is produced by the mother and her ultimate nutriment, the nutritious dew, to wit. That clear part of the egg, therefore, that primigenial, or rather antegenial colliquament, is more truly to be reputed the semen of the cock, although it is not projected in the act of intercourse, but is prepared before intercourse, or is gathered together after this, as happens in many animals, and as will perhaps be stated more at length by and by, because the geniture of the male, according to Aristotle, coagulates.

When I see, therefore, all the parts formed and increasing from this one moisture, as “matter,” and from a primitive root, and the reasons already given combine in persuading us that this ought to be so, I can scarcely refrain from taunting and pushing to extremity the followers of Empedocles and Hippocrates, who believed all similar bodies to be engendered as mixtures by association of the four contrary elements, and to become corrupted by their disjunction; nor should I less spare Democritus and the Epicurean school that succeeded him, who compose all things of congregations of atoms of diverse figure. Because it was an error of theirs in former times, as it is a vulgar error at the present day, to believe that all similar bodies are engendered from diverse or heterogeneous matters. For on this footing, nothing even to the lynx’s eye would be similar, one, the same, and continuous; the unity would be apparent only, a kind of congeries or heap--a congregation or collection of extremely small bodies; nor would generation differ in any respect from a [mechanical] aggregation and arrangement of particles.

But neither in the production of animals, nor in the generation of any other “similar” body (whether it were of animal parts, or of plants, stones, minerals, &c.), have I ever been able to observe any congregation of such a kind, or any divers miscibles pre-existing for union in the work of reproduction. For neither, in so far at least as I have had power to perceive, or as reason will carry me, have I ever been able to trace any “similar” parts, such as membranes, flesh, fibres, cartilage, bone, &c., produced in such order, or as coexistent, that from these, as the elements of animal bodies, conjoined organs or limbs, and finally, the entire animal, should be compounded. But, as has been already said, the first rudiment of the body is a mere homogeneous and pulpy jelly, not unlike a concrete mass of spermatic fluid; and from this, under the law of generation, altered, and at the same time split or multifariously divided, as by a divine fiat, from an inorganic an organic mass results; this is made bone, this muscle or nerve, this a receptacle for excrementitious matter, &c.; from a similar a dissimilar is produced; out of one thing of the same nature several of diverse and contrary natures; and all this by no transposition or local movement, as a congregation of similar particles, or a separation of heterogeneous particles is effected under the influence of heat, but rather by the segregation of homogeneous than the union of heterogeneous particles.

And I believe that the same thing takes place in all generation, so that similar bodies have no mixed elements prior to themselves, but rather exist before their elements (these, according to Empedocles and Aristotle, being fire, air, earth, and water; according to chemists, salt, sulphur, and mercury; according to Democritus, certain atoms), as being naturally more perfect than these. There are, I say, both mixed and compound bodies prior to any of the so called elements, into which they are resolved, or in which they end. They are resolved, namely, into these elements according to reason rather than in fact. The so-called elements, therefore, are not prior to those things that are engendered, or that originate, but are posterior rather--they are relics or remainders rather than principles. Neither Aristotle himself nor any one else has ever demonstrated the separate existence of the elements in the nature of things, or that they were the principles of “similar” bodies.

The philosopher,[351] indeed, when he proceeds to prove that there are elements, still seems uncertain whether the conclusion ought to be that they exist _in esse_, or only _in posse_; he is of opinion that in natural things they are present in power rather than in action; and therefore does he assert, from the division, separation, and solution of things, that there are elements. It is, however, an argument of no great cogency to say that natural bodies are primarily produced, or composed of those things into which they are ultimately resolved; for upon this principle some things would come out composed, of glass, ashes, and smoke, into which we see them finally reduced by fire; and as artificial distillation clearly shows that a great variety of vapours and waters of different species can be drawn from so many different bodies, the number of elements would have to be increased to infinity. Nor has any one among the philosophers said that the bodies which, dissolved by art, are held pure and indivisible in their species, are elements of greater simplicity than the air, water, and earth, which we perceive by our senses, which we are familiar with through our eyes.

