When a man enters upon that condition which we call “death,” the general muscular movements first cease, then the movements of respiration (so that a mirror held to the mouth was used to test the coming and going of the breath, and the absence of a film of moisture on the mirror’s surface was held to be a proof of death), then the movement of the heart, which is followed by the awful pallor of the bloodless face and lips, and the chilling of the whole body, no longer warmed by the blood-stream. But for long after these changes have occurred the protoplasm of the cells in many parts is not injured. The beard of a corpse will grow after all the great arrests of movement above noted have been established for hours. In cold-blooded animals, such as the frog, the protoplasm of the muscles is still uninjured many hours after decapitation, and they can be stimulated and made to contract. Death, in fact, only occurs in the tissues of a multicellular animal, as their protoplasm becomes chemically destroyed by injurious temperature, poisonous accumulations, or active bacterial germs, which become predominant owing to the stoppage of the great mechanisms of breathing, circulation, and nerve control. Is it, then, necessary to suppose that a something, an essence, a spirit, an intangible existence called “life” or “vitality,” or the “anima animans,” passes away, or, as it were, evaporates from a thing which was living and is now dead? Assuredly no more than it is necessary to suppose that an essence or thing called “death” takes possession of it when it ceases to carry on the changes which we call “living.” It must not be supposed that we regard the unique and truly awe-inspiring processes which go on in the protoplasm of living things as something simple, easily understood and accounted for, because we have given up the notion that life is an entity which enters into living things from without and escapes from them at death. The real fact is, that the notion of “spirits,” whether of a lower or of a higher kind, supposed to enter into and “affect” various natural objects, including trees, rivers, and mountains, as well as animals and man, does not help us, and only stands in the way of our gaining more complete knowledge of natural processes. When we say that life and even its most tremendous outcome—the mind of man—are to be studied and their gradual development traced as part of the orderly unfolding of natural processes, we are no whit less reverent, in no degree less impressed by the wonder, immensity, and mystery of the universe, than those who, with happy and obstinate adherence to primitive conceptions, think that they can explain things by calling up vital essences and wandering spirits. FOOTNOTES