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pleasures of exercise or the pains of fatigue, yet if, from any circumstance, we were led to consider intently the degree or amount of the expenditure, as in aiming a blow at cricket, we should at that moment be entirely unconscious of the pleasure or pain of the situation; the intellectual attitude (in this case the object attitude) is incompatible for the instant with the subject experience proper, of which pleasure and pain are characteristic modes. Even in the highest zest of muscular enjoyment, the feeling of pleasure is intermittent; it is eclipsed in the act of putting forth energy and of considering and comparing its amount; and re-appears at the end of the stroke, or during the suspense of our attention to the act itself. In this subtle transition, or contrast, is laid the groundwork of the great distinction of subject and object— mind and matter.

13. Having thus endeavoured to present a delineation of the first and simplest variety of muscular consciousness under exertion, we shall now cite a few examples of this form of the feeling.

The supporting of a weight on the back, head, or chest, or by the arms, is a common example of dead tension. The most interesting form of it is the support of the body's own weight, which yields a perpetual feeling of the muscular kind, varying with the attitudes. The feeling is least when we lie at full length in bed, and greatest in the erect posture. Sometimes the weight is oppresive to us, and gives the sensation of fatigue; in a more fresh condition of the muscles, it makes one item of our pleasurable consciousness. The fatigue of standing erect for a length of time is, perhaps, one of the commonest cases of muscular exhaustion. The pleasure of standing up after a lengthened repose gives an opposite feeling. When the bodily strength is great, the laying on of a burden is a new pleasure.

This case of great muscular tension, without movement, presents itself under a variety of forms, in the routine of mechanical operations, and in many other ways. In holding on as a drag, in offering or encountering resistance of any

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sort, in compressing, squeezing, clenching, wrestling, the situation is exemplified.

A certain amount of movement may be permitted without essentially departing from the case of dead tension, as in dragging a vehicle, and in efforts of slow traction generally.

14. When muscular tension brings about Movements, there must be a gradually increasing contraction, and not a mere expenditure of power at one fixed attitude. Each muscle has to pass through a course of contraction; beginning, it may be, at the extreme state of relaxation, and passing on, sometimes slowly, and at other times rapidly, to the most shortened and contracted condition. The sensibility developed during this process, is greater in degree, and even somewhat different in kind, from that now discussed. As a general rule, the feeling is more intense under movement, than under exertion without movement. The successive contraction of the muscle would seem capable of originating a more vivid stimulus than the fixed contraction. We even find that, in different degrees of rapidity, the character of the feeling changes, which requires us to make a division of movements into several kinds.

15. Let us first advert to what we may term, by comparison, slow movements. By these I understand such as a loitering, sauntering walk, an indolent style of doing things, a solemn gesture, a drawling speech, whatever is set down as leisurely, deliberate, dawdling. The emotion arising from this kind of movement is far greater than an equal effort of dead tension would produce. Indeed, we may say, that this is an extremely voluminous and copious state of feeling: being both abundant and strong, although deficient in the element that we recognize as the sense of energy, or of expended force; in fact, approaching more to the class of passive feelings. We may derive the greatest amount of pleasurable sensibility, at the least cost of exertion, through the means of well-concerted slow movements. In this case, it seems least unlikely that, together with the sense of expended energy, there is also present the proper sensibility of the muscular tissue, awakened

through the medium or the sensitive nerves. The resemblance of the state to the feeling of muscular repose, (which probably makes) an element in the voluminous sensation of approaching sleep, favours this view. The sense of expended energy is small, in fact almost wanting. But we must not overlook another circumstance, accounting for a copious sensibility under a small expenditure of force. When the energies of the system are strongly directed into the current of muscular activity, they are less available for the support of sensibility or feeling; the putting forth of energy in bodily movements is a diversion of the forces from the seats of passive sensibility, and is a well known remedy for too great mental excitement. Hence, obversely, the smallness of the active expenditure permits a larger manifestation of sensibility or feeling.