Nor, to conclude, do we see aught in the shape of miscible matter naturally engendered from fire; and it is perhaps impossible that it should be so, since fire, like that which is alive, is in a perpetual state of fluxion, and seeks for food by which it may be nourished and kept in being; in conformity with the words of Aristotle,[352] that “Fire is only nourished, and is especially remarkable in this.” But what is nourished cannot itself be mingled with its nutriment. Whence it follows that it is impossible fire should be miscible. For mixture, according to Aristotle, is the union of altered miscibles, in which one thing is not transformed into another, but two things, severally active and passive, into a third thing. Generation, however, especially generation by metamorphosis, is the distribution of one similar thing having undergone change into several others. Nor are mixed similar bodies said to be generated from the elements, but to be constituted by them in some certain way, solvent forces residing in them at the same time.

These considerations, however, properly belong to the section of Physiology, which treats of the elements and temperaments, where it will be our business to speak of them more at large.

ON PARTURITION.

On generation follows parturition, that process, viz. by which the fœtus comes into the world and breathes the external air. I have, therefore, thought it well worth while, and within the scope of my design, to treat briefly of this subject. With Fabricius, then, I shall consider the causes, the manner, and the seasons of this process, as well as the circumstances which both precede and follow it. The circumstances which occur immediately previous to birth, and which, in women especially, indicate that the act of parturition is not far distant, are, on the one hand, such a preparation and arrangement on the part of the mother as may enable her to get rid of her offspring; and on the other, such a disposition of the fœtus as may best facilitate its expulsion.

With respect to the latter, viz. the position of the fœtus, Fabricius says,[353] “that it is disposed in a globular form and bent upon itself, in order that its extremities and prominent points generally may not injure the uterus and the containing membranes; another reason being that it may be packed in as small a space as possible.” For my own part, I cannot think that these are the reasons why the limbs of the fœtus are always kept in the same position. Swimming and moving about, as it does, in water, it extends itself in every direction, and so turns and twists itself that occasionally it becomes entangled in a marvellous manner in its own navel-string. The truth is, that all animals, whilst they are at rest or asleep, fold up their limbs in such a way as to form an oval or globular figure: so in like manner embryos, passing as they do the greater part of their time in sleep, dispose their limbs in the position in which they are formed, as being most natural and best adapted for their state of rest. So too the infant in utero is generally found disposed after this manner: the knees are drawn up towards the abdomen, the legs flexed, the feet crossed, and the hands directed to the head, one of them usually resting on the temples or ears, the other on the chin, in which situation white spots are discernible on the skin as the result of friction; the spine, moreover, is curved into a circle, and the neck being bowed, the head falls upon the knees. In such a position is the embryo usually found, as that which we naturally take in sleep; the head being situated superiorly, and the face usually turned towards the back of the mother. A short time, however, before birth the head is bent downwards towards the orifice of the uterus, and the fœtus, as it were, in search of an outlet, dives to the bottom. Thus Aristotle:[354] “All animals naturally come forth with the head foremost; but cross and foot presentations are unnatural.” This, however, does not hold universally; but as the position in utero varies, so too does the mode of exit; this may be observed in the case of dogs, swine, and other multiparous animals. The human fœtus even has not always the same position; and this is well known to pregnant women, who feel its movements in very different parts of the uterus, sometimes in the upper part, sometimes in the lower, or on either side.

In like manner the uterus, when the term of gestation is completed, descends lower (in the pelvis), the whole organ becomes softer, and its orifice patent. The “waters” also, as they are vulgarly called, “gather;” that is, a portion of the chorion, in which the watery matter is contained, gets in front of the fœtus, and falls from the uterus into the vagina; at the same time the neighbouring parts become relaxed and dilatable; in addition to which the cartilaginous attachments of the pelvic bones so lose their rigidity that the bones themselves yield readily to the passage of the fœtus, and thus greatly increase the area of the hypogastric region. When all these circumstances concur, it is quite clear that delivery is not far distant. Nature, in her provident care, contrives this dilatation of the parts in order that the fœtus may come into the world like the ripe fruit of a tree; just as she fills the breasts of the mother with milk that the being who is soon to enjoy an independent existence may have whereon to subsist. These, then, are the circumstances which immediately precede birth; and thus it happens that the presence of milk has especially been regarded as a sign of approaching delivery--milk, I mean, of a character suitable for the sustenance of the offspring; and this, according to Aristotle,[355] is only visible at the period of birth; it is therefore never observed before the seventh month of pregnancy.

