A SOUL CLOTHED WITH AIR.
She was standing, in her chaste nudity, with uplifted arms, twisting thethick and waving masses of her hair, which she was trying to bring intosubjection on the top of her head,--a fresh, young beauty, who had notyet attained the fulness and perfection of developed form, but wasapproaching it, radiant in the loveliness of her seventeenth year.
A child of Venice, her white, soft, rose-tinted skin revealed thecirculation of a strong and ardent life-blood beneath its transparency;her eyes shone with a mysterious and haunting light, and the dewyredness of her lightly parted lips made one think of the fruit as muchas of the flower. She was marvellously beautiful as she stood thus; andif some hero Paris had received a mission to award the palm to her, I donot know which he would have laid at her feet, that of grace, elegance,or beauty,--for she seemed to blend the living charm of modernattractiveness with the calm perfections of classic beauty.
The happiest, the most unexpected chance had led the painter Falero andme to where she was. One lovely afternoon last spring we were walking onthe seashore. We had been through one of the groves of olive-trees, withtheir sad-looking leaves, which are so frequent between Nice and Monaco,and without being aware of it had entered some private grounds whichwere unenclosed on the side towards the beach. A picturesque, windingpath led up the hill. We had just passed an orange-grove whose goldenapples recalled the garden of the Hesperides; the air was fragrant, thesky a deep blue, and we were discoursing upon a parallel between art andscience, when my companion suddenly stopped, as if by an irresistiblefascination, making me a sign to be silent and to look.
Behind the clumps of cactus and fig-trees, a few feet in front of us,was a sumptuous bathroom, with its western window open, letting us seethe young girl standing not far from a marble basin into which a jet ofwater fell with a gentle murmur, and before a large mirror whichreflected her image from head to foot. Probably the noise of the fallingwater had prevented her hearing our footsteps. We stood mute andmotionless behind the cactus, discreetly, or indiscreetly, watching her.She was lovely, and apparently unaware of her own beauty. Her feet wereon a tiger-skin; she was in no haste. Finding that her hair was stilltoo damp, she let it fall about her again, turned in our direction, andpicked up a rose from the table near the window; then going back to thelong mirror, she resumed her hair-dressing, finished it leisurely, putthe little rose between two coils, and turning with her back to the sun,stooped, probably to pick up her first piece of clothing. But shesuddenly sprang back with a piercing cry, hid her face in her hands, andhastily retreated to a shaded corner.
We have always thought since that some movement of our heads must havebetrayed our presence, or that by some trick of the mirror she had seenus. Whatever it was, we thought it prudent to retrace our steps, andwent down to the sea again by the same path.
* * * * *
"Ah," said my companion, "I assure you that among all my models I havenever seen any more perfect, even for my picture of the 'Double Stars'and of 'Celia.' What do you think about it yourself? Did not thatapparition come just in time to prove that I am right? You need waste noeloquence upon the delights of science,--acknowledge that art also hasits charms. Do not the stars of Earth compare favorably with thebeauties of the sky? Do you not admire the graceful beauty of that formas I do? What exquisite tints, what flesh!"
"I should not have the bad taste not to admire what is truly beautiful,"I answered. "I admit that human beauty (and of course female lovelinessin particular) truly represents the most perfect thing that Nature hasproduced on our planet. But do you know what I most admire in thatbeing? It is not its artistic or aesthetic aspect, it is the scientificproof it gives of a simply wonderful fact. In that beautiful body I seea soul clothed with air."
"Oh, you are fond of paradoxes! A soul clothed with air! That is ratheridealistic for so real a body! No doubt the charming creature has asoul; but permit an artist to admire her body, her vitality, hersolidity, her color...."
"I do not object. But it is just that physical beauty which makes meadmire the soul in her, the invisible force that formed her."
"What do you mean by that? We surely have a body! The existence of asoul is less palpable."
"To the senses, yes; to the mind, no. Now, your senses absolutelydeceive you about the motion of the Earth, the nature of the sky, theapparent solidity of the body; about beings and about things. Will youfollow my reasoning for a moment?
* * * * *
"When I breathe the perfume of a rose, when I admire the beauty of form,the smoothness of coloring, the grace of this flower in its freshlyopening bloom, what strikes me most is the work of the hidden, unknown,mysterious force which rules over the plant's life and can direct it inthe maintenance of its existence, which chooses the proper molecules ofair, water, and earth for its nourishment, and which knows above allhow to assimilate those molecules and group them so delicately as toform this graceful stem, these dainty little green leaves, these softpink petals, these exquisite tints and delicious fragrance. Thismysterious force is the animating principle of the plant. Put alily-seed, an acorn, a grain of wheat, and a peach-stone side by sidein the ground; each germ will build up its own organism.
