Part 8

He sees the functions of the senses constituting distinct functions, and insists that the faculties of the soul must constitute equally distinct faculties; he sees each particular sense possessing an organ proper to itself, and thinks that each faculty of the soul must have its proper organ; in one word, he looks upon the outer man, and constructs the inner man after the image of the outer man.

According to Gall, every thing between an organ of a sense and an organ of a faculty, between a faculty and sense, is similar. A faculty is a sense. His words are: the memory or the sense of things, the memory or the sense of persons, the memory or the sense of numbers. He talks of the sense of language, the sense of mechanics, the sense of the relations of colours, &c. &c.

“As we must admit,” says he, “five different external senses, since their functions are essentially different, ... so we must agree, after all, to acknowledge the different faculties and the different inclinations as being essentially different moral and intellectual forces, and likewise connected with organic apparatuses, which are special to each and independent of each other.”

“Who,” says he, “can dare to say that sight, hearing, taste, smell, and touch, are simple modifications of faculties? Who could dare to derive them from a single and same source, from a single and same organ? In the same way, the twenty-seven qualities and faculties which I recognise as fundamental or primary forces, ... cannot be regarded as the simple modifications of any one faculty.”

On the one hand, Gall gives to the faculties all the independence of the senses; and on the other, he gives the senses all the attributes of the faculties.

“Here,” says he, “are new reasons why I have always maintained in my public discourses, though these assertions are in opposition to the ideas that prevail among philosophers, that each organ of a sense possesses absolutely its own functions; that each of these organs has its peculiar faculty of receiving and even of perceiving impressions, its own conscience, its own faculty of reminiscence,” &c.

Gall did not foresee that a physiological experiment (and a very sure one it is) would one day demonstrate that the sense receives the impression but does not perceive it, and that, consequently, it is endowed neither with conscience nor reminiscence, &c.

When the cerebral lobes or hemispheres are removed from an animal, the animal immediately loses its sight.

And yet nothing, as regards the eyes themselves, has been changed; objects continue to be depicted upon the retina, the iris retains its contractility, and the optic nerve its excitability. The retina continues to be sensible of light, for the iris contracts or dilates according as the light admitted to it is more or less intense.

No change has taken place as to the structure of the eye, and yet the animal does not see! Therefore it is not the eye that perceives, nor is it the eye that sees.

The eye does not see; it is the understanding that sees by means of the eyes.

When Gall concludes from the independence of the external senses to the independence of the faculties of the soul, he confounds, as to the sense itself, two things that are essentially distinct, impression and perception. Impression is multiple; perception is single.

When the hemispheres are removed, the animal instantly loses its perception; it no longer sees nor hears, &c. notwithstanding all the organs of the senses, the eye, the ear, &c. subsist, and the impressions take place.

Therefore the principle that perceives is one. Lost for one sense, it is lost for all the senses. And if it be one for the external senses, how can it be other than one for the faculties of the soul?

Gall therefore cannot suppose the existence of several distinct principles for the faculties of the soul, otherwise than because he supposes several distinct principles for the perceptions; and he only supposes several principles for the perceptions because he confounds impression with perception. The whole of his psycology arises from a mistake; and the whole of his anatomy is constructed for the sake of his psycology.

In psycology he endeavours to prove that the faculties of the soul are merely internal senses; in anatomy, he endeavours to prove that the organs of the faculties of the soul only repeat and reproduce the organs of the external senses.

Now an organ, that is to say, under the present point of view, the nerve of an external sense, is nothing more than a fascicle of nervous fibres. Therefore the brain, under the theory, can be nothing but a collection of fascicles of fibres.

According to Gall, the origin, the development, the structure and mode of termination, as to the organs of the faculties of the soul and the organs of the external senses, every thing is similar, every thing is in common. And yet the primitive difficulty remains unsolved.

When I say an organ of the senses, I speak of a very determinate nervous apparatus. But is the same thing true when I say an organ of the brain? What is an organ of the brain? Is it a fascicle of fibres? Is it each particular fibre? But if it be a fascicle of fibres, there are too few of them, for there are not twenty-seven of them; and twenty-seven are necessary, for there are twenty-seven faculties. If it be each particular fibre, then there are too many of them, and far too many, because there are only twenty-seven faculties. What are we to do in this difficulty? We must do as Gall does: sometimes say it is a fascicle of fibres; at other times, that it is each fibre in particular.

In one place he says: “The brain consisting of several divisions whose functions are totally different, there are several primary bundles, which contribute by their development to produce it. Among these bundles we place the anterior and posterior pyramids, the bundles that come off direct from the corpora olivaria, and some others that are concealed in the interior of the medulla oblongata.”

And there are yet some others; be it so; but they never can amount to twenty-seven.

Again he says: “A more extensive development of the same conjecture, might perhaps dispose the reader to consider each nervous fibrilla, whether in the nerves or in the brain itself, as a little special organ.”

Even this is not all. For the sake of Gall’s doctrine, the anatomy of the brain must have a connexion with cranioscopy. And Gall takes great care to place all his organs upon the surface of the brain.

“The possibility of a solution of the problem under consideration,” says he, “supposes the organs of the soul to be situated at the surface of the brain.” Indeed, were they not situated at the surface of the brain, how could the cranium bear the impression of them? and what would become of cranioscopy?

Cranioscopy has nothing to fear. Gall has made provision for it; all the organs of the brain are placed at the surface of the brain; and Gall most judiciously adds, “This explains the relation or the correspondence that exists between craniology and the doctrine of the cerebral functions (cerebral physiology), the sole aim and end of my researches.”

But as to the pretended organs of the brain, are they really situated at the surface of the brain, as Gall asserts? In plain terms, is the surface of the brain the only active part of the organ? Here is a physiological experiment that shows how very much mistaken Gall is.

You can slice off a considerable portion of an animal’s brain, either in front, behind, on one side, or on the top, without his losing anyone of his faculties.

The animal may, therefore, lose all that Gall calls surface of the brain, without losing any of his faculties. Therefore it cannot be that the organs of the faculties reside at the surface of the brain.