Fabricius[356] maintains that on the subject of parturition there were two special heads of inquiry, viz. the time at which and the manner in which the process took place. Under the first of these heads he considers the term of utero-gestation; under the second, the way in which the fœtus comes into the world.

Aristotle[357] thought that the term of utero-gestation varied much. “There is,” he says, “a certain definite term to each animal, determined in the majority of cases by the animal’s duration of life; for it follows of necessity that a longer period is required for the production of the longer-lived animals.” He attributes, however, the chief cause to the size of the animal; “for it is scarcely possible,” he continues, “that the vast frames of animals or of aught else can be brought to perfection in a short period of time. Hence it is that in the case of mares and animals of cognate species, though their duration of life is small, their term of utero-gestation is considerable; and thus the elephant carries its young for the space of two years, the reason being its enormous size, for each animal has a definite magnitude, beyond which it cannot pass.” I would add, that the material of which each is formed has also its fixed limit in point of quantity. He says, moreover, “There is good reason why animals should have the periods of gestation, generation, and duration of life in certain cycles--I mean by cycle, a day, night, month, and year, and the time which is described by these; also the motions of the moon--for these are the common origin of generation to all. For it is in accordance with reason that the cycles of inferior things should follow those of the higher.” Nature, then, has decreed that the birth and death of animals should have their period and limit after this manner.

Just as the birth of animals depends on the course of the sun and moon, so have they various seasons for copulation and different terms of utero-gestation, these last being longer or shorter according to circumstances. “In the human species alone,” says the philosopher in the same part of his works, “is the period of utero-gestation subject to great irregularity. In other animals there is one fixed time, but in man several; for the human fœtus is expelled both in the seventh and tenth months, and at any period of pregnancy between these; moreover, when the birth takes place in the eighth month, it is possible for the infant to live.” In the majority of animals there is a distinct season for bringing forth their young; this is generally found to be in the spring, when the sun returns, but in many species it is in the summer, and in some in the autumn, as is the case with the cartilaginous fishes. Hence it is that animals, as the time of labour approaches, seek their accustomed haunts, and provide a safe and comfortable shelter where they may bring forth and rear their young. Hence, too, the title “bird-winds,” applied to those gales which prevail toward the beginning of spring, the word owing its origin to the fact of certain birds at that period of the year availing themselves of these winds to accomplish their migrations. In like manner stated seasons are observed by those fishes which congregate in myriads in certain places for the purpose of rearing their young. Moreover, in the spring, as soon as caterpillars fall under our notice (their ova, as may be observed by the way, like to invisible atoms, being for the most part carried by the winds, and not owing their origin, as commonly supposed, to spontaneous generation, or to be looked upon as the result of putrefaction), straightway the trees put forth their buds, soon to be devoured by these creatures; and these in their turn fall victims to birds innumerable, and are carried to the nest as food for the young brood. So constantly does this hold, that whenever strange species of caterpillars fall under notice, at the same time we are sure to see some rare and foreign birds, as if the latter had chased the former from some remote corner of the earth. Now in both of these classes of creatures the time for bringing forth their young is the same. Physicians, too, when these phenomena occur, are enabled to predict the approach of sundry strange diseases. Bees bring forth in the month of May, when honey abounds; wasps in the summer, when the fruit is ripe; and this is analogous to what takes place in viviparous animals, who produce their young at the period when their milk is best adapted for their offspring. But other animals of the non-migratory classes, in the same way, at stated seasons seek a place to deposit their young as they do a store of food. And thus it results that the countryman is able to decide what are the proper seasons for ploughing, sowing, and getting in his harvest, forming his opinion chiefly from the approach of flocks of birds, and especially of the seminivora. There are, however, some animals in whom there is no fixed time for production, and this is chiefly the case with those which are called domestic, and live with the human species. These both copulate and produce their young at uncertain seasons, and the reason probably is to be sought for in the larger quantity of food they consume, and the consequent inordinate salacity. But in these, as in the human species, the process of parturition is often difficult and dangerous.