"I knew a maple-tree which was dying on the ruins of an old wall, a fewfeet from good, rich soil in a ditch, and which in despair threw out aventuresome root, reached the coveted soil, buried itself there, andgained a solid footing, so that by degrees, although a motionless thing,it changed its place, let its original roots die, left the stones, andlived resuscitated upon the organ that had set it free. I have knownelms which were going to eat up the soil of a fertile field, whose foodhad been cut off from them by a wide ditch, and who therefore determinedto make their uncut roots pass under the ditch. They succeeded, andreturned to their regular food, much to the cultivator's astonishment. Iknew an heroic jasmine which went eight times through holes in a boardwhich kept the light away from it, and which a teasing observer wouldput back into the shade, hoping at last to wear out the flower's energy;but he did not succeed.
"A plant breathes, drinks, eats, selects, refuses, seeks, works, lives,acts according to its instincts. One does 'like a charm,' another pines,a third is nervous and agitated. The sensitive-plant shivers and droopsits leaves at the slightest touch. In certain hours of well-being thecalla lily is warm, the pink is phosphorescent, the valisneria goes downto the bottom of the lake to ripen the fruit of her loves. In thesemanifestations of an unknown life the philosopher cannot helprecognizing a song from the universal choir in the plant world.
"I go no further for the human soul just now, although it isincomparably superior to the soul of a plant, and although it hascreated an intellectual world as much above the rest of the terrestrialworld as the stars are higher than the Earth. I am not looking at it nowfrom the point of view of its spiritual faculties, but only as forceanimating the human being.
"Ah! I wonder that that force can group the atoms that we breathe, orthat we assimilate by nutrition and form this charming being! Think ofthat young girl the day she was born, and follow in thought the gradualdevelopment of that little body through the years of her awkward age tothe first graces of youth and the charms of womanhood. How is humanorganism nourished, developed, and composed? You know,--by respirationand nutrition.
"The air supplies three quarters of our nourishment by respiration. Theoxygen in the air maintains the fire of life, and the body is comparableto a flame, constantly renewed by the principles of combustion. The lackof oxygen extinguishes life as it extinguishes a lamp. By respirationthe black venous blood is transformed into red arterial blood andregenerated. The lungs are a fine tissue pierced with from forty tofifty millions of little holes, which are just too small for the bloodto filter through, and just large enough for the air to penetrate them.A perpetual interchange of gas takes place between the air and theblood, the first furnishing the second with oxygen, the secondeliminating carbonic acid. On
the one hand the atmospheric oxygen burnscarbon in the lung; on the other the lung exhales carbonic acid,nitrogen, and water in the form of vapor. In the daytime, plants breatheby an opposite process,--they absorb carbonic acid and exhale oxygen; bythis difference maintaining one part of the general equilibrium ofterrestrial life.
"Of what is the human body composed? An average adult man weighs 70kilograms. Of this amount there are nearly 52 kilograms of water in theblood and flesh. Analyze the substance of our body, you will findalbumen, fibrine, caseine, and gelatine; that is, organic substancescomposed originally of the four essential gases,--oxygen, nitrogen,hydrogen, and carbonic acid. You will also find substances with nonitrogen, such as gum, sugar, starch, and fat. These matters likewisepass through our organism; their carbon and hydrogen are consumed by theoxygen breathed in during respiration, and then exhaled under the formof carbonic acid and water.
"You are not unaware that water is a combination of two gases, oxygenand hydrogen; the air is a mixture of two gases, oxygen and nitrogen, towhich are added in lesser proportions water in the form of vapor, which,however, is but condensed oxygen, etc.
"Thus our body is composed only of transformed gases."
* * * * *
"But," interrupted my companion, "we do not live solely upon the air; atcertain hours, indicated by our stomachs, it is very necessary to addsome supplies which are not without a value of their own,--such as apheasant's wing, a filet de sole, a glass of Chateau Laffitte orchampagne, or, as your taste may prefer, asparagus, grapes, peaches...."
