LAW AS A CULTURAL COMPLEX 15
these same fibers;3 therefore, it increases their strength4 in this way too. Hot air, by
contrast, relaxes these extremities of the fibers and lengthens them; therefore, it
decreases their strength and their spring.
Therefore, men are more vigorous in cold climates. The action of the heart and the
reaction of the extremities of the fibers are in closer accord, the fluids are in a better
equilibrium, the blood is pushed harder toward the heart and, reciprocally, the heart
has more power. This greater strength should produce many effects: for example,
more confidence in oneself, that is, more courage; better knowledge of one’s super¬
iority, that is, less desire for vengeance; a higher opinion of one’s security, that is,
more frankness and fewer suspicions, maneuvers, and tricks. Finally, it should make
very different characters. Put a man in a hot, enclosed spot, and he will suffer, for the
reasons just stated, a great slackening of heart. If, in the circumstance, one proposes
a bold action to him, I believe one will find him little disposed toward it; his present
weakness will induce discouragement in his soul; he will fear everything, because he
will feel he can do nothing. The peoples in hot countries are timid like old men; those
in cold countries are courageous like young men. If we turn our attention to the
recent wars,5 which are the ones we can best observe and in which we can better see
certain slight effects that are imperceptible from a distance, we shall certainly feel
that the actions of the northern peoples who were sent to southern countries6 were
not as fine as the actions of their compatriots who, fighting in their own climate,
enjoyed the whole of their courage.
The strength of the fibers of the northern peoples causes them to draw the thickest
juices from their food. Two things result from this first, that the parts of the chyle, or
lymph,7 being broad surfaced, are more apt to be applied to the fibers and to nourish
them; and second, that, being coarse, they are less apt to give a certain subtlety to the
nervous juice. Therefore, these people will have large bodies and little vivacity.
The nerves, which end in the tissue of our skin, are made of a sheaf of nerves.
Ordinarily, it is not the whole nerve that moves, but an infinitely small part of it. In
hot countries, where the tissue of the skin is relaxed, the ends of the nerves are open
and exposed to the weakest action of the slightest objects. In cold countries, the
tissue of the skin is contracted and the papillae compressed. The little bunches are in
a way paralyzed; sensation hardly passes to the brain except when it is extremely
strong and is of the entire nerve together. But imagination, taste, sensitivity, and
vivacity depend on an infinite number of small sensations.
I have observed the place on the surface tissue of a sheep’s tongue which appears
to the naked eye to be covered with papillae. Through a microscope, I have seen the
tiny hairs, or a kind of down, on these papillae; between these papillae were
pyramids, forming something like little brushes at the ends. It is very likely that
these pyramids are the principal organ of taste.
I had half of the tongue frozen; and, with the naked eye I found the papillae
considerably diminished; some of the rows of papillae had even slipped inside their
sheaths: I examined the tissue through a microscope; I could no longer see the
pyramids. As the tongue thawed, the papillae appeared again to the naked eye,
and, under the microscope, the little brushes began to reappear.
This observation confirms what I have said, that, in cold countries, the tufts of
nerves are less open; they slip inside their sheaths, where they are protected from the
action of external objects. Therefore, sensations are less vivid.