There are other animals also on whom the course of the moon has influence, and which consequently copulate and bring forth their young at certain periods of the year--rabbits, mice, and the human female may be instanced. “For the moon,” observes Plutarch,[358] “when half full, is represented as greatly efficacious in shortening the pains of labour, and this she effects by moderating and relaxing the humours--hence, I think, those surnames of Diana are derived, Locheia, i. e. the tutelar deity of childbirth, and Eilytheia, otherwise Lucina; for Diana and the moon are synonymous.”

“In all other animals,” says Pliny,[359] “there are stated seasons and periods for production and utero-gestation; in man alone are they undetermined.” And this is, to a great extent, true; for in his case, although nature has laid down for the most part certain boundaries, yet there is sometimes a vast difference in individuals, and instances are recorded of women bringing forth viable children, some in the seventh, and others in the fourteenth month. Further, although Aristotle[360] asserts “that the majority of eight months’ children in Greece die,” he still admits “that they survive in Egypt and in some other countries, where the women have easy labours;” and although he says “that children born before the seventh month can under no circumstances survive, and that the seventh month is the first in which anything like maturity exists, and that the feebleness of children born even then is such as to make it necessary to wrap them in wool,” he still allows “that these are viable.” Franciscus Valesius tells us of a girl in his time, who, although a five months’ child, had arrived at the age of twelve years. Adrianus Spigelius[361] also records the case of a certain courier, “who proved to the satisfaction of all, on the public testimony of the city of Middleburgh, that he was born at the commencement of the sixth month, and that his frame was so slight and fragile that his mother found it necessary to wrap him up in cotton until such times as he was able to bear the ordinary dress of infants.” Avicenna[362] also states that a sixth months’ child is very capable of surviving. In like manner it is proved, both by ancient and modern authorities, that children may live who are born after the completion of the eleventh month. “We are told,” says Pliny,[363] “by Massurius, that when his inheritance was claimed by the next heir, Lucius Papyrius the prætor gave the decision against the claimant, although, by his mother’s account, Massurius was a thirteen months’ child--the ground of the judgment being that the term of utero-gestation had not been as yet accurately determined. There was indeed, not so long since, a woman in our own country who carried her child more than sixteen months, during ten of which she distinctly felt the movements of the fœtus, as indeed did others, and at last brought forth a living infant. These are rare contingencies, I will allow; and therefore it is hardly fair of Spigelius to blame Ulpianus the lawyer because he regarded as legitimate no child born after the completion of the tenth month. Both laws and precepts of art, we must remember, have reference to the general rules of vital processes. Besides, it is impossible to deny that many women, either for purposes of gain or from fear of punishment, have simulated pregnancy, and not hesitated to swear to the truth of their assertion:--others again have frequently been deceived, and fancied themselves pregnant, whilst the uterus has contained no product of conception. On this point Aristotle’s[364] words may be quoted: “The exact period at which conception takes place in the case of those born after the eleventh month can scarcely be ascertained. Women themselves do not know the time at which they conceive; for the uterus is often affected by flatulent disorders, and if under these circumstances conception takes place, women imagine this flatulency to mark the period of conception, because they have recognized certain symptoms which accompany actual conception.”

In the case of other women in whom the fœtus has died in the third or fourth month, then putrefied, and come away in the form of fetid lochial discharges, we have known superfœtation to take place; and yet these same women have persisted that they have brought forth their children after the completion of the fourteenth month. “It happens sometimes,” says Aristotle,[365] “that an abortion takes place, and ten or twelve products of superfœtation come away. But if the (second) conception takes place soon after (the first), the woman goes to the full time with the second, and brings forth both as twins. This was said to have been the case in the fable of Iphicles and Hercules. And it is a subject which admits of proof; for it is known of a woman that she brought forth one child resembling her husband, and another like a man with whom she had had adulterous intercourse. Another woman became pregnant of twins, and conceived another by superfœtation. Her labour came on, and she brought forth the twins well formed and at their proper time, whilst the third child was at the fifth month, and so died immediately.”