"Yes, that all passes through our organism and renews itstissues,--pretty rapidly too; for in a few months (not in seven years,as was formerly thought) our body is entirely renewed. To return to thatlovely being who posed before us just now. None of that flesh which weadmired existed three or four months ago; those shoulders, that face,those eyes, that mouth, those arms, that hair, and, even to the verynails, all that organism, is but a current of molecules, a ceaselesslyrenewed flame, a river which we may look at all our lives, but never seethe same water again. Now, all that is but assimilated gas, condensedand modified, and more than anything else, it is air. These bonesthemselves, so solid now, were formed and hardened gradually. Do notforget that our whole body is composed of invisible molecules which donot touch each other, and which are continually renewed.
"Finally, our table is spread with vegetables and fruits; if we arevegetarians we absorb substances almost entirely drawn from the air.This peach is air and water; this pear, this grape, this almond are alsomade of air and water, a few gaseous elements drawn to them by the sap,by solar heat, by the rain. Asparagus or salad, peas or beans, lettuceor chicory, all these live in the air and on the air; what the earthfurnishes, what the sap seeks out, are also gases, and the very samenitrogen, oxygen, hydrogen, carbon, etc.
"If it is a question of beefsteak, chicken, or some other 'meat,' thedifference is not very great. Sheep and oxen feed upon grass. If werelish a partridge cooked with cauliflower, a roasted quail, a truffledturkey, or a stewed hare, all these substances, apparently so different,are only transformed vegetable matter, which itself is but a groupingof molecules taken from the gases of which we have just beenspeaking,--air, water, elements, molecules, and atoms almostimponderable of themselves, and moreover absolutely invisible to thenaked eye.
"Thus, whatever may be our kind of nourishment, our body, kept repaired,developed by the absorption of molecules acquired by respiration andalimentation, is really but a current incessantly renewed by means ofthis assimilation,--directed, governed, and organized by the immaterialforce which animates us. To this force we may assuredly give the name of'soul.' It groups the atoms which suit it, eliminates those which areuseless to it, and, starting with an imperceptible speck, anindiscernible germ, ends by building up the Apollo Belvidere or theVenus of the Capitol. Phidias is but a coarse imitator, compared to thishidden and mysterious force. Mythology tells us that Pygmalion becamethe lover of a statue of his own creation. Not so! Pygmalion,Praxiteles, Michael Angelo, Benvenuto, and Canova created nothing butstatues. The force that can construct the living body of man and womanis more sublime.
"But this force is immaterial, invisible, intangible, imponderable, likethe attraction which lulls the worlds in the universal melody; and thebody, however material it may seem to us, is in itself only a harmoniousgrouping, formed by the attraction of this interior force. So you seethat I confine myself strictly within the limits of positive science inspeaking of this young girl by the title of a soul clothed withair,--like you or me, for instance, neither more nor less.
"From the origin of humanity down to within a century or two, it hasbeen believed that sensation was perceived at the very point where itwas felt. A pain felt in the finger was considered as having its seat inthe finger itself. Children and many people believe so still. Physiologyhas demonstrated that the impression is transmitted from the finger-tipto the brain by means of the nervous system. If the nerve is cut, thefinger may be burned with impunity; the paralysis is complete. We havebeen able to determine the time taken by the impression in transmittingitself from any part of the body to the brain, and it is known that therapidity of this transmission is about twenty-eight metres per second.Since then we have referred sensation to the brain. But we have stoppedhalf way.
"The brain is matter, like the finger, and by no means fixed and stablematter. It is essentially changing matter, rapidly variable, and formingno identity. A single lobe, a single cell, a single molecule which doesnot change, does not and could not exist in the whole mass of encephalicmatter. A stoppage of motion, of circulation, or of transformationwould be a death-warrant. The brain subsists and feels, only oncondition of submitting, like all the rest of the body, to the incessanttransformations of organic matter which constitute the vital circuit.
"So it cannot be that our personality, our identity, lies in a certaingrouping of cerebral matter,--our individual me, our _ego_ whichacquires and preserves a personal scientific and moral value, increasingwith study; our _ego_ which feels itself responsible for its actsperformed a month, a year, ten, twenty, fifty years ago, during whichtime however the molecular grouping has been _changed_ frequently.
"Physiologists who affirm that the soul does not exist, are like theirancestors who affirmed that they felt pain in their finger or theirfoot. They are a little less far from the truth, but they stop on theway when they stop at the brain, and make the human being consist ofcerebral impressions. This hypothesis is all the less excusable becausethese same physiologists know perfectly well that personal sensation isalways accompanied by a modification of substance. In other words, the_ego_ of the individual only continues when the identity of its matterceases to continue.