The relationship of the feeling in question to muscular repose and approaching sleep, is seen in the tendency of slow movements to induce those states. They are preeminently soothing in their nature, and when the system has contracted a morbid restlessness, they can gradually restore it to the healthy condition. After a bustling day, tranquillity is attained by the mere sympathy of measured movements, as music and the conversation of persons of sedate elocution. There is also a close intimacy between the feelings of slow movement and certain powerful emotions, as awe, solemnity, veneration, and others of the class of mingled tenderness and fear, entering into the religious sentiment. Accordingly, the funeral pace, the slow enunciation of devotional exercises, the solemn tones of organ music, are chosen as appropriate to the feelings that they accompany. All this still farther supports the position, that the feeling under consideration is not one of active energy, but the opposite. For all those sentiments are the response of man's powerlessness and dependence, and are developed according as the sense of his own energy is low.

16. There is every reason to believe that movements gradually increasing or gradually diminishing, are more pro

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ductive of pleasurable emotion than such as are of a uniform character. Indeed, a uniform movement is altogether of artificial acquirement. The natural swing of the limbs tends to get quicker and quicker up to the full stretch, and to die away again gradually. There would appear to be a special sensibility connected with the acceleration or steady diminution of movement. The gradual dying away of a motion is pleasurable and graceful in every sort of activity-in gesture, in the dance, in speech, in vision. The 'dying fall' in sound is an illustration of the same fact. It also goes to make the beauty of curved lines.

Possibly the effect may be explained on the great law of Relativity, or the necessity of change to our being mentally affected. A gradual acceleration or diminution of any agent that wakens sensibility is the surest antidote of monotony, in other words, the condition most favourable to consciousness.

17. We pass next to the consideration of quick movements. They differ considerably in feeling both from dead exertion and from slow motion. Although there may seem to be a common muscular sensibility at the bottom, the specific nature of it is greatly altered. One accompaniment of the quickness is the increased excitement of the nerves; an increase totally distinct from the addition of energy expended to heighten an effort of dead resistance. Mere rapidity of movement has a specific influence in exciting the nerves and nerve-centres to a greater spontaneous activity; in short, it belongs to the class of nervous stimulants. The stimulation would appear to be all the greater, when the organs are unresisted, and consequently demand little expenditure of energy. For inducing an unwonted degree of excitement generally, for inflaming the animal spirits, and bringing on various manifestations and exaggerated efforts, quick movement is an available instrumentality. We may compare it in this respect with acute pains (not severe enough to crush the energies). Rapid motions are a species of mechanical intoxication. Any one organ, however small, made to move quickly, imparts its pace to all the other

moving organs. In a rapid walk, still more in a run, the mental tone is excited, the gesticulations and the speech are quickened, the features betray an unusual tension.

Examples of this class of motions and feelings are sufficiently abundant. They are expressly sought to give hilarity and excitement to human life. The chase, the dance, the vehemence of oratory and gesture, the stirring spectacle, are prized for their stimulating character, as well as for their proper sensations. In the ecstatic worship of antiquity,—in the rites of Bacchus and Demeter,-a peculiar frenzy overtook the worshippers, yielding an enjoyment of the most intense and violent character, and in its expression mad and furious. This state is often brought on among the Orientals of the present day, and in a similar manner, namely, by rapid dancing and music under the infection of a multitude.

Movements, when too quick, excite the brain to the state of dizziness and fainting (see p. 43).

Thus, then, Dead Resistance is a source of pleasure in a healthy system, a derivative of morbid excitement from the brain, and the origin of our most general and fundamental sensibility, constituting the consciousness of the object, or external, world. Slow Movements are allied to the passive pleasures, and may affect us more through the sensitive, than through the motor nerves of the muscles. Quick Movements affect us less as movement, than as stimulating the nerves to increased action, the consequence being a higher mental tone for feeling, for volition, and for thought.

18. A remarkable feeling connected with movements, is that arising from the sudden loss of support, as when the footing, or any prop that we lean upon, suddenly gives way. The contraction of a muscle demands two fixed points of resistance at its extremities; if one of those breaks loose, the force of the contraction has nothing to spend itself upon, and a false position is incurred. The contraction suddenly freed from its resistance does not make a vehement convulsive collapse like a spring; it would appear rather that the contractive force ceases almost immediately; and the

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