A certain maid-servant being gotten with child by her master, to conceal her disgrace, fled to London in the month of September; here she was delivered, and returned home with her health restored. In December, however, the birth of another child, conceived by superfœtation, proclaimed to the world the fault she had committed. “It happened to another woman,” adds the philosopher, “to be delivered of a seven months’ child, and afterwards of twins at the full term, the single child dying, the twins surviving. Other women also, having become pregnant of twins, have miscarried of one, and borne the other to the full term.” It is very easy to understand how, if the earlier or later product of superfœtation come away after three or four months have elapsed, that mistakes may be made in calculating the subsequent months, especially by credulous and ignorant women. We have sometimes observed, both in women and other animals, the product of conception perish, and come away gradually in the form of a thin fluid, somewhat resembling fluor albus. Not long since a woman in London, after an abortion of this kind, conceived anew, and brought forth a child at the proper period. Subsequently, however, after a lapse of some months, as she was engaged in her ordinary duties, without any pain or uneasiness, there came away piecemeal some dark bones belonging to the fœtus of which she had formerly miscarried. I was able to recognize in some of the fragments portions of the spine, femur, and other bones.

I am acquainted with a young woman, the daughter of a physician with whom I am very intimate, who experienced in her own person all the usual symptoms of pregnancy; after the fourteenth week, being healthy and sprightly, she felt the movements of the child within the uterus, calculated the time at which she expected her delivery, and when she thought, from further indications, that this was at hand, prepared the bed, cradle, and all other matters ready for the event. But all was in vain. Lucina refused to answer her prayers; the motions of the fœtus ceased; and by degrees, without inconvenience, as the abdomen had increased so it diminished; she remained, however, barren ever after. I am acquainted also with a noble lady who had borne more than ten children, and in whom the catamenia never disappeared except as the result of impregnation. Afterwards, however, being married to a second husband, she considered herself pregnant, forming her judgment not only from the symptoms on which she usually relied, but also from the movements of the child, which were frequently felt both by herself and her sister, who occupied the same bed with her. No arguments of mine could divest her of this belief. The symptoms depended on flatulence and fat. Hence the best ascertained signs of pregnancy have sometimes deceived not only ignorant women, but experienced midwives, and even skilful and accurate physicians--so that as mistakes are liable to arise, not only from deception on the part of the women themselves, but also from the erroneous tokens of pregnancy, I should say that no rule is to be rashly laid down with respect to births taking place before the seventh or after the fourteenth month.

Unquestionably the ordinary term of utero-gestation is that which we believe was kept in the womb of his mother by our Saviour Christ, of men the most perfect; counting, viz. from the festival of the Annunciation, in the month of March, to the day of the blessed Nativity, which we celebrate in December. Prudent matrons, calculating after this rule, as long as they note the day of the month in which the catamenia usually appear, are rarely out of their reckoning; but after ten lunar months have elapsed, fall in labour, and reap the fruit of their womb the very day on which the catamenia would have appeared, had impregnation not taken place.

As regards the causes of labour, Fabricius, besides that of Galen[366] (who held “that the fœtus was retained in utero until it was sufficiently grown and nourished to take food by the mouth,” according to which theory weakly children ought to remain in utero longer than others, which they do not), gives another and a better reason, viz. “the necessity the fœtus feels for more perfectly cooling itself by respiration, since the child breathes immediately on birth, but does not take food by the mouth. This is not only the case,” he continues, “in man and quadrupeds, but has been particularly observed in birds: these, small as they are, and furnished as yet with but tender bills, peck through the egg-shell at the point where they have need of respiration; and they do this rather through want of breath than of food, since the instant they quit the shell the function of respiration begins, whilst they remain without eating for two days, or longer.” This point, however, whether the object of respiration be really to “cool” the animal, shall be discussed elsewhere at greater length.

In the mean time I would propose this question to the learned--How does it happen that the fœtus continues in its mother’s womb after the seventh month? seeing that when expelled after this epoch, not only does it breathe, but without respiration cannot survive one little hour; whilst, as I before stated, if it remain in utero, it lives in health and vigour more than two months longer without the aid of respiration at all. To state my meaning more plainly--how is it that if the fœtus is expelled with the membranes unbroken, it can survive some hours without risk of suffocation; whilst the same fœtus, removed from its membranes, if air has once entered the lungs, cannot afterwards live a moment without it, but dies instantly? Surely this cannot be from want of “cooling,” for in difficult labours it often happens that the fœtus is retained in the passages many hours without the possibility of breathing, yet is found to be alive; when, however, it is once born and has breathed, if you deprive it of air it dies at once. In like manner children have been removed alive from the uterus by the Cæsarean section many hours after the death of the mother; buried as they are within the membranes, they have no need of air; but as soon as they have once breathed, although they be returned immediately within the membranes, they perish if deprived of it. If any one will carefully attend to these circumstances, and consider a little more closely the nature of air, he will, I think, allow that air is given neither for the “cooling” nor the nutrition of animals; for it is an established fact, that if the fœtus has once respired, it may be more quickly suffocated than if it had been entirely excluded from the air: it is as if heat were rather enkindled within the fœtus than repressed by the influence of the air.