"Our principle of sensibility, then, cannot be a material object; it isput in communication with the universe by cerebral impressions, by thechemical forces disengaged in the encephalon in consequence of materialcombinations. But it is _different_.
"And our organic constitution is perpetually transformed under thedirection of a psychic principle.
"Some molecule now incorporated in our organism escapes from it byexpiration, perspiration, etc., to belong to the atmosphere for a longeror shorter time, then to be incorporated into another organism,--plant,animal, or man. The molecules which actually constitute your body werenot all made part of your person yesterday, and none of them were therethree months ago. Where were they? Either in the air or in another body.All the molecules now forming your organic tissues, your lungs, youreyes, your brain, your legs, etc., have already served to form otherorganic tissues. We are all resuscitated dead men, made from the dust ofour ancestors. If all the people who have lived up to this time arosefrom the dead, there would be five of them to every square foot upon thesurface of all the continents,--obliged to climb on one another'sshoulders in order to stand; but they could not all be completelyresuscitated, for many of the molecules have served successively forseveral bodies.
 
; "Our own organisms likewise, resolved into their ultimate particles,will help to form the bodies of our descendants.
"Each molecule of air then goes on eternally from life to life, andescapes thence from death to death, by turns wind, wave, earth, animal,or flower. It is incorporated successively into the substance ofnumberless organisms. The air, the inexhaustible source whenceeverything that lives takes its breath, is yet an immense reservoir intowhich everything that dies pours its last sigh; by its absorption,vegetable and animal, different organisms come to life and afterwardsperish. Life and death are both in the air we breathe, and perpetuallysucceed each other by the exchange of gaseous molecules; the molecule ofoxygen which this old oak exhales will fly away to the lungs of a childin its cradle. The last sighs of a man will weave the brilliant corollaof a flower, or expand like a smile over the verdant meadow. And thus byan infinite series of partial deaths, the atmosphere incessantlynourishes the universal life spread over the surface of the world.
"And if nevertheless some objection should still remain unanswered, Iwould go further, and add that our clothes as well as our bodies arecomposed of substances which at first were all gaseous. Take thisthread, draw it out: what a resistance! How many webs of cambric, silk,linen, cotton, and wool industry have been formed by the help of thesewarps and woofs! And yet, what is a thread of linen, flax, or cotton?Globules of air in juxtaposition which are held together only by theirmolecular force. What is a thread of silk or wool? Another set ofmolecules in juxtaposition. Admit, then, that our clothes aswell are air, gas, substances drawn in the beginning from theatmosphere,--oxygen, nitrogen, carbon, vapor of water, etc."
* * * * *
"I am glad to see," said the painter, "that art is not so far fromscience as is supposed in certain circles. If your theory is purelyscientific to you, to me it is art, and of the best. Besides, do allthese distinctions exist in Nature? In Nature there is neither art norpainting nor sculpture, music nor decoration, philosophy nor chemistry,nor astronomy nor meteorology. Look at the sky, the sea, thosefoot-hills of the Alps, those rosy evening clouds, those luminousperspectives towards the Italian coast,--all that is one. There is unityin everything. And since molecular philosophy demonstrates that there isno longer any body, that even the atoms in a bar of steel or platinum donot touch each other, no one will be the loser, provided our souls areleft us."
"Yes, it is a fact against which no prejudice can prevail,--livingbeings are souls clothed with air. I pity the worlds deprived of theiratmosphere."
We had returned to the seashore after a long ramble not far from ourpoint of departure, and were passing the battlemented wall of a villa onour way from Beaulieu to Cape Ferrat, when two very fashionably dressedladies passed us. They were the Duchess of V---- and her daughter, whomwe had met the previous Thursday at a ball at the Prefecture. We bowedto them, and disappeared under the olive-trees. The young girl,inquisitive daughter of Eve, turned to look after us, and it seemed tome that a sudden blush crimsoned her cheeks; it was doubtless thereflection of the setting sun's rays.
"Perhaps you think," said the artist, also looking back, "that you havediminished my admiration for beauty? No, I appreciate it still more. Init I bow to harmony; and--shall I confess it?--the human body thusconsidered as the manifestation to the senses of a directing soul seemsto me to acquire thence more nobility, more beauty, and more light."