A Book of Exposition | Page 9

hand as a lever of the third order.]
Now, man differs from anthropoid apes, which are distant cousins of his, in having a forearm which is considerably shorter than the upper arm; whereas in anthropoid apes the forearm is much the longer. That fact surprises us at first, especially when we remember that anthropoids spend most of their lives amongst trees and use their arms much more than their legs in swinging the weight of their heavy bodies from branch to branch and from tree to tree. A long forearm and hand give them a long and quick reach, so that they can seize distant branches and swing themselves along safely and at a good pace. Our first thought is to suppose that a long forearm, being a weak lever, will be ill adapted for climbing. But when you look at Fig. 10, the explanation becomes plain. When a branch is seized by the hand, and the whole weight of the body is supported from it, the entire machinery of the arm changes its action. The forearm is no longer the lever which the brachial muscle moves (Fig. 10), but now becomes the base from which it acts. The part which was its piston cord now serves as its base of fixation, and what was its base of fixation to the humerus becomes its piston cord. The humerus has become a lever of the third order; its fulcrum is at the elbow; the weight of the body is attached to it at the shoulder and represents the load which has to be lifted. We also notice that the brachial muscle is attached a long way up the humerus, thus increasing its power very greatly, although the rate at which it helps in lifting the body is diminished. We can see, then, why the humerus is short and the forearm long in anthropoid apes; shortening the humerus makes it more powerful as a lever for lifting the body. That is why anthropoids are strong and agile tree-climbers. But then watch them use those long hands and forearms for the varied and precise movements we have to perform in our daily lives, and you will see how clumsy they are.
[Illustration: Fig. 10.--Showing the action of the brachialis anticus in the arm of an anthropoid ape.]
In the human machine the levers of the arm have been fashioned, not for climbing, but for work of another kind--the kind which brings us a livelihood. We must have perfect control over our hands; the longer the lever of the forearm is made, the more difficult does control of the hand become. Hence, in the human machine the forearm is made relatively short and the upper arm long.
We have just seen that the brachial muscle could at one time move the forearm and hand, but that when they are fixed it could then use the humerus as a lever and thereby lift the weight of the body. What should we think of a metal engine which could reverse its action so that it could act through its piston-rod at one time and through its cylinder at another? Yet that is what a great number of the muscular engines of the human machine do every day.
There is another little point, but an important one, which I must mention before this chapter is finished. I have spoken of the forearm and hand as if they formed a single solid lever. Of course that is not so; there are joints at the wrist where the hand can be moved on the forearm. But when a weight is placed in the hand, these joints became fixed by the action of muscles. The fixing muscles are placed in the forearm, both in front and behind, and are set in action the moment the hand is loaded. The wrist joint is fixed just in the same way as the joints of the foot are made rigid by muscles when it has to serve as a lever. Even when we take a pen in our hand and write, these engines which balance and fix the wrist have to be in action all the time. The steadiness of our writing depends on how delicately they are balanced. Like the muscles of the foot, the fixers of the wrist may become overworked and exhausted, as occasionally happens in men and women who do not hold their pens correctly and write for long spells day after day. The break-down which happens in them is called "writer's cramp," but it is a disaster of the same kind as that which overtakes the foot when its arch collapses, and its utility as a lever is lost.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 1: From The Engines of the Human Body, Chapters VI and VII. J.B. Lippincott Company, Philadelphia, 1920; Williams and Norgate, London, 1920.]

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