Thus much, by the way, on the subject of respiration; hereafter, perhaps, I may treat of it at greater length. As the arguments on either side are very equally balanced, it is a question of the greatest difficulty.

To return to parturition. Besides the reasons alluded to above, viz. “the necessity for respiration and the want of nourishment,” Fabricius gives another; he says, “that the weight of the fœtus becomes so great as to exert considerable pressure, and the bulk such that the uterus is unable to retain it, added to which the quantity of excrementitious matter is so much increased that it cannot be contained by the membranes.”[367]

Now it has been shown above that the uterine humours are not excrementitious. Nor do the weight and bulk of the fœtus help us to a more probable explanation; for the fœtus suspended in water weighs but slightly on the placenta or uterus; besides which some nine months’ children are very small, much less in fact than many fœtuses of eight months, nevertheless they do not abide longer in the womb. And as to weight, any twins of eight months are far heavier than a single nine months’ child; yet they are not expelled before nine months are completed. Nor do we find a better reason in “want of nutriment;” twins, and even more children, are abundantly supplied with support up to the full term; and the milk which after delivery is sufficient for the nourishment of the child, could equally well, if transferred to the uterus, nourish the fœtus there.

I should rather attribute the birth of the child to the following reason--that the juices within the amnion, hitherto admirably adapted for nutriment, at that particular period either fail or become contaminated by excrementitious matter. I have touched on this subject before. The variation in the term of utero-gestation, occurring as it does chiefly in the human species, I believe to depend on the habits of life, feebleness of body, and on the various affections of the mind. And thus in the case of domesticated animals, owing to their indolence and overfeeding, the seasons both of copulation and production are less fixed and certain than in the wilder tribes. So women in robust health usually experience easy and rapid labours; the contrary holding good in those whose constitutions are shattered by disease. For the same thing befalls them that happens to plants, the seeds and fruits of which come later and less frequently to perfection in cold climates than in those where the soil is good and the sun powerful. Thus oranges in this country usually remain on the tree two years before they arrive at maturity; and figs, which in Italy ripen two or three times annually, scarcely come to perfection in our climate:--the same thing happens to the fruit of the womb; it depends on the abundance or deficiency of nutriment, on the strength or weakness of body, and on the right or wrong ordering of life with reference to what physicians call the “non-naturals,” whether the child arrives sooner or later at maturity, i. e. is born.

Fabricius describes the manner of parturition as follows: “The uterus having been so enlarged by the bulk of the fœtus that it will admit of no further distension without risk, and thus excited to expulsion, is drawn into itself by the action of the transverse fibres, and diminishes its cavity. Thus whilst previously neither the excrementitious matters from their quantity, nor the fœtus from its bulk, could be contained within it, the uterus, contracted and compressed as it is now, becomes still less able to retain them. Wherefore, first of all, the membranes, as being the weaker parts, and suffering most pressure, are ruptured, and give exit to the waters, which are of a very fluid consistence, for the purpose of lubricating the passages. Then follows the fœtus, which tends towards, and, as it were, assaults the uterine aperture, not only by the force of its own gravity as no longer floating in water, but compressed and propelled by the action of the uterus: the abdominal muscles and the diaphragm also assist mightily in the entire process.”

Now in these words Fabricius rather describes the process of defæcation or an abortion than a genuine and natural birth. For although in women, as a general rule, the membranes are ruptured before the escape of the fœtus, it is not universally so; nor does it hold in the case of other animals which bring forth their young enveloped in their membranes. This can be observed in the bitch, ewe, mare, and others, and more particularly in the viper, which conceives an ovum of an uniform colour and soft shell (resembling in fact the product of conception in the woman); this is retained until the fœtus is completely formed; it is then expelled entire, and, according to Aristotle,[368] is broken through by the young animal on the third day. It sometimes happens, however, that kittens, whilst yet in utero, gnaw through the membranes, and so come into the world uninvolved.

And so also, according to the observation of experienced midwives, women have occasionally expelled the child with the membranes unbroken. And this kind of birth, in which the fœtus is born enveloped in its coverings, appears to me by far the most natural; it is like the ripe fruit which drops from the tree without scattering its seed before the appointed time. But where it is otherwise, and the placenta, subsequently to birth, adheres to the uterus, there is great difficulty in detaching it, grave symptoms arise, fetid discharges, and sometimes gangrene occur, and the mother is brought into imminent peril.

Since then the process of parturition, as described by Fabricius, does not apply to all animals, but to women alone, and this not universally, but only where the labour is premature, and, as it were, forced, we must regard it not so much as a description of a natural as of a preternatural and hurried delivery, in fact, of an abortion.

In natural and genuine labour two things are required, which mutually bear upon and assist each other: these are, the mother which produces, and the child to be produced; and unless both are ready to play their part, the labour will hardly terminate favorably, requiring as it does the proper maturity of both. For if, on the one hand, the fœtus, from restlessness and over-desire to make its way out, does violence to the uterus, and thus anticipates the mother; or if, on the contrary, the mother, owing to feebleness of the uterus, or any other circumstance necessitating expulsion, is beforehand with the fœtus, this is to be looked upon rather as the result of disease than as a natural and critical birth. The same may be said of those cases where parts only of the product of conception escape, whilst others remain; for instance, if the fœtus itself is disposed to come away when the placenta is not yet separated from the uterus, or, on the other hand, if the placenta is separated when the fœtus is not rightly placed, or the uterus is not sufficiently relaxed to allow of its passage. Hence it is that midwives are so much to blame, especially the younger and more meddlesome ones, who make a marvellous pother when they hear the woman cry out with her pains and implore assistance, daubing their hands with oil, and distending the passages, so as not to appear ignorant in their art--giving besides medicines to excite the expulsive powers, and when they would hurry the labour, retarding it and making it unnatural, by leaving behind portions of the membranes, or even of the placenta itself, besides exposing the wretched woman to the air, wearying her out on the labour-stool, and making her, in fact, run great risks of her life. In truth, it is far better with the poor, and those who become pregnant by mischance, and are secretly delivered without the aid of a midwife; for the longer the birth is retarded the more safely and easily is the process completed.

Of unnatural labours, therefore, there are chiefly two kinds: either the fœtus is born before the proper time (and this constitutes an abortion), or else subsequently to it, when a difficult or tedious labour is the result, either from the due time and order not being preserved, or from the presence of dangerous symptoms; these arise either from failure of the expelling powers on the part of the mother, or from sluggishness on the part of the fœtus in making its way out; it is when both perform their proper parts that a safe and genuine labour results.

Fabricius ascribes the business of expelling the offspring to the uterus; and he adds, “the abdominal muscles and the diaphragm assist in the business.” It seems to me, however, on deep investigation, that the throes of childbirth, just as sneezing, proceed from the motion and agitation of the whole body. I am acquainted with a young woman who during labour fell into so profound a state of coma that no remedies had power to rouse her, nor was she in fact able to swallow. When called to her, finding that injections and other ordinary remedies had been employed in vain, I dipped a feather in a powerful sternutatory, and passed it up the nostrils. Although the stupor was so profound that she could not sneeze, or be roused in any way, the effect was to excite convulsions throughout the body, beginning at the shoulders, and gradually descending to the lower extremities. As often as I employed the stimulus the labour advanced, until at last a strong and healthy child was born, without the consciousness of the mother, who still remained in a state of coma.

We can observe the manner of labour-pains in other animals, as the bitch, sheep, and larger cattle, and ascertain that they do not depend on the action of the uterus and abdomen only, but on the efforts of the whole body.

The degree in which the offspring contributes to accelerate and facilitate birth is made clear from observations on oviparous animals; in these it is ascertained that the shell is broken through by the fœtus and not by the mother. Hence it is probable that in viviparous animals also the greater part of delivery is due to the fœtus--to its efforts, I mean, not to its gravity, as Fabricius would have it. For what can gravity do in the case of quadrupeds standing or sitting, or in the woman when lying down? Nor are the efforts of the fœtus to get out, the result, as he believes, of its own bulk or of that of the waters; the waters, it is true, when the fœtus is dead and decomposed, by their putrid and acrimonious nature, stimulate the uterus to expel its contents; but it is the fœtus itself which, with its head downwards, attacks the portals of the womb, opens them by its own energies, and thus struggles into day. Wherefore a birth of this kind is held the more speedy and fortunate; “it is contrary to nature,” says Pliny,[369] “for a child to be born with the feet foremost; hence those so born were called Agrippæ, i. e. born with difficulty”--(ægre parti), for in such the labour is tedious and painful. Notwithstanding this, in cases of abortion, or where the fœtus is dead, or, in fact, when any difficulty arises in the delivery so as to require manual aid, it is better that the feet should come first; they act as a wedge on the narrow uterine passages. Hence, when we chiefly depend upon the fœtus, as being lively and active, to accomplish delivery, we must do our best that the head escape first; but if the business is to be done by the uterus, it is advisable that the feet come foremost.

We are able to observe in how great a degree the fœtus contributes to delivery, not only in birds, which, as I have said above, break through the shell by their own powers, but also in many other animals. All kinds of flies and butterflies pierce the little membrane in which they lie concealed as “aureliæ;” the silkworm also, at its appointed time, softens by moistening, and then eats through the silken bag which it had spun round itself for protection, and makes its way out without any foreign aid. In the same manner wasps, hornets, all insects in fact, and fishes of every kind, are born by their own will and powers. This can be best seen in the skate, fork-fish, lamprey, and the cartilaginous fishes generally. These conceive a perfect two-coloured egg, made up, that is, of albumen and yelk, and contained in a strong quadrangular shell; from this, still retained within the uterus, the young fish is formed: it then breaks through the shell, and makes its way out. In an exactly similar manner the young viper eats through the egg-shell, sometimes whilst it remains in utero, sometimes when within the passages, at others two or three days after birth. Hence arose the fable of the young viper eating through the womb of its mother, and so avenging its father’s death; it does, in fact, nothing but what the young of every animal does, breaking though the membranes which envelope it, either in the delivery itself, or a short time subsequently to that event.

We learn moreover from positive observations how much the fœtus contributes to its own birth. A woman in my own neighbourhood, and I speak as having knowledge of the circumstance, died one evening, and the body was left by itself in a room; the next morning an infant was found between the thighs of the mother, having evidently forced its way out by its own efforts. Gregorius Nymmanus has collected several instances of a similar kind from trustworthy authors.

I am further acquainted with a woman who had the whole length of the vagina so torn and injured in a difficult labour, that subsequently, after she had again become pregnant, not only did the parts in the neighbourhood of the nymphæ, but the whole cavity of the vagina as far as the orifice of the uterus, become adherent; this went to such an extent that coition became impossible, nor could a probe be passed up, nor was there any passage left for the ordinary discharges. When her labour came on her sufferings were so dreadful that all hope of delivery was abandoned. She therefore gave up the keys to her husband, arranged her affairs, and took leave of her friends who were present. On a sudden, however, by the violent efforts of the fœtus the whole space was burst through, and a vigorous infant born; thus was the fœtus the salvation both of itself and its mother, besides opening the way for subsequent children. By the exhibition of proper remedies the mother recovered her former good state of health.

The following instance is even more remarkable. A white mare of great beauty had been presented to her Serene Highness the Queen, and in order that its symmetry and usefulness might not be impaired by foal-bearing, the grooms, as is the custom, had infibulated the animal with iron rings. This mare (by what chance I know not, nor could the grooms inform me) was got with foal; and at length, when no one suspected anything of the kind, she foaled in the night, and a living foal was found the next morning by the mother’s side. When I heard of the circumstance I went immediately to the place, and found the sides of the vulva still fastened together by the rings, but the whole pudendum on the left side so thrust and torn away from the pelvis by the almost incredible efforts of the fœtus, that a gap sufficiently wide was made to admit of its escape. Such is the force and vigour of a full-grown and healthy fœtus.

But, on the contrary, if the fœtus is diseased or feeble, or is bom before the full term, it must be considered more an abortion than a regular birth, the fœtus being expelled rather than born; and thus for some days after birth it neither properly takes the breast nor gets rid of its